Steadiness

"However the seed is planted, in that way the fruit is gathered" is a Buddhist saying which seems particularly pertinent to this week's theme of being steady in our practice. It's not about balance but about showing up consistently into some form of our practice. It's during challenging times, such as this global pandemic, that we are seeing what fruit we are harvesting based upon choices we've previously made. What have you been digging into your soil? Is it ripe and juicy or heading for the compost bin?

So many of us come to yoga initially through the doorway of the physical practice. When we move into different postures, we get immediate feedback as to what is happening. I'm tight, flexible, have amazing/awful balance, experience pain, feel I'm getting stronger, etc. Instant gratification in the practice sends a message that whatever we're doing in the present moment must be doing something and perhaps even "working"! And over time, we often see our pain decrease, our mobility improves, and our stability gain strength.

Results we don't see as quickly are the elements that are more subtle...the practices of meditation, mindfulness, solitude, stillness, deep relaxation and quiet can have an elusive feel of "is this doing anything?" I had many false starts in my meditation practice because I didn't fully understand how much it would enhance my life as the end goal wasn't apparent. Well, let me share something with you...there is no end goal. Only the present moment, which happens to ripple out into our future moments.

One of the most profound lessons I had in establishing a long-term daily meditation practice happened in July 2006, when I was studying yoga therapy. We had two separate two-week blocks of intensive study, separated by five weeks. Toward the end of the first two weeks, I sat with a meditation teacher who gave me a practice for the time of our break...30-minutes of daily meditation. I had all sorts of reasons as to why that would be nearly impossible for me to do and unconsciously tried to negotiate my way to a different deal. I would have to get up earlier than I already did and that was already pretty early.  I wouldn't be able to remember the mantra. 30-minutes seemed like a long time, could I do less?

Wanting to be a good yoga student, I left the training, and each day for the next five weeks, I got up earlier, sat in meditation, and practiced my mantra. As I returned to the facility and was setting up my tent (my sacred home for the next two weeks), I saw my meditation teacher and just about sprinted up to her saying, "I did it! I've meditated every day since I've seen you!" Her response as she dryly looked at me was, "okay". 

What?! That's it? No pat on the back? No words of "You're amazing, what a fantastic yoga student you have become!". No public acknowledgment of my efforts. No golden certificate of accomplishment? It was a major light bulb moment. The practice wasn't for anything but me. No ego. No glory. And perhaps a smidge of ego wants to share with you is that I haven't missed one day of meditation since that time. Not one. No matter where I am in the world, my daily sitting has seeped into my being so deeply that it is part of who I am. It's as though not doing my daily practice would feel like leaving the house without brushing my teeth.

If I were to name a benefit of the steadiness of the practice is that I don't fall apart when things get challenging. It doesn't mean times aren't hard, but my reaction to the stressful times doesn't tear me apart. I'm able to better surf the waves of uncertainty and I notice it particularly now. My practice has a sweetness to it that I hadn't noticed before. It's one part of my life that hasn't been impacted by the global pandemic. It's that part of me that is "normal".

The teaching this week is about digging into our yoga soil on a daily basis by undertaking some aspect of our practice whether it be rockin' a challenging vinyasa practice, taking three mindful breaths, or just laying down on the mat and not doing anything. The support and impact of our practice may not be noticeable and obvious, yet we glimpse it in moments when we're looking for solace and grace.

Perhaps this is the time to deepen the quality of your practice and welcome, honor, and acknowledge the beautiful gift of consistency. And perhaps this is the time to find gratitude to the steps you have been taking to enrich self-care and self-love, to honor our teachers who have shown the way, and to remember that we are all part of a great and powerful lineage of practitioners of this life-affirming art. The art of our individual practice brought forth throughout the millennia.

Trust Yourself First

The United States of America is comprised of 50 states, and over 3000 counties. Each one of these entities has an opinion and "guidelines" as to how to slowly re-emerge back into the public sphere amidst the Covid pandemic. After 10 weeks of being more or less self-quarantined, it's no wonder that it can be utterly confusing as to how we poke our heads out of our own isolated burrows. Who do we listen to? Who do we trust?

