Kāmabandha, Bound to Love

With Valentine’s Day on the horizon, most of us here in the West will be reminded of Cupid, whose name comes from the Latin cupido, “desire, love.” One dictionary suggests this word is “perhaps” cognate with the Sanskrit kupyati, “bubbles up, becomes agitated,” which I suspect some of us have experienced once or twice in our lives under certain circumstances with certain people. Another dictionary traces this word even farther back, to the Indo-European root kwep, a not especially poetic sounding word—all you need is kwep? Can’t buy me kwep? Kwep me tender?—that means “to smoke, cook, be agitated emotionally,” once again relational conditions at least a few of us may be able to identify with.

Cupid carries two different kinds of arrows, one very sharp and gold-tipped, the other made of lead and blunt. When struck with the first, we bid adieu to sanity and devote every hour of our waking lives to making the biggest fool in the world—think Jim Carey in Dumb and Dumber—look perfectly rational and intelligent. When struck with the other we react completely oppositely and inexplicably, at least to the other person, turn tail and run.

Since this is a yoga newsletter, we’ll turn our attention to India, which has its own version of Cupid, a randy young fellow by the name of Kāma. As with so many Sanskrit words, we have to be careful with the spelling: with a long second, kam (pronounced kuh-MA), it means “beauty, radiance;” with a long first (pronounced KA-muh), it means “desire, longing, wish.” As we might expect there are lots of words that are compounded of kāma: if I’m bound to love, I’m kāmabandha; if I’m lustful, I’m kāmabhik ma; and if I’m following my own desires unreservedly, I’m kāmacara.

Kāma himself is said to be the first creation of the Absolute at the dawning of the world. In the famous Vedic song of creation (10.129), we read that at the outset “all that existed then was void and formless,” after which “rose Desire (kāma) … the primal seed and germ of Spirit.” This seems to indicate that within each of us then at the very essence of our being is Desire, but not the everyday worldly desire to, just to pull an example out of my hat, date Kate Upton (or whoever you’d like to fill in here), but the original intent of Desire with a capital D, which is to know ourselves as we truly are and so be truly happy.

Kāma of course has a family. His wife’s name is Rati, “pleasure,” his younger brother is Krodha, “anger,” and his daughter is Trisha, “thirst.” Sounds like that might be an interesting Thanksgiving dinner get-together. We might expect him nowadays to drive a very flashy, expensive car, but traditionally his ride is a parrot, said to be the wisest of birds—Polly want a kwep-er?—or a peacock, which represents impatient desire. Like Cupid, K ma has a bow, his is made of sugar cane, its string a line of buzzing bees, his arrows are made of lust-inspiring flowers. Oddly enough, for we might expect just the reverse, K ma is worshiped by the yogis, because it’s only he who can free the mind of desire. I guess it’s good to know, as Alain Danielou writes in the Gods of India, that it’s not “pleasure but desire” that binds us all to suffering and blocks our way to liberation. He quotes from an obscure Upanishad: “He (and let’s add “she”) who hankers after pleasure with a view of enjoying it becomes addicted to desire. The sage partakes of sensual pleasures as they occur, with a detached mind, and does not become addicted to desire.”

Like most Indian deities, Kāma has a host of names; just a few are: Ishma, “spring,” Mada, “passion,” Smara, “remembering love.” He’s also known as Abhirupa, the “beautiful,” Dipaka, the “inflamer,” Kantu, the “happy,” and naturally Samantaka, the “destroyer of peace.” His special celebration, which we might compare with Valentine’s Day, is called Madanasava, the Festival of the God of Love, which is described as a pretty raucous affair, in which the castes mingle freely, kings and beggars alike, singing and dancing and engaging in behavior we’ll not describe in a family newsletter.

A few month ago, while researching another article, I had occasion to look up the word prana, familiar enough to most yogis, meaning “breath of life, respiration, spirit, vitality.” As I plowed my way through the complicated definition I ran across this beautiful phrase which I give to you to share with someone special on Valentine’s Day: tvam me pranah (pronounced, more or less: twam me pra-nuh-hah), which means, “To me you are as dear as life.”

