Sankalpah Yoga

Summer

admin — Mon, 31 May 2010 22:41:48 +0000

DROPPING BACK

By Edward Vilga

Vilga Dropback Event 2009 from Edward Vilga on Vimeo.

Edward Vilga’s award-winning essay was published in “40 Things to Do When You Turn 40″

Last month, my local optical chain wouldn’t just sell me another box of contact lenses since over a year had passed since my eyes were last checked. I can’t remember the last time my prescription changed—and I’ve been wearing contacts for at least twenty years—but I knew there was no way around the fifteen minute exam.

Sure enough, I learned that my eyes were exactly the same as they were two years ago. At the end of the exam, however, the well-intentioned Vision Care Specialist shocked me by warning that I would probably soon be needing reading glasses. “It’s just something that happens when you get to be around your age.” She began explaining things further, giving some reasons why this was part and parcel of reaching the advanced age of forty-three. Motivated by professional kindness, her demeanor nonetheless revealed her certainty that my physical decline was not only inevitable, but also well underway.

Eight years ago, when I was a mere thirty-five, my life more or less fell apart. A long-term relationship ended suddenly and violently, resulting in tremendous personal and financial chaos at a pivotal moment in my career. For a long-time, I felt like I was sleepwalking.

Growing up, I was your classic bookish malcontent, prowling my way through my local library, desperately searching for some kind of meaning in my adolescent life. (Even now it’s rather frightening to think that if I were born a decade or two later, I might have wound up a goth.) Instead, I gained a smattering of library book-based knowledge about psychology, philosophy and even the occult, lingering a bit longer on whatever seemed more esoteric and exotic (and therefore, I assumed, more likely to be helpful towards surviving suburbia). And so, somewhere in my early teens, I devoured my first books about yoga.

In spite of myself, I was a reluctant, latent athlete, able to try (and sometimes succeed) at the strange poses I saw in Swami Vishnudevananda’s COMPLETE ILLUSTRATED BOOK OF YOGA. But drawn as I was as an adolescent to yoga, I never began a steady, consistent physical practice. It wasn’t the time.

But then at thirty-five, it was. With my life unraveled, wandering through my gritty hipster Manhattan gym, I stumbled into a yoga class. I’m not sure why I chose to attend—probably just a whimsical desire to contrast my regular traditional workout. In fact, I’m pretty sure I sauntered in with the class already in progress.

I remember being sore the next day, particularly in my thighs. And I remember being shocked about that, given that I was a runner and lived in a fifth-floor walk-up. Because or in spite of that, I came back to another class. And then another. And then another after that.

Soon I discovered the teachers who suited me best—the most challenging ones, but with either a sense of humor or irony—no granola, Kool-Aid drinkers for me. And I found one in particular, a yogic Janis Joplin, whose energy and enthusiasm I found totally electrifying.

Within two years, I was enrolled in teacher training, not really so much intending to become a teacher, but more because I was hooked on the rush and intensity of my own yoga practice. Now, more or less a yoga junkie, forever on the hunt for the next yogic high and physical challenge, I needed to go deeper. I craved more mystic thrills.

I’ve always been able to do a pose referred to as “Wheel Pose” – in Sanskrit, Urdhva Dhanurasana. Basically, you lie down on the floor, bend your knees and plant your feet. Reaching your hands besides your ears, you press down, straighten your arms, and lift everything besides your hands and feet off the ground. The body takes on a big bow shape, resulting in a major back-bend.

There are several different kinds of potential obstacles to achieving the pose. For some women, it’s an arm strength issue, while for other muscular guys, the shoulders are too tight to allow the arms to straighten enough. For people of both genders, however, often the obstacle is more psychological: opening the energetic heart-center of the body this way simply feels too emotionally vulnerable.

While I could always do a decent Wheel, no matter what emotional issues I might be having, the daredevil in me became fascinated with a virtuoso variation called “Dropping Back.” Standing, one simply falls backward into wheel pose. It’s only there that capital F Fear met me head-on.

You learn dropping back first by being assisted in the falling backward motion. In other words, you are “dropped back.” The first person who dropped me back was my Janis Joplin instructor. The instructor faces you, his or her leg between yours, framing your hips and back as they dip you backwards. The move has a feeling of a tango-like dip to it. They are supporting you in a vital and intimate way, and you are trusting them not to let you crash to the ground and bust open your head.

Being dropped back by a yoga teacher you trust completely has an element of risk and excitement to it, but it’s nothing compared to dropping back on your own. You are falling backwards, trusting that somehow the floor will be there and that your arms will support you. Logically, you know that both your arms and the floor can generally be counted on…but still that open-hearted backward plunge is terrifying.

In fact, it was only as I neared forty that I found myself ready to attempt it. I knew the floor was solid. I knew my arms were strong. But I didn’t trust something—I didn’t know what exactly—or maybe I just didn’t trust enough, period. I could never do it without the assist.

