Monday, October 01, 2007
MISSING FROM THE MYSORE BLOG...
....is the following - a version of which I would like to include in the condensed version of my Mysore Diary but can't seem to get quite right.
It seems wrong to leave it out, but leaving it in makes me feel like a whiner. And like I'm going to be publicly flogged for writing about that which cannot be discussed.
Anyone care to weigh in?
Today I practiced between Vance-from-Berkeley and Guy-from-NYC; behind me was Peter-from-New Zealand and in front of me was Rolf-from-all-over. Even Lino, whom I adore, was nearby.
The energy was good. But my dropbacks were more like swimming frantically towards shore than floating.
Later in the day I returned to the shala to speak to Sharath about getting officially authorized to teach Ashtanga vinyasa yoga. (Although I’ve been teaching since 1998, official authorization requires at least four trips to Mysore, plus the candidate must “demonstrate appropriate attitude, devotion to the practice, and proficiency in the Primary Series (and usually at least half of the Second Series) as determined by the directors of AYRI,” while certfiication requires at least eight trips and proficiency in the first three series. According to the AYRI website, students are no longer allowed to even ask about authorization. But since I was left with the impression last year that I needed to come one more time and stay for one month in order to be authorized, I felt compelled to bring it up). After learning how many months I’ve studied in Mysore – nine – I was told to come back next year and stay for two more months.
This afternoon I smashed my foot between the kickstand and the Kaveri Lodge gate. It stung like hell, and it looked kind of dented but after awhle it seemed OK.
But in the evenining the foot swelled up and began to throb with pain, and I worried that I wouldn’t be able make tomorrow’s excursion to Kodagu - which would have entailed a lot of walking.
So I stopped to see the pharmacist, who gave me two tablets. He said to take one in the evening and one in the morning.
"And after that?" I asked.
"You will not need anything."
I iced my foot and took the tablets as prescribed.
The next day it was like new.
When I went back to the phamacist to thank him for curing me, he said, “It wasn’t me,” and pointed upward. “It was God.”
Apparently that's the same God who wants me to keep coming back to Mysore ad infinitum.
Here's hoping S/he provides the funds to make it happen.