Driving in my car this morning on the way to teach my weekly lesson at Yoga Roof, I thought about what I wanted to say in this month's blog and how I might connect it to this marvelous day of celebrating Women the world over. Then a dear friend who is going through a difficult time called and we spoke of how, though she can't imagine it now, the devastation she is feeling at the moment will pass, and she will emerge from the wreckage whole and yet transformed in ways neither of us can imagine. Then, as I walked the rest of the way to class and thought about the plan I had crafted for today's lesson her words echoed in my mind:
"How will I get through this?" And since some of the best ways I know to sort through questions of the heart are movement and meditation, I put this question to the class and we practiced paying attention to how we confront challenges on our mat: do we resist, recoil, harden, blame or shame? Can we learn to relax, to receive support, to soften, and even smile? Might we meet the challenges of life with the same sense of softness, steadiness and play that we bring to an arm balance or bind? As we closed with a blessing to each other and others who are facing challenges (everyone on the planet) I sent a special blessing to my sweet, suffering soul sister and gave thanks for the grace of seeing her through to the other side. And then at the end of class, some folks stayed for tea and we sat beneath the new sign on the studio wall: "just for moment I park myself in the middle of the joy and surrender" More than the beautiful words what touched me was seeing the name beneath it and being able to tell the story of how I know Kate Hoyle. Her genuine smile, punctuated by the sweetest dimple in her cheek, is what first endeared Kate to me when I met her as a college freshman. During the four years that she cared for our daughter, our dog, and our home, Kate became a precious part of our family and a dear friend to me. When I think of the qualities that I want my own children to possess, I think of Kate: kind, courageous, vulnerable, adventurous, reverent, loyal, generous, radiant. A few months after her graduation from college, she sent me a copy of her self-published poetry volume, home. Several times, I have shared one of my favorites in class: i drew you there when your eyes were closed, before the day and the people touched you. i drew you in words and light. i wonder if you'd see yourself in my portrait. you might see God and not know she shares your face. An artist, writer, yogi, activist, traveler, sister, daughter, and whole-hearted life-liver, Kate is a soul sister. What a gift to see that her words and her light will live in the hearts of the yoga community where her passion for the practice was ignited and to be able to share our story with anyone who wonders about the origins of that magnificent sign. When I got home to write this, I checked my email as all good procrastinators do, and found a message from Yoga Roof congratulating me for my anniversary with the studio. Six years ago today, I took my first class at Yoga Roof. Having left a yoga community in Salt Lake City that filled both my soul and my social needs, I longed for something similar and, for four years, searched out the few options to no avail. Then, hearing that a friend had rented a space in town to offer lessons, I showed up to the first class. Along with one other woman, we practiced in a black-walled room rank with the smell of stale cigarettes from the previous nights' event. At the end of the class, the other woman in the class introduced herself as Mara and shared that she and her husband were opening a yoga studio shortly. A few months later, they opened and I came to take my first class. My prayers had been answered. As a new mother still feeling the effects of postpartum depression and working part-time at a job my heart was no longer in, the studio became a refuge for me and the weekly classes I took with Kelly Griswold re-ignited my desire to teach again. When I approached Mara, she wasn't convinced, but was willing to give me a shot--outside the studio. So I proposed Walking Yoga and for an entire summer we traversed around town and practiced asana everywhere--including the Riva Caccia Bagno Pubblico where we received strange looks and now, over 100 people gather every Saturday during the summer to practice! In the fall, I got a slot on the schedule and within a couple years, followed my heart to make teaching yoga my vocation. Through it all, from hybrid-adventures like Stroller Yoga Workout and Yoga Hikes, to my latest experiment with a Yoga + Essential Oils workshop, Mara has always given me the space and support to grow, to make mistakes, and try again, and to share my passions. It hasn't always been sunshine and rainbows, and as with any meaningful relationship, we are stronger for having faced challenges