With Thanksgiving looming so close, I am both tenderly and painfully aware of those loved ones who are not at my table. Some because they live far away, some because they have passed on and some because of old hurts that have not yet mended. Recently I came upon a meditation which honors the connectedness we have to all human beings. This week, I am guiding this meditation during shavasana in all of my classes. It could also be done in comfortable seated pose.
I offer this meditation to all of us who desire to honor their relationships-past, present and future.
"The breath connects us to all those who have come before us, all those who share this planet with us in this moment, and all those who will come after us. Use the simple act of breathing to remind yourself of this connection.
Bring to mind a person who is nearby, physically. Someone who is sharing this very room, or home, with you. As you inhale, take in their physical presence. As you exhale, send them awareness and appreciation.
Bring to mind a person who is close to your heart, but far from you. As you inhale, bring them to mind. As you exhale, send them love and support.
Bring to mind a person who is suffering. As you inhale, breathe in awareness of their suffering, and as you exhale, send them compassion and understanding.
Bring to mind an ancestor, a predecessor-someone whose very life has made your present experience possible. As you inhale, take in the meaning of their life, and as you exhale, send them gratitude.
Bring to mind all those who will come after you. As you inhale, experience the beauty of your own life. As you exhale, send them the fruits of your life, and hope for the future. "
Namaste.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Running
"If you bring forth what is inside you, what you bring forth will save you. If you don't bring forth what is inside you, what you don't bring forth will destroy you."
Jesus of Nazareth
The Gospel of Thomas
Today I began running again. It has been almost a 2 month hiatus. I stopped running when I began the 108 day yoga practice. At 5:30am every weekday morning I have made a committment to meet my running buddy in front of the studio and run for approximately 3 miles. Sometimes we will do a little more, sometimes a little less. I must confess that I was a bit worried that I would not be able to run 3 miles. My running partner, ever patient, slowed down her pace for me this morning and the run was just fine. Actually it felt awesome. I need to sweat like I did this morning every day. I need my heart to pump and my blood to circulate from aerobic activity or else I get unbearable to be around. I feel sluggish and just not "right."
Today was a gift, to run again in the dark with my friend. To complete the run and actually feel great (although a little sore in the hip flexers). I walked in my studio a little after 6 am ready to do some yoga and I was quite surprised by my yoga practice. First of all, I never did quite drop into my practice all the way. I remained on the edge. My mind couldn't settle. Instead I got angry, really angry. I got angry with one of my friends for something that I thought I had let go of and come to an understanding about. This is one of those situations where instead of confronting the person, you decide to let it go and just accept that this friend has a shortcoming in a certain area and it is best just to avoid interacting with her in a certain way. In this case, combining friendship and business is just not a good idea. We have bumbled throught it unsuccessfully for over 5 years and instead of being resentful, I had made a decision to just not interact with her anymore on a business level.
This blog entry is not about her. She wasn't even with me this morning. I haven't spoken to her in a couple of weeks. She is a wonderful person and I have no desire to alter our friendship in any way. She has some areas in her life where she could mature. We all do. This blog entry is not about her but about me. Why does the running bring up these emotions for me? This is not the first time. I have noticed this before. It stirs up my dark side. It stirs up the ugliness, the pettiness, the old hurts, and the unworthiness. I have heard it referred to as a "pot of self loathing. " We all have one. It is a pot that we must bear witness to when it tips over and spill through our consciousness. We may not recognize it at first because it is both guilded with compensatory feelings such as superiority, arrogance, anger and judgement and it's camouflaged pretty well with worldly attatchments such as youth and health and success and pleasure. But woe to the person whose pot of self-loathing is struck by an outside event like a rejection or a failure or a loss or disease. These events cause the camouflage to disappear or the guilding to get scratched, exposing the darkest imaginable feelings inside. This morning, during yoga, my pot tipped over and spilled into my consciousness.
I believe that we all have this pot. If our parenting was really really good, making us feel really really loved and welcomed on this earth- then we may have just a little pot that leaks out just a little self-judgement, unworthiness, or feelings of imperfections. Our pot probably doesn't give us too much trouble. But if we got the parenting that most of us got, a parenting with large amounts of critiscism and shame in it, we grow up with a large pot where self-loathing, and self-negation drip from our hearts.( I am not blaming the parents here-they did not know better. I believe this was a generational approach to parenting.) When this pot tips over, it fills our self talk with words sounding like mine this morning.
Why does the running stir this up for me? Is this good or bad? My yoga wisdom tells me that when this post of self-loathing pot tips over, it is important to stay present. Feel it spill into my body and my consciousness. Feel its tightness in my throat and its heavyness in my belly. Speak its words and cry its tears. Let all that sewage spill out and then I will feel lighter, cleansed, more peaceful.
Will I give up running even though I absolutely adore and crave how it makes my body feel? I will not. I understand the pot of self-loathing will exist whether I run or not. It will fill again and spill again and again until it's emptied out, I die or I smash it. My yoga tell me that the easiest way to get rid of it is to smash it and destroy it. The only way I can do this is to love myself unconditionally. This will smash the pot into tiny shards and the self-loathing inside will evaporate. How do I love myself unconditionally when there is a pot of self-loathing inside? I must start by loving myself for having it and then go on from there.
Jesus of Nazareth
The Gospel of Thomas
Today I began running again. It has been almost a 2 month hiatus. I stopped running when I began the 108 day yoga practice. At 5:30am every weekday morning I have made a committment to meet my running buddy in front of the studio and run for approximately 3 miles. Sometimes we will do a little more, sometimes a little less. I must confess that I was a bit worried that I would not be able to run 3 miles. My running partner, ever patient, slowed down her pace for me this morning and the run was just fine. Actually it felt awesome. I need to sweat like I did this morning every day. I need my heart to pump and my blood to circulate from aerobic activity or else I get unbearable to be around. I feel sluggish and just not "right."
Today was a gift, to run again in the dark with my friend. To complete the run and actually feel great (although a little sore in the hip flexers). I walked in my studio a little after 6 am ready to do some yoga and I was quite surprised by my yoga practice. First of all, I never did quite drop into my practice all the way. I remained on the edge. My mind couldn't settle. Instead I got angry, really angry. I got angry with one of my friends for something that I thought I had let go of and come to an understanding about. This is one of those situations where instead of confronting the person, you decide to let it go and just accept that this friend has a shortcoming in a certain area and it is best just to avoid interacting with her in a certain way. In this case, combining friendship and business is just not a good idea. We have bumbled throught it unsuccessfully for over 5 years and instead of being resentful, I had made a decision to just not interact with her anymore on a business level.
This blog entry is not about her. She wasn't even with me this morning. I haven't spoken to her in a couple of weeks. She is a wonderful person and I have no desire to alter our friendship in any way. She has some areas in her life where she could mature. We all do. This blog entry is not about her but about me. Why does the running bring up these emotions for me? This is not the first time. I have noticed this before. It stirs up my dark side. It stirs up the ugliness, the pettiness, the old hurts, and the unworthiness. I have heard it referred to as a "pot of self loathing. " We all have one. It is a pot that we must bear witness to when it tips over and spill through our consciousness. We may not recognize it at first because it is both guilded with compensatory feelings such as superiority, arrogance, anger and judgement and it's camouflaged pretty well with worldly attatchments such as youth and health and success and pleasure. But woe to the person whose pot of self-loathing is struck by an outside event like a rejection or a failure or a loss or disease. These events cause the camouflage to disappear or the guilding to get scratched, exposing the darkest imaginable feelings inside. This morning, during yoga, my pot tipped over and spilled into my consciousness.
I believe that we all have this pot. If our parenting was really really good, making us feel really really loved and welcomed on this earth- then we may have just a little pot that leaks out just a little self-judgement, unworthiness, or feelings of imperfections. Our pot probably doesn't give us too much trouble. But if we got the parenting that most of us got, a parenting with large amounts of critiscism and shame in it, we grow up with a large pot where self-loathing, and self-negation drip from our hearts.( I am not blaming the parents here-they did not know better. I believe this was a generational approach to parenting.) When this pot tips over, it fills our self talk with words sounding like mine this morning.
Why does the running stir this up for me? Is this good or bad? My yoga wisdom tells me that when this post of self-loathing pot tips over, it is important to stay present. Feel it spill into my body and my consciousness. Feel its tightness in my throat and its heavyness in my belly. Speak its words and cry its tears. Let all that sewage spill out and then I will feel lighter, cleansed, more peaceful.
Will I give up running even though I absolutely adore and crave how it makes my body feel? I will not. I understand the pot of self-loathing will exist whether I run or not. It will fill again and spill again and again until it's emptied out, I die or I smash it. My yoga tell me that the easiest way to get rid of it is to smash it and destroy it. The only way I can do this is to love myself unconditionally. This will smash the pot into tiny shards and the self-loathing inside will evaporate. How do I love myself unconditionally when there is a pot of self-loathing inside? I must start by loving myself for having it and then go on from there.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Yoga as Re-Engagement with the World
I am so thankful to finally be sitting here-in front of my computer. Baby is napping. The older kids are at school and I am finally alone. I have made an uneasy choice to let the chaos of the house sit still for now. For my own sanity, I refuse to acknowledge the dishes that need to be loaded into the dishwasher, the laundry that needs to be put away. A warm cup of chamomille tea sits beside me and I can feel its goodness in my belly. The day is rainy and dark. Fallen leaves cling to the driveway. The wind outside is a warm gush. I am barefoot, unshowered, tired and have been struggling all week to find some way to carve out time for myself. All of my spare moments have involved the simple and mundane tasks of the mother; wiping off crumbs from a counter, emptying out overflowing kitchen garbages, taking the laundry down to the laundry room, picking somebody else's clothing off of the floors, holding a tired 9 year old in my lap, giving my 11 year-old daughter extra help on her math homework, school conferences, dentist appointments, art lessons, music lessons, hair appointments, buying winter coats, grocery shopping, bringing our fat cat to the vet. The list gets exhausting and so do I.
