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New toy: iPod shuffle. Holds enough Coldplay tunes to get me through practice, and clips on unobtrusively. (Note to self: Coldplay obsession may be slightly unhealthy.)

Yesterday parents were moved to a hotel closer to their new home. Got ‘em a rental car. Now they can spend two days getting everything set up as they wait for their furniture to arrive from Florida. I will not feel guilty for being so happy to have my house back. I will not feel guilty.

Actually don’t feel guilty at all. Generally speaking, I only feel guilty about not feeling guilty. Always been that way. I made a very poor Catholic.

Stayed up late last night because the old TV broke, so The Cop needed a new one. On the double. It’s March madness.

We rearranged all the furniture. A chance for me to find the really well-hidden dust bunnies. So I was tired this morning, since we went to bed late. Scary late. Like 10 PM

Home practice day. Stood on the mat and thought: “Maybe just do standing and second series poses through supta vajrasana.” My psoas muscles were still screaming, my shoulders were sore, blah, blah, blah. “Really,” I asked myself, “What should you do?” All of primary and then second through supta vajrasana.

So I did. And feel much better now.

Woke with a remarkable, soft buzzing feeling in my shoulders this morning. Very gentle, but very high frequency. Usually when I feel buzzed, it has a frantic kind of quality, but this was quite different.

Also soreness in the shoulders, and I don’t even want to talk about my psoas (no time to look up the plural — but I mean both of ‘em). Ow, ow, and double ow. I need to figure out how to lay off the psoas involvement in all the backbends.

I uncovered one of those hidden beliefs that I know I harbor but cannot see (duh!) because they’re hidden:

I believe that messing around with my lower back (brahma granthi) is physically dangerous, but psychically safe. Conversely, I believe that messing around with my shoulders/chest (vishnu granthi) is physically safe, but psychically dangerous.

Weird, huh? Beliefs are so interesting. I always wonder where they come from, and why they’re sometimes secret from my self.

Much fun at the second series workshop this morning. Some ‘splainin’, then some doing. Just the way I like it. Volleyball Guy is not a metaphor kind of guy. He likes to talk a bit about the pose, or sequence of a few poses, then have us go for it. Includes adjustment info, too, so we can help each other at Mysore practice.

So we started off with the beginning of second, which is at least familiar to me. I was kind of psyched to get to laghuvajrasana, kapotasana and supta vajrasana — more psyched than terrified (which I was when Volleyball Guy told me to do ‘em on Friday) so that’s a good sign.

Most notable achievement (yeah, I know “achievement” is the wrong word), was touching my toes in kapotasana. On the right side. Left hand about an inch away, according to The British Director. Left shoulder was the rotator cuff tear. Years ago, but still enough to make me a little stiffer on that side.

I was thrilled with the toe touching (with an assist, of course!) because I really had kind of imagined it’d be a couple of years before my fingers ever even brushed my toes. That said, the assist was pretty cranking (in other words, it won’t necessarily be easy to reproduce). “Are you okay?” The British Director asked as she cranked my arms. “Yes,” I said, even as my internal monolog said, “No!” It’s funny when you get that extra oomph of curiosity and determination. Always a dangerous line, of course, seeing as it could lead to injury. But I wanted to see what it felt like.

Other poses were fun, but the real entertainment was with the headstands. We did three of the seven. I love the hand transition, back to the “Headstand One” hands, then the lowering of the legs to half headstand, followed by the little “pop” into chaturanga. Just fun. Reminiscent of the kind of things we’d do for fun when we were kids.

Second part of second will be April 22. We’ll do all the poses we didn’t do today. I’m already looking forward to it.

Bit it in led practice today. Bit what, you ask? The floor. With my head.

Owie.

Actually, hitting your head at the bottom of a dropback is much less painful than you might think. The thought that seemed to happen simultaneously with the crash was “Wow, my head is strong.”

Muscle Man was taking half of us through dropbacks and Volleyball Guy was workshopping handstands with the other half of the class. I felt bad for Muscle Man — he looked pretty upset after I crashed. I was fine, though, and explained that I’d been dreading the (I suspect) inevitable learning-dropbacks head biff. So now I’m past the dread part. And it wasn’t all so awful. He had me do three more after the crash. The “get back on the horse” rationale. Fair enough. I was kind of shaky, but I understood I had to do it.

