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The Cop helped me in dwi pada this morning. Folding back the left leg is easy, but then there I am, right leg flapping around next to me. “Just stick that leg behind the other one,” I said. He seems a little concerned about this every time he helps me. A gentle teacher. It’s coming along. But seriously, the balance on this?? As a wise woman pointed out to me about some poses, “It isn’t there, it isn’t there, it isn’t there, and then it is.”

I’m really hoping that’s true in the way it was for the lift in upavishtha konasana. It wasn’t there, wasn’t there, and then — surprise! — one morning it was. Better that than baddha konasana, where it wasn’t there, wasn’t there, still wasn’t there, hurt like a son of a bitch to even try, was SO not there, needed to be left out entirely, and then, finally, was there.

***

Ever read Chuck Palahniuk’s book, “Choke”? If I didn’t know better I’d think it was about Daisy. She has driven me to research doggie Heimlich maneuvers. Pretty routinely, she scarfs up her food in a way that makes her reel around the bowl, gagging and making horrid noises as she tries to dislodge the obstruction in her throat. It’s pretty scary. Then she goes in the backyard and eats the longest palm frond she can find, or a length of Bermuda grass rhizome. Then she wanders back in the house, stumbling and retching and heaving until I grab it and pull the length of the vegetation out of her throat.

Last night, she grabbed a long nylabone by the end and ran full force toward the couch, launched herself, and hit a bank of pillows. The force of it drove the nylabone straight down her throat. More retching and stumbling until I pulled it out. And sure enough, she did almost the exact same thing this morning.

Canine panchakarma?

Practice has been super delightful lately ’cause of the breath. My flotation experiences (and yes, I wish they’d just go back to calling it what it is: sensory deprivation) reminded me how much I enjoy breathing when I’m wearing earplugs. So practice these days includes props: the two sticky orange earplugs I bring home from the flotation spa sensory deprivation tank.

Lately I experience my breath as a sphere. Each inhale/exhale is one sphere and a single moment. I don’t think of anything that happens outside the sphere: nothing from the past, nothing from the present. If it isn’t part of the sphere, which is just the inhalation and the exhalation and the sensations of the particular posture or vinyasa, then I put it down. Sweet. It gets progressively harder to do as the week wears on; I find myself thinking about work stuff and playing scenarios in my head. No! No! No! Get out of my breath sphere! I’m entitled to at least 90 minutes per day of being beyond thought constructions, right?

***

Speaking of 90 minutes: at this point I am trekking through primary to yoga nidrasana five days a week. At almost every practice there is an interruption, usually towards the end, where my mind yells, “THIS IS A LONG HAUL!” Then I start the next breath sphere and go on.

***

Waylon, after spending close to two months going around with cuts all over his jowls from Daisy’s violent affections, finally corrected her this weekend. Apparently he nipped her. Neither The Cop nor I saw it; we just heard her yelp, then saw him immediately comfort her. Talk about not holding a grudge. He did it three times over the course of the weekend, and she is now approaching him a little more gently.

Interestingly, The Cop and I had recently started reprimanding her when she was trying to rip his face off, because it didn’t seem like he ever would and it was getting too crazy. I wonder if he finally felt like it was okay, once he saw that The Cop and I didn’t like what was going on.

Still, no matter how rough and tumble she is, how can you not love a face like this?

The other night, Daisy launched herself at the sliding glass door, pawing frantically. Figuring she had to go pee, I slid the door open… Oh, no! As soon as I did it I recognized the sound of the lawn sprinklers, which had just turned on. She’d slipped past me in the moment it took me to realize what was happening, and all of my commands and pleas that she come back in the house were ignored as she romped from sprinkler to sprinkler, biting the tops of them and running away like a maniac.

When the sprinklers finally switched off, she bounded back in — soaking wet — slid on the tile, then threw herself at the couch a number of times, before finally catapulting onto the The Cop. All of the dark spots on the couch are her failed attempts to get to him. Did I mention he hates getting wet? Still, he let her snuggle up once she’d managed to summit the couch.

