Having been exploring a more spiritual path in life for a while, I would have imagined I’d be more of all the things I know to be good by now. I’d be more compassionate, more patient, more fill in the blank. Frankly, I still get frustrated. I still lose my patience at times. I react rather than respond. There are days when my girls are giving me a run for my money and I am at my wit’s end, and yes, I still check out or even worse I’ll act out. Compassion and patience come just as easily as they slip away. Every now and then, I feel like even with all this effort, I am still crazy in my old ways. I just see the craziness more clearly, which at times can drive one even more crazy. Thankfully, though, I’ve learned to laugh it off more often than not. I have learned to take things more lightly. Sure I might react. I might lose my patience, but if I can see it happening sooner rather than later, I still have the opportunity for change. So in the end, we can take the pressure off being better, and simply become better friends with who we are. The less we assault ourselves for all the things we are not, the less conflicted we will feel. The less conflicted we feel, the more space we have to just be. Be exactly as we are – be it good or be it bad. This, in a nutshell, is the real essence of compassionate living.
Keepin’ It Real with the Captain
I have been with my dear husband, Herb (also known as Captain), for almost twenty-one years now, married for fifteen. That’s a long time and add two kids to that mix and we are your average American family. I have found that the one thing that has kept our relationship real is the ability or at least the effort to continue to be vulnerable with each other. And frankly, who really wants to be vulnerable? Vulnerability often means feeling unsettled and susceptible, and putting ourselves out there despite the uneasiness. In the midst of routines and responsibilities, it’s often the last thing I want to think about or embrace. Over time, though, I’ve found that instead of masking vulnerability with walls or busy routines, the more I allow myself to move toward it and actually share it, the more I feel connected within and to the people in my life, especially my husband. Being vulnerable is being human. Being human is being everything within the spectrum of good and bad, strong and weak, insecure and confident. That’s where life is and that’s where the magic happens whether it takes us through heartache or joy. Part of the journey is in softening the fear to go there.
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Grasshoppasana
Yesterday I was playing around with a more difficult arm balance and though I am not a fan of posting asana pictures on Facebook too often, I did this time because it was a fun posture and took me time to figure out. What was funny was that within an hour of posting, I had more likes and comments than I had probably received in a long time on any given post. ;) I get it, asana is fun, it’s the more tangible aspect of yoga. It allows us to explore and to be curious and playful. It allows us to work with what we can see and feel. It is the starting point of yoga, and it is exactly where I started, intrigued by the physical practice. And I continue to enjoy the physical side of yoga.
But once the asana has served the purpose of healing and strengthening the body and allowing it to become more resilient, they become place holders for practicing more subtle things like patience and compassion, unconditionally if possible. So when I show up feeling weak or inflexible, I practice being patient and compassionate in that place. When I show up strong and on top of things, I try not to let my ego get the best of me and push me to my edge or push me to post pictures on Facebook. Yes, I failed miserably at this one yesterday. 
I try to face my fears and my insecurities with curiosity. I try to embrace my strengths with humility. And the key word here is practice. It is a practice which is hard, but with effort and discipline and even many failures along the way, we learn who we are in the most intimate of moments. Through the guise of asana, we learn important life lessons. We receive wisdom in spite of getting the posture or not. Its not the asana that is the teacher. It is the way we respond to asana that teaches us so much about how it is we respond to life.
Picture of the aforementioned posture
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New Vinyasa Classes at Castle Hill
I am excited and happy to pick up two classes for my wonderful friend and teacher, Matt Borer, at Castle Hill beginning May 15th.
As Matt prepares to take on day-time Daddy responsibilities while Hannah goes back to work, I will take his morning vinyasa classes for the rest of this schedule, Tuesday & Thursday mornings 9:30-10:30 am. I look forward to leading a fun & fluid vinyasa class. Hope to see you there!
Seemingly Quiet
Sunday morning and the girls were at my Mom’s place. It was uncommonly quiet in the house, and equally serene and subdued outside.
I enjoyed a warm cup of tea and brought my mat out to the deck. The scenery was lush and the air, warm and still to the touch.
I came to my mat to meditate. I closed my eyes and began to follow my breath. Very quickly, I noticed the sweet sounds of the birds. Different bird calls responding to one another. It was quite beautiful and I was amazed by the amount and variation of birds in my vicinity. I wondered if that was always the case, and I was just too preoccupied to notice. After several minutes with my eyes closed, I began to sense direction and movement. I was aware of whether the birds were to my right or left, front or back. Whether they were moving away or toward me. The sounds became dynamic and energetic. I was so mesmerized with the birds, that it took a while to begin to notice the distant sounds of cars on highway 71. I could sense the cars moving closer as the sounds grew louder and then further as they became faint to the ear. In time, I connected more deeply to my own breath. A softness ensued in my body and skin. I felt as if I was a more cohesive part of my environment. I felt receptive, rather than scattered. I felt connected, rather than separate.
To my surprise, the seemingly quiet, serene morning transformed into a vibrant symphony of sound, movement and sensation. It was only when I sat with a sense of inner stillness that I awakened to the energetic and dynamic nature of my surroundings. It allowed me to notice what often goes unnoticed. It allowed me to connect to what often seems so separate. I wonder how often I connect to my experience and to the people around me with that level of awareness. I imagine not as often as I would like.
This, I believe, is so much of what my yoga practice is about. To find stillness within so that I can mindfully awaken to the pulsation of life. And from a place of stillness, to find a deeper sense of harmony in what often seems anything but harmonious.
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Humbled
Motherhood humbles me and not for the reasons most may think. Not for the unconditional love I have felt for my sweet little girls, but rather for the unconditional love they have given me. It is perhaps the most beautiful love I have experienced yet. At the end of the day, whether I have been the mom who showed up harshly or the one who remained patient, my girls still turn toward me with affection and warmth. It amazes me every time. It melts my heart.
