Bali in 00

Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: Hong Kong International Airport

After dangling over the Pacific Ocean for 18 hours I'm at the Hong Kong International Airport. It's somewhere around 5 am but I can't tell for sure. I have no sense of time. I've been saturated in airplane food and airplane T.V, airplane legroom with an airplane recline. I've got airplane bloodshot eyes. I'm ready for a new diet. In just under four hours I will be on board my last flight, nonchalantly crossing the equator and landing in Denpasar, Bali. After that I'll be on my way to Ubud, my home for the next stretch of time-space. As usual, I don't know what awaits me or what to expect. The difference is that I think I'm finally getting used to it. Nothing is predictable, no matter how hard we try. Life will never cease to be an adventure. It will always be a blind leap of faith. I think I'm finally ready to accept that. My heart and mind are open. Whatever comes my way will be greeted like an old friend, a cherished relative. I'm ready to live. I'm finished sleeping. In total acceptance I feel total appreciation. Right now, everything I've ever known and everyone I've ever loved are behind me. I find myself holding on to them with every ounce of love, strength and compassion I have. I can feel their belief in me and I have faith that it will carry me safely wherever I go. Sitting alone at the 49th gate of departures it's like my whole life is flashing through my mind. The airport looks deserted. There isn't another soul as far as the eye can see. No passengers, no employees. As I watch the sun rise through the massive windows, fire glinting across the parked airplanes motionless out on the concrete runway, an idea suddenly occurs to me. Before the thought has a chance to be reconsidered I'm flowing through sun salutations in the ghost-town airport, an improptu but refreshing personal practice that's taking on a life of its own. I'm breathing deeply. I'm equal parts scared, excited, homesick and prepared. Shaken not stirred. Standing on my head on the other side of the world below the equator, I know I'll feel upright in the Universe.

Bali in 01

Style: Power
Teacher: Lucy Castell
Studio: Rama Lotus

Today was my last yoga class. All morning I've been halfway between laughing and bursting into tears. Making an attempt to dodge my fluxuating emotions I'm in the Hot room at Rama Lotus, hoping for a third-degree burn. I'm standing at the end of a long adventure but also at the edge of a new one. I have no thoughts. I can only feel. Right now I feel the whole spectrum. I feel a tragic bliss, an ecstatic misery. I feel heavy, suffocated by the burden of gravity but I feel light, like I might float gracefully off the ground any second. Endings are always inseparably bound to new beginnings. They are tightly woven, one melting into the other. Death is followed by rebirth. When one chapter ends, a new one begins. Fade to black. Today I'm at the apex of the pyramid, the split second of suspension between the rise and the fall, the climb and the descent. The journey has come to an end and the journey has only just begun. It's the excitement of a new direction in an intimate embrace with the heartbreak of departure. The mixture of emotion creates a wild chemical reaction. The layers of feeling are subtle and complex, poetic, romantic and nearly impossible to describe. I think this is how it feels to be fully alive. I'll never know what the future holds. I don't even know if I'll put pen to page again in my life, if I'll blog or share my thoughts with the world. Nothing is for certain. I can't be sure that I'll ever return or if I'll even survive the trip. There are no guarantees. Soon I'll be leaving my world behind. Will it still be waiting for me when I get back? Will I be able to recognize it?

Bali in 02

Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: None

I taught my first yoga class. I'll admit, it wasn't exactly the endless mat-to-mat army of yogis that Baron taught back in Austin. The atmosphere was quaint and intimate, safe and supportive, consisting of Shawna and my two sisters, Annie and Maria. Despite the mood being comfortable and free of expectation I still somehow managed to cultivate a stage fright that had me closing in on nervous wreck. I argued with myself, fought with the logistics of the sequence, fretted over my ability to emote and project my voice, to clearly articulate and enunciate. As my two lovely sisters arrived I was still second guessing myself, altering and modifying the sequence, scratching out this pose, replacing it with that one. Do back bends follow forward bends? Don't they? What's that rule of thumb again? A twist might work here... Do I have too many standing postures? Enough balancing positions? Hip-openers? Does this make sense here? Does that serve a purpose? Have I covered all bases? As the three mats were rolled out in front of me and a silence descended on the room, eventually I had to surrender and bite the bullet, to swallow my nit-picking perfectionism and replace it with pseudo confidence and self-assurance.

Surviving a resounding Om with minimal residual awkward energy, the process is suddenly in motion. My class is off to a start and instantly I'm drawing a blank. What's a sun salutation again? Is that an inhale or an exhale? Soon I'm stumbling over my own words, stuttering and sputtering, trying to explain simple procedures in a way the three people in front of me can understand. This is definitely more complex then I'd anticipated. How do these yoga teachers make it look so easy, so effortless?

As I guide the three students further into the series of sun salutations I begin to subdue the nervous waver in my voice and pretty soon I've done what I can to stabilize my senses. I swallow my emotions without choking on them and struggle to bring my focus back to my sequence as I glance down at my notes. I'm guiding the yogis through the motions, watching them listen to my instructions and display my words. It's both thrilling and terrifying. As the choreography progresses, I find myself fascinated by the mental spasms and glitches I'm experiencing. My internal dialogue wonders if the students are enjoying themselves, if they're noticing my mistakes or if they're patiently waiting for everything to end. The serene, blank gazes on their faces are unreadable. Are they in a state of deep meditation or sublime boredom? Playing with the choreographed asanas, we move through warrior sequences, triangles, side-angles with binds, reverse triangles and prayer folds. I'm narrating dragons and locusts, pigeons and downward dogs, camels and eagles - almost the entire animal kingdom is present and accounted for.

Eventually I'm forming like Megazord, drawing inspiration from the colorful cast of characters I've been studying with for the past 6 months. I'm amputating Todd's calm demeanour, Ichih's motivational spirit, Mark's smooth delivery, Louise's wit and humour, Mike's ability to stay grounded and chilled-out. I'm melting down Baron Baptiste and Brian Kest, liquefying then fusing them together. I'm trying to organize an assortment of breath ques, posture descriptions, different variations and modifications. I'm a mad scientist attaching limbs and appendages, ligaments and tendons, creating a Frankenstein of blended yoga inspiration and influence. Soon my creation is breathing on its own and standing up, lumbering clumsily across the room with outstretched arms and a dead, blank expression on its face. It's alive.

Before I know it I'm looking at three corpses on the floor in front of me and the dizzying whirlwind has come to final relaxation at last. Gently beckoning my three friends out of savasana and into a comfortable seated position, I welcome them back to the world of the living. I shower them with sincere gratitude for accompanying me on this expedition, my first time behind the wheel as I drove recklessly and precariously, ignoring all roadsigns and stoplights. I want this. I really do. I'm going to submerge myself completely, to dedicate myself with everything I have, the entirety of my being. I'm devoted to doing this properly. I want to become a quality teacher. I don't know how I'm going to pull it off, but I plan on absorbing as much as I can in the jungles of Bali. In the distant future I want my classes to contain something special. I want to create a transcendent experience. I want to share my soul, to give back to the world even a small portion of the magic that's been growing within me since my adventure began. I want to leave a lasting impression. The question remains: How? At this point, only time will tell.

Bali in 03

Style: Yin
Teacher: Louise Sattler
Studio: Rama Lotus

I'm having nightmares in a Yin class. My fate is flashing before my very eyes. It won't be long now until I'm confronting death. It's Todd's birthday and he doesn't know it yet, but soon we'll be bungee jumping off the highest peak in Canada. Shawna has orchestrated an adrenaline-drenched birthday surprise and I'm going along for the ride. Right now as I'm melting in a lethargic, reconstructive Yin class, I feel far removed from my destiny. I'm too cozy to be faced with my own mortality.

The world is stretched out infinitely in all directions. The face of the cliff drops off, revealing a 200-foot plunge down to the blue quarry below. As I walk the metal plank like a death-sentenced prisoner, snug in my harness, my yoga challenge flashes before my eyes. I got into this looking for some exercise and it turned into an intricate adventure literally taking me to the other side of the planet. Sparse flakes of snow drift through the air and the high altitude is chilling me to the bone. I can't think of a more appropriate way to symbolize a leap of faith then diving head-first off a cliff with an elastic tied to my ankles.

