Down and Dirty

I broke hours of silence during treatments at the Ayurvedic ashram to say awkwardly to Haridas, the 17-year-old boy toweling off my naked body: "So... um... do you like football?" Intimate strangers, he and I. We spoke very few of the same words and communicated mostly by gerunds and gestures. I'm learning humility.
 
When I was 17, I would help my invalid grandfather wash and dress and eat. A stroke had rendered him almost helpless and at the time my young mind found it difficult to understand his frustration: after all, we were doing all the work for him. I understand a little better now how he might have felt about the basic dignity of simply washing yourself.
 
"Humble" comes from the Latin word "Humilis," or Low, and "Humus," or Earth. To become humble is like an act of lowering to the earth or your most basic elements, or returning to dust, your origins. And while humility may be difficult, humiliating really, it is the opportunity to stop pretending, to go back to the start, and give it another try. We have no choice but to strip away the entrapments of ego, the feeling of being impenetrable, feeling in control, etc. That's why I traveled 9 thousand miles to Aditya, the ashram in Kerala, India, to do Panchakarma and get my body, mind, and spirit back to the start.
 
Maybe this is why my wise Ayurvedic teacher, Jaisri, would encourage me to put myself in nature whenever I struggled with questions and doubt, whenever I could not see clearly. Getting back into nature was going back to the origin. Being in nature is my opportunity to become humble in the face of this big beautiful world and to make myself naked to it, to let it teach me, just like I must allow the boy here to bathe me.
 
In this culture it seems we value someone who "has their s--- together." We like to give someone a pat on the back who has worked hard to polish the armor of their egos. We congratulate people who seem to be embracing success, partly because we are all afraid of humility-all afraid that after the polish and shine and sweet smells and smiles and sunshine are gone, it's just us, a vulnerable naked human being like any other.

Aditya Ayurvedic Ashram Kerala, India

While we may feel temporarily safe when we pretend that nothing can harm us or hurt us or even put us in a bad mood, resting in this apparent pretense may stunt our growth and keep us from the truth: that humility gives us compassion and loving-kindness, for ourselves and for all beings.
 
This week, humble yourself (or be humbled) by going to a new class, or by practicing your nemesis poses (especially those that are difficult and make you feel dumb). Also, enjoy humbling poses, poses where you let go of the control, of the ego, of the show, like savasana, child's pose, pigeon pose, etc. Get ready to learn. And ask yourself: What do I get by humbling myself, by letting go of the hard-fought image of having "it all together"?

Poking Buddha in the Eye

One afternoon, during my summer yoga retreat at Molino Del Rey in southern Spain, my 1-year-old, Elio, and I were chillin' by the pool.

Elio teaches me volumes about what it means to look at this beautiful world with new eyes. On this day, next to the pool, Elio found a statue of The Buddha, the statue depicting The Buddha with his constant, serene smile large enough to hold the entire Universe with compassion. Elio was insatiably curios in The Buddha, his focus on The Buddha was whole-bodied; he had to know every inch of that statue with his eyes, hands, and mouth. 

There was The Buddha, unyielding in his serenity while this curious toddler batted him around like a soccer ball. Still, The Buddha didn't waiver. Nothing could deter the equanimity from his face. 

This statue reminded me of The Buddha nature within all of us. Elio reminded me of the Lila or "play" that the Universe exhibits by all of its changeability, the fact that everything in the Universe is quickened by life, movement, energy, and pulse. The Universe is like Elio as it slaps us around, pokes our eyes, licks our nose, and generally plays with us, not from a place of malice, but almost out of simple compulsion. What if in Universe years, The Universe is just a toddler, exploring all the parts, including us, with insatiable curiosity? What if we, through practice, could remain constant, grounded and serene, just like The Buddha, despite the fact that sometimes it feels like The Universe is simply messing with us? 

May we see the Buddha Nature in every being and practice knowing it in ourselves. 

You Take Care of Everybody. Who Takes Care of You?

Are you the kind of person who puts others' needs before your own, even when that sometimes means that you sometimes grossly neglect yourself? I do sometimes.

