Insights from trekking the hills of Coorg with GoMowgli

This past Sunday was a "moonday" (in the Ashtanga tradition, we do not practice on either the full or new moon), so everyone who was practicing with Sharath had 2 days off in a row.  So, I decided to venture out for another trip with the folks over at GoMowgli, this time for a 2-day trip to the neighboring district of Coorg.  The main focus of this trip was a trek through the hills to climb up the tallest peak in the district, Tadiandamol, at an elevation of 1,748 meters (about 5,700 feet).  As I've mentioned in previous posts, having access to nature is really important to me and I have been known to spend 5, 6 or 7 hours at a time wandering around in the woods (or desert when I am back in Arizona).  After the last trip when I got my first view of the beautiful Coorg countryside, I was eager to go back and see it some more.  So, when GoMowgli posted that they would be leading a 6 hour trek in Coorg, I was totally game.  Ironically, despite a beautiful start to the trip, this trek actually turned out to not being my favorite trip with the GoMowgli people.

What I loved: winding through the Coorg hills on the bus, still enchanted by the site of the lush forests and fields of coffee plants; sitting in the back of a "no frills" Jeep and getting jostled around as we climbed over narrow, rough and rocky roads, watching the landscape pass by from the open back; walking the couple of kilometers up to the lodge where we were staying the night, all of us completely mesmerized by the wonder and beauty of the rising full moon (we all kept stopping to just stare at the moon, it was so beautiful) and enchanted by the sights and sounds of the forest--have you ever stood in the middle of a circuit of bats jetting back and forth between their nest and a food source?  I have.  And let me tell you, if you are quiet enough, you can hear the subtle flap of their wings, and between that sound and their quick, almost invisible, movement, it was like standing in the middle of swarm of ghosts.  The place we stayed at (Honey Valley Homestay) was far into the hills of Coorg, away from all the sounds and busy-ness of the city,

view from the porch of our rooms

with several friendly dogs that live there but have the freedom to come and go as they please and often accompany people on the hikes into the hills.

This sweet girl ended up being our companion during our hike.  We decided to give her the name of "Short Round," as she is tiny but clever, tough and full of spunk and energy, just like her namesake from "Indian Jones" 

The homestay also had minimal outside lights, a small library, good food and a fantastic view of the moon rising over the hills.  We, again, had a nice small group on this trip and, again, we all ended up feeling like close friends by the time the trip was finished.  So, with all these wonderful things, what happened that made this trip less favorable for me than the others.  Well, honestly, mostly poor planning on my part, as well as me neglecting the reason hiking is so important to me.  The other thing?  It is the beginning of summer over here, and a vast majority of the hike was out in the sun, through what is now, a lot of dry grass and brush.  Also, this hike was very long, it felt like it was probably close to 13 kilometers, though the distance is an approximation because I did not know the trail that we were on.

All of which leads me to my poor preparation.  Normally when I go out hiking in Boston, I bring one, maybe two bottles of water and rarely drink both of them, sometimes not even one, even during the summer time and even during the times that I am out for 5-7 hours at a time.  I also don't usually eat much when I am out hiking, because my body is on the move and eating actually feels more tiring.  I also never wear a hat and often put on very little sunscreen.  Yes, I know--bad lady.  So, I did the same thing here: I only brought along one 8 ounce water bottle for the hike and some dried fruits.  No hat, minimal water and I forgot to even bring my sunscreen--and yes, GoMowgli did tell us to bring a hat, sunscreen and plenty of water and food.  Well, what do you think happened with this recipe?  If you guessed sunburn, you would be correct.  Albeit a very amusing one, as I was wearing capri yoga pants and a short-sleeved shirt--which actually spared the rest of my body from getting fried, that and being able to use someone else's sunscreen.  I was also thoroughly exhausted by the end of the hike.  I drank very little water, even though it was very hot, but thankfully, the guides from GoMowgli brought some oranges, so that gave me both some liquid and energy.  I think it's actually quite amazing that I did not get heat stroke or something, given how little I took care of myself during this hike.  Perhaps my body remembers what it was like to live and run in the desert of Arizona?  (side note: yay Merrel for making awesome barefoot trail shoes.  I did not feel a single sharp edge of a rock and the light-weight shoes are a blessing on hikes, as is being able to be "barefoot" during hot temperatures, not mention being able to be "barefoot" makes balance so much easier).

