I love the phrase, "Back In the Day," because it both immediately implies that in the current day, there is nothing close to the activities that were held "back in the day," and it also implies that somehow, those activities "back in the day" were superior to, truer than, or better than the activities today.
What an interesting philosophy we all seem to share.
As we experience freedom in our earlier years (teens, twenties and thirties), we think that we're doing something that has never been done before, we're on the cutting edge, we're creating something so brand new that in the future, they'll look to us and marvel. As we begin to approach forty, however, most of the time, the folks in their teens and early twenties aren't even aware of what we were doing "back in the day." And so, unless we have someone to blather on and on about how our years were precious, we seclude ourselves from the current stream of inspiration and claim that our days, back in the day, were much better than what these young folks are experiencing right now, to-day!
Of course, having this kind of attitude is complete nonsense. Without yesterday, there would be no today. Without today, there will be no tomorrow. Time moves on, unaware of our emotions. Every day, eventually becomes "back in the day."
The real kernel of truth lies in this moment, in the right now. Whenever I find myself living back in the day, I must remind myself to live again, to stop being a dead soul, chasing past experience, trying to capture an emotional resonance that long passed."
Why give away this gift of the present moment? In doing so, I give away my power. I give the energy of this moment to someone else.
And therein, my resolve: to not live "back in the day," to seek pleasure today, to seek joy, truth, love, and freedom in every moment.
The hard part? Reminding myself of this when I'm feeling sullen.
The easy part? To remember it when I'm feeling good.
Case in Point: This morming.
2:38am. My daughter wakes up and I crawl into bed with her. Though we both fall back asleep, I am tired, and she wakes up again at 6am to nurse. I'm tired, exhausted, and wish that I had more sleep. I was feeling kinda emotionally crappy, as well. I was dangerously close to falling down the rabbit hole of "back in the day" self-pity.
Luckily, my parents were in town and one of my mentors, Shiva Rea, was teaching two classes. I had told her I could assist one and would like to take the other.
My gift? When I arrived, there were more than enough assistants, and I got to take a class and then leave and come home. Wow, what a gift of Time.
The class was perfect: a juicy, rasa-filled flow. Enough to get me saturated, but not one of those hard-core classes that dries out me out. Enough energy to wake me up, but keep me at peace.
A perfect class on a perfectly rainy day.
I love yoga.
I seek pleasure in yoga.
And I hope to share that with my students.
That is the flow of life, isn't it?
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Variety and the Search for Truth
I am an easily influenced being when it comes to joy. I am a joy-sponge. If I am around other people feeling joyful, I will draw in their energy, absorb it, add my own and give it back to others.
That's why I love taking hot, sweaty yoga classes in a large group. When you're in a large group of people and everyone's is sweating, releasing toxins, drawing in positive energy from the breath, it is contagious. Add to that teachers who infuse an element of humor or music, and the class level is amped another notch. Finish off the experience with a personal asana breakthrough, and I leave amped on a huge yoga high.
Ahhh..ain't nothin' like it.
My problem, if it is even a problem, is that I can't just stick to one style of yoga, one teacher, or even one discipline. I love immersing myself into three to four weeks of ballet at a time, taking one to two classes per week (a lot for a mom.) I'll then find myself drawn to all different types of yoga classes: from hardcore vinyasa flow, with tons of handstands and arm balances; to a juicy, alignment-filled, heart opening Anusara class; to a fun, self-reflective, juicy Prana Flow class, to a classic Anthony class, and on, and on.
My yoga sponge always seems to have space for more yoga. I don't know if I'm ever going to head in one direction or if I'll always be a sponge, soaking up a little bit of teaching, here and a little bit of teaching, there. Will I ever just teach in one style?
People ask me all the time, "What kind of yoga do you teach?" I end up answering that I teach a variety of styles, dependent on the individual (or group), and what is needed. My training is in Prana Flow (vinyasa flow) and Forrest (hatha yoga), but I am currently injecting a lot of Anusara-based alignment, as well as classic Iyengar poses with props into my flow.
At times, I'm really troubled by this.
At times, it seems like the most natural course of action in the world.
