Body Language

I can’t read your mind. But after 15 years of teaching yoga I have learned how to read your body. Thanks to the body/mind connection, often I don’t need to read your minds because your body is telling me everything I need to know. While I’m teaching a yoga class, I can see the open hearted practitioner manifesting the courage they are demonstrating in their daily life. I can see the slumped shoulders of the practitioner who feels burdened by the weight of the world or who is guarding a broken heart. By reading bodies, I can see those who are rigid in their thinking and those who are open, those who are focused and those who aren’t. I can see those who are enjoying class and those who are counting the minutes ‘til it’s done.  What is really cool is to feel an entire class move and breathe collectively. In those magical moments, the entire class feels like it shares the same body and mind. Truly that is the oneness of yoga.

This body/mind connection is perhaps more powerful than we imagine.  The same way that your mind affects your body, you can reverse engineer this concept so that by changing the shape of your body, you can change the state of your mind. In yoga practice you adopt the shape of a warrior to find the powerful warrior inside of you that knows how to conquer whatever stands before you, even if you don’t feel particularly powerful. You become the eagle to find your focus when you are feeling unclear. You morph into the dog to celebrate playfulness and groundedness when you might be feeling untethered and all business. You yield in child’s pose to practice humility and submission when you might be experiencing a power struggle. No wonder we walk away from a yoga class feeling like the practice has enlivened all those parts of us that we knew were there but were maybe resting dormant.

I invite you to come to yoga class this week and find your warrior, your eagle, your dog, and your child. I invite your grand spirit into this giant collective of breathing, moving beings as we all practice becoming one with body and mind and each other.


It's About Time

This time. Next time. The last time. In time. Outa time. All in good time. Time out. It’s Millah time! Summertime. Hit! Me! One! More! Time! Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Time after time. The only time. Need more time. Time will tell. Old-time. One time . . .

The clocks changed this past weekend and for a few weeks we all get to grumble about “losing” an hour. Time! What is time? Anybody else besides me complain about time? If anything, the change in our clocks shows us that time is relative, that if we can lose or gain an hour, time it’s an illusion. Even a discipline as concrete as physics says that time is relative. Yet if time is an illusion, how come we so often feel hijacked by these two imaginary but impossibly strong hands, the hour hand and the minute hand, and then strangled with a third merciless hand, the seconds hand?

Yoga teaches us that time is a construct and that our practice is to avoid living in the future or the past and be present. All we have is now. The future is an abstraction; the past is a memory. I remember once sitting in a coffee shop in Kauai. I looked at the clock and someone had taped the word, “NOW” over all of the numbers so that it was always pointing to now. Brilliant! I wish I had come up with that.

In one climax of the ancient myth of The Ramayana, the demon king Ravana stood alone on the palace ramparts knowing that on the next morning he would meet his doom. His armies had been decimated by the valiant prince Rama and all of his friends had fled refusing to support Ravana in his evil desires to keep the stolen princess Sita. That night, on the roof of his palace, Ravana knew that he was seeing his last sunset. He became almost drunk with the sweet nectar of the moment, drinking in the soft glow of dusk, the hushed quietness before the storm of battle, the sweet smell in the evening breeze, and delicious solitude. Almost with glee Ravana spontaneously began to dance, his many heads turning, his several arms twisting, his feet spontaneously stepping in time. It was such a spectacle to see this ecstatic dance that the gods of the sun, the moon, the wind, and the earth – most all of the gods – stopped what they were doing to watch Ravana’s last dance.

Upon his final step, Ravana stomped his foot fiercely and the world heard a loud crack. Something broke. One of the gods was conspicuously absent from Ravana’s last dance. It was Kala, the god of time. He was hiding in the shadows waiting to meet Ravana on the way down the stairs from the ramparts. Kala crept out of the shadows, a dusty skeleton, and rebuked Ravana as he passed. “It’s just a matter of time, old fool, until you become dust like everyone else,” Kala sneered. “You thought you were immortal, that you were the king of all and therefore above the laws of the universe, but no one escapes me. Not even you.” Ravana smiled at Kala and called his bluff. “Kala, you’re a sham, a fake, a phony.” At first Kala was confused, incensed, and offended. “Now you really have gone crazy,” Kala retorted. Ravana held his argument, “How many times have I woken from a dream and felt time had moved too slowly or too quickly? And why is it that time moves so slowly when you are young, and so quickly when you are old? And how do you explain what happens in those critical moments of life and death when time stops completely? You attempt to bind us with invisible cords but I see your game.” And laughing to himself, Ravana walked away. The loud crack the world heard upon his last step was the sound of Ravana breaking the bonds of time. Ravana slept well that night knowing that although he would die in the morning, he had already been victorious over the larger battle with time.

How do we claim victory over the tyranny of time? How do we practice being here with this moment, this breath, this second? Start by tuning into your senses. Move your body. Hold a pose. Open your eyes and see what is right here. Practice being present with those you love.

During these weeks as our minds and bodies grapple with time “changing,” I invite you to practice presence. Come to yoga and move your body through its own dance with presence.

Here’s one of my favorite poems by Wendell Berry that speaks perfectly to presence.

What We Need Is Here

Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.

The Cogs of Revelation

It starts with a question. A hope or desire. It starts with the feeling that growth is imminent, that things are going to change. Then you plug that question, hope, or desire into the machine, the machine of self-discovery which turns using the cogs that you have built. One cog might be your yoga practice, another meditation, another, your daily walk or run. And don't turn the machine off at night. Pay attention to your dreams. And when you wake up in the morning, continue holding this question in your mind and heart. As you carry this inquiry throughout your day, it becomes the practice of your life, it becomes a living prayer. It becomes the way through which start you start to pay attention to the world. Poetry is merely the sound of cogs turning. Leonard Cohen says, "If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash."

