Yoga With A Music Playlist: Is This Really Yoga?

In many yoga classes and studios, music is becoming a mainstay. I am not talking about the soft sounds of the sitar or the quiet chanting of a New Age songbird sifting in the background, but loud popular music, heavy base lines, rippin' guitar riffs, trance, electronica, rock'n'roll and rap. Like other recent arrivals to yoga, including non-plastic water bottles, eco-friendly yoga mats, blocks and straps, the addition of music brings with it a similar controvesy: Is it really yoga?

The following essay is my conflict, love affair and expanding relationship with yoga and music.

When I was in the summer that fell between sixth and seventh grade, elementary school and junior high, being a child and becoming a woman, I got my first record album as a present. It was The Bee Gees -Saturday Night Fever. The givers of this much longed for present were my grandparents. They had no idea what the music was all about, they only knew that I had begged them for it. Wore them down. When I received that first album, I stepped into a new world. I was Alice sliding down the rabbit hole. I can still remember taking the plastic off of the cover and the smell of a new album. The way the cardboard edge felt under my finger tips. In that moment of unwrapping my precious first record, I began to grow up. Music became an accesible vehicle to give voice to newly emerging feelings; highs and lows, knowing and uncertainty, self love and self loathing as I outgrew childhood.

I grew up with parents who did not listen to music. Nothing. They never even had the car radio on. Although they were in their 20s and 30s in the last half of the 1960s and throughout the 1970's when so much exciting political and life changing music was happening, they were understandably too busy making a living and raising four young children to give it much attention. With no older siblings to expose me to music, I had to rely on friends. There were countless afternoons where groups of us sat around in someone's living room or basement and listened to music for hours. By that time, I was a little older. We were probably smoking cigarettes, maybe even pot. But what I remember most is not the high from any substance but the high from the music. According to Nina Simone, “Music is my God.” Throughout my teens, my Gods were Queen, Led Zeppelin, Van Halen, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Who, Pink Floyd, Yes, The Doors and I could go on and on.

At twenty, I fell in love with the man who was to become my husband of twenty years because of music. We grew up in the same era, in the same neighborhood, with the same friends, and with a ton of overlapping life experience. It was no surprise that we shared the same musical taste. By the time I started dating Matthew, I had a love affair with The Dead, James Taylor, Bob Marley, Neil Young, Crosby Stills and Nash. In our two decades together we have disagreed on a lot, but very little when it comes to musical taste. Our biggest musical estrangement is that I will never be a fan of Bruce Springsteen and Matthew would be just fine if he never had to listen to Tori Amos ever again.

At some point in my late twenties, I stopped listening to music. It slowly fell out of my life. One day it was just not there anymore. I felt little connection to the music I had so adored in my early teens and early twenties. I no longer recognized the names or sounds of popular new bands. The current music scene was edgy in a way I could not relate to. It felt overwhelming for me to conceive of catching up. Where would I start? Besides I was too busy. My life had gone in new directions. For the most part, I was content with my role as wife, full time employee and new mother but something was missing. I felt more important and more needed than ever before but less alive. I felt constricted. I was slowly turning into my own parents.

When I found yoga, I found music again. Simple as that. I was 31 years old when I took my first yoga class. My teacher, who was in his 70s, was playing the most beautiful (and current) music out of his portable cd player. The haunting voice of Loreena Mckennitt to the music of the cello woke something up inside of me. As we practiced pigeon and cows face, I remembered for the first time in a long time what it was like to be emotionally stirred up because of a song, a rythym, a voice. From that moment on, music slowly came back into my life. Sarah McLaughlin, Tory Amos, Lenny Kravitz and others. My taste had changed. I had changed. The refound connection to music that I experienced in my early yoga practice encouraged me to seek out the music that spoke to the woman I had become. It would take ten years but eventually I would fall back in love with all of the music that I had once loved and open up to much much more.

