Reflexiones sin flexiones

Tengo que reconocer que la práctica de ashtanga siempre es dura, y más en el shala de Sharath (y no estoy hablando de “ankle/leg grabbing”). Al final veo que donde una persona avanza más no es en las posturas, sino en temas personales, o quizá no es avance, sino que más bien un progreso y retrogresión seguida de otro progreso. Hay que involucionar para evolucionar. Hay temas personales que son duros de tratar y trabajar pero hay que intentarlo constantemente. Luego hay lo que parece ser el juego de Sharath, que es darte y hacer lo que esperas y te gustaría, hasta que realmente lo esperas, y luego no te da nada ni te hace caso de manera brutal, mientras que observas lo que hacen los demás (bueno, algunos de ellos), que les sale de manera muuuuy inferior a lo que haces y lo que tus profes siempre te pedían de ti y de los demás en sus shalas respectivos. Sharath no lo pide de algunos, porque cada uno está trabajando algo distinto y están todos en distintos puntos aunque estemos en el mismo asana. El acepta mediocridad en muchos asanas de algunas personas (que nunca sería aceptable en otras escuelas donde he practicado) y luego no da ningún reconocimiento del nivel de calidad de algunos de los demás. (Porque sabe que estas personas son capaces de esto, luego que no necesitan reconocimiento? Porque se enfoca en otras cosas según qué persona - la respiración, la concentración, la fluidez? No tengo ni idea) Pero esto es lo de menos.
Luego hay el otro juego de Sharath, que es ponerte a prueba con cosas raras en su oficina, y esto es donde nunca sé si apruebo o suspendo – no tengo ni idea que espera él de nosotros en estos momentos. Me ha hecho el mismo juego de dinero (no darme bien el cambio) 2 veces – una vez el mes pasado, que me hizo recordar que hizo lo mismo la primera vez que estuve aquí – ni me acordaba hasta que lo estaba explicando a amigos esperando fuera y me di cuenta de que, esperate! Ya me había hecho la misma jugada antes! Imposible que un indio no pueda sumar y restar bien con números fáciles – que los indios son unos cracks con mates, por encima de todos los países con excepción de los rusos. Repite el mismo escenario: después de pagarle yo, él pone las vueltas (el cambio) encima de su escritorio, lo miro, veo que está mal, no digo nada, el dinero sigue en la mesa hasta que lo recojo yo sin decir nada, porque total, qué más da pagar 2 euros más cuando ya estás pagando 300 o 500? No sé que espera él – que le diga algo? que le corrija? Que no haga nada? Está comprobando si soy inteligente o lista? No soy buena con el ajedrez, no hago jugadas para observar qué hacer después. Es una cosa sin ninguna importancia pero Nick Evans me contó más de una vez algunas cosas parecidas que hicieron Guruji y también Sharath con él hace tiempo. Puede ser por cantidades grandes o pequeñas, obviamente el tema aquí no es el dinero, aunque lo parece en la superficie; sin embargo, lo que están intentando sacar de ti en cuánto a comportamiento sigue siendo misterio para mí, y si me acuerdo bien, la teoría de Nick era que son unos “tests” sin importancia, de mostrar irregularidad, para observar qué pasa de tu parte, o simplemente para cambiar las cosas, sacarte de un estado predecible y controlable donde tu mandas, o un universo donde se puede entender el proceso y orden en las cosas. Si lo comento no es por el dinero (que da igual) sino porque imita el proceso que también hace él dentro del shala, de hacerte un montón de caso y luego no hacerte ninguno, o de no darte ninguna postura en 6 meses, y luego darte 4 el día que te vas.
Para mí al fin y al cabo, lo más bonito del shala es poder practicar con toda clase de gente. Con niños, con viejos, con gente con piernas y pies protésicos, con gente que tiene que ir por la calle siempre con muletas, pero están ahí trabajando igual que tú día tras día, y esta vez algo que me impresiona aun más (si cabe) que los con miembros protésicos, la cantidad de personas ahí practicando grandes partes de la cuarta serie de ashtanga (advanced B), alucinante!!!!! Unos asanas que dices, “de veras, ah, no sabía que esto era una postura de yoga! No me digas, que doblas la rodilla al revés cómo y te metes el pie dónde? Y con la pierna detrás de la espalda haces esta torsión mirando atrás en maricyasana???!!!!! Hanumanasana a diestra y siniestra. No exagero. Son posturas que cuando las ves, casi te tapas los ojos de miedo. Me quedo pensando, “Wow! Qué privilegio tengo de estar con esta gente!” No hay tantos en el mundo que practican cuarta, que yo sepa (que lo han hecho realmente, con proficiency en las otras series). Están trabajando lo mismo que tú e igual que tú, pero te da mucha fe en el sistema y la práctica y sobre todo una sensación de fascinación en el cuerpo humano y las funciones perfectas de sistemas en el universo (el sistema nerviosa, por ejemplo, el sistema de “checks and balances” que existe dentro del cuerpo y que está siempre trabajando durante la práctica de yoga, entre otros). No me explico bien porque son cosas que entendemos y observamos a nivel inconsciente pero queda asombrosamente obvio mientras observas la práctica de estos. Increíble!

