And here we are again, another trip around the sun. I've been fairly silent as of late, turning inside, doing the work. In my work training people, I get to see the progression of their growth; from a lack of centeredness, control and strength-- to a more focused, centered confidence and power, both physically and mentally. It reminds me of how we put pencil markings on the doorway as our children grow. It is so incremental, and barely noticeable day by day. But when you step back over a month or a year and beyond-- how did that happen? Progression. Slow and steady, consistency, direction.

It is so with us as well, our growth. Mental, physical, spiritual, emotional; it is nearly impossible to measure these things moment by moment, or day by day. But when you look back on an expanse of time-- like a month, or a year-- you can see where the road twisted and turned, the choices you made or ignored. Sometimes it's these deviations from the road that are where we are truly formed and forged. In fact, I'm learning that that it's almost always the deviations that have helped me in some backhanded way-- in ways that hurt (and still do, in many ways) me, cut me to the quick. And yet without these things,  I would not be who and where I now am.

I have taken God to task for a lot of these things; I tend to take these bruises, dents and trials very personally. The 'why' question looms, and I have to quell the urge to simply quit on Him. Yelling, crying out-- sometimes raging at Him about the injustice of some of these things. In the end, I've had to surrender by default, in stages of grief or sadness. Is surrender the same thing as giving up on a thing or a person? Or is it simply handing it over to forces greater than myself and my exertions at trying to rectify wrongs done to me or those I love. Or maybe it's just stepping out of the way; out of my own way, and letting things just be.

I have never liked the idea of 'New Year's Resolutions'. It's a trap. I do however, think it's good to take stock every year-- whether it be a birthday, a change of season, job, or relationship-- to check in and see what's up, what's working, what's not. To be honest, 2016 was not a banner year for me (or many of us)-- personally and professionally, emotionally and on other deeper, more reflective levels. And yet, I feel like I did some of my deepest work on self, on surrender, humility and true seeking. The measurement or clarity around growth generally comes in hindsight, reflectively. So as this bumpy year grinds to a halt, I am grateful for many things, despite the things that are still unresolved. 

Even learning to be more grateful is a lesson that sadly, is often not learned until things we love or hold dear (or think we do) are taken away from us. It's kind of like 'backing into' gratitude. Humans are slow learners sometimes-- often in fact-- and we sometimes see only what is lacking, not what is of grace or simplicity. For me, the last year or two have been about slowly having things stripped away from me (kicking and screaming in some cases), only to come to a clearer understanding of what is real, what is true, and finally-- what really matters and is of value. Friends-- who are, and who are not, is one true lesson I've had. 

There is no 'prince' on a white horse, at least not in that idyllic way. I do believe that we are put here to be in relationship, in community, to lift up others and be loved as well. How this looks and feels is a mystery to me at this point in my life. I look around and see it happening for others; I ask God what His plan is for me in this regard. Despite all I've been through, I still believe in love, not perfection. So if he's not a prince, maybe he's a really cool frog, who gets me and me him. Or maybe not this time around, who knows. But I seem to have arrived at some kind of peace around the not knowing (not the 'not caring'), and carrying on for the right reasons. 

I hear this at church often, from people I respect. That we are not called to 'happiness' in terms of perfection and a life without pain, challenge, or hard work. We are called here to use our particular gifts, and to use our life's experiences for good. And to that end I remain committed. These things that I've weathered, that I've struggled to forgive-- these are actually the things that make me a better friend, human, woman, and daughter. I am grateful for my little home, and the peace that I am able to create here, on my own. My music, my friends, my work, my kitty. I am grateful that I have enough health to be able to paddle board, or practice yoga, the things that feed my soul. Music. God. 

In the end, that is all any of us can really do. There is no avoiding the pitfalls, the heartaches, the betrayals; there is only rising above these things, walking through them, and arriving at some other place than where we began. So I pray and hope for a better year, that the pieces I have worked on continue to come together. 

We have to fall apart, in order to fall back together. At least I have the self-awareness to be self-aware (infinite loop).

What do I want to be when I grow up?

It's been awhile. There is always so much to say, but waiting for the writing muse to strike takes patience. Letting things percolate or simmer has merit. Lately I've been mediating on 'what I want to be when I grow up'. This sounds absurd I suppose, for a middle aged woman to say. But it's truth.

