Poppalina

Less is More

By Shula

Okay.

So falling grievously ill does have an upside.

 

Getting sick sets you fair and square on your ass. From said ass-position, you can see the way you live your life, clear as a bell. You're obliged to consider the violence that you've no doubt (and this is important) been doing to yourself. In cases of severe illness it reminds you, tediously but in no uncertain terms, that you are in fact mortal, and that you might want to be getting your shit together about living right because this whole Life Deal is finite, dontcha know, I've told you a thousand times, I don't know why I bother... etc etc...

And it is in recognition of this fact that I am crafting again. Seriously crafting. Making anything, starting a thousand projects, not worrying about what anything will become, if I can make it earn money, or even if it's any good.

Realising that it's what I do. 

Remembering who I am.

You'd be surprised how easily I forget.

 

 

I forget that if I don't create, or give myself room to think creatively, to see the world as a creative possibility, live my life in a creative space...

I get sick.

That if I don't do my yoga practice, listen to my body and give it what it needs...

I get sick.

I'm talking really, really, life-threateningly, kick-ass fucken sick.

It's embarrassing how not rocket science this is, but I'd like a dollar for every time I've had to re-learn it.

 

So.

No more schlepping. No more expending my energy on back-aching, heart-breaking, poorly paid, shit jobs. No more using my body like a machine, and pretending to myself and the world that I'm twenty and unbreakable. That I can work like a dog and keep up, it's just a case of mind over matter.

I'm much older than twenty and (it's official) my metabolism is shattered.

Enough.

 

We held a House Meeting, the kid, the dog and I. We agreed that the first and most important lesson here is to follow your heart and do what makes you happy (the dog was emphatic on this point). Secondly, that the Universe will provide (Mym's contribution, equally heartfelt). Together, we decided that we can turn living modestly into an Art Form. That we will lower our carbon footprints and see just how little we can consume, how little money we need to live. We will regard it as a CHALLENGE (my attempt at positive spin, let's see just how bloody challenged the kid feels when she needs those new Doc Martens).

Finally, before we adjourned to de-brief with teddy bear biscuits and an Audrey Hepburn movie (how hard can life be?), the House noted also that we trust in and treasure the ongoing support of our friends and family, which has been bewilderingly forthcoming and generous. You are AWESOME and we LOVE you.

 

Still

All quiet on the Northern Front.

Took a little time out to re-group, smell the roses, read a book (Rabindranath Tagore's Gora, in case you were wondering), do a little knitting, eat well, sleep much.

Changing my yoga practice to accomodate New Job. Less focus on the physical, on 'progress', more on inner strengthening and stillness.

Thinking a lot about what matters, what doesn't.

How distracted one can become by activity for the sake of it, the obssesion with always trying to move forward, to achieve.

Staying still has it's own challenges.

How loud the clamouring in my head had become.

Much better now.

 

Back to work tomorrow.

Blankety Musings

A person who could produce yoga blankets

At an affordable price

 

Made of a soft, natural fibre,

That didn't fall completely to pieces in the wash,

   

Would totally clean up in this town.

Melbourne 2008 National Iyengar Yoga Convention

The final day of the Melbourne 2008 National Iyengar Yoga Convention finds me sitting at my kitchen table, eating semolina and doing the crossword.

The convention was a blast, and Jawahar Bangera is an Awesome Dude, but 3 hours of standing poses yesterday left me feeling like I've had a hip replacement.

 

Slowly, slowly, I'm learning to recognise when I've had enough of a good thing, before I'm laid out by it.

Then again, maybe I should go to the afternoon session.

My headstand needs all the help it can get. Those feet are a disgrace.

Namaste.

Party On, Dude

Without me.

I have intensives till the end of the week.

In the meantime, will you all, please, raise your cupcakes to Miss Pen, for the Grande Opening of her new shop, Cottage Industry.

Yo.

I'm not taking amphetamines, honest

A rather late Breakfast Sunday.

Sometimes you post a lot.

Other times, not so much.

But my yoga assignment is finally complete, after six months of elaborate, dedicated proscrastination.

I cooked roast lamb for 7 last night.

I have been madly scrubbing walls, de-cobwebbing, and seeing Ever More Hideous Filth everywhere I look.

Such was my response to a gruelling standing pose class, last Thursday.

Snapped me out of hibernation, toot sweet.

That Peter Scott. I swear he'll be the death of me.

The Bear is in the Head

Philosophy is a Serious Business, here at Chez Poppalina.

We believe that the Meaning of Life, the Universe and Everything can be found in subjects as mundane, as commonplace, as the humble teddy bear biscuit.

How to Eat, or How Not To Eat. That is the question.

Does one bite the head off decisively, mercifully annihilating consciousness in the shortest possible time?

 

The Creative Genius subscribes to this school of thought. Given her fondness for eating teddy bear biscuits, she sincerely believes that the very least she can do is minimise their suffering. I suspect an apology even forms part of the equation, albeit offered silently, so as to not embarrass herself in front of her groover friends.

