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Teacher interview: Norman Blair

Norman Blair is one of the UK’s leading yin yoga teachers and has been teaching in London for over ten years. His monthly yin workshops at Globe House in Bermondsey are wonderful and leave you floating for at least three days after you leave the building (speaking from personal experience).

Norman kindly took the time to answer some questions.

CW: Tell me about your first yoga class.

NB: My first class was at Bodywise East London and a friend took me as she thought it would be good for me. I don’t really remember much about the class but what I do remember is that my friend, who I’m still in touch with, thinks it’s funny that I now teach yoga. She says that she’d never seen anyone as stiff or uncoordinated as me. There I was then… and here I am now!

I know there’s teachers who come from a place where they’re naturally really gifted in their bodies, but I really wasn’t one of them. It can be an asset to experience stiffness, a lack of coordination, difficulty with body parts and injuries. It allows you to see how much potential there is for change.

I went to those classes in East London for a bit, and then in 1993 a friend of mine called Oz was doing an Iyengar teacher training and needed her own group. I volunteered and over the next five years we’d meet in her living room on a regular basis.

Oz then went to Crete in 1995 to spend time with Radha and Pierre – John Scott’s teachers – and came back with an ashtanga practice. I remember sitting in her living room while she did a demo of the primary series. It was really intense – watching this small woman demonstrate such control, flow and grace. After that, I was hooked. I’ve been practicing ashtanga ever since and I also get a lot from Iyengar classes with Alaric Newcombe.

What I’ve learnt though is that less is more. People get confused with ashtanga and think that it’s all fast and intense but what’s the rush? Pattabhi Jois said, “you take it slowly”. We just need to slow down. One class a week is fine. I did that for five or six years.

I first encountered yin yoga at the Manchester Buddhist Centre in November 2001. It was unlike anything I’d experienced and the next year I met Sarah Powers. She’s been my yin teacher ever since.

CW: How do you describe yin yoga to someone who’s unfamiliar with the practice?

NB: It’s a very soft, slow form of yoga. It gives us time to be more gentle to ourselves. It’s a perfect antidote to the rest of our lives which are often spent chasing around.

One of my favourite lines is from Pico Iyer: “The mind is more than capable of seeing a stationary blue car and constructing out of it a six-act melodrama.” I know that’s true of me.

But yin gives us a chance to slow down. It gives us the chance to take our time. It gives us the chance to create space where we can be more aware of how distracted we can be.

I’d also say that yin is a potential bridge between western yoga classes and a more meditative practice. We need to stop and slow down. It’s so important.

Personally speaking, yin has really helped to open my body but what I would say is that people who are hyperflexible need to be cautious in yin as there’s no strengthening work. Just because you can go deeply into a pose doesn’t mean you’re ‘good’ at yin.

But it’s really helped to open my body. It helps that I love it as well.

CW: How does yin challenge you?

NB: By nature I’m fairly impatient and impetuous. To be still is hard. To maintain a level of attention is also a challenge. And to not get caught up comparing myself to someone else.

Norman and I.
Norman and I. His hand is less blurry in real life.

CW: How would you describe your teaching style?

NB: If someone’s really laid back in their everyday life, when it comes to their teaching, I wonder if they’re really up tight and like, “Do this! Do that!” Whereas in my normal life I’m quite focussed and impatient. I have the speedy London walk and I’m aware of the impact that’s had on my life.

As a result, when I’m teaching I’m all about taking it slowly, taking it easy. We have to let go of thinking, “I can’t do this…” or “I used to be able to do that…”

I encourage people approach their practice as “here I am right here in this body, right now as it actually is.”

Someone said to me that it’s about being firm but fair and I want to help people find their potential by using skillful effort. In western culture it’s all about striving for the goal and we push ourselves too hard. And there’s always more goals. Where does it end? We need to be gentle with ourselves whilst also applying a bit of a push.

We also need to be conscious of how each day is different. Some days we might need more of a push and, on others, we might just need to put our feet up on the sofa. It’s accepting that that’s ok. We have to just do what feel right with a level of skillful inquiry.

