Everybody in this world has a big “but”. I wanna talk about your big “but”. I wanna talk about the thing that keeps you from committing fully, from living fully, from speaking your truth; the thought that keeps you hedging your bets and hemming and hawing.
Chris Chavez is finished Vancouver’s Teacher Training level 1 and the teachers-to-be are DEADLY good. It’s going to get wild up in here, I’m telling you. Authentic, hilarious, creative. I’m kind of surprised I still have a job.
There is a thread that occasionally runs through their discussion and it came up today during the difference between active and passive language. Active commands, of course, tell people to do stuff [not something we're generally very comfortable with], and passive language invites people to feel/investigate/notice stuff. Passivity sneaks in teaching in other ways, by way of using infinitives as commands in disguise ["lifting your arms overhead, extending out through your arms" &c.] or even describing the actions of the pose as if they’re happening to somebody else ["the back leg straightens, the arms reach overhead"]. PARENTHETICAL BLOG READER EXERCISE: If you practice yoga, notice the way these different sorts of language work on your body.
Generally speaking we’re not comfy with active commands, because, ew, commands. We don’t want to be bossy. And we know what it feels like to arrive on the mat after being told what to do all day long. I get it, I do. Women especially don’t want to be bossy and so many of us have raised passive-aggressive behaviour to a high art: “You may notice that the back leg loses some power if it is not fully engaged. If you wish to, consider engaging the back leg more fully. A little bit. Sort of. Never mind, I didn’t say anything.” As opposed to: “Straighten your back leg fully”. What is the difference, if there is a difference? Is one way of speaking ever appropriate for teaching….anything, never mind yoga?
People keep asking
“What was it like?” I say, “It
changed everything”.
The spiders appear
much smaller here in darkest
Canuckistan.
Remember: Be Here Now.
Even if you are, sadly, not
still in Maui.
What am I doing writing Haiku Haikus when I’m on the ol’ futon back in Canada’s frosty autumnal clutches? I had some pics left on the camera and I also wanted to synopsize [if possible, criminy] the insights of the week in some sort of intelligent way without gassing on and on about the fruit and the scenery. Not that it isn’t rad to do that but some people started to narrow their eyes at me a little and I realized that if you can’t *go* to Maui, for whatever reason, it’s not exactly equivalent to just have your hippie friends TELL you about it.
Road rage still exists.
It’s more like, “Oh, bro, COME ON”
and a lazy wave.
Avocado is
so ripe, it’s guac before it
even hits the bowl.
May technique and the
thinky brainstuff be always
subsumed in the heart.
Finally, a nude beach.
I was starting to wonder
what was wrong with them.
At the end of every cycle [e.g. New Years', income tax return filing, SuperBowl Sunday] it is considered yogically appropriate to ponder what you are grateful for in the preceding time period. Well, my blog overfloweth. I’m super grateful that you can live very easily on what
Skeeter, Jayanti and Geordie at the coconut truck
Geordie would call Road Guava and coconuts sold out of the back of trucks. I’m grateful for the peculiarly Hawai’ian affectation of taking every pop song ever written and “hulaizing” it. I’m grateful that the Colts slaughtered Arizona this afternoon/evening. I’m grateful for my first Chakorasana and my first Eka Hasta Urdhva Dhanurasana dropbacks under Leanne’s expert tutelage. And I’m terribly, terribly pleased that this may be the greatest yoga experience, and one of the greatest experiences period of my life thus far.
In the spirit of the Costa Rica Haikus, feel free to skip to the section that best describes you. (more…)
On the phone with Dad:
“We never thought we’d get there
Until we arrived there”
Impossible dreams
Come to life in rented Cobalts.
Staring out windows.
How many of the
best things in your life can you
absorb in one day?
Aloha, Metta-heads! Coming atcha at dawn on a Thursday, after listening to the roosters and the cows get up, I realize I still don’t like
Leanne on the lanai, and yes, that is the ocean
sunrise very much [even here on Maui] but it sounds very dramatic and romantic.
Why am I up, then? Well, we’re engaged in a part of John’s re-creation of Ram Dass’ Bhagavad Gita course at Naropa University in 1974. [RD's book Paths to God is based on same]. And every good yogi knows that tapasya is part of practice, so we’ve temporarily given up coffee, prepared foods, and sugar [insanely easy to do on Maui BTW, we'd pretty much done it already] and are sleeping from 9 to 5 [what a way to make a living]. John encouraged us to do a little mini-tapasya for the duration of the intensive, which is only 3 days, so it all seems very reasonable and natural.
