Da qualche tempo ho deciso di dedicare più tempo all'insegnamento dello yoga.
Se vuoi praticare con me, puoi trovare in continuo aggiornamento il calendario delle mie lezioni online qui https://momence.com/u/yogawithgiorgia (lo vedi anche in cima alla homepage!)
Il collegamento avviene via Google Meet.
Ti aspetto!
Di cosa si tratta?
Uno yoga dolce, anzi dolcissimo, in cui ogni posizione viene attutita e coccolata dall'uso di coperte, cuscini, mattoncini yoga, sedie, pareti.
In questo modo il corpo si muove e si stira, passivamente, lentamente, prendendosi tempo. La mente si calma e si distende.
Non lo hai mai provato? Comincia da qui con la tua lezione gratuita:
https://momence.com/u/yogawithgiorgia
Collegamento via Google Meet.
Per la lezione, prepara il tuo angolo tranquillo con un pavimento reso più accogliente da un tappetino (o da un tappeto); tieni a portata di mano 2 mattoncini yoga o 2 libri spessi; un paio di coperte o asciugamani grandi; un paio di cuscini da divano e un paio di cuscini da letto.
Se ami candele, incensi e aromi aggiungi al tuo nido tutto ciò che serve a rendere la tua pratica il più gradevole possibile. Regalati una coccola, e non te ne pentirai.
Quando mi sono iscritta al corso avanzato di istruttori yoga, pensavo a me stessa: una "giovane" ultraquarantenne, pronta a mettere a "cane a testa in giù" tutti quelli che le capitavano a tiro e a impartire lezioni di Vinyasa Flow infarcite di Guerrieri e Skandasana a tutti quelli che avessero voglia di seguire il flusso.
Lo yoga sulla sedia che il corso proponeva tra i vari moduli (adaptive yoga) mi sembrava noioso. Non mi stimolava né risuonava con quello che credevo fosse il mio naturale "istinto yogico".
E' stato quando ho veramente capito cosa volesse dire l'abusato ritornello "lo yoga è per tutti", accompagnato dagli hashtag complementari #yogaforallbodies e simili che anche la sedia ha cominciato ad avere una sua attrattiva. La verità? Io sulla sedia mi annoio, io non mi muovo a sufficienza per quelle che sono le mie necessità. Ma quando vesto i panni di insegnante di yoga, quelle che sono le mie esigenze passano in secondo piano rispetto a quelle che sono le esigenze dello studente o cliente di turno.
Messo da parte l'ego, la sedia (o il letto o la panchina del parco) diventa un supporto fondamentale per allargare lo spettro di coloro che possono usufruire dello yoga e godere dei benefici che gli asana possono portare. Chi può usare la sedia? Praticanti più giovani con qualche (magari solo momentaneo) problema agli arti, o praticanti non più giovani la cui età ha influito su stabilità, forza ed equilibrio. Ancora, impiegati che possono cosi' praticare in ufficio durante le pause, laddove altrimenti non potrebbero averne modo e tempo.
Un supporto come la sedia fornisce un sostegno che consente al praticante di sentirsi fisicamente sicuro di non cadere. E questa sicurezza fisica porta con sé inevitabilmente una certa dose di fiducia in sé stessi. E' una iniezione di ottimismo.
A volte l'ego con cui combattere non è solo il nostro di insegnanti, ma anche quello dello studente/cliente che può sentirsi sminuito nel vedersi proporre un supporto. Cosi' come per alcuni usare attrezzi come i mattoncini risulta quasi offensivo. Occorre un piccolo sforzo mentale, quindi, da ambo le parti, per mettere da parte i pregiudizi che ruotano attorno alla (dis)abilità fisica. Secondo Patanjali, la sofferenza nelle sue varie manifestazioni è frutto dell'ignoranza. Cosi' il pregiudizio sui supporti, figlio del non sapere, impedisce a parte della popolazione di avvicinarsi alla pratica degli asana.
