Grounding Thru The Sit Bones

Eyes Wide Shut

2012-01-23T16:20:00.000-06:00

We did ardha chandrasana last week. Against the wall. Most of my students are older and the strength and balance needed to hold the pose in the center of the room take it off the menu for them. It’s such a great pose, that’s it’s a shame to eliminate it, so we do it against the wall and it becomes a release pose. Really, it does, you should try it.

Against the wall, it’s all the extension and expansion of Hand-to-Big-Toe--a lengthening, a stretch, a core/thigh engagement with a comforting presence at the back, except in Half-Moon you have a bit more of a gravity challenge, but not too much. Once every one gets past the “tipping-over” fear, it’s really quite nice.

People closed their eyes.

I love to close my eyes during a pose. To remove one more distraction and turn the focus inward. You have to really know where you stand when you close your eyes, because you lose all visual information that might assist balance. You have to depend on your sense of touch, maybe hearing, but sight is gone and the brain has to focus on the limited input to keep you in the pose. So you focus on the limited input and, as a result, your sense of the pose sharpens and you really feel it. And it starts to make more sense because you perceive the arrangement of your limbs from the inside, instead of just seeing what it looks like.

(Technically this is proprioception--a really interesting neural phenomenon in which the brain uses muscle and inner ear/balance information to determine the body’s position in space rather than sight--why you know your back arm is at shoulder height in Warrior II, without looking at it)

Emotionally, it feels like flying. As you remove one sense, the others intensify to fill the void...without the visual you float, without falling (once you get used to it). Anyway, I highly recommend it for Mountain, Tree, Headstand, Down Dog, Triangle. You need to feel safe and supported, confident in your skill, but the rewards are lovely.

“See” you at the wall...

Apples and Oranges

2012-01-10T14:43:00.001-06:00

One of the things you learn right away in a class on experimental design, is not too include too many variables. If you want to test the effects of a certain treatment, better to test on organisms as similar as possible so you can be sure you’re measuring the effects of your treatment, rather than something else.

Apple trees may respond differently than orange trees to a certain fertilizer, because they are reacting to soil conditions, temperature, and insects as well as the fertilizer. Maybe one tree just grows more slowly than the other. So, when you want to discuss how much the trees are affected by fertilizer application, you also have to acknowledge all these other differences. Your experiment doesn’t tell you much, except that apple trees are different than oranges trees and we already knew that...didn’t we? Best to pick one type of tree in the same field with similar light and water and soil conditions and then look at fertilizer effects (and it could be compost, so don’t worry about this being an inorganic example).

Judging by revelations of the last week, including Yoga Dawg’s link of “average” yoga teachers’ salaries (and the vastly superior correction), and It’s All Yoga Baby’s discussions (here, and here) of the NYT article about yoga injuries (apparently, hour-long inversions are bad for your neck!), the notion of difference and variability is often forgotten when the topic is yoga. I’m not sure you can average anything or use blanket statements for yoga, but that doesn’t seem to stop the critics.

Skeletons are hooked up differently, joints have different amounts of mobility, digestive systems process fats differently, teachers have different hourly schedules, Iyengar is different that Bikram. Surprise! If you want to measure anything, discuss anything for comparison, how about controlling for a few of those variables, so your conclusion actually has meaning.

Of course if you do yoga consciously and participate in the yoga community, you know most of this stuff is pretty silly anyway. Generalizations make better press, and clarifying details make headlines and search terms so complicated and boring. It wouldn’t be half as compelling to discuss how a well-trained, carefully-taught class can be so beneficial (or not, studies seem to show that you have to believe yoga will help you, for it to actually help you). Or to show a break-down of teacher salaries based on region, or place of employment, or class size. Can’t sell as much advertisement.

So that’s my take. Yeah, people sometimes get hurt doing yoga. Sometimes they don’t. What’s really interesting is why...and if you’re comparing apples and oranges your answer is going to be a lot broader and have a lot less meaning than a look at what’s going on between those two Pink Ladies. Narrow the focus, people!

Honoring the Sleeve-Passions

2012-01-02T12:06:00.000-06:00

I once went to a talk by members of the Pan-Asian Repertory Theatre. One of the actresses was recounting her career path from med school to the stage, noting her parents’ disappointment and eventual acceptance of her choices. “I think you know what you really want to be when you grow up, when you are a little kid. At that time in your life, you wear your passions on your sleeve,” she said.

I thought that was a brilliant observation, and I often consider it when making my next move. And my moves have been sort of disparate, but they still follow a me-specific logic that, I hope, stays true to those sleeve-passions: journalism, art history, costume design, yoga, more journalism, and, now, biology (in preparation for some sort of teaching/writing).

My mom gave me a priceless gift for Christmas. It is a neatly-compiled volume of much of the materials of my young writing life, all self-illustrated, self-published, and--as I’m about to relate--self-distributed. About 1974-78 is represented and all in print from, as this was about two decades before the Internet was introduced. Three decades before GTTSB went online.

The starring entry from among the Mothers’ Day cards, Narnia-esque stories, and haiku collections is Brenda’s Bugle, a two-page, monthly newsletter I typed and sent out to various friends and relatives from 1977-78. The articles range from interviews with my family, crafts fairs at my elementary school, book reviews, to ice cream drink recipes, comics (many lifted straight out of “Wee Pals” and “Archie”), and an obituary for my sister’s gerbil. I even invited this sister to contribute towards the end of BB’s run...I think because I was running out of ideas to fill the last page.

Of course, the content is hilarious (R.I.P. Sausage, the gerbil), but what kills me is the writer’s voice of the ten-year-old me. I don’t really sound all that different in tone and I’m really curious what I was modelling myself after:

Brenda’s Bugle Vol. 2, No. 5 (March, 1978)

Ah, ink (and White-Out)-stained wretch that I was...yet I hear some of the quality of GTTSB’s conversational tone in these early entries.

Reading these back issues of BB inspired a resolution to return to the blog and do some none-academic writing this semester. It’s hard to find the time for anything, but I’ve missed the exercise of working a thought out in print...and, of course, the exchange. The chance to interact with readers and other writers was tamped down this fall and I’ve missed it (even the editor of BB had a survey every once and awhile...my paternal grandfather “loved” the articles, but felt the puzzles were “not for me”; my great aunt “read it from start to finish--enjoying everything in it”).

Maybe this week of reflection and looking forward is a good time to revisit “sleeve-passions.” Was the young you onto something that the current you has forgotten or ignored? Or maybe the young you was the inspiration for your present endeavors? Either way, it makes a good story and I’d love to hear it...

Brenda’s Bugle Vol. 2, No. 7 (May, 1978)

More things yoga ruined...

2011-09-16T14:17:00.000-05:00

It was fun to think about things that yoga ruined. You all came up with a good list and now, with some continued thought, I've come up with some more...

Long To-Do Lists I've tried to get all digital with my lists but, instead, I still keep a piece of paper with tasks organized by due date and a little square drawn by each, so I can cross it off when I finish. Instant gratification when that X marks a chore. And, it helps me clear my mind so a lot of random obligations aren't tumbling around getting in the way of Cell Biology (yes, the fall semester has started with its demanding science classes hogging up all the room in my brain).

However, it has come to my attention that making a daily list that is achievable is a far preferable action to just listinglistinglisting everything. I don't need any additional help to feel overwhelmed, so the list stays short. A wise friend (and mother of three) said, "What needs to get done will get done." Why deny the lovely sense of accomplishment that comes from a completed list?

Rage Now, I'll admit, sometimes its fun to get mad and make up clever arguments or insults in defense of whatever you're mad about. I suspect it burns more calories than feeling good about finishing your to-do list, but that burn comes at a price. Sleeplessness, distraction, tension, gritted teeth (and the attendant dental bill). Please. Surely there is a better use of time than getting all lathered up about fictional match-ups?

I think it's why I tend to avoid the Yoga Wars these days; how can you argue with some one about their beliefs (and that's fundamentally what all that is about--what everyone believes their yoga to be)? There's no mind-changing when it come to faith, at least not from an external force, and it usually degenerates into name-calling.

There's a place for anger if it leads to constructive action but, again, it's not the act of anger itself that is useful. Feeling superior gets you nothing. I'm trying to take the deep breath, put the lady down, and let some one else do the fulminating. I need my shut eye.

Wasted Energy In parenthood, endurance sports, daily life, there's no place for wasting energy. Some things are compelling to engage in--like over-swinging your arms when you run or trying to predict the future--but do they actually contribute? Does the excess worry, annoyance, confrontation, or drawn attention actually help, or is it just a distraction from the really important stuff--a good meal, an interesting conversation, playing soccer with a kid. 8 hours of sleep (probably, biologically, the most important of all). Sort of like balancing chemistry equations (Monday's quiz), you want the two sides of the reaction to be even; don't load the one side up with molecules of rage if you're not getting a useful solution on the other side.

(Okay, the last metaphor was a bit of a stretch. But you get my drift.)

I still engage in mental sparring and get agitated when it seems like there's too much to do. But I'm trying to get better about pulling back and looking at the big picture. Or not looking at the picture at all. Maybe it's age, but I feel like I'm starting to get it...the "life is too short" kind of thing. Unfortunately, yoga hasn't completely ruined these things for me, but it certainly has made them less appealing...

A Not Un-familiar Metaphor

2011-08-09T09:28:00.004-05:00

I've been Xtreme gardening lately. After about three years of benign neglect (courtesy of little boys who need close supervision outside), I've been able to turn my attention back to massive prairie weeds and runaway ferns. Cathartic, if exhausting.

The neglect was not completely without engagement. I've been watching--sun patterns, aggressiveness of certain perennials, wet and dry spots. So even though my garden is a bit scraggly, I feel pretty aware of what's going on--what and what not to introduce. Some of this knowledge just comes from waiting and observation, some from internet research, some from talking to other gardeners. I'm not a Master by any means, but I know what I know.

I am struck by the similarity of gardening to teaching. No, I'm not going to draw a parallel between nurturing and mentoring or guiding immature seedlings or creating something beautiful from dirt. I've been teaching about as long as I've been seriously gardening (that'd be seven years) and, though I still feel pretty immature myself, I'm starting to get a sense of what makes me better at each discipline.

That would be experience. Not more trainings, more classes, more workshops, or more instruction. Sure, all that helps and gives you more information to work with (see the discussion at Linda S's house). But what I think I really pushes a teacher/gardener to the next level is actually doing the work itself. Having to be there in the moment and make choices on the fly, instead of endlessly discussing the options.

And then there's the peripheral knowledge that just comes with life experience--things picked up along the way that are relevant eventually. In fact, that's what I love about using the blog to figure out my yoga; often these connections don't become obvious until I'm thinking about them while writing. Which eventually leads back to the classroom. Or the dirt (so that's why you prune lilacs early).

Of course, useful life experience is impossible to quantify. How do you make an exit test? What does it certify? You certainly can't design a new revenue stream around it. But I guess, to me, it is the most useful instruction of all. It's why I prefer older teachers, especially in yoga (prejudiced, I know, but that's what works for me). Experience gives you a framework to understand all the subsequent training and makes all the information that much more relevant.

Get out. Dig in. Feet first. Just Do. Then you can step back and think, but first, Get Dirty.

Thunderstorms and Leeches

2011-07-29T09:46:00.003-05:00

There's nothing like a week in the North Woods (Boundary Waters in Minnesota, to be exact) to give one a nice sense of perspective. A sense of the Sublime, to get all art historical about it--meaning that witnessing the majesty of nature (or a worthy reproduction) can give one a sense of awe or a sort of pleasurable terror at the beauty and power of it all.

In other words, sitting through a nighttime thunderstorm in a tent. It didn't help that the island across from ours had been burnt to a cinder from a lightening strike in the spring. There I lay, listening to the thunder roll and echo across the neighboring lakes like flopping sheets of metal while the tent lit up with green-white flashes, wondering where you go if a forest fire starts around you--into the lake? into a canoe on the lake? how much time do you have, anyway?

And at the same time these survivalist thoughts rattled around, I sort of enjoyed the immensity of the sound. Unmuffled and continuous. It was a feeling of awe or pleasurable terror, if you will.

In the morning, with the sun glistening on everything, I marveled at the loveliness. None of it had anything to do with me and was not arranged for my enjoyment, but it gave me a nice feeling of connectedness. Just another little mammal who made it through the storm. Later that day I had to pluck a leech off the toe of another little mammal--Son #2--an activity that also required a bit of detachment so as not to have an unseemly gross-out, or take the blood-sucking personally.

Yoga in the forest, right? This is why I like camping and geology and astronomy--because it reminds that me most stuff is pretty fleeting and not all that important. That I'm at the mercy of forces far bigger and more powerful than I (...realizing that, in this case, I am very lucky that I can marvel at these wonders, rather that suffer their results).

Terrible and Sublime. Beauty and Awe. Namaste and, well, Namaste.

Things that Yoga has Ruined...

2011-07-13T20:30:00.002-05:00

Let me start by saying there are a lot of things that yoga has NOT ruined: yoga has not ruined my ability to focus and calm myself down; it has not ruined my sense of well-being or self-esteem (can't say that about yoga advertising, but never mind); it has not ruined my flexibility or strength; it has not ruined my sense of humor or love of irony. But there are several things that it has completely fouled up:

1. My need to keep the feet covered. Get 'em out of the shoes, get 'em out of the shoes! I realized this during class last month, when I had a new student with flat feet who wanted to keep her sneakers on because bare footed was painful with her fallen arches. I was so distracted by her shoes (not aesthetically), because I couldn't conceive of a well-balanced Trikonasana in shoes. She was fine--and has continued coming to class--but it made me feel so unsteady that I realized that I'm undone by the idea of something coming between my foot and the mat. (Take that toesox)

2. My interest in racquet sports. A few years ago I spent a month or two meeting a friend for introductory racquetball. It was fun, but I soon realized how frustrating it was to only be working one arm. One shoulder was warm and glowing, but the other seemed limp and useless. Same thing after soccer or catch with son #1. One leg/arm felt strong and flush, the other--underutilized. I'm so used to doing everything on both sides, that activities giving one limb preference over the other seem cock-eyed. (Not that I'm going to stop backyard sports, but I'm working on my left-hand throw which, surprisingly, is much better when playing football).

3. Heels. Yes, they're sexy and very appropriate with some outfits, but when I try on a pair of high heels and go tottering down the hall I feel like a 13-yr-old getting ready for her first dance. I can't handle all that weight on the balls of my feet and the tightness in my calves. My toes resent getting squished and my knees knock. A mess, to be sure. So I've adopted the kitten heel, which is an attractive silhouette and doesn't throw my alignment off. (When I actually get dressed up, which is probably two times a month, max)

4. Slouching. It's not that I had such rotten posture before yoga, but it ruined draping myself across my favorite chair and watching a movie. I'm super-aware of unsupported parts of the body (lower back, knees) and now have a whole routine with pillows and rolled blankets to support the drape. Very conscious of shoulders when knitting in front of the boob tube--which is probably a good thing, but makes that activity something of a production. Plus, it annoys cats who are trying to snooze on the aforementioned blankets. Popcorn is often spilled. Spouse is crowded.

5. Ignoring discomfort. Sometimes it's easier to pretend you don't notice something that's bugging you, but I can't do that anymore. Why does that shoulder hurt? Where exactly is the pinch? How does that relate to arm position/posture/angle of head/etc? Do I need to do homework in a different chair (see #4)? Can I take an Advil, or is that just delaying the inevitable? What pose helps? Heat or ice? I've never done well with discomfort and now it becomes the source of a great investigation--discoveries filed away for later pedagogical use. It would save time to just grit my teeth and bear it.

And so on. I try to keep my fussing to myself and not force these issues on others (altho it takes great restraint to walk past poorly-executed stretches at the Y or ignore ill-fitting sandals). Some folks just haven't had the pleasure of being ruined by Yoga...

Has it messed you up?

Reflections from an Old-Timer

2011-07-06T21:12:00.006-05:00

A. Durer, St. Jerome in his Study, 1514

...well, not that old. But the combo of Carole's question last week about long-time blogging, coupled with my 44th birthday on the 3rd (officially in my mid-forties, whatever that means), I've been thinking about what I've learned over the last five years of GTTSB.

It seems there are two levels of change: macro and micro. Macro is the level of sophistication in the process-both in the software and the bloggers themselves. Vlogs, audio, video, beautiful graphics, bold templates; everything looks and runs so professionally (remember how long it use to take to just get one dinky photo uploaded?). And the authors: marketing savvy, cross-platforming, multiple technologies. Tweet, tweet. People are much more skilled at drawing attention to their work and themselves (for good and bad). Reading blogs is much more of an event, and I like all the interaction across these platforms and the humor and wit that bubbles up to the surface. Writing them seems to be a lot more work, tho, to stay abreast of all the technology.

The micro is how I've changed. It's funny to look back at the oldest posts--so earnest and helpful. More didactic than personal. I thought this would be more of an infomation clearinghouse: sequences, explanations of poses, lists of resources...a place to refer students who were asking for suggestions. I got a chuckle out of a post from November '06, when I speculated about the possibility of yogis all over the world communicating on the internet. Who knew?

The first few months I pined away for comments from non-relatives (altho I was very grateful for relatives who were actually reading), and finally figured out how to hook up with statcounter to measure hits and see where people were coming from. I began writing for Yoga Journal.com (Thank, Erica!), which was a wonderful opportunity to take a closer look at some topics I'd written about and also interview various notables about said topics. This also increased readership and invited more commenting.

In March of '07, I started to include more links on the page (good ole' Yoga Dawg gets a mention), which encouraged me to interact more with other bloggers. Son #2 was born in August of '07, and this seems to have given me a more personal focus. Maybe I was tired of "teacher voice" and wanted to start using my own "writer voice."

By '08 the topics sound more like what we're all used to: teacher training, hot bods vs blissed-out bods, what's authentic, etc etc. I can't go back to my "old" blog rolls, but it would be interesting to see who was on the scene at that point and how that affected the conversation (Y. Dawg, Nadine Falwell and Linda S. all commented, so that crowd is very familiar). In February of '09, I joined facebook...it seems wild that social networking wasn't really on the scene until three years after I started. I project all the back and forth onto earlier memories.

By the middle of '09 the conversations were just that--chatty, sharing experiences and ideas (I cracked up re-reading a discussion of some one's "problem student" who always ended up with an erection during savasana. Gracious!) By October of '09, we were venturing into more controversial territory and many of the same conundrums (conundra?) that face us today; more people were responding on their own blogs and it was nice to read carefully thought-out arguments. By 2010, it was all-out, perhaps culminating in l'affaire toesox.

So I like this new vein that we seem to be in--the evolution of yoga and how it serves us on an individual basis. Maybe we can finally put the "maybe you just need to do more yoga" suggestion for those who question hierarchies and tradition out to pasture. Waaay out. Do away with angry, ungrammatical commenting. We are thinkers who write (obviously) so of course we want to explore these ideals out loud. I'm all for it. Svadhyaya is its own niyama, after all, and even the ancients encouraged some self-reflection.

That's what I see from my perch of a half decade. But enough about me...what do the rest of you oldies have to say? What do you think is the biggest difference? The best improvement? Worst development? What's next? What have you learned during your tenure on the blog rolls?

Yogito Ergo Sum...

2011-07-01T12:17:00.003-05:00

I like this. I like this very much.

As I emerge from my post-semester malaise (after a false start in May), having lost all my mo to math and science classes, I would like to give a giant shout out to my ever thinking, ever provocative Yogging (new moniker?) Catalysts: Carole, Roseanne, and Bob W. Carole, of course, laid it out here and Roseanne blew back into the blogosphere here, and this all made me feel like I ought to step up and get back on the feed. It seems like a new energy is building and I'm really looking forward to their panel on yoga blogging in August at the Yoga Festival Toronto (transcripts? video feed? a crumb for your fans?).

During my state of blog-ennui, I missed the five-year anniversary of GTTSB. Dang, half a decade of this. And, truly, I can't imagine where my practice or teaching would be without it. My writing is totally part of my routine (until last month) and all the svadhyaya it engenders completely informs the rest of my yoga.

This public--if you will--svadhyaya is what keeps me tuned into the online community: I'm not as interested in the discussion of yoga itself, as much as I am fascinated by how each individual writer processes the lessons of yoga through his/her own experience. Maybe it's the art historian in me, but I want to read how a creative person's back story informs the present story. What do you bring to the practice that is different from everyone else? How do you express that difference? Yoga through the political science/burlesque/prison workshop/curvy/ex-teacher/new teacher/tail-wagging lens.

And I can't emphasize enough how much I love good writing. And humor.

So, as Roseanne sez, here we are on the cutting edge. Awesome. Writing about a yoga of service and engaged living. Thrilling.

I can't wait to see what the summer holds....

Recuperation

2011-05-18T13:09:00.005-05:00

Well, I think I've finally decompressed enough from the spring semester to reenter polite society. Funny how you can teach yoga for years, practice for decades and still be laid low by the double-whammy of mental stress and over-scheduling. Am I just not listening to myself, or is this kind of thing inevitable when expectations are high and you want to do well?

As April, with its requisite tests and final projects and papers, rolled around, most perspective was lost. Sleep was interrupted by whirring thoughts, exercise fell to the wayside, and I started eating more carbs. Everything that I know I'm not supposed to do, but there it was. I could see the effects in my mood and ability to think clearly (and skin--acne, ack!). It wasn't until two of the three classes were complete that the knots started to loosen.

Lesson for next semester? Maybe the secret is in the scheduling I do control...perhaps it's time to do the rooster thing and rise every morning at 5 to do my work, when I'm still fresh and ready to crow. Only one cup of coffee a day. At least one Down Dog a day. Bedtime at 9:30.

Don't get me wrong, it's been exhilarating as well as exhausting. Learning all new things is really energizing and I suppose that's where the drive to do well comes from--I'd like verification that I am learning and comprehending, even when that verification is as superficial as a grade. But it's fun to think and it's fun to think about something different and that--more any caffeinated beverage--has kept me going through the blur of not-enough sleep and advanced math.

So now, it is time to embrace the summer, when my primary responsibility is applying sunscreen and keeping fresh iced tea in the fridge. (*sound effect of clinking ice cubes and sloshing liquid pouring into a tall glass*)

Aaaahhhh.

Mano-a-mano (?) with the Inner Critic

2011-04-03T20:35:00.004-05:00

Do we all agree (sort of) that yoga is working with your body rather than against it? At least in this day and age (I'm not sure you can call keeping your arm raised for a couple of years working with, but maybe that's just me). Are we trying to make peace with our bodies and quiet the monkey-mind, or are we trying to discipline the soft tissue?

Erica had a nice post about not de-toxing last week, and it got me to thinking about the physical and mental gymnastics we run ourselves through in the pursuit of a yogic ideal. I'll bet most regular practitioners have some awareness (or perhaps Keen Awareness) of the constant juggling act between pushing yourself and not letting ego take over, but what about our students who aren't so tuned into these subtleties (or when you see yourself loosing the ego battle--"if only I could drop-back into a back bend!")?

