Heart Full

It’s funny the things you don’t notice are missing from your practice (and by extension life) until someone points it out. And when they do, it’s that “ah-hah” moment when a million new possibilities flash in your mind all at once. The missing ingredient was ritual. I had disdained ritual in my 20s primarily because it reminded me of somber catholic ceremonies which I only participated in under duress. As I got older, I’ve become more spiritual and no longer actively avoid ceremony. But I still don’t incorporate much ritual in my life. My food is eaten without thanks,  special dates like anniversaries approach without notice and then at the last minute are haphazardly celebrated. In fact not only do I NOT notice / incorporate any ritual in my life, I actually don’t like many of the ones I have to participate in, like birthdays, bridal showers, and other “Hallmark Holidays”. It always seems like the drama outweighs any benefits. But then, as our teacher pointed out life ends up just passing you by without any punctuation of meaningful moments.

She encouraged us to create rituals in our lives. To build the alter. To learn the deities and be inspired by them. To celebrate ourselves, because we are GODDESSES. To remember that time passes, events happen, and we should take a moment to acknowledge those transformations. Even better she dressed up our third eyes, a small act that made everyone visibly brighten, even my husband remarked that it was “neat“.  While I’m not ready to call myself a goddess just yet — (though i did float the title to my boss just to test the waters), I think there are small things I can do to add rites back in my life.  First, I explored my neighborhood and found inspirations of divinity.  I saw that at the local church there was an advertisement for an upcoming exhibit, it read:

* I AM , the bread of life

* I AM, the light of the world

* I AM, the gate

* I AM, the good shepard

* I AM, the resurrection and the life

* I AM, the way, the truth, and the life

* I AM, the true vine.

And I couldn’t help but notice that this was very much like the mantra, SoHum. — I AM that. Lovely.

The first week came and went so fast, it’s a strain to remember it. But I know that after one weekend with these 17 other students, I felt a connection. This was unexpected for me. During my 200 hour training class it took us awhile to build up a sense of camaraderie, a casual sharing of  ”my mat is your mat”. I would say it took us somewhere between week 6-8. Not that we didn’t get along, or have intimate sharing sessions, we just were missing a connection. Our teacher noticed it too, she commented that many of the teacher trainings she’s done the yoginis tended to hang out outside of training. Not so with us, it seemed that outside our love for yoga we really didn’t have that much to talk about it. After our teacher training, a couple of us became good friends, and in fact one of my close friends now, Yadana — is from my 200 hour teacher training.But in this training, after just one weekend I felt like I already knew each and every one yogi, and I liked them. It was as if exactly the right mix of people got together for this journey.

I’ve known for awhile I wanted to do more teacher training. I had such an incredible experience during my 200 hour teacher training that frankly I wanted to go right into 300 hours after graduation. But upon further reflection I decided to wait. I wanted to develop my own practice and feel some sense of grounding as a teacher. We also absorbed so much material in such an intense amount of time that I needed some space to fully bake. I had considered several schools, and even went so far as to speak to several program directors, but it didn’t feel quite right. Something at the back of my head kept telling me to wait. After some discussion with my husband I decided that this year, was the year. It wasn’t an easy decision, as I’m sure everyone embarking on extended training soon encounters there are so many “buts”, questions and doubts. Would we be able to afford it? How much time would I have left for my family between my husband’s school, this training, my job, and the handful of classes I already teach?  Was I tempting fate a little too much, asking for the inevitable collapse? Maybe. Yet, after this weekend full of classes, teaching, and multiple balancing acts between home, work and yoga. I think maybe I’ve managed to find just the right union between all three, and I’ve never felt so energized. I can hardly wait.

I’ve been looking forward to my home coming for months, especially since this time we’d be able to go on a mini getaway — Boracay Philippines. Boracay is one of the most beautiful beaches in the Philippines IMHO. Admittedly it’s become quite commericalized — as seen by the beach front Starbucks, but the white sand is still powdery soft, and the water a sparkling blue crystal. It takes your breath away.  There’s almost no better place to do yoga, and after having no luck in finding an open studio in Manila (many closed during the holidays) — I figured my yoga would be whatever I could craft up on the beach.

But my ever observant husband, actually found a yoga studio right along the beach — True Yoga. Located just about “True Food” an Indian restaurant on the main strip. They only offered classes at 9am (daily) after which the “studio” converts to a restaurant. No worries, some yoga is better than no yoga.  I was the first one to arrive at 8:50am sharp, most of the other students trickled in around 9am-9:30am in fact the instructor didn’t get there until close to 9:30. It was a casual setting, some regulars, but a few tourists (like myself). I found out that there were about ~3 instructors and they rotated yoga styles daily between Hatha, Sivananda and Anusara. Lovely.

The instructor was lively and friendly. She chatted to other students about kids — hers were apparently in college — surprising as I wouldn’t have put her a day past 35. Sensing that there was a lot of different practice styles around the room she announced that today’s class would be Hatha yoga “just the classics”. Great, I was looking forward to a non-flow class where natural music wouldn’t have to compete with the manufactured sounds.  But it didn’t turn out so great for me. Hard to believe given the view — the most jaw dropping post-card ready view any yoga studio is likely to have, or the acoustics of lapping waters, I somehow couldn’t get it together in class. And I’m not entirely sure why. I think it was a lot of different little things. I’d mildly pulled my hamstring recently, so still dealing with the frustration of not being able to be as mobile. The girl next to me was called “Mary” and the teacher’s pronunciation made it sound like it could’ve been my name — so verbal adjustments were a challenge. And I guess I just wasn’t happy with the poses. The instructor seemed like she had a specific way of doing the poses — and didn’t seem thrilled with my modifications. I’m also not a big fan of teachers who give advanced poses — and encourage their beginner students to “just try it”, without a lot of instruction or other options. So I saw a number of half lotuses achieved by rotating the knees rather than finding the opening in the hips. Scary. An injury just waiting to happen.

By the end of class I was so testy about the whole experience I left so fast — I actually walked out of the studio wearing someone elses shoes. Unbelievable.