It’s Hard To Be A Beginner

My two-year-old son, John Michael, was overwhelmed yesterday, during his first day of school. I kept looking around at the environment and seeing so many things that he loves — trucks! A sandbox! paint! a water table! I wanted him to get involved and have fun, but he wouldn’t leave my lap. He spent the first twenty minutes crying that he just wanted to “go home and see Dada.”

So in the spirit of trying new things, I took a class at Body by Simone today. I had never been to the studio, and had no idea what it was all about. To be perfectly honest, I found out about it from Taylor Swift’s Instagram: I saw a picture of her standing on a street corner a block from my apartment, and her comment was about how Body By Simone had kicked her ass! So I signed up for a “Tramp Cardio” class at noon.

I can’t remember the last time I felt so spastic and uncoordinated.

I haven’t been on a trampoline in a long time. Even so, I remember that my childhood trampoline impulse was to jump UP. But to help me keep up with the class and the beat of the music, the instructor kept yelling at me to jump DOWN. Wait — WHAT?? I couldn’t do it for the life of me. I was several moves behind the whole time, and I fell off the trampoline twice. I didn’t hurt myself, and I tried to laugh about it, but it was embarrassing. I didn’t even feel like I was getting a workout — I was just trying not to break my ankle and look like a total lame-o.

It’s hard to be a beginner! It’s scary, embarrassing, overwhelming, and intimidating to try new things. The experience gave me more compassion for my son, and insight into how he must have felt to be in a new environment, a new room, surrounded by new kids, new teachers, and not know the lay of the land. It also made me so proud of him and all the students who come to Yoga Shanti and yoga in general for the first time. It takes courage to walk into a new place where you don’t know the culture or any of the people. It takes guts to roll out your mat for the first time.

The Realm Of The Beginner

“September feels like a beginning—even more so than January,” Jenny Hudak says, smiling.

It’s true—it’s a fresh start after a long, hot blast of a summer. In the spirit of that back-to-school feeling, our focus for this month is beginnings. It’s like a return to that first yoga sutra, atha yoganusasanam—“now we begin to practice of yoga.” This mantra can accompany us through our whole life. We can take refuge in it when we’ve been away for a while, and when we feel intimidated to come back. We can recite it to ourselves when we are standing around waiting for class, and instantly we are in tadasana.

A focus on beginnings reminds Maggan Daileader of a chinese proverb: “The best time to plant a tree was twenty years ago. The second best time is now.”

And can you imagine if Rodney hadn’t tried yoga for the first time so many years ago?

“Upstairs from the Berkeley Ballet,” he says, “where the Ballet Mistress, Sally Streets, of the Oakland Ballet, taught master classes, was the location of The Yoga Room.” He goes on, “Iyengar Yoga was being taught there by a handful of what seemed like a group of outcast hippies of U.C. Berkeley. A good ballet buddy of mine, David Lee, and me who were always looking for new ways to open our relatively tight bodies wandered upstairs to see what the yogis had to offer. And we thought that it was going to be at best a new way to get more turn out, better extension and longer, more sublime lines. We imitated the poses well, and the sequences made sense, and we felt already proficient at adapting to the yoga vocabulary very much like learning a new ballet. What we weren’t expecting was a complete shift in consciousness. Walking out, down the side of the building, we both turned toward each other and proclaimed how good we felt and what a magical effect yoga practice had on us. Now I know that this revolution and magic takes place in every cycle of breath, the inhale a birth, and the exhale a death. I really don’t even know what is beginning or who is witnessing the manifestation, but I am getting a sense that it is pure beauty and joy.”

As I am writing this newsletter, I am overhearing some students talking. One mentions that she has been away from her practice because she’s been taking care of her sick mother. She says that being in class today felt like coming home, but also like she was a beginner again. The other student laughs, and says she has never gotten over feeling like a beginner. Wise woman.

This reminds me of a stanza by ee cummings:

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and supple and thirsty
and even if it’s sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

How many people start yoga because they want to feel more supple or youthful? If we can overcome the notion that yoga is for a certain person who is already flexible, or calm, or likes lycra pants—or someone who has more free time, or doesn’t have human ambitions or struggles—then we can enter the realm of the beginner. We can overcome our know-it-all havens, and awaken a fountain of youth that wells up right in the center of our own center.

