The image on the back of the cereal box

I love Kellogg’s Smart Start cereal — something about the crunchiness and the simplicity (and it’s got antioxidants, so what’s not to love?). But the back of the cereal box drives me a little crazy. Just a little. Because the cereal box sits on top of my fridge, I see it nearly every time I’m in the kitchen. What drives me just a little crazy is that the woman pictured on the back is totally mailing in her virabhadrasana 2 (warrior 2) pose. Warrior 2, which can be viewed as reflecting a warrior drawing a sword, is such a beautifully strong pose. While this model looks like she’s enjoying it enough, I want her to engage her energy locks and dig into that pose to really feel the challenge and benefits of it.

I mean, you don’t need to be David Swenson, climbing up rock formations to express your inner warrior, but…well, as Tim Miller likes to tease in his yoga classes, how about trying again — with feeling this time.

Anyway, thanks for letting me get this off my chest. This is not something I would admit to a non-yogi crowd. :-)

© YogaRose.net and Rose Tantraphol, 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to YogaRose.net with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


A girl and a guru

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“That’s the great thing about Mt. Shasta — the veil of illusion becomes gossamer thin.”

–Tim Miller, the first westerner certified by Pattabhi Jois to teach Ashtanga, Aug 9, 2011 during a class discussion on the kleshas (afflictions) described in the Yoga Sutras

I’ve always been drawn to allegories. Today, I hiked into one.

The morning started out as every morning during this Mt. Shasta retreat yoga led by Tim Miller — with half an hour of pranayama (breathing exercises), and a two-hour physical practice (a guided Ashtanga second series class alternates days with a Mysore, or independent-paced, practice). Sunday’s first class of the retreat — a led class — was pretty rough for me. I felt I had the quality of tamas — lethargy, stagnation. Yesterday I did primary series during the Mysore session, which somehow went even worse. It seems I left my proprioceptive awareness in Michigan, because Tim was working with me on the most basic postures. He totally called me out on my virabhadrasana A (warrior A) posture by coming to my mat and saying, “What is this? A baby warrior?”

Incredibly, this morning’s second series practice felt downright lovely — challenging, with a deep payoff in body, mind and spirit. I was grateful, because one of the reasons I came to this retreat was to discover how to more deeply connect with second series. At the moment, it’s a practice I respect but don’t exactly enjoy doing. I guess on some level, I don’t know if it’s the practice for me to focus on right now.

After breakfast and a short break, we went on our hike of the day. There were two options: hang out at Castle Lake, which required no hike after you parked your car, or hike to Heart Lake (named because it is lake shaped like a heart), which was described as a short but steep hike.

A couple of my fellow yogis decided to take the first option, because a fairly strenuous hike was not what their body needed. I figured what my body needed most was a hot stone massaged, but, short of that, a hike represented the next best thing I could do for my body and mind. Ever the indecisive person that I am, I decided to split the difference — I would start walking and see if I felt like continuing.

I quickly became the last straggler going up this route. I had maybe gone a third of the way up and decided I would turn around — wasn’t feeling like this hike was for me right now. I didn’t have the enthusiasm needed to make this not feel like a ton of work.

After mentally checking out, but before I turned my body around, I looked up, and saw a single figure up the hill. It looked like Tim’s hat and his Hanuman T-shirt. Was he waiting for me? The last two people who had walked up the hill had probably past that point 5 or 10 minutes before. Well crap, I thought to myself, if that was the case, I couldn’t turn around now.

When I reached Tim standing there stoically, I asked if he was waiting for the last person.

“I didn’t want anyone to miss the turn,” he said. He stood right where the trail forked, and the path to the left looked as well-traveled as the one to the right.

Tim turned around and started up the hill, and I followed without saying anything for a while — partly because I was breathless from the steep climb, partly because I was feeling pretty lame for being so far behind. Tim has better things to do than wait for someone who after all these years still needs to work on dandasana (staff pose).

As we got closer and closer — the light at the end of the tunnel for me — I said, “Thank you again for waiting. I’m sorry I kept you.”

