I just got through watching this video from the TED conference in Monterey, California, February 28. Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor, a neuroanatomist, recently gave an chat about her life-altering experience of a brain stroke. This emotionally charged story is going to spread like wildfire because it captures a vital life story and marries it to both science and spiritual insight. I'm still reeling from my first viewing so just don't mind me and set aside 18 minutes to be astounded.
Her website also contains a link to her self-published book, My Stroke of Insight through lulu.com. I got on to this because the New York Times featured it on the Well blog.
TED is heavy-weight conference that deals in thinkers of great ideas and doers of impressive deeds — and good story tellers. TED stands for Technology, Entertainment, Design. It's worth exploring.
Labels: brain_science, inspire, philosophy, videos
You can see a historic video of Iyengar from the same period.
Labels: history, inspire, philosophy, videos, workshop
The workshop this past weekend was a milestone in my practice. I've been noticing a shift in my focus on yoga for several weeks now. I notice how incomplete I feel when I'm not able to get to class and how energized and alive I feel when I have done a good practice. When I was traveling, I made it a point to reserve an hour or two in the evenings to roll out my mat and do some work. What a glow this solitary practice gives to your body and mind as you move through the vinyasa moved only by the rhythm of your own breath! No instructor, no audio cues.
I came to yoga four years ago because I wanted to reap from its benefits — yoga for depression, anxiety, and heart aches; yoga to deal with back pain and aging; yoga for losing weight and gaining flexibility. The US market is full of this message. I still want those pluses, but I noticed that I am motivated less by the benefits and more by the practice itself. The most succinct explanation I've heard for this attitude is Shiva Rea saying that she was not interested in "doing yoga," but rather in "being yoga." That shift in focus makes a big difference. I not only get the same benefits as before, but they seem to be compounded because they are unencumbered by the resistance and tension that build up when I am specifically seeking an outcome; I become aware of other aspects of my practice that I failed to sense because I was targeting my efforts too narrowly.
In a sense, my purchase of a new mat and other paraphernalia and my participation in the workshop is a long-term investment in my yoga practice. It's not just a hobby, a pastime or a fitness exercise, but an integral part of my self-image and a tool in my personal development. I am taking a stake in the future.
And this past weekend, I celebrated my four-year anniversary by tapping into a shared energy and flow with other yogis who also realize the prospects of the discipline and rejoice in the varied stages of practices that others might bring to the mat. In other words, no novice, no expert, just yogis sharing the reward of the practice. Beryl told us that in India yoga was originally meant to be practiced in a group setting, in the neighborhood shala with other practitioners. She was so right. I was fortunate to celebrate this milestone in the studio that has been my shala for the past three years.
I've just spent three days focused on yoga with Beryl Bender Birch at a Thrive Yoga workshop. I am writing this posting on a staggered basis because I'm still putting my thoughts together about the workshop.
Beryl has been a pioneer of introducing yoga in the United States, starting nearly 35 years ago. She now operates out of the Hard and the Soft Yoga Institute on Long Island and has taught several generations of yoga instructors. She built up traction teaching yoga to athletes in New York City in the 1980s. She coined the phrase Power Yoga as a more appropriate tag for Ashtanga yoga that American could understand. She also wrote two books, Power Yoga and Beyond Power Yoga: 8 Levels of Practice for Body and Soul, that were among the first to reach a broader audience.
We had four 2.5 hour sessions, one Friday, two on Saturday and one on Sunday. In the second Saturday session, we did a restorative pose for 15 minutes and closed with a meditation. In between, Beryl distributed a half dozen different translations (or interpretations) of Patanjali's Yoga Sutras and had us read them out loud. Then, she led us in a discussion of what yoga is, why we practice it and what we want to obtain. That was one of the traits of her teaching. In our first class before doing a jump-back or starting ujayay breath, she held up her hand with about an inch between thumb and index finger and said, "Yoga is this much about asana." The conversation was lively and informative.
For the actual practice, Beryl led us through the Ashtanga Primary Series. It was my first time following a traditional sequencing of poses, though many were modified for practitioners who had not mastered a specific pose.
I think that the appeal of a workshop is the chance to discover the alchemy of shared practice, bringing together an experienced teacher and a roomful of bodies and minds focused on getting the most out of the opportunity. 50-60 sets of lungs churning up the prana in unison -- that's some pretty powerful magic. Beryl did an excellent job of creating the right atmosphere. She always spent the first 30 minutes of a session building up a rapport with the students, giving us an idea of where she wanted to take us, letting us tap into her wisdom and getting a feel for how we could handle the work.
There were actually students who had not taken more than 10 hours of yoga before the workshop. On the other hand, several yoga instructors who had trained under Beryl also showed up for the workshop. At several points, Beryl stopped a student from doing the vinyasa and had them looked at other students as they did the practice: "You can learn as much from watching as from doing."
Beryl had a nice gesture at the end of the final session: she brought out a box full of yoga books (a few courtesy copies but most purchased with her own funds) and she gave them away to the students. Spread the wisdom!
