By now, I'm sure we're all a little tired of the Michael Jackson coverage. I'm a bit surprised why so many people (myself included) are so moved by this event , but I guess it's sort of a perfect storm of celebrity: tragically young performer, 15 yrs. of freakish behavior, child molestation charges, a potential comeback in the works, orphaned (?) children, and, of course, the legacy of the music.
When a famous young musician dies, it's always a big deal--not just because of the premature death, but because of the ownership fans have over the music and the person that created it. Many intense memories are attached to specific songs, and even just a few beginning beats can evoke a whole range of emotion and thoughts. MJ's catalogue covers a quarter of a century and, for people my age, that covers a lot of significant events.
Coincidentally, there was an interesting article in the NYT Science section last week about how--and what--humans hear. The sophisticated interaction of the brain and the ears has specific implications for what we like to hear; we can process the subtle sounds of language and humans are far more responsive to music than any other animal. Given the choice, most animals (including monkeys) would prefer silence to a gentle lullaby. Maybe the results would have been different, if they had played "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough."
So, it makes sense that the endless loops of "Thriller" and Jackson 5 are filling our ears, at this point. Elementary school sleepovers, junior high dances, and high school MTV marathons are also playing on the mental movie screen. It's not really the person of Michael Jackson who is being mourned, but the maker of music and creator of sound--not a bad dancer, either.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Yoga True Believers
The post was inspired by the thoughtful interview Nadine had with Crescence Krueger, one of her yoga "mothers." Crescence speaks of how the powerful experience of motherhood brought her in tune with her body and, as a result, her personal yoga practice. This deepening encouraged her to pursue training as a doula, which also affected her role as a teacher. It got me to thinking about the moment, if you can pinpoint it, that your practice becomes something greater than just a series of poses.
It's what I call becoming a "true believer." And this becoming usually leads to teaching, because you want to share your personal discovery of yoga with those near and dear.
My conversion was a result of finding physical release in classes I had with a very strong and moving teacher in Washington DC. Oya Horiguchi was Iyengar-trained and also a Phoenix Rising therapist, and her sequences always brought me great relief during stressful periods (which was most of the time) while I worked in the costume design biz. I grew to crave the open, satisfied, and calm feeling I always had driving home from her studio in Falls Church. I wanted to share this feeling with my colleagues and friends, and I began a year-long apprenticeship with her, which became the beginning of my teacher career (and, subsequently, my writing one).
Pregnancy and motherhood also affected my practice, because it made labor and delivery so bearable (easy is definitely not the right word) and made me appreciate the 10 minutes here and there that I can actually slip into a Dog or two, or a short session of pranayama. The release and centering it provides is priceless when chasing two little monkeys around.
I suspect, for most people it is a combination of inspiring teacher and significant life event--whether happy (childbirth, career change) or upsetting (life-threatening accident, addicition, violent relationship). Yoga offers a way to deal with all of these situations, and with an understanding, skilled mentor it can affect your world in profound ways. You sort of become a yoga evangelist and want to share the "word" with everyone who still sees yoga as a bunch of twisty poses by goofballs in turbans (or simply a sexy workout).
Some believers can be sort of annoying, I suppose, if the urge to share is too in-your-face, but most seem peaceful, generous, and nurturing. Of course, I'm talking about all of you. You wouldn't be writing and reading if you weren't finding peace, right?
So, tell me, when did you become a true believer?
It's what I call becoming a "true believer." And this becoming usually leads to teaching, because you want to share your personal discovery of yoga with those near and dear.
My conversion was a result of finding physical release in classes I had with a very strong and moving teacher in Washington DC. Oya Horiguchi was Iyengar-trained and also a Phoenix Rising therapist, and her sequences always brought me great relief during stressful periods (which was most of the time) while I worked in the costume design biz. I grew to crave the open, satisfied, and calm feeling I always had driving home from her studio in Falls Church. I wanted to share this feeling with my colleagues and friends, and I began a year-long apprenticeship with her, which became the beginning of my teacher career (and, subsequently, my writing one).
Pregnancy and motherhood also affected my practice, because it made labor and delivery so bearable (easy is definitely not the right word) and made me appreciate the 10 minutes here and there that I can actually slip into a Dog or two, or a short session of pranayama. The release and centering it provides is priceless when chasing two little monkeys around.
I suspect, for most people it is a combination of inspiring teacher and significant life event--whether happy (childbirth, career change) or upsetting (life-threatening accident, addicition, violent relationship). Yoga offers a way to deal with all of these situations, and with an understanding, skilled mentor it can affect your world in profound ways. You sort of become a yoga evangelist and want to share the "word" with everyone who still sees yoga as a bunch of twisty poses by goofballs in turbans (or simply a sexy workout).
Some believers can be sort of annoying, I suppose, if the urge to share is too in-your-face, but most seem peaceful, generous, and nurturing. Of course, I'm talking about all of you. You wouldn't be writing and reading if you weren't finding peace, right?
So, tell me, when did you become a true believer?
Friday, June 19, 2009
Inner Control Freak, your time is Up!
Back when I lived in a City, my friends and I would joke about the Voice--the nag inside our heads urging us to work harder, exercise more, send weekly resumes, rearrange the portfolio, etc etc all in the interest of being successful free-lancers. Some of the nag was useful, because it kept you on your toes instead of slacking off, but it could also be a distracting voice of self-doubt that just made you feel guilty and disappointed with yourself.
I referred to mine as my I.C.F.--my Inner Control Freak.
And, like I said, in the old days I got a lot done with that voice in my head, but I've noticed that it has become less useful and more frustrating as my landscape and responsibilities have changed. There is only so much that will get done with two little boys around, no matter how loud and insistent the nagging becomes. It tends to make me irritable and dissatisfied, because, as much as I try to organize my time, there are forces beyond my control that keep me from being the coffee achiever I like to think I am.
In my one free half-hour a day that everything personal has to happen, I was watching an old Margaret Cho special. Funny, naughty and surprisingly inspiring. She had a bit about her struggles with her weight and told how she began to calculate how much time could be saved if she refrained from scolding herself about being fat (97 minutes a week!).
What a brilliant way to think about energy wasted on the Inner Control Freak, I thought. I could gain at least one more half hour weekly, just by quitting the daily fret about projects not started (or finished), exercise regimes discontinued, floors unswiffed, photo albums unlabelled, blah blah blah. I'm sure I would be a lot less crabby and, who knows, all that stuff might eventually get done anyway, but without the scolding.
So, I'm trying to stop listening to the I.C.F. and channelling the juice in other directions. I should invent some sort of watch that keeps track of how much time you don't spend berating yourself, so you can come up with an alternative activity (the Notorious C.H.O suggests a ceramics class). Or no activity at all and just enjoy the free time. We'll see how it goes.
Synchronize watches...the clock starts, tick, tick, NOW!
I referred to mine as my I.C.F.--my Inner Control Freak.
And, like I said, in the old days I got a lot done with that voice in my head, but I've noticed that it has become less useful and more frustrating as my landscape and responsibilities have changed. There is only so much that will get done with two little boys around, no matter how loud and insistent the nagging becomes. It tends to make me irritable and dissatisfied, because, as much as I try to organize my time, there are forces beyond my control that keep me from being the coffee achiever I like to think I am.
In my one free half-hour a day that everything personal has to happen, I was watching an old Margaret Cho special. Funny, naughty and surprisingly inspiring. She had a bit about her struggles with her weight and told how she began to calculate how much time could be saved if she refrained from scolding herself about being fat (97 minutes a week!).
