Shed Some Skin

One of my besties, Cheryl, said to me "Have you ever gone to a Korean spa?" to which I replied, "No!" So on a recent trip to San Francisco, the two of us headed to the spa for a "scrub and rub", an 80-minute exfoliating and massage service. I had no idea what to expect and was treated by what I now affectionately call my 90 pound, 70-year old Korean ninja body worker named Helen. As I was laying on the table, I felt something under my hands and thought to myself, "I wonder why there's sand on the table?" before I realized that what I was feeling was my own skin that had been sloughed off. As the treatment proceeded, it continued to get better and better. Exfoliation in any place that could be exfoliated, warm oily massage, fresh grated cucumber face mask and finally, a rinse off with warm milk. Not only did I want to tuck Ninja Helen under my arm and carry her home with me, but I felt deeply relaxed, cared for and almost sparkly! Shedding skin was not only skin deep but reached into that place of what it feels like when we take care of ourselves and allow others to support us in the process.

That same weekend, another friend that I visited had been having a challenging time with work and personal relationships. I suggested that a trip to the Korean spa and taking a layer off might make her feel better. She said, "yes, just like a snake shedding its own skin, maybe I need to do that too!". And all of this has led me to my thought of the week, that of what it means to shed our skin. 

Sometimes, it's an actual physical process in that we lose skin cells and hair daily, and other times it's a metaphor for our own process of transformation and growth. If we connect to the natural environment, it's shedding its skin constantly. Think about trees dropping their leaves and outgrowing their bark; hawk's moulting and losing their feathers; beach sands shifting and changing the shape of the shoreline. Nature has an inherent cycle of dropping the old to bring in new growth and regeneration.

We are heading to Mission Beach in Far North Queensland, Australia in a couple of weeks, where I'll be running my sixth yoga retreat at Sanctuary. As you approach Sanctuary, you drive up and over a hill, getting an expansive view of the Coral Sea and at the place where the road takes a right toward the retreat center, there's a path that meanders down to the beach. And although all of this is a familiar scene, each time I've arrived, it looks slightly different. The beach has changed just a bit, a new stream has either grown or subsided and the rainforest canopy continually shifts from the previous years. It's as though each cycle of letting go brings about a familiar yet altogether new scene. Since I have only been there during the southern hemisphere's winter months with sometimes several months between visits, I notice how the area has shed the skin that I knew and is presenting what has grown in its place.

We often don't notice what is waiting to emerge from within ourselves because sometimes we're so close to it that we don't see or sense it. But all of us have an opportunity to let go of the old skin of our ways to make room for new growth. My thought of the week is: what are you letting go of so that you can sense the newness of your own being? What is sitting behind the curtain of your current skin that's ready to awaken?

A number of years ago, I worked as an assistant to two hand therapists and one of the things they would do was to debried injured tissue. I would watch one of the therapists picking away at the old skin and would feel a bit queasy as she did so. She looked as though she were really into the process of doing it. I asked her one day how she could remove the old/dead skin from a patient's hand and she said, "When I take away the old tissue, what is lying below is new, healthy tissue. It means that things are healing." That moment shifted my paradigm around shedding skin.

We know that sometimes growth waiting to emerge can be uncomfortable. I don't know how they know this but it's a painful process for a snake to shed its skin. But this letting go allows them to be bigger than they were before. So, notice what's waiting to emerge from deep within you. Perhaps it's a seed that was planted a long time ago and is ready to manifest.

Perhaps heading off to the Korean spa will be enough to spark it into reality! Happy scrubbing!

Sometimes We Trip

We are definitely in the dog days of summer here in California, especially here in the desert. Days are long and hot which means getting up at the crack of dawn to spend any cool time outside. However, we are lucky here in the Coachella Valley as hiking trails that lead to San Jacinto peak (11,000 ft) is just a 10 minute tram ride up the mountain. It can be a 30 degree difference from the desert floor to the mountain top tram station and is one of our getaways when the temperatures soar.

Last weekend, we headed up the tram for a long hike. I had set the intention of connecting to being in the mountains...feeling the breeze, touching the varied textures of the pine needles and enjoying supreme moments of quiet. On our way back to our starting point, I was gabbing away about something and tripped. Yep, that quick and unexpected moment of meeting the earth in a rapid fashion. In those moments, we stop and pause before getting up to see if anything is broken or injured. I paused, dusted the dirt from my leg, noticed my skinned knee and after taking a deep breath, continued on our way. What this moment of tripping taught me was to be more mindful. It was as if the earth was saying, "Hey lady! You're not paying attention to me...wake up!"  

And what was interesting was my reaction to the fall. Sometimes we just trip, physically and metaphorically. And when we do, what is our reaction? One of judgment and condemnation? Or do we brush ourselves off and keep going? My lesson of tripping brought me to my thought of the week which is, sometimes we fall and how we react is a reflection of our ability to be resilient.  

