Mat Manners



By now, you all have probably noticed that practicing at home has its pros and cons. For me, not having to pack up all of my work clothes, lunch, and other items needed for the rest of the day, coupled with not having to navigate the morning commute, is a HUGE plus. Accountability and discipline are a must to keep me coming to my mat day after day. I don’t always feel it, but I do it anyway. When it is all said and done, I am ALWAYS glad that I did.

Connecting to my community via zoom helps as well. After the laptop incident, I don’t dare use my laptop for the connection. Instead, I use my phone. I can’t see everyone at once, but I can hear the breath, voices, and comments while I am on my mat. It’s not the same as being in the room with them, but similar in a way. What I mean is, you aren’t supposed to be looking around, listening in on everyone else’s practice – but knowing you all are in it together in the collective flow is really powerful.

Then, there is my new puppy…

Kobe has been with us for five weeks now. From Day 1, I have made an effort to let him be with me during my practice. To be honest (or frank), I don’t really have a choice. In the beginning, he woke rather early, and had already gotten some rigorous play time before I rolled out my mat. So, usually, he fell back to sleep shortly after my standing poses were complete. Now that he is sleeping through the night, he wakes at the start of Mysore and is fully charged from a full night of sleep. And he wants to PLAY!

Monday being a moon day, I incorporated puppy play into my mini practice. In hind sight, this may have been a mistake. For on Tuesday, he repeatedly brought me the toy I had played tug-o-war with during practice the day before. Only NOW, I didn’t want to play. He and his toy were repeatedly put in my practice space only to be ignored. Young Kobe persisted, tugging on my ponytail, licking my face when I was in the most vulnerable of poses (i.e. kapotasana, supta vajrasana). I struggled, feeling guilty for ignoring him while desperate to not lose my practice.

On Wednesday, I begin again. I am determined to teach my pup some mat manners. He climbs on my mat as soon as I roll it out. “No. No.” I say, picking him up and moving him.

Off the mat.”

It quickly becomes a game. I try to hold both my composure and my ground. A part of me wishes that I wasn’t on zoom for all to see my struggle. The other part of me doesn’t care, confident that my peeps (who are both my peers and my students) don’t care. The practice continues. I use the gate intermittently to create some physical separation (hoping to better illustrate the command). The familiar potty whine comes. We take it outdoors. Then go back inside only to find that Simba (our 9 year old dog) has joined the party.

I am on the verge of tears and just about ready to throw in the towel, when Kobe lies down for a nap. I finish up my practice to get ready for my first meeting of the day…thankful for having not gave up.

sthira bhaga



While LIVE on our Mysore ZOOM, I flow through my morning practice with an acute awareness that my teacher is watching. Not only is she watching, she is waiting for me to finish up my second series already so that she can see what progress I’ve made in the third series poses she gave me last week.

But my practice is slow today and my coffee has yet to kick in. Gasp if you wish; I don’t care what you think. I NEED my COFFEE.

As I lay on my back, working to place my lower leg behind my shoulders, I notice the moon through the window in front of me. In the window of the adjoining bedroom, I can also see the sun’s blessed light. It’s lovely and a part of me wants to spend another 5-10 breaths in yoga nidrasana. But then I remember my teacher. She’s watching. I hear her call the name of one of the other students. The last time she called his name, he was at pasasana, and I was 3-4 poses ahead in the series. I can tell by her words that he is now working on pincha mayurasana. It is clear that today’s practice has not been flowing as steadily as it should. I suppose the time I spent crying BEFORE going into kapotasana slowed me up…a little. Yeah, that was unexpected.

*sigh*

“Okay Juls,” I tell myself (quietly, as my computer is no longer on mute), “just breathe and get moving.” I limp along to the end of second and arrive at third with 30ish minutes until my work meeting. I am sore but have more energy today than last week. I might go well. I mean, miracles DO happen. Right!

WRONG!

Third Series has been described as “Divine stability; sublime serenity.” Reading this description sure makes it sound nice. Right? And, it IS nice. But it’s also HARD. The journey to this point is far from stable or serene (without the added pressure of having it be divine or sublime on top of that). I’m not complaining; I asked for this and I am happy to take it on. Lord knows my side body is weak and could benefit from a little stability – and serenity. My teacher knows this as well.

Nonetheless, I must admit that the difficulty that I am experiencing feels foreign yet satisfying. It feels right to finally be working on creating stability in the side body. And although there are moments when I question if I really deserve to be have these poses, I am super grateful that my teacher has allowed me to go here.

