It wasn’t such a “good morning” on my mat earlier this week.  In fact, as I fell out of a standing balance for the third time, I actually muttered the words, “This stinks.”  Clearly, if I was muttering on my mat, I wasn’t moving with my breath.  The reality was that I hadn’t been able to settle into my breath at all that morning – even in the opening Sun Salutations when my breath is often at its steadiest, mine was all over the place.  The deal breaker, though, came mid-way through the seated postures as I wrapped myself into bound lotus and began to roll around in a circle.   Not even half-way through my circle, I got stuck.  There I was, on my side like a dead or dying bug, arms all tangled up with my legs.  There are no two ways about it -- it is funny to even think about a grown woman stuck in a knot alone on her yoga mat.  But that morning, being that woman in that awkward position, it felt much more exasperating than humorous.  After I managed to extricate my arms from my legs (which took some doing in that position) and get myself upright, I grumpily heaved myself through the last of the postures (thankfully, they weren’t many) without even trying to get anything out of my practice.

 

That practice stunk.

 

Wouldn’t you know my yoga teacher would choose that particular day to call to say, “Hi?”  By the time we talked, enough time had passed since I’d been literally stuck on my mat that I could see the humor in the experience, so I told her about my cruddy practice.  While she did laugh (who wouldn’t?), she also managed to turn my whole messy, stinky experience into a gift.  She said, “We have practices like that so we can really appreciate the amazing times on our mat when everything comes together.”

 

Hmm.

 

The best yoga practices of all leave us glowing.  It’s hard to put into words, but something inside us transforms or lights up after yoga.  When we’re on our mats, it may seem like we’re working with our bodies (and that yucky morning, I couldn’t even get that together!), but we’re really working with body, mind and spirit.  It is the act of connecting (actually, re-connecting) these three elements of ourselves that leaves us glowing.  Our bodies are exhilarated – literally buzzing from the energy we moved around them in the stretching, twisting and opening movements of the asanas.  Our minds are rested, stable and focused from the time we’ve spent paying such careful attention to what we’re doing on our mats that it has been a while since they’ve wandered off into desire or worry.  Our spirits are awake and peaceful – shining a little brighter because our quieted minds have allowed us to tune into our heart and soul for a little while.

 

As much as I disliked my awkward, bumbling practice earlier this week, I think my teacher is right.  Having a rough one does shine a new light on all the smooth, nurturing times I have on my mat.  Having a rough one deepens my realization of the gifts I often receive from my practice.  While I certainly wasn’t glowing as I rolled up my mat that morning, thanks to my teacher’s words, my stinky practice was not devoid of gifts.  I just don’t think it’s possible to unroll our mats without being touched in some way by the power of this practice.

 

Namaste,

Amy

 

It is the nature of the world we live in that we are constantly bombarded by things to think about.  We have access to information – way more information than we probably need – at literally every minute of the day.  No matter where we are – whether we’re sitting on the beach, driving in the car, hiking in the woods, watching the kids play in the pool or walking down a city sidewalk -- we can get information on political campaigns, the economy, global warming, the antics of Hollywood stars, the rising cost of a barrel of oil, you name it.  These days we don’t even have to turn on the television or the computer.  High-tech cell phones and Blackberries have brought the world of information literally into the palm of our hand.

 

As if this gigantic influx of information weren’t already more than enough for us to manage, our minds are designed to think -- and think they do!  They are creating thoughts even without all the external stimuli provided by our modern world.  In fact, I read somewhere that our minds think 60,000 thoughts a day.  Processing, categorizing, assessing and developing a position on all the information we receive and thoughts we think is hard work.  Without us even being aware that it’s happening, our minds gear up to a feverish pace.  This is stressful even when we’re so accustomed to the pace that it seems perfectly normal to us.  In order to stay healthy and productive, every so often we need to “unplug” from the information torrent that rushes through us and around us all day long.  We need to take regular, restorative breaks from thinking, in other words.

 

The quiet calm we find on our yoga mats can provide exactly the vacation from thinking that we need.  Our yoga practice is designed to help our minds settle down.  Because we must focus so intently to synchronize our breathing and our movements, our minds are fully occupied so they stop forming other thoughts.  If we do happen to drift off into a daydream or get carried away by a worry, our bodies will shift out of position or the smooth rhythm of our breath will break.  When this happens, it’s like a little alarm going off.  We’re jarred away from our thoughts right back into the present moment and our present activity on our mats.

 

That’s the way the practice is designed, at least.  However, my mind seems to have developed a new trick to stay hyperactive while I’m on my mat.  Lately, I have found myself thinking frenetically about each asana while I’m in it.  Which muscles am I using right now?  How could I verbalize this for my students?  Would this feel better if I shifted?  Have I engaged my core?  Am I working too hard?  Am I not working hard enough?  On and on it goes.  A thought or two as we settle into an asana is expected and just fine.  But, in my case, it’s as if I’m creating my own continuous stream of yoga information to replace the world’s information stream from which I’ve unplugged to come to my mat.

 

All of these thoughts – even when they are focused on our asanas -- can prevent us from settling from our busy minds into the peace and quiet of our bodies.  I am learning that I need to do more than keep my mind from pulling me to revisit things that happened earlier in the day or from shooting ahead to things to come.  I also have to shush it when it is actually focused on the here and now on my mat!  Oy!  But, when I do settle deeply enough into my body that I escape my chatty mind it feels great.  My breath is deep and rich and slow.  My postures flow smoothly from one to the next.  My head, empty of thoughts, is fulfilled by simply observing what my body is doing on my mat.  When I sit up from savasana after a practice where I’ve actually reached this place of silence, even if just for a little while, I feel like I’ve been on a brief vacation.  I feel rejuvenated and centered and balanced.  Best of all, I sometimes even find that my mind remains at a slower speed for the rest of the day.

 

When we regularly reset the speed of our busy minds by settling into our bodies on our yoga mats, we don’t just benefit from those few minutes at a slower internal pace.  We also get better at determining when we’re too revved up.  We become more aware of how we feel when our minds are too full or too busy.  This sensitivity and heightened awareness serve us well.  Instead of spending days and days unwittingly spinning at warp speed, we can deliberately “unplug.”  Perhaps we decide to “unplug” from the world and leave the Blackberry at home, cancel some of our subscriptions or limit the amount of time we spend in front of the computer or television.  Better yet, perhaps we decide to “unplug” from our own minds and hit our mats each day as a conscious, physical act of slowing and quieting down.  Doing so leaves us much better prepared to navigate at our own pace the flood of information that flows through our already hectic lives.

