Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Kest Workshop, part 2

No yoga this morning. I was up at 4 – seriously, I was. Duckie hollered in her sleep around 3:30 because she had thrown off the covers and was cold. And indeed it was so freaking cold in the house from leaving the windows open that I just couldn’t bring myself to do anything but jump right back into bed. So, OK, so I’ll close the windows and have a sweater within arm’s reach of the bed tomorrow morning.

The cold I caught during the workshop is still doing a number on my sinuses. The chicken soup I made last night was lovely (and will be for lunch today, too) but it’s not enough to clear the nose first thing in the morning. And at that point I thought that a yoga practice with such a nasty cough would not be the kindest thing I could do for my body. I’ll plan on it tomorrow. Again.

For today, I’ll run the lake and see how the knees feel.

Continuing notes…

“Boredom is a sign of addiction.”

Paraphrase: Yogis believed that your state of mind at the moment of death determined your destination in the next life; hence, the ongoing search for wisdom.

Happy baby was much improved by Sunday. I was even able to extend the legs out straight and get that exquisite stretch through the hips.

The Monster forward bend from LSD: I stayed absolutely still throughout the whole ten minutes. I did not fidget. He said, “Just let whatever comes up in your head come up and let it go. Sometimes what comes up would land you in jail. Just let it go.” Coming out of the bend happened s-l-o-w-l-y. The lady to the right of me had a lovely stunned expression on her face at the end of class. Breathless. She said, “I’ve just never… never done anything like that before. I thought I was going to break.”

“Yeah. Literally,” I agreed. She nodded. I liked her a lot. She’s from Gastonia – I sure hope I run into her again sometime.

During class the last day. We’re facing the blue wall in some kind of straddle-stretch inversion and Kest is behind us, saying, “Cultivate gratitude for this challenge. Yoga is practiced in this country mostly by the upper middle class. Most lower income people don’t have the time or money to do this, to spend on themselves. They’re busy trying to put food on the table. Be grateful you have the resources to do this.”

One of his techniques for forcing the issue of vanity and humility is to keep the class in a pose until all but a couple of people have dropped to their knees. So you either hurt yourself, or you
give yourself a break. That’s the point, after all. Make decisions that cultivate kindness. Practice it on the mat.

Last class. Some chicks next to me giggling absurdly, but really it didn’t bother me too much. It was their reaction to the physical challenge, and at that point we all needed the lightening up.

In savasana the first night: “Bring your attention to the entrance of your nostrils, where the breath is spilling in and out of your body. Be aware of subtle vibrations.” I felt the fabric of my pants on every inch of my legs. I felt every point on my body that was snugged up against the floor. I felt my ears tingling. Odd. Nice, but odd.

[Me: The teacher inside goes silent when you ignore it for too long. That’s what happened with my dad – eventually he stopped offering input and advice because he knew I wouldn’t pay attention to it anyway. Not sure where we stand with that these days, he and I. Will have to ask him if it’s improved at all since that conversation years ago.]

K has an article on his website about food and addiction. When I first read it I thought it was nuts. I thought I needed a lot more food than I really do. Turns out he’s right (for me, at least, at this particular moment.) Go figure. (Sugar thing is still going pretty well. I really do need to get rid of the chocolate from the party. Maybe I'll bring it to LEAF.)

That's all for today. I have 51 documents in my revision queue. Sheesh.

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