Sadhana

 

I can’t exactly pinpoint when my journey along a spiritual path began, but I can recall that I had moments of awe and inspiration from a young age when in nature. I was lucky to have a middle-class family who would go camping on our two-week summer vacations. Both art and science were needed to pack our canvas Coleman tent, gear, and specifically designed “camp box” into the back of our Ford station wagon for six people. Dad custom-built the camp box, which housed everything needed for cooking, and angled it into the tailgate of the car in order to maximize space. Once the camp list had been agreed upon and all loaded, we would head off to one of the many State and National Parks in California and the western United States. I remember coming face-to-face with giant sequoias, windy seashores, and the Grand Canyon and felt the moments of wonder they inspired. I often felt small amidst the giants and would climb onto anything climbable for a better look, perhaps to gain perspective. Nature, as it turns out would be my kind of church…holy, sacred, and connecting me into an inner remembrance of my place in the Universe.

This week’s theme is about the creation of our own spiritual path, called Sadhana. Sadhana is a Sanskrit term used to refer to a daily spiritual practice from the root sadhu, meaning “go straight to a goal”. Routinely applying mind, body, and spirit in the pursuit of a spiritual intention is the most natural and efficient way to surrender the ego, to find relief from suffering, and to attain peace. As practitioners of yoga, the thing that drives our practice is the combination of Seva (selfless service), sadhana (our individual spiritual path), and Satsang (community). And although we talk about sadhana within the context of the other two, it is completely an individual journey.

If you’ve been to India, you most likely saw “sadhus”, or holy men who have renounced the world in pursuit of spiritual liberation. They have few, if any, possessions, often have particular austerities, and live off of alms. One sadhu has held his arm above his head (yes, non-stop) for the past 43 years as a sign of devotion to Lord Shiva. It’s a practice of devotion and transcending the physical body. I, however, prefer a different path, not renouncing the world but living as a householder which means I have other things in my life besides devotion: possessions, an occupation, and a significant other. So the practice for the one-armed sadhu is not the path for ordinary me…yet, we both have our own journey underway.

Sadhana doesn’t have a particular dogma connected to it and it may change as you go through your life. I grew up in a Christian household and realized fairly early on that it didn’t resonate with me. Over time, I found things that did, particularly studying philosophy as part of my undergraduate degree and various daily practices began to send roots into my inner soil with deepening self-study and exploration into yogic philosophy, in particular, the eight-limbs of yoga. The eight-faceted path gave structure to practices that I could do and configure to the dynamics of my life, building on what felt right deep within.

Later in my life, it feels like I know the path along which I tread. I don’t know where it’s going, or what may unfold in the process, but I have identified myself as a spiritual being yearning to tap into my true self. When we know what calls us forth, we are able to create the steps needed to keep us aligned with our intention. What I do know, is that I want my path to be one that includes compassion and ease, as well as growth and trusting the unknown. I know that my daily rituals have a certain pliability to them, morphing as I change not only physically but mentally as well. I recognize that what worked in the past served and taught me well yet may not be what’s right for me today

As I project into the future, I know what continues to propel me along my personal path is how I can be of service, not only to my own needs but the needs of others. Additionally, it’s important for me to have the backbone of a community in which guidance and accountability are present. I trust that what you need to know will show itself to you. I trust that if you have a sense of your own “north star” no matter what steps you take, they will be the right ones for your own journey. Travel well, my fellow seekers!

Seva & Solstice

 

Something deep within me loves this time of year…and no, it’s not because of the gift-giving (which I do very little of), or the parties (which I rarely attend), or the looping songs of holiday cheer. It’s more visceral than that. The longer nights, the cold and often crisp mornings, the winding down of a calendar year are each throwing out an invitation to slow down, hibernate, and turn inward. I hear the calling and seem to be enjoying a deeper dive into my daily meditation practice and look forward to the next couple of weeks being quieter.

Several years ago, my husband and I started to mark and celebrate the Winter Solstice. Neither of us were embracing the traditions we were raised with and I was beginning to feel a bit “bah-humbug’ish” and wanted to find a way to connect to the beauty of the season-community and light. We decided to invite friends over for a potluck, light candles, and sing Kirtan-a call and response group gathering based in Indian folk music. At first, it was just recorded music and, over time, it evolved into my band-Jayne & The Om Boys playing live at the Desert Yoga Therapy studio, not only for the Winter Solstice, but eventually the Summer Solstice and both Equinoxes. In addition to the live Kirtans, we asked that people donate money to a chosen local charity. Over the past few years, we’ve raised tens of thousands of dollars and each time, the experience is unique based on who gathers together. It has become quite a tradition, that is, until this year where the 2020 global pandemic diverted our traditions and best-laid plans.

In the Northern hemisphere, we are approaching the darkest days and as we cross the Solstice in the next short while, the days will begin to lengthen and we will start to welcome the return of the light. Is there a more perfect metaphor for 2020 than moving from the darkness, challenges, and grief of 2020 to a more hopeful time with coming vaccinations and a return to opening up schools, businesses, and our ability to once again move around the globe? Moving from darkness to light?

Yet in some ways, it’s important to not oversimplify the darkness to light metaphor. In the Southern hemisphere, they’re approaching the Solstice and the opposite will be happening. Their long days of summer will begin moving toward the darkness, yet do they not feel a similar hopefulness that we do in the north? Take into consideration the yin/yang symbol, the two tadpole shapes, spooning into each other. One is white and the other black, yet within the white is a black circle and within the black a white circle. It tells us that even in the light, darkness is present and within the darkness, light is also present. The opposing energies co-exist at all moments no matter where we’re at in the cycle of the calendar.

As it relates to this past year, it hasn’t all been darkness and grief. I’ve had people express gratitude at being able to undertake their yoga practice in a way they never had previously. I’ve grown in my own ability to create content, share it, and teach in a way I never imagined. I have been dancing with my husband every night since March, bringing a new ritual of daily joy we never had previously. I have had deeper and often marathon conversations over Zoom with friends, even though I couldn’t be with them in person. And I’ve been able to undertake Seva, self-less service, throughout the pandemic, donating to our local food bank, and offering free weekly sessions to my yoga community.

During this time I am reminded of three things that help to bolster our yoga practice: Seva-service to others; Sadhana-walking our individual spiritual path; and Satsang-community of like-minds. I’ll be discussing Sadhana and Satsang in the next two weeks for a deeper understanding. No matter how challenging these dark times seem, we are still able to continue what’s important to us for connection, soul-evolution, and the betterment of humanity. It looks different to how it has in the past, but that’s the beauty of it…it didn’t go away, it simply changed form.

