Lusting for Wanderlust

It may be rainy and cold in San Francisco, I may be sick going on two months and the couch may be buckling under the weight of my permanently planted sloth like self. But I'm doing my damnedest to channel, summer -peace love and lulu. And so I revisited this post....and immediately signed up for my day pass to Wanderlust. This years menu includes 3 non local teachers who I've been wanting to practice with for a couple years now and I really can't wait.

In the meantime re-reading the post below that I wrote for Mountain Lotus Yoga really reminded me how very happy I was that entire weekend. And how much my body wants more yoga!

Peace, Love and Lulu

Last weekend’s weather couldn't have been more beautiful for the Wanderlust Festival in Squaw Valley Village. Warm breeze and nothing but sunshine gave way to yogi’s flowing through their vinyasa’s in sunglasses, straw fedora’s and hopefully an extra layer of sunscreen. With anywhere from 11 classes per time slot, held at different locations throughout the village, it was never an easy choice. Especially considering the amazing teachers that came from all over to take part. I got to watch but not sweat through Kerri Kelly and Suzanne Sterlings “Off the mat and into the world: Flow of intention class” live drums and limited shade in the meditation dome got everyone warmed up and ready for the weekend.

Sadie Nardini’s “Be a yoga ninja” workshop got my abdomen a little more than iced (I was sore for 4 days after), and Duncan Wong’s arm balance workshop with 200 other wanderlusters was entertaining, humbling and as did everything else at Wanderlust, started late and ran over. But there wasn’t too much rushing going on anywhere. The low-key positive vibe that pulsed throughout the four days was stepped up a notch by Shiva Rea’s “Fluid Power” class; A highlight of the weekend for me. It’s unlike any class I have ever taken and no explanation would do it justice. For live feeds that were taken from her classes check out shivarea.com. It’s probably worth watching if you’re at all curious what her popularity is all about. You’ll also get a new take on the traditional flow.

3 more classes on Sunday (with Les Leventhal and another Shiva Rea class) left me strong and sore and with little energy to rally for the music. I did catch the Yard Dogs Road Show and without knowing what to expect I can say I was surprised and impressed by the mini-variety show they put on. It doesn’t explain why they were running around the festival all weekend in shiny 70’s lycra bodysuits, starting impromtu conga lines but then again that wasn’t the only bizarre goings on at the festival. Check it out next year for yourself, it’s at the Squaw Village again and as smooth as this year went I can only imagine the third year running will be even better!

-Mya

*Image of Duncan Wong and Shiva Rea's classes by tinywater. For more festival photos click here. Wanderlust Festival Website

Memories from the Greyhound

I rode the greyhound down the East coast of Australia, listening to Blind Pilot's Oviedo - The thrill here is quicker than you'd think- and sleeping on my sweatshirt, beach towns made for backpackers with nothing in between except a coastline lunch spot, fish and chips I never ate wafting through the gas station area. Not a local in site except the fry cook and cashier. Greyhound city. Population 2.

My trip was planned by a backpacking travel agent expert. One of a million my trip was exactly the same but different than everyone else's. - I left all my doubts on the airplane -

Pull into Rainbow Beach. Unload from the bus. Food bag from overhead compartment. Check. Backpack. Check. Carry on suitcase. Check. Do I walk to the hostel are they picking me up?There was the Yongala Dive, no one else got off the bus. I sat at the depot on the outskirts of the agriculture town. Dusty roads and a shaded bench I sat reading. Wondering. Listening to Blind Pilot - I didn't know, I didn't know I'm not in control - thinking what brought me here? I got here by greyhound but how did I get to this town, Aire, where no one is on the street, going to do the 7th dive of my life in the middle of now where Australia. By myself. The truck pulled up and Dave from San Diego threw my suitcase in the back and drove me to my accommodation, a house converted to a dive shop/hotel. We ate roasted chicken, 7 of us, and walked through the neighborhood in the warm night air. Strangers. Friends. We dove together the next day, drank around an old picnic table under a yellow light listening to electronic music on speakers hooked to the dive instructors ATV. And the next day Dave drove me to the bus depot, dropped me off with well wishes and memories for life. Except I can't remember if his name really is Dave. And the greyhound pulled into the depot out of now where and a new driver loaded my suitcase into the under car storage, checked my ticket and let me on as another girl got off. - I didn't know, I'm not invincible - And I sat down rested head on sweatshirt and listened to Blind Pilot.