Living in Santosha - The Gift of Giving It Forward

Bangunan Sultan Abdul Samad in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
A UNESCO World Heritage Site

I took a night shot of the beautiful, iconic Sultan Abdul Samad building in the heart of my city, Kuala Lumpur, last Saturday, 18 July. Built in the late 1800s, this landmark is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site. 

Take a walk behind the dark lanes and narrow alleys that surround this attraction and you'll see a different side of KL. The homeless, sleeping on concrete, cardboards or newspapers along poorly lit corridors, some reeking of cheap alcohol, drinking themselves into a deep slumber so that they can forget the meaning of extreme hunger; some utterly exhausted from a day of rummaging through the city's dustbins collecting cans and plastic bottles, hoping to earn a few dollars from the recycling centre; and some just having nowhere else to go after their families gave up on them and kicked them out to the streets.

My 3 friends and I volunteered to be part of a movement called "Giving It Forward Today" (GIFT) to distribute food to 2,000 of KL's homeless that night. It was the second day of the Eid Mubarak festive celebration here in Malaysia. Unsure where to "find" these people, we were also concerned for our safety, as we had to walk through stinky, poorly lit lanes, abandoned shops, and unsavory business establishments, carrying heavy carton boxes of food packs. 

It was indeed a pleasant experience to be greeted with smiles and gestures of gratitude as we handed out the food packs to the homeless (some had to be woken up from their drunken stupor). An old, almost toothless man even recited a prayer of blessing ('Doa Kesyukuran') to us as he received his meal. As we had more than enough to distribute, we offered them two food packs each. To our surprise, most said "one is enough, thank you".

One. Just one. From someone who couldn't remember when his last meal was, and has no idea when his next one will be. 

This evening's humbling message was Santosha...the contentment of accepting life as it is, and finding the 'enough' in moment-to-moment experience. 
I wonder how many of us truly can?

"Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible" - Dalai Lama.

The Hour of the Gods

In Yoga, "Brahma Muhurta" (or The Hour of the Gods) is defined as that magical time approximately 2 hours before sunrise. This is the best time to do our Pranayama or Meditation practice, followed by Asana, as it is when our Sattvic qualities rise to the surface, and the mind is quiet and free from distractions.

Brahma Muhurta outside Prana Yoga KL, TTDI, Malaysia

As I arrived at my studio (at what some would say at a "God forsaken hour") to teach my 6.30am class yesterday, I looked up at the dark sky and saw the New Moon smiling down onto the world. It was just a sliver...cheeky even... as if to hold onto its presence as long as She could, before dawn breaks and Surya illuminates the world and reveals her warmth. 

I sat down on the bench by the fountain, crossed my legs in Sukhasana, and sipped in the crisp, dewy morning air. A Nepalese guard who was patrolling the grounds walked by, his face in half shadows. He nodded at me, and put his hands in Namaste as a silent greeting. I was grateful for the absence of the usual "Good morning, Ma'am". I couldn't help but think of his family back in Nepal, in light of the recent (and still ongoing) earthquakes that shook the nation who already had nothing, and now left with even less.

I closed my eyes, savouring that special window of silence and blessedness, and did a short, 15 minute meditation.

A New Moon. New Beginnings. A time for reflection, recharging and replanting the seeds of intentions, fearing less, dreaming big, and manifesting that the Universe delivers.

Om Namah Shivaya.

xx

A Letter To Me

The 6:05 Standing Split

My dear,

Not quite the perfect "6 O'Clock", and looking more like a 6:05 on most days,
this IS your Standing Split. Remember the first time you stepped onto your yoga mat? You could barely reach past your shins, let alone grab your ankles with both hands and KISS your shin. When you signed up for teacher training, there was nothing in the training manual about being 'perfect', visually nor spiritually.

With the explosion of yoga on social media, it's pretty easy to be sucked into the trap of wanting to 'look' perfect. Remember why you practice in the first place. Do you practice to express, or to impress?

Yoga is not a be-all-end-all practice to gain mastery in something. Some days you make progress, and some days you regress - learn to be okay with it. Embrace the flux and uncertainties, ride the highs, laugh at the lows, and let the authenticity of the practice reveal itself.

The daily practice of yoga creates tapas (heat). This deep, internal heat that burns away the "could have's" and the "should have been's" will eventually make space for a deeper and more personal exploration. Learn to trust the journey, and remain open to what might be.

