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.
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.
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