Dog is my guru and his name is Zeus

I walked for an hour today with my sweet companion Zeus, he is my true companion and yes, my only guru.
About 12 years ago I decided I wanted to have a child but my husband at the time was unwilling. He allowed me to get a dog instead, hoping this would placate my need to reproduce for a while. The day before "our" dog was to be delivered to us on the East Coast, my husband came into the bedroom and announced that he would be leaving. No, it wasn't a business trip or a jaunt to the market, he was packing his things and leaving for good, leaving our marriage, leaving our plans...leaving me. I was still in our bed and stared at him, "okay, bye". I mean really, what else was I going to say?! "Good morning, wanna' talk about this over a cup of joe?" Not me, not my way. Instead, I picked up a pack of cigarettes that I'd had for over a year, got back into bed and smoked them all while I stared at the ceiling until the sun had set and I could see only blackness. Out of my mental haze, I remembered that my sister would be arriving the next morning with "our" dog and wondered how I would explain Seth's absence ( yes, his name is Seth, and this is not a pseudonym to protect his identity). I quickly called my mom and told her Seth had left and then as planned, my sister arrived with a bundle of dog the next morning, no questions asked.
I named him Zeus, the god of all gods, I felt like I needed something that would protect me. He looked like a baby polar bear, a white Golden Retriever, and although he was adorable, I felt nothing. I suppose I was still in a state of shock that the life I had planned had just crumbled in a matter of minutes and here was this little 8 week old puppy that needed to be taken care of. For the next several weeks, I spent my days working, smoking, and getting out of bed solely to let Zeus out and feed him. When he was about 4 months old, I came home from work to the smell of something awful. Walking into the kitchen, I discovered a crate full of diarrhea and this once white puppy now barely recognizable, as he was covered in his own mess. I opened the crate to begin the cleaning process and he rubbed up against me, excited to have company, oblivious to the fact that I was in no mood. Great! I too was covered in diarrhea and as I scrubbed and washed and rubbed, tears started streaming down my face. I collapsed onto the floor, weeping in sorrow, covered from head to toe in poop. I couldn't do this!!! We had picked out this "baby" together and now there was no "we", just a me and I couldn't do it.  Crumpled up on the linoleum, disgusting and hopeless, I decided I didn't have the capacity to give this little guy the love or attention he needed. I cried even harder when I realized I wasn't gonna' keep him. I became hysterical, I'd failed as a wife and now I was so damaged that I couldn't even love this innocent, beautiful animal. As I lay there, I told him I was sorry, I told him he'd have to go back and find a different home with a family that could take better care of him and he stared at me; his head cocked to the side and his ears perked. I kept saying I was sorry and then with his tail wagging, he came over and began to lick my tears. I only cried harder but instead of walking away, he nuzzled closer in and put his head on my lap. "No, baby, I can't do this, I'm not a good mommy, please just go away". He wouldn't budge! I kept waiting for him to leave, to walk away disappointed, to give up on me...but he stayed right there, all night, never once leaving my side. In the morning, I called into work and took the day off to spend time with Zeus; my baby, my loyal companion, my new found love.
Its strange how life works. In a moment, our entire sense of reality can come crashing down and when we are laying there broken and hopeless, the universe provides us with exactly what we need. When Zeus arrived, I thought taking care of him was a burden but in fact, it was opposite. He gave me a reason to get out of bed every single day, to go on living and functioning and I know in my heart that his presence in my life precipitated my capacity to heal from my devastating loss. He offered me unconditional love, belly-aching laughter, and such sweet comfort when I needed it most.
As the years have passed I have tried to be as good as he is, to take the lessons he offered and not only give back to my darling companion but to share those gifts with all beings that I come upon. Indeed, I have a special love for animals, a trust and adoration that words alone cannot fully explain but I have have cultivated a sense of love and compassion for people as well that I never had before my life with Zeus. He taught me that we are all lovable even when we are at our worst; when we are immersed in our loneliest moments,we are never really alone; when we lose all hope, there is someone willing to hold it for us. But in those moments when we've fallen so far, when we are broken, unable to get up and all is lost, sometimes it is best to just surrender, stay where you are and know that what you need will somehow come to find you...and maybe lick your tears away, laying on your lap all night long.

