On the outside, looking ... around.

Every Second Saturday of the month, all the art galleries and many businesses on Main Street stay open late, serving wine and cheese (and tiramisu!) and celebrate new openings. One of me and B's favorite storefronts, School of Jellyfish, was hosting a multimedia presentation/installation/poetry reading/dance performance. I'd met the artist a while back, just hanging out one night outside the shop, and didn't get a very good vibe from her; she seemed like another city person marveling shallowly at the "cuteness" of our town.

So cut to this past Saturday night. When I got to the shop around 7, it was packed with people dressed quite fashionably and air-kissing one another's cheeks. (Those things are, of course, fine, but they rub me the wrong way in certain settings when innumerable other, nameless things are rubbing me the wrong way, too.) I said hi to B (who was volunteering) and got my plastic cup of Prosecco, then wandered toward the back to look over the crowd.

Out of the blue, tears welled in my eyes. Not from the magic of the performance (which was more engaging than I'd expected). No, it was from thoughts of how I don't fit in here, and I don't fit in anywhere, and why, oh why, is it bothering me? I so often feel like I'm just too frumpy, too boring, too vanilla, too soccer mom-style, for anywhere I go. I *so* long to be this fashionable, elegant, interesting, avant-garde-y woman. But I'm just me — which is really ok, most of the time.

The crowd shape-shifted as the artiste introduced her dancer and explained her concepts (check out ekphrasis and kinetochore). Taller-than-me people pushed back to make room, spilling into the space where I'd been standing. I went outside, where I could see the dancer better through the wall of windows on two sides of the building. She was ravishing. Though neither the poetry nor the eventual music were audible outside, I wouldn't have noticed either even if I had been inside. She was that great (and I usually have a hard time watching modern dance). So many people walking by had been headed for the next gallery, only to surprise themselves by stopping in the drizzle, taking in a bit of the performance. Those huge windows really are spectacular. As the rain intensified, I headed back in.

Last week, while writing a long-overdue email (Hi, E!), I spent too many words trying to explain my feelings about where I've lived, how the various places have affected me, and how I am sometimes frustrated by some things about some residents of my little city (some have never left, and hate NYC, and think it has no redeeming qualities, while others have moved up from NYC to the town, and have patronizing attitudes about it, e.g. having a backyard garden is somehow both quaint and exotic). When I lived in the Bay Area, I was so different because of this. When I moved to Utah, I was so outsider because of that.

So it shouldn't have been such a surprise to me, when a little later on Saturday night, after two more cups of wine, it occurred to me that I apparently reinforce this "I don't fit in" feeling. It got me asking: Why am I so invested in identifying as an outsider? So far, I think the answer is that I'm not "invested," really; I just don't know what my niche is (yet).

Except, except, except — at the yoga studio. There, I'm just me. I fold the laundry, sign people in, try to reassure new students that they won't die in the hot room, breathe. Right after class on Saturday, I was goofing around in the studio, trying some arm balances (note to self: bring a dry towel next time; they are much harder when you are sweaty). The teacher, W, was walking past the door to the hot room and saw me, then ran in and did a couple of postures with me! It was fun, a kind of playful challenging...

I guess that around the yoga studio (this one as well as my last one in UT), just about everyone is stripped of the outward affectations that I see as separating us. To be sure, there are women with the swankiest lululemon tops and perfect hair — this is Westchester, after all. But there, I don't feel less-than, or not something enough. It's enough to just show up for a common purpose, a common 90-minute moving meditation, where we attempt to drop our baggage, our drama, at the door, and just sweat out the issues in our tissues (as my old teacher Alex says).

As with so many things I've learned and practiced at the studio, I need to figure out how to internalize this feeling and carry it with me into the real world. It's enough to just show up somewhere, be me, and have a good time. Even if I'm standing in the back, in just a T-shirt and jeans.

Day 10/30: Yoga to the People

The boyfriend had a meeting "upstate" at 7:30 last night, so wouldn't be able to pick me up from the train station. So I made an after-work date with David's Bridal to try on bridesmaid dresses for my friend's October wedding. Hey, I thought, I could get out of there in time to do some yoga! So I brought my yoga clothes with me to work.