And then it started happening. At first, very awkward, leaning more to one side than the other. Many times, I’d lightly bang my head on the way down. I got better at it, despite lots of rocky, awkward splats. Extensive practicing, and more and more information about backbending in general helped, too I suppose. But honestly, I mostly learned how to just let it happen, knowing that I’d come up on the other side OK.

And after a year or two of wavering and wobbling, I’d pretty much gotten the knack of it—able to pretty much drop back whenever I was sufficiently warmed-up enough. Like a handful of other difficult poses—my party tricks as it were—I had it down.

I’m not sure where or when, but I somehow heard about a hard-core practice that particularly intrigued me: dropping back on one’s birthday…as many times as you had years to be thankful for! By this point, in a single class, I’d dropped myself back two or three times. And every now and then, in class my favorite teacher would bring me up and down rapidly four or five times or even six times, always assisted by her infallible support.

But only when I turned forty-one, was I ready and able to make the attempt on my own. Forty-one falls backward into the void.

Frankly, there’s not much to tell other than that I did it. Yes, I was drenched with sweat. Yes, I nearly conked myself out a few times in the mid-twenties and thirties (talk about a metaphor!), but I did it. And I was extremely pleased with myself.

Now we all know that yoga is supposed to be non-competitive, even with oneself. Yet nonetheless, I’m not bothered by my pride in achieving this. I could do something that once frightened me (that frightens everyone). Something beyond the range of 95% of my fellow students in their twenties and thirties. And I could do it forty-one times.

And the following year, I did it forty-two times. And then this past year forty-three. And in three months, I will be doing it forty-four times. I’d like to think that when I’m sixty or seventy, eighty or ninety, I’ll still be able to drop back once for each year I’ve lived.

I can’t help but sound a little boastful, but I didn’t make up this tradition—although I wish I had. Beyond the tremendous exhilaration and physical openness it creates, I also really like the “Fuck You” towards aging.

Rather than going easier on yourself, quietly into that good night, every year you raise the bar one notch higher. Indeed, the older you are, the more opportunities you’ve had to develop fearlessness, more chances to trust that you can fall backwards open-hearted and catch yourself. God knows, I didn’t really know that when I was thirty-five and adrift. I certainly didn’t have a clue in my twenties. It took me forty years to trust enough to even attempt falling backwards on my own.

And so when the Vision Care Specialist, in the nicest possible way, cautioned me that my eyesight—make that my entire body—was degenerating moment by moment, year by year, and that there was nothing I could do about it but comparison-shop for bifocals, I could only smile.

There was no way she could know that I was in fact, getting more flexible, and more importantly, more fearless with every year. After all, she was at best thirty-two. Give her time…

Dropback Canvases 2010 from Edward Vilga on Vimeo.

For information on the canvases: pricing@EdwardVilga.com

–Edward

Sankalpah will be hosting an Edward Vilga Dropback Workshop on June 25th and a free Art Event for him on June 28th.

May

admin — Tue, 04 May 2010 02:56:47 +0000

Bigger than the sum of its parts

Sometimes the universe just wants to tell you something. I’m sure you’ve all noticed those weeks when every single yoga class you go to
is teaching the same thing… as though some greater energy is pulling all of these different strings together to tell you “work on hanuman,”
or “get over your fear of inversions.”

Right now, it’s not hanuman or inversions for me, but the idea that “the whole is bigger than the sum of its parts.”

Everything boils down to “om,” and that’s where the strings have been coming together. A student walked into my class the other day, and
nervously told me that she had never practiced yoga before. “Down dog” meant “stop eating table scraps” and “plank” was something that
conspiring pirates walked on. And “om” — I can only imagine how strange of an experience that is at the beginning of your first yoga class, ever.

When I first began to practice yoga, I was terrified of chanting and “om”ing. That seemed like the line between a physical practice and a spiritual practice, and that was one line I did not want to cross (oh, how things change). Each time “om” was chanted in a class, I’d sit there quietly and listen. Somewhere in my beginner-yogini state of
non-spirituality, I realized that the chanting of “om” in class goes beyond a personal spiritual connection. It signifies that you are there as a part of a group, that you are not just contorting your body within the boundaries of your mat, but you are contorting your body in the same way (more or less) as a community of people. And regardless of how discordant an “om” sounds at the beginning of class, there is always a bit more harmony at the end.

The “om” that starts within you is your own sound, your own personal connection to something greater. But somewhere in the midst of a really good group “om” you lose your own sound, and you fall into the vibration of the group, and realize that the community is vibrating, that you are part of something bigger.