And a poem that I penned especially for Rod and Colleen:

Will you be my Valentine?
If you will my Heart will shine
If you will my Brain will glow
I’ll light up from head to toe.
And oh my Lungs will sing and shout
My Liver angel wings will sprout
My Kidneys too will celebrate
Say you will, don’t make me wait.
My Stomach out its joy will pour
Oh how would it just you adore
You my wildest dreams surpass
Right down into my Pancreas.
When other lovers get the sack
Only Hearts in pieces crack.
But if you me won’t make your bloke
All my insides will be broke.
My Thyroids they will turn to gruel
However could you be so cruel?!
My Pituitary will be crushed
And look, poor Spleen, all chopped and mushed.
So once again, please don’t decline:
Will you be my Valentine?
Oh so happy would I be
In every vein and artery.

We are excited to announce that Richard Rosen will be teaching two workshops at Yoga Shanti this February: Asana as a Preparation for Pranayama in Sag Harbor on Valentines Day, February 14th, and Forgotten Hatha in New York City on Sunday, February 15th.

Fall Was Full Of Yoga

We hope that your fall was full of yoga, and that the upcoming holidays—and the winter as a whole—will continue to find you inspired. We’ve had a hectic schedule this fall, and haven’t had as much face time with you as we would have liked to. Thank you for continuing to show up, keeping the yoga buzz alive and well.

We know that the holidays can be an intense time for so many reasons. The void of loved ones no longer walking the earth seems vaster at this time. We also tend to put ourselves on a scale as we approach the end of the year, to see how we’re adding up in the different realms of our lives. Whether we’re judging ourselves on relationships, finances, or careers, there seems to be an evaluation process.

Reflection is good as long as you keep it in perspective. And the best way to do that is to keep showing up on your mat with your body and breath, and finding the space to hold it all. Listen to your body. It doesn’t like to be overextended, and will revolt by getting sick.

We recommend a few things to get you through the holidays. The most important is rest. The world is so much bleaker when we’re exhausted. Instead of the extra cocktail, set yourself up in viparita karani with an eye bag, and elongate your exhalation. It can be so tempting to forgo practice when you’re feeling down or anxious. This is when your practice is the most important.

Don’t miss pranayama. It can set your nervous system on chill for the whole day. Take a step back from family drama by lying in savasana: feel the expanse of the whole earth beneath you. Feel your back body become wider and wider. When you get up and re-enter the family, keep dropping back into the embrace of your back body. Notice the triggers that family can so easily invoke, and, before you react, lean back and give yourself an extra breath.

Make lists to help you feel less overwhelmed, and reward yourself with a new pair of socks or a foot massage or whatever your treat may be when you tick three things off.

Besides plenty of rest, practice, perspective, making lists, and rewarding yourself, the best way to find peace is service, in whatever way resonates with you. So light a candle for a loved one, have a good cry, then think of a funny story about them, and have a good laugh.

The gift giving and the financial burden associated with the holidays can be a drain. Maybe instead of buying a gift for a friend, agree to have face time with each other. Meet at Common Ground or Jack’s, and for the price of a cup of coffee, come away with something far more valuable than another scarf. But, don’t over-obligate either.

Geez, it is such a balancing act.

Be easy on yourself, because you’re pretty great no matter what that imaginary scale says. And, as Pattabhi Jois used to say, “Practice, practice, practice, and all is coming.”

Keep spreading the love throughout this holiday season. We hope to see a lot of you in the upcoming months. We are home and can’t wait to reconnect

Much Love,

Colleen (and Rodney)

Samskaras

The word samskara comes from the Sanskrit “sam”—complete or joined together, and “kara”—action, cause, or doing.

“All of our thoughts, words, feelings, actions, behaviors and life experiences create impressions on our consciousness that are sort of like scars, or grooves on a record, or etches on a piece of metal” (from the blog freddiewyndhamyoga.com).

