“Other” yoga

Tags

acceptance, Bikram yoga, mindfulness, vinyassa, yoga

At first it felt a little like cheating.

Are you going to Bikram?” They’d ask.

“Umm. No. Other Yoga.” I’d respond, nervously picking at the edge my yoga mat.

It started as a joke. There was “Our Yoga” (Bikram) and then there was “Other Yoga.” That was the yoga that was in other places – the yoga that other people did.

We weren’t disparaging it. We just weren’t into it. It just wasn’t our thing.

But then things changed.

When the studio where I practice moved locations, they started offering Other Yoga (AKA hot Vinyassa) as well as Bikram. Wanting to be supportive of the new endeavor, I went.

And it’s fabulous.

We do Downdog and Child’s pose and Warriors with different numbers. There is music and flow and something I totally can’t do called a bind.

What I love most about this Other Yoga is it’s essential Otherness. It’s just different. I have now been doing Bikram for almost 5 years. It is my heart. It is my home. But this Other Yoga has it’s place, too. There is room in my heart for both.

I now practice Other Yoga once a week, and I’ve been thrilled to realize that it strengthens my Bikram practice. My arms and shoulders are getting more defined. My balance is improving. And because Vinyassa integrates different postures in a different order, it keeps me on my toes. My mind can’t wander, because it’s not like I know we are going from Half-tortoise to Camel to Rabbit. Other Yoga sharpens that muscle of attention, so that when I am back in the Bikram room, I am more focused.

Best of all, Other Yoga has brought me back to the roots of this tradition – I had to return to my beginner’s mind. As I walked into the room, I didn’t even know which direction my mat should face. I struggled to keep up through a basic sun salutation. And with each new posture, each time I fell over trying to attempt it – I learned something new.

I invigorated my capacity for patience and compassion.

It’s so easy to get dogmatic about a specific branch of yoga. Once you’ve found the thing that changes your world and opens your mind, sometimes we narrow our focus too sharply. In doing that, we might close our hearts to something that might help us in a new way as we move along our path. Something that could bring a different glimpse of enlightenment.

Bikram remains my home and my happy place.

But Other Yoga is a pretty nice fling on the side.

————–

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Travel yoga and humidity humility

Tags

acceptance, Bikram yoga, Bikram yoga Brickell, community, gratitude, hot yoga, Miami, travel yoga, yoga with friends

Bikram Yoga Brickell in Miami

Recently, Husband had a work trip in Florida. He asked me if I wanted to go with him to Fort Myers and it was February and I’m not stupid so I said yes.

While he did work stuff, I took a little road trip to Miami to see a dear friend of mine who now lives there. She is a Bikramite but had not practiced in a while, since she was expecting her cutie-pie son. He was 9-weeks old and Mama needed the hot room. I was honored to be able to go with her to her first class back.

Understandably, she was nervous about returning to yoga. She wondered if anyone would remember her (they did) and if she would spend the whole class crying on the floor (she didn’t). But I was nervous, too. I always get nervous before travel yoga. I was anxious about what the room/teacher/students/temperature would be like.

This is the paragraph where I explain what all the problems were. Like, it was vacation yoga and I had been eating vacation food (fried artichoke and goat cheese po’boy, anyone?) and I’m not used to practicing that late in the evening (we were doing our first sit up around the time that I usually go to bed) and I had cramps and it’s really humid in Florida and …yeah.

I can come up with a lot of reasons why it wasn’t totally my fault that the woman who was still recovering from a c-section was pretty much kicking my ass.

But I realized during the second set of bow pose I had to take my own advice and sit down before I passed out.

Doing yoga in Miami is a little different than in Virginia. It was just a little…showier. There were modified breasts and rippling abs. Even in February there were a lot of tans. So, I had to dig extra deep into my pasty white soul to feel good about collapsing on my mat while everyone else locked out their knees.

I looked in the mirror, attempting to sit stoically. That annoying little part of me that wanted my friend/the teacher/Miss Boob Job to think I was a great yogi: that’s all just ego. That’s not helpful to me or anyone. This is the practice. But still, it flared up and tested me.

So, looked at that reflection of myself – an exhausted, wrung-out yogi on the floor – and tried to be kind. I tried to be present and breathe. Eventually, I got off the floor and back to the postures.

And when class was over I was so proud of my brave friend. As we walked to Publix and bought Coconut waters and cut up watermelon, she said she had been struck by the teacher’s comment that the mirror was “for alignment, not for judgement” and how she was grateful for the freedom to remove self-criticism completely.