And I'm so glad I did! There is nothing like bridesmaid-dress-trying-on to motivate one to work out. It's irrelevant that most of those dresses are universally unflattering. The yoga studio had a 6:30 class just three blocks from the store, so after trying on four dresses and taking the requisite pictures for my friend, I made a beeline for the studio.

I had looked into going to another studio near work where one of the Bikram 101 challengers often practices, but HOLY SMOKES! Their single-class price is up to $30! Zoinks. Maybe that's to give students an incentive to buy a many-class package, but I can't afford one of those right now. So off I went to Yoga to the People, where classes are just 10 bucks. The only other time I've been there (in November I think?), I was worried about the quality of the instruction, and was so, so pleasantly surprised. They may not be an affiliated Bikram studio, but that teacher had clearly been to training and was A.W.E.S.O.M.E.

The studio was packed as usual when I got there. I didn't have any cash with me, and they don't take cards. Yikes! Awk-ward. But the girl working the desk and the woman who was to teach just told me not to worry about it; I could hit an ATM in the neighborhood after class and pay then. That was such a nice surprise. I set up my rented mat ($2) in the back (third) row, in one of the few remaining spaces. It felt really cool to not have an attachment to needing to be near the mirror.

A funny thing I noticed the first time at this studio, and this may be true of many classes in New York, was that students are really, umm, vocal with their breath. In the first breathing exercise, there was the slight hissing/snoring sound that I've heard at a couple studios, same as the noise sometimes demonstrated by teachers for new students. But the exhale, oh man, the exhale. It's like an actual vocal exercise. I really don't know how to describe it. You know the noise some people make when they see a cute baby (or baby animal, in my case)? That Awwwwwwww? Well, the exhale noise is like that, but breathier. It's not quite a moan, but certainly approximates it.

It's so foreign to me, but I have on more than one occasion felt like I am really restrained in producing noise with my body. (That sounds bizarre.) I guess I've just never really found that place in myself that experiences anything other than awkwardness when deliberately trying to create some kind of primal sound. For me, for me, there is nothing authentic about it and so it feels like a waste of time and for me, dignity.

BUT!

I realized last night that many of the students there are likely actors, singers, or other kinds of performers. So many of them have practiced working with their breath, and have exercises that mimic pranayama breathing, but with that additional step of warming up the vocal cords. Once I figured that out, the breathing didn't seem melodramatic. It just seemed like an extension of their other passions. Which, to me, is pretty awesome.

The instructor was fabulous. The woman (I think her name was Kati, like kah-tee) has been teaching for 25 years (not sure if it's been Bikram the whole time) and she was amazing. Super, super strong, very deliberate with instructions for anatomy, good energy, good with the new students. I don't know this woman at all, and she never called me by name (students write their names on a sticker that goes by the mat), but just by her presence, I was pushed to go deeper into some postures. It's possible that was my deepest floor bow since moving to New York — it felt like my stuck shoulders were finally, finally, opening up. (I would give anything to have a photo of the time three years ago that my old studio owner picked me up by the wrists while I was in this posture. I wish I could see where my shoulders were then, because they actually feel better now.)

Today, I'm not too sore. I feel it most in my feet, and in my left knee, which had another rough/tight class. It's really interesting to feel something happening there. I imagine I must have developed a bad biomechanical habit when I busted my ankle in November, and now (despite post-activity tenderness in the ankle) I'm working through the mechanics. It's good. :) With the exception of some unfortunate loose short-shorts slippage on a guy in front of me during the spine-strengthening series (really, I was overdue for some kind of sighting like this), and some aching guts due to eating fabulous tacos for lunch, it was a great, great class. That studio packs people in, but people are respectful despite being mat to mat.

Another note: I really like my peace and quiet in savasana. On Sunday I got all snippy about people slamming the door at that studio. Well, here, after class, people were whispering (but 50 people whispering adds up, noisewise) and the studio doors are opened to the lobby (I don't know if this was just last night, or is always the case) where people are arriving for the 8:30 class. It was LOUD!

Then I remembered something in Bikram's orange book. It's nice if you can meditate in a soothing place that smells good, with an altar and whatever else you need to achieve total serenity and oneness with the universe. But one point of his yoga is to help us get to the point where we can meditate under any circumstances, whether we're upside down in a hot room or sitting in traffic in Los Angeles when it's 90 degrees and the car's air conditioner doesn't work.

