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.

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...

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: 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.

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: 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.

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: 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.