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In this very moment, my mind is focused on what I'm doing. I'm at my desk and in the process of writing my weekly blog. Occasionally, my mind drifts away to sounds from the TV in an adjacent room but for the most part, I am here.
At other times throughout my day, I have this roving spotlight of attention. Sometimes it's completely centered on what I'm doing, particularly when I'm in the flow of teaching a class. At other times, I'm thinking about an unpleasant episode that happened at work or worrying about how my Mother is getting along, or wondering if we will ever find peace in the world.
Our minds wander and, like a ping pong ball, our attention tends to bounce around. This is normal...our minds think, just as our hearts beat. My thought for the week is around how you feel when you hold your attention on a particular thought, when you shine your spotlight onto it, how does it feel in your gut?
I know that before I began deepening my personal practice through daily meditation, my spotlight could become fixated on thoughts that were often contrary to being in a good place. I'd focus on what might happen, what this or that person might think, say or do and it was destructive. If the spotlight stayed for extended periods of time, my mood would swing toward despair or depression. It's not as though this doesn't still happen. It does.
But what has shifted is my recognition that it's happening and that in that moment, I find my breath and ask myself, "what might help you shift your perspective in this moment? What is the lesson that is before me? Am I stepping into an old pattern?"
When we realize where we focus our attention and energy, we begin to uncover the connection to how it feels-not just emotionally, but physically. When I notice my attention is on the negative, grumpy, complaining or comparing aspect of life, my jaw clenches, my shoulders tighten and I furrow my brow. I'm in a state that feels lousy, not led by love and compassion. When I direct my energy into those many things that connect me to my higher self, I physically feel lighter and less burdened.
One way to notice where your spotlight is pointing is to catch yourself complaining. Can you go for 30 minutes, one hour, or a whole day without complaining? If this is difficult, it might be a clue as to your M.O. and offer an "a-ha" moment to either turn that spotlight off or onto something that actually feels good in your belly.
Both extremes of the continuum exist at the same time. When there are negative feelings, positive feelings are also present. Yet, we bury them so deeply beneath the negativity, it can take practice to dig them out. And hence, why this is all called a yoga practice. We need to keep at it on a regular basis and surround ourselves with people who offer good vibes, positive comments and an optimistic life perspective.
We are all worthy of shining our light brightly...just try to shine it on the stuff that feeds rather than starves your soul.
Last weekend I attended Shakti Fest, a three-day yoga and music festival held in the high desert of Joshua Tree. I have now been to several Shakti and Bhakti Fests over the past five years with Shakti Fest being smaller than Bhakti Fest (held for four days in early fall). Shakti Fest is a sweet celebration of breath, movement, music, great vegetarian food (masala dosa!) and community.
I go to these events in large part to refuel my own energy tank. A large part of my work is sending energy out to others and holding the space for people to be in whatever experience arises. Following a busy season here in the low desert, my fuel gauge is reading empty. A day at such a festival always begins with my usual morning meditation and then it's off to either a group chanting of the 40-verse Hanuman Chalisa, a yoga class (often outside under a shade canopy) or sitting at the main stage listening to kirtan (devotional chanting). The day continues to unfold in hanging out with friends, old and new, chanting, dancing, eating, resting and listening. It usually culminates late into the evening with a headlining kirtan artist leaving us in an energized, if not ecstatic, state of bliss.
Following the Saturday night kirtan in which Jai Uttal lifted the roof I was in a delicious conversation with two recent graduates of my yoga teacher training. One asked, "How do we hang onto feeling this incredible?"
Great question! We head off to an event, retreat or vacation and the moment we touch down in our familiar home environment the sweetness seems to evaporate all too soon. How can we hold onto such sweetness?
Over the years I've come to realize that the sweetness is magnified when we fill up our own bucket on a regular basis. Meditation teacher, Sharon Salzberg, once told a story of each of us having our own spiritual bucket. If we gaze down into it, we often see that it's empty and echoes easily. Yet, over time, every act we undertake that serves and supports how we want to be in the world, is like adding another drop into our own bucket. The more frequently we act, speak and think in a way that moves us along our spiritual path, the more we build up the contents of our spiritual bucket.
If we step onto our yoga mat only once a week and take nothing off the mat and into our everyday lives, the process will take a long time to fill up our bucket. Yet, if we begin to live from this perspective, every act is another drop.
