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Five years ago on this day, the final practice teaches begin. C. is the first in my group (facilitated by Jurian, Queen of Sounds), and then K., whose class is facilitated by Wendy from Saratoga Springs. Lots of talking, sharing, tears, and fears afterward, with lots of profound statements. I feel so anxious sitting there as everyone speaks so eloquently and deeply, craving an emotional experience like the ones they had, craving the applause, the relief, the epiphanies. Even Megha gets emotional, crying, telling us that seeing us like this is like sending your children off to college. H. weeps freely about his disheartening experience, A. says something magnificent, and All You Need is Love, Love, Love–Love is All You Need.
***
Evening sadhana is with Devarshi, a bit of dancing, intense hara pratapana, and some excellent partner yoga. Gorged on chocolate during practice teach prep, stayed up till midnight talking to Meditation John, Energy James, and some cool Seva girl, drinking tea, feeling increasingly sick, and studying my class notes. Went to bed feeling like I was either having a heart attack and/or suffocating.
Five years ago on this day, it is an odd, weird energy day. Drizzly and cooler at dawn, but the morning of our class of choice. I go to Danny’s 6 a.m. gentle, only because I want to witness my previous facilitator in action. He’s simple, thorough, and calming, a perfect leader for an early day. I feel completely refreshed and calm, ready for breakfast and the morning session.
We talk more about our yamas and niyamas, and I realize I have no idea where to be. I’m done with aparigraha, maybe still on santosha, but what about asteya or tapas? Perhaps tapas may be the best choice, cultivating my own discipline, working on my own passions rather than relying on someone else to give them to me.
Posture clinic focuses on bow, dhanurasana. Our second-to-last clinic!
***
During lunch (excellent bean/corn soup), Angela Farmer herself approaches my table and sits right across from me. Thinking of E. and our talk from yesterday, I smile inside and try not to freak out. E. happened to walk by, sees me and Angela, and gives a little wink.
***
Our afternoon session includes our final posture clinic = headstand, which I don’t do because of my terrible congestion. I work with J., who amazes me. She is my mother’s age and gets into sirsasana in a heartbeat, no wall. There are lots of questions about the final practice teach, which seem to get everyone all riled up and anxious.
***
There is currently an Integrative Weight Loss program going on here, and it’s quite obvious, with a whole lot of heavy, overweight guests who have shown up. However, I’m so proud of them for being here. I know this is the place for them to heal and transform. I saw a rather large woman dancing her heart out in DansKinetics class, and I beamed.
***
Practice Teach #3 is tomorrow afternoon. I have a feeling fate will grant me with an outside facilitator, neither Megha nor Rudy, or any of the assistants. It’s going to be up to me to be the judge, the facilitator. I have to learn to see my own talents and flaws and not rely on my “idols” to do the work.
***
Sleep has not been so easy for me lately. Between M., J., and K.’s snoring, I have been having difficulty drifting off. I feel restless when I hit the sack, even though I’m exhausted. I have bags under my eyes that are practically down to my nose. I think I put on weight and look like crap every morning, but I feel great. Good spirits! But sleep is a struggle. Dreams about home. Thoughts about Practice Teach #3 and life in the Real World. Thoughts about leaving. Sleep doesn’t come so easily now, but waking up at 5:30 isn’t so difficult anymore.
Five years ago on this day, I wake up to a non-YTT guest in our dorm room, right above me. Her name is Donna, and she is fine. She woke up at 6 this morning, but after she crept down the bunk ladder and hit the floor I was already asleep again. I woke up at 7 to the sun bright as all heck shining in, a huge cloud of mist hanging over the lake like I was in Narnia. I noticed that the bright yellow and red trees outside our window are almost completely bare. Their once luscious, vibrant leaves of fire now make a huge puddle around their bases.
***
I am sick. I could feel the congestion building up over the past 2-3 days, and last night I went to bed with a sore throat. All during the night I kept waking up, trying to swallow. I wonder how often Kripalu cleans those purple and white blankets and yoga mats. 
***
I look at myself partially naked in the bathroom mirror and notice although I think my butt has gotten bigger, everything in that area is more toned and muscular, especially my thighs. My inner thighs are solid, and stuff doesn’t jiggle as much. My abs are more defined. I have the biggest sleepy circles under my eyes, but my face feels glowing, flushed, radiant.
***
I realize how much of an impact music has on my memory. In the cafeteria this morning, a song was playing, the techno/dance version of “Simple Gifts” that Megha and Rudy played on opening night. A sudden feeling of love and warmth wash over me.
***
After breakfast, I hope to catch the “walking train” of people that decided to head into Lenox, but I apparently missed the group by 10 minutes. That’s OK. I went off by myself, backpack in tow, and set off past the gates of Kripalu. Real World. The sign at the entrance of Kripalu is so small and humble, our little safe haven. Our little secret.
There is a “Welcome to Lenox” sign, and now I’m on the open road. I notice lots of noise, cars, trucks…it’s loud. I realize I haven’t truly been “on the open road” in about 3 weeks, and hearing the sounds of speeding cars is a little bit of a shock. I walk and walk, uphill, downhill, kind of knowing where I’m going but also not. Where is the monument [in the center of town]? How far ahead are the other girls? Will I see society soon? I walk past houses, some with pumpkins on their front steps, some with Christmas wreaths hanging on the doors. Christmas. Holy crap, it’s November 11, and that means the stores are probably bursting with Christmas stuff. Where have I been? What a time warp.
