Early Morning

I love early morning. I adore the first snow fall. I am grateful for this earth.

Early Morning

Life emerges new here.
It's early morning breath
pinkens the sky
lingering over soft mountains
offering up
simplicity.

The silence of snow looming
relinquishing the first flurry
of early winter.
Each delicate flake
a child dancing,
playful in their wake.

I watch from the inside
sipping hot chammomile
aware of my presence
in this world.
My ability to slide
into the steam of my tea,
the blood of my hands
into each flake of snow
arriving safely
on expectant ground.

sometimes

Sometimes anxiety just is. It wakes me up in the middle of the night and plays on my bones like a computer screen that will never turn off. I toss and turn and surrender to restlessness. I feel unsafe and nothing will be all right. My brain will not slow down.

It is now 5 am. A new day and I am off to practice yoga. I can only hope that the yoga button will reset me. How can I do my life differenly right now? How can I release the tension that consumes me?

Off to yoga. In the cold. Scrape the frost. Hold my breath the whole way. Just me on a mission.

For now,
Anne

what matters

We are coming upon the season of busyness. A holiday season that every commercial and magazine cover suggests be spent with family and friends. As a mother of two and business owner, this holiday season is a time where I want the season to be memorable for my children and free of stress for my family members and students and employees. A holiday season filled with details, yummy food, wonderful presents, family get togethers, plays, and parties. This is just to name a few of the things that are going on for me. The holidays are a time that can be filled with lots of love, both giving and receiving. As wonderful as the holiday season can be, it can also be a time that I find myself being externally driven, eating and doing too much, feeling lonely in spite of all the commotion and sometimes disappointed by those that I love.

Over the past week, at the end of each yoga session, I have asked my students to envision themselves over the next month or so. To envision what it is each one of us wants to bring into our lives during this festive time. This could be a quality such as grace or courage or strength or peace. In my own case, whenever I close my eyes and ask what is important to me over the next month or so, I keep returning to the same answer. To stay connected to myself. To stay connected to my center.

Fortunately I know what it is I need to stay connected to myself. I have learned this through my daily practice of listening to my body. My body doesn't lie. My body asks me to continue my simple practices of walking, yoga, knitting, and cooking healthy nutritious foods. To continue these practices even when the business of the seasons begs for me to let my own practices go so that I can get everything "done," so that all the details of the season are neatly and efficiently taken care of.

It is interesting to me that other things don't show up. Being a busy mom of two wonderful children, I would expect that spending quality time with my children would present itself as a possibility for making this holiday season the best it can be. Or with my husband. Since I am hosting Thanksgiving and Christmas at my house, perhaps an intention such as creating the most wonderful atmosphere and nurturing foods for my family and friends should be the intention that shows up for me. What about orchestrating a holiday atmosphere for the students and staff at Samadhi Yoga Studio? All of these things are also important and I do spend time strategizing how to do these things but ultimately I always come back to these things feeling like pressure.

One thing I have learned is that when something feels like pressure, either in my mind or in my body, that I must listen to the pressure. I must find ways to do things differently so that it doesn't feel like pressure. This is essential for my self preservation and my happiness. The self permission to slow down, check in with myself and question anything that feels like "pressure" is certainly in conflict with the subtle puritanical ethics I was brought up with. Probably this is in conflict with our western society's ethics.

I am drawn to my yoga practice. As I go through each pose, the alignment or the visble container is important. But what is most important is how the posture feels from the inside. Can I breathe comfortably? Can I breathe in the most equisite energy? Can I honor my body's need for shifting subtly in the posture for ease and comfort? Do I need to come out of the posture or do I need to stay grounded and breathe into the discomfort?

Over the next month or so, my daily practice is to listen to my body. Listen to what feels like pressure and if it does, where is this showing up for me? Is it showing up in tension in my jaw or my shoulders? Is it showing up in my actions such as unconscious eating or gossiping. How can I eliminate the pressure? Can I do things differently? Can I find ways to nurture myself so that I don't partipate in habits that take me away from my center. Habits that might feel good in the moment to relieve my pressure but ultimately chip away at me feeling relaxed inside.

When I am relaxed inside, I am real. I am my truest self. I am happy. This season, I recognize that I need some essential and simple things for me and me alone to be relaxed. I need to practice my yoga. I need to get my body outdoors in nature. Walking or hiking is perfect. I need to nurture my body with healthy foods and adequate sleep. I find my knitting very relaxing and meditative and I need to make space in my life for this as well. If I let myself get so busy that these simple practices fall away, than I am doing too much and I am not honoring what I need to feel relaxed and whole. Everything, especially taking care of others, begins to feel like pressure. When I am not honoring myself- my family and my students will not be honored by me as well.

My simple practices are important to me.

I would love to hear how you plan to honor yourself this season. What inward practices you resolve to stay with.

Namaste,
Anne

Yoga Poem

I recently opened up my messy book of poems that I had written. Most of these poems were written in 1999/2000. A time when I was writing alot with some wonderful women in a writing group. It was a time of creativity and change for me as I was yet to take on the responsibility of teaching lots of yoga and eventually a studio. Two weeks ago, I joined another writing group and that has inspired me to look back at my writings. A special thank you to Temple. Most of my poetry is probably way too heavy for this blog site, but I think some of the yoga poems woould be just right.



There is a city within my body
complete with noises,
angrymotorists,
busy pedestrians,
smog,
violence,
poverty.

But
this city is humanity
in both its dark and light forms,
in its day and night,
its outside and inside
sometimes softened
by the night air
where stars shine down
on me.

Come city
lift up your chin
and gaze upward
knowing that you too
have the same stars
singing.

The city never sleeps.

Damage

I know in my bones how beautiful fall is. As long as I can remember, I have felt a sense of satisfaction when the days darkened earlier and the moon seems fuller somehow behind the frame of leafless trees. The famous poet and spiritual nature lover Mary Oliver knows how spectacular fall is. "Look," she exclaims, "the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of lights, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfillment and every pond no matter whats it name is, is nameless now." I know in my bones the glory of fall. I hear its hushed quietness as the leaves fall heavy and pregnant in the wind and collect themselves in all of the corners and edges of our unexpected places.