This is my challenge, my opportunity. To be able to go inward to find that quiet, still place. I wonder if this is linked in any way to my difficulties with rabbit posture, if it is truly the opposite of camel (which I usually find fun, without the difficult physical and emotional experiences so many others have). Rabbit brings up in me the same things I often hear mentioned with camel. So, time to look inward.

Namaste, kids!

Day 7/30: Maybe it was the eggs Benedict?

I got up at 6 on Sunday morning and was out the door by 6:30. I had set my yoga gear by the door the previous night, so I wouldn't forget my mat, as has happened at least once before. The two-hour drive north was beautiful as the sun came up and warmed everything... It feels like spring! At the beginning of my drive, I had half a cup of coffee (sounds crazy but having some is essential for me), a banana, and a little bit of farina (generic Cream of Wheat) that happened to be in the fridge. My belly was feeling good when I got to the studio. I could probably have gone without the farina, but I wanted to start a long yoga day with plenty of carbs.

Class was good. As planned, I snagged a spot in the first row, in a corner. I've only ever been in/around that spot in that studio; no one ever told me it's the hottest part of the room. Teacher-friend complimented me and another student on our backbends while we were in them, so of course I looked over (while backbent) to see where the other student was, and we pushed each other even further. It was cool! My friend had been teasing me about Triangle before class, remembering how I'd totally and completely sucked at it a few years ago when we were both in Utah. I warned her that it had gotten better as I got stronger with my home practice. Well, Triangle came along in class and I think she was pretty much dumbfounded. Yes!! Score one for my nascent hamstrings. (She was standing behind me, and I couldn't resist whispering a "Told ya so...") Also, she helped me out in Half-Tortoise. Awesome.

Pretty sure I got deeper into most postures than I do at home, which was so nice; the heat is my friend. But this studio is DAMN hot, the only place I've ever felt like my skin is actually on fire. Also, and it could be me, I feel like I am under heat lamps here. The lights burn my brains out and make it really hard to want to keep my eyes open during floor series savasanas. I recognize, though, that this is all a test! Apparently I passed, because I didn't claw my eyes out or find ways to blow the lights' fuses. And I just sipped water, which was cool. I guess I'm just not in the habit of doing it anymore (since there's really no reason to when I'm home, not sweating like crazy).

A couple strange things happened: I got a really bad headache in class at some point. Then about 20 minutes later, it was gone. Uhh, OK. Something was just moving along, I guess. Then in Kapalbhati breathing at the end, my left knee seized up like crazy! It felt like there were shards of glass in it, so we moved gingerly after that... After spending forever and a day in Savasana (note to students: Could you try not slamming the studio door while everyone's resting? kthx) I was fine, and apparently the knee was too. Weird!

Teacher-friend, her friend and I went out to brunch, then hung out with their dogs and walked around town a little bit to kill time before my class at 4 (the silent-but-with-music-wtf? class). Despite my pre-emptive caffeination and plenty of water, then more water with Emergen-C after class, the in-class headache had returned, and with a blinding vengeance. Ugh. I was not looking forward to driving home (into the sun) with a migraine, but didn't think I could take another class.

I'd decided to go home anyway and do a single set of the series at night, but then... friend's friend had some errands to run before they'd do dinner, so I JOKINGLY suggested that she take the 4 p.m. class with me to kill time. Much to my surprise, she said yes. So it was decided: I was really going to double up.

Ooohhhhhh, the "silent" class.*

My understanding had been that it would be led by someone who counts out the postures, maybe controls the heat, too? This was not that. And I never did get a good explanation for why the "silent" class has a musical soundtrack, which ranged from soft-alternative-ish-mellow-rock (meh) to Annie Lennox (whom I love, but not when I'm sweating buckets or trying to), to something that sounded like a Bruce Springsteen song being sung in Mongolian. No, seriously. And it wouldn't end. Finally, the last thing I want to hear when I'm in the Savasana between the standing series and spine-strengthening series is a tortured rendition of "Amazing Grace." Nothing could relax me less.

