Two days ago, on my email, I received what I thought was a spam for bogus financial help. It read, “Dear Kate, I am Habib and I am very sorry to tell you I have lost everything when Earthquake and Tsunami happened here in Japan. I am in a very very hard condition. I have no job, no food, and no money. Please help me all of you as much as can. I request from my heart to you. I was going to die, but my life was saved. I have lost everything else. I have set up PayPal account kahnhabib@yahoo.co.jp by a kind heart person. Kindly ask to all devotees, friends and in your yoga teaching classes for their kind help for me. Best regards to you, in divine love together, Habib Khan.”

I was ready to hit delete when I realized I knew Habib and have spoken to him occasionally for years. He is Indian and in the 1960s and 70s was the driver for Neem Karoli Baba, a saint in the Himalayas. His stories are always wonderful. He chauffeured a saint through mysteries and wonders. Talking with him was hearing about a level of consciousness beyond any of my previous experience. It was a place where everything is connected with ease and lightness, the union which is the real aim of yoga.

Then out of the blue I received this email. Yes, the Tsunami happened. I’ve been in touch with Japanese friends who were there. But this sounded like a fabricated spam letter, the kind you get from someone saying their passport and money and airline tickets have been stolen, please wire money instantly so they can return home.

Later that night I talked to Habib on Skype and heard how the Tsunami had really devastated the country. It is much worse than anything we hear about, and the earthquakes continue. He said you never know, but every other day there is something, a tremor, a flood, sickness, radiation leakage… enough to keep people from sleeping at night, children wearing helmets to bed. Enough to take away the confidence in the world they are living in, with jobs and food and family and health. Nothing is taken for granted. There is deep psychological trauma and people’s economic lives are in ruins.

Habib is truly suffering, holding the weight of the biggest earthquake and nuclear disaster in history in the microcosm of his life. He is a yoga teacher, an English teacher, as I was in Japan twenty years ago. Now he has only two students left, his others have left the area and others are looking for any work to keep going. I thought it would be great if yoga classes were packed and people were meditating and practicing yoga to cope. But right now everyone is just trying to survive.

In my own life I have been thinking about Santosha, one of the Niyamas (restraints) of the eight-limbed yoga. Santosha means contentment, not coveting more than you have and not taking more than you need, renouncing the desire to acquire. It is liberating, not needing so MUCH to be happy, and becoming free of the chattering mind and the insatiable wanting of the ego. The contentment of Santosha means a change of perspective to what we have instead of what we don’t have. The cup of suffering that maybe half full or half empty is always full when there is contentment.

Santosha is a gateway to Tapasya. Tapasya, or straightening by fire, is austerity, bringing heat to burn through impurities. It is taps the “essential energy” which leads toward purification and enlightenment.

Asana practice is a perfect place to explore this. As years go by I see how my yoga practice mirrors all that is happening in my body-mind-spirit. Some days it’s smooth and exhilarating, sometimes stiff and tired. If I face where I AM, not where I think I should be, or where I was yesterday, then I am in Santosha. If I drop into that place completely, experience the bliss and life force, there is the urge to go deeper, rinse the cells with oxygen, stretch the muscle fibers in all possible directions, be fluid in the joints, stay a little longer in the pose to feel the muscles strengthen and support. Then there is the breath, going deeper, taking it in more on the inhale, releasing more on the exhale.

In yoga practice Santosha means knowing what is enough, how to let go of what is excessive. In the asana balance is not a state of inertia, it is a constant dance, refining and redefining the center. From the center all things evolve. Santosha says I do not need any more, who I am is the quiet eye of the storm where it is peaceful, timeless and loving.