I like to think of myself as a conduit for helping people to find their potential.

Of course I still have lots to learn. I know I find it hard letting go of people. Sometimes people don’t come back to classes and sometimes I have to suggest to students that they need to go to another teacher.

For example, I’m half way through the second series and, being realistic, I’m probably not going to get much further. If there are students who are going beyond that, I can’t teach them asanas that I don’t practice myself. I’ve suggested before now that students go to Hamish Hendry. It’s hard but it’s right for them and I have to let go.

CW: How do you bring the practice of yoga into your everyday life?

NB: I feel that the word ‘yoga’ comes with baggage. I’m quite influenced by Michael Stone and he prefers to call it ‘intimacy’. Matthew Remski calls it ‘evolutionary movement’.

When someone’s doing a dance class, they can be far less striving and goal orientated than someone doing a yoga class. It’s about what we bring to the situation. It’s about working on ourselves and transformation.

We all live in this world but I feel we have to be conscious of the choices we make. I fly, for example. But I do believe in social transformation and the more aware we become of our inner landscape, the more conscious we can become about other people.

There was a book written about a Buddhist nun called Tenzin Palmo:  ‘A Cave in the Snow’ and she talked about how great it would be if when we meet people on the street, our first thought were: “may they be happy and well”. Not judging them on the way they look, or the clothes they’re wearing. Not thinking “I don’t like you” or “you remind me of so and so”.

Cave in the Snow by Vicki MacKenzie
Cave in the Snow by Vicki MacKenzie

It’s these unconscious conversations in our head. Part of the practice is becoming aware of these conversations and just seeing people and things for their natural beauty.

I also enjoy the practice of eating in silence. You just eat with no distractions – no TV, books or music. The food actually tastes better! You’ll eat more slowly, you’ll eat less, and you’ll become more satisfied.

I’ve also been thinking recently about the sustainability of my physical practice.  Is your practice sustainable? If we’re going to strive and sweat and grunt and groan, it could be debatable. It’s ok when you’re 25 but I turned 50 this year and I approach my practice very differently to ten years ago.

I’ve learnt a lot. I do it less. I do ashtanga 3-4 times a week and I love it. But I want to be able to do it in ten or 20 years’ time. I want my practice to be sustainable.

This practice of working on ourselves will continue until our last breath.

CW: What’s the best thing about teaching yoga?

NB: I remember when I started teaching, someone said to me: “Don’t give up your day job”. I took this on board and I said I’d give it six months and see if I could manage financially and also to see if I’d enjoy it. Fortunately, it went well and I continued.

I’m always looking to evolve how I teach and learn more about teaching. Continuity and consistency of teacher is important. We can learn so much by putting our nose to the grindstone and spending time with a specific teacher. We can learn so much by staying with a situation – it’s like a relationship with a partner. If you decide to give up after three months, what do you learn?

I’ve been going to Hamish Hendry’s ashtanga classes for 14 years, I’ve spent 12 years practicing yin with Sarah Powers. I’ve learnt a lot by sticking with teachers.

CW: If you didn’t spend your weeks teaching yoga, how else do you think you’d spend your time?

NB: Before I taught yoga, I did a variety of different things. I worked for a local authority, I worked on a fruit and veg stall in Spitalfields market. I’m not sure how I’d spend my time but I know I wouldn’t be so happy.

But you know, you’ve got to make the most of this life. Life is so short and precious. With my alliteration hat on, I’d say that I just teach the preciousness of life, the precariousness of life, and the parasympathetic nervous system…

CW: What makes you happy?

NB: A good book. The taste of food. Bouncing on trampolines. Being in my kitchen. Standing on the top of Parliament Hill Fields looking over London. Standing on my head. Simple stuff.

CW: What are you up to over the next few months?

NB: I’m very excited about a teacher training I’m starting at my new studio in North London with Melanie Cooper. We teach day workshops together and a few months ago we were doing one and everyone was lying in savasana and we thought that we could do it as a teacher training.