Maybe I wouldn't have minded the tunes so much if my fellow students weren't also attempting to commit grand larceny with my peace. People were toweling off between every posture. I could hear water being gulped, frequently. People were up and down and leaving the room and blah blah blah blah blah sigh... I should keep in mind the bottom line: I wanted to have two classes in a hot studio in a day, and I did that. I got good corrections and feedback in the first class, and I really tuned in with my breath and the collective energy in the second class. One thing I can say for the students at that studio - they are really, really enthusiastic about Bikram yoga. Maybe it's not as "disciplined" (others might say uptight?) as where I practiced before, but the studio is relatively new, too. And maybe, just maybe, I need to take myself and practicing a little less seriously.

Great news: The headache was gone for good after the second class!

* It is entirely possible that none of this would have bugged me if I didn't have a headache, or if these things had occurred in isolation. But the combination was just too much.

This morning, everything was sore. The first muscle I noticed was toward the base of one of my fingers. Really, how does that muscle get a killer workout? But it's been good to feel my body all day. My biceps and lower back, especially, feel very stretched. Can't wait to double up again — if there's a silent class this time, though, it'll probably be at home.

Day 3/30: A Goldilocks kind of day

On March 1, I couldn't stop biting my nails, but did some pretty good yoga. On the 2nd, I didn't bite my nails at all, but I didn't practice, either. Yesterday, whatever I did was just right.

I walked around for an hour yesterday during my lunch, and found a few new (to me) yoga studios near work, including an actual affiliated Bikram studio. Yay! I hope to make one of the 5:30 or 6 p.m. classes there soon. Maybe the week after next, once I a) get paid again and b) know something about the house closing date.

The regular train home waited just for me (woohoo!) and the BF headed to the pool to swim. Even the dog's low-for-him energy level conspired to help me have a good practice last night. Yay!

I felt pretty good, energy- and pain-level wise, so I started out doing the whole (both sets) standing series. When I got to Triangle, I felt wasted and thought about switching to the single-set iTunes playlist, but decided to plug on through at least Triangle. It would have been lame to switch only during one of my most challenging postures. But it went fine.

Re: Triangle - I have definitely lost a ton of flexibility since moving to NY (and quitting a near-daily practice), but I have come so far with my strength. For the longest time I was skeptical that I actually had hamstrings to use in this pose, but over the past few months they have helped keep me upright in Triangle, instead of sliding out into the splits.

So I switched to the single set before the spine-strengthening series. I didn't want to overdo everything last night and then be completely drained today. As always, it felt so good to move through the series. This yoga is amazing, folks, although if you're reading this you probably already know that.

Not to whine, but it can be hard to practice at home — I miss studios' heat, the feedback, the excitement of others, the heat, mirrors, "talking shop," and oh, did I mention the heat? But I have noticed that I have more energy and excitement to practice lately! I can only chalk it up to becoming part of this blogging community we've got goin' on here.

It could be that something like this is happening:
The best class I took after my 10-day Bikram intro in August ’04 was in May of 2006 (I loved it, and went a couple times, but couldn't afford it and was working and caregiving, both full-time). It was Memorial Day weekend, and my hot-water heater had blown up on Friday night. By Monday I desperately needed a shower. The only place I could think of that I could take one? Bingo! Bikram Yoga Sandy, just down the road from where I lived.

I checked their schedule and they only had one class on the holiday!!! Needless to say, it was packed, maybe 50 people? A lot, anyway, for that little studio. I was kind of tripped out and bugged that I wouldn't be able to see myself in the mirror. Much to my surprise, everyone in the room became super cheerleaders for everyone else. The energy level was amazing! No one left, and I don't think very many people sat out postures, either. We all lifted one another up (literally, of course, in Full Locust).

So even though I've been practicing all by my lonesome, for the most part, I have all the other blog writers and readers to help lift me up and share energy. The compassion that has flowed through comment sections across Blogger and WordPress astounds me. I can't thank this nebulous you enough for this, for helping me return to something I need so intensely for my mental and physical health.

* * * * *

A word (or many, it turns out) on fibromyalgia:
This came up in yesterday's post/comments about my experience of a pain/fatigue complex. This was at The New York Times' website today, and I think it's commendable that they're showing some of the many faces this syndrome can take. But reading the comments broke my heart. It shouldn't matter what causes someone's pain; I would hope that compassion could be shown toward people who are in any kind of pain, regardless of its genesis.