I nodded, and it occurred to me for the first time that it’s not just alignment of your hips, it’s about alignment with the truth. Alignment with the moment. Alignment with your authentic self. Alignment with what is possible, and not possible, that day.

And then my friend got teary-eyed and said that even though class was hard, it was the first time in a long while that she had just taken a deep breath.

And she reminded me what this whole thing is about.

Thanks, L.

————————————–

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Hippos on the floor

Tags

Bikram yoga, gratitude, judgement, life choices, mindfulness, spirituality

After a yoga class the other day, a woman went up to our teacher and said,

“I was kind of surprised that you referred to us as hippos. It seemed mean and unlike you.”

Our teacher was horrified. “What? When??”

In floor bow, you said “arms up, legs up, everything up. Only hippos are still on the floor.”

Our teacher smiled and reassured her that she had said “only hip bones are still on the floor. Not hippos.”

And everyone laughed because it was a cute misunderstanding and we went on our way.

But something startling occurred to me. How ready are we to hear something terrible about ourselves? How quick are we to assume the worst and only hear the negative?

I am guilty of this. Give me 100 complements and I’ll only remember the one thing that was not so glowing. That’s the one that will wake me up in the night and leave me cringing and sweating at 2AM.

This is something that I am trying to change. It’s easy to go out of my way to see the best aspects of other people, but when it comes to myself, I tend to be deaf to any praise that might be aimed at me. I’m much more likely to assume someone just called me a hippo.

I love the Three Jewels and it’s part of my daily meditation and gratitude prayers. I especially love this part:

I take refuge in the dharma, the spiritual teachings. I commit myself to the truth as it is.

Because dharma can mean the words of the Buddha and it can also mean the absolutely clear nature of reality. We can make up all kinds of drama to go along with life, we can imagine that he gave me a nasty look or she called me the third largest land mammal on the planet. We can put a negative spin on experiences and get all worked up about them – or we can remove that lens and see the truth as it is.

Acknowledge, accept and then let it go.

It’s a choice.

And when I’m being mindful, I chose that joyful surrender to the truth. It’s way better than being called a hippo.

————————————–

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Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end

Tags

acceptance, Bikram yoga, community, gratitude

My yoga studio is moving to a new location.

It’s just a few blocks from the current place, but many of us students seem to be dealing with this like stereotypical Bikram yogis. The change is freaking us out. We love our same 26 postures and setting up in the same spot in the hot room. Although we are learning flexibility, when it comes to changing up our studio space, we are getting slightly bent out of shape.

We are also excited for a new adventure. An adventure with nicer showers.

But first, we must say goodbye to our old place, and for some of us, that is proving difficult.

The old place is where I wandered in one day, not knowing a thing about Bikram yoga. It’s a place that I came to rely on to fix my aching body and screw-loose brain. It’s where I made wonderful friends and did poses I never thought were possible for my clumsy, 30-something body. It’s where I went on my birthday, on the anniversary of the day I broke my back, on the day that my dog passed away. I went and cried and healed and then finally, I laughed.

It is sweaty, hallowed ground.

So, I’m having a hard time letting go (admits the yogi-in-progress).

Of course the new space will be wonderful. It will become the place where new things happen. There will be new experiences in the hot room and deepening friendships on the benches after class. But at first, I will walk into the studio like a person entering a random party, looking for anything familiar and wondering where the bathroom is. We will be strangers, that place and I.

Our brilliant studio owner, Lizzie, put a vase on the front desk at the current studio. The sign says if there is something – some energy, some feeling – that we want to come with us to the new studio, we should write it on a piece of paper and put it in the vase. This vessel will travel with us, with all the good wishes inside, to the new studio where it will not be opened.

I tried to figure out what to say to this vase. How do I express all of my hopes for this next phase of my practice and my life? How do I capture all that gratitude on a Sticky Note?

I was having a hard time putting it into words (admits the writer-in-progress).

So, I wrote:

Peace, love and acceptance – for myself and everyone else. Thank you for everything.

As I wrote it, a tear slipped from my eye, wrinkling the paper and smudging the ink. My message is so incomplete…but in a way, anything would be. So, I accepted the imperfectness of my words and placed the note in the vase.

I’ll be there for the last class at the current studio. I’ll be there for the first class at the new studio. I’ll figure out where I like to leave my shoes and where the hot spots are. I’ll open my heart and introduce myself to this next part of the path.