I try to be accepting of my life in this moment, to let go into the world of taking care of others but ultimately I always come back to realize that I am out of balance when I try to do it all. I come back to the reality that only I can take charge of creating happiness or peace in each moment. As a women, mother and studio owner, I could continuously take care of "things" and never get time to take care of me. To get myself out of what I call my resentment cycle, I have learned to slow down and check in with myself when I start to feel overwhelmed. For me, feeling any amount of overwhelment is a red flag for self-imposed stress. Many times I will try to blame my uncomfortable feelings on others. I might blame my husband for working a lot of hours or my kids for not picking up after themselves or my employees for not handling things as competently as I think they should, but ultimately I learn that only I can change my unhappiness. This always leads me back to sitting down in the quiet moments of my life and listening to my body, asking myself, "What is it that I need in this moment?" The answers are always there. I only need to listen.
This weekend at Yoga Teacher Training I lectured that the ultimate goal of yoga is to reach a point where a yogi can be at peace in any moment. Every moment. In the yogic tradition, there are two archetypes or models for how an individual might reach this ideal state.
The first model is that of the yogi renunciate, on the mountaintop or in the cave, totally separated and withdrawn from the everyday world. Going inside, into isolation, the yogi finds what she needs- great clarity and peace.
The other archetype is the yogic warrior, who is fully and passionately engaged in the world. This yogi is completely dedicated to the well-being of others, and vows to never rest until all other beings are happy and at peace. He or she is the one who finds inner peace in the middle of external chaos.
Most householder yogis need to find a balance between these two archetypes. Seeking peace by creating a space free of intrusion, distractions, and external demands. He or she must also channel energy toward service, work, creativity, and relationships. As yogis, we must reflect on which of these two ways of recharging is missing from our lives.
There are other ways to think about this balance-the cycle of retreat and re-engagement. Consider using the physical body as an analogy. One of the primary differences between animate and inanimate objects is that animate beings adapt to stress, whereas inanimate objects are simply worn away by stress. Imagine a mountain that is being eroded over time by wind or water. An animate object responds differently: it actually grows in response to stress. Without forces of resistance, humans cannot develop adequate strength. Think of how we develop physical strength-we ask our muscles to do something they have not done before, and they react by changing; by growing new blood vessels to fuel the muscle cells, by growing in size; by developing new neuromuscular patterns that make it easier to do something that once was difficult. The same is true for how our immune system develops, for how we learn new skills, for how we develop our minds.
The key to this cycle of adaptation is that it requires a period of recovery. Physical rest is required after strength-training, and without sleep we would not be able to create new memories or engage in learning. If we do not offer the body and mind a period of rest, retreat, and recovery, our "engagement" with the world becomes a form of over-load and even self-injury. When we don't allow ourselves periods of rest, we don't become resilliant. We don't develop resistance. We are no longer replenished by activity. We become like the inanimate objects and wear down over time. Worn down from the way we interact with our world.
Recovery should be in scale with the stressor, activity or challenge we have recently been through. A little bit of recovery in every day may be enough to keep us learning and adapting. This is why recovery is so necessary in the yoga class that we offer our students. Just a little bit, in a vigorous yoga class, can teach our students the value of "recharging."
As I stated before, it is important to have balance. Consider this example- A person becomes overwhelmed by his or her job and looks for ways to "recover" through retreat. This person begins to try to take care of his or her self by cutting out everything that takes energy besides work. As he or she gets more and more disconnected, he or she has fewer meaningful moments and rewarding experiences. This person becomes less able to tolerate the stresses of their job. He or she ends up unable to get out of bed in the morning, and feeling like he doesn't have the energy to do anything at all. This is a classic cycle of depression, where the instinct to withdraw or to "rest" is not balanced by the instinct to re-engage.
This is someone who does not need more rest but needs more activity. This person needs something meaningful that exhausts him or her in a way that actually fills them up. There is something to the fact that using up all of our energy creates more energy, because we adapt to experience. It's like working out-the demands of activity create the strength, the flexibility, the endurance. People who are in the cycle of withdrawal and retreat have nothing to adapt to-and they continue to lose resilliency with the challenge that full engagement creates.
The other cycle is when someone is so involved with "doing" that he or she thinks there is no time to rest, and looks for what is missing in more activity and more projects. The more this person takes on, the more he or she feels unable to rest, and more he or she thinks he needs to do. Many people in this type of cycle tend to deprive themselves of sleep. Making the choice to continuously deprive yourself of sleep is a form of self-abuse. The body needs rest in order to build strength and endurance. A recovery period is always necessary. We cannot adapt withouts some kind of recovery. If we restress our body too soon, we create injury or chronic pain that makes us think we need to do more-and the more we do, the more we disconnect from what we need. The more we injure ourself.
Once we find ourselves in either one of these cycles, our instincts for balance are usually hidden underneath the strength and force of our habits and emotions. So most of us need to observe our patterns and look for what is out of balance. For the first time in over a week, I have chosen to sit down in front of my computer and create an entry in my blog. As I sit here in the stillness of the day, I realize what needs to be balanced. I have been putting all of my energy into my "work" for the past two weeks. I have been completely taken over by the demands of my mothering. It is time to engage myself in something that fulfills me in a creative way. That is why I am here, at my computer. Writing about what I love- yoga-challenges me and fulfills me. So does practicing some good hot sweaty yoga. Tonight I will make time for myself and I will gently push myself to get out of my house and take the power class at my own studio at 5pm. I will forget that I am a yoga teacher and studio owner and when I unroll my mat, I will surrender my thoughts and body over to the teacher and allow her to guide me into a state of yoga bliss. The demands of the yoga will be challenging yet sweet and serve to recharge me and re-engage me with my own strength and creativity. I will let the demands of the vigorous yoga "fill me up." in a meaningful way.
I try to be accepting of my life in this moment, to let go into the world of taking care of others but ultimately I always come back to realize that I am out of balance when I try to do it all. I come back to the reality that only I can take charge of creating happiness or peace in each moment. As a women, mother and studio owner, I could continuously take care of "things" and never get time to take care of me. To get myself out of what I call my resentment cycle, I have learned to slow down and check in with myself when I start to feel overwhelmed. For me, feeling any amount of overwhelment is a red flag for self-imposed stress. Many times I will try to blame my uncomfortable feelings on others. I might blame my husband for working a lot of hours or my kids for not picking up after themselves or my employees for not handling things as competently as I think they should, but ultimately I learn that only I can change my unhappiness. This always leads me back to sitting down in the quiet moments of my life and listening to my body, asking myself, "What is it that I need in this moment?" The answers are always there. I only need to listen.
This weekend at Yoga Teacher Training I lectured that the ultimate goal of yoga is to reach a point where a yogi can be at peace in any moment. Every moment. In the yogic tradition, there are two archetypes or models for how an individual might reach this ideal state.
The first model is that of the yogi renunciate, on the mountaintop or in the cave, totally separated and withdrawn from the everyday world. Going inside, into isolation, the yogi finds what she needs- great clarity and peace.
The other archetype is the yogic warrior, who is fully and passionately engaged in the world. This yogi is completely dedicated to the well-being of others, and vows to never rest until all other beings are happy and at peace. He or she is the one who finds inner peace in the middle of external chaos.
Most householder yogis need to find a balance between these two archetypes. Seeking peace by creating a space free of intrusion, distractions, and external demands. He or she must also channel energy toward service, work, creativity, and relationships. As yogis, we must reflect on which of these two ways of recharging is missing from our lives.
There are other ways to think about this balance-the cycle of retreat and re-engagement. Consider using the physical body as an analogy. One of the primary differences between animate and inanimate objects is that animate beings adapt to stress, whereas inanimate objects are simply worn away by stress. Imagine a mountain that is being eroded over time by wind or water. An animate object responds differently: it actually grows in response to stress. Without forces of resistance, humans cannot develop adequate strength. Think of how we develop physical strength-we ask our muscles to do something they have not done before, and they react by changing; by growing new blood vessels to fuel the muscle cells, by growing in size; by developing new neuromuscular patterns that make it easier to do something that once was difficult. The same is true for how our immune system develops, for how we learn new skills, for how we develop our minds.
The key to this cycle of adaptation is that it requires a period of recovery. Physical rest is required after strength-training, and without sleep we would not be able to create new memories or engage in learning. If we do not offer the body and mind a period of rest, retreat, and recovery, our "engagement" with the world becomes a form of over-load and even self-injury. When we don't allow ourselves periods of rest, we don't become resilliant. We don't develop resistance. We are no longer replenished by activity. We become like the inanimate objects and wear down over time. Worn down from the way we interact with our world.
Recovery should be in scale with the stressor, activity or challenge we have recently been through. A little bit of recovery in every day may be enough to keep us learning and adapting. This is why recovery is so necessary in the yoga class that we offer our students. Just a little bit, in a vigorous yoga class, can teach our students the value of "recharging."
As I stated before, it is important to have balance. Consider this example- A person becomes overwhelmed by his or her job and looks for ways to "recover" through retreat. This person begins to try to take care of his or her self by cutting out everything that takes energy besides work. As he or she gets more and more disconnected, he or she has fewer meaningful moments and rewarding experiences. This person becomes less able to tolerate the stresses of their job. He or she ends up unable to get out of bed in the morning, and feeling like he doesn't have the energy to do anything at all. This is a classic cycle of depression, where the instinct to withdraw or to "rest" is not balanced by the instinct to re-engage.
This is someone who does not need more rest but needs more activity. This person needs something meaningful that exhausts him or her in a way that actually fills them up. There is something to the fact that using up all of our energy creates more energy, because we adapt to experience. It's like working out-the demands of activity create the strength, the flexibility, the endurance. People who are in the cycle of withdrawal and retreat have nothing to adapt to-and they continue to lose resilliency with the challenge that full engagement creates.
