Sweet Breakfast

I was away for a conference in Chicago for just under a week. I had a room that overlooked Grant Park, the city, Lake Michigan. On the first day I had some free time and thought I would do some Chicago things that I love to do... Instead, I barely got out of bed. It was King sized -- with the curtains wide open -- creatureless and tucked in... I think I slept for about 17 hours that first day. I needed that.

This morning I retrieved the dog. She alternated between running in circles and burring her head in me. Now she is sleeping, exhausted from her own vacation, sprawled and at ease.

It was like that with the kids, too. One of those huge hugs which comes with an enormous sigh...
Thank Goodness you are back. I need you.

Vacations are good. Coming home is good. Nourishment. Nurture. I needed that.

I also took a vacation from yoga. My body has been tired. My heart, at times, has felt too open for the pressures right now. The Wise One told me to trust the desire not to tune in for a minute... that it is ok to watch bad TV over Shivasana at times...



Every year that I attend this conference there is some little bit of magic. This year it was breakfast with a stranger -- a fiction writer whose work I had never read -- though I am now working on a recent novel and am absolutely enamored... as I was on Saturday.

I talked to him about my problems with writing. With my loss of faith -- or estrangement as lovers might forget each other... he protested such flowery embellishment. He told me to sit myself down and write. If you have fallen out of love, he said, that is ok. But if you haven't, then you know what you need to do. Thank Goodness you are back. I need you.



And on the first Sun Salutation of the day, the same coming home...
Good morning, Sweet Breath. Sweet Writing, Sweet Creatures.
Thank Goodness you are here -- to hold me. I missed you.

Shivasana Kisses

A funny thing happened last week...
I had this luxurious 5 days where all I had to do was listen to wonderful yoga teachers tell me what to do -- it was spread out over a week, but started with a three hour heart opening workshop -- on the few off days I found sleep more desirable than practice.
It was really wonderful -- and by the end, I noticed, I was missing my own voice. I was tired of other people's practices. I wanted my own.

Why is it so hard to trust my own voice? Believe in it?
What if I was beginning to change that...


I had a funny headstand this morning. First, the doubt. Sweet Teacher is trying to move us into the middle of the room with our headstand. I can do that now. But I'm always scared to. I started a few today -- then chickened out. So I moved to the wall. The door, actually, in this case -- I close the door to the living room and use it as my net. I immediately moved into my strongest head stand to date. I stayed there for about a minute. Then the dog came over and kissed my nose. I didn't fall out -- and even managed a raspy, go lie down. But really, it was so sweet. I stayed another minute and came down earlier than I needed to. I always do that. It's like I have to build the muscles while I'm not paying attention...

She kissed me in Shivasana too.

This was the Rumi I opened to this morning:

Don't let your throat tighten
with fear. Take sips of breath
all day and night, before death
closes your mouth.

Good morning, Sweet Day.

Scared of my shadow...

I get superstitious about some things... it's true. I used to have the collected works of Emily Dickenson by my bed in college -- and pretty much any time I opened it it would speak directly to my situation. There have been other books too. And this crazy guy who does amazing horoscopes... I don't believe in such things -- but him...
Sometimes I think it's just a matter of what you want to hear -- of course -- like a tarot reader ready to pick up on what you are saying you don't mean to. But it's the self tricking the self into belief of insight...

Anyway -- lately -- Sweet Teacher always seems to have what I need in any given day. Sharing and touching and moving into the light.

It was hard to go today -- sort of. Physicality, a bout with insomnia, some scattered work issues... So much that I left for class with nothing -- no mat, no towel... very unlike me. I thought I forgot my phone -- which was in my bag... the picture of the scattered and tattered and entirely non-committed.

But her joy... that would make it worth it...

Any yoga practice worth its salt is not about the sunshine. It'a about the shadows.

The shadows.
If this is a practice for life...
The creatures have been having nightmares... I haven't slept soundly in over a week.
Physical and emotional upheaval.
My therapist asked -- (I need a name for her, don't I... hmmm, have to think on that...) if the pain in your stomach could tell you what it wanted to speak to what would it say? I can't quite go that far with her, but I can rephrase it... Well, I suppose if it was a metaphor it would say, it's one thing to be healing, but you need to take things gently none the less -- I can't really withstand trauma right now -- virus or difficulty is sure to throw things way back out of whack...

"Today I invite you to let any anxiety -- and discomfort -- any shadow to come and speak to you -- to give it some space and help it relax..."

It was a hard practice, but just what I needed. I don't feel like a warrior. I do not feel like a tree.
Good morning sweet shadow.

Let the anxiety tell you what it needs to now -- and then breathe it out. There is nothing left to do for it now.

Out Of Breath

January 28

A few months ago I told a teacher, who was talking to me and a friend about breath and yoga, that breath-work – pranayama – made me panicky. I get anxious in the state of trying to control my own intake – the feeling would well, suddenly, that I would not be able to breathe, that there is not enough air. This is a little ironic, I suppose, as the purpose is to learn how much expansiveness there is – in our breath, in our breathing, in our bodies…

Over the last week I have been focusing on that fear – the exercise is one of expanding breath – to longer and longer inhales and exhales. To pause at the top and bottom of each breath.

