If Children Ruled the World

Ronda, Spain

I'm back from my yoga retreat in southern Spain. Traveling is a wonderful education. One of the things I discover every time I come back is that sometimes it takes going away to make me understand that what I need to help me grow and evolve exists as much in my own backyard as it does anywhere else. The notion that you need to go away to discover yourself is only as true as the fact that sometimes somewhere else reminds us that if we are not present, it doesn't matter where you are. You'll miss the show entirely. 

On this trip it was a joy in many ways traveling with Elio, my 11-month-old son. He's such a charmer and I watched unnecessary barriers of shyness, cultural disconnect, and even different language crumble as Elio meet strangers with his coy grin which were equalled with big smiles, laughs, and petitions to hold this sweet boy. Even waiters on our trip asked to hold our little prince and took pictures of themselves with our cutie. Love, purity, goodness all resides in us and we light up whenever we find it. Let children rule the world, or at least the child-like curiosity, love, and acceptance in us all. 

Moments after realizing that we had no memory card in our camera.

Being on this trip also reminded me about presence. One blissful afternoon in the ancient city of Ronda, Spain, we were sitting down to a glass of sangria (our second for the day) under the shadows of the ancient church, listening to a soothing Spanish guitar player in the courtyard when we decided to review the pictures Seneca had taken with her camera. The moment was perfect! It was then (more than two weeks into our trip) that we discovered that there was no memory card in the camera and that all those photos we'd taken could only be recalled in our memories. What a great lesson! You can't capture it. You've got to live it, feel it. You must get into the habit of living it, knowing that this is all there is. NOW.

Nonetheless, we managed to capture a few photos on our phones. Still, the lesson was not lost.

Santiago

So now the work begins. Not as if teaching yoga is “work.” When you love what you do, and get paid to do it in paradise, it’s hard to think of it as “work.”

But there is the work of being present. No matter if you’re at home or away on a yoga retreat, if you’re not present, you don’t gain anything.

I was talking to a friend before I left for the retreat. We were talking about how often you can look at the most incredible sunset and not even think twice about it. My friend, having never been to Europe, asked if he might like Spain. I said that if he couldn’t appreciate a sunset in Salt Lake City, he wouldn’t appreciate it any more in Spain. In other words, if you’re not present, it doesn’t matter where you are or what you have. But with presence, you will see the most simple of scenes and experience the rapture.

Again, our theme is The Journey. Here’s a poem by David Whyte that speaks to presence and the ground at your feet.

Santiago

The road seen, then not seen, the hillside
hiding then revealing the way you should take,
the road dropping away from you as if leaving you
to walk on thin air, then catching you, holding you up,
when you thought you would fall,
and the way forward always in the end
the way that you followed, the way that carried you
into your future, that brought you to this place,
no matter that it sometimes took your promise from you,
no matter that it had to break your heart along the way:
the sense of having walked from far inside yourself
out into the revelation, to have risked yourself
for something that seemed to stand both inside you
and far beyond you, that called you back
to the only road in the end you could follow, walking
as you did, in your rags of love and speaking in the voice
that by night became a prayer for safe arrival,
so that one day you realized that what you wanted
had already happened long ago and in the dwelling place
you had lived in before you began,
and that every step along the way, you had carried
the heart and the mind and the promise
that first set you off and drew you on and that you were
more marvelous in your simple wish to find a way
than the gilded roofs of any destination you could reach:
as if, all along, you had thought the end point might be a city
with golden towers, and cheering crowds,
and turning the corner at what you thought was the end
of the road, you found just a simple reflection,
and a clear revelation beneath the face looking back
and beneath it another invitation, all in one glimpse:
like a person and a place you had sought forever,
like a broad field of freedom that beckoned you beyond;
like another life, and the road still stretching on.

The Layers

So, this week, regarding the theme of The Journey that we are laying out at our retreat in Spain, is the notion that while on our pathway, we are making it up as we go. Don’t worry about traveling someone else’s path. If you’re traveling a path, that means it was trod by someone else. Make your own path. I like to joke in yoga that the only way to do a pose incorrectly is to do it the way your neighbor is doing it. Allow them their path. Make your own path.

Don’t even worry about the destination. The journey IS the destination. In our yoga practice, we may become stronger, more flexible, more able to do difficult poses, even be able to meditate longer and longer without going crazy due to the silence. However, those are all wonderful byproducts of simply being in the practice. There’s something to just practicing. No other place to be.

Just be here.

Check out this powerful poem by Stanly Kunitz

The Layers

I have walked through many lives, 

some of them my own,

and I am not who I was,

though some principle of being

abides, from which I struggle

not to stray.

When I look behind,

as I am compelled to look

before I can gather strength

to proceed on my journey,

I see the milestones dwindling

toward the horizon

and the slow fires trailing

from the abandoned camp-sites,

over which scavenger angels

wheel on heavy wings.

Oh, I have made myself a tribe

out of my true affections,

and my tribe is scattered!

How shall the heart be reconciled

to its feast of losses?

In a rising wind

the manic dust of my friends,

those who fell along the way,

bitterly stings my face.

Yet I turn, I turn,

exulting somewhat,

with my will intact to go

wherever I need to go,

and every stone on the road

precious to me.

In my darkest night,

when the moon was covered

and I roamed through wreckage,

a nimbus-clouded voice

directed me:

“Live in the layers,

not on the litter.”

Though I lack the art

to decipher it,

no doubt the next chapter

in my book of transformations

is already written.

I am not done with my changes.

The Way

As you may know, there’s a wonderful pilgrimage path in Spain called El Camino de Santiago. The trail spans hundreds of miles along northern Spain and ends at The Cathedral de Santiago de Compostela.

Also known as The Way, El Camino de Santiago was an important pilgrimage path in the middle ages for people traveling to visit the remains of St. James. The Way has been re-popularized by modern religious pilgrims as well as secular travelers and as many as 200,000 people a year will walk for several weeks staying in hostels along the route to arrive at the cathedral on the coast in Eastern Spain.

El Camino or The Path is the theme of the retreat while we are in Spain. Yoga is such an poignant and practical way of practicing and appreciating one’s personal pathway to discovering the inner-sanctum of your purpose, heart, and divine nature. A lot of P’s in that last sentence. Work with me.

The Path. Many travelers and heroes arrive home only to realize that what they were searching for was at home the entire time. Or perhaps better said, what you were searching for was within you. Yes, sometimes it takes a trip around the world to realize that what you were searching for was latent within your own heart the entire time.

Ultimately, we are misguided if we look at the destination of life or yoga practice as the endpoint of our journey. Being present, comfortable with the ground at your feet, is the true journey.

It reminds of me of the sticker I have on the back of my truck that reminds me of this. Instead of the stickers that boast 13.1, 26.2, or something like that, insider code for those who like endurance sports, this sticker says 1”. It reminds me that no matter where I travel, unless I’m comfortable with that journey of 1”, where, like Wendell Berry says, I “arrive at the ground at my feet and learn to be at home,” no journey I will ever take will ever teach me anything about the world. I’ve got to be comfortable with here, with THIS.

This message was never drilled into me more poignantly than two years ago when I saw that sticker, the 1” sticker on the back of my truck, recede into the horizon as I witnessed my truck literally be stolen from out of my hands. In part that sticker reminded me that I was going to have to be comfortable with the ground at my feet ‘cuz from that moment on I was going to be walking for the foreseeable future. Read the full story.

It also reminds me that along your life's journey, when life seems to smack you down, your first task is to get grounded. Sometimes grounding is easy because you’re lying face-down in the mud. Then, pick yourself back up.

While being humbled is sometimes difficult, we must remember that the word humiliate comes from humus, or the ground, and implies a fertile soil that will cause new sprouts to grow.

I invite you to be comfortable with the ground at your feet. Ground yourselves with simple practices like gardening, yoga, walking, and meditation.

Here’s Wendell Berry’s poem

A Spiritual Journey

And the world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles,

no matter how long,

but only by a spiritual journey,

a journey of one inch,

very arduous and humbling and joyful

by which we arrive at the ground at our feet

and learn to be at home. 

Cheers for the SF Yoga Tour!

I've always said that whenever you feel like you’re in a rut in your yoga practice, you plateau, or become bored, or simply hunger for something, try branching out and take classes from a place or a teacher that is completely new to you. And hey, why not do it with a group of your friends? This is how I decided to bring a group of people with me to one of the best towns for yoga in the country.

