Now, Yoga

So, as you know, this month I have been mostly doing Yoga. I can’t believe I am just over a month into my course! I am stronger, fitter and healthier than I have been in a long time. To be honest I was expecting that. I wouldn’t be taking a Yoga Teacher Course if I didn’t already believe that Yoga is incredibly good for you!

So what wasn’t I expecting? I was expecting to learn a lot of new stuff from the vast cauldron of Eastern Philosophy. I was expecting this to be interesting and perhaps even insightful. But to be honest, I wasn’t expecting to actually believe much of it!

However it seems 20 odd years of determined cynicism is being stripped away, to be replaced by... what? I’m not sure yet.

In our first training session our Teacher pointed out something very obvious and crucial: that you must practice what you teach. If you are going to stand up in front of a class and encourage them challenge their body and mind, you have to live by the same rules. “Of course” I thought, “that’s obvious!” (Although, if I’m honest, it wasn’t something that had occurred to me earlier). However, in that spirit I decided to be open to whatever ideas were thrown at me, and to try and live by the principles that I was prescribed.

I am still trying to do that – although it’s not easy and is going to take a lot more time and dedication than I originally supposed. But the Constraints are fair: do not harm yourself or others; do not steal or lie; control your passions and do not be greedy or covetous. You can’t argue with that! The Observances too: purity or cleanliness; honesty; austerity or self-discipline (by far the most challenging for me – but I can’t deny I need some!) and self-study. All good. I am having trouble reconciling what the last Observance – awareness of the Divine – might mean to me as an atheist. But I am assured that Yoga is not a religion – so perhaps human endeavour and our ability to love is my ‘divinity’?

The daily practice of physical yoga as well as meditation and pranayama (breathing control) is also undeniably good for me – although requires more daily discipline than I have managed to summon so far!

So what’s the 'BUT'? Perhaps there isn’t one... except... I am not sure if I fully recognise myself anymore. I am changing.

I was thinking about my Yoga Class and what I think of my fellow students – all good things! But that led me to wonder what they think of me, and how they perceive me... and I realised I have no idea.

I have always had a very clear idea of how I am perceived. Maybe I have been wrong about that! But I always FELT that I knew. I no longer have any idea. I have stopped talking about the experiences that I used to think defined me. It was not deliberate – I’ve just become aware that I have.

You know how you have key information that you give about yourself when you meet someone: you don’t give a life story and complete self-analysis – who would listen! You give key facts, experiences – maybe not consciously – but you are giving the information that you believe will allow people to see you for who you are.

I am always very interested when people start by giving their job title! As if what they do for a living is the cornerstone of who they are. But perhaps for some people is genuinely is. In contrast, I have always enjoyed the fact that my brother refuses to discuss what he does for a living – claiming that even he doesn’t fully understand!

I used to introduce myself with my travels and some experiences (told as ‘amusing’ anecdotes – thereby displaying my sense of humour and communication/storytelling skills). This, I believed, defined me. And having that ‘Past’ was important to me. It was a foundation for who I am. I built that ‘Past’ – strived for it – to become the person I aspired to be.

I don’t do that anymore. Why not? What information do I give instead? I am not sure... perhaps I don’t introduce myself so much. It’s all starting to seem very unimportant: where I have been, what I have done, the adventures – this foundation I have built. It feels like I’ve built a beautiful Conservatory, only to discover that I don’t have a garden.

Am I just finally doing the last 10 years of growing up in this 6 months? What a crazy thought – like Dorian Grey, in a distant town somewhere, someone has cleared their attic and thrown my mental picture into the rubbish! Tomorrow, or someday soon, I will awaken to find I am AN ADULT!

But you have to loose your mind, in order to find it again, and I am told, before you can receive, you need to let go.

Ever thought you might have accidentally joined a cult?

Don't worry! I'm not dead - I'm doing Yoga. No really. All of the time. Because, as my teacher... (or should I very tentatively say... Guru?) says -

"Everything you do do on your Yoga mat, should be Yoga. And everything you do off your Yoga mat... should also be Yoga"

Quite. So, I am doing a Yoga Teacher Training course at the moment and in the spirit of practicing what I intend to preach, I am doing my best to immerse myself in the philosophy as well as the course. I feel I can officially describe myself as a Yogini. I will, of course, blog a lot more about this enormous, life changing topic... but at the moment (to be honest) it's just too enormous, too all encompassing and too life-changing for me to be able to reduce it to a small, mildly glib, Blog Post.

