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

FOOD, NOSTALGIA, AND ONE STEP

Last night I had dinner with some of my favorite women and as always our conversation turned to
food. We talked about recipes, blogging, and then dropped into pizza. For a while.

Pause.

Confession, I don't like pizza. I never really have.

WHAT THE?!

I am consistently amazed by the response when people learn this fun fact about me. It happens every time. Shock. Disbelief. Near rejection.

But for whatever reason, my taste buds have never been tempted by cheezy pie dripping with tomato-y sauce.

In a desperate attempt to reel myself back into the "we can be friends" box I'd just catapulted out of, I racked my brain for some other mouth-watering, pre-food allergy, "still don't care, I'd eat it anyway" food.

I couldn't come up with anything.

Not one thing came to mind.

For the remainder of the evening I sat troubled with why there wasn't a food in my past I still longed for - a nostalgic reminder of what was.

Here's what I came to realize: my history with food, my memories and longings, have been papered over with diets, information, the shoulds and shouldn'ts, loathing, denial, anxiety and restraint. I'd never really loved food. In fact, food was something to be controlled, ordered, categorized, binged, ignored, too important or not important at all.

Prior to a few years ago, I'd never known what it was to savor, to enjoy, to revel in the tastes exploding in my mouth. To say a sincere thank you to the nutrients that would nourish my body and the hands that had tended them.

I was completely disconnected from this vital source of life.

And then I was forced to acknowledge it. My body and mind and soul found itself in crisis and I had to take a good look at this friendship with food I'd so disastrously neglected.

I began to pay attention. To ask my body how it felt. To watch and observe and slow down. I started to connect emotion with physical sensations, quality with health, and stillness with wholeness. Rather than falling haphazardly into my next meal [or skipping it completely], I slowly and intentionally began to build space into my day and week to plan and to cook. I planted a garden and learned what it meant to eat seasonally. I practiced yoga, restoring the connection between my mind and my body. I started sitting down to eat. I learned what I liked, I mean really truly liked, and I made it.

I entered into the dance, re-writing my perception of healthy and whole. 

It took time, effort, an increased portion of our budget, and the willingness to experiment and fail.

Last night I realized something else: I'm so grateful for the journey I've been on. So deeply thankful that I've come from there to here, on my way to somewhere, that I can't help but dig into what I have now. The plate in front of me, heavy with good food and immense growth.

I look back now only to say thank you.

Maybe you've been where I was. Maybe you're there now. My invitation to you is to take one step, one step towards opening yourself to a redemptive conversation with food. Maybe you stroll the farmer's market and ask some questions. Maybe you put the diet books away. Maybe you call someone and ask for help. Perhaps you sit at the table, one local strawberry on your plate, and bite in. You chew slowly, close your eyes, and observe what it really tastes like.

There are a host of beginnings, it just takes one.

This morning the question still plagued me. Was there not one food, just one!, from my childhood that still caught my attention?

Potato skins. Twice baked potato skins packed with colby jack cheese, drowned in sour cream.

Our friendship lives on.

Photo Credit: My husband's homemade pizza.

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.

CARDAMOM LATTE with ginger, vanilla bean, and reishi

There are times when I'm called to the kitchen less for the creativity of it but more out of a primal desire for something my body desperately needs in that moment. Not in a surface "I'm craving sugar but that's probably covering up a deeper need" sort of way.

This desire is deep and earthy - flowing from a bodily wisdom I have yet to fully understand.

Over time I've learned to pay close attention to this call and surrender to the part of me governed by ancient wisdom. It's been interesting within the context of recipe creation. There's an undeniable inner intuition that drives what I take from the cupboard and add to the pot. In these moments, brain follows visceral.

I call it meditation.

It's less about the recipe and more about the sacred within the daily. It's not unlike waking on a cool summer morning to the sparkle of sunrise wrapped in a dance with mist on the calm of the water outside my window. The world is alive with enchantment and possibility within the dew and earth and air.

It's tangible, physical, earthy magic.

Sometimes I have the wherewithal to write down what my hands are doing. This is one such time and I'm so excited to share it with you. Move slow, feel what your body is doing while you create. Lean over the pot and take in the changing aroma. Feel the steam on your face. Notice what this does in your body. If you have the sudden urge to add something, do it! Follow this beautiful intelligence we each have within the muscle and bone and blood and organs of our body.

Sip mindfully, with loving intention, and smile. Invite a little magic.

Medicinal Note: If you're familiar with Ayurvedic medicine, this tea is excellent for balancing vata and kapha dosha types. It's grounding and gently warming; acts on the spleen, lung, stomach, and large intestine; improves the circulation of chi [life force]; and works to dispel mucus, cold, dampness, and phelgm. The recipe came to me on a very windy, cool spring [vata aggravating] day. Cardamom is such a wonderful whole-body tonic. In addition, reishi mushroom is fantastic for boosting the immune system.