Carrie Schneider says, “Yoga came into my life through the gentle urging of one friend and then another. ‘Yoga,’ I had told myself with customary rigidity, ‘was not for me.’ I was a runner and a lap swimmer, and there was no way I was going to give up a two-hour workout to go sit around some patchouli-infused room with a bunch of hippie-dippie, Birkenstock-wearing, ’60s throwbacks twisted up like worms. Maybe it’s beneficial, I figured, but so is cod liver oil.

“One evening I was winding down at the NYTimes Mag editorial desk and planning to head over to the pool, when my friend Kathy called. The circumstances are foggy: Had I left my goggles home? Was the pool closed for repair? But this time, when she said, ‘You should come to yoga,’ I yielded, with minimal whining. ‘All I have to wear is my bathing suit,’ I said. ‘No one cares,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how to do it!’ I protested. ‘No one does, the first time,’ she said. And so I took my first yoga class—in a black racer-back Speedo. It was hard! But by savasana, I’d found my practice for life.

Chrissy Carter says, “The first time I stepped foot on a yoga mat, I was in college. My dance professor used yoga to warm us up before our modern dance class, and I was intrigued. I thought it was a little weird, but, hey, it was a modern dance class so everything was a little weird. I kinda liked it, although I didn’t know why. I remember feeling comfortable in the newness and awkwardness of it all, not realizing that what I understood as ‘unfamiliar’ wasn’t actually my experience of the postures, but my experience of myself. Yoga felt like coming home. It gave me the tools to walk the road that led to what Richard Rosen calls ‘the country of the Self.’ Now, all these years later, I’m more comfortable in my own skin, but I still appreciate that feeling of newness that never quite went away. I always feel a little bit like a beginner in my practice, struck in awe by the wonder of it all.”

Isn’t it nice to know that even seasoned practitioners, and devoted yoga teachers like Carrie and Chrissy started out reluctantly, and still feel like beginners? But that is the whole point of yoga! Is it yoga if we aren’t feeling supple and hungry and thirsty and fearless and wrong and new?

I started painting 15 years ago. I was terrible. But I secretly loved how bad I was. I had zero skills. I was uncoordinated, and my canvases were laughable (although that didn’t stop me from giving them to friends as presents). I appreciated visual art, but I had no idea how to make anything from my mind appear on a canvas. I think it’s precisely because painting is so foreign to me, that I find it so therapeutic. I can’t possibly perfect it, or make a living from it, but I enjoy being absorbed in the process of discovery.

Sometimes we feel a knocking inside—knock, knock, knock. And if we open the door to inquire what’s there, it’s usually a question. “What would it be like if you tried….”

Joanna Sesny, one of our Beginner’s Club teachers, has felt this knocking. She says, “Whatever I’m being called to do, I must take a step in that direction. Because if I don’t, it’ll continue to circle me, orbiting around until I muster up enough courage to inch forward. That humility coupled with willingness to try something new is such a fertile ground for learning.”

Beginner’s Club teacher Terri Walker reminds us of a quote by Plato about the importance of beginnings: “The beginning is the most important part of the work.”

Yoga, courage, and beginnings seem to go hand in hand. We need a little courage to start yoga. And then yoga gives us the confidence to try other new things.

Menna Olvera says, “For my final teaching weekend for the 200-hour teacher training, my dharma talk assignment was “Beginner’s mind.” I didn’t realize what it meant until I did a stand-up comedy class. I was clearly a beginner and full of fear. I needed at least one drink at open mic night to even muster the courage to be the beginner in the line-up. I didn’t know the proper protocol of open mic night, and I was the only person talking about perineums and pelvic floors. After that, the more I did open mic nights, the more confident I became. And then I realized that it’s the same with my yoga practice. Every time I step on the mat to practice, there’s a beginning point. These days, I’m open to exploring what inspires me on the mat.”

Rodney says, “Is the practice helping us to see what’s right there, in plain sight? Is it awakening our senses so what we are hearing, tasting, smelling, and feeling what is actually happening?”

This is the practice of yoga. As the moments unfold, and time carries us through the current, are we feeling, sensing, living? Are we willing to begin again and again? Or are we stuck going through the motions of sun salutations?