There's maintenance. Daily (or more) you've got to come to your mat, meditation cushion, your chosen craft (woodworking, poetry, dance, whatever) that engages your creativity, your talents, your insight. Part of maintenance is to keep the cogs clean by dusting them of fear, worry, negativity, and untruth. Then listen. Regularly find a place where everything can be quiet, where the ripples on the water can subside and you can see down to your own depths, even for a few minutes a day.

Eventually, you will gain new insight, often in ways you hadn't expected. You'll come up with new questions, hopes or desires. You'll plug the new questions into the machine too and soon, you'll realize that your whole life, this living prayer, is one constant flow of self-discovery. Maybe the process is more important than the inquiry. Maybe to be human is to ask the question, "What?" And through the process, the jigsaw puzzle of your life will start to materialize and come into focus.

Like a jigsaw puzzle the image sometimes doesn't materialize in any particular order. Eudora Welty said, "The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order, a timetable not necessarily--perhaps not possibly--chronological. The time as we know it subjectively is often the chronology that stories and novels follow: it is the continuous thread of revelation."

Join me this week on your mat with your question, hope, or desire as we all plug it into the machine and co-participate in this continuous thread of revelation.

Or if you truly desire revelation, join me this weekend at my Spring Yoga Retreat Friday night through Sunday afternoon. See what a weekend of yoga, meditation, nature, and happiness will reveal to you.

A Weekend of Soul

Friends! I'm really excited about my Spring Yoga Retreat coming up March 6-8 at Wolf Creek Outpost. I've got a few spots left and I'd love you to be one of those who join us for a magical weekend. Here's what this weekend will look like. Friday night, we will leave our busy life behind and meet up at the Ranch in Woodland, Utah (60 minutes away, near Kamas) at about 5:30 pm. We will immediately start to unwind with some grounding yoga and breathwork. Then, over the next few days, we will connect to our soul with decadent yoga, stirring music, heart-felt poetry, breath-taking nature hikes, delicious food, and gut-splitting laughter.

Plus, on Saturday night we have the option to to something outrageously fun. For those who want to, my band The Soulistics, is playing at O.P. Rockwell on Main Street in Park City from 9-midnight. We will take a trip into Park City and boogie while I play tenor sax with my 9-piece band to tunes from artists like Stevie Wonder, Aretha Franklin, Bruno Mars, Earth Wind and Fire, Tower of Power, Daft Punk, etc. For those who are in the mood for a more mellow night, Seneca will be leading a meditation back at the ranch.

No matter what, this is going to be a fantastic weekend and I'd love you to be a part of it. Some highlights will be:

Yoga
Meditation
hiking
Delicious food
Awesome friends
Cozy lodging
Massage therapist
Story telling
Music
Poetry
Fun
Downtime

Register with a friend before the end of the day on Wednesday, February 25th and you both receive $20 off!

I've only got a few spots left. Please sign up today!

 

Plus, save the date for two other retreats events up that you can't miss:

Lava Hot Springs Mystery School Launch with me and Valerie Holt April 9-12

Yoga and Mindfulness weekend at Snowbird April 25,26 (details to come)

AND . . . May 15-17

Source the Cool

Miles Davis was Miles Davis. He was always miles (work with me) ahead of the others regarding jazz innovation. In 1957 Miles Davis released an album called Birth of the Cool and ushered in an entirely new and refreshing style of jazz labeled "Cool." In addition to his technical virtuosity, stellar writing, and unmistakable sound, Miles Davis' genius lay in his ability to single-handedly steer the entire jazz movement world-wide.

So, big deal. Miles Davis made a new style of jazz. That's the point, though. He didn't set out to change the direction jazz, he simply knew who he was and found his voice. Really, though, Miles Davis didn't create anything, he just sourced it. Instead of "Birth of the Cool," should be "Source of the Cool" referencing that deep mystery within all of us. Whenever we source this deep mystery within us, something seemingly miraculous occurs. Miles Davis just was the notion of cool. He knew his heart's purpose for the world which was to connect to Source and express that through his trumpet. He was the leader in many other jazz movements like Hardbop, Modal Jazz, Avant Guard, and Modern Jazz.

For me, yoga is the process of understanding Self through the method of listening. Like Miles Davis demonstrated, it's about being who you are, understanding what your heart's gift to the world is, and letting that find expression in your everyday, in your job, your relationships, your speech, and your art. That's yoga. Source your cool! What is your heart's gift to the world?

What is your cool? For some of us, the answer to this question is obvious, we are teachers or parents, we run businesses or make art. For others discovering our heart's gift to the world might take some serious quietness and contemplation, some movement and breathing. And for those of us involved in this earnest exploration of our heart's purpose, listening to our heart's deeper wisdom might seem maddening or just very quiet at first. But the more we practice, the more we listen, we'll become adept at hearing that little but wise voice inside that will lead us to discover monumental things we didn't know we knew, we'll hear ourselves saying things we didn't know were in there. We'll find our cool. I'm sure Miles Davis had many moments being surprised at what found its way out the end of his horn.
 

There's also practice. Practice is where the real magic happens. I play my best saxophone alone in my living room with no one listening but myself and my neighbor's dogs. If you walk by my house and hear dogs howling, you can blame me. There is never a yoga performance, it's always a practice. Practice gives us permission to explore and try it differently next time until we find our true, strong voice. Also with practice we'll find the clarity and courage to let that voice be heard in the expression of our everyday. Miles Davis said, "Practice, practice, practice and when you get on stage, just play." With our daily practices like meditation and yoga, when it does come time to be "on" we'll have the presence and mindfulness to really shine, and to share our heart's purpose for the world.

