Posts Tagged ‘Vinyasa’

I Did It!

July 31, 2017

I yelped with glee as I floated up.

It was the first time I did it on my own without being spotted.

Without really even thinking about it.

I just did it.

I did a full wheel in yoga class today.

I was so excited I yelled out loud, “I did it!”

Then slightly muffled, “sorry.”

Then.

I laughed, “not sorry!  I did it!”

I was super happy.

I was also really grateful to have my favorite instructor for class.

He’s the best and he’s going to school out-of-state, but back and forth frequently enough that he’s still teaching a class here and there at the studio.

When I saw him on the schedule for today I immediately signed up.

It did not matter that it was not an optimum time for me, I did not give a fuck, I wanted to go to his class, see him, give him a hug and have a good session.

Man.

Was it a good session.

His partner was there too, beautiful people, gorgeous, the two of them, one, a yoga instructor the other a Pilates instructor.

Stunning.

But sweet, and so approachable and kind.

I have always felt that it didn’t matter that I was old or not quite as flexible as the lissome 22 years old flocking to the studio, my instructor always gave me great feedback and also humored my profanity.

Like earlier, when I mumbled under my breath, “aw fuck,” as we also did one of my hated posed, broken toe pose, hate it, hurts so bad, but my feet generally do feel better after doing it.

The first time I did the pose, about a year ago, I could hold it for brief seconds and I cried out in pain.

I can probably do the pose now for about a minute, it’s still painful but it doesn’t make me burst into tears when I do it.

The wheel pose though, alluded me for a good year and a half.

I remember doing it when I was a kid, no problem.

It’s mostly just having a flexible back, but it’s also strong core and breathing and maybe, I think now, also a mental thing.

So too is crow pose, which I fell out of trying today and yes, swore under my breath.

I swear a lot in general.

Not in front of my charges at work.

Not in front of my clients in session.

But in general.

Yeah.

I’m a bit profane.

I fell over trying to do Crow pose, lost my balance doing half-moon, on one side, but managed to do it on the right side, my left shoulder has been consistently tight and sore for months now, like an obscene amount of time, since last November, sometimes I think it’s getting better, then it will get stressed again, so my left side tends to be a little off-balance.

Anyway.

When my teacher asked at the beginning of class what the class wanted to work on I piped up, “heart opener” and someone else said, “twists” and for the first time ever, no one said “core.”

Which always annoys me, core work, but it’s needed to be strong in the poses and I get it, but it’s also in every fucking pose, you have to use your core, it seems idiotic to also request more core work on top of the core work, but that’s just my opinion.

I suppose if I was younger and into wearing midriff flashing clothes I’d be hollering for core too.

But what I like to work on is heart openers.

I can access emotions when I do yoga.

Not always.

But.

When I have a good instructor, and my teacher today is the best I have had, I can.

It can unlock emotions in my body, the practice and I felt it was a good idea to have my heart open wide today.

As though I could have closed it down.

My heart is wide open.

Nonetheless I was not expecting to do Wheel, I was expecting Camel pose or something of that ilk.

So when he said we were going to first do a bridge pose I knew we’d be doing Full Wheel.

And there was something in me today, a push to go further and I made up my mind that instead of staying in the half bridge I’d go for the full wheel.

I lay on my back, squared my shoulders, made sure my hands were turned around up by my shoulders, my knees where hips width apart and I breathed in and pushed up with my hands.

And suddenly.

Out of no where.

I was floating.

“I did it!”  I said with much excitement.

I was over the moon, I was floating.

And yes, my heart opened.

Even further than it had before and I could feel it.

My breath expanded in my chest, it felt as though I had breathed in and floated up like a balloon, effortless and easy.

It was amazing.

Then.

I came down, rolled out my wrists, rested for a moment.

And.

Yup.

I did it again.

The second time was harder, my arms didn’t want to quite hold me, but I breathed into it again and mustered it up.

A second time.

When I finished I was sweating and joyful and teary.

I lay with my hand on my belly and my other hand on my heart with in a supine butterfly pose with my legs.

I felt joyous and light.

Then we did corpse pose.

And all of it.

My heart, my body, my mind, floated up.

Images and ideas sprung from me and drifted by.

I had love images impressed upon the backs of my eyelids.

I drifted into those images and sent that love out to the world.

I composed poetry.

I felt tears slide down my face.

