Once a week, usually on Sundays, my wife sleeps in. This means that my 6 month old son also sleeps in, so, if I’m up by 5am, I can get through the ashtanga primary series up to about navasana – although this week I did Rocket II. By my third lolasana, he usually starts to wake up, and I hastily feed and rock him. He chills for maybe, if I’m lucky, 8 minutes, and I rush, full bore, through the finishing sequence; 5 breaths each pose, jump-backs, jump-throughs, chakrasanas, all done at break neck (by which I mean I might actually break my neck) speed.
Basically, between teaching, and my still awkwardly fitting responsibilities of fatherhood, I don’t have much time for yoga.
This makes me wonder, why was I attracted to yoga, and specifically ashtanga, in the first place? I mean, I know why I did yoga generally – hot, hatha, vinyasa, core (*cuz I gots to wear leggings, obviously); but I had never actually heard of ashtanga before taking my teaching course.
Why now, do I find the practice so compelling that when I’m rocking my son back to sleep at 5:30am on a weekend morning, part of me is whispering…”put him down for a second, just do bhujapidasana”, knowing full well that at his current age and temperament, the experience of his meal being interrupted, even for a quick vinyasa, will result in sheer, uncontrollable terror. The will to live is strong in this one.
Some people give of themselves as a matter of course; helping the helpless, feeding the hungry, or just labouring with boundless energy for their family’s domestic welfare. My mom was like this; never stopping the folding and chopping and cooking and mopping, along with consoling, wiping, hugging and disciplining, all the while holding down often multiple part time, jobs.
I guess in the end, I was drawn to ashtanga because of the inward looking nature of the practice. Ashtanga is about examining, reflecting on, and ultimately changing, the nature of your own mind. I tend to be both anxious and narcissistically introspective, and ashtanga is a pretty selfish experience, at least in the beginning.
What having a child has taught me, is that, although looking inward is incredibly useful, and really can make you a better person, it can consume you. The fluctuations of your mind are a far greater toxin, and a greater addiction, than even the physical world in all its prakṛti-ishness.
Practice is practice, but life is LIFE. I’m doing my best to reject extremes, both gross and subtle, and seek a middle path of balance.
- Michael
Basically, between teaching, and my still awkwardly fitting responsibilities of fatherhood, I don’t have much time for yoga.
This makes me wonder, why was I attracted to yoga, and specifically ashtanga, in the first place? I mean, I know why I did yoga generally – hot, hatha, vinyasa, core (*cuz I gots to wear leggings, obviously); but I had never actually heard of ashtanga before taking my teaching course.
Why now, do I find the practice so compelling that when I’m rocking my son back to sleep at 5:30am on a weekend morning, part of me is whispering…”put him down for a second, just do bhujapidasana”, knowing full well that at his current age and temperament, the experience of his meal being interrupted, even for a quick vinyasa, will result in sheer, uncontrollable terror. The will to live is strong in this one.
Some people give of themselves as a matter of course; helping the helpless, feeding the hungry, or just labouring with boundless energy for their family’s domestic welfare. My mom was like this; never stopping the folding and chopping and cooking and mopping, along with consoling, wiping, hugging and disciplining, all the while holding down often multiple part time, jobs.
I guess in the end, I was drawn to ashtanga because of the inward looking nature of the practice. Ashtanga is about examining, reflecting on, and ultimately changing, the nature of your own mind. I tend to be both anxious and narcissistically introspective, and ashtanga is a pretty selfish experience, at least in the beginning.
What having a child has taught me, is that, although looking inward is incredibly useful, and really can make you a better person, it can consume you. The fluctuations of your mind are a far greater toxin, and a greater addiction, than even the physical world in all its prakṛti-ishness.
Practice is practice, but life is LIFE. I’m doing my best to reject extremes, both gross and subtle, and seek a middle path of balance.
- Michael