Heart Full

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.

So now it’s over. I have a couple loose ends left, some observations to submit, re-take the test in case I bombed it, but I think I’ll be OK. I know it sounds so rehearsed, and by now I’ve said this phrase so many times in my own life, but really ” I can hardly believe it’s all over”. After anxiety ridden weeks of anticipating my class, imagining every which way it could go wrong, it’s over, and it went well. People seemed to respond to my guidance, and assists. My aunt was (as always) fantastic. She did so well, even moving into Urdhva Dhanurasana on her own. I was deee-lighted. And the girls, the girls I’ve shared the last thirteen weeks with were extraordinary.

Every weekend, not only was I learning something new about yoga, but something new about life from each of the girls in class. And they all, until the very end continued to suprise me with their wisdom, and grace. For example, my last class. I assumed this class would be gentle and meditative, because the teacher-trainee is gentle and thoughtful. After a challenging morning my body ached for a restorative. Instead, I found myself shamelessly sweating and collapsing into child’s pose, somehow manging to resist the draw of the DIY svasana. I could not WAIT for the margarita. Yet even if my body was done, I was so happy and proud of her, and of the class she presented. I liked that it was invigorating, challenging, and yet retained its’ Rose-ness. The other classes I participated in were all uniquely memorable. Probably because each of the girls who presented it is special.

These last three months I felt like I had gone back to highschool, where all of my friends were girls, and we didn’t really have to deal with the complication of boys. Already I miss my weekends with them, and the liveliness thier personalities. And even if we didn’t hang out much during our teacher training, I have a feeling we’ll see each other again outside of the studio if only to:

• Marvel at the length of War and Peace, in Spanish – courtesy of Padmasana’s weekend reading
• Do our first Kaya Yoga cross word puzzle – courtesy of Pincha Mayurasana’s bedside reading.
• Figure out how to start my own small business and survive – courtesy of Ganesh
• Get in the best shape of my life – courtesy of virasana.
• Finally learn how to actually pronounce all the anatomical terms- courtesy of Urdhva Vrkaskana
• Be prepared for any eventuality that may occur in my class, including how to say eka pada rajakapotasana
• Watch bakasana turn into a scorpion, because this is as close as I’ll ever get to actually doing one myself
• Admire hanumanasa’s smile, because everyone else is, except maybe herself.

I can’t recommend my experience enough, or the women who shared it with me. I’m already planning on a reunion.

Deciding to do the Teacher Training program is an important decision in every yogini’s life. Even before the first day of class, it’s clear that it’s going to require commitment, determination, all of your eneregy, and a certain degree of political panache as you sidestep family and friends for your weekly rendevous with the mat. More important than this however, is deciding on a teacher.

To most, my choice seemed intuitive, I chose to do my training at the studio I’ve been attending for the past year. I liked the community, and progressively the studio has become my home-away-from-home. Despite all this, it wasn’t an easy choice to make. New York City boasts far more famous studios, with world renowned teacher training programs. I had moved by the time the training started, so the studio was no longer a convenient 3 blocks from home, but more than 80 blocks uptown. And which teacher would best suit my needs? A world famous one, a man, a woman, how experienced? I trolled through all the teacher training literature from NYC studios, balancing how much I could pay vs. what they were offering, but I kept coming back to New York Yoga.

I discovered I wanted to learn with Kristin, that I admired her style, keen observations, serenity, and most importantly her humanity. I felt she wasn’t born perfect, that she had to earn her marevlous ability, and her asanas (postures) were more a testimony to her determination. Between her dharmas (story-telling insights) were glimpses of a quirky sense of humor, and echoes of a colorful past life that probably reflected my current one. She knew where I was coming from, and perhaps that knowledge is what has always enabled her to to clearly show me the next steps.

Knowing what I know now, I’m confident in my decision. Maybe other programs are more prestigious, rigorous, and encompassing. But for me, this program is the right one, because this teacher for me, is the right one.

Everyone has an embarrassing moment in their life, some of us are so blessed as to have more than one, and others still, so many that counting is impossible. These moments have been some of the most enlightening experiences for me, yet with single-minded determination I push the embarrassing weeds of my life into the dark corners of my mind.

Then, like clock work, just when I’m beginning to believe that I have this life-thing under control, my nemesis (who is no longer my brother) reminds I have nothing. What I have managed to acquire instead, is not control, or “ease” but actually ego. We’ll take this past weekend as Exihbit A.

I was in my usual Sunday morning class, All Levels Vinyasa. I had barely arrived on time, sleep was still clawing at my eyes, but I was managing to ground myself with every touch of the mat. I felt my practice was strengthening, I thought for a few breaths I was getting better, maybe I finally deserved to be where I was, at the front of the class. I was feeling so confident about myself and my practice that when it came time to headstand , I didn’t think twice. I had done it dozens of times, and even if my variant resembles more of a broken pencil than a true headstand I was fairly stable in my extended-egg pose. Besides, I had done it just last week in class, it was no problem, today was MY day.

I rolled in and up, feeling secure and aligned. My inverted-squat pose was stable, I felt comfortable enough to extend. For two glorious seconds, all was right in my upside down world. Then against every fibre in my body, my hips shifted, and the inverted egg cracked, I tumbled with the most blood-curdling kind of crash, the kind that could only happen at-the-front-of-the-class. My well deserved place.

Leslie (another teacher-in-training) rushed across the room, I sensed her coming as I was crashing. I looked up at her, a disoriented mess on the floor, thankfully unhurt. She seemed genuinely concerned, but quickly saw that at least physically I was unharmed, “It’s OK”, I sighed, “just my ego” I added silently. And it really was, my ego, because if I had kept my honestly about my practice, I’d have known, I was coming into it full of my “I-ntention”.

After class Kristin came over, in her comforting way. My last mortifying moment came out of its’ dark corner, and I remembered. It was also in her class, at the front of the room, quite possibly worse than this last one. It was a defining moment for me, that I had pushed aside, one of the most important reasons why I chose to be in her class. She keeps it real, she empathizes, she makes you laugh, and then she makes you understand.