The other cycle is when someone is so involved with "doing" that he or she thinks there is no time to rest, and looks for what is missing in more activity and more projects. The more this person takes on, the more he or she feels unable to rest, and more he or she thinks he needs to do. Many people in this type of cycle tend to deprive themselves of sleep. Making the choice to continuously deprive yourself of sleep is a form of self-abuse. The body needs rest in order to build strength and endurance. A recovery period is always necessary. We cannot adapt withouts some kind of recovery. If we restress our body too soon, we create injury or chronic pain that makes us think we need to do more-and the more we do, the more we disconnect from what we need. The more we injure ourself.
Once we find ourselves in either one of these cycles, our instincts for balance are usually hidden underneath the strength and force of our habits and emotions. So most of us need to observe our patterns and look for what is out of balance. For the first time in over a week, I have chosen to sit down in front of my computer and create an entry in my blog. As I sit here in the stillness of the day, I realize what needs to be balanced. I have been putting all of my energy into my "work" for the past two weeks. I have been completely taken over by the demands of my mothering. It is time to engage myself in something that fulfills me in a creative way. That is why I am here, at my computer. Writing about what I love- yoga-challenges me and fulfills me. So does practicing some good hot sweaty yoga. Tonight I will make time for myself and I will gently push myself to get out of my house and take the power class at my own studio at 5pm. I will forget that I am a yoga teacher and studio owner and when I unroll my mat, I will surrender my thoughts and body over to the teacher and allow her to guide me into a state of yoga bliss. The demands of the yoga will be challenging yet sweet and serve to recharge me and re-engage me with my own strength and creativity. I will let the demands of the vigorous yoga "fill me up." in a meaningful way.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Sisters
These are my two girls. 10 years apart. I often times observe them and marvel at the uniqueness of their relationship. The give and take of it. Are they similiar in nature or are they totally different? Will they appreciate one another as they grow up? Will they learn from one another? Will Sadie keep Emily younger in spirit? Will having Emily as a big sister turn Sadie into a teenager at 5? Who will they be in 10 years? In 20? Will they be close friends or will they be strangers to each other? As a mother, I have no choice but to be with the unknown.Monday, November 05, 2007
Day 26-Meet yourself right where you are
It is easy for me to get distracted by the day to day business of running two studios and a yoga teacher training program. Right now, we have a few issues going on with some teachers and some different issues going on with some of our clients. This is not unusual. There is always something to handle, some piece of a relationship or part of a building that needs repair. In any work situation, I ask myelf, "Do I confront these situations or do I let it go and see what happens? Am I handling these problems in a way that is best for the studio as a whole? Can I let these situations not be handled and a better solution might come up then the one I am first inclined to react with? These are lines of thinking that I could easily get tangled up in..... I have let myself get tangled up in. When distractible events or situations are going down at the studios, I can get a little lost from myself and my family. My attention span for anything other that my business becomes minimal. I meet the lowest common denominator for my own self needs and I barely pay attention to the needs of my family or my friends. The needs of the business become all consuming.
Fortunately, I am learning.......Day after day, I have to set boundaries up for myself to stay present with my own needs as a women, wife, mother, daughter, and friend. I am a slow learner, yet once I get something- I master it. I am starting to get it. Boundaries matter. I am learning to let go of the studios and let myself drop into the other elements of my life so that I am not completely swallowed up by the details of running a business. Details that will always be there tomorrow. Similiar to laundry.
This past week I set the intention in my practice to allow my yoga to meet me exactly where I am in the moment. Instead of trying to contol my yoga practice, I would become open to tuning in and listenting to my body and letting my yoga practice be more intuitive and spontaneous. Trusting that the poses I found myself taking on each morning were exactly the ones I needed.
My biggest fear was that my yoga practice might become too soft and that I might lose a yoga pose that is dear to me. Such as bow or side crow.......
Friday night, I looked over at my 11year old daughter Emily in my passenger seat. I was driving her somewhere and her presence gave me reason to pause. I couldn't stop looking at her, taking her in. If I could have eaten her up in that moment, I would have. Sometimes I let myself get too busy to see those that matter the most. This Friday, for reasons that I cannot quiet identify, I looked over and I saw her. I mean I truly saw who she was, her lovliness, her absolute beauty that came from somewhere vast and open. I saw her vulnerability and I felt her strength. She was and is magnificent.
It won't be long before her absolute trust in me is gone for a while. Not just me, but maybe even the world in general. In my opinion, our daughters ( and us when we were this age) get far too many messages that they are just a body, a barbie doll to be clothed, a sex object. All of these messages begin to register right around the time our daughters are getting their periods. This is the time that many girls, for the first time, experience depression and hopelessness, anger and self-esteem issues. Eating disorders, body image disorders, and god knows what else. They are on the cusp of new and raw emotions coupled with the realization that society's values are askew and, unless they are sexually attractive, our daughters are rendered powerless.
I want to hold my daughter steady. I want her to know the truth of who she is. I want her to know that she is talented, kind, courageous and wise. Messages will bombard her telling her otherwise. I want to keep her safe from the world and its oppression of women. But I know I can't keep her safely in my sight at all times. I am going to have to let her go. She is going to need to individuate and learn how to be in this world without me holding her hand or suffocating her.
At a party on Saturday night, a female friend of mine put it this way: "As a mother, we need to be like a swimming pool. We need to have strong sides so that when our daughters need to kick off of us, we are there to support that." The message comes to me again......Boundaries matter.
A strong container does matter as well. As a mother-my body image, my sense of self, my own identity needs to be strong. But I also feel it is important to be soft and yielding as well. Isn't this the feminine aspect that is so much needed to balance out our patriarchal society? Trust in the qualities of patience and love and tenderness. This brings me back to my practice this week of letting the yoga meet me exactly where I am in the moment. In these moments I need a bit of folding inward and letting my love flow outward. I am a rag doll, forward fold, an exhale. I am attracted to the poses that reveal the surrender. Soon I am to surrender to the emergence of my daughter as a teenager with more autonomy in this oftentimes harsh and careless world but it will not be without offering my own self as the container to which she can return to for both strength and comfort. I ask that nothing keeps me away from that.
Fortunately, I am learning.......Day after day, I have to set boundaries up for myself to stay present with my own needs as a women, wife, mother, daughter, and friend. I am a slow learner, yet once I get something- I master it. I am starting to get it. Boundaries matter. I am learning to let go of the studios and let myself drop into the other elements of my life so that I am not completely swallowed up by the details of running a business. Details that will always be there tomorrow. Similiar to laundry.
This past week I set the intention in my practice to allow my yoga to meet me exactly where I am in the moment. Instead of trying to contol my yoga practice, I would become open to tuning in and listenting to my body and letting my yoga practice be more intuitive and spontaneous. Trusting that the poses I found myself taking on each morning were exactly the ones I needed.
My biggest fear was that my yoga practice might become too soft and that I might lose a yoga pose that is dear to me. Such as bow or side crow.......
Friday night, I looked over at my 11year old daughter Emily in my passenger seat. I was driving her somewhere and her presence gave me reason to pause. I couldn't stop looking at her, taking her in. If I could have eaten her up in that moment, I would have. Sometimes I let myself get too busy to see those that matter the most. This Friday, for reasons that I cannot quiet identify, I looked over and I saw her. I mean I truly saw who she was, her lovliness, her absolute beauty that came from somewhere vast and open. I saw her vulnerability and I felt her strength. She was and is magnificent.
It won't be long before her absolute trust in me is gone for a while. Not just me, but maybe even the world in general. In my opinion, our daughters ( and us when we were this age) get far too many messages that they are just a body, a barbie doll to be clothed, a sex object. All of these messages begin to register right around the time our daughters are getting their periods. This is the time that many girls, for the first time, experience depression and hopelessness, anger and self-esteem issues. Eating disorders, body image disorders, and god knows what else. They are on the cusp of new and raw emotions coupled with the realization that society's values are askew and, unless they are sexually attractive, our daughters are rendered powerless.
I want to hold my daughter steady. I want her to know the truth of who she is. I want her to know that she is talented, kind, courageous and wise. Messages will bombard her telling her otherwise. I want to keep her safe from the world and its oppression of women. But I know I can't keep her safely in my sight at all times. I am going to have to let her go. She is going to need to individuate and learn how to be in this world without me holding her hand or suffocating her.
At a party on Saturday night, a female friend of mine put it this way: "As a mother, we need to be like a swimming pool. We need to have strong sides so that when our daughters need to kick off of us, we are there to support that." The message comes to me again......Boundaries matter.
A strong container does matter as well. As a mother-my body image, my sense of self, my own identity needs to be strong. But I also feel it is important to be soft and yielding as well. Isn't this the feminine aspect that is so much needed to balance out our patriarchal society? Trust in the qualities of patience and love and tenderness. This brings me back to my practice this week of letting the yoga meet me exactly where I am in the moment. In these moments I need a bit of folding inward and letting my love flow outward. I am a rag doll, forward fold, an exhale. I am attracted to the poses that reveal the surrender. Soon I am to surrender to the emergence of my daughter as a teenager with more autonomy in this oftentimes harsh and careless world but it will not be without offering my own self as the container to which she can return to for both strength and comfort. I ask that nothing keeps me away from that.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Aloneness
In the quiet hours of my yoga practice, I have come to realize that I need to be my own best friend. My actions and my thoughts all need to support that. All of us should embrace our solitude.
When I was in college, I learned about existentialism. I indentified with the aloneness of it all. We're born alone, we die alone, and we live alone, each of us on our own plane of perception. I read once that,"No two people have ever met." I take this to mean that even the people you know best and love with all of your hearts are your own projections. Sooner or later you wake up and you're the one whose left. If we allow it to be, this is a wonderful thing. You get to go to sleep and wake up with you, you get to order your favorite food and listen to your favorite music.
Meditation is a practice that comes and goes for me. This week it has been front and central in my 108 day practice. I come to my mat and sit with my eyes closed. 15 minutes pass and it occurs to me that I am feeling clear. I feel joy and gratitude. I let the thoughts appear from nowhere, move by like clouds, change and dissipate. In an instant, they are gone. Who named the sky?
