Heart Space & Collarbones

Right after Lindsay's class last night at YTTP, I went straight to Go Yoga to catch Michael Hewett's class. I would like to apprentice under him, and though I'm not sure what that means since I can't adjust his classes or anything like that without a formal teacher training, I really want to learn from him and get some advice on how to be.

Even though it's something I have to figure out on my own. I know. You probably do, too. I know. It can be fun sometimes.

Michael kept getting me to squeeze my shoulder blades together down my back, and open up the area right around my collarbones.

That's your area of self-expression. It's the space you close up when you get hurt.

And, all of a sudden....I felt so abandoned. So incredibly abandoned. I suddenly remembered it being 2 AM in the morning the night before a final paper was due, and this kid- a friend of my roommate's... they were all going out, a whole group of her friends, but they met at her apartment first.

But this kid- I can't even remember his name- asked if he could linger on in the apartment. My first response was "Not tonight, I have to go to sleep and write an essay". But then two minutes later, he asked again, he asked if he could take a nap, just for twenty minutes, because he was so tired.

And I've been exhausted and relatively homeless in the city. Of course I said yes.

He lied down on the couch and then asked me if I had a plastic bag. And in a second I understood that he was not just tired, he was drunk- and dangerously so. He threw up, three times, mostly in bags with shocking accuracy, a bit on the couch and a roommate's boot. I cleaned the boot. I got him some water, and he was pale, and dizzy and either really cold or really warm (I can't remember).

I felt scared. Not scared, as in, someone will be angry, not scared as in, someone doesn't like me, not scared that I can't do it or I'm going to die (You know, my favorite fears). Scared as in, someone is hurt. Really scared.

And I didn't know what to do. Look up alcohol poisoning on my Iphone. Call someone.

"You're going to be ok" I tell him, "Have some water".

"Please don't call anyone" he says.

"I'm scared," I tell him (soothing voice). "I don't know how much you had to drink, and I don't know what to do".

"A lot. Please don't call anyone. Please. I got to go to work tomorrow morning".

"I understand and respect that, but I'm not sure. I'm not sure if I could deal with myself if I didn't" I told him.

"Don't call anyone. Please. Just be with me." (We do drama on the Mott St. Network, kids).

"I'm going to call 311" I told him "Not 911. I just want some advice".

I call 311. They tell me that I should call 911 if it's an emergency. Huh.

I want to call someone else, but I don't know who to call. It hits me: there is no one that I really trust. Any person who answers the phone is going to tell me to call 911, maybe even I would (would I? wouldn't I? would I? ....after a few moments in this hypothetical, I let it go).

You seek the advice of people who generally tell you what you want to hear. I told De La Vega that Sartre said that (he did), that's why I was asking advice at the "Become Your Dream" station.

I thought of calling Rich. He didn't pick up.

And I feel so abandoned. There is no one I can ask to tell me what I need to hear, what I know I need to hear: to trust my judgement and respect this drunk kid's wishes as long as he's coherent enough to make them. In a moment of real crisis, and real panic, I don't know who to call.

Who would I become if I just didn't want to deal with this mess, if I freaked out under pressure, got him taken away? After he said no. I don't do stuff after a person says no. Maybe life/death. I doubt this kid is on death's door.

He's thrown up three times, he's probably fine now, he's not passing out. I put him on his side, on my bed, on the covers. Held his hand. I intended to stay up the whole night, but I was feeling dead exhausted by now, finals week, and I wanted to lie down, too.

I positioned myself right next to him so I could tell if he was breathing, intending to rest my body but not my mind. After a long time of this, him breathing smooth, feeling better, I began to drift in and out of consciousness. I kept poking him to make sure he was ok. (I don't think he liked this).

He smelled like beer and liquor and started to nudge himself closer to me. I pushed away. I simultaneously took this as a sign that he was feeling better, but at the same time decided not to ascribe motives. After all, trying to cuddle next to someone when you feel miserably sick could be instinctual. I have no clue. I don't care. I maintained distance, but kept holding his hand. Drifted in and out of sleep.

