Heart Full

Jivamukti, the near legendary yoga studio that practically started it all. Some people might point to California as the birth place of Vinyasa, the yoga syle that would come to dominate the American yoga-scape, even still its influence is undeniable.

On top of all that reputation, Kristin my teacher is an alum from this studio, so in my mind, EVERYONE here would be just-like-her. This was almost true. Yet, I remained curious, and so was willing to swallow my pride, and be the worst one in class just to see what all the fuss was about. I wasn’t disappointed. The class was so vigorous I perspired like I was in hot yoga. I hadn’t expected that and had come sans-towel. I persevered and ignored the fact that I became the sweatiest person in the fairly filled room, but eventually gave in, and became that yogi, the one that steps on everyone’s mat to get to the door, because the sweat is blinding her.

I had expected a humbling experience, but instead it was uplifting. The dharma was inspiring, the kirtan (chanting) a little hard to follow, but I appreciated her encouraging description of our “shining souls” as we chanted. Most of all, I admired how she gave each student in the class a meaningful adjustment, no easy feat given that there were over 30 students in the room.

The room was set up so the students were facing each , but not so close together that eye contact was inevitable, there was a roomy aisle in the corridor of sun-saluting bodies. The set up was disorienting at first, my “reflection”  was … a man. But as the class continued and the postures became progressively more challenging, I found that not only by breath, but my reflective partner were acting as my anchor, and I can’t say I minded.

I felt invigorated after my class at Jivamukti, and I liked it enough to try it again. The second time, was even more challenging then the first, the kirtan if possible was even more lovely, and yet I found it wasn’t nearly as centering. The students seemed noisier, more restless, and the teacher at times was just…loud.

Overall, my experience at Jivamukti was what i hoped it would be, and I see why it’s reputation proceeds it. If it were priced about a hundred dollars less a month, I would probably sign up. But it seems the price tag includes the celebrity hang out portion of its reputation which I could really do without.

During our teacher training program KL had peppered her insights with what she was learning and going through as a student from her teacher. At first I was surprised she had a teacher, I just assumed that she didn’t need a teacher, at least not one in the way she was a teacher to us. But then, I became incredibly curious. I mean she was already so much more knowledgeable and enlightened than we were, how much MORE was her teacher? I imagined a yoda-like figure who’s very look could enlighten you. It turns out he’s not a fictional character and actually opened up a studio near Union Square, Ishta Yoga. And KL now had a class there and invited us to come. I could barely wait.

I wanted to go first and foremost to support KL, her teachings have developed my practice in unbelievable ways, and going to support her was the least I could do. But I also wanted to see where SHE practices, and did it resemble Narnia? It was close. The studio was new, and still had a luminous unused quality to it. The amenities were immaculate, with yes, real changing rooms and sparkling bathrooms. But most impressive was the studio. It had a modern industrial aesthetic with a Zen feel, dark wood floors, white walls, high ceiling, and well placed lighting. The ceiling height gave it unusual spaciousness as if you were walking into a world of yoga, and not a just a studio. I also liked how the separate room for props demarcated the main studio, as if all students “past this point” shouldn’t be encumbered with citta vritti (fidgety thoughts) but focused on the moment.

Yet, despite the encouraging environment to focus on the yoga, I couldn’t. The girls were there, I obviously was not the only one curious about the place. More than half of the Winter 2008 Kaya Yoginis showed up, and it had been weeks since so many of us were together. It’s amazing what can transpire in a couple of weeks, many of them were well on their way to the new beginnings they had just started during training, and I wanted to hear all about it. We couldn’t stop chatting, and like school kids KL had to eventually shush us into taking our seats. It was heart full to see them again, to share what we’ve been up to, and our experiences since the training program. This is one of the best unions in yoga and one that’s often overlooked. I’d forgotten how much strength and support one can get from the many, and i understood then why even if KL always seemed confident and strong in her teaching, she still wanted her girls there.

I had just received my New York Yoga Pass Book in the mail the other day, and I could not wait to use it. For the unbelievable price of $75 + shipping, you get a two-class pass book to virtually every studio in Manhattan. After the teacher training program, it seemed to be a great way to check out other styles of teaching, And verify for myself, if NY Yoga was worth my almost-every-day commute to the UES.

