HOW TO MEDITATE.

At nearly every retreat I lead and meditation class I teach someone(s) will ask me "How do I meditate?" or comment that "meditation is really hard" and, you know, "just not working" for them.

"I tried it this one time...." they continue, "and my mind just wouldn't stop....is that normal?....maybe it's not for me....I'd like to try but I don't know how....is there an easy way?....what's your trick?...."

Sound familiar?

I've been there. Trust me. I'm there a good chunk of the time still.

I've begged my teachers for the formula. For the answer. For something! I was convinced they knew the secret that would take meditation from rip my hair out to, well, effortless. Let me rephrase. In asking for the easy way out I was asking them to help me hop, skip, jump over the rock-bottom work of meditation and deliver me queen-like in a struggle-proof carriage directly into the hands of enlightenment.

Essentially I was told dream on. And knock it off.

They wisely told me and remind me still - quoting from the Bhagavad Gita - that I am what I seek. Or Tvam Tat Asi - "Thou That Art".

It's taken me years, a lot of frustration, and what feels like many, many, many failed attempts to experience the wisdom in this statement. I am what I seek. I am what I seek. I am what I seek. And here's where I pause. Sorry. You have to do the work and sit with this one. Obligatory "leave you hangin" here as sometimes words simply fall short. Consider this incentive.

My oh-so-wise teachers also shared, with I swear a twinkle of mischievous enjoyment in their eyes, that it's all - the entire experience - meditation. And when they said all, they meant all. The batshit crazy voices blasting themselves into the walls of my mind. The mysterious pains that I never feel elsewhere but somehow become life and death on my cushion. The fact that my left foot passes out and then hammers itself with needles in its listless stupor when I shift position. The dreaded "who cares? does this matter? what am I doing? this is crap." that plays on repeat in the least opportune moments. The sliding from bed to floor, mala in hand, wondering what makes this more important than sleep. The falling asleep, hereto with mala in hand and the best of intentions of course. I've had every known disease and a few I discovered. I've come up with solutions to every world problem, with humility of course. I've committed numerous crimes, climbed many mountains, fixed my kids and husband and everyone else I know, and single-handedly secured world peace. All this without leaving my seat. All while the players of my mind charade - critic, scientist, creative, dreamer, victim, parent, teacher, good girl, bad girl, shamed girl, acclaimed girl, hurt girl, strong girl, little girl, grown girl - consistently show up uninvited and demand immediate attention.  Apparently they're all welcome. All of this really. All teachers. All part of the gig.

That being said, I'm only coming around to such wisdom because I stuck, and am sticking, with it - meditation that is. It takes sitting nearly every day. Every. Single. Day. Turns out there's a massive amount of trust and faith involved, a fair share of doubt (you know, just to keep it interesting), and absolutely no shortcut. None. Nada. Zilch. I've looked.

So here's the truth with no artificial sweetness: Meditation can be hard (really, really hard), especially at first. In fact, I'm more and more convinced difficulty has been hardwired in. You can thank the cosmic jokester(s?) for said insanity and (sense my grudging hesitation) - brilliance.

This brilliance in a nutshell? The challenge makes us want it.

What "it" is may be ambiguous for a long, long time. But that "it" keeps us going. More or less pulls  us forward, toward, into.

It's pretty sweet (albeit sometimes in a sour sort of way).

And difficulty is what actually delivers some of the gifts meditation has to offer.

Small things like discipline, desire, surrender, compassion, grace, connection, endurance, focus, selflessness, self-reflection, and peace. 

I love the way Elizabeth Gilbert's friend Richard puts it:

"You can't get to the castle if you don't swim the moat."

Yup. It's like that.

All that to say (thanks for humoring my chatter), I've distilled the process of meditation down to this:

Stop.

Sit.

Stay.

That's it. That's my recipe for meditative success, if there is such thing, void of goal, ending, and public affirmation.  Oh and no promise of enlightenment though I can promise your efforts will not be wasted. It's like saving a million dollars one penny at a time. They only add up.

Of course there's a bit of shameless bait and switch happening here. Said recipe sounds simple (geez there she goes with another "s" word!) but, as you can and should expect, is far more deep than a surface glance reveals. Each of the three - Stop. Sit. Stay. - have layers to be peeled (blame quantum physics). So here we go. We begin to peel.

STOP.

Meditation demands the first thing we do is stop. Stop the busyness of life - the tasks, the lists, the emails, the calls, the scrolling, the liking, the chatter, the doing, the outward interacting. It may mean stopping the alarm and stopping the sleep. We have to drop it all. It's in this moment that we make the choice: stop so we can sit or...not. To stop means turning things off, shutting things down, closing conversations and doors and saying no so we can say yes to this one thing. In the stop lies the gate. This is where we choose to enter through the smallest of doors into the secret garden of soul. For some it's the most difficult step. For some it may never happen. The pull of life is so strong. But for others who choose to enter through the stop, this - this - is where it all begins.

SIT.

There's no trick here. I mean what I say - sit down. Sit on a chair, a cushion, a blanket, a ledge. Sit on the grass, the sand, a bench, or the floor. Sit in a closet, a class, or a park. Sit. Sit. Sit. Make yourself as comfortable as possible (no sense in fighting what can be adjusted) and then sit. Some may find it easier to come with a plan. Maybe a specific mantra or pranayama (breath) practice. Maybe it's a visualization or guided meditation. This can be really helpful at first as mental activity may be stuck in hyper mode for awhile. Essentially, dog meet bone. Give your mind something to play with. Then ask it to sit.

PS - You may find it helpful to set a timer. Olympians rarely wake up at the Olympics. Meditation is similar. Start small. Like a minute (you laugh now...). Build each day. I find it more helpful to build on my (perceived) success rather than resent my (perceived) failure. Set a timer then forget about time. Be in it for as long as you're in it.

Which leads me to...

STAY.