When I attend these events, it's as though I open up a deluge of drops into my depleted bucket. I intensify my own practice so that when I refuel, I am able to come "off the mountain" and back into the day to day feeling energized, connected and able to lovingly hold the space for all that I do. This is a vital part of maintaining the longevity of how I wish to be in the world, which is feeling so much love and connection that there truly is room for nothing else.
What are you doing to fill up your bucket?
As I write this, I am inspired by the full moon. I've just come into the house having stood barefoot on damp grass with arms outstretched to the luminous sphere. I've been thinking about this full moon since yesterday. I was driving home from dinner with a friend and it was a perfect desert evening with an indigo sky. And there was the nearly full, waxing moon. Perhaps it was the combination of a warm, windless evening, deep sky and the brightness of the sun reflecting off the moon that took my breath away.
It made me curious as to the yogic meanings and significance of the moon. (You've got to love Google...got a question? Google it and your world opens up in an instant.) I knew that some styles of yoga avoid practicing on the full and new (not visible in the night sky) moon, but I didn't really know why. And I know that a woman's menstrual cycle is often referred to as the "moon" cycle and is a time to avoid inversions longer than a minute. So what's the connection?
Chandra is the Sanskrit name for the moon. It represents feminine energy, that which is cool, nurturing, creative, empathic and intuitive. The sun (Surya) is masculine energy being hot,
fiery, linear, analytical and pragmatic. We all have these energetic qualities and, at times, one is more predominant than the other. We also know that the moon effects the ocean's tides and since we too, are largely composed of water, the moon is thought to act on us as well.
When the moon is full, the energy is thought to move out and upward, often in a chaotic and energetic way. This upward movement can lead the yoga practitioner to striving and over-doing their practice, perhaps to such an extent that it leads to injury. The full moon acts as a natural sabbath, a day to rest and connect. When the moon is new, the opposite energy is present, often sluggish, downward moving with lethargy and a lack of concentration being present.
Ideally, the half moon, the phase of the lunar cycle that is in the middle away from the extremes, is a great time to be in your practice. This is represented by the pose Ardha Chandrasana (Half Moon Pose and pictured below). It's a place of symmetry and balance between the extremes.
So much about being on our path is aimed at finding the middle way. That perfect place of harmony between body, mind and spirit. Instead of living at the extremes for any length of time, our healthiest selves come from being in balance. It's how we fluctuate between hot/cold, creativity/analysis, right/left, good/evil and love/hate. Can we step onto our mats, recognize what's out of whack and allow the process of our breath, movement and awareness bring us back to center?
A point of reflection is to notice how you feel when you're overdoing or under-doing anything...work, exercise, food, sleep. What could come into your life that would swing your pendulum back toward the middle? Perhaps doing a few half moon poses between the full and new moon is a starting point.
Ah...La Bella Luna. Not only does it reflect light, it inspires me to connect to my own inner radiance.
This past weekend was one of those times in life with abundant "apex" moments. My thought of the week is to stop and celebrate when those moments are happening, such as graduating 18 students from yoga trainees to yoga teachers.
It all began over a year ago when traveling in India that I received insights about offering a yoga teacher training program. I returned to the States with a firm belief that it was one of those items next on my list. I was once told that I needed to share all that I have learned, that it was part of my dharma (reason for being here) and that it would be adharmic to keep it to myself. Write, speak, teach were part of the instructions in sharing what I knew and a teacher training seemed appealing. I felt called.
In order to offer a teacher training one needs to fulfill a number of requirements as well as the ability to jump through some hoops. I had to create a curriculum outline, set dates, prices, find venues and apply to Yoga Alliance (the credentialing body in the USA). Once you submit the application, you wait for approval. So, I applied and waited...and became my own yoga school.
But would there be enough interest?
An overwhelming yes was the answer to that question with 18 students working through 10 modules over almost 10 months. I wanted to offer a foundation of training that would support the instructors in their future choices, that they would have a strong foundation in alignment, anatomy, communication, modifications and by the end be in a position to teach a safe and fun gentle yoga class.
I don't want to say "Mission Accomplished" but rather "Mission blown out of the water!". Although everyone was taught the same content during the course, everyone displayed their unique style and personality by their final exam (which was teaching a 40-minute class). Each class was interestingly distinct, yet all built on foundational principles...18 different flavors, all reflecting a well- rounded fundamental understanding of yoga.
