The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali* state “Practice is the steadfast effort to still [the] fluctuations [of the mind]” (Sutra I.13).

Essentially this translates as: practice yoga frequently.

While steadfast effort can refer to many things, including the effort you expend within any one practice session or within any one pose, it also means you must practice often, diligently, with dedication.

Lately, my yoga practice has been characterized by the exact opposite; it has been sporadic, if not non-existent, and lacking in energy and enthusiasm. As I mentioned before, my yoga teacher abruptly left the studio where I practice and it was a real upset to my routine. I had been attending her classes on the same days, at the same time for years and I have found it impossible (so far) to get back into any kind of regular class attendance. That, on top of the usual semester overload of work and a few specific personal and professional crises, have kept me busy, distracted, and uncommitted to my practice.

But, I want that to change. I want to recommit to doing yoga regularly — make a conscious effort to find another yoga class to attend and fix it in my schedule — but most of all I want to implement a daily home practice.

For the non-yogis out there, “home practice” means you make space in your day and in your home to practice on your own, without a teacher directing your actions. You decide what and how to practice. You decide how long and at what level of difficulty. The practice is your own.

I’ve had a home practice for a while but, as I stated, it’s really suffered from neglect lately.

I’m reading Malcom Gladwell’s Outliers and one of things he states in his fascinating deconstruction of the notion of innate talent is that there is clear evidence that frequent, extended, dedicated practice is necessary for mastery of any skill.

He writes: “The idea that excellence at performing a complex task requires a critical minimum level of practice surfaces again and again in studies of expertise. In fact, researchers have settled on what they believe is the magic number for true expertise: ten thousand hours” (39-40).

That’s a pretty amazing factoid. As far as I know the only complex task that I have practiced for 10,000 hours is reading (which may explain why I am an English prof). I certainly haven’t practiced yoga for 10,000 hours — but I plan to try. It’s a lifetime goal, not an immediate one — but I do have a few immediate goals too. I’m dedicating myself to a mini, individual yoga challenge: Practice 30 times before January 10. That’s 37 days from tomorrow, so I’m clearly building in a buffer because I know that with the holidays and travel, I will not reasonably practice everyday. This may already be too ambitious, but, what the hey? Isn’t that what holiday breaks are for: setting absurdly high goals that cannot possibly be accomplished? (Stay tuned for my post on my holiday research goals, which are equally absurd.)

I’m planning on installing a counter in the margin to keep track of my progress (anyone have any widget recommendations?) — a little extra incentive to practice, practice, practice!

* Patanjali is believed to be one of the first authors of yoga philosophy, writing the Yoga Sutras sometime between 500 and 200 B.C. Like many ancient texts, there are questions about whether the author even existed, was a single individual or a collective oral tradition, and whether the sutras that have come down to us are authentic or accurate. Nevertheless, they compose the core philosophy for most modern yogis. My translation is BKS Iyengar’s Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali (1993).

Once upon a time, a hardworking but harried young academic named Bittersweet Girl was looking for a place to do her work.

BSG made her way to her office, where she can close the door and have supreme privacy to focus on her grading. She cleared off her desk, arranged her piles of essays, and set to work. Ahh … working in the office. But, what’s that? Could it be the graduate student whose office is next door, separated by only the thinnest wall that allows BSG to hear every sound from her neighbor’s office? And, could it be that Graduate Student has elected today to be the day that she sits at her desk and makes phone calls for hours, engaging in an endless stream of inane chitchat, as well as a few poorly-chosen comments about faculty in the department, so that eventually BSG feels as if Graduate Student is standing right behind her and talking in her ear?

BSG, realizing that her office wasn’t the right place to work, considered her other options, packed up her papers and went home. At home, she thought, I can put on some comfy sweat pants, sit at my kitchen table, make a cup of tea, and get back to work. Ahhh … working at home. But, what’s that? Could it be the stench of a cat box that hasn’t been cleaned in several days? Is that an enormous pile of dirty dishes and crumbs on the countertops? Is that the dog whining at the door to have a walk?

BSG, realizing that her home wasn’t the right place to work, considered her other options, packed up her papers and went to her favorite coffee shop. At the coffee shop, she thought, I can sit at a large table overlooking the river, with the trees turning beautiful colors outside, there will be some lovely music playing, they will bring me a steaming cup of chai, and I will get back to work. Ahhh … working at the coffee shop. It was just right.

