Yogini’s Quest

Two sides every coin, two legs to every pant, two hands come together to hold, two sides to every story…

I had a moment of awakening the other day.  It seems most of my lessons are coming from the classroom these days, because when I’m not at school, I’m home alone.  No, having a conversation with myself does not constitute as two sides to a story, it merely means I’m just insane.  Further, my cat meowing at me does not equal a conversation either because I don’t think either of us know what is going on.

Anyway, I had the class with the girl the other night.  You know, the one that called me a frog.  I prepped myself all day mentally creating a list of ways to set boundaries, rules and options for disciplining.  I knew I was feeling incredibly defensive and I hadn’t even arrived at school.   The moment they walked into the classroom, I had them sit in new seats.  The kids were upset, and SHE was the most outraged.  I shrugged my shoulders, “Sorry, you have to earn the seat you want.”  She loudly and sharply responded with something in Korean.  You don’t have to understand a language to recognize an aggressive tone.

I immediately noticed a handheld mirror on her desk and a comb.  I smirked to myself, she’s so vain.  While she was taking her test, I saw her primping her hair with her hands.  This girl’s hair is perfectly placed, there are no fly away strands and it sweeps perfectly to the side.  I somehow got her to engage in a conversation about parents and asked for her opinion.

“They’re terrible.  I hate my parents.”

I immediately felt myself soften towards her.  

At break, another teacher came in who is aware of my situation.  He wanted to give her a hard time for having a mirror out.  

He said, “I’m going to take this away.  Why do you have this out?”

Her response, “No teacher!” She stumbled through some words and mumbled, “I have to fix my face.”

“What do you mean?  You know when people see this out, they think you think you’re beautiful.”

“No, no!! Not true! I have to keep fixing my hair.  My face is so ugly and fat.”

He said, “That’s not true…”  I stood their stunned (I might have had my jaw drop).

She turned to him, “You wouldn’t understand.  You don’t know what it’s like to be this age.”

He tried to assuage her, but it’s true.  He’s a boy and it’s impossible for him to relate to a topic of beauty and insecurity.  My world kind of caved at that point and I don’t think it’s necessarily a good thing, but I found myself wanting to give her a hug so badly.  The hard shell, the sharp tongue and demanding words are all ways to protect her ego.  I’m not saying it’s right to be rude or disrespectful, but I can almost understand her pain — because I was there and somedays I still am.

So it seems, we aren’t so different.  We just deal with our insecurities differently.

For me, it was more an awakening about my constant lack of compassion.  I so quickly judge and fail to remember  that there are two sides to every story, to every love, and to every pain.

I know of someone who recently came to South Korea to teach.  We both worked together at the restaurant back in San Diego.  He is in a different city and arrived one month after I did.  However, after being here for one week, he had already posted a ton of pictures of his new life.  There were pictures of norae bong (Music Room aka personal karaoke rooms) gatherings with his new coworkers, rooftop dinners, soju nights, mountain hikes, random Korean food tastings, his address and his cell phone.  I instantly felt like the most boring person on the planet.  He seemed so settled and I was almost jealous.  I mean, c’mon I’d been here for nearly five weeks at this point and I still didn’t have a cell phone.

If I recall correctly, my first month in Korea comprised of  a lot of tears.  As we all know, no one wants to see pictures of that so I didn’t take any.

Okay, okay, I’m different than my friend.  For one, I have barely drank anything since my arrival to Korea.  In fact, last Saturday afternoon, I indulged in my first beer in over a month.  I’ve pretty much become a vegetarian because I’m not sure what exactly is in dishes or broths.  So, most days, I cook at home.  Who would’ve thought coming to Korea would be such a good influence on my life?

My french reader friend made a comment in my previous post about sinking into the moment.  I thought this over for a while and I can confidently say, I’m not racing to get somewhere.  Of course, I’d love to be in Spain learning to speak Spanish, but it’s not the same type of thoughts that used to consume my mind.  I always normally dwell on some past experience, wishing I could relive it, or waiting for that next moment which would bring me sheer happiness.  Right now, I’m not going in either direction and I’m not sure if it actually bothers me at all.  I think about my future and I don’t want to think that far ahead.  I look back into my past and I can just smile at the memories, even the painful ones. 

