Monday, April 30, 2007

noticing

before the evening class today, an older woman came over to me and thanked me. i had practiced next to her yesterday and i had noticed her crying quietly. as i am always uncomfortable around indivduals who are more or less than happy and calm, i wasn't sure as to what i should do. as i didn't know her, i would stay out of her business. so i was discrete. i kept looking over at her before, during and after class. i laid in savasana for quite a long time after that class...

the woman was that woman and she came to me and thanked me. she thanked me for noticing her. noticing that she was crying. for being compassionate. i had thought nothing of that day, certainly not that she had been aware of what was going on around her. she thanked me for staying in savasana until she started moving again. wow. i had noticed her that day, but it seems that she noticed me more. it was strange. i had never talked to her before. she gave me a big hug and i returned the hug awkwardly...

we never exchanged names.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

oops...a huge gap

with the extremely busy schedule and lack of computer, i have put off the blog for sometime. i have journaled, not daily as i had planned, but at moments. i had every intention of keeping a jounral of my experience here in hawaii but like many good intentions, it has been put off, delayed, postponed. and of course the usual suspaecs as to why i write after almost 2 weeks of my being here.

tomorrow, friday, will mark 2 weeks in honolulu. it is all still very much surreal. perhaps when you are in such a physically beautiful place and space, it seems always a bit surreal. perhaps having come from paris makes it all the more surreal. perhaps it is my constant moving around. in the last 6 months of my life, i have traveled quite a bit. perhaps not so much as travelled (w/plans, a destination, a timeline), but drifted around. aimlessly, with no plans, no destination, no timeline. at least of my own. mountains in the fall. mountains in the early winter. red sandstone mountains, natural hot springs in the early winter's cold, early morning frost. locked up in confining spaces. a home that is not my own. a city of millions and millions and aging landmarks of "history." and now? a tropical paradise in the middle of the ocean. thousands of miles away from every soul that has come and gone in my life until this moment. in a hotel room. living with a stranger from minnesota. in a tourist's corner of paradise, trying to practically and impractically piece my life back together. a critical endeavor, with 300 something other similarly minded (?) individuals, all of us seeking something. perhaps to fill an absence that is in reality, unknown. perhaps they are here like i am here. perhaps it is not the case. regardless, it is a bit like school again. i have not been in such an environment since school - a large group of people in some kind of general synchronicity. i guess in truth, the last time i was with such a group was at the hospital, there was indeed a general synchronicity there as well. perhaps it is because of the fact that i am still drugged up on 5 different prescriptions. i sleep very little, not enough to wake up from the medication. i tire myself with practical knowledge and attempts of introspection...

i keep my mind open, i keep my heart open, and i am trying to keep my body clean.

Thursday, April 19, 2007

2 times a day

i am extremely tired. yoga 2 times a day is not easy. i still feel a bit disoriented. but everytime i do yoga, it makes me feel really good. i really don't know what the hell it is, but it works for me. we had class until 10:30 tonite. i met the other guy from the Paris studio, he was quite nice. he said hello first and said that it was a big surprise to see me there. he asked me if i wanted to teach, i said i am not sure, i have not thought that far. for now, i am here to immerse myself in a yoga world for 2 months. he said he felt the same, but that he may teach once he returns. he is shorter than i am. he has a very strong practice.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

yoga yoga yoga

- the roomie.

They couldn't have picked a nicer roommate for me. Almost too nice. Kinda cheesy nice. I think he wants to play roomie - go shopping together, take turns cooking, study together, etc. Anyhow, he hails from Minnesota. I don't know much about him, but he's coming out of an almost 20 year marriage, with joint custody of 2 preteens. Substance abuse apparently was a big culprit. He seems like a really nice guy who is trying his best to get his life back together. He seems to be a good father to his children. I'm sure that we will get to know each other better with time.


- introductions.

We spent a good portion of the today passing the microphone around so that everyone single one of us could make a quick blurb about ourselves. I think we ran out of time when the mic made it half way around (reminder). There were many interesting stories (some very short, others very detailed and long) of course. Many tales of physical injuries (minor and major), acute and chronic illnesses, emotional/psychological problems, broken familial relationships, divorce, chemical dependency...you name it. Cancer, horrific car accidents involving deaths and serious injuries, scoliosis, blown knees, weight problems. It's interesting to me how some people are very quick to share the most intimate information so readily, amongst strangers. It's also interesting to me how aloof certain persons, including myself, were. Regardless, it is beyond interesting, infact amazing to think that 315 people, despite all of their (i really should say "our") independent problems and tragedies and comedies, were all generally in agreement about the helpful, positive, transformative(?) space that their yoga practice had become to occupy. Ten plus year veterans, six month veterans, medical doctors, social workers, teachers, microsoft "six figure salary" (openly stated by many people), "i sold my home to pay for this program" people, i left my family and kids behind people - all sorts of people. All somehow in some general agreement about the relationship between their well being and their yoga practice. and so began the introductions...


