tomorrow the third week begins. The 3rd and 4th week, we were warned, were the times when people would start experiencing 'drama.' She must know this from experience because I'm finding her words to already speak true. I've already been embroiled in my own little mini-drama. Admittedly, it was of my own creation, three confusing cases of puppy love that seemed to go nowhere. Very confusing. You'd think I'd know something about women by this time (I'm 31) but apparently I do not...(elaboration to come in later posts).
I can feel the emotions bubbling up more than usual. The tedium and fatigue that sets in during the long days definitely does irritate and provoke curious thoughts and a hunger for anything else to replace the monotony.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Monday, April 17, 2006
The dust gets stirred up...
Warning: self indulgent (according to Bikram 'mental masturbation'= mental ruminations) writing ahead
For me, this teacher training represents many things.
1.Improving my practice.
2.Learning more abou the yoga.
3.Learning more about myself.
It's the third point that is the most important part of the teacher training.
It's certainly something that is at the forefront of my thoughts at the moment.
The last few days in exile have heightened my new feelings of being rather adrift. It's not something I felt when I began this program nor something I was expecting. I thought it was just gonig to be something to do during the spring and summer to occupy the months... I never thought it would get... emotional.
What's weird is that I'm being confronted by the same emotional patterns and situations that I've experienced in the past. (I certainly won't go into specifics... not on this public site... no way! but I will tell you it has to do with relationships) I don't think it is a coincidence that today I found myself in that same situation...
Today we were still a displaced lot. The fire department had still barred us from the Bikram College so we had class at the LAX Westin hotel ballroom. After a miserably cold class taught by a very apologetic Rajashree (Bikram's wife), we sat quietly in savasana. She read us her favorite poem.
Lying, listening quietly in the dark I found myself getting choked up.
It felt like the poem was written specifically to address me (although I'd say most in the room could say the same thing). Maybe it wasn't a coincidence that I got Rajashree's copy after class.
The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your
fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."
It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after a night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.
I guess what I have to keep in mind (fervently keep in mind) is that this program is going to be what I make of it. I've already felt myself get somewhat sidetracked by other concerns. More specifically, I found myself growing preoccupied by expectations of things that have not yet happened, all the while ignoring the pleasant realities (friends, wisedom, love) in front of me. Like the guru says, the self is the most important thing we have...
For me, this teacher training represents many things.
1.Improving my practice.
2.Learning more abou the yoga.
3.Learning more about myself.
It's the third point that is the most important part of the teacher training.
It's certainly something that is at the forefront of my thoughts at the moment.
The last few days in exile have heightened my new feelings of being rather adrift. It's not something I felt when I began this program nor something I was expecting. I thought it was just gonig to be something to do during the spring and summer to occupy the months... I never thought it would get... emotional.
What's weird is that I'm being confronted by the same emotional patterns and situations that I've experienced in the past. (I certainly won't go into specifics... not on this public site... no way! but I will tell you it has to do with relationships) I don't think it is a coincidence that today I found myself in that same situation...
Today we were still a displaced lot. The fire department had still barred us from the Bikram College so we had class at the LAX Westin hotel ballroom. After a miserably cold class taught by a very apologetic Rajashree (Bikram's wife), we sat quietly in savasana. She read us her favorite poem.
Lying, listening quietly in the dark I found myself getting choked up.
It felt like the poem was written specifically to address me (although I'd say most in the room could say the same thing). Maybe it wasn't a coincidence that I got Rajashree's copy after class.
The Invitation
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dreams
for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your
fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand on the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
"Yes."
It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after a night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.
It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.
I guess what I have to keep in mind (fervently keep in mind) is that this program is going to be what I make of it. I've already felt myself get somewhat sidetracked by other concerns. More specifically, I found myself growing preoccupied by expectations of things that have not yet happened, all the while ignoring the pleasant realities (friends, wisedom, love) in front of me. Like the guru says, the self is the most important thing we have...
Friday, April 14, 2006
Since there are no Bikram news today...
Since Bikram Headquarters is temporarily shut down until they get new fire doors, I'll have to write about other things...
Both the rain today and my recent
enounter with something achingly beautiful
from Montreal compelled me to pull something
out of an old journal about a day long ago
in Monteral Canada...
It was spring and I was walking through old Montreal with Sally. The last few days were overcast and the skies that day were grey and full. In sharp contrast to the dark, gloomy canadian weather, we were a bright, beaming thing and entirely in love.
