But I Only Have Four Limbs

Join Our Ashtanga Community

2011-03-22T05:56:00.000-07:00

A slightly different post today but one with which those who practice regularly will sympathize.

I've been practicing Mysore-style ashtanga at the YogaWorks on the Upper West Side of NYC for nearly 3 years now (2 years practicing 4x/wk or more). And, as evidenced by this blog, it has changed my life. I am more fit and focused, my head is clearer, and I have no doubt that the recent, sudden advances in my playwriting career are an indirect result of daily practice and all of it's benefits.

Recently, YogaWorks threatened to cancel our Tuesday and Thursday classes, which -- as any ashtangi knows -- doesn't really make sense. Sure, when you start out, ashtanga 2 or 3 days a week is plenty. But as you get deeper into the practice, the greatest benefits come from practicing at least 4x/wk. Naturally, there was an outcry from the current students and now after several plans and proposals the survival of our ashtanga community boils down to this:

Get more students.

Not a lot more. Not even people who come every day. Just a few more people who want to try ashtanga out and who would start by coming to class 2 or 3 days a week.

And so I'm asking all of you to come join my ashtanga class! As someone who has traveled all over the U.S. and studied with teachers in Miami, Chicago, Denver, Detroit, and Louisville, I can absolutely assure you that my teacher at YogaWorks, Evan Perry, is one of the best. Despite adjustments that are targeted and deep, he enters and exits them in a way that feels natural and comforting. He has a very detailed understanding of anatomy, has helped me work through many weaknesses and (when I first started) injuries, and will always answer any questions you have. And to top it off he's a really nice guy.

Plus, for those who think more practically, relative to other ashtanga programs throughout NYC, membership at YogaWorks is fairly inexpensive (about 60% what you would pay to practice Mysore-style elsewhere).

All right. There's my spiel. Please feel free to ask me questions about the class or my teacher, whether you practice ashtanga or have never even heard of it. I'm certain that if you come practice with us for a couple of weeks you'll experience immediate benefits. Whether it ends up being a practice suited to you in the long term, obviously I can't say. But you'll never know until you try, right?

Floating is So Easy That It's Hard

2011-02-23T05:36:00.000-08:00

Something must have been truly inspiring for me to revive this old chestnut, huh?

Out of nowhere, I started floating back to catvari in Surya Namaskara B this morning. I flattened my hands to the ground, lifted a bit in Uddiyana, and sent my feet back. The first time it happened I didn't really notice. The second, I was all, "Wait... what just happened?" Then during the third, fourth, and fifth I was sort of blissed out.

What's odd is that last fall I started TRYING to float back. I had been practicing for 2.25 years, and I felt that I shouldn't be jumping anymore (thanks, ego... stupid ego). So I kept working on mastering the float. Of course, I failed miserably at it and eventually relaxed back into my practice. Now that I've actually done it, I understand why it was that I failed.

Floating is (as it sounds, duh) about ease and not effort. I was really open this morning, so all it took was a solid handprint and a little lift. And without the jump back in my Surya Namaskara the rest of my practice was so much more peaceful. I think that, even though the jump helps me to understand the lift, there's something about the gearing up for it and the landing that punctuates my practice -- amps up the excitement or jars me out of the meditative aspects of vinyasa. I'm curious to see what degree of additional peace can be cultivated when my body figures out how to float forward.

Who knows whether I'll be able to even do it tomorrow? If I am, though, I'm going to try and float forward, too. I mean... uh, I'm going to ease into floating forward. Or, uh... I'll try to. No. Uh... I'll just do whatever happens.

Here's a video of some dude who floats with an amazingly light touch (I didn't look like that!), complete with Sanskrit counts:

Garbha Pindasana through Upavishta Konasana

2010-06-30T06:27:00.000-07:00

The end of the Primary Series is coming on fast...

It's odd because it took six months or more for me to get past Marichyasana D and then about four more to get past Kurmasana, but now E is throwing asanas at me like banks threw toxic mortgages at the feds in '09. About a month ago he taught me Garbha Pindasana and Kukkutasana, and then just this morning I got Baddha Konasana and Upavistha Konasana.

It definitely feels like (my continuing nemesis) Kurmasana is the "peak" of the Primary Series, because following that and Garbha Pindasana, everything else I'm doing feels like a come down in a way. In a good way. Getting into Urdhva Dhanurasana is WAY EASIER when I'm not doing it straight out of Supta Kurmasana or Kukkutasana.

Anyway, I wonder if I'll be practicing full Primary by the end of the year. That would be neat, although I think all of those engage your bandhas and balance on your Sitz bones asanas will probably hold me up. My balance is for $#!%.

