Yoga Magellen

Today I was feeling a little stiff in my lower back, and my left shoulder was bothering me. I had planned to do a home practice, but was very tempted to skip it to give my back and shoulder some rest. Still, I thought maybe I'd just do a light practice to loosen things up a bit, and then get on with my day. Since my time today is a bit less structured, I hit my mat with no particular expectations; just the idea to work on the areas that were bothering me. An hour and a half later I had done a full practice, including some inversions and arm balances that I hadn't worked on in a while. With no particular agenda for my practice, I was able to use my time to connect with my body and breath, and allow them to lead me where I needed to go. I took my time along the way to enjoy a few poses and work on some variations I hadn't worked on before. I played around with some sequencing ideas; some worked, some didn't, and even though I had a sense of the direction I was going in, I had no specific poses that I specifically wanted to visit but instead opted to follow where I was being led.

Sometimes I feel like a tourist visiting my practice. I have my guidebook in hand, I know all the sights I want to see along the way, I have an itinerary of where I need to be and at what time. I may be able to see and do some fun things, but at the end of the day I really didn't get to partake in the culture, or spend time browsing through the really cool bazaar at the side of the road. Today I felt more like an explorer. I had my compass and a knife, a bottle of water and a sleeping bag. I was able to set out on a journey with no specific destination in mind, spend time with the locals and make some new friends along the way. I journeyed in whatever direction I was compelled, and took my time once I got there.

So often I get caught up in what I can accomplish; how much can I get done? how many poses can I fit in? how can I make this transition more interesting? This approach has it's benefits. Structure can be very beneficial, and we can learn a great deal from setting goals and making plans on how to accomplish them. It's when I get caught up in the results that I get discouraged. When I start judging today's practice by what I did yesterday, or last week or even last year. That's where I need to remember to point my body in the right direction and let my breath guide me the rest of the way. Then I become open to whatever might present itself, and stop being locked into the rut of what I "should" be experiencing. So, even on those days when I'm pressed for time and need to stick to the itinerary, I can still retain the spirit of the explorer.

Dancing On Air

A few years ago, my wife and I went to a hot-air balloon festival in New Jersey. We spent much of the afternoon visiting the vendors and eating "fair food," but at around 5 p.m. everyone started to stake out their territory next to the balloon launch zone to witness the big show - the launching of dozens and dozens of hot-air balloons. My wife and I spread our blanket, set out our chairs, got out our picnic supplies and started to settle in for the spectacle. Already we could see several balloons beginning to inflate; there were balloons of every shape and color, and the excitement was becoming palpable. All of a sudden we were approached by a rather official-looking person who asked if we'd like to help crew one of the balloons. At first we were just stared at each other in disbelief, but then we both jumped up and started to gather our belongings. How could we pass up a chance like this?

We were escorted to a balloon owned and operated by a Pepperidge Farm distributor from the St. Louis area. He specialized in the little goldfish crackers, and in fact had one of the goldfish emblazoned on the side of his balloon. He also had baskets full of sample-sized goldfish cracker packages, all with long red streamers attached to them. We were quickly informed that we were going to help them inflate the envelope (the technical term for the balloon). First, we helped attach the basket, which looks like a big wicker flower basket, then the crew chief and I unfurled the envelope. The pilot turned on a couple of big fans and aimed them into the throat of the envelope. My job was to help hold the throat open while other crew members helped open the folds of the envelope so that the air could distribute inside. It was beautiful to watch. Like some multicolored primordial creature, the balloon would begin to expand, then as more folds were opened it would softly settle. The air was both giving it shape and supporting it's mass.

Once the envelope was most of the way full, the pilot directed the propane jets into it, and started heating the air. It was like a giant had been awakened. The air inside heated surprisingly quickly, and the balloon began to lift upright. The crew chief and I held onto the ropes to keep the balloon steady as the pilot entered the basket with the paying passengers. Just as the balloon was about to leave the ground, the pilot turned to my wife (who is not overly fond of heights) and said "Get in." She gave me a look that said, "I have to!" and up they sailed.

I should mention that if you've never seen a mass launching of hot air balloons, it really is indescribable. Virtually silent except for the sound of the propane jets and the gasps of the crowd, it's almost reverent.