Don't get me wrong, I can be as selfish as the next guy sometimes. Still, I'm a recovering "pleaser," you know, the chronic condition where you'll do anything for anyone, even at your own expense, just so you'll be liked or not make waves.
Several years ago, in the dead of winter I was, making the preparations for a Native American sweat lodge ceremony. Though several people were going to participate in the ceremony, just the Medicine Man, a Native Elder, and myself were preparing the sacred stones and blessing them as we placed them into the bonfire.
These stones would represented the bones of the earth. They would sit in the fire for several hours until they glowed red hot at which time we'd remove them from the fire and put them into a special pit in the sweat lodge. After all the rocks were in, the participants would then climb into the low dome structure by humbly kneeling and repeating, "Aho Mitakuye Oyasin," meaning, "To All My Relations," evoking each person's complete tribe of past present and future relations to join this sacred ceremony. Then each person would climb in and take their seat in the circle around the red-hot stones. Once each person was in, the door would close, extinguishing all light from the space except the heavy, crimson glow of the stones. Then the ceremony would begin as the stones began their medicine of purifying and clarifying the body, mind, and spirit of every being accompanied by the legions of their relations.
 

It was bone on bone: the red-hot bones of the earth beginning to settle their heat into the bones of my body. A current of sweat began dripping off my entire body. The medicine had begun.  

As I sat in that sacred ceremony, I began to think seriously about something the Elder had said to me during the hours where he and I were preparing the sweat lodge. The Elder and I were using a pitchfork and shovel to manage and place the stones into the fire and at one point, the Elder stabbed his pitchfork into the snow, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, "How do you take care of yourself? It is very selfish if you do not take care of yourself. If you do not take care of yourself, then those who rely on you to take care of them must then take care of you. You have to take care of yourself, for you and for them. Don't be selfish. Take care of yourself." 

At the time I didn't know what to say to the Elder. Later, in the sweat lodge, I sat in the burning darkness, heavy in the thought of the Elder's words. I thought of the presence of all my relations, those who rely on me to be me so I can fulfill my role in the tribe. I'm sure my son, Elio, now 1, then -7, was there with me, probably sitting on my lap. At that moment I made a promise to myself and to all my relations, known and unknown, that I would do my duty to take care of myself so that those who rely upon me for all I need to do would not have to take care of me or worse, put up with the cranky version of me who feels deprived of joy because he's burdened by the needs of others. I understood that by taking care of myself, I'd pick up my responsibilities to my relations with gladness and not only with a rote or begrudging sense of obligation.

The only intoxicating elements of that ceremony were heat and truth and they were the medicine that conjured the vision of my grateful relations because I learned to care for myself. 

Now, I care for myself by going on a run, playing my saxophone, and having some quality time with my family. I live dangerously close to Hatch Family Chocolates and I care for myself by periodically walking over there for something delicious and I eat it without a spec of guilt. I go to a yoga class, sit and meditate for a half hour, eat healthy (cuz that's often more delish than chocolates). I go to coffee with friends. I commit myself to my intellectual and spiritual learning by signing up for a training or a buying a book. I listen to music. All in the name of self care.

How do YOU care of yourself? You owe it to your tribe and you owe it to yourself.

Make a list and if yoga is on that list, I hope to see you in class sometime very soon. If reaching new states of bliss and relaxation while simultaneously blowing your mind and understanding the secrets of the Universe through Yoga Nidra is your thing, then maybe you'll register for my online Yoga Nidra course.

Whatever it is, don't be selfish and take care of yourself. 

Scott

The Aftermath

Half Ironman. Check! 

Thank you sincerely to everyone who wished me well on this endeavor. By far, that was the most physically enduring thing I've ever done and I could feel your hopes cary me along the entire way.

One compound word: ass-kicker! 

Here's how it went down . . . 

The night before I started to get a bit of a sore throat. What terrible timing! I don't know if it was nerves or starting to feel sick, but I slept terribly that night. I got up at about 4 am with only a few hours of sleep under my belt, gathered my stuff and drove down to the event.

Despite the early hour, poor sleep, and sore throat (and now throbbing headache), I left the house feeling like I wasn't in the best shape to be doing what was going to be the most physically challenging event in my life . However, over the past few years, I've been practicing the ability to change my state by doing some simple powerful visualizations and conditioning those responses to change my state by doing breathing exercises coupled with a "power move," for me it's a manly grunt with a solid fist-pump. And doing this while listening to AC/DC helps to really change from feeling blah to YAUGH!!!! Minutes after I left the house, I was ready to get out there and not only succeed, but I was determined to have a great time doing it.

I practiced just observing my sore throat and headache. I was fascinated, though not surprised, at how both dissipated by merely observing them and not trying to fret over or fix them. Neither went away but they were both dialed back to the point of not even noticing them during the event. 

