Sunday, October 14, 2001

return of the cockroach // Week 2 behind me. A major accomplishment.

I don't pay much attention to the world outside the studio. The most news I get is a glance at the headlines of the LA Times in the distribution boxes as I walk past them. Are we all going to die from anthrax? If so, it would render this training program moot, I suppose. Somehow, I persevere in hopes of furtherance.

There are a lot of multi-themed restaurants here. Thai/Burgers/Burritos and Chinese/Tacos/Donuts are two of the more common combinations. As gastronomically adventurous as I am I still haven't had the courage to try one. Oh yeah, there are also donut shops on every corner.

I found an unspent bullet on the floor at the laundromat. Did it fall out of someone's pocket as they were loading a washer? What would happen if it made it into a dryer set on high? There were two televisions sets embedded in the wall above the bank of dryers. One was showing a boxing match and the other was showing semi-pornographic music videos. There was a family of three, momma, poppa and little girl of about five or six, sitting together in a position that allowed them to watch both screens alternately by turning their heads left and right as if watching a tennis match. The boxing match was brutal, two young latino-looking men, sweat-drenched, bloody, bodies clenched together, faces forced into grimaces by plastic teeth-guards whose purpose is ostensibly protection but in reality seem to function better as facial distortion apparatuses. The other screen was showing a music video featuring caricatures of women as sex-bombs each of whom had puffy blood-red lips, spiked leather mini-bikinis and g-strings, large artificially spherical breasts and jiggly, wiggling butt cheeks that took the most of the screen time. So here's this family, including this little girl, whose heads are bouncing back and forth between the two screens and here's me holding a bullet in one hand and loading my wet clothes into a dryer with the other. For a split second I considered tossing the bullet in with the clothes. Who among us would be worse off if it fired and killed someone?

I went to Pasadena last Sunday. It may have started me thinking like a terrorist. Main Street, Pasadena is Main Street, USA. In short, it's a mall without a roof. There is a suburban mall culture that is taking over our cities and our country to my great dismay. One of the most exciting aspects of travel and visiting new cities is to be exposed to culture and lifestyles that differ from each other. It is therefore frightening to me to see a bland, homogeneous, pre-fab consumer architecture and mentality spreading throughout the land. Isn't Pasadena supposed to be a California city? Why then, does it look like Lenox Mall? Who wants to live in a homogenized world? Maybe terrorists are simply white blood cells attacking and attempting to neutralize a nasty fungus which is spreading uncontrollably across the planet. Would you please pass the anthrax?

My second week of yoga was almost more difficult than the first. The second Monday has been the most difficult day thus far. My body was much more resistant, stiff and sore after a day and half of rest. I also began experiencing other effects beyond the expected physical stress, the worst of which was insomnia. As of Tuesday night I found myself unable to sleep more than an average of 4 hours a night. The first instance was nightmarish and included the exaggerated sounds of a rat scrambling around the kitchen and my own Poe-like heartbeat. Subsequent nights were less tortuous but still contributed to me having a strained and emotional week. My brain was turning to mush and I was emotionally trigger-happy. I even took a sleeping pill on Friday night and only slept four hours. I might not have minded the lack of sleep if I wasn't feeling so addled by it. I could use a little extra study time for my dialogues and anatomy but my ability to focus and my capacity for retention were greatly diminished. Bikram claims to only sleep about an hour a night -- the thought frightens me. Sleep is my ultimate respite, it's how I replenish my energy and refresh my brain. I can imagine adjusting to a lifestyle that requires less sleep than I am accustomed to if that's where this yoga practice will ultimately lead. However, I would hope that it would be a gradual transition and that it wouldn't have a detrimental effect on my faculties. Fortunately, after having only one class and the rest of the day off, I slept nine hours last night.

The training itself, the postures, the anatomy classes, the dialogue presentations, aren't going too badly. The most difficult part of my day is staying awake during anatomy class. The next biggest challenge is memorizing the dialogues and presenting them to the rest of the class, although those are getting easier as we progress. One of the hardest aspects of the presentations is listening to the few people who really aren't cut out for public speaking. Some of them get so frightened that they literally lose their ability to speak. The difficulty isn't the same as it might be if one were merely suffering through a speech being delivered by a poor speaker. There's another dynamic at play that makes me feel personally connected to the speaker's discomfort. One woman struggled so hard, unsuccessfully, to find words that she just started bawling. What makes it so hard to watch is that, given my fragile emotional state, I start empathizing so strongly that I begin to bawl myself. It's like she is just a reflection of the part of me that's a frightened six year old who wants to run home and hide from the world. I'm not bawling for her -- she is bawling for me. I suspect my experience in this regard is shared by many other students. Modest applause is given after each student completes their presentation and the loudest, longest applause was given for this woman.

