I am both tired and blissful at the same time. My body aches from backbending, both the backbends in Second Series and the drop backs that have become deeper in the last couple of weeks. Today my teacher put a hand on each ankle; I knew he would, and I reached softly into the pose, and I found some peace there. Only for a moment. But coming out of this pose is wild... During the first couple of hours, which include the finishing poses, my walk home, and my transition to work, my torso feels completely clear. No pain. The pain comes as the day progresses, as I sit in my chair at work, as my spine begins to settle back. The ache feels like the flu. It will take some time for me to find my way into and out of this pose and others without aches... Kapotasana is likely to help.
But the energy that is freed in these backbends is, without a doubt, still with me all day, into the night. It is, as I have been cautioned about Second Series, the energy that wakes me up from sleep and gives me bizarre dreams. Where has that energy been? I don't know...is it mine? Does it belong to something larger? Is it a gift?
The surprising aspect of this energy is that it is not a hyper energetic force — it doesn't make me want to run laps. Rather, it smoothes out all other energy — like melting down crayons. But instead of turning into black melted wax, it all becomes white liquid light. It draws the attention toward a safe space that seems to live behind the ego. It watches the ego...it drifts with the day.
My teacher has an article on Ashtanga.com that he wrote for Seattle Yoga in 2003. In the article he remembers Guruji's 2002 visit to Seattle and explains the power of Ashtanga as it influences our lives off the mat. He explains the symbiosis that happens between the practitioner and the undulations of life. He writes:
Guruji shows you that the grand procession of life will keep moving along. There's no time to hesitate, to falter, to languish or to pine away. The energy of the moment is always ready and available to lift you up and carry you along. You must become willing to let go, to merge into its ceaseless sweeping flow.
What I have experienced in these last few months of growing more dedicated to my practice is a softness, a kind of blending in. I have countless moments these days in which I wait for the sharp edge of my nerves to nick me, to make me want to snap...and it doesn't come. I wait to be hooked by one drama or another, and I turn my eyes away without regrets. I think this is what my teacher means when he talks about the "ceaseless sweeping flow" that carries the practitioner along; we begin to find the safe space between high and low, effort and release. Being "receptive," as he articulates it in practice, means letting the pose happen as the body works to make space for it. Attacking the pose will not free the energy, just as attacking one's environment — people, things — will not create healing or understanding.
Being receptive is a risk: of injury, hurt feelings, uncertainty. This is why a teacher is such a blessing...the teacher protects, encourages, guides. For that, and more, I am "thankful and blessed."
Works Cited
Garrigues, David. "The One-Year Anniversary: Pattabhi Jois in Seattle." Ashtanga Yoga. 2003. Web. 4 Feb. 2010.
How tough it is to share information from Mysore class when everyone is coming and going at different times--blogs are great!
ReplyDeleteI get this feeling, too, though it has changed as I have gone deeper into second series and deeper into backbends. I don't get it from doing the 2nd series backbends per se, even Kapotasana; I seem to get it only when grabbing ankles after drop-backs. And, like, you, I feel nothing for several hours; the discomfort begins to set in by lunchtime and then grows throughout the afternoon. The only thing I have found to relieve this is a reclining twist (as in Jathara Parivartanasana), entered gently but taken deeply. Taking this twist after practice to preempt the discomfort does not seem to work, though I feel like I should keep trying.
Perhaps I should ask the teacher about this (Is this typical?). But in this case, I somewhat enjoy struggling with and adapting to the practice. And I know I should feel weird after doing some of this stuff, especially at first. This is part of the practice, right?
As my practice develops, I notice many of these idiosyncracies, and I wonder: are these things we should discuss (on blogs or otherwise), or does that take away from the "practice [being] the teacher," as Sharath has said? Does mentioning issues like this turn people off from furthering their practice? How many people have heard of people having nightmares or body aches after 2nd series and quit Ashtanga or avoided it entirely, opting for a less potentially traumatic practice? How many have gone ahead with 2nd series and experienced the nightmares, the palpitations, the sleeplessness, or one of the other symptoms of the practice because they were warned about it? How much of it is real vs. a placebo effect?
Many questions, few answers.
Great post. To Frank's point second series is supposed to focus the energy on (and strengthen) the nervous system. I just always thought that the sleepless nights and pain were just part of the process no matter what series one is practicing. I think you both should consider brunch on Sunday's with us. Our small group could always use a few more and it gives us the opportunity (just like the blogs) to chat about the daily goings on.
ReplyDeleteFrank...
ReplyDeleteThank you for your thoughtful reflection on your practice.
You ask some compelling questions that, I think, get to a larger question about how visible we should make our experiences with practice, and about the implications of these blogs for those curious about and currently practicing yoga. I think blogs add to the mythology and the very real aspects of yoga that one must experience to belief. I find blogs to be an extension of some of the goals of the great texts on yoga: Yoga Mala, Gregor Maehle's two books, Desikachar's The Heart of Yoga. These texts, these narratives, do their best to offer guidance and capture the experience; to caution, to invite, to excite, and confess. And I think there is something yogic about sharing them — it's part of the connecting of oneness that is at the heart of the practice. It helps to cultivate common ground.
And then there is the other part — the part that we simply cannot articulate, though we try. What I find so wonderfully refreshing about our teacher is that he communicates so much in few words — and each of us seems to understand. So even though these blogs may go on and on, wrestling with language to articulate how we feel in and perceive the practice, there is something awfully mysterious in the vastness that we will never be able to explain, but still seem to understand...
Craig...
ReplyDeleteI think you're right -- there's no question that yoga, in its many iterations, re-orchestrates the subtleties of the body. It only makes sense that it would impact sleep. I can imagine that Yin Yoga, which aims to be more passive but is SO deep, can do a number on one's rest.
Thank you so much for including us in brunch...maybe a Sunday soon the babe and Daddy can have their own brunch and I can join you.
r