The theme this week is based on words spoken by my teacher, Judith Hanson Lasater, who often says "trust yourself first". What she's referring to is having confidence in the internal signals our body provides as being our main authority, rather than placing it on something outside of us (i.e., a yoga teacher, in this scenario). It's a lesson that unfolds over time as when we first step onto our yoga mat, we're looking for guidance from the teacher. Being a neophyte practitioner, we have little inclination as to what is "right or wrong", so we turn outward. Over time, however, we deepen the inner conversation between our sensations of the practice and our interpretation of them. We learn through consistency to turn inward for answers.

I get irked when people say, "listen to your body" and leave it at that. Often, my body says I'm irritated and I don't know what to do about it. I'm therefore grateful that I was taught and share three questions to ask ourselves whenever we're practicing. We ask:

1. Does this feel safe in my body?
2. Will I be okay tomorrow?
3. Do I have pain? If yes, rate it on a scale of 1-10 and don't dial up the pain during the practice.

These three questions get more specific as to how to "listen to the body". We begin to rely on and deepen our interoceptive ability, the "inner listening" skill of the body-mind. It empowers us to take responsibility of choice in the practice, it IS your body and you are its greatest authority.

Related to trusting ourselves is the energy of the Manipura, or third chakra, located at the solar plexus. This energy center is guided by the element of fire and can be deeply transforming. Just a few months ago, our community was raising money for the fire relief efforts in Australia. As we watched the images of a large swath of the country burning, it left a feeling of deep grief, loss, and change, not only for the habitat but for the plants and animals that called it home. When I now see images of the burnt landscape, sprouts of green are emerging and it's a different heartache. Things have definitely been transformed, it was unpleasant and looks different, but a rebirth is happening and over time a new landscape will emerge.

The same can be said for our current experience. We are being transformed through a global pandemic and it's really uncomfortable. Yet, if we feel the pain of it and acknowledge the transient nature of the experience, we too will emerge in our own type of rebirth.

Now is the time as we step back out in the greater community to recognize that we've been burned by a force more powerful than us and to trust ourselves in how far and wide we wish to roam. Now is the time to tap into our own power centers, held within the energy of the third chakra, and stand strongly in what feels right for us individually. Feel into the experience of the loosening restrictions and ask yourself, "Does this feel safe in my body" and trust the answer. You can't get it wrong.

No Easy Answers

Inspired by a conversation with a friend, one whom I regard as a top medical professional and who keeps her finger on the pulse and always working from a place of compassion, I realized that if they didn't have straight-forward answers, one probably doesn't exist. Rats. I was hoping for that golden nugget of info to provide a more solid sense of direction and answers to my questions. You know, the same questions so many of us are having: Is it safe to re-open? Will people show up to the business if I do? Will I be at great risk? Will people have to wear a mask during a yoga class? Should I get tested? If yes, how often? What does this all mean? What is the meaning of life? 

Okay, well maybe not that last question, but I recognize that without easy answers our stress levels will likely continue to rise.

So, as I often do when faced with difficulty, I turn to my practice. This week I have been teaching about finding ease within the moment, even if we don't have easy answers by looking for the sweet spot of experience in both the physical and meditative parts of our practice. Looking to the Sutras of Patanjali, 2:46 seems the perfect aphorism to place our focus. Sthira Sukham Asanam which according to T.K.V Desikachar means: "Asana must have the dual qualities of alertness and relaxation. When postures are properly practiced there must be an alertness without tension and relaxation without dullness or heaviness." In other words, a balance of tension exists between trying too hard or not hard enough. 

For many of us, this concept of not trying too hard is quite foreign. It wasn't until I delved in the practice of yoga that it was suggested that I "do less and back off from trying so hard..." It had been deeply ingrained in me that in order to achieve "results" I needed to tolerate some level of discomfort and suffering. So the idea of finding ease when things are difficult is something I've been trying to learn. 