So, the day before the event, the organizers were forced to cancel the 1.2-mile swim portion of the event because of an "algae bloom" in Utah lake. Yeah, gross. Ain't nobody got time for that! Instead of the swim, we did a 1.2 mile run, then the regularly scheduled 56 mile bike, then the regular 13.1 mile run. Honestly, I was a bit disappointed to lose the swim because of all the training I'd done and because I was gearing up to do the full experience but perhaps part of the "tough"you get to experience in this event is to deal with the fact that things don't always go as planned. Tough beans! Make it happen.

The event started wonderfully. I was feeling great. Then about mile 25 into the bike, on the west side of Utah Lake, my knee started to hurt. I used my yoga breathing techniques to breathe prana into the knee and tension out. Soon my knee felt perfect. I felt like I was cheating the system by using all these ninja techniques I've learned in yoga. 

About mile 35 into the bike, I was feeling my legs burn. I wasn't even half way done with the event and I felt like my energy was winding up. I was doing really great with hydration and fuel but my legs were still burning. So, I remembered my visualizations I did for weeks prior to the event: I remembered a time a time when I felt amazing during a bike ride and brought all those sensations, emotions, and energy back to the surface. Boom, energy was back again. My mantra was, "Energy in. Tension out." I wasn't breaking any land speed records but I was moving steadily forward and feeling good. . . until my back tire blew out. 

I stopped, and to my luck,  no sooner did I remove my punctured tube then did the aid-van arrive. Out stepped a tutu-wearing bike cowboy named Rorey who kindly asked me to step aside while he replaced the tube, pumped the tire, and replaced the tire onto my bike in what seemed like seconds flat. It was like watching a seasoned, professional cowboy rope a calf at a rodeo. Disclosure: no bikes were harmed in the production of this blog post. 

After about 4 hours, I'd finished the bike portion and was thrilled to be on the run portion of the event, my strongest sport. The run comprised two 6.5 miles loops. I made the first loop and was though I was very tired, overall I was feeling pretty good. My legs were tired, it was starting to get hot, but I had no pain in my joints. I just continued with my mantra, "Energy in. Tension out."

Also, when it got grindingly tough, I'd look down at my arms to access my lifeline: I had used a Sharpie to write in big black letters, "Sennie" on my left arm and, "Ellie" on my right. Seeing these names remind me of my two most favorite people in the world and to put my heart back into the race. 

And right when I rounded the first loop, I saw Sennie, Ellie, my mom and sis, standing there and cheering me on. Seeing them gave me wings. "One more loop! I'll be back here in an hour," I yelled, as I pumped my fists in the air for the last gust of energy to finish this thing. 

Every mile got harder and harder. I was reduced to making little goals for myself, "just get to the next mile marker, that's all." I'd arrive to the aid station and make a new goal for the next. I was spent. It was not sheer endurance to keep going. One. Mile. At. A. Time. Eventually, I'd reached the point in the course where all I had to do was make the turn and head back along the road for the last 2.5 miles and to the finish line. I was on the home stretch!

Then I realized something terrible. I realized that they hadn't marked the course very well at that aid station, and the staff was too busy censoring the rap music they were playing to steer me in the right direction, that and my brain was on energy-saver mode and not thinking clearly, such that I'd completely missed an entire leg of the course the first time around, about a mile and a half long. Shit! It would have been easy to chalk it up to a misunderstanding and finish the course the way I'd thought it was supposed to go but I knew I couldn't do that. I'd only be cheating myself. So, I did that leg TWICE to make up for not doing it the first time and added 3 more miles to what I thought I had to do. 

Nothing has ever taken so much self-discipline than that act of running those extra three miles when I thought I was so close to finishing. It took every bit of resolve in my soul. It was a matter of my own integrity and one more hidden way that this race asked me to see what I was made of. 

During the longest three miles of my life, I knew that my family must be wondering why I was taking so long. This extra but not extra leg added at least another 30 minutes onto my run. 

"Energy in. Tension out. Energy in. Tension out. Sennie. Ellie. Sennie. Ellie" was now on constant repeat to the rhythm of each footstep.

After an eternity in this struggle, along a path that seemed like it never ended, I finally turned the corner and there it was. The finish. My family was there and the opulent welcome to simply stop running. I was done. 

Never has anything felt so satisfying as to simply stop running, lie on the grass, and close my eyes. 

I was grateful for all the yoga techniques I knew to help me finish this incredible event, especially the yogic principle of Vidya, or clear seeing. I truly saw clearly that while your perceived limits are not always as fixed as you might think, there still is no substitute for training well. More importantly, I saw the power of the heart to pull you through very physically challenging circumstances. Truly there is a connection of body, mind, and spirit. 

