PEACE workshop series

i'm sooooo excited to lead my first intensive workshop series. i seriously cannot stop talking about my excitement. i think about things that i'll incorporate into each session nearly every day. i read things, i look up things, i meditate on things... it is possible that i'm obsessed. but in a good way!

i'd love to have anyone near sydney join! and, if you aren't near sydney, we'll feel you there in spirit.

Micromoving Meditations

This blog post is inspired by some journaling done after a meditation in Twee Merrigan's Fluid Power teacher training this weekend. One of those rare moments where my crazy mind shushed itself.

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expressions of my soul seeping out through my body: some twisting out, some seeping out, some exploding out.

i found myself slowing to almost a halt... and then my body would begin to move again; knowing where it was going without me deciding where to put it. the inner wisdom was present, and i didn't even need to try to pay attention to it, because i was in a state of being it.

my me was me. and i was me. and there was no effort.

while in that space, i didn't recognize that as what was happening. but as soon as i began to reflect back on it, i felt amazed, in awe, and infinitely lucky to have experienced those sensations--that being, if only for a short time.

there were points when my brain began to talk: to say "my arms are tired..." or something. but, then my arms would stop moving. without me deciding it. and i would be back in the me.

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Wanna do it? Wanna feel some peace? Pick a playlist of calming music that goes for the amount of time that you want to spend meditating--try ten minutes or so for the first time. Begin by sitting still in an easy cross-legged position. As you sit, begin to draw your attention to your breath, slowing the breathing and taking long, full breaths. Then, as you feel inspired, begin to move your torso--wiggling it, weaving it, whatever feels good. Spend a song or so only doing that. Then, as you feel ready, begin to add the arms to the mix--reaching, raising, rolling, or even relaxing. Do these micromovements throughout your set meditation time. Once your music ends, ease yourself to a lying position and release. If you feel a little floaty, bend your knees and put your feet on the floor, with knees pointing toward the ceiling and relaxing in toward each other, to help ground you. Spend a few minutes on the floor before easing yourself back up and back into your day.

Luck and love.

Raining, Pouring, and Being

In our society, we are faced with constant choices. Which is amazing! It is fantastic to be able to choose what you want, when you want it, how much you're willing to pay for it, and (if you live in Australia) how much you're willing to pay for shipping. However, constant choices can also feel overwhelming, and sometimes we default to a previous choice, for the ease and comfort of that choice, regardless of whether that is the appropriate decision for the given time.

Much like the constant choices we find all around us, we constantly need to choose how to experience our surroundings and ourselves. I find these choices to be much harder to make--mostly because I often forget to actively make these choices. I allow the Spring-default settings to take over. I might be late for a train I planned to take; I begin to run. Someone offer critiques on my work; I feel judged and inept. I miss a workout; I feel bad about my day. It starts to rain; I get cranky and look for shelter or an umbrella.

Those don't have to be the choices I make, though. Yoga teaches us that we can choose how to react to everything in our lives. On the mat, when I notice a strong stretching sensation, I breathe through it; I slow my breath, my mind, and focus on being in that moment. Off the mat reactions are much harder for me to consciously make, though.

I was running last weekend. It began to rain, first a little, and then suddenly much harder. I had no rain gear with me, and was only just getting started on my run. I felt the Spring-default settings kicking in as I thought: "I'll just go home, get in the car, drive to the gym, and run on a treadmill. I'll hate it. I'll be cranky. I probably won't even have enough time to run by the time I get there." ...but then I realized I could make another choice. I could choose to be in the rain. And so I did. I chose to feel the raindrops, to feel them on my skin and feel them soaking into my clothes. I felt the cool water pooling in my shoes, smiled at drips hanging from my eyelashes, and enjoyed the soft slaps of my hair whipping my neck and cheeks. Where I expected frustration, I was able to find joy in being present: nothing was so wrong with getting a little wet.

The fact that I chose to be present, and enjoy and experience the rain, was a difficult choice for me to make. But the fact that I made that choice changed the rest of my day. I was happy that I got to run and I was happy that I was able to enjoy the rain. That happiness spilled into the rest of the day and evening and I noticed (with some surprise) that I was able to go with the flow of unexpected plan changes, unexpected train delays, and unexpected restaurant choices quite easily.

Making conscious choices in our be-ing can be hard. We have to choose to create space for these choices. We have to allow for the option of overriding the default settings we've created.

Our choices of how to respond to our surroundings and ourselves may feel easy at times. And that's fine--it's good practice! Because when the next rainstorm comes, I might not have my umbrella, and I want to be ready.

