Keep on keeping on.

At the moment I am going through a period of adjustment. Having been given a couple of new asanas in the past six months (kurmasa/supta kurmasana and most recently garbha pindasana) I am noticing some patterns in the way I react with a new posture - so maybe it will be ever thus...

First stage is of course excitement. Yippeeee!! I got the next one!! Pride in my own achievement is characterised by being unable to tell my shala-mates about it after practice (them: "how was your practice today?" me: "oh yes, fine...") as I feel like a total div jumping up and down and saying GUESS WHAT?!! even if that's how I feel. It works best when one of your friends happens to see it happening, and that way you don't need to brag. So yes, day 1 is definitely characterised by elation. This also manifests in the desire to tell my work colleagues all about it - point 1: they don't understand what it all means and why being given a new asana is so exciting and point 2: they really couldn't care less.

The next stage seems to follow very quickly afterwards and is somewhere between shock and bewilderment. Hang on, I start to realise, you mean I have to do this every day now? And after today I'm not going to have my teacher hold my hand and guide me though it? And it probably means I need to start getting up earlier? I'm sorry, can somebody remind me why exactly I wanted this day to come? Day 2 with garbha was where I  gave myself ginormous bruises which I saw fit to photograph and post on facebook (see part 1: the desire to tell people who don't care). 

Simultaneously occurring in the world outside of my practice is the continued need to talk to people who don't care (namely the long suffering work colleagues), preferably including showing them pictures/videos (against their will) whilst explaining to them how very incredibly difficult this asana is. I'm not sure what I want - a medal?

The next thing that happens is I begin to convince myself that this asana is actually both dangerous and bad for me, and that I am giving myself serious injuries by attempting it. With supta kurmasana I had a very painful injury in my collar bone from being adjusted which did mean I had to completely back off the pose for a good few weeks on more than one occasion. With garba I am now experiencing pain in my bones - mainly in my forearms, and also in my hands. I find it impossible to turn my hands to lift up into kukkutasana and any attempts feel likely to break my arms (yes, I am a drama queen).

This is where I have got to with garbha pindasana - after the elation, the posting on facebook and telling colleagues about my new asana, the slight bewilderment and disbelief that I had to keep trying this and the fear of the injury came actual declarations of hatred. I walked out of the practice room a few days after being given it and C said to me "Meeeel, it's getting better every day" and before she could finish I answered "No it's not, it's terrible - and I HATE IT!" Haha. Drama queens are us (and notice how I know best...). I told her that after I had wrestled my arms through and sat for 5 breaths, I took my fingers to my forehead and preparing to rock back I just cried instead. "Crying is GOOD, it's going to make it so much better!" says C but I'm not entirely convinced. I started to analyse it and decided that my problem with the rocking is that I feel STUPID. I rock all the way back onto my head (which is too far, I lose contact between my hands and my forehead) then struggle to right myself. In short, I feel like some sort of beached whale. Who can't even rock in a circle (I'm doing on the spot - rocking for beginners). Anyway after my psychoanalysis I decided to tell myself that it doesn't matter if I feel like I look silly, probably nobody else thinks that I do (a good lesson for life too of course) and that I just need to keep on trying. And trying, and trying, and trying. 

And of course this is the key - practice, practice, all is coming (I think the big man may have been onto something with this). I fully remember not so long ago feeling like supta kurmasana has completely flummoxed me, that I would never in a million years be able to do it without serious effort and assistance, but over time something changed, or more correctly lots of somethings changed, ever so gradually, and a little piece more of the puzzle fell into place each week until I can now (somedays) bind my hands by myself. And I just need to remember that there is no quick fix, that I just have to keep going with garbha pindasana, and slowly but surely one day the pieces will fall into place and I will be able to practice it with more ease.

Of course it is the same with life – in some respects I think you often only get given what you can handle. Changes which seem huge and overwhelming more often than not happen in stages so that from A to Z might be a huge change, but from X to Y to Z is oh so much more gradual. I was talking with an old friend of mine a while ago about the idea of me leaving London – I always said that London wasn’t my forever home, but as I have now reached the 10 year mark living here it seems like it would be more of a wrench to leave. But as my friend so wisely pointed out, I’d be unlikely to just up sticks one day. More likely is that a series of life changes, whether that’s related to work, or a partner, or something else entirely, would evolve over time so that leaving London became the natural next step.