together. I am forever grateful to this soul sister who invited me to try her studio and has been inviting me ever since to show up and contribute my talents to realize our shared vision for a thriving yoga community. When I met Mara in that terrible room, I could not have imagined my life right now. Though the details themselves have changed only a little, my inner life has transformed--in large part thanks to the soul sisters like Mara and Kate who have come into my life. On that day, ujayiing away in the rancid air, I too wondered how I would get through it. Not just the toxic air, but the challenges of living a life that didn't feel like mine. I couldn't have know that six years later, I'd have the privilege of spending the morning breathing fresh air in a light-filled room with my beloved, dedicated students. I couldn't have known that I'd have a collection of women to celebrate, cry and collaborate with. But that's how it is with miracles. In fact, it was Kate who said on a summer afternoon while we sat by the lake with our mutual soul sister Prue: "miracles are everywhere. You just have to look and you will find one." What a gift to be able to share a few stories of some of my soul sisters. I am blessed to have many more, and someday, I'll share them all with you. For now, on this International Women's Day when we honor half the human race, let us reach out and share the stories of our soul sisters. Let us thank the women who have held up the sky for us when we felt our world crumbling to pieces. Let us admire the women who are leading by example and celebrate the women who are helping us to realize our dreams. Let us applaud the women who are taking the day off to take a stand. Let us forgive the women who have hurt us and lift up the women who are reaching out for help. Let us remember the women who have passed. Let us welcome our girls, the women of the future, into a sacred sisterhood by telling them the stories of the women in our lives and in this way, we will get through it--any challenge however mundane or grave, personal or political--together, softer, steadier, maybe even smiling.
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I am a light-seeker. If you’re taking the time to read this, you probably are too. Actually, I’m convinced we are all on a quest to awaken, we just take different paths. While I’m sure that many roads can lead to enlightenment, lately I’ve felt like I keep running into dead ends. In an effort to attain clarity and because I tend to get nostalgic and reflective this time of year, I made a “year in review” list of my personal peaks and valleys of 2016. While recollecting the important events it occurred to me what counts as a Big Wow has totally shifted. In my teens and early twenties, I sought enlightenment through a range of consciousness-altering approaches: drugs, drinking, and yes, yoga—catching glimpses of illumination, but also a whole lot of fuzzy memories. The next years were filled with the kind of momentus occasions that mark the passage into adulthood: marriage, moving away from family of origin, losing loved ones, having babies. Now at thirty-six with two kids, a dog, a husband whom I’ve loved for exactly half of my life, the Big Wows are no longer the result of a mind-altering substance, a major milestone or an epic event, but are rather epiphanic moments of realization in the most ordinary instances. Enlightenment is no longer about getting high and escaping reality. It’s about getting fully immersed in it. Big Wows occur when we are attuned to what is happening right NOW. When I look out my window and notice the sun highlighting the last of the red leaves on a tree across the lake. When my daughter comes into our bed in the early morning and the three of us lie still, breathing together. When my son is about to cause mischief, and I catch that twinkle in his eye before he launches the pasta across the table. When I place my hand on a woman’s back as she rests in downward dog, and we both exhale completely, hearts softening simultaneously. Big Wows are moments of conscious connection and resonant awareness. Big Wows allow for openings to new possibilities for being in and relating to ourselves, each other, and our world. And as such, Big Wows are not always happy moments. Some of my most significant Big Wows have literally brought me to my knees. And isn’t that how we pray, how we show reverence? By resting our bodies on our great Mother Earth and surrendering wholeheartedly? It was in such a moment a couple months ago, after I’d exhausted myself with a cathartic cry on the laundry room floor, that I asked for the courage and discipline to shift destructive patterns of thought and behavior that have been plaguing me for what feels like always. In the silence, I heard my own inner voice speak with such sweet conviction that I knew my call had been answered. In these