I wonder if there is a point with dropbacks when you realize you just have to go for it — and probably take a few dings along the way — and that that’s just the way it has to be? Or perhaps that is a reckless idea? I dunno. If anyone has any experience with this, let me know.

Before I go to sleep, I need to get into that half-awake state and have a chat with myself about how everything’s okay and the trauma can be let go of.

Tomorrow is a second series workshop with Volleyball Guy. I’m looking forward to it. Monday’ll be my moon day. Looking forward to that, too!

Mysore this morning. No energy again. Actually, more specifically, my mind was busy (parents move to AZ today), and my shoulders and arms felt burnt out. So the whole dealio was sluggish.

And rather stiff. I was perplexed (Why is this happening?!), but couldn’t be too cranky about it, because truth be told, I’ve enjoyed months of happy, flexy practices. Knock wood.

I thought about how Returning Guy (who needs to be re-named “Mr Bikram”) told me recently that he avoids nightshades because they cause stiffness. All of a sudden, I find myself in down dog, blaming the tomato sauce I had last night for all my physical woes. Until I remembered, oh yeah, you’ve had months of comfy practices — suck it up and get on with it!

So I did. Not happily, but oh well. And at the end (yes, crim on a Friday) I did the second series poses through ustrasana. Ah, lovely! The second series backbends are starting to feel really good and more open.

At which point, Volleyball Guy says, “laghu vajrasana.” I turned around to look behind me. You talking to me? Uh, yeah. “Don’t stop at ustrasana, go ahead and do the next section.” Alrighty. I guess. (Holy God, what is the next section?!) Luckily, he intended to stand by and assist me through “the next section.” Which included laghu vajrasana, kapotasana, and supta vajrasana.

Uncle! Uncle! The low-energy practice must come to an end! He took mercy on me, finally, and let me do dropbacks with Sanskrit Scholar.

Interestingly, after the surprise “section,” I felt really cheery and relaxed. Backbends are a huge pain in the butt, but they sure do make you feel good.

You know. Afterwards.

This morning I had no energy for regular practice. This is a loaded issue for me. It’s much easier when I just follow the rules of Ashtanga. All practice, all the time

I did the backbending research sequence I made up for myself a few months ago. It really is working, though not because of any particular magic in my sequence. It’s working because any persistent backbending would affect anyone, even a stiff-backed gal like myself.

The whole time, though, I felt rather criminal. Argh. Save me from my fundamentalist nature. I either want to rebel entirely or follow the rules to the letter. Not such great mental flexibility. All I can do is chalk this up to another learning experience. I did a different kind of practice today. Does that mean I need to decide to never do that again, to always do it, etc., etc., etc.?

I worry about messing up my discipline, which is usually quite strong. I worry about my propensity for discipline, which might be a kind of self-inflicted fascism.

In the meantime, backbending felt very good. A lot of the things I do in the self-made sequence used to hurt like a motherf***er. This morning, nope, no pain. I even set up a milk crate and did some of the stuff Tim illustrated on his blog.

Actually, while we’re talking about it, take a look at the second picture down on Tim’s entry today. The arms overhead, hands grasping elbows? Okay, this is my fatal flaw arm position. I totally suck at it. See how Tim’s elbows are on the floor? Not mine. If I grab my elbows, my arms poke pretty straight up. I think it’s my triceps that are way too tight? And shoulders, of course. Anyone with suggestions on loosening the arms/shoulders to gain more flexibility for that sort of move? It’s crucial to kapotasana, I know. Which is a long ways off for me, but I might want to get a move on, arm/shoulder-wise, if I can find some useful remedial poses.

Okay, the other thing lately is lightness. As in, I’m light. There’s a place where weight and strength are in perfect alignment, and somehow my set point seems to be readjusting. From backbends, possibly? I lost some weight (not purposefully) and whereas I can usually just put on a couple pounds if I feel I am losing strength, in this case, it’s just not coming back on. It’s a little strange, because I am usually freakishly stable, weight-wise. All of a sudden, though, it seems like my set point has gone down a bit and I feel like I have a new body. Actually, now that I think about it, a more open-to-backbending body. Which is nice. But a less excess-energy body, too. I mean, to put this all in perspective, we’re only talking a few pounds. Still, though, it seems like something is different. Just can’t quite articulate what that is.