Where am I?, I think, continuing with my walk. It’s so much different than walking around my hometown or other familiar places, when I know precisely where I am in relation to the county, state, and country. But where am I now? I have a vague feeling of it being in Massachusetts, but it feels like a different planet. I know nothing around me, and in a way it feels good. Not knowing. Living in the inquiry. I feel like my trek on this foreign road is like the journey of a college student–I know I want to do something in communications, but what? TV? Radio? Film? Print? No idea where to go or what the destination is, but enjoying the journey, the walk, the various classes and lectures and teachers and books and friends. Being OK with not knowing the destination.
When I reach downtown Lenox about 45 minutes later, it feels like Disney World. There is a bank, a pharmacy, a book store, a health food store, cute little shops, a gas station. I’m tickled with delight but also worried. Choices. Decisions. Learning to control the urge to hoard and want and possess. I find the Lenox coffeeshop, and D. and M. are inside. Soy hot chocolate. We talk a lot about Kripalu, the people, our staff, how we are overcome with gratitude and love when someone reaches out to us. I am not the only one falling in love with love.
***
Twenty minutes after returning to Planet K, it’s DansKinetics time. I try not to think about how this may be my last DansKinetics class with Megha, to just be there in the Main Hall, in front of the stained glass Om symbol, to enjoy and participate, to dance and just let go. It works, because I see the transformation around me. I see people around me smiling and singing and laughing and sweating, and I know it is partially Megha’s influence that has made everyone open up this way. Her energy is boundless, and it is fascinating to see how it rubs off on one, two, three, four people, and how that energy rubs off on more people, spreading until the whole room is ALIVE, like really ALIVE…living. How one person and five drummers can create that openness is a marvel to witness, and I knew then that (for the 1,000th time) that is was my duty to take this energy, cultivate it in myself, and spread it to people in my life.
I keep telling myself to remember, remember, remember. It is my new mantra. I remember the wood-paneled ceiling, I remember smiling at my fellow classmates, I remember standing next to the drummers and hearing their beats, moving my feet to their sound. I remember standing at the edge of the circle, letting my body succumb to Stage 4 (another dimension), my hair loose and all over my face, thrashing on the floor, dying, dying, alive, alive, a birth and death cycle over and over again. I was 150 different Jens that afternoon, coming and going. I was a banshee wild woman, raw, terrifying, peaceful, sexual, dying, breathing, living. A tiger and a dove. Sweaty. Gross. Sweet. Sweat. Remember.
During class I realized that what A.M. said about silence is right–you can’t have music without it. There were times during KDZ’s intense drumming songs when they threw in a pause–and the release, the notes that followed that hold, were thrilling, wild. You could see the effect on us; everyone loved it. Those short little pauses that gave us two seconds of craving, anticipation, mystery–then gaining it all back again. You can’t have music without silence.
We trickled to the floor as the music slowed, a graceful surrender and death. The musicians padded around us, their delicate music lulling us into relaxation. A little blonde girl named Roberta played her rain stick over my head, and I smiled. I felt emotion, tears. Grateful. I Jai Bhagwan’ed with appreciation and rested. When I saw Megha in the doorway, I immediately zeroed in to hug her, even though she and I were both saturated. I did not care. I embraced her and my voice trembled, and I thanked her. She called me “My dancing sister,” something she’s probably said to thousands of other women, but that melted my heart then and there.
***
Mexican for lunch, and I overeat again. Burritos, tacos, beans, rice, salad, corn soup. I go overboard and now my tummy is not so flat anymore.
***
I shop in the Kripalu Store of Doom for over 2 hours, buying more than $150 worth of lovely yoga stuff. 2+ hours. M. and I are practically employees in there, listening to CDs, looking at clothes, yadda yadda. Dinner in the cafe, then an in-depth discussion with E. about her talk with Angela Farmer, who talked with her for 45 minutes about how yoga is meant for men, how it’s angular and rigid and masculine. The story, says Angela Farmer, is that Shivo witnessed his wife Parvati bathing while doing really graceful, flowing, organic postures. Fascinated, Shivo went into the woods to mimic her postures but ended up doing very rigid forms, militaristic. His followers copied his movement and thus yoga became a “movement.” So, what was “supposed” to be fluid, feminine movement was transformed into masculine warrior postures. So Angela Farmer is all about bringing the feminine quality back to yoga, and E. was purely fascinated. And it was fascinating to listen to her fascination!
***
Where did learning about yoga go? I’m so concerned about dancing and poetry and woman issues that I’m completely forgetting about Practice Teach #3, anatomy, and our test, whatever that may be. But I’ll never forget that sitz bones = ischial tuberosities and that the digestive system–sing it with me now!–“Digests, Absorbs, and Eliminates!”
***
Two nights ago, I crept into bed and was able to see the new moon from my pillow. I stretched out in my bunk, watching the clouds cover and expose the moon, and I was completely content. I shower in flip-flops every night, smell like cafeteria food all the time, get 6 hours of sleep, but I am content. So f***ing happy.
(In case you haven’t been following the series, I am honoring the 5-year anniversary of my Kripalu 200-hour yoga teacher training experience by transcribing my journal notes from my time there. The first post is here. Also, a disclaimer: The posts get significantly longer and more intense as the month progresses.)
Five years ago on this day, I am ready for the morning’s round robin sadhana. I actually planned something last night, staying up till 11:15 in Shadowbrook, developing a Warrior I vinyasa with prayer hands. I had planned a Warrior II thing as well, but I never had the time to teach it. But nonetheless, I got up “on deck” and followed C. I wore the headset for the first time! I think I went too slowly, but it felt good. I would have loved to have talked more through the posture, anatomy-wise, but the chime was waiting. Several people approached me afterward and said they loved my variations. 🙂 I know I’m not supposed to seek praise, but I am happy to receive these comments from my peers and not the authorities.