Let me start by saying I'm constantly juggling (arm wrestling) the Inner Critic in yoga and almost everything else...so I get it. But I'm always a little lost when I see students struggle with the need to do a pose perfectly or, sometimes, even do the pose at all. I try to frame up my class with lots of modifications and opt-outs for people who don't feel up to a pose or aren't ready. I usually let them at least set-up for a pose, even if I'm pretty sure they won't be able to complete it, and then quietly show them what comes next or make a suggestion for something else to try.

The class is all skill-levels and all levels of experience, so asana-ability is all over the place. Which, for me, is fine. It's a opportunity for the long-time yogis to refine and the newbies to try something new or work on being okay with a modification (usually the far-more difficult skill). But what about the regulars who don't have the flexibility or strength for a particular pose, yet attempt--with great effort--to do said pose every time it comes up in the sequence, even if they've been guided to modify or substitute the last time around?

Is this just my teacher-ego getting annoyed that I'm not being listened to? Should I back off and let them try---they've signed a liability waiver, after all? I don't want to scold, but I don't want to stand idly by if some one could hurt him/herself (or the person on the next mat).

What do you do--either to calm the over-doer or, even, to get yourself out of striver-mode? Is this something you can teach or is it knowledge that has to be acquired on your own?

I'm ready for some imparted wisdom...

Prescription against Proscription

2011-03-22T09:41:00.004-05:00

Continuing with the theme of how we learn...what's the role of the teacher, the role of the student. I think I'd like to see those boundaries get a bit more mixed up. I don't think the person in front of the room is all-knowing nor should we expect that of him/her--teachers are human beings, just like everyone else, with a bit more experience in a specific area.

I chafe against rigid heirarchies. I think they're stupid and are designed to protect power more than anything else. They are certainly not in the best interest of people at the bottom of the heirarchy, despite what the people at the top say. But, I'm not an anarchist, either. I think plenty of things need to happen in a certain order to function well and I think some rules are very useful. Maybe it's the rigid that I have a problem with.

I think it is very brave to acknowledge ambiguity. It requires a sense of security and centered-ness that is tricky to achieve, tricky to maintain. But, once you are okay with it, the world gets a whole lot more interesting. There are a lot of nooks and crannies to discover once you can sit with uncertainty.

What does this have to do with the teacher-student relationship? Well, again, not a big fan of heirarchy. I want my teachers to be knowledgeable and have a deep understanding of the subject at hand. But I appreciate a teacher who knows there is always more to learn and encourages his/her students to go deeper on their own. Some one who knows rules are made to be broken and that the answer is often "maybe. The best discoveries are usually made by some one who doesn't know any better and doesn't accept the boundaries set by experts. Gets out of the box.

Maybe what I'm saying is that the true guru is inside you. A good teacher helps you discover that, but the realization is your own.

Learn to sit with uncertainty. Do not follow me, I may not lead. (Maybe the other true guru is 70s posters)

Calculus-gita

2011-03-16T14:29:00.003-05:00

More on the confluence of yoga and mathematics from my calculus professor:

"My image of you (all) is infinitely good...it doesn't matter what you subtract, it is still good. Since it is infinite, you can subtract 10,000, or whatever, from it and it is still infinitely good. That is what infinite means."

How's that for ego-less teaching?

How I Spent my Vacation...

2011-03-11T11:57:00.004-06:00

Spring Break. So I broke a little, but E and A made sure I didn't take it too easy. Ah, the life of a non-traditional student.

One thing I did do, was work on my Education project: a 10-hr. observation of an educational setting. I am fascinated by project-based learning and how it is used to create an entire curriculum in a classroom where the students make most of the choices about what they learn. It's not as loosey-goosey as it sounds, and there's a whole rubric set up to help students select projects and define the way they are investigated. There's a charter school in Beloit, that is part of the public school system but is entirely project-based and I spent Monday seeing how it all works.

It was so interesting to watch the kids and think about my own prejudices about how school should run. What was remarkable was how engaged the students were and how sophisticated their projects--and their descriptions of these projects--were. Everyone one I sat down with could pull up research they'd used (not just wikipedia) and could describe how they were turning this research into a final project--short story, 1/4" scale model, song, concert. For the quantifiers in the audience, the test scores are the same or a bit higher than the kids in the regular middle and high school (partially due to all the reading) and almost all graduates go on to college. So why not let the kids call the shots--within reason?

There seem to be some weak areas (math, science), but on the whole I couldn't really see how this form of learning would be less effective than a teacher-centered, lecture-based approach. And I could see how it would be a lot more appealing.

So, re. yoga. It seems like we're stuck in a very teacher-based form of instruction, and I'm not sure that such a good thing either. Very traditional. Very susceptible to ego trips and misinformation.

Of course, you have to learn how and probably some why at first. A sensible framework to organize the information is good, too. But the endless celebration of this guru and that superstar, and this brand and that patented technique gets awfully far from the whole point of this practice, which is to unite within oneself. Isn't it?

One thing an advisor (not "teacher") at the charter school told me, was that kids who want to be told what to do and simply perform to get a grade never last very long at the school. They can't handle the freedom and the responsibility. Which is fine, some people can't. But I wonder if that's the case with so much of the yoga teaching in the West--people want some one to boss them around and grade their asana. Anyone who finds that model confining and paternalistic is seen as suspect--all this "us vs them" that seems to be such a desired dichotomy to establish.

Carol H. keeps writing about Yoga 2.0 and I think it has potential to move us away from this more traditional way of thinking about instruction. I don't really mean that a yoga class will become project-based, but maybe in terms of the discipline becoming less dependent on master teachers and all that. Stop grading (or *sigh* awarding olympic medals) and start investigating.

I dunno, is that too radical?

...surf's up!

Alone/Together in the classroom

2011-02-24T17:10:00.003-06:00

I've been thinking about classroom community. Do we learn better when we know who we are learning with? Is a solitary pursuit more focused? Is it better to feel a part of a group or to be an individual in a bunch of individuals?

I have it all ways this semester. In my Ed class, we spent a whole day learning each others' names and interests. In Bio we work in pairs, so I know the students to my left and right. In Calc we all sit facing forwards and just casually converse before class...if even. In my once-a-month yoga class I don't know anybody and just come and go with a few words to my teacher.

And it's all good. I hate a forced community--I'd just as soon keep to myself. However, when I know everyone's name and the class includes a lot of discussion, I do feel more invested in the group. Is one better than the other--I think it depends, on what the subject is, how you are learning it, what the desired outcome is (is that an expectation?).

As a teacher, I try to learn everyone's name as soon as possible. I don't call on people in yoga classes, but if I can murmur an instruction using the person's name, I think its effect is more immediate. And whether there is talking or not, I want people to feel like I am keeping track of them--whether for adjustment purposes, safety, or inclusion. What's the point of taking a yoga class from a teacher if s/he isn't aware of each student (we've discussed this before, teaching vs demonstrating, remember)?

For me, I like a mix of alone and together in my yoga. I like the energy of a room full of people and the post-class vibe of everyone calm, relaxed, and happy. I hate partner work and I don't want to touch other students (when I'm a student, myself). I'm not really interested in conversation. It's a completely different experience than practicing at home, but it is still very solitary.

Alone or together. Where do you stand (sit, invert, twist)?

Bumpy ride

2011-02-16T12:01:00.006-06:00

The landscape continues to to change. Last week Linda Sama shuttered her Yoga Journey, joining another well-respected, provocative blog favorite it's all yoga, baby in the gone-but-not-forgotten category. It's getting lonely here in Old Timer Land. Both authors have very logical reasons for moving on...but I'm sad to see them go, and have missed their opinions during the discussions of 2011 (which, so far, sound a lot like the discussions of 2010/2009/2008/etc).

The departure of these dear friends and thoughtful minds from the conversation (at least in blog world), made me think about my own motives for continuing on with GTTSB. It certainly isn't a cash cow and does take up valuable time; the main reason, more than anything other, is that it has become a familiar habit that I can't imagine breaking. For me, this is like a yoga practice--I use it to smooth the lumps and bumps of daily living. Focus the mind and settle the thoughts.

In a sense, it is almost a journal, but one written for an audience. So, I must to use proper grammar and spelling and need to make sense in my ramblings. This is my written pranayama; if I am thinking hysterical thoughts--angry and unfocused--I have to center myself and become rational and reasonable. Not necessarily right, but at least I have to make sense. It's an exercise in making connections between all the varied elements of my life (yoking, doncha know) and forming a world view that is thoughtful and fair.

I'm flattered and a bit incredulous that I actually have an audience. In a way, blogging is very self-indulgent, so I am ever so grateful for all the connections I have made along the way and the voices I keep in my mind as I write (who might chuckle, who will recognize this picture, who will see themselves in my example).

I do feel there is starting to be a shift in focus and topic among the yoga bloggers, so it is fun to watch the scenery unfold: curvy yoga, recovering (from) yoga, saucy yoga, yoga intellectuals. I guess that's the privilege of senior status (so to speak), having been around for awhile I get to see how the new crowd reads the tea leaves.

You all rock. Blog archives rock. I'm glad to be one of you. Keep your seat belts on...

Why do we do?

2011-02-09T15:07:00.004-06:00

I'm still stuck on expectations. I really like my calculus' teachers declaration that, "I have no expectations. If I have expectations, I cannot teach you." It seems very wise that, as a teacher, you practice non-attachment to results. If the teaching is driven by wanting to see a desired result from your students, the whole enterprise moves away from learning to just getting something. That, to me, isn't good motivation.

But is there good motivation? As students and teachers (and parents and mentors) is that something we want to cultivate in certain situations, or should that be something that comes from within? Should the desire to learn be the individual's alone, or are there external influences that are good and healthy?

Probably, a little of both. I think the learning that is held the deepest comes from within. You may start to do something for external reasons, but the reason it sticks with you--and you with it--is because that something resonates and the activity moves from chore to pleasure (or habit?). But maybe the push or encouragement or rule some one else imposes is what you need to get started.

I think about sending my boys to school; while they're young, they'd just as soon hang out with a roomful of 6-yr-olds than stay home with me, but if it was framed as something they have to do, it might give them pause. But, that doesn't matter, they don't really have a choice, because of their age. Internal or external? Maybe by the time they're teenagers, the acquisition of knowledge and experience will have its own attraction and going to school is just part of the routine. (I don't doubt for a minute that there won't be plenty of groaning and foot-dragging, but that's all part of the teenage performance)

And maybe that's the way it is with yoga, too. Some one suggests it will improve your flexibility or strength, or maybe you have to do something low impact until an injury heals. I hope it isn't just to get rid of bra fat. But, whatever gets them in the room, I can tell when new students get hooked. The first few classes, they are usually a bit tentative--looking at everyone else, overdoing a pose, confusing right and left. But, the ones who stay move out of that place of insecurity pretty quickly. You can see their expressions shift and how quickly they come to stillness during the opening meditation. It's just a matter of days before they come up after class and ask where is the best place to get their own mats. I love that and I don't really think that has a whole lot to do with me as a teacher, but how they absorb the subject and make it their own. Internal or external?

You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make him drink. If you build it, they will come. Never try to teach a pig to sing; it wastes your time and it annoys the pig. This topic isn't new, but it's what I've been thinking about.

Would you like to think about it, too?

The Periphery of Comprehension

2011-02-04T12:48:00.004-06:00

For much of my life, I was a person who pursued things that I was already good at. All my education and career choices utilized skills that I had a natural talent for...if I wasn't good at it, it wasn't worth my consideration. I suspect this isn't a particularly remarkable trait...we usually like the things we are good at and are good at the things we like.

[Are you flexible because you do yoga, or do you do yoga because your are flexible?]

However, this latest batch of schooling (teaching certification in biology) does not draw as heavily my strengths. Or at least my strengths, as I've defined them. So it's very interesting to hover in this place between understanding and confusion, ease of effort and hard work. I kinda like it.

This whole project is very meta (one "t") in that I keep switching back and forth from being a student of the subject to imagining teaching it, so when I do get stuck, my mind vacillates between getting annoyed at the difficulty and appreciating the learning value of having to concentrate on something. In a way, it feels very akin to yoga and its work on quieting the fluctuations of the mind.

I suspect,(and I've said it before) if you can handle the insecurity of not knowing for sure (which is really all life is about, anyway, right?), it's a good place to be. Having to think, but not being validated with the right answer.

And then, when you do figure out the answer, or at least come to terms with the question, that can be its own reward.

But what do I know, anyway....

The Noblest Profession...IMHO

2011-01-27T17:07:00.000-06:00

In all the latest folderol surrounding yoga rebels, management teams, talent agency synergy, and bra fat, I wonder...

Are we still talking about teaching yoga?

To me, teaching is a very intimate experience. Two people come together over a period of time with the understanding that information will be shared, understood, processed and applied. One half of the pair will facilitate the learning and the other will absorb. Both are affected by the interaction and both emerge with a deeper sense of the material. The key to this definition--in my mind--is over a period of time.

Learning does not happen in an afternoon or a weekend. It may start in a day, but it is an ongoing process. It's important for students to have the continued support and attention of their teachers as this process unfolds. Not constant attention, but students should feel like help is available and that their teachers can guide them on their way.

Think back to your most valuable learning experiences. How much contact time did you get with that teacher? Were you just a body in a sea of freshman during a huge Psychology lecture? Was it during a weekend team-building exercise for work? I doubt it. What we remember as our education highlights involves a close connection to the teacher who helped make it happen--coaching during the school play by the drama teacher, yearbook work nights with the journalism teacher, dissertation advice from a major professor, career guidance from a mentor at work.

So how does this relate to the aforementioned dust-up? I get so weary hearing about expensive yoga retreats, massive yoga workshops, yoga stars jetting back and forth to this or that studio, because I wonder just how much teaching is going on. Inspiring, informing, showing and demonstrating, yes...but a week after the workshop, when you can finally follow the sequence but don't understand the logic behind it, who do you turn to? Or if you remember the pose wrong, but keep doing it and hurt yourself? Is there anyway to assess what is actually learned?

Maybe we need a second category for these kinds of learning experiences--yoga demonstrations, yoga performances, yoga lectures? Some one is showing and some one is watching or doing, but the close connection never happens and there is no follow-up. These experiences are valuable--obviously we value them more, performers make a whole lot more money than teachers--but I don't think a lot of teaching, as I've defined it, happens.

So there it is. What bothers me is equating success with how many demonstrations you do a year, or how many people you "reach" through books and endorsements. Yoga instruction as a revenue generator. All of that has its place (well, I'm not sure about the endorsements), but I wish we did more than just pay lip service to the teaching end.

Not everyone can teach. Not everyone can energize a ballroom full of people. There is a place for both, but they are not the same thing, nor should they be. Being able to do one, does not guarantee being able to do the other. They are separate and distinct experiences.

...In My Humble Opinion.

Y!

2011-01-25T13:01:00.003-06:00

I was bidden by one of my biology prof.s (and yoga student) to watch my calculus professor closely; students always rave about him, but aren't able to say why he is such a good teacher. She wants me to tell her what it is about his methodology that is so compelling, what are his secrets.

I'm not sure I would have made the connection as quickly, if he didn't look so much like a younger version of Krishnamacharya with a handlebar moustache. However, this fellow teaches calculus as if it were yoga--more raja than asana--but still, the association was revelatory. The class was perfectly silent, as we listened in rapt, albeit nervous, attention. I heard most of the yamas and niyamas in his introductory lecture--ahimsa, satya, svadhyaya, aparigraha, santosa, tapas--without them being named as such.

The simile is not so far-fetched, when you think about it. Both yoga and calculus are non-verbal languages, with rules about how to practice and not practice. Both require you to clear your mind, focus on the present and avoid distracting thoughts to get the greatest benefit. Both require non-attachment, so that you don't cling to expectations or obsessions and just let the pre-existing truths reveal themselves as you do the work.

He is old-school. He requested we not bring calculators to class, but just pencils, paper and our books. No fancy props required for him.

I put a big star next to one comment he made, because it still kind of blows my mind in its application to teaching yoga: "I have no expectations of you. If I have expectations, I can't teach you."

(Can you imagine the implications of that comment to all the yoga teachers out there with agendas and products to sell?)

At the end of the first day, he looked serenely around the room and said, "I look at all of you and I don't see one person I don't like. Whether you understand mathematics or not, I still like you. Whether you like mathematics or not, I still like you. But, I hope you like mathematics, because you are taking this class. See you next time."

...sounded like Namaste, to me.

Re-conceived notion

2011-01-17T17:47:00.008-06:00

Joseph Cornell , Untitled (The Hotel Eden), c. 1945, Construction

Nothing thrills me more than a creative re-interpretation of something. M aybe it's just the greenie in me, but re-cycled, re-presented, re-purposed anything--done with intelligence and wit--makes me swoon. I love to see the mind at play, especially as manifested in an object. I never ceased to be amazed by what people will come up with, and how a creative person will rise to the challenge of making something brand new from stuff that already exists. Collages, mash-ups, assemblages, ready-mades...oh, be still my heart.
So I was really intrigued by a reference in last week's Home section in the NYTimes. A Berlin artist has turned an old factory into a living space/gallery (also an interesting re-use of a building), and often hosts art events at her home. Including--get this--an artist whose medium IS YOGA! I spent quite a lot of time searching for said artist to see what s/he had come up with...but without any luck (anyone know who this artist might be?).

An artist whose medium is yoga. Not an artist who uses yoga as subject matter, but whose form of expression is yoga itself. How does that come about? What do see when you look at this art? Surely it's more than just some sort of dance using poses, right? Maybe it's a piece that doesn't even reference asana. What could it be--I'm so curious.

And so energized. How exciting to use this thing that we've all come to see as a privileged practice, intended for good mental and spiritual health, as a source . Like I said, I love a good re-interpretation, and using yoga like a paintbrush or pencil or sculpting medium kind of blows my mind.

Something to incorporate into Yoga 2.0? Something that could inform our usual practice or teaching methods? I wish I knew what the piece or performance actually was--but it's an interesting exercise to try and imagine it...

Uni-tasking

2011-01-11T15:40:00.000-06:00

In one week, it all starts again. School--calculus, statistics, Education for a Democratic Society--a full load for the newly christened full-time student. Good Lord.

But I have a strategy, that I was able to implement on a gradual basis in the fall. I call it, "Two Trips, Bren," after my father's admonition when I was younger and would try to carry every dish off the table to the kitchen at once. So you loose a dish every once and awhile, fair trade for getting done quicker. Except you're out a dish and some one is glaring disapprovingly. Two trips, Bren, two trips.

Perhaps the metaphor can carry into daily life. There is a time for multi-tasking and there is time to uni-task. And, actually, I think it's when you are the busiest that it's best to uni-task. Better do something carefully, with full attention and presence, than to be half-assed about it. The glass that shatters could be something really important.

I practice it with my physical pursuits--running, biking, swimming (as if you could do anything else...the beauty of the sport), asana. Mentally, it's my biggest challenge. Trying to stay focused on a single thing, or merely two things, is not my strong suit...that monkey-mind, you know. I work on it during yoga class and with pranayama, but the day-to-day implementation needs work.

So, let's add "two trips" to "never say never." It will be a year (semester?) of being present and open to opportunities. A time for math and a time for Legos, a time for making dinner and a time for reading. Keeping all plates whole and and considering new crockery.

I hope.

Never say Never

2011-01-02T15:29:00.005-06:00

From From the Mouths of Babes File: the 6-yr-old and I sat assembling an Egyptian temple (oh, the complexity of today's Legos), while the 3-yr-old amused himself with the little figures that came with the set. I missed the rest of the conversation, but I caught one Egyptologist's sage advice for his companion, "Never say never."

Where do you suppose he picked that up? I don't think there's any kids' version of 007 floating around (altho there might be some money to be made on that), so it's a mystery to me. We had a good laugh at this pint-size philosopher's wisdom and continued constructing Anubis.

New Year's Eve rolled around with its requisite bubbly and Latvian bacon dumplings (in my parents' house, that is), and the conversation turned to resolutions and upcoming events. Taking heed of Dr. Legoman's words, I resolved to make 2011 the year of Never Say Never. I was being glib (those last 10 lbs. have resolved to stick with me anyway), but, on closer consideration, I think it's a pretty good choice.

For starters, we puny mortals don't have the power to declare Never. Who knows what's going to happen next and it might just be something grand. Or, at least, an opportunity that's worth consideration, even if one isn't predisposed to it. I can think of a few bridges I thought I was over, but find myself crossing again...math and off-site yoga, anyone?

Maybe it comes with age, but I think declaring Never seems like a particularly difficult attitude to uphold--making my resolution an easy one to keep. There's no point in deciding about what might or might not happen; you have to wait and see what does develop, and then deal with that. Aparigraha, for you yoga types. Best to be open to the unexpected and prepare to be surprised (if that isn't too much of an oxymoron).

Here's to 2011 in all its shiny newness. I hope yours is full of delightful surprises and manageable challenges...you *never* know what will happen!

Beating a Dead Horse...

2010-12-22T13:26:00.002-06:00

...cuz I'm nerdly that way, I wanted to draw your attention to a study released earlier this month. A group of marketing prof.s writing in the Journal for Consumer Research, observed that looking at an advertisement of a beauty or fashion product caused female undergraduates to have a negative view of themselves afterwards. However, looking at a picture of makeup or high-heeled shoes outside of the context of an ad did not affect the viewers' self-esteem. They suggest that the fact that the item is featured in an ad may be a message in itself--this picture is to remind you that you should buy this product because of your lack of smooth skin, thick lashes, etc.

This study didn't consider ads featuring the human body, but it isn't much of a stretch to consider the implications when looking at an image of an impossibly thin and flexible body doing, say, a difficult arm balance. Especially in the context of selling something. Those that argue that this kind of imagery is empowering and uplifting may want to think again.

I'm just sayin'...

The Man with the Child in his Eyes

2010-12-15T16:51:00.003-06:00

My Goodness, it's almost been a month since last I wrote. I guess that's what happens when many final projects and final finals converge. Still, the last thing got handed in yesterday, so here I am. Whew.

Last week, I decided to mix it up a bit in class. Usually we work our way up to a pose, moving through a variety of preparations, so the final asana comes easily and with grace (for the most part). On Thursday night, I switched the order, so we moved from Sun Salutes into standing poses right away, and then came to the floor for forward bends, etc. It was a nice change, and we were so chill by the time savasana rolled around, the room was completely silent for 10 minutes. No rustling, adjusting or shifting...just release.

When we finally came up and opened our eyes from namaste I was struck, in particular, by how much one of my students looked like his 5-yr-old daughter. Startlingly so . And I got to thinking, I wonder if we all have a moment at the end of class when a shadow of our young selves passes across our faces . Brows soft, jaws released, cheeks plump from lying down, awareness in the present moment. Yoga as Time Machine.

And there might be something to that. A NYT article a couple weeks back describe the achievements of a 91-yr-old Canadian, Olga Kotelko, who holds 23 Masters Records in track-and-field events. Exercise physiologists are studying her closely to see what it is about her body that allows her to continue to exercise with such intensity. More and more evidence demonstrates that regular exercise into one's 70s and 80s can have a significant effect on cellular health (the mitochondria, to be specific)(Question #3 on the Human Bio exam) and slow the inevitable deterioration of the muscles and joints. These are all studies on aerobic exercise, but I wouldn't be surprised if the same thing was learned about yoga.