All of this brings me to santosha, contentment.  Now that I found a place to practice ashtanga, I feel like my life is more settled here.  Don’t get me wrong, I think self practice is great, but I really enjoy the accountability of going somewhere and knowing there will be someone there to greet me.

I should clarify though, santosha is keeping the mind focused in a single direction, always being happy, and never feeling regret for any reason.  I am far from the santosha experience because my mind is frequently all over the place, I’m not really sure if I am completely happy, and I often feel regret.  For example, a common regret these days is when I wish I had or hadn’t have paid so much attention to that disruptive student in class.

The other day, my girlfriend asked if I’m happy in Korea.

hmmm?

I’m not sure?  I know, don’t respond to a question with a question.  I can’t tell.  I’m not in love with the place here, but I don’t despise it so much anymore.  I guess I’m just going with the flow…

Heavy air, bugs, bulging veins and I am perspiring just walking around my apartment. It’s 27 C (81 F) right now and this apparently “isn’t that bad.”

My students say, “The worst months are August and September.”

I can’t imagine it getting any hotter or more humid. 

In my free time, outside of work friends, my only real social time is at the yoga shala and then with my cat.  Though, does social time with your cat really even count?  I’m trying to take this year out to really focus on work and my growth with the practice, but I don’t know if you can take just a year out, I’m thinking it probably just happens over time. I’m carefully reading through Yoga Mala again, and paused particularly at the beginning portion about what aspirants should be mindful and the rules to pursue.

Utsahatsahasadhaivyattattvajnansh cha nischayat

Janasanghaparityagat shadbiryogah prasiddhyate.

By means of enthusiasm, boldness, firmness , discrimination of truth, conviction and the avoidance of public gatherings, by these six things, is yoga accomplished.

-Hatha Yoga Pradipika i:16

I’m finding myself guarding against a lot of things that typically would disrupt my equilibrium.  For example, I’m avoiding anything involving alcohol and socializing, not because I resent it, but just because I’d rather sit at home.  Of course, I’m trying really hard to read yoga books, study spanish (because it’s incredibly useful in Korea), and sit still, but (there’s that contrast transition word again) I’m finding it so much easier to watch movies and eat.  

I have a dear girlfriend here and she kind of gives me a hard time for not going out with her.  I think it’s mostly because if you enjoy someone’s company, you want them to be with you when you go places, the whole creating memories thing.  Anyway, she wonders where all the men are and why she is having such a hard time finding one.  I could hear my ego talking, Pssh, you’re far more self-reliant, look at you, all alone, doing your thi- but I quickly doused my overconfident self when I stepped back for a moment.  Wait a second, it wasn’t too long ago when male attention was the foundation for a large portion of my sense of self worth.  I’m not against dating, it’s just really nice to be in a space where I’m not bitter or missing someone in that way.  I’m not wanting, needing, or seeking that type of attention from anyone.  Mostly because, a) pickings are pretty darn slim here and b) with the exception of the last man, dating, men and talking about my feelings have always resulted in more anxiety than it was ever worth.  It’s nice being in a place where I don’t feel the need to care so much about my image.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not entirely letting myself go, but I’m really wanting that solid groundwork for my practice within and I’m really just wanting to get comfortable with the way life is without forcing things.

And yes, I won’t deny how absolutely fabulous it would be, if in this year of more self-discovery my asana practice somehow started to soar…but I know, those things can’t be planned, they just sort of happen.

I haven’t written about yoga in a while, so since this is an ashtanga blog, let me indulge your desires on the practice here in Busan.

So, where have I been practicing?