Either way, this hike also did something else, other than just leaving me feeling quite exhausted and weary of the sun--it revealed exactly how much the Ashtanga practice is doing for my body.  Any time I start lamenting about how much I miss really using my legs, and worry about them losing strength, remind me of this time, when, after a month and a half of only doing the Ashtanga practice (and not even my full Intermediate practice, which has a lot of leg-strengthening postures), and much less walking around and climbing up and down all the stairs that I used to encounter every day just from living in Boston, my legs carried me over around 13 kilometers of hilly and rocky terrain in what was probably around 90 degree heat--with the crux of the hike (the tallest peak) being at the very end of the hike.  Remind me also of how my feet carried me over these hills, after the practice helped to heal and strengthen them after years of stress from running.  My breathing was also strong and steady and my body automatically kept an even and steady pace--there really was not much thinking on my part, my brain was too tired from the heat for that, lol (although, to be fair, some of that also comes from my background in distance running).  My Sanskrit language teacher, Laksmish, likes to tell us about an analogy regarding the keys on a harmonium.  He refers to the black keys as being the unpleasant, painful or "bad" times and the white keys as being the pleasant, joyful or "good" times, and he notes that, while playing the harmonium, you cannot have a melody, or song, using only the black keys or only the white keys, you have to use both.  The analogy, thus, being that in life you cannot have only pleasant times, as we all say that we wish we could, because it would not be a complete experience, or song, you have to have unpleasant experiences as well.

So, even though this was not my favorite trip with GoMowgli and I finished that day feeling weary and hot and mildly annoyed with the experience, the days since have given me more time to see how the seemingly "unpleasant" experiences in this trip really only added knowledge to the experience from a different angle, highlighting all of the things that serve me so well in my life right and has given me a more clear of exactly how they support me.  The Ashtanga practice is my base, giving my body and mind so much strength, focus and balance.  It also shed some clarity on exactly what it is about India that draws me to this country.  Yes, of course, the landscape here is beautiful and unique, but, for me, it is nature within the context of this culture that really distinguishes it from other natural places.  Usually, after my last two trips with GoMowgli, I return to the Gokulam neighborhood (where I am staying) feeling even more connected to this country and its people.  This time, I did not.  And that has nothing to do with how this trip was run, it simply has to do with what connects me to this place, as I think all of us that travel here have our own things that draw us to this country.  For me, it is the culture, the people, the history and religion and spirituality, and those things in combination with the natural surroundings that pull me here.  This trip has shown me that, because there was much less interaction with the people and exploration of culture, simply because that was not the focus of this trip, the hike itself was the primary focus.

As for how hiking fits into my life--the hiking is best as a solo experience for me.  Yes, I know--everyone says, "don't go hiking by yourself."  But the hiking is like my "outdoor yoga"--it is not just a physical exercise, it is something that I do to disconnect from the outside, social world for a while and reconnect with the peace, beauty and simplicity that is so easily accessible out in nature.  As Sharath noted during one of the conferences here, there is a reason that all of the ancient yogis went to the Himalayas and the forests--going deep into nature and away from humans, meditation comes naturally, so half of the work of their meditation was already done for them ;-)  And for me, it is very hard for me to find that when I am hiking with people.  I usually walk much slower during my solo hikes, just naturally moving much slower and taking time to stop and soak in the experience.  But during this last hike, I found myself moving faster than I would on my own just to try and get further away from the group, away from people.  It had nothing to do with the specific people that I was with, they were all kind and friendly people, but what I was really craving was to be out in nature by myself.  After I have been able to spend several hours out in nature, by myself, I find it easier and less draining to be around people.  Ironically, hiking does not usually make my Ashtanga practice feel worse by giving me tight muscles, if anything it actually makes it feel stronger and more stable, especially with regards to my back bending practice.  I know I said that the Ashtanga practice does keep my legs strong, even though it is sometimes hard to tell, but there is something about hiking out in nature and getting to scramble and climb over the rocks of a terrain that connects me to my legs in a way that just going for long walks in the city or walking up and down stairs cannot even come close to achieving.  Every time I come back to my practice the day after a hike, my legs feel more awake and it feels like I can really feel and access them when I am standing up from and dropping down into my back bends.  And, because I can really feel the strength and stability coming from my legs, the back bending is easier because it feels like I can more easily relax the upper body because it feels like I have more support coming from my legs.  So in the days following a hike, my back bends feel easier and deeper than they do when I have gone for a long time without going out for a hike.