I used to look forward to the warm cozy nights that wait ahead of us, the holiday season, the chaos, the energy, the cinnamon spices, the scent of wood burning, the gentle sting of cold cheeks when I come in from the cold. I still welcome the announcement of fall but over the past four years this season of color and promise has taken on additional meaning for me. Fall is now a reminder of damage to me. Damage to a friendship and family and loved ones that took place 4 years ago on a cold and damp fall day due to an argument between myself and my sister in law. Angry words said on both sides. Words and accusations that cut until we both bled. Apologies unacceptable. A lifelong friendship ended.

As the days turn colder and the trees darken with reds and bitter orange, I think of the autumn birthdays unacknowledged, the absence of my nieces and nephews at holiday tables, the exclusion at family gatherings, the silence between brothers and sisters. I no longer dwell on the words said in anger or the original things that I was hurt over. These no longer hold any charge and seem trite and meaningless. What I feel now is rejection and sadness and forgiveness and compassion all rolled up into one big ball that is knotted and tied in the center of my heart. My asana practice is filled with wheels and camels. Heart openers for my pain and sadness to come up and get out. It is intense. The strong wavelike feelings always come up but they never ever get out. Instead they feel lodged. Stuck in my throat, constricting my voice. Willingly I enter into counterposes to balance the vulnerable and open hearted backbends. My sadness gets buried in my child's pose. My sadness gets drowned out in seated forward fold. Gently stored with my breath in my belly and pelvis. Shielded by the back of my heart.

What do I do with this sorrow and grief? Do I store it in my body? Do I let it out like a caged animal without a home? Do I ignore it and pretend that it doesn't matter? To deal with this damage over the past four years, I have practiced "metta" or loving kindness. I have practiced anger. I have practiced listening and saying I am sorry. I have practiced forgetting and forgiveness and nonattatchment. None of these practices have gotten rid of the hurt and sadness and rejection and disappointment that reveals itself when I least expect it. None of these practices have repaired the broken pieces of my relationship with my sister in law. None of these practices have stopped the bleeding that I still feel.

As I dress for my morning sadhana, I reach for a familiar and cozy sweater to keep me warm and this simple act reminds me so vividly of my sorrow. I feel the sadness in my bones side by side with the colors of reds and bitter orange. I know that I need to let the disappointment go with the leaves that grow heavy and fall softly to their death. Leaves to be swept around in the wind. To be collected in corners. To be raked into piles and turned over into compost. A natural life cycle that has its own rhythm and cannot be rushed.

Each fall, I relearn that I need to practice letting go. Let go of the disappointment, the clinging to possible future reconciliation, the anger, the bitterness, and the emptiness. Let it all go softly and gently into the cold. Let it be buried in the earth. Let it be released from my bones. I must practice letting go and letting in those that are right in front of me, wanting and needing my love. My dear ones that want to love me as I am right here and now.

In my sorrow, it is my yoga and my poetry that I turn to for answers. In the wise words of Mary Oliver: "Every year, everything I have ever learned in my lifetime leads back to this: the fires and the black river of loss whose other side is salvation, whose meaning none of us will ever know. To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal, to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it, and, when the time comes to let it go, let it go."

In peace and love,
Anne

Our Stories

Matthew and I are moving into our 2nd year of Samadhi Yoga Teacher Training with 15 men and women studying to become Yoga Alliance certified teachers under our guidance. A sacred and big task to say the least. This past weekend we successfuly graduated 20 students who are now teachers. Another sacred and big task accomplished. We are grateful and tired.

Although I am proud of our success with Yoga Teacher Training, I am very aware of the journey or story behind the accomplishment. I consistently try to teach to my students that we are not our accomplishments but we are "our stories" and everybody is a story. As a matter of fact, our theme for this upcoming weekend of Samadhi Yoga Teacher training is "Our Stories."

I love stories. Not the kind you read in a book or see at the movies but the real stories. The life stories, the history stories, the "Oh my God, you are never going to believe what happened to me!" stories. The everyday mundane stories. The stories of my grandparents lives, the stories of my children's day, the stories of my friend's lives and the stories of my students. To me, these stories are what is "real" and what is "true." Each story is someone's experience of the events of their lives. They are not the events themselves. We all experience the same event very differently. We have seen it, heard it, and felt it in our own unique way and the story we tell has more than a bit of ourselves in it.

All of our stories are unique. They mix fact with meaning. Meaning is the root of their power. Stories allow us to see something familiar through new eyes. As yoga teachers, we get the honor and priveledge of witnessing our student's stories, both in their bodies and breath and in their personal sharings of their own lives. We become, in that moment, a guest in someone else's life. The meaning we may draw from someone's story may be different than theirs but no matter. Facts bring us knowledge but stories lead us to wisdom.

Everybody is a story. You, me, our loved ones, people we don't know and people we don't like. Most of our stories have no clear beginnings or endings. This is very differnt than the books we read or the movies we watch. No neat packages, no fairy tale endings.

Real stories take time. Sometimes lots of time. In our fast paced techno society, we have lost that kind of time. We have stopped telling our stories. We have stopped listening to each other and ourselves. Stories take pausing time, stopping time, reflecting time, wondering time. We all need that kind of pausing time. I feel it in my bones that stopping and pausing is absolutely essential for experiencing our lives. To me, the scary thing is it is possible to live your life without experiencing "pausing time."

We are so fortunate as practitioners of yoga and yoga teachers that the contemplative practice of yoga is that sort of "pausing" time. Every time we go to our mat, we have this opportunity to let go of our push, let go of our fast paced lives and cultivate our capacity to watch and listen. We have the opportunity to watch and feel and listen to our own stories unfold.

