On the Ashtanga Express

I intended to go slowly today. I ended up finishing Primary in less than an hour. I even asked Stan – did I skip something??? He was like no, you’re just cruising along. He seemed okay with it. I am pretty much okay with it, but I don’t want it to get any faster.

Wrist bind in Mari D today and full bind with ankles crossed behind head in Supta K. Still no hope of doing it MYSELF though. I suppose that Stan’s way of assisting will help pave the way for me to get into it someday via Dwi Pada, instead of that ugly, squiggly way I used to get into it myself. At the moment though, it’s a challenge holding the bind, especially when I am instructed to flex my feet while my ankles are crossed…that’s when the whole thing falls apart. No worries though. I feel so so so so damn good.

I have no idea when and if I will ever be re-taught Second Series. And I really don’t care at all. I feel as if Primary is what saves me in every way. It’s like a religion for me. I can count on it to bring me peace, to create structure and inspire discipline. That’s what religion does, and that’s what Primary does for me. It gives me a stronger constitution, spiritually, emotionally, and yeah, of course, physically.

No practice yesterday due to a long-ass, exhausting class trip to Groton, Connecticut where this landlubber had to spend an hour on a fishing boat, an hour in a marine life lab and an hour at the beach watching kids conduct experiments in the (smelly) shallow estuary. I came home and realized why I can’t seem to cook in the summer, or to put it more accurately, why I can only seem to cook in the winter: energy depletion. In the winter, I have so much energy to burn, and hardly any activities with which to burn it. So, I cook, and I clean up after myself, and by the time I’m done, I’m in balance again. But in the summer, all that energy goes into gardening and walking places, even just walking around my property to see what gardening tasks need to be done. And the sun depletes me. So, by the time it’s time to cook, I have no mojo left at all.

Hamburgers on the grill last night ws about all I could muster, and even that was too much for me. I had to have the husband flip them, and I couldn’t even clean up afterward (nor should I have had to, since I don’t even EAT hamburgers! I made and cleaned my own non-red-meat-centric meal separately, as often is the case.).

Being tired sucks. I was just so friggin tired last night. Now I know how babies and toddlers feel when they miss their nap. I was just cranky as all getout.

Took a couple of Benadryl before bed to help me fall asleep (it’s hard to fall asleep when you’re overtired!), and woke up refreshed and ready to practice.

It occurs to me that I am really really done recovering from my surgery, which took place a year ago next week. I LOOK recovered. I feel recovered. I am back in the swing of the yoga practice, for real now, the way I like it. As everyone knows, life must be lived forwards but can only be understood backwards, but, well, hell yeah…I spent the better part of this past 12 months thinking that I was done with Ashtanga, done with Mysore, that I was back to the gym grind. But it was really that my body wasn’t ready for the rigors of the Mysore practice until…well, until sometime last month. And then it all kind of came together again.

And now I’m just enjoying the ride and trying not to get too attached, which I already am, trying not to think thoughts like, “when is the love affair going to end?” and “what if I injure myself like I seem to do every summer?” Because THAT is attachment. And you can love something and enjoy the moment without clinging to it. Right?




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