Finally had a chance to attend a yoga class at Yogaworks' new South Bay studio. Plenty of parking, great feel, a multitude of offerings and two rooms for practice. I decided on the 6:00 a.m. Vinyasa Flow Level 2/3 with Kimberly Needham. Having not attended a rigorous practice since February and nursing a separated shoulder - I was a disaster!
Every time I would connect with my breath, loose myself in a pose or begin to melt into the mat, either my shoulder would scream out its dismay or my lapse in a dedicated practice would become painfully obvious. The result: Any slight connection to my breath would be given up to frustration. My own fault really - I have not allowed my shoulder to heal and I have done nothing more than meditate sporadically in the last two months.
As I settled into svanasana I realized that despite my struggle with the physical challenges , it was my mental focus and state of presence that had suffered the most decline. It wasn't the injury, it was the total abandonment of a consistent yoga and meditation practice. I guess Thursday morning I was ready to confront and understand the repercussions of deserting myself entirely.
Oh, how far we fall... It reminds me of when I was a rock climber. Dedicated to developing my finger strength and comfort with heights and exposure, I would spend three evenings a week at an indoor climbing gym and at least one weekend day outside on real rock. I was able to climb with grace and finesse and conserve energy by not wigging out when I moved up and beyond my protection. And then, slowly, I shifted on to other things, tended to life's little castrophes and began to climb infrequently. Now, when I do manage to spend a day climbing with friends I hear myself quantifying my current ability with "when I used to be a climber, I could ..."
Am I heading down this path with Yoga? "When I used to be a yogini, I could..." Hmmm, I don't think so. My practice has taken on new energy since Thursday. I think I was in need of being humbled and welcome it. A little taste of what might be lost is always a great motivator and makes a lasting impression.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
When you're on, you're on & when you're not...well, you recover.
I always get slightly nervous moments before I have to teach a yoga class. Not sure why - I have been teaching something or other for the last 10 years but yoga is different. I used to write a full sequence out an hour before teaching. I would include cues and weave a theme into them depending on what I wanted to focus on. Eventually I got away from having to rehearse prior to delivering the material asana by asana. It took up so much time. And in the end I found I only stuck to it for the first couple of poses anyway and winged the rest.
Nowadays, I come to the mat and class pretty open to what I see and feel. What needs to be released or attended to, or share something I read or discovered myself. Some days are better than others. The best days are when there is this tangible connection between me and my class. I get into the energy, they get into the energy and feed off each other, and I leave feeling as if I had participated in a lengthy and strenuous practice myself.
And then there are those others days, like this morning. Despite the space (less than ideal with thick wall-to-wall carpeting, mirrors on three walls and the disruptive sound of conversations by non-yogini's and yogi's), I just couldn't seem to settle in. The room was colder than usual and the heater blew loudly into one end of the studio overpowering my whirling sufi selection. It's trance-inducing-style lost in the drone of rumbling hot air in the ducts above . Ugh...I thought. I looked at the clock more than usual, moved through a heat-building standing sequence and quickly settled into twisting dragon. Still, no connection - not even with my breath or my voice, until finally it was over. Somewhat apologetically - and probably a bit unethical - I invited my sole practitioner to attend other classes I taught in the area.
As I drove home I started to think about a spin class I attended in Santa Monica this week. The teacher, popular in her own right, was subbing the time slot. There were about 10 of us in a room of 50 bikes. It didn't seem to phase her. She started a bit late, muddled through a couple of mixtapes finally settling on a climbing theme. This continued throughout the hour-long spin. Not a seamlessly presented class but I got a great workout, burned a few calories and was better for the effort. Truth is, I enjoyed the class even though it had this haphazard vibe the entire ride. She was herself, delivering a sucessful workout and unapologetic. Not sure if she was on or off - it didn't matter. I was in my head and feeling my gluts burn. Perhaps my sole practioner was doing the same and didn't even notice the things I found distruptive. Of course I have no control over the setting - it is what it is. But I can be myself, continue on and recover. Learning to stay in the moment rather than rushing to the end no matter what else is taking place, and realizing that others are probably doing the same.
Nowadays, I come to the mat and class pretty open to what I see and feel. What needs to be released or attended to, or share something I read or discovered myself. Some days are better than others. The best days are when there is this tangible connection between me and my class. I get into the energy, they get into the energy and feed off each other, and I leave feeling as if I had participated in a lengthy and strenuous practice myself.
And then there are those others days, like this morning. Despite the space (less than ideal with thick wall-to-wall carpeting, mirrors on three walls and the disruptive sound of conversations by non-yogini's and yogi's), I just couldn't seem to settle in. The room was colder than usual and the heater blew loudly into one end of the studio overpowering my whirling sufi selection. It's trance-inducing-style lost in the drone of rumbling hot air in the ducts above . Ugh...I thought. I looked at the clock more than usual, moved through a heat-building standing sequence and quickly settled into twisting dragon. Still, no connection - not even with my breath or my voice, until finally it was over. Somewhat apologetically - and probably a bit unethical - I invited my sole practitioner to attend other classes I taught in the area.
As I drove home I started to think about a spin class I attended in Santa Monica this week. The teacher, popular in her own right, was subbing the time slot. There were about 10 of us in a room of 50 bikes. It didn't seem to phase her. She started a bit late, muddled through a couple of mixtapes finally settling on a climbing theme. This continued throughout the hour-long spin. Not a seamlessly presented class but I got a great workout, burned a few calories and was better for the effort. Truth is, I enjoyed the class even though it had this haphazard vibe the entire ride. She was herself, delivering a sucessful workout and unapologetic. Not sure if she was on or off - it didn't matter. I was in my head and feeling my gluts burn. Perhaps my sole practioner was doing the same and didn't even notice the things I found distruptive. Of course I have no control over the setting - it is what it is. But I can be myself, continue on and recover. Learning to stay in the moment rather than rushing to the end no matter what else is taking place, and realizing that others are probably doing the same.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Why Nomadic Yogini?
Why Nomadic Yogini? First, Nomadic represents a wandering lifestyle - moving from place to place - yet deeply present and purposeful. Yogini is me - someone who practices yoga. The two together describe what drew me to the practice of yoga almost 13 years ago. When I first started I was drawn by the physical asana. The coordination of muscles in each pose and the transitions, and the sweating. I never noticed my breath and only was aware I needed to breath when my teacher mentioned it. It took me a bit of time before I understood my breath and its purpose. It was my initial connection with the physical asana that allowed me to connect with my body and eventually connect with my breath.
At present, I come to the mat with my struggle to develop a consistent personal practice. I also come to the mat through teaching a multi-level, community vinyasa class. And, I come to the mat by wandering from studio to studio, dropping in when I travel or when I need a day of directed, intense asana. With each - whether alone, watching my incredibly wonderful vinyasa class or attending someone elses - I learn. And in between the three, I learn too.
At present, I come to the mat with my struggle to develop a consistent personal practice. I also come to the mat through teaching a multi-level, community vinyasa class. And, I come to the mat by wandering from studio to studio, dropping in when I travel or when I need a day of directed, intense asana. With each - whether alone, watching my incredibly wonderful vinyasa class or attending someone elses - I learn. And in between the three, I learn too.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
