Ayurvedic Excitement in 2010!
Kate's Updated Workshop Schedule. Please see each school's site for exact times and prices.
COHASSET YOGA CENTER, COHASSET (south shore), Nov 13 10-12 and 1-4
http://www.cohassetyogacenter.com
with special guest Erin Casperson of South Shore Ayurveda
10-12 Hips and Shoulders, oh my!
1-4 Introduction to Ayurveda
SKIN OF THE YOGI: Natural Skin Care From Your Pantry
Back Bay Yoga, Friday Dec 3, 12-2
The chemical nature of most of the products available for body care is a problem for your health, and for your watershed. This workshop will beautify you AND the planet by teaching alternative ways of caring for skin and hair, using familiar ingredients which aren’t hard to come by. India’s ancient healing system of Ayurveda provided a sophisticated beauty regimen for royalty, using only ingredients found in nature. It’s time for you to treat yourself like royalty. This workshop is strategically scheduled at Christmas, because home facial kits make great gifts!
THE YOGA LIFESTYLE: HEALTHY HAPPY HOLIDAYS WITH AYURVEDA
SUNDAY – DECEMBER 5TH – 2-4PM – $30
at Samara Yoga in Davis Square
Learn Ayurvedic tips and tools to keep the balance this holiday season. We will cover how to maintain (or recover) digestive health through the holidays, yoga for digestion, how to be moderate without offending your hosts, healthy food and beverage recipes to stand in for the heavy ones.
Link it
http://samarayogastudio.com/workshops-and-events/
I am also available for private consultations, to support you in integrating Ayurveda into your personal and family life, to consider specific health and lifestyle concerns, and for individually structured cleansing programs. Please contact me through my website: www.ayurvedaboston.com
THE YOGA: I am an Ashtanga Yoga teacher Authorized by the K Pattabhi Jois Ashtanga Yoga Institute in Mysore (www.kpjayi.org) You can catch me in the yoga room at Back Bay Yoga
Monday nights 5:50- 7:20PM Ashtanga Level 1/2
Sunday Mysore style Ashtanga 8-10 AM
Mon-Thursday Mysore style Ashtanga 6-8:30 AM
Please note, tradition requires new students observe part of one Mysore class and commit to attending at least 3x/week before beginning to learn the practice. Students with existing practice are welcome at any time.
ABOUT ME: Kate O'Donnell began yoga by accident in South India at age 20. Over a decade of studying yoga and the wisdom traditions of India support Kate’s understanding of Ayurveda. Her personal healing with a doctor in Mysore, India led to a love for the ancient healing system and inspired her to pursue a certificate course at the Kripalu School of Ayurveda. Kate is a Certified Ayurvedic Consultant and Yoga Specialist, as well as an Authorized teacher of Ashtanga Yoga. Her Ayurvedic lifestyle intensives, diet, and yoga workshops in the Boston area aim to help others come closer to their true nature. Illuminating self-knowledge through Ayurveda, Yoga, and community keeps Kate inspired.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Saturday, July 03, 2010
June 30, 2010 Change and the Mind
I came more ready to change this time. There must be a surrender here, in so many ways. To the culture, the climate, the diet, the practice. “New asana, new pain” says Sharath.
There is certainly some newness going on. He walks my hands furthur up the legs in backbending this week than ever before. What is different is that I am not surprised. I used to be like “oh shit! He’s not! “ as he took each hand, gently, telling me to relax, and deepening the pose. This year, I know I am open before the pose comes. I know it is time and that everything else has lead up to this. I truly feel an all-encompassing moment of change at the culmination of every practice and because my time here is so short this year, and I don’t foresee when it will come again, I waste nothing of it.
I bring the mind back to the breath and release expectation. My spine is already shifting old patterns, before I even go back. I put all remaining efforts into keeping the barrel of the chest lifted, or else I am lost. I relax the arms completely and let him put them wherever; I take whatever part of the leg is there, hold the chest open, and bring the elbows as close to parallel as I can get them. The pain is in the shoulders, but I don’t push it so much. Shoulders are a different kind of pain, a sort of searing through the mind. Inside the wheel of that pose, I am in a vortex of sensation, of opposing forces, of faith and fear, of body and mind. I stand freely and find my breath, hanging on without gripping. I try to count 5 breaths.
Every day back bending is another story, another moment tells its own tale. I can feel consciousness slowly, with practice, expanding to take in more of that moment. I want to know every piece of it. Where are the eyes looking, what am I seeing? Is it painful or wonderful? Is there a sound inside? Can I feel the central channel? Can I move it with breath?
Yesterday, the story was this: the channel felt about 8 inches wide, going through my torso, a circle of blue light. When I drew my elbows in and settled into my legs, my center lit up and beamed. With breath, it got brighter. The mind comes in, fear is there, ahamkar pulls me up and out of there. Although some part of me wants to stay forever.
Is this what openness feels like? Why do I have to be in a deep backbend to feel it? I am trying to wrap my head around the truth I feel- some decision about change was already made months ago and this container, being in this place, in this stage of life, is allowing more openness. The name of the key has always been willingness. Coming home, the practice is to hold dear those moments where I touched something. No desire to repeat these moments, to escape what is, only to cherish the blessing of knowing it at all.
All the yoga until now has made me able to sense this, to know this place, to light it up consciously. I am one who wants to find the Lord through experiences of the body. It has always been so. As awareness deepens, I aspire to find it without…even…moving.
Meantime, so much energy is moving, I can’t sleep at night.
I came more ready to change this time. There must be a surrender here, in so many ways. To the culture, the climate, the diet, the practice. “New asana, new pain” says Sharath.
There is certainly some newness going on. He walks my hands furthur up the legs in backbending this week than ever before. What is different is that I am not surprised. I used to be like “oh shit! He’s not! “ as he took each hand, gently, telling me to relax, and deepening the pose. This year, I know I am open before the pose comes. I know it is time and that everything else has lead up to this. I truly feel an all-encompassing moment of change at the culmination of every practice and because my time here is so short this year, and I don’t foresee when it will come again, I waste nothing of it.
I bring the mind back to the breath and release expectation. My spine is already shifting old patterns, before I even go back. I put all remaining efforts into keeping the barrel of the chest lifted, or else I am lost. I relax the arms completely and let him put them wherever; I take whatever part of the leg is there, hold the chest open, and bring the elbows as close to parallel as I can get them. The pain is in the shoulders, but I don’t push it so much. Shoulders are a different kind of pain, a sort of searing through the mind. Inside the wheel of that pose, I am in a vortex of sensation, of opposing forces, of faith and fear, of body and mind. I stand freely and find my breath, hanging on without gripping. I try to count 5 breaths.
Every day back bending is another story, another moment tells its own tale. I can feel consciousness slowly, with practice, expanding to take in more of that moment. I want to know every piece of it. Where are the eyes looking, what am I seeing? Is it painful or wonderful? Is there a sound inside? Can I feel the central channel? Can I move it with breath?
Yesterday, the story was this: the channel felt about 8 inches wide, going through my torso, a circle of blue light. When I drew my elbows in and settled into my legs, my center lit up and beamed. With breath, it got brighter. The mind comes in, fear is there, ahamkar pulls me up and out of there. Although some part of me wants to stay forever.
Is this what openness feels like? Why do I have to be in a deep backbend to feel it? I am trying to wrap my head around the truth I feel- some decision about change was already made months ago and this container, being in this place, in this stage of life, is allowing more openness. The name of the key has always been willingness. Coming home, the practice is to hold dear those moments where I touched something. No desire to repeat these moments, to escape what is, only to cherish the blessing of knowing it at all.
All the yoga until now has made me able to sense this, to know this place, to light it up consciously. I am one who wants to find the Lord through experiences of the body. It has always been so. As awareness deepens, I aspire to find it without…even…moving.
Meantime, so much energy is moving, I can’t sleep at night.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
I took the opportunity to ask Sharath in his office yesterday if, after the few days of teaching I did here, he trusted me to represent this tradition. “Yes”, he said, “and so much will come from experience. But fundamentals must be same.” I believe he is calling us here to teach the fundamentals. In concrete terms, the fundamentals are drishti, gazing points; asana, posture; vinyasa, breathing system.
Drishti: Each posture has a point on which to fix the eyes. We must be familiar with the points specific to each asana and have the presence of mind to bust students on incorrect gazing. When the mind goes outside the practice, the eyes go outside the body. The sense organs, eyes ears nose mouth skin, are always going in search of objects for sensing. These organs are designed to be busy, bringing in information about the environment, which is important, yet yoga seeks to reign it in so the unconscious action of attention going outward becomes something we are aware of and can contain or utilize at will. Drishti trains the mind, increases focus. I find drishti to be an effective tool that is not often found in many yoga classes.