Teaching or studying yoga is a privilege and a humbling journey. People in the yoga community commit to deepening their involvement and their practice every day. Yoga is a gift, a blessing in itself. Imagine if there were no studios, no students, no teachers, no safe environment, no clean air to breathe, no food or water to sustain our bodies, no shelter at night. For me the darkness of Habib’s circumstance contrasts with the light of the blessings that are here and now, in a yoga studio, in a sangha. There is suffering here but there is also health, ease, joy and abundance. But we are all in it together. Habib said he remains alive now to share and to inform others.

Speaking with Habib, reminding him that friends and his extended family are with him, that people are gathering and sending support, moved him deeply. I saw him shift from despair to feeling the love from this very extended family – of which we are all members.

Consistent practitioner or not, your yoga can provide you with access to your most valuable creative potential: your ability to pay attention.

This summer I’m exploring the energy vortices in my body known as the Chakras, and I am looking forward to my sharing my understanding with the community at Yoga Shanti. Whatever your current focus, the amount of understanding you glean from any endeavour correlates directly to your level of attentiveness. Period. Pay attention; you’re listening. When you listen, you learn. When you’re learning, life is way more interesting and inspiring, and there is more love in your environment. Would you like some of that?

Proposal: choose one aspect of your daily life that is consistently frustrating. Kids, spouse, some glitch in the routine, work, something.

For one week, keep a record of your lack of attention in that situation (yes I said yours, not someone else’s, I promise this is the fastest way to clearing this frustration). Watch for the way(s) in which you’re tuning out, closing yourself off in some small way, or otherwise not granting your full attention to the moment. Get out your sense of humour; it’s amazing to see how we readily we invite confusion towards us. Confusion isn’t some strange force in our lives that we haven’t invited; we’ve brought it to our lives. Which means we can also usher it out with our most refined art of attention.

So the record of your inattention should be thorough. Include dates, times, places, and make it funny! Describe your lack of presence so you can start to befriend this aspect of yourself; it’s likely been a useful coping mechanism for you, until now. Ultimately this is your route to blame-free living, super healthy, plump cells, and a truly happy family. Be the example. You must go first, and please, no complaining that nobody-else-is-doing-it-so-why-should-you. You chose yourself to practice yoga and grow your elegance – YOU GO FIRST.

Energy is the subject of many concerns such as efficiency, sustainability, renewability, production, storage and safety. In our own bodies we have many of the same thoughts, problems and experiments. As I am aging, I find that I want to conserve my energy for desired interest. Getting to bed at a reasonable hour, getting enough sleep, eating well, walking, practicing asana, and meditating are part of the daily plan in order to enjoy my life to the fullest. Learning what not to do and how to conserve my life force is a constant weighing in my mind. And yes I do believe in the saying, “everything in moderation even moderation”. So yes, you will see me doing very silly activities just to circumvent my limited logical brain, and yet more and more I am channeling my energy into spiritual studies.

In asana and pranayama we learn how to channel and store mental and physical energy. Not only do we unlock bindings and tension so that energy flows more effectively and freely but we learn how to store it within the torso. Bandhas sometimes translated as locks can better be seen as valves. It is the bandhas that turn the torso into a pressure cooker by closing off the channels at the floor of the pelvis, the throat and the pelvic belly. But like a pressure cooker it is important to be able to release the pressure when necessary. The relaxed, natural flow of the systems of digestion, circulation, and respiration is of utmost importance when learning the Bandhas. The containment of energy from the Bandhas should not impede the ease of movement in these systems. This work needs constant refinement and study. Eventually we realize that these valves are the natural effect of great posture and deep mindfulness.

As the summer fun and chaos hit the Hamptons we will see an explosion of stored up energy hit the air like the fourth of July fireworks. I hope you reserve some of your time and juice to come to Yoga Shanti and turn inwards to the sun of your inner world.

I don’t know whether its the underlying melancholy of this never-ending winter, some weird cosmic misalignment, or just because life happens, but it seems like I’ve been giving an awful lot of pep talks lately. I have several dear friends who are experiencing deep relationship trouble ranging from “taking a break” from a partner to full-on to divorce. There are others who hate their jobs, and are painfully worried about money. And there are those who call me with general neurosis about everything from impending birthdays to the impending end of the world.

