Forget your perfect offering...

A month just flew by in the blink of an eye.  Time is strange here.  The days are impossibly long, and yet the accumulative passing of them goes by in a flash.  I still have another week in Mysore, and many people have already left or are in the process of leaving this weekend.  There is much to catch up on since my last post, but mostly, if there's anything to know, it's that practice is practice is practice, whether you're at home or halfway around the world in Mysore, whether you're strong and rockin it or injured and crawling your way through the vinyasas.

In the last few weeks practice has taken an interesting plot twist for me.  I caught the bind in supta kurmasana just a day or two after my last blog, got moved on to the next bit of primary, the garbha pindasana to kukkutasana bit, then the following week got to go ahead with full primary.  Doing full primary means I'd get to work on dropping back.  But then a week and a half ago, I felt something pop in the right side of my chest as I was doing backbends from the ground.  I wasn't pushing myself to my edge, I was very much working within the realm of what's possible and even comfortable for me.  As I came back down to the ground, I was in serious pain.  If the pain had been on my left side, I would have seriously thought I was a having heart attack.  I couldn't finish the rest of the closing sequence, so I sat up, did the closing mantra, rolled up my mat and went home to lay down.  Next day I was in serious pain, literally crawling through the vinyasas.  I rested for a few days, since we had a moon day, then led class which I skipped, then Saturday off.  Sunday I practiced at home and it was so painful all I could do was cry.  Later that morning, I went to an ayurvedic bodyworker to see if I could get some relief.  He told me, "Pain is good sign, noooo problem.  Only in mind is there problem.  Your heart is opening, madame.  Happiness coming soon.  Yes, love coming too... coming very soon, maybe three or four days only.  No worry, pain good sign..." *head wobble*  The second opinion I received was a little more sobering.  It looked like I may have separated the rib from the cartilage that attaches to the sternum, and that I was looking at a six week minimum recovery, and perhaps as long as six months.

Three or four days later, I was still suffering, and I was coming to terms with the more grim prognosis of a long recovery.  Things were rough, and I was doing my best to handle it with grace and surrender.  To add insult to the injury, I came down with some awful upper respiratory infection, coughing, sneezing, sinus pressure hell.  It already hurt to breathe, and then with every cough and sneeze it was like a knife in my ribs.  It was so painful.  I mean, what the fuck, Universe?  I come to Mysore, prepared for whatever is in store for me, ready and willing to suffer if need be, and yet, my predicament seemed beyond ridiculous (and somehow entirely appropriate).  Of all the sicknesses I could get in India, I get the one that hits me right in the chest where I was already injured?  (And as far as being sick in India goes, I think I prefer the coughing and sneezing over the alternatives... but still).  I was suffering so badly, and yet the irony was not at all lost on me.  I started laughing about it, which was also very painful, but I think that's when something shifted...

I found a little book called The Yoga of Beauty.  It talks of beauty as one part of the holy trinity of the Good, the True, the Beautiful.  The trick is finding beauty in things that are not pretty and perhaps downright ugly.  There is plenty of art that is aesthetically and/or emotionally challenging that I find beautiful.  Some of the most beautiful moments of my life were ones marked by hardship.  The thing that makes something beautiful is not a set of some formal characteristics which are pretty, but it is a whole accumulation and unfolding of moments that lead to an aesthetic experience.  The Japanese concept of wabi-sabi is a good example of how we can celebrate imperfection.  If a vase is broken, it is put back together in a way that adorns and embellishes the cracks instead of attempting to hide the imperfection.  And as the very wise Leonard Cohen says, there's a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in...

I went to talk to Sharath about modifying my practice and to get any advice he may have about my situation.  He told me to breathe into the pain, stabilize my mind on my breath, and to only do half primary and skip the vinyasas in between right side and left side.  And so I put my full trust in him and did just that.  Sharath said something in one of the conferences (I'll post full notes on those when I get a chance) that despite the ups and downs of life, Guruji always had an evenness about him.  He said life is like the streets of San Francisco, up down up down, you never know what is coming, but to find a steadiness and ease regardless of the terrain, that is one of the gifts and rewards of yoga.  And so I wondered, is it possible to have a great practice when I'm this down and out?  Can I find the beauty in this pain no matter how ugly things feel?  Whenever I've been in pain in the past, I always pick little projects for myself to focus on.  Like with my shoulder injury, since I couldn't work on building strength in the vinyasas, I decided to work on bandhas and lengthening in the forward bends.  With this current injury and sickness, I decided that I would find a steadiness and ease in my breath and mind and have a good practice the next day.  And I did.  To a casual observer, I'm sure I looked hobbled and suffering, but I would say the energetic quality of my practice was as sweet and focused as the days I feel strong and totally rockin.  Each day of practice this past week, I felt marginally better, just enough to renew my faith and not lose hope.  The measure of progress in the practice is not if I can get my legs behind my head or jump back with grace and ease, but it is if I am becoming a better person, more clear, more open, more loving... and I think that I am...