Por el Amor de Dosa!

Things I’ve been meaning to write up in this blog lately have taken the form of lists these days (a result of chanting and memorizing so many lists of declensions of Sanskrit nouns, I’m suspecting), but I might disappoint my two readers out there if I write up list after list of things I’ve been reflecting on (and I’ve got quite a few lists in my head right now). So, although one of you (or approx. 50% of my readership) may find this not as stimulating reading as the bits I write when I’m traveling in search of tigers, the other reader out there (which in some parts could be considered majority) may be interested in hearing more on yoga. Technically, this is part of an email I wrote to a friend in response to his question about how I deal with the disparity of working on understanding the internal universe inside one, going deep into one’s self, and then reconciling this with the external universe of daily life in a typical, mundane context. I’ll just paste the email and hope that this serves to help non-practitioners understand what part of yoga is about, and if you find it too boring, just go back to your facebook page and see if anyone’s put a “like” next to your latest post.
In India you get to work on a lot of issues, internal issues and also dealing externally with things not working out how you'd like (on a very regular basis). And yes, the yoga goes very deep and you get pretty crazy things happening subconsciously and unconsciously in dreams.
I can say that what you're talking about, working through things internally and then having to face a different external reality, is what yoga is all about. It's not about twisting your body into a strange pose or balancing everything on your hands, a sweaty mess involving as much physical exhertion as some Olympic sports. This is what is looks like on the surface (or from outside) but when you do a regular daily practice and you move deeper (and into stranger poses) you stir up a lot of psychological junk/mental stuff that in the past manifested into a physical reaction in your body, or has settled and accumulated somewhere in your body (or mind). And dealing with resolving these things on the mat and then off happens every day, not just when you're in India, or after being in India and then returning to "normal" life. Life experiences always have physical repercussions in the body/mind, as any body worker knows. Much of yoga is just dealing with and accepting things that are released (or re-released) into energetic and psychic streams after postures or practice. I had a big thing this past summer; I was going so deep into hip-openings (dvi pada sirsasana and yoga nidrasana, etc), releasing things that are so internal in your body and so deeply-rooted. What a mess it was (and so godawful painful in practice for weeks, virtually unable to do yoga, although I could ride the bike, swim and run for an hour with no pain at all). After I wrote it all out on 30 pieces of paper and did 108 sun salutations for Guruji (we did a ceremony on his birthday) it all mysteriously and thankfully left, all the strife and turmoil and horrible misery. But it was bad for a time.
And yes, sometimes the mess and goo comes out in small doses; maybe for you that's happening, when you start to practice or take it up again. You do some yoga and you think you're doing the right thing and you feel worse and crappy later and then think, “why? yoga is supposed to make me more stable, etc, not weepy or aggressive or sore....” But as you eliminate past disturbances from your system (anything from trauma to treatments with antibiotics), the junk has to go somewhere when leaving you (maybe negative thoughts, pain, inexplicable sadness, a bad reaction you can't control, maybe strange pussing white sores on your arms and legs which stay there for a month at a time, no joke, but it'll come out, one way or another). Anyway, what I'm saying is that the disparity between apparent/experiential realities has to be worked through all the time, whether you practice once in a while or day in and day out for 20 years. Of course there are escape mechanisms to avoid this or the roughness of dealing with the disparity (drinking, smoking, any addictive behavior), but yoga (or any meditation practice) is exactly working through and dealing with the disparity of what we perceive as reality and what we almost never even perceive as reality but sometimes may get a glimpse of in short moments which we work to extend into longer glimpses through a meditative practice. Of course, really, in the end, there's no disparity between external and internal, because the internal system is a reflection (or maybe microcosm) of the external and working to incorporate this realization into living can help you make peace with the "disparity". Some of yoga philosophy is about this. It’s bedtime now, but if anyone is interested in any more information or further reading, please send a comment and I can provide more details or put you in the right direction.

