For My Teachers

I teach my first public yoga class in 10 hours and 15 minutes.

I guess I'm nervous, but mostly I'm just excited.  I've heard people talk about, when they start doing something they knew they were always meant to do, they have a great sense of arriving.  That's exactly how I feel.  I feel like I should have been doing this all along.  I know I will mess up tonight and many, many times in the future, to the extent that "messing up" is even possible in yoga (and I don't think it is).  I know I've been a teacher and a student for a long time.  Still, tonight is a milestone.

In recognition of that milestone, I would like to express my tremendous, ongoing gratitude to the teachers that have helped me get to this point.  I could speak generally to the teachers that have informed my life, which of course animates my practice, but then I'd be here all day, and what began as a mild procrastination before I calculated _________________________ (INSERT CONFIDENTIAL WORK BUSINESS HERE) would turn into a serious productivity drain.  No one wants that.  

So in the interest of brevity, let me a send a namaste to the five people that have had the greatest influence on my practice of asana.

Lori Burgwyn and Deb Lazer, you taught me that a studio could be a community.  You provided the space for my practice and my heart to grow, and you always went above and beyond to support my progress.  That you do so for all of your students is a humbling lesson I will try to keep in mind with my own students.  Namaste.

Mike Lyons and Andrea Martinez, you taught me that grace under pressure was not only possible but the place to be.  In the middle of all the noise and the chaos of the universe, there is a place of deep quiet and total peace, and I don't think I would understand that nearly as thoroughly without your teachings.  Namaste.

Nancy Shelly, you are my favorite yoga teacher ever.  You got me to go to my first yoga class, then reminded me of yoga when I was hunched over a desk finishing my dissertation and complaining about my back.  Everything that has happened since stems from that moment, so any good I've accomplished in the practice of yoga or will accomplish in its teaching is your good too.  I love you so much. Namaste.

Now, who's up for some yoga?

The Road Map to Happiness

Elephant Journal has a great article in which Julian Walker discusses the meaning of asana, or the physical practice of yoga.  I can't recommend it enough.

I posted it on Mike Lyons' FB wall.  Like any good yoga teacher, he challenged me, probably without even meaning to.  Specifically, he wondered about my reaction to the comments that maintained that the physical practice of yoga is deeply rooted in ancient Indian tradition, a point with which Walker disagrees.  I reacted on his wall, and I'd like to expand upon what I wrote here.

I tend to think of what happens at places like the Greatest Yoga Studio Ever as the starting point on a treasure map.  It's not the starting point for the quest, of course.  Something got the map into your hands, and nothing has a clean beginning or ending anyway.  But when you go to enough modern US physical yoga class, you start to realize that there is something to this "yoga" thing.  On the most mundane level, your body should feel a whole lot better, but a lot of people can't escape the feeling that yoga offers more than "just" relief from physical pain.

And what happens from there is entirely up to you and your desire to follow the map in pursuit of the treasure.  The map can be hard to follow, but it's all right there.  The physical practice can make you want to meditate, pursue a spiritual teacher, give up meat, live a more compassionate life, and so on and so forth.  I actually do believe that once one comes to view yoga as central to his or her identity, one has taken the first step on a path that can lead to nirvana.

There are some pretty sizable caveats, however.

1. No two people get the exact map or the exact same final destination.
2. Point number 1 means a lot of people are going to make a lot of choices you don't understand.
3. Capitalism has also become pretty damn good at exploiting point number 1 to sell you things that they say should be on your map but probably don't need to be and even shouldn't be.
4. As a consequence of #3, you're going to find yourself struggling with some very unyogic emotions, thoughts, etc. about much of what passes for yoga.
5. Yoga's certainly not the only way to get to your goal.  Buddha would say you're at your final destination right now, and your task is just to get out of your own way.  If that sounds good to you, maybe you should read Buddhism: Plain and Simple rather than going to an asana class.  Maybe you should go for a run.  Maybe you should work on your motorcycle.
6. Why do you need a goal, anyway?

I guess I think the ultimate value of asana is that it's something you do every day for its own sake.  I've come to believe that if you do anything at all long enough and consistently enough, you will do that thing through something like the full range of things we can experience.  You'll rejoice and struggle and, if you're paying attention, learn how to rejoice in the struggle.

