I'm a teacher, not a caterer.

Sometimes I have so much to say or share that I end up not saying anything because I'm not sure where to start. So, here's what I'll offer today. It's about my teaching.

I don't cater to students, though I do always try to be in service to students.

When I look out at the classroom, I see the folks who have in some way connected to my classes, whether it's the storytelling, the alignment focus, the homey vibe, the other students in the community. I see the students who are specifically connected to what I have to offer.

I don't try to win over a potential student by changing my teaching to suit them or by adding things that feel inauthentic to me.  You want it hotter? I can point you in the direction of 30 classes at this exact same time that will give you that. Want me to spend less time on philosophy, meditation, and pranayama so you can do more "vinyasas?" I'm not your gal. Don't want to learn about alignment? Again, there are plenty of classes out there for you, but I will not let you hurt yourself on my watch.

One of the many problems of the yoga industry is that many people are confused and think that yoga teachers are in the "service industry" and that the customer is always right. We aren't and they aren't.  Creating the problem is that yoga instructors often feel they have to cater to students because we get paid by the student (in general), which means if I cater to you, you might like me, and come back and then I'll make enough money from you on that day to buy a kombucha and if I cater to enough people, I might even be able to pay my rent.  When teachers pander to students, the students then don't see yoga as an education process and the teacher as, well, a teacher.  So, they then expect to have their expectations of what they want in a class met by any class they attend. 

The way I see it, there are more than enough yoga classes in the world that will meet the wants and needs of those who want it hotter, faster, less spiritual, whatever. Way more of those than there is of me.  Those are the students who have a hard time finding what they want.  If people come to my class, it's because there's something in it they didn't find elsewhere. If I cater to potential students, I actually am disrespecting the students who are coming for what it is that I uniquely add to the mix.  We've created a community together over 13 years. I no longer am the sole magnet for my classes, my students magnetize the students.

So, if you stumble into my class, I am going to welcome you wholeheartedly. I am going to be excited that my community may have discovered a new friend. I'll introduce you to the folks on the mat near you. I am going to give my utmost and best to serve you, to teach you and to offer something that may be valuable not only on your mat, but in your life.  And also, if I'm not the right fit for you, ask me and I will tell you where and with who you might find the right fit...

but I will not cater to you.

Circular Living and How I Came to Follow the Wheel of the Year

Where we are in time and space: Today we’ve hit the mid-way point of September, a month that, to me, is all about settling back into the rhythm of our lives after the long-march of the summer scatter.  I’m starting to feel my feet more on the ground and my mind more focused than it’s been since Summer hit in earnest 3 months ago.  In the Northern Hemisphere, the balance of our year will tip towards darkness in just over a week, and yet we still have the amazing autumn months that seem to be everyone’s favorites no matter where you live.  There’s a pull inward, and yet there is still so much warmth and beautiful light, we stay out just a little longer, as if we are children who’ve already been called in for dinner once and can’t seem to stop while there is still even a hint of light.

About 10 years ago, an odd series of thoughts led me to a book that was all the rage when I was growing up, but I was too young then to read it or appreciate it.  The book (which over time became a series of books) was called Foxfire, and it was born of a quarterly magazine created by a group of high school students and their teacher in Georgia in 1966.  It was an exercise in gathering the oral history of their elders as old ways of life were quickly fading.  Foxfire celebrated the home life, seasonal living, and storytelling traditions of Appalachia.

My Mammaw and Papaw around 1970.

I grew up in a university city in the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains, near the Appalachian range, which runs from Newfoundland to Alabama, though we primarily think of their expression in Kentucky, Virginia, Tennessee, North Carolina, West Virginia,  and Georgia.  The mountains there are soft and rolling, and the seasons—at least during my upbringing, though I fear with human-induced climate change that has likely changed—were distinct and clear cut.

My great grandparents on my father’s side were mountain farmers who lived and farmed in the Cumberland Mountains in the southeastern section of the Appalachian chain.  I remember as a very young child driving what seemed an incredible distance every so often to visit their farm.  I remember they had an outhouse, which was thrilling to a pre-schooler.  My great grandfather wore “overhauls” and my great grandmother wore calico printed dresses with a full apron, work boots, and a bonnet on top.  It was like Little House on the Prairie!  Mammaw wore her long hair, which was gray with auburn streaks, braided and in a neat bun.  The farmed tobacco, grew their own food, and kept bees. I remember, in particular, how they spoke in what I later learned was old English.  Appalachia and the southern mountain ranges were really the last part of the country to have television in the household. They were cloistered and with no outer influence via network television, they spoke as their ancestors had.  They said “thee,” “thy,” thou,” “ye,” and “yon.”

When I discovered Foxfire, it was like discovering my great grandparents and their way of life—an incredible gift.  I learned about the tradition of planting by the moon, and, in fact, using the moon for all manner of things from planting above ground crops (waxing moon) to below ground crops (waning) to cutting your hair for more growth while the moon waxed and for less growth while it waned.  I was fascinated and started paying more attention to the cycles of the moon and the seasons than I had before.  Perhaps, because I had moved to Northern California, which natives will tell you has seasons, which of course is true, they are just  . . . subtle . . . I had a yearning for a seasonal rhythm that I had not even realized I was deeply connected to until I moved to the Golden State.  Paying attention felt right in my cells, and I knew that it was more than just me,  but all of us who must be yearning for something known that had been lost.

In 2008, during an October trip to New Mexico, I made a conscious decision to begin living my life more based on the earth wisdom and natural cycles that my ancestors (all of our ancestors!) had moved with.  Trust me, I’m not someone who is interested in turning back the clock to some silly idea that long-ago and far-away was better.  (We may be battling superbugs that have adapted to antibiotics, but, really, it’s just silly to think that we were better off without them, and if you aren’t sure about that, you wouldn’t have to go far back in your own family’s history to find the child that died from something ridiculous to us now.)  So, what is it to follow the Old Ways in 21^st century California?

When I say “the Old Ways,” I’m talking about realizing that our lives have rhythms and cycles.  They ebb and flow.  There are outward periods and inward periods.  There are times more conducive to growing and more conducive to releasing and everything in between.  Time is a circle, not a line.  Problem is, our modern life doesn’t acknowledge it whatsoever.  We can have daylight at any time of day, 72 degree heat in winter and 68 degree air conditioning in summer. We can eat tomatoes from California or Mexico all year round, and even my beloved autumn persimmons can be procured from the Southern Hemisphere in the spring if I so desire.

