Warrior Pose (53 page)

I'm now practicing and studying an average of twelve hours every day. I devour every book I can find and explore various restorative Yoga poses, endlessly sequencing them together in different ways while bringing all my awareness to how they impact my physical body, emotional body, and energy body. I notice where I am weak, imbalanced, or inflexible and seek to stabilize, strengthen, and expand. I also notice where I am emotional or feel energetically knotted up and seek to release past hurts, angers, and fears. When my mind gets
agitated, I focus on my breath, beckon myself back to the present moment, and reconnect with my inner Spirit.

Every moment of practice feels rich and nourishing, but the most sublime moments always come during the hours before dawn. I experience the whole world in a state of stillness and silence, yet filled with power and potential. The
Prana
of life seems to dance in the atmosphere, and I can taste it in every cell of my body. Being fully in the present moment gives me a sense of clarity and connection. It reminds me of the times I arose before sunrise in a Saudi desert, the mountains of Bolivia, or in the jungles of Africa. It didn't matter that there was chaos and conflict in the world. Everything seemed perfect, just as it should be. It was a deeply meditative state that, at that time in my life, I sensed but barely understood. Now I understand it in all its richness and fullness.

Outside my cave, my time is devoted to Morgan, except for four to five hours of sleep. With the relaxation and balancing practices of Yoga, this is usually more than enough rest and I feel more energized than ever before in my life. Rather than aging, it's as if I've found the fountain of youth and am growing younger by the day. I continue to get leaner, stronger, and more confident and optimistic about life. I feel completely in charge of my back pain now. It rarely comes up, and I'm able to handle it better every time it does.

But the cancer is something else. Whenever my throat feels sore or my energy plummets, a bolt of fear strikes me.
God grant me serenity. Accept what I cannot change. Change the things I can.
This is all I can do.
Let it go. Accept what happens. Stay with Yoga.
Maybe what some of my books say is true.
Maybe I can whip this, too
. Maybe, just maybe, I can also salvage my marriage. Like cancer, though, the thought of it weighs me down and fills me with fear. I can't figure out how to fix it and it's frustrating. The thought of facing it headon, maybe separating for a while or ending it altogether, completely overwhelms me.
God grant me serenity
.

On Sunday mornings, I break my routine and walk three blocks down the street to hear Father David's sermons. He continues to inspire me, and my love, gratitude, and respect for him run deep. The teachings of his church are in synch with the spiritual teachings
of Yoga, which is devoted to peace, compassion, and unity, but I realize I'll eventually stop attending services. Yoga is my path, my cave is my house of worship, and my
Sadhana
is my silent sermon. It provides me with a tangible experience of being connected to my sense of a higher power. Every movement, every breath, every mantra, and every meditation is ultimately a homage to the Divine. I'm in all the way—body, mind, and Soul.

CHAPTER 34

Bayside Healing

I
T NO LONGER HURTS to sit cross-legged on my mat without back support. I can touch my toes in forward folds. Arm-leg balances are a breeze. My range of motion in twists has doubled. The more powerful standing poses in my books are still far beyond my reach, but I feel like I'm always in the “edge” now, stretching my limits and mastering many poses that were once impossible for me to even consider. These include
Bujanghasana
,
Anjaneyasana
, and
Janu Sirsanana
.

These Sanskrit names always challenge me. It's hard to read or remember them, much less say them. But the books have some pronunciation tips, and the more I practice saying these names in Sanskrit, the more I feel connected to this ancient wisdom. When I whisper the name of a pose while deep in my practice, it's like the ancient sages are in the room with me. I think sometimes I can even feel them in my bones.

Bujanghasana
(Boo-jan-gah-suh-nuh) translates as Cobra Pose. In this posture, I lie on my stomach with my legs straight out behind me. Then I place my palms firmly by the sides of my chest and lift my head, chest, and shoulders up from my mat for five or six full breaths. This creates a backbend that strengthens the major muscles along my spine and makes me feel radiant and energized. A month ago I couldn't come close to performing this pose. Now it feels natural and nourishing.

Anjaneyasana
(Aan-jaahn-eee-ahhh-suh-nuh) is a Low Lunge Pose that demands strength, flexibility, and balance. To do this pose, I step my right foot on the mat between my hands, with my knee deeply bent. The left leg is straight out behind me, with that knee, shin, and foot down on the mat. Then I lift my torso up and raise both arms into the air. Now I am lunging into the ground, opening my hips while rising up through my torso, and expanding my ribs and spine in an arc. As I do this, I visualize that I'm reaching up to embrace the Divine while sinking into Mother Earth as I become that place where Heaven meets Earth.
As above, so below
. This pose is done on both sides, so I switch the positions of my legs after three or four breaths, which is all I have the strength for.

