Am I doing Traditional Ashtanga?

It has been officially five months since I've transitioned from a daily Mysore practice at David Robson's shala in Toronto, to a home practice in whatever bedroom / living room / hotel / hostel / kitchen floor I happen to be inhabiting.

What has been the result?

1) A Really Disgusting Run-Down Yoga Mat that has not been Cleaned for Five Months

Need I say more?

2) A Return (Sort-Of) to Running

After David Robson had shattered my dreams of becoming a ultra-marathon runner (just kidding, I can hardly make it to 10K without crying), I had stopped running all together.

While traveling, it's been hard to run or do yoga consistently, so I was keeping a very low mileage and spotty practice for a couple of months. Only recently have I begun consciously raising the running bar, and my Ashtanga has suffered for it.

This week, I've decided to do no running and come back to a daily Primary Sequence practice.

3) My Notions of "Traditional Ashtanga" have Changed....Drastically

I believe in the benefits of a daily traditional practice, and I believe this practice is right for me.

However, I wish there were teachers out there telling me that you do not have to practice asana when you are sick, on a Ladies Holiday, or doing something wonderfully beautiful like surfing or kayaking with dolphins. I've gotten myself in such a bad mood sometimes because I had to "miss" my full practice. Or, if I manage to squeeze in a practice, I am often incredibly tired and foggy for the rest of the day. How is it that I let something that's supposed to make my life EASIER suddenly make my day horrid, guilt-ridden, or completely drained of energy?!

So I decided to let go of the frustration that comes with a full daily practice.

And so much changed as soon as I did that.

If I am tired, I will do the sequence until I have had enough. I save my energy for my day.

If I do not have time, I will put together a short-form Ashtanga and not feel guilty about it.

I have stopped counting how many days a week I have done a full sequence. In fact, I have stopped doing FULL VINYASAS (I know, *Gasp!*) and it has made the vinyasas I do more fluid and strong. I have even backed off from the poses that are too difficult for my bum knee (padmasana, you impossible duck), and concentrated on the poses that are best for my body (Janu shirshasana A 3x for the win!).

I am happy about this change, as it has freed me from a lot of negative emotions without leaving me yoga-less. Until I return to Toronto where I can afford a Mysore practice, this is more than enough.

4) No Longer on a Fence, I am Firmly in the Ashtanga Camp...that is, Both Feet In. 

I know I just spent the last point saying how much I've deviated from the traditional sequence. But I think my home practice has made me understand the intent of the tradition more and more.

Before I left Toronto, David Robson told me that home practice would sharpen my focus more than the Mysore class.

And it has.

I unroll my mat every day and do a series of asanas in the quiet of my own body, no external cues, no external distractions. Each day, it is a challenge to bring my mind into a meditative state, and it's an addictive challenge.

Other yoga teachers I know practice with DVDs, or under the guidance of another teacher. While there is nothing wrong with this (hello my love, yogaglo.com!), my most meditative and peaceful sessions have always been my quiet little Ashtanga ones.

For all you Ashtangis out there, what do you make of this? 
Have you ever done a consistent home practice? 
Have you ever done Ashtanga on the kitchen floor? 
Am I spouting heresy and should I be kicked out of the Ashtanga Camp?

My Melbourne yoga setup

I've been pretty diligent with my morning Ashtanga practice since I've started traveling around Australia. I've done yoga on a lot of carpets, kitchen floors, and quiet little corners.

In my expertise, carpet throws off balance and makes jumping forward and back really difficult. So, I try to avoid it.

But kitchen tile is incredibly hard, so I grab a sarong or towel to cushion my old bones.

The view of stove, vacuum, and table fades away by Surya Namaskar B.

I'm loving self-practice because I don't have to wait for adjustments (while at the same time, I miss them), and I can listen more carefully to my own breath and rhythm. I'm expecting my return to Mysore to be loud and busy as compared to self-practice.

There's no better way to usher in a new year than with a good, strong, knock-the-sense-back-into-you Ashtanga practice!

Happy New Year!

Pizza night and the Mysore morning after

This morning, I woke up groggy and tired. I didn't want to sleep any more, but nothing in my body wanted to bend, stretch or push either.

I'm ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN this feeling had nothing to do with the activities of the previous night.

PIZZA PARTY DEUX: 

Spinach, red onions, roasted eggplant, mush-a-rooms, cherry tomatoes, peppers, tomato sauce (with about 8 cloves of garlic).

1) Crust

2) Toppings

3) Bake

4) Attempt to peel the cheese-glue off the tin foil and free the pizza!

5) Pizza cheers because you can't wait for the rest of the dinner party it smells so good! (Sorry about my face. Gawds...)

6) "Traffic was horrible!"

7) "Would Sandy notice if I stole her dogs?"

By 10 PM, us girls were glued to TLC's Breaking Amish while the boys held their heads in their hands and pretended not to fall asleep.

Understandably, the next morning was tough on my old creaky bones.

It took a great deal of determination to drag myself off to Mysore.

I made it to Ardha Padma Paschimottanasana and wanted to give up. Every jump back hurt. I felt nauseous, dizzy and tired. I wanted to give up.

I forced myself through to backbends.

I've been able to comfortably drop back (fall back, catch myself on my hands, Thanks, Gravity!) for a few days now.

But coming back up is another story failure.

I push.

I fall.

Push.

Fall.

Repeat, repeat, repeat until my arms feel jello-y from catching myself.

Today was even worse. I was nearly ready to give up, so I sat up and watched the room around me.

A girl in the front row dropped back, pushed herself back up, and did it again. And again. And again.

Something clicked. Something about the way she pushed her legs down, something about the way her body floated up...

My favourite yoga teacher always says, "We learn by watching," and it was never more true than today.

I tried it again, and lifted up as high up as I've ever gone.

And fell back down.

I tried it again, and again, until I was frustrated and exhausted. I thought to myself, "No more falling back, GET ALL THE WAY UP."

And it worked.

So I did it again.

And again.

And by the time I was done, I forgot how tired I was when I came in. I couldn't even really comprehend that I had lifted up from a drop back all by myself.

I finished the closing sequence and lay down for rest.

Leaving the studio, Jill, the girl at front desk asked me, "Did you get up?"

"What do you mean?"

"From the backbends," she explained. "I was watching you. You lifted so high up, and fell back down. After a while I couldn't bear to watch anymore."

I laughed. "Yeah, I got up eventually."

She beamed. "Congratulations! That's huge!"

In a way, it is. My body achieved something it hadn't done before.

But facing that fear of falling back? Pushing through that fear and trusting in my instincts?

A surfboard and some waves taught me that years ago.