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.

Day 88

Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: Home Practice

It hasn't hit me yet. Flying across the planet to study yoga on a tropical jungle island? I've done a bit of jet-setting here and there, but nothing that compares to this. It still doesn't feel real.

Who will I meet there? What will it be like? Questions like these flow through my minds eye as I work through a self-styled yoga sequence at home. My imagination turns Van Gogh, painting vivid images of beaches, blue skies and palm trees. I see temples and statues and smoothies. Coming out of a few spinal twists, I am equal parts "what have I gotten myself into?" and "let's do this, when does my flight leave?", a chemistry of nervous and excited energy doing the Samba through my consciousness. Practicing yoga non-stop for three months, I haven't had a chance to look up and look around. Suddenly I'm here, a world away from where I was when I started. Everything happened in a blur and I feel dizzy, discombobulated. Once again time evaporated into thin air, a suspended condensation above my life experience, just slightly out of reach. In one day I've single handedly managed to extend my challenge by a month and solidify a second intensive month of training around the world in a jungle. Things just got a lot bigger.

Day 87

Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: Rama Lotus

I'm going to Bali. I'm traveling half-way around the globe to Indonesia to study yoga. I sent in my application and deposit and I've been accepted. It's still completely surreal.

I will be studying at the Anahata Resort in Bali, near the city of Ubud. The organization is called Vibrant Living and it looks absolutely amazing. I stumbled across their website months ago and thought it looked incredible, never thinking I would sign up. Over the last few weeks of the challenge my intuition has been resurfacing that thought over and over. Bali. Bali. Bali. Finally I decided. I'm doing it. Before I knew it I had filled out the application and sent it in. Now it's set in stone. I can't believe it! It's a one month intensive course after which I will be fully certified. Although I have a feeling my training will be far from over at that point, it's an awesome prospect. Now I have very little time to organize my travel plans and complete the reading list. There are three books that are required reading: Jivamukti Yoga, by Sharon Gannon and David Life, The Heart of Yoga: Developing a Personal Practice, by T. K. V. Desikachar, and Loving What Is, by Byron Katie. Book reports are due on all three titles in a few short days, so I definitely have my work cut out for me. It seems like an amazing well-rounded organization and I'll be writing more about it over the next few weeks.

Also, I conveniently figured out a way to wrap up the blog. The answers came. I leave for Bali around the 13th of May, a little over a month from now. I'm going to continue my challenge right up until the day I leave. When I'm there, I will be penning the experience in my journal, day after day, and when I come home I will have the final posts. The whole experience will culminate with my training in Bali. What will happen in the days after that, I have no idea.

Waking up this morning with the incredible buzz of adventures around the world to come, I decided to head over to Rama Lotus and join in practice with Shawna and Todd Lavictoire. As usual Shawna provided the soundtrack, this time shifting from Hip-Hop to a jazzier, Trip-Hop/Soul experience. Another member of the weekend teacher training, Pierre, also showed up to join in the self-led practice. Again the experience was sublime, constructing a personal practice to the ambient vocals and instrumentals that flooded the room. The procession of the poses became an aerodynamic spacecraft and I traveled through time and dimension, parallel Universes and alternate realities. Landing back home in savasana I awoke with an electrical excitement coursing through my veins. I'm going to Bali.

Day 86

Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: Home Practice

I'm a liar. I'm a fraud. I'm a fake. I've been misleading you all. It's all a sham. I didn't actually do ninety days the first time around. Okay maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. Allow me to explain.

