Led, with crack

Saturday led practice in the summer seems to be not such a popular place. I’m good with that! Got to the Starbucks of Yoga studio and signed in. Only The British Director’s and Sanskrit Scholar’s names were on the list. Often when I sign in there are a good 15-20 names. At first I figured it was the weather we’ve been having. I assume that an ambient temperature of 115 degrees makes a cramped practice room seem quite unappealing. Later, though, Crim Girl suggested that the low attendance might be due to folks taking vacation.

Whatever it was, it rocked. I practiced between Sanskrit Scholar and The British Director, in the space near the door (prized for its relative coolness). There were about 12-15 of us, all together. Returning Guy was there, as was Crim Girl, Chanting Man and The Cat. And best of all, Volleyball Guy propped the door open a bit with a sandbag. Heaven. Air and some space around my mat. What more could you ask for? Oh, I know: Crim Girl setting up her mat at the end of mine. Now I am totally surrounded by Mysorians. Score!

Practice goes nicely. A couple of new people, who kind of sit up and look around to figure out what everyone else is doing. With their heads popping up every now and then, they remind me of the meerkats My Gift and I watched on TV yesterday.

Everything rolls along nicely. I am at a point where practice just is, and it’s interesting, because I can listen to what’s going on with my body without using too much of my mind. Which means the details can kind of blur together. After practice, Crim Girl and I went out for lunch. I was telling her that somewhere in practice, my shoulder had popped dramatically, but I couldn’t attach the details and remember what had happened. Very much like recounting a dream.

Suddenly, though, I remembered what it was. Supta kurmasana. I got the hand bind on my own, and then Volleyball Guy crossed my feet and pulled them up so my upper body could fall through the space. As I fell through, my shoulder made an enormous crack. A gee-I-think-I-just-broke-my-collarbone crack. I heard it and quite purposefully pushed my consciousness away from the sound and any thoughts I might have about the sound–I didn’t want to decide if it hurt or not, or if I should be freaked out. LOL! So I forgot about it as soon as it happened.

I guess I’m getting to a point where I can let my subconscious do some work. I don’t have to think about the sequence any more, and I kind of have a grasp on the practice as a whole. So I can let my id get in there and mess around with these somatic structures I’ve molded into my “self.” Yup, and this paragraph represents a pretty good facsimile of my post-practice discussion with Crim Girl. Who will attend the zendo tomorrow morning. She went to the Philosophy Monk for Rolfing, and as everyone knows, Rolfing and long discussions about energy and the history of Western philosophy are a sure road to the zendo 😉

After practice, Chanting Man and The Cat mentioned that they’d found my blog. Now that folks are finding out about it, I think someone else from the shala ought to do some blogging. To offer some alternative views of our community. Chanting Man mentioned our newest Mysorian, who I’ve been calling the new guy, and who I must name since he really does practice with us every day. We discussed how quiet this fellow is, how he comes in and does his practice, then leaves. On my drive home, it struck me that I will call him The Ninja. LOL! Cool name, huh? Now that the Mysorians are reading this blog, I’m sure they’re going to want equally cool names. Perhaps we will do some revisions. The only person so far who has had a name change is Crim Girl, who started out as The Beautiful One. But with much effort, she managed to flaunt all the rules of Ashtanga and, indeed, general human society, and thereby forced a name change. So okay, we may revise some blog monikers. Perhaps I can make this as intricate and difficult to follow as the characters in a Russian novel 😉


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