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?

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 The north wind has withdrawn its siege on the landscape.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.

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.

Style: Power
Teacher: Bryan Kest (DVD)
Studio: Home Practice

So today was round two on the raw food circuit. With a new, longer, more incomprehensible list of ingredients I roam through the most granola-supplement-armpit-hair areas of the city. After spending way too much money on organic this and raw that, I'm back home with my cookbook. Bustling back and fourth in my kitchen like a mad scientist frantically and diabolically mixing ingredients, eventually I have a few creations. First: Miso soup. I take my first sip... and I feel like my sidewalk must feel on a winter afternoon with layers of salt dissolving through the snow. One unfamiliar ingredient called Namo Shoyu was more or less impossible to find. After trying four of the most hardcore health food stores and coming up empty handed, I am informed by an eavesdropping customer that the last person in here looking for that product took this as an alternative. Well that helpful hint sabotaged my masterpiece.

That same deadly sodium error translated over to the raw Pad Thai main course, utterly manhandling and subduing the rest of the subtle, delicate flavours. Finally, the black olive pesto. During preparation, the recipe called for two cups of basil. Back home, unpacking the groceries, I realize I only have one cup worth, and it's the wrong kind. Its Thai basil, with its own completely distinct flavour. To make up for lost herb, mint and spinach are added. This could be a disaster. Dipping a toasted crostini into the Kalamata pesto, I take a bite. And chew. And swallow. It's delicious. After hungrily devouring as much as I can, I'm back in my sanctuary working through another choreography. Late into the night, writing this blog entry under dim lights in a sleeping house, I'm absolutely starving, taking guilty solace in a bag of chips. A raw diet is a complicated affair. I have a massive appetite, so one false move in the raw food world, and I'll starve to death.

Style: Power
Teacher: Mark Laham (DVD)
Studio: Home Practice

The first day of the rest of your life. Armed with a gift-certificate from Christmas I'm at Singing Pebbles, my friendly neighbourhood bookstore. Glancing over the selection, I feel drawn to one title in particular. It's a cookbook full of recipes called "Everyday Raw". Without getting too specific, basically there's vegetarian, there's vegan, and then there's the raw diet. Despite initially coming across as intimidating and potentially complicated, I bought the book anyway. After heading to a few health food stores to gather some unpronouncable ingedients, I'm back home in the kitchen. Studying my strange new book, I spend the rest of the afternoon making a jicama salad, almond milk, and the best smoothie I've ever had in my entire life.

Raw foodism is a lifestyle promoting the consumption of uncooked, unprocessed, and often organic foods as a large percentage of the diet. Cooking food is believed to destroy enzymes that assist in digestion and absorption, and is thought to diminish the nutritional value and "life force" naturally inherent in food. While it's heartbreaking to think I would be excluded from experiencing some exotic and delicious dishes, overall I can't help being aware of the importance of choosing what I consume as wisely as possible. I'm not in a rush to enlist with any particular school of thought. I'm still learning and experimenting, but admittedly I'm feeling absolutely amazing after all the energizing, healthy food. Before I know it I'm in my room working through a home Power sequence, and not long after that I'm melting into my bed, slowly dissolving.

Style: Power
Teacher: Bryan Kest (DVD)
Studio: Home Practice

Can't touch this. To complete the Bryan Kest Power yoga series, today I'm putting my New Kids On The Block cassette into my tape player, throwing on a fresh pair of Nike high-tops, and doing the running man over to my yoga mat.

After a long day at school, I figured it was as good a time as any to wrap up the Kest classes. At this point I've grown accustomed to 1995 and my attention doesn't waver as Bryan enthusiastically reminds me to move through the poses with "equanimity" in a southern Californian surfer-yogi accent. It's only the first few moments when I'm watching the screen anyway. As soon as the flow of posture begins, I'm not even looking anymore. I move inwards all over again, listening to the instruction and focusing on the mechanics of the mind and body.

