Yoga on Coffee
I’m taking part of an Ashtanga Second Series workshop this evening and tomorrow afternoon. It’s a much-needed kick in the ass to get me back into the alleged nerve-cleansing group of poses.
The problem for me, though, (well, one of the problems) in doing yoga after 8;30 or so in the morning is that I’ve got to have my coffee and when I do, I get all jittery in the postures.
At least that’s what I’m blaming it on.
I admit it; it’s no lie: I’m addicted to caffeine, so the chances of my going all day without my cup of joe are slim to none; still, I notice the difference it makes in my practice. I guess if I were a better yogi, and perhaps a better person, I’d try to give it up.
On the other hand, there’s part of me that clings to my vices—assuming coffee is a vice (it’s a crutch, at least)—and recoils at the idea of getting all pure and everything.
Conversely, I regularly, especially during my practice, wish I weren’t so dependent upon something that clearly isn’t all that great my long-term goal of achieving liberation through the eight limbs of yoga—assuming, of course, that that is my goal.
Assuming, of course, that it even makes sense to think about a goal whose main quality is a kind of goal-lessness.
I think. Or don’t.
My understanding from Douglas Brooks, who knows something about this kind of stuff is that the desires that we’ve been given—for nice things, including in my case, bikes and coffee—are not to be discounted unless one buys completely into an ascetic path to enlightenment. The road I’m on clearly is filled with a number of temptations, not all of which I am inclined—at least in this incarnation (which I’m inclined to think is the only one I get)—to turn down.
Especially when they are freshly ground and piping hot.
The problem for me, though, (well, one of the problems) in doing yoga after 8;30 or so in the morning is that I’ve got to have my coffee and when I do, I get all jittery in the postures.
At least that’s what I’m blaming it on.
I admit it; it’s no lie: I’m addicted to caffeine, so the chances of my going all day without my cup of joe are slim to none; still, I notice the difference it makes in my practice. I guess if I were a better yogi, and perhaps a better person, I’d try to give it up.
On the other hand, there’s part of me that clings to my vices—assuming coffee is a vice (it’s a crutch, at least)—and recoils at the idea of getting all pure and everything.
Conversely, I regularly, especially during my practice, wish I weren’t so dependent upon something that clearly isn’t all that great my long-term goal of achieving liberation through the eight limbs of yoga—assuming, of course, that that is my goal.
Assuming, of course, that it even makes sense to think about a goal whose main quality is a kind of goal-lessness.
I think. Or don’t.
My understanding from Douglas Brooks, who knows something about this kind of stuff is that the desires that we’ve been given—for nice things, including in my case, bikes and coffee—are not to be discounted unless one buys completely into an ascetic path to enlightenment. The road I’m on clearly is filled with a number of temptations, not all of which I am inclined—at least in this incarnation (which I’m inclined to think is the only one I get)—to turn down.
Especially when they are freshly ground and piping hot.
posted by Professor Dave at 9:00 PM
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