self practice

First day back on the mat. Just me in my bedroom here in Manila--a far cry from the unbeatable energy of the shala. I miss the wave that carries me through my practice, powered by others deeply focused on their own sadhana. I miss the inconspicuous watchfulness of Sharath and the blessings of the lineage, hundreds of hours of teaching, and of practice, of innumerable cycles of breathing with sound. Oh God! I really, really miss it.

Today's practice was like pushing an ox cart in a muddy field, heavy, leaden, no ox in sight. Just me attempting to barrel through standing and second series. My goal today after a 4-day break, in fairness I also had Lady's, was to just get through it. It was hard to sustain the energy on my own. It was hard to create momentum by one's lonesome.

Still, this is precisely why I know I must do it. This is the real test of my dedication to the practice. Not how well I perform when Sharath is there to see me, but how well I perform when there is no one else in the room but me. How much am I capable of when I am my sole witness.

In many ways, ashtanga is designed to be a solitary practice. You rely on your own wits, your understanding of the sequence, your drishti, your breath. The practice is a gift that we grow to own ourselves--and bringing it home is the real opportunity to own it. To make it ours. To integrate it into our lives--because we do have lives outside of Mysore...

So as I struggle these first days away from the yoga bubble, I am also trying to call upon its spirit--because that is something we can take with us. Mysore is also a state of mind, I remind myself. It's something that we learn along with the practice in the shala. And that, at least, takes no additional room in the luggage.

transit

It’s been a crazy couple of days. Finally slept on the plane. Almost wish the flights had been longer. I’m sure I have the look of a person who is lost and dazed. I am not just a couple of hours off beat, but an entire dimension it seems. The real world, I remember, is very different from Mysore. The energy is so different in India.

Still, I’m in traveler’s limbo, where everything is hyper ordered and clinically hygienic. Singapore’s Changi airport is my third airport in 9 hours. Now at the lost and found office awaiting one of my bags unwittingly left behind. I am a person in transit, one foot forward, the other dragging a little, nothing new there.

I’ve had little time to mull on my premature departure. Things have happened quickly: my dad and stepsister coming down with dengue, dropping platelets, packing, making my way home. Less than 48 hours.

I am starting to take stock of unfinished business I’ve left behind: three more weeks in the shala (I just reregistered for my fourth month last week), an apartment paid up till mid-March, a week of philosophy class, and a Sanskrit teacher I’d failed to inform about my departure. I wonder what I’ve forgotten on top of that.

Time is a most precious commodity, and there are some losses that seem unquantifiable: spending time under Sharath’s watchful eye, time with dear friends, and time to dig into oneself, which feels so much easier in Mysore, when one is more soft and pliable.

I left saying I could come back, when my father recovers. But I don’t know if that’s how it’s going to work out in the end. The recovery period from dengue can be quite long. And, upon taking leave of the shala, Sharath said I should return when things are quieter, when there are less students.

Truth is I can feel reality tugging me back the further away I get from Mysore. I can feel the pull of family and the dharma that comes with being a daughter—at least my version of it, which I know strays from the Philippine ideal. I’ve bought my dad a bottle of Glenfiddich malt whiskey for us to break open when he finally feels better.

And I can feel that even if this wasn’t exactly my plan, this is the way things are supposed to be.

(This was written, literally, in transit. I am now in Manila. Arrived yesterday night. My dad is still in a critical time. But I've seen him and feel that recovery is around the corner. The irony is that I am now not allowed to visit. I have a cold. And he's too vulnerable to be exposed to it. The good news is my step sister is better and has returned home from the hospital.)

booking flights, packing and flowing with grace

It's ironic. For the last week, I've had nothing but anxiety at knowing I was at my last month of practice. (I still have 3 weeks to go). I was fixated on wanting, needing more time. I fretted over asking Sharath the dreaded question of extension.

And now, I'm packing. Or rather, I should be. My tickets are booked. In less than 24 hours, I will be on a plane--on several planes--to Manila, where my dad and step sister are in hospital for dengue fever. In my heart I know they will be fine. They've been diagnosed early and are in teh best of care. Still, a couple of hours ago, my dad had his first round of blood transfusions. His platelet count has been dropping faster than anticipated. And I've had to come to reality: for the moment, my place isn't here.

This concept is like being vacuumed out of the safest, warmest of places, a yoga womb of sorts and thrown out into the harsh light of day. I feel like a premature thing cast out of the yoga bubble before hitting my maturity date.