And it’s the same with ashtanga - if you went suddenly from doing nothing to doing the full primary series 6 days a week with dropbacks & all the whistles and bells, it would be completely overwhelming (not to mention crazy). Instead, with the guidance of a teacher you learn at a pace which suits you, and as and when you are ready you learn a little more. And for me, I gradually added another day to my practice week, one day at a time, to build what is (hopefully) a sustainable practice.

But as I work through the stages with my new asana, and I currently reside in the "am I ever going to get this??" stage of bamboozlement, I just need to remind myself how impossible all that came before seemed at first (including - to begin with - having a morning practice at all) and just keep practicing with the faith and belief that it will come...it just takes time. And there endeth the sermon...Amen :)

Twice in a week...

Today was the big challenge. Get myself to a mysore class, and then go to work afterwards - something I haven't done for about 5 months. I planned it with military precision, trying to work out exactly what time I needed to start and finish my practice to make sure I got to work on time, how long it would take me to get from home to the shala, and then afterwards from the shala to work, and of course what time I would need to get up. As I didn't get on with the shower on my first trip to YP I decided to allow enough time to take a shower and wash my hair before I went, so worked out I needed to set my alarm for 5.20am to make sure I was ready to start my practice with the opening chant at 6.30.

So I got up and out of the house, that was fine, though I somehow managed to miss the chant by a few minutes - I was there when they did it, but I was still in the changing room. So it was fine, I started my practice with a quiet moment on my mat, at AYL I would always do the chant quietly on my own but it didn't seem right when I'd only just missed it. As an aside, I used to worry that it was annoying to other people that I did that, as not many other people did - but today when I was almost finished a girl arrived and unrolled her mat in front of me, and quietly but audibly started "vande gurunam..." and it was so lovely to hear!! How could anybody be annoyed by it? A good lesson for me to realise.

I was surprised by how busy the room was, we were pretty packed in (much busier than Sunday), but still Cary was darting around the room, and I got more adjustments than I am used to getting (even the micro ones she does on her way past)  though not as many as on Sunday. I forgot until just now but when I was approaching the shala this morning in the dark, I happened to look up and saw her silhouette through the frosted glass giving an adjustent and it really made me smile. Anyway despite her busy-ness I am really conscious of her grace. It might just be that I'm recognising what Karen was writing about last week, but I can't help but notice the way she seems to have everyones's back, even though there are so many people there, and also the way she moves around the room - almost like it's a dance. But slight as she may be, my God her adjustments are strong! No correction to the length of my downdog today (I think I've got that now - I can't believe how different it feels) but the usual push into it, a few tweaks in the tirikonasana sequence (including standing on my back foot in the revolved version, I always seem to get that!) and then on to UHP.

I wonder if I am alone in finding in next to impossible to balance in this posture by myself - even after all of these months. Cary was waiting for me to take my foot in the first place before she stepped in, and on the left side it took me about three tries just to balance.

Naturally I think my leg reaches about the angle of this picture: i.e. not all that high! (picture credit here) I am used to having a teacher take your leg up higher, and the main teacher at AYL might take it up on her shoulder whereas the assistants would hold your leg on their arm (no doubt concerned about being too strong).

But what does Cary do? Well it feels more like this:

picture credit here

Oh - except that my standing foot isn't allowed to turn out as it does in this picture. And Cary would be in the picture too, lifting my leg whilst simultaneously correcting the grip on my toe, pushing me down onto my raised leg, turning my knee in and making sure my foot wasn't rolling out, holding onto my shoulder to stop me falling, pushing my chest up at the end...! At least there was no standing leg straightening today (I tried to keep it straight, really I did, but it does feel like the only thing keeping me upright). Although this is how it feels, I'm sure my leg is actually nothing like as high as this, but I think the assist in this pose is what gave me such agonisingly sore glutes after Sunday's practice. No adjustments in pachimottanasana today which I was almost grateful for (actually maybe it was that which hurt so badly afterwards) and at least I didn't forget the sequence at the beginning of seated this time! The shala was really filling up by this stage so there was a bit of shuffling about of mats, but everyone seemed to have enough space. And then I got a bit distracted when a girl rolled her mat out in front of me into what looked like not a space at all, she was clearly unsure whether it was OK and looked to Cary for reassurance, and as she turned around I saw that she was the little sister of a boy in my class at Primary school - she was also at my secondary school, but about four years below me. Quite a weird coincidence as I didn't grow up in London, plus I think mysore classes are quite niche really, and then to practice in the same shala, and to happen to appear in front of me - I have no idea how many other people were in the room, and if she'd have been anwhere else I wouldn't even have seen her.

Anyway aside from my distraction (it didn't help that she has a dancer's physique and a very acomplished practice!!) I continued through my practice and only got adjusted in Marichyasana A - again, a very strong one which made me want to squeal as C pushed my body down to my leg, telling me to take the chin to the shin put pushing still deeper even once it had hit my leg.Then although she was stood behind me in D and I struggled to bind, I managed it again on both sides (just) without any help. I still prefer the adjusted bind, but of course it is good to know I don't need it!

From Mari D I ploughed straight into Bhujapidasana, attempting it twice before I realised I'd missed out navasana AGAIN!! Funny how I am rushing to the pose I am struggling with rather that avoiding it...I wonder what that says about me. Anyway I remembered in time, so went back through vinyasa and into navsana, where C's assistant came over and told me to come up out of my lower back which I did and immediately had to bend my knees. I did think that I'd probably been leaning back to far to get my legs up & straight but nobody ever picked up on it before. So then it was my third attempt at the bloody bhuja...actually I'm wondering if anybody can help me with this because I just DON'T GET IT! I jump round my arms from downdog, and on the last few attempts I can now gingerly cross my feet and lift them (though it takes massive effort) and then I just hang there, stuck! I have been taught to take my forehead to the floor as a beginner's modification - but in doing this, my feet are back on the floor. When I am balancing on my arms, attempting to move my head towards the floor feels far too scary as I am sure I am going to crash-land, so I end up crashlanding onto my backside instead (which is a much softer landing I can assure you). So having crashed down I'm never really sure what to do, whether I try again, or if I can give up and stop at that point (having already tried twice pre-navasana, today I stopped). Any tips will be gratefully received!

Once again today I did my tippy-toes non-headstand, and again nobody noticed, but I can't work out if I am actually just attention-seeking in doing this. Either way, there's no way I can do an unsupported headtstand in the middle of the room so I supose I'll stick with it until I get asked about it (surely I won't get away with it again!). I made sure I took a really long savasana as I know that's the difference between feeling exhausted or refuelled at the end of the practice, and then went off to shower and get ready for work. Timing-wise I couldn't believe how it worked out, I arrived at the tube station 45 minutes early for work, which given my usual timekeeping, was about an hour earlier than normal! So the good news is the 5.20 alarm might not need to be a regular thing. I am slightly worried that it had to be such a carefully planned operation to get me to a morning class though, it makes me wonder how I am ever going to ramp up my practice from once or twice a week, but I suppose I need to just work on getting there first, and worry about the frequency later. I was pretty knackered at work today too, though initially I think I was mainly feeling the effects  of eating sugary breakfast cereal at my desk rather than some good wholesome porridge I'd normally have at home. Weirdly though I did feel like from my hips down I was zinging with energy, but my back and upper body generally just felt destroyed. But I suppose I have done the hardest bit now, I have established that I can get to a morning class and then get to work, both logistically and pyhsically, so now there are no excuses!

99% Theory, 1% practice...

No, I know that's the wrong way round, it's just that lately my yoga practice has been a little more this way around. Lots of reading, lots of thinking and talking about asana, but no actual doing. Despite the optimism of my last post I have been finding it a struggle to have any sort of regular practice for about the last two months (at least).