The other great thing that asana can give you is its failure.  I will never do every possible pose, and someone will always do better and more poses than me.  Most importantly, consistent asana practice has not and will not solve all my problems.  The great gift here is that realization and the question that accompanies it: "Well, fuck.  Now what?"

That's the most important question there is.

If ashtanga or universal principles of alignment or some other physical practice seem to be moving you forward on your map, ignore everything I just said and keep practicing.  For all I know, I may end up right next to you.  I reserve the right to change my opinion and reject any and all of this in the future.  After all, I have no idea where I am on my map, other than a vague notion that I am moving in the right direction.

Yoga as Identity

When I tell people I do yoga, I'm always surprised at how many of them are apologetic that they, too, do not do yoga, as if failing to do yoga was some type of sin.  After a conversation last week, I think I finally understand this reaction.  The general bobo population may be used to aggressive missionary sermons from yogis about how awesome yoga is.

But that begs another question.  Why would so many yogis care if other people did yoga?  It's hard enough to find a space for your mat at the 5:45 class at the World's Greatest Yoga Studio.

The Babarazzi hit on part of the answer with their hilarious and scathing discussion of asana as signifier.  If my experience is any guide, yoga can become a central part of one's identity very quickly.    The Spectacle recognizes this and has developed numerous ways for yogis to signify to the outside world that they are serious about this yoga thing.  You can practice on your Manduka mat in your Lulu pants and hit Whole Foods for some quinoa on the way home.  The capitalist pig dogs will nod earnestly until you turn around, then chuckle and count the money.  The Spectacle has plenty of non-financial ways to participate, like fancy asanas or (ahem) blogging.  As long as you're worried about whether others regard you as a serious yogi (or a serious sports fan or faberge egg collector or whatever), you're firmly caught in the Spectacle's web, and It's pretty sure you'll eventually buy stuff.

While the Babarazzi nailed the diagnosis, their bedside manner is shit.  The problem with so much cultural criticism is that it's wrapped in so much hipster condescension, as if the authors can't believe that anyone would be so lame as to care what other people think.  Caring what other people think is a natural urge that is essential to any effort to establish community.  Yes, capitalism exploits that urge.  Yes, people fall for the capitalist commodity version of community and everything else over the real thing way, way too frequently.  But, like, shouldn't those of us who recognize that cycle want to help break it?  Shouldn't we want to help people experience the real benefits of yoga, one of which is that you can stop caring so much about hitting a handstand?  If so, snark is a bad idea, because snark alienates.  When I act superior, I am not likely to be heard or respected.

And truth be told, looking down your nose at people who try too hard to show how yoga they are is a pretty effective way to communicate to others how yoga you are.

For whatever my amateur opinion is worth, my answer to both the problem the Babarazzi diagnosed and the problem with the diagnosis is to let go.  You don't need Lulu to practice, and you don't need to condescend to point people on the right path.

And now, for no reason, hilarity.

When You Need Yoga

I haven't been writing about yoga as much lately.  It hasn't been a conscious decision.  Someone who shall remain nameless teased me that TWEDP had turn into a yoga-exclusive blog.  Being a contrarian, I suppose my subconscious could be driving me to write about other things as a way to prove him wrong, but I don't even think that's the case.  For one thing, other stuff has been grabbing my attention.

The bigger issue is that yoga has been relatively tough for me lately.  I've been traveling a lot.  While I'm still keeping up with the physical practice of yoga, I'm doing so at times of the day to which my body isn't accustomed.  Mostly, though, the problem is stress.  On Monday, I move out of my apartment and into the great unknown.  The stress of moving and looking for a job has made asana practice, meditation, and mindful living much more difficult.  My muscles are tight as a drum, and even the best classes at the World's Greatest Yoga Studio fail to fully loosen them up.  Stress is also allowing old insecurities to manifest themselves much more easily, which makes living joy, equanimity, compassion, and kindness much more difficult.