Last night it rained in Mysore.  First rain in many months.  The sun was setting, and I went for a walk to enjoy the thunder and rain.  I realized that the last few days the pain in my ribs shifted.  It feels less like suffering and more like opening.  Big opening, filled with much joy and gratitude.  And I realized that happiness is not coming, it is already here...

Every heart, 

every heart to love will come, 

like a refugee... 

Ring the bell that still can ring, 

forget your perfect offering. 

There's a crack, 

a crack in everything... 

that's how the light gets in,

that's how the light gets in...

~Leonard Cohen

When the center of the universe is a coconut stand...

When the center of the universe is a coconut stand... not a coconut, the coconut stand.  Of course there must be hundreds in Mysore, but you know the one I'm talking about, because your whole life revolves around it... 

My first week and a half in Mysore and I'm feeling the rhythm of things here like I've been here forever.  For as long as the days feel, they are also quite full.  I start my day with practice, Monday through Thursday are self-practice, and I start around 8am, although the time will keep moving up earlier and earlier as people keep leaving.  Friday and Sunday are led classes which start at either 430am or 6am.  Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I have chanting class in the morning after practice, and then Sanskrit and philosophy class later in the afternoon.  I love chanting, it is so beautiful.  I wish we did it every day.  The words and melodies stay with me all day long, echoing for hours with their beauty.  Sundays we have conference with Sharath, usually in the late afternoon.  Saturdays and full/new moon days we have for rest.  My experience so far has been filled with so much joy and happiness, lots of laughter bubbling to the surface, thoughtful & knowing smiles, so much brightness shining through.  I really enjoy my connection with Sharath.  Some love him, some fear him, some revere him... for me, it is all of these, and yet, most of our interactions look like this, filled with joy and laughter and a good amount of goofiness.  It is very much the same energy I experienced in the dream of him when he told me, "Come home, it's time."  He has quite a sense of humor, and we also share a deep love of wilderness and photography.  He told me some pretty amazing stories from a trip he made to the Serengeti.  He offered to show me his work sometime soon, and I am very much looking forward to that!  
  
As far as practice is going, I'm still working on catching the bind in supta kurmasana.  I am so close to getting it.  Sharath came up to help me last week.  He said, "you do" as he helped me bind my hands, and then when my hands kept popping loose as he crossed my feet over my head, he said, "Ahhhh, you need to eat more chapati."  No chapati, no strength.  The next day, he was helping someone else when I got to supta k.  My shoulder was hurting and I didn't even try to get all the way into the bind, but I went as far as I could.  He came over after I had started my backbending and asked, "Did you do?"  I smiled and shook my head no and told him my shoulder was hurting.  He said it will help if I can get my legs as far up over my shoulders as possible when entering kurmasana.  Interesting, right?  The tendency when I'm hurting is to back off and not go as deep, but that may be precisely the thing that is causing pain.  I said to Sharath, "Monday, I will do it, both [hands & feet]"  He said, "Yes, you will do... I will help."  And then he smiled and laughed in a way that inspired confidence, comfort, and a just a bit of fear, which are all useful and motivating for me right now. 

Yesterday I attended the Yoga Stops Traffick event at the Mysore palace.  The event was held to benefit Odandi Seva Trust which is an organization that helps rescue and rehabilitate victims of child trafficking.  They carry out brothel raids and provide sanctuary and a chance to rebuild their lives for the children they rescue.  The annual global event is held to bring awareness and raise funds for the cause.  There were a lot of kids participating along with many from the yoga community, there were even quite a few Tibetan monks who came to watch as well as many locals and passersby who stopped to see what it was all about.  After twenty seven sun salutations, coconuts and holi colors to celebrate!

On my rest days, I've been getting body work from a couple of different Ayurvedic massage therapists/healers.  I've found one in particular that I really like.  Aside from helping open up my shoulders and hips - things were popping left and right, and he always made this 'ahhhhh' noise like he could feel the release in his body - he told me I have fear in my belly.  He said, "Do you feel this, these knots?  That is fear.  Mmmm, yes, here.  See?  It gets in your way, restricts you.  Shine the light there.  Let it go.  Let the light shine in there.  There is darkness so many places in this world, but here, the light must shine."  After the session, we sat around and talked for a bit.  He said, "There is brightness within you.  Listen, listen.  Your body belongs to this earth, your soul belongs to god.  Listen to them.  Listen to them like you listen to your best friend.  Listen like you listen to your teacher, to your guru.  See?  You listen, and then it will come.  The brightness within you, let it shine through, and listen to what is says.  Let it guide you..."  Beautiful.  I am looking forward to my next session with him...
   
Aside from practice, study, healing, and socializing, I have been wandering around photographing things for my next series of fine art pieces.  India is amazing, a feast for all the senses.  The oils and incense and silks, the grime and rot and non stop horn honking, the laughter and despair and devotion, the smell of jasmine and spices and burning trash, the coconuts and kumkum and wandering cows, the beggars and holymen and housewives, the chanting and yelling and the hundreds of unheard whispered prayers... I love it here!  The joy and sorrow are interwoven so seamlessly, as it should be.  Everywhere I look is heartbreaking beauty.  I am so inspired by it all, it feels like such a gift.  I find myself filled to the brim with gratitude.  My heart breaks opens in awe of it all.  Everything about it is just so beautiful, even the sadness is full of beauty... The light will break your heart, if you're lucky now...

