Month: March 2015

Córdoba

~ teganb ~ 6 Comments

The sun burst through the thick grey slab ofDSCF3363 cloud at last this week, and shines as though it is here to stay. “Nature knows best,” an old Sevillan man told me as I waited in front of the Spanish school one afternoon with a group of students, all talking about the recent weather changes. “The olive trees, the orange blossoms, the fruits of the harvest need the rain! Soon the sun will scorch everything—you will see—it will be hot and dry until October. Nature knows best.”

Rumours of the summer’s temperatures do have us a little nervous, but for now, the sun reflecting off the buildings outside our window enlivens me when I wake up and pull the shutter open, knowing a long, bright, warm day is ahead.

Robin and I were invited by a new friend to take advantage of one beautiful day with a trip to Córdoba. This friend is from Paris, a lovely and lively woman who drove all the way here with the company of people she met on a ride-share website. Having her car here she offered to drive us, so off we went one morning to spend the whole day exploring somewhere new.

Córdoba is a place dear to the hearts of DSCF3377many Sevillanos, and we found that it lived up to all praise. The Arab influence on Andalucía is especially evident in this city, particularly in the many water features throughout the city. Water is extremely important in Islam, as a symbol of purity, as a means to cleanse the body and as the source of life for all living things. The tiny stone alleyways apparently also come from the Arabs, which are common in Sevilla as well, but Córdoba is much smaller and lower in building height, giving it a small town feel and making it a truly charming place to wander through.

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Having only one day to see as much as we could, we had each asked around regarding the must-see sites of the city. Everybody agreed the Mesquita (mosque) and the Alcázar (main palace or fortress) were unmissable. We started with the Mesquita, where the layers of Anducian history can be seen in the very walls. Hundreds of pillars held up the dimly lit, incense-laden air of the once-mosque, displaying the ancient work of the Romans. After the Arabs invaded the region, they used the pillars to build their own mosques and structures. And after the Christians began the Conquista and pushed the Moors out seven centuries or so later, in 1492, they used the Muslim buildings for their own. Mosques became Catholic churches, either renovated or partly torn-down and reconstructed in the elaborate baroque style of the era. This layering of cultures has endowed Andalucía with some of the most interesting and beautiful churches in Europe.

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The Alcázar remains a striking fortress, with amazing views from the top of its tower, but the most impressive part is the immaculate expanse of the gardens. The importance of water can be seen in beautiful pools and fountains rimmed with flowers and filled with black and orange fish.

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After we spent a good long while soaking up the atmosphere of the gardens,we spent the rest of the day wandering through the city, which sits along the banks of the same river, Guadalquivir, that runs through Sevilla. A Roman bridge crosses from the Mesquita to the other side, a sight evocative of ancient history, today reserved for pedestrians and cyclists. We also enjoyed some delicious food, including the famous salmorejo of Córdoba, a cold tomato soup with lots of garlic, and the classic potato filled tortilla; tortilla is everywhere in Spain and is almost always very tasty, but there definitely was something particularly good about the one we found in Córdoba.

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We drove back after dinner—which we ate around 10pm like good Spaniards (topped off with a generous portion of chocolate cake)—and got back to Sevilla around midnight, tired but happy. It was a beautiful day, with good company, good food, good sight-seeing. It was also a good day for Spanish, which for the past week or so, Rob and I have been using as our main mode of communication. This can get tiring at times (and sometimes you just need to indulge in a little English), but the tangible results of easier communication and better comprehension provide the motivation to keep going. It feels as though we are at last settling into being here, and our adventure to Córdoba has left me excited for all the other places we can explore during the year. I still miss home something fierce, but I am ready to embrace this Spanish experience as fully as possible.

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The Storm

~ teganb ~ 4 Comments

Life is wild. Sometimes the chaos spins up around us and howls so loud we cannot help but shake and wail, or leap with excitement, or buckle in a heap of tears. Sometimes life seems to ask us to jump, sometimes to hide, sometimes to dream, sometimes to act. At other times it seems to ask nothing of us. We may wander aimlessly, wondering what the meaning of it all is, where we came from, where we are going, why we are here. During these quiet moments, the wildness of life occurs within the space of our own chest, in the tension and release of our limbs, in the leaps and crashes of emotion and the babbling of our mind. This can be as challenging as the worldly ups and downs that take place without. At least external chaos offers some distraction from the unruliness of the mind, the overpowering emotions of the heart. Stillness around us reveals the noise within, and we do not always like what we hear.

Leaving the strict, busy schedule of yoga teacher training has revealed the intense play of my inner peaks and valleys. My days lie open before me, waiting for me to make of them what I will, and faced with the pressure of an open canvas my mind spins too many plans and I cannot keep up. A mixture of emotions begins to whirr. I feel excitement at all the possibilities before me, but also doubt and fear in wondering how to take advantage of them. I feel the smart of past failures (both real and imagined), and worry if self change is truly possible. Sometimes a wave of depression takes hold, which feels like a warning shot; I could slide down a slope that would end in a grey soup of the mind, chemically deprived of joy, where dark stories take hold and motivation is a foreign word with no meaning. An invisible lead apron descends upon the chest, and under its weight comes the terrible sensation of not enough breath.