What a brilliant way to think about energy wasted on the Inner Control Freak, I thought. I could gain at least one more half hour weekly, just by quitting the daily fret about projects not started (or finished), exercise regimes discontinued, floors unswiffed, photo albums unlabelled, blah blah blah. I'm sure I would be a lot less crabby and, who knows, all that stuff might eventually get done anyway, but without the scolding.
So, I'm trying to stop listening to the I.C.F. and channelling the juice in other directions. I should invent some sort of watch that keeps track of how much time you don't spend berating yourself, so you can come up with an alternative activity (the Notorious C.H.O suggests a ceramics class). Or no activity at all and just enjoy the free time. We'll see how it goes.
Synchronize watches...the clock starts, tick, tick, NOW!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Quick Link
Just back from a lovely weekend at the beach...child-free, if you can believe it. The wireless connection was non-existent, so my plans for a lovely, leisurely posting went unrealized. Tomorrow.
In the meantime, here is the link to the latest My Yoga Mentor article on yoga without chanting. Let me know what you think!
In the meantime, here is the link to the latest My Yoga Mentor article on yoga without chanting. Let me know what you think!
Saturday, June 06, 2009
In a class my myself...
...so to speak. I'm trying to find a class for me to take, but living in a small town means finding something that is at the right time, not too far and my style is an awfully tall order. And I am not filling it.
I tried a class the other day at a new studio in a nearby town. It was a lovely space, with a very knowledgeable teacher. But, I was the only person that showed up for class and, even though we practiced, I got the feeling that this was a bit of an inconvenience.
I've been trying to decide if this was the teacher's fault, or mine for being too aware of how teaching a group class to one person can be a real energy drain. I remember when I was a student, I loved classes that were on the small side, because it felt like a personal session and we all got more attention. As a teacher, though, I always feel a bit self-conscious--trying not to make the person feel like I'm staring at them or evaluating their poses, trying not to be disappointed that more people didn't show up. I usually try to make it feel like a private session ("do you have anything you would like to work on?"), to convey a sense gratitude to the student who made the effort to come.
Who knows what was going on. Maybe it's been a slow season and the studio is hurting for students, maybe the teacher wasn't feeling well (she did make herself a cup of tea during class), maybe I'm thinking about it too much.
What do you think? How do you deal with (unintentionally) small classes? How do you feel if you are taking one of these classes? I'd like to think I'm just being super-sensitive, but I'm inclined to cross this one off the list...
I tried a class the other day at a new studio in a nearby town. It was a lovely space, with a very knowledgeable teacher. But, I was the only person that showed up for class and, even though we practiced, I got the feeling that this was a bit of an inconvenience.
I've been trying to decide if this was the teacher's fault, or mine for being too aware of how teaching a group class to one person can be a real energy drain. I remember when I was a student, I loved classes that were on the small side, because it felt like a personal session and we all got more attention. As a teacher, though, I always feel a bit self-conscious--trying not to make the person feel like I'm staring at them or evaluating their poses, trying not to be disappointed that more people didn't show up. I usually try to make it feel like a private session ("do you have anything you would like to work on?"), to convey a sense gratitude to the student who made the effort to come.
Who knows what was going on. Maybe it's been a slow season and the studio is hurting for students, maybe the teacher wasn't feeling well (she did make herself a cup of tea during class), maybe I'm thinking about it too much.
What do you think? How do you deal with (unintentionally) small classes? How do you feel if you are taking one of these classes? I'd like to think I'm just being super-sensitive, but I'm inclined to cross this one off the list...
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Happy vs Satisfied
Last week, I was listening to an interview with sociology prof. Andrew Cherlin about his book, The Marriage-Go-Round. In it, he analyzes trends in marriage patterns in the United States and how they differ from the rest of the world. He writes about how Americans tend to get married more often, and more frequently, than other nationalities. He suggests that this high rate for wedding and then divorcing is, in part, due to Americans' strong belief that they deserve to be happy. If you are not happy, this beliefs goes, then that is a significant problem and it needs to be corrected no matter what the consequences to a spouse and children.
It got me to thinking about the elusive nature of happiness and that maybe there is a better way to think about one's well-being.
To me, Happiness is best symbolized by a balloon. It's a big, round, shiny, brightly-colored, inflated emotion that is fun and cheerful, but can immediately be deflated by the prick of a pin. And, no matter how tightly knotted, eventually deflates anyway into a shrivelled pile of rubber. A delight to have around, but temporary and unsustainable.
Like a balloon that needs some one to blow it up, happiness is a state of being that is often dependent on factors out of your control--having a great boss, being thin, working at a stimulating job, living with well-behaved children. If this is what could make you happy, you don't have much control over your happiness--your actions can't always improve the situation, no matter what your intention; some bosses are just jerks, kids get cranky, your pelvis bone is wide.
So I'm thinking...how about Satisfaction as the goal. To me, "satisfied" suggests being pleased with an outcome you directly affected. You control the situation, you decide when it is completed, there is closure. I've been trying this mind-set out and I find myself in a much better mood. I'll be satisfied when this kid is dried off, in pajamas and in bed. I'm satisfied that I worked up a sweat mowing the lawn and got some exercise. This chocolate pudding is pure satisfaction. It breaks the desire down into an achievable goal and then it actually happens, so you get the, uh, satisfaction of a job well done. You're dealing with specifics, instead of grand, sweeping abstractions.
All semantics and mind games, I suppose. But, like shortening your to-do list, if it works...why not?
And that, my friends, makes me happy.
It got me to thinking about the elusive nature of happiness and that maybe there is a better way to think about one's well-being.
To me, Happiness is best symbolized by a balloon. It's a big, round, shiny, brightly-colored, inflated emotion that is fun and cheerful, but can immediately be deflated by the prick of a pin. And, no matter how tightly knotted, eventually deflates anyway into a shrivelled pile of rubber. A delight to have around, but temporary and unsustainable.
Like a balloon that needs some one to blow it up, happiness is a state of being that is often dependent on factors out of your control--having a great boss, being thin, working at a stimulating job, living with well-behaved children. If this is what could make you happy, you don't have much control over your happiness--your actions can't always improve the situation, no matter what your intention; some bosses are just jerks, kids get cranky, your pelvis bone is wide.
So I'm thinking...how about Satisfaction as the goal. To me, "satisfied" suggests being pleased with an outcome you directly affected. You control the situation, you decide when it is completed, there is closure. I've been trying this mind-set out and I find myself in a much better mood. I'll be satisfied when this kid is dried off, in pajamas and in bed. I'm satisfied that I worked up a sweat mowing the lawn and got some exercise. This chocolate pudding is pure satisfaction. It breaks the desire down into an achievable goal and then it actually happens, so you get the, uh, satisfaction of a job well done. You're dealing with specifics, instead of grand, sweeping abstractions.
All semantics and mind games, I suppose. But, like shortening your to-do list, if it works...why not?
And that, my friends, makes me happy.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Chakra #2
My friend Meikka recently emailed me with a questions for strengthening her second chakra. I am no expert on the chakras, or the management of kundalini energy, but I thought it might be good for me to do a bit of research. You never know when the info might be useful.
As it turns out, the second chakra--located a few inches below the navel--is a pretty powerful one. Its color is orange (symbolic?) and its element is water. Its Sanskrit name is svadhisthana, meaning sweetness, and it is considered the "seat of life." This is the chakra that controls emotions and sexuality and is connected to all the liquids of bodily functions--reproductive, excretory, circulation. A field day for Freudians...
Since it is related to water and emotions, it is connected to change and the need to create balance. Too open and you are overly emotional and tend to have problems in your relationships, too closed and you are dull, lifeless and have no sex drive.