Join me in practice this week and source your cool.

See you in class!

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 one of my Restore Classes at Centered City, Tuesday and Thursday mornings at 10:15 am. This Thursday night, I’m teaching free classes at Athleta in City Creek Mall. We’ll do a gentle practice and some YOGA NIDRA (guided meditation). 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.

Freaky Twin Connection

I'm a twin. We are identical twins meaning we came from the same egg and therefore have the exact same chromosomes. We've done time together: 9 months in the womb listening to that same momma’s heartbeat, sharing the same pulse. All this made us feel more at home when we were together than when we were apart. My parents would place us at opposite ends of the crib and by morning time they would find us entwined together, just like we were used to in the womb. We learned to speak late in development, probably because we already had our own twin language that suited us just fine; why would we need to speak anything else? We'd stand up at the ends of our butted cribs jibber jabbering for hours like two neighbors gossiping over the picket fence. There's a connection there, clearly. And it still continues even today.

 A while ago, friend loaned me a fantastic book called Fargo Rock City by Chuck Klosterman. It's a great read, hilarious writing about a great topic: Heavy Metal. You gotta know, I'm not much of Metal head. . . well, not until I read Chuck’s book. Growing up, my twin and I shared a music collection of bands like the Cure, The Smiths, and the Pixies. So, I'm reading a fascinating chapter in Fargo Rock City about the very important distinction between the different types of metal bands, i.e. Glam Metal vs. Speed Metal vs. Death Metal, etc. and which band should be qualified by which Metal prefix and what not. That same day, I get an email from my brother who lives out of state and doesn't know I'm reading this book and who has a billion other things to talk about but chooses to ask my opinion on the very important philosophical questions regarding Metal bands specifically which type of band qualifies with which metal prefix. It was like he'd read the very same book. He Hadn't. Hadn’t even heard of it. Yeah. Freaky twin connection.

So a few months go by and we hadn’t talked any further about Metal. But as I was a drafting this story about our freaky twin connection, my brother calls and brings up the Metal conversation again. My first thought was that he'd read my newsletter, but then I remembered that it was still sitting on my desktop in draft mode. Metal was on my mind and therefore somehow on his. Yeah. Freaky twin connection.

 And even if we aren't all twins, we've all had this experience to some degree or other, right? Who hasn't been thinking of that friend that you haven't seen in a couple of months or weeks and suddenly that minute received a phone call or a text or email from them? What is that? It's freaky Friday is what it is! Or is it? What is that connection that seems to transmit like a frequency across distance so readily and timely? I don't know but I like the question.

I know the human experience is a complex system and network of everything from bones and blood to neurons and nerves. Then there are emotions and thoughts and the soul, whatever that is. I guess our work as humans, and therefore in our yoga practice (a mirror of our human experience), is to practice and experience the process that unveils how it all works and is connected, not so much to answer the question of "how" but "who" or "what." Who am I and what is this all about? Clues to these bedrock questions are found right at my fingertips as I practice yoga and inquire by listening to my body, mind, and spirit.

One thing that all the parts of human beings and everything else in the universe have in common is energy, vibration, and frequency. I mean every particle and atom in the universe has movement to it. That seems to be the constant, that everything is quickened by some force, right? Energy. In yoga that energy is called prana. Energy is simply the potential to do work. In yoga, the system of energy channels networked together and converging at particular points is called the chakra system. These seven principle energy centers align at different points along our spine. And when one thing that is conditioned, or designed, or just happens to be aligned with something else, those things resonate. Like twins. 

This coinciding vibration reminds me of a concept called sympathetic vibration. It goes like this: notes represent sound waves which travel at a certain frequency. Different frequencies, faster or slower, play different notes. I'll be practicing my saxophone in my living room with my guitar hanging on the wall and when I play a note on the sax, an E for example, the E string on the guitar, tuned to play at the same frequency, starts to vibrate. Instead of waiting to be strummed, it finds the similar vibration and starts to vibrate right along with it. I'll take the sax out of my mouth and hear a "ghost note," the residual vibration of the guitar string. Freaky cool. I think we work much in this same way. When people say things that resonate with us, it's like we are predisposed, operating under the same frequency, to feel that same way. Thus we listen to politicians, see a great piece of art, watch a dance, hear a sermon, and something resonates with us; we vibrate at the same frequency. These vibrations gotta be different than light, different than sound, but something nonetheless sends a message. What is it?!

Yoga is where we get to both feel and understand better this idea of prana, vibration, and resonance. In yoga, we refine our listening skills, we clear the energetic channels, and set the conditions for our bodies to ring more clearly. Again, what is this vibration that connects us all? I don't know. But I'd be very interested in hearing your take on it. Click below and comment on this topic. What are your thoughts on the subject? See what others have written. Please share your stories about being connected or on the same wavelength as someone or something else. In the meantime, I'll see you in Yoga.

Join me this month on Thursday nights at the Athleta store in City Creek Mall for some great evening yoga classes 9-10 pm.

I Don't Know The Name Of This Bird

White-Eyes

by Mary Oliver

 In winter
    all the singing is in
         the tops of the trees
              where the wind-bird

 with its white eyes
    shoves and pushes
         among the branches.
              Like any of us

 he wants to go to sleep,
    but he's restless-
         he has an idea,
              and slowly it unfolds

 from under his beating wings
    as long as he stays awake
         But his big, round music, after all,
             is too breathy to last.

 So, it's over.
    In the pine-crown
         he makes his nest,
              he's done all he can.