Seva asks the questions: How can I serve? How can I be of help? What do I need to serve myself in order to support others from a heart-centric place? I am reminded during these darker days of stepping into winter, to step into my practice and check-in. The quiet and stillness is a ripe time to ask the questions above and listen for what arises. I hear the call…do you?

Limited Resources

 

 

Water on the moon? Yes…they say they’ve found water on the moon…and a person from NASA was heard to ask the question, “Can we source the water on the moon?”

Two different conversations prompted my thought of the week about resources, both in the world and within ourselves. The first was on the Tapestry podcast where Robin Wall Kimmerer the author of Braiding Sweetgrass, was interviewed. If you’re a regular reader of this blog, her name will sound familiar as her writing has created a massive internal shift in my thinking and inspired many of the themes over the past couple of months. The second was in a conversation with three other friends and the idea of using our own inner resources arose. I initially had a glimmer of a connection between these two conversations and, as so often happens, it has evolved over the past few days into a much deeper thought process.

Kimmerer, from the Potawatomi tribe and a Ph.D. researcher in Botany has had to make sense of two seemingly divergent paths of thought. The Potawatomi see the totality and connection to the earth and its offerings, where trees, plants, and non-human animals are all seen as beings rather than objects or defined as “it”. Her science background delineates things into the non-mystical and empirical, with theories posited and either supported or not. Melding the two has created a dialogue of a greater appreciation of the living world. Kimmerer also describes her dislike of the words “natural resources” and instead prefers the term “the earth’s gifts”. She talks about the notion of “the honorable harvest” where you don’t take the first plant and you only take what you need. We all know that the earth, as a being, sustains our individual lives. Yet, so many of us have become unconscious as to the sources of our sustenance and take without thinking, often more than we need, and in a way that shows non-reverence from where it came.

If we apply the honorable harvest idea to our own inner resources, perhaps we begin to see the connection that we too, have limits. From a physical perspective, our body can only store a certain amount of energy within our cells in the form of glycogen, blood glucose, and fat stores. If we didn’t refuel the physical tank, we would “poop” out and be unable to continue our existence. We have limited emotional capacities and experiences with being able to experience only one emotion at a time (but perhaps different ones in rapid succession) and realize the fluid nature of emotions. Mentally, we have a limited tolerance, particularly as it relates to managing levels of stress that make their way into our daily lives. We all have a breaking point…not some endless reserve squirreled away within the deep recesses of our being.

Coming to the realization that many things we think to be infinite are actually finite begins to shift our relationship to them. All of us are finite in this human form. Everyone we know, including ourselves, will die. Yet, how often do we make choices as though the opposite is true? When we choose to mine the earth, continue the search for and drilling of fossil fuels or over-consume are we simply unconscious that these gifts from the earth are limited?

The moment I made the connection to why I get triggered in hearing about the potential of old-growth forests being cut down, or drilling into the Arctic wilderness, or tapping the water on the moon is that I realize that I am a microcosm of Mother Earth. What exists in her, exists in me, because of her! As I more deeply realize and embody the connection something within it becomes sacred. I begin to hold a deeper reverence for how the gifts of the earth not only sustain me but all beings upon it. If I can understand the honorable harvest within myself, knowing of my own sacred reserves, perhaps my outward actions will also shift.

The idea that what is here is for the taking is an outdated colonialist and capitalist way of thinking. I have been inspired to turn toward the ancient wisdoms and indigenous teachings in order to remember the sacredness of not only my own life but that of others. I’m hoping these insights inform my actions, and that my actions, in turn, honor rather than destroy the mother. And for that, I am humbled.

What Inspires You?

Just like the ebb and flow of the tide, my levels of inspiration are always in flux. Just prior to my summer eight-week hiatus I knew my energy was spent. And once on the break, I found I couldn’t bring myself to think about my yoga business for about six weeks…I was lacking inspiration. I thought that following a familiar pattern, I would step away from working for a bit and a rush of ideas would come flooding but they didn’t. A part of me wondered if I was entering a drought, the barren landscape of no fresh ideas. Yet, I also placed my trust in a process that has revealed itself to me time and time again…patience and faith. I have been fortunate to experience countless moments of inspiration and what I realized over the summer was that I had emptied my tank so completely that the first order of reigniting inspiration needed to begin by refilling my energetic well.

 

What this looked like was a complete release from having to be creative or make decisions, to truly step out of a business that can be all-consuming. Next, I needed to do things that connected me to the earth’s energy. The ocean, sand, the moon cycles, and many sunsets, as well as walking through redwood groves and along ocean cliffs, was the medicine my heart and soul had been craving. I found I was called to undertake subjects I’d been curious about studying so I enrolled in online courses on meditation, anatomical dissection, and back stabilization. I looked after my weary body and aching back by consulting with specialists and created a movement routine and adapted it to my daily practice. And, I allowed myself to enjoy a glass of wine at the end of the day…something I typically avoid when I’m working.

 

The result of this six-week reset was I began to see the percolation of ideas…they began to rise up and I had more clarity than I did six weeks prior. The spark returned and continued to grow as I created a new online workshop that has exceeded my expectations and sparked what was beginning to feel like an unfamiliar joy. At the beginning of one of the workshop classes, I posed the question “What inspires you? Where do you find inspiration?” and this week’s theme has been inspired by posing that simple question. As people shared their answers, common threads began to appear: nature, friends, music, art, and certain people.

 

My thought this week is more than what inspires us, but it’s the knowing of how to set up your environment to foster and cultivate the spark of creativity on a regular basis. Just as we do in Restorative Yoga, we set up the conditions to foster deep relaxation and can follow a similar model for fueling inspiration and generating new ideas.

 

When you know how to set up conditions, you begin to optimize more and more moments of inspiration. As you can see from above- rest, nature, and silence are what work for me. I’ve now written over 550 blogs and have been doing so since 2009. If I think about it, it’s quite astonishing that I can come up with something new or reinvented every week that I’m teaching. I never would have thought in 2009 that I would be more inspired now than I was back then, or that I would have been able to continue the process. But that’s exactly what it’s become…a method of creativity due to establishing a pattern of discipline about how to tap into the open and infinite space of possibility.

 

Eckhart Tolle says that creativity and inspiration arise during silence and I trust that to be true, so having a dedicated daily practice is one way in which conditions are set up to encourage revelations. I so believe that inspiration needs a channel of expression.  Otherwise, what’s the use of having great ideas but locking them away within ourselves? Creativity is a personal expression of who you are and a vehicle by which we share our purpose. It’s the voice we use to manifest the soul’s calling and share who we are in the world. And I know that each of us has something unique to express and offer to the rest of the world.

 

I have been inspired countless times by the conversations I have with people, particularly students to whom I have the honor to teach and interact with. For that I am thankful and I am excited to see what pops up next!

Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address

 

I finally finished reading the book Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer . And I don’t mean finally, as in what a slog, but rather as the conclusion to something quite inspirational. I took my time reading and contemplating the book, savoring its unique perspective. Something about it felt like a reconnection to a part of me and the rest of humanity that is within us but lays dormant. I would often feel the words resonating in my belly, like I know this, yet felt as though I was hearing it for the first time. Perhaps this was precisely the book I needed to be reading during this time as I have just completed a year-long study of Shamanism and the Medicine Wheel. The culmination of this time has been the message to return to ancient wisdom and to listen not only to the elders, but to the voice of the natural world.

This past week was the national holiday of Thanksgiving and the frequent go-to theme is obvious – what are you grateful for? Yet being inspired by the above, it felt fitting to introduce and quote from The Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address, Greetings to the Natural World. This translation of the Mohawk version of the Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address was developed, published in 1993, and provided, courtesy of: Six Nations Indian Museum and the Tracking Project.  It addresses 17 different aspects of the natural world: The People, The Earth Mother, The Waters, The Fish, The Plants, The Food Plants, The Medicine Herbs, The Animals, The Trees, The Birds, The Four Winds, The Thunderers, The Sun, Grandmother Moon, The Stars, The Enlightened Teachers, and The Creator. The Haudenosaunee Confederacy is a tribal nation originating in the northern part of New York State and borders with Canada. They are made up of six tribes the Mohawk, Onondaga, Seneca, Oneida, Cayuga, and Tuscarora.

The address honors and thanks the various aspects of the natural world, knowing that they all support us in being able to survive on this planet. In its recitation, “Now our minds are one” is the closing statement. It’s not only an acknowledgment of the natural world, but an understanding that we are the stewards of the earth. As the Earth Mother looks after and provides for us, even in an injured state, we in return must look after her.

What I took away from “Braiding Sweetgrass” and the Haudenosaunee Address reflects so many aspects of yogic philosophy, including that of interconnectedness and reciprocity. We are all one yet each of us has our unique role to bring forth in the world. When we honor each other by allowing each of us to offer our gifts, not only do they benefit the fulfillment of purpose but become interwoven with the giving and receiving cycle of all beings on the planet…including the 17 forms honored by the Haudenosaunee.

One of the reasons these words are resonating in my belly is knowing that I have been complicit in the harm that humans have caused to the earth. I use plastic. I drive a hybrid car that still uses fossil fuel. I haven’t always asked permission from the earth to pick up a stone or a feather. I like to fly on jet airplanes. I’m no longer composting and unfortunately, on it goes. I have become more aware of my impact over the years yet more can be done. So these ancient words of wisdom and respect have been the inspiration that not only do I need to do more, but I need to support others in taking action as well.

The next phase of my action is beginning to take shape although I don’t really know what it looks like. I trust from past experience that in order to get things moving, having a starting point of some form of awakening is vital and I believe this is the moment. When we become aware of something we can make a choice to keep repeating the same behaviors or start to make different choices. I trust the Universe to guide me in the right direction now that I’m beginning to ask the right questions. How can I be of service to the Earth Mother? How can I honor the ancient wisdoms? How can I leave this planet in the hands of my grandchildren and their grandchildren in a better state than it’s currently in? And how can I encourage others to do the same and build a collective consciousness that benefits all beings?

I hope you are curious about this awakening, unfolding, and call to action. I hope that you can connect into the abundance of the earth and bow in gratitude. And I trust that as I continue to navigate this path, I will continue to be inspired and be shown where to place my footprints. I know the elders have traveled this path before me and for that I honor and hope to perpetuate their wisdom.

Our minds are one.

Click here to link to the full Haudenosaunee ThanksgivingAddress

Channeling Goldilocks

Once upon a time, many of us were told the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. For those who need a reminder, this girl, Goldilocks, walked into an empty house that happened to be owned by three bears. She decided to do a bit of exploring and sat down to eat some porridge. As she tasted Papa Bear’s porridge, it was too hot. Mama Bear’s porridge was too cold. Well, Baby Bears porridge was just right so she chowed down. She had a few other adventures in the house that involved chairs and other things until she finally made it into the bedroom where she tried out Papa Bears bed...too hard. Mama Bears...too soft. Baby Bears bed was just right, so she hopped in and fell asleep. And on the story goes, which if you don't know the ending, you'll have to Google it or ask someone else.

Now you might be wondering how the story of Goldilocks makes its way onto a blog about yoga. What I like about this trespassing youngster is that she was in search of what was "just right" for her. And as we step into our yoga practice or move through our day, do we know how to find that sweet spot of what's just right for us? If we shift the emphasis of the story to Papa Bear, we learn that what is just right for him is hot porridge and a hard bed, illustrating that what is just right for each of us may be quite different. As a yoga instructor, I don't know what's right for my students. Only they can determine that through their own awareness. By allowing people to search for what's just right for them, it provides each of us an opportunity to pursue a different path. If we can do so without placing judgment on what's right for me or for you, a particular acceptance and freedom arises...not only on the yoga mat but far beyond.

As we channel our friend, Goldilocks, we want to embody the non-criminal element of her behavior. I mean, she did enter the Bear’s house without permission and messed with their stuff…not very yogic behavior. Another element of the story is the search for Goldi’s own truth and preference, which is quite particular to her. If we explore this topic further we can turn to the Buddhist path of “The Middle Way” which acknowledges that opposites will always exist in exactly the same moment. In situations where we find ourselves being challenged can further our own suffering as we we cling to extremes or our own preferences without considering the “others” perspective, which can taint the reality of the present moment.

As so often happens, what we need to practice is right in front of us. We are in the midst of experiencing extremes with the political divide and the ongoing pandemic which has exposed and accelerated differences in areas of our society that have been neglected. Our holding onto either side of the split is causing a level of suffering that many of us haven’t experienced in our lifetimes. To say the least, these are tough times and many of us feel powerless to do anything about it except to respond by tightening our grip on what we believe to be “just right” for us. To quote Rumi,

 “Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralyzed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds’ wings.”

Perhaps in order to soften the impact of the moment, we not only offer ourselves compassion and self-care but take some time to sit in the opposite view and understand the complexity of any given situation. We don’t have to adopt it but rather to listen to it and know its presence. This is called empathy, an ability to see and sense the present moment as experienced by others. When our heart sits in empathy, it is unable to sit in anger, even for the briefest of moments.

 A metaphor to describe this practice is to sit in the messiness of our own lives as though we are sitting by the edge of a pond in stillness. As we sit, we watch all the different creatures, beasts, demons, animals, opinions, and beings that come to drink at the pond. We simply watch and stay in the middle of the experience. This is a practice of finding equanimity where we give ourselves time to observe rather than to simply react. With this gap between what we observe and how we act, we may very well choose the same thing but at the very least, we’ve done so consciously. In living with an open-heart, we recognize differences and honor the “just right” not only for ourselves, but for all beings, everywhere.