~namaste

*** the thoughts and opinions expressed above are solely mine and are in no way a reflection of those who are more highly evolved

It's hot in here!

I teach and practice Hot Vinyasa Yoga in a room that is usually between 90° and 100° Fahrenheit. During class today I suddenly had the urge to strip off my shirt and sweatpants, wishing I had a teeny bikini to slip into. I was steaming up, dripping sweat, and I wasn't even doing yoga; I was teaching. Obviously I kept all my clothes on but as I scanned the room midway through class, I noticed there were several men with their shirts still on. Realistically, when I'm teaching (and practicing) it's important not to be a distraction to the students and I'm thinking walking around in a bikini, no matter what my body looked like, might become a tad distracting. So I dress as sensibly as I can while making comfort my second priority, yes, second only to appropriateness. Most of the students at the studio where I work dress in typical yoga wear; shirts, sports bras, pants, shorts...usually high end stuff that covers just enough but still allows them to be comfortable in the heat. Once in a while, a woman may have something a bit skimpy on, leading to an occasional areola sighting, but for the most part they wear what's needed to survive the heat and not become too much of a distraction for wandering eyes. Most of the men wear pants or long shorts with a short sleeve shirt or are bare-chested. Just like the women, they make sensible choices for clothing, except of course when the shorts are too short and a berry inadvertently falls from the bunch. Yikes! Overall we're a pretty modest group considering how hot it gets in any given class.
So today, as the sweat trickled down my face, I actually felt sad looking at all these men drenched from head to toe, tangled up in their shirts. Am I missing something here? I know it's not inappropriate for a man to do an intense physical yoga practice in a boiling hot room with his naked chest revealed! Granted, I like men, I love the male form, and honestly, I enjoy looking at men's bods. But this aside, 'cause it's not about my needs or in any way a selfish request. In all seriousness, if you do not have boobs or a weigh-in for your next pro-wrestling match, take off your damn shirt! And no, man boobs don't count, their not really boobs, they are something but they're definitely not boobs.
I have a student who'd been coming to the classes that I teach for years. At the beginning, he would wear a long sleeve shirt and spandex shorts, yeah, now that's a good look. Suppose now is as good a time as any to say it ...people talk about camel-toe not being attractive, well gentlemen, camel-tail is not any better. If you're gonna wear spandex, please don't tuck "it", and quite frankly, spandex on a man in yoga is in fact, distracting; whether "its" tucked or not. Back to Mister Long Sleeve Spandex...I don't know what happened but eventually he started showing up to class with regular shorts and it was beautiful! However, he still had the long sleeves and I noticed that even though he practiced 6 times a week for years, he had to take child's pose a lot and he would get red in the face, guzzling loads of water throughout class. I'd say about a year ago he finally shed the sleeves and let his arms out to play. Hallelujah!  His practice was definitely getting better but he was still burning up and it was effecting his ability to find new edges. After 5 years I finally approached him in the middle of a super hot class, "Hey, why don't you take your shirt off?" He responded with a laugh. That was it. Huh? What the fuck? Did he have some weird thing goin' on under there? Strange hair growth or a third nipple or maybe he wore a girdle or something to bind him in? I just didn't get it. A few days later I asked him why he wouldn't take his shirt off and he said some bullshit about it being better to practice with a shirt to hold the sweat...yea, whatever. I was determined now. There's 70 year old men with moobs, men with huge Buddha bellies and strange arrangements of thick back hair in unusual patterns, and they take their shirts off; yet this guy wouldn't budge. So much of yoga is about letting go but he wouldn't let go of his damn shirt and I couldn't let go of the idea of getting it off of him. And I tried, oh believe me. If you attended any of those classes during my mission, well, the extra push ups and 5 minute planks...I need to apologize 'cause I got a little carried away; and then we were all saved. Just before class began one evening, my friend and fellow teacher decided to stay but didn't have her yoga garb. She started practicing in a bra thing and it was just so not working. Light bulb!!! I went over to "Shirt", "Hey sorry, but is there any way Jules can borrow your shirt to practice in? She left her stuff at home?" He looked at me with a smile, "umm". Before he could even get the words out I thanked him, got the shirt and had her put it on. Yippee, yippee, yip, yip, yip. I couldn't believe it!!! He was shirtless and I could finally get back to teaching like a semi-normal person again. Oh, but wait, I had to look, I mean, come on, ya' know I had to see what he'd been hiding for all these years. Not with judgement but with curiosity, I casually glimpsed from across the room; looked okay from there. I wandered closer, hmmm, nothing unusual that was standing out. In fact, this guy not only had a great body but even his skin and hair, everything was really nice. I was kinda' shocked, maybe even a little disappointed. After the class I checked in with him and he was gleaming, he actually liked it and I remember the words he spoke,"I sorta' feel liberated". Next time he showed up, he didn't take his shirt off at first but I was more brazen now, meandering over, taking it off 1/2 way and then allowing him to finish it off. I know I may have pushed the boundaries but he's never gone back, he's the "shirtless" guy now and I swear I notice a little more joy in his eyes, a little more freedom in his body.
One of the things I wish for all the students that come to the classes I teach is for them to find that freedom in their practice. The freedom to be exactly who there are and the courage to liberate themselves from the things in life that hold them back from that. This could translate into trying a challenging inversion, coming to child's pose, staying on the mat when the urge to leave arises, or quite literally, as in this case, letting another layer fall away to reveal the light and strength that we all really are.

