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Jan. 29th, 2006 10:51 amAfter a frustrating break, I'm finally back at the yoga studio, and feeling really good about it. Surprisingly, I don't feel like I've lost all that much ground, although there's a little strength/endurance lost, it's not much. In a strange way, it's helpful, because it's highlighting some trouble spots I'd been having pretty consistently through my practice. I also feel a 'recommittment' of sorts to the Anusara style - I just love the way it has such a strong focus on so many things; precision, alignment, philosophy, and G/grace, without diluting any of them. The rigor of the certification process also appeals to me in its combination of physical and intellectual requirements. Feeling that sense of committment, of solidity that *this* is the best style for me, I've come up with a plan - if I can maintain a steady practice for three months, I'm going to to talk to my teacher about a series of private lessons to focus deeply on some of my issues (left shoulder, inversions, improving stability in transitions) and then go to Virayoga for their immersion.
Three months. That's not so long, really, but the idea of trying to get through three months without an injury is a little intimidating, considering my EDS. In one perspective, I think it's going to be very good for me, bringing a lot of precision and boundary awareness into my practice. Of course shit happens, and there's always a chance I could blow out a joint walking down the stairs, but the point is that I'm going to try - I need these goals, otherwise I'm just running in place. After my three months and the first immersion session I'll talk to my teachers about coming up with a plan for beginning my path to becoming a teacher. Having these goals makes me quite happy.
I've been doing a lot of spinning recently. Oddly, even after a long break from my wheel while I was in Buffalo, my speed and technique seen to have improved. I can fill a bobbin in about a third of the time it used to take me, and my latest skein, made from a pretty sub-par preparation of some unnamed, nearly felted roving is *gorgeous*. Really, it's my best ever, a DK/light worsted weight single, nicely balanced with just enough twist, strong and lofty at the same time. It's even funnier when I think about the fact that I usually don't like using singles - my favorite handspun yarns is always navajo-plied (3 plies, made by chaining one strand of yarn in a crochet-like fashion) but I only had a bit of this roving, and want to make pulsewarmers out of it. (Seriously, my wrists get cold now. What the hell?)
When I was thinking about writing this entry I realized something - to most of the people in my life, this is all opaque - this being my arts, my plans, my practices, my work. It's as if I'm living this life in secret. I don't intend it that way, but it just works out so, I suppose because so few people actually ask me, outside of this space. It's kind of funny.
Three months. That's not so long, really, but the idea of trying to get through three months without an injury is a little intimidating, considering my EDS. In one perspective, I think it's going to be very good for me, bringing a lot of precision and boundary awareness into my practice. Of course shit happens, and there's always a chance I could blow out a joint walking down the stairs, but the point is that I'm going to try - I need these goals, otherwise I'm just running in place. After my three months and the first immersion session I'll talk to my teachers about coming up with a plan for beginning my path to becoming a teacher. Having these goals makes me quite happy.
I've been doing a lot of spinning recently. Oddly, even after a long break from my wheel while I was in Buffalo, my speed and technique seen to have improved. I can fill a bobbin in about a third of the time it used to take me, and my latest skein, made from a pretty sub-par preparation of some unnamed, nearly felted roving is *gorgeous*. Really, it's my best ever, a DK/light worsted weight single, nicely balanced with just enough twist, strong and lofty at the same time. It's even funnier when I think about the fact that I usually don't like using singles - my favorite handspun yarns is always navajo-plied (3 plies, made by chaining one strand of yarn in a crochet-like fashion) but I only had a bit of this roving, and want to make pulsewarmers out of it. (Seriously, my wrists get cold now. What the hell?)
When I was thinking about writing this entry I realized something - to most of the people in my life, this is all opaque - this being my arts, my plans, my practices, my work. It's as if I'm living this life in secret. I don't intend it that way, but it just works out so, I suppose because so few people actually ask me, outside of this space. It's kind of funny.
