the practice of not knowing

Slept in this morning..til 630. Made it to the shala a bit past 8, giving me enough time for standing to purvotanasana. I am finally going to try to have a 6 day practice week, my first since I started with ashtanga in January. Today became an exercise remembering the big picture: that it is more important to practice daily than to force myself through my full practice every day. I will have to build up to 6 days in a row of full practice over time.

Practice today was pretty uneventful. I missed the heat, and I was wicked sore everywhere.

I am still working on bhuja. No idea how to lift up without putting my toes on the ground (guessing I need a bit more strength and to find the proper balance point) or to to jump back once I get my legs into a low bakasana. My teacher pointed out that I need to look up and lift my chest up when I jump, rather than look at the floor. I tried a couple times, and landed in a modified bellyflop. Pretty amusing thus far. I am thinking this will be weeks if not months of further flopping fun til I get this. Will getting this transition make me a better person? nah.. But it is fun to try.

I feel like something is slowly shifting for me this summer. One of the things that the feldenkrais trainers constantly told us was to get comfortable with to the feeling of not knowing. I discovered that I am (still!) not so comfortable with this feeling, although I felt that way most of the training..often that I was just touching the surface of things, if that much. Knowing is security, permanence..not knowing..is...scary. All my insecurities were activated: am I doing this correctly, what should I be feeling, that person I am working with knows better than me, they are all better at this than me..and on and on. The thing is, as I talked with other people in the training, I found out pretty much everyone felt this way at some point. The trainers would say that if we thought we knew something..we really didn't. This is a real practice in itself, learning this method, becoming more aware of my body and my thoughts, and most importantly, accepting not knowing.

Not knowing has been a real tough thing for me always. I could accept that somewhat when I made art, but not, say, in my personal life. When I was younger, the ambiguity of whether or not a guy I went out with liked me...well, that was too much for me.

This yoga practice is the first place where I don't feel a sense of urgency to know everything. In time, I will learn what I need to learn; it can't really be rushed. I am getting more comfortable with not knowing, falling over, trying my best but not getting as attached to the results.

worth the wait

At last, I found a chocolate croissant via Hawthorne Valley Farms at the farmers' market. I have been craving one for a couple days, but the options in my neighborhood are not so good for pastries. Over the years, one of the things I have slowly been giving up is wheat. Never altogether, but just having less and generally wanting less. Though I can always make a happy exception for some good bread or other snack item.

Guess I should have photographed it before I ate it, but it was goooooood. Lots of gloriously melt-y chocolate from the heat.

Here's the aftermath:

Enjoy your rest day.

mindfulness in practice, summer reading part 2

I started reading the two books by Ellen Langer: Counterclockwise and The Power of Mindful Learning.  Both books describe how we can improve our learning experiences and even obtain better health if we think in terms of possibilities rather than absolutes. Counterclockwise talks about a study that she did with elderly men, who, when immersed in the culture of 1959, and also envisioning themselves at this time, actually felt, acted and looked younger as a result. It shows the power of the mind to reverse the effects of aging (though perhaps more the effects of boredom or being under-appreciated by their families). What she writes seems pretty obvious to me, but that it is documented by all sorts of studies is what makes it powerful.

Langer writes: "A mindful approach to any activity has three characteristics: the continuous creation of new categories; openness to new information; and and implicit awareness of more than one perspective." (The Power of Mindful Learning, p.4)


Practice yesterday was exhausting for me. I don't know if it was the humidity, that it was day 4 in a row of full practice (I usually do 2 days, rest day, then 3 days, rest day, etc..though I want to start to change this) or that it was from trying to figure out why on earth my right knee was sore, or more likely, all three combined. My knee wasn't achy in the joint, but sore above and below, and had been getting worse all week. Even downward dog was a problem for it yesterday! At that point, after the suryas, I realized it would be a modified practice.

Whenever I ask my teacher what to do when something hurts, she always invites me to use a mindful approach: listen to my body, work around it, notice how it feels (ie. do my wrists feel better after a few suryas, or do they feel worse), notice if it depends on the weather. Often this frustrates me, not because it is not a good approach..but that sometimes (ok, most of the time!) I want an absolute answer where none is even warranted. Plus, an absolute answer can lock me into a view of my injury that is limiting (ironically, I can see this easily with my friends, but not so easily with myself). Much of the healing that seems to happen seems to be predicated by my deciding that the injury is no longer a "problem" or a "limitation".

