Tag Archives: Practice Practice All is Coming

Road With No End

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Road With No End

On this desert road, the path disappears into the horizon, but I know it just keeps on going, that the further I travel, the stretch of road will continue to expand before me.

This is the same with practice. There is always more beyond what the eye can see.

Once upon a time, this would have been frustrating. The desire to get to an end, to reach a goal, to finish, is so compelling…

These days, however, am relishing the continuity of practice. How getting better at one posture, for example, means seeing that there’s more work to be done elsewhere. How it flows and flows without end, how there is somewhere else to get to, something else to experience, even when I don’t know what it is because somehow there’s a feeling that I know where it’s all going: home, where the perceived end is only another beginning.

Photo: The road into the White Desert, Farafra Desert Oasis, Egypt. Offerings this Weekend: Inner Dance in Cairo, April 11-12, 8:30-9:30.

Yoga of Climbing

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Yoga of Climbing

For a moment there is only the mountain and me.
No, not even the mountain, not even Montserrat, epic as she is.

Just the rock. And me.
There is no hard place.

Just deep concerted presence,
the sensation of hanging by the edge,
and the complete absence of all else.

Nothing is important. Not the distance below,
not the incredible expansive landscape behind me,
not the meters above to the top, reaching the end of the line.

There is no space or time for thoughts,
or assessments or judgements.
There is no room for fear.

There is only the rock. And me.
There is no hard place.

These are the moments in which yoga happens.


Practice on and off the mat. IN-studio classes still ongoing. Will continue to cover for Paz Muñoz of Pazzifica Ashtanga Yoga until March 7, Friday, this week. 

Photo: Taken by my friend and first-ever climbing coach Joan de Arcanye. So grateful to him and his friend Micki for taking me to Montserrat two Saturdays ago (went up a 6a+, up to 22 meters, yikes!). Gracias, Muchas Gracias! Me encantada!

Letting Go

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P1230587Letting Go

I am walking down from one of the short walks (Camino de San Miguel) right off the monastery in Montserrat, at the top of which is a crucifix overlooking the Basilica and Monastery, when I see the embellished trash bin. It makes me smile, this bit of graffiti.

Practice is like this. We all have our crosses. We bear these things, carrying it laboriously up the mountain. And then we mount them, making them into monuments of our suffering, reminders of our sacrifice–which is, to a point, fine, when it’s all part of a process.

Because we must eventually come down from these peaks and return to where we and others live. And when we do, we must ask ourselves, is there more to leave behind, what subtle energy or feeling is piggyback riding its way down with me?

Up or down, this road of surrender is not easy, but it is also littered with opportunities to let go, to throw away that which is no longer necessary, and to lighten the load on the long walk home.

Snakes & Ladders, The Game of Practice

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Surely as we develop strength and flexibility, both in the body and in the mind, the practice should get easier. Right?

Practice doesn’t always work that way; it isn’t black and white; it isn’t so straightforward.

Since last week, for example, I’ve been struggling with kapotasana (pidgeon pose), a posture that I had thought I’d gotten to know, gotten comfortable with. Kapo and I made friends, I thought…

But between deepening my relationship with my leg behind the head and the winter weather here in Barcelona (it’s mild I know, but I am have been living many many many years in the tropics), what was once manageable has gotten a whole lot harder. In fact, backbending in general, which I really love, has changed so dramatically over the last two weeks, it’s been startlingly humbling.

I realize, however, that I have a choice: I could despair, I could get frustrated or angry, I could give up this crazy leg behind the head business and preserve the postures that I’d worked so hard  for, that I was admittedly very attached to–the later of which may be one of the reasons, along with tight hips, why it’s taken me so log to get here, this awkward place–

Or I could just practice; practice with acceptance that my body is adapting and that it’s not always easy; practice with patience that these openings take time; practice with understanding that moving forward sometimes comes with its share of backsliding–that practice is an interesting game of snakes and ladders; practice with trust, with faith in this system which has just about turned around every limited thought I have even had about the bounds of my own physical body; practice with love, showing up everyday with an open heart and mind…

Guruji, Pattabhi Jois, said it best: “Practice, practice, all is coming…”

PHOTO: This photo–like practice, like life–taken in “black and white” is full of subtleties in tone and shades. We will be talking more about the struggles that come with practice on the Sunday, March 1 workshop on the Bhagavad Gita, Pazzifica Ashtanga Yoga, Barcelona. More details on www.pazzifica.com.