The vinyasa are fundamental to this practice and might be considered Krishnamachrya’s greatest gift to modern yoga. Vinyasa is a sequence of postures, practiced with specific technique, building up to performance of the main asana. In India, the word “performance” is used. We don’t “do yoga”, we “perform asana.” Performance implies practice and technique. It’s very scientific, the vinyasa, and Guruji was a scientist. That is why he called his Mysore shala the Ashtanga Yoga Reasearch Institute. He and Sharath have done a lot of research on the techniques of the specific vinyasas they are teaching. Sharath is sharing, as a fundamental knowledge of the Ashtanga system, not only what the sequences are (and these can easily be found on the internet) but what the technique is to help students achieve the desired effect of the main asana. The main Primary asanas, Marichasana D, Kurmasana, Baddhakonasana, and backbending must be understood in the context of an entire hour and a half practice which supports systematic, sequential performance. Each of the poses has a therapeutic benefit, generally relating to digestion, circulation, or nervous system (which make even more sense now that I am studying the Ayurveda). The postures are not effective without an understanding of the desired effect, which comes naturally with practice and everyone in the course this month has been studying here at least 8 years.
Correct breathing in the practice is another fundamental. We are instructed to listen to our students' breath. The technique of Ujaayi breathing is audible and it becomes obvious if a student, or oneself, is not breathing correctly. Inhale and exhale breath should be equal. Otherwise, the practice will exacerbate an imbalance of the pranas (circulations of vital energy in the body). When a student is not focused, angry, or afraid, this shows up in the breath. Through control of the breath, the mental disturbance is calmed. Learning to focus the mind on the breath, instead of all the information coming through the senses (including sensation in the body due to the asana) is THE key to the practice of Ashtanga yoga. Everybody knows Ashtangis are all about the breath, and this is why.
So these are some fundamentals, already commonly known. But to be busted mercilessly (they say Sharath is a Libra, but there must be some Scorpio going on!) on our own slip ups, whether we are practicing or teaching here, has again brought the fundamentals to the forefront. It doesn’t really matter how challenging the asana sequence is, the work of training the mind, containing senses, and smoothing emotion- all the while achieving therapeutic benefits, is present even in daily practice of the Suryanamaskar. It is up to each individual to know how far they want to go with this yoga, what is the personal goal. One might be happy with a 30 minute practice, if this is the attention span for drishti, asana, and breath. Slowly, slowly, our capacity to do longer, more demanding practice increases due to our modest daily efforts.
As for the “so much” that comes with experience, there is knowing how best to help each student perform a difficult asana correctly, knowing within a few weeks what fundamental is most challenging for each and creating an environment where individuals can master that challenge, then moving into the next.
Drishti: Each posture has a point on which to fix the eyes. We must be familiar with the points specific to each asana and have the presence of mind to bust students on incorrect gazing. When the mind goes outside the practice, the eyes go outside the body. The sense organs, eyes ears nose mouth skin, are always going in search of objects for sensing. These organs are designed to be busy, bringing in information about the environment, which is important, yet yoga seeks to reign it in so the unconscious action of attention going outward becomes something we are aware of and can contain or utilize at will. Drishti trains the mind, increases focus. I find drishti to be an effective tool that is not often found in many yoga classes.
The vinyasa are fundamental to this practice and might be considered Krishnamachrya’s greatest gift to modern yoga. Vinyasa is a sequence of postures, practiced with specific technique, building up to performance of the main asana. In India, the word “performance” is used. We don’t “do yoga”, we “perform asana.” Performance implies practice and technique. It’s very scientific, the vinyasa, and Guruji was a scientist. That is why he called his Mysore shala the Ashtanga Yoga Reasearch Institute. He and Sharath have done a lot of research on the techniques of the specific vinyasas they are teaching. Sharath is sharing, as a fundamental knowledge of the Ashtanga system, not only what the sequences are (and these can easily be found on the internet) but what the technique is to help students achieve the desired effect of the main asana. The main Primary asanas, Marichasana D, Kurmasana, Baddhakonasana, and backbending must be understood in the context of an entire hour and a half practice which supports systematic, sequential performance. Each of the poses has a therapeutic benefit, generally relating to digestion, circulation, or nervous system (which make even more sense now that I am studying the Ayurveda). The postures are not effective without an understanding of the desired effect, which comes naturally with practice and everyone in the course this month has been studying here at least 8 years.
Correct breathing in the practice is another fundamental. We are instructed to listen to our students' breath. The technique of Ujaayi breathing is audible and it becomes obvious if a student, or oneself, is not breathing correctly. Inhale and exhale breath should be equal. Otherwise, the practice will exacerbate an imbalance of the pranas (circulations of vital energy in the body). When a student is not focused, angry, or afraid, this shows up in the breath. Through control of the breath, the mental disturbance is calmed. Learning to focus the mind on the breath, instead of all the information coming through the senses (including sensation in the body due to the asana) is THE key to the practice of Ashtanga yoga. Everybody knows Ashtangis are all about the breath, and this is why.
So these are some fundamentals, already commonly known. But to be busted mercilessly (they say Sharath is a Libra, but there must be some Scorpio going on!) on our own slip ups, whether we are practicing or teaching here, has again brought the fundamentals to the forefront. It doesn’t really matter how challenging the asana sequence is, the work of training the mind, containing senses, and smoothing emotion- all the while achieving therapeutic benefits, is present even in daily practice of the Suryanamaskar. It is up to each individual to know how far they want to go with this yoga, what is the personal goal. One might be happy with a 30 minute practice, if this is the attention span for drishti, asana, and breath. Slowly, slowly, our capacity to do longer, more demanding practice increases due to our modest daily efforts.
As for the “so much” that comes with experience, there is knowing how best to help each student perform a difficult asana correctly, knowing within a few weeks what fundamental is most challenging for each and creating an environment where individuals can master that challenge, then moving into the next.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
MYSORE BLOGS 2010, TEACHER TRAINING
Ah, the familiar sounds of the Bapuji Children’s Home at 6AM. My first morning on Indian soil, I am awakened by the slapping sound of the laundry woman. An item is soaked, swung in circles above the head and brought down with gusto against the washing stone in the courtyard just opposite my second-story flat. And repeat: soak, swing, slap.
Next sound, the banging of the water pump, an old rusty metal lever which takes two hands to maneuver. A few bangs up and down, and the small bucket is filled. Soak, swish, swing, slap, bang. Repeat. The lever is screeching- they need to oil that thing. The chorus of children’s voices gets more complex as the crew wakes up. I look to see a girl of 4 or 5 years standing in a pink foofy dress staring at a little boy in the dirt.
The birds. What is that one sounding like a Cukoo? Every time I hear it, I am transported to Auroville where I first landed in India 12 years ago. I must admit, the transport back in time unsettles me, as the sound of that particular bird. Rev of a motor bike. Later, the fruit cart man yelling to announce his wares as he crosses through each neighborhood of Gokulum, third stage. Two-stroke diesel engine of a rick-shaw passing.
Ten Am, after practice (feelin good after the first few Suryanamaskar, except I can’t hold my balance), its still relatively quiet. Beep of a horn, ding of a bicycle bell. Flip flops on the street beneath the window. I am listening to the water boiling in the kitchen. I will let the pot cool down and have some drinking water until I contemplate putting on the shawl and heading out to see Swami, the tailor who also delivers 10 gallon water jugs, even up the stairs, sweating.
Speaking of sweating, it’s quite humid here. The sky has cleared up; I get anxious to do some washing so it may actually dry on the line. I get excited to do a lot of things, but I sit here instead, pacing myself.
I’d love to go through the smells with you and tell you of the variety, but my face feels swollen to double and I can’t smell much but a bit of must. The taxi ride from Bangalore to Mysore is not good for the sinus, no matter how much oil I put inside my nostrils. I must have wiped it out and reapplied half a dozen times yesterday.
Oh wait- I smell something, if I put my nose to the window. Cooking. Smells like vegetable oil frying. Heaviest breakfast on earth around here. It might be that time.
Ah, the familiar sounds of the Bapuji Children’s Home at 6AM. My first morning on Indian soil, I am awakened by the slapping sound of the laundry woman. An item is soaked, swung in circles above the head and brought down with gusto against the washing stone in the courtyard just opposite my second-story flat. And repeat: soak, swing, slap.
Next sound, the banging of the water pump, an old rusty metal lever which takes two hands to maneuver. A few bangs up and down, and the small bucket is filled. Soak, swish, swing, slap, bang. Repeat. The lever is screeching- they need to oil that thing. The chorus of children’s voices gets more complex as the crew wakes up. I look to see a girl of 4 or 5 years standing in a pink foofy dress staring at a little boy in the dirt.
The birds. What is that one sounding like a Cukoo? Every time I hear it, I am transported to Auroville where I first landed in India 12 years ago. I must admit, the transport back in time unsettles me, as the sound of that particular bird. Rev of a motor bike. Later, the fruit cart man yelling to announce his wares as he crosses through each neighborhood of Gokulum, third stage. Two-stroke diesel engine of a rick-shaw passing.
Ten Am, after practice (feelin good after the first few Suryanamaskar, except I can’t hold my balance), its still relatively quiet. Beep of a horn, ding of a bicycle bell. Flip flops on the street beneath the window. I am listening to the water boiling in the kitchen. I will let the pot cool down and have some drinking water until I contemplate putting on the shawl and heading out to see Swami, the tailor who also delivers 10 gallon water jugs, even up the stairs, sweating.