We work well together and it’s a nice balance – Melanie’s got a lot of experience teaching ashtanga and has run teacher trainings before. I’ve taught people how to teach yin on five-day intensives and yin is definitely needed in today’s world.

I also run supervision groups for yoga teachers. All psychotherapists have to go for supervision after qualifying and it’s the same with acupuncturists and other professions. It’s totally accepted.

But in yoga teaching, you do your training and then you’re set adrift. When I first started teaching, it would have been great to meet together with other teachers and share stuff.

Each group is closed and runs for six meetings over six months – no one new can join once it’s started, it’s confidential so we can express fears and dreams and the day-to-day difficulties and joys of teaching yoga. Also it’s a place we can bring up any issues with students. I think it’s a really important thing to get going. The first session is an introduction on Sunday 1 December where you can come along and have a chat and see if you’re interested.

The next yin intensive is 20-24 March 2014 and I’ve got various classes and workshops on the horizon too. So yeah, life rolls on…

CW: Thank you Norman.

NB: Thank you Clare.

 

If you’d like to find out more about Norman and his teaching, visit www.yogawithnorman.co.uk. I’m going to his next yin workshop in London Bridge on Saturday 30 November so I might see you there.

There’s more about my Hertfordshire and London yin classes and workshops on this website.

Norman Blair seated forward bend in a field
Norman in a field
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The force is strong with this one…

Last week I received an email offering me the opportunity to help on a yoga teacher training taking place in October in Northern India.

The email came from Lila Conway, a wonderful yogi who first taught me how to teach a few years ago in the Sivananda ashram in Uttarkashi in the Himalayas. We’ve stayed in touch and I even bumped into her in Kerala last November.

The course will be wonderful. Based at the Yoga Niketan Ashram on the bank of the Ganga in Rishikesh, it will be four weeks full of devotion, fun and hard work. It’ll be a memorable and life-changing experience. I thought long and hard about whether to accept such an incredible opportunity.

I declined. On this occasion it doesn’t work with other commitments I’ve got at home in October. I know we can make it work another time and I know this will be the first of many that she’ll run. If you’d like to find out more, visit www.yogaprema.org.

But what is it about the pull of India? I was talking to a friend the other day who came back around the same time as me last December. She’s returning later this month – for how long, she’s not sure.

I know I’ll be back. If not October then perhaps at Christmas. India is an addiction. It does your head in, assaults you in every possible way but she’ll win your heart and you’ll keep going back for more.

Another yoga friend came back to the UK a month ago and, like me, she’s considering whether life in London is for her. She’s turning her back on a stressful job and instead wanting to do work that makes her happy. She wants to rent out her high rise flat in East London and move somewhere a bit more green.

It’s nice to know that I’m not alone in my thinking. Staying connected to my practice will keep me grounded until I book that flight…

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Goodbye Thailand’s islands

As I write this I’m on the upper berth of a clattery night train heading out of Bangkok to Chiang Mai in the north of Thailand. There’s a Chinese couple on the bunks below and we’re desperate for the sheets and blankets to be given out as the air conditioning is so fierce. Around us, I can hear various languages being spoken – Thai, Chinese and the unmistakable drawl of Australian English. And now a knowledgeable Yank has piped up: ” I rode these trains before and they don’t know how to turn the air-con off. Like, at all.”

This marks the end of over two months loving the islands and beaches of Thailand. Today I said goodbye to my sister on Koh Samui. We’ve had over two weeks sunning ourselves up the east coast of Koh Phang An.

In my previous blog post, I talked about our experience at The Sanctuary and from there we travelled on this little almost dead ferry up to Thong Nai Pan Noi. It sputtered up onto the beach and we stayed in some bungalows next to what Tripadvisor calls the number one choice of accommodation on the island. We learnt that no beach looks nice in the rain, but it can look a bit better when you’re sipping a sneaky smoothie at the Anantara. Boutique chic eat your heart out. Each seafront villa had its own plunge pool… and intercom. The area in between the villas was so beautifully landscaped – think foot bridges, palms and koi carp. Yes, we had a good old nose about. My sister could review hotels for a living.

