Savasana, and then some.

Through the practices of yoga, we discover that concern for the happiness and well being of others, including animals, must be an essential part of our own quest for happiness and well being. The fork can be a powerful weapon of mass destruction or a tool to create peace on Earth. – Sharon Gannon

It’s October. Vegan MoFo has launched, and my month of yoga has limped across the finish line. I committed to practicing each day during September, and I think I did a decent job. I missed four or five days, which out of 30 is 16% or something. If I’d been taking an exam, I’d have about an 84%. I think. Someone with actual math skills may come along and tell me I was flirting with a D-.

Why am I trying to quantify my success? Why am I framing this in terms of success at all? I have no idea. I think I wanted—my expectations getting the best of me again—to have a yoga epiphany, to desperately long to spend hours practicing Sun Salutations. Instead, most evenings I dragged myself downstairs to my mat, yawning as I pushed back into Downward Dog and sighing with relief as I sank into Child’s Pose.

Y’all, I am tired. I don’t know why, but I just want to sleep for a week. If I could fall sleep on my back, I would have passed out during every Savasana like it was my job. (Why do I use the Sanskrit names half the time and the English translations the other half? I have no idea.) I was fidgety and itchy and wanted nothing more than to rush through my practice so I could go to bed. This happened more frequently than I care to admit.

At the same time, I noticed some changes. For one, I don’t need a class or a teacher or even a DVD to practice. For another, some days I can actually feel my body responding. I’m not a huge fan of the Warrior Poses or standing side bends, but I did them the other night. My obliques felt nicely stretched out the next morning. I reminded myself that I wasn’t half-assing it if all I could do was a few Cat-Cow rolls before bed, even if I did them in bed. I treated myself gently, shortening a practice when my right shoulder acted up. (What it’s acting up about, I have no clue. Maybe that’s my weaker side.) I think I can fold more deeply into Seated Forward Bend, though I definitely need to get back to weight-training if I want to get anywhere with arm balances.

I also discovered that I enjoy Seane Corn’s teaching style. I borrowed two of her DVDs from the library, and found the first one easy to follow and free of annoying yoga-speak. You know the kind. I was looking forward to the second DVD, but when I popped it in, I found…the first DVD. Again. The library had another copy of the first session in the second session’s case, with the second session nowhere to be found. I cracked up, then followed some of the practice anyway. I’m going to have to talk with the library when I return the DVDs.

I don’t think I’ll be practicing yoga every single day. Of course, I could be wrong. But I’m trying to listen to my body, and if sometimes my body just wants to take a long shower, paint her toenails, and go to bed early, that’s good too. I love yoga, and I’ve loved exploring it during this past month. Now I know that I can create my own practice (thanks, Eco Yogini!), and I’m more confident about deepening my relationship with yoga. And that means knowing when to take the night off.


Photo ripped from Zazzle.

Ramble on.

This will probably be short and nonsensical, as I’m trying to memorize the text of my friends’ wedding ceremony. It’s hard to do this quietly at work, since I can’t read it out loud, so I’ll probably resort to typing or writing it out until I can get Red to practice with me. Ahhh, takes me back to high-school theater. Only, you know, I’ll be marrying two of my friends, not fumbling my way through A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

I’ve also been twitchy and jumpy lately. My skin itches, and I have a hard time concentrating. It will pass soon, but it sucks to be in the middle of it.

Politely declined a piece of strawberry shortcake for a coworker’s birthday. Not as hard as declining cake made especially for me, but no one seemed to mind.

I am loving Rescue Ink’s book. Kudos again to Jill for running the contest and for keeping up with this grassroots tattoo pledge movement thing we’ve started! So far, three coworkers have come up to me asking, “Was that you in the paper?” One has asked to borrow the book when I’m finished. She’s a cat person and has opted to not get a tattoo, but is more than willing to donate when Rescue Ink comes to town. Her favorite rescue is Best Friends out in Utah, where Red and I would love to go someday.

Red and I attended an information seminar hosted by B-More Dog, a newish non-profit that has a special love for pitbulls. We learned a lot of new things about dog body language and social skills. We’re also going to try target-training Lucy—getting her to touch a hand, toy, whatever. It’s a good way to get your dog’s attention, and a neat trick to show off. The more we work with her, the better prepared she’ll be for more formal training and (fingers crossed) her CGC test.