Speaking of sweating, it’s quite humid here. The sky has cleared up; I get anxious to do some washing so it may actually dry on the line. I get excited to do a lot of things, but I sit here instead, pacing myself.
I’d love to go through the smells with you and tell you of the variety, but my face feels swollen to double and I can’t smell much but a bit of must. The taxi ride from Bangalore to Mysore is not good for the sinus, no matter how much oil I put inside my nostrils. I must have wiped it out and reapplied half a dozen times yesterday.
Oh wait- I smell something, if I put my nose to the window. Cooking. Smells like vegetable oil frying. Heaviest breakfast on earth around here. It might be that time.
Namaste from Mothership Mysore!
The school children are still screaming, rick-shaws careening, and dahls frying out here on the Indian sub-continent. It feels as though I was just here. I unpacked the sarees and salwars from my trunk, along with local flip flops, a few stainless mugs, and some towels. Banging my laundry on the roof again, feels like home.
It is a blessing to be in a smaller group here with Sharath, all are teachers and it’s some serious comraderie. We are a family, united in representing this tradition of yoga. I am really seeing how so much of the yoga routine comes from a traditional Brahmin household. For instance, it is one’s duty to chant, one is raised to do it. I ended up at the notary with my landlord (now, that’s a whole different story, which will make its way to the blog, along with others when the politics clear up) for the officiating of a document. The two started speaking in Kannada and I could discern they were discussing their Japa practice of the Gayatri, 108 times in the AM. I was loving how a political meeting was laced with mantra.
The yoga students, we all sit around at mealtimes and discuss our students, our home places, our schedules, our bowel movements (just kidding- we’ve all been here enough we don’t even need to talk about poop anymore). I am always reminded that I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for YOU back bay ashtangis. I think of you daily. Your respect and faith for the yoga work, your dedication to the evolution of consciousness, inspires me to forge ahead. Teaching with you has brought me great respect for moderation, softness, and patience, all things I needed.
But ah, it’s so nice to just wake up and go to the shala for my own practice every day and get adjustments. It is heartening to find that my being is still opening despite having a daily teaching commitment. Perhaps even because of it. The practice is a bicycle we never forget how to ride. Trust me, its true, its always been true, even when we think we will never bind that Mareechasana again.
The school children are still screaming, rick-shaws careening, and dahls frying out here on the Indian sub-continent. It feels as though I was just here. I unpacked the sarees and salwars from my trunk, along with local flip flops, a few stainless mugs, and some towels. Banging my laundry on the roof again, feels like home.
It is a blessing to be in a smaller group here with Sharath, all are teachers and it’s some serious comraderie. We are a family, united in representing this tradition of yoga. I am really seeing how so much of the yoga routine comes from a traditional Brahmin household. For instance, it is one’s duty to chant, one is raised to do it. I ended up at the notary with my landlord (now, that’s a whole different story, which will make its way to the blog, along with others when the politics clear up) for the officiating of a document. The two started speaking in Kannada and I could discern they were discussing their Japa practice of the Gayatri, 108 times in the AM. I was loving how a political meeting was laced with mantra.
The yoga students, we all sit around at mealtimes and discuss our students, our home places, our schedules, our bowel movements (just kidding- we’ve all been here enough we don’t even need to talk about poop anymore). I am always reminded that I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for YOU back bay ashtangis. I think of you daily. Your respect and faith for the yoga work, your dedication to the evolution of consciousness, inspires me to forge ahead. Teaching with you has brought me great respect for moderation, softness, and patience, all things I needed.
But ah, it’s so nice to just wake up and go to the shala for my own practice every day and get adjustments. It is heartening to find that my being is still opening despite having a daily teaching commitment. Perhaps even because of it. The practice is a bicycle we never forget how to ride. Trust me, its true, its always been true, even when we think we will never bind that Mareechasana again.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
For those of you who were at the Intro to Ayurveda workshop at Back Bay Yoga, thanks for your interest! There will be opportunities to grow together in the Ayurvedic study and practice. Beginning with a week-end in October 16&17 focused on the much-promised fall cleanse. Followed by Friday afternoon workshops on the Ayurvedic Kitchen and Ayurvedic Skin Care, Nov 12 and Dec 10. All are at Back Bay Yoga, stay tuned for more workshops at other locations.
I will be heading to India for June and you can expect to see a blog once a week while I am there.
As mentioned, the link to learn about the Namarupa pilgrimage to North india THIS september! Join us... http://www.namarupa.org/yatra/yatra10.php
And (TaDa!) here is the recipe I promised for Ayurveda's most digestible food- Kichari, a rice and dahl soup.
Remember this: Food and the act of eating is sacred. Sit down; connect with your meals. Chew. Relax. Enjoy.
Kichari:
1 c. Basmati Rice
½ c. mung dahl (Split mung dahl is yellow color and can be purchased at Asian and Indian groceries. If it has added coloring, rinse double well in cold water and soak for a few hours before cooking, or overnight)
1 c steamed vegetables of your choice (one at a time)
1 Tbsp ghee
1 tsp each as you like, whole or powdered: cumin seed, fresh ginger, fennel seed, coriander, turmeric, salt.
Fresh cilantro (optional)
Cook the rice and dahl together with 6 c. water. White rice takes about 20 min. On the side sauté the spices in the ghee (except turmeric, you just add this one at the end) a few minutes, until you can smell them. Don’t burn your spices. These will be added along with salt before eating. If the veggies steam quickly you can throw them in with the grains and spices, stir with fork and cover for the last 5 minutes of grain time. If they are longer cooking, cook them on the side and add in with the spices for the last 5 minutes.
I will be heading to India for June and you can expect to see a blog once a week while I am there.
As mentioned, the link to learn about the Namarupa pilgrimage to North india THIS september! Join us... http://www.namarupa.org/yatra/yatra10.php
And (TaDa!) here is the recipe I promised for Ayurveda's most digestible food- Kichari, a rice and dahl soup.
Remember this: Food and the act of eating is sacred. Sit down; connect with your meals. Chew. Relax. Enjoy.
Kichari:
1 c. Basmati Rice
½ c. mung dahl (Split mung dahl is yellow color and can be purchased at Asian and Indian groceries. If it has added coloring, rinse double well in cold water and soak for a few hours before cooking, or overnight)
1 c steamed vegetables of your choice (one at a time)
1 Tbsp ghee
1 tsp each as you like, whole or powdered: cumin seed, fresh ginger, fennel seed, coriander, turmeric, salt.
Fresh cilantro (optional)
Cook the rice and dahl together with 6 c. water. White rice takes about 20 min. On the side sauté the spices in the ghee (except turmeric, you just add this one at the end) a few minutes, until you can smell them. Don’t burn your spices. These will be added along with salt before eating. If the veggies steam quickly you can throw them in with the grains and spices, stir with fork and cover for the last 5 minutes of grain time. If they are longer cooking, cook them on the side and add in with the spices for the last 5 minutes.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Get Real. A Month-Long Lifestyle Intensive with Kate at Back Bay Yoga. In effect Oct 10-31. Meeting 4 Saturday mornings 8:30-11:30. Oct 10, 17, 24 and 31. We will be using this blogspot as our on-line support space. Comment on this posting to ask questions, offer advice, rejoice, complain, and whatever else may come up during the month. I will be checking in daily. Om!
Blog on Kripalu School of Ayurveda Experience
Ayur: Life. Veda: Sacred knowledge.
There has been some curiosity about what is going on while I am away at Kripalu, and the School of Ayurveda there. Sparing you the details of the inevitable personal transformation during the 2-week residence at a yoga center, I will attempt to fill you in. This is actually the 5th class they will graduate, on an annual basis. There are 55 people in the group with me (51 are women). We head to Kripalu for a pair of two-week stints this fall: Foundations of Ayurveda. After the New Year, most of us will continue on to 4 more 9-day segments, working towards a Certificate in Ayurvedic Counseling. Seems pretty quick to me to go from foundation to “certificate”.
It still plugs me in when people ask me where I did my teacher training upon hearing that I teach yoga. What is this phenomenon? Because of the label Kripalu was using to sell their program, I never considered it. I was lucky enough to get personal advice from Dr Robert Svoboda, the first westerner to receive a degree in Ayurveda in India, expecting to take off for India again on his advice (just in time for winter!). He me to go to Kripalu! So without thinking too much about it, I signed up, and Stephanie and Dominic have been generous in teaching for me while I am away so much this fall. Same goes for the steady group of students at BBY, who obviously know the practice is the teacher, because the “teacher” keeps leaving!
I asked our first presenter Dr. David Frawley (History and Philosophy unit) what he thought about the certificate business and he said: At least the knowledge is getting out there. We don’t need to be afraid of Ayurveda; its very simple changes in the beginning that can turn someone’s life around. He is right. I could tell you (and I’m telling you right now) not to drink iced beverages with meals, and this could save you from a lifetime of digestional dis-ease. Simple.
Ayurveda seems to have chosen me. I knew it a year ago with the Lifestyle Intensive in the fall- students were so into the Ayurveda. The same way it came to me with the yoga in 1998- like someone took a cloth and rubbed the patina off my brain. The shining result: Ayurveda. I value much the quality of tradition so much alive in India, and so little a part of our culture in this baby of a country, which is why I asked Dr. Svoboda for a trustworthy direction to start what is, of course, a lifelong study. After ten years, the yoga studies seem ready to share the stage with their sister system, Ayurveda.
