Messages from the Mat

Third Time's the Charm. TT Day 1. Again. 7.14.11

2011-07-14T22:21:00.000-07:00

Here I am in Lulu teacher training. Again. Not the second, mind you, but the third. In our first yin pose tonight i felt the familiar wave of shame and self doubt wash over at the end of a long exhale. I'm not smart enough, good enough, and I never will be. I have colleagues who have gone on to be tremendous teachers, in fact I often attend their classes with marvel. How'd they 'get it' so easily?

On the next inhale I wonder if I'm being obsessive. I'm a regular at Lulu's, with a steady diet of classes, I attend most workshops, and I go on retreat at the annual Ojai Yoga Crib. And oh, by the way, I also teach here.

Reminding myself I have been teaching at Lulu's since 2008 feels like finding a surprise in a box of cracker jacks. Even after hundreds of classes teaching feel fresh, new, exciting, and fun. Today I have new questions and internal callings, some of which I can barely even admit to myself. The teachings of yoga and the teaching of yoga have guided my heart to a safe harbor while I face the uncharted waters of my extraordinary life with greater clarity and courage than ever before. Simultaneously I'm scared to death I will sink. It gets easier and more challenging all at the same time.

I wonder if there is any truth to the saying "third time's the charm'?

The belief that the third time something is attempted is more likely to succeed than the previous two attempts appears to be connected to the 19th century legend of some poor sot who survived being hanged by his neck from a tree three times. He was deemed 'unhangable' and allowed to be set free. I think the yogis have a different spin on "success" and would say at our core, we all all 'unhangable.'. The texts speak frequently about the existence of this state, and practices seem to serve to remind us of this deep anandamaya kosha, and claim that Krishna sits right in our own hearts, at least the ones that currently interest me the most.

I've had glimpses at knowing I'm 'unhangable', but it usually comes to me in layers. I am here this round in part to connect deeper to the teachings behind the teachings, to the essential nectar that has changed my life from despair to delight, from frustration to wonder, and from pretending I know it all to introducing myself with genuine ease and a grateful smile as the yogi who is here attending for the oh yes, count 'em, third time.

In the 21st century, "Third time's the charm" spoken just before trying something for the third time is a wish for good luck. I only can dream of being so lucky to be set free after a mere three tries. So I will use this as a mantra for luck, but also for gratitude, for whatever gifts come my way as I venture into Lulu TT, volume 3. It seems to be powerful already, as the magic of learning has already begun.

Evening practice 7-9.30ish

Welcome

Yin Practice:
baddha konasana, experimenting with heals close and further. Getting comfortable with ourselves
rest

pigeon or eye of the needle at wall
some theory on connective tissue
extended period of time (3-5 mins)
held passively
at appropriate edge
more mobility in the body, more movement of subtle energy

balasana

sphinx, experimenting with position of legs
windshield wiper

twisted root or easy twist
rest
other side

pranayama with alternative nostril breathing

savasana

circle
introductions
Niki, Gabrielle, Laurel, Donna, Amanda, Vicki, Stacy, Nancy, Melissa, Casey, Robyn, Kira

manual
how to get the most from training
Kiras how to get the most from this training
homework, write down what we did, two assigned readings, Effort Effect, Joel Kramer article,
housekeeping issues: food and practice

OM
Namaste

Teachings: talking in front of group, connecting with why you are here and setting your self up for success to connect with what you are here to learn, begin to build community, yin qualites of ease, listening skills-of others and yourself. yin.

Heater Man

2011-02-20T10:15:00.000-08:00

When I ran a chain of art galleries, I had a very talented, but extremely high strung employee. He had a quick, eruptive temper, that would flare up, seemingly out of nowhere. It was an interesting dynamic to work with, as one can imagine. High management even came up with a code word for these incidents "Dagmar (name changed) had a heater!!! Just the mere mention of his heaters in business meetings sent chills down my spine, and when one came my way it felt like hurricane gale force winds ripping thorugh my insides. Looking back, I don't know how I endured such high levels of stress without the assistance of a yoga practice. Perhaps that's one reason I burned right out.

Now, I don't know if Dagmar had issues with his Triple Heater Meridian or not, but I do. I stumbled upon this interesting piece of research during yin yoga training with Kira, who assigned meridian research day 2 of our sessions together. When I found the Triple Heater Meridian I laughed out loud in rememberance of my friend with the heaters. The name alone immediately drew me in. But as I looked closer at the map, I was looking at my own body.

For a few months I've had a tight spot in my neck just to the right side of my cervical spine. Sometimes I can feel another tight spot a few inches below, resting just above the tip of my shoulder blade, and every now and then on the outer edge of my tricept about half way between my shoulder and elbow. During my day it is barely noticable, but when I get to yoga class, its right there, clear as a bell. Seems I have a heater issue of my own these days.

It appears the Triple Heater is a function rather than a physical organ. It represents a group of energies and involves many organs. This meridian is the funtional relationship between the energy-transforming organs, and transports and transforms prana (chi) to all parts of the body. It is know as 'The Commander of all Energies", the "Official of Balance and Harmony", and described as 'the moat around the castle'.

Imbalance in this meridian is triggered by stress.

Which throws me for a loop. I am at a very interesting place in my life these days. I've never felt happier, and more connected in relationships to family, friends, and with myself. At first glance the data does not support the theory.

I have a few choices here. I can throw out the whole meridian system of medicine as hogwash. I can question my sanity, and ask myself if I am being delusionally happy, or I can reach into a deeper meaning. From direct experience I know there is wisdom in energy medicine, and I've been on the brink of insanity and know this space I'm in does not feel like that. What, then, if anything, is my triple heater meridian saying?

One thing about this new place of happiness is that it has taken a massive amount of energy to get here, everything I had over an almost five year period of intense self examination. Although I don't think I'm done, because life is a continuous unfolding, I am in a relative spot of ease and peace. I think of yoga sutra 2.46 "Posture is a balance of effort and ease", and am aligning to a recent interpretation passed on by Kira of posture as attitude.

For most my life I have guarded my castle with fericous waters in the moat. Today those waters are not nearly so hostile. And while this new architecture of my soul is more joyous and free, it is also slightly scary to love, trust, and live this big and be so vulnerable. It is a balance, and there is harmony, just as the healthy flow of the meridian promises. The integrity of the work required these days is subtle, so close to my heart that I barely even noticed.

Until it showed up in my yin pactice, in my neck, and in the homework for class today, It is accompanied with a clear message to keep going. Keep showing up, and keep relaxing once I've made the effort to show up.

I am incredibly grateful for all my teachers who help me in this path of opening to love, including Dagmar, the fiery-ist heater man I've even known, who has recircled back into my life in the most magical and healing way.

Savasana

2010-11-24T11:53:00.001-08:00

There I was minding my own business in savasana like any other day at Lulu’s. But this time, that initial post-savasana breath touched a place of joy so deep within it made me weep out loud. I then heard my friend Jan say, “Wow, that’s weird, why’s she doing THAT?” Another voice answered, “It happens sometimes under anesthesia”, and then a third male voice say, “Wake up Winifred, its all over now. You’re free”.

This was the Superbowl, Christmas, whipped cream with a cherry on top, most epic savasana ever. Translated as ‘corpse’ or ‘dead body’ pose, this was a savasana at its most literal. I’d just awoken from four hours of surgery freeing myself from 20-year-old breast implants and demons so vicious they’ve rattled the walls of a bi-weekly evening yin class for well over a year.

I felt my eyes fly wide open and realized I wasn’t at Lulu’s at all. Peering over me were my best friend Jan, nurse Amy, and physician Dr. Improta. From the post-op room of the surgery center, I heard “Wake up, Winifred” in three part concert.

Indeed. Wake up.

This is what my journey through yoga and recovery from addiction continuously demands of me. It asks me to wake up and do things like trust, listen, sit still, share, show up, participate, follow intuition, and most of all, to love, truly love, myself and others. It’s not been the easiest path, in fact, it has lead me though divorce, bankruptcy, and this boob thing has been no cake walk. But it’s calling sweetly beckons self-acceptance, and inspires a life of contentment regardless of any outward appearance.

The journey into healing this particular flavor of self-loathing began on the mat. This Thanksgiving everything tastes sweeter and I am especially grateful for my friends and the community of Lulu’s which has held me as battles have raged and peace has won. It will take a while to get back to the yoga mat, but practice and our sangha is closer than ever to my heart.

Meanwhile, I am wide awake today with equal parts relief and joy. And I stand a little taller, my heart a bit less obstructed, and my truth a lot more alive than dead.

Yin and My Friend

2010-04-01T15:27:00.000-07:00

Claudio Bonanni.

I have not thought of that name in 30 years, and whammo out of the blue it popped in my head during yin class last night. Claudio Bonanni..it has a beautiful ring to it, doesn't it?

It is a name that belongs to a beautiful man. I met him in 1982, in Paris, where I was a student of political science in the French university system. What I really loved to study was art, and it was during this academic year when I first began to veer away from 'serious studies' to begin to seriously study something that deeply touched my heart. I spent most of my spare time in the Louvre or the Jeu de Paume, gazing for hours at paintings that literally took my breath away.

I signed up for art history class at the Ecole de Louvre on a hunch. The museums were our textbook so we were able to get up close and personal with the art. I'll never forget my teacher, Madame Cotte (prounced Ko-tay). I nicknamed her Mad Woman Cotte. Her appearance was always somewhat discheveled, a rip in her stockings, her shirt half untucked, her bright red lipstick always outside the lipline, and usually some on her teeth. She had fiery and obviously dyed short auburn hair with no discernible style but it did draw out her intelligent green eyes. She would get so excited about the information she presented in her lectures, her arms would flail about and spit would fly out of her mouth as she spoke. The paintings came to life when she taught. I adored this woman from the first Bonjour.

There was no way I could not go back to the museum on the weekends. I wanted to get a closer look at the works of art Madame had talked about and I ventured further through the halls exploring new ones. One Sunday, in the 18th century galleries, I was captivated by small JBS Chardin painting when I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard 'escuse' followed by a string of Italian. I turned to meet the friendly voice. It was Claudio.

Great art, like yoga, has the ability to communicate, to fill in the gaps when language is insufficient, or in the case of my new found friend, non existent. His English speaking skills were minimal, and my Italian less than that. In our own way we had a lovely conversation about the Chardin, and moved though the galleries together for several more hours drinking in masterpiece after masterpiece. Claudio was an artist and had a different approach to looking at paintings than Madame Cotte. I was thrilled to find another source to fuel my art interest. (And was doubled thrilled that gift came wrapped in a very handsome package). We started hanging out in museums and cafes together. He was a tres nice guy.

Claudio was in Paris on a student visa and had to return to his home in Tivoli, Italy a few months after our meeting. I accepted an invitation to visit him and his parents that winter. When walking through the Tivoli gardens Claudio turned to kiss me. I was crazy about him, but didn't care to pursue a relationship, you know, in the biblical sense. It was all to weird after that and we drifted out of each other's life.

Until last night when his name came up in yin. I don't know what it means, or IF it means anything when this happens, but I feel this Claudio Bonanni business is a bloggable event. And I googled him. I found he is a working artist in Italy. I emailed him and hope he can read English better than he speaks it.

If he ever writes back I will thank him for being an early teacher that inspired my 20 year career in the fine arts and a life long love of French art. And maybe, if he is still sweet, cute and single, one day I'll jump on a plane and tell him myself. In Italian.

So much for yin being a passive practice.

For Randy

2010-02-15T11:34:00.000-08:00

Last week I was asked officially to join the treatment team where I teach yoga and lead therapeutic groups as a substance abuse intern counselor. I am thrilled to take a deeper step into the wild world of addiction. A closer peek into the inside dynamics of treatment is fascinating. It is an intensive 24/7 proposition because addiction never sleeps. Part of my training includes the other side of midnight, a shift our facility aptly calls the 'graveyard' shift. Last night was my first late night experience and it was scary as hell. I ponder my worthiness as a paid professional in all this.

The facility has a totally different dynamic during the night than in the day. As I pulled down the driveway at midnight, my first reaction was thinking that the place looked less like the charming Victorian mansion I've come to call my office over the past 7 months, and more like the setting of "Hush, Hush Sweet Charlotte". During the day the place is teeming with activity and energy; tonight it was dark, silent, and cold. The big California oak trees cast spooky shadows across the front lawn. I tried to act cool, but I ran all the way from my car to the front porch. My heart was beating so fast when I reached the front door I renewed my commitment to avoid caffeine and cursed myself for having half a cup of joe for this special occasion.

At present the house is almost full at 48 beds. I was relieved to hear that the evening thus far had been quiet. But then I became uncomfortable in the quiet. There is so much happening during the day I'd never notice all the creaks and sounds the old house makes. My first question to the colleague training me was, 'are all the doors locked, and is there a security system?" When I found out that WE (and our cell phones) are the security system, my next question was, 'whatever happened with D's (name changed to protect the innocent) crazy violent boyfriend whose threatened the staff?', followed by, 'and what's up the the drug gang and their issue with our client"?. My colleague turned to me and simply asked, "are you SCARED?". "No", I lied.

Holy shit. What have I gotten myself into?

We went over some policies and procedures, and for the first time in my adult life I welcomed the tedium of paperwork and the bright shine of florescent lights. The familiarity of an office was relaxing. Then we made our first set of rounds.