I don’t have a website, otherwise I would link it. It’s called Shanti Yoga and it’s an ashtanga studio.  Actually, I’m feeling quite illiterate since I cannot understand Korean, I’m taking a guess at what the shala is about.  I’m not sure how it found me or how I found it, but I guess when you ask, you get an answer.  There are two people adjusting: Moon and Shanti.  They both studied under Vinay in Mysore (I believe).  Moon(sik) just returned from a two year stint in India and was actually there the same time I was, so we share many of the same friends.  There are pluses and minuses to being the most “advanced” student.  The plus is that I seem to be the only one who’s coming on a daily basis, so I’m getting a ton of attention.  Well, there’s also like about 1-4 students at a time.  The drawback: it’s easy to let your ego get the best of you when you’re told you’re “an advanced practitioner.”  So, if an advanced practitioner is doing all of primary, barely half of second, and a lousy viparita chakrasana at the end, then I think we’ve got some bigger problems. 

I talked to the other foreigner prior to beginning class.  He’s been practicing off and on for some time I told him where I was from and then he asked, “Do you have a blog?  Did you used to practice Bikram?”  

Can you even imagine how awkward it is for me when stuff like this happens?  I pour my heart out on this thing sometimes and I’ve shared some stuff in the past that was rather naive of me.  Well, “past” back when I used to dabble in Bikram, spin classes and dating.

All in all, I am so thoroughly enjoying all the adjustments and attention at Shanti Yoga.  I have never gotten this much assistance with my (poor) alignment.  My body is feeling an even soreness, which is fabulous because normally one side is aching more.  Moon informed us yesterday that his parents want him to come back to Seoul, which makes me very sad.  Again, life is teaching me a lesson in nonattachment.  He’s an amazing teacher and has great patience and compassion, but I was looking forward to him helping transform my physical practice.

I did a mini cleanse last week, so practice on Monday felt incredible.  Okay, plus it was humid and there was a torrential downpour of rain outside so I was bendy wendy.  Yesterday was good also and I felt strong.  You know the, Ya, I haven’t lost anything, things are connecting.  And today?  Omigod, the soreness, the weight of my body and the inability to lift.  When will this ever get easier??

Right when my ego informs me that I’m strong and fearless, humility brings me back down to the truth that I really am far from beauty and grace.

I know, I know, if it were easy, everyone would be doing it…

When I see I am nothing, that is wisdom. When I see I am everything, that is love. My life is a movement between these two.
Nisargadatta Maharaj

The other day, one of my classes had a thinking project on family traditions.  I asked them to brainstorm with me, I got my usual bunch of blank stares.  So, as a warm up, I indulged them with some personal examples.  From about the ripe age of 7 to right when I left for college, I would get up at 7:30 every Saturday and watch cartoons, while my dad would bring me home me fresh donuts. 

I got a bunch of surprised faces, “Wow! Really??” “Your Dad sounds really nice!”

I didn’t realize how special it was until this moment either.

Another class, we had to talk about a time when they didn’t want to go school and what happened.  I shared how I used to fake being sick when I was in first grade.  I also shared how I told my mom I wanted to switch from private to public school when I was in 6th grade.  A kid asked, “Were you able to?”

“Yeah”

“Wow, you have a really nice Mom. My parents hit me when I told them I didn’t want to go to school.”  

This is followed by a handful of laughs.  When kids say they were hit at home, it is shared in a joking fashion.  I find it unamusing, but given the circumstances and the customs, I try not to react in shock.  

The more I teach, the more I appreciate my family.  Leaving home has opened my eyes in so many ways.  Though, it is unfortunate that in other people’s misfortunes, I am daily finding the grace that has been given to me in my life.  I guess my goal now is to find a way to return the blessings.

OK some of you might think this is cheesy, but I love the passion emerging from the speaker.  Teachers really do have the opportunity to make a powerful impact.  I only hope some day I can make a big impression on kids or people, better yet, the world.

I recently found a place nearby that is just starting an ashtanga-mysore style program.  I decided to check it out yesterday.  Well, first, I fell down the stairs coming out of my loft after waking up.  My right arm now has a rather large cut down it and the rest of  the right side isn’t much better.  I went yesterday and was the only student.  Talk about intimidation.  Practice was just like a private session and I got so many adjustments.  I could also really hear that voice of inadequacy.  You are so dense and stiff!  