See what you see after your next class. Watch your face, and others' when you finish. Then go home and look at your baby book or or class pictures. Freaky.

*cue Dr. Who theme music*

Yoga 2.0

2010-11-19T12:11:00.005-06:00

The revolution may be blog-ivized. Each month brings a new set of revelations/discussions/confrontations on the interwebs about the state of yoga, and it is fascinating. Commodification, teacher training, and, now, what the ancients were really saying (or not). Carole H. has given the matter a lot of thought (Fakirs and Oprah-fication); Susan M. converses with various scholars (Mark Singleton and David Gordon White) about yogis, Pantanjali, the sutras, and the scene in India B.C.E; Jill Miller weighs in on gaiam.com. The gals at Recovering Yogi have no patience for any of it. Good stuff. Check it out, report back.

I remember reading an article in Yoga Journal awhile back about the history of yoga, which pointed out that most of the poses we do are only about 150 yrs. old. Still being a bit new to the literature, I found that rather surprising, but also very comforting. Okay, my reluctance to chant and expound on the niyamas wasn't completely out of line...most of my practice was fairly removed from the more mystical elements of yoga. And definitely my teaching (as I've said).

I felt unsure about my mastery of the texts, how I didn't really understand a lot of them and didn't have the proper framework to consider their relationship to what I thought was yoga. Scholars spend their whole careers studying this information, how could I possibly measure up. Now, the scholars are providing useful explanations and maybe it's the gurus who are a bit confused.

Remember, yoga is not a religion (and if you forget, reread Charlotte Bell's post). The ancient texts were very organic and definitely not set in stone. Much of the tradition was oral. No one has a direct line on Pantanjali's purpose for writing the sutras or how it relates to our practice of yoga today. There is no Truth that only adherents are privy to. As with much of human endeavor, it's all a part of the messy political and social agendas of the times--then and now.

Of course I'm not saying yoga is just asana. Or that anyone is off the hook for knowing the eight limbs or having a meditation practice. Or that anything can be yoga. But I love that it feels like (post) modern yoga about to be the next, big wiki-project. What do we keep? What no longer makes sense? Who are the false prophets, the sacred cows who no longer enthrall? Who is going to represent?

This latest round of discussion seems more thoughtful and erudite (only one commenter suggested Jill needed to do more yoga)--or maybe we've just lost the crowd who googles "naked yoga."

Anyway, there's a lot to consider, and I'm sure we're only just starting. But still, I kind of feel like we're at the cusp of something new, don't you?

The revolution will not make you look five pounds thinner...

Knowing and/or Not Knowing

2010-11-05T11:48:00.008-05:00

I am not a religious person. At least not in the sense that I attend a service regularly, or follow any specific texts, or can verbalize how my world is controlled by something greater than me. I have strong beliefs about a variety of things and my own explanation for how "it" all works, but I keep that to myself. I think religion and spirituality are such intensely personal systems, that I don't want to talk about them or, frankly, hear about them. I'm glad people believe--I probably don't believe the same thing--but if it makes them act in a kind and considerate manner, I'm all for it.

Charlotte Bell wrote a beautiful post (and had lovely responses to the comments) at elephant journal last week about yoga evangelism, that I found very inspiring--both in how I think about yoga, but also how I teach it. It sort of fits in with my analogy of yoga as a language--many different dialects, same grammar. One isn't better than the other (I exclude goofy hybrids that seem to be mostly about monetizing the practice); certain types resonate more than others, depending on the practitioner. But, as Bell notes, once you've been bitten by the yoga bug (drunk the kool-aid?), it's very hard not to proselytize. To be Born Again and want everyone else to be saved as well.

I certainly can relate to the urge to convert. And I wish most people would at least try yoga once, willingly, but I keep that to myself.

Since I don't want to be preached at, I find myself drawn to low-key classes, without a lot of extraneous discussion. More action and contemplation, and less talk. I can chose to study with a Master, or read a text, but when I go to my usual class I just want Hatha. Maybe Pranayama, but I don't really need to hear about the other limbs. I almost feel like those are my own responsibility to deal with, by myself, at a time when I'm not distracted by other people or activities. It can all come back to inform my practice, but just quietly in my head, not my ears.

So, that's how I teach. I may touch on other topics, but very little and rarely. I don't really feel qualified to teach yoga philosophy, and I think those are things best explored alone or, at least, in a different atmosphere than a hatha class. I think the physical work brings you to a place where you are more open to the philosophy and it makes sense, but I think the student needs to take it from there. I can give suggestions, but I'm not ready to lead. And I'm not sure I want to--back to the whole intensely personal thing.

Am I still teaching yoga? I think so. I see my students start to change and hear them talk about ways of thinking, that indicate something else is going on beyond increased flexibility. Maybe they don't have the vocabulary to describe it yogically, but I'm pretty sure they Know.

So when I say Namaste, I mean it, but I'm not going to elaborate, either...

But can it validate my parking ticket?

2010-10-28T14:52:00.006-05:00

Not too long ago, I was trying to cheer up a friend about a professional set back he'd experienced. I jokingly suggested he take an "external validation" class--and then realized my Freudian slip; I'd meant to say Education class. But I wasn't really wrong. I've noticed marked differences in the way the class is run and how performance is evaluated in both my Ed. and Science classes, and it's very interesting.

The Ed. class tends to be more nurturing: we discuss and respond a lot and, when mistakes are pointed out, it's usually as part of a larger, positive comment. The Science class is a refreshing change from those back in the dark ages of lecture, lecture, lecture (now it's lots of doing, not much sitting), but there is regular assessment and you know exactly where you stand point-wise (i.e. exams, quizzes, assignments). So it can be externally validating, if you are doing well, but not so much if you forgot to do the reading.

The education class is an advanced class, so naturally there is more synthesis and discussion going on than the Intro class. But I think both approaches have their benefits; however, like everything (say, yoga snark, for example), it takes a light hand. I think it's important for students to feel safe to be wrong; I think it's important that students--eventually--get their information correct. I think different viewpoints are a crucial part of seeing the big picture; I think that some people confuse opinion with fact, or want their opinion to be considered fact, despite proof to the contrary.

Both approaches work for me. It seems like they should be contradictory, but I find the combination kind of soothing. I can enjoy the energy of debate (albeit very gentle and supportive) in one; I enjoy feeling like I'm laying groundwork in the other. I don't mind loosey-goosey part of the time, but the Type A/Big Sister/Striver in me likes to have a number in hand.

And, as we continue to talk about how to train yoga teachers, I see the need for both in a YTT syllabus (obviously, we don't need a lot of facts and hard assessment in a regular yoga class for practitioners). You have to understand (maybe there is a better word) yoga from both a personal and a physical perspective. These are the metaphysical benefits and this is the muscle that needs to be open for a Down Dog to happen. This is the way you might feel during pranayama and this is a Sanskrit name for Extended Triangle. One type of information is easy to present, one isn't.

With a really well-crafted YTT program, both would happen at the same time. As with any good class, a teacher can encourage and allow students room to experiment, but also correct mistakes and get the misdirected back on the right path. You should have a good feeling about what (how) you are learning, but you need structure. How to insure that? Probably a system of assessment that includes both written elements and observation by peer teachers. A guarantee that the teacher trainers have been trained to teach (for public school education, you are trained by education professors, not your colleagues). A set of standards that should be met--altho they can always be expanded on.

And, I suppose, if you're really paying attention to your yoga practice, you can eventually dispense with the need for external validation, all together. But for most of us mere mortals, that's an assignment we're still working on...

AAUGH...

2010-10-21T14:26:00.004-05:00

...Group Projects! *yelled with a frustrated roar, like Charlie Brown**

I can't stand group projects. I'll bet this animosity can be used as a pop "psychological test" to assess my self-esteem/ my impatience/ my competitiveness/ my ability to work well with others. I hated them as an undergraduate and, now back in school, I am completely reminded of why they drive me nuts. They're right up there with partner work in yoga class (there's the yoga tie-in).

I can totally see the pedagogical value of both: students learn to cooperate, they can to do more work than they would alone, the teacher can see them in both leader and follower mode, there aren't as many final projects to grade (or asana to oversee). Check with me in a couple of years, and maybe I'll be won over.

But, for now, they make me feel at the mercy of other people's work habits. And hog-tied to their issues with deadlines. I get it, this is what working with young people is like, but my old brain cells don't bounce back from a lack of sleep like theirs do. I can't think about pig dissection at 6am when trying to proofread a final draft before printing. And I certainly don't have patience for paper jams at that hour.

I like working with other people. I like sharing ideas and debating. But then I like to hole up with my books, paper, and computer and digest all of it by myself. I like the energy of a group class and seeing a teacher's take on a pose or series. But then I just want to do it alone, in my own space on my mat.

Selfish? Individualistic? Just a grump? There are plenty of group projects in my future (why, there's a lab report next week), so I'm taking any attitude-adjustment you folks can pass out.

How do you get through a project or partner work with a smile...or at least a sense of well-being? What am I missing?

Art. Teaching. Nature. Nurture.

2010-10-12T07:33:00.004-05:00

Back in the old days, we used to argue, my costume design colleagues and I. Can you teach creativity? Can you teach some one to be artistic? We were learning all sorts of skills in grad school--draping, millinery, drawing, conducting fittings, sweet-talking actors; but it seemed some talents that makes one a Master of Fine Arts were to be picked up by osmosis--taste, a sense of proportion, successful color combining, communicating character through clothing.

Some of us "got it" (or, maybe we already had it) and some of us didn't, but I'm not sure the fault was with our education. Maybe there are some things that can't be taught...

I wonder if this isn't the same thing with teaching, itself. I often think of the teachers that have most inspired me and the qualities they possess--it seems to boil down to their "energy," whatever that is. Are they engaged with their students? In the present moment? Not married to the lesson plan? Can roll with the energy of the room? Passionate? Funny?

Of course you can learn subject matter and classroom management. You can learn how to structure class time and explain the important information. But can you learn how to convey a sense of calm authority and compassion, of dedication and deep interest? Some of it just comes with experience but, I think, some of it is innate. Either you have it or you don't.

Presumably, most people who go into teaching do it because they love it (it certainly can't be for the money). Of course, it's a way to support a more esoteric area of interest--probably the case with a lot of college professors and artists--but, to stick with it, you have to find something compelling about the profession.

So, if some one thinks, "I want to teach," is that enough? Can they really learn to be effective? Affective? To inspire students? To transcend the subject matter? What qualities do you need to truly wear the mantle of "teacher" and can some one else give you that information? Or are you born with it...

I have my opinions, but I'd love to hear yours--all you teachers and students out there.

I Can Stand the Rain (but Ann Peebles is still awesome)...

2010-09-28T14:11:00.003-05:00

Ah, perspective. We can always use more, right? The Big Picture. Don't Sweat the Small Stuff. Yoga for Cynics had a couple of lovely posts last week from the thin air above the tree line about how geology clears the mind, and they inspired me this week. Yoga, mountains, ocean, parenthood, death--the Big Things help you deal with the little things. I'd like to add to the list: Weather.

A couple of times this month, I've had to grin and bear it in less-than-ideal conditions. It's been very freeing. I participated in a triathlon three weeks ago in the rain (partially pouring, partially misting), which is not my first choice for two hours of heavy exertion. But that's sort of the beauty of an outdoor race--you do your thing no matter what is coming down on your head (except, of course, lightening). Once you accept that you are just one small person being pounded by water from the heavens, rather than running for shelter or warmth, it's sort of interesting.

It's the same for snow or heat or wind. When you stop fretting about discomfort or inconvenience, it's kind of fun. And obviously you can't do anything about it, so there's no point in getting worked up about it. It gives you perspective.

Which is why I love yoga outside. We did it last weekend by the river. The wind topples your Vrksasana; the ground is too bumpy for a graceful Parsvakonasana; you have to squint while you salute the sun. You are forced out of your patterns and have to adapt--as a result, you get to see a lot things in a new light. And you get fall color. Of course, I'm not advocating anything crazy or dangerous, but, in past Februaries, I've had a lovely, blissful 15 minutes doing Supta Baddha Konasana in the snow.

As the Midwest marches resolutely towards winter, this attitude change is invaluable. When the going gets rough, take yourself outside: get rained on, blown at, soak up the sun. Don't let the little people get you down...but do Bundle Up!

[GTTSB Redux: Nicole, at All Things Healing, has asked to republish some old posts on their site. I figured, why not, let some dear friends see the light again...)

Oversight, Undersight...Who's Watching?

2010-09-21T10:26:00.006-05:00

I was bidden by the ever-watchful Roseanne at it's all yoga baby, to think about yoga teacher training standards, so I am. I had hoped her post would generate more discussion--I guess it can't all be naked yoginis--but stayed tuned for her follow-up. I'm sure it will be full of interesting things to think about.

So, My Two Cents.

What strikes me about most of the yoga teacher trainings floating around, both completely legitimate and less so, is the limited oversight. I am steeped in the culture of educating (high school) educators, right now, and much of the discussion revolves around setting standards and then making sure they are reached. How all this evaluation happens, of course, is always a source of contention, but--on the whole--teachers are expected to meet certain standards, to teach specific information, and to make sure their students are competent and capable upon graduation.

With profit-driven YTTs, I wonder how much quality teaching can be assured and produced. If the justification for running a training program is to keep a studio afloat, that seems like a rather tenuous base for instruction. That's not to say there aren't a lot of good YTTs out there, but who would know? There's no system of evaluation for these programs, no qualified review board to make sure the Yoga Alliance standards are actually met, no continuing assessment of teachers once they have graduated. Well, I should say, no generally-recognized system.

It's a bit like herding cats--many traditions have their own methods of evaluation and don't see the need for external review. Maybe that's enough for students familiar with that tradition and seeking those kinds of teachers. But for the general public, the numbers don't really mean anything because the YA-approved programs are basically self-reporting. They can say they are training capable teachers, because they've filled out the paperwork and paid their dues.

I'm not saying the Alliance standards, themselves, are lacking. Actually, I think they're quite thorough for a good, solid grounding in the basics. And once you actually start teaching, is when you really learn how to bring yoga to your students. But, how can anyone outside the yoga world understand what it means to say you have completed a teacher training? That you are "certified?"

Every once and awhile I take a look at nearby programs, thinking I ought to get some letters and numbers after my name. And every time I get discouraged by the idea of shelling out thousands of dollars for something that has very limited meaning. What's the point? Even aerobics instructors and personal trainer have standards and affiliations that require testing and re-testing, that make a lot of the YTTs look like opportunists. Enter your credit card number, here.

Organizing an oversight body would be a huge task. Some states are starting to require that training programs justify themselves. It's kind of a mess. But, leave it to the Canadians to initiate a conversation about how to start this process, instead of bickering about individuals' rights to make a buck, like we always do in the US. Maybe inspiration will come, maybe a movement is beginning. There are rumblings...

This seems to be a season of reflection and inquiry into the nature and future of yoga in North America; I hope the topic of teaching training will be an important part of the discussion.

Whippersnappers.

2010-09-13T14:33:00.006-05:00

We got our first Human Biology exams back today. No unpleasant surprises for me (or pleasant ones, for that matter...I knew I'd get the passive diffusion question wrong), but some of the class was extremely disappointed. Judging by the discussion we had about a graph on heart disease, the big problem was with reading and interpreting data--or lack of data--correctly.

This is not a post about math literacy, so stick with me.

Several members of the class misread an uptick in heart disease in 2000 as the result of 9/11. This stunned the professor, partially because they got the date wrong, but partially because they actually thought this might be the cause of an additional 100,000 deaths over the course of five years. I was fascinated.

This is primarily a class of freshman. They are a group of 18 year-olds who were in 4th grade when the World Trade Center and Pentagon were hit. To them, it is the defining (inter)national event of their young lives. Maybe it seems entirely plausible that this tragedy would result in so many heart attacks.

I think of 9/11 as the defining moment of the 2000s, but certainly not my life. Maybe it's just a perfect storm of the growth of the internet, the 24-hr-news cycle combined with two wars started by the Bush Administration, but as we move into the last year and a half of this decade it seems like the legacy of Sept. 11 is a nation that wants everything black and white. If you're not with us, you're against us.

What is encouraging is that these kids don't seem so quick to define the enemy. They mostly worry about money and if they'll have a job upon graduating. They're okay with gay marriage and immigration. It's the older generations that want it crystal clear...and want to get mad about it in the process. We see it in the mid-term elections, we see it on the news channels, we see it the response to a straightforward plea for less sexist yoga advertising.

So maybe the end result of 9/11 will be more heart disease, if everyone over 30 keeps working themselves into a lather of hatred over what the "other guy" is trying to pull. Why agree to disagree when you can point and call names?

But I'm hopeful. They may have been wrong about question six, but I think these teenagers realize there is a lot of gray. That it's mostly just confusing, instead of obvious. Maybe they can take some observations they made as children, and move beyond this era of Us and Them. That sure would make my heart beat a little faster...

Good Things Come...

2010-09-07T10:45:00.003-05:00

... to Those Who Wait. But who has time to Wait, anymore? Or the patience to Wait? Can't the microwave pop that corn any faster?!?!

Patience is a virtue. Or was--maybe it's more of a lost art. I try to remind myself, especially when dealing with the Big Picture, that things take time and will reveal themselves eventually. With instant downloading, instant messaging, yoga in 15 minutes-or-less, it's hard to remember that most of the things that matter are not quick. They need to unfold at their own pace and rushing them will just foul everything up. Anyone who has ever dabbled in watercolors knows exactly what I mean.

But can you teach it? How do you convey the idea that you can't have a thing immediately, just because you want it? Is it simply a matter of experience, age? Do you have to sit, miserably, watching the black pigment soak across your entire sheet of expensive Arches watercolor paper before you get it? Burn your hand on a hot pan full of fresh chocolate star cookies (a painful bit of negative reinforcement for the 6-yr-old yesterday)?

I wonder if there is a way to learn patience through positive reinforcement. The more effective examples seem to be the lessons learned when you're not patient; especially because you have to be patient to see the fruits of patience. So maybe it is an age thing. Somewhere you have to find a source of calm, quiet reserve to allow stuff to just happen.

Obviously, yoga is great training for this (I guarantee it will take a lot more than 15 minutes), but you have to go into the practice already ready to slow yourself down. The realization sets in pretty quickly that it is "slow medicine," but even accepting that fact requires a bit of self-discipline. I have students who took a few months to get that, but when they finally stopped fighting, it was a beautiful thing. But I don't really think I taught that--I think they had to figure it out themselves.

So, again the question: Is it a learned skill or is it an acquired habit? Can some one show you, or do you have to discover it on your own? Sunny-side up or Over-easy?

Message on a bottle...

2010-08-28T20:36:00.004-05:00

...or on a television show, or in front of the classroom, or in an advertisement, etc. It's impossible to pinpoint exactly where our subconscious gets the material that forms our self-image. It's even harder to decipher how the mind mashes up that information to create our worldview. Psychotherapists can spend years trying to help a patient unravel this complex web of messages, that can be so debilitating and destructive. Even if it isn't affecting your quality of life, that inner critic can be pretty opinionated.

Part of my motivation for pursuing science ed, is sort of a response to the teenage me. Despite showing some aptitude in science and math, I was bound and determined to avoid those subjects at all costs. Why? Because I was too artsy and journalistic for science? It was just for nerdy boys? It was too hard? I'd be hard pressed to say where these ideas came from, but that was the basis for my prejudice. And what a shame, because I think I cut myself off from some really interesting opportunities by listening to that misguided inner voice.

Even with only four classes this past week, already I've heard many of the same misconceptions about studying the sciences from my young classmates, that I entertained in my late teens. The message is still loud and clear from somewhere--artists don't do science, math is too hard, it's gross/boring/hardhardhard. It's an uphill battle against an unseen enemy, but I would love to be a teacher who could change that message.

I would hope to inspire kids to see the subject matter as intriguing, something to explore. I became a yoga teacher, partially because I was so taken with the discipline that I wanted to learn how to show my friends and family what an amazing practice it is. I loved the subject; I wanted to share the subject. And so it goes with biology.

By helping kids learn to explore the natural world, to investigate a problem and discover the answer, comes learning how to think for yourself and forming ideas based on your own experience. How about that as a useful, subversive tool? Get something pierced, if you want, but a truly radical act is thinking for yourself.

And the sooner they get that message, the better.

It's the Transitions that'll kill ya...

2010-08-23T21:15:00.005-05:00

Forgive the triathlon analogy, but it's on my mind these days (one more in September). So...multi-sport...swim/bike/run; the trick is to maintain your exertion level so you're working hard, but not working too hard. You can't blast into the swim and wreck your lungs for the bike, pedal like a maniac and fry your quads for the run, and, well, you just have to struggle through the run to get to the bagels. But, you also can't ignore the transitions--water to bike seat to open road. You have to change clothes, add equipment, grab a quick drink--and the time you spend is included in your final count. No lollygagging.

The trick is to finesse the transitions so, after a mad scramble, you can smoothly move into the next event--for which you've trained and have some time to settle into a rhythm and just focus on the task at hand.

And ain't that just like life?

It's the in-betweens that will lay you low--the changes in routine, the stopping short, the sharp left turn. They can be exciting, upsetting, re-energizing, alarming. They are the start of something new and, no matter how prepared you are, they are disruptive.

Here I am at the beginning of a transition. Tuesday morning is my first day back in school...25 years after the last first day of undergraduate school. Teacher Training, ladies and gentlemen, but this time it's for Biology. This is a trial semester--do I like teaching adolescents science as much as I like teaching adults yoga? Is this really what my contribution to the world will be? Protozoa?!?!

Hopefully this is a disruption that will lead to a smooth, focused ride. Eventually. I'm thrilled on a variety of levels, anxious on others. And I'm very, very curious how it will all play out (oh thank gods for pranayama!).

Back-to-school outfit is chosen (casual, but not too young), equipment is laid out (yay, new notebooks!), a Clif bar tucked into the purse. I'm as ready as I'll ever be for this transition. Hopefully, I don't need a helmet...

The Good Olden Days

2010-08-16T20:58:00.006-05:00

This post is dedicated to all of you out there, who remember your first typewriter. [For the rest of you, Granny B has a tale from when telephones were connected to the wall and you had to flip the record every 20 minutes]

I had a brand, new electric model that I carted off to college. A graduation present. It was so fancy that it could remember the last five letters you typed, and erase them. No White-Out for me! (Four years later, I owned my first computer--a little boxy Mac SE with a screen like a postcard--and the typewriter was mothballed.)

Back in those days, you composed in a notebook, with a pencil or pen, and then rolled a piece of typing paper against the platen (crrk, crrk, hopefully the top edge of the paper was even) and typed up your piece--remembering to hit the return key (electric) or carriage return lever (manual) when the warning bell went off to roll the paper up a line. Woe to she who forgot and ran out of space for a word... (margin release key, hyphen) It was a slow process that required forethought, a variety of accessories (aforementioned White-Out to paint over mistakes; carbon paper, if you wanted a copy), and time. To "send," you folded up your piece of paper in an envelope, addressed it, and pressed a licked stamp on it before taking it to a mailbox.