We’ve lost our connection to nature—our own nature and the nature around us.

The good news is: it’s actually a pretty easy fix—start paying attention.  Watch the moon. Feel the subtle shift of the season before it’s outwardly obvious because you are spending time outside every single day. Yes—eat local and in season, and if you live in Maine where local and in season looks different than in California, maybe consider learning to “put up” the bounty of the summer.  Use the dark half of the year to do projects that are more inward. Honestly, it’s not that hard. We are wired for this. We just forgot.

I had forgotten, and I’m still learning..  And, what I’m finding since embarking on this path 10 years ago casually, 6 years ago actively, and late this spring formally—it is such a rich way of engaging in the world. At first, to be honest, so much feels impossible, counter-intuitive, because at this point, we’ve grown up outside of this rhythm.  But, you see, your DNA is old and wise. It knows the Old Ways.  I’m not a farmer, nor much of a gardener, but I follow the cycles across the wheel of the year in the rhythms of my life and day.  Some projects are better suited to June than January.  And when nature speeds up or slows down, and I’m attuned to that, I actually live and work at optimal amounts of ease and effort. I more readily delight and adapt to change.

Following the cycles of nature and her seasons is something we should all be able to agree upon regardless of religion or political persuasion, and the fact that we can’t, is the very proof of how far off we’ve gotten.  We may have screwed a lot up. That’s a fact. But, I really do believe that a lot more than we realize could actually be solved by paying attention to our own nature and to nature itself, because they are one and the same. My by-the-moon planting great-grandparents were down-home, red-state, backwoods Christians.  Your Jewish grandparents were (and are) following the moon for Rosh Hashanna,  Sukkot, and Passover.  Stepping into this flow doesn’t need a label, though there are words people use to describe themselves or others who do it.  If you need a label for this, here’s a suggestion: call it being a Human Being.

            I’m a human who is finding her human-ness reflected in the seasons.

            I’m a woman finding her womanliness reflected in the moon.

Trust Me. I've Been There

Odds are that if you are reading this blog, you are doing one thing to nurture yourself--practicing yoga. It's probably how we know each other.  Take a moment to acknowledge and affirm yourself for that. Certainly, with a career, trying to make the house payment, people who depend on you (spouse, kids, parents, dogs, cats, students), getting to class a few times a week is an amazing accomplishment. Well done.

But, have you ever wanted to go to a weekend workshop, or even a retreat and had this sentence come across your mind:

 “I would so love to go to that. I really could use that time for myself. . .

“It’s just not the right time. Maybe next year.”

 

Trust me. I’ve been there.

It seems that for the better part of my 16 years practicing yoga, everyone was going on some sort of a yoga trip. Inwardly I whined and moaned that they were single or didn’t have kids or had more money than I did. I would sit around and think about all the yoga trips I would go on when it was the RIGHT time, which was never in the present moment or even that year. The right time always involved the children being somewhat older than they were at that moment and life being somewhat more easeful than it was in that moment. Somehow in the mystical and magical future, I would have loads of money and I would be so free of responsibility that no one would even notice I was gone (which sounds just horrible, doesn’t it?).

 I have a secret for you. It will never be the right time. It will never be a good time.

There will always be something or someone that is demanding your attention away from yourself.

 

One day, when my children were at truly one of the most busy stages of life-10 and 12 and each playing on a competitive club sports team-in passing, I said to my husband (who worked full-time in Silicon Valley an hour+ commute each way; was a full-time, first-year law student; as well as a baseball coach of a club team) “I wish I could go on this great yoga retreat in Costa Rica with two of my favorite teachers. Maybe I’ll work on making it happen in a few years.”

You know what came back? “You should go. There’s going to be a lot of logistics to deal with all we’ve got going on, but you should go.”

It wasn’t even an issue! Only I was making it an issue! And in that moment, I figured out that the right time or a better time really was an expert tactic in martyrdom and self-sabotage. In that moment, I finally MADE the time I needed to not only take care of myself, but to be taken care of (and to model to my children that I was WORTH taking are of)?

I called in a lot of favors. My husband graciously juggled and made it work taking on all my responsibilities on top of his own. The retreat was one of the most amazing weeks of my life, and when I returned to my family, I was a better me than the one who left. I was refreshed and had been able to do some deep transformative work that made me a better version of myself. I got to model for my children that we have to take care of ourselves, nurture and nourish ourselves so that we can make our best offering to those we love and serve. When I came home from more than a week in Costa Rica, they were alive, happy, and had enjoyed the time away from me as much as I enjoyed my time away.

So, I understand, because I’ve been there.

If you need to take the next step in nourishing yourself, I’m here to help you figure that out. It may start with an afternoon that you dedicate to a special yoga class followed by a massage and dinner with friends. Or it maybe it’s a one-day urban retreat or a close-by weekend retreat. Or, maybe, just maybe, like me, you realize that there is no better time, and take the plunge to go on a longer retreat, such as the retreats I’m offering in Costa Rica this April (event link below). 

Whether it’s a retreat with me, or something closer to home, I can point you in the right direction because I know so many amazing yoga teachers all over the country and world. There IS something for you. And, I promise you, there will not be a “right” time, which means now is the right time. Let me know what I can do to help you nourish yourself as part of our year of cultivating the Pilgrim Heart. 

Today is the new moon and the beginning of the Year of the Wooden Horse. It’s time to take the reins of our own nourishment in 2014!

Details for my upcoming Costa Rica Retreats can be found at:

https://www.facebook.com/events/137421449738144/

or feel free to email me at yogabohemian@gmail.com

 

The Waiting Game and Saying Yes to the Random

Here in Northern California, the rains of winter have subsided and the summer fog has not yet arrived.  All around, people are basking in the sun . . . something precious and often rare here.  Even as I write, I’m sitting at a favorite corner café where the sun kisses my shoulders and dapples its light through the new leaves.  We entered the New Moon in Aries a few days ago and are headed to the great Beltane Feast on May 1.  The floodgates of life, creativity and new beginnings have toppled and a surge of creativity is in the air.

