Thursday, August 2, 2012

As the dust settles...

Maybe it's too late to comment on a timely event that is a week past; most blogs that I've seen on Wanderlust 2012 were hot off the (digital) press during or immediately after the last tent was folded, the last 'namaste' uttered. But I like to let things settle in, let the subtler aspects float to the surface. the Big, Obvious things have all been said: it's an awe-inspiring spectacle of yoga, music, neo-hippiedom, commercialism at it's best (and worst) -- all blended into one giant melange of chai-tainted yumminess. But wait, there's more...

This is my 3rd year (out of four Wanderlust events) I attended this world class event in one of the most pristine spots in the world, Squaw Valley California. Maybe I'm jaded; Squaw is nearly in my backyard, and just one of many insanely gorgeous destinations for skiing, rafting, hiking, biking, camping...and YOGA. No small irony that as the eternal Olympic flame burns at the foot of the valley, the XXX Olympics were initiated. It's kind of hard to be at Squaw and NOT be totally blown back by the sheer beauty of it in its own right; adding yoga and music to it is a proverbial wet dream for those of us who teach and practice in insulated (heated) rooms.

But this year was special, as I was invited to teach at the event. It goes without saying that I will be eternally grateful to those who chose to include me (as a local representative of the area) on a roster which included the likes of such well known and highly regarded teachers and scholars as Rod Stryker, Hareesh Wallace, MC Yogi, Jonny Kest, Shiva Rea, Seane Corn, Baron Baptiste, Les Levinthal, Sianna Sherman and Janet Stone, among others. In 'the real world' most of these names would invoke a raised eyebrow-- 'who the F is that?', but in our little insulated bubble of yogadom, these names are tauted as pillars of modern yoga. Suffice it to say that it was more than surreal, as I sat at the invite-only dinner sponsored by Lululemon (no free swag, dammit), chatting casually with Baron or Les. It's not a world where starstruck comments like 'I'm a big fan of your work' are appropriate. However, it is comforting to know that these demigods in the profession apparently eat the same as I do. And not out of ego or arrogance, it was really affirming to feel that I had somehow 'arrived' at the next tier, whatever that may be.

So, I guess that I'm commenting on the event from both points of view: as a lifelong student and practitioner, and as a teacher. Perhaps it is ungrateful to make even one negative comment on any of it, but what fun would that be? Certainly from start to finish, the event is a tightly organized, smoothly run operation, nearly seamless on the front end. The perfect blend of high end tent vendors, the all-vegetarian food vendors, the corporate sponsors offering free swag (gee, is that where my car payment dollars are going?) up the yin yang?, the altar-altered conference rooms and open-air tents -- all beautifully executed. The variety of teacher offerings is always challenging: 'do I take a hard vinyasa class with Schuyler Grant, or do I feel like a yoga nidra with Rod Stryker would be better?' Just having the luxury of choosing is a gift. Ten classes in 4 days seems gratuitous, but if you play it right, you'll end up with the perfect blend of hard work, laying back, partying at High Camp (!), dancing your a&s off to Ziggy, or meditating in the Gaiam Dome. I'm sure I'm not the only person attending who realized the not-so-small irony that this rather high end (and pricey) event is a luxury that 99% of the people in the world (and that includes all the Off the Mat and Into the World people) could never in a million years afford. Add to that the lodging, and the food. So again, I extend gratitude to those who made this possible for me (a poor yoga teacher).

My teaching experience was wonderful, playful, and memorable. Back at home, I teach in a heated room, so the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a sweet breeze under the mountain, were a breathtaking and refreshing change. We sung, sweated, laughed, fell down, and had reverence for where we were. I feel lucky to have taught the first day of the event (a slower day, as most people were still arriving and unpacking), then having the pleasure of attending for the next 3 days. I was humbled by the honor of being a presenter at this event; after all, yoga teachers are as ubiquitous as Starbuck's stores on every block; to stand out in any way is a challenge, and I think I rose to the occasion.

Then as a student, I was totally humbled in most instances, by being in the presence of such great minds and hearts. There really aren't enough adjectives for the likes of modern-day scholar and teacher Rod Stryker, or the inspired sequencing of east coast Kula Yoga teacher Schuyler Grant, who was accompanied by the magical DJ Drez, a constant presence on the yoga-circuit, with his moody chill DJ mixes. On the other end, I was rather disappointed in the one or two 'rockstar' classes I attended; they felt contrived and under inspired. Who knows, if I had to teach to that many people at that many events,  would my words seem somewhat empty after awhile? It's so hard to maintain the intimacy of a smaller class setting, in those ginormous tents. It's not for me to judge, but I do find it interesting that those who are (likely) the highest paid in the industry are not necessarily the 'best' (ok, not an objective word) in the biz, teaching-wise.