Il supporto scelto può essere una qualsiasi sedia di casa, con una seduta solida, non imbottita per non lasciare sprofondare il praticante, e senza inclinazioni. E specie nel caso della popolazione più anziana lo schienale è fondamentale. Il pensiero di potersi appoggiare quando si è stanchi è un ulteriore sostegno, psicologico prima ancora che fisico. Lo sa bene chi si esercita davanti ad un muro nelle inversioni. Appoggiarsi allo schienale, per come ho imparato a vederlo io, è l'equivalente di Balasana (la posizione del bambino), la casa madre cui torniamo durante un Vinyasa Flow per riposare, riconnetterci con il respiro, riprendere fiato. Lo schienale è anche molto utile nel caso in cui la sequenza possa prevedere una parte in piedi. L'equilibrio, anche su due piedi, non è facile da ottenere né scontato per chi ha problemi alle ossa o di deambulazione o ancora malattie degenerative come il Parkinson.
Lo yoga non è un sostituto per le cure mediche. Ma può essere un complemento alle terapie seguite con gli esperti, i medici, i terapisti. Non solo per creare stabilità e motilità, ma anche per creare maggiore fiducia, sicurezza e serenità - elementi non scontati, che a volte l'insicurezza fisica abbatte, creando un pericoloso circolo vizioso da cui è difficile uscire.
Lo yoga è per tutti? Per parte mia, la risposta è sì. Ma sta anche a noi insegnanti fare in modo che il ritornello si riempia di significato concreto, sfatando l'idea che lo yoga sia fitness (lo può essere, ma sarebbe riduttivo ricondurlo solo a quello) rendendo più inclusiva la nostra offerta, a seconda delle nostre possibilità e inclinazioni.
When we talk about yoga we often refer unconsciously to practicing one or two of the eight limbs of yoga: asana and pranayama. In fact, there are six more, even though the last two cannot be taught, but only achieved by practicing the other limbs.
Yama: moral obligations
Niyama: personal values
Asana: physical practice, the poses
Pranayama: breathing practice, control of the prana (energy)
Pratyahara: withdrawal of the senses
Dharana: concentration
Dhyana: meditation
Samadhi: union with the Divine, enlightment
So when we say we are meditating, we are actually practicing pratyahara and dharana. If we do the yogic work, meditation and enlightment will follow, as a direct consequence of the other limbs. Sounds easy? Well, not at all, I know.
But when and where should we meditate (let's keep the word, now that we have cleared the field of meaning)? Before dawn, on a rock by the sea, or maybe at sunset on a rocky peak? Instagram suggests that only in an open space, surrounded by breathtaking landscapes and unbelievable natural phenomena meditation is possible. And it is undeniable: immersion in nature is helpful to reconnect with Self, to relax the analytical mind, letting go of the thoughts, without stopping to analyze them.
Some practitioners will get up very early to meditate. Sometimes it is a life arrangement call: it's the only available time before the rest of the family gets up, or the phone starts ringing, messages start arriving. Often meditation takes place in a seated position, the spine erect, vertebrae stacked, hands in a mudra to help concentration. We have seen it all on Instagram, again.
We might even have a meditation cushion, to be more comfortable. Indeed, should we be moving around in discomfort every few minutes, distracted by our body sensations, we could not concentrate at all.
In my own practice, I have tried to be seated, but it never was comfortable for me. I tried the supine position, which works definitely better but... the teacher I was following was online at evening time and I more than often woke up with everybody gone, Zoom saying goodbye to me, not knowing what had happened from the moment the session started to the moment I re-opened my eyes. Of course, Deb's voice was so soothing that I would not hold me responsible for falling asleep like a baby. But it is also true that if I get in a supine position after dinner, I will just sleep like a log in about 5 minutes.
I thought about myself. Self-study is part of the practice, part of the Niyama. In the morning, when I open my eyes, I am always in a kind of brooding or meditative state. I start thinking about the hours to come, what awaits me, what could actually happen. Those are the moments between the end of sleep and the real start of the day, the head on the pillow, the body still sleepy.
So one day I tried and followed a guided meditation from my bed, as soon as I felt myself awake. The voice invited me to take a comfortable seated position - or lie down - and I picked the lie down option. I just remained in bed. I spread my arms, palms upward, spine in one line. I closed my eyes softly again, knowing that I would not fall asleep, because I never fall asleep again once my sleep is over. And I followed the voice through the guided meditation. Grateful when it was over, I opened my eyes to go about my day.