Through it all - the discomfort, restlessness, loss of desire, immediacy of thoughts and feelings, tiredness, schedule change, anxiety, fear, lack of "progress", frustration - through it all, stay. Stay in your stopping and your sitting. Stay with your practice. Stay in it. Listen. Feel. Soften. Look in. Bring your mind back time and time again to the point of your focus (or the emptiness if that's what you're doing) and stay. Sense the millions of other people who are meditating around the world and stay. Sense those you love fiercely and stay. Sense the wiser you pulling you forward and stay. Sense the tradition, the teachers, the purpose, the depth and stay. Let the difficulty roll through you and over you and stay. Let the practice be whatever it is, whatever comes up, whatever does or doesn't happen and stay. Stay for you. Stay for us. Stay for the world. Stay because your practice does make a difference. I've come to believe that faith is the combination of discipline, resolve, and hope. Meditation takes tremendous faith. When you doubt, stay with it. When you believe, stay with it. When you don't care, stay with it. When you're bursting with love and connection, stay with it. When you're empty, stay. When you're full, stay. When you're the fullest kind of empty, stay. Stay with it and without fail it will stay with you.

So here it is my friends. My not-so-simple simplified recipe for meditation. Know that I cheer you on, I'm here if you have questions, and I have the deepest gratitude for the beautiful force you bring to the world through your meditation.

To the light within.

Namaste.

End Note: As always, please do not consider this a one-size-fits-all prescription. Each of us are different and
carry a variety of experiences within us. Some of those may be traumatic and painful. If this is you,
I urge you to talk with a qualified professional as you begin your meditation rhythm. This is especially
necessary if you find meditation draws forth experiences that create excessive fear, stress, and anxiety.
You’re not “doing it wrong.” Ask for help. Seek what you need so you find what you search for.

IS "DO-IT-YOURSELF" MAKING US SICK?

Today I went to the Farmer’s Market. My favorite place really. Well, tied with the beach. Lately I’ve been walking the path that leads through the stands with a deepened sense of gratitude. The result (or gift mostly) of traversing the path of hard-knocks I’m only recently emerging from.

Let me explain.

After my first baby was born I acted out what I’d been meticulously planning for months. Pregnancy

makes you crazy. To my point, I canned a books worth of food (seduced by calling it "small batch"),
convinced filling our pantry would offer some sort of respite or security or peace. Something.
I baked everything from scratch, grew a quarter of an acre worth of food and actively shamed
myself if anything, including my time, went wasted or failed. Like a bat out of hell, I was out to prove
that I could do it. I could give my newborn daughter the best of everything and I could make it myself
and it would be done perfectly.

It doesn’t take a trained professional to see where this was headed.

Massive burnout, complete depletion and immense disappointment. No one told me there would

always be more to do, and that more could be done better. Or maybe they did and I wasn't ready
to listen.

About that time Pinterest had come on the scene, all sequined and shiny and irresistible. Canning

was sexy (or so they said) and the Do-It-Yourself movement erupted. Instagram went crazy (and
so did we) with “Look what I made Mom!” photos. All promised a sense of satisfaction, success
and extra cash in our pockets.

And yet.

So many people I know, including myself, paid a price for “doing it ourselves”. We lost money

(because let’s be serious, none of us made it like the picture the first go-round), time (10 minutes
my ass), health, sanity, and picked up a good dose of self-loathing in the process.

It leaves me wondering if the Do-It-Yourself movement is nothing more than pendulum backlash

against the machine of pre-packaged junk and big business nonsense. We’re tired of being duped
by superficial marketing and know we could do it better than that. It was for me. I stuck it to the man
alright. And put myself right in the docs office trying to undo my defensive mess.

But back to the market.

Today as I handed over my $6 to Kristine at Saunders Family Bakery and placed a freshly baked

loaf of gluten-free bread in my basket my heart swelled with connection and thanks. She was quick
to share her story - that she had family and friends with allergies and she so badly wanted to offer
them a good, healthy loaf of bread safe for them to eat. How she tried countless recipes to get it just
right, for them and for us. Geoff at Sacred Springs excitedly told me that they have a new location
opening as he filled up my howlette with chamomile kombucha. John at Bodhi Tree Juice Co.
mentioned they are looking for a storefront in Holland, recognizing we need them and their products
so badly here. I wholeheartedly agreed! As I picked up tomatoes and cucumbers from
Groundswell Farm and berries from Organic Blueberries LLC, granola from Good Life Granola,
I offered sincere and deep thanks to each vendor. They’re offering me food, sure. But what they
may not know is they’re giving me time, peace and space as well.

In making their bread and kombucha and granola and juices and veggies - doing their sacred

work in the world - they’re giving me space and freedom to do mine. To write, to teach, to practice
and study yoga, to parent. They’re allowing me the liberty of baking for fun rather than force and
spending more time cooking rather than frantically weeding.

They’re gracefully showing up in their community, in their way, so I can too.

Yoga calls this dharma. Rooting out our essence, what makes us "us", and living from there.

I find it mutually beneficial in the best possible way. Rather than stressing about paying for

something “I could just do myself” or actually trying to do it myself, I offer monetary support so
these amazing people can create and sustain a business. When we invest in our communities  -
through markets and small shops and classes - we enter into more than a simple transaction. We
reach beyond service or product and into relationship. We step towards building community and
connection. Ultimately we step towards ourselves. In supporting the work of others we may find
we support the work of own.

My dream isn’t to be a baker - but someone’s is.

My dream isn’t to be a juice bar owner - but someone’s is.

My dream isn’t to own a vegetable farm - but someone’s is.

And all these someone’s live in my community! And yours too.

Of course this isn’t license for fast food and cheap spending. Some things we really do have to do

ourselves. Like making meals, holding space around a table along with conversation, and creating
a home built on love and respect. What I’m pointing to is intention. When we dive head first into
doing-it-ourselves, what is our intention? And what might we be taking from another? It’s okay to
not do it all, all by ourselves (in fact it sounds a bit prideful really).

