i love yoga

just came back from baron's class in brookline. something happened to me. i want to share it.

before class, i was lying on the couch in my analyst's office (yes, i am in psychoanalysis -- 4 days a week on the couch, okay?) talking about how so much of the theme of this past week has been about my voice. feedback from teacher training has centered a lot around my voice. i also noticed that in practice yesterday, i was shying away from any throat-opening postures that i might normally go for, specifically camel, which opens the heart and throat for me.

so back to the point. i went to baron's class today. he had us in eagle, and then we unwrapped our legs and stepped back into crescent lunge, keeping eagle arms. as i was doing this, he was nearby and did something magical to me, but man, i went back, my heart went up, my chest opened, and my head just dropped back, leaving my throat wide open. and the sound that came out of me? well, all i can say is it was a cross between a dying cow and an orgasm. i don't know how else to describe it.

so then, i came out of the posture and BAM started coughing. like a coughing fit. i dropped down to my knees and just coughed and coughed, and (if you're squeamish, you might want to close your eyes for this next part) i coughed up something REALLY nasty. it was gross. then i started crying and shaking, and i just stayed down for a little while.

the rest of class was incredible. i felt ALIVE and open and ready for anything and i wanted to sing! when i got into my car after class, i turned on martin sexton (the king of all inspirational music for me) and just belted it out all the way home.

ahhhhhhh. I LOVE YOGA!

here comes the sun (doo doo doo doo).

yesterday i was commenting to a lovely studio manager i know about how for the past few years, i feel like i've been dropping little seeds along the path of the my life. every time i drop a seed, i look down at it and say, "okay, seed, start growing!" but nothing happens -- at least nothing i can detect right then. but now, now, my friends, when i turn around and look at where i've been, all i see is this luscious, colorful, wild garden. those seeds that felt so insignificant have blossomed and bloomed, and things are really beginning to take shape. it feels... good.

it feels good! it feels authentic. maybe for the first time in my life, i feel that i'm achieving something by simply being me. no pushing, no conniving, no manipulating or forcing. in fact, the only way i've been able to arrive where i am right now is by stripping away those nasty ways of being -- those grasping, negative, desperate ways. and i'm only just beginning.

how many times have i heard claire say "set your intention, and the universe will conspire to bring you what you need"? probably over a hundred times. and now i know. she's absolutely right.

i'd like to share what i like to call a savasanallucination (savasana hallucination) i had last night in gregor's class. here it is. it's so perfectly obvious but i just love it.

i'm on this road, walking along, and it's kind of dark. on my right, there are all these men in suits. hundreds and hundreds of them, just standing there, expressionless, in their suits. so i'm walking, and i'm seeing them, and i'm thinking, wow, this is a lot of men in suits. and they all look exactly the same. but i'm okay with it. and i just keep walking. the road starts to journey uphill a bit and i can see some light starting to appear on the road ahead, so i keep walking uphill (not too steep, though), and suddenly, i see it. the sun. and it is breathtaking. the light is so pure, almost white, and i can look right at it without burning my eyes. it was the most beautiful thing i've ever seen. when i became aware of reality again -- that i was laying on my mat, dripping wet, with a towel over my eyes -- i realized that there were tears streaming down my face.

later on, i thought about how the sun is always there. even when it's dark, the sun is just around the corner and you simply have to wait for the earth to rotate so that you can see it again. and there's really nothing you can do to speed up the earth's rotation, so you might as well just breathe and have faith that soon enough, you'll start to see the sun's light kissing the road just ahead of you.

enter planopia

i don't know about you, but when i get an idea of something i want to do in my head, i'm like that coyote chasing the damn roadrunner again (what is it with me and those two?). i get fixated and a little obsessed.

in these moments of planstravaganza, AP likes to call me planopia.

it's fun to be excited about planning but there's always that tipping point, that place where the excitement turns to panic. i think i've ruminated on this particular process on this blog in the past. the excitement builds and builds, and then all the plans are in place, and then i feel like a chicken with her head cut off, still running around but basically about to drop at any moment. and then there's the gradual let-down of the planning being complete! and, i'm not afraid to admit, i have gone back to itineraries and just looked at them. yup, just looked at the itinerary. it's slightly ocd, i know.

so that's where i am right now. i booked a flight to LA to go to my beautiful cousin's wedding in november, and while i'm out there i'll be visiting another little chiquita banana whom i love and adore. and i'm super excited, but it's like... now what?

sometimes i think i'm really nuts.

little birdies birdies birdies

ok, quick post.

i'm at the studio and a bird just flew in and i can't get him to leave! i'm so afraid that he won't be able to find his way out and he'll be stuck in here.

also, on saturday when i was walking home from teaching a class in boston, a baby bird dropped out of the sky (really, he dropped), hit a car, and landed DIRECTLY in front of me, then hopped underneath a car. i spent the next half hour trying (with AP's help -- yes, i said AP, mr. lebsky) to shoo him out from under the car to save him, but to no avail. we had to leave him there and my heart was broken.

okay, so now there's a bird in the studio! and not only is there a bird in the studio, this little birdie landed his little grey self RIGHT ON TOP OF THE COMPUTER SCREEN and then flitted and chirped away and now i can't find him.

so what's with the birds and me? and why do they keep getting in precarious situations around me in which i have no power to save them?

what would freud say?

rain = safety

surprise, surprise... it's raining again! but this time there's thunder and lightning, which i think make the whole situation much more tolerable.

i have always always loved thunderstorms. i like being outside when they're happening -- i think something physiological happens to me. secretly, i envision myself as storm from x-men. doesn't she look exactly like me?


i mean, just LOOK at her. she's awesome! seriously, that is how i feel when there's a thunderstorm.

but there's a psychological reason why i love storms. as a kid, i was terrified of robbers and fires. every night before i went to bed, i had to repeat to myself my protocol in the case of robbers and/or a fire.

robbers:
i would take my telephone (complete with extra long phone cord specifically for this emergency situation) into my closet and call 9-1-1, then jump out my window (i was on the first floor) and run around the back to my brother's window and rescue him, and then we would throw rocks at my parents' windows on the second floor and wake them up, and they would jump down from their deck (never was quite able to figure out how we'd prevent broken bones, but i thought broken bones were better than death) and we'd all flee.

fire:
i would take three things:
1. murphy (my teddy bear, featured in photo below with me last year on a flight to europe)

2. my bathrobe
3. my slippers

and then i'd follow the same protocol for robbers in regards to rescuing my parents and brother.

so this was my nightly thought-ritual, and i felt pretty darn prepared for the worst-case scenario, which i was convinced would someday come to pass.

except that when it was raining, all my worries went away. first of all, what robbers in their right minds would want to rob houses in the rain? (yes, this was my rationale.) they'd get all wet, and any stuff they were trying to steal would get wet too. and if there was a fire? built-in protection from the rain! so in my kid mind, rain = safety.

these days, my nighttime fears are a little more complex -- i wake up in panics about what the hell i'm doing with my life and rarely freak out about robbers or fires anymore. maybe that's because last year AP and i were actually broken into (we weren't home), and so in some ways, the inevitable has come to pass so my anticipatory fear/anxiety is no longer necessary. as far as fires go, well, i did light my oven on fire trying to bake a passover cake a few years ago, and that was scary. but we survived.

but it's still the case that when it's night time, and it's raining, falling (and staying) asleep happens much easier for me. and, yes, i still sleep with my bear. :)