Baby Got (Bad) Back

2010-04-07T09:54:00.000-07:00

I had a spasm on Sunday. It's actually been quite a long time since I've had one (about 1.5 years). I was all freaked out. Despite the fact that my doctor once said to me, "You have to remember, once you've injured your back, you're always the guy with the bad back. Be careful!" I somehow thought it would never happen to me again. Despite the fact that the last time this happened to me, I was flat on my back for two weeks and in pain for an entire month, I ignored his advice.

I suppose I thought that because of my ashtanga practice (and my increased core strength and flexibility and so on and so on), I was no longer the guy with the bad back. So I hauled a 30 lb. bag of laundry down to the laundry room, plopped it in front of a machine, bent down (not squatting, or course) to start loading up the machine and...

CRUNCH! CRACK! SPASMMMMM!!!

It really sucked. I ended up laying down Sunday and Monday, but then by Tuesday... I was fine. No, really. I skipped ashtanga all three days, but I went back this morning. I'm totally still stiff, but I don't have any pain, and I did entirely reasonable versions of every asana. The only modifications E gave me were ones that helped to expand my lower back; I didn't have to do any "easier" variations. Sure, I didn't go as deep; sure, I took my time and added 20 minutes to my usual 1 hour, 20 minute practice; sure, I'll be working out the kinks for the next week or more.

But I'm not flat on my back, and I'm not in pain. It's got to be the practice, right? That core strength and daily opening must be helping to minimize my recovery time. So maybe I'm still the guy with the bad back, but I'm now the guy with the bad back who does ashtanga.

And for those who'd like to know, E walked me through Janu Sirsasana C to make it even more beneficial for my lower back (above is a clip of someone doing Janu Sirsasana A, B, and C). The gist is to be sure your hips are square, your Sitz bones are grounded, and that everything in the front of your body moves inward ("implodes" was the word he used). In other words, the thigh of your extended leg should push in against the twisted foot of your bent leg and vice versa. Mula and Uddiyana Bandha should be engaged. That way as you fold forward, your back spreads out. He had me do ten breaths on both sides instead of the usual five, and it felt awesome.

A Pain in the Ass

2010-03-07T15:30:00.000-08:00

That's what I have.

Somewhere around my left outer hip, I have this thing that is constantly opening and contracting, which I've been struggling with for nearly a month now. For a week or so, it was super painful just sitting because my Sitz bone would stab into it. I know it's the Kurmasana/Supta Kurmasana adventure that started it all, and I'm trying to be at peace with that pose. But I can't help it: I hate Kurmasana.

It freaks me out a little. And that stiffens me up and that makes it harder to do and that freaks me out more... I'm stuck in an endless loop of, "Why am I doing this?"

The thing is, I know that this will pass. As I come to relax in the posture, as I open up, my fear of the posture (and the pain in my ass) will go away. I mean, I do Mari D everyday now, and my feelings toward that pose have gone from amazed to hateful to frustrated to excited to ecstatic to... well, now I don't think about it as all that positive or negative at all.

Which is where this is going isn't it? To that place where you experience your emotions (and body and everything else) but you don't attach to them.

Still, right now it's hard to believe that Kurmasana will ever be that to me.

Bhujapidasana through Supta Kurmasana

2010-01-20T05:50:00.000-08:00

Holy f*ck.

I have gotten to the point where I can bind independently in Marichyasana D about 3 or 4 times a week. It usually takes about 3 or 4 tries on the first side, but I am actually able to do my twisty, knotted version of the asana. It's starting to feel all right, too.

Today, seeing me do it on my own for the second time this week, E decided I was ready to move ahead. Great! I thought. I'm making progress. And so, I finish up my 5 Navasanas and then there it is...

Bhujapidasana.

Look, I knew it was next and everything. I take a led class about once a month to challenge myself. But when I get to the second half of the primary series, I just kind of muddle through, modify freely, don't judge myself, and do whatever I can. Today though he taught me how to enter the pose properly, and he taught me the transition to Bakasana and then out to my vinyasa. E pulled my legs straight and twisted them till the knees faced upward in Kurmasana and insisted that I lengthen my spine to put my chin on the ground, not my forehead. He even pulled my hands together in Supta Kurmasana, although he left my feet with just the toes touching.

Oh... my... god. I already feel some soreness setting in. Doing those poses properly -- even modified -- is probably the most intense thing I've done so far. Even those first times in Marichyasana C and D don't compare. As difficult as those were for me (and as Mari D still is), I feel like I know where to focus. For Mari C, if I just lengthen and twist, I'm golden. For Mari D, it's about the lean forward and the exhale as I really push my shoulder forward.

With these new poses, though, there's so much going on that I can't even begin to breakdown my focus. I know it will come with time, but I really felt like a beginner today.

Non-Attach THIS!

