Back on the yoga train

...That is the teaching yoga train. Choo choo!

It's been so difficult to concentrate lately, and I've not fully connected with my teaching for a couple of weeks now. Coincidently since I got back from the UK and acquired a four legged fluff ball ('powder puff' as the vet called him!) It's like my puppy has soaked up all my brain juice in that big fluffy cloud of a coat of his. But I'm feeling it coming back.

I taught three classes over the weekend and I'm right back into loving the teaching. Loving it.

Sometimes you've just gotta jump back into it to realise how much you enjoy it.

It was a back to back Saturday morning class to start with, which is 3 hours of non-stop teaching. It's pretty hardcore, mainly because you're so concentrated and focused and of course yakking, for a full three hours. I was pretty sick of the sound of my voice by the end, which was sounding ever-croakier by the minute. But in fact I felt so connected with what I was doing by the end of the class that I didn't really even notice.

Then last night I taught again. Just 10 students and they all knew the sequence really well so there was a great flow and energy in the room. I started the practice off with a sitting breathing practice, whcih I rarely do, but should do more often. Just listening to the breath and becoming aware. Then I got the students to consider an intention for their practice and to keep that throughout their practice.

I have no idea if they did that (though of course at the end of the class I reminded them to reflect on it) which was odd, because I still have no idea if they did. Yoga teaching can be so feedback-less. It's like you're setting people off on a journey to a completely unknown place, like a far, dark corner of the moon, and you've no idea where they're going or what they're experiencing. In fact it's all a bit like that, even when giving adjustments, you've still got little idea of how much they are enjoying it and how much they're being polite.

Anyway, I'm not concerned with these things. I'm just happy to be back teaching and getting some focus back. Without being too dramatic, (okay I'll be a little bit of a drama queen) but I felt as if I'd almost disappeared in a puff of.. err powder. But I'm hauling it back in now and feeling a little more happy.

A thought whilst my boy sleeps

Yep, I'm stealing a few blue squeaky ball-free moments to update you bloggy. Well, the invested hours appear to be paying off (a lesson in 'tapas' - dedication and commitment)

My protege is now:

1. Pretty much toilet trained. Aside from the occasional accident. Not sure if my neighbours are starting to find my high pitched 'go peeeeee! good boy' a little gratey yet? 
2. He sits
3. He gives his paw (actually he gives both paws, one after the other)
4. He comes
5. He brings
6. He drops (this is stretching the truth, he drops when he's given a treat and spontaneously one in five times, but it's a start)
7. He rolls over
8. I'll get it on video soon and then I promise I'll shut up about the dog.

I was writing a piece on the Qi blog about how dogs can teach us more than we know about yoga and my friend, who is staying with us at the moment reminded me of another aspect of this. I touched on stuff like how it makes us more present, and of course my example above of how he's teaching me to be patient and accept that 'all is coming' (thanks Pattabhi Jois - funny how relevant that foreign sounding phrase is these days).. but anyway my friend reminded me that sometimes when I feel anger and frustration with Conan (like now when he barked in my face, little monkey), after things have cooled down and he's frantically licking my face, like it's a tasty ice cream, I find him so easy to forgive. 

Why is it so hard to forgive and accept humans though. I mean I'm sure I'm not the worst person for this, but I do admit that there are times when I hold a mini-grudge with people who, ultimately don't mean it, they're just different. Like Conan, their minds are slightly differently attuned. 

Acceptance.

Thanks Conan, thanks Nads

Slippery fish: An outpouring on loss of perspective

All this stuff I'm meant to learn from my yoga just seems to slip away when I'm faced with real life challenges.

It's all well and good applying things in a nice, easy and controlled environment, but now I'm faced with a reality. In this instance I'm stuck inside when the sun is shining like it's been held hostage in dark cave and has now finally been released. It's beautiful out there. But in the name of good mothering I'm here, with my little Conan who is more restless than a toddler on Coke (Coca Cola... please!), with the attention span of a hyperactive goldfish.

And I'm questioning everything.

Was this puppy a good idea?

Can I cope with this new life?

I'm trying to live in the moment. I'm trying to enjoy the journey and find endless fascination in his every move whilst keeping a good degree of apathy and aloofness so he's not mollycoddled.

But it's consuming my every thought.

I need to get some perspective.

