As the northern hemisphere slows down, shouldn't we too?

As we step into the proverbial holiday season, it feels like life puts its crazy hat on. My To Do List goes into hyper drive, and it seems like me, my body and I come absolute last to everything else in my life. I get a little crankier, less able to get out of bed, less focused and effective, and suddenly a lot of things seem to bother me more... I am finally beginning to see a connection between these aspects of myself growing into crazed monster proportions and the fact that my personal hatha practice falls into the gutter. So this week, I am going to try a holiday friendly experiment and put myself first, first thing in in day in three ways:
1. my yoga first. First thing in the morning, before food and everything else.
2. meditate
3. turn the computer off by 9pm

Just for the next week. I am going to invite the fire of tapas in to help me slow down. I will let you know how it goes.

Giving and Receiving

"Just breathe and receive," this experience, right now, good or bad. "Just breathe and receive", has become my mantra more than any others in the past few months. Sometimes it is something really positive, an unexpected act of generosity or thoughtful kindness; sometimes I am “breathing and receiving” the enormity of an unpleasant situation or an unforeseen obstacle. Particularly in the more disagreeable moments the conscientious inhalation has allowed me to commune with the experience to: more fully learn from it; realize it wasn’t as bad as I thought; or completely let it go.

Just breathe and receive. Being in a place of learning to accept support and help, I have become more aware that so many of my friends, family members and colleagues are true givers from deep, kind and generous depths, even when it is exhausting for them to continue providing and supplying from energetic stores that have been depleted. It seems intrinsic in their spirits. They stretch wide to embrace so many other people to effect, heal, empower, provide for. Oftentimes, putting the needs and wants of others before their own. The flipside of this output, as I have experienced: it can been very, very hard to ask for help, to look for support in an interdependent kind of way and to receive it graciously.

One of my dear friends, recently got terribly ill. She is a powerful nurturer, phenomenal bodyworker, conscientious studio owner, amazing teacher who is constantly giving of herself to her students, her clients and her community near and far. She fell very sick in the midst of a training; which became an opportunity for a few of her colleagues to take care of her, and for another teacher to step into a spotlight in a beautiful way. And for the first time in a long time I believe she was able to rest. Her body knew more than her mind did that she would be meticulously taken care of.

In midst of crisis, trauma and emergency, we can look inside and be independent or learn how to ask for help. It becomes easier to ask for help when big things go down, when we practice in little ways everyday. One of my teachers says when you ask for help, you are simply giving another the opportunity to do something good. And I believe this is the only sustainable way to keep reaching out and spreading light. It feels so good to ask and receive (even if, for me, there is a bigger leap of faith than in knowing I can and will get it done myself).

As we are about to embark on the “season of giving” (because it begins after Halloween, now right?), I am looking forward enjoying the current shift in my perspective: to receive graciously. That maybe these next couple of months can be about giving and receiving, and the delight in the cycle.

Strength from Softness

Last weekend, at Estes Park Yoga Journal Conference, I spent an illuminating day with Amy Ippoliti in her day long Anusara & Yoga Therapeutics Intensive. This weekend, I got my proverbial butt kicked at an AcroYoga & Acrobatics Intensive weekend with Jason Magness & Chelsey Gribbons. The two experiences could seem so distinctly on opposite sides of the yoga spectrum. I found myself in the middle of my awareness, face to face with my preconceived stories, looking over my edge at an abyss of what is and is not possible. And that the latter may not exist, if only my mind would allow.

I came away from Amy's workshop with a delightful perspective on the power of Matrika Shakti, in my simple understanding, it is concept that words arise from your energetic body and reveal themselves as your universal truth (for more: http://spiritualhealingjourney.com/words-can-hurt-you/). That what you say, becomes your reality. For example, if you are always referring to your "bad knee", than by your verbal/mental relationship gets stuck in that place and will continue to be what you will be living with/dealing with: a bad knee.