Except that there are no coffee shops in Unnamed City, where BSG lives (except in her imagination).

So, what did BSG do? She got in a very bad mood, snipped at her much beloved partner, finally broke down and cleaned the cat boxes and the kitchen, and took the dog for a walk. Then she wrote a blog post about it.

Eventually, she will get back to work. And, only tomorrow, when (or if?) she returns all her students’ papers, will it be just right.

I’m going to follow in Squadratomagico’s  glitter-dusted footsteps and begin to password protect some of my posts — particularly those relating to my ongoing adventures in professional hell. I’m very happy to share the password with loyal readers so please email me. I have a new email: bttrswt02 [at] gmail [dot] com.

If you have emailed me previously about the password, I am going to continue to use the same one.

I’ve been a bit alarmed by the extraordinarily large amount of blog traffic my previous post has received today. Something about hundreds of anonymous folks traipsing by to gawk at my humiliation has left me a bit queasy. So, I’ve password protected the post and if anyone wants to view it, you’ll have to send me an email to get access.

I don’t know if I’ll continue to do this or not. I’m just feeling a bit vulnerable right now — but I also continue to be really grateful to everyone who left kind words of support.

I’m going to take a break from blogging. I didn’t blog on my vacation (of course) and ever since I got back, I’ve been feeling distinctly uninspired. Every thing I consider blogging about seems boring and silly. I am boring myself with my imaginary blog posts — always a bad sign.

So, I’m going to sign off for a while — undoubtedly to return as soon as some particularly annoying job-related event transpires, which requires some anonymous bitching.

In the meanwhile, stay cool, yo.

This is making the email rounds but it’s too precious to pass up ..

DO NOT DO THIS!

I don’t know what is making me happier on this beautiful, auspicious day …

Obama being sworn in …

Or finally seeing the back of this motherfucker …

I am so relieved I don’t have to actively hate Bush any more.

America, I see a new sun rising.

more animals

Hooray! The lines were long. There were more blacks than whites (although I do live in a black neighborhood). There were lots of folks with their kids — and I just can’t believe anyone brought their kids along to say, “Okay, little Suzy, now we push the button for that nice old man, McCain.”

Feeling hopeful, when I’m not feeling absolutely terrified.

Oh yeah. He’s the man.

I’ve been in something of a blogging slump lately. I’ve been feeling disillusioned about blogging when the whole world seems to be falling apart — it just seems so self-indulgent to write about my petty concerns at this moment in time. And, for some reason, my intense book avoidance (which is to say, my absolute inability to work on the necessary book revisions while my tenure clock ticks loudly in my ear) got transferred to this blog, as well. I felt that if I had time for blogging, I should be using it to work on the book and since I couldn’t work on the book, I wouldn’t blog. Or some equally tangled logic.

But, yesterday I was reminded of one of the reasons I started blogging in the first place.

Yesterday I watched Jill Bolte Taylor on Oprah. (No, I do not usually watch Oprah but I tuned in for Dr. Taylor.)

If you have been living under a rock and don’t know who Jill Bolte Taylor is, watch this before proceeding.

Like many of you, I received this clip in my email inbox a few months ago and was really blown away. Her story, which is so inspiring and beautiful, also got me thinking about right/left brain issues. I am definitely a left brain kind of a person. I prefer order, organization, structure, and logic. But, in my youth I was also a pretty creative person. I wrote a lot, daydreamed a lot, dabbled in various arts, played a musical instrument, and generally considered myself an artistic individual. Lately, I’ve felt that my right brain impulses have been squelched by the necessarily left brain aspects of my life and job. I think the sheer effort to publish in the quantity necessary to get tenure at my institution, the constant working schedule with few breaks to indulge the imagination, the stress and anxiety … have eroded something of my creativity.

One of the reasons I started blogging was to have a space in which to explore my creativity once again. Now, you could certainly argue that blogging is not terribly right brain, what with it involving language and technology. But, for me, just to write in a quasi-fictional, quasi-autobiographical format and to play around with the various memes and themes of the blogosphere, was a kind of liberating experience.

So, watching Dr. Taylor yesterday and reflecting upon how much I want — and need — to reawaken that part of me that isn’t bound down to deadlines and isn’t subject to a tenure review … well, maybe the Bittersweet Girl part of myself should try blogging again.