An eerie calm is taking over. No thoughts cross my mind. Forcefully entering a state of deep meditation, I watch as I put one foot in front of the other until the tips of my shoes are resting over the edge. Moments later I hear a voice begin a countdown but it seems to be coming from far away, like I'm deep under water, looking up through distorted glass. Suddenly I'm Siddhartha Gautama teetering on the edge of a dramatic suicide and a pure Zen silence clears my consciousness. A few lifetimes pass and the countdown reaches zero. I feel my knees bend and my hands release their white-knuckle grip on the metal bars. I'm airborne. A few seconds of free-fall is an infinity. I feel my jaw clench and a blood-curdling scream gets caught in my throat. The edges of my vision get frayed and blurred as I enter hyperspace. A split second occurs where my mind can't compute what it's seeing. It can't accept reality and I feel it flicker out. Fully abandoned, I become pure perception, unobstructed observation. Soon I feel the cord make its presence known and my descent slows its pace. As my fingertips seem to graze the still surface of the water the cable reaches its limit and reverses its flow. In an instant of delicate whiplash I'm back up in the air, convinced I can fly. Suddenly the harness and rope seem like overkill. I feel like I could slip out of the equipment and remain floating in stasis, hovering in the middle of the sky. Free from the protective confines, I would take my flight up deliriously higher, deeper into the vast blue expanse. I would sail high above the treetops, far away from our manufactured civilization. Reaching for such great heights, the world down below would no longer seem real. It would appear as it truly is. Maya. Illusion. The concrete tumors and metal skin rashes would take on a natural appearance, the impact we've made seemingly erased once and for all. I would sail our friendly skies for a while, wind in my hair as the sun washes over my skin. I would circle the Earth, seeing with my own two eyes all the places I've never been. I'd investigate our home, observing the human condition from a safe distance.

I'd seek out masters all over the world. I would study with sages and sadhus, gurus and rishis, the great pinnacles of consciousness. I would study the ancient secrets and texts, learn the truth of our history and genetic ancestry, the meaning of life and our place in the cosmos. I'd travel the globe on a quest of learning that would easily last five-hundred years. Soon I would seek out teachers from distant galaxies, enroll in off-planet mystery schools to explore the nature of our Universe. I would figure out the specifics of interstellar travel and instantaneous teleportation. I'd learn true physics and unravel the mysteries of the quantum world. I would study in alternate dimensions and parallel realities. I would try to understand the nature of time and my relationship with it. Thousands of years from now I'd arrive at a place in my own pilgrimage of discovery where I could turn around and come back home to share what I'd learned with the planet of my birth. I would speak of where I'd been and what I'd seen. After I'd expressed everything I had to say I would reach out to the distant stars once again. One more time I would head out into the unknown, only this time with no intention of ever returning. This time I would never turn back. Eventually Earth would become a half-remembered dream, a hazy abstract splash of color in my recollection.

Will I still be who I am now when my days on Earth are over? Will I recognize those I've loved when we meet again? Will the fragile moments of my life be scattered and lost? Will I disappear without a trace, come and gone with no indelible mark left, dissolved and evaporated into the endless sea of eternity?

Bali in 04

Style: None
Teacher: None
Studio: None

Today was an unintentional day of rest. The intention to practice was there, but somehow the day seemed to dance and pirouette away from me. I never managed to touch down and settle into a practice. My mat stayed rolled up and neglected, but in the back of my mind I know it was on purpose. I'm floating in the space between words, the silence between musical notes. Time is at a standstill. I'm in the subtle pause between exhale and inhale. There's a crystallized stillness in the air. I'm hovering silently between yesterday and tomorrow. The unfolding of the afternoon contains a quiet beauty and I'm absorbing it as fully as possible, coveting my last few days at home. Soon life as I know it will change dramatically and I'm clinging to all semblance of familiarity. I haven't left yet, but I'm feeling pangs of homesickness with every premature goodbye.

Bali in 05

Style: Vinyasa Inversions
Teacher: Todd Lavictoire
Studio: Upward Dog


Chances are that I wont have a flawless handstand before I leave the country. I'm cool with that. My hang-time is increasing exponentially and every inch of new territory feels like an incredible success. The more fun I have with my progress, the faster my progress seems to occur. I'm basking in the sensation of palming the planet and holding it up in the air, feeling like I could make a jump shot for a game-winning 3-pointer. I'm casually shooting hoops in the solar system. And 1.

Tonight is the last inversion class I'll be at before I leave and I already miss it. There's something special about this Thursday night event. There's a sense of community, a gathering of friends that I've rarely come across in the yoga scene. There's something nice about familiar faces. I'm getting closer to ground zero and I'm feeling intensifying mixed emotions. As usual, getting lost in a series of inversions is the best form of distraction I have. On second thought, that's not altogether true. While it does give my mind and body something to focus on, it's not like I'm ignoring what I'm going through. More accurately, when I occupy myself with a challenge it gives rise to the perfect platform for reflection. While inverting my reality I'm able to calmly and impersonally observe my experience. I can really listen to the way I feel without getting carried away by it. I'm able to consider my life from a safe distance, to analyze myself without overly dissecting. In other words, the sharpened blade of my scalpel is held with a steady hand. I'm carefully making incisions and studying anatomy without a life threatening loss of blood. Just hold still, this wont hurt a bit.

Bali in 06

Style: Ashtanga
Teacher: Matthew MacKenzie
Studio: Prana Shanti

In the heat, as beads of sweat build up and trickle down my my body, I have visions of a Balinese sun. It beats down from high overhead. I'm in the jungle. I hear an orchestra of insects harmonizing with a symphony of tropical birds. The lush plant life surrounds me in this exotic paradise. My mat is stretched out in a clearing and I'm dancing through the physics of tradition. Suddenly I sense eyes watching me from the edge of the forest, camouflaged in the foliage. Squinting against the blinding sunshine, my eyes meet with the eyes of a massive crouching tiger. It can tell I've noticed it and it hunches down in the tall grass, lying in wait. Before I have a chance to turn and run for my life, it leaps out of its hiding place and races at me, letting out a ferocious growl. It bears down on me and leaps into the air, claws extended, white teeth flashing in the sun. I feel its body crash into me, tearing my skin and pinning me to the ground. I can feel her teeth sink in as her full weight rests on top of me. I can't move. As my blood begins to flow and form a puddle around me, staining the grass in vibrant red, I struggle and writhe for an escape. It's impossible. Her powerful jaws pull the flesh from my bones and I submit to my fate. My heart continues to pound as I'm violently torn limb from limb, my consciousness refusing to flicker out and spare me from this horror movie. Soon her cubs make their appearance. They close in around their mother, inspecting their newly captured meal. I hear them sniffing and grunting, hungrily scratching new wounds on the canvas of my body. Like psychopathic tattoo artists they redesign my appearance. I can feel the heat from their breath as they begin to feed, their hot tongues as they lap up the flowing blood. The family of tigers rest in a circle around me, enjoying a lazy afternoon snack under the jungle canopy, concealing any evidence of my murder. The contents of my stomach are revealed, my organs strewn out around me, shredded beyond recognition. All I can do is watch helplessly as I'm eaten alive. I feel no pain but I wonder why I haven't died yet. I'm absolutely alive and forced to watch. Now and then my eyes lock with the eyes of the giant cat, her feral feline stare piercing my soul. I sense mild compassion trumped by indifference. The show must go on, the circle of life unstoppably continues its spiral.

My mind is not focused on this yoga class. I'm not quite halfway around the world yet but I'm not here either. I'm lost in a hallucination. Will I be devoured by my dream? All the things I've been working on, will they be my final demise? Will the end I've been working towards eventually break me? Will I be massacred by my own creations?

Bali in 07

Style: Power Xpress
Teacher: Natalie Holst
Studio: Rama Lotus

Not long ago, when the city was still coated in a sheet of ice with snowflakes gracefully hanging in the balance as I trudged through a dark winter wonderland, 6:30 am yoga was an alternate reality. Stepping out into the balmy morning blanketed in a gentle mist, the sun is already sneaking over the horizon and welcoming me to practice. The north wind has withdrawn its siege on the landscape. Entering the chamber of fire known as the Hot room, I unroll my mat and mentally prepare myself for an hour of Power yoga in the sweltering heat.

This class is known as Power Express. Although it's only an hour long, it contains no rest or repose. It hits the ground running and doesn't wait for you to catch up. There's nothing like getting your ass kicked first thing in the morning.

In my mind there always tends to be a comparison between Power yoga and Ashtanga. They're both very similar but have their own unique genetics, something like distant cousins. I love them both like family. Depending how you look at it, they're both incomplete or they compliment each other nicely. A criticism of Power could be that it doesn't always focus on preparing the body for full lotus like Ashtanga, but it will get you looking like Schwarzenegger in '81. In turn, Ashtanga could be charged with with moving too fast. Like a hyperactive teen with attention deficit disorder, five breaths is a relatively short amount of time to settle into a pose and extract all the benefits.

Like close friends with their lovable flaws, the stance I'll take is one of openness and acceptance. I'm not interested in a debate. I'm at the playground and I'm trying to organize a game of hide & seek or hopscotch, not get lost in redundant semantics. Soon the battle with Power Express is won and I'm back outside in the warm morning sunshine, ready for the day to reveal itself.