moments of awakening, I often remember these lines from “Variation on a Theme by Rilke” by Denise Levertov: The day’s blow rang out, metallic—or it was I, a bell awakened, and what I heard was my whole self saying and singing what it knew: I can. In that moment, surrounded by piles of clothes worn by the people I love to the moon and back, the doubt about my own capacity began to slowly dissipate, replaced with a resolve to speak the truth. Starting with myself. Recently, it’s meant when asked, even casually, “how are you?” sometimes remembering to pause to check in with myself and reporting what is actually within. Today, it means sharing with you my Big Wows of the past year. It’s a small step, but a significant step nonetheless down a path that I have tread only trepidatiously for fear of being rejected, judged, excluded, or admonished. But now, the weight of being out of integrity weighs heavier than any momentary heartache that being vulnerable might provoke. So, I’m sharing my list of the past year’s Big Wows—moments of recognition and reckoning—as a way to let go, lean in, and lighten up. Listening to the sounds of an Indian morning during meditation with my teacher Betraying a good friend and losing her friendship Isla losing her first tooth on our first night of holiday in Sweden with her grandparents Moving to a home my family loves Empowering 8 amazing Wellness Warriors and myself to evolve A weekend of learning from a masterful teacher and laughing with soul sisters Spending my birthday with women I love, doing nothing Snuggling with my boy as he slept on the beach Surfing with my Pal, just like old times Vacationing with friends who feel like family Grandma in the hospital and feeling disconnected, isolated, helpless The day I played hooky on my paddle board Time with my boy while my girl visited her grandparents Discovering Desire Mapping and identifying my core desired feelings Three days in Copenhagen with my honey Hearing Isla say “I hate you” A summer day with my parents and children that ended with eating ice cream A day of wandering Zurich with a dear friend Realizing how much my husband helps after he injured his hand, having to pick up the slack and feeling ungenerous and unkind for resenting him for it Watching Robb teach Isla how to ride a bike Yelling at Maverick for the first time Maintaining a regular meditation practice Sobbing on the laundry room floor Celebrating a stress-free Thanksgiving with old and new friends Arguing with my mom and feeling the divide between us expand in spite of our wanting it to be otherwise Finding myself stuck in old patterns (again and again and again) and also recognizing tiny shifts In the time between writing this and coming back to edit, another Big Wow happened. Following a brutal showdown at lunch with my daughter triggered by her disappointment at not being the recipient of the sole purple spoon at Ikea, and my ineptitude at guiding her towards a resolution, I dropped her and her friend back at school and abandoned the ubiquitous to-do list for a walk in the woods. Finding myself at the clearing, I did the best thing I know to do when in emotional crisis: put my hands on the earth, breathe, and do yoga. Sun on my face, tears in my eyes, I held Warrior II, Triangle, and Downward dog until my arms trembled and the tightness in my chest subsided. As everything does, the feelings of despair, self-loathing, and frustration passed. Left alone, I thanked Grace and turned back home to finish writing. On the one hand, I wanted so much to write this from a place of power, looking back at the past as though I’ve moved through and moved on and am on to the next great awakening. On the other hand, that’s not how it is. The reality is that I’m constantly seeking, finding, losing, and regaining my balance. Confronting the same challenges over and over again until the lesson is (or is not) learned. Or, as Yoga Amrit Desai explains: “Habitual ways of reacting and reliving the same event perpetuate unconsciousness. All lessons will be repeated until they are learned. The debt of karma is paved in consciousness.” Reviewing the list of lessons aka Big Wows of the past year I’ve learned one thing: So here I am, trying something new. Satya. Usually defined as “truthfulness,” it has as its root sat, “to be” or “to exist.” Georg Feurstein defines satya as “that which is real.” Being real. Being honest. Being myself. In my writing and in my relationships. On my yoga mat and yes, even on social media! For sure, it’s going to take me awhile to get the hang of it. Considering that I’ve spent the better part of my life carefully crafting a veneer of false perfection to conceal and protect myself, it could take the rest of the time I’ve got here. It could take longer than that. No matter. That voice within which I hear as my Beloved Guide and yet know is my own soul beckons me down this path of small steps towards The Big Wow. “[We] become out of balance because of small, daily abuses, and will most completely be healed with small, daily gestures of caring.” - Gurmukh Kaur Khalsa