In the meantime I shall leave you with this, from Patanjali's Yoga Sutras: Yoga is

"To still the restless mind (and thus find peace)"

It’s behind you! (Part 2)

I’m wise to it now – it’s not going to happen to me again. I did two dives today, finishing off an Open Water course. Ten minutes into the second dive, I was chilling, watching my students doing a wobbly hover, being entertained... when a sudden thought crossed my mind! What is happening behind me right now?

Could there be another Eagle Ray cruising past? A Giant Green Moray emerging from it’s cave? A school of shimmering Bat Fish? A Turtle stopping by for a rest and a snack? Herds of wildebeest sweeping across the plain? Ok, not that.

But I am a responsible Instructor! I didn’t turn around... not until they’d finished. Then I gave them both an underwater round of applause, a polite handshake and suggested we go for a quick explore. I turned... and I swear, for a minute I thought my eyes must be deceiving me, when three dolphins calmly glided past, no more than a few metres ahead of me.

You never see dolphins underwater. Only once before have I seen a dolphin under water and that was very brief. Today, these guys just sauntered past, relaxed, composed, amazing.

Back at the Marina, chatting to our (very jealous) photographer, I said how lucky I felt. He laughed and said, no, not lucky: because the dolphins know exactly where we are. So if we see a dolphin in the water, it’s because they want us to see them.

I reckon one of them must of read my blog! Heard about the Eagle Ray, decided to make up for it. Well it did. Boo sucks to Eagle Rays! I saw Dolphins today! Top trumps. Game over!

It’s behind you!

"So how about that stingray? He was cool, wasn’t he?" I asked.
"Yes great! But there was a much bigger one at the beginning, while we were coming down the line. This one was different though," replied my customer, with a puzzled frown.
"Really? How so?"

There are a number of different kinds of rays: your ‘common & garden’ Southern Stingray (above) is the one we see most often. They’re very slick, light grey, very fast – but nervous, so sadly you don’t usually see them for long.

Marble Ray : Photo from Dive Sites Directory

There are other rays though: occasionally around here I’ve seen a Marble Ray, they are bigger and very UFO-ish. Last year, in the Philippines, I was in the pathway of a very startled Marble Ray, it came racing up a wall straight at me – I remember hovering, wide-eyed, completely unable to identify what I was looking at – for a moment I thought I might of been in a real-life Abyss scenario!

Further south they sometimes see Eagle Rays, I used to see them fairly often in Honduras, but since then (6 years ago) I think I’ve only seen two. I’ve never seen one here in Mexico. They’re pretty spectacular. Of course the King of the Rays is the mighty Manta. I’ve only ever seen four of those – unforgettable, gentle giants of the ocean. Related to Mantas are the smaller Devil Rays – they sound scary, but they’re just smaller Mantas, very mellow.

"So what did it look like? What shape was it?"
"Fatter than the other one we saw and it was dark red, with spots I think, and... well... you’re going to think I’m crazy, but it’s head kind of looked like a bird! I think it had a sort of beak!"
"A Spotted Eagle Ray. You saw a Spotted Eagle Ray..." I struggled to keep the resentment and jelousy out of my voice, "where was it?"
"It was very close! It swam right behind you!"
"A Spotted Eagle Ray swam right behind me?" Too brisk, be polite!
"Yes, it was big! Bigger than you! About 6 feet! Are they usually that big?"
"No." I swallowed, "so, a two-metre Spotted Eagle Ray swam right behind me? That’s very big. I haven’t seen an Eagle Ray for well over a year."
"Really? It was quite amazing looking!" he gushed with a broad grin.
"Yes, they are, fantastic. I wish I’d seen it." There was an awkward pause.
"Oh!" The penny dropped. "Oh... I probably should have pointed it out, shouldn’t I?"
"That would have been nice, but never mind." I said, insincerely.
"Oh well. I guess I was lucky!"

Spotted Eagle Ray : Photo by Timothy M GcGovern

Two bloody metres! He saw a two-metre Spotted Eagle Ray and he didn’t think to point it out! The reason it swam right behind me, without me noticing, is because I’ve got to keep looking at him! Bloody customers! I mean, what was he thinking? Even if you know nothing about aquatic life, surely if you saw a red, bird-like creature, with the head of an eagle and a two-bloody-metre wingspan, you’d think that it would be worth a casual nod in the general direction, wouldn’t you? You can’t seriously be expecting to see that when you sign up for your Discover Scuba experience. Surely, you would point and give the appropriate hand signal for ‘what the be-jesus is that?!' Or indeed any hand signal, or a wave, or flap your arms, or at the very least you would stare with big eyes and an open mouth! Wouldn’t you?