 

I wish you peace and quiet,

Amy

 

Do you know that old Joni Mitchell song “Big Yellow Taxi?”  I’m sure you’ve heard it.  The line that stands out the most to me is “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.  They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.”  I woke up this morning with it going through my head.  (Actually, it was the Counting Crows remake going through my head, but that’s just a technicality.  Want to listen while you read?  Click here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TsPh_8Dxl3E.)  It is a great song.  I love to sing along.  But it usually leaves me feeling a little wistful.  It’s sad to even consider that it’s only in losing things or people that we really appreciate them.  In fact, practicing yoga teaches us to pay such careful, deliberate attention to our lives – to the gifts and to the challenges – that we appreciate and are grateful for everything right in the moment.

 

Sometimes, however, a moment (or more) without something or someone is a gift.  In other words, sometimes a little separation can offer a renewed richness when we come back to something.  My week last week was filled to the brim with yoga – both teaching and practicing.  It is wonderful to have so much time and so many opportunities to experience and share the practice that means so much to me.  But sometimes (and, yes, I feel bad about this) I get “done.”  When I finished my last class on Friday, I was done.  I didn’t even think about unrolling my mat for the next two days.  On Monday morning, after my little two-day hiatus, I was completely restored.  My energy to teach and to practice had returned full throttle.  And, I have to say, my body felt better for having had the break.

 

We’re entering into the summer season -- a time when schedules shift and change.  For some of us, our kids arrive back in our lives full-time as schools close for summer vacation.  Even for those of us without kids, these months have a certain carefree, loose feeling about them.  Offices are slightly mellower and slightly emptier as so many people take vacations.  The days are brighter and longer.  Our yards and gardens beckon to us – filling our free time with mowing and pruning and playing.  We may find the rhythms of the most ordinary days changed as we stay up a little later enjoying beautiful summer nights (There’s another song in there …) and sleep a little later in the mornings.

 

When schedules shift and change the regular times that we set aside for yoga may not work.  When our children are home or we’re away on vacation, it can be challenging to make time for yoga.  When we’re away from home, it can be hard to even find a place to practice yoga.  The number of times a week (or a month!) that we practice may decrease.  The length of time we can stay on our mats when we do actually get to unroll them might be shorter.  It’s OK.  (You read that right – it’s OK.)  The thing about your yoga is that it’s in you.  You can breathe on a plane.  You can stretch a little on a beach.  You can find a few quiet moments at a weekend family reunion.  Just as the rhythm of summer days can be a little gentler and easier than the rest of the year, take it easy and be gentle on yourselves about your practice.  When you do get on your mats, you may just find that the extra time between practices has brought a renewed richness to your yoga experience not unlike my experience this Monday.  And, you might find (as I did) that the renewed richness leaves you wanting more!  You might find yourself inspired and invigorated to rededicate yourself fully to your practice.

 

So, rest easy that we aren’t going to find ourselves in the depressing situation that Joni Mitchell wrote about in her song -- waking up to all we had only after it’s gone.  Our yoga practices have taught us to live with more consciousness and awareness than that!  And, even if our yoga does feel like it’s gone on vacation over the next couple of months, I think there’s something to the old maxim “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”  When you do get back to your mats, you just may find your love affair with yoga has only intensified during the brief separation.  And, when you are here in town and do have time to practice, I’ll be here teaching most of the summer (check the calendar page on my website for my vacation dates).  I’d love to share the practice with you.

 

Namaste,

Amy

 

For the last week our son has been having trouble sleeping.  (For the record, this is a child who has been sleeping soundly through the night since he was ten months old.)  While at Blockbuster over the weekend he happened to see the DVD case for a movie called “Childs Play.”  Apparently there is a relatively horrifying picture of a maniacal, murderous doll named Chuckie on the cover.  This picture has somehow worked its way into his memory and when he closes his eyes to go to sleep at night a vivid, highly upsetting image of Chuckie pops into his head.  For the first two nights, my husband and I handled the situation as if we were dealing with a typical bad dream.  We turned on the light – and left it on.  We had our son tell us what was going on because sometimes talking through a dream makes it seem less real and less frightening.  We suggested that, while awake, he follow the dream through to an ending that he created.  We even suggested endings.  I said he could embrace Chuckie only to find he’d turned into a regular toy.  My husband suggested chucking him off a cliff into a bottomless pit.  Nothing worked.  Our son insisted this wasn’t a dream but a picture -- and it was not budging.

 

When our son appeared on the stairs visibly shaken and in tears for the third night in a row, it dawned on me that, while it seemed in every way that we were dealing with a recurring nightmare, this was something else entirely.  You see, our son is about to finish fifth grade.  Next year, he’ll leave the safe, small, comfortable environment of the school he’s loved for six years to start middle school.  For the last few weeks at school there has been a pretty heavy emphasis on “The End.”  The fifth graders have been to camp.  They’re playing weekly baseball games after school.  There have been (and will be) parties and photo-ops and many, many walks down memory lane.  The upcoming change that our child faces is a big one.  (I, for one, clearly remember the mixed-up feelings of graduating from elementary school and that was about a million years ago.)   Change is weighing heavily on our child.  When he’s awake and busy, he’s excited for middle school.  But things often seem different when you’re lying in bed at night.  That third night that I found him on the stairs again, I realized that Chuckie is the face of his fears and worries as he approaches this life change.

 

Things are often not what they seem.  Many times we need to search beyond the obvious symptoms to make our way to the root of the problem.  It’s only when we understand what is really going on that we can begin to work toward a solution.  Two summers ago I had awful pain in my wrist.  I could not bear weight on my hands.  I felt that my yoga practice was in jeopardy and I panicked.  I saw doctor after doctor.  I had X-rays and MRIs.  No one could figure out what was wrong.  My yoga teacher is fabulously calm.  She encouraged me to keep practicing and helped me figure out how to flow through a modified form of Sun Salutations supporting myself on my elbows rather than my hands.  I kept at it, trusting that my wrist would heal.  In the meantime, the modified push-ups, Upward Facing Dogs and Downward Facing Dogs were doing more than just taking my weight off my wrist.  I began to notice a new broad feeling across my chest.  Then I began to sense that my shoulders were opening.  After literally months, one day I felt the urge to try a push-up on my hands.  No pain!  Over another month or two, I eased back into my full practice and found my upper body completely re-made.  Not only was my wrist pain-free, but my shoulders and chest were open.  Postures which had never before been available to me were suddenly possible.  I realized that the pain in my wrist had not been a wrist injury at all but referred pain -- a symptom of my highly restricted shoulder.  No wonder the doctors couldn’t find anything!