Of course, I don't know the terrain here, so the only way I can really go out hiking here is to go with a group.  All of that being said, the terrain in the hills of Coorg is breath-taking, even in the dry summertime (I can only imagine how beautiful it must look at the end of the rainy season, with the hills much more green and all of the streams and waterfalls flowing with water).  And, as always, the GoMowgli guides not only knew the area, but they also truly cared for it, picking up trash along the way and eventually carrying out 3 full bags of other people's trash

one of our guides (a native of the Coorg area) picking up trash at one of the streams that we stopped at

So, many thanks, again, to the people at GoMowgli for organizing trips like this for us and for sharing your country and culture with us :-)

And, without further ado, pictures :-)

some of the landscape at the beginning of the hike

one of our guides leading the way and searching out his landmarks

You see that dark grey and white patch in the middle of the picture, just above the trees?  During the rainy season, I am told that it is actually a beautiful waterfall

That peak is Tadiandamol--still a long ways off at this point, I'd say that we were maybe about halfway

"Kaa" (his GoMowgli nickname) perfectly at home in his home region

finally starting on the path to ascend the peak

view of the hills that we trekked over to get to the peak

going through a little walk in the jungle--with "natural stair cases"

Finally, at the top of Tadiandamol

I have no idea what was so funny--possibly thinking about how crazy my hair must look at this point ;-)

Short Round (aka "Shortie") joining me for a photo op

Heading back down the mountain--where I finally got some alone exploring time, since I knew the path this time

And, one last shot of our faithful doggy side-kick, because she really made this hike special--waiting for the people in the back of our group to catch up, sometimes scouting ahead, being adorable with her need to be up on the highest surface whenever we stopped and for just being a great companion during a long and strenuous hike--did I mention that she also ran after the Jeep when we got to the end?  We tried to get her to go in the Jeep, but she would not, so she followed after us all the way to the point where the road split back to the lodge.  Thank you for coming and staying with us Shortie ;-)

Practicing at the Ashtanga Yoga "Mothership"

So, now that you have an idea of how the Ashtanga Yoga system works.  Here, at the main shala for Ashtanga Yoga (a.k.a, “Ashtanga Yoga Home Base,” “Ashtanga Yoga Mothership,” lol), it is very much the same, but also quite a bit different.

For one there are MANY more people practicing at the same time, lol.  So many students have been coming over the years that not only was a new shala built (the original one in the neighborhood of Lakshmipuram could only hold 10-15 students, I think; the current one, in the Gokulam neighborhood, holds probably close to 100, and even then students end up practicing in the locker rooms!) but they also had to assign people to time slots, with the first group starting at 4:30 in the morning, and the last as late as 11:00 in the morning.  Sharath gets up even earlier and does his practice I think around 2 in the morning.  I know, I wonder the same thing—when does he sleep?!  Anyways, when you arrive in Mysore, you go and see Sharath (if you are practicing with him) and he gives you a start time, usually on the later end (unless you are a regularly returning student of his, then you are likely to be put in an earlier start time, with the chance that it could be 4:30am, lol).  Then, as people leave to go back to their homes, your time gets pushed back to an earlier time.  I started out at 10:30am and am now at 9:00am.  Now, don’t think for a moment that because there are so many students practicing there that Sharath does not somehow know who you are, because he does.  I don’t know how, but he does.  He may not know your name yet, but he knows you, and what time he gave you.  I’ve seen him catch people trying to get in earlier, “you, why are you here?  I gave you 10:00 start time.  You’re too early, go home.”  He also has his own method for when he lets people come into the room.  When you arrive for your start time, there will usually already be people waiting either in the lobby outside the practice room

or, if it’s really busy, on the stairs outside.  