I remember coming down the line with him very clearly; he was perfectly calm the whole way. He showed no signs of surprise or alarm. At which point do you think he saw the red, spotted ray, with a head of an eagle and a two-metre wingspan?

Could he have been lying?

I enjoyed my first ever dive, but I have to say, if I had seen a two-metre Spotted Eagle Ray I would have been a bit alarmed. I definitely would have pointed it out to my Instructor. Could he have been lying? But he described it so well... and why would he make up something like that? To wind me up perhaps? He tipped though.

Two-metre Spotted Eagle Ray! Seriously. Right bloody behind me.

Bugger.

Another Coffee Shop Blog

I spend a lot of time there, ok! Think of it as a bit like Seinfeld, only without the friends, or the booth. My Coffee Shop is actually a lot classier, with leather armchairs, low lights and a staff tee shirt, so stylish, that I’m seriously considering asking if I can buy one. It also has lots of interesting customers: artsy types; fashionistas; über-cool Argentinean surfers; musicians; emo-kids and some assorted oddballs.

There’s a super-chic, magnificently accessorized Italian Señora: I recently bought a strip of brightly coloured Mayan fabric, which I use a belt, specifically because I saw her do the same and it looked so good. She wears lots of jewellery and looks bohemian and eclectic. If I did the same I would look like a kid who’d broken unto mummy’s jewellery box and was going to get in so much trouble later.

There’s Paul: American, early 60’s, writing a novel (aren’t we all), who told me his wife left him because she wanted to move to Mexico. He said fine, she asked why he was agreeing so easily, he said it was to make her happy, she said this was not a good enough reason. So shortly after they moved here she left him and returned to the States, abandoning their 32-year marriage. I suspect there might be a little more to this story! He recently had a Birthday Party and ostentatiously invited the three, beautiful, 20-something waitresses, I don’t know if any of them went.

Yesterday, there was a new character: once upon a time Playa del Carmen was a cool, hippy hangout and there are still a few relics from that age wandering around in their Grateful Dead t-shirts and Willie Nelson style hair braids, looking vaguely bewildered by the city that has grown up around them. This guy looked like one of that tribe: long grey hair, frosted blue eyes, very much like David Carradine, with a ponytail. He sat across the room for me and started talking to someone on Skype. I wasn’t intending to listen until something he said caught my attention:

"So I dreamt that these two guys were dead, then yesterday I walked down and there’s the ambulance – turns out one of them is dead and the other's in a coma! I have to be careful what I think about cos I’m making it happen!"

I am a sceptic, so of course, I assumed he was a nutcase. He was, after all, old enough to one of the acid pioneers and they are known for their fluid perception of reality. But suppose it was true? Suppose I was in the presence of a dangerous and bizarre psychic phenomena. Any day now Americas Most Haunted (or do I mean Most Wanted?) will descend upon us with Geiger-counters, clipboards and a near hysterical anchorwoman. He was speaking in nervous, hushed tones so I missed the next part of the conversation, but then I heard,

"Well now I am emailing positive images out all around the globe...," emailing? Emailing? Is he using a modern term for sending out vibes? Or does he actually email photos of happy faces and great achievements out into the ether? Surely he’d be better off making a YouTube video or joining Twitter – perhaps I should suggest that?

"I’ve been spending a lot of time focusing on these pictures and thinking about good things, so no one else gets hurt"

How sad, he believes he has this extraordinary power and he’s hiding away, hunched over his computer studying ‘positive images’, terrified of the damage he might do. I missed the rest of the conversation. But shortly after he hung up, a burly Texan, in a faded ‘One-Star Rodeo’ tee shirt bellowed across the room,
"Was that Callie? Did ya tell her about the dude you killed?"

Mr Carradine nodded, anguish etched into his features, and the tears welled up in his eyes.

Question: I had a really fat customer the other day. I mean really, really fat. It was interesting for me, logistically, because fat is buoyant. It’s actually very hard to sink that much fat. The obese need a lot of weight, but carrying it can be a problem as they are generally not strong, very unfit, awkwardly shaped and difficult to handle. Getting a weight belt done up for example: do you politely ask them to lift their rolls so you can assess where their waist might be? Suppose their belly is too large for them to lift single-handed?

Some of my readers are fellow divers, so they might be interested in this situation. I was not planning to be nasty about the guy; he seemed nice enough (although you have to wonder about the self respect and intelligence of someone who chooses to be in that condition – and yes, I do believe it is a choice). But what are the ethics of blogging about this? Is it cruel? Is it bitchy? Is it a breach of confidence? Unprofessional? Can I make jokes?

To tell the truth, the blog has been written... but should I post it?