I have been reading (a few years late, I know) Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma, as every good non-purist vegetarian, farmers-market-loving New Yorker should. Earlier today he introduced
me to the word “holon,” which apparently was created not too long ago from Greek roots to signify an “entity that from one perspective
appears a self-contained whole, and from another a dependent part.” He uses it to talk about how chickens fit into a holistic farming pattern, but you can immediately see how a noun for “a part of a
mutualistic relationship” is important. Along those lines, the term “mutualistic relationship” is a pretty good one too. Let’s say another organism lives inside of you. There are three major directions this is going: either one entity benefits while the other
is harmed (ex: a tapeworm), both entities are just going along their own happy way without much positive or negative impact on each other, or both entities benefit from the relationship (ex: those bacteria in your intestines that help you digest food). “Holon.” I like it.

That word may have further use in my life. I volunteer as the Communications Director for the FIGMENT participatory arts events and exhibition series. One of the remarkable things that happens at FIGMENT is that you see these mutualistic relationships developing among art pieces and creative endeavors. We just released a video to
the public (at www.figmentproject.org), and in the video, our Curatorial Director Audrey Boguchwal reminded me of one of my favorite moments from last year. There was this beautiful sculpture called
HiveMind that you could sit inside throughout the entire summer. But for our three-day event, it was paired with a musical piece called Gamelatron. The pairing was incredible.

The two art pieces are each incredible and awe-worthy… but by uniting them for those few days, participants were invited to experience something that was greater than each or both pieces. I remember taking off my head-set off for a few brief moments, and being rocked into meditation by the synergy of the two art pieces (and just a few weeks ago I discovered that someone took a photo of that magical
moment). Indeed, one of the core reasons that I work on FIGMENT is because of how many people are able to discover that their own creative energy can be a part of a larger creative energy – that our
whole is bigger than, or at least different, than the sum of our
parts.

These are my musings. You don’t have to come to the same conclusions as I do, but I’ll offer you an invitation. The next time you chant “om” in a yoga class, listen for your own sound, and then listen as
you stop being able to identify which vibration is your own. And the next time you walk amidst a group of strangers (say on a city street), take the time to notice just how many people you pass. Notice that all of those other beings make up your community, that you have the opportunity to interact with each and everyone, to have some small impact on each and every one. From there… your actions are your own.

April

admin — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 17:47:29 +0000

Warning: Yoga is an identity thief.

Without ego, what’s left? Yoga challenges us to leave I-Me-Mine behind and observe the world with bare attention.

By Laurie Niehoff

Consider yourself a yogi? Call the authorities—you’ve been robbed. Your likes and dislikes, your litany of accomplishments, your defense mechanisms, your judgments, your stories, your way of seeing the world—all the things that make you “You” have begun to disappear one by one. And in their place? Emptiness. Space. No self. Yoga has a way of taking I-Me-Mine obsessions and smashing them to smithereens.

The truth is, to be this powerful, yoga needs a co-conspirator: you. You have to be willing to see things as they really are (vidya), without the baggage of opinions, judgments, narrative. And you have to have the courage to let go of fixed ideas of identity—you have give up your “self.”

Letting go is an ongoing journey.
Michael Stone, whose book “The Inner Tradition of Yoga” addresses yoga as a journey of letting go, notes how much harder it is to let go than to focus on growth. “Taking on the new is always easier than letting go of what is old, because what is historical is what is known and comfortable. …The first step in working with our conditioned minds and bodies is seeing what is old in the first place. Then we can let it go. We have a home in the present moment whenever we arrive.”

Stone relates that old yoga joke: that if you want to hide something, hide it in the present moment because no one will ever find it. Yet powerful things happen when we reside in the here and now. When we’re in the present moment, letting go happens naturally as all else falls away effortlessly—the past, the future, expectations, emotional baggage. We connect with our center, our stillness, our divinity—in essence, the present moment is our innermost guru because it connects us to our true, openhearted nature.

We can continue to allow the mind to create distractions that take us away from the present moment, or we can begin to sit with whatever comes up and experience the very moment where our life is unfolding. Yoga gives us the tools to experience this one-pointed awareness through asana practice, meditation and pranayama, each of which play a role in teaching us to watch and listen to ourselves and the world around us, moment to moment, without any attachments or expectations.

What happens when we don’t let go?
A consistent yoga practice keeps both our bodies and minds flexible so that we’re more fluid, and can allow experiences to move through us. When we’re rigid and hold on to ideas and opinions of how things should be rather than let go into the reality of how things are, our inflexible minds lead to strong emotions—referred to in Astanga yoga as the six poisons: desire, anger, delusion, greed, envy and sloth. These “enemies of the heart” result from a mind that operates tightly, stressfully, in the grooves of samskaras or habitual patterns.

Habits don’t have to be our destiny.
The six poisons are only symptoms of the five klesas described in Astanga yoga. The five klesas, which are derived from the Yoga-Sutra attributed to Patanjali, are the deeper psychological issues that are the root causes of suffering (duhkha):
Avidya (not seeing things as they are)
Raga (attachment)
Dvesa (aversion)
Asmita (the story of I me, and mine)
Abhinivesa (the thirst for further existence).