Bali in 08

Style: None
Teacher: None
Studio: None

Tying up loose ends. Today I'm trying to clear my karmic history, to be forgiven of my sins and born again. It's a day to pay parking tickets and cell phone bills. It's a time for securing an extended Indonesian travel visa, for booking hotels and coordinating itineraries. It's a moment to finally fix my left rear turning signal and get an oil change, an occasion for laundry and organization. Finances by candle light, phone dates with Revenue Canada over tea. On bended knee I repay my dept to society. Now that my paperwork is taken care of I am invited back into the fold, once again part of the tribe, the brotherhood of Man. Finally I am cleansed of my past and granted immunity, a free and respected citizen. I am a number and I am acquiescent. I am a sovereign nation, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part.

Even on my day off the mat I still find myself flipping up on my hands or going into a headstand spontaneously on my lawn. It's a general increase in playing and moving around in my body, enjoying mobility and flexibility, balance and strength. The approach of summer brings a rambunctious energy and a longing to get outside. The future is uncertain but my foundation is solid. My breath has become my direct connection to well being and I'm having fun with it. Now more than ever I find it absolutely exhilarating to be human. I'm alive.

Bali in 09

Style: Teacher Training
Teachers: Mark Laham, Louise Sattler, Todd Lavictoire
Studio: Greco

Today is my last with my group of yoga teachers-in-training. My trip to Bali unfortunately overlaps the last weekend of the 80-hour teacher training segment. I feel like I've grown with these students and three teachers. I've been influenced by their insights and shared contemplation, their humor and confidence. Goodbyes are always hard. My experience with Mark, Louise and Todd has been amazing. These teachers come from three completely different angles, three totally unique perspectives on yoga, but all three visions come together cohesively and create a superb learning experience. Until our paths cross again I wish those amazing people the best life has to offer. I'm incredibly grateful for the in-depth training I've received. The attention to detail has been exceptional and I couldn't have asked for more. I have no doubt that their training program will only improve over time.

My bitter-sweet last day began with various pranayama techniques. Breathing is said to be the single most important aspect of yoga and that point is reiterated over and over again. We started with Kapalabhati breathing. Also known as skull shining or the breath of fire, Kapalabhati is a technique used specifically for cleansing. This style is deliberately fast and focused on the abdomen. The breath is short, rapid and strong, working to eliminate carbon dioxide gas. Intake of fresh oxygen enriches the blood and renews the body tissues. On top of that, the constant up and down movements of the diaphragm stimulates the stomach, liver and pancreas. The next technique we learned is called Bhastrika breathing, or the bellows breath. Referring to it as "yoga-coffee", Todd explained how this breath wakes up and energizes the body, supersaturating it with oxygen. Caution should be used when experimenting with Bhastrika. Forced breathing can induce relaxation and revitalization, but could induce dizziness, drowsiness and loss of consciousness if practiced improperly or in excess. It's essentially a controlled hyperventilation. After an initial head rush and slight side-stitch, a sparkling clarity arose, focused on my face and head. As I settled into deep breathing with a mantra I felt anchored to the moment. The final technique we worked on is known as Nadi Shodhana or Anulom Vilom. Described as a balancing breath, this technique is the alternate nostril breathing first introduced to me at the Sivananda Ashram. The lingering effects of this practice are serenity, a calm, an entrance to a quiet void. After the breathing patterns I feel myself secure and attached to the present, utterly grounded. Later with Louise we studied the anatomy and dynamics of breathing, providing a western view of the ancient techniques. This perspective complimented and extended her teachings from yesterday when we looked deeper into the human anatomy. We explored in detail the hips, knees, ankles and feet in yoga. I have to admit, anatomy slightly freaks me out. As much as it intrigues me, I find it kind of shocking to see the blatant mechanics of the body. It really is a machine. Studying the way the joints and ligaments function and interact, the way the skeletal structures come together and the precarious placement of the bones, I can't help but realize the intricacy of our bodies. It's fragile yet magnificent, brittle but capable of such astounding physical feats. To wrap things up, we studied different techniques of Thai massage. Working with partners, we practiced making adjustments and alignments. According to Louise, the study of Thai massage is important, if not essential to becoming a quality yoga teacher. It teaches how to touch people, to make posture modifications as safely as possible.

The last day of my training couldn't have come to a better end. Taking our yoga mats out to a nearby park, we practiced Yin outside under the comforting rays of the sun. The ecstasy of outdoor yoga is hard to describe and probably harder to understand by the uninitiated. Today was a stark contrast with the solitude of Friday's sunrise yoga. With tulips in full bloom, a steady stream of pedestrians flowed by as we practiced on the grass. The subtle elements of voyeurism soon disappeared as I was overcome by the simple pleasure of the wind on my skin. I'm ready.

Bali in 10

Style: Teacher Training
Teachers: Mark Laham, Louise Sattler, Todd Lavictoire
Studio: Greco

Thoughts create. Like attracts like. That which is like is unto itself drawn. The human brain is a transmitter and a receiver. What you are focused on most of the time is what you draw into your life experience.

What if your mind creates the world around you? Are you aware of your thoughts? Is there any precision to your thinking, or are you firing random thought-forms out in every direction? Are you the master of your mind or are you its slave? What are you paying attention to? What is your focus? Where is your Drishti?

If the contents of your mind determine your external experience, than might there be greater benefits to meditation than initially meets the eye? If your thoughts are physical and they manufacture your life, it might be in your best interest to guide your focus to settle on thought patterns and visualizations that feel good. Thoughts are real, tangible, measurable quantum particles in the air, a frequency you sent out. Without intention we tend to stray with no meaning or direction. With it, all the forces of the Universe can align to make the seemingly impossible, possible. The trick is to know what you want. Most people spend most of their time and energy focusing on what they don't want and don't like. Humans usually get caught up beating the drum of negativity, never using their preferences to narrow down their perfect life experience. With that said, sometimes figuring out what you don't want helps to specify what you do want. It's a fine line of separation with an overlap of borders, but after all, aren't most things in life? The power of belief is real and beliefs will get challenged.

A working definition of intention is to have in mind a purpose or plan, to direct the mind, to aim. The real challenge is to know what you want. So, what do I want? It's a tough question. If my thoughts and emotions design the world around me, what am I feeling on a regular basis? What are my overriding thoughts? Well, sometimes I feel overwhelmed, uncertain and indecisive. I feel lack, I feel unstable and incapable. I feel fear and I feel powerless. I know what I don't want. I don't want to be a slave to a schedule, to be a faker, to rely on anything or to be dependant on anyone. I don't want to be trapped or stuck in repetition, to ever stop learning. I'm scared of having no freedom. I'm on a perpetual search, although I don't know what I'm looking for or how to prepare.

All is not lost. There is hope. It's been said that in the creation of reality, one positive thought is more powerful than an army of negative thoughts. Thoughts consisting of love and hope move faster, have more agility, spread farther and out-maneuver anything else. Above and beyond the gloom and doom, there exists something else. Overall I feel hopeful, I feel excited and I feel prepared. I feel passionate, adventurous, open and free. I'm happy. I know I want the freedom to be spontaneous, to be real and authentic. I want to provide for myself and to be abundant. I want to travel. I want to learn forever, to embody freedom and to feel joy. And I will. And I do.

My consciousness has drawn my life experience into visible light. I expect the contents of my soul to display themselves in the world around me. I know that I'm waiting for myself in Bali and I can't wait for our reunion.

Bali in 11

Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: Planet Earth

The sun rose at 5:51 am. At twenty past five my alarm was accompanied by a single thought: "this seemed like a better idea last night." Dragging myself out of bed in the pre-morning darkness I can't help but wonder if this is what normal people do with their free time. Slipping into some warm socks and sweatpants, zipping up a hoodie and finally pulling a hat snug down over my ears, I realize I might never know. Shrugging it off, I quietly pack my yoga bag and step out under the full moon.

Unrolling my mat across the grass I slip out of my shoes and get comfortable in wide-knee child's pose. I'm at the bank of the Rideau river and the chilled bite of pre-sunrise surrounds my perimeter, nipping at my toes and finger tips. Soon I can sense the coming of first light and I move into a series of sun salutations. Flowing through the familiar motions like they're second nature, a warmth begins to rise from within, flowing through my nervous system. I can see miniature crystal balls of morning dew clinging to the blades of grass. The birds begin to come alive, singing praise to a new day. As the sun rises in the sky my heart rises in my chest and fills my body with new light. I'm alone, absolutely alone. As the light continues to make its presence known I watch it shimmering across the river. My consciousness is reflected back on its glassy, undisturbed surface, blending with the hues of pink and rose that splash across the sky. There are no clouds whatsoever, only a blue expanse without beginning or end. Beyond that, the stars are slowly being hidden behind the atmosphere. The fire in the sky rises in front of me and the moon hangs behind me, slowly downplaying its presence and falling into a hibernation. Right now, everything coexists peacefully. I feel like the only human on the planet, given the honor of watching the birth of a new day. Moving through the ancient choreography I orbit with the planets and stars while remaining grounded in the earth.