When I started my original ninety day yoga challenge back in September of 2009, I had only ever done yoga a few times. It wasn't initially a ninety day challenge. It was supposed to be a thirty day challenge. My mom is an avid yogini, and it was her idea. She challenged me. She said I couldn't, I said I could. For me it was a great excuse to exercise, but at the time, thirty days straight practicing yoga seemed like an insurmountable task. As that first month progressed however, something started to shift. I began to realize that there is something special about yoga, something mysterious that I was only beginning to scratch the surface of. I decided that thirty days wasn't enough. My mentality at the time was, each yoga practice is an hour and a half, which is ninety minutes. If I did ninety classes in a row, it would be like each class represented one minute and in effect I would be doing one massive, intergalactic yoga class. Also, the first class of the original challenge auspiciously landed on September ninth, or 09/09/09. There was just too much numerology indicating that I had to triple my thirty day challenge. It was as if life itself was gesturing me to continue. So my mother and I each extended our challenges to ninety days. When we got to the eighty-ninth class, she told me she was going for a hundred. At this point I was a complete yoga-junkie and the thought of everything coming to an end was depressing, so I decided I would go to a hundred as well. (Also, truth be told, there was no way I was going to be outdone by my mom who would live on with eternal bragging rights unto the end of time.) In the end, we did one-hundred-and-one days in a row. Coming as far as we did, we really needed to hit the triple digits. We made it. 101 Dalmatians.

After the three weeks off, I decided to repeat the challenge, only this time I would blog about it. The challenge of practicing along with writing down my experience every day has completely amplified the journey, propelling me deeper within myself at an incalculable speed. As the days and weeks added up, I thought about the finish line. How was it going to end? Should I stop at ninety? Should I go to a hundred? How will I find any closure with this project? Am I actually able to stop? These questions perplexed me behind the scenes every now and then. What to do, what to do. This time around, I wasn't too sure. I'm still not sure. Ending my experience in 4 more days seems premature. But then again, I laid out that goal and I'm almost there. Somewhere in the seventies I decided I should go past ninety, at least to 101, maaaaybe 102, just to top the last challenge. As I came closer, the idea of simply wrapping things up at 90 was just so seductive. Even though something inside me was still persuading me to continue, no one would be the wiser. On the ninety-first morning I would have nothing to write. I could just do other things, get back to having a real life again. I'd be off the hook. It's an easy way out. Just let it go.

As I sat with that conclusion, I knew I couldn't. Here I am, so close, yet I'm going to have to continue. This challenge will go on past ninety days. In effect I will have obliterated the name of my blog, leaving it with absolutely no meaning or relevance, but I will still be writing about my experience for some time to come regardless. It's something I have to do. I just don't know how long. I have a feeling the answers will come to me. They always do...

Day 85

Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: Home Practice

Meditation, meditation, meditation... Easier said then done. Over the weekend during teacher training, we were given a few items of homework and they all involved thirty-day commitments. One of them was to, for 15 minutes everyday, do something we've always wanted to do but never got around to actually doing. Maybe you always wanted to write a book, maybe you always wanted to learn a second language, maybe you always wanted to cook. For fifteen minutes every day you do that and only that. Write a bit, read a bit, cook some food... but do that with no distractions. Focus your entire energy and do it every day for thirty days. I've always wanted to meditate, so it seemed like a good idea. At the time.

Sitting in quite solace surrounded by aspiring yogis, it has never been easier to slow my tempo and focus inward, breathing in and out, maybe gently om'ing in my mind, whatever. My first day meditating in "real life" is turning out to be more of a challenge then I seemed to realize. Now that it's a thirty day commitment, there is no way around it. I will take the time every day no matter what the circumstance. On this Easter Monday, I have no time to be alone. Eventually I decide to barricade myself in my room and lock the door. Soon I settle into a somewhat comfortable cross-legged position and try to focus. Then I realize my sister and some friends are in the backyard having a conversation. My mind pokes and prods, sticking to their words like a magnet as they drift in through the window. Moments later I'm back up, looking for another room. No luck. It's a holiday, people are around, that's all there is to it. Eventually an idea dawns on me and I'm both interested and repulsed. Where can I go where I know I will be undisturbed? What is the only room people don't bother interfering with you? Yes. That's right. The bathroom.