...and I don't know how to make an artful transition to say what I want to say next, which is that I'm incredibly proud of myself.  I recognize how thoroughly terrified I am, and I am doing my best to work with that feeling to get through that feeling.  I'm still on my mat 4-5 times a week, even if I'm having a harder time hitting poses that I generally take for granted.  I'm still sitting down to mediate (almost) every night, even if calming the mind is impossible.  I'm still reading the Sutras (almost) every night before I go to bed.  Life has thrown some fairly significant obstacles at me, but I'm still here.  I'm still present.  I'm still mindful.

All of this makes me recall the guy who showed up for his first yoga class this past Monday.  Our instructor's profound philosophy towards beginner yoga can be summed up with the ancient yogic maxim "sink or swim," so this poor kid got a full-on FSY class.  As we were walking out, he was moving so slowly he could have been limping if I didn't know better, if I didn't know that feeling where every muscle in your body is clenched up and movement seems impossible.

And yet he had the biggest smile on his face.

Word up, kid.  If you keep showing up, so will I.

Kicking Ass to Live

I read an article over at Elephant Journal last week that talked about how asana is only one limb of yoga, although we Americans tend to treat it as the end all and be all, and how advanced practionners should move past the need to hit every pose every time.  Right on.  I've written about the very same things in this space.

However...

Over the last week, life stayed heavy, when I thought it was getting lighter.  I broke under the load a little bit.  I spent the weekend on my couch with ESPN.  I needed the break, but I woke up today knowing that I needed to get back in the game.  I needed to work out the stress that I had accumulated.  So what I needed was an ass-kicking hour and a half of yoga.  I needed to sweat the pain away.  

Asana isn't the only thing, except when it is.

A Valentine for You

Having done a lot of gratitude posts lately, I was a little hesitant to go forward with the following concept for Valentine's Day.  I'm also conscious of not blowing up anyone's spot.  I guess it's ok to put people's names in these blog entries, but I do want to respect the privacy of everyone, especially the people for which I am most grateful.

But then I thought again.  The world needs nothing so much as it needs joy, equanimity, compassion, and kindness.  In that spirit, Happy Valentine's Day to everyone, but especially to the following people.  I'm keeping names out of it, but I'll be as specific as I can so you know when you're getting shouted out.

The Anthem.  Get Your Damn Hands Up

• To my family, for everything ever but especially for their support over the last year.
• To my professional colleagues who have stood by me through the last year.  I learned that the upper boundary of the best behavior from caring, dedicated professionals is much higher than I had thought.
• To my friends  who have been with me from the jump.  I could not have made it through without you.
• To my friends who I just connected with over the past year.  You've made life in North Carolina richer and more fun than I thought possible.
• To everyone who has contributed to my yoga practice ever.
• To all the students I have had the pleasure of teaching.
• To the airplanes and internet providers that keep me close with all of the above.
• To the sun, the moon, the sky, the earth, and the spirit.
• To Lindsey Andrews, whose former FB profile pick I've been looking for an excuse to steal for months.  Words to live by.

Where Eagles Dare

Did I title this post just to get Philly peeps and Danzig fans to click on the Facebook link?

Would I do something so underhanded just to drive blog traffic?

Click on the link for MORE PANDERING

But this post is not about the NFL franchise that is most painful to support.

Nor is it about 80s punk-metal goodness.

This post is about my new favorite yoga pose.

Because I've got a fairly high center of gravity and long, spindly legs, yoga poses where I balance on one leg are relatively challenging for me.  The challenge is double for eagle pose, which I fondly remember Rodney Yee once calling "wobbly."  

You don't have to have ever done yoga to appreciate how funky Eagle Pose is.  Just look at that picture.  Legs and arms wrapped around one another and jutting out at all angles, and one is supposed to stay upright on one leg?  One is supposed to hold that for 30 seconds?  Especially when yoga teachers love to save it for the last 20 minutes of class, when my poor, spindly legs are already dying?

What I remembered during today's practice at The World's Greatest Yoga Studio is that when I adopt the attitude I just described, my Eagle Pose is doomed before I move a single muscle.  

And that Eagle Pose is a metaphor for life.

Think about it.  What makes Eagle Pose, or any pose, difficult?  Gravity?  The ground?  Your mat?  Friend, those things are constant.  Rain or shine, good practice or bad, gravity will always pull down and your mat will always be the same color and texture.  Isn't that a little bit like the world?  When I go outside, the world will still be the same as it was yesterday and as it will be tomorrow.  Jerks will still be jerks.  Traffic will still be traffic.

