Posted by chai on November 29th, 2009 in yoga
When I thought about “happily ever after” and what that could possibly mean (usually what kind of disappointment I was setting myself up for), one thing that I didn’t consider was it meant getting older. For some reason, once I finally “settled down” I didn’t picture myself as … well old.
It occurred to me when my Mother-In-Law over Thanksgiving noted that since breaking her foot she’s unable to achieve the same range of motion. She sighed and said acceptingly, “it’s OK, I’m getting older and my body just can’t do some of the same things it use to.” And I thought to myself, “she’s right it really IS ok”, it’s unreasonable to expect that as we age we’ll be able to do the same things. Yet this is exactly what I had hoped for.
It seems women all around me are struggling with changes. Whether the change is menopause, struggling to have babies, struggling to recover from babies, and I (thinking I was helping them) fight their struggles. I subconsciously targeted my research on how these women (and vicariously myself) could go back to the way they were before all of these changes. How to get your body back with yoga and diet after having a baby, how to use yoga (and diet) to maintain your physique after and during menopause, how to reduce wrinkles and stretch marks etc,.. I had bought into society’s silent judgement that only youthful looking women were desirable. Indoctrinated by years of TV and Hollywood, where the heroine is never middle-aged, or unattractive. And if by some chance a middle aged women, with an ungirlish body did make it to the big screen she was almost immediately killed off, or relegated a minor role not unlike a wise “witch doctor” (read “Lost”). I’ve been equipping myself to not be perceived as a witch doctor.
Yet these past years have also been the happiest in my life, and I hope that if I’m half as lucky as my mother (or mother-in-law) they’re only going to get better. So while I may have gained some inches, I also shed a horrible sense of style, and a waddle-like stride I still can’t completely get rid of, and most importantly more years means more time living happily ever after.
Posted by chai on November 17th, 2009 in yoga
The first time I encountered David’s Multi-Intenso class it was at Kula Yoga. And as you may recall I’ve had some mixed experiences with Kula Yoga, so not surprisingly I had a mixed reaction to David’s multi-intenso. It was unlike any yoga class I had experienced. There was little warm up, and not much explanation in getting into the poses, and we got into some very serious poses, like handstands (instead of downdogs) during sun salutations, etc,.. And while I was intimidated just that he offered it, it was even more overwhelming to see that nearly everyone in the class took him up on his offer. So there I was the lone non-handstander in a room so crowded our mats were touching, and so hot I could see the steam rise off of my neighbor’s shoulders.
Eventually, I was so out-paced my spirit didn’t try to keep up anymore, I did the motions (I could) half-heartedly. Panting my way through it, I finally understood all those reviews I had read that Kula (one of the only studios) offered *truly* advanced classes. I had been to two prior and while they were also intense, I wasn’t writing home about them. So it with much interest when my friend Desmond (who had taken the class with me) noticed that the same teacher was teaching in Shala, but this class was labelled intermediate / advanced. We wondered how he would modify it to make it accessible to intermediates, and would it be the same format? As in sanskrit and description light, but body-warpingly challenging.
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Posted by chai on November 8th, 2009 in reviews, yoga
A couple days ago I wrote about the Shala calling its classes good but “not that challenging”. That may have been a pre-mature assessment given I hadn’t had Kelly Morris’ class. Apparently her classes were so good, she could summon the winds of changed opinions with one namaste. True story.
Forces conspired against me to make it to her class, between last minute changes at work and subway delays I knew I was going to just make it. My heart sank as I saw the line to get in was creeping down the stairs and I was the last one on it. A few more trickled in after, but that was of little comfort as seemingly everyone in line behind me had a friend who was already signed (or in line ahead of me). They silently slinked up the line ahead of me (though we all knew they just arrived), and whispered to their friend, who made room for them. Others circumvented us in more indirect methods, they got their already signed in friends to “put down” a mat for them, or sometimes the friends themselves offered to find them a spot and they accepted. I wondered what had happened to their basic manners, a line is there for a reason and you can choose to disrespect those reasons, but don’t pretend like it’s OK just because your friend says so.
By the time I did manage to get into class it was all I could think about. Yogis who noisily leave during svasana, who leave their cell phones on during svasana, who drip sweat onto your mat (when they could just re-angle themselves) because they just need the to get into Astavrakasana at that moment. The noise in my mind escalated to a deafening crescendo. And then she spoke. She commanded silence, and without resistance we gave it.
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Posted by chai on November 7th, 2009 in reviews
After seeing an impressive presentation on acupuncture during our honeymoon, we were excited to come back to the city and find some quality treatments. Tidbits of research and testimonials had acupuncture curing everything from cramps to cancer. Then after witnessing the extent of my husband’s (rare) but severe migraine and hearing acupuncture was particularly effective against it, I booked an appointment at the Pacific College of Oriental Medicine. From the glowing reviews on yelp and figuring we’d only go for basic treatments I didn’t see much of a risk.
I had a very good experience. My therapist (Anna) was not only an acupuncturist she was also a yoga teacher, it couldn’t get much more serendipitous. She and her assistant seemed warm and welcoming, and happily answered all my questions and put me at ease. Over time we developed a friendly relationship wherein I looked forward to seeing her every week. My treatments seemed to be working, my husband stopped complaining of the night-time teeth grind, and despite the volatile market place I was feeling more balanced.
My husband on the other hand couldn’t have had a more different experience. His therapist wasn’t very communicative or informative of the treatments, and whereas I was sleeping peacefully in a private room he was shuffled between communal areas and private rooms. One evening he looked particularly disturbed, and I discovered it was because his therapist (without warning or asking) punctured him through his (non-sanitized) t-shirt. My eyes widened in you-could-be-infected horror. We reported the incident to the director of the program, was assured that this was common practice though the therapist should have warned him (or asked), and the next session they’d ensure he’d get a more experienced practitioner who would not be so cavalier about hygiene.
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