Sitting at the shoreline of the river I move into a meditation. With a mantra to honour my potential I breathe in prana as it emanates from the planet. I start with some kapalabhati breathing and settle into my sanctuary, when all of a sudden I notice something strange. A sense of humour is rising up inside me, coming from the very center of the earth herself. Eventually I feel my lips involuntarily curl into a smile as the soft morning breeze caresses my cheek. Suddenly it's all funny. For the past two weeks I've been chained to a feeling of dread, a hopeless feeling of utter powerlessness. Just like that the heavy burden is lifted, disappearing as suddenly as it arrived. In this space everything seems at ease, unified. The planet is relaxed, unconcerned with its fate. It's simply in love. That nurturing energy is making its way into my bloodstream and bringing me back to life. I'm lighter now. I feel like I might float off my mat and out over the water, drifting in the invisible air currents, up and away. From this vantage point, my earthly stresses seems so unfounded, so unnatural. All I can do is laugh. So I do. The sound of my own voice reverberates off the empty world around me and then I stretch out on my mat. Looking up at the endless beyond, my gaze wanders over the inside of the sky. I'm alive. It's beautiful.

I'm grounded and I'm growing roots. They dig deep into the earth, through the soil, branching out and multiplying. I feel a direct connection to this planet, my home at the moment. I wonder what I was thinking as I wandered the outskirts of the Milky Way. What was I feeling as I passed the outer planets, drawn by the warmth of the sun. I remember falling in love with this place when I saw it rising in the distance. Approaching the pale blue teardrop circled by a lonely moon I couldn't help but notice how vulnerable it looked in the ice-cold void of outer space. Circling a few times, I made my way through the cloud cover and settled somewhere in North America, ready to wake up. Soon I would have no memory of my travel, no recollection of where I came from or who I was. Soon I would have an earthling identity that I would come to recognize as myself. A self-imposed amnesia would wipe the slate clean, erasing any knowledge of the universe, of life in the constellations, past present and future. Soon I would be tethered to a linear timeline, operating in the third dimension. My body, composed of the soil itself, would feel the effects of age and gravity. I would have time to play, time to cry and time to laugh. I would feel. Guided by five senses I would interact with my earth family. Eventually the elements that came together to hold me in place would begin to disperse, returning back to the earth once again, reuniting with the whole. I'll give back my shell and thank it for carrying me. Maybe I'll design a new experience at that point, a new life on earth. Or maybe I would take to the wing, returning to wherever I came from.

Eventually civilization makes itself visible. Jet streams start to cut across the sky, leaving white gashes as the city picks up momentum. At first the traffic in the distance sounds like ocean waves, tranquil and serene, washing up on shore. Soon I can differentiate the sounds of sirens and metal, concrete and exhaust. Taking it as my final curtain call, I thank the world deeply and sincerely. I made it through my own darkness and I'm back out under my own sun. I feel prepared to take on whatever comes, with ease and a sense of humor. Life loves me and I love it back just as much. The difficulties I'm facing have been diminished. They've lost their position at the head of the table, replaced by a happiness as pure as the elements of life. It's all good.

Bali in 12

Style: Vinyasa Inversions
Teacher: Todd Lavictoire
Studio: Upward Dog

I'm back in the workshop. It's Thursday night and that can only mean one thing - Inversions. Tonight I feel amazing. The sun was out all day and I spent most of my time outside. The internal storm has been subsiding lately. I feel the dark clouds parting, the first few hints of summer warming my skin. I can feel an energy of rebirth in the air. The world is brand new, pristine. The frozen cleanse of winter has passed. I'm coming back to life.

In class I'm more comfortable. My adopted mission of a successful handstand is close to fruition. I'm almost there and I'm having fun. There is nowhere I would rather be than right here, right now. I'm happy, I'm warm. I'm narrowing down the details, honing in on my target. I want to stand upside down by the time I leave the continent.

Today we made further explorations into the world of the bandhas, focusing on the root, abdominal and throat locks. We also began practice of Agni Sara. These internal locks, binds and borderline belly dancing routines bring about the strangest internal sensations. It's new to me but I'm getting the hang of it. Described as a cleansing activity, Agni Sara is traditionally practiced daily. Old toxins are burned and purified, allowing for greater circulation and blood flow. Combining elements of pranayama with asana training is appealing to me and I feel myself unconsciously incorporating it. I find myself working in different breath patterns before or after my practice. Sometimes off the mat in daily life situations I've caught myself monitoring and controlling my breath. I am growingly aware of its effects on my mind and body, my mood and my disposition. It's simply something I can't ignore anymore. I intuitively feel that breathing holds some sort of key to the mystery, some form of innate secret, and it's right under my nose...

Bali in 13

Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: Rama Lotus

Racing across the living, breathing city I'm trying to get to Rama Lotus on time. Shawna and Todd are holding down the Sky room for a private session. The progression of a self-led practice is an interesting evolution, and with good friends it can be a thoroughly satisfying experience. I'm in my own personal universe but there's still that subtle sense of performance. It keeps the fire lit and propels the vinyasa. It keeps me utterly focused on my craft with the ability to freestyle. My borderline knee-injury from yesterday has dissipated into thin air and I'm ready to work. Arriving late, I unroll my mat quietly, settling into the world of my own creation. As soon as I'm engulfed in flames and breaking a sweat it's all about inversions yet again. Today I'm openly attempting handstands with no wall and the fear has migrated to a distant land. All I'm left with is a youthful excitement and an anticipation of success. I'm getting more precise in an inverse body, feeling stable with my toes pointed skyward. The pursuit of a handstand is a soothing distraction as my whirlwind life spins out of control. Everything is in transition. My entire reality is up in the air and I can't figure out how it's all going to pan out. I have no idea what will become of me, what my fate looks like or what the future holds for me. I'm not even sure who I'll be when the sun rises tomorrow. Right now I have a single goal and it's keeping me attached to the present. It's my solid ground, my focus. It's my drishti. I'm a predator in the grass and I'm stalking my prey. I'm closing in on the posture and I'm getting ready to pounce on it, claws drawn, teeth prepared to draw blood.

Bali in 14

Style: Ashtanga
Teacher: Michael Dynie
Studio: Rama Lotus

It's Tuesday night and an attempted return to normalcy. The best way I know how is a classic evening Ashtanga. I'm ready for a solid Vinyasa cleanse, a powerful, structured choreography to bring my feet back to solid ground. I welcome the traditional regime and discipline of the style.

As it happens, I somehow managed to smash my knee over the course of a busy day. Back at home later I realize it's not as bad as I'd thought, but it's still the closest thing to an injury I've had for the entire challenge. Ashtanga can be very knee-intensive so tonight I'll tread cautiously. I'll do my best to let my body be my guide and keep my ego out of the equation. If I'm not coping with the advanced variations I hope I can hold back and not worry about saving face in the group of Ashtangis. If I complicate my life with an avoidable injury I'll make Bali way harder than it needs to be. I'm not trying to fight my own design or damage my progress. All day I've been looking forward to a duel with the brainchild of K. Pattabhi Jois. A return to the familiarity of my old routine is too good to pass up. Shanti shanti shanti.

Bali in 15

Style: Kundalini
Teacher: Jasvinder Kaur
Studio: Rama Lotus

The yoga of awareness. After a day of recharging, absorbing sunshine and doing nothing else, I'm ready to get back on the mat. Tonight I'm going through the looking glass, following the white rabbit to another Kundalini yoga. In the world according to Yogi Bhajan, nothing makes sense to me. Up is down, down is up, inside is out. The laws of physics no longer apply. Common sense no longer exists. After I unroll my mat I'm a bewildered combination of Alice and Dorothy, at a tea party with the Hatter and the March Hare. Anyone going too deep with no compass is in danger of getting lost forever in this fairytale land of Oz, never to be seen or heard from again. With that said, I'm off to see the Wizard.