I consider myself lucky to have discovered ways that work for me in calming my nervous system (someone else's story here). One commenter (No. 126) at the Times story said a few things that resonated. Among them: "[T]he more you don’t move, the more your muscles get locked in, the more pain you’re in, the harder it is to get going. It’s a vicious cycle. But start slowly." Although I sometimes feel like I'm cheating, or being lazy, when I only do a single set of the Bikram series, this affirms a little bit that I can only do what I can, when I can. Sometimes I have good "classes," like last night, when I started out with both sets of everything. And whenever I have the opportunity to be in a studio, I bust my ass to try to do everything! With a memorable exception, it usually goes well. :)

xoxo to all!

3 days, 2 classes, 1 studio...

... and 0 clean, dry towels left at home.
And I couldn't be happier. :)

Has it really been almost a week since I went back to a studio? Amazing. The boyfriend mentioned wanting to do some yoga last weekend, so I checked the websites of the two closest studios. Dingdingding!!! We had a winner. The studio 40 minutes southeast of us had a $10 donation-based class scheduled at just the right time on Saturday.

We went, the owner taught, the heat was perfect, I loved it, B loved it. I'd been to this studio only twice before: on Thanksgiving 2008, and some random day last year. Always good experiences, it's just kinda far away, and at 20 bucks a pop for regular classes, kinda expensive, too. It's especially hard to consider joining when we're about to buy a house and money will be even tighter than before. I love this job, and I can't put a price tag on contentment, but taking a 15% cut has some practical consequences...

I got two interesting corrections in class, that directly contradict what I've been taught before and have read in Bikram's books. I did the postures "her way" after the corrections, out of respect for her teacherness, but I still wonder.

First, for the third part of locust, she told us to put our foreheads on the towel. Not just kiss the towel, but tuck the chin all the way to get the forehead down. I was like, But if I do that, I won't get my callus back under my chin!!! Just kidding. I was really thinking, My nose! It's broken!!! The boyfriend actually has quite a large nose. I don't really know how/if he did it the way she said. But damned if I didn't get my legs way higher in the second set. Have any other yogis/yoginis heard this?

Second, in janushirasana, the head-to-knee pose toward the end of class, she told me to grab my foot and stretch toward my foot, with a flat back, before tucking my chin and touching my head to my knee. More like the setup for standing head to knee than, say, rabbit. I had always been taught to grab my foot, then curl down. "This is a compression posture first, and a stretching posture second." Right? No? Thoughts?

B had taken a Bikram class five-plus years ago in a studio in southern San Diego, and he liked it. A few nights before the Saturday class, we ran through a single set of the series at home. So maybe those two things helped him on Saturday: At the end of class, the teacher/studio owner congratulated him on his first class, and said that maybe he was really a spy student from headquarters sent by Bikram to check on the studio. (That sounds almost creepy now, but it was just sweet and funny when she said it.)

Saturday night and Sunday we peeked in at YogaCup.com to watch the asana championship. I didn't see any of my old Utah friends, including Marc, compete, but an old teacher of mine was representing Nevada. I was so excited when she won the national competition, with the most beautiful smile on her face the entire time! My computer/the live feed was screwing up on Sunday, so I didn't get the "streaming" experience, but I saw choppy pieces of another incredible performance by Brandy. She was always such a great teacher, and I had the privilege of practicing next to her several times.

Did that alone inspire me to get to class on Monday, when dead presidents got me a day off from work? I don't know. But I went back. The teacher (not the same one) had me move my mat to a weird, awkward place (I think because we were starting class while waiting for a couple people, and she wanted to save them spots in the middle row? I think? But they never showed.), then she was rapid-fire with the dialogue. Nothing but. There was no room for light or air in her delivery. Most teachers, if not all the ones I've had, will chill out for at least one or two of the pranayama breaths and just count to six on the inhale and exhale a few times. Not this lady. I was so aggravated and rubbed the wrong way! I don't think I've ever left class before, but I was thisclose on Monday.

In the setup for triangle, she was speaking so fast that I literally couldn't understand her. She was like a drill sergeant auctioneer. Unbelieveable. But by this point I was having a decent class, strong enough/flexible enough, but also one where it's just enough that you got to the studio. You know? After class I was thanking her for teaching, and out came these words: "I came in here today with really low energy and you were just 'boom, boom, boom' (snapping my fingers) and I didn't have a choice but to go with it." Whaddya know. My subconscious came through. It's not you, it's me.