We all feel depressed at times. However, there is a line where feeling depressed becomes more than an emotion. Many people in our society have suffered—or still suffer—from depression to varying degrees, and it can be debilitating. The times I have been depressed were often not apparent to me until after I began to emerge from the fog, and I could see more clearly how low the baseline from which I was experiencing life had dropped. I am grateful for the people, the life changes, the activities that helped me move through and up and out again. I know some people suffer more severely and require other treatments to regain light inside the brain. Whatever the degree, I will always have deep compassion for all those dealing with depression, and for their friends and family too. The feelings of isolation that accompany the state make it hard to connect with others, and the ensuing hurt affects everyone.

It is no wonder that the fear of depression underlies my other feelings of trepidation. Things are changing, new possibilities really do exist in all directions, but not if my inner landscape darkens beyond my reach. Incidentally, my struggles of this past week have matched the sky, which has been sealed over with grey clouds, like a steel dome. On occasion the sun does burst through with blinding brightness. More often the droplets gather dark and close above and let loose all at once. Depending on the climate of my mind, the rain can feel either calm and comforting or like a cold heavy curtain blocking out the sun’s warmth.

When I find myself teetering on the edge of a downward slope, I know I must do whatever I can to catch a glimpse of hope. A song, a conversation, a walk can make all the difference—anything to shake up the settling shadows and allow even the tiniest ray of light through. Circumstances may remain as they were, the mountain to climb still stands, but something physically releases. The invisible weight on the body starts to evaporate, and the breath comes more easily. The return of the breathe carries us through the storm.

“The basic thing,” says the Dalai Lama, “is that everyone wants happiness, no one wants suffering… we are all the same.” The Buddha said, “you can search the ten-fold universe and not find a single being more worthy of loving kindness than yourself.” Rumi said, “close your eyes, fall in love, stay there.” The wise words of these sages help me to remember: we are not alone, we deserve to be happy, and it is worth doing whatever it takes to remind ourselves of this any time we forget.

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Yoga Limbs

~ teganb ~ 2 Comments

An unexpected class cancellation finds me sitting in a pagoda with the sun on my back, birdsong in my ears, and breeze tickling my skin. It has been nearly three weeks since I arrived, and in just a day or so more I will be on my way, as a certified yoga teacher.

The journey has coursed many ups and downs. But we all are nearly there, and having taught our classes and written our tests, the nerves are subsiding and our impending departure feels tangible. The sun feels extra sweet shining down as the wind ripples through the grass fields and shakes the leaves of the orange trees. We have begun to hug each more often, supporting one another through the crunch time and savouring the friendships we have made; it will be no easy task to say goodbye to one another. But even as we all go forth to different lands and adventures, we share a knowledge of the tools we can use to bring yoga to others, with a deeper understanding of the physical and philosophical workings of the practice.

Yoga comprises an eight-limbed path, which is ultimately a path of meditation as a way to reach enlightenment, or to remove the ignorance that causes suffering, allowing us to experience our infinite nature. The path also includes many specific observances to help us on our journey to remembering our True Self, and live good, pure lives along the way.

The first limb consists of restraints, loosely translated from Sanskrit as non-violence; truthfulness; non-stealing; sexual integrity; and non-greed. The second limb focuses on practices to observe, including purity and cleanliness, both physically and mentally; contentment (stemming from bringing awareness to the present moment and finding gratitude for what is); self-discipline; self-study and the study of spiritual texts; and surrender to the Absolute, meaning acceptance of the mystery of life and our lack of control over it, not in resignation, but rather by embracing whatever life has in store for us, trusting in its ultimate positive nature.

The third limb consists of the postures, or asanas, the physical practice and poses that we in western society generally associate with yoga. The postures traditionally made up the smallest part of the yogic path, and the Yoga Sutras—the ancient yogic text in which the eight limbs were first penned—refers mainly to the posture of sitting in meditation. In order to keep the body healthy and allow a person to meditate comfortably without distracting physical pains, postures transformed into series of dynamic poses, although it was only in the last few centuries that the number of poses really increased and diversified. It has been interesting to learn how small a part that asana practice played in the yogic path until relatively recent times, and also how the tradition has evolved and changed to meet the needs of the current day.

The fourth limb of yoga is pranayama: practices to control and extend the breath and the life force energy we access through breath. Breathing exercises and movement with the breath remain key components of physical yoga practice.

The fifth limb is withdrawal of the senses—turning our gaze inward—the first step of meditation. Concentration follows as the sixth limb, which leads to the seventh limb, meditation itself. All previous limbs lead to the eighth and final limb of the yogic path, which is enlightenment, waking up to our true nature as infinite consciousness that encompasses everything and everyone; separation is an illusion, and we discover that “we” are actually the infinite, blissful, creative, capital-O One.

Yoga may be practiced alongside any other spiritual practice, and devotion to some sort of higher power is also considered a yogic practice.