I'm not gonna lie. It's eccentric. At first glance at least it's fairly baffling. First of all if you thought three Om's were bad you've never met Ong Namo Guru Dev Namo. The mantra roughly translates to "I call upon Divine Wisdom" and is usually said with a high degree of enthusiasm. If I didn't mention, it can get a little spiritual. And let's not even get into the Long Time Sun finale. It's a pretty intense cringe-fest. Right now though I'm like a lab technician, studying my reactions under a microscope, noting their nuances and subtleties. Like, what is it to feel awkward? Where does that come from, what's its consistency, its density. I want to understand these chemical reactions, to study their foundation, their source, their growths and offshoots. I see my experience from a third person perspective, my life laid out on a sterilized operating table under glaring white artificial light. I am impersonally dissecting and analyzing my internal combustion.

The kriyas of Kundalini yoga are a far cry from the structured, physical asana practice that most people are used to. The twitching and shaking through the positions, the rapid pace of breath - at first it's both perplexing and indecipherable. It's basically a caterpillar on a mushroom blowing smoke-rings. Admittedly, the further I travel down the rabbit hole of yoga, pranayama and the intricacies of breathing, the less bizarre the kriyas appear. Really they're essentially just rapid exercises that are enhanced when timed with the breath. The freaky side of the story is that they're apparently spontaneous movements that the body might go through of its own volition. Stay with me. With the awakening of the kundalini energy, the body may experience some interesting side effects. Known as kundalini rising, the most commonly used metaphor is to imagine a coiled hose when the water is suddenly and forcefully turned on. It would reel and twist and thrash around. Kind of the same idea. Out of the blue the body could burst into dramatic gestures or vigorous physical theatrics, maybe even accompanied by uncontrolled vocals. It's said to be embarrassing when it happens in public, but that the easiest way through is to let go and surrender to the experience. The choreographed kriyas practiced in kundalini yoga class are said to have been handed down by yogi masters, replicating their own spontaneous bursts that eventually led to their own awakening. From what I understand, it seems like it's the body recalibrating its own energy intake and doing whatever it needs to do physically to allow for access to a higher degree of energy. Maybe it's increasing its own threshold, its own limit on how much energy it can compute. Or something.

The swastika from the other day has been demystified, if only slightly. Thankfully, and contrary to my initial suspicions, it wasn't on display as a socially awkward proclamation of white power. Archaeological evidence of swastika-shaped ornaments dates back to the Neolithic period in Ancient India but have been used by virtually every ancient culture in recorded history. The symbol remains widely used in Indian religions like Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism, and was once commonly used all over much of the world without stigma. Still not totally sure how it fits into the context of yoga, but I have a lot to learn. Entering final savasana I'm half expecting to hear the lollipop kids bust down the door and drag me away, down the yellow brick road in a straight jacket. With a click of my heels the adventure has come to an end. There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home.

Bali in 16

Style: None
Teacher: None
Studio: None

I'm off the grid. It's a full media blackout. Tonight I'm taking a break from the blogosphere. I'm turning off the machine. I'm reseting my consciousness and rebooting the system. I'm taking the Yin approach to life, letting go and surrendering, giving the planets a moment to align. I've already said too much. I'm ghost.

Bali in 17

Style: Kundalini
Teacher: Robert Hay
Studio: Rama Lotus

Ready for another dose of the unclassifiable, I'm back at a Saturday morning Kundalini. There is more to reality than the modern consensus allows for. I'm intrigued by that which my mind can't make sense of. I've never experienced a style of yoga so incomparable and uncategorizable. I've never encountered such overt talk of halos, auras, energy fields, you name it. At this point in time my yoga diet consists of either complete inversion attack or the paranormal. I feel myself taking comfort in that which I can't decipher. I'm at home with the strange and peculiar, at ease with reckless talk of magic and possibility.

Yogi Bhajan was the first person in history to teach Kundalini yoga in public despite the taboo that had kept it shrouded in secrecy for centuries. It is still concealed in mystery for me despite my attempts to understand it and I don't seem to mind. It offers a sensory deprivation of sorts, a full immersion that causes my mind to stop for a fraction of a second. It provides a chance to get a head start on my reason and logic so I can keep some distance between us. For now I'm cool with these gasping, breathy, rapid exercises without the need to understand why. I'm keeping the world open to interpretation. Like Hamlet said, "there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Bali in 18

Style: Kundalini
Teacher: Meherbani Desrochers
Studio: Rama Lotus

Extraterrestrial yoga. After a series of intensely introspective days spent feeling incurably overwhelmed, I'm in the mood for a change. I've only taken Kundalini yoga a few times but I've learned to expect the unexpected. Tonight I don't know what's in store for me but I'm basking in the mystery, feeling appreciation for the inherent freedom of the unknown. Walking into the Crystal room I'm not sure if I should believe my eyes at first. Decked out in traditional Kundalini regalia, I see the instructor sitting in full lotus on a white animal pelt. Beside her is a massive gong, a bunch of unripe bananas and a picture of a swastika. Alright, let's do this. Bring on the weird.

I hand my class card to the teacher and in exchange she hands me one of the green bananas. Smiling graciously for my unexpected gift, I nod my head and return to my mat. The class starts uneventfully enough as we move through some yoga exercises and a few breathing techniques. Eventually I'm on my back staring at the ceiling and the instructor casually asks us to take out our bananas. Placing my hands in the prayer position with the banana in between, I raise it up into the air. Next I'm supposed to visualize pure love passing from me into the banana, filling it with pure positive energy. Before my mind has a chance to incredulously demand to know why I'm holding this random fruit I cut it off mid-sentence. Instead I bring to mind images from my past, pieces of memory. I imagine my childhood dog, Sadie. She passed away last year but I can remember her beautiful face like I'd seen it this morning. I concentrate on the familiar feeling of unconditional love I felt for her and bring that emotion to the forefront of my consciousness. As I'm overcome with this energy I transfer it into the fruit overhead and soon the sound vibrations of the gong wash over me. This could be the single-most bizarre occurrence of any yoga class I've ever been to, but tonight I'm not letting it faze me. I put my disbelief into suspended animation. I let go of anything preconceived, any suggestions or concerns of the mind. I let myself fall into the experience as fully as possible, releasing all need to understand. My mind insisted that what I was doing was insane and I responded that I wasn't interested in its opinion at this point in time. Afterwards we were reminded to eat our fruit once it's ripened to receive the energetic benefits. Naturally.

After coming out of savasana, I awaken to find out that class isn't exactly over. We are now moving into meditation. As I cross my legs and close my eyes, Meherbani informs us that we will be using a mantra. It's known as the Guru mantra and sounds like "wah-hey gu-ru". The first half is said with volume and the gu-ru is spoken at a near whisper. I was expecting to silently repeat the mantra in my head for a while. I would probably forget as my mind trailed off into some non-related topics and eventually it would meander back, all in the privacy of my own skull. Instead here I am, sitting on the floor with my hands over my head like a teapot. Seconds turn to minutes as I continue to belt out the words. Repeating the mantra out loud forced my concentration to stay frozen like it was caught in oncoming headlights. I could feel it squirming, twisting and reeling, viciously struggling for an escape, but I continued to bombard it with the mantra. Over and over again I chanted the words in unison with the other voices in the room. I'm sure only a few minutes went by but I have no way to be absolutely sure. Time turned endless and nothing existed except me and the sound of my voice. Eventually the chant subsided and we drew in one last deep breath then released it, bringing the experience to an end. Walking out of the room afterwards I was met with some baffled looks from the yogis in the hallway. I couldn't figure out why and I'm still not really sure - Is there something weird about leaving a yoga class clutching a banana?

Bali in 19

Style: Vinyasa Inversions
Teacher: Todd Lavictoire
Studio: Upward Dog

I need a solid handstand to add to my repertoire. I’m officially obsessed. Every day I come closer and I can’t rest until I make it mine.

I attack the handstands like a drill Sergeant. I expect full cooperation and demand success. I'm not hearing any excuses tonight and I'm only accepting total victory. Barking orders at my biology I flip upside down over and over again. I tackle each new challenge with no hesitation, with the mindless brainwash of a well-trained G.I. Life upside down never felt better. My balance is improving, I have more control. I'm an adrenaline junkie and I'm feeding off the discombobulation flipping the world upside down provides. It lets me feel power. It's like I lift the entire planet over my head and hold it there. Eternity stretches out in every direction and my mind crystallizes. My attention comes to a razor sharp focus that could cut glass.

Along with the militant inversion exercises, Todd incorporated more of the bandhas. I've had some practice with Mula banda, or root lock, but today we took it even deeper and studied the Uddiyana bandha. Also known as the abdominal lock, it's practiced by exhaling completely with a curved spine, then straightening the spine and drawing the abdomen in and up without taking in any breath. We experimented with the locks in different positions, noting their effects on the practice and on the body. Learning these two bandhas eventually makes way for Agni Sara, an intense cleansing and detoxifying practice which literally translates as "purging by cascading the fire."