Life rushes us along and few of us are strong enough to stop on our own but yoga gives us that "stopping" tool. As yoga teachers, our classrooms create that pausing or stopping time for others. On our yoga mats, we get to create our sacred space, we get to know our own bodies and breath. We get to know our own stories. With our own bodies, we get to tell it. With the compassionate witness we continuously create, we get to listen to our stories from a necessary nonjudgmental place. We get to remember that the real world is made up of just such stories.

This practice of yoga, this daily stopping and listening and telling of our stories through our bodies and our breath helps us to understand that although we can hope to put certain events behind us and get on with our living-we will see that certain of life's issues will be with us for as long as we live. We will pass through them again and again. Each time with a new story, each time with a greater understanding until they have become indistinguishable from our blessings and our wisdom.

Stopping, paying attention, listening, cultivating compassion, breathing, being in our body-Yoga teaches us how to live. Not only does yoga teach us living but the yoga mat is a level playing field. Everyone's story matters. The wisdom in the story of the most advanced yogi or powerful person is no greater that the wisdom in the story of the beginning yogi or a person with no power in the material world. What we learn about ourselves as a beginner yoga student can teach us as much as the life of a sage.

Parents know the importance of telling children their own story over and over again so that the child will come to know who they are and where they are from. On our yoga mat,our own personal stories emerge again and again. Stories that we have stored away in our deepest places in our bodies and psyches. According to the nature of yoga, we carry many of our stories in our bodies unread until we have grown the capacity and readiness to read them. When that happens, a physical and emotional release takes place often with newly found openings in our bodies accompanied by a river of tears.

In my own life, the story of myself as a creative being became a reoccuring theme. Thinking of myself as a maker of art had seemingly lied dormant in me since childhood. But not really. Many times as an adult I would hear my inner voice say that she would like to make art. But I had pushed this call for art aside as "frivolous", "self-absorbed" and just plain "ridiculous."
Fortunately as I continuously practiced my yoga and fully relaxed in shavasana day in and day out, I would literaaly see images that begged to be painted. I kept creating these mind paintings over and over again and I would feel in my body as if I was creating the art. I would feel an artistic longing over and over and eventually I came to know that I was a creative being whom need to express this visually. The more I "paused" and "listened", the clearer my own story became.

As we practice, the more we listen and the clearer our stories become. Our true identity, who we are, why we are here, is what emerges in our story.

Our stories are not our outer achievements or what we have acquired or built over a life time. Our story is who we are and not what we have done. It is what we have faced, what we have drawn upon, what we have risked, thought, feared and discovered in the events of our lives. Our true stories are about sex and power, loss and betrayal, courage, faith, lonliness,disappointment, joy, loving and being loved. Our stories tell our uniqueness,-So Ham, So Ham, "I am that I am." Our stories connect us and weave us all together. Tat Vam Asi,-"I am that"

Jai,
Anne

Ahimsa or Becoming Vegetarian

Consider this quote by Swami Kripalu, "To read uplifting books or listen to spiritual discourses is good. But to practice even a little is of the utmost importance. The profound meaning of yoga is only understood by those who study it systematically through personal practice. The day you start to practice, your true progress will begin."

Yesterday, I chose to practice the yama of ahimsa or non-violence. Yesterday I became a vegetarian. Don't get me wrong. This is not a "holier than though" blog entry or a "Though shall not" entry either. This is just one yogi's account of what happened to me when I choose to bring my yoga into my life and off of my mat. This is my account of why I can no longer make the choice to eat meat.

My newfound choice to go vegetarian did not originate out of health concerns or even ethical concerns. My choice originated out of my desire to take my yoga beyond my yoga mat.

I have been practicing a lot of asana lately and although I am deeply appreciative for my physical practice and where it brings me during my daily sadhana, I have become aware lately of the need for more. In some ways I feel as though I am stepping into a new area of growth and yoga for me. I have become acutely aware of how I would like to incorporate the peace and surrender and clarity that I find in my physical practice into all of the other aspects of my life. I originally believed that as long as I was a physical practitioner of yoga, that the rest would take care of itself. That I would naturally become peaceful and anxiety free. And I must admit I have seen significant changes in how I navigate my self through this world but I am also aware of the need for more inner peace, less reactive ways, less judgementalness of self and others, etc.

So, how do I do this? How do I really begin to let the yoga guide me as I swim my way through housework and mommying and paying bills and relationships with family and friends? How do I live my yoga? At first it overwhelmed me to think about it but lately it does not feel so overwhelming and I credit this to the seated meditations I have been regularly incorporating into my days. 5 minutes a day of dropping into my breath above and beyond my regular asana practice.

Through meditation, I have had my wiser self tell me to turn to the yamas and niyamas of yoga and begin there. Begin to incorporate one yama or niyama into my life. Just choose one as trying to practice all ten would be overwhelming. Pick one and practice it daily. (This is also an assignment I gave to my yoga teacher training class.) Yama translates to "restraints" or "things to avoid."

So I chose to study and practice the first Yama of yoga which is Ahimsa. Ahimsa translates to non-violence. According to yogic scripture, when one practices non-violence, one refrains from causing distress in thought, word, or deed to any living creature. Non-violence is the root of all other ethical precepts.

Well, imagine my surprise when, on my first day of practicing ahimsa, I go to my church and the service is on becoming a vegetarian and how animal do suffer. The service explains how we can do our part to help stop the endless suffering that happens to animals on our planet because of our desire for meat and animal products. I won't go into the details although I will say that the service was not at all gory or accusatory and that it was beautifully done. (For more information on my church go to www.uuse.org. )

So, anyways, here I am. At the beginning of my ahimsa and vegetarian journey and I would like to add that this is one of the first times I have made a choice about diet that doesn't have do with what is best for "body most beautiful." This is a conscious decision. Certainly not the decision I thought I would put into my day. But it is a definite first step in my decision to live my yoga and live in a way that is cruelty free and non-violent. I desire to live in a way that brings inner peace and where violence is not the basis for what I say, think and do.

In the words of metta,

"May all beings be free from peace and suffering."