We welcome you to join the conversation on beginnings. Share with us your stories, poems, anecdotes, and photos by replying to this email. Take a Beginner’s Club class even if you’re a seasoned practitioner. Leap up into that first handstand! Follow us on Instagram @TheYogaShanti for more inspiration and to join the conversation throughout the month.

We Ride on the Backs of Giants

T.K.V. Desikachar died on Monday, the 8th of August, 2016. He was one of the great influencers of Yoga in the 20th century. Desikachar was the son (and student) of the great yoga master T. Krishnamacharya. Krishnamacharya was also the teacher of Patabois Jois, B.K.S. Iyengar, and Indira Devi. Desikachar completed a lineage that is largely responsible for how we practice yoga today in the 21st century.

One of the indicators of the extensiveness of T. Krishnamacharya’s Yoga knowledge is the diversity and profundity of his four main students. Any person who has had the honor and privilege to study with one of his students realized that there was no cookie-cutter methodology. Each one of these four had the thread of devotion and refined inquiry, but much to T. Krishnamacharya’s credit, they each expressed it in radically different teachings and styles. Each one of these masters showed us a different facet of the practice and let the wisdom and light shine through the window of different personalities and perspectives.

How will YOU express the teachings as you ride this river of Yoga? Your special and unique boat is important and is not duplicated by anyone else. We are trained and influenced by our teachers, colleagues, students and by the world at large but from where you float or swim in the river is a perspective that is occupied only by you. The ability to relax significantly into who we are and yet feel and listen to the whole is a magnificent gift of Yoga.

The story of the five blind people describing an elephant as they touch different parts (one on the trunk, one on the leg, etc.) is a way to remember that one’s truth may be relative to one’s perspective and that we must loosen our own point of view enough to listen and truly inquire about the whole.

May the Force Be With You

Dear Friends,

If you’ve been to class with Colleen and Rodney lately, you’ve probably heard them say, “Don’t Force.” What a great instruction to consider for August!

The 2016 Summer Olympics are upon us. Consider the rigorous, disciplined schedules and lifestyles of those athletes. Consider the goals they must set for themselves. But when they force themselves beyond their limits, there’s no doubt they’re met with exhaustion, injuries, and other obstacles that stand in the way of their goals. Olympic athletes, like our friends Daryl Homer and Jean-Paul Tony-Helissey (pictured in virabhadrasana II above), train to win, but in doing so, they train to go with the flow.

We looked up “force” in the dictionary, and there are over 36 definitions. So context is everything. We’ve decided to take a deeper look at this instruction for the month, and we hope you’ll join us in the inquiry.

The question is, How have you applied the instruction “Don’t Force” to your life?

Joyce Englander Levy says, “In general, I think the instruction is meant to steer us away from the kind of overpowering that would force a false confession, so to speak. Do you ever force yourself to do something in your practice and your life, and it feels false? I think this is the kind of force we’d like to encourage away from. Yoga practice is all about balancing opposing forces so that we can feel a sense of ease flowing through the center of the pose — or, even better, the center of our lives.”

Jamie Lugo agrees that “Don’t force,” is one of her favorite mantras. She says, “It has influenced my practice and teaching greatly. It’s a phrase I like to remind myself of daily. ‘Force’ can come in a lot of shapes and sizes but to me it means to not get in the way of the natural progression of things. When we try too hard, especially in our practice, we can end up building dams instead of rivers — for example, an injury instead of a breakthrough. In that respect, there’s a lot of observation that needs to take place in order to see what patterns and cycles already exist.”

Jamie continues, “J. Krishnamurti said, ‘Observation is action.’ And what a relief that is. Maybe no force is necessary. People seem so hell-bent on changing the world around us and within us. But my teaching recently has been about allowing the natural patterns to come up, and then observing them. Because how can we change something if we don’t know what already exists? In that observation we can ask ourselves, Am I getting in my own way, or am I encouraging a natural current? Can I redirect this pattern instead of replacing it with another one? It’s like waiting for a phone call: You wait, you wait, and you wait. But when you forget all about it, that’s when the phone rings.”