These five factors keep us stuck in I-Me-Mine, the dual state of existence that creates separateness and alienation by perpetuating the concept of a self “in here” that perceives an object “out there.” In the Yoga-Sutra, Patanjali advocates a two-fold method to help us live in the now of non-dualism: practice (abhyasa) to cultivate new patterns in the mind, and detachment (vairagya), letting go of habitual patterns. Says Stone: “Letting go of a self-centered response to reality brings us into a more realistic, clear, and grounded relationship with life, which manifests in intelligent action.”

This letting go may happen gradually, class by class, asana by asana, as we see bits and pieces of old ourselves slipping away, revealing a calmer, more tranquil demeanor. It may happen suddenly, as we breathe through a difficult pose and have a breakthrough, a release so deep it transforms not just our body but also our point of view—a shift in the hips or shoulders can literally shift our posture and change our perception of the world.

Let go to live now.
Want to feel more vividly alive? Let go of the illusions of familiarity and security and dare to be in the present moment. The more we practice bringing the mind to one-pointed focus on the mat, the more the mind is able to do it off the mat. As Dainin Katagiri says in “Each Moment Is the Universe”:

“When you see your life through and through and stare at reality without blinking, that is called realization of the self. To live in peace and harmony, become yourself as you really are in the present moment as it really is. This is very beautiful.”

This is what yoga does: it strips away the confines of “self” and “ego” and leaves us with our moment-to-moment experience. With the bare attention of beginner’s mind, unhindered by habits and untethered by strings of attachments, we can be with our lives as they unfold, one breath moving seamlessly into the next.

Laurie Niehoff teaches Restorative/Pranayama on Fridays at 6:15pm.

Why Restore?

admin — Sun, 10 Jan 2010 13:53:30 +0000

I was on a retreat last summer where we were doing two very vigorous asana classes a day. Some of us, with me at helm, requested one day of restorative. One of my friends on the retreat, also one of the funniest guys i know, said, and I’m paraphrasing here, “I hate restorative. It always makes me want to go out and shoot someone afterwards.” My very wise teacher ended up compromising and giving us an asana class with some restorative poses at the end. My wisecracking friend admitted that it was really nice and he actually felt better afterwards (and, he didn’t even mention feeling like shooting someone!).

My friend’s reaction to restorative is not uncommon, especially among us overly ambitious New Yorker types. Whereas some people love restorative and look forward to lounging in the poses for many minutes longer than you’re able to in a regular asana class, others find it very difficult to be still. But, instead of oversimplifying and presenting two types of people, I would argue that we can all have our vigorous asana class AND our restorative class, and still be happy. In fact, we can even be content. Isn’t this what the yoga practice is actually about– this ability to calm the mind and be still? And how are we to accomplish this with so many things swirling around in our head, and so much pent up energy from the day (no doubt a result of repressed feelings)? Again, I would like to merge the two camps. In the west we like to focus on the asanas, because we want to be fit! And look good in our yoga clothes! In fact the Yoga Sutras don’t even mention any poses other than the seated meditation posture. Scant documentation of the postures was found in the 14th and 17th centuries, and it wasn’t until the 19th century that scholars came across a more in depth book on the postures. Here’s the thing, and most of us already know this, but the asanas were invented so that you could sit comfortably– so that you wouldn’t have to worry about that ache in the knee or tightness in the shoulder when you’re meditating. Ahhh, so there it is. One can have the vigorous asana practice AND the stillness. They actually GO together.

The benefits of restorative yoga are vast. If you allow yourself this relaxation, everything slows– the heart rate, metabolism, rate of breathing, blood pressure, and even brain wave patterns. In “Relax and Renew” Judith Lasater writes:

“Anthropologists tell us the body that experiences stress has not changed much over the millions of years of being human. Our ancestors had the same anatomical and physiological characteristics as we who drive freeways and communicate via the information superhighway. We have an ancient body subjected to a modern problem: living with chronic stress.

The antidote to stress is relaxation. To relax is to rest deeply. This rest is different from sleep. Deep states of sleep include periods of dreaming which increase muscular tension, as well as other physiological signs of tension. Relaxation is a state in which there is no movement, no effort, and the brain is quiet.”

And, for those of you that experience pain in a yoga pose and think that’s what is supposed to happen in yoga class (the old “no pain, no gain” mentality), you might want to reconsider and try a restorative class. This is why Iyengar invented the restorative practice– because in his teachings he came across people who experienced pain in a pose, and he wanted to help them get the benefits of the pose without the pain. I’ll say that again– YOU GET THE BENEFITS OF THE POSE WITHOUT THE PAIN.