Namaste,
Anne

Final Week

Final Week reflections

Last week I found myself writing about “death” and how this showed up in my yoga practice. Interestingly enough and without intention, I find myself thinking about aliveness this week and connection to the divine. Yoga teaches that we must surrender to a higher principle in order to find peace and experience our inborn divinity. Ishvara-Pranidhana means to dedicate one’s every thought, word and deed to the Lord and surrender them at his or her feet with total faith.

Why surrender to God? What do I know about that? I am not even a person who embraces a traditional judeo/Christian God. Neither do I embrace any Eastern Gods. However as a Unitarian Universalist, which is fortunately a generous liberal religion and encourages spiritual exploration, I find that I am not an atheist either. I find that I do believe in an eternal and supreme force. I do believe we are all connected and that we are all good inside. I believe we are all connected to our ancestors and our ancestors’ ancestors and to the people of our future. I do believe in something bigger than myself. I believe in the concept and power of love. I believe that we are more that our physical bodies and we are more than our thoughts. At the same time, I believe you can reduce me down to blood and bone and my essence can be found there.

My essence:

My essence was felt in New York City this weekend where I went for a visit with my nine year old daughter and my good friend. (Thank you to Miss Kimberly.) This time of year, as the evenings get darker a little bit earlier and earlier each day, I find myself becoming increasingly dark and lonely and somewhat unsettled. Not sure of what is to come. Interestingly enough, these dark feelings were shed in the energy and life of downtown New York.

The three of us arrived by train early Saturday morning and were met by the smells of exhaust and horse urine but the sun was also shining and the promise of something beautiful and pure rode on the backs of the occasional crisp breeze. Looking up at the ceiling of Grand Central Station is indeed as magnificent as any chapel.

On this spectacular shining day, New York City was alive and teeming with people. The thousands of people we saw were busy and beautiful and surprisingly friendly. We got many smiles, had doors opened and many people made small talk with us on Saturday. The thousands of people we observed and interacted with this weekend reminded me that people are basically kind and good. The “vibe” of New York was alive and electric and it was exciting to be a part of it. We did have some small setbacks, mostly an American Girl Doll whose leg fell off, but we managed to get it bandaged up and go on with our day and not let a broken doll leg get us down.

In the busyness and electricity of New York, I felt amazingly calm and centered inside. I felt a connection to this vibrant place and to all the people and dogs (small) and buildings. I felt an awareness of a presence much greater than the city and of which I was a small, but nether the less, inherent part of. I felt a belief in all that is good and kind. I felt no need to be any greater than I already am. I felt extreme gratitude. I felt peace and I felt alive. I felt there was purpose and order in this world much larger than my own and my true nature was to surrender and trust.

My all day walk of 24 New York City blocks felt like a walking meditation of life. With each step I became less weary and more clear and grateful to be alive.

I think about teaching this Saturday for the first time in 2 months and hope to bring my own “vibe” to my teaching. My own vibe in not mine alone but a shared vibe of feeling alive and connected to earth and grass and cement and buildings and people and passion. A vibe where we trust that we will get to where we need to be or even better, trust that we are exactly where we need to be in this moment if we allow ourselves to drop in and be present. A vibe where we embrace our own life force in our bones and blood and breath and feel a connection to all beings. An understanding of something so kind and magnificent that it can’t be intellectualized, only understood from somewhere deep and still inside. I surrender to God(or Goddess) and trust the process.

Jai,
Anne

p.s.- Many thank you’s over the past 8 weeks especially to: Dawn-how did I get by before you? Matt- for talking me into the pop up camper.. Mom-for taking risks. Tracey and Gymm-for being there in all of my pinches and for letting me wallow. Natalie-for being real. Nikki-for being my new friend. Eve and Jaime-for nourishing my family with yummy meals during YTT. Pam-for coming back into my life. Stacy-for bringing beauty and organization into my home. Helen and Nil-for reconnecting. Lisa P.-for cutting off all my hair. Kim G.-for showing up at the right moment. Cynthia-for being you and following your dreams. Jeff and Temple-morning practice.

Child's Pose-Poem by Anne

My yoga brings out my muse. I have been facinated with Garbasana or "Child's pose." My child's pose feels so sacred to me lately.


Child's Pose

Sometimes
I have to stop myself.
I wanna get down
On my hands and knees
Bowing to the simple ground.
Scooping up dirt in my fingers.
Spreading the earth's moisture
On my body.
Forehead pressed down
Into damp darkness
And Breathing
Yes
And Breathing.
Juicy alive breath.
Connecting
Deep down
To all beings
That have ever
Bowed to this ground.

Reflections on my 6th week

Today was a humid and overcast morning. However, it was still a morning that promised the possibility of sunshine. The early morning humidity promised a day of heat and stickiness. Today is a late summer morning and I am aware that cooler fall mornings are soon to come. Today I take in the familiar morning sounds I have become accustomed to as I practice my yoga in my studio; the humming of the exhaust fan from the restaurant downstairs, the sounds of a delivery truck coming and going.

As I prepare myself to surrender into shavasana or relaxation at the end of my 6:00 a.m. Ashtanga yoga class this morning, I hear the teacher say, “Now lay on your back, preparing yourself for corpse pose. You are now entering into the death of your practice.”

In that moment, on my mat- I think about this. “Death.” For me, the word “death” is a word that brings up fear or sadness or even a lack of feeling. A numbing. I don’t like to think about death, my own or anybody else’s. It scares me.

The words of the yoga teacher this morning also brought me right back to when I was learning to be a yoga teacher. We learned that relaxation pose was often called “corpse” pose and was representative of our own death. Eventually, an enlightened yogi is not afraid of his or her own death. I had forgotten this completely but now I was reminded. Every time we practice yoga and end our yoga session with corpse pose, we are entering into a small death.

Relaxation pose feels wonderful as does letting my practice come to completion. To let go of all efforts in my body and my thoughts feels so freeing and liberating. It amazes me that I used to resist relaxation pose. I used to think of it as a big waste of time. Now that I look forward to it and have completely embraced it, I think I should examine why. Maybe if I contemplate the beauty and sacredness I consistently feel in the “corpse pose” that I do almost every day, I will be able to bring in acceptance of “death” into my own life.