After all, darling, you were born to be real, not to be perfect.

xoxo

Get Twisted To Untangle

I have to confess. I dislike twisting postures. I avoid them like a plague in my personal practice (except for the supine twists at the very end, right before Savasana). When attending classes, trainings or workshops, I cringe every time we are asked to twist, and I break out in cold sweat when the twist involves a bind! I go mental, and my Ujjayi breathing sounds like a dragon about to go into labour, as I corkscrew my spine and contort my short arms into something that remotely resembles a version of the graceful demo by the teacher in the front of the room.

This twist, I can marinade in. Gimme gimme gimme!

So, imagine my horror when a dear friend and mentor, invited me to co-host a 15-Day Instagram Challenge involving twists. 15 Days of twists?? Easy for you, if you have long, rubbery limbs and liquified butter as joints! 

As I sat down to write down my contribution to the Challenge, I pondered on why I loathe twists. You often hear the saying, "the poses that you dislike, are the ones you need the most in your practice". Sure, we have heard the whole nine yards on how twisting asanas can benefit you physically and mentally. They keep the spine healthy, relieves spinal decompression (especially in the lumbar), detoxes your gut, lubricates your joints, tones the abdominal muscles, trims the waist, aids in digestion, and energizes the mind. And yet, all of this does not seem enough to motivate me to include twists diligently in my daily asana practice (not even "trims the waist"!).

Parivrtta Trikonasana (Revolved Triangle Pose) had me fumbling
and wobbling all over the mat during my early Ashtanga days.

Perhaps it was a sign from the Universe to approach twists from a different angle, and look at the subtler silver lining, rather than the obvious positives highlighted in every yoga magazine that's been published.

As I dived into my practice and posted twists after twists on Instagram, I started to identify with my aversion to twists. I discovered little physical imbalances and limitations in range of motion, that would so often be labeled by many as "the weaker side", and it dawned on me, that the poses I shunned were actually compounded by feelings of inadequacy and the need to avoid unpleasantness.

Baddha Parivrtta Parsvakonasana
Far from being 'perfect' with the back heel up, but
my practice is mine and mine alone to feel
alive, free and loved.

With just a few more days to the end of the Challenge, I pretzel myself into Baddha Parivrtta Parsvakonasana (Bound Side Angle Pose), with new insight into this purification process. As I surrender into the bind, I find internal expansiveness, setting myself free from the self-imposed obsession on how I should look in the pose. "There is no such thing as the perfect pose. It's all about the practice", I often say to my students. Time to walk the talk, sister!

Like a jar of pasta sauce, you'll need a good twist to get to the yummy stuff. Don't let something you dislike tie you up in knots. It may take a while to finally see the light, but hey, that's why the journey of yoga in itself is far more important than the final destination.

Namaste.

Make That One Idea Your Life

My Students, My Inspiration

I received a beautiful gift, all the way from Tbilisi, Georgia this morning. 

The 5 beautiful souls that were in my teacher training last Fall, got this pendant custom-made for me. It spells my name in Georgian. I am so touched that they remembered me asking how to write my name in the local language when we were having our last team lunch together back then. The thought and the gift are indeed very special, and something that I will cherish dearly.

Fast forward to the present, these ladies have grown by leaps and bounds, found their authentic teaching voices and let their inner confidence shine. They truly are a capable bunch (and I'm not talking about getting into extreme poses like putting one leg behind the head either). I love their efforts to support each other in their yoga practice, and the community programs they have in place, to bring yoga off the mat... and in a country that they do not even call home.

There is certainly no better reward than to see them blossom in their yoga journey and in life. 

They inspire me, and they make me a better teacher.

Thank you, Eniko Pianovszky, Katarina Skogen, Hilary Adams, Diane Delpozo and Kate Smart.

May your inner fire continue to illuminate others on the path of yoga.

Om Namaha, Gratitude and Blessings.

Stranger in a Familiar Land

Almost each year, I'd find myself traveling (alone) back to Australia. I'd spend a couple of weeks surfing the couch in my bestie's living room, get up at the crack of dawn and catch the early tram to the yoga studio, where I'd spend the next 90 mins flowing in a morning practice. In the evenings, I'd meet up with my bestie for an evening class, eventually catching up over a sattvic dinner, and lots of giggles as our inner child come out to play. 

A beautiful summer's day
in Down Under

There is just something unexplainably therapeutic in the freedom to go about the day alone and yet not be enveloped by a sense of loneliness. An essence of magic, mystery and peace is generously sprinkled when spending the New Year being a stranger in a familiar land.