There is nothing to grasp and nothing to control. All that is, all that it was and ever could be, is invited to meet me. It is all right if it kills me. It doesn't matter. I know not to stop it. I become bright and weightless and live without fear. Everything is visible now and I could kiss the ground. There is nothing to grasp and nothing to control. On my cushion, I notice that I'm worshiping not with any words, but with breath and my hands pressed together upon my heart. Where will this love end? How could I possibly know? I become aware of the softest whisper, a breath, and then not even that.
When I was in college, I learned about existentialism. I indentified with the aloneness of it all. We're born alone, we die alone, and we live alone, each of us on our own plane of perception. I read once that,"No two people have ever met." I take this to mean that even the people you know best and love with all of your hearts are your own projections. Sooner or later you wake up and you're the one whose left. If we allow it to be, this is a wonderful thing. You get to go to sleep and wake up with you, you get to order your favorite food and listen to your favorite music.
Meditation is a practice that comes and goes for me. This week it has been front and central in my 108 day practice. I come to my mat and sit with my eyes closed. 15 minutes pass and it occurs to me that I am feeling clear. I feel joy and gratitude. I let the thoughts appear from nowhere, move by like clouds, change and dissipate. In an instant, they are gone. Who named the sky?
There is nothing to grasp and nothing to control. All that is, all that it was and ever could be, is invited to meet me. It is all right if it kills me. It doesn't matter. I know not to stop it. I become bright and weightless and live without fear. Everything is visible now and I could kiss the ground. There is nothing to grasp and nothing to control. On my cushion, I notice that I'm worshiping not with any words, but with breath and my hands pressed together upon my heart. Where will this love end? How could I possibly know? I become aware of the softest whisper, a breath, and then not even that.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Halloween
My yoga practice for the day after Halloween consisted of 6am practice filled with inversions: Forearm Balances, Handstands and Headstands. The rest of the day, my practice was about staying away from the candy. Surprisingly, this was easy to do today. Check out my scary Halloween critters. All three of us are off to 4:30pm yoga class. Namaste.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Attiti-That which is before you is Divine
The first thing for a teacher to remember is that all the students who stand in her presence are as important as herself. A yoga teacher must remember that every student before her is the beloved. Whether we are teaching to one student or 100, we must practice the concept of Attiti. Attiti means, "That which is before you is divine."
As yoga teachers, we must practice yoga ourselves. We must learn that we are also the divine. Divine in each pose, in each breath, in each movement, and in each moment. A yoga teacher should be confident, clear, calm, clever, courageous, challenging, caring, considerate, cheerful, critical and committed. These are just a few qualities that come to mind. A yoga teacher must always be learning and have the humilty to acknowledge this.
On Monday, I taught a yoga class where only one student showed up. For me to sit up in front of this student and not appear to be dissapointed with the exceedingly low class turn out was impossible. I am painfully aware that I wear my emotions openly and I vaccilate between the need to keep my own frustrations and dissapointments hidden and the need for speaking the obvious and acknowledging what is truthful even if it is not ideal. The student who did come to my class on Monday is a very wise and sensitive student dedicated to her own yoga practice. To not aknowledge my truth in that moment felt false so I chose to acknowledge the lack of students, not make a big deal out of it, but name the elephant and move on.
In my centering that morning, I privately expressed gratitude for the one student who was there. One student or 100 students, it should not change my intention for teaching. I then did what I always do when I begin a class. I take a moment to center with my student(s) and privately set my intention for my teaching to be as pure as possible, to be exactly what my student (s) need, to teach from my best self, to let my pride, ignorance, and attatchment to self go. Still, even with the intention said and done, I felt a spark of attatchment, the voice of inadequacy, the tight fisted grip of suffering.
When I left the Samadhi Storrs Studio,that morning, I felt stuck. As I transitioned from the warm, dark and cozy studio out into the jewel bright sunshine of the day, I was struck by my unhappiness. My need for others to complete my identity. My need to control the events of the day, believing that the amount of students in my class plays back to me that I am worthy. I am significant. The need for others to validate my worth is an old tape that only leads to my own suffering and the need to cling for more control.
Today is Wednesday and I have had two days to process my Monday morning class. I have paid attention to other situations this week where I have needed validation through recognition from others and I have to admit, it is real and it is ugly. I like to think that this ugly is what my wise sage 11 year old daughter Emily would call, "ugly-beautiful." This is a jumping-off point for me to learn more about myself, for me to dive deeply into my darker places and emerge new. Earlier this week I wrote that where I am in any given moment is exactly where I am supposed to be.
Teaching to one student on Monday morning was exactly where I was supposed to be. Not as a wake-up call to examine my marketing and business skills, but as a wake-up call to examine my own happiness and the "old" patterns of sufferings that I continue to create. Acknowledging this need for external validation as a path I don't want to walk down anymore is the beginning of healing and change.
It is lessons like this that remind me that I am a child. We are all children, even the wisest of us. We are all five year olds learning how to do this precious thing called life. From my yoga practice, I am learning to laugh at my thoughts that keep me living so small. My yoga practice guides me to live in the unknown, hopefully leaving my need for control in the dust.
Today my walk away from teaching a class is much different step than the heavy steps I took on Monday. Today I notice life entering me as I walk away. Life continues to flow into me. Every step is where I am, even though it appears that I'm moving. How wonderful not to need the world, not to go out toward it, but to allow it to meet and enter me. I find that there's room in me for everything, everyone, every situation, every flavor of being. I love the openness that I am.
As yoga teachers, we must practice yoga ourselves. We must learn that we are also the divine. Divine in each pose, in each breath, in each movement, and in each moment. A yoga teacher should be confident, clear, calm, clever, courageous, challenging, caring, considerate, cheerful, critical and committed. These are just a few qualities that come to mind. A yoga teacher must always be learning and have the humilty to acknowledge this.
On Monday, I taught a yoga class where only one student showed up. For me to sit up in front of this student and not appear to be dissapointed with the exceedingly low class turn out was impossible. I am painfully aware that I wear my emotions openly and I vaccilate between the need to keep my own frustrations and dissapointments hidden and the need for speaking the obvious and acknowledging what is truthful even if it is not ideal. The student who did come to my class on Monday is a very wise and sensitive student dedicated to her own yoga practice. To not aknowledge my truth in that moment felt false so I chose to acknowledge the lack of students, not make a big deal out of it, but name the elephant and move on.
In my centering that morning, I privately expressed gratitude for the one student who was there. One student or 100 students, it should not change my intention for teaching. I then did what I always do when I begin a class. I take a moment to center with my student(s) and privately set my intention for my teaching to be as pure as possible, to be exactly what my student (s) need, to teach from my best self, to let my pride, ignorance, and attatchment to self go. Still, even with the intention said and done, I felt a spark of attatchment, the voice of inadequacy, the tight fisted grip of suffering.
When I left the Samadhi Storrs Studio,that morning, I felt stuck. As I transitioned from the warm, dark and cozy studio out into the jewel bright sunshine of the day, I was struck by my unhappiness. My need for others to complete my identity. My need to control the events of the day, believing that the amount of students in my class plays back to me that I am worthy. I am significant. The need for others to validate my worth is an old tape that only leads to my own suffering and the need to cling for more control.
Today is Wednesday and I have had two days to process my Monday morning class. I have paid attention to other situations this week where I have needed validation through recognition from others and I have to admit, it is real and it is ugly. I like to think that this ugly is what my wise sage 11 year old daughter Emily would call, "ugly-beautiful." This is a jumping-off point for me to learn more about myself, for me to dive deeply into my darker places and emerge new. Earlier this week I wrote that where I am in any given moment is exactly where I am supposed to be.
Teaching to one student on Monday morning was exactly where I was supposed to be. Not as a wake-up call to examine my marketing and business skills, but as a wake-up call to examine my own happiness and the "old" patterns of sufferings that I continue to create. Acknowledging this need for external validation as a path I don't want to walk down anymore is the beginning of healing and change.
It is lessons like this that remind me that I am a child. We are all children, even the wisest of us. We are all five year olds learning how to do this precious thing called life. From my yoga practice, I am learning to laugh at my thoughts that keep me living so small. My yoga practice guides me to live in the unknown, hopefully leaving my need for control in the dust.
Today my walk away from teaching a class is much different step than the heavy steps I took on Monday. Today I notice life entering me as I walk away. Life continues to flow into me. Every step is where I am, even though it appears that I'm moving. How wonderful not to need the world, not to go out toward it, but to allow it to meet and enter me. I find that there's room in me for everything, everyone, every situation, every flavor of being. I love the openness that I am.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Trusting The Process Of Life-Headstand
For the past week, I have been using a 5 minute timer. One of the postures I have been staying in for this somewhat intense and extended duration of a holding is headstand. Headstand, or sirsasana, is known as the "King of all postures." It is one of the postures usually associated with a yoga practice. It is an inversion. It is mind clearing. It is quiet. When performed correctly, it is light and it is ease.
Headstand is a posture very dear to me. When I first began practicing yoga and even when I was in my first years of teaching yoga, I never imagined that I would be able to get into this pose. I had tried to get into it many times. Without a teacher instructing me. I couldn't do it. I found it scary. What if I fell? (This was before I understood that you almost always have to fall to learn something new and wonderful.)
I found my inability to kick up into headstand frustrating. I would kick up and kick up from downward dog but I could never catch my core or get my "tuck." This was not a pose I did naturally as a child. Other postures that required strength had come easy to me. But not this one. I began to make up familiar stories for why this pose would never happen. My first story is an Anne classic. "I am just too fat to go into this posture. Headstand is for all of the very thin willowy yogis of which I am not." Then I would tell myself that it was ok that I would never get into headstand, that I was completely happy without it. After all, I was able to get into many impressive postures such as wheel and split.
