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I wish I had a video of what Waylon just did! After yoga practice, I let him out of his crate and we go into the back yard so he can pee.

Then I call him into the house so we can practice his “sit” and “down” and “paw” commands. Today we went out as usual, and I called him to come back in the house with me. He dawdled a bit, so I went in and got his training treats. As I was returning through the livingroom, he came galloping at top speed into the house, slid on the tile toward me on his butt, and landed directly in front of me in sit position, excitedly looking up for his treat. He reminded me of a quarter horse doing a slide stop.

We started the “stay” command today. I’m sure he’ll pick it up quickly. It’s funny watching him tip his head to the side as I teach him something new. “What, you don’t want sit or paw?” he seems to be thinking. “What more could you possibly want of me?”

***

This morning I did lots of Matthew Sweeney’s ustrasana dropbacks. Sigh. My chest and shoulders are so tight, it feels like I am trying to turn myself inside out. Goodness, I am involuted!

I noted that in a photo I have of the pose, he has his toes curled under (versus top of foot flat on the floor, like a regular ustrasana). This makes the dropback easier and harder. On the one hand, the toes provide resistance against the stretch of the hamstrings [Duh! Edit: I meant to say hip flexors...]; on the other, the toes give leverage for the return back up (easier).

My (I guess) obliques are feeling pretty sore. Or maybe it’s the transverse abdominis. Anyhow, my sides.

I love pictures. I can look at this and see no indication whatsoever of how much it hurt on the inside. There *is* some indication of how tight the hip flexors are, though!

This morning, my neighbor tried to kill himself. I saw cop cars when I went out to the garage, and as I was driving past his house, he was lying on the driveway, surrounded by cops who’d pulled him out of his garage and were waiting for the EMTs.

I don’t really know this man. He’s staying with his elderly mom, who lives two doors down from us. I only know him because he walks her dogs, and I often passed him on the street as I was walking Ty. He was always smoking a cigarette, and as we passed, he’d share a few words before his mom’s dogs would go berserk about Ty’s presence.

“Geez,” he said, turning to them disgustedly as they lunged toward Ty. “What’s with you?! This is such a NICE dog!”

I hadn’t seen much of him and his mom’s angry dogs, because Ty died, and then Waylon was too skittish for much walking.

Last week, though, Waylon and I were tooling around the neighborhood and we passed him. He was smoking and not paying attention. He looked up when his mom’s dogs went ballistic at the sight of Waylon.

“He’s a cute puppy,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said. After we passed him, I wondered if he didn’t recognize me, or didn’t register that last time he saw me I had a much larger puppy, and now I have a new, smaller one. He didn’t comment. I wondered if he figured I have two puppies, or if he was being polite not to say anything, or if he just didn’t really notice.

Now, obviously, I assume he was perhaps not paying too much attention to the world outside himself.

Who knows.

I’m sorry he was in that much pain, though, and I hope he’s okay.

I am strangely baffled about the fact that he could have been going about the business of killing himself as I practiced this morning, or as I practiced “sit” and “down” with Waylon in the kitchen. Or as his mom slept in their house. It seems like we should have some kind of telepathy with each other, to be able to hear these things.

And it worries me that we don’t, even though I know that it doesn’t make sense to imagine we would.

Vertigo’s been gone since Saturday morning. Woohoo! I am still overcome with how great it is to be able to move around in space. Practices Sunday, Monday and this morning have been gratitude-fests. I know it’s fleeting, this consciousness of how lucky I am to be able to move at all, so I’m trying to savor it.

In the meantime, work is crazy, I’ve been reading about zen masters being psychoanalyzed, homeopathic arthritis treatments for dogs, acupressure, and Kashmiri Shaivism (sorry, I’m at work and have 4 minutes before my next meeting — otherwise I’d give you a wiki link).

Still vertiginous. Gah! It’s awful. I am accustomed to having balance. Okay, all the whining everyone does about utthita hasta padangusthasana? Yeah, cut it out. Now. It’s a miracle that we can do such a thing, even badly. We should love every second of it — balancing on one leg and throwing open the heart and spine. Magical!

Yesterday was a moon day and today’s the weekly day off, so no practice for the past two days. On Thursday, though, I had an eye-opening practice: with my equilibrium so sketchy and my attention to it so focused, I couldn’t help but experience the practice from a gyroscopic perspective. As if my awareness was a kind of spiral shell, and the workings of balance a tour through that space.

We turn in intricate patterns. That’s my summation of our practice.

How those turnings dance away samskaras is anyone’s guess, but it is definitely a balance dance.

And a good bit of it works by repetition — during my practices this week, I would suddenly have the sensation that I was falling or spinning, but I knew it wasn’t true, because I knew where I was in the sequence and could understand that nothing was really happening, that there was no actual spinning or falling going on in my musculoskeletal system. The sense of motion was just an illusion of the off-kilter gyroscope in my head. A vritti created by my physical body, which rippled the citta. And this sets off a tamasic physical response (impulse to lie down and be inert) and a rajasic mental response (Sit still! Don’t move! This is scary! Maybe it will never go away!).