As I trek uphill to head home after a morning's Vinyasa practice, I conclude that this isn't a vacation. It is "Sadhana" (in Sanskrit, "sadhana" means "a spiritual practice exercised toward the achievement of a purpose"). It is my journey into Svadhyaya, an opportunity to self-reflect on my actions, in hope that they will become a mirror to learn to look at myself more deeply. In retrospect, my mind ceased to think and plan, and I found this non-agenda-like state refreshing as I got nurtured mentally, soulfully and spiritually. By simply being non-attached to any particular style or level of yoga practice, even the simplest of practice was profoundly deep.

The sacred practice space where I spent most
of my mornings and evenings

Yoga is such a personal journey... a practice where the initial outward progress merely masks the subtle inward growth that eventually sneaks up on us. With all sincere efforts to guide each practitioner that come onto the mat, I realize that they too have their own intentions of doing so. Even when I give my all to help nurture their yoga practice, perhaps it is me who needs (further) nurturing as it becomes evident that all they ever wanted was to stretch, tone, sweat and (hopefully) lose a few pounds along the way.

Life is too precious to mull over the what-could-have-beens. 2013 is the year where I move from energies that are not aligned. It is time to live my life's mantra to the fullest. It is time to get sexy back! (I just couldn't resist that last one).

Words to live by

Two weeks of silence, space and solitude... to flow with the Universe... to reignite my tapas and to be re-inspired to inspire. I am internally grateful to the many teachers who have taught me that life indeed begins at the end of your comfort zone.

For without you, I would have never gotten from here...

Adho Mukha Vrksasana
(Handstand - 'Urbanscapes', Australia)

... to here.

Adho Mukha Vrksasana
(Handstand - 'Urbanscapes', Australia)

"Progress lies not in enhancing what is, but in advancing toward what will be" - Khalil Gibran.

Namaste, love, light and eternal blessings.

Not Quite a Cat(astrophic) Practice

The Cat Pose (Bidalasana), is one of my favourite warm-up asanas, as the arch-tilt action initiates movement from the core centre, and coordinates movement with breath, while gently warming up the entire spine, freeing the neck and shoulders. It is also an excellent stimulant to the abdominal organs and the spinal fluids. Practitioners with knee pain can place a blanket under their knees when doing this pose. And just like most asanas whose names take after animals, cats have had a great role to play in this asana.

My lil' stick drawings

My cats accompany me in my daily yoga practice. As creatures of habit, they take great joy in running up the stairs ahead of me, as if to race me to my mat. Being the good boys they are, they don't deface my mat by using it to sharpen their claws. They seem to know that my yoga mat is my sacred practice space (although sometimes, sharing a corner is oh-so irresistible). They don't get in the way of my practice but instead, choose to widen their eyes in horror when I fall heavily to the ground in the many failed attempts of a handstand in the middle of the room.

Each morning they would snuggle into their favourite corners, and choose to keep a watchful (sometimes even disdainful) eye on my alignment (as if to say, "Jeez, woman, you call that a backbend???").

"Oi! Hug those legs into the midline!" 

"There must be something underneath here that's making her stay balanced".

Meditation and Pranayama can be a challenge when you know someone's watching (or purring loudly in accompaniment).

Me : "Ommmm"
Ringo : "Purrrrrrrrr"

I can never be as flexible as them in any Parivrtta (revolved) pose.

"Supta Something Something?
Piece of cake".

In spite of all that, Savasana is always sweet after a great morning practice.

"Group Savasana, our fave pose"

May you find life's little highlights in your daily practice too.

OM, Peace and Purrs from me, Ringo and Toby.

xx

In Gratitude

As I pen the last newsletter for the year to our dear yogis and yoginis, I find myself reflecting on this past year, and am overwhelmed by a deep gratitude to all who have walked with me along this path and towards the light of Yoga. I am indeed blessed with abundance and love, and am grateful to have enough to give back in any small way I can.

"Wake at dawn with a winged heart and
give thanks for another day of loving" - Khahlil Gibran.

I am imperfect but thank you for giving me the chance to bring out the best in all who step onto the mat.

In Gratitude, Love & Light always,
Angeline

Life's a Vinyasa

You say Ashtanga, she calls it Flow, and he swears by Vinyasa.

Same poses, but with huge dramatic differences, in what I'd like to call "choreyogaphy".