But today I went to my first Mysore class in a month. Now I'm not saying that's it, that's the end of my struggle, but at least it's a step in the right direction. And the reason I took the step today? Yesterday morning I woke up and felt like everything was wrong. Wrong daily routine, wrong city, wrong job, wrong life. And I couldn't shake off the feeling which got worse as the day went on and culminated in tears when on my way home from work the driver of a nearly empty bus refused to open the doors for me. And then I knew that the only thing I could do to make any of this better right now was to go to the shala the next chance I had - which turned out to be tonight.

So everyday, my alarm goes off around 6am for me to get up and do a home practice, but instead I lie in bed getting cross with myself, eventually get up just before 7, roll out my mat and manage a couple of stretches in my pyjamas before I have to get in the shower. Then I take too long to get ready for work, end up in a panic and leave the house knowing I will be late, rush to the station for the commute to the office, arrive hot & bothered and ten minutes late (always, every day, ten minutes - so why can't I fix it?), spend the day trying to avoid the fact that I am doing a job I really really don't love in an industry run in a way I am morally opposed to, spend half the day reading yoga blogs and then feel guilty and end up working late to make up for it, make the hour-long journey back on packed trains, get home exhausted, make dinner, go to bed and start the whole thing over again. So where in all of this can I manage a 6 times a week Mysore practice? Until my current blip I was going to AYL after work to practice with R, I tried for twice a week but it was normally only once (I am in a choir who meet on Monday nights, Tuesday night she has one of her assistants cover and Friday there's no evening session) and then the remaining days I would do something at home in the morning. Never my full practice, but always something. Then it's all gone off the rails, and having not been to AYL for so long, I have got swept away with the idea of moving to YP (where so many of my favourite bloggers go) as it is the East London place anyway, and I could go in the mornings and have a shower before work (no showers at AYL makes it an impossibility for me if I need to look even half way respectable after practice). The cost puts me off, as I know I wouldn't make it there 5 days a week which makes it an expensive option, but I just feel like the evening thing isn't working for me, I'm not building much of a relationship with my teacher, I'm not progressing (I know, it's not the point - but still, I want it!!). Anyway having all but made up my mind, I went back to R tonight and she was lovely. My card had expired with 1 class unused so I went with the cash to pay as a drop in. I'd not had a reply to the email I sent her asking about extending the pass a few days, she said she had replied, and insisted that I didn't have to pay which was so kind of her (I fully expected to pay as it expired 10 days ago).

My practice in itself was OK, it felt very physical which I suppose is only natural given that I was trying my hardest not to injure my shoulders (I have been seeing an osteopath for the past month as I keep getting neck and shoulder problems). So I suppose being hyper-aware of my shoulders was only natural tonight, but there were a few other things too, all gained from the blogs I have been reading! I forget where I read it, but somebody wrote about realising her toes didn't all connect with the floor in chaturanga (which mine have NEVER done) so tonight I worked on that, as well as keeping my arms at right angles to the ground (or do I mean shoulders?) which again I hadn't been aware of before until YogaSweetie on twitter gave me the tip. Then there was the awareness in forward bends that my back was curved (thanks to Grimmly's poll) and I remembered somebody's comment to ensure the forward bend started from the hip, so I tried this and again it was the first time I'd had that focus. So while I'm slightly bemoaning the fact that my mind was very much awake and my practice never had that ethereal, dreamy quality tonight, I suppose it's all part of the process to sometimes be more focused on the body (especially after an injury).

The good thing was that I don't seem to have lost too much of my flexibility over the past two months. It didn't bode well when the wrist bind became a fingertip bind even after an assist in Paschimittanasana A, but other than the tighter than normal hamstrings things were pretty much as normal. I was stepping instead of jumping-back tonight for fear of hurting my neck, although I did do one during my Suryas just to try it and actually had the lightest jumpback I've ever managed (for some reason I never do them at home, only at the shala - I'm paranoid about hurting myself as it seems such a tremendous effort). And when I got to Marichyasana A I felt really sick, but the twists felt good at the same time. I had the usual assists in downdog, UHP, and the paschimosquish and when I got to Mari D, I thought about trying to bind by myself, but just looked round to see R smiling at me from the other side of the room. She laughed as she came over, saying she thought maybe I was going to make it on my own (pre-blip I could bind on the right on a good day and very ocassionally on the left) and then gave me her fabulous arm-stretching twistifying assist - it's almost not worth being able to do it yourself, she does such a great job. Then navasana which weirdly was stronger than ever before, into my very dodgy bujapindasana (my feet will NOT come off the floor!) but instead of collapsing in a heap tonight I at least managed to come out of it into an arm-balance of sorts, and I was finished! Just backbends left, and after all of the dropback progress I've been reading about in the cyber shala I realised I need to actually start pushing up into proper backbends rather than just the lazy little bridges, so two out of three ain't bad and I was ready for finishing.

