Uschilini

I am slowing down into the Benarsi groove.

This morning I watched the sunrise from my window-stealing the perfect accompaniment to my Suryanamaskars. Below the chai wallah prepared his brew for those paused for the ascent, or to observe the tourists who make there way along the banks, in awe of the daily rapture of Surya, Ganga, Shiva and Gayatri.

I am faced with my own current of action as I slow down, and feel aware of the ability to do just as much as I would at home-to give myself the permission to get clear. Yesterday I catch myself taking out my to do pages in a pause-and decide to put them down rather then fill the moment with something from one of my many full branches-and yet I am as full as ever!? I pick up a book I haven’t read for a while, and it’s pages seem to be written for me in the moment-they are.

This mornings practice moves slowly, fluidly, and strongly. Less need to shake things up and more ability to allow the fire to burn slowly. I’ve felt a cycle of the last 2 years coming around-I am like an egg which is craked, and oozing out some of the insides-to reveal a sunny, rich yolk.

I sit at the end, eyes closed, taibone rooted, low back soft-belly relaxed and clear. The sun is shining right through the window and directly into my 3rd eye. I’m allowing my inner gaze to be luminous, and cast the light into my receptive heart.  

Today is my first ‘Landed’ day here in Kashi.

Last night was the eve festival of ‘Kartik Purnima’, and throngs were streaming through the streets to light lamps at the rivers edge, and light fireworks in celebration.

This morning I left my guesthouse and took to the ghats for the first time. Re-immersed in the sense of walking sadhana as I navigate the puddles, postcard sellers, and dismantling of the festivites-the banks buzzing with devotees there to take the sankalpa ritual of karmic cleansing to begin the New Year following the darkest night.

For this occasion the Yogi population goes up, and there are so many sadhus along the banks, being photographed by Japanese tourists as they chant texts and thumb their Rudraksha beads, in a trance. They are countered by the eager eyes that meet me as I walk, faces from postcards and documentaries I know, each Yogi hyphenated by their ‘tilaka’ stripe, and adorned with flowers and beads.

My home is a room with soft light overlooking a Rama temple, much more ‘Kashi’ then my previous digs, totally real. The hot water is broken, and the power is out, and I open the windows to let the fresh air in, after I’ve been smoked out by the chai wallah who leans against the little temple wall. But this is what I love. I’m good at sinking into the life here despite any ‘discomforts’. They make life at home in Ojai seem almost unreal.

I’m off to the Rural Center today to meet with Mahadev, and begin the production which will be ready for the party on Dec 5th.

Masculin-Feminin

The language of my dreams is becoming clearer to me.

The last weeks I’ve been feeling the shifts, tugs, and jerks of my masculine and feminine natures. I spent the last two years literally jerking myself back and forth.

The other day, a friend commented on one of my tendencies, and I had the awareness of how extreme I had reacted in recent years. For instance-I’d condemn slowing my body down and softening when I was running, and I’d condemn running, being so physical when I was softening. Similarly my emotions would run from extreme highs of self empowerment, so watery weepy lows of weakness and doubt. 

Since returning from India I’ve been in more of a soft period. I’ve been taking alot of walks, and my practice is slower, more focused. I’m able to give myself Yogini rest. My dreams have been nudging me to navigate these extremes, and vibrate in the more yolky center. So much is attached to these extremes, and it’s a frightening road to be on.

My dreams are revealing more and more symbolism. The more I am open to the symbolism, the more arcane and clearly mystical they are. Last nights dream was so powerful.

I’m at my friend Kira’s Yoga class-which is taking place in a wherehouse near costco(?). There are lots of people there, and Alana and I are going to assist her with this big group. I am wearing my favorite stripey dress-and my body is thick. I am feeling my thicker waist, thighs, I’m embaressed a bit-but I am afraid to show it.

Standing at the front of the room waiting for people to get settled, I see my lover and his wife come in. He pretends not to see me, although I notice him. Even though she is really thin-I have this sense of immense power in myself not to be jealous, or envious. I’m fine just as I am.

The class starts, and although the energy in the room is lovely, I’m annoyed at the people who keep getting up to go to the bathroom and are opening and closing the door. The lock on the door is making a popping sound, and I feel it’s interfering with Kira’s voice. But there is nothing any of us can do besides to allow it to continue.

The class is coming to an end. I decide to go over and give my lovers wife a savasana adjustment. He’s been so compassionate and loving to her-she feels comforted, supported, I can tell. She has no idea who I am.

I go over to her, she’s already laying down. She has a blanket half over her, her head is supported by another blanket. He is totally flat next to her, unaware that I am there. My intentions are not bad, I am just there..?

I reach for her feet-one has a sock on it, the other bare. The blanket is half on her, (from the ankles up), and as I take her feet, there is an incredible amount of tension in her legs. He wakes up and is telling her to relax, she smiles, and says she is trying. Her knees are bent in an almost handicapped way. She can’t straighten out her legs completely. I hold her feet, and genty shake her legs to help her relax, but there is no softness there. Her legs are forged into place.

I look into her face now, and her smile softens. Her face relaxes, and it becomes more shadowed. I realize she is shrinking, decaying-her body and face are emaciated. As she is just bones and skin she smiles at me.

I let her go, and theres this feeling like i’ve let go of a baby bird-who’s only got some of it’s feathers, and is all awkwardness.

I’m in water. I’ve got my hands floating over my head, and my hair is grown super long. I look down, and I have a tail-or is it two? My tail isn’t clearly feather or scale. Am I half bird or fish?

I wake up.

Restoring Yourself

This evening I’ve began my dear friend Alana’s Restorative Teacher Training.

Today has been a pretty momentous day in the life of my Yoga practice.

I started out by oversleeping, and going to teach my first class in over 1 month. I was incredibly nervous about this, and felt totally blank as to what I would teach. As I dropped into the earth at Lulu’s and squeezed the bellows of the harmonium, I knew I was back home, and the voice came through-stronger, more rooted then before.

The clear message was, continue to polish this facetof your life practice, it’s part of nourishing your whole process.

As I returned this afternoon to begin Alana’s training-I was experiencing a funny, naughty resistence. I like to call this ‘pushing against the MA’ in the wrong way. Rather then listening to the clear communications, I push in the wrong direction, and hurt myself in the process.

This usually manifests itself in clear situations of not listening to my intuition, or charging through things waving a sword, heads dropping. The mad crazy baby Kali I like to call her.

The difference is now that I know who she is, she doesn’t get as far. So hearing and seeing her this afternoon, I chuckled, and knew I’d be heading to meet my dear friend at 5pm.

Restorative Yoga is pure bliss.

It feels like the most secure sensation of being held, and as I drop into the poses, I’m amazed at the clarity and power at which my inner river runs in the stillness. As I observe my thoughts, it’s even funnier how I can allow myself to go into the ‘negative’ as the observer, and not become entangled or identified with the possibilities. This suspended state I suppose could be called meditation, but I’m not sure.

As I part my way through the curtain of ‘darkness’, I feel myself stepping into the river. In the stillness of Restorative Yoga, I get to sense the subtleties of the currents, where my Vinyasa practice churns the sea of milk inside of me.

I’m excited to sink into the currents with Alana and the community this weekend, and see what will reveal itself!