My Teacher

It has been a few days since I have blogged. Partly because I have been sick and the other part because no one would want to read about me lying around reading my book. I spent all of yesterday (except for practice and conference with Sharath) sleeping and resting in bed. I have been downing mass quantities of water in hopes that I can flush my body of whatever is holding it hostage. Today I feel on my way to better. At conference Sharath talked about practicing when we dont want to. I felt like he was talking right to me. Back home, I probably would have stayed in bed on Sunday morning and not practiced. However, while it was not pleasant, it was not as tragic a practice as I thought it would have been. I hope I can take this new resurgence in dedication back home with me to Philly.

Practice was surprising today. Yesterday, I about near had to drag myself on to my mat, and I was a bit concerned that today would be as difficult. However, it went swimmingly. I felt well rested, had a good spot with lots of room, and was reminded about how much the breath can tell you about your practice. Last week I was given Krounchasana. I practiced through Krounchasana (which is a lot more open after practicing primary series) and prepared for back bending. I did my three urdvha dhanurasanas and came to stand...to Sharath's face. "You do krounchasana?" I replied yes and asked if he wanted to see. He looked at me and said "No. I believe you. Wednesday you do Salabasana and Bhekasana. Both." And that was that. I did three half drop backs and then grabbed my calves. No big deal:)

I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be a teacher and am sure have exhausted Trice's ears with chatter about it. More specifically what it means for me to call someone "my teacher." In the dictionary is states: a teacher is someone who teaches or instructs. Now, forget the fact that you are not supposed to use the word in the definition, but I do not think that this does any justice to the profession of teaching or that it gives any idea of what it truly means to be a teacher. Uneasy as it makes me feel to say this out loud, I feel a bit lost when it comes to identifying someone as my yoga teacher. I place teachers in very high regard (especially because my mother was one...and still is in essence) and really set the bar high. I really love the student teacher relationship and the dance that exists between them. I thrive well as a student and really embrace that role. Sharath definitely meets that bar and then soars above it. I trust him to guide my practice. My body trusts him (I know this because my body responds, not in tension, but in acceptance). I trust what he tells me. This would be all fine and dandy if I lived here in India and could practice with him always, but this is not the case. I will leave Mysore in 2 weeks, and in another 2 weeks I will be home. Sharath will always be my teacher, but I deeply desire this connection back home. This new revelation makes me a bit uneasy and I am not sure that this blog even articulates my thought process. Maybe I should be keeping this all to myself and just plug along on my path, but it feels better to write it down. I used to feel connected to a teacher during my first year or so, but times change and so does the world around us. I have to admit to myself that I am looking for someone to call "My Teacher."

On Saturday we went to the Metropol, which is a fancy hotel, for lunch. The hotel is like something out of a movie. It is very reminiscent of British colonialism. I felt like I was in the movie "Lawrence of Arabia." We ate and chatted and just enjoyed. The pictures above are from out trip.

In My Past Life....

I have not blogged in a few days because our days have been a little lazy and uneventful. It has been a nice little pause from all the chaos and allowing my reserves to refill.

Yesterday Trice and I went to past life regression therapy. Now, for those of you who have never heard of this (as I had not until Trice brought me into the loop), it is a practice that allows you to see/address/view your past lives. You come with an issue that you are working on in this life and, hopefully, you go to the past life that is influencing that issue or a past life where you were able to resolve that issue. I was skeptical and a bit nervous. What if, in a past life, I was an ax murder? a wife abuser? a republican?!

And so, I went for my session. Without giving all the nitty-gritty of it and boring you, I will jump to the interesting part. My issue you ask? Anxiety. Never feeling good enough. Fear. This was my "issue" for the day. And so I entered into a past life and this is what I saw. My name was Cynthia, Cindy for short. At the age of 3 I saw my mother fall from a step stool in the kitchen, hit her head on the counter, and die immediately. As a child I was a bit plump and enjoyed sweets, which is what had brought me into the kitchen where I saw my mother's death. Taken in by an older neighbor woman, I grew up to be very obese (think the movie "Shallow Hal" as a size reference) who was lonely. I had no friends because I felt I was not good enough and I lived my life in solitude. I worked in a bookstore and never dated. At the age of 56, I died of a heart attack alone in my bedroom. I had so many feelings of fear, loneliness, and inadequacy that it was palpable. I know this sounds very depressing and very sad, but Kumar (the past life therapist) then asked the self in the past life what I would tell the me of now. I said "Be happy. Just let it go."

