Manifesting magic.

 
Last Saturday, I taught a workshop about manifesting our intentions, and tapping on our yoga and meditation practice to quiet down our mind, so we can listen to our heart's desires. Often, when I coax my thoughts to a quiet (or at least a soft murmur!), and bank down on its sometimes unjustifiable expectations – it feels like I am sliding off my blinkers to see the world for the first time, a world brimming with possibilities that were always there, only disregarded by my narrow mind.

The thing about goal-setting is that it is rather two-dimensional in its approach – set a target and go achieve it. The emphasis is often this: How can I get this, do this or achieve this, so I will feel better? I will feel powerful when I finally drive that sports car. I will feel worthy when I get that raise, that promotion. Our ability to feel good is pegged to a target achievement. At the same time, we are often so driven that we develop tunnel vision, and with our blinkers on we lose sight of so many possibilities going by us.

Manifesting, on the other hand, is a lot more fun, because instead of browbeating our way to the goal, we invite it to unfold with grace. The principle of manifesting is simple – light attracts light. The key here is to create our reality based on how we feel, instead of what we think. The hard work comes not in achieving a set target, but in making ourselves feel good, so we can be an energetic match for attracting the goodness we want into our lives. By softening our expectations (these come from the head!), we also give the universe space to intervene as and when it wishes to work its magic, maybe sprinkle a little fairy dust.

One one hand, there's hard work, making choices that nourish us inside out to build the positive vibes; but on the other hand there's also surrender – letting go, trusting that what will be, will be. We may just be over a month into 2015, but already I have witnessed so many serendipitous opportunities, with some seemingly coincidental moments that made even my very logical fiancé go: "Wait a minute... Is this really happening???"

A big part of me believes that magic is out there – in fact, it is everywhere, as long as we put in the effort to quieten our mind and open our heart to it. Then again, could it be that magic really isn't magic, simply unrecognised potential and opportunities that are, until witnessed, floating right under our noses?

Yoga girl returns.

It's been almost two months since I renewed my commitment to yoga, and six weeks since I got my behind back to a regular studio practice. For the past seven weeks, ever since I returned from India, not a day has gone by without me spending some time on a mat – be it at home or at the studio, and I feel all the better for it.

Practising yoga doesn't automatically make me a better person, but it makes me want to strive to be.

It doesn't make me any less assuming or judgmental, but it makes me ask myself, even on hindsight, if I could try to see people and things in a different light.

It doesn't make my heart any bigger, but it makes me dig a little deeper to find that inch of space – for compassion, for forgiveness and for love.

It doesn't make me any wiser, but it guides me to listen to the voice within, the voice I tend to muffle against the cacophony of advice both given and sought.

It doesn't shield me against distractions, but it forces me to stay in the present, which is the most important moment at any given time.

It doesn't erase desires, but it teaches me to give thanks for what I have, and to work harder for what I want to have.

It doesn't make me immune to disappointments, but it gives me the confidence to breathe and flow through even the toughest moments.

Because you see – yoga doesn't shatter my world, but as I ground my shaking limbs deeper into the earth, into my poses, every single day, I grow just that little bit stronger and that little bit more confident in the knowledge that life will ultimately lead me where it's meant to, and to enjoy the journey, not fixate on the destination.

Rethinking yoga.

In recent months, watching a good friend drag her determined behind out of bed for 7am hot yoga lessons got me thinking of my forgotten fervour with the practice. A fervour that, rather ironically, died out upon my return from India almost four years ago. I'd sought to reconnect with the practice by seeking out new instructors, but I couldn't quite find in them the connection I had with the slightly eccentric Sunil, nor could I find in the studios the oasis of calm I found in Whatever.

Oh how I miss that calm. That bubble of deep breathing and chanting bells that insulated me against the craziness that is the world. The closest I get to that these days is zoning out on quiet mornings to Rodney Yee's Yoga for Energy DVD. "Feel the pause of the earth. Be that pause... Simple inhalation, simple exhalation. No effort, no restriction. Surrender completely."

Need to try another studio...

Moving on.

So I've started yoga classes, again. Yep, three years after my last class with Sunil, I've finally moved on and found my inner yogi another home.

To be honest, I'm not quite sure how I feel about it just yet. It's in a quaint neighbourhood not unlike Whatever studio and I'm at ease with the instructor. But like a great love relationship, those surreal Wednesday evenings at Whatever are quite a (seemingly impossible) feat to measure up to, though I can never be sure if I'm looking back through rose-tinted glasses.