Often in corpse pose, I find myself in the most peaceful place of my day and am able to balance off my anxious self. In corpse pose, I almost always embrace that “everything will truly be ok.” I allow myself to integrate all of my efforts and experiences (good or bad) in my yoga practice. I come to a place of complete acceptance of what is. Today when the teachers suggested that we enter into the death of our practice, I surmised that this is what real death is like. Peace.

I think about a personal state of peace a lot, most likely because I am often not in a peaceful place. Actually, I have not been in a peaceful place on a regular basis for most of my adult life. As I struggle with my anxieties and daily happiness, I find myself repeating patterns and circles that seem impossible to get out of. I consistently feel that life is spinning too fast and that I am caught whirling in its orbit. I almost always feel that there is too much for me to do and what I do accomplish is only about ½ good enough. I am pretty sure this could be a loose interpretation of the definition of “overwhelmed.” I am also pretty sure that being consistently overwhelmed can lead to overall unhappiness and/or depression. I am pretty sure that I am clinging to wanting to become more or better at everything I do. I must admit I am human and “attached” to the physical.

It was interesting this morning to hear the word “death” at my yoga class, to be reminded of an essential teaching of yoga that I had long forgotten and to have a teacher ask me to willingly go into my death and let something that I cling to die. Yes, I do cling to my physical practice.

What else do I cling to? I cling to feeling that there is too much to do. I cling to rushing around and trying to do everything. I cling to having unrealistic expectations about my abilities.

What would it feel like to bury my chaotic pace and self- judgmental voice forever? What would it be like to kill my attachment to outcome, to put my self-criticism to death? Would I be a different person? Would I fall apart and never accomplish anything? Would I know happiness? Would my true self have more space to flourish?

As I contemplate the need for “death” in my present life, I am comforted by these words from the sage, Sutta Nipata:

“The one who is very attached to the cave of the body, that one finds detachment very difficult. Those who constantly crave for pleasure are hard to liberate and certainly cannot be liberated by others, only themselves. Sometimes it is only death that brings a realization of endings, and then the sensual person, deeply immersed in the body, will shout: “What will happen to me after death?”

The way toward liberation is to train your self to live in the present without wanting to become anything. Give up becoming this or that, live without cravings, and experience this present moment with full attention. Then you will not cringe at death or seek repeated birth.”

As I read and reread these words, I realize that I am a sensual person wanting to be fully present and alive in this lifetime. I take comfort in the words of Sutta Nipata and as always I remember to tell myself that, “I am doing a great job.”

Reflections on my 4th and 5th week

Reflections on my fourth and fifth week of not teaching

This has been the week of a “good cry ”for me. Totally unexpected –yet it makes sense. Totally unexpected, I have found myself crying in my yoga practice. I am comforted by knowing that I am not the only one who is crying. In some ways, our whole nation is crying. Crying for the victims of Katrina. Crying for the devastation and power of Mother Nature. Crying for the unfairness of poverty and the distrust of those who are our leaders. Many are still crying for 9/11 and the painful losses of loved ones that still hurts and leaves holes and gaps in their every day lives.

As a country, I felt we are all tired this week. I felt it when I looked at the prices on the gas pumps, when I happened to catch the news, when I looked around at all of our yoga students and saw the tight shoulders and necks and jaws. I felt as if we are all feeling vulnerability and rawness.

To me, crying is not comfortable territory. I know that it is a wonderful release and even benefit from the releases that my infrequent crying jags can bring on, but still, I don’t cry often or easily. I almost never cry at a movie or cry because someone else is sad even though I might feel their sadness. As a child, I remember wanting to cry a lot but I never would. Instead I would suffocate the cries deep in my throat. It is surely not a coincidence that during my childhood, I many times came down with strep throat.

As an adult, I don’t usually cry but, this week I did and I attribute it to the amount of really good yoga I have been doing on my time off . I not only attribute the conditions for me to cry to come from the yoga but also from being tired and vulnerable and uncertain about our world. I attribute the conditions for crying to come from being brought outside of my comfortable box.

For the past 5 weeks I have been doing a lot of yoga. Every day. On great days, I practice more than once. I have been allowing myself to sink into my practice, not think about any thing other than the moment and the breath I am taking in that moment. My yoga time has become sacred and uniquely mine again. I feel open and truthful to myself.

When the tears came this week in a very gentle seated wide angle forward fold, I knew they were tears of release. As a yogi and a yoga teacher, I am no stranger to the benefits of tears in a yoga practice. But even with that first hand knowledge, I still wanted to push them away and shut them off and I knew in that moment that I had the power to do so. Fortunately I resisted that first urge and actually had a brief conversation with my “witness”, that part of me that observes myself with out judgement. The witness was very direct. She told me, “Go with the crying. See where it brings you. Do not go into fear or on automatic pilot.”

So I did just that. I cried and did yoga and cried some more. I felt waves of sadness and disappointment so intensely. At some point I realized that I was also crying for the girl that I was and the woman that I am who won’t let her feelings out and feels overly responsible for having to have the appearance of holding it all together. I cried for the girl and woman who does not allow others to comfort her. I felt sadness and an understanding of my self all in the same moment.

After I was done crying, I felt great. I had the best yoga practice I could remember and even got into some postures in a way that I had never experienced before. Following this practice of crying and yoga, I wiped my tears off and immediately taught a 2 hour hot sweaty yoga class to the Yoga Teacher Training(YTT) Students. Teaching felt so right and so clean and easy.

I look out at the world and I see how beautiful the mornings are this time of year in New England. How grateful I am for my morning walks and yoga. My morning practice begins in darkness and ends in the most glorious light of the day. For that I am truly blessed.

Reflections on my 3rd week

Artwork by Anne - August 2005

Swami Kripalu said, " The highest form of spiritual practice is self-observation without judgement. "These days, those words of Guruji are my mantra.