I have always wanted to be 'free', I suppose. When I say that, I really mean that I have always wanted to do work that isn't proscribed in a box (e.g. crunching numbers in a cubicle), but rather, do work that serves others, that has intrinsic meaning and value, that serves a greater purpose than just my own ends.

I've always focused on mind/body work. But as I've gotten older, it becomes clearer that yoga and pilates aren't the only way that I may use my gifts to help others. Leveraging 20 years of life skills, people skills, education, sales, wellness and support-- all of these things have melded into something that is dynamic, creative, and open to new frontiers.

I will always want to teach and serve others. It feeds my soul and spirit, to give back in that way. I seem to have a heart for the things that I have lived through or been touched by; maybe that's true for most of us. We can speak to the things that we've lived through, both good and bad, and then try to make a difference.

It seems so late to begin again. I think that many of us struggle with that idea-- that we must reinvent ourselves at various seasons or points in our lives. As we grow, so too do our needs in our work lives and relationships. It is not an easy thing, to feel as though I am stepping off of a cliff, but then again-- I've done it many times before. These are the things that grow us, the adversities, the 'not knowing', the 'what's next?'.

I can see it, where I want to go next. I have not had this feeling since I began in wellness 20 years ago; how I get there remains to be seen.

'Life is chaos; be kind.'-- Patton Oswalt via Michelle McNamara

When Old School Meets New School

I've been practicing yoga on and off since 1986. I can't  believe it's been that long. I recently wondered when my first yoga class was; many people seem to remember when theirs was, a kind of rite of passage. So I looked back at my college transcripts and found that my first 'hatha yoga' class was at San Francisco State, as a PE requirement. I don't remember very much about it, or the impression it made upon me. It was years until I took up the practice again. 

Fast forward to 15 or so years ago, when I was working in the gym world. I somehow stumbled upon the 'mind/body' aspect to wellness, and that was it for me. So many years, classes, studios. Many stories, ups and downs. Disillusionment, as well as glorious heart opening experiences, both on and off the mat; friendships made and lost. I always say the mat is like a microcosm of life-- tears, joy, pain, goofiness, loss, self-discovery, surrender, and release. It's taught me more-- as a teacher, a student, and a human-- than any other thing in my life, other than being a parent. 

I have been on a self-imposed hiatus from teaching/training since last November. I was teaching up to 20 classes a week, which is altogether too much, in terms of quality, balance, and passion. Somewhere along the line, my own practice went away completely; that is where the wheels fell off for me creatively. 

Since January, I have been practicing again, almost everyday, sometimes days off, sometimes twice a day. I've met some young, inspiring teachers. I am reminded of what my passion for this art felt like when I began my own journey down this road. It's rather like taking your own small children to Disneyland, and seeing it again for the first time, through their eyes. I can see what this practice means to these newer teachers. Their curiosity, their enthusiasm, their passion for learning and sharing this gift. I remember that feeling, as jaded and 'old' as I am, in this profession. 

In the wellness industry, youth is everything. Older instructors and trainers are largely put out to pasture; they lose their relevance somehow, as age is not valued in our culture. And this is true in the yoga community as well, although I do think there is a place for teachers of my stature, age and experience. I may not be able to throw down to the degree physically that I did 10 or 15 years ago, but I bring something else to the table that newer teachers may not: wisdom, grace, and insight. I know my limitations, and this informs my teaching and my personal practice in a way that being young, aggressive and fearless never did. It's a depth that only comes with time and an understanding of nuance, of subtle body energy. 

What I'm realizing is that it's all important and relevant. In my attempt to stay humble in a world fraught with egos and rockstar mentalities, I want to remain in awe of this ancient art (as Americanized as it is, here), and be inspired by those younger than myself, while at the same time, valuing the history and legacy of yoga in its purest form-- observation, listening and feeling. I am inspired by, and learning from those less experienced than me; hopefully, I can bring some wisdom, respect and inspiration to those who are coming up behind me. In many vocations or art forms, the idea of the 'student/mentor/teacher' paradigm is a thing of intangible value. Books may be one way to pass along knowledge, but in yoga (or tattooing, for example), learning the trade from those older and more experienced than you, is still how things are transmitted. 