Vinyasa Yoga is often termed as a "flowing sequence of asanas that connect breath with movement".  I love Vinyasa. I love the very fact that I can tap into classical Hatha yogasanas and "choreyogaph" them to a seamless flowing practice where the mind, breath and body unite in a meditative state while in motion.  In lieu of the music of my breath, I too sometimes love to Vinyasa to tunes from my playlist where I get swept up by the flow of mantras as I settle into a pose, be it for a breath or five, before another takes its place. I love the 'aaah' moment where the practitioners in my class are led from prep poses to a peak pose, before dissolving the practice into restorative mode.

Vinyasa reminds me that life imitates art (the art in this case, being Yoga). Yoga teaches us to practise non-attachment (vairaghya) because nothing in life is ever permanent. Just like a Vinyasa practice, we flow through life, ride the peak poses, take the occasional tumble (like from a Handstand straight into a Savasana splat!), as one life experience dissolves and a new one takes its place. But as each unfolding moment presents itself, that too shall pass. 

Vinyasa - even bunnies do it
(image from mindbodygreen)

Finding the balance between joy and curiosity is often the base ingredient for my Vinyasa "choreyogaphy", sometimes even without the initial, rigid dogma of alignment. My Vinyasa practice is when I take fun seriously. My body and mind become my intimate canvas for opportunities, mistakes and growth. To me, healthy alignment is in the body's natural state, and with a full presence in one's practice, the alignment will eventually come (those who practise Ashtanga Vinyasa will attest to that).  

My body, my canvas

We exist in a constant state of adjustment, in order to get the alignment of our lives right. We adhere by schedules, deadlines, society and parental expectations. But have we ever thought of loosening the reins a little, and revisit the state of childlike wonder, to allow every turn to reveal a constant discovery, and every experiment to unearth new beginnings? Would we let ourselves sink into permanent rituals that (may) rob us of being joyful? 

Much has been said about 'enjoying the journey' but do you Vinyasa on the mat, as well as in life?

Why I Write

It's been a while since I last wrote... a long while, actually (and postings about workshops and events happening at the studios where I teach don't count as writing).

After two back-to-back Teacher Trainings since end June, and a packed August, this long weekend had me finishing up some long-abandoned half-read books, plus some well-deserved me time on my mat with my practice.

A conversation with a monk a few weeks back, in my car, came to mind. "You write", he said. "I do... in an amateurish way", was my sheepish reply. "And why do you write?" he asked, just as we approached our destination. I didn't respond immediately as I was busy maneuvering the car into the parking lot. "Write more", he quietly said, upon hearing my answer.

As I sat by the window, watching the afternoon rain fall from the skies, I pondered on a topic to write on. Nothing came to mind. Instead, I thought about why I write in the first place. I used to write to earn a living. But now...

I write to let go of things and people that do not contribute positively to my life...  

I write to remind myself to practice impermanence... just like the shadow play cast by the setting sun, everything will (eventually) be gone when one day ends and a new one begins tomorrow.

I write to remind myself to

I write to celebrate that true friendship isn't about being inseparable, it's about being separated and nothing changes.

I write about how blessed I am by the beautiful beings who have entered my life, touched my soul and transformed me into a better person.

I write about the storms in my life before the calm. And how I learnt to dance in the rain instead of waiting for the storm to pass.

I write about not skipping straight to the breakthrough. Instead, I am openly honest that I too, am a work-in-progress and that happy endings don't come without hard work.

I write to heal... to be free of my demons... and to have the courage to love again.

Write more, I was told.
Write more I shall.

xx

Learning to Dance In The Rain

It's the merry month of May, and with it, came a mixed bag of sorts.


While my open soul feels rejuvenated and re-energised from being reunited with my Guru whom I hold the highest of respect for, I somehow lack the words to articulate those beautiful, yogic experiences on and off the mat. The inspirational chats we had [and this from a man of few but deeply insightful words], straightened out my perspectives, cast aside my storm clouds and brought my passion for teaching yoga to renewed heights. My Dharma could not be any clearer. 


And then right out of those two precious Sadhana-like weeks, there came a lot of emotional turbulence in the country's political front, and although I refused to participate actively in anything that wouldn't contribute positively to my tapas, I couldn't help but be deeply saddened by what my country has become.


The past couple of days brought about some events that threatened to uproot and spin me in any crazy direction known to mankind, but I fought tooth and nail to remain as unfazed and grounded as a work-in-progress-yogi can.


I cling onto the energy from my precious two week Sadhana, refusing to be swept up by the tempest brewing around me. Instead, I navigate through it, trying to hop, skip and jump through all the puddles because life isn't about waiting for that storm to pass... it's about learning to dance in the rain.

And as it starts to rain heavily in the lil' corner of my world this evening, I step onto my mat... my refuge... 

