Sometimes I’m so tired when I unroll my mat, I can’t even imagine flowing through a vinyasa, let alone enduring an entire class.  But something magical happens during Surya Namaskar, sometime between the first Forward Bend and Upward Dog, that removes any of those pesky emotional or circumstantial obstacles.

Suddenly, caught in the current with no destination in sight, each moment takes on a potency and poetry all its own.  There’s a feeling of being submerged in an atmosphere of “anything’s possible” bliss that washes over me even as my limbs are quivering and giggles escape my conscious breathing. Then, before I can say “Namaste,” the class is over.

The observations and feelings that surface on the mat become accessible in life; as the breath deepens so does the living experience.  I’ve had many teachers who end class by reminding us that the feeling we’ve cultivated during our time on the mat is available to us anytime, any place.  They are absolutely right!  The longer and more frequently I practice, the more this truth is evident.

So at 42 years of age I am taking the plunge into a deeper study and understanding of this practice that has nourished me beyond measure.  This fall, I will be taking the Yoga Teacher Training (though it feels more like I’ll be embarking on a Yoga Student Training) and becoming more fully Yoga Baptized.  I still struggle with certain back bends and handstand looms somewhere in my future, but my present is beckoning me forth.   The asanas I cannot yet fully express will not hold me back any longer.

While the prospect brings up some fear (of the non-debilitating sort), it’s also pretty thrilling.  Like the fatigue that dissipates once on the mat, I’m fairly certain the fear will take the same turn as I immerse myself in the deeper Yoga waters.

It’s not a revelation that we live in a celebrity obsessed society.  Even the least interested among us have the occasional moment of curiosity when faced with an outrageous headline at grocery checkout, while channel surfing or just lingering on a fluffy news story.

So I guess it was no big surprise to notice this in the Yoga community.  I am not immune to it.  I would love to study with famous Yogis Seane Corn, Shiva Rea, John Friend and a list of Nationally recognized American Yoga Teachers.  There’s the celebrity mystique, yes, but there has to be more.  Curiosity.

What is it about them that has attracted the attention of the larger stage?  Are their talents for guiding a student toward his or her best potential clearer or better than the teachers who remain in national obscurity?  Does the secret lie in their manner of commucation–the way they connect with their students?  Are they the cream of the crop or skilled celebrities?  Do they know something others don’t?  Maybe it’s a kooky all-of-the-above-combination.  Regardless, they are on the path where they are, sharing their gifts beautifully, guiding others on their journeys down the same path.

I had a rare opportunity to go to a Rodney Yee class shortly after my first daughter was born.  I was nervous and elated and felt utterly out of my league. In addition to taking a closer look at my strengths and fears, I also noticed through what lens I viewed this experience in relation to other classes I’d taken.  Rodney Yee is a yoga superstar and I had the opportunity for him to notice & be frustrated by my Triangle Pose.  I have to admit it was pretty cool.

When I moved to the suburbs after nearly 17 years in Manhattan, I was convinced I was leaving the best of everything to settle for mediocrity.  While no suburb can compare to NYC when it comes to the availability of top quality goods and services, including top notch teachers, it was a mistake to close my mind to the possibility of being surprised.

I found a studio nestled on 12 glorious acres punctuated with livestock, a vegetable garden, pond, wide open spaces, wonderful people and deep-rooted history.  It is a magical portal for spiritual practice.  The owner, and one of my teachers, is a student of Shiva Rea.  She brings a bit of her renown to our smaller arena, and does so with her own brand of charm and humor.

Practicing with Rodney and a packed NYC studio full of eager Yogis was extremely satisfying and an experience I’ll always cherish.  But it wasn’t Rodney who clarified my inner picture of Triangle and helped me realize it more fully; it was a local suburban teacher whose name would mean little on the national yoga scene, but means the world to those of us who show up eagerly to her classes.  I’ve had the extraordinary pleasure to practice with many such teachers and Yogis, tucked away from the urban hustle.  I am grateful for life’s surprises.

On the mat, I cultivate the tools for living, but my children are my daily superstar teachers. And, I look forward to studying and practicing with many teachers along this path, some of whom I hope will the teachers’ teachers, all of whom will help to expand and deepen the experience on and off the mat.