Yet, in my yoga, something was missing. At the time, I was dedicated to practicing the Ashtanga Series at least 4 times per week. Everytime I watched one of my fellow yogis go into headstand, I could feel something missing in my body. I longed to be able to turn upside down. To raise my legs up over my head. Everytime I watched my fellow yogis slow down, concentrate and kick up into the headstand, I felt it somewhere deep inside me. I felt the pose and I felt the absence of the pose at the same time. My body intuitively understood the strength, stillness and ease which is the essence of headstand. My body was remembering something ancient and sacred. A feeling of movement and body wisdom that was imprinted deeply within my understanding. An understanding that goes deeper than my rational mind.
On September 14, 2001, I was at the Puck building in NYC with 200 other Ashtangi yogi's. We were taking a full Series 1 Ashtanga class with Pattaboi Jois as our teacher. Willam Defoe was on a yoga mat directly behind me. I was in the front row. When the time came up to go into headstand, I peeked back at the remainder of the room from my downward dog. I looked beyond my feet to see 200 yogis go up effortlessly into headstand, from their mats. The twin towers had just fallen days before. It was still early, 7:30 in the morning. Everyone in this room needed this practice to deal with the sadness and the chaos of living in this world immediately following 9/11. We were all practicing together. No one used a wall. It was beautiful. I told myself in that moment, that I would learn this awesome pose. No excuses.
It took less than a year, after that day in NYC, of practicing diligently before I learned headstand. It is such a feeling of exhileration the first time you get it. I still feel exhilerated and there is still a moment of trust each time I kick up. I have fallen in this pose, many times. I may not have always landed gracefully but I have never broken.
This week I have practiced headstand everyday for 5 minutes and it still does not have the ease that it had prior to my birth of Sadie. I practiced this pose until I was 33 weeks pregnant. I gave up the pose when she was no longer breach and had turned herself around. At that time, I instinctively knew it was time to let headstand go as I did not want to risk my baby turning herself back to the breach position. Since Sadie's birth, finding my comfortable headstand has been a slow process. I have had to trust that with a regular practice, my yoga will come back. It might be new and different but I must trust that the body will remember. Headstand requires a strong connection to the abdominals and an openness in the shoulders. Strong abdominals and open shoulders are still not quite where they were prior to Sadie and I must be patient. In yoga, it is not the end result but the journey or the process where all the gifts are to be found.
This week I have practiced headstand and am able to hold this awesome pose for 5 minutes without leaving. I have felt her qualities in my body. I have felt calm and clear and inspired. I have felt gratitude for making a choice, to learn this elegant pose 5 years ago in that remarkable instant after 9/11. I feel gratitude for my body and being able to inhabit it as fully as possible. No stories of being inadequate to keep me from fulfilling my own dreams.
Monday, October 29, 2007
up the mountain
Being out in nature on such a sunny crisp day. Going up the mountain. That is my other practice. Going up the mountain is Sadie's practice as well. We have been hiking together up Case since she was 3 weeks old. Our daily weekday hike takes us about an hour and 1/2. During the first 12 weeks of Sadie's life, hiking was the only thing that soothed her. We have done as much bonding on our well worn path up the mountain as we have nursing in the wee hours of the night. For now, we will hike for as long as we can. Until the snow falls.
Today was exceptionally beautiful and we got a pleasant surprise....... We went with Daddy. He took this picture. Notice Sadie's sweater. I made it. Also, check out her 4 teeth.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Blend Asana and Meditation for a Centering Practice
Students often ask me what my personal practice is like. TodayI describe my morning practice, straight from my sticky mat. Blending the meditation in to this degree is new to me. It felt really sweet.
Note on times: I actually used a clock to time these poses and meditations. I typically don't use a timer in my practice, but it worked well in this practice. For the most part, 5 minutes in a pose means holding the pose for 5 minutes, although this practice would work equally well if you need to rest and then re-enter the pose during the 5 minutes.
The selection and order of the asanas was spontaneous in the practice. I encourage you take the basic template of the practice - alternating long holds of challenging poses, long holds of relaxing poses, and 5-minute meditation periods - and substitute the poses that call to you in the moment.
5 minutes seated meditation in sukhasana.
5 minutes of breathing kriyas.
5 minutes downward facing dog.
5 minutes in seated forward fold (paschimottonasana).
5 minutes dolphin pose and variations.
5 minutes seated meditation in virasana.
5 minutes headstand.
5 minutes seated meditation in virasana.
5 minutes upward facing bow pose.
5 minutes reclining bound angle pose.
5 minutes meditation in a heart-opening, supported backbend (one blanket rolled under shoulder blades/midspine; one blanket rolled under knees, one folded blanket to slightly elevate the back of the head).
Savasana.
Total practice time: 1 hour. How I felt at the end of the practice: Centered, balanced, and inspired.
When I finished my practice, had released my savasana. I was still lying there. A luxurious moment at the beginning of a busy day. The light of day was just beginning to seep into my practice space illuminating the walls and ceilings. It was them that I heard the geese. At first I thought it was sea gulls and I was in a dream. But then it was the geese, flying to their second home. My body is my home. It is the only one I will ever know. The sound of the geese call out harsh and exciting. ( Mary Oliver) It is fall. A time of change.
My other realization on the mat today was that I clutter my life. My practice was so simple and spartan this morning and it felt right and authentic. I will write more about this later.
Students often ask me what my personal practice is like. TodayI describe my morning practice, straight from my sticky mat. Blending the meditation in to this degree is new to me. It felt really sweet.
Note on times: I actually used a clock to time these poses and meditations. I typically don't use a timer in my practice, but it worked well in this practice. For the most part, 5 minutes in a pose means holding the pose for 5 minutes, although this practice would work equally well if you need to rest and then re-enter the pose during the 5 minutes.
The selection and order of the asanas was spontaneous in the practice. I encourage you take the basic template of the practice - alternating long holds of challenging poses, long holds of relaxing poses, and 5-minute meditation periods - and substitute the poses that call to you in the moment.
5 minutes seated meditation in sukhasana.
5 minutes of breathing kriyas.
5 minutes downward facing dog.
5 minutes in seated forward fold (paschimottonasana).
5 minutes dolphin pose and variations.
5 minutes seated meditation in virasana.
5 minutes headstand.
5 minutes seated meditation in virasana.
5 minutes upward facing bow pose.
5 minutes reclining bound angle pose.
5 minutes meditation in a heart-opening, supported backbend (one blanket rolled under shoulder blades/midspine; one blanket rolled under knees, one folded blanket to slightly elevate the back of the head).
Savasana.
Total practice time: 1 hour. How I felt at the end of the practice: Centered, balanced, and inspired.
When I finished my practice, had released my savasana. I was still lying there. A luxurious moment at the beginning of a busy day. The light of day was just beginning to seep into my practice space illuminating the walls and ceilings. It was them that I heard the geese. At first I thought it was sea gulls and I was in a dream. But then it was the geese, flying to their second home. My body is my home. It is the only one I will ever know. The sound of the geese call out harsh and exciting. ( Mary Oliver) It is fall. A time of change.
My other realization on the mat today was that I clutter my life. My practice was so simple and spartan this morning and it felt right and authentic. I will write more about this later.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Full Moon
Last night, the full moon was amazing. As I drove home in the early evening darkness from a 4:30pm yoga class with my daughter Sadie and my son Matthew in the car, I felt blessed on every level. There was finally a fall chill in the air. My cozy sweater was making sense and I was feeling right with the world. Content. In the moment. In my car, following the moon home and I had just practiced yoga. The effects of the practice had landed softly in my heart and bones. My brain was relaxed. My throat was relaxed. I was in a place of knowing and feeling.
I felt right, I felt new, I felt love. My children had just practiced yoga as well. Yes, even Sadie. While I held gentle warriors and triangles in the earth studio with Cynthia J. as the teacher, Caelum, the children's yoga teacher in the sun studio carried Sadie on his hip. As I heard the sound of my ujaii breath and was gently reminded to make this yoga practice right for me, I could here Sadie's cooing throught the walls of my studio. It was very faint, but I could here her calling out in excitement to the other kids as Caelum and Dawn taught yoga postures to 12 children of various ages. Many of them siblings like Matthew and Sadie. Both of my children were so content when we left Samadhi. Matthew couldn't wait to come back next week. He commented on how much he liked shavasana. Caelum had brought in his xylaphone and played this while the kids rested in corpse pose. After class, as we were putting our shoes on, Sadie was busy talking at everyone in the yoga studio who passed her by. She seemed to have a smile and/or advice for anyone who looked her way.
Everytime I see a full moon I am in awe. It's beauty and newness never wear itself out. It is the most patient presence I have ever observed. It's face is non-judgmental and kind. I find it puzzling to think of all the people that a full moon throws out of kilter. The full moon has a bad rap for lunacy. I don't get that. To me it has the opposite effect. A quality of stillness and steadyness coupled with an illumination of a presence I can only describe as the beloved.
Tonight, I think about the moon and how it is continuosly creating. I feel that way about my own yoga practice as well. No matter how shitty, cranky, ugly or out of sorts I am feeling when I begin my practice, I almost always feel different by the end of shavasana. I feel new, I feel love, I feel grateful to be alive. Everytime I bear witness to a full moon, I am in awe at it's beauty and simplicity. I do not take for granted that I have lived through another cycle. The full moon almost always surprises me. Catches me off guard. Takes me out of any self-doubt or pity. I do not keep track of ithe moon's patterns but I feel steady knowing that it cycles with or without my knowledge. I feel reassured knowing it will cycle long after I die. When I complete a yoga practice, it is the same sort of feeling. I feel a steadyiness about my existance. Anxieties and judgements have been cleansed away. I am brought done to my essentials. My blood moving through my veins, the beating of my heart, and my breath. All that matters is here in this moment. All that matters is love and in that moment of fullness I am able to pause.
I love this poem by Lalla. I have every word of it memorized in my body.
The Soul, like the moon,
is new, and always new again.
And I have seen the ocean
continuously creating.