A few months ago, I flew to San Francisco from Salt Lake City to help a friend and fellow yoga teacher, Garrick Peters, by teaching his classes for him while he was recovering from knee surgery. It’s always fun to teach a new group of people in a new environment. I loved getting away momentarily from my teaching routine in SLC and happily brought my wife and son along for the trip.

While in San Francisco, we met a dear friend, Maya, from Salt Lake City, for dinner and drinks at a chic neighborhood haunt in Noe Valley called Hamlet. Maya is a fellow intelligent movement enthusiast, an expert Pilates teacher, and over the years she and I have worked one-on-one with each other sharing our love for somatics through our different disciplines.

Maya also just happened to be in San Francisco on her yearly girls trip where she and a girlfriend fly out to SF to revel in the obscene amounts of great yoga and to live it up at night at SF’s lively and unique restaurants and hot spots.

There we were, after a long day of teaching at taking yoga classes, laughing and enjoying cocktails and small plates when the idea dawned on me. . . Why not expand Maya’s idea of coming out to SF for a yoga tour and invite a bunch of people, rent out an apartment in the city, and share this towns abundance of extraordinary yoga, decadent food, and verdant wine country?

As a career yoga teacher, I’ve lead dozens of yoga retreats and this would be the first excursion where I get to go and TAKE all the classes with my students. At this retreat my role was more of curator than instructor.

So, a few months later, I found myself pulling up to SFO in a large, rented van and gathering a group of yogis. The SF Yoga Tour was on! We wasted no time and drove directly into the city for our first yoga class with Sean Haleen at Yoga Tree Valencia.

While Sean was new to the many yogis in our group, I had taken several classes from Sean and even co-taught with. I knew how good this was going to be and I couldn’t wait to share this experience with my friends. I felt like a tour guide who was sharing the gems and wonders of the yoga world to open-eyed yogis.

Class with Sean was even better than I had imagined. He focused on some technical aspects of opening our spine by the angle of our pelvis with the help of relaxing our glutes. I learned several new ways to open my shoulders as well techniques using straps to help open my spine in self-limiting backbends like Shalambasana and Dhanurasana. It was the perfect way to start our day, especially for my guests after sitting during plane ride that morning.

Sean Haleen is a gifted teacher but one gift that shines brightly is his ability to lead a class, deliberately and with precision, in a way that doesn’t appear didactic or labored. His easy demeanor and sense of humor adds to his expansive knowledge of the body and makes you feel like a friend who is along for an exciting ride. Yoga with Sean is informative but more importantly it’s fun and inviting.

Speaking to his friendliness, Sean knew our group was coming to his class and after, went with us to Arizmendi, a friendly and opulent neighborhood bakery for coffee and baked delights. We sat outside and basked in our post-yoga glow, no doubt aided by the coffee, warm corn muffins, and the sometimes-rare warmth of a bright spring sunshine.

We took our time there, said goodbye to Sean and then eventually traveled to Fillmore street for strolling and some shopping. After a few hours, we were ready for a meal and I took everyone to Roam, a bay-area favorite for incredibly fresh salads and grass-fed burgers.

After lunch, we dropped luggage at the beautiful and hip apartment we rented on Henry Street, near The Castro, and went back to Yoga Tree Valencia, this time to experience a yoga class by Jason Crandell. Jason’s class was a great compliment to Sean’s class earlier that day with more shoulder openers and backbends.

Jason’s class felt like every pose he directed and even every word he used was laser-precise and absolutely deliberate. My body appreciated the arc of the experience, never coaxing us into strain, always leading us to an intelligent place. And as skillful as Jason can place a poses, Jason could insert the perfect bit of humor here or there to keep us relaxed despite the vigor of the class. I left class feeling open in my shoulders, energized, and ready for another great meal.

Gracias Madre

For dinner we stayed in the mission. I wanted to show everybody the legendary Gracias Madre, a restaurant that doesn’t compromise flavor or cultural connection for their commitment to plant-based, sustainable food, and therefore a deep honoring of the Divine Mother.

Later that night we crashed in our hip and cozy apartment and slept like the dead.

The next morning, we made our way to Yoga Flow SF Ocean where we had the rare pleasure of catching a special class from Rusty Wells who just happened to be in town that weekend. Rusty’s class was a rare treat, having left San Francisco years ago when his studio’s landlord quadrupled his already expensive rent. Well, this week he was back in San Francisco, this time at Yoga Flow SF Ocean. He calls his style Bhakti Flow, a sweaty, quick-paced class blended with chanting, music, and heart-felt good vibes. I loved to sweat so much in class. I left that 120 min. class feeling cleansed, grounded, alive, and in love with the world, pleased as punch to have shared this experience with all my friends.

Still glowing from class, we lost no time and drove directly to Tartine Bakery, the apotheosis of baked goods,  and grabbed coffee, coconut cream tarts, and morning buns to eat while basking in the sun and overlooking the city at Dolores Park. After a lazy few hours at the park, we made our way down to the Embarcadero for a view of the ocean and some lunch.

That afternoon we ventured to Yoga Tree Hayes for a class taught by Amanda Moran. Amanda is Jivamukti-trained teacher (look for a NYC Yoga Tour to visit Jivamukti). Amanda is a serious teacher with a big heart. One of the things I loved about her class was the magic potion she rubbed on my neck and shoulders during warrior 1 which left my entire upper-body feeling light and free.

Another thing I loved about Amanda’s class was her dedication to address both ends of the intensity spectrum. She led us through intense focus with a 7-minute meditation and later intense asana as she encouraged us keep our breath steady while we held a handstand at the wall for a full 15 breaths, which she counted to ensure the proper duration. She taught a great, well-rounded class.

Hamlet

After yoga, we took our time getting back to the apartment and rested for a bit before heading out to dinner. That night we traveled back toward Noe Valley. I was thrilled to take everyone to Hamlet, the chic neighborhood haunt where I first came up with the idea of the SF Yoga Tour. As we toasted our drinks, at ground zero of the SF Yoga tour, we celebrating an idea turned to the fruit of a reality. It was a sweet moment, indeed. The sweetness of that moment could only be topped by our trip to Bi-Rite Creamery which we visited after for ice cream.

The following morning, we found ourselves at Yoga Tree Castro for a class from the inimitable Janet Stone. We knew that there would likely be a full house (130+ people) in that beautiful studio and wanted to come early to avoid feeling rushed. As suspected, the room filled quickly and buzzed with the happy cacophony of expectant yogis.

When it was time to begin class, Janet simply sat in place, looked out over the packed class, and slightly raised her mala beads. Without a word, the entire class fell silent and was ready to hear her voice as she spoke clearly and loudly without a mic. Janet taught me about presence.

To begin class, she evoked Durga Ma, the divine mother, sacred and fierce. Durga means "invincible." And while we were chanting our Durga mantra 108 times, I couldn’t help but be aware of the parallel to the spirit of Gracias Madre, the Divine Mother who nourished our bellies two nights earlier. Same mother, different incarnation. As powerful as Durga, Janet embodies strength, gentleness, and presence. Though her voice is beautiful, clear, and piercing, she doesn’t need to say much to steer that ship. This class was certainly a highlight for me.

After yoga, we took the rest of the day off from yoga to get away from the city, drive into Sonoma Valley, and tour the country’s finest wine country. I made reservations at two vineyards, Keller Estates and Deerfield Ranch.

Keller Estates was elegant, not busy, and offered one of the best Rosés I’ve ever tasted, good enough to buy and bring home.

Deerfield Ranch Winery

Deerfield Ranch was an absolute delight. They boast “clean wine” and practice reusing water and cultivating an organic wine low in histamines and sulfites. We arrived to the estate headed into the wine cave, 200 feet into the mountain, to an open salon, humming happily with several content visitors.

The owners Robert and PJ Rex were there with their gentle dog, a standard poodle named Obi Wine Konobi (I know). They were relaxed, sitting, drinking wine and talking with guests. The wine cave was both relaxed yet elegant. Being at their vineyard felt like being home. We tasted several wines, both whites and reds, and reveled in their delicious and complex flavors. It was impossible to leave Deerfield without buying several bottles.

