The Ashtanga Diva

Sadly, the upcoming start of the school year means an end to my attendance at Mysore classes. Sniff…can’t go to early-morning class and get the kids ready for school at the same time. Moms of elementary-aged kids know from whence I speak off—I can’t imagine that moving an Army battalion across the Iraqi desert could be more difficult.

Anyway, what this also means is that I gotta beef up the self-practice, which, together with Mysore, is how one ideally learns Ashtanga. I practiced by my lonesome in the wee hours this morning in the comfort of my family room, and I gotta say, right now, it’s  looking kinda sloppy. Couldn’t properly bind in Marichyasana D, couldn’t lock my feet together in Supta Kurmasana, totally forgot Garbha Pindasana and I think I put in one Chakrasanas too many. Or maybe I didn’t do them where they’re supposed to go. See? I’m all over the place. But I don’t want to practice with a video because I want to learn and internalize the sequence, and I don’t want to use cheat sheets and practice cards cause they interrupt the flow. I guess this is why they call it “practice.” The more I do, the more I’ll get it right. Hopefully. And I’m still hoping to occasionally join led classes here and there, as the ol’ schedule permits.

Back to Mysore tomorrow with the fabulous Antonella Accinelli at Half Moon Studio. Will try to savor every second of it.

So it’s been more than a full week since I’ve taken my first Mysore class and I’m delighted to report that it’s even more awesome than I expected. Wanna know how? Can’t talk about Mysore classes in general since I’ve only gone to one studio but let me do my…

Top 10 Reasons Why I Love Mysore at Half Moon Studio:

1. The individual attention. At first I was like, how in the world can a teacher go around the room providing individual attention when everyone’s doing something different? But you know what? This teaching method has been around for a long time because, yep, it actually works. My fab teacher, Stair Calhoun, comes around and spends a lot of time with each of her students, to the point where when her attention is focused on me, I feel like I’m the only student in the room.
2. The self-paced nature. Again, this was one of those things that I had a hard time swallowing. Because I’m a dancer first, I’m a slave to the rhythm of choreography, which is why I love Ashtanga so much. A set sequence of the same moves. But in Mysore, we don’t do them together. Everyone is basically dancing the same piece but to different music, or at least, different speeds of music. I thought I would find it distracting. But know what? I’m eating my words again cause I love it. I can breeze through the poses that I know, slow down and really work on the ones I find challenging, and flow at my own internal rhythm.
3. The masterful hands-on adjustments. Stair spends a good amount of time ever-so-carefully, millimeter by millimeter, putting me into Supta Kurmasana. She also dips me in backbends. She wouldn’t be able to do those things in a led class.
4. The individualized approach to teaching. Today, my teacher designed, on the spot, an entire practice for a student who couldn’t put pressure on her wrists. In Ashtanga, where you spend a good amount of time jumping back and forward between your arms, in Chaturanga Dandasana, and in downward-facing dog, this could be very limiting. But the studio was equipped with a wall of what looked like trapeze equipment, and the student was able to do the standing sequence using the straps and wall with no pressure on her wrists. She even did a headstand that was really cool. I wanted to do it. Looked like fun.
5. The internal vs. external focus. Because each student is practicing different parts of the sequence, you’re usually in a certain asana all by yourself. In a led class, where everyone’s doing the same thing, I usually can’t help but glance around the room to see how everyone’s doing. I can’t help it. The teacher in me wants to check out everyone’s alignment, the student in me just wants to make sure I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing vis-a-vis everyone else. But in a Mysore class, because you’re usually the only one holding that particular pose at that particular time, you have no choice but to just focus on what you’re doing. You have no one to compare yourself with, which erases the pressure of “performing,” which makes you even more aware of what your body, breath and gaze are doing, which can only deepen your practice.
6. The flexibility. Of your schedule, not your body, hehe. Basically you can practice any and all parts of the Primary Series as much or as little as you want. We have every type of practitioner at Mysore class—from a beginner who comes in and practices just her Surya Namaskara A and B, all the way to an expert yogi who does every part, including Chakrasana.
7. The close partnership between student and teacher. Before class begins, Stair engages each student in a short conversation to basically gauge their status for the day. She asks us about our injuries, how much time we have to practice that day, if we want to work on anything in particular, and anything else that might affect our practice that morning. Because of my glute/ham injury, she has me take a pause in my practice to do short strengthening exercises. See, another thing you can’t do in a led class. She’s also worked closely with me on my Chakrasana, and I’m proud to say that only after attending four Mysore classes, I’ve seen some improvement.
8. The early morning start time. The day job + the kids + teaching my own classes leaves me little time for supplemental workouts, so I try to fit them in whenever I can. The 6:30am start time is brutal early but time efficient. From what I’ve heard, this is the traditional time that Mysore is practiced. I’m grateful for my teacher for having decided to open her studio to students this early in the morning when she could be sleeping in. I seriously doubted I could make it out the door by 6 am three days a week, but I actually find myself bounding out of bed (as much as I can bound with sleeping NDH next to me) cause I just can’t wait to get to class.
9. Half Moon Studio’s beautiful surroundings. It’s next to a lake. When you look out the window, you see trees, water, the sky. The location, plus the peace of the early morning, serve as beautiful ways to start the day. Glorious and inspiring.
10. My wonderful teacher, Stair Calhoun. Without her, none of #1-9 would be happening. Matter of fact, I haven’t found a Mysore class in Fairfax County, Va. at all. Hers might be the only one. Thank you Stair, and namaste.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying led classes suck. Far from it. Led classes rock my world too. In a led class, I derive energy from other people in the room. I’m an extrovert that way. Plus, like I said, I’m a sucker for choreography. I love the beauty of large-group synchronized movement. It’s like having two kids—I love them both equally, just in different ways.

