Two halves of practice

I start practice. 

I know not where it will go.

Mind ambles, body follows, together we all practice, a trio lost in the beautiful wild ocean of yoga.

This evening, practice starts strong.

Ujjiya breath echoes through me like the oceanic wind.

Riding the wave, no stopping to rest in Dog Pose in Surya Namaskar A, just moving through each port calmly, rhythmically.

I continue on seamlessly through standing poses, bandha, breath, dristi, union, the only interruption is the troubled left side of Ardha Baddha Padmottanasana.  Hip joint misplaced, bone in the way.  I stay upright with knee bent, waiting patiently in bound half lotus for the swell of pain to ebb away from my hip, then continue on through the final standing poses.

The two warriors are done, vinyasa, I come to the end of my mat, and the switch turns off.

Is this the end, this dark, nowhere kind of place?

Dandasana…nothing.  It’s empty.

I lay back in Supta Baddha Konasana, and stay for 5 minutes. 

I gather my faculties and lift to Setu Bandha.

30 minutes of yoga have passed.

A whisper from far within, I listen then follow instructions and enter a familiar landscape: inversions.

Shoulderstand for 20 breaths, Halasana and Pindasana for 10.

Counting the breath helps to quieten the mind.

I am deeply quiet now.

Urdhva Padmasana brings momentary alarm – the back of my head is suddenly tender under pressure.  I worry about bursting blood vessels in my eye again.  I stay for 5 breaths.  Pressure recedes with Matsyasana.  Fear recedes.

I lose count in Headstand.

The ujjiyya breath is quieter now, barely there, sweet sweet baby breath.
I take the breath into Padmasana, bind hands to feet, look up, open up.
Then I bow, to the earth, bound, open and soft.

Malasana and a simple Pasasana twist, because I want to experience what that deep twist feels like again. 
5 years have passed since I did Pasasana in any form.  

Hello there lovely twist….remember me?

Practice is 60 minutes.

Savasana is 10.

The wild ocean is a friend and it’s good to be back…

Coming back

Four yoga practises in one week, all so different.

Last Tuesday, an evening Ashtanga Primary practice, 90 minutes, with full vinyasas.

Last Friday, another evening practice though a more difficult one.  Started with a backbend over a block, then did some seated poses, Shoulderstand, some Supta poses, a surprisingly therapeutic Hanumanasana, and a couple of backbends - only 30 minutes.

Yesterday morning, Ashtanga Sun Salutes and standing poses, handstands, backbends, Janu Sirsasana, then the full Ashtanga finishing sequence of inversions from Shoulderstand through to Uth Pluthi.

This evening, a sequence from Light on Yoga starting with 6 minutes in both Headstand and Shoulderstand, progressing through Jatara, the two Navasanas, seated forward bends and twists, Padmasana poses, gentle backbends, Savasana and some pranayama.

Somewhere in the middle I submerged into a 5 minute Paschimottanasana.

It feels so good to be back…

Resting in Peace

My husband died last Friday morning at 5.30am.
Myself and our two beautiful children were with him.

It was the culmination of two and a half weeks on a traumatic emotional roller coaster - we'd kept a round the clock vigil next to his bed in intensive care during that time.

It all started when he phoned me in the early hours of Monday 20 September - he was in unbearable pain with paralysed legs. The ambulance team were there in a flash.

In the following 5 days he had four major operations - in the second operation his left leg was amputated above the knee, in the fourth one his right leg was amputated just below the thigh.
Before each operation we assured him he'd be fine.
Before each operation the surgeons told us it was unlikely he'd survive.

But he's mighty tough.

I spent over 6 hours sitting with him in the hospital each day after that. Our two children did the same. We all shared the ups and downs while watching him hooked up to the life support machines, the ticking, beeping, monitoring, the dialysis machine, the diabolically fluctuating blood pressure numbers, oxygen levels...adjustments were made to medication flows hourly, we went home exhausted each day and researched the drugs they'd administered, and there were oh so many little victories and disappointments on his way to recovery. He seemed to be getting better each day, more alert, able to smile cheekily and talk a little bit last week.

And the three of us gave him so much love during that time.
We never gave up on him.

Then came the call at 1am last Friday. We all met urgently at the hospital. He was in great pain, couldn't breathe. They couldn't operate. And life support was no longer an option. The pain killers and sedatives worked fast and he faded from consciousness just after we arrived, the intestinal hole leaking out stuff that was fast poisoning him.

It was a full moon morning.