I’ll admit, self practices have been rough and I’ve been slacking.  I get distracted fairly often with the irregular ridges in my finger nails or the grains of cat litter on my floor, I swear I swept that earlier.  The last two practices at the new space have been rough and tiring.  All of a sudden, I seem to be incapable of jumping back, further, jumping through is a joke.  I could barely jump into bakasana b, which is lame because I do it all the time alone.  Of course, sometimes, it’s after I have squeezed the zit on my face and then clipped the hang nail off my toe.

Practicing somewhere is good for me.  I clearly don’t have very good discipline for self practice at the moment.  Even though practice was lousy and I felt like I took thirty steps back since Mysore, I left the shala in a very blissed out state.  I feel a little more safe and at home  knowing there is a small community nearby.

I’m feeling thankful.

I woke up so frustrated after my last post. I was at a loss for a solution.

My practice was a joke and I barely did finishing.

A care package arrived from my parents, reminding me so clearly, that yes, with all your insecurities and guilt, you are loved.

This sweet gesture from my parents put me in the greatest mood for class.  First class was awesome.  I think I really like my Tuesday/Thursday group.  Second class, well, there are only 6 kids so I can pretty much keep an eye on everyone.  I saw one boy slyly trying to hide whatever he was doing on his cell phone under his desk.  I let it slide, one, two, three times.  I was seriously hoping I wouldn’t have to do anything.  Finally, I calmly walked by him when we were reading and opened up my hand.  He looked up, startled, “What?” I said, “Please hand it over.”  He quickly said, “I’m not doing anything.  Dictionary teacher…” I’m not an idiot.  Calmly and careful not to disrupt the rest of the room, I said, “Please give it to me.”

Thereafter, I could feel him withdraw.  He put his head on the desk and became incredibly solemn.  My heart started to ache right there.  I asked him, “Please sit up straight.”  He wouldn’t even look up.  So, I pursued my own feelings.  I could barely focus on other students during this time and tried to involve the boy by asking him to read.  I still could feel myself feeling awkward and bad for making him feel this way.  However, He became gradually more involved in class.  I handed back his phone by the end of the hour and he thanked me.

What did I learn?

Well, I’m a pushover for one.  Second, I realized my bad habit of always trying to save everyone and everything.  I’ll get upset and act and it will be followed up with an immense feeling of blame and guilt.  I’ll feel bad for making the person uncomfortable, upset, etc.  However, what I forget is the person is feeling this way because they were disruptive, they broke a class rule, etc.  This also transcends into my life experiences too.  I’m upset because a person has wronged me in some way, so I react, and then I feel guilty because I should have shown more compassion, so I’ll do everything I can to “save” the person and fix the awkward feelings.  Yet, half the time, it was just a misunderstanding of feelings, something was neglected, and no one needs to be saved or get angry.  This all being said, the situation STILL needed to be addressed, so I should never have felt guilty about bringing it up.

I guess, I really just need to learn to ride it through and let it pass.  You know, just observe and experience the process of growth.  After all, I’ll never heal anything if I keep interrupting the pain.

Are you not willing to be sponged out, erased, canceled, nothing?  If not, you will never really change.

D.H. Lawrence

I am exhausted.  My cat is so loud.  He meows all the time and wakes me up in the middle of the night running around playing.  

I know, he just wants attention.

Teaching today was so draining. First, there’s this girl, she’s an elementary student, and really smart.  However, she talks to her friend a lot and whines every time we start a new section.  She did something I specifically had asked not to do and since I disciplined a boy the other day for the same thing, I had to discipline her.  Fairness, right?  

At the end of class, multiple things led to this, I didn’t let her work with her friend for the final project.  Instead, she got paired up with a boy.  Talk about a death sentence, they both refused to speak to each other.  Very shortly after, as I kneeled down to talk/softly scold them, a few tears streamed down her face.  I, of course, broke down and let her work with the very quiet girl next to her.  The project involved writing a letter about something they didn’t understand that their parents made them do.  The boy wrote a letter about not understanding why his parents made him study so much…and why they hit him.  My gosh, I felt so awful for disciplining either one of them.