Recovery

I'm in recovery from an eating disorder. And have been for a long time. Lots of people don't know, except when I do silly things like write an article to all the PSU fitness instructors, or post it in my blog's "about me" section, or even write a blog post about it. I don't like to talk about it because I don't want people to see me as "that girl with bulimia," or to be constantly concerned that I'm going to throw up the birthday cake they make me, or to analyze my every food choice and relate it back to my psychological state. It could be true that I'll be in a state of recovery forever; many people with an addiction say they'll never be completely free of their longing.

But I believe that I can completely heal. The reason I think I can heal is because I have yoga.

For years I've eaten carefully, but will then try to make up what I've deemed an over-indulgence with an extra hour of running or a day of diet soda and veggies. There is this lingering fear that, even on a non-binge, I may freak out about the number of calories consumed and want to purge, or, that I'll punish myself through another over-exhaustive workout. Living in a state of constant counting, calculating, and planning of food and exercise is exhausting. Literally.

Group, individual, and art therapy were all helpful in their own ways. But none of them gave me the peace of mind I've been able to find in yoga. Yoga has helped me connect to my body, and that connection is so important that I can't bear to go a day without it. The old me that started yoga did it for stress-relief as a college freshman, for exercise as a grad student, for self-betterment as a young adult, but finally I do yoga for me. And if I can't do asana practice on a certain day, I still set aside time to practice pranayama (breathing) and/or meditation.

The reason that I think I may be able to completely heal is because every day I do things I thought would never be possible for me. Last week, while on a yoga retreat/vacation in Bali, I only went running 3 times, each time less than an hour. True, I did other active things on vacation, and yes, I did asana practice each day, sometimes quite lengthy and intensive. But, for me, only about 2 hours of intense cardio in a week... that's crazy talk! I prefer to have 7-9 hours of intense cardio a week (which I am able to recognize as excessive).

The exercise is still a struggle. The eating is still a struggle. But the little improvements in the lovingkindness I show myself, the compassion I'm able to offer to myself and others, and the little achievements all add up. Every time I do something I once considered impossible, I feel the miracle in it.

I feel like my vacation behavior last week was a miracle. Usually, on vacation, with no time set aside for work, I would do more activity. But I didn't. And I only felt a tiny ache inside. I know people are supposed to have huge shifts during yoga retreats, and I thought my shift would be in my yoga. Turns out it was in my yoga, just not my asana practice.

I feel lucky at my miraculous experience. But, even more, I feel the hope and possibility of "complete" recovery. Of being fully present and mindful. Of union of my mind and body. Of yoga.

Past/Future Union

I heard a quote recently that went something like this: "Your body lives in the past, your mind lives in the future, and yoga joins your body and mind in the present." Except I think it was a little more beautifully put. The quote has echoed in my thoughts constantly over the past few days. I've returned to this quote over and over: when my knee pops as I'm walking; when my mind races to plan all I need to do before I go on vacation, I think of how true the quote really is.

It's a constant challenge for modern life to live in the present. As yoginis and yogis, we can find that fusion of body and mind on the mat. But where does that mindfulness go when we're off the mat? For me, it still seems to evaporate as fast as any moisture on a hot dry Australian summer day. How can we harness that mindfulness cultivated on the mat and express it in our daily lives? Practice, of course.

Little pieces of practice we can do anytime, anywhere: A moment of peace and breathing on the train on a stressful day; A stop for a freestyle free-standing yoga pose when a stretch is needed; A quiet thought or meditation in the office to bring the mind and body together.

I'm certainly not enlightened. I don't have all the answers. But as I practice mindfulness on and off the mat, I'm noticing more and more changes in how I react to things. I notice people who look uncomfortable in their skin, and I respond by sending them thoughts of compassion. I notice myself running for a train when I know there's another in a few minutes , and I respond by slowing down and offering compassion to myself. I notice learning in my yoga students, and I respond by offering joy and friendship out to the world.

And most crazily, last Friday, I drove an hour and a half to have a root canal, went through the pain of the root canal, had my car break down, waited for a rescue van, waited for a second van to come fix the car, paid several hundred dollars, got home several hours later than I thought... and I smiled and joked through the whole thing. Two repairmen that came to my rescue separately commented on how happy I seemed throughout disasters. And I realized they were right. I wasn't worried about the work I was missing out on doing, the yoga class I wouldn't make it to; I was accepting the situation, making the best of it, and being fully present in the place that I was in.

These instances of mindfulness and peace are not continuous. But the fact that I can even recognize these instances is proof of mindfulness in my life. Proof that didn't exist before. So, I offer my scientific mind this proof: practice, both on and off the mat, cultivates the ability to be mindful in my daily life.

And so I return to practicing my breath, my meditation, and the joining of my mind and my body.