Me and Shadow Play

But between you and me, I'd really rather be doing this...

I'd rather Live, Love, Laugh and Be Free

May Your Rain Dance Be Joyful.

xx

Once Upon An Elephant's Tale

Most of us are familiar with Lord Ganesha, one of the most popular worshipped divinities in India.  With its elephant head and a rat as its 'vehicle' (yes, try picturing a huge, rotund Ganesha sitting on a tiny rat, circling the Universe!), the deity is often seen at the entrances of Indian homes and businesses.

Lord Ganesha

I love stories, myths and legends, and the story of Ganesha is one of my favourites.  Lord Ganesha is the son of Lord Shiva and the Goddess Parvati (Shakti).  Legend has it, that Lord Shiva went away for battle when Ganesha was born, and Parvati gave little Ganesha, the manly duty of guarding their home.  One day, as Ganesha was guarding the entrance to the river where Parvati was taking her daily bath, he was approached by a strong warrior, demanding access to Parvati. The warrior was none other than Lord Shiva, but Ganesha has never seen his father while growing up (as Lord Shiva was away in battle for many many years), so standing true to his duty to protect his mother's safety and modesty, Ganesha stood his ground and refused Lord Shiva entry.


Lord Shiva, who did not know Ganesha was his own son, flew into a rage, and chopped the lad's head off! Parvati's grief knew no bounds, and Lord Shiva swore to bring the boy back to life. Unfortunately, when he went back to retrieve the boy's head, it was nowhere to be found. A quick fix was sought, and it was decided that the first available head would be used instead.... an elephant's!


And because of his role as protector and guardian at entrances, Parvati issued a royal decree that Lord Ganesha (also known as Ganapati) will be known as the Remover of all Obstacles, and will be worshipped first before any other divinity.


I'm thoroughly enjoying my week off from teaching, as Muslims in Malaysia celebrate the Aidil Fitri festivities after a month-long of fasting during the holy month of Ramadhan. 
As I stepped onto the mat this morning, accompanied by a fresh, cool breeze and the sound of persistent raindrops, I gazed onto the image of Lord Ganesha on my little yoga altar, and am reminded of a bigger energy source.... the Universe. As it has been scorching hot with hardly any rain for the past few weeks, I visualise that (perhaps) the Remover of Obstacles has given the heat wave a solid elephant's kick, rode around the Universe on the back of his trusty lil' ratmobile and brought some rain clouds back with him.


As I prepare for my evening practice, I am grateful for having the time off to concentrate on my practice, see it from a renewed perspective... and to notice the smaller (yet still significant) stuff on and off the mat.


Take a breath, and close your eyes the next time you step onto your yoga mat. Visualise Ganesha removing the obstacles in your life with his mighty trunk, and bringing your yoga practice to a daily threshold of new beginnings.
Now, open your eyes, exhale... and begin your practice.


Om Shanti, Love and Light.


(wishing my teachers and friends in India, a Happy Ganesha Chaturthi which falls on 1 Sept 2011)

Will the Real Yoga Please Stand Up?

I was teaching a Beginners class Bakasana this morning, and when I finished the demonstration, a student said, "you make it look so easy".

Bakasana (Crow Pose)

After class, as we were sipping our cups of organic tea, the same student approached me and asked, "what is your most challenging asana?"


Hmmm... where do I begin? A string of advanced asanas, starting with Handstand and Kapotasana, was immediately at the very tip of my tongue. But I paused. There are so many asanas that I find challenging and that I'm still working on. But I think of Yoga as a process... a continuous work-in-progress, where the inability of getting into the full pose, is in fact, the "Yoga" itself.


I mean, what happens when we're "there"? Do we then get complacent in our practice, because the learning has stopped?


Not being able to do the full pose means practice, practice and more practice. It helps to keep me focused and grounded, and to stay true to vairagya (non-attachment) to any specific or desired outcome.



When I step onto the mat, either for some self-practice, or in front of a class, I leave all the craziness and demands of life momentarily behind, and immerse myself into a cocooned state of 'yogasm'. Nothing beats a foreplay consisting of Sun Salutations, leading up to a body-heating vinyasa practice, and climaxing to a well-deserved Savasana. 

As I drive home from class, weaving in and out of the crazy Friday lunch hour traffic, I feel that the most challenging aspect of my yoga practice is to consistently practise my Yamas and Niyamas. Trust me, I'm no angel (though I'm named one!) and I am just as flawed as the next Billy Bob! Living in the city is stressful, and I have other responsibilities as a wife, daughter, business partner and mum to 2 adorable but clingy cats. Everyone and everything is always trying to push my buttons. To stay mindful, composed and non-reactive at all times, is a huge challenge.


