Hood River- Day One

Today was a challenging day emotionally. Simply waking up after only in five hours of sleep (in a strange apartment with new sounds, not to mention the anticipation of what lie ahead stirring my restfulness) left me in a vulnerable state.

Yoga Fit Level Four (out of Five, for folks not familiar) is a 40-hour training centered upon the primary texts and philosophical traditions of yoga, which are alluded to in previous levels but are not studied in great depth. We read from and talk about the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali and the Bhagavad Gita as well as delve into the origins of Sanskrit posture (asana) names and their pronunciation, chanting (kirtan), devotional movement (kriya), the meaning of Om, and share personal experiences and feelings surrounding our own self-study (svadhyaya). Yoga instructors from every background travel from all over the country to join and learn from one another. Each level is charged with its own raw testimony, but so far this is the most intense for me personally.

Even our morning introductions brought me to tears. The first woman who spoke, named Diana, was a long time Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma patient who talked about being weak and fearful in her early trainings and wondering whether she'd have the strength to face the emotional and physical demands they placed on her. The safety she found in that environment let her know she was where she belonged. Another, Louise, lost her mother in June to ovarian cancer and the emotional wear and tear of the event was easily apparent in the crack in her voice. She described being acutely aware of her mother's final suffering as she drove from her evening yoga class and looked at the clock precisely at the moment of her death. Still another, Teresa, spoke of a troubled yoga studio she and her husband had purchased and were now using the space to assist individuals with disabilities experience the beauty and power of yoga.

My own personal story involved a little family history (alcoholism) and the resulting fearful nature instilled in me from a very early age and how that fear had influenced every decision I had ever made (or had avoided making, to be more precise) in my life-- from jobs to relationships to education. A year and a half ago I left a job where I had been stagnating for some time, even moving past stagnation to decay, to an unknown future. Someone familiar with my decade-long sporadic personal yoga practice suggested that I teach, and though the idea frightened me somewhat, I felt ready. A year ago to the day, almost (August 15, 2008) I began my first training. I met Tami, who became a dear and close friend who has supported me every step of the way and whom I'm rooming with here in Hood River. {Side note: While most of my friends are on their own equally challenging paths, I truly feel that Tami "gets" where I'm coming from. And although she moved to Portland six months ago, I feel that our friendship has bloomed in a way that I felt was not possible at this stage in my life. It had been quite a while since I felt that closeness to another female. Not only does she have all those wonderful qualities, she is completely goofy and helps me relax and be goofy too.}

I shared my experience the past six months working one-on-one with Cherryl, an early onset dementia patient who had been a lifelong dancer and yogini (having trained with Bikram himself in the 70's and 80's) but who now was unable to attend regular group classes. One day as we lay in salambha setu bandha (or supported bridge) she told me that whenever she's experiencing a stressful situation, "I breathe in love, and breathe out fear." Having hidden in a place of fear my entire life, this moved me in ways I can't explain. Teaching yoga has opened me up to receiving lessons from everyone I encounter-- my students are no exception to this. They continually remind me how connected we all are and how much strength we possess. Other people in the training said that my sharing helped them to open up. I am so grateful to them.

Our two and a half hour morning practice, led by the wonderful Kristen Mabry, had a theme, "Discovering Our Truth (Satya)." We were guided to peel away the layers of judgement, expectation, and competition, of attachment and aversion -- not only of and with and to each other, but also ourselves-- and see what truth lies beneath it all. Our practice was to reflect that truth. I realize that my truth is courageousness. I have the courage to be honest about who I am, what I'm afraid of, what I need to do or not do to support my best self and reflect that courage for the world.

Mahatma Gandhi said "We must be the change we wish to see in the world." Someone in the training today said that when we're honest with ourselves about who we are, we subconsciously invite others to do the same. That courageousness, then, is a link to other people and their own personal truth. For so long, I held myself at arms' length from people or avoided true intimacy in relationships across the expanse of my life. I think in a way I have recognized the path to start to overcome this.

So in the spirit of that courageousness I earnestly tried poses that are physically and emotionally challenging for me: side crow (parsva bakasana) firefly (tittibhasana), and bound one leg angle (baddha utthita parsva konasana). I am glad I was reminded to listen to my body and honor the truth of the pose-- meaning, only attempting advanced versions of poses if the basic alignment remained intact. Sometimes being courageous means letting oneself not know it all...

Our discussions the rest of the day involved Yoga and Religion. Is yoga a religion? How does a dedicated yoga practice affect whatever religious affiliations we may have (or choose not to have)? How do the Yoga Sutras and the Bhagavad Gita regard the observance of spiritual practice?

In tomorrow's blog I'll go into greater depth about this. So much was said that I'm still processing it. Suffice it to say that I feel so much more comfortable addressing the subject with people who ask me about it now. That's what these experiences do for me-- they demystify the world of spiritual practice and help me connect my own experience to that of others around me. And after all, yoga means union (yuj).

I chased the sun westward across the sky to find that the light I was seeking is inside.