Namaste!

I took my three daughters to a family Yoga class the other day. When we returned home, my 4 1/2 year old asked me why our teacher smiles all the time. Reluctant to speak for anyone other than myself, I felt safe that at least part of the answer would be that she’s happy.

“Why do you smile all the time?” she asked. While “all the time” is an overstatement, I answered her the most honest way I knew and that answer was: Because I’m happy.

The question that followed was: “Why are you happy?”

I paused to consider the answer. Why am I happy? Is there a cause for happiness? or is happiness a state of being that can be achieved by intention? Maybe it’s both. Or neither.

I imagined bits and pieces of my life, the ups and downs, and tried to identify the thread that connected them. Gratitude. It kept coming back to Gratitude.

It seems to me that Gratitude is the seed of happiness. Like its metaphor counterpart, Gratitude needs to be cultivated; watered so its roots may take hold to provide nourishment and deepen so it may continue to grow. Attention to Gratitude is the means of connecting to the people and life around you. And I’m not sure one can be happy without feeling connected to something.

Gratitude makes ordinary objects sacred, and daily activities fresh.

I read a book many years ago about the Greek God, Dionysus (Roman name, Bacchus). What I remember (and I can’t quote from it since it has long since disappeared from my shelf) is how it distinguished Happiness from Joy.

Happiness, the author suggested is fleeting, attached to circumstances that inspire it until the next set of circumstances present themselves and their coinciding emotion(s). Joy, on the other hand, could pervade and infuse any circumstances including those bereft of happiness.

This became clear to me the night Yitchak Rabin was killed. I was in a church on the Upper West Side that shared its walls with B’nai Jeshurun (a most special and inclusive community). More than two thousand people arrived to mourn the passing of this man of Peace; while the circumstances lent themselves to utter sadness, there was a pervasive sense of joy.

Happiness. Joy. This semantic distinction is an interesting one to ponder, but in the end one person’s Happiness is another’s Joy and someone else’s Joy may appear as Happiness.

When I started writing this, I took a break to do some necessary organizing & cleaning. I immediately came across a piece of paper containing a Zen proverb which said, “There is no way to happiness ~ Happiness is the way.”

And sometimes, the Peanuts just say it best.

From “You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown”

HAPPINESS IS FINDING A PENCIL.
PIZZA WITH SAUSAGE
TELLING THE TIME.
HAPPINESS IS LEARNING TO WHISTLE.
TYING YOUR SHOE FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME.

HAPPINESS IS PLAYING THE DRUM IN YOUR OWN SCHOOL BAND.
AND HAPPINESS IS WALKING HAND IN HAND.
HAPPINESS IS TWO KINDS OF ICE CREAM.
KNOWING A SECRET.
CLIMBING A TREE.
HAPPINESS IS FIVE DIFFERENT CRAYONS.
CATCHING A FIREFLY.
SETTING HIM FREE.

HAPPINESS IS BEING ALONE EVERY NOW AND THEN.
AND HAPPINESS IS COMING HOME AGAIN.
HAPPINESS IS MORNING AND EVENING,
DAY TIME AND NIGHT TIME TOO.
FOR HAPPINESS IS ANYONE AND ANYTHING AT ALL
THAT’S LOVED BY YOU.

HAPPINESS IS HAVING A SISTER.
SHARING A SANDWICH.
GETTING ALONG.
HAPPINESS IS SINGING TOGETHER WHEN DAY IS THROUGH,
AND HAPPINESS IS THOSE WHO SING WITH YOU.
HAPPINESS IS MORNING AND EVENING,
DAYTIME AND NIGHTTIME TOO.
FOR HAPPINESS IS ANYONE AND ANYTHING AT ALL
THAT’S LOVED BY YOU.

It starts with anticipation, turns into an experience and becomes a memory.

Some of those memories will be worthy of becoming rocking chair stories and more of them will move into the realm of the ordinary, owning a subtler sacredness.

My friend Jackie & I went to a David Newman Kirtan a few days ago and are both still finding nuggets of self along the path where we found ourselves occasionally lost.