Meikka is extremely eruidite (and an accomplished horsewoman), and I suspect her second chakra weakness was more a sly reference to needing to strengthen the core and lower back; either way, poses that aid in balancing of Svadhisthana also work on the abs and back. Here are some possibilities:
Bhujangasana (Cobra)-Lie on the stomach with the hands at the shoulder. Lift the chest off the floor, while keeping the legs and hips pressed down. Use the palms on the ground as a support, but don’t push the chest up; let your back muscles do the lifting. Repeat, and this time you can use your hands to push the chest up and get a deeper stretch in the spine. Keep the hips pressed to the ground.
Paschimottanasana (Forward Bend) Sit on the floor, with your legs straight out in front of you. Wrap your belt around the balls of the feet and begin to pull yourself forward, leading with the belly button. You are now tipping the pelvis forward to lengthen the back of the legs. Don’t round your lower back and keep the side ribs lifted as you did in the previous pose. If it’s comfortable, release the spine and fold further over the legs.
Navasana (Boat Pose) Sit with the knees bent and the hands behind the thighs at the knees. Lower the torso back to a 90-degree angle from the thighs. Keep the chest lifted and the neck long. Gently roll back onto your sitbones and balance with the shins parallel to the floor. Keeping the spine long, straighten the legs and, if you can keep your chest lifted, release the hands and straighten the arms with the palms down. Keep Breathing!
Supta Baddha Konasana (Reclining Bound Angle Pose) is one of my favorite relaxing hip openers. Sit on the floor in Bound Angle Pose (knees bent, soles of the feet touching), with several pillows or rolled blankets in reach. Make a large loop with your belt and place one end around your lower back and over your hip bones. Then slip the other end of the loop around the outside edge of the feet and tighten the belt so that the feet are pulled close to the body (as close as is comfortable). Then ease yourself back, first onto the elbows, and then to the floor. Place the pillows or blankets under the knees so you can relax your legs into the support of the pillows, while keeping the feet drawn towards the body. If it is uncomfortable to lie on the floor, keep yourself at an angle by leaning on a pillow or just rest your back against the wall.
So, some meager offerings from a novice...anybody else have any thoughts? (I realized I have no good pix in my archives...check out Yoga Journal for good descriptions and modifications for all these poses)
As it turns out, the second chakra--located a few inches below the navel--is a pretty powerful one. Its color is orange (symbolic?) and its element is water. Its Sanskrit name is svadhisthana, meaning sweetness, and it is considered the "seat of life." This is the chakra that controls emotions and sexuality and is connected to all the liquids of bodily functions--reproductive, excretory, circulation. A field day for Freudians...
Since it is related to water and emotions, it is connected to change and the need to create balance. Too open and you are overly emotional and tend to have problems in your relationships, too closed and you are dull, lifeless and have no sex drive.
Meikka is extremely eruidite (and an accomplished horsewoman), and I suspect her second chakra weakness was more a sly reference to needing to strengthen the core and lower back; either way, poses that aid in balancing of Svadhisthana also work on the abs and back. Here are some possibilities:
Bhujangasana (Cobra)-Lie on the stomach with the hands at the shoulder. Lift the chest off the floor, while keeping the legs and hips pressed down. Use the palms on the ground as a support, but don’t push the chest up; let your back muscles do the lifting. Repeat, and this time you can use your hands to push the chest up and get a deeper stretch in the spine. Keep the hips pressed to the ground.
Paschimottanasana (Forward Bend) Sit on the floor, with your legs straight out in front of you. Wrap your belt around the balls of the feet and begin to pull yourself forward, leading with the belly button. You are now tipping the pelvis forward to lengthen the back of the legs. Don’t round your lower back and keep the side ribs lifted as you did in the previous pose. If it’s comfortable, release the spine and fold further over the legs.
Navasana (Boat Pose) Sit with the knees bent and the hands behind the thighs at the knees. Lower the torso back to a 90-degree angle from the thighs. Keep the chest lifted and the neck long. Gently roll back onto your sitbones and balance with the shins parallel to the floor. Keeping the spine long, straighten the legs and, if you can keep your chest lifted, release the hands and straighten the arms with the palms down. Keep Breathing!
Supta Baddha Konasana (Reclining Bound Angle Pose) is one of my favorite relaxing hip openers. Sit on the floor in Bound Angle Pose (knees bent, soles of the feet touching), with several pillows or rolled blankets in reach. Make a large loop with your belt and place one end around your lower back and over your hip bones. Then slip the other end of the loop around the outside edge of the feet and tighten the belt so that the feet are pulled close to the body (as close as is comfortable). Then ease yourself back, first onto the elbows, and then to the floor. Place the pillows or blankets under the knees so you can relax your legs into the support of the pillows, while keeping the feet drawn towards the body. If it is uncomfortable to lie on the floor, keep yourself at an angle by leaning on a pillow or just rest your back against the wall.
So, some meager offerings from a novice...anybody else have any thoughts? (I realized I have no good pix in my archives...check out Yoga Journal for good descriptions and modifications for all these poses)
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Too Old to Die
Chauffeuring children is chore of great contrasts--a constant drudgery and yet a source a great revelation. Conversations held over shoulders seem to provide a lot more information about offsprings' thoughts and concerns, more so than face to face. Eamonn (4.5 yr.) always has a ton of questions, some completely mundane--Are trucks too big for the carwash?--to very heavy--Where do you go when you die? So, coming up with answers always keeps me on my toes--How did my baby brother get in your tummy? (cough, cough, what? I can't hear you...you're breaking up...)
Not too long ago, he asked, "Is Gram too old to die?" I paused, then answered that, unfortunately Gram was not too old to die, but that our memory of her would live on and on. (My mother later asked, "does he know something I don't?")
I've been thinking about that question, and my answer, in light of the passing of Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, the father of Ashtanga Yoga yesterday. It is a very sad time for his family and his followers, and a wistful time for everyone who practices a version of Krishnamacharya's yoga--whether via the teachings of Jois, B.K.S. Iyengar or T.K.V. Desikachar. The longevity of these great "gurujis" is both a testament to the power of the practice they represent to heal and keep the body healthy, but also the reminder of the temporality of the physical self.
That so many students and teachers have found strength and wisdom in their teachings, suggests that each of these mortal men are "too old to die." They have developed and passed on a practice that each yogi out there can refine and modify to suit their physical and mental needs and can make a part of their every living day. So many people have connected to this ancient practice and have learned from these teachers and their acolytes, that it suggests an unbroken chain (yoke?), unaffected by the coming and going of physical bodies.
And yet, even if the soul carries on in a new body, there is still a sense of loss of the old. We reflect and revere the cycle, but mourn the departure of some one truly loved. Eamonn has been asking a lot of questions about these beginnings and endings, and it's been a challenge to explain what I believe, while still leaving the door open for his own thoughts. Too Old to Die? Who knows, but I hope so...
Not too long ago, he asked, "Is Gram too old to die?" I paused, then answered that, unfortunately Gram was not too old to die, but that our memory of her would live on and on. (My mother later asked, "does he know something I don't?")
I've been thinking about that question, and my answer, in light of the passing of Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, the father of Ashtanga Yoga yesterday. It is a very sad time for his family and his followers, and a wistful time for everyone who practices a version of Krishnamacharya's yoga--whether via the teachings of Jois, B.K.S. Iyengar or T.K.V. Desikachar. The longevity of these great "gurujis" is both a testament to the power of the practice they represent to heal and keep the body healthy, but also the reminder of the temporality of the physical self.