Back on Base Camp!

Back in India, and it finally feels right (more than 2 ½ weeks into it!). Sorry I haven’t taken any exciting photos yet, but some nice orphans I was hanging out with offered their modeling services to me in the Ramakrishna Ashram garden (while waiting for the bhajan (singing) to start to celebrate Vivekananda’s birthday anniversary) - one girl curiously looks more African than Indian but she's dancing flamenco(?). Just a few lines here - I promise to write mehr und besser in the future!

You know you’re in India when:
-you find yourself running into the street, chasing the barefoot man on the bike selling fresh herbs for 4 cents
-it’s considered totally normal if your Sanskrit teacher burps audibly 4 times in class
-the crossword puzzle is easy enough for even you to do
- boys working in restaurants don’t take their eyes off you the ENTIRE time you’re there
-people you try to tip question it, looking at you and saying, “Why?”
-the coffee is served sweeter than Dunkin’ Donuts coffee
-your biggest realistic fear is “what if that coconut tree dropping coconuts daily is feeling loose when I’m walking underneath it?”
-your biggest unrealistic fear is “what if the rickshaw doesn’t swerve in time to miss hitting that cow?!!”
-when the natives say, “see? this one isn’t spicy” and the snot is already halfway down your chin
-movie theaters are called “talkies” and movies “fil-ums”
Sabes que estás en la India cuando….
-de repente estás corriendo a la calle, detrás del hombre descalzo en bici que vende hierbas frescas a 4 céntimos
-se ve normal que tu profe de sánscrito eructa 4 veces fuertemente en 1 clase
-hasta tú puedes resolver el crucigrama
-los niños que trabajan en restaurantes no dejan de mirarte en NINGUN momento cuando estás ahí
-cuando intentas dar una propina a la chica que limpia, te mira y dice, “por qué?”
-el café se sirve más dulce que él de Dunkin’ Donuts
-tu miedo más palpable es “qué pasa si esta palmera de coco que suelta cocos a diario últimamente decide soltar uno justo cuando estoy yo pasando abajo?”
-tu miedo menos racional es “qué pasa si el rickshaw no gira a tiempo y chocamos con esta vaca!!??”
-cuando los autóctonos dicen, “ves que no pica esta?” los mocos ya se te caen por la barbilla
-los cines se llaman “talkies” (como, pelis “sonoras”) y las pelis “fil-ums”

All's Well that Ends Well

Just like the deadly fistula from which the king suffers in Shakespeare's "problem" play, my problem on my last day preparing to head for the airport and leave India behind was the equally deadly Shigella, a food and water-borne bacterial disease.