 I don't know the name of this bird,
    I only imagine his glittering beak
         tucked in a white wing
              while the clouds-

 which he has summoned
    from the north-
         which he has taught
              to be mild, and silent-

 thicken, and begin to fall
    into the world below
         like stars, or the feathers
              of some unimaginable bird

that loves us,
    that is asleep now, and silent-
         that has turned itself
              into snow.

I read this poem and imagine this Spirit-Bird wrestling with its ideas in the tops of the trees manifesting as the brilliant winter storms we sometimes experience in winter. I think of this Spirit-Bird as something large and definitive, a creator or director, or maybe simply a grand observer who puffs and blows the turbulence we all sense in the storms of the sky, yes, but also the storms of our lives. I imagine this Spirit-Bird as blustery at times, yes, but also as a being who ultimately touches me with Divine love, a real touch, by sending gentle, delicate, and cold kisses floating through the air in the form of snowflakes, landing silently on my face and shoulders and eyes. Like Mary Oliver says, "I don't know the name of this bird," but I can feel it whatever it is. Sometimes, it stops me in my tracks along this tempestuous journey of life, ankle-deep in dark and cold, my brow furrowed and mind brimming with business, and lifts my gaze for a moment to watch its dazzling spectacle of fat, silent flakes filter through the streetlight or moonlight. The beauty of it all!

"I don't know the name of this bird," but I can feel its breath move through me in yoga. It makes my body move and sway, undulate and reach. It arrests my busy mind and opens my eyes.

Come and practice yoga and enjoy the warmth of the studio while inside, the Spirit-Bird, or whatever name you give it, slowly unfolds its ideas and gives you divine kisses through breath and movement, and outside, it does the same in the form of snow or rain or cold, anything, but nevertheless touches everything around you.


10% More Relaxed by John Louviere

Hey, everyone. I was feeling a little down the other day, comforting myself with some coffee and gelato, when my good friend John calls me up and reads me what he'd just written. It totally lifted my spirits. I really love it and I think it speaks perfectly and honestly to the power of yoga for regular people. I thought it would be so cool to post this for everyone to read. I hope you are as inspired by it as I am. 

10 % More Relaxed by John Louviere

I believe it’s a rule in the Sarcasm Handbook under Exceptions To The Rule #35: “One can only make fun a thing for so long until one eventually needs to put one’s self in the shoes of those whom he/she is making fun of.”

I have spent the better part of the last four years making fun of my friends who do what I affectionately call "yogurt" (or what they—with gleefully happy faces, ripped, and toned bodies—call “yoga!”). But some time ago, I finally decided to see for myself what the fuss was all about. Not to mention that my best friend is a yoga instructor and I felt a strong duty to make fun of him with more accuracy.

With any new endeavor I honestly believe that you are required to bring “you,”—sarcastic-you, playful-you, intellectual-you, scared-you, the "real- you”—to whatever it is you are trying to do. And so I did. Being someone who loves organization and process, I decided from the start that I would not be “joining” yoga (like all of those other mindless fools!) but that I would show up once a week for three months as an “experiment” (because being a scientific observer is my jam!). And, if all went well, at the end of those three months, I would have a new arsenal of phrases and isms that I could use.

Growing up I was never an “A” student. Not by any means. But, I have –by and large—been been a “front row” sort of student. I love learning. I love being close to the learning experience. I also love teachers. Maybe it’s because I always wondered if I would be one. So, I was surprised when I walked into the studio to find myself in a rare posturing position: I rolled my mat out in the back of the room.

I don’t know about all yoga studios, but this one, with few exceptions, was filled with skinny, young, white girls. This bothered me and gave me little hope for the coming weeks. I said to myself, “This may work for all of you young hot ladies, you ex-gymnasts, ex-dancers and maybe a handful of you organic, long-haired Tarzan-types, but for someone like me—someone who smokes, drinks, sits around watching too much television, and who young people affectionately call, ‘Sarcasshole,’  I don’t think this is going to work.” I sat cross legged on my mat with my clunky armor of defensiveness, my bad posture and my internal pen at the ready.

It took less than a month to realize that I was not there to take notes, to deconstruct, nor to offer my own witty words of wisdom (called out in class at just the right moment, getting just the right laugh, from a room full of very serious yoga students). Let me say that again, it took a month to realize that I was NOT there for that. No, underneath my defenses and tucked within my body was a voice, someone I had been avoiding for longer than I had realized. Or, more truthfully, I knew precisely how long I had been avoiding him. This voice had been trying to get my attention for years but I had other plans: cigarettes and beer to drown him out, a long list of failed relationships to continue mourning over, and my life-long companion, the glowing box, which I sat in front of every evening. These I had carefully arranged in my life to hold and protect me. And the steady diet of all of these things exhausted me enough to keep the voice away. Every night I would collapse in bed, unable to feel . . . until this stupid class.

Recovery is a tough road. Much less for someone who does not realize that he or she is looking for help. And to make matters worse, there was another voice. With each instruction to reach with this leg, now with that arm, now tuck your tailbone, soften the floor of your pelvis (what the hell’s the “floor of my pelvis”!?), with each straining move I made, this all-too-familiar voice would rise to the surface. In writing I call him The Editor. In public, we call him The “Sarcasshole.” But, in my body . . .  I had forgotten just how hard on myself I am; relentlessly strict. Let’s just call him The Performance Critic. This voice inside of me has something to say about everything I am trying to do. He is also who I had been trying to run from.