Relax and Trust

 

Yet again, another week of uncertainty and chaos. It’s beginning to sound and feel repetitive. From riding the waves of the US election to an explosion of Coronavirus cases with no end in sight, the ground beneath my feet is feeling unsteady. As I checked in with students prior to classes over the past several days, one thing was prevalent…tension. People were voicing “I need a good stretch. I need to just show up today. I need to unwind and relax. I feel tight. I’m holding tension in my neck…” and on it went. If the body is noticeably tense, it’s a sign of being threatened and being in the vigilant aspect of our nervous system. And then, a friend reminded me of the quote, “Our ability to relax is in direct proportion to our ability to trust life.” Wham. There it is.

As I contemplated the above quote, I asked myself, how have I come to not be trusting life?

I began to take stock of what got my knickers in a knot and noticed that I had moments of being sucked into the black hole of media. I turned it off on Election Day, giving myself a buffer from the anxiety, yet when I turned it back on in the subsequent days, I got quickly sucked back in. I noticed myself not trusting the greater power of humanity and being lured into the drama narrative. The lack of trust in what was happening outside of me was pointing me in the direction of fear-based reactions and thoughts.

In order to recalibrate and align with what I value in my life, that of compassion and equanimity, I needed to remember what I do trust in life and how to switch back toward what was supportive rather than destructive of my own inner health and peacefulness. The list below is what emerged:

 

•         It’s time to listen. I need to stop talking, stop trying to fix it, and simply listen to what is being said.
•         It’s time to be on my mat. Every day with full presence and openness.
•         It’s time to remember my deeper purpose. Why am I in this embodiment, anyway?
•        It’s time to come back to my heart and get out of my head.
•        It’s time to trust what I have trusted before-my intuition, my practice, stillness, and the discipline of my daily practice.
•         It’s time to unplug to encourage relaxation.

When I come back to what I have control over and return to the inner spaciousness and wisdom of my own being, my need to avoid what I don’t like begins to dissipate and I can work on finding ease with whatever situation I’m facing.

When we turn our energy away from our inner being, it’s easy to get overloaded with anxiety about things which we truly have little control over. It shoves us into the part of our nervous system which is on high-alert and has real physical consequences, particularly if we never break out of it. Relaxing is imperative for our health on all levels and isn’t accomplished through avoidance, online shopping, self-medicating, prolonged anger, or anxiousness. BY coming to our mat, we give our weary heart an opportunity to unplug from the outer and plug into the inner, where we truly have a locus of control and agency. If we can offer ourselves 15-20 minutes of a supported relaxing pose (such as corpse/Savasana), spend time sitting in meditation or doing conscious breathing, we can interrupt the disruptive pattern that knocks us off our feet.

We are eight-months into the pandemic and I’m still in my studio, by myself, teaching to the small screen of my iPad. I’m grateful that I can do my work in the world and see the incredible reactions of our yoga community and how thankful they are that we can gather and practice, albeit, virtually. And at the same time, I see no quick or easy solution. In order for me to stay connected to what’s important, I need to stay with what supports equanimity and offer myself compassion during challenging times.

Magic lives within this practice we call yoga. Get on your mat and let’s remember the magic together.

Jane the Great

 

If you're wondering if this statement refers to me, well, yes it does. I officially changed the spelling of my name many years ago to Jayne and the above is how I was identified in my early years. As my siblings and I were preparing our Mother's house for sale, we had the imposed rite of passage of clearing out 54 years of “stuff” from an organized packrat. Mom literally never threw anything out and as my brother, Ken, emptied out the jam-packed attic and opened a dust covered box, he started to laugh and showed me the above folder. Apparently, way back then I had a high level of optimism as to how my life was meant to unfold. Perhaps my elementary school self knew on some level, that greatness could be an aspiration and that, perhaps, inking the moniker onto my folder would affirm it.

The theme this week isn’t completely about individualism as that would appear quite divergent from the yogic philosophy of interconnectedness. But it is about knowing what our individual and unique gifts are to the world. It also beckons the question of how your life has impacted others, the “why are you here?” inquiry which lays at the heart of many spiritual practices. We so easily get stuck at the point of identifying who we are by our descriptors --- woman, friend, spouse, yoga teacher etc. but what if we are none of those things but simply an energy that people couldn’t quite put their finger on? I have met only a few such people whose presence is what I felt above all else and in that presence, the message that was conveyed and was too strong to ignore was based on love.

Imagine going through life in a way that when people asked, “Who are you? What’s your name?” and you replied, “I am love…” I bet the reaction would be one of surprise with words like “You are crazy” getting whispered under the breath. We express our identity through labels so we can more easily make sense of our relationship and commonalities with others. We don’t know what to do with “I am love”…how do you interact with that? “Ok, love…see you at the game?” Instead, we work through the visage of what identifies us and ultimately, trust that if we step into our greatness it will resonate away from us.

My grade school self knew that greatness could exist within me, but what she didn’t know at the time was how that would be expressed over a lifetime. I have had many moments of greatness and awe and inspiration, yet articulating many of those becomes more elusive. In conversation with my husband, I asked what made him great and he hesitated. Then I re-framed the question to how has his life made a difference to other people’s lives? He also thought that any of the qualities we were talking about weren’t unique to him-loyalty, honesty, direct communication, a drive for social justice and equality are some of many. Yet, I said to him, not one person walking this earth expresses it in the way he does as there is only one of him and his way is beautifully unique.

My quote of the week from Robin Wall Kimmerer, the author of “Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants” reflects the way of the Three Sisters which are corn, beans, and squash. Each individual seed is unique unto itself, yet when the three are planted together in a mound of dirt, they “provide a visible manifestation of what a community can become when its members understand and share their gifts.” The corn emerges first from the soil and grows tall, followed by the beans which find anchorage along the cornstalks, and the squash create an underground network so that broad leaves can shade the soil to optimize moisture. The three work together although they have different and individual qualities.

Given where we are at this point in time, with division and finger pointing abounding, I am inspired by the Three Sisters and reminded that although it might feel we stand alone, when we merge and express our greatness, everyone benefits. It is up to us individually to create the “Namaste Effect” as coined by Nischala Joy Devi. When we are truly connected to our inner radiance and we recognize another person connected to theirs, no division exists…we are connected and we are one. The light in me, sees and honors the light in you, and when we are both present in that moment, we are one. Namaste.