Perhaps the "real Yoga" starts when we step off the mat and deal with life's tsunamis in the real world, yeah?


(I apologise if the play of the word "yoga" in this article is offensive to any reader. It was borne purely out of creative copywriting and has no intention to insult the age-old practice).

Expect the Unexpected

I can't even begin to marvel how sneaky India can be.  The subcontinent has a habit of kicking me out of my comfort zone.  India tested me everyday... sometimes in her wicked spasms of humour, several times a day even.  She wreaked uncertainties on my yoga practice... my patience, endurance, focus, shanti... heck she even deflated my ego.  


The India I've come to know, is a great place to learn the yogic lesson of giving your best effort, but not getting hung up on the results.  In my time here in Mysore, I've come to learn that things here don't often go according to plan, but if I'm cool with expecting the unexpected, what needs to happen usually does.  And it all comes together at some point in time when the soul is ready to receive.


Here are some of my personal favourites : 


1.  We had hired an auto rickshaw driver to take us to the yoga shala everyday at 5am.  He diligently turned up at our gate for the first 6 days, and one cold rainy morning, he was nowhere in sight.  He did turn up the next day however, and when we asked him about the no show, he said, it was rainy, too cold to come and decided to sleep in (he even added a head wiggle for good measure).  On the subsequent morning (and the mornings thenafter), he failed to show up again.
Conclusion : Auto rickshaw drivers here are quick to try and whip an extra INR10 from tourists by faking a faulty meter, but do not seem to want to commit to a regular piece of business.


2.  A 10 minute walk to anywhere in India, if told by an Indian person, is actually 30 minutes.
Conclusion : When in India, adjust to Indian time.


3.  It can be raining cats and dogs during the monsoon season, but a burst pipe causing water shortage in the neighbourhood can take up to 5 days to fix, thus causing drought indoors.
Conclusion : Irony is best taken with a head wiggle.


4.  India is the land of organized chaos.  Traffic rules are made (and made up!).  Vehicles do not seem to stop when approaching a roundabout (known as a 'circle' in India), but instead everyone honks and charges to the centre of the roundabout, AND THEN try to figure who has the right of way.  Surprisingly, at zero accident rate.
Conclusion : India has very creative drivers.

Side saddle and helmet-free

5.  Traffic rules when it comes to road crossing : Cows stopping mid-street to poop, horses and occasionally people who are lost in thought and take their own sweet time to cross the road have the right of way. 
Conclusion : See no. 6


6.  Holy Cow : here's the unwritten law on Indian roads. Bicycles and rickshaws make way for auto rickshaws (or 3-Wheelers). 3-Wheelers stop for cars. Cars make way for buses. And EVERYONE stops for the Holy Cow.  Cows are big and venerated in India. When a cow crosses a road or decides to siesta in the middle of one, they are king!

7.  You can never rush the Indians.  They never seem to be in a hurry.  On the other hand, you can hardly find an impatient Indian.  
Conclusion : C'est la vie (with a head wiggle).


8.  Oh, and about practising with the Master.  Just when you think you're getting into a pretty strong practice, the Master steps in and shatters any egoistic thoughts.  Whether it is purely a kind gesture, or a form of testing your focus or dristhi, the Master uses one of those battery operated mosquito swatters, (you know, the ones that creates a spark and a loud crackle when mossies are caught), and happily waves the swatter in front of you when you're frantically balancing in Virabhadrasana III.
Conclusion : You may wobble and you may topple but at least you'll be dengue-free.

Snap, Crackle and Pop

I love India. I mean, what's there not to love?  She cracks me up daily... opens my mind up to new possibilities... and teaches me to be less uptight because there is no such thing as perfectionism, and nothing is ever permanent.


And over the next few weeks, I made peace with India and opened my soul to a heart opening, spontaneous yoga practice.  I flowed with the tide of change, accepted that transformation begins with imperfection, and learnt to shift my perspective on life, which surprisingly led to great contentment.

Settling In

After settling into my new rented home at Chamarajapuram, I ambled over to the Mysore Academy of Yoga in Lakshmipuram on Day Three, to meet my yoga master, Archarya Ramesh Kumar, and to get the course timetable.