The market is saturated. Everyone wants a piece of the action, their 15 minutes of fame. The dark undercurrent of that is a reality. Where we each fall into the spectrum of talent or ability is nebulous at best. Teacher Training programs are churning out 'wannabe' teachers at an alarming rate; where do all these potential teachers end up? Teaching poses is one thing; talent is another thing altogether. The 'It' factor is as important and elusive in yoga as it is in theater or music, or any of the creative arts. 'Guiding' a class with skill, heart, and authenticity is not something that is easily learned.

My own teacher taught me this, and the idea is counter-intuitive. She said, 'We teach for ourselves, we practice for our students.' I had to wrestle with this concept initially. But she is right; if I am not practicing, I have nothing to offer my own students. And if I am not teaching, then the reciprocity of giving and receiving is absent; therein lies the delicate dance of both. I hope to be teaching again soon, in a more balanced way. I have gifts and I need to use them, in whatever capacity I may. And that includes being inspired by others, humbly and with an open heart, both on and off the mat. 

Shanti

How Do You Decide?

How do you make decisions? From the heart? Intuition? Head? Gut? Prayer? I've been kind of asking this question for awhile, and a lot more lately. If we are meant to pray for clarity, and there is SILENCE, then what? If the guidance we are hearing is OUR thoughts and desires, and not His, how do you discern? 

Big questions, huh? Add to this, the ongoing humanistic convo's with my 16 year old son about how WE are responsible for our choices and decisions (wait, isn't this supposed to be the other way around?), not God's. So. Silence; what do we do with that? Is it the proverbial 'wandering in the dessert for 40 years'? And we are to stay faithful to that, no matter what? 

But 40 years won't cut it. Choices that can impact me, my kids and our future need to be made. So for lack of clear direction, I suppose we keep moving forward, continually asking along the way, 'Is this where You want me headed?', and if there is NO answer, then do we wait for a door to close (rather than open), or do we just keep rolling along, praying for the best possible outcome for all?

I've been paddling around on this, talking, singing, crying, praying, yelling, LISTENING, all summer. Here's what I keep coming up with: I want to teach yoga and train clients; it's where my heart lives, serving others. I want to paddle and teach others to paddle, because of how much joy and peace it brings to my soul. I want to do these things not because I'm entitled to, or because it feeds my ego, but because I truly believe these are gifts that I was endowed with, to share. My gifts, aligned with my wants; what's so hard about that?

Big Kid Wendy says, 'Well, you can't do that, it doesn't pay the bills', while the spirit that is supposed to be living breathing and serving what I was Put Here To Do, says, 'why CAN'T you do that?' And therein lies the rub. As a long-time yoga teacher, my job is to tell, teach and show others that ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE...or is that only what sounds good on paper? If this is true, then why isn't that true for ME, as well as those I'm blessed to serve? 

Independent wealth notwithstanding, how is this dream doable for others and not for me? I tried to live that dream for over 10 years and it just didn't materialize. It's not a luxury I can afford, as a 'hobby' job while my husband 'works'. It's my passion and my skill; it's my voice and my heart. It's what I was put here to do. But 'if' I'm a teacher, then does it need to be limited to the studio? Aren't I a teacher regardless of where, or whom I'm teaching to?

So I applied for grad school this week. Nerves: is this what You want? Or are You leaving this big decision up to me alone? There's no spouse to consult or support me in this; no parents or siblings. I have consulted with friends both in and out of the Faith; prayed; weighed it out. We'll see where this road turns next. That's all I can do. I think I've done everything I'm supposed to be doing-- job hunting, teaching, raising kids, being a good friend and person, a godly woman. Isn't this enough? And the old fears, the 'what ifs' creep in.

So you see, I'm left here with as many questions as before I began this entry. It seems that some people are truly blessed with luck, more than others. Or do we create our luck? Or do we keep praying? And praying. And listening. But it has really challenged me, this praying, and silence, and waiting. 

Wendy on Lake Clem

Now what?

A Year in the Life

As seems to be customary with me, these entries are way too few and far between. It's like taking photos on vacation: if you are constantly BEHIND the camera capturing all of the amazing things in front of you, then you aren't really present INSIDE of the moments that make up the experience. And such is journaling or blogging for me. Time seems to speed up, then slow down ('A watched pot never boils', comes to mind). And so it goes.

