Off the Mat

matMy teacher slyly told us, that as long as we practice yoga, it’s teachings “get in there”. I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. Did she mean the guilt, that I don’t do more volunteer work, or that I’m often judgmental and snippy and I should know better. I figured all of the above.

But I think she meant a lot more than just the slow re-adjustment in attitude that happened so gradually for me, it was a shock. One day, I couldn’t deny it, I was morphing into the dreaded “granola girl”, the smelly hippie. I would soon be “one of those oddities” people like my friends wrinkle their noses at. We’ve all seen them, vegans who somehow always find a convenient guitar in a park and/or campsite and sing about mother earth.  But here I am, trying to eat less red meat, looking at labels, whining to my husband about organic food, and that we *really* need to go miles out of our way, to spend more money and get less food at WholeFoods. I am a truly blessed that he relented (under the condition we never buy anything NOT on sale).
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NYC does Yoga

yoga-journal-nycI like many other yoginis am an avid subscriber to the Yoga Jornal. I eagerly await my copy every 6 weeks or so, and take it everywhere with me, trying to integrate its’s pearls of wisdom. Which is why was ecastatic to attend thier yoga conference in my home away from home, NYC. So eager, that even though I couldn’t afford it’s hefty price tag ($225 and up), I decided to sign up for one day of the main conference, and a kirtan session by Krishna Das.  I figured that, it was an investment in my practice, an opportunity to learn from some of the most inspiring yoga teachers of my time, and I could offset the cost by taking a number of thier free events , lightening the load on our economically strained wallets.

The minute I entered the conference I was struck by how similar in look and feel it was to the dance conferences I foggily remembered from my youth. Crowds of (mostly) women clustering in various forms of dance-like attire, many toting conference bags. Except for the uniquitous sigg-like water bottles, I would’ve sworn I had somehow managed to fold space and warped back to 1986 reliving the Tremain Dance Conventions. They even had a similar “market place”, where sponsors could hawk thier goods, I half expected to find a Capezio booth.  Thankfully there wasn’t a Capezio in sight, reminding me that while those conference were scaring memories ,  this was yoga, a healing balm to my post-wedding-jitters. 

My first class was with Shiva Rea, Rasa: the Yoga of Liberating Love. It was described as  ” a liberating backbending vinyasa flow, meditation and vizualization to liberate our natural healing alchemy of love”, a bit beyond my mortal understanding, but it sounded like just enough movement with just enough thought to get me back into the practice I had neglected for well over a month in favor of the wedding whirlwind.While,  I over estimated what my back was capable of bending into, I hadn’t under estimated how liberating the class would be to my stiff limbs. my undisciplined mind, or how refreshing it is to come back to your practice.

My next class was with Cyndi Lee , “How to Teach Any Pose to Any Body”, described as “…complicated poses and deconstruct them using consistent yoga principles … “.  I thought this would be a good opportunity to enhance my education, and although I wasn’t excited about my trial classes at Om, I was impressed with their thoughtfulness. I hadn’t expected to be so moved by her, or her teachings, but I was. I thought that by now she’d be tired of the constant tour, the redundancy of some of the materials, but she wasn’t. She was authentic, fresh and fully engaged.  Even her assistants’ adjustments were customized, catered towards your need at hand, rather than a mechanical adjustment.  She taught keen observation, and close attention, warming the class with gentle movements that naturally developed thier complexity.

My last class was with Gary Kraftsow Exploring the Chakras for Emotional Health”.  I decided to take a lecture based class, as the Community Class by Ashley Turner “Inner Power: Flow from Grace”, had exhausted me. I’m not sure about the inner power, but I was sure I had lost all grace in that class. My body wouldn’t hear of another asana, and besides my mind was starved of the philosphy and knowledge of yoga. I have badly neglected my education outside of asanas. Gary’s class and knowlege were profound. Trying to learn all the things he was teaching us was a lot like trying to drink from a fire hydrant. It was impossible to drink, but the power of it somehow cleanses and reinvigorates you. I suspect he had a lot more to share, and was a little disappointed the class was so short. Though it’ was hard to tell, as I’m not sure he was all together engaged , sometimes it seemed he was speaking somewhere else, and he didn’t hide that he had given this talk so many times the students and places were blurring together. But the richness of his insights, makes the two hours you spend with him fly by fast, leaving you with just enough grains of wisdom to go home and chew on.

After the dizzying pace of April, the subdued, honeymoon imbued May, This conference was a warm  (if pricey) welcome back party.  Just enough education to re-ignite my learning, and just enough movement to make my blood  and breath flow.

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Tense Teeth

Long before I discovered yoga I thought I had mastered tension and stress, usually with a dose of caffiene and niccotine. I’ve since found ways to combat it without resorting to poison — at least most of the time. But I still believed that I knew how to deal with stress better than most people. Sure, I had tightness, and certainly yoga helped me deal with stress EVEN BETTER then before, but I started off in pretty good condition. I got a glimmer that something was wrong with this belief about 5 years ago when my then (expensive) dentist said some kind of trauma had happened to my tooth that caused a chip. I told her that I didn’t recall a trauma. She stared at me as if I had to be joking. I wasn’t.

Then my finance started to worry about my teeth grinding at night , it was so severe he was certain there was damage. I started to worry too. When my (current) dentist confirmed that my teeth grinding had caused another chip in my molar and further wear in other molars, I got that raspy panicky feeling. I don’t even know how to grind my teeth when I’m awake, HOW could I be grinding in my sleep? And then I remembered my dreams, dreams of me actually EATING teeth, obviously it wasn’t a dream. I was chipping my own teeth in my sleep, but even that failed to wake me. Heavy sleeper.

In one of those fateful made-for-TV-moments in my next class my yoga instructor reminded us class, that people generally keep tension in their body. For women its often the hips, tightness, and clenching. I’ve witnessed several times when people discover their bodies “opening”, and burst into sudden tears, as if years of frustration was finally released. I’ve heard of similar cases in massage sessions. Toxins release, and a sense of liberation overtakes the client. I secretly envied this. Where was my tension? I thought perhaps I didn’t have any tension pent up, that I had somehow through my own brilliance managed to dispel of all the tension in my body. I was just that good.
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Cooties

Having finally made the decision to not pursue a 300hr certification, I’ve set about this year to take more workshops and expand my education on a more buffet style basis. I’ve long considered taking classes at New York’s Open Center, once in awhile I even scope out a catalog and highlighted some interesting classes, that I never managed to make. Not so this year. I pro-actively marked in my calendar all of the workshops and certifications I was interested in pursuing. The first one was “Introduction to Swedish Massage”, a real winner for me since I am the worlds most avid connoisseur.

I couldn’t wait to start. I registered early, and had all of my materials packed and ready. I arrived a couple minutes late to class - and so was forced to do the scooby-doo entrance. I found a seat, and began to take notes, in that breathless, and bothered having run there kind of way. The teacher was demoing the basic strokes. I noticed how she had a remarkably soothing voice, and how well she described the motions, it reminded a lot of yoga. And then she uttered the most unexpectedly dreaded words, “find yourself a partner”. The floor fell, and I panicked. So that was why we were instructed to bring a bed sheet, massage oil, and a towel. OF COURSE ! How did I not connect the dots?
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