Our relationship was still fresh and new. We had met at medical school a few weeks earlier and had fallen quickly for each other. It happened so effortlessly. The long awkward courtship rituals that seem to plague my relationships prior and past were absent when we met. There was a familiarity and a rapport, the electricity of attraction, and boiling intelligence to our conversations. My first morning waking next to her, I knew that I had just been handed a lottery size chunk of my emotional life. I wasn't scared, in fact, staring into her beautiful face and honest blue eyes made this nihilist believe in everything.
Walking along the cobblestones down the narrow streets, we followed the byzantine maze wherever it lead. While peering into shops (and sometimes people's apartments) she spoke of how this place reminded her of Austria, particularly Salzberg (where she studied during college). I listened with rapt attention. Partly trying to learn every bit about this amazing person but also encouraging her to speak so I wouldn't have to...
Those were strange days for me. I was well past the halfway point in my studies. Most of the lectures were finished and I was actively engaged in my clinical training. During this time when I should have been planning my future residency, I had begun serious considerations about leaving medical school. Whatever passion I had starting out was long exhausted. The work itself wasn't difficult, actually academics was never an issue. It was the tedium. I felt the work was just leeching something important from me. It was during this period, while these dangerous, inchoate thoughts were still coalescing, I met Sally.
On some nameless quiet street the first few drops of rain fell. We stared up like most people do in dumb surprise squinting at the sky (must be behavioral vestige from primitive times). Quickly it began raining in earnest and we found ourselves deluged by sheets of water. Letting out a shrill scream of surprise and amusement Sally grabbed my hand and together we ran back the way we had come.
After what seemed like an eternity of running, her screams evolving into peals of laughter, I realized that this crazy woman would shortly have us swimming back to our hotel room. By sheer luck, I pulled her into the first establishment I spied to my right. Our grasped hands jerked momentarily, she stood dazed at the break of her forward momentum, still enthralled in the spell of her mad but waning reverie she allowed me to lead her inside.
Passing the threshold we were greeted with the smell of strong coffee, fresh pastries, and quiet music. The cafe was large and eclectic but tasteful (like most of Montreal), furnished with sofas and tables strewn about in haphazard but cozy fashion. The place was largely lit by the large poster window facing the flooded street that we had just left. Leaving her at the table by the window, I went to get us something warm to drink.
While pouring cream into our cups I watched Sally watching the rain lash the windows (as well as the occasional stray french canadian who didn't have sense to get out of the rain). I remember trying to drink in every detail. Her large eyes, full lips, and the delicate line of her neck, even the way she wrinkled her face at some rain up her nose, I knew that this was important. I knew that this moment, this memory, would be more valuable than anything I studied in the last three years.
In that brief, private moment, something was unveiled to me about human need. My need. Whatever made life into biology wasn't the same as those things that made it into poetry. That the emptiness, dissatisfaction, ennui, I was experiencing in my life was because of the lack of this...This grace. Scores of weighty medical tomes that made up my past had just been trumped by a single mad dash down a cobblestone street.
I may not have consciously realize the road this insight had placed me, Illumination is often found in the province of retrospect. It wouldn’t be another few months when serious decisions and changes would be made. Really, at that moment it didn't matter. Sally wasn't yet a metaphor or abstract inspiration of my awakening or something altogether cheesy like that. At that moment she was just a beautiful person with whom I was sharing coffee and a slice of life.
As I reached the table, I placed the steaming cups down. She looked up with a happy smile. 'Oh you got muffins too!' she exclaimed. Smiling, I leaned down and kissed her.
I just couldn't help it.
Best Rainy day of my life.
Both the rain today and my recent
enounter with something achingly beautiful
from Montreal compelled me to pull something
out of an old journal about a day long ago
in Monteral Canada...
It was spring and I was walking through old Montreal with Sally. The last few days were overcast and the skies that day were grey and full. In sharp contrast to the dark, gloomy canadian weather, we were a bright, beaming thing and entirely in love.
Our relationship was still fresh and new. We had met at medical school a few weeks earlier and had fallen quickly for each other. It happened so effortlessly. The long awkward courtship rituals that seem to plague my relationships prior and past were absent when we met. There was a familiarity and a rapport, the electricity of attraction, and boiling intelligence to our conversations. My first morning waking next to her, I knew that I had just been handed a lottery size chunk of my emotional life. I wasn't scared, in fact, staring into her beautiful face and honest blue eyes made this nihilist believe in everything.
