6/29/16 We are almost to the end of June and Mars goes direct tomorrow.  Mar the planet that rules so much in my chart.  This rajasic, active, blood red fiery planet will start to pick up momentum in the forward direction soon. Things have already started to.  I am getting a lot of new referrals for work.  I am being taken out of my state of reflection into that of activity.  I am still in the in-between phase though, where both reflection and activity are gently cohabitating.

 Last weekend Bill and I went to DC and attended a Rocket class that was advanced. It was full of inversions and hard stuff but that is not what has stayed with me.  What has, is what happened the first three minutes of class.  We congregated together in a small upstairs space of a building next to Whole Foods.  The floor was well worn with large windows on one side and a beautiful brick wall on the other.  A fireplace sat in the middle of the windowed wall.
 
Everyone was very cheerful and yang.  The group was a competitive one, but outwardly and refreshingly so.  It reflected a healthy group of smiles and muscles rather than a denying of sort type-group, which is always a bad thing.  When you get the competitive ones together who are frowning because ‘it isn’t a competition’ then this is never good—energy needs to go somewhere and when not released can result in nastiness.
 
Anyway…the young teacher, Jonathan seemed to know yoga well even though he hasn’t been teaching that long, so I  wondered if he had done this kind of thing in times past.  (Another life perhaps?) That is what I was thinking this guy looks all regular and competitive but there is a refinement about him that gives pause that this yoga is imbedded in his bones. 
 
He starts class by saying that he had to go to the doctors for a respiratory thing recently.  The doctor asked him to breathe and he was stymied, naturally breathing ujiyah breath but then remembered that this was all wrong.  He then started to deep breathe and this lead to inquiry, on his part of ‘how do I deep breathe’—he started to use his side muscles (intercostal) and then back muscles.  He tells us this as he defined for us how long the lungs are.  How they extend far up to the collarbones and then he points to below the rib area.  He asked us to lie in savasana and had us breathe.  For some reason, I started to access parts of my own lungs, parts not usually accessed as I lay there on the floor. 
 
This breathing experience felt new and I started to awaken some of my own cells that have been dormant for some time.  It is said that we ‘hold our issues in our tissues’ (and that grief resides in the lungs) and this rang true Sunday. 
 
I awakened a memory of 9th grade.  A time when it was discovered that I had scoliosis severe enough to warrant wearing a brace for 23 hours/day.  The memory brought forth was of the first day that I had to wear this Milwaukee Brace to school, a constraining contraption especially around my neck area.  I could barely turn my head.  Could barely look away.  I got to Spanish class at the beginning of my day and my teacher dramatically asked first thing, “Kristina, what happened?!” 
 
All eyes turned to me and I felt my face get red. The embarrassment burned into my cheeks, as I stammered “well I have scoliosis and have to wear this brace….”he didn’t seem to get it, but did get that on his part this was a faus pax and he shouldn’t have asked, which made the awkwardness of the situation even worse. 
 
Then my mind went further back to the day I was fitted for the brace.  How the doctor who measured me was actually very good at his job.  He had me learn all these exercises for my back that are yoga poses like bow and wheel which I seemed to be able to do well even back then. 
 
But that is not where my memory was stuck, it was in the humiliation of me being in my underwear and my mom looking on as he measured me and told me that I could lose a few pounds around my waist nodding to my mother.  This memory of being very angry and embarrassed floated up from my body/mind.  
 
As I was sitting with this memory in yoga it was as much an observing than a re-experiencing.  I started to think, I wasn’t fat and then to understand that some of my eating quirks started that day.  My desire for thinness and periods of dieting.  Periods of time when I would wear the brace for years afterwards up until college at night (even though I refused to wear it after a few months during the day) to constrain my belly and hips, corset-like to try to shrink my midsection. 
 
The yoga teacher, a talisman of sorts with his prompting of this memory though the breath helped me unleash what was stuck in me.  A trauma held that I was ready to let go of. I didn’t cry or feel any major emotion as I lay there, other than an inquisitive inquiry into my younger self that was victimized by this experience.  One that I was able to leave on the mat that day.

Asheville Summer 2014
I wake up to the rain.  I have my bedroom door open to the outside—the patter of rain and birds and cars in the distance with the sound of water splashing is invigorating to hear on this Saturday morning. Last weekend when I had been in Durham I attended an Astanga class and the teacher had mentioned a good Asheville Asthanga teacher, Tina that I might want to check out. 