We began with, in addition to Dr Frawley, Dr P. Chauhan and his brother Satya Naranyan Das from North India. They have founded institutes there for the study of Sanskrit and Ayurveda. The Jiva Institute (jiva.com) has an affiliation with Kripalu School of Ayurveda. The brothers covered Introductory Sanskrit, Anatomy and Philosophy. Dr. John Doulliard from Boulder covered Ayurvedic Lifestyle, and the pulse (a medical/mystical tool for self-knowledge and diagnosis). A team of local Ayurvedic practitioners came in and out as well. They packed us full from 6:30 AM to 9PM with a simple exam on our last night (guess who got 100%?). I took my hour at dinner to do a half-series of Ashtanga pretty much every day, unless there was something delicious happening in the dining hall. Next session includes Ayurvedic Psychology, Yoga and Ayurveda, and Herbology.
It’s difficult to summarize after hours and hours of learning, what to voice as my current impression of Ayurveda. It is the essence of Holistic. Like the yoga, the purpose of the science is to bring individual into balance with the universe. While these two systems find their roots in the esotera of India’s philosophy, they are delightfully practical paths to harmony. Any road you turn down in the study of Ayurveda is a path to Higher Self, and the organization of the system makes it impossible to forget. For example, the Anatomy of Ayurveda includes not only tissues and body parts, but also soul, mind, and emotions. Most of the time, dis-ease is manifested in the physical body, but seated in the subtle body. Again, like the yoga, balance begins with the gross (physical). This being, what you put in your mouth and when. Food, and the rhythms of nature, are the medicine.
My self-study of the past five years is now enriched and guided by a team of teachers who live the lifestyle. Students are given homework such as rise before the sun, do your yoga first thing, main meal at lunchtime, bed before 10 (sound familiar Ashtangis?). I think I get 100% on that exam too : ) Then, of course, there is the reading. The first book I read on Ayurveda was Frawley’s Yoga and Ayurveda, it’s a short read, if you are looking for something.
This year’s BBY Lifestyle Intensive starts in 2 weeks, meeting on Saturday mornings from 8-11 for one month. We will be doing personalized Ayurvedic lifestyle experiments throughout the month, working with food, oleation, pranayama, asana, meditation, and on-going internet support. Not to forget Integration of practices into daily life. If Ayurveda interests you, or you feel out of balance, please join the group, sign up link is below. I hope we can all benefit from another of India’s wisdom traditions, Ayurveda! I can organize materials for you to participate if you are unable to come to one session out of the four. http://clients.mindbodyonline.com/ws.asp?studioid=936&stype=-8&sTrn=100000064
Ayur: Life. Veda: Sacred knowledge.
There has been some curiosity about what is going on while I am away at Kripalu, and the School of Ayurveda there. Sparing you the details of the inevitable personal transformation during the 2-week residence at a yoga center, I will attempt to fill you in. This is actually the 5th class they will graduate, on an annual basis. There are 55 people in the group with me (51 are women). We head to Kripalu for a pair of two-week stints this fall: Foundations of Ayurveda. After the New Year, most of us will continue on to 4 more 9-day segments, working towards a Certificate in Ayurvedic Counseling. Seems pretty quick to me to go from foundation to “certificate”.
It still plugs me in when people ask me where I did my teacher training upon hearing that I teach yoga. What is this phenomenon? Because of the label Kripalu was using to sell their program, I never considered it. I was lucky enough to get personal advice from Dr Robert Svoboda, the first westerner to receive a degree in Ayurveda in India, expecting to take off for India again on his advice (just in time for winter!). He me to go to Kripalu! So without thinking too much about it, I signed up, and Stephanie and Dominic have been generous in teaching for me while I am away so much this fall. Same goes for the steady group of students at BBY, who obviously know the practice is the teacher, because the “teacher” keeps leaving!
I asked our first presenter Dr. David Frawley (History and Philosophy unit) what he thought about the certificate business and he said: At least the knowledge is getting out there. We don’t need to be afraid of Ayurveda; its very simple changes in the beginning that can turn someone’s life around. He is right. I could tell you (and I’m telling you right now) not to drink iced beverages with meals, and this could save you from a lifetime of digestional dis-ease. Simple.
Ayurveda seems to have chosen me. I knew it a year ago with the Lifestyle Intensive in the fall- students were so into the Ayurveda. The same way it came to me with the yoga in 1998- like someone took a cloth and rubbed the patina off my brain. The shining result: Ayurveda. I value much the quality of tradition so much alive in India, and so little a part of our culture in this baby of a country, which is why I asked Dr. Svoboda for a trustworthy direction to start what is, of course, a lifelong study. After ten years, the yoga studies seem ready to share the stage with their sister system, Ayurveda.
We began with, in addition to Dr Frawley, Dr P. Chauhan and his brother Satya Naranyan Das from North India. They have founded institutes there for the study of Sanskrit and Ayurveda. The Jiva Institute (jiva.com) has an affiliation with Kripalu School of Ayurveda. The brothers covered Introductory Sanskrit, Anatomy and Philosophy. Dr. John Doulliard from Boulder covered Ayurvedic Lifestyle, and the pulse (a medical/mystical tool for self-knowledge and diagnosis). A team of local Ayurvedic practitioners came in and out as well. They packed us full from 6:30 AM to 9PM with a simple exam on our last night (guess who got 100%?). I took my hour at dinner to do a half-series of Ashtanga pretty much every day, unless there was something delicious happening in the dining hall. Next session includes Ayurvedic Psychology, Yoga and Ayurveda, and Herbology.
It’s difficult to summarize after hours and hours of learning, what to voice as my current impression of Ayurveda. It is the essence of Holistic. Like the yoga, the purpose of the science is to bring individual into balance with the universe. While these two systems find their roots in the esotera of India’s philosophy, they are delightfully practical paths to harmony. Any road you turn down in the study of Ayurveda is a path to Higher Self, and the organization of the system makes it impossible to forget. For example, the Anatomy of Ayurveda includes not only tissues and body parts, but also soul, mind, and emotions. Most of the time, dis-ease is manifested in the physical body, but seated in the subtle body. Again, like the yoga, balance begins with the gross (physical). This being, what you put in your mouth and when. Food, and the rhythms of nature, are the medicine.
My self-study of the past five years is now enriched and guided by a team of teachers who live the lifestyle. Students are given homework such as rise before the sun, do your yoga first thing, main meal at lunchtime, bed before 10 (sound familiar Ashtangis?). I think I get 100% on that exam too : ) Then, of course, there is the reading. The first book I read on Ayurveda was Frawley’s Yoga and Ayurveda, it’s a short read, if you are looking for something.
This year’s BBY Lifestyle Intensive starts in 2 weeks, meeting on Saturday mornings from 8-11 for one month. We will be doing personalized Ayurvedic lifestyle experiments throughout the month, working with food, oleation, pranayama, asana, meditation, and on-going internet support. Not to forget Integration of practices into daily life. If Ayurveda interests you, or you feel out of balance, please join the group, sign up link is below. I hope we can all benefit from another of India’s wisdom traditions, Ayurveda! I can organize materials for you to participate if you are unable to come to one session out of the four. http://clients.mindbodyonline.com/ws.asp?studioid=936&stype=-8&sTrn=100000064
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Gokulum Road Vignettes
A blanket wallah bobs along the uneven road. His cycle is stacked with two bushels of blankets tied with rope, towering beyond his head. Tassled ends splay out of the bundle which is, against all odds, bumping and listing without being tied down to the rack on the back of the cycle. I watch him bounce over monsoon-sized potholes, graceful in the way the whole unit- man, cycle, and blankets teeter on the edge of possibility in motion. Typical. If I wanted to buy a blanket, I would certainly holler him to wait and come down from my rooftop to check his wares. Is the quality matching the price?
A family of four on a Kawasaki, stacked like books end to end, ride along the main road on the way to some Friday night affair. Dad mans the handlebars, Mom is on the back, riding side-saddle. A 6-ish year old is sandwiched between them, and a toddler in Mom’s arms. The string of jasmine in her hair whips behind them, she fixes her saree with one hand, holds the child with the other. The one in the middle peeks from between Mom’s breast and Dad’s flapping shirt back, legs sticking out the side like stray hairs from a braid. Dad is concentrating.
A rick-shaw honks at me and I jump onto the dirt. Screaming school children, at least eight, jumbled in the single arm-chair sized space, hang from the bars, yelling “hello foreigner!” School bags are crowded in piles on a hook on the side of the little yellow vehicle. A crush of white and blue knee socks, black braids, and little scuffed shoes go careening by me in a screaming splendor. Look out. When it comes to school kids, the rick-shaw drivers make no compromise. No amount of money can draw them from their commitment to picking up the masses of children. No obstacle in the path will be tolerated on the bumpy journey home. Including wandering yoga students.