I’m not sure if my best friend picked up on this, or maybe it was part of his yogurt training, but week after week, in the midst of reminding us to breath (breathing—god that’s hard work!)  I started hearing him say a phrase that cut through the mess. It cut through everything. And by everything, I mean absolutely everything. He said, "Can you make this pose a bit easier on your body? Is there any way you can be just 10% more relaxed and still be in this pose? Don’t change a thing about what you are doing. Just turn off the strain, the desire to do it "right" and simply trust the limits of your body?" It would be one thing if his words remained isolated in that yogurt studio. I half suspected they would. But they didn’t. Everywhere I went, no matter what I was doing, his words kept visiting me: driving my car, doing massages, preparing music for performances, holding a bottle of beer, watching the glowing box, even—for god's sake—sleeping! Everywhere I went and everything I did: "is there any way you can relax, just 10%, into this?" The principal appeared universal, “loosen your grip and you create space.” It’s what would emerge to the surface when I loosened that grip that scared the shit out of me.

I find I am not alone in this. It’s where most of us live and the reason most of us live the lives we do. Because if we let go, we assume the whole house of cards will come crumbling down. But that’s not what he asked. He asked me, “Is there any way you can continue doing everything you’ve been doing—holding the things you are still holding—but just 10% more relaxed.” As my hold began to soften, so did my body. And so did my mind. A year later, I found I did not want the things I was once holding onto. I left my career, my home, my possessions. I know, right?! Big leap from wanting to collect a few sarcastic anecdotes!

Look, I still have a cigarette and something to drink every night. But I don’t hold them so tightly. I still have little idea what I’m going to do next with my life. But I’m not nearly as worried about it as I once was. I will admit that there are aspects of relaxing just 10% that feel like I am being irresponsible; the notion that I “must continue holding on” so that I can accomplish . . . but accomplish what? And to what avail? When I think of the poison that crept into my heart, and surfaced out into my life, all because of my inability to loosen my grip, there is little need to convince me any further. And hell, as I wrote this, I miraculously got up 4 times, to stretch, to eat, and to go for a walk. Who the hell does this? Apparently I do. And it does, it feels miraculous.

I’ve been doing yogurt now for over 2 years and the only reason I return is because I know I am an addict. I am addicted to holding onto that which I must let go of. I’m addicted to my fear of moving forward. And yogurt is my weekly reminder of this. I’m not saying this life is possible for someone like you. I mean, you’re probably just a mindless fool who goes to yogurt classes willy-nilly. But in the event that you are like the rest of us schmucks who have found ourselves in a mess of our own creating, now sober in the reality that we are no different than anyone else, I offer you some encouragement: my brother, my sister, loosen your grip just 10%. Turn off the strain and the desire to do it right. In time, what might surface may be some peace you have been looking for. Or, it may encourage you to take steps you had once been afraid of taking. Or, it may cost you friendships, friendships you needed to let go of a long time ago. It may even be the difference between living to the ripe old age of 92 instead of 65. I have no idea. No one does. But I do know your true nature is a hell of a lot cooler than the one you are showing everyone right now. And what is mind blowing is that it’s truly a breath away.

Alright you mindless fools, go to it!  But with just 10% less strain.

John Louviere

A special thank you to Scott Moore - yoga instructor / musician / friend.

Please keep up to date with John's life and music  (he has a new album!) at:

http://johnlouviere.bandcamp.com/

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Ever Get Stressed? Me too.

People often assume that because I teach yoga I never get stressed. I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth. I've co-taught Yoga for Anxiety courses, not because I never get stressed, but because sometimes I freak out too and sometimes I use the tools yoga has taught me to help me manage stress. Don't get me wrong, I don't pretend to always have the answer for stress. Despite my experience with meditation, breathing techniques, and stress-relieving yoga poses, sometimes I still find myself self-medicating with Ben and Jerry's.

 Here's what I do when I get stressed. First, I take a bunch of sighs out my mouth, mostly when I'm driving or alone and can really let it fly. I try to make it as dramatic as possible. I think this helps. I'll try to relax my jaw and notice whether my stress lessens even by just a couple of sighs. Sometimes when I’m really worked up, I'll sigh for 5 minutes or so. Next, I'll practice ujjayi breath, whisper breath. A lot of you know this but it's the breathing you use during yoga practice where you breathe in and out of your nostrils and put a little whisper in the back of your throat, elongating your breaths. It really helps. I've read something about this form of breathing activating your parasympathetic nervous system, the opposite of your flight or flight nervous response. Try it.

I will also do something physically active, like go to a yoga class, put on my running shoes and hit a trail, or even just take a 10 minute walk around the block, even if I don't have the time to do so. It's incredible how my perception changes when I get outside or at least get moving for a bit. Wallace Stevens once wrote, "Sometimes the truth depends upon a walk around the lake." Yoga explores the relationship between mind and body. If my body can relax, maybe my mind can follow. Putting some endorphins in my body and some oxygen in my brain is a great way to make me feel good and clear my mind.

Next, I'll actually look the bull straight into the eyes and see it for what it is. I'll try a meditation technique where I try to adopt the role as the observer rather than the one who is oppressed by stress. The other day, I felt like I was feeling a lot of stress and caught myself trying to avoid it or pretend it wasn't there. I had a few minutes to meditate and instead of mentally escaping it, I decided to look at it straight on. I closed my eyes and noticed how my body felt in response to the stress. I observed the images in my mind and emotions in my heart and thoughts in my brain, everything associated with this stress and tried to just observe it rather than fix it. As I looked inside, this feeling inside me felt like a cold, jagged, metal plate along my chest. It felt sharp and protruding. The more I looked at it, the more I realized that what I was feeling was more like a plate of armor than oppressive stress. It felt less like worry and more like my assertive warrior/hunter part of myself who is on full-alert with all my senses alert, my tomahawks drawn and all my focus and faculties ready to take on this adventure of life. Suddenly I noticed this feeling as more of a protection for my heart rather than an enemy to my heart. After my meditation, I still felt this same energy in my chest but with the added feeling of gratitude for what I was feeling. I need that protection . Through my meditation, my observation, I was able to see this feeling for what it was instead of trying to avoid it and worry about the monster I felt was breathing down my neck.