Except. It makes yrs truly wonder, since Krishna is abundantly clear in the Gita that He is present in ALL things: is he not present in a cup of coffee? Does he step out for a breath of fresh air when I sleep in? Is he, say, present in a Wal-Mart? Does his divine blue presence pervade the House of Representin’? I have never understood why we make God this all-pervasive complete manifestation and then pretend like He cares about what’s in our fridges.
As you can see, dear readers, I still have my critical thinking cap on, even in the midst of a reverential and deep practice. And frankly, I’m so groovin’ on the manifest here in one of the most beautiful places on Earth that it seems counterintuitive NOT to enjoy every single one of Krishna’s offerings, including this decadent oceanside sleep, punctuated with gecko-calls and palm-rustling. (more…)
I’m pretty sure this is my new favourite movie. I watched it a couple of months ago but its genius only just descended to meet me when we rewatched the other night.
As an aside, I am an obsessive rewatcher. I’m not content until I memorize all the dialogue of a movie so I can then irritatingly repeat it at only vaguely contextually related times to my friends, who are already sick of said movie having been forced to rewatch it WITH me for the duration.
So we rewatch Kung Fu Panda and my God, it’s beautiful. Apart from the pure aesthetic satisfaction at some excellent animated mise en
An unlikely hero
scène and some kickass sound editing, I’m blown away by the fact that it’s basically a yoga class. The best kind of yoga class: a hilarious, passionate, physically challenging, heartwarming one. The kind that lets you walk away thinking, Wow, something really happened there. Only it’s a movie. An animated movie. What’s the connection, you, my edumacated blogreadership ask?
I was chatting with some of the YYCCTT immersion students when Chris was last in town and we were discussing my ambivalence towards the Bhagavad Gita. Yes, it’s true, I can really take the BG or leave it. I read it years ago and it left me actively cold, especially the bits about women. I’m on my way to a Gita intensive with John and Ram Dass and I’m hoping that in spite of their uterally-challenged status they can lay some more insights on me; after all, that’s what I paid for; I promise to be as open-minded as I can be. In the meantime, it remains opaque. It actually remains opaque in the same way that a lot of these Dramatic Princely Hero Saves The Day stories leave me cold. So much overblown language, so irrelevant to my circumstances, which are neither princely nor heroic. I have rarely been inspired by such stories. It just occurred to me that this might be why Tolkien is so inspiring to a certain segment of the population, but perhaps that’s a post for another day. (more…)
To give you an idea of the amount of arguably wasted synapses that fry themselves nobly to create this blog, I have been vacillating for
TOO MUCH ROCK....FOR ONE HAND
over a week about whether to combine all these different topics into one blog post or to split them up topically and generate a post each. Many a lobe-crunching walk to and from Yaletown has been spent pondering the above, while I eat all my lipgloss off. It’s a universal problem, the eating-your-own-lips-while-thinking thing. I’m going to go ahead and just mash them up, I suppose I can extricate them later if desired, but in the spirit of the Sjanz Life Simulator [PATENT PENDING!] I’ll let you read them in the circumstances that they present themselves to me in my fevered little head.
Mmmm...people...
In addition to my continuing schedule at the YYoga locations, I’m honoured [and stoked] to be starting to teach at Yoga For The People in Gastown. What does that mean, exactly, you may ask? Ah, the blog community…so inquisitive and detailed. I like your style. What? Oh, yes. YFTP is a pay-what-you-can studio for those of you wishing to get a great practice who, for whatever reason [location, $$$, &c.] are not able to attend class at other studios. Of course my feelings wouldn’t be hurt if you simply followed me from studio to studio, like a Grateful Dead fan but with somewhat more clarity. Tell your student friends! Tell your friends who are in-between jobs! Kick everybody’s butt who used money as an excuse for not practicing! This place at their suggestion donation rate is now about the same as a movie matinee. Srsly. You can’t afford NOT to go.
This pic is from the NYC inspiration for YFTP: this model of business, let alone yoga studio, is very exciting and they’ve had success on both coasts in the States. Time to show the world that Vancouver is world class when it comes to offering a paradigm-shifting yoga experience! I’ll be there on Mondays at 4 and Fridays at 12:30 starting in mid September. Keep an eye on their website and maybe even follow them on this mysterious Twitter business if you’re into that, or join their Facebook group.
Well yo yo yiggity yo, as the BFF in “Juno” says, I think wisely. Here’s me poking my pointy little head up after diving deep through layers and layers of yogic craziness, including the ol’ certification exam [which, whoa]. I’m literally in between my greatest teachers as the 3 day therapeutics training with John concludes and Immersion III with Chris commences. Don’t tell Chris this but I packed almost all the homeworks from 6 weeks into after dinner on Monday and tonight. My typing fingers are sore.