But yes, move on I shall. And it really is quite a nice start to the weekend, even if I have to propel/roll myself out of bed to get to class by 9.

Cosmic relationship.

Cosmic relationship.

There we were on our mats, a cozy group of four, focusing on holding our postures in our asanas. The windows of the shophouse were shut, but could not entirely keep out the muffled strains of the horning traffic below. The late evening skies deepened to twilight, and once again, I felt my brains pressing against the top of my skull as I attempted a headstand.

Today was my first yoga lesson with a guru since my return from India. I have tried to keep up with my practice with Rodney Yee's videos, but a session on my yoga mat in front of the telly does not make me as conscious of my posture as a lesson with a proper teacher. Minor adjustments made the poses that much deeper, and difficult, to hold. It was an enlightening and even enjoyable session, but several times throughout the class, I found myself wishing that I was back at Whatever with the Wednesday class instead.

The wooden floors. The bronze Buddha in the middle of the room. The chanting soundtrack. Sunil's signature "Relax...." during our meditation sessions.

It's been over a year since I stopped the classes at Whatever, and Sunil left before I had a chance to continue my practice after returning from India.



I think the relationship between a student and her guru is a very personal thing, and I doubt it would be easy finding another guru whose demeanour and style of yoga puts me at ease like Sunil's does. Honestly, I'm not very motivated to try.

Deadlines and boys in pinafores.

Deadlines and boys in pinafores.

Yesterday marked the last of my internship interviews, but as part of the suitability test, I had to churn out a short restaurant review and submit it at 9 a.m. today. I haven't been checking out new nosh places since returning from my travels, preferring to stick to old favourites like Cedele and good old prata joints. Those aren’t places the magazine would want to feature, so I was in a bit of a fix trying to find one I could head to for dinner without busting my budget.

Thankfully Jem was a good sport about altering our Ice Cold Beer plans, so we headed down to Kinara at Holland Village where I’d already visited for Daph’s birthday lunch on Monday. I think I churned out a pretty passable piece on time, so I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed until the editor reverts.

We didn’t compromise our beers though, and we sat and talked the night away at this Spanish tapas bar right across Wala-Wala. Bumped into an ex-colleague from Sentosa, which was a nice surprise, as was Ceci's impromptu decision to join us.

It was Halloween, so we had the random witch and devil strolling past our alfresco table, along with way too many boys dressed in pinafores. Was there a cross-dress theme party somewhere I don’t know of?

All the drinking and word crunching left me pooped, and I only managed to crawl out of bed at noon today. Took a lot of willpower to force myself to get on my yoga mat. My hamstrings have been extra tight since I started running, and I think Sunday’s 10km run pretty much knotted the rest of my leg muscles. All the yoga poses have been a pain, but my ego just wouldn’t let me accept the fact that I am not as flexible as I used to be under Sunil’s tutelage.

I haven’t seen any vast improvements since my first session on Tuesday morning, but I’m hopeful that the grueling mat work would pay off. All the stretching, though a torture, effectively unknots the muscles in my shoulders and back, so no complaints. No thanks to me being a slave to my Macbook.

Off to the showers, and out for an afternoon cuppa with Shaun. Been a long while since we caught up!

Clouds in the Saturday sky.

Clouds in the Saturday sky.
feeling: restless
music: jason mraz - bella luna (live at tahoe)

The man is a musical genius. I could spend all morning watching his videos on youtube and not feel at all bored.

But I'm restless, and duty demands that I put on some color on my face and meet Cheryl and ZL for a spot of shopping before heading off to Lays' party tonight.

By the way, I kept to my word and did my 45-minute Yoga for Energy video on my new Nike mat. It's a lot thinner than the older one Jem got me, I realised. And I'm a lot less flexible than I used to be. If only Sunil would come back to Singapore.

Wednesdays at Whatever.

Wednesdays at Whatever.



I've just done 30 minutes of matwork, and while the stretches are always shiok regardless of where and when I put myself through them, a bit of contentment eluded my afternoon practice.

The kind that courses languidly through the body and soul. The kind that comes from sharing a class with strangers who became yoga mates, and from laughing together as Sunil tormented and contorted our bodies.

The kind from Wednesdays at Whatever.

You don't need a reason to be happy.

You don't need a reason to be happy.

The rain showed no signs of ceasing through the afternoon, and just when I thought I'd make it to yoga in a semi-heavy drizzzle, the storm started again with painful intensity.