It might just be an old adage, but I've heard it said that it's darkest before dawn, that the darkest point of the night is right before the sun comes out. Experiencing a week-long dark night of the soul with no end in sight, I can only hope that sunrise is right around the corner. It's an internal electro-magnetic storm and it's wreaking havoc on my psyche. All I can do in the meantime is flip the script as many times as I can, trying to evade my incessant mental chatter in an inverted reality. Until I figure things out, if I ever do, I'll spend my days head over heels.

Bali in 20

Style: Power Flow
Teacher: Britton Darby
Studio: Moksha Yoga Montreal

I'm supposed to be scheduling a flight, finishing three book reports and trying to somehow come up with the money to make Bali happen. What am I doing in Montreal? The feeling of being overwhelmed is probably eerily similar to the experience of drowning. You're surrounded, powerless, scared. You're struggling and you're out of your element. How am I possibly going to pull this off?

Something is blocking me but I can't figure out what it is. Until I do I don't see how I can go any further. I'm more confused now than I was before the whole thing started. This inner quest has led me in circles and I'm more lost now than ever. Nothing makes sense. Nothing is clear. There are no road signs, no maps and no signals letting me know which way to run. I'm fending for myself and I'm losing ground. I don't know how much more I can take.

Luckily for Meredith, she gets to be with me while the waves crash against the rocks. I tell her I don't know what I'm doing, that I don't know where I'm going. I tell her I'm confused and I have no solutions. I'm indecisive and uncertain. I tell her I might be scared to experience the changes I've been asking for, like maybe I won't be able to follow through with everything I've started. The closer I get to my departure date, the more my mind reels back in panic.

Falling apart in her arms, she takes the full impact of my self-destruction and somehow manages to remain standing. I feel her energy fusing with my cells. She tells me everything will be okay, that she loves me and that everything will work out. She tells me I'm capable and ready, that I can do anything I want. She tells me that I'll make it through. Eventually I'm absorbed in the energy behind her words and I let go of the inner-struggle. My mind evaporates in the silence that follows and with it goes the accumulated stress that's been terrorizing me. The love and support from someone who cares is hard to put into words. When someone believes in you it persuades you to believe in yourself. Suddenly everything doesn't seem so bad. The stakes aren't as high, the consequences less dire. It can bring you back into the present moment as firmly as meditation or yoga. It can refresh the spirit and renew your strength. Real love gives you back to yourself. It can provide the clarity to see you as you truly are.

Bali in 21

Style: Hatha & Meditation
Teacher: Jamine Ackert
Studio: Rama Lotus

Warning: Meditation Can Impair Driving. I'm on the highway and I can't keep my eyes open. My destination is Montreal and it's almost midnight. My eyelids weigh a thousand pounds each and the white stripes on the concrete are lulling me into a trance. I'm fighting to stay awake.

A few hours earlier, looking through the Rama Lotus schedule to find a class I could fit in before hitting the road, I saw something new - Hatha & Meditation. Interesting. With a two birds and one stone approach I could get yoga and meditation out of the way in a single stroke. Convenient. The class was divided between Hatha poses, pranayama breath work and a 30 minute meditation. Although Jamine's resonating sense of humour established a super-casual, laid back atmosphere, I admit to feeling moderate terror at the mention of a half-hour pilgrimage through the carnival funhouse of Self. Fifteen minutes is enough of a wrestling match as it is. Closing my eyes and accepting my fate, I center myself in the present and quiet my internal monologue. Time unfolds and evaporates and I feel the same general lack of mental control interspersed with moments of quiet refuge, my attention fluctuating somewhere between incoherence and epiphany. As it happens, thirty minutes wasn't altogether harder than fifteen. After a certain point time ceases to have any influence and everything just is what it is.

Walking out of the studio I felt like I'd been tranquilized. By the time I pulled onto the highway to start my journey I was a drooling zombie behind the steering wheel. I was so utterly relaxed and the fatigue was becoming unbearable. The street crawled out in front of me, weaving its way across the moonlit countryside. The purr of the engine beckoned my consciousness to follow it into an abstract paradise, to leave my body behind and merge with a deafening silence. Eventually I lost my grip on perception and dozed-off traveling 105 kilometres an hour through the crisp night air. Understanding the nature of my peril, I gave myself the Zen face-slap and tried to regain some composure before I veered off the highway into the black forest. Getting off at the next exit I pulled up to the nearest drive-through and disobeyed my prohibition of caffeine. When I saw the signs marking my arrival and the skyscrapers rising on the horizon I thanked everything non-physical for surviving the near-death experience. Soon I'm comfortable and alive at my girlfriends apartment, burrowed in a quiet evening jotting down fragments of thought in a journal as they wander through my imagination. As the city sleeps I let its dreams pass through me and I remain the unbiased observer while the hours fall off the clock like autumn leaves.

Bali in 22

Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: Home Practice

I'm exhausted. Sometimes it's crucial to take some time to care for yourself. After a robotic Monday I'm back home, carving myself a nook in time. Historically it's been impossible for me to do yoga at home, but in the last weeks of the ninety days I experimented with designing my own sequences and practicing them in my own space. The results are always the same - I feel amazing. It's getting started that poses a threat. In a world of distraction it's surprisingly difficult to stop the gears from rotating for an hour and a half, to take some time to zone in. To get over that initial procrastination, there are a few techniques I've experimented with. Most importantly, it's ideal to customize the space you're in. Candles, plants, statues; all these things set the tone and create an atmosphere conducive to practice. The space around me can stop life as I know it and transport me off-planet, somewhere desolate and undiscovered. It becomes my own personal playground between dimensions. Once the stage is set, practicing is second nature. Suddenly I'm able to disband my thought processes and lose all sense of direction. Eventually I'm building an internal heat, breathing deeply and orbiting through a micro-cosmic precession of the equinoxes. Tonight, alone on my planet, I'm engaged in a battle of the handstands. Using a wall to stabilize my escapades, I'm upside down all over again. This time the fear has genuinely subsided. Chipping away slowly but diligently day after day, the progress becomes easily measurable. My arms are learning how to become the new foundation, my feet are becoming accustomed to life as the skyscraper. Tonight I'm ecstatic, grinding away at an array of handstands until I've used every last ounce of energy. Curling into child's pose and grappling for control of my breathing, I suddenly have a vision of being submerged deep underwater. I see myself drawing a bath, adding Epsom salts and fresh lavender into the hot water. I see myself closing my eyes, being overtaken by the herbal aromatherapy and drifting into an oblivion of relaxation. Deciding that my imagination had come up with the perfect recipe for meditation, I roll my mat back up and spend the rest of my evening reenacting the prophetic dream as accurately as possible.

Bali in 23

Style: Inversions
Teacher: Shawna Almeida
Studio: None

Handstands: Round II. Noticing my struggle at Thursday night's inversions class, Shawna offered to teach me a few tricks of the trade to keep in mind when flipping the world upside down. Late Sunday evening, my friend Sara and I headed over to Shawna's apartment complex. Sara works at Rama Lotus and we became friends at the teacher training program over the past few weekends. Congregating in the all-purpose room near the lobby, we unroll our mats and make our way through a warm-up sequence to get started. Once we had built some heat, our handstand deconstruction began. We took it step by step, flipping upside down while using the wall for support. Over the course of our careful analysis I was able to make subtle changes to gain equilibrium. Tilting my pelvis a few degrees, slightly pulling in my ribs, adjusting the arch of my lower back: every modification brought new levels of stability. We worked on a few more handstands, then tripod headstand and peacock feather, narrowing down posture complications until we ran out of energy altogether. Eventually we made our way into a breakdown, bringing the energy back to Earth. A few small steps, one giant leap in progress. Soon I'm back out in the night, heading home for a few short hours of sleep before an early morning. This yogic journey has crossed my path with so many interesting and amazing people. I can't help but wonder where it's all leading.

Bali in 24

Style: None
Teacher: None
Studio: None

Suddenly I'm awake. I'm in bed. I'm thirsty. From the waist up I'm still dressed in everything I was wearing last night. I don't know how I got here. According to the red glow of my spiraling alarm clock, I'm already more than halfway through Saturday afternoon. As I reach for the glass of water on my night table to relieve my parched palette, I start the preliminary effort of piecing together fragments of memory. I remember dinner, surprising my recently-returned friend as she entered the restaurant. I remember being reunited with high school friends I hadn't seen in well over a year, some even longer. I remember laughing and reminiscing at a friends house, coronas and champagne in hand. I remember a nightclub. I remember flashing lights and white leather couches. I remember the bottles of vodka on ice, the 7-up, cranberry or orange juice we could combine with it. I remember the loud, pulsing music, getting my heart-chakra rocked by the deep impact of the massive sub-woofers. I remember the sea of hair-gel and perfume, the ocean of glances in the neon glow.