At first when learning this philosophy, it was easy to feel a little overwhelmed, or daunted by some of the traditional or extreme interpretations. However, the eight limbed path as an overarching guide makes quite a lot of sense. It provides tools to keep the body healthy and steady the mind, and lays out basic principles for living a good life.

After years of moderate practice and three weeks of more intensive daily practice, I can attest to the difference that yoga makes in everyday life. The first difference I noticed is the amount of energy I have. I first became aware of the change in Vancouver, getting up tired and underslept on dark cold mornings to attend yoga before work. Every time the alarm went off I began a battle with myself to get out of bed, and I admit that yoga did not always win, but every time it did I felt a world of difference afterwards and throughout the remainder of that day.

Doing so much yoga over the past three weeks has energized me despite many nights of not quite enough sleep, but another subtle difference has also begun to emerge. Perhaps it stems from the peace of moving with the breath and observing without judgement during practice, or perhaps from soaking up some of this philosophy, but whatever it is, I have noticed a bit more space blooming within my mind, from which to notice thoughts and feelings without necessarily reacting. This is the space we are promised by following the yogic path, and having begun to experience it, I have hope that it is indeed the place from which I can live more consciously and make positive changes.

I feel excited to bring this space I am creating within myself out into the world and into my relationships. I know it will take work (even a few conversations with family shows me that old patterns are very strong and it is going to take a lot of awareness to change them!). Still, I can feel just a little more room to breathe, a little more room to observe, a little more room to just be in this present moment. I look forward to experiencing this at play in daily life, and furthermore, to being qualified to teach this practice that not only benefits the body but also energizes us and encourages an inner peace. Many of us in the west come to yoga for physical health, but the well-being we experience runs so much deeper. The postures of yoga can be modified to be accessible to all bodies, and I believe the philosophy can also benefit us no matter what other beliefs we may hold. I am grateful to now know more about both aspects, and it will be an honour to teach others in this practice which gives so much to the body, mind and spirit.

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Stamina

~ teganb ~ 3 Comments

The end of this week draws nearer. Tomorrow morning at 7:30 I will be teaching my first official class. I have written out a sequence on some flash cards, with a number of optional sequences penciled in, given the very good chance I will speed through my planned poses in an anxious whirl, and be left wondering what to say next in order to fill the 75 allotted minutes. Of course, it all has to flow nicely as well, and include all the necessary elements (warm-up, standing postures, backbends, etc) in the right quantities. It feels a bit like baking a cake at this point, and I am worried that if I stir too much or too little the whole thing will flop. Hopefully it is more like making pasta or stir-fry or something, and a little extra dash of this or that will not ruin the overall taste.

The weather has been beautiful for most of this week. Warm enough, in fact, to entice me and one of my new friends to hop in the outdoor pool—a short but very (very!) refreshing dip. A couple of days ago, on the day we passed the halfway mark of this course, the sun beamed down like a midsummer’s day on the BC coast. It was also the only day off from classes we get during this course, and I had a fantastic time; Robin rode the bus to a neighbouring village, where I met him on foot. We spent the day eating and wandering, walking over the hill back to the yoga compound, passing through some lovely old ruins on the way, and enjoying the beginnings of a beautiful sunset spilling out over the hills before he had to leave and catch the last bus home. I sat a while after he left, holding the warmth of the day close to my heart as the air quickly cooled, before settling into the knowledge that there are no more days off and we students are beginning the last and steepest incline before getting through this course.

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I woke several times that night, thinking it must be time to get up. Otherwise I slept lightly, lost in restless dreams that I was teaching my class—or trying to—as the head teacher constantly interrupted me to give me feedback. The next morning the hills were covered in mist. The air was quiet and thick, and added to the feeling of being very much back-to-the-grind. Today, however, the mist has been blown away by a rambunctious wind that whips all the laundry drying on the line into a big clump at one end, and makes the doors and windows bang. I hear the temperature will drop this evening. And tomorrow morning, just after the chilly dawn, I will be one of the first students to teach. I am happy enough to get straight to it (and get it over with). We have reached that stage where no more lectures, reading, note-taking or demo watching can make us become better teachers; we will just have to start out as the shaky, fledgling instructors we are, with the aim to just get through as gracefully as we can, because it is the only way. I think we have a painful habit in the west of wanting to be perfect at everything before we do it, which is madness. We often feel embarrassed at not doing something well, even when we have only just started. Why should there be shame in learning something new? If only we could embrace being beginners; there is a kind of magic in that space I think, if only we would allow ourselves to see it—we are creating, we are leaping, we are living.

Hopefully such thoughts will stay with me as I begin my class tomorrow morning… and at the end of it too, when everyone will go round and critique my performance (including the teachers). At this point I feel so tired that I am more worried about my intensely aching shoulders picking tomorrow morning to give out on me. We are certainly building stamina here, of different kinds.

Goodnight and sweet dreams all,
whenever your night may fall.
And good luck with any and all
beginner’s wobbles and falls.

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