We sat with him for those last 5 hours, holding his hands, watching the life drain out of him, all of us crying as the pauses between his raspy breaths got longer and longer.
I stroked his hair, kissed his forehead, and told him it was all OK, he was safe and we all loved him so much.  But the drugs had already taken him far away.
Then in a moment of great anguish my son leaned over his chest, put his arms around him and sobbing said 'I love you dad'. It was then that he breathed out his last breath.

He fought a mighty battle right to the end.

And now he rests in peace...

Beyond

I rise from Savasana altered.
Looking outwards through a calm, clear lens,
looking inwards through the same.
Inner and outer merge.

Yoga practice moves self through layers,
effortlessly piercing and opening, so that self can
glide towards centre.
Centre opens into infinite space.
Centre is beyond.

I rest beyond.
Then continue further in,
to the dark, beautiful, eternal galaxy.

Double escape

I resigned and gave 2 weeks notice.
Then headed off into the bush for my one week of annual leave.
That was last week.
This week I'm back at work for my final 3 days - tying up loose ends, handing over, and allocating responsibilities to other staff.

Camping alone in a remote area of the northern Flinders Ranges last week provided the physical and mental space to calm down and view this lifetime both intimately and objectively.
I meditated, did yoga, meditated, climbed mountains, meditated...and slept.

It was a temporary escape from an oppressive, stressful working environment.
My resignation was the ultimate escape.

Some random notes from my camping journal:

View from mountain over river bed and road to Blinman

Tuesday 30 July 2013

Arrived at Parachilna Gorge at 5.30pm after a 6 hour drive from Adelaide.

I wanted to camp by the river bed at the end of the unused path, but driving in there was my second big challenge (the first was the 6 hour drive).
Large boulders block the path to prevent access - I had to drive my little city car down around them, then back up the short steep rocky embankment onto the path, through a pond of mud, then down another steep rocky drop to get to the stony river bed and the hidden camping spot.

Those 2 minutes of driving terrified me.

Spinning wheels up and over rocks the thoughts rushed in: my car might tip upside down, or roll over, or get stuck halfway, or my tyres would be ripped to shreds and I'd either be left to die alone, or I'd die of extreme fear.

Hours later, after putting up my tent in a state of anxiety, the flood of adrenaline and panic hormones had not subsided. I could feel the aftermath of hormonal overdose still in my bloodstream and organs. Then apprehension and fear set in about having to do it all AGAIN to get OUT of the campsite in a few days. The terror, the fear, the blind worry, the debilitating negative thoughts and disaster scenarios that I concocted about driving up and down that rocky embankment were what I sat with in my meditation and investigated for 3 days.

Campsite

 Today's achievements:

1) I left Adelaide on time, against all the odds. If I hadn't, I would have easily given in to my easy-way-out voice and cancelled the trip. Only by recognising and overcoming negative thoughts, and pulling out all stops to make it happen, did I get away on time.
2) I easily managed the 6 hour dive
3) I found my way to the campsite.
4) I confronted the very real fear about driving over the rough rocky terrain to the campsite
5) I worked out how to put up my brand new tent (had to move it 3 times on the rocky ground before I found a spot where all the pegs would go in)

My fresh greens: lettuce and sunflower sprouts

Wednesday 31 July

Up at 6.30am - caught the sunrise.
Night was very cold (2 degrees) but I stayed warm in the tent.

1 hour and 15 minutes of sitting before breakfast - of that, perhaps 7 minutes of being present. Slipped in and out of conscious awareness, buried alive in a non-stop avalanche of thoughts about work.

Thursday 1 August

Sitting in silence, watching thoughts, the neural patterns are magnified: I am always in the future, worrying.
This habitual worry habit and anxiety began after Mark died. The shock of his death fried my brain. Rewiring the synapses and changing the mind's well worn footpaths will take some serious work.


Buddhist meditation practice helps: Sit and let go, relax and release the mind's grip.
Let go of attachments to outcomes, attachments to everything, desires, thoughts of the past, thoughts of the future. Let go of fear: fear of not knowing what to do, fear of being incompetent, paralyzed.

Practice being FULLY PRESENT, clear and free.



Friday 2 August

The sun is shining. It is cool.
Strong wind blowing in from the west
Tent flapping wildly, but secure.
Alive.

I pick up one of the books I brought with me: 'Perfect Clarity: a Tibetan Buddhist Anthology of Mahamudra and Dzogchen'. Teachings from Padmasambhava, Yeshe Tsogyal, Longchempa, Milarepa, and other celebrities of this tradition. Reading it takes me back to my training in emptiness, clarity, purity of mind.
It's been so long since I worked at this level.

The exotic terminology in the book is offputting, but the teachings are vast and extraordinary.  Practical instructions for deep, delicate and sophisticated mind surgery.

I sit...

