This is in part, no doubt, due to the incessant strangeness of my dreams. Every night I am plagued with twisted memories and skewed stories of both past and future, close enough to the actuality of my life to be confusing but bizarre enough to be disturbing. I wake to stiffness and emotional exhaustion. It takes some effort to sort through the rubble and figure out which events are real, which makes me wonder how much of my life occurred as I remember it, and how much that distinction really matters.
To cope with this recent aversion, at least in terms of practice, I have been packing up my mat and going out. Monday morning, I attended an eclectic led Ashtanga class which was a mix of First and Second, and yesterday, I went to an evening Mysore practice.
The evening Mysore was quite nice. Because of traffic congestion, I arrived with only 65 minutes to practice, but somehow managed a full practice with just a couple of omissions (6 Surya instead of 10, split at Parsvottanasana instead of Ardha Baddha Padmottanasana). Considering that my practice usually takes one hour and 45 minutes, the efficiency of last night's practice was astounding. Four breaths instead of five in all the standing postures and a ticking clock over my head really ramps up the speed. This is good to know.
I'll be heading back to the Mysore room tonight. It has been nice to practice with others, so heartening to be with dedicated practitioners of every level who do this practice in earnest. I love them all and have always felt that being present in a Mysore room, as a teacher or a student, is such a special privilege. Sometimes it makes me wish there were a Mysore program that were more convenient for me to get to every day.
Ok... maybe not every day. Once or twice a week might be enough, but you get the idea. The group energy is uplifting and there is a quiet closeness in this little Ashtangi community. It's time that I made more of an effort to be a part of it.