Red Elephant

Age is how you feel it

So, Max made some ado about his birthday yesterday. I can't help feeling that it came out of a conversation we started during the Yeah Yeah Yeahs concert.

But let's take a step back, see if I can put you in the scene. Pun intended.

I'm late to the concert for a variety of reasons, including an extra ticket that I can't sell or give away. I get into the show and get into line for a drink, a line which is ridiculously long. Long because it's the final break in between sets before the YYYs come on. I'm people watching, as you do, especially as you do when you come alone. I see a few faces I know & nod.

After waiting for twenty minutes in line, the band comes on and the area in front of the bar clears out. I grab my drink and look around to see if I can find a decent place to see the stage. I hear my name shouted, turn around, and see Max waving me over. He's in the back of a suddenly very short line, and standing with a couple of guys. He says, "Meet these guys. I'm buying them beer. This guy just turned 21."

I think that's where it started. Max started spinning yarns about seeing Morphine & other shows back in the day at Sokol. The kid starts talking about shoegaze, and I can see the generation gap. Max buys him a coke, and the other guy in line a beer, and we head over to where his wife and some other friends are.

We're watching from the fringe, stage left to be precise. We can see occasional glimpses of the band through the speakers, but we're really more just at the show rather than part of the crowd.
He says that he feels old. He points that we're watching the show from the edge rather than getting down in front and going berserk.

"But you could be," I said.

Max isn't one to shy away from the pit, from getting down to John Spencer, to Morphine, or Gwar, if memory serves me right. But I see what he means. We're the old guys in back, watching from the fringe. That's the rule, isn't it? That as you get older, the farther back you stand. That you're less a part of the frenzy, and more just there to watch.

I remember one of the first concerts I saw in high school, Soul Asylum at the Civic Auditorium. We started out up in the seats, but by the end all I wanted to do was be on the floor in the middle of it all. So, I went.

Nowadays, I'm as likely to be hanging back, enjoying an adult beverage, as I am to try to push to center stage in front of the band. Sure, catch me at a Faint show, and I'll be shaking my ass in the middle of the crowd, on the edge, wherever. Hell, I have friends older than me that are always pushing up as close as they can get.

But I don't think it was just the distance Max was talking about. He said that whenever he sees kids -- actual kids, high schoolers -- he just has to smile and pay respect to those days. He even gives props to the younger college kids, but it's the spirit of youth he's talking about. The getting silly drunk, having bad sex, and the most of your worries be about the test/exam this week.

Never mind that those of us pushing 30 -- some of us in less than a week -- have on our mind:  mortgages, day jobs, wives, husbands, children, dogs, whatever. As opposed to the blissful ignorance of school days, we've got plenty to keep us grounded.

On the other hand, Max did think that being a comic book artist was pretty cool. That it gave him a little more credibility than just wearing old school vans, or being the guy at the concert down front with the band's shirt on.

Personally, I like being this seasoned. [cough, old, cough] I think I've really got the best of both worlds. I can go to a show, and not wake up with a cheap beer hangover. I can be good at what I do, and not be so caught up in the identity crisis that is high school/college. I'm not just studying to be something. No disrespect to studying. I still study yoga as well as being a yoga teacher. The difference is in potential versus actuality. I will be someday versus I am.

I am a yoga teacher. I am an office manager. I am a guy with a house. I am a guy who goes to rock shows. And yes, I am almost 30.

I feel like I get the best of both worlds. I'm lucky to keep a few stars in my eyes, even if I'm a bit jaded around the edges. I'm not as concerned about what people think about me, what I wear in public, whether people are watching what I do and approving. Sure, I have to give the kids respect for their immortality, their blissful ignorance, and their own set of problems.

But I also have to give respect to us kids at heart. We're only the old guys, and we're only in back, when we choose to be.

Yogaversary and other delights

Last night's class marks one year since I started teaching yoga, and I think I'm starting to get the hang of it.

I think I've gotten the most out of developing my own practice. Sure, going to classes is a great way to learn, but it really comes down to whether you can internalize the lessons, whether you can teach yourself, whether you can figure out what you're doing right and wrong.

I've also drawn inspiration from my teachers. Jed, who I've been studying with the past few years, has really gotten me interested in exploring things a bit more. It's not just doing the same poses over and over -- though there is some of that -- but listening to my own body. I've started off practices just stretching out, seeing what's tight, and seeing if I can make it feel better.

Another way I've approached my own practice is to take something that I learned in class or a workshop and break it down. For example, I have some students who just don't like Ardha Chandrasana [Half Moon Pose]. I've been trying to find other ways to approach the pose, rather than launching from Utthita Trikonasana, as most people do.

It's somewhat similar to Virabhadrasana III [Warrior III Pose], but I wanted to start from a much more supported and stable place, since that was the complaint that I was hearing, that it was too hard to balance. So, I had the class start in Uttanasana (Standing Forward Bend), and take one leg back like Warrior III, but with the hands on the ground, just to keep the pose supported.

From there, we opened the hip up, moving towards Half-Moon, but building it up from the floor rather than launching into it. The other variation, I got from Jed, which is to start at an "L" on the wall with your palms on the wall, folding at the hips, feet on the floor. From there, you can take one leg back. You then open the top hip, and move towards a supported Half-Moon with your hands on the wall.

I've had good results, overall. Some people prefer the original pose & getting into it from Trikonasana. Others feel more supported building it from the floor, or using the wall as a prop. In any case, the exploration has been the key. It's not something I would have done a year ago, and that's the difference.

There's a teacher training exercise where you take detailed notes of someone in a pose so that you can re-create the pose with your body. That way, you can approximate the student's position and perhaps feel anything that's grossly out of alignment.

That's what it's really about, trying to figure out what's going on in your own body, and in the bodies of your students. This way you can do more than just practice the pose the way you first learned it. It becomes about learning principles of alignment, paying attention to what's going on in your body and asking questions.

Then you try to answer them.