Style: Power
Teacher: Bryan Kest (DVD)
Studio: Home Practice

Flying through the Universe, catapulted from the dream-state and crash-landing into my bed, I'm back on Earth. Waking up, showering, and walking downstairs, Sunday morning sunshine washes in through the windows and across my hardwood floors. Initially I was planning on an evening Vinyasa to wrap up the weekend, but I have a bit of an Olympic dilemma. Canada plays the US tonight in men's hockey for the Gold medal on the final day of the Olympics. I think it would be wise to keep my evening open. Instead, before I do anything, I'll unroll my mat for another home yoga. Of the five or so classes-on-tape given to me by Mike, this morning I think I'll try Bryan Kest's second of the three in his Power yoga series. The first was called Energize, second is called Tone, and the third is Sweat, and are described as beginner, intermediate and advanced respectively. Despite having a vintage, dated feel to the DVDs, the instruction and sequencing are top quality. I'm even digging the 1990's relapse. You can see for yourself.

I'm also using this early morning freedom to investigate possible international travel involving yoga. A preliminary internet scouting mission, bringing back information on flight prices and different yoga-organizations and workshops world-wide. I want an adventure. I'm ready.

Style: Power
Teacher: Bryan Kest (DVD)
Studio: Home Practice.

Tonight I feel like staying in. I'm truly growing to love doing yoga at home, developing it into a personal practice. I own two yoga DVDs, a Yin and a Power, both taught by Mark Laham. While both are amazing, I want some diversity. Over beers at the Manx last night after yoga class, Mike coincidentally gave me two of his own videos. Ask and you shall receive.

As the Bryan Kest Power yoga DVD begins I time-travel back to 1995, to a world of synthesizers, spandex, Jheri curls and light blue cut-off jeans. It takes me a moment to get used to standing still in a room by myself with someone speaking to me through my laptop. As the video progresses and the choreography presents itself, I find myself getting into a groove, getting beyond my preconceived notions. Before I know it I'm sinking into my bed, powering down all systems for the night, utterly relaxed. With a tendency toward late-night yoga, it's amazing to be able to roll off my mat and under my covers, with no travel time between the studio and home.

Style: Power
Teacher: Mark Laham (DVD)
Studio: Home Practice

Going through my entire wardrobe with a fine tooth comb, I find myself onboard a time-machine. Item by item I'm organizing my life. I'm discovering clothing I wore in high school, outfits I wore in the years after that, when I lived in Montreal. Each neglected item is tied to old memories, to moments long since past, and each memory in turn is attached to an array of emotion. The past plays out against my eyelids in a haze. Was that really me back then? Every scattered object has it's own unique vibration. Right now, all my belongings combine into a cacophonic symphony, obliviously playing out of key. The chaos they display resonates inside me, and in return I feel that same discord. Everything I never wear and no longer feel attachment to, I pack into boxes. Sometimes I find myself feeling hesitation parting with certain things, but I somehow manage to move on after a sentimental moment or two. I need to lighten my load, to make space for something more. I want to cling to nothing. Things become more organized and arranged, and I feel a lightness building from within. As I continue to make room in the world around me, I notice I have access to a more spacious internal world. All day I continue to eliminate any and all clutter. By the end, in the early evening, I feel like I'm in an altogether new home. The Feng Shui effect is no lie. Now that everything has it's own place a soothing balance hangs in the air. I feel a giddiness taking over, taking up the space previously occupied by debris. My floors have room to breathe, my walls have room to stretch. I can't help but notice the correlation between the clearing of house and the space gained within. Now that order is in place, an over-all design, a simplicity... my soul has room to breathe.

In the middle of cleaning I found my other previously misplaced DVD, Mark Laham's Power yoga. It's a sign, the Universe gesturing me to stay home and create a personal sanctuary. Accepting the challenge, I add the finishing touches to my living space, lighting candles and dimming the lights. Unrolling my mat now comes with a new feeling. I'm home, at last.