 

The next time you find yourself fighting with your spouse or roommate over socks left on the floor, or another driver flips an obscene gesture your way, or your child is acting in the strangest way, entertain the idea that perhaps you’re seeing a symptom of something else.  Chances are a pair of misplaced socks has not really shaken your love for your spouse.  Perhaps you’re feeling overburdened on the domestic upkeep front or out of control at work so you’re searching for some control at home and need the house to be ship-shape.   Chances are that your brake lights have not wrecked that other driver’s day.  Perhaps they are in a panicked rush for the hospital or are venting their bad mood safely on you rather than on their boss who just threatened their job security.  Chances are the maniacal doll, Chuckie, will not forever haunt our son and he will soon return to his peaceful night habits.  More importantly, however, chances are our son will be as happy, safe and secure in middle school next year as he has been in our wonderful elementary school for the last six years.  I look forward to watching proudly as he navigates the change.

 

Namaste,

Amy

 

The other day I was driving to my daughter’s Saturday afternoon lacrosse practice.  All three kids were in the car and in boisterous moods.  (Translation:  Loud.  Loud and silly.)  As I was driving along, suddenly I realized that all three were shouting my name.  I snapped to attention to discover that I’d driven right past the lacrosse fields and appeared to be heading to their school.  “Where were you going, Mommy?!?” they asked.  I told them I’d been daydreaming and that part of my brain must have decided to drop them all off at school.  (Wishful thinking?)  Well, this struck the kids as hysterically funny.  So funny, in fact, that they’ve brought it up several times since.  “Remember when Mommy wasn’t paying attention and forgot to turn into lacrosse?” they giggle.

 

As lovely as it would feel to be able to say I had slipped into a meditative state, that’s just not the case.  In fact, precisely the opposite was true.  The kids got it right.  I wasn’t paying attention.  I was on “autopilot,” and completely consumed by the eighteen million thoughts swirling around in my brain.  I had let those thoughts sweep me away from the present moment.  I wasn’t listening to my children joke around in the back seat.  I wasn’t paying attention to my route.  I clearly wasn’t paying attention to my destination!  I was not paying a bit of attention to what I was doing.  I was fully absorbed in the oh-so-fascinating and alluring activity of my mind.

 

“Autopilot” is the exact opposite state of mind to the one our yoga practice is teaching us to develop.  While we’re on our mats, our intention is to be completely absorbed in what we’re doing.  We work to pay attention even if the mechanics of what we’re doing do not necessarily require 100% of our concentration.  After all, many of us have moved through the stretches on our yoga mats thousands of times.  Yoga asanas are as familiar as, say, the work of driving a car, so it could be easy to slip into “autopilot” while on our mats.  Yet, despite the familiarity of the postures, we intend to focus our attention deliberately and keenly on our bodies and our breathing.  We’re aware of subtle nuances of alignment.  We’re aware of each inhalation and exhalation.  We are synching our movements with our breaths.  We’re even aware of our thinking!  When we catch ourselves drifting off into a thought, we bring our awareness right back to our mat.  We are truly in the moment because it is impossible to be anywhere else and maintain the intricate precision (inside and out) that each posture requires.

 

It clearly doesn’t take all our attention to get into a familiar stretch like Downward Facing Dog (Adho Mukha Svanasana).  We can get in and out of Down Dog just fine on “autopilot.”  We’re not going to fall over or hurt ourselves if we’re not paying attention.   Similarly, I was in no danger of wrecking the car that Saturday afternoon while I was on “autopilot.”  “Autopilot” seems to leave just enough awareness to keep us “on the road,” as it were.  But reaching my destination – which was the whole point of getting behind the wheel in the first place -- turned out to be beyond me!  So too, moving carelessly in and out of Downward Facing Dog misses the whole point.  Sure, we might get a stretch in the back of our legs, but we’re missing the real reason for coming to our mats.  We’re missing the experience of fluidity, shifts and changes offered when we’re working with our breath.  We’re probably also missing many of the possible openings in our back that are available to us if we align our bodies correctly.  We’re certainly missing the peace and power of five breaths totally focused on what we’re doing right then and there.

 

It is not just that total (TOTAL!) focus feels great.  Maintaining total focus shifts our experience and enables us to receive all the gifts our practice can give us, from the obvious stretching and strengthening, to the more subtle self-awareness we gain over time.  Instead of having our experience (on our mats or off) diluted by the distraction of thoughts of other things, when totally focusing we can fully wring the gifts and lessons from what we’re doing – whether what we’re doing is challenging or not.  Maintaining total focus also greatly increases our potential.  When we’re not distracted, we simply function a lot better.  We are sharper, clearer, and more capable.  There’s no two ways about it.  When we give 100% of ourselves to something we reap the benefits a hundredfold.

 

To begin to live the way we are when we’re on our yoga mats is the ultimate intention of our practice.  This week, whether you find yourself shuttling children hither and yon, making breakfast, writing a presentation for a client or working in the yard, give it a try!  Turn off “autopilot” and take the wheel!  See if you can find in your life off your mat the fluidity, the capability, and the power of total focus that enriches and enlivens your yoga practice.

 

Namaste,

Amy

 

Yesterday I found myself cleaning the driveway with my electric blower for the third time in three days.  But I did not mind the task.  Actually, I enjoy blowing the driveway.  Perhaps it is because the job is monotonous and rather soothing.  Perhaps it is because the task is rather mindless which makes it a little meditative.  Perhaps it is because I get to see the result of my efforts immediately.  While all of this is good, I think the best part is that I get a great sense of satisfaction in reaching the end of the driveway and finishing the job.  I just love turning around to see that clean sweep of pavement!  But even as I stand and look at the fruits of my labors, I know deep inside that I haven’t really finished.  My sense of completion is an illusion.  That clean driveway is fleeting at best.  This time of year, all it takes is one strong breeze and little maple “helicopters” will be scattered across my clean slate yet again!

 

I know that my sense of pleasure in cleaning my driveway does not extend to us all, but I suspect we each have our own favorite mundane chore that gives us a sense of satisfaction despite the repetitive nature of the task.  Some people enjoy vacuuming or cleaning the kitchen (you know who you are!).  They feel great when the job is done even though I know their homes don’t stay clean any longer than mine does -- about an hour!  Others take pleasure in doing laundry despite the fact that there are often dirty clothes in the hamper again before the job is done.  Still others are drawn to weeding their gardens – a job that really does need to be done daily.

 

Tasks like these are good ways for us to practice yoga off our mats.  On our mats, we learn how to stretch our bodies into different postures.  As we do so, it’s easy to imagine finishing our work in an asana.  Fairly quickly, though, we realize that, while we certainly make progress and grow more confident and comfortable in them, we never master a posture.  There is always further to stretch.  There are always more nuances to explore.  On our mats, we practice staying focused on the journey rather than the destination.