It was just amazing.

I can’t quite express it without sounding like a complete idiot.

But I was amazed by what came to me.

And I’ll get to do a little more yoga this week too.

The family I nanny for doesn’t come back from vacation until Thursday, I’ll have my first day back with them Friday, so I’ll get in a couple of extra yoga classes.

Not tomorrow.

I have supervision in the morning and a client at night.

But Tuesday for sure.

I want to see if I can replicate the full wheel again.

It’s nice to see progress in my practice and even though it’s always a challenge to get myself to go, my brain resists, not my body, I do tend to go and when I do.

Such surprise.

So much gratitude.

Yoga.

Who the fuck knew?

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Faith

July 29, 2016

Lit up with flames on top of it.

Like.

A metal light sculpture– “LIVE” and “DREAM” and “MAGIC” that you see on playa.

Or.

LOVE.

Which is my cover photo on my facecrack page.

It’s a lovely sculpture and it’s the intention I set for myself today in yoga.

Day five in a row, bitches.

I mean.

Yeah.

I am sore, but I also can feel the change in my body and I’m not nearly as sore as I would have thought I would have been if you had told me last week I was going to hit five classes in a row.

Making yoga while the sun shines.

Or.

As may be more apropos.

As the fog, er, lurks?

Lingers?

Muddles across the streets in big billowy clouds of fine white mist that feels like soft snow on my face as I scootered down Lincoln tonight.

No wonder my housemate went to Hawaii.

It’s summer in San Francisco.

Ie, freezing.

Especially out here by the ocean, by the beach, where it just whips in off the ocean and slither slides along the streets on soft cat fog feet.

So yeah.

Yoga, as much as I can get in before I head off into the heart of August when all things get weird and wild.

The days are going to be full and hearty and fast and next thing you know I’ll be in school and so it goes, this life, so big, so fast, so full of well, life.

I’m lucky I know it.

And while I can get in the yoga, I’m going to get it.

I’ll have a few weeks with being out of town, one week retreat, two weeks at work in Glen Ellen, half week at Burning Man.

I do hope that in all those places I will take the time to do my own yoga, to keep myself in the flow, so to speak, and not get rusty, now that I can feel myself getting some momentum with my practice.

Especially after the Facetime call I had this afternoon.

So out of the blue.

So unexpected.

So, very, very, very sweet.

It was from a man I had dated briefly before I moved to Paris, I was quite smitten and had things happened sooner, well, who knows, Paris had to be Paris and it was meant to happen the way it did.

We briefly reconnected when I moved back.

But.

Ships in the night.

And I remember the last time I saw him.

I did not leave it so well, I was a little hurt and I think, no, I know, I had an expectation and I could not say what I wanted to save my life and when he leaned in to kiss me goodnight, I just opened the car door and got out.

There was some conversation before that, but not much, I was not the only person getting a ride home and I was being greedy, I wanted him all to myself.

I so often want it all, all or nothing.

And well.

Ha.

I got the nothing.

I went in my house and didn’t call again and didn’t say why I was hurt and just walked away.

Toward what I thought was the real open door.

Or toward whatever I was thinking I was walking toward.

Fact is.

I was not in the place to be in a relationship with anyone.

I was too unsettled in my life, in my home, in my person, I was still grieving my move back from Paris and I was a wounded little cat that needed to hole up and lick her wounds for a while.

Wounds licked.

Healed.

And forgotten.

Mostly forgotten.

A brief wave from the other side of the window at the Starbucks in Noe Valley a year or so ago.

I remember thinking who is that, why does he look familiar and why is he waving at me.

Oh.

Oh!

I watched him walk across the street with another woman and felt a pang and thought of the dinners we’d had, the kiss under the light at Graceland the ride to the airport, it was he that took me to SFO when I flew to Paris.

The last goodbye.

The heartache.

I remember I wrote a blog about it while I was on the plane somewhere over the Atlantic, my heart on fire and my words slipping on the keyboard like tears sliding down my cheeks.

All those things in a flash.

Standing on the corner of Valencia and 24th.

I had pulled out my phone and saw that I had missed a facetime call.

I didn’t recognize the name.

I mean.

I did.

It tugged at me, but I couldn’t place it.

It was also an abbreviated name, first initial and last name smashed together and I just had this moment.

Call it back now.

I did.

And whoa.