He told us that a wave of love would be created and invited us to enjoy the ride. The wave, rich with love, swelled with the vibrations of many voices merging into one. What began with three “Oms” to unite our disparate tones, intentions & places on the path, crescendoed beyond individual experience.

I willingly lost myself in the surrounding space & sounds. The delight that comes from complete emersion is a total plunge into living; it ignites the senses and connects, through sound and people, to something larger than oneself.

One moment is a calm reflection of call & response chanting and the next is an absolute abandon to the dance. Thoughts dissipate as they rise to meet the cloud of thoughts and what is left is experience & connection.

This is the best way I can describe the happening that is Kirtan.

Ride your wave and lose yourself and see what you find.

“I do not like Green Eggs & Ham, I do not like them Sam I Am.” 1

Standing firm his ground, the unnamed recipient of Sam I Am’s offer of green eggs and ham (who I’ll now refer to as Maimas–Sam I Am, backwards) states definitively that he does not like “that Sam I Am” and further does not like Green Eggs and Ham.  His immediate responses seem reactionary, somehow attached to habitual preference patterns and not, as we learn later, to his current tastes.

Enter Sam I Am to offer numerous landscapes from which to drop this old attachment, only to be met by repetitive resistance.  Maimas begins this journey stuck in the mud of past and future, unable to climb out of it into the now.

Sam I Am, however, is a most persistent guide.  (According to an interview with T.K.V. Desikachar in, The Heart of Yoga ~ Developing a Personal Practice, “The true guru shows you the way.”  I guess, for the sake of this piece, Sam I Am must be considered a Guru.)

Slowly chipping away the exterior shell of habit with dizzying repetition, Sam I Am effectively shows Maimas the way.  Maimas, in an effort to get rid of Sam I am, relents and tries the green delicacies.  To his utter surprise, he delights in the experience and joyfully announces as much.

This story, in classic Seuss style, is a potent metaphor for many of us at different times and in different ways when we meet resistance in our lives.

As with many things, I was struck by various images relating to this story while on my mat.  Even as I was releasing these thoughts, emptying my mat-mind, I tucked them away for later, for now.

My investigation took me back to the beginning …

From the start, I knew something special was going on in rooms filled with, then predominantly, purple mats and I wanted to be part of it.

It was natural then, to live beginner’s mind.  I was a beginner in every sense of the word.  Every word, movement & breath tapped an inner reservoir of wonder and curiosity and eventually laughter and play.  New York City was my first Yoga playground, so it was no surprise that the classes were filled with dancers & yogis who were already padding down their Yoga paths.  This demographic magnified my beginner status, without judgement but with clarity.  I loved being where I was and as the lines of demarcation shifted, I happily followed while remaining comfortable (dare I say familiar) inside my beginner’s body.  In that way, I was unlike Maimas; but was a green as the Eggs & Ham.

Eleven years later, after years of onthematagain–offthematagain ebbs and flows, I’ve arrived at an extremely satisfying place in my practice.  Eager to keep my green mind & spirit present, I began going to a beginner’s class once a week, among weekly mixed level classes.  It actually kicked my butt and was very nourishing, but after a while I felt a bit held back, not feeling it was appropriate to go deeper yet feeling compelled to.  Circumstances around that class changed, making it easier to let it go.

The combination of deepening my understanding of various poses (physically and energetically) and the overall feeling of being a sprout in the forest of ancient trees, pops into my practice in various ways.  Positive.  Negative.  Indifferent.  Neutral.

With every experience, I drift farther from being a brand new beginner, making it essential to keep the tap of beginner’s mind flowing.  The challenge is not getting stuck wherever I am, and allow beginner’s mind to infuse each breath and step on the path regardless of advancement.  And, while more comfy on my mat and with my practice, I still feel very green.

There are varying hues of Green; the light, bright green of newness can mingle with the  darker hues of envy, creating a green all its own.  This collision contains valuable information.  I had an unexpected experience with this a few weeks ago when I found myself questioning my practice as it related to another’s.  This was strange for me, as I’ve always chosen to celebrate others’ talents and successes rather than compare them to my accomplishments.  It never made any sense that someone else’s success would in any way effect my own path, for better or worse.  It just feels better to feel good for others.  That’s why I was surprised when this dark green aspect of my ego made its way onto my mat.   I didn’t hold onto it, but the moment was potent enough for examination, which evolved into “Green Egos & Ham.”