For my first choice I selected the Kula Yoga Project . I’d been staring at it long enough, read all of the glowing reviews, and best of all it’s within walking distance of where I live. So there I was, at Kula’s front desk, out of breath from the everest walk up, but triumphantly presenting my Yoga Pass Book, The girl at the desk was friendly, she picked up right away that it was my first time, and took me through the paces, as I took in the colorful bohemian charm of the place.

Unfortunately, this is where the good part of my experience ended. I can forgive the shabbiness of the place, if it weren’t charging a remarkable monthly fee for unlimited classes. But for the monthly price I would be paying, I do have standards. I expect clean bathrooms, as in fungus-free sinks, changing rooms, where you can’t accidentally walk in on men and vice versa because the changing space is shared, and divided by wilting curtains. And the air, the cool spring breeze I had experienced outside was forgotten in the face of the sweltering almost stifling heat of the reception area, “I don’t remember this being a hot studio” I thought to myself, it’s not.

The studio it turned out was too small, so the teacher looked directly at me and said, ” if you’re just coming in the class is full“. I ducked away and pretended I hadn’t noticed her piercing gaze as she spoke in my direction. I had been about the 10th person on the sign-in sheet and was certain I was in the class. A girl looked helplessly at the teacher and pleaded, ” I don’t think there are 20 people around…”, the teacher firmly shook her head, “they’re around”, she pointed to the sign-in sheet. Dejected, the girls and others slowly left. The class was tight. So tight, you couldn’t fit three fingers between mats. Aware of this, I carefully rolled out my mat, the floor deeply sighed under the motion, my soon-to-be neighbor clearly annoyed barked, “you’ll need to move over more than that!”. And that was as friendly as it got.

During class, I was poked into adjusting my wrong utkatasana, and my shoulder in Utthita Parsvakonasana , and while we’re on the sanskrit, there wasn’t a drop of it in class, nor chanting, or ohming, and worst of all, no mention of the breath. This was minimalist yoga, imperceptible that it came from India or had a 5,000+ year history, this was yoga birthed from the *gasp*, Jane Fonda gym.

But, maybe it was just a bad day and a bad class, the reviews can’t all be wrong, and the commute is just too good. We all deserve a second chance.

I went to a meditation workshop today at the Tibet House, led by Sharon Salzberg. I’d been looking forward to coming, the talk had received glowing reviews, and as an added bonus, I would be seeing my old friend Simon. There was a simple, inviting kind of warmth in the Tibet’s House. It reminded me of the warmth I often find in a yoga studio, the connection in sharing a space and practice.

I took off my shoes and entered the room, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting , but I was surprised to see the lecture style set up, chairs surrounding a small platform at the front. I suppose I’d become too accustomed to sitting in “my comfortable seat” on the floor. She started off with a quick introduction, her manner and voice were inviting, and maybe even a touch maternal. I could immediately tell, that despite the set up this would be more of a conversation than a lecture, I smiled. Wonderful. She then guided us through our first meditation, and I happily settled into the space and buttery quality of her voice.

Her lecture focused on loving kindness, where she delved into the Buddhisms five hindrances, and states of mindfulness. It was instructive, and exactly what I had been hoping for, just enough to understand without being overwhelmingly informative. Throughout the lecture, I couldn’t help but notice “yoga” terminology peppered throughout. Phrases suchas “energetically”, “mindful awareness”, even non-existent words like, “connectedness”. Which started my mind down the road of “what would my meditation practice be like without yoga?”

In the early days, yoga was not an end in and of itself, it was a means to help yogi’s develop a strong meditation practice, by creating a supple body that could sustain stillness for endless medtation sessions. Some of the meditation may be been lost in many of today’s yoga practices, but I couldn’t help but notice that coincidently the yoga was missing in today’s meditation practice.

She spoke of “walking” meditation, vs. seated meditation, and how to develop the disciple to meditate even when the environment was far from perfect. As we moved into our second (and last) guided meditation, I couldn’t help but become aware of the fidgeting noise around me. Movement caused by physical discomfort of having been in a hard seat for the past hour and a half. I tried to be yogic about it, as I labeled my thought as “judgment” and pressed on. But I know, that had it not been for yoga, I would have also been fidgeting in ways that would have antagonized Simon, and everyone else in a 5 body radius of me. And after all of these downward dogs, and suryanamaskaras I think i finally understood how yoga developed into such an intense practice, only with movement can you find stillness in a world of motion.