Before we drove back to the city, we picnicked outside on the grass in front of the vineyard on homemade sandwiches we made from sourdough baguettes, tomatoes, olive oil, avocados, and Cowgirl cheese, a local creamery in San Francisco.

We took our time getting back into the city and drove directly to North Beach, Little Italy. With several bookish people in our group, we had to make a pilgrimage to City Lights Bookstore. Once our Beat Poet sensibilities were satisfied, we hiked up Grant Street for our dinner reservations at Ideale, an Italian restaurant that felt like a transplant directly from Rome.

Even with our large group, the staff all met us with warmth and treated us immediately like family. Their zucchini salad with truffle oil is famous and for good reason. We also enjoyed homemade ravioli, lasagna, and bucatini. We couldn’t stop at dinner and had to sample their dolci—gelato and port with biscotti. We ate so well that we practically had to be rolled out of the restaurant by our loving hosts.

The following morning, Sunday, we finished our yoga tour with the perfect yoga class: Sunday Morning Flow with Garrick Peters, again at Yoga Tree Hayes. Garrick is a 6’7”, happy guy who’s heart is larger than his height. He is serious about yoga and delivers a unique yoga experience that touches and gladdens the heart. His class is exactly what we needed on a Sunday morning: moving but not crazy-intense, fun and heart-felt, and yet a full and complete practice.

He used an incredible play list with the likes of Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Patty Griffin, Bonnie Raitt, etc., to create a great vibe that complimented not commandeered the vibe of class. Garrick’s also uses his own LoopFlow tracks that he created to direct a flow sequence in time. We left that class feeling open in body, free in heart, and clear in mind. 

Before gathering our stuff and heading out of town, we walked across the street from Yoga Tree Hayes to Boulangerie, a great bakery for coffee, croissants, and quiches. As we sat around the table, we all reminisced about our time together and commented on the different classes and teachers, etc. Everyone had different favorites and for quite different reasons.

After days of outstanding yoga, incredible food, laughs and fun with friends, etc., I felt renewed and whole in body, mind, and spirit. A catch I’d been having in my upper-back seemed miraculously dissolved. I felt invigorated and excited to go back to Salt Lake City and see all of my wonderful yoga students back home, having sampled such quality teachers in SF. I was grateful to have passed several days with such a wonderful group of people.

All of us on the retreat agreed that there is so much quality yoga in San Francisco, even at Yoga Tree Studios alone, that it’s like a 24/7 yoga festival. Add to that the incredible dining, fantastic sweet delights, wine country, etc. and only one question remains: when is the next SF Yoga Tour?

Maybe NYC . . .Seattle . . . L.A. . . . Austin . . . Portland. . . .

 

 

One of the Most Important Principles of Yoga

Sometimes we take ourselves too seriously. Yes, practicing yoga takes discipline, focus, and effort, but whether it's working on a difficult pose or striving to maintain our concentration in a meditation, once in a while we just need to lighten up about the whole deal.

Judith Lasater, the founder of Yoga Journal and the woman who created Restore Yoga, has been a tremendously influential teacher to me. Once she said, "We turn to yoga to become more flexible and often become more rigid in its pursuit." Bam! Right on!

Yoga has been around for thousands of years, right? It leads your mind toward enlightenment while keeping you healthy and full of energy, right? Yes and while all that seems like an austere goal, it doesn't mean that we need to wear hair shirts and self flagellate along the way. Look at the pictures of some of the greatest gurus of our day. Notice that they are often photographed in the act of laughing and smiling.  

Yes, it can be serious. And yet it doesn't have to be. Once in a while, it's refreshing to simply take a step back and notice the humor in it what we're doing. I mean, half of the time we are all pretending to be dogs on all fours with our butt up in the air while breathing like an asthmatic orangutan . . . serious business.

I like to say that in yoga we are practicing principles in the form of poses, not poses in and of themselves. One of the most important principles of yoga, I believe, is to simply not take ourselves too seriously.

To that end, I'd like to share with you some of my favorite articles and videos that poke a little fun at yoga and can see the humor in this beautiful yet sometimes absurd practice.

Some of these are a little irreverent. Enjoy.

Maharaji Neem Karoli Baba

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Guns and Yoga by Patton Oswalt

Not long ago, I decided to learn how to shoot guns. It was a Saturday morning, and I was curious. So after a breakfast of spelt flakes, soy milk and green tea, I went out shooting.

I believe in sustainable agriculture. I support gay marriage. I think war is a failure of diplomacy, logic and leadership. I’m embarrassed by the fact that it’s 2007 and my country is debating evolution. Pot should be legal. I dream of a world where punches are made of flowers.

And, it turns out, I love guns.

At the gun class, I learned gun safety, legal obligations, targeting and trigger pulling. And there were coffee and doughnuts, so you could pretend you were a maverick cop who didn’t play by the rules and, damn it, Chief, unless you let me do this my way, we’re never gonna catch this killer. Here, take my badge!

While shooting, I loved how the guns were small but also really heavy. I’m small and heavy, too, but not solid like a gun. I’m more like a duffel bag full of ball bearings and mayonnaise.

Continue Reading

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Lionel Richie is My Guru

A few years ago, my wife and I were driving home from dinner at my Dad’s house.

During dinner my dad was playing what I felt was some god-awful, nails-on-the-chalkboard, Soft Rock musical desecration on the stereo, Lionel Richie’s Greatest hits or something, I can’t remember, but on the drive home, I couldn’t stop going off about how terrible the music was and why was it that my dad even like that shit in the first place, and bla bla bla.

After several long minutes of spewing my terrible opinions about the music I felt I’d been subjected to, it was suddenly as if the Universe had heard enough of my verbal vomiting and pushed mute on my mouth. With a stroke of sudden self-awareness, I heard myself blathering on about something so inconsequential and for no reason other than to satisfy some habitual downward spiral of negativity. With clarion insight, I checked my complaining mid-sentence and the next words that came out of my mouth changed my life: “I don’t need to have an opinion about that.”

This phrase immediately canonized into my mind as my new mantra. At that moment, I saw both how useless my ranting was as well as the immense energy I was putting into spewing my acrid opinions all over those unfortunate enough to be in my company. God bless my wife, Seneca, who said nothing the entire car ride home but who, I’m sure, was enduring every Soft Rock epithet with thinning patience.

“I don’t need to have an opinion about that. Who cares if my dad listens to Lionel Richie’s Greatest Hits?!” From that moment forward, I decided that Lionel Richie was something I simply didn’t need to waste calories criticizing. And more importantly, I discovered the magical truth that I have the choice to turn my opinions off and that when I do, I feel empowered, unperturbed, and frankly happier. So simple!

Can I suggest that you begin using this mantra immediately for massive and astounding results for not only your attitude toward the world but also the world’s attitude toward you? I’m really not over selling this.

Online Yoga Nidra Teacher Training

The people with whom I’ve shared this mantra are loving it. I shared it at a meditation event I cohosted a few weeks before the holidays last year. A few weeks later I received a message from a couple who had attended the event and who said that the mantra, “I don’t need to have an opinion about that,” had single-handedly saved Christmas. Another woman wrote me recently to say that as she was driving to do be interviewed on television, she confronted the nervous knots in her stomach with “I don’t need to have an opinion about that,” and watched her nervousness completely dissolve. These people are not alone. In fact, since I’ve been sharing this mantra, I’ve received such a preponderance of positive feedback from it that I’ve decided this mantra deserves its own post.

Simple mantra. Profound implications. One reason it’s profound is because it provokes us to change our identity from one that defines itself by the mosaic of our ever-changing opinions, to one that identifies with the unchangeable Observer Self.

The credo of the Opinionator is “I critique therefore I am.” But the Opinionator fundamentally misunderstands their identity. Despite the fact that negative opinions are insidious, addictive, and low-vibration, opinions are fundamentally changeable so identifying with opinions and indulging in their fleeting existence sets us up for a massive existential disappointment.

Instead, identifying as an observer, even momentarily by doing something like repeating this mantra, is identifying with something much more real, what sages and spiritual traditions like yoga call the Observer Self, or True Self. The Observer Self is larger than our opinions and has the presence to pause and watch an opinion form and perhaps even choose to let it float on by down the river of consciousness.