 

Even the most basic of postures, such as Chaturanga (Low Push-Up) can keep us occupied learning and exploring and growing for years and years!  In fact, earlier this week, I spent about thirty minutes with my teacher working on precisely this posture – one I’ve been practicing for seven years!  I can vividly remember my journey through Chaturanga.  A month or two into practicing, I first managed the push-up with my knees off the floor.  Many more months passed until doing that began to feel remotely natural and manageable throughout the entirety of my practice!  I also remember, about a year after my first yoga class, figuring out how to roll over my toes as I moved from Chaturanga into Upward Facing Dog.  And this week, I discovered yet another nuance of the posture in keeping my shoulders broad and open as I lower myself through the push-up.  Each of these milestones was exciting.  In fact, I recall dashing over to my teacher (who, at that time, did not know me very well at all and, honestly, probably did not share my excitement!) to share my news that I’d done a push-up without dropping to my knees!  Each of these milestones was but another step in my journey -- yet each was a step worthy of celebration.

 

Upon reflection, I see that, when they happened, each of my successes in Chaturanga felt like crossing a finish line.  But I was not finished, and I’m still not.  Just as I love “finishing” my driveway (which probably needs to be blown again as I type), I love the feeling of successfully learning something new within a yoga posture.  I feel free to indulge in a little internal (and sometimes even public) celebration when my diligence and dedication pay off on my mat.  Illusion or not, we can find great satisfaction in those moments when we recognize the fruits of our labors.  Whether it is discovering progress on our mats, or the simple satisfaction of relishing how tidy the house looks when the driveway is swept clean, it feels good to “arrive” at a destination.  And that is all well and good, provided we understand that, as good as it feels to “get there,” we haven’t really reached a destination at all.  We’ve just arrived at another stopping off place along our way.

 

So, the next time you “finish” something, pat yourself on the back, smile a little internal smile -- or even dash across the studio to share your news with your yoga teacher!  After all, the more rewarding our work feels, the more likely we are to keep at it.  Step back, take a long look, and be proud of what you’ve done.  Then let those feelings of success carry you forward as you continue on to your next opportunity to cross a “finish line” --- and then to begin again.

 

Namaste,

Amy

May 9, 2008

 

This week has been one of transition for me.  Tuesday and Wednesday were my final classes in the Spiritual Direction training program I’ve been enrolled in for the last two years.  I arrived home late Wednesday night after a graduation dinner feeling mellow and sad about parting from my fellow students.  Yesterday was a mad dash back into “normal” life filled with work, friends and kid stuff.  All good, but the sudden shift from the quiet focus of school to the circus of a regular Thursday really threw me for a loop!  These types of transitions, while perhaps not as dramatic, happen literally all the time.  My brother has a hard time shifting from work mode right into family mode and needs some “in between” time when he gets home.  I have a friend whose husband used to travel all week for work.  Having spent the work week living on her own, she had a really hard time shifting back into partnership mode when he returned.  I sometimes have a hard time shifting from my early-morning “Amy Hour” to Mommy-Mode when the kids get up.

 

When I began practicing yoga, I found myself dealing with jarring transitions every single time I went to a class or unrolled my mat at home.  I found that it’s pretty hard to dash into a yoga class and fall into a meditative state directly from the whirlwind of tasks that fills our lives.  I found it was often even harder to roll up my mat and re-enter life and all its activities and demands.  Many of us need some time to shift gears.  Lucky for us, yoga does an excellent job teaching us to ease our way through transitions – no matter how jarring.  Unless we practice yoga right after waking, we arrive on our mats somewhere in the midst of our day.  We know our intention is to shift from our heads (and all the tasks, lists, wishes and worries that fill them) into our spirits.  We know we yearn for that quiet, calm space and time – that’s why we practice in the first place!  But it can be really hard to get from Point A to Point B.  Yoga is designed to take us there -- step by step.

 

If we practice yoga in classes, simply arriving in the studio can be a powerful cue to our minds that it is time to begin to settle down.  Choosing a designated place in which to practice yoga at home can provide a similar cue.  Once we’re on our mats, we begin by taking some deep breaths.  Filling our lungs fully and emptying them completely slows the rate of our breathing.  This automatically slows us down – physically and mentally.  The kind of yoga I practice and teach (ashtanga) opens with Sun Salutations.  Something about this repetitive series of movements is soothing.  There are no surprises.  (And there are a lot of Sun Salutations, so it takes some time to move through them!)  The time we spend in Sun Salutations serves to further quiet our busy minds from the hustle and bustle of life.  As this happens, we begin to shift into a meditative state.  This too happens step by step.  We begin by focusing on the large movements required to move our bodies into and out of postures.  The step of our right leg into position for Virabradrasana (Warrior) or the alignment of our arms in Trikonasana (Triangle), for instance.   At some point as we move through our series, our focus sharpens and shifts to the finer nuances of the postures.  Are we engaging our bandhas and gently lifting the muscles in our lower abdomens to support standing balancing poses such as Vrkasana (Tree)?  Are we stretching into Paschimottanasa (Seated Forward Bend) from within rather than pulling into the posture with our arms?  Are we allowing our breath to inspire each of our movements?  After an hour or so of asana, our focus is honed.  At this point, we can slide into a peaceful, quiet rest or even a true meditation in Savasana (Resting Pose).

 

Over the years, practicing yoga has given me many (many!) chances to practice transitioning from hectic life to the peace of my mat and back again.  It has given me tools that work just as well in times of transition off my mat.  (Who hasn’t yet discovered that those deep yoga breaths that start a class work just as well in a crowded airport or heated meeting?!)  I have to say that I’ve gotten pretty good at arriving for yoga and settling into my quiet time.  I wish I could say I was as proficient at what I call “re-entry!”  Returning from my “Happy Yoga Place” to the hub-bub of “real” life still sets my teeth on edge some days.  But some days (maybe I can even say many days?) I manage to carry a bit of that yoga calm with me off my mat.  Those days, I somehow manage to ease my way back into life.  Those days, I even manage to ease my way through all the various transitions and shifts that fill my days.  I hope days like that are plentiful for you!  Just take it easy -- one step at a time.

 

Namaste,

Amy

 

In the last few weeks I’ve had the privilege of attending workshops with two different yoga teachers.  This has infused both my practice and my teaching with new energy.  Surprisingly, being with these two highly experienced and wise teachers has also bolstered my understanding and trust in the wisdom contained in my own body and heart.  In yoga, we call this wisdom our inner teacher.

 

Because there was such a short span of time between the two workshops, I was still processing the suggestions and ideas I picked up at the first when I started the second.  There had not yet been time to see which bits of wisdom would become mine, and which would end up not “fitting” and would be eliminated.  This is a natural process for us.  We take in, and then we assimilate and eliminate.  It’s the way our bodies handle food.  We take in food.  Our bodies absorb what they need and eliminate what they don’t.  It’s also the way we learn.  Like we take in food, we take in information from teachers and books.  Our minds (and in yoga, our bodies and our spirits) absorb what works at the time.  What doesn’t work is eliminated (for the time being, at least).