And here’s a picture that I suspect pretty accurately illustrates Waylon’s experience of Daisy.

She warned me

When I was in Tucson, Lisa told me to get past the fear in Bakasana B, then go on to the foot behind the head poses. ““This is the treacherous part,” she said. “From here you keep adding poses to karandavasana, and it can turn into a very long practice.”

Word.

Something else she said, that I just reread in my journal

At the end of Friday led primary she said something as people were lying down for savasana: “Don’t start thinking about how you did, or whether you did well or not well. Just be grateful for the circumstances that brought you to your practice and keep bringing you to your practice every day. You are very lucky to be among the few people who do this. Be grateful to your teachers.”

This morning’s possible misinterpretation while listening to Yoga Matrix

The expansive nature of the prana (inhale) invites flights of imagination, potential for ungroundedness — which can be tethered through a grounding through the navel.

The nature of apana (exhale) invites anxiety about death (abinivesha), which can be *released* through the navel.

[Physical interpretation: It makes a kind of figure eight.]

A Year of Cats and Dogs

Yes, I suspect I would be appalled to find myself liking this book if I were actually reading it. But I had a credit to use up at Audible, and I wanted something amusing to listen to as I did housecleaning yesterday. And the narrator of the story can communicate with animals! My favorite thing!

Anyhow, her communications with dogs in a shelter range from delightful to utterly heartbreaking. Likewise her relationship with her elderly, failing Dad. I give the book a thumbs up, even though I can also be snotty about its literary value. And I give my self a thumbs down for that.

Primates!

About 75% of my FaceBooking involves commentless sharing of this blog. Yeah, I’m a FaceBook slacker, but come on! Look at the subject: Primates! (Well, the subject is stress, actually, but I’m in it for the PRIMATES.) Yup, I not only look like a chimp, I love to read about chimps. (Shout out to Jane Goodall!) As soon as I started reading this entry, I got all excited to read about baboons! Then I read his hilarious observation:

“One of the first things I discovered was that I didn’t like baboons very much,” he says. “They’re quite awful to one another, constantly scheming and backstabbing. They’re like chimps but without the self-control.”

I think I’ll probably stick with the chimps. They’re pretty unruly as it is. Baboons sound like a non-human version of “Lord of the Flies,” and I’m depressed enough from the cats and dogs book.

Quinoa salad

Quinoa, raw corn, sunflower seeds, chopped carrots, black olives, tamari, olive oil, lemon juice.

Protein bars

Mashed banana, chopped dates, oats, peanut butter, hemp protein powder, sesame seeds, maple syrup.

Dog food

Ground raw chicken legs and thighs — bones, fat and all.

Hemp protein powder

Yes, there is one that is super-powdery and melts easily in liquid. Now I don’t have to worry about wearing hemp grit in my teeth to afternoon meetings.

Snake(s)

The one I found: it’s either a lyre or a night snake, according to Russ at the Phoenix Herpetological Society. He responded to my email and pictures within 10 minutes. It was kinda getting to me, watching the dogs play out in the yard and not knowing whether there was a rattlesnake living in the grass.

Saturday night, The Cop and I were in the back yard. I saw a movement, the thrashy sidewinding way snakes move when they’re in a hurry.

“Look! A snake!” I said.

It was a tiny one, much smaller than the one I saw on Thursday.

Not sure what’s going on out there, reptile-wise. Lots of ‘em, and they all seem especially bold. On the other hand, I haven’t seen or heard a coyote in ages.

Fly

Yesterday’s delightful holiday nap was marred by an enormous divebombing fly in the bedroom. His mission, apparently, was to cavort on human skin and buzz more loudly than any fly has ever buzzed before. I fell asleep with the sheet pulled up over my head.

Last night, as I was falling asleep, The Cop announced, “I may have to terminate this.” I fell asleep, so I’m not sure how it turned out.