These grooves or scars arise from both positive and negative feelings or behavioral patterns and effect how we move through and respond to the world around us.

Negative samskaras create negative feelings such as anger, loneliness, jealousy, and anxiety. No one likes to feel these negative emotional responses, but they are deeply embedded… and while uncomfortable, they are familiar, they are our default responses to certain situations. Even though they cause us to feel bad, we are attached to them because they are what we know.

Our yoga practice gives us the tools to burn through unwanted samskaras. One of these tools is Tapas— literally “heat” or “intensity.” We create heat in our asana practice, purifying the physical body. We can also apply Tapas or intensity to our desire to not fall back on our bad habits.

The Yoga Sutra 2.33 address this directly by saying “Vitarka badhana pradipaksha bhavanam—“When disturbed by negative thoughts, opposite (positive) ones should be thought of.” When we are in the throes of our negative patterns we can actively choose to practice positive ones such as Maitri (friendliness), and Karuna (compassion).

When I feel a negative emotion, I can apply these concepts. I make a choice to think positive thoughts like friendliness or compassion and notice the negative sensations dissipate.

The practice does not keep me from having negative feelings, but as I become aware of them, and my response to them, I become more present.

Changing negative, default reactions does not come naturally, it takes practice. This action is called Abhyasa—“practice, effort, and vigilance of awareness.”

Next time you fall into the rut of anger, resentment or some other negative emotion, rather than accepting it, shine the heat of awareness on it.

Practicing this awareness is practicing yoga.

The Power of Pause

The day after Labor Day is known in these parts as Tumbleweed Tuesday. Yes, the traffic calms and you can eat at any restaurant that has the stamina to stay open. But these are just the visible signs of a giant East End exhale—it’s as if those of us still here collectively let go and say ahhhhhhhhh.

On that Tuesday morning, Colleen’s restorative sequence perfectly nurtures the heavy sigh, opening us up to a deep relaxation that brings us back to balance. And as a newcomer to the Yoga Shanti tribe, when I first came into the yoga room not familiar with this grand tradition, it was a welcome respite of calm before the impending wave of fall activity.

There is no stopping the engine that revs into high gear as back-to-school, work, and everyday life demand that we plug more deeply into our digital devices. Apps abound and the cloud holds the content of our lives. And yet this is just the dawn of the internet of everything.

So there is no denying our status update—we are fully connected. Always on. In fact, if you sleep with your cell phone, you are in good company. According to annual Pew Research studies, 65% of adults do it, and that jumps to 90% if your fall between the ages 18 and 29.

The irony is that while we are virtually connected 24/7, we are increasingly more disconnected from the present moment, from each other, and from our true selves.

The digital dominance in our life leaves little or no down time for the mind to rest. And we are already proud owners of a perfectly busy monkey mind. So now the mind is in hyper drive—over stimulated by the constant barrage of highly seductive digital distractions.

How do we slow it down? Who can hear their inner voice, take time to notice their breath, or look into the eyes of a loved one instead of a glowing screen?

I’ve been tethered far longer than most, starting down the digital media path in 1980. Learning to unplug was just a career survival strategy then, but now it’s a required life skill for everyone in our supercharged era.

Short of a full hog digital detox, here are simple ways to press pause, give your mind a rest, and make space to relax.

Schedule time for daily practice. Put it in the calendar like any other appointment—and be consistent. Make it a habit, and the magic will unfold. See Yoga Sutra 1.12 -1.16 to hack the roadmap to freedom.
Cultivate discernment—viveka—for what you decide to chase down the digital rabbit hole. Challenge yourself to get offline in a reasonably short period of time.
Pause your online sessions every 20-30 minutes to save your body and mind. Get up, stand up. Step away from the screen. Do some full breathing, and move around before restarting.
Place your bare feet or body on the bare earth for a few minutes each day. We are blessed to live by the ocean, so if you can do it on the sand, even better. This practice of earthing will ground and rejuvenate you.
Spend more time in nature. You’ll find it’s easy to exhale here. Simply enjoy and delight in the magnificence that surrounds us.
Do things that you love to do, sooner rather than later. Savor the feeling that arises as your engage in your chosen passion. Repeat often.
Experience precious time with family and friends, fully present. No devices. Lay down your weapons of distraction. The neuroscience tells us there is no such thing as multitasking, so remember what human interaction is all about.
Take short pauses throughout your day for breath awareness. Eyes open or closed. Sitting, standing, or lying down. One breath or one hundred. Whenever you feel like it, the breath is always with you, always available to help you navigate the inner terrain.
Love.

