Over the last couple of weeks I've gone about deleting my fb timeline. Fb doesn't like this it seems, they don't make it easy and you have to go back through the years deleting every photo, every post, every tag, one by one. I think it's this, this making it so difficult to do, that inspired me to keep at it.
Why make it so difficult, why do you want to keep hold of all those old posts, all that information about me, hmmmm we can guess perhaps.
And so it went on, month by month, year by year, a time machine of sorts.
I came across photos of kidney stones and a little further back a photo of my drenched in sweat yoga towel, hindsight is truly 20/20. And before that another kidney stones photo and a little before that photo after photo of green smoothies and posts on my excitement at discovering them. Turns out raw spinach ( present in most of those green smoothies I was knocking back twice daily) was likely the main cause of the kidney stones, that and sweating so much that all the liquid I was drinking around practice, never got to pass through my kidneys, passing straight through my skin into my yoga towel.
It was around this time I slowed my practice right down and practiced in a cooler room - sans sweat, sans smoothie sans kidney stones.
Deleting post after post....., seen as a letting go of attachments, there's some yoga in it perhaps. I do feel somewhat lighter.
There were several
posts on visiting Mysore.
It was never likely, mostly a brief consideration once a year that perhaps I SHOULD rather than that I ever particularly wanted to. Striking was my growing indifference to India in relation to yoga. For yoga to be of any value whatsoever it stuck me that it should be universal, in which case place and time are mostly irrelevant. Yoga is everywhere in some form or other, not Hatha perhaps ( which I tend to dismiss - a distraction?) but the inspiration for yoga. 'We may as well chant in Latin or Greek as Sanskrit or just sing something, anything affecting' (Krishnamacharya/Ramaswami), a good swim in the lake or walk in the hills as well as jumping about on a posh rubber mat, breathing calmly, naturally as well as endless ratios and combinations of breath, as well stand and pause as Sit, tread softly as well as memorising yama/niyamas.
I may not see God in the kumbhakas taken in asana that Krishnamacharya indicated, but often there is indeed a... serenity, a sufficiency perhaps in those short kumbhakas that remind me somewhat of standing beside the lake when it's at it's calmest. Samadhi has been described as 'sufficiency', perhaps the old yogi was indeed on to something.
For you you of course it may well BE India that speaks to you, for me it's an old (really really old actually) lake.
A friend caught a cold recently and mentioned comfort food, a toasted cheese sandwich for her.
It's rice gruel for M. and tended to be bread and milk for me although of late I lean towards M.'s Udon. For you it might be Chicken soup....
After coming across (and deleting) all my old Ashtanga posts from fb, I became all nostalgic and practiced a pretty straight, by the book'ish ( for me), half Primary /Half Second series Ashtanga with M. one weekend.
It struck me that Ashtanga was, is, my comfort food.
That might surprise those who are still new to Primary and struggling or those who maintain the struggle into 2nd, 3rd...., 4th and so on.
But for those who never bought into the aggressive approach, let go of the struggle and just savoured the damn thing, practicing where they are (physically rather than locationally) that morning, a meditative practice rather than bootcamp...., practice can indeed be comforting.... perhaps boot camp can be too, I was pretty hardcore for a while, was it comforting? It was meditative and then it wasn't and then it was again.
What struck me most through, going back through my timeline and deleting post after post, were the comments from friends. How at one point I knew everyone in my friends list and felt I had a relationship of sorts, however long distance and electronic it may have been, with everyone who commented. And sad to see that some names no longer appeared in comments, how many I must have alienated in my trying to come to terms with the practice. How one or two I had seen as.... troublesome had earlier written the friendliest, sweetest, kindest comments that I had sadly long forgotten.
A friend mentioned recently how she was grateful to the blogosphere, the cybershala of Ashtanga bloggers and commenters who connected for a few years back there before blogging was overcome somewhat by fb and Instagram, just as blogging had taken over from the online Yoga and yahoo groups and pages. I too am grateful, for the friends I made (one of whom I'm meeting for lunch for the first time today) through my own blog and those I followed and somewhat remorseful to think of those I pushed away with my writing, through being an arse and at some point taking myself and what I thought I was doing (too) seriously. I should have read more Marcus (Aurelius), now there's some yama/niyamas for ya.
I just have time for practice before heading off to meet my old Cybershala friend. I'll wave my arms around for a bit (Simon's spinal movements) before settling into a comforting half Primary Ashtanga.
Is it the best practice?
Probably not.
Is it that old?
Unlikely.
Was it designed?
The evidence suggests not.
Is it comforting?
After all these years, yes, it's certainly that. Practiced sincerely...., with commitment, it's of value perhaps.
And practiced kindly, mostly harmless
It may as well be a Krishnamacharya, Manju Jois and Richard Freeman inspired, Simon Borg-Olivier informed, slightly Vinyasa Krama modified, soft, slow, half Primary/half Second Series Ashtanga Yoga practice.....at home, as anything else.
Why make it so difficult, why do you want to keep hold of all those old posts, all that information about me, hmmmm we can guess perhaps.
 |
| I left up this note. |
And so it went on, month by month, year by year, a time machine of sorts.