Perfect weather for curling up on the couch with a novel and a hot drink. Not so much for stepping out and braving the elements, especially when my limbs were still aching from yesterday's session. But I really wanted a final session with the Wednesday gang before India.

"15 minutes," I told myself. I gave myself that to hail a cab before I headed back to the warm and dry comforts of home. Despite the crowd of girls I saw huddled at the shelter and the downpour which usually warranted zero cabs, one was waiting right at the shelter for a passenger. How was I to say no?

However, I was a teeny bit disappointed, for the downpour had deterred the rest. With just me and another Caucasian lady who seemed to take her practice rather seriously, the class was less giggles and more orderly. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but after the gruelling session yesterday morning, I was actually looking forward to one of laughs and camaraderie.

Sunil and I had a chat after the meditation, during which I finally got the corect answer to his question - "Which part of you is breathing?" And no, it's neither the lungs, nor the nose. Our other discussions on God, karma and enlightement cleared the grey areas, supported my beliefs, and enriched them as well.

And in true Sunil fashion, he told me a story of a guru who never displayed extreme happiness nor sadness.

"Is that not sad, not being able to feel great happiness? Doesn't extreme happiness come only when you can feel extreme sadness?" I asked.

"No," he shook his head.
"Humans are happiest when we're asleep. When we wake, chances are we are 99% happy, and the 1% of unhappiness is usually because we don't wish to wake," he said.

I pondered. "Why?"

That is because our minds rest when we sleep and humans are happiest when we are doing nothing, he explained.

"You don't need a reason to be happy, but to be sad, you'll need a reason."

Now that stuck with me through the chilly night.

A breather behind the clouds.

A breather behind the clouds.



If the best things in life were free, I would not be sitting on my rattan chair and dreaming out of my window eight floors up, but lounging on a hammock and watching waves spray salty jewels.

Being right here in the heart of an urban jungle may leave me feeling claustrophobic normally, but now that I know I'd have to leave it all behind for six months, the buildings seem less imposing, the heat less scorching, and the mundane less boring.

And of course, there'd be no fun in life if we always got what we wanted, no? Suspense, anticipation and trials frustrate, but also sweeten the final destination.

Till the 27th rolls along, I'll go about my routined life and revel in the jewels of newfound perspectives.

A little something inspired by my yoga session this morning:

Stand beside the weak, and proclaim an undeserving glory.
Stand beside the strong, and emerge an enlightened warrior.

I think I should patent it, haha!

Wednesday's om and Friday's chow.

Wednesday's om and Friday's chow.

The dreaded exams are over, though the end doesn't relieve me from the 101 pre-departure things I have to do niggling at the back of my mind. This is the first festive season where I feel the stress creeping up, and not at all because of the festivities.

I can't quite believe that I'm leaving in less than a month. 27 days to be exact. And we haven't quite done much. Visa, nope. Ticket, not quite. Medical checkup, nope. Jabs, nope. Packing, nope. So I've got 27 days to do that, along with Christmas shopping, baking, cooking, and spending time with the loved ones I'm leaving behind for six months.

Just last week, I went about my daily Wednesday routine of heading for yoga class and barely hid my wry smile as I passed by two teens talking about heading over to MOS. Here they were dressed to the nines, and there I was, slouchily comfortable in yoga pants and flip flops.

I was glad that I was heading towards my solace, instead of having to jostle sweaty bodies in heels. A dull way to spend an evening stretching and doing backbends, instead of downing cocktails and shaking it up, one may think.

Wednesday's session is a cozy group, usually with myself, Ceci, Kevin the engineer and the girl in green (never got around to asking her name) present. Once in awhile we'll welcome a new face, but I like the easy camaraderie the four of us share. In that class, there is no fear of embarrassment nor the temptation to rest on our laurels. We struggle/push/get pulled (by Sunil) through the asanas, and get plenty of laughs out of simply trying. We've watched one aother grow, whille we too grew in our own ways. Kevin used to get pretty worn out mid-session, but he's the one doing headstands against the walls right now.

And just yesterday as I was in the studio, I thought it extremely ironic how I would miss my weekly sessions, even though I am heading for the motherland of yoga. Perhaps I'd find a fancy, but back here in Singapore, there's no better a way I would want to spend a Wednesday night.

Beats having to sit through a Malay exam like I did this week, but I spent the afternoon holed up with Tingyi in ACRC playing Scrabulous. I'm hooked. Hooked and not at all ashamed to admit it.