I got into the chase car with the crew chief and we started following our balloon. For about 30 minutes we navigated the back roads of New Jersey, through neighborhoods and fields, business parks and ball parks. Finally we saw the balloon start to descend in a neighborhood. Red streamers started to fall from inside the basket as packages of goldfish crackers were being tossed to the crowd below. The pilot had landed in someone's back yard, and it was as if Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and Willy Wonka had landed. Dozens of kids and parents were running over to see what wizard had fallen from the sky. The pilot, all smiles, helped the passengers out of the basket as the crew chief and I grabbed the ropes. My wife was beaming and almost speechless. As we helped deflate the balloon she just kept saying, "You've got to do this...you've got to do this."

The next day I had my chance. We ended up going back and helping them with the morning launch, and I was the one who got to experience the magic of flying, suspended by nothing more than air and a few ropes. The ascension was nearly undetectable. All of a sudden we were 50, then 100, then 200 feet off the ground. Elevators are more jarring. The whole experience was peaceful and awe-inspiring. Every few seconds the pilot turned on the porpane to heat the air so we would rise, or would open the vent at the top so that we would descend. Like breathing, it was a constant balance of inhales and exhales in order to keep us at a favorable altitude.

Lately in my yoga practice I've been reminded of this experience. As I warm up, I use my breath to help open up all the tight spots in my muscles and joints, preparing my lungs to breathe fully. I tune in to the subtle movement that my breath is creating in my body: my inhales opening me and giving me structure, my exhales softening me and releasing tension and rigidity. As I allow my breath to deepen, I begin to move my body in the directions that it is being encouraged to go. Inhaling length and space, exhaling roundness and surrender. My breath then guides me through a series of sun salutations, creating heat and suppleness in my joints and muscles. As I continue in my practice, I begin to alter the shape of my body to direct my breath into different areas, like squeezing a balloon will cause the air inside to expand away from the point of constriction. Softening, I allow the breath to open up the points of restriction and tension, allowing me to find even more opening. Using the quality of the inhales and exhales as a guide, my body finds the right altitude to sail at, effortlessly and peacefully. If I stop paying attention I can either over-heat and begin to sail away into unsafe altitudes, or become dull and start to fall from the sky. The constant flow of breath, the inhales and exhales, allows me to maintain an even tack. As I let my exhales deepen and my breath become softer, I allow gravity to assist in the process of letting go of the flight, and re-ground myself to the earth.

Reflections

We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.
~ Anais Nin ~

What do you see when you look in the mirror? Is the reflection a strong, confident person, or someone who needs to lose 10 pounds? Is the face looking back at you a husband or wife, father or mother, boss or employee, son or daugther, student or drop-out? Does the person looking back at you change during the day? Is it a different face in the morning than it is in the evening?

In truth, all you see when you look in the mirror is the interplay between light and a reflective surface. All of the other identities, attachments and aversions are those that we create from our own experience and judgement.

We have other mirrors around us all the time. They are our friends, relatives, co-workers; even the person who serves us our coffee. Each of them acts as a reflective medium of our behavior and attitude, bouncing back to us our own behavior based on their experience of us. When we are feeling upbeat and friendly most people react in kind. When we are grouchy and abrupt, people may treat us coolly or even avoid us altogether. If, however, we are generally happy and sociable, and one day we are grouchy and sullen, those who know us may react with concern. Suspecting something is wrong, they may behave more compassionately or even cautiously towards us. If we are generally quiet and reserved, and suddenly begin to make jokes and "let our hair down," people may be surprised at first; perhaps even shocked. Some may become suspicious, others may begin to gravitate toward us, still others may try to encourage us to continue in this new behavior.
We also react to what other people say and do through the filter of our own experience and attitude at the particular moment. Someone says "have a nice day," and depending on our circumstances, we might react in a variety of ways. If we've just been met with some bad news, we might lash out. If we are in a rush, we might dismiss the sentiment. If we are feeling upbeat, we might respond with a smile and a "Same to you!" Each of these reactions will then be reflected back by the recipient based on their experience at the time, and their knowledge of us. So each of our interchanges becomes a series of reflections back and forth, much like a funhouse maze.