~ namaste


*** the thoughts and opinions expressed above are solely mine and are in no way a reflection of those who are more highly evolved

Our Spots

"Um, hey, who the fuck is in my spot?" she asked, not so much as a question but as a statement, maybe even a request. I told her there were a few spaces up front but as she walked away, I could swear I saw steam blowing out her ears and fire from her nose. She seemed to settle in but a few moments later I saw her dragging her mat to another place in the room. I carefully approached, "are you gonna be okay up here?", she shot daggers at me and said "no". She stayed there anyway for the rest of class but afterward the conversation continued as she explained her rage and discomfort at having to practice in a different "spot" than she normally does. This is yoga I'm talking about, yes, a spot in a yoga room, and as "yogic" as we may all try to be, our placement in this room can make or break our practice. This incident is not uncommon, it actually happens in silence almost daily for students who practice yoga at a crowded studio.
I'd love to be able to say that I'm immune to this issue but that'd be a big lie. There are days where its not an issue for me; where I come in, put my mat down randomly, and hardly notice who's around me or what "spot" I'm in...but they are rare. I have actually stooped so low that I've put down an extra mat to save a spot for my "pretend" friend that whoops, must have forgotten to come, just so I can have more room or be near a wall. From the very beginning space has always been an issue when I go to a yoga class. The first time I ever went, I plopped my mat down in the back corner, wanting to be surrounded by walls instead of people and wishing to remain unnoticed. It wasn't just that I was new and afraid I'd look like a complete idiotic douche-bag flailing around; it was my instinct in almost every setting I entered to be in a corner. I felt protected and prepared, able to see what was happening just in case...in case something bad was gonna' happen. I think growing up in a household which was so unpredictable that in order to survive I had to be on alert all the time, ready at any moment for the "winds" to change, provoked my need to be hyper-vigilant of my surroundings. I was always aware and ready to run and hide or to fight my hardest when needed. I know that this in part contributed to my developing anxiety and panic disorder but at the time it was just simply necessary. In the yoga room now? Probably not so vital...at all.
Yet, somehow "our spots" have become an important aspect to our experience in the studio. It seems so simple; take out your mat, put it down, and practice yoga. Oh, if only. The thing is, I'm not the only one with placement issues when it comes to space or proximity, there's a whole room of us together. Our complexity is part of what makes us need yoga, its part of what makes our community so alive and colorful. It also makes simple things a little more complicated. For me, its anxiety and an imagination that dictates where I feel comfortable. But there's a plethora of things that can effect where a student chooses to put their mat. For some, its habit. They come everyday and practice in the same spot. Eventually, it somehow becomes "theirs" and if an unknowing person should happen to set up in this "spot", oh boy, watch out! Some students will come 30 minutes early just so they can ensure they get "their spot" and when the time comes, and the door opens, its a mad dash. I've actually witnessed episodes of trampling and bumping and heated discussions when a student feels "their spot" is in danger of becoming occupied by another. What a way to start a yoga practice, om shanti, not.
