in dreams begin responsibilities

i recently read that line - in dreams begin responsibilities - in a murakami book. he attributes it to yeats. nothing makes me happier than reading murakami making sense of yeats. so i immediately wrote it down in my little black book for collecting the words and ways of the world that inspire me. i loved that line not only for the authors, but also for how much thinking it provoked. (this may just once again confirm my capacity for over-thinking, mind, but nonetheless.) my final assessment, unsurprisingly, is that we must dream boldly and find ways to live up to our dreams - that we have an obligation to our most uncensored, subconscious, true and sacred selves to pay attention and to do so.

i was dreaming earlier tonight, but am now sleepless at 4:00 am. thankfully i am no longer awake with heartache, merely jetlag. but if in dreams begin responsibilities, in jetlagged early morning hours begins a return to blogging. i am just back from a glorious three weeks in the land of the free and the home of the brave. while there, i did yoga again for the first time this year. i went to a class in nyc frequented by a few friends. the class was ansura - a style of yoga that i had not done before. it was an intense experience. the teacher's approach was very much focused on alignment and she spoke of relating to one's body in ways i had never imagined. instructing us, for example, to hug our muscles up our legs from our feet to our hips, open space behind our collarbones, and all manner of other gorgeously vivid anatomical ideas i cannot even recall now. she was obsessed with the tailbone and even had us find ours at some point as we were standing on our mats. her purpose was to open us up - to create space in the vessels that we are so that our grace and confidence could have sufficient space. i struggled with some of her instructions. i did not know how to actualize her command to make our blood less alkaline. or fully grasp her discussion of the challenges of being too acidic. (my internal dialogue was full of curious questions about that - ooh, i hate being too acidic, yes. good point. but when exactly am i too acidic? am i too acidic now? what causes it? and how can i make my blood less alkaline? deeper breathing? more focus? hmmm....) overall, it was a positive experience and it felt very good to be moving back towards yoga. and even if i haven't done it since, i have sincere intentions to resume my practice now that i am back in beijing. hopefully even find a teacher.

lying awake in my bed this not-quite-yet-morning, i reasoned that if i have returned to yoga, i can return to blogging. in fact, i have been having impulses to write since that saturday morning class. so here i am. one of the most interesting aspects of the ansura class was the way the teacher gravitated towards me. she has quite a following and the class was absolutely packed (people line up 30 minutes before class even after pre-registering). how much we all crave transformation! or is that it exactly? inspiration? calm? some glimpse into our own connection with the divine? a tight bum? maybe all of the above. she spoke during class about the relationship between precision and spaciousness - with more precision, we can create more space. an idea not unlike my sometimes love affair with discipline as freedom. of course, there are times when it is necessary and glorious to be imprecise. but i appreciated the more precision, more space mantra that morning and left feeling secure in my need to be more precise in my thoughts, words, deeds and enjoying the lightness that could bring. i am not sure why this teacher was drawn to me. after class, my friends were astonished, saying that we had a real spiritual connection. one commented almost jealously that she's been coming to her for years and never received any adjustments. i laughed it off saying she was only drawn to me because she could tell how needy and hurting i was, so it wasn't exactly a compliment. whether that's the case, i don't know.

i do know that early in the class, she came over to me while i was in downward-facing dog, used her hands to open my shoulders, placed her forehead in the centre of my back, nudging me a few times, and whispered "oh love, let it go." i almost burst into tears. instead i tried to allow myself to open further, to breath deeper, to process. (i have a document on my laptop called 'processing' these days. i have been writing there to avoid writing here. but i think i did more processing in that moment of letting my shoulders melt and twirl away from each other than i did in all my pages of cliched pondering.) she came back to adjust me one or two more times during the class. as the class was drawing to a close, she became concerned about a draft from the large studio windows that she felt was blowing on my mat. so as i was settling into shavasana, she constructed a small fort around me at my head using foam blocks and meditation blankets. she was protecting me from the draft, but it somehow felt to me as though it was about so much more than the wind. my friend on the mat next to mine turned and smiled, saying "you have a fort!" i smiled back, repeating, "i have a fort!" what i didn't say was, "i am fortified." i will get through this. i knew that before i set foot in the yoga studio. somewhere in that precise, deep, sacred space within. the wall of blankets this teacher created only confirmed it. but it was a safe, glorious feeling nonetheless.

when i was little, i used to call my little sister, the cat, and myself "glorious kings". i'm not sure where i got the term or why it comes to me now. but i felt like a glorious king in that moment in the fort. it was a sweet, precise calm after a few whirlwinded storms of emotions - unfathomable deep love for a small child, joy at reuniting with old friends, sadness to see a kindred spirit in terrible pain, overwhelming confusion and hurt after a difficult conversation with a love, gratitude for a full life and an open heart - and there was so much space there i could have swum in it forever.

instead, the class ended. we stretched, shrugged on our coats, and contemplated where to go for brunch. i almost went up to the teacher to thank her for her guidance, but i wasn't sure what to say. and i was worried i would cry. so i thanked her with my heart. when i tried to pay the $2 for my borrowed yoga mat, i was told to take my $2 and give it to someone who needed it to buy a cup of coffee. so i did.

and now i am back in beijing. trying to remain more precise, more spacious. paying attention to my dreams, noting their attendant responsibilities. and dreaming boldly.