Open Your Feet

At thermodynamic equilibrium, a system’s properties are, by definition, unchanging in time. This we know from some French folks who brought us the subject of Thermodynamics.

As we all know, the French are very sophisticated.

Anything that passes across the boundary that effects a change in the internal energy needs to be accounted for in the energy balance equation. What is interesting to me today is that these boundaries can be real or imaginary, and can be divided into so many subcategories. It occurred to me this morning after I finished teaching, when I climbed onto my mat and into my individual system, that our Mysore Room is something of a micro climate. Concepts from my high school physics class floated into my awareness as the sweat poured off my face and the sound of my breath joined the similar efforts of others around me. The practice room is an open system.

In open systems, matter may flow in and out of the system boundaries. The first law of thermodynamics for open systems states: the increase in the internal energy of a system is equal to the amount of energy added to the system by matter flowing in and by heating, minus the amount lost by matter flowing out and in the form of work done by the system.

Managing our energy, or Prana, is the central concern of this morning system. We are individual systems working in concert to maximise conditions for optimal flow. Any disruptions to the concentration in the room causes “prana leakage” and the whole system suffers! My co-teacher and I, Susan, function as units to preserve the conditions for maximum efficiency in the room, so that individuals can flourish in the best possible atmosphere for preserving their concentration (Dharana). Our job is to hold it together, to quash dissident vibes, to encourage without mollycoddling, so that individuals have their best chance of success without distraction to the group as a whole.

My job with the early bunch at 06:00 is much easier because the individuals in that system are more trained and the atmosphere is relatively stable. People know the rules and behave accordingly. The whole thing is just like riding in a group of cyclists who know the rules; as a system they function at maximum efficiency with minimal chances of concentration derailment.

I finish teaching and Susan takes over at 08:00 with a group of beginners whose attention is scattered and entropy abounds. Her job is much harder. This morning while I practiced amongst their considerable chaos, I admired my colleague so much for her perfect humour- and I greatly admired the beginners who took to the task of starting something completely esoteric, totally intimidating, and at odds with the limits of their very bodies from the starting instant. What makes us do these things that are hard? Why is the crack of the whip so galvanising of our attention? Why is deep concentration so beautiful?

Managing our attention is central to Yoga practice. At first it is undoubtedly like corralling cats, lassoing a cloud, or any number of other really hard things. But these new rivers of prana, lines of neuromuscular energy, quickly take root and once the rules bed into habits, it gets easier. For the Mysore beginner, there is one rule: Do It Every Day. Practice, practice. You can govern your own mental entropy- for a short time at least- until you crash or perish naturally. But you have to try hard and dig in with dogged determination and your first foe is your own wandering attention.

Anyway, I’m here to tell you that it gets easier. And you have allies. Thank you, Susan.

In isolated systems it is consistently observed that as time goes on internal rearrangements diminish and stable conditions are approached.

That’s right. Open it, flush it out, and pay the nice lady for her trouble. Colon Hydrotherapy is everything I thought it would be, and really no big deal at all. This simple, internal bathing is really a contemporary kriya in its own right. Kriya (in Sanskrit “action, deed, effort”) most commonly refers to a “completed action”, technique or practice within a Yoga discipline meant to achieve a specific result.

The results I am experiencing this afternoon? Bright, light, spaciousness. Ballast be gone. Tomorrow the Juice Feast starts and I have Susan Reynolds, aka “Wee Yogi”, to thank for this shiny new era of my life. Tomorrow we talk about alkalising the body chemistry. And today? Today I’m floating, which is a Highly Recommended form of travel.

A Note to Yoga Teachers, serious Yoga Students, Edinburgh Uni groups, and anyone else who might be interested in setting up some Festival classes/events at Bristo Yoga School this August. Our intrepid Studio Manager, Natalie Jobanputra, is now opening the door to proposals. Please email her, contact@bristoyogaschool.com, with a note of your interest, and she’ll send out the BYS Fringe Info Pack by the 11th of April at the latest.

The general theme for our Festival Timetable this August will be based on Matsyendra and the Origins of Hatha Yoga. Your class and/or event does not have to relate directly to whales, Shiva, or our “Yoga in the Belly of the Whale” theme. However, it is there for you to respond to if you wish. Matsyendra (Matsyendranath) and Goraksha (Gorakshanath) are often credited with being the founders of the Hatha Yoga lineage, and there is a vast body of legends about them.