There are other issues too. For those who don't have an official "spot", they still may have preferences. Some students like to practice next to a particular person, flowing together in unison, sharing energy, and exchanging friendly banter (or flirting) before and after class. Just as blissful as these people feel about practicing with someone they "like", they have the same degree of discontentment when having to be next to someone they just don't jibe with. Maybe its their energy, their inability to be aware of their own moving body parts, or their total lack of respect for another person's space. These can be annoying but some things are truly unbearable and should be avoided at all costs. The student who takes it upon themselves to reach out and touch someone, really? come on! Unless you have prior consent, mutual prior consent, keep your hands to yourself during class. I know sometimes the teacher actually asks you to reach out and touch, so fine, use your best judgement in that case, but otherwise, honestly, its just plain creepy, blahhhh. And then there's the stinkers. Okay, I have to admit that every so often I have discovered as the heat sinks in and humidity crawls up, a not so pleasing scent begins to arise out of my towel or shirt. I sniff around, desperately trying to find the source of this pungent odor, praying its anyone but me, but when all other options have been discounted and the only possibility that remains is me, I must face the truth...and with horrible shame. I usually move a little further away from anyone around me and then offer my apologies at the end of class, aware that I need to go home and either take the garment to the trash, soak it for hours in white vinegar or light a fire and just let it burn. Now I take full responsibility when my I'm at fault, not that this makes it any better for people around me but there are some folks who just seem to have lost their olfactory senses all together. They are what I refer to as "repeat offenders" and most of the students who attend classes on a regular basis have identified these stinkers and make every effort to avoid being in close proximity to them. Some have the garlic thing going on, it seeps out of every pore and its not the yummy just walked into an authentic Italian restaurant kind of smell; its more the "I've been lingering in your body for a while and now I'm rotting away and need a way out" sorta stench. There's also the "I am starving myself and have severe halitosis" smell. In this case, let's not talk; just breathe through your nose and we'll get along fine. This is pretty bad but its not the worst. There is definitely a scale here of intolerable and body odor is the number 1 offender. I'm not referring to the underarm hippie scent; no, its lower down, its between your legs, and its really not good. It's crotch rot! In severe cases, exposure to this smell can cause dizziness, nausea, dry heaving, and eventually lead to a premature emergency exit from class. Maybe its dirty or infected but seriously, when you come into a forward fold, take a whiff and if you smell a little funk, ya' might just wanna schedule an appointment with your doctor and be sure things are okay "down there". This is not just for the comfort of those around you but for your own sake and health. And by the way, though there is a slight variation in odor, both men and women can be culprits.
Finally, if its not a smell, a person, or out of habit that determines where a student puts their mat; it could be the temperature of the room, the lighting, the speakers, or the distance to an exit. Maybe its just some psychological or emotional thing. We may never know why someone chooses their "spot" but we all know that its never really "our spot" and maybe the next time you come into class, you'll decide to make this your yoga practice. Pick a spot, let it be random, let it be different, and find a way to have an awesome class.  Practice with tolerance and compassion and real flexibility. And I will do my best to not only come to class with stink-free towels and clothes but I'll stop reserving that "spot" next to me for the nobody, who's never showing up...and just maybe get out of the corner.

