small change

practice

The wind this morning tried its best to intimidate birds and humans alike. Well, at least this human, who was reluctant to get out of bed to head to yoga class relatively early on a holiday weekend. But, once I got myself out of bed and gathered my wits enough to make coffee and then put out seed for the birds, I realized that this wind was all huff and empty howl, without the icy breath to back up the threat. Outside my doors, it turned out, there was a gloriously bright and balmy morning.

It didn't take long for the sparrows to gather for the seeds. They appeared in small waves, flying forth from the berry-ridden bush. But no sooner did they start on their feast, the quails arrived, in force, too, ready to claim their sizable share of the freshly dished seeds. There was no mixing among this group, as there usually is between the doves and sparrows and juncos. The quail ate fast, while one of them stood watch, then they disappeared as fast as they had come.

I had my coffee and since I didn't make it to class, proceeded to practice at home. I looked for a sequence of poses for shoulder problems, since I did strain that area with efforts to build some muscle, a reasonable plan, but not if you go about the business of it with the mind of a 30-year-old in the body of a 50+ person. I settled on a sequence of 30 poses, as outlined by Iyengar in his therapeutic yoga suggestions in The Path to Holistic Health.

The entire sequence took almost 2 hours, because of the way I was practicing, which was by engaging in a quiet dialog with my body. It's a common place new-agism to say to let your body be the teacher, but if you get your mind out of the picture, or rather, if you get the picture out of your mind of what yoga should be and what you should be doing while practicing yoga, your body will steer you in a direction that can lead to a place where you'll find that the least effort will produce the most benefit. Of course, this doesn't mean that you don't work hard; it's just that you don't need the effort, because you will have known how strength manifests as grace in a pose.

I suppose this effortless steady state is what The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali point to in the following verses:

• The physical postures should be steady and comfortable.
• They are mastered when all effort is relaxed and the mind is absorbed in the Infinite.
• Then we are no longer upset by the play of opposites.

reach

This morning, when I headed out, I grabbed my camera. But when I walked across the parking lot at my destination, lit up by the tender November morning sun as it was, I lost my nerve for photography. I had in mind to document something from the day as part of the commitment I made to post every day. Without the images, I have only words to speak of that slice from the day that contained my arrival to the shopping center in Larkspur Landing in Marin. Larkspur Landing is a gateway of sorts, as well as a small self-contained community of shops, offices, and apartment and condo complexes. In this it is both a destination and a point of departure.

The ferry to San Francisco departs from across the shopping center and heads into the (most of the time) balmy bay, shortly after it makes a turn at San Quentin prison. The Marin Airporter picks up and unloads travelers near the cinema complex. A local microbrewery, kitty-corner across from a 24-Hour Fitness gym dispenses beer and provides a place for musicians to show their talent. A small Thai restaurant serves up delicious fare, down the corner from a Starbucks, which, in turn is only a few steps from a wine store with a regular schedule for tastings. A Bed Bath & Beyond store has everything to satisfy one's need to nest in a limited space with a limited budget – or not, as the case of one's finances may be.

If I were young and single, and with a job in the Financial District in San Francisco, and if I also had a penchant for living near the water with biking and hiking trails within reach, without having to get into a car, and if it mattered  to me that my commute be fun and different and leisurely at once, I would have jumped at the chance to live at Larkspur Landing, even if the one thing the area lacks is a grocery store. But if I were the kind of person I just described, I wouldn't be spending much time in a grocery store anyway.

I have been coming to the Larkspur Landing Circle shopping center at least 3 to 4 times a week for over three years now. Not to shop, or work, but to “work out.” The yoga studio where I take classes is located here. Until YogaWorks bought it and transitioned the programs into its structure of offerings, the YogaStudio, as it was called before had its own loyal, but probably slowly aging following.

Under the new management, much has changed at the studio. The most obvious change was in a structuring of classes that would appeal to a younger and trendier crowd than the one that has been the core group of the old studio. The business of yoga, from this standpoint, is not yoga's business. It's a fine distinction, but one that makes sense to me. It makes sense because it allows for the generation of cents, which in turn guarantees that yoga thrives in its many forms, regardless of arguments about the legitimacy of those forms.

Though much has changed in terms of the structure of the classes at the studio, the place itself looks the same, even if to most of us old-timers it seems that a certain lovin' feelin' is gone, gone. Luckily for us, most of our teachers also made the transition into the new studio, so when we gather in class, not only is that old feeling the same, but thankfully the actual practice as well. And, after all, this sense of the practice is what we are after.