The Oxbow, by Thomas Cole, 1836

For me, I feel that I’ve finally emerged from a year of intentional quiet and waiting.  After my yoga community was rocked to its foundation in the first half of 2012, I knew that I wanted and needed space and a lot of it in order to organically evolve my practices and my teaching.  I only made two decisive changes to my classes—I started chanting the long-lost second verse of the invocation I had been chanting for 15 years, and I uncompromisingly reserved the last 15 minutes of class for pranayama, meditation and savasana.  With those two things, after a year, I find that my personal practices and my teaching have indeed unfolded and evolved in ways that feel natural and authentic.   When I resigned from Anusara, I openly said that I would take the rest of the year to lie fallow.  It wasn’t that I was pining away for what had been and was gone. I was clear, but  I knew wholeheartedly that I didn’t want to rush into something false for me just for the sake of “moving on.” And so I waited. Or, more truthfully, I was waiting.

A few days ago, on the new moon in Aries in fact, I found myself antsy, restless,  and yearning  for something to happen.  I felt in danger of stagnating in this waiting period. I had grown increasingly impatient with the process of evolving, especially since I didn’t (and don’t) have any idea what exactly I’m evolving to.  After 15 years of knowing what was the next step of the process of progression (at least in my professional world), I sit with a big question mark on not only what I’m progressing to, but the necessity of constant forward motion, which can take me to a place of constant striving.  My ansty-ness had reached a crescendo.

And then, a random and funny thing happened. Standing in a parking lot waiting for someone (oh the irony!), a clear voice came into my head, “Stop waiting and get the dulcimer you’ve been wondering about for the past 3 years.”  Without question or thought, I pulled out my phone, did a little research on a good beginner instrument and purchased it. Within 20 minutes, I felt a tremendous excitement and the long year of waiting yielded to a new era to yearning to begin in earnest.  Sometimes, all it takes is saying “yes”  to one random thing that you had stalled on in order to get things moving.  By the next morning, ideas were flooding me and demanding my consideration. 

Today, I don’t feel antsy, but rather, excited at the question marks that still remain.  I have jumped off of the banks and feet first into a new river whose name and character I do not yet know.  It was right of me to stand on the banks for a while. It’s not as if nothing was happening.  A lot was happening at the subtle level, where I believe all things begin. But it is also right that I finally got on the rope swing and let go into the new flow.    Can’t wait to see where She takes me along this river of question marks.

 

Jai Ma! Jai Ma! Jai Ma!

Days of Awe and Wonder

It's December 1, and this crazy year 2012 enters its last month, I look back with a sometimes gaping jaw that my overarching theme of the year (set forth in late December 2011) has been The Wonder Year: Amazing, Astonishing, Awakening

 

It's been all that and more.

I had anticipated that there would be much cynicism and heated snark during the presidential election year and just wanted to try a different approach.  I also knew that there would be a degree of fear and unease riding the coat tails of the idea of a major shift in consciousness predicted by the Mayan Calendar (not the literal end of the world, but paradigm shifts).  Turning to the wheel of the Rasas (essence or flavor of experiences), I knew that the way out of the flavor of fear back towards joy was through WONDER (adbhuta).  Think of the experience of wonder as that of taking delight in the unknowable or the mysterious. Think of awe as the ability to step back and just say "Wow" when the unpredictable and unexpected shows up, no matter how it presents itself before you, and as we all know, that doesn't always take the form of a beautiful sunset.  It can also take the form of the dissolution of community, illness, or a monster storm.

A Holy Wow moment is when we choose wonder and awe over cynicism and snarkiness.  They are often followed by stunned silence or short bursts of expression

"Wow," "Whoa," "Unbelievable." 

To open yourself to wonder and awe is an empowered choice of spaciousness and curiousity towards that which is in the shadows and cloaked, just as you would watch the moonrise or a great work of art. Cultivating a sense of wonder opens the door towards the deeper explorations of who we are beyond the layers of the seen and known.

This month, I invite everyone to join me in a strong practice of allowing awe and wonder into our lives more fully.  These ideas move across cultures and religions. These ideas move beyond unchecked consumerism and can help us move our holiday traditions to a higher level of celebration. 

May we soften and enjoy the lights during the darkest nights.
May we turn our hearts towards gathering together in family and community.
May we give of ourselves fully and intentionally.
May we experience Joy, Peace, and Love in our lives and in our hearts.

It’s Time We had a Little Chat

 Yoga students of the world . . . thank you so much for your devotion to your practice and for showing up to class consistently and with receptive hearts.  The world is a better place because of it.  I know that it takes a lot to get to class. We are busy people--jobs, families, obligations--the fact that we make it to class at all shows effort and dedication.

And yet . . .
It’s time we had a little chat about getting to class on time. It’s gotten to be more than an annoyance. It’s a problem.  And since I don’t believe in locking the doors at class start time because you did make the effort (although it’s getting tempting!) Last week, in one of the classes I teach, there were 6 students present and ready to practice at the scheduled start time. The class ended up with 20 people in it.  There was a full 25 minute difference between the time the first student arrived and the last student arrived.  This is just not cool no matter what angle you look at it.

A class is a co-creation between teacher-student, as well as student-student within a boundary of time and space.  We work as an organism.  Yoga is an individual practice that happens in community, and so respect and etiquette come into play. Yoga isn’t a free for all, do-as-you-please recreational activity. Yoga is a practice, and practices have perimeters, which is also what gives them meaning.

Here’s a little refresher contemplation on Arriving On-Time for Class.

What does “on time” mean?
The scheduled class start time isn't a suggestion.
The class start time isn't the time you arrive at the registration desk.
The class start time isn't the time you cross the threshold to the studio and start putting your stuff away and getting your props.
The class start time isn't the moment you start to move.
"On time" for class means that you are on your mat and completely prepared to begin at the scheduled class start time if not at least 5 minutes before. Belongings stored, phones off, props gathered, sitting on your blanket, ready to start.

Why be on-time?
The hour or 90 minutes that you carved out is your sacred time. Arriving right at the bell or late usually means you arrive anxious and flustered which spills over into your entire practice and is disruptive to the sacred time that others have carved out for themselves.

If your teacher practices grounding, chanting, or contextually setting a theme for the class, you miss or disprupt these practices as they are in process.  If you come late specifically to miss these practices, perhaps you've chosen the wrong teacher.

Your body won't get the proper warm-up prior to more rigorous poses.

Being on time respects the yoga tradition, the other students, your teacher, and yourself.

What if  I did everything I could (really) to be on your mat and ready to practice at the start time, and I got  stuck in traffic, couldn’t find a parking place, etc?

This happens to everyone—teacher’s too.  But first, ask yourself the question? Does this happen to me regularly?  If so, it is more likely that you haven’t taken into account those probabilities and possibilities in your travel time.  Remember, you have to account not just for travel time, but check-in time, changing clothes, preparing your space, etc. You probably want to be at the registration desk no later than 15 minutes before class in order to accomplish that and be ready. Yes. Seriously, I said that.