In his signature non-reactive way, Tim said, “No problem.”

He added, “I like going slow.”

I didn’t care how big that heart-shaped lake we were walking toward turned out to be — I knew with absolute clarity that I was already next to Mt. Shasta’s biggest heart.

In this series:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© YogaRose.net and Rose Tantraphol, 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to YogaRose.net with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Be the yoga teacher and adjust my warrior pose!

Ask anyone who seriously practices yoga, and it’s likely they have a nemesis posture — that posture that challenges and frustrates, defying all laws of physics and logic. If postures were ninjas, the nemesis would be the one you meet in a dark alley to duke it out in the climatic fight scene of a movie.

Mine is, I suppose appropriately enough, warrior 1 pose (virabhadrasana 1 in Iyengar yoga, virabhadrasana A in Ashtanga yoga). In Ashtanga primary series, you enter this posture 12 times — and I feel relief with each and every exit. On a good day, I enter the pose with a blend of acceptance and resignation. On a not so good day, I enter with pure resignation or outright dread. It’s not for lack of good instruction or lack of trying. Over the years, I’ve been adjusted and instructed by outstanding master teachers from around the country who are trained in different schools of yoga. They have spent time with me, breaking down the posture and what I’m doing — or not doing. On my own, I’ve studied the nuances of this posture, and I am constantly taking inventory of my body and my thoughts in this posture. I can tell you what the design of this posture is, and I can tell you what to aim for in the legs, hips, ribs, arms, and so on. I can tell you what you should adjust in my body.

And yet my warrior posture still looks like this:

If you are a student of yoga, it might seem like I’m just not fully going into this posture. But believe me, just getting to this point is work. I have to marshal that yogic breath, and from the inside of this posture, it feels as if I am at my edge. There is major resistance in my body and my mind when it comes to warrior 1.

Some poses are just like that, but we learn so much about ourselves by trying to find a space where we can maintain a steady comfort in a nemesis pose.

I’m posting these photos to let you be the yoga teacher and tell me how you would adjust this posture. I realize seeing a static photo taken with an iPhone isn’t ideal, so feel free to ask questions as part of your observations. I was recently at a workshop with Tim Miller, and he put it about as concisely as you can: “A good adjustment starts with a good observation.”

What spurred me to think of this as fodder for a blog post is that applications for Hilltop Yoga’s summer teacher training program are due on May 10. I know a couple people who have already turned in their application, and I couldn’t be happier for them. It’s one of the best investments you can make in your life. I made my decision in 2009, during a weekend workshop on the root energetic lock — mula bandha — taught by Hilaire Lockwood, the owner of Hilltop Yoga. Hilaire has such a vivid way of instructing, and tapping into the subtleties of that energetic lock in which you lift the pelvic floor and spiral your energy up from the base of the spine helped me become friends with what at the time my was my top nemesis posture — chair pose (utkatasana). That one two-hour workshop completely changed my relationship with this posture. (Once utkatasana moved out of that top spot, virabhadrasana moved right into its place. And it has remained solidly there, despite all my attention to it. My struggle with virabhadrasana A runs deeper than more surface issues that can be addressed in other postures.)

At the time, I was really restless living in mid-Michigan and kept thinking there was a way I could get back to California. I jumped into teacher training solely to deepen my practice with this incredible teacher  because who knew? I might be moving at any time, and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity.

There wasn’t a bone in my body that wanted to, or expected to, teach. And yet here I am, teaching at least four classes a week. Life has its course, doesn’t it.

But enough about me. Tell me what you see and what you would do to help me in this posture. Be the yoga teacher.

And if you’re on the fence about applying for the Hilltop teacher training, jump in — become a yoga teacher, even if the only person you intend to guide is yourself.

(Thanks to fellow WordPress blogger over at Evaporation Blues for being willing to miss part of the NBA playoffs to take these shots.)

© YogaRose.net and Rose Tantraphol, 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to YogaRose.net with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.