Back then, an argument with some one you didn't know might play itself out in letters-to-the-editor or some other published space. Rebuttals weren't remotely immediate and there was time to think about the conflict, perhaps deciding your response wasn't even worth the effort. To fly off the handle at a stranger took at least three or four days, depending on your distance.

I suspect part of my discomfort with the whole tenor of last week's debate, was how fast it happened. While I see myself as completely computer-literate, it is my second language...I'm an ex-pat from the Land of the Analog. Clocks with hands. Typewriters. Phones with cords. Television knobs. Trying to keep up with all the comments and related blog posts was exhausting and the speed that opinions were posted gave me whiplash. A perfect storm of emotion and reaction. Often missing a pause for reflection (myself included).

And I'm glad we were all able to participate. How cool is a global discussion? But I still get agitated arguing with a person I've never met; forming opinions based on a single, careless adjective. ("How dare he call me jealous!") I lost a lot of sleep worrying about my own snippy comments, fired off in a moment of viewpoint-defending passion. How so not like me--a yoga teacher! A Midwesterner! A lot of anxiety was generated as I operated outside my usual contemplative, non-confrontational zone.

I guess that's life as an immigrant...never completely of one land or another, fondly remembering the traditions of Old Country, but embracing the innovations of the New. I'll have to remind myself, in the next go round, to keep a dictionary handy and remember cultural niceties. Don't gesture with the middle finger or stick chopsticks straight up and down in my rice. So to speak...

We still have a shelf-full of 45s and 12" singles, by the way (ask your parents about that, my dears...)

What are you lookin' at?

2010-08-09T13:17:00.005-05:00

What seems to be missing from l'affaire toesox (as Carol Horton sensitively discusses here), is any acknowledgment of the difference between the way women and (straight) men perceive the use of naked women in yoga imagery. Or any imagery, for that matter.

In her book, The Male Brain (2010), Louann Brizendine takes a close look at the chemistry of the male brain, as a follow-up to her earlier book The Female Brain. In her article "Sex, Mating and the Male Brain," she reminds us the main goal of any species is to procreate; to that end, the male brain has evolved to specifically seek out a female that offers the greatest potential to meet that goal--young, shapely, healthy, and not pregnant with another man's child. She writes, "Researchers at the University of California found that it takes the male brain only 1/5th of a second to classify a woman as sexually hot or not. This verdict is made long before a man's conscious thought processes can even engage." She also notes that the male brain has an area for sexual pursuit that is 2.5 larger than the female brain.

So, perhaps, therein explains part of the gulf between the "what's the big deal?" camp and the "How can you not see the big deal?" camp. They are seeing different images, while looking at the same picture.

The history of Western art is full of pictures of naked women (none of them selling any yoga accessories, by the way), often depicted in all their reproductive glory. Until very recently, almost all of these were painted by men for the use and enjoyment of other men. That's who had the power, the money. Whether immortalizing a mistress (Louis XV's, in this case), celebrating a munificent donation to the church (many an altarpiece), or serving as a beautiful decoration in a palace, wealthy donors regularly requested the inclusion of the idealized female form as a part of the composition.

Francois Boucher's Mademoiselle O'Murphy (1751), from the Wallraf, Richartz Museum in Cologne.

We've been looking at examples of beautiful naked women on display for a male audience for centuries, nay millenia. It's a hard habit to overcome and has become the standard for us all. As Carol astutely notes, "But that’s the thing about the dominant culture: If it’s invisible to us – if we uncritically accept it as normal and natural without reflection – we get sucked into it and end up reinforcing its norms unintentionally."

So I wonder if we're stuck in a place where the twain-shall-never-meet. One group hopes to challenge a status quo, that is reinforced both by culture and biology. The other sees nothing wrong with the status quo. Some want pretty, some want realistic. I'm hopeful we can talk; I'm hopeful we can stay civil--How about fair amounts of each aesthetic?

This issue is obviously much bigger than the yoga world. I guess that's why I got my feelings hurt this weekend by so many of the comments on elephant journal (and that's exactly what it was, feelings getting hurt, I should not be taking so much of this personally). Judith was so calm, so reasoned in her letter, I thought it would inspire a really good conversation about the contemporary yoga industry and where it seems to be headed. Maybe some one would have insight into why naked yoga ads are a good thing and make me question my assumptions. Instead it was internet-commentary-as-usual: emotional and defensive and far from the original ideas in the letter or roseanne's post.

Maybe the topic is too confrontational, too raw. Maybe this is the same old battle being fought. I had hoped this conversation could be the start of something beautiful, but I am wary.

Whose Beautiful is it, anyway?!?

2010-08-06T09:10:00.003-05:00

With each of my pregnancies, I couldn't wait for the 20th week to roll around. That's the week you get the ultrasound that--usually--shows the sex of the child, if you want to know it. And I wanted to know. While I would have loved any child and was just hoping for healthy, I was also crossing my fingers that both babies would be boys.

This is a bit disingenuous, because I have many friends with wonderful, smart daughters and I have many wonderful, smart friends and relatives who would be great role models. But, having negotiated girlhood in this culture obsessed with the female form, I wasn't sure I had the strength to negotiate it again with a little girl.

Boys don't have to deal with thong panties, makeovers, boob jobs, sexy dance class routines, and an overall message that the only thing that truly matters is how smokin' hot you are. And if you are bit short of smokin' hot, there are lots of products you can buy, operations you can have, to get you there. Advertisers are trying to figure how to make boys insecure enough to buy male versions of the lotions and potions, but they just haven't quite got it. Yet.

So imagine my delight with this week's (hopefully, this year's) yoga talking point--Judith Hanson Lasater's letter to Yoga Journal on using sex to sell in its advertising. (it's all yoga, baby will bring you up to date) I've written before about my frustration with the way yoga is marketed and the image the yoga industry has decided to present to the world. Unrealistic bodies doing incredibly difficult poses--yeah, that will bring 'em in!

My contribution to the discussion is just to put forth the question, to everyone who says this is just about appreciating beautiful bodies or offering something to aspire to: what message are you sending teenage girls, who are looking to the world for an idea of what womanhood will be like? What do we, as a culture, value in women and what are the most important attributes to strive for? A tight ass? Sculpted abs? Surely not...

And I'm not so naive to think that anything will really change in the overall culture any time soon. The media has figured out what brings eyes to screens, clicks to pages, and these are seriously entrenched strategies that seduce everyone. But it breaks my heart that the yoga world embraces it, as well. The one practice that shouldn't be about the external or cling to screwy standards of physical perfection, and yet--naked yoga socks ads (what is it with yoga products for feet?!?).

Please, yoga industry, think about the girls (and boys) and what message they are getting from your choices. I'm glad you can fund your teaching retreats and "reach" so many more students. I'm glad yoga is getting coverage in the mainstream press (altho some of that coverage we could do without). I'm glad you can put your foot behind your head. But, seriously, don't you see this kind of advertising for what it is? Do you really believe that every reader will understand your outer beauty is simply a reflection of inner grace?

Aren't we more sophisticated in our thinking than that? I hope the response this letter has generated will really encourage some thinking, some re-assessing. Many of us have been harping about this for years...maybe this is the push that will really lead to shove.

Let's Take Back Beautiful!

The comfort of ritual

2010-08-02T16:42:00.009-05:00

It was a weekend filled with significant ritual, one joyous, one sad. Neither was about me (altho, technically, a child's birthday commemorates a day his mother completed a very rigorous task, but never mind), so I was merely a bystander. On Saturday it was a birthday party; on Sunday, a funeral.

Ah, the delayed gratification of summer birthdays--we were camping on Eamonn's official day, so we planned to have friends over the weekend we got back. The event was fairly low-key--water balloons in the backyard, temporary tattoos, soap bubbles, hot dogs and juice. The six-year-olds tore around the house, delighting in their own company, but very aware of the vital elements of the celebration. The event had a logical progression: play, eat, play, open presents, play, get gift bags. If something wasn't happening soon enough, a guest was certain to remind us of the next activity. Very ordered. As I said, a ritual.

There was the same sense of security-through-logical-order at the funeral of a dear neighbor the next day. He was a proud veteran of WWII, and had an honor guard and a group of navy men at the service to prepare the flag that draped his coffin. It was moving, especially the meticulous folding of the flag, to witness this ritual of preparing a sailor for burial and the send off for his soul. Taps on a single bugle.

Participating in these juxtaposed celebrations made me think about the role of ritual in our everyday life. They unfold without surprise, designed to mark a significant passage and to give those near and dear to the recipient a role in the event. One prepares a birthday cake, one writes a eulogy, one lights candles, one says a prayer. They provide comfort by bringing structure to the unstructureable--growing up, death. It's a way to impose a sense of order over things we can't control.

As a householder, I appreciate that which gives comfort, even if--ultimately--it is just an illusion. My sons will learn soon enough that the future is unknown, unwritten. That their parents have created a very safe, but very small, world for them to inhabit and that everywhere else is a free-for-all. Dog-eat-dog. I explained to Eamonn that Mr. Jayson had died and that we were going to the service. He wanted to know why he died, why your body shuts down when you get old. But he seemed pretty accepting of the news, and I think this glimpse at death wasn't too upsetting or scary. Maybe (I hope) his own life seems endless right night now and that 91 is an unconceiveably long way away. Now is the time to focus on birthday guests and who gets what color balloon.

It was a weekend of reflection, with this contrasting events. Each tempered the emotion of the other, leaving me a bit pensive. But in a good way. I'm all for ritual and habit, if it helps smooth the passage of these affecting events.

The (in)finite foot

2010-07-27T15:02:00.003-05:00

My Goodness. I emerge from the wilderness (canoeing in the Boundary Waters in northern Minnesota), and the yoga b-sphere is alight with discussion. But, since I have little to say on John Friend, even less on Tantra, I'll leave that to those more knowledgeable (altho YogaDawg's comment on it's all about yoga has the wheels turning).

I was very taken with Brooks Hall and Bob Weisenberg's exchange on elephant journal. In fact, I've been thinking along those lines all week...lakes, loons, and pine trees will do that to a body. The infinite, the finite, what brings us back to center the most?

One discovery, this camping trip, is that I am no longer able to blissfully spend the night on the hard ground with just a thin thermarest under my body and a lumpy backpack under my head. Such stiffness in the morning! So everyday, I hobbled down to a gently sloping chunk of granite by the water and moved through a series of chest and shoulder openers and twists just to get the synovial fluids moving.

Bare feet on a warm rock, man, speaking of infinite joy. I just love doing yoga without a mat, in bare feet, in the great outdoors. I like to honor the sole of the foot as a sense organ, not just a mode of transportation. The sensations of temperature, texture, moisture, and shape under my feet contribute to the practice as much as quieting thoughts or stretching muscles. The uneven ground challenges the sense of balance (no headstands), as does the flowing water (Vrksasana was wobbly), but coming back to the base stilled each pose. And when that base is having its own heightened experience, the whole thing gets bumped to a new level.

Throw in a loon's echoing call, campfire coffee (you could skip the mosquitoes), and there's my recent adventure...

[On another note--I was honored to be featured on The Magazine of Yoga's weekly Blog Fan Page, while I was off the grid. Such a thoughtful (and accurate) description of this blog...please take a look at other recommendations and enjoy Susan M.'s careful, researched descriptions.]

Sisters are doin' it...

2010-07-13T21:19:00.003-05:00

Well, this sister did it. I finished my first outdoor triathlon this Sunday. It was an all-women's sprint (1/2 mile swim, 12 mile bike, 3 mile run), sponsored by TREK bikes, and it was phenomenal. Not so much my performance (I finished, so I was quite pleased with that), but this mass of super-strong, super-focused female energy. It was so inspiring to be a part of the whole thing.

You know where I'm going with this, don't you?

And, repeatedly, I thought to myself, why can't this be what the face (body) of womanhood looks like? Muscles, hips, curves, tanned skin from spending time outside (not a machine), unfussy hairdos, smile lines, crinkly eyes, sandals you could run in. Guilt-free chocolate. All of us assembled in one place to challenge ourselves and our bodies...but happy about it, not hyper-competitive. You got the sense that people were proud of themselves, not feeling inadequate or ugly (well, except maybe for inner monologues during the run). A beautiful thing, to be sure.

Now, I usually prefer a mixed-gender group, but, for a first-timer, I appreciated the supportive environment...newbies, cancer survivors, sinewy veterans, but all chicks. While looking over the transition area, where 1683 bikes were parked with Elmo balloons and chalk greetings ("We're so proud of you, Mom!") marking peoples' spots, my friend observed, "I'll bet Ironman doesn't look like this." Sweet, a little silly.

For three or four hours, no one was worrying if they looked fat or old or boring. It was all about inner (and outer) strength; about being able to go deep inside and pull out the energy needed to finish. How refreshing. I wish it could be like that all the time, for everyone. All "you go, girl" messages, instead of "imagine what you would look like 20 lb.s lighter."

Wouldn't that be nice. I wish, I wish, I wish.

(P.S. If you're toying with the idea of a triathlon, can't recommend enough the site, Tri-Newbies Online for training suggestions, info, workouts, etc. It is a very sane, careful approach to training, with a lot of advice for first-timers. Yoga, of course, is a wonderful complement to it all, both physically and mentally.)

Yo, Calliope!

2010-07-08T08:05:00.003-05:00

Perhaps my most favorite thing to muse over is creativity. Just how do humans come up with their ideas? How do we keep generating new things to amuse, challenge, upset, inspire? The ancient Greeks (and, even more, Renaissance Italians) liked to personify the urge to create with a variety of female demi-goddesses. I guess it's easier to blame some willful divinity for your writer's block, than waiting around for your synapses to start firing.

My professional trajectory has been one that often intersects with one or another of the classical muses (altho these girls weren't really standardized and assigned specializations until Cesare Ripa's Iconologia in 1593); journalism (Calliope)-art history (Clio)-costume design (Melpolmene/Thalia)-and, in a way, back to journalism. It's been a mix of being creative and studying creativity and justifying creativity (to an actress whose ability to create is dependent on whether she thinks she looks fat or not).

The act of creation; sometimes the urge and the ideas overwhelm in their volume, other times it's impossible to even get started. They say, it's a matter of the brain's ability to operate outside of usual patterns, often facilitated by letting the mind wander or doing something relaxing (like knitting or, ahem, doing yoga) to shift the task into an auxiliary system. Putting it on the back burner, if you will. But, it's funny how a deadline--decidedly not relaxing--can help accelerate the process. Sometimes the most brilliant work comes at the last moment (altho that's usually not the best strategy for something that requires careful proofreading). Adrenaline? Activated sympathetic nervous system?

However, like the ancient Greeks, to me it feels like some external presence/inspiration arrives after the usual pre-work puttering (facebook, putting away dishes, a round of shanghai). I get about an hour to an-hour-an-a-half of productivity and then, like a sputtering match, the words stop coming and my creativity flickers out. It's the same with writing or with drawing, whether being eloquent with words or proportional with a drawing of the human figure. Bye, bye, muse, and it gets all redundant and ugly. The steel doors come slamming shut. (I wonder what that sez about my brain's circuitry...limited and prone to blowing a fuse?)

Anyway, interesting to ponder. Any metaphors you'd like to add? How does the muse visit you?

Don't Mess with the Mat...

2010-06-30T12:35:00.005-05:00

I had my YIP class on Saturday. Lovely weather (I challenged the gray skies and they turned to blue...yoga power), devoted students; a delightful practice, all in all. As I was setting up--which involved picking up a few cigarette butts, tossing out a beer can and unrolling my mat--a couple was letting their dog chase a few ducks and take a swim. The woman looked over, saw my mat, and gathered her crew, "Oh look, I'm sure the ladies don't want to watch you and a wet dog while they do yoga." They hustled off.

Boy, I thought, yoga has arrived in Beloit, Wisconsin, if all you need to do is unroll a mat and your intention is immediately recognized. No asana, no chanting, not even students at that point, just sitting cross-legged on a mat in the grass and I might as well be unfurling a giant Om banner.

The ultimate yoga icon: The Mat.

More than Vrksasana or namaste or stretchy white chicks...when people see The Mat, they think of yoga. It delineates your individual space in a crowded class (don't step on any one else's!); its ritual unrolling symbolizes the beginning of practice. The colors and pattern represent your personality--soothing lilac, tropical hibiscus, punchy orange. Its material indicates your politics--eco-friendly, thrify, hedonist. Its carrying case a testament your craft cred(how many knitting patterns are out there for a mat bag?), or busy schedule (peeking out of your bulging backpack like a Frenchman's baguette).

[Maybe that's part of why the free mats at NYC's Yoga on the Great Lawn event were such an affront: crass advertising on that most sacred of rectangles! Treating The Mat like a stupid koozie or bumper sticker or ugly ball cap...the nerve!]

Of course, I kid. But as I mulled over the implications of this floppy piece of cushioning, I came to see it as truly symbolic of one's own practice. Your are your Mat, so to speak. Which begs the question...what if you don't use a mat? Purist? Cheap? Have a carpeted living room? Again, it's a sort of psychological yoga test.

What does your mat say about you...?

Pardon me, your Yoga is showing...

2010-06-24T15:34:00.004-05:00

I just got back from a wonderful weekend at the beach. Two dear friends from high school, sand, surf, and no responsibility. It was dreamy...although highly unsustainable. I jogged on the beach, read for hours (more later on Wendy Doniger's The Hindus), did a little yoga on the beach. Am in the process of acclimating to Real Life...

Yoga Outside...so topical, this week. I'd meant to post before I left, because Yoga Spy left an intriguing comment last week about doing yoga in public and I found it inspiring, if a bit confounding. Now, It's All Yoga, Baby also has a post worth considering in this context, too. There's some back and forth about the giant yoga-in in NYC, but I haven't read up on that, seeing as I was "off-line" when it went down.

For me, our little session in the sand was just a quick amuse bouche. A little stretch-and-commune-with-nature, but nothing particularly deep or moving. However, doing it outside did mean we were on view, and one jogger going by was so distracted he wandered into the incoming wave. (n.b. we were 2 middle-aged ladies and one man in sloppy tees and shorts, no hot yoga bods, here) Still, we felt better afterwards and definitely more calm, so benefits were had.

Which gets me to my (and my fellow bloggers') point. Is yoga outside too distracting to count as yoga? Are you drawing too much attention to yourself? Are you too aware of what else is going on? Does this detract from the practice, or enhance it?

I see the point on both sides. I think a traditional practice--a withdrawing from the senses--probably is made more difficult by being outside, or at least in public with passerbys and whatnot. But I think a modern practice (so to speak) is improved; I think you become more aware of what you are doing and you become very sensitive to your environment. Instead of withdrawing from your senses, you withdraw from the distractions of everday life--demands, obligations, to-do-lists--and become more in tune with your body and your place in nature. One living being among many.

I'm all for quieting the monkey-mind, however it is accomplished. I like to keep the tool box filled, if you will. But I'm really interested in what the rest of you think. Wind, waves, and walkers or serenity, screens, and silence?

(Aah, Topsail Beach in North Carolina...)

Yoga al fresco

2010-06-14T15:35:00.003-05:00

Barring any weather developments--this being the Midwest, you never know--I'm teaching my first outdoor yoga class in a couple of Saturdays. I love yoga outside; breezes, smells, flowers, grass, birds. A sensory smorgasbord to add to the mix. I think it makes you feel a little more one-with-the-planet-ish, and certainly more in-tune with nature.

I've done outdoor classes before and I thought I'd try to be a bit more connected to the location of the class, this time around. I usually pick a favorite sequence, maybe add a bit longer meditation or savasana, but this time I want to try something different. Try something that really takes us out of a basic practice, just by the fact that it's happening outside.

How? I dunno, I'm still mulling it. Because the ground will be lumpy and bumpy, I think we'll be on our feet or sitting most of the time, instead of lying down. Because we're in a beautifully-landscaped corner of Beloit's Riverside Park--garden on one side, river on the other, we'll keep our eyes open (focusing on flowers rather than just turning inward). Maybe not too many standing balance poses, but several seated twists to take in all the scenery.

Changing perspective is really cool and a bit trippy outside, so I want to throw in some inversions--Down Dog, Prasarita Padottanasana and look at the tops of trees from the bottom of our feet. I always use a lesson plan, so I don't have to think about the sequence as it unfolds, but I will be a bit looser for this class. Maybe a nearby duck or goose or snake will present an opportunity to modify...snakes always liven the up joint.

I was initially inspired by this Yoga Journal piece, but I figured I'd turn to my favorite online resource--Y'all. So tell me, what yoga do you do outside? Why? What do you change? What changes you?
(Thank to OldOnliner for his gorgeous flickr photos of Riverside Park)

Simpler Times

2010-06-06T15:03:00.004-05:00

In last week's comments I said that one of the things that I like about my new exercise "regimen" is that it frees my yoga practice up to be more-than-exercise. But I've been thinking...it wasn't that long ago (seven years ago, in my pre-teaching days) that it was just a part of the routine, included to help soften the edges of high-stress workdays and stretch out a tense body.

Sometimes I miss those simpler times, when awareness of the texts or history or different schools of yoga didn't seem to matter that much. Every Thursday evening, I put on my stretchies, gathered up my mat and water bottle and headed off to class for 1 1/2 hours of calming and strengthening. It was a temporary escape from my Washington DC life to put myself in the hands of a strong, experienced teacher, where all I had to do was follow directions and keep my mind clear.

I manage to take a class here and there (it's not easy being one of the few teachers in town), but never with that beginner's mind. I'm always collecting ideas for my own classes or sneaking peaks at adjustments or memorizing clever sequences--I know, I know, mind my own business--but, as they say, once a teacher, always a teacher. And, while I cherish my level of understanding, sometimes I wish it could just be easy again.

I guess that's the trade-off when you decide to pursue a beloved hobby as a profession. Your relationship to the activity changes and it can never be "just" something you do in your free time. You know too much.

Maybe that's what is so nice about the biking and running and swimming. It's "just" exercise. Of course I've looked at various training sites and read about strategies to improve, but it's still just something I slip into the schedule for an hour or so five times a week. No great thoughts, no strong emotion, just some sweat and work.

That would be a good summer goal--to make yoga easy again. Just do the asana and leave the rest for the experts (or for when I'm teaching). Challenging. Appealing. Possible? We'll see...

Listen, my children, and you shall hear...

2010-05-31T16:33:00.005-05:00

I was supposed to run a quarter marathon yesterday. But, a convergence of (minor) misfortunes--a pulled adductor muscle, stomach flu, head cold--cost me three weeks of training and made running 6.5 miles seem like a very bad idea.

It's so hard to listen to your own advice. Pay attention to just yourself; modify the sequence to suit your body; only you can know if the pose is working or not. All fine and good to suggest during yoga class, but start me slogging down the street and it's all the old voices of junior high school track (too slow, too heavy) whispering in my ear. So, Mother Nature decided to get my attention with a mighty twinge in my right thigh. I thought I'd better listen.

