Buses and trains

A while back I estimated that I had spent about half a year of my life riding a train or bus. Whether this was heading off to high school or college or going out that's half a year in some (typically ridiculously overcrowded) piece of metal. There's something about public transport. And it's not just the awesome fact that it's green. It's just so PUBLIC! You have random people sitting next to you falling asleep on your shoulder. You have buskers laying down some phat beats (the Ukelele Lady in Sydney was my favorite).

We share these spaces with people we might not have anything in common with. For me, this was the most interesting aspect as my life at the time seemed boring - surely the days in the lives of these people were filled with more to write home about. When commuting to the lab, dressed in my daggy clothes, I wondered what all those guys in their suits did during the day. I was also curious when confronted with an emaciated and intoxicated thirty year old woman one day. Her ears were bleeding, having botched an attempt to pierce her ears. Earrings in hand, she asked me if I could help her put them on for her. I thought about it for a while (when I tell people of this story they are surprised that the thought of helping her even crossed my mind) but eventually declined in as polite a way as I could.

A year or so later I found myself riding a train home sometime after midnight, having been socializing with some friends from grad school that evening (a pretty rare event for me, being a rather quiet soul). My section of the carriage was populated with precisely two people: myself and a man sitting some five rows in front of me. Buried in a novel (from memory it was Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets), I was startled when the man was standing right next to me, requesting that he use my cellphone to make an urgent call. I told the man no, and that he could get off at the next stop and use the payphone. He asked again. Same answer. After a further request I caved and handed my phone to the man, who promptly sat down beside me. He dialed a number, but didn't seem at all anxious as one might be in an urgent situation. Talking in some African language, he began a seemingly friendly conversation, punctuated with fits of laughter. I didn't need a babelfish in my ear to tell that it seemed like he just wanted to chat with an old friend. Some emergency, huh? I glanced at him but he was too absorbed in his conversation to acknowledge my existence. Some minutes later I asked him if he could wrap it up - and he held his hand out and said he'd only be a couple minutes more. After what seemed like an eternity I asked him again and he hung up and pressed a few buttons. I alighted a couple stops later, staggered home, and collapsed in my bed. Two weeks later I got my phone bill. Everything was normal except for a 20 min call to Sierra Leone. Oh, and he'd also deleted the call record. Jerk. As an epilogue, after a chemistry departmental party a month later, I rode the train home but was apparently tired enough to miss my stop. Getting off at Hornsby, I looked for a train in the opposite direction but it was so late that only buses were running. So I lined up at the bus stop. After some minutes a man  tapped me on the back and asked if I could lend him my phone for an emergency call. I turn around and there he was. And you can guess my answer to his question.

Yoga

Wow...long time no post. To be honest, not much has happened to me of late...or at least nothing that I deemed worthy of a blog post. Because only really important and meaningful stuff is allowed on blogs, right?

I once heard David Swenson, yogi extraordinaire, talk of his youth in Texas. As a teen his asana practice was already very advanced and he took it upon himself to teach fellow yogis (many of whom were much older than him) how to turn their bodies into pretzels. He did this in a local park and was soon confronted with none other than the police, sirens blaring and officers shouting at him to cease his practice. Apparently it appeared as if he were leading some type of cult, something the conservative local cops were not keen on. Clearly, it seemed, arranging your body into something resembling a tree (vrksasana) would result in an apocalypse. Come to think of it, it was probably scorpion pose (vrishchikasana) or warrior II (virabhadrasana II) that set the alarm bells off. They look a lot more badass. Seriously, get over it - yoga is not some kinda of black art. There is no double, double toil and trouble (OK, there might be a bit of toiling - asanas can be hard work!). In his commentary on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, Swami Satchidananda clearly states that yoga cannot change any external objects or other people. Duh...that would be impossible. There are, after all, laws of physics. So if yoga can't change things then what's the point? Turns out it affects  the way we see others - we appreciate them for their true selves, as our mind is free of mental modifications (i.e. distorted ideas, false assumptions, old habits, etc.). If yoga cannot alter the outside world then surely it can alter us, right? In fact, it turns out that yoga can't even really create or destroy anything inside even the yogi! In Stephen Mitchell's commentary to the Bhagavad Gita he says that this millenia-old tale (and yoga in general) "has nothing to teach. Everything essential that it points to - what we call wisdom or radiance or peace - is already present within us." So yoga is NOT some kind of witchcraft - we yogis cannot conjure something out of nothing. Satchidananda points out that "all knowledge is within you and you need not get it from outside." Basically, this means that we've all already got all this awesomeness within us. We just need yoga to unlock this potential. This also goes for the physical (asana) aspect. I've seen unfit novice yogis surprise themselves by getting into crow pose (bakasana) in their first class. For a long time I thought I never in my life would be able to perform revolved triangle (parivrtta trikonanasana). But, thanks to my trainer Heather, I got there! Satchidananda  gives the analogy that when we reflect on ourselves it's like seeing our inner self in a mirror. If our mind is unfocussed the mirror is dirty and we cannot see ourselves for who were are. When we meditate we clean the metaphorical mirror and see our true radiant selves. And when we leave our mats we see our friends for who they are and end up being happier, nicer people :)

So I'm kinda psyched about my yoga right now. Because of yoga I'm not half as shy as I was three years ago and I feel like this is really going to help me live my life and stop me being a lifelong wallflower. The practice has given me so much confidence and I'm really excited to show others how to unlock their true potential. Anyway, so I'm finally leaving the Midwest (albeit for less than a week!) for a vacation so maybe I'll have more interesting (and less heavy!) stuff to write about then :)