My Door

Yesterday in class, Hard Teacher read a passage from Light on Life which talks about the space within and the space outside a vessel. A vase, a body. In art there is negative space -- there is line and form and light and shadow. I have studied visually the way the one creates the other...

When we work a pose, she said, we are used to working on the outside space. What I want you to play with today is the interior space...

There are ways that when we contract, it creates freedom. When we push against ourselves from the inside, we become freer...

She had us take three belts with us to the mat.

At the end of class, we went into shoulder stand. But not just any shoulder stand; shoulder stand with three belts. It felt a little like some sort of strange bondage fiasco... One on our arms, behind our back -- one on our shins, one on our ankles.

You'd think it would be harder, holding oneself strapped in...
it's scary -- I thought I was going to fall...

but it was so unbelievably light.
it was as if, by being contained, the legs lost their connection to the earth...

So I was thinking about that this morning -- as I went to start practice -- which I will have to return to later. I was thinking about how, in life, sometimes it is the restrictions that allow the space to open up -- outside and inside... the binding brings the light.


And it feels related to this other thing I was thinking about this morning. I am trying to change my headstand ascent to both legs and once -- as Hard Teacher feels this is the right way to do the pose... sigh. I'm solid in the way I go up now -- but the baby steps of reverting to two legs has me back at the wall...

the walls, in my case, are the doors of my living room. I managed it -- with a little hop, my two legs up -- this is a major feat for me right now -- I made it almost all of the way up -- then reached my toes to the door for a moment of steadying.

The door, of course, opened.
I fell sideways.  Landed on my ankle. Left my practice for later -- for which I am also judging myself...

You know, I am pretty sure I would have been fine if the door hadn't been there.
But if you think there is support -- and it fails -- balance is nearly impossible.

Maybe it's a matter again of looking to hold tight the container -- to feel the support in the vessel itself -- not looking for the strength outside -- but allowing the strength inside to be supported by the pressures and the binds of the day -- to take strength from the space that opens in response to constraint.

It Was In the Cards

This morning during my practice I kept finding myself just lying on my back staring at the ceiling. I was disappointed in myself -- and the practice -- and I'm just tired of my body today. It seems unfathomable to me -- after having so many varied ailments over the last year -- that I would fall out of bed and screw up all of my mobility for months to come. Irony of all irony, my own bed is on the floor.

As I was driving around this morning, running icky errands, I kept thinking, where is the yoga lesson in my practice this morning...

This afternoon I went card shopping. I love cards. Spend silly money on cards. My absolute favorite cards are letterpressed with a dark sense of humor. Love those! I was looking for a birthday card for a friend -- I got two for myself.

One is a get well card, it says -- "Heal in your own time." Then you opened it up and it said, "Get well soon seemed bossy."

Of course. Injury happens. Healing happens.

Because I have been off my feet, I have done amazing work on strengthening my core and opening my hips. I've learned how malleable the practice can be when I need it to be. I've had to choose again and again to find ways to adapt the practice to my body -- which is, truly, the core of the practice.

My own time.

The other card has a beautiful photo of a sunset beach -- reminiscent of something you would probably see Magnum P.I. walking off into in 1982 -- very orange and pink and there's a duck and glimmering water and in swirly letters it says,

"f*#$ yoga."

I dunno, it made me laugh.

Luxury of the fast

Again, during Pranayama today I was feeling so panicky on the exhale.
And I thought, for a moment, that is just the way I feel about love.
(Then I thought, for a moment, I should get up and write my blog now -- then I thought that would be decidedly not finishing my practice... sigh.)
And I'm always amazed at what happens if you stick around...

Sweet teacher says, it is a luxury to be in your body, with this hour, on this day that will never come again... (she did it, she left to give life... I learned so much from her this year. All health and safety to you and your family, Justine.)

I usually end my practice reading Rumi. I like the way that randomly flipped to input from the outside creates metaphors and connections in my mind. I like listening -- and I like the focus on meditation...

And today he said,
"Fasting
There is a hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness."

I like it when it works that way.

"We are lutes. No more, no less. If the soundbox is stuffed full of anything, no music."

I think I will read this again before my next breath work. Maybe I will read it again before my next goodbye...

 "When you fast, good habits gather like friends who want to help..."

I think it's so interesting to notice in me the force of the feelings of loss and fear when intellectually I know there is nothing wrong in the moment. Intellectually I know I am not in danger of suffocating -- and, in fact, it would be extremely difficult to suffocate in the middle of my living room floor -- even if I set that as my intention, my body would rebel -- would take the breath I needed against my will.

And still the fear can well with force and power.

I have enough breath. I am not in danger of starving. I am not in danger of being alone.
I have the luxury of choosing not to rush this morning.
I have the luxury of noticing...