Daisy

You’d think since she went to bed late, after spending the afternoon and evening patrolling the perimeter, barking at neighbors who dared celebrate the holiday outdoors, tormenting Waylon, jumping up trying to bite The Cop’s wrapped hand, attacking the lawnmower, the weed whacker, me, my shoes, the curtains, and the fence that keeps her out of the yoga room, she’d sleep in a little. Not so. 4 AM is wake-up time. If I carefully ignore the progressively more frantic scratching, whining and crate-biting for 10 minutes, it’s like hitting the snooze button: she crashes for another 10-20 minutes. Three rounds of ignoring bought me 40 extra minutes of sleep this morning, in three micro-bursts.

Love

this picture of a beautiful kapotasana, along with a post
by someone who clearly thinks about more
than what it looks like.

Re: chimp grins and my reluctance about being photographed. A little info from the San Diego Zoo:

- Chimpanzees don’t like to be in water and usually can’t swim.
- Some observers have noted chimps feeding on medicinal plants when they are ill or injured.
- Research has shown that chimps and humans share 98 percent of their genes.
- Chimps can recognize themselves in a mirror.
- Chimpanzees make a grunting sound when they are happy.
- A toothy “grin” actually indicates fear or anxiety.

I’m not down with submissive gestures. For all of my cultivated equanimity, I’m off the charts on the D of DISC tests.

Anyhow, see the resemblance to my work photo? Really, it’s uncanny.

***

Reptile fest!

This morning, right before I stepped on the mat, I heard Daisy barking and barking. Nothing new. She likes to go out in the middle of the yard and bark, in hopes that the neighborhood dogs will bark back. She loves to pick fights. If she’s human in her next life, she’ll be a cage fighter for sure.

Something sounded a little different about the bark, so I looked out and noticed she was barking at something on the ground. When I went to check, I found a little (18 inch) snake coiled up & looking upset. Whoa! I grabbed Daisy, called Waylon, and retreated to the house. Where I got a camera so I could take pictures.

Here’s the picture I took to investigate its markings. You can get an idea of how little this guy is — or else those are some big grass blades.

Then I Googled to try to see if it was a rattlesnake. I figured that if I could make a positive identification, I’d need to go back and kill it. I don’t like killing stuff, but I do make exceptions for black widows and I think I’d feel the same about rattlesnakes. They’re a threat to the dogs, and I don’t think you can relocate them very easily.

Anyhow, from what I can gather, baby rattlers usually have a bud (though very small) on their tails right from the get-go. This snake had a pointy, non-rattler tail. And its marking didn’t look like what I found online. So I left it alone.

Went into the yoga room to practice and as I was pulling the curtains against the sun, I noticed that the huge lizard who hangs out on the top of the block wall was sitting on the ground next to the lawn mower! This is very weird — he ALWAYS stays on the top of the wall.

The reptiles are going berserk around here.

I tried to get a picture of the big lizard, but he took off when I opened the door to try to sneak up on him.

At this point, I am monitoring dog visits to the back yard. In fact, I am at home for lunch right now and wearing my dress along with The Cop’s muddy outdoor sneakers so I can supervise the dogs on their pee runs.

Animal kingdom. Over and out.

Everything converges. Starting here.

Then there’s this:

Now The Cop’s post-mountain-bike-accident, pre-osteopath’s-intervention pinkie:

And finally, picture #7.

“I have puppy exhaustion,” I announced to The Cop this morning. Indeed, Daisy is an utter joy — she is the happiest, bounciest, most irrepressible creature I’ve ever met. But man, is she a handful. For one thing, she rolls around in her crate all night. Every hour on the hour, she snorts and flips herself over in her crate — it sounds like someone repeatedly throwing a huge pot roast onto a counter top. At 4:15, she snuffles and scratches and flips some more, then whines to get out. Bleery, I open the crate, and she falls out, rolling over herself to get to me and Waylon, wiggling and snorting and biting at us as best she can.

Adorable.

Holy crap, though, I’m tired.

***

New book. Essentials of Hinduism. Another great read. I am always thrilled when I find a new interest — every book about it is a joy, a whole new world opens up. (Go ahead, ask me a question about old school alpine climbing or about whaling in the American Northeast. Or shipwrecks! God, I love reading about shipwrecks.)