I managed to tear myself away from the game, and from the arresting intensity of my Nora Roberts novel, to head to Downtown East on Thursday. It was my first time at Escape Theme Park and boy, what a rush I had!

Regina and I started off with the scariest Inverter ride, though it somehow didn't seem as scary as the one Fagan and I hopped on after Ede's birthday bash. Well, very ride after the Inverter paled in comparison, and that kinda took the fun out of it, along with the fact that the Viking Ship was under maintenance. I love Viking and rollercoaster rides.






Regina and I patiently queuing up for the 15m water slide next, which had me soaked to the skin for the rest of the day.







Flying around on the Superman ride wasn't quite helpful in drying my wet clothes, though it did make me feel a little like a blouse in a tumble dryer. And gave me a pinked sunkissed nose.



A game of Monopoly to round the day off. I'm in the odd position as I couldn't get my wet clothes on the bed!

I spent the rainy afternoon in the salon today, then all but sprinted down to California Pizza Kitchen for dinner with Devina and Ceci. It's my first time there, and I would definitely be back. The pizza was good, and the dessert faultless.




The much talked-about Peking Duck Pizza. Wasn't that fantastic, but perhaps I'm more for classic pizza toppings.

I'm up to my last move for the night with Dunstan on Scrabulous, and Tingyi, the guy who started me on the addiction, comes online! I must resist.

And does anyone realise how chilly it is recently? I get cold fingers just from a ten minute brisk stroll through Orchard. I shudder, just thinking about India.

Lazy nights and lazier mornings.

Lazy nights and lazier mornings.



Dinner was a late and leisurely affair at a bistro that reminded us of the one in No Reservations. We sat at the counter, and browsed cookbooks of every imaginable cuisine between courses. In short, this bistro blurred the mutually exclusive categories of good food and unpretentious surroundings these days.

I've often wondered, when reading one of Wong Ah Yoke's food reviews in Life!, what he meant when he said that he could taste the freshness of the flavors, or that the freshness of the ingredients were not masked.

Well, I finally know.

The prawn caesar salad was refreshingly light and the sprinkling of grated parmesan added just enough richness. The tuna and mango sandwich had a unique undertone that set it apart from other off-the-counter tuna sandwiches. The sticky date pudding was out of this world. And the sprinkling of blueberries that came with the pudding.... wait a minute, I think this was my first time eating fresh blueberries and not frozen ones.

There's nothing like a satisfying yoga session and an enjoyable dinner to usher in the early weekend (even one of mind-numbing studying) I think.

There were only three of us in class, and the personalised attention meant that we could tackle a variety of more challenging poses. I lost count of the number of headstands and handstands we attempted, but it was one heck of a workout. Phew.

The family's made the impromptu decision to walk outside for breakfast bright and early tomorrow. I'll subject myself to coffee.. and leave the stomach space for brunch at Cedele with Ceci. We've waited far too many weeks for the pancakes.

All the cookbooks have rekindled the dormant domestic goddess in me. Be gone exams, so I can start entertaining!


I think this was New Year's Eve... 2004? Or was it 2003?

The pursuit of inner peace.

The pursuit of inner peace.
music: the soho collection - golden cascade



You close your eyes, breathing deep into the stretch as the melody of gentle bells and Eastern flutes washes over you. The tightness and the strain are welcome sensations that rein in scattered thoughts. You dread, and yet you crave, for the point where your mind focuses on nothing but the pain.

I'd taken up a couple of yoga classes over the years, but I'd never stayed on in one long enough to fully connect, only enough to satiate my temporary curiosity. Time after time, I dismissed the practice as slow and boring and instead ditched the mat for a run. Yet time after time, despite my scoff at its languidness, I tried trial after yoga trial, only to repeat the cycle of dismissal.

I can't explain then what led me to sign up for a block of 10 classes at Whatever, without even signing up for a trial class. It was a leap of faith I would suppose, and it helped that I had a friend who was game enough to take the leap with me.

Despite a painful first class in ashtanga, and an uninspiring start in Sunil's, we stuck on. (Perhaps it had to do with the very realistic fact that we had each forked out $180.)

I was training for the Shape run then and I saw yoga as a stretching activity to complement the training, as well as mental food for my piqued curiosity since my last yoga trial - a curiosity I was pretty sure wouldn't be quenched until I had a faint inkling of what it was about the practice that had millions hooked worldwide. I had skimmed through yoga books, and I suppose I wanted to experience firsthand the holistic lifestyle and ancient philophy so often romanticized and idealized in print.

