How Yoga Saved My Life ~ Part 2

(***This post got long so I broke it down into two parts. You can read Part 1 here.)

Teacher training was like rehab. It was the only period of my adult life that I was not only sober but abstinent. I felt like I had grown wings.

But, as folks like me are wont to do, I went to another extreme. Yoga became the end all be all of my existence; all my time, money, thoughts, everything was spent on furthering my practice. I put famous yoga teachers up on pedestals. I couldn't imagine dating someone who wasn't a "yogi" (that's a killer story for another time, maybe). I never threw down for the $98 yoga pants, but I came damn close.

Luckily (I can say that now in retrospect), my yoga bubble got popped in a spectacular fashion. You can read about it here, also here. Then, my favorite teacher moved away and I felt un-tethered from everything that had been keeping me sane. The months after that were spent in deep reflection: once again, I was searching outside of myself for the answers that nobody but me could discover.

Gingerly, and after great contemplation, I got down from my high horse. I took a step back from teaching. I went back to basics, creating my practice anew, asking my inner teacher the next step to take, rather than mimicking what I *thought* a "real" yogi would do.

I'm sharing all these things (even though it's super scary to be this honest) because as I go deeper and deeper with my business, and deeper and deeper into life, I have to be as authentic as possible: not only because I am in the business of serving others, but because I need a way to hold myself accountable to the commitments I've made to myself--and to my soul; to the world I want to create and in which I want to participate. I share these things because I want you all to know that when I talk about health and wellness and living a full, inspired, healthy, creative life, I am not pulling something out of my ass or from some book I read; I have struggled hugely with simply being who I am, in all my flawed glory.

The biggest thing I'm getting is that I have a choice in all this. I can choose to make the process the goal, instead of waiting for some mythical future to arrive where I have the perfect body, all the money, a nice apartment, work that fulfills me, and the freedom to play and travel as much as I want. I can choose happiness, health, wealth, love, creativity, and joy in the nitty gritty of every day life--instead of fleeing reality. I can wake up every day and commit again and again to discovering the extraordinary in the ordinariness of daily life. When I can focus on the process and remove the pressure of the fabled end result, a freedom and clarity arises that I never thought possible; what's more, when I choose the things I'm committed to, instead of worrying over what I want to avoid, my life rises up in support of those choices. I am no longer at the mercy of past patterns; now, I have a say in the matter.

I am grateful for a life of moderation. Now, my antennae perk up anytime I start to tilt too far into extreme territory--it's only challenging when it's something perceived as "healthy" (Paleo, anyone!?). These days, I find infinite solace in early bedtimes, home-cooked meals, a daily writing practice and a return to my first love, dance. I still practice yoga, the difference is that now it's one of many tools in my toolbox, rather than the ONLY ONE.

If I were to consolidate all of this into some type of advice it would be thus: Find a daily practice. Doesn't matter what it is--but make sure to do it every day. Eat good food, and plenty of it. Get to bed early and take lots of naps. Move your body in a way that makes you feel strong and vital. Ask for help when you feel stuck. Go on vacation as much as possible, even if all you can swing are weekend trips here and there. Celebrate your accomplishments, especially the seemingly "little"ones. And most of all, TRUST THE PROCESS. Otherwise, you'll miss out on life, and, as we all know, this is the only one we get.

I usually don't share Hafiz or Rumi poems (years of hearing them in nearly every yoga class kinda killed the magic for me); this is too appropriate not to share (and maybe it's time for me to give up that story, too):

Cast Your Votes for Dancing

Hafiz

I know the voice of depression

still calls to you.

I know those habits that can ruin your life

Still send their invitations.

But you are with the friend now

And look so much stronger.

You can stay that way

And even bloom!..

Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins

That may buy you just a moment of pleasure, 

But then drag you for days,

Like a broken man

Behind a farting camel.

O keep squeezing drops of the Sun

From your prayers and work and music

And from your companions' beautiful laughter

And from the most insignificant movements

Of your own holy body.

Now, sweet one,

Be wise.

Cast all your votes

for dancing!

This Saturn Return Business is No Joke Y'all

So I've been dealing with some pretty hefty growing pains over the last few months. It's been interesting how taking responsibility for every aspect of my life is bringing out all sorts of behavior I thought was long behind me-all tried and true coping mechanisms from my party girl past. Building a business is only a part. As I get clearer and clearer of my message, I am forced to get clearer and clearer on what my life is for. Mostly what I'm experiencing is a whole lot of resistance. I see what needs to be done, I map it out, I have a vision; but I can't for the life of me get into action. Can you relate? I'm finally getting my act together, but it took me getting so SICK of myself that I finally couldn't avoid it anymore.

Good thing I can blame it on my Saturn Return. (Click the links, it's some juicy astrological tish, yo).

Back to the growth spurt. My ego is one fucked up asshole sometimes, no lie. It's doing everything it can to distract me from all the actions I know I need to be taking, to forward all the grown up aspects of my life (finances, career, home, relationships-you know, all the things that make you an ADULT, people).

These pains are normal, my mind groks that--I know life is change and growth and when these natural processes stop I'll be dead. As a coping mechanism, I've been trying to think of myself as a butterfly (a caterpillar, really), going through metamorphosis. I know it's a bit dramatic but it helps when I'm hard on myself, or life feels sticky, to remember that some gorgeous stuff is getting cooked up in all this gunk. Especially on the days I feel like I'm doing everything I can to avoid change; the days when everything feels completely insurmountable and I can barely get out of bed. 