That's why I love taking hot, sweaty yoga classes in a large group. When you're in a large group of people and everyone's is sweating, releasing toxins, drawing in positive energy from the breath, it is contagious. Add to that teachers who infuse an element of humor or music, and the class level is amped another notch. Finish off the experience with a personal asana breakthrough, and I leave amped on a huge yoga high.
Ahhh..ain't nothin' like it.
My problem, if it is even a problem, is that I can't just stick to one style of yoga, one teacher, or even one discipline. I love immersing myself into three to four weeks of ballet at a time, taking one to two classes per week (a lot for a mom.) I'll then find myself drawn to all different types of yoga classes: from hardcore vinyasa flow, with tons of handstands and arm balances; to a juicy, alignment-filled, heart opening Anusara class; to a fun, self-reflective, juicy Prana Flow class, to a classic Anthony class, and on, and on.
My yoga sponge always seems to have space for more yoga. I don't know if I'm ever going to head in one direction or if I'll always be a sponge, soaking up a little bit of teaching, here and a little bit of teaching, there. Will I ever just teach in one style?
People ask me all the time, "What kind of yoga do you teach?" I end up answering that I teach a variety of styles, dependent on the individual (or group), and what is needed. My training is in Prana Flow (vinyasa flow) and Forrest (hatha yoga), but I am currently injecting a lot of Anusara-based alignment, as well as classic Iyengar poses with props into my flow.
At times, I'm really troubled by this.
At times, it seems like the most natural course of action in the world.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Moon Magic: Anais Niin, Blogs and Babies
When I was in college, I fell in love with Anais Nin. I read all her diarys, devouring every one like nectar off a spring blossom. What passion, what romance, what darkness lay on every page. Her diaries were written in the manner of someone who knows that her words are going to be read one day. And so, I began to write diary entries. I wrote of my bizarrely fucked-up first "serious" relationship (who doesn't have one of these in their lives?) I wrote of my new Euro party friends, the raves we went to and the music we listened to.
As I wrote my daily dairy entries, I wondered if my words might be read by someone else one day: I was affected by this thought. In the process of writing, I edited as I wrote. In doing so, I edited my life.Sure, I wrote the truth; but, in hindsight, what is truth, really, but one person's account of the past?
We've all seen Rashomon, right? (If you haven't, rent it, now.)
Funny enough, here I am, 15 years later. I no longer have to worry if someone will read these words. One day, someone, somewhere, will.
Ahhh, deep exhale. How bizarrely freeing that feels.
Honesty without the illusion of complete truth.
In addressing the audience, in acknowledging you, dear readers, the blogger becomes not a diarist, but an actor, performing selected bits from her life and sharing them with an unknown, unseen, but certainly not omniscient third party.
Welcome to my diary-life. I'm a fun, wacky person who probably comes across as incredibly thoughtful and sometimes serious. I am all these things. I'm also a yoga teacher, writer, mom, cook, wife, lover of animals and the ocean, story-teller, editor, and much more.
Right now, my 19 month old daughter is asleep and I have to wake her up. If I don't, I'll be screwed with her evening sleep time, and I want her to sleep before 10pm, if possible. I've also got to find out if my hubby is coming home for dinner.
As I wrote my daily dairy entries, I wondered if my words might be read by someone else one day: I was affected by this thought. In the process of writing, I edited as I wrote. In doing so, I edited my life.Sure, I wrote the truth; but, in hindsight, what is truth, really, but one person's account of the past?
We've all seen Rashomon, right? (If you haven't, rent it, now.)
Funny enough, here I am, 15 years later. I no longer have to worry if someone will read these words. One day, someone, somewhere, will.
Ahhh, deep exhale. How bizarrely freeing that feels.
Honesty without the illusion of complete truth.
In addressing the audience, in acknowledging you, dear readers, the blogger becomes not a diarist, but an actor, performing selected bits from her life and sharing them with an unknown, unseen, but certainly not omniscient third party.
Welcome to my diary-life. I'm a fun, wacky person who probably comes across as incredibly thoughtful and sometimes serious. I am all these things. I'm also a yoga teacher, writer, mom, cook, wife, lover of animals and the ocean, story-teller, editor, and much more.
Right now, my 19 month old daughter is asleep and I have to wake her up. If I don't, I'll be screwed with her evening sleep time, and I want her to sleep before 10pm, if possible. I've also got to find out if my hubby is coming home for dinner.
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