We grabbed a flashlight and made our way around the dorms. You have to check that the women and children are all in their beds and make sure the babies are in their cribs and free from blankets over their heads. It takes some skill to identify a body in a bed without shining a light into their eyes so you won't disturb their sleep. Creeping around on hardwood floors in Sweet Charlotte's haunted mansion with a tiny little flashlight was a terrifying experience for me. When we finally got back to the office I fessed up to my colleague. "I know this is a really horrible thing to say but I'm scared somebody is going to jump me from behind and thrust a pair of scissors in my throat". The look on my colleagues face was priceless. We laughed our asses off. It felt good to speak my truth.

I've always been afraid of the dark. I still sleep with the bathroom light on. As I dug into the second round of mindless paperwork in front of me I felt into my fear of the evening. Yes, it was partly from watching way to many horror movies, but underneath the surface is my intense fear of the dark side of drug addiction. It is a cunning and evil force that destroys everything along its fiery path. The truth of the matter is this facility is full of newly recovering addicts and the situation is a little dangerous and certainly unpredictable.

Again, I ask myself why am I here?

Last week an acquaintance from the ADS program at Oxnard College committed suicide. He just couldn't stay sober so he wrote a note, took a handful of pills and checked out for good. We had several classes together and participated in break out groups together. This person actually held my hand as I shared for the first time in a group some painful and dark places in my past. He helped me in my healing process. And now he is dead. This disease of addiction takes way too many good people down.

I have a choice. I could say 'no thank you' to this job because once in a blue moon I have to work hours when the sun doesn't shine. Or I can persevere through my fear of the dark and hold my hand out to others who today are asking me for help.

775 in my Rear View Mirror

2010-01-08T17:43:00.000-08:00

I'm a little weepy as I say goodbye to my pearly pink cell phone with the 775 area code. I feel uncomfortably vulnerable and slightly nostalgic. Its embarrassing. Blubbering over changing cell phone numbers is downright loony. I keep telling myself to get a grip.

Since the purchase of my new I phone 26 hours ago, I've been holding it all in. But I'm losing the capacity to hide from my own feelings, and silly as it felt at the moment, I let myself cry. The antidote for my heartache, it seems, is not gripping at all, but rather loosening the grip and relaxing into a soft landing.

Me and 775 have a significant relationship. I got married and was a wife for 10 years in 775ville. I owned a business, sat on community boards, owned a home and a beach house, threw elaborate dinner parties, collected art, drank fine wine, and wore designer clothes. It wasn't a bad gig. Until it all quit working. I started practing yoga to get relief; I was told it would calm me down. The practice, however, became my prince, and once kissed, I began to wake up. Soon thereafter I was splitsville. That was four years ago.

Holding on to my 775 number is a shallow way for me to conceptually stay tethered to pieces of my former life. There are things I miss. Things I could never get back. Things I took for granted. And it hurts. I believe there are layers in letting go and I'm in a zone where my heart is breaking. My practice of yoga is helping me go there with grace.

I know its time. I am ready to move on.

775 in my rear view mirror clears some much needed space in my life. It's about learning from the past and taking ownership of where I've landed and the woman I am becoming. Today is a step forward, with an 805 i Phone in one hand and a tissue to dry my well earned tears in the other.

Out of the blue, On to the IRS

2009-11-22T20:11:00.000-08:00

In January 2004, during my first teacher training, while lying in savasana in a pool of my own sweat, it came ‘out of the blue’ that I should teach yoga for recovering alcoholics and addicts. I spent the next six months wondering if it was ethical to teach to this population if I would continue to drink. When the impossibility of that situation became clear, I dismissed the whole idea and forgot about it. Soon, it got too painful to be a drinker and teach yoga of any sort to any group. Not if you drank the way I drank. Eventually I quit teaching all together. Shortly thereafter I quit practicing. Within 3 months I found myself in an alcohol treatment center. One thing I know for sure. While it’s hard to follow your heart, its even harder to ignore it.

In treatment I used to practice to Rodney Yee’s AM/PM, and Seane Corn’s vinyasa videos. A few girls began to join me, and eventually we ditched the tapes all together and I lead them through a few practices. I guess you could say it was my first ‘yoga for recovery’ class. While at the facility, my idea of teaching yoga to recovering folks mysteriously resurfaced. The first time I vocalized my idea was in a ‘Dare to Dream’ workshop we did in the last week of treatment. I still have the piece of paper where I wrote down my dreams (which also included owning a dog!), and I remember how scared I was to say I want to teach yoga for recovery out loud to the group.

It took a full year after treatment for me to even talk about it again. Once out of my mouth, however, its has been non-stop bop. Not that it has been easy, in fact, it has been a huge amount of work and has challenged me to my core. But I’ve enjoyed it so much, I’m scarcely bothered. Today I teach over 100 peeps a month ‘Yoga for Recovery’ and am amazed at the power of intention, the grace of God, and the great fortune of immense help from earth angels along the way.

I’ve wrestled with the possibility of forming a non-profit to further this cause. The application process alone is a whopping amount of paper, a decent chunk of change, and not nearly as much fun as hanging on the mat. I think it is a minor miracle I’ve made my way through the application process. It is not necessarily the ‘work’, but rather my dark side that kept questioning and doubting the whole enchilada, ‘are you CRAZY?” This whole idea came ‘out of the blue’, and into Yoga Blue, Inc? Girlfriend, you are dreaming.

Its true. Yoga Blue is a dream come true. Tonight there is something quite magical about seeing this ‘out of the blue’ vision from 5 years ago all laid out in black and white in my 501c3 application to the IRS for non-profit status. I put the finishing touches on the application this afternoon and its ready to mail tomorrow morning. All the blood, sweat and tears it has taken, including getting sober, in this moment are worth it. Even it if only makes it to the desk of some IRS agent with a big red stamp that says, ‘application denied’. As I sit this evening with a fluffy little dog at my feet, and my application for Yoga Blue, Inc. at my fingertips, tonight feels special.

Tomorrow, another chapter begins. Yoga Blue sails off to the wild blue IRS yonder. I pray for the grace to let go of the outcome with every ounce of yoga I can muster.

Blueberries on Matillija

2009-11-08T13:42:00.000-08:00

I found the most delicious blueberries I've ever tasted in the far back corner of the Farmer's Market on Matillija Street. They are a deep purplish blue, perfectly plump, and have a nectar that is tantalizingly sweet. I've been going to the Farmer's Market for three years, and usually don't stroll to that corner of the market. One Sunday morning a few weeks ago, a friend lead me over and I happened on to these blueberries. These delightful berries are one of my most favorite new additions in my life.

And so it is with my yoga practice. I'd been practicing yoga for several years before I came to Ojai. When I landed here, I went looking for a yoga class, preferably one with 1000 chatarangas where I would learn to wrap my leg around my head, all the while in a heated room of at least 120 degrees. I happened on to a Lulu Bandhas, whose sweetness changed my whole life. And I haven't done one chataranaga in years. So much for my bright ideas.

This all reminds me I'm not really in charge of anything. There is a Divine plan, and all I have to do, is slow down and notice, and to open with love to what is presented right in front of my face. Sometimes I am lead with the help of a friend, and sometimes I have to rely on the invisible friendly force of God in my life.

Trust and patience is a practice, especially when things become unclear. I can veer off serenity with fear, doubt, and spin out in two seconds flat. But if I breathe, and practice with grace in such moments, inevitably both friends and God show up and help guide me back to center.

I know this for sure because it happened to me this very morning on Matillija Street.

Roller Coaster..of Love.

2009-10-07T22:46:00.000-07:00

Living in Ojai feels like nestling inside a kangaroo pouch. It is warm, nurturing and safe, even when my world hops up and down. I feel held by a universal mother energy, a cozy force. This is a new level of comfort for me, and a new relationship with life.

This weekend I left Ojai to visit one of my favorite people in the world. My friend is an extraordinary woman, an exquisite human being. We met 15 years ago at a party in Nevada. I'd just moved to Reno from Maui; she and her husband just moved from California. The clique of local girls banisihed us 'new girls' together in the corner of the room and we both laughed out loud at the wierdness of being a 'new girl' and of the oddities of this town we'd moved to. I adored her from that very first giggle and we became great friends over the course of the next decade. In my move to Ojai from Nevada, some of our friendship got lost in translation.

My world looks substancially different today than it did when I lived in Reno. Not just in terms of external appearances and situations, but on the inside, where I am beginning to feel whole. Yet, apparently not a beacon of mental health, since I get subtly anxious when I attempt to reconnect with certain friends from the past. What bothered me the most in this case was my guilt and shame of having dropped her off my phone list and picked up chardonnay instead. How do we talk about this ride from best friends to Facebook friends?

The yogic tool I pulled to ease my anxiety was sutra 1:12, a balance between effort and ease. I followed my internal alignment instructions to make the effort to connect with her, and here on the brink of our face to face, it was up to me, and only me to relax about the whole thing.

There's a good reason yoga has been around for 5000 years. Its because it is effective. My day with my friend was most magical. I was relaxed enough to see pure clarity of genuine friendship. Every ounce of my neurosis evaporated. It was not awkward or uncomfortable even for one second. In fact, she might be one of the easiest people ever to hang out with. What needed to be talked about flowed like a duet. We laughed from the belly a lot, ate egg white omletes, sipped decaf tea lattes, boutiqued, and rode bikes along the beach. We were inseparable the entire day.

Just before sunset, we cruised our bikes along the beach, and spontaneously hopped off to ride the 1920's roller coaster. We parked ourselves in the far back seat, because, as rumor has it, that is the spot in the train that is most exciting. We were already giggling as the train took off out of the gate, and after a few initial twists and turns I realized how symbolic the moment was. Here I am, having fun on a roller coaster (again!) with Elise. In a flash it hit me how much we have shared in our lives, how much has happened in the past few years, how great it is get current with her, and how grateful I am to have her in my life. I looked down at my hands and realized they were gripping the roll bar for safety with unnecessary intensity. Glancing over at my dear friend, her hair flying, eyes wide open, huge grin on her face, I thought, "I am surrounded by angels in my life! I am safe in this world! Even on this rickety roller coaster!". With that thought, I threw my arms in the air, let out a 'woo HOO', and rode all the way back to the station hands free. You'd think I was 14 not 48!

Right there on that ride by the ocean, my heart opened a little wider. I disembarked from the train with more room and greater understanding in my life for friendship. This roller coaster of life isn't such a bad deal because I'm learning to trust Love. I am not all alone in this world. In fact, far from it.

And I am incredibly grateful for every single one of my amazing friends.

Transitions

2009-09-08T11:35:00.000-07:00

The fall schedule is now in effect at Lulus and I am teaching a new class called Vinyasa Basics. I feel like a brand new teacher all over again. I was just getting comfortable with the old classes and whammo! Change! Its not a bad thing at all, mind you. In fact it is rather amusing to watch my own mind boomerang with just the slightest suggestion of change.

I am a creature of habit and I like routine. I have the illusion that it will all make my life predictable. I fall prey to abhinivesha, as translated by Ravi Ravindra as 'attachment to the status quo'. (Thank you to Kira for sharing this translation). Desire for a steady, predictable routine is not a particularly useful life skill, because, of course, life changes all the time.

The grip of abhinivesha occasionally kicks my ass. It reared its ugly head last night as a sat on my mat preparing for class. I had a hard time coming up with a sequence to teach and I started to panic. I googled vinyasa, watched videos, and consulted teacher training manuals. Although there was a lot of useful information, it all became totally overwhelming. I literally had to unplug and go to bed. I was on the brink of feeling like a total failure in life, but caught myself mid wallow to realize I was just plain ol' tired and trusted that a fresh morning perspective is what I really needed.

I woke up before the sun, made a cup of my favorite tea, and went into the studio to prepare for class. The space at Lulu's is especially lovely early in the morning. I had a few pages of notes I jotted down from my research the night before, but instead of relying on them for inspiration, I tossed them aside and sat for a while. (Its not a brave as it sounds...the notes were within arms reach and even though I didn't use them, I knew that they were there just in case!).

I asked myself the following questions:

What is vinyasa?

What are the essentials of vinyasa?

What does vinyasa mean to me?

Why do I like vinyasa?

What are some fun poses to 'vinyasa'?

One of the reasons I practice vinyasa is because I love the transitions between the poses. Poses, in and of themselves, are interesting of course, but for me there is a richer depth of connection when I move in and out of them with intention and breath. It helps me gain some perspective on the situation as well as stay in the flow of Yoga.

For many years I have been a selective yogi, a yogi of convenience. When things get difficult, or unpredictable, I can resort to ego in a New York minute. My practice lately is set with the intention to practice yoga all the time. Not just on the mat, not just when things are dandy, but rather in times when I need grace the most. Which is pretty much all time if I want to get downright honest about my life.

I realize I'm drawn to the vinyasa practice because it is a safe place to practice moving through transitions with grace. It is not only periods of transition in my life that are difficult to navigate, but it is also the spot in my teaching that needs some attention. For example, instead of simply saying, "from Ardha chandrasana, move to standing splits", it would perhaps be more useful to say "keep your right leg extended behind you, float your right hand down to the floor, roll your right hip in line with the left, balance the weight between your right and left hand, drop your head, tiptoe your hands a little closer to your left foot, spread your left toes, rooting down through your foot, breathe the right leg up towards the sky to standing splits." Or some version like that. This is one of the areas of work for me in teaching Vinyasa Basics. This is super fun stuff to play with!

I tend to blow through transition instructions with the same inattention and lack of awareness that I treat the transitions in my daily life. Until now I haven't taken the time to smell the roses or navigate the thorns. In yoga as in life, transitions are part of the practice. It is all yoga. I'm learning to own this space, stay in the flow, and practice all yoga, all the time.