Alan Little tagged me and then forgot to tell me, and I did not check out his blog until two days later -- so I've already blown the eight-hour deadline. The premise is that I have write about eight random facts about me. Here goes:
- I did the pre-production coordination in Peru (government liaison, media contacts, customs clearances) for Shirley McClain's bio-pic "Out on a Limb" and then failed to charge Hollywood rates for the work I did -- boy, was I dumb!
- I was invited twice to spend extended weekends with my wife, all expenses paid, at Arthur Hailey's home in Nassau, Bahamas because he wanted me to read drafts of his novel about a journalist's adventure in Peru, The Evening News.
- I don't write long hand, but print as if I was still in elementary school. I've done this since high school when I was bored with taking notes in history class and decided to add a degree of difficulty to the task.
- I was the character Potzo in "Waiting for Godot" by Samuel Beckett in my senior year of college. The actor who was going to play Potzo backed out and I was the understudy. I was skinny so I padded out with blankets and towels, wore abundant makeup and a plastic skull cap so that I could be bald. During the play, I perspired so much that water poured out from under my fake nose in the middle of my dialogue. My friends told me that my acting was brilliant -- but since no one could recognize me under all the makeup and costume, I did not get any cred on campus.
- I sang a capella in the madrigal singers of my high school. Now I can barely carry a tune.
- When I was in college, I used to perform mime, picked up from watching a street mime in Lima, Peru.
- My favorite novelist when I was an adolescent was Robert Heinlein.
- I tried to sell Bibles and reference books door-to-door in South Carolina in the summer after my freshman year. It was sheer torture and I gave up after six weeks -- I was stubborn.
Here are the rules for the next generation:
- Each player starts with 8 random facts/habits about themselves.
- People who are tagged, write a blog post about their own 8 random things, and post these rules.
- At the end of your post you need to tag 8 people and include their names. Don't forget to leave them a comment and tell them they're tagged, and to read your blog.
- If you fail to do this within eight hours, you will not reach Third Series or attain your most precious goals for at least two more lifetimes.
I am tagging:
- Stephanie
- Raj Waghray
- I'm even worse than Alan; I can't come up with anyone else off the top of my head or skimming through my e-mail. I guess my circle of friends and acquaintances don't have blogs that allow them to respond to being tagged.
While shaving (beard and scalp) this morning, I realized that it had not always been so easy. For the past 10 years, at least, I have cut my own hair, basically buzz-cutting my hair to the smallest setting on the electric hair clipper. This year, I have gone even further and applied an electric razor to give me the billiard ball look. It used to be that I could never get my right hand to reach the left side of my head; I'd have to switch the clipper or razor to my left hand. I noticed this morning that I don't have to make the switch anymore, unless my right arm becomes fatigued from the awkward position. I attribute this improved range to my yoga practice -- what else could it be. All my time spent in downward-facing dog has served a purpose.
I went for the shaved head look as a gesture in support of my brother, Richard, who was undergoing treatment for lung cancer and losing his hair involuntarily. After an operation, chemotherapy and radiation treatment, his doctors have declared the cancer in remission, allowing him to look forward to some semblance of normalcy in his life. I don't know if I am going to stop shaving my head. I kinda like it -- a Buddha look that goes with my increased emphasis on mindfulness.
I chanced upon this video montage and it really struck home. I need to remember its message. It's inspired by Carl Sagan, one of my intellectual mentors from a distance, and the Hubble space telescope.
Labels: inspire
I have always been amazed at yogis (and yoginis like Ana Forrest) who can accomplish amazing feats of balance and strength even though they do not appear to be overpowering in strength. This morning I chanced across a YouTube video of an example. I had seen Mark Giubarelli's website years ago when he just had flip cards of poses. Big difference now.
I am running into more and more videos of yoga online, from highly polished productions to the equivalent of a webcam pointing to the back of a room. Just put Ashtanga into a YouTube search, and it brings up scores of video on which you can waste your time instead of practicing yoga. Then again, when you're trying to crack the secret of getting into handstand from crow, it's great to have a video demonstration because it so immediate, direct and palpable. It would take hours of reading instructions to understand it. On the other hand, the written word is great for revealing things that are not evident to the eye -- where should your drishtri be focused.
Labels: edge, inspire, yoga_resource
Last month, Teresa and I took a long postponed vacation, five days in Orlando, Florida. For two days, Teresa kept me running to the Gulf and Atlantic coasts so that she could satiate her thirst for the ocean -- white sands, waves and sun. We stopped at the Kennedy Space Center for a couple of hours, not long enough to take the whole center in. We also spent one full day at Epcot Center, Disney World and also another day shopping for gifts and bargains at the outlets that tempt the tourists to delay their return to the Magic Kingdom. Teresa complained that we had waited 15 years too long: we should have brought the kids to Orlando when they could have enjoyed it. Of course, in those days, we couldn't have afforded it.