This practice of merely observing something rather than reacting to it with an opinion is what Krishnamurti meant when he said, “The highest form of intelligence is observation without assessment.” Practicing this kind of intelligence leads us toward experiencing the state of our true inheritance, that of boundless equanimity, a state that can’t be shaken, not even by the immense weight of Lionel Richie’s Greatest Hits. Boundless equanimity is the natural comportment of our Observer Self and practicing identifying as the Observer Self rather than the Opinionator not only feels better but will also lead us to deeper stages of consciousness that can only come by deep observation.  

As your consciousness develops by practicing and living this mantra, you’ll feel more at one with the world and it will feel more at one with you. You’ll be surprised to see new and old friends materialize around you, friends who maybe shied away from the cantankerous person you used to be. Suddenly you’ll have friends again, and together you can talk about Lionel Richie!

Since Lionel Richie was the guru to bring me to this practice of objectivity, then perhaps I should be dancin’ on the ceiling . . . or place a shrine for him on my alter . . . or at least not be such a hater.  

Truly at the end of the day, I realize that with a little distance and some objectivity about my opinions, I actually really like Lionel Richie’s music. He’s a happenin’ soul artist whose work has endured for decades. My previous opinions were undoubtedly wrapped up myriad other things that had nothing to do with Lionel. Once I could get some breathing distance from my opinions, I could recognize that.

Yes, yes, yes. It is true that we do need some of our opinions. It’s true that we must very deliberately add our conscious opinion and deliberate action to help make a better world for everyone. I would proffer nonetheless that the more we practice the no-opinion mantra about small stuff, especially stuff around our family (man, that’s a difficult practice!), the more we will be able to apply our energies toward those issues that truly deserve an opinion and action. And we will act from a conscious place of response rather than unconscious reaction.

Plus, as practiced Observers, we will gain the compassionate ground to discuss and even debate important issues from our highest nature, with respect for those who have different opinions. And as practiced listeners and not reactionary opinion-spewers, maybe we’ll be able to inspire a similar respect from others.

May we learn first to listen, to our hearts as well as those of others, and then respond to the call to action and not be pulled off our compassionate ground by circumstances, the rash opinions of others, or the incendiary sounds of Soft Rock. Practicing the no-opinion mantra is a powerful practice to that end.

I invite you to start using “I don’t need to have an opinion about that,” today, at least for the small stuff.

And if after all this, you decide that you’re really happy with your tired menagerie of opinions. . . well, I don’t need to have an opinion about that. 

Instant Calm with this Free Beach Paradise Visualization

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Not An Escape

Something unique happens when we come to the yoga studio. We close the door behind us, shutting the noisy world outside. We remove the dirt and insulation of our well-worn shoes, forgetting for a moment the path we have trodden to arrive. We shed our coat, those heavy responsibilities we carry like burdens. We even drop our bag carrying our identification card proclaiming who we are. And then, lighter, like walking on sacred ground, we enter the yoga studio and roll out our mat, our sacred practice space. 
 
It's difficult not to feel like we are escaping from something. The irony is that the more we try to escape the world, the more the world seems to be on our heels. You may say to yourself, "I'm consciously escaping the world. Ah how sweet." But what happens the second you step out of the studio? "Darn you, World!" you say as you pump your fist in the air, "I was escaping you and here you are again!" Unfortunately, our problems don't go away because we choose to ignore them.
 
Instead, as we practice yoga, we choose to momentarily hang up our responsibilities and problems like our coat on the hook. Yes, and so doing, we refine the conversation with our truer selves, the constant part of us that is the same whether or not we made our mortgage payment on time. In yoga practice, we quiet and focus our minds, open our hearts, and ground ourselves as we move, strengthen, and stretch our bodies, the divine vehicle for mind and spirit. And as we get into the groove of our practice, our practice feels more real than even our mortgage payment.
 
After class, having touched this truer self, we now have the privilege to go back and grab our bag, don our coat, and put on our shoes, now with a different relationship to our responsibilities. Either they are no longer a burden but rather a sacred stewardship, one that grows from the relationship we have with the brilliance of our truer selves, or we now have the clarity and courage to change that which doesn't make us feel alive. Our problems don't change but our relationship to them does.
 
As we practice yoga regularly and apply this concept of relationship, we begin to treat our life like our yoga practice, balanced with steadiness and ease, with power and grace, and with an open heart and full attention. Now, we are summoning our highest selves to lead this life. With this higher self in control, what we finally escape is not the entire world, just the part of it that contained that old self who carried all those burdens and who lacked the power to make courageous changes.
 
See you in class!!

This Is What I Believe . . .

Ever think about your beliefs as a part of your yoga practice? Believing isn't an indicator of truth or non-truth. It's just what you believe. But knowing what you believe is a great way of practicing understanding yourself. It makes us inquire. And through this inquiry, we can play at the edges of knowing, as poet Mary Oliver says. Also, sharing your beliefs, especially in a respectful way, opens your heart and allows others to see a real and honest part of you. This is about truth, the Sanskrit term Satya. Not that what you believe is true (it may be) but what is true is that you feel it and that you are honest and brave enough to share it. I invite you practice sharing your truth and watch as your life opens up; notice the ways others around you also open up as you share your truth.  

So, here's a practice for me. This is what I believe: 

First, I believe in people. I believe that people are not only good, they're amazing. I believe in the human spirit and its capacity to dream, innovate, work hard, and accomplish, sometimes beyond all odds. This human spirit has sent people to space, we have figured out how to see planets hundreds of million light years away. We make astoundingly beautiful art and movement. We dreamed up Hobbits and Star Wars and the The Royal Tenenbaums. We invented Oreos. Need I say more? We help each other out in times of personal, national, or global crisis. I believe that people, no matter what, somehow to their core, are driven by love.

I believe in yoga and meditation.

I believe in personal growth.

I believe in the power of a good movie.
I believe a good talk can work out most things.

I believe in respect, honesty, and integrity.

I believe that the Universe is mysterious and big and fascinating and that I'm somehow part of this big beautiful thing, planets hundreds of light years away and all, and by understanding myself better, I understand the Universe.

I believe in trying your hardest, even if you can't win, that trying your hardest is winning.

I believe in putting your heart out there, speaking your truth, and letting the consequences happen as they may.

I believe in love as the panacea to fix most everything.

I believe things have flaws and cracks and problems and they are perfect like that because through those cracks, as Leonard Cohen says, that's how the light gets in-our flaws are the avenue to growth and understanding to the Divine.

SAN FRANCISCO YOGA TOUR

MAY 19-22. 

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I believe that I see the Divine in every person, creature, plant, and rock. I believe that the Divine has infinitely many forms and what does the Divine care if your offering to the Divine is religious service, or a prayer in the form of a decadent flourless chocolate cake to share with family and friends (for example). And since the Divine comes in so many forms, it is indeed the Divine who accepts your gift with gladness and thanks. Why not pray with your gifts, with what makes your heart sing, indeed that is a true offering.

I believe in a steady groove and a line of notes blown out the end of a saxophone.

I believe in people coming together to make miracles happen.

I believe in Girl Scout cookies.

I believe in traveling, getting outside your box, your neighborhood, and learning what's going on in this complicated, intricate and incredible blue marble of ours.

I believe in developing compassion by putting yourself in another person's shoes.

I believe in listening, and why not listen on a great sound system?

I believe in discipline with a healthy dose of conscious indulgence.

I believe in local business. I believe in helping out the little guy.

I believe in helping each other make our dreams happen.

I believe in showing up.

I believe in giving someone a chance.

I believe in music.

I believe in caring about our environment because I believe that we can individually make a difference.

I believe in standing up for what you believe, especially in a way that is honoring, respectful, and non-harming to others.

I believe in trail running.
I believe in watching others shine.

I believe in a good belly laugh until tears flow down your cheeks and you become hysterical.

I believe in the benefit of the doubt.

I believe in miracles.

I believe in accomplishing your wildest dreams.

I believe in making your space beautiful.

I believe in creating sacred space.

Again, I believe in love.

I believe in sharing. Please share what you believe.

Scott

The Animal of Our Body

A few years ago,  I had the great pleasure of leading a day retreat at Wild Heart Horse Sanctuary, my friend Sonya Richins' wonderful ranch near Park City where she keeps a few wild mustangs she's rescued.

During the retreat we learned about these beautiful animals and we learned about ourselves. We began our day with some yoga and meditation and explored some of the mystical qualities of these beautiful animals. We then spent around 20 simply observing the horses and journaling about what we noticed. It was clear to see which one was the diva, which one was the protector, which one was aloof.