~ the thoughts and opinions expressed above are solely mine and are in no way a reflection of those who are more highly evolved

The Ex Factor

I met my 1st husband while I was backpacking overseas in my early twenties. We had one of those crazy connections, the kind, at least for me, that are incredibly rare...I've had about four.  He had a girlfriend back in the States waiting for his return home and was planning on marrying her. We began to have a passion-filled romance but I assumed it would end when he went back to the U.S. No skin off my back, I knew it was a temporary love affair. Despite our "understanding" he arrived in the States, called it off with his longtime love, and waited for me to return a few months later to proclaim his desire for us to build a relationship together.
It was fun and beautiful when it began, but from the moment he introduced me to his parents, things went downhill. I wasn't quite the nice, demur Jewish girl from a good home they'd been hoping for; and to be honest, they weren't my cup of tea, I actually hated tea. They were conservative and inauthentic and worst of all, my free-spirited, dreadlock adorning hippie boyfriend turned into a pathetic, pussy of a momma's boy before my eyes. His parents became a huge issue of conflict for us and we started fighting all the time about everything. Even though I was still the hot, untameable freak he fell madly in love with, he now wanted me to be different, he needed me to change and be a "good wife". He made lists telling me how to behave..."4) when you see my parents, you must approach them with a smile and hug them both. 5) you need to start wearing suits; skirt or pant suits." Yes, these exact words! I still have the list! Never mind that I managed a health food store and might have looked a bit ridiculous coming into work dressed like a corporate lawyer...douche bag! I just couldn't get it right with him and when things got real bad, he would compare me to his previous girlfriend, Sweet Betty Cocksucker, now she was perfect. I should have run away before we got married but instead I stayed and died a little more everyday; fading, withering, crumbling into just a shadow of my old self. I tried to fit in, to be what I imagined they all wanted me to be but I couldn't do it. He eventually left and moved back in with mommy and daddy but here's the topper, he and Betty Cocksucker got married 6 months after our divorce was final. But wait, wait...they married on the same date that him and I married a few years earlier, like a do-over or something deranged like that. Its all for the best, really, but this is where the yoga stuff comes in...
I start doing yoga and fell in love with a fellow yogi. We both had a daily practice and the yoga room felt like "our sacred space". It was a quiet, sensual place for us to connect in a raw and organic way with each other. I felt supported by the community, they actually seemed to be falling in love with the idea of us finding each other there and it was all so serendipitous.  The dreaminess ended one evening when his darling ex-wife showed up and set up to practice yoga directly in the row in front of me. What the fuck was she doing in "our space"?! I watched her the entire time, she was strong and graceful and what the fuck was she doing here? See, as painful as it was to admit, my boyfriend was not over her; he was still in love with this woman, the mother of his children and wife of 12 years. She had left him and without getting into too many details, he believed they had the "perfect" marriage. Now, everyone brings baggage to a relationship but mine was hundreds of miles away married to his Betty Cocksucker. My boyfriend's however was right here with us, how cozy! All my insecurities came rushing in during that class, not only because my gut told me he wasn't