It’s all very fascinating, but I would like to be done with it.

***

I’m sniffing steroids and downing antihistamines and decongestants. The doctor says these may help. We’ll see. In the meantime, I am very wobbly for the first few hours of the day. Which means I will try a practice upon awakening tomorrow, and if that is too difficult, I’ll switch my practice time to the early evening until this resolves — the symptoms are least intense later in the day.

As always, I’ve thrown too many potential cure variables in the mix, so I’ll never know what, ultimately, fixes this. Steroid, decongestant, antihistamine, two different movement techniques for benign paroxysmal positional vertigo, sleeping with my head raised, cutting out dairy, fervent wishes, time.

Noticed dizziness in practice on Friday and Saturday. Day off on Sunday & felt just fine. Monday morning, I woke with intense vertigo. It feels like the spins that you get if you drink too much. Except you don’t pass out and wake up with a headache the next morning. You just keep spinning.

I had vertigo about 7 years ago. It came on out of the blue and kept me bedridden for 3 days. This most recent bout isn’t nearly as debilitating — by afternoon on Monday I could get out of bed and lurch around the house. Obviously, no practice.

On Tuesday, I was still lurching, but could do sitting poses — which I sorely needed after a day lying in bed or on the couch. I worked from home; there was no way I’d be able to maneuver around the office without looking drunk.

Yesterday, I felt much improved. Practice was fine, though I left out parsva dhanurasana and couldn’t manage much in the way of backbends. Got through a whole day at the office, though occasionally had to tip my head to the left to re-establish my equilibrium.

Apparently this is a pretty common symptom — last time, the doctor said it was likely due to a respiratory infection. Nothing to be done but wait it out.

And so I am waiting. Practice today was stronger than yesterday’s but still I can’t do parsva dhanurasana or any deep backbends.

It’s exactly opposite what I’d prefer. If vertigo would make me unable to do forward bends, I’d be secretly pleased — that way I’d be able to just focus on the thing I’m most eager to practice, and I’d have an excuse to dispense with the forward bending. But I guess this is a lesson in balance.

Happy Anniversary, Cop. You’re the best.

On Friday, I had a few episodes of vertigo during practice. Yuck. I hate that. It was back again today, especially on the first side of parsva dhanurasana. I knew there were some simple exercises to resolve vertigo, so after a dizzy (but good!) practice I did some research. I found this helpful info, gave Waylon a bone to amuse him for the 6 minutes it takes to do the Semont maneuver, and went for it.

The maneuver is very simple, but the subject has to be still for 3 minutes on one side, then 3 minutes on the other. Okay, here we go. I turn my head and lie over on the first side. Waylon almost immediately pushes his bone under the couch where he can’t reach it. Barking ensues. The Cop is sleeping, so I have to make him stop. I distract him by talking to him. He rushes over and happily bites my throat. Nice. I push him away. He comes back and sticks his head down my shirt, merrily snorting his bulldog snorts. I push him away again, trying not to move my head. He swings by the coffee table and puts his tongue in my tea. Too hot. He returns and bites my nose. Wanders off. My three minutes on side one are up so I go over to the other side. Waylon comes back and cuddles up to me with a big wet kiss. Then he bites my throat again. Then he runs off to the front hall closet to see if anyone left a shoe or two around. Nope. He gallops back to bite, in quick succession, the three things he’s not allowed to play with: the curtains, the armrest cover of the couch, and the couch pillow. I’m still down — my three minutes are almost over, but in the last seconds he makes a run for the earbuds of my iPhone — fascinating objects he can never quite get ahold of.

Ding! Time’s up. I had a huge rush of vertigo on side one, which I hope was caused by the calcium crystals moving out of my inner ear. I won’t know for sure until tomorrow morning, when I try moving myself in all different directions.

It is hilarious to note that as soon as the bell rang and I finished my 6 minutes of self-administered therapy, Waylon lay down on the floor with a toy and reverted to angelic puppyhood. Then he fell asleep. He’s snoring as I type this.

Waylon’s first long walk. He was in some kind of puppy fear funk for a while there — too nervous to walk far from the house, tentative about any noises or cars or people.

We took a couple of weeks to do some desensitization: trips to PetsMart, rides in the car, very short walks that barely went past the front yard.

The funk seems to be over now. He bounded out the front door this morning, and we were off. A nice loop down the street, around behind the houses, and onto a path that cuts into the desert for a ways. Then a brief walk along a busy street and back to our neighborhood. I’m guessing it’s about a mile, but will check with the pedometer next time.