[THE RECIPE]
Serves 3

Note: all herbs dried and cut or whole.

6 c. water
4 T. whole cardamom pods
2 T. fennel seed [optional]
2 tsp. cut ginger
1 whole vanilla bean, cut in half [reserve other half for use at another time]
1 slice reishi mushroom
3 c. tigernut milk or milk of choice
2 - 3 T. pure, raw honey [to taste, orange blossom honey is wonderful]

In a medium size saucepan combine water, cardamom, fennel, ginger, half the vanilla bean, and reishi mushroom. Bring to boil over high heat. Once boiling, reduce heat to to simmer and cook for 30 minutes or until liquid is reduced to half [approximately 3 cups].

Meanwhile, place milk and honey in a small saucepan. Heat on low until milk is very warm but not boiling, stirring occasionally.

Pour reduced tea through fine mesh strainer into three large mugs [approximately 1 cup of tea in each mug]. Divide the warmed milk between the mugs [approximately 1 cup of milk in each mug].

Serve immediately or store in refrigerator for 24 - 48 hours to serve at a later time.

These herbs aren't necessarily inexpensive so you can reserve the cooked herbs to use a second time. Tea will be less intense so either reduce water or add a few more herbs.

PEACE-KEEPING AND PAN-FRIED PAPRIKA SALMON with quinoa and herbs

Beirut. Burundi. Paris. And untold, unacknowledged places across the globe.

Recent events have reminded me we live in a world full of humans and we humans have a powerful opportunity with every breath we take to poke holes in our world. These pinpricks can either offer us a glance into a parallel universe filled with beauty and hope and love and compassion and eternal grace or a devastating view into death and destruction and pain and heartache and loneliness and loss.

It's crushing when the latter is chosen.

I'm convinced the only way to respond to violence is to grieve deeply and then do the work of cultivating peace in our own souls. To find beauty and worth and truth in whatever takes our days from normal to holy. To invest ourselves in that which leads us to encounter the divine. To find whatever allows us to smile more honestly, to look deeply into the eyes of a stranger and find our own stories there, to pause within the course of a day and say "thank you" - to tap into whatever this is daily and give ourselves fully to this work of peace-making.

I paint for peace.

I practice yoga for peace.

I giggle and laugh and walk in the grass and breathe with intention for peace.

These are my tangible, flesh and earth and life prayers for peace.

These are the things that allow me to look into the eyes of the person behind the counter and smile with authenticity. These are the things that give me the grace to wave at daily unkindness and see a lonely, exhausted, and hurt person instead of cruelty. To acknowledge that I've been there too, I've felt that way too, I've acted out of those places too.

I don't know how I would handle what has happened across the ocean. I hope I never have to find out. My heart breaks for those who have lost so much. Here's what I do know: I can't solve all things, especially these big, global things. But I can do the work within that brings freedom and forgiveness and peace. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.

May you find whatever fills you with joy and creativity and life, and with each moment know that when you take the time to entertain this thing you do, you are cultivating peace in this world. 







This dish is a mainstay in our house. Full of healthy fats, protein, vitamins, minerals, and beneficial bacteria, my kids and I try to get this in at least once a week. We mix up the grain and flavors, Indian-spiced rice [in lieu of quinoa], Chinese 5-spice [instead of paprika], and parsley or cilantro [rather than dill] being another favorite.  

[THE RECIPE]

Serves 2

2 wild caught Alaskan salmon fillets
1 - 2 T. ghee or pure, extra-virgin coconut oil
sea salt
sweet paprika
smoked paprika
1 c. uncooked quinoa, rinsed
2 c. water
1 c. fresh herbs like dill, parsley, cilantro
1/4 c. raw sauerkraut
1 avocado

Place uncooked quinoa in a fine mesh strainer and rinse under cold water until water runs clear. Put rinsed quinoa into a medium size sauce pan and add water and a pinch of sea salt. Cover and bring to boil over high heat. As soon as the water boils, reduce heat to low and cook covered until all of the water has been absorbed [approximately 7 - 10 minutes]. Once the water has been absorbed, remove from heat and let sit for 5 minutes.

While quinoa is cooking, drain salmon fillets and pat dry. Sprinkle each filet with a generous amount of sea salt, sweet paprika, and smoked paprika. Set aside.