This promise of the individual’s capacity for self-healing is inherent to Ayurveda, and rests on the understanding that our human body is a microcosm of the universe. In other terms, the same materials found in all of nature--earth, water, fire, air, and space--are also present within us. For my 6 year-old daughter, this inherent unity (yoga) is as easy for her to accept as it is for her receive the huge hug that awaits her every time she bounces off the school bus. Our family’s creation myth begins with the stars, and our daughter often references the time before she was born as “when I was a star in the sky.” Her six year-old mind has not yet forgotten that she is, in fact, made of the same stuff as the stars—a diamond in the sky—and destined for brilliance. For her mother, it’s a different story… As the first rays of light beckon me off of my mat and into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, the memory of my inner peace fades, and I focus instead on getting three other people fed, dressed, and out the door by 8 am. By the time that Herculean feat is accomplished, I am plagued with worry, doubt, and resentment. Instead of wondering how I can fulfill my destiny, I’m calculating how I’ll get the laundry done. I survey the silent wreckage of breakfast in my pajamas and dirty hair, take a full breath in and exhale loudly. It is during the pause that follows the end of that long exhale, that my attention mercifully shifts from being stuck in habitual thinking to wholly present. From this inner vantage point, the future comes into focus. And even if I’m only able to hold this vision for the micro-second before the next breath arises, that moment of clarity illuminates the next right action. So that as I reset our home, review my endless to-do list, and commence another blessed day, it is with the remembrance that all of it—the home-making, the meditating, the teaching, the cooking and cleaning, the writing, and yes, even the laundry—is in service of my highest intention: to radiate whole-heartedly with the light of awareness. And of course, as soon as I remember, I forget. And so it goes throughout each day and into the next; forgetting and remembering, abusing and taking care, hurting and healing. But each time I remember is one less time that I forget. Each time I enact a small gesture of self-care: a walk in the woods, a phone call with a friend, a cup of tea, a good night’s sleep, is one less time that I sabotaged myself. This month, let us practice remembering. Remembering how to care for ourselves. Remembering how to be kind to each other. Remembering that we are brilliant and beautiful. Remembering that we already know who we are and what we are here to do. And when we forget, because we will, we can sing to remember: Twinkle twinkle little star How I wonder what you are Up above the world so high Like a diamond in the sky Twinkle twinkle little star How I wonder what you are? The shift from summertime to school mode is an exercise in patience and persistence. Establishing new routines, reinforcing healthy habits, and building better boundaries can help to make the transition relatively simple and harmonious, thus helping to avoid the burn out that often sets in just as the leaves begin displaying their magnificent riot of color.
In fact, the changing leaves hint at what can happen when we over-do it. With constant activity and commitments, the well of energy and inspiration we stored up from the summer gets depleted, leaving us feeling dried up and worn out. Ayurveda teaches us that Autumn is the season governed by vata or wind energy, which itself is characterized by movement and change. When we are in harmony with this season, we can experience a sense of lightness in the body, clarity in the mind, and expansiveness in how we relate to others and to life. On the other hand, feeling unstable and erratic mentally and emotionally, constantly on the go, bloated with undigested food and overwhelmed with stuff to do is an indication of imbalance and an opportunity to evolve. Thankfully, making a few small but significant steps towards building better boundaries enables us to harness the creativity and clarity, and avoid the potential chaos inherent to this season. If alarm bells start sounding at the first mention of boundaries, good, because that’s the voice of the essential human desire for freedom or moksha, defined by Yogarupa Rod Stryker in his book The Four Desires as “the longing to be free, to experience unfettered awareness, to be completely unburdened.” However, unlike barriers, which entrap us in a false sense of security, boundaries establish structure which supports freedom. Whereas barriers