Our final day was a celebration in a local park. It was time to play. We gathered early where I taught a gentle yoga class joined by family and friends. The ceremony had two lines of trainees on either side of a purple cloth. When a trainee was called, they proceeded to the end of the cloth which was raised into the air as the tunnel of transition. As the trainee stood, I read the outstanding qualities that their fellow students thought of them, "kind, funny, nurturing, professional, precise and calm" were some of the adjectives. Upon reaching the end, they were given a 108 bead mala (meditation necklace), goody bag, choice of a new lululemon yoga mat (thanks for the donation lululemon!) and their much deserved certificate.
This group has grown into its own unique and close knit community. They've been supportive of each other and grown into deep friendships with the resultant undertone being one of authentic gratitude and love for each other. Tears flowed, hugs were abundant and my heart was so full of pride and love that there truly was no room for anything else.
To be given the opportunity to walk your path and share is an incredible gift. I have such trust and excitement in how these newly anointed teachers will ripple out into the community. They all have so much to offer, each in their uniquely beautiful way.
It truly has been an "apex" moment. Congratulations to all!
I can't tell you I know exactly when it all began. All I know is at some point I realized that I was on the path of yoga. It didn't begin with my first class way back in 1994 when I began practicing Iyengar yoga with my first teacher, Murray. The class was held at the University of Melbourne where I was working as the manager of their group exercise program and I walked into the class because it was becoming so incredibly popular with students and colleagues I had to go see what all the buzz was about.
For those of you who practice Iyengar yoga, you know that it is quite particular in sequencing, the use of props and alignment. We never chanted, meditated or spoke about yoga philosophy. Having been a gymnast, it was a practice that I was "good" at, in that I could do many of the poses including inversions, balances and strong standing poses. I enjoyed the practice but it didn't stir my soul. It was all quite physical in the beginning.
My practice took a brief hiatus when we moved to the States. I didn't have a teacher or a studio that drew me in. I would practice on occasion but all quite informally in my own personal training studio. Yet there was always something deep within me that kept yoga in my consciousness. I had a feeling that I'd be drawn back to it, which I was when my husband Ed made a deal with me. One day he said, "I'm getting older and I need to work on my flexibility. I wish you taught yoga." To which I replied, "I'll make you a deal. I'll go and do my yoga certification if you promise to come to classes.". He paused only for a moment and said, "I'll take that deal..." And the rest is history, or so to speak.
It was somewhere in my 200-hour training that the door to yoga philosophy was opened. I knew in those first exposures that I was hungry for more. It was the philosophy of the practice that I had been yearning to explore. And perhaps that's where I took my first genuine and committed steps along this particular spiritual path. I had found a framework that made sense and was a way to begin living my life in a daily way that was practical. It became my practice.
I have always had a spiritual curiosity. Dear friends in Australia and I would meet on a regular basis to drink wine, eat food and discuss the latest "new age" teachings and ideas. Looking back, so much of what we were talking about emerged from the ancient yogic philosophies now wearing a modern age outfit.
In walking along this path, I knew that I wanted to become conscious about how I was living my life. I wanted to choose how I was on a daily basis, to be present with the people in front of me from a place of compassion and love. I wanted to enter into a better relationship with my physical body, from a place of acceptance and gratitude. I knew that if I began to practice these ancient teachings, that I could more authentically ask others to practice them as well. The saying of "walking the talk" has been important to me and I clearly remember setting a firm intention to do so from a genuine place. But that wasn't the only reason. It felt right on the deepest level of my own being. If I were to never teach it to anyone else, I knew in my heart that it was the missing piece to my own joy.
In looking back over my own evolution, I have no doubt that I have found my feet firmly embedded on this path. It doesn't mean it's the right path for everybody and we all need to find what sparks that indescribable pull to higher realms. Many paths, one truth. That truth for me is via these ancient teachings-the path of yoga. My wish is that we all may find what resonates deep within us and follow it.
Listen to the inner voice...it's full of wisdom.
Having taught yoga and movement for several years, I have seen many people in many different postures. At times, I glance across the room and everyone looks lined up and centered. And at others...not so much. Take Half Moon (Ardha Chandrasana) as pictured above. For those unfamiliar with yoga, this might look just fine in their eyes. She's hanging out in this pose, spreading limbs in many directions and perhaps they're wondering, "hey, could I do that?"
For the initiated, they might notice a few things about the pose. For better alignment, the angle of her standing foot could point toward the block, which would externally rotate her leg and not put her knee joint in an awkward position. She's flexing at her hips, throwing her torso in a forward position (and her backside pressing backward not lining up over her base of support) and her top raised arm looks as though it's drifting behind her, as if detached from the rest of her torso.