Hello.

(*Yes. I totally quoted Semisonic in the title of this post.)

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My life without yoga

Tags

Bikram yoga, gratitude, health, meditation, Pure Barre, relationships

A little while ago, I bought a Living Social deal for Pure Barre. I’ve gone 7 times now and like it. I just don’t love it. I like feeling a little like a ballerina (since I am so far from one) and I like the fact that it works some muscles that yoga doesn’t get to. I know this for a fact, because after my first class I was limping around for 2 days.

But, for me at least, it’s no yoga.

I get the physical burn, but I don’t get the mental cleanse that I get from the hot room. Maybe some people do get that from Barre, but I never felt it. This was a good reminder that for me – yoga really is special.

It makes me think back to my pre-yoga existence.

In the summer of 2009, I wandered into a Bikram yoga studio with no idea what to expect. I’d done yoga before, but I’d never had a serious practice. It was mostly just a couple of Rodney Yee tapes (yes, actual VHS tapes) that I’d dust off once in a while.

I’d been a meditator for a couple of years, so it seemed to make sense that I would try out yoga. A friend had heard great things about our local Bikram studio and she thought I might like it.

I will forever be indebted to Rachel for this suggestion.

I had just come home from a month of studying at Oxford and it wasn’t all I expected it to be. I felt mildly depressed and mildly fat. I don’t mean to jump on the bandwagon and bash the Brits for their food, but let’s just say the vegetarian-on-a-budget experience was not great.

I needed to get my life back on track. I figured yoga couldn’t hurt.

Now, thinking about life without yoga is just crazy. If I didn’t do yoga, my life would be totally different.

~ I wouldn’t have the support of such a wonderful yogi community.

~ I wouldn’t eat such healthy foods.

~ I wouldn’t have such deep and healing meditations.

~ I would not sleep as well.

~ I would not be as strong, mentally, physical, spiritually.

 ~ I would still have panic attacks.

 ~ I would not have such a strong connection with my husband.

 ~ I would be less comfortable with my body.

~ I would be shorter. (Seriously, I grew an inch.)

~ I would not have had the experience of doing yoga in a foreign country.

~ I would struggle more with depression.

~ I would have continuing back problems from my injury.

So, yeah, some days it’s hard to get myself to the studio. Some days it feels extra hot and humid and the yoga truck runs me over. Some days I feel stiff and my backbend is not as pretty as I want it to be. Some days I just want to sit on the couch and watch re-runs of Top Chef.

But when I look at it all cumulatively, the only logical thing to do is to go put on those tiny shorts.

Namaste.

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Yoga retreat recap: Temazcal sweat lodge

Tags

acceptance, Bikram yoga, gratitude, meditation, Surrender, sweat lodge, Tamascal

Temazcal sweat lodge in Tulum, Mexico

“I’m not going to do the sweat lodge.” I said.

“No? Why not?”

“I don’t like the heat and I won’t be able to leave whenever I want to and I don’t want to be in there with all those sweaty people.”

As the words left my mouth, I knew they sounded familiar. They were all excuses that someone had given me for not attending a Bikram yoga class. I only needed to say “I’m not flexible enough” and I would have covered everything.

Well, now I had to do the sweat lodge.

I was at this yoga retreat in Mexico and this was part of the experience, right? Daily yoga, vegan food and transformative spiritual experiences. I had to do it.

Just after sundown, about 18 of us gathered in a circle and were smudged in sage smoke — something that felt both spiritually significant and like it might act as a helpful anti-mosquito aid.

The Temazcal is an ancient Mayan tradition and the hut is representative of the womb. The purpose of this whole thing was to emerge reborn. We all crammed into the dome and sat, with our legs pulled up close, our bodies pressed up against the person next to us. There was no room to stand or move around. You just had to be there and get comfortable with the uncomfortable.

Then, the rocks came in. They had been sitting in the blazing fire-pit outside and were glowing red. We invited them in by saying “Welcome, Grandmother” in Spanish as they were shoveled into a pit in the middle of the Temazcal. Then, water infused with herbs was pored over the rocks. The steam rose and filled the Temazcal like a sauna.

It was hot. Really hot. Hotter than a Bikram Yoga hot room. At this point you kind of wanted to yell at the rocks – “get the hell out, Grandma” – but that would have been disrespectful.