My grandfather used to say that wherever you go there will always be someone who’s smarter than you and someone not as smart, someone cuter and someone not as cute, someone richer, taller, thinner, more advanced, better…and someone not.  That, he said, makes us all average.  This perspective is most liberating and follows us wherever we go.

As I’ve been able to incorporate a very regular practice into my schedule, I can feel my body and mind opening up and deepening with every Downward Dog.  My Green Ego reflects its naturally curious, playful state and the Ham in me revels in each pose with energetic abandon.  I will work effortlessly to honor the Ham that makes me laugh without allowing it to overpower the flavor of the tasty Green Eggs that keep things fresh.  Gotta keep that Ego Green!

“I do so like Green Eggs & Ham.  Thank you, Thank you Sam I Am!”2

When I graduated from high school, I thought I new everything.

When I graduated from college, I realized I knew nothing (or very little).

Now, I’m grateful to know how much more there is to know and that there will always be something to learn.

1 &2 :  Dr. Seuss, “Green Eggs & Ham”

My Family & Friends, Theatre School, Stage Productions, Grateful Dead Shows, Rainbow Gatherings, Shambhala/Meditation,Yoga,…and most recently, Kirtans.

What all of these experiences have in common is a strong sense of community; in many ways, intentional community.  People, connected by common interest, coming together to express an aspect of love.  When I string all the experiences together, I see a picture of my life in love.

The above is a potent progressive list of my journey in love.  Each experience shines its own light & casts its own shadows; has a flavor, rhythm and sensation of its own.  Reminiscing the path that brought me here, I smile & bow with quiet reflection and gratitude.

I just returned from a Kirtan at the Unitarian Universalist Church in Washington Crossing (with Yofiyah, Mirabai Ceiba & a beautiful Indian Dancer named Dhanya Salem).  It was a last minute choice, when my friend Joan called to see if I wanted to go.  I said yes.  It was an uplifting & entirely enchanting experience.  I’m beginning to think that “yes” is the starting point of a life in love.

When I was in theatre, I had stage fright; not a debilitating fear, just one that jolted me out of my carefully crafted comfort zone momentarily.  I knew that it would dissipate mere moments after stepping onto the stage, but in those moments when my heart beat was the rhythm of the moment, I felt alive.  Even when the fear disappeared, being that vulnerable and present in front of people reflected the feeling of falling in love.

In many of these places that I have come to call home over the course of my life, the line around my comfort zone is very thin, and I like it that way.  I have always gravitated to open communities that attract extremely diverse personalities in pursuit of authentic experience.  That can sometimes be uncomfortable, as both a participant and a witness.  But the big love bubbles and the rest falls away to reveal truth.

So, when I find myself in a situation where my heart starts to beat a little faster and the corners of my mouth turn up without effort, I open my eyes wide and say YES!

I am in love!

Batman had a utility belt which provided him with tools to cope with any compromising, sticky or life-threatening situation.  (For a more in-depth description of Batman’s ultimate crime-fighting tool, check out:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Batman’s_utility_belt .)   I wonder how many times have I looked to my waistband wishing for such a belt.  The occasions I might seek such a device are never as dire as the caped crusader’s, but a belt that would provide ease during challenging times seems delightful.

Rather than stocking my utility belt with an arsenal of crime-fighting weapons, mine would have to hold a variety of tools to combat more mundane instances when I’m inclined to things such as:  boredom, complacency, gossip, frustration and road rage among myriad other human conditions.

Riding my bike is one of the tools I would put in my personalized utility belt.  Feeling the asphalt, and all its own cracks & fissures, rolling under me as I make mindful effort to move forward, allows for everything else to melt away.  Instant and on-going perspective reveals itself with every revolution of the tires and tree that passes, struggling up and flying down hills and experiencing smooth & rough surfaces.  (I’ve heard from friends who like to run or do other physical activities that it is their way to decompress or find momentary peace of mind.)  These are great tools that nourish both body and soul; but in order to reap the benefits one must be actively engaged in the sport.  Exercise, whichever one or more calls to you, is a valuable tool to add to your belt to access when time & energy permit.