Of course, just like in a funhouse, sometimes our image gets distorted when it is reflected back. Often this happens in the context of a relationship, be it spouses, relatives, friends, co-workers, simply becuase there already exists a set of expectations and behaviors. We say or do something, and depending on the recipient's state of mind they might misinterpret our words or deeds. The distortions caused by their present cirumstances bend our meaning like the waves in a carnival mirror, and what is reflected back is out of proportion to reality. They react in a way that we weren't expecting, we get confused and react back based on that confusion. All of a sudden we are embroiled in something completely different than we had intended.

This is what Patanjali refers to when he speaks of the "citta vritti," or "fluctuations of the mind." Through our practice of awareness, observation and attention, we are able to recognize when we are reacting out of our circumstances rather than the reality of the situation. Once we are able to clean and smooth out the surface of our mind, we become able to interrupt these patterns before they take hold, allowing us to see and react with clarity and equanimity. When we become sensitive and receptive to how others react towards us, reflecting our behavior, we develop the ability to understand how our actions are seen, and we gain greater insight into our own agendas and attitudes. Ahimsa (non-harming) and Satya (truthfulness) become the light that uncovers patterns of behavior, and we begin to take responsibility for our actions and attitudes.

When I teach Partner Yoga, the one thing that I always find interesting is witnessing how the partners relate to each other. It's easy to see what the relationship is like simply through the way the participants work with each other. Do they work as a team, or is one person the leader? Does one person get frustrated with the other because they are not as strong/flexible/ supportive? Do the partners take time to really relate to each other, to sense each other's breath and presence, or do they plow headlong attached to their own agenda? One woman asked me during a private Partner session if this was couples therapy. I smiled and said, "No, this is just yoga. But if you remain open, who knows what you might discover."

Frank's workshop day 1

OK, I'm amazed that I'm even able to type...my shoulders are so sore from all the inversions today!

I'm loving the Louisville Yoga community! They're very friendly and welcoming, and the Yoga East studio we're at is spacious and lovely. I didn't realize that so many of the teachers here are OM yoga trained.

The first workshop today focused on the awareness of how the breath and body work together in the yoga practice; how we can use the awareness of our breath to align our bodies and how the precise attention to the breath informs our asana practice. The thing I love about Frank's teaching is his precision of language and attention to detail. This, combined with an in-depth understanding of anatomy and a keen eye for alignment all make him one of the most perceptive teachers I've worked with. The second workshop focused on standing poses and inversions. Specifically, about how the grounding of our bodies, either through our feet or our hands, provides the lifting that we need to find ease in these challenging poses. Frank does a fabulous job of preparing you for each step of a pose, no matter how challenging. At one point we were working on Badha Parvritta Parsvokonasana (Bound Rotated Side Angle), and taking that to Badha Parvritta Ardha Chandrasana Bound rotated Ardha Chandrasana). It was the closest I've come to that pose (and I would have gotten it had it not been for a bit too much hummus at lunch). After several Pincha Mayurasana (Forearm Balance) and a few wheels, not to mention an extended Shoulderstand, I was done.

After class, several of us went to dinner at a local pub/cafe. We had a wonderful time hanging out, sharing stories and winding down. I'm SO looking forward to tomorrow.

Why we practice

Like many, if not all, of you, I was entranced by the events of yesterday's miraculous plane ditching in the Hudson River. For any of you who have flown in or out of LaGuardia airport, even a normal landing or take-off can be a bit harrowing. Between the winds over the East River and Flushing Bay, the impressive yet daunting buildings that make up New York City and the sheer amount of air traffic, even seasoned travellers find themselves running through disaster scenarios in their minds. After what appears to be a collision with a flock of geese which took out both engines moments after take-off, the idea that Capt. Sullenberger had the presence of mind to quickly run through his various options, and then was able to put the aircraft down - safely - in the middle of the Hudson River without hitting buildings, bridges, piers AND with no loss of life is impressive indeed. Granted, a bit of luck was on his side. Except for the bone-chilling cold, the weather conditions were, as the aviation pundits like to say, favorable. Despite not being able to see below, there were no helicopters, aircraft or boats underneath him. Still, the single most impressive factor that saved the 155 lives on board was preparation.

