Amendment

I'd like to amend the previous post. After a hot yoga class today, my Ashtanga teacher (who happened to be at the studio) came over to talk to me. She asked me about coming back to practice, and I just broke down crying. I told her that everything hurts, that my hamstrings, hips, back, everything's tight. I lost my flexibility over winter break when I was at home and got stressed out. I can't even bend forward that well anymore. She told me to breathe. And to just. Let. Go. I guess I blame myself for so many things, and am struggling so hard to find my footing right now. To be honest, I feel overwhelmed and it's like the world is spinning. Things aren't easy right now. I wasn't breathing. We talked for a long time. About how the practice is not just a physical one. About how it is something that I have that can ground me during this difficult time. She reminded me of when she was in the hospital (the same one where I go to medical school, incidentally!) - I'd visited her there between classes, when I first started studying with her. After her hospitalization, she had to start over, not comparing her current practice with how it was before. She asked me why I push myself so hard. I push myself hard in every aspect of my life. Why is it that I have to force myself to do things that I don't like? There is no reason for that. I told her I had been doing that for my entire life. That I felt like if I didn't do the right things then people won't like me anymore. She reminded me that it's about doing things that are true to myself and loving myself for who I am and being with people who love me for who I am, not for the things I can do. I told her about wanting to go to India, and asked if she had suggestions for places. She said to just travel, because I'll make myself go crazy right now if I try to practice there. I told her that I'm so bad at doing nothing. That I can't just do nothing. I don't know how to do that. Everything always has to be for a reason. She told me to take my mat with me to India, and the beauty of Ashtanga is that it can be practiced anywhere, by myself.

I realized yoga is not about pushing. It's about letting go. Why is it that people say Ashtanga is intense or competitive or too hard or aggressive? It's not the practice that's too hard, or intense, or competitive. We make it that way with our egos.

Back to the basics.

"Let go."

"Breathe."

And the amazing thing was, as I breathed, let go of all the tension and expectations and worries and concerns, I felt my muscles relaxing. As I sit and write this now, I am feeling significantly less pain. I was crying all the way home on the subway and in my room, got some strange glances along the way Uptown, but it was so necessary. It's as if the good cry and talk and just breathing has changed things. I hadn't even allowed myself a truly good cry after making the big decision, and I guess everything just came out.

This was a good lesson for me to learn. My teacher told me that too many people are afraid to change, and they'd rather just continue on the same miserable way. Twenty years down the line, it's even harder to change, and it doesn't get any easier.

The practice has taught me courage, for sure.

Be back on the mat on Sunday, learning to let go. I'll be hopefully practicing in a gentle way, a slower way, and a way that is not perfectionistic. The beginner's mind...

Ashtanga Teachings

It's snowing outside, here in NYC! I haven't seen it snow this hard before, and I keep staring out at the window in amazement! Anyhow, here are some Ashtanga illustrations that I saw online. They're very cute. I like the pasasana one in particular.

I learned a lot from regular Ashtanga practice over the course of last semester. Ashtanga is like a mirror. It allows you to observe yourself and see yourself as you are. But that's only if you dare to do so. As one of my fellow work-study students at the studio remarked, "There's so much ego in that room!" It's easy to look at one's neighbor and compare practices, when in actuality, who gets a medal for completing Primary Series, starting Intermediate Series, or reaching Advanced Series?

Ashtanga taught me to turn my gaze inward, and see myself. It taught me to listen to my own body, mind, and spirit. There are real consequences when I don't, as I'm experiencing now. I realized that I let so many people push me beyond my capacity all these years. I allowed that to happen by not listening to my own voice and not standing up for myself. I became a disciplined automaton, taking on discipline and achievement for its own sake, rather than as a means to an end, sacrificing my sense of happiness.

On January 22, it will be three years since I took my first Ashtanga yoga class in PE at UC Berkeley. Yoga, in general, has changed my life more than anything else, and has given me hope that change - make that change leading to freedom - is possible. I write this now as I decide consciously to step away from Ashtanga practice for a while. I realize that I may have overindulged in this practice over the course of last semester, but that in itself has taught me something. I'm not closing the door on returning to this practice in the future, but for now, I need to do something gentler, something slower, something that doesn't feed into my rigid disciplinarian tendencies. I realize that no one method of yoga is THE method. There are right seasons for each and every practice. Part of practicing yoga is to know which is for when.

I'll close this post with one quote that I learned through Ashtanga practice: "Why fear?"

Courage, and the willingness to try and risk. Vande gurunam!

Into the Unknown

Today is an interesting day. The date itself, October 10, 2010 (10/10/10), is special. It is also the birthday of the Republic of China (a.k.a. Taiwan). On a personal level, though, today was the first day I did dropbacks on my own. "Dropbacks" in Ashtanga Yoga refer to dropping from a standing, vertical position, into a backbend on the ground (urdhva dhanurasana, upward-facing bow pose). I'd been doing this on and off for more than a year, always being helped and spotted by my teachers. I'd never felt very comfortable with it until lately, since I had in general never felt very comfortable with backbends. I prefer forward bends. The chest-opening, heart-opening sensation of backbends didn't feel liberating to me, as it does to many. It was more like...scary and uncomfortable. I felt like I'd never do it on my own, and really, I didn't want to. So I always dutifully waited for my teachers at the end of the Primary Series when the backbend portion needs to be done, and they'd help me drop back, stand up, drop back, stand up, etc. Fortunately, I particularly feel like I can trust my current teachers in terms of physical manipulation, which was how I began to feel more and more comfortable with doing backbends.

Well, I'd known before moving here that NYC Ashtanga teachers are strict and don't let you just sidle through practice however you wish. My teachers here definitely live up to that reputation. One of them has been telling me during every practice that I "must" stand up from the backbend into a vertical position. I try, but haven't been able to stand up quite yet. But today, I was able to drop back on my own! I think it's a mixture of trusting your teacher (who says you're ready, and it's up to you to believe them), trusting yourself (ultimately, you have to do it on your own), and a trust in the process/practice/spirit of the thing in general (who knows what might happen?). I dropped back. I tried standing up, but ended up falling on the crown of my head. How do you make a room full of serious Ashtangis laugh? Fall on your head, banging the hardwood floor, crying out "OW!," immediately getting the attention of your teachers, who ask you if you're OK, and you sheepishly affirm that indeed you are fine, and laugh about it.

I'm not training to be a gymnast. Though it seems like yoga can be a series of contortions, the use of the body in yoga is directly linked with understanding and developing oneself. You might agree in theory that faith and trust are crucial in spiritual growth, but when push comes to shove, are you willing to fall into the unknown? I wasn't even willing to drop backwards into a backbend on my own, let alone trust my existence to God, or anything like that. Dropbacks are particularly symbolic and significant towards developing courage, faith, and trust. For me, this is more difficult than doing many chaturanga dandasanas (a.k.a. push-ups), despite how tiring and pain-ridden my muscles might become. It's somewhat within the realm of my control to stretch, to do push-ups, to balance. But falling backwards, there's a split second when control is out of your hands, and you must let gravity do its thing. And I did fall today (luckily my head is fine), but I realized that falling isn't a big deal. I was able to do something I've never done before. And these small moments of personal transcendence are something to be treasured.

Now, I will just have to learn how to stand up!