Our practice of yoga is one way in which we build our resilience to the difficulties in life. When we are tripped up, it's usually completely unexpected. We might have set a beautiful intention of moving in a particular direction or acting a certain way and then life puts her foot out and we stumble. Sally Kempton has written about Yoga and Resiliency and connects the ability to bounce back to the practices of kriya yoga, the yoga of transformative action. We can build our so-called resilient muscle by raising our level of consciousness with the practices of tapas, svadhyaya and ishvara pranidhana as guide posts. Luckily, I've recently written about all three of these niyamas and you can click here to deepen your own knowing.

In a nutshell, when we walk through the fire of transformation physically and metaphysically (tapas), create time to really get to know who we are through self-study (svadhyaya) and allow ourselves to surrender to the whole (ishvara pranidhana), we bounce back more easily from things that trip us up in life. When the challenges of life tap us on the shoulder, we can use the crisis as a catalyst for spiritual growth. As Sally Kempton's teacher, Swami Muktananda once said, "a yogi is someone who can turn every circumstance to his advantage". This definitely sounds like that not only are we able to build our resiliency muscle, but to flex it when needed.

Time to get on the mat...I know that life is going to happen and I'm likely to trip again in the future. I'm going to be ready for it no matter what comes along. How about you?

Be With What Is

The other day, I had a conversation with a yoga student who suffers from a chronic illness and has been coming to yoga for the past few months. The student was determined, committed and seemed to be making steady progress. However, following last week's class, the disease was triggered into an inflamed state and intense pain was present. The student called me sounding quite hopeless and felt a need to take a break from the weekly class.  We both paused when those words were spoken and I could sense a sadness in both of us.

But then I offered another suggestion. I said, "We tend to look at yoga largely as a physical practice. But it can be much more than that. Perhaps this is the time where your practice focuses on meditation rather than on the physical aspect." The energy in that moment shifted from one of hopelessness to hopefulness as the student envisioned an opportunity to still be connected to the practice, deepening to the quieter elements as the body has space to heal.

A second conversation followed the next day with a dear friend who had just undergone shoulder and elbow surgery. When I spoke to her she sounded great...upbeat, positive and at ease with her healing process. It surprised me a little bit that she had come to be at ease with her current situation as she's a successful hair stylist and, with the surgery, unable to work (and therefore earn money) for the next few months. She said, "I'm focusing on getting back to what makes me feel more in balance-cardio exercise and better dietary choices. This is the time for me to regain focus and create balance. A true healing space."

The practice of "being with what is" takes conscious effort. If we take this moment, just this moment, we can sense that all is okay, no matter what is happening externally and begin to find a feeling of ease in our lives. It's about becoming truly present and noticing our experience, without getting sucked into the drama of it. I love the metaphor of our practice of stillness, meditation and being at ease as likened to us sitting on a riverbank, watching boats float down the river. The boats represent our thoughts and they're just gliding by. And then we realize that we're on one of the boats. We're checking out what the boat looks like, where it's taking us, who's in charge, etc. That moment of noticing we are on the boat is the magical moment of awareness that we can get off the boat and sit back on the shore. It's a moment of choosing what to be with.

Imagine if that boat is a boat of sadness and you stay with it for a long time. All you see and perceive is related to sadness. At some point, your entire being is affected until you have an awakening moment to remove yourself from the boat. We do this through witnessing our experience rather than indulging it. And it takes practice.

One way to experience the ease that is always within us is to sit quietly for a moment and notice what is swirling in your attention. What thoughts are there? What feelings do these thoughts create in your body? Where is it located? Spend a moment being with what's present. Then, drop beneath it. Try to take a breath that guides you deeply into the space of your heart, the seat of your soul. Notice that within this space, you are in balance, undisturbed and peaceful. This remembering is one of recognizing that we always have this inner sanctuary. This is where our practice teaches and reminds us to go there on the wings of our breath.

Finding equanimity in life means to sit with an open heart in a non-reactive witnessing way. The sensibility of calm underlies everything that's flitting across the surface and it's our practice that opens the doorway for easier access.

So much is happening in our world today that is dripping with fear and sadness. Being able to find our inner world, easily and with a loving commitment, is one way to be with what is.

May all beings everywhere remember the inner peace that lies within and shine that intention outward to all others.

Freedom

Here in the United States of America we have just celebrated the 240th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence marked by the 4th of July holiday. This historical moment was when the USofA decided to cut its ties to mother England. It's quite an amazing story of creation and forethought that still has strong roots in today's American culture. Many folks here in the States are outwardly patriotic, sporting their red, white and blue, waving flags and gathering with family and friends to BBQ and watch fireworks. We celebrate our independence together and in a very public way.

As I taught classes this week, I've been mulling on the idea of what freedom means to me and came to one point that I hold as deeply important---that of having the freedom to speak my truth. I realize that this freedom isn't one that's afforded to all around the world. People are censored, even imprisoned or killed for speaking their truth. It can be so powerfully threatening that others act out against them. Freedom of speech and speaking our truth are connected by slightly different themes. In the States, freedom of speech is seen as a constitutional right, even if political correctness, rabid disagreement or dissent is sparked through the words spoken.