Perhaps the most profound experience for me was the opportunity we had to go and be present with the animals. We practiced holding our own ground and approaching these animals neither aggressively or in a creeping manner.

Sonya taught us to be in relationship with these horses rather than assert ourselves upon them. When it was my turn, I took a few steps slowly toward the lead stallion, Kokepelli. I noticed him slightly back away so I paused and also took a step back and waited and watched. After a few moments Kokepelli lifted his head toward me and looked at me. I took a few confident but calm steps toward him and he didn't move but remained calm as if he expected me. A few more steps and Kokepelli seemed eager for me to approach him. After several minutes, we were standing with our foreheads together, me scratching behind his ears. We were two parts of one bigger thing, man and horse.

There is a wonderful poem by Mary Olivercalled Wild Geese that starts:

You do not have to be good

You do not have to walk on your knee

For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

                love what it loves.

This reminds me that there is a part of us that is an animal. It reminds me that we need to learn to work and heal our bodies on our bodies' terms through invitation and not merely subject it to yoga asana. We must listen to our bodies and create a relationship with it and wait for it to tell us how to take the next step. If we listen, we will eventually stand in complete connection with this physical part of our being of ourselves being connected in body and mind and spirit, the goal of yoga.

See you in class

Shakti: Motion on Spirit

In non-duelist thought, everything has an equal counterpart that ultimately balances the universe into one balanced state. The symbol of yin and yang is a perfect example of this: each side is not only balanced by the opposite of the other, but more poignantly, the essence of one is located in the heart of the other represented by the black circle in the white space, and the white circle in the black space.
 
Balancing out the masculine energy of light and spirit, in yoga philosophy the energy of Shiva, is the creative and dynamic female energy of Shakti. According to this model of yogic philosophy, while the masculine energy is contemplative and spiritual, the female energy, however, is determined to do something about it-to dance and celebrate that spirit into form. It should be noted that despite our gender we all have energies and traits that are both masculine and feminine. Therefore, Shakti could be described as the spirit producing action. I'm guessing that we've all experienced this feeling of Shakti sometime or other when we've been inspired to action.
 
When we express this Shakti, we feel powerful and creative, we breathe and we move. This feeling of Shakti is very empowering-it is the defining action that changes worry into something productive. After all, as one of my teachers, Judith Lasater taught me, "What is worrying but praying for what you don't want." Not only worry, though. Shakti tells the Universe that you are serious by putting action to your resolve. Even if our answers to our doubt or what is moving in those subtle realms of thought and spirit isn't immediately available, by expressing this Shakti, we've open up a channel whereby more spirit and clarity can shine through. Sometimes it takes physical motion, a little re-arranging of the furniture, to realize the bigger changes that you'd like to see. Besides, it's fun! Fun is exactly this: motion on spirit.
 
Sometimes, the physical manifestation of this female energy is called Kundalini, a force which is said to be housed in the base of the spine and will travel in a serpentine fashion up the Nadis, the principle energy veins, along the direction of the spine, once awoken through the practice of yoga.
 
I'd like to invite you to familiarize yourself with this feeling of Shakti, or Kundalini. My mode to become familiar with this is by first drawing in through breathwork and meditation to identify spirit. Then using asana, we'll explore a way to celebrate that spirit that will be fun and challenging. We'll breathe, move, and sweat. I'd like to draw upon some of the forward folds we did last week to give us strength and mobility for some new poses. Then, I'd like to draw in again and meditate at the end of practice. Once we've been reminded of our higher selves through this practice of yoga, I invite you to apply the added spirit you will feel into the vital elements of your practice of everyday living, your relationships and work.
 
See you in class.
 

---

SAN FRANCISCO YOGA TOUR

Join me for 4 days of amazing yoga, food, and wine country

May 19-22

---

The "E" Word

The Economics of Human Capital

There is a four-letter word, for those going through tough economic times. It’s the "E" word. This word is "The Economy." Strangely, it's neither four letters long nor even one word. Regardless, hearing the phrase (brace yourself), "The Economy" sometimes conjures worry and a knot in the stomach. Whether directly or indirectly, we are all being effected by what's happening with (here it is again) "The Economy."

Unfortunately, hard financial times often makes us feel like we need to circle the wagons, draw in our resources, and look out for our own interests. The scarcity of financial means sometimes leads to scarcity of good will toward each other.

But despite whatever happens on Wall Street, there is another form of abundance we can all cash in and rely upon. This resource is each other. Us. You and me. Instead of shielding ourselves from others, we can enrich ourselves and others during this tricky financial time by investing our sincere humanity (our love, compassion, trust, and laughter) into the reservoir of well-being and happiness of each other. We are each other's bail-out plan in the essential economics of human capital, a resource without a deficit and yes, one that is even more vital that dollars. We are each other's interest and will receive an immediate return on our investment each time we share a little of love and care from our endless account of humanity.  

This is yoga's (read:union) true meaning. One-ness of all.

Tough financial times is an opportunity to draw together and build friendships and communities because sometimes that is all that is left. Community is what's essential. Community will get us through. Ask your grandparents who may have lived through the Great Depression. We can help each other out in myriad ways. Give each other rides. Share job opportunities. Even just making the effort to come to yoga and give your best effort is an investment into the energy and spirit of everyone else who came to class. We feed each other. Plus, tough times moves us toward fun creative solutions that we'd otherwise never have discovered.

I love my job. I love it because I am constantly feed by your generosity and your human capital. One of my treasures of what I do is connecting with you on a personal as well as group level. I am often allowed a sneak peak into many of your hearts and get to see first hand how yoga has effected your lives. Countless times, I have looked into your eyes as you've spoken volumes to me by the tender tears rolling down your cheeks and perhaps mixed in a few words to describe some of your unspeakable challenges. You've shared with me your immense peace and joy and your stunning moments of clarity. You've shared with me the ways in which yoga has been your lifesaver, an island, an oasis. I'm deeply honored to play a small part in your unfolding.

I love writing this blog. For one, I can practice being venerable, something I'm still learning. You all know much more about me than I think I'd normally be comfortable with, but you know, it's only in that vulnerability that connection can happen. This is part of my growth. Unfortunately, you don't see the tears in my eyes as I type this jazz. I also love these emails because I often get responses back from you in which you share your personal stories, insight, and appreciation for these principles and thoughts. Thank you.

I communicate with you. You communicate back to me. But I feel a little selfish. There is a missing link with this connection--your connection to each other.

In this community that we're building by practicing yoga together, I feel I would be remiss if I didn't encourage you to see who else might be feeling the same way you do or what other insights others might offer each other.

Therefore, I am encouraging you to comment on the message in this blog and share your experiences (either anonymously or publicly) and connect with others who have done the same.

I also invite you to check out my Facebook page as a way to see how big your yoga community really is. You may be pleased to see that you have several friends who are coming to other classes. You may make new connections and friends. One dear friend predicts 3 marriages from this idea. We'll see. Maybe you can find friends with whom you can carpool to yoga. If you know your friend is going to pick you up for 6 am yoga (Monday, Centered City) it's an added incentive to do 'Get-'Yer-Butt-Out-Of-Bed Asana.'

Please don't stop sending me your personal emails. But you may also want to consider posting a comment for others to read.

Please know that all of the information you send me is private. You are in charge of what you post. I will not post anything you say unless I have your permission.

Now, I know that this invites more technology mayhem into our lives but if managed with mindfulness, I feel this can be a great way to connect to each other during difficult times. And, it's free. Possibly priceless.

Scott

I asked one of my private students to write in her journal what she feels about yoga. She's a woman who I'm so proud of, a woman who has seen immense personal growth since she's started to practice yoga. She gave me permission to copy it here.

I Love Yoga!
 
Recently when I was planning out my week, looking to see which days I could attend a yoga class and which days I would need to practice at home, it suddenly came to me:  I LOVE YOGA.  The truth is, I love almost everything about it.  I love thinking about it, talking about it, practicing asanas, meditating, learning from my teachers, going to the studio, being with my yoga friends, putting on my yoga clothes, reading yoga books, studying about it...You get the idea.  For whatever reason, yoga just does it for me. I'm addicted to those yoga "moments" -  when I'm in a pose and I feel completely weightless and at ease, when I'm meditating and I lose track of time and place or when I'm consciously breathing and I feel it in every inch on my being.  I started practicing yoga about 2 ½ years ago and I was hooked from the beginning.  I'm a fairly straight-forward, no nonsense person so I feel a bit silly writing this.  But truthfully, I feel like a five year old who's found the hidden candy jar.  I love yoga and it has changed my life.