Today marked my first unassisted Urdhva Dhanurasana to standing, and my first assisted Handstand to Urdhva dropover. And then my second and third. This week marked my first Kala Bhairavasana attempt, which yielded me doing it backwards [which is way harder TBH] and my first motions towards Valakhilyasana. In addition to my typing fingers, my obliques and forearms are sore.
And of course Flow Yoga reopened, the most anticipated diva in YYoga’s harem of superstar studios. Variously described as “yoga heaven” and “a space station”, the place is cool, ginormous, and crammed full to bursting with great hearts and brilliant minds, including a whole passel of wellness staff, ready to palpate you into oblivion at a moment’s notice. Maybe I should see them about my fingers, obliques and forearms.
In honour of my 33rd birthday, one month ago today
But seriously folks. Is this thing on? This summer has been a workout of spirit more than any other body part. By which I mean the aspects of myself that are being tested are not the physical [although 14 classes a week definitely make my feet a bit punchy] but my ability to abide in a place of spirit while facing a pendulous email inbox and a hyperactive BlackBerry, while navigating the seemingly random and exquisitely pointless Granville Street construction, while taking notes on treating fibromyalgia while my eyelids are so heavy from unfiltered sake that they blur the already illegible text I’m trying to create. What is this vigour that arrives where no vigour should be? What is hauling my butt out of lovely bed every morning to go hand out nametags and practice fascia massage?
John, as is his wont, was disarmingly perceptive in his ability to dial into exactly what we are accessing when we attempt to teach and to heal…and what fire is there when we choose to be more disciplined in our study and commitment. Man, I don’t know where I’m going to get the juice to assist for 4 days looking at people’s feet but I am completely confident that it will happen. And as I expand what I believe is both possible AND desirable, my soul’s fortitude is increased and reinforced. So as I keep leaning on a bigger energy, hoping against hope that when Stevie Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely” comes blaring out of the Sony DreamMachine tomorrow at 6:30 and I have to pick through the foyer table’s change pile for the “Add Fare” to use my 1-zone transit pass to get to Burnaby, it’ll all feel very natural and in fact quite pleasant and exciting.
This is grace, because it will be all of those things, and the less I try to finagle it into some sort of ideal balanced diet of work and rest, te more the work becomes the rest itself. I guess it’s the difference between doing a million abdominal crunches and Headstand. The strength [virya] is also the courage to let things be zany, to be upside down and just address the upside-down-ness on its own merits without hardening or putting up little tree-fort walls against spirit. As long as I can remember what I’m doing this for [smrti] I will feel myself borne along on a cushion of brightness, hardly holding myself up at all. This is being supported by the “muscle” of the soul. The more you work it, the stronger it becomes.
An ominous call from the government reminded me that Big Rock Fridays have not been adhering to their CanCon requirements. Just kidding. This week’s BRF is brought to you by student requests, and assisted by Resident Canuckistani Rock Expert M, late into the evening last night.
“Heart of Gold”, Neil Young
I wish this was a real guitar. It would probably be super uncomfortable.
“Rock N Roll Duty”, Kim Mitchell
“Lovin’ Every Minute Of It”, Loverboy [HELLZ YEAH]
“You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet”, BTO
“Fly By Night”, Rush
“We’re Here For A Good Time (Not A Long Time)”, Trooper
“Closer To The Heart”, Rush
“Cordelia”, Tragically Hip [If you ever wanted to hear the sound of the Sjanz' high school career, this is how far down it really was]
“You May Be Right”, The Grapes Of Wrath
“Wheat Kings”, Tragically Hip [So many band camp slow dances]
“Angel Eyes”, Jeff Healey [shout out to my brother and sister]
“Lost Together”, Blue Rodeo
“Fiddlers Green”, Tragically Hip
“Helpless”, Neil Young
The weather’s not really cooperating with my vision for this week’s BRF but I know from experience we will find a way to be impossibly sweaty in spite of the clouds. This one has an old-school 70s feel and includes riffs that make me reflexively smile and air-guitar whenever I hear them. And Foghat. Srsly. So great. Always makes me think of Wiley Wiggins with his big headphones on.
“Summer Of ’69″, Bryan Adams
M in Parksville
“Raise A Little Hell”, Trooper
“I Believe In A Thing Called Love”, The Darkness
“Crosstown Traffic”, Jimi Hendrix
“Slow Ride”, Foghat [for as long as we can put up with that ridiculous outro]
“Listen To The Music”, The Doobie Brothers
“Rocky Mountain Way”, Joe Walsh
“Hot Fun In The Summertime”, Sly and the Family Stone
“Rough Boy”, ZZ Top
“Summer Breeze”, Seals and Crofts
“Voodoo Chile Blues”, Jimi Hendrix
“Dream Weaver”, Gary Wright
“Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door”, Bob Dylan
“I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow [Instrumental]“, John Hartford