We explored a lot of movement, techniques for healing, but above all else: what are the words and stories surrounding your injuries? Amy would turn around commonly heard comments in a way that continues to make me laugh, instead of referring to a shoulder that always hurts, she would say "Hey, remember that shoulder thing I had. Wasn't that weird?" It magnetizes space and a quirky curiosity to my expanding awareness, rather than frustrated expectation of my own healing, while also implying that the body being in health and able to heal itself is the norm.

Fast forward a few days to the beginning of the Acrobatic AcroYoga workshop. We were asked an introductory question: who would you be if you were a Superhero? The first answer that popped into my head (which is usually the right one right?) Bionic Woman, because she was transformed from a place of incapacitating injury to unbelievable strength and ability. I think I have this, I think we all have this capability, if only our thinking allows it to be so.

‘Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond imagination. It is our light more than our darkness which scares us. We ask ourselves – who are we to be brilliant, beautiful, talented, and fabulous. But honestly, who are you to not be so?...

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

- Marianne Williamson in Return to Love: Reflections on a Course in Miracles

During the next two days I came to observe the reflection of: what I am comfortable with; what my body can accomplish easily; how I react when I it comes not so easily; what happens when I get a little scared; and ultimately began to unravel my body-image-ability stories. I discovered I have a lot of stories, particularly those around situations that push my edge of discomfort into fear (when my mental mind knows there is no need and expects differently). Now I begin to move forward into an ever-so-slightly shifted relationship about myself with the tools of laughter and curiosity to soften my expectations, my fears, and dissolve the stagnating stories, from here a wellspring of strength flows.

Estes Park, Colorado

I feel so blessed and grateful to be supporting my teachers and the AcroYoga practice at the Estes Park Yoga Journal Conference; surrounded by the Rocky Mountains of Colorado and so many amazing talented yoga peeps. The yoga, scenery, and hiking are simply amazing.

My friend and colleague, Amy and I, decided to depart for a hiking adventure late this afternoon with the lofty goal that we might go bouldering. We arrived as most other visitors were leaving. Geared up with some hot green tea in my Klean Kanteen and my five finger shoes we started walking up and up and up. The higher we went, the harder it was to walk and talk at the same time; and the more tempting each subsequent vista became, beckoning us to stop and soak in the scenery, the changing aspens in the late day light.

We found our destination, and it felt as if we had deliberately stumbled on a land before time. The rocky landscape felt exquisitely ancient and the trees felt more wise than others I had met. Maybe it had not been so wise to venture out so late in the day, but we delighted in the solitude as the lakes, mountains, trees and boulders seemed to exist for our appreciation alone.

Hours upon hours of asana practice and theory, at the Conference, had left me feeling open; but now I felt satiated, nourished, grounded. I had needed a hike like this for months, as well as the camaraderie and discussion of my hiking companion.

So healing, nourishing, relaxing and inspiring.

It was a reminder about what I need to take care of myself.

Yogi Bhajan Everyday says:

"If you do not understand that life exists to challenge you with every breath, you do not understand living. If you do not challenge your life yourself, somebody will challenge it. "

In this I find relief, comfort and gratitude.

A Yoga Sutra to the Rescue

I have been trying to juggle an existence between hustling to get myself feeling established in my new home city, and trying to chill out by enjoying the beautiful diversity of trees, Santa Ynez Mountains towering above as the clouds clear, the Pacific ocean not too far away, and delicious meals with new friends. The days pass by and the balance feels so precarious to maintain, and sometimes absolutely elusive.

I haven't made a big move in many years and it slipped from my mind that it is stressful to leave the comfort of known family and friends, established work relationships, and even familiar geography. As I am trying to hold space for the feelings that such a large life transition can entail, little obstacles appear under foot almost daily. Small perceived injustices grow in size, and shape in my consciousness. Every inconvenience can feel like the universe possibly has a personal vendetta against my current vulnerability, winding my emotional spring tighter.

In exasperation, I picked up Nischala Joy Devi's book The Secret Power of Yoga and opened it to a random page with the hope of finding some comfort or illumination. This is what I found: "When presented with disquieting thoughts or feelings cultivate an opposite elevated attitude. This is pratipaksha bhavana." (Yoga Sutra II.33). I felt simultaneous gratitude (illumination sure enough), frustration (how would this be possible?), relief (this was a suggestion to try), confusion (again, how would this be possible) and finally curiosity (i can just try it).

