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: Yin
Teacher: Louise Sattler
Studio: Rama Lotus

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

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

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

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

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

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: 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.

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.

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.

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."

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?

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.

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."

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.

Style: Ashtanga
Teacher: Michael Dynie
Studio: Rama Lotus

I'm going to Texas. I've never been, but tomorrow morning I'm scheduled to be on a flight to Austin. One of my yoga instructors, Ichih, is going to a workshop with her mentor, Baron Baptiste. A few weeks ago she told me about her trip and invited me to join. One of my favorite authors, Kurt Vonnegut, has a quote that came to mind: "Unexpected Travel Plans are dancing lessons from God." Not long ago I put out the intention that I was ready to do some international yoga travel, and the opportunity seems to have found me. In turn I've decided to accept. After all, who am I not to tie up my dancing shoes after an invitation from on high?

I don't know all that much about Mr. Baptiste. I do know that I am a huge fan of Power Vinyasa and Ichih's teaching style. I also know that Baron is very, very successful in the world of yoga, even considered a celebrity in some circles. While the notion of a celebri-yogi is a bit off-putting, Ichih holds him in high regard and that says a lot to me. I have nothing if not an open mind, and I told the Universe that I was ready for an adventure. I'm always prepared for a new experience. Getting into bed and setting my alarm for an early departure, I feel a tingling blend of excitement and nervous energy coursing through my body. I truly have no idea what to expect. Getting off the phone after scheduling a cab to pick me up at 5 am, I can't seem to fall asleep. My mind is reeling in anticipation. In a few short hours I'll be out of the country, headed deep into the southern United States. There is one thing I know for sure. I'm ready.

Style: Personal Sequence
Teacher: Self
Studio: Rama Lotus

And now for something completely different. Through a string of random coincidences I met Shawna, a friend of one of my instructors, Todd Lavictoire. She told me that she has a personal practice space at Rama Lotus on Wednesdays and she invited me to come join. She also happens to be a huge hip-hop fan and has her own customized playlist she likes to practice with. Waking up to a frigid morning in Montreal and brushing the snow off my car, I'm back on the highway once again, heading back to Ottawa. Arriving at Rama, I end up bumping into Todd, and the three of us make our way up to the Sky room.

In my last two teacher training weekends, Mark continued to emphasize the importance of a personal practice. At first it was a huge challenge to even unroll my mat outside of the group-class atmosphere. The reason it's so important is that, when it really comes down to it, the purpose of yoga is to embark on an internal journey, delving deep into your own consciousness and cultivating a comfort with that inner world. In a class setting, your attention is constantly bouncing from the inside to the outer-world, listening to the voice of your instructor as he explains the cues for the postures. Over the course of this challenge, I've been making a point of practicing at home more and more, following the choreography of various yoga DVDs. Now that I've been successful in that arena, there is another truth I've been completely avoiding. Practicing with a DVD, even though I'm alone with my mat, my attention is still focused outside myself as I follow the path the digital yogi sets out before me. My awareness is still drawn away. The thought of just unrolling my mat and facing a blank canvas, leading myself through a sequence I personally tailored is a leap I haven't wanted to make.

Today is my first step. Up in the Sky room, Shawna starts up the CD player and the three of us unroll our mats, entering into our own private domains for the next hour. Standing at the edge of my mat in Tadasana, my mind goes blank. I know that yoga poses exist, I know I've personally done quite a few myself, but right now I can't remember any of them for the life of me. Taking a deep breath, I start the only way I can - with some Sun salutations. Moving through the postures at my own pace, my own rhythm, I find myself slowly gaining an internal balance. Next I move into a Warrior sequence. After each set of postures I complete, I ask my body-consciousness what it would like to do next. Whatever position makes itself known to me, that's what I do. Over the weekend I remember Louise telling me that a lot of wisdom resides in the body, so I decide to simply trust that and let go. Sure enough, one pose leads to the next, and before I know it I'm free-styling my way through my own personal asana choreography.