Someone wrote recently on ezBoard about how genius it is, that once you get to the very end of your practice, there are backbends. You can’t totally exhaust yourself, because you’re going to need a little oomph to get through the backbending. I experienced the wonder of the sequence today. At the end of practice, I was sweaty and pretty empty, and then I looked over and saw that Volleyball Guy had built a little backbending prop out of blocks and sandbags against the wall. A little slope to practice on.

My first thought was “I’m going to fall on my head.” (As an aside, in artistic circles, “first thought, best thought” is often the rule of thumb. When it comes to physical challenges, though, first thought can often involve panic and a hypervigilant self-preservation instinct that might actually steer you to be more conservative than necessary.) Anyhow, my second thought, borne of the relaxation (or, perhaps, exhaustion) of the preceding series, was, “Eh, who cares?” So I gave it a go and did three dropbacks on my own. Not to the floor, but it was a nice start.

Practice was with another person. As I was walking in, Sanskrit Scholar was greeting a new person who apparently had just finished Volleyball Guy’s Intro to Ashtanga series of classes. Sanskrit Scholar asked if I’d practice next to the new gal to remind her of the sequence.

It’s kind of nice to practice that way occasionally. As noted before, I am not a touchy-feely natural teacher. But if someone wants to watch and work along with me, that’s fine. It’s kind of nice to slow down and split my consciousness a bit, so I can be aware of what the other person is doing and if they’re okay with the pace, etc.

A ways into seated poses, she started skipping the vinyasas between sides. It suddenly struck me how intense the series is. I forget. I think of third series practitioners and am awed, and I think of primary and assume it’s easy street. But of course it’s not. We’re just used to it.

A few Freeman thoughts during practice: what I am most remembering from practice to practice is the business about relaxing my mouth (not to suggest my mouth is actually relaxed — I am, however, at various points, realizing how unrelaxed it is, which is a kind of improvement), keeping my T12 area wide and relaxed, and rotating my shoulders. Also exaggerating the traction effect of the feet pulling on the mat during upward dog.

In Janusirsasana A, Volleyball Guy came over and adjusted me a bit. I have a very deep Janu A, especially on the first side, and he said, “I’m happy someone learned something this weekend!”

“You mean, the wings of my kidneys are open?” I asked, my face smooshed against my shin.

He started laughing and said, “The eyes of your buttocks are rotated back.”

“I can see you! I can see you” I exclaimed. Everyone who’d been in Tucson laughed hysterically. The new gal looked bemused.

She’ll find out soon enough.

Today I slept in. On a weekday. On purpose. Until 6:30 AM.

Yesterday was Day 8 of practice, because of the weekend workshop and my not wanting to miss Monday Mysore (Mysore practice with Volleyball Guy is Monday, Wednesday and Friday). Usually I’m not so attached to Mysore, but I’m out of town at the end of the month, and then Volleyball Guy will be out of town for the first two weeks of April. I need to get my fill of Mysore practice so I’ll be eager for some home practices.

Anyhow, it rocked to sleep until 6:30. I was actually having dreams when I woke up. I also could have coffee. Yes, I’m back to the caffeine. Quitting is much harder than I would have anticipated. Still not drinking any before practice (because I really don’t want to barf during backbends), but I am back to having some after practice. Why? Because I can’t bear the headaches. I’ve tried cutting back, but still. There they are, the headaches. They want one full cup of coffee per day. Yesterday I had to break down at 3 PM and have a cup to finally get rid of the headache. So at this point, best I can do is move the addiction to follow practice instead of precede it.

Most notable sensation of the morning: after waking, having coffee, and getting ready for work, I was driving to the office and suddenly felt totally swept along in (and by) the morning. It felt pleasant and kind of manic, and I knew immediately that it was because I hadn’t had my chance to pull myself out of time and be still in my mind, which is what I do each morning at practice.

The yogi(ni)s I know always talk about meditating or wanting to meditate (aside from their Ashtanga practice) and more and more I believe that my practice is meditation. Wasn’t that Guruji’s point in inventing the whole system?