I went on to become a Kripalu yoga teacher. In a traditional Kripalu class, music is played only prior to class, during warm-ups and in Sivasana. According to tradition, the music should be soft and non-invasive. The breath is the focus. The breath is the truth. Loud music, drum beats and lyrics that talk about pain, pleasure, and political agendas will only serve as external distraction. Knowing that popular and current music did not conincide with my traditional learnings of yoga, I experimented with it anyways. I felt part yoga teacher, part yoga teacher imposter, part rebel, and part artist. My experiments with yoga and music almost lost me my first teaching job at a “real” yoga studio. A job I really wanted. The owner of the studio did hire me but after a strong lecture about my musical choices. She hired me because I had a obvious understanding of teaching alignment and technique but she took a hard-line approach to the music I had chosen to play in that first demo class. She told me “no” to my music. It would not be tolerated. It was simply too non-traditional and not what her yoga community wanted. I didn't like the feeling of my new found creativity to be rejected but I also wanted the job. When in Rome.....

In addition to teaching at the more formal yoga studio, I was also teaching at a gym. Here I could be as non-traditional as I wanted as long as my numbers were good. And good they were. People were coming to my classes in droves. Music became one of the foundations of my teaching. At first it was strictly Yoga music which I devoured. Pre I-Tunes, I poured over the World and New Age section of Borders. I spent hours at the Kripalu Shop, with headphones in my ears, listening to samples of the newest Yoga artists. I became intimate with Wah, Deva Premal, and the well-deserved king of contemporary Kirtan- Krishna Das. But I also added the quieter songs of The Beatles, Eva Cassidy, and The Rolling Stones into my mix. I was becoming as much a deejay as teacher. I put as much thought into my music selection as into sequence, techinique and philosophy.

In 2005, I went to Los Angelas to visit my brother. I randomly took a Yoga class led by a teacher named Light in Steve Ross's Maha Yoga Studio and I was blown away. During a two hour Power Class, he seemed to play all of my favorite songs. Loud and without apology. Throughout the practice, my eyes welled up with tears and at one point streamed down my face. After class the woman next to me said she was sorry if she bothered me because she cried during the entire class. It was not only me who was moved to tears.

As a studio owner, I see the benefits of practicing with music. It draws people in who otherwise wouldn't come to a yoga class. It works well for Type A people who, if not distracted with music, would otherwise spend the class in their heads instead of their hearts. Practicing with music also allows students to access moods viscerally, to process emotions they might not otherwise unearth without intellectualizing or analyzing them. In my power classes, I see this daily. In simple words, “Music allows people to let go of their emotional crap and feel totally exhilerated.” Music can evoke feelings of sadness, grief as well as feelings of celebration, compassion and love. For me, music gets me out of my head and into my body. My critical self becomes open and receptive. Receptive to the teachings, the breath, the combined energy of the yogis in the room. All of us on the same path for the next hour. All of us unique and precious. Music opens up my limited ways of thinking. It helps me to go underneath my self-imposed labels and every day responsibilities. Music helps me to let go of doing. This is essential to a spritual practice. To let go of identifying with oneself as the doer. When that happens, then what will remain is the truth. My truth as the woman I am;,creative, compassionate, a lover of life, and vibrantly alive.

But there is a downside to music in a yoga class. Music might be exotic. exciting and lift people up and out of the mundane. But isn't that the point of yoga, to be with the mundane? To face ourselves on every level, including the mundane. If this is the case, then practicing with music can be a distraction from the path. Patanjali laid out that the aim of yoga is to control the fluctuations of the mind. “Yoga citta vritti nirodah.” (Yoga Sutra of Panjali, 1.2) The mind must be observed constantly and with unwavering discipline. How is one to observe the movement of the mind while it is being flooded with a drumbeat and lyrics that glorify acquisition and luxury, and other external distractions that do not support the aim of yoga?

Unfortunately I have been in classes where the instructor leans too heavily on the beat of the music and goes light on instruction. I have personally witnessed sequencing as nonsensical, asanas as barely taught, students who wobble unguided in poses they haven't properly learned and breath that is unchecked, inconsequential and hardly referenced. To turn on music and command poses without technical guidance or philosophical reference waters down the practice and allows the term “yoga” to float somewher between fitness regime and latest pop culture trend. This is also a set up for poorly learned yoga and the reinforcement of bad habits which can lead to long term damage. Just because the monkey mind is being momentarily drowned out by The Black Eyed Peas does not mean the students are in touch with their bodies. As we move deeper into the body, into the muscles, joints, subtle energy body and stored psychology, isn't more focused attention, without distraction, crucial to uncover, release, deepen and expand?