As I eased into the practice, the weekly sessions became a personal challenge - to stretch and reach that little bit farther, or to hold a pose a little longer than on previous tries. Intangible perhaps, as compared to shaving off five seconds off a run timing or running that 500 metres more, but it drew me in, and I started practising at home too.

Rewards and affirmations often present themselves unexpectedly, like how I realised one day that I was able to fully carry out the Halasana:


Picture from inmagine.

And in class just this Wednesday, it was a pleasurable surprise to find that I was able to do a Urdvha Dhanurasana without assistance:


Picture from inmagine.

Life started whirling out of control about a month into my practice, and however busy, I found myself rushing from meeting assignment deadlines to yoga class. For two hours every Wednesday, the shophouse studio was my sanctuary. I craved the peace I could find nowhere else but during the sessions, even if classes were ironically held amidst the din of the Chinese opera troupe just across the street.

Going to class and seeing the familiar faces - people, who like myself, had started out as beginners and were now comfortably initiated; welcoming the newcomers; and laughing at Sunil's crazy antics. My yoga class was a welcome respite after often taxing four-hour-Hedwig-Wednesdays. I always leave class a little less frazzled and a little more inspired.

Like in the recent Wednesday class, a fairly new lady said to Sunil when he told her it was her turn to try an assisted headstand: "Do I have to?" And this was what he replied, directing it to the entire class: "Nothing in life is compulsory. You can die now if you want to. Living is not compulsory." He paused, and then continued amid our chuckles: "But of course, some things are recommended."

The lady ended up doing the headstand, and she returned, feet to the ground, to spontaneous applause from us. This camaraderie and non-judgemental support I realized were what kept me going back week after week.

On a more personal level, I've begun to connect with the practice. Perhaps I came to yoga at a time when I desperately needed spiritual strength, but the bits and pieces of (sometimes warpedly amusing) philosophy Sunil dished out struck a chord in me.

The body, the mind, and the spirit. When misunderstood, notions like these can come off sounding like flaky new-age mambo jumbo. So perhaps those articles, books, and journals on yoga deserve more credit than I give them for. It is afterall the author's way of tangibilizing the intangible philosophy of living.

Moreover, I believe that yoga is a personal journey that is different for every practitioner. I have minimal learned knowledge of such mystical concepts, and I track this journey simply through self-awareness and self-learning.

Which possibly might be how yoga, like any other ancient practice, was created. Just don't quote me on that.

Sun salutations in the morning.

Sun salutations in the morning.
feeling: limber

I really tried to get up at 6:00 a.m. for the ashtanga yoga class at 7:00 a.m., but I just couldn't drag myself out of bed with less than five hours of sleep. Thankfully, I roused in time to make it for ghatasth yoga at 10.

I was the only student, so it was an hour of intense stretching, backbends and more stretching. Though a little unnerving to be supervised so closely, I think today was the best session I've had so far 'cos Sunil really pushed me. Both figuratively, and literally. Phew.

The recess break got off to a slow start on Saturday, but my days are really filling up.

Headed down to Little India pretty early with Erwin to grab some stuff for Friday. It was also kind of our trial run for the real thing next year, haha. Not many pictures for I didn't quite have the luxury of time, but check out these shots by Erwin of me getting my eyebrows threaded.


The before and during.


The during and after. See the difference?


See the man in red in the middle picture? "Are you taking my picture," he asked me. "No," I replied. Haha. Not intentionally at least.

Headed home to be with the family and for that evening's offering session, before heading out for a late bite with Shaun J.

My bus broke down along Chinatown, but I was nose-deep in my novel and blissfully oblivious until more than half the passengers had gotten off. I can't stand me too, sometimes. Stayed out late playing Freud's free association outside a sleeping mall, and it is bizarre how our conversations always involve homosexuality.

It's the CS dinner and dance at MOS tonight, which explains why I went for this morning's yoga session; picking up flowers, Indian sweets and mixers as well as dinner with the girls tomorrow; and the party on Friday. I need to find time to clean up my mess of a room. Maybe I should just cordon it off during the party. Haha.

Yoga at the gardens.

Yoga at the gardens.







That's my guru. He sure drew the crowds at Botanics.

Touched by an angel?