In fact, stepping back to take in the bigger picture may help us move from independence to

interdependence.

Basically into the place where we all give a damn. A place where we are seen and known and see

and know.

We get to celebrate when a business thrives and show up when others are on the verge of collapse.

We get to cheer and become ambassadors and be a part of something. We walk down the streets
or through the market and know people by name. There’s something really large in its smallness.
There greatness in its simplicity.

We move from Do-It-Yourself to Do-It-Together.

So maybe next time it comes up that you “do it yourself” consider a few things:

1. What is the True Cost (time, trials, money, driving, etc.)
2. Does this support your sacred work in the world?
3. What is your intention?
4. Is there someone in your community who is already doing this, and doing it well?

May we set down our pressures, our pride and our pushing and realize we can't gain it all by

attempting to do-it-all ourselves. Here’s to people supporting people and dreams supporting dreams.
Here's to dharma.

Peace to you, peace to our communities, peace to the world.

WHAT IS IT YOU CHASE?

Image from reddotblog.com

Last week I was shocked by a podcast. Not because of a story or anecdote or person but more because it held the answer to something I've been wrestling with for a while. I sat there stunned and then cried. I wrote and re-read and at some point just stared.

As this season's weather has haphazardly ping-ponged back and forth I've felt a similar experience happening within. Of course the climate and transition can affect us, and does, however this was a bit more than that. I felt rushed and overwhelmed, as if I was chasing something but couldn't exactly put my finger on what "it" was and had a sinking sense that I'd never actually catch it. A feeling that has plagued me a good chunk of my life. Most things had become a task to be completed, a list that didn't really end. I would get to the end of the day not really feeling like I'd finished what I had set out to do, leaving me with a sense of disappointment and regret. 

And then the podcast pummeled me. Or maybe scooped me up and rocked me. Probably both.

Ambition.

Ambition is every bit temptress and hero, equal parts effective and debilitating. For me, ambition had disguised itself as productive, achievement, and good. Although, I couldn't explain what "making it" looked like, I knew that if I didn't I'd be left behind. And behind was a place I didn't want to be.

It had lured me into the chase, never offering the goal. Instead of experiencing all that was promised, ambition had left me exhausted, empty and confused. I was pushing myself and I had no idea why. Why am I rushing my shower and folding the clothes so quickly? Why can't these dishes get done faster or this drive time be less? Why am I multi-tasking brushing my teeth? How can I shave a little time off here so I have more time there? Body tense, jaw locked, nerves alert - full 'bout it mode.

Last month in teacher training [500 hour!] we were asked to write our teaching mantra - the thing that keeps us coming back to our mat and back to our classes. The thing that guides us in sequencing, words and practice. I had this really nice mantra prepared. Something about challenging and nourishing and growth. All true but not quite the core of why I teach.

After a guided meditation our instructor asked us to write down our mantra and what came up for me was both unexpected and, to be honest, a bit of a let down.

The root of why I teach isn't because I want to offer something great to the world. It isn't because I have this grandiose plan or insight and want to share it. It isn't even because I want to be successful.

Nope.

I teach because I love yoga.

That's it.

I teach because I feel alive and whole on my mat. Because I can't think of anything else I would rather put my life towards.

I was so blinded by ambition, I couldn't even see the depth of beauty in this.

It took me a lot of writing and sifting to realize that ambition got scared. Ambition was let down that deep inside, where I'm striped of all the layers I've put on, something was preserved. A truth that remains untainted and pure. The knowledge that there's no greater gift we can offer the world than ourselves fully alive and whole, loving what we do. 

And so, more often than I care to count in one day, I remind myself that ambition isn't in charge anymore. That it's okay to have goals and dreams and to name each one. And then to remember that striving isn't why we're here. Chasing and achieving isn't what we're meant to do. I bring myself back to my center, over and over again, knowing from experience that some day living from this place will be my normal.

With practice and attention I'm getting better at recognizing the rising panic within that screams "I have to get this done quickly because I have so much else to do!" I relax my body and heart and mind. I soften my breath and feel - feel whatever it is that I'm doing. When the anxiety starts to brew I ask myself, "What is it you chase?" Most of the time I can't come up with an answer.

This morning as I sat by the fire and did my morning pages [more on this another day], I watched and listened to my kids. I was filled with gratitude and overwhelmed with joy simply because I get to be a part of their world. I watched them, fully present, play and act and create. I listened to their words and felt their presence. No worries or thought about past or future. My teachers in tiny form.

Moments like these await us when we set down our striving and chasing and ambition. The work is part reclaiming the beauty of the present we once knew and part learning how to live from this place in the reality we now have. It takes time, practice and compassion. It requires trading the sweet taste of completion, achieving, striving and the chase for a pace that's sustainable, a deep sense of worth and a life that feels that much more whole.

Today, ask yourself this: what is it you chase? Can you name it? Is it fulfilling or sapping you of energy and life? Ask yourself why you do what you do [work, parenting, hobbies, etc.]? What keeps you coming back? Keep asking that question until you get to the core. The place that first brings a knowing smile to your face if only for a second. Or maybe the place where you know it's time to give that thing up or reconfigure.

Peace to you, friends.

PS - If your curiosity is eating you alive, here's the podcast. 

PUMPKIN CHAI with tumeric and ginger + HOLDING THE LONG VIEW

A few weeks ago I was walking with my friend Kim and in her normal fashion she shared thoughts and insight that had me thinking for awhile after. I find myself so often wishing we had our conversations recorded. This time I strapped my head on and asked her to write down her thoughts [if she could remember them] as I thought they could benefit more than simply me.

She did!

And so I share them here. May the embrace of her words carry you this rainy morn.

Oh, and before you read, maybe you make yourself a warm, pumkin-y treat. I'm been dreaming of this recipe ever since cucurbits hit the market.