I am not sure what effect, if any, this session will have on me, but the experience that I had was profound. The true and tangible emotions that come of this cannot be denied. I can see the connections that past life could potentially have on this life. I want to believe that I was able to let something go. I have signed up for one more session, and if anything, it was a great experience. I mentioned this to Mark in an email the other day and instead of scoffing at it he said "It makes sense." At least I am not totally off my rocker:)

I spend the afternoon with Jill-ji today. A nice little slice of home here in India. We went to the bookstore, then to FabIndia, and then to lunch. We gabbed, we laughed, we just enjoyed. It was lovely.

Pictures: a Pug puppy in a laundry basket taking a nap in style; Trice with the monkey that ate my banana

A New Pose

Yesterday's practice was slow, heavy, and tight. After climbing all those stairs, I think my hips and calves went on strike. And so, yesterday we just relaxed for the afternoon. I got the chance to finish the book I was reading, which was bitter sweet. It was one of those books that you want to get to the ending, but it is so good you dont want it to end. Two thumbs up. I treated myself to the smallest, little, miniature scoop of ice cream and it was good. I have tried to have a few little treats, and all have come up very short. Moisture is a bit lacking in baked goods. But the ice cream was yummy, and even had a little chunk of brownie in it. Hit the spot.

We figured out how to watch some movies online, which is a nice reprieve to all the mental motion that goes on while trying to acclimate to India. We turned off all the lights, drew the curtains, and snuggled down for a little mindless enjoyment.

When the alarm went off this morning I was actually a little sluggish, even though compared to led start time, our mysore time is like sleeping in. I dragged myself out of bed and we headed out. The mornings seem to been a bit cooler the past few days and the quiet walk to the shala is really nice. The vestibule filled up quickly and I was happy we got there on the earlier side (Trice calls me the slave driver about getting out of the apartment no later than 6:15). When I heard "one more" I grabbed my mat and headed into the practice room. Today I had focus. I felt relaxed. I felt soft. I like it when I can find this space. I proceeded to move through the fundamentals, when Sharath stood over me and said "You take Pasasana. Only Pasasana." I nodded in recognition, tried not to giggle, but smiled a little inside at the same time. It is a great privilege to be given the first post in second series. My deep respect for this practice makes me keenly aware of the importance and significance of this. And for this I am thankful. Pasasana. I forget how deep and open the post can be after the entire primary series practice.

We bought some homemade peanut butter and bread this morning outside the shala. We are very excited about this. The peanut butter in stores is very expensive and the kind that has all sorts of fake stuff in it, like Jiffy back home. The homemade stuff is incredible. And who knew baked bread could make two girls so excited!

Pictures: What we have noticed from driving around southern India is that the practice of digging up HUGE trees and their roots is very common. On out way to dinner we always pass this enormous root. Trice got under and pretended to carry it. So silly. Although, with the way her muscles are growing she maybe could carry it away:) The monkeys here are everywhere and have no boundaries when it comes to personal space. I posted one picture of a rather large an in charge monkey just chillin'. Tomorrow I will post the picture of Trice and the monkey that ate my banana. I have also posted a picture of my puppies. I miss them and am constantly reminded of them by the dogs here.

Way Better Than A Stairmaster

Today is our rest day from practice, so we headed off to Chamundi Temple here in Mysore. The temple is at the top of a huge hill and to reach it you must climb over 1000 steps (although, when we got to the top we realized there is a slacker route via a road straight to the top). We arrived at the bottom of the steps and headed upwards. The steps were many, uneven, and quite steep. As you are walking up we noticed the little red and yellow smudges on the fronts of each step. This is for the most devout of people, as they reach down and touch each and every step. Trying not to pass out was devotion enough for us. When we reached the top, a bit sweaty, but thankful that we decided to make the trek in the morning before the sun became brutal, we were greeted by a beautiful and intricate temple. Now forgive me if I am inaccurate, but from my research the temple is to the goddess Durga. She is a fierce goddess that helps you in time of great need and desperate situations. She is the "one who can redeem in situations of utmost distress". She manifests as fearlessness and patience, and never loses her sense of humor. She is often pictured riding a lion. I like here and for some reason she resonates with me.