Day 3 of retreat

Dawn. I walk over the sleepy grey dunes and down onto the beach...a solitary silhouette imprinting soft, cool, sensuous sand.

The sun peeks over the dunes behind me. The full moon is fading, and quiety setting over the ocean, still watching over her watery kingdom.

In the bay, a few early fishing boats; along the shore, hungry, chatty birds that flutter away in waves as I approach.

The beach is breezy, seaweedy, wild and pristine.

Me and the rising sun are waking and walking together.

This is Day 3 of my monthly camping trip.

At the end of the horseshoe bay I can survey and drink it all in, this scene, this lifetime. To sit with a softened mind and loving heart, noble, serene, grateful, is to come home to, and rest in eternity.

From here I look back feeling great sorrow and compassion for that person (me) who gets stuck in the sticky mental web of work, caught like a frantic buzzing fly in emails, messages, deadlines, problems, busyness, the frenzy of going nowhere and trapped in my own mental merry go round.

Out here on the peninsula I calmly disengage once again, bit by bit peeling away the sticky web, breathing in the salty air and the expanse of the early morning sky.

Sensing my approach a lone seagull takes a few quick steps, runs and lifts off, gliding effortlessly over the water and with a turn of her wing she circles around downwind, sailing low and swift across the water on the breeze.

I know that feeling!

It's deep in my body's memory: the initial take off, the gliding turn, the freedom of the ride.

How can I know that? 

Searching back somatically through my memory banks, I recall flying small aircraft in my late teens, but that's not it.
Aaahhh...surfing, that's it! The fast paddle, the take off, riding and turning with the energy of the wave. I miss surfing. 

I'm walking back over the dunes towards the campsite in the sunlit morning now. The shadows seem warmer, the dunes brighter, the morning colours less intimate. The sun's up there shining for everyone now. Our quiet walk together in the half dark dawn rests calm in my heart. 

Returning to the tent, I sit for an hour, relishing the time to just be nowhere in silence.

Morning Yoga

I move deeply and intuitively in and through each asana, sensing the unique subtle sensations, shifts and internal cleansing that comes from each pose.

Standing poses are strong, connected to earth and connected to breath, they've become conduits for drawing a powerful energy in and up through the channels and fortifying the body.

My body/mind needs lotus poses today.

Supta Padmasana challenges my deep internal musclature and psychological holdings. The psoas gradually releases it's gripping as I lower my padmasana legs to the ground. The descent is precarious, skirting the edge of danger. I don't want to do the other side, and this sparks a battle between good and evil, willpower versus bratty ego - good wins out and I do the other side. It's so much easier than the first side.
In Matsyasana, I recall the large fish I picked up on the beach this morning - she was beautiful and I felt deeply sad for her death. Baddha Padmasana seals the sequence.

Yesterday's backbends exposed some deeply held fears and insecurities about who I am and what I'm capable of doing. Today I'm more relaxed and open, my heart less gripped by the subtle anxiety that pervades my everyday life, less caught in the small self and it's dramas. The release is not only physical, but also psychological.

I need to do backbends every day.

Today's backbends are no less challenging than yesterdays, such is yoga practice when mind and body are strongly connected. You go further, deeper, quieter.... You test and challenge and stay longer to explore the restrictions of body and mind. You sense more with that focussed mircoscopic vision and clear awareness that moves around the internal landscape.

Today the energetic shifts in the backbends are small but powerful...Salabhasana, Dhanurasana, Ustrasana, Setu Bandha, all done twice with commitment to staying. Urdhva Dhanurasana three times.

Then the full finishing sequence, long holds in everything.

No Headstand - the tent isn't quite high enough.

I finsh up with Janu Sirsasana, Parivritta Janu Sirsasana and a long Paschimottanasana.

...and a sweet, sweet, seaside Savasana.

Walk the dog, and be the dog

Sarah wrote a gentle yet inspiring post about caring for ones wellbeing through a daily yoga practice.

Here is a taste:


How much we are willing to do for the wellbeing of another varies from person to person, but many of us will take on tasks of cooking meals, walking dogs, running errands, taking on jobs and all manner of responsibilities to benefit those we care about. 

Can we program each day with the time to take care of our self?

A personal practice, whether yoga or meditation, requires the same approach as walking the dog. 

Imagine that in your practice you are both the dog and the dog-walker.

It doesn't matter what the weather is, or how late you were up last night, that wet nose is there in your face to say, "Aren't we going now?" One simply cannot say to the dog, "not today." Imagine that your health and well being relies upon that half hour, and see your self staring at you with that query of "Are we going now?"


The full post is here

Thank you again Sarah.  Your posts so often guide me back on track.