You sit down behind everyone else and wait until someone in the room finishes their practice and Sharath calls, “One more!” or “Two More!”  Prior to coming here, I had heard how some people try to push their way to the front, but my time group is so incredibly polite and courteous.  Sometimes when Sharath calls one more, there is a delay and he calls out, “no fighting,” but we are not fighting saying, “it’s my turn!” we are trying to figure out who’s turn it is, saying, “no, you were here first, you go!”  But, as I said, Sharath also has his own method.  Sometimes it depends on where there is space.  If the open space is up on the stage (there is a small stage up front where he usually sits, with just enough space to have 2 students practicing on either side of him), then he calls, “One more!...Small!” (I think that if he ever plays Tetris, he is probably a master Tetris player, lol).  Or, in the case with the group of the time slot that I practice with, he usually has one guy move to the front of the line because his practice tends to be slower, “Slow man, you come front!”  Other times, it has to do with not who arrived at practice first that day, but with who has seniority.  I saw that yesterday when he pointed to a lady and said, “You, come front, she is senior student,” or “you come front, you registered first.”  Other times, there is just no obvious reason, such as when he had me and another girl move to the front of the line even though I believe both of us are in Mysore for the first time, both of us arrived at class today a little behind everyone else and both of us registered around the same time as everyone else—who knows, lol!  What’s really amusing is to hear him call for a specific person but he does not know their name, so he calls, “One more—Japanese!” or “One more—Russian!”  So, though he may not know your name, he definitely knows who you are, and where you are at in your practice.

Similarly to when you first start practicing Ashtanga Yoga, on your first trip to Mysore to study with Sharath, everyone practices the Primary Series first, even if you are practicing from a series further in the system with your teacher at home (for example, I am about ¾ of the way through the 2^nd series with my teacher, Kate O’Donnell back in Boston).  There are a couple of reasons for this.  The first of which is that you are new to Sharath, so he needs time to observe and get to know you and your practice, from the beginning.  The second is that the Primary Series has a very grounding energetic effect.  Traveling at any time has the ability to leave you feeling very disoriented, let alone traveling (for many of us) across multiple time zones to a completely unfamiliar place.  You will likely be tired, so practicing only the Primary Series in the beginning is also help get you settled.  I must say that for these first couple of weeks, my yoga practice has been just about the only thing that has felt familiar and safe (meaning that I didn’t have to worry about it making me sick, lol).  Which brings me back to the point I was trying to make at the beginning of all of this, lol—practicing in the main shala is very different than practicing at your home studio and with your home group.

With more people practicing there, the energy of the room is literally different.  It is stronger.  During my first practice, aside from being full of nervous energy (since it was the first practice) I literally felt carried along by the strong energy of so many people practicing in the same place.  So, in some ways, practice has felt easier here because I am being helped along by the strong energy of all the people there practicing in the shala--kind of like how it is easier, sometimes, to run faster, or just easier, when you are running with a strong group of people (like in a race or something).  But, that also means that it is easier to get carried away by the energy, and you have to really make sure that you keep the focus on you and your breath and your dristhi (gazing point).  I have noticed that if I let my mind wander for a moment (to either what the person next to me is doing or to some random thought that floats through my mind) then I lose track of where I am in the practice, “what number breath was that?” “Did I already do that pose on this side?”  So, for me, I have noticed that I have become much more focused while I am practicing here…you know what else has helped in putting my mind in a more quiet and receptive state?  Being sick, lol!  Anyways, with the practice taking on a much stronger internally-oriented focus, a lot of the more subtle aspects of the practice have become more noticeable—such as how the connected pose-breath pattern creates a rhythm and when you pause or fidget, you break that rhythm, or, similarly, how letting even the smallest bit of aggression into your practice (either in trying to force your way into a pose or in feeling competitive with the people around you) also breaks the rhythm of the practice; or seeing how much letting your gaze wander invites wandering thoughts.  Or, from a more physical standpoint, how making a small adjustment in how you do a pose really changes how it feels—such as noticing that when I focus more on pressing down on the actual tops of my feet, and not the tops of the toes, in Upward-facing dog

 it creates a much more anchored feeling in the pose, making the back bend part of the pose feel more accessible, and making it feel like I’m also more connected to the rest of my legs.   But, even though the internal focus seems to be heightened here, practicing at the main shala is simultaneously also a practice in being aware of your surroundings because you are likely to not have more than one hand’s distance on all sides of your mat between you and the people practicing next to you.  So, when you move into and out of postures, you have to be aware of where the people are around you, otherwise you could end up knocking someone in the head when you jump into or out of a pose, or end up sticking your foot in someone’s face, or having all of those things done to you, lol.  I know everyone expects that they will often have another person’s body part either touching them or on their mat, but I still feel awkward letting that happen, lol.