[THE RECIPE]

For the Concentrate:

2 tablespoons cinnamon chips
2 tablespoons dried ginger, minced
1 tablespoon dried turmeric, minced
1 teaspoon whole fennel
1/2 teaspoon whole cloves
1/4 teaspoon whole peppercorns
small piece of whole nutmeg [take a hammer and smash whole one] or a few sprinkles of ground
4 cups water

For the Chai:

1 cup milk of choice
2 tablespoons pumpkin puree
1 - 2 tablespoon honey or maple syrup
1 cup of concentrate

Place all ingredients in a medium size saucepan and bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, warm milk, pumpkin puree and honey in small saucepan until hot but not boiling. Remove from heat and pour into blender. Blend until very smooth [make sure your blender top has a way for steam to escape].

Strain and place one cup of concentrate in a single mug. Reserve the rest for another time. Store in refrigerator for a couple days.

Add milk to concentrate in mug and stir. Taste and add more sweetener as necessary.


[HOLDING THE LONG VIEW]

Some time ago I heard or read a definition of faith that was different than the the definition I have lived by most of my life. I often do not remember where I read or heard something. The point is that I remember it.  Many great insights go in and around and through me in a day, but when I remember it the next day and the next, then I know that particular wisdom holds a key to my growth.

The new definition went something like this: faith is putting oneself on the path of those that have gone before. To put myself on the path of those that have gone before me instantly struck me as a cooperation between discipline and trust, effort and hope. Being an optimist by nature, I’m really good at the hope and trust part.  I think at one time faith even came up on a spiritual gifts inventory that I completed. I suppose it is a blessing of sorts to be able to trust so easily, to expect that it’s all going to work out, not to worry my pretty little head about things I can’t do much about.

However, lately I’ve realized that my old working definition of faith short-circuited the formation of discipline in my life.  It zapped the satisfaction of working hard to achieve a goal. Maybe my definition of faith looked more like a definition of fate.  If I was meant to have anything, it would come to me by way of chance or a gift from Providence.  Sometimes you get what you want and sometimes you don’t. Oh, well.  Spin the wheel again.

My yoga teacher encourages, “Hold the long view.” She tells me this when I am struggling again with my short hamstrings or my weak mid-back muscles.  She tells me this when I want to be in  handstand, but I can hardly make it through the first preparation step.  She points out others in my class who seem to effortlessly pop their feet right up and tells me how long they have been practicing.They were practicing while I assumed it just wasn’t in the cards for me to be able to do or even say Adho Mukha Vrksasana (Sanskrit for “handstand”).

Practicing.  Yes, that’s it.  The counterpart of faith.  The steps along the path that others have trod to reach a destination that I am walking toward. I cannot hold the long view without taking each step toward the destination.  I cannot expect the full expression of my body in Yoga without going to my mat to practice between Thursday night classes. I cannot expect to deepen my awareness without consistent contemplative prayer. I cannot expect to discover my creativity without doing the work to confront my fears. The fruit of any path cannot be mine without a faith of action and hope.

I really want to be able to do Adho Mukha Vrksasana so you know what? I am on my mat most days doing fingertip Cobra push-ups and half-handstand holds at the wall. I am holding onto a faith that requires action.  I am walking in the way of those that have gone before and finding the joy of discipline along the way. The ones who have gone before me have become the ones to encourage me and offer accountability.  Another wise one said, “The road to heaven is heaven.” But perhaps that is a reflection for another post.

With heart forward,

Kim

​Kim is a Certified Spiritual Director. She has been practicing for the past two years with The Dominican Center at Marywood. Spiritual direction is a path for growing in awareness. As one begins to notice authentic movement in one's life, discerning a response to this movement becomes possible. Kim finds joy in creating a compassionate space where directee and director discover together the opening toward clarity, love and transformation. Kim is currently training for her RYT 200 certification with From the Heart Yoga and Tai Chi Center. Yoga has been a constant companion and teacher to her for the past five years.  The mat is like a mirror, always reflecting back the struggle or celebration that is within. Yoga provides a way to meet the Self, a space to hold the truth gently and a platform from which to step forward.

WHAT IS YOGA?

The first time I practiced yoga I was scared. 

Not that I wouldn’t be able to do the poses, although the thought did enter my mind. Not that I wouldn’t understand the teacher or the rather certain possibility I’d collapse embarrassingly mid-class, although these concerns hovered nearby. 

None of these held up to my spiritual fear. I was scared because the religious system in which I was raised had conditioned me to be afraid of most things outside of the system. 

Hippies, hell, emotions and desires, punishment, failure, perfection, imperfection, wrath, “pagan” religions and people, strong women, questions, doubts, tardiness, sin, being too happy, being too sad. 

The list was long. 

Some of it was subtle, some quite blatant, none of it directly intentional I don’t think. Even still, fear was the foundation of my faith. 

[Note: I speak of fear here as it applies to a common held posture towards yoga but want to be sure it is understood that I received many beautiful gifts from this religious tradition as well. One of them being the notion of resurrection. The understanding that no matter how difficult life may seem, light will emerge. Transformation patiently waits.] 

So there I was, on my mat, afraid of eternal damnation. Convinced more likely than not I’d be struck down on the spot. 

But for some reason I didn’t run, although I did send out desperate internal prayers. I remained anchored in place, certain that beyond the fear something was waiting. 

What blossomed from that point was the beginning of a journey. One swollen with hope, faith, beauty, gratitude, challenge, forgiveness, grief, peace and the embrace of infinite love. 

Over time something began to unfold. A picture emerged, one that seamlessly brought together the person I claimed to follow with the practices and philosophies that cultivated understanding and revelation. I quickly realized I had to give up nothing in order to embrace yoga. I simply had to extend my arms wide. 

Slowly I recaptured an innocent belief I carried within me, planted in childhood - that Holy is everywhere, Divine in all things. 

With this came an immense freedom to fully experience life. All of it. The beauty, the pain, the different and uncomfortable. I was given permission to dive headfirst into curiosity while provided boundaries to keep me connected to this place of unalterable grace and peace. I call it soul peace. 