I can assure you I'll continue to use these techniques throughout my life. Maybe you can use some of these techniques if you find yourself freaking out about anything. Try to do some breathing techniques, come to a yoga class, or try to meditate. I realize, too, that the only thing yoga class does not incorporate is the Ben and Jerry's therapy. Maybe after class we should go and get some ice cream.

What are the tools that help you work with stress? Please leave a comment below.

There Is . . . No Spoon

Seeing Clearly

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The Yoga Sutras is a book written by an ancient yoga scholar, Patanjali, around 200 AD and outlines much of the philosophy yoga.

A major principle in the Yoga Sutras is the principle of Avidya, or misapprehension. In Sanskrit, the word Vidya means to see clearly. Avidya is the opposite of clear seeing.

Unfortunately our human experience is rife with Avidya, this unclear seeing. I believe that one of our major lessons in this earthly existence is to learn to recognize our Avidya and enlighten ourselves by simply learning to see clearly and by so doing expand our sense of Self.  

Seeing Clearly Precedes Good Judgement

Seeing clearly precedes good judgment. The world exists. Things just are. We all translate what is and color it with judgment: good, bad, right, wrong. Often, our judgment of the world, our misapprehension, prevents us from seeing what is true and makes us see only what we believe about what we see.

An old story goes like this: Once, a man was walking through the jungle at night and was very afraid of being eaten by a tiger. He heard something coming toward him and knew that it was a tiger so he pulled out his knife. When the animal stepped out onto the path in front of him, he immediately stabbed it and it fell dead. Only after he killed it did he realize that he had killed his best friend. His Avidya prevented him from seeing what truly was and caused death and suffering.   

With the practice of yoga we can learn to place a little space between events and judgment. With this space between action and reaction, we reduce our Avidya by practicing seeing things as they are and not how we judge them. The principle of reducing our Avidya is not about being emotionless and dispassionate, but rather learning to stop our judgment for just a moment and attempt to see things as they are before making a mindful next step. 

A Simple Meditation Technique

A simple but effective way of practicing Vidya, clear seeing, is by doing a simple form of meditation which I learned from one of my teachers, Donna Farhi, which I call the “There Is Practice.” You can do this anywhere and while doing anything but one way to do it is by simply sitting comfortably with a cushion on the floor (a chair or couch works nice, too).

Meditations for Sleep

Close your eyes, and acknowledge all the things you are currently experiencing with the phrase “There Is” in your mind.  "There is the sound of traffic. There is apprehension. There is a 20-pound cat sitting in my lap and licking my big toe." Anything you sense, feel, think, do, point to it with the phrase, "There Is . . . ."

Try to erase the personal pronouns I, me, or my from what you perceive. Erasing personal pronouns for a stint tends to change our understanding of what is as something that is more than what is only in relationship to ourselves.

Though simple in application, this practice is profound in its understanding. It’s profound because this practice helps us expand our identity from identifying with the smaller self as related to the experiences we have, i.e. “I hear the sound of the clock,” to a larger Self that includes everything, i.e., “I am the sound of the clock.” The “There Is Practice” is about seeing things just how they are without our own personal judgment getting in the way. It allows permission for the world to be the way it is and not just the way my smaller self thinks it should be. I like to set a timer and practice until the timer rings. Start with 10 minutes and increase the time as you like.

I invite you to practice Vidya this week by coming to yoga and also practicing the “There Is Practice.” With more accurate perception, we will be less reactive and more mindful in our decisions. We will find an expansiveness of being. With practices like yoga and the “There Is Practice” we reduce our Avidya and begin to see the world and what really is.

Affogato: The Dessert of the Year

affogato italy coffee icecream

Personally, it’s been one helluva year! This is the year I discovered the affogato. For those who have not heard of this perfect Italian dessert, let me explain. An affogato is espresso—aromatic, rich, and earthy—in a cup large enough to accompany a dollop of delicious, sweet, and creamy gelato. Buenísimo!  That’s affogato. I love affogato because it celebrates the bitter and the sweet, the hot and the cold, in a way that is balanced and deliciously satisfying.

My biggest affogato moment in my life happened this this year when I closed two yoga studios exactly one week before I married the love of my life. Ever noticed how kick-ass and ass-kicking have two totally different meanings? That’s affogato. While I was going through this roller coaster of events in my life, I could almost hear a voice from above saying, “Please keep your arms and legs in the ride at all times.” One afternoon, earlier this year when I was driving home from teaching, I was heavy hearted, worried, and stressed about the business. I looked up into the sky and swear I saw a cloud that looked exactly like God’s hand was offering me a fist-bump. Serious! It was a message like, “Bro! I know, wild ride. But don’t worry, I ga-chew.” And you know what? Despite the bitter worry and heart-break of closing my studios, I’m doing better than ever, moving forward in my career with a sweet stride, and thriving in a way that I could never have imagined. And what’s more important than business is that I’m completely thrilled to be exploring this amazing new marriage with a truly incredible woman. I’m setting off on this adventure expecting both the kick-ass and the ass-kicking moments, the sublime and the struggle. It’s with the woman I adore, the woman with whom I expect to spend the rest of my many years, right up until the day we decide to roll our motorized wheelchairs into an active volcano together. Now THAT’S affogato!