The real difficulties in both Eagle Pose and life are mostly a function of things we do to ourselves.  In Eagle Pose, I always want to make sure that my arms and legs are as twisted as they can be, that I'm as low to the floor as possible, and that my back is straight as can be.  In short, I try to do too much.  And, inevitably, when I'm trying to be Super Yogi, Eagle Pose kicks my ass.

Life?  Dawg, I have a job and am going to have a job well into the future.  I've got money enough to pay the rent, eat, drink, and fly somewhere whenever I please.  So why am I so worried about job security?  Why do I get myself twisted in knots trying to make sure I'm doing everything perfectly?  Why do I have to find the exact right step for my future, and why do I have to find it now?

I don't.

I can relax into the pose and into life.  

When I am not trying to be Super Yogi, Eagle Pose is bliss.  When I relax, I'm not sure that there's a pose that feels better for my hips and my shoulders.  

In life, I will do the best I can do today and trust that all is coming.  That means I work hard each and every day to maximize my chances at the best possible future, but I recognize I can't wave a magic wand and make all of my problems disappear today.  I will do the best I can today, in this moment, and that is always enough.

And if you made it this far, you've earned your punk-metal awesomeness.

All Tomorrow's Parties

Yesterday, I finished an article, did some job stuff, and worked on some student council stuff.

Tomorrow, I will start an article, do some job stuff, and work on some student council stuff.

Today, however, I will relax and try to listen.

Thanks to Jane and Lori for the image.

Is Ice Cube Appropriate in Yoga Class?

Here at TWEDP, we strive to educate our readers. In that spirit, we present the following comment that regular reader and yoga teacher extrordinare Andrea M. left on our FB wall:

“Seriously considered it as an option for rock your asana but then retracted last minute for fear of offending the tribe, who might not appreciate its eloquence.”

The “it” in question?

Now, I don’t know what kind of world Andrea lives in, but a world in which one cannot play Ice Cube freely in every situation is one in which the Taliban has already won.

But in MY world, the Taliban has not won!

In this world, Barack Obama jumped out a helicopter from 1,000 feet with no parachute, killed 17 Taliban nutjob guards using the ancient art of shadowboxing, and ripped Osama Bin Laden’s heart from his chest with his bare hands.

Barack Obama did not defend our freedom just to see us give us the very freedom that drove his vengeance.

So, for my country, I give you

A Spirited Argument To Play Ice Cube’s “Today Was a Good Day” in Yoga Class

Lyrics are in italics. Passionate ranting in regular font.  From the start, I should make it clear that I will concentrate on only those lyrics relevant to the practice of yoga.  Lots of rappers say lots of stuff.

Just waking up in the morning gotta thank God

I should be able to stop after this one line. Ice Cube's entire purpose in writing this song was to express gratitude. Here, he expresses gratitude for the new born day with a terse eloquence that the Dali Lama himself can appreciate, if not match. Gratitude may not be one of the four brahmavihāras towards which Master Patanjali points us, but gratitude is an extremely important virtue in yoga. If I'm not mistaken, the current sign in the front of the world's greatest yoga studio ever is one word, and it isn't "Shelly" (yet).

That sign says gratitude.

No barking from the dog, no smog
And momma cooked a breakfast with no hog

So what is Ice Cube grateful for? First, he is grateful for a clean environment. We yogis like the environment. You may have seen us driving our hybrids to yoga and eating expensive but pesticide-free organic food. We also like non violence, not just to fellow people but to animals as well. The masters are pretty clear that one fully devoted to yoga will give up meat entirely. Surely the masters would approve of Osage Jackson's refusal to touch that swine.

I got my grub on, but didn't pig out

Moderation. Ice Cube understands that gluttony disrupts equanimity, so he eats only what he needs to sustain himself.

Called up the homies and I'm askin y'all
Which park, are y'all playin basketball?

Physical activity is one of the eight limbs of yoga. Cube understands that a sharp body leads to a sharp mind, which is necessary for the meditation needed to achieve the highest states.

