(c) 2009 Todd Sykes.

Alright, people. So, I’ve been at the ashram for a few days now.  The good news is I’m in India, and I’m still thrilled to be visiting this welcoming, multifarious and outspoken country. The not-so-good?  Unfortunately, my conference experience so far leaves much to be desired.

Number 1, the event itself. The ashram is beautiful, and there’s at least one person here who is amazingly helpful (thanks Suzanne!), but I can’t say the same for everyone else. No one seems to know the answer to anything, and disorganization seems to be the norm.

Number 2, fellow attendees. I’ve met a few very cool people, but many more who qualify as, as my my dad says, “good candidates for random drug testing.” It’s entirely possible that I’m just an unenlightened yogi, but does *everyone* have to have a spiritual name? Is the Ganges River always a dramatic “Mother Gan-gah?” Is everything “sacred,” and “beautiful,” and “amazing?” Really? Really??

Number 3, I fell yesterday and have an huge blue bruise on my bum. And finally, there’s the noise. I mean, it’s an ASHRAM. There’s supposed to be a period of silence from 10 p.m. until 10 a.m., but I haven’t heard it (or not heard it) yet. I had to switch from my college dormitory-style living quarters (notably, the “Ganga Block”); I was sleeping in 30-minute increments. It was return to the law firm — I was billing sleep.

Number 4, another piece of plain bad luck: my camera doesn’t seem to be working anymore.

Those things aside, however, I’ve also been disappointed with the classes. I’ve taken 4 so far, and have learned a few things, but they’ve been without as much challenge or fresh perspective as I’d anticipated.  It is surprising because (1) I’m in the country that created the discipline, and (2) let’s be honest, I’m not the best out there. I’m good and fairly seasoned, but I consider myself to be an intermediate — not an advanced — practitioner. I’ve got lots to learn, lots of room for improvement. In fact, that’s what yoga is all about: practicing. I’m here to practice with some of the best, and I just haven’t found them yet.

To be fair, the classes have some high points — just yesterday I took a class with a 99-year old yoga teacher, and he’s clearly got a leg up (literally) on most of the competition. But whether I can translate what I see, which may very well be taught to appeal to the masses and all levels, with what I can teach my students… that remains to be seen.

All of that said, as with most things, there are silver linings.  I’m confirming that my studies in NYC, both standard and specializations, gave me a great foundation for what I do.  I am discovering something new: program-oriented, more structured trips just aren’t my thing.  I just do better with the open-ended flexibility that defines my other travels. I’m in awe of my daily, highly-stimulating surroundings, and I am bombarded with a new, interesting personality at every turn. Oh, and I don’t have a fractured coccyx. That would definitely call a timeout in the game.

That said, I’m going to go do a little leg work (no pun intended), in search of the class that sinks me into the zone, the teacher that motivates me to hold my handstand for longer than I think I can, the series of postures that inspires me as much as the scenery. It might be within my program or at a different ashram or with the local randomly doing a tree pose in the middle of the street (yep, they’re out there). Either way, I’m definitely off to get my asana on. Wish me luck. *smile*