As Pema Chodron shares in When Things Fall Apart, “It’s a transformative experience to simply pause instead of immediately fill up the space. By waiting, we begin to connect with fundamental restlessness as well as fundamental spaciousness.”

Just remember, at any moment you can simply inhale, exhale, pause. How lucky are we? Om Om.

Yoga Scholars

My old buddy Rod Yee will often tell people that I’m a yoga “scholar,” which is akin to calling the heavily tattooed, long-haired dude who works over at our neighborhood pizza joint a “gourmet chef.” Rodney, bless his heart, knows a ton about yoga, but to paraphrase a famous line from an old VP debate, I know scholars, and, sir, I am not a scholar. I’ve had the good luck over the years to be friendly with several of our most noted yoga scholars, among them the late Georg Feuerstein, for whom I served as the assistant director of his now defunct Yoga Research and Education Center, and Mark Singleton, author of what is, in my humble opinion, one of the most important yoga histories of modern times, Yoga Body.

So yes, I know yoga scholars. What set these two gentlemen apart from an earlier generation, which, for the most part, was made up of eggheads only, is that both were extraordinary practitioners—they not only talked the talk, they also walked the walk.

A few years ago I began running across the yoga essays of a man by the name of James Mallinson. I’m not, I repeat, a scholar, but I like to think that after 34 years of study, I know a little bit about hatha yoga. It became crystal clear, however, after two or three encounters with Mr. Mallinson’s work, that I would have to downsize that “little bit” of knowledge to a “teensy little bit.”

Then it came to pass that the aforementioned Messers Singleton and Mallinson teamed up for a Kickstarter project, and asked me—me!—to endorse it. To get some idea of how honored I felt, as a lifelong Yankee fan, it was akin to being asked to give my seal of approval to the Commerce Comet and the Chairman of the Board—Mickey Mantle and Whitey Ford to you, Mets fans.

Then one thing led to another, and I soon had an occasional email correspondence going with Mr. Mallinson. I was a bit intimidated when I first wrote to “Dear Mr. Mallinson,” wondering if he’d even bother to reply, but the very next day there was “Jim” in my inbox. He turned out to be a regular guy, incredibly generous with his time (he’s a master Sanskritist who helped me immeasurably with a translation I was struggling with), humorous in that dry British way, and most of all, incredibly dismissive about all his amazing accomplishments.

Like Georg and Mark, James is not only a scholar but a most dedicated practitioner of the venerable discipline of yoga. Many of my yoga friends take great pride in their three or four trips to India over the years to study, but Jim has been every year for the last twenty-five years. Have you ever been to India? I have, and to paraphrase an old Army promo, it’s not just a trip, it’s an adventure. Twenty-five years running counts in my book as remarkable. His time there has been spent studying yoga in the traditional way—the way it was done for a thousand years in India—face-to-face with an acknowledged guru.

Yoga Shanti, the best yoga school in the country east of Piedmont Yoga in Oakland, will be hosting James in Sag Harbor on Saturday, August 23, and on Wednesday, August 27, at Shanti’s Big Apple venue. If you fancy yourself a serious yoga practitioner, there’s absolutely no excuse I can think of for not being in attendance. I’ve been to a couple of his talks out here on the Left Coast, and had the great good fortune to sit down to a dinner with him. I promise, guarantee, and assure you, that you will come away from the talk if not enlightened, then a heck of a lot smarter about yoga than when you arrived. I’m coming—to paraphrase another famous Brit, wild horses couldn’t keep me away—so see you there, or be square.