Walking along the cobblestones down the narrow streets, we followed the byzantine maze wherever it lead. While peering into shops (and sometimes people's apartments) she spoke of how this place reminded her of Austria, particularly Salzberg (where she studied during college). I listened with rapt attention. Partly trying to learn every bit about this amazing person but also encouraging her to speak so I wouldn't have to...
Those were strange days for me. I was well past the halfway point in my studies. Most of the lectures were finished and I was actively engaged in my clinical training. During this time when I should have been planning my future residency, I had begun serious considerations about leaving medical school. Whatever passion I had starting out was long exhausted. The work itself wasn't difficult, actually academics was never an issue. It was the tedium. I felt the work was just leeching something important from me. It was during this period, while these dangerous, inchoate thoughts were still coalescing, I met Sally.
On some nameless quiet street the first few drops of rain fell. We stared up like most people do in dumb surprise squinting at the sky (must be behavioral vestige from primitive times). Quickly it began raining in earnest and we found ourselves deluged by sheets of water. Letting out a shrill scream of surprise and amusement Sally grabbed my hand and together we ran back the way we had come.
After what seemed like an eternity of running, her screams evolving into peals of laughter, I realized that this crazy woman would shortly have us swimming back to our hotel room. By sheer luck, I pulled her into the first establishment I spied to my right. Our grasped hands jerked momentarily, she stood dazed at the break of her forward momentum, still enthralled in the spell of her mad but waning reverie she allowed me to lead her inside.
Passing the threshold we were greeted with the smell of strong coffee, fresh pastries, and quiet music. The cafe was large and eclectic but tasteful (like most of Montreal), furnished with sofas and tables strewn about in haphazard but cozy fashion. The place was largely lit by the large poster window facing the flooded street that we had just left. Leaving her at the table by the window, I went to get us something warm to drink.
While pouring cream into our cups I watched Sally watching the rain lash the windows (as well as the occasional stray french canadian who didn't have sense to get out of the rain). I remember trying to drink in every detail. Her large eyes, full lips, and the delicate line of her neck, even the way she wrinkled her face at some rain up her nose, I knew that this was important. I knew that this moment, this memory, would be more valuable than anything I studied in the last three years.
In that brief, private moment, something was unveiled to me about human need. My need. Whatever made life into biology wasn't the same as those things that made it into poetry. That the emptiness, dissatisfaction, ennui, I was experiencing in my life was because of the lack of this...This grace. Scores of weighty medical tomes that made up my past had just been trumped by a single mad dash down a cobblestone street.
I may not have consciously realize the road this insight had placed me, Illumination is often found in the province of retrospect. It wouldn’t be another few months when serious decisions and changes would be made. Really, at that moment it didn't matter. Sally wasn't yet a metaphor or abstract inspiration of my awakening or something altogether cheesy like that. At that moment she was just a beautiful person with whom I was sharing coffee and a slice of life.
As I reached the table, I placed the steaming cups down. She looked up with a happy smile. 'Oh you got muffins too!' she exclaimed. Smiling, I leaned down and kissed her.
I just couldn't help it.
Best Rainy day of my life.
'I hate drama' or 'We have no Bikram Today'
Bikram's large yoga room doesn't have the proper doors that meet the city's fire code. So I've missed both the Thursday afternoon and Both classes on Friday. It's been somewhat depressing. I felt like I was having a very strong experience. It's raining hard today as well which doesn't exactly lighten my disposition...(I also
had an AWFUL class this morning at Studio City as well).
had an AWFUL class this morning at Studio City as well).
Monday, April 10, 2006
Jesus and Hitler
It's late and I have to study dialogue tonight.
But we met Bikram today. All I have to say is that I found
the guru to be true to everything I've ever heard. He is frankly everything I ever
wanted in a guru...
The Funny thing he said was that his 'old self,' who wanted to be a fighter
pilot was like hitler (a nietzschesque uber-man who wanted to
bomb Pakistan) but after his tremmendous transformation he now
was a 50%-50% Jesus Hitler hybrid.
God do I love that man.
But we met Bikram today. All I have to say is that I found
the guru to be true to everything I've ever heard. He is frankly everything I ever
wanted in a guru...
The Funny thing he said was that his 'old self,' who wanted to be a fighter
pilot was like hitler (a nietzschesque uber-man who wanted to
bomb Pakistan) but after his tremmendous transformation he now
was a 50%-50% Jesus Hitler hybrid.