Practice: The Lonesome Road

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Practice: The Lonesome Road

Yesterday, Full Moon Day/Valentine’s Day, I took a day trip to nearby Montserrat, famed mountain of Catalan dotted with sacred sites, hermitages and churches, as well as the beautiful Basilica of Santa Maria de Montserrat. I got up the easy way, taking the Aeri, which just zipped a cable car full of us tourists up the mountain.

In the late afternoon, an hour and half before sunset, I decided to walk down to the pueblo of Montserrat, where I could take my train back to Barcelona. Easy enough, I thought.

It’s interesting how I little understood the hugeness of Montserrat, the height of it, until I took the time to walk it.

Not even a quarter of the way down on a narrow, zig-zagging dirt path on edge of the cliffside of the venerable mountain, looking at the dot-like municipality of Montserrat far far down below, I start to freak out just a little bit. I start to wonder: can I get there before sunset? What if something happens to me, what if I trip and twist my ankle? I am out here on my own and have not seen another soul on this little road.

I debate whether I should scale back up the path, take the Aeri or the furnicular down, like the rest of the reasonable tourists–none of whom seemed to hatch up the same plan as myself.

This is when the yoga kicked in for me. This is when I start to breathe slowly, when I start to bring mindfulness back into every step. I reason with myself: isn’t this, after all, what I wanted when I set out that morning, to spend time with myself, myself and the mountain?

Like yoga practice, some paths are meant to be walked alone. There are times when we have companions and times when we have guidance. Then there are the other times: when practice is a lonely road. It is useless to panic and counterproductive to back track. We simply need to move forward and enjoy the gift of isolation.

Had I not moved forward, I would not have seen the view from the side of the mountain, not seen the beauty of the world below, not understood the scale and grandeur of Montserrat or have developed the reverence I have for it now. And then, there’s the relationship with myself, with my self-belief and trust in my own abilities…

Practice can be a wonderful community experience, one connected to the collective. But it can also be a lonesome road. When that time comes–and it is a sacred and precious time–we must be brave to walk that path alone.

PHOTO: Spectacular view from Montserrat, as I start to make my way down this awesome mountain.

Little Lights

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Little Lights

In the morning class, I start with minimal dim lighting. An alabaster lamp in the corner, one overhead in the back by the doors, and the candles and fairy lights on the altar. Not a lot. Yet over the last two mornings with the room’s electricity not working, I realized how much illumination we had.

Monday, I arrived to find that power was out, luckily Paz had left me with a bag of tea lights and I resorted to sprinkling some 10 candles around the edge of the room. It was amazing to see the room glow, dim as it was. The lights just popped out in the early morning darkness, reminding me that it’s in the darkest moments that we most appreciate the smallest glimmers of light.

And then as dawn comes, streaming inside through the windows, these little lights cease to work in the bright and then they are forgotten. But by then, they’d already lived out their purpose.

These times, when you are given little light, do not fill your mind with worry or frustration that you cannot see clearly, instead allow yourself to see differently. Allow yourself to go into the quietness of such precious little light.

Photo: Pazzifica Ashtanga Yoga at Vacio Espacio by candle light. Happy to report that power is back on as of this evening. We may continue to play with candle light practices but heating will most definitely be on tomorrows’s agenda!

Oasis of Practice

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Oasis

Practice can be a little like going on a desert journey–a very long, long desert journey.

We walk and walk and walk. The sun beats down on us. It’s hot and we are exposed to the elements. It’s hard to be steady with constantly shifting ground beneath our feet.

The landscape is vast and seemingly unending, unchanging. Sand dunes meld into each other.

Then, as if out of nowhere, a desert oasis appears. We stare in wonder, is it real or a mirage? Are our minds playing tricks on us?

Yet, our senses do not lie. We see the lush green, we are refreshed in its cool waters, we rest under the shades of palms, and drink our fill.

