Rituel Studio Pilates Paris - My Body/Myself

Tomorrow, Tuesday May 1 2012, my baby, my mini-me, my off-spring, the apple of my eye leaves for a 3 week adventure. Funny, she is going to the US with her French school mates for a cultural exchange. This will mark the first time she is away from her father and me for more than one night and it will mark a point in her spirit being free. She is 11 now; her passport is almost full; she has visited 16 countries in her life so far. She is everything I imagined she could and would be when I first looked upon her on my chest, newly delivered and alive. It marks a big point in my life as well. The point at which I realize she is her ownself and yet the best of me that she wishes to choose from. Our children have that freedom – to choose to be what of and from us that they wish and may equally discard, ignore or reject all that they deem unsuitable. I am proud. I am honored. I am humbled by her. I admire her courage. But I wonder…..? How did she go from this……

To this….in just 10 years – and what have I done that compares…?

In June I will be 49 and this little one has been integral in me finding myself, my body, my happiness and my peace with and within the world. We are our children, ourselves, and our bodies.

Simon is teaching an Anusara-inspired yoga class Tuesday mornings at 8am.  Wake your tired body and soul for an invigorating, quiet and oh so reviving yoga class at RITUEL.  You will not be disappointed. Simon says and I say too.

In the US we use three dots (…) as a way of conveying there is more from where we left off…more thought…more statement…more words that we momentarily (perhaps) find unreachable in the vast vocabulary of expression.  I am told that there is no such literal translation or use in French for the…I like it though. I like leaving the reader wondering, thinking about what the writer could have been thinking but did not say…what the thinker was seeing but could not put into words…

We were in Amboise last week.  We took a short road trip to see castles in several towns in France.  What we gloriously stumbled upon (since we do not procure tourist maps or really even plan much in advance of our departure) was a lovely town where Leonardo De Vinci passed his final days.  He lived in a modest castle that was connected – by way of an underground tunnel – to the larger, more grandiose castle of Frederic 1.  Maybe they would sneak away and invent really cool stuff.  Da Vinci was incredible and this museum – his former home – is devoted to preserving the context of his genius…nature.  Da Vinci was inspired most by nature. The grounds of his home are beautiful, sculpted by nature and textured by weather. The curators even went so far as to recreate mist, steam, cloud cover on the lower lying lawn and pond to evoke a sort of natural mysticism that one could imagine Da Vinci enjoying in early morning. It was beautiful.  Strolling the grounds however, I found my favorite thing of all – HUGE reproductions of his body sketches stretched over circular canvases. I found the perfect legs. Usually I see them on cyclists from afar, sculpted as they press and pull on bike pedals.  These were mere and humble sketches of a genius.  They made me want to run…literally run…to achieve such gorgeous legs.

So I leave you with the thought, the image, the unfinished vision of our own perfect nature…

One of my favorite things about travel is the effort and search for exercise.  Some places, like Steamboat Springs, Colorado or Annecy here in France require nothing but showing up and *presto* exercise opportunities and adventures abound. But in most other places and especially now that I have not been running, finding the event, the location, the inspiration is an adventure unto itself.

While in London recently I went to Bootcamp Pilates in the East of the city. Fortunately it is a 3 block walk from where I was staying so as I walk I get to see all of those racing cyclists I previously mentioned.  It gets the blood going just watching “commute pursuit” as we used to call it in Cali. Bootcamp Pilates is based on a military-type, non-stop, cardio series of exercises on a reformer, all executed within 20, 30 or 40 second intervals. As one of 10 women in the 7am class, suffice it to say I was both winded and wobbly when I left. A handsome hunk of an instructor walked the isles of reformers with a stopwatch and a sparkle in his eye describing the position and movement of each exercise, smiling as we all “hup-to’d” groaning discreetly under our breath.  It sure makes it easier to look at a handsome and built instructor while one is suffering.  It makes me wipe the suffering right off my face – and smile back. Try it: www.bootcamppilates.com. I guarantee you’ll like it.

While in Porto last week I was staying downtown in a hotel that had a sad exercise room from the 80′s – if then.  Instead I chose to go to the back courtyard and do plyometrics and old fashioned calisthenics.  I found the courtyard as my room window was immediately above it. Despite the very european clay tile roof view, this funny little boxed in area reminded frankly of places I have seen in China (and likely would have chosen as an exercise venue). The area was small and ruddy and seemed appropriate for some old fashioned ruddy exercise. Mission accomplished, I was glared at by the old man (must have been 180 years old) who shuffled out to sweep after I gathered my things to leave. I realized he was letting his chickens out to run in the courtyard.  I guess I was in a modern day coop?

I’ve enjoyed my years of exercising in new and strange places. I was once photographed by security cameras in the back stairwell of a five star hotel in Hong Kong where I had decided to ‘run the stairs’ like we used to in LA.  Not the same at all.  The air was stiflingly hot – as I recall it was July. I did get exercise as was evidenced by my soaking wet clothing, but I was more amused by how entertained the security guards were as they looked at the strips of film that captured my arrival and departure from every floor landing, up and down the 23 flights of stairs. They were howling with laughter when I said I intended to engage in the activity in order to get exercise.