These days I choose to play my music. But with discretion. I feel that a loud and distracting music playlist is not appropriate for beginners. For them I choose the gentle sitar or softer artists like Eva Cassidy and Ben Harper. In my beginner style classes I am careful to not drown out the collective sound of inhale and exhale. The Ujayaii breath is a vulnerable and sacred mantra.

These days I play my music only in my intermediate-level classes. Here's where it works. It is desirable to encourage yoga as a celebration. Grunting your way through a challenging standing series while The Jackshon 5's “Can You Feel It?” blares all around you is fun. It is certainly more fun than grunting your way through a challenging standing series to the cacophany of demons in your head.

As a long-time yoga practioner, I know too well the pitfalls of a rigid path. For five of my last ten years of yoga practice, I studied with a demanding and rigid teacher and noticed myself taking my yoga and my life much too seriously. During these five years, there was no loud rocking music of any kind in my classes. This is what I thought was “truthful” yoga. During this period of my own hardcore yoga, I thought I was seeing the truth. But in reality I was not seeing. Yoga's truth is joy. The point of yoga is expansion. Opening up to all of who we are and all that this lifetime has to offer.

When the ancient yogis laid down their philosophy, guidelines and techniques, the world was smaller. As our world expands, so does yoga. If you are really practicing yoga, you are looking inward and you are focused on yourself. You are not worred about what other people are doing. You are not concerned with whether it is “traditional” or “not.” Yoga is union. Sun and Moon, earth and sky, black and white, kirtan and kanye. These days you will find Adam Lambert's brilliant stripped down interpretation of “Mad World” playing in my Power Classes. It's all yoga and its all good.

Summer...It's a Staycation For Me

This Memorial Day weekend Matthew and I packed up our family of five and our pop-up camper and drove to North Truro, Cape Cod for our annual camping trip. When we arrived at the campground it was unusually empty. This was surprising since last year during this same holiday weekend the campground was full with no vacancies. Another interesting observation was that the car trip there and back went unusually smooth. Last year it took us almost four hours just to get off of Cape Cod. This year it took us less than half of that time. We hit no traffic. Even our GPS was confused. Another sign of the times was that while visiting stores in P-Town we saw many of the usual tourists but noticed that no one was lined up at the cash registers.

OK, with the daily news of our country's economic woes, GM on the brink of bankrupcy, it's no surprise to see that people are scaling back. I am a perfect example. As a women who has done her share of retail therapy (especially on vacations) I have had to change my evil ways. These days everything, especially essentials, drain my bank account. For example, the day before we took off to Cape Cod it was necessary for us to get a hitch installed on our van to pull the camper. That set us back $360 bucks. Add two tanks of gas and four bags of groceries and I had to say “forget it” to any extra curricular shopping I might have done.

After experiencing the high cost of a simple camping vacation such as the one my family just took, I plan on staying home more this summer. Enjoy my family, friends, and that which is right in front of me- a back deck perfect for sharing a glass of wine, a newly mulched garden and a two year old who lives to run through sprinklers. I plan on exchanging any retail therapy for yoga therapy. Taking care of my mental and physical well-being is definitely one area of my life that I do not want to scale back.

It's promising, however, that so far this summer, people have not sacrificed their yoga. In fact, more people than ever are attending classes. In these challenging economic times-Why are so many of us doing yoga?

1. Because of tight finances, more and more of us are choosing to vacation at home. This gives us more time to keep up the routines that we need and love such as yoga. We keep up our yoga because we want to stay healthy, focused, relaxed and strong.

2. When difficult times fall upon us, it is more important than ever to take extra special care of ourselves. One of my students, who was recently let go from a computer job in Corporate America is at the studio practicing almost every day. She sees this as a positive coming out of a negative. She says that the yoga is boosting her ability to deal with uncertainty and is helping her to look and feel her best as she goes out on job interviews. In her own words, this is not the time to let herself go, sleep away the day, or gain twenty pounds.

3. Compare the cost of a yoga class (at approximately $10 to $16) to a day at the spa, a movie with popcorn, or happy hour with friends and yoga becomes a very affordable and healthy option.