The awe and excitement of a new car or a new THING wears after a time, to the mundane, the 'normal'; the 'new car smell' invariably disappears into the daily detritus of kids, sweat, orange peels, and life. So my blogs of the last year have been on that same 'night-before-Christmas' track, amped and almost surreal with the newness of this life in God that I now find myself living. 

And then 'BAM', floating back down to life, its routines and disappointments; its supreme God moments, and trivialities. It's all there, as it was before...Before. BC. 

What's different then? Another year, a new job working with special needs kids. More legal wrangling and (hopefully) outcomes for the positive. Humility, tears, worry, and successes-- it's all there, as before. Just different somehow.

They keep telling me (who is 'they'? pastors, peers, friends in Christ) that life will NOT be easier merely because of this wonderment of new found faith. Indeed, quite the opposite seems to be true. Challenges exist, life continues. What's changed seems to be the filter I'm putting it all through. Less reacting, more prayer. Less (although some) fear, more prayer. A (possibly naive?) faith that He will provide-- not just materially, but faithfully. He will guide me/us through these trials and seasons with a reassurance of His divine will. I know this could sound cheesy as all get out to my non-believer (I don't even like THAT word anymore, as it places a line of separation between myself and my brothers and sisters who simply believe other than I do, and I'm not willing to cast OUT others in order to glorify ME) friends. 

At the outset I will go as far as to apologize for any words or views that might sound polarizing. But IF we were meant to 'walk and live as He did', then I believe that my personal walk is being directed by His grace, EVEN when it means saying the hard things that some folks don't want to, or aren't ready to hear. If it's said from love and not anger, then it's all good. 

Even BC, Before Christ, I tended to have a polarizing effect on people in terms of stating my belief in equality-- in civil issues of course-- but even deeper, that we are ALL one under the heavens. Having a yoga room as a pulpit (not a self-righteous pedestal) has given me a voice over the years, to speak out for peace, freedom and equality; for LOVE, COMPASSION, AND TOLERANCE. And most people can agree with this in theory-- it sure sounds great on paper, doesn't it? But when the rubber hits the road, can you tell yourself that you stand and walk with this in your heart, and THEN actively use those qualities-- not because they altruistic-- but because it's what Jesus did in his life and ministry? If we are being really honest, are we not ALL sinners who fall short of grace on any given day? It behooves us to cast the first stone, doesn't it?

And now, after Christ, how has this message sunk in, and where does it put me on the spectrum of 'hard right' or 'lefty liberal' (more labels I reject)? I have witnessed and observed just enough to be a hazard to myself, perhaps. I pray on this daily: "Father God, please use me to reach out to the disenfranchised, the youth, the alternative living, the marginalized and judged. Are we ALL not children of God? Then why is this so hard to in fact exercise in our daily lives, with our interactions with friends, family and co-workers? 

I have posted several somewhat controversial things this year about issues that I perceive as UN-Christian like bigotry. Am I popularizing myself for it? NO. When Jesus himself hung out with the poor, sick, or sinners-- did it endear him to the Pharisees? We all know the answer to that question. So it seems self-evident that we would do well to follow His example. Again, easier said than done. But why is it so hard? Is it FEAR? Fear of what we don't understand, or agree with. I surely don't agree with what I perceive to be a farther right political bent at my church, but it doesn't make me stop going; i LOVE those people. We are all different-- thankfully-- so why do we keep creating MORE (not less) divide amongst ourselves? Life is hard enough, can we not support each other despite our differences?

Context: what is valid in terms of honoring the bible, living a 'God-honoring life', versus 'picking and choosing' things to serve my own beliefs? Or inserting our beliefs rather than His? We ALL do that, to a degree in some regard. The huge gap in the Christian community alone illustrates the disparity between ultra-conservative legalists, and say, the more progressive purists who believe that Jesus' ministry-- and in fact ALL faiths-- supports love, compassion and tolerance. I'm not here to convince anyone that they are 'wrong' and I'm 'right'; those kinds of debates are counterproductive and not serving the dialogue. I just got off the phone with a life-long friend, a very academic and devout man of the Jewish faith. The conversation was lively and open, not righteous and dogmatic. There is something interesting that I noticed: we were in agreement about many KEY points having to do with our mutual love for God. Yes, the differences are glaring and obvious. But in the end, we pretty much agreed that God is about LOVE. That seems pretty basic to me. Is it that hard to live out?

