I am excavating all of the saved drafts I have lingering. I have been writing, but not posting and not finishing a lot of what I write. So here’s one from August that I started after my first Mysore class at Yoga Yoga here in Austin:
Yes, it only took my seven months of waffling, but I finally attended the magical, mysterioso Mysore class. And it was fucking scary. I think the anxiety about what to expect was more scary than anything else—having no idea what the teacher would do or what would even be going on. I sat in my car for quite some time, sweating. Afraid to go in, but afraid to go home.
I loved the teacher—she was gentle and helpful. I felt (as per usual) like a graceless elephant surrounded by very twisty gazelles. The lack of noise in the room was simultaneously peaceful and terrifying. I found myself losing focus far more than I do during home practice. There’s also something odd about the teacher having to whisper instructions to you while everyone else around you is practicing. I am not sure that I like it!
One of the other brutal realities of my life here in Austin is the fact that my allergies are out. of. control. At certain times of the year, I should NOT be in a room with other people early in the morning because it is, quite frankly, a Kaphic phlegm fest. Ugh. Yet again, I am having to renegotiate what practice means and how it will look for me. The perfectionist in me does not like the idea of deviating from “traditional” early morning Mysore or self-practice. However, that rigidity is translating to NO practice. And that is not cool. Jury is still out on Mysore…
courtesy of texasescapes.com
I have been in Texas now for two weeks and it has been difficult, thrilling, sad, beautiful, nostalgic and awesome. The trip itself was very interesting, especially the part where I drove through West Texas. I’ve never been in that part of the state and at first I found the wide open spaces to be beautiful and peaceful. After about five hours of this, I started to feel this intense and bone-deep sense of fear and panic. There. Was. Nothing. Nothing but me, my very old truck with all of my earthly possessions, scrubby creosote-esque shrubs, blue sky and rocks. All I could think about was either serial killers or breaking down and someone eventually finding my bleached bones by the side of I-10. I was startled by how intense the fear and anxiety felt; my entire body was tense and actually broke out in a cold sweat for most of the drive, which ended up taking two days. I had to stop in Fort Stockton and sleep. My cell phone also apparently hated West Texas, as it freaked out and decided to erase all of my contacts and reload itself somewhere between El Paso and Fort Stockton. I ended up having to replace my phone completely as it never seemed to recover from West Texas. Of course, this means that I will absolutely have to take a road trip to West Texas in the near future just to explore this entire phenomenon.
My life in Austin is also thus far totally free of Ashtanga. Not happy about that last part. My new living arrangement does not have my luscious yoga room, and while the house is adorable and in South Austin and my new roommate is phenomenal…I barely have room to put down my yoga mat and I find myself in a big old sulk about it. Sulking and writing run-on sentences liberally peppered with ellipses…arrrgh! There are several Mysore programs available in Austin, but all of the studio schedules have been erratic due to the holidays. I also got sick right after I moved here and no breathing = no Ashtanga. After NYE, I will go investigate a studio that has an afternoon Mysore program that happens to be right by my house. I am very resistant to the afternoon practice thing after nine months of early AM practice, but my new schedule at work is much earlier than my old one. No contempt prior to investigation! The important thing is to just fucking practice already.