God do I love that man.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Oh.. a funny thing I just remembered
As Rajashree (Bikram's wife) was admonishing us first, about staying out of relationships, and second, about not getting pregnant (a medical miracle in my case), I thought of something a psychic once told me.
Being an acupuncturist, you associate with all kinds of people. The professional. The educated. The wise. The insane, and the esoteric. There is a reliable psychic (I realize how funny that sounds) referred by a very wise colleague of mine. This woman told me various things about my future, a lot which has come to pass.
A year ago she told me I would be teaching. At the time I thought she was speaking about teaching acupuncture (which I had no and still have no desire to do). The last time we spoke she also told me that I would be back in school (at the time I thought she was nuts). But here I am in yoga teacher training.
What's even wilder is that she told me that I would meet a person of 'significance' at said school. Like 'your future wife' significant. I got a little weirded out this morning(I can always tell this because I get his nervous smile that makes me look insane. I can feel it growing on my face even as I'm writing).
It's funny. This Yoga training could have a larger sigificance to my life than just making me a good teacher and tightening my butt. This one event could change my life forever. But realistically there nothing I really can do with this information. It's like getting the weather report. Until you see what tomorrow looks like, tomorrow's forecast isn't worth the paper its printed on.
I'll just continue with living my life. Eating my cereal the same sexy way that I always do :)
Life is pretty weird though and more unexpected things have happened in life (Hey I was convinced six years ago that, by this time, I would a fat balding pissed off physician finishing off his residency in neurology or psychiatry. Probably married with a mortgage living in an east coast suburb).
I shrugged off these ruminations this morning and resumed listening to Rajashree but I did continue to wonder what it would be like to be the first pregnant man on earth.
Send your comments to me and I'll post them: emillkim@hotmail.com
Being an acupuncturist, you associate with all kinds of people. The professional. The educated. The wise. The insane, and the esoteric. There is a reliable psychic (I realize how funny that sounds) referred by a very wise colleague of mine. This woman told me various things about my future, a lot which has come to pass.
A year ago she told me I would be teaching. At the time I thought she was speaking about teaching acupuncture (which I had no and still have no desire to do). The last time we spoke she also told me that I would be back in school (at the time I thought she was nuts). But here I am in yoga teacher training.
What's even wilder is that she told me that I would meet a person of 'significance' at said school. Like 'your future wife' significant. I got a little weirded out this morning(I can always tell this because I get his nervous smile that makes me look insane. I can feel it growing on my face even as I'm writing).
It's funny. This Yoga training could have a larger sigificance to my life than just making me a good teacher and tightening my butt. This one event could change my life forever. But realistically there nothing I really can do with this information. It's like getting the weather report. Until you see what tomorrow looks like, tomorrow's forecast isn't worth the paper its printed on.
I'll just continue with living my life. Eating my cereal the same sexy way that I always do :)
Life is pretty weird though and more unexpected things have happened in life (Hey I was convinced six years ago that, by this time, I would a fat balding pissed off physician finishing off his residency in neurology or psychiatry. Probably married with a mortgage living in an east coast suburb).
I shrugged off these ruminations this morning and resumed listening to Rajashree but I did continue to wonder what it would be like to be the first pregnant man on earth.
Send your comments to me and I'll post them: emillkim@hotmail.com
My First Day...
Wow.
That's how I'll start this journal.
I arrived at Bikram Yoga headquarters in Los Angeles and was greeted by an assembled crowd from the United nations. Not literally of course but it seemed that there was someone from every well-known and obscure corner of the United States as well as representatives from all over the world.
Japan
France
The UK
New Zeland
Thailand
What was more suprising was heterogeneity of the assembled crowd. I guess I still carry some old stereotypes because I was expecting everyone to be lanky 20 and 30 somethings who just stepped out of a Lululemon or Prana Ad. Flexible, chic organic alternative, wearing a lot of hemp and soled in sandals.
Wrong.
Students ranged in age from 19 to 50. There was the tall, short, lanky, and stout. There were those who looked somewhat manky like they stepped out of the woods and others who would look natural on Rodeo Drive sipping a latte (Big Sunglasses yakking on tiny cell phones). There was even a guy who looked like Napolean Dynamite.