Heat ghee or coconut oil in a small cast iron skillet or stainless steel pan that has a cover. Once melted, the ghee or oil should thoroughly cover the bottom of the pan. Once the ghee or oil is just beginning to sizzle, carefully place fillets skin side up in the pan. Cover immediately and let cook on medium-high heat for 3 - 5 minutes. Remove from heat and let sit, covered, for an additional minute or so. Gently remove skin if desired and discard [great for compost!].

Arrange cubed avocado, fresh herbs, sauerkraut and cooked quinoa on a plate. Place salmon on quinoa, drizzle with a little olive oil if desired, and sprinkle with sea salt.

RELEASING ROUTINE

Prior to let's say January 1, my days were defined by routine. I had my morning routines, my afternoon routines, and my evening routines. I had my food routines and bedtime routines and exercise routines. It seemed to be working really well until I began to see [and feel] the cracks. I started noticing if one of those little pieces [like not making the bed first thing in the morning] was off, I struggled with balance the rest of the day. I was living under the illusion I could somehow create perfect and then maintain it day in and day out. My life was organized and predictable and comfortable and safe and, to be honest, for the most part I really liked it that way. But those cracks in my plans began to widen and show. My body started screaming at me in ways I couldn't understand or fix on my own. My anxiety level was at an all time high and emotions on the proverbial roller coaster. I'm certain the people closest to me shouldered a good chunk of this burden, feeling the pressure to live up to my imaginary standards. What I thought was complete control was anything but and it was bleeding into every bit of my world. I started asking if maybe there was a more whole way to live - a way not racked with as many self-inflicted demands and rules.

So, of course, I hopped on my pendulum and swung in the opposite direction.

Around the coming of the new year I decided maybe it was time to try on a new look for the season. I allowed myself to sink into winter with reckless abandon [or what felt reckless to me]. What I mean is I threw out many of my routines, slept in and stayed up late, spent a lot of time cuddling in the morning with my kids, and sometimes stayed in jammies until late into the afternoon. I half-heartedly meal planned, mostly relying on last minute forages through the refrigerator, and served my kids chips with hummus and guacamole sided by some raw veggies for a good number of lunches. Sometimes we ate popcorn with dinner or watched a movie. I went to bed with the house a mess, left dishes on the counter until morning, permitted much to much screen time, and allowed the laundry to pile up to enormous proportions.

Here's what this stint in the carefree life taught me:

It's as amazing and as horrifying as it sounds. 

What I found is I wasn't truly me in either scenario. Being driven by routine robbed me of the opportunity to feel spontaneous and placed a burden on me to live up to my own contrived expectations. And that way of life was making by body, mind and soul sick.

On the other hand, a life without routine seemed horribly imbalanced to me. Without any sort of expectation it was much to easy to fall into mediocrity, sort of fumbling through the day. I felt scattered, untethered, and unprepared which zapped me of energy in a way I hadn't expected. I relished the guilt-free space to do nothing, to take naps when I was tired, to plan less and live in spontaneity a bit more. But I also found that to be the best me I needed both and I had to find a way to walk the line between rigidity and carelessness.

The problem [blessing?] is, there isn't a map on how to walk this path of balance. It's fraught with mistakes and pain and over-extending. Anxiety and fear and exhaustion and complete confusion. At the same time this road is lined with so much grace and humility, forgiveness and freedom and I've found it to be truly the only way to compassion and wisdom.

But that's the work of life isn't it? To enter into the core of who we are, set dynamite to what needs to go, dig through the rubble, rebuild where necessary, and let that self shine.

And so these days I'm re-establishing my morning routine of a little yoga and energy work to shake me from my sleep and encourage me into my day. Sometimes I make the bed and other days I don't. My kids dress themselves as part of their own creative expression and I celebrate that creativity. If we're up late I sleep in and look forward to being woken by two little bodies crawling into my bed for some morning snuggles. Other days I set my alarm and embrace the quiet hours of the early morning. I meal plan but hold it loosely, understanding that at any moment the day may interrupt these plans. We still have popcorn with dinner from time to time and I can't seem to take back the hummus + guacamole + chips for lunch, although it's enjoyed far less often. I make some lists but not as many. I try to meditate daily as my soul is so full when I do. I'm slowly learning to release perfect in an effort to be fully present [as my friend Jen will say]. My body is healing and my soul finding peace. The laundry still piles up and sits for days and I continue to struggle with when to trump work with play. But I'm fumbling through, learning as I go.

And now, on most days, life feels balanced and it's an amazing thing to sit in the freedom and strength of facing and letting go of the things I held onto most desperately.

May you be empowered to create routines where you need them and release rigidity where is necessary. May you find joy in the simple, power in the struggle, and have the courage to walk a road that may be foreign but trust the journey anyway. May you travel deeply inward in order to shine outward. 

And may you leave the bed unmade from time to time.