So, back to my achy knee.

I decided I would try to do as little to aggravate it as possible, and I would try to pay attention to how it feels, rather than just plunging straight ahead into my full practice. Lotusing still was alright, though bending over the lotus was not so good, and when I arrived at Janu A, I couldn't fold at all without pain in the knee! So I stayed upright and just breathed. No tears, no panic, just accepting that this was all I could safely do today. In Janu B, I realized that it was my right hip that was so tight - I could feel my IT band throbbing- and after sitting upright for a few breaths, I slowly started to fold forward and held it longer than usual in order to stretch that achy hip. Yes, 2 days back at work after a week of not sitting at a desk, along with the repercussions of my previous injury to my right foot, my right hip was extremely tight, and pulling on everything around the knee. For the rest of my practice, I took it easy on the right side and went slowly. While it didn't do great things for the energy of my practice yesterday, it was a great exercise in mindfulness.

summer reading

My attempt to read Kino's book has been delayed for a couple months, til more are printed. I decided to buy Guruji instead, which I have been savoring this week during my breaks from my training. I am only about a quarter way through it, but I especially enjoyed David Swenson's interview. His circuitous path to his asthanga practice really resonated with me. I always have this image in my head that people who are great teachers find this practice early on and don't stop practicing once they start, and that they don't try other styles of yoga or other things altogether. I hope I get to study with him at some time.

I ordered some books by Ellen Langer on mindfulness and learning, and of course more books by Moshe Feldenkrais. What I need now are some good novels to read.

I am a bit braindead from the 9 day Feldenkrais training. Hopefully, I will manage a post on that later this week. It has been a week of kinesthetic dreams, mostly yoga and/or family related. I discovered today during the training, that I can fall asleep lying on my side with my arm up in the air; made me feel like a little kid again.

Practice today was good, but heavy. I felt weak, even though I had a rest day on Saturday. The highlight of the day was that I managed to walk my hands in during my last backbend. It is not the depth of the backbend that I cared about, but that I could lift my hands one at a time to move them (no snaking them along my mat). I must be getting more weight in my legs at last. I have been able to stay an extra breath or two at times this week, and I want to build up my time in my backbends to strengthen my legs. My balance also seems to have returned this week. I did UHP by myself twice this week, and it went pretty well both times. I think I just fell out once each time, before the last bit on the second side. I don't know if it was the Feldenkrais, or maybe a bit more sleep, or both. I hope it continues.


My rather uncontrolled jumping through has also been scaled back to jumping with crossed legs and working towards having some control when I land (maybe next lifetime?). I miss the flowing sense of jumping through with straight-ish legs, but after impaling my feet on my mat, I can live without it for long while. Plus, it gives me a little more energy for the rest of my practice, which I could definitely use. 

Lastly, I am slowly realizing the importance of the breath to the practice. This is what I most want to work on now.

more thoughts about disorientation

I guess I have always liked moments of disorientation..not drunken where am I moments, but anything that makes me think twice about which way is up. We spend our whole lives oriented to gravity, so that when something overrides it, it is a pretty memorable event.

The E, F/ V station at 51st and 5th ave has a very long escalator with a diagonal ceiling that will challenge your sense of which way is up. I used to enjoy the feeling that up was at 45 degrees to where it normally is when I rode this escalator.

I have never been to the santa cruz mystery spot..but it is another good example of this phenomena.

When I was little, I used to love spinning spinning spinning in one direction, and then suddenly going the opposite way (or just stopping) and feeling the room seem to spin around me. As an adult, however, that feeling somehow doesn't feel so fun anymore, as I remember from a recent dance class.

I remember the first time I did a headstand by myself. It was at home, maybe 5 years ago, and I watched a video on it, and said to myself: I can do that..and tried it. I was up at the wall for maybe 5 seconds, and it totally blew my mind. It was hard to believe that being totally upside down would have such a startling and disorienting effect on my perception. I was transfixed for that brief moment. After all, I could bend down and look through my legs..as my head would be upside down, yet this did not have the same effect. My nervous system simply couldn't understand the paradox of how I was essentially "standing", but upside down. Subsequent attempts at headstand never had that effect on me. My body now understood what that new orientation meant.

