One month ago today, I started teaching morning Mysore classes at Downward Dog Yoga Centre, my home studio for the past five years. I remember walking to the studio that first morning, in the dark, feeling excited, a little nervous, and hopeful—hopeful that this was the first day of a new beginning.

Before that day, I’d spent months dreaming of a morning Mysore program returning to Downward Dog.  When I first came to the studio after living and practicing in Halifax, morning Mysore had plenty of momentum, fueled by senior teachers and dedicated students.  Over time, different people moved on, either opening their own studios or venturing abroad in search of new experiences (as we tend to do in the yoga community).  Before long, mornings grew quiet until eventually there wasn’t much point in keeping the early Mysore classes on the schedule.

Like most things in life, yoga studios go through phases of ebb and flow, growth and transition. Over the past year, I’d begun to feel that it was time for morning Mysore to return, yet was apprehensive that we wouldn’t get the numbers, or that the window had closed on the possibility of reclaiming the early morning magic we’d once enjoyed.  Then at the end of the summer, Downward Dog’s co-owners, Ron Reid and Diane Bruni, agreed that it was worth a shot, and wanted me to run with the idea. I’d been waiting (I was going to say “pining” but that sounds too desperate!) for this opportunity so when the door opened I walked right through it, barely pausing to consider the consequences.  Now I’m sitting here a month later, finally taking the time to reflect on what this change in my daily routine has meant for the rest of my life.

If you’ve been involved in the Ashtanga community for any considerable length of time, you’re familiar with the concept of a daily morning practice.  Perhaps you’re a student who rises in the dark to get their practice in before work.  Or perhaps you’re an assistant or teacher who looks forward to the time you get to spend with students at this auspicious early hour, counting breaths and bending bodies.  Regardless of what brings you into whatever steamy room you call home at 6am, you know that it takes a certain degree of commitment, dedication and sacrifice to be up everyday molding yourself into poses that the majority of the still-sleeping population wouldn’t imagine possible.  There we are, day in and day out, exploring a practice that begins as a physical activity before morphing into a “not what you expected it to be” source of transformation.

Transformation, however, comes with a price! Who knew? At least it does here in the Western world, where 9-5 jobs are the reality for most worker bees, along with spouses, kids, friends, commitments, deadlines and of course the television programs that try their darndest to keep us from getting to bed on time!  My own attempt at navigating the real world when every day starts at 5am has been a lesson in the importance of sleep, nourishment and self-acceptance (So what if I’m walking to work when other people my age are walking home from the bar? I’m not boring, just dedicated!).  It has also become clear just how important it is to have routine.  Weekday evenings have become a sacred time for me to prepare for the next morning.  I make a good dinner, take a long shower, then whip up tomorrow’s smoothie. I know better than to trust my 5am brain with any decisions, so whatever I need for the next day is prepared the night before. When the morning comes, all I need to do is make sure I’m clothed before heading out the door. I arrive at the studio to open up, light candles and incense, and each day hope that people show up!  Thankfully, they always do (the momentum is returning!).  I’m sharing some pretty negligible information here, I get that—but if you’re reading this wondering if teaching early morning classes is up your alley, hopefully my experience sheds some light on what it’s really like to rise at a time when it can be necessary to set more than one alarm.

Perhaps the most telling thing I’ve learned from teaching Mysore-style classes on a regular basis is the importance of maintaining my own practice.  As someone who has always preferred to practice in the morning, it would be easy for me to envy those I now teach.  Instead, I find leading morning Mysore—at the studio that was home to Toronto’s first Mysore program—to be a privilege as I guide people through a practice that could very well set the tone for the rest of their day.  I’ve shifted my own mat time to either mid-afternoon or early evening.  Carving out that window has been essential to keeping myself sane.  I’ve found that through taking time for my own Asana practice, I stay connected to the postures.  I think of the adjustments I give others in the same poses, implementing them on my own and thinking about the receptivity of different bodies. More often than not I walk onto my own mat feeling sleepy and depleted, but walk off of it rejuvenated and inspired to take on the next day.