***
Our morning session got highly–HIGHLY!–emotional. We co-listened/reflective listened about our silent day, and some really deep thoughts were shared. A. said that the silence made him realize we are all animals–we don’t need language to connect, because we are all the same. S. brought up some great comments about not having to act–everyone is so inclined to react, to form opinions, to speak up, but sometimes it’s OK just to be. Just be. Just observe. So that was pretty intense, but then Megha brought up our celebration party, how after our last practice teach, a “dying process” would begin, culminating with our party. “One week from now, one week from this moment, will be the last time our group is together like we are now.”
We do the “Heart and Soul” exercise, which was beyond emotional. Picture 62 people intertwined and connected, breathing together as a single organism. At one point, L. was bent over her knees, and I supported her from behind, interlacing my arms around her torso and hugging her from the back. I rested my face on her back and just cried. My palms could feel her stomach rising and falling with breath, and my breath began to synchronize with hers. After a few rounds of Heart/Soul/Heart/Soul, we were invited to stay in place and move breath by breath–move an arm here, turn around there, and our static garden of grace began to swell with love and support, people reaching out and grasping and leaning and caressing. We gathered in a circle afterward to discuss the experience, and everyone was sobbing. Megha ruffled D.’s hair, and D. lost it, breaking down. Desperate for a hug myself, I took D. in my arms, myself in hers, and we cried together. I broke down too, a loud “breakdown” sob.
OK. Whew. Let’s move on. Onto relaxation techniques. However, the teachers put on “Amazing Grace” as the relaxation song, and then everyone was dropping like flies, like newborns in a hospital nursery, sobbing, tissues, hugs, tears. D., on her back, was a mess, and I ruffled her hair, trying to comfort. But then I broke down again, and Megha had to go around the room to distribute tissues. Luckily, Megha’s relaxation techniques were pretty good, and five minutes into the guiding I felt pretty calm. I went from quivering to collected, and then after about 15 minutes we got to guide each other in relaxation.
***
Jurian and Leila were teaching DansKinetics that afternoon, and although I usually keep my lunch break free, on a whim I decided to go. Not only did it feel good to support my two teachers, but M. was there, dancing for the first time ever. It felt great to see her and the other new DansKinetics people evolve in just 45 minutes. The joy in that hall was infectious and beautiful, and we were encouraged to make eye contact with the other people and spread the energy. Britney Spears’ “Toxic,” “Seasons of Love” (with scarves…aahhh, so beautiful), and “Unwritten,” twirling in the “rain.” I ended up sweating up a storm and thoroughly enjoyed listening to Jurian’s very sensual aahs and oohs. Her movements are exotic and graceful and mesmerizing and gorgeous. How attracted I am to movers and shakers!
Jurian!
***
Our afternoon program was about yoga and various conditions such as insomnia, obesity, depression, etc. It was very informative, but slow and tiring. We took a mid-session break, and it was absolutely delicious. Sun, breeze, air, oxygen! Very hard to go back indoors. M. called people who get emotional during yoga “wackadoodles,” and I announced that I, then, was indeed a wackadoodle.
***
When class gets out at 4 p.m., the lobby of Kripalu was a madhouse. Ugh–the weekend! Such intrusive energy, hustling, bustling, loudness, messiness, newness. Someone new is placed in our dorm room. There is new luggage, new stuff in the bunk above me. Reverse culture shock.
***
Afternoon sadhana is led by Roger–grueling, tiring, draining. SO MANY downdogs. Something is wrong with my head, because going into standing forward bend feels like my head is 25 pounds, full of pressure, like my eyeballs are going to fall out. I modified a lot, puppy instead of downdog.
“Do your own vinyasa to make your way down to your sitz bones,” Roger instructs. Says I: “Here’s my vinyasa…(plops butt onto ground).”
During shoulderstand, I develop an intense interest in my feet. My toes are spread wide, and I fan them from the inside out, outside in, and they look so cool against the purple lighting. Suddenly, I snapped into Devarshi’s “baby mode,” completely absorbed in my wiggling feet, my spread-out toes, my swaying, extended legs. Whee! I think I may have even smiled out of pure fascination.
But after a grueling workout, savasana was divine. I was in the front row, and it felt so peaceful being up there, right next to the towering Shiva, which always looks bigger at night, illuminated under the red and purples, the five candles, surrounded by bunches of flowers and our personal objects. As I lay there, I become overcome by emotion. It was perfect. Something to remember. Me in the front row, exhausted, M. at my right, L., completely passed out on my left, the dark room, deep hues of Shiva, the flickering candles that I could see dance through my closed eyes. I blinked several times, my glasses-less eyes seeing the statue and altar as a whimsical blur. Soft. Warm. Deep. Here. Now. Peace. You Are Where You’re Supposed To Be.
We sat up–I found myself still crying. A single tear escaped my left eye, and I sat there, trying to remember. What is your intention?, Roger asked. Pull your heart toward that intention. Remember. That was my intention: to remember. Remember this moment, this feeling of security and warmth. Remember the candles, the soft music, the single tear, the Shiva, the blanket around my legs, the faint smell of dirty feet, Roger’s voice, M. and her overly pointed toes, L. and his passed out body splayed all over the mat. Remember. Remember this moment like you remembered La Sagrada Familia in Spain, like you remembered hanging over the balcony in your Madrid hotel on election night, like you remembered the rooftop of the Jokhang Temple in Lhasa, like you remembered sitting on the deck of the Chinese cruise ship crying with the rain.