So I do what I can to help. I send quotes from Pema Chodron and Haifiz, I recommend meditation CD’s and yoga classes. I offer advice, and give the number of a therapist or life coach. Sometimes I just listen.

I am not running for the title of “Bestest friend in the world.” In fact, many of my friends would scoff at that suggestion, smugly citing my “problematic tardiness” and propensity to cancel dates. That said, I honestly believe (and hope) I have become a better friend in recent years, and my yoga practice has been a big inspiration.

For far too long, I approached yoga with the same disconnected zeal I had with friendships. I was definitely enthused, but not really there. It wasn’t until I was blown open by a heartwrenching breakup did I finally come to my knees and realize there was a sticky mat beneath me. During those shellshocked months after moving out of my lovers apartment, the only solace I could find was yoga. And because my pain was so acute I became wildly present to all kinds of things I’d never noticed on my mat, like my knocked knees, and weirdly flat feet. But I began to notice other stuff too, like the cute shape of my toes, especially when they were painted blue! And my teachers poem, and the funny look on peoples faces when they are trying to hold Ardha Chandrasana.

My grief allowed me to get in my body and finally understand the pain and discomfort of others. And making friends with my strong but stiff body, allowed me to accept others faults as well. Because that is one type of friendship, isn’t it? Accepting people exactly as they are.

So now I am committed to both my yoga practice and showing up for my friends. And while I have ups and downs with both, I at least truly and finally know that we are all in this crazy practice and life together. And man, do we need each other because like Hafiz says, “Your heart and my heart, are very, very old friends.”

“Sometimes in our lives we all have pain
We all have sorrow
But if we are wise
We know that there’s always tomorrow
Lean on me, when you’re not strong
And I’ll be your friend
I’ll help you carry on
For it won’t be long
‘Til I’m gonna need
Somebody to lean on”
~ Bill Withers

Jai!

Life is full of new beginnings. Every day, when the sun rises, a new chance. The best way to start anything is to set a strong foundation. When I walked in to Yoga Shanti’s gorgeous Lakshmi studio to teach my first class there last week, I had to go back to the beginning. Even though I’ve been teaching at other studios for four years now, my story at Yoga Shanti is yet to be written. So I came to the mat. I sat down. And I grounded down into the foundation.

The foundation of a pose is whatever’s grounding down in that moment. So in our every day lives, that often means the feet or the butt. But in the yoga practice, it can be anything from the ball of one foot to the hands. Bringing your awareness to that point and grounding down into it will give every pose a familiarity and steadiness. Same goes for new situations. As I sat at the front of my mat last Tuesday evening, as the light splashed bright colors across the walls, I felt my sitting bones settle into the Earth beneath me. It felt like I was coming home.

Each time you come to the mat, it’s that kind of return. So next time you come to Tadasana, settle in to that foundation. Don’t just stand on two feet with one hip jutting out to the side. Find the Earth beneath you and ground down with awareness. Feel the four corners of each foot settling down as if you were growing roots from the soles of your feet. Feel how from that strong, balanced foundation, the rest of the body rises up and out, and you feel lighter.

The same is true in every pose on the mat. Whether you are in half moon with one foot on the ground and one leg raised behind you, or in handstand with your feet above your head, by finding whatever’s touching the Earth and connecting into it, you’ll feel your body grow stronger, more balanced, and more free.

The purpose of the yoga practice, of course, is not simply to prove to yourself that you can stand on your hands in the middle of the room, or even to have a beautiful physical practice. The purpose is for that to actually matter. By finding your foundation in a pose where the usual foundation is literally turned upside down, you’ll be empowered in other aspects of your life. You don’t need to be in child’s pose to feel grounded. It’s not just about being somewhere comfortable and safe – it’s about finding that safe, comfortable place everywhere. When you have a strong foundation, you are safe. You are grounded. And that strong foundation is always there.