Speaking of applause, this group applauds almost everything. They (we, I suppose, although I'm stingier with my applause than most) clap when classes finish, when Bikram interrupts a class to show off his new shoes, when studio staff make announcements and just about whenever anything happens. I'm sure I'd receive a standing ovation if I announced a successful shit.

I'm feeling shitty as I write this. I've had a cold since Tuesday but it kicked into high gear last night. I was initially worried that it would inhibit my practice but it didn't. In fact, as long as I was doing two classes a day I wasn't feeling the effects of the cold very strongly. It didn't hit hard until the weekend came and I began resting. I was hoping that my body would respond quickly to the increased practice and feel strong and healthy after my first week. In a sense it has -- the muscle fatigue I'm feeling is almost exhilarating and I had feeling of vibrancy and alertness after finishing the last class of the week on Saturday morning -- but the cold has ruined it, especially since last night. Of course, it's not at all surprising that I've caught this cold. The studio is probably an ideal breeding ground for bacteria: almost three hundred sweating bodies in a heated, carpeted room with little fresh air and almost no sunlight; an inch of water on the bathroom floor; no time for cleaning crews or to let the place dry out between classes; physical exertion beyond what most of us are conditioned for. Even Bikram and Rajashree, two world class yoga practicioners, have been sick.

In response to some of the complaints that have been made about the conditions of the studio Bikram has said that when we are in the studio we are not in America, we are in Calcutta. In general, he's not sympathetic to complaints of any kind. Having said that, though, I must add that I have decided not to write much about Bikram or his teachings. Taken out of context and with my limited experiences with him I don't think it would be fair to try to explain the man or what I think he's about. He seems to have a carefully crafted style of interaction and teaching and I'm not sure it would be possible for me to communicate to you what I am only beginning to understand. I will say this, though: he defies expectations. The most helpful realization I have had is that he's an amalgam of eastern and western cultures. He was born, raised and became a yogi in a traditional Indian manner yet he has embraced America and American culture (even as he is critical of much of it). He is therefore more enigmatic to me than if here were simply from a different culture. I feel fortunate that I have the ability to step away from my expectations and to simply be open to this experience.

I'm sure not everyone here shares my feelings. There are some people whose expectations are preventing them from having any fun or from participating fully. I have heard more than a few people making it known that they are displeased with what they are getting for their money. It's as if they are think of themselves as customers of the program rather than students or adherents. And everybody in America knows that the customer is always right, right? Personally, I consider the hardships of the program to be as important to my experience here as anything else. I came because I was willing and ready to be challenged and it wouldn't be very challenging if my comfort was high on the list of priorities, would it?

The studio provides us with a suggestion box for complaints, requests and feedback. Many of the comments are read aloud and shared with the entire group. One of the requests was surprising to me. After stubbing their toe on the leg of a bench in the women's locker room someone requested that the studio have all the bench legs padded in order to prevent injury. I almost couldn't believe it. Isn't yoga about self-realization? Wouldn't that include being aware of where one is walking and placing their feet?

There's a lot of other un-yogi like behavior being exhibited but fortunately, it isn't the dominant mode of operation. Most of the people are serious, dedicated, jovial, supportive, and generally interesting to be around. There's a widespread feeling of comraderie and encouragment among most of the students. Oddly in conjunction with that is a sense of familiarity I feel with a lot of people. Many of them even look familar to me. It's a little bizarre and reminds me of the homecomeing scene in The Wizard of Oz where Dorothy looks at her friends and family exclaiming to each of them how they were there with her only she didn't realize it until now. It's also not unlike a similar experience I had once on acid...

Of course, some of you now are thinking to yourselves that I must therefore be surrounded by people with whom I've shared previous lives with and to you I am happy to report that Bikram shares my sentiments regarding reincarnation. Someone asked him about it and his reply sounded much like the one I learned from an early teacher of mine called Hugh Davey. Past lives have little or no relevance to this one. It's not a question of whether or not we have had past lives or will have future lives -- it's simply more practical to be focused on the life we are living now regardless of what has been or what may come to be. In my last life I might have been a cockroach and my interaction with you might have been when you stepped on me. There's not much about the experience of a cockroach that can be elaborated on beyond, "eat, shit, fuck, avoid getting stepped on" and I don't hold it against you for stepping on me.

Thus ends my weekly installment. Thanks to all who send encouragement and support. I have limited time or energy for email correspondence and this weekly update takes up most of it so I am not able to reply with more than a few words to each individual message. I am also not able to do more than one STUFF transmission a week. Please keep writing, though, because I do find it easy enough to check and read my email most nights before crashing. I enjoy hearing from you.

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