4. Some of us practice yoga with a buddy. This way we’re more likely to stick to our wellness routines if we have a friend that is counting on us. In my yoga classes, I have several couples, mom and daughters and great friends who come to yoga and then grab dinner or tea afterwards to catch up. In our high tech and isolating world, face to face interaction beats hours on facebook or twitter any day.

5. We don't want to join a generation of everyday people who wear themselves out for a paycheck. We want to make living simple and spirituality a part of our daily lives instead of something we do only on Sunday. We don't want to live in perpetual exhaustion. If we realize that our modern lifestyle model that idealizes the modes of overstriving, forcing, rushing and making-life-happen aren't totally working for us, then yoga is a practice that can help us to reject society's craziness and give us other ways to survive and even thrive. A regular and balanced yoga practice (contains elements of both hard and soft, engagement and retreat) guides us to develop a more intuitive and grounded way to discern and sort out our life.

5. Yoga is perfect for difficult times since it is tough, tried, true, deep, modifiable, and life-transforming.

To me-no matter what the circumstances, yoga is so worth it! Even when my free time is precious. Even when my budget is tight. Through yoga we learn valuable lessons and techniques, especially how to be more alive, more self accepting and how to manage our stress. We learn how to manage our overall well-being. Above all, we learn how to be in the moment and how to cherish this life, even when its uncertain, stressful, or just plain frantic.

The Passing of Pattabhi Jois

A great teacher sees his or her students as they truly are. This week, at the age of 94, the great Astanga teacher, Sri K. Pattabhi Jois died following a brief illness. His children report that he taught yoga in his shala up until last week. Jois was one of the great yoga figures of our time and was hugely influential in bringing Astanga, Power and Vinyasa Yoga to the West. He was a skillful, lively and passionate teacher who had the keen ability to see all of his students and teach them exactly what they needed to know in that moment. He met his students at their own level and inspired them to grow strong and steady in both body and mind. Jois stated over and over that a spiritual practice is just that. “99% practice and 1% theory.” Anything else will not serve the yogi.

I had the good fortune of taking a week of early morning Astanga yoga classes with Pattabhi Jois in New York City days following 9/11. For one full week, a few of us local dedicated yogis carpooled into the city. We left at four in the morning and got back into Hartford by lunchtime. I took this amazing yoga class with over two hundred others in the Puck Building. With our yoga mats in toe, we had to pass very close to Ground Zero to get to class. Yellow police tape was everywhere and the gray ash of the devastated Twin Towers floated in the air.

Pattabhi Jois was an unforgettable teacher. His presence was God like. He commanded the classroom like a king. In a room where hundreds of yoga mats were only inches apart, the intuitive and alive teachings of Pattabhi Jois inspired us to laugh, cry, and physically tremble. He opened up my spirit for a strong body and he also opened up my trust in our world to heal.

As a yoga student and yoga teacher, I was starstruck and fell into a hardcore daughter/father crush with Mr. Jois. As I practiced yoga before him, I prayed that I would do everything right so that I would not receive his disapproval. When he asked us to pop up into headstand without the use of a wall, I did. Before that moment, I had always used the crutch of the wall and did not believe I would ever be able to do a headstand without one. Going into headstand on my own for the first time without support is a yoga moment that will live in the memory of my body forever. I can still feel the butterflies.

After aweek of yoga with Mr. Jois as my teacher, my spirit was on fire. I was scheduled to open my very own yoga studio in Manchester the next day. I emerged from that life altering week full of gratitude and deep in my heart I knew that the whole world was one family. Some good meaning people questioned whether I should open my yoga studio so soon after 9/11. That maybe I should hold off on celebrating a new business when the world was still crying. After experiencing all of the love and kindness in New York City immediately following 9/11, I intuitively knew that opening a yoga studio in the aftermath was more necessary than ever.

The late Pattabhi Jois was a great teacher. A great teacher sees his or her students as they truly are. Following 9/11, Mr Jois saw us all as we were in that moment. Strong, resillient, capable of healing and full of lcompassion and love. His passing reminds me to silently acknowledge the many teachers (yogic and non-yogic) that have shaped my life. The teachers who saw you as you were and believed in your abilities and capacities even when you were unsure. A great teacher sparks your soul and brings that yearning for truth and spirit alive.