 

Personally, I tend to be much more aware of assimilation than I am of elimination.  Learning is my passion.  I deliberately seek out teachers.  I read – a lot.  Sifting out what works and what doesn’t is much less deliberate for me.  It happens almost unconsciously.  Some stuff “sticks” and some just seems to fall away over time.  This is especially true on my yoga mat where my body is doing the assimilating rather than my mind.  Perhaps because it is operating beyond my awareness, I have not consciously developed the same respect for my inner teacher as I have for the teachers and authors who inspire growth and transformation in my practice.

 

The more I’ve studied this practice, the more I’ve come to understand that every teacher has their own “take” on it.  Every teacher shares the practice from their own perspective and experience of it.  In fact, I think the best teachers – the most compelling and inspiring teachers -- are the ones who teach straight from the heart rather than relying overly much on experts and books.  By having the willingness to share their journey, a teacher shines their own special light on what they teach us.

 

As I said, I arrived at the workshop this weekend in a state of assimilation.  Because I had not yet had time to fully absorb and/or eliminate the information I’d received earlier, I had to deliberately open myself to new ideas – especially when they contradicted things I had just learned.  I had to consciously set aside everything already rattling around in my head and try the postures in a new way.  They felt different!

 

In my willingness to experiment and play with the teachings, rather than receiving them as gospel, I reconnected with my inner teacher.  My role as a student shifted.  I felt more empowered.  While I have always chosen what would “stick” and what I’d part ways with, I was suddenly more aware of my active role in the process.  I received this second influx of information in an open and curious frame of mind.  I played and explored and experimented.  I did this with a heightened awareness that my body and my mind would be selecting and eliminating from the knowledge shared with me by two really good teachers.  Like my teachers before me, I would be developing my own “take” on what I was learning.  Consciously accepting that my inner teacher had the last word was a tremendous role reversal for me!

 

As always, what we learn, explore and experiment with on our yoga mats flows easily off our mats and into our lives.  We don’t need to be studying and learning about yoga to revitalize and reconnect with our inner teachers.  We can be raising children or working on our tennis game or developing marketing strategies.  In whatever we do, it is invigorating and inspiring to seek out teachers.  Exposing ourselves to the teachings of those we admire allows us to continue to grow and transform.  This growth and transformation does not make us into replicas of our teachers, however.  Our goal is to rise to our own best potential and to grow in our own directions.  To do this, we not only assimilate knowledge, but we eliminate that which does not fit for us.  We are creative with what we learn.  It is our receptivity and creativity that move us further along our path -- thanks to the wisdom we receive from those who traveled ahead of us, as well as the trust and faith we have in our own inner teacher.

 

Namaste,

Amy

“Caminante, no hay camino; se hace el camino al andar.”

“Walker, there isn’t one way; one makes the way by walking.”

- Spanish saying

 

For the past month and a half, I’ve been re-teaching a series of classes that introduces yoga over eight weeks.  While there is plenty within the practice of asana (postures) alone to fill eight years let alone eight weeks, I’m also trying to introduce the “rest” of yoga – the ways it serves as a spiritual tool, its guiding moral and ethical principles, the breathing, and its various approaches to concentration and meditation.  As I’ve worked to refine this enormous wealth of material into a finite series of really short talks, I’ve had to find a structure for it so that it will make sense to my students.  I worry a little that this structure could create the illusion that yoga itself is linear and, therefore, relatively straightforward to navigate – that’s the way our Western minds like things, after all.  However, though I needed a beginning, middle and end to my introductory talks, there truly is not a prescribed beginning, middle and end to the practice.  The suggested path of the practice is most often depicted as a circle or a wheel.  Just as there is no starting place to a circle, there is no specific “way” to embark on yoga.  There is no one right place to begin.  There is not a pre-planned path through the practice.

 

Each of us comes to yoga as a unique being.  As such, each of us has to make our way through yoga in a manner befitting our own special gifts and needs and desires.  Some of us show up for the first time looking for exercise and contentment with our bodies.  Some of us show up looking for meditation or peace of mind.  Some of us show up flexible.  Some of us show up strong.  Some of us arrive on our mats with a firmly rooted faith.  Some of us arrive searching for deeper meaning in our lives.  Some of us bring to our mats a deeply ingrained ability to focus.  Others bring a sense of joy in movement.  One thing is true for all of us – we each show up on our mats uniquely touched by our life experiences and directed by our own special inner make-up.

 

When I reflect on my own path through yoga, I am reminded of journeying along with my classmates through four years at our liberal arts college.  Although we were enrolled at the same school, not one of my friends pursued the same course of study as I did.  Even within my major, there was a wide spectrum of specializations among us students.  We each had our own special focus.  We each had our own passions and interests.  We each had areas that came naturally.  We each struggled in different areas.  Some of my friends deliberately focused on the required courses to get them “out of the way” in their first two years.  Others jumped enthusiastically into electives and found themselves in 100-level math courses as seniors.  There was no right or wrong path to our degree – only choices.  We all had to find or make our own way.

 

Like graduation at the end of four years of college, it can be said that there is a universal “end” in yoga.  No matter the path we choose, or the way we walk, yoga brings us all to a deeper understanding of our selves.  Yoga brings us all to a place of peace from which we are better able to reach out in love and kindness to the world around us.  And, like college graduation, it turns out that the “end” of yoga is not an ending at all but another beginning – a place to continue on from.

 

As my friends and I came to understand, life goes on after our walk down that aisle in those silly looking hats.  Life goes on in directions we could never have imagined that sunny, spring day.  Our journey simply prepared us a little better to meet and embrace our lives.  Whatever our path through the practice of yoga, whatever way we walk, it is right because it is ours.  It will prepare us a little better for whatever we encounter next on our path through life.  We collect lessons from our practice, we follow the direction of our heart, and, as we take one step at a time, our way is revealed.  It is in continuing to walk that we make our way – not the way, but our way.

 

Namaste,

Amy

 

Have you ever had the chance to watch a seasoned yogi move through postures you can’t even imagine doing?  Or, perhaps, as you’ve passed your local tennis courts, you’ve been caught up watching a player with gorgeous strokes and a serve you aspire to?  For me, witnessing really beautiful yoga can be like visiting my mom in May.  I think my gardens look pretty great until I step into hers and am faced with true artistry.  Depending on the day or my mood or my general level of confidence, I find myself responding differently.   Some days, I might feel a twinge of envy and think, “I’ll never be able to pull that off.”  Other days, I feel inspired at witnessing someone who has clearly worked so hard and come so far.  Still other days an encounter with excellence leaves me excited about my own potential – whether it’s on my yoga mat, in my garden or even (Gosh!  It’s been a long time!) on the tennis court.