This was also Waylon’s first walk on a choke chain. I know some people dislike choke chains, but I think they rock. Sure, some dogs just pull until they run out of oxygen and keel over (not really, but I guess that’s what people fear). What I find is that dogs quickly understand the choke chain — pull too far and it gets uncomfortable, allow a little slack and it feels like no collar at all. Both Ty and Waylon started off with little buckle collars — and I think that makes sense for really young puppies — but I swear dogs have a harder time figuring them out. There’s no increasing pressure with buckle collars, really. They’re either comfortable or not comfortable, depending on how the dog pulls. With the choke chain, the information is much more subtle, and the dog learns very quickly to read the tautness. Anyhow, I like choke chains and think they’re really good tools because they give the dog a lot more data than a buckle collar.

And now Waylon’s crashed out in his crate (the door’s wide open — he climbed into it of his own volition). There is something about dogs loving their crates that really makes me happy — I have no idea why. Waylon does love his crate, though — he likes to crash out in it, and he likes to jump in and out of it, throwing his toys against the inside of it and making a huge racket (the crate is metal and the floors are tile).

Anyhow, it was a great pleasure to take a walk with him. I like the calm repetition of leash training — just guiding him over and over to the correct place on my left side, not too far forward, not too far back. It’s remarkably soothing and gratifying when it all comes together and we just walk along in sync. As always, I am amazed and impressed with how quickly dogs learn and how earnest they are.

Now for a couple of pictures: Waylon trying to figure out how to get down off the couch, a skill he is reluctant to practice (he lays his head on the couch and longingly looks in my direction when he wants to come up, and fidgets and whines when he wants to get down). And one of his reaction when I made some high-pitched squeaky noises.

12:45. Crumbs from the Boca on Ezekiel under my left elbow and 15 minutes to spare before my next meeting.

Long day. Up at 3:30 AM, accompanied by Waylon and Maxine, who welcome a super-early breakfast. Then Maxine back into the bedroom to snooze alongside The Cop, and Waylon into his crate with a chew toy for yoga time. He has accepted the daily morning practice & even gets into his crate by himself these days.

When I have more time, expect a post on how Waylon is the poster boy for kapha. It’s hilarious and also explains my effortless soulmate relationship with Tyler. It never occured to me until Waylon was here for comparison, but Ty was a total vata. We were a matched set.

Still, the lumpish sweet kapha-ness of Waylon is extraordinary. It makes you want to scream “squee!” and squish him in your arms.

Okay, so super-early practice so I could finish up and take a 6 AM con call. Then a quick turnaround for an 8 AM meeting in the office. Followed by a 9. And a 10. And an 11. And 11:30. The boca at 12:30. Yum.

For the past two days, practice has been a delight for reasons I cannot quite fathom. Better diet? More fat? Three extra pounds on me? Less sleep? Easter chocolate rationed out so I can have a portion each night before bed? Lumpy kapha love of Waylon? Who knows. All I can say for sure is that I was in one of those phases where practice kind of hurt — nothing acute, but just a tendency toward achiness and sore spots and creaks, and now –suddenly– it’s all a pleasure, both physically and mentally. A blessing, wherever it comes from.

Work is crazy and busy and stressful, and in the current climate, I cannot get sign off for working on the Ph.D., which is fine. This morning I thought about my occasional impulse to do a yoga teacher training. Perhaps that will be a new project…

I’m back to the regular practice since Sunday. This morning was one of those practices where I felt kind of meh – not bad, not good. It could easily have turned into one of those practices where I just carry on — easy enough to grind out a practice. After all, I can do it automatically… 2… 3… 4… 5… next pose… 1… 2… 3… You know the drill.

But for some reason, I flashed on Susananda’s write up of Venkatesh’s workshop, and how he instructed students to close their eyes in the pose. As soon as I closed my eyes, what could have been a rote practice (2… 3… 4… 5…) turned into a flood of sensation and interest. I think of it as “melting the moment.” Cracking open the shell (like an M&M!) and finding myself in that timeless space inside the breath.

Ahhhh. And from then on in, it was a terrific practice — full of sensation and santosha. Nice.

And as my title suggests, there was lots of help from the cybershala. Patrick‘s “kitten paw kapo exercise” was lovely and instructive. The subsequent urdhva dhanurasanas were sweet and painless and sensationful.
And as I set up for my first dropback, I flashed on Grimmly‘s characteristic upper body stretch before backbends. I made a huge stretch and at the same time remembered Susananda‘s melting tailbone image (I can’t find the exact place where she talks about this, but the image is self-explanatory). And yeah, I could hook right into that one. So between the huge stretch up and the melty coccyx, it turned into a kitten paw dropback.

So thanks, everyone, for all the help this morning!

Oh, and if there’s anyone out there with Iyengar leanings who wants to help me understand how to use a setu bandhasana bench (yes, yes, I have a prop problem — we’ve already discussed this), please speak up. There is a dearth of information on the internet, and while it all seems pretty self-evident, I wouldn’t mind some tips from someone who really uses a bench.