Finding Grace

Last week, something happened that hadn’t happened in seven months…we paid an in-person visit to my Mother. She has dementia and is living in a small board and care facility, fifteen minutes from where we live. She receives excellent care and has been kept safe during this time of the pandemic where she is one of the most vulnerable, and for that, we are extremely grateful. We’ve had weekly phone calls and a few family Zoom calls to stay connected, and this past weekend, we were allowed to see her in-person.

We visited outside, with my husband and me wearing masks and sitting away from her, and spent about 40 minutes together. As we were saying our farewells, she indicated that we were forgetting something…giving her a hug good-bye. My heart broke a bit as we looked at her and I told her we aren’t allowed to give her a hug at the moment. She offered a resigned shrug and said, “okay”. As we drove away, and for the next couple of hours, I had an underlying sense of agitation. It was a difficult visit in some ways, trying to navigate a conversation behind a mask with an 88-year-old person who relies more on body language than spoken words. The inability to rub her back and sit close by to share a recent slideshow felt disconnecting and what I found myself needing afterward was to offer myself grace.

This was just one sign in a time of many challenges.

As I reflected upon my own need for grace, it expanded to not only my Mother but to so many beings who’ve been greatly impacted around the world. One of the unspoken things we can turn to in challenging times is to soften. Soften our reactions, our expectations, what we say, and how we act towards ourselves and others. I was reminded to hold myself gently, once again, without hardening my heart.

As I’ve shared the theme this week, I realized I’m not the only one needing to find grace. People are fragile at the moment and it’s no wonder. Aside from an on-going pandemic and interruption and re-organization of what we knew to be our “normal” lives, we are in the midst of powerful energetic shifts. In a couple of days we’ll have a “blue moon”, the second full moon in the month of October. And, it happens to be falling on Halloween which is also connected to the Celtic celebration of Samhain (pronounced SAH-win). It signifies the end of the harvest and the mid-way point between the equinox and solstice. In the Northern Hemisphere, our days are getting shorter and we are heading into the darkness of winter. It signals a time to celebrate the abundance we have reaped and to honor our ancestors. It is said that “the veil is thin” during this time, between the worlds of the living and those who’ve passed before us. In Mexico, a related holiday is underway called Dias de Los Muertos, or “day of the dead”. Add to this a gigantic political election occurring next week in the USA, it’s no wonder that people are feeling un-grounded and wobbly. It’s the perfect time to invite self-compassion and get grounded in order to emerge on the other side of all of this with less suffering and more empathy and kindness.

I have a few suggestions in navigating your way into receiving more grace. The first is to have a news fast. Unplug for a day or more from the breaking headlines and social media. Other ideas are to get outside into nature and feel the elements-bare feet on the earth; wind in the hair; sun on the face; stop and smell the roses; moon and stargaze; and put your hands in the dirt. Offer kindness to others, they may need a dose of unexpected grace more than you could possibly know. And finally, let go of having to be any particular way right now. I’m trying to soften my connection to perfection. I hear myself saying, “It’s okay for it to not be perfect. Let it go.” And in that, I find what I need…a moment that feels like an unraveling that shifts into one of connection-that of myself to my own heart.

Can You Be Too Flexible?

 

I've been asking this question to classes throughout the week, "Can you be too flexible?" It’s been interesting to see some people nodding “yes” and some “no”, when actually it’s posed as a rhetorical question, a provocative way of engaging deeper thought.

Over the years, I’ve heard people say that they’re “too inflexible” to do yoga, or they want to become more flexible, so perhaps yoga is something to try. Some people comment on the hypermobility in others saying they must do yoga, or if someone exhibits big ranges of motion that they must be “good” at yoga. This makes me think that flexibility is something to be attained and is a coveted prize. Ever since I was a young kid, I’ve been flexible. I could do the splits without trying and backbend easily. Friends and family members would comment on this special prowess that I possessed as though it were a rare and prized quality. With this inherent range of motion, I gravitated toward dance and gymnastics, other realms that praised the flexible beings walking the earth.

If I think about the more extreme examples of flexibility, rhythmic gymnastics, dance, artistic gymnastics, and yoga all come to mind. They train beyond normal and functional ranges of motion to achieve a particular aesthetic, one unreachable by many.

I gained from the gift of being flexible until I didn’t…leading to an unstable lumbar spine, with increasing pain as I have aged. Health practitioners I’ve been working with have said to me, “You’re too flexible…we need to stiffen you up!” It was a blow to the ego as I have been praised for my “ease” in larger ranges of motion for most of my life. It’s also been a humbling re-calibration of what serves me and what will continue to do so. My focus has changed to creating greater stability and less mobility.  Moreover, it’s been teaching me to honor and respect my physical body as it changes over time. It’s a tough lesson.

We all have something called a tipping point. In relationship to our physical selves, it’s our tissues managing a certain load or stress, undergoing something called viscal elasticity, which is when a load is applied to tissues, it slowly elongates and deforms to the applied stress. All of our tissues have a limit to this stress before injury happens. For bones, it’s about 2% with more than that resulting in the bone breaking. The stress can come in the form of a heavy load, time, or fatigue. So, as an example, if we hold a plank pose for a relatively long period of time we begin to quiver and shake as our body tries to recruit more muscle fibers until eventually, we not only lose form and the integrity of the shape of the pose, but we begin to lose the benefit of doing the pose. More does not equal better.

This week’s thought has been about not only managing our physical load, optimizing the balance between stability and mobility, but looking at the other stressors in our life that may be related to our mental health and our emotional state. These past seven months of the global pandemic have been tough…an extra load added to what is often a challenging life to begin with. People’s mental health has been affected, our emotional steadiness challenged, and a calling to our deeper spirit for support. Know that all of us have a point at which we break, physically or otherwise. With awareness, we can become wiser to what we cannot only tolerate but to what supports us in thriving rather than just getting by. I’ve been pointing to this theme over the past several weeks with the encouragement to do less, take rest (the refractory period), create boundaries, get outside, and honor the many forms that our yoga practice can take.

We all know the metaphor of the camel and the straw. Perhaps we can say “no” to adding more into our lives and accept the nature of our inherently divine selves, perfect just as we are.

Boundaries

It struck me on an early morning walk that I needed to reverse course and say “no”. It’s often as we are undertaking mundane tasks such as walking, folding laundry, doing the dishes, or taking a shower that we’re hit with moments of truth and clarity. I had made a commitment to become an accountability buddy for my Shamanism course and after receiving the information of what I needed to do next, felt a wave of overwhelm. I was in the midst of creating a surprise party for my husband’s 70^th birthday as well as content for a soon-to-be-launched new course. Individually, these don’t sound like obstacles but given the pandemic, uncertainty with business, and an upcoming Presidential election, it just felt like one more thing had been added into my realm of contemplation. And in the peaceful morning walk, my inner self firmly told me to say “no” to another commitment. And I listened. When I got home, I sent an email apologizing for having to withdraw as an accountability buddy, but since boundaries are what we’re currently studying, I’m going to honor mine and back away.