In the morning he woke up, 8:40 AM, no joke, and went to work. I asked him if he would come back and help clean the couch later (very jesus-like), he said yes, I have no clue if he did or didn't, I just fell asleep. Roommates came home two hours later, loudly, I'm so beyond caring about anything- how could I explain what just happened and what would be the point? I just want it to be quiet.

- Now, that whole story didn't blow through my mind in my up-dog last night. In fact, I totally forgot about it until I was trying to blog it just now. But the feeling of abandonment did. Mixed with forty different kinds of wishing I could rely on someone. Knowing it's for the best that I can't. Crying through class : )

Michael at one point said things along the lines of "what would it feel like to actually become the thing you want to be? What would it feel like to envision a positive future? If you can't, notice that, what makes it hard. Tired of being in limbo". So much gratitude for those words. I felt like they were directed right at me, and if they weren't, that makes it all the more impressive. Ironically, he said that at the exact moment I was experiencing another kind of abandonment. For one moment of that day. But if you want an accurate description for how I feel when I'm not on top of the world right now- that's it. Dead on.

He also talked about thinking of class as pharmacology.

After class, I asked him "What pill was that?"

"The green one", he smiles.

Holly

Holly has successfully bottled joy. That was freaking awesome, and incredibly inspiring.

Also, I ran into Laria on the street today! Guess who's going to Yoga Vida tomorrow?

Patience is like Courage

It's tough for me to see people in my teacher training teaching class when I'm not.

I want to be happy for them. Part of me is. Part of me... not quite jealous, I know everyone's journey is different... part of me just feels left out.

So I came to Lindsay's class and saw Holly teaching, and Holly was so vibrant and positive and so clearly held the space- Why can't I do that, I think...

So I take a break and breathe a bit in child's pose, massage my neck and remind myself of stuff. Such as, Holly is incredible. And she's Holly. And you're you. And you'll get there. And if you allow envy to take over your practice, that's an active choice that's harmful for everyone. Don't do it.

If I truly believed I was on my way to teaching, then I would have only joy.

I grabbed a permanent marker and wrote "Patience is like courage, it just takes longer". A favorite quote that Liz, another YttP wonderful teacher, taught me. I wrote it right on my left hand so that I would see it as I practiced. It worked.

Patience

I taught class last Thursday. It was incredible, it deserves its own post and many more, actually.

Thursday was arguably the most elated day of my existence, I just woke up that way. And as your mood makes the weather, I found out on Friday that I am a nasty, impatient perfectionist (I will one day be perfectly rid of these qualities, of course). Friday wasn't as kind, but very arguably I didn't give it a chance. I woke up thinking, "Oh, today cannot possibly be as good as yesterday..."

That's not a path to success by any means.


Anyway, it took three hours of yoga to realize this, because I was busy ignoring the less satisfying (satisfiable) aspects of my being in favor of denial.

My first class was with Giada, a basic beginners. It was a slow class, I thought at first, but that's all right because I'll take another later on. Maybe I'll go running. I would really like to go swimming.

Despite the agitation, I should really consider this practice as a learning experience. Giada knows so much, and she's so calm. Learn from her. Learn from her, that's what you should do. Just breathe. It's not that hard, don't think when class will be over. Don't hate cobra. I hate cobra. Don't hate cobra.

And about halfway through it way pretty obvious that it was moving way too slowly.

Just like everything else.

Just like teaching, just like it being fucking March and I feel no where. And yesterdays class was NOT good enough.

David asked me to put on a playlist and I spent 20 minutes picking out songs, who was I kidding.
I didn't even clean up downward facing dog.
I rushed through every pose up till pidgeon, 'cept chair pose.
And maybe Greg had David listen at the door, or had someone in class. But no, of course he wouldn't, that would be an impressive and quite honestly, shocking, show of affection.

And I want to fucking teach, and I want to fucking teach at YTTP because that place fucking matters to me. And I have no way of getting Greg's attention and I want to fucking rip things to shreds.

Namaste.