~SIDE NOTE: Sharath’s led classes are both hard, as he makes you hold all of the more challenging postures longer (such as in the last posture, Utpluthi

 where he gradually counts slower as the numbers get closer to the final number, 10: “Seven, don’t come down…………….Eight…………………………Nine……………………………………………………………..(walks out of view to check in on students in another area of the room while your arms are shaking from effort and you don’t know if you will be able to stay up for another microsecond)…….oh, why you come down?!………Ten!”) and they are totally amusing, because it’s a bit like a game of “Simon Says:” “Inhale, lift your head, exhale there.  Don’t move!  I said, ‘exhale there,’ why you hurry?”~

Another thing I have found about practicing here, thus far, is that there seems to always be something that you need to give up, usually it’s a sense of control.  As I mentioned, one of the benefits of this practice being taught in the self-practice method is that it makes us responsible for our own practices, and starts making us into our own teachers.  However, there is a danger of becoming rigid in our practices, clinging to our old habits and becoming closed off to new ways of teaching, thinking that, “hey, I’ve got this down!”  And we forget that we are all still students, learning both from the teacher and from the practice itself.  I had thought that I have always been pretty open and receptive in my practice, until I came here and Sharath started to change my back bends.  For those of you unfamiliar with the practice, each series goes like this: surya namaskar (“salute to the sun,” picture this as part of your “warm-up”), standing poses (again, like a warm up, the suyra namaskar and standing poses are the same for everyone), the postures from whatever series you are practicing, a back bending sequence (with varying degrees of intensity or “bendy-ness”), and the finishing postures (which everyone does, no matter which series you are practicing).  Currently, my back bending practice has become advanced, but it was not always like that.  I had to really work for it to be where it is at now.  At first, it was issues with pain in the lower back (courtesy of old back issues related to a hiking injury and imbalances from a foot injury).  Then it was issues with extreme light-headedness, to the point where I felt nauseous and thought I might black out.  I became quite nervous and fearful of doing them.  But, after years of patience and caring attention, both from my teachers and from the attention that I, myself, was bringing to those poses, my back bends are now in a really good place.  Even at their deepest, they feel very freeing, empowering and like there is literally more space in my back.  So, when Sharath started to change them, I immediately felt resistance.  They were not big changes, just move the feet wider apart (well, a lot wider for me, I currently prefer them hips-distance apart, he wants them almost as wide as the mat) and do not work to straighten the legs.  Currently, in my deepest back bend, I am “catching” (Sharath’s word of choice, lol) my own ankles (without assistance) and balancing and breathing in that posture for several breaths before coming up on my own.  

Or, when I am doing them with my teacher, the hands are further up the legs, to maybe about the lower calf muscle.  When I am doing that, I work towards straightening my legs because doing so feels like it helps me really access my legs and stay balanced in the posture well.  So, with his changes, having the feet wider apart and keeping the legs more bent, I felt totally disoriented.  It felt harder to use my legs and like my center of gravity was totally off.  I started feeling pretty annoyed by this, thinking, “Quite messing around with my back bends!  You don’t understand everything I had to go through to get them this way!  I know what I am doing in these, just leave them alone!”  But, I was forgetting something—I am not the teacher.  He knows where he is taking my back bends, I do not.  Furthermore, here, in this place and with this teacher, I am a beginner.  No matter what I practice at home or at what level I think I am at, here, I am a beginner.  I finally let go of trying to stay in charge of my back bends (aided, again, by feeling very sick and not having enough mental energy to resist, lol) and you know what I discovered?  I am just fine.  My back hasn’t broken and after a few practices, I have found my balance again in those poses.  

