Bikram Yoga Decatur

During my last class of 2011, on New Year’s Eve morning, our instructor invited anyone who wished to do so to hold the second set of Ustrasana (Camel Pose) for a full minute rather than the regular 20 seconds. In most activities, the difference between 20 seconds and 60 seems minor. But in Camel Pose? Well, now, that’s entirely different…and you, Bikram yogi, probably know exactly what I mean.

As I’ve approached this final day of my challenge, I assumed my last post about it would involve some kind of neat and tidy summary of my experience. (As if there’s anything neat and tidy about Bikram yoga!) I was obviously anticipating again. A summary suggests the end of something…a summing up…and I’m struck by the thought that there can be no summary, for there’s no ending taking place here. No ending whatsoever.

After going into Savasana last night during my 22nd class, I listened as Rebecca R. explained that Bikram designed this yoga to be a 90-minute moving meditation in order to teach westerners how to meditate. By working the same sequence of postures over and over again, we can see the many ways in which we constantly evolve against a background that doesn't change. I heard something in these words that took on a whole new meaning for me. I'm not a static being but one who is in a constant state of flux. The yoga doesn't change, but I do. The yoga stays the same so that it can show me that I do not. What a beautiful truth...one that belongs to all of us, I think. (11/16/2011)

I recently attended a class led by guest instructor Tu Nguyen. It was a quietly driven class, hard and exhausting but beautifully meditative. He demonstrated Pranayama (Deep Breathing) for some new students and it seemed like minutes passed with his every breath. He breathed so deep and long that the entire room was still and silent with a palpable awe, waiting...just waiting...on the very edge of every inhale he took and every exhale he released. I remember thinking, I want to breathe that way. Since then, I've been acutely aware of how gorgeous is the sound of my own breath: the sound of life passing into and out of my blood. A room full of human beings breathing slowly and deeply together: a rich cadence of living art.

Holy guacamole - I am so feelin' it! Over the last few days, it seems like my greatest challenge has been to stand still or sit down and take a rest. I recall Eric once saying that an advanced practice isn't just evidenced by an ability to do the postures deeply or indefinitely. It also demonstrates a willingness to honor limits and back off when necessary, to override ego when it says to push through anyway because resting constitutes weakness or failure. As I round the mid-point of my challenge, I'm definitely feeling the need to be an advanced student. :) Physically, I need to ease up a bit and make sure I'm working at a pace that reflects my body's changing needs at this point in my challenge (and wow, are they changing!). That's intuition. Mentally I don't want to back off; I just want to do. And that's ego.

10 classes now under my belt. Writing about my challenge has been a revealing process. On the one hand, since I always take a few moments to capture and jot down my thoughts after each class, I find myself still thinking about my practice after I've left the room. Writing also keeps me plugged in to what day I'm on; today I'm aware that I'm a third of the way through. This awareness of time can feel distracting. I don't want to feel as if I'm just ticking off the days, because I'm really enjoying this daily time with myself in the room, even when I think I'm not enjoying it.

Day 8. UGH!!! How to capture what tonight’s class was like? Had a strong and focused balancing series. The heat was back up to snuff. It felt good; my body has been missing it. Went down into the first Savasana (Dead Body) and suddenly felt myself sputter and stall, just like an idling car engine that abruptly stops running. My arms and legs felt boneless as I lifted them into Pavanamuktasana (Wind-Removing). Pushing up into Bhujangasana (Cobra), my heart began pounding and the first vestige of panic settled in.

I am walking home after my 7th class.
I am strong in my body.
I am the autumn fire devouring these trees.
I am the clarity of this vaulting blue sky.
I am the heat of this pulsing sun.

So there I am in my 4th class, armed with my mantra: "Never give up; you're only as limited as your thoughts", and what do I do in Dandayamana-Janushirasana (Standing Head to Knee): I give up. In the second set, with my right leg locked solid, my left leg kicking out strong, my elbows bent down near my calf muscles, I began to drop my forehead to my knee. "What are you doing?!", said a voice in my head. "You can't do that! You'll hurt your back!" So I started to come back up when I heard my instructor say, "Just try". I knew she was talking to me.