That so many students and teachers have found strength and wisdom in their teachings, suggests that each of these mortal men are "too old to die." They have developed and passed on a practice that each yogi out there can refine and modify to suit their physical and mental needs and can make a part of their every living day. So many people have connected to this ancient practice and have learned from these teachers and their acolytes, that it suggests an unbroken chain (yoke?), unaffected by the coming and going of physical bodies.
And yet, even if the soul carries on in a new body, there is still a sense of loss of the old. We reflect and revere the cycle, but mourn the departure of some one truly loved. Eamonn has been asking a lot of questions about these beginnings and endings, and it's been a challenge to explain what I believe, while still leaving the door open for his own thoughts. Too Old to Die? Who knows, but I hope so...
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Mommy Time
Happy Day to all the mothers out there. I hope certain appreciative offspring gathered to thank you for everything you've done. Or made you something using a handprint or chocolate. Or a supportive relative removed said offspring from the room for another hour of sleep or coffee and the paper or, maybe, yoga.
What a long, strange trip it's been, so far. I've only been a mother for four and a half years, but I really can't imagine what life was like before these two little boys showed up and took over. It's got me thinking about time.
People keep telling me to cherish this time, that it will go so fast. And yet, to me it feels like forever. I don't necessarily mean that in a bad way, but it truly seems like this chapter has been stretching on and on. Maybe it's the weird sleep patterns that have set in (waking at the tiniest peep or cough, scheduling everything around naps, a late night ending at 10:30) or major priority shifts (how to fill daytime hours--playground or home, timing shopping so I don't need to pack snacks or diapers, cocktails at 5:30). Being at the beck and call of wee ones is exhausting and inspiring and hilarious all at once, but it definitely doesn't seem like time is passing quickly.
I'm guessing when they head off to school (#1 son in kindergarten this fall!), things will start to speed up. When I don't have to be there every second and start to reclaim my old, adult activities, time will pass more quickly. And, while it will be nice to talk to grown-ups again, I'm not really in a rush for the boys to leave me, either.
So, Childhood/Guruhood continues for these guys and I keep learning new ways to practice non-attachment. To my own hobbies, to cute baby behaviors, to free time, to a clean kitchen floor. I'm not dead yet, so I must be stronger...
I will miss Boynton books, definitely (...they rock and rock and rock to sleep)
What a long, strange trip it's been, so far. I've only been a mother for four and a half years, but I really can't imagine what life was like before these two little boys showed up and took over. It's got me thinking about time.
People keep telling me to cherish this time, that it will go so fast. And yet, to me it feels like forever. I don't necessarily mean that in a bad way, but it truly seems like this chapter has been stretching on and on. Maybe it's the weird sleep patterns that have set in (waking at the tiniest peep or cough, scheduling everything around naps, a late night ending at 10:30) or major priority shifts (how to fill daytime hours--playground or home, timing shopping so I don't need to pack snacks or diapers, cocktails at 5:30). Being at the beck and call of wee ones is exhausting and inspiring and hilarious all at once, but it definitely doesn't seem like time is passing quickly.
I'm guessing when they head off to school (#1 son in kindergarten this fall!), things will start to speed up. When I don't have to be there every second and start to reclaim my old, adult activities, time will pass more quickly. And, while it will be nice to talk to grown-ups again, I'm not really in a rush for the boys to leave me, either.
So, Childhood/Guruhood continues for these guys and I keep learning new ways to practice non-attachment. To my own hobbies, to cute baby behaviors, to free time, to a clean kitchen floor. I'm not dead yet, so I must be stronger...
I will miss Boynton books, definitely (...they rock and rock and rock to sleep)
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Dodo bird Yoga
Aahh, the "yoga without chanting" article has been submitted and I'm finally catching up with my life. Despite the fact that I love writing--and love that some one will pay me to do it--I get very anxious trying to meet a deadline. The muse is fickle, that's for sure.
This article was inspired by an earlier post and all of your responses. It made me think that people might be interested in the idea of teaching a class without Ohms or mantras, and I wanted some hard facts about the benefits of such a class.
I interviewed Donal MacCoon, a researcher at Univ. of Wisconsin--Madison, whose research has focused on the effectiveness of Mindfulness. His study was influenced by earlier work done by Saul Rosenzweig in the 1930s. Rosenzweig wanted to see what it was about different psychotherapies that made them work. What he found was that it wasn't so much that a specific approach that was better than another, but that the therapist was well-versed in the cure and believed it worked. A patient would have positive results with any number of therapies, if s/he had a good therapist.
This seems to follow in studies of such mind-body practices as yoga, Mindfulness, and meditation. It doesn't matter so much how or what you practice, but that you are confident the method you choose will help you and you trust your teacher. If you have a dedicated Kundalini teacher, who has a beautiful chanting voice and you enjoy vocalization in class, the class will benefit you. If your teacher is a powerful Ashtanga teacher and you love the energy of Sun Salutes, the class will benefit you.
MacCoon suggested (although it hasn't been tested yet) that you could probably take a class of made-up poses and, if the teacher was articulate and engaging, the class would benefit you. I kinda love that--puts a big hole through the argument that one yoga is "better" than another.
So celebrate your training and teach what you love. Your students will reap the benefits of your enthusiasm and you can be confident that you are helping them. It's all good.
The Rosenzweig study is referred to as the Dodo bird conjecture, because he quoted Alice in Wonderland at the beginning of the paper. I think it's appropriate for this post, too:
"At last the Dodo said, 'Everybody has won, and all must receive prizes!"
This article was inspired by an earlier post and all of your responses. It made me think that people might be interested in the idea of teaching a class without Ohms or mantras, and I wanted some hard facts about the benefits of such a class.
I interviewed Donal MacCoon, a researcher at Univ. of Wisconsin--Madison, whose research has focused on the effectiveness of Mindfulness. His study was influenced by earlier work done by Saul Rosenzweig in the 1930s. Rosenzweig wanted to see what it was about different psychotherapies that made them work. What he found was that it wasn't so much that a specific approach that was better than another, but that the therapist was well-versed in the cure and believed it worked. A patient would have positive results with any number of therapies, if s/he had a good therapist.
This seems to follow in studies of such mind-body practices as yoga, Mindfulness, and meditation. It doesn't matter so much how or what you practice, but that you are confident the method you choose will help you and you trust your teacher. If you have a dedicated Kundalini teacher, who has a beautiful chanting voice and you enjoy vocalization in class, the class will benefit you. If your teacher is a powerful Ashtanga teacher and you love the energy of Sun Salutes, the class will benefit you.
MacCoon suggested (although it hasn't been tested yet) that you could probably take a class of made-up poses and, if the teacher was articulate and engaging, the class would benefit you. I kinda love that--puts a big hole through the argument that one yoga is "better" than another.
So celebrate your training and teach what you love. Your students will reap the benefits of your enthusiasm and you can be confident that you are helping them. It's all good.
The Rosenzweig study is referred to as the Dodo bird conjecture, because he quoted Alice in Wonderland at the beginning of the paper. I think it's appropriate for this post, too:
"At last the Dodo said, 'Everybody has won, and all must receive prizes!"
Thursday, April 23, 2009
What Would Yoga Teachers Do?
Let's just say I'm collecting war stories...war stories about, uh, difficult students. Perhaps the biggest challenge of teaching yoga is not demonstrating Bakasana or keeping your sequences fresh, but maintaining harmony in the class room.
