Sunday, November 8, 2009


I'm at the house for the weekend and I forgot my DVD. This is why I need a packing list for travelling to the house. So I'm writing one up. I'll keep it in my GTD system as a Saturday reminder. I forgot a bunch of stuff this time, stuff I can live without, but I do like my creature comforts on the weekend!

I bought the Beryl audio recording off of iTunes for emergencies like this (Yes, I could have practised to Sharath's recording, but I'm on a Beryl kick right now). I like this recording. It's even more casual and layed-back than the DVD. The pace is a bit slower, no Sankrit counting and some poses and vinyasas are skipped. It was recorded in the Caribbean and I like to imagine that after Savasana, I'll head to a café with my fellow Astangis for a beachside brunch. ;-)

This one feels like a real class because it *is* a real class. Beryl even makes a few verbal snafus that I like to call 'Voiceos' - you know, like Typos, except you're talking instead of typing. She gets her left and right mixed up once, cues 'bring the torso to the chest' when she means 'torso to the leg'...that sort of thing.

All you yoga teachers out there are probably nodding; you've been there, done that. You know exactly how it feels. And how does it feel? Well, when you're a new teacher, you beat yourself up about it a lot. After a few years of teaching, it's no big deal. You shrug, correct the error if you actually catch it and move on. Half the time, the students don't even notice - they're too busy trying to wrap their arm around their leg or whatever you've told them to do.

Occasionally, I'll make a *really* big boo-boo in my cueing and my students will try to do this impossible thing I've just asked them to do (like grab the big toe of their standing leg when their other leg is already lifted and then they'll get his panicked look. It's like 'The Three Stooges Do Yoga'. Then I have to 'fess up to my Voiceo and backtrack. Good times. :-D

I had a good practice today. Got up early and meditated for a half-hour before unrolling my mat.

The house is very, very quiet and I'm still not used to it. I'm accustomed to the sounds of the city. It's pretty noisy in my apartment even when all the doors and windows are closed. I can hear the fridge, the buzz of the heating system, traffic outside and foot traffic in the hallway. The house is completely still and the silence actually has a sound of its own. I was listening this morning as I meditated. The silence was a roar, a buzzing in my ears.

I recall a character in a movie once turning on a recording of city sounds - traffic, horns, voices - as she went to bed. She was a New Yorker and couldn't sleep without the noise. At the time, I thought it was funny, but now I totally get it. Silence is noisy too, in a different way.

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