13 months into my Bikram practice, I'm excited to have begun my first 30-day challenge. My first 3 classes have felt "normal", since it's not unusual for me to do 3 days in a row, but I've never done more than that. I practice 4-5 times a week, but that's not the same thing as 30 classes in 30 days, so I think it's safe to say that from this point on, I'm entering uncharted sweaty waters. I can't wait to see where they take me. A few things I've been aware of about my practice during these first 3 days:

One of the reasons I removed my blog posts was that the poems I had published on this site before April 2011 were being reviewed for inclusion in a yoga poetry anthology (I didn’t want their web publication to disqualify them). As I read through the blog, in deciding what to keep, I saw beauty in the flaws of my “weakest” entries. This reminded me that the journey, each honest step and what it reveals, is what it’s all about. How graceful or flawless the step is secondary, and more important is what it teaches us. So I decided to clear the blog, and start a blank page.

Last night, I got a wild hair and set up my mat on the left side of the yoga room, away from the windows where I usually practice. That's your wild hair, you ask? Well, yeah...but remember, you're talking to someone who thinks living on the edge is mixing some real coffee in with the decaf. If you ask students who regularly practice on the right side of the room why they prefer that side, we might tell you that it's not as warm and/or that it feels more open. I'm of the latter opinion; I feel claustrophobic on the left, so I typically avoid setting up there unless there's absolutely no space remaining on the right. In other words, hardly ever.

Today I celebrate the one-year anniversary of my Bikram practice, which has changed my health, my body, and my life in ways I couldn't have imagined on my first day. What follows is in no way an attempt at a medical statement. These are merely some results after 365 days of a steady, minimum 3-times-a-week practice. I had a physical in Sept 2010 right before I began my practice, and another a month ago. My cholesterol has dropped 46 points, and my ratio of "good to bad" is roughly 4:1, which is excellent. My blood pressure comes in at 110/68 (down from 132/80) and my resting heart rate is 68 beats per minute, down 11 beats. There are 12 pounds less of me and I've dropped a size in clothing.

I'm walking in the 2011 Atlanta Buddy Walk to show my support for the more than 350,000 individuals with Down syndrome in the United States. I want to do my part to make sure that each individual is given every opportunity to reach their full potential.

Every step I take, every dollar I raise will help ensure that each individual with Down syndrome in the United States will be able to do just that. Last year alone, over $9.5 million dollars was raised nation-wide for local and national education, research and advocacy programs.

Your involvement in the Atlanta Buddy Walk -- by walking with me or by sponsoring me -- will make steps for a brighter tomorrow for all individuals with Down syndrome.

Thank you for supporting me -- and all individuals with Down syndrome.

When a friend and I were recently discussing the dangers of comparing ourselves to others, I found myself sharing with her the manner in which this topic often surfaces in our yoga room as our instructors consistently and emphatically remind us to keep our gazes on ourselves in the mirror, to search for no one's eyes but our own. In yoga, as in life, the peril of allowing our focus to drift away from ourselves and onto another is the inevitable and immediate reaction to begin comparing, which will have one of two results: the denigration of our own body and ability when we decide that the one upon whom we are focused is "better" than we are, or the denigration of another's body and ability in order to convince ourselves that we are "better". Either way, a human is made small. Love shrinks, tolerance withers, and our inner world grows small too.

Our BYD instructors often remind us that, "Every day is different." How can a basic truth be so difficult to grasp? Since I practice yoga with a highly problematic lower back and extremely "chatty" sacroiliac joints, I am confronted by - and often frustrated with - this truth every time I step into the hot room. One day, I'll have what I think of as a "good class"; I'll work through all 26 postures without any twinges or discomfort, without having to sit down or fall out, and without having to modify anything. The very next day, without warning, every posture involving a forward bend will tweak my right hip and cause me to gasp, I'll have to modify some postures, and sit others out altogether. I think of this as a "bad class" because it feels saturated with the reality of my limitations, and like many people, I tend to view limitations as great big negatives: glaring yellow road signs declaring "Dead End".

BECOMING

In yoga, I become the water that shapes my landscape.

Whether by the deafening pound of surf, the rage of mighty river, or the gurgle of mountain stream, Earth is shaped only by first being eroded. Her shorelines are sculpted by pounding waves. Her valleys are bisected and carved by rapids. Her forests grow up nourished on cascades. Earth is in a constant state of transformation because of water, the progress often so infinitesimal that one cannot see it from day to day. It is only when one looks upon the landscape after some time has passed that one sees how it’s been transformed, that what one thought was being eroded was simply washed away and redesigned.

I finished the 30 day challenge. I have been soaking on what the heck I did. It has been easily one of the most amazing and challenging experiences of my life.

