Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Be careful what you wish for

I first started yoga in 1991 taught by a frizzy haired woman in her 50s at a Catholic girls' school in Adelaide.  She wore a leotard and leggings and didn't bat an eyelid as she showed us her moves that had us groaning and giggling until we relaxed under her spell in meditation at the end. Most of us just fell asleep.  But by the end of term, some thing had kicked in and the value of staying awake with your eyes closed while lying on the floor took on a whole new meaning. This lady was showing us things we didn't have words for. It dawned on us her real power was in making hard things look easy and that youth was no pretence for ability.

I would float home on the bus on a Friday night seeing the world differently. It was the best preparation year 12 exams. I thought, 'wow, I never want to stop doing this yoga thing..."

Years later a fabulous woman I worked for in the Northern Territory who was fond of truisms, said to me, "be careful what you wish for" making me think hard about where I put my attention and wishful thinking.



Playfully imagining with girlfriends, that rather than having kids and a husband I would probably be travelling instead, having adventures in exotic countries like India... so it is, that here I am embarking on a one month stay in Mysore, southern India to deepen my practise in ashtanga yoga. Mysore is the city home where  ashtanga yoga - a system of linking breath to movement through vinyasa, was developed and taught by Sri Pattabi Jois.  Yoga 'mysore style' is now taught by his daughter Saraswarti and grandson Sharath, to hoards of western yoginis and yogis like me and Indians too.

I fondly refer to the trip as Stretch, Eat, Sleep as I don't expect to be doing much more than this on the surface. Although the title of this blog says it all - for me yoga is about being 'at home' in myself despite the mud and gunk that comes up through life, and still enjoy the beauty of life, of the flower, not having to move to avoid and deflect things. Being still and allowing flowering and death. It's harder than it looks.

I'm a writer and work in the tourism industry in Australia, on tourism product and destination development and creating authentic cultural experiences for visitors to engage with in Australian nature, indigenous culture and regional areas. The blog format is for me to keep my observations real, hopefully not too self indulgent, share the things I was looking for when planning my trip but couldn't find easily - like where to stay, what to take? There'll be some reflection and insight into my experiences with local culture and my own yoga practise but I promise I won't be analysing my development here, it's more a travel blog for friends and family and other people who maybe considering the trip to Mysore to practise yoga. This blog not for yoga geeks, with beautiful pictures of myself looking awesome - lol! Well maybe Kino's body with my head photoshopped on top. Have ya seen me sweating in class? Jeez, that's not going online.  

So, ashtanga is known for 'vinyasa', linking moment with steady deep breathing. Each movement in every posture (asana) is linked to breath to generate heat from deep in the belly, thinning the blood and improving circulation to muscles. My left brain checks out about half way through class, intellect is not required through movement, just will power, courage and steadiness so that by the end, I'm a sweaty mess, unable to talk, exhausted, but paradoxically feeling intensely alive through every cell in my body. 

Since finding a teacher who persistently insists on taking us to a place of discomfort to experience our own physical heat in practise and the heat of 10 other students squished in a tiny room, I'm learning heat is the best tool for melting and remoulding self, transforming our brains, breath and bodies simultaneously. That by using heat in this way, somehow cools the temperature in daily life, on the road with bad drivers, with family issues, at work.

Anyway, be careful what you wish for. That's the message. Because it may just come true. After weeks of waiting post applying to get into the shala  (this is quite a process in itself) and then getting my email confirmation - the joy was a rush - YES! I'm in! I've been accepted! So now I'm getting ready for a month studying ashtanga yoga in hot sweaty monsoonal southern India, no air-conditioning, no local beach, no friends. 

Oh my god. What have I done?