Since that fateful week in 2001, teaching yoga, fostering growth, compassion and awakening in others has become my life mission. No matter what age, color, culture, socioeconomic status or position in life, we all need to breathe and learn how to take care of our bodies, ease our minds and connect to the divinity that lives within each of us. Pattabhi Jois said, “Yoga cannot be owned. Yoga belongs to everybody.” I couldn't agree more. This yoga is for everyone.

Meet Yourself Right Where You Are

Sometimes at the beginning of my yoga classes I tell my students

"As you settle into your mats meet yourself where you are...right here...right now...in the sukha- the sweetness of this moment. No need to strive or try to be something other than you are. You are already radiant,perfect and whole."

It is an easy thing to come to the mat full of expectations that moments later turn into harsh criticism. Next time you move on to your mat leave those things behind and just abide in your own True Nature...already perfect and whole. Doing this on the mat helps us to recognize how often we move through our day setting up expectations for everything we do and then creating a hostile assault we wouldn't wish on our worst enemies if we don't meet our ideals. How easy could your yoga asana be, how sweet could each moment of your life be, if you just met yourself in each moment full of love and acceptance just as you are?

Dreams

Dreams are strange. Dreams are messages from inside. Dreams are healing. Last night I had a unsettling dream that a college age girl with autism came to my home and asked me to take care of her. I really wanted to care for her but in the end I had to ask her to go back home to her own mother. This morning I woke up and wrote the following poem:

The Stranger

I dreamed
a stranger lived here.
She broke in two
and glued her ear to the floor.

I dreamed
a stranger lived here
pale as white sky.
I had to hand her back
to the authorities
the ones she came from
who peel skin off my back
with sharp eyes.

Today
I cannot
take care of myself
let alone an angel
sent from god.

The judge bangs her gavel
Her eyes are kind.
She understands.
I think about killing her holiness
But I don't know if I could
live with final Good Byes.

I want to be that stranger-
let me shatter
and rearrange my parts
in unexpected ways.
I want to be teeth, hair,
blood and bone-
take my last breath
on doorways and windows
and the refrigerator door.

The stranger could care
less who sees her.
She knows that pieces
glued to the forgotten
will eventually die
and new holes
will allow her true light
to shine.

Corpse Pose- Faith or Fear?

Many yogis find Sivasana (corpse pose) at the end of yoga practice to be the most challenging of all yoga poses. This was certainly the case with me during my first few years of practice. Resistance to corpse pose will show itself whenever I am out of balance. Doing too much. Frantic. Going and pleasing. Going and pleasing.

Our shared silent theme song could be:“Give us warrior ones and twos, lead us into salvation with hip openers, throw at us endless planks and backbends but please please don't ever make us lie on our backs and do nothing.” Why is this? Why is it unsettling to take a brief amount of time and do nothing? In our fourteen waking hours, why would five to ten minutes of doing absolutely nothing make us want to get up and run?

The only reason some of us don't leave the room is because we consider ourselves too polite. We wouldn't want the instructor to take it personally (Ha!) or what if our desire to flee might be viewed as some sort of character flaw, or even worse, a weakness.

I believe the reason for this difficult relationship with Sivasana is all about control. In yoga language the word yama has two definitions. The first is “control” and the second is “death.” I cannot accept this duality in definition as coincidence. The ancient yogis recognized that control and death are intertwined. They cannot be separated. Two sides of the same sheet of paper. What is the biggest thing we cannot control? Death. Let us control each and every moment and maybe then we can avoid our biggest fear.

We are a nation of stress junkies. We are used to operating on high levels of cortisol corroding our adrenal glands as we take on the world. If we fatigue we turn to quick energy such as caffeine and sugar. We deprive ourselves of sleep. We push on to do more. On the outside we are well put together. Our teeth our brushed, our shoes match our outfit and our make up is expertly applied. On the inside we are shaky. Secretly we know ourselves as imposter's fooling the world. We suspect that we could be unveiled at any moment.

We would have to live on another planet to not be aware of the benefits of relaxation in our hectic and stressful lives, yet silently we scoff at it. It is far easier and more seductive to be the task master of each moment. If we slow down, we have to let go of the illusion of being in control. If we slow down we would have to operate from the heart space of faith and trust as opposed to the mind space of ego and fear. We need to be in control or else what is there?

