Choosing how and when to meditate is a true gift. I beat myself up for a long time if I couldn’t do it just like everyone else. Or how I thought everyone else was doing it.
I hear from students and even from people I meet who find out that I teach yoga, that they just can’t get quiet or they just can’t sit still. And I tell them, that’s ok. They don’t have to sit still. You can practice mindful movement. You can just bring mindfulness to your everyday activities or you can chant with many of the same benefits and to get right down to it, you can sing or dance or whatever you do that gets you into that state of quiet, reflective peace, the place where you wake up and are present with what is. Continue reading
At the end of yoga class when my students are open and have worked out the kinks and unblocked energy and are feeling good, I invite them to set an intention. It’s a great time because they’re also lying in a quiet position and all the creative juices are flowing.
I invite them to think about their week, their day or the time until they’re on the mat again and set an intention. How do you want to walk through this time?
Intentions are not about setting goals. Not necessarily. I prefer intention setting to be a time when I think about who I want to be and how I want to walk through this life. Intention setting can help me accomplish my goals. Continue reading
I will not live an unlived life
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire.
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.
It’s another hard day. My hands are shaky. I’ve had one cup of coffee and no sugar today. My head hurts and my chest feels….well, it’s hard to explain. It feels shallow. It feels like a deep breath is impossible. It doesn’t hurt to breathe like it sometimes can. And I feel like crying. All the time.
It’s been 3 weeks since the Boston bombings. I’m sitting in a café in Kansas, 1600 miles away. I’m safe. It’s not even about laying out the facts to convince myself. I don’t feel threatened. And yet I’m terrified. To everyone around me I probably look fine. I’m dressed appropriately. I act appropriately. But I don’t feel right. Continue reading