Truth in Silence

"I always knew there was truth in silence - but what am I waiting for?" 

I don't know if it was growing up with a dad who I watched meditate when I came downstairs on a Saturday morning.  Or if it came from observing loud and boisterous people and how they affected those watching.  Or how, when someone said too much, they would get into trouble because of their choice of words - and I took notice.

I mean, granted, I could definitely be the outgoing one at the party.  In fact, I usually was. You don't get  chosen as "most congenial" because you're a wallflower.  I usually tried to talk to everyone in the room. I actually felt uncomfortable if I noticed there was someone I hadn't met yet.  

But then noise started to bother me.

Not all noises. I'm a musician. I can't hate noise. But noise that I thought was superfluous. Words that didn't have to be said. Words that came from thoughts that shouldn't have been thought.

Unless I heard words that offered a positive resonance, they started to hurt. 

You know when you tune to a radio station, and they're playing your favorite song, but you can barely make it out - over the static? Mmmhmm.  Like that.  It hurts you to listen but you REALLY want to. 

At social gatherings I would really try to listen and care when people complained about work. I really tried to be interested when acquaintances would talk about how their brothers' fiance's mother's step-nephew was was dating that girl from high school who we never used to like - can you believe that?
I even offered up my own thoughts from time to time. 

But then I realized that all this trying wasn't really me.  In high school it might have been.  I was trying to find myself. I was trying to make friends. I was really trying to get to know people. 

"Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent, and discerning if he holds his tongue." Proverbs 17:28

It's something children need to know now.  There needs to be a class in elementary school: Finding your own Path.  A class that allows kids to be creative, to be expressive, and that ends with 5 minutes of introspection.

I've really wanted to laugh with people I've called friends.  I've always loved connecting with people and finding that one thing that we can build on and use to create wonders in the world. I really really want to hear that song on the radio. But it just won't come through. There's too much static in between us.  There's negative feedback.

I used to be happy being in the middle of noise.  I craved it.  Now I find the light that shines through all the static - in silence.  And I think I always knew there was truth in silence.  That first quote is a lyric from one of the songs that will be on my debut album, coming out this spring.  I've asked myself that question a lot - when I'm in the middle of static, when I feel too much verbal clutter around me - "what are you waiting for?"

So I sit. I turn inward. I become silent.  Really silent. And I listen.  I listen to my breath.  I listen to thoughts but then I tell them to go away for now.  I let light come into me.  I do this until a big smile appears on my face. And then I sit some more.

You can't imagine how good silence feels, now and again.  Try it. I speak the truth.

Namaste.

Hope Ave

Next time you're on your way home, or to the grocery store, or picking up your kids, or on your way to work, notice for one moment that in your car, right now, is the only place you can be.  In your mind you might be somewhere else.  You might be thinking of dinner or what your husband or girlfriend might be doing.  You might have that account or client still on your mind. But the truth is you can't do anything about it in this moment.  So just be with yourself. 

I grew up near an avenue. Hope Avenue. It was the road we always took on our way to the highway.  Every time we went to the movies, we drove on Hope Avenue.  Every time we came home from my cousins' house, we took the Hope Ave exit.  I've never noticed the name before this week.  It has always been uttered as, "Hopav".  All the locals just know it as that: Ho-pav.

The other day I was feeling really anxious. I had just finalized my New Year's resolution (coming in a blog post near you soon) and was excited to start something new (again). Sometimes when I feel really anxious and want to express myself but feel stifled I develop what the Chinese call "Plum pit chi." I felt this stuck chi in my throat all the way home from work. Sometimes I even become aware of it, but the feeling is so strong I can't get rid of it. 

Then I came upon the "Hope Ave" sign.  I was almost home.  Something washed over me.  An awareness that my whole commute home was wasted on energy weaving in and out of cars, wanting to get home faster than everyone else, not being present.  I took the length of the street to do some r e a l l y  d e e p  b r e a t h i n g. I told myself that it's still okay to hope and to dream but throughout the journey I still need to be present every step of the way.