Wouldn't it make sense to fear asana (posture) practice more? What if the teacher asks us to explore the poses that scare us? The ones that we have yet to master or that we feel intense sensation in. Handstand or dolphin or frog? Whatever our personal blend of scary and uncomfortable pose is, most of us will still choose to stay with the practice. The reason for this is because in posture practice we are still the conductors of our bodies, breath and mind. We choose to stay present or let our minds wander. We choose to do the pose or rest, engage our core or not, reach our arms overhead or bring our hands to our heart. We choose whether we listen to the teacher's voice or focus on the music. In a yoga classroom, the teacher might be leading the practice but the individual yogi is still making all of his own choices. The yogi is still doing.

We are all still doing.

To stop doing is a practice. To stop doing means that we cannot "avoid" any longer. We live in loops of distraction. To be doing all the time, thinking about what could have been or what is going to happen next is a form of distraction. Patanjali call this avidya or ignorance. When we are still, as in sivasana, we can no longer avoid. We must confront whatever shows up and then allow it to pass on to die so that we can arrive and live fully in each moment. When we lie down in sivasana, we lie down with all parts of ourselves. We lie down with our repulsions and our attachments, both of which are sacred, both of which teach us about our patterns of how we live. By letting our thoughts arise and observing our patterns without pushing them aside, analyzing, accepting or rejecting- we allow for the categories of what we once labeled as unacceptable or intolerable to fall away. Observing our patterns of attraction and avoidance and where we are in relation to the present moment allows us to surrender to the feelings that we have been denying. This is what gives us space in body and mind. When one practices this way-there is space enough for everything.

A wise friend of mine said that she believes that there are only two places we can live from- faith or fear. Surrendering into corpse pose, if only briefly, is an act of faith. To totally surrender, there are no views, no conceptions, no thoughts, and no ideas. The world is seen without filters, modifications, interpretations, goals, and qualifications. In this space, corpse pose has no beginning or end and our awareness of time dissolves. There is nothing to be done. No doing. Thinking comes to a standstill and an intuitive knowing, rather than a rational understanding occurs.

If you are skeptical of corpse pose, the next time the teacher leads you there tell yourself any of the following statements. “For the next few minutes, I will allow myself to completely relax and let go. I will surrender. I will trust the process of life. I am open to the joys of living. I will have faith in myself. I will observe whatever comes up without analyzing or pushing the thoughts away. I will completely let go.” Pick the statement that feels the easiest and most truthful. Above all be compassionate to yourself. Always.

The aim of yoga practice in daily life is to live vividly from moment to moment without getting hung up about thinking or not-thinking. Wood floor, open window, blanket, cushion, t-shirt, wool socks – there is something profound right here. We are not trying to create an experience. We are making room for experience to happen. Experience, like the present moment, is always waiting for a place to happen. The architecture of savasana requires us to continually let the ground we are lying down on, literally the ground of our thoughts and our bodies, to fall away, until the constructs that frame our experience pass on. This is an act of both dying and being born. Our imagination makes us very busy exploring the world of choices. In the end, there will be no choice, just death. So in the center of your very human life, where you are always looking around for something better, notice how the present moment is just a small death away.

The Writer In Me

“We can spend our whole lives fishing only to discover in the end it wasn't fish we were after.” -Thoreau

The barn is burned down now, I can see the moon.” -Masahide

This past weekend my fourth grade son was in a children's theater musical production with forty other kids ranging in ages from four to eighteen. I was blown away by their budding talent but struck even more by how uninhibited these kids were. Dancing, acting, and singing their hearts out. Not one kid appeared to be held back by fear or self doubt. I know that most of them, my son included, envision acting as a major part in the rest of their lives.

When I was in fourth grade I dreamed of being a writer. I also wanted to be an artist, actress, singer, mother and doctor of psychology. I remember writing my first short story for school. It began with a mother preparing a breakfast of bacon and eggs for a young girl while she lay in bed and let the comforting smells awaken her. (This is interesting to me because I have no memory of either of my parents cooking me breakfast. We were more of a cheerios type of family.) My teacher praised the writing for its descriptive language. I recall how satisfying it was to put words on paper and capture a moment that someone else could relate to, how good it felt to construct a universal connection and have something to say.

