Notes on yoga: when is the right time?

 We so often read and hear about when we should or should not practice yoga:

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. 

Coming soon: The Bookseller's Secret by Michelle Gable

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.

Available on August 17, 2021

[Disponibile in italiano con il titolo I segreti di una libraia, pubblicato da Newton Compton.]

Notes on yoga: Yin vs. Restorative

Each practitioner loves one or the other type of yoga. It depends on many factors, might just be the mood, the day, the season, the moon, one period in life.

Some like more yang practices (like Vinyasa, Ashtanga, Hatha...) and other ones like more yin practices, like Restorative and Yin itsself, which are the focus of today's post.

They are slow, calm, cool. They talk to our moon side, the yin side. But as much as this make them similar, they are very different, indeed. I have found while practicing, watching and listening that sometimes they are confused and that the two tags are used interchangeably.

Why and where are they not the same?

1. Duration of the pose (or shape, as we often call asana in these practices). Restorative implies longer holds, typically 10 to 20 minutes. This gives enough time to the body to open up gently, without rush. In Yin, it's about 3 to 7 minutes - or even shorter for beginners, longer for more seasoned practitioners.

2. Sensation. In fact, in Restorative we want almost none. That's why we need longer holds: to give time to the body to open up. We are not rushing anything. We are being passive in the pose. We are allowing the breath to flow and do the work for us, while we are being held - by the wall, chairs, bolsters, blankets and anything that can help. In Yin, we are actually looking for our edge, that particular sensation that we can stay with, using our breath  to check in, until we can start to relax into the pose, while reaching the plastic tissues underneath our muscles. Yin is very active. And remember, sensation is no synonym for pain.

3. Props. Even though both practices use props, Restorative relies heavily on them. It could be some particular yoga prop -  like blocks, bolsters, meditation cushions - but also anything around us - I already mentioned walls, blankets, chairs, even sofa cushions. Be creative with your props. In Yin, you could even work without them, almost using your body parts as a natural weight in a more traditional type of Yin yoga or relying on props - but not as much as to take away sensations. One of my teachers at MyVinyasaPractice who teaches to the traditional form of Yin, always says that props are not illegal. It means: do what feels best for your body. Props are not good or bad as such. No judgment there. (And they are very useful, but that could be part of another post).

I see often Yin and Restorative mixed up, even by teachers themselves. The duration alone doesn't make a shape Yin or Restorative. Sensation - together with intention - does most of the trick. If you are feeling too much sensation, you are not doing a restorative practice. You might want to add some more props, to feel more comfortable in the shape. Or take a variation.

You can raise legs up the wall and make it Yin - for example by pushing the hips more towards the wall. Or it could be a beautifully restorative shape, if you stay inches away from the wall or add some extra padding below the hips. 

And then, more on intention: do you want to keep your joints happier and young? Consider Yin. Are you looking for a passive practice which will help you stay with yourself while gently opening up? Maybe Restorative is the answer. And even if it might be less challenging physically, do not underestimate the challenge of just being. With yourself. 

In the end, each yoga style is just yoga: unity and a way to calm our mind and its chatter. 

It doesn't really matter if you are doing Yin or Restorative, agreed. But it's important to know what you are looking for, what you are doing or what you have signed up for. Or, if you are a teacher, what you are offering to your students.  

Caterpillar, one of the most classic Yin asana

Restorative shape with bolster and cushion for support

Yoga on and off the mat - how to use the practice in everyday life

Every morning, at 8:30, I am downstairs, waiting impatiently for my neighbour, colleague and friend to drive me to our workplace. He is never on time. I try to read the news on my mobile, I watch impatiently at my watch, and even think I might call a cab.

Where does my frustration come from? My neighbour? The delay? 

 Let's look at the facts. My neighbour is a kind soul and a dear friend. He drives me to work every working day. We agreed to meet at 8.30am. I am a very punctual person and expect others to be the same. But let's face it: this has always caused me suffering. Because that is just my expectation and I know for a fact that it is rarely fulfilled in real life! The moment I will cease to have this kind of expectation, I will start my mornings without useless and illogical grudges. 

 Expectations are what we think others should do, or how we think things should go. They do not depend on facts and reality, but on personal perceptions and the storytelling we build to connect the dots in our mind. This is a normal process, it happens to everybody, it's unconscious and there is nothing wrong with it. 