It’s through this experience, and all the ones leading to this point, that I offer this:  a holistic picture of yoga. 

If you’re curious about yoga but hesitant, wonder if you’ve been misinformed, or find yourself in a similar place as I was - fearful but drawn - my hope is that the information found here offers you a foundation from which to move forward. Know that fear does not necessarily mean something is bad or wrong. We all have our biases whether we choose to acknowledge them or not. Part of our work is to recognize those biases or fears accumulated through experience or passed on to us in childhood and ask: “Does what I’m fearful of have the possibility of making me a more loving, kind, compassionate human being?” / “Can I see that change in those around me?” / “Is this my fear or one I’ve been given to carry?” / “Whose voice is this?” / “Am I afraid because it’s different?” / “Have I been allowed to be curious?”

In Sanskrit, the ancient language of India, there is this word “Namaste”. Namaste has a number of similar translation variations all essentially meaning “The Light in me sees and honors the Light in you.” It’s a beautiful way of acknowledging the sacred, beauty, goodness and Divine in each of us. At its most basic it is a way of acknowledging a universal equality and peace. 

Namaste, friends.

[WHAT IS YOGA?]

Yoga, from the root word “yuj” [pronounced “yug”], means to yoke, to bind, or be in union with the sacred [or God if that is familiar to you]. Similarly, the Hebrew scriptures use the word “yada” which is translated as “to be intimately joined to the sacred”. 

Yoga is a system or philosophy, not of beliefs, but of disciplines and guidance for enriched living that began in India an estimated 5,000 years ago. It offers a universal framework for spiritual growth and techniques for quieting cravings of the body and chatter of the mind. 

Yoga is best understood as a compliment to any religion rather than a religion itself as the practice of yogic living aids in deepening whatever healthy religious beliefs may already be held and encourages the release of those that are not. I liken it to a hand extended - one that connects the practices, rituals and beliefs you hold dear - and draws you further into a depth of understanding. For example, the Eight Limbs of Yoga, created from the Yoga Sutras [see next paragraph for explanation], can aid in a further understanding of both the Ten Commandments and Beatitudes as these essential disciplines or codes of ethics include non-violence [ahimsa], truthfulness [satya], contentment [santosha], and self-study [swadhyaya]. While the commandments provide concrete boundaries the Eight Limbs of Yoga and Yoga Sutras offer insight into the why and how. In this way, the goal of yoga is not conversion to any one religion but expanded awareness and vibrant wellbeing, ultimately connecting us to the common goodness [Divine or God] that resides within. 

The Yoga Sutras, considered the classical text of yoga, were written around 200 BC by Patajanli who was revered as a great prophet in the yogic tradition. The Sutras are thought to hold the essence of yoga compiled into written form. The Eight Limbs of Yoga are based on the second chapter of the Yoga Sutras and offer tools to build character through discipline in order to gain an expanded awareness and ultimately cultivate wisdom both personally as well as communally.

Asana, the physical practice of posture or position, is a facet [or limb] of yoga. There is great emphasis on connecting the mind, body, breath and spirit [soul or heart]. The practice of yoga asana has been embraced in the West as a form of exercise but was originally intended to open, release or prepare the body and mind for meditation as well as build discipline and commitment in one's life. 

Meditation [also a facet or limb of yoga] is “single-pointed focus” and occurs when the mind sustains extended attention on whatever single-point it is focusing on. That being said, you can’t “do” meditation rather it is a state of being that happens to you. Meditation takes discipline, persistence and great patience. The meditator’s role is to set up the conditions necessary for meditation and then surrender to whatever state of being may arise. Meditation is such a state of focus on one point, idea, thing or presence that the barriers between the point of focus and meditator dissolve and there remains no difference between the two. In other words, the meditator merges completely with the point of focus. The Bible talks about this when it speaks of meditating without ceasing. Ultimately, the aim is to become one with God and then live out of this union. 

Meditation and mindfulness are often used interchangeably even though there are distinct differences. Mindfulness is the practice of living in the present moment with awareness, attuned to all of the physical sensations that arise. It cultivates a “be here now” mentality. I like to think of mindfulness as a stepping stone towards meditation. 

Frequently, Pranayama or breath control, is used to aid or invite a meditative state. “Prana” is life force energy and “Ayama” means extension or expansion. Thus pranayama is to extend or expand our life force energy. The life force energy that resides within us is directly related to our breath. Because there is such a strong relationship between the two we can effect the movement of this life force energy by regulating our breath in specific ways. A very basic example of this is by drawing the breath into your middle back and allowing the oxygen to expand there, you multiply the life energy within your lungs. Gentle repetition of this action can increase the oxygen in your body which affects alertness and clarity of mind. There are a variety of pranayama techniques, each designed to have a specific effect and ranging from basic to very advanced. That being said, pranayama is powerful and shouldn’t be practiced in ignorance and without an experienced guide. 

[WHY THE FEAR THEN?]

There is a common-held belief in some religious systems that in practicing yoga you engage in worship of Buddha or Hindu gods. I think this misunderstanding arises for a few reasons. 

First, there is the assumption that Yoga is synonymous with Hinduism or Buddhism. The earliest yogi-like pictograph is thought to date around 3000 BC and is linked to the Indus Valley civilization. Hinduism is thought to have been formally recognized around 2000 BC and Buddhism much later, 563 BC. The Hindu scriptures [or Vedas] include the word “yoga” but refrain from expanding on a particular practice. As is true of history, era builds upon era and beliefs and systems either evolve or are left behind. All religions and spiritual practices are a product [whether reactionary or growth] of this movement in time and all are connected by history. The people of India have protected the tradition of yoga within their heritage but do not hold it with tight-fisted ownership. They have guarded it as sacred thru the generations and generously gift it to us all. 