Coming home from the shala I didn't feel in my usual dreamy state, but I felt fine, and so glad I had conquered the fear of going back after such a long break from practice. Now I am just all confused as to what to do as I was resolute that the evening practice doesn't work, and I need to start going to morning Mysore classes, but I do love R and would hate to feel I had chosen another teacher over her. Anyway this was meant to be a short post so that I got to bed early (somehow I never manage to write short ones) so I'd better leave the pondering for another day.

Beginning Ashtanga yoga: a testimonial to my teachers.

I was recently asked by my first ashtanga teachers, Jeff and Harmony Lichty, to write a testimonial for them as they have recently ceased to be travelling yogis and are settling in a new city. They gave a list of suggested topics to cover, but as soon as I began to write I realised I was telling a story much too long to be used in a portfolio of satisfied student comments. Rather than curtail myself, I will write the story here, send them a few paragraphs as they have asked for, along with the link to this blog.

I arrived at Purple Valley in Goa this February aged 30; terrified at what stood before me, exhausted, and psychologically battered and bruised after losing both my dream job and boyfriend in the space of a few months. I had booked the trip on impulse and it was quite out of character for me - I always used to say I'd never go to India even if you paid me, but when I googled "yoga holidays" I stumbled across Jeff & Harmony's course in Goa and I just knew I had to go. At that time I was taking yoga classes at my gym, one or twice a week, and as far as I was concerned one of them was ashtanga (actually, both were hatha). A week before I was due to leave London for India, I re-read the course description and noticed that it mentioned Mysore style self-practice, which I dutifully googled. At that point I went into blind panic realising I had no idea what I had let myself in for and deciding that the pictures I found of rooms full of people, each in different postures and bathed in sweat, looked like they were quite mad.

As a complete beginner to the ashtanga primary series, and to self practice, I attended beginners classes with Jeff and Harmony held after the pros (as I thought of them) had completed their two hour self-practice kicking off at 6am. Grateful for the extra sleep, I trotted off to the shala at 8am to be put through my paces, and day one was a piece of cake - sun salutations, so far so familiar. Afternoon classes focusing on the philosophy of ashtanga yoga soon had my hitting a brick wall almost straight away. The idea of this practice, as explained by Jeff, was to become an independent practitioner - cue spontaneous tears from me and the voice in my head saying "not you, this doesn't work with your lifestyle, you'll never do it". Every time that phrase was mentioned over the next few days, I got a huge lump in the back of my throat, and found myself facing huge doubts and questions as to how this would all fit into my busy life in London that involved two hours commuting a day. A DVD we were shown one evening in the first week, "Ashtanga NY" (which I now own a copy of - and I love) pushed me further into doubt. "This practice of ashtanga yoga," said one of the yoginis on film, "You can't flirt with it". Surely that was what I was doing here? I couldn't possibly see how I could get up 6 times a week to get to a shala and start practicing at 6am, and nor did I want to, in all honesty. I questioned whether I was going to be able to "stick to" ashtanga when I got back to London. Usually I found it hard enough getting out of bed in time to get to work for 9.30 every day, and my evenings were pretty full too, so I just didn't see how I would find space for this in my life.

