el ultimo sol

Senior year of undergrad is finally underway. Honestly, there isn't a whole lot I can say about it yet- Two days of classes and a weekend almost under my belt and I feel like I'm right back in the swing of things. Definitely a little weird, and undoubtedly a departure from my summer life in New Hampshire, upperclassman life at Brandeis has been an interesting mix of unremarkable and its antonym. Still in denial that I have to be a somewhat real person, attend classes, do homework, and work on my databases, the last few days have been quite the mixture of all sorts of reunions, marked most commonly by the phrase "I spotted your hair from afar and recognized you!" Oh, Brandeis. Its almost good to be back.

#100happydays

I woke up this morning with the feeling that something was missing. Yesterday was the first night, in 100 days, that I went to sleep without hash-tagging a picture of something that made me happy with the title of this post. Little did I realize that my perspective on the little moments throughout my day would be so subtly impacted by this challenge, subtleties that directly make me an active participant in the integration of social media into our personal and cultural identities. This realization struck me about halfway into my 100 happy days, when on day 50 I found myself on a beach in North Hampton alone, and instead of enjoying the solitude that the nearly empty beach patiently provided me, I raised my screen in front of my gaze and took in the view from behind a digital lens. I have some beautiful shots of the sand, the water, the rocks, a crab that scuttled by me, but my thoughts were turned outward toward presentability rather than inward toward sanctity. When my friend finally joined me and we walked the stretch of beach to get ice cream on the other side, my photographic collection stopped short, I left my phone behind as well as my "connection" to the outside world. We found some beautiful shells and happened upon a very friendly dog, both occasions I longed for my phone and subsequently scolded myself for technological reliance.

A few weeks later around day 80, I was sifting through the many playlists in my iTunes and stumbled across one primarily stocked with old-school John Mayer. I'm talking like, Room for Squares old-school. Forever one of my favorite cohesive albums, one song in particular challenged the very nature of my #100happydays challenge. 3x5, an upbeat, folky, yet somewhat cheeky melody commenting on Mayer's proclivity for leaving his camera behind on his adventures. Not only does the entire song call out the average person's desire to capture every beautiful moment on camera to be able to share with those not able to join them, but each verse strikes me with the very honest truth that experiences should sometimes just plain be experienced. This notion followed me throughout the keeping of this blog, but also when I studied abroad- I was nervous that I wasn't documenting my time wisely enough and so I took home with me what you could call a generous (4,000+) collection of "moments" in the forms of quick point and shoot snaps. As a lifelong fan of photography, the first time I heard Mayer's song, I was a little offended. It seemed like he was targeting photographers and lovers of film, attempting to make an example of these beings as folks who simply were not living. And I have to admit, this assumption is based in some truth. A few years, countries, and 100 happy days later, however, I find that Mayer wasn't all knowing (an earth-shattering realization let me tell you). My favorite photographers not only are capturers of stunning imagery, but also they expertly impart the feeling and emotion of not only their subjects but of themselves in the image. Worlds become encapsulated in these miniaturized versions, and the ability to transport worlds in your pocket is not only infinitely amazing, but also pretty convenient.

Not every happy moment in my #100happydays challenge was documented. There were hundreds, if not thousands of moments where I felt happiness, but either didn't have the ability to document it, or chose not to. This challenge was definitely a challenge. Daily something-or-others-- be it posting on a blog, flossing, remembering to meditate, and even counting your blessings, can be extraordinarily difficult to maintain. But mindfulness, especially mindfulness of your own happiness in the world around you, really ought to be a habit. It's endlessly gratifying to realize when you are becoming happier just by modifying your approach to each day and its potential to maximize your happiness. Although I'll be taking a break from social media for a while, I don't think that I'll take a break from photographically documenting the happiness around me. I may not take 3x5's for every happy moment, but I'll certainly try my best to take, and make, each day for the happy day it deserves to be.

Sun Salutations and Observations

"You were born for Ashtanga."
Today, an Ashtanga yogi, in an Ashtanga Shala, told me, ME, that I was born for the Ashtanga practice. Mind you, she dropped this huge, universe-sized bomb on me while I was magically holding my wrist behind my back in a pose rendering my lotus legs and twisted limbs into a position I honestly never imagined my body could contort so effortlessly into. As the yogi's words sunk into my trembling muscles, my inhale slowly turned into a deep belly laugh and I twisted deeper.
"Are you okay?" she offered.
My response-- another laugh and "Yes, perfect!" in between fitful giggles and an attempt to maintain my once smooth Pranayama breaths.
"Good. I hope you stick with this, it will change your life!"
I breathe in again, my final of five breaths, and with my exhale respond, "It's already changed my life, I'm a pretzel!"
Another inhale, exhale, laugh from us both, Vinyasa and back into seated position on our mats, the yogi and I look at each other and smile. She has no idea that with those five words in those five breaths, the light I grew and nurtured and loved within me during my practices in Atenas' very own Casa Grande flickered, as if it was winking at me, reminding me that it was still there, burning and shining and glowing even without my attention.

Little did I know that walking into the studio tonight for a seemingly regular Primary class at a seemingly regular time would offer me a special, individualized practice. A practice with a devoted teacher, not only willing to take my pace but also pushing me past what I thought my body was capable of to what I really can accomplish. I am so, incredibly blessed to be able to return to that light, ignited within my being during those three magical months, whenever! And blessed to have yogis that remind me that my light is special enough to shine brightly and share.

This studio is a place of magic.

Om shanti, shanti, shanti. From the bottom of my heart and the very deepness of my spirit.

Namaste.