Mindfully Clueless

Like many yogis, I would like to be mindful. I would love to be awake and aware of WTF I'm doing. I'm not so good at that.

I regularly send packages to Malibu, Berkeley, and Portland. Recently, I sent a birthday gift to Portland and cursed the post office when the tracking showed the package bouncing from post office to post office before ending up back on my doorstep where I discovered I wrote the Berkeley address on the Portland label. When I checked the label before dropping the box into the bin, the address looked okay to me, but context is everything.

Last week, as is my habit, I stopped at the Starbucks on Mass Ave on my way to work.  It was about 8:30 a.m., and metered parking is required from 7:00 a.m.-9:00 p.m. Religiously, I put money in the parking machine for my space because I know how religiously the "Parking Ambassadors" sweep the street.  I can usually duck in and out quickly, but  unlike many patrons, I don't chance it.  25¢ is cheaper than $20 bucks, $40 if you procrastinate for more than 7 days.

The parking spots were filled with snow and ice. The car next to my spot had obviously been parked overnight. It was totally covered in snow.  I hoped the ambassadors wouldn't give tickets on a day like that,  but I wouldn't risk it.

I  was the only one in line at Starbucks. I ran out to see a man approach the car next to me and take out a snow scraper to begin clearing his car off. His windshield was still blanketed in white. My windshield had a parking ticket attached!

I knew I wasn't inside long enough for my spot to have expired. Indignantly, I punched the number to my parking spot, The Yogarazzi was going snap a pic of the remaining minutes except there were no minutes. Watching the man industriously sweep the snow from his car, I decided to punch his number. He had 4 minutes left from the time I had dropped in my quarter.

Snap! I put the money on the wrong parking spot. Because I wasn't sufficiently mindful, I suffered the fate I tried so hard to avoid--the $20 parking ticket.  While I chastised myself, the man finished clearing off his car and drove away. He was unaware he could have been $20 poorer or $40.00 if he was a procrastinator .

What a clueless Yogarazzi. Not only had I gotten myself a ticket by paying for the wrong spot, I hadn't even  thought to drop some coin on the other spot to save the overnighter a ticket. I did a "pay it forward" kind of act without knowing, let alone intending, to do so. I can't even get props for saving his ass. Mindfully, I decided to pay the ticket right away. $20 is a good act/lesson. $40 is a trip to remedial parking  mindfulness school.

#InstaYoga Like Nobody's Watching

Word on the street is that yoga isn't meant to be a spectator sport. One of my teachers likens the mat to a front porch and gently reminds the class to "stay on your porch." Yoga is an individual practice best accomplished without comparing ourselves to those around us.

What about Instagram yoga? Staying on the porch or strutting past the neighbor's porch? Full Disclosure: I post yoga pix. [See The (Papa)razzi Part]. I don't post Instagram pix in general and not "Instagram Yoga"" pix in particular--i.e. the OMG, circus-y, stylized, heavily hashtagged #thinhotchickinbikiniamazinginversionarmbalanceposeeverydamndayinexoticlocale30dayschallenge photos.

These photos are not actually selfies, unless the posers are so flexible they can snap the pose at its peak and remain intact. Mostly, they are amazing portraits of beautiful people looking young, thin, sexy, playful, hip, bendy, talented, coordinated, skilled, strong, and fit. People love these pix, seeing awe and finding inspiration, or hate them, seeing narcissism and finding inadequacy.

Is the Instayogi staying on the mat just capturing the practice and possibly the sense of discipline, accomplishment, and joy by putting it out there? Is she throwing shade on your mat ? Do you judge the pose, the person, and/or yourself?

When you look at a photograph, you can't always know the mind of its subject or the intent of its taker, but you can always take away something. Sometimes, you are getting the vibe and sometimes you are projecting. While I am capable of thinking "that bitch is totally dissing my body and my inversions" when I see a yogi with killer abs handstanding on The Eiffel Tower, I can also think "wow!"

Whether it's implied or inferred, when I see a circus pose hashtagged all to hell with #yogaeverydamnday, #strikeapose #30daychallenge #21daysofyoga  #poseaday #yogababe #yogabutt, #blahblahblah, I feel sad. This is coming from someone unafraid to bust a tag, and yet I sense lonely wistful, at times, desperate vibes.

Circling back to the metaphor, the Instayogi isn't tryna be a badass and step on your mat, she's trying to be affirmed. I feel it's not always a play for followers and free swag.  It's a variation of "if a tree falls in the forest...." It's often a fear that if you do a 30 day pose challenge on your porch, did you really do it if none of the neighbors saw. It's not a ploy for attention, it's a prayer to be seen. The more advanced the pose, the more true the affirmation?

Try the porch, Instayogi. Try a pose. Try a challenge. Try a practice. On your mat. See how it goes. Dance #InstaYoga like nobody's watching.