When I talk to others outside of the yoga community about my schedule and daily routine, they’re amazed that between teaching and practicing I’m not totally sick of yoga.  I have to admit, there are times when I’ve OD’d: when just saying the words “inhale” or “exhale” can trigger a gag-reflex; I lose the ability to differentiate left from right and confuse elbows with shoulders or knees with hips.  I think the same can be said of anyone immersed in their speciality—we become all-encompassed in the intricacies of our work, often losing sight of the world beyond the bubble.

So it’s with the importance of balance in mind that I venture into Month #2. Going forward, I endeavour to remain connected to the world outside the yoga studio, to exercise the different parts of my brain and to never stop thinking and questioning, despite the extent to which routine governs my life.  Teaching, more than anything else, is the best learning experience.  When I look back on these preliminary days years from now, I imagine the words “If you only knew then what you know now” will come up more than once. For the journey toward that time, I am grateful.

I can’t believe how fast the last 3 months have gone by.  At the time of my last entry, I was looking forward to summer on Lake of Bays, toying with the idea of moving out of my parents’ place where I’d been living since arriving home from India, and enjoying a regular smattering of classes and private clients in the city.

Today, I’m sitting on a plane, bound for Halifax.  Labour Day has passed, marking the end of the most successful summer Lake of Bays Yoga has seen to date.  For the next week, I’ll leave behind the condo I bought in July, and enjoy the company of old friends, some of whom I haven’t seen since graduating with my MA from Dalhousie in 2007.  I’ll use this vacation as a time to get grounded before I embark on what just may be the busiest fall I’ve encountered in a long time, at least since my days of being a student.

Some exciting things are on the horizon.  At the end of September, I’ll begin teaching a new morning Mysore program at Downward Dog Yoga Centre.  After months petitioning the owners of the studio, my teachers, to bring the morning program back onto the schedule, we’re on the same page.  The opportunity to lead the program and hopefully build it into something that will bring together other excellent instructors and dedicated students is going to be worth the 6am start five days a week.  I’ll continue to lead my other weekly classes and work with new and existing private clients, building a schedule that would have seemed unimaginable to me three years ago when I began teaching yoga full time.

Despite the heavy workload, I know the next few months will be marked by the feeling of  impoverishment; as I’ve heard on numerous occasions since July 25 when my condo closed, there’s nothing like the “I’m broke” feeling one encounters after purchasing a first home.  As ready as I felt to take this step toward being an actual grown-up, it still feels like a pretty big shift. Not only do I suddenly own appliances, one of which attempted to break down yesterday, I’ve entered into what could very well turn out to be the longest relationship I’ve been in to date…with my bank.  Though despite the nerves, the responsibility, and that little voice asking “What the hell was I thinking?” from deep within, I can’t deny the sense of accomplishment that came from buying my first home.  I made it through the bidding wars—often against couples wielding at least twice my income—to land a condo in my dream location, secured a mortgage, moved during the summer when I’m only in the city 72 hours a week, and topped it off with some new furniture and a shiny flatscreen TV assembled and installed without a man in sight.  I think that last bit may have been the most fun.

It seems like every week of the past few months has brought with it more momentum. Now with so many new beginnings to look forward to, I was torn about leaving “my city” this week after being away from TO for so much of the summer.  I’ve missed the buzz, the restaurants, the cafés, and of course the gift of having a place to practice with amazing teachers.  But when I booked the trip, which will take me to Halifax for the next 3 days, and then off to Ottawa for the first time this weekend, my intention was to break free of the bubble.  I suppose it can happen anywhere, but I find Toronto to be particularly consuming when it comes to getting trapped in routine, where people forget about the outside world because we Hogtowners are so busy, so important…how could we ever leave? Plus…this is the one week of the year when every celeb known to the Western world is galavanting around my very own neighbourhood!