If you do arrive late and the teacher and students are in grounding practices, sit down in the back of the room quietly and join in the practices. The teacher will help you find a space for your mat at the appropriate time.

If you arrive late and the practice has already begun, first, ask the teacher if it is ok to join. It is possible, if you have arrived too late, that it’s simply not in your best interest to jump right in.

What if I'm just late because I know my teacher always starts late? She doesn't mind?

Honestly, find a new teacher.  Teachers who start and end late perpetuate the problem of students arriving late and leaving early. They aren’t setting a clear and affirming boundary that your time matters.

The Process of Becoming Real

“What is REAL?" asked the Velveteen Rabbit one day... "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When [someone] loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

I'd like to share a personal story that, I feel, has much to offer to our current state of broken-ness as an Anusara community and that it is possible rebuild something that is real and lasting. Last year, my 41-year-old sister suffered seven life-threatening strokes and hovered between life and death in a coma for three weeks. During that, the most difficult period of my life, I had the great joy of realizing the efficacy of all that I had learned from Anusara yoga. Living in the unknown became second nature during those long weeks, and the hope that any spark of life would have given would have been celebrated. The first hope, was that she would live. That was soon followed by . . . what if she lives? Will anything ever be the same again? What of her will we get back? Will we get any of her? Will we, her family, be able to take care of her, or will she need professional caregiving for the rest of her life? Is there any possibility of a ful recovery? Or, harder-to imagine, a vital, healthy, vibrant life?

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

Despite all odds (75 percent of those who suffer her same type of stroke die within 30 days), she not only lived, she was, in fact, transformed into a vital and happy woman. Is her life the same? No. There is a "new normal," but she would be the first to tell anyone, that she is much happier. She is restructuring her life around what is life affirming and enhancing. She has had to look at old ways in a clear mirror and step up to make changes, and she continues to live every day with the limitations she is left with. She has come to love the story of the Ganapati in which he takes the broken piece of himself--his tusk--and uses it to write the epic story. Her significant limp is her broken tusk.

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept."

We have this opportunity as a community. Yes, there will always be a clear and distinct moment when "everything changed." It will never be the same again, but I feel great hope that, as is the case with my sister, the brokeness brought with it the gift of creating something sustainable and beautiful in its real-ness, beautiful because it once had a broken tusk.

"Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand... once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.” ― Margery Williams from The Velveteen Rabbit

If you want to make something Real, love it.
May we love our broken community into Real.

Beautiful City

Touched my heart today.
We are a kula who will continue to build a Beautiful City.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=fvwp&v=EXezjFLTl-c&NR=1

Blessing for Hearts That Are Confused

For the Interim Time
by Irish Poet John O'Donohue

When near the end of day, life has drained
Out of light, and it is too soon
For the mind of night to have darkened things,

No place looks like itself, loss of outline
makes everything look strangely in-between,
Unsure of what has been, or what might come.

In this wan light, even trees seem groundless.
In a while it will be night, but nothing
Here seems to believe the relief of dark.

You are in this time of the interim
Where everything seems withheld.

The path you took to get here has washed out;
The way forward is still concealed from you.

"The old is not old enough to have died away;
Then new is still too young to be born."

You cannot lay claim to anything;
In this place of dusk,
Your eyes are blurred;
And there is no mirror.

Everyone else has lost sight of your heart
And you can see nowhere to put your trust;
You know you have to make your own way through.

As far as you can, hold your confidence.
Do not allow your confusion to squander
This call which is loosening
Your roots in false ground,
that you might come free
From all you have outgrown.

What is being transfigured here is your mind,
And it is difficult and slow to become new.
The more faithfully you can endure here,
The more refined your heart will become
For your arrival in the the new dawn.

Tending the Fire of Intention on Imbolc

Two days ago, glancing out an upstairs window at a plum tree, I noticed small green buds timidly making their first appearance. The first stirrings of life concealed in it potential moving towards life revealed in its fullness.



Brighid Sowing Spring by Gael Kitty

 Today is Imbolc, a cross-quarter holy day in the wheel of the Celtic year, and heralds the stirrings of Spring. As I peered once again out the upstairs window at first light, as if from a whispered cue from Brighid, the goddess of this holy day, those timid buds have declared their presence as delicate white blossoms each holding the promise of luscious fruit come summer. That which was guarded in the dark is stirring towards the light. That which was intangible, manifested. Potency took form.

Brighid is the Fire Goddess, the keeper of the flame, and is closely associated with lengthening of days, the brilliant green tips of new grass’ first beginning, snowdrop flowers daring to bloom on the still frozen earth. She is said to hold and tend the flame of the sun during the darkest days between November 1 (Samhain) and Imbolc. Her flame is the fire of potency and creativity that awakens the earth to begin to spring forth with new life. She kindles the flame of sexual desire which will rage fully by the next cross-quarter day (Beltaine in May) when new life is planted in the womb. Her radiance tends to healing the body and alights the intellect with fresh vision. The warmth of her voice stirs the heart and poetry springs forth. She is the keeper of the hearth, and the light in the dark of despair.

On this day, it is a day to tend to the flame of your intention. The year is still new, that which your heart desires and that you have willfully set into the soil of your being, is showing the first signs of its journey from dormancy to one of action. These seeds of intention must still be kept warm and held in protection against becoming frozen, stagnant, dead. In Sanskrit, stoking the flame of your will is called Tapas. Tapas is like the smoldering fire of Brighid warming the seeds of your intention (Sankalpa) so that they begin to extend beyond the protective boundaries of their seed state and move towards the actions that will take root and sprout, blossom and fruit. Whatever intentions or New Year’s resolutions you made (whether you made them at Samhain, the Solstice, or more traditionally in the United States, on New Year’s Day), this is the critical moment to re-affirm the intention. Re-kindle the fire of the will and heat the potential beneath the surface. With an inner whisper of the Brighid, call forth buds and blossoms into their form.

May the highest intention of your heart continued to be kindled by the fire of your will. May your dreams begin to take root and sprout forth into being as we enter into the stirring of Spring. May the stirring of your dreams bring you to the balanced place of effort and grace so that the buds will blossom and the blossoms will fruit.

Happy Imbolc!

Cultivating the "Holy Wow!"

2012 has arrived! May this year bring you more fully into your heart!