- medication, yoga fashion, and staying hydrated

I also got to meet the beloved of the one who sits on the throne. Since I was forthcoming with my recent hospitalization and a decent cocktail of prescriptions, I was required to speak to her. She asked about my condition, she insisted that i continue my medication. She inquired about my yoga experience. I said 2 months of her yoga and 3 months in total. However she heard "years" not "months" and proceded to ask me more or less, how the hell did you get in the program? so obviously her and the one who sits on the throne don't really pay that much attention to the actual admissions process. Despite how much both of them talk up how selective they are in their admissions process, obviously, they are not the ones selecting. Shouldn't they have known? Perhaps the duchess of the desk (the one who seems to run all the communications coming in and out of the office) and the director (the one who actually organizes and operates the actual training program) felt a soft spot for me or who knows. Anyhow, as I told the duchess and the lieutenant AND the beloved of the one who sits on the throne, I am grateful for the opportunity, regardless of how much money they charge for the opportunity. Ultimately, I am very grateful. Who can say anything about the future with any kind of certainty? But for the time being, I know that this is perhaps the best thing that I have ever done for myself. Of course this exceptional opportunity granted to me also makes me feel out of place. For example, there are two other people from Paris. One of them actually works there. He recognized me, as I recognized him, but I was invisible to him apparently. I said hello one day and he said hello. Then today, he asks me basically, "how the hell did you get into the program?" I explained, persistence. He seemed quite annoyed actually that I was there. He quickly informed me that at the Paris studio, they are VERY selective and it is VERY difficult to get a recommendation. Furthermore, that the studio would not even consider someone with less than one year of experience for a recommendation to the training program. Perhaps he was just being very informative...but in general, I have a feeling that I am undeserving of this opportunity or that I somehow don't belong there...

So all this added even more spotlight and drama to the already competetive atmosphere. I was quite anxious and a bit worried. I made myself nervous with performance anxiety. In my mind, I knew what I kept telling myself was the truth, that nothing mattered except for that I try my absolute best and was willing to accept that my best effort was all I had control of. But nonetheless, my mind was competing with other thoughts, such as: out of 315 people, I surely won't be number one, nor number 315. I guess that is normal. So when it finally came time to "do" some yoga, it got even more tense. Fancy ass yoga mats that are probably more comfortable to lay on then the futon i had been sleeping on, yoga outfits I've never seen before in every color combination you can imagine (AND I wondered if some of those outfits had to be dry cleaned, they were so elaborate there is no way you can throw them in the washer; perhaps they are handwash and air dry only, no iron), designer yoga mat bags (I swear gucci, channel, louis vouitton, etc. should make yoga mats and bags, they would make billions), strange ass warm up excersises that i've never seen before, the sea of ink on everyone's skin, although most everyone's ink is in very visible places regardless of how much or little clothing they are wearing, elaborate water bottles (apparently nalgene is not so a la mode, it's metallic containers which i swear i own one, but it is made to be a reusable liquid fuel canister for my camping burner and hydration systems and methods involving more than one bottle and insulating bottles mixing this and that (much like a chemistry class), the debates between vegans about the best protein sources (apparently soy is out, it has too many hormones that affect your health and mood), the flexible freaks showing off how freakishly flexible they are - I felt a bit out of place to say the least. I think the average yoga experience worked out to 1 to 2 years. So there I was, almost 3 months of hot yoga experience, my cheap ass floral print mat (that stinks, literally), with my cheap ass homemade yoga mat holder (I still think it's ingenious, a student did ask me if I made the mat holder and was tickled that it was homemade), my cheap ass swimming trunks, my crushed and pathetic 1.5 liter disposable water bottle (that I have been recycling and using over and over again) filled with lemon slices, a pinch of sugar and a pinch of salt (apparently that is the cheapass version of gatorade and electrolyte supplements), I felt a bit out of place. Hell, I am trying though. I am eating alfalfa sprouts, onion sprouts, green leaves, and chicken and boring healthy stuff that's cheap, and avoiding all the yummy stuff i love to eat, so no more coke and no more coffee and no more giant bowsl of cereal in bed after giant dinners, no more entire baguettes with ounces and ounces of butter and jam spread all over or croissants and pain au chocolate for breakfast. sniff.