I see this morning that Tina is on the schedule to sub a flow class at the studio I frequent.  My husband and I are apart this weekend.  He was in Washington DC last week for business so is all traveled out and my Friday was full of urgent cases and I am not up for the drive to Durham where he works.  *One of my young clients who has Bipolar Disorder destroyed his parent’s home in a manic rage.  He’s in the process of being committed.  Last I saw him,  he had a maniacal smile.  His father reassured me that he was“doing well” but I suspected mania was fueling his gleeful energy and recommended we increase his medication.  His parents were against this. My Friday afternoon ended up fielding calls from his parents and the school trying to get him hospitalized.

I arrive at the studio and head into class and see Tina, a young yogi  who looks ballerina ish in a astanga square bodied way. She has a book and singing bell in hand as she starts the class talking about our story.  Her voice somewhat shaky and I assume she's a little nervous—She talks about us mistakenly having a fixed plan for the future-like a concrete box that we are working toward this fixed ideal or we are caught up in the past, and events as either being good or bad rather than seeing life as a continuous process that we flow with toward our goals. 

She speaks of non attachment, aparigraha (my favorite yama) and how if we just let things flow we would be happier.  During the practice she says that when we get stuck in the past this is called depression and when we are constantly anticipating the future then this is called anxiety.  She encouraged watching, observing and noticing.  It wasn’t an easy practice but not overly challenging—holds and flow and warrior three for quite a long time and some restorative poses at the end right after we held pigeon, and half frog, I went into savasana early which I didn’t need to do because she ends up giving us a long savasana so mine ended up being like 15 minutes.  I tried to hold still  but started to get stiff after a bit. 

It reminds me of Adhil’s yoga nidra class that I attended when he came into town.  He told us we couldn’t move or we would ruin it for the class.  We were to not move at all for 45 minutes. I remember moving every so slightly and he yelled, “do not move!”  How did he see me move the blanket a hair of an inch to get it off my chin?? The lights were out—is he some type of ‘seer’ or what I had thought?  He chided the movers at the end of class as lost causes, un-evolved souls but complimented those who didn’t –they would reach nirvana or nidra heaven and the rest of us well we were doomed. 

Back to Tina—I talk to her after class.  She hosts a mysore class at her house on Sundays.  I may check it out tomorrow.  She has a nice way of speaking.  She touched my back when I was breathing heavy after bow (danurasana) and gave a gentle foot massages during final rest. Her style is comforting and pleasant.  The singing bowl was a nice touch that brought us back before OM.  

That night:  I made the mistake of looking at my work email. The client who I was concerned about didn't end up in the hospital but rather ran away from his home and is missing. He is in a very precarious situation and needs lots of prayers. I start praying 'Mother Mary I need your help again.’ The next day I head out for Tina's mysore class at her home.  I find myself on the wrong road so distracted and needed to call her for direction.  I get there and there are three other students.  We flow through the practice in her dark foyer with an Om bed sheet up next to the shoe cubbies.  An older student is there, adept but somewhat stiff and a woman who is efforting, a newbie.  The third man was odd, (as my neighbor, Sid would say, "Asheville weird")—working on the poses in his own order with a strange smile on his face.  Tina seem to avoid him and spends most of her time helping the woman.  At times she assists the older gentleman and me.  I feel like the emotional energy of worry has drained me and at one point I am ready to rollup my mat and leave. 

I stayed though and fixed my gaze on the specific drishti for each pose a few times asking her where to look so intent on staring at the right place.  She pauses a few times trying to remember.  We end with her giving us a heavenly foot adjustment and an OM at the end.  Off we go on our separate ways, the three of us back into the rain when class ends.  The odd man lags behind—I think he was doing marichyasana when I left.  Was it still raining?  I feel so tired and worried about this kid now gone for over 18 hours that he might perish in the elements that it takes effort for me to drive home. Where is he? I keep thinking that if only I convinced his parents to allow me to increase his med then he would be ok.  Those old irrational feelings like if I just tried harder everything would be ok come up again. 

 After Tina's class, I decide to go church.  The priest talks about forgiveness and how it isn’t up to us to judge but to wait until judgment day for this to be done—not ours to do.  "Leave the weeds alone with the wheat." 

I then think of the Tao

“Simplicity, patience, compassion.
These three are your greatest treasures.
Simple in actions and thoughts, you return to the source of being.
Patient with both friends and enemies,
you accord with the way things are.
Compassionate toward yourself,
you reconcile all beings in the world.” 

― Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching… 

In church I look up at the beautiful cathedral ceiling.  My heart starts to pound as I peer so high upward- that I am afraid that I could be lifted. This silly, irrational fear that I have had since I was a kid is felt—afraid of being lifted up and the ensuing heights and the stares that I would most surely get if my body drifted upward.  I pray—just return this kid safely and then I picture a God box that I places my worries in.  When I leave church the sun is shining—I find some peace leaving my worries in this imaginary God Box.  The weather lifting seems to mimic my new emotions. Later that afternoon I get a text that this child is found and ok!  He had wandered into a berry patch and ran into a woman who took him to the fire department to be check out. He is now hospitalized. Praise the lord (Thank you Jesus and Mary)—this kid had two counties of rescue workers looking for him but it took a woman picking berries to save him! 

(Almost all details in this blog re: the client have been changed to protect the his privacy and his family)

North Carolina August 2014
Saturday I went to *Jane's Bikram class.  For an August weekend it is rainy and dreary so thought ‘why not bikram?’  I walked in and saw Jane-a 40 something short haired bubbly blonde.  She is pretty, with a naturally stocky build a smaller upper body and a bigger lower half. She is very likeable and without pretense, a favorite of mine.  She likes the men but is just as kind to the women.  She always asks about my husband.  I tell her that he is home making salsa.  Her eyes brighten.  

She had been co-owner with Anna, the little moody owner until Jane sold her ownership and now is just another teacher.  Anna is precise and militant at times and at other times soft and sweet.  You just don’t know which Anna will be there. She yelled at me once in class and since then I am uneasy around her.  Thankfully she is out having baby number two.   Jane without Anna around seems more relaxed too.  She’s lost a good amount of weight recently and has that confident strut that is unencumbered, maybe in part because she has the studio to herself.  She seems happy and surprised to see me as I haven’t been there in months.  I walk into the classroom and it’s crowded and of course it’s hot with a faint smell of body odor.  I plant myself near the back behind two tall men but I can still see the mirror. 

I am trying to gear myself up for this.  I don’t enjoy Bikram but almost always feel better afterwards. I get in a few downward facing dogs before Jane comes in. My body feels great this week without injury.  My neck and back pain are almost gone.  Jane is whizzing through the series and only one set of lights are on.  Everything she says is relaxed and supportive.  Like “hurry up out of this” as we are coming up from a squat.  We all laugh because this is not what the dialogue is supposed to say.  She apologizes for hurrying blaming the caffeine and sugar she had that morning, “I haven’t eaten sugar in months and this week I started to slip and am eating it again.  It makes such a difference in how I feel.” Bad sugar bad…yeah we all know. I am holding the difficult poses w/o falling out encouraged by the low lights, her pace and her words. She has energy packets for us at the front desk as we leave “take one they are free” she says with glee—maybe she’s giving everything away before *Anna gets back. I grab a packet and thank her, feeling good about the practice as I walk out into the brief sunlight.   

Asheville July 2014
It is a Monday and I am thinking, 'Ok I really do need to get to yoga again soon but don’t have any motivation tonight.'  I went to the farmer’s market this afternoon after work and drank this cashew cacao concoction and now have a stomachache.  Well really I had the stomach ache before yoga class would have started but it seemed to have settled to the point of allowing me to get a second wind on eating.  I finished some mushroom raviolis with a wholemade sauce that my neighbor next door made from the tomatoes from our garden and after the pasta I finished it off with a salad with this tahini/nutritional yeast dressing and an apricot croissant and then a piece of chocolate. —she and her partner are the nicest neighbors we've ever had—generous, friendly but respect neighborly boundaries.They later text me to thank me for walking their dog over the weekend while they were away and offered me bread pudding “I know you aren’t eating too many sweets these days,, but do you want some?”  I told them, “I’m good.” 

As I sniff a piece of lavender I plucked from a plant outside, I think back on my weekend.  It really started with a cow.  Friday afternoon I made the trek out to one of the wilderness programs where I work and the cows were grazing on the periphery of the property.  The dirt bumpy road rarely has traffic except the coming and going of staff so I stopped my car to watch them for a few minutes.  One of the black cows started to watch me as I watched her and I thought to my self—how lovely is this life that I am living that I can go to work and gaze at cows on my way to work and watch them chew as they gaze back at me.

My husband was out of town for the weekend so I spent much of it socializing with girlfriends.  I called my friend Sarah to find out if she wanted to go to class on Saturday as I wanted to say goodbye to a friend who was moving to NYC as this was to be her last class with our teacher. Sarah wasn’t able to go but invited me to stop by before class. 