Sure my girls are five and six and our relationship is bound to evolve with time, but their ability to be in the moment and to live from their hearts is a constant source of wisdom for me. They are perhaps my greatest teachers. They challenge me to be patient when impulses are strong, to be soft when I want to be harsh, to be firm when I feel weak, to be present when my mind wanders, and to remember to love when it eludes me the most. I am deeply in love and forever grateful to have experienced it.
Sophia & Sonia
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Simple Inspirations
I was busily working most of the day. Finally toward the early evening I stepped outside for a little reprieve. Though the idea of jogging and getting some physical fitness in was enticing, a walk was what I needed. I wanted to slow down enough to take notice of everything around me. It’s easy to use down time as an opportunity to just get more in. More exercise, more yoga, more of whatever else it is my mind and body seek. But today I resisted.
I went for a nice leisurely walk around my neighborhood. The sun was strong, bathing me in its warmth. Everything around me seemed lush and green from all the rain we have had. Nature was alive and vibrant. As I walked, it was nice to exchange the occasional kind smile with a neighbor. It was invigorating to smell the scent of freshly cut grass, to hear the sounds of the dogs barking as they sensed me approaching.
I made it back to my house and decided to sit on our deck which overlooks a green belt. I took a few deep breaths, opened my eyes and just watched.
The sun still beautiful and radiant. A few scatterings of blue bonnets adding sweet texture within the fields of green. The leaves upon the trees looked fresh and reborn. The wind gently caressing the trees. The roots remained strong and steady while the branches playfully danced within the current of the wind. Grounded, yet fluid. In so many ways, nature embodies wisdom. It is all around us. We just have to take the time to see it, to feel it, to hear it.
Sure I love my practice of yoga, pranayama and meditation. But every now and then, I hope to remember to simply go outside to draw back in.
“I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.” ~John Muir
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Happily Unsettled
There are a lot of changes and life transitions happening within my extended family. Change can often be overwhelming and unsettling to say the least. Change calls in the new and the unknown, as we let go of the old and the known. It pushes us to adapt when most of us are probably comfortable with the habits and routines we already have. And under these circumstances the mind often wants everything to be figured out, to have plans in place. Figured out so we feel less unsettled, planned so we can close the gap on what is unknown.
This is where my yoga helps. It gives me the wisdom to know its okay to feel unsettled. Feeling unsettled is not a sign of weakness, but rather a hallmark of being human. Change and transformation often come through a place of great unsettling. There is no way around it as much as we may try to avoid it. By giving these emotions space, I allow myself to focus on what is present. Rather than the mind spinning out of control trying to narrow the gap of discomfort, I can remember to draw back to center and take life one step at a time. It gives me the space to carry the uncertainty within the solidity of what is here in this moment. There is room enough for both.
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Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow
I have been in Houston helping my Mom pack up the house. Going through years of paperwork, boxes strewn about, the space is beginning to look sparse even as the memories remain. The house is a container for so many experiences, all the way back to when Herb & I got married in 1997, to giving birth to my first baby girl, to the days immediately after when my Dad was diagnosed with cancer, to 18 months later when he passed away at home. So many images, some vivid, some blurry, some sweet, some still raw. Even as old memories drift away even further, it’s grounding to know that new ones are still being created as Sonia and Sophia run around the house.
The girls and I spent a few minutes in the morning meditating overlooking the garden. The garden where my Dad spent a lot of his time. I believe it may have been his way of being connected to something beyond what the physical world could provide. He wasn’t religious, but the garden, I believe, was his spiritual abode.
I read through some of his old papers. Performance reviews at work, descriptions of him in his college year book. I came across his application for disability, when he knew he would no longer continue to work. One question read “Are you receiving or eligible to receive pension benefits”. My dad answered, “In future, upon death”. I can’t imagine how it felt to go through those eighteen months knowing afterlife was coming. Seeing your kids, your spouse, your friends, your first grandchild, while knowing the second was on the way. All I know is that even thinking about it makes my throat feel tight, my forehead heavy, my heart as if it could come apart. We all know death is in our future, but what if we knew it was in our near future, just months away. What would have mattered? What might have been done differently?
It’s funny how we so easily cling to life, when life can so easily slip out of our hands. Everything can change in just moments. Life can come, life can go, as it should. The memories and the history make us who we are today. But what we choose today will cultivate our tomorrow.
I am glad to have had some time and space to reminisce about the past. But I hope to remain present to today more than anything. I hope to take it in for all that is good, all that is bad, and really the full spectrum in between.
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Nature’s Wisdom
I was on the green belt today hiking alongside a creek brimming with water. It was such a pleasant contrast to the drought we have had. I walked slowly taking time to stop and observe nature in all of its splendor and wisdom. I could hear the rush of the water moving past rock formation while my eyes caught a spectacular display of light, as it reflected in a multitude of directions off the water. I could feel the energy and the power of the creek and it’s movement. It was nature’s own display of prana. As I continued to walk, the rush of the water became quiet and still. The previous display of energy and force was held within a greater pool of steadiness. And it was now that the water’s reflection of its surroundings became clear and more authentic.
Much like the water, I find that it is when we allow ourselves to abide in the more quiet places within, that we can see ourselves and our experiences with greater clarity. In essence, the reflections of our own experiences become more clear. Clear, perhaps, in their discomfort, clear in their ease. Wherever we are in the spectrum of our experiences, we can reside with acceptance and truth, rather than struggle or illusion. And ultimately, we can find space to go within to find what we often seek outside of ourselves.