I was supposed to  teach my corporate class this morning (we usually meet on Wednesday mornings but they needed to change this week.) It was in my calendar but I'd forgotten to set an alert so i blissfully slept through this morning until I got a call at 8am from the girl there. It immediately dawned on me. Shit. "I'm so sorry, so so so sorry" a torrent of apologies and excuses poured forth. Of course she was fine about it, but it made me realise my head is firmly not in the moment at the moment.

I had forgotten about the importance of concentration. Right now my mind skates and slides around like a slippery fish between your fingers. I've lost all sense of perspective.

I know it's a bit of a downer this one. Hey, I find it hard to write when everything is blissfully happy, perhaps this blog is my release. Who knows.

Perhaps here is where i find my perspective.

I'd love to do some yoga right now. It's really been helping me lately to manage the chaos of thoughts and doubts.

It's all about the boy. But what about everything else....?

Enjoying the journey

I've always found it kind of annoying when people tell me to 'enjoy the journey' - it's like when people tell you to 'relax' or 'don't be shy'. It's easier said than done aye.

After the most perfect few days with my little monkey, Conan, I'm starting to feel my patience fray (or rather shred) like an old towel.

"Conan, down boy, get off the towel!"

I mean you read all these books, you speak to people in pet shops, vets, pet trainers and they tell you: if he's bad you ignore him or correct him with a simple 'ah ah' and then finally you confine him. If he's good you shower him with praise.

Yeah right.

This would be a typical 1 minute in the life of.

I'm sitting at the computer in the kitchen. Conan comes staight over and sits on my feet, all big puppy dog eyes. "Good boy" i say... then, excitement mounting he attempts to jump up "uh uh" i say, and down he gets: "Good boy." I walk to the fridge, he's tags my ankles as I walk then he's is in the fridge with me. "uh uh". no response. "Uh uh" I say again. Still no response "Uh..." and he walks away. "Good boy" I say then he starts to crouch slightly as if about to pee "Uh!" I say louder and usher him outside leading him to his toilet pad. Nothing doing. Then he's chewing the plant outside. "Uh uh" nothing. I throw a ball around. He chases it. "Good boy."  I ask him to come. He runs the ball inside, chasing past my legs and into the lounge, just as I get there he's chewing the rug. "UH UH" nothing. I decide to ignore him and go back to the kitchen. He follows after me. I say 'sit' he sits. Good boy I stroke him and get him excited, he's licking my face. I'm back at the computer, he runs towards the lounge again. I try to stop him by shutting the door. His head is almost jammed (though of course it's not) "uh uh" - no response.

Okay, that's probably the minute up.

Thank goodness for these pizzles (pig's penises) he writhes in an aphrodisiac fuelled ecstasy. Rolling on his side, his back, covering himself with the scent of the pizzle - who knows what these things contain,  but they sure do work... Long enough for me to write this post.

It's so much fun. But it's also so tiring. I feel he's learning more and more, as I am, by the day; but the more he absorbs of this new life, the more he learns how to work me out. I need infinite patience; i need to learn to marvel at the minutiae. We made some progress today. 2 x pees outside. This is good. I need to remember to enjoy the journey as he is.

A rare moment of calm

Pup psychology...training dilemmas

I'm back!

I've taken a half hour 'separation anxiety' timeout from Conan. Apparently because I'm around the house a lot there's a chance he'll get anxious and cause havoc if ever I go out so you've gotta get them used to it by putting them in a room on their own (or a crate) and letting their whimper, howl, whine, scream wash over you. Never has the phrase 'you've got to be cruel to be kind' resonated so much! I've stuffed my tired brain with all sorts of dog psychology and concluded that, err.... I don't know.

So, the first few days with Conan....

Conan. Conan, meaning 'little wolf' in Irish.

It's taken a long time to get to the name Conan. We've been through the lot: Roy (hubby's fave, but not mine - i mean, can I really shout 'Roy' across the park? This handsome fella deserves better....) Then there was a 24 hour Lupo experiment ( Lupo means wolf in Italian) but somehow it felt wrong and forced. Paco (liked the Spanish name vibe) but never took. And Larry, named after Larry David, but again not sure, the boys liked it, but they also liked Roy. So finally we settled on Conan, which was the name given to us by the breeder. It's not that we've been unoriginal but out little man is so true to his name, strong, handsome, howly. I mean he doesn't look like a little wolf here - he looks like a teddy bear but that's the thing I'm realising about puppies, they're irresistible and that's what makes them so "down dog" difficult to train.