Since I scoured mymind
and my body, I too, Lalla,
am new, each moment new.
My teacher told me one thing,
Live in the soul.
When that was so,
I began to go naked,
and dance.
I felt right, I felt new, I felt love. My children had just practiced yoga as well. Yes, even Sadie. While I held gentle warriors and triangles in the earth studio with Cynthia J. as the teacher, Caelum, the children's yoga teacher in the sun studio carried Sadie on his hip. As I heard the sound of my ujaii breath and was gently reminded to make this yoga practice right for me, I could here Sadie's cooing throught the walls of my studio. It was very faint, but I could here her calling out in excitement to the other kids as Caelum and Dawn taught yoga postures to 12 children of various ages. Many of them siblings like Matthew and Sadie. Both of my children were so content when we left Samadhi. Matthew couldn't wait to come back next week. He commented on how much he liked shavasana. Caelum had brought in his xylaphone and played this while the kids rested in corpse pose. After class, as we were putting our shoes on, Sadie was busy talking at everyone in the yoga studio who passed her by. She seemed to have a smile and/or advice for anyone who looked her way.
Everytime I see a full moon I am in awe. It's beauty and newness never wear itself out. It is the most patient presence I have ever observed. It's face is non-judgmental and kind. I find it puzzling to think of all the people that a full moon throws out of kilter. The full moon has a bad rap for lunacy. I don't get that. To me it has the opposite effect. A quality of stillness and steadyness coupled with an illumination of a presence I can only describe as the beloved.
Tonight, I think about the moon and how it is continuosly creating. I feel that way about my own yoga practice as well. No matter how shitty, cranky, ugly or out of sorts I am feeling when I begin my practice, I almost always feel different by the end of shavasana. I feel new, I feel love, I feel grateful to be alive. Everytime I bear witness to a full moon, I am in awe at it's beauty and simplicity. I do not take for granted that I have lived through another cycle. The full moon almost always surprises me. Catches me off guard. Takes me out of any self-doubt or pity. I do not keep track of ithe moon's patterns but I feel steady knowing that it cycles with or without my knowledge. I feel reassured knowing it will cycle long after I die. When I complete a yoga practice, it is the same sort of feeling. I feel a steadyiness about my existance. Anxieties and judgements have been cleansed away. I am brought done to my essentials. My blood moving through my veins, the beating of my heart, and my breath. All that matters is here in this moment. All that matters is love and in that moment of fullness I am able to pause.
I love this poem by Lalla. I have every word of it memorized in my body.
The Soul, like the moon,
is new, and always new again.
And I have seen the ocean
continuously creating.
Since I scoured mymind
and my body, I too, Lalla,
am new, each moment new.
My teacher told me one thing,
Live in the soul.
When that was so,
I began to go naked,
and dance.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
I am restless today. Was unable to do my yoga first thing this morning. This means that I will have to cut and paste my yoga practice into my afternoon. This will take some doing since I have a dentist appointment, hair appointment, business meeting and am responsible for carpooling kids to pottery class. I am also teaching Power at 6pm. I am also the cook and housekeeper today.
I was unable to practice my yoga this morning as Matthew went into work sometime in the middle of the night and Sadie has been up since 5:30am. Cutting a new tooth. Based on the amount of mucus and her bouts of crying, cutting a tooth must be painful. I let her nurse freely last night. Probably she nursed four to five times. I stopped counting and at some point surrendered over my sleep and my body so that she could have some good "mommy medicine."
When I have to alter my most basic needs such as sleep and yoga for my children, I like to think that the most secure and fearless children are the ones who were allowed to develop their inner core of strength over time. They're not the ones who had their bottles or blankets snatched from them prematurely in a misguided attempt to "toughen them up."
I like to believe that the time I invest into Sadie right now is building her mental and emotional resilience in the world. I like to believe that she is absorbing a sense of safety and seecurity at a cellular level from our middle of the night bonding. I like to believe that I am honoring my intuitive mother's wisdom and am doing what is right.
Having children, a healthy marriage, running a business, and operating as a well adjusted women who is capable of identifying and meeting her own needs is a process. When I doubt myself or sometimes wish I was in a different stage of my life, I rely on the words of Hafiz. "This place where you are right now, God circled on a map for you."
I was unable to practice my yoga this morning as Matthew went into work sometime in the middle of the night and Sadie has been up since 5:30am. Cutting a new tooth. Based on the amount of mucus and her bouts of crying, cutting a tooth must be painful. I let her nurse freely last night. Probably she nursed four to five times. I stopped counting and at some point surrendered over my sleep and my body so that she could have some good "mommy medicine."
When I have to alter my most basic needs such as sleep and yoga for my children, I like to think that the most secure and fearless children are the ones who were allowed to develop their inner core of strength over time. They're not the ones who had their bottles or blankets snatched from them prematurely in a misguided attempt to "toughen them up."
I like to believe that the time I invest into Sadie right now is building her mental and emotional resilience in the world. I like to believe that she is absorbing a sense of safety and seecurity at a cellular level from our middle of the night bonding. I like to believe that I am honoring my intuitive mother's wisdom and am doing what is right.
Having children, a healthy marriage, running a business, and operating as a well adjusted women who is capable of identifying and meeting her own needs is a process. When I doubt myself or sometimes wish I was in a different stage of my life, I rely on the words of Hafiz. "This place where you are right now, God circled on a map for you."
Sunday, October 21, 2007
You may notice that there has been no blog entries for a week or so. Due to the difficulty of writing with an infant in the home combined with a strong hormonal flux, I have stayed away from publishing my blog entries. I did write, but I chose to keep them as a draft. For now anyways. In spite of it all, I practiced yoga every morning. On my familiar mat. At my studio or at my home and I am better for it. My hormonal rush has retreated and I feel like a normal human being again.
This is yesterday's entry:
I have tried to write about other things for this blog this past week, but at the end of each blog entry, I chose not to post the entries because they felt false. I wanted to sugar coat them so that each blog entry would be sweet and palatable but in the end this wasn't me. This morning I write what feels like a combination of truth with some niceness to make it palatable:
Each morning, the world is still dark outside when I begin my yoga practice, when I sit down on my mat with the word "beloved" written at my feet. The shades are drawn up and the glow of the street lights are my visual backdrop. The world is just waking up outside. Inside my studio, the fan of the heater hums and blows it gentle heat onto my yoga mat, assuring me that the room will soon be warm. A soft flute is playing on my ipod. There are no other sounds except for the familiary of my own yogic breathing.As I connect with the texture and depth of my ujaii breath and begin to move slowly into my warm-ups, I become aware of a familiar uneasiness. I feel as if I am stepping into a dark cellar. One where I have been before-where the monster lives. In the pit of my belly, I sense a vague nagging and self-loathing feeling welling up inside of me. I hear the voices of shame telling me that I am not good enough. In my yoga practice, as I perform the slower and longer holdings of my warm-ups, these voices get extremely loud. They tell me the familiar- my body is fat and I am ugly and and I should be thinner and prettier. They tell me that the studio I am practicing in is going to fail. It should be better. The studio is going to fail all because of me. I never do anything right. I never do enough. These ugly thoughts don't seem to go away unless I begin to practice my yoga strong and hard. Sun Salutations A's and B's with lions. Deep lunges burning my thighs coupled with handstands and wheels. Sweat needs to be dripping off my body onto my mat. I need to feel spent in every muscle in my body and then the thoughts retreat, at least for the moment.
Do these feelings of inadequacy really retreat? No of course not. They show up again and again and during my day, I manage to find ways to ignore or numb them. Sometimes it is with food, sometimes it is with more self blame. Sometimes, it is with blaming others for my uncomfortable feelings. It wasn't that long ago that I used to believe that someone was going to come and rescue me. If my saviour didn't show up then I would go into my "if only" cycle. If only my house was completely organized and clean, if only I get my body at the perfect weight, if only I got every bit of my life in perfect financial order, if only, if only, of only. Sometimes, I choose not to numb these feelings at all and ride them like a wave. The intensity eventually subsides but they do come back. They come back to say, "Here I am, I am the ugliness, I am the dark sister, the monster that resides deep inside. Now deal with me."
At some point during my childhood, I believe I learned to separate myself from emotional and physical needs. I do not think I am alone on this and I feel that society expects girls and women to put her needs second especially if it will make someone else uncomfortable. The unfortunate result of this is that I do not always recognize what I am feeling and what I need. Yoga can be challenging for me because it brings me face-to-face with my emotions-not always an easy place to be. Lying still on my yoga mat with no place to go, nothing to achieve, and no one to impress, there's nothing to stop my emotions, sensations, and feelings from coming to the surface. Sometimes this can be exhilerating and sometimes this can be frightening.
The connections between thoughts, feelings and language are formed at an early age. It is during this time that a child learns to think about right and wrong and also to feel these concepts in her body. Healthy connections between thoughts, feeling, language and the physical body are essential for a child to be able to express her thoughts and feelings out loud-and also to know which thoughts and feelings support her fully and which don't.
Our yoga mats offer us a safe place to explore our feelings. This starts on a physical level with the body. Today I stayed in a deep Warrior 1 for over ten breaths. As always, when I connect with the breath and physicality of the pose, I learn that I can stay in the pose and be fine-even when it feels uncomfortable, even when I want to bail or run away. I relearn each time that I don't have to act on every impulse, that I can be patient and that I can trust my body to tell me what it needs.
The body is the first place in which we feel emotions. Fear is embodied as a sinking sensation in the solar plexus, a stomachache, sweaty palms, or a racing heart. Anger may be accompanied by clenced fists, overall muscle tension, and a red face, or a scowl. The key to a lifetime of emotional and physical health is being able to name the emotion and, evetually, the event or thought that prompted that emotion in the first place.
The emotion needs to be validated and felt fully. It will then move through the body spontaneously once its message is heeded. Very often, once the emotion is named and vaildated, a spontaneous solution to the problem or situation will arise.