 

Twice in the last year, I attended a week-long workshop with David Keil, a teacher from Miami.  He offers Mysore-style classes where each student moves through a series of yoga postures at his or her own pace while David walks around the room adjusting and offering suggestions.  He deliberately limits the size of his classes so that he can really gain an understanding of each student’s body over the week.  I tend to be fairly focused when I’m practicing and don’t typically notice much of what is going on around me, but in this smaller group and close setting I found it hard not to be aware that some of my fellow students were moving through the second (and even third!) series of Ashtanga postures while I practiced away in the first.

 

I vividly remember the first day of my first week of these classes.  I experienced a surge of “yoga envy” as I practiced next to my teacher in a room full of other teachers.  The thing about yoga is that, when they’re done well, even the most difficult postures look effortless.  As I watched my fellow students move fluidly through postures that were totally beyond me, it was easy for me to forget how hard they were working, how much practice had gone into their journey, and how far they had surely come to gain their physical capabilities.  It was even easier for me to forget how hard I was working, how much practice had gone into my own journey, and how far I had come as well.  I felt confused as heavy feelings of inadequacy, rather than a yoga after-glow, settled over me as I drove home that afternoon.  Somewhere deep inside that heavy cloud a little voice tried to remind me that this wasn’t what my practice was all about!

 

Thankfully, I had four more classes to attend that week!  As I began to move on my mat the second day, somehow my perspective changed.  Rather than seeing all that the students around me could physically do (and all that I couldn’t do), I found myself marveling at the quiet focus and energy in the room.  I found my own focus settling down onto my mat and my body.  I felt honored and inspired to be practicing with people who clearly shared my passion for yoga.   This same quiet, intense, inward focus carried me through the remainder of that week.  In fact, it carried me deeper into my own practice long after the workshop had ended.  Over the weeks and months of practice that followed, I felt my body changing and different postures opening to me.  I was witnessing my own journey within these physical changes and felt excited about the potential of my practice.

 

The second time around, when I returned to the studio I recognized many of the same faces.  I wondered briefly if I’d experience that same surge of envy I’d felt six months earlier.  Then, I deliberately exhaled that thought away as I joined in the opening chant and began my practice.  In a surprising twist, witnessing the distraction and discouragement caused by my envy in the earlier workshop yielded a great gift.  I’m learning to use my feelings as an alarm of sorts.  When I find myself face to face with extraordinary skill (on or off my mat) and feel myself slipping into the clutches of envy, I now pause, breathe and work to shift my focus back to the gifts and the potential of my own journey.

 

This “alarm” doesn’t always work, of course.  I’m just practicing.  There are days when, no matter how I try, I slip right back into envy over and over again.  On those days, I’m learning to give in.  When walking through my mother’s garden, I try to relish its beauty.  I try to find ideas and lessons in the special way she mixes and mingles her plants.  On my mat, I allow my gaze to fall on those agile, strong and supple yogis in the room with me.  And, as I watch them, I try to allow their discipline, intensity and devotion to inspire and motivate me in my own practice.  I’m sure this could work on the tennis court, too.  Just make sure your partner knows you’ve momentarily taken your eye off the ball!

 

Namaste,

Amy

 

When we hear habits discussed, it is often “bad” habits -- nail biting, for example.  More often than not, we slide unaware into these types of behaviors.  I don’t know of anyone who decided that biting their nails would have better results than a monthly manicure!  Something about the way we’re wired makes us susceptible to habits.  If we do something often enough, we find ourselves repeating that action without much thought.  While I don’t bite my nails, I have gotten into the habit of having a handful of chocolate at 2:30 to combat my mid-afternoon “sleepies.” Only now, I find myself reaching for the bag of M&Ms even when I’m not feeling tired.  Oy!

 

But habits can also be “good.”  We can choose to develop habits which will care for our bodies, soothe our minds or enrich our lives.  We can use our human susceptibility to habits for our own benefit, in other words.  Two years ago, my husband (who is not naturally a morning person) decided he needed to get in better shape.  He began dragging himself out of bed and going for a run before work three mornings a week.  What began as a colossal act of will is now a habit for him.  In fact, on days that he misses his run, he actually misses it!  During a particularly challenging time in my life I began getting up a little earlier to read from a book of meditations and write in a journal.  Over the years, this quiet time has become an indispensable part of my days.  I release worries, recognize hopes, and learn about myself as I read, think and write in the peaceful quiet of my sleeping house.  In fact, on days when I sleep late and get up with the rest of my family, I feel a little out of sorts (some might call it “grumpy”) about having to swing into action without that time to myself.

 

Yoga is a “good” habit we can create in our lives. For it to touch us deeply, we need to practice regularly.  Yoga is not something we accidentally find ourselves doing.  Like my husband’s morning runs or my journaling, we have to make time for yoga in our days or weeks.    We have to consciously decide to practice.  But once we add it to our lives, more often than not we find ourselves “hooked.”  It’s not too hard to get into the habit of yoga because it feels good while we’re doing it and it feels really good once we’re done.  That’s not all, though.  Yoga is a habit that, once we’ve consciously chosen to embrace it, actually helps us to develop conscious awareness in our lives off our mats.

 

Practicing yoga helps us develop awareness of ourselves, our choices and our actions.  We become accustomed to paying attention to our bodies as we move into and out of the stretches.  If we don’t have proper alignment, after all, the postures don’t feel good!  We develop the ability to notice how we’re feeling on our mats.  We can realize, for example, when fear is holding us back from trying to balance on our hands in Bakasana (Crow).  We can even learn to recognize unconscious habits on our mats.  Perhaps we notice that, without even being aware of what we’re doing, we’ve gotten into the habit of catching our breath or fixing our hair while the rest of the class is balancing for five breaths in Vrkasana (Tree).  We’re habitually opting out rather than continuing to try to figure out this standing posture which has eluded us to date.

 

The heightened self-awareness we create through our yoga practice can be a powerful tool in building awareness of the way we live our lives.  This awareness can help us recognize our habits.  Once we realize we have a habit, we are then better equipped to determine whether or not it is beneficial to us.  If we notice a “bad” habit, our recognition and awareness of the habit can be a highly effective step toward changing our behavior.  If, on the other hand, we notice a “good” habit, our recognition can help reinforce that behavior.  Our heightened awareness can even help us recognize when we would like to create a new habit in our lives!