Now if I can only master the chant. My memory’s shot, especially for words. Can’t memorize phone numbers to save my life. Fortunately, I can still remember movement and choreography. Hmmm…maybe if I set the chant to an interpretive dance, I’ll be able to remember it.

Great weekend, all.

I’ve been hearing about this “mysore” thing from the day I went to my first Ashtanga class. Curious girl that I am, I had to find out all about it. Evidently it’s another type of Ashtanga class, the same but different. My first question was—how do you pronounce it? And then my second and more important question—what is it? And how is it different from a regular “led” Ashtanga class?

Off to Google I went to research the situation. But the more I researched, the more alarmed I got. Well, not exactly alarmed, but I was definitely daunted with what I found. The class is self-paced? With no teacher in the front of the room telling me what to do next? No one to motivate me and kick my ass?  What I saw in YouTube was even scarier—a roomful of people seemingly doing their own thing, knowing what comes next and how to get into the most difficult of poses, with a hands-off teacher just looking on like a benevolent Buddha.

So naturally I was scared to go. What if I don’t remember what comes next? What if I get it wrong? What if (gulp!) people laugh at me because I so obviously didn’t know what the hell I was doing and didn’t look like I belonged?! All this performance anxiety made me decide not to go, no way Jose. Mysore class (which I finally discovered was pronounced “my” as in “My dog ate my homework,” and “sore” as in “All this yoga is making my ass sore,”) ain’t for me, thankyouverymuch.

But then I made the mistake of reading more books that told me the Mysore way is the traditional way of practicing Ashtanga. That it’s how Sri K. Patthabi Jois, the founder of Ashtanga, taught his classes. Well excuse me! So my preferred way ain’t the real deal? I was agog, I was aghast (“Is Marius in love at last…”) Sorry, I digress. Always looking for ways to insert those lyrics in everyday conversation.

Anyway, I’ve always fancied myself as the kinda girl who likes to get down and do the real thing, eat where the locals eat, dress what the occasion calls for, when in Rome, that sort of thing. Authenticity is one of those traits I value. So over the last few weeks, I’ve been strengthening my resolve against my natural inclination to avoid all situations that potentially have a high embarrassment factor, and I don’t embarrass easy so the list of possible situations is short, but Mysore class was very definitely on that list. I also set myself up to succeed. I found a yoga studio with a Mysore Ashtanga class, went to a led class, met the teacher, attended her lessons, got to know her (thanks to Facebook), asked about Mysore, and voilá! There I was at the crack of early this morning standing in her studio, bleary-eyed and nervous but caffeinated and ready to go.

And you know what? I don’t know what the hell I was so worried about. My teacher, the wonderful and amazing Stair Calhoun, couldn’t have been more welcoming. Because I had warned her that this was my first ever Mysore class, and that I had no clue what I was doing, she stayed close and kept an eye on me. I did my five Surya Namaskara As and Bs, and then she softly cued me on what asana came next. With each asana, she gave me guidance on how to get into the pose, taught me the proper breathing sequence, supported me in Parivirtta Parsvakonasa, put me into Supta Kurmasana, and pressed my arms down in Prasarita C. She talked me through Bhujapidasana, did a step-by-step Chakrasana with me, and dipped me for several backbends. Felt like a private class.

Afterwards, I was drenched in sweat and absolutely exhausted but felt like I was floating on air. Yoga Buzz, you know. Very similar to Dance Buzz but with a calmer sensation and less pain in the toes.

So it’s official—I love me some Mysore. For those of you who are still daunted by the thought, come with me to class and set your mat next to mine. We’ll fumble through the asanas together. But actually, we wouldn’t be fumbling. With Stair’s able guidance and expert assists, we’ll soon be sailing through the primary series like old pros. Let’s hope!

Namaste and a high-five!