It is also my first time practicing to Hip-Hop and R&B. I have never done Warrior II listening to On To The Next One or balanced in Dancer's pose to the sounds of Hard, but to tell you the truth, it worked. The sequence I designed on the spot was surprisingly cohesive and well-rounded. It felt right. Headstand, Camel, Bridge, Triangle, my body led the way and I willingly followed. Coming out of my last spinal twists to the haunting strings and piano keys of Dreamworld, I roll back into Savasana and drift away into the ethers.

Style: Hot
Teacher: Michael Dynie
Studio: Ottawa Yoga

Pulling up in front of Rama Lotus under the beautiful, blazing sunshine, I take in a deep, euphoric breath and step out of my car. I proceed to take three steps, and suddenly I feel a rusty blade tear through my chest, ripping a ragged gash across my heart. I locked my keys in my car. They're still in the ignition. My car is still running.

I feel my blood come to a boil, then it begins to curdle. Every inch of my being tenses up in frustration and rage. As I listen to the engine of my car purr mockingly at me, my inner dialogue mutates into a never-ending string of profanity. Every curse word I've ever heard, including a few I invented come raging through, spewing out black exhaust deep inside me. My teeth are clenched to the point where my jaw is coming dangerously close to snapping. My fists are balled up and my knuckles are bone-white. I'm tempted to grab a two-by-four from the construction yard across the street and smash in my windows, maybe just let loose on my car altogether until it looks like a crushed tin can. Fury spins me around in circles at a dizzying pace. I want to wage war on the entire world. All the while streams of relaxed yogis flow gracefully one by one into the studio while I stand outside watching, hating them all. Oh and my cellphone is in the car. Great.

As some more time passes I abandon my God-forsaken car and walk up the street, looking for a payphone. Halfway around the block I find a phone booth and feed it a few quarters. How the hell did I do this. I call my buddy Jakob, and fifteen minutes later he meets me with a coat hanger and a fork. Um... okay... whatever works! Luckily, my car is ridiculously easy to break into and a few tense minutes later we're in. By now Ichih's Yin class is well underway, and I'm on my way back home, having accomplished nothing, other then sending my blood pressure skyrocketing out of control. Yin is definitely not going to cut it today. I need to burn this self-inflicted turmoil away with something more powerful. In the meantime, I start to realize how absurd my reaction was. I completely plunged into the deep-end, absolutely obliterating my progress and taking ten steps back. I close my eyes, sinking into a meditation, practicing a few pranayama breathing techniques. Soon order is slowly returned to my internal government, all arguing and hatred slowly subsiding and fizzling out. The frustration I endured felt like an internal chemical toxic-waste spill, contaminating my whole nervous system. I'm taken aback at how easy it was to lose control, how fast I went from bliss to a near-murderous rampage. Like a reflex, a knee-jerk reaction I threw everything I've worked so hard for out the window. At the very least it's a lesson, one I've been tested on and failed over and over again. I think I'm slowly getting the point though. I can't let outside circumstances regulate the balance of my internal climate. I need to maintain composure at all costs. The bottom line is, things could get a lot more intense then being locked out of my car, and I need to be prepared to keep calm. I'm learning, I'm paying attention. I'll figure it out eventually. I got this.

Style: Somayog
Teacher: Richard Hudspith
Style: Rama Lotus

I haven't been sore the day after a yoga class for a long, long time. Today however my body feels more like the morning after a two-six and an ass-kicking. Sitting hurts, crouching hurts, walking hurts... as a matter of fact, anything I do with my body is painful today. Yesterday's Yang side of things really wrung me out. In all sadistic honesty I love the feeling. It's my body letting me know I traveled to new territory, working out the kinks in brand new ways. Or at least that's what I've been trying to convince myself all day at work, begging my beat-up body to follow my commands.

Looking over the schedule at Rama Lotus, I realize with delight that the planets must be precisely aligned, parting the seas and customizing a perfect remedy; Somayog. Having only tried the style once as an admitted skeptic, I found the experience to be truly rehabilitating. Tonight turns out to be no different. Somayog is all about developing sensory motor awareness. The movements are incredibly subtle and delicate, focusing heavily on posture refinement and body alignment. As we move through the sequence under the dim lights of the Crystal room, I feel myself coming back together and gelling. The timing couldn't have been more fortunate. Walking outside into the balmy night air sipping coconut water, I can't believe I'm actually operating the same body I was in two hours ago. I feel brand new. All the tension that had cemented itself throughout the course of the day has completely disappeared and dissipated. I'm back.

