Feb 16- Short Shorts, Part 2: Friction, Feminism, or Respect?

I have to thank my friend in Barcelona who wrote to me regarding the "short shorts are a statement" post.  She remembers Sharath, about 5 years ago, asking students to “cover up in the shala. Respect please.”

Now, I don’t remember that, but I always assumed it.  This is India.  More and more these days, students are coming straight to Gokulam, the hamlet outside of Mysore where the school is now.  Taxi from the airport to your guest house, and bam you are at the shala registering for class.  There isn’t much of India happening yet.

You get a little etiquette card when you register that states students should cover up outside the shala, and not go about in their yoga clothes.  It seemed to me reading this, the yoga room itself has become pretty lax on the covering up.  Sort of a free-for-all western zone.  And in truth, we are all westerners in there.  I have never gotten the impression that Sharath is giving a care at all about the clothes. 

I always remember my mom asking me why we don’t all practice in Salwar Kameez in India like the Indian ladies do.  She was adamant.  I’ve seen it, it’s happening.  Lots of fabric there.  I do not have the patience. 

I came to India on 2, 6-month trips before I ever came to Mysore.  I was wearing sarees and Salwars (tunic and poofy pants with scarf).  I was uncomfortable with any show of my skin, and with good reason after much harrassment in my travels as a young lady. So I was, and am, a bit shocked by some of the skin showing around the town.  The first time I came into the shala, I was a little surprised by the number of shirtless ladies.  Whoa!  And yes, short shorts.  It actually wasn’t until the last trip that I rocked the shorts here.  I kind of look around, here in Gokulam, at how the local teens are dressing: skinny jeans and shorter kirtas.  No shorts, very rarely a strappy tank.  The yoga students look like a bunch of Bohemian thrift-store shoppers for the most part, as they try to figure out the covering up in the heat with Thai fisherman pants, flowing skirts, and scarves.  But yes, you see ladies without scarves, exposing strappy tanks and exciting bosoms.  Ladies in tights without long tops to cover the bum.  It’s not correct.  I always think of being a mom here with a pubescent son, the village overrun with westerners enacting their personal dramas without an awareness of the effect on the local environment.

Inside the shala, I have to say I’m still not sure, but Im leaning towards the free-zone.  I heard a rumor Sharath told a lady to go put a T-shirt on this year. Others routinely wear bra tops with no comment.    ?

Anyhow, I’d like to close with my friend’s words:  So I guess in Mysore it has nothing to do with friction feminism etc, is just awareness, sort of ahimsa in respect to Indian culture, no? 

I would say that’s a very good point.

Feb 14- Pain is Assumed

An illuminating moment for me in the office last week. 
Usha is the sweet young lady who runs the office here at KPJAYI.  She shows up at 6AM every day and puts her mat near to where I usually am.  I asked her how her practice is going.  She kind of grimaced/smiled and did the head bob.
“Some pain?” I asked.  “Me too.  So much pain, old lady.”
“I don’t speak too much about it,” she said.  “It is assumed.  Everyone is having.”

Oh, you mean it’s not just me and my pain?  Everyone else isn’t sailing through the practice?  Gee, they kind of look like they do (except for that heavy breathing over there). 

Hearing Usha’s reminder was kind of an Aha moment.  Ashtanga kind of hurts.  And me bitching about it doesn’t really help things.  Her attitude was admirable, Indian, and a reminder to me to step away from the talk.

My roommate asked me, as I was complaining about this year’s stiffness, when was the last time it did feel awesome.  I can remember a few days here and there, but consistently, no.
But, I noted, it’s because so much is coming up and out. Hala hala.  Not like that’s going to feel awesome. And if we didn’t work it out in daily batches now, wouldn’t we get sick later?

One Ayurvedic use for Yoga is to help us avoid disease.  Reduce stress.  Reduce stagnation.  Move the body during the 6-10AM Kapha hours.  Without some practice, we might expect to age less gracefully, and with more pain.

So perhaps medicinal doses of pain now, help us to avoid future suffering. 
I embark on a mission to say nothing, unless it’s positive, about the how’s-your-practice-going.  Please leave me a comment if you catch me complaining.