The sun goes down and the oil temperature goes up. If you can fry it, you can serve it. The potato chip wallah sets up road side. The dust that fills my eyes and nose inevitably seasons the fry oil. Hand-sliced thins drop into a wok about 5 feet in diameter, balanced on an oil drum with fire inside. A skimmer twice as big as a dinner plate trolls the wok to draw up dripping wedges for the pile of fresh crisps. Served on a paper-thin plate that drips grease through onto your hand (better yours than mine- I don’t eat the chips dude). Next door the Puri wallah has a four-foot high sculpture of tiny, golden flying saucers arranged in a tube-shaped tower with the condiments at the center. The flatbreads are fried to a circle shape and served chat-style. Four puri are plated, the centers of the flying saucers are smushed, filled with tamarind and yogurt, then the four circles are smothered with raw onions, little fried vermicelli pieces, and chopped cilantro. Another cart down we have the Chinese Fried Rice wallah, green coconuts chopped open and served with a straw.
In the heat of an after school afternoon, the Mahaveera ice cream cart jingles along a neighborhood side street. Salmon colored wafer cones in a long bag sway from the top of the cart. Plastic jars, almost empty, cook contents in the sun. A mash green like candied Christmas cherries, something red as marashcino, some brown-color chunky gravy completely indistinguishable. Dusty plastic buckets, the same variety I have in the bathroom for trash, are lined up on the cart, covered with metal plates. A few sticky spoons strewn about. Oh man.
A lorry with a bed full of plastic chairs, stacked a story high, negotiates the road. Bright blue, red, and white chairs high as the eye can see and a man standing among them to control the stacks. A circular label on a chair-back: “Plastics for a Better World!”
A blanket wallah bobs along the uneven road. His cycle is stacked with two bushels of blankets tied with rope, towering beyond his head. Tassled ends splay out of the bundle which is, against all odds, bumping and listing without being tied down to the rack on the back of the cycle. I watch him bounce over monsoon-sized potholes, graceful in the way the whole unit- man, cycle, and blankets teeter on the edge of possibility in motion. Typical. If I wanted to buy a blanket, I would certainly holler him to wait and come down from my rooftop to check his wares. Is the quality matching the price?
A family of four on a Kawasaki, stacked like books end to end, ride along the main road on the way to some Friday night affair. Dad mans the handlebars, Mom is on the back, riding side-saddle. A 6-ish year old is sandwiched between them, and a toddler in Mom’s arms. The string of jasmine in her hair whips behind them, she fixes her saree with one hand, holds the child with the other. The one in the middle peeks from between Mom’s breast and Dad’s flapping shirt back, legs sticking out the side like stray hairs from a braid. Dad is concentrating.
A rick-shaw honks at me and I jump onto the dirt. Screaming school children, at least eight, jumbled in the single arm-chair sized space, hang from the bars, yelling “hello foreigner!” School bags are crowded in piles on a hook on the side of the little yellow vehicle. A crush of white and blue knee socks, black braids, and little scuffed shoes go careening by me in a screaming splendor. Look out. When it comes to school kids, the rick-shaw drivers make no compromise. No amount of money can draw them from their commitment to picking up the masses of children. No obstacle in the path will be tolerated on the bumpy journey home. Including wandering yoga students.
The sun goes down and the oil temperature goes up. If you can fry it, you can serve it. The potato chip wallah sets up road side. The dust that fills my eyes and nose inevitably seasons the fry oil. Hand-sliced thins drop into a wok about 5 feet in diameter, balanced on an oil drum with fire inside. A skimmer twice as big as a dinner plate trolls the wok to draw up dripping wedges for the pile of fresh crisps. Served on a paper-thin plate that drips grease through onto your hand (better yours than mine- I don’t eat the chips dude). Next door the Puri wallah has a four-foot high sculpture of tiny, golden flying saucers arranged in a tube-shaped tower with the condiments at the center. The flatbreads are fried to a circle shape and served chat-style. Four puri are plated, the centers of the flying saucers are smushed, filled with tamarind and yogurt, then the four circles are smothered with raw onions, little fried vermicelli pieces, and chopped cilantro. Another cart down we have the Chinese Fried Rice wallah, green coconuts chopped open and served with a straw.
In the heat of an after school afternoon, the Mahaveera ice cream cart jingles along a neighborhood side street. Salmon colored wafer cones in a long bag sway from the top of the cart. Plastic jars, almost empty, cook contents in the sun. A mash green like candied Christmas cherries, something red as marashcino, some brown-color chunky gravy completely indistinguishable. Dusty plastic buckets, the same variety I have in the bathroom for trash, are lined up on the cart, covered with metal plates. A few sticky spoons strewn about. Oh man.
A lorry with a bed full of plastic chairs, stacked a story high, negotiates the road. Bright blue, red, and white chairs high as the eye can see and a man standing among them to control the stacks. A circular label on a chair-back: “Plastics for a Better World!”
Idly is the yogis’ fave. Although there is a sad contingent who eat only western style foods here, south Indian breakfast is worth flying here for! A batter is made of rice and a certain type of lentil which is then steamed and served with coconut chutney and sambhar, a spicy tomato based soup with random veggies in it. Idly is usually only served until 10:30 or 11. Thali happens from 12-3. This is a food combining nightmare consisting of a mountain of rice surrounded by little cups of mushy veggies, more sambhar, yoghurt (called curd- yoghurt is actually “set curd”), a “sweet” which is usually a kheer (rice pudding), one or two chapatti, like a wheat tortilla, and papadam, a fried crispy wafer-like circle made of lentil flour. Dinner is a dream that exists in the lives of those who get up later 3 AM. I think I remember something called dinner…
“First batch” is at at 4:45 Shala Time, which is 15 minutes fast, so we show up at 4:30. Sharath told us at conference this week that he used to ride the motorbike to downtown, 15 or 20 minutes, every morning at 3AM to practice. I suppose I can’t complain (moan). Last night there was a wedding in the neighborhood with extremely loud Bollywood style music until they blew the PA around midnight. So I slept 2 hours.
Coming in to practice at 4:30, the room is having more of the advanced practitioners, people who’ve been here a while, and mosquitoes. Your start time gets earlier as you stay. It’s very quiet but for the breath. Today a man fell out of a balancing pose and Sharath jokes “ don’t break my picture!” There is a photo of him taking Chakrabandasana on the wall there.
“First batch” is at at 4:45 Shala Time, which is 15 minutes fast, so we show up at 4:30. Sharath told us at conference this week that he used to ride the motorbike to downtown, 15 or 20 minutes, every morning at 3AM to practice. I suppose I can’t complain (moan). Last night there was a wedding in the neighborhood with extremely loud Bollywood style music until they blew the PA around midnight. So I slept 2 hours.
Coming in to practice at 4:30, the room is having more of the advanced practitioners, people who’ve been here a while, and mosquitoes. Your start time gets earlier as you stay. It’s very quiet but for the breath. Today a man fell out of a balancing pose and Sharath jokes “ don’t break my picture!” There is a photo of him taking Chakrabandasana on the wall there.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
12/02/08
Back to Mystery and Possibility. The desire to “understand” mentally keeps coming up. Sharath thwarts my efforts at question-asking with terse answers. With Guruji, you could blame it on the English, but with Sharath…at first I took it personally. Of course. As if much of anything has to do with the personality of Kate. I feel her starting to break down. It hurt at first, like a crack along the deep ice I’ve been skating. Now, it feels more like bubbles rising and breaking on the surface of my resistance. For now, I know it, any sensation is always only For Now.
Yesterday’s meditation in practice was to remember, nobody here really cares about Kate except for Kate. Kate wants to be noticed for her efforts, possibly even recognized as something special. Kate wants to know its all for something, please, validate me. But that sort of attention just doesn’t come here. After wondering as usual why the hell I came all this way to be IGNORED along with everyone else, I settle into an anonymity, which has its own gifts to share. I find myself being more careful with my speech. Honestly, I am not sure I have an excess of prana to be squirting out the mouth.
I do relax the intensity of my asana. Indeed, my noble efforts at intensity prove nothing, and are beaten down by the routine of being required to do it every day. This every day element is so important! I just don’t see myself as clearly when I skip the days I don’t feel like looking. When I am tired, I must accept it, pace myself, and move on along. Perfection has no place here. Let me repeat that. PERFECTION HAS NO PLACE HERE. Only Kate wants that kind of perfection anyhow. Purity of intention, reduction of Ego-driven consciousness, faith and devotion- these are the perfect goals of this practice. If anything about this were ever perfect, we wouldn’t call it practice would we? We’d call it the Real Thing.
Back to Mystery and Possibility. The desire to “understand” mentally keeps coming up. Sharath thwarts my efforts at question-asking with terse answers. With Guruji, you could blame it on the English, but with Sharath…at first I took it personally. Of course. As if much of anything has to do with the personality of Kate. I feel her starting to break down. It hurt at first, like a crack along the deep ice I’ve been skating. Now, it feels more like bubbles rising and breaking on the surface of my resistance. For now, I know it, any sensation is always only For Now.