As if

Today in my morning pages I got that I am NOT A BUTTERFLY, and not only am I not a butterfly, I don't want to be one! 

I am a snake.

Shedding all the old ways, like a skin; a skin that's grown too tight. It doesn't slip off easily, like a coat or a jacket; it's itchy and unbearable - until - finally, it's all slithered through, the old casing a dusty shell. The head is the last to go. And it's not the last skin to be left behind...

Bring it

Anyway, I feel like I'm just starting to slither out. It's tight and near suffocating sometimes but I have to be patient and allow the new, fresh skin to reveal itself. What kind of snake do I want to be?

All this work, of being human, expanding oneself, committing to having a life of one's dreams: it's not pretty little butterflies. It is a snake shedding its skin. It's tight, dry, and above all, SLOW. It's not particularly glamourous.

More to come.

Palm to palm

If you've read my bio, you know that consistent yoga practice played a massive part in my overall well being  and brought me back from an edge I almost threw myself over back in 2007-2008.

Where did I go?

This past year, some major drams in my yoga world went down, my favorite teacher moved out of state, and, for a short time, I took on managing a yoga studio. It was the perfect storm for some serious yoga burnout. I started to forget why I ever bothered to roll my mat out in the first place. I considered cross-fit. I let go of my public class. I walked away.

...and through the doors of another studio, one that's been around for a while but I'd never attended (there was never a need). Where I was anonymous, and completely oblivious to the "cool" teachers or established cliques among the student base. Where the practice was strong, and consistent and dependable and varied. No complicated demos. No clapping. My focus started to come back.

There is this moment at the beginning of class where people are kind of awkwardly waiting for the teacher to go ahead and start, still with a foot outside the studio, brain engaged still in to-do lists and post yoga class meals and errands and conversations and all the STUFF of being human and living in a city and trying TO GET SHIT DONE, you know? I know. That's me much of the time. Shallow breathing and disconnect. Searching for something deeper than the superficial grittiness of it all. Unable to sit still even for those first three minutes tops before the teacher sits down and says hello and then:

"Close your eyes and put your palms together."

And that's all it takes sometimes, for the breath to deepen, the skin to relax, the tension in the jaw/forehead/scapulae/heart to quiet; to return to that space of remembering. There I sat last week, palm to palm, tears brimming at the corners of my eyes, as I sat and sang and sweated for an hour and fifteen minutes, fully present with my sweet self.

So often this practice that is intended to bring us deeper inside instead becomes one more thing that pulls us off our center. Celebrity teachers with cult followings, $98 yoga pants, lack of diversity (cultural, body type, socioeconomic background just to name a few)--these do not in any way reflect the aforementioned sweetness, and I'll be the first to admit I got caught up in the hype. I forgot what it felt like to be perfectly content with me as me, and started looking outside of myself for answers. That's where the breakdown happened.

What practices in your life bring you closer to you? Performing? Working your garden? Being with your dog or cat? Writing? Being in nature? Meditation? Travel? Art? Little by little, these practices help us carve new paths down old roads until the edges start to smooth. Guard these moments vigilantly. Create space and put it in your calendar. Be unwavering in this commitment to yourself because really, what else is there? If we can bolster and strengthen those moments where we connect to source, when shit hits the fan we know what to do. It's not like it doesn't suck, or terrible things don't happen; no amount of wishful thinking will keep the bad at bay. But what a gift to experience the lows while staying connected to the truth: that we are already whole and complete. For me it's palm to palm; what are your practices?

On Contraction and Expansion, Part I

Ay, fall, the time of year that is historically the juiciest for me. Summer fades away, and there I am, kicking and screaming, sad to see her go, only to be blessedly most pleasantly surprised time and time again by autumn's warm embrace. In this case, quite literally, it's nearly Halloween and the temperatures in the city have been upwards of 85 degrees for the past 10 days at least...

Summer is officially over and, despite the unseasonable heat, there is no denying the sweet signs of fall. The light is jamming in at crooked angles and everything seems backlit with an almost amber glow; although the trees don't really change color here (they kind of go from vivid green to dry and dead almost overnight), the streets are filling with leaves, the branches growing more and more visible every day. It's hard to explain, but things feel slower; despite living in a go-go-go culture (where I feel guilty on the days I come home and take a nap after work instead of doing something productive), if you take a closer look you'll notice a stillness, albeit a subtle one, as we innately, collectively prepare for the impending cold season.

One of the things yoga helps us align with are our natural rhythms, but also the rhythms of the world in which we inhabit. How can yoga do this you may ask? I think it has to do with the fact that it starts with a deep inner listening, both in general on the mat as we move into physical postures but also off the mat--within relationships, both professional and personal, and even more importantly, with the relationship we have with ourselves. The rich inner landscape we cultivate on our mats translates exactly to the way we walk in the world, the way we treat ourselves and each other.

It is with these ideas in mind that I wish to examine within the coming days/weeks this idea of moving into a more natural rhythm, even within the hustle and bustle of city life, how our yoga practice correlates; I'll also make a case for why we feel the way we do depending on the time of year, and how bringing an awareness to this aspect of our lives can help us make better sense of the world and our place in it, and ideally help us to go a little easier on ourselves.

That's a tall order, so go easy on me. And let me know if I'm going overboard on the semi-colons while you're at it.

photo credit: flora douville