It is my third week of not teaching yoga and my focus has shifted from my own yoga practice and being a studio owner to the many seemingly small but very necessary details and responsibilities of preparing my children for going back to school. This Thursday was the big day for my 8 and 6 year old with the event of the first day of school. In my opinion, Manchester Public Schools opened on an almost cruel early date. Both of my children are entering into milestone years. My son entered first grade ( his first full day of school) and my daughter entered 4th grade, but more significantly, she entered a new school.

This was the week of school clothes shopping. This was the week of running around and buying all the school supplies that various letters from teachers, which arrived in our mailbox in early August, have required of us parents to get by the first day of school. One letter stated the following items should be had by the first day: 5 different colored pocketed folders (red, blue, green, orange, and purple), 2 glue sticks, a box of #2 pencil, a box of blue or black pens, left-handed scissors, 1 laminated folder ( different in color from the above 5 folders), a ruler with both inches and centimeters, 4 high lighters, a lunch box, a back pack without wheels, shoes that are not open in the toes and have backs on the heels,. In addition to all of this, I shopped for lunch necessities: plastic sandwich size baggies for lunches, juice boxes and snacks for lunches. This was also the week of filling out emergency fact forms. Each kid had approximately 12 pages of information and all was due by the next day. I needed to be able to have at least 2 emergency contacts for each child. Not only do I need to know the designated emergency contacts phone number and address, but this year they also asked for cell phone numbers and dates of birth for each contact person. This was the week of going to our pediatrician and having him fill out paperwork for an inhaler to be used if necessary. This was the week where I filled out paper work okaying Tylenol or Ibuprofrin if my kid has a headache with no other symptoms. This was the week of ensuring that each of my children has signed the papers stating that he or she will not bring a knife or gun or weapon of any kind to school. This was the week where both children had to have their Governor's reading list brought into school showing all the different books they have read over the summer. (At least 20 is
recommended.) My 8 year old also had to turn in 2 papers for 10 percent of her first marking English grade. This was the week of back to school haircuts. This was the week where my 8 year old is very unsure about her new school and needs a lot of hugs and understanding.

In addition, I have agreed to volunteer at the library one day per week. I have been dutiful and put down in writing on my kitchen calendar all of the important meetings that I must attend in early September: First grade night, 4th grade night, Highland Park back to school BBQ and Odyssey Parents Meeting.

This was the week where both of my children and myself came down with strep throat. This required 3 visits to the doctors on my family's part and 2 visits to the pharmacy.

Did I mention that I also bought a new used car this week as the one we have is on the outs. It needs to be jumped each time before you start it. With 170,000 miles on it, I guess I am due. So on top of all the back to school craziness, I shopped for and found a new but used Suburu Forrester that will be adequate for driving my children to and from school this year.

Now I know for many mothers, the first week of school is a much welcomed time. A week when our schedules and routines can be put back into place. I know that for me, the summer has had its own variety of stresses as I juggled ways to have my 8 and 6 year old watched (teen age baby sitters, day camps, etc. ) so that I could get into the studio and actually do some work.However, even with the baby sitting issues complicating my summers, I still find the week of my kids going back to school more daunting. This is the week that my harsh and judgmental voices grow loud. This is the week where I strive to be the "perfect mom" with the "perfect children." This is the week I am crazy.

Being a mother can be very vulnerable and many times we feel on
display. I find the first few days of school to be like that. I feel as
if all of my shortcomings are hanging out there for all of society to see. Here is how my brain works: If I get my child late to school, that shows that I am disorganized. If I have too much junk in my child's lunch box, that shows that I am neglectful, if my children don't have their sneakers on for their designated gym day, that shows that I am too busy, etc. If I don't have a clean house and the most delicious wholesome dinners when my children arrive home from school, they will be deprived. This list goes on and on. I even found myself considering what I would wear on the first day of school as I picked my children up at their schools. To let you know how ridiculous this is, consider that at Emily's school, I don't even get out of the car. We pick up our children in a circle formation of cars and stepping out of the car is not even allowed. Fortunately, this was the thing that made me realize that I was getting crazy. As I contemplated whether I should wear a skirt or a pair of flowy linen pants, I had a shift in my brain and body take place. In that moment of contemplating what the perfect mother should wear, I was able to step outside of that and observe from a place of absolute compassion. I could see that I was overwhelmed and needed to stop. I was able to observe that this women who was getting so crazy needed not to be judged any further. I was able to cultivate what yoga calls the "witness consciousness" In that moment I was able to observe that I needed to stop and take care of my self.

So that is what I did. I took 20 minutes and had a cup of tea. I picked up a book that I was reading for enjoyment and enjoyed it. I showered myself with praise for discovering that I was being hard and impossible and overly demanding on myself. I even laughed at my "craziness" and found it endearing. When I finally did go to pick up my kids that day, I felt much more at ease with the world and was able to be much more present for my children when they told me the high points and the low points of their first day. I think I saw some other moms dressed in their own perfect first day outfits and i silently sent them some compassion without judgement.

Swami Kripalu said," The highest form of spiritual practice is self observation without judgement."

I remember the first time I heard these words. I was taking one of my very first Kripalu classes at South Windsor Yoga Studio. Sydney, the teacher, had just returned from a workshop at Kripalu and read this statement at the beginning of class and asked each of us to think about this as we practiced our yoga that evening. I don't recall thinking very much about this statement on that particular evening but I do know that those words have stuck with me since and during difficult periods of my life become my mantra. These are the words that take away my craziness and harsh judgements that still surface from time to time, no matter how much I practice asana.

There have been many periods in the last 7 years where I could not quite wrap my brain around what Swami Kripalu meant by these words but I believe that these kind and intelligent words have stuck with me and perhaps have even been grooved somewhere in my brain matter because they were and still are absolutely crucial for me to embrace and know in every way. During that beginner yoga class seven years ago, I had no idea the impact these words would have on me and on my own spiritual journey.