Today I am inspired with the possibility of noticing and enjoying my life in its entirety. Today I am a grateful, brand spankin' new Vinyasa Basics teacher. Yee HAA!

A lesson from Lucy

2009-08-30T13:27:00.000-07:00

My little puppy Lucy is an endless source of entertainment. Recently she has discovered her tail. She hasn't fully come to terms with the fact that it is a part of her, so she engages in a dance of spinning round and round trying to catch her own tail. She growls, bares her sharp white teeth and twirls like the Tasmanian devil. When she does this I fall into fits of hysterical laughter. Her disconnect tickles me to pieces!

The other day I came up for air long enough to attempt to show her she was one whole piece and that she didn't have to run herself crazy chasing her own tail. She abruptly stopped, and turned to look right at me with eyes that said, 'HEY, I watch you do it all the time girlfriend. Take a good gander at yourself.' Relationships are useful in revealing what is not easily understood in yourself. Even if it is a relationship with one's dog.

But Lucy's right. I've recently come to an astonishing conclusion that college degrees won't make me whole. I've been collecting them for the past thirty years. I was just on the brink of enrolling into yet another when I paused. Like my dog chasing her tail, I'm running after something on the outside and completely missing the point that it is already so. My soul is being fed exactly what it needs at this moment. I'm finally comfortable enough in my own skin to stop, stand still, tune into the present moment, take a good look around at my life and be OK with where I'm at.

I believe for me, at this particular chapter in my life, that God is providing the space to learn exactly what I need. Each and every day I count my blessings that I get to practice and teach yoga. In addition, recently I've started interning as a counselor at Prototypes women's treatment center. One hour in that place teaches me more than any book I've read in the past two years, and I read a lot. I have my mother, my boyfriend, a book to publish, and a business to launch. There is a lifetime of lessons to learn staring at me right in the face, a curriculum of teachable moments from the Divine to nurture and keep me growing.

This is an adjustment on how I view life. I've put my enrollment in this latest masters program on ice which feels like I just parachuted out of an airplane and haven't pulled the rip cord yet. It is scary and exciting; flying purely on God' grace.

Meanwile, I'm praying for instructions to teach me how to land.

Restorative Yoga TT with Alana-Saturday

2009-08-22T20:58:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning with a renewed sense of clarity, which, sometimes, isn't such a comfortable thing. For a while now, longer than I care to admit, I've had the feeling I need to make a change in an important relationship in my life. Lately it has shifted from 'maybe' to 'probably', and I am terrified.

Facing this is not fun, especially during a weekend of restorative yoga. Yet, on the otherhand, the practice is the greatest gift in the world. The relationship in question had been a source of security for me; the practice is teaching me another way of feeling supported. Its not a theory, its not a self help book, its not chocolate ice cream; it is a knowing, a truth, that I feel from within. This level of relaxation is new territory for me.

Its amazing how grounding three blankets, a couple of bolsters, a great teacher, and cool workshop yogis are for a gal who is hovering mid air in her giant leap of faith.

Restorative Yoga TT with Alana-Friday night

2009-08-22T20:55:00.000-07:00

Tonight is the first session of Alana's restorative yoga teacher training. I noticed that for such a quiet practice, there is a lot to learn about teaching it. Beyond that, there is a lot to learn about myself in the practice. Restorative feels like a meditation. I thought it was similar to yin, but its really different. I thought yin was mellow, but in comparison to restorative, yin feels like a Metallica rock and roll concert.

It occurs to me that one of the most important features as a teacher is how to hold the space for such a class. I'm going to ask Alana if her mind ever wanders when she's teaching and holding these poses for such a long time...does she ever think about what she's going to eat for dinner, for example, or maybe about when she will have time to take her car in for an oil change? How does one stay so focused the entire time? Does one get better at developing intuition skills? She talked a little, but not much. Or did she? Time and space becomes intangible on the mat. For example she held the heart opener for 15 minutes..it felt no more than 5.

Alana described restorative as the practice of being, not doing. Interestingly enough, this is exactly the issue in my life off the mat that currently has my attention. Coincidence? I think not!

Shake it up Baby, Twist and Shout!

2009-08-12T12:28:00.000-07:00

Lately I can't get enough of twists. Its coming out all over the place, in my life, in my practice and even when I sit, a mild little back and forth corkscrew action in my spine helps me settle right in. I can't help but to wonder if its at all related to the myth of Lord Matsyendra, the fish who learned about yoga and turned human by the grace of Shiva.

Or maybe I'm just grasping at straws.

I love living close to LA. I have a lot of friends from far away places, like my home state of Texas, for example, who happen to find themselves in LA for one reason or another. (Didn't happen nearly as much as when I lived in Reno, Nevada for some reason). This week brought in one of my old boyfriends from Texas. Not just an old boyfriend; THE old boyfriend. Think Matthew McConaughey meets Heath Barklay. Top shelf, grade A, everything great about a Texan man. I was madly in love with him back in the day, and I think he was crazy about me too as there was some fleeting talk about getting married way back yonder. We were just kids, for goodness sakes. I was a sophomore at the University of Texas at Austin, he's a few years older. Our big break up was because I went to spend my junior year in Paris, France. At the time, a year was a really long stretch of time. Like, forever. We'd been inseparable since the night we'd met. He wanted me to stay in Texas, I really wanted him to pine away for me while I galavanted around France, and our whole relationship blew up and never was the same, not even close, even after I returned from France 10 months later. And now its been over 20 t-w-e-n-t-y years since we've talked, much less seen each other. Talk about a stretch of time. Darn near a lifetime has passed. And this week, he floats into my life and shows up in LA. "Would you be available for dinner on Tuesday night?", he asked. In my finest Texan accent I replied, "Yeeeew Betcha!".

My vritti's were whacked for a few days preceeding our meeting. If curiosity didn't kill me, there was a twang of anxiety to do the trick. While I tried to be a spiritual giant about it all I have to admit I noodled around with 'what will he think of me now?' My being a sober, tofu eating, yoga teaching middle aged woman is a far cry from my wild ass college days in Texas. And just under that searing fact of life was 'I bet I can make him still LOVE me'. Not for the sake of winning his heart back, not for the sake of finding a boyfriend, I already have one and that's enough for me thank you, but out of the sheer hit of having somebody else out there in the world love me. Mr. Texas could be fairly easy prey since we have history. Heck, I might be able to make him not only love me, but adore me!

This craving for love outside myself is a silent but deadly killer for me. Sometimes its easier to see than others, but sometimes, it sneaks right up on me, like this time, cleverly masqueraded in bluejeans, cowboy boots, and oozing Texan charm. I'm glad I noticed before I set out for the night and got clear about this lurking thought. Well OK, I had my nails done, but that was as far as I intentionally manipulated the situation.

I am finding an incredible freedom in showing up as myself. I am finding that there is an abundance of love in the world, and as long as I am authentic, I will attract the real thing. I take one look around at the people in my life these days and know that. There's one really good thing about having lost most of my material possessions in the world; out went also the hanger on'ers. And I admit I don't feel like I have to impress anybody with anything these days, and with that went a whole slew off my Christmas card list as well.

Mind you, this was far from my master plan in life. Seeing Tim keenly reminded me of this. I very specifically recall making my decision to go to France based on the idea that I was on a mission to be a wealthy and worldly independent business woman so that I would never need anybody else in my life. Then I'd get around to tending to love and romance. It took making a bundle, a near nervous breakdown at the height of my big world I created, and losing almost everything to find out the reverse is true. For me. Love comes first. Love of self comes even before that.

It is these twists in life and in consciousness that I celebrate. These are the lessons of yoga revealing themselves.

I was completely myself at dinner. I didn't pretend I'm anything I'm not, or spin any half truths, or even bat my mascara laden eyelashes coyly. Not once. Authenticity is one of the most fun practices for me and I enjoyed every single second of my evening. We talked and laughed so much that we both barely ate dinner. We were the last table to leave, and the last two cars in the valet parking lot. He rolled back to LA; I headed back home to Ojai. Smiling to myself, 'who knows what he's thinking? Who knows if it will be another 20 plus years before I see him again, or ever.' And I cried. For love lost and for reminding me of years wasted chasing a world outside to make me feel better about myself. And then I came full circle to immense gratitude that I don't have to do that insane mating dance of attraction with anybody, for any longer, for any reason. I am free to be who I am no matter what.

Kidney Pie

2009-08-01T13:19:00.000-07:00

I attended a Kundalini workshop last weekend. It is a new practice for me, and I find parts of it very interesting and powerful. I have it filed as a practice 'under investigation'. As I was cruising through the third class of the weekend, trying to stay open to the teachings, trying not to judge the teacher or the practice or myself in the process, we did an exercise that sent me completely out of my mind. It literally thought I was going to either pass out or start screaming the most un-yogic string of truck driver obscenities, and I don't even swear very often.

I have gratefully blocked the specifics of the exercise but it was something like doing a bizillion repetitions from Uttanasana to half arch in fairly rapid succession. Of course, we were operating under the general instructions of 'move at your own pace', but for me moving slow or quicker didn't make a bit of difference in this exercise, there was a strikingly sharp pain in both sides of my mid-low back.

It was so strange; I'd never felt pain like this before. It was physical, but not, at the same time. It was definitely like an emotion was stuck there. It was scary and frustrating, severe and fascinating. I could almost hear my body talking to me with a 'yes, you've located me'. "I'm in here deep, and NOW is the time you're ready to unlock this further". So I kept moving. After what seemed like 40 days in the desert we were instructed to cease. I wanted so much to shout out ' HEY, was that a sonofabitch for anybody else?', but instead regained my composure and OM'ed onward.

When I got home that night I pulled out my anatomy books and located the source of this very specific mischief. Kidneys. And what's the negative energy stored there? Fear.

I do NOT want to deal with this any further.

The best I could do is to be aware of my kidneys, and the best place for me to start awareness is on the mat. I never noticed before but I hold my kidneys in most of my poses. Perhaps that is one reason that I love the instruction in tadasana to scoop the tailbone down towards the heels; it relieves my kidneys. It is only recently that I've been able to roll on to that part of my back when rolling down from plow, and I've noticed it is the exact spot where I freak out in dropping back into Urdha Dhanuransana from standing. I've been breathing into my kidneys in all the classes in all my poses for the past week. Not that any miraculous healing has taken place, mind you, but I think I've made contact with my kidneys for the first time in my life, and that is terrifically exciting for me.

Through this new relationship with my kidneys, its interesting for me to recall we have history. Lots has come up. As a young child I had several kidney infections. I was too young to even know what that really meant but it worried my mother with each diagnosis and I had to go see the doctor so I knew it wasn't a good thing. I was adjusted in a yoga class the other day by a teacher I don't know, right on the kidneys and I started sweating immediately. At a dinner party the other night, a very talented songwriter who somewhat intimidates me asked me about my own writing, and I shrunk right into my kidneys when he posed his question. I had to take a deep breath and straighten right back up to even answer him. I recall being very young and my father swatting me on the low back when I'd get in trouble or do something wrong. I think he was too bible belt Puritanical on some level to swat me on the behind.

Yeah, I have some stuff going on with my kidneys. Maybe I am holding on to some unnecessary fear. Not only in my body, but rather, in my mind. Especially in my mind, actually. The teachings of the yoga sutras point to that. God knows, among other things, I am a recovering scaired-i-cat. Fear is one of my biggest teachers and 99.9% of the time it is a result of lies I'm telling myself.

Its been a little scary to open my kidneys and breathe, and to not jump at one's mere touch in at the edge of my ribs. But on the mat, it is safe and my yoga practice is teaching me, slowly but surely, that I can do it out in the world as well.

Om Gum Ganapatai Namaha!

2009-06-30T16:51:00.000-07:00

I've been taking care of some old business lately and frankly have been feeling just south of freaked. Its an emotionally charged transaction; it has been like a hairy version of Falcon Crest. There are a lot of twists and turns as it all unfolds, a lot of players and a lot of ego. Sigh...yeah, including mine. I have to admit I want it all to turn out 'my way'.

I don't know what's worse. Knowing better than the 'my way' method, or the wanting, grasping, and gripping of my way in and of itself. I suppose it is mute because the bottom line is that this unrealistic expectation creates an enormous amount of suffering. I've lost my cool a few times and totally lost sight of the whole notion of 'letting go'. Asking for help from legal and financial advisors has been enormous help, but in matters of the spirit it just doesn't cut the mustard.

One of the tools I use when my head is spinning is to evoke Ganesha. Maybe because he is so fun to look at and the mere image of the deity lightens me up substantially. I've found it quite useful to offer my 'little' issue up to Ganesha to assist in removing the obstacles so that the whole situation will land as it is meant to land, spiritually speaking. Its simple, but a tall order to trust that big. Its an even bigger challenge for me to balance street smarts with spirit wisdom. Its not something I fully picked up on in MBA school.

In private times to quiet my mind, a little mudra and a lot of repetition of Om Gum Ganapatai Namaha gets me through when I just can't see. Actually more than just 'gets me through', it gives me quite a bit of relief. Namaste to Uschi's Gods and Goddess workshop. She reacquainted me with Ganesha about three weeks ago precisely at the moment when all this 'business deal' nonsense started heating up to a roaring boil. Since that time a Ganesha centered practice really has helped me recover from some very scary and unpleasant thoughts as I've navigated through a very intense deal.