So finally it was time for the yoga showdown. A mad dash for all premium spots (i.e. right in front of the mirror), seriously. People running and pushing and being not very nice so they could lay down there yoga mat and claim there spot. I should just fart nextime people try to take my spot. Anyhow, I did fine. I hadn't practiced for days, but i was fine. The class was not too difficult. They kept the heat down and gave us some extra long breaks inbetween several positions. But hell, I saw people who had been practicing for however many years and people with fancy ass yoga mats and elaborate water bottles and hydration methods and systems who couldn't fucking do the class. I know it's not competitive and I really don't want it to be, but it gave me some confidence and that I do indeed belong in that room. Shit, people were at the first aid table, chugging pedialyte and...I felt fine.

Monday, April 16, 2007

halfway across the globe to the yoga factory, with baggage in hand (delayed, but better than never)

- getting there.

after a 24+ hr voyage with a delayed bicycle box (this is normal for me, i have an uncanny gift for delayed baggage) and 2 sleepless nights in a quirky (redundant) hostel shared with strange (redundant) people, ants and cockroaches (small babies, but they were not cute), i packed my bike (awaiting the delivery of which was a good half day of saturday's activity) and headed over to the hotel where i would be spending the next 67 days.


- baggage.

i must say, i am quite proud of myself for having left paris with merely a backpack and a yoga mat with homemade carrier. and a big giant bike box. i don't know why i pride myself in minimalist packing. perhaps it is a visual and tangible reminder of simplicity. the simplicity i want in my life. visual, tangible, invisible, intangible, spiri...you know what i mean. simplicity. 67 days. a backpack (a small school type, mind you, not one of those i'm going to europe arei giant backpacks, been there, done that). a yogamat (with homemade carrier). and a 20 year old peugeot bicycle. i finally arrived at the hotel where i would be spending the next 67 days of my life. as i was early, i checked my bag(gage?). parentheses, question mark, because i am not sure if a backpack attached to a make shift yoga mat holder attached to 3 plastic sacks held together by an extra tire can be considered baggage. in fact, the discrete doorman handed me my baggage claim ticket, and on it was written "5 pieces." in fact, when i later went to claim my bag(gage?), another doorman upon retrieving my mass of things strangely bundled together says to me, "wow. you got it to all stay together." not so discrete, but optimistic.

inbetween the baggage checking and claiming, i stood outside of the hotel, watching the guests coming and leaving. baggage (parentheses, but no question mark) coming and going. and i started to see baggage with yoga mats. and more baggage. and more yoga mats. At the hour of registration, a line began to form. which quickly turned into a herd. a herd of yoga trainees. i do mean the herd. 315 of them. i mean, 315 of us. after literally 2 hrs of waiting to register, i entered the yoga room with the fire departments mandatory signage "maximum occupancy 4__" (i will note the exact number tomorrow). a giant yoga room. with miles of lines. and mirrors. and those folding chairs - the kind where you sit on the floor, but there is a back support (what the hell are those called anyways?). a sea of them in a half circle. and at the front, the stage, are a row of regular chairs. and behind the chair, a raised platform. and on the platform, a giant, luxurious, black leather chair. a throne. not jewel encrusted and shiny, but a throne nonetheless. and next to it, a artistic rendition of the one who i assume will be sitting on that throne. correction, the one who will at times be present and i assume will be sitting on that throne, when his busy schedule allows.

since you are now bored to tears, or have long since started skimming what i have written so far, i'll make it quick. all the staff and instructors and the beloved of the one who sits on that throne introduced each other and themselves. and they introduced their baggage. the other kind of baggage. a highly abbreviated presentation of their baggage, the baggage that yoga has helped them pack up for one last time, and leave it behind. or so they claim anyways.

the herd of 315. all 315 of them. i mean, 315 of us. with all our bag(gage). all of us in one giant yoga room. with miles of lined yoga carpet and mirrors. where 315 people with all of our problems and demons and hopes and dreams will sweat. profusely...for 66 days (we did not practice today). a factory of sorts, but a factory nonetheless. a factory that helps people with their baggage. a factory that claims to help you, reorganize, repack, and perhaps lighten the load of your baggage.

i guess that each of us herded into the yoga factory for our own unique reasons. as is their (i mean "our") baggage. it's like at the airport, when you're at the baggage carousel. you see really nice fancy baggage. cheap baggage. broken baggage. dirty baggage. baggage that is so broken that it and the protruding contents have been placed in a special temporary container provided by the airport. some people skip the carousel all together, they don't have baggage. or they have only a little baggage. small enough to be carried on the flight kinda baggage. some people box it. some people lock it up. sometimes your baggage gets lost. at times it is delayed (in my case it is always delayed). you get the point. 315 of us. all with baggage. and some of us, bag(gage).


- the yoga factory.

so i start my yoga monologue. i am critical. i am optimistic. i am open minded. my monologue about the herd of 315. about me. about my baggage. about the yoga factory.