"Expect to see it, when you fast, this table spread with other food, better than the broth of cabbages."

Because of love.

Went to yoga today with a sprained ankle... I felt dumb doing it -- I knew vinyasa was not a good idea... but Sweet Teacher -- she's almost gone now. And I am going to miss her a lot. So I went. And it hurt -- I learned and I practiced and I took breaks and I was very tender...

Sometimes you just have to go ahead and be there, right -- even when it hurts, and it exacerbates an injury or it calls up sadness or separation anxiety. Because of love. I had a dinner like that this week, too.

Today I asked about how to begin to work on balance in a hand stand.

We always think about extremities, right -- Sweet Teacher said. But it's not about that at all. Balance from your core -- let the strength and straight come from your center and your legs will have no choice but to come off the wall.

We waste so much time on the extremities... those things outside of the real change that needs to be made -- the real strength that needs to be found.

Travel safe and be happy -- you will be missed.

To Seek Out Difficulty

I think it's so interesting how things that used to be dificult become simple. How strength -- as if suddenly -- becomes possessed. The body learns.

How next to seek out difficulty... because it is in the focus and the attention to the weakness that we become strong.

In a Hurry to Inhale

In addition to taking the class from Hard Teacher, I am taking a short course from her in Pranayama. I find it very interesting to learn about the expansiveness inside.

There was a saying in graduate school in poetry -- if you have to ask the question you will never know. Poets are so snotty. I'm not sure it's different in yoga, but the teachers smile and say, listen to your body. I think it's the same answer, just one is meaner... sigh.

Last week I talked to her about my anxiety about the exhale. It makes me scared to be empty of breath. I feel like I am not in control. To hold the breath out seems almost to invite emptiness... emptiness of life.

We do a three part breathing -- upper chest, ribs, abdominal... breathe each separate; pause between segments. I asked -- is there a pause again before inhaling...

It's not so much as a pause -- think about the idea that you are not in a hurry to inhale.


Isn't that wonderful. Not in a hurry to inhale. It's not an expulsion -- not a denial -- simply a moment -- like Scarlet O'Hara for pranayama... I'll thinking about it when I get to it...

Aren't we so conditioned to rush the next --
Don't leave a job without the next --
Don't leave a love without the next --
I don't even think I ever run out of peanut butter...

Of course if you know you are safe -- and loved and housed and fed...
If you know that breath is waiting to fill you and life is all around...

You don't have to be in a hurry at all.

My New Teacher

I have started taking a really hard yoga class. I mean, the class that I usually take is hard, but this is different… it’s a hard teacher, a hard style, a small group, it’s two hours. I have been wanting to study with this teacher for a long time – this is the woman who almost made us all throw up on Valentine’s day with her crazy back bends… anyway, this was the only class that was open – and she said she thought I’d be fine. Even though I haven’t taken her classes before… even though I don’t know the Sanskrit.

I'm finding it an amazing experience. Both the body opening and the thinking about life – it’s making me examine how I handle difficulty. This is important information – in the practice for life arena.

First off, I am surprised that I asked if I could join… Despite being an advanced student – in some sort of relative way – I would happily have joined her beginning class. Mind you, I’ve been practicing yoga fairly regularly for ten years. That usually meant weekly, aside from a few gaps. Different styles, and I’ve watched my body go through different phases and tasks with it – I feel like I’m really studying for the first time now – but ten years. She teaches the Iyengar series’ and I would like to begin at the beginning – I believe in that. But I’ve been trying for over a year,  and I couldn’t get in. So I am looking at this – and one the one hand, I appreciate that I have the mind that I am a beginner. I have a love of mechanics and a love of precision. At the same time, I am slow to admit skills…

It’s a really hard class – and yesterday I didn’t know if I could do it. We did a few things that made extremely uncomfortable. Hanging from ropes from the wall and pulling ourselves up and down – using the weight of gravity to enhance shoulder opening and back bending… I seriously wanted to throw up.

She also wants us to get up into headstand with our two legs together. I tried that this week at home – I don’t know how on earth I’m going to do it – ever. She said “you are not beginners anymore.” She’s going to need a name… not Sweet Teacher… sigh. Don’t get me wrong, she has her heart opening conversations – and I really love her teaching – but we aren’t just playing around in there… She talks about rigor and discipline – weakness means need for work, not ease.

So it’s hard – how do I deal with difficulty? How do I listen to my body over my pride?

And yesterday I realized – that because of this thing that I do – of always wanting to know for certain that I am qualified – I am often overqualified for situations. Also, I am rarely pushed. I would never want that scenario for my children… while we know that comfort and ego are important, we also know that challenge leads to growth and fulfillment…

Maybe it's time to hang from the walls of life a little more... start working on my core strength.