It all reminds me of something that my friend Cara wrote about her first meeting with Sharath in 2011.  He had asked her if she was a beginner, and she said no.  He questioned her saying that she seemed very sure of that.  And she quickly said, “well, we are always beginners in some way…”  But, now, I am really starting to understand how true those words are—always a beginner :-)

Practicing at the Ashtanga Yoga "Mothership"...but, first, some background

This was originally supposed to be one blog post about what it has been like to practice at the main Ashtanga shala/school (the K. Pattabhi Jois Ashtanga Yoga Institute), but then I realized that not everyone reading my blog is familiar with the Ashtanga Yoga lineage or with how it is practiced.  So this first part is a brief introduction to all of those things.  For everyone who is already familiar with Ashtanga Yoga, feel free to skip this…or read it anyways and feel free to correct or clarify anything that I write ;-)

So, the guru of Ashtanga Yoga was Sri K. Pattabhi Jois (a.k.a “Guruji").  He learned the Ashtanga Yoga method from his guru Krishnamacharya (who was also the teacher of B.K.S. Iyengar and T.K.V. Desikachar, the heads of two other primary modern yoga systems; as such, Krishnamacharya is often referred to as the grandfather of the modern yoga movement).  Guruji first started teaching the Ashtanga Yoga method to westerners in the mid 1960's and early 1970's, but I believe that it wasn't until the 1990's that it really started to gain momentum, with many Westerners traveling to India to study directly with him.  There also just weren’t many peopl­­e teaching Ashtanga Yoga yet, so the only way to learn more of it was to travel to Mysore and study directly with Guruji.  As Guruji was the only guru of Ashtanga Yoga, he was also the only one who could officially authorize/certify anyone to teach it.  Of course one could do a regular yoga teacher training and then just teach the sequence, but Ashtanga Yoga is a method/tradition of yoga based on lineage—our teachers learned the method directly from Guruji (or from some of his first students), Guruji learned it from Krishnamacharya, Krishnamacharya from his teacher and so on and so forth.  So, when you receive an authorization/certification to teach it, there is more that you are receiving than just a piece of paper.  By receiving authorization/certification directly from the Jois family, you are receiving a blessing to teach this method, and are being entrusted with preserving the integrity of a lineage/tradition and with being a part of its continued growth.  Pattabhi Jois passed away in 2009 (I know, the KPJAYI website, says 2007, it's 2009) and left his grandson, Sharath, as the head of the lineage/director of the institute.  I say “head” and “director” because, as Sharath himself will tell you, he is not a guru; his grandfather was/is the guru of Ashtanga Yoga.  Sharath’s mother, Saraswati also teaches in Mysore.  She and Sharath used to assist Guruji when he was alive, and then she continued to assist Sharath until she started teaching her own classes at a second shala, just up the road from the main shala.  She used to go and assist Sharath after her classes were finished, but I think that both shalas have become so busy that she no longer assists Sharath (or at least she is not during my trip here--by the way, she is in her early 70s!  How cool is that?!).   

The system and practice of Ashtanga Yoga itself is quite unique.  It is a system of 6 series of specific sequences of asanas/poses (the 1st/Primary, 2nd/Intermediate, 3rd/Advanced A, 4th/Advanced B, 5th and 6th) with each asana being linked to another through a vinyasa, meaning each pose is connected to the next via the breath in a specific way.  Each pose also has a specific number of breaths that you take while in each posture.  So, with the focus being on keeping a smooth and steady breath, and with the movements all being linked together by the breath, when you practice the poses, the sequence becomes a kind of moving meditation.  Each sequence is also designed to achieve and work on different aspects of the body and mind.  Many other modern yoga classes follow this idea, of linking one pose to then next through the breath and of working around a theme or peak pose (shoulder opening, arm balances, back bending, etc), but in the Ashtanga system, the poses and sequence that you practice do not change (except for when you learn new poses or have to modify because of an injury or something else that affects your ability to do your regular practice). 