But alas, here I sit, enjoying my cookies and tea while flying over Maine.  I know getting out is a good thing.  I can tell my brain and my body are ready for this break. I’m looking forward to staying with my first yoga teacher, Jody Manley, comparing Nancy stories and reminiscing about the old days in the shed.  I’ll soak up as much time with old friends as I possibly can, reminding myself that Halifax, a city I called home for five years, will probably always be a place where I can return and see familiar faces.  Along with enjoying a rush-free daily yoga practice, I intend to keep writing.  Over the summer, I couldn’t make the time or find the energy to do anything but rest when I wasn’t teaching or practicing.  As someone who has always reveled in words and language, it feels like I shut down a part of myself when I stop putting ideas on paper.

In a few minutes time, the seat-belt light will go on, the buzz of the landing gear lowering will echo through the cabin, and the view out the window will bring YHZ into view. I’ll step off the plane, immediately notice the lack of humidity and try not to miss the heat of southern Ontario. I’ll find my way into the city where, without the urgent pace that seems to characterize Toronto life, even heart rates slow down.  I’m ready to let that happen.  Let the vacation begin…

Last night I was watching television with my dad.  He flipped through the channels, eventually pausing on CNN to catch what Anderson Cooper had to say about the state of the world these days.  The lead story addressed Republican senator Michele Bachmann, and her habit of dragging Planned Parenthood’s name through the mud.  If you look up this gem of a Presidential candidate on YouTube, you will find numerous examples where she calls out Planned Parenthood for their role in “Big Abortion”, adding to the never-ending right-wing attack on family planning services.

True to form, AC set the facts straight, pointing out how Planned Parenthood is constantly misrepresented – in the media, as well as in the US House of Representatives – solely as abortion providers, and rarely recognized for the health care they provide to youth, women and underprivileged members of society.

While completing my undergraduate degree in Halifax, I volunteered with the Planned Parenthood Metro Clinic, today known as the Halifax Sexual Health Centre.  The notable name change speaks to the evolution of services offered through Planned Parenthood clinics.  This shift was borne at a national level in 2005, when the Planned Parenthood Federation of Canada became the Canadian Federation for Sexual Health.

In 2008, after moving back to Toronto, I joined the Board of Directors at Planned Parenthood Toronto, which unlike most other Canadian clinics under the CFSH umbrella, had chosen to keep the Planned Parenthood designation in their name.  Both in Halifax, as a volunteer, and in Toronto, as a Board member, it became clear just how few people actually understand what it is that Planned Parenthood does in Canada.  When I told friends and family about my involvement and commitment to this organization, describing the services and community programming they provide, it was clear just how few people knew that Planned Parenthood has anything to do with sexual health beyond unplanned pregnancy.

As someone under the age of 29, I’m able to go to Planned Parenthood Toronto as a client and receive general health services.  This means I can make one of the physicians there my family doctor, and visit the clinic for any range of services, including annual exams and general health concerns.  The scope of services available at this community health centre is unparalleled, and ranges from community outreach programs geared toward LGBTQ youth, men’s sexual health, mental health, pre- and post-natal care and birth control education.  When girlfriends of mine would lament about the cost of birth control prescriptions, and I would recommend they go to Planned Parenthood where birth control can cost as little as five dollars a month, they would be shocked and relieved!  Until then, it had never occurred to them to go to Planned Parenthood, since that’s where people went who needed abortions.

So, if Canadians are confused about what Planned Parenthood is all about, I can only begin to imagine – and shudder at the thought of – what the Planned Parenthood Federation of America is up against in the United States.  The best remedy for ignorance is to get properly informed, and thankfully there are public figures like Anderson Cooper who are prepared to do this on prime time TV.  But what’s still devastating and detrimental is that there is a woman out there who is attacking an organization dedicated to WOMEN’S health, and using misinformation as a platform for her own political gain.