So let yourself restore. At least once a week. It would argue it will actually improve your sweaty asana practice.

–Gabriella

SPIRITUAL ACTIVISM 2010: THE YAMAS AS A MANIFESTO FOR THE NEW YEAR

admin — Tue, 05 Jan 2010 02:49:30 +0000

The eight limbs (constituents) of yoga described in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, the ancient text written over 2000 years ago, represent physical and ethical practices that remain timeless and immediately relevant to cultivating a life of meaning and vitality in the modern world. The yamas are the first of these ethical disciplines of yoga, reorienting the mind, providing a context for inward reflection, and embracing positive action.

At the time of the New Year, the stark winter environment of pure white melting to soft grays and early twilight receding into darkness may illuminate darkness within ourselves. The opportunity for renewal and rejuvenation is presented by engaging in the yamas as a means to express your thoughts, consciousness, and actions via an uncontrived inner reflection of self-awareness, yoga darshana.

The yamas, ethical disciplines, are:

AHIMSA: nonviolence

SATYA: truth

ASTEYA: nonstealing, honesty

BRAHMACHARYA: continence, self-restraint

APARIGRAHA: noncoveting, nonhoarding, nonpossessiveness

Much of the conflict, pain, ignorance, and suffering in the world today and within our individual personalities stem from greed, desire, and attachment brought about by violence, untruth, dishonesty, lack of self-restraint, and covetousness.

The change in perspective afforded by the yamas fosters spiritual activism for the individual and society to cultivate a moral code of concern for each other and the entire cycle of life.AHIMSA, nonviolence, embraces the power of love and compassion, transcending grudges and breaking down emotional and political walls. Ahimsa brings forgiveness in relationships, and when we might feel wronged and slighted by others it prevents us from getting stuck in a sense of injustice and righteous anger. SATYA, truth – truthfulness in thought, word and deed – reminds us that negative words and actions can be replaced by the ability to see the truth and forgive the ignorance and pain that causes negative actions in others, creating a new and positive interaction rather than perpetuating negativity, malice, violence, and war. ASTEYA, nonstealing, reorients the human perspective on taking what belongs to others without permission and using something for a different purpose than intended. Asteya frees us from dissatisfaction and eliminates the desire to possess and enjoy what satya can tell us is not rightly ours. APARIGRAHA, freedom from hoarding, collecting, and taking what one does not really need or require, is another apect of asteya.Aparigraha signifies faith in the future and ones own ability to sustain oneself and be satisfied in the moment.Aparigraha compels a critical examination of actions that misappropriate, mismanage, or misuse “resources” or people, or constitute a breach of trust. BRAHMACHARYA, self-restraint – continence of body, speech, and mind – directs ones energy and vitality wisely to fight injustice and deepen cultural and intellectual life. It urges us to develop interpersonal and sexual relationships that are meaningful and imbued with emotional context and respect: for ourselves, our friends and our partners, as well as strangers that we may encounter in our daily lives and those far away that we may not even imagine.

The yamas bring sensitivity, a calm, gentle demeanor, and wisdom to the consideration of action, providing the opportunity to consider the broader consequences of our actions and creating a milieu in which to change them, to choose the path of peace and seek solutions that promote harmony and understanding between people and across cultures and borders. The yamas incorporate the dietary ethics of vegetarianism, concern for the creatures over whom humans are able to wield power, as well as the ethics of anticonsumerism, concern for people who are less fortunate and live in conditions of poverty and slave-wage labor that allow wealth and cheap goods to flow in our own lives.The yamas cause us to reconsider the need to mine radioactive elements or develop factory farms and industry on native and wild lands, displacing people and animals while destroying virgin forests and sensitive ecosystems. The yamas consider and find unacceptable the consequences of churning up the oceans, deserts, rainforests, and jungles in an endless quest for toxic fuels and limited resources to feed a cycle of consumption that cannot sustain itself as it plummets the planet into a tailspin of global warming, mass extinction, cultural destruction, health crisis, mass starvation, and political and social strife. The yamas compel us to seek sustainable and peaceful solutions to the complex and controversial issues that face us in our lives, relationships, and sociopolitical futures.

Calls to violence, whether heard in the halls of government or the chambers of our hearts, often stem from ignorance and breed the fear necessary to advance personal or political goals based on misplaced desire, greed and a sense of righteous justice. Freedom from fear – abhaya – and freedom from anger – akrodha – are essential to generating a nonviolent orientation and faith in oneself and the future. In the words of B.K.S. Iyengar: “Violence is bound to decline when men learn to base their faith upon reality and investigation rather than upon ignorance and supposition.” The yamas demand that we seek truth and wisdom fearlessly and with love in our hearts, cultivate appropriate relationships and practices, and sustain our needs simply with careful regard for the effects of our actions and choices.