I know, both kids are wanting attention.

In my second class tonight, I had a devil child.  It’s the type of girl who’s constantly looking at her reflection in her cell phone, brushing her hair to the side, and being incredibly disrespectful.  She proceeded to make a mockery of me by saying my eyes were huge and when I smiled, I reminded her of a frog.  Then, it was as if the voices crept in.  You know, the insecure child in me started to emerge.

You see, I went to a private Christian school when I was little.  The school was predominantly rich, white children.  My grandma, bless her naive soul, had wanted my sister and I to have a Christian education.  Anyway, the frog-eyed insult brought back the old memories of the boy, Kelley Gural, in 4th grade who used to call me “Bug eyes.”  My now 26-year old self thought, Are you kidding me?? You are STILL carrying around the stupid boy’s name and his lame comment?? Are you really taking this personally??

So, she continued by insulting my outfit, all the while she’s giggling (at my expense).  At this point, I was ready to snap.  She continues on and on, “…And Teacher, he he your outfit haha so funny its like a frog.  Your big eyes…”

I cut her off, actually, this was the third time I very sternly cut her off, “…I suggest you stop before you say something you will regret.”  I don’t know if she understood “regret,” but she sure as shit understood my tone.  Her level of disrespect made my jaw knot and had no idea how to handle it.

I know though, she just wanted attention.

I pondered pulling her aside during their project and calmly asking her what was going on.  How could it be better for her?

My voice of reason yelled, BUT you don’t want to be their friend, you are their teacher!!  Oh, but somewhere, deep inside, there’s little Tiffany with knees folded up to her chest (no wonder pasasana is easy), sniffling in the corner…and all she’s ever wanted is to be noticed, accepted, and for people to like her.

AND I know, after all these years, I still haven’t given myself the right attention.

Where and when did we all go wrong?  How can I give attention to my students, but still manage my class?  How can I meet their needs with love, but not allow myself to get swept under?  When will I grow up and stop taking things (especially those from an 8th grader) so personally?  When will I finally get the attention and love I am aching for, from me?

My girlfriend was telling me about something that irritates her about one of her students.  She was being really funny and animated.  I, of course, started laughing at his expense.  About 2.5 second later, WHAM, I fall off the edge of the sidewalk and have shooting pains towards the edge of my right foot.

annnnd that’s what I get for laughing at someone else.

The next morning, when walking around my apartment, my foot felt really tender.  I was wondering how ardha badha anything was going to be during practice.  I decided not to stand around and debate, but just start.  There is quite an irony to this instant karma business though.  I took great care doing anything involving placing pressure on the edge of my foot as it was bruised.  Ever since India, I first started doing lousy jump backs.  When I mean jump backs, I mean the action of moving into chaturanga from lolasana without any assistance from my feet (no toe drag).   Jump backs can take a lot of energy, especially right now (since I’m still figuring out what the hell I’m doing).  Point being, I’m stronger on one side and generally end up with my right foot landing first and then pulling my left foot back to meet it.  Yet, somehow, the fear over the possibility of landing too hard on my right foot on Friday caused me to shoot back my left leg first.

This has taken months for me to figure out…and I think if I hadn’t have fallen off the sidewalk, because I was making fun of someone else, I never would’ve really avoided landing on my right foot.

I still don’t get this karma thing, but I guess it helps me in multiple ways.

Life is getting easier here and I’m starting to feel a little more in my groove.  I’m not sure what lies in the future of ashtanga.  I wonder if people will still continue to make the trek to Mysore now that Guruji is gone.  Will people accept Sharath as their teacher?  Is Sharath fit to lead so many?  I’m not sure what I think.  I definitely did connect with Sharath while I was there and have every intention of returning to practice, but I just wonder how the original students under Guruji feel.  

I guess time will tell…