Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Peace, love and the dark side

It's very risky, very Orwellian, to even write this post, I'll be honest. Truthspeak is a big thing, and it's assumed that we are not to dwell or even call out the darker aspects to this Thing we all love so much called yoga, or life. Heck I even got rejected from a certain yoga-themed blog for NOT being 'edgy' and cynical enough. It goes without saying that I am ridiculously in love with this art, this spiritual practice, this calling; I am filled with gratitude every time I step onto the mat to practice, or into the room to teach; it is a gift. I am never done learning or arriving. It is my life's work....but I'm only as 'good' as the last class I taught....?

As teachers, we are more or less avowed to 'live what we teach': to set the tone and example to our community of students by not only word, but thought and deed. I get it.  We are not meant to taint their own journey or experience on the mat, as we skillfully and tenderly guide them along the course of their own path. I get it. We are not supposed to be attached to outcome, or numbers or ego. I get it.

However, we are human. We make mistakes, our hearts get broken, there are darker days. To not acknowledge this is frankly, in my opinion, doing a disservice to this practice. Life and its aspects are made up of dark and light; you cannot have or hold one without giving respect to the other. I am not suggesting that we surrender to the darker aspects of ourselves, but that we at least own and honor them, for they serve our journey as much as all the groovy hand-holding, collective OHMing, and powerful synergy that can happen in class.

So what happens on a day when things suck? In a 'normal' job, you go to work, sit down at your desk, and work. Your 'energy' is utterly inconsequential to your output.  In this profession, you are more or less required to 'leave it at the door', and bring your A game, always. As it should be.  There is a rub here: we are also asked to bring our 'authentic' selves to the room, to always teach from the heart, to be REAL. Well, what if that day your heart is aching, you are having a tough time on other fronts, and that is what's REAL? Well, maybe you can see the conundrum there.

As well, this wonderful community that we are privileged to be a part of is also a business. We are not supposed to be concerned with numbers, or who's in the room, or any concerns regarding our personal self-interest. We Are A Family. There are moments when that seems ingenuous somehow, but then I suppose this is true for most of the working world. Unless you are a) independently wealthy and do not need to work, or b) live on a remote mountaintop in asceticism, it would appear that all professions have their woes, dramas, politics and such. What makes it a bit more difficult to assimilate in yoga, is the fact that all things must at least appear to be perfectly zen.

There really is no conclusion to this post, no 'aha' resolution. It is what it is. I guess I get weary at times of hearing 'everything happens for a reason', or 'the universe will provide'. Gee, maybe now that unnamed blog will think I'm 'edgy' enough?

Or not. It takes nothing away from what I still and always come back to with this yoga. It's got limitless value both personally and professionally for me. It brings me deep connection to self and others. It allows me to express myself in ways that most other jobs cannot. I am eternally grateful. I just think it's important to at least mention that, like all things, it has a very real backstory, which may have little or nothing to do with the INTENTION of the history and practice of yoga. But it does have something to do with the commercial, modernized, human aspects of those of us who carry the torch.

just saying.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Why we practice together...

Today, out of the blue, I got a voicemail from one of my oldest friends, who I haven't spoken to in a few months. As with most things, life becomes busy, we get set in 'our bubbles' of work, family, to-do's, yoga.  As I listened to his voicemail, the tears began to well up in my eyes, because as he was struggling to find the right words to leave on the message, he finally surrendered, and said merely, "I just miss you. I love you." And that was it. And that was more than plenty. His words filled me up and let me know that I am loved, regardless of where I am, what I'm doing, what I'm NOT doing. It was unconditional.

And this came to class with me tonite. As I prepared to teach, I reflected on how and why we come together to practice in community. Of course, our yoga is uniquely our own personal journey, and whether we practice alone at home, in our backyard, on a beach, in a gym, or in a sacred space with others, it is still and always OURS, the gift we give ourselves at the start or end of a workday, or day off. But on this day, I reflected on what it is that compels us back to the mat to practice with others.

The obvious thing is that it's a great place for us to connect with friends, or meet new people; it fills a social desire to share this thing we love with people we care about. (And it's better and more meaningful than being in a bar.) But more deeply, and the longer I practice and teach, I am struck by how very powerful and profound this idea of community is. I believe that we are here to make connections with others, share both spoken and unspoken thoughts, feelings and inspiration with our community, and subsequently, to the world we each inhabit. I guess you could call it 'paying it forward'. And when I say 'our community'-- that is an ever-shifting group of individuals who happen to show up on any given day, either by luck, fate, or accident. So it isn't always or necessarily about knowing these people, but more about showing up and being open, and trusting, that you are holding space for them, and they for you. It is being part of a tribe.