divide, boundaries reinforce. Barriers promote hostility, but boundaries provide stability. Barriers—like the infamous wall proposed by you-know-who—are externally imposed blockades in an eventually futile effort of resistance. Boundaries—like the banks of a river—from through an organic process of going with, not against, the flow. The best boundaries arise from the inside out. They are not programs or prescriptions bestowed upon us; rather better boundaries are an organic extension of your inner wish, your intention, your dharma. Yet, just as the breath mirrors the natural pulsation of life which is never static and always in flux, a better boundary expands and contracts according to what is needed. A better boundary is responsive not reactive. You know when a boundary is better because you FEEL better—simultaneously supported and free. I’l share a couple of the ways that I’ve been experimenting with boundaries to create structure without feeling stifled. But rather than adopt mine carte blanche, I encourage you to listen within and discover the boundaries that will best suit who you are now and who you are becoming through this next phase of your evolution. TIME BLOCKING There’s an app for everything, and surely there’s one for this too! Instead of trying to squeeze as much as I can into one day, I’m leaving space between events so that I can drive the speed limit, eat a solid-food meal when I need to, make a spontaneous stop if I need to, or just have a few minutes to do “nothing.” I’m scheduling in time each week for me to do something I love: read, be in nature, practice yoga, meditate, be with friends, or get a massage. I’m setting timers and giving myself a limit for how long I can spend on something. Like this blog. I’ve got 21 minutes left! HIGH-VIBE COMMITMENTS Before saying “yes,” I am learning to ask myself: “Will this (event, activity, conversation) replenish or deplete my energy? Is it in alignment or conflict with my priorities?” Usually I know the answer before I even ask the question, and because I am a perfectly flawed human being, sometimes I consciously choose to do something that I know will deplete me or is out of integrity with what’s important to me. And when I catch myself here, it helps to look for how this experience can serve as a growth opportunity—what can I learn? How can I raise the vibration or, at the very least, maintain an inner state of equanimity instead of being at the mercy of the situation. But more often now, the ways that I am spending my time resonate with what matters most to me. SUPPORTED ASANAS As useful as these boundaries are in my life, they are equally potent on the mat and it’s fascinating to discover how maintaining boundaries in the body opens pathways towards experiencing an abiding sense freedom physically, mentally, and emotionally. One simple practice to try is uttanasana or standing forward fold at the wall. Beautiful for experiencing the simultaneous sense of support and freedom of boundaries. Supported asanas are also balancing to vata to bring a sense of grounding and ease to the body and mind. I hope these offerings inspire you to discover better boundaries, and when you do, please share your experience! I'm not sure who coined the phrase of the moment, "September is the new January," but I love it. In fact, September has always been my January. The anticipation of a new start, the fresh supplies, and the return to routine fill me with both an eager determination and a wistful mourning. For, as much as September is a time of beginnings, it's also a time of transition.
Summer's heat and hours spent lounging by the water give way to dropping temperatures and adjusting to shorter days with packed schedules. As tans fade, so does the vacation vibe, and it's easy to get caught up in the frenzy and, even before October hits, experience burn out. Or, we can take a different approach and transition smoothly into autumn. How we flow from one asana to the next gives us some insight into how we can move into this next season and the next stage of our lives. Here's what I'm practicing on my mat, sharing with my students, and living with my family:
Historically speaking, September is the start of a season that has been challenging for me so I’m looking forward to contemplating these inquiries during the time I’ve scheduled for personal study, exploring the topics of focus, foundation, fluidity, and fluency in my classes, and implementing the self-care strategies with my family. May these principles and practices be of value and use to you and the people you care for, and may you move with ease and an ever-expanding sense of possibility into the next stage of your becoming. Hej Hej from Sweden, where my family has been spending a fun week exploring and eating our way through Stockholm and now immersing ourselves in the local ski culture and reuniting with dear friends.