Then the sun came out and we felt compelled to stay for almost a week.

I also managed to secure my first bit of freelance yoga writing work so I’ve been spending time typing away whilst looking at beautiful turquoise sea. Much better than a desk in Whitehall.

We risked life and limb by getting back on the almost dead ferry to travel back down to the southern tip of the island, just close to the place famed for full moon parties – Had Rin. Thankfully we missed the party but I’ve still managed to see enough neon to last a life time. T-shirts, sunglasses, shorts, even a sign on our bungalow door saying ‘if floresant paint on sheet pay 600 baht’.

We stayed in a rickety bungalow perched precariously on the side of rocks overlooking crashing waves and, in the distance, Koh Samui. It felt like the end of the world.

And then onto Koh Samui for one night. On the island I pointed out every sight that was ever-so-slightly related to my teacher training:

“We ate on this beach one night!”
“We set off lanterns from right here!”
“I bought your ripped-off Muppets DVD from this stall!”

I would like to formally take this moment to apologise to Katharine for being a yoga teacher training bore. She was very understanding and made all the right noises.

I was sad to say goodbye to Kaths. We travel well together. I’d get up early to do my yoga practice and then we’d see each other at breakfast. We’re both very happy to spend time sitting relaxing although I’m much more of a shade-seeker than her. We’d have a dip in the sea, then lie to dry off. It’s a tough life. She’s off home to London in two days’ time but I’ll be seeing her and the parents in Kerala in November.

Anyway, I’m on my way to Chiang Mai in order to do a two-week Thai massage course. I’m intrigued and I’ll let you know how I get on.

Oh and we now have blankets! And I’ve had the opportunity to remember how challenging it is to use a squat toilet on a moving train! Night night sleep tight.

Clackety clack… clackety clack… clackety clack…

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Teacher training: Stumpy thumbs and yoga… NEW RESEARCH!!

thumbnail of our thumbnailsI am delighted to introduce a co-contributor, Laurie Brockhaus, for this very special and exclusive blog post. Laurie and I have recently made some yoga discoveries. Here we provide you with our ground-breaking research findings.

Last week on our teacher training course we were blessed to spend five days with Carlos Pomeda. We learnt about texts and learnings that are essential to yoga including the Bhagavad Gita and the Upanishads. Carlos shared some of the folk stories from the ‘Mahabarata’ or ‘The great story of India’.

He also talked us through the Hatha Yoga Pradipika – an important text that mentions the term ‘asana’ meaning a seated meditation posture, and ‘mudras’. Mudras are energy locks in the body and traditionally refer to mula bandha (a tightening of the pelvic floor), uddiyana bandha (a lock in the thoracic back), and jalandara bandha (chin lock). However, more generally, a mudra can be described as a gesture that often involves the hands and fingers.

Through further in-depth research, we have discovered a new mudra, known simply as thummudra. The mudra is characterised by bringing the four fingers in towards the palm and strongly engaging the thumb in an upward fashion. It is used by people with toe thumbs or Brachydactyly type D and draws more prominence to the feature. Thummudra helps toe-thumbed individuals draw more prana (vital energy) into the body and harness their personal power.

Below you will find a series of images showing how the mudra can be incorporated into a range of classical asanas. You will also find further information on the Indian folk legend that inspired the mudra.

Use of thummudra in asanas

Navasana (boat pose) gains more buoyancy with thummudra
Extend strongly through heels and toe thumbs in Upavistha Konasana (wide-angle seated forward bend)
In the standard version of Utthita Hasta Padangustasana (extended hand-to-big-toe pose), the drishti (gaze) is to the big toe. When thummudra is incorporated, the drishti is to the toe thumb.
Thummudra increases the fierceness of Warrior II
A wider thumb in a wide-legged forward fold (Prasarita Padottanasana)
Simple seated meditation incorporating thummudra


Thumbvritta and her thousand stumpy thumbs

Here is the Indian legend that inspired the thummudra. As with many old Indian folk stories, its exact date of origin is unknown but it was probably being told around the same time that Shakespeare was writing in England.