We can get to know this notion through our physical practice. If I harken back to my early physical education studies, we learned about gross motor movement. For example,  
when we first learn downward facing dog in yoga, we are taught to have our hips and hands about shoulder-width, pressing into the hands as we lift our knees from the earth and our tail toward the sky, ending up in a "V" like shape. Yep...the basic mechanics of how to create a shape with the body to resemble the desired pose. Over time and with consistent practice, we refine the pose and our sensations associated with it. We begin to move toward fine motor skills, where a small adjustment of the position of the mound of our index finger, or slight outward turning of our heels alters the experience. We can feel the subtleties that take us more deeply into the language of our body and notice how the mind and breath are reacting. We learn to adjust our position in order to find the sweet place between how much effort is needed and where we can let go of striving to make it different or "better".

I've been encouraging students this past week to embody the energy of Goldilocks (not the bit about her breaking into the bears' house and messing with their stuff) but around finding "just right".  If your proverbial Papa Bear's bed is too hard or Baby Bear's bed too soft, fine-tune your experience toward Mama Bear's bed. How that translates is paying attention to your experience and inviting both sense of ease and applying the "just right" amount of effort.

On a final note, also notice that when we ask questions we turn outside of ourselves. Take some time to get quiet and turn into yourself and ask, "What is it that I'm needing?" You might be surprised that the easiest answer is laying within.

Impermanence

I've done the math. Each year, we have the opportunity to see 12 full moons and every seven years or so we get 13. I'm 57 years old which means I've had the opportunity to view approximately 687 full moons. Now given that I probably paid no attention to the moon in the first couple of decades of life and not every full moon is visible either because of clouds, my sleep patterns, or forgetfulness, the number decreases significantly. I can remember certain full moons with my favorite one being at the Desert Trip music festival as a harvest moon rose behind the stage as Neil Young was singing Harvest Moon...this one is etched in my "ooh ahh" memory book forever!

It is said that we see what we are manifesting and creating in life by the light of the full moon and what is present is what we planted previously during a New Moon. The moon also has no source of light but is simply reflecting the light of the sun...it's showing us the brilliance from another source. Its energy is thought to be cool and feminine, hence, the menstrual cycle is often referred to as the "Moon Cycle". And in a vinyasa flow yoga class, we'll sometimes practice "Moon Salutes" (Chandra Namaskar) which are more gentle, slower, and perhaps more "cooling" than the fiery, masculine Sun Salutes (Surya Namaskar).

How this relates to this week's theme is through the concept of impermanence. Each time I've seen a full moon, it has never been exactly the same. The color, position, time of day, and amount of exposure varies. If we stepped out every night to check out the moon, it would look different every time. It reminds us that life moves in cycles which is exactly the reminder I needed this past week...that this Covid-19 impacted time is also impermanent. It won't be like it is now, forever, although, at times, social isolation feels interminable. 

The cool thing about this week's full moon is that it's the last "Super Moon" we'll have in 2020, meaning its position is relatively close to Earth. It's also a Super Moon in Scorpio, also called the "Buddha Moon", as it is thought that the Buddha was born, became enlightened, and died under such a moon. This Super Scorpio Moon is also affecting the tides due to gravitational forces between the Sun, Moon, and Earth. As I sat with the many puzzle pieces of this time and felt into the emotional temperature of myself and others, this week is not only about impermanence but about the element of water. 

The second Chakra, known as the Svadistana Chakra, has the element of water and is connected to emotions, sensuality, sexuality, and a form of physical creativity. So, as our moods are pushed around by our current situation and with the presence of a powerful moon, it felt completely right to think of how things in life are constantly changing. A quote from Lion's Roar, a Buddhist magazine, stated that "Change is always both good and bad, because change, even when it's refreshing, always entails loss." 

Our current times have created an epic shift in people's lives on a global scale. Some of the changes feel invigorating to me with a re-imagining of my business model, thinking from a different perspective, seeing the fruits of my yoga practice supporting me during a difficult time, and observing a burst of beauty and abundance in the natural environment. Yet at the same time, I sense loss. I haven't been able to hug my Mom or friends in two months or hand graduating certificates to my Yoga Teacher trainees. My travel plans for the summer are likely altered and I can't just "pop" into the store to pick up something on my way home. Yet at the same time, I feel incredibly grateful to be able to keep working and connecting to my purpose on a daily basis. I have safety and food and massive amounts of love.