Conan, our 9 old week Border Collie - to pick up or not to pick up?

There appears to be two schools of thought:

1. The crate them and isolate them, eat your dinner first and assert yourself as pack leader but praise them well when they've done something good school of pup psychology

2. The love them to bits and cuddle them lots school of pup psychology (which is also what the breeder told us), and which I'm doing lots... (as per the picture)

....Until I met a friend of a friend last night who told me, "you can't pick up a puppy - it'll send the wrong message, you're elevating his status." Obviously this friend of friend subscribed to school of hard knocks number 1.

It's all a bit confusing to be honest. I'm trying a bit of both at the moment, so he's been separated, he's calmed down. It's working. There's quiet in the house.

But BCs are very sensitive and apparently if you don't make then feel reassured they'll develop anxiety as well.. But then if you let them rule the roost they'll also

I'll keep you posted.

Never have I been more present. This is real yoga.

If you've got any advice for me, as a new and loving mum to a beautiful pup, please feel free!

When you've run out of things to Google....

I was on the ferry on the way back from one of the corporate yoga classes I teach in the city and had 30 minutes to kill. They’ve recently introduced free WiFi on the Manly ferries so I thought I’d take advantage and waste some time Googling randomly on my iPhone. One slight problem… 

I had nothing I wanted to Google.

This was a very rare and depressing moment, as if I'd reached the end of ambition; no ideas, no projects, no interest in world affairs, nothing... though I remember it happening once before in one of my more idol office jobs. What shall I Google today, I used to think on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday Thurs… ?

In the end I just checked the Guardian, wrote a couple of emails and, well, it was fine; I filled the 30 minute journey. On the way back home I stopped off in my new favourite Manly café (Cartel on Belgrave) for a fruit salad and a cheer up from the cheery folks there and as I sat down, there was Australian Vogue magazine literally beckoning me with one of its headline articles: ‘Losing your ambition?’ it wrote… ‘You’re not alone.’

That’s right I thought, and in the peculiar way that magazines, newspapers and blogs etc. appear to correctly identify lumps, bumps and great tidal shifts in your thought state, let’s call them thought-fashions, (or do they create them…I ask?) to the point that you can barely recognise who is in fact The Creator of this particular trend. I mean, I thought I invented the skinny jean/the movement towards social media etc. Is this making sense?

Basically me and this magazine article, we were on the same page. So, what did they blame the loss of female ambition on?

1.  The Internet – too much time to Google. Without the World Wide Web we’d still be cleaning the house on a Saturday morning (along with our men, we’re talking empowered cleaning here); wearing dynamic suits, just the right side of sexy professional; and going ‘above and beyond’ in our jobs.
2. Children – this is fairly obvious, but interesting that one sprightly graduate who they interviewed (hands still sticky from holding her hot new degree in Business and Economics) described herself as ‘human capital’ – I love that phrase; so excessively, lavishly… self-assured. Whatever happened to shameless confidence in our abilities, ladies? Needless to say other the group of graduates who were mums were generally a much more ‘realistic’ (depressing) bunch. Although I’d hazard it’s not the kids’ fault, I think it’s age that knocks the stuffing out of us.
3. Drifting: Not being able to articulate/discover the ambition.

Without wishing to get too feminist, I must say this third one resonated a little too hard. Ouch.  One of the ladies interviewed (writer for New York Times, so she’s doing alright by the way) described herself as always vaguely knowing she would be good at something but not able to work out what, which left her hating pretty much everyone (because they're potential competition of course) but also vulnerable, as she was simply being tossed along, thrown in every direction. 

Do men feel like this as much? Statistics show that women come out of the education system with better class degrees than men, showing bountiful promise in the workplace, wearing their smart clothes and their ‘can do’ attitudes. Then, a few years down the line you find them like flotsam, (“goods that are floating in the water without having been thrown in deliberately” - thanks Wikipedia) with no real purpose, thinking ‘I’ll just bob around here until someone gives me some’. They say to be truly happy you need to be following your purpose. Trouble is I kind of think I am following it but then I don’t really know what it is.

When you feel connected to your ambition it’s like you’re soaring; you feel connected to life, the people around you (rather than hating them in a pathetically vulnerable kind of way... hmm) and filled with this glow of promise. What’s stopping us from feeling like this?