It happens with our yoga practice, too. Our mind creates expectations, based on - let's say - how the teacher is demoing the pose or our idea of the "full expression" of the asana, the one we have seen on Instagram or some magazine. If we took a step away from that mental chattering, and look at the facts, we might be able to acknowledge that our body is not the teacher's body and we can't expect it to move like any other body. And we might even acknowledge that the full expression of an asana is just a chimera. Something that doesn't exist. Or that exist but in many different forms and shapes, as many as the forms and shapes of our bodies. Just acknowledging this simple fact might change the perspective of our practice, bring more fulfillment and joy to it. 

If you think this is a fantastic intuition, I must disappoint you. It is just what the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali says, while defining in not so many words the meaning and aim of Yoga. yogaś citta vṛtti nirodhaḥ means that Yoga aims at quieting the mental chatter, giving the practitioner a tool to stop analyzing, inventing, storytelling. 

In Yoga practice, we go back to the breath when our mind starts wandering. How about off the mat? We can go back to the breath, too. Especially if we get anxious or irritated. Three breaths is a good old trick to quiet any intense sensation or emotion. But also going back to the facts is a good way of making peace with our grudges. 

Let's go back to my neighbour. I say to myself: he is not respecting me by being late! This is not a fact. He is adorable and shows his good feelings for me in multiple ways, and my being attached to that only example of "disrespect" just shows that I have some unresolved material to work with. We will be late at work! The fact is that we are never late at work, even if we don't leave at 8.30. More than that, he does know that he is late and jokes about it because he is unable to make it at 8.30. How about me just acknowledging that his 8.30 reads 8.40 and just adapt to it? Just like I would adapt an asana to my practice. 

 Why being so attached to my 8.30? In Yoga, attachment is one of the five klesha or sufferings. They are the main cause of mysery for people: ignorance, egoism, attachment, aversion, fear of impermanence. And it's incredibly true. Each time I look at a situation in which I am feeling wronged or miserable, I can see that it has something to do with the klesha. I try to acknowledge it and re-start from there. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't. But it is all part of the process of living yoga on and off the mat.

How about you? Are you living your practice off the mat? Maybe you don't even realize it. Stop for one breath and think about it. 

Premio Strega 2021: il vincitore (e altro ancora) - in podcast

In 8 minuti, tutto quello che ho da dire🙂 Buon ascolto! https://www.spreaker.com/episode/45646032

Premio Strega 2021: Due Vite di Emanuele Trevi

 Di Due Vite abbiamo sentito molto parlare - fin dall'inizio dell'avventura che è il Premio Strega - come uno dei probabili vincitori. L'altra favorita, Teresa Ciabatti, si è persa per strada, con buona pace di tutti, prima della cinquina. Lui, invece, accompagnato dal sostegno di Francesco Piccolo, ce l'ha fatta.

Meglio comunque partire dai fatti. E cioè che, leggendo la sinossi, non mi sarei mai avvicinata a questo libro. Non conosco Trevi come autore e non sarei certo partita da qui, se non fosse stato per il Premio Strega. Le storie personali, troppo personali, non mi interessano. 

In questo libro (non un romanzo, ma non lo e' neanche Il Pane Perduto di Edith Bruck, anche lei in cinquina) Trevi prende le vite di due amici, due letterati, intellettuali e scrittori come lui: Rocco Carbone e Pia Pera. E da' loro nuova vita, ne perpetua il ricordo, attraverso le sue memorie, concentrandosi in particolare sulla loro visione della scrittura.

Il libro si legge in un soffio: ha il dono della sintesi e lo stile non lascia indifferenti.

Eppure una volta chiuso, il primo pensiero non è andato alla recensione che ne avrei scritto o a quello che l'autore aveva voluto comunicare. Cosa leggo dopo? mi sono chiesta. E freneticamente la mente scartabellava fra i titoli nel mio Kindle, per l'urgenza di trovare una lettura con cui correre ai ripari. Recuperare il tempo perso. Dimenticare questa parentesi, non brutta, ma... vuota.

Sì, perché mi è parso di avere perso tempo. Non ho ricavato nulla da questo libro - e se non fosse un impegno preso con me stessa, non avrei neppure voluto scrivere queste poche righe. Men che meno ho la curiosità di andare a leggere Carbone e Pera, senza voler per questo mancare di rispetto ai tre amici. 