Style: Power
Teacher: Tania Fréchette
Studio: Santosha Elgin

Freedom is delicious. Waking up with no digital assistance, I rise with a yawn in the late morning sunshine. Fragrances of brewing coffee and sizzling bacon draw me out of bed and downstairs, ready to enjoy a long day off. Today, all time will be spent mastering the art of doing nothing.

Later in the crisp afternoon I'm feeling elated and free. My body is continuing to change its form. Soft curves have been tailored and tapered, set to a custom fit. I'm more flexible now then I've ever been, or then I ever thought I could be for that matter. I just feel so good in my own skin. The freedom of movement and the fullness of breath are luxurious. I feel firmly planted on the earth these days, with a balance I never knew. I stand taller now.

In my second Power class in two days, I'm taking the postures to new limits. My body is in a great mood, abiding all requests I make of it, inviting me into new territory. I sink and settle with new-found depth. My hips have always been the most painful and uncooperative, but today even they are letting go and melting like hot candle wax. Having been submerged in the practice of yoga for a while now, I'm finding it hard to imagine not taking some time every day to get centered and balanced in my own machine . My body is essentially my home, and as long as I am able to inhabit it I plan on catering to its design, keeping all systems functioning at their optimum levels.

Style: Power
Teacher: Mark Laham
Studio: Santosha Elgin

It's not about the positions. Last night Mark reiterated the same point many great yogis throughout history constantly stress. The actual physical asanas are less then 5% of what's transpiring in a yoga sequence. The most important is that which is invisible. Outside the spectral range of the human eye is where the real change is happening. This is a very foreign concept to the modern mind. In an action-oriented society the unseen is ignored.

The fact is no blinding light from God will shine down upon you from parted clouds once you master a posture. The asana is a tool, a technique which allows for the inner transformation. Even in all their complexity and diversity, the physical side of the practice is less important. Yoga is the science of the unseen. Every series of positions is like conducting an experiment in a lab using the scientific method. You follow a set procedure in order to hopefully arrive at a new understanding. It's a foray into the wilderness with a compass, plotting a course to new uncharted shores.

Blasted by my alarm clock early this morning, I caught myself imagining a day of teaching yoga instead of a day of work ahead of me. I have to admit, the idea of teaching has been in the back of my mind for a while, germinating and sprouting roots unnoticed. The nutrients of personal experience will no doubt tend to the seed of thought, and only time will tell when it will blossom and what fruit will end up on its vine. Back home in comfortable clothes with a cup of coffee, the idea of teaching is still hanging around me. Momentarily I'll be shutting my laptop and throwing my yoga bag over my shoulder yet again, setting off to the newly-discovered Santosha studio.

Style: Power
Teacher: Jacquie Davies
Studio: Rama Lotus

What is Power Yoga? The name itself always struck me as some sort of Americano-styled yoga led by an instructor wearing camo fatigues holding an AK-47 barking orders at his downward dogged soldiers. Or a butchered floozy watered-down North American adaptation of yoga. Maybe a less sincere materialistic ego-driven fitness approach? ...So what is Power Yoga?


The story goes that the term "power yoga" was first used in the mid 1990s, when several yoga teachers were looking for a way to make Ashtanga more accessible to western students. The essential difference is that power yoga does not follow a set series of poses, meaning that any power yoga class can be a completely different experience, but would still have the same emphasis on strength and flexibility, and can be credited with popularizing yoga, bringing it into the gyms of North America. People began to look at yoga as a way of working out as opposed to the chanting, Om-ing crystal ball stereotype at the time.

Today, in the afternoon sun I'm back at Rama Lotus in the Sky room. My mind is extraordinarily calm, in direct contrast with last night. Jacquie, our instructor, used to teach the Ashtanga class on Tuesday nights I frequently attended during the first challenge, the same class taught by Mike this year. Moving through the poses today is an absolute joy and before I know it, I'm unwinding with spinal twists, wringing out any remaining negative energy. The day has only just begun and I feel clear headed, awake, and in love with life.