This is weird. I am standing, looking at myself in the mirror, in the bathroom, preparing to meditate. Have I lost my mind? Exhaling with a sigh, I decide that maybe in fact I have, but then again that might make the whole no-mind meditation process that much easier. So there I am, sitting on the cold white tiles of my washroom floor, trying to focus. People are walking around in my house. I hear footsteps, creaking floorboards, walking up and down the stairs, right outside the door, perpetually coming and going. People talk, people yell, people are generally loud. Breathe. Someone knocks something over. Slams the back door. Breathe. Someone calls my name. Someone calls my name again, wondering where I just disappeared to. I figure if I burst out with an aggravated "leave me alone I'm f*@%ing meditating", I might be taking a few steps backwards. Breathe. I don't remember this being so hard. What have I signed myself up for? I can go ninety, a hundred, three hundred days if necessary stretching and contorting myself through hour and a half physical practices, but thirty days of sitting still for fifteen brief minutes? How can this be so challenging?

One thing these yoga challenges have taught me is that, if I say I can do it, I can and will do it. So for the next 27 days I WILL sit down, cross my legs and close my eyes, even if it kills me. And it won't. And I will come out, back into the light of day. And you know what else? I will have done what I said I was going to do. And that successful use of willpower feels good. And finally, if meditating poses such a massive threat, I can rest assured there is something in it worth searching for. Again, there is no turning back.

Day 84

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

Gratitude, the most powerful energy in the known Universe? Today's teacher training was all about the energies of forgiveness and gratitude. Class began with Mark leading us through a discourse on the effect of appreciation and how that energy affects our lives. We talked about different philosophical theories, considering for a moment that "God" or "Life" or "Source" or "the Universe" or whatever you want to call it is actually an all-encompassing, impersonal electromagnetic field that responds to the vibration of thought. Our discussions were absolutely intriguing. Through years of curiosity and wondering about the bigger questions life has to offer, my own personal views have lined up more and more with concepts such as these and I found everything easy to relate to. I feel strongly that thoughts create, that you are the creator of your own reality, that a law of attraction exists and so on. Eventually we came to a point in our discussions where we paused to write down things we felt grateful for, elements of our own lives where we felt appreciation. As I centered myself and pressed my pen into my journal, letting the ink seep into the paper, I teleported inside myself. What am I honestly grateful for? I feel unbelievably grateful for a loving family and quality friends who surround me, simultaneously willing to allow and challenge me as I walk my path, seeking whatever it is that I'm after. The relationships in my life are so special, so sacred. I feel gratitude for an evolving awareness, for a deepening understanding of life. I feel appreciation for this gorgeous weather and for this gorgeous planet. I feel gratitude for the freedom of choice, for both physicality and infinity, for nature, for replenishing soil and for the magic of creation. As I picked up speed and got on a roll, I began to realize just how much I have to be grateful for. There is so much love in my life and I feel utterly blessed.

As the afternoon passed by we did more exercises about appreciation, studying and analyzing ways in which we block or diminish gratitude, its effect on our experience and ways in which we could shift our energy, allowing for more positivity. All this work led into our first practice of the day. I should have known Mark had a trick up his sleeve. The idea for this posture work was to hold various poses for extended periods of time. As we held each pose for much longer then usual, sensations would definitely arise, feelings one could label as uncomfortable or, um, painful. The goal was to create and hold on to a feeling of gratitude in these moments, to feel happy and appreciative when things began to feel unbearable. Through one challenging and extended position after another, I felt my body reacting more and more. Time bled away and stretched out in all directions. As the torment spread through my body, I reminded myself that it was nothing more then electrical signals interpreted by my brain. Okay, that didn't work so well... they still felt pretty damn real in the moment. As things got more intense, I turned inward and tried to summon feelings from deep inside. Even though it was hard at the moment and things were getting even more difficult, I locked my mind onto some fleeting fragments of appreciation. I felt thankful that my body was able to meet my demands, that I have the health and vitality to do what I'm doing. I also know that afterwards the benefits of these postures are always apparent. I started to literally thank my muscles for their hard work, thanking the struggle for its gifts, thanking my lungs for drawing in life-giving air. I thanked my connective tissue for softening, I thanked my bones for their stability. I eventually found myself thanking the pain and unbearability I was feeling and I thanked it truthfully from the bottom of my heart. The more grateful I felt, the more power and strength seemed to be given back to me. I felt newfound energy in the poses, an inner support and a confidence that I would indeed make it thorough the process unscathed. I believed in myself. In the end, as the dust settled, we all agreed that it was one of the most challenging practices of our lives, but also one of the most rewarding.