Today, while I was on my mat my mind wandered a couple of times.  Once in the beginning, when I was thinking of my high school friend whose four year old son is losing his 2+ year battle with cancer.  I dedicated my practice to him and his family, hoping in vain that a fraction of the peace I worked to cultivate would find its way to them.  His story is another tool I have tucked into my belt under the category of gratitude.  When I feel frustrated or put upon, I think of Ricky (a/k/a Superman) and perspective crashes on me in a cathartic wave of universal love.  Then I hug my loved ones a little tighter.  (If you’re on Facebook and would like to get to know Ricky, visit:  http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=110385445656312&ref=ts )  He will change your life.)

The other day I was feeling the effects of life on the “hamster wheel” with three small children and the daily tedious details that need to be met.  I’m not sure what the words were, but the voice was unmistakably one of my Yoga teacher’s.  Soothing, non-judgmental and abundantly compassionate, I allowed the memory of her voice to seep into my frame of mind and I relaxed.  So, I learned quite unexpectedly that the sound of a voice can be another cherished tool to tuck under that belt.  (Sound is sound; no wonder “OM,” the primordial sound and its intrinsic vibrations, is a perfect way to begin and end a practice.)

My Yoga practice has become an entire utility belt in itself.  Everything I described and everything I have yet to discover can fit into my Yoga belt.  The biggest pocket in this belt is breath, which is the origin of all the others.  Whether I’m on my mat or in my life in the world, I can breathe and be supported.  I have choices of how to navigate my life, in all of its remarkable and unremarkable moments, forsaking futility for utility.

I like to think that my utility belt will always be half full, leaving room to discover and integrate an endless supply of tools.

What would your utility belt hold?

If you ever want to know what it’s like to truly be in the moment, spend some time with masses of 4 year olds.  One might do the trick, but trust me, the more the merrier the moment.

The preschool where I send my kids is an amazing example of unconditional love and child advocacy.  So, when the four year olds had finished learning about the letter “Y” and the teacher asked me to come in and do some Yoga with them, how could I refuse?

My first thoughts were those of doubt.  Who am I to lead anyone in Yoga?  What could I possibly offer?  Will I be able to edit the practice to appeal to these kids, let alone inspire and illuminate them?  Then my mind quieted to offer a bit of reality and I smiled.  Inspire?  Illuminate?  Who was I kidding?  They wake up as geysers of energy, curious and eager; I was the one to be caught in the web of inspiration and bathed in light.

Once I said yes, it was out of my hands.  Sure I had a plan, one that included a cutsie introduction, three ShalOMs (which they all chanted with abandon), a celebration of the sun (to bring it out since it was a rainy day) and various kid-friendly story-based poses.  It never even occurred to me to do a child’s pose!

I fell out of the moment (or was so caught up in it, I don’t know which) that I introduced Sivasana before remembering that we hadn’t done our group Tree, which I was unwilling to let go.  So, back in the moment, we arose from our corpse pose to share in the full expression of swaying trees and increasingly distracted kids.

While elements of “the plan” were realized, it became more a set of guidelines than a plan; a true meditation in motion.  We ended with a “shalOM” that could have brought the roof down!

Whatever expectations I may have had going in were quickly reformed to meet those 17 four year olds where they were.  In fact,  I felt the need to move through the program much more quickly just to keep up with their pace and attention spans.  It didn’t seem like an option at the time, but I wonder what would have happened if I’d slowed down instead.

Like any community of people, there were those who dove right in eager to see what they may find and others who were guided more by their distractions than any set agenda.  Thankfully it was Yoga and not a summit on world peace.  I almost wished I could have observed the experience rather than lead it, to have a better view into their world of now-ness.

It all seemed to happen so fast, but I left feeling elated & energized.