The beautiful and clever Thumbvritta was well known in her Indian village for being the child who spent her days imagining and writing brilliant stories that entertained her family, friends and neighbours. As she grew up, she wanted nothing more than to pursue her love of writing by dedicating her life to studying with talented storywriting elders in the village.

Alas, perhaps due to an accumulation of bad karma in a previous life (or just the tradition of the time), at the age of 16 she was forced into an arranged marriage and had to accept her fate of service to her new husband’s family. This severely diminished Thumbvritta’s time for writing due to all the chores her evil tyrant mother-in-law expected her to do. She was always the first up in the morning and spent her days chopping, scrubbing, washing… her work was never done.

But she could not suppress her urge to write. Late at night, she would sneak from her husband’s bed and steal away to a small dark corner of the kitchen to draft her brilliant stories by ghee candlelight. One night, having grown quite exhausted from her chores, she fell asleep with biro in hand (yes, India has always been ahead of the game regarding writing implements). Early next morning, her demanding mother-in-law was shocked to discover her sleeping, rather than preparing the lentil dhal.

In a fit of rage she picked up a heavy iron pan and slammed it down on Thumbvritta’s right thumb. Thumbvritta screamed in pain and ran away from her husband’s home, determined to never go back. She ran the entire day until she finally collapsed in exhaustion alongside the sacred Ganga river. She allowed her throbbing thumb to rest in the cool water and feared that her thumb’s misshapen form would prevent her from writing. The healing waters of Ganga Ma stroked her injured thumb throughout the night and into the morning.

Thumbvritta awoke to find that not only was she no longer in pain, but she had grown a thousand (stumpy) thumbs, each glowing with the golden light of thousands of unwritten stories.

To this day, despairing people from all over the world visit the site on the Ganges where Thumbvritta grew her thousand thumbs. They wish to gain inspiration in finding a new path and to realise that personal power comes in unexpected forms. They also wish they had stumpy thumbs. Clare and Laurie are really lucky to have them.

Disclaimer: Please contact Laurie and Clare directly for academic references (we’ll cobble some guff together and send it to you).

Read Clare’s previous post about when she and Laurie realised they both had stumpy thumbs.

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Teaching training: balancing our emotions

Tomorrow we have our last day off before our teacher training course finishes next week. It’s been a busy week with five days of Carlos Pomeda teaching us yoga philosophy and he’s made the subject fun and engaging.

Physically and emotionally however, we’re all struggling. People who have come with pre-existing injuries are listening carefully to Michel and Rosalyn each morning as they practice individually modified versions of the Ashtanga sequence. Trips to the chiropractor have been numerous. I’ve generally been ok – my lower back’s been niggling and my knee’s playing up slightly but nothing really to write home (or blog) about.

Warrior III (from Yoga Journal)

However, the past two mornings I’ve found tears running down my face in standing balancing postures. It’s not necessarily that they hurt, but I find them challenging with my externally rotated (read ‘penguin’) feet and my internally rotated knees. We did a much shorter, led class yesterday and Michel had us in Warrior III. I was trying desperately to engage all the muscles in my legs but I was swaying all over the place. Instantly, tears fell from my eyes and splattered onto my mat. People are so red-faced and in their own worlds in class, I doubt anyone noticed.

But two days in a row? I think it’s because I don’t feel grounded or safe. I feel unbalanced and it freaks me out. I talked to Michel and he said that of course I would find them hard with my alignment. “They will get easier,” he said knowingly. Yoga brings our emotions closer to the surface and tears spring forth readily.

Mitch, my comrade from Mitchigan (sic) in the US, also wrote about the emotion of yesterday morning’s class. Read his blog post here. We came to the conclusion that you were the odd one out if you didn’t cry in that class.

