Paining

So, you know Sharath's quote "First month paining, second month tired, third month flying" about practicing in Mysore? Well, my first full week of practice with Saraswathi at KPJAYI is now over and I have to declare that I am definitely paining.

This morning, getting out of bed felt kind of like this:

Saraswathi and Sharath run on different schedules, she teaches from Monday to Saturday and Saturday is led class, which is particularly hardcore. This morning she kept us in sirsasana and utpluthih for what felt like an eternity. 

Last week, I took ladies' holiday and then it was Moon Day, so I practiced a mere four days and my body was fully functional. 

This week, my joints sound like a bowl of rice crispies, they keep popping and crackling. 

Back home, I practice consistently and suffer from the usual sporadic aches and pains. Shoulders, neck, lower back, wrists occasionally. Nothing major. 

But here, my knees are bobbing every which way, weird jolts of pain keep traveling up and down my entire frame and whenever I sit, i find it increasingly hard to get up. Grandma style. Granted, here in India, sitting happens on the floor for the most part.

Saraswathi asked me to start second series this week, and that could have something to do with it. I'm on laghu vajrasana right now, and I'm afraid it could take a few lifetimes to master the getting up part. Every day, she has to grab my hips and yank me up like a broken jack-in-the-box. 

It could also be the heat. The shala, have I mentioned it's like a sauna in there? 

But I do believe there's something magical in there too. 

Some friends and I were laughing at the stench of the carpet in the shala, and someone said it's probably absorbed a few decades of sweat, including Guruji's. 

And I suppose it could be true. Whether it's his sweat, his prana, Sharath and Saraswathi's presence, the energies of thousands of dedicated teachers and practitioners who come to the source each year, or all of the above, something in there makes you give it all you've got every second that you're on the mat. 

The results are astonishing.

After a few days, I'm about a centimeter from grabbing my wrist in supta kurmasana. I'm dropping back like a fiend and I wouldn't be surprised if I catch my heels one of these days with Saraswathi's expert hold on my hips. Plus, after practice, you're just blissing out non-stop. 

Also, I've always had this thing with sirsasana. It terrifies me. The idea of not being able to see behind you and falling over to the other side... Oh..the horror! 

When I started to practice almost three years ago, I remember dreading sirsasana from the moment I got on the mat every day. And as the finishing sequence came closer, I'd get seriously nervous. It was like, sirsasana was a mean high school bully and I was a wobbly little elementary school geek. Sirsasana was always out to get me. 

I practiced falling on the grass and I'd scream like a lunatic and the fear wouldn't budge. It was extremely annoying to me that sirsasana, the "king of asanas," and all its benefits, were unavailable to me. Simply because of this inexplicable fear. I felt like such a pussy. 

Was it Deepak Chopra who said that all fear is fear of death? Well, to me, sirsasasana was kind of that. A confrontation with death or insanity, two of the most disquieting options we can be faced with. Sirsasana turns the whole world upside down, and falling from its heights is the ultimate relinquishing of control.  

Over the years, the fear has become manageable. I can get into the asana, breathe and come back down without completely losing it. But I never feel overly confident in sirsasana. You never know when the fear will overtake you again and thrash you around like a wipe out...

But now, in the shala, I feel like someone's got my back, even though Saraswathi has never come close to me when I'm in this asana. 

I wouldn't say that I've mastered sirsasana, hell no. I still can't get into B and come back up. But at least the fear seems to have dissipated. The other day I caught myself looking forward to it, and it's actually beginning to feel like a rest pose, which is exactly what it is. I guess it's bound to happen, when the rest of the practice becomes so excruciating and draining, there is nothing like hanging out upside down for 25 breaths.

Ahh the Mysore magic!