Then the chanting began. And the singing. And I think some people had instruments but I couldn’t really see them and didn’t have enough wits about me to even shake a tambourine. The light-headedness took over, but at least the people on either side of me were propping me up so I couldn’t fall face-first into the rocks.

The total Temazcal lasted about two hours but it was separated into four parts or “doors.” After each door we had the chance to leave if we wanted to; I left after the second door, sat out the third door in the cool(er) night air, where I laid in savasana and some sort of tamascal assistant offered me water and played drums over me. After my break, I decided I wanted more of this experience, what ever it was. I went back in for the last door.

We sang about showing appreciation for ancestors and all that had come before us. We sang about acceptance of ourselves and letting go of anything from the past that didn’t serve us. We sang about our gratitude for the whole world and something about intergalactic eagles that I really didn’t understand but I was totally digging.

I did feel that when I crawled out, sweaty and dirty and delirious, I was reborn. The whole experience for me was about surrender. It was so similar to my early experiences with Bikram yoga. I was so apprehensive about the whole thing, but the process gave me the chance to let go – of my fear, my anxiety, my baggage. We all went and jumped in the ocean to complete the ritual and celebrate in the waves.

It absolutely felt cleansing and I really do feel changed by the experience, even weeks later. There was a shift. Something happened, but I can’t quite tell you how or why.

But, I definitely left something behind in that hot, smokey hut – something I just didn’t need anymore. It mixed with my sweat and my grateful tears and it melted into the sand and disappeared forever.

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Yoga retreat recap

Tags

Bikram yoga, community, Mexico, Travel, Tulum, yoga retreat

The idea of recapping my recent yoga retreat in Tulum, Mexico is daunting. How do I even begin to capture it?

There was yoga everyday and beautiful whole foods (mostly vegan) and unbelievably pristine beaches where you could plop yourself down on the sand and meditate on the vastness of the universe.

There were also oceanside hammocks where you could spend the afternoon in blissful semi-consciousness while rarely clothed, joyful people frolicked in the blue-green waves. We played with Synergy and swam in caves and visited the Mayan ruins.

We also practiced Bikram yoga every morning. We sucked in our bellies and locked our knees and did our 80/20 breathing. Francisco and Esak (lovingly) picked on us and challenged us and cheered us on.

The palapa where we practiced yoga every day

We did yoga in a palapa, outside, so the temperature was much chillier than us Bikram yogis are used to. Without the heat and without the mirrors, my familiar 26+2 yoga practice was transformed into something very different. It forced even more presence and acceptance. Backbends were not as deep, but grips were stronger. The heat didn’t exhaust me, but it also didn’t allow for the nice, sweaty sliding of legs in eagle pose. Without being able to see my alignment in the mirror, I just had to feel it, I had to tune into my body more and connect on a deeper level.

It wasn’t better or worse than a regular practice. It just was.

But the most significant part of the retreat for me, was the thing that I find most significant about Bikram yoga in general – the sense of community.

I’m really shy. I’m incredibly introverted and somewhat socially awkward, though I’m getting a little better. I was nervous about a “group vacation” with group meals and group excursions and just so damn much togetherness.

But it was such joy to meet this group of yogis. What fun it was to sit around at dinner and geek out on the nuances of spinal alignment and quad strength. How wonderful to share our passion and learn about studios in other parts of the world. What a great feeling to come home and have 20 new yogi friends.

Big pile of yogis

We were students, teachers and studio owners. Some of us had been practicing for decades, others had discovered the practice just six months ago. But we were all bonded by this love of yoga. We shared stories of how the hot room had healed our broken backs and broken hearts. It was a pretty special thing.

I think I’m still processing this retreat, so expect more stories to come. I HAVE to tell you guys about the sweat lodge…

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Back bending in the Big Apple

Tags

Bikram yoga, Bikram Yoga NYC, Manhattan

I recently hopped a train to New York. There was a writing conference in Manhattan and it seemed to be a good opportunity for me to be brave and embrace this writer thing.

I sound very calm and collected about the whole experience now, mostly because it was wonderful. (In fact, I ended up signing with a literary agent I met at the conference, so score one for being brave!) But before I went, I was a hot mess. This whole idea of embracing your authenticity is nice and all, but it can be really damn terrifying.

Many, many friends listened to me freak out about how nervous I was about going to this conference –  where I would know no one, needed to make the dreaded “small talk” and was scheduled to spend a horrific 90 minutes in a “Pitch Slam” which is like speed dating where you pitch your book idea to agents.