This week I went into some of my dark places. Familiar, ugly, and filled with shame. This week I practiced my yoga anyways. I feel as if the darkness has moved on and out. I understand that some of this is a cycle. I have confronted what has been building up inside of me over the past month. I have felt it, I have let it live and let it release. I feel new today. Alive, sexy, creative, and energized. Thank you yoga for letting me stay in the process, for allowing me to give attention to the shadow side of me. Thank you yoga for letting me be merciful to my dark sister.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Beloved-Days 4 and 5
This weekend was yoga teacher training. A chunk of 21 teaching hours blended together. Matthew and I usually leave this weekend feeling fulfilled yet tired to the bone. This weekend was no different. I did get my yoga practice in each morning. Although Sunday was kind of thin on the yoga but I will count the jala neti, which by the way really helped what felt like the beginning of a cold or sinus infection. Amazingly, that bit of underlying sickness is gone.
This weekend I was a yogic warrior. I was the one who painted war paint lovingly and meticulously on cheeks and eyes and lips. Stroke by stroke, each one purposeful. Each stroke a vivid reminder of who I am and what is important to me. Did I actually paint my face this weekend with the blood of berries and plants? No, of course not. But I did do something totally out character. In the middle of my yoga practice on Saturday morning, I found myself compelled to pick up the permanent black magic marker that I had noticed the day before behind the Samadhi desk.
I took this marker and with breath, introversion, concentration and meditation all seeming to happen simultaneously, I wrote the word “Beloved” across the top of my yoga mat. I felt truly freed by writing this. Before I began writing, I had no idea what I was going to put down on the mat, I only knew that something was wanting to get out and express itself. Loud.
When I practice yoga and I understand that I am the beloved and that all that I can see and know is also the beloved, I am peaceful. Yoga performed with this type of sensitivity is infinite times more beneficial that yoga practiced without. My breath awareness deepens, my connection to my “witness” is so immediate. Perhaps by swearing this union and loyalty to the beloved on my yoga mat, I can make this transition smoother to the everday. I can remember that I and all those that I love are also the beloved.
The wise proclaim that love is the only path. Only love can bring unity and remove the separation between all living beings. Only love purifies the body and mind. Love is not far away. It is only as far away as my heart. You can find it in your heart without taking a single step. Love is my only path. I am, in fact, a warrior on the path of love.
This weekend I was a yogic warrior. I was the one who painted war paint lovingly and meticulously on cheeks and eyes and lips. Stroke by stroke, each one purposeful. Each stroke a vivid reminder of who I am and what is important to me. Did I actually paint my face this weekend with the blood of berries and plants? No, of course not. But I did do something totally out character. In the middle of my yoga practice on Saturday morning, I found myself compelled to pick up the permanent black magic marker that I had noticed the day before behind the Samadhi desk.
I took this marker and with breath, introversion, concentration and meditation all seeming to happen simultaneously, I wrote the word “Beloved” across the top of my yoga mat. I felt truly freed by writing this. Before I began writing, I had no idea what I was going to put down on the mat, I only knew that something was wanting to get out and express itself. Loud.
When I practice yoga and I understand that I am the beloved and that all that I can see and know is also the beloved, I am peaceful. Yoga performed with this type of sensitivity is infinite times more beneficial that yoga practiced without. My breath awareness deepens, my connection to my “witness” is so immediate. Perhaps by swearing this union and loyalty to the beloved on my yoga mat, I can make this transition smoother to the everday. I can remember that I and all those that I love are also the beloved.
The wise proclaim that love is the only path. Only love can bring unity and remove the separation between all living beings. Only love purifies the body and mind. Love is not far away. It is only as far away as my heart. You can find it in your heart without taking a single step. Love is my only path. I am, in fact, a warrior on the path of love.
Friday, October 12, 2007
I am not inadequate in any way- Day 3
Today’s practice began at 5am. I could not sleep because I was concerned that I would over sleep. My mind was also reviewing the full day ahead which included a ribbon cutting ceremony, teaching two yoga classes, banking, grocery shopping, and 3 hours of yoga teacher training. In addition to this, my babysitting was not lined up for the weekend. This is a very big deal for me and creates a tremendous amount of anxiety. On yoga teacher training weekends, Matthew and I work 21 hours in addition to the 5 hours I am all ready scheduled to teach .
I started my morning tripping through a dark house at 5 am, praying that I would not wake Sadie, who was sleeping in our living room until she learns how to sleep through the night. I got to the yoga room without waking Sadie, without falling over random objects such as books and shoes, left out of place in the dark. I flipped on too bright lights because the candles were not where they were supposed to be. I propped myself down on the yoga mat and like my fat white cat (whom I adore), I sprawled myself on my back.
I felt stiff. I felt shackled to tiredness. I did a totally organic practice with a minimal of holding and movement. I was a puddle on the floor. As I observed my body, it felt like someone elses. No that was not true, it felt like mine. Tired and resistant. This morning, I wanted my body to be somebody else’s body.
An hour passed. In all of the forward folds, I went in and out of consciousness and eventually ended the practice with my face planted down on my mat. The portable heat was cranking and the warmth was undeniably seductive. My eyelids were weighted and I think I may have drooled on the yoga mat more than once. So.... I called this morning’s practice a "yin" practice and I am deeming it “enough.”
I am not inadequate in any way because I practiced gently this morning. I am not inadequate in any way because I practiced gently this morning. Now, I only have to believe this.
Good Morning.
I started my morning tripping through a dark house at 5 am, praying that I would not wake Sadie, who was sleeping in our living room until she learns how to sleep through the night. I got to the yoga room without waking Sadie, without falling over random objects such as books and shoes, left out of place in the dark. I flipped on too bright lights because the candles were not where they were supposed to be. I propped myself down on the yoga mat and like my fat white cat (whom I adore), I sprawled myself on my back.
I felt stiff. I felt shackled to tiredness. I did a totally organic practice with a minimal of holding and movement. I was a puddle on the floor. As I observed my body, it felt like someone elses. No that was not true, it felt like mine. Tired and resistant. This morning, I wanted my body to be somebody else’s body.
An hour passed. In all of the forward folds, I went in and out of consciousness and eventually ended the practice with my face planted down on my mat. The portable heat was cranking and the warmth was undeniably seductive. My eyelids were weighted and I think I may have drooled on the yoga mat more than once. So.... I called this morning’s practice a "yin" practice and I am deeming it “enough.”
I am not inadequate in any way because I practiced gently this morning. I am not inadequate in any way because I practiced gently this morning. Now, I only have to believe this.
Good Morning.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Bell of Mindfulness
Last night, my wise teacher said to me, “I have an idea for you. I have a strategy to help you become as mindful as possible over the next 108 days with your yoga of relationships.” My teacher, like myself, was not as concerned with my ability to actually practice the asana practice over the next 108 days. I have done that before. Maybe not an actual counting of 108 days but I have had a regular morning practice for months at a time with only a few mornings off each week. Mostly these mornings off were so that Matthew could go into work early. Or I might choose to hike instead of practice yoga for the morning knowing that I could sneak a class in later at the studio. So, in my experience, taking a morning off from yoga practice is because I know that I will get to practice later that day or it is a sacrifice that I make for others. In addition to my love and need of an actual physical practice, I only have to jump in my car and drive 5 minutes to get to my own brand new and beautiful yoga studio or, if I can’t make it to the studio, I certainly can make it to the small yet sweet yoga room in my house. Combine my strong need for physicality in my body plus the availability of accessible yoga space with and an ability to wake up early, before the rest of my clan and I feel strongly I should succeed. My morning yoga ritual is this: light some nag champa, roll out my mat, plug in my ipod and I am ready to go. So with the physical part of the 108 days of yoga being the part with ease, it is the yoga of relationship that scares me.
It was either Eleanor Roosevelt or my mother who said, “Do one thing a day that scares you.” For me-being present and being mindful with myself and others is where I fear I shall fail. I know there should be no judgement here. This is yoga. But still.
My teacher says that I should set a bell to ring through out the day. This is a Buddhist practice. Each time the bell rings-this is a message- for me- to slow down and breathe and allow myself to experience the moment, the here and now. Whether I am folding laundry, cooking, driving kids around, talking on my phone or changing a diaper, I can take a deep breath and slow down. Learn to accept the moment, than I can let go and surrender and allow myself to feel “santosha” the yogic word for contentment.
If I pay attention, mundane occurances seem to happen with some sort of cosmic order beyond my understanding. Last night, my teacher tells me to create a "bell of mindfulness," and this morning I was awakened by a strange beeping sound. In my semi-awakened state, I asked myself, “Is this my mindfulness bell?” If it is, it is so annoying. Where is it coming from? It is only 4am. This is a mean bell for going off at such an early time. I located the beeping sound, which had been going off every minute for at least 10 minutes, and found that it belonged to a dying cell phone deep in the heart of my house. Pitch black, early in the morning, on the first day of my 108 day practice, I felt a sense of despair and pity for myself wallow up big inside me. I had only been asleep for 3 hours. I had nursed Sadie at 1am and had difficulty falling back asleep. The fat cat was hungry and her bowl was empty. Why was I the only one who heard the dying cell phone? Why do I have to feed the fat cat every morning?
I heard my teacher’s voice, “Take a deep breath Anne, maybe this is a sign. Start your mindfulness practice right now. Take a deep breath and begin right now.”
My practice was wonderful this morning. I was joined by Jude, Nikki and Michelle. We started out slow with some gentle udianna bahnda and kumbaka. This morning was the first time since Sadie has been born that I felt my familiar uddiana in my body. I haven’t been able to feel the seal inside and I have been ever patient waiting for it to reemerge. Eventually we moved into downward dogs on the wall and handstand. I was surprised how light handstand felt this morning. I am always pleasantly surprised when handstand feels light.