I am continuously amazed by the students I'm blessed to serve, and what they teach me about...ME, about life. It is completely a reciprocal relationship. Whether it's someone's first class ever, or someone I've known for years, it's all the same. We are all together, in that moment, on that particular journey, on that particular day. We are a family. And on the most primal level, we are just there, breathing together, the tendrils of our lives briefly intertwining with those who are in the room with us; together we create a tapestry of energy (prana), without having to DO, say or think about any of it. It just happens.

OK, that might sound cliche or corny. But it is based upon a deep appreciation for what this practice  of yoga has brought to me, both personally, professionally, and collectively. So I offer you this: take a moment, reflect on someone you hold dear to you, who's sustained you throughout many years on and off the mat, and reach out. Thank them, let them know how much they matter. Believe me, it is as big a gift to yourself as it is for them to receive.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Post-Wanderlust Postmortem

It's been almost two weeks since my return from the annual trip to yoga Mecca-- Wanderlust at Squaw Valley. It's stewed and simmered, and finally settled into another lovely melange of memory: music, yoga, friends, nature, food and inspiration. I have added to my 'bag of tricks', metaphorically speaking. I have blended one of the hottest post-WL playlists ever.  The clearly outstanding bits have taken hold-- pranayama with Rod Stryker; meditation and asana with John Friend and cohorts; poolside at High Camp; frenetic dancing at MC Yogi and Michael Franti. But what really sticks me with are conversations over the course of the weekend on all manner of topics, some yoga-related, some not; the subtler nuances of thoughtful discussions and lectures by renowned teachers in our field; the very essence of what this practice is really about: love, compassion and community. Did I buy the tee-shirt? You bet your ass I did.  Sue me, I'm a nostalgic American, after all.

What I really came home with however, was altogether unexpected, and not quite adequately expressed here. For all my years-- nearly 20-- of passionately pursuing this practice, I am completely humbled by how little I have scratched the surface of things. Sure, I can name most poses in sanskrit, have practiced and trained with some amazing teachers, perfected the Art of the Playlist-- but what I have now discovered is that this is truly a journey of self-discovery and process, not merely a commercial opportunity to self-promote on Facebook, or in a blog (!), or how well-geared up I am in certain brands of yoga apparel.

As well, I took note on several occasions during Wanderlust this year, at the demographic around me. Sure, there were tons of noodly hula-hooping, rock climbing, barbie-bending young yogis up there. But what I was really struck by was the overwhelming amount of 40ish to 50ish ladies, like myself, who are aging into a practice that is largely steered towards the urban youth hell-bent on becoming the 'next big rockstar'. 15 years ago I was one of them. Now a mother of 3, trying to support myself off this thing I hold in such high regard--yoga--I sometimes struggle with where I fit into this grand puzzle, long term. My particular voice, the fact that I still adore hot, sweaty, music-infused vinyasa has lately caused me to wonder what else is there for me that gives me the same exhilaration, inspiration and affirmation, THAT MAKES ME WANT TO DANCE. Regardless of age, injury and life experience (or maybe in spite of), I am still that rocker girl  at heart, who wants to bring it.

I have decided that just because one aspect of the practice-- namely, spicy hot vinyasa-- was my doorway into this magical mystical world, it need not be one-dimensional forevermore . At Squaw I was fascinated by an entire workshop on pranayama, and inspired by another, more restorative approach. The underlying implication that unless yoga is 'kicking ass' then it's not yoga, is increasingly conflicting to me. Listening to Christophers' Tompkins and Wallis fascinating talk on shiva, compassion, and visualization, I was completely transported into another realm of possibility regarding spirit, and what 'yoga' really engenders. It's so vast that it can't be named. And so I continue to walk the path, with eyes open wider, heart more full, and, as John Friend so beautifully put, 'practicing with the heart of a beginner'. Can't wait til next year to see what new layer gets peeled back.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

From here to there....

Ok, so after writing many ersatz blogs, articles, columns and editorial opinions over the years, I'm officially going to take on this blogthing as one more way to think 'out loud', dialogue, explore, postulate, and query upon this thing called Life, yoga, and all things in between. Hop on board the WendyWerks train, and let's see where this thing ends up. After all, it's all about the journey, not the destination, right?