Here, I provide you with a list of personal resolutions to consider for the New Year, 2010:

Be kind, compassionate, generous and loving. Speak well of others. Engage in deep breathing and deep thinking. Work hard and appreciate the fruits of honest labor. Turn off the lights when you leave the room. Think about what it means to buy clothing or goods “Made in Bangladesh”, or Pakistan, or Nicaragua, or Indonesia, and who made those items and how they live. Think about whether you need more when you have enough, or more than enough, already. Avoid engaging in physical or spiritual bulimia. Don’t buy food that will rot in the refrigerator just like it did last week. Eat nourishing food grown sustainably and nonviolently. Don’t overeat, particularly foods that are filled with sugar and processed ingredients, that may then lead you to dwell on negative, self-deprecating body images or regurgitate in a cycle of self mutilation. Eat in a way that promotes true health and vitality. Move with joy and exercise well. Cultivate meaningful and healthy relationships and activities, including the relationship with yourself and your relationship with nature and its inhabitants. Don’t seek out the next overstimulating gadget or experience in the wake of feeling unfulfilled by the last. Don’t coerce people – whether through force, guilt, or charm – to do things your way for your benefit. Take the smaller and less appealing item when sharing with others.Offer a generous amount when splitting the bill. Give back that extra dollar the cashier mistakenly gave you when making change. End your work day at a reasonable time and give time to your health, friends, family, relationships, and community. Bring your own bag to the grocery store and recycle what you can. Live well in gratitude for the abundance of everything life has to offer. Make your own list and recall the yamas as we move into the New Year, and make this the year in which we truly transform our lives and our world.

–Eden

A Fresh Start

admin — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 03:56:49 +0000

For the last 10 years practicing yoga has been such a great addition to my life. It has only been within the last 3 years that it has helped me through some major pivotal points in my life. Learning about letting go and enjoying the journey on and off the matt has helped me to grow in yoga, and the growth has opened my practice up to more than just asana, it has helped me to connect and look at each situation that arises in my life as a fresh start.

The last four months has been quite a challenge for me. Recently finding out I was pregnant and in the same time trying to grow my massage business, get married and trying to find a good time to start teaching yoga after my teacher training. Slowly, my energy diminished and I was barely practicing. Maybe, once a week and that was exhausting. They say that the first trimester is always the worst. Along with exhaustion, my doctor told me to take it easy because there were some reasons to be cautious. So…taking it easy, turned into slowly becoming lazy and eating whatever my body was craving. Mentally, I was struggling with the change of pace that has all of a sudden taken over me. I’ve have always been on the go, having an active lifestyle, eating a healthy diet. Suddenly, I was a completely different person. I didn’t even feel motivated to take a yoga class. It is truly amazing what being pregnant can do to a person in the first 3-4 months. But, in my heart, and my beliefs, I kept a positive outlook that this will change and I needed to be patient. Patience…something yoga has really helped me to learn, and learn well. You can’t force anything, you have to let time take it’s course and it did.

Right around the beginning of December, it was like I got my life back in gear. Energy was lifted, cravings were gone and there was the urge to be back on the mat as quickly as I could! The first step I took into Sankalpah filled me with overwhelming joy and calmness. I felt like I was home. I missed it! Everything about it. The studio, faces, music, most of all, my beautiful teachers. My sense of belonging suddenly filled me up inside, this indescribable energy. The belonging was more from within, but being around the people at sankalpah, and the energy that everyone carries, helped bring me to awareness. Yoga has taught me to find myself, not from the outside in, but from the inside out. Walking into the studio that day, felt like I stepped inside myself for the first time, all over again! Those moments, when you are so present, that you have discovered yourself so deep within, it helps you to grow to that next level of awareness. Those moments can be easily lost when you close yourself off to growth and experiences by accidentally letting your emotions get the best of you. That day made me realize my life is changing drastically and there is always going to be something new arising. But if I can remember to come back to myself, the self within, and breath deeply, I will find a fresh start with everything that comes my way.

Happy New Year Yogis! Hope to teach you in a class in 2010!

–Robin

Diving Into Play

admin — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 19:00:02 +0000

“The dog was created especially for children. He is the god of frolic.”- Henry Ward Beecher

“The sage perceives the universe as a Cosmic Playground, and life in it as a Cosmic Dance.” – Swami Venkatesananda’s translation of YOGA VASISHTHA

Last summer, I arrived with Belle to visit my friend Genevieve’s family on Shelter Island. After I opened the door to the rental car, like the people-loving animal she is, Belle happily greeted each person in the family, with particularly enthusiastic licking of the two squealing toddlers. Then, spying their swimming pool, Belle made an immediate beeline for the water. Not asking permission, but climbing right over and pretty much toppling the mesh-fence, Belle jumped into the pool and began swimming joyously. I can’t imagine that any living creature has ever been happier than Belle was splashing around that August day. (Fortunately my friend Genevieve was highly amused, telling me, “Honestly, I wish all my guests would just say ‘hello’ and then dive into the pool. It would make being a weekend hostess so much simpler.”)