Due Vite di Emanuele Trevi, edito da Neri Pozza

No, per me non merita il Premio Strega, non ha la levatura della grande letteratura, la capacità di coinvolgere che credo essenziale in un libro che  si candida a rappresentare la letteratura italiana dell'ultimo anno. Nella cinquina ci sono almeno due libri che meriterebbero di più la vittoria.

Staremo a vedere. Il Premio ha una sua logica che a noi lettori, a volte, non è dato capire né condividere.

Premi Nobel: Klara e il Sole di Kazuo Ishiguro

Klara and the Sun (Klara e il Sole, ed. Einaudi) è l'ultimo romanzo di Kazuo Ishiguro, premio Nobel per la letteratura, autore di opere come Never Let Me Go (Non lasciarmi) e The Remains of the Day (Quel che resta del giorno). Il premio Nobel gli è stato conferito nel 2017 

"perché, nei suoi romanzi di grande forza emotiva, ha svelato l’abisso sottostante il nostro illusorio senso di connessione con il mondo".

La Klara del titolo è un robot, un AF (Artificial Friend) - non di ultimissima generazione, ma particolarmente dotata in termini di profondità di osservazione e comprensione delle emozioni umane. Un giorno viene scelta in negozio dalla quattordicenne Josie per essere la sua compagna, per traghettarla attraverso la solitudine dell'adolescenza. La sua capacità di imitarne la camminata,  convince anche la Madre di Josie a completare l'acquisto.

E a poco a poco, si rivelano i pezzi di un mondo post-industriale, inquietante proprio perché il punto di vista della voce narrante - Klara - si concentra solo su ciò che vede ed è programmata a vedere. Al lettore rimane l'(in)carico di connettere i puntini, immaginando cosa possa essere successo in un mondo in cui i robot sono integrati in una società in cui la solitudine è padrona, i ragazzi non si incontrano per giocare, ma in meeting che dovrebbero insegnargli a relazionarsi, poiché ormai tutto il mondo delle relazioni avviene online. E' un mondo inquietante, misterioso, mosso dall'industria genetica, che fa pensare - forse poiché non sembra cosi' lontano dal nostro.

Gli occhi robotici di Klara filtrano per il lettore le relazioni fra le persone: fra gli adulti, fra i ragazzi, fra le coppie. Ne osserviamo il cuore, che forse è quel pezzo che manca a Klara per essere umana - la sua compassione, la sua fede nel Sole come sorgente di vita imperscrutabile sembrano però indicare che, in certi momenti, lei sarebbe un essere umano migliore di molti esseri dotati di cuore. E quindi il cuore non è solo un organo, ma qualcosa di più profondo. 

Tornano temi cari a Ishiguro:  l'attrazione per l'intelligenza artificiale già presente in Never Let Me Go; la solitudine, quell'essere ognuno rinchiuso nel suo spazio (più uno spazio mentale che fisico). Un tema che, anche quando non esplicitato, risuona fra le righe avvolgendo la narrazione in una pellicola malinconica che è la cifra stilistica di Kazuo Ishiguro.

Klara e il Sole è uno di quei libri che suscitano perplessità, perché l'autore stesso sembra essere mosso da una incertezza (a dire il vero anche nella costruzione di alcuni dialoghi) che non era presente nei suoi altri libri. Ma ugualmente, anche dopo averlo chiuso, si rimane a pensarci. La voce narrante è quella, in prima persona, di Klara, che ha solo le sue robotiche certezze. E potrebbe essere la stessa incertezza che domina il nostro presente. Poiché lo capiremo - forse - solo domani, cercando di mettere in ordine i ricordi.  

Si rimane a pensare a quel mondo, chiedendosi quanto sia solo di fantasia. Si torna a pensare a Klara, la cui voce non si spegne con la fine del libro; al suo sacrificio, alla sua ingenuità che fa da lente di osservazione per cercare di capire il mondo di Josie e Ricky, e di tutti i personaggi che gli ruotano intorno. 

E' un libro che parla alla sensibilità di molti, ma che molti non perdoneranno, per non essere all'altezza dei precedenti di Ishiguro.

Klara and the Sun, una delle tante copertine