On Stillness

Yoga Sutra 1:2 Yoga citta vrtti nirodhah. Yoga is the cessation of fluctuations of the mind.

One of our principle objectives in yoga is to practice mindfulness. Mindfulness is awareness. We can practice mindfulness while doing almost anything: walking your dog, riding your bike, practicing yoga, or just sitting.

Getting quiet and drawing in to stillness is necessary for any good work to happen. It's this quietness, this stillness, that allows the busy waters of our mind and emotions to settle enough for us to see what's down in the depths our being.

When we find this True Self, our work becomes effortless because we no longer feel that we are trying to affect anything from a personality we've conjured from a pretense. Rather, our work generates from this deep relationship with who we truly are. Our work is simply an extension of our deeper selves, the self that knows everything.

Our work, our medium is, as one good friend says, the loudspeaker of the soul.

To find this voice, we get quiet.

Can I suggest a stillness challenge? Give yourself 10 minutes of meditation each day this week. Devote a time, lock the door, turn off your phone, let your family members and pets know that you are having some alone time and even set a timer. Start with 10 minutes and if it feels incredible, go longer.

Here are a few simple ways to practice:

There Is Practice
Simply sit, close your eyes, and acknowledge what you sense, all of your senses. Without value or judgment, simply state what you are experiencing. Rather than identifying with the pronoun "I" simply say in your mind, "There is the sound of traffic, there is fatigue, there is worry, there is an incredible urge to rush to Hatch Family Chocolates and eat 40 pounds of truffles." You know, whatever thought, emotion, sensation occurs. Simply state what is. Try not to identify with it. Just watch it.

Count Your Breaths
Choose a number and count your exhales down from that number to zero. When you loose your place start back at that number. If you get to zero, start back at that or a different number. Keep you mind only on your breath. This is a deceptively difficult practice, I feel.

Mantra
Mantra means to transcend through the use of your mind. Simply find a phrase that means something to you, a scripture, a poem, some tidbit of inspiration, and repeat it in your mind. Words are powerful. You are your word.


Scott

Check out this incredible event:

San Francisco Yoga Tour May 19-22

The Cosmic Taco

The Power of Intention
 

Several years ago, I decided to move to a different place in town. I had been looking for a place to live for a while and had even committed to leave my old place by February 21st. I looked and looked and looked. Nothing. Nothing that made me feel comfortable enough to move. I soon found myself with 5 days left to find a place, sign a lease, and move and I had no real prospects. Needles to say, I began to get a little nervous.

Maybe its because I'm a slow learner but it suddenly dawned on me that maybe I wasn't finding what I wanted because I didn't even know what I wanted. So, I took literally 30 seconds and wrote down about 12 things that I really wanted in a place. I didn't compromise, I didn't hedge what I wanted. I just laid it out: how much money, how much space, where, architecture type and era. Everything. Why not?

The very next day, I found it. Not just something that sort of matched what I was looking for. Everything I was looking for, down to the neighborhood, price, and even charm factor. Oh, and it had to be clean.

I was certainly pleased but not terribly surprised. Things like this have happened to me before. One dear friend says that if I really wanted a taco (perfectly Random), all I have to do is intend it and watch as my cosmic taco appears from the sky. Now I'm not so naive as to think that I get whatever I want from life, I have my share of disappointments, but I do see the effect of regularly setting intention manifest itself over and over in life. I feel that and meditation is simply a concentrated form of setting intention.

I don't believe that I'm particularly charmed, but I do believe that we should all be brave enough to ask the Universe for what we want. I think it has something to do with what we feel we deserve.

What do you deserve?

In yoga we call this Sankalpa. It is the practice of setting an intention like planting a seed or finding a star by which to navigate your ship through this existence. This Sankalpa is one of the ways by which, I believe, we have commerce and conversation with the world that is bigger than ourselves.

Try it out. Plant your seed of intention. Choose your star. Then devote your yoga practice and your practice of everyday living to this intention and keep your faculties of attention acute.

Watch out for falling tacos!

Scott

The Art of NOT Doing

What is the art of not doing? Seriously. Not as an excuse for getting out of work, but rather in a cultural climate that values production almost above anything else, how do we practice not doing? 

There are a couple of components I'm thinking about here. First, Relaxing is a practice. Like anything you don't do regularly, if you don't relax regularly you might find yourself like the cartoon of Mickey Mouse as the magician's apprentice whose master goes out (to play poker, I think) and comes back to find that Mickey has found his magic hat and wand and in an effort to make his chores more efficient and easier, created a the chaotic army of self-operated mops and rivers of mop water. In an effort to make life easier, Mickey forgot to discover where the off button was and consequentially instead of creating ease for himself, he literally made and ocean of chaos. Ever feel like Mickey, like your life doesn't have an off button? Gentle practices like Restore Yoga and Yoga Nidra are all about discovering the off button, not as a way of tuning out but as a way of replenishing the source.

Try coming home from work and dedicating 20 minutes to relaxing before you take on anything else. Your family will get used to this ritual and may even join in. Turn off the phone, dim the lights, lay down with your legs up the wall (the yoga pose Viprita Karani) put on some Kenny G and practice resting, like a savasana at the end of the work day. The Kenny G is optional. Wouldn't that be cool if there were a mandatory 15 minutes of savasana to end the work day? Welcome to my world. With a facility and familiarity with rest, we actually become more effective at what we do because we have taken a moment to replenish the source and clarified perhaps the reasons we do all that we do.

Another component in the art of not doing is very skillfully holding steady and not reacting to a situation. Sometimes, we simply need to hold our ground and see how the situation matures. Often, this is the harder practice. In yoga there is a principle called Ishvarapranidhana. Yeah, sounds serious. It literally means "to lay it down at the feet of God," to let go of the reins of apparent control and allow God, or the Universe, or the World to make its move. Sometimes, it's allowing your children to go out into the world and face the hazards of life to learn. Sometimes it's building something and handing over control to someone or something else and walk away decisively, not beaten or defeated, but as a powerful choice. Letting go can be a very difficult practice but one that ultimately can lead you to understand your own inner character and true being.

In some way or other I invite you to practice not doing this week. Maybe try Restore Classes at or the Restore Workshop (April 10) Centered City Yoga, Saturday at 10:30 am. And if not by a yoga class, discover a way of consciously resting on a regular basis. Or maybe look at those opportunities in life to decisively not act.

Scott

Naked Truth

If it hasn't happened already, there will come a time when we stop trying to produce that infallible vision of ourselves and allow ourselves the radical permission to be exactly what and how we are. This permission revolves around the yogic principle of Satya or truth. To be honest with who and where we are, both our strengths and weaknesses, allows us a solid platform from which we can skillfully step to the next place. We stop trying to be everything that we're not and finally find how perfectly we belong to exactly where we are.
 
With intention, direction, work, and most of all appreciation for our present situation, our dreams of where we want to end up will start to fill out. If we feel stuck, indecisive, depressed, or angry, our truth is to speak to that place. We can speak to all our situations with yoga, an embodiment of all our inner landscapes.
 
What we want is within our reach; it's simply laced with a bit of irony: the key to fulfillment in the future is to be content now. If we're committed to the honesty of where we are and are content for what is, knowing things change, we create a bridge of present content moments which links us to contentment in our fulfilled future. Without present contentment, without appreciating the truth of where we are, we may find ourselves where we previously hoped for only to discover our habit of malcontent, and, disgruntlement, wishing we were back where we started or somewhere else. We're back in the viscous cycle of hoping for anything but what is true, what is here.
 
Our main task as I see it is to understand where we are, where our love lies, and bravely organize our lives to focus on what matters most.
 
I hope that this truth and brave path may lead you to yoga this week.
 
Here is an offering I learned from my teacher that you may want to use in your meditations:
 
By the power and truth of our simply practice,
May we and all beings have happiness and the causes of happiness.
May we and all beings be free from sorrow and any causes of sorrow.
May we and all beings never be separated from that sacred happiness which is beyond sorrow.
And may we and all beings live in equanimity, without too much attachment and too much aversion.
And may we live recognizing and honoring the equality of all that lives.
 