Fashion Chronicle of an Ashtangi

Since we are on the topic of clothing.  And I'm hoping to get a Lululemon sponsorship in Boston, please enjoy my

Fashion Chronicle of an Ashtangi
home from the first trip in India, a journey begins...


1999
I remember my first practice in Milford, NH with Robert Moses in 1999. Just home from India, where I had been riding bicycles to the village school in a saree, temporarily dropped out of college to follow my yoga-love path.  Pray tell, Kate, at this Mysore class in the basement of the Milford Town Hall--what did you wear???

A thong-style gray leotard stolen 5 years ago from Walmart (in my stealing phase for I which I still pay Karma), a pair of shorty board shorts from the thrift store that were a little too big after parasitic weight-loss.  The shorts hung low so you could I was indeed wearing a thong.  I don't think Robert gave a care.  It's NH after all, Live Free or Die is on the license plates.  I didn't shave my legs at the time, I just shaved my head after a battle with lice.  You get the picture.

2001
Fast forward to 6 months in Encinitas with Tim Miller.  Brought 1 outfit in my pack for the move to SoCal, both purchased on clearance at Marshall's.  Danskin capri tights, cotton, and an Asics purple top.  I still only wore natural fabrics as a rule.  By the end of 3 months it smelled bad, elastic wearing out so I do believe my ass crack was at times visible.  I went to TJ Max and bought a repeat outfit on clearance.  

2002
Moved to Maui, a new chapter begins.  I began the shorts phase here.  Anything goes on Maui and its humid.  Things mold and go rank quickly.  Sweaty clothes may or may not get a chance to dry on the line at Nancy's (no dryer, we're on solar). So I'll tell you the real reasons I began wearing less clothing:  
Laundry.  Mold.
A sports bra and shorter than short shorts, synthetic.  I got used to the feeling of air on skin, was proclaimed a nudist by my housemates.  I was really into being able to see my Uddiyana.  The sight of my protruding belly always a great reminder.  Others used to comment on how nice it was that I was "so comfortable with my belly". Well, I was until you said that.  Thanks.  Which resulted in me, live free or die, wearing even smaller clothing as a way to daily confront my vanity and supercede it, rise into the breath and the focus of the practice where I am Not This Body.  

2003
Everything I owned stolen from the car on the way back from the airport at Kahalui (can you say Karma?).  On my way to Mysore.  The merchants in Paia pooled together to make me a care package of clearance items: a bikini, a pair of booty-jeans, and a black Gaiam unitard.  
I showed up in Mysore with the unitard, hand me down navy capri tights and a rainbow striped sports bra.  Alternated the two for 3 months.  I was so glad to get rid of that unitard.

2004
Began modeling for my friends' company Inner Waves on Maui and got tons of free, colorful, organic cotton yoga clothes.  To this day, they are my favorite.

2008
Fast forward to Kate gets tired of hitchhiking, hand-me-downs, and being broke on the islands.  Move to Boston to teach where a student as well an old friend are working for Lululemon and style me out with a few outfits made of Luon.  In the cold, it is warmer than cotton.  The days of styled-out yoga fashions begin.  

I still practiced in short shorts, would never teach in them because that's too much of other people's sweat on my legs.  But Kino's got a great point.  I started wearing pants for the friction to practice the advanced series.  I didn't have the humility to fall off my sweaty arms, as she describes.  Now, I miss my shorts, which is why I pack them for friday primary days.
I actually can't even imagine practicing here, mad mad sweaty, with my leg slipping from behind my head and off my arms and just sweat sweat everywhere.  I think what Kino does defies the laws of physics.  I salute her and aspire to this level of core strength, totally worth all the shit-talking about my clothes if I end up able to balance without friction.

2013
So, what is Kate wearing in Mysore this year?  Hard Tail cotton pants (cotton pants in the tropics seem like a good idea and its dry enough to resolve the laundry issue) and yes, I'll admit they are hand-me-downs from a Yatri who outgrew her suitcase.  You can take the girl out of NH but...