Not too surprising, then, that Mr. Ganesha has come right out of my mouth and heart and into my asana practice. It has been so effective for me in the past few weeks that I decided to share a piece of it in the yoga of recovery class this morning. The class went something like this:

Heart opener on Bolster

3 part breath; finding peace and joy on the inside.

Side opener in sukasana

forward fold between sides

Cat, cow play with breath

Balasana

1/4 dog

plank

downdog

tadasana

shoulder opener with strap

1/4 sun salutations

1/2 sun salutations

lunge salutations with arms overhead one side one, arms behind side two

sphinx and cobra between sets

tadasana

Ganesha mudra

lunge right side

Warrior 1

wide leg forward fold with Ganesha mudra behind back

Warrior 111 with Ganesha mudra

Standing splits to release

Lunge

3 leg dog

vinyasa

land in balasana

second side

adding on

hip opener low kneel

pigeon

janushirshasana forward fold

other side

adding on after janushirshasana forward fold

ardha matsendrasana with neck rolls

roll back to release

ardha matsendrasana other side

easy spine twist

Savasana

It has been fun to play with mudras. We've worked in the first several weeks with Lotus mudra and I'm feeling that Ganesha's moved in. Bonus! He's got a great mantra to play with too!

Om Gum Ganapatai Namaha!

Chataranga or Bust

2009-06-17T08:02:00.000-07:00

In psychology class the other evening the teacher made a mistake. She wrote on the board that Pavlov's dog was an example of 'operant conditioning' instead of 'classical conditioning'. The mistake was brought to light because it was a question on our quiz, and most students, including myself, answered the question wrong. The teacher acknowledged her mistake with incredible grace and dignity. On top of that she gave everybody credit on the quiz for that 'wrong' answer. We all went home happy and just like that, the entire episode was behind me.

I wish I could forgive myself as easily as I forgave my psychology teacher. In Uschi's vinyasa workshop yesterday I realized that I've been doing chataranga pose wrong my whole yoga practice. It triggered a whole litany of mental flogging that lead me to the dark corner of 'who am I to be teaching this yoga stuff anyway?'

I think there are various levels of mistakes. Like calling 'right' left is sort of embarrassing, but it no longer ruins my day. And then there was the time when I subbed Stiff White Guys that I lead the wrong seed sound chant for the heart. I caught it right in the middle on HAAAAAAAMMMMM. I immediately corrected it by saying 'you might of felt that in the throat more than the heart, because the seed sound for the heart is YAM. Let's try it again'. Oddly enough I personally thought the mistake was hilarious. It cracked me up right there in the middle of class, and I was over it by MMMM. I hope I don't burn in yoga hell.

I also wonder if one can b-line her way to yoga hell by misquoting the yoga sutras. The teachings of the sutras touch my heart and soothe my soul. I've wanted to talk about them and bring them into class for a very long time. But I've been so afraid to do so. I think its related to my upbringing in the bible belt south, all that fire and brimstone stuff. Finally, however, the sutras have started coming out. Naturally. Except that the first time I quoted the sutra, I left out the word 'vittri' from sutra 1.2. Ooooops.

I come from a culture that was not very forgiving. There wasn't a lot of room for mistakes. Not only was the threat of burning in hell always looming over my head, but also the possibility of getting thrown off the social registry for such infractions as eating with the wrong fork or wearing the wrong color of shoes after Labor Day. And all points in between. I became wrapped so tight in rules that I almost died. Forgiveness saved my life. I therefore really pay attention when it shows up. Particularly when the lesson is more difficult than doing chataranga pose correctly.

I stick close to the practice of yoga because it softens the blow of self judgement while simultaneously teaching me responsibility. My practice is more about learning from my mistakes that constantly trying to avoid them. Holding back is just no longer an option. Its chataranga or bust, when sometimes bust is the option and forgiveness is the antidote. Because I'm human. Because I'm a yogi. That's why its called the practice of yoga.

Puppy Love

2009-06-10T12:14:00.000-07:00

I'm in puppy love with my new pet Pomeranian named Lucy! One look at this creature and you can't help but melt. She's only eight weeks old, black with a tan little raccoon like mask and cute little tan booties. The corners of my lips curl upward like some kind of autoreflex at the mere sight of her. To touch her feels like fluffy little clouds and to take a whiff of her puppy breath you can smell the sweetness of life itself. Its all quite an experience for a sensate like me. Lucy's got the whole lovin' package. She brings out the ooh ooh ooh in Luuuuucy!

In the midst of this love fest I've noticed something quite bothersome. There is a piece of me that is scared to death, and holding back on my full capacity to love this fur ball freely. Its little, buried, hidden from the external obviousness of the situation, but its there. In February I had a 16 month old Pomeranian disappear from the front yard and he broke my heart. There is a defense mechanism that is cased in a shell so hard that even puppy love can't penetrate it. When I get still, I can hear the real issue come up. The big question is 'can I learn to truly love again?'

Now that's a whopper. It is one of my deep core issues in life. I've 12-stepped it, read about it in almost every self help book published, OM'ed over it, earned degrees in search of it, been shrunk by psychiatrists, and shared about it with friends over tea . Finally I got tired of bummin' out over it and trying to fix it and decided to have some fun with it. I've made my mission statement "I'm learning to love again!".

I've found that for me intentions work really well. Where there were walls, I've found windows, and from time to time even doors appear. I know its up to me to keep walking through those open doors even though it can be oh so hard. What keeps me going is that every time, not just every so often, not most of the time, every single time I've surrendered, I've grown closer to finding my internal alignment with Love. PS, though, admittedly, sometimes it has looked a little weird.

My lesson for love today comes in a black and tan bundle of fur. Not a bad deal at all.

Oh! I just looked down as I'm writing the final words to this blog. At my feet, curled up napping is Lucy. I'm smiling all over again and a little closer to true love.

Namaste.

Joy Showed Up

2009-06-06T20:25:00.000-07:00

I raced to the studio tonight to teach the 6P class. I expected at least 10 students. I expected to teach a new series I'm working on, even though there was a part of me that really wasn't 'feeling' the new series, if you know what I mean.

This new 'Path of the Warrior' series that I'm teaching has several poses that are new to my teaching repertoire, which in and of itself is cool, but it is definitely an extra load of work. And tonight I'm a little on the raw side as I've spent over 18 hours out of the last 48 in an intense workshop at Oxnard College. It is the first weekend in a course that fulfills the classroom hours to become a state certified Alcohol and Drug Abuse/Domestic Violence counselor. Its one of the darker corners of the recovery counseling world. What makes training particularly intense is that as a counselor-to-be, it is of the utmost importance that I clearly come to terms in my own relationship with the subject. Although this is not my first time to look at my stuff here, and I'm sure it won't be my last, it has nonetheless made for a gut wrenching two days and I'm pretty spent.

So I open the doors of the studio, and in the back of my mind I'm wondering how I'm going to pull this class off. I took some of the sage from the front altar, said a little prayer for strength and guidance and wafted the sage to clear my energetic field. I rolled a pink (my favorite color) mat on the floor and did a few gentle sun salutations to get the kinks out. At the precise moment I'd completed the salutations, I heard a student enter the studio. Ok... here we go.

A woman who has been coming to class for several weeks comes in, and we chat comfortably as she sets up her mat and props. I don't know this woman well, but I've always really liked her mojo. She is easy to be with and I enjoy her company. After what seemed to be just a few moments, I glanced at the clock, and saw that it was 6:15. Humm....how about them apples! It's just going to be me and this lovely woman tonight. 'How awesome is that', I thought to myself.

This woman is of the newby variety. This is the practice that we did:

Sukasana

Sit

Gentle neck stretch

Seated Cat/cow

Forward fold

Deep breathing with Arms overhead

Gentle seated spine twist

Roll on to backs

Windshield wiper

Single leg lifted, ankle circles

Single leg open to the side

Eye of the Needle

Eye of the Needle twist

switch sides

All fours

Cat/Cow with Lion's Breath

Balasana

1/4 Dog

Downward Dog

All Fours/lower to earth

Sphinx

reverse Windshield wiper

All fours

Down dog

Tadasasa

Side stretch

Uttanasana w/arms overheand

other side

1/4 Sun Salutes

Lunge Salutes with arms overhead/arms behind

Low cobra and Locust in between w/reverse windshield wiper

Roll on to backs

Supported backbend on bolster, legs in supported Baddha Konasana

3 part breathing

drift to Savasana (about 7 minutes total)

Roll off bolster

Flat savasana (about 3 minutes)

Sit

Namaste

I just made up the practice as we went. I don't ever do that. I always have a plan; I'm way to scared to just let it all go. Not that I think its particularly prudent for me to do as a regular teaching practice, but tonight it just seemed so clear to go with it. It was like this woman and I were tuned to the unfolding of movements and carried by a flow of something a lot bigger than what I could begin to 'plan'.

And speaking of tunes, another unusual thing about the practice tonight is that I played a homemade CD during the practice. Just as we were finishing the 3 part breath awareness on the bolster and settling into loosening the grip on the breath, "Into the Mystic" by Van Morrison drifted into the room. It cued at the most perfectly orchestrated timing. If I wasn't so relaxed and feeling so yummy, I probably would have been a little spooked.

Our Namaste was authentic, and the woman and I left the studio; she went her way, and I drove home. I had a deep sense of calm and peace inside. A grounding and bliss that I hadn't felt in over 48 hours. I was thinking how grateful I felt that this woman had showed up to practice this evening. And then I heard a cosmic "hello and pay attention" when I realized that this lovely woman who showed up tonight...her name is JOY.

God speaks to me, provides for me, and shows up for me in the most delightful and unexpected ways, literally filling my life with abundant joy. How much more obvious can the message get? I am getting better at recognizing it and connecting to it when I let go of my big fat plan for life, relax, and go with the flow.

Soul Food

2009-06-01T12:31:00.000-07:00

Ahhh..Monday morning yoga. I was out of town this weekend and it felt so good to be back in my home studio. I was all chill and happy...until we came to our first downward facing dog. On the bottom of my right foot, about half an inch below my little toe I felt a sharp pain. I swept my hand underneath in an attempt to brush it off...whatever it was, but it didn't work. So I did what I usually do when I feel uncomfortable. I ignored it.

By the time we got to standing in Tadasana it was all I could think about. My pain. We went down into a lunge, which temporarily alleviated the problem, but when we went into hammock pose, there it was again. My mind said, 'well, I'll just go back to the lunge', and then took a giant irrational leap of thinking, 'I'll just stay in lunge all day long so I don't have to deal with it'. That's when I knew I was edging into psycho territory.

I tried my best for the next several postures to stay in the flow of what everybody else was doing in spite of my discomfort and clearly knowing I needed to investigate the pain. I didn't want to miss out on any of the fun, and certainly didn't want to miss out on any enlightenment. Finally the insanity of my mind was so obvious that I just plopped down, turned my foot to get a better view of the situation and dug into the mischief. I found a little chard of green glass from a shattered bottle of Pelegrino I had dropped in my kitchen last night. It took a little uncomfortable digging, but I finally got it out. It felt so good to remove that rascal. As I rubbed the sole of my foot, soothing the aftermath of the ache, I couldn't help but laugh to myself when I noticed the irony...here I am on the mat again...and digging into my soul. If I continually focus on what's happening on the outside, with keeping up with the crowd, with being scared that the secret to life is out there somewhere and I'm missing it, well then, I'm never going to alleviate the suffering in my own being. Dive IN Girlfriend!

When I rejoined the class, the first few poses were all about making sure I was safe. Am I sure I got the whole chard out? I wonder if I'm bleeding? Do I have glass anywhere else? Most of my attention was still on that little spot on the bottom of my foot. What good is it do the work of removing the glass if I can't enjoy the freedom of healing? It became clear that it is time to let go of the suffering for the moment. As the yoga sutras suggest (and Uma Goswami reminded me), practice Santosha/contentment. Those moments of contentment extended all the way through the rest of class, and is continuing through the rest of my Monday.

Santosha. Its seriously good food for the soul.

Yo Mama!

2009-05-20T19:09:00.000-07:00

Recently I lost my voice. Like a tidal wave I felt it coming on. First with a little tickle in the throat, then came the deep raspy noise. I ignored it all and kept going and pushing. Soon it just stopped. Shut down completely. For about two days not even a squeak came out. The timing was somewhat unfortunate as it coincided with my boyfriend's birthday. In jest he commented about it and said with a chuckle, 'Winifred, that's the perfect birthday present, you losing your voice!'. I was not at all amused.

Maybe it was a touch of the flu but the truth of the matter is that I knew deep down that something important was going on inside. I have a long history of throat mischief that is linked to a massive movement of internal energy. I take stress right in the throat and have ever since I was a little girl. This is not my first 'losing my voice' rodeo.

Yoga is teaching me to trust my body and its signals. Not honoring that ultimately means trouble, especially for me in matters of the throat. If I look closely and honestly, I can trace something out of balance between my head and my heart. And just below that I can feel a control issue burning away in my soul. I've actually researched 5th chakra issues and found that addiction is one of the primary illnesses that can result of dysfunction in this area. Surprise, surprise.

Modern mystic Caroline Myss writes that the 5th chakra is the willpower chakra. "The symbolic challenge of the willpower chakra is to progress through the maturation of will: from the tribal perception that everyone and everything around you has authority over you, through the perception that you alone have authority over you; to the final perception that true authority comes from aligning yourself to God's will". This maturation of the will business is constantly on my life's radar, and when I'm really off base, my throat shuts down cold.