It will be sad to leave, but the memory will always be with me. Kripalu and this past month of Shiva, these people, Dorm 129, that crazy satsang with Mooji at the end of our hall, the outdated gym equipment, the cafeteria smell on our clothes, the silence of the Sun Room, the exhilaration of going outside, Angela Farmer floating through the halls (and me spying on her in her room from outside), the 24-hour tea access, the STARS!, the silent breakfasts, the poop and farting sounds in the bathroom, the “Oprah Winfrey” microphone being passed around the room, the cafeteria greeter guy with the short-term memory, the taco/pizza/brownie nights…it will all be remembered.
And, aside from the people, Kripalu is always here. It’s not like Santa’s village in the North Pole, which disappears after Christmas. It’s here, 5 hours away. It will never carry this same feeling, this feeling of evolution that I encountered, but it is here. For DansKinetics, for a workshop, for an R+R…whatever.
When I arrived here on October 22, the leaves were yellow and orange. I have photos to prove it! The mountains were a village of colors, and now, November 10, it has vanished, blown away. In one week, when we go on our separate ways, the land will be bare. Just like us, this tribe, here together, vibrant, thriving–it will end. The change of seasons parallels our experience. But the color will return in the spring. The same leaves won’t be here, but our lives will continue to glow and flourish, to become beautiful and whole and picturesque. The colors will return. Life isn’t ending; it’s just changing. New colors, new experiences will emerge.
Five years ago on this day, we begin our day of silence, the Noble Retreat. So far, nothing really seems different. Everyone’s too tired to talk in the morning, and breakfast is already silent. However, now that I’m sitting here at breakfast, although everything is the same and nothing has changed, I am more aware of the silence. Maybe it’s the sunlight trying to peak through the clouds. Maybe it’s because Grace just led a very silent-based awareness class, but everything feels illuminated right now. Colors are more vibrant, the small sounds of clinking spoons, water gurgling, clunking bowls, whispers, and the music playing softly from the stereo are extremely titillating, arousing. Especially the music. “Amazing Grace” was just playing; now it’s a beautiful chant. The few sounds around me buoy me, lift my heart. Trying to find the stillness, the silence among noise is a challenge, but a gentle one.
I’m not sure whether to look super-serious as I do this silent endeavor or be happy and smile. I feel like smiling could inadvertently engage conversation, but just because I’m silent doesn’t mean I can’t communicate. I speak through my body; perhaps that affirmation will be strengthened today.
***
Grace’s sadhana was delicious as she helped us explore the marriage of movement and breath, since our breath is our only speaking friend today. A fun experiment was asking the class to do either sun breaths or bhastrika–but once you started, you had to stay in your chosen breath, trying to tune out the quick or slow breaths around you. It was definitely a challenge doing the slow and deliberate sun breaths as others noisily did bhastrika. Even vice versa was hard. There was a certain softness in the room I wanted to capture during my loud bhastrika.
After class, we are asked to journal on the following question: What does yoga mean to me now?
Yoga is breaking the barriers between mind, body, and spirit, not treating them as separate entities but seeing and living them as One. Yoga is acknowledging the Oneness in the world around me–I am not separate from these beings around me; they are all part of me, as I am part of them. Yoga is touching your true Self, touching it, observing it, playing with it, doing all these things before you embrace the Self. Finding your essence, your core, finding out that you–no, I–speak through movement. That is me, finding grace. Finding the light and the shadow and embracing them–honoring them, working your way through the light and darkness, breathing through the unknown, tip-toeing, jumping, leaping, into the wave, riding, riding, riding the wave.
***
Our student-teacher mantra is whole and strong, our Oms filled with a deep-rooted urge to make sound. We are permitted to chant Ganesha Sharanam again, loud, with instruments. It goes on forever, 15 minutes? So vibrant and delicious. I whirl and twirl to the chanting and drumming, the harmonium, the maracas, the sticks. I bow to the remover of all obstacles, I dance to the remover of all obstacles. I lose control, I gain control, a delicate dance of will and surrender. As the music slows, I fall to the floor on my knees and relish the stillness in my body. For once, I appreciate non-movement, inquiry, breath.
That is when we go outside for a silent nature walk; the natural stillness of the Berkshires such a maddening polarity of the noise we had just created.
Each crunch of a single leaf sounds like a tree falling in the forest. Standing on rocks sounds like icy snow under my shoes. Birds, cars, airplanes are the music. Engines humming. People sighing. People praying. People walking. People crying. Stuffy noses. Twigs snapping. My pen clicking. The gong ringing. A small waterfall’s trickle, reminding me of Tibet, the mountains, the waterfalls. The non-stop trickling of water. Bright moss, florescent green, yellow leaves among brown and bare. J.’s blue-green jacket near yellow leaves.
Pinecones and red berries. Small, miniature pinecones on the ground of the woods–makes me think of the holidays, home, warmth, love, family. No gifts, just warmth. Music, warmth, love, pinecones, and red berries.
***
We come inside from the late fall’s chill and do a blood-pumping vinyasa practice with Roger, earthy, primal root music vibrating off the walls and floor. I feel the flow before we even start, Mother Earth aching to erupt from my root, my bones. Ooooh, I want to mooooove. I feel the prana before Roger leads, and the incredible heat within only gets more intense as he goes along. Sun salutation after sun salutation, uttansana, utkatasana, burning, flowing, fire and water. My monkey mind slowly starts to disappear as prana resides in my circuits. We go into a side plank with the top leg up (something that’s always challenged me), but it comes naturally today: no mind, no will, just prana. Everything is illuminated; I feel like I’m looking at a Magic Eye book, my eyes drawn into the minute squares on my blue yoga mat. The throbbing, pulsing music becomes ingrained in my body. And then, meditation in motion:
Downdog splits, so high and wide, a camel so deep I thought my head was going to drop to the floor. I allowed my heart to reach up, my head to drop, for will to let the f*** go. A lunging Warrior that danced, a backbend that I’ve never done before, my spine fluid, my spine prana. A snake with no inhibitions. Hanumasana, rolling over into upavistha konasana, all flow, so deep. Up into that leg-on-the-upper-arm balance, no holding back, no deep preparation, just down and up. So much warmth, but not a hot “Oh my god, I just ran a mile” hot, but a deep, internal flame hot, the sweat that emerged from my pores was energy, passion, not overheated sweat. Gold. I felt illuminated.