In my middle-age, with continuous trips to India and digestive distress that comes and goes, I am no longer "comfortable with my belly".  I wear long tops that cover my muffin-tops and keep my belly warm and mosquito free.  Bites on the sides itch the worst!! Presently rocking Barry Silver's Sita Ram tank because it makes me smile (http://www.facebook.com/GBSKglobal) with a Jockey sports bra I buy a few of every year on Devarajas-Urs Road.  I haven’t found anything in the states that I like better!

There you have it friends, the How Why When and What of one Ashtangi’s fashion choices.  I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing it.

Feb 10- Short Shorts are a Statement

Well, of course I've read it: http://www.elephantjournal.com/2013/02/confessions-of-a-loved-hated-ashtangi-kino-macgregor/

I may be the last one here to read it, and still havent seen the video Mysore Magic.  I had no idea it was such a small, social media connected world over here in Mysore.  But I heard the Kino-talk, and I did have some feelings about it.  Actions speak louder than words, so I voiced my opinion by wearing my very loud, very short Lululemon shorts to lead primary on Friday.  Word.  Wish I had photo for you- eat your heart out.

Humor.  Relativity.  Open-mindedness.
All a part of the yoga, as represented by the Jois family.

For more on the evolution of yoga fashions, please see next post.  To stick to politics, avoid viewing.

Feb 8- Brahmamuhurtha, God’s Hour

“I do understand that in a hot country like India it makes sense to practice early in the morning - but the middle of the night? What's up with that?”

I have been wanting to ask this question in conference, and it came up on the last blog post (THANKS for asking).  I have my own idea of the answer, but I’ll ask in next conference (10 days time) and let you know Sharath’s take on it.

I like to translate Brahmamhurtha as “God’s Hour.”  I actually began learning about it more through my Ayurveda studies, as some spiritual therapies are likely to be administered in these early morning hours.  Wikipedia defines the measurement of time as 48 minutes before sunrise, but I’ve heard also 2 hours and 3 hours before sunset, and more specifically 3:30-5:30, and it does shift a bit in the winter.  Read:

“During the hour before dawn, saints and yogis establish themselves in their yogic pose, facing north, chant Omkar, and meditate on Brahma. Yogis believe that during this pre-dawn period, the aspect of Brahma is prevalent in the atmosphere. As a result, the entire atmosphere in is charged with powerful electro-magnetic-intelligent carriers generally called spiritual vibrations that travel in a north-south direction. Aspirants sit in the direction of the flow and meditate on their deity or Omkara Brahman. With this their expectation is that their minds will be spiritually linked in those powerful vibrations. The desired result is to obtain communion with the Yogis and saints spiritually; that their minds will freely float and get merged in that peaceful and serene atmosphere; and that they will receive blessings and guidance. Aspirants who follow this meditation method are said to quickly evolve in their Sadhana or practice.”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brahmamuhurtha

What are the benefits of practicing so early?  Well it’s true, its all true, the floating of mind, the ease of meditation, yes.  This would be an easy experiment for all to do.  You don’t have to take my word for it.

But Practical notes: 

The world is quiet before sunrise.  Because I am often up and listening in a variety of geographies before sunrise, I can attest to it: people in west and east, city and country, begin to stir only after the light begins to come.  As I am sitting there, undisturbed (listen to Mysore:  guy across the street I can hear snoring- across the street! His poor wife.  A few street dogs jogging along.  Bats in the trees.  Mosquito. Oh! Yoga student starting a scooter), opportunity awaits.  Aren’t we always putting the mind on tasks and duties of householding?  I tell you, if I hear footsteps in the morning, I feel a visceral response in my muscle-body.  I am hard wired to respond/react in some way to other people.  Had I not spent some years waking before sunrise, I would not have had the consistency to notice this. 

In Ayurveda, the majority of Dinacharya, or daily regimen, happens before leaving the house, or before the family is up.  I explain it like this: Once you go into the world, you are FAIR GAME. 

Brahmamuhurta is the time for God’s play.  The communication between mind-God-Universe is all happening.  The senses are quiet (not much to disturb) not hungry, half awake, nothing going on in this waking plane where we spend most of our time.  Making space for the B-Muhurta can only result in success.