Last month, I wrote about sprouting seeds and sure enough, many ideas planted during the past year began to germinate all at once. Among them, one that I am particularly stoked to share with you is a Yoga Retreat that I am hosting next fall…in the Maldives! More information on this and other happenings is on the website, under "My Offerings." With several new projects to tend to, I have been deeply grateful to have my daily practices to rely on for support, energy, and balance. As with many good habits, it takes commitment, patience, and time to establish a healthy routine, but a minor disruption or a short break—like a holiday--can be all it takes to land us back in outworn patterns. Because it’s unrealistic—and also no fun—to try to maintain our diet, fitness, and lifestyle habits all the time, we can determine which healthy habits are most essential to maintaining our well-being and stick with them no matter what. Knowing which habits of eating, exercising, and daily living are absolutely key to keeping us feeling good means that when we go on holiday or have extra demands at work or home or face some other interruption to our daily routine, we not only withstand the change, but we flourish through the challenge. My essential habits are: 1.Drink hot water in the morning 2. Practice yoga asana and meditation 3. Eat Greens Wherever I am in the world, whatever items are on the to-do list, however jam-packed the day may be, I make sure to do these three actions to the degree that is possible that day. Ultimately, however, it is not the actions themselves that matter as much as it is the feeling or flavor—the bhavana—with which we act. No matter how many green smoothies you imbibe, sun salutations you perform, or hours you spend in silence on your cushion, if you’re doing it with the aim to fix, perfect, improve or punish yourself, you’d might as well to sit on your couch drinking beer and watching reality television—it’s a lot less effort and will lead you to the same results: unfulfilled, disconnected, and probably very bloated. On the other hand, when our actions arise out of our own heart’s deepest intention, the results are behaviors that enable us to thrive.. Perhaps you can spend some time considering which habits are fundamental for you to feel good in your body, mind, and spirit? Write them down. Do them every day. No excuses. Feel good every day no matter what. It is my last morning in India. My trusty alarm, the riot of Hindi music blasting across the rice fields and through the coconut groves beckons me out of bed and along the short path to the yoga Shala. There, shrouded in the cool darkness of the amritvela, the hours of the predawn, I quietly take my seat alongside the outlines of kindred spirits. Our custom has been to maintain silence during these morning practices, yet as I settle in, the world around me is anything but quiet.
The muezzin accompanies the blaring Bollywood track calling the faithful of this small Keralan village to worship while a cacophony of birdsong announces the sun’s eminent debut. The local dogs howl mournfully, bidding their dear moon goodbye for now and an old rooster does his best to compete with the din. Gradually, as my awareness shifts to the hush of my own breath, the morning song recedes into the background. A fresh and floral sweetness enters through my nostrils and as it exits, the silky air tickles my upper lip. Drawn in by the sound of the ocean caught in a shell emanating from my own throat, peace enters my entire being. It is for this moment--in which Awareness and breath dissolve into silence--that I am here: on this mat, in this place, on this planet. We are four women arranged in a line facing the east where the sun will soon begin the daily miracle of showing its face. For two weeks, we have begun each day in this way with our masterful teacher guiding us, but today we are unaccompanied, each woman attending to her own practice. Lead by breath and my body’s innate intelligence. Exhaling out resistance until empty of so much effort. Inhaling space and grace until full of the lightness of simply being. Receiving each breath, grateful for the nourishment which unravels, softens, and releases layers of aches, pains, and sorrows accumulated over lifetimes. For the next hour, we move in this way. Each woman harmonizing her own body with breath as together, we compose a symphony for the dawn. Later, in the sacred silence of savasana, suspended in the void between waking and sleeping, a story our teacher shared yesterday swirls in my mind: Somewhere in the Amazon amongst a people who live close to the land, young children who are recognized as spiritually ripe are taken to live together with some of the elder shamans in a cave.Sequestered there, they learn the language of the plant world and how to communicate with the spirits. They recite the stories that have sustained their culture for millennia, and though they never see it, they learn of the Sun and its importance to our human existence. After ten or more years of imbibing the mysteries of the natural world, one night they are taken out of the cave and lead to the top of a mountain where, for the first time, they watch the sunrise. As they witness the sun cresting over the horizon, their hearts blow open with the ecstasy of one who has witnessed a miracle, and they are reborn. In their new life, these young adults wander the forests where they are called upon by their people to bless, protect, and heal as keepers of the light. Lying on my mat in the dim light, I sense how it feels to live surrounded by darkness having knowledge and reverence for, but no real experience of light. And I imagine the sensations of that first contact with light and what it would be like to live perpetually in such a state of grace that, every morning, the sunrise would be a divine revelation. Breath whispers through the stillness that presides over the threshold between dawn and daylight. As we return to our seats, heads bowed, palms pressing, a tenderness for my companions, for myself, for every being who is right now praying for the light tightens my chest and closes my throat; tears trickle down and drop into my lap. Eventually, we women will return to our homes spread across three continents; but for right now, we share this breath, this moment, this sunrise. On cue with the emergence of the sun’s fiery crown, the soundscape shifts to the hum of humanity—the chatter of women, footsteps along the dusty path, the clinking of breakfast dishes, a lone rickshaw horn announcing its presence on the adjacent street. A new day begins as I awaken to everything ordinary. A routine encounter at the school drop-off the other day led to an epiphany: I teach yoga. While this may seem pretty obvious, especially the dear souls who have been my yoga students, I have struggled to own this simple claim since I earned my teaching certification nearly a decade ago.