Sweet Lucy needs a tiny bit of surgery. (Sad panda.) For the past few weeks, she’s had a callousy, scab-like bump on her elbow, and it’s not going away. It doesn’t seem to hurt her, but she’s rubbed it raw a few times and it’s in a really awkward spot. Her vet recommended that it be removed, then biopsied just in case. Since the bump is still small, probably about a half-inch in diameter, it’s better (and cheaper) to remove it now, before it gets bigger and requires more stitches. Lucy is a good patient—twice last winter she cut her paw on buried glass in the backyard, and took the repairs and pills like a champ—but is not so good at convalescing. She wants to run and play like usual, not understanding that she has to stay quiet and rest. One day last winter, I gave her a doggie pain pill in the hopes that it would zonk her out, but it did not. So far, the only thing that does the trick is full anesthesia. So we’ll have a dopey dog for one day, then a frustrated, full-of-pent-up-energy dog for the next week or so. Oh, and she won’t be allowed to lie on hard surfaces, so our house will be carpeted with blankets and cushions like the aftermath of some skanky swinger party.

Thanks to this third medical incident, Red and I are seriously considering buying her insurance. She’s only two, and if she keeps this up, either she needs to get a job or we need to get insurance to cover some of the costs. Good thing Springsteen tickets sold out before we could get them.

Coming up: The conclusion of Red’s vegan challenge, our vegan-friendly wedding reception, and the end of Yoga Month.

Lost my tail again.

A wedding reception recap is coming, I promise. It really and truly is. But first, I must share this valuable lesson:

Never take a yoga class on game day.

I cannot stress this enough.

Let me back up. The reception on Saturday was wonderful, as you will learn when I can think clearly enough to write about it. Wonderful and exhausting. Afterwards, I dropped my friend Jess off at the airport, went home, and (I think) went more or less right to sleep. We may have made popcorn and watched an episode of Mad Men first. I have no idea.

By the way, I missed two days of yoga. To be fair, they were the days I sort of expected to not find time to practice, due to reception insanity. Friday, Jess and I split a bottle of wine after setting up a million tables and chairs, and I wisely decided against drunk yoga. Saturday—well, I just told you about Saturday.

On Sunday, Red and I woke up very late and slightly out of sorts from all the organizing and cleaning and family-wrangling and partying. We’d probably eaten too many vegan desserts, as well. I decided that a yoga class was the perfect thing to soothe my tired muscles and get my head back to normal. There was a community class (read: cheap) late that afternoon, and I looked forward to it all day. There was also a football game, but whatever. Traffic was fine, and I was feeling confident and peaceful.

Until the street was closed.

To be clear, I’m pretty sure that street is the only way to get to the neighborhood where the yoga studio is located. And it was closed. Because of football. Oh, I was livid. In my frustration, I misjudged which street to take next, and ended up back on the freeway. Cursing a blue streak (how yogic of me), I gauged that I had enough time to get off the freeway and try again. I did, and: FAIL. For all my efforts, there was no way into that corner of the city. It was completely walled in by asshole drivers, rabid football fans, and unsympathetic traffic cops.

I was so looking forward to class, too. I drove home, feeling like Eeyore. I told Red my tale of woe, then sulked a little. Had you been there, we probably would have had a conversation like this:

Me: I hate the fucking Ravens.
You: I can tell.
Me: I hope they lose.
You: Actually, they won.
Me: Go screw.

I tried to salvage my practice by doing a short online Yoga Journal core sequence, which fell sort of flat because I only had one block and needed two to do the arm balances. My abs were sore the next day, though, so it worked on that level.

Moral of the story: my city goes insane for football, and woe betide her who tries to pursue her own agenda on game day. Oh well, as least the Ravens didn’t sign Michael Vick.

Yoga Month: Ninja Warrior edition.

I’m stunned: I’ve managed to practice yoga every day so far! I haven’t always been thrilled about it (oh, how my bed calls to me….), but I’m pleased to report that I have carved out small nuggets of yoga time from my ridiculously fractured schedule. And I think it has made a difference. I’m not calmer or anything, but I feel better knowing that I have a few minutes—maybe 10, maybe 40—of yoga to look forward to. For the most part, I’ve only been able to find time before bed. It’s funny to find myself yawning as I move through a slow Sun Salutation or try to balance in Tree Pose.