The whole idea behind “Don’t Force” is to be more fully yourself. As Keely Garfield points out, discipline is a key ingredient in living a yogic life. She says, “You could make the case that in fact I do force myself to roll out that mat, practice, sit, self-reiki, talk to a friend. I think of this kind of ‘force’ as paying attention, or concentrating. When I was a little girl, I had to force myself to drink that medicine that tastes disgusting because ultimately I knew it was good for me. Knowing when to ease off is one thing, but I have to be able to apply the pedal when necessary!”

Having the discipline to show up, dig deep, and be present, is vital to steering a spiritual life. How can we get out of our own way? How can we balance being organized, aligned, disciplined, and easygoing so that we can feel like the best versions of ourselves in this world that needs our best, without feeling like we’re over-efforting?

It’s difficult not to use force when we have goals and a vision for our lives. But what kind of force are we applying? Is it actually helping or hindering our big picture?

Terri Walker admits that she doesn’t use the mantra “Don’t Force.” But she gets it. She says, “I used to act with such directed force when I was young, especially when driving myself towards my envisioned future. I wanted so much of one thing that I flew past people, opportunities, and possibilities without investigation. Fast forward to the present, when I take more time to consider what comes out of my mouth.”

Carrie Owerko shared a perfect line of poetry that helps illuminate the spectrum of discipline, force, and grace. She says, “These lines from Rilke have helped me when I’ve felt incapacitated with fear, or when I feel that I am not managing my energy in a way that is kind, loving, or effective. They’re kind of like a prayer, or a gentle reminder to live in a way where we allow our very life, and our love, to flow through us.”

May what I do flow from me like a river, no forcing and no holding back, the way it is with children.

So much to consider. We’d love for you to join the conversation. Share your thoughts in the comments on Instagram.

In conclusion, perhaps Menna Olvera (and Yoda) put it perfectly: “May the force be with you.”

Yours truly
The YSNY teachers

Falling and Catching

Dear Friends,

We hope your 4th of July weekend was festive, and a break from routine. These moments when we travel, celebrate, and indulge can actually be a key ingredient in a balanced life. But even better than swinging back and forth from extreme health to overindulgence, Shanti teachers aim for overall balance. How? Well, we all do yoga everyday of course. But, additionally…

Joyce Englander Levy has given up sugar, except on Saturdays. She finds that making health and wellness decisions ahead of time is easier than making them in the moment. She frees up mental space by not cluttering her mind with a debate over every desire. Then, when her day off rolls around, the splurge tastes that much sweeter.

Jenny Hudak walks home every night. That hour from the studio to her apartment seems to bring her back to the center. By then her legs are so tired that she can go right to bed… after she watches one Seinfeld rerun!

Lippy says, “Don’t drink too much.” To which Carrie Schneider responded, “Ha ha Ha ha ha! Lip nailed it! Or, as Swami Dayananda said, ‘Never meditate on a barstool.’”

OK, everyone basically agreed with Lippy, but, seriously though, Carrie continued by saying, “When you’re rushing around and you have to leave the house without having practiced, and then, at some point, you get to stand on your head, shoulders, legs, do a few asanas. And then you get to sit with yourself. Oh, how grateful we are for the balance of practice.”

Jamie Lugo finds balance by looking at the “big picture” of her life — as in her life up to this point, not the current state of it. She looks to see what patterns she is repeating, and where she needs to cultivate the opposite in order to bring balance. In order to look at her life honestly, she likes to remove herself from it. Often. She escapes the city as much as possible. “The opposite of concrete and exhaust are trees and fresh air,” she says. She tries to live by sutra 2.33 — cultivating the opposite, not just in negative thoughts, but in all areas where she sees strong patterns.

Tracey Toomey McQuade acknowledges her struggle with balancing being a new mom, working, and finding time for herself. She observes there are times in our lives where we go WAY out of balance. “Maybe that’s the only way we have the joy of finding it again?” she wonders.

Similarly, Keely Garfield doesn’t like to use the word “balance” much because it has become synonymous with the idea or pursuit of perfection — we all know that perfection is unrealistic. In yogic terms, she thinks all “balance” is a negotiation between falling and catching, and requires us to truly attend to what’s going on with us moment to moment — physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Then the trick is to try to make space for whatever we encounter. (This description rallied everyone in agreement!)