Secondly, us Westerners can be quick to package up all things Eastern in one big box. Many of us are familiar with the Moses-Aaron-Golden Calf story [we’ve seen the movie] and shudder at any mention of idol. So the many gods of Hinduism [and the various sized statues of said gods] make us, to put it mildly, nervous. Here’s the thing - Hinduism fairly quickly evolved from a belief in many gods to an understanding of one God. One creative force or energy behind all we experience as reality. The multiple gods are various representations or imagery of the limitless characteristics of this one God. For example, Ganesha [the representation of wisdom, strength, and the remover of obstacles] is a symbolic image of the aspect of God that makes way for expansion and growth. It's easy to agree that the infinite nature of God is hard to grasp with a human mind and every culture, tradition and religion has created ways to better understand the complex mystery of the Divine. It's important to note that our misunderstanding of yoga may be directly connected to our misunderstanding of the Hindu faith, Buddhist tradition, and Eastern culture as a whole. Eastern thought is much less literal and far more metaphorical than Western thought. Thus, it is easy for misinterpretation to arise and take root. 

Third is quite basic. Fear keeps us in. I’m not talking about bear-chasing-you-run-for-your-life-fear. I’m talking about the sort of fear that keeps us from growing, discovering, and curiosity. The fear that keeps us tamed - fenced and controllable. Fear is powerful, especially when used on people already frightened. Often we don’t even know what we’re scared of, we’re just told to be afraid. I’ve found yoga to be wonderfully inclusive and when something is built on exclusivity, inclusive is a threat. So fear is quickly employed. With fear comes manipulation [even if unintended], bias and the stretching of fact to fit and further the fear. It’s not a far leap to say we are a relatively anxious culture. Fear finds solace in sameness and is aggravated by different. When threatened, we tend to long for “home” - for something we understand. And so, as our culture tries to navigate this place of fear, many of us are desperately fleeing different and unknown for same and comfortable. 

One of the invitations of yoga is the shedding of fear. When we lose the baggage, the voices, the weight we’re able to see with clarity, wisdom, and openness. But it takes courage. It takes a step away from same and towards different. This was demanded of every saint and every historical figure we admire. Each had a choice - build a wall or step into. Step toward. 

[WHAT’S WITH THE CHANTING?]

Sanskrit is thought to be the oldest known language, linked to roughly 4000 BC but some argue it dates much older. The Sanskrit language was created to systematically follow the natural progression of sound in the human mouth and, from a spiritual perspective, each sound represents a different aspect of creation. 

Mantras were then created from these sounds. Just as a certain musical cord or song can illicit an emotional response, mantras were specifically designed to cultivate a state of being [ex. peace of mind or harmony]. As with every sound, there is a specific vibratory rhythm connected. If you hum “mmmmm”, for example, you’ll be able to sense these vibrations. Therefore, mantras provide a vibratory rhythm for the mind to become absorbed in - allowing for a stilling or calming of the mental chatter we so often endure. Ultimately, mantra is hearing with your whole body. 

Chanting is the repetition of these mantras, although not restricted to the Sanskrit mantras. The point of chanting is to use the energy the vibrations of sound awaken in the body to generate a meditative mind. My experience with chanting is this: I quickly found comfort and ease on my yoga mat but chanting was something that continued to plague me with nervousness well into my yoga teacher training. One of the most beautiful gifts my teachers gave me was permission to go at my own pace and refrain as needed. It was a true testament to the heart of yoga - a tradition devoid of pressure and full of compassion. A tradition that urges the practitioner to find and listen to their voice within, acknowledge the fear and discomfort, and proceed when ready. As I began to understand the history of Sanskrit and reasons for chanting, I tiptoed forward working hard to keep an open heart and mind. Starting with OM I tested the waters. For awhile I was content to listen rather than participate. Over time, in the same way communal singing brings a sense of harmony, chanting cultivated in me a sense of community and peace. Whether it’s Sanskrit mantras, biblical scripture, sutras, quotes, poems or prayers - the continual repetition of meaningful, intentional, powerful words and sounds now envelope me like a Divine embrace. 

“OM” [pronounced “Aauumm”] is the sound thought to hold and represent the universe - past, present, future and all that is beyond the constraints of time. It is considered the most sacred syllable in yoga and is universal in nature. When in deep meditation, some have said to hear the word “OM” reverberate within their being. In yoga, OM is sometimes used as a way of bringing together our communal voice of peace. Participation is always optional. 

I've found yoga to be a tradition full of beautiful paradox. It’s relaxed, yet disciplined. Demands effort, invites ease. Encases the serious within a playful cloak. It breaks down walls and barriers, all-the-while building an infinite house. Yoga encourages us to show up with our whole selves - the goofy, weird, sad, angry, happy, hurt that lies within us all. It invites us to embrace what’s there and then sift. Like sand moving through a fine mesh strainer, the work of our yoga mat, meditation cushion, and the disciplines we uphold are there to clear out what causes us to stumble through life. We’re asked to release what keeps us imprisoned and entrenched, fully surrender to the process of refinement, and urged toward a place of greater understanding, humility and compassion. 

Yoga encourages us in a life of curiosity. It illumines our perceived edges and dissolves theses boundaries so we can experience more - more of the physical posture or pose, more of meditation, more of our self, more of life, more of God. The other day I entered into a standing forward fold just prior to a class. It's the posture where you stand with your feet together or with a little space between the two and extend your chest forward as you fold down towards the floor. So often the backs of my legs begin to scream about midway down. I breathe into the discomfort but succumb to the belief that this must be my edge - the point at which I stop and hold. Through the discipline of practicing yoga, I've learned that if I release the first boundary I come to [usually mental disguised as physical], I incrementally go deeper into the pose. What awaits is this overwhelming combination of fear and peace. If I surrender my fear and trust peace to wash away the debris I can actually find my edge - the point at which my body wisdom asks me to stop. Yoga does this - it clears the clatter of the mind so we hear the voice of the soul.   