Holding two extremes together has really been my overall lesson this year. Moments like when my truck got stolen along with my Chubby Hula Dancer adhered to the dash and tons of people came together to help me out and offer me their support. Now, my truck and Chubby Hula Dancer are celebrities. Kind people I don’t even know stop me in the store and tell me that they are happy that I got my truck back. The struggle of getting my truck stolen and finally returned reminded me not about how selfish people can be that they would steal my ride, but how good, generous, and loving people are in the face of a personal fiasco.

Another affogato moment this year was fulfilling the dream I’d had for several years to host one of my most influential teachers, Dr. Richard Miller, for a weekend of incredible practices and teachings about yoga nidra. Practices like yoga nidra teach me that life is neither all bitter nor all sweet but something bigger than both. More poignantly, yoga nidra teaches me that my true identity is both the bitter and the sweet and therefore fundamentally large enough to hold either and both when they come. After Richard Miller’s final session, I stuck around the studio to conduct a meeting so I could inform all the studio’s teachers and staff that we were going out of business. Later that evening, I was attending a special good-bye dinner with Richard. He asked me why I had gathered all my teachers after his last session. I told him that I’d just announced to all my teachers and staff that we were closing the studio. He paused for a moment as a big smile spread across his face. He leaned into me and said, almost in a whisper, “congratulations!”  He understood that my struggle of closing the studio was inconsequential compared to an exciting new journey of personal growth and expansion without it. It reminds me of Matsuo Basho who said, “The moon is brighter since the barn burned.” Yoga and mindfulness has taught me that the beauty of life comprises the largeness of the entire experience, good and bad. Just enjoying the sweet isn’t large enough. Ananda means beyond joy. It means seeing the whole mind-blowing experience as complete and perfect. Balanced.

Warrior II poses helps remind me of the affogato nature of life. To me, Warrior II represents the warrior pulling back the bow string and focusing forward at what you want, where you’re going, and how you’re getting there. Hitting your target is a matter of balancing opposites. A master archer will unify their mind with the target. To find the still-point to release their arrow, they must ride the dance of the breath so as to release the arrow in that fleeting moment of stillness after the exhale. If the archer is too rigid, they’ll shake and won’t have a clear vision of the target. If the archer is too loose they’ll not have the stability to keep the bow steady. The balance is found somewhere between effort and ease. Affogato!

As you’re summing up 2014 and preparing for 2015, remember that just like in Warrior II, you must keep your focus on what you want, where you’re going, and how you’re getting there. Find the rhythm of your breath and balance effort and ease and you’ve got the winning chemistry that is ensure that you hit your mark. Remember that life is the beautiful balance of opposites.

What were your affogato moments this year? How do you think appreciating this truth can help you prepare for the next year? Please add your voice by leaving a comment below.

And if ever life feels like an official ass-kicker, try a kick-ass affogato at my favorite family-owned Italian restaurant, Cannella’s, at 204 East 500 South in Salt Lake City. Their veggie lasagna is also out of this world.

So I raise this affogato cup to you all and toast to the death of 2014 and the birth of 2015. To the bitter and the sweet!

Jazz For Jesus

Photo by Josh Terry of Wounded Mosquito.Com

Photo by Josh Terry of Wounded Mosquito.Com

You know what I like about the Little Drummer Boy? Well, besides a departure from the tired story of a drummer's death by tour bus or pyrotechnics accident, I like that the only thing this cat had to offer to God was some sweet beats; he gave what he had and he did his best, and that was better than good enough for the Lord of Lords.

Once I dreamed I was standing in heaven next to the gods of jazz Chet Baker, Charlie Parker, and Bill Evans when Jesus walked by. I play sax but Bird (Charlie Parker) was already putting down so I picked up what was left, bass. We saw Jesus coming and we set in and got serious so that as Jesus walked by we were playing our hearts out, we were swinging for the cat of cats, J.C., and I'm not talking John Coltrane (even though he is considered a saint – he even has a church devoted to nothing but him) but the one and only J.C. These gods of jazz and me, subbing on bass, were playing our hearts out. And it was enough, enough to honor God.

Something my teacher taught me years ago was that if you take one step toward Spirit, Spirit takes a thousand steps toward you. All these years I've sought to understand that but I think that the Little Drummer Boy sums it up perfectly. When we show up to practice, we offer whatever we've got: quantity doesn't matter, flexibility doesn't matter, strength doesn't matter. What matters is that you offer what you've got. Anything else, more or less, would be an inappropriate offering. I believe that God comes in many forms, and what does God care if your offering comes in the form of Downward Facing Dog or Cobra Pose, or a swinging jazz lick? Show up and give it your best. Write off the rest.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone.

What We Need Is Here

We are born as perfect beings who are nothing but awareness of the world around us. As newborns we come out, look around, see our own hand and think, “What the hell is that thing, and how does it relate to me?” As infants, we make no distinction between the world and ourselves. According to our infant mind, it’s all just me. It’s not until we are 6-9 months old that we start to individuate from the rest of the world. As we grow up, we naturally become more entrenched with the experience of being separate. We may spend our entire lives practicing how to get back to that place we knew when we were born. And after a lifetime of practice, if we do arrive back to that same awareness, we do so as the result of a lifetime of wisdom and experience, not from innocence or naiveté. It’s like a winding staircase; we end up facing the same direction but one degree higher, rising in our development toward our highest potential.