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Teacher training: Rihanna and the ladyboys

You know how you can have too much of a good thing? I can hear you saying how you wouldn’t mind spending five weeks in a swanky resort in Thailand, jumping into the infinity pool when things get too stressful. But more recently between classes I’ve been retiring to my air conditioned room and collapsing on the bed. Thirty minutes later I can be heard muffling into my pillow, “Is it really time to move again?”

With only one more week to go, we’re tired and cabin fever has crept in. Now I don’t want you to think that I’m moaning but sometimes an escape is required. And that’s exactly what happened last night. After dinner, myself, Rachel (who loves musicals as much as me) and Pearl (previously described as Thai and huggy. This still applies.) bundled into Pearl’s car and zoomed off down the drive.

We made the ten-minute journey to Chaweng singing Rihanna at the top of our lungs. An hour earlier I’d led the group in chanting the Gayatri mantra. Versatility is a yogi’s middle name.

As we drove down the main drag of Chaweng I felt overwhelmed. Our cocoon is so sattvic – peaceful, healthy food, no alcohol, inoffensive lift music accompanying our mealtimes – wheareas Chaweng at night is brash and in your face.

Taxis and scooters vied for space on the road. We passed a McDonalds, a Burger King and a Haagen Das. The electricity cables for the entire street hanged precariously above us between lamposts. Bars and restaurants’ neon signs flashed uninvitingly and glamourous women encouraged Westerners to enter some seriously dodgy-looking clubs. Hang on a minute… those women are men! Ridiculously high heels, immaculate make-up, long toned legs and tiny sparkly dresses. They suggestively stroked their well-conditioned dark hair. They looked amazing. “This is Thailand baby!” says Pearl. “Everyone happy and welcome here!”

Western tourists looked all dolled up for a night on the town after a day in the sun. I was just looking for a massage after a day on the mat. I found a place and opted for a Thai massge with tiger balm. Now I don’t know if you’ve ever had a massage in Thailand but the little cubicle where you have your massage is a bit like being on a hospital ward. There’s a curtain around the raise platform and you can hear – but never see – what’s going on next door. This can be amusing. The other day I had an Aussie couple nearby:

Aussie lady to partner: ” Oh she’s wondering what the deal is with your mesh.”
Aussie man to Thai masseuse: “Ah it’s where a bit pops out?”
[Thai girl giggles]
Aussie man tries again: “Err do you understand ‘hernia’?”
[More giggles]
Aussie lady: “I don’t think she understands.”

I never had the chance to see their faces but I think I know more than enough about him.

So I had an hour of back cracking, gentle pummelling and I came out smelling like a pot of Vicks vaporub. It was great. After, I was sitting drinking my cup of herbal tea in the reception watching the female staff chatting with the receptionist. Lo and behold, one of the masseuses was a bloke, as was the receptionist. As I left, my masseuse was standing on the doorstep ready to say goodbye. I had a good look and she was definitely female.

The three of us drove home accompanied by Rihanna and I came back to find Catherine sitting in bed calling me a dirty old stop out. She’d spent the evening chatting on Skype and looking at the pictures of Prince Harry. We were in bed by 10pm but I just kept thinking about being under my umbrella-ella-ella-eh-eh-eh-eh.

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Teacher training: Yin Yoga

We’ve just finished five days of Yin Yoga with Yogi Nora and it’s been a funny old week.

The classes were great – two hours of complete bliss doing a handful of poses aimed at increasing our flexibility by holding for anything between three and 20 minutes.

In Yin, you use bolsters and blankets to feel supported and there’s little emphasis on alignment. The poses work on stretching the body’s tendons and ligaments and, by holding for extended periods of time, you’re safely working to open these connective tissues. You breathe through your abdomen and there’s no mention of mula bandha. It all felt much more familiar to me than the regimented exertion of Ashtanga. Nora warned us the practice was very deep – opening both physically and mentally and the experience was emotional for many of us. 