Carrie Owerko agrees that balance is a huge topic. She thinks Buckminster Fuller said it best by defining balance as a process. He coined a word, which is a combination of “tension” and “integrity”: “tensegrity.” It’s about islands of compression floating in a balanced sea of tension. There are compressive and opposing forces pulling us this way and that. Our very cells are subjected to the forces of nature (like gravity and love and loss) at every moment. Balance then becomes a dynamic process or adaptive way of being that will be different for each of us, and will take different shapes at different times, due to the unique sea of tensions that our little lives (islands) are floating in, and the various storms that we must weather.

Menna Olvera has committed to a lifestyle that leaves time to walk through a museum, paddleboard, and remember that life can be fun too!

Terri Walker will try to do something creative with her hands, like arranging flowers or mixing essential oils with salts. Both these activities involve texture, scent, color, and the passage of time, so she can ground herself, and be less reactionary. The bonus comes when she can gift her creation to someone. Sometimes she will even give it to herself!

Julie Ross cooks every day for her family during the week, but on the weekends her husband steps up to give her a culinary break. She also mixes her yoga with lights-low, beats-high cardio workouts like spinning and dancing.

One of the ways Gillian Cilibrasi strikes balance is by attending to her immediate world, whether that means giving her baby girl a sincere hug every time she asks for one, or introducing herself to the crossing guard who has been on the block for 22 years. She takes care to find out how her barista or bodega friends and their families are.

Joanna Sesny makes sure to spend time with her closest friends on a weekly basis.

Alexandria Brzenk makes time to connect with nature in some way, and she also carries or wears crystals and stones to hold during meditation.

Hannah Overlock agrees that “balance” is a tricky word, but she will try to maintain a little distance and watch things as they arise, without diving immediately into “This is good,” “This is bad.” Because good/bad, who knows, really? She agrees with Jamie that sutra 2.33 is SUPER important, especially with her scoliosis, because she has to cultivate the opposite of her tendencies to find the center of the pose.

For Christopher Golden, it’s all about friends and bodies of water. When he’s feeling disoriented in any way, a visit with a good friend, and or a trip to the beach, puts his mind in a better place. If he can’t make it to the ocean, a bike ride along the East River does the trick too. Dark chocolate never hurts…

Liz Ilgenfritz agrees with “saying yes to dark chocolate”! However, “no” is an equally important word. Learning when, how, and why to say no is an art form. As much as we want to “do,” we would do ourselves and those effected by us a real service by gauging our limits and not overcommitting.

Like Liz, Maggan Daileader is learning how and when to say no. Her kids recently pointed out that her calendar had no fun activities scheduled. Hence she has added an hour a week of “mom time.” She used to sneak in a half an hour here or there while the kids were in school or asleep, but now she’s consciously scheduling time for herself when everyone is home. This has sent a message that her time is equally as important as their ballet, music, baseball, soccer, chess, golf, play dates, and whatever else fills her family’s weeks.

And last, but not least, Ali Cramer says, “Cut your to-do list in half. If you get to half of that, congratulate yourself PROFUSELY, and have an avocado smoothie.“

To explore more of what it means to live a balanced life, check out our collaboration with Parsley Heath and Hyde Yoga Apparel going on this week. Three entrants can win:

1 YSNY 5-Class Package
1 Parsley Health Rebuild Protein Shake
1 Hyde Organic Cotton Yoga Tank

Contest begins July 5th and ends July 11th.

Sweetly,

The Yoga Shanti Teachers & Staff

Do It Anyway

“We have to do our best and at the same time give up all hope of fruition. One piece of advice that Don Juan gave to Carlos Castaneda was to do everything as if it were the only thing in the world that mattered, while all the time knowing that it doesn’t matter at all.” — Pema Chodron

This quote by Pema Chodron is analogous to Mother Teresa saying, “What you spend years building could be destroyed in a day — build anyway.” Or when Buddhist monks spend weeks creating beautiful mandalas only to destroy them as an offering. At any moment, someone or something can take away your credibility or undermine all your hard work, but that shouldn’t stop you from doing it anyway. If there’s something you’re passionate about — something you believe in wholeheartedly — you must do it, even if in a second it could be gone.

And if what you love goes away, be able to honestly and gracefully let it go, and begin again. Impermanence is a part of life, and if we don’t practice accepting it, it will consume us. If we spend our lives afraid to pursue anything because of the fear of failure, condemnation, or upheaval, we’ll become stagnant. This is one thing yoga aims to prevent — stagnation. Yoga liquidates the stagnant places in the body and mind.