Inevitably, a group of people in a yoga class will have some conflicts, whether philosophical, personal, or physical. One person wears too much perfume, another not enough deodorant. One person wants to breath noisily and sigh heavily during difficult poses and another needs a quiet practice space. Some one modifies their poses appropriately when they have an injury, some body else forces themselves forwards in Paschimottanasana with a humped upper back and cringe on her face. People show up late and distract everyone during the opening Ohms, other people clump out of class loudly during Savasana.
What's a sweet, little yoga teacher to do? You don't want to introduce a feeling of persecution by embarrassing any one, but you owe it to your other students to discourage disruptive behavior. You don't want a smelly studio. Students should be able to make the class work for them, but no one wants to watch a smug yogi showing off when the teaching is trying to demonstrate a new pose.
The one bright point in all of this is that these problem students can often reveal biases that you, as a teacher, are holding. Why does a certain behavior bother you so much? It can be a disconcerting realization, but it's a good exercise in self-awareness. Doesn't kill ya, so it makes you stronger, right?
So, my dear yogis, share. How have you dealt with troublemakers? How have you dealt with yourself? Please feel free to register as Anonymous if it makes you more comfortable to discuss. It think it is good for all of us to compare notes, and if you want to be discrete, that's cool.
WWYTD?
Inevitably, a group of people in a yoga class will have some conflicts, whether philosophical, personal, or physical. One person wears too much perfume, another not enough deodorant. One person wants to breath noisily and sigh heavily during difficult poses and another needs a quiet practice space. Some one modifies their poses appropriately when they have an injury, some body else forces themselves forwards in Paschimottanasana with a humped upper back and cringe on her face. People show up late and distract everyone during the opening Ohms, other people clump out of class loudly during Savasana.
What's a sweet, little yoga teacher to do? You don't want to introduce a feeling of persecution by embarrassing any one, but you owe it to your other students to discourage disruptive behavior. You don't want a smelly studio. Students should be able to make the class work for them, but no one wants to watch a smug yogi showing off when the teaching is trying to demonstrate a new pose.
The one bright point in all of this is that these problem students can often reveal biases that you, as a teacher, are holding. Why does a certain behavior bother you so much? It can be a disconcerting realization, but it's a good exercise in self-awareness. Doesn't kill ya, so it makes you stronger, right?
So, my dear yogis, share. How have you dealt with troublemakers? How have you dealt with yourself? Please feel free to register as Anonymous if it makes you more comfortable to discuss. It think it is good for all of us to compare notes, and if you want to be discrete, that's cool.
WWYTD?
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Yoga for Headaches
Oof, tension headaches. I have been getting plenty, lately, due to an overloaded schedule. I keep taking stuff on and forgetting that, even though the boys are getting better at keeping themselves entertained, I can't take my eyes off of them. Let week, a deer pellet was sampled when I turned away in the backyard. I'm telling myself the little one is just building up his immunity...
But, to work on the headaches, I've been ingesting ibuprophen (need to do less of that) and working on some upper back openers (need to do more). These poses have helped a lot, by stretching out tense muscles, getting the blood flowing to the area and just making me focus on releasing tightness. Here are mine; what are your favorites?
Seated Neck Stretch: Sit in Sukhasana, making sure to have the shoulders and hips aligned and the weight of the upper body balanced over the lower. Try to keep the breastbone in line with the belly button (it's easy to end up leaning to one side). With the right hand resting gently on the head, tilt the head to the right, letting the weight of the hand help pull the head farther over. Don't force anything, just let the extra weight deepen the stretch. Rest the left hand on the mat next to the hips and slide it away from the body to increase the stretch.
Let the head roll forwards about 15 degrees, so the stretch moves off the shoulders and into the upper back. After a few breaths, let the head roll forwards another 15 degrees (not to the center) and feel the stretch next to the spine and in the back of the neck. Let the head fall gently forwards--without the weight of the hand---and lift the head back to center. Repeat on other side.(Old Picture...I'm not pregnant)
But, to work on the headaches, I've been ingesting ibuprophen (need to do less of that) and working on some upper back openers (need to do more). These poses have helped a lot, by stretching out tense muscles, getting the blood flowing to the area and just making me focus on releasing tightness. Here are mine; what are your favorites?
Seated Neck Stretch: Sit in Sukhasana, making sure to have the shoulders and hips aligned and the weight of the upper body balanced over the lower. Try to keep the breastbone in line with the belly button (it's easy to end up leaning to one side). With the right hand resting gently on the head, tilt the head to the right, letting the weight of the hand help pull the head farther over. Don't force anything, just let the extra weight deepen the stretch. Rest the left hand on the mat next to the hips and slide it away from the body to increase the stretch.
Let the head roll forwards about 15 degrees, so the stretch moves off the shoulders and into the upper back. After a few breaths, let the head roll forwards another 15 degrees (not to the center) and feel the stretch next to the spine and in the back of the neck. Let the head fall gently forwards--without the weight of the hand---and lift the head back to center. Repeat on other side.(Old Picture...I'm not pregnant)
Garudasana arms: still in Sukhasana, raise the arms so the elbows are chest height. Bend the elbows and lift them to be even with the chest. Cross the left elbow over the right and center the elbows with your breast bone. Without hunching the shoulders, interlock the palms. If you can't do this with out hunching, rest the palms on the shoulders or try and grab the right pinky with the left thumb. Repeat with right elbow over left. This releases the muscles between the shoulder blades, a common place for tension knots.
Gomukhasana arms: If you're getting tired of Easy Pose, try shifting into Virasana (Hero Pose) to stretch out the thighs a bit. Place your belt over your right shoulder. Now stretch the right hand toward the ceiling and rotate it in the socket so your elbow is facing forwards. Bend the right arm and reach that hand towards your shoulder blades. Give the right triceps a gentle stretch by pressing on the right elbow with your left hand. Take hold of the belt with your right hand.
Bend the left elbow along side the body and reach up the back to take hold of the belt, or, if you have flexible shoulders, the right hand. When you adjust the hands, make sure they are lined up with your spine. Then check the alignment of the spine; its easy to start slouching when your are focusing so much on the upper body. This pose opens up the chest and moves blood around the shoulder joints.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Off the Charts
Yoga Dawg and I passed a few music ideas back and forth on facebook the other day. He is pressing for more jazz as background, rather than the usual flute/chants/bells soundtrack. Not a bad idea, thought I. So I'm listing some of my favorite atypical yoga class tunes, including a few jazz selections. Then, you can tell me what yours are and we're off to a new playlist!Check it out:
Air Moon Safari
Brian Eno Ambient 1; Music for Airports
Phillip Glass Soundtrack from The Hours
Phillip Glass Uakti Aguas da Amazonia
Pat Metheny One Quiet Night
Rachel Portman Soundtrack from Beloved
Gustavo Santaolalla Roncoco
Jazz Vibes Mix tape of Theolonius Monk, Milt Jackson (above), Miles Davis (sorry, Dawg, this is kinda vague, but I'm not sure what albums I took stuff from, etc.)
Jazz Sax Mix tape of David Sanborn and T. Monk
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Some more thoughts on the Headstand...
Both Jen and blogoyogo's comments about last week's post made me think about the mental challenges of a headstand. Or, maybe, how the physical challenges affect the mind. Anyway, I thought I'd dig into the archives for a sequence that helps prep the body for a handstand (here you go), but also offer a few more thoughts.
I always move very slowly into the pose, both for myself and with my class. You just never know what you're going to feel like, until you're almost there. In class, I have every one come into the tripod at the wall with their knees on the floor so they can adjust their hands and find the right spot on the top of their heads. Then I have them straighten their legs, so they are--sort o--in Dolphin pose, but with their shoulders pressed to the wall. Again, they check their hands and head and see how the additional weight feels.