Nevertheless, I maintain that, and have had much re-affirmation on this point-- His ministry served ALL people who came to Him. And I believe He is using me as a bridge for understanding to BOTH sides of this debate. As Bob Goff so eloquently reminded us at the Thrive Conference this weekend, "Love on people, that is how to walk and live as He did". There is no condition on WHOM we are setting the example of this for; believer, non-believer, Jewish folks, Buddhists, atheists. If we are truly engaged in our communities and our faith, then we are asked to go out and BE the light, not just 'be the light on people we agree with politically or biblically, and rebuke the rest.'

I know that this position makes some uncomfortable; that's ok. So did He. This leadership conference reminded me that IF we want to effectively grow our churches (and faith), then we had better get on board with the message, IN THE CONTEXT of where we are living NOW. So for me, that means being teachable AND standing out on faith and having the hard conversations, the ones that dare to stand up and say that I have, for example gay friends who are Christian (or not) and where does that leave them? God loves them, he loves us ALL, and we are all sinners. Who am I, or you, to judge that? We do not have to agree or even condone a lifestyle choice, in order to simply love on that person. I am removed from making that judgment call. It is merely my job to stand for them, speak for them, love them, accept them. 

And if the church, I believe, is doing its job in attracting new believers, then it would do us ALL well, to open our minds and hearts to not merely 'tolerate' (that implies a kind of tolerating of bad behavior, as with an errant child), but 'acceptance'. Do I think that everyone will agree with this, particularly the more conservative factions in the church? Not particularly. But it still needs to be said, and perhaps there needs to be a ministry (as we do with ALL care ministries) that serves ALL who feel that they do not have a 'place to call home' in God's kingdom here on earth. 

So back to my 'Year in the Life'. No, it has not been easier with the Lord. My parents are still gone (as before), I have serious work challenges and need to resolve my career/educational path. I pray ceaselessly for clarity on this: what is HIS will for me, not mine? How do I discern between these two things? 

But in all this seeking, and sorting and sifting of 'what I believe', or how He wants my gifts best served, this other thing keeps rising to the top. Whether it's job-related or not, my ministry seems to be emerging, as a voice for change-- as Jim Daly said, 'tone' is a huge factor in how people see us, meet with us, and HEAR us. So regardless of our personal views, let this be about Him, and honoring what we promised to do when we took up our crosses: walk in the mud and muck; speak out for tolerance and love, then DO something about it. Get uncomfortable, don't just stay in your box of routine around your faith: bible study with your group, your Sunday service, your service work-- step OUT and practice what He preached. 

1 Cor. 13:13, 'And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.'

Go live  I double dog dare you. And i dare ME. Then step back and observe what happens. 

peace,

wendy

Thanksgiving Postmortem Leftovers

Ahhh, the day AFTER a holiday; always that letdown kind of feeling-- 'I ate too much', 'I spent too much', etc. I love the day after things; it's always a good time to reflect and renew; take stock and wipe the slate clean (and to stay in one's pajamas). With Thanksgiving, it's self-evident that we are meant to acknowledge the things we are grateful for, as we should. But there is that other piece, the piece that we don't really want to look too deeply at: what are the things we are NOT thankful for? We had the glorious feast, but what were the scraps that noone wanted?

This week as I was preparing to teach a Thanksgiving morning yoga class, I sat quietly and prayed on this. What are the things that have challenged me the most this year, the things that I thought were insurmountable? What were the circumstances that threw me sideways-- that still push on me-- and more importantly, how have I reacted to these things? In the past I might have reacted in pride, anger, frustration, depression, sadness. Don't get me wrong, I'm far from perfect, on my walk with The Lord. It's not a 'free pass' to walk with Him. Daily I am making mistakes and asking forgiveness, and starting over. There are still people working against me; the Enemy incognito. I guess the difference now is my awareness of these things, and learning to use the tools I now have to 'armor' up and fight for what is right IN THE RIGHT WAY. 

2Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,^a whenever you face trials of many kinds,3because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. (James 1:20)

So how do we find grace in the hardest circumstances? Pray, read, fellowship with others who we trust and love. Rather than being a victim to these things that happen, how do we put on a different filter and see difficulties as blessings? This is really one of the hardest things to do, in my opinion. Everyone I know has had challenges of some sort this year, and that is nothing new. There is a new underlying strength there for me, iron-clad foundation of stability that gives me some mooring as I navigate through some troubled waters. He has this, He has me covered. I am tethered to something, someone, who gives us these challenges in order to pull us CLOSER to him in faith, trust and love, rather than turning away in fear, sorrow and defeat.

Earlier in the week my son and I were talking about 'If there is an all-loving God, then how can He just allow evil things/people to exist (like the holocaust, mass murder of children etc)? While I don't have all the answers, I am trying to hold strong to faith, because even (or especially) without faith, questions like these still cannot be answered-- all that's left then is disillusionment, mistrust, fear, and a kind of meandering faithlessness that goes nowhere. I am becoming acutely aware that there is something so much bigger than me, than you, than all of us-- orchestrated by a god so big that we can only catch glimpses of how He is working in our lives. Yes, we have free will, but how can we possibly have an overview of ALL things, and live with that overwhelming knowledge every single day? It's simply too unfathomable. And so, in learning to trust, I have to hand it over to Him, and not try to use my limited logic and knowledge of 'why' things go wrong, or get taken away, or any other thing that APPEARS to be hopeless. Using my mind or logic isn't really the way to walk through these things; it's not enough. 

"Though the Lord gave you adversity for food and suffering for drink, he will still be with you to teach you. You will see your teacher with your own eyes." (Is. 30:20, NLT)

When I shift my filter from 'why me' to 'what can I learn from this?', it invariably draws me closer to Him, to things having a purpose, EVEN the seemingly impossible things. "But i don't WANT to learn from that, it's too hard, there is too much at stake", often runs through my mind in harder times. Learning to let go of what I want, and in MY time, is important. 

As I reflect on this year, it has truly been not only one of the most painful, but one of the most uplifting; how is this even possible? Loss, forgiveness, financial challenges, career change, self-examination, humility, friendship-- the myriad of all of it, laid out as a glorious tapestry of 'the good, the bad, and the ugly'. And looking back (hindsight is always 20/20, isn't it?), it all seems so clear to me from where I now sit: everything plays out as it is meant to. whether we accept it or fight it tooth and nail. Surrender to the process of loss and redemption isn't the same thing as 'giving up'; we sill have to get up every day and do the best we can. We have to be His hands and feet. 

So on this day AFTER a day of thanks, ask yourself, 'what am i NOT thankful for, and what is the lesson there, how can it refine and define me further? Where is God leading me, and what are my gifts and strengths?' It is trial by fire that truly brings us face to face with who we are, what we are made of, and where we belong. Try to find grace and thanks for the hard stuff this year; by contrast you can see ALL of it illuminated, not just the good stuff, as gifts. 

The Year that Changed Everything

It's still in the 70's and sunny outside, as we approach mid-November here. It shouldn't surprise me, yet it always does; the raging summer kind of butts up into fall, then suddenly it's cold and wintery. But this year in particular has flown by, for so many reasons, and I find myself looking Christmas in the face. Not ready for that. Or am I?

As i came onto Bayside's campus (standing at the crosses) last weekend to serve, I paused to see the Big Tent was up-- the enormous tent that stands in the ready for the holiday activities about to come. It's just a tent, so what? So what is that I came onto that campus nearly a year ago, seeking 'only to hear some good music' and what ensued was a radical, life transforming event that Changed Everything. 

Most of the people close to me have by now heard my testimony. Most have been following my journey as I've more or less used Facebook this last year as an ersatz open journal documenting all of it. But as I stood there looking at that tent, it hit me like a ton of bricks, where I've been this year, from the depths of a self-imposed h*ll, to stepping boldly into this new life with the Lord. That tent was a refuge in, literally and metaphorically, the midst of a storm. I came into Bayside that day last December, little to hang on to, or so it seemed at the time.