I arrived at her house with a few gifts of tomatoes from our prolific backyard garden and a pastry croissant from the farmer’s market that I stopped at on the way to her home, oozing with raspberry filling.  She and her son and dog greeted me outside. Her son was waiting for a friend.  He was in his own world swaying back and forth on a homemade swing attached to their front yard tree.  I watched him for a moment, dark and pensive and my eyes were drawn to his feet.  Thin and perfectly shaped they appeared to me so perfect that I commented on what nice feet he had.  I guess it was an odd compliment; He ignored me and his mom paused before thanking me as we walked away into the house.  She and I chatted for a few minutes on an upcoming writer’s seminar before I hurried off to class. 

Dear friends,
 
I leave for NY on Monday.  My to do list is a mile long. I don't care:) I'm stopping all to do's to be at class tomorrow.
I have been attending our teacher's class for 7 years. He has been a wonderful yoga teacher and light in my life.
In as much as I'd like to say I'll be back, I don't know. Please join me tomorrow in my final, but never last class, with my maestro and dear friend. Class is at 11am.
 
Much love,
*Jeannette
 
Our teacher's Saturday’s class is more of an event that a class at times.  He draws a full crowd and finding a space to put your mat down on can be challenging. (One woman actually plopped her mat down outside the door of the room into the expanding courtyard when she came in late after the class had begun.).  I hadn’t been to his weekend class in over a year so it was a reunion of sorts.  I had switched to the rigor of Bikram for awhile to try to heal a hip issue. When I got to class, Jeannette who the class indirectly was in honor of was at the desk signing in.  She is glamorous with her long reddish brown hair and green eyes.  She seems scattered and spacey but isn't, she is dressed today in a long scarves with big sunglasses, her laughter ever present and lilting voice with a sophisticated air. 

She is about my age give or take and is leaving the area to return to her home state of New York to be a curator at an art gallery and an adjunct professor at Stony Brook.  I am sad to see her go, I have enjoyed spending time with her before class and a few times after, when I have joined in with the yoga group that often meets for lunch.  She was always a favorite in the group when I would go—interesting and engaging. I picked a Goddess Card earlier that morning for her and made a photocopy of it. The card had to do with receiving and as we all gathered around her I thought the card apropos.

She was very thankful when I gave it to her and got teary-eyed that so many of us were going to miss her and were honoring her specialness in the community. Our teacher during class mentioned her and her faithfulness as a student for the last seven years and how we’d miss her but said she’d be back visiting, trying to keep it light as he asked her to demo a pose.  She remarked somewhat anxiously but gleefully, “Oh no, are you going to embarrass me?” A southerner, ever polite he seemed flustered, as it wasn’t his intention at all. The pose that she was to demo is a challenging one (eight limb pose) and she struggled initially to get into it, I looked over at another woman who I can only describe as the grande dame and hostess of classes—she was looking on nervously empathizing with Jeannette’s embarrassment.  Truly we all held our breath and then breathed a sigh of relief when our teacher, (a little guy) finally hoisted Jeannette up into the pose—we all clapped nervously ready to move on and away from the awkward scene.  
 
He started the class by saying that the class was to take a bird’s eye view of things. He looked around and sincerely and humbling thanked everyone for coming in his endearing way, “Thank y’all for coming today.”  He added, “Once I was in a class with my teacher and there was wayyy more people in the class than today”-we all looked around as he is saying this, how could you get way more people in here?  He goes on to say, “and my teacher (John Friend) said, ‘where is everyone?’ “You know, y’all, It is all a matter of perception.”  This lead into his story (as stories are the hallmark of his class) of how he was at a friend’s house recently and they live on a “homestead” and have chickens and horses and the horses were mating so this friend said let’s go watch and they all ran out to see this lesson in breeding.   Later that evening the friend told his daughter, ‘we are going to have a baby!’ and the friend’s child replied, ‘when did you mate?’ He added to the story, “she was thinking why wasn’t I there?”  Laughter….

He went on to say that “once after class someone told  (him) that he was too idealistic. He then glances over pointedly my way…Is he speaking of some comment I have made? Might it have been the time that I told him that ‘I want to live in his happy bubble??’  I tuned in again as he says, “But really with the sun 93 million miles from earth the PERFECT distance or we would burn to death or freeze, but don't… …his sentence seemed to fall off from there.