True Independence: Freedom to Feel

I danced Shiva Rea-style alone in my dark bedroom last night. Sshh, don’t tell anyone.

I barely told myself.

Dance, poetry, music…yoga—each of these experiences affords us entry into that special, magical kingdom within, from which we are otherwise barred entry, barraged and embedded as we are in schedules, plans, strategies. By their grace we regain a kind of Eden missing from ordinary life. The poetry, the music, the yoga—All summons that Eden forward. We exit relative reality and bask however briefly in the divine extravagance of pure feeling, unencumbered by duality.

Yoga fails when self-consciousness enters the room. Fretting at all over “what others may think” renders the holy dance dead in the water, and yoga then doesn’t happen for us; there is no joy, and yoga continues its sad descent into empty Indian calisthenics with nifty side effects like longer hamstrings and a calm brow. Yoga and its offerings devolve to mere stress management, and another sage rolls over in an ancient grave.

We are entreated over and over to “be present.” But we can’t be present and think at the same time. Impossible! We are only ever thinking thoughts about the past, whether a lifetime ago, a year ago, or three seconds ago; or thinking thoughts about the future, whether a lifetime ahead, a year ahead, or three seconds ahead. Go ahead and try to think about something that isn’t one of those things. Thinking about what I just wrote is thinking about the past.

Reality, otherwise known as What Is, lives in neither the past nor the future. EVER. As real as our thoughts feel, they separate us from What Is. Funny, isn’t it? We have been trained to think of thinking as being super aware, when more often it’s the opposite. Thinking gets you in touch with other thoughts that mate furiously and have more thoughts. They don’t believe in birth control. It feels like an ant colony up in there, doesn’t it?

The yogis knew this a long time ago. The English word “mind” (as in yours) comes from the Sanskrit “mana,” which means “to measure.” That’s because to think is to measure; it is to separate and divide one thing from another like Chinese from French, or raincoat from down parka, or red from blue. Helpful if you’re allergic to French and its snowing and you’d like to vote Democratic, but beyond that, not helpful for the yogini.

That’s why we who teach yoga are always asking you to stay with the breath. The breath is one thing you can count on as occurring in the present moment and only in the present moment. To disappear inside of it is to merge in the present moment. Very paradoxical. Yoga can place you in direct relationship with your IS. The senses come alive like water hitting desert and they alone key us into what IS rather than what is a thought in your head that shuffles around year after year taking up space and making you wonder if Bellevue has a spare bed on the 6th floor.

There’s a lot working against you, making it damn hard to follow the advice of the teacher telling you again and again to “be present.” You’ve got the NSA peeking in your underwear drawers and cameras on every corner recording as you walk the dog, fight with your lover, sob in 7/11, and determine which carrot to buy for dinner. Add the proliferation of social media and the idea of always being “on,” lest someone upload you chowing down at Tutti mid-pasta bite, and we are all occasionally turned into strange creatures made of appearance and scrim, wish, and fib.

We have been trained not to feel…anything. By “feelings” I don’t mean your emotions. I have no advice about them. They are in a league of their own, as you and your team of shrinks well know. Here we mean the feelings of the body. It’s scary. To feel is to be vulnerable. You’re only allowed to feel things in the bedroom or in a paid stranger’s small, candlelit den, replete with Enya, warm oil, and massage certificates on a dim wall. Much easier to think your way through a yoga class. But we all know how that works out in the bedroom. It’s the same on your mat. To be present is to be available for what’s going down.

Only the strong can tolerate being vulnerable. When you start to feel the subtle, shimmering, ever-arising and disappearing, tactile somatic glimmerings of the body, life avails herself to you in an entirely different way, and the whole fake Western pioneer town of your life begins to fall down. You see for the first time that there is nothing at all behind the façade of cowboys and saloons and dusty horses. Connection is not a thought. Joy is not a thought. Compassion is not a thought. All are an experience, a feeling.