Today's training was slightly shortened because it happens to be Easter Sunday, but we used our time to the fullest. We ended the day studying the energy of forgiveness. After another lengthy and nourishing conversation, we went into a guided meditation which focused on the energy of forgiveness. The technique we used is a healing process from the Hawaiian tradition known as Ho'o Pono Pono. Awakening back into the room twenty minutes later, I felt a lightness that was hard to describe. Heading home to spend the evening with close friends and family, I felt such an intense appreciation for my life. It's simple. I felt happy.

Day 83

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

It's been so long. Actually, it's only been two weeks, but the space-time continuum must be shifting because I feel like I've been away from my teacher training for a lot longer. Nevertheless, today I'm back in my element for another 8-hour intensive, the third weekend in the first 80-hour module of Mark, Louise and Todd's training program. As soon as we got settled we plunged right in, studying the 8 limbs of yoga in detail. Not only is the subject matter absolutely fascinating, Todd's teaching style fully consumed my attention and again I felt myself absorbing the information, processing and internalizing it. Next we moved on to the 5 paths of yoga. Jnana yoga is the path of knowledge or wisdom. Essentially it's the use of the mind to transcend the mind. Knowledge in this sense is not necessarily a collection of data, but is more so the study of scripture and information, then synthesizing that into the light of personal experience. Bhakti yoga is the path of devotion or love, referring to emotional connections made in life, to family, friends, a teacher and so on. Karma yoga is the path of selfless service, to serve humanity without attachment or expectation. It literally translates to "union through action". Kriya yoga is the path of technique and it's the main reason we're all at this teacher training. It's the method of preparing the body for meditation by practicing asana, or posture. Essentially it's the physical aspect of yoga, and often here in the west the word "yoga" is usually referring to this path. Finally there is Raja yoga, or Royal yoga. This path is basically a fusion of the previous 4 paths, incorporating them into one cohesive whole.

After a few hours of study and analysis we moved on to the practice itself. Today's focus was on twists. A twisting practice works out the parasympathetic nervous system, helping with digestion, pacifying all the Ayurvedic energies of Kapha, Pitta and Vatta, as well as focusing on the third, second, fifth and sixth chakras. By the end I felt like a wet towel that had been wrung out by a world championship wrestler, and I was more then ready for lunch.

Upon return Louise took over the class and we delved further into the anatomy of the spine. We studied the various intricacies of the spinal cord, learning the effect of different postures on skeletal structure. Next we delved back into the yoga sūtras of Patañjali. We focused on the third and twelfth from book one, drawing a deeper look at the meanings behind the ancient words. We also made some thirty-day commitments. The first was a promise to solidify a daily affirmation. This will be done by choosing a Yin style posture every day and repeating an internal mantra, over and over again for about five undisturbed minutes. I chose the mantra that "all the answers are within me". Resurfacing back into reality afterward, I felt a sense of calm, a sense that my journey doesn't need to take me far and wide because all that I seek is close to home. I don't need to find and outside authority to obtain clarity and understanding. The answers to any questions I have and more that will arise as time goes on can be found within my own being.

