Truly, Madly, Deeply

Two weeks.

Two solid weeks of practicing the same sequence over and over again.

Just two weeks, and my new ashtanga practice had me counting the hours to my first samasthitti of the day. A gob-smacking revelation for someone who has spent all four years of her practice avoiding Mr. Jois' cheoreography.

Seriously, I never thought I would connect so deeply with ashtanga. For years - and I confess this with deep humility - I always viewed it as an inferior practice, in that it focused solely on the body. Being brought up in the hatha way of life, I couldn't stomach that myopic vision. And being a Vata-type, the rigid sequence made me shudder. Two years ago, I took my first public ashtanga class with The Elder and it underlined my dislike for the style.

So why did I do an about-turn two months ago?

My home practice was flagging. I would dutifully turn up on my mat every evening and spend half my practice clawing through magazines and books for inspiration. By the time the hour was up, I felt that I hadn't even scratched the surface of a proper practice. I tried planning my sequence for the day or selecting one from Yoga Journal, but either it didn't fit with my mood or I lost interest half-way.

Ashtanga put a stop to all that. Despite my distaste for routines, I discovered that my body responded better when it knew exactly what was expected of it from the word 'Om'. (I later discovered that the sequence - although flowing - created a form of structure which was needed to keep my dosha in balance.) The ujjayi breathing kept my focus completely on my breath and body. And after watching John Scott's Primary Series DVD, I learnt the meaning of moving in powerful grace.

Each practice rewarded my body with an internal spring-clean. I would begin with my mind still filled with the day's events, but by the time I reached trikonasana, all that I was aware of was my Darth-Vader-breath and my body alignment. That inner quiet was soon followed by a wonderful sense of groundedness. In reaching savasana, I literally felt more alive. The beads of perspiration running down my spine and cooling on my skin, my muscles tingling and my breath softly bellowing a steady rhythm. The physical sensations pave an avenue for me to tap deeper into my mental and emotional sensations. And I have fallen in love with that feeling.

Ashtanga has also instilled a sense of discipline in me, that I once despaired I would never possess. For the first time in a long, long time, I have practiced every single day (bar the new moon, full moon and ladies' holiday). Even better, this disipline has also spilled over into my work life.

It has taken me four years to give ashtanga a chance, and even now I'm sharing only half of what I feel, because certain things have to be experienced to be understood.

But it has been and still is a struggle. I have had days when I'm almost in tears, when I am mad at Pattabhi Jois for making unreasonable demands on my body, when the movements are just too fast too furious...and I will share every single one of those struggles in this blog. Yet, like a repentant lover, I return to ashtanga the next day because I know that beneath its apparent brutality lies a benovelent soul. And also because I believe Pattabhi Jois when he says, "Practice and all will come."