These first six days of the new year have blessed us in Northern California with some of the most spectacular sunsets I've witnessed in my years here. Firey reds and expressive oranges have given way to explosive pinks and deep mysterious purples. Every afternoon I have gone out to witness the unfolding light and a swelling of pure amazement pours out in the oh so eloquent, "Holy Wow! Amazing!" And the cool thing is that each day, it seems to get more incredible.


In our journey into the heart, into the space of the great I AM, we are much the same as this ever expansive unfolding light show I've been witnessing. Delving into our practices and fully engaging our hearts into all we do, we bear witness to our own inner expansion bringing us to a state of sheer delight, wonder, and astonishment at who we are. It's a state called "camatkara," which is eloquently defined by my friend and tantric scholar Chris "Hareesh" Wallis as "the state of fully self-aware expansive wonder, where Consciousness is suffused with the sudden rapture of great beauty, vibrating with awestruck joy." (Tantra Illuminated, Anusara Press, 2011)


As 21st Century adults, it is so easy to step into the current of cynicism (anti-wonder). We get sucked into a black hole of thinking we know everything and being amazed by nothing. People think the spiritual path is is meant to take you closer to a void of nothingness rather than a throbbing, pulsating state of expansive wonder. And, rather than being curious about the mysteriousness of 2012, we grasp on to apocalyptic visions of fear. With all this, it is time for visionaries of the heart to join together and proclaim 2012 as:

The Wonder Year.
Amazing. Astonishing. Awakening.

This is a year to soften ourselves back to a place of curiousity, wonder, and delight at the very fact of our embodiment. To be born at all is really quite incredible, if not improbable. To be born into such an exciting time of Consciousness awakening among so many wonderful practioners of the heart is downright jaw-dropping. In my classes, all of 2012 will be dedicated to actively cultivate this "Holy Wow" so that we can shine light into a cynical culture. Together, we will meet each breath, each pose, each sunset with fresh eyes, enthusiasm, and curiousity.

The Pause Before the Meal: A Thanksgiving Blessing

When I was a little girl, my grandfather offered a blessing before each meal. it was always the same and there was a deep devotion in his words:

"Dear lord, for what we are about to receive may we be deeply grateful. bless this food to our bodies and our bodies to thy service"

My grandfather's words were simple, but said it all.  So perfect was the sentiment that 30 years since he passed, I still remember and hold it in my heart.  The power of offering a simple blessing before you partake of any meal creates space to take in the beauty and bounty before you; to remember all who took part in it's arriving before you, and to acknowledge that it will become you and give you the energy to offer yourself into the world.

Though I truly think there is no greater pre-meal grace than the one my grandfather offered, this year, I would like to offer to you my own blessing for your Thanksgiving meal . . .

Thanksgiving Grace

May we take this moment of pause to remember the deep connections that gather us around this table of abundance.

On this Thanksgiving Day, as we enjoy this meal, may we take a moment to gaze into each other's eyes and see the sparkle of the Eternal.

 

As we raise our glasses, may we drink in the beauty of the diversity in which the Eternal offers Itself.

May we fill ourselves with gratitude for all of those who have loved us and challenged us during this year.

May we bow in deep appreciation for the love offered in the form of this food and having been fed with such love, may we make our offerings into the world in service of the Highest.

A Little Time Travel on Anusara's Birthday

August 15, 2005

"Congratulations, Abby! You are a fully Certified Anusara Yoga Teacher!" said Anusara Founder John Friend.  "I really love what you wrote for your Grand Finale exam question. You're a part of the grand vision of this method. You have a voice in it, and you can help manifest it."

and in that one phone call, I became Anusara Certified Teacher #146.  Years of practice, years of training, years of teaching, and now . . . the future. Manifesting the grand vision: Day 1.
August 15, 2011

Today is Anusara's 14th Birthday!  Part of my personal celebration was to go back and read that Vision I had during my Certification  process. Here's what I wrote in the winter of 2005. I have to say, it's all unfolding just the way I envisioned it.

Grand Finale Question: What is your dream and vision for Anusara Yoga? How do you intend to help make that dream manifest?

"I was blessed last summer [August 15, 2004] to be on retreat with John Friend at Inner Harmony on the 7th birthday of Anusara Yoga.  I have often contemplated my vision of Anusara, as well as my role within the Anusara community since then.

I envision Anusara as a dynamnic, ever-changing, yet centered organization and community. This vision will mean that there will be times when it draws in and then expands back out again. I dream that as members of the community, we will not allow ourselves to become attached to any particular moment or form that Anusara embodies, and that we will remain open-hearted and open-minded to the flow of Anusara while being ever-aware and rooted in the philosophy and foundational tenets of the practice. My role in this vision is to be vigilant in remaining fresh, studied and curious, as well as to continue to ask myself if I am serving at my highest capacity. By keeping my view, my authentic language, my practice, and my service percolating and expanding, it will remain as dynamic and changing as the organization itself. Allowing spanda, not only withing myself, but within an entire organization takes courage and softenss.

I dream that as Anusara continues to grow, holding strong to its core, we as Anusara teachers and students will actively seek the Teacher Within and to rise to new heights. I see a unifed organization that is built around integrity and a desire to serve each other.  I dream that from our practices, we will grow an inner strength that teaches us to be less demanding of John Friend and senior teachers.  I can help this manifest by continually deepening my own practice.  It is within our own expereince that we become who we are and rise up to offer our unique role within the growing Anusara community.

Finally I envision that Anusara will bcome more than a hatha yoga style.  I see Anusara as a spiritual culture and lifestyle.  Anusara philosophy transforms lives by completely changing how life is viewed.  Today, we are pioneers in a new era as yoga has come West.  Anusara will play a key role by making a broad-based tantric vision of ourselves, the world, and the Divine accessibile to people in all walks of life, from all cultrues and backgrounds.  People will raise their children with a belief in the intrinsic goodness of life in all its manifestations.  People will run their businesses based on Anusara's Universal Principles of Alignment. I can make this vision manifest by living in a life-affirming way that does not deny the beliefs, religions, or choices of those around me. I can share my spiritual life in a way that is non-thretening and non-judgemental. I can "first, see the beauty" in all situations.  As we live our lives in this way, it grows exponentially, because it is all inclusive, life affirming, and a rich experience of life of this earth."