We received an introduction from Rajashree. She is Bikram Choudry's beautiful and elegant wife. We were also introducted to the director of training. His name is Craig. A stocky, powerful looking guy. He speaks well and is very articulate, clear, and engaging but there is something in his demeanor. A steeliness and seriousness that makes me a little anxious. I thought with a small laugh, 'Like Jeff on a Tuesday afternoon.'
Speaking of which I ran into Jeff. He gave me a hug and wished me well. It was a gesture that I really appreciated especially when I was trying to orient myself to this new chaotic enivronment. I also ran into other familiar faces. There was a woman named Carol who used to practice at Pasadena for about a year. She would often travel to Florida for business. A few months ago she left permanently for the Sunshine state (I always thought that was our nickname). The other person that I ran into was a living myth. He was a person who came to our studio once on a 8:00 am Saturday class a few months back. I arrived at the studio a few minutes before the end of the 8 o'clock class and was greeted by the regular sweaty egressing horde. I ran into my friend Taleen who was wearing this look of amazement. She proceeded to tell me about this shorter asian guy, in his first class, doing the Bikram Postures with the flexiblity and grace of a prodigy rivaling even our in-house champion.
Guess what...I ran into THAT guy
It seems that he's been practicing for years at another studio and was just staying with a friend in Pasadena. He actually recognized me from the studio. His name is Tua. This urban legend and I might carpool together.
We ended the evening with a traditionaly yoga Dinner: Sushi and Chinese food. I was hoping for some Daal and Vindaloo but it was good all the same. I have a feeling that this should be an apt metaphor for the entire teacher training: Expect to have my expectation be challenged.
It'll be a good thing.
please send me your comments to greetings to emillkim@hotmail.com (not the comment button below) and I'll post them.
That's how I'll start this journal.
I arrived at Bikram Yoga headquarters in Los Angeles and was greeted by an assembled crowd from the United nations. Not literally of course but it seemed that there was someone from every well-known and obscure corner of the United States as well as representatives from all over the world.
Japan
France
The UK
New Zeland
Thailand
What was more suprising was heterogeneity of the assembled crowd. I guess I still carry some old stereotypes because I was expecting everyone to be lanky 20 and 30 somethings who just stepped out of a Lululemon or Prana Ad. Flexible, chic organic alternative, wearing a lot of hemp and soled in sandals.
Wrong.
Students ranged in age from 19 to 50. There was the tall, short, lanky, and stout. There were those who looked somewhat manky like they stepped out of the woods and others who would look natural on Rodeo Drive sipping a latte (Big Sunglasses yakking on tiny cell phones). There was even a guy who looked like Napolean Dynamite.
We received an introduction from Rajashree. She is Bikram Choudry's beautiful and elegant wife. We were also introducted to the director of training. His name is Craig. A stocky, powerful looking guy. He speaks well and is very articulate, clear, and engaging but there is something in his demeanor. A steeliness and seriousness that makes me a little anxious. I thought with a small laugh, 'Like Jeff on a Tuesday afternoon.'
Speaking of which I ran into Jeff. He gave me a hug and wished me well. It was a gesture that I really appreciated especially when I was trying to orient myself to this new chaotic enivronment. I also ran into other familiar faces. There was a woman named Carol who used to practice at Pasadena for about a year. She would often travel to Florida for business. A few months ago she left permanently for the Sunshine state (I always thought that was our nickname). The other person that I ran into was a living myth. He was a person who came to our studio once on a 8:00 am Saturday class a few months back. I arrived at the studio a few minutes before the end of the 8 o'clock class and was greeted by the regular sweaty egressing horde. I ran into my friend Taleen who was wearing this look of amazement. She proceeded to tell me about this shorter asian guy, in his first class, doing the Bikram Postures with the flexiblity and grace of a prodigy rivaling even our in-house champion.
Guess what...I ran into THAT guy
It seems that he's been practicing for years at another studio and was just staying with a friend in Pasadena. He actually recognized me from the studio. His name is Tua. This urban legend and I might carpool together.
We ended the evening with a traditionaly yoga Dinner: Sushi and Chinese food. I was hoping for some Daal and Vindaloo but it was good all the same. I have a feeling that this should be an apt metaphor for the entire teacher training: Expect to have my expectation be challenged.
It'll be a good thing.
please send me your comments to greetings to emillkim@hotmail.com (not the comment button below) and I'll post them.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
The Beginning
This blog will probably start close to April 9th 2006 (the first day of
teacher training). So wait with bated breath...
teacher training). So wait with bated breath...
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