Pursuing what matters to you — whether it be a love, a career, a cause, or a journey — is as yogic as practicing headstand every day, knowing that one day no matter how great you are at headstand, you may fall and break your leg. (If you fall and break your leg you won’t be able to practice headstand for a while, but when you recover, you’ll get up and start again.) This perseverance in the face of impermanence is a training of both the mind and body, but most of all it’s a training in resilience. It will train you to react to the world in a way that is realistic but hopeful and impactful. By living this way, you might not know it, but people will notice, and they’ll see that they too are capable. By trying to do our best and accepting the successes and failures, we are telling those around us, “You are enough.” (As my mother and Jason Isbell would say.)

As some of you know, I’ve begun following in my mother and Rodney’s footsteps, and it’s terrifying for me. For a long time, I didn’t teach for fear of being weighed against (and weighing myself against) their success. Eventually I realized that this story I’d been telling myself wasn’t completely true — yes, it’s true, I will never be my mom or Rodney; and, yes, I don’t know half the things they do about the human body. But I’m only 20 — if I let the fear of my ignorance keep me from learning, I’ll stay ignorant. So I’m working hard at learning all I can about the human body (and the human condition) in order to help my peers as best I can.

I love yoga, I love people, and I want to help people love themselves. I’ll be able to do that in ways that my mom and stepdad can’t because I have a different perspective on the next generation — because, hey, I am the next generation. Even if I don’t succeed as a yoga teacher, I’ll be happy if I bring one person a little bit more peace. I’m taking the destination out of the equation to focus on the path.

Last fall a studio opened in Isla Vista, California, where I go to school, and I took it as an opportunity to start my own teaching practice. This gave me a little space from my parents’ reign to explore how I feel about teaching. Turns out, I really enjoy it. I realized that I miss having a yoga community when I’m not involved in one.

I’m still terrified. Every time I get up to teach or answer a question in teacher training I have voices in my head saying, “You have to do this correctly; you know who your parents are.” But the truth is, it’s all in my head — nobody else expects as much from me as I do. This will subside as I become more confident in my teaching and my knowledge. The harder I work and the more honest I am with myself and my students (so weird that I have students now), the more all of us get out of the experience. Yoga and life is teaching me this. I’m petrified of failing, but that’s exactly why I’ll succeed.

Maybe I won’t continue on this path of teaching (in which case, I’ll do something worthwhile, and I’ll do a great job). The acknowledgement of the impermanence of everything allows for resilience. Fear is impermanent, joy is impermanent, success is impermanent, and failure is impermanent. I find the resilience to continue to do anything — even brushing my teeth when all I want to do is fall asleep — by remembering that whatever I feel right now will pass.

I picked this teaching by Pema because it reminds me to let go of my story and follow passion with as little hesitation as possible. It’s a reminder to enjoy the beautiful balance of hard work and no agenda because, even if nothing comes to fruition, the work was inherently beneficial to your human situation and the situation of those around you. Just by living your truth, you inspire others to do the same.

Vulnerability

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly…”

– Theodore Roosevelt

Somewhere along the way, our culture decided that strength meant success. That by being vulnerable and showing our weaknesses, we set ourselves up for failure. We feel that it’s inappropriate to cry in public. That when we fail at something we should quit and move on. And that our life’s purpose is to find something we are good at and DO THAT! Unfortunately this pattern only serves to separate us from one another. Why? Because we all share those soft spots. Those places of unease, insecurity, and fear. When we deny that those places exist by covering them up we deny part of who we are. While we are so busy building on our strengths and doing the things that we “like,” we forget that there is another part of us that isn’t getting a chance to grow.

You’ve probably noticed this in your practice. There are poses you like and poses you dislike. The postures you like are probably the ones you are “good” at. And the ones you dislike are the ones you have tried before that were hard for you or didn’t work out as planned. But it is when you are doing what comes easily then the mind gets to turn off. You lose a sense or curiosity and enthusiasm and in return your investigation is actually just skimming the surface. However, it’s in the shaky, unsure, insecure, fear inducing poses that we become fully awake. This is where growth and evolution take place. Yes it sucks to SUCK. But the question is: Can you show up with effort and enthusiasm anyway? Whether it’s headstand or a bad review at work, can you stay put and see that the only sign of weakness is the unwillingness to show up again and again?

