We've entered the "Mysore-style" portion of the teacher training, wherein Richard is done telling us how to rotate our radius and our ulna, how to pull back our shoulders so we don't look like chickens, and how to tip back our palates so we can imagine what it would be like to briefly get a taste of soma, the nectar of the gods. Instead, everyone can now display their vast neuroses in physical form by grinding through whatever daily practice they've imposed upon themselves at home. This all happens in one room. Whenever Mysore-style practice goes down, it's always sweaty, hot, and gross.
However, since the first two series of Ashtanga yoga (and particularly the first one) are largely comprised of forward bends, I'm not kicking it Mysore-style. Instead, Richard and Mary have kindly and skillfully devised a "Therapeutic Loop" for me. They actually spent time at home over the weekend thinking up a routine that would simultaneously rest and strengthen my ailing hamstring. Mary presented it to me this morning, and I was pleased to note that my rehab would include several repetitions of "Camper's Pose," so named because when you sit in it, you look like a camper taking a dump in the woods. Needless to say, this isn't in the regular Ashtanga routine.
When Richard sauntered into the room at 7:59 AM, I was the first thing he saw, since I'd set my mat right by the door, greatly reducing my chance of choking to death on sweaty yoga fumes.
"I see you got your paper," he said.
"Yep," I said. "Thanks for my Special Needs program."
"Special Needs," he said. "We're all heading there."
And we were off, or at least my classmates were, like puppies that had been kept in their crates all night. They began wrenching their legs behind their heads and practicing all manner of absurd physical austerities as prescribed to them by ancient scriptural texts. I did a few sun salutations and breathed deeply into a squat, grateful that the door had been left open a crack. The whole program, headstand and shoulder stand included, took me about an hour and twenty minutes. Then I got up for a pee, and sat in meditation for a minute after that, followed by another pee. Also, I blew my nose a couple of times. At some point, Richard took a break from adjusting various backbends of insanity. He squatted down beside me.
"Would you like to see the dessert menu?" he asked.
He just keeps pulling me back in, goddammit.
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