My heart is breaking a little. I don't want to leave. I feel undercooked. But all the same, I know that by leaving I am flowing with grace. Home is where the Universe is leading me, where my family needs me, where my father needs comfort. The values that we've been taught to honor is compelling me home. And though I hope to come back to Mysore after my family recovers and continue practice, there's no knowing what reality has in store.

bhakti, music & giving to a good cause

Another week in Mysore. Another week of opportunities for growth. And though I'm feeling wiped out enough to actually consider (aghast!) taking it easy, I wanted to share two worthy events going on this week--though I am sure there are more out there that I haven't heard of.

The first is yet another special Kirtan. Radha returns to Mysore for a limited time only and will be joined by friends James, Liz (harmonium) and Ganesh (tablas). The kirtan will be held this 4:30-7pm, Thursday, 26 January at Chakra House, 4th Main in Gokulam. Also on this day, Chakra House serves a special buffet lunch that starts at 3pm for those who want to sing with a fully nourished body.

Then on Friday, January 27, Odanadi is holding a Benefit Fundraiser from 3-6pm. The event features the renowned flutist Ravi Shanka Mishra and his band as well as a special cultural presentation by the girls of Odanadi, raffle drawing, henna tattoos and facility tours at the center. All proceeds go towards the building of a new boys' facility. Admission is Rs.500. Tickets can be bought at Santosha, Anokhi's and at the event itself.

Odanadi (www.odanadi.org) is a non-profit organization that rescues and rehabilitates children and women affected by human trafficking. The fundraiser will be held at their main center at 15/2B SRS Colony, Hootagally, Belavadi, Hunsur Road, Mysore. Contact Roland at 9738705686 for more information.

shiva, the destroyer

Summer in New York and practice at Broome Street Temple.
The Shiva alcove is around the corner.

A couple weeks ago a friend invited me to a puja at his home here in Mysore. When I arrived, he was already in full Vedic swing, chanting Sanskrit mantras adeptly as he made offerings to his soapstone Shiva Lingam. As he chanted away, I closed my eyes and settled into my half lotus. My mind drifted to last summer, when I was in New York, practicing at Broome Street Temple, Eddie Stern's studio in SOHO.

There's a little room there, dedicate to Shiva, where Shiva's lingam is also the center piece. An oil lamp was almost always lit. And the stone shone by wick light. I was particularly drawn to that part of the Temple. When I realized that people would sneak in there after their practice and meditate a little, I started to do the same, so long as the space was empty.

I remembered one moment particularly. I had just finished a sweet short meditation, deep after self practice. I must have been inspired, either that or completely insane--because what I did next was pretty much the equivalent of hurling myself off a New York City skyscraper without a parachute, no net below, no safety harness, nothing. Silently the words formed in my head and in my heart, "Shiva, destroy me." It was an act of faith and of total surrender. It was an act of insanity, as well.

First, I want to explain that ever since my first trip to Mysore in 2010, my life has been all about change. Some of it really extreme. I'd ended my commitments. I quit where I was living. And moved into storage. But I felt free and my heart, full. When I had uttered that prayer, I meant to invite more change, because I felt sure that more had to come--that whatever transformation had begun on that first trip had to continue. I wanted to graciously throw myself into the fire and be renewed.

Sometimes the vision we have of ourselves is not entirely clear, however. Sometimes, we have to take better care of our requests. I always forget what a keen listener the Universe can be. I always forget that divine forces may not have the time to dilly dally with details. I always forget that the Universe would probably appreciate specificity. Finally, I always forget to be compassionate with myself.

To summarize the summer after that request was, well...I could say things really shifted after that. Really, it was some seriously seismic shifts. The earth underneath me rumbled. My human building swayed, cracks appeared on the surface. My foundations were shaken. The tremors went on forever. And I think I'm still experiencing after shocks.

I don't mean to get all hocus-y pocus-y but I believe there is real power in prayer, real potency in intention. And now remembering that moment of self-offering, I can't help but think: no freakin wonder!

As hard as the daily asana practice is at the shala, it feels pretty light and easy compared to the aftermath of being shaken so completely. Though, I reckon, the practice is contributing to the "destruction," that it too is an agent of this extreme change.

Sometimes I have to really laugh at myself. I come here to go deeper. I mean to surrender but then end up struggling and fighting the winds of change that I have so eagerly invited. I doubt that I'm the only one hereabouts.

But the other day, as my friend did his puja to Shiva, I came to an understanding that I am the master of this movement in my life, that I have actually asked for it. So, I--more cautiously, this time--decided to recommit to my not so humble request, knowing full well that I'd been taken seriously. I added, however, "Please, Shiva, be gentle with me."