Then they walk their feet forwards, towards their faces, so the torso comes in line with the shoulders--approximately. Once more, they check their base, how does the neck feel, how do they feel about being this inverted. Then we gently lift one leg and hop on the other foot to get the feeling of lifting off, but without committing the whole body to coming up. Okay? Not okay?
Finally, if all of that feels good and the body feels prepared, I have them kick one foot and then the other over head, so the heels come to the wall above. By now, the inverted feeling is not so foreign and, hopefully, they've made adjustment to their hands and head so the full weight of the body isn't uncomfortable.
I figure, this gives everyone a chance to bail if they want, but also it eases the body into the position, so even nervous students can give the pose a try. Sometimes I need to stop some one from going up, but I can keep an eye on everyone to see who might not make it. Many times I've had hesitant students go up and stay up, because they've felt prepared for the challenge.
See if this approach works for you. If you're relatively new to headstands it might still be a bit clunky, but this way you can ease into the inversion. Like I said, I always do it just to make sure I'm up for it (while I'm still down).
I always move very slowly into the pose, both for myself and with my class. You just never know what you're going to feel like, until you're almost there. In class, I have every one come into the tripod at the wall with their knees on the floor so they can adjust their hands and find the right spot on the top of their heads. Then I have them straighten their legs, so they are--sort o--in Dolphin pose, but with their shoulders pressed to the wall. Again, they check their hands and head and see how the additional weight feels.
Then they walk their feet forwards, towards their faces, so the torso comes in line with the shoulders--approximately. Once more, they check their base, how does the neck feel, how do they feel about being this inverted. Then we gently lift one leg and hop on the other foot to get the feeling of lifting off, but without committing the whole body to coming up. Okay? Not okay?
Finally, if all of that feels good and the body feels prepared, I have them kick one foot and then the other over head, so the heels come to the wall above. By now, the inverted feeling is not so foreign and, hopefully, they've made adjustment to their hands and head so the full weight of the body isn't uncomfortable.
I figure, this gives everyone a chance to bail if they want, but also it eases the body into the position, so even nervous students can give the pose a try. Sometimes I need to stop some one from going up, but I can keep an eye on everyone to see who might not make it. Many times I've had hesitant students go up and stay up, because they've felt prepared for the challenge.
See if this approach works for you. If you're relatively new to headstands it might still be a bit clunky, but this way you can ease into the inversion. Like I said, I always do it just to make sure I'm up for it (while I'm still down).
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Inverted
Salamba Sirsana, King of all Asana, the Headstand. I haven't been doing enough of them lately, but they are so much fun when I do. Why? Because you get to be upside-down. The boys seem to spend at least a third of their time throwing themselves on the floor, heads down, butts up the wall/the back of the couch/the edge of the ottoman. Hilarity ensues. Gales of laughter. The baby does a sort of free-form Uttanasana meets Down Dog, and looks around at it all from that perspective.
A friend asked for my thoughts on her new teaching space: a conference room in a skyscraper with panoramic views out a wall of windows. How did I think she should teach headstands, so as not to disorient her students? I gave it some thought--I didn't want her to lose anyone. But it seems to me the whole point of a headstand is to disorient. You're upside-down, you're inverting your whole body, gravity pulls on the opposite end, blood rushes away from the feet towards the head. If you accept this topsy-turvy situation, it can be very freeing as you watch birds fly under trees and an ant scurry upside down past your forehead (hopefully, that won't make you lose your balance).
It's a treat and a trip to go head over heels. Make sure you cushion the top of your head and don't rush to get away from the wall. If you need the support to feel safe and comfortable, use it. If kids love to do it and do it repeatedly ad nauseum, it's got to be fun.
Embrace the new view and look around--who know what you'll see from this angle.
A friend asked for my thoughts on her new teaching space: a conference room in a skyscraper with panoramic views out a wall of windows. How did I think she should teach headstands, so as not to disorient her students? I gave it some thought--I didn't want her to lose anyone. But it seems to me the whole point of a headstand is to disorient. You're upside-down, you're inverting your whole body, gravity pulls on the opposite end, blood rushes away from the feet towards the head. If you accept this topsy-turvy situation, it can be very freeing as you watch birds fly under trees and an ant scurry upside down past your forehead (hopefully, that won't make you lose your balance).
It's a treat and a trip to go head over heels. Make sure you cushion the top of your head and don't rush to get away from the wall. If you need the support to feel safe and comfortable, use it. If kids love to do it and do it repeatedly ad nauseum, it's got to be fun.
Embrace the new view and look around--who know what you'll see from this angle.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
The Smell of Memory
I'll have to admit, winter got to be too much. I escaped to funny, sunny Austin, TX with son #1 to visit my sister for a long weekend. What a treat. We hit many a playscape, ate BBQ and Tex-Mex on the porch, and got caught up. It was sort of a reunion weekend, unintentionally. A few friends were able to sneak away from their winter quarters, a few more still lived in Austin, one had a meeting for work. Live-action Facebook.
I lived in Austin in the early '90s. It was the location of the first what-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-life crisis; leaving art history, a quick stop in fabric retail, then moving onto a Costume Design M.F.A. So, I revisited many memories: spied on old homes (all still standing, a bit more run down, one hideous paint job), visited the University of Texas Costume Shop, dined at favorite restaurants, wandered familiar Zilker Park trails. Meeting up with old friends was a trip, and it seemed as if no time had passed at all until Eamonn--the son--came wandering by, to remind us all that life moves on. "Mom, where's my Cars sticker book?"
What stopped me dead in my tracks was the smells. They say scent evokes strong emotional memories, and this trip was no exception. Flavors in the air kept catching me by surprise. High on the list of favorites was Mountain Laurel, a very purple-y smelling flower (like Grape Bubble Yum) that is a harbinger of spring in Texas. The most startling was the smell of the theatre building on campus (completely undescribable--dust+dancer sweat+grease paint+scenery paint+etc etc etc). I breathed it in as I climbed the stairs to the costume shop and I was immediately struck by a feeling of dread--deadlines, incomprehensible draping instructions, irritating student actors, imagined (hopefully) academic inadequacy.
Odd, since the costume world has served me very well in the decade since grad school, and yet that building smell reduced me to an insecure student. Instantly. It suggests that there are some unresolved issues from that period, although I'm not sure how I would deal with them. It was a very interesting moment.
This combination of smells and faces made it a vacation of much reflection. Interesting to unpack some of that baggage, but I was also glad to put it away once I got home. I keep being confronted with the past--my and other's recollections on fb--and this visit was another manifestation of that. I love checking in with things that happened in previous chapters, finding out how people's lives have unfolded, reestablishing contact. I'm a little rattled by the emotional responses still lurking.
Material for the book, I guess. I wish I could publish this in scratch-n-sniff:
I lived in Austin in the early '90s. It was the location of the first what-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-life crisis; leaving art history, a quick stop in fabric retail, then moving onto a Costume Design M.F.A. So, I revisited many memories: spied on old homes (all still standing, a bit more run down, one hideous paint job), visited the University of Texas Costume Shop, dined at favorite restaurants, wandered familiar Zilker Park trails. Meeting up with old friends was a trip, and it seemed as if no time had passed at all until Eamonn--the son--came wandering by, to remind us all that life moves on. "Mom, where's my Cars sticker book?"
What stopped me dead in my tracks was the smells. They say scent evokes strong emotional memories, and this trip was no exception. Flavors in the air kept catching me by surprise. High on the list of favorites was Mountain Laurel, a very purple-y smelling flower (like Grape Bubble Yum) that is a harbinger of spring in Texas. The most startling was the smell of the theatre building on campus (completely undescribable--dust+dancer sweat+grease paint+scenery paint+etc etc etc). I breathed it in as I climbed the stairs to the costume shop and I was immediately struck by a feeling of dread--deadlines, incomprehensible draping instructions, irritating student actors, imagined (hopefully) academic inadequacy.