I immediately felt relief and although I had a pang of “Wow, perhaps I’ll be missing out on something cool”, I have made peace with the decision. Boundaries are acts of self-care and self-love. When we have them working well for us, our self-esteem remains intact and we can truly practice the self-realization portion of our lives as it is a reflection of asking ourselves what we need and to choose what serves us.

I was once told during a reading of my chakra energy that my second chakra was wide open, as though I had a drawer pulled out that I rarely closed and people found it to be the perfect dumping ground for their stuff. Until that moment, I didn’t realize that I was leaving myself open and as a result felt overly emotional and sensitive. I was also told during the same reading that my throat chakra was closed, as though I had a bird locked in a cage, waiting to be freed and express itself. I had unconsciously put a walled boundary around my self-expression and it was bursting to be free. What helped closing one chakra and opening the other was twofold. First, becoming aware that my second chakra was open and my throat closed, was having a physical and emotional impact on my wellness, and second, that I could choose to close the drawer and unlock the cage, in other words, I had the power to adjust my boundaries.

When things impact us, shifting us away from our optimal state, we have the power to make changes. Standing in the strength of our third chakra is related to standing up for ourselves. It has the element of fire and the potential to transmute energy. When we notice a boundary is being breached, we have the power to adjust it. It often means saying “no” to something and possessing the self-worth despite the fact it may impact or disappoint someone else. When we put up a boundary, we do so from a place of self-love. If we say “yes” to something without having the full-hearted commitment to it, not only do we create suffering for ourselves but it pulls us out of living from a heart-centered place, and that energy echoes away from us. As Brene Brown says, “Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves, even when we risk disappointing others.”

 This week’s thought is to look within to see what you need and to recognize we have all sorts of boundaries-physical, emotional, mental, and energetic. We are asking ourselves if any of our boundaries are too malleable or too rigid, and can we do something to change it so it serves us more deeply? Every morning as I finish my meditation practice I clear my energy fields and surround myself in protective luminous layers of energy. They’re translucent so I can send out intentions from my highest self and receive goodness from the outer world. They’re protective through the intentions I set to not absorb what doesn’t serve me and to release that energy back to Mother Earth.

The below quote came to my inbox this week and feels like the perfect conclusion to this week’s blog…enjoy the golden circle of light!

The great mythologist, Joseph Campbell, who spent his entire life studying the religions of the world, was asked, “What is the definition of sacred?” and “How do human beings make something sacred?” He responded, “It’s the simplest thing in the entire world, and you do not need a priest for it, anybody can do it. Here’s how humans make something sacred: You draw a circle around it and you say everything inside this circle is holy. It’s sacred because you said so. That is called a boundary, and a boundary is not a wall. A boundary is not something that you hide behind. A boundary is a golden circle that you draw around the things that matter to you, and you say everything inside this circle is sacred. If you treat it with respect, you are allowed to come in, but take your shoes off and bow because you are coming into the center of holiness here. And if it’s not, and it’s outside, then what do we say? We say, “I do not care.”

Many Forms of Practice

If you practice yoga poses, does that mean you have a yoga practice? If you’re not able to do a yoga pose, does that mean you’re not a yogi? Our culture has commoditized yoga as a form of exercise. Click on any drop-down menu of exercise options and yoga will pop up along with kickboxing, Pilates, and personal training. When we see images of people doing a wildly expressed yoga pose, often perched on the edge of a cliff at sunset, we think “Wow…they must be good at yoga!” I’ve had people tell me that their friend/niece/cousin is “good” at doing yoga to which I lift my eyebrows and wonder, “What do they actually mean?”

We are impressed with people’s ability to perform postures and make the assumption that if they’re physically accomplished, they too must be good yogis. However, yoga isn’t really ever about the poses but rather about enlightenment and expanding consciousness. The second yoga sutra of Patanjali can be translated as “Yoga requires the calming of the fluctuations of the mind” (1.2 - Yogas citta vrtti nirodha) rather than thoust must touch thine palms to the floor in order to be in a state of union and equanimity. In other words, if you can breathe, you can do yoga. If you can calm your mind and reduce your suffering, you are well on the yogic path.

Over the past couple of months, my yoga practice has started to look different from what it previously looked like. I’ve switched from doing some yoga poses such as revolved pyramids, deep forward folds, and full wheel backbends. It’s not because I can’t do them, but when I do I trigger a deep sciatic nerve pain. For years, on and off, I’ve felt the pain, but it has gotten more pronounced and hasn’t been subsiding. Deep inside, I knew that something had to shift and I needed a voice other than my own to guide me into changing up my practice. Hence, I began to “do less” in what triggers my pain and to do more to create greater spinal stability. It means adding in a daily regime of stabilizing exercises, eliminating stronger/deeper poses, and tweaking how much I physically teach. The shift has been challenging as I was uncertain if I could tolerate resuming a full workload with such modifications. But I have and so far, so good. I’ve given myself permission to create something different and that feels inherently good. One thing that hasn’t shifted is the commitment to my personal morning practice. It includes movement, a breath-centered practice of stillness, meditation, and contemplation. In fact, when I was sharing with a friend the shift in my back pain, they asked if I was still able to “do yoga?” and instead of me answering, my husband said, “You’re on your mat just as much if not more!”

My thought of the week is to honor all forms of practice and how we shift and modify what we’re doing based on our physical, mental, and emotional state. As illustrated above, injury has shifted my practice and other catalysts for change come in the form of illness, emotional stress, and overwhelm. Sometimes life is just hard and we allow this to become the obstacle to getting on our mat, yet this is exactly the time when we need it the most.

Recently a student who sustained an injury was feeling as though they couldn’t do their practice. With a broken wing, they were out of action. In my reflection to them, only their arm was affected not the entire body, so this was the perfect opportunity to release the attachment to what we think our practice should look like to adjusting it to what we need and what will benefit us most deeply in the present moment. When we cling to our practice, holding expectations of that being “it”, we create suffering when it can’t be as it was before.

This is particularly powerful as we age. My practice that began around 1993 looked very different to what it looks like in the year 2020. It has morphed, evolved, and taken shape to what I need in the moment and it may never look the same as it did even six months ago. If I cling to that image of what “I used to be able to do” than I will create my own suffering. If I can re-frame it into what serves me in the highest essence of who I am today, I can dial down the fluctuations of the mind and find greater ease in what is.