Of course there is much left unsaid here as it takes years, a lifetime really, to grasp this deep tradition. That’s the beauty of yoga. There is no end point. No goal. Only the desire for greater connection to and love for ourselves, our planet, our fellow inhabitants, and the beautiful Infinite within it all [you may know this as God]. 

It’s the journey that’s important. The journey that’s the gift. Settle in, release the goal. Release the expectations and destinations. That’s the essence of yoga and of resurrection really. You have to die many times over to your goals, expectations, desires, pride, fears and with humility accept the grace that has always been. In the surrender, peace awaits. 

May you release fear and embrace understanding. 

May you step towards what is different. 

May you have courage to be curious. 

May you ask, seek, knock. 

Grace and beauty.

Hope and love.

Peace.

Peace. 

SOURCES:

My experience with yoga and the information presented here continues to be influenced by the teachings, writings and work of Lori Gaspar, Viki Distin, Tias Little, Nicolai Bachman, Ellen McKenzie, Ali Modell, Paramahansa Yogananda, John Philip Newell, Thomas Merton, and Danna Faulds along with a host of others not mentioned here.

Photo Credit: earlbrown.info

KEEPING WARM + APPLE CRISP

Tis the week of Thanksgiving and I've found myself a bit flustered. Normally the weather kicks me into holiday mode but this season I find myself completely tricked. Not that I'm complaining. Some extra days of warm air and outdoor fun sans heavy snow gear is aways a treat. But the shocking twist in temperatures has my body freaking out a bit.

As the thermometer drops, our bodies tend to curl inward and tighten. Pay attention and you may notice a more pronounced hunkering over - you're body's desperate attempt to keep warm on the inside. Your may become less flexible, more stiff with increased soreness, and really dry. Don't get mad - your body is doing what it's supposed to. Protecting your precious insides.

But there are ways to settle the body and care for it well amidst what can be a pretty tough seasonal transition.

Twists and circular movements in yoga help soften the body and lubricate our joints. Opening in gentle backbends counteracts the tendency to curl forward. Meditation aids the settling of our mind, especially when tucked within busy schedules, parties, and school activities.

Herbs and spices like ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, pepper, garlic, rosemary, sage, and nutmeg are all excellent at maintaining and providing a balanced warmth. Apples, pears, and dates help to increase moisture in the body. Cooked grains, ghee and root vegetables give substance and nourishment. It's the season for soups and stews, dal and kitchari, risotto and crisp.

Hydration is really important. Warm or room temperature water is ideal, especially with a small piece of ginger and some lemon juice.

Know that cold doesn't have to be miserable. It just asks us to shift our routines with the seasons. We so naturally change over our closets - trading sandals and shorts for boots, scarves, and fleece-lined leggings. Why not trust the same instinctual desire when it comes to how we care for our bodies?










[THE RECIPE]

8 - 10 apples, peeled and cut into thin chunks or slices
1 - 2 cups apple cider or juice
3 teaspoons ground cinnamon
2 cups gluten-free old-fashioned oats
1 1/2 cups gluten free oat flour [ground fresh if possible]
1/2 cup coconut sugar
1/2 teapsoon sea salt
3/4 cup ghee or coconut oil [for vegan]
3/4 cup maple syrup

Spread out prepared apples in a 9 x 13 glass baking dish. Toss with 1 1/2 teaspoons of cinnamon. Pour in apple cider or juice so that there is about an inch of liquid along the bottom. Add more if necessary. Set aside.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a large mixing bowl combine oats, oat flour, sugar, salt and remaining 1 1/2 teaspoons of cinnamon. Warm ghee or oil and syrup in a small saucepan over low heat until completely melted. Pour warmed liquid over oat mixture and stir until oats are completely covered. The consistency should be moist but not wet and fairly crumbly. Add more oil-syrup mixture or oats as needed.

Spread the oat topping evenly over the prepared apples. Loosely cover the dish with aluminum foil and bake until liquid is bubbling, approximately 45 minutes. At this point, remove the foil and bake an additional 15 minutes or until the oat topping just begins to brown in spots.

Remove from oven and let sit for at least 20 minutes. Serve warm or cool.

PEACE IS A COURAGEOUS ACT

There's a place in our house that I return to over and over again when life seems overwhelming. When the events of the world or the space within the walls in which we live are just too much for me to bear. This particular room is small, dark unless intentionally illuminated, and quiet. I generally find myself curled up on the floor, forehead pressed firmly into the carpet beneath. This is the place where I cry out to the benevolent God I so often can't understand. My prayers come out as cascading sobs, angry release, and desperate pleas which all seem to culminate in a stillness so still it seems irreverent to breathe.

More and more of the world is being lit with holy places for me. The more I seek, the more I'm able to find thin spaces. Places where heaven and earth settle into this divine dance so subtle it's easy to miss yet so immeasurably powerful it's life changing. In these holy expanses or momentary pauses in time, the beauty is almost too forceful for my body to hold. I begin to understand what it means to collapse in the presence of God.

So there's these moments.

And then there's moments that send me to my closet, stunned with fear and grief and pain.

The recent news has been riddled with a story of hate and violence and prejudice and death. It's too much to hold. Too much to carry. Too much.

And so I collapse at the feet of The Magnificent and I plead for courage and love and forgiveness. I beg for hope and for peace - for me, for you, for all. I allow the pain in - the fear, the grief. I let it do its work in me. I cry for us all but I also cry for all of those places tucked within my body and soul that harbor prejudice and hate, fear and grief unexpressed.

I let it out.

Because if I don't let out these malevolent thoughts and feelings, they grow. Subtly over time they expand and push and begin to take over. They begin to color the way in which I see the world and people. And then one day a small, seemingly insignificant thing flips the switch and unleashes a furious storm.

But I let it out. I say all the vicious, cruel things I hold inside. I admit my fears and angers and observed injustice. I yell and scream and rant and cry. I release it all. Every last thing within me and then I collapse into the arms of Grace. Into the protective lap of The One who created me and calls me tov, good.