In
Janu Sirsanana
(Jaah-noo-sear-shah-suh-nuh), which simply means Head to Knee Pose, I sit with my right leg straight out in front of me on my mat. I bend my left knee and bring the sole of my left foot to my inner right thigh, pressing my left knee out and down toward the floor. I take a deep inhale and raise my arms high in the air, then exhale and fold forward at my hips, reaching for my right toes. I can't quite get there yet but have become flexible enough to hold my shin close to the ankle. This pose is also done on both sides, and I can hold it for ten breaths. It feels relaxing, nourishing, and comforting, like I'm folding into my heart.

From the Yogic viewpoint, all my
Asanas
,
Pranayama
, and meditation practices have acted synergistically to build something within me called
Agni
. Yoga teaches me that
Agni
is an energetic radiance—an inner fire—that burns away the dross. At its basic level,
Agni
is the digestive and metabolic fire that allows us to absorb nutrients from our food. It is also the inner heat of effort that promotes purification through perspiration, destroying harmful organisms and toxins while repairing and maintaining organs, muscles, bones, and blood.
Agni
is an inner elixir that enhances the immune system and creates resistance to disease. On more subtle levels,
Agni
helps us process, digest, and release mental and emotional imbalances, thus building self- discipline, confidence, and optimism. Ultimately,
Agni
is the radiance and illumination that arises from spiritual practice and helps us sustain and support a journey of self-awareness and personal transformation.

Once again, it's a concept totally outside of Western paradigms, but I like the depth of the science and the way it makes me revamp my view of the world. And because I'm actually experiencing it rather than just reading about it, I know it works, so all my skepticism is gone. The best example is that
Agni
also helps burn away body fat. Stepping on the bathroom scale after my practice this morning, I'm down to 180 pounds. Forty-five pounds lighter than my heaviest weight of 225 and back to where I was during my life as a foreign correspondent. Better yet, I haven't had a back spasm in a month. I don't need any stats or studies. This is all proof to me that Yoga and its fire of
Agni
are for real and it affirms my decision to be all in. One hundred percent. Maybe even one hundred ten percent.

Being adventurous and impulsive, I feel like celebrating my weight loss and a crazy thought arises inside of me about how to do it. I think I now have enough balance, energy, and courage to do something I never dreamed would be possible, especially with a failed back surgery: buy a bicycle! With a bike I can get out of my cave more, pedal around the island, see it for the first time through new eyes. The very idea makes me feel like a child again.

I've picked out a hybrid between a beach cruiser and a racing bike at the local bike shop. It's clearly much more bicycle than I am rider. When I climb on, I'm tenuous and unstable, like when I was four years old and my father removed the training wheels from my first bike. I hold on tightly, place my feet on the pedals, and take off, somehow managing not to fall as I zig and zag like a drunken snake down the street. I have just enough balance to stay up, but I quickly start sweating like I'm in the final stretch of the Tour de France. After rounding our neighborhood block just once, I'm drenched and my thighs are screaming so loudly I have to call it quits.

Soon enough, however, I get the hang of it. Much like my experience when I gain mastery over a challenging Yoga pose, I feel incredibly empowered on my bike. After a few days I can even make it twice around the block without feeling like I'm going to collapse,
and it puts much less strain on my back than walking does. Morgan has yet to get on a tricycle, but I envision us riding bikes all over the island one day, making more discoveries of special places to relax, tell stories, and play in the sunshine. I make a mental note of this:
One day we'll ride!

After a few weeks of daily practice, I can bike all the way to the bayside of the island a mile and a half from home. It's mostly a gentle, flat ride on beautiful residential streets and underneath one end of the Coronado Bridge. This takes me back to the Le Méridien Hotel, where I first lived after leaving Hong Kong in 1993. The hotel has been acquired by the Marriott chain, but the staff still sends me letters to confirm it is honoring the complimentary spa membership I was granted during my long stay here, which seems like a lifetime ago. The spa has a quiet, upscale gym offering generous views of the bay. Although I'm healthier than I've been in years, my muscles have atrophied and I have very low endurance. Yet another crazy idea bubbles up:
It's time to take the game a little further
.

Every morning now, thirty minutes before sunrise, I quietly slip out of my cave, hop on my bike, and head out through the darkness and quietude of Coronado's neighborhoods to the bay. I drink in everything I can see in the predawn light. Certain sights captivate me and become inspirational signposts. As I turn toward the pathway that takes me under the bridge, there's a sleek, towering eucalyptus tree on the edge of the golf course. It reminds me of the essence of
Anjanyasana
, the Yoga pose where I reach up to Heaven while deeply lunging into Mother Earth. A small sandy beach dotted with colorful rowboats reminds me that life still holds mystery, possibility, and adventure. The stately white egrets I see standing in perfect stillness at the water's edge almost every morning are the essence of focus, balance, and stillness.