That's about it.

Finally getting out of bed, I stagger down the hall looking like a haggard pirate with a peg-leg. Finally I'm in a protective hot water sanctuary, washing the city off me. Ink is starting to run down my wrist, the admission-stamp from the nightclub falling into ruin. My head hurts. Back downstairs dressed in fresh pajamas I'm thanking the gods that it's Saturday. My 24-hour ban on yoga might have to be increased. The only yoga position I'll be in today is the side-angle fetal curl. Not too sure about its traditional Sanskrit name. Right now, imagining nine weeks devoid of alcohol seems like a blessing from above. Granted, I'm not mid-summer on a patio or chilling on a lakeside dock under the hot sun, but I feel like I can do without it for a while. A cup of coffee would be nice though. It's not fair. I just want a consoling, warm beverage and I happen to love the taste of coffee. Curse you caffeine. I need to find another warm, soothing, healthy alternative I can start my day with every now and then.

Bali in 25

Style: None
Teacher: None
Studio: None

The Lord's day. Today no yoga shall be practised. I hereby pronounce it forbidden for the next twenty-four hours, banished from the land. I'm taking another self-imposed day of rest, my own personal Sabbath. After a long workday I'm back home getting ready to go out for the night. I'm not necessarily going to finish this bottle of champagne on my own, but you never know. Tonight is a surprise party for a good friend I haven't seen in a long time. It also marks the last night I'll be drinking at all for the next nine weeks. The Vibrant Living program in Bali recommends that each student use the month leading up to the training to experiment with some diet changes, preparing for the raw, living food submersive experience. Over the next few weeks I'll doing my best to avoid meat, dairy, refined sugar and processed foods, and I'll be cutting alcohol and caffeine out completely. It's not that I necessarily want to be chaste in every aspect of my life forever, but at the same time I can't help becoming more conscious of what I introduce to my system. The positive effects of a healthy diet are becoming too blatantly obvious to ignore anymore. I'm interested in consuming as precisely as possible exactly what is necessary to keep this android I currently reside within, my quantum-physical, bio-mechanical, bipedal, electro-magnetic machine, operating in its best possible condition. At the end of the day, if it doesn't serve me it's unlikely I will gravitate toward it. As my body continues to get healthier and more capable, the less self-inflicted damage I want done to it. Amen.

Bali in 26

Style: Vinyasa Inversions
Teacher: Todd Lavictoire
Studio: Upward Dog

There's something thrilling about facing death. I didn't exactly face death tonight, but I went up against the nearest alternative - Todd's inversions class. At this point in time I feel comfortable in a headstand and a few of its variations, but I have yet to make much progress with its sibling, my arch-nemesis, the handstand. It freaks me out. My heart seems to skip a few too many beats when the planet flips on its axis, coming dangerously close to stopping altogether. There is a fine line bordering brave and insane. Somewhere between having your feet planted on solid ground and being head over heels you are forced to make that distinction. So which are you?

Personally, tonight I was leaning a little more toward cowardly. I wasn't taking any risks. I wasn't pushing the envelope. I played it safe. When my arms were tired I listened to their plight and took pity on them. I listened to their excuses and let them off the hook. I didn't ask them to take it to their limit or to put their heart, soul and fiery passion into the practice. I basically shrugged it off metaphysically. I've lost my wager with balance before and tonight I let reluctance get the better of me. It's a learning process and by nature it changes day by day. It's not that I completely gave up tonight, it's just that I feel exponentially better when I apply myself at my highest potential.

But seriously. Handstands are scary.

Bali in 27

Style: Ashtanga
Teacher: Michael Dynie
Studio: Rama Lotus

Now that was awkward. Tonight I managed to bring someone with me to yoga who has never tried it. I had to basically drag him there but in the end it was mostly voluntary. Anyway, this friend, Chris, has never really done yoga and doesn't really know anything about it. I was able to get him in a studio once. It was a wall-to-wall packed Bikram class and he absolutely hated it. This time around I decided a low-key, evening Ashtanga would be more his style. Not only is it one of my favourite classes, I thought it would work because it's straight to the point and the physical benefits can be felt right away. As soon as we unrolled our mats, I was suddenly unbelievably self-conscious. All of a sudden the whole thing was weird. Yoga is weird. Exercising with people is weird. Chanting is weird. It's like I was seeing the experience through someone else's eyes, some theoretical, hypothetical, self-imagined yoga-hater. I felt myself cringing as the class moved through the first three Om's. I could feel the blood rushing to my face and I was probably blushing so intensely that I thought I might permanently burn my skin. Trust me, it's not impossible to Om through clenched teeth, but it does produce an out of key, awkward warble which did nothing to alleviate the embarrassment. I sounded like a lost cat with a hangover. Even in the poses I had no concentration. My mind was suddenly a fist-pumping frat boy wondering "dude, don't they do yoga in India? Let's grab a beer." The whole thing was a hokey, superstitious mess, something you might do in a cult and a complete waste of time.

When the class was over I couldn't even ask him how his experience was. I disappeared out of the room quickly, alone. After changing and getting back outside, I took a deep breath of fresh air and tried to shake off my adolescent insecurities. I don't care how the world sees me. If something is different it's instantly weird. I can't cater to the infinity of conflicting perspectives. Everyone kills everyone else because they can't agree on anything. Now everyone is scared to be themselves. They choose one of a few pre-constructed personalities then try to live by the corresponding rule book. I can only live for me. I'll be uniquely myself until my death. It was at this point Chris interrupted my internal motivational speech.

"Class was pretty cool tonight. I think I'll come back with you next Wednesday."

Bali in 28

Style: Restorative
Teacher: Anne Pitman
Studio: Santosha Westboro

I've been slacking on my meditation practice. I skipped a day or two. Or five.

As the Sun began to set in the horizon I made my way back to Santosha in Westboro. Tonight will be another first. Restorative yoga. The goal is to experience a total surrender to gravity as your body is deeply supported by various props and blankets. Feeling like I could use some restoration, I decided there was no better time than the present to try it out. It's an unbelievably relaxing process. Time becomes abstract, the body lets go of accumulated tension and the mind is set free. It was exactly what I needed. I floated out of the studio and back home, absorbed in immaculate comfort. I would have fallen into a deep sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, but there was still something I had to do.

Taking a seat on the floor and tying my legs in a bow, I close my eyes and breathe. Meditation is hard. For the past few days I have completely avoided it. I feel like I'm back in high school and I haven't done my homework lately. The mind is too untamed. It's a wild ape with attention deficit disorder. Shawna left me a comment on yesterday's post:
Personal growth is a pretty intense thing and can knock you off your spiritual feet. To counter this I suggest the following: remember your commitment to meditation and consider the following mantra, "Om Namah Shivaya". While there is no true translation of this mantra, the commonly understood meaning is "I honour that which I am capable of becoming". Whatever you come to be, you'll still be you.
Closing my eyes, balancing and deepening my breathing pattern, I slowly start to settle in to the moment. There are endless techniques used to enter into a meditative state. I usually close my eyes and breathe. I focus on the slow exhalation, the inhalation and the subtle spaces between. As thoughts arise, I interact with them as little as possible and bring my attention back to my breathing. When I catch my mind mid-wander, I let go of the thoughts and again I return my attention to the breath. When I was at the Sivinanda Ashram, it was said that you are eventually given a mantra to repeat and to focus on. Before that time, you would use the Om. Every now and then I would imagine the vibration of Om being generated inside me, a sort of silent internal hum. Somehow it seems to slow down the energy of thought, holding you in the present. Shawna's message is the closest I've come to being given a personal mantra, so I decided to experiment with it. I adore the meaning behind the words. It completely sums up exactly what I need to hear at this point in my life. Gently playing with the sounds in my mind, I repeat the mantra soothingly, hypnotically. Eventually I start feeling like I've been enveloped in its vibration, becoming part of the wavelength itself. Soon I'm encompassing the entire electromagnetic spectrum and expanding my awareness beyond all sound, light, and colour, all time and space, past the furthest limits of reality as we understand it. Then my alarm goes off.

Unfortunately, the alarm clock is down the hall in my room. My legs have gone completely numb and have lost all feeling. I'm talking way beyond pins and needles. I am one hundred percent paralyzed. With delicate care I manually unwind my legs and recline onto my back. Blood is being pumped back into my legs and I can feel some life returning, but I definitely can't move yet. As I lay frozen across the floor staring at the ceiling, the digital alarm clock continues its sonic attack and I am powerless to defend myself as it unravels all the work I put in, scaring away all the enlightened vibrations. Note to self: when meditating, the alarm should always be within arm's reach.