Let slip the dogs of war

The house behind my place has dogs. Lots of dogs. Lots of small, yappy, squeally, really, really annoying dogs. Last week, they got a new dog. It’s yappy, it’s whiney and it doesn’t stop barking. Ever.

Actually, that’s not completely accurate. It usually has some quiet periods between 3am and 5am, but apart from that, it doesn’t stop, ever. It’s starts fairly promptly at 5am, from that point it only pauses for breath. The other dogs join in for the chorus, about every 20 minutes or so.

I have not yet seen the new dog. The other dogs come out and hurl themselves at the gate when anyone walks past; like crazed, rabid, miniature monsters, they crowd at the gate post, thrusting their tiny jaws through the gaps and snarling fiercely. They biggest of them could probably do some damage to my knee... but I reckon all of them are small enough to drop kick.

But the new dog is kept around the back of the house, in the yard... which backs onto my back window. I went up to the roof earlier to see if I could see the little bastard; but I couldn’t. I think he might have sensed my venomous presence though – as he became even more frenzied than usual.

My question is: do you think I could kill it?!

I’m thinking raw meat, generously dusted in rat poison and thrown over the back wall. You’re shocked, I can tell. But seriously, for the last week, it has not stopped barking! I wake up every morning to it’s yelping, and fall into a tempestuous sleep to sound of it’s snivelling yaps.

Ok, so there’s the Karma thing. I very rarely kill spiders these days – preferring to flick them out the door if I can. In fact, I almost blush to confess it, but I even rescued a woodlouse from drowning in my bathroom sink last week. So I’m really not a naturally murderous person. But I think, although I’m not entirely sure, that I could kill this dog.

There’s retribution to consider: If the people who own it, (the boorish slobs who can’t even be bothered to train their own household pets to behave in a socially acceptable way – they don’t live on a farm! This is an urban area, it’s all residential around here, there must be many people suffering from lack of sleep this week) if these people are unhappy about the death of their horrible dog, then they might also be angry with it’s killer. One assumes these are not people I want to be on the wrong side of. Also, I am one of those old-fashioned Brits, who apologises if someone bumps into me, (presumably I am apologising for using the pavement – I don’t really understand it myself, but it’s an ingrained habit), so I don’t deal with confrontations very well.

Of course I could try and appeal to their good nature and ask them to deal with the dog now – to stop it from barking all the damn time. But lets be honest – if they cared they would be dealing with it already! Here’s the thing: not once in the last week have I heard anyone say ‘shush’. Not once. There’s also the language problem to consider. Of course I could sit down with my dictionary and work out how to say, “Excuse me, but your dog is driving me crazy! Please can you stop it from barking; I have to work and need my sleep; but more importantly I am about to embark on the full Yogic Path (stay tuned for that blog post!) for which I will need a calm and balanced demeanour and it’s hard to have that when I wake up every morning feeling persecuted and indignant. Please, help me!” Yes indeed, I could say all that. And they would reply?

Who knows what they would reply! Because they would reply in rapid, incomprehensible Spanish, the same way everyone replies. And I would stand there, feeling bewildered and ever so slightly foolish. Then I would sigh, and nod my head politely, and walk away... and the barking would continue... unchecked and unabated. And then, if I kill the dog, they’ll know it was me!

As I wrote the last paragraph, someone in a nearby flat has started playing some very loud, very angry Wagnerian Opera. That’s definitely a symptom of a murderous intent! Maybe they will kill the dog? Maybe even tonight! But if they don’t... can I?

Cruel or Kind?

Sally didn’t want to go in the water. She’d been nervous in the swimming pool during her lesson, but had (I thought) overcome her fears and by the time we finished she seemed fairly relaxed. On the boat she talked non-stop and I wondered if she was going to crack. When I gave the dive briefing, she seemed brittle, but she was still making jokes right up until she realised it was her turn to go in.

"I just don’t want to go in backwards!" she said, pleadingly.
"Backwards is the easiest way. You’re just going to lean back and gently drop into the water. Your jacket is inflated, your going to float! You head will only be under for a few seconds."
"Can’t I just swing my legs over and..." she tailed off as she thought about it. "Don’t push me!" she squealed.
"I’m not going to push you Sally, I’m holding onto you, because I don’t want you to slip over. Whatever you decide to do, I think it’s important that you sit down now"
"Don’t push me!" she squealed at the Boat Captain.
"Fabian is holding onto your tank to make sure you don’t slip over" with perfect timing, at that moment she slipped. Somehow, we caught her. The tanks are heavy and fins are not exactly the best ‘deck shoes’. Usually customers move from the bench to the side of the boat in one movement while the Boat Captain holds the tank, to keep them stable. Sally – plump, middle-aged, petulant, unfit, not-very-strong Sally, was standing in fins, on a rocking boat, with a 20kg tank and refusing to sit on the side, in case one of us pushed her in.