I suddenly realized I was making things harder for myself specifically by sharing in conversations with loved ones about minor discomforts. It is hard to not blame someone when things are going exactly the way we might like. It boiled down to gossip on occasion. I was concentrating through thought and conversation on what was not working, and inevitably, if only in my mind transgressions grew worse.

In the last week, every time I felt like someone was negatively affecting my life, I would simply hold a little space (however tiny it is), to question if this Sutra could apply. And so far, new perspectives that are changing the way I can approach and literally feel about uncomfortable situations, are opening up to me spaciously and graciously. It is work, and I am still struggling, but a little more easefully and joyfully so.

Comfort in Discomfort

I am traveling.
I am in a period of transition.
I am extremely uncomfortable.

I have been traveling for a couple of months. When people ask me where I am from, I don't exactly know right now. Some questions are usually so simple for most people.

I moved out of New York City (I know that). I thought I was moving back home to New Jersey. Plans changed, so I am one my way to move back to Santa Barbara, the hard part is I don't know where exactly I am going to be living in two weeks. There are always things nattering. That is human existence. As of lately I have coupled the nattering, exacerbated it and added a component of constant leaving-arriving-getting settled-having-amazing-experiences-and-then-leaving (and repeat); while also trying to get the next phase of my life virtually set up. It is hard to not let the beauty of today be destroyed by the imminent unknown, and my anxiety/fear/discomfort wrapped up in this constant state of flux.

I am excited about the big things, like the job which is the reason I am relocating. But the little things are what I am most looking forward to: biking to work (so long parking drama and hours on the subway); eating food handed to me by the person who grew it at the farmers market; and a little more time for myself on a day to day basis (I hope) to look inward or explore the gorgeous outdoors. The conundrum right now, is as it always seems to be for me, is finding a balance of accomplishing as many little details as I can and letting go of my expectation that more can get done, letting go of the fear/anxiety (I could make up things that I might need to worry about because my imagination is so creative), letting go letting go letting go. I am having mental-emotional-life-size growing pains.

And of course, meditation practice has been alluding me, like a tricky butterfly that won't land. It has been on my to do list , although as I write I realize it should be on a "to be" list. I have been floating in a distressing sea of this dis-ease for weeks. The prescription for any relief has been (in addition to letting go) more yoga than regular, and more running. I find if I can exhaust my body, my mind gives up. Then I can sit and breathe. And I feel a little better for a brief and fleeting moment.

I am realizing this time, this place of disquiet is no different than how my life always is, the level of ache is simply magnified at this time during this period of change. And I have no patience for it to take over. As I travel to visit friends and family each moment is absolutely too precious because I don't know exactly when I will be in the same place or see these faces I love again. So I am inviting in the possibility that I can be comfortable in this period of transition, in this discomfort that happens to be my life right now at this very moment (and maybe even enjoy things while I am at it)... and bring this awareness with me when I get settled again.

I made a plan to not make a plan...

A few months ago, I finally listened to the call of my intuition and realized it was time for me not to live in New York City anymore. I didn't know where I was going, what I was going to do exactly, but I knew I needed to leave. My time was up in the big apple, I was spinning my wheels professionally, and emotionally. My being and existence was burnt out in every sense of the word. I had been trying to "make" it in the city that never sleeps, by simultaneously living at least three different lives over the course of five years that I can distinctly recognize as I look retrospectively. (A visit to an acupuncturist confirmed my kidneys, liver, and chi were all depleted, well huh that explains some things).

I had become really good at setting goals, making plans and accomplishing tasks. Man, oh, man are my to do lists great (although I still wonder why it doesn't feel as good to complete them as it feels bad not too, but that is another story for another day...). I thought, as I resigned from my stable-yet-slightly-prestigous job and moved out of my super-hip apartment, that I was completely uprooting and going as nomadic as possible, committing to only short term plans and goals. Maybe California to NYC to Australia became plan A, otherwise titled "The Plan to Not Make A Plan".