Sated, we are ready to go on, and happily continue the long journey home.

Photo: A surprise in our short desert walk from the Dome of Winds atop the old tombs to San Simeon’s ruins in Aswan in Upper Egypt. My friend Karina casting her shadow on the sand.

Resolution Starts with Practice

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Resolution Starts with Practice

So ends the first teaching week of the new year. Some folks are slow to restart their practice after the holidays, while others–like myself–want to get on with 2014 with guns blazing.

Whatever pace we begin with, one thing is certain: this fresh start has us making intentions, resolving to do this or to do that, to NOT do this or NOT do that. Maybe it’s to master a posture or, at the very least, perform it with some sort of adequacy. Maybe it’s to practice daily or twice, or thrice a week.

The thing is, when it comes to practice, you just need to practice. Show up–whether it’s on your own to self practice or to a mysore or led class with a teacher. Show up. Be present. And it simply starts.

Sri K. Pattabhi Jois said it best: “Practice, practice, all is coming…”

Feliz Fin de Semana a todo!/Happy Weekend to all! Fresh start again next week, hope you see yourself on your mat!

Photo: Pazzifica signage greeting students at the studio foyer. I am teaching here in Barcelona at Espacio Vacio in Yoga con Gracia till March 7. Monday to Friday morning mysore starts at 7am and finishes at 9:30am. Evenings are Mon/Wed 6-8pm, Tuesday/Thursday 6:30-8:30pm.

Feeling Feedback

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Feeling Feedback

There I was at kapotasana (pidgeon pose) yesterday morning nearly a week since touching heels. The New Year’s revelry in Sinai, trek back to Cairo, and travel to Barcelona–where it has taken some days to settle in both in life and in practice–had taken a toll on me. Needless to say, it was an intense five inhales and exhales.

As I sprung out of it, I felt an old emotion in my chest, a soft explosion, a subtle but potent release. I gasped aloud, grateful that I was alone self-practicing because crying came so very naturally with the breath. I felt my heart. I was surprised and relieved to feel a release from an old ache, which had been hiding so very stealthily in my body.

There you are, I thought, pulling myself together and getting on with the rest of practice–still crying, mind you.

Sometimes we can see it coming, this wave of emotion from some deep down place, moved out of its hiding place by one or a combination of unpredictable factors: real life events, an hour and a half of deep concentrated effort, strong intentions, a deep stretch or posture…

As a teacher, it’s quite a sight when you’re watching from a distance. The signs can be so clear, the flow of practice perturbed by the movements of the heart and mind. We actually look as delicate as we feel at these moments. The breath changes. The vinyasa stutters. The posture wobbles. Brows furrow. The face changes.

Other times it catches us unawares, and it feels a little bit like being an innocent bystander observing some great but secret shift happening in the mind, heart and body. And then it passes…sometimes softly, other times not so.

When it comes–and if you practice long enough and with enough consistency, these moments certainly will come–we must honor them. We must give ourselves enough space to observe this process called yoga, to learn the lessons that come, to work out what needs to get worked out. But this too needs to be balanced with a healthy amount of surrender, of letting things go and simply getting on with it, returning to the breath, returning to the steadiness of practice.

Photo: Mat laid out for my own practice this morning after the mysore class at Pazzifica Ashtanga Yoga in Barcelona. When I look at this photo I see a very special meeting place, where me and the deep down parts of me get to know each other intimately.

Wide Open Spaces

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7:00am, January 7, 2014. I turn the key, turn the lights on, place Guruji’s photo on the altar, I light two candles. Students start to arrive, they lay down their mats and they start to breathe. The room heats while students move between standing postures. At a quarter to 8, we stop for a moment to fill the room with “Om” and the opening mantra.

What was an empty, dark room fills into my first mysore class in Barcelona, the beginning of a whole new teaching adventure.

Photo: The room and the mysore practice. I love this open space in Yoga con Gracia where Pazzifica Ashtanga Yoga has daily morning and evening mysore classes. Big windows, high ceilings, the room lends itself to the spirit of potential. Mysore mornings are Monday-Friday, 7am-9:30am.