Bali in 29

Style: Hot
Teacher: Ichih Wang
Studio: Santosha Westboro

Back on the road again. After one day of rest I've reverted into the do-or-die challenge mentality and to get started on the good foot I decided to try a new studio. While I've been to the Santosha on Elgin a few times during the ninety, today I headed into Westboro to experience the original location. Underestimating the power of rush hour, I pull into a parking space minutes before the class is scheduled to start. Glancing down at a torn scrap of paper in my hand with directions and an address, I try my best to decipher my illegible scrawl as I run down the street like a maniac. Dashing up the stairs as fast as I can I scramble frantically to the front desk, trying to catch my breath. Class has just started but I'm welcome to sneak in. Entering the sweltering heat and tiptoeing over a few yogis I eventually find myself a piece of floor and unroll my mat. The next hour and a half drifts away in a sweaty, blissful blur and before I know it I'm back outside in the warm evening air.

Getting home and setting up shop in front of my laptop, I'm sitting in its silent glow, waiting. As I prepare to throw an assortment of thoughts into the digital sea of information, I'm suddenly visited by a most unexpected stranger. Though my front door is locked, it passes through and moves in closer, descending down around me, draping itself over my shoulders. It's an old friend of mine, known as Doubt. As soon as I become aware of its presence I can feel my whole disposition being altered. The calm post-yoga bliss has soon evaporated and the void left behind is slowly being filled by the side-effects of my acquaintance. First it surrounds me, then it slowly starts to suffocate. I'm antsy, I'm fidgeting, I can't sit still or concentrate. I have no idea where this came from. Something feels different about today. After rounding the bend, completing the ninety-day challenge, I feel like I'm on the home stretch. The thing is, I'm not feeling any sort of relief. On the contrary actually. These next 28 days are unbelievably intimidating. It seems to be an immovable object and the voices in my head are cursing and berating my decision to continue. I feel like I can't do it anymore.

Unable to withstand it any longer, I close my computer and make my way upstairs. Looking at myself in the mirror, I can only shake my head, disbelieving the self-constructed predicament I'm in. It was over. Why couldn't I have left it alone? As I turn on the water for a shower my mind is still tossing and turning, twisting itself into knots. It's an unsettling, claustrophobic sensation and I feel like I would do anything to be left alone. I close my eyes and try to taper off the steady flow of uninvited thoughts, but it's no use. Nothing's working. What is wrong with me? As I step through the steam into the hot, cascading water, the stress slowly starts to release its grip. I try to hold my consciousness in limbo, keeping my thoughts as motionless as possible. Soon I'm wrapped in a consoling towel, drying my hair and trying to forget the sense of impending doom that I can't seem to shake.

It all comes down to one thing. Trust. It's hard to live with uncertainty, to survive in the uncharted and unexplored. Nothing is ever guaranteed. I don't know where these last thirty days are leading and I don't know what's waiting for me in Bali. To tell you the truth, I don't even know what to do with my life. I cant help but feel lost. Moving blindly into the unknown is terrifying. It's all about trust. Somehow deep down I understand that I just need to let go. I need to trust that when I take the next step, the ground will be there to support me. Life unfolds in the most fascinating but mysterious ways and it tends to be completely unpredictable. My mind wants everything to be laid out in an understandable order. It wants a succinct blueprint, a precise diagram. It wants a road-map with all exits clearly marked, a step-by-step itinerary that I can follow logically to get from point A to B to C. Life doesn't seem to function like that. It seems to be a headfirst plunge into potentiality. Nothing is definite and anything can happen. I just need to hold on to some trust, some faith in the outcome. It's all going to work out, I just need to know that. Tonight that knowing is easier said than done.

Bali in 30

Style: None
Teacher: None
Studio: None

The countdown begins. Thirty days from now I will be onboard an airplane traveling half-way around the world to Bali, Indonesia. Between then and now I'll be continuing the process of putting thoughts in black and white.

I'm going to start the first day of this challenge by not doing any yoga. At all. Whatsoever. At first I was feeling a little uncertain about not practicing, like maybe the yoga-gods would strike me down for missing a day of worship, but overall there can be just as much wisdom gained from rest. While a plant loves the nourishing rays of the Sun to help it grow and evolve, it equally requires periods of darkness to internalize and incorporate the benefits. During photosynthesis it's a phenomena known as dark reaction. It's an important process that releases Oxygen into the air and it only happens in the dark or at night. We all need sleep. In the modern world it is customary to function in an obsessive regiment, to get caught up in a military-esque approach. While discipline is a major aspect of the yogi lifestyle, it's not the all-encompassing picture. Taking time to rest, allowing the body to integrate and absorb the effects of the practice is essential for growth. My ninety-day challenge made no room for rest. It never entered the equation. It was a ransom letter, a list of demands for my body to follow diligently, without question. Over the next 30 days I want to give my practice a more natural flow, developing elements of recuperation and relaxation. There is more to the story than postures alone.

Day 90

Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: Home Practice

I'm at a loss for words. I'm blatantly suffering from writer's block. I'm tongue-tied. It's been ninety days.

Here I am. Moments after rolling up my mat and placing it back in its bag, my laptop is open and my fingertips are hovering reluctantly over the keys. I'm paralyzed. I have no words. I figured by now I would have a quotable life lesson I could end things with, maybe some words of wisdom that could heal the world. At least some sort of concluding sentiment, some last thoughts to wrap up the trip. I got nothing.

Just like last time, the experience is wholly anticlimactic. Today is no different then any other day. No light from the heavens shone down to bless me with a medal of honour, no rounds of applause can be heard. It's really the simplicity of the moment that is making the most impact. The changes have all taken place under the surface, far below ground level. Deep down I'm experiencing a transformation, a subtle metamorphosis. I can't quite figure out what's going on to tell you the truth. I can't seem to put my finger on it, to narrow it down. I'm not exactly sure. It's a nameless, formless, shape-shifting entity, a mysterious creature that transcends my ability to compose a sentence around it. Tonight I'm not going to put too much thought into it all. I'll do my best to put down my scalpel and stethoscope for the evening, maybe take off my lab coat. I want to keep it simple. For now, I want to let things marinate. I want to calmly digest the experience with no input from my mind. I think tonight I'll just let it be.

Day 89

Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: Home Practice

Naked Yoga? Yes, it exists. Apparently what began as an "underground sensation" has recently gained much more popularity, with Hot Nude Yoga studios popping up all over the United States and Europe. When I ended up on the final day of my last challenge, the hundred-and-first afternoon, I knew none of this.

I was on my way to a Bikram class at Rama Lotus. Arriving for a session at 7:30 pm I realized that it was Friday night, forgetting that places tend to close a little earlier. I was late and the last class of the night had already begun. In other words, I was out of luck. Walking back outside into the late-December breeze, one day away from finishing 101 in a row, there wasn't a class in the city. So, I went home. At this point I had only practiced yoga once or twice at home and it was a complete struggle. For whatever reason, unrolling my mat alone was a near physical impossibility, but that night I had no choice. Getting home to an empty house, unlocking the door and turning on the lights, the experience was more anticlimactic then I had visualized. Here I was at the end of a personal challenge, alone. There was no celebration as I passed the finish line, no champagne corks flying through the air, no interviews from the frenzied media wondering how I felt. Just a regular Friday night in a silent house.

Unrolling my mat across the floor and feeling the reflection in the moment, I could sense the distance traveled. I remember taking some time to let my mind drift back across the weeks that had led me to this point. I had been through a lot. I had moved through different ups and downs, through personal highs and lows, through varying degrees of introspection. I had felt an array of different emotion, had come to so many realizations. It all led here, to a humble evening alone. Setting up my laptop to lead me through a subdued Yin sequence, I dimmed the lights and took off my clothes. Reaching for my yoga gear, suddenly a thought occurred to me. No one is home. It's just me and the endless expanse of the Universe. Maybe I'm actually the only one on the planet. What's the point in wearing any clothes?

So that's how the last challenge ended. In the spirit of keeping it honest and transparent, I did my last yoga practice absolutely and completely naked. Everything about the experience was surreal, nearly out-of-body. Although I was at the end of a long process, moving through the different poses alone, naked in the dark, the experience was more of a re-birth. Interestingly enough, after a few short minutes I forgot all about my lack of attire. I was clothed in darkness, in whispers and candlelight, in the silence of the night. I was dressed in the layers of my own biology and physiology. It felt more normal and natural then anything. As I lay onto my back, shifting into final relaxation, I felt the world spin on its axis and I felt like I was part of the process. Soon I had drifted off to sleep, dissolving out of my known world into something else. I didn't know it at the time, but my journey had only just begun.