Style: Yin/Yang
Teacher: Guy Tardif
Studio: Rama Lotus

Waking up this morning, I had to check the calender to make sure that I hadn't slept through two months. No, it's still March. The world outside says otherwise, looking like a gorgeous sunny day in mid-May. I realize yoga is all about detachment, but there's nothing I can do about it. I'm completely attached to this warm weather. Please don't go.

Out under the baby-blue skies, listening to the birds chirping with delight, I'm sharing in their enthusiasm and basking in the beauty of the world around me. With all my windows rolled down, my speakers turned all the way up, I'm on my way to Rama Lotus for a two-hour Yin/Yang extravaganza. There is a freedom inherent in the Yin/Yang style and today turns out to be a very unique version. We pulse and throb in and out of every pose, fluidly deepening the postures in a way that is new for me. The sequence starts out very Yang and breaks down nicely, degenerating into the healing Yin positions. All the while the Sun is beaming in through the windows, splashing across me and my mat. Sunshine is such an incredibly rejuvenating, life-providing phenomena and I feel like a photosynthesizing plant, absorbing the nutrients and vitality. By the end my spirits are taller then the Himalayas, towering at such great heights and showing no sign of landing any time soon.

Style: Yin
Teacher: Mark Laham
Studio: Rama Lotus

After a long day I'm feeling physically, mentally and emotionally drained. The Sun has set in the horizon and the stars are starting to pierce through the dark quilt of night one by one. I'm on the road heading toward Rama Lotus for some friendly reconfiguration. As soon as I find myself a piece of floor in the Earth room and settle in, the class is off to a start. Tonight we'll be focusing intensively on hips. After only a few seconds into the first pose I realize I have quite the challenge laid out before me. My body is tight and stiff, responding sluggishly like it's been in a deep freeze for a few hours. Tonight more than ever before I am aware of the emotional storage capabilities inherent in my connective tissues, especially in my hips. After a few short emotionally-charged days, I can blatantly see its effect on my body. It's the best example yet, and I find myself mentally scanning and studying my physical makeup in detail, learning just how much energy I harbour inside. I realize that more than anything, I need to be gentle with myself and respect the state I'm in. I take things slow, settling into positions only as far as I am able to, doing my best to hold back comparisons of where I was last week or how much deeper I was able to take the poses in the past. By the end of the class I feel a freeing sense of lightness, understanding more and more how much truth there is in the concept of Yoga as medicine. No prescriptions necessary.

Style: Ashtanga
Teacher: Michael Dynie
Studio: Rama Lotus

There's nothing like the internal fire built during an Ashtanga sequence. Feeling the inferno raging through my veins, cleansing and detoxifying my blood, I'm basking in the sensation of being fully alive.

Today at Rama Lotus in the Sky room, I'm working on the subtleties of the practice. My drishti, my gaze, is responding to my control with ease. More so then ever before I'm able to hold my focused attention on a single point and leave it there. Little by little, with a small amount of effort applied every day, the progress is tangible. Where our eyes are directed, our attention follows, and our attention is the most important thing we have. It's the source of all our power, the starting point for creation.

Another aspect of Ashtanga I was able to incorporate tonight is the concept of the bandhas. A bandha is an inner lock, or bind. I've often heard instructors speak of them, but I had never been able to cultivate it into my practice until today. The specific lock I was able to integrate is known as the Mūla Bandha, often used in the the Ashtanga practice. The Sanskrit term Mūla denotes "root" or "base", and is engaged at the root of the spine. More precisely, it's at the centre of the pelvic floor called the perineum. By slightly contracting this muscle-tissue, an energetic seal is created that is said to lock prana into the body and prevent it from leaking out at the base of the spine.

As the raging fires within begin to die down and I sink into savasana, I feel the deepest, most blissful relaxation begin to set in. True relaxation has to be earned. Relaxation is not synonymous with laziness. If you are lazy, you have no access to true relaxation. You need to apply yourself. You need to work hard. Giving as much of yourself as you can, giving your strongest efforts and most fiery passion, this is the doorway to the deepest most freeing sense of relaxation. This is what truly makes the yogic experience so worthwhile. It's time to reap those benefits as my head sinks into my pillow, overcome with appreciation as my consciousness withdraws itself from my physical shell.