I’ve decided I’m going to try and write a book. There, I said it. I’ve ‘articulated it’.

Just gonna practice some yoga, finish some jobs off and then… my first chapter awaits me. Yikes!

Resisting something

It's been a really shitty few days to say the least and so what did I do to make myself feel better? In true SATC style, I went shopping. Oh yes chick lit lovers, I checked myself in for some retail therapy. It's actually been the first time since my new life started that I've done a proper good old, completely unnecessarily frivolous expenditure and it's quite exhilarating actually. I'm waiting for the guilt, the cavernous emptiness, the creeping dissatisfaction and the mental retribution to hit me. But all this self flagellation isn't healthy. So what if I just spent $385 on a dress for a wedding; after spending $900 on removalists, $520 on cleaning the house, $150 on getting a small portion of the carpet relayed (including chopping a sizeable chunk out of the cupboard in the spare bedroom - it was like an episode of ER man seriously, life saving decisions had to be taken) and countless other house expenses, maybe I deserved a little black number to make me feel sexy. My shoulders are hunched up to my ears, I can't relax or sleep in this new place yet and I've STILL got no goddam fridge or washing machine and I'm freezing cold and I'm worried that when/if we get a dog that I won't be able to look after it, discipline it and be kind towards it,  and how are we going to fence in the garden and.... blah blah blah the list goes on. Basically I'm a bag of worried little bones rattling around and I'm being honest with you here because I can be. I could tell you, I'm just loving my new house, best decision we've ever made. Oh it's so nice to be out of the hustle and bustle of Manly but so far it sucks.

Yoga helped this morning. Thank you yoga. Rather than teaching my private class I practiced up at Yoga Moves again. We got there a little late so were sardined into a corner at the edge of the studio but actually that was fine (somehow I managed to overcome the pattern of behaviour that I need to have a good spot in the room) and I got into the flow quite nicely in spite of my numerous injuries (so different from Friday's experience). So after savasana it was like I'd wiped my dark and smudgy windows clean, and all was shiny and new again. Ahhh, and breathe.

But then, back to reality again and I hurled myself into the city to teach a corporate class at 8am and then off to Circular Quay to catch the ferry back to Manly so I could go back to the old house to pick up any tell-tale residual bits of carpet before the real estate agent came round (he'd called on the ferry to let me know the new tenants were going in to measure the rooms). Naturally I got there whilst they were there so who knows what they saw of the carpet shards. Should I have told the truth? Who knows, I object to the real estate agent (most likely, although this is surely a samskara of sorts) wanting to take our full deposit to replace an entire already worn carpet, so I needed to take some action but it feels like things are escalating out of control.

In the North Sydney Yoga Studio's August newsletter Angelika wrote an interesting article on the concept of resistance which resonated with me. She explains how we put up barriers in the path of our development:

"When life appears to be running smoothly, and everything is in it’s place, one can easily feel threatened when suggestions are made to do something differently. Sometimes change or even just the suggestion of change can bring up resistance in us. What if this change will make our situation worse? Even minor changes may cause us to lose our hard earned equilibrium!"


I can't help but feel there's some resistance going on with me at the moment. Like everything in yoga, you can draw from your experiences on a gross (physical) level to appreciate what's happening on a more subtle level - my injuries are starting to read like an ever increasing menu at Hypochondria Cafe. But they're real. Or at least they feel real but maybe they're the 'rocks' I'm putting in the path of letting go of some control. Here she writes:


"As soon as someone’s Yoga practice comes along well, and I can sense that the student is just about to rise to the next level of their practice, for some inexplicable reason (some sort of resistance maybe?) they can’t make it to class, or they get sick or injure themselves. All sorts of obstacles mysteriously appear that prevent them from evolving and taking that next step forward, thus paradoxically preventing their own progress. The mind is fearful of losing its power, so throws a few rocks in the way!"


 I'm not sure. All i know is that something is happening here and I don't fully understand it. I'm out of balance and there doesn't appear to be a nice little gift wrapped box of pop yoga philosophy to help me out here. Maybe I just need to keep on going. Regular and consistent practice. 


Oh who knows.


This post feels kind of floaty and amorphous, in fact it's a mess, but that's kind of how I'm feeling. Sorry all you avid readers, that's just how I'm feeling.