If you are interested in exploring ways to conquer your own limits and honestly Source Your True Power, please check out my online Yoga Nidra course which starts this Friday. I promise that if you don't love it, if you don't find a deeper, more powerful part of YOU by doing this course, I'll refund your money, no questions asked. I'm really proud of this course and I think you'll love it too.

PS

For any other triathletes out there, I'm nearing the finish on the production of a Yoga for Triathletes DVD and meditation product to help triathletes gain an edge, recover, and prevent injury in their sport. Stay tuned . . . 

How I Plan to Hack 70.3 miles

My legs were jelly, my lungs on fire, my feet felt like cement. It was mile 20 of my first trail marathon. I only had to run 6.2 miles more but it may as well have been 620 miles left to run. Then, to add insult to injury, right at the mile 20 marker, I found myself staring up into the teeth of brutal mile-long climb. I was done. Sprit wrecked. Nothing left. Game over.

My twin brother had made a playlist to for me to listen to as a way of accompanying me on this arduous run. The night before, I'd loaded the songs onto my iPod and had made a point to not look at the content so that each song would be a surprise. Somewhere around mile 7, I smiled to hear one track which was simply my brothers voice saying, "Run! Run! Run! . . . Keep running! . . . Don't stop running." 

So there I am at mile 20, ready to expire. At that point, my plan was simple: crawl under a rock to die. Just as I'm looking around for suitable rocks, into my earbuds bursts the powerful and iconic power chords of the heart-pumping adrenaline anthem, Eye of the Tiger by Survivor (fitting), the theme song used in at least one of the Rocky movies.

You know the song, don't pretend you don't. Sing along with me, "Dun. . . dun, dun, dun . . . dun, dun, duuuun. . . 'Risin' up, back on the street . . . Just a man and his will to survive ." 

I'm embarrassed to say it but as cheeseball as that song is, and as much as my inner-hipster would have loved to just roll eyes or chuckle and continue on with plan A (dying under a rock), hearing that song caused something to stir inside of me. With Eye of the Tiger thumping in my ears, my eyes focused, my legs found some steel, and I forgot the burn in my lungs. Fueled by some hidden and mysterious power, I started to crush up that slope with singular resolve .

"It's the eye of the tiger, It's the thrill of the fight, rising up to the challenge of our rival. And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night and he's watching us all with the eye . . . OF THE TIGER!"

Now, I can't even read those lyrics with a straight face, however at the time nothing could have been more serious. At the top of that killer hill, I found myself even doing victory leaps, pounding my fist in the air as enthusiastically as Rocky Balboa himself after his impossible win.

I went on to finish the run, which, incidentally, was my very improbably plan B. 

So one minute I was ready to die with absolutely nothing left in me and the next minute I had conquered what I felt was the impossible and had even found hidden strength to finish the race. No fuel. No sugar or caffeine. Just some cheesy song in my earbuds. What is that about?!

The topic of limiters, specifically the plasticity of your limits, has fascinated me, especially as I've explored my limits as it pertains to running. And I think even the notion of your limits being plastic is itself provocative. 

Since my first killer trail marathon, I've been using some powerful techniques that help me understand limits for what they are: "perceived" limitations. I try not to see limits as Truth. We've all accomplished the impossible against all odds at sometime or other. I propose that we have much more power over our perceived limits than we think we do.

You can train a dog not to leave the yard for fear of getting a shock for doing so, a response that has been conditioned into that dogs brain even when there is no longer a mechanism that administers shocks. Likewise, we fail to see the truth about many of our own perceived limitations. What do you feel are your limitations in life? Do you have a boss you're tired of? Do you believe that you can never get ahead in your finances, or that you will never meet the love of your life? 

In Yoga his misapprehension about limits or anything else is called Avidya, or the antithesis of clear seeing.  First, understanding that we might have a misapprehension about something we've previously thought as Truth is a huge step in the right direction. So, to call our limitations perceived limitations rather than iron-clad barriers is very powerful in itself. 

One of my favorite learning modules in my online Yoga Nidra course: Sourcing Your True Power, is the one where we focus on the notion of limiters; to understand them for what they truly are and to move past them by using the techniques of Yoga Nidra (a specific form of powerful guided meditation) as well as through the power of visualizations. The power of our beliefs works both for us or against us so why not program our minds to succeed or move past what we thought was previously impossible? A nice thought but in this course we Source Our True Power by understanding and practicing control over perceived limits.