First stop, Santa Barbara California for a few weeks. Little did I know what this idyllic city had in mind for me, little did I expect to be welcomed with open arms and held in a very, very comfortable embrace. I had arrived in late June, hired to co-direct a youth circus. This in and of itself was a joyful experience. The ambiance of focus, hard-work and passion was unparalleled. I had never had the opportunity to go so deep in work with students so young, and feel so supported, while also being able to fully focus on one project and taken to my edge as a teacher and director. It was a relief and an inspiration. And after work, all the things I love were at my door-step: farmers markets, the beach, the park, hiking, biking, kayaking. There was little not to love.

Then the unexpected and unthinkable happened, the theater company invited me to join the their ranks as an actor. For the first time in my life someone was offering me a position to do what I loved, had trained, worked, sweated and practically bled for. Something I didn't realize until that moment I had pretty much given up on in the past few years. Surprising myself, I was reluctant to say yes. I sat for a couple of weeks in this place of hesitation, in wonderment at my recalcitrance. Then it dawned on me: I had become very attached to my plan to not make a plan. I really liked the idea of the freedom that the unfettered and unrooted life seemed to promise; but this present opportunity was something I had yearned for for years. I finally said yes, but not with the open-hearted joyfulness I expected of myself, which I see is simply because that commitment is saying no to a certain realm of infinite possibility.

I let it go slowly but surely, plan A has become a hope for another day. And I have begun practicing letting go of the plans I make on a day to day and week to week basis. Some plans are necessary (when work or plane tickets are involved); but what to do for dinner is not, to go to the park or to the beach. It feels really good, and at times like I am stepping into a brand new unexpected relationship with myself.

I didn't know I didn't know

about life beyond the fixed gear bicycle. I have always thought of myself as a beach cruiser kind of girl...

In my attempt to invoke spaciousness and balance in my life, to invite happiness beyond anything I have imagined before, I find myself in living in a little zen sanctuary studio for a few weeks in the canyons above Santa Barbara. Biking is my solitary mode of transportation. What I eat, how I plan the day, all of it has changed living up up up a hill. I don't know if I feel like I am in a dream, or the last few years in New York were a dream, but the contrast feels so stark it must be one or the other, as I am on a technological (internet was out for a week) and dietary detox (eating fresh local organic berries, peaches, bok choy, green beans, melon, oh my).

I can't imagine that I will be able to get back on the subway earnestly, after knowing the sweet rush of a downhill ride on a foggy morning, or the slow climb on the lowest gear under the hot sun. I love that the distance between my place of work and my temporary home is the same, but getting shorter everyday. There are so many delicious smells to breathe in and different trees/plants to notice that I am more enamored each day. Nor did I know that I didn't know that I love the quiet darkness of the night so much, or the simple music of the birds every morning.

The Hundred Monkeys in Haarlem

There were thirty-nine AcroYoga teachers and teachers-soon-to-be at the Dutch Acrobatic Festival and over a hundred AcroYogis from London, Germany, Boston, Amsterdam, New York, and more places to innumerable to count. I felt a little nervous, but well prepared as I arrived in Haarlem on a gorgeous blue sky day. I had spent the last five days in Amsterdam training in acrobatics with my teachers (Jenny and Jason) exploring the city, eating cheese and croissants, connecting or reconnecting with other teachers and simply falling in love with the city. And bikes-- I had no idea there could be such an incredible sense of freedom in a city. Every moment in motion on my cow-spotted bike was one of glorious happiness.

I was so intensely and creatively inspired by everything: the workshops, the layout, the high level of safety, and the intense level of training, focus and technique in combination. I took it slow and easy, spending a lot of time observing, experimenting, standing on my hands, sleeping and doing it all over again. There was something for everyone no matter your age or experience level. I am coming to the conclusion, that Acrobats are a different animal than the AcroYogi, although it is possible to transform. I like what I refer to as the acroyogi way, "building a foundation slowly and surely step-by-step", whereas the acrobats were literally jumping onto my hands. ( My life is continually surprising me, and maybe I will be there next year.)