No longer are you asunder from Everything Else. No longer are you twiddling your thumbs on the sidelines of nature, that green thing out the window. Rather, you step fully and completely into the ever-present NOW, and that book you read half of by Eckhart Tolle begins to make dramatic and compelling sense, and you don’t need anyone anymore to tell you up from down, right from wrong, yes from no, because you are now IN IN IN. And for a glorious moment, all truth and wisdom is yours.

God isn’t an entity to worship but an experience to have. It’s a funny thing when the founders of religions are allowed to experience ecstasy, but their adherents aren’t.

Quit that.

Love,

Kelly

Role Models

I went to visit one of my dearest friends in the hospital the other day. (We met the day I moved to NYC. I taught him yoga, and he taught me New York.) We spent the afternoon reminiscing about our friendship and the ways that our lives have changed since we met. He saw the exhaustion in my eyes and said, “Joyce, in the last year you’ve become a wife, a mother, a new business owner—an adult. That’s a lot for one year.”

I’d gone to the hospital to see my friend, and I left feeling seen.

In yoga, we often ask the question, “Who am I?” I’ve always thought that we were supposed to use this question to break free from the roles that we play every day—to go deeper than “I am a mother. I am a wife. I am a sister. I am a business owner.” Honestly, I’ve always considered any one of these roles as somewhat superficial. However, it felt so profound to be seen by my old friend, that I’ve begun to re-examine the question, “Who am I?”

The roles that we play in our lives are deep, and much bigger than who we are as individuals. In fact, these roles are often deeply ingrained in the fabric of our society. To be in a particular role in your family or company—can help you manage your time and life effectively.

But back to the question, “Who am I?” What if we want to break free of a traditional role? What if we want to evolve that role? What if we want to live with two or three roles that are actually at odds with one another? Well, then I suppose you have a pretty dynamic life to lead. And what better place to practice the dynamics of finding balance and counterbalance of opposing forces than on the yoga mat?

What I have found particularly important about having a daily yoga practice is that no matter what else changes in my life, the fact that I have a practice can remain constant. No matter where I am in the world, no matter how much or how little time I have, no matter what other people around me are doing, I can still practice yoga every day. And without fail, having a daily practice means I feel more patient, centered, and genuine in all the other roles I am juggling. I hope to see you on the mat soon.

Pratyahara

We all use our five senses to experience and navigate through the world around us. But in order to gain “right relationship” with the world and our highest selves, yogis focus on the inner world. We do this through the practice of pratyahara, which means “to draw the senses inward.” (Pratyahara is one of the eight limbs of ashtanga yoga set down by the great sage Patanjali in his Yoga Sutras—so it’s a pretty important thing to look at if you’re interested in yoga.)

When we practice pratyahara, we soften our skin, release the inners ears, and relax our eyes. This is just a start, but already we begin to have an inkling of the vast interior space of our being. We gain insight and intuition. All the “aha moments” experienced in yoga class are a result of tuning in to our bodies, minds, and hearts.

This is an exciting start to spiritual practice. Just by turning our attention inward and listening, we hear and receive guidance. With practice, we begin to trust the invisible. It takes a leap of faith to listen to our inner voice, and a further leap to respond to the messages sung to us through our bodies.

Paying profound attention to the self is not unlike diving into the ocean. It can be scary, and we worry about what might come out of the depths; but there is nothing more exhilarating. As Rumi says, “Don’t be a cup with a dry rim.”

Happy Summer 2014

You Are Ready

In December of 1997, a young woman named Julia Hill climbed into a 180-foot tall, roughly 1500-year-old California Redwood tree for 738 days until December of 1999. Julia lived in the tree, affectionately known as “Luna,” to prevent Pacific Lumber Company loggers from cutting it down. Throughout her ordeal, she weathered freezing rains and 40 mph winds from El Niño, helicopter harassment, a ten-day siege by company security guards, and attempted intimidation by angry loggers. In one of her interviews, she talked about how she faced each one of these challenges. She sat on her platform, wrapped in her sleeping bag, and prayed for strength.