I’ve taught Belle many useful commands—“Sit” and “Stay” are chief among them—that make our shared experience run more smoothly. Yet I’ve never heard of anyone training a dog to “Play” on cue.

Belle wants to dive into any body of water for the pure joy of splashing around. She’s not motivated by anything external such as a food reward or praise from me, her owner. Unlike myself, who had planned on swimming some laps later that day, she had not decided to maintain a disciplined fitness regime. It’s simpler than that. She has no motivation beyond the joy of play. In fact, when it comes to play, she’s truly a master.

For several years I taught one of the most advanced classes in New York City at the Laughing Lotus, aptly titled “Cosmic Play.” What made“Cosmic Play” so unique was really not so much that it assumed a level of physical mastery, but more that it was directed and led by the teacher and then interspersed with moments of individual creative exploration. In other words, having taught something quite specific and given several challenging variations, I would more or less encourage students to “play” with the ideas I offered on their own in whatever shapes they wished—a “freestyle” section of the class, as it were.

Interestingly, I found these moments of freedom were perhaps the most advanced aspect of the class. Some students who would zealously and bravely attempt any physical challenge whatsoever in my other classes would be utterly stymied by the idea of improvisation, of coloring outside the lines. They were so used to being told exactly what to do—and being “successful” at it—that wide-open windows of freedom paralyzed them. Simply put, they were so focused on “Getting It Right” that not only had they lost the joy of exploring, they were also stumped when asked to be even marginally creative. Adding to this, having attained the status of “advanced practitioners”, attempting something completely new and spontaneous in class meant they were now exiting their comfort zone. They risked being awkward and graceless, unable to execute a pose, or even literally toppling over on their mat. Obviously, none of these qualify as major disasters—except perhaps for their egos!—and yet this willingness to “play” became the class’s distinguishing attraction—or drawback—for students.

Dogs never have this problem. In the time it takes me to unfasten her leash, Belle can move from heeling patiently by my side to a madcap chase over an empty Evian bottle with my neighbor’s dog Dwayne. A true master of Play, Belle constantly teaches by example.

Once, just as I decided that the theme of my class was going to be“Staying Present,” I got down on my mat to work out the physical sequence but Belle wouldn’t leave me alone. She kept nuzzling me, wanting to share her toys. “Not now…Not now” I kept correcting her, growing increasingly agitated. “Not Now…Not Now…” I repeated, until I realized how unappealing and “anti-play” a mantra like “Not Now” really is—particularly when I’m prepping a class about “Staying Present.”

Then and there I saw that when it comes to play, how often and in how many different ways I’m actually saying “Not Now” to the flow of life itself. I still finding myself mired in the mentality that work is everything and that play is secondary, unimportant, and childish.

To her credit as a teacher, Belle’s persistence usually pays off. She keeps nudging my hands away from the keyboard or nuzzling me on the mat until I acquiesce and toss her toy back and forth a few times. Ultimately, she’s completely right: there’s always time for a few spontaneous rounds of fetch. If I’m not too distracted or self-involved or obsessed with my projects, Belle’s always willing to share her All Day Pass on the Cosmic Playground with me.

-Edward

Edward Vilga is teaching the Yoga of Belle Workshop on December 16.

Connections on the Page and On The Mat

admin — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 02:44:54 +0000

Before I ever stepped foot on a mat, I fell in love with poetry. I devoured Shakespeare, John Donne and Emily Dickinson while scribbling my own poems on benches; my connection to yoga came later. I took my first vinyasa yoga class at sixteen so that I could write a practical article about the practical benefits of yoga for a practical student newspaper; I went through the motions of the class, wrote the article, and placed the yoga in the attic of my mind behind other youthful debris. But even while my vinyasa yoga practice was in hibernation, I knew I’d come back to it; my first yoga teacher was a slender, tattooed Patti Smith look-alike who had something that I needed. She was gentle and spiritual and never made me feel insignificant even though my relationship with my small high school world most closely resembled the character Tracy Flick’s smug war-like campaign in the movie Election.

I was 16 and I thought that yoga was a series of stretching exercises; my first yoga teacher possessed something that I needed, something that I’d come back to.

Even in the Yoga Sutras of Paternal, we begin the journey towards truth with our connection to each other; the first limb of yoga is the yamas, which govern our relationships. How beautiful that the journey towards truth starts with our relationships to each other. For me, nowhere is our connection to each other more beautiful than in poetry. In The Big Heart, Anne Sexton writes,

“Big heart, wide as a watermelon, but wise as birth, there is so much abundance in the people I have: Max, Lois, Joe, Louise, Joan, Marie, Dawn, Arlene, Father Dunne, and all in their short lives give to me repeatedly, in the way the sea places its many fingers on the shore, again and again and they know me, they help me unravel, they listen with ears made of conch shells, they speak back with the wine of the best region. They are my staff. They comfort me.”