During that yoga class, where I first heard Guriji's words, I must look back and take some credit for getting parts of his message. I got that it was important to not be harsh or judgmental as I learned something new. I got why it would be necessary to be non judgmental on a thinking level but I never really understood it on a feeling level. The reason for this lack of knowledge was pretty basic- I had not yet been able to turn off that part of my mind that observes and speaks from the harsh critical eye. I had not yet felt the reality of no self-judgments or pure self acceptance on a physical level. Nor was I sure that I really wanted to.

As I think about those early days of yoga, I remember how difficult it was to actually get to a yoga class. I was lucky if I could get in a yoga class once a week. Forget about doing it on my own at home. Who had the privacy? Who had the time? I was already pretty maxed out on the time I had to devote to myself as it was being filled with a necessary and frugal hour of aerobic exercise per day. I had little babies and was a stay at home mom overly and was responsible for taking care of everybody. I made it my personal challenge to meet everyone else's needs before my own. After all, isn't that what a good mother would do? That's what my critical voices told me. By the time Matthew got home from work each evening at 5:30 PM, I could not deny how tired I was.

Maybe because of this tiredness and self imposed drudgery, I was not interested in philosophizing or psychologizing the yoga I was beginning to learn. Instead I wanted to "get on" with the class that had taken so much effort for me to get to. I desired to see and be with wherever the teacher was going to take us for that one hour and a half in my body. I knew that by the time I got down on my mat into shavasana, I would feel lighter, all of the weeks accumulated self imposed stress and fatigue would have melted away and I would feel in touch with my body and a deeper sense of self that for a few precious minutes would not be so taken over by my "have to be the best mommy" self. In that short span of months that I had been learning and practicing yoga, I had already gained the knowledge that yoga was a therapy that I needed desperately.

Little did I know during that beginning phase of discovering yoga that by allowing myself to let go into that space of "wherever the yoga was going to lead me that evening " was exactly the right frame of body and mind for the exploration of Swami Kripalu's words. As a parent, I must learn to also let go and follow where parenting will lead me without focusing on outcome and achievement. Find the space of listening to intuition and just being."

It is now 7 years later and I still practice yoga. I have come to love my yoga practice. The daily or almost daily return to my yoga mat is a space where I learn first hand about humility, patience, joy, and suffering. My mat is a place where I observe myself without regard for outcome or accomplishment. My mat is a place where I practice being compassionate to myself no matter how I show up at the mat. I come to the mat as myself and don't deny whatever I am feeling that day. Whether I am feeling tired, overwhelmed, inadequate, joyful, passionate, sexy, loving, hateful, angry. It is all ok. My yoga mat is a sacred space for me to observe myself without getting tangled up in what I discover. I observe from a place of compassion and let each ujaii breath move me into the next ujaii breath no matter what and by shavasana, I feel just as I did during those very first yoga classes. Cleansed and in touch with my true self. I detatch from my emotional state without denying my feelings. Embracing all of the different aspects of myself and all of the different aspects of this universe. I instinctively know that all is right in my world and there is an order to the universe which is bigger than me but i am inherently a part of.

"The highest form of spiritual practice is self observation without judgement." Again these words ring out to me over and over again in my daily life. What happens when one observes themselves without judgement? I used to believe that if I took the self judgement and even the harsh self critical voice out of my life, that my shortcomings and fears would be on display. As I write down my experience of the past week I validate that I still have many fears, that even though I have a strong and consistent spiritual practice, I oftentimes still feel vulnerable as a women and as a mother. That in these times of fear and vulnerability, I sometimes try to impose strong controls on myself and reinforce these controls with self judgementalness that is both subtle and not so subtle. But it is Swami Kripalu's words that help me turn the corner towards my true self. It is the practice of non-judging and self acceptance that brings me back into my body and ultimately into a space of contentment.

My yoga practice has been instrumental in deconstructing my need to impose self critical control on my life. There is something very gentle and freeing about the abililty to stand outside of yourself and witness the
place you are in right now without judgement. This is is a
practice. Something that has to be returned to over and over again. Starts and stops and obstacles along the way to creating the witness to the crazy thoughts, the paranoia, the harshness and sadness of our self talk without judging ourselves for being in this dark and what we might ignorantly consider an unenlightened place. When we step into a place of observing ourselves without judging, the antidote to this self-hate begins to grow. This antidote is compassion. When looking through the lenses of clarity, the lenses without the cloudiness of self critisicm, The words of Buddha become clear. Compassion is the way to end our own suffering.

Reflections on my 2nd week

I have only been off from teaching for two weeks yet in some ways it feels much longer. I have experienced a gamut of feelings about myself including incredible euphoria for my new found freedom and feelings of intense self doubt wondering if any one will ever again take my yoga classes once I return.

Thankfully, not all of my mind space has been occupied with the teachings of yoga as I planned last week for mine and Matthew’s renewal of our wedding vows that took place 16 years ago. Actually, we wrote new vows as we realized that the vows we originally spoke to each other were never a personal reflection of what we felt for each other. To be fair to the original vows, at 21 and 22 years of age, I don’t think we really knew what we felt for each other or who we were to become together.

This is what I learned last week:

I am so fortunate to have been able to take time out of my life to reflect on my relationship with Matthew and what is really precious.

I am so fortunate to have been able to share my love for the most important people in my life with friends and family at our community and feel safe and supported.

I am so fortunate to have a partner who I respect and love without hesitation.

Once again, I learn the value of kind words and genuine hugs.

Once again, I learn the value of letting myself feel all the wide array of human feelings including unconditional love and vulnerability.

As fall approaches but is still far enough away, August is a month to connect with the beauty of summer, the beaches, the warm delicious air, the cooler evenings, the taste of peaches. Discover dragonflies, paint a picture. Let your spirit soar. Let yourself feel love. Tell someone you love how much they mean to you. Be open. Be sensitive. To be sensitive is to be alive.

Reflections on my first Week Off from Teaching yoga

As some of you may know, I have decided to take 8 weeks off from teaching my regularly scheduled classes. The arrival of this decision was surprising, even to me. I am not injured or over tired or in any way feeling burnt out. As a matter of fact, I love teaching yoga. Lately, I am particularly passionate about my teaching as I incorporate the advanced pranayama and breath retention techniques that I learned from Yoganand at Kripalu this summer. Teaching yoga is my passion and affords me so many opportunities to connect with others, to make a difference, to be creative and to be alive. I like to believe that my best qualities come out when I am teaching.