Someone asked for more info about the Freeman workshop, so here goes:

Shoulders: We spent a lot of time on alignment of the shoulders. In particular, during up dog. The tips: pull your upper body through between your arms, use your feet to drag and provide resistance, and make sure to keep some bend in your elbows. The pull of the feet will create a traction effect in the lumbar region, and as we all know, that means the coccyx will then attract the pubic bone, instead of repelling it. Okay, I’m saying that kind of snidely, because when RF says it, it sounds poetic and sensible, and when I paraphrase it, I sound like a nut.

Wings of the kidneys: Yes, he said it. Many times. This is just the sort of thing that makes The Cop howl with derision, but hey, it’s kind of a snazzy catchphrase, isn’t it? The “wings” are related to the T12 “floating ribs.” Actually, maybe they even just are the floating ribs. No matter. We were encouraged not to pinch the wings closed, ever. Well, I’m kind of assuming the “ever” part. Definitely no wing-pinching during up or down dog, or during the arm raising portions of the suryas. The more I think about it, the more I’m pretty sure you just don’t ever do it.

Silly as I’m being, it really is nice to keep that area of the back nice and open. Pretty much impossible to pinch your shoulders shut, too, when you’re stretching through the T12 area. This is quite helpful in downward dog.

Your mouth: Relax it. Bring awareness to the upper palate in relation to your breath, and to the relationship they have with the energy that moves up the spine and through the crown.

Note to self: It would be very useful if I could hire someone to say “your mouth” about every 30 seconds throughout my entire practice.

Cave of the sacrum: Great metaphor. I heard him say it a good while ago and totally loved it from the very first. It makes a perfect kinesthetic sense to me. It was mentioned more over the weekend, though in rather abstract terms. The dealio: be aware of the cave of the sacrum. I have no idea how to explain the physical ramifications of this concept, because every time I hear “cave of the sacrum,” my pose adjusts itself and I have no clear idea about how it really happens.

I believe at some point there was talk of a golden fish in the cave of the sacrum, and then things got all tantric. It’s funny how you get high from these sorts of events. I grabbed a ride back to Scottsdale from Volleyball Guy and Sanskrit Scholar. We stopped for something to drink and Sanskrit Scholar and I stumbled about through a highway mini-mart.

“Are you kind of spacey?” she asked me.
“I feel like we spent the day at the beach,” I said.
And it really was just like that.

Back from a weekend workshop in Tucson with Richard Freeman. Still processing the info (as we were ending, he said, “Don’t worry about remembering what you’ve learned. It will remember you.”) and quite honestly I have no idea whether I will process it all in discursive language — a nice opportunity to use some of that faith that we learn things even if we don’t workshop them in the mind.

Anyhow, the more obvious highlights:

Leg position in Marichyasanas A and C. He explained the bent leg as a “squat.” The leg was pulled back as far as possible, which meant the tibia was not perpendicular to the floor, but the knee was actually out past the toes. I was giddy with glee: I’d always thought that was cheating and that I had to resist the urge to pull my foot way back.

Urdhva dhanurasana set up: we started off on our backs, with legs and arms set up for urdhva dhanurasana. Now, on an exhale, pull with the hamstrings (not the quads) and slide up into a pre-urdhva d position (head on the floor, feet in tiptoes). On the next inhale, rise up into the full pose.

Navasana: a little curl in the coccyx, and keep the muscular action in the upper abs, while releasing the lower back muscles. This action cuts a lot of the psoas tension out of the pose.

Being a traveling yoga teacher is probably rather like being a touring rock star: no doubt you get sick of the repetition. I studied with Allen Ginsberg, and he once told me that it was kind of a drag, how people always wanted him to read “Howl,” and write more poems like it, etc.

I’m feeling a little burnt from practicing seven (and today, eight) days in a row. I’ll skip a day tomorrow. Today, though, I am looking forward to Mysore for a few reasons: I am really open after a bunch of days of practice, I am in a kind of delicate mind-space after doing some traveling (and it’s interesting to see what practice feels like when I’m not in usual everyday mind), and I want a practice in familiar surroundings to indicate to myself that I am back. All kind of weird attachments and detachments borne of travel, but there you have it. I haven’t transcended my attachment to place.