So, I've registered for a half Ironman. It will probably be the biggest endurance event of my life to date. It happens this Saturday, July 16. It's 70.3 miles long: 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and 13.1 mile run. Any trainer worth their salt would probably say that I've woefully undertrained for this event. They might say that while a wonderful, 3-week, fun-filled trip to Europe, replete with cheese, bread, beer, and pastries, may have wonders for my spirit, it may not have been the best way to prepare for a half Ironman.

However, I'm not worried about the race. I believe I can do it and that is that. I've been using Yoga Nidra, visualizations, and the malleable practice of belief as my secret ninja techniques of to hack these 70.3 miles. I've prepared my mind and spirit for the race in addition to all the other physical training I've done. Sure, my body needs to be ready but more importantly so does my mind.

I'm ready. 

I can certainly use all your good vibes and belief that I can do this too. So this Saturday, between the hours of 7 am to 1 pm, sometime visualize Scott Moore somewhere around Utah Lake Utah Valley randomly jumping up and down victoriously pumping his fists in the air.

I don't think they let you wear earbuds on a triathlon so I'll be the crazy, happy guy singing Eye of the Tiger to himself.

Holding Space

We don't need to change or be better than we are. We practice deep compassion as we extend this same privilege to other people and things around us and allow them to simply be, especially those things that would easily turn our hearts bitter.

As we practice yoga and meditation, we cultivate and practice being. We also reduce the suffering known as Dukkah, which would hold us back from experiencing our highest self.

One act of holding space is allowing yourself to be with a person or thing and allow them to be just as they or it is. I'm thinking of a friend who is sick or experiencing something mentally or spiritually challenging. Simply being with that person and holding space for them, without the need to fix or change anything, just being, allows a deep compassion to exist between the two of you.

Another act of holding space is the decisive act of making room in your heart for that which would sooner canker your heart with feelings and make your mind fester with "shoulds" and what-ifs." When you hold space for someone or something, you don't have to fall in love with this person or thing but you are simply offering compassion toward them or it by not becoming sour toward it. And by so doing, you ultimately offer your own heart and mind in the same compassion--the heart that flourishes when it feels abundance and love, not bitterness, and the mind that abounds when it is sheltered from shoulds and what-ifs."

Here are a few examples of holding space:

The NYC 4 Train: stopped en route causing me to miss my flight home (years ago).
Me: bought a NYC 4 Train T-Shirt--holding space for the 4 Train.

World: Just as it is.
Me: Accepting the world as it is.

Holding space is often the first part of forgiveness toward yourself and others.

This week, practice holding space for things that your either don't understand or which bother you.

Scott

I'm In Training

So, I registered for a half Ironman. On July 16 (less than two weeks away) I'll be swimming for 1.2 miles, biking for 56, and running 13.1. It's a lofty endeavor and I've spent the last 6 months training.

While on vacation, I had to put my training on hold . . . or so I thought. Traveling can be vigorous. Please don't think I'm complaining when I say that we walked around 5-10 miles a day while we were in Paris and New York. Walking is a great way to see any city AND it is an undervalued form of training as well as daily exercise. Running is great but walking is nothing to laugh at. It uses different muscles and is challenging. Instead of complaining about it, I adopted the mantra, "I'm in training," thinking about my race coming up.

Also, try sitting in a plane, wrestling with a  restless 11-month-old for 7.5 hours, then getting off and performing the clean & jerk maneuver with all your luggage that is waaaaay over the weight limit. Then, heft a stroller, portable crib, multiple carry-ons, full-sized and overweight suitcase all across Paris on public transit to arrive at your lodging, all with the kid strapped to your chest. "I'm in training," kept going through my head and it felt like all that effort wasn't just inconvenience, but valued training. 

The European vacation was great and once I got home, I started up with my regular swim/bike/run training but the opportunities for the everyday and lesser-recognized forms of training didn't stop. Up all night with a teething kid: "I'm in training." Hefting several bags of groceries: "I'm in training." Gotta bike to teach cuz you accidentally locked your keys in the car: "I'm in training." 

Of course I'm training for not only the physical part of the race but also for the psychological and mental parts too. And really at the end of the day, it's not about one race. It's about the cumulative experience and how I can incorporate it into my everyday. 

What is all of this everyday effort training you for? You get to decide. Maybe balancing life with effort and ease. Maybe seeing every struggle as an opportunity to be present. Maybe even as a chance to perfect the part of me that doesn't have to complain about difficult things (sometimes I can be a whiner). 

What are you training for?

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. 

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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.
 

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SAN FRANCISCO YOGA TOUR

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

May 19-22

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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