Odd, since the costume world has served me very well in the decade since grad school, and yet that building smell reduced me to an insecure student. Instantly. It suggests that there are some unresolved issues from that period, although I'm not sure how I would deal with them. It was a very interesting moment.
This combination of smells and faces made it a vacation of much reflection. Interesting to unpack some of that baggage, but I was also glad to put it away once I got home. I keep being confronted with the past--my and other's recollections on fb--and this visit was another manifestation of that. I love checking in with things that happened in previous chapters, finding out how people's lives have unfolded, reestablishing contact. I'm a little rattled by the emotional responses still lurking.
Material for the book, I guess. I wish I could publish this in scratch-n-sniff:
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Energy to Burn
I'm thinking about energy. High energy, low energy, energy to burn. I have two little boys, and I made the mistake of not going outside yesterday afternoon. I just didn't feel like wandering around the cold, wet yard, keeping people out of mud puddles and, inevitably, getting splashed myself. Big Mistake. So the lads were bouncing off the wall by the evening; I had dispensed enough time outs to shelve every single Hot Wheel and was researching boarding school once bedtime rolled around.
Not quite. But it got me to thinking about energy and why kids--boys especially--have so much. There was an article in the NYT yesterday about a teacher in MN who had designed special desks so that kids can stand, instead of sit, if they get too antsy in chairs. I can think of two candidates for that type of classroom. They say boys have so much trouble in school and get diagnosed/medicated for ADHD because of their inability to control their energy and channel it into schoolwork as successfully as girls. What is it about the metabolism of their molecules that is always in overdrive? Brain wired for hunting and gathering? Higher testosterone levels? Sheer ornery-ness?
I guess if it was known, you could "bottle it and sell it." Even when considering my own levels, it seems awfully mysterious--more yoga and exercise, more energy; lots of lounging and lolling about, zero energy. I suppose there's a dissertation or two in all of this. All I know is, rain or no, I better get these stinkers out there this afternoon or there will be Trouble Right Here in River City.
(P.S. We got all geared up and headed out, when it started to pour. I figured that would "dampen" everyone's enthusiasm. Noo--I got to chase a baby around the back yard, slipping and sliding on wet leaves and sodden snow. I finally had to corral them all after 25 min.s of 37 degree soaking. These guys shoulda been born in Britain!)
Not quite. But it got me to thinking about energy and why kids--boys especially--have so much. There was an article in the NYT yesterday about a teacher in MN who had designed special desks so that kids can stand, instead of sit, if they get too antsy in chairs. I can think of two candidates for that type of classroom. They say boys have so much trouble in school and get diagnosed/medicated for ADHD because of their inability to control their energy and channel it into schoolwork as successfully as girls. What is it about the metabolism of their molecules that is always in overdrive? Brain wired for hunting and gathering? Higher testosterone levels? Sheer ornery-ness?
I guess if it was known, you could "bottle it and sell it." Even when considering my own levels, it seems awfully mysterious--more yoga and exercise, more energy; lots of lounging and lolling about, zero energy. I suppose there's a dissertation or two in all of this. All I know is, rain or no, I better get these stinkers out there this afternoon or there will be Trouble Right Here in River City.
(P.S. We got all geared up and headed out, when it started to pour. I figured that would "dampen" everyone's enthusiasm. Noo--I got to chase a baby around the back yard, slipping and sliding on wet leaves and sodden snow. I finally had to corral them all after 25 min.s of 37 degree soaking. These guys shoulda been born in Britain!)
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Another Review of the Literature...
Here's a list of (mostly) yoga blogs for you to check out. Some are new, some are just new to me. Nevertheless, take a look and see who's out there with us in the yoga blogosphere (in no particular order):
Ecoyogini Our girl is looking to save the planet, as well as align her chakras. There's lots of good ideas for greener living; products to try, attitudes to adopt, habits to change. I'm strangely intrigued by the Divacup...
A little dash of this a little dash of that This blog is exactly as is says...photos of Hawaii, pics of last nite's ginger chicken, etc. If noodlegirl likes it, she posts it.
Beantown Girlie Katie writes about a variety of topics, mainly about being appreciative of life and the opportunities it provides.
Yoga Is Being Present Ruben Vasquez has a very thoughtful blog that discusses his philosophy and how to apply it to your own practice. You can read it in English or Spanish.
Write on Yoga This is actually the new version of Melissa Garvey's blog, Yogapulse, in case you had trouble finding it. Same interesting topics, new streamlined look.
Babsbabble Yoga from Montana! Bab's blog is sweet, lighthearted and a fun read. Topics range from studio anecdotes, valentines' memories to fun things to do in Helena.
Blissful Body Yoga Teal has lots of yoga links and info on this blog from NC.
Inlimine A deep and considered discussion of yoga and Buddhism.
Dirty footprints is a delightful blog by an artist/yogini/teacher. She is an enthusiastic Etsy participant and has great posts on her kids (students), her projects and other artists to take a look at.
Mightier than any sword Anne-Marie is a journalist from New Zealand. She doesn't write that much about yoga, but she has wonderful posts about what is going on in NZ and Australia (right now she is travelling--yesterday she watched a kangaroo and her joey from her hotel door).
Five points yoga Barrett is a teacher in Boston. I interviewed her for the Yoga at the Gym article and found her to be as funny and sincere on the phone as she is in her blog. She is teaching a lot of prenatal yoga these days, and has some good insights into pregnancy, as well as resources, in her posts.
P.S. A big thank you to Jen, who gave me a Lemonade Stand award on her blog, McSmithleyville. I appreciate the props, m'am! A hug for the littlest McSmithley (I'd send a kiss, but there's an awful lot of yogurt on that little puss).
Ecoyogini Our girl is looking to save the planet, as well as align her chakras. There's lots of good ideas for greener living; products to try, attitudes to adopt, habits to change. I'm strangely intrigued by the Divacup...
A little dash of this a little dash of that This blog is exactly as is says...photos of Hawaii, pics of last nite's ginger chicken, etc. If noodlegirl likes it, she posts it.
Beantown Girlie Katie writes about a variety of topics, mainly about being appreciative of life and the opportunities it provides.
Yoga Is Being Present Ruben Vasquez has a very thoughtful blog that discusses his philosophy and how to apply it to your own practice. You can read it in English or Spanish.
Write on Yoga This is actually the new version of Melissa Garvey's blog, Yogapulse, in case you had trouble finding it. Same interesting topics, new streamlined look.
Babsbabble Yoga from Montana! Bab's blog is sweet, lighthearted and a fun read. Topics range from studio anecdotes, valentines' memories to fun things to do in Helena.
Blissful Body Yoga Teal has lots of yoga links and info on this blog from NC.
Inlimine A deep and considered discussion of yoga and Buddhism.
Dirty footprints is a delightful blog by an artist/yogini/teacher. She is an enthusiastic Etsy participant and has great posts on her kids (students), her projects and other artists to take a look at.
Mightier than any sword Anne-Marie is a journalist from New Zealand. She doesn't write that much about yoga, but she has wonderful posts about what is going on in NZ and Australia (right now she is travelling--yesterday she watched a kangaroo and her joey from her hotel door).
Five points yoga Barrett is a teacher in Boston. I interviewed her for the Yoga at the Gym article and found her to be as funny and sincere on the phone as she is in her blog. She is teaching a lot of prenatal yoga these days, and has some good insights into pregnancy, as well as resources, in her posts.
