After vinyasa (all levels) with Amanda Oakley. Sanctuary Yoga. I wasn't feeling anything when she paced the transitions of standing asanas with each breath action. She instructs us to take props but little prop instruction for alignment. Students reaching at the spine instead of the pelvis to touch the ground and she says "good form." I don't know. Vinyasa can be overrated. I have to remember that my first yoga classes were paced like this. I most likely had bad form. But i benefited from it. Then I did Iyengar yoga... which either fixed me or ruined me. 😜 Now I do yoga on my own. Now all other yoga instructors are mediocre at best to me. And I have to pay full price. It's not that I don't benefit at all from class. And I crave yoga community.
In my self exploration as a yogi, yoga instructor, and student, it's been hard to understand my place. Yoga use to only be taught in the form of lineages. There's a line of succession and you know your place. It's hard to understand and know who I am in relation to others in a yoga class. Why i have to pay full price when I'm as experienced as the instructor. And dual relations. Am I friends with my students? Am i friends with other teachers. Do other teachers and i equally learn from each other. I've been learning to let these distinctions down as ultimately we all serve each other in energy exchange. Beginning to feel a new equanimity. I've felt very appreciative to feel seen and honored and appreciated by another yoga instructor who has been in my life since December. I hope that she and I continue to grow an evolutionary love relationship.
As I read and write about the multiplicity of temporalities governing/emerging from our lives, selves, and subjectivities, I feel the impacts of time strictures over my own body. 20 years ago, Castells wrote about women seeking to gain control of “their most immediate spaces, their bodies, over the disembodiment in the space of flows.” The march of neoliberal time puts us into a continual negotiation between our embodied processes – emotions, physical sensations, relationships – and the external but untethered demands of work lives. I’ve been distractible lately; my work style isn’t one a lot of people are aware of, because most of the time it looks like I play good neoliberal subject, optimizing my time and working round the clock to produce. I actually often work in fits and starts – or at least, I produce in fits and starts. Much of my work lives inside my head, not necessarily materializing on the page until months later. I’ll mull things over, and suddenly I’ll sit down and write 30 000 words in a week. I’ll find myself inspired at 8am or 9pm, but completely unable to focus at 2pm. Some weeks all of my attempts to produce will lead me nowhere – I’ll check my email 10 times an hour, go on a Twitter rant, or go for 2 walks in the woods every day. Whenever time structures are imposed on me (i.e., those rare times I’ve worked a 9-5), I feel stifled. It’s a privilege to be able to structure my days as I do… but sometimes this unstructured structure makes me feel I’m doing it wrong. Because we only value what we can see, read, hold in our hands, there’s no room for honouring the time spent thinking, dreaming, and moving.