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Let’s Get Real



On Wednesday, before stepping onto my mat, I connected to the Mysore zoom meeting and set up my phone to record my practice. My initial thought was that I might record a video of my practice through half primary series, then add voice over instruction later on. However, once I got going, my practice seemed to just flow.

This was not my usual experience. For one, I generally go straight into intermediate series after parsvotanasana, only doing primary series on Fridays. Once I got to navasana, I decided to keep going. And once I’d finished some semblance of setu bandhasana, I was inspired to continue to intermediate series. By the time I finished, I’d done all the poses in both series plus the bookends (surya namaskara, standing poses, and the closing sequence). About a 3 hour practice in total, and I was energized!

It sounds pretty good, eh? Well, it was far from perfection but the experience was pretty sweet. I somehow managed to get my feet into lotus during my karandavasana attempt, then burst into laughter when my derrière landed on my mat with a loud thud. A few poses later, I was thrilled to have lift off of both my feet and face in mayurasana. But my elbows pushing into my stomach caused an audible release of air from my butt. I laughed so hard that I lost the magical lift I’d achieved. Thank God my sound was muted on the zoom call.

And, it was all caught on video.

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expectations



One morning, while en route to yoga, I questioned why I was even going. My body ached something fierce and my mind was far from finding acceptance with how I was feeling. It was hard not to set an expectation for a “bad practice.” I reminded myself to have an open mind and not judge what was to come. After all, that *is* the point of the practice: the same sequence of poses, done in the same order, 6 days per week unfolding in a new way each time.

The radio played as I creeped along the freeway. I shook my head, surprised to find traffic so heavy this early in the morning. Ahead of me, the clouds (both dark and light), caught just a hint of the sunlight. It was beautiful and immediately made me feel grateful to have slowed down just enough to notice. Just like that, my mind shifted and I smiled thinking how easily the bad can be turned  into something just a little bit better.

As for my practice, I do not recall how far into it before I became aware that I was no longer feeling any signs of discomfort. I guess, like the sunlight behind the clouds, the body to which I awakened also had a few surprises for me. A short while later, even though the pain had left, I told my teacher that I wasn’t sure how deep of a kapotasana I had to offer. A few deep slow breaths into the pose, I felt a sudden wave of release. She had said, “Let go,” and so I did. I let go of fear, my need to protect my heart, and I let go of expectations…at least for a time. And this too was new, for I’ve been holding on to a lot lately.

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Learning to Count



During my preparation to teach the class that would ultimately decide if I was certification-worthy or not, I began working on learning the traditional vinyasa count in Sanskrit. Over the years, I have committed to learning the Sanskrit name of the poses in my given practice. For me, it is part of the practice; in a sense, learning the name is like taking ownership of the pose. Although I have made a point to know when and where the inhalations and exhalations occur, learning the traditional count was never something I felt compelled to learn.

Until… I was asked to substitute teach the Led Primary class at a newer yoga studio in the Bay Area. The led class occurs weekly at many studios and serves as a complement to the students’ regular Mysore practice. While the student follows their own breathing pattern during their Mysore practice, they learn efficiency when asked to keep their practice married to the teacher’s count (which may be faster or slower than their usual pace). In this led class, the teacher calls out the names of the poses in Sanskrit along with traditional vinyasa count and, often, not a lot of other verbal cuing. Because the student already knows the sequence, there doesn’t need to be a lot of other direction.

So, I set out to learn it, naïve to the complexity that I would soon face. I quickly learned that it is not as easy as 1-2-3… There are poses which used to begin with a full vinyasa beginning from ekam (1) standing at the top of the mat, arms rise, and so on. These poses now have only a half vinyasa where the count begins with the student jumping through to seated from adho mukha svanasana (downdog) and therefore the count begins at sapta (7). That was the least of my confusion. There were other instances where the count reverted back somewhere in the previous number sequence, sometimes repeatedly, other times only once. After a few days of carefully reviewing various recordings and writings of the practice, I became completely overwhelmed to the point of tears. It wasn’t until my teacher shared with me that “traditional” count was not at all traditional in the sense that every teacher doesn’t call it out exactly the same. She advised me to just learn when and where the inhale and exhale goes for the test out and even upcoming the led class. Then, keep working on learning the count and, over time, it will come.

And, while I don’t believe that learning the vinyasa count makes you any better of a student, I wonder if learning it somehow energetically creates a stronger bond to the flow of the practice in a similar way to my commitment to learning the names of the poses as a way to “own” the poses are part of MY practice. It’s just a thought. What do YOU think?

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