This is what we can bring into our lives. Life is changing all the time, constantly throwing us curve balls. Just when we think we’re ready to coast for a while, something inevitably happens and we have to re-assess “the plan”. Really, life is a whole lot of transitions strung together. And it’s hard to find the foundation in the transition. How do you make a home of a temporary sublet? How do you feel grounded when the rug’s been snatched out from under you? It’s like finding the foundation in the middle of your vinyasa. But you know what? It’s there. And when you ground down into all ten fingertips as you’re moving from chaturanga to upward dog, you’ll feel stronger than ever.

So as the days begin to pick up towards springtime, as the quiet of February becomes a distant memory, stay grounded. Don’t get so swept away in the action of it all that you lose your connection. Come back to the Earth, and ground down into it. After all, that’s the foundation from which we all rise up.

Dearest Yogis and Yoginis, Our Focus of the Month for February is a letter to me from Kari Harendorf, which I found so moving and inspirational that I asked her if I could share it with you. It started because she texted me to see if I could sub out one of her classes. I said “Sure, what’s up?” Her response was that it was a really bad week (not the exact words, there may have been some profanity), and went on to tell me the details. Anyway, my response to that was… Wow, you will have to get out a shovel to find the gold this week. Below is her response. Read and weep like I did. Happy Valentines Day. With Love, Colleen

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I have been spending a lot of time thinking about your text. No need for shovels. I am beyond blessed and surrounded by gold everywhere I turn in my life.

Relationships are built in the pauses. The places between the craziness of the schedules we keep and the pace of our technologically advanced age. This was a week where I was forced again and again to pause, stop and be grateful for what was already right in front of me.

In facing my dogs mortality I have rejoiced to bring him home. Remembered his puppy days and reflected on how they helped prepare me for parenthood. I am hyper aware of the velvet feel of his snout, the click click of his nails on the floor as he follows me around the house, the smell of the inside of his ear. I am making his schedule of medicines and coordinating them with his meals. Cooking organic chicken soup and brown rice so he eats well and is happy. Watching the rise and fall of his belly. I am also struck that spending a life with a dog may be the sole relationship that teaches you how to better care for a baby and later, to care for your aging parents as well. As I am tenderly doing for him now. He is my first boy, my fur baby and has been my shadow and witness for 13 years.

When your kids are sick, they need their mother. And nothing else needs your attention in the moment other than them. Bodhi slept across my chest day and night. We took 3 hour naps together. I watched him sleep. The burning touch of his febrile skin. The rise and fall of his belly. The weight of his head resting on my shoulder. Lingering in the closeness and comfort of each other. We grew closer, somehow, in our shared virus.

Wednesday night (after we texted), the girls were running around the kitchen playing after dinner and Lotus managed to step on a nail that was somehow lodged bw the floorboards. (not joking). After the screams and the blood and figuring out what happened, we spent a long time in the bathroom soaking her foot and doing wound care. When she couldn’t put her foot down the next day and walk, we spent the day at the doctor and the ER. It was my time with her. Our “nothing else takes precedence right now except you” time.

Thursday evening Karma came home with a 102.5 fever. And I knew it was her turn. She stayed in her jammies all day Friday. We drew pictures, cooked, talked and cuddled. She napped. She healed.

We all healed. More than that. Due to circumstances beyond our control, we hit the pause button and dropped out of life this week. This is where relationships are forged, memories made and gratitude lives.

Loving all my blessings,
With new humility,
K
xoxo

Farming a piece of land is an incredible illustration of living in harmony with the natural cycles of the earth.  The land is now in a state of dormancy.  The hard frosts and freezes of the past month have brought all growth to a halt and the soil to solid cement.  Every last root and tuber has been pulled from the earth and every last cabbage cut.  There is no weeding, hoing, mulching, planting, or harvesting to be done.  All surface distractions have fallen away.  The root cellar is packed full to the ceiling with bountiful food for the winter.