And all of you can do this as well. What we need is the discipline to some form of a regular (daily) practice and someone to support us along the way. Like all who have come before me, I have teachers who have filtered their teachers’ influence and passed it along to me and I do the same. For those of us as practitioners, we utilize what resonates within us to create our own container for a personal practice. We offer ourselves solace in that this will change and evolve over our years on the mat, fine-tuning what it is that serves us on our deepest level.

Let go of thinking poses are the be-all and end-all. Open to the many possibilities and forms your practice can take. It’s a beautiful and empowering experience. 

The Refractory Period of Muscle Contraction

I've gone back in time to the year 1982, the first semester of my foray into my degree in Physical Education. I was the first, and only, international student (having recently arrived from California) stepping into the hallowed halls of Phys Ed and Recreation at Victoria University in Melbourne, Australia. As I sat in Dr. David Lawson's office, the head of the department, he firmly suggested I focus on one of the most difficult courses that all first-year students needed to undertake...Human Biology One. He said, "If you can make it through this subject, you'll set your course in a positive direction." I had incentive and, thankfully, I'm a self-proclaimed anatomy geek, so the challenge was readily accepted.

When I first met the lecturer of Human Bio-One, Dr. Mick Carey, I could see why the course could be intimidating. Dr. Carey was a no-nonsense kind of bloke, wearing a lab coat and giving the stink eye to any unruly or undisciplined "phys'eder". He held high standards and many had difficulty meeting it. In one of the practical labs, we had the freshly harvested quadriceps of a frog. We placed the muscle in a solution bath with its tendons tied to a measuring device and when we added another solution to the liquid bath, the muscle would contract and then relax. We were measuring things like strength and time of contraction, looking to firing off another action potential for a follow-up contraction. If too much contractile solution was added, or too soon, the strength of the contraction weakened. We were looking at the refractory period, the time needed for the muscle fibers to be ready once again for a contraction.

Obviously, that lesson stuck as I'm once again referring to it 38 years later. But it struck me, how our physiology and structure are not only meant for movement but it needs rest. And in our culture, rest isn't typically something of high value. Hard work, maximal exercise, and pushing to the limit are honored qualities. As an example, here in the States, the average paid vacation time per year is a measly two weeks whereas in Europe and Australia, it's four weeks. 

So how does the refractory period play into our yoga world? My answer is quite simple - how doesn't it? If we seek optimal health of body, mind, and spirit, we do so by undertaking our practices, doing the work, and then letting go into deeper spaces of stillness and quiet. Activity/work is equally as important as rest, and in yoga, the ultimate refractory phase is at the end of the practice...that of savasana or the corpse pose. I'm grateful to students at my studio who have come to truly value savasana, often requesting a longer one before we even begin! I have heard stories and had the experience of a short, token-like savasana, and how some students will actually pack up their things before savasana begins and head out the door. Many people believe that just "laying there" is a waste of time and hold it to be of little or no value.

In our brain, the number of activation centers far outweigh the relaxation centers. Getting our nervous system to shift from a sympathetic, outward-facing and active space to the parasympathetic, restoring side of our nervous system is, therefore, more challenging and needs time. It is thought that it takes about 15 minutes to create this shift into our restorative space and in that space is where we truly recover, heal, and rebuild. 

The thought of this week isn't to get too heavily into the physiology and biochemistry of the refractory period but to simply point out that our being functions optimally when we have both activity and rest. Ideally, the activity side of the equation is undertaken with optimal form for our individual structure, with mindfulness and with attention. When we precisely dial in our activity, not overdoing it, and follow it up with adequate and deep rest, we not only balance our physical selves but the nervous system which affects our overall health.

I encourage you to pay attention to the type and quality of your rest and recovery from activity, from hydration and nutrition, to more passive forms of movement and to your sleep hygiene.

I think that Dr. Mick Carey would be not only proud but astounded that I'm talking about this in the year 2020. So this is to him who taught me about honoring the refractory phase of our physiology.

Thanks and cheers, Mick!

Get Outside

I'm a tree-hugger. Yes, I said it and I will proudly own it. On our recent travels during my 8-week hiatus, we spent our last month in Northern California, in the small quaint town of Mendocino. We not only spent time with daily hikes along its coastal trails but had the honor to be in four different redwood groves. The first time we stopped in a grove was as we were driving along the highway toward Mendocino. I turned to my husband, Ed, and said..."Wow, it feels like we are driving past ancient wisdom." He replied, "Yes...do you want to stop?" As we pulled over and got out of the car, we walked not but 20 feet into the woods. We both looked up and around and then at each other, almost whispering, "It's SO quiet!" In that moment, we were both awestruck by the absence of noise.

And each subsequent trip into the redwoods, we noticed the same thing. We would often walk and sit in silence, just listening to the lack of sound. On one occasion, we heard the "whoosh, whoosh" of a bird's wings soaring above the tall trees. Our final visit was the day before we were to leave and just three days prior, a fire had broken out nearby. The smoke began to move toward the coast of Fort Bragg and Mendocino, so we decided to see what it was like in the redwood grove. 

As we descended deeper into the woods, the trees acted like a natural filter and the air was so much clearer than anywhere else we could have gone. Walking past these old-growth trees, I felt once again that I was in the presence of the elders, possessing a pearl of ancient wisdom and supreme resilience. I noticed throughout, how stumps from very large, old trees that had either been logged or burnt by fire, were encircled by younger trees, as though they stood like sentries around the former giant. It was like seeing the honor guard to what had died and in that, offering room, light, and compost for their growth. 

The experience was humbling and mystical. I walked along brushing my hands on the trees and ferns, silently saying "Thank you. Thank you for allowing me to be here amid your legacy. Thank you for showing strength and beauty, despite adversity and challenge."

Forest bathing is a thing in Japan, where spending silent time in the forests supports good mental, spiritual, and physical health. A recent National Geographic article by George Stone, TRAVEL  Executive Editor stated "the Norwegians have delivered with the concept of friluftsliv  [pronounced free-loofts-liv], which roughly translates to "open-air living" and is deeply ingrained in the country's heritage." Being outdoors in nature is important to Norwegians, the fifth happiest country in the world, with a 2019 study finding that just two hours of time outside is enough to make you happier.

At a time when so many people worldwide have been locked down and feeling locked in, getting outside becomes a more profound experience. Many of us had plans to travel far and wide yet the pandemic reeled us in closer to home. Exploring California wasn't the plan we had made back in February of 2020. I was truly needing a break and listened to what I needed to help revive my weary self. My inner voice kept saying, "get to the ocean" and we not only heard the call but explored it as much as we could.

Upon my return to teaching, one comment I've received several times is that I look relaxed and calm. This is true. I am relaxed and calm as my soul has been deeply fed by being outside for close to seven weeks. The power and rhythm of the ocean, the sand between my toes, witnessing many forms of ocean life and birds, forest bathing amidst giant ancient redwoods, and sitting/walking in silence was good medicine.