While it is doubtful that Michele Bachmann will even come close to receiving a nomination for the Presidential ballot, we all remember what a joy it was to watch Sarah Palin rise to the top of the Republican empire.  So this brings me to my final thought…do you think these crazy ladies have ever stepped on a yoga mat? I’m going out on a limb here to say that the idea of removing their pointy-toe pumps and going barefoot would be enough to keep them away from any yoga studio.  But I still like to dream of what it would be like in a world where politicians stand on their heads and see the world from a whole new perspective – imagine that!

My sore? You sore? Eye-sore? No sore…
The term “Mysore”, when used to reference a type of yoga, comes from the name of an actual place – Mysore, India, where Sri K. Pattabhi Jois began teaching Ashtanga yoga to Westerners over 30 years ago.  Today, devoted Ashtangis consider Mysore, India to be their “Mecca”, coming in droves from all corners of the world to practice at the source.

When I first told people I was going to India this year, many assumed I meant going to Mysore.  And while I had seriously considered this option (which meant trying to register online only to be met with technical difficulties and the ensuing frustration), it felt like the right decision to go to Goa and tap into the international yoga community in that way instead.  At both Purple Valley and Yoga Bones, Mysore style formed the backbone of practice.  Yet what I’ve become increasingly aware of, not only during my travels but also here at home, is that “Mysore style” varies depending on who your teacher is.

The common denominator of all Mysore style classes is self-practice; students move through postures according to their own pace, stopping where they meet their personal challenges and moving through these individual road-blocks under the guidance of their instructor.  In traditional Ashtanga schools, all students practice the sequence from either primary, intermediate or advanced series, according to the teachings of Pattabhi Jois, and now R. Sharath Jois, his grandson and the current director of KPJAYI.  Students in this type of environment are taught the series one pose at a time, which they receive from their instructor, gradually building a foundation from which more advanced postures then become possible.  When postures are met with difficulty and are not accessible to students, they would finish their practice rather than moving beyond and potentially risking injury.  Then, once the “nemesis” pose is achieved, the student continues further along in the sequence.

Traditionally, “extra” poses (other stretches to open the body or postures taken from other styles of yoga) are not looked upon favourably in traditional Ashtanga, and props such as blocks and straps are not used.  These restrictions may be intimidating at first, especially for those who have become accustomed to practicing in other environments, doing other types of yoga.  For this reason, studios that embrace a reformed approach to Ashtanga yoga might foster a Mysore-inspired self-practice that is less about defined structure and leaves more room for variation and creativity.

I have yet to find two different Mysore classes that are identical in approach, and therefore energy.  Here in Toronto, Downward Dog Yoga Centre is home to the city’s first Mysore program, created by Ron Reid.  Ron’s approach to Mysore seeks to balance the demands of the Ashtanga practice with the needs of individual students.  Students are encouraged to find the work in their practice – using strength and alignment to maintain integrity throughout.  This may involve using “extra” poses and the use of props.  To get an idea of what Mysore-style means at Downward Dog, click here.

I have also practiced at the Ashtanga Yoga Centre of Toronto (check out their Mysore philosophy here), Sattva Yoga Shala in Montreal, and Babylon Yoga in Vancouver.  While Babylon, like Downward Dog, adopts a self-practice view to Mysore – which creates a wonderful space, might I add! – , AYCT and Sattva are both traditional shalas operated by Authorized (David Robson) and Certified (Mark Darby) instructors.

Outside of Canada, my Mysore experience extends to Sydney, Australia, and now to Petri Raisenen of Ashtanga Yoga Helsinki, and Rolf and Marci Naujokat of Yoga Bones in Goa.  Yoga Moves, in Sydney, is where I took my first Mysore class.  I remember looking at their schedule the first time and wondering what the difference was between “Mysore” and “Led” classes.  It only took one class for me to realize the benefits of Mysore-style practice, and I was immediately hooked.  From there, I went back to Nova Scotia, where I was a university student, and began a daily Mysore practice with Jody Manley of Ashtanga Yoga Halifax.

