Being vs. Doing

So Asaf, who I mentioned in my last post, has been taking my yoga classes the last couple months. We've had a nice trade going (like my logo over there on the right rail? Me too. Thanks, Asaf!), and he has commented several times that our teaching styles are similar.

Last Saturday, I finally got to take his class. And I agree with him: we do have similar styles. In fact, I couldn't stop scribbling about the crossovers of what we were learning -- Physicality of Improv is the name of the class -- and yoga. The biggest of which is being vs. doing.

We did this solo exercise where the improviser would enter the space with some crazy physicality. Not a character, per se, but just a specific exploration of speed, space, tension, etc. So everybody looked a little wacky. And it was enjoyable to see each person move around the space in his own peculiar way, connect with the audience and say, "Hello." We were just watching the actor explore being physical. Or more simply, watching that person be. There was no doing.

Until there was. Asaf would walk in and make that person a surgeon, or a dentist, or a babysitter, or something else with a prescribed list of activities we all have in out heads because we are citizens of the modern world. And as soon as the actor started performing the surgery, or (in my case) drilling teeth, the scene got BORING. Fast. You could feel the life of it draining away.

Of course, as we each began to figure that out, you could feel the fun, the joy come back into each scene. Every time. It was like magic.

And I started thinking about how hard it is to keep being, even when the doing comes in. In yoga. In life. But when you find it, that feels like magic, too.

As soon as hatha yoga becomes something you do, it really sucks. At least in my experience. It becomes like running was for me years ago. I never really liked it, but I loved having run. It was something I did, a means to an end. I wanted a workout, an endorphin high... so I ran. Simple as that. But then the act of running was never meditative. I was so focused on the doing that I wasn't being. When you're being, the line between runner and running starts to dissolve. You can't have one without the other. And time stops for you.

In hatha yoga, if you "do" Tadasana, or Mountain Pose, you get bored. "Um. I'm standing. What's the big deal?"

If you "do" Warrior 3, you get pissed. I see the daggers coming out of the eyes of those people in class: "How long are you going to keep me here?!"

If you "do" Bakasana (Crow Pose) or whichever hand balance challenges you, you fall out as soon as you get in.

The trick to all of these is the same: You have to be the pose. I realize that sounds like a knock-off Bruce Lee line, but in my experience, it's true.

So how do you do that? How do you be? You breathe. You stay focused on what's happening in this micro-instant. On this breath. If you're holding your breath, it's a dead-on sign that you're doing, not being. Because the pose will change with every breath. And the more you pay attention, the BIGGER those changes become. They become earth-shakingly obvious. And fascinating. And so enjoyable to experience.

Interesting that we're called human beings, yet the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning is my to-do list. It's a strange ride, this effort to rediscover our birthright: being. The doing is so damn seductive.

Ladies are funny. Men are flexible.

LAFF -- the Ladies Are Funny Festival -- started on Wednesday night. I was there for the first night of lady-dominated shows. Three improv troupes -- Firth & Arjet, Sarah 7 and Girl Embassy World Team -- played, and all three were really good.

Really. Good.

Improv is mostly dominated by men, historically. Think about how many famous women have emerged from SNL. Now think about how many men. There are simply more men in comedy, generally speaking. So it makes sense that more of them would become household names. And you could argue that in the past there's been this a bias that women aren't funny. That maybe that still exists today. Or maybe just that women aren't asfunny as men.

I haven't actually asked them, but I would bet the ladies of Girls Girls Girls had it in their minds when they started this fest a few years back that A) this bias does exist, and B) their intention is to change that. Or at the very least to celebrate women in comedy.

Then the whole gender bias thing made me think about the ratio of women to men in yoga classes. It's no secret that there are generally more women who practice yoga. And there's a general conception that many women are naturally more flexible than men, especially in areas like the hips. (My boyfriend has an impressively deep pigeon pose, and just yesterday he was telling me that once in a yoga class a [female] teacher came up to him while he was in the pose and whispered, "That's amazing. I've never seen a guy do that before.")

Is being in touch with your body a primarily feminine attribute? And honing your cleverness a masculine skill? Why do these generalizations exist in the first place? Where are they rooted?

In about 45 minutes I'm taking a physical improv workshop with my friend Asaf Ronen -- a dude. Should be interesting with all this masculine/feminine/body/comedy hubbub freshly percolating in my mind.

Good morning, morning.

My favorite time to practice yoga is the early morning. But lately I've not made it a priority. It's easier to commit to when there are other people involved, which is why I'm so glad Chrispy is teaching a 6:30am vinyasa class on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, starting this week.

I didn't get to sleep till about midnight. It sucked to wake up before 6, even though that's my favorite time of day.
Chrispy's sequence was very challenging for my lingering hamstring injury, and it sucked to feel like a lame-o.
Why do my obliques feel so weak? That sucked too.

Sometimes you have to go through the sucky to get to the sweet. Because right now I feel great.

Here I am.

It's funny how much I'm thinking about what to write here. My reason for starting a blog is to somehow marry my two Big Passions: improv and yoga. To me, both are about the present moment -- that elusive thing that we are always in, yet somehow habitually missing.

At least I do. How often am I really focused on what I am actually doing or feeling in this moment?

In improv, you have to remain present in order to tell good stories, in order to be good (whatever that means -- but we do know it when we see it). In yoga, you have to remain present to make crazy shapes with your body and still make nice with the gravitational field.

In both cases, thinking doesn't really serve you. Or rather, overthinking doesn't. The difference? Consider whether the mind is your tool or your overlord.

At least that's my experience. Which is why it's so ironic that I stared at this screen for as long as I did before finally writing my first-ever blog post. I don't want to write something that isn't good, that isn't perfect. But what is perfect, if not perfectly present?

That isn't to say I won't proofread. But maybe it's also to say that I won't censor. That's my intention: to be present, not perfect, as I relate my musings about improv and yoga.