RIsing Up to the Challenge

In the 1980s, my teacher, John Friend designed a "hard core" yoga practice called the Eye of the Tiger.  It was the time of Rocky 2--when the hero goes finally goes beyond "going the distance" and beats his nemesis Apollo Creed because he has an iron will and and a desire that comes from the heart of hearts.  Rocky II's theme song, by Survivor, perfectly spoke to the will and desire that the yogin possesses in their pursuit of the highest expressions of the heart through the practice of asana.

Regarding the Eye of the Tiger Practice, John wrote:

"The Eye of the Tiger practice was my original advanced asana practice that I began in the mid-80’s. The premise was to embody a fierce, single-focus aspiration to become the highest vessel for Spirit so to best serve the Goodness and to be able to fully enjoy life. The image of the Tiger’s eye is when the Tiger is hungry and on the prowl for food. A single focused gaze reflecting a burning desire for fulfillment that won’t be denied. The fire of that longing sparkles in the tiger’s eyes reflecting the tremendous power and energy of a spiritual warrior’s will. "

Over the 20+ years since John first penned this practice sequence (a sequence that pre-dates Anusara Yoga as an entity), this style of practice has been woven deeply into the fabric of the practice lives of Anusara practitioners.  And, as Consciousness expands, this practice has come to take on many forms.  Across the country (and world), you will find a wide variety of variations: The Practice, The Tigress Practice, Teacher's Practice-- what it really means is practicing in community; supporting each other to new heights; being inspired by each other's accomplishments and supporting each other when we are being challenged to our limits.  There is conversation and silence; laughter and groans; it is a practice that requires strength and stamina married to softness and fluidity.  It is the ultimate expression of the divine marriage of Shiva and Shakti.

Several months ago, it occurred to me that, at this point, many (most) Anusara practitioners--even the seasoned ones--may not have ever practiced the Eye of the Tiger in it's entirety as originally written, and thus a series was born.  On Super Bowl Sunday (we called it Super Sadhana Sunday), some 40 yogins from the San Francisco Bay Area joined me in re-creating the original version of the practice--some 130 poses in a span of 4 .5 hours.  This practice is not for the faint of heart--the original document lays out the beginning of the practice as "10 to 108 sun salutes."  During the course of our own Super Bowl Sunday, we practiced the full spectrum, including a total of 21 Urdhva Dhanurasanas.  The intensity of the practice is not just in it's myriad of hand balances and deep backbends, but in it's completeness.  The EoT incorporates at least 10 minutes of meditation and 10 minutes of savasana to make it full and complete, for the richest practice goes beyond raw power and refines itself into the artfulness of expression. 

We named ourselves The Kundalini Kula, because the tiger represents Durga’s tiger, the Kundalini within each of us. As John explains, "This is the ultimate creative power that we ride with great skill since it is dangerous energy which can be used for evolution or destruction."
Take a peek into our time together (accompanied by the practice's theme song):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n__gpHnpfVY

May we continue to rise to the occasion of the practice from the deepest desire to know the truth of our own hearts.  Special thanks to Certified Anusara Yoga Teacher Danielle Hougard for the beautiful pictures here in this post.

Power and Promise

2011 is no longer officially "new" and yet with 11 full months left, it still holds infinite promise. It's funny how quickly we can let go of that feeling of potential and opportunity once the champagne bottles have been recycled. What on January 1st seems full of POWER & PROMISE, by February 1st is old news, old patterns, and the idea that we'll get our next shot at potential and promise in the Spring, or in 2012.

Each year, I create an overall theme for my classes. This highest intention or remembrance holds the entirety not only of my teaching, but of my own practice. To have a single-point of focus as a community for the duration of a year has been very powerful bond between me and my students since I began the yearly theme in 2006. Some years the theme is articulated in nearly every class, and in other year's I hold the space for it and it's presence is felt more than spoken. The yearly theme is like a great river, from which many tributaries flow, but it is the source--the wellspring or, tirtha--of every sequence, every public class, every event.

This year's theme, "POWER & PROMISE: it's all about the practice" solidified for me in late October when I was in Santa Fe studying with John Friend. Together with friends and my dear teacher in this msytical city, I felt a deep truth arise from me and wash over and through me. This practice of yoga works. It works at cracking my heart wide open. It works at making me better at being who I am--authentically. It works by bringing me into deeper connection with others and with the world all around. Really, all I have to do is SHOW UP with my heart and mind open to this promise, and I will awaken to my own divine nature more fully. It can't not happen, which isn't to say it will happen in the way I want or think I want. To me, yoga's promise is that it helps me remember that I am empowered, and that I too, am full of promise and potential.

POWER & PROMISE is manifesting itself in a teaching year that is about what it means to have a regular practice and to become refined in the practice as well as to allow ourselves to be moved by the practice. The residing Devi for this year , Saraswati, reminds us to take our raw power and potential (our Kali side) and to organize it into the highest offering of expression. I’m teaching and offering with clear purpose. In the one short month since 2011 began, I have already seen an incredible shift in my weekly students—not only in their asana practice, but in their commitment and the meaning they are bringing to the mat.

I invite you to join into the remembrance of Power & Promise in your practice this year. Get on your mat and watch yourself shift in 2011!

It All Starts with Showing Up

I've been thinking a lot about what it means to show up for my practice.
What does that mean exactly?


I guess it all started nearly a year ago when I was studying with my teacher John Friend during a week-long Immersion here in San Francisco. At one point during the week, John brought our awareness to how often we left to go the bathroom during the sessions.  I'd heard it before, and didn't disagree with anything he was saying, and yet, the grande latte sitting in my bladder, began to speak out with a vengeance.


"John just doesn't understand how small a female bladder can be and how small the woman's bathroom is--five stalls for 150 women... we have to stagger ourselves.  It's not healthy to hold it in, and how will I do my twists and folds if I don't go?"


Then, once to my mat, determined not to get off my mat FOR ANYTHING, just to prove that I could go the whole session without surrendering to the growing urge, the grande latte really started talking, to which I inwardly replied,


"No way. I'm not going to go in there after he said that. I'm gonna stick it out.  He'll think I'm a horrible person, a bad student, no adhikara; he'll take my Certification away.  I can DO this!"


then


"This is stupid. I can't concentrate on my breath, on my practice, nothing if I don't go. Ardha Matsyendrasana could be a disaster!  John is a good, kind, teacher. He doesn't want me to be miserable. He's not on some sort of a power trip.  Just go. It'll be ok"


So, I snuck off my mat and returned, relieved, a few minutes later, though I felt guilty about it.