What an incredible time.  With the least amount of outside light present and the coldest time of the year approaching we can follow the lead of the cabbage and begin to turn inwards.  The life cycle of the cabbage begins in the late summer where it starts to sprout upwards towards the sun.  As the temperature starts to drop, its leaves litterally turn inwards towards the center of the plant.  More and more leaves sprout and curl in tighter and tighter to the center until it becomes a very dense solid head.  The cabbage remains this way until, if left in the ground over the winter, it responds to the sun and heat of the spring-time and starts to bolt straight up towards the sky.  It puts out a stalk and flower and eventually in the summer would be pollinated by bees and drop seeds everywhere for the next batch of baby cabbage plants to sprout.  So here we are approaching the coldest part of the cycle.  Where is the farmer’s mind? How deep can we go?  What we do now will undoubtedly effect how we spread ourselves out in warmer months.

As yogis/yoginis we are used to going inward and exploring.  We go through inner journey’s and do inner work every day, just as a farmer observes what the soil is saying and works accordingly each day.  All this work on the soil and the farm can potentially spread major light to the world through the food that comes forth.  However, the work can also diminish the light of the earth if the farmer does not first recognize the perfection of the earth as it is.  We do not cultivate, add compost and manure, cover crop, rotate crops… because something is missing, but because we love the earth so much we want more and more of it’s perfection and beauty to shine forth through the crops we grow.  We cannot go inward and cultivate our deepest core until we first realize that we are from the very beginning the brightest most beautiful perfect light you can even imagine.  The only thing to  do is dust off the layers and veils that are covering our true essence, and allow our perfection to shine forth to the world and be reflected back at us.  This is how we will encourage all others to shine as well.  In the end the farmer will realize that he/she IS the cropland he/she has been cultivating with such love and awareness, and we all will realize that WE ARE the perfect light we see when we recognize truth within and without.

One November wind, in the dark of the night, blew the yellow leaves to the ground. The next morning we woke to bared, naked trees, able to see our neighbors house as if it had landed in our back yard. No longer were we cloaked in fall colors, no longer did we have the illusion of separateness.

So often we have the idea that we are alone, that we are separate, independent beings. What mental cloaking device is sustaining this perspective? What purpose does it serve? This strange habit of seeing ourselves as separate is the fertile ground that grows conflict and fear. This appears to be a fundamental mistake of our perception that keeps us from drinking the sweet nectar of the present moment unfolding.

Every breath we take is a mixing of the perceived inner world with the outer. Our skin is a membrane that is in constant dialogue with both worlds. The food that sustains us is married to the sun and the earth. This is the interdependence that Thich Naht Hahn talks about. With our minds and hearts wide open we cannot help but see our place intertwined with the totality. There is nothing that we say or do, no breath that we inhale or exhale that is not connected to every other vibration of that moment and the one before and after. Let yoga open our senses and join them to our awake conscious so we can live inside the light that is piercing through the darkness.

The space between the breath… That pause that allows, brings expansive peace and love, a moment to go AH-HA. A moment to gaze at my sleeping son, smell the autumn air, notice the colors, details, the smiles. To quiet my mind and hear the laughter, tears, conversation and vibration of all around me. I feel the incredible love of that hug, without words And I know that is enough Just being present in the moment and soaking it all in. To experience it, everything For this, I am grateful.

Pema Chodron’s Four Daily Reminders:

1. Maintain an awareness of the preciousness of human life. Beginning to realize how precious life is becomes one of your most powerful tools. It’s like gratitude… once you have this feeling of gratitude for your own life and the preciousness of human birth, then it takes you into any realm.

2. Be aware of the reality that life ends; death comes to everyone. Life is very brief. If you realize that you don’t have that many more years to live and if you live your life as if you actually had only a day left then the sense of impermanence heightens that feeling of preciousness and gratitude.