Hello.

I was so surprised.

In a very good way.

We caught up and made plans to see each other Tuesday.

I have off Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday next week.

“I’ll be in yoga in the morning, but I’ll be free by noon,” I said.

“What kind of yoga,” he asked.

“Vinyasa,” I replied.

“Me too!” He exclaimed, “before you know it we’ll be doing yoga together.”

You know what?

That sounds pretty freaking fantastic.

I say this after watching a few couples now at the studio over the last few weeks, a boyfriend/girlfriend couple and a few couples that were married and it was really intriguing to see the dynamic and the play of the relationship in the studio, I found myself thinking, wow, I’d love to do yoga with a boyfriend.

Who am I?

Who the fuck am I becoming?!

I don’t know.

But you know what?

I kind of like it.

Ha.

You know what else I like?

Putting on my big girl pants and researching renting a car to go to Burning Man.

Because I am over the anxiety of trying to figure out how to get there and back.

I priced it out and sure, yes, it’s more than I want to spend, can’t I just get in for free, fuck, just fly me out in a private helicopter, but there’s this idea of being radically self-sufficient really running a line in my heart right now, and I thought, fuck, I have gone to the event 9 times now, this is number ten, what would it look like if I just drove up and back on my own?

I wouldn’t be stressed.

I could leave when I wanted to.

I can go when I want to.

I could.

I can.

I will.

I get paid tomorrow and after I pay rent, yes, I think I will be renting a car for the event.

But before all that.

Yes.

Yoga.

Because.

Hashtag.

Yoga.

 

 

Fuck The Pain Away

March 25, 2016

I was sharing with a lady tonight all the methods of grieving.

And I can sustain that one for about a week, maybe.

Add a sexting or two in there and maybe only three days.

Sex is lovely.

Sex is great.

But I can’t fuck the pain away.

I just have to go up into it and through it.

I realized this as I had a grief bubble burst on me today.

I was not expecting it.

And I have to say the relief has been deep and profound since it happened.

And yes.

Ugh.

It was in yoga that it happened.

Yeah.

I know, I know.

I’ll start burning sage tomorrow, shh.

After the happy glow of last night I was a tired girl, but so pumped up and juiced on being alive, I had a hard time dropping off to sleep.

Plus the call of all that moonlight slanting in between the slits of the bamboo shade hanging over the glass door in my room, it was just a lot of being awake versus really sleeping the way I would have liked.

Granted.

I still got up and I did my morning routine and I put on my yoga clothes and got my bag out and the mat and my water bottle.

I had oatmeal and coffee and I wrote some stuff and said some stuff and knelt and got humble, not really, I am so not humble, but it helps to start my day from a position of humility.

Always that.

I may lose that during the day, but always I have to start from the lowering of ego and ask for the help I need to get through my day, whatever lies ahead, I cannot do it on my own.

Alone has never worked for me, even when I think, hey this could work, I could figure this out, I got this.

I ain’t ever got this.

Which is why the taking of suggestions is always so helpful.

I can see that there was a part of me that was suspicious of this yoga thing from all the protestation I have had in my head for the last few years since it has been calling to me, for a long, long, long stupid ass time.

I think I was afraid that I would have feelings.

And everyone knows how much I love feelings.

Insert irony here.

I was walloped, in a soft kind of surrendering way, with the feels today in class.

I was not expecting that.

In fact.

I was expecting to have more joyful, light filled, love filled, ease filled, serenity feelings.

Nope.

I got caught with my yoga pants down.

Figuratively, people, come on.

It was hard, and I knew it was going to be hard after not having gone for nearly two weeks, to get back into the flow of it, but I put myself out there and I also let the instructor know I’d been out with a pretty wicked, only in  retrospective can I see how stupid sick I was, cold.

So.

Giving myself the permission right from the start to take it easy and just gently get back into it rather than break myself trying to do every pose.

I just did what I could and it was enough.

And I did slip into a sweet space, a relaxing into my body, even though it was challenging, rather than staying in my head.

At the beginning of the class the instructor suggested that we pack up those thoughts, people, work, nagging things, school, personal life, and lead them out the door and let them stay there.

Fuck.

I wanted away from my head like nobody’s business.

I had some strange dreams and a tiny little nag of heart sick that I didn’t even realize was there.

But yes.

It was there.