Durga is deep inside the temple and you actually cannot get close to her statue. Everyone leaves money and offerings of flowers or coconuts to her, then places their hands over the small fire at the entrance and places their hands over their face. Thankfully, an older woman showed us what to do and we too gave our respects. Outside the temple we were given red and yellow string that was wrapped around out right wrists. From what I found out, it is given for protection when you have gone to make an offering to a god/goddess.

We stayed a while and looked around. While we were there the king of Mysore apparently entered into the temple, which seemed to be a big deal. Based off of the fact that he had a procession of cars and was riding in a BMW, I would think this is an accurate statement. We stopped for a moment to have a coconut and rest before heading back down, and this is when we were introduced to the father upfront and greedy monkeys. As Trice finished up her coconut, the monkey sat patiently waiting for her to fork it over. When she was done, the monkey grab it, straw and all and took off. I had a banana in my pocket and began to peel it so I could enjoy its contents when another monkey came scurrying over and grab it out of my hand. It was all in great humor. You snooze, you lose.

Now, we thought the trip up was a feat, but the trip down was just as taxing. Unlike the Indians that seem to just spring down, we we moving slow and with great caution so as not to take a tumble down. By the time we reached the bottom our legs were shaking. Quite the experience!

I was going to post yesterday about the dogs here in India, but after writing it all out I decided not to share it. I will leave it at this...I am deeply saddened by how many dogs live here and my heartstrings are tugged on a regular basis. Dont worry Mark, I will not be bringing any puppies home:)

Led practice tomorrow at 4:30am. We are heading off to the palace in Mysore tomorrow evening. Should be fun and produce some good pictures.

"And All the Over-Achievers See This As A Gift!"

"And all the over-achievers see this as a gift!" was Trice's reaction to this morning's news. While moving through the seated postures this morning at practice, Sharath ambled over to the woman next to me to adjust her in a pose. Trying to stay focused and remain calm, I jumped through to sit hoping I wouldn't smack him in the butt with my foot. Coming to sit and situating myself in marichasana C, he turned to me and said "You come tomorrow 4:30...and Sunday." "4:30?" I managed to squeak out. "Yes. 4:30. You and your friend. Come." And that was that. He had changed our start time for led class. I finished my practice. Grabbed my ankles during back bends and then picked up my mat and headed to the locker room for closing. Trice was already moving through her closing practice, and I could tell that Sharath had not graced her with the news yet. I thought to myself....I should let her enjoy savasana first before I break the new to her. We finished up, changed clothes and headed out. Silence is maintained in the shala, so I would have to wait till we were outside to tell her. As we reached the door, we turned to bow our heads to Sharath. I stepped out first with Trice behind me. She paused in response to his voice and I knew he had dropped the bomb. She walked out and turned to me with her eyes WIDE open and mouthed "4:30!." I just smiled.

Pictures: an add for a loan (I thought this funny since at the age of 22 the idea of marriage gave me hives), me hanging out in the room

Winter Hats, Honking Horns, and Nan

From what I hear from family and friends, the weather back home is cold. Now, when I reflect on what "cold" means to me, I picture below 10 degrees Fahrenheit, with a windchill of -5 and maybe even snow. The weather here, in comparison, is warm, but as Trice and I are starting to realize...warm and cold are completely relative. When we leave our apartment at 6:15am to walk to the shala, the temperature is probably around 65-70 degrees. We comment on how nice it is as we walk in our yoga pants and tops, and maybe a scarf around our necks. Indians attire on the other hand is drastically different. The man in the security booth that we pass every morning as we leave is always wearing a wool had, winter scarf wrapped around his face, and a heavy jacket. He sits there, huddled away as though there were a blizzard outside and he is protecting himself from frostbite. The rest of the people we encounter, from young to old, seem to find the weather here to be cold. Wool hats are common and jackets are not out of the ordinary. So as Trice and I sludge our way through the hot sun, sweat dripping down our backs as we climb the hill to our abode, we cannot help but laugh at all the bundled up Indians with desire that we too could feel cold.