 

Now I don’t know if it was my habit of practicing yoga that helped me become aware that I had a mid-afternoon chocolate habit.  I can, however, say with certainty that my yoga practice has helped me pause before reaching for the M&Ms over the last few weeks.  More often than not, since I’ve started paying attention and applying conscious choice in these moments, I have chosen to bypass the candy and have actually felt good about deciding to take better care of my body.  (Now, here’s hoping I’ll also become aware of a smaller derriere when I find myself in a dressing room trying on swim suits!)

 

Namaste,

Amy

 

It is well known that there is a certain risk associated with setting out to do something -- anything -- with high expectations that it will be great or “just what we’ve been looking for.”  It could be something as mundane as going to a movie that has received great reviews and has been raved about by everyone we know.  More often than not, the movie fails to measure up to our heightened expectations.  We end up leaving the theater just a little disappointed, thinking, perhaps, that we might have enjoyed the film more if we hadn’t been expecting anything at all.

 

Recently, circumstances conspired which allowed my family to prove the merit of this notion.  We had planned a four-day ski weekend with close friends months in advance.  My husband and I were excited.  Our children were excited.  Our friends were excited.  The weather was cooperating up in New England with record snow-falls and beautiful skiing conditions rare to the northeast.  (In other words, we would be skiing on actual snow rather than the icy granular stuff we, as New England skiers, are accustomed to!)  Then, illness struck.  Our friends’ oldest son came down with a wicked case of the flu.  “No matter,” we thought, “there’s time.”  But he didn’t get better.  Ever optimistic, we continued making grocery lists and departure plans, but still he didn’t get better.  Two days before we were to leave, the diagnosis came in.  Mono.  Treatment?  Rest, sleep, more rest, and no strenuous activity for two to three weeks.  Suddenly, our highly anticipated vacation with good friends became something else entirely – a family vacation.  Just us.  No distractions.  Just the five of us.

 

Now, I’m not going to say we moped our way up to New Hampshire.  While we were obviously disappointed at the turn of events, we were still looking forward to hitting the slopes.  But our vision of the trip had become much less clear in our minds.  You see, we nearly always vacation with friends or extended family.  We really didn’t know what to expect of four days away just us – and so we headed out expectation-less.

 

Well, I’m not exaggerating when I say that the trip was perfect!  We had fabulous weather and great conditions.  All five of us really enjoyed skiing.  The icing on the cake, however, was the family dynamics during our trip.  As seasoned parents of three children, we would never have dared to dream of a bicker-free long-weekend, but we got one!  Whether the lack of arguing was due to the physical exhaustion of long days outdoors on skis is irrelevant!  We had a great time together.  I came home feeling very lucky to be related to my kids.  Somehow, it seems that having no expectations for how the trip would go allowed us to enjoy it simply as it was.

 

It’s not just in our lives off our yoga mats that expectations impact us.  We often bring expectations with us to our mats.  I remember two Tuesday mornings when I attended a yoga class and had absolutely great practices – real focus, great energy, very meditative.  The next time I was able to go to that class, my hopes were heightened by my expectation that I would have another great experience.  Despite having a perfectly fine practice, I left class feeling as disappointed as I do when an over-hyped movie falls short of my (inflated) expectations.

 

Expectations on our yoga mats can work the other way as well.  I remember times when I unrolled my mat feeling stiff and tired expecting only to will myself through a practice for which I felt too exhausted.  Yet on more than one of those occasions, I left my mat truly surprised to feel strong and energized – my exhaustion gone!  This goes to show that expectations aren’t predictions.  They’re simply points of view or perspectives we carry with us into an experience.  Expectations can be spot-on or way-off.  Right or wrong, however, they can interfere with our experiences by falsely coloring them or distorting them through the lens of the expectation.

 

I don’t honestly know how much our lack of expectations for our ski vacation contributed to the quality of the trip, but I honestly think it made a difference.  Since we didn’t know what to expect, the trip did not need to live up to any expectations.  Since we couldn’t measure the vacation against any expectations, nothing fell short.  I think this played a hand in everything seeming “just right” that weekend.  While it might be ideal to be expectation-free, positive or negative, it’s pretty hard to set them aside.  Perhaps the way to go is to simply try to be aware of them.  While in a perfect world, we’d be aware of our expectations before we start an activity, many times we develop this awareness in hindsight.  That’s just fine.  We can always benefit from the reminder of the powerful effect our expectations have on the way we experience our lives.  Just like on our yoga mats, the more we practice noticing our expectations, the better we will become at recognizing them and (maybe) at setting them aside.

 

Namaste,

Amy

 

Augustine said his soul

was a house so cramped

God could barely squeeze in.

-- Denise Levertov

 

This opening verse of the poem “For the Asking” by Denise Levertov touches at the heart of why we practice yoga.  Our lives are incredibly full.  Busy-ness is the accepted way of existence these days.  We push ourselves to function, to produce, to do all day long.  We live in a world where taking a break to rest is not only a luxury, but can be seen as a sign of weakness!  Over lunch last week (Yes!  I made the space last week for lunch with friends!), a friend, half-jokingly, speculated that sitting down to read for a few minutes in the afternoon has become like a “dirty little secret.”  If we ever do make the time in our days for a good book, it is unlikely we would mention it to others for fear of seeming lazy, or (worse?!) not busy enough and therefore somehow not important.

 

But this constant busy-ness can be stifling.  This busy-ness can be distracting.  If we’re not careful, our culture of busy-ness can sweep us up and carry us away from our priorities.  We can wake up one morning wondering what on earth we are doing!  If we’re not careful, one day we can realize that what we are doing simply does not mesh with what we really care about.  We feel cramped and squeezed into a life that does not fit.  In our busy-ness we have lost sight of what is important to us.  Then (and this is where things get scary) we wonder if we’re too busy to change.  We wonder if we’re too busy to even figure out what does really matter to us.  We wonder if we’ll ever find the space to escape from the draining busy-ness of our world.

 

This is where yoga comes in.  If we make space in our lives for yoga, yoga reciprocates with the gift of space.  Yoga gives us space in countless ways – some big, some small, all life-giving.  Most obviously, yoga provides the physical space of stretching which relieves compression in our spines and joints and releases tension and stress stored in our bodies.  Yoga teaches us to make space (the tiny space of a breath or two) before each of our actions and reactions.  This small space helps ensure that our actions are considered, conscious and loving.  Yoga also offers the space of time on our mat spent apart from the busy-ness of the world.  This space is the time, the place and the peace to be quiet, to turn within away from the noise and activity of life.  We return from this space reinvigorated, centered and calm.  We return from this space better prepared to navigate the ups and downs, the twists and turns of life from our own center.

