In October, I was invited by Ryan Wilson to speak as a movement-related professional at a themed Salon, "How Does Movement Work?" held in Palmer Square, here in Chicago.  The other presenters included an Opera Singer, an Improv Comedian, an Erotic Masseur (who composts human feces to save water, as a side job), and a Play Therapist.  I was asked to share my experience with movement in a way that could not be found on Wikipedia, to share something about my experience that I may not normally share publicly.   With the invaluable assistance of my friend and yoga teacher-in-training, Nam Tran, I presented the following talk.

October 13, 2008

Salon at 3059 W Palmer Square

[The talk begins with a bit of an ice-breaker, as Nam leads the group in the invocation, a sanskrit call and response chant which normally opens an Ashtanga practice: vande gurunam, caranaravinde, sandarsita, svatmasukhava bodhe, nihsreyase, jangalikamane, samsara, hala hala, mohasantyai, abahu, purusakaram, sanhacakrasi, dharinam, sahasra, siram svetam, pranamami, patanjalim, OM]

If you happen to have a refrigerator magnet set of yoga postures affixing your nephew's drawings to the Lula Cafe menu, yoga may seem a stationary activity of creating geometry with the arms and legs.  There are, in fact, several poses, called asanas, which are named after triangles, diagonal lines and boxes.  However, moving from one set of angles to the next - and let's remember it takes time to move through space - we find ourselves, as much of the time in between asanas as inside of them.  A rhythm is created of the proportion of time spent in our arrival points next to the time we take getting there, and thus, yoga becomes a practice of process, of in-between space, and of movement.  For the sake of tonight's topic, Yoga is a dance we do with ourselves, a kind of jazzercise which relies on the jazz of our breath, our inner world, our spirit.

[Nam takes prasarita]

While it may be difficult to remember observing the ladies at Curves in prasarita padottonasana, Yoga's roots are entirely spiritual, having grown up alongside Hinduism in India over 1500 years ago.  The practice is, like so many others, an attempt to find god, to commune with god, to become one with god.  Not necessarily in that order.  What does that have to do with the arms and legs, you may ask?  There are many questions that, for the sake of time and circumstance (one of those circumstances being the wholly unenlightened state of the speaker), we may not be able to address in full tonight.  Let me just say this:  If we don't know what or where the spirit is, we may find it by process of elimination.  First we get to know what is the body.  What is the mind.  What is the heart.  What is chemical and what is mechanical inside of us.  And after this is explored, what is left?  What is not the body?  Not the mind?

Ryan [our host] urged me to share something which I would not normally share regarding yoga, movement and personal experience.  I have chosen to present to you a yogic experience which, to my knowledge, is untranslatable in Sanskrit.  It is a powerful, humbling and transformative phenomenon which I have experienced as both a student and a teacher.  I have seen it cause spontaneous laughter in some students, while bringing others to tears.  Because of its power and weight in the yogic experience, I have studied it carefully in order to discern its causes and conditions, and have found that it occurs with startling regularity in a very specific transition, that being the movement exiting salamba sarvangasana (shoulderstand), entering matysasana (fish pose).  [Nam demonstrates.] 

While the quality of movement that I am discussing is almost guaranteed to occur in at least half of those present tonight, it was not observable in Nam just now, in part because it is an internal phenomenon, and in part because it occurs only in females.  It is called, in English, a Queef, or the expulsion of air from the vaginal opening due to a vacuum created by non-engagement of the internal organs.  This is what can be called a classic "rookie mistake," and is remedied by activation of the bandhas, or internal energy locks.  More specifically, squeezing the sphincters of the pelvic floor, and drawing the solar plexus in toward the spine, we stabilize our inners and prevent accidental air invasion.  [Let's try this now!] 

We can observe our 3-dimensional experience as a microcosm of our more ethereal, luminous macrocosm.  Bringing together the physical and metaphysical, we might translate our experience to the realm of spirit.  What I am saying is that by strengthening Manipura, the 3rd chakra, the seat of self-esteem, personal drive and confidence, and engaging Muladhara, the root chakra and energetic center of instinct and survival, we can transition from Salamba Sarvangasansa to Matsyasana with our dignity intact. 

As we practice yoga, we become more attuned to the subtleties of our bodies and minds.  Exploring discomfort, embarrassment, pain and weakness, we learn how to integrate our minds and bodies, and create softness, confidence, pleasure and strength.  Our in-between spaces become visible to our inner witness in the transitions we perform in yoga, and we can begin to learn about ourselves by observing our bodies more and more carefully.  I am going to lead Nam through a classic series of yogasanas known as Surya Namaskar, or sun salutations, to show the process of movement, and we will then ask Nam about his inner experience.

[Nam performs Surya Namaskar A & B, first "digital," one asana at a time, and second "analog," showing fluidity between the postures by leaping slowly from one to the other, maintaining his connection with his breath.  He does this beautifully, in spite of the trembling that only I can see - the effect, not the cause, as he may suggest, of his consuming several beers before the presentation.]

1.What is the relationship between your breath and your movement?

[Nam goes on about inhaling and exhaling, blah blah blah.]

2.Were you able to maintain consistent engagement of your bandhas, or, more specifically, did you queef?

[Nam mentions that he is not female, and quickly goes on to discuss his bandhas, but this is barely heard over the laughter heaving up from the audience.]

3.What can you say about the movements of Surya Namaskar that you would not normally share with another person?

[Nam says something about being a yuppie. "I work at a desk, in front of a computer every day, and yoga helps relieve some of the stress of my job.  Through movement, my mind is able to be free, muscle memory kicks in, the intensity of the pose, the holding of the pose, focuses my mind and clears it at the same time."  He apparently does not share much with other people.]

Having stated that yoga is a process of transition, the goal of yoga, for some, is perfect stillness, or Nirvana - arrival at a place of complete peace.  We find this stillness through a practice of continuous movement, fluxuation and adjustment.  Balances transform our notions of stillness as we find fleeting success suspended in a moment.  We begin to perceive a series of tiny tiny stillness in subtly different locations create the motion and gesture of the body like pixels creating shape and depth.  We find tiny moments of stillness in the spaces between our jittery minds and shifting bodies, in the small breathless moment which is no longer the exhale, not yet the inhale.  The destination creates a journey, and the journey becomes its own destination.  Nirvana, it can be noted, also means extinction. 

Thank you.

[Many thanks to Nam, an admirable yogi, fantastic helper and indispensable wizard on this and many other projects.]