We then move into pranayama, a difficult transition. I still had prana shaking in my ribs. I sat on my mat, dazed and woozy with santosha, as Roger handed out cushions. Kapalabhati, nadi shodhana, dirgha. The heat subsided. The energy dispersed from my center all over my body. No more kundalini, no more shakti. Contentment. Peace. We sat in meditation and my third eye pulsed, shapes swam in my third eye until all the gold and black movement cleared and made way for an expanse of dark blue, like a curtain opening to a beautiful stage of a royal blue backdrop. The stage was empty, and it was time to watch the show. I felt like I had entered another dimension until Rudy awakened us.
Afterwards, we are allowed to make noise again. We Om in a chorus, so loud and present. We do a round of the Birthday Song for L., and I am taken aback at my own voice, how strong, confident, and melodic it is. I am there, man. I am speaking from my roots, I am present. Gradually I am letting go and returning to me. I am Jennifer. I am Jennifer.
***
The afternoon session with Devarshi stars off with, as always, music. We all enter and dance, this time it being more meaningful because we have been silent with our voices. It was a slow, mellow, soul-bearing melody, folksy, full of sways and spins. Devarshi danced along with us–he was definitely cool in my book. His talk about The Bhagavad Gita was profound and provocative, that life is a battle, the reason for fighting lies within ourselves, and that the only way to find god is just to look a little closer. Look! Look! Look! Experience everything fully, good or bad. See the world like a baby, like an alien. Be curious. Live in the inquiry.
In yoga, Devarshi says, the postures are just the chip (versus the dip, the deeper stuff). When something is fully experienced, no matter how bad/big, there is bliss. “‘Is that so (lofty)’ versus ‘Is.That.So’ (wow, here’s an experience).” Babies have no filters; they experience everything at the present, devour everything as it comes. What is happening now? Living in the inquiry, the mystery. Book. Bird. They fly with the bird, not just label it.
To emphasize that point, we are asked to go outside and explore our surroundings as if we are aliens landing on a new planet, to experience life as it is. So there we are, 65 of us crawling on the asphalt, picking at the grass, squinting curiously into the sun. I play with ivy and find a ladybug. I play with some pine needles as though I am a cat. Even feeling the movement of air around me becomes a different experience.
***
Jurian leads the afternoon sadhana, an intense class of emotional sweat and vigor. A bunch of hara pratapana and postures like Bird of Paradise, bakasana, and side crane– whew! I was totally into the class, loving the release. I found myself crying during a warrior/goddess kumbhaka pratapana, just because stuff needed to get out.
***
Tonight is our free night, but a lot of us end up back in Shadowbrook anyway for an open mic jam, starring S. and L. L. did back-up vocals, and random people popped in to listen or participate. L. sang “What a Night,” S. did “Black Horse and the Cherry Tree,” and then J. and I danced to “Building a Mystery.” A fun, spontaneous evening.
***
Observations:
• G. does his own sh** during every sadhana, and that is annoying and disrespectful. I know Kripalu yoga is very open about exploring your body and listening to what movement you need, but he just goes off into LaLa Land all the time. I must stop setting up my mat next to his.
• My jaw doesn’t hurt so much anymore now that I’m talking again.
Five years ago on this day, I wake up to clouds. It’s our first overcast, drizzly day in a while, yet not too cold, not too gloomy. Not gloomy at all, actually. The heavy white clouds linger over the mountaintops, moving in slow motion. Nature’s ghosts inhabiting the Berkshires.
Rudy leads a soul-soaking morning sadhana, exactly what we needed after yesterday’s anxiety and fatigue. We do an extra long savasana and pranayama meditation. I “wake up” feeling like he was leading just me, that it was just teacher and student alone, so caressed and blessed. I ask for a hug afterward, to seal the practice. I feel so at ease but at the same time so vulnerable. Always a paradox between comfort and fear, rawness and openness. The desire of being cared for, the fear of being cared for.
After class, a group of us stand outside to soak in the picturesque panorama, all huddled by the doorway to avoid the puddle-filled walkway. Our group, standing silently, mesmerized at the view. The gatekeepers of peace, defending our right to be content, our right to just be and just be. Silence, but so loud and clear. We are here. We are allowed to just be silent and still enjoy each other.
***
For our morning session, Patton (Dinabandhu) Sarley [then the CEO of Kripalu] speaks to us about the essence of yoga. “What happens in the body happens in the mind. What happens in the mind happens in the body.” To emphasize this point, he describes how a glove doesn’t move without the fingers moving, and the fingers don’t move without the glove moving. “The body is a gross mind; the mind is a subtle body.” His talk is chock full of great points:
• Narcissism: When you believe the way you feel is the way it is.
• Everything arises out of undifferentiated nothingness, therefore we all come from the same thing. We are One.
• What you say, think, feel, and do are the same. When they are not aligned, it’s not focused and less effective. For example, imagine chopping wood with the wrong side of an ax versus using the sharp side, with all momentum and pressure on one concentrated point. It’s more effective. When there is integrated action, all cells the endocrine system start to produce a certain chemical “soup” of consciousness.