We feed this connection to community when we practice asana as a group; similarly, writers feed this connection when they join writing groups, and meet to critique, to free write, and to brainstorm ideas. You don’t need to be a writer to write just like you don’t need to practice yoga on a mat in a studio to do yoga. But when we do take the opportunity to explore the divine through yoga and writing, moving and writing as a group can be a blessing.

In this workshop Asana and Mystical Poetry as Tools for the Creative Writer on Saturday, December 5th at 2 p.m., I will guide students through an asana practice, we will read two selected poems as a group (including a poem by Janet Sylvester and Anne Sexton), and free write. There will be an opportunity to share what you’ve written if you’d like. Please bring a pen and a notebook, wear comfortable clothes to practice asana, and come curious; if you sign-up online or in person by December 4th, the workshop is only $20. May we sweat, write, and get in touch a little more with the light within us.

Much love,

–Renee

Renee is teaching the Asana and Mystical Poetry as Tools for the Creative Writer Workshop on December 5.

The Pilates Factor

admin — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 03:11:55 +0000

Pilates burst onto the scene about ten years ago, so what’s all the fuss about? Pilates is strict, militant, and linear. Created by Joseph Pilates to bring awareness to the breath, alignment of the spine and strengthen the deep torso and abdominal muscles.
I began my exploration into the world of Pilates almost 10 years ago, long before I ever stepped foot into a yoga studio. I loved how the breath was connected to the movement. It made me feel longer, leaner, and most of all stronger.

Core strength is the foundation of Pilates exercise. The core muscles are the deep, internal muscles of the abdomen and back. When the core muscles are strong and doing their job, as they are trained to do in Pilates, they work in tandem with the more superficial muscles of the trunk to support the spine. As you develop core strength you develop stability throughout your entire torso, pressure on the back is relieved and the body is able to move freely and efficiently.

Besides being a wonderful way to work the body, Pilates is also an excellent compliment to yoga. Both disciplines encourage the work of the pelvic floor, which also functions as part of our “core” muscles. The pelvic diaphragm, the floor of the pelvis, is the lower support of the abdominal cavity and assists in respiration as well as spine support. These muscles connect to the pubic bone in front and attach to the tailbone in back so they are extremely important for low back health. Contraction of the deep pelvic floor muscles will also help to fire the transverses abdominals, which is an extremely important stabilizer for the lower back and spine.

Joseph Pilates researched yoga while developing his method almost 100 years ago. Many of the Asana that we practice in yoga are identical in Pilates. If you are looking for a way to compliment your yoga practice…take a Pilates class (specifically with me Sunday, Nov. 15th at Sankalpah) to see what the deal is all about!

– Leah K.

Leah is Teaching the Pilates Fundamentals Workshop on November 15.

Taking Yoga With You – Wherever You Are

admin — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 17:40:24 +0000

When the Asana practice becomes such an essential part of your life, it can be scary to leave New York, as well as your favorite Yoga Studio or teacher. However, we all tend to lean to our studio practice as a place to find grounding and peacefulness, but even yoga can also become a beneficial obsession. We all know that obsessive attachment to anything can only be harmful. So yes, while we can be fans of amazing teachers and wonderful spaces to find a community, taking a holiday, leaving the city, and letting go is part of the beauty of life.

If you really can’t do without yoga, learn how to make your time on the mat exciting, accessible and detached from specific times and teachers. Anastasia and I want to take this amazing opportunity to invite you to explore the art of sequencing in an exciting, fun way that you can make yours whenever you are away, maybe on some beautiful island, or simply in a hotel room in a different state or far away country.

If your heart is aching and you just can’t find the way to truly express your feelings, learn how to open your heart, if your hips are hurting and for some reason you feel like you’re losing your connection to the ground and who you are, create some space in the 1st and 2nd chakra, if you need to get rid of some delicious spice your body wasn’t quite ready to handle, or some issue that is burning inside of your navel, simply twist it out; and finally if you need to simply change your view on something learn how to see things from a different perspective. Sometimes all you need is a wall!

The amazing power of music together with the Asana practice can truly allow you to find your sense of self, as well as to learn how to take care of your body, even when your favorite class seems so far away. Create your own play-list, start with a few child’s poses, and maybe with our help the relationship between you and your mat won’t be so scary anymore. Take this opportunity to maybe get yourself a special new travel or home mat before November 8th, and then just take the first step towards making Yoga a step deeper. Allow yourself to become your favorite teacher in the comfort of your own home!

– Francesca

Francesca and Anastasia are teaching the Finding Your Own Groove Workshop on November 6.