For me, speaking my truth is being able to connect to the highest part of myself, guided by compassion, love and the energy of spirit so that the words and thoughts that come forth are coming from the heart rather than an agenda. When we examined the Yama of Satya, or truthfulness, the phrase that stuck was "Is it kind? Is it true? Is it necessary?". Being able to express myself in the most loving way possible has been a lifelong journey and will continue to be. I believe that the words we say possess an energy that ripples out and away from us...and eventually, back to us. So if my intention is that of harming, if the words are vile, they will actually be reflected back to me sometime in the future. Speaking my truth is not only a freedom that's important to me, but knowing the impact of my words and how they affect all beings, including me, makes it a powerful practice.

My thought and question of the week is what freedom is important to you? The freedom to love and be loved? The freedom to live in all of your uniqueness and sense of self-expression? The freedom to think, meditate or contemplate in your own way? The freedom to be still? The freedom to wear whatever your creative heart desires? To move about without restriction? The freedom to pursue your dreams even if they seem lofty or impossible? The freedom to change? 

When I asked myself this question, I was flooded by the emotion of gratitude. My heart felt so full in being able to connect to a freedom that I hold in high esteem, particular to my own need. When I think about my connection to the issue of human and sex trafficking, to those who have no voice, to those people who are unable to possibly live freely, it not only breaks my heart, but it hardens my resolve to live fully in the opportunity that I hold to speaking my truth and offering that to others.

Imagine having such incredible freedoms and not using them to support the greater good of all beings! Why is it that I happened to be born into a family that lives in a free country and I see others who are born into oppression? It connects us to the idea that all of us are connected, all of us are related to each other. We are all global cousins. What I wish for myself, the freedom and ease to express myself, is something that I wish for all beings everywhere. And as I heard it expressed on the 4th of July, perhaps we should celebrate interdependence day as well. 

We know we are all part of the human family and that we have the strength and insight to lift up those less free than us. It sounds all very idealistic, however, if we simply rest in gratitude and count our blessings, we recognize how we can affect others. My wish for all beings everywhere is that they are free to be who they are, in all their light. 

Happy independence and interdependence day to all!

The Edge

Last week I was inspired in our exploration of Isvara Pranidhana the final Niyama that is all about surrender. I found a description by Emma Newly which was:

"Surrendering to what is requires trust in our deepest Self, our intuition and the courage to express ourselves for who we are, as we are, with all of our perfect imperfections, which ultimately leads to freedom."

The part that really stuck with me was the word "trust" which has led me to my thought of the week-getting to know our edge.

Often in a yoga class we might hear an instruction of going to the edge of a pose, finding its boundary that divides benefit from harm. In our physical practice of yoga, the more experienced we become the better we get at finding that place of our physical limit, playing with what that means and having the wisdom to recognize that the edge is constantly shifting. In order to know this, we must pay attention to what's happening in the moment, rather than relying on a past impression of the pose. We need to experience the NOW of the pose, finding our breath throughout the entire process. In some ways, people who are used to undertaking a strong practice of yoga, might get quite good at actually ignoring their edge and pushing more toward an attainment of a pose rather than being with what is.

In all classes, but in therapeutic yoga in particular, I teach people what it means to be at their edge by asking three questions.  

1. Does this feel safe in my body?
2. Will I be okay tomorrow?
3. If I have chronic pain, am I dialing it up?

Obviously we want to answer "yes" to numbers 1 and 2, and "no" to question number 3. By doing so, we have greater insight into what is happening on that particular day within our physical experience. This is particularly important for those newer to the practice of yoga as connecting to our own biofeedback, we learn to not only become present in our practice, but do so from a safer place.

The other side of "the edge" coin can be quite different. That's the place where we go to the edge of our emotional/mental/spiritual experience. For a moment, think about a recent interaction you had with somebody that was uncomfortable, such as an argument or contacting a company's complaint department. As you recall this conversation, what emotion arose? Anger, frustration, elation? What was your reaction to the emotion? Did you want to pick a fight with the person? Walk away or hang up the phone? Or were you frozen, not knowing what to do?

If you notice, the fight, flight or freeze response is a signal that we are fully activated in our sympathetic nervous system, an inherent part of being human. The problem arises when we stay stuck in our sympathetic nervous system and are unable to connect to the parasympathetic part of the nervous system where we relax, renew and restore. 

Yoga gives us the perfect tool for learning how to watch our experiences from a place of non-judgment.  We begin to find equanimity in both our physical and mental experiences. We go to the edge of what challenges us emotionally and instead of moving away from the edge, we step closer to it. We look at the experience from a place of curiosity rather than condemnation and as a result, over time, we begin to find a greater sense of ease and peace.

The two-sided coin of the edge asks us to step away when we are physically pushing beyond our limits and to turn toward discomfort when we hit that often stuck place of our emotional, mental and spiritual selves. When we do so, when we let go, ultimately surrendering as described in Ishvara Pranidhana, we grow.

So let this become part of your practice this week. Take a look at when you are pushing and where you can let go further into the experience. I've been sharing one of my all-time favorite quotes this week:

"When I walk to the edge of all the light I have and take a step into the darkness of the unknown, I believe one of two things will happen.

There will be something solid for me to stand on or I will be taught to fly."

~S. Marlin Edges