Here's a look at the curriculum :
(Daily, including Moon Days and Saturday, with Sunday as Rest Day)


Asana Practice             5.30am - 7.30am
Pranayama, Mudra
and Kriya I                  8.00am - 9.00am
Yogic Anatomy and
Yoga Therapeutics I      9.00am - 10.30am
Break                         10.30am - 1.00pm
Pranayama, Mudra
and Kriya II                 1.00pm - 2.00pm
Yogic Anatomy and
Yoga Therapeutics II     2.00pm - 4.00pm
Backbend Practice         4.00pm - 5.00pm


Hmmmm..... looks like I've got to get up by 4am (since there are 2 of us sharing the house), which isn't too hard, since I'll be sleeping on this faux luxurious bed...

... wait for 30 minutes so that this high-tech piece of equipment can grant me a hot bath in the freezing cold monsoon morning... 

Water heater (read : boiler) and bath tub (read : orange bucket)

.... in order for me hop onto a speeding auto rickshaw and get to the shala by 5.15am.

The humble Mysore Academy of Yoga

Early nights and sweet dreams, everyone.

Getting Acquainted with the Unfamiliar

Another year, another trip back to Mysore.  This time, to an unfamiliar part of town.... Lakshmipuram.... where the crowd is less sophisticated and a little more rough around the edges, though still steep in warm Indian hospitality.


Settling down this time was certainly not as smooth sailing and well-oiled as my last trip in 2009, in the more posh suburb of Gokulam.  The "Rent Mafia", we were told, had taken dominance over the house rentals within Lakshmipuram and the nearby areas.  Apparently, the "Don" at a certain popular yoga shala in this district monopolises all rental enquiries, and by defacto standard, all landlords appoint them as Rent Agents, and the agent commission is tiered, depending on where you're from (read : commission for locals and Asians is slightly lower than Americans and Europeans).  It is a bit unsettling to see how some of the locals have become unattractively greedy (from the self declared housing agents, to rickshaw wallahs)... this, I suppose, comes from the opportunity of leveraging on foreign yoga students who flood to Mysore yearly.


However, for those who come to India with a pure heart, there is always a cloud with a silver lining. You'll just need to look for it.  Mine came in many blessed ways.  Like in the guise of a kind and honest landlady who stood up for me when confronted by an overzealous rent agent.... a humble Yoga Master and his family who ensures that I eat breakfast and lunch at his house daily.... a rickshaw wallah who waives a waiting fee while I was practising in the shala... a vegetable seller who waits patiently whilst I picked up my fruit and veg (eventhough he was in a hurry to go for his Friday prayers).... and a little stray dog who led me to the shala when I lost my way in Day One in Lakshmipuram.


I realise that India, like your yoga practice, tests you every day.  She demands your total surrender... tosses you out of your comfort zone, plays havoc on your patience, perseverance, focus and intention.  As it's the monsoon season, she rains on your parade but chooses to cut off water supply to the housing area for 5 days .... 

The kitchen roof was leaking rainwater and caterpillars!

... and presents you with the saggiest mattress known to mankind, and gifts you with constant backache when you wake up each morning.

My little dungeon for 7 weeks

Yet, India, like yoga, teaches you to expect the unexpected, and embrace total acceptance for The Now.

In time, I learnt to recognise each blessing that came my way, and these definitely outweighed each obstacle, hiccup and unfavourable moment.


And for the next 7 weeks on, I, The Seeker, found humility, light, peace and renewed passion in my yoga teaching and practice.


Om Namah Shivaya.

Why not India?

There's another 2 weeks of teaching to go before I leave for 6-weeks of yoga bliss in India.  The studios where I teach have already let the word out, and some students have approached me on 'why India?'

Why not India?

I can understand, for someone who's never been there, just the idea of going to India, not to mention live there for weeks, can be extremely daunting.  It seems to be the land where the usual rules don't apply.

Sitting side saddle sans helmet

Look Ma! No Hands!

Freshly laundered clothes come wrapped in yesterday's newspapers

I mean, nobody can truly be prepared for India.  It is a beautiful destination..... incredible, no doubt, but compelling at the same time.  A fascinating land of mixed smells (yes, you get the whole nine yeards... pleasant AND non!)..... incessant honking at every road junction.... chai wallahs by the thousands.... rickshaw wallahs who slyly claim their metres are 'not working'.... kids running after you and asking if you've "got pen?".... cows and their droppings literally everywhere.... turmeric coloured food.... beautiful temples.... the gorgeous smell of jasmine in the air especially when there is a pooja.... ladies young and old, doing anything and everything in the most colourful of sarees, even sitting side-saddle on motorcycles.... old, really skinny men in white loin cloths, chanting or meditating along the Ganga, while further down, a body can be seen burning.... and everybody wants to know my name and if I'm from Japan!