Later that same day I had the great pleasure to read to my daughter’s first grade class of 21 kids.  The three year difference that separated these two groups of kids was huge.  Equally curious and present, the first graders had a more focussed, disciplined manner.   They sat respectfully quiet as I read two very different books.  Afterward, their teacher asked them which one they liked better & why.  Their answers were insightful and evidence that they had listened.  They engaged in a spirited conversation that tapped into an inner freedom as inspiring & enlightening as a tree-bending group of four year olds.

I named this piece “Wee Warriors” not only because I love alliteration, but to honor the warrior spirits that live vibrantly in their young selves.  I must say, after writing this, the word “wee” still fits their little bodies, but doesn’t come close to the massive warrior energy & intention that resides there.

The light in me humbly and lovingly honors the light in you!

Thank you for the gift of getting to play Yoga with you!

Namaste.

Drop.  Twist.  Fold.  Repeat.

The first three words are not nearly as important as the fourth and final word.  Repeat.  Whether it’s learning an instrument, language, trade, dance or washing your hair (wet. lather. rinse. repeat.), repeating not only creates the space for transformation, but provides an ongoing challenge for mindfulness.

What separates the repetition I mean from rote, is the presence of mind.  I recently had a discussion with someone debating the value of rote learning.  I was of the mind that rote has its place on the learning curve, but should be used with care.  I can still recite a Victor Hugo poem, in French, verbatim, having had to memorize it by rote in 10th grade French class.  But do I know what it means?  No.

It was early on in my practice that I learned the Surya Namaskara sequence, by sheer repetition, and could flow with some ease.  When mindfulness enters the sequence, the poses flow fresh with meaning and possibility for growth.

Practice may not always make perfect, but it certainly can take you to unexpected places and depths.  I have a teacher who often reminds us that there’s always somewhere else to go.

When my kids show interest in something and think that after one class they’ve mastered the skill, I pause, wondering how to explain the value and pure joy that can come from practice & repetition.  Like the skills they’re discovering, I must continue to practice patience in the repetition I must endure.

Reach for the sky.  Swan dive down.  Rise halfway up with a flat back.  Fold and root to the earth.  Bend knees and walk or jump back into High Plank.  Play with your Vinyasa starting with slo-mo Chatturanga, sweeping up to choice of Sphinx, Baby Cobra or Up Dog.  Curl over toes into a dazzling expression of Downward Dog.  Mix English with Sanskrit.

Repeat.

I am one of those people who others are surprised is a Soap Opera fan.

I’ve been watching General Hospital loyally for 30 years, making Port Charles my home away from home (in an alternate universe) with some time spent, here and there, in Pine Valley & Llanview.  Beautiful people living ordinary lives with outrageous obstacles, challenges and post-modern sensibilities, which allows for anything to happen at any time.

How on earth does this personal contradiction contribute to, reflect or in any way relate to Yoga?

At first glance, the characters and story-lines take on a hyper-real quality keeping them from any relatable qualities.  The characters that populate the fictitious cities and towns of everyday soap worlds, appear contorted, heightened versions of familiar people in our own lives; but over time, they become more like friends and family than cartoon characters.

The experience of seeing full expressions of certain mind-blowing, body-bending poses, conjures similar observations.  In the beginning years of my practice, when a teacher (or student) illustrated and illuminated any such poses, a giggle would invariably escape the notion that I’d ever relate to or move into anything near their full expressions.  But, over time (and with practice), these heightened shapes of familiar movements become more natural.  While full expression may still elude my practice, the baby steps to get there contain the magic of the journey, inching myself closer to physical clarity.

Some poses still seem a distance from my abilities, but no longer seem unrealizable or completely without a compass point.  Some, like the soap characters, become like friends and family, a place to call home.  Other, more advanced poses, become destinations to look forward to with great anticipation; they are the asana cliff-hangers that keep me coming back to find out what happens next.

So, when a soap storyline brings back a character, long dead by absolute means, the suspension of disbelief creates a magical landscape where nothing’s impossible.  When I roll out my mat and the teacher guides us to a flying crow pose or head stand in the middle of the room, it is my suspension of the same disbelief that makes anything possible.

Removing the thinking of obvious logic makes room for creativity, imagination and ultimately the freedom to express the impossible.

And the Daytime Emmy goes to…

Stay Tuned!