over her but because of what had happened in my prior relationship. My husband had gone back to his ex and I couldn't help but remember and be afraid that the same thing would happen again with this guy. After class, I approached the teacher and voiced my displeasure. I told him not to welcome her and not to encourage her to be here. I begged for him to ask the ex to never return and explained that this was "our sacred space" now, she didn't belong. He was understanding but she was there the next week and I believed my requests had fallen upon deaf ears. Again and again she returned and when the same teacher I'd asked for help took her mat, placing it just inches from mine, I realized the nightmare was just beginning. For months, I took myself through poses but always kept an eye on her. I'd see her struggle and I'd step right up, not allowing my body to shake or quiver in the most intense moments. Each class I'd set out to prove I was better and stronger by holding a pose longer or softening so deeply to show my flexibility that I'd be temporarily paralyzed for the remainder of the day...I wasn't practicing yoga anymore but I was engaged in an all out battle, an intense competition with this woman. (Note: I'm pretty sure his ex had no idea she was actually involved in any competition with my lunatic self.) It was heart-wrenching. I'd completely lost my practice to this woman and now I was terrified I would lose this man I'd slowly come to love.
As the months rolled on, I began teaching at the studio. I loved it! I was able to reignite my passion for yoga through this process and though my boyfriend and I struggled a lot, we managed to stay together. His ex-wife was still there but she never attended the classes I taught and I felt less distracted by her presence. One day I was asked to sub a class and just as I was about to start teaching, the door opened and in walked the ex. My heart jumped and plopped down into my stomach, no fucking way!!! Okay, she wouldn't stay once she saw me, no way, uh-uh, nope...wait, ooooh, she was staying, holy crap. The nerve! Now what? I had to give love to all the students, I had to focus on being a conduit for healing, I had to be a teacher. As class began, I broke out into a serious sweat even before the students had a chance to finish their 1st Sun Salutation. I watched her as I led them through a series of flows but tried my best not to focus too much on her presence. It was difficult but I got through the class and was able to feel the love and gratitude for the students there. At the very end, everyone lay in Savasana and with great trepidation I approached her. I didn't know what would happen, maybe she'd smack me in the face or just get up and leave, but I went there. I gently placed both of my hands on her head and reached into the depths of my heart and dug in for all the love I could find to give her in that moment of contact. She lay there, and in stillness allowed me to love her. Despite the fact that I wanted to hate, to be angry; it just wasn't there anymore. And wouldn't you know it, 5 years later and his ex has become my friend, my dear wonderful friend.
This was a turning point in my life and as a yoga teacher. I realized that in order to be a good yoga teacher, one must teach from the heart. And if the heart is full of anger and/or fear, then we are incapable of bringing what I believe is a central ingredient to the students; pure love. This was also a time in which I came to understand that the yoga room is indeed a sacred space for us. It is a place to practice; to laugh and cry, to find love and heal heartache, to build friendships and sever unhealthy relationships, to explore our genuine selves and find acceptance in who we are today, and yes, to share this space because indeed it is our sacred space, all of ours.