Sarva Mangalam (May the greatest goodness unfold)

Bone

I'm thinking of that big part of our yoga practice, our souls. What is that, anyway? This week, as I was practicing yoga, I felt it again for the millionth time. That big, big, part which is right there, which is everything but which is the part that I can't really put a name to. It's not Scott. It's bigger.

And I guess this is what people have been trying to point to since there have been people. We all have such a grand language for it. Such a crisis over it. We go to war over it. We put each other in hell for it. Something that isn't a question. Something that's right there. I can reach out and touch it. And sometimes, I feel that you can too-- yours, yes but mine, too. As I'm teaching and I can see you getting into your groove, I see you breathing, I see the focus. Then I see it when things click, lights go on behind your eyes and I see you think to yourself, "There it is!"

And if you're like me, you get it and before you know it, it slips between your fingers and suddenly you're looking all over for it again, under the couch, behind the dresser, because you thought you knew what it was and what it looked like but now you're not so sure any more.

Then it seems to find you because it was there all the time, or you were there and you and it are all the same thing.

Pretty soon, I guess we get so comfortable with it--it's like Peter Pan stitching his shadow onto the sole of his shoe--it doesn't go away anymore. Maybe Patantaji, the ancient guru/yoga scholar who wrote the yoga sutras about finding that big part of yourself called Samadhi, maybe his first given name was Peter Pan until he was reborn with the truth that his sole is always there, right at his feet, and it was then that he was bestowed the honorable name, Patanjali. He learned and teaches that it is by singular concentration that we simply open our eyes to it. We learn to see again.

This is what our practice is about. This is why it's a practice, yes, because it is slippery. And because it feels really, really, good every time we make that discovery, and even the journey leading up to it.

One of my guru teachers is poet Mary Oliver. She's a teacher whom I've never met but who has taught me so much by her simple and astounding words, written after she has paid acute attention to this amazing heaven, the world around us. She wrote (in much fewer words than I, mind you) something about this practice of searching for the soul. Enjoy.

Bone

1.

Understand, I am always trying to figure out

what the soul is,
and where hidden,
and what shape--

and so, last week,
when I found on the beach
the ear bone
of a pilot whale that may have died

hundreds of years ago, I thought
maybe I was close
to discovering something--
for the ear bone

2.

is the portion that lasts longest
in any of us, man or whale; shaped
like a squat spoon
with a pink scoop where

once, in the lively swimmer's head,
it joined its two sisters
in the house of hearing,
it was only

two inches long--
and I thought: the soul
might be like this--
so hard, so necessary--

3.

yet almost nothing.
Beside me
the gray sea
was opening and shutting its wave-doors,

unfolding over and over
its time-ridiculing roar;
I looked but I couldn't see anything
through its dark-knit glare;

yet don't we all know, the golden sand
is there at the bottom,
though our eyes have never seen it,
nor can our hands ever catch it

4.

lest we would sift it down
into fractions, and facts--
certainties--
and what the soul is, also

I believe I will never quite know.
Though I play at the edges of knowing,
truly I know
our part is not knowing,
but looking, and touching, and loving,
which is the way I walked on,
softly,
through
 the pale-pink morning light.

 

I hope to see you in class.

I Love Good Humor

I love good humor. I love the perfectly delivered punch line, packaged with impeccable comedic timing. To deliver good humor with an unmovable poker face is nothing short of an art.

More than humor I love music. As a musician, listening to music is very important to me. One of my greatest pleasures is to listen to a CD in the isolation of my car and as I'm driving around, digest the entire album over the course of a couple of days or a week. I listen to the album over and over, like reading a book, hearing the way the chapters/songs relate to each other, picking up on the musician's overall character, finding musical jokes, tragedy, irony, and connecting musical themes. I feel the sound of the entire album.

One of my other guilty pleasures is listening to radio talk. I guess I like to overhear others' conversations.

Well, one day I'm was on my way to teach a morning yoga class when I opened my car door to discover that someone had broken into my car and had stolen my car stereo. I was devastated. My car was locked, there were no broken windows, and the door didn't look forced open. Obviously, I didn’t have an anit-theft system. Judging by the skill and ease of this job, the guy who robbed me seemed to me to be the Bob Villa of car stereo thievery. Normally, when people steal your car stereo, the damage they incur trying to get your stereo out exponentially outweighs the value of the stereo itself. Fortunately, this guy was very thorough and created no other damage to the car than a hole in my dashboard with a few neat wires sticking out. In fact, the job was so neat, that I half expected to see the wires twisted off, taped, and labeled for me.

The only sloppy part, the part that added insult to injury, was the fact that while so skillfully absconding with my stereo, the thief ate an ice cream bar and decided to graciously leave the used, sticky wrapper in the front seat of my car. The Pink Panther leaves a single white glove; this guy chooses as his signature to leave an ice cream wrapper. Go figure. I picked up said wrapper and, fuming, was about to throw it away when I noticed the label on the wrapper, the irony of which almost smacked me across the face. It said in nauseatingly bright and happy colors, "I Love Good Humor." I was too upset to get this sick joke and appreciate the "humor" of the situation, although I sensed that there may be some rich lesson here. Instead of throwing it away, I placed the wrapper in the now vacant cavity that used to hold my stereo and drove away, brooding.

It's like my arm had a mind of its own. No sooner did I start to drive away than by complete and mindless habit did my arm attempt to reach over and turn on my stereo, only to nudge the wrapper sitting in the stereo's hole. I looked over to see "I Love Good Humor" in all its happy and sticky arrogance, gloating back at me. This did not improve my mood. The silence in the car was a screaming reminder that I felt someone had seriously wronged me. Perhaps 30 seconds later, again my arm attempted to turn on my stereo only to receive a similar result. My mood was changing from bad to worse. I lasted maybe another strong two minutes before my now music-starved arm reached out to fill the deafening silence in the car, only to hit the same infuriating wrapper. "OKAY, UNIVERSE. OKAY! HARDY HAR! JOKE'S ON ME! ONE OF THE THINGS I LOVE MOST IN LIFE HAS BEEN CRUELLY RIPPED OFF AND NOW I HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN BY LOOKING AT THAT STUPID WRAPPER. VERY FUNNY!"

Despite my internal rant, I kept the wrapper in its new home. I drove around that day, and the next, and the next, catching myself occasionally trying to turn on my new ice cream wrapper. It didn't work.

After about a week of sulking, something magical happened (no, the wrapper didn't spontaneously begin singing show tunes), I decided to try chanting while in the car. It felt good, really good. Then after a few days I tried singing to myself. My voice rocks when no one else is listening. I prayed. I also began to keep quiet and think about the yoga class I was about to teach, picturing which students would be there and what they might need from a yoga class. I began to notice amazing things, breathtaking things, things like the silhouette of the mountains against in the moonless, pre-dawn light of the morning. I noticed the way that the car felt as I drove it, the way it would take bumps, the vibrations of the engine tingling my hands on the steering wheel, the rush of acceleration. I began to notice with acute clarity my emotions and thoughts. All this silence was giving me an incredible opportunity to direct my attention inward.

My teaching and my personal practice improved almost immediately. I began to arrive to class much more ready to teach. I was less distracted, more focused, and could read the needs of a class much quicker and effectively. I found myself finally saying the things that I'd felt but could not find words to express. I said the right things because my mind had been "in class" since I left home. As I practiced yoga or meditated, I no longer spent the first half of practice trying to get the last song out of my head.

One of my most stark realizations was the understanding that I was completely addicted, not just to music, but more pointedly to the need to have some noise present, the perceived need to be drawn away from my own center and hear someone else's conversation, someone else's music, someone else's jokes. It was only then that I understood the looming joke resting quietly, stone-faced, in the car stereo cavity of the dashboard of my car. It had taken weeks but one day, while driving around, I finally got the joke! The comedic timing had built to this fantastic climax: here I was, a yoga teacher, traveling around like a mad man, music and chatter blaring in my head, only to screech to a halt, run into the studio, sit down, and talk about getting quiet. Ha! I wasn't practicing what I was teaching. What's more I finally got a taste of the brilliance of silence. I got it, Universe! I got it! The joke was on me. It took this lesson of "grandmotherly kindness," the ultimately compassionate lesson where your master beats you over the head with a stick (or steals your car stereo), to teach you something crucial. For me this lesson was how to know and appreciate stillness.
 