In the beginning of this year I trained for, and ran in, a sprint triathlon. I had two goals: 1. To see if I could actually do the work without killing myself (yes) and 2. To tame my hyper-competitive spirit (sorta). Funny how that is such a problem for me--and maybe why yoga appeals so much.

I love swimming. I love riding my bike. Running makes me feel lumpy and slumpy and like I'm just pounding along. But, I enjoy the cross-training and I think it is good for me to have to work on something that doesn't come easily. That has a lot of voices attached to it. I have to remind myself frequently to just do the work and not focus on the fruits (thanks, B-G).

To me, the whole thing is a nice physical metaphor for life. Some things will come easily and be a delight, some things require a lot of work and are a challenge. How can you adapt your thinking so that you will be open to learning from both experiences? Maybe even find some joy in the rough stuff (or at least be at peace with it)?

The leg is fine, now. I have another triathlon in July, that I'm really looking forward to. My massage therapist noted that the yin meridian in my right leg was blocked so I'm working on getting the chi flowing. I went out for a bike ride this afternoon that was lovely. No voices, just breeze and open fields and bird song.

Doesn't that sound nice...

A Fair Trade

2010-05-19T19:35:00.007-05:00

What made Homo sapiens so special? Dr. Ridley argues that it wasn’t our big brain, because Neanderthals had a big brain, too. Nor was it our willingness to help one another, because apes and other social animals also had an instinct for reciprocity. “At some point,” Dr. Ridley writes, “after millions of years of indulging in reciprocal back-scratching of gradually increasing intensity, one species, and one alone, stumbled upon an entirely different trick. Adam gave Oz an object in exchange for a different object.” --NYT review of "The Rational Optimist", by Matt Ridley.

Even the most hardened skeptic of the self-expression free-for-all has to admit that plenty of nonprofessional creators, ignoring the wants and needs of the market, have produced priceless gifts for the rest of us to enjoy.--"Valuing $0" by Rob Walker, NYT Sunday Magazine.

Though the unwise cling to their actions, watching for results, the wise are free from attachments, and act for the well-being of the whole world.--Bhagavad Gita, 3.25

(Isn't it funny how things seem to coalesce when you're trying to come up with a blog post? All these quotes floated across my radar screen this past week, and all seemed relevant.)

I'm a big fan of Web 2.0, and all the kooky, wonderful free stuff that's out there for the downloading (plenty of shite too, I know, but that's part of the fun). I wonder if this is going to be the "good old days" that everyone refers to when we have to start paying for content and subscribing (not that that wouldn't be fair). And I'm proud to be a contributor to the kookiness which, by the way, has been for exactly four years on Saturday.

Sometimes I think about all the "unvalued" time I've put into this venture. By now, once-a-week for four years (231 posts), it's more like a hobby/habit than anything else. I feel obligated to stay current; I think about what I'd like to formulate into an essay; I get interesting feedback. [BrooksHall wrote a nice piece about this last week] By putting my little offering out there ("gift" seems too grand a title for these random musings), I feel like I've done my work and any fruits that result are a delightful extra. And there have been quite a few fruits (so to speak)--internet friendships, writing opportunities, teaching opportunities, new students, yoga-blog-community membership. Actually, a wealth of riches in exchange for about 45 min.s of my time every 5-7 days.

Would that my physical practice was so regular. But, in a way, they are of the same piece. Some people learn best by doing, others by reading. I float somewhere in the middle, as I like to think and learn and study in addition to do, and it all informs my work on the mat. This writing exercise, such as it is, has deepened my understanding of asana and pranayama and strengthened my teaching in ways I never could have imagined. I am a person of the book, to be sure.

Thanks, everyone, for accepting this little blog as an item of exchange. Unvalued it may be (at least as part of a market economy), it is priceless to me.

Deep Thoughts

2010-05-13T14:47:00.005-05:00

Several things inspired this week's post: my 80-year-old teacher, Nicky Plaut; in Madison, Linda Sama's lovely, thoughtful birthday essay; a bit in the NYT's Science Times. Overall theme: the wisdom that comes with age.

I watched a beautiful, young thing jog around the track at the Y, today. At each pass by the mirror, she checked herself out and, by the end of the run had rolled her tank top way up and her shorts way down. I guess her hipbones needed to cool off. I thought about how much energy you expend on your appearance as a youngster--am I pretty/strong/buff/tan/thin enough? And, I guess,when you've got such smooth skin, such endless energy, and haven't tasted much disappointment, it all seems like something that really matters.

One thing I find so inspiring about my teacher in Madison, is that even though she inhabits an obviously aging body, she moves with such grace and ease. I watched her feet while we were doing Adho Mukha Svanasana, and they looked so strong and balanced. Nothing scraggly or misshapen, no bulging veins or discoloration. Instead of seeing her body as something that must be tamed and offered up for others' approval, she presents it as an accomplice in good health. She works with it, rather than against it, accepting the limitations (she now uses a headstand-chair) but still moving through all the poses her much-younger students obviously struggle with. I guess that's what 50 years of yoga will do...coupled with a good attitude.

This is where Linda's post and the NYT article come in. Linda talks about the acceptance that comes with age, and the peace and calm that result from that acceptance. The article is about a study showing adults over 60 are much better negotiators, judges, and counselors because of their ability to see multiple perspectives and their recognition of the limits of knowledge. There is no black-and-white. (Well, as long as you're not an aging member of the Tea Bag Party) I guess you start to realize that all the fighting isn't worth it. There's nothing to Win and you just wear yourself out.

I'm still pretty early in my Middle Age, but I hope I to take all of this to heart and let it guide. They say that Youth is wasted on the young, but I think I agree with the other maxim that says, "you can have everything, just not at once." You don't get boundless energy and an unlined face with deep wisdom--that would be overwhelming. As I move towards more lines, though, I think I'm just fine with the trade-off.

Wisdom has more staying-power, anyway.

Peace out, y'all.

No Fruit for You!

2010-05-07T11:38:00.006-05:00

Don't worry, I'm not about to go all Atkins on you. Myself, I can't think of anything more delicious than a fresh peach or tomato in season...but I digress.

This is Week One of elephant journal's discussion of the Bhagavad Gita, and what a response! 142 comments, with more accumulating. It's such an interesting mix, emotional responses from people who use it as a guide for living, academic responses from those who want to discuss translation and context, tentative responses, a few hot air responses (gotta admit, I hit the *scroll down* button whenever I see the word "ontological")--all lovingly moderated by Bob Weisenberg.

We're reading Chapters 1 and 2 for next Monday. I am immediately taken with one of the themes of the second chapter:
"You have a right to your actions, but never to your action's fruits." (2.47)
and "Pitiful are those who, acting, are attached to their action's fruits." (2.49)
and "The wise man lets go of all results, whether good or bad, and is focused on the action alone." (2.50)

That's a lot of metaphorical produce! But I love it as an image and it is truly one of those things that can make you crazy--clinging to those fruits. Especially when said actions concern another person. You do what you can, own the doing, but the result is not under your control. Worry, fret, get angry all you like, but you can't make those fruits be the way you want them to be.
I don't think this means be complacent. Since your contribution to the whole endeavor is the actions, those should be done as conscientiously as possible. I think you can even hope for a desired outcome--if you're still new to the wisdom business--but don't get too disappointed by what actually happens. Or too excited, for that matter (happy vs satisfied). It all could change in a matter of seconds.

It certainly isn't the first time we've been warned of this kind of attachment. Bhante Sujatha told a similar tale at a Christmas-time meditation I went to last year. Funny how this message seems to reach across time and cultures...says something of the quirks of human nature. Just. Let. Go.

So, plants those seeds. Nurture them, tuck mulch around them, sprinkle water, trim dead leaves. Appreciate the fresh salsa, but don't take the blight fungus personally when everything turns brown and falls off over the course of two days. (Man, I sure could have used the Gita during last year's gardening season...)

Bendy...

2010-05-05T18:56:00.003-05:00

You can keep your stinkin' Olympics. What I wanna know is: If I do enough yoga, will I be able to do this?

In my humble opinion, the red gingham bloomers are way cuter than, well, just about anything in black lycra.
(Thanks Meikka C. for the link)

Achtung Baby

2010-04-30T12:16:00.006-05:00

Setting: Kerbey Lane Cafe, Austin, TX, mid-1990s
What: 2 young people eating lunch at a window seat and watching customers arrive...a white limo pulls up and a short, spiky-haired fellow gets out, wearing high-heeled cowboy boots and wrap-around glasses.
bkp: (snorts) Look at that guy, he thinks he's Bono!
jrr: (calmly) He's right.
bkp: (remembering U2 is in town) Hmph!

I was reminded of this scene from my past, while considering recent comments on my earlier post.

Seriously, if people are happy with their yoga classes and no one is being exploited or abused, is there really a problem? I certainly enjoy the discussion and crafting an argument can be a great mental exercise but, at the end of the day, if some one thinks their brightest contribution to the practice of yoga is a pair of yoga shoes, maybe they're right. If shelling out for yoga pants can help assuage the fear of "camel toe" during class, maybe that's a good thing. Perhaps Led Zeppelin and 59 other sweaty bodies can be the path to inner peace (and a bargain, to boot).

The practice of yoga has been around for a long time and will survive any attempts at hybridization, branding, or re-imaging that the entrepreneurs can think up--whether I get mad about it or not. Come for the tight yoga bod, stay for the mental peace. Whatever.

So I'm going to try and stop caring (so much) about the trendy and get back-to-basics. Wanna join me? Bob Weisenberg is hosting a book discussion group over on Elephant Journal; first text under consideration-Stephen Mitchell's translation of the Bhagavad Gita. As Bob says, this is one of the Big Three of yoga sources, along with the Sutras and Upanishads (I hope we'll read those, too). I'm looking forward to this; the combo of Bob's thoughtful discussion, comments from many of the usual suspects, emotional reactions, and intellectual exploration should make for a really lively and interesting mind-full. On Monday, we're starting with the Introduction (just 20 pages, there's plenty of time...).

Do come.

By Any Means Necessary

2010-04-27T14:50:00.006-05:00

Some good stuff this (and last) week: yoga for those who can (should) afford it, for those who can't, yoga for everyone. I am especially inspired by the discussion following Roseanne's post on mobile yoga and Linda's on donation yoga --are the hybrid yogas and cheap yoga a good thing, as long as they bring new students to the practice?

My comment to Roseanne was that strategies for getting-everyone-on-the-mat strike me as similar to those of trying-to-get-everyone-to-read. The reasoning seems to follow that it doesn't matter what people do, or the quality, but just that they are doing it--60 people crammed in a studio, rollerblade yoga, graphic novels. Who am I to say what kind of yoga/books people should enjoy...maybe these will lead them on the path to "harder" stuff and that these are the gateways to a more intense yoga or literary experience.

But maybe they won't.

And that's where my enthusiasm for the hybrids ends. I certainly don't have a problem with other forms of exercise borrowing from yoga or other reading material being considered a part of literature (and I think some graphic novels are brilliant, but you don't read them like you read a page full of words) . I think both approaches miss the point--that these should be activities that force you to leave the external world and enter an interior one. Asana should help you get out of your body and books should challenge your imagination. It's hard work to exercise the brain, but that is what doing yoga and reading the printed word is to me.

So if the class stays focused on cost-cutting (meaning the factory-farm model, to borrow R's analogy) or trying to do the "best" arm balance or tightening your abs and glutes, I'm not particularly supportive. If the book feeds you all the visuals or dumbs-down the language or draws its characters from a TV show, I'm not thrilled. If that's really all some one is looking for, she's missing a lot. Maybe the whole thing.

But that's just my opinion. Maybe these options do create awareness for some people, or maybe they will want to seek a more challenging approach some day. However, it seems that if you offer people an easier way, they rarely decide to try something harder. And, since the easy way is usually the profitable way...well, you know how that story ends.

(BTW, this is in no way to denigrate the awesome, generous spirit in which most pay-what-you-can yoga classes are offered. There are many wonderful teachers out there sharing their knowledge for free or on the cheap...not with an eye on the bottom line, but on spreading the love. I am grateful they can do that, and I hope people realize that this is a gift and not something to be taken for granted.)

The Challenge of Silence

2010-04-21T16:09:00.009-05:00

They have been some really interesting comments about what we take from yoga, especially the stillness and quiet. For me, savasana is the hardest pose and pranayama the hardest practice--it's so hard to shut those voices up! Well, apparently this is a very popular topic--the challenge of silence--and this guy's publicist is working overtime to promote his new book about it...

At least I think this is the guy I was listening to--I know, shameful lack of citation--on NPR the other day. George Prochnik was discussing In Pursuit of Silence, and was making some interesting observations about humans and their need for constant noise. He noted that pretty much every other animal on the planet tries to keep quiet, either to avoid being eaten or to avoid being detected while sneaking up on the former in hopes of eating. Just about the only exception is noise in service of reproduction...

What is it with us humans--top of the food chain, with no predators? big brains in need of constant stimulation? not enough attention as children? too much attention from parents and not enough from the rest of the world? scared of being alone? too many listening devices?

I do okay with quiet (which technically includes the hum of a dehumidifier, the gurgle of the fish tank, occasional scolding from a vocal cat), which is such a relief when I'm the only one at home. But, unless I have the voice of a teacher in my ear, I have a hard time concentrating on my yoga practice without music. I really have trouble meditating. Prochnik suggests controlled background noise can have a focusing effect for kids with ADHD, but I see it working for many of my students and, certainly, for me.

Which makes me a little wistful. I try to cultivate quiet calm, when I can (background noise that I control...with two little boys, yeah, right!). I'd like to think that I'm part of a group that can forgo constant external stimulus, but maybe I'm not (or just barely).

Or maybe quiet has always been hard. Maybe there's a reason yoga was originally restricted to the Brahmin caste; it was thought the average householder couldn't handle it. Maybe it's always been noisy, it's just the kinds (and volume) of noises has changed. Humans have always been the "look at me" animal on the planet...and, for the most part, aren't worried about being lunch.

Something to think about--when you're not trying to not think.

(Overheard at the Milwaukee zoo, "Hey sweetheart, get a load of this...")

The Opening and Closing of a Heart

2010-04-14T16:07:00.005-05:00

Woof. The first discussion on the Diane Rehm show yesterday morning was a four-weller (meaning, I found myself welling up listening to it, four times). And I only caught the last 15 minutes!

The show had assembled a number of counselors and pediatricians who deal with adoption issues, prompted by the actions of an adoptive mother who "sent" her son back to Russia after deciding she couldn't handle him. (I can't begin to understand her decision; suffice it to say, I am very sorry she felt that was her only option and I am sorry that she now has to deal with her own reaction to that decision, as well as global condemnation)

The show had a wonderful, moving call (a two-weller) from a mother dealing with a very difficult, six-year old adoptee. She sounded very tired, but very determined. The host asked her if she'd ever wished she hadn't adopted her daughter. Without a second's pause, the caller said no and said, while she hadn't visualized this life for herself, she figured there was a reason she was matched with this child.

There is some one who is going to have an awesome next life.

It reminded me of another interview I read, in which a woman was recounting her life dealing with her teenage son's mental illness. She told of complaining to her minister that, "this wasn't what she signed up for." Her wise counselor responded, "actually, this is exactly what you signed up for." For me, that exchange really drove home the whole amazing and horrible trade-off of parenthood.

Or any relationship where you accept responsibility for another life, actually. To open your heart and allow some one (thing) in requires a huge investment--of emotion, time, and faith. You cede control to let in the sweetness--and the pain. (Probably the technical explanation is that the brain rewires to accommodate this new sense of self and obligation...but where's the poetry in that?) These are important things to remember during the first heady days of falling in love, bringing home a new pet, considering parenthood.

It makes life that much richer, and that much scarier. I can't think of anything more upsetting than losing some one close...the old I-would-give-my-life-for-you sort of feeling. On the other hand, I can't imagine keeping people at arm's length to avoid any heartbreak. That seems rather cold and lonely.

So I wish you all the ability to open your hearts, and keep them open. Cherish the good and soldier through the bad that comes with this responsibility. It's hard to love, I know, but I wonder if it's even harder not to...

Before there was Yoga...(and After)

2010-04-09T20:36:00.003-05:00

I have been very impressed with the tenor of recent discussions. A lot of really smart (a compliment, as far as I'm concerned), thoughtful responses, with much additional information to put in the mix. Very cool.

I'm struck by the variety of experience out there. Not that it should surprise me, but there are a lot of interesting back stories that I'm just getting a glimpse of: college majors, past career tracks, enthusiasms, impressive reading lists. It got me to thinking (don't it always) about what leads up to one's yoga "career" and what it was about yoga that was so compelling that we stayed. Some of it is obvious (stress-relief, fitness, improved health), but--of course--yoga moves in deep and subtle ways and there must have been something more personal that each of us responded to. Before there was yoga, there was something else and I want to know what it was...

So, I'll go first. My first yoga class was in the fall of 1989, in Philadelphia with Joan White, a long-time Iyengar instructor. It was also my first semester of grad school in Art History at the Univ. of Pennsylvania, and my first Big City experience as an adult. I was quite overwhelmed by Ivy Leaguers and the City of Brotherly Love and I'd heard yoga was good for stress, so I thought I'd try it out.

Of course, it was good for stress, but what caught my attention was Joan's rigor and her attention to detail. I liked the soothing pace of the class, but I also liked the right-way/wrong-way dichotomy. That I was there to learn "how" to do a pose and--even though it could be modified--there was a correct version and an incorrect version. Some of this came from Joan's adjustments, but some of it came from the fact that if you're out of alignment, you can't hold Tree Pose. Basic enough.

As a fish-out-of-water Midwesterner, I found this fairly strict presentation of the discipline very appealing. Here was something clear-cut, secure and regular. I could go to class, expect a straightforward sequence, and would feel better when I was finished. None of the "do I belong here" or "can I keep up" voices from the rest of my life at that time.

I guess that's why the basic Iyengar approach continues to resonate with me, altho I've found it a bit inflexible at times. I like the logic and structure. I know one thing will lead to the next and, as this progression unfolds, I will move deeper into the practice and into calm. I can rely on it. It's not that the rest of my life is super-chaotic, but my yoga practice feels like my protected, quiet center.

Before there was yoga there was a lot of nervous, unfocused energy. First Art History and then Costume Design. High-pressure deadlines out of my control, unpredictable personalities, excitement, drama, over-thinking (can you imagine?!?). Sequins. And that is still my tendency, but I have a remedy for the worst of it. And, when I moved back to Wisconsin, I replaced the really crazy life of show biz with that of a yoga teacher (and mother--but that's a bit more of the out-of-control drama).

So, for me, yoga offers Structure. A Voice that reminds me not to over-analyze and helps me focus the energy and settle down. Nothing fancy, not too much dogma, just asana and pranayama and the calm that follows. Common-sense yoga, if you will.

Your turn.

Cogito, bitches

2010-04-03T15:05:00.004-05:00

re. Last Week: That's what I'm talking about. Interesting observations. Provoked thoughts. Amusing anecdotes. That is why we do this, no? And it brings yet another issue to mind...

It seems, on a regular basis, some kind-hearted soul smiles at me while I chase one misbehaving child or another and says, "Well, isn't that their job? To test limits?" And, while I grit my teeth and try not to offer them an afternoon testing their own limits with said child, I have to admit, they're right. That's child (teenager) hood, isn't it, to figure out the rules and then try to transgress them. And sometimes this is problematic--crayon-meets-wall/bike-meets-concrete/alcohol-meets-underage-lips; other times it is something beautiful. That something beautiful is thinking for yourself.

I have a healthy respect for rules. I'm not a fan of chaos or anarchy. But some rules are meant to be challenged, whether with a well-crafted argument or science experiment or clever demonstration. That's what I hope to teach my own little tormentors--using your mind is probably the most transgressive act of all. Cogito Ergo Sum, baby. I Think Therefore I Am.

And so it ties in with my feelings about all the yelling over and the shutting down. The citing of Sutras and taking of the US Constitution's name in vain (you don't really have to read it, you know, to know it's against health reform). The Purists/Constitutionalists/Fundamentalists would have you believe that the guys who wrote the texts that we live by, had no imagination, couldn't conceive of a world other than their own and, therefore, expect us to follow the rules they set down without question or exception.

Yeah, right. A good writer is a good thinker. One who considers words carefully, who crafts meaning with intention, who looks at many sides of an issue. We know T. Jefferson and the Apostle Paul and, probably, Pantanjali, did a lot of thinking before putting pen (quill? charcoal stick?) to paper. I doubt they thought they had all the answers. How could Pantanjali be against chocolate--I doubt he ever tasted it?!?

And yet, people want to take refuge in unchanging verities. To take a text at face value. Instead of thinking reasonably about their beliefs, they want to shut the book and cross their arms and ignore all challenges. That is a trap I hope the boys never fall into--to stop thinking and just accept.

It's a trap I hope we all avoid. It's hard to be a thinking person, it can be lonely, but it is what makes being human such a beautiful thing. We have a very complex and subtle brain; we can abstract, empathize, and use language. Growing up doesn't mean you stop testing limits or questioning rules. Maybe you don't try to write on walls or stuff dirty clothes under the bed anymore, but you should never stop thinking.

I mean, where's the fun in that...

(Thanks, Leonardo, now how about a Vitruvian Woman?)

These are my principles (If you don't like them, I have others)

2010-03-25T21:05:00.008-05:00

I love civil discourse. Dig a frank dialogue. Heart a heated discussion. I am all over a charged debate when both sides have something to say and the verbal skills to do it intelligently. I appreciate having my assumptions challenged and being asked to clarify my statements. I may sputter a bit in the process, get my feelings hurt a little, but--ultimately--it makes me that much more secure in my convictions...or forces me to change my mind.

I'm pretty sure I'm an endangered species.

Never mind the nonsense in the US Congress or on reality TV. I'm talking about here in YogaBlogLand. I am so appreciative of my fellow yogis who are willing to go out on a limb and have an opinion and back it up (it's all yoga, baby; Yogaspy; Linda's Yoga Journey; Yoga for Cynics, Yoga Dork; the writers at elephant journal; everyone's favorite thinker Bob Weisenberg). Not only do they take a stand, but they are willing to engage all comers in the discussion.

What I don't heart (dislike button), is the crowd who hides behind the Anonymous title or accuses people of missing the joke (lame--work on your ironic tone, or show me what I missed) or, worst in my mind, advises more yoga so the writer in question will calm down. Generalizations, name-calling, unsubstantiated claims should be beneath us.

I'm not going to link to any of this (also lame-- but I don't want to seem like I'm flaming any one), but look around at this week's postings and you'll find all of it.

C'mon everyone! We're writers and readers, that's why we're here. We think. It's cool to think. If I don't agree with you, tell me why I should. If you think I'm misguided, cite me a source, chapter and verse. Prove your case. I'm a big girl, I can take it.

There are some really compelling ideas floating around...some lovely, challenging interpretations of this practice we so love. Let's talk about it. Who knows, we might learn something in the process.

But don't leave in a huff. (If that's too soon, you can leave in a minute and a huff).