~namaste


~ the thoughts and opinions expressed above are solely mine and are in no way a reflection of those who are more highly evolved

blah into ahhh

This was not the best morning...I woke up late only find a new zit had magically appeared overnight to greet me in the bathroom mirror; I should have known right then . Rushing around the house, I barely made it on time to teach yoga class, and was unprepared. I'm always prepared, today was an exception. I spend hours thinking about flows and music, moving myself through all kinds of transitions until it feels just right; and then consider the time of day, students that consistently attend the class, and weather.  Yes, I even consider the weather, some might say I overly prepare. This is the way I do it so that I can truly pay attention to the students when I teach, not worrying about the details of anything else. Well not today. And then, as this catastrophic class was finally coming to an end and the students could lay to rest in Savasana, I hear a few loud conversations outside the door from people awaiting the following class. They were excited, not really aware of the people on the other side, needing a few moments of quiet and stillness before they went on with the rest of their busy day. I opened the door and asked people to please be quiet and they were more than cooperative, as they always are (THANK YOU)...except for 1. Every week, twice a week, I hear that voice echoing through the entire studio, through the walls and windows and doors. Each time, it happens while the students I am teaching are in Savasana and each time I ask "the voice" to please be quiet and each time she gets angry at me, huffing and puffing and using hand gestures that I interpret to mean "fuck you bitch".  Today I reached my boiling point! I had 2 obvious choices, I could either go out there, get in her face, and request that this person "shut the fuck up for the zillionth time" or I could just remain calm with my students and leave peacefully. I did neither. I did not confront her, I stayed with my students, but as for "walking away peacefully", not quite. I was steaming in my head, annoyed and pissed off, nothing peaceful about it. I left the studio quickly, wanting a do over and feeling terrible. I did not teach the quality of class in which I leave knowing that I did my best and I was angry at myself that I let "the voice" upset me so much. Off to my 2nd job, dog walking...ahhh, I could walk it off with some sweet puppy love. Nope, that didn't happen either. After a rather unpleasant conversation at the beginning of our walk, my phone got wet and starting dialing random numbers and codes. Ok, just a phone, just a conversation...but wait, I had a brilliant idea! My phone was already behaving like a she-devil, I'd get rid of it, get off the grid a bit, let fuse burn and destroy it. I got into my car and decided it I needed a cigarette, not happening either; I'd brought a smoke but no lighter. As I entered the driveway to our house, I took my phone and threw it as hard as I could, it actually felt good, awwlright, the day was getting better already. I spent the next hour chilling with my dog and calming down before I headed out again to teach another class. I'd worked out the kinks from the morning flow and was prepared for this one. However, when I entered the room and was stopped by a student who rarely attends the classes I teach and asked "what happened to you?", for this, I was not ready. Huh? "You used to be so rock and roll, your classes, you dancing...what happened to you?" Um, wow, really, okay then. Yes, that's what greeted me at the door. Felt soooooo good! I "used to be so rock and roll, what happened" to me?  Are ya kidding? I guess I'm just an old miserable, dated bromide. Okay then, let's start class, yippee! Oh, by the way, rule number 1, please don't insult the yoga teacher right before she's about to teach a class for you, please. Needless to say, it turned out to be a great class, I gave all that I had and it was a good learning experience. Necessary? No. Good lesson, I think yes.
I left feeling alright and headed to Verizon...let's just skip this part 'cause I know you have all been there and I need not elaborate on the experience.
Home again, I wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet. I dressed and hydrated and headed off to take an hour and practice some yoga on the mat. It was amazing how all the little annoyances of the day seemed to roll right off of me with every drop of sweat. I worked hard, I got out of my head, and closed my eyes in Savasana knowing I had a chance to rest and recover from more than just the physical practice.
I stopped by my mom's house on my way home. Not only did I get warm welcome but she had made me the best vegan raspberry pie ever baked on this planet. A little later, my husband and I went for a walk on this suddenly beautiful evening and we spent the rest of the night chilling together with our 3 animal companions. Every breath is truly an opportunity to start again...and again, and again.

~namaste

...and yes, I've prepared for tomorrow and no, you are not "the voice" behind the door

~ the thoughts and opinions expressed above are solely mine and are in no way a reflection of those who are more highly evolved

The Practice

My Sweet Yoga Journey

Golden droplets

Bundles of light

Swarm around my body and out

Into the air

Moist and hot and full

Of you and me and all of us

Separate and apart

And together we are

Pools of sweat

The residue of where we come from

Evidence of what we are

And are not

And want so much to leave behind

The pain that seeps slowly out

With each breath

Leaking

Frozen ice

Slowly melting into

Tears from my eyes

From the body I carry

And the memories of suffering

And the hate and the horror

And fear

Thawing my cold heart

And then gone

Dissolving unnoticed and quietly

Without sound

I mourn among strangers

Who know nothing of me

Too close

Within reaching distance

But never would I hold out my hand

Before

Today

Letting you lead me

With your words and my heart

Not quite open

But peering out

Tasting the freedom

Of what it may be

To let go

To stop holding on

To climb out of my lonely darkness

And into love

I stand as a warrior

And survivor

And listen to the flow of breath

Sweet ocean sounds sweep me away

And I can close my eyes

I want to be unafraid

To truly open my heart

And to feel something

To connect

Even in my fear

And out of my fear

I bend backwards

And reach to the sky

Knowing I may fall

Again

And I go

To my edge.