Part of the reason I fell in love with my husband was his enthusiasm to dance and sing. No, he doesn’t have great dance moves nor can he carry a tune. But it’s the way he’s willing to try anything. To put himself out there. Show Up. Fail. And then continue anyway.

The word courage comes from Latin word “couer” which means to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart. We all want to be brave and courageous in this lifetime. But what we don’t realize is that it is completely courageous to be vulnerable. To put yourself out there with uncertainty and enthusiasm, regardless of the outcome. Tapping into our own vulnerability can give us a chance to see that we all struggle in similar ways. And when we realize that, we can truly understand that we have a divine connection with all beings.

200 Hours

Colleen and I both look back at the first teacher trainings that we took (she at Jivamukti and myself at the Iyengar Yoga Institute of San Francisco), and remember that we each went in wanting to learn more about yoga with no intentions to teach. A common trajectory of yoga learning in this country goes from taking public classes or doing video programs, to attending yoga retreats, and then right into a 200-hour teacher training program. Often the teacher training is the spark that ignites a genuine home practice or a launching pad for taking more classes per week. This is a fine evolution of a yogi, but it doesn’t really qualify one to hang up a shingle and start a teaching career. Two hundred hours in any subject is a drop in the bucket – an introduction, a pillar to a foundation.

The long time yogis in this country are recognizing this and are setting up continued education and looking toward creating more stringent certification processes. We all love teacher training programs and love how practitioners get turned on and set on fire. We love when students begin to see the rich history and the infinite body of knowledge and the unlimited realms of exploration that are possible in this beautiful art of yoga. The only difficulty is when the 200-hour teacher training is seen as a completion or a sign of mastery.

So then, what is being taught in these 200 hours and what is possible in such a curriculum? A good introduction and some essential foundational aspects can be covered. Some essential questions that can last a lifetime can be served up. But let us not demean a 2500-year old art form that includes some of the most brilliant human thought and experimentation by thinking you can become a yoga teacher after 200 hours. Instead come and have your mind blown open, your heart cranked wide, and your liver cleansed, and get introduced to your new life as a curious and beautiful sentient being.

March Madness

March Madness is a term you rarely hear in a yoga studio, but one you become quite familiar with when you live with basketball fans.

For those of you who aren’t familiar, March is the month that college basketball reaches its peak, and the past year’s efforts come to fruition: the teams battle it out, one after the other falling to the wayside, until the “Final Four” remain, and then the long awaited Finals. Fans compare their brackets, making predictions and bets; even President Obama fills out his bracket.

Living out on the East End of Long Island, a sleepy community in the winter and an intense throbbing destination in the summer, March signifies the turning point for both local businesses and the summer crowd. There is the big push for visitors to secure their rentals. Restaurants and retail businesses are repairing and prepping for the crowds. Construction, landscaping, and pool companies are pressured to meet their clients’ deadlines, creating our own version of March Madness.

As I write this, I am fresh off the boat (plane) from my yearly yoga retreat, where time stands still – there is little wifi and no phones. For a week, our focus is on the beauty of the place and the people we’re surrounded by. The biggest gift we are given though is the gift of being PRESENT. As I reintegrate into my daily life, all around me people are preparing for a future that has not yet arrived, and few are fully present in the here and now.

March is also the last month of winter, a season that signifies and supports introspection and stillness, and for the East End, a bit of a “calm before the storm.” I came back from my trip with a strengthened resolve to enjoy this time when I can walk in the woods and on the beach, bundled up in my solitude, free of distraction from the summer crowds.

The present is not always a place of ease – it can feel uncomfortable, and I often find myself running toward distraction. But the more I practice, the easier it gets. As the world gets faster and busier, the present is where I feel the calmest, the most centered and at peace with my life. Staying in this space is now a bigger priority for me than ever.

I know that distracted energy affects my friends, family, and coworkers. And I also know that when I work to have moments of quiet every day, that stillness has a profound effect on my life and the people I come in contact with. Ultimately, our individual energy impacts the whole world.