From a teaching perspective the above picture is a juicy opportunity to offer adjustments that might make the pose feel better and more integrated with the rest of her body.
When watching many people practice yoga I often notice how disconnected people are from where parts of their body are in space. When people lift their leg behind them and are asked to "straighten" their knee joint, it's as though because they can see it, they can't straighten it. Similarly, for poses where the torso revolves with an extended arm reaching out from the side. The arm tends to drift behind the lateral (side) plane of the body into a seemingly unknown realm, behind the body adding an odd lift into the shoulder.
It begs the question, "Is being disconnected from our body in a yoga pose a reflection from being disconnected from other areas of our life?" When we have little idea as to the relationship of where our arm is reaching, is it similar to where our minds are wandering? How often do you actually notice the negative self-talk? How long does it rattle on before you say to yourself, "Hey! Pipe down in there...this isn't serving me!" Or when you unconsciously repeat a phrase such as "ya know?"or "Now we're gonna..." My husband (thankfully) broke my "ya know" habit by interrupting me every time I'd say it, which was often.
Raising consciousness can begin on our mats through our asana (physical) practice. When we begin to create a clearer connection to what is happening in our body, our mind builds a new bridge of awareness to the experience. Over time, we continue to fine tune our knowledge of what's happening in our body, so much so that we whittle down the point of focus to the pinkie toe and the right side of the rib cage. We sense and feel at a deeper level which is reflected in how our practice feels. When we begin to step toward this the practice gains a sense of ease, grace and flow.
The same can happen in our mental chatter. When we begin to notice and interrupt the dialogue that is negative, unflattering or destructive, we begin to move toward thoughts and words that are supportive, gentle and loving.
Yet one thing needs to happen before the magic can begin. We need to roll out our mats and step on. It also helps to have a competent and aware teacher to guide us in our process and be the spark that lights the flame toward self-love.
The other day I saw a post on Facebook from a friend in Colorado who had just posted picture of a fresh snowfall. Meanwhile, I'm sitting in the desert of Southern California, early spring where the temperatures are warm enough to wear shorts and tees, looking at this picture and thinking, "Brrrr...that looks cold. Why don't you move back to California?" And perhaps this friend was thinking something similar. Yet another storm has dropped snow and many people might be thinking "enough already!"
The one year my family lived in Iowa, the arrival of the first snowstorm was nothing short of magical. It was cold but incredibly fun to romp in, have snowball fights and enjoy the pristine quiet that often comes with snow. By the time April rolled around though with even more snow, it wasn't quite so magical and everyone was yearning for spring to break through.
My thought of the week was obviously sparked by the image of yet another storm compounding the already long, cold winter. Why is it that what initially seems so lovely and easy can have a different feeling over time? Same snow, different experience. Perhaps a primal piece exists within us that can tolerate a certain level of change and challenge. We adapt to the newness of a situation and cruise along without any great fluster. Yet, if we have a sequence of things happen that seem to come one after the other, it all seems to "snowball" (no pun intended!) disproportionately out of control. What initially was manageable seems to have spun away from us and now is heading toward the feeling of overwhelm. Add fatigue into the equation from lack of sleep or long hours working, then managing anything outside of what's spinning out of control is near impossible.
Sound familiar?
Someone described a parallel thought around risk factors and heart disease. If a person had one risk factor, it seemed to be somewhat manageable, but if they had two, three or four risk factors it multiplied exponentially and increased dramatically the chances of suffering from a heart related incident. In these cases, 1+1 doesn't equal two, but much more than that.
At times where we have a multitude of factors influencing us, how we manage ourselves through these experiences can make the difference between it being an acknowledged fullness to life to a feeling of dread and inability to handle it. When I see people in these states of overwhelm or find myself in one I am reminded to look after myself on the most fundamental level by nourishing with healthy food choices, getting plenty of sleep, breaking things into manageable chunks and slowing down!
Overwhelm is a sign of imbalance, something is outta whack. Yoga is about the practice of finding and establishing balance, living in that place where our bodies, minds and inner selves are in harmony. And often, when things spin out of control, one of the first things we surrender is time spent on our own selves. Instead, step ONTO the mat, not away from it. Realize that taking time to breathe and move the body, to sit quietly and reflect are the perfect antidote to what can manifest as feeling that life is heavy.
So, if you're living through yet another snowstorm, enjoy the beauty as this too shall pass. It might be your last chance for months to build another snowman!