My thought for the week is simple. Leave your four walls and get outside, even if it's opening a door and walking out onto a lawn, or barefoot on a deck. Notice the trees and maybe truly see them for the first time. If you can get further afield, take the time to do so. I can attest, it will feed your soul, connect you to your ancestry, and leave you with moments of awe that will never be forgotten.

Now. Stop reading...get outside!

Do Less

What is the saying? You need to see or hear something three times before you actually see or hear it? Well, if that's the case, I have now heard the call to "Do Less" on three separate occasions. The first was in 2006, as I was undertaking my yoga therapy studies. A fellow student and chiropractor said to me that I seemed to have only one speed...that of going full throttle, 110%. He asked what it would be like if I went at 70% and I looked at him as though he was speaking Icelandic. I didn't understand. What I knew at the time was I was born going full speed. Being the third of four children, for five and a half years, I was the youngest child. My Mom would say I "ran her ragged". She recounts how I was always "going, going, running around" and then, after I stopped, I'd fall asleep and then, once awake again would be "going, going, running around". I didn't even know that the possibility of a different speed or effort existed for me.

The second alarm about doing less came a couple of years ago when my Epstein Barr Virus re-activated. I had been cycling 3-4 times each week and found I simply wasn't recovering. I was tired and unmotivated. So, I did "do less" and switched over to walking rather than cycling. I interpreted this as meaning I was truly listening to the feedback my body had to offer and made a change.

The third sign? That happened during my recent 8-week hiatus. I've had a chronic back issue first diagnosed around 1992, so living with back pain felt like a "normal" part of my daily life. That is until the pain began to dial-up in December 2019. Yet, I pushed through the season of teaching, shifting onto Zoom with the onslaught of Covid-19, and had my back re-assessed in July. The feedback from that? Do less. 

Rats...I'm not very good at doing less. I have always been a "doer". I get stuff started and I get stuff done. When I have a goal, I typically not only reach it, but try to do so with the highest of quality. At times, this meant ignoring what my physical or mental self was telegraphing to me, being motivated to give it my all and make whatever "it" is outstanding.

So, when time number three tells me to do less and that part of my doing less meant to back away from most of the more physical aspects of yoga, it provoked anxiety. I'm lousy at doing less and feeling as though by doing so, I'll disappoint others. What if I'm not giving it my all? What if I say "no" to some things that I've always done and have become expected of me? What if I can't teach at all in the way I know how? What if this back pain gets worse and disabling? It was a rough couple of weeks when the "do less" message began to fully land.

As I've sat with that message now over a couple of months, the shift moved from the "what if/can't do" narrative to the what if I did things differently? What if I focused on me and what I need right now? What if I got creative and figured out a different pathway to teaching? At that point, I began to envision a plan of action. Change how much you physically do in your teaching life. Dedicate yourself to what you can to create more stability in your lumbar spine. Learn and consult with trusted experts. I realized I can do less of what's no longer serving me which, in turn, creates a spaciousness for what does. Consequently, part of that plan involves twice-daily sessions of core stability work which includes multiple plank variations. I'm so committed to this that I've got new calluses on my elbows to prove it!

And in the same breath, part of interrupting the busy-ness pattern, I'm offering myself grace to create more space. The past six months have not only been rife with change and loss, but that loss has a term...ambiguous loss.  To get through stressful times, many of us have lost our striving and motivation, relying on our "surge capacity" and apparently I am one of those many. Focused, ambitious, and motivated people have had feelings resembling depression as ambiguous loss is something we can't quite put our finger on and we don't have an end point in sight. Without that, resolution doesn't exist. Here's an insightful article by Tara Haelle that shed light on something I couldn't put my finger on. (click here Surge Capacity)

My thought for the week (and the past several weeks) has been to be okay with doing less. I'm trying not to repeat the pattern of returning home, going back to work, and piling on the to-do list. I'm trying to find grace in saying "no" to what overloads me, and "yes" to what nourishes me. And it isn't easy. No change is easy. It takes grit and discipline and courage. I think I have some of that, so now is the time to call upon it.

How about you? Do you need to do less?

Re-emergence

I am just returning from taking an 8-week hiatus from teaching and doing a few cartwheels along the way. This isn't the time away that we had planned. I canceled three retreats, two in Australia and one in Italy, as well as travel plans through Singapore and Greece. We were meant to be on the road for 10 weeks and, like many others, Covid-19 challenged our ability to let go and be adaptable.

What happened instead has been a reconnection to my childhood roots. Having grown up in Southern California, it was always a magical day to head off to the beach jammed in the back of a station wagon with neighborhood friends and a packed lunch. As we have spent the past 8 weeks exploring coastal California, I found myself reminiscing about those earlier days. Much of the childhood energy of the beach was present today. I guess that's where I first felt the power of the ocean and began my respect of Mother Earth.

Something about the ocean seeps into my soul. Perhaps it's the mesmerizing rhythm of the waves or how the beach is in a constant state of impermanence, it never looks the same and is in a state of change with each wave washing ashore. My husband and I spent literally hours walking along and staring at the ocean. We grew our knowledge of bird and ocean life, enjoyed the sparsity of people, and an abundance of fresh air. Not every day was a sunny day, some were laden with a heavy fog, giving a greater appreciation for when the sun burst out. Our vitamin D levels have been enhanced, our Achilles' tendons stretched and strengthened and our relationship deepened through long strolls and conversations.

The primary message I've received over this time is the importance of looking after myself and managing my needs. "Do less" has been the phrase that emerged. And as I say those words, putting them into action is definitely a challenge. I am pulled to serve others and, at times, ignore the messages from my own body. I have a few personal physical challenges, one of which is managing a long-time back issue which had gotten more painful over the past few months. The result is a stronger focus on doing less in my physical yoga practice and creating more core stability. I have too much movement in my lumbar spine which as a gymnast was a great thing but as a woman in her late 50's, not so great.

Students may notice a shift in my teaching as I re-emerge from this hiatus...I hope so. I've undertaken three courses of study over the past four months in pranayama with Judith Hanson Lasater, Ph.D., spinal health with Dr. Stuart McGill and Bernie Clark, and an anatomical Livestream human form dissection with Dr. Gil Hedley. I continue to be in my year-long mentorship as a Wisdom Keeper in Shamanism through Gaia Wisdom School. I trust these resources will show through in how I serve others.

I look forward to connecting with you and hearing what has been shifting in your world.

Before I go...I'll head to the beach a few more times, bowing to Mother Earth and Father Sky for the lessons and beauty. I'm listening.