The Power Within...or Settling for Store-Bought Eggs

2010-03-22T14:12:00.005-05:00

Last Thursday morning, son #2 was bouncing around the living room, relishing the attention of both parents after his big brother left for kindergarten. He announced, "I a Alligator!" and threw himself face first between the armchair and the ottoman, wrenching both shoulders and smacking his chin on the floor. He let a mighty, non-reptilian wail and ran to me, gathering his pacifier and security blanket on the way.

"Wow," said my husband, "Getting out all the big guns."

That, my friends, is true power. Being able to soothe and comfort another living being (with a little help from laytex and polarfleece), just using your own maternal energy. Job #1 for me, these days, is chasing around two boys and, apparently, I'm doing alright.

I'm still thinking about the Goddess thing. Jenn's comment coupled with an NYT Sunday Magazine article, "The Femivore's Dilemma," a few weeks ago about stay-at-home moms who raise chickens, and the fantastic discussion last week made me wonder why can't empowerment come from within.

Why are we (yes--first person--I'm as guilty of this as the next mother hen) seduced with the idea of being super-woman, invincible, divine? Guys are sold the "happiness thru toys" message, while women are targeted with the "happiness thru self-improvement" meme. By choosing language such as goddess, we put the bar so high we are constantly falling short, berating ourselves for not working hard enough, not changing enough lives, not having pretty enough hair. Not tending a chicken coop and educating the children. Yeah, I know goddess is just a word, but words are very powerful things and we should be able to come up with something as compelling but more reasonable.

Why can't we revel in the powers we do have: to teach, to construct, to write, to create, to nurture, etc etc. Celebrate the already existing and build on that, rather than strive for something with high-disappointment potential. I'm not saying we shouldn't have ambition or challenge ourselves, but I just don't understand the need for such impossible standards.

Again--this rant is directed at me as much as anyone else. That's why Jenn's comment was so sweet and common-sense, and why the chicken article bugged me--take pride in what you do do, instead of cooking up some additional tasks that just wear you out and down. You are still a valuable individual, even if you have a short to-do list (and keeping that list short requires serious strength!).

So, yeah, ix-nay on the oddess-gay. I'm open to suggestions for better terms, but I'm ready to retire this one. Luckily I have a source for local eggs...cluck, cluck.

The Goddess Conundrum...

2010-03-14T14:49:00.005-05:00

There's a new blog in town--great title (Namaste, Bitches), great pic (take that, yogis who fret about eating meat and drinking coffee), and a saucy tone. I look forward to hearing about Holly's "recovery" and teaching yoga in the Philly ghetto. Cheesesteak and Pretzel trucks! Brotherly Love!

Her post, "Dating a Yoga Goddess; Damsels, Dharma, and Distress" got a lot of attention, last week. Funny, sassy, a bit "I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar," but an entertaining read and it resonated a lot with people, judging by the comments. It got me to thinking (about her terminology, not her content)...

I just don't like the term "Goddess" to describe female human beings. It always seems sort of self-congratulatory and childish at the same time; an attempt at empowerment that ends up sounding needy (really, I'm divine!). You never hear men using God to describe themselves, unless they are absolute narcissists. Or jerks. Why is it so popular with women, these days...(and almost always used in the same breath as "day spa")?

I clump it with the other over-used, power-fem term: Diva. Both of these suggest the woman in question is strong, attractive, the center-of-attention, and a complete pain-in-the-ass. They seem like excuses for bad behavior (and you know how I feel about that). Reality TV-esque.

Technically, I don't think it's so great to be a goddess, anyway. Your children get kidnapped by underworld gods, your husband sleeps around with humans, you compete in beauty contests that start wars, your followers get cut down in battle. Not a very happy lot. Sure, there's power, but it seems like there's a lot of grief involved, too. I guess that's why they need frequent massages and manicures.

O Divine Readers, maybe you know something this mere mortal does not. Am I misreading this trend? Too old to get it? Taking the whole thing too seriously?

Pray tell.

Signs point to Yes...

2010-03-09T12:55:00.009-06:00

I do love fortune cookies. Not so much the paper inside as the wafer, but I still want to find the information useful. A small bagful costs 79 cents at the store, so I keep them around for times when I need a small sweet and some advice.

While I would like to believe the fortune I got last week, "your future plans will succeed," at the same time, Number-One son got "your strength is in your sophistication"--a 'fortune' he immediately disproved as he ran off to show it to his dad, burping in his little brother's face on the way. This pairing of statements--revealed in the selection of baked goods--seems to suggest randomness, rather than an ability to predict.

However, it is human nature to want to find patterns, to try to discover order from the chaos of nature. Whether it's organizing the stars, tossing bones, looking at goose guts or cracking open cookies, we want a hint at what's to come based on Chance or finding a relationship between seemingly unrelated items. Last week, two ladies in the locker room were fretting about the recent earthquakes and the economy. "It makes you wonder," they said. A Sign from the Gods. Comfort against the Unknown.

(The geologist husband later sniffed, "Earthquakes happen all the time.")

I guess that's where aparigraha comes in. No clinging. We can't know what is going to happen next, so we can't worry about it; no point in wasting energy over things we can't control...especially things that haven't happened yet. Plans could succeed or they could completely fail, but nothing is going to reveal that except time. It's fun to guess at what will happen next, but, instead, we ought to appreciate the current moment.

I'll try. I'm very bad at staying in the present, rather than pondering the future. We'll see how that plan goes. Magic Eight Ball sez...

Tri-ing yoga

2010-03-03T09:34:00.003-06:00

Whew. I am recuperating from a sprint triathlon (swim 1/4 mile, bike 5 miles, run 3 miles) I competed in on Sunday. The decision to train for it was an odd one for me; I tend to avoid really competitive situations that involve tasks I'm not very good at. But I thought the challenge of racing with seasoned athletes would be a good one, the discipline of training a good habit to develop, and I was really interested to see how my yoga practice would contribute to the process.

Obviously the increased flexibility was an aid to recovery, and stretching was key after hard workouts, but it was the mental rigor of yoga that was most useful. Like I said, I'm very competitive--too competitive--and I know that trying to do something new with people who are better than me is very difficult. I had to summon all my powers of concentration to stay focused on my own lane and pace and not get too worked up about who was passing me. Taming that pesky ego while in last place, ug.

Running is the hardest. I plod along gracelessly--pound, pound, pound--and envy those that seem to bound by, light on their feet and sleek as gazelles. So not only did I have to ignore those fleet-of-feet, but I also had to drown out the voices in my head encouraging me to just stop because it's too hard. I repeated to myself, over and over, the instructions I always give my students: just focus on your own body, breath into any tension, relax on the exhale, keep your mind clear and just allow the experience to unfold. A lot easier to tell than do.

But, still, it all helped. I think the discipline you build as you practice comes into play any time you are facing a challenging situation--whether it's one you choose or one that's thrust upon you. It's also why I think asana is key to learning how to focus and quiet negative voices, but it's only a tool for developing mental stamina, rather than the whole point.

How do you learn to clear the mind? I don't know. I'm still thinking about that. Maybe it just sneaks up you while you focus on asana; maybe you have to take time to practice meditation and pranayama; maybe you need to find yourself in a rough spot before you know you can do it (I'd definitely put labor and delivery of my two sons in that category). I don't really remember before and and after yoga, so maybe it's a long, slow process of accumulated experience.

Anyway, as I shop for my next race--Madison Quarter Marathon?--I'm mulling all of this. It's nice that the challenge I'm working on is one of my choosing (and you get a tee shirt when you finish), but I'd like to think I could pull these mental yoga skills out whenever I needed them. However, I'm not sure how I'd advise anyone to develop their own...thoughts?

Tough Stuff

2010-02-20T10:22:00.005-06:00

I will say this about the Olympics, I do like seeing hard work be rewarded. For the most part, those athletes hurling themselves around on the ice and snow have worked really hard to get there, and I appreciate the effort. I'm especially impressed with the women snowboarders, skiers, and hockey players--what a bunch of strong, muscle-y chicks. The New York Times has been covering their training routines (here and here) over the past few weeks, and it's cool to see them in their workout gear running, lifting and--ta da--doing yoga.

And I see their strong, healthy bodies, and read about their determination and how they see themselves as role models for girls, and I think where are yoga leaders who look like that? Who have hips and thighs and meat on their bones and take on the boys at their own game? It's like we get stuck with yoginis who look like willowy figure skaters, fretting about food and starving themselves for their sport, while the winter sports crowd gets these tough gals.

Now, of course, I know yoga is not about surface and appearances; but I also know that that is how it is marketed by the mass media and even by the Yoga Establishment. And we ALL know that these images are pervasive and deeply, deeply damaging. Women have curves, women have babies that stretch out their insides, women have a greater percentage of subcutaneous fat than men. As long as these facts are treated as faults that must be fixed by diet, exercise, and surgery, women will be taught to see their bodies as the enemy, instead of as amazing machines.

I want to focus on the amazing. Bring on the Lindsey Vonns, the Maelle Rickers, the Jenny Potters of yoga! Give me some one that insipres me--who I can identify with, instead of make me feel like I should skip dinner! Where are ya, Sistahs?

Let's develop that brand...

Essence and Intention

2010-02-15T14:25:00.009-06:00

I came of age during the culture wars of the early 1990s. Fresh upon graduating with a B.A. in Art History, I headed to Washington D.C. with an internship at the Hirshhorn Museum of Modern Art. This was the summer of 1991--a month after Tiananmen Square, two months after Senator Jesse Helms went after the National Endowment of the Arts for funding the work of such controversial artists as Andres Serrano and Robert Mapplethorpe. The Corcoran Museum decided to cancel its scheduled summer show of Mapplethorpe, to try and remove itself from the controversy. The DC Arts community rallied together and had protests and parties all over town. Mapplethorpe's work was projected onto the exterior of the Corcoran and the photos in question were displayed at another gallery space in town.

It was a heady time for a young art historian, and many heated discussions were had--Were these photos just pornography? Was "Piss Christ" government-sponsored blasphemy? What do we want the country's art to say about us as a nation? Is this stuff even art, anyway? Congress responded by slashing the NEA's budget, and the question of what is "good" art that deserves state support still challenges us today.

Of course, our "what is/isn't yoga" discussions are nowhere near as loaded or vitriolic. But I've been reminded of the definition I cobbled together back in those days as to what really qualified as art for me. It all goes back to intention--if the piece in question is intended to communicate something to some one else, using an artistic medium as the expressive language, and the communication is relatively successful (whether agreed with or not), then it is art. Art is communication about the human condition--it needs a person with a message, a way to convey the message, and another person to receive it.

This had worked pretty well for me and I think it works for yoga, too. It is the intention behind the action that determines if something can be seen as yoga. If you are approaching an activity with an open mind and clear sense of purpose with the intention of discovering the true essence of the action in question--then it becomes yoga. So a cup of joe?--maybe or maybe not--but if you are coming to that cup of liquid with the intention of savoring it as an experience in and of itself, then I think you could call it yoga. If it's a quick slurp while glancing over your email, probably not.

Why quibble over definitions? Mostly I'm just working this out for myself. I've been puzzling over what I call "my" yoga and if I think that's a legitimate label. Since my exercise in defining art has helped me over the years in my creative endeavors, I figured like to have a way to think about my yoga practice, as well.

And, or course, I love a good discussion and the input I get from all of you out there--it almost always forces me to rethink and reevaluate. So, tell me true, how do define your yoga (if you define it at all...)?

(Robert Mapplethorpe, Derrick Cross, 1985)

Guru Dr. Feelgood ?

2010-02-10T09:21:00.004-06:00

Last week's discussions of yoga as a marketing tool for the Sensory--nicely discussed by Yoga Spy and It's All Yoga, Baby --got me to thinking about the cavalier way we use yoga to describe everyday experiences. It seems to come up all the time--parenting is my yoga, blogging is my yoga, eating a delicious burger is my yoga. I'm as guilty as the next yogi in applying the label of yoga to tasks that are both pleasurable and arduous. Is this legit?

On the one hand, it seems completely logical that an activity that requires close concentration or mindfulness or charity could be considered a part of one's practice. If I don't take a deep breath and turn away from that screeching toddler I am going to throw something or kick the cat. Okay, so it's a rather non-traditional use of pranayama but isn't that the point--being able to call on those skills in times of need? But maybe it's the practice of yoga outside of real life that allows us to survive these situations successfully (as a wise monk once said), and not real life as yoga itself.

What about something lovely and delicious--is eating chocolate yoga? hanging out with friends? the perfect cup of coffee? I think it's good to be able to submerge yourself in an activity and revel in your enjoyment, but is that really practicing yoga or just having a good time?

Perhaps this is just quibbling about semantics, but it seems like we hear it a lot these days. I'm getting suspicious. Is this just a way to paint any experience with a glossy coat of yoga to make it seem more significant or impressive? Maybe we need to celebrate our daily life as its own thing, and keep yoga out of it. Or at least let yoga become a part of how we survive the day-to-day, but not necessarily yoga as an act of survival.

I dunno. I have mixing feelings. I kind of like the idea of *insert activity* as yoga because it makes me feel good about the activity, but it does seem a bit of a cheat. Or maybe not. I'm taking any and all commentary--where do you stand?

That's What I Said...

2010-02-07T16:55:00.003-06:00

...although not so eloquently, perhaps.

In today's NYT, Deborah Solomon interviewed Douglas Coupland, the originator of the term "Generation X." Her interviews usually seem to be edited to make the interviewee come off as a hypocritical demagogue, but Coupland holds up well. He seemed prepared.

This part of the interview caught my attention:

How would you define the current cultural moment? I’m starting to wonder if pop culture is in its dying days, because everyone is able to customize their own lives with the images they want to see and the words they want to read and the music they listen to. You don’t have the broader trends like you used to.

Sure you do. What about Harry Potter and Taylor Swift and “Avatar,” to name a few random phenomena?
They're not great cultural megatrends like disco, which involved absolutely everyone in the culture. Now, everyone basically is their own microculture, their own nanoculture, their own generation.

It reminded me of our discussion of the twilight (in my opinion) of the yogi megastars. I thought his comments, in reference to popular culture, was also relevant to the yoga world. Do you?

"Surviving" Teacher Training

2010-02-04T08:44:00.002-06:00

I owe a debt to Miss S (Yoga, Dogs and Chocolate), for my next My Yoga Mentor article. She did a wonderful post of suggestions for getting thru a teacher training with a minimum of bruised body parts and psyche, uh, parts. With her permission, I snagged the idea, and am in the midst of gathering sources and arranging interviews.

I have a good idea of what I'd like to ask the experts, but I wondered if any of you have some questions you'd like answered. What were some of the challenges you faced in training programs, and would have liked advanced warning about? Or strategies for dealing with them? Anything that came up after you finished?

I'm all ears...or eyes, I guess, since I'm reading the comments!

You see, I was being ironical...

2010-02-02T08:37:00.004-06:00

Apparently, some Christians beat me to the punch. Instead of Yoga Cage Fight , it's "Xtreme Ministries--where feet, fist, and faith collide." Wow, the mind boggles...

(Thanks again, to JRR for the logo)

What I Meant to Say...

2010-01-29T11:12:00.007-06:00

A big thank-you to all the comments on Monday's post. After reflecting on many of them, I think some clarification is due.

I don't think "celebrity yoga" has come close to running its course, unfortunately. What I meant, is that I don't see the A-list yogis (to borrow terminology from Yoga Dawg) being replaced any time soon. That crowd came of age in a time when there was little opportunity for mainstream America (or anywhere else) practice with a qualified teacher. If you weren't near a good-sized city, you had to do yoga with your VCR. These yogis delivered the goods consistently, so you could take an effective class with them every morning in your living room and enjoy a conference class every once and awhile. Anyone interested in yoga had been exposed to their teaching and, as a result, they became famous for their expertise. Thus, A-list.

Not to say that they didn't deserve the attention. And they all use their position for the greater good of the discipline (for the most part), so I don't begrudge them their fame.

But now yoga is everywhere. And everyone wants a piece of the pie. So there are lots of inspiring, wonderful teachers with large followings, but not on the scale of the A-list. That's what I meant. These days, for every calm, clear, student-centered instructor, there seems to be a goofy, overreaching striver who will do anything to get some attention. Market saturation is being reached.

I hope there are some great teachers who do get the national attention they deserve. And I hope the strivers shut up after their 15 minutes and figure out some other fitness trend to exploit. It's a much bigger field now, so there will always be a greater number of notable teachers because of the higher demand and varied audiences. I just wonder if that kind of A-list longevity is still possible...

My wish is that people would realize that and stop shooting for the sun, publicity-wise. Be happy with the attention you do get and the DVDs you do sell and stop pandering to the advertisers and the media that want more skin, more products, more self-loathing. What about focusing on teaching? How's that for a novel idea?

Or better yet, bail on yoga altogether. It seems like the martial arts could use some new spokesmodels--plus that's a better place to jump-start an acting career. Steven Seagal is getting a bit long in the tooth, doncha know...

[If you persist on ignoring my advice, at least pander correctly--with Yoga Dawg's Steps to Yoga Stardom]

The start of something beautiful...?

2010-01-24T13:03:00.004-06:00

I'm going to go out on a limb, here, but I think the days of the Celebrity Yoga Superstars are coming to an end.

Certainly the days of trying-to-make-a-buck-out-of-yoga are still completely with us (see Yoga Inc.), but I think the notion of an iconic Spokesyogi is so very last decade. Sorry gang, I really don't think there is another Shiva/Rodney/Seane/John/David/Gurmuhk out there.

It's not because they're irreplaceable--it's just not the same world that it was in the 1990s, when yoga instructors were few and far between. For a regular practice, you had to turn on the VCR. As we moved through the last two decades, yoga's popularity exploded (look at Roseanne's yoga timeline for the 2000s' developments). By now, almost everybody has access to a yoga class, whether at the nearby YMCA or neighborhood studio or on iTunes. Nobody needs an introduction to yoga, because it's everywhere. And people are getting the word from their friends and relatives about yoga's benefits--they don't need some scrawny, stretchy kids showing off their pincha mayurasana skills to serve as an introduction (like that would make you want to take a yoga class, anyway).

Maybe it's time for the sexy bendies to start focusing on something else besides building up their "brand." Seriously, where will it possibly lead? Even with the support of the yoga industry behind them, the trademarked, merchandised yoga business model doesn't have much of a future. Herding cats, baby. Like every other subculture on the Internet, you can find just about any type of yoga to practice--for Athletes, for Mothers, for Golfers, for Christians (dear god--Son Salutes?). There's no way to build up a critical mass of followers without exhausting yourself shilling shoes and lip gloss, appearing on talk shows (in competition with rock star wives) and, perhaps every once and awhile, teaching a 200-person workshop. You might make some money at first, but it's not sustainable--and are you really helping anyone deepen anything with the headsets and adjustments from assistants?

I say all of this is very, very good. No one should have a monopoly and everyone should have access to the close attention of a trained instructor. I hope the days of the Superstar are over. Those crowded workshops are fun like a rock concert is fun but is anyone really improving their practice during one of those?

I'm not sure what set me off, but it seems like we're heading into the next round of look-at-me/shop-with-me YouTube yoga moments. Maybe it's time to move onto something new.

Friends, it's 2010, let's keep it local and personal. If the foodies can do it, why can't we?!?

(P.S. For re-presentation of some of these points, see 1/29's post..."What I Meant to Say...")

Practice Makes Perfect

2010-01-18T16:03:00.005-06:00

"This is nothing. Right now we are just practicing..." --Bajante Sujatha, Buddhist monk, Blue Lotus Temple.

I attended another installment of the meditation class at Lazy Dog Studio in nearby Roscoe. I hope to make it every month; while I can get myself into a comfortable seated position and hold it for a half a hour, I can barely keep my mind focused for five minutes. Definitely something I need to work on.

I was frustrated this week because, once we began the meditation, I was all over the place. I may have even fallen asleep a few times, because my head tipped forward violently in that way it used to during a boring university lecture. Shades of History of the Renaissance. I tried to exude loving-kindness, but I was off my mindfulness game. However, that frustration dissolved during the discussion after.

Sujatha was talking about how you choose whether to be happy or unhappy about a situation you find yourself in. You can get mad that your airline gate has been changed three times (holiday travel theme), or you can be grateful for a bit of exercise. You have to wait and wander no matter what, but you control your reaction to the disorganization. He reminded us that the most important thing about meditation was being able to apply your mindfulness to the outside world--in class there is nothing to make you angry and you can focus your thoughts without distraction, it's outside the studio where it is really work.

I thought that had a nice to parallel to yoga. Of course, we love the stretch and the strengthening of class, but it is all just "practice" for our real lives. Yamas and Niyamas and all that. Your real yoga is how you live your life and let that stress relief and centering carry over into the times when you'd rather be tense and grouchy. Drop those shoulders. Take a deep breath.

So, I have to work on those fluctuations while meditating, but I feel pretty good about my ability to pull out the quiet mind when I need it. Just not in class...and, therefore, I have to practice.

Aaahhh, much better

2010-01-15T13:59:00.003-06:00

Well, that took forever. I finally updated my blog layout and links, something I've been meaning to do for months--nay, years--but never had a morning in which to do it. Friday opened up, and I really wanted to cross this off my long-term to-do list, so here it is. Cleaner, hopefully easier to read, and more 21st-century/second-decade. Bring it up to date, sister!

It was fun trying to think of an image for the header. What's the perfect picture to signify yoga? An ohm symbol? Something India-ish? Marigolds? Vrksasana (which seems to be the quintessential symbol of yoga in advertising)? How does one depict energy, calmness, strength, peace, vitality, longevity? I came up with water. Blood seemed good, too, but I wasn't sure a picture of that would be particularly soothing. (Thanks to my bro-in-law for his photo of the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of England)

What's your perfect yoga image?

Leaving the Biz (for an afternoon...)

2010-01-11T21:01:00.007-06:00

They say that once you start working in the Biz (Show Biz, that is), you will never just watch a play or movie again. Unless the production is mind-bogglingly great, you will always notice an unfastened hook, a weird lighting shadow, an inconsistent sound cue, or an awkward blocking choice. Since it's your job to reveal the script in costume, set design, action or words, you watch all other attempts to do the same. Usually with a critical eye. Which isn't to say you can't enjoy the production, but you are always aware of what's going on behind the scenes.

The same could be said of teaching yoga. At least for me. While I enjoy the practice and being released of any responsibility to other students, I'm almost always watching. How is the teacher handling adjustments? How is his/her form? What's the energy of the space? How are the students responding? Can I remember that sequence for my class? The fluctuations of the mind usually aren't too calm.

That is, unless the teacher is mind-bogglingly great.

I went back to a teacher I really, really like in Madison today (Nicky Plaut). I had taken a few of her classes almost five years ago, but have been very much out of the habit of going to a regular yoga class. One resolution for this year was to get back into some one else's studio and revisit student-hood. How nice to be in the hands of a teacher with decades of experience and a quiet, forceful presence. What a good reminder that Virabhadrasana I and Bujangasana and Setu Bandha Sarvangasana can be very, very difficult poses--no need for bells and whistles and show-offy arm balances. My legs are killing me!