Both Trice and I are very aware of what NYC driving is like. We are used to horns honking, people passing, and fast driving. India dwarfs NYC. I have never heard so much horn tooting. Drivers constantly honk. Honk to go through an intersection (I have yet to see a stop sign). Hong to pass people (which happens constantly). Honk to tell people...get the f*%k out of the way or I will run you over with my rickshaw. Now, they dont honk once. They honk multiple times and even when there is no possible way that you are not aware of their presence they honk a few more times for merit. It is very fascinating. I, however (Trice has much more patience for this practice), am over the honking. I know you are coming. I know you will squish me like a bug if I dont dive off the road and into the bushes. I can see your car coming. The New Yorker in me has been trying to get out. As the honking begins, I can feel the bird itching to come out of its cage and fly through the air. I want more than anything to "flip 'um the bird" but I have resisted. I have pacified the bird for the time being, but I cannot promise anything:)

We had another cooking class today. It went well. We learned a few northern Indian dishes, which are my favorite. Not only did we get to do some tasty dishes, but I got to learn how to make NAN! I am very excited about this. I think I could live off nan...plus it has no ghee, no butter, no oil and is not spicy which all adds up to a settled stomach. Now you ask, what is in nan? I bet you would have never guessed what goes into a piece of nan. The two main ingredients are white flour and YOGURT! Yes, plain yogurt. Never in a million years would I have said yogurt was a main component of nan. Well, now that I know, everyone back home start preparing for a little nan when I get back.

Practice has been good this week. The instruction is minimal, which I should have expected since there are about 60 people at one time in the shala. I have yet to be adjusted in anything but back bending, which is a mildly uncomfortable adjustment as Sharath makes me grab my ankles, but I am accepting of this. I know that I will learn, even if it comes more from myself and less from Sharath. Many people back home have asked if he has given me any second series' poses and the answer is no. The tradition is that you must be there a month before he will even think of starting someone on second. I am quite content with this, as I feel no pressure and get to just do my practice. I enjoy primary series and the softness of it for me allows me to really focus on the breath. I am waiting to the lessons that I will learn and the knowledge or clarity to present itself. "Do your practice. All is coming."

Pictures: Trice making nan, the potato chip making man making FRESH potato chips! yummy!

Seed Chewer

I apologize ahead of time, but this entry has no silly rats or naked massages. It is a slow day, with lots of down time. Which for me always equals thinking, and in this case "seed chewing". I first heard my cousin use this term and was immediately draw to it because this is what I do. I take a thought and I chew, and chew, and chew. I roll it around in my head and chew. Never really getting anywhere, just causing more anxiety and tension. The seed chewing just continues to feed on itself. This is how I have spent my morning.

I am constantly reminded at how much I thrive on consistency and routine. I find comfort and easy is sameness. I am sure this is why I am draw to the tradition of Ashtanga. The repetition in practice, the steadiness in the flow, and most of all the same faces coming to the mat every morning. Being grounded, having a foundation, this I like.

I know this about myself. I have accepted the astrological influence of Cancer in my life. I have even grown to value this about myself. I do however, acknowledge the very obvious drawbacks to this mentality. Change is not my friend. Change is very uncomfortable. Change hurts and shakes me to my core.

I have been struggling with this on many fronts since arriving to India. At home, practice is surrounded by familiar face, familiar practices, familiar laughs. Here, at the shala, I know only two people. Everyone seems very intense and this change in energy has thrown me off a bit. I keep creating this serious in my head where everyone is judging me and each other. Total seed chewing moment. Totally self created.

Back home I grow fearful that the world I have know over the past few years is drastically changing. I am no longer a student (in the very formal sense), my best friend is moving away, my yoga home is changing, and I have no idea where I will be in 3 months. I am terrified. The seed has been planted and I am trying not to chew, but habit is strong. I feel a bit without a foundation. I feel my roots slipping from beneath the earth. I feel lost.

A friend mentioned to me the other day that I rarely post pictures of myself on my blog, so today, since I have taken no pictures yet, I will post some of me that Trice has taken.