Yoga is pain. I know yoga's image, at least where I come from, is a bit wishywashy, a bit soft new age, the people doing it scatter brains who wear silly baggy trousers. Although I've only been to one yoga school now (possibly others are different) I can say I have been thoroughly disabused of that notion.

I did two classes on Friday, one on Saturday - writing this on Monday. After each lesson, I am a wreck, lakes forming on my body, stumbling on ginger legs. I am indeed filled with a certain kind of bliss - probably from the knowledge that it will be several hours before I do yoga again. I assumed that this pain is because I am starting out, but during an evening conversation with another English member of the class, he said: "The more experienced people in the class, even when they're sitting still in the lotus position, the whole time, they're constantly in pain - pushing their bodies a little further all the time".

[Yet, having said all that, I wrote the above while choosing to skip that day's morning class. I wanted give my body a break, but suddenly I was filled with the knowledge that I should have been there.]

Marcel's home and yoga centre is to the south of central Changmai, the lessons take place in his garden, a small area under a thatched roof supported by wooden beams. There are two classes a day, 8-10am and 5-7pm.

There are two things I find very difficult about the classes. One is the asanas, the exercise / stances part of the class - but more on them later. The other difficult part to accept is the mystical / spiritual emphasis.
Marcel is about developing our minds and spirits as much as he is about strengthening our bodies. We chant meditation mantras, both out loud and mentally; practice chakra healing: we visualise the different spinning energy fields of the chakras (which are located from the base of our spines to above our heads) and repeat healing Sanskrit words to strengthen them; engage in led Preska meditation, sitting eyes closed with Marcel telling us things like "You are not your body. You are not your mind. You are pure consciousness"; "We are highly focused on the here and now. If you allow your mind to slip into the past, you will always be filled with regret. If you allow your mind to slip into the future, you will always face fear and uncertainty".

Other parts of the class trigger that very English reflex against appearing silly. In one early part of the class, we push the top of our tongues against the roof of our mouths, while crossing our eyes in the direction of the third eye in our forehead, while silently repeating certain meditation words as we breathe in and out. At the end of each class, we laugh at ourselves out loud. It's noticeable that the Greek students have no problem doubling over in guffaws, while me and the other English students can only contribute a discrete chuckle.

The physical side of the class is really very difficult - it's hard to convey how difficult and wearying. I think each student has their particular asana nememis - I find simply kneeling on the backs of my feet for long periods becomes deathly painful. Some of the asanas require a level of courage and / or strength that I am still working up to - such as the headstand, or the one where we sit legs straight ahead, palms by our hips, then are supposed to push down and lift our bums, legs and feet off the floor, with our legs still straight. And some positions appear all but impossible - if it weren't for Marcel and the advanced students pulling them off, I wouldn't even begin the attempt. It is a revelation how far my body is from where it might be.

Right now I am leaving each class feeling destroyed.

Daniel, 23 May 2004

I can touch my toes!

So, I had skipped the lesson on Monday morning, only to spend all that day knowing I should have gone. I went to the evening session on my newly rented bicycle, and by the end of the class my attitude had been transformed.

I decided to give myself some extra time to get to Marcel's house, given this was my first trip on a bicycle in Thailand. While the journey was quite intense (I just kept to the edge of the road and let every motored vehicle overtake me), it passed without event and I arrived half an hour early. Marcel was setting up - I explained why I was early. "Don't think like that", he gently admonished. "Your thoughts are reality. Think the best, the most wonderful - you will have it". He asked me why I hadn't come to the morning session. "I thought my body needed a break" I smiled. "Thinking again - the thinker!" he cried. "Don't think so much; trust, believe".

I don't know if I took this advice on board for the class, but during one of the asanas I had a breakthrough. Nothing on the scale of Jesus in the desert or anything, just: the position required me to lie on my side with torso and both bent knees to my right, left arm back, then to bring my left shoulder to the ground. It hurt too much for me to bring it very far down. Then Marcel leaned over me and steadily pushed down on the shoulder. Instead of tensing and fighting, somehow the muscles relaxed, and my shoulder came down to rest on the mat. I still felt the pain, but, I wasn't fighting it, I was somehow emerging on the other side. My mind laughed out, "Ah ha! Yoga isn't about pain; it's about relaxing". A lot of the mystical language is starting to make sense in different ways - it is all about letting go of tensions, stresses, realising how much of our bodies we can control with our mind.

I'm continually amazed how exhausting the class is. Given that we don't lift anything beyond our body weight or move beyond our mats, it is strange how drained I am at the end, even compared to past experiences of studying Muay Thai or pilates (at the end of those, I wanted to run around and maybe preach a sermon - at the end of yoga, I want to curl up in a dark hole and have someone spoon feed me baby food). I spoke to one of the older students about this, how I barely had the energy to meet up with friends after a class, she smiled, "You're beginning - we all went through that stage. And if you do two sessions a day, then, your day is yoga".
I think the meditation is a big part of the exhaustion. While we do it physically sitting still, mentally we are jumping over all kinds of obstacles - visualisations, doing breathing exercises, concentrating on keeping the mind focused (not letting the "monkey" run around). Plus sitting with a straight back isn't actually that easy for long periods. It feels more like group hypnosis than my previous experiences of meditation - Marcel's low voice telling us each new colour or sensation to be imagined, telling us to let go of our hates, fears, regrets. Outside the class, when I want to use one of the affirmations, to help me concentrate for example, it is Marcel's voice that I repeat, not my own.

That bit sounds creepy, perhaps, but I am reassured by:

The surprising thing about the class, given that it takes up so much of our day, is how little we associate with each other outside of it. You'd expect perhaps that we'd all be sitting in cafes discussing how the Crocodile or Camel asana went, but, unless the others are doing this and don't invite me along, instead we all just return home separately. I suspect Marcel is partly responsible for this - although he is immensely focused and helpful during the session, once the session is over, he gives the impression it's time for us to head off. I've actually exchanged very few words with him outside of class - he offers more of his own history and opinions through the info on the website and through the books he lends us than he does in person. I imagine also there is huge turnover in the class - a few students who live in Chiang Mai are regulars, and he and they must be used to people like me joining the class for a week or two. I've already watched Marcel offering guidance for students about to depart - do the exercises regularly (especially the ones you don't like); meditate everyday; remember yoga is about the mind, not the body - but it is hardly a teary goodbye.

I am really getting into the yoga, enjoying it greatly. Although, as seems customary with these short courses I have taken on this trip, I am noticeably the worst student in the class - even new arrivals look more flexible than me. But, this is hardly a competitive activity - I'm just very pleased that I am working at my own body and making progress. And given how much I am sweating and groaning, I don't feel that I am "the worst". I've known for ages that I am quite inflexible, and have long wanted to do something about this while I remain relatively young. After the sixth lesson, I stood in my guesthouse room and wondered if I would now be able to touch my toes. I dropped my torso and head to the floor, and although I couldn't do it in one movement or with my legs 100% straight, my fingers were brushing my pinkies. This was such a personally important achievement, you have no idea - it was something I have never been able to do and never thought I would be able to.
Plus, while the belly isn't disappeared, there are all kinds of muscles appearing around my stomach - which is nice too.

Daniel, I've lost track of the date, Chiang Mai

PS Posting two articles up tonight - this one on my Chiang Mai yoga course, and "A Malaysian mystery", describing some political issues in Malaysia, as well as my meeting up with Richard and Tuely.