And for an hour and half I found myself in the place of a true student--following directions, being adjusted, depending on my breath to get me through a pose, and being grateful to some one with more experience for my practice. What a nice feeling to be back out of the Biz for awhile...

What is The Thing?

2010-01-04T13:12:00.004-06:00

With each passing year (Happy New Year, btw), and each passing job, I've come to realize that--with humans--the Thing is never really about the Thing. An angry toddler isn't mad that you gave him apple juice, he's mad that he feels woozy after a really long nap. A theatre director doesn't really hate a particular costume, he just can't get that actor to stop messing with his hands. You don't really hate that guy in his S.U.V., you just don't like being cut off in traffic (and the subsequent feelings of being out of control of your environment).

I am a big believer in Socrates' maxim that "an unexamined life is not worth living." (Therefore, I blog?) I think it's important to take a closer look at why you have made certain decisions or taken specific actions. Especially if that activity makes you sad or angry. Something is going on and it's probably a lot deeper than the incident that sparked those reactions. Do you really think that grocery checker wanted you to have bruised bananas?

With all the resolving going on these days--what with the new year and new decade and all--I came across a interesting excercise in John Mora's Triathlon 101 (more on that project later), to help determine why you decide to pursue a certain goal. He suggests you start a list of reasons for why you are doing something, maybe 5 items or so, and then keep coming back to the list and try to come up with 50 different reasons. By really thinking about your motivations, you get closer to the true reason you are doing something and also can deepen your resolve to see it through (or, perhaps, you'll see that the activity isn't such a good idea after all and should be let go).

See what you come up with...sometimes the big, overall reason is obviously #1; sometimes the true rationale for change is more sneaky. Why do we decide to "resolve" anyway, especially if it's the same resolution every year (and, therefore, never achieved)? Maybe it's time to tweak the goal or even discard it. OR, better yet, by looking at what you are trying to change, you will discover what you really want to do and can set that as your goal.

Anyway, I thought it was an intriguing exercise. I hope you all (in the Northern Hemisphere) are keeping warm--I resolve to go put on another layer...

Re-gifting

2009-12-21T14:05:00.006-06:00

I've started attending a monthly meditation class at Lazy Dog Studio in Roscoe, Il. The owner, Rachel Bixby, has been inviting a Buddhist monk to lead the class each month. (Check the website for next year's schedule) I decided that I needed a bit more mindfulness in my life, and this seemed like a good place to start.

Wonderful. This weekend's class was led by Bhante Sujatha, of Blue Lotus Temple, and it was truly a joy to participate. He started with a short talk and then followed with a half-hour of metta (loving-kindness) meditation. It was simple and basic, but spending a half hour just thinking good thoughts about my family, friends, and *gulp* humankind was a great way to stop and appreciate. Just sitting on the floor for half and hour was killer, and I'm starting to understand the idea of "yoga as a way to prepare the body for meditation." At eight minutes, I had to rearrange my blanket and myself against the wall because I can't sit unsupported for any longer than that. Whew.

Sujatha had such a nice message for the season, too. He reminded us that most of the stress from the holiday season comes from expectations; stop expecting and you will be much happier, or at least calmer. He said, "If you give a gift, then it must go away."--meaning that if you are truly giving, then you must not care about how the gift is received, whether happily, indifferently, or with disappointment. You can only control your own feelings about the gift, but nobody else's. Giving is a wonderful thing, and that you are giving is what you must take pleasure in. What happens after that, is not for you to worry about. (Unless you're giving Play-Doh, as I am, in which case you have a lot to worry about after that gift is opened...)

So, I want to pass that message on to you, as my Christmas gift: Enjoy the acts of giving this season and stop there. That you are able to gather something together and offer it to some one else is a beautiful gesture. Be happy that you can do that. May your giftees be gracious, but, if they're not, it's not your problem.

And if your giftees are armed with Play-doh, well, be grateful that it's machine-washable. Happy Holidays!

The Secret to Flexibility...

2009-12-17T14:20:00.008-06:00

What do you get if you cross an elephant and a rhinoceros? Elifino!
Har, har.
I have been trying to add an aerobic element to my weekly exercise; I'm not ready for running, yet, so I've been using the elliptical machine three times a week. Post-workout, I do a few stretches for the legs to loosen everything. I gotta say, sometimes it's nice to use asana for purely physical reasons, no measured breathing, no turning inward, just letting the work of the muscles be the only work.

Sometimes the chosen pose--usually gomukhasana-gets the attention of fellow gym-goers so (as long as I'm in a good mood) I can use the moment for a bit of yoga-promotion. Pressed for details, I will go so far as to invite the curious to one of my classes. Spreading the word, if you will (*gasp*).

A couple of times I've traded pleasantries with a very strong, muscle-bound fellow. Yesterday, he called out, "So, Yoga Lady, what's the secret to getting more flexible?" Hmmm, teachable moment, thought I. So I chatted with him for a bit about not pushing past a muscle's capability, but allowing the body to open with the breath; listening to what's too much and backing off a bit when the muscle starts to resist a stretch; coming to class (of course); not getting mad when you can't do the same thing as your 17-yr-old body did in Tai Kwon Do.

I'm starting to see more students in class with the express purpose of increasing flexibility, which is nice. Maybe we've starting to move beyond tight, hards bodies (a little bit). I figure getting them in the room is the biggest hurdle and then I can slowly let yoga work its magic. If they stick it out, they increase flexibility...and often pick up some other skills in the process.

But, the Secret to Flexibility, in 25 words or less? Uhhh, hell if I know.

(For more animal mash-ups, click here)

Yoga for Pain Relief

2009-12-14T12:42:00.003-06:00

My first contact with Kelly McGonigal was in 2006, when I interviewed her for an article in Yoga Journal's My Yoga Mentor about her online yoga course Open Mind, Open Body. We chatted for a half an hour about yoga and the Internet; I was impressed with her intelligence, thoughtfulness and how she had combined her love of yoga with her scholarship. A number of times I've turned to her for suggestions or contacts for other articles and she has always been generous with her information.

Here's my opportunity to return the favor. Last week Kelly contacted me to see if I was interested in participating in the "blog tour" for her latest book, Yoga for Pain Relief: Simple Practices to Calm Your Mind and Heal Your Pain. I decided to talk with her about the process of writing; so many of us have free-lance writing gigs, blogs, etc., I thought it would be interesting to hear about the discipline required in putting together a whole book.

So, without further ado, here are some of Kelly's thoughts:

How did you come to write this book?
The publisher reached out to me and asked if I was interested in writing a book applying mind-body practices and psychology. The catch was, they wanted it to be a book for a specific problem, such as depression or heart disease, which is not how I usually teach (or think!).

I sat down and made two lists: all of the key messages in my teaching (e.g. “befriend your body,” “your mind is in your body, not separate from your body”), and the populations/problems I work with most often in my teaching. I ended up choosing pain because I have been working with pain sufferers for 10 years, have suffered from chronic pain myself, and every key message in my teaching applies to pain.

But the whole time I was writing the book, I was aware that pain was an opportunity to communicate ideas that apply to all forms of suffering, physical, emotional, or spiritual.

Did you have a reader in mind as you wrote?
I had two readers in mind— (1) a specific woman I know who is in her mid-fifties, suffers from chronic headaches and back pain, and is a little intimidated by yoga, and (2) a yoga teacher who is interested in yoga as therapy, but hasn’t been exposed to what it can look like when adapted to individuals.

It was a bit tricky to walk the line. For example, a number of readers with pain have told me they found the science chapter interesting but challenging. Yoga teachers, on the other hand, think it's the best chapter in the book. My publisher had another key audience in mind—healthcare providers. I decided that I would write directly to the person suffering, in language that hopefully healthcare providers could connect to.

The whole writing and editing process, I had three words written on a piece of paper to guide my choices about what to include and how to say it: compassionate, authoritative, and encouraging. When in doubt, I asked if this section, sentence, or study supported those three goals. For example, I ended up cutting a section summarizing research on how pain medications sensitize the nervous system to pain. It was fascinating from a scientific perspective, but I realized it would be too discouraging to people who need pain medications to get through the day. I was thrilled when early readers, including my editors, used the word “compassionate” to describe the voice of the book.

Was it challenging to write a book in six months?
I had heard from other writers that once you have a contract signed, you go through a crisis of confidence. I really didn’t think this would happen to me, since I had picked a topic I’d been writing and teaching about for so long. But sure enough, I had my ugly doubts. It hits you like a car accident—out of nowhere, and totally disorienting.

I’ll tell you what helped: during the writing process, I ended up having a minor surgery with a painful recovery process. I used the pain relief techniques I was writing about to deal with it. The pain paradoxically made me feel better! It reminded me of the power of the techniques. How comforting a mantra meditation is, or how a restorative yoga pose can give you the sense that you are taking care of yourself. I think it would have been a different book if I hadn’t been suffering during the writing process. I felt vulnerable because of the pain, and I hope that vulnerability comes across in the book as a kind of compassion or authenticity.

I’m also an editor, so I could have edited the book for another three years. I never would have been satisfied with it. Even after my publisher had signed off on drafts of the first few chapters, I completely rewrote them. Literally started from scratch with the most research-heavy chapter, “Understanding Your Pain.” So it was good to have a real deadline and just turn it over to the publisher.

Dem Bones

2009-12-10T12:54:00.004-06:00

While waiting for his little brother's nap to end, Eamonn and I sat watching old Pink Panther cartoons. In one, Pink was being chased around and into a grandfather clock by a skeleton haunting an abandoned hotel. After much smashing and crashing in the body of the clock, the two emerged and Pink whacked the skeleton, rendering him a jumbled pile of bones. With a world-weary sigh, Eamonn commented, "Well, that's what happens to skeletons." Spoken as a five-year-old who has seen it all, as far as cartoon verities go.

It got me to thinking about how we learn these cultural axioms: if some one runs off a cliff he won't realize it until he looks down; when you start running there is a boo-ga-dee, boo-ga-dee sound until your legs generate enough speed to take off; dogs hate cats; the tinkling run of a backward scale on a xylophone means a skeleton is disintegrating. They become safe reference points to guide us through the treachery of childhood.

Same with teaching yoga--you learn your sequences, the best way to teach a pose, basic modifications--and you head out on your merry way to change the world. But, like a pre-teen realizing that culture norms are a good thing to rebel against, a more experienced teacher starts to let go of the static and, perhaps, begins to experiment. How would a different arrangement of poses affect a class? Help some students understand the alignment better? Make a more comfortable forward bend?

In all our discussions of authentic yoga and teaching, we only barely touched on dealing with asana. We cited lots of texts to consider and traditions to uphold, but we didn't go very far into the physical. More superficial, perhaps, but still a very vital part of the practice to a majority of us.

I love to modify. All of this stems from a class I taught a few weeks ago, where I tried to make Surya Namaskara more palatable for an older group of students. Basically we came to standing in between each pose, so everyone could regain their balance before moving on. And they loved it and many came up to me after class thanking me for teaching a Sun Salute they could finally do. Was that wrong? It certainly wasn't Ashtangi (not that I ever pretended to be one), but it reached a lot more people than it would have otherwise.

So I want to know--how do you feel about asana? Do you feel at ease modifying poses for your students on the fly? Do you go with what you already know, or do you experiment? Is experimenting allowed in your style of yoga? Is there something that you would consider going "too far"? Is this another "hands-off-the-tradition" situation, or something more maleable?

Does your skeleton defiantly pick up his skull and keep running, or not?

Taking Yoga to the Mat

2009-12-06T10:19:00.010-06:00

Last night we ate at my favorite neighborhood tacqueria. Usually the wide-screen TV is tuned to conjunto music videos, but yesterday some one different won the coin-toss and they were broadcasting a mixed-martial arts contest. I tried to look away, but my eyes were drawn to the grappling, barefoot men; I did a double-take at the logo on one fellow's short that included the letters MMA, which I mis-read as "NAMASTE." A thought occurred to me:

Since we're dispensing with inner peace in exchange for competition, glistening bodies and corporate endorsement, anyway...let's go for the jugular: YOGA CAGE MATCH! Think of the advertising, the energy, the untouched demographic we could get! Everyone is already barefoot! Kapalabhati breathing until some one bleeds--holding Parsvakonasana despite a knee to the quads--Virabhasdrasana III until a contestant taps out--can you think of anything more exciting?!?!

An Olympics bid is for sissies! Who cares about 100 vs 5000 yr.s ago--what's more elemental than hand-to-hand combat yoga? This is Cain-and-Abel time, Baby!

Who should I approach for sponsorship, first--Red Bull or Lululemon?

Where's the Oprah of Yoga?

2009-12-02T11:00:00.003-06:00

Ah, yes, the Yoga Star Hot Scale. Leave it to Yoga Dawg to help us laugh instead of cry. It got me to thinking, with all the chatter about skinny white yoginis as the face of yoga and "spreading the word" and endorsement deals and yoga competitions--what do students want?

Kristin, of Namaste from Duluth, posted that query a few months back when we were discussing "American False Idols" and I wanted to get back to that thought. As more and more ex-models and actresses and dancers get into the teaching act, and corporations choose whippet-thin bodies to hawk their yoga wares, I get frustrated. For me, for potential students, for everyone who can't touch their foot to their head or has a non-European family history but studies yoga. Is this really what we want yoga to look like? (I'm not questioning teaching credentials--I'm talking about an image, here).

What I want, and what I suspect many practitioners want, is not a teacher to admire or be awed by (lust after? be jealous of?), but a teacher that inspires and gives you the feeling that you can attain. The yoga industry, such as it is, is missing a huge opportunity here. Why is Oprah such a phenomenon? Because she presents herself as one of the crowd--some one who has been around the block a few times and has weaknesses and enthusiasms and overdoes it once and awhile. (Obviously, most of us will never be Oprah, but you know what I mean.)

That's what I want in a teacher. Some one who has a sense of the human condition, who has had to work for what she's earned. Some one whose talents seem within reach. I want some one more experienced than me, who can guide me, but also some one who offers a vision of what--with practice--I could be some day. Strong, peaceful, dignified. I don't really care what lip gloss she uses...I want her vibe.

Kripalu has figured it out. Their ads show students of all sizes and races, peacefully engaged in Sukhasana or Tadasana, and it gives you a feeling of calm centeredness. To me, it's an honest depiction of what a yogi should look like--focused, a smile playing on the lips, a lifetime of sustainable practice evidenced in a healthy body.

Seriously, marketing to kids is a fools' game. If we really want to "spread the word," let's show who yoga has helped, who is still figuring it out, who can't do Bakasana to save his life but can nail Trikonasana. Let's talk about the mental benefits instead of just the physical. Let's honor the flexibility of the average backbone. This isn't Cirque du Soleil, people, it's real life!

Expand Your Reach

2009-11-30T16:19:00.003-06:00

I hope you all had a lovely holiday (those of you celebrating Thanksgiving in November). I was so distracted with side dishes and a full belly, I missed the release of my latest article for Yoga Journal's My Yoga Mentor: "Expand Your Reach." It's about teaching yoga online, which is a really interesting proposition--no adjustments or close contact, but a ton of other ways to teach at your fingertips. In addition to some interviews with online teachers, I included several tools you can use to help set up your own site. I'm really interested to see how all of this develops, because there are a lot of exciting distance-learning examples out there in other disciplines. How will yogis take advantage of the Internet?

If you already have something going on, or need encouragement to start your own podcast, Jamie Kent of Yoga Downloads, noted that her site allows teachers to link their own classes, if they are up to snuff (so to speak). The link gives more information...

Sometimes a Cigar is just a Cigar...but most of the time it isn't

2009-11-23T14:04:00.002-06:00

This was kinda fun. A facebook friend was looking for interviews for an article on messy/neat couples and, since she is a marriage therapist, she couldn't recommend any of her clients. So I sent her my contact info, because I though it sounded like an amusing project to think about. The journalist contacted me, I told some stories (with the husb.'s permission, of course) and there you are. One of my mother's neighbors ran a fresh copy of the Wall Street Journal over to their house, as soon as she read it. Fame in Ames, Iowa.

It's a light-hearted look, but some of the couples scared me a bit. I scared myself, remembering the rage that led to two less martini glasses, lo those many years ago (I plead as charged, but my defense was grad school stress). What is it about being a part of a couple that gives you (one) a sense of invincibility? You couldn't really get away with crushing your best friend's sunglasses on purpose, or throwing away your co-worker's clothing, or *gulp* distroying your roommate's cocktailware. At least not more than once. You'd get voted off the island.

And yet, with our best beloved we misbehave. Is it a holdover from childhood? Your parents have to love you no matter what and, since they're not around, you look to the next greatest love? Is it that you feel safe to overreact? That your passions are greater and emotions are felt more strongly that you act like a spoiled brat without fear of major repercussions?

It's interesting to think about because, probably, we have all taken our significant other for granted and not been the best partner. Maybe that is the security built into a strong, lasting relationship--that most transgressions will be forgiven to maintain the partnership. Like the article says, usually the problem isn't dirty socks on the floor, anyway, but something bigger.

Still, as adults, I wonder why we allow ourselves to be that childish. Especially since, at some point, there may be a trangression that is unforgiveable. Goodbye island.

I'm much better about cleanliness, now that I've been beaten down by two tykes far messier than JRR. They say you get the kids that you deserve and I suspect the gods looked down six years ago, chuckled, and said, "Check this fussy chick out. Let's send her a couple of sons." So, I try not to get mad and ignore the Legos and Hot Wheels strewn about. Plus we have a lot more plastic dishes, so knocking them off the counter would just be noisy but not particularly dramatic.

Whadaya think, armchair psychologists? With the holidays soon upon us, this issue could come up more times than we'd like. What's the consensus? Security? Regression? The desire for new glassware?

Yuck.

2009-11-19T13:14:00.002-06:00

Here we go again with the Choudhurys and their never-ending quest to popularize Birkram yoga: not that this information on their Olympic quest is anything new. If you haven't heard by now, they are trying to get yoga to be included as an Olympic sport. Just asana, of course--lots of lithe, bendy yogis touching their feet to their heads. The article notes that contestants are judged on strength, flexibility, alignment, difficulty of the optional poses and overall execution, but not their spirituality.

If you just boil it down to asana without any kind of inner reflection, then isn't it just floor exercise? Gymnastics is already an Olympic sport, so the ancient Greeks beat the Choudhurys to the punch. By about 2,786 years.

Bela Karolyi, you can sleep easy...

The Toe as Tail?

2009-11-16T14:16:00.003-06:00

Still doing some housecleaning--next on the to-do list is sort out the links list and even, gasp, update my template. This turquoise green number is getting awfully dated-looking. Old School, and not in a good way.

But first, I'm freshly returned from Minneapolis, where I spent the whole weekend with modern dancers and--by extension--their bare feet. This was actually a costume design project for a fundraiser for the Peace House school in Tanzania. But feet were unshod and I was looking to answer my questions about toe mobility. There certainly was plenty of evidence for the benefits of working without shoes to strengthen the feet.

As I watched the dancers balance and spin, adjusting the weight of a body on a foot by moving the third toe or stretching all toes apart to provide a more stable base, I was impressed by the awareness each student had throughout her whole foot. I watched them when they were getting their notes after rehearsal, and still their feet were constantly in motion--not big movements, but subtle adjustments and shifting. Even during the dance, in a moment of pause, a toe would wiggle here or lift there, in anticipation of the next move.

It made me think of days bygone in summer school classes. If a teacher was particularly boring, or an un-airconditioned classroom was particularly warm, my mind would wander and I often studied my fellow summer schoolers' feet (in those days, in horrid fascination). What was so amusing was how much their toes would move around when they were just sitting there. It was almost as if toes took on the unconscious movement that a tail would make, if we still had one.

I don't know, maybe every movement of a tail is purposeful, but it seems like sometimes my cats just switch or "tap" their tails because they aren't doing anything else with it. Is that what happens with toes in a loose, comfortable shoe? A little expenditure of energy because nothing else is really moving? It's hard to check on yourself, since as soon as you think about your toes, you are aware of their actions...but sneak a peak at some one nearby (trickier, these days, if you're in a hemisphere with late fall)--maybe in class, or watching television at night.

Thoughts? Any experts on toes (or tails, for that matter)? I hadn't thought about the toe-tail thing for awhile, but now I'm on a bender. I guess it's a good thing feet don't gross me out any more...

Super-Late Link Love...

2009-11-09T20:27:00.006-06:00

Gracious, this is woefully overdue. I sincerely apologize to everyone that has posted a link to GTTSB and hasn't received a shout-back yet. Hopefully I caught you on this list, but if I didn't, please let me know and I'll do another list in a week or so. There's a lot of good stuff out there, these days. A wide variety of themes, experiences and tones...which is kind of nice. I feel like one of the (sorta) Old Ladies of Blog (since 2006, Baby!) and it's been fun to watch this whole community grow.

In no particular order...
Yogini with a Twist Tina is doing slackline yoga, now! An strong, honest voice in the yoga blog world. Nice sequences, too.
Highs and Lows of a Suburban Yogini Some reasoned thinking about yoga from Across the Pond. Rachel has a nice personal discussion of her practice, life and other non-yoga projects.
The Devil Wears Prana Michelle offers tidbits of yoga wisdom, interviews, food for thought sprinkled with lovely pictures of her practice.
Yoga for Cynics Dr. Jay has a sly way with a turn of phrase...not cynical, exactly, but not one to suffer fools gladly, either. Beautiful photos.
Yogic Muse Brooks Hall shares her observations on her practice and her own habits, with good suggestions for dealing with it all.
Kitty This eco-chick offers several blogs on makeup, household products, etc. so her's a link to her profile...browse for yourself for some great suggestions of brands to try, strategies to adopt.
Yoga in my School Donna offers a very comprehensive site on teaching to kids, how to approach poses, and more.
Yoga Spy A truthful, gimlet-eyed look at yoga and the yoga culture here in the US.
Yoga Demystified Bob is everywhere, these days. Check out his latest push for "Yobo" and "Ratra"--dude can brand yoga faster than a Kapalabhati exhale!
It's All Yoga, Baby Roseanne has a keen eye for yoga controversies and hypocrisies...the discussions are thrilling. Check out the massive back-and-forth that came after her posts about Addidas yoga.
elephant journal This online magazine out of Boulder, CO covers a lot of eco-topics, but the yoga articles are very interesting and also get a lot of feedback. It also solicits articles from readers, if you are a writer and want some exposure.
Petals Yoga An upbeat report from Portland, OR.
Random Thoughts Just what it says it is...but it's a nice selection of observations from an Indian in the US--especially on the "my yoga is better than your yoga" debate.
Yoga Dork A close look at yoga developments from NYC. Lately lots of giveaways, too.
Enlightenment Ward A breathtakingly comprehensive list of Buddhist sites out there. And a tad snarky, which is fun. I'm meaning to take more time with this site because of all the new stuff (and I was having trouble keeping up with the yoga blogosphere...).

[Oof, now I know why I get so far behind in these lists...they take a lot of time. I'm going to stick with this all week, so give me a couple of days to catch everyone and update my page.]