Meanwhile, as doubts raged inside my head, the first week's classes progressed. Jeff and Harmony gently led us beginners through the Suryanamaskar A and B, the fundamental asanas, and the beginning of the standing postures - leading at first, then inviting us to begin again on our own so that we were learning the sequence. Really, that was probably tougher than going straight into self practice as we were doing everything twice (at least - I never again forgot prasarita padottansana C after Jeff made me go back to the beginning when I missed it!) but before we knew it, the sequence was coming to us all naturally. And in the second week, I started to move from thinking "I can never do this" to "where in London can I do this?", and all the while, my practice was coming along with the teaching and support of Jeff and Harmony.
The combination of Jeff's anatomical knowledge (from many years spent as a paramedic) with his humour and light-hearted eloquence, and Harmony's utterly beautiful and seemingly effortless demonstrations, in-depth knowledge and beautiful chants - plus of course their dynamic as a couple - made them the most incredible teachers. Of course the beautiful setting in Goa no doubt helped, as did the wonderful people on the retreat with me and copious amounts of amazing vegetarian food (supplemented with almost daily trips to the local German bakery for coffees and cakes with my fellow yogis) but I began to realise that I was starting to heal. My heartbreak, which I had feared would overwhelm me when I was given endless space to navel-gaze, seemed to be receding and taking more of a back seat. The endless and in-depth conversations with like-minded people made me feel supported and contented, and calm in a way I couldn't remember ever feeling before. To sit around drinking camomile tea and telling stories about 18th birthday presents for dogs was the greatest joy; there was no need for alcohol, bedtime was at 9pm when I would climb the stairs in Ganesh house and chat with my Finnish room-mate from our beds before going to sleep at 10. I think I laughed more in the two weeks I was in Goa than I could remember doing for years, all without the need for drink, and all with people I would never have met under normal circumstances.

As the time went on, our beginners class grew smaller in size as people were taken aside and told they could "move up" to the Mysore class. I got my call on the last possible day, Thursday of the second week, so I experienced one self practice session in India before reverting to a led half primary class on the final day with the full group. It was incredible to think how far I had come in just two weeks, but of course a lot of my focus was on what I couldn't do rather than what I could. My arms wouldn't support me in chaturanga, I could only just reach my toes with straight legs in paschimottanasana A let alone grab the sides of my feet for B - but I kept remembering what Jeff had been saying - you can't think about your practice in terms of days or weeks, not even in months and years, but rather in years and decades. I wasn't sure where I stood on that, but his description of a forward bend progressing by a millimetre a week and that becoming 5cm in a year (surely enough to bind around my feet) helped my mind back onto the right path.

And our final workshop session entitled "Where to now?" helped to clarify things a lot. My scribbled notes from that session included the following:

- Try to use this as a kick start to integrating yoga into your daily life rather than taking two classes a week (was he just talking to me I wondered?

- The next step might seem hard to take but it needn't be; just get on your mat every day with some sincerity.

- It doesn't have to be the same, or better, or more every day - just do what you can on any given day.

And really these three statements summed up what I took away from the retreat. Actually the real teaching from Jeff and Harmony could be summed up in four words: Get on your mat. Whatever the question, this was the answer they gave: get on your mat with some sincerity, and it will come. As Guruji said, "Practice, practice, all is coming".

I arrived back in London with an unreal sense of calm. Returning to an uncertain future and the possibility of losing my temporary job, all I could do was shrug my shoulders and say "If it's meant to be...". A close friend later told me I was a space cadet when I came home, but I like to think people closest to me may have just been confused by my state of calm as it was so different to how they'd seen me before, certainly in recent months. Gone was the panic about what I was going to do next, gone was the crippling procrastination, gone was the desire to spend every evening in front of mindless television. Also gone were the desires to eat meat and drink alcohol and the inability to get up early. I had undergone a wholesale change in the short space of two weeks, and I have no doubt that this was due in great part to the wonder of my teachers in Goa. Every day when I get on my mat I express gratitude to you both, and for this practice and the changes it has brought in my life.

Wherever I go, whoever I study with, however many miles and years separate us, you will always be my teachers. With all of the sincerity I can muster, from the bottom of my heart, Jeff and Harmony, I thank you.

As a footnote, if you are lucky enough to live and practice in Victoria in Canada, then please look them up. You'll be glad you did.

http://www.ashtanga-yoga-victoria.com/index.html