I ended up talking with her for about 20 minutes, and she's great. Her daughter is a teacher, too. The daughter's first class taught after returning from training? My Thanksgiving class in ’08. I remember that she knew Utah friend Marc at training. Another guy from that training teaches at the studio and was in Monday's class. Amazing how this little yoga world of ours works.

She encouraged me to come back often. I mentioned sucky finances and that I'd done work-study in Utah. She said I should talk to the owner about work-study there. I was like, Ummmm, I've come here four times in three years. Usually it doesn't work like that? But I guess with them knowing I've been practicing at home, they are less inclined to think that I'm just a wannabe moocher. The owner is headed to Barcelona for the Bikram seminar (with bloggers aHappyYogi and Johan, too!) in less than two weeks, and I don't know whether to email her before or after. Sooner's probably better, huh? How do I ask? Sheesh. I think my old studio owners would give me a good reference.

It was soooo nice to get back into a studio, not just for the heat, but for the community, too. Sometimes we talk about how we can feed off of one another's energy during class, and lift one another up during some postures, especially triangle and full locust. Well, I think the concept applies to the whole studio experience, too. I get more stoked on yoga in general when I'm around other people who are excited about it. Isn't there some physics/chemistry concept about attraction that addresses this? (Gonna have to look that up... Ninth-grade chemistry was 14 years ago. Shit - half a lifetime. Moving on...)

So now I have this itching, burning feeling in my belly. I find myself daydreaming and conniving about how and when I can get back to practicing in a studio.

Congratulations to the Bikram 101 Challengers!!! I probably wouldn't be going through any of this if I hadn't seen the group on Facebook last December and gotten intrigued. Thanks to the organizers — here, here, and here. :) You guys are halfway done (Action JoJo, you're not far behind!), and you inspire me every day! Keep rocking it, worldwide yogis!

Peeling the onion

Last night I just about went crazy looking for a very important piece of paperwork. Who knew I needed a copy of my divorce decree to apply for a mortgage? I've only done each of these things once; I don't know what kind of paperwork you need to have on hand. The divorce was so basic and simple that it never occurred to me that I'd need documentation of a settlement — there wasn't one.

I was so, so, soooo frustrated in searching for this piece of paper (which, not coincidentally, arrived in the mail on my birthday in 2008) that at one point I was ready to scream! The file that I thought it was in, it wasn't. B and I searched high and low (he's a good sport) through stacks of bills and statements and various paperwork, but it was nowhere to be found. Somewhere, there are several boxes that I haven't opened since we moved 15 months ago, and I know that some of my favorite yoga clothes are in one. I'd bet that effing paper is in there, too.

At first, it seemed like the stress of homebuying was at the root of my frustration. Then, I thought it was the chaos and overwhelmed feeling I got from having so many papers in so many piles all over the apartment (oh, I have grand visions of organization at the new place, believe you me).

But really, the downright anguish I felt came from guilt and shame erupting, once again. Looking through the filing paperwork made me feel like the biggest asshole. It took me right back to May 2008 when I looked someone in the eye and told him for the last time, "It's not you, it's me," and meant it, and watched his whole world fall apart, again. I know with every piece of my being that it was the right decision. But knowing that doesn't make me feel like a good person. It just makes me feel callous and selfish...

At that time, yoga, day in and day out, was the only road to peace and solace I had. I don't know if I was simply drinking the Kool-Aid that Bikram teaches, that if you can stay calm and collected upside-down in a hot room, then you can stay calm and collected under any circumstances. Did the yoga help me become a cold, callous bitch? I don't think so, because in every other arena of my life (at the time) I was incredibly feeling... But where's the balance between strength and compassion? Nonharming nonviolence, anyone?

I don't know how to deal with feeling these, all over again. It feels like the several-month period when I'd go in the yoga room for class and once we hit the floor, I'd just cry, those huge, quaking, silent sobs. Eventually, the sobs passed.

How do I work through this guilt for good, when I thought I already had? Is it even possible to resolve it completely? When do I stop feeling like a shitty person whenever the D word comes up?

Ughhh. Somehow, writing this all out has calmed me. I've been avoiding the mat this week, afraid that the demons will creep out again. I don't want to scare anyone.