I came across photos of kidney stones and a little further back a photo of my drenched in sweat yoga towel, hindsight is truly 20/20. And before that another kidney stones photo and a little before that photo after photo of green smoothies and posts on my excitement at discovering them. Turns out raw spinach ( present in most of those green smoothies I was knocking back twice daily) was likely the main cause of the kidney stones, that and sweating so much that all the liquid I was drinking around practice, never got to pass through my kidneys, passing straight through my skin into my yoga towel.
It was around this time I slowed my practice right down and practiced in a cooler room - sans sweat, sans smoothie sans kidney stones.
Note: Not everyone is susceptible to kidney stones of course, or the same kind of stones, spinach and sweating may be perfectly fine for you.
Deleting post after post....., seen as a letting go of attachments, there's some yoga in it perhaps. I do feel somewhat lighter.
There were several
'Will I, wont I?'
posts on visiting Mysore.
It was never likely, mostly a brief consideration once a year that perhaps I SHOULD rather than that I ever particularly wanted to. Striking was my growing indifference to India in relation to yoga. For yoga to be of any value whatsoever it stuck me that it should be universal, in which case place and time are mostly irrelevant. Yoga is everywhere in some form or other, not Hatha perhaps ( which I tend to dismiss - a distraction?) but the inspiration for yoga. 'We may as well chant in Latin or Greek as Sanskrit or just sing something, anything affecting' (Krishnamacharya/Ramaswami), a good swim in the lake or walk in the hills as well as jumping about on a posh rubber mat, breathing calmly, naturally as well as endless ratios and combinations of breath, as well stand and pause as Sit, tread softly as well as memorising yama/niyamas.
I may not see God in the kumbhakas taken in asana that Krishnamacharya indicated, but often there is indeed a... serenity, a sufficiency perhaps in those short kumbhakas that remind me somewhat of standing beside the lake when it's at it's calmest. Samadhi has been described as 'sufficiency', perhaps the old yogi was indeed on to something.
For you you of course it may well BE India that speaks to you, for me it's an old (really really old actually) lake.
 |
| Lake Biwa, Shiga, Japan. |
***
A friend caught a cold recently and mentioned comfort food, a toasted cheese sandwich for her.
It's rice gruel for M. and tended to be bread and milk for me although of late I lean towards M.'s Udon. For you it might be Chicken soup....
After coming across (and deleting) all my old Ashtanga posts from fb, I became all nostalgic and practiced a pretty straight, by the book'ish ( for me), half Primary /Half Second series Ashtanga with M. one weekend.
It struck me that Ashtanga was, is, my comfort food.
That might surprise those who are still new to Primary and struggling or those who maintain the struggle into 2nd, 3rd...., 4th and so on.
But for those who never bought into the aggressive approach, let go of the struggle and just savoured the damn thing, practicing where they are (physically rather than locationally) that morning, a meditative practice rather than bootcamp...., practice can indeed be comforting.... perhaps boot camp can be too, I was pretty hardcore for a while, was it comforting? It was meditative and then it wasn't and then it was again.
What struck me most through, going back through my timeline and deleting post after post, were the comments from friends. How at one point I knew everyone in my friends list and felt I had a relationship of sorts, however long distance and electronic it may have been, with everyone who commented. And sad to see that some names no longer appeared in comments, how many I must have alienated in my trying to come to terms with the practice. How one or two I had seen as.... troublesome had earlier written the friendliest, sweetest, kindest comments that I had sadly long forgotten.
Note;: A month or so back it struck me that having 2000 'friends' was somewhat insane and I unfriended (horrid expression) much of my fb friends list, except for those I felt I actually had somewhat of a relationship with, whether as family and friends, long time readers and commenters, Cybershala friends, people I'd interacted with over years on fb or perhaps those who had come to my workshops. Mostly I think, those who had sent me a friend request but had perhaps not interacted with me in any way and I hoped wouldn't miss me or perhaps even notice. My apologies if I unfriended somebody I shouldn't have, whose name or profile picture I perhaps didn't recognise as I got faster and faster at the process on the small screen of my phone.
A friend mentioned recently how she was grateful to the blogosphere, the cybershala of Ashtanga bloggers and commenters who connected for a few years back there before blogging was overcome somewhat by fb and Instagram, just as blogging had taken over from the online Yoga and yahoo groups and pages. I too am grateful, for the friends I made (one of whom I'm meeting for lunch for the first time today) through my own blog and those I followed and somewhat remorseful to think of those I pushed away with my writing, through being an arse and at some point taking myself and what I thought I was doing (too) seriously. I should have read more Marcus (Aurelius), now there's some yama/niyamas for ya.
 |
| I recommend this quite wonderful, newish, translation https://www.amazon.com/Meditations-New-Translation-Marcus-Aurelius/dp/0812968255 |
I just have time for practice before heading off to meet my old Cybershala friend. I'll wave my arms around for a bit (Simon's spinal movements) before settling into a comforting half Primary Ashtanga.
Is it the best practice?
Probably not.
Is it that old?
Unlikely.
Was it designed?
The evidence suggests not.
Is it comforting?
After all these years, yes, it's certainly that. Practiced sincerely...., with commitment, it's of value perhaps.
And practiced kindly, mostly harmless
It may as well be a Krishnamacharya, Manju Jois and Richard Freeman inspired, Simon Borg-Olivier informed, slightly Vinyasa Krama modified, soft, slow, half Primary/half Second Series Ashtanga Yoga practice.....at home, as anything else.
FIN