I'd just returned from my 30 year high school reunion in Dallas, Texas and it was about as tribal of an experience as I'll ever hope to have and about as much fun as I've ever had, period. Part of my throat might have just plumb tuckered out from talking and laughing so much for three solid days. Maybe all this is just a case of the flu after all.

But it was the quiet moments, away from the crowds and the parties that really moved me. Like throwing open the french doors in my hotel room and feeling the heavy May humidity and hearing the mockingbirds sing. Like walking down the halls of my high school and feeling into all the awkwardness as a teenager while being fully present in my adult body. Like driving around the old neighborhood and getting flooded with early memories. One evening, late after the festivities were over, I drove by my old house on the corner of Euclid and Abbott. I parked across the street from this magnificent and beautiful home and just stared into the property. The lights were casting the most familiar shadows on the front drive and the crickets were chirping in the Texas night air. I could almost feel my Mom and Dad on the other side of the door. I wanted to run to the front door and reach to hug both my parents. I wanted to wrap my arms around them both and say, Thank you! I know you did the very best you could, I really appreciate this sweet place you brought me up in. I know you both loved me very much and I love you back!' I wanted to say those words so bad. Like losing my voice, I can't. My Dad is deceased, and my mother, well, we've had some issues.

The fact that I even felt that way is a total miracle and miles away from how I've ever felt in Dallas, Texas, or anywhere else, for that matter. I think I'm beginning to integrate bits and pieces of myself that had totally blown apart and have a refreshed perspective on this thing called life. Those tribal 'things' that once haunted me so no longer have their powerful grip on me and life is beginning to take on the quality of feeling safe and secure while moving away from fear and anger. Like yoga, this is all practice.

May 10, the day I lost my voice was not only my boyfriend's birthday, but it was also Mother's Day. I literally could not speak. I was stuck in my holding pattern of knowing what I needed to do and say but on the other hand was terrified to do it. My heart wanted to say I love you Mom, and all is forgiven, my head was stuck in 'does this mean she WINS?'.

I surrender. I just can't do this battle any longer. I choose to be a daughter of Love.

The next day I got a shot of antibiotics in my butt and the return of my voice in my throat. One of the first things I did was call my Mom. It was a short, fairly uneventful call, but I find one doesn't really have to speak a lot when the head and the heart are connected. It was a voice of Truth, and one that had taken the leap of faith that love conquers all.

Mat Moves

2009-04-22T13:35:00.000-07:00

The first yoga style of practice that caught my attention was Bikram. I loved the practice! I bet I've done the 26 posture class a few thousand times. I have to admit that one of the reasons I liked it so well was that I was able to 'lock my knee', a controversial but ubiquitous instruction in the series, and therefore could get into some of the advanced stretches of the poses. My practice and life at the time was much more about how I looked than how I felt. My whole behavior was steeped in overriding signals coming from the inside out. I did a heck of a lot of damage to myself in those days, and I'm not just taking about my jamming my leg straight to the point of bone on bone grinding compression. But its a useful metaphor. I think you get the point.

You see, I have a slight hyperextension in both my knees, so slight it often gets undetected from a teacher's eye so I never get called out on it. But it is comfortable and gives me a wicked forward fold and hamstring stretch so I keep doing it in spite of the fact that I know good and well it is not healthy for me. Frankly I've put it on the back burner of things to work on and sort of forgot about my cheatin' little hyperextension. But I got busted by Patricia Sullivan in her workshop a few months ago and its been on my mind every practice since. This time around I'm ready to deal with it. Ahimsa, the practice of non violence as suggested in the sutras is a wonderful healing practice that has saved my ass in so many ways, including quitting cigarettes and alcohol, and is one of the lessons I'm using to help me break my addiction to my locked knee.

So in class and in my private practice I've been trying to keep a slight bend in my knee, especially in my standing poses. I've wobbled, fallen, cursed like a sailor, ignored the problem, and spaced out right there on the mat because it feels so weird to build another pattern based on taking good care of myself. It brings up rage, fear, feelings of inadequacy, faking appearances, and from time to time, although its rare, accepting and loving what is. But that's what is bringing me to the mat these days. I'm starting to string together more and more moments of acceptance with my knee bent. Its practice, practice, practice and lots of Warrior poses. Triangle, on the otherhand, is a battleground. It wreaks havoc on my ankles, knees, hips and shreds my heart with the unkindness it brings up. I've taken to moving my practice mat in the studio to the corner of the room as not to spread my vibes as I work through this stuff.

What's interesting is that as a result my legs are getting stronger. Not only my muscles and joints, but also my inner strength. As I'm learning to remove the block in my knee so that energy can flow authentically, I 'm actually learning to honor and embrace the Divine within. The big lesson is that by tapping into the sacred, I'm learning to feel safe on my own strong legs. Without forcing my own will, without relying on old patterns that don't serve me, and without harming myself or others along the way.

In fact, I think I'm ready to move my mat back in again to join in closer with the class.

Namaste.

Rock and Roll music helped free my soul.

2009-04-07T19:50:00.000-07:00

This weekend I felt a shift. A cosmic tuning in my reality and a subtle but sure shift towards something that feels like I've moved a little closer to my truth. It was an experience that left me a little more comfortable in my own skin, which was quite a feat given that I was wearing 4 inch leopard print heels for about 9 hours. Saturday evening I had the privilege of attending the induction ceremony to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I don't think I'll ever forget that night.

I've been in the arts for almost all my life. I started ballet at the young age of 5 and studied and danced jazz through high school until the instructor asked that we 'get creative' in our movement. I quit dancing class shortly after that. I was too scared to show you who I am on the inside.

After college, in my career I continued circling intimacy with art for over 20 years; keeping it always at arm's length. First as an accountant at the Dallas Museum, then as a scholar, and finally on to an art dealer. I was great at valuing, judging, selling, commenting on all of it, but ask me to paint a painting? Never.

One of the best skills I learned as an art dealer was to appreciate art in all its forms. It became less an issue of taste and more about loving art for arts sake. I learned to love creativity in all its forms as an expression of one's inner soul.

I was reunited with that type of love of art at the induction ceremony. Here under one roof was represented some of the earliest roots of rock, to rockabilly, to wailing electric guitar, to rap as well as heavy metal. While some of the music was not my taste, per se, I appreciated and loved every note that was played. But what I loved even more were the acceptance speeches. The humbleness, the courage, the path of following your heart. It was the universal thread in all the recipient's words and in my opinion the most magic music of the whole night. It was much more than a musical extravaganza (well, OK, I admit when Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page riffed with the Immigrant Song it left me breathless!), it was all and all a spiritual message that said, listen to this: Don't be afraid to play your song.

I'm not a painter, singer, nor do I play an instrument. But I am a yogi. I think yoga is a high art form, and it is teaching me to be intimate in life and show up as who I am. I think the girl who quit dancing is waking up and is finally starting to dance again. Yoga is my art, and teaching is my rock and roll.

He took the words right out of my mouth!

2009-03-12T19:51:00.000-07:00

There are many reasons I love Ojai. One of them is because of the organization called the Ojai Valley Youth Foundation. Its very cool to me that our community takes good care of its own.

I feel so blessed that my path here has crossed with the OVYF. I've never had children of my own but I was graced with two step children from my marriage and in addition while in Nevada I served on the board of Sierra Arts Foundation and the Nevada Women's Fund where I did some tangential work with children. I feel so grateful that my path here in Ojai has opened into work with kids again. From time to time I get to go teach yoga at the Teen Center in Oak View. Its a hoot!

Because I haven't had a lot of experience with kids, I find myself on somewhat unfamiliar territory. Its been so long since I was a teen myself, I've sort of forgotten what it was like. I don't ever remember having the amount of energy that these kids do. I mean, class starts at 6P, and I'm winding down for the day. Not this group. They are ready to rock. I feel a weird sense of intimidation and envy!

Tonight I got to the classroom early and the kids all grabbed their mats and set them up for class in a circle facing in. We were casually sitting around for about 10 minutes before class chatting. Ryan, the director of the teen center introduced me, and them boom...he turned it over to me and class begins. I'd planned to start class standing and do a little jumping/shaking/dancing intro. I thought it would be a good way to jiggle some energy out of them before we did some poses. But I backed off of my plan since we were all seated and started class with a few deep breaths and some side stretching. Should have stuck to plan A, for asking these wiggle worms to sit still and breath right off the bat is not effective. I moved quicker than usual through cat/cow/child's/quarter dog and got them up to standing. I heard one of the tougher guys in the crowd mutter under his breath, 'hey, that feels pretty good!'. Everybody had an opinion. Everybody started talking. It took quite a bit of doing to get them to quiet down a bit and into Tadasana. 'These kids hate this' I heard my inner voice say. And then I remember when I had similar feelings when I just started One Breath, and Kira's advice to 'just keep going'.

So I kept going. We did some sun salutations and lunge salutes. We played with Warrior I, Parvotanasana, and Warrior III. We ended on the floor with wide legged Janushirsanana, Ardha Matsendrasana. I was making our way to a windshield wiper spine twist before savasana and one of the kids yelled out, 'can we do Crow?'. So we played with that, which threw the class about 10 minutes over time. Ug! Not only am I dragging this out for the kids, but the teen center director will probably frown on running overtime. I wasn't at all sure about this Yoga thing at the Teen Center. Seemed like the only person in the room remotely enjoying the experience was me.

Believe it or not, these wild child teens actually chilled in savasana for almost 6 minutes. After namaste Ryan closed the session with a ritual they do. All the kids circle up and put one arm in center. I walked over and joined in, and for a brief moment I felt like a teen myself. Ryan asked me to say 'the word' to dismiss class. "Or", he said, "pick someone". The young gent next to me, who had sort of struggled in the practice, enthusiastically squealed, 'pick ME!, pick ME! So I did. We all put our arms in the circle, Ryan gave the signal for the word, and this young yogi shouted out "YOGA ROCKS".

Amen, my little friend. I couldn't have said it any better myself.

Hip and Hamstring Heaven

2009-02-17T14:19:00.000-08:00

There have been so many gifts from the opportunity to sub Uschi's class. One of them is that I've had room to experiment with things I've always wanted to teach but never had the guts to try. Part of that holding back is a deep down fear that you will think I am incompetent, perhaps even stupid. But what overrides that fear is a deeper desire to try to communicate some things that have felt so good for me in my practice. So little by little I've made my way to share sequences and series that come from the inside out. Sometimes it turns out OK, and other times, not at all. What's cool for me personally is that I've learned from those 'not at all' classes the most. I have to remind myself of that. Often. I oh-so-want to be perfect. And it feels oh-so-good to be getting over that nonsense.

One of my current mini vinyasas from my private practice is to move from side plank, to one leg side plank and roll the top leg forward, over my head, and into Hanumanasana full splits. Its a little tricky; it takes balance, strength, flexible hamstrings and open hips. I've never put it on my class agenda because it isn't terribly accessible for a lot of folks. What could be worse that a 'bad sequencing' yoga class is one with bad sequencing coupled with poses so hard that you want to roll your mat right into the Goodwill donation bin after class.

Well this morning's class provided a golden opportunity to play with my new fav mini vinyasa. Just so happens that the locals were of the bendy type as were the four visitors in the room. We opened the practice with supine leg stretches and for the first time that I've ever taught, not a strap was necessary in the group. It was Hip and Hamstring Heaven! I was hit with a wave of 'should I veer off my plan, or should I carpe diem'. With these 'no strap required' yogis, I decided to go for it!

Here is the class sequence:

Gentle Downdog (3 breaths)

Balasana (3 breaths)

kneeling side stretch

sukasana

seated neck stretch

seated cat/dog

forward fold palms up

tabletop

roll on to back

3 part leg stretch (great diagnostic for hips and hams!)

spine roll

stretching squat

uttanasana

tadasana

lunge

twisted lunge (option to deepen)

twisted triangle

parsvotanasana (arm options)

Eagle

lunge

vinyasa (focus on back bends)

Other side

Tadasana

uttanasana

jump (or step) back downdog

plank

side plank (both sides)

Downdog

side angle

trikanasana dance to bind

ardha chandrasana

dancer's pose option

vinyasa with option to rest in DD, balasana, or headstand

other side

Demo plank variations

From Downdog

Side plank to splits/variation play

vinyasa between sides

3 part pigeon

side stretch

ardha matsendrasana

cow face

roll back to eye of needle

release, roll to downdog

vinyasa

other side

releasing from eye of needle

shoulderstand/split play

plow

fish

gentle spine twist

savasana

All said and done, it felt like it had the bones of a pretty cool class. I'm going to play with it more on my mat, and put some more words to it, and perhaps tone it down a beat so I can offer it to a multi level class. I sense it is the start of something that's interestingly imperfect. After all, its all about practice, not perfection.

Take another piece of my heart, Baby

2009-02-15T21:19:00.001-08:00

UG! Joplin's song was the theme of my Saturday. It didn't start dramatically at all. In fact I woke up on Valentine's Day morning to one of my favorite holidays. What's not to love about celebrating love?

It took a sharp turn when I took my darling little dog out for a break. We have a nice little routine now. I could do it in my sleep, right? While outside, I heard my cell phone ringing and ran in to get it. When I returned moments later into the lawn, little dog was gone. Poof. Not a trace. He's wandered into the rose bushes before from time to time, so I went a'roaming with an "Elvis come here, Elvis stop this nonsense, Elvis I have your favorite treat..." No Elvis. I walked up and down the neighborhood, knocked on doors, sure that he's strayed with the neighbor dog. No such luck. Panic began to settle in. I got in my car and drove the neighborhood, even going off road into the orange groves. I was bordering on crazy yelling Elvis! Elvis! Elvis! in full sob now.