ॐ स॒ह ना॑ववतु । स॒ह नौ॑ भुनक्तु ।

स॒ह वी॒र्यं॑ करवावहै ।

ते॒ज॒स्वि ना॒वधी॑तमस्तु॒ मा वि॑द्विषा॒वहै॑ ॥

ॐ शान्ति॒ः शान्ति॒ः शान्ति॑ः ॥

ॐ असतो मा सद्गमय ।
तमसो मा ज्योतिर्गमय ।
मृत्योर्माऽमृतं गमय ।
ॐ शान्ति: शान्ति: शान्ति: ॥

A sleeping turtle in the land of yogis...

First few days in India felt like a whole week.  With a nearly thirty hour trek to get to Mysore, I saw two sunsets and two sunrises in twenty eight hours.  Hours feel like days as I am sinking into the rhythm of things here in Gokulam.

First day of practice.  My start time is 9am, which is technically 845am shala time, and so I arrived at the shala a quarter after 8am since I have heard it's good to be early.  Sharath looked at me and said I was "too early, you come ten minutes before your time, that is all."  Ok, no problem!  I was half expecting my first practice here to be more of a struggle than it was, since I am jetlagged and a little off kilter, but it was actually pretty damn good.  It is hot and humid in that room, good for the sweat and the breath.  Plus the energetic buzz in that room is off the charts.  Made it to supta kurmasana and am still half an inch away from the bind there.  On a good day and with help, I can touch my fingers.  I can cross my feet over my head, no problem.  Sharath stopped me there.  Also, "no backbends until you do full primary."  No problem!  There is work to be done with the asanas I have.  It feels magical and blessed to be practicing at the shala. 

Second day of practice.  Led primary, 6am start time.  Walked to the shala around 5am in the cool pre-dawn air and waited outside on the steps with other folks who arrived early to get a spot.  Even so, I wound up in the ladies changing room with a dozen others who weren't pushy or early enough to get a spot in the main room.  I didn't mind being in there, actually, as we started practice, I became increasingly relieved I wasn't in the main room.  My practice felt heavy, sluggish, sore.  Jetlag and a creaky neck and shoulder caught up with me.  Today is rest day, hoping a deep tissue massage later this morning will set me straight. 

I have been contemplating the lessons supta kurmasana has for me.  Every asana creates a doorway to the inner work.  What is the spiritual lesson for me in this pose of the sleeping turtle?  It is one of the gateway postures of the primary series and opens up an entire universe of behind-the-head postures.  It is a counterpose to urdhva dhanurasana, requiring a strong core and lengthening of the spine necessary for dynamic backbending.  Supta kurmasana also seems to me to be a very receptive and quiet posture.  Meditative.  Every time I get myself into it as deep as I can go, it feels very cozy and contemplative and somehow emotionally restorative.  Safe, even.  I always feel compelled to stay longer than five breaths.

One of the primary physical benefits of the posture is that it increases blood flow to the heart and lungs.  I find this especially interesting when considering supta kurmasana as a counterpose to backbending.  Backbends open the heart and, for me, have been purging old sadnesses which Chinese medicine says reside in the lungs... Coincidence that this is where my work is right now, highlighted and underscored and asterisked, a door I must figure out how to unlock before I can walk through?  I think probably not. 

Out of curiosity and a hope to be inspired by the symbolism, I looked into the mythological underpinnings of the asana, and of turtles in general.  I'm fascinated at what I found.  In general cross cultural symbolism, the turtle shell is a symbol of heaven and the square underside, a symbol of earth.  Turtle represents a union of heaven and earth and a temporary dwelling place of souls making their way to nirvana.  Turtle is also a shore creature, a gate keeper between land and water.  Turtle is easy going, patient, wise, steadfast, and tranquil.

In Hindu mythology, there are various accounts of world-tortoises, that is turtles who hold up the world on their back.  One of them, Akūpāra, meaning unbounded, is a turtle who carries an elephant that carries the world on its back.  The elephant is the masculine; the turtle, feminine.  Another tortoise, Kurmaraja, is the second avatar of Vishnu.  In an epic battle between the gods and the devils, the gods were losing strength.  Vishnu suggested they drink the nectar of immortality to regain what was lost, but it had been hidden in the milky ocean of the universe.  They began churning the ocean to recover the nectar, but the mountains began to sink.  Vishnu assumed the form of Kurma to bear the weight of the world in order to recover the nectar.  As the churning continued, halāhala (poison) was thrown out and threatened the existence of both the gods and the demons.  Shiva drank the poison to save the gods.  The nectar of immortality was recovered, and the gods regained their strength.

As the Hindu proverb goes, you have to digest halāhala (poison) before you get amrita (immortality).
And somewhere, Ganesha is looking over, laughing...