It is not when my lungs are filled with air that I am afraid – but when they are empty. At moments, I have emptied all of the air and am still… I feel as if the world is closing in. I feel as if I am suffocating. And I am working on the few moments when I begin to inhale again not to be greedy with the air – to maintain composure and discipline even with the fear not yet subsided – even with belief not yet restored.

Sweet teacher said today, can you make a practice of surrender? Can you make a practice of giving up.

Giving up, she said.

Is it the giving up with the understanding that I will breathe again? That being without is the basis of being with?

Lately, breath work is one of my favorite parts of the day. Each morning I am amazed at the space inside. At the way fear can be worked through...

Practice for life.

January 16

This morning I came to the mat distracted. I resisted the beginning. I started late. I missed the breath work entirely trying to work on half lotus at the same time.

It is amazing that I can begin to work on half lotus. I injured my hip in 2010 and through the middle of last year I couldn’t even sit cross-legged.

I am wavering in my dedication to something else today. Something I believe to be right and true.

So I thought about Sweet Teacher – her voice telling us this is a practice for life.

In wavering on dedication I lost the enjoyment and the benefit of the breath. I lost the peace of the moment. The resistance to what I have set in my path is fruitless then. I am here. I am sitting and I am breathing. I can feel what it is life to find the expansive space inside me – I can feel what it is life to work in coordination with the body and living… or I can resist.

I kept waiting for my daughter to walk in this morning. Hoping I could ask her to take a seat on my mat…

She is fast asleep in her bed.

Disapointment.

January 15

For the past two weeks I’ve been quietly assessing what personal practice means to me…

I thought, at the beginning of this project, that this endeavor might have a profound effect on my life – it has. A week ago I went to another workshop on personal practice. This time, it was less warm and fuzzy – more practical. More practiced.

Devotion. Discipline.

These were the things she said that hit me most.

What do you really want your life to include.

Somehow at that moment something shifted for me.

For the past week I have been really strong at home. I have been writing practices ahead of time. I have missed one day and shortened another from going out at night – a few glasses of wine later I found myself needing sleep I couldn’t get up… that leads me to ask this question again – what do I want in my life… to what am I devoted, what does discipline mean. I know that I need to be social. I know that I need to relax with friends. So what does this mean – what do I need to miss or make up… Life feels crowded on those days. How do we find the time for the things that are most important?

Mostly this week I have been in a really good space, despite it being an externally difficult week..

But this morning I woke up uncomfortable. Edgy, sad. Creaky too. I decided to work on my hips. I decided to try to hold warrior. I overshot. I couldn’t do what I’d hoped – and I was annoyed at my own resistance.

My daughter woke up and came in. interrupting as I was closing the practice. I didn’t feel radiant. I still feel edgy. I still feel sad.

It’s disappointing. I’m disappointed. In myself. In the practice, I suppose. Where is that feeling of peace I left practice with so many times this week? Why didn't I look up, smile, ask her if she wanted to join me?

I’ve taken to reading Rumi as part of the morning – this morning a poem said, people cannot withstand the understanding of the darkness within people… something like that.

Sweet teacher is back – which is such a relief. She talked this week about the practice being practice for life…

How do I accept disappointment? What do I do with that moment? How do I ride out the sad, with the peace to accept the day?

Well, blueberry pancakes are a start. I burned them a little though...

Good Morning!

January 2, 2012

Last evening I went to a two hour yoga workshop aimed at marking the passage of the year. It was a relief – I had somehow frittered away the actual midnight passage being cranky at my children who, though too young, insisted on staying up. My last bad mommy moment of 2011.

I was amazed to look back at the year. What do you bring with you? she asked. What do you leave behind…

What is your intention for the New Year?

Courage.

I was amazed at the strength I found, as I looked backward. At the wisdom. At the growth.

I noticed another thing, too.

For the second day in a row I was in that room, filled to capacity. Two days in a row we were two inches apart from one another. People turned away…

Yesterday was much warmer – candle light and mantras ending in peace…

shanti, shanti, shanti…

But I missed Sweet Teacher even more, and noticed her lessons most through her absence.

When I started going to her class in September I hated the forced interaction with my neighbor. It felt invasive and forced and hard.

Strange, isn’t it, how hard it can be to acknowledge the person next to you. Don’t say Sorry when you touch someone, she says, say Good Morning.

In the two amazing days at the studio this weekend, neither beautiful brave teacher had us say hello to each other. Because it is rare, isn’t it – the encouragement of connection.

Good morning.

Some amazing people have written me this year because of this little project of mine. I have been grateful for the warmth. It has been far more personal a thing than I have published in years, and has forced me to let go of a lot of who I like to be in public… Thank you for reading. It feels strange to write that – this is, really, mostly internal ramblings of some small bit of what is going on with me one day... 

But I think I bumped into you by accident this morning. 

Good morning!