Some nights are better than others. Over the weekend, I tried a short restorative sequence that included a supported Shoulderstand with a chair. I don’t know about you, but trying to wedge a blanket under my shoulders while perching my butt on the edge of a folding chair and trying to angle my legs over its back was not restorative. Regular Shoulderstand is better.

Does this look relaxing to you? (eHow)

Another evening, I followed a TV sequence led by Sara Ivanhoe. The model (Sara? No clue) was silhouetted against the sunset, which was nice, except I couldn’t tell what she was doing. It might as well have been an audio practice! That was when I also learned that Half-Moon Pose is tougher than it looks. I ended up in a pile on the floor, wondering what had happened.

Tougher than it looks. (Yoga Journal)

Last night, I made another discovery. I was wiped out, but wanted to practice and dedicate it to a coworker who has just passed away. I never met him, but I was sad and the solemn energy around the office affected me. I tried what might be called mattress yoga—oh, that sounds dirty! Seriously, I sat in bed and went through Bound Angle Pose, Seated Forward Bend (love that nose-to-knee action!), a half-dozen rounds of Cat-Cow, Downward Dog, Child’s Pose, and Legs-Up-the-Wall. It would have been relaxing, had I thought through the logistics of mindfully dedicating my yoga practice while Ninja Warrior raged in the background.

It was totally not the husband’s fault. I was the one who decided to get my yoga on in bed, instead of the basement, which was just so far away. And when I could focus on my breath instead of the manic shrieks from the TV, I felt very centered. But I found myself peeking up from Child’s Pose to see what crackpot competitor had just faceplanted into the Lagoon of Death or fallen off the Log of Doom or whatever the hell else they do on Ninja Warrior. This then precipitated a discussion with Red about whether Ninja Warrior is actually popular in Japan, or if they just throw it together solely for export to the U.S. because we will watch anything. It was not conducive to prayers for the dead.

So, I learned something. Maybe there are people who can tune out any and all external distractions when they have to, and maybe one day I’ll be one of them. For now, though, my internal distractions are plenty, and when I practice, I need space and quiet. Namaste.

I think I can, I think I can....

Happy National Yoga Month! I didn’t even know that there was a month dedicated to yoga, but I’m happy to be enlightened. (Buddhist joke!) I have decided, literally three minutes ago, that I will make September a true celebration by getting my yoga on every day this month. Fortunately, I practiced at home last night, so I’m already off to a good start. I was pleased with myself: I was so angry and frustrated after my last post, and I knew I needed to do something with all that energy. (My Facebook status became, "Fuck, I need some yoga," which earned me a gentle but deserved admonition to watch my language.) So, rather than bitching or (worse) taking it out on Red, I retreated to the basement and rolled out my mat. After 30 or 40 minutes of Sun Salutations and restorative poses, I felt a million times better.

I could have chosen an easier month. We’ve got the reception next weekend, and one of my dear friends is flying in to spend a couple days with us. Free time is already at a ridiculous premium. But how is that any different from usual? There will always be conflicts and obstacles; it’s up to us to decide how we engage with them. Do we bulldoze them over, or work around them? I usually try the latter, which is why I’m pretty confident I’ll be able to manage 31 days of yoga.

Actually, this couldn’t have come at a better time: today, Eco Yogini declared her Personal Practice Adventure, her commitment to practicing at home at least one day a week. I realize now that framing a goal as a challenge galvanizes me. So often I flake out of doing yoga because I think it’s somehow more “authentic” to do it in a studio, where the lighting’s perfect, the music’s ethereal, and everything smells like a head shop. (Yeah, sometimes my house smells like that too.) This is a way for me to get back to what’s real, to focus on the process instead of the product that yoga is so often treated as.

I’m not fooling myself into thinking I’ll be practicing for an hour each night. Some days, I might have the time or energy for only a few Sun Salutations and a brief Savasana. Maybe all I’ll be able to do is hold Down Dog for a few minutes before bed. It’s the intention that I’m after, the awareness that I take my yoga with me wherever I go. Anything else is just icing.

I don't think I'll ever be able to do this one. Photo ripped from ashtangayoga.info.