• Intelligence is detected with creativity engaged with an aim. For example, when a lawnmower is left on its own until it hits something it will just starting spinning its wheels, whereas when a person is walking to the back of the room, he avoids people, furniture, takes detours. Life’s aim is survival, more life. Intelligence of life force = quest for more life. Yoga is the science of life, belonging to the mystery.
• All mammals have the mammalian brain (limbic system), and all humans and higher beings also have the neocortex, the “new brain.” Yoga is becoming a human on the animal and human level, getting the limbic system and new brain integrated. When the limbic system and neocortex don’t connect, there is cognitive dissonance. During yoga, we are allowed to explore these feelings, but we keep hitting the ceiling (ie, new brain). The point of yoga is to develop the chemical for lifeforce, and do yoga often enough so you can be aware what integrated function tastes like, smells like, feels like, etc, working from the inside out. Do yoga to know when you’re “on,” when you’re “off,” and how to get back on when you’re off.
• Yoga is the force that holds together the four elements of our existence: You, Others, Spirit, Life. All four of these need to work in harmony. Examples of them not working together are those involved in codependent relationship (just You and Others), ashram residents (just You and Spirit), or martyrdom (just You, Others, and Life [no inner spirit]).
• Yoga is the practice of tolerating the practice of just being yourself.
***
It has been an emotionally intense day. My gut, my solar plexus is burning, heavy, like there is a brick inside of my belly, making its way to my throat. Our afternoon session started off with a conscious communication program, during which Megha and Rudy did a darling, intimate skit about conducting a conscious conversation with someone stating just the facts, what you need, etc. “When you…,” “I imagine…,” “I need…[not “I need you to yadda yadda”].” The words are so simple, so basic, non-inflated, but imagining actually saying these things to someone seems so difficult. Probably because saying “I feel” and “I need” seem selfish, but all in all, these types of conversations are kinder than the defensive/arrogant ones we/I usually have.
The program turns into a highly emotional one, as many people started thinking about their own relationships and how they don’t communicate effectively. We end the session with spinal-soaking supta matsyendrasana assists and savasana assists, during which I partnered with M. Ahhh—ecstasy! Rudy conducts a lying-down relaxation mediation, during which I cry (again) because I had the sensation of falling, letting go (my hands struggling to unfold, my fingers gradually unfurling).
***
During Helga’s afternoon sadhana, we started with a body scan. Lots of body awareness generating. Stillness and observation. Think of a part of your body that feels strong and confident. Go into a pose to support that feeling, a pose that allows that strong point to shine. Since my pelvic region was feeling pretty intense, I went into setu bandhasana. That felt wonderful. Of course, we then had to do the opposite–find a weak spot and do a pose to give it a little attention. I immediately thought of my chest and heart, so I went into Camel. There was tightness. Then we chose a pose that combined the two; I went into Warrior I.
After this, well, I felt a bit vulnerable, shaky. Helga had us go on our backs and do this core strengthener, lifting both feet to the ceiling, flex them, and push our feet up, like the ceiling is incredibly heavy. Flex those feet! Push, push, push! Everyone starts complaining about the ab workout, but suddenly for me the act becomes intensely challenging due to the physical act of flexing my feet and pushing something away, forcefully. Here I am, studying aparigraha, and I’m being asked to Push Away-Flex–Forcefully! My legs quiver, get warm. My abs were fine, but my legs and feet were struggling. Don’t push away! Keep it here! Keep it close! Pushing away was ridiculously hard, painful to the heart. I broke down, cried. Right there. Oh man, it hurt. The tears, they just came without warning, but I kept going. I kept pushing. I was riding the wave, Breath/Relax/Feel/Watch/Allow (BRFWA), and I didn’t even realize it. I was exhausted. Later we did navasana, probably my highest and longest ever, but the descent sent me into another wave of emotion. That act of letting go, caving in, sinking into the ground, falling to my mat, not holding on anymore–terrifying. My body trembled. It was physical, so emotional. Not collapsing because the pose was hard but collapsing because I was tired of holding on psychologically. I lolled in this terrifying, relieving feeling for a while, wringing it out with a twist. Another pang of emotion. The sponge being wrung out. Ugh. Ahh. Good. Bad. BRFWA, I was doing BRFWA and I didn’t even know it until Helga told me that’s what was going on.
Santosha. Santosha. Being OK here. Being OK. Loving what I have now, here at Kripalu. Using it wisely for my own happiness and knowledge. Use it to free myself, be joyful, be at peace.
***
Random observation: We have a production team for YTT that decorates our Shiva alter with fresh flowers every other day.
Another observation: K. saw me dancing last night as Linda Worster sang, and she loves talking about it: “You were so beautiful–I didn’t want you to stop!” That means a lot to me.
***
Our evening session is about lesson planning, but we start with a YTT dance party, something that has become quite a trend before class. If there’s music, we’ll dance, even if we’re exhausted. Rudy puts on “Hot, Hot, Hot” and we jam until we sweat, doing a conga line and limbo using a yoga tie. Our third and final ahtitam groups were formed as well, another sneaky maneuver. Rudy paired us up for shoulder and neck massages, and suddenly new groups were formed. K., B., C. and I are the YamaMamas. This is it! 60-minute class coming up.
Five years ago on this day, it is Practice Teach #2. Da-da-dummmmmmm!