After some intensive reassurance she finally agreed to perch. She still wouldn’t sit properly, on the edge. If she had... can I be honest? Yeah, of course I would have pushed her in. She would have thanked me for it later, they always do! But Sally continued to perch. Poor Fabian was still taking the weight of her tank, standing at a very awkward side-on angle, which clearly wasn’t comfortable for him. It was time for a change of tact.

"Sally, of course you can do this. Now take a deep breath, be strong and lean backwards. Remember how cool you were in the pool?" (she wasn’t) "Remember how much fun you had?" (well, kind of) "Well, it’s going to be exactly the same, only better, in the ocean. Now move back to the edge and go in."
"But can’t I just swing my legs over?"
"I raised one eyebrow "I shouldn’t think so," the side of the boat is thigh high, "can you?"
"Oh! I...."
"Sally! Look at me! You can do this. Now come on..."
"But I don’t think... I don’t know..."

This went on for another minute or so. And yes! I was patient! I alternately reassured and persuaded – but neither was working.

"Right," I said. "No problem, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. Sit down over here and let me help you take the gear off. You can wait on the boat. Don’t worry. Diving isn’t for everyone."
"But I don’t want to be the only one who doesn’t go!" she whimpered.

Oh, I see. She wants me to make her do it. Everyone else was in the water waiting. The other Instructor with me pointedly looked at his watch. The more time she wastes on the boat, the shorter the dive is for everyone, since we still have to be back at the Marina at the same time.

Last week I had Karen. Karen also didn’t want to go in the water, but she was persuaded to sit on the side of the boat whilst she thought about it... and then went in quite unexpectedly! Did she over-balance or was she pushed? It’s hard to say! But she said it was easy once she was in. Then, however, she didn’t want to go under. I told her she would be fine and then I took her arm and gently pulled her down with me. She was physically shaking and signaled repeatedly that she wanted to go up. I said 'No'. We got down and after a minute or so she started looking quite cheerful. After five minutes she gave me two 'OK' signals (both hands), which is what I tell them to do if they’re having a good time. After fifteen minutes she gave me a big, overhead 'OK' signal. We use this to signal boats (from a distance) but I tell my customers to use this signal to let me know when they’re having a really, really super-fantastic time! Which, obviously, Karen was! After the dive she hugged me and thanked me for 'the most amazing experience' she’d ever had.

But today it was Sally. She wouldn’t take off her gear, she obviously still wanted to go, but she still wouldn’t sit on the side of the boat.

"You have to decide Sally. If you want to come diving, you have to go in now. Or, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to, you can wait here. But you have to decide"
"But I..."
"What would you like to do?"

She went in. I joined her. Everyone else was impatient to get going. The other Instructor started going down, taking the first three with him. I was left with three: Sally, her ineffectual husband and another guy.

"Right Sally. I’m with you. Are you ready? Put your breather in your mouth and get ready to deflate your jacket. You’re going to be fine, we’re going to take it nice and slowly..."
"Don’t leave me!" she squeaked.
"I’m going to be right next to you the whole way. Now put your breather in and keep it in please"

I gave the signal and took Sally’s hand; the other divers deflated. Sally did not. I reached over and deflated her jacket. She fought hard to stay on the surface, struggling to keep her head up and I could see she’d taken the breather out. I signaled to the Ineffectual Husband and the completely unsympathetic and slightly irritated man who was annoyed at having been stuck with these two, to stay on the line and don’t move. I put my head back up.

"Sally?"
"I can’t do this, I can’t do it!"
"Of course you can. You’re perfectly safe, I’m going to be with you the whole way."
"But... but..."
"Sally, do you want to go diving?" there was a pause.
"Yes"
"Then you need to put your head under the water"

She put her head under the water, but was still kicking to stay up. I gently started to bring her down, but it was no good – she launched herself out of water, squealing "No! No! No!" and started swimming frantically towards the boat. I signaled to Fabian to put the ladder down and he helped her back in.

After the dive I went to speak to her. I told her not to worry or feel bad, that lots of people get nervous; that she should try again sometime.
"But I wanted to go diving today!" she whined, and she glared at me, petulant, full of self-pity... and slightly accusing.

[ps] Welcome to two new readers! Thanks for stopping by!

[pps] I am referring, of course, to my newish "My Readers" space, located just to your right. They have all stood up and been counted (eight, I counted) – will you?! ;-)