My practice is still in baby steps, but if I can simply do five minutes of meditation and three Sun Salutations, and adhere to boundaries I put on myself regarding daily screen time, I consider that a success. 🙂

Being present allows us to enjoy the festivities of life, including the seasons and even March Madness. Then even if our team loses we can still rejoice in the journey, commitment, and dedication of these wonderful young athletes. All of which fades into the past as they step onto the court and into the present moment, truly the only moment that counts.

xo
Leilani

Heart Healing

As I have transitioned from massage to Structural Integration, I have been studying anatomy and movement intently for several years. It has strengthened my mind in a new way. I feel the difference in my meditations and my focus is more grounded than it has been in years. I’m also able to watch my emotions more clearly. I’m not sure it’s from a stronger connection to my mind, but it makes sense to me.

My heart has been cracked open. It is said that is where the light comes in. It feels intense, this light, drawing awareness to all that has been hiding. I had been feeling like I had been asleep at the wheel, going through the motions, surviving. Not depressed, not asleep, but not awake. It’s been a while since I have felt awake. I am being pried open, asked to wake up. I feel vulnerable. As one friend said, “maybe its just normal after being so guarded.” Vulnerable is normal? It’s definitely softer.

My awareness has been sharpened. I have dreams that wake me up in the middle of the night, as if I’m being pushed into looking at my role in my life. It reminds me of “Defending Your Life” with Albert Brooks and Meryl Streep. I’m being shown how I have participated in my life and how it’s gotten me to where I am now. It is painful and extremely helpful at the same time.

I am seeing the levels and layers of untruths that I have believed about my family, my relationships, and myself. My story is being opened up for me and highlighted in a different way. I have sorted through the story of my life many times, as we all do when we hit different levels of maturity or pain. The experience of having a child inside of my body and then embracing, caring, and nurturing that child has been an incredible experience. It is healing a deep wound in me. When my son was a baby, I felt a deep profound love I knew I had never felt before. It was like being in love, not romantic love but LOVE. I have heard that we come from Love. Pure and whole and complete, and I felt it.

My wounds are still here. And may always be here. They have shaped me. But my maturity feels different, I feel more able to hold my own hand, feel deep love for myself, and ask for the willingness to stay in this place of opening my heart. Maybe the experience of bonding and loving that I have had with my son allows me to give that to myself. It feels BIG. I have always been a passenger on the storm of my emotions – I have felt thrown around with not much awareness. Now, I am aware of the emotions, the thoughts and beliefs behind the feelings. I am aware of how I have pushed people away, and pushed myself away. In this dance with others, in my fear, I have created distance, distrust, and separation. I have created the very thing I was afraid of. This fear of loving, and deeper fear of losing – It’s a pattern I have repeated many times and I finally see it. FINALLY. It’s painful, but freeing. I’m not on the inside of the storm right now, I’m on the outside looking in.

Tara Brach is a Buddhist teacher that speaks of walking into self- awareness with kindness and forgiveness. I hear her say, “It is not your fault.” I understand her words to say that our early experiences shape our unconscious reactions, they are survival, primal and set in place. And until we are aware of our reactions, we cannot help it. She invites us to investigate our reactions with an eye of love, offer forgiveness, come back to a loving presence, and then choose presence in our breath and body. It is so gentle that it allows me to look at more of myself. It allows me to offer love to myself and receive it graciously. I can see the fear of opening my heart to another. And in the softness, I can sit with my fear and find peace. Fear is a natural form of protection. As I bring awareness to my fear and continue to rest in love, I can find presence in myself. And that is my greatest protection and my greatest gift. Fear is the place where I can find access to my innate goodness and a connection to the whole of life, a greater source.

This heart that’s broken open, I will nurture it to stay open. With awareness and willingness to grow and to reach out to others. And bringing attention to my protectors: judgment, blame, isolation, and fear. I have been finding such grace inside. I had forgotten it was there. I know there is deep love inside of me. I feel it. I can see my heart in my son, how nourished and loving he is. I see the kindness and care that comes back to me. I know we all have this experience – the human experience of fear, separation, and distrust. It is not my own. I carry it as we all carry it. It connects us and allows us to find compassion for each other. We all have the desire to grow, to connect, and share. That is our shared human experience. And I can love this messy humanness. Or at least be present to the innate love inside of me as I bear witness to it.

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning is a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
― Rumi

Namaste,
Padma