It took about a year until I eventually got a new stereo. Still, I learned something very valuable in the silence, something I wasn't entirely ready to give up. I learned that no matter what our work is, if we want to do good work, we need to have a solid relationship with silence. This is what we are practicing in yoga and meditation. Now, I listen to music as a choice, not a compulsion. Now, I listen to the silence.
 

I love good humor. 

Angels in the Rafters

I love rituals. They make the everyday special. I also love chocolate. So it's no wonder that one of my rituals is to regularly and consciously go to my favorite chocolate shops and deliberately indulge. Everything about the experience becomes part of the ritual, including the people who work at the shop. It turned out that as part of one of the rituals, one of my sister's good friends worked at one of these shops. His name was Ryan.

When I lived in Korea, one day I was talking to my sister on the telephone and she mentioned that Ryan had killed himself, tragically, along with his sister in a joint-suicide. Even though I wasn't extremely close to Ryan and had never met his sister, this news hit me hard in the gut. I couldn't shake the thought from my head. Lucy, my sister, asked me if I would go to a Buddhist temple and light a candle for Ryan and his sister. I didn't know if they even did that in Buddhism but I told her I would.

It was about this time that I went on a meditation retreat up in the mountains with my dear friend and guide, Jin-Soon. After our time at the retreat was spent, Jin-Soon suggested that we go on a light hike up the mountain to her favorite temple. It was late Autumn and we hiked, swimming in the warmth and light of the sun, especially after the biting cold of the morning.

We came to a small temple and quietly, we took off our shoes and stepped inside. Already sitting inside the temple were 2 female monks, both with shaved heads and gray habit, sitting on mats deep in meditation. I thought about my own meditation experience, how difficult it can be at times, and I wondered how long they had been there or planned to be there. They looked as though they may as well have been permanent fixtures in the temple. Jin-Soon handed me a mat, and we all sat down and began our own meditation. The sun shone through the window of the door in a perfect rectangle that surrounded my body like a picture frame. I was warm and quiet. I don't know how much time we spent there. Time just dissolved.
 
Once we finished our meditation, outside of the temple, I remembered the promise I had made to my sister to someday light a candle for Ryan and his sister. I asked Jin-Soon how to go about getting candles lit in the temple. She kindly walked me to the center of the compound not far away and helped me buy two 14 inch candles.

With the candles in hand, I walked to the main temple, took off my shoes, and solemnly entered the door. Just inside the door was an old monk whose face was perfectly wrinkled, obviously from a life-time of smiling. He saw the candles in my hand and speaking no Korean, I motioned that I wished to place them on the alter. He understood and beckoned me to follow his lead. I watched as he approached the enormous, golden Buddha in the front of the room and performed a dramatic bow, lowering himself to the floor then standing up again with his hands together in a prayer motion. I was amazed and how similar this bow was to the Sun Salutations, Surya Namskar, we practice in yoga. The monk performed this beautiful bow simultaneously honoring both the Buddha and the Buddha Nature in himself and all beings. I approached the Buddha to give it a try. I kept Ryan and his sister in my mind and intended to honor their Buddha nature as well as my own and that of every other being. As I accomplished my bow, I tried to remember all the steps I saw the monk perform. I did my best version and then together the monk and I walked to the alter and placed the candles gently on the candle offering.

After placing and lighting the candles, I retreated slowly backward and made motions to leave. My monk, however, had more to teach me. He held up seven fingers and motioned that it was now necessary to complete seven more bows. Again, he made dramatic motions for me to see the precise actions to perform this rite. I tried to follow his exact gestures but got lost in the details. The kind smiling monk instructed me to do it again and made me watch him again to get it right this time. Again I tried and by now the monk was softly laughing. Despite the spectacle I was making, I couldn't help but smile as well. With my every attempt at a bow, the monk hovered over me and corrected me where I forgot.

Before too long, the monk decided that I was all but hopeless and encouraged my actions by physically helping me put body in the right places. After what seemed like 30 tries, I eventually performed seven correct bows. I guess this is how I learn the best; by experience.

This bow goes like this: Stand with legs together, hands in a prayer stance. Kneel down and cross the left foot over the right while placing the palms on the floor and lowering the forehead to the floor. The butt must come down and touch your ankles (which must be much easier for him than it was for me because the monk couldn't figure out why I couldn't get that right and corrected me repeatedly on this point). With the forehead on the ground, raise the hands off the ground, palms facing up. Replace the hands on the ground, palms down, uncross your feet, and press yourself to a squatting position. Then stand up, feet together, without using hand. Finally, with hand pressed together in a prayer, make a deep bow toward the Buddha. When I completed my offering, my monk gave me a gentle bow and an enormous smile. I reciprocated in bowing and smiling my deep thanks to him.
 
As I left the temple, I was certain that Ryan and his sister were sitting as angels in the rafters, laughing at my tutelage and grateful for my gesture. I'm sure of it.

What It Means to Be a Man

Photo by Dallas Graham

Yoga means union, in part union of masculine energy and feminine energy. The marriage of these two seemingly different parts creates a whole that is both balanced and interdependent. What better week than the week of Valentine's Day to celebrate this union as we practice understanding the marriage of these energies within us through the practice of yoga. Let me be clear: we all have both masculine and feminine energy regardless of our gender or sexual orientation. This week, I want to talk about the masculine, and though we all have both, some of us exhibit more of the masculine and others more of the feminine. To make it simple, I'm going to label the masculine as "man."

To be a man means to be courageous. Courage literally means full of heart. Therefore, being courageous is being connected to emotions, not divorced from them. Embodying this kind of courage has been a theme in my inter-personal work over the past few years. To be courageous you must know your own heart and that means doing the work, getting in there and finding who you are inside. It means meditation and yoga. It means soul searching, often times on a solo retreat, or a daily meditation or yoga practice, sometimes for an extended period, then coming back to your family, your relationships, your work, passions, and hobbies with that courage, that conviction and that strength of spirit to share that knowledge and stability as a gift to the world.

To be masculine means to be conscious. It means being spacious, holding space for the dynamic and beautiful qualities of the feminine. The quintessential archetype for the feminine is the dancer, the beautiful, expressive, dynamic, and changeable presence. The changeable world-nature, time, and everything that moves-is part of this feminine realm. So, anything that is changeable is an expression of the feminine. And the masculine's job is to be able to stand and witness this beautiful dancing feminine, to look it straight in the eyes and let it dance. Hold space. Going into nature and witnessing that realm of growth, decay, expression, and beauty is a marriage of the masculine presence and the feminine dancer. Of course this consciousness also extends into the realm of holding space for the women in our lives with honor, love, and respect. To be a man means to appreciate and celebrate what it means to be feminine, in the interdependent balance of wholeness.

Men are protectors. But to be a protector a man must be vulnerable. Protecting means going into the darkness to explore the unknown in order to make safe what you love. It means leaving the warmth and light of the fire to explore the sounds coming from the dark woods. Nature is feminine therefore the masculine can help protect it by giving a shit about our air quality and natural resources. Being a man means protecting the feminine. Women are certainly powerful. Let's not forget that the lioness is the fierce hunter of the family. But like a pride of lions, the protective males respond to any abuse of the female. Like lions, men must help protect women.

It's a tragic truth that one out of three women in the world have been, will be, or are currently subject to physical, emotional or sexual abuse. Being a man means creating a line of warriors, of lions, that will stand up to any abuse and say, "not on our watch!" It means being conscious of a problem and saying, "no." It is about marrying the male consciousness and the feminine call to action in order to make a world where all our brothers and sisters can enjoy living safely and nobly. True strength is not about muscle, it's about courageously exploring your heart, it's about consciousness, and it's about being willing to be vulnerable in order to protect nature, women, and all of us by sometimes challenging the status quo. The yoking or yoga of these elements is the true expression of masculinity.

In the name of standing up in opposition to the abuse of women, I invite you is to look at this wonderful cause, One Billion Rising. This cause is dedicated to creating a voice for the abuse of women, raising consciousness, and making a difference in women's lives. Any abuse of any one of us hurts all of us.

Choose this Valentine's Day, the day dedicated to those you love, to evoke the spirit of masculinity and stand up for women.

Check out this beautiful video "Man Prayer," words by Eve Ensler. It made me cry.

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