Our other thirty-day commitment was to create a list of all the things we had always wanted to do, but never actually got around to doing. Of that list we had to choose one, then do it everyday for thirty days, for fifteen minutes each day. From all the things in my list, I chose to cultivate a daily meditation practice. It's something I've always intended to do, but in the chaos of everyday life I find it surprisingly difficult to stop the world and take some time to quiet my mind and chill. I mean, I do it every now and then, but it's far from a practice that I do very often. Today was the first day. I closed my eyes and traveled inward, focusing on my breathing. As the time passed, my mind did what it usually does - drifts off into some storyline or another and gets tangled up in the thought process. Every time it did, I gently reminded it to return to focus on my breathing. Eventually the most peculiar thing began to happen. I felt something stirring inside me. It started with a lighthearted, happy energy. After that I started to get the sense of an inner space, a growing vastness within myself. Just as soon as it began the fifteen minutes were up and we were all brought back to the room. Saying our goodbyes until we meet again tomorrow, I gathered my things and climbed back into my car. I leave today with a firm resolve to take the time everyday, just a short fifteen minutes, to stop and turn my focus inward. It has been said that meditation is the practice of slowing and directing the mind to a single point or purpose, to slow the momentum of thought and eventually abide in our real nature. I'm into it.

Day 82

Style: Ashtanga
Teacher: Basia Going
Studio: Adishesha

Third time's the charm. After a beautiful day in the Sun, basking in the warmth of life with friends and family, I'm on my way to Adishesha Yoga Zone. I've been to this small, cozy studio a few times now. I've heard high praise for the owner, Basia Going, from both Mark Laham and Todd Lavictoire. The last two attempts I've made to get in on one of her classes she's been mysteriously out of the country, off on some international yoga business in Costa Rica.

Walking into the spacious, one-room studio out of the blistering heat and unrolling my mat on the hardwood floor, my curiosity is peaked. The hype has built up over the course of the challenge and I can't help but wonder if my expectations could overshadow the experience. As Basia floated through the room collecting cards, I closed my eyes and tried to let go of my pre-concieved ideas. Music started to flow out of the speakers and moments later we all rose to our feet. The proceedings began and Basia's instruction carried me through the familiar Ashtangi motions, holding the space with a quiet confidence. As we got deeper into the flow, she came over and made slight adjustments to my poses, subtly shifting or contorting the positioning of my posture. Each time she did, I felt myself gain deeper access, sinking in further then I've ever been up to this point. A few well-placed changes made a world of difference, completely reinventing the asanas for me. After a few of those I realized that Basia was completely living up to the high praise she had received. By the end of the class I was satisfied, walking back out into the warm air with that priceless post-yoga buzz. Even in the twilight of my personal challenge, things continue to remain interesting and intriguing. It's an endless journey and in reality, it's only just begun.

Day 81

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

Now that was an epic yoga class. Even though Todd Lavoctoire is one of my instructors in the yoga teacher training I take every second weekend, I've never actually been to one of his classes. I've loved his style so far, so tonight I decided to head downtown to Upward Dog and see what it's all about.

Tonight the focus was on inversions. Todd is soft spoken but tough as nails and as things got going, he provided every level of variation, accommodating students who were just beginning to those who already have an established ability. Things progressed and the level of intensity began to rise. People were falling over and crashing to the ground left right and center. The studio turned into a war zone and I was on the battlefield, dodging bullets. As I attempted each handstand, headstand and a host of other intense inversions, I would feel a choking primal fear rising up my throat. Swallowing it back down, I centered my focus and did my best to calm my mind. Like Todd said, falling is part of the learning process. Very punk-rock. In the end, the class was unbelievably exhilarating. To turn, face my fears and stare them directly in their eyes is a powerful feeling for me. I looked at them until they backed down and allowed me my space. Over and over again I flipped the room upside down, deepening my practice bit by bit, making slow but solid steps forward. I felt like I was building a fortress brick by brick. If I focus on the big picture, it's easy to be intimidated and overwhelmed. Instead, I focused on what was directly in front of me, carefully placing one brick at a time and by the end of the class I could sense my foundation becoming sturdier then ever.