Even with all of these wonderful reasons, a small but important voice inside of me has been speaking up a lot lately about slowing down, about taking time for change and growth and transformation. As usual, this wise internal voice rears her head during my own yoga practice. As usual, this voice is suggesting that I do something that is out of character for me and uncomfortable. Take time off from my responsibilities, from the way I define myself, from something that I am comfortable with? At first, taking time off from teaching my 10 classes per week seems ridiculous, self absorbed, irresponsible, and financially not appropriate. But, with most things that are right for me, my initial response is the fear response. Thank God, through yoga, I now realize that where there is fear, there is a path to be followed.

This is my first week of my 8week sabbatical. As a matter of fact, as I write this, it is just my second day. Already, I have taken 3 amazing yoga classes from 3 very different and talented teachers all in my own studio space. This is unheard of for me. I have had stimulating conversations with fellow students and teachers. (Also difficult to do when you are teaching all the time.) I have opened and filed my mail 2 weeks worth of mail and returned phone calls and emails and have begun the fall schedule and designed 2 newspaper ads. Wow!

In addition to all of the yoga and completion of tasks, I have had the space to think. Space that is usually filled with planning my next class or the babysitting arrangements so I can teach has been opened up. Without intending to, my thoughts keep gravitating to Samadhi Yoga Studio and where it’s been and where it’s going. What is its mission? What’s its purpose?

As I look around at the faces in the studio these days, I only see a handful of students that have been here since the beginning (I love each and every one.) Among these strangers and newer acquaintances, it occurs to me that these people don’t know why the studio was developed or its history or even what it was like to maybe not have had a studio space to go to that is open 7 days per week and filled with competent educated teachers eager to bring to their community what they are passionate about. Whether it is yoga, dancekinetics, drumming, chanting, singing bowls, meditation, etc- These teachers are passionate and share what they love for no guarantees on enrollment and in the big picture of things, not a lot of money.

On September 12, it will be the 4 year birthday of Samadhi Yoga Studio and I find myself reminiscing about when the seeds of growing a yoga studio began for me. I had just started teaching and was really digging yoga. I was observing how exciting and life changing yoga was. Not just for me but also for the people I was teaching to as well. We would gather after class and comment to each other about what great stuff this yoga was. A typical comment would be, “Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t realize how great this yoga is.”

I wanted to share the yoga with everyone. I had been to New York and L.A. and witnessed how readily available and ever present yoga was in these places. I thought to myself, “Why couldn’t we have something like that in this area? Why couldn’t we have a grass roots yoga community that was affordable, where good yoga was offered every day? Couldn’t my community have and deserve readily available yoga every day? Yoga where you could get sweaty (my personal favorite) and yoga where a beginner would feel comfortable as well.

It was personally important to me that the yoga studio be located in Manchester even though I was teaching in Glastonbury and realized that because of higher income levels, Glastonbury might be the wiser choice for beginning a yoga studio.

But I am a Manchester girl since kindergarten and felt how desperately we needed alternative and healthy places in our town. It was important to me that the yoga studio not be near the mall. With a few nice mom and pop shops such as Harvest and Café on Main and Natural Rythyms- Downtown Manchester seemed like a good idea.

5 years later, I look back at some of the hardships- I opened with a business partner and that didn’t work out. I opened 5 days after September 11th. Family members that didn’t and still don’t understand why I, as a mother, would open a studio.
I think of the financial hardships, the many times when I don’t take a pay check. Slow times. Yoga classes where nobody shows up. I think of the teachers who moved on to bigger studios. I think of the teachers who left feeling angry or dissatisfied.

The most recent hardship-the violence on Main Street so close to our studio.

I also think about the victories. Over 30 of our students have gone on to become yoga teachers. Not only attending our own teacher training, but teacher trainings all over the world. 5 of my students have even opened their own yoga studios and become my direct competitors.

I think about the students that have met in our yoga classes and gotten married. I think of the students who have formed lasting friendships. I recall the students who have transformed their bodies and leave the classes beautiful and glowing. I think of the student who told me that yoga made her get out of an abusive marriage. I think of the student who told us that yoga was keeping her from getting high. I think of the student who was able to give up Prozac and another student who was able to get off their high blood pressure medicine. I think of all the students who have had success quitting smoking or living healthier. These are real stories and the stories of a community that is thriving and growing.


Recently someone asked us not to do announcements during their yoga time. They had placed this seemingly simple request in our suggestion box located in the hallway when you first enter. Upon reading this particular entry, I have to admit that it made me instantly furious and unappreciated. I was thinking, “Well how else do we let you know about Jaime’s drumming and Natalie’s Dancekinetics and Matthew and Kirstii’s chanting?” How else do we get these things that out there?” Not everyone has email, not everyone reads bulletin boards. We are not a big retail business chain able to afford big marketing campaigns. We are a dedicated group of teachers trying to spread what we love. We are hoping some of our students will show up. We are trying to stay in business.

Once I let my anger run its course and I want to add that it was very short lived, I had a deeper understanding of my responsibility. I was asking for feedback after all. I realized that this person just didn’t understand that we are more than a place that you come to take a yoga class. We are trying to grow and reach out and bring this life transforming vehicle of yoga to as many people in this area as we can.

I am very proud of our small and growing yoga community. I look around and I see more new faces and less familiar ones. This is a sign of change. One that I am learning to accept and even embrace. When things bother me, I realize it is my job to educate and show what community is all about.

I feel very fortunate as I write this. As I move into my 8 week hiatus, I realize that not only am I the creator of my yoga community and my dreams but I am part of something that is bigger than myself. I look forward to all the yoga I will be taking in my own yoga space over the next two months. I am learning that it is ok and even right to enjoy your own dreams when they are coming true.


Namaste,


Anne
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