After the dogs’ tails had ceased wagging and the summaries of our summer holidays had been recounted, the lovely woman shared that she was eager to get to her yoga class. Naturally, I inquired about it. She explained that she liked this particular class because it didn’t have any meditation or anything remotely spiritual in it. It was just a good workout that left her feeling amazing and radiant—just talking about it, she totally lit up. While my instinct was to laugh at the wonderful irony that she loves her yoga- without-the-yoga class, I sensed that she didn’t recognize her own joke so I wished her a good lesson, and we bid each other goodbye. Yoga is an ancient tradition that traces its roots over 5,000 years ago to what is now Northern India; what we call yoga today would be practically unrecognizable as such to the Rishis or seers, mystics who recorded their experiences of yoga, or unity, in the Rig Veda, a collection of devotional songs, mantras, and rituals that were practiced by Brahmans, the Vedic priests and original yogis. It wasn’t until the late 19th century that the physical postures that we practice today crystallized, building on techniques for purifying and fortifying the body that the Tantrikas developed beginning in the 11th century. In other words, popular poses like “Wild Thing,” “Hummingbird” and “One-Legged Wheel” have little to do with the original practice of yoga. And yet, both these acrobatic asanas and the ancient scriptures are yoga. While the workout version of yoga-without-the yoga that my friend takes at the gym apparently bares no resemblance to the yoga of Patanjali’s sutras, it is yoga. How can this be? How can yoga be at once an ancient spiritual path rooted in mystical shamanism and an exercise regimen? According to T.K.V. Desikachar, considered to be one of the modern proponents of yoga in the West along with Pattabhi Jois and B.K.S. Iyengar, “yoga has its roots in Indian thought, but its content is universal because it is about the means by which we can make the changes we desire in our lives. The actual practice of yoga takes each person in a different direction. It is not necessary to subscribe to any particular ideas of God in order to follow the yoga path. The practice of yoga only requires us to act and to be attentive to our actions.” Taken from this broad perspective, yoga is about practicing presence so that we might become co-creators in our own lives; something that we can aim for whether we are sitting still in meditation, sweating through a series of sun salutes, or exchanging pleasantries with acquaintances on the school steps. Though at some point in my journey I had internalized this understanding that yoga is more about how we act than what we do, I still feel at times that I am somehow not a real yoga teacher because I am neither Indian nor ancient nor literate in Sanskrit nor enlightened nor can I rock advanced poses and the list goes on. But something in this encounter with the lovely woman reminded me what I already knew: I teach yoga. I teach yoga in studios and on paddle boards and in living rooms and on floating docks. I teach yoga to women and men, to beginners and future teachers, to my own dad and total strangers. And I teach yoga to my children who teach it right back to me. Like when my daughter schooled me earlier tonight: “Mama, when you’re upset, just breathe. That’s what I do.” Yes. I teach yoga and if I never taught another sun salutation in my life, I’d still be teaching yoga. Because for me, teaching yoga means living yoga in the best way that I can right now. So when my precious five year-old reminds me of the most fundamental lesson of yoga, to connect to breath, I listen. I breathe. And I remember that any practice that brings us back to our highest and best self is essentially a yoga practice. Even if it takes place in a gym without so much as a single “Om.” Several days ago, I celebrated the beginning of my 35th year. Rising before the sun, as has become my custom and great pleasure, I rolled out my yoga mat on the balcony for a gentle practice to tend to the sweet soreness from the previous evening's 108 sun salutations. In the stillness and solitude of the dawn, moving with the rhythm of my breath, I sensed that this year marks the start of a new chapter. A few hours later, while receiving a deeply restorative body work session from a soul friend, she confirmed my intuition that I am, indeed, starting afresh.