After our personal sadhana, the adventure begins. The staff had already assigned us numbers; I was #3, to teach at 1:30 p.m. Blah. I was really all prepared to go in the morning. G. went first, then came lunch. I ate way too fast, but I did run into [yoga teacher from home] in the buffet line. We didn’t have time to talk much, but we hugged and it was a comfort to see a familiar face. Carrot ginger soup, salad, studying. Twenty-five minutes on the treadmill listening to Alias music and “What a Feeling” from Flashdance. Confidence booster. My facilitator turns out to be Danny, who wears pink toenail polish.
I don’t remember (again) much about my class. I remember joking about the Reuben sandwiches served at lunch and how we wouldn’t be doing wind-relieving pose or bow. I was definitely better prepared than last time, but it still felt weird, a new pair of shoes. But is IS a new pair of shoes. I’m not used to being a teacher. It is a new pair of shoes. I felt good in the moment but kind of hazy afterward. What just happened? Were my transitions too choppy? Did I make the students hold the posture too long while I talked? I forgot the lateral side stretch in my pratapana! I didn’t have a cool-down pose between warrior and savasana! But my languaging was on, everyone appreciated my foot rubs in savasana, and I felt confident during the class itself. I just feel confused now. Does this feel weird because of the clipboards? The constant chatter? The incessant noise and distraction, the sardine-type environment? When it’s over, I’m relieved but mentally foggy.
J. closes our practice, and then we had yet another sadhana with Ray. Ray was awesome but unfortunately I had hit rock bottom. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired in a yoga class, even those at 6:30 a.m. We did a ton of forward bends and downdogs, and my eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head. I’ve never had such a weak triangle and wobbly warrior II. I conked out somewhere between plank and half-shoulderstand and sunk into savasana. It’s a shame, because I think he was saying some great stuff, but I was just gone. No yoga nidra for me–just sleep.
***
We have a beautiful, beautiful evening in Shadowbrook with singer/songwriter Linda Worster. We spread out blankets and cushions and form a massage clinic, a 10- to 12-minutes massage per person, as Linda sings intimate, melodic songs to us. Candles at the altar, Shiva at the helm, Linda on guitar, and a whole lotta TLC all over the room. I massage H. and M. and then they work on me, me sinking into samadhi. These people, these complete strangers, now together in a deep sense of respect and love, nearly crying at the beauty of the moment.
After the massages, we set up the backjacks for a concert, laughing at Linda’s songs about her cat and travel buddies. When the songs get slow, Megha disappears to the back of the room to dance, eloquent lyrical dancing. I can’t stop myself. I must dance too! Must dance! Soft lyrical music. Dance! Slowly, I step into Stage 3 movement, a combination of both wonderful music and wonderful company. How much more can I ask for? Santosha.
Five years ago on this day, I wake up from a dream about spiders and Kripalu. Morning sadhana is with Roger, a slow but stretchy class. Delicious, very spine-soaking. It felt like it was a 2-hour class, but I could have gone on forever.
Posture clinic with shoulderstand and fish. After Rudy demonstrates sarvangasana, Megha put on some “upside down” song, and we did a pantomime dance on our mats. “I spend more time planning goofball things to do in between sessions rather than the program itself,” she jokes.
Megha, the goofball guru
***
We do a 15-minute meditation with Rudy, during which I have a sudden flash of that icky spider dream. I hadn’t remembered it until then. A huge, black tarantula dangling off my hand. Aside from that, meditation felt great. I need that still time. I hear my cracks and pops as I settle and calm down. It is sunny and warm today. In the sun it feels like 65 degrees. Feeling better.
I eat lunch outside, soaking up the sun and warmth, eating my Asian tofu stir-fry with J. Amazing. The trees are almost bare, but it is spring weather. I didn’t even need a jacket. Afterward, I call Reservations and extend my stay by a day. I’m now leaving November 18, a Saturday, which means I can do one final DansKinetics! I figured that instead of losing both my friends and surroundings at once, I’ll take it in steps. I think making that decision put me in much better spirits.
***
Jurian’s birthday is today, the third during the program. We sing the Birthday Song in a round: “We wish you a happy birthday; A joyous and celebrated birthday; Our dear friend Jurian, May you have a long, long life!”
Jen 'n' Jurian, birds of paradise
We also find out that the Marketing and Development department, whose office is right behind our program room, loves our singing and has expressed interest in recording us to make a CD!
During posture clinic in the afternoon, Megha lets us go outside to soak up the sun. Sometimes we feel like little kids, being let loose, recess. It was only five minutes, but what a relief from gomukhasana and paripuna navasana.
***
Evening sadhana is with Larissa, who kicked our asses and got a lot of us fuming about what is Kripalu yoga and what is boot camp yoga. Her bhastrika breath nearly blew us away…and kind of scared us, too.
***
Angela Farmer is still here–still very royally intimidating. She just owns this place. If she looks at you, you feel like she’s looking through your soul. Every move is deliberate.
Five years ago on this day, I have fallen into the Kripalu emotion-suck, and as a result of doing nothing but contemplation and self-inquiry for the past two weeks, I am in the throes of an identity crisis.
When will my energy return? When will I surrender? Do I need to work on [the niyama] isvara pranidhana? I’m tired of struggling and fighting myself. Do I need to surrender to myself, my devotion? Surrender to my inner guru? I’m so tired of clinging. So tired. It’s exhausting me, wearing me out. My fingers, my heart, my head–I’m tired of clinging, grasping. Please just let me let go. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.
During meditation, we’re told to envision ourselves floating in a bubble on a body of water. I see myself on the Yangtze in the middle of the Three Gorges. What the hell does that mean? I’m a small, tiny bobbing bubble in the middle of two huge canyons, surrounded by looming intimidation. So small. That’s what I chose. Crap. My heart literally hurts. My jaw. My solar plexus.