From now on, I would use Hope Avenue to remember to be present - on the way to work and at least at the end of my commute home. I know that if I am aware often enough, then I will become aware right when I get into my car and eventually at every moment throughout the day...and on every avenue.

What will you do to become more present every day?

Know Your Purpose

Serving the world with your talents is not about you.  So just go out and do it. The world needs it more than you know.

There. I said it.  :)

The Supported Headstand

If you've had any kind of back trauma and are therefore scared of falling down and getting permanent spine damage (I know, I'm so dramatic) then I'm not the only one for whom going into headstand has always felt like being pushed off the Empire State Building...until now.

In the past, I've always attended classes where the teacher, about 3/4 of the way through the class pretty much says, "Okay, stand on your head!" and I would cower into a corner or have to suddenly go to the bathroom.  If the teacher caught me, I would have him or her help me to go the wall, do a few preparation poses, then when they left, find a comfy child's pose.

Core work is definitely a must for this pose.  I've always been in pretty good shape but never really worked too specifically on the muscles in my core.  (Try "Boat" pose and "Warrior I" to practice core strengthening!)  I would try to go up into a 1/2 headstand, being coached all the way, core tight, then when my mind got in the way half way through the pose, all muscles would loosen, fear set in, and I would collapse.

The other thing that I never realized was important for this pose - and every single pose as you'll begin to see throughout my posts - is shoulders on the back. There are plenty of exercises that can help build up the muscles to keep your shoulders back there where they belong.  One of my favorite and simplest exercises is to fold over into uttanasana, grab onto your elbows, and make sure the elbows are essentially behind the head. You can even rise up to standing, and fold back down, all the while trying to keep your shoulders "on the back."  Just imagine a pencil is stuck in between your shoulder blades...and try to keep it there.

If you're ready to go up, first come down onto hands and knees, measure the width of your elbows on the ground by grabbing onto each elbow, then keeping them in place while you clasp your fingers in front of you.  Please remember to tuck that bottom pinky on the inside of your folded hands, so it's in line with your other pinky - you do NOT want to put pressure on this finger! Once you've engaged your core and feel comfortable enough with your shoulders aligned properly, it's time for dolphin.  If this is all you can do for now, do this about 3 times, resting in child's pose for a few breaths after each attempt.

Once in dolphin, some people "flip up" into headstand. But again, if you're a scared-y cat like me, you might want to learn a safer and stronger way to go up without fear of flipping over.  (By the way, you should be doing this a few inches away from a wall - with no paintings or windows behind you - so you still have that crutch to fall back on if you need it). Lift one leg high into the air.  Lift it even if it's not immediately in alignment so you can feel how long you'll need to stretch it to the sky.

By spiraling your thighs inward and using core muslces by pulling the perineum (yea, I said it - now you'll never forget to do it!) up into your bell, slowly lift your other leg off the ground.  KEEP THE ENERGY OF INNER SPIRAL AT ALL TIMES. Keep the perineum pulling up. Keep the core engaged and keep sending the tailbone down. Keep the heals reaching up. Now.....enjoy :) (and don't use your upper lip and jaw like I'm doing in this picture - SMILE!)

In this picture I'm almost there.  Shoulders could be on the back a bit more, I should be "inner spiraling" more and feet should be flat, as if they were pushing against the ceiling.  But you can only do so much when the camera is on a timer.

I was told that students new to headstand should not stay in the pose longer than 5 minutes.  HA!  After about 10 seconds, I feel satisfied enough to come down. :)  To come out of the post, use the same controlled method you used when you went into it.  Use that core to slowly bring either one leg or both legs down to the ground.  Rest in child's pose.

Ahhhhhh.....give yourself a namaste!

Until next pose....