A little left over remanent of having run into the room mate of someone who I have not had contact with in a few months, I actually have lost track, it’s around three months now, I think, could be more or a little less, but there was a time a month or so ago when I knew to the day, the hour, the minute, the last time we had seen each other, the words exchanged.

I could tell you the contents of the last text.

I can’t anymore.

The texts were erased.

No need to go be a tourist in that land.

It hurts too much.

I have scrolled through some photos once or twice, but I can’t quite, I get sucked in and it hurts to see the landscape and the pain in my eyes even when I was laughing.

Laughing to save my life because otherwise I was just going to collapse with the pain.

I have seen this room mate before and been absolutely scrupulous to keep it all about him, about his stuff, no questions asked about his housemate, no mention, not my business, don’t go digging.

And.

Well fuck.

I slipped a little last night and asked him to give the cat a squish.

AW.

Fuck.

I knew better the minute it popped out of my mouth.

Not your fucking place and then, I was just like, hey, give yourself a break, you are human, it was a little mistake and hopefully he didn’t even notice it.

I remember turning with relief to the woman who was waiting to talk with me.

Oops.

Ha.

She didn’t check in today.

Hmm.

Good thing to remember, I’ll see if she calls tomorrow, I may or may not having an extra hour on Sunday now after all.

Anyway.

I think I woke up with a teensy little emotional hangover from the spiritual intoxication I was feeling yesterday and a little chagrin about mentioning the cat.

But.

I didn’t realize it.

Until.

That song.

That one song.

The one the yoga instructor has when we do this one pose, and ha, oh, I just realized this, fuck me man, it’s called a “heart opener,” of fucking course it is.

Ah.

God, you are funny.

The music has a catchy sweetness to it that I have had joyful visions to, the love and feeling of sun, the sound of bluegrass guitar picking, the blooming daisy from my heart, yeah, that guy, usually when I’m in this heart opening pose and I’m suddenly lit up with light and joy and damn.

It feels good.

Today.

I was in the pose and I recognized the song and I heard a part of the chords that I hadn’t caught before, a sort of sweet, sad, melancholic faint brush of regret, that hint that underneath the joy there was this little pool of sorrow–that I can see probably leads to movingly to that opening flower in me.

Pain is the touchstone of spiritual growth.

The flower blooms from a field of pain.

Which makes it that much more beautiful.

I did not hear the joy today, I heard the sorrow.

I did not consciously think these things.

I just noticed that instead of feeling uplifted I felt a bit moored and then I thought of a suggestion I had heard before to send a ball of light towards a person and fill it with love.

I thought of the man I had seen last night, my innocuous Burning Man crush and I was about to send it out to him, and then.

Oh.

I saw his face instead.

I held up that bubble of warm love and light and I pushed it out.

And it collapsed on me.

And I broke into tears.

Face scrunched up, eyes smashed shut.

My entire heart clutched up and instead of light I was drowned in sorrow and salt.

The bubble burst and I just cried.

I did so silently, but it felt like I was being buried under a tsunami sadness.

Then.

It was gone.

I was left, heart very open, thank you very fucking much, wet, face soaked with sweat and tears on the mat.

I sank into the final five minutes of resting pose.

I breathed cleanly.

I sat up.

I said thank you.

I rolled up my mat.

I walked out the door.

Into the sunlight.

Drenched in love.

Having let the final last lingering bomb of grief dissolve off my body.

I got home, took a hot shower and lifted my face with gratitude.

Graced.

All the love flowering in m heart.

Roots griped into the rich soil of sorrow and pain.

Watered with tears and growing toward the sun.

Raised in brightness, raised in brightness.

These are the days to write home about.

These are the days, simple and small and laden with the gifts of living a full life.

Shining out.

A beacon.

I am.

A rising sun.

Shining out in the rising sun.

Cleaned and new.

Bright with hope, promise, joy.

And.

As always.

Love.

Yes.

My love.

Always that.

Always.

Love.

 

 

This Is Change

February 20, 2016

Change is coming.

What’s that they say, the infamous “they,” there’s no change without change.

Yeah.

I think that’s the one.

So.

Change.

I got up and changed into my yoga pants (which really, let me tell the truth, they never were yoga pants before, they played yoga pants on tv, they were pajama pants, no longer, on no, they have officially graduated to prime time) and a tank top and a loose top over that.

