I landed here sometime around 4 on Friday, as the sun was starting to fade...swirling clouds everywhere. Black skies, purple skies, red skies, blue. Something about being somewhere so empty when things in Los Angeles are so full all the time.
...
My entire life in a single picture...
And I realized the moment I took it, immediately moved. Winding road, chasing a setting sun. Empty, hopeful. Full, hopeless. Someday, I'll go back to sleep in the desert, let it fall and wash over me. The seed's in my mind.
...
From Joshua Tree, I made way to La Quinta. There, I met some gym rat friends for a yoga retreat. I signed on because it was a chance to get out of the city. I thought it would be a chill weekend at a far enough away resort, some chill yoga...all that biz. The first 90 minute class on Friday led to a 120 minute class on Saturday morning which led to 150 minutes of possibly the most opening class I've taken, ever, on Saturday night. When I speak of opening, know this isn't about body. Here, we almost only and always speak of the mind...
On Sunday, after what turned out to be a grueling schedule, I couldn't walk straight, absolutely ready for an easy 90 minute "reflection" class before I hit the road back to Los Angeles. Instead, we eased into something that demands explanation...
We started easy, early morning moving. If you don't do yoga, when you learn to commit, it's all about strength of mind and body working together, and breath - and you learn to reach for this thing I'll dub here as the push. It's about finding a place in your body that panics through work and finds struggle, suffering...and from there it's about controlling and rising above the suffering. When you get deep, it can be a deepening experience. That's what hit me on Sunday. As the class started to unfold, things grew aggressive. We crossed 1 hour, 90 minutes, 120 minutes, 150 minutes...just pushing and pushing and pushing - straight through failure, straight through exhaustion - straight through students snapping at their teacher - straight through all the shit you have to face when you put yourself through this kind of thing - because we're all capable of so much more than we know, because we're so much stronger than we realize...and I'm not talking bull shit affirmation.
Sometime around the 2 and a half hour mark, she brought us into a position called Frog. You lay face down and split your knees, rest with all your weight into your groin and outer hips...and it feels like you're giving birth and all you can do is sit and breathe and deal. In class at the WeHo Q-Nox, we'll hold the pose for 5 minutes, 10 if we go absolutely nuts. It's brutal. If you've got mess of life in your head and heart and body...they say you hold it all in your hips. Try this pose for 30 seconds and you'll believe exactly that. On Sunday, at the 15 minute point, I was done, completely cooked, completely ready to get up and go home and call it a tough and lovely weekend. Maybe she could read me...maybe we were just falling into the grand plan. She came around behind me and put her legs over my hips and started to lean back and I went nuts, hissing and twitching, no drama...all pain, all panic. At 17 minutes I was howling, literally involuntarily through the room...
There's that scene in Fight Club where Brad Pitt pours acid over Ed Norton's hand...it was that, maybe worse. And all she was saying...there's no pain you can't handle, there's no pain you can't deal with, I'm not going anywhere, you're not coming out, you're not done until you can find a way to let go. At 22 minutes, mind flowing with poison, I had to bite through my lip to keep something like you fucking bitch, get off me, fuck you, fuck you...down. At 24 minutes, I was about to throw up, saying I'm gonna puke I'm gonna puke I'm gonna puke...before realizing it was or wasn't my body pulling up whatever it had to to get me away from that pain - like it thought I was dying...and in turn was fighting for survival - literally trying to use parlor tricks as a method of escape. My body would go through these spurts of rest and panic, rest and panic and she was still leaning back on me, still pulling and at some point I was so far beyond gone I had to decide I would give up, die in it if I had to...that's the only way I can give a satisfactory explanation. At 26 minutes, she pulled off and left me there for 9 more minutes. There was no relief, just paralysis and pain...and all I had was breath and there was a waterfall in the background and I remember trying to hold onto that. When we hit 35 minutes, she told us to come out, slowly. I tried and couldn't, just pain. When I finally fell onto my chest, I broke in half...involuntary tears and no control and just laying there, face on the cold tile, trying to wrap mind on what had just happened to me.
...
I've been preaching something in my classes since the beginning. It's this idea of setting bars for yourself, and that I don't want people in my classes who only come to maintain or go through the motions. I demand growth. Spinning is leaving a job you can't stand. Yoga is having the guts to chase down someone you feel you should love. Push your heart, push your life. Cut corners anywhere, pay the price everywhere.
I taught a class this morning and felt the need to preach this, what I'd been through...because if I had a teacher who went through the things I went through this weekend, I'd want to hear it - I'd want to own it...
All I have left to say is that to some people...everything about this shared experience is absurd. And I get that...there was a day a while back where this would have been absurd to me, too. I'm not saying this is the path for everyone - or that we all find depth in the same things...I know this isn't the case...
But I left Los Angeles on Friday. It's Monday morning and the world looks different. We have absolute control.