Yesterday’s meditation in practice was to remember, nobody here really cares about Kate except for Kate. Kate wants to be noticed for her efforts, possibly even recognized as something special. Kate wants to know its all for something, please, validate me. But that sort of attention just doesn’t come here. After wondering as usual why the hell I came all this way to be IGNORED along with everyone else, I settle into an anonymity, which has its own gifts to share. I find myself being more careful with my speech. Honestly, I am not sure I have an excess of prana to be squirting out the mouth.
I do relax the intensity of my asana. Indeed, my noble efforts at intensity prove nothing, and are beaten down by the routine of being required to do it every day. This every day element is so important! I just don’t see myself as clearly when I skip the days I don’t feel like looking. When I am tired, I must accept it, pace myself, and move on along. Perfection has no place here. Let me repeat that. PERFECTION HAS NO PLACE HERE. Only Kate wants that kind of perfection anyhow. Purity of intention, reduction of Ego-driven consciousness, faith and devotion- these are the perfect goals of this practice. If anything about this were ever perfect, we wouldn’t call it practice would we? We’d call it the Real Thing.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
This place brings me back again to the distinction between ambition and aspiration. It seems everything I am involved in here, the yoga, the dance, does not benefit from my effort, but from my relaxation. I always remember Bhavani, my sutra teacher’s words: Relax the intensity of your effort because this journey never ends. Thank goodness the yoga goes to eternity. It will take at least this much. As I get a teeny bit older, I wonder at what point I might meet my end with the progression through the Ashtanga series. Here in Mysore, it is very clear that we are working on the first 3 limbs of yoga. Personal and social consciousness, and asana. What I understand from studying here is that the asana alone can take at least this lifetime. Guruji says to me in the office when I ask any question: “slowly slowly.” Godammit! Slow my ass!
At the jewelry store my friend is in a hurry. The three women it requires to swipe a credit card and generate a receipt get only slower as her impatience flusters them. They huddle over the computer, stressing contagiously. My friend and I begin discussing the important lesson of India: Relax, have chai. When I am rushing or stressing, my belly gets tight. I think, why am I doing this to myself? It will not get me out of this shop any sooner. My soft and wonderful belly, the vessel for the organs of digestion and creation, the seat of all integration, why tweak it? Over what?
The asana- “why you hurry?” Sharath says every week. (He says so little. I am fortunate to be a wordsmith so I can roll over these one-liners and make some deep allegory of it…aaah yes, grasshopper.) I am so humbled by it here. The more I effort, the more ridiculous it gets. Crunching the face in order to get a leg behind my head. Yes, that works, good job. Good thing you are trying so hard, Kate, because if you weren’t killing it in the yoga room every morning you would be ABSOLUTELY USELESS. Your life would be NULL AND VOID.
And what a blessing if it were! Released from the bondage of ambition and free to aspire! To love, to grow high like a beanstalk simply because it is my nature. But yoga tells us the nature of the human mind is to run in circles, chasing our tails. The trip is to remember I am not that chase. Hence the ego smashing. I don’t expect to receive any new poses, any special blessings, any metamorphoses of my human form. This time may be finished for now. The times when each new pose unfolded and always there was this sense of immediate change before my very eyes. Now I am in the slowly slowly stage of practice. The way to bring peace to my life is to be peaceful in it, whatever outward form it is taking.
Such is the practice and the whole trip of Mysore. I stand on my mat before practice every day and imagine giving it up. Giving it all up! Release the effort, the face, the legs, the mind and heart. Just be thankful to be here and know that my very presence in this exact place at this time, on my mat again for the umpteenth time, is a manifestation of the very devotion that sets me free. And so. I have already arrived, before the practice even starts. The entire day stretches before me, ripe with the unexpected. Fragranced by curiosity and wonder.
Then there are those days when I can’t…quite…let it be. Sometimes I am just not satisfied with my uselessness. Back to the work of transforming ambition to aspiration.
At the jewelry store my friend is in a hurry. The three women it requires to swipe a credit card and generate a receipt get only slower as her impatience flusters them. They huddle over the computer, stressing contagiously. My friend and I begin discussing the important lesson of India: Relax, have chai. When I am rushing or stressing, my belly gets tight. I think, why am I doing this to myself? It will not get me out of this shop any sooner. My soft and wonderful belly, the vessel for the organs of digestion and creation, the seat of all integration, why tweak it? Over what?
The asana- “why you hurry?” Sharath says every week. (He says so little. I am fortunate to be a wordsmith so I can roll over these one-liners and make some deep allegory of it…aaah yes, grasshopper.) I am so humbled by it here. The more I effort, the more ridiculous it gets. Crunching the face in order to get a leg behind my head. Yes, that works, good job. Good thing you are trying so hard, Kate, because if you weren’t killing it in the yoga room every morning you would be ABSOLUTELY USELESS. Your life would be NULL AND VOID.
And what a blessing if it were! Released from the bondage of ambition and free to aspire! To love, to grow high like a beanstalk simply because it is my nature. But yoga tells us the nature of the human mind is to run in circles, chasing our tails. The trip is to remember I am not that chase. Hence the ego smashing. I don’t expect to receive any new poses, any special blessings, any metamorphoses of my human form. This time may be finished for now. The times when each new pose unfolded and always there was this sense of immediate change before my very eyes. Now I am in the slowly slowly stage of practice. The way to bring peace to my life is to be peaceful in it, whatever outward form it is taking.
Such is the practice and the whole trip of Mysore. I stand on my mat before practice every day and imagine giving it up. Giving it all up! Release the effort, the face, the legs, the mind and heart. Just be thankful to be here and know that my very presence in this exact place at this time, on my mat again for the umpteenth time, is a manifestation of the very devotion that sets me free. And so. I have already arrived, before the practice even starts. The entire day stretches before me, ripe with the unexpected. Fragranced by curiosity and wonder.
Then there are those days when I can’t…quite…let it be. Sometimes I am just not satisfied with my uselessness. Back to the work of transforming ambition to aspiration.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Had an “opening” in my left hip yesterday, my first day practicing intermediate after a week of primary series. I have been backing off a lot of the leg behind the head stuff while teaching, and now that I’m in my time to focus on my practice, I am hitting it like a ton of bricks. I felt my soaz in upward dog after the pose going woo-woo. I took faith in the sequence of postures and the kazillion times I have done this practice before and forged ahead. Then I avoided socializing for breakfast, came home, ate like a pig, and fell asleep for two hours. Woke up fine.
I have this tendency to practice like there’s no tomorrow (Did anybody see the movie Shine about the pianist who goes crazy after his teacher tells him he must play like there is no tomorrow? Yikes!). Of course it is only my first week, and inevitably days will come where I am tired. I have been doing an hour of restorative every day, and avoiding eating after lunchtime. If Adam Poock is reading, thanks for the PT!
This overly ambitious approach to the asana is a reflection of the strength of my aspiration, as well as an OCD type refusal to be patient with myself and imperfection. I have a meditation I use while practicing, imagining Mulabandha is my connection to God. As I lift the perineum, I relax my face and imagine I am drawing in God’s love. This meditation works to counteract my tendency to work too hard down here on the ground in this little body. It is impossible to be hurt while focusing on love (Ishvara Pranidhana). For instance, when I take Chakrabandhasana with Sharath or Saraswati (he started me taking the ankles on my third day, gulp) and it comes time to “take” I relax everything but mulabandha until I am in the pose, then I push my hips forward like my savior its waiting to receive them. I put all my desire for the conscious evolution of our species into the forward motion of my hips so I may stand alone in the pose. Almost there.
It is such a tangible manifestation of possibility and limitation co-existing. I am absolutely enthralled.
I have this tendency to practice like there’s no tomorrow (Did anybody see the movie Shine about the pianist who goes crazy after his teacher tells him he must play like there is no tomorrow? Yikes!). Of course it is only my first week, and inevitably days will come where I am tired. I have been doing an hour of restorative every day, and avoiding eating after lunchtime. If Adam Poock is reading, thanks for the PT!
This overly ambitious approach to the asana is a reflection of the strength of my aspiration, as well as an OCD type refusal to be patient with myself and imperfection. I have a meditation I use while practicing, imagining Mulabandha is my connection to God. As I lift the perineum, I relax my face and imagine I am drawing in God’s love. This meditation works to counteract my tendency to work too hard down here on the ground in this little body. It is impossible to be hurt while focusing on love (Ishvara Pranidhana). For instance, when I take Chakrabandhasana with Sharath or Saraswati (he started me taking the ankles on my third day, gulp) and it comes time to “take” I relax everything but mulabandha until I am in the pose, then I push my hips forward like my savior its waiting to receive them. I put all my desire for the conscious evolution of our species into the forward motion of my hips so I may stand alone in the pose. Almost there.
It is such a tangible manifestation of possibility and limitation co-existing. I am absolutely enthralled.
Ragu the bike man and I are friends at last. My first visit with flat tires after getting the cycle from storage (Bike means motorbike, cycle is the pedal kind) he was dismissive and I thought, oh no how am I ever going to get this thing on the road? The back tire promptly went flat again on my way to meet my dance teacher for the first time. I carried the bike through a back road of cows and squatting women and children, who got quite a kick out of me stumbling along with a cycle on my hip, skirting cow patties.