The biggest gift in my morning practice was shoulderstand. (Honestly, I think Headstand is so much more delightful than shoulderstand.) I do not love shoulderstand. I do not look forward to it and, if I am truthful, I only practice it when I am asked to or confronted with the fact that I have not done a shoulderstand in a long time, like maybe a shoulderstandfree month has passed me by.
This morning –shoulderstand was different. This morning, full shoulderstand felt just as it should. It felt light and open. I felt grounded and tall. I felt perfectly aligned. I was surprised and full of awe. Maybe shoulderstand had so much ease today because I went up into it from bridge. Maybe it was because of the re-emergence of my uddiana and light handstands. Maybe it was because of the beeping of the dying cell phone? Whatever the reason, I am thankful for the ease in a posture that I have preconceived ideas about struggle and difficulty. Maybe my built up fear about my ability to handle mindfulness with relationships and my world around me is just that- built up. A castle built up into the air with no earth to ground it.
It was either Eleanor Roosevelt or my mother who said, “Do one thing a day that scares you.” For me-being present and being mindful with myself and others is where I fear I shall fail. I know there should be no judgement here. This is yoga. But still.
My teacher says that I should set a bell to ring through out the day. This is a Buddhist practice. Each time the bell rings-this is a message- for me- to slow down and breathe and allow myself to experience the moment, the here and now. Whether I am folding laundry, cooking, driving kids around, talking on my phone or changing a diaper, I can take a deep breath and slow down. Learn to accept the moment, than I can let go and surrender and allow myself to feel “santosha” the yogic word for contentment.
If I pay attention, mundane occurances seem to happen with some sort of cosmic order beyond my understanding. Last night, my teacher tells me to create a "bell of mindfulness," and this morning I was awakened by a strange beeping sound. In my semi-awakened state, I asked myself, “Is this my mindfulness bell?” If it is, it is so annoying. Where is it coming from? It is only 4am. This is a mean bell for going off at such an early time. I located the beeping sound, which had been going off every minute for at least 10 minutes, and found that it belonged to a dying cell phone deep in the heart of my house. Pitch black, early in the morning, on the first day of my 108 day practice, I felt a sense of despair and pity for myself wallow up big inside me. I had only been asleep for 3 hours. I had nursed Sadie at 1am and had difficulty falling back asleep. The fat cat was hungry and her bowl was empty. Why was I the only one who heard the dying cell phone? Why do I have to feed the fat cat every morning?
I heard my teacher’s voice, “Take a deep breath Anne, maybe this is a sign. Start your mindfulness practice right now. Take a deep breath and begin right now.”
My practice was wonderful this morning. I was joined by Jude, Nikki and Michelle. We started out slow with some gentle udianna bahnda and kumbaka. This morning was the first time since Sadie has been born that I felt my familiar uddiana in my body. I haven’t been able to feel the seal inside and I have been ever patient waiting for it to reemerge. Eventually we moved into downward dogs on the wall and handstand. I was surprised how light handstand felt this morning. I am always pleasantly surprised when handstand feels light.
The biggest gift in my morning practice was shoulderstand. (Honestly, I think Headstand is so much more delightful than shoulderstand.) I do not love shoulderstand. I do not look forward to it and, if I am truthful, I only practice it when I am asked to or confronted with the fact that I have not done a shoulderstand in a long time, like maybe a shoulderstandfree month has passed me by.
This morning –shoulderstand was different. This morning, full shoulderstand felt just as it should. It felt light and open. I felt grounded and tall. I felt perfectly aligned. I was surprised and full of awe. Maybe shoulderstand had so much ease today because I went up into it from bridge. Maybe it was because of the re-emergence of my uddiana and light handstands. Maybe it was because of the beeping of the dying cell phone? Whatever the reason, I am thankful for the ease in a posture that I have preconceived ideas about struggle and difficulty. Maybe my built up fear about my ability to handle mindfulness with relationships and my world around me is just that- built up. A castle built up into the air with no earth to ground it.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Circle In The Sand-Preparing For The 108 Days Ahead.
October 9, 2007
Now, more than ever, I am drawn to practicing yoga. Ironically, now, more than ever, is the most challenging time for me to practice yoga. Maybe this is because of my own talent of taking on too many things at once or maybe this is because of things that I have no control over. As a yogi, I realize the value in letting go of blame and to be truthful. At this point in my life, at 41, there are more obstacles in the way of me carving out time for a daily yoga practice than ever before. The truth is that this is a problem. A problem for myself and a problem for those that rely on me, that love me, that need me to be present, kind and caring. I know I need a change. I have known for a while that I need a change. I need a large quantity of the purist quality yoga shot up in my arm. Piercing my skin, running through my starving veins and permeating into every cell of my body. Only then will I be able to breathe.
This is not the first time I have felt this way. This has happened before. There are many times when I have let life get chaotic and spiral way out of control until all of my essential structure gets pounded down by the raging waves of the ocean. I become tired. My yoga practice gets soft. My ability to take care of myself through meditation, writing, healthy eating, and thoughtful communication becomes almost non-existent. I begin to self destruct. I begin to feel inadequate and see only the inadequacies in those that I love and the world around me. I do an excellent job of combining self-abuse with self-neglect and then I fall apart. Am I there right now? At my self-destructive place? No, not even close. Thank God. But I am on my way. I could go there. In a moment, if I let it. The conditions are right for the eventual spiraling down. I feel the familiarity. Fortunately, I have a strong foundation of yoga in my life right now and because of this foundation-I can hear the voices underground. I can hear what I could not hear before I practiced yoga. I can hear the wise voice buried deep inside speaking to me-telling me that I have the tools to change this. I listen.
In the past, when I start to feel this familiar pull into the spiral of self-loathing and continuous overwhelment, I usually attend a yoga workshop. I go away. I go away by myself, most likely to Kripalu, and practice intensely for one week. Nobody to take care of but me. The week feels like a couple of hours. In the car on the way home, I feel changed. I smile at the people taking my tickets at the tolls on the Mass Pike. I crank up Krishna Das and chant at my loudest right until I pull into my driveway. I empty my mass of dirty yoga clothes dutifully into my washer. I have arrived back into my beloved home surrounded by my dear ones. I come back to my same life feeling recharged and that some pretty good yoga that has taken “root” inside my body. I feel the “bhava” or love of living my life. I not only see the glass as ½ full but I feel it and drink it. Sometimes I get drunk on it. I practice embracing the “fullness” of my life. These yoga retreats can usually get me through 6 months of my life. For 6 months, I can deal.
Sometime during this unseasonably warm fall, as the trees burn their fall colors into my mind and surrender to their own natural rhythm, as the afternoon sun beats down on pavement, as I fill my environmentally correct shopping bag with native squash and overripe tomatoes, I realize that I am barely “dealing” with my needs. I am not connected with my own rhythms, with the rhythms of this earth and the sacredness of the everyday. Fall is the time where I usually feel the most alive and vulnerable. Instead I am thick dust stuck to the forgotten and there is no Kripalu to rescue me this time around. There is no place for me to flee to- I have way too much going on: new studio, Matthew’s new business and a 7 month old baby who is obviously thriving attached to my breast at every chance she gets.
It occurs to me in obvious ways- I need to change. This time I cannot go away to do this. I need to revitalize myself and it occurs to me that I can. I must do this now and I do not need to leave my life to get the self-care that I am so low on. It occurs to me that it’s about time I find the nutrients in my own dirt. Be organic in my own practice and buy local. I can get what I need by going no further than my own “PVC free” luscious yoga mat.
So, I choose to practice yoga for 108 days. 108 is an auspicious number. A lifetime of reasons-none of which I pretend to understand rationally. But intuitively I understand the 108 beads stranded by hand on the sandalwood mala. 108 beads to touch, one by one, under my fingers. Each bead , a sweet inhale and exhale, a connection to life force, to prana, to being in the moment. I commit to practicing for 108 days in a row-not just the asanas but yoga in every way. I am drawn to the possibility of practicing yoga in every aspect of my life. The biggies are obvious: my relationship with myself, with my loved ones, and my surroundings. The subtleties are not so. I want to slow down. I want to slow down. That is the most profound and most challenging gift I can give myself. I want to create intention in everything that I do. I want to acknowledge the sacredness of the everyday, the mundane, the beautiful and the ugly that is right in front of me. There is no other way out. There is no one out there who is going to come in and rescue me. Not Matthew, my children, my therapist, my mother, my students, my teachers, or my friends. I have to do this myself. I have to draw my own circle in the sand.
With this said- to my family, my loved ones, my friends, and those that support me- I am drawing my circle in the sand. The circle is my boundary so that I can have the space and time to practice on my mat each morning at 6 am. The need for the boundary is essential to my success of completing a 108 day practice. What I need to feel full and whole becomes increasingly clear. I need to make the time, no matter what, to connect with what really matters to me. Being grateful, being in my breath, being in my body, being in nature, being creative, being fully alive. These are all the things I need but I don’t always know it. Instead I think I need a clean house, a chocolate chip cookie, a visit to my email, a new pair of shoes. None of these things ultimately work in the long run. I have learned that only I can change this. Only I can create meaning and intention in my life. There is no other way out. I have to draw my own circle in the sand.
So here I am….standing with arms open. I am scared and hopeful at the same time. I am at the threshold of 108 days. The completion of this 108 day yoga practice will bring me to Saturday, January 26, 2008. A new year. The middle of winter. A time where introspection and turning inward aligns with the winter season. I look forward to this process of meeting the yoga mat at 6 am, no matter what, every morning. Seven days per week. I also look forward to blogging it, to be open to what expresses itself, what traces of the practice will reveal itself in the written word. I also welcome your responses as well. I feel a bit strange about putting this out there so publicly but at the same time, I am a yoga teacher committed to teaching from my own direct experience and I seek to learn from others who are out there being real, authentic, honest and open about their connection to healing and what is sacred.
108 days of yoga stretch out before me. A path to take and where it will lead me-I do not know, nor do I care. It is the process I seek; the commitment, the discipline, the mindfulness, the love, the sweetness, the surrender. Each journey begins with one step, so they say.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)