So, the good work continues in my yoga practice--both in the asana practice and in my life. I look forward to the renewal that comes with destruction, to the rebirth that comes with each metaphoric death, to rising like a phoenix from the ashes.

mysore magic, yoga at the source

Sunday, something feels off at the 7:30 led class. It seems a tad dim in the shala for that hour. I look up and see bed sheets hanging outside the windows on the grill. I note: another odd first. It all makes sense two and a half hours later, as we wait at conference (another one at 10am). A movie screen is erected on stage and a projector set up in the center of the shala.

"India has plenty of room," Sharath quips over the sea of students knee to knee at the shala. "India's mantra is adjustment. Wherever you go, you have to adjust, " he said as he was trying to manage the space (students just keep on coming!). Students are crowded in the lobby, finding it hard to squeeze in. Wise words from the Boss.

As an introduction, Sharath tells of how this was the fastest documentary made. He says how "these 3 (Alex Medin, Jim and Angie Kambeitz) have worked hard day and night" to make this film we are about to see. The film rolls and we see some of the Mysore Magic that, if you've ever been to Mysore to practice at the shala, we know so well.

After wards, Sharath invites director Alex Medin to speak. Alex explains how the film is "an act of love" and what "a great honor to be a part of this system."

The film started with a conversation between him and the couple, who were staying at Alex's house. The docu spontaneously grew from there. Within days they were filming in the shala and all around Msyore.

Angie also shares how she and Jim have been "so inspired by all of you." Jim, who is now home in North Dakota joins us via Skype and adds a "Namaste" from Angie's laptop.

Mysore Magic, Yoga at the Source can now be viewed ($4.99) or bought ($9.99)on the website below. Preview of the film is also available. Part of the proceeds will go to the Sri K. Pattabhi Jois Charitable Fund. The 22 minute documentary looks at the essence of what happens here in Mysore, and practicing at the shala particularly.

http://www.mysoremagicfilm.com/

packed, more and more students

It's been intense around here the last couple of weeks. Conferences have been packed since the New Year. Led classes are beyond tight. Last Friday, there were three on each side of the stage. Mats overlap everywhere. You're lucky to be practicing on the crease as a few simply choose to practice at home instead of the locker rooms. Even the second level of the Ladies' Locker room have even been occupied for the lack of mat space --from there Sharath's voice is all muffled. On a normal day, self-practice seems to flow too seamlessly into chanting, which is now at 11:55 shala time.

We come into chanting last week--at nearly mid-day, and the room is steamy. The glass of the windows are covered with beads of condensation--a.k.a. human sweat. The air is thick, even though all the windows are open. And it's hard to find a spot on the rug that isn't damp. I swear, even if I sound like it, I'm not complaining. It is what it is.

Whether its a glitch in the system or not, we're all here, trying to make the best of it. I know of at least one person who was asked to leave early and come back when the shala is less busy. It has been said (though not directly to me) that some students who have been here beyond the three month mark have been encouraged to go early. And I know of another who was greeted with much graciousness when she said she was leaving earlier than planned. Requests for extensions have been denied left and right. And I can't help but feel there was some exasperation in Sharath's voice (again, maybe I'm projecting here) as he noted that I was re-registering for my fourth month at the shala, "Not going?"

Though some people continue to leave after their 3 months or many just after the minimum 1 month, students keep on coming. Everyday, I note fresh faces wandering around Gokulam. There seems to be no end to it. The latest start times are rumored to be between 10-10:30am.

At the height of the sudden upsurge of the newly arrived, the website was updated stating that there was a new 3 month maximum study at the shala, along with the announcement of the shala's reopening on July 1, 2012. Boom, just like that, times are a changing.

It's may only be my second visit to Mysore, but already I miss quieter times. In 2010, late October was a sweet time to come. The shala had been opened a month or two before; I came in with a 6:30 start time. October 2011 was definitely more packed. Start times by the end of the month was at 9am.

We are witnessing the changing times here at the shala. As ashtanga grows throughout the world, as Mysore programs are being built up and more and more qualified teachers spread the lineage, the students inspired enough to come multiply. I know I am a part of that swelling wave of this yoga practice, which continues to expand and extend, growing a culture of people who are better attuned to their body and to their higher natures. And that, despite the change in pace and ease in these parts, the nuisance of packed rooms and stressful gate stampedes (which are still really tame, by any standards), is still good news for everyone.