    Tyler De Young

I came, with two of my children, to hear Tyler, a friend and student, play. That was the pretext; music, my passion. He (God) found the crack in my well-constructed armor.  I stood there, in the third row, with his parents, and watched in awe as the worship team that I have grown to love, and heard him, WITNESSED him moving the Holy Spirit, right to me, through me. I felt it, like nothing I've ever felt, and the tears began to roll down my face. I tried to stop it but it was in vain; his mother reached out for my hand, and I was Home. 

And it all went from there, a blur. I've not missed one weekend since. I have a family now. People who walk with me daily, moment by moment at times. I am theirs and they are mine. And we are His. 

Ragtag Crew, my family

How did this happen? Many years of teaching, of practicing, of being 'spiritual, not religious', and here I stand, with a story to tell, and a past that no longer has to define me as a noose of mistakes and missteps around my neck. I am free; not perfect, but free. I have a foundation that wasn't there before, something I've always sought but never found. And just like that, I stand on solid firmament. All I had to do was Believe. In Him. And say so out loud to my family and friends, to God. 'You are mine and I am Yours'. 

            April 13, 2013

So what has changed, besides saying these things out loud? I am accountable now in a way that I have never been. I am humbled from things like pride and ego, and letting my work define my importance, of who I thought I was. I am more full now in a way that I never was, but always wanted to be. I filled myself and my life up with yoga (nothing inherently wrong with yoga); with self-glorification in the guise of serving others. I now serve no other. And in surrendering all of these things, I came to myself, to who I am and who I am becoming. I released people and ideas that do NOT serve me any longer; and in doing so found an entirely new family that loves me. Not for what I say or do, but for who I am, nothing more. 

And I am flawed, so flawed. And I've made mistakes, poor judgement calls that cost me big. All I can do now is try to rectify these things, for the greater good. Try to be the mother I want to be, the daughter I want to be, the woman I want to be.  That's all I can do, and forgiving myself. For I am given grace now, and room to be forgiven.

Ellie my angel, and me at Breakaway

So I stood there at those crosses where I was baptized last April, staring at that tent, and it all flashed before me, jolted me back to now. To where I now stand. And there are still some things up ahead on the horizon that I must contend with. But strangely, I'm ok, it's going to be ok. It's going to be exactly as it should be, and all the pain, all the mistakes, all the growth, the lessons I learn daily; it's all for good. "Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the Enemy's schemes." (Eph. 6) There will always be trials, we are human and there are struggles every single day. Keep those you love close to you, take nothing for granted. And draw near to Him, especially when things get hard. I have felt so alone in this world, without parents or family or roots under me. And all that's changed, in this year that Changed Everything. 

Peace.

God in a Box?

I'm never surprised, always humbled and amazed, at where Life's twists and turns take me, especially in regard to my spiritual pursuits. I was raised by a very spiritual woman who began her life as an orthodox Jew, found Christ in her 20's, then spent the rest of her life examining all manner of ideas and belief systems, from EST, TM, Buddhism, and finally ending her life back at the source of her Judaism. And I was raised in that pot of ever-seeking, always questioning, higher-thinking beliefs. On one hand that was a great legacy, to be so open and seeking in All Things of Spirit. On the other hand, it left me skeptical of 'organized religion' and the people who stand in judgement of others' whose beliefs are not the same as theirs; it left a void in me that was not consistent with faith in one God.

I still maintain a rather liberal view that all people of the world have the right to their own faith, wherever they are called, and in their own cultural context. I believe it is in our human DNA to always ask the question 'why' and 'where do we come from and where do we go?'. To seek a personal relationship with god, creator, etc.. We can put names on all these entities, but in the end it all comes back to Love and compassion, in my opinion.

As a yoga teacher, I am daily reminded of the gift that I am in service of providing to others on their paths, and nurturing their own questions and concerns about the inner spiritual life that yoga has to offer, if it is something they are interested in. More and more, I began to find that there were many of the Christian faith in my room, alongside those of other beliefs, or even non-believers or atheists. I am tolerant of all who come; it is THEIR journey, not mine, and I'm merely the vessel to hold space for them, and it is an honor. However, as my own personal journey began to shift towards Christ, I began to have people draw to me with questions about how these two ideas merge or conflict: yoga and christianity. I have reflected and prayed upon this.