The king's fistula was a long, pipe-like ulcer, my bacteria was a rod-shaped, non-spore forming one (originally the same strain as E. coli but later developing into its own family). The king survived; so did I.

I think the similarities end there because the last act ends with a couple happily in love and well, never mind.
The important thing is that there were many lessons learned and not only ones regarding how to board a plane pretending to look healthy right after having collapsed in a hallucinatory feverish fit on the floor of the boarding gate waiting area right after being deemed "not fit to fly" by the airport medical staff. Not only ones about how to quickly navegate to a bathroom in a split second while jumping over polite airplane passengers to vomit, because I learned those lessons years back. Not only ones about what not to drink on any big travel day (number 1 thing not to drink would be pomegranate juice with that cool crunchy Calcutta ice). Not only ones about not believing my invincibility despite all those crazy ashtanga postures I can do and all the juicy, iced beverages I can normally drink on streets all over India. Not only ones about the importance of avoiding milk while recovering from serious intestinal trauma to avoid deadly relapse. Not only ones about the joys of getting sick leave from work and the importance of not being one of those "I go to work even when I've got fever" types. Not only ones about coming to terms with the incredible difficulty of accepting weakness and where you are in your yoga practice after a debilitating illness. Mostly ones about letting go and trusting in others and the proper reestablishment of balance in the micro- and macro-universe.

Anyhoo, I enjoyed everything in my travels up until the end, but I think I was doing too much, trying to see and experience every single thing because I knew I didn't have much time left. In general, I truly appreciate doing nothing, sitting still in meditation, getting adequate rest and sleep, so it's kinda dumb that I pushed myself so hard at the end to fit everything in. Regardless, I made great connections with random Indians and foreigners at different points along the trip and really enjoyed the sights, sounds and breath-taking insanity of movement and masses (of people) as well as moments of stillness and inner tranquility that only India can offer.

Here Kitty Kitty Kitty

Just as the yogi is ever striving to perfect an asana, so do I go ever in search of the Indian tiger, in this case, the Bengali tiger. My research and calculations suggested that I should go to the park which, apart from being a World Heritage UNESCO site and the world's largest delta area of 5 rivers, holds the largest tiger population. Somehow I hadn't calculated that, um, yeah, at a total of 283 tigers for something like 5,000 square kilometers of parkland, the odds of me actually seeing a tiger were like 1,000,000 to 1. Duh. I guess I thought that if it was an area where these tigers still manage to kill and eat 30 odd Indian villagers each year, they must be in close contact. So, whatever. I still have my hopes up for seeing a tiger in this lifetime! And I've seen almost the next best thing, as well as catching all kinds of other crazy wildlife, crocodiles, monitors, monkeys, and all in terrain (if you can call it that) which was so watery, with high and low tides 4 times a day, that the flora has adapted to being immersed up to the leaves of treetops and then having their roots exposed endlessly. A really unusual and beautiful habitat/niche and a really nice break from the pollution and dirt of cities. I enjoyed the time, peace and food at the tiger park, as well as being able to entertain myself with an Israeli ex-military officer, who proved to be my sole source of humor among a mad troupe of 15-odd Bengali/Japanese/Australian family members. I spent 3 days traveling to and at Sunderbans Tiger Reserve, and I could easily have spent a week!

