From Anna: The Osmosis of Prana

My apologies for taking so long to post. I've been bustling along at a sprightly pace and it seems that there are never enough hours in the day. And yes, I do realize that if I feel like that every day, there is a glaringly obvious lesson to be learned.... But there's no time for lesson-learning either! I'll try to pencil in some time next month.

Being this busy has had an interesting effect on my practice. When I was blesssed with more time on my hands, my practice felt like a choice. Significant and defining - but a choice. Now that I am spread so thin, my practice has become non-negotiable. It isn't so much an elected use of time as it is sustenance. It may be a simple equation of less time on the mat equaling a more meaningful practice, but I think it runs more in line with your musings on drishti and softening.

One of my teachers used to say "Just. Soften. Somewhere." and I finally understand what he meant. Ultimately, the softening isn't gaze specific (or trapezius specific for that matter), but is a receptivity. An energetic shift. I'm sure you know that sweet, delicate zone of permeability, where you feel like you are opening to the osmosis of prana.... (which sounds way more cosmic and wacky than it actually is). That zone that you are lucky to slither into and reluctant to leave... Running around like a madwoman, I need it now more than ever. Even if I'm not in it, I can happily settle for the knowledge of that diffusive state existing. For whatever reason, it help me get through the day. Especially days like today when I taught 5 classes and don't know my left from my right.

Speaking of getting through the day, are you still meditating by morning and practicing in the afternoon?

From Liz: Enjoying the Sights.

Funny, this sounds a lot like "do your practice and all is coming." ;-)

And I agree. Sometimes I get really caught up in the outer aspect of a pose, commodifying the end product for my own consumption. But reading your post reminded me to be truly interested in the process; the pose is not a fixed object, but a forever unfolding and fractal experience. The series offers me direction, but only as a framework, the poses are not cages, but springboards for discovery. (Do I sound a bit like a yoga bumper sticker machine?) You know that moment when the pose sort of clicks? Like, "oh yeah, there's trikonasana." It's smug. And ultimately, it's a snake eating its own tail moment: noticing my alignment means that I'm away from the breath, dristhi, "dharana-ness" of the practice. This self-satisfaction is short-lived, because I'm not practicing for the sake of trikonasana (or say, something more virtuosic, to show off like a party trick, in place of lampshade wearing... not that I haven't been guilty of both.).

In a vinyasa sequence, such as the one that I follow, it's easy to just slide from one asana to the next, like each is only a step towards savasana. But I need to stop and see the sights along the way, or I'll get bored with this song and dance. It's like they say about raising kids, that you should "enjoy it now, it goes really fast." You get so caught up in day to day survival mode that you lose sight of the sweetness of each moment. The next thing you know, you have an ornery teenager who won't let you kiss him in public. Terrible Toddler got his head stuck in the wine rack today (don't ask) and I just laughed and thought, "guess this is one of the sights I should enjoy along the way."

In his dvds, Richard Freeman reminds us that "ultimately, this is a breathing exercise." It sounds like an off-hand remark, but it's kind of like footnoting a brief sermon with, you know... the entire Bible. Which reminds me of watching this clip.

Listening to the breath in the room made me cry. Does that make me a big cornball?