It has become a habit. When I meditate before getting up, from the quietness of my dark room, in the comfort of my bed, I get up full of energies, positive thoughts, an elastic quality to my step while I head to the bathroom for my morning routine.
Apparently I have found my space and time. No fancy rock, no romantic dawn, no breathtaking views. Just maybe the promise of the daylight from the slit in the curtains. As I wrote here, where and when are not so important. I know they can make a difference, but it's not always a choice that we can make, especially if the rigidity of the two parameters prevents us from bringing yoga to our lives.
Maybe one day I will be so lucky to find a rock with an Instagram view and have my meditation there. But it will be a once-in-while experience. Meanwhile, I am making it part of my daily life, the best way I can.
When I first started practicing yoga, it was not a successful attempt.
I registered for an in-person class (it was about 12 years ago, and Zoom classes were not even on the horizon), a Hatha class in the basement of a boutique hotel in Beijing, by the sides of its relaxing pool.
When I got there, nobody explained anything: there was this teacher, a beautiful Asian guy, who performed beautiful and complicated asana, for us to imitate - as if... . The class ended with handstands by the wall.
Needless to say, I did not perform handstands. Or any other asana that I can remember of. I left without having any idea about yoga asana or any other limbs of yoga - or that yoga limbs existed, even, but you can't have it all in one class, right? I also brought with me out of the door a sense of deep frustration, anger even. Where was that "feeling good" that I had heard so much talk about in yoga circles? I decided that the discipline was not for me.
Months later, a friend mentioned hot yoga and I got curious. She could bring in a friend for free and so I decided to take a class with her. It was love at first sweat. Sofia (the teacher) was guiding us softly but firmly into the asana of a Bikram-style class. I never thought that sweating so much could bring so much joy. At the end of the class, in a small cozy space outside the hot room, we were served scented tea and Sofia were sitting with us. She asked me how it was. I tried to formulate something to say, but apparently I had forgotten how to speak English. So I told her: "Sorry, fantastic, but it's like I can't speak English right now." Sofia smiled her reassuring smile and said: "Take your time. You are still in your yoga mind now."
So I discovered that I had a yoga mind. And decided to go back.
I went back to the hot room for years, in many parts of the world. It was Beijing, Bali, Rome, New York, Koh Samui, Oahu. It gave me powerful glutes and quads, yes. But the thing I could not explain to others at the time - because I did not know it myself - was that it grounded me. It made me feel so much connected to myself. If my mind wandered during practice, following its chatter, I would fall out of the asana, fall out of breath, feel my blood pressure shift, at times I needed to lie down. And I had done it to myself. So I learned to keep my focus on the practice, on me practicing in the mirror, on my breath, without judgment for me or for the other practitioners. Funny enough, it's easier in a heated room, because you will "pay" for your getting distracted.
Each time I left the room, I could just barely remember the problems that had been on my mind before - or, I had the right solution to them.
I am not saying that the heated room is the answer. You could find a number of negative aspects to that, too - but the same could be said for any practice. Go back to that first Hatha class, for example. It's all a matter of perspectives. The only truth is that it made me feel good. Grounded, as it goes. More stable, not only on my feet, but also in my mind.
And is it not one of the aims of yoga? Bringing you closer to the earth, vibrating closer to the earth frequence, feeling rooted, grounded. Only when you are grounded you can reach the other limbs, up to samadhi.
No matter the road you take to reach yoga, no matter the twists and turns, the ups and downs, the slowing down and stops, you will know when you get there. And all you have experienced along that road will make sense.
You should get up early and meditate before sunrise - or: before going to bed.
You should practice Yin late in the evening before going to bed. Or early in the morning.
Practice Restorative in the evening so you can relax before sleeping.
Do this and do that. Don't do this and don't do that. And especially do it (or don't) at a certain time.
But. Few lucky ones can actually structure lives around the yoga clock, the yoga year and follow the truly sensible ayurvedic suggestions about the practice and how it could be linked with the doshas, according to seasons and time of the day.
Our lives are often hectic, full of things to be done, appointments to keep. And if it is not our appointments, it might be those of our kids or elders to be accompanied to different places - or even the schedule of our boss which unluckily imposes on our time, too.
We are too often running out of time, that precious resource that nobody is able to recycle and to give back to us. It is then very difficult to squeeze in something new. Were we to apply strictly all of the above in terms of yoga and when to practice it, we probably should give up our yoga practice even before starting one.