Capt. Sullenberger is a former Air Force pilot with 40 years of experience flying planes. Additionally, he is an aviation accident investigator and safety expert. This mix of experience and preparation assisted him in quickly analyzing the situation and taking an appropriate course of action. According to some of the interviews with other pilots I heard on the news last night, the ditching was nearly textbook. One pilot, who happened to be in the cockpit in another near-tragic plane crash a decade ago, said that pilots have the rare opportunity to be in the classroom everyday. Between personal experience behind the controls, as well as discussions with other pilots, a mental file drawer of various scenarios and solutions is put together. Capt. Sullenberger, with his years of experience, had a mental file drawer that was overflowing, but the one quality that distinguished him yesterday was his ability to maintain composure under extreme conditions. Had he panicked, the results yesterday might have been quite different.

What Capt. Sullenberger possessed was an ability to focus, control his emotions and calm himself. Constant practice created a habit. As Patanjali says in the Yoga Sutras, practice becomes firmly grounded when well attended to for a long time, without break and in all earnestness. I recently found out that my brother-in-law, a retired NYC police officer, established a practice of only firing three shots at a time on the pistol range. He wanted to make sure that, should he ever have to use deadly force, he had trained himself to not lose control and empty his clip.

Most of us will never run into these extreme situations, however we never know when a crisis might hit. We hit a patch of ice and our car begins to slide out of control. We look around and don't see our child beside us in the mall. We get a phone call that our sister got bad results on her cancer screening. Our computer crashes and all of the files that we need for the presentation tomorrow are now lost. Any of these situations might send us into a frenzy of panic which will cloud our judgement and cause us to act irrationally. By continually observing our own lives, and by observing others, we create our own mental file drawer of scenarios and solutions. By continually practicing our attention to our breath, how we react to stressful situations in our asana practice and a mindfulness to our surroundings, we might be able to react in a calm manner, taking appropriate action and averting a crisis.

Keeping it real

Every now and then I catch myself saying something in class, and immediately feel a cringe run through my body. Not that I said anything inappropriate (though I have to guard myself against that from time to time) or mean-spirited (that's really not in my nature...often). No, sometimes I say something that just doesn't sound like ME. Sometimes it's something I pick up from another teacher, but more often it's when I am trying to sound deep, profound and yoga-like. As soon as it's out of my mouth I feel the eyes of the entire class on me, and they are rolling.

I'm probably the only person who is accutely aware of when this happens. But every time it does, I feel like I've let the class down. After all, they made time in their day to come to my class, and they deserve something better than some recycled, re-hashed, regurgitated philosphical BS. Some of these pearls are prefaced with the words, "It is said that..." or "I'm told...," but often I'm just spouting something that I thought sounded clever. That's really just another way of saying, "I have no firsthand knowledge of this, but I don't want to appear ignorant so I'm going to hide behind this mask for a minute and I hope you don't notice."

Now I'm not saying that every morsel that trips off my tongue needs to be an epiphany or even an original thought...after all, there is so much written on the subject of yoga by people far more experienced than I, so I don't have to try to reinvent the wheel each time I teach. But, as a teacher, the one unique thing I have to offer is my own personal experience with whatever it is that I'm teaching. If my students want to know what Seane Corn or Pema Chodron or Cyndi Lee have to say on a particular subject, there are plenty of resources available. I might reference their wisdom, but if all I have to offer is what someone else says, then I might as well pop in a DVD and let the students follow that.

I've come a long way in finding my "authentic voice" as a teacher, but there is still plenty of room for growth. If I'm lucky, I'll continue learning and growing and gaining more and more experiences to draw from to illustrate the points I'm trying to make in class. But I guess in putting this out there, I'm holding myself accountable. Or at least keeping myself aware.

What's the appeal?

I often wonder...what is it that draws people to yoga? I'm sure each of your reasons would be unique. Are you looking to be challenged physically, mentally and spiritually? Or do you get enough of a challenge in your everyday life, and just want a place that is a happy and peaceful refuge?

Is it the workout? If it's just the physical aspect, then why yoga?

Is it the spiritual aspect? If so, then why not go to a more traditional house of worship?

Is it the sense of community? Why not volunteer?

What is it that keeps YOU coming to class?