In the first afternoon session Nora talked about the principles behind the practice – one of which is about how you shouldn’t engage your muscles. This was totally at odds with the anatomy that the ninja Michelle Lam taught us a few weeks ago –  ie the only way to avoid injury is by engaging all your muscles as if your life depended on it. Many on the course have pre-existing injuries and were wary/sceptical of Nora’s teachings. This clip from Paul Grilley explains the theory of Yin well.

I was trying to stay open and positive as I was enjoying her classes despite her use of words such as “crotch” and “gut” and phrases including “you need to lift like a mother, man”. But maybe I’m being a reserved Brit.

As the week progressed, we played tag as we each taught different poses to the rest of the class. It’s a different ballgame when there’s little to say about alignment. Our goal was to keep students focused in the poses without letting them die, man. We read spiritual quotes, invented meditations, encouraged them to “let it all hang out” and “inhaling and then exhaling blurrrrghhh…blurrrghh…blurrrrghhhhhhh”. Drooling on the mat is totally ok in the world of Yin.

Yesterday, four of us missed her final class. Lovely Abu Dhabi Debbie’s stepmum died unexpectedly and Lucy was mugged by two guys on a scooter on the road outside the resort. The other two were visiting the chiropractor. Morale is quite low but Michel and Rosalyn have been marvellous offering hugs and support to those in need.

We ended our five-day week by Michel showing us the film Siddhartha, an Indian spiritual Ben Hur, and I loved it. Watch a trailer here:

Siddhartha eventually gains enlightenment working as a ferryman taking people across a river. Over breakfast today I discussed the film’s messages with Michel and he talked about how whichever way we try and row our boat, the current will always take us in the correct direction. We can go against the flow, but it’ll get us in the end. Things happen because they’re meant to happen and it’s what we learn from the experiences that’s important. We also discussed our love of cats and that was nice too.

Has anyone else done Yin? Any thoughts? I’d like to include Yin in my personal practice and teach it on my return home.

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Teacher training: Madonna inspires Sanskrit chanting

An ashtanga class normally starts with an opening mantra chanted by the teacher. Michel’s been leading the chant each morning but he now wants us to take turns.

Mitch did a sterling job this morning and, as Michel gazed around the room looking for the next victim, his eyes met mine. “Clare, how do you fancy volunteering for tomorrow?” I wasn’t totally sure that that was how the concept of ‘volunteering’ worked but I dutifully accepted. I’m turning to youtube for help as Michel is certainly no Krishna Das (read a previous post about his chanting).

Anyway, I wanted to share these clips with you just so you can see what I’ve got to work with.

Guruji himself, Sri Pattabhi Jois, opens a class:

 

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…. some yogis tried to learn a Sanskrit chant. We also have the Star Wars version:

 

A nice, sensible karaoke version:

 

And finally, the Madonna version! I would so love to do this version tomorrow morning. I’m thinking backing singers, dancers, the full monty.. well erm, not quite the full monty. It might be a bit early for that sort of behaviour but we will be scantily clad. There’s no sign of baggy, loose fitting clothing here.

 

And I’m pretty sure I spotted a Madonna/Britney mash-up rajasic version in the search results somewhere…

Anyway, think of me tomorrow morning at about 7.30am Thai time. That’s 1.30am UK time. I expect you to set your alarms.

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Teacher training: one week down, four more to go!

Well I’ve survived my first week of my 500 hour teacher training. It hasn’t been easy and I’ve certainly been challenged. Here are some of the highlights/key points:

Michel Besnard
Think Clint Eastwood as he is now. But French. Mischievous blue eyes that glint when he’s being cheeky. According to Ayumu (Japanese, this is her second course with him), he’s currently being gentle with us. That’s a scary thought.