Plus nobody I know got killed in South Central L.A.
Today was a good day

First and foremost, Cube is grateful for life. Every day that you and your peoples all wake up is a good day. It's like Tibetan Buddhism in a Raiders hat and black Wranglers.

The Lakers beat the Supersonics

So a natural body of water defeated a sound only produced by a gas-guzzling, man-made artifice? Again, yogis love nature.

In conclusion, Ice Cube is a Zen prophet for the new era. TWEDP strongly endorses the playing of "Today Was a Good Day," "Black Korea," and other Cube classics in any and all yoga classes.

The Yoga Before Class

In their translation of The Yoga Sutras, Geshe Michael Roach and Christie McNally use a movie metaphor to explain our relationship to reality.  They say that when a kid sees a man doing something wrong on a movie screen, he might tell the character to stop, or he might try to restrain the man.  Neither one will work.

Their point is, most of the problems we think we face are exactly like the example.  The choices we most naturally see usually address symptoms of the problem, not the underlying problem itself.  Until we can identify and fix the underlying problem, we are destined to make the wrong choice, and our suffering will continue.

One of my projects lately has been to try to identify the real issues behind conflicts I feel, to ask myself whether the options that I see in front of me address mere symptoms and whether the situation offers me any opportunity to plant new seeds that will lead to a better set of choices in the future.

At no time have I thought more about all of this than the five minutes before my yoga class.  The truth is that I care a whole lot about how I am regarded at what is, in my incredibly biased view, the best fLKLing yoga studio on the planet.  There's no real reason for me to worry.  My studio is an accepting and nurturing space.  Yet I worry, for no reason I could ever identify, what the teachers, staff, and other yogis think of me.

In the spirit of planting new and better seeds, let's see if we can peel back the onion and figure out a little bit of what the real cause of my concern is.  Because they're the ones getting paid, let's talk about the instructors.  I definitely, definitely care about what a few of the instructors at Franklin Street think of me.  Why might that be?

Because I like people, and I like to connect with those I see on a regular basis?  Yup, sans doute, as my French friend Colette would say.

Because these instructors are kind and wonderful people?  Yes they are, and those are definitely the type of people whose admiration and respect matters to me.  So far, so good.

Because they are advanced practitioners of something about which I care deeply and have dedicated a good part of my life?  Yeah, ok, but I'm starting to feel a little nervous.

Because...

AHA!!

Because they are the teachers, and I am used to getting As?

Because I want to be Super Yogi, the best yogi in the whole class and the object of admiration for all who behold me?

Because I want to win?

...and is some part of me trying to win yoga by writing this blog right now?

Hmm.  Hmm hmm hmm.

Keep in mind that I don't think either of these four potential reasons is innately better than the others.  I won't diss my competitive urges, because they've gotten me pretty far in life.  That said, when I walk into my studio, in addition to all the wonderful feelings and the completely awesome joy of seeing friends again, I do have a hint of insecurity, and that insecurity is something I want to move past.

Knowledge is power.  Lately I've been trying to take steps to fight the urge to win yoga.  In the first Warrior or Down Dog, I'm trying to let my body warm up, rather than going for it right away.  When my legs just aren't feeling it, I do a quick straighten, I shake it out a little bit, and I go back into the pose.  I'm trying not to hold poses any more just for the sake of, I MUST HOLD THIS POSE BECAUSE I AM A YOGI, DAMNIT.

And it all feels great.  It feels right.

I wonder if I could get to be as good a friend with that anonymous person in the back row as I am with Lori.

Pain and Gratitude

One of the things I have discovered in the first couple weeks of this project is that it has allowed me to start to talk about things I have previously been uncomfortable talking about.

So.

Let's talk about pain.

If you're a reader this close to TWEDP's inception, you probably know me fairly well, so you know 2011 was an incredibly rough year.  My 2011 ended 8 days ago, as did the Really Bad and Unfair Thing (which we'll call REBUT, because it's funny).  Of course, REBUT may be over, but I have a lot of hurt, anger, frustration, helplessness, disbelief, and fear left.

In short, I have a sadness.

Because I tend to compare things maybe a little too much, I've started to think about the last time I had this big a sadness about me nine years ago.  For all the similarities, the two major differences between 2003 and now are most important.