It was in both Sydney and Halifax that I built the foundation of my Ashtanga practice, and in Toronto and onward where I’ve continued my journey.  The opportunity to teach Mysore is something I greatly look forward to, as I see this as a means by which to share all that I’ve absorbed from practicing with different instructors in multiple environments.  But that’s not to say that my days as a student are numbered – not at all!  I’m already looking ahead to next winter, when I intend to escape the cold again in search of yoga immersion with more incredible instructors.  The practice may be the real teacher, but it’s the encouragement, insight and feedback we receive along the way that takes yoga to a level of true development.

Whew!  Ten days since my last post…not good.  But here are my excuses for having been away from the keyboard:

1. I started driving a scooter in Goa and got addicted to the freedom of the open road!
2. I went for my first Watsu treatment at WatsuGoa (amazing…do check out this fantastic form of water therapy if there is a Watsu centre in your region)
3. Daily 3-hour practices under the guidance of Rolf and Marci left me totally used up in terms of energy but completely full up in terms of new information and inspiration.
4. I packed my bags and said goodbye to Goa.
5. I arrived home in Toronto and commenced operation re-integration!

That’s right, I’m home and feel like I haven’t really missed a beat.  I’m practicing and teaching again at Downward Dog Yoga Centre, and in the coming days I’ll return to 889 Yonge and start working again with my private clients and the Toronto FC.  It’s felt almost too easy to slide right back in to my pre-India routine, which has left me wondering whether my trip ever really happened or whether it was just a dream.  Thankfully, I’ve got plenty of photos as evidence that my Indian adventure did, in fact, take place.

My last week in Candolim was truly blissful.  From Monday onward, Rolf and Marci took my practice to a new level, honing in on my weaknesses to approach poses differently, with a new awareness. When I realized how much room for improvement there really was in my second series practice, despite the fact I’d already started third, I asked Rolf whether I should stop practicing third series for the time being in favour of working more on second.  “Why?” he answered, “You’re young, you’re healthy, you’ve been taught the poses and you have the time you need here, so you do it all – second, and then all that you know of third.”  Add to this back-bending work for drop-backs from Marci, and bam – three hour practices!

Despite the intense daily yoga regime, I managed to pack my final days and make the most of my last week in Goa.  Driving a scooter was definitely a highlight – so much freedom, without the expense of taking cabs everywhere.  Plus, I really got to know my way around, determining all of the best routes to my favourite spots between Assagao, where Purple Valley is, and Candolim.  Having gotten accustomed to the Indian way of driving (Ie. No full stops, little honks to communicate with other drivers, and essentially constant movement without so much regard for right of way!), I can see now just how cautious we in North America are when it comes to navigating the open road.  Stop signs, speed bumps, and traffic lights?!?!  It’s all a little much…Indians in Goa chose one (speed bumps) and let the rest go by the wayside.  And it works!  While I was scooting around town, I found myself gravitating toward favourite restaurants, cafes, and shops that I’ve compiled below.  I’ve received a few comments and emails from others heading to Candolim in the next little while, so hopefully this will be of use when planning a trip to practice with Rolf and Marci.

Candolim itself is no prize.  So if you or someone you’re with can drive a scooter, you’ll have access to much more.  But alas, driving in Goa may not be everyone’s cup of tea, so we’ll start with places near the shala that are worth checking out.

• Pete’s Shack.  If you’re looking for yogis, start here.  Pete’s is located on the quieter end of the beach toward the northern part of town, closer to the Yoga Bones Shala.  They serve inexpensive, decent food – both Indian and Western varieties.  They’re open all day, for breakfast, lunch, dinner and anything in between.  Every evening Rolf, Marci and their many pups head to the beach for sunset, which can often be followed by dinner at Pete’s Shack.