For me, the highlight of the trip was the Cirque du Soleil, the Canadian ultra-circus, had a resident show, La Nouba, at Disney World. I had seen Cirque du Soleil on television and was intrigued by the concept. But TV or phtographs could never capture the electricity and scope of the performance. First of all, the Disney World show is presented in a custom-built freestanding theater so it is a magical setting. The lighting, the set and wings were exploited to increase the impact. The audience was seated in the round and the actors frequently ventured into the audience. I thought the music was recorded but there was a full musical band seated in the elevated wings and the singers roamed the stage.
House Troupe, Cirque du Soleil's La Nouba at Disney World
© The Walt Disney Company
Costume credit: Dominique Lemieux
Once the lights came down and the show got underway in earnest, I gasped. It was overwhelming; I felt as if my senses were insufficient to take it all in. My eyes were darting back and forth trying to catch all the action. As the performers soared through the air, danced across the stage, balanced on the edge and tumbled, it suddenly occurred to me that I was seeing something that I aspired to in my own yoga practice. The grace and strength, the imagination and dexterity, the playfulness and wit that drove the performance were the essence of my intention when I stepped onto the mat. Not that I could ever aspire to the sheer athleticism and skill that the Cirque du Soleil cast displayed, but that joy and courage could propel my own body as it flew out of downward-facing dog to forward bend or balanced in crow.
Teresa in front of the Big-Tent-style theater where we saw La Nouba
A week later, I was in Barbados at an evaluation for a new online education program that CICAD, my employer is sponsoring. After our last session, I went back to my room and did a yoga practice on my balcony -- maybe it was something magical about Caribbean seas, winds, sand and sun. As I stretched out in side plank, my top arm reaching high and my shoulders arching back, my vision just took in the blue sky above the railing and it felt if I were balanced precariously on a high wire, and in a daring flourish, I lifted my top leg into tree position, resting my foot on my thigh. It was all an illusion, a trick of tunnel vision and concentration on my practice, but it was also a seed of intention.
For purposes of clarity, I am adding the explanation of the term "La Nouba" because there's no way of know what it means. I says through the entire show and I did not get. Of course, I did not buy a program.
La Nouba originates from the French phrase "faire la nouba," which means to party, to live it up. It transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary, engaging the imagination from beginning to end with opulent sets, brilliant choreography, theatrical lighting and provocative music.
Postscript:
Debra Perlson-Mishalove told me that she had read that many cast members of Cirque du Soleil practice yoga. It wouldn't surprise me. Yoga Journal has a mention of cast members in a yoga class.
I've shaved off all my head hair. It was a minor piece of hair styling since I've been wearing my hair as a buzz cut for the past six years, but it was for a big cause, at least for my family.
My younger brother, Richard, was diagnosed with lung cancer in December. This came as a shock since he has never smoked and always had a healthy life style. He got married in October 2005, and cancer is not a good way to start of a marriage. Fortunately, Susan, a neonatal nurse, took the news in stride and has been a tremendous support for Richard throughout the whole process. He underwent surgery to remove about a quarter of his left lung and is now receiving chemotherapy (now getting over his second treatment, which sent him to the hospital for a day because of an adverse reaction). His hair has started falling out and he's shaved it all off. I told him that I would keep my head shaved until he had recovered completely.
More importantly, I believe, I reminded him about the value of meditation in getting through pain and suffering. As a Christmas gift him, I sent him a copy of Full Catastrophe Living: Using the Wisdom of Your Body and Mind to Face Stress, Pain, and Illness by Jon Kabat-Zinn. He had done a research project on biofeedback and was familiar with the idea. He even had some meditation tapes, which he dug out of the boxes remaining from his move to a new home. He says that the meditation has helped him a lot when he's feeling the worst side effects of the therapy.
I hope my karma is not reduced by my liking my new Kojak/Michael Jordan look, which I may keep for good. And it also begs the question of whether it means anything if most of your hair has already turned gray and fallen out.
Washington Post The Writing Life: "There's a mystery about creative writing, but it's a boring mystery unless you're interested in this one small animal, sometimes quite vicious, that makes its home in the bushes. It's a scruffy little thing with fleas and often smells of whatever nasty mess it's been rolling in. It can never be more than semi-domesticated and isn't exactly known for its loyalty." I have never been a big Stephen King fan -- I have never read one of his books, which must make me a minute minority in the first decade of the 21st century. But I respect him a lot as a writer because he has produced, because he writes because he has to, because it's his life force.
I chanced across this article on the Web by accident, but something made me read it. I have a hard time getting into this piece that appeared in the Book World section of the Sunday Post. But once I got passed the fourth paragraph, his message hit me square in the butt. And done with such deceptive ease and self-deprecating humor. I got up, hunted down the weekend's stack of newspapers, found the hard copy and clipped it. It will be hung on the wall above my computer monitor. Hopefully, I will remember its core of truth each day that I try to write.
I am not going to summarize King's ideas here; just check it out yourself if you are interested in being creative, writing, digging deep. At least, this glimpse of truth made me put together these few lines, and also start writing about some other ideas that had been nipping at my heels for weeks.
Labels: inspire