When I finally got back to my house, an unknown van was in the driveway. Yipee! Elvis is back, I thought. A man was in the driveway with a gorgeous bouquet of roses from my boyfriend who is out of town. But no Elvis. I could barely enjoy the sweet gift. I put the on the dining room table and resumed my search on foot for another few hours. My voice as now a shrill, pleading, "Elvis, please come back". The thought began to cross my mind that the horror of horrors has happened, as we live in a neighborhood where hawks and coyotes are prevalent. My panic took on an edge of nausea. It was hard to breathe, it was hard to walk. I trudged home empty handed, devastated, and broken hearted.

I called my boyfriend. 'Hello, thank you for the flowers and the dog is gone'. By the end of our conversation I was not only minus a dog, I was also minus a boyfriend. Losing a dog and a boyfriend in one day really sucks. St. Valentine's Day massacre is more like it.

I didn't know how I was going to pull off teaching my 6P class that evening. All week I'd been excited to teach on Valentine's evening and now it seemed easier to hike up Pike's Peak. All I knew was to suit up, show up, and leave my sad story at the door. Yet there was a knowing that Lulu's with the One Breathers would probably be the safest place on earth for me in the state I was in, and I was grateful to have to show up. I made the calls to the Humane Society and hung a bunch of posters up in the neighborhood, alerted a neighbor to be on the lookout, and made it to the studio on time to set up. I set my phone on vibrate in case an Elvis call came in, and stuffed my cell down my shirt just as the first person walked in for evening class.

Again the blessings of yoga revealed itself. I had a moment to get out of my own head and serve. It was a full class that evening so I really had my hands full as a lot was happening in the room. As we transitioned to the floor I lead a chant of Loka Samosta Sukino Bhavantu, 'may all beings be happy and free'. My voice cracked a little a few times as I lead the chant this evening, as I was thinking of my beloved missing dog. I hoped the class didn't notice.

I don't usually weave too many talking points into the class, but this evening I did speak of allowing one to feel the love from the universe that is abundant, ever present, and an infinite source of support. Its the best I could tap into as Truth for the moment on the topic of love.

One Breath is a constant amazement and delight to me. It is a community class in the biggest sense of the word. This evening, Lisa brought tangerines from her garden, Charles played the most gorgeous tune on his flute during savasana, and Michael belted out a fabulous version of 'My Funny Valentine' after namaste. Most of the folks hung for a little while after class, visited, and enjoyed just hanging out with each other for a while.

Out of the studio, it was a tough ride home for me. And even more difficult to walk through the front door of my painfully empty house. I flopped into bed without dinner, with out even a cup of tea. Totally exhausted, remarkably sad, and a little bewildered about this thing called life. Yet utterly clear that I'm blessed with a year round valentine known as Lulu Bandhas.

Stronger than Sampson

2009-01-15T20:06:00.000-08:00

When Uschi approached me last fall to sub her strong vinyasa classes while she was away in India I was thrilled beyond belief. I'm a strong vinyasayer from way back, a lover of the 'that class totally kicked my ass' club. I dug into my yoga library with tons of 'strong vinyasa' teacher training manuals and notes from practices I used to attend and some of the classes I used to teach. I dusted them off and took them for a ride on the mat. Not once, but a few times, just to be sure because I couldn't believe my body. Actually not so much my body, but my mind screaming with fear, anger, disappointment, discomfort, never enough, and never quite right. I sat on my mat after the last of these torture sessions and actually laughed out loud at myself. That style of practice so summed up a lot of things happening to me under the surface of my strong practice about three years ago. I think I actually strong vinyasayed my way into a mid life crisis, spending years trying to literally shape the postures of my life to replicate 'the good life' according to glossy photographs in swank publications, not to mention following what other people said it all should look like. Both on and off the mat. Especially off the mat.

With my name on the sub schedule a beginning date a few weeks away it all hit me with a Holy Cow. I'm in teaching trouble here. I clearly don't want to teach this stuff I used to think was so way cool. So now what? I had to do a ton of soul searching and practice and play with it all. As I moved on the mat I was constantly coming back to 'what in the heck does strong mean anyway?

I grew up in Dallas, Texas, the land of the big bleached blonde hair, and I've been growing my hair out from the day when I was five years old when my mother cut my hair a la Twiggy in a short pixie (I recently forgave her for that, by the way). Just like the Sampson myth, cutting my hair in my mind was synonymous with loosing my power. For years I was scared to death to mess with my hairdo, some kind of twisted 70's Farrah Fawcett fetish mixed in with some Barbie wannabe and a dash of the Sampson myth. It was a recipe that drove an incredible emotional bond to long blonde hair. When I started making some changes in my life about three years ago when I began to realize that my life wasn't exactly working out so well, one of the first things I did was cut my 'down to the middle of my back' hair up to my shoulders. I was trying anything to lighten up! Now this might not seem like a big deal to most, but it was radical and huge for me. It was one of the first things I did to break through some very deeply held self made myths and attachments.

I've been teaching a gentle yoga class called One Breath at a Time on Saturday evenings for about a year. It has come to my recent attention that class for many has become 'too hard' and 'too strong'. This gave me cause to pause. To me, the practice is pretty simple and easy stuff. But if I really tune into the flavor of beginning yoga, some of the sequences are hard. So lately I've been going back to the basics, slowing it down, and softening the series. It seems to work better for the practitioners that show up. And its been enormously helpful for me to remember why I started teaching this stuff in the first place, which is the antithesis of the 'kick my ass' yoga club. It was like a big 'oh yeah, follow your heart and not so much your head'. This seems to work as it applies to teaching yoga as well as to haircuts.

But now I have this 'strong vinyasa' classed dropped into my lap. The name itself suggests a license to let it rip. But what's come up for me is a flow of postures based on what some of my new ideas I've learned about being strong. I think its is less of what anything looks like on the outside and more about honoring what you find on the inside, and perhaps a sprinkle of risk taking. Depending on who shows up, a variety of advancing postures may be offered. Whether or not one moves towards them, or how deep they dive into a pose is up to the individual practitioner. Listening to the guidance of one's internal intelligence is really the game. And if practiced consistently, it will make you stronger than Sampson.

Strong vinyasa isn't strong anything unless you honor your breath, the spaciousness inside, and your connection to those things. Take some risks, challenge yourself, and have some fun to be sure, but always check in with that internal dashboard. It reduces the interference in your mind so that you can get in touch with your true strength, which is your inner wisdom. The truth really does set you free.

Sweet Dreams

2008-12-16T20:01:00.000-08:00

My bedroom growing up would make Martha Stewart proud. It was painted a tasteful shade of pink, with delicate matching curtains, a hand painted antique toy chest, and a miniature white table and chair set for tea parties. The over- the- top little girl feature was a iron canopy bed, complete with about 5000 miles of white lace ruffles and huge overstuffed pillows. The words precious and darlin' come to mind when I reflect on that room. It was sweet and All Girl.

As a youngster, most nights I would get tucked into the canopy bed with my favorite doll and read a good night story by either Mom or Dad. It was one of my favorite times of day because it was one of the only times I had the full attention of a parent and the stories they read were magical. My favorites were 'Winnie the Pooh', 'The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe', 'The Hobbit', 'Cinderella', 'Snow White', and 'Ann Likes Red'. So I grew up with a healthy dose of adventure, magical lands, and fairy tales and since my parents taught them to me, I was sure they contained elements of Truth. I have been a big believer in 'happily ever after' all my life.

One of the aspects that I treasure most about the practice of yoga is that it helps me cultivate the capacity to get up close and personal with Reality. It is especially helpful for me to get clear when I move really slowly, deliberately, and take it all in literally moment by moment and breath by breath. Not in the past, not in the future, but right now. I have no idea what I look like when I practice the postures, for, thank goodness, there are no mirrors at Lulu's, so I'm learning to know and experience myself literally from the inside out and am continually fascinated with the reality I'm finding there. Fleeting from my internal vocabulary are the 'should's' and 'shouldn'ts' and more and more are the ah-ha's and hummmm's. I'm constantly bumping into self imposed fairy tales of what it all should look like, and occasionally cursing whoever wrote the nonsense about 'happily ever after'.

It doesn't get much more modern fairy tale like than a beautiful wedding in the charming Mexican village of Sayulita, and it doesn't get much more up close and personal with reality than spending 4 days with every single member of your immediate family. My little brother got married last weekend and for the first time in almost two decades my whole family gathered together. There is no scripting, no writing, or 'storybookness' to the real world characters in my story.

A funny thing has happened on the way to that wedding. When my fairytale life, my very own 'happily ever after' exploded in a thousand pieces a few years ago, I felt like I'd never be happy again. And through all my pain and torment, doubt and anguish, all my suffering and fears, something remarkable that can only be described as a move toward healing has taken place. Along this path of yoga I've found profound and significant moments of meaning, opportunities for love, and a deep and gracious calm that comes when I allow myself to slow down, breath deep and relax into reality.

Its been a long time since I've felt like I've belonged. Even in my own family. But at the wedding event, the second I laid eyes and hugged each flesh and blood member I realized, I knew in the deepest sense of knowing, how untrue that belief was. The light that revealed itself from the shedding of that crippling burden radically alters my consciousness. In the face of that kind of reality, it was all so easy and so clear of what was to follow. I totally fell back in love with my family. Without exception, without reservation. Every single member. It was one of the most awesome experiences of my life.

I'm happy for my little brother. He married a really lovely woman and he was beaming with joy the entire four days. It was very cool. And it may have been my baby brother who got married on December 6, but it was me too who hit the jackpot of love.

Upside Down? Cake.

2008-09-29T14:09:00.000-07:00

The first time I ever tried handstand was a disaster. I almost broke my neck. Like most first timers I tried it against the wall. I could not kick up in the least and instead of asking for help or supervision, I left it to my own devices. So I took a running leap at it and crashed into the wall, my legs flew up and then went sliding down the wall because my arms didn't support me. Usually when a train wreck like this happens in a yoga class there is a 'hey, are you OK?'. But this was such a bizarre crash that there was only dead silence in the class of 30 or so as I lay crumpled up in a heap on the floor. What seemed like a very long silence was finally broken by a girl practicing next to me who simply murmured a slow, deep, low guttural Woooooooww. I wanted to die of embarrassment then and there and maybe would have save my state of shock. When the instructor made his way over to my mat, he knelt down and rather matter of factly asked, 'what happened to you?' It was actually more of a statement than a question.

It is not as cold of a response as it seems on my teacher's part. He knew my practice really well, he knew I was technically capable of the pose, and he had taught and demo-ed the pose clearly. What was puzzling was that something went way wrong between the demo and the doing. And it is pretty evident that there was a massive disconnect in my body-mind. As I recall I was terrified of going upside down. And I remember thinking, 'I don't like fear, I refuse to feel fear, it is not cool to be scared, and don't be such a weenie. Just get those legs over your head'. I was impatient and defiant and totally letting my ego drive the posture. It wasn't the first time, or the last for that matter, that ego driven behavior totally kicked my ass.

That was six years and a thousand handstands against the wall ago. And even though I've gotten somewhat proficient at the pose against the wall, every time I set up to do it, a little shiver of fear and self doubt runs through my body. So I have a trick that works every time. It might sound hocus pocus, but here it is. I pray. Right there in the middle of practice in yoga class. Its just a simple silent little leap in faith that goes something like "God, I offer myself to Thee. To build with me and do with me as Thou will.' And with a few deep breaths that follow I totally put my trust and faith in God that spirit will take care of whatever happens. Then I let my body fly. There are times, of course, when an elegant handstand just isn't in the cards. But that is not the point. It feels really good, in fact it is super fun, to completely let my mind be free of expectation and with the best of my ability kick up into the unknown and just let what happens happen.

Interestingly enough, along the practice over the years, my handstands are getting more graceful. I've never totally collapsed and crashed like I did the first time, and sometimes if I'm really in the zone I kick up to handstand and don't even have to use the wall at all. Maybe I'm just getting better at the pose, but I think that maybe I'm getting better at having faith in prayer. At any rate, I always appreciate when handstand is offered in yoga class, so that when my life gets turned upside down out in the world, I've got that much more practice in moving through fear with grace.

Spinal Tap

2008-07-29T07:38:00.000-07:00

Chair pose, Utkatasana, is difficult for me. Its hard for me to keep my weight in my heels, my tailbone scooped down, my arms raised, shoulders back and down, and most annoying to me, my head lifted. In my annoyance the other day in class I began to realize what was really lurking below the surface. It feels like I'm hanging my head and hiding. Why is it so difficult to hold my head high?, I thought to myself. Physically I understand that part of it is that its just the way I'm put together. I've been diagnosed several years ago with the slight onset of osteoperosis and my upper spine seems to be taking some of the brunt of that. Damn, I thought, I've inherited my mother's spine. Both she and my grandmother have a curve in their back in the exact same manner as I do. And then it hit me like a tons of bricks. Damn, I've inherited my mother's spine alright, and I'm not talking about just a little curvature of the vertebrae.

As a child I adored my Grandmother. Back in the day she was called 'eccentric' but with a little distance and maturity now I realize she was pretty much plain ol' crazy. I laughed more with her than my whole childhood put together. And therefore it took me by great surprise at the end of her life, she turn rather bitter and cold. My brother and I were visiting her on her deathbed and she asked each of us how we were and what we were doing. My brother had just started his career as an actor and she commented, 'you know, I was always meant for the stage. I always wanted to be a famous actress. I can act, sing and play the piano'. I was just a teenager then but could totally envision my beloved GaGa as a famous actress. She had such charisma and pizazz. 'Why didn't you do it?', I asked innocently enough. It was the first time I'd ever seen anything ugly in her face. It was a weird mix of anger and regret as she snapped back at me 'Don't you know anything child? Proper girls don't do that type of thing'. She died the next day.

