From Liz: Meditating Myself Into the Ground.

Sorry for the silence. I've gone soft at the center for a while. Meaning: I've gone off the rails with practice, with discipline, with keeping my shit generally together--the center cannot hold. I'm well, overall. I'm exercising, so am physically strong enough. And I'm happy with the direction that my family is going. Onward and upward, etc. But that happiness has taken the urgency out of practice and mediation, so I've gotten sloppy. I need to start getting up early again. I need to reconnect with that sense of radicalism, because I'm feeling quite average. (I have good friends who have three daughters. The middle child coined the term "middlest" to describe herself. The other girls had "oldest" and "youngest" cornered, so she wanted something as extreme, a word that put her as much at the periphery as the other two. It's a good word, and is how I have been feeling.) Right now, I'm just your average yogini, with my middlest practice. I've been doing a lot of yin yoga, acting like I'm doing myself the service of stillness. Really, I'm just too lackadaisical to focus on flow, to keep light in my extremities and float through an ashtanga practice.

I guess the creative spark is lacking. At least, it was, until I chanced upon this bit of psycho-spiritual gold. In a nutshell, it suggest the when you meditate, you just think of it as the act of sitting and just being yourself. Allow yourself to bubbled up like a hidden spring. Don't try to achieve anything. The soft center seems to firm up when you tap in that way. It makes me feel a little wide-eyed and vibrant. Sitting here, with my breath, just being me. There is something revolutionary in not striving. Incidentally, in all of this, it does occur to me how privileged I am to have the time/space to undertake this radical sitting.

I'm glad that your scalene is teaching you some lessons. Apparently my right knee has decided to be my guru for a while. Lesson: "chill out with all of the lunges, you vain silly thing." My right knee doesn't know about skinny jeans.

From Anna: Party Girl

I love your image of the self MRI. It is befitting to the idea of the body in layers. Years ago, in one of my very first classes, the teacher said that yoga is a process of shedding, not of adding. That our work is to peel away each sheath to reveal what is already there. At the time, it made about as much sense to me as 'soften your floating ribs' but over time, both concepts have started to fall into place.

Speaking of things that have changed, I am right there next to you on the meditation thing. I used to dread that moment in class when the teacher would say "if you'd prefer, you can remain here in meditation or you can make your way into savasana." I couldn't skidaddle out of that seated position fast enough and would wonder about the people who stayed. Were they just trying to look dedicated or was it possible that they enjoyed this seated repose? Did their feet fall asleep too? When the teacher gave one of those "if you have a tendency to fidget, go back to your breath" speeches, was it directed at me alone? I sort of resigned myself to being someone who 'just wasn't cut out for meditation.'

But at some point along the way, once I had pretty much given up on the possibility altogether, I woke up and had become one of those people. Last night I took class and when given the choice, I stayed seated, gladly and willingly. I only wished that it lasted longer. Occasionally I feel torn between the physical release of savasana and the more delicate renewal of some time spent quietly seated. But it's an excellent problem to have. Two parties I'd love to attend: same night, same time.

Which reminds me, I am really enjoying your recommendation of theses guided meditations. Varied, accessible, and rather lovely on a whole. Seems that you're full of good ideas lately. Guided meditations, self MRI's, and now wardrobe purging. One of these days I'll work up enough inspiration to follow suit... (pun shamelessly intended).

I still have two more classes to teach tonight, but I'd do anything to throw my legs up the wall and call it a day.... now THAT is my idea of a party.

From Liz: Junk in the Trunk (the Body in 3D)

This will sound super stoner of me, but dude, I just realized that my body is three dimensional. I don't know why I've been living in 2D for so long. I feel like I've been practicing and moving my body as if it were flat. Suddenly, something clicked (maybe this is the mediation practice at work) and I realized that to distribute my breath and awareness fully, I have to breath into my back body, down to the depths of the junk in my trunk. I am embracing the lushness of my entire annamaya kosha. It's like having x-ray vision, the ability to full body scan (self MRI) and hold the whole in awareness. It is tripping me out...

And yes, I'm meditating in the mornings. It is not necessarily getting easier, but more fluid. I used to peep my eyes open after what seemed like an eternity, only to find that 3 minutes had elapsed. Now it's closer to 15 minutes. And where I used to drag my heels and resist this quiet "sitting," I now look forward to it. It's work, but also refuge. I'm curious to see what comes up in those few minutes. Why has it taken me so long to embrace this? And why was Ashtanga the catalyst that brought me here?

I'm off to do a little wardrobe purging. Embracing my body has led me to re-evaluate the contents of my closet. I'm ditching anything that doesn't do justice to my self-loving, emancipated booty.

From Liz: Soft Focus.