Toe-ing the line...

2009-11-04T10:26:00.007-06:00

Okay, dancer costumes delivered, YJ article edited...I think I'm ready for extracurricular writing again. Thank you for your patience.

I've been thinking about feet. As yogis, don't we all. The choreographer I am working with commented on how she could identify all of her dancers just by looking at a picture of their feet. At first I thought that was remarkable, but then I realized that I could probably do the same thing with my students with fairly accurate results. Where do you start when checking how someone is grounding in balance poses? The feet...and with that you see who polishes, who trims, who has bunions, who has an extra-long second toe, etc etc. Very personal, these appendages.

Feet used to completely gross me out (still not crazy about dirty toenails), but now I find them rather amazing--as I've said before. This article in last week's NYT Science section confirmed my fascination with the mechanics of the foot. But it didn't answer a question I've been pondering for years...what happens to mobility and flexibility to the toes?
I often do this sequence early in a a session, to get people thinking about their toes:

[Stand in Tadasana (Mountain Pose). Lift all your toes at once, and feel the rest of the foot settle into your mat. Now lower just the big toes. Now lift the big toes and just lower the little toes. Now lower the big toes, but keep all the toes in between lifted. Is this easy or hard? You can help yourself a bit, by mimicking the actions of the toes with the fingers (I don't know why this helps, but it does). Now lower all toes, so that each one has its own space to settle and notice how much more solid your stance is.]

I've noticed that it's extremely difficult for most people to move their toes individually. Is it shoes? Muscle development? Toe length? Both my boys (2 and 5) can drum their toes as if playing the piano, but it seems that few people over the age of 10 can barely isolate the big toe from the rest. I can, but I've spent a lot of time working on it. Do toes have the potential of fingers at birth, but the neural pathways are never built?

What do you think/know? It seems that having flexible, isolate-able toe movement would be something to work for--better balance, stronger feet and ankles--but is it something that is lost forever? How do you get it back? I will watch the modern dancers at our next dress rehearsal, because I suspect they have to be expressive down to each bare toe...

What ever happened to Dignity?

2009-10-22T15:34:00.004-05:00

To me, dignity seems a noble goal. If you carry yourself with dignity, you present yourself with self-assurance and self-respect; you take your cues from within. You move with a sureness and calmness that suggests you are at peace with yourself and your choices (this is starting to sound like a facebook fortune). At least, this is how I see it.

I got to thinking about dignity when I was listening to an interview with economist Charles Kinney on NPR yesterday. He was talking about how access to television has moved women's rights forward in many third-world countries because of empowering stories on soap operas, etc. That may be the case in Brazil and Saudi Arabia, but TV in this country seems to have turned everyone into external validation junkies.

What is it with the "look at me, look at me! I'll do anything if you pay me/if you record me" all the time?!?! Remember when humiliating reality TV was eating a sheep's eyeball on Fear Factor? Now people expose their bodies, their habits, their families, their addictions, their souls in a constant, desperate attempt to get any producer's attention. I'm thinking, of course, of those pitiful parents in Colorado, who hid their six-year-old and told him to lie when they launched their balloon in order to get themselves another reality series (as if Wife Swap wasn't enough fame and adulation).

You would think yoga would be the perfect antidote for this insecurity. And yet even the yoga community seems full of practitioners keen on branding themselves and selling yoga shoes to "help spread the word"--as if the word wasn't spreading just fine on its own without a lot of pictures of hot, young bodies doing arm balances.

Didn't anyone's parents pay enough attention to them when they were kids?

So here's my idea: let's bring dignity back! Let's celebrate quiet satisfaction and inner peace. Let's value thinking and contemplation and shed the childish demands for attention. Cool it with the material desires...get internal!

How's that sound...anyone with me?

So You Think You Can Teach...

2009-10-15T16:30:00.002-05:00

I'm surrounded by Eggheads. Professional Eggheads. Of my immediate relatives, there are seven Ph.Ds, five Masters' degrees, four university positions, at least one emeritus professorship, as well as publications, honors, titles, chairmanships, etc etc. This is a crowd that takes its education seriously. You can see why I get hung up on qualifications and trainings. I tear up during "Pomp and Circumstance."

With all the talk about "authentic" yoga, and asana teachers as fitness instructors and who should be teaching, and who is making a mockery of the whole discipline, I wonder, "What makes you think you can teach?" It's sounds like I'm being cheeky and rhetorical, but, honestly, I want to know.

If one has a solid, standard training--say six months to a year--meeting over weekends and learning all the asana, how to sequence them, modifications, a discussion of philosophy and history, maybe learning a bit of pranayama, student teaching--what is s/he really qualified to teach? To me, it seems, like s/he is ready to lead students through a safe, carefully-considered Hatha Yoga class. But, what about beyond that?

Yoga Alliance requires 20 (30 hr.s total) contact hours of instruction in yoga philosophy, yoga lifestyle and ethics for the 200 hr. R.Y.T. designation. The program is heavily weighted to asana, altho the techniques, training, and practice section (100 hrs.) includes kriya, mantras and meditation, evenly weighted between technique and teacher training. So how much time does that really leave for the spritual elements of yoga? And I'm not saying that this is a bad mix, but just that it's not a lot of time left for non-asana.

I suppose there is self-study to familiarize yourself with the texts most traditions refer to, but does that do anything beyod expand your own awareness? Does close-reading really prepare you to deal with your students' issues? Does reading the Bible make you a minister? Does investigating the Freudian canon make you qualified to psychoanalyze?

I think it's great to provide students with a context for their asana practice; to show them that Hatha is just one part of a much larger system. But this is as far as I go, because I just don't feel like I am qualified go beyond a simplified definition and explantion of the yamas and niyama or the other seven limbs. Do you?

I really want to know...how do other trainings prepare a teacher to go beyond asana? How much time did you spend on the spiritual aspects of yoga in your preparation to be a teacher? Are we really teaching it or giving lip-service to the rest of the discipline so that we're not "just" fitness instructors?

I've been thinking about this a lot and this is why I ask. What do you think: are we really qualified to teach this stuff or should it be left to the counselors, ministers, monks, and therapists?

American False Idols

2009-10-08T18:01:00.003-05:00

Oh man, are there some juicy discussions going on out there in the yoga blogosphere(yogaspy, it's all yoga, baby, YogaChickie). I've been hanging back, without commenting, trying to decide what I think and I'm a little late to the conversation, but here goes.

What seems to be the general theme floating around these postings and the resultant commentary is what we--in the West--expect of our teachers, and what they see as their responsibility to us. What's really interesting to me is why these issues and expectations around the yoga student-teacher relationship seem so loaded and emotional. Are these really our spiritual leaders we're talking about? Someone invested in our mental well-being and development, who will let us down and disappoint us they turn out to exhibit human frailties? Why do some teachers encourage this kind of dependence?

Aside from a handful of senior teachers, aren't most people teaching primarily asana? Or at least, isn't this what most teachers are qualified to teach, without a lot of extra training in religion or counseling or psychotherapy? Why would you expect your yoga teacher to have any idea how to handle your spiritual development aside from leading a few chants or focused breathing exercises? Why would a teacher presume to be able to?

Am I mistaken? Does my role as a yoga teacher suggest I owe my students more than an effective sequence of poses and explanation to help create awareness of their own bodies? I don't want to be responsible for anyone else's spiritual life but my own. My classes are not hot or sweaty or competitive, but I never go beyond the basic physical aspect of the asana. If chemicals are released in the brain (and I suspect that they are) that calm my students and make them feel more satisfied or happy or mindful, that's great, but I would never tell them to interpret it as anything more than that.

Would you? Am I missing something?

Life Lessons from a Fishtank

2009-10-01T16:11:00.003-05:00

As you know (or maybe you don't), we now have fish. Plural. We bought a Chinese Golden Algae Eater to clean up the tank and to keep Hot Wheels company. I know, they can be rough on goldfish, but so far everyone has enough food and space, and the only inhabitant getting harrassed is the snail (cuz he's been a bit mossy).

So, it was time to move onto interior decorating. One benefit of a geologist husband is I have a go-to guy for aquarium rocks that are fish-friendly and won't leach anything into the water or dissolve, etc. So we assembled a lovely tower of specimens and then transferred it into the tank to give everyone something to swim under and hang out one. Generally, just liven up the joint.

I knew it would be a bit traumatic for the fishes to have a pile of granite introduced into their space, but I figured they'd get over it. Well, all the finned inhabitants of our tank fluttered around the edges of the tank for hours, speeding past the rocks occasionally, without a second look.

Apple Snail (whether he is one or not, is still under debate, but this is now his name) sat quietly for about 10 minutes and then glacially, majestically sidled up to the sculpture to check it out. He stretched out of his shell the farthest I've ever seen to touch the rocks with his feelers and foot and then gracefully hoisted himself onto the rocks to continue his exploration.

How cool, how relaxed, how in control of the situation. In my habit of anthropomorphizing everything, I decided that this was a lovely example of how to deal with change. Approach with deliberate caution, check the situation out, explore thoroughly and embrace. I have never seen this snail from so many different angles as his cruised around his rocks. The other fish had come to terms with them by morning, but were still a bit flighty and suspicious (anthropo. again).

So I keep A.S. in mind. Something is always coming out from left field and I think I could learn a few things from a snail, my new, slimy role model. (And a bit less mossy, too, thanks to CGAE--called Nolo after a Hot Wheels Acceleracers character.)

The End of Overscheduling (yeah, right!)

2009-09-27T18:14:00.004-05:00

It's always bittersweet when a job ends. You no longer see people, but you don't have to deal with the annoying ones anymore. You stop participating in certain activities, but you have time for others. It's a big disruption to the routine, but it's an opportunity to start something new.

I recently stepped away from a project that I was throwing myself into, but just couldn't keep up with, both energy- and emotion-wise. So I went against type and decided to quit rather than just keep limping along--it was time for a break. Guess what, the first night after that I had the best sleep in weeks. Hmmm.

All of a sudden I feel like I can focus, and the other projects that were only getting 30% attention (perhaps I should say, non-mommy attention), get boosted up to 50%. What's the point of over-extending, if everything gets short shrift...and I get tension headaches and can't sleep and am a real pill to live with.

The plate has been slightly cleared. Sitting there quietly to the side, was my dear friend Yoga, just waiting for me to get over this crazy urge to cure this country's bad eating habits and get back to business. So now I am thinking about the next chapter--a certification? a retreat? more writing? more blog?

Anyway, here's my challenge to you: take a look at your schedule and see if there's anything that can go. Surely there's something that is keeping you awake and could probably do without your brilliant contributions. Just think how much your other projects will thrive with that additional percentage point of attention. What's been quietly waiting for you to satisfy the urge?!?

Now I just have to finish the Yoga Journal article...

Neti, sweet Neti

2009-09-19T14:54:00.006-05:00

Jen, of McSmithleyville asked the timely question: "I wonder if your readers have any thoughts on adjustments given that flu & cold season is approaching. One of the universities I teach at has documented cases of H1N1 flu and it makes me wonder if I should be "hands off" for the season, or longer?"

And just like that I, too, was laid low with the bug. I don't know if it's H1N1 (in deference to the pork producers in my home state of Iowa), but it's definitely respiratory and they say there is widespread flu activity in 21 states and almost all of it has tested as H1N1. So there you go.

On the plus side, it mostly seems like a really aggressive cold. The down side is now the boys are starting to droop...two weeks ahead of the vaccination. Sigh.

Here's what I'm doing:
1. Cancelled all my classes, so as not to be a vector. Plus, I had no energy to teach, anyway. For next week, I think focusing on verbal cues is probably the way to go, since this thing is so easy passed.
2. Got some major cold meds, so I could pass the day in a haze, without too much goo.
3. Brewing many pots of tea, kept warm with a lovely lamb tea cozy my mom knit me...constant hot liquids (Tazo's Wild Orange and Stash's Caffeine-free Peppermint are in the current rotation.)
4. Went out and got a Neti pot. I'm going to go all Ecoyogini here, but I can't say enough good things about how soothing this little item is. This is nothing special, just a plastic jobber from CVS (called a Sinus Wash), but I feel much clearer, post-Neti, and if hand-washing can eliminate 70% of the H1N1 germs, think how effective sinus-washing is! It's a bit odd (one of my students described it as self-water boarding), but not particularly gross and--like I said--completely soothing. I have some mild seasonal and dust allergies, so this should help, as well.

So, Yogis, how are you dealing with the bugs? Any problems with sick students showing up? Sick teachers? Any cute, handmade pots on Etsy I should take a look at?

My Two Cent's Worth

2009-09-14T11:25:00.003-05:00

First, Read, then Discuss: Yoga Journal's article, and then Dawg's link.

The topic of teacher training licensing caught my eye in last week's My Yoga Mentor, and now Yoga Dawg linked a quick (rather annoying) bit from Katie Couric, so I thought I'd weigh in. Apparently, there is some talk of requiring NY yoga studios to be licensed by the state to run teacher training programs (14 other states already include such a requirement). Some see this as unnecessary government interference--a way to make a bit of money off of popular programs. Others think this will dilute trainings to some generic set of information far removed from yoga's original message. Will it guarantee quality, or just cookie-cutter-ness? Will it squeeze little studios out of existence and benefit big corporate entities? Will it force studios to take their programs seriously and not treat trainings as just a lucrative revenue stream?

I don't mind the idea of regulation. I think all the above situations are possible, positive and negative, but I think regulation by a neutral third party is not a bad idea, especially if it will help "legitimize" yoga--in the same way that licensing of massage therapists, acupuncturists, and chiropractors helped bring the benefits of such healing practices to a broader audience. Perhaps it will let new students use their medical insurance to pay for their classes, as some companies pay gym fees and the cost of other alternative therapies. It seems to me that this sort of standardization will give yoga a new audience and help bring students to the practice that would otherwise have been scared off by images of turbans and chanting and spiritual peer pressure (undeserved or no).

The YJ article says that most states base their assessment on Yoga Alliance's standards, which are by no means wishy-washy or reduce the tradition to a series of exercises. Perhaps teachers can use this type of training as a starting point and would use later workshops and retreats as a way to augment their basic knowledge...and could market themselves and licensed, trained, and specializing in whatever.

I've been researching teacher training programs myself and wondering if they were really worth the $2500 (perhaps students would be able to apply for gov't aid, if schools were licensed). My training was more of an apprenticeship and, while I know it was thorough and effective, a future employer would have no way to evaluate my background. I would like to have some sort of certification and I would rather have a designation that was meaningful to people outside the yoga world, rather than just a piece of paper with a cute seal.

A university Master's Degree confers a certain amount of authority because it is awarded by an institution that is accredited and recognized by a legislating body as insuring a level of expertise. Don't we want the same level of respect for our trainings from everyone, not just the yoga in-crowd?

Back-to-School

2009-09-08T14:14:00.004-05:00

Well, here it is, the day-after-labor-day and not only can we be grateful that white heels have to go back in the closet, but it's time to get excited about school. Or at least enjoy that new-beginnings/fall-semester energy that comes this time of year. My eldest headed off to kindergarten, anxious but proud. He's still not sure about the all-day, all-week aspect of school, but is keen on the idea of school-provided hot lunch (yuck) and jungle gyms at recess.

As much as I hate to see days shorten and temperatures cool, I say good riddance to this year's cold, wet summer in the Midwest. All my tomatoes died from Blight last week and if that's how this season is going to reward all my hard work, I say, who needs it. Bring on the falling leaves and knitted garments!

The Y's classes start this week, so it's back to my regular teaching routine. I'm trying to incorporate more regular exercise this fall, too, to counteract stressful overscheduling and increase my stamina. Swimming is still a lovely workout, and I'm going to try to add some walking and perhaps a yoga class.

I have yet to find a local option that will work, but I'm going to branch out into the online world. I sampled a couple of classes at Yoga Download, that were quite acceptable, so I might give that a more regular go. Does anyone have other suggestions of podcasts of downloadable classes that they like?

This query is both for myself and for the next YJ article on creating an online yoga class. I'm fascinated by the internet as a teaching tool and how people have figured out how to exploit its potential in new and imaginative ways. The world gets smaller and smaller and, even though I really miss a hands-on, personal yoga class, I think there's some cool stuff to try out there...

So, whadaya think? Any thoughts on the matter? Secrets to share? I'm all ears, now that I don't have to schedule gardening into the mix (or making tomato sauce, for that matter...rats!).

Wisdom from the Masters...

2009-09-01T20:26:00.006-05:00

Oh my dears. How neglectful I have been. I've been gobsmacked by life, lately (haven't we all) and just haven't been able to put pen to paper (so to speak). Back-to-school for husb and son #1, heart surgery for Dad, four juggled projects and renovations to the home. Not particularly settling or calming.

My BFF during all of this is Thich Nhat Hahn, a Vietnamese monk and author of the book Peace in Every Step. He should be required bedside reading for everyone. The book consists of many one-to two-page chapters reminding us to see beauty in all things, be mindful of the wonder of life, and to smile when confronted with adversity. He comes across as very sweet rather than naive and his writings serve as a good reminder to live in the moment, instead of fretting about things outside of our control. A perfect something to ingest before going to sleep and help quiet the thoughts.

He reminds me (or vice versa) of the wise and gentle turtle, Master Oogway, from Kung Fu Panda, who delivers many aphorisms during the film: "Yesterday is history; tomorrow is a mystery; but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present." (I'm not the only fan, check this out!) He, too, can teach us something about calming the "fluctuations."

So chill with some sages this month. Go for something more thoughtful from TNH, or lighter--yet just as insightful--with KFP. Anything to keep the mind clear and the thoughts positive.

The B*tch is Back...

2009-08-15T21:20:00.002-05:00

Oh look, my old (friend) work-related stress has returned.

Just when it seemed like I was getting enough sleep on a regular basis, here I am at 3:30am, stewing about this thing and another--or just thinking--for a couple of hours. Motherhood-related stress was aggravating, but at least I got to the end of the day tired enough to just conk out for 6 or 7 hrs.(then waking up could be blamed on a young'un).

I'm juggling four different projects, these days, plus some home renovations that will require painting, and I can't get my mind to settle. It's not that the projects are all that aggravating, it's just that I feel kind of stretched and unable to give each enough attention. Oh yeah, and the boys. So, I've been getting headaches (again) and now this sleep-thing. I tried to limit caffeine today *sobs* and didn't take a nap, so I'd be good and exhausted when bedtime rolled around.

I've done a bit of consulting, too. Roger Cole has a useful chapter in Tim McCall's Yoga As Medicine that I intend to implement tonite, if necessary. Kelly McGonigal also has a informative article on stress on YJ's site (she has been a good source for a couple of articles and is an editor of International Journal of Yoga Therapy).

So, I am well-armed for this evening. Hopefully, I won't need it, but we'll see. ZZZzzzzzz

Speaking of Fishing...

2009-08-07T11:23:00.002-05:00

I'm working on a new set of pitches (article ideas) for Yoga Journal's My Yoga Mentor, newsletter for teachers. (If you teach, you might like to subscribe...there are often some useful ideas and suggestions. And it's free!) However, I'm feeling a bit idea-less. Any suggestions for something you've been wondering about and would like some one else to do the research on? Issues that ought to be addressed?

A couple of ideas I've had are teaching yoga to boys, and creating an online yoga class. But I'd like to have a few more possibilities. Any thoughts?

Something Fishy is Going On...

2009-08-04T21:52:00.003-05:00

I've always found fish tanks (stocked, of course) fascinating. Fish are so lovely, so graceful in the water with their fins waving in the current like streamers of silk. And the colors--bright orange and yellow, black and cobalt striped, iridescent green. So I've always thought I would like to have my own tankful to admire.

Well, I've got my chance. Eamonn brought a single goldfish home in a plastic baggie from the county fair on Friday and deposited it directly into my hands. This could be cool, I thought, or this could be an early lesson in death.

Since I never miss an opportunity to create more work for myself, I rushed over to the pet store to pick up a "Goldfish kit" to create a suitable, watery habitat for little "Hot Wheels." Meanwhile, the husb looked up "goldfish habitat" online and discovered that if we really wanted to take care of this newest member of the family, he'd need a much bigger tank, filter, etc etc.

Today Hot Wheels moved into 10x as much water as he had been swimming in, with geologically-appropriate gravel (my color-coordinated neon blue stuff was nixed) and 2 snails to keep him company. I suspect there are some more piscine friends in the future and I look forward to the naming process...

Apparently, watching fish has been proven to lower stress levels and blood pressure, so I'm thinking I have a new backdrop for my home yoga practice. If you've ever sat in front of a tank of jellyfish at an aquarium, you can certainly understand how watching our watery friends glide around would be calming. I'll have to do some research on appropriate tank mates, but, for now I have a new yoga buddy.

Ohm, Hot Wheels, Ohm.

Juicy Juice

2009-07-30T14:20:00.004-05:00

If you haven't already been over there, check out Connie's new site at Dirty Footprints Studio--art, yoga, enthusiasm. It's a very inspiring page, with lots of pictures of paint pots and crayons and ideas for jump starting your creativity. She calls it your creative, juicy life. It's a lot of fun to read and just makes you want to surround yourself with art supplies and draw.

So, it's great timing for me, as I'm starting my first design project in years (six, to be exact). I'm very curious to see how the confluence of motherhood, yoga and costumes comes together. It's a really wonderful project; a collaboration with a dance professor at Beloit College who took a group of students to Tanzania to work at a school for AIDS orphans, called The Peace House. These are African teenagers who have applied to attend the boarding school, and who receive training to do such things as teach and help set up small businesses in their home villages. Chris and her dancers worked with these kids for a week, exploring ways to use movement and dance as a way to communicate and teach.

I didn't get to go to Africa (phooey), but I have been working with Chris upon her return--reacting to extensive photo documentation and collecting additional imagery as she begins the tricky process of turning her experience into choreography. This is my favorite part of any design project--trying to convert an emotional, ephemeral jumble of ideas into a concrete reality. A watchable production. It's probably the art historian in me, but I just can't get enough of listening to other artists try to describe their influences and, together, figuring out how to translate these thoughts into a new piece.

And then I have to express that with the clothes. I've never done dance before, but I've always found it very compelling. The design is essential to the realization of the piece because the costumes are one of the dancers' props. They emphasize movement, or hinder it, or make bigger (imagine a shaking flapper without her fringe). So the designer has to really understand the choreographers' intention and work closely as the dance develops to make sure the garments serve the final product.

We've had a couple of really exciting conversations in the last few weeks. Watching (and helping) Chris start to "unlock" this dance has been so gratifying...something I have missed. I look at Connie's blog and it makes me so happy to wearing my artist's hat (beret?) again.

If my past experience is any indicator, yoga is going to be extremely important to the process--stress reliever, brain releaser, calming device. And then there's the boys--how have these little monkeys changed my approach? I assume I'll be able to keep the whole thing in perspective a bit better (if you have to step away to remove a splinter, wipe up a chewed crayon, rescue a cat from a remote-controlled tarantula, you can't get too worked up about leotard choices). But I wonder what else has changed.

Exciting. Intriguing. Juicy.