I've tucked that bewildering memory into my body, and strange as it may seem it came flooding back to me in Utakatasana pose that day. I'd never talked to my own mother about this converation with grandmother, and in fact have never had a conversation with my own Mother about following the heart, or having desires and dreams that were remotely out of the feminine box. Never once. Although I admit she did give me a little break and spared me from the Dallas debutante scene and only gave me a little grief for not pledging Phi Psi at the U of Texas. I've clearly broken the pattern of women in my family of college, sorority, marriage, kids, grandkids and death. My grandmother couldn't do it, and my Mother won't even talk about it.

So here in Utkatasana, a.k.a. Chair or Awkward pose, I was thinking, Damn straight this is awkward. Its hard to get my head and my heart to align. I can't get my head and heart to align because I have my grandmother's spine. And then I heard a voice question that. Or or do I? I lifted my chin just a bit and when I did, I felt a huge rush of space open from my head, down my neck, and into my heart. Tears flowed out of my eyes with the realization that I am a woman with a choice, and I choose to follow my heart even though it is terrifying sometimes. I don't have to be spineless and scared and hide from life. With that I fell in love with awkward pose. And while I was at it fell a little more in love with myself.

A comfortable pair of bluejeans

2008-07-18T21:13:00.000-07:00

I stepped on my my mat this week early one morning for a little home practice. I had a lot on my plate for my day in terms of errands and chores and just wanted to get a little mojo flowing before I stepped out to take care of business. As I started moving on the mat a straight Sun Salutation A came out and it felt really good. Nothing fancy, no variations, no earth shattering ah-has. It was like slipping into an old and very comfortable pair of jeans, washed and worn a thousand times, so soft and velvety it was as if it was a second skin. I repeated the Sun Sal A several times and as I went into the fourth set I hesitated with a moment of thinking, "I shouldn't do yet another. Where's the new stuff? I should be investigating and growing and exploring here on the mat." Am I a bad yogi for just sticking to plain ol' vanilla Suyra Namaskar A? It dawned on me I was indulging my tendency for black and white thinking. And along the way, when did familiar and comfortable necessarily become a four letter word?

God knows I've been through some massive life shifts and movements in the past few years out of my comfort zone and its been an incredible trip. Sometimes massively painful, at times incredibly uncomfortable, but always finding that in doing so it was well worth the entrance fee. I've learned a lot about fear, courage, mystery, beauty and joy and many shades of life in between, and clearly its a never ending journey. But it dawned on me this morning as I ran through numerous sets of Suns that the yummy familiarity of what I was feeling was less about the sequence and more about the comfort that I felt in my own skin. Wow, I thought to myself. How 'bout them apples?

One of my favorite old running buddies from high school is out here in sunny California on a combination business trip/family vacation. He had a business appointment in LA and had a few hours to spare in the city so we arranged to meet at the beach in Santa Monica for a bite to eat and a way long overdue check in. We haven't really been in touch in the 30 years since high school (gads has it been that long?) but the moment I plopped down into the beach chair on the deck of Shutters I melted into the familiar and comfortable. We had the most lovely afternoon together just chatting away. The three plus hour conversation flowed more like 'this is what's up in my life now and this is how I'm feeling'. No bravado, no gossip, just a good ol' fashion heart to heart. Of course there were the usual dips back into high school memories, met usually with shrieks of laughter with 'its amazing we didn't die doing some of that wild and crazy stuff'. But for the most part it was all about two long time Texan buddies hanging in the ocean view. It was familiar and comfortable and a huge gift to reconnect with him.

As I drove up the PCH back to Ojai the sun was setting and the beauty of the California coast was magnificent. I didn't turn on the radio, I didn't pick up my cell phone I just cruised into the sunset smiling all the way home basking in the light of having enjoyed the most familiar and comfortable afternoon with my treasured friend Michael.

Luggage and the Trip of Life

2008-07-11T06:24:00.000-07:00

There is a really neat organization in Oxnard that serves young adults ages 18-26 where I've grown quite fond of these new people in my world. I'd probably never have met them in the course of my life, and once again, it is yoga that has opened a new door, a new experience, new people, and new opportunities to connect with the human race in a meaningful way. I get to teach there every few weeks for an hour and its a blast.

In the state of California if you land in the 'system' as a teenager, whether it be jail or foster homes, at the legal age of adulthood (18), you are turned out into the world. I don't know very much about the system, but I suspect that it doesn't exactly prepare one for the world. I know for me, whose upbringing in the big scheme of things could be described as cushy, it was a very bewildering time of transition. When I graduated high school I was given a set of fancy luggage, an airplane ticket, and college tuition. Don't take me wrong, I was thrilled about it, but the clear unspoken message of 'hit the trail of life and now you're on your own' was shocking. We all have baggage of one kind or another at the pivotal transition into the world, and I think its pretty cool I get to work with these folks at this stage in their life.

Yoga is a great leveler of life because it brings up whatever it brings up. These young adults have never done yoga before so they don't know the rules of the game. Which is great for a new teacher like me especially since I'm sorting through all kinds of old internal tapes of what yoga and teaching yoga should look like. I've only gotten as far as coming to the classroom as open, available, full of love as possible and a handful of tried and true postures that I've developed some sort of vocabulary to communicate. These young peeps don't know that in a 'usual' yoga class that you keep your thoughts to yourself and practice in silence. For most of my life, I've kept my thoughts locked in my head and it has been a particular joy to watch and allow what comes up in the youth practice come right out of their mouths. This is probably a big 'yoga no-no' but in the initial stages of working with these peeps it seems very appropriate. So the first half or so of class is quite conversational, then it starts to quiet down a bit, and by savasana, they are all still, calm, silent, and soaking in their own bliss. The teaching experience is so sweet that I cry every time.

As different as my life experiences were at their age, I am reminded of having been completely curious about things and people. Yoga is a volunteer class in this facility so those who show up do so with the great questions. Like 'do guys do yoga?' "will yoga help me lose weight?', 'is yoga religion?' 'do I have to wear special clothes?' 'is yoga expensive where you teach in Ojai?". I know a lot of very smart worldly adults that have these same questions but are afraid to ask. These peeps just put it right out there and I dig that about them.

What has been really interesting territory are the questions they ask about me personally. Like 'why do you do yoga?", 'are you a vegetarian?" 'do you believe in God?'. I'd challenge even the most experienced yoga teacher to answer these questions while offering a seated spine twist. Yesterday my favorite was 'are you eco-friendly?'. I answered, "I'm learning, I think it is important, and I'm getting better". She responded, 'I thought so. I could tell from your purse. You made it from a recycled baby blanket, right?". I laughed so hard I fell out of downward dog. This observant young lady was commenting about my Betsey Johnson designer handbag. "Not exactly", I said carefully skirting the real story in an effort to advocate for Mother Earth. She actually had a brillant interpretation of my fuzzy white purse with purple horseshoes and pink hearts and I still crack up every time I look at it.

We closed the practice with a moment in seated cross legged, and hands in prayer at the heart. One of the girls asked if she could pray. I nodded 'yes'. The most beautiful prayer of thanks for her grandmother and for the director of the facility came out of her mouth. I suggested we all silently offer our prayers of thanks. Included in mine was an immense thank you to the universe for sending me out in the world with my fancy high school graduation luggage and somehow making my way to that very moment to share in yoga with these new beautiful angels in my life.

Namaste.

Bright lights, big city, and bakasana

2008-07-01T08:26:00.000-07:00

I flew out to Chicago a few days ago to visit my boyfriend. He's away from California on tour all summer and had a few days off in between shows and as luck would have it, I had a break in my schedule. He graciously offered to send me a ticket to join him in Chi town. The trip was an unplanned and unexpected delight. It all sort of came about last minute.

You might say that I'm a disciplined and regimented person. I'm a planner. Seven years of practicing yoga has mellowed me considerably, but interestingly enough it is through teaching yoga that I'm really learning to be less rigid. I think one reason that One Breath is such a breakthrough experience for me is because it is the first time that I've taught where I don't follow a strict series. On one hand it takes a lot of planning, but on the other hand, it leaves space wide open to take opportunities that present themselves. Kira helps me design the blueprint of the classes and during training we were encouraged to tap into the energy of the class and riff off of that. In last Saturday's One Breath class I had a wonderful experience in trying that out.

I taught Bakasana, a challenging pose for new and seasoned practitioners alike. We played for a few moments with the pose with a lot of variation on how far people got into it. I sensed an air of frustration so I decided to break from my 'plan' and roll them on to their backs and put them into Bakasana in supine. Its a lot easier and everybody could get it. It was a big crowd pleaser and it got everybody on the same page again and we flowed as one class the rest of the practice. For me teaching is a big lesson in being in the moment and taking chances in the mystery of the unexpected. It is a grand opportunity for me to practice true intimacy.

Last night in Chicago our lovely friends Sandy and Paul took me and boyfriend to the White Sox game. It was exceptionally thrilling to be sitting just a few rows up on the line between third base and home. I mean you could see the whites of the players eyes. It took me a while to settle in with the players. Part of me felt like a two time lover stepping out on my home team, the Texas Rangers. Some sort of weird loyalty throw back to my Texan roots. As I sat there shelling ballpark peanuts and pondering why a 30 year old attachment was still alive and kicking, I started to hone in on the energy of the players. I started to connect the idea that these guys are all yogis in White Sox uniforms. They have the blueprint of the game, but are totally in the moment. Then I heard the bat crack. Swisher hit a home run. Not only a home run but it was a grand slam. The faces of the players, the revelry of the crowd, the whole stadium went crazy and for a few glorious moments we were all one. Well, I'm not sure the opposing team was all that thrilled, but you get my point.

What's funny about this experience is that I'm not a huge baseball fan. But when that grand slam took place I was screaming, jumping up and down, and high five-ing as if I'd just done full splits with a backward bend. I was full on in the moment and in the flow of life around me. I was practicing yoga and there was no yoga mat for miles around. It don't think I could have planned a more exciting evening. Or, for that matter, an exciting life. I'm so grateful to the practice of yoga for teaching me to go with the flow so I can appreciate life in its entirety, from teaching Bakasana to observing a baseball game and all the random and unplanned moments in between.

Two Sides of the Same Coin

2008-06-28T07:24:00.000-07:00

Patricia Sullivan is in town teaching a workshop on the sacral belly. She opened the workshop by showing us a skeletal model of the spine and pelvis. I'd never looked at the sacral bone; is quite a fine piece of machinery. She then proceeded to show us how it moves. Whoa! Hold everything! I'd always heard that bone doesn't move. I couldn't wait to get on the mat and in my body and check it out for myself. She offered a simple exercise in quarter dog where you isometrically spread your hip bones apart and scoop the tailbone under. Low and behold, I felt my sacrum move. It was such a big ah ha that it almost knocked me off my mat. We checked in the other direction by pressing the front of the hip bones towards each other and tilting the tailbone up. Holy cow quite literally. Here I was in cow stretch totally having a religious experience in feeling my sacrum move. My whole universe shifted as I blew through a firmly held belief I'd held for so long as Truth.

As we proceeded through the practice initiating movements from the sacrum, I experienced a whole new groove in the practice and new places I've never been before. I began to wonder if I was teaching my body to move differently, or if my body, in particular, my sacrum was teaching me? Who's the student and who's the teacher? And in the end, does it really matter?

Its interesting that all this came up when working with the sacrum. This area of the body is home to the second chakra, the chakra of relationships. As I am learning new places in my body and a new relationship with myself, I am learning that all the relationships in my life have spiritual value. From the most casual to the most intimate, they all are teaching me to grow in awareness.

Smack in the middle of all this teacher/student confusion in my head came a rather inpromptu opportunity to teach yoga to a class of PKE MBA students at Pepperdine University. I graduated from the program in 2001 and still carry many of the lessons and the relationships from the program in my hip pocket and draw from them all the time. One of the most powerful lessons I learned there was not so much about how to read a balance sheet, create a business strategy, or develop a marketing plan, although I find them quite useful, but one of the biggies for me was simply how to breath. I learned that from Dr. Wayne Strom in one of our first Pepperdine classes. You might say that Wayne was my first yoga teacher cleverly disguised as a business school professor. Dr. Strom is one of the giant teachers in my life and a role model who I've held in high respect since the first time I met him. It was such an honor and an incredible experience to come back to the PKE program in the role of a teacher. As a yoga teacher, of all things. With Professor Strom! It was such a surreal twist of fate it almost took my breath away!

In spite of arming myself with a class blueprint plan, as I was driving down to Pepperdine I was sort of nervous about teaching. It started with 'what if I forget the sequence, what if I jumble my words" and started heading south fast to 'what if they hate me and Wayne sends me packing in a straight jacket". It is a peculiar brand of anxiety that only prayer can relieve and I didn't stop praying until I walked into the university. It was truly a 'let Go and let God' moment.

One of the most interesting personal highlights was experiencing the blurred lines in the student/teacher relationship. It was the elegance and grace with which Wayne greeted me and turned over his class to me. He sort of melted into the background as I stepped forward to teach yoga. But Wayne's not the type of guy that ever really disappears. His light is so strong and so powerful that just being in his presence you just can't help but to stand in your Truth and be who you really are. As I was teaching yoga I was simultaneously taking this lesson in; it was a constant energetic flow of student/teacher and on a more real level, humans interacting with humans.