Calcutta, Mon Amour

Wow!
Who would have thought?
This city is great, far surpassing my expectations. I expected to be horrified and depressed (and at times I am, but no more than in any other Indian city). Instead, it's beautiful, semi-organized, with so much character, pretty safe walking around all neighborhoods, Indians of all classes and walks of life can be found even in "shady" neighborhoods, it's a 24-hour city and I guess it can be called the city of joy, as it is reported to be called.
The pollution is definitely the worst part of it. I have a sore throat and gooey eyes from the dirt and pollution. When I came here last week, I instantly got stuffed up and gooey-eyed, which I normally am not, and as soon as I left 5 days ago, I got instantly better. Upon my return 2 days ago or so, within 24 hours, sore throat again.
But this doesn't deter me from enjoying a city that is thriving and interesting. A mixture of old, decaying, colonial architecture, majestic buildings, lots of turn of the century buildings, a few modern buildings, the classic Indian style of geometric patterns and crazy shapes. Lots of streets have trees, lots of nice promenades, even very humble neighborhoods retain some calmness and beauty. Few people pester you here.
I must admit I expected more from the Bengali food. I had an interesting and delicious banana flower curry in my cooking class the other day but it's one of the few meals here that I reacted badly to and I eliminated from my body within the hour (ha ha - bad sweats and all). It's strange - I eat in food stalls on the street, chai from anywhere (when they get the water from the streets pumps) and never get sick but I go to a high-class woman's house and the stuff runs right out. Anyway, my body responds fast and everything was better as soon as it was out. But Bengali food in general is too sweet (always had added sugar to every dish) and not spicy enough.
All the same, I've discovered a fantastic street stall called Tirupati with lots of Korean as well as Indian dishes which takes the cake for atmosphere, nicely painted colored benches, a sweet man with tuberculosis as cook and the sous-chef is deaf. The food is great and cheap and I see a Korean film crew making a documentary on the hand-pulled rickshaws every day around there. The sweets here are great. Like 100 varieties, all based on a ricotta-like cheese called chhanna.
There are so many different and interesting neighborhoods here; the city has such character. Plus, right now it's Durga Puja, celebrating the goddess Durga, AKA Chamundi, AKA Kali, who is the big main goddess for the city (like a patron saint) and every neighborhood has huge decorations put up, all hand sculpted, decorated, painted, lots of trompe l'oeil to look like real buildings with columns, imitating all architectural styles. Tomorrow most will be immersed into the Ganges River, here called Hooghly as it's one "tributary" division of the Ganges.
The metro works like a charm here, with the same tickets as in Barcelona and trains that look even as old as the "L" trains in Chicago. But the stations are decorated with lots of art and sometimes Bengali poetry, unlike the Chicago stops. This city reminds me of NY, in that even at 2 am you'll find restaurants open and lots of shops open. It's easy to get around with all the transport, from yellow cabs to metro to electric streetcars to auto-rickshaws to cycle-rickshaws to hand-pulled rickshaws where a man literally pulls you around with his own force. I felt like I couldn't take one of these until I saw a fat Indian family of 3 (grown adult female as big as me) all riding in one, pulled by one man. I've seen as many as 4 in one so I don't feel bad about making them pull me. They'll try to scam you like any rickshaw driver but I always ask the natives how much it should cost and then give tip, which an Indian never would. It's their profession, if they don't get work, they don't make money. It's seems unjust making someone pull you along, but it works out perfectly when you're already tired from touring and walking all over and your 2 1/2 hour yoga practice.
My trip has been made even better by meeting a really neat Israeli guy 5 days ago who I've spent all of these days with. A former Israeli military officer for 8 years (that's right), he's now studying Indian Studies and has a lot of the same interests as I (as well as our mutual love for this country). Plus, there's the added benefit of traveling with a man, which, trust me, makes it sooo much easier here. Oh, did I forget to mention that he also speaks Hindi, so we have problems ever. I'm cut-throat hard about not being taken advantage of by taxi-drivers, etc and he speaks the lingo, so we get along swimmingly. So basically we've been laughing our heads off and conquering Calcutta and the Sunderbans Tiger Reserve.
Anyway, my eyes are actually watering from the pollution so I've got to go back to the hotel.
I send my love from Chowringhee, the Muslim/Bengladeshi quarter of Kolkata. XOXO.

Here's my street (Contour Road) walking home in the morning after yoga practice. Long shadows as the sun rises!
I love the fruit on the head. The apple man was happy to have his picture taken.
A bonsai tree in the gardens of the Sat-Chit-Ananda Ashram, my favorite place in Mysore. Existence-Knowledge-Bliss!