I'm over all of my theory of process thoughts. I just want to do the yoga.

Sunday's class (#22) was a challenge. I ran out of gas very early and allowed my head to become filled with horrible thoughts. I've had tough classes. Heck, they're all ridiculously tough, but something about the way this one got me-it threw me for a loop. I became very upset and processes in my head went haywire. I piled on all sorts of negativity and lay there sluggishly stewing in it. I recall a sudden emptiness and feeling very out of energy. I believe the lack of energy came first, surprising me, which in turn I allowed to let flow in a super-depresso reaction.

It's Saturday morning, what would be day 21 for me. I did a double on Thursday and am going to cash it in for today. I had to call out of work Friday due to a restless night with stomach issues. Now, reacting to another curve ball in routines, I'm having to schedule myself a class in a different studio because I am not within travelling distance of Bikram Yoga Decatur. I'm feeling pretty beat down and stiff up my back. Couldn't touch toes this morning. Weather has head feeling like it's full of something viscous and wobbly. I'm going to go to a 9 am class tomorrow morning. Feeling out of routine. Out of place, but in a good way and an alien way. Wanting to use the time to relax and catch up with myself. Enjoy different scenery. Not worry about logistics. I'm reminded of the thought that one should be able to do their poses in traffic. I will adapt to this.

Purging. Peeling back layers. The reality of "keeping it real". It has to do with stripping away all the crap. Each class feels like an opportunity to peel away maybe a little more. Again, no expectations. But there has to be some sort of quest for being honest with ourselves. Darnit. I'm probably just going through this because I'm dedicated to doing 30 days. It changes things. I know this is an exercise and it's also supposed to be a place to laugh, relax, and have fun.
But:

Everything has become a blur. I look back on the previous days and there's a loss of time reference. Thanksgiving seems like a month ago. The more gung-ho state of mind I was in about this also seems like a long time ago. I wondered about this back when i was feeling so giddy or pink cloudy. Kind of anticipated that it was going to get hard in a different way. It has been hard - don't get me wrong. But somewhere along the way I got cocky. It came to an abrupt end on...what day was that? Saturday? I've been feeling a constant weariness. I feel like I got ahead of a boulder I was behind or some such silly analogy.

I'm back from day 14's class. This one I have to report on. It was brutal. I'm sitting here now in the crankiest mood. It released some sort of personal confrontation and boy am I hot under the collar right now.

I had to miss class yesterday. I wanted to go. I did a double last Friday, though. So I'm still on track with my 30 days. I'm feeling stiff and sore this morning. I went to bed at 7:30 pm last night. Abnormally early for me. But I listened to my body. I was asleep fast and slept well. Up at 6 am on a Saturday. I'm thinking of doing a double today. Today will be day 14.

Yesterday was a long day. I'd only had 4 hours of sleep and had to pull an extra long day at work. 7am to 630pm. Funny how I think going to yoga would have helped me not feel like going to bed at 7:30 on a Friday night.

In an early post, I referred to the instructors as voices. I made it sound like they were some sort of neutral presence that established a pace for class and were basically just guides. I want to take this back. Each instructor has a different "Oh cool, they're doing this class" factor. I'm increasingly thankful for their various styles and attentiveness.

Walked in to class tonight and immediately sensed a temperature difference from other nights. Oh wow it's hot. Hotter than usual. Or maybe I'm just developing expectations. So I catch myself thinking this one is going to be a bear. Is it? I roll out my mat and leave the room excited, partially because I'm a bit nervous. I'm not sure if it is hotter in there or if it is me. I don't suppose it really matters.

i love how there's always a ways to go. with anything.

This entry is an opinion piece by a BYD student and it's views do not represent those of Bikram Yoga Decatur or its instructors.

Today will be day 8. I write that with a bit of a groan. I'm feeling it this morning.

I'm realizing what planning does. Again. Or maybe simply thinking too much. I've been walking around in daily routine very conscious of doing this challenge. Talking to people about it. I have this place in my mind rewarding and slapping myself on the back for being involved in such a strenuous thing. I want to erase that. Try to consider going to Bikram as simply part of who I am. Of course, I also said I want to rid myself of the vanity aspect, but it doesn't look like that's happening with any haste. I just realized I treat the mirror at home different from the mirror in class. And you know what else? It isn't strenuous! It releases strain. It's massaging my organs and making me healthier from the inside out. It's making me question long term ways of being.