We had small class the other night and the instructor had us choose our own postures throughout the class. The one hitch, she'd say -- standing hip opener -- choose anyone...standing twist...inversion...shoulder opener...
We had to come up with what posture within that category we wanted to do. It was amazing how it froze most of the class. I do a lot of yoga on my own, so I was comfortable moving through a variety of options. I might not know the names of all the them, or every benefit each might have, but I know enough hip openers, twists, etc -- to select a number of options.
It made me realize how far I've come.
I played someone in squash the other day and they were having some issues with their back. They asked me for a few yoga suggesstions. I started him with something very simple, child's pose.
He was so tight, he couldn't get into the posture. His legs and torso just wouldn't settle down. I don't think I was ever quite that tight, but my body has changed a lot since I began practicing. Seeing him struggle made me realize how far I've come. And yet, I've got a long way to go with some of the very basics. Still it's nice to see the progress.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Monday, December 04, 2006
New teachers...
Although I take yoga at a gym, this club has assembled and excellent collection of teachers. How do I know?
When I've attended classes at Omega, Kripala, or Easalen, I've never felt out of sorts. I felt prepared, as if I've had a solid grounding in a variety of different types. That's a tribute to my teachers here.
Having said that, I love experiecing new classes from new teachers. Yesterday we had a substitute at the club. It was interesting how different this instructor was.
Yoga is infinite. There are many ways to go at it. Breaking habits and experiencing the unfamiliar is all part of the process.
When I've attended classes at Omega, Kripala, or Easalen, I've never felt out of sorts. I felt prepared, as if I've had a solid grounding in a variety of different types. That's a tribute to my teachers here.
Having said that, I love experiecing new classes from new teachers. Yesterday we had a substitute at the club. It was interesting how different this instructor was.
Yoga is infinite. There are many ways to go at it. Breaking habits and experiencing the unfamiliar is all part of the process.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
The blurred line between fact and fiction
Some might not realize that I co-author this blog with Chuck Morgan, the protagonist of my novel – My Year as a Clown. I asked Chuck to do this with me as way to get to know his world better and to understand how he thinks. It also gives me the freedom to push the limits of a variety of subjects because Chuck lives in a much more dynamic world than I do.
“That’s not true,” he said to me.
Chuck is upset that folks might mistake my writing for his, that some would confuse what happens to me with his world.
“At the Fairview Club in Putnam’s Landing,” he had said, “we never have conflicts. We all get along. We know better than to discuss politics and religion.”
That maybe true, I had said to him, but it’s no secret that there have been several clashes on the squash court at Fairview. You can hear shouting on the court a lot; once the club manager had to break up a fight. Certain players carry grudges. Some refuse to play others. They might smile sweetly, but there’s lots of talk behind the back.
“We have the good sense not to confront members with our issues,” Chuck said. “If I’ve got a problem with someone, I’m certainly not going to say anything to him.”
“But you’ll talk to others at the club.”
“I might,” he admitted. “But they have the good sense to keep their mouth shut.”
“That’s nonsense,” I replied. “Everyone there knows who dislikes whom.”
“Just do me a favor,” Chuck said.
“What?”
“Let me do this blog. You keep out of it.”
“I can’t do that,” I told him. “We have to do it together. This blog is part you, part me. Some of it might be true, some might not. That’s the beauty of fiction. We aren’t shackled by the facts. That’s why I didn’t write Clown as a memoir.”
“That’s your stupidity,” he said. “Everyone knows you could have sold that book last year if you had called it a memoir.”
“But then I would have had to stick to the facts. It wouldn’t have given me the flexibility to explode situations to make a point. The book wouldn’t be nearly as good. This blog wouldn’t be as interesting either.”
“Good, schmood,” he said. “It’s about making money. If you’d had any guts, you could have made it all up and still called it a memoir”
Thanks, Chuck, I’ll give that some thought the next time I’m on the mat…
“That’s not true,” he said to me.
Chuck is upset that folks might mistake my writing for his, that some would confuse what happens to me with his world.
“At the Fairview Club in Putnam’s Landing,” he had said, “we never have conflicts. We all get along. We know better than to discuss politics and religion.”
That maybe true, I had said to him, but it’s no secret that there have been several clashes on the squash court at Fairview. You can hear shouting on the court a lot; once the club manager had to break up a fight. Certain players carry grudges. Some refuse to play others. They might smile sweetly, but there’s lots of talk behind the back.
“We have the good sense not to confront members with our issues,” Chuck said. “If I’ve got a problem with someone, I’m certainly not going to say anything to him.”
“But you’ll talk to others at the club.”
“I might,” he admitted. “But they have the good sense to keep their mouth shut.”
“That’s nonsense,” I replied. “Everyone there knows who dislikes whom.”
“Just do me a favor,” Chuck said.
“What?”
“Let me do this blog. You keep out of it.”
“I can’t do that,” I told him. “We have to do it together. This blog is part you, part me. Some of it might be true, some might not. That’s the beauty of fiction. We aren’t shackled by the facts. That’s why I didn’t write Clown as a memoir.”
“That’s your stupidity,” he said. “Everyone knows you could have sold that book last year if you had called it a memoir.”
“But then I would have had to stick to the facts. It wouldn’t have given me the flexibility to explode situations to make a point. The book wouldn’t be nearly as good. This blog wouldn’t be as interesting either.”
“Good, schmood,” he said. “It’s about making money. If you’d had any guts, you could have made it all up and still called it a memoir”
Thanks, Chuck, I’ll give that some thought the next time I’m on the mat…
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