• Lawande Supermarket, an alternative to the always busy and tourist-filled Newton’s. I preferred Lawande, where I could find water, good organic cereals, snacks and a wide array of Himalaya products.

• Republic of Noodles.  If you’re in the mood for an escape from the typical Candolim landscape, wander down the road to the Lemon Tree hotel, where you’ll find this swanky Thai-inspired restaurant with excellent vegetarian options and delicious desserts.

While I’m sure there’s more to Candolim, these were my main haunts.  I preferred venturing back up the coast, in search of peaceful beaches, vibrant markets and sinful cakes!

• Villa Blanche, just down the road from Purple Valley in Assagao is a must.  They close March 27 for the season, so if you’re in Goa get there before it’s too late!  Their Sunday brunch is the best, with an endless buffet of beautiful foods (and desserts) that makes this the place to be every weekend.

• Before brunch, head to Brahmani Yoga in Anjuna for self-practice with Ken the Rolfer.  While I think Ken has moved on for the season, should you be in Goa and hear that he’s around at another time, do check out his class – very good adjustments and an intelligent approach to the practice.

• French Bakery – though it’s not actually called French Bakery, ask any traveller who’s been there for a while and they’ll know where to direct you.  When you’re in the mood for hot croissants, yummy french juices and a taste of the West (salad niçoise anyone?), head there and chill amongst the bohemians.

• Artjuna, a lovely artist coop and café located steps away from the Anjuna flea market (Wednesdays through high season)

• Bean Me Up, for great vegetarian food, excellent smoothies and the answer to any craving one might have for American Breakfast.

• Coffee Heaven, a highlight of each visit to the Anjuna Market and the Saturday Night Market in Arpora.  Try their Lemon-Ginger lemonade – the most refreshing beverage in 30+ degree heat.

• Mandrem Beach for peace and quiet.  Aswen is a beautiful spot as well, and not as far north, but of all the beaches I frequented, Mandrem was my favourite.

I’m sure there are a tonne of other great must-see spots in Goa that I never managed to find.  If you’re reading this and realizing I’ve left out your favourites, let me know and leave a comment below!

While my time in Goa was undoubtedly exceptional, full of great times with wonderful new friends, I’m now back in Canada and doing my best to get re-focused in the real world.  This process is still in progress, so I’ll let you know how the transition has gone once I’m a little further along.  Until then, I’ll do my best to obey traffic signals and quell my cravings for Villa Blanche chocolate cake. Who knows, maybe those cravings will see me back in Goa before too long.  One can only hope!

With nearly a full week with Rolf and Marci now under my belt, I’m beginning to get the hang of things here in Candolim.  After leaving behind everything I’d gotten accustomed to over the past month at Purple Valley, my first couple of days here were a little lonely.  I may only be a 20-minute drive away from the place I called home until last weekend, but Candolim can feel a world away, especially when driving a scooter still seems a little out of my league.

This coastal town presents an amusingly vast scope of inhabitants, ranging from the Speedo-wearing, beer-can gripping Russian tourists strolling the beach all day, to the international array of svelte yogis ever on the prowl for their next vegetarian meal.  After a few days of practicing here, I’ve begun to see familiar faces from the shala, given that everyone tends to hang out in one of three places: on the beach, in front of Pete’s Shack, inside Pete’s Shack, or at the internet café.  It’s a very different vibe than what I found at Purple Valley; while the retreat centre caters more toward yoga tourists, Candolim plays host to hundreds each year who come here with the purpose of immersing themselves in all that Rolf and Marci have to offer.

I would say most of the people I’ve met through the shala are here alone, and intend to stay for an extended period of time.  Everyone comes here with one intention: to practice.  After morning Mysore, the rest of the day is treated as just time to pass before we wake up and go back to the shala.  When I first arrived and realized this was the deal, I didn’t know how I would last even 2 weeks.  Then at breakfast on my second day here, I got chatting with another girl I’d practiced next to that morning, who had just come here from Mysore.  I asked her how she spent her days there and now here, when she wasn’t practicing, eating or sleeping.  Her answer told me that I’d already discovered the great yogi past-times: reading, laundering, and emailing.  There was no big secret – just the ability to get used to this life in the slow lane.