3. Recall that whatever you do whether virtuous or not, has a result; what comes around, goes around. The law of Karma is that we sow the seeds and reap the fruit. So when you find yourself in a dark place… you can think, “Maybe it’s time to get a little golden spade and dig myself out of this place.”

4. Contemplate that as long as you are too focused on self-importance and too caught up in thinking about how you are good or bad, you will suffer. Obsessing about getting what you want and avoiding what you don’t want does not result in happiness.

With Thanksgiving around the corner it is only natural to be writing about gratitude. In this economic climate it is especially important to be grateful for what we have. To focus on the good things and know that we are all in this together. When I first started practicing yoga, I was going through a difficult time and I used to get overwhelmed at the thought of being alone. My teacher said to me, “we are not alone but are “All One”. That has stayed with me over the years. Now, when I sit in meditation I am All One… one expansive breath… one vibration… one love, and that is incredible. I am grateful for the path that has led me to yoga and the wonderful people and teachers along the way. To all of you, everyone, I give thanks.

~ With love, Julie

“On the path of the tiger, we begin to look at our lives with an eye to what to cultivate and what to discard.” ~ Sakyong Mipham

When I was younger, my family used to call me “friend of the friendless” because I would befriend almost anyone. You name it: misfits, nutsos, ex-cons.

While some of the relationships turned out to be rewarding, proving that you can’t judge a book by its slightly sketchy cover, other instances left me with the realization that maybe I should be a little pickier about who I spent my time with, usually after my wallet—or boyfriend—was stolen.

But those were my lessons to learn and maybe my karma to burn.

Developing discernment (commonly known as exercising good judgment) goes hand in hand with experience and growing up. It’s only when you’ve been on the road for a while, can you look back and see that the trajectory of your life is in direct proportion to the decisions you made.

That is powerful and pretty darn daunting because not only do we have to make decisions every day for the rest of our lives, but as yogis, the idea of how our decisions affect others is paramount.

In The Places That Scare You, Pema Chödrön instructs us to:

Approach what repulses you.
Help those you think you cannot help.
Go to the places that scare you.

Gorgeous advice, but is that always really the best thing for you? Faced with an aggressive sibling, or a nasty co-worker, when do you dig your heels in and try to help and when you do walk away to save your sanity?

This is where discernment comes in.

I remember one day during my yoga teacher training, as my Sanskrit teacher taught us about vibration, sound, and the importance of breath, she asked the class pointedly: “Where will you put your prana?”

This was especially intriguing to me because as a Gemini I have like five jobs and endless projects and am constantly running around from one thing to the next.

What has really helped hone my sense of discernment about where I put my precious prana has been meditation and asana practice. When I can get quiet, I can turn inwards towards my sushumna and find the right answer. And when I am on the mat and choose a Childs pose over a Chaturanga, or maybe a sweaty vinyasa class over a chiller restorative, I know that I am in tune with my body and psyche and what it needs for that day and that helps grow my confidence in my decision making.

Another great tool that I created with the help of my therapist (and meditation teacher) is to ask myself this question every time a conundrum comes up: Does this serve stillness?

It works like this:

Robyn to Self:

“Should I go to the Kirtan though I’m super tired?”

Self to Robyn: “Does this serve stillness? Hmmmm. No!”

Robyn to Self:

“Should I go out with the cute boy tonight, though there are a pile of stinky yoga clothes staring at me very un-saucha like in the corner.”

Self to Robyn: “Does this serve stillness? Hmmmm, yes?”

Ok, maybe that last one was more Robyn to Robyn, but you get the point.

I strongly recommend you develop your own internal question that works for you. It might be: What serves my family? What serves joy? What serves my health?

Inevitably though as yogis, and humans, our united question should always be: What serves love?

I’m pretty sure the answer would always be right.