a meeting-of-the-mysoreans



I woke up feeling groggy and looked over at the clock. “What day is it?” I mumbled to myself. Then, I realized that it was Friday — another work day in a long and exhausting week. Ugh!  To further shake me from my sleepiness, the realization that I was expected at the yoga studio for a meeting-of-the-mysoreans got me going. I sent a text message to my teacher to let her know that I’d be late and quickly began getting ready.

After putting the dogs outside to feast on their 1st meal of the day, I made myself a shot of espresso and threw some lunch in a bag. Then, I rushed upstairs to wash up, brush my teeth & hair, and get dressed to go.

Having developed this practice of evening preparation has helped me tremendously in getting my not-a-morning-personality OUT of BED each morning. And since I have recently needed to shift my daily practice to even earlier on these cimmerian mornings, it is even more important then ever for me to set myself up for success. Today, it helped me to get out the door in less than 20 minutes.

Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible. -Saint Francis of Assisi

By the time I arrived at the studio, the mysore room was already filled with yogis. Everyone sat on bolsters in a large circle with an elaborate spread of food in the middle of it all. Mojdeh (my teacher) immediately greeted me and ushered me over to a place she had readied for me.

We all just sat, ate, and got to know each other. Talking is something that doesn’t happen much in the mysore room. Not the in depth sort of talking anyway. There is no place for deep conversation inside the room; the only thing remotely deep happening on my mat is my kapotasana (if I’m lucky). Personally, my morning practice is a time when I am sort of a introspective hermit. Trust me; it’s needed.

After the Sunday practice, is the only time where the regular mysoreans seem to have an opportunity to catch up on peoples’ life outside the room. There’s a lot that has been going on.  People have given birth to babies, lost loved ones, gotten into accidents, and much more.

So the use of the Moon Day for this meeting-of-the-mysoreans was a pretty cool thing. And…

Of course, the FOOD was AMAZING!!

Just Different



Ashtangis are often told to refrain from judging their practice. It is neither good OR bad; it just is. So today, when my son asked me how my yoga practice was, I told him that it was different.

Quite naturally, he asked me to elaborate. How was it different? Was it fun? Did you feel good or do something exceptionally well? The answer was yes AND no. Like any day, there were times when I felt good…but times when I didn’t. There were parts that were fun and other parts that were downright hard.

Still…
It was different.

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Child’s Play



 

Today, make time to play. -Na’ama Yehudi

Time Passes



This post was held up in my draft posts. I guess I never finalized in published it. Although I intend to keep the original publication date, the two month mark is now way behind us; it’s now nearly eight months since Erika left us. Mojdeh is no longer “our new teacher”.  She is simply “our teacher.”

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Just Deserts



These days I’ve been partaking in a few too many sweets. Although I do not believe that I am eating more sweets than I was a year ago, the quantity is surely more than my metabolism is able to burn. My middle is getting thicker; therefore, further challenging my ability to catch my hands in the asanas which require a bind by Ashtanga tradition.

I guess you could say that I’m getting my “just deserts” from eating too many desserts.

I have been trying to do something about the weight gained since circling the menopausal drain. For several months now, I’ve been hitting the gym with more regularity. In turn, my shoulders (etc.) are tighter and, you guessed it, I am further challenged.

Then there are the hormones which I recently started in an effort to get some sleep. While these help one aspect of my life (and practice), they also have a known side effect of weight gain. This means that I MUST learn to say “NO” to the numerous invitations to enjoy these sweet, yummy desserts.

Challenged.

Of course, we all know that it isn’t about the binds. It’s not even about the twists or backbends. It’s about the journey.

Right?

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