From a purely social point of view, Wanderlust allowed most of us who attended, to reconnect with other friends and colleagues from all over the country, collect some fresh fodder to take back home to our students. It is a cross between Disneyland for Yogis, and Yoga summer camp. And I wouldn't change a thing. For all its gratuitous commercialism, Wanderlust is a wonderful testimonial to how popular yoga has become (and a multi-billion dollar industry) in our culture. Who knows, maybe I'll be in the Big Tent next year!!

Monday, February 6, 2012

Igniting the flame


So much has been happening lately; I cannot figure out if 'more' is happening, 'better' things are happening, or if I'm just paying attention in a different way. It seems like there is a little tiny flame, an inner fire, that has taken hold. I was imagining the other day that it is kind of like those 'eternal flames' that are lit at JFK or MLK memorials; it's not a big brazen open fire, it's a tiny flame, constant and true. 

The 'source' of this prana, energy, chi, fire? Who can really answer that Big Question. But it's there. Even if you roll your eyes when this sort of idea gets brought up in a yoga class ('can't we just do the poses please?'), it's undeniable that we run energy -- at all times, in fact. Sometimes more than others, and sometimes not the best or brightest (we all have 'bad hair days', no?). In the Niyamas (one of the 8 limbs of Patanjali's Sutras), 'tapas' or heat, are discussed at length, though in more of a burning off to cleanse kind of way. Flame as a purifier, so to speak.  

But in the context that I'm speaking of, it seems to be more of a hum, a buzz, something undefinable in a way. Kind of like the sound of cicadas in the summer; it's always there in the background. How do we access this energy, igniting that inner desire to keep propelling us forward, while staying present? Especially on those days when it just doesn't feel like you have much to give, or don't feel particularly inspired OR inspiring. What then? 

I have a long and enduring relationship with my yoga, both as a teacher and a student. It's changed as the years go by: injuries, babies, healing, relationships...it's all part of the context from which I teach, and live. But this flame goes beyond the mat; practicing this yoga and these ideals we speak to, naturally informs our lives OFF the mat, and so this is what I have been observing in myself. The ways I interact with random people at a store, or how I phrase a question in a kinder way, or allowing someone else to be heard without an automatic response waiting. Paying closer attention. There are so many things that just whiz by us each day, and it would be hard to take in each and every second with grace and perfection. But just striving to do better, and listen more, and have a more open heart and mind; this is practice. 

How can I access this energy?
A lot of things are trial and error, in this quest for higher awareness. For example, sitting in deep meditation is challenging for me; as well as painful, as I have low back issues. But the intention behind meditation is to quiet the mind, and awaken the higher self, soothing the constant chatter that narrates our inner landscape. So for me, aside from my yoga practice, I have taken up drumming. It provides me with a release, a kind of 'putting the mind on hold', and drops me down into a meditative state, where I'm totally in the moment. No lists, no obligations, no work, kids, commitments. It forces me to be present in a way that most things don't. Is this meditation? For me, yes. And it came to me quite by accident. Be open to new ways to access this mindfulness, this inner flame.

Find things that feed your soul.
I have noticed that a lot of people in our society are constantly on the run: doing doing doing. There is rarely space in the day to sit quietly, or breathe, or practice asana. I myself am busy much of the day, and have to consciously set the intention to stop, or pause, and just be still. There is a difference between just staying busy because of obligations or distractions, rather than choosing the things you fill your days with, and if those things are nurturing your soul. Maybe your thing is gardening, or cooking, or taking long drives to nowhere in particular. For me, it's picking up the drum and intentionally making the time for something that really sustains me, not just fills up time. Noone can tell you what that 'thing' is. If it's your mat, then get to it no matter when, where or how. 

Keeping the flame alive.
I'm still working on that one. There are days for most of us that just aren't great, for whatever reason. Then others that seem to just flow from one thing to another, with ease and synchronicity. I suppose the key then is to have this flame, this inner light -- with you at all times, to carry you through even the most challenging days. Having some tools in your arsenal is helpful; knowing how to breathe, ground and having faith that all is as it should be, regardless of your efforts or control.

Stay open.
The thing that has jumped out the most to me lately is that a lot of things seem to be rather arbitrary or random; I don't know if this is true or not. But what I do sense is that if I stay open to new opportunities, experiences and people, better things seem to happen, in a more aligned kind of way. If your intention is to become a leader in your area of expertise, but you never leave your house, then the odds of that happening are diminished. Getting a bit uncomfortable is ok sometimes, taking chances (within reason) and seeing what happens, generally is a good way to open up to new possibilities. What if you never knew you had a special talent for weaving, and then a friend took you to a class and you found out it was exactly what you wanted to be doing in your spare time? Or yoga? Or cake decorating? If you don't know what your 'bliss' is (as Joseph Campbell used to call it), that's ok too. It's taken most of my adult life to arrive at teaching, giving, doing and creating a life that brings me joy. The point is, keep going.