And low and behold, I’m adjusting!  Yesterday, for instance, I had my most intense practice yet.  After I told Rolf that I’d been practicing up to half of third series with Petri, he had me go through all of second, then add on what I could do of third, which meant about 2.5 hours of practice.  On top of that, yesterday was the hottest day I’ve experienced since arriving in Goa, so by the time I was walking home from the shala the option of crawling didn’t seem too far-fetched.  I had already made plans the previous day to meet my breakfast date and another student for lunch and an afternoon out.  But had I not had these plans already on tap, I could have been very content going home to nap, eat, play on the internet, and maybe nap some more.  I remembered what Rolf had said to me on my first day here and it started to make sense: when he first told me the game plan of adding third onto second, I asked him if he wanted me to start earlier than 8 seeing how it would be a longer practice.  He replied that it didn’t matter how long I took – my practice was the only reason I was here, so taking my time was allowed.  Shuffling through the sand after my marathon practicing, I really understood and felt what he meant – those 2.5 hours were going to be the most concentrated, difficult, intense part of my day.  However I chose to spend the rest of it didn’t really matter, so long as I ate something and then got enough sleep so I could wake up and do it all over again.

So since then, I’ve been thinking a lot about this yoga lifestyle and how it’s not exactly a vacation and yet by no means a far cry from idyllic.  A few weeks ago, Petri gave a great talk on how committing oneself to Ashtanga yoga – practicing six days a week, living a vegetarian lifestyle, etc. – meant not having a regular life compared to others who don’t practice yoga with that same level of dedication (or maybe obsession or compulsion are better words…I can’t decide).  Those who do practice 6 days each week often have trouble entering into or remaining in relationships with partners who are not yogis.  Similarly, they can start to feel that work gets in the way, and initiate a complete shift in  their daily routine, or in more extreme cases, change careers altogether.  Friendships are measured in tolerance – those who understand and respect a yogi lifestyle vs. those who can’t relate to waking before dawn to “go stretch” – while family members can be left wondering if their yoga-obsessed loved one has done anything more than join a cult.

When serious yoga practitioners leave home to study with their teachers, be it here in Candolim, or in Mysore, or anywhere else where the journey takes us, it is a given that we’ll always land amongst other members of our tribe.   In these instances, we are living “regular lives”, since to be normal here means devoting the most energy in our day toward our practice.  Yet to outside observers, this lifestyle can appear self-indulgent, narcissistic even, and disconnected from the rest of the world.  I’ve had several conversations with some of my fellow yoga teachers in Toronto over whether a lifestyle centered around yoga is solely an obsession with physical prowess, or whether it is instead something deeper – a quest for not only physical but also spiritual and emotional self-improvement, which thereby contributes more to society as a whole.

I don’t think it’s really possible to come away from that debate with a clear answer or consensus, and it’s not really necessary to decipher one.  It’s simply interesting to think about how this lifestyle and the community supporting it evolve and relate to the rest of the world.  As I’ve said in previous posts, the most potent thing I will take away from this experience is the feeling of being part of a community – my tribe.  This was never more apparent than on my first morning at Yoga Bones, when I looked up and saw that another student standing in the entryway of the shala was wearing a “Downward Dog Yoga Centre” t-shirt [Side note to my Downward Doggies, it was Antoine (last name unknown), as well as Sophie, a grad of DWD’s TT program!].  Similarly, only days before when I came to Candolim for the first time to watch the sunset, I ran into a guy I had practiced with in Maui at Nancy Gilgoff’s back in December.  In the yoga world, it seems of no consequence how many miles we travel; there will always be someone waiting wherever we land ready to discuss the finer points of Mula Bandha over a cup of tea – Chai or otherwise.  Cheers to that!