Touched by an angel?
feeling: a horrible backache
music: ben harper - morning yearning

I strained my right lower back while doing a backbend in yoga class last week, and I've spent the week wishing for a Thai massage. Or any massage for that matter, to knead out that bone-seeping ache.

The tightness was manageable, until my back cramped up on Sunday night, and rendered me into a panicking awkward mess on my bed.

I was extra mindful during class today, but the kinks don't seem to have worked themselves out. I'm feeling a bit more achey in fact. Sunil advised that I gently work through the discomfort, instead of resting completely. The latter he says will stop the pain temporarily, only to have it return the moment I start my workouts.

Something else happened during today's post-yoga meditation - I felt a hand on my thigh. I initially thought that it was Ceci telling me she had to go off halfway, but simply put, it wasn't. The touch was warm and somewhat comforting. Sunil asked if I believed in angels. I'm not sure, but perhaps I do. He explained that it was possibly yogis who had transcended this world, and that while it was uncommon, it was normal.

It all feels strangely surreal.

On a different note, check out this artsy video for Ben Harper's Morning Yearning. It's directed by Heath Ledger, who took my breath away AGAIN when I watched 10 Things I Hate About You for the umpteenth time on Saturday. I don't think I'd ever get sick of the show.

Was it meditation or hypnosis?

Was it meditation or hypnosis?
feeling: refreshed
music: john mayer - dreaming with a broken heart

Thanks to Erwin, I finally have the full John Mayer's Continuum album playing on my iTunes.

My ability to fall straight asleep has eluded me these couple of weeks. There was my very annoying yo-yo decision making mechanism when it came to adding and dropping subjects, the tedious process of drafting GIP and INSTEP applications, and the endless surfing of university websites. I think I've become a bit of a control freak when it comes to the use of my free time, and this kinda explains my need to know my schedule in advance, and my absolute inflexibilty to last-minute changes. That ain't too good I know, but I don't quite know what to do about it.

I was really looking forward to a good stretch after the past tedious days and that very day's disappointing driving lesson, but Wednesday's yoga session left me feeling more frazzled than calm. The instructor was 20 minutes late, then proceeded to lead us in an hour of hurried poses that had the class bursting into peals of frustrated laughter. We're no gymnasts, and that was no hatha yoga. His heart wasn't in it, and that ruined the session from the start.

What was weird was the meditation session after yoga. After a couple of deep breaths in lotus pose, we were asked to expel our breaths forcefully for 30 times. I googled it, and I think it's called Kapalabhati. 3 rounds of that left me a little lightheaded, and we were then asked to lie on our mats and relax. The instructor/guru then started bringing us back in time. "You are 20 years old, trying to achieve balance in your professional and personal life... you are 15.... you are 10..."

I thought I nodded off a couple of times, and that I dreamt about the things that had been keeping me awake the past week - exchange choices, practicum choices and all. In the last "dream", I was in the driver's seat like I had been earlier that afternoon, when a car cut in front of me without warning. Adrenaline rushed through me and I jerked, both in the carseat as well as mentally. And poof, my mind was clear.

I told my auntie about it later that night, and she asked if he hypnotised us. I'm not sure now...

Speaking of dreams, I finally succumbed to replenish my deprived rest this afternoon. And guess what I dreamt of during my four-hour nap, if you can even call it a nap? That Lifehouse was having an announced 5-song set just beneath my block, right on the middle of the road. And I scrambled to dress and hurried down, only to share a lift with Jason Wade and his bemused drummer, who looks oddly like Yoji from Miami Ink. Haha!

The power in peace.

The power in peace.
feeling: sore


picture from http://www.flickr.com/photos/heavytrick/275016160/

I attended my first ashtanga yoga lesson today at Whatever Yoga Studio, and boy was it good. Thankfully Ceci and I weren't the only newbies in the 7-person class, but I think we're gonna start with Sunil's class on Wednesday to build up our foundation. I was floundering once the first set of downward facing dog and warrior poses were over, but it was still a blast. Finally, I've found a yoga match that doesn't put me to sleep.

My mind keeps going back to the last 15 minutes of the practice, where we were told to lay still on our mats. In the quiet of the darkened shophouse, my senses were awakened and particularly aware. A whiff of lavender. The occasional car driving by outside. The smell of pine from the floors.

My auntie was pretty glad when I told her I was joining Whatever for classes. "Maybe slowly you'll become a vegetarian," she said. Eh, Ceci and I headed for nasi padang after class (so not in line with the wholesome lifestyle I know), so it might take a while before I join my family hippies.