The Yoga Bear work is going well enough. I'm in charge of soliciting donations from studios in NYC and environs. I send a friendly little note, asking for class pass or membership. Some studios jump right on board, others just blithely ignore me. You win some, you lose some. I'm a little surprised by those that just look the other way, like I'm some panhandler on the subway. I'm not asking for much, and it would actually be to the studio's benefit to get more people in their doors--a good way to build up some good will in the community. But hey, I guess this is NY and people are Very Busy and Important, right? I just have to ease up around my expectations.

This brings me around to my Work of the Week: softening. I've discovered that I'm a gripper. Physically and emotionally. Gil Fronsdal has a series of talks on concentration. And at one point, he says "Hard or willfully concentrating is a losing battle. But to develop samadhi there has to be a softness and gentleness towards oneself... The mind is not a thing, a substance, it's an activity." He speaks of concentration as a living, fluctuating state, a "dynamic stillness" that enables higher states of meditation, etc. I've also heard dristhe spoken of as a resting point for the eyes, rather than a spot to drill your death ray stare into. During practice, I sometimes find myself boring my eyes into a place of focus. Yet when I soften my eyes a touch, I see so much more. I breathe easier. It's a state of rest, safety, peace. So rather than try to harden around concentration, or stiffen my will to the sticking point, I'm working on settling in, like I would in Savasana: aware, receptive, but at ease. This stuff is work, experienced meditators are hardcore. I feel like I did when I tried Bakasana for the first time: "you want me to what now?"

And it terms of asana: Jump backs are happening more readily. I've just given over to committing to the moment. There has been some mechanical tweaking, but mostly it gets down to just turning off of the brain chatter and surrendering to the action (ties nicely to Work of the Week, right?).

I'm off.
How is teaching this Spring?

From Anna: The Early Edition

I'm thrilled to have a recommendation for some guided meditation practices! I can't wait to look into them. And your assessment of early-rising really pins the tail(bone) on the donkey. Long before I had a yoga practice, I was struck by how intensely I would notice my surroundings when I was up before the sun. This is evident whether you are meditating, drinking coffee, or even heading to the airport. Is it because our bodies are rested and our minds fresh? Is it the darkness and the quiet that heightens our senses? Our culture is almost oppressively over-stimulating and as the day unfolds, we must become desensitized to all of the sounds, smells, sensations, right?... It's probably a combination of these things and others. What I do know is that in those wee hours, the act of observing is uncomplicated and effortless. Meditation is a natural extension of those conditions.

I did come back from my trip feeling inspired, refreshed, and generally zippy. With all of the teaching I've been doing, I had forgotten what a treat it is to assist. (Particularly when it is someone for whom you hold a deep respect). Looking at bodies without being responsible for the entire class is an excellent way to sharpen your eye. I also learned some fun new adjustments and it will be a good test of my verbal/written communication to have to describe them instead of just showing you. I tried to be my spongiest self and am still processing some of what soaked up, but I'll get back to this another time soon.

Reading over your post, I just realized that we use 'TT' to reference both 'terrible toddler' and 'teacher training'.... Sort of amusing to say the least...

How goes your work with Yoga Bear?

From Liz: The Slow Burn of Energetic Indigestion.

Here's what's up: I guess I have a case of energetic indigestion. I bow forward (because this practice is half an act of supplication), knit my rhomboids together, and spread my lats like flightless wings. The work in the shoulders and back are chipping off the calcifications in my upper thoracic, and yeah, maybe it is a chakra opening, or finessing. I'm just not used to the rush of verve I get from this complete, unrelenting sequence of poses. You know when you have a great practice, and somehow, you're a cranky beotch for the rest of the day? That's happened a couple of times recently. Like I get so driven into myself and caught up in sorting through the energetic rubble, that I can't handle consciousness for the rest of the day. It's inconvenient when you still have to be a mom, wife and friend, and generally human and social.

In other news, I'm tinkering with my schedule. Getting up early to practice has been a revelation. Just knowing that I can do it is huge. I'm not so hopeless that I can't get on the mat and work at it for an hour or so. And I love the quiet dark time to myself, it's a gentle way to ease into the day. But I make bigger discoveries in my body when I practice later. It's simple enough: I'm more open, more aware, more precise (so less injury-prone) and ultimately a little braver. So I'm playing with doing a morning meditation, instead. And practicing during TT's nap. I think that the really transformative thing about the early-rising is not the yoga, but the simple act of being awake during that prana-rich time of day. Meditation is a great way to bathe in it. And the perfect way to start my day feeling (illusory as it may be) that I am in control, that I am making choices. I'm hoping that this will also soothe and normalize the burn from the ashtanga process. I've been using guided meditations from these people. Definitely recommend.

How was your yoga adventure? Any fresh thoughts from assisting?