I’ve fallen off the blogging wagon the last little while, as things came to a close at Purple Valley and I relocated to Candolim to practice with Rolf and Marci at Yoga Bones.  But I’m back now, and while my Goa brain is lying in the sun, refusing to think – let alone type – my fingers are going to do their best to get things up to speed on what’s been going on lately.

Last week marked the end of my time with Petri at Purple Valley.  People always tell me, you never know how good you have it until it’s gone – ain’t that the truth!  After one month at this retreat centre paradise, I was beyond conditioned to the way things operate there: fantastic, healthy food (courtesy of Sayuri, famous vegan chef amongst yogis who travels the world cooking at different yoga retreats…check her out: yummtumm.com); early morning, quiet practices; on-site massage and pool and not to mention all of the lovely people I’ve met there and come to think of as my “valley family”.  And on top of that, I was practicing with someone who helped take my practice to another level.

Petri is one of the most encouraging, compassionate and gifted instructors I have studied with.  On our last night at Purple Valley, Sayuri and I met up with Petri, Wambui, Rolf and Marci in Candolim to watch the sunset.  It was a great opportunity to bridge the two realms of my experience here in Goa – moving on from my time with Petri and Wambui, onto practicing at Yoga Bones.  Since by that time Petri was officially off duty, having taught his last class before heading to Mysore to play student for a month, he was clearly more relaxed and presented a different side to his typical yoga teacher persona.  I felt so lucky to have the chance to spend that final evening with them, and when it came time to say our final goodbyes I really had no words that could accurately convey just how special the past month has been to me.

After spending the weekend at local guest house Bean Me Up and enjoying a last few days with some members of my valley family, I left for Candolim and got set up in my new digs.  To follow-up from my last post, I never did end up staying at the guest house where I was told to “make good” with the owner’s daughter.  Instead, I found a beach house where the owners were much more inviting and happy to have me stay!  Pictures of this little abode will follow…promise!

Rolf Naujokat, photographed by Graeme Montgomery for the book, "Mysore Style"

I awoke Monday morning – or rather, slept in, considering that my new start time for Mysore with Rolf and Marci is 8am! – and headed off to practice.  A small crowd waiting outside the shala told me I’d arrived in the right place.  Every couple of minutes, the call of “one more!” would sound from inside, prompting one of us in the cue to enter and commence practice.  After watching practice for a while (the shala is a giant outdoor tent, with plastic sheet walls in some places, and open sides in others, so easy viewing) and getting acquainted with the shala’s resident mosquito population, I took my place and made my way through full primary series.  When you start with an traditional Ashtanga instructor who doesn’t know you, it is customary to practice primary on the first day before proceeding to more advanced series.  I was thankful for this custom yesterday, given that being in a new environment always makes it challenging for me to maintain focus.  Plus, the shift from Petri to Rolf and Marci has been pretty drastic.  Petri’s Mysore class is a meditation space – we started at 5:30am in the dark, with candles and dim lighting keeping the room serene.  No one speaks, and Petri and Wambui guide and assist using hands-on adjustments, barely any words.  Compare this to Rolf and Marci’s: an indoor-outdoor space, full to its brim with yogis, where flies, uneven dung floors and the occasional wandering dog are doing their best to knock your concentration.  Yes…it’s been an adjustment to say the least!  But what is encouraging is the number of advanced students practicing here in Candolim.  People stay for months on end to learn from Rolf and Marci, which tells me that, like in most situations, us humans can get used to just about anything.

So today is day two, and while I continue to yearn for my Purple Valley experience, I’m trying to remain open-minded to all that I have to learn from my new surroundings.  I’m reminded of one of the last things Petri said to me – that yoga doesn’t so much change a person, so much as it shows him or her who they really are.  I’m keeping that in mind as I look ahead to these final days (10 to be exact!) in India, remaining mindful of how I choose to handle the challenges I face both in my practice and in this journey.