This being my second visit, he asked if it was my cycle. I told him it was and I bought it used. This he seemed to like and he filled the tire and asked, “what other problem?” I told him the chain was always falling off and he straightened the back wheel, which may well have been smashed by Mr Srinivas’s car while in the garage. The seat keeps going up my crotch, so he tightened the bolts, but I feel there is a structural problem there. Some strange sounds come, but I don’t feel anymore as though the thing is going to fall apart mid-pedal. I don’t think the chain can handle me standing up to pedal up hill, so I have been walking it. Gokulum has many hills, one of which I live halfway up.
I feel quite relieved that, by necessity, I have figured out how to use the air thingy so when Ragu is not present, which is often, I can fill my own tires. I asked him if I needed a new chain and he said I’ve got one more month, same for the back tire, but I have to fill it every 3 days. I would rather just replace the stuff, but this is “not necessary”. So I guess I’ll use it till its dead.
As for my little one-room villa on the rooftop, I am quite pleased. Everything seems to have gotten ironed out. First there was no power, then no water, then no shower, then no hot water from the shower. The men have been crawling up and down the ladder, which goes past my window onto the roof where the water tank is. They have put a new tank, very exciting for all involved, which somehow translates to my hot water coming from the shower. However, the electricity is always going out, so the hot water heater is not available. The hot shower, as always, remains a luxury. Which is fine with me unless I have a fever. (Nothing of the sort so far).
I sweep every day with my straw-like broom with hot pink handle (everything in the place is pink, to my delight). The broom seems to be leaving more debris in its wake then was there to begin to begin with. So I go for the damp towel technique. Amazing how quickly dust gathers. The bug net is up and effective, I use the light of my Ipod to find the ones that get inside and yes, kill them. I don’t know anyone who has contracted malaria in Mysore, and I don’t worry about it much in India at large.
This being my second visit, he asked if it was my cycle. I told him it was and I bought it used. This he seemed to like and he filled the tire and asked, “what other problem?” I told him the chain was always falling off and he straightened the back wheel, which may well have been smashed by Mr Srinivas’s car while in the garage. The seat keeps going up my crotch, so he tightened the bolts, but I feel there is a structural problem there. Some strange sounds come, but I don’t feel anymore as though the thing is going to fall apart mid-pedal. I don’t think the chain can handle me standing up to pedal up hill, so I have been walking it. Gokulum has many hills, one of which I live halfway up.
I feel quite relieved that, by necessity, I have figured out how to use the air thingy so when Ragu is not present, which is often, I can fill my own tires. I asked him if I needed a new chain and he said I’ve got one more month, same for the back tire, but I have to fill it every 3 days. I would rather just replace the stuff, but this is “not necessary”. So I guess I’ll use it till its dead.
As for my little one-room villa on the rooftop, I am quite pleased. Everything seems to have gotten ironed out. First there was no power, then no water, then no shower, then no hot water from the shower. The men have been crawling up and down the ladder, which goes past my window onto the roof where the water tank is. They have put a new tank, very exciting for all involved, which somehow translates to my hot water coming from the shower. However, the electricity is always going out, so the hot water heater is not available. The hot shower, as always, remains a luxury. Which is fine with me unless I have a fever. (Nothing of the sort so far).
I sweep every day with my straw-like broom with hot pink handle (everything in the place is pink, to my delight). The broom seems to be leaving more debris in its wake then was there to begin to begin with. So I go for the damp towel technique. Amazing how quickly dust gathers. The bug net is up and effective, I use the light of my Ipod to find the ones that get inside and yes, kill them. I don’t know anyone who has contracted malaria in Mysore, and I don’t worry about it much in India at large.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Well I’ve made it to Mysore, along with 250 or so others. The hamlet of Gokulum has become quite the hot spot for yoga studies. I don’t assume anymore when I meet another westerner that she is here to study at the Sri K Pattabhi Jois Ashtanga Yoga Institute. They could be here for Bharath at Yoga India, Venkatesh, Mystic Yoga, Bhima Shakti Yoga, or the others which I haven’t heard of yet. Mystic Yoga is an Indian man in his 20s who studied with BNS Iyengar in Lakshmipuram. To be teaching in one’s 20s around here would seem to be a new phenomenon.
Another recent phenomenon which my teacher Robert Moses pointed out years ago, is the possibility of achieving riches or fame through teaching yoga. At conference yesterday, Sharath answered a question about the difficulty of making a living with a yoga studio, and is the teaching meant to be a business or a selfless service. Sharath answered that we should all keep to our professions and keep yoga as a spiritual practice. Yet I notice as he addresses the group of us, he is often speaking as to a group of aspiring teachers.
Many do come here for the “authorization” a new fangled version of having Guruji’s blessing to go teach. The tradition of yoga is changing so much. Krishnamacharya was a poor man. His teacher told him to go teach (which is how it was for many of the old schoolers who guruji told to go teach) and for a man of multiple academic honors to be sent into a life of yoga teaching meant very simple living. For many years, Guruji’s wife owned 2 sarees. Sharath told the group yesterday that one must expect little from one’s service. And no, yoga is not a business venture, but we knew that.
I love the way he looks confused by these questions, “I don’t know why you would ask that,” he says. I feel that the money pouring into this family is viewed as karma. Money is a measure of action/energy. In the west, we have attached many meanings, one being personal validation, to the receipt of funds. (FYI, nobody smashes the Ego like Guruji and Sharath) In a true yogic sense, an influx of some entity which is associated with validation of the Ego would be a dangerous thing, or a timely challenge, depending on the focus of the student. I have watched others in the yoga ocmmuity jockey with this idea called “fame” and the play between serving greater numbers and the dangers of reknown. When I chose to stay committed to Ashtanga Yoga as a practitioner and as a teacher, I knew I wouldn’t be getting famous or rich. Indeed, I have lived very much on the charity of others who want to support “the yoga” by supporting my studies. When I come here to study, I feel I commit to this conscious evolution for the good of all, especially my community in Boston. I can feel that the students there get this, and this is part of what makes the growing relationship between us special.
I started teaching after five years of doing nothing but yoga practices with my teachers and on my own. I was as they say , keen. At some point I was so thirsting for service and I couldn’t imagine doing anything besides sharing yoga. I hunted it; I tried too hard; I started too early; I hurt my body. But I was so tired of waiting tables and cleaning toilets. Seemed like th only choice at the time. I think this is something of the 20s, thinking there is scarcity of choice. Dad always said: your twenties are about learning what you don’t want.
Yesterday when Sharath said to go about your profession, I wondered what mine is? Im certainly not a dentist or a mechanic. I feel my profession is to continue the path of conscious evolution (just another word for yoga) for the betterment of all. One could hardly expect money from this venture. The teaching of yoga then becomes something of a duty. Because the singular focus on personal work must give way to an outward focus and the process of balancing the two. Sharath spoke yesterday of wanting to go live in the forest and do only yoga when his kids are grown. I have been aware for some time now of what a sacrifice he must make to continue this yoga school and I trust him completely, truly. He lights up when he speaks of yoga practice (can’t you feel it? He asks us yesterday) but not when he speaks of teaching. I am so grateful that an authentic “yoga family business” is open for me to come study.
It does feel like a family business. Hundreds of us sweating in the ground floor of their home. Saraswati comes down in her housedress to teach primary. The nanny peeks in with the baby on her hip. The spray bottle for Garbapindasana has kid’s stickers all over it. This ain’t no Italian restaurant, but it’s a family trade all the same.
Another recent phenomenon which my teacher Robert Moses pointed out years ago, is the possibility of achieving riches or fame through teaching yoga. At conference yesterday, Sharath answered a question about the difficulty of making a living with a yoga studio, and is the teaching meant to be a business or a selfless service. Sharath answered that we should all keep to our professions and keep yoga as a spiritual practice. Yet I notice as he addresses the group of us, he is often speaking as to a group of aspiring teachers.
Many do come here for the “authorization” a new fangled version of having Guruji’s blessing to go teach. The tradition of yoga is changing so much. Krishnamacharya was a poor man. His teacher told him to go teach (which is how it was for many of the old schoolers who guruji told to go teach) and for a man of multiple academic honors to be sent into a life of yoga teaching meant very simple living. For many years, Guruji’s wife owned 2 sarees. Sharath told the group yesterday that one must expect little from one’s service. And no, yoga is not a business venture, but we knew that.
I love the way he looks confused by these questions, “I don’t know why you would ask that,” he says. I feel that the money pouring into this family is viewed as karma. Money is a measure of action/energy. In the west, we have attached many meanings, one being personal validation, to the receipt of funds. (FYI, nobody smashes the Ego like Guruji and Sharath) In a true yogic sense, an influx of some entity which is associated with validation of the Ego would be a dangerous thing, or a timely challenge, depending on the focus of the student. I have watched others in the yoga ocmmuity jockey with this idea called “fame” and the play between serving greater numbers and the dangers of reknown. When I chose to stay committed to Ashtanga Yoga as a practitioner and as a teacher, I knew I wouldn’t be getting famous or rich. Indeed, I have lived very much on the charity of others who want to support “the yoga” by supporting my studies. When I come here to study, I feel I commit to this conscious evolution for the good of all, especially my community in Boston. I can feel that the students there get this, and this is part of what makes the growing relationship between us special.