Yep...it's an emotional time, even if we don't quite know how to articulate what we're feeling. 

This week has been about reminding ourselves about a few things. This too shall pass. All emotions are valid. Notice when you're getting caught up in an emotional loop that becomes destructive and come to your practice to help shift things. Show up for yourself and know that self-care starts with believing in your own value. Breathe...deeply, slowly, and often. 

And finally, go outside, put your feet on the earth and take some time to soak in the beauty of the moon. She'll show you a different phase every time and remind you of the present moment and to trust the unfolding of a different ending tomorrow.

Spinning Out

When my husband and I traveled to Japan in 2016, we had the cool experience of taking the bullet train, rapidly from city to city. As I peered out the windows, towns, and countryside would be whizzing past, so much so, it was difficult to truly see anything with clarity...it was all a blur. And that's what it feels like when my mind begins to spin out. It's as though I've hopped back onto one of those bullet trains and am rushing into out of control thoughts. The latest notice for me is when I begin to think about the future. If I hop on that train, whoosh! Off I go into the imaginary future of what might, could, should happen. And at the same time, I have little idea as to what will actually happen but I insist on riding the train for a little bit longer.

Thinking about the future and trying to plan for it isn't an undesirable thing. At the moment, I'm re-imagining what my business model looks like. After seven weeks of teaching online via Zoom and having my physical yoga studio closed, it seems prudent to think about the future and how I might serve others and what form does that take? I know I want to keep offering my services and, thus far, it has been serving both me and my students. The time to get off the speeding train is when I go too far out and imagine all that could happen. Will people get Zoom burn-out and stop showing up? Will I be able to keep the business going? Will I burn out without the in-person feedback from students and interaction with others? What will our busy season look like? Will the snowbirds flock back or is this the way it's going to be for...blah, blah, blah. GET OFF THE TRAIN before it begins to create more suffering.

Thank goodness for the compass of a yoga practice, one that's been built over a couple of decades, creating a firm footing for my unsteady mind meanderings. What helps us disembark the wayward train is turning to what supports us. This week we have turned to the Sutras of Patanjali, 196 aphorisms that succinctly support us in taking action in finding greater ease and peacefulness in our lives. In particular, the Sutra smack dab in the beginning of the discourse, Sutra 1:2 - Yogas Citta Vrtti Nirodha. The translation that resonates with me for this Sutra is, "Yoga requires the calming of the fluctuations of the mind". The keyword in that sentence is requires. In other words, in order for us to be in a state of harmony/union (yoga), our minds must be calm and the mental agitations (vrttis) need to lessen. If our minds aren't calm, the other aspects of who we are also out of balance--body, emotions, and spirit aren't in a state of equanimity and a state of disconnection are present. 

Thankfully, the other magical dose within the Sutras is the way we can practice achieving more and more states of ease through undertaking things such as yoga poses, breath work, turning inward, concentration and mindfulness as well as becoming more aware of how we act in our world (think compassion, truthfulness, appreciating abundance) and evolve in our individual selves (think continued study, disciplined effort, and contentment).

One of the keys to understanding where to launch into our practice is to open awareness to what's triggering the imbalance in the first place. I hop on the mind train in thinking about the future and wanting to be able to control outcomes. Others have expressed their challenges during these challenging times--- loud noises; worry about what's next and not knowing; loss of control and conditions where the outcome is unknown; too much news; everything all at once; thinking about the future of the younger generations; being stuck in the house; health and pain; being effective in the new normal for family, clients, and friends; trying to be all to everyone; trying to fix everything, and being unable to do anything to change the course of events. 

Yep...it seems as though there's an endless list of things to worry about. So this week, simply notice when these thoughts are no longer serving you and ask yourself, "What can I do to bring myself back into this present moment?" Do I need to move my body, take some deep breaths, undertake a creative project, speak to a supportive and inspiring friend, acknowledge my gratitude's, or simply sit quietly? Perhaps all of these will help but one thing for certain is that consistently coming into your practice will likely tap into all of these areas.

When you find yourself spinning out, place your hand on your heart and say, "I am in my heart...listening. Listening."