And so the stories go in my quest to fulfill my daily rituel of health and fitness…enjoy yours too.

I have had the opportunity to go to London on a weekly basis for the past 2 months. I love it. London has a cycling culture that rivals my dear San Francisco. Rad, hot, aggressive, commuting, town-cruising, speed demon….you name it, there are enough cyclists on the road in London to impress even the most jaded cyclist and the outdoor enthusiast alike. And, in true form, they ride in inclement weather as well as during all the sunny days I have so far enjoyed. Not only does one have to watch the direction of traffic when crossing the street, but now one has to look UP from the nicely painted “LOOK LEFT” or “LOOK RIGHT” signs painted on the street to check that one won’t be stampeded by a herd of on-coing cyclists. Rather motley crews of all dress, bike type and state of the cycling art equipment are seen. Personally I love checking out the legs and the rear-ends, both side benefits (and required inputs) of the sport. I am reminded of my husband and his global cycling comrades who smile big wide smiles at the joy and luxury of being able to ride great distances, huge mountains, city flats as part of their daily work. Cheers to London for advancing enough to go back to cycling!

I was in India last week. While I was there for business I sought to find accessories for one of our Yoga teachers at Rituel. It is interesting having such breadth of disciplines at the studio as I get a good perspective of their history, techniques and frankly commerce.  Yoga is a big business!!  I thought that in India I would see the pure, the true, the essential yoga. Yet when I went to the Ashram to find accessories, I was affronted by the commercial side of Yoga: Yogi DVD’s for sale; retreats to go on to find spirituality; groups to join to become one with oneself; articles of worship; accessories to aid in the practice.  Clothing that is intended to make the practitioner comfortable – or intended to make the practitioner look authentic….I was not sure. Rather than be disgusted at the commercialism of spiritualism I smiled.  I grinned at the universal principle of the “bottom line” of it all. We are all engrossed in and absorbed by the bottom line of life – money, commerce, consumption.  Here I thought Yoga was about the ultimate rejection of such material and superficial things. Again, I smiled.  Welcome to the real world Yogis….

I am really surprised by some of the imagery of bodies out there that is intended to entice, seduce, appeal and lure us. I am not a prude and I am hardly afraid of body imagery. I just find it surprising the imagery pasted all over cities and in magazines. It is in stark contrast to how people, especially women, see themselves. We are left insecure and wondering why we don’t measure up to the images while we aggressively try to manage our bodies. In fact the human body, our bodies, are as beautiful as things get. No matter the shape, the form. They do not need to be poised and posed to be a wonder of beauty. I know this to be true. A room full of people, mostly naked doing exercise together is one of the most joyous celebrations of this truth. I participate in classes at the studio and revel in the fun and hard work of personal expression through physical exercise. No matter our shape, weight, form, we together enjoy our bodies.

I have been traveling to London a lot lately and have developed my own ritual. I take the train from Gare du Nord to St Pancreas station, London. In St Pancreas there is a great open-air cafe, store, & restaurant called SOURCED market. I wish I could simulate the logo as the type-face has it but I can’t. Its a nice graphic though. It stocks, makes and sells only organic food….and local organic food from the British Isles. Really good food. I look forward to my trips to London specifically so I can arrive and have a great cafe latte and a yummy muffin (sometimes halepeno cornbread) and then stop again on my return to have a homemade soup with (again) halepeno cornbread, or one of those Italian cheesy rice-balls….arancini. I pick up some cookies for my daughter and something ale-y for my beer-loving hubby. It is a nice new ritual, one that compliments my body-tending rituals held at the studio. I used to think these types of patterned rituals were….well, for old people. Ah, I welcome being old if this simple pleasure is what I experience more and more. Ode to our RITUELS……tell me some of yours…..

We are having an Open House Sunday Feb 5 from 11-5.  All classes are free – we are adding classes for everyone’s enjoyment.  We have Kids Yoga and Hip-Hop too! Come visit the Studio, meet the instructors, take classes and get to know what fun is available 7 days a week!

Paris is grey for much of the winter.  When the clear sunny sky emerges I am briefly reminded of the luxury of the sun I enjoyed in California. Paris does not get snow to speak of – snow seems to justify winter. Parisians – indigenous and relocated – seem not to go too many places too early when it is cold, as if being out in the elements is too much to bear for the “gift” at the end of the journey.  I taught my class to myself this morning – too cold outside for anyone to come so early in the morning (8am). I enjoyed it; actually I kicked my own butt. It was fun. As I exercised I reflected on Paris in the winter – we have the best sandwiches in the whole world; women in their elegant fur coats dominate the streets; once-open aired cafés now shelter the many still wanting the passerby-street view; and we get to walk amongst some of the most stunning architecture and urban design in the world in centuries. By 9am people starting filling the studio for their classes and lo’ and behold the bright blue sky emerged. It is a nice day in Paris in the wintertime.