Essentially, it triggered every anxiety I’ve ever had.

But somehow I made it through. The response to my book was very positive and I actually had fun and learned something.

And how did I reward myself for surviving something called a Pitch Slam?? 90 minutes in the NYC Bikram Torture Chamber, of course!

Oh, how I love travel yoga. I love seeing the difference in studios, yet having the stability of the same 26+2 postures. And this particular studio was super handy because I could just run next door after class for all of my XXX video needs.

It’s always interesting to see the little individualities of a studio. Do you turn sideways on your mat for Standing Separate Leg Stretching or not? What is the floor made of? Which side of the room is the hot side??

But regardless of how different a studio might seem, there is something other than the postures that I can always depend on while doing travel yoga.

Peace.

It’s always there, whether I’m back bending in Rome, Prague or Midtown Manhattan. I walk out with that same deep contentment, that same feeling of having my soul wrung out.

And let me tell you, after the suffering that I imposed upon myself prior to the trip, there was a lot of crap to wring out.

So, thanks again yoga, for reminding me of what I am really capable of.

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Lost and found: dealing with life’s disappointments

Tags

acceptance, Bikram yoga, disappointment, gratitude

It was just one of those things that happen.

You know the sort of thing. The specifics of it are unimportant because the feeling is universally understood. Feeling disappointed. Feeling rejected. Being a little lost.

It’s not the end of the world. It’s just one of those things that covers you in a cloud of sadness. It makes you feel tired and wonder why it has to be this complicated.

I wore my big sunglasses to yoga. I wondered if I could get away with wearing them in the hot room, so that no one could see that I had been crying in the car on my way to the studio.

I don’t totally understand why yoga works. Why sweating and putting my forehead to my knee reminds me of my own self worth. I don’t know why doing a back bend makes me a kinder person. I don’t know why pranayama breathing re-introduces me to myself. I don’t know why a spine twist straightens out my priorities.

But it does. Every time.

There are thousands of years of documentation of this phenomenon, complicated scriptures and impressive-sounding Sanskrit words like svadhyaya. I’ve read Patanjali…and I guess I sort of get it, in theory. But here’s the great thing, you don’t have to completely understand it for it to work. It works anyway.

It doesn’t mean that the world doesn’t beat me up anymore. It still does. I still get disheartened and whiney. I’m just able to get into the hot room and remember what it’s really all about. I bounce back much faster than I used to.

And then I get down on my knees and press my forehead to the ground and profess my undying gratitude for yoga. Because yoga wakes me up to the joyous realities of my life and encourages me to let go of everything else.

And then I promise to do it again tomorrow. Whatever it is.

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Scuba diving lessons for yoga

Tags

Bikram yoga, Breathing, mindfulness, scuba diving

I was young when I learned how to Scuba dive. The minimum age for diving was 13, but I somehow convinced my dad to lie to the dive master, since I was only 11.

Dad and I took the class together. I read the books and studied the colorful charts that the teacher pointed to in the dive shop. I learned about buoyancy compensators and decompression sickness. I learned the hand-signals. I was good to go.

We did our test dive in the pool at the YMCA. The first moment of being able to breathe underwater was mind-blowing, a whole new world opened up for me. Each inhale was a revelation. I was mesmerized by the bubbles that danced up to the surface when I exhaled. It was not something they could have explained in the textbook. My breath became an absolute wonder.

I’ve always had ear problems and as the dive master swam with me down to the deep end of the pool, my ears started to hurt from the pressure. He signaled for me to try to clear them, but it didn’t work. I panicked, forgot I could breathe underwater and tried to catapult myself up to the surface.

The dive master grabbed my arm.

He shook his head – No

He put his palm up in front of my face – Stop

He pointed to the regulator in my mouth, which was providing me oxygen – Breathe. 

He made me just stay there for a moment. He locked eyes with me as my panic dissipated and I started to take smooth, long breaths. He signaled that I should try popping my ears again. This time it worked.

I was in the Bkram yoga hot room the other day and I was convinced there was just no air. I was dizzy, my heart was pounding and I wanted to quit and bolt up to the surface. Suddenly, that dive master from 20 years ago popped into my head, his bug-eyed mask was right in front of me again.

No.

Stop.

Breathe. 

All I needed was right there, I just forgotten that it was accessible. I forgot what a wonder my breath was and that I could just be present with it and watch the bubbles dance. I could just chose to be still.

I had forgotten what I was capable of.

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