And then, there's the yoga.... anything from big schools with fancy websites, medium sized shalas with ashrams, smaller non-descript shalas with just regular cement flooring, to free yoga practice at the temples at sunrise.

Most people who have gone to India all say the same thing... "you either love India, or hate it".

The sub-continent is huge and I've barely scraped the surface.  I've landed in Bangalore, found my way to Mysore and stayed there the longest for all things yoga, gone down to Kerala at the southern tip of the sub-continent, made my way up to Delhi, left footprints all over the kingdom of Rajasthan, wept over the sheer magnificence of the Taj Mahal, and left India with beautiful memories, newfound friends, renewed spirit and the dreaded 'Delhi Belly' stomach bug.

This will be my third consecutive year to India, and my second 'pure yoga' sojourn. 

I'm looking forward to, once again, detaching myself from the regular demands of life, and totally immersing myself into days of asana practice, pranayama and meditation. 

I yearn to be part of a daily ritual where yogasana is used to get into the depths of the mind and to tap into that inner sense of being, rather than being attached to trying to improve on postures. 

I want to open my heart and mind to the possibility of being more dharmic, in my outlook and response to what life has in store for me. 

In order to look after others' needs, I also need to look after mine.

To be able to teach well, I must continue to learn.

Do continue to practice and share the light.... because when I return home, I will share my light which will be burning oh-so brightly within me.

Om Namah Shivaya.

Journey of the Breath

As I prepare the necessary documentation for my yoga sojourn back to India, I realise it's already been 13 months since I had first gotten onto the teacher's mat.

The past year has been one that's been filled with in-depth exploration of my own personal practice... finding my style, flavour and 'voice' as a teacher... learning and cultivating the willingness to be open and to absorb as a student and from my students... turning inward to observe my current state of breath and mind as I get onto my yoga mat... as well as facing the unknown as I slowly step away from my comfort zone and face new challenges in a less goal-oriented way.

And throughout the year, I've discovered that :

• It truly is 1% Theory and 99% Practice - there is no better way to truly understand yoga than to have a regular self practice.
• Going for yoga classes is fun... there's often great group energy and you learn from different yoga styles, but when you cultivate your self practice, THAT'S when the real insights occur, as you learn to move at your own pace, tuning to your limitations, emotions and allowing your personal practice to develop a sense of curiosity rather than self-judgement.
• The best way to teach is to practise what you're teaching.
• While it's a good habit to prepare what to teach in a class, it's an even better habit to tune into the practitioners' needs and allow each moment to be fluid so that the practice becomes a beautiful and meaningful one FOR the practitioners.
• Although I'm a morning person, and the early dawn is the most beautiful time to practice yoga, I don't beat myself up over it, if some days I choose to sleep in, pick up the Yoga Journal, get inspired, meet friends for lunch, and then hop onto my mat later on in the day.
• Detachment makes life simpler, but not with less compassion.
• Yoga is indeed a lifestyle..beyond the mat, beyond 'wow' postures... yoga is anytime, anywhere. 
• Yoga is a journey.... one that is led by a constant companion...the breath.
• Balance in our bodies and in our lives, are connected to the relationship between effort and surrender.

And as I roll out my mat for a gentler evening practice (while avoiding inversions today), I remember a quote from Zen Master, Shunryu Suzuki's "Not Always So"....

"Even though you say your practice is not good enough, there is no other practice for you right now. Good or Bad, it IS your practice". 

Love to all.
xx

What's Up?

Wow, it's already mid-May.... and I realize this is the only entry of the month so far.  Time flies when you're busy....

Busy with "looking-at-the-world-the-other-way-up" stunts.

Busy splitting myself into new directions.

Busy teaching, sharing and learning.

Busy planning and counting down to....

• A much anticipated Chakra Vinyasa workshop by Delamay Devi (11 Days to go)
• A work trip to the Land my ancestors are from but of which I do not speak the Language (19 Days to go)
• A weekend of Iyengar yoga with Karin O'Bannon (24 Days to go)
• A much-deserved by-the-beach weekend getaway (38 Days to go)
• An eagerly awaited 6-weeks of intensive training to deepen my practice, re-center and replenish my yoga mojo (82 Days to go)

In the meantime, it's practice, practice, practice... and keeping life simple, sweet and filled with joy.

Love, light and peace always.
xx