P.S. A big thank you to Jen, who gave me a Lemonade Stand award on her blog, McSmithleyville. I appreciate the props, m'am! A hug for the littlest McSmithley (I'd send a kiss, but there's an awful lot of yogurt on that little puss).
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Simply Hatha
I had a class this weekend for Triathletes. I'm always glad to introduce people to yoga, so I designed a sequence that focused on core strength, lengthening thru the torso and using the breath to help maintain difficult positions. The students seemed responsive and I even had one sign up for my regular class. I had to keep reminding myself not to "leave the yoga out," even tho the crowd was there more for a workout than centering. By the end of the class everyone was more open, but they also seemed calmer and relaxed. Was it the simple work of the sequence or my teaching? I'm never sure...
My classes tend to focus mostly on the body; what is being worked or stretched, how the pose affects other actions, what should be aligned/relaxed/engaged. It's not a Yoga Workout, but it is asana-centered. We do a little bit of pranayama, but mostly as simple breathing exercises to help calm the mind. We don't chant or do intense breathwork or even vocalize Ohms. I like that stuff in other classes, with other teachers, but I would feel like a big phony teaching it. I don't do it much in my own practice and I haven't had any training aside from a few workshops.
Sometimes I feel kind of guilty about not wanting to include more of the "beyond-asana" elements in my classes. Iyengars tend to leave that study for advanced students and, since most of my crowd is pretty fresh, I don't include it either. Maybe it's my Midwestern tendency avoid other people's spirituality. I'd just assume they get there under their own steam...if the practice wants to move in that direction, they can pursue it with some one more qualified. Or maybe they are moving beyond the physical, just by coming to the class regularly and using some of my cues at home. With my regulars, I get the feeling they are beyond-asana, just by watching their faces in release poses or seeing how they cope with tougher positions (Gomukhasana tends to separate the wheat from the chaff).
When the dust of motherhood starts to settle (if it ever does) maybe I will add a more spiritual element to my practice and, eventually, my teaching. Until then, I guess it will have to be a subtle undertone for the most focused students. Even just sitting straighter becomes more than just sukhasana--there's something of the divine in that floating feeling you get when the upper body is exactly aligned over the lower...
My classes tend to focus mostly on the body; what is being worked or stretched, how the pose affects other actions, what should be aligned/relaxed/engaged. It's not a Yoga Workout, but it is asana-centered. We do a little bit of pranayama, but mostly as simple breathing exercises to help calm the mind. We don't chant or do intense breathwork or even vocalize Ohms. I like that stuff in other classes, with other teachers, but I would feel like a big phony teaching it. I don't do it much in my own practice and I haven't had any training aside from a few workshops.
Sometimes I feel kind of guilty about not wanting to include more of the "beyond-asana" elements in my classes. Iyengars tend to leave that study for advanced students and, since most of my crowd is pretty fresh, I don't include it either. Maybe it's my Midwestern tendency avoid other people's spirituality. I'd just assume they get there under their own steam...if the practice wants to move in that direction, they can pursue it with some one more qualified. Or maybe they are moving beyond the physical, just by coming to the class regularly and using some of my cues at home. With my regulars, I get the feeling they are beyond-asana, just by watching their faces in release poses or seeing how they cope with tougher positions (Gomukhasana tends to separate the wheat from the chaff).
When the dust of motherhood starts to settle (if it ever does) maybe I will add a more spiritual element to my practice and, eventually, my teaching. Until then, I guess it will have to be a subtle undertone for the most focused students. Even just sitting straighter becomes more than just sukhasana--there's something of the divine in that floating feeling you get when the upper body is exactly aligned over the lower...
Monday, February 02, 2009
Sucked into the Black Hole of Facebook
Like everyone one else over forty, I joined Facebook last month (as in three days ago, but, officially, last month). I resisted it for awhile, because I knew full well what would happen; I would get sucked in, obsessed, and shirk all my other extra-curricular activities to see who had responded, if anyone commented, and what they all look like these days.
I know this was invented for/by twenty year-olds, but it's an amazing gift to us "oldsters." What a great way to fill in your past (if you want your past filled, I guess). I feel about fb sort of the way I felt about email, when I finally figured it out back in 1994 in grad school--two floppy disks switched in and out of a single drive, long addresses entered, eternal waits for dial-up connection (beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, dong, dong, dong, kkkkkkkkkkkkk). Back then, I was in my twenties and couldn't believe how easily I could reestablish contact with "long lost" friends from 1991. And the emails were quick and breezy and you could feel connected to some one else's life without running up phone bills or writing long letters (remember, that was pre-cell phone)(and before cars were invented).
What goes around, comes around, altho this time it's people I haven't communicated with for 20 to 25 years. They have teenagers who look like they did, the last time I saw them. They have love and lost and had major successes and failures and put some mileage on the odometer. My friend Jeff calls it "one-stop shopping" because it's all the fun of a high school reunion, without the awkward cocktail hour.
Some of my friends shudder at the idea of "putting it all out there" or being available to whoever wants to look. I figure if you exist, you probably have an internet presense and if some body wants to find you, they will. I don't really understand posting anything you wouldn't want your mother to see (she could find it, too, if she wanted to), but chatting with your freshman roommate of 1985 is kind of a hoot.
I wonder what this will do for how we think of our past. I had regrets about people I have let slip through the cracks and figured I'd never hear from again (there's only so many pages of Google hits I feel like scrolling thru). I wondered how this kid and that work friend turned out...now, there's a chance I may find out. I suppose there's something bittersweet about the finality of a discontinued friendship, but I think the hope of rekindling is nicer.
We'll see. The chick I walked with for high school graduation sez the glow dies down after a few weeks and you can get back to work. I guess I have until Valentine's Day...
I know this was invented for/by twenty year-olds, but it's an amazing gift to us "oldsters." What a great way to fill in your past (if you want your past filled, I guess). I feel about fb sort of the way I felt about email, when I finally figured it out back in 1994 in grad school--two floppy disks switched in and out of a single drive, long addresses entered, eternal waits for dial-up connection (beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, dong, dong, dong, kkkkkkkkkkkkk). Back then, I was in my twenties and couldn't believe how easily I could reestablish contact with "long lost" friends from 1991. And the emails were quick and breezy and you could feel connected to some one else's life without running up phone bills or writing long letters (remember, that was pre-cell phone)(and before cars were invented).
What goes around, comes around, altho this time it's people I haven't communicated with for 20 to 25 years. They have teenagers who look like they did, the last time I saw them. They have love and lost and had major successes and failures and put some mileage on the odometer. My friend Jeff calls it "one-stop shopping" because it's all the fun of a high school reunion, without the awkward cocktail hour.
Some of my friends shudder at the idea of "putting it all out there" or being available to whoever wants to look. I figure if you exist, you probably have an internet presense and if some body wants to find you, they will. I don't really understand posting anything you wouldn't want your mother to see (she could find it, too, if she wanted to), but chatting with your freshman roommate of 1985 is kind of a hoot.
I wonder what this will do for how we think of our past. I had regrets about people I have let slip through the cracks and figured I'd never hear from again (there's only so many pages of Google hits I feel like scrolling thru). I wondered how this kid and that work friend turned out...now, there's a chance I may find out. I suppose there's something bittersweet about the finality of a discontinued friendship, but I think the hope of rekindling is nicer.
We'll see. The chick I walked with for high school graduation sez the glow dies down after a few weeks and you can get back to work. I guess I have until Valentine's Day...
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