The main point I wanted to get across to the PKE'rs was through the gentle practice, to give them the space to let them feel into their bodies, feel what it feels like to be themselves, and honor whatever comes up. The practice was a backdrop in moving and breathing into different shapes, or asanas, and many of the students had never done that before. As a teacher I was moving in space in my own way in a place where I've never been. From time to time during the practice I'd glance over at Wayne whose mere presence seemed to suggest the very lesson I was seeking to teach. Just be yourself. In the warmth of his spirit, I found this surprisingly easy to do.

It occurs to me that whether its a sacrum, admired professor, doctor, lawyer or indian chief that all relationships serve to help me become more conscious and grow as a person. Its easier to see, however, if I release my compulsion to judge what happens and who has value and instead focus on honoring the people and the task directly in front of me. If I show up in life and honor all my relationships, doesn't that always make me the student?

Just as I've learned to sincerely bow my head in reverence in the practice of yoga to all my teachers, and my teacher's teachers, I am learning to bow energetically to all those in my life in a sense of connection. Bottom line, its all God.

Descending with Grace

2008-06-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

Many things in my practice of yoga defy all logic. Take, for example, Urdhva Dhanurasana. Upward facing bow. I can UD all day long from the ground up. I can even do it with one leg up in the air. But doing it from standing and bending backward into it, that's a whole other ball of wax. There's a spot when I'm about a 10 inches from touching down that I full on panic. The first few times I tried this it was somewhat amusing, and to be honest the adrenaline rush gave me a nice little buzz. But I've been practicing this move for over a year and the fun buzz has long worn off. In fact it really frustrates me and from time to time, it really pisses me off. It is just not logical at all. I think I know this pose. I know how it should all turn out. But my experience in working with this pose tells me quite the opposite. There are 10 inches of mystery from my fingertips to the floor. I don't want to experience any of it. I just want to land in the pose. It all sounds and feels less like yoga and more like yet another manifestation of an attachment disorder.

I'm super hard on myself for thinking this way. I know that yoga is not about the pose. Heck I teach that yoga is not about the pose. But when it comes to backbending all the way down, I'm a poser wannabe to the max. That's probably one reason that I struggle with this move so much. Its incredibly uncomfortable to be aware that I'm doing that and I question my mental health sometimes because its really hard to stop. There's a very illogical piece of me that thinks that accomplishing this pose will magically fix my life. Is that whacked or what? I was pondering this brainblock this morning and in comes a clue in the form of an email from my buddy Neal.

He is an amazing guy, my friend Neal. For fun, he climbs mountains. Big ones. He recently returned from a trip to Denali. It was his second attempt to summit and he's been preparing for four plus years. He's in top physical condition and has all the smarts and skills to do it. Above all, he's got the the spiritual maturity in his attitude of 'it will happen if its meant to happen'. As much as he wants to summit he's really not attached to it. And, as it turns out, on this last trip he developed a cough in base camp and decided to turn back before the climb intensified. Naturally he is a little disappointed and frustrated, but as he wrote in his email, "I know I made the right choice and at least I've come back with some good stories to share". My dear friend Neal has never stepped foot onto a yoga mat, but is one of the most beautiful yogis I know.

I now have nicknamed backward bending into Urdhva Dhanurasana my Denali pose. I open my heart wide into the journey of a back bend and as I stretch my fingers towards the earth I breathe into descending with grace. I haven't yet landed in the pose; those 10 inches might as well be as big as Mt. Denali, but I have learned to enjoy the journey again. Thanks Neal!

Crane pose rocks my world

2008-06-22T06:12:00.000-07:00

There is a really cool yoga move from Sirsasana II to Crane. Its one of those hit and miss things for me. Sometimes I can do it, and other times I get stuck and sometimes I fall flat on my ass. Yesterday in training I was asked to demo it and I froze. I know one of the ingredients for tilting back for me is to relax the tip of my tailbone. The root chakra. The chakra that governs, among other things, birth, survival, and independence. It is described as the gateway to human connection on earth. This was one of the last poses we worked on in our training together. Honestly I think what was holding me back in the pose was that the heavy realization that this extraordinary pod of training peeps was literally moments away from graduation. I was holding on to those last precious moments with all the energy I could muster. I mean, a crane couldn't have pried me into crane pose. I didn't want to let go.

Interestingly enough it was this very move that about a year ago propelled me forward to even step onto the teaching path. For over five years I'd been thinking that I wanted to teach yoga for recovery. Of course step one was to find recovery for myself, a huge detail that kicked my ass until January 07. Even in sobriety it took me about a year to even verbalize my idea to anyone. That's a really long time to keep your heart's desire locked in. So here I was in Kira's yoga class one morning, practicing the Sir II to Crane move and I got stuck. Kira in her most amazing and lovely way just sat right next to me and whispered 'just keep going, relax, keep going' and whammo, I tilted back and balanced in crane. When I went home after practice that day I knew I clearly had a choice. I could either keep my dream of teaching yoga for recovery locked in my heart or I could 'keep going' somehow, someway.

That was it. I just couldn't keep it inside a minute longer. So over lunch that day I told my boyfriend that I wanted to teach. He listened to me ramble on with "I have this dream of what I want to do but I'm so scared. I don't know how, I don't know if I can do it, its a crazy idea, but this dream won't go away and I don't know what to do about it." I told him I had landed in crane pose because I finally heard 'just keep going' and I felt it was a message bigger than a pose. That raised his eyebrows a bit, but he just sat and patiently listened, not saying a word. After a long silence he just looked at me and said, "Rock on, baby". Code for follow your heart and trust the universe.

Mystic messages aside, I was still baffled on how to proceed. I knew I loved Kira and how she teaches so about a month later I innocently asked her about her upcoming teacher training. I swear, once you put your heart's intentions out in the universe, it doesn't allow you to get away with crap. Especially when your talking to an angel. Kira's big brown eyes gazed right into mine and she asked, 'what's this really all about?'. I froze in fear, did a quick energy check, and just knew it was totally safe to share. Everything. Including my less than yogic side of drug abuse and recovery, divorce, and desperate climb back into life. Come on, this isn't the stuff one discloses in the same breath as 'and I want to teach yoga'.

"Start teaching", she said." If you'd like, do it at Lulu's." When I started in on the 'I don't know how, I'm scared, blah blah blah" she lovingly offered, "I support you and I'll help you every step of the way". And true to her word she's done that. She's been by my side and in my heart ever since. And that's exactly how One Breath at a Time made its way out into the world.

That was six months ago. 17 One Breath classses, and one amazing 10 day workshop and I'm still just beginning to play with rolling into Crane. And just like crane pose, sometimes teaching flows smoothly, sometimes I get frozen and sometimes I fall on my ass. But that's the small details. Asking for help, following my heart, going after my dreams is a much bigger trip altogether. I've found, however, that its not scary and lonely after all. In fact I've met some extraordinary people along the way and developed relationships that rock my soul. For me, that's yoga at its finest.

My dog, my guru.

2008-06-19T07:44:00.000-07:00

Our homework for today is to design a practice from start to finish. In starting a project like this I usually just dive right in. But today I did something different. I sat on my mat, closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths and prayed for guidance. Then I just sat for a while and listened.

It would be fun to report that some great bolt of inspiration struck me but the truth is I popped back into reality because my little dog Elvis jumped on me. He was like a little cosmic alarm clock saying 'Lets get on with this sister'. I love my dog. He always makes me smile. I reached over and swept him into my arms and hugged him close. Smiling, hugging, connecting with this little creature put me in a lovely state of mind to start the homework. My dog, my guru.

This is more than a homework assignment. I am designing the practice bearing in mind the class I teach on Saturdays called One Breath at a Time. After the opening when I got to Tadasana I was working on what to do to get them centered and focus on the breath. I heard a voice within say "Do the OM!". Another voice answered, "no way". I've been teaching One Breath since January and I've always steered clear of any chanting. Why? Because I'm afraid I'll open my mouth and sound like an idiot. But Om-ing feels really good and it is so yummy for opening the 5th chakra. What good is it to hold that practice back from the beloved One Breathers? How scary can it really be? After all, the whole experience of teaching One Breath at a Time has been a push through fear. Why stop at OM?

I am so grateful to the participants of One Breath at at Time. They are the source of my courage to teach. I never would have endeavored into the teaching path with quite this much heart without them. I am grateful to all the gurus who have passed on the practice of chanting OM. I am grateful to Kira for guiding and nurturing me in so many ways on and off the mat. I am grateful to my new friends in training who show up with courage and big hearts. And I'm grateful to my guru dog for reminding me to smile as I work through all this today.

Grey Gray Matter

2008-06-18T09:05:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's asana practice was most delightful. We spent the first half of class doing sun salutations in the flavor of a combined effort of the group. Different students were called to teach their own version of the salutation. And each salutation looked, sounded, and felt different. Honestly they were all really good. Even as I write this I hate to label it as good or bad. It is as nondescriptive as saying a particular version was black or white. Maybe a better way to put it is to say it was more like a mixed rainbow of colors. From my years in the art business and looking and critiquing paintings it was a firmly held belief that when your mix all the colors up it turns to grey, which produced a muddled, 'bad', or undesirable effect. And sometimes that was true. But sometimes it produced something very interesting, and from time to time, surprisingly genius. There! Those are the words I'm looking for. Each of the sun salutations was interesting and surprisingly genius.

The second half of practice was taught by Kira. She taught a series of deep hip openers, including some interesting work in Frog. For me, Frog is a 'bad' pose. It hurts my ankles and my knees and triggers my emotional vulnerability. When we started heading in that direction my mind did a little 'I hate this pose. It scares me' but my experience in the practice was actually quite nice. Reconciling in my mind 'bad' pose, 'good' experience gives me pause to think. It serves to challenge my black and white thinking about yoga and embrace the grey. And grey is a blend of colors and exists in all forms of art. At this particular time in life, yoga feels more like art than anything.

How does this apply to teaching yoga? To me none of it is completely clear, in fact my whole belief system is undergoing a reality check and my brain's gray matter feels like it's in a blender concocting a grey that is totally foreign but on the other hand utterly familiar. Its kind of a cool place to hang actually.

So yesterday when I taught upward facing dog in my sun salutation I experienced a slight disconnect not only in the flow but also in my words. I used that pose because that's what is done in traditional sun sals. I didn't kill anyone doing it, but for my flow and bearing in mind the peeps who show up for One Breath, its not a smooth fit. Some kind of low cobra thing is much more appropriate I feel. It's a grey area and I'm looking forward to getting on the mat to explore and play with that a bit more.

I'm getting less attached to 'good' and 'bad', 'right' or 'wrong'. But its a hard thing to let go of when it comes to teaching. I have a lot of unexamined 'truths' I've picked up in the practice of yoga that frankly are a little scary to confront.

There's a quote in the manual that resonates with me today. Buddha said, "Believe nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason an your own common sense."

Scratching the Surface

2008-06-18T08:30:00.000-07:00

The biggest thing that happened in training today didn't take place in the training room at all. It is only day 4 but already what seems like a lifetime of lessons are coming up. Big Stuff. Like 'who am I?' , 'what do I really want to teach?', What am I here in this life and in this moment to learn?' Can I dare to tune into the darkness and the light as my greatest resource for sharing?' What's this training really all about for me? Its all much bigger than Downward Facing Dog pose, that's for sure.

Kira has been quoting Rilke in her classes and in training. "Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves." I've been trying to practice that wisdom a lot lately. I placed my questions in my God Box this morning and away to training I went.

An hour or so into training a very official looking policeman appeared at the back door looking for Wilson Addi. He snapped me right out of my focus on our discussion of Surya Namaskar and quite frankly scared the crap out of me. Lesson number One. Breathe when you are freaked out.

Breathing totally helped. Anyway the cause for all the bruhaha was that when parking at the studio this morning I had pulled my car into the bumper or a parked SUV and scratched it. The owner was very upset. Now I'm not much of a 'car person' so at first it was really hard to understand why she was so angry. It was just a little scratch in the surface of the paint, after all.

I was thinking, this is a lot like finding compassion for someone in what I think is an 'easy' pose. I intuitively knew that suggesting that 'with a little buffing I think that scratch will come right out' would be as unhelpful as insisting to a student struggling with tight hamstrings and calf muscles to press their heels into the floor in Down Dog.

Hummmm. Maybe all this has a lot to do with Downward Dog after all. I'm learning that to teach a posture effectively is to do so with compassion. Look at the student and listen. Let them be themselves and let the postures find them. How do you do that? It seems to me that it all starts with being grounded and centered in myself and holding an energetic space to let people express what they need to express. Heels don't touch the floor, no problem. Scratch on your bumper, yeah, that's not cool. It was a lovely SUV. I caught that lady's drift. Listen to her anger, accept responsibility, apologize, and assure her that I would pay for the damage. I did that, I meant it and created that space from my heart.

When I returned home after training that day I took a moment to sit down and breath deeply. Relaxed and centered I picked up the phone and called the lady to apologize again and reassure her I would pay for the damage. For me, I just really needed to reconnect with her.

She met me on the phone with complete calm reconnection too. Indeed, her husband was able to buff the scratch out. "Don't worry about it after all", she said. I could have kissed her! Not so much because she let me off the hook on repainting her bumper, but because she taught me a lot about the beauty of compassion. That was an amazing lesson and I'm learning how to practice it both on and off the mat. And I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm just scratching the surface on my compassionate journey.