In the traditional method (called “Mysore style,” as this is how Guruji originally taught it in the city of Mysore in India) the student will learn the Ashtanga Yoga series from a teacher on a one-on-one basis.  Everyone starts with the Primary (1^st) series.  It does not matter if you have been practicing another style of yoga for 10 years or if you are capable of balancing in a handstand on one hand in the middle of the room—if you are new to the practice of Ashtanga Yoga, then you start with the Primary Series.  When the teacher sees that the student understands and remembers the postures and sequence, and feels that he/she is ready for more, then the teacher “gives” the student the next pose in the series (or two, depending on the student and what the poses are).  All of the students practice together during a certain time window (usually 6:00am-8:30am during the weekdays, a little later on Sundays) but each person is moving at their own pace and doing the practice up to whatever point/pose the teacher has taught them.  The teacher is not leading everyone through a sequence at the same time—except for when the class is specifically being taught as “led,” usually on Fridays.  During those led classes, the focus shifts from the students’ individual practices and from doing the postures to their fullest expression, to staying with and learning the correct counts and vinyasas of the series.  Ashtanga is traditionally taught in silence (no music here) so that you can really hear and focus on your breath.  Practicing in silence also gives you ample time to see exactly how your mind and emotions react to things and provides you with a unique opportunity to begin to control/change your reactions to things ;-).  The teacher is present in the room to, of course, teach new poses to students when it is time, but also to help students with whatever they are currently working on.  The teaching in Ashtanga is not usually done through a lot of talking, but more through physical adjustments (See pictures of practice in a Mysore room here).  I think this is largely because Guruji did not speak much English, so he literally moved students into the correct asana positions.  But this also helps keep the room relatively silent so that the students’ focus can be drawn inward.  Also, as I have learned, sometimes words are not really adequate for trying to describe how to move the body.

All of this is very different from the way that most yoga classes are held these days.  It is unique because the student quickly becomes a bit like their own teacher and, by doing the practice from memory and at their own pace, he/she becomes more responsible for their practice than they might in a regular yoga class.  It is also unique because it really builds a strong relationship between student and teacher, as the teacher is the one who decides when the student is ready to learn a new posture, and, with the practice being done in this specific way (a self-practice in a group setting), it gives the teacher a good opportunity to really see each student—to work with them individually (instead of having to try and keep the rest of the class going while trying to help a student with something) and to really see where each students’ strengths are and where they need to work more (or not work more in some cases).

Ok, I think that will give you a pretty good basic understanding so that you can better follow along when I talk about my practice here on the blog, if not, I'll describe it as I go ;-)

Registered

Here it is, I'm all official now:

It was an extremely busy time at the shala when I went to register.  On Sundays, the time for registration is between 3:30 and 4:30, but the Sunday conference (the time set aside for students to ask Sharath questions in a group setting about the practice) also started at 4:00pm.  I got in to see him about 5 minutes before 4:00 (the rest of the people had to wait until after conference).  It was really quick: he asked me who my teacher in Boston was and how long I planned on staying and then told me how much the shala fees were (47,100 rupees, between $750-$800).  I handed him my giant stack of rupees and he ran it through his cash machine and then complimented me on my "good counting," lol.  As he was filling out my card he asked how to pronounce my name and I told him it was pronounced "t/air-a" (not "t/ar-a") but that so many people pronounce it differently that it doesn't matter as long as it is close.  He also said, "Tara means 'star.'" (in Hindi).  I smiled and told him that I loved the stars, and, also, that in Irish, my name means earth (well, technically "rock," but I didn't feel like getting too specific).  He handed me my registration card and then I thanked him and went to sit outside in the practice room for the conference, with at least 200 other people (everyone who is currently practicing at the shala comes to conference on Sunday)!  It was literally standing room only.  There were many good things that he said (and some I have heard other people talk about in their blogs) but I have not really had time to reflect on them yet.

So, tomorrow will be my first day of practice in the shala...at 10:30am.  I normally start practice around 5:45/5:50 in the morning, so this is a much later start time for me--for those of you unfamiliar with how the practice times at the shala work, there are so many people that come here now that there are different time slots that people have to practice in.  When you first register (especially during the later months) you start in a later time slot.  Then, as more people leave, you get moved to an earlier start time (the earliest one is 4:30am).  So, it's 10:30am for now, but it will eventually change.  

I'm still feeling quite tired, so, as the girl I am staying with right now said, it will probably be good to start later right now.  Though I am feeling a little less like a zombie now, especially after having a chance to do some wandering around the neighborhood on my own (don't worry, I have a map and I'm not venturing too far right now).  I've always preferred to explore on my own because it gives me time to move at my own pace, explore the things that I catch my interest and gives me a chance to practice listening to my own intuition.  So, I'm starting to feel more acquainted with my surroundings here and getting a little more grounded.

And now, it is time to disconnect from the electronics and let the mind wind down before going to sleep.  This was one thing that Sharath mentioned during conference today, and that I have heard from many sources: have time before going to sleep where you do not watch TV, go on the Internet, talk on the phone, etc, because it gives your mind a break from all that stimulation and can help you have a more restful sleep.  So, on that note, I will talk to you all later :-)