Why then, am I wanking about the 2:30AM?  Well, I tell you I have spent many of my B-Muhurta hours in service as an Ashtanga teacher.  My students begin arriving at 5:45.  I get up at 4:15 to allow myself an hour of quiet, at home.  Because once I have left there, even if it’s to practice, I am...FAIR GAME.  I see this as a worthy sacrifice, a blessing in fact.  I get to devote my life to supporting people in finding God.

Gots to find my own God first, though, most days.  I have to say I find it jarring here to walk into a packed room at 4AM.  I’m used to my quiet time.  And that’s one reason I’m wanking.  The other is constipation (that’s another blog post altogther).

Sharath gets 4-5 hours sleep, he says.  Bedtime probably 7:30-8, which is what most of us do here.  Then we lie under the ceiling fan and listen to them make dinner next door.  For him, he’s got to find his God before 4:30AM when we all come in.  It is traditional to begin Hindu practices (not for the householder, necessarily, because there are some years when sleep is as important as worship on the hierarchy of family duties) around 2:30.  Gives you 3 hours before the world wakes for the chanting, bathing, ringing of bells, burning of things, and all that is necessary to unite Self and universe (the Union of Yoga). 

If its true that nothing is more important to me than my Sadhana, or spiritual works, there is nothing happening after 8PM that interests me anyhow.  Boob tube, bars, French fries, sex.  Yet another reason Im wanking: I went from 0-60 in one week here.  From 4:15 to 2:30 AM wake up.  That kind of thing takes a few years to ease into.  8PM desires do begin to drop away, but so suddenly, here I am, staunch as can be.  Grrr.

How goes the practice: I’m way stiffer that early.  My bowels are not empty (even if I don’t eat after lunch).  It’s harder to talk to God with all those people around.  I can’t wait to get home and be quiet and alone and take good poops.

BUT.  There is something happening, unbeknownst to us in that room.  We ARE being “charged with powerful electro-magnetic-intelligent carriers” as we practice together with all the hubbub at 4AM.  This is the kind of thing I don’t notice until I get home.  Here, I’m just in it.  Im struggling, I’m stiff, I’m distracted, I’m disappointed in myself.  And I do believe one has natural defenses to guard against too much Shakti too fast.  Stiffness is one, mental stiffness included.  My bad attitude about the mornings I do hope will give way to the willingness, the openness, the beauty of the B-Mahurta.

And, back in Boston on the fire escape in the AM, I will long for it again.  In hindsight, feeling the sparkle of that room, the quality of being as we wake the energies together through movement.   I will find it in the little room where my students and I are working together, and as always, the only place I feel at home in the USA is in the yoga room.

Feb 7. Effort Without Tension

It comes up all the time, the question about balancing Santosha (contentment) with effort.  Came up at conference last week-end.  I do believe it’s at the crux of human evolution, yes?  How do we aspire for change (wait a minute: change is inevitable, do we need to aspire?) while being happy with things as they are.

I am feeling that it serves me best this year, and the last few years, to take it easy.  But the funny thing about this practice, is that you get hurt if you don’t stay awake and working throughout.  It’s such a trip, and just like the effort of making things happen in life, slowly slowly, with acceptance of what is, and yet some goal is there.  There’s got to be some dangling carrot.

The effort lies in making the space:  the consistency of waking up and taking practice most days, getting to bed early enough so I have the energy for it, eating clean foods so that I am light enough for it.  But once I get to the practice, I really can’t try so hard.  If I push in the wrong way, the way that is sourced from some sense of need, it just hurts.  It’s got to FEEL GOOD.  That’s what I’m saying.  I am no longer in a place where I would desire to spend my mornings doing something that isn’t enjoyable. 

Here I am on a 2-month mission to Mysore.  It’s easy to get all worked up.  After all these years, and so many trips, I have to say, I’ve seen some asana come and go.  My shoulders are super stiff this year.  I think its from teaching, but could it also be from…heartache?  At this point, it is just never about the physical bod.  Things have gone too deep now. The layers or emotion and mental patterning are inescapable now.

