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.