***
This day. Has been. Crap. I have been so miserable, so glum, so pathetic. Emotional eating. I cried during my lunch walk. I called [my old workplace], got [former boss] instead of the voicemail and was suddenly sucked back into Real World crapola. That call made me sick.
***
Posture clinic all afternoon–so bloated, so TIRED. Megha and Rudy lead a sun salutation sadhana, and that was tough. Megha leads savasana, her theatrical voice repeating “annamaya kosha, pranamaya kosha…” like it’s a lullaby. I break down during savasana, lots of tears, lots of snot. I can’t even roll out of my fetal position for pranayama. Everyone Oms without me, but it is beautiful. I take it in and sink deeper into gratitude and melancholy. I stay in Shadowbrook, lightly sobbing, until 6:20. I have somehow reverted back to 14-year-old Jennifer.
Five years ago on this day, I am “trying hard to be yogic but failing.” Low energy. Feeling pathetic.
We started the morning with a round-robin sadhana, and I had no desire to be up there on that platform. I’m a teacher-in-training who’s afraid to teach. I try to be happy for my classmates but instead I envy their ambition and motivation. I am lowwwwww. I didn’t get to impress myself or others. I could have done it if I went up there, but I didn’t go up and I didn’t even try.
Yesterday, Atma talked to us about Swami Kripalu and the deep history of this place.
The session started off kind of weird, with Atma attempting to play the harmonium and chant, except she had trouble both playing and singing. The whole ordeal was very awkward. She then talked about being part of the initial Kripalu ashram, bowing to Swami Kripalu and Amrit Desai, choosing her guru over her mother, and not understanding one-on-one relationships and marriage. However, I did pick up two things: “Community is stronger than willpower” and the fact that we are part of the Kripalu lineage, a deep mystical past (Shiva > Swami Kripalu’s teacher, supposedly a reincarnate of Lord Shiva > Swami Kripalu himself > Amrit Desai > Megha/Rudy > us). Wow! What a cool thought.
***
Heard at Kripalu:
“She kept telling us to engage our perineum. I had no idea what it was or where to find it. Was it in me heart or somewhere else?!” ~Classmate Y (who’s Irish), on Angela Farmer’s class.
Roger: “Don’t worry, you’re all in the same boat.”
L: “In the same NAVASANA??”
LS (pretending to be impressed): “Oh wow, you speak Sanskrit?!”.
***
I felt so crappy this morning after that round robin. So full of doubt, so disappointed. I didn’t even rise to the challenge. I went into the morning session pretty bummed out, even when I walked into Shadowbrook and heard Sarah McLachlan’s beautiful rendition of “Rainbow Connection” playing. Dance music, lyrical dance music, graceful lyrical movement. It was so touching, but I wasn’t even there. I felt so low, like I’d been hit with a ton of bricks. I couldn’t even sing the student-teacher chant, and my Oms were pathetic.
But the mood lightened because we all got to put on theatrical skits about our experience here thus far, which were SO NEEDED and SO HILARIOUS. Skits about “roll up your mats, get cushions, put everything away, get everything out, relax, breathe, triangle, eat consciously for 5 minutes.” M and E did a fabulous Rudy and Megha impression, and others did a great job emphasizing the challenges here about relaxing, breathing, releasing, grounding, breakfast, lunch, dinner, bathroom breaks, etc. We all laughed hysterically, and for a Friday it was a very much-needed release. I laughed so hard my cheeks and chest hurt.
***
The day didn’t get much better, though. Posture clinic in downdog, and I was not there. I kept breaking out into mini tear sessions while learning about downdog. Practicing the dog tilt prep was really hard because my heart was so open and exposed. It actually hurt. It was maddening at what I had been reduced to.
We ended the posture clinic by an a cappella chanting of So Hum Shivo Hum, which was just so stirring, so soft, but so magnificent. It put me at ease for a few moments.
***
Cried to Bryan during lunch, then went for a walk outside as it began to snow. It snows all the time here–never enough to stick (not yet), but there’s usually light flakes falling around the clock. Maybe just for 10 minutes, maybe for an hour.
***
Our afternoon session was another anatomy and physiology class with Peggy, during which we stuck stickers all over our 22 major muscles. D and I were partners and were both ridiculously exhausted and unenthusiastic. Peggy wrapped cold spaghetti noodles in Saran wrap to demonstrate muscles and how they work. The skeleton fell off its stand and collapsed in her arms. We went into savasana as Peggy recited the names of our muscles.
***
Afternoon sadhana was with Roger, and we worked extensively with the bandhas, especially during kapalabhati and bhastrika pranayama. Wow–what a natural high! I could feel my chest light up with warmth and fire. Slowly, my foul mood began to lift. We did a lot of core work, intense stuff that actually raised my spirits. I did savasana in meditation-mode and felt pretty good afterward.
***
It’s Friday, so K, D, K, and I ate together, stuffing ourselves and discussing the Real World, wondering if we should extend our stays here to take some time to digest our 4 weeks of learning and have some time to ourselves. We lingered in the dining hall till almost 8, after which I called the Real World–[my yoga teacher from home]–for almost an hour. I did most of the talking, but it felt good to expel some of these Kripalu confusions. But after an hour of talking to the Real World, I emerged from the phonebooth feeling very out of place, like I had left Kripalu for an hour and just returned. It was strange; I felt like I had just returned to my childhood home, kind of awkward but so grateful to be back. I returned to the dorm, where a few of us chatted till 10, discussing Ayurveda, our Kripalu non-epiphanies, and the possibility of getting group yoga teacher tattoos. I went to bed late–11 p.m.!
Flowtation Devices 