Just like our body is not made to adapt to a particular asana (quite the opposite), so it is quite safe to say that we can adapt the practice to fit our life. It is better to practice a bit, when possible, than not to practice at all. Maybe later on, once we have established a practice, we will be able to squeeze in more of it. Maybe there will also come a time when we will think that getting up with sunrise for a 5-minute meditation is worth the while.
But. As far as I am concerned, I tried meditation in the evening and it doesn't serve me well. I am just falling asleep. I prefer to meditate in the morning - without forcing myself to ungodly hours, though. Maybe I shorten the time under the shower (which, by the way, is also an environment-friendly decision), or leave out the gossip section in the news. And meditate instead, preparing myself for the day ahead. I have noticed that in this way I am more focused, ready to start my day in a better set of mind.
As for Yin, it is especially good whenever I can follow my favourite teacher - she actually teaches at 6:30am NYC time, but due to time difference around the globe, for me it is 6:30pm. So what? And when I will move to another part of the world, it will probably be around midday for me. And I do not intend to give her classes up just because of the time of the day.
I tried Restorative in the morning, after a one-hour vinyasa flow and it feels absolutely great. It's probably even better in the evening but, as I said, I am not good at not sleeping and to be completely honest, I prefer reading before going to bed. That's another type of relaxation!
As for my students, they love their yang practice even in summer. They come in at lunchtime and they need to move, after sitting half day. And they need to bring back new energy for the second half. And I do not see why I shouldn't meet them there. I just avoid heavy sweaty practices, that's all.
This is my practice, and I am not selling the idea that mine is better than anybody else's - or that what Ayurveda teaches is wrong. But. The final objective of the practice is to still the mind, to calm the mental chatter. So if you reach your goal, does it matter what the time is, or the season, or the day of the week?
Of course there are some practices that are meant to happen at certain times, like morning kriyas (tongue scraping, eyes washing, nauli...) but it's just common sense, things that we would do in the morning even if we are not connecting them to yoga.
There is always margin for improvement and maybe one day you and I will be able to follow the yoga/ayurvedic clock and the yoga/ayurvedic year. But till then, just make some space for your practice, make it a habit, a part of your daily routine, experience yoga when you can. The rest will come.
When I registered with Edelweiss I did not expect the sadness possessing me when a book is refused to me. But I did not even expect the joy of being granted the book of my choice. It was sheer happiness when I saw that The Bookseller's Secret was ready to be sent to my Kindle.
I had read Michelle Gable's A Paris Apartment, and I had really enjoyed her ability to mix the old and the new, the past and the present - and to bring figures from history back to (fictional) life.
Here she returns to her readers with a novel which is her usual well balanced blend of history, women, coming-of-age, love for old Europe also. A funny and refreshing blend.
The plot starts simply with a very drunken Katie, an American novelist, stuck in her writing and in her life in general. On a week-long holiday in London to somehow recover and to find maybe some inspiration for her next novel, she unexpectedly finds much more than that - just by entering a bookshop. A bookshop (or a library) is just one magical place for anybody who loves books. The setting was one of the reasons why I picked this one.
Katie finds here the opportunity to dig deeper into her favourite authoress' life, Nancy Mitford, and she (almost) solves a literary mystery, while finding love; she understands what she wants from life, and especially what she doesn't want. And also her inspiration finally comes. While the finale is a real finale, there is still space for a TBC - will we see more of Katharine Cabot?
The flashbacks into Nancy Mitford's life are my favourite bits, though. Of course, some facts are fictional, but Ms. Gable explains it all at the end of the book, with some notes that are really helpful, welcome and stimulating. Above all, her novel raises curiosity about the Midford family and - for sure - Nancy's novels.
Last but not least, the book provides also very sensible advice for writers, on how to find their inspiration. After all, Katie is a writer, even if she has not published in years.
I would recommend this book to anybody who likes women's fiction, historical fiction, those who are interested in the Mitfords and to all those who have already had the privilege to read and enjoy Ms. Gable's novels. This one will not disappoint you.
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| Available on August 17, 2021 |
[Disponibile in italiano con il titolo I segreti di una libraia, pubblicato da Newton Compton.]
