Mysore this morning at the Starbucks Studio. We have new folks there, which is the upside to having a larger space. Nice to see some new people. And the usual folks are also there: this morning there was Sanskrit Scholar, The British Director, Returning Guy, The Beautiful One–who will now be known as Crim Girl since she revealed her evil nature via recent comments on this blog–and The Other Dave.

I was practicing directly across from The Other Dave this morning, and it was quite amusing, because we were pretty much in exactly the same place in our practices for the duration. Lots of people put their faces on their shins during the seated poses, but not The Other Dave, and not me. Which means I could kind of see the blur of him just past my toes as we went along. When we were at ardha baddha padma paschimottansana I heard him say, “Hey Karen, try moving your lotus knee closer to the extended leg,” (or, as they would say in Anusara, “closer to the midline”). Uh, okay, I did. “How’s that?” he asked, nodding. Oh yeah, that makes it hurt more. Thanks, Dave! πŸ˜‰

Practice was steady and enjoyable, except for whatever is happening in my left hamstring. It definitely hurts, and I wonder periodically if it’s going to snap or something, but so far it’s been hanging in there. Then I was mildly distracted by a clanking sound coming from a new practitioner. I think it might have been big jewelry of some sort, but seeing as I was practicing drishti, how can I possibly know?

I love the idea that I can practice drishti and that that automatically rules out all sorts of visual distractions. Sure, my mind thinks about what that noise can possibly be, but then I have to just accept that I’m not going to know, and move on. It reminds me of some stuff I was reading at work about wu wei. This is a Taoist principle…oh, I’ll just link you to something to see for yourself. I was in serious need of a wu wei pep talk at work this week, because everyone in the darned organization thinks about every question and every detail of any and every possible thing that can or ever will happen in all departments at all times. It’s exhausting and basically just a bad habit. The plain old fact of the matter is that we don’t always need to know every last thing. Geez. A little elegant not-knowing, people! Anyhow, drishti enforces a kind of not-knowing/not-doing that is most refreshing, and I really enjoy it.

Much as I enjoyed handstands today. Volleyball Guy, when spotting me, kind of grabbed my hip bones and shook me slightly. It made me snap “closed” a little bit–like a jackknife. Usually I have a lot of arch in my back–too much backbend. His shaking made me kind of reduce the angle made by my torso and my legs, an angle which is usually greater than 180 degrees. To stabilize myself against the shake, I closed the angle slightly, and locked my core. Yeah, I said “locked,” and yes, I know, like a bandha. I know, I know, this is something that should have been apparent all along. But I don’t learn until I actually experience things.

Like how ignoring ladies holiday and practicing makes me feel terrible. Yeah, that’s an ongoing lesson. And maybe tomorrow I will try drinking something during led class. I haven’t learned that lesson the hard way. Yet. This inability to take a lesson is why I am never too sad when I can’t do something, and never too happy when I can. Who knows how long my understanding will last on any given topic? I may totally blow handstands tomorrow, after my great epiphany this morning πŸ™‚

The Cop is preparing for night shift, and My Gift is having a few days up in San Francisco. A quiet night for me. Rest, reading, and lots of hydrating in anticipation of class tomorrow. But not with chai, Crim Girl, not with chai.


2 Responses

  1. I think that title wins hands down as one of the best I have heard in weeks!

  2. Haha! My daughter used to watch a Nickelodeon cartoon called “Angry Beavers.” One of the beaver brothers (Norbert) occasionally called his brother Dag “Dag-a-lag-a-ding-dong.” I thought that was a riot, and now I use it, too. πŸ™‚

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