With the feldenkrais method, it is those moments of disorientation where you actually learn, That is the nervous system, or the brain, learns. These moments reveal our missing pieces in our self image. We just don't normally have too many of these experiences after childhood, because our families, friends and society become more important than what we actually sense and feel in our bodies. I had a one on one session today, as part of my training, and at the end had the wonderful and intense feeling of my feet feeling heavy, grounded, really fixed to the floor with the weight balanced across them, while the rest of my body felt so much lighter than it normally does. I hope I can carry some of that feeling onto the mat tomorrow.

disorientation, double bhuja and injured again

Twice this week my pinkies touched the floor (assisted) in prasarita padottanasana C. The first time (Sunday) was so disorienting: I felt like I was standing on the ceiling and reaching down to touch the floor. Afterwards, I actually had to ask my teacher if that was the floor! It made me think how infrequently we let our sense of control go, because knowing your orientation in space is a sort of control. It was a total surprise to me, but I guess my arms and hands were quite a bit closer than I thought. I tried to pay attention to it this week, and could not tell much: it is hard to determine how close my arms are to the ground once I am partially upside down. 


More work on bhuja this week, namely trying to do the exit. I asked my teacher a question about it, and was rewarded by having to try it again. Keeping my arms a bit wider and making sure my hands are straight (I tend to turn one out in my down dog) helps a lot with the pressure on my wrists, while trying to squeeze my arms with my thighs is more of an idea than an actual action. Since I have gotten bhuja, my body has reacted with a round robin of new sore areas, after every practice. The latest was sore sides, which was probably also from my improved (mostly) jumping through. I finally started to get the vinyasa to flow more, and to be able to jump through (bumpily) more consistently. I was really starting to enjoy this new feeling of a more dynamic flow in my practice. 


The downside of the jumping through, is, however, missing the mark! I really bruised my right foot, in the line of the pinky toe, when I dragged it through in my landing, somewhere around mari B. Before that, I was finally feeling like my wrist isses were under control, my ankle had healed and I was surviving the rocky first weeks of bhuja and jumping through. The yoga gods give, and they taketh away. Yes, it is hours later, and I am over the first mental panic over this. I am very happy tomorrow is a moon day. Hoping the ibuprofen will help, and that I didn't somehow give myself a stress fracture.


Finally, I watched Kino's video about the experience of practicing in Mysore. Oh, I do want to go at some point. I have felt that way since I started this practice, but also fear it being too much for me ( if I would only not push myself so much, even inadvertently, I might not constantly be injuring myself). My favorite part was her talking about how being in Guruji's presence made her physical pain from an old injury go away once and for all. She spoke of how pain is really something in the mind, that the mind creates (both the physical and the mental kinds), and is a pattern that can be changed both with practice and especially in the presence your teacher. It reminds me that I can still practice with an injury, especially as injuries bring up the trifecta of fear, anger and the desire to give up.

What it means

Saturday, I went to union square farmer's market with M. We had a great time looking at all the produce and plants, and I bought some nasturtium plants. Every time I look at plants, it gives me a longing for more space to grow stuff in (or outside of) my apartment. It is so much harder to keep plants alive in an overly hot apartment in the summer. Plus, I keep trying to grow edible plants- this year basil, lettuce and nasturtiums, which are always harder to grow indoors. Last summer's swiss chard experiment was a dismal failure.

While we were wandering through the market, an Indian man stopped me to ask where I had bought my shawl, because he wanted to find fabric like that to have a shirt made. I had bought this shawl along with a few others on the street, over a year ago..and haven't seen any in Manhattan since. I told him he would probably have to go to Jackson Heights.

                                                                  the writing on my shawl

He told me what the words on my shawl meant - hare rama hare krishna (ok, I hope I have the photo the right way around), sounding it out for me as he pointed to each letter. Then he showed his companions, doing the same for them. A really lovely moment.

Nice to finally know what it means.