I let peace wash over me, compassion fill me. And then I get up, wipe my nose and eyes, drink some water and open the door.

I let the light in and then I go out.

This is my act of peace. This is my response to that which I can't control and understand.

Grace. Hope. Peace. Love. Compassion. Courage. Forgiveness. Surrender.

These are the weapons I choose.

Rather than responding to fear and violence with fear and violence, I work to accept them as teachers. As instruments that can tear me open, refine and remold me, and stitch me back up again - stronger, deeper, more whole. And then I turn all this energy towards healing and peace-making, using the unique gifts I've been given.

I paint. I meditate and practice yoga. I teach. I write. I raise my kids to bring sunshine and beauty to the world with determination and endurance. I cook. I look into the eyes of the people I meet and I smile. I get my hands dirty with the goodness of earth. I paddle board and swim and play games. I laugh and cry and celebrate this breath right now. I show up in the lives of those I care for most in the ways I'm able. I walk in the grass and water and sand. I snuggle and read to my girls. I enjoy time with my husband. I eat outside and dance in the rain. I swing and watch the clouds.

I do whatever I can to cultivate peace in me, hoping it flows out to those around. And then I surrender to The One, the ultimate provider of peace.

May you find a space to call holy. A space where you find yourself face down, confronting the depths of your being. And may you have the courage to go in. To go in, get messy, do the uncomfortable and painful work necessary to release and to grow.

And may you emerge alight with the power of peace.

Namaste*, friends.

*Namaste means the Light in me sees and honors the Light in you.

BOTTLES AND BUSHES

Today I walked out the door and headed down the driveway. Down the hill, around the corner, past the barn, up the hill, down the hill, to the fence. Pause. Take out the plug, open the gate, secure the gate, walk along the fence out to the pasture.

This, or something very similar, has been my routine for a little while now. Bottle in hand, I head into the tall grasses, a hungry orphan lamb waiting for its sunrise meal.

Something caught my eye this morning. As I pulled on my boots and meandered out the garage, I found the fields aflame with glory, weighted down with splendor. Yesterday had been a particularly fall-like spring day. You know the type - cool, windy with a certain kind of cloud. The type that could release a down pour on a whim but generally chooses not to. With that as my backdrop, this morning was a bit shocking in contrast - clear blue sky, gentle breeze, bright sun, heavy dew.

Dew.

There is something magical about dew. Poems and essays and books are devoted to revelations and meditations found within these tiny droplets of water.

As I stood out there frozen in wonder, no revelations came. It was if my mind could think only this: "Stop! Watch! Feel! Enjoy!" The more I leaned in close, observed water resting so tenderly on grass, the more my being swelled with joy, connection, purpose, peace - a rootedness that anchored me here, in this moment, to myself and to all.

This morning I went to church.  

I walked away carefully, not wanting to disturb this communion of saints. Every few steps I paused, desperate not to leave the grace of it all.

As I slowly made my way back up the hill, down the hill, past the barn, around the corner, and back up the hill I couldn't help but look over my shoulder. Here's the thing - there had been heavy dew and bright sunny mornings a number of times over the last few weeks. These same fields had been aflame with glory and I walked right by. Holy had been right there all along, yet I did not see it.

And then today I did.

That's the mystery of this life - we go about our days in a normal sort of way and then one day we see that the bush we'd passed countless of times had been burning. On fire with majesty all along, begging "Stop! Watch! Feel! Enjoy!"

And so we do and we are changed.

Grace. Beauty. Peace.

WHAT'S YOUR NAME?

This morning I went paddle boarding. Carrying my board along the path from our house to the water, carefully setting it down to float, stepping onto it's wide body, and pushing off away from the land has become a very spiritual practice for me. When I'm on my board life slows way, way down. The sound of the paddle dipping into the water is a lullaby for my soul. May awareness shifts from anxious thoughts and plans and lists to a place of right here, right now - being in this space of explosive life and meditative stillness.

Today, for whatever reason, I was shaken with the many creatures that call this small body of water home. As I watched the fish swim about, dashing from surprisingly shallow waters and into the deep, I was overcome by this sense of wanting to know their names. All of a sudden it was really, really important to acknowledge who they are.

The other day my daughters were dancing around in princess dresses singing about how beautiful they look. I watched on with expectation. I knew within moments my husband would come around the corner, lift them onto his lap, and ask them what their names mean.

"Sunshine." my eldest replied with a smile. "FLOWER!" yelled out my youngest. My husband nodded in agreement and then told each of them that they were created to bring warmth and kindness and beauty and compassion and color and light to this world. That there is far more to beauty than a dress or sparkles or shoes, although those are fun to explore. That what makes them beautiful is how they respond to injustice and hurt and fear. That their beauty goes far deeper than their skin. It begins in their hearts.

Naming things is an ancient art, one that has grown up with civilization. From our earliest roots, there's been something within us aching to know our name. Needing to understand our place and figure out where we fit in this great expanse of life.

As I paddled around the pond, guiding my board gently along side the reeds, I was aware that everything around me had a name, and with it's name came a place in this world.

I'm learning the more I observe, the deeper I walk into a place where it all matters. Everything has meaning. Watching fish has led me to acknowledge they have a name and existence as important as my own. Watching people has led me to believe we are not all that different. That we each have a name and a light within us and, at the very core, we all want to be seen, to matter, to find our place in the world.

As the wind picked up and rippled away my view, I looked off to the side and found a nest hovering precariously over the water. In it were 4 tiny eggs, white with brown spots. The mama bird hovered nearby, anxiously waiting my decision. Would I watch on quietly or choose to imprint on her life in an unkind way? Would I see first our commonality or respond with carelessness and apathy? Would I live into the meaning of my own name? River. Flowing water, bringing life.

I took one last glance, lifted my paddle, and thought to myself "You are important and good and kind and have a name.You have a place in this life and mine and it's my honor to see you."