The (Papa)razzi Part

It's pretty ironic that The Yogarazzi blog has more words than pix. It's a real incentive for me to  work towards taking the training wheels off and moving to a more photo friendly place. I've found this joint very clunky overall and especially with images. I'm not actually a photographer; I only play one in yoga world, so there's that. I seriously started snapping iPhone yoga pix almost 5 years ago. Obviously, I'm a slow starter and a slow learner if I'm only now getting around this.

I broke my arm on the way to yoga. Don't freak out, yoga did not wreck my body, my clumsiness, a too heavy bag, and way high heeled boots wrecked my body. Anyway, I still went to yoga, but instead of practicing, I took a few pix. My iPhone 3 had a terrible camera. It was blurry and had no zoom.  I couldn't adjust for light, edit, or crop. Now my iPhone 5 allows me to do these things. I may not be good, but I'm so much better.

I  learned  it's usually best to practice on my mat and allow others to do the same in regular classes. Snapping yoga pix is better around yoga; before and after, when yogis are playing around, and at yoga events like yoga + something, fundraisers, and free classes where the vibe is light and fun and it's not so intrusive.  At serious workshops, it's a way to edify instruction.

Until I learn code and move up, I  have recent yoga pix on my Facebook  The Yogarazzi. I have 5ish years of yoga pix on my Facebook page, but they aren't that easily accessible. When I started, I herded the pix into albums so they could be viewed outside of grand kids, pets, vacations, Butler, and food porn. Somewhere along the way between Facebook  upgrades, I was unable to album. In typical procrastinating fashion, I have never gone back. My mobile upload album has 5000+ photos.

I hope to curate these photos and add them to the page so you can view a visual history of the Indy (as in Indianapolis) yoga scene. Over the years, I think my hair has mostly stayed the same color, but my weight has not.  Fortunately, The Yogarazzi is mostly not in the photos. For the ones where I might be, there's always photoshop once I learn it. For now, it's the mostly wordy Yogarazzi.

2010 photo

2015 photo

Sliding Doors

   Gwyneth Paltrow starred in Sliding Doors, a movie about chance and fate. Her character lived two parallel lives; one  evolved from a missed train; one evolved because she did not miss that train. My first yoga experience was positive, as was my first studio experience. Yet, I've often won wondered what if  my experience had been different? Would I still be here?

The kids were living in San Francisco drinking smoothies and doing yoga. I was envious. I wanted to experience some of that West Coast chill in the Midwest. I was very nervous until the General and I ventured to a beginner's class in a church basement taught by a Himalayan Institute trained instructor. She studied under Swami Rama and was knowledgeable, precise, and kind. She taught classical sequencing. It was more pose to pose than vinyasa flow. She incorporated anatomy, philosophy, breath work, and meditation into solid asana work. 

I was fortunate to have this foundation. I didn't know what a warrior or a bandha was. I felt safe and secure learning in that space. If I had started out at a studio, I might have been too intimidated to ever return. After a couple of years, I tried a studio class.

This was my first experience with vinyasa although the class just happened to be that and the word meant nothing to me. I went to a convenient place at a convenient time. The instructor was trained primarily in ashtanga  The class was faster and more athletic than I'd experienced. It also has music, a novelty to me.

The instructor called out a warm up of 5 A  and 5 B sun sals. I knew what  sun salutations were, but I didn't seem to know my ABCs. Nervously, I glanced around, I saw familiar poses. "Ahh, that's an A series". While the rest of the class was challenging, he called  out his flow and added instruction.I wasn't so lost.

I told him about my moment of near panic. He was so gracious. He knew the other students and what they knew. He said it was a lesson for him to be more aware and to watch out for all students and to not assume what they know. This class was my favorite for many years.

Over the years, I've been to many classes where I might have freaked if it had been my first class. They classes weren't  advertised as intermediate/advanced either.The beginner's mind isn't just for students. It's important for the instructor to see the class through the students' eyes for the yoga train to roll.

Certainly, it's possible for a novice to wander into a Bikram class and decide to swear off yoga which would not have happened had the student experienced Kundalini  and vice versa. Sliding doors! What I hope is for the first yoga experience not to be the last. I don't want people to lead the crappy version of Gwyneth's character's life. 

People go to that first class with a particular teacher at a specific time and location for many reasons. How does that experience ensure that the student gets on the train?  Is it random? Is it fate? Many yogis feel the universe always chooses what's best. Maybe how the experience is viewed determines what's best? How about increasing the odds that the experience will be positive? Whether or not this class is the right exit, inspire the student to stay on the train and finds the right destination. 

BTW: It took a minute for me to take a yoga class in San Francisco. I went to my first class at Yoga Tree and ended up in a class full of dancers. That was quite the exit.