It’s always curious to me how we have/develop affinities. If you’d given me this book 10 years ago, I would have glanced through, said, “Yeah, that seems interesting,” and put it down. Now I can’t wait to get home and have at it. Curious.

***

This morning was the first morning Daisy got into her crate in the yoga room by herself. I love the routine of dogs; I love that they like sleeping or watching as humans do yoga. During supta vajrasana, my head was right up against the crate. There I was, upside down, and I looked up and straight into Daisy’s green eyes as she calmly watched me do the posture.

Maybe it’s crazy, but I feel like dogs who watch yoga are preparing for a next lifetime, or remembering past ones. Creating (or sustaining) an important affinity.

So in Buddhism, there is reincarnation, but not of an individual soul. Basically, you “return to the one.” Hinduism posits an individual soul. I guess my intuitions about dogs and yoga are more aligned with the Hindu belief system, which is as it should be.

Okay, enough from this exhausted mind. I chatted with Owl this morning, and now I have a little tune playing in my head (always appropriate, as the Beatles tend to be): And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.

Don’t forget, you guys. We’re here to make energy to share with the others. (Yogi Manifesto)

I was so inspired by Jaime’s float adventure that I looked online to see if there were any float places in Arizona. Believe it or not, there is a new “float spa” about 3 miles from me! I went on Saturday for my first float and have one booked for next week. I loved it. I had always wanted to try a sensory deprivation tank. Of course, now they’re called flotation therapy pods, but whatevs.

Here’s a picture from their website.

How could you go wrong with 1,000 pounds of Epsom salts, right? Throw in darkness and silence, and you’ve got a perfect environment. The only other thing I wish they had (“Oxygen bar,” you’re thinking, right? “They should have an oxygen bar!” Well, they do. In a darkened room with a huge round fish tank.) — so the other thing they should have is an EEG machine so you can check out your brain waves afterwards. I felt like I shifted into theta in about 30 seconds.

***

Up early for practice this morning, then off to DC for the week. Heading to an executive compensation conference, then an advisory board meeting at our DC office. Gonna be long hours and very early mornings, so it’ll be hotel practices only. At least I’ll be treated to some nice humidity.

The Cop is taking a couple of days off to dog-sit. Daisy is too young to spend a whole work shift in her crate, so he’ll be hanging out with Waylon and “Little Pig” (her nickname since she snorts as she bustles about the house and yard).

Obviously this has to be a great podcast for me to bother typing a blog entry one-handed as Daisy chews on my other hand or jumps up trying to bite my hair.

Right at the very beginning Swami Jyotirmayananda talks about the relationship of Buddhism to Hinduism. After years of practicing zazen, and now years of practicing Ashtanga, I just knew the relationship was strong, but this is the first time I’ve heard someone say that Buddhism is a “blossom” of Hinduism. Maybe that’s a really obvious thing to say?

He is pretty dramatic, in terms of blurring the lines: says Buddha was an incarnation of Vishnu, and that instead of “Hare Rama, Hare Krishna,” one might say, “Hare Rama, Hare Krishna, Hare Buddha.”

Anyhow, check it out.

***

Wake-up time is moving back rather steadily. Daisy was up and ready to roll at 3:30 this morning. I don’t mind too much because next week I’ll be in DC for work. We’ll be offering an educational session at a conference, and the days will start early (on site at 7 AM). So I might as well roll back the body clock — in order to be at the venue at 7, I’ll be getting up at 4. I try not to think too miuch about the fact that that’s 1 AM, Arizona time…

***

List of Yesterday: Practice was leisurely since The Cop didn’t leave for work ’til 10. Waylon, running wildly through the yard with Daisy, crashed into one of the porch’s support beams and gave himself a black eye. My Gift and her girlfriend came over to meet Daisy — and loved her, of course! I made a huge pot of aloo gobi and some yummy naan. Karma yoga = service to dogs.