Every time she prayed for strength, she was struck with another hardship. She continued to pray for strength, and again, another hardship. She said it took awhile, as she usually learns things the hard way, but that eventually she realized that she was getting what she asked for. You don’t get your strength when it’s easy, you get your strength when you are faced with a situation that asks you to use it.

Someone told me once that whatever it is you are given, you always have the ability to handle it. No matter the level of grief, loss, discomfort, or even success that you are asked to step into, you are ready for it, and you have all you need to work with it.

It occurred to me this week while I was planning 300 hours of advanced teacher training, writing this article, and prepping for a 30-person juice-cleanse retreat, that although I was in no way under the same circumstances as Julia, I was, like her, praying for strength. I could hear the voices inside complaining, resenting my commitments, feeling overwhelmed, and not knowing how I would make it through. I kept hearing “I can’t do it, help me.” Even though I wanted nothing more than to do everything life was asking of me and offering me, I could hear myself resisting. Sometimes we get the roadmap to where we want to go, but then resist what we must do to get there. The voice inside convinces us that we cannot make it through, and we resort to the hope that someone will relieve us from the current circumstance and make it easier.

In the midst of my own personal dramas of overcommitting myself, I also heard a quieter, calmer voice suggest that maybe I could. Maybe I was strong enough, had enough time and skill, and the pile up was only giving me a chance to flex my muscle of ability. The words “I can” came through a little crack. I repeated them. They lightened the load.

The question becomes: why do we doubt ourselves and fear what we are being asked to experience? Why do we resort to feeling like we can’t do so many things, when in fact those things are happening right now, and we are doing them?

There used to be a sign at the old Jivamukti studio right before you walked into the classrooms that read: “Are you ready?” I would be in yoga clothes, mat in hand, shoes off, phone off, so YES, I felt ready. Inevitably, when we got to an arm balance that I wasn’t comfortable in or never felt I had the strength for, I would then feel very not ready. I would hear this voice in my head saying, “I can’t, nope, I’m incapable, not now.” It’s in this moment that the strength you are praying for is being offered to you. But it doesn’t mean it’s an easy road. If it’s coming into your life, it means that you are ready.

A Message from Rodney Yee…

New York City, here we are!

Just when you had Yoga Shanti neatly tucked away in your Sag Harbor reality… KaBoom! Yoga Shanti NYC! Nestled in the Flat Iron District of New York City, the second incarnation of the gold ceiling has been raised—a yoga palace in the historic Grand Lodge building of the Masonic Temple.

The yoga community that has grown around Yoga Shanti Sag Harbor over the 15 years since Colleen opened the doors has been a true source of joy for both Colleen and myself. The community is so rich with life, depth, and friendship. Under Colleen’s magical leadership, there have been 11 teacher training programs, which have cultivated some of the finest teachers in the nation. It was becoming more and more apparent that we need a home in the Big Apple for Yoga Shanti clientele and for this expanding group of talented and well-trained teachers.

Out of respect and friendship, Joyce, Ariel, Jenny, Colleen, and myself formed a yoga partnership to undertake this new endeavor. After a year-long gestation, Yoga Shanti New York has been birthed and is ready to serve. We are so proud of the space and the incredible group of teachers, and we are already seeing the special community that is blossoming. We are staying true to the original spirit of Yoga Shanti, even as we dialog and tweak the New York studio to be tailored to your specific needs “In The City.” We always welcome your feedback, for ideally this yoga vessel is for you.

Colleen and I will be teaching at Yoga Shanti New York approximately every other week on Tuesdays and Wednesdays (and please be assured, we are not cutting back at all from Yoga Shanti Sag Harbor!). We are also excited that at Yoga Shanti NYC we will be able to host our yoga colleagues from around the world, Yoga luminaries who will spark a great fire within!

The seed has been planted, the tree is pushing up to the sky… Spring is here. Come taste the abundant fruit that is now within your city reach.

~ Rodney Yee