Home Practice - Finding your Intention

I used to practice Ashtanga yoga religiously.  I would practice daily and if I couldn't get in a full hour, my whole morning and sometimes whole day felt ruined.  My back hurt after a long night's sleep. I wanted to stretch. I wanted to concentrate on my breathing.  I wanted to clear my head.  I wanted to be alone. During the middle of my Ashtanga obsession, I moved to the south of France for 10 months.  I walked out of my kitchen onto a red clay slab patio.  I practiced, without a mat, daily.  I would get ornery if we had to leave early and I would miss my morning routine.  It meant everything to me.

Near the end of my trip I had a falling accident that traumatized my back.

When I came back to the U.S. I immediately started attending classes at my old studio.  Then one day, I thought my back was healed enough - and from the downward dog posture (adho mukha svanasana) I wanted to try to "jump to the top of my mat" like I used to do in the asana series.  When my hips were in mid-air, something "tweaked" in my back - then I fell to the floor.  It wasn't so much as a crash - I happened to fall quite gracefully actually.  The instructor came over to me, noticing my pained but shocked face while lying on my back, and whispered, "Are you okay?" "Yes," I said, "But I just want to lie here."  "What do you want me to do?" "Ice would be good, but if not, I just want to lie here...please don't disrupt the class." After she slowly backed up to the doorway, still cueing the rest of the students, she looked in lobby for an emergency kit of some sort and came back, still cueing the advanced yogis all around me. She knelt by me again. "I don't have any ice. What do you want me to do?"  "Please continue teaching.  I don't want to move."

At the end of the class, an ambulance was called and I was brought to the local hospital on a stretcher.  Every movement hurt.  They took x-rays but never really figured out what had happened.  Chiropractic didn't work either.  This reconfirmed my opinion that general practitioners don't always look at "the whole picture."

I stopped doing yoga for a while and, as I felt better, would intermittently find classes to satisfy my craving for feeling tip-top.  But again, another injury ensued...this time in my shoulder.  Physical therapist after general practitioner after ultra-sound specialist; more physical therapy and pain relievers, I was getting so tired of searching for answers.

Alignment-based yoga found me.

Two years later, I can't believe the poses I am able to do as a result of practicing correct alignment.  I can't believe how this practice actually reverses injuries - injuries that developed from years of doing postures incorrectly. 
So for two years I have been attending every alignment-based class I can find; trying to soak in everything I can, learning new cues, learning new adjustments.  But something wasn't the same.  In Ashtanga, we did the same asana series every time we went to class. Nothing changed.  Once you knew the series by heart, it would have an incredibly meditative afffect on you.  I knew exactly what to practice at home.
Now in classes I discover poses I never knew existed from different teachers all the time.  I feel my practice has grown exponentially.  But it's never a consistent practice.  Then how do I know what to practice at home?  I started trying to make up my own sequences but never knew if I was doing poses correctly and didn't know if my sequences made any sense.
Then one day in a workshop, one of my favorite teachers said somethign that hit me: "Home practice is so important.  You can be lead by teachers all day long but how do you know if what you're doing is exactly right for your body?"

I went home immediately that week, found a quiet place, and meditated on that thought.  Then I began my practice - will full attention.

Since I am going through all these trainings not only to better my understanding of the practice, but eventually to teach in the same style, how am I going to learn how to create my own sequences if I don't practice them myself?!?!
If I miss a practice or I don't do a full hour every morning now, I don't become the irritable person I used to be - my mind has grown stronger, my heart more patient, and I know that practicing just a few alighnment-based poses, instead of an hour, will do wonders of good. I meditate to clear my mind, then I set an intention for myself to follow throughout my practice, and I start having fun - safely.

I become enlightened anew every day in this practice.  :)

Namaste

The Student Mind

I can't say that going through school was the biggest thrill of my life. I'm sure I appreciated it.  I'm sure I liked seeing my friends and playing basketball and running track and field after class. But when thinking back, almost all of my memories in the classroom are sour ones - filled with boredom. I couldn't wait to leave. 

I remember not being able to sleep one night and looking out my bedroom window at the stars and saying almost out loud, "I can't wait to discover all of you."