What I see is this:

If I come at the practice like something’s got to happen today—it’s no fun.  It’s all angst.  If I come at the practice like an explorer, with a true sense of curiosity, it’s light, fun, and interesting.  If I go into that room at that ridiculous hour, 4 hours of sleep, constipated, mosquito bitten, people’s arms and legs on all sides, Sharath’s sharp eye on the room, maintaining a willingness to meet whatever happens with acceptance, well I’m doing pretty darn good if I can keep that up for 2 months time.  I guess it was just too easy for me to be happy at 7AM so we had to up the game this year.  And won’t I be enlightened if I can come back Boston and keep up the willingness, the gratitude, the Sound-of-Music style Positivity?

So perhaps the goal of this yoga, then, is to change the mind not the body, eh?  I think back to meeting Ragunath Swami in Mumbai.  He just beams.  He just sits there and beams, while the organization he heads changes the world.  

Feb 5, 2:30AM Wake-Up Call

The neighbors begin making dinner around 8:00.  This can involve the usual domestic bickering in Kannada.  The kitchen window is about 6 feet from my bedroom window.  We are both on the second floor (which, in India, is actually the first floor, because the first floor is the ground floor. And I can never get it straight.)  Smoke comes billowing out, sizzling of curry leaf and coconut oil, the grind of the mixie.  A “mixie” you should know is the world’s greatest blender cum food processor.  This integral kitchen appliance comes with 3 stainless steel carafes: dry grinder, wet grinder, and chutney maker.  I have always wanted to bring one home, but this would involve a convertor for the wall plug and is likely to break itself, or forever alter the electrical health of my kitchen circuit. 

            The goings-on of my neighbor’s late dinner is all good, but for the fact that I go for Lights Out at 7:30PM.  No talking after 6, no food after 3.  Am I a nun?  No, just a yoga student at “first batch.”  First batch, for about maybe 75 of us, means be at the yoga shala by 4AM.

            I have been able to avoid this honor for the past 2 years through an elaborate arranging of travel schedule to arrive at the time of year when the class is full and newcomers are getting later start times. This year, on my first day of practice, I happened to be in a spot next to Sharath’s chair.  He leaned over, and in a conspiratorial tone said” Next week you come 4:30. Some students are leaving.” 

            Rather than my usual face-falling response, I was positive and even thankful.  That was one of my goals this year, to be happy for whatever ridiculous time I have to wake up.  Damn that spot next to the chair.

            But here I am on week 3, and the middle of the night practice is working me over in ways I may not have expected. Other than the obvious digestive disturbances, lack of snacks and dinners, and sleep, there is something else going on altogether.  I am feeling my zest for life diminishing.  As intent as I am on remaining positive, this is hard to do when tired.  It seems no amount of napping makes up for the sleep of the night.  It seems no amount of prayer makes up for the simple, blessed feeling of being well rested.

            So I reflect on the opportunities we all have in our lives at home to get enough rest, and live sane lives.  Sharath spoke at conference this week-end about his passion for the practice.  All these people come here wanting to learn the yoga and he is teaching from 4:30AM until 11ish.  He wakes at 1 to do his own asana before teaching.  This, he says, is something he doesn’t even think about.  It is like eating or brushing the teeth.  I totally get that.  I get up at 4 at home to get the practice in before teaching, and that used to seem like quite the sacrifice.  If there is anything I take from this winter’s trip to Mysore, it’s how lucky I am for that extra 1.5hrs of rest.  And the quiet which I can sometimes enjoy at 8PM in the city of Boston (its not quiet, but compared to here…). 

            It does make me think about the things we let slide in life when we get tired.  I think for the lay person, it is often the yoga practice. 

It makes me think of the vices we reach for when we are sliding.  Here, its food.  Smoking would result in a hacking cough, drinking in diarrhea.  When I’m tired, I think food will give me energy, but because waking in the night has disturbed my body’s natural appetites and rhythms, I don’t digest well and food makes me tired.  I find myself on Ayurvedic herbs, trying to retain a disciplined eating routine, and feeling like I have met my match this year in Mysore.  “The practice,” as usual for me, is not the asana but everything that is required to support the fun part, the asana.

I am looking forward to looking back on this 2 months and reflecting on what one can learn by practicing yoga in the middle of the night.