Too much clothing in hindsight, but I wore what I felt comfortable with.

I pulled my hair up into a top knot.

I did my morning routine and did my breakfast and coffee and writing.

I outed myself all the fuck over social media.

I was feeling ridiculous with the fear.

Upset bowels and all.

REALLY?

It’s like my tummy can’t take anxiety, there is a reaction.

I was dressed, fed, coffee’d up and I knew it was time to get online and register for the class.

The minute I finished filling out the fields and was about to put my credit card info in to charge for the first class today, my stomach went into knots and I had to fly to the bathroom.

Good gravy.

My body does not tolerate fear.

AT ALL.

Purged and ready to go.

Jesus fuck.

Anyway.

Got that out of the way.

Sat back down, finished the payment and breathed.

I got a supportive text from my person, then a phone call check in and then, ok, I’m doing this.

I grabbed my yoga mat.

Which is not mine, it’s my housemates, I’ll be purchasing one here tomorrow, just up the street at the co-op I’m a member of.

Ah.

Yeah.

Heh.

I’m a California girl.

Want to know the really funny part?

I wanted a kale salad after the work out.

I mean.

I was really craving kale.

I almost trotted up to the market, but the sudden down pour got my ass back to my house and happy with what was in the fridge to eat, which was lovely too (homemade brown rice, turkey with brussels sprouts and asparagus, a super succulent apple, good tea and fabulous company–my best girl came into the city from Castro Valley) and to a hot shower.

I needed it, the shower, and the company and the food.

And.

The yoga.

I had a wash of intense gratitude come over me at one point.

This is where I am supposed to be.

It was such a sure feeling.

So positive and affirming.

And.

I had moments of what the fuck am I doing, I can’t do this, I look like an idiot, I can’t hold that pose, who can hold this fucking pose, holy shit, she can hold this pose, I can’t do this.

And.

Then I would push through and just try again.

Even when I fell on my ass.

Yes.

I fell on my ass trying to do side plank.

And I just “oofed” and then I collapsed in child’s pose and laughed.

I full on belly laughed.

Even the instructor giggled.

It was great.

I don’t have to take myself so damn seriously, nobody else does, why the hell should I?

I learned a lot though, I learned I’m not as bad as I thought and that there is always something new to learn, another place to grow, another place to experience change and movement.

“I think it’s going to crack you wide open,” my friend said tonight after dropping me off at home.

We had the best date ever!

So good to have a girl friend date.

She came over to my place and kept me company while I ate my lunch, we had tea, caught the fuck up, commiserated about work and school and life, then we headed over to a movie at the Balboa Theater.

We saw Hail Cesar, the new Coen Brother movie.

It was great.

The company, of course, was fantastic and it was such a pleasure to hang with my friend.

We had dinner after at House of Shanghai, you know if Patricia Unterman gives it the thumbs up is has to be good.

It was phenomenal.

Then after a latte at the cafe down the block and we headed over to the Outer Sunset to do the deal.

Just such goodness.

It was a cozy, sweet, loving, lovely day.

Oh.

And yes.

I signed up for classes.

I am doing the Frequent “Flow’er” which is unlimited yoga, for $99 a month.

Which is actually $84 a month since they give a student discount and well, I am a student!

I committed to my person that I would work out three times a week and the price was right.  I will go at the three times a week and when I can, if I want to, which I have been told I will, I can go more often.

I signed up for tomorrow’s class at 10:30 a.m.

The class runs an hour and fifteen minutes.

It’s pretty perfect, get into my gear and walk a half block to the studio, come back home, toss my clothes in the laundry, shower, and get on with my day.

The classes that work for me happen on Mondays, Thursdays, Saturday, and Sunday.

I won’t be doing classes on the weekends I am in school, but aside from that I can and will be committing to the three times a week, and I don’t doubt when my body gets more used to it, or my brain relaxes enough to enjoy being in my body, I will go the fourth class.

I reminded myself too, while I was in the class trying to regulate my breathing and keep my hips aligned and my spine straight, and just ease into it all, that it was just for today.

Just today.

This is how it works.

One fucking day at a time.

I show up.

I showed up today and it was a miracle, at least for me, it was, it’s a life changer.

I can tell.

And I can’t foresee the exact change that it will illicit, but I know, it’s time.

I’m in.

You try until you can.

I’m going to try.

I am.

I am.


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