2009-11-25T09:05:00.000-08:00

One of the other ashtangis -- one that I feel is extremely accomplished and who has a beautiful practice -- said to me after class today, "Your practice has been making amazing progress!" Then as I stuttered thank you, he complimented my increased flexibility, ease, and flow.

I've never been so great at receiving compliments, so after thanking him I just kind of deflected and talked about working towards the Mari D bind. But on top of my own social awkwardness, I'm struck by how good it made me feel to be complimented by him. It's difficult to accept words of encouragement as just that and not to attach to them in a non-yogic way.

Hi Again

2009-11-05T08:49:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I decided to start a whole new blog during one of the busiest periods of my entire life, especially since I wasn't even posting regularly on my main blog.

Anyway -- I'm back!

I still can't do Marichyasana D. The horrible truth it's making me face about myself is also something I can't do yet -- by which I mean it's a challenge I haven't figured out how to overcome in life. Basically, when getting the bind on my own was absolutely impossible, I kind of didn't care. I just thought it was fun that E could put my body into that position at all. It was all, "Whoa! Oh, my go...! Wha...?!?!"

Now, though, I'm pretty damn close. I can wrap my arm, but not with enough openness in my shoulders that my forearm gets far enough around my knee that I can clasp fingers. Seriously, I am one inch away from getting my shoulder into a good position and wrapping my arm sufficiently.

AND NOW I'M FRUSTRATED AS HELL!

When it was hopeless, it didn't matter to me. But now that I'm so close, I've turned into this growling, tense, angry beast. I get nearly there and then I start pushing and pulling and grunting -- which I know probably just tightens me up -- but I can't let go. I need to learn to let go.

I find that this is true in everything I do in life. I can dabble or play around in all kinds of things, but when it approaches some tier related to accomplishment or whatnot my instinct is to just push through or give up. I never just steadily proceed and allow the breakthrough to happen whenever it will happen.

The only place this isn't really true is writing. But I feel like that's because you don't have to be linear about writing a play. You want to skip to the end? Then skip to the end. Ta-da! Now fill in the part you skipped.

Unfortunately, there's no way to do that with yoga. At least, not one I can think of.

Day After Day

2009-08-04T20:04:00.000-07:00

I've noticed that I have a pattern in how well my practice goes each week.

Day 1: Whether I took one day off or two, there are still cobwebs and tightness. Almost makes me want to practice daily, but that would be too exhausting. Plus, there's something pleasurable about taking the time to start over again.

Day 2 (which is what today was, because I didn't practice Sunday): I feel back to where I left off last week, but it takes effort.

Day 3: This is always a crap practice day for me. I don't know why. My focus is usually off, and I'm suddenly sore in weird places -- different places each week. If it happens this way tomorrow, I'll let you know where. I imagine it's because new places open up each week, which I guess is good, but it's still kind of annoying.

Day 4: On this day, I usually fly. It's pretty much always my best practice day.

Day 5: I'm tired. That's all that matters. Tired. If I'm smart and take it slow, it's a good day. If I'm impatient and just try to get it done, it's a bad day. Whichever it is doesn't change the fact that I'm tired.

Day 6: I've only done six days once (last week). I was so psyched that I made it a whole week that it sort of over-rode any other feelings.

As for today, specifically, I was able to do all 5 Navasanas without flopping around (I usually lose form a bit for 4 and definitely for 5)! However, I couldn't lift up between 4 and 5. I mean, I did, but it was a totally wimpy, short breath, and just a quick up-down-oh-my-god-get-me-through-this-because-I'm-DONE! kind of lift up. Maybe tomorrow I'll do all 5 AND lift up good and proper.

Escape from Marichyasana D

2009-08-03T09:39:00.000-07:00

I started binding in Marichyasana D last week, but I can only do it with help from E, my teacher. I didn't practice Sunday because I was away on a little beach vacation, so I was a little stiff this morning. I got into position while he was spotting someone else and was able to twist but not bind.

As I'm coming out of the modified asana, I see E walking to my mat with this look on his face.

Me: You don't have to look so threatening.
E: That's not threatening. That's, "There is no escape." Okay... maybe it's a little threatening.

Then he made me do it again.

The weirdest thing about the Marichyasana D spot is that it's like, "Hey! Let's get into make out position!" You grab my arm, and I'll grab your elbow. You put one leg around my hip and the other over my leg. Then reach around and hold my hand until I can clasp my own...

Doesn't it sound like there should be some smooching somewhere in there?

But there isn't. And it's weird because it's both physical and intimate without being erotic at all. Or, at least, it's not erotic to me, and E is even a looker. I guess -- since I've never really played any sports -- that I'm not usually in a position like that (physical, intimate, NOT erotic). Usually, it's all three or none of the above. But maybe this points toward a good thing: that my focus during my practice is well-placed.