Body/Breath over Mind

I'm a thinker. I've always been a thinker, which is probably why I spent gazillions of years in school. The phrase "mind over matter" resonates with me; I know I can do anything if I put my mind to it. And I feel I've proved it several times. But what happens when I'm in my yoga, and I need to have my mind take the back seat, allow my breath to take over, and let my body experience itself through my practice? Well, sometimes my mind gets in the way.

And so that has been one of my greatest challenges: listening to my body, feeling what is happening, experiencing it as it is, and being at peace with these things. I feel that I've made great strides over the past 10 months. I've been able to notice more when my mind is over-thinking. I've taken steps to be more present in everything I do. I've begun to try to live in the fullest version of myself, offering my most heartfelt self to my life and those I encounter.

But there are still times when my mind just won't shut up; when all I can do is listen to my mind rationalizing, explaining, and planning. Which is probably one of the reasons I've been so drawn to yoga: when I found the peace that I could experience in my breath, that's when I was really hooked; I had no trouble creating a regular practice and making more and more time for yoga. But sometimes, even in my practice, my mind keeps taking over.

Tonight I took a class with Kelly where she suggested that our bodies had way more wisdom than we knew (as she's finding through her pregnancy right now!); in fact, that our bodies had infinite wisdom. I internalized that thought and consciously tucked my mind in my back pocket for the class. I let my body take over, as my breath flowed through it. I experienced the class. Twice during the class I got nervous about a pose and began to lose it. But I was able to immediately return to my breath, feel my body, re-hide my mind, and go back to the practice.

My mind was so tucked away that I didn't even notice it was quiet until I got on the train after the class. I was sitting on the train, looking for my phone to call Billy and tell him I was on my way home, when my mind started working again. And I was like WOAH! What is going on? And then, I realized that I had been at peace. And it had even lasted 15-20 minutes after class. It had seemed so easy cheesy. Body over mind. Or, I suppose, breath over mind.

And so I go back to practicing. Trusting my body. Quieting my mind. Not so easy for a thinker, but I know it's possible. There's samadhi on the other side of that rainbow.

marathon meditations

i ran a marathon yesterday. i was feeling good, proud, happy, achieved, ...and a little stiff today. i talked to my sister this morning during our weekly skype yoga session about the race, and she told me that she feels like she runs a marathon everyday. she teaches preschool.

we all run marathons every day, don't we? whether it's working long hours on a project; racing against a deadline; or just feeling the pressure to achieve something that seems impossible. i practiced a million methods of positive thoughts while running the marathon, from "i can do anything!" to "my shoes are magic and have a special force that propel me forward!" to "if i finish this in under 4 hours, i never have to run another one!" and, of course, "i'm wearing my sister-superhero sash; i can just fly to the finish line!"

i talked to my sister about these things, and about a lovingkindness meditation, to offer that kindness back to herself and to help in her feelings of compassion and happiness. at the end of our practice this morning, we practiced a lovingkindness meditation from this month's Yoga Journal that says "friendliness toward those who are happy; compassion toward those who are not; equanimity toward all."

all day i thought about the meditation we shared, and tried to keep practicing it throughout my day. on the train on my way to teach yoga tonight, i began reflecting back on what got me through the race, and how i can use those same techniques in life.

i took these thoughts with me to the yoga class i taught tonight. i used the example of my sister's "marathon" and my own as the struggles we encounter every day to set an intention for mindfulness for the class: mindfulness we could use off the mat to combat stress, anxiety, and self-doubt. we began class by practicing mindfulness, and i offered gentle encouragement to return to these thoughts throughout class. amazingly, i saw my class learning and listening today. at one point, we were on our bellies resting after a reminder of mindfulness, and i offered the 45 students an opportunity to kick it up--to take an optional vinyasa if they were feeling it. not a soul moved. there was peace, rest, and beautiful stillness. i was in awe at the energy, focus, and mindfulness we had created during our practice.

at the end of class, i used the mindfulness meditation from Yoga Journal this month that focused on the stability of the individual through swirling thoughts: a mountain surrounded by clouds and storms. upon breathing in, we meditated on being the mountain; upon exhaling, we meditated on the stability we possessed. i felt the synchronicity and harmony of a class in tune with themselves and each other as we meditated and closed. it was beautiful!

on the way home from my yoga teaching tonight, i was posting about and reading all the nice wishes on my wall related to my marathon--heartwarming and truly an example of others showing "friendliness toward those who are happy." i felt blessed to have friends that can give such beautiful offerings. seeing this outpouring of "likes" and comments on my status updates set a great example for me.

my day full of reflections on marathons, meditation practice, experiencing beauty and accepting it from friends, ...and making it through a marathon of a day of my own... prove to me that marathons are constantly thrown at us. and that we can probably meditate our way through any of them.