 

Ultimately, yoga helps us find this center – the knowledge of our priorities, the reaffirmation of what we care about, the renewed understanding of who we are.  Yoga gives us the space and the skills to quiet our minds, to focus our energies, and to still our bodies so we gain a sense that we are much more than our individual selves.  Yoga gives us the space and the peace in which we begin to understand that we are important, valuable, special parts of a greater whole.  Within the space offered to us by yoga we can connect with our creative spirits and begin to see all that we have to give to enrich and change and improve our world.  Within the space offered by yoga we connect not only with our creative spirit, but with THE creative spirit – God.

 

The space yoga offers us is enormous.  The space yoga offers us is expansive.  The space yoga offers us is bright and light and clear.  The space yoga offers us is fabulously rich in potential – potential to change the way we’re experiencing our lives and to change the way we’re touching our world.

 

Make space in your lives for yoga – an hour a day or an hour a week.  Yoga will reciprocate with the gift of space in which we can stretch out and be true to ourselves within our crowded, hurried, busy lives.  Ahhhh.

 

Namaste,

Amy

 

Right before my wedding, my mom asked that I clean out all the stuff that had accumulated in my bedroom over the years.  These days I follow the rule that if I haven’t opened it or thought about it or used it in two years it goes into the discard pile without a second glance.  But cleaning out my bedroom in my parents’ house felt like excavating my childhood.  It seemed like everything I touched was attached to some old memory.  I was loath to dispose of anything without giving it a close look.  As I flipped through stacks of school papers from my desk drawer I came across a story I actually remembered writing.  I remembered it as a masterpiece and from the A+ at the top of it, my teacher agreed!  Despite the piles waiting to be addressed all around me, I decided this was clearly worth reading.  Let’s just say, my memory of the story had “grown-up” with me!  What I remembered as a work of art – richly detailed, finely structured and filled with a wealth of top-notch vocabulary words – was decidedly not.  This tangible evidence of how much I’d grown-up and of how much progress I had made as a writer in the intervening years really surprised me.  In my mind and heart I was the same girl who had penned that story, but years of education and (to quote my daughter’s teacher) simple “time on the planet” had changed me.

 

It’s not often that we get to see such clear signs of our own growth and development.  Day to day we do our work, we take our pleasure, we love our family.  In this way years pass.  Perhaps we’ve had such a long and comfortable career that it is nearly impossible to recall ever not knowing the ins and outs of the company and industry that we’ve studied and analyzed so closely.  Perhaps our children have been at the same school for so many years that we can’t imagine not being greeted by name by the office staff and teachers in the hall with whom we’ve developed relationships.  In the midst of living, it is easy for us to forget how far we’ve come.

 

The physical practice of yoga gives us a regular chance to see and feel progress.  Every once in a while, it can be rewarding to remember how we felt in certain postures during our first yoga class.  Perhaps you couldn’t touch your toes in a standing forward bend but can now place your palms on the floor.  Perhaps folding forward in the seated straddle was more of a slight lean than the full fold it is now.  Perhaps maintaining control of your breath through the Sun Salutations was a challenge, but now you practice conscious breathing throughout an entire class.  It feels good to realize how we’re growing, opening and changing as a result of our practice.  Not only can we see how far we’ve come, but our progress reminds us that we’re always changing and growing even though we feel like we’re just “doing our thing.”  This idea of further change and growth can fill us with excitement about where we’re going.  This idea of further change and growth can fill us with curiosity about what life will bring our way and what we will bring to life!

 

Recently I was asked to offer for a second time the eight week “Introduction to Yoga” series that was the beginning of my business, Yoga With Spirit, more than two years ago.  “No problem,” I thought, assuming it would be a simple matter of printing the old files and heading out to class.  Well, it’s not going to be that simple.  You see, it turns out that life and change have been at work on me again while I was busy just doing what I do.  The eight talks that, in my mind, were the immutable heart of the writing and teaching that I do every day, no longer sound like me.  My thinking and understanding of the spirituality of yoga have evolved greatly over the last two years without my being aware of it.  This glimpse of my own growth and development leaves me inspired and excited.  I feel inspired and excited as I rework the talks to reflect my more nuanced understanding of yoga that is the result of two additional years of practice, teaching and trying to live yoga off my mat.  I feel inspired and excited at the thought of meeting and working with new students.  And I feel inspired and excited to share my refined ideas with the students who have practiced with me since this adventure began.

 

Every once in a while look back to see how far you’ve come … on and off your mats.  When you do, let it inspire wonder and hope and excitement in you as you turn back to what is -- and what will be -- in your lives.

 

Namaste,

Amy

 

The word ‘yoga’ has become such a part of American culture that it’s easy to forget that it’s Sanskrit.  It means to yoke, to unify or to connect.  What are we connecting?  Well, there are many different answers to that question.  Individually, we are working on our yoga mats to connect our body, mind and spirit.  There is an even broader answer than that, however.   Our yoga practice awakens us to our connection with everyone and everything around us.  Through our practice, we gradually grow to recognize that we are all integral parts of the whole of creation.  When we start to grasp that we’re all parts of the same whole, we begin to get a sense of the infinite ways we touch each other through our thoughts, words and deeds.  This sense of interconnectedness infuses our lives with a great peace.  We feel a profound belonging to our world and to our community.  Often this deepened feeling of belonging leaves us wanting to “do something” – to somehow share our peace and contentment with others.  It turns out it’s not so hard to do this.  We can act on our desire to connect with others within our lives right now.  Connecting is natural and easy.  Touching others is as simple as a heart-felt kind word.

 

A few weeks ago, as I was walking to my car after a yoga class, a woman from class pulled up beside me with her window down.  I was parked pretty far away from the studio so she had to go out of her way to track me down.  She leaned out of her window to tell me that she enjoyed practicing across from me very much.  She said she left class feeling hopeful for what her practice could become one day.  Her kind words actually brought tears to my eyes.  While my post-yoga glow certainly had my emotions closer to the surface than they typically are, I don’t think that’s all that was going on.  I floated along on the good feelings her words gave me for the better part of the day -- which included a particularly long trip to the grocery store.  That alone illustrates the powerful effects her words had on me!

 

As nice as it was to have someone say something kind to me, I know first-hand that it’s not just the recipient of kind words who is powerfully touched.  It can be just as moving to be the one saying something nice.  I remember a meeting I had with my son’s teacher earlier this year.  As we were talking about the changes we are seeing in him, I thanked her for the way she has touched him and inspired him to stretch into his potential.  Again, there are ways to explain away the tears that came to my eyes as I expressed my gratitude -- as a parent I am always stunned at the surge of emotion I feel when I “catch” someone else loving and caring for one of my children – but that’s not all of it.  Speaking kind words from our hearts moves us just as speaking kind words from our hearts moves the person we’re speaking to.

 

Speaking is the primary way that we interact with one another.  In fact, we talk so much that it can be easy to forget the powerful effects our words can have.