I started teaching after five years of doing nothing but yoga practices with my teachers and on my own. I was as they say , keen. At some point I was so thirsting for service and I couldn’t imagine doing anything besides sharing yoga. I hunted it; I tried too hard; I started too early; I hurt my body. But I was so tired of waiting tables and cleaning toilets. Seemed like th only choice at the time. I think this is something of the 20s, thinking there is scarcity of choice. Dad always said: your twenties are about learning what you don’t want.
Yesterday when Sharath said to go about your profession, I wondered what mine is? Im certainly not a dentist or a mechanic. I feel my profession is to continue the path of conscious evolution (just another word for yoga) for the betterment of all. One could hardly expect money from this venture. The teaching of yoga then becomes something of a duty. Because the singular focus on personal work must give way to an outward focus and the process of balancing the two. Sharath spoke yesterday of wanting to go live in the forest and do only yoga when his kids are grown. I have been aware for some time now of what a sacrifice he must make to continue this yoga school and I trust him completely, truly. He lights up when he speaks of yoga practice (can’t you feel it? He asks us yesterday) but not when he speaks of teaching. I am so grateful that an authentic “yoga family business” is open for me to come study.
It does feel like a family business. Hundreds of us sweating in the ground floor of their home. Saraswati comes down in her housedress to teach primary. The nanny peeks in with the baby on her hip. The spray bottle for Garbapindasana has kid’s stickers all over it. This ain’t no Italian restaurant, but it’s a family trade all the same.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Get Real. A 21-Day Lifestyle Intensive with Kate at Back Bay Yoga. In effect Oct 1-21. Meeting 3 Saturdays Oct 4, 11, and 18. We will be using this blogspot as our on-line support space. Comment on this posting to ask questions, offer advice, rejoice, complain, and whatever else may come up during the 21 day period. I will be checking in daily. Om!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
THE EVOLUTION OF A YOGA REVOLUTION
Note: This is a posting from the Back Bay Yoga Blog, www.bbashtanga.wordpress.com. I will continue to make personal posts on one-yoga, about once a month.
OK, I'm back (sort of). In Rudolf Steiner's philosophy, the Ethereal Body (kind of like Pranamaya Kosha, as I understand it) follows after the Physical body (Annamaya Kosha) when we travel. It can be a few weeks for the Prana to catch up with the Anna. Thanks for bearing with me, I'm excited to be back. And do you know, Back Bay Ashtangis, you are the context for my yoga these days. Stepping into "teacher space" is a different lifestyle than I have been having. Scot and I were pondering yesterday the differences between our lifestyles and the way of living here in New England. We are working on the reality of keeping daily life simple. The desire to fill the space of my days comes strongly whenever I am here. When I am simply sitting, I hear an old voice inside saying, "what's your life about Kate? What are you DOING?"
Indeed, what are any of us DOING. Well, we are practicing yoga- among many other things. This means many things to many people, yes? What does it mean to you?
What Scot and I work to remember is that "I" am not DOING anything.
A great tale about Sri Ramana Maharishi of South India: When called in as a witness to the local court about a stolen cow, the judge dismissed Maharishi as a witness because, "there is no one here to question." Maharishi kept answering, "I" saw nothing. "I" know nothing. The yoga gives us an opportunity to tap into a reality where the Ego-Mind is not running the show. The more that we settle into stillness, the more we remember what we ARE. We are IT, man. The modern yoga practitioner is a revolutionary. It's truly beautiful and exciting. I am inspired to see you all in there daily doing this work, committing to a remembrance of a deeper, clearer, more simple reality.
The busier daily life gets, the more challenging this is. I slowly slowly reintegrate here, watching the tendencies of the Ego-Mind to start filling the space. I check in with the way life can be here, the daily grind, and I respect you all more and more. I feel called to hold this space of a simple life in Boston (of all places!), remaining committed to this particular expression of yoga. Thanks to you all for your support in this.
Note: This is a posting from the Back Bay Yoga Blog, www.bbashtanga.wordpress.com. I will continue to make personal posts on one-yoga, about once a month.
OK, I'm back (sort of). In Rudolf Steiner's philosophy, the Ethereal Body (kind of like Pranamaya Kosha, as I understand it) follows after the Physical body (Annamaya Kosha) when we travel. It can be a few weeks for the Prana to catch up with the Anna. Thanks for bearing with me, I'm excited to be back. And do you know, Back Bay Ashtangis, you are the context for my yoga these days. Stepping into "teacher space" is a different lifestyle than I have been having. Scot and I were pondering yesterday the differences between our lifestyles and the way of living here in New England. We are working on the reality of keeping daily life simple. The desire to fill the space of my days comes strongly whenever I am here. When I am simply sitting, I hear an old voice inside saying, "what's your life about Kate? What are you DOING?"
Indeed, what are any of us DOING. Well, we are practicing yoga- among many other things. This means many things to many people, yes? What does it mean to you?
What Scot and I work to remember is that "I" am not DOING anything.
A great tale about Sri Ramana Maharishi of South India: When called in as a witness to the local court about a stolen cow, the judge dismissed Maharishi as a witness because, "there is no one here to question." Maharishi kept answering, "I" saw nothing. "I" know nothing. The yoga gives us an opportunity to tap into a reality where the Ego-Mind is not running the show. The more that we settle into stillness, the more we remember what we ARE. We are IT, man. The modern yoga practitioner is a revolutionary. It's truly beautiful and exciting. I am inspired to see you all in there daily doing this work, committing to a remembrance of a deeper, clearer, more simple reality.
The busier daily life gets, the more challenging this is. I slowly slowly reintegrate here, watching the tendencies of the Ego-Mind to start filling the space. I check in with the way life can be here, the daily grind, and I respect you all more and more. I feel called to hold this space of a simple life in Boston (of all places!), remaining committed to this particular expression of yoga. Thanks to you all for your support in this.
Friday, February 29, 2008
02-29-08 Yak Attacks and Flesh Sacks
I bought a yak-skin vest. It's true. From the Kashmiris at the market. Yak puns abound. It was a big move. I feel different about it somehow, than if it were Nike, knowing the guy who raised the yak and makes his living from selling yak products. "The yaks have a happy life," he says to answer my angst, "what is the problem?" It's all a bit more simple when we don't expect yaks to have apartments, sushi, and Ikea furniture.
Things are beginning to thin out here. Last class is on the 10th of March, my second month is up on the 6th, which is Shivaratri, an all-night festival holiday. I'll be on the train to Goa that night, which should be interesting. I'll let you know if the train itself includes an all-night festival atmoshpere. Quite possible.
I'm on auto-pilot with full interemediate and ankle taking and all that. I've been studying Barathnatyam, a style of dance originating in Tamil Nadu. These dances tell the stories of Gods and Goddeses, using a lot of hand gestures (mudras), ankle bells and foot slapping. My legs hurt! It is a serious pursuit and feels wonderful to be dancing again. Some people get all involved with numerous classes while they are here. I know Sharath would rather we don't do things that make us stiff, like dance and cycle riding. After years of life supporting yoga, I am in favor of yoga supporting life. I don't want to lay around all day and read scriptures, really don't. I am not old yet.
A friend said the other day about her frequent pranayama and philosophy classes: "Well I figure we will shed this Flesh Sack soon enough, so best start the inner work now." I heard myself answer, "Lately, I've been thinking how I only get this wonderful flesh sack for a short time. I want to enjoy!"
Does enjoyment include the wearing of Yak Sacks? Not necessarily. Possibly.
Those of you who have known me will see this is a whole new me.
I bought a yak-skin vest. It's true. From the Kashmiris at the market. Yak puns abound. It was a big move. I feel different about it somehow, than if it were Nike, knowing the guy who raised the yak and makes his living from selling yak products. "The yaks have a happy life," he says to answer my angst, "what is the problem?" It's all a bit more simple when we don't expect yaks to have apartments, sushi, and Ikea furniture.
Things are beginning to thin out here. Last class is on the 10th of March, my second month is up on the 6th, which is Shivaratri, an all-night festival holiday. I'll be on the train to Goa that night, which should be interesting. I'll let you know if the train itself includes an all-night festival atmoshpere. Quite possible.
I'm on auto-pilot with full interemediate and ankle taking and all that. I've been studying Barathnatyam, a style of dance originating in Tamil Nadu. These dances tell the stories of Gods and Goddeses, using a lot of hand gestures (mudras), ankle bells and foot slapping. My legs hurt! It is a serious pursuit and feels wonderful to be dancing again. Some people get all involved with numerous classes while they are here. I know Sharath would rather we don't do things that make us stiff, like dance and cycle riding. After years of life supporting yoga, I am in favor of yoga supporting life. I don't want to lay around all day and read scriptures, really don't. I am not old yet.
A friend said the other day about her frequent pranayama and philosophy classes: "Well I figure we will shed this Flesh Sack soon enough, so best start the inner work now." I heard myself answer, "Lately, I've been thinking how I only get this wonderful flesh sack for a short time. I want to enjoy!"
Does enjoyment include the wearing of Yak Sacks? Not necessarily. Possibly.
Those of you who have known me will see this is a whole new me.
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