Yoga is one method that teaches us how to get back to our True Nature. Yoga is a process of re-membering, of yoking body, mind, spirit, and ourselves together as whole beings, united as one collective self. Through the process, we rediscover our True Nature, the way we knew the world as infants. I love the idea that what we are looking for is already within us. All we need to do is to remove the barnacles of false identity, the layers that prevent us from seeing our own True Nature. Imagine that we are like mummies, wrapped in dusty layers which prevent us from seeing our true form. These layers may represent being out of tune with our bodies, ignorance or misunderstanding (called avidya in Sanskrit), and a misdirected sense that we are separate from everything else. Perhaps we the form of our wrappings gives us the outline, a general sense of our true form, but let’s not mistake the wrappings for the being of light the lies beneath them. By practices like yoga and meditation, we start to remove the layers. Once in a while we might see all the way down, past the layers that obfuscate our true form. And even if we never get the wrappings all the way off, I don’t know that I will, we eventually get enough of an idea of what’s underneath them to understand our True Nature. When we gain that sort of insight about ourselves, we’ll begin to look around to others, as well as the whole world, and see that same light everywhere. With practice, we won’t even see the wrappings anymore. We’ll only see the magic being of light beneath.

This may seem like a lofty practice, right? It is. It may only take you your entire life to make a just little headway toward this understanding of your True Nature. But I would also wager that you have already had many experiences where you have glimpsed your radiant True Nature, that being of light that is you and the world around you. Maybe it was during a yoga class, perhaps while on the perfect trail run, or while making love. Or maybe it was when a child was born and you experienced that perfection of this little being as a naked witness to the world. Perhaps it reminded you of the same thing within yourself.

This week, I invite you to do those things that remove the layers that keep you from experiencing your own true nature. Come to yoga, spend an extra 10 minutes meditating, or maybe turn off the TV and just be with the person you love. Perhaps open your heart, means, and energy to those who need them and find how they too are also part of you. Discover that what you’re looking for already exists within you.

I’ll see you in yoga this week.

 

What We Need I Here

Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.

~Wendell Berry

One Small Step

 

I have a good friend who started yoga about two years ago. He was naturally skeptical about all the spiritual mumbo-jumbo he associated with yoga but as a body worker, he felt he needed to do something gentle to help heal his own overworked body. So he started to practice yoga, or yogurt as he called it—he refused to even take the name very seriously. And two years later, he’s still doing it because as for many of us, he sees the monumental benefits that come from the small steps of a regular practice.

At first, my friend would scoff at some of the more intense poses like arm balances and the like. Regardless, my friend continued to come to practice and continued to give these challenging poses his best shot because he understood that it’s not the poses that we are trying to achieve, but rather the principles that underlie those poses, principles like not taking yourself so seriously, and ones like even if you think a pose is impossible, show up and give it your best shot anyway. Maybe he has stuck with yoga because these are some of the same principles that he felt he could apply to the practice of living life.

A few weeks ago while I was teaching a challenging pose in class, I looked over and guess who was rocking that pose? It was my skeptical yoga friend who rarely misses my Monday and Friday night classes. As we were enjoying a friends Thanksgiving this past week, my friend was talking to me about his yoga practice. He said in effect, “I have been coming regularly to class for almost two years and have enjoyed taking these small steps, not really even noticing my own growth. Then one day I look at myself and I’m doing a pose that I thought would have been completely impossible when I started doing yoga.” That challenging pose isn’t the point. What’s important is the many small steps that we are making in this moment. The challenging pose is just an interesting mile marker along our path to self-discovery.

The lesson of one small step is a grand lesson for me. Whether in our regular yoga practice or our daily eating habits or regular spiritual practice, it’s the small, daily steps that are the individual bricks that in time build the grand temple. There are truths that can ONLY be learned by regular practice over time. Even if someone told you the answer you would not appreciate nor understand it.  You need those small, daily steps.

What is the small step that you can make today? I invite you to commit to some small step that you can make every day or every week that you know will build you into the person you want to become.

I hope to see you in class.

Grab Kleenex and Cary On

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Here it is. It’s the week of Thanksgiving. The yoga teaching around Thanksgiving comes through the Sanskrit teaching in the Yoga Sutras called Santosha which means contentment or gratitude. I love this time of year because it focuses me on the healing power of gratitude. Every morning I have a ritual of doing some breathing exercises then thinking of as many things as I can for which I’m grateful. It’s such an amazing way to start the day! Another way of putting language to gratitude is to list everything that I love. I often use “I’m grateful” or “I love” to really mean the same thing. This is the message that often gets raw and dribbly.

So, with Kleenex in hand . . . deep breath . . .

I have found the LOVE OF MY LIFE and had the deep pleasure of marrying her this summer. I love, love, love, her and the life that we are forming together. I love her for her beauty, smarts, humor, and the fact that she can see and celebrate the best parts of me. I want to step up as a man and a human being to honor her incredible capacity. I love the life we are creating together and can’t wait to be by her side for the next 80 years. I love you, Seneca. Love is the best!

I love yoga. It’s so provocative in a way that sort of slaps me up-side the head and makes me pay attention, in the way that only a really good friend can do. I have revelation after revelation due to this practice and I suppose that’s why I keep writing about it and teaching it. I love to teach yoga. Wow, who knew that this stressed out high school band geek (band president, even) would be the one standing out in front of people and reminding them to breathe and understand themselves. Yoga found me and I’m so grateful for everything that yoga has taught me about myself and the world. I’m thrilled to be able to work in a career where I get to connect with people and touch their lives as they touch mine.

I’m grateful for my body. It’s healthy and strong and brings me enormous joy.

I’m grateful for running. I’m here to tell you, there is nothing better than a good solid trail run with a couple of hours to burn, a whole heap of pod casts cued up on the ole iPod, and a ProBar and a couple of water bottles strapped to me. I truly feel exhilarated when I run, almost like I’m flying.

I love sitting around the table with tight friends sharing a meal and laughing or crying between bites as simmer in the soup of rich friendship.

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I love to play my saxophone. Every first