Or is one shocked by the wanton brutality of the above method, preferring instead to eat from the feet up?

Given that a teddy bear biscuit can be reasonably presumed to lack a nervous system, to prolong it's existence as long as possible then becomes a priority. The Godmother considers this an Act of Respect, and the Only Civilized Option.

Interestingly, in both cases, the teddy bear-ness of the teddy is presumed to reside in the head.

You don't believe me that this was a bona fide debate, do you?

Well, it was. And it went on for Some Time. A surprising number of people got in on it.

Being initially bamboozled, and then prostrate with amusement at the earnestness of the discussion, I was eventually called upon to give the problem my serious attention.

Being a bit of a head biter, myself, I had first to consider the possibility of Teddy Bear Consciousness. Is a biscuit in the shape of a teddy bear a Sentient Being? If so, exactly what degree of sentience are we talking about? In what part of the teddy bear does the Mind reside? Is not the consumption of a teddy bear biscuit simply part of it's karma, in which case we're probably only liberating it anyway? Does it know of it's own existence? Can it feel pain? If you bite it, does it not bleed?

Well, no, actually. Not unless crumbs count.

Not surprisingly, this line of thinking got me nowhere, and had me feeling incredibly silly in about zero seconds flat.

I decided, ultimately - being the thoughtful and compassionate yogini that I am, and given that we can't be sure that Teddy Bears even know that they're being eaten - that the most important thing is to appreciate the teddy bear as we sink our teeth into whatever part of it's anatomy we deem appropriate; to celebrate and give thanks for the teddy bear's existence, whatever that may be, whilst chewing it to a digestible paste; to knowingly bring teddy bear-ness into ourselves in a Merging of Consciousness, as we swallow greedily and then reach, almost immediately, for another.

That, or give up eating teddy bear biscuits altogether.

Which is unthinkable.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Prana Love

"Pranayama is not just automatic habitual breathing to keep body and soul together. Through the abundant intake of oxygen by its disciplined techniques, subtle chemical changes take place in the sadhaka's body. The practice of asanas removes the obstructions which impede the flow of prana, and the practice of pranayarna regulates the flow of prana throughout the body. It also regulates all the Sadhaka's thoughts, desires and actions, gives poise and the tremendous will-power needed to become a master of oneself.

Pranayama is an art and has techniques to make the respiratory organs to move and expand intentionally, rhythmically and intensively. It consists of long, sustained subtle flow of inhalation (puraka), exhalation (rechaka) and retention of breath (kumbhaka). Puraka stimulates the system, rechaka throws out vitiated air and toxins; kumbhaka distributes the energy throughout the body. The movements include horizontal expansion (dairghya), vertical ascension (aroha) and circumferential extension (visalata) of the lungs and the rib cage……. This disciplined breathing helps the mind to concentrate and enables the sadhaka to attain robust health and longevity."  B.K.S. Iyengar

Amazing what happens when you do a LOT of pranayama in a relatively short period of time, and you're not really used to it. Ordinary things start jumping out of the woodwork at you, with their beauty.

mango lassi

Breathing's been a Big Problem for me, this last couple of weeks. So much so, that I've had to spend a LOT of time trying to get things under control. That, or die of strangulation.

I'm down to one a day

Now I possess such an abundance of prana, I'm considering wrapping up the excess in funky little biodegradable packages, to sell on Etsy.

Baby,

It's better than drugs.

Better than chocolate.

It's better than.....well, actually, it's been too long to say whether or not it's better than sex. That's a tough call.

  birthday present from the Creative Genius

Tonight, I'm finally breathing what a very dear friend of mine calls Good Breath.

With Great Appreciation.

Don't put smarties up your bum

Strangely, it's not the 5am starts that I (a night owl) find hard about yoga teacher-training.

It's the paperwork that really messes with my head. I will read, merrily, until the cows come home, but ask me to put pen to paper and actually submit an assignment,

and I get as silly as a bumful of smarties. Call it a hangover from My Rebellious Years.

Speaking of fools, the sale of hot cross buns, this many light years from Easter, must be some kind of record.

I bought six, immediately, without the slightest hesitation.

And...............Relax

Is what a yoga teacher will say to you, precisely at the moment when you really are going to pop an eyeball from exertion.

But the intensive is over, and not only am I standing, I'm also a little lighter, a little stronger, and quite possibly even a little taller. And very, very tired, mostly from the concentration required, for 7 hours, every day, just to keep up. I plan to make myself a tshirt, with I survived a yoga intensive with Peter Scott emblazoned across the front. I reckon I've earned it.

It was wonderful. My back is in (an ugly process, but it's done), and no further injuries. Of course, I've never once injured myself under Peter's supervision. Only when practising alone, or with a teacher who didn't know what they were doing. With Peter, you invariably become straighter, like it or not. They don't call him The Dude for nuthin'. DAMN, he's good.

In other news, the reindeer got up to mischief while I was away. For the life of me, I don't know how this happened. There's been nobody here all week.

 

Good luck to them, I say.