Do I think for one second that John wanted me to wet myself to prove my studentship. Absolutely not. He's much too kind and practical for that.  He was in no way trying to exert any sort of insane control thing.  He just wanted to start up the conversation in all of us . . . 


How are we showing up?


I spent a long time musing this over the next few weeks, maybe even months.  I watched my students: the ones who were habitually late, or who habitually left early.  I watched everything. Who was really present--not just on their mat--but in every aspect of who they were.   I did the same in my own practice. Was I showing up and ready to practice or was I just on my mat?  Was I implementing the things John had recommended for me every day or would I try to do a crash course of it right before I saw him again?  Was I really in this thing?  


What does it mean to show up?


I began to feel that each practice begins way way way before it's scheduled start--sometimes as early as coming out of savasana in your previous practice.  To really show up to your practice is what you do in-between.  It's in many ways cumulative.  Everything that I do, between now and then is setting the foundation for where I will begin my next practice, whether it's on my own, or with my teacher. It's as much as about pre-cursors to the practice as it is the practice itself.


The end of October comes, and I find myself in incredible Santa Fe, NM, once again to study with the Main Man.  Having spent a lot of time thinking about this showing up thing, I came up with a plan, not because I had anything to prove to my teacher, but I had a lot to prove to myself.  What was it that was happening in the hours before our start time, that would take away from me being ready to practice at the precise moment he was ready to start?  Going backward through my routines, I came up with one very obvious culprit--I always had that one last coffee or tea--sometimes taking that last gulp as I emerged from my car or even carrying it into the venue me, as if a warm beverage was my mat or a blanket.  Duh! Of course, I have to sneak out to the bathroom.  So, I created an affirming boundary.  Hot beverage of choice finished 2 hours before practice begins. Brilliant.


Next, what do I typically do when I get to the venue? Well, another obvious answer, it's all about socializing with my friends from all over the country.  Community baby!  But wait, had I ever still been chatting away when I felt John walk in the room?  He'll ring the bells and gather us "up close and personal anyway." What if, I created another affirming boundary for myself? On my mat and ready to practice 5 minutes before the scheduled start time. "That's a Bingo!" (475,000 yoga points to anyone who can tell me the movie that's from.)


Everything shifted with that first morning's practice. It was the best practice for me . . . maybe ever.  And the week continued like that.  A major shift had happened.
 I showed up.
I showed up for my practice in a totally new way.
I showed up for MYSELF.


We all have those things that we are doing or not doing that are preventing us from truly stepping in.  In my case, and what I guess is true of most others, it's the little things that we aren't even relating to our mat time that are preventing us from getting the most from our mat time.  We try to get one more thing done before leaving for class; we schedule an appointment too soon after the scheduled finish of class; we have that last cup of coffee... 


This year, I've invited my students to create an affirming boundary around whatever keeps them from fully showing up.  I've invited them by asking them to follow the "On the mat and ready to practice 5 minutes before scheduled start time" (rule).  I'm holding it up on my end, too. Not just in my practice, but in teaching. I'm in the class at least 5 minutes before, I'm starting right on time, and class is complete when it is scheduled to be.  As a result, people are telling me that they are finding so much more meaning in their practice, just as I have found in mine.


Yes, it all starts with showing up.
And showing up starts . . . now.

Crocodiles and Snakes . . . Oh My!

On Monday, I woke from a spectacular dream with a knowing smirk on my face . . . "I get it," I said aloud not only to myself but to the entirety of the Universe, and immediately went right back into its rich imagery and the story it was telling.

I am standing on the bank of a beautiful river whose current is swift. I've just come out of a protective thicket of trees and stand staring at the call of the waters. This goddess of a river seems to be chanting "Dive in, dive in." At this moment, I also hear footsteps behind me, and turning, remember that I was leading a throng of people to this river bank. Looking back, I see dear loved ones, friends, students. They all followed to this place--to this moment.

Standing on a large rock (because, you know, I'm a goddess of the short variety, and, alas my dreamworld didn't change me into a fantastically long-legged goddess), I called out to everyone,

"We've arrived! This is the place I told you about! Jump in!"

As I spoke, I saw a few looks of trust, but mostly, I saw eyes filled with horror. I changed my stance on the rock so that I could see both the throng and the river. Revealing themselves, emerging from the water were many crocodiles and snakes. They were basking, swimming, slithering--doing their reptilian thing.

"No worries. Those guys are no problem! I know these waters. I know these creatures. You can trust me, they won't bother you at all. In fact, they're quite nice." But, try as I might no one budged. No one accepted my invitation to jump in. Looking back and forth from the throng to the river and from the river to the throng, I knew there was only one thing I could do that would get even one of them to dive into the creature-filled current . . .

I had to dive in.
I had to swim with the snakes.
I had to ride the backs of the crocodiles.
I had to let the current carry me and engulf me.

And so . . . off the rock I jumped. Emerging from the water, once again, I called out to my companions, "See, it's fine. We're totally taken care of. Dive in! Dive in! Who is with me?"

Many of those who had come so far with me, through the woods all the way to the river bank decided that they were happy with the journey they had taken, but this was the end of the line. It was absolutely too much to ask to jump into the swift current . . . not to mention the very dangerous demons lurking about. Nope, back into the thicket they turned.

Others, decided that the bank had a beautiful view and began sketching plans to reside there to watch the current, to maybe wait . . . and . . . see . . . you know . . . if I got eaten alive. Then maybe someday later they'd come in for a swim.

But some. Some accepted the invitation. They trusted. They jumped whole-hearted into the current with me. And we frolicked.

Now, I'm sure a Freudian analyst would have much to say about my crocodiles and snakes. But oh, that's so dated. No, they would never understand the rich tapestry of imagery within my dream from the perspective of a yogin hiding in plain site--from the perspective of (watch out! scary word coming!) tantra. Which is exactly why I smiled and smirked upon waking.

My beautiful river, was, of course, the outpouring of Consciousness into the world as Shakti. She is at once always the same and ever-moving. Both essence and flow. She is the paradox of herself. She is sara, the flow of grace; the power of Conciousness; the promise that we will be held even within her swift current.

The wriggling, writhing, slithering snakes are (hush up Freudians! this is my show!) Kundalini Shakti, the unrivaled empowered unfolding of Consciousness into and as every fiber of our being. She who coils and stretches us from within. She who sometimes is so subtle we don't notice her undulations, and who sometimes stirs so wildly that we KNOW she has penetrated into new territories of who we are.