I also felt a sense of coming back to the roots of what I practice and teach, I was struck with a memory of what I was told when I was studying creative writing, "there are no new stories under the sun. It is only in the way you tell them". There is a precarious balance that is easy to fall from if you don't know where you come from. The components of AcroYoga for example (Thai Massage, Yoga and Acrobatics) are each thousands of years old from around the globe. I realized more clearly, that there is nothing truly new in what we do, but how we do it, fold it together and share it. It is empowering, as a teacher-practitioner to see how the founders of both AcroYoga and CircusYoga have taken ancient, primordial lineages of movement and play, codified them, given accessible structure through common vocabulary and pedagogy, and that the circle of inclusion is growing exponentially. Coming back to this rooted place, allows me to let go of any sense of ego and focus on the simple intentions of: playful exploration and unconditional sharing.

A couple days after I returned, I was playing in the park with some friends. Two of them wanted to share a "new sequence". I was excited and inspired that it closely resembled, in that same-same-but-different-kind-of-way one of my favorite new sequences that I had learned in Haarlem. I couldn't help thinking about the Hundredth Monkey Theory (http://www.wowzone.com/monkey.htm) and critical mass. It all makes me wonder if we are exploring a realm bigger than we can comprehend in these joyful physical practices.

Passport emergency

The Dutch Acrobatic Festival-- I have been hearing stories about this amazing annual gathering of European acrobats for years. I couldn't help conjuring up the possibility that I might be getting in way over my head as I booked my airline ticket to Amsterdam. I had put in my vacation request at work in September (almost eight months earlier) to ensure I would streamline my energy and resources to make it happen. I was so excited as I packed and repacked my bags the week before the trip.
Then I discovered, less than forty-eight hours before I was scheduled to leave, that Americans are no-longer allowed to travel internationally if your passport will expire within six months of departure--within six months of your travel dates-- or possibly within six months of the return date, no three months within the date of departure-- this is to say it wasn't really clear. I spent two arduous and unproductive hours searching online for an answer to this possible delay of my long anticipated adventure. The policy, is not yet published explicitly on any government site that I could find (yet); but the message was clear, the airlines definitely wouldn't let me fly. I willed myself to go to sleep at 1:30am, setting my alarm for 7am, so I might be on the phone by the time the agencies of possible hope would be open.
Waking up with a sort of nausea hangover feeling at too-little sleep. I willed myself to be grateful for the day, this was the most stressful self-made emergency I had had in many, many years. I was going to be getting on a plane in a day and a half, or I wasn't. But I was really hoping and counting that I was... Magically with the support of my mom, two special friends and my work colleagues I spent the day getting my passport renewed (travel.state.gov is pretty sweet and I owe some people some thank you letters).
The details of the crazy passport renewal day were the usual: people walking too slowly in front of me, un-helpful (or sometimes from my perspective rude) customer service reps on the phone, and flat out denial that what I was trying to accomplish was possible. I kept trying to be grateful for the day (this was not a life or death situation), trying to breathe and simply being completely, utterly and absolutely present. How much of the day, of this stress, of the myriad of emotions could I experience without any extra? Could I actually come out of this experience without blaming anyone else for it? As I was finally on a train to South Norwalk Connecticut from NYC to make my 1:30pm emergency passport appointment and the train stalled, stopped, and shut off unexpectedly, I sighed. I was going to make it, or I wasn't. Worrying, angering, blaming, tensing my jaw-- those were all choices. Someone else could be stressed about all this, but I wasn't going to be anymore. And "Just keep breathing and noticing" became my mantra.
I made it to the appointment. By 4:07pm I had a fancy new legitimate passport in hand. Every single person who helped or supported me that day were unexpected, as I had set out to get it "done" myself. I wouldn't have been on the plane the next day, if I hadn't been open to asking for support, and being open to receive it and the truly beautiful people who were ready, able and willing to give it.
The trip hadn't begun officially, but the adventure certainly had.