The following is from Pureyoga.com, thanks to Steeve:

The Goraksha Samhita

As far as we know, the title of the first ever written text dedicated to Hatha-Yoga is ‘The Goraksha Samhita’ and is also known under the title ‘Goraksha Paddhati’. It was written 1,000 years ago by the sage Goraksha. Goraksha is the most well-known student of Matsyendra, the man who heard the teachings of yoga from the very lips of Shiva.

According to legend, Shiva, the God of the universe, decided to teach Hatha-Yoga. But to teach Hatha-Yoga, Shiva needed students. He looked around to see who was fit to be his student and his gaze fell upon his own wife, the charming Parvati. Since he didn’t want anyone else partaking in his teachings, he decided to teach her the ancient techniques in the bottom of the sea. In the meantime, a fisherman named Mina caught a big fish. Unfortunately the fish was a whale and Mina was dragged overboard, falling into the mouth of the animal! The animal swallowed him and dived deep the bottom of the ocean.

At that very moment, Shiva was starting to teach his wife yoga and the goddess fell asleep. Shiva, realising that no one was listening to him, stopped. How could this happen, he wondered. Then suddenly he discovered that just a few metres away, someone (or rather something) was listening to him intently. It was a whale. Is it possible that a whale could be interested in Hatha-Yoga, he thought. He opened his third eye in the middle of his forehead, and he saw that there was a man in the belly of the whale. “Are you interested in what you have heard, sir?” asked Shiva. “I have never heard anything more interesting, Master,” the man replied. “I would gladly give my life to hear just a little bit more.” Shiva smiled. What devotion. This person is certainly fit to receive my teachings, he thought. And the great God taught Hatha-Yoga to Mina, a mere fisherman.

When Shiva finished, he said “You are no longer Mina, the fisherman. You are Matsyendra, mighty among men! The Sanskrit word ‘Matsya’ means ‘fish’ and the word ‘Indra’ means ‘Lord’. ‘Matsyendra’ is thus ‘Lord of the Fish’.

Here is a page from Tantric scholar David White’s wonderful The Alchemical Body, courtesy of Google Books:

It is easy to get out of bed at 3 to practice when you’re on your way to a beautiful studio which is heated throughout and you’re expecting a group of adorable, dedicated Ashtangis to trundle in at 6 to join you in your esoteric ways. Solidarity is a powerful motivator, and the warmth of additional heaters plus a few humidifiers keeps you raising the roof with prana. 

But there are many times when group practice in a lush, hot room is not possible. During these times, it is important to find a way to practice daily without making a spectacle of oneself. I’ve been lucky at Peter’s folks’ place here in Missouri, because they’re such lovely people I do feel very welcome. We have been given a room in the basement area which is private and there is a spacious enough room next to the basement bedrooms where I can roll out my mat and set to work. The major factor is getting warm enough to remove my socks.

This is the most boring post ever. Sorry.

Therein lies the crux- sometimes, practice is this way. In reality, actually, practice is like this most of the time for people who don’t have a shala and must conduct their daily efforts in the dry air of their lounge or bedroom, in solitude, in the cold, without a teacher, or any pals. Practice is like this when you’re visiting family or friends, or traveling. It ain’t glamourous, it is hardly ever comfortable, often embarrassing, and difficult to sustain. Its a lot like what I imagine people mean when they say “married sex.”

The first difficulty arises in trying to explain to family how important it is that I practice, every day, without coming off like a complete and utter douche. Then, the temperature and floor surface issues come into play, as well as the need for having 90 minutes of silence, please. I have been lucky enough that Peter’s family are very supportive and understanding, and we actually have the place to ourselves most of the day so I don’t have to explain myself. They even gave me a wee fan heater, the lovely Missourians.

So- this is still boring. But the important thing is that I’m practicing every day for 2 hours and not procrastinating too much in Kapotasana and getting a nice heel-hold every day. Peter is assisting me in Supta V, and the legs-behind-head are coming so nicely, expedited by the 10 sessions of Rolfing I underwent while in Boston, which one day I might write about. Yesterday I did the standing postures in the park, since it was such a nice sunny day.

Booorrrring.