And I have arrived at the conclusion that there is no conflict, at least not for me. I am trying to teach people how to love themselves, the world around them, their creator, family, friends, strangers. And that is true for me as well. It seems that there is no 'coincidence' that God has put me in the position of bridging this gap in a kind and gracious way, putting minds and hearts at ease about what yoga 'is' and what it 'is not' in terms of faith and god.

I have a friend who came to me recently, telling me about a woman who believes very strongly that yoga is 'devil worship'; this is not the first time I have heard this, and it saddens me greatly. In a purely pragmatic way, yoga is a system of poses meant to relieve stress, pain, injury, and give relief and pleasure in our busy lives. It seems that many people who consider themselves 'strongly of God' have somehow put themselves and their beliefs into a 'god box' ie a limited mindset where nothing but their own literal beliefs can exist, and everything outside of those beliefs is wrong, a sin, an abomination to God's word. I do not find anything in the bible which says 'yoga is a sin'. Worshipping false idols is stated, but I do not ask that of my students. If i chant, it's to help them breathe and come into the yoga space ready to practice. I do not pray to the hindu gods; however they are mentioned in pose names, and in chants. I see them as parables, cautionary tales or aspects of our own humanity.

When I picture Jesus in the here and now, I picture him not as someone has TOLD me to picture him, but as my own friend or father figure, interested in all things that speak to spiritual improvement, or being closer to Him, to our source. I actually (and lovingly) picture him in his board shorts doing yoga with us, as we laugh, sweat, sit in prayer/meditation, and rest and revive. Isn't that what God wants us to do?

And so I cannot tell this woman she is 'wrong'; I cannot force my own ideology down her throat just as she cannot mine. I can however continue to serve what I believe to be my gift in His name, and help people in need of a loving ear, a kind hug, or a good laugh. I can only bring about change by my example in word, thought and deed. Not by force or dogma.

Lokah samastah sukhino bhavantu: may all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may our thoughts, words and actions support this. How can that ever be against God? The definition of sin is 'separation from God'; yoga surely does not ask us to do that, in fact quite the opposite.

I was baptised on Sunday; it was one of the greatest days of my life. And what made it so completely amazing what that two of my students, and believers, were the ones who baptised me. That was a huge gift and a blessing, to feel that my yoga life somehow brought me to my own personal relationship with God.

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!!

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.

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.

practicing for others...

Today was an interesting and lovely day. It began early, in a park in Sacramento, with a couple of hundred yogis, and a handful of teachers, invoking the 108 sun salutations. We practiced for a good cause, for Yoga Aid and the Africa Yoga Project. For as much as we teachers and yogis talk about service, I think that this is easier said than done in many cases, as we all need to survive, make a viable living, and promote ourselves and our studios. In this case, so much effort and love was given away today, for a greater cause than any one of  the people involved could have imagined on their own. The notion of giving selflessly, without a tangible outcome (other than the dollars raised) was apparent. It is sometimes hard to appreciate the reality of what we do for others, because we are not generally connected to outcome, particularly when those benefiting from  our efforts are continents away. Yet we practiced, we enjoyed the day, we danced, breathed, and did all the usual things we do here from the comforts of our mats, so that others might even HAVE a mat, or a place to practice this yoga.

From there, I went to a staff meeting, where, not surprisingly, the very topic (is anything a 'coincidence' really?) of giving back to the community, and outreach in general, was one of the main topics. I myself have been the recipient of countless acts of seen and unseen generosity, and know that in these times, even here in the United States, there are those in our community at large who struggle, and need help. Maybe it's the coming of the holidays, when we tend to reflect upon such things more, but whatever the reason, I am grateful for today, for the opportunity to serve -- in deed, not just in theory; to practice in community, with friends and strangers, for it's own sake; to feel the essential reason AGAIN, that brought me to the mat -- and to the work I love.

Our relationship to this practice is ever-evolving, never static. It has its challenging days, and its glorious days. It bleeds me dry, and sustains me again and again. Mostly, it never ends, and gives me hope even in the darkest times. It is raw, honest, painful, lovely, revealing, nurturing -- it is life.

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.

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.

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.