One, the stuff that happened in 2003 was much, much worse.  At the end of the day, if the people you love are still around, you're doing ok.

Two, I am so much better equipped to deal with pain now.  Age and experience, and the growth and perspective and wisdom that come with it, are just about the most valuable things we can have.  If you're significantly younger than I am, know that it really, truly does get better, not just because tough times don't last but because you start to know that they won't last and you better understand how to bide your time and deal until they end.

Yoga also gets a shout out here.  Through yoga, I have learned to accept what I can't change.  When I was 25, the idea of being really, really sad mad me think I was somehow broken and inferior.  So, in addition to being sad, I was frantic all the time about why I was so sad.  As you can imagine, this combination of sad and frantic did not produce optimal results.

Now, though--ok, I've got a sadness, just like I did before.  That sadness is going to be around for awhile.  I will do everything I can to make sure it leaves as quickly as possible, but I'm not going to try to chase it off with a torch and pitchfork.  It'll be here until it goes, and that's ok.  In the meantime, I might as well make friends with the sadness.  We spend a lot of time reading bad Star Wars books and staring out the window at nothing in particular.  That's what the sadness wants to do, and really, it's not that bad.  I like Star Wars.

Once I accepted the sadness, I could put it into some sort of perspective, which makes it pretty easy to remember that's not all I've got.  I've got the best, best, best mom and dad on Earth.  I've finally got a crew of filthy Durhamites who make the South feel like home.  I've got a disturbingly loyal friend that calls me every day for no particular reason and with whom I share at least 50 percent of a brain.  I've got a yoga community with classes that keep me challenged and instructors who seem to sense when I could really use a compliment.  I've got an organization that trusts little ol' me to follow in the footsteps of a legend and teach 100 high school kids how to be better leaders and people.

LOVINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN IS WHAT I GOT.

(Couldn't resist)

Yup, I got a sadness, but I got a lot of other things that make the sadness seem far less daunting and ensure the sadness isn't going to stick around.  In the meantime, sad sucks, but it's not the worst thing on Earth.

Being Chelsea Handler is.

And if it's Saturday, PANDAS

Why I Do Yoga

When I was finishing my dissertation eight years ago, I sat in a lousy office chair for way too many hours a day. Unsurprisingly, my back hurt all the time.  When I told my mom, she suggested I try some yoga.  I had done classes with her a few years earlier and dug them, so I figured I'd give it a whirl.  I added in about ten minutes a day of basic asanas (poses) into my existing workout routine.

Within three days, my back pain was gone.

Today, sometimes I get questions about why I do so much yoga, and I have made it a point not to make my answer more complicated than it needs to be.  My first answer to that question is always, "Without it, my back would hurt."  All the other amazing, profound, monumental changes the practice has made in my life flow from that first truth.

Which is why the latest New York Times' trolling of yogis is kind of funny.

Can you get hurt doing yoga?  Yes and no.

On one hand, DUH.  If you're in a contemporary American yoga class, you're probably very interested in the fitness aspects of the practice, so you're pushing your body to do things with which it is not entirely comfortable.  Combine that with the general Type A-ness of our culture.  Gee, do you think there's a chance you might try a handstand before you have the necessary form and strength and ufck up your shoulder?  I did.

On the other hand, if you hurt yourself doing yoga, 

A wise woman and fantastic teacher always tells her students to do less, as any yoga instructor worth her salt will do.  Part of the practice of yoga is learning the limits of your body and where the line is that separates an honest and wonderful effort to improve your physical being from a destructive desire to hit a pose regardless of the consequences, damn the torpedoes GRRRR.  Once you're into that mentality, you're not doing yoga.

I look around at other yogis in class more than I probably should.  These days, I find myself most interested in watching those yogis who I know have been practicing for years but have (l)earned the humility and good judgement to know when to come out of a pose and/or curl up in a little ball.  Child's Pose might be the most important pose for our way-too-busy, way-too-aggressive society to practice.  Going with the flow and accepting your limitations is at the heart of yoga.

And the good news is, the more you learn to do that, the more poses you actually can hit, so you'll look hot too.

Coming tomorrow: why, if I were a NYT editor, I would troll yogis too.