In the end everyone has to find their own way along the Path. My way is like noone else's; neither is yours. The affirmations I receive from my work and the world around me tell me that I am on the right path, headed towards a better way of doing, feeling, expressing and creating. This inner flame is there, even on my worst days. I have to hold true to that.


Sunday, January 22, 2012

Fear and Abundance

Ah, the holidays are in the rear-view. It's been awhile since my last post; lots of time to simmer and shine, lots of tears, exuberance, teaching, breakthroughs, run-ins. I always say that my mat -- our mats -- are the laboratory, the surfboard, the life raft, the magic carpet, from which we have the opportunities to work through all the things that get thrown at us -- good, challenging, ugly, spirited. It's the same in real life i suppose. The difference i think is that the mat, and the safety of that environment, gives us the freedom to fall apart, get confused, lost, and then found again -- rather like Hansel and Gretel with the crumbs along the path, finding our way back to home base.  Or maybe Humpty Dumpty. But enough of obvious fairy tale metaphors.

It would be disingenuous of me, as both a practitioner and teacher, to sit on a pedestal and proclaim capital T truth, as though I still don't occasionally fall to my knees in tears, praying for clarity and insight, kindness and release -- loving compassion even in the face of really hard choices and challenges. I do not believe that as yogis, it is our job to hold ourselves above our students, proclaiming Truth, Love, Wisdom and Beauty, without having also dredged up the darker aspects of ourselves, and come out on the other side; we are works in progress.

I try to latch onto universal themes in my work -- speaking to the broader ideas that bind us together in the human experience. In showing up with this willingness to be vulnerable and offer up whatever small insight I may have, I gain SO much from my students, who share their experiences and breakthroughs with me in turn. A true teacher is a  student -- tasmai shri.

The thing is, 'fear' is still something many of us seem to contend with (or at least I do), in one form or another. Fear of: failing, succeeding, falling, work, love, loss, pain, hardship...we work so hard on (and off) the mat to dispel these things, to hold them at bay. On the other hand, we often struggle with abundance, in a converse way: acceptance of what is, of the affirmations around us. I am continually amazed at small interactions that happen daily in my life -- a conversation about a journey; a small gift of appreciation; a hug from someone who I may have helped; the way I feel when I close my eyes and drum.  All reassurance that my own 'what if's' are being answered. Sometimes grace is obvious, sometimes it is subtler, like a song that makes me cry, or the way a room full of students just breathes all at once, in release. Being moved by nuance.

In buddhism, pain is part of living; suffering a choice. so the goal then, is not to hold these things at bay after all, but to live in and through them. How to accept and choose to NOT suffer as a consequence of some of these fears, is the million dollar question.

I ask myself if this is what or where I'm meant to be. Applying for that oh-so-elusive McJob last week is SO not where I WANT to be, but keeping food on the table is an important consideration for a single mom just trying to provide. So I try to create space around this idea of 'abundance', letting it come, but fear creeps in occasionally, in the form of 'how will I pay that traffic ticket?', or 'will I ever be able to afford that tiny fixer upper?', or even 'what's for dinner?'. Every time i show up to teach, i am reminded that THAT is where I'm meant to be, despite not living a rockstar's life or even the roadie-of-a-rockstar's life, or even the gardner-of-a-roadie-of-a-rockstar's life. You get the idea. Fluctuating between gratitude that at least I found this thing -- this purpose -- and worry that it's not going to sustain us.

So then the question becomes 'How long can I hold out?' In a world of  young(er) hipsters leaving for india, thailand, retreats, immersions and other things I cannot presently afford, when i'm merely trying to sustain myself, my kids, and this road I've chosen to tow. 'We are exactly where we are meant to be', frankly pisses me off at times. I thought I'd be more 'comfortable' by now, not in a complacent or entitled kind of way, but in a 'I've earned it' kind of way. And so I keep going, because that's all I know, and for the first time in my life, my work isn't 'work'; it's a gift. It gives to me, and I give to it. Owning my own studio? Teaching larger events? Gaining wider recognition? Sure, that would be great. But then I always come back to what it is that brought me here: my love of connecting with people where they are.

Last week one of my students, a wiser lady, said "Wendy, you are a great yoga teacher, sure -- but I think your true gift is more about letting people get comfortable with being themselves." That insight was so deep and resonant for me, because I think she's right. I teach, I sing, I dance, I tell stories, I laugh, I cry, I'm a goofball....and that's yoga to me. Allowing others to simply come into the room and be whoever they need to be, is really what it all comes down to, for me.