landing

It's New Year's Eve today in Mysore. Five days since arriving, and I feel like I am finally landing. In many ways it's been a smooth re-entry back. My room and new home for the month, a beautiful space belonging to a dear friend, was super clean upon arrival. My roommates are friendly and accommodating, despite me coming so early in the morning. Shala registration went without a hitch. Practice started on the 27th, a 4:30 Friday led class. And I was lucky enough to have a 2-day break with moon day and saturday one after the other.

Phone activation went a little topsy turvy when a man wielding a blade whittled down a mirco-SIM card into supposed nano-size, suitable for my new iPhone, which resulted in his professional conclusion, "Sorry, Madam, it will not fit," as he handed me the butchered SIM card. Luckily, a short walk up the road, the local Airtel center was able to issue me a replacement SIM with the same number.

Made great use of my two-dy break. Had a wonderful home-cooked meal prepared by one friend, and joined another for one at 6th Main. I spent one day visiting the new local organic shops. Then the next day sleeping off a fierce fever.

I'd settled in, visited with some friends, gotten sick, and yet didn't entirely feel like I'd arrived properly. All was good. But something was missing. Some spark that I so identify as part of the magic of Mysore, that indescribable feeling of being here, subtle electric excitement. I was starting to think: is this what it's like the third time around? Does the thrill of simply being here wear off the more frequent you visit?

It would make sense, I reasoned with myself. The newness of the place wears off, the novelty goes eventually. That's the trade off when you start to really get to know a place. And I did feel this wonderful sense of homecoming, seeing so many familiar faces, feeling a strong sense of camaraderie. I do enjoy the ease of returning this time around, slipping back as if I was continuing seamlessly a journey that started two years and three months ago.

This morning, when I was in down dog (being a bad lady and thinking of something other than the posture at hand) and I was surveying the shala underneath my body. I was wondering how maybe the next phase of practice was this lack of feeling, that maybe this is a part of non-attachment, but then, what would keep me coming back here? -- I promise, it was a short reverie and not an overly-long downward-facing dog.

Without me knowing, things started to shift. There was no more thinking. I was just practicing. I was just breathing. I was just jumping forward or jumping back, folding forward or bending back. In no time, practice was done. Before I left the shala, I proceeded with what has become such an integral part of my personal practice here in Mysore, I stand at the door, facing the direction of Sharath and bow to him in gratitude and respect as I take my leave. And unless he's in the office or assisting a student in something really complicated, Sharath always takes part in this small exchange, which feels like the sum total of our teacher-student relationship.

And as I gestured in namaste I felt, so suddenly, all the magic that had been missing. I broke out into a huge smile, which Sharath also returned.

Landing now, I know that the magic is still here. It's everywhere and nowhere at once. Its essence exists in each moment of genuine connection, whether it is between a person and a place, between two or more people, or between a student and a teacher.

mysore magic, the documentary

Mysore Magic's opening clip:
Morning coco in front of the shala.

It was a happy Sunday/Shankranti yesterday, full of pongal and painted cows. Conference was canceled due to festivities but, for me at least, it felt quite ok to keep the afternoon free and easy. And as with everything to do with Mysore, the day was magical in that oh-so-subtle way.

Between beautiful opportunities of sharing between friends, from led class to a beautiful lunch cooked with love to just enjoying the simple pleasures like ice-cream and pizza, there was the sneak peek at the film Mysore Magic.

For the last few weeks, one might have noticed the guerilla-style film-making threesome--Alex Medin with film-makers/yoga practitioners Jim and Angie Kambeitz--taking in the various scenes around Gokulam. They seemed to be everywhere at one point, at the coconut stand, in conference, at led class and self-practice, as they worked to capture the special quality that draws us all here to Mysore, to practice at KPJAYI.

Yesterday, Alex arranged a preview and special Shankranti/thank you lunch for the participants of the documentary. We all packed into one of his apartment living rooms, dimmed for the occasion. A screen projector was set up to run the 21 minute docu, so aptly titled, Mysore Magic.

The film, driven by interviews with Sharath, Saraswathi, some prominent scholars of Mysore, and a sampling of long-time and newer shala students from around the world, showcased the different themes of life around the practice: the roots of this amazing system, the remarkable lineage, the draw of the practice and how it has the power to transform the lives of the people who embrace it.

In all, it is a beautiful representation of what happens at the shala here in Mysore. It captures the flavor of the area, which is steeped in yogic tradition. It illustrates the spirit of the practice in the faces of those whose lives have been changed because of it.

For me, particularly, it's an honor to take part, to share my thoughts about this extraordinary Mysore magic, which constantly awes/challenges/blesses me. And the film itself is like a time capsule of this special and, yes!, magical period of my life.

Well done to Alex, Jim and Angie! They produced this excellent work in record time without sacrificing the love for the project and their own practice.

The documentary Mysore Magic will be shown at next Sunday's conference and is supposed to be available for all to see--eventually--on the shala website.