Style: Kundalini
Teacher: Siri Karm Kaur
Studio: Rama Lotus

The first time I went to a Kundalini yoga class I felt like I'd wandered into an alternate dimension. It's every bizarre, wacky yoga stereotype you've ever heard. It's that weird. At least, that's how I felt at the time. Since the last challenge, I have yet to take a Kundalini class. I'd like to say it's because I've been so focused on other methods I haven't had the chance, but when I boil it down I know I've been avoiding it. From my minimal exposure to the style, it strikes me as a yoga in a world of it's own, distinctly different then anything else. However, the more I learn about the world around me, its history and its mysteries, I've come to the realization that nothing is too weird. Truth is often stranger then fiction.

Today marks my third Kundalini class ever, and to be honest I still can't explain it. Today I did my best to arrive with a clear, open mind. The movements are quick, jerky, spastic in nature. The breath work is short, gasping, almost bordering on hyperventilating at times. There is a lot of chanting and singing, sometimes dancing. It's strange. Kundalini devotees often wear flowing white robes and head-wraps.

From what I understand, Kundalini energy resides within everyone, described as pure creative potential, inner knowledge, awareness and evolved consciousness. It is conceptualized as a coiled serpent lying dormant at the base of the spine. Once this energy is awakened it begins to rise up the spinal cord, activating different chakras and bringing with it new insights and understanding, eventually bursting through the top of your head and connecting you with the cosmos. Whoa. I'm actually at a loss for words. It's so fringe, so different... I haven't fully digested it. Not even close. Some preliminary online research unearthed talk of adverse effects from prematurely or suddenly awakened Kundalini energy, described as a "spiritual emergency". I'll admit it, I'm bewildered. I think to truly form an opinion on the style I need more exposure to it. Over the next few weeks it's my intention to mix in a few more sessions while at the same time researching deeper into its history. The best I can do for now is leave you with words from the closing song that have been stuck in my head on repeat since I left the studio. May the long time Sun shine upon you, all love surround you, and the pure light within you, guide your way on. Word.

Style: Yin
Teacher: Abe Cartland
Studio: Rama Lotus

Somehow sleeping through my alarm, I lazily awaken to the realization that I've slept through half a day of school. Before I'm even fully awake, I'm dashing around like a psychopath tripping over myself, trying to gather my things and get dressed and eat something and study simultaneously. And then suddenly I'm aware. What am I doing? Dropping all my things to the ground, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Chill. It's not the end of the world. As I feel my heartbeat and temperature slowly returning to normal, I decide that I'm not in such a rush after all. The planet is still gently rotating through Space, the birds are chirping, the Sun shining and the snow melting. It's all good. Instead of burning rubber out into the jungle of concrete and machinery, I take the moment to go into a meditation. Closing my eyes and crossing my legs, I fill my lungs with oxygen, then slowly release it. I begin to quiet my mind, letting the thoughts slow their frantic pace. Focusing my attention on my breath, I spend the next fifteen minutes undoing all the stress that had bombarded and besieged my psyche moments ago. When I open my eyes, I'm grounded and clear-minded. Let's try this again.

Later in the day I'm at Rama Lotus, decompressing further in a Yin class. All of a sudden I'm reminded of words from Mark over the weekend. He recommended that we do a little less yoga in the week after the teacher training, instead taking the opportunity to rest. He also recommended doing more at home then in a studio. While there are strong benefits to be gained from the studio experience, your awareness is still focused on the external world around you. Practicing alone at home is powerfully conducive to personalized introspection. Overall however, he also said that the overriding authority should be your own body, stressing the importance of self-study and understanding. The fact is, I've started the ninety day challenge and there is no turning back whatsoever. It's definitely the Pitta aspects of my personality that are encouraging me to continue at all costs. I'm a stubborn child who wont take no for an answer. Finding somewhat of a compromise, I've decided to concentrate on relaxing, rejuvenating styles of yoga for this week.