By me

~ the thoughts and opinions expressed above are solely mine and are in no way a reflection of those who are more highly evolved

A DAY TO REMEMBER...

It was a beautiful morning, not a cloud in the sky and I began to brush my teeth when my phone rang. It was my friend Jamie calling. "Go to the roof, there's a fire at the World Trade Center and you can see it from there". I still had my toothbrush in my mouth and took the phone with me as I climbed the stairs to the top of my apartment building. There it was, a fire at one of the towers. There was another man on the roof with a camera, he ignored me. I still had Jamie on the phone,"what happened?" I asked, and he told me that a small plane had hit the Tower. I kept brushing my teeth and listened. Wait! What's that plane doing? Jamie was talking into the phone but I couldn't hear him. There was a plane and oh my god, it just flew into the other tower, oh my god. I looked at the man standing next to me and asked,"Um, did you just see that plane fly into the building?". He said he wasn't sure. "What?! That huge, gigantic plane? It just purposely flew into the building, you didn't see that?!?" I told Jamie we were under attack and the line went dead. I ran down to my apartment and got onto my computer. I wrote my parents a letter explaining what I had just seen. I told them I thought we were under attack and that's I'd just watched a big black plane intentionally fly straight into the World Trade Center and that the phones were not working. I told them that I loved them and that I loved my sisters and I said my final good-bye. I closed the windows, kissed my animal companions and told them to be safe, that they would be taken care of. I ran downstairs to the street and somehow ended up in the dog park. A co-worker spotted me; he told me to go home, close the doors and windows and wait, he didn't know what was happening either but we needed to get inside. A plane flew over and we ran, crouching in terror, running until it was out of site. Finally we slowed, walking silently, hand in hand, back towards my apartment, watching the towers burn and the people jumping and the ladders glittering in the bright sunshine and then it all started to crumble. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god...my brain could not grasp the magnitude of what was happening. There were no words, just sounds emanating from my soul. The ladder was gone, the building was gone...there was just smoke, tons and tons of smoke and paper and clothes flying everywhere. People were falling to the ground, running away, dialing their phones desperately trying to reach somebody, anybody. Sirens blared as I bid farewell to my temporary comrade and stumbled back to my building. As I began to climb the stairs, I noticed all the other tenants doors were open; I kept going. When I got to my floor, I could hear my neighbors TV on. I peeked in, there were 6 people silently staring. "Are we under attack?" I asked.  "Maybe, come sit with us". I went for my animal companions and returned. We all sat together for hours; waiting, crying, and wondering what our fate would be while we helplessly watched the fate of our neighbors and friends and loved ones, wishing for someone to tell us what to do. Seven people, for years living just feet away from each other and remaining strangers until the moment when we all became instantly aware that we didn't want to die alone.
September 11th, 2001.
That was 10 years ago, an event that changed the world and changed our lives. Now I am here, trying to find some wise words to share about that day, some great yoga lesson to pass on and inspire...but I've got nothing. While it was a day where ordinary people rose out of the rubble and became heroes and survivors, it was also the worst day in the history of my life and many others. It was senseless and terrible and although some may find the lessons in this tragic event, I still have not come to a place where I can somehow spin this horrific day into anything but what it was, a day in which thousands of beautiful lives were lost.
Let us remember and let us be kind to all other beings, may peace prevail..."lokah samasta sukhino bhavantu"

"May all beings everywhere be happy and free and may the thoughts, words and actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and freedom for all"

namaste ~


~ the thoughts and opinions expressed above are solely mine and are in no way a reflection of those who are more highly evolved