The ancient crocodiles . . . they are kula. They are our chosen community. A community of the heart and of the practice, for the crocodile is born of community. Eggs are laid close together--there is safety in numbers after all. Each future croc alone in its hard little shell waiting, listening. You see, crocodiles have a special little tooth that they use to free them from the boundaries that they have now almost outgrown. The tooth expands the boundaries! They listen until a lone "tap tap tap" begins the process. One begins, but then they all join in the tapping, until they have hatched into community. And! As if this isn't fantastic enough . . . they march right into their waiting mother's mouth and she herself carries them into the river, opens her mouth, and releases them into the currents of Grace.

I'm not standing on the banks any longer. I am taking the plunge. The current is faster than the one I was in before. It's more fun, and sure, probably more dangerous. There are crocodiles and snakes, but they are beneficent--they are my community and my own innate power. I know this is going to be an awesome ride in the currents of Consciousness.

"See, it's fine. We're totally taken care of. Dive in! Dive in! Who is with me?"

Yoga Bohemian: Cannonball Jumps (Press-Up Handstand Prep)

Churning the Ocean: Yoga and the Gulf Oil Spill

Recently, I’ve felt unexpectedly called by the water, and in particular the ocean. This is a big surprise as I’ve always felt the call of mountains and deserts, but not so much by the sea. However, when beckoned by nature, I heed her call. Two weeks ago, I traveled to be with and in the ocean, to receive what she was trying to offer and whisper into the ear of this land lover. To quote Jimmy Buffett, “Mother mother ocean, I have heard your call.”
For a few days, I sat on the sand watching the waves; I snorkeled for the first time, and on the ferry ride back to Long Beach, I experienced something I’d always dreamed of—a whale making itself known to us. During these days, my thoughts and heart turned to the Gulf of Mexico and the epic tragedy that is unfolding there. In particular, my thoughts turned to sea turtles and the many ancient stories from far flung cultures—stories from the Americas, Northern Europe, even India– tell us that the world is carried on the shell of a tortoise. Yoga mythology’s offering of this idea comes in the character of Kurma, the tortoise avatar of world sustainer Lord Vishnu. Kurma makes his appearance in the story of the Churning of the Ocean of Milk.
I began to ponder the story I’ve heard so many times, and how it can help us in our response to the disaster that is the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. No, it doesn’t suggest sending golf balls or airbags or anything else into the spewing mess. Yoga never hand feeds us, but invites us to make the leap and to engage the ancient tales into our world and our lives as they are today. Perhaps there was no BP, but, conveniently there are demons!
The tale of the Churning of the Ocean of Milk finds the gods distraught at the loss of Amrit, the nectar of immortality. The gods, at one of the grand council meetings they so love, decide to ask the help of the demons in churning the great Ocean of Milk from which the treasured elixir would spring. Having been promised half of the nectar, the demons agreed to help. They helped to dig up the great Mount Madura to use as the churning stick, and placed it upon the back of the tortoise god Kurma (the fate of the world on the back of the turtle). Then, Vasuki, a sea serpent, was enlisted as the churning rope, and wrapped around the mountain. Vasuki’s tail was held by the gods and his head by the demons (this positioning, of course, was no coincidence, but an advantage Vishnu concocted through trickery). Through the violent churning, Vasuki’s breath began to steam and the demons were nearly suffocated by the noxious heat.
As the constant churning continued, poor Vasuki began to feel quite queasy, and soon began to vomit a poison that threatened not only the Ocean of Milk, but all life, and all the Amrit. At this moment Lord Shiva, drinks in the spewing poison, holding it in his throat, causing it to turn blue. As Shiva held the poison, it began to be transformed by the powers of yoga. As it transformed in the blue throat of the yogin, amazing treasures, including the Amrit began to arise from the ocean. The sea bounty continued spewing forth, just as before the poison had seeped and stained the waters, but now, the offering arose on a lotus as the Goddess of Beauty and Abundance, Laksmi.
Shiva, the yogin, drinks the poison that is spewing into the ocean. The Ocean of Milk is restored, and beauty and abundance in the form of the Divine Feminine arise. Now this is a story, that’s starting to look like it might have a good ending . . .
I’ve been going over and over the story and our current situation. I’m not here to offer some sappy Pollyanna story of how this will all work out … my heart is breaking for the Gulf. But, how can I, as the yogin, do as Shiva did, and drink the poison, hold it in the realm of my expression, so that nothing less than a massive shift of Consciousness can happen and the Goddess can arise from it? Will we finally enter the age when we return to the Mother? Can we transform the poison into the very nectar of life?
I was born and raised in the South, and have felt sad and puzzled for a long while that so little interest is paid to environmental concerns there, despite a deep sense of home and the land from which we sprung. For many in my home region, environmental issues are for Liberals. If the spill had happened off the coast of California, would it have gotten the attention of those not inclined to notice? Being green really has nothing to do with being from a blue or red state. Some may not care about sea turtles, but not only are the magnificent creatures of the ocean threatened, whole ways of life are threatened. People who have worked the sea for generations are seeing their livelihoods poisoned by the spewing vomit of Vasuki. Has Consciousness given a wakeup call that cuts across divisive lines of politics?
You see, as a tantrika, I can’t just align to Consciousness when she offers herself as the Amrit. To Open to Grace, as we say in Anusara Yoga, is to open to Consciousness as it offers itself in all forms—even in the form of the spew of millions of gallons of oil into the sea. I do not have to like it. I do not have to pretend that all is well, or that one way that the Universal offers itself is as good or as pretty or as life affirming as the next. It’s not, and it would be ludicrous to imply that it is. But, the unlikeable and ugly IS an offering nonetheless, and my opportunity and invitation as another form of that offering is to open to the possibility held within it, and then to engage with it.
Like Shiva, I can take the poison and hold it. I can hold it, and churn it, and engage with it. I can hold the poison in the throat of my expression, so that I offer my energy towards healing. I can hold the poison in my throat to make way for the beauty and abundance of the shift that will happen as the Divine Feminine arises again, on her lotus, out of the Ocean that was poisoned by the convenience of cheap oil and a forgetfulness of the natural world.
May we as a community of hearts, as a community of engaged yogins, as creatures of this Universe, remain open to the world as it offers itself. May we turn towards that which is life affirming, aligned to the Highest, and an expression of the Divine Love which embodied us. May we offer our love to the creatures of the deep, the fluency of water, and to all who are hurting.
“Mother Mother Ocean. I have heard your call…”