Which reminds me that, though I went looking for something exciting and different to post today, in my search for the new, it is the discovery of a familiar that thrilled me the most: the recognition that some changes, the wider they reach, the deeper they can root you in the one place that sustains your own reach.

imagination

If yoga is, as Patañjali says, the settling of the mind into silence, then, this man, sitting in the middle of the hubbub in front of the New York Public Library, is a master of sorts.

Then again, he appears settled only because of the furtive frame I imposed on him as I went about shooting timidly – and without any method, that is: artlessly – trying to do the exact opposite of what yoga is about: agitate my mind through forcing my eye to see beyond what it was taking in.

I took a lot of pictures while I was in New York, most of which I deleted already. The ones that remain on my hard drive are unsettled images not of place so much as of a mind wondering (and wandering) about, well, images. That's because, while in New York, I had two conversation about photography with two gifted “seers.” One told me of a long time spent in studying the images of other photographers to see how they solved certain problems for making of the image more than a representation. The other photographer told me of frustrating times spent in having to make a way to seeing again and again, in spite of a seasoned past of shooting.

Oddly, I realized later, these two approaches to photography describe pretty much what the “craft” of writing has been for me. For years I studied texts to see how others have solved the problem of making words into gateways to worlds. Then, as I got older, and the world became more obscure in a dimming field of vision, I mistook the loss of clarity in the world for a loss of words.

The problem I have to solve then is not “re-presenting,” or even “presenting,” but being present, even if in a world that exists only in the blink of an eye, as it did in the lens, in which a man, though troubled he may be, appears to have mastered calm for all eternity.

shield

After yoga class today, I took a very long bath. Perhaps the combination of poses held for a long time and the long soak in hot water, left me a bit softheaded, if not exactly softhearted. I had to face some unwelcome truths about aspects of my relationship with a certain family member lately, and yesterday, it all came to a head, wounding me deeply, even as I struggled to contain not just the current emotional damage, but also cut through the fog of the past attachments that keeps (at least me) disoriented when it comes to finding a way out of this situation that has been stuck in a groove for years.

So, it was with great interest that I read Sally Kempton’s current article in this month’s Yoga Journal, called “Protective Services.” Last night, as I was devising small rituals to help me shed, and so contain, some of these ancient feelings that shut of all possibility for change and openness, little did I know that I was practicing one of the core principles of vulnerability: building boundaries in order to be more open.

The practice of opening to vulnerability is not for wimps. It’s an advanced practice, requiring strength, discernment, and boundaries – all qualities your yoga practice will give you, if you give it time.
...
The spiritual journey often looks like a dance between the two distinct poles of vulnerabilities and boundaries. It’s a continuing dialogue between the impulse to soften and open and the impulse to contain and protect.

Of course, as a recovering wimp, I remember the days when containment was as easy to be had as it was to pour a glass of wine, or ask a doctor for some pills. None which made for good dialogue. In fact, that kind of containing was an endless performance of the same monologue in an empty theatre.

I am aware that it's not going to be easy. There will be days when the performer in me will want to opt for the monologue, even in the empty theatre, rather than let either the impulse to contain or the impulse to soften have it's say and have either heard. 

There is more, of course, but it's time to go catch that light that is beckoning from the top of the stairs. It's a gorgeous January day here, and it's best to seize it before I miss it by writing about it.....

upward and onward

The first day of the year may be memorable for the fact that the temperature in my neck of the woods stayed pretty much the same all night and all day. On a more personal note, I started the year with a nearly 3-hour yoga class. Diehards all six of us who showed up at class, we went through a deep and rigorous practice. Some of us have practiced together nearing on 3 years now, too, so it is not surprising that at times it feels like hanging out with family.

There is a lot more yoga in the cards for me this year, too, since my primary teacher has left the studio which was taken over by Yogaworks, a company that has been expanding buy buying up well-established local studios in key areas and bringing its own particular brand to the art of the practice, both in yoga and in business. Luckily for me, a couple of the few Iyengar teachers are staying on for now, which means that I’ll get my money’s worth in terms of the pre-paid fees.

In addition, I’ll be following classes with my other teacher as well, and enjoying the movable feast that classes are, as we move form location to location, some funky, some fully equipped for the practice at hand. One place we practice in is a Masonic Lodge – a world apart from the yoga studio where we sat in the foyer, sipping hot tea among the racks of expensive yoga clothes and the New Age music piped in.   

So now, exhausted but feeling exhilarated, I am ready to call it a night. But what a thrill to have started the year falling backwards (albeit with a little help) into a full back bend (Urdhva-Dhanurasana) on the floor and just hang out in the pose for a minute.