He’s a sucker for British comedy and loves Ricky Gervais and The Think of It. He quotes Fawlty Towers over breakfast and Allo Allo during class: [adopt French accent] “Leeeesen very carefoooly… I will say zis only wunce…”

As I’ve mentioned already, he seems to like prodding and slapping bottoms and probably rightly says that he’d get sued if he taught in the States. He has taught all over the world and spent years with Iyengar and Sri Pattabhi Jois. I’ve never met anyone as knowledgeable about yoga poses and he’s so humble. I think this is my favourite line of his so far: “Eeef anyone ever tries to keees ma feet, I tell dem to fack off.”

Rosalyn, his Chinese girlfriend and glamorous teaching assistant, is the bendiest person I’ve ever met. They’re a great double act.

Ashtanga
We’re being trained so that by the end of the course, we’ll go away with an Ashtanga self practice comprising the primary series with the odd bit of the second series thrown in to provide balance. We’re all at different levels. Some people, like me, have hardly done any Ashtanga whilst others would scare my Dad.

I’m learning that the practice is truly beautiful. It’s so graceful. I’m also now aware of the benefits of a Mysore style class. We all do the set poses in sequence at our own pace. Michel and Rosalyn walk around the room giving adjustments and reminding us of the next posture when we forget.

Learnings
I’ve learnt so much already and much is contradictory to Sivananda and other styles of yoga. As Michel says, we’ll do what he says for the next five weeks and then take away what we want – a lot of it makes a lot of sense though. Some of his teachings:

  • Mula bandha (pelvic floor to you and me): “Are you engaging your mula bandha?” If I had a Baht for every time I’ve heard that this week I’d be able to… erm… buy a banana.
  • Breathing into your abdomen? Forget it! How can you engage your mula bandha if you do that?!
  • Move the flesh away from your buttocks? That’s how you stretch your hamstrings beyond their capacity. Instead, roll the flesh away from your thighs, moving it upwards.
  • You think you know how to do Warrior I and II/Camel/Utkatasana/Sarvangasana/[insert name of almost any other pose]? You’re doing it wrong!!

It’s been a steep but amazing learning curve and we’ve all been put on the spot.

Utthita hasta padangustasana
Utthita hasta padangustasana (image from Yoga Journal)

The S.I. sisters
Lucy and I are in the special needs corner. Lucy is from Atlanta and enjoys DJ-ing when not teaching. Michel and Rosalyn are so astute. On day one they noticed that we both had problems with upward dog as we have sacro-iliac joint problems. We were given a modified practice. For sun salutations and vinyasa sequences we replace the troublesome dog with sphinx -> childs pose -> downward dog. We miss out utthita hasta padangustasana as we work our way through the standing poses. It’s about doing the poses in a way that suits your body and accepting ourselves as we currently are.

The resort
We’re very comfortable here with our air-con and our laundry service. I would probably go as far as to say that it feels a bit sterile and you could forget that you’re in Thailand. I haven’t seen one milipede.

But the pool and steam room are going down a treat after dinner most days. Chris (6ft 3in blonde haired, blue eyed Swede) has had his underwater camera out and we’ve been larking about practicing asanas in the pool. Another learning: no-one looks attractive in underwater photos.

Laughter yoga
We did this on the last day of the module with Michel. He  had us all going “haaaa haaaaa heee hee” whilst clapping at each other in a slightly demented fashion. Pearl (Thai and very huggy) clamped the sides of her face with her hands to prevent laughter lines/crow’s feet. Pearl was funnier than the laughter yoga.

The schedule
We’re in our Mysore class for 7am until 9.30am then we get an hour and 30 minutes for breakfast and a break. This week we’ve been spending the rest of the day with Michel but for the remainder of the course we’ll have the 11am – 1.30pm and the 3pm – 7pm sessions with different tutors. For the next five days it’s anatomy then we’ll have a day off.

Well that’s it for week one. My fellow students are all fab and bring their own thing to the table. Mitch for example is quite the linguist. He can speak Orcish and Elvish. This is a joke. Mitch, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry I started it. We’ll soon get bored of it… maybe by the final week.

I hope you’re all enjoying the Olympics. I should be at the athletics today but instead I’m here!