I want to become a writer before I die. This buried longing revealed its face when I resurrected the Samadhi newsletter one year ago but the truth is that the writer in me had been crying out for expression ever since I was that little girl in fourth grade. Every time my muse tried to emerge she had been forced back to the bottom of the ocean by perfectionism, denial and intense self criticism. I never believed that I could write anything worth reading. I have always been a good reader and am acutely aware of all the amazing writing that exists “out there.”

These days I call myself a writer even though I have not been published in anything more than local magazines. More significant than the label I give to myself is that I have given myself permission to let the muse flow and trust my written word. It might not be much but I have chosen to carve out one hour twice a week to devote to my dream. This is a realistic and compassionate chunk of time. Twice a week I must begin. Twice a week, no matter what, I must face the blank page. I must face the faceless and unknown. For the past year, every time I sat down and stared at the wide open page- I felt fear. “Do I actually have something worthwhile to say? I am not qualified. I am fake. I am doubt.” I consider getting up from my chair and do anything else; clean the crumbs from out of the toaster, polish my sunglasses, or paint my toes.

Conquering resistance is taking that first step out the door that confines you. It is taking that first step on the wooded path of your morning run or taking that first breath linked with reaching your arms up to the sky as you begin your Sun Salutations. Conquering resistance is saying no to the junk that clutters your path; fear, aversion, busyness or just plain sluggishness. My mind prefers that I never begin. It begs me to divert. Do something useful. My inner critic uses her bitchiest tongue, “Shouldn't you be switching a load of laundry right now instead of trying to be something your not? You are no Joan Didion, that is for sure.” Many times this voice is enough to choke my muse and I quit. I go do something else. That something else is anything but want my heart wants me to do. My heart wants me to put down some words-any words- on the blank page. My wisest self begs me quietly to pursue my dreams to live a big life. The life I really want. Not the life created by diminished belief or the expectation of others. I want to determine my own life. To write. To create. To live and love from my soul.

On my yoga mat, I know how to let my practice and my body unfold breath by breath. But getting started isn't always easy. When I first spread out my yoga mat, I have various reasons why I should just roll up my mat and go home. The room is too cold or too hot, some skinny chick took my usual spot, my nose is stuffy, my body is too stiff, too tired, or too fat. Oh and lets not forget that my yoga pants are falling down and I forgot my hair tie. Then I breathe. I take that first sacred and holy breath. Sometimes the first breath requires courage. Courage to stay and face my own self no matter what state my mood and body is in. For approximately one hour there is no place to go. No place to hide. I must live with the bare truth of who I am.

As I allow my first inhale to fill me and my first exhale to empty me; resistance, anxieties, judgment and fear begin to release their teeth. Soon my body is moving. Sometimes the first few movements feel like punishment but then something shifts and it all becomes easier. My muscles, bones, and connective tissue begin to warm up and respond. They open and receive whatever is coming next. My yoga mat becomes a friendlier place. My mind becomes clear and energized. My body becomes fluid and awake. Finally there is no judgment. I lose track of time.
When I am finished with my yoga practice, my body and mind feel glorious. I often ask, “Why do I resist something that clearly makes me feel so good?”

To begin to create what we truly want in life is like that first breath. We can be afraid of what will happen next. We can come up with many good reasons to delay. We are experts at making excuses and psyching ourselves out. Yet we can't let ourselves turn away-we must dive in. And when we do, it can be miserable if we don't let ourselves breathe and warm up. We need to give ourselves permission to take it slow, make mistakes, and have periods of self doubt.

Sometimes in our own lives we are the apprentice and sometimes we are the master. But no matter who we are, if we want to open up to our dreams, we must trudge onward. We must begin. We must be fearless examples to our own children and show them how to stay true to their hearts desire by staying true to our own. We must let ourselves be vulnerable and burn down the walls of perfectionism. We must believe in our own selves and sanctify time each week to put aside for our own dreams. No matter how small that chunk of time might be. We must take that first breath and plunge. This is how we sing and dance our own hearts out. This is how we flow.