I can't believe all of the things I don't know. In fact, sometimes it's so overwhelming - all of these things I want to learn - that I just stop and take a nap. Or get on my yoga mat. Or meditate. Or eat chocolate. Yea, I probably eat chocolate mostly.

I had a lot of things to do tonight. Healthcare papers to look over, music venues to book, a new piano song to play, but my body told me to stop. So I listened. That's the beauty of a yoga practice. You start to listen to cues your body and mind give you. So my body said stop. You're tired. But when I laid down my mind said: You're hungry. Hungry for knowledge. Read. Discover. 

For one, I love learning about yoga. I love the history. I love translating sanskrit words into postures on my mat. If open and willing ears and bodies are in reach, I love sharing what I know.  I continue to go to class weekly because I continue to be amazed at my body's progress - "I didn't know my leg could do that! I thought only dogs could do that!" Yes. I literally said this in class.  Out loud this time. 

“In many ways, I still maintain the mind of a student, which helps me in my quest to help others,” said an owner of a NY City studio who attends retreats and workshops continually while she teaches and who left a lucrative career to follow her passion for yoga. 

I think I've always maintained that student mind. There was just something about 4 walls and a chalk board that really turned me off.  When I left school I loved discovering people and new places and asking questions. I heard conversations differently.  I discovered things they never would have told you in school - maybe weren't allowed to tell you.  However the more I discover, the more I realize how much I don't know...which reminds me of a gorgeous Joni Mitchell song, "Both sides Now."  Go have a listen. I am still realizing though, more and more each day, that I can do and be and discover anything in this world. The quest, the journey is the fun part.  Sometimes I don't even know what my goal is because I allow my learning to take me places I've never dreamed of.

Today I was feeling friendly - and, well, needy - so I went to my local health food store to ask for advice. I had seen this woman there before and love seeing her contagious smile and hearing her wealth of knowledge as I eavesdrop on other customers' conversations. When ringing me up with my new products, I said, "I knew you'd have all the answers."  She replied, humbly, "Oh I don't know all the answers.  I'm still learning every day."

The world is my school and my playground. I just like making up my own rules. Namaste. 

Marseille, France

Transition Time

"Your left ankle is directly under your left knee.  Your back toes are pushing into the earth and simultaneously pulling organic energy up through your foot, into your back ankle, up your leg and buttocks and into your core. Your right hip comes forward and your legs isometrically pull towards each other. Your back thigh lifts.  Smile.  Feel the beauty - feel the light. Now - JUMP SWITCH!"

Transitions are inevitable and you can choose to welcome them or drown in them.  As one of my amazing teachers says, "You can be a pedestrian throughout this life or you can live life to the fullest."  Transitions can be tough, because they mean change. Transition from summer to winter.  Transition to a new location. Transition with relationships. But they also welcome new opportunities.  An opportunity to clear your mind - to build something new - to set goals for yourself - to become a stronger person.

A self-taught yogi I know who is perfectly content "stretching" on his own asked, "Why spend money at a yoga class when I can just do what I know right here in my living room?" Good point. I do love getting in a good stretching session with the kitchen within reach but I tend to skip out on things. I tend to have more of a "monkey mind"at home. I don't have the opportunity of hearing the waves of breath around me.  I don't challenge my core strength enough. I don't have the benefits of partner yoga.  I even tend to skip savasana (the best part!).  I love my home practice. But I challenge myself to transition from my my mat in my room, get in the car, and learn something from a more experienced teacher with other yogis all around me.

I've realized in my years of transitions from one yoga class to another that it's not just about stretching. It's about meditating. It's about growing. It's about becoming more and more aware of what the body and mind are capable of.

My teacher also inspired me to transition to fall-colored nails. I love change!

The first time I heard "jump switch" I looked around and saw classmates perform a scissor-kick that seemed impossible with burning thighs.  But on the next command, I let my thighs burn a little more and let the energy soar through me and my back leg became my front leg....and the corners of my lips turned up into a smile.

Om namah