Today, I rolled out my mat on my living room floor here in Mysore, knowing full well that it would be another two months before self-practice became a solo flight once again. The night before, I had thought about messaging some friends here and inviting them over to practice. Why practice alone when you’re in Gokulam? One could throw a rock out here and easily hit an ashtanga practitioner. Still, there was a part of me that wanted to savour this last self-practice, the strange quiet of a room with just my breath and the occasional (ok, more than occasional!) murmur of my thoughts interjecting themselves in the funniest of places.
Somehow, it felt important to honour the fact that mostly I’m on my own. And while I saw Sharathji a year ago for a week of led classes in London and have been fortunate enough to piece together a whopping three weeks with some very special authorised and certified teachers, it has been two years almost since my last Mysore trip—an incredible two months during the last teachers’ course which was too precious to even write about. Barring getting together here and there with a couple of my fellow ashtanga teachers in Egypt (I’m so grateful for this), I’m a lot on my own, and so many of us do it.
I do feel guided daily by my teacher, supported by the thought of him, but largely the grind of daily practice has been on my own shoulders. And so I practiced, just me, me and all my flourishes, all my extra breaths and extra stretches. Even though it’s been like this for a while, I’m amazed that I can get on the mat not just when it’s easy (and there many beautiful times when it is), or when there’s a teacher (which is so awesome when it happens), but also when it’s just me and all of my heavy inflexible thoughts join in, and it’s hard and everything is a struggle and I have all these bad feelings because I’m tired, or I’m hungry or because students aren’t coming. I think I must be doing ok because these moments pass, sukkha and dukkha are like waves, maybe—for now—we are just meant to ride them.
Of course, today’s self practice was also special because I know what’s coming next: two months of a heaving energetic room, community, my teacher. I am starting now to see the sustainability of maintaining practice in Mysore and practice wherever it is we are meant to live, that one thrives off the other. That not only does the time spent here in Mysore, India fuel all the other days, but also visa versa. All those solo flights ultimately bring us back here, they return us to this surreal alternate universe that is also kind of home.
Somehow, it felt important to honour the fact that mostly I’m on my own. And while I saw Sharathji a year ago for a week of led classes in London and have been fortunate enough to piece together a whopping three weeks with some very special authorised and certified teachers, it has been two years almost since my last Mysore trip—an incredible two months during the last teachers’ course which was too precious to even write about. Barring getting together here and there with a couple of my fellow ashtanga teachers in Egypt (I’m so grateful for this), I’m a lot on my own, and so many of us do it.
I do feel guided daily by my teacher, supported by the thought of him, but largely the grind of daily practice has been on my own shoulders. And so I practiced, just me, me and all my flourishes, all my extra breaths and extra stretches. Even though it’s been like this for a while, I’m amazed that I can get on the mat not just when it’s easy (and there many beautiful times when it is), or when there’s a teacher (which is so awesome when it happens), but also when it’s just me and all of my heavy inflexible thoughts join in, and it’s hard and everything is a struggle and I have all these bad feelings because I’m tired, or I’m hungry or because students aren’t coming. I think I must be doing ok because these moments pass, sukkha and dukkha are like waves, maybe—for now—we are just meant to ride them.
Of course, today’s self practice was also special because I know what’s coming next: two months of a heaving energetic room, community, my teacher. I am starting now to see the sustainability of maintaining practice in Mysore and practice wherever it is we are meant to live, that one thrives off the other. That not only does the time spent here in Mysore, India fuel all the other days, but also visa versa. All those solo flights ultimately bring us back here, they return us to this surreal alternate universe that is also kind of home.
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