What a gift! To have lived what may be 1/3 of this lifetime and yet be starting anew. Of course, the wise part of me also knows that this sense of freshness and possibility and presence is available at any moment. It is what the Zen Buddhists call "Beginner's Mind" and what Patanjali points to with the first lines of the Yoga Sutras:atha-yoga-anusasanam, which Ravi Ravindra translates as "Here, now, is the teaching of yoga." The first word of any Sanskrit text is key--here, now, in this moment--is the time practice yoga. Ravindra continues to explain that: "Yoga does not require sitting on a cushion in meditation and it is not limited to a specified hour or a particular posture. Each moment is the right moment and the present moment is the best one. Each place is the right place--the place where I now am can be a sacred space." To recognize and honor the sacred in each moment, this is the practice of yoga. Throughout the past weekend, I have been reminded repeatedly of this simple-to-understand yet profoundly difficult-to-practice principle: Be Here Now. Like so many insights that point us towards the sacred, this mantra has been reduced to a bumper sticker catch-phrase which dilutes the potency of its poignancy. Something like the practice of yoga which, as my dear friend Prue Klausener observed (and 5 minutes on social media will confirm) seems to be devolving from an ancient spiritual practice into a sensation of selfies posed with the "yogi" in various states of undress in acrobatic postures, preferably with an exotic backdrop. Of course, this trend is only representative of a fraction of the global yoga community, but it's pervasive and provocative. As recent joiner of Instagram (yes, please do check out my posts at mytreeyoga), I've been exploring how to use this platform to contribute meaningfully to the larger yoga community. So far, it offers another avenue for inspiration and connectivity, as well as abundant opportunities to slack off! Hopefully, with the intention of creating sacred space and sharing that which is highest and best in myself with the same in others, I can manage to offer beauty. What better gift is there? Last week, our sweet daughter Isla Luce turned 5! After a weekend of celebrating with her grandma, her friends, and us, she is sleeping soundly--snoring a little--with her beloved Santo, our dog, by her side. As I do many evenings after she's asleep, I knelt on Santo's bed, placed my hand on her back, and for a moment, we three breathed. Over the years, I've watched as the hand that used to hold her entire tiny body now covers only a portion of her princess-dressed back. And as she grows, so does my gratitude for the extraordinary privilege of being her mama and the blessing of knowing mother love. When I was pregnant with Isla and then Maverick, I was amazed (and let's be honest, also horrified) at my body's complete transformation, its ability to widen and stretch, to soften and give, to labor and birth life. Now, entering the final month of the sacred window of postpartum, I view my body's expansion as but a tiny mirror of my heart's boundless capacity for opening. And yet, multiple times a day I forget the vastness of my heart and feel constricted by judgement, attachment, aversion, blame and so on. My instinct is to withdraw away from the pain and further from myself. I wallow in my own misery and unleash my discontent on those I love best. I see the evidence of my body's life-giving expansion and groan, agonize, and criticize. I close my daughter's door and miss the opportunity to kneel, breathe and give thanks. And in these moments caught up in the impossible struggle of resisting reality, my heart feels much like the Grinch's: two sizes too small. But sometimes, my intuition prevails and I remember my heart is big enough to hold it all. Instead of shutting out the difficult emotions of jealousy, grief, disappointment, and so on, I welcome them. Inspired by the beautiful Buddhist practice of Tonglen, I allow pain to touch my heart, breath it in, and feel how my heart receives it, holds it, and eventually, releases it. If you're interested, I have prepared a Tonglen-inspired guided meditation. You'll find the link at the bottom of the page. Try it and feel your heart grow. This willingness to be with what is, to be present for whatever is happening right here, right now is the most challenging and most rewarding yoga practice I know. And it's as powerful to witness as it is to practice. When I shared with my esteemed teacher and friend, Kelly Griswold, both my desire to teach in our tiny yoga community and my fear that there wouldn't be enough students for the both of us she responded with what has become a mantra for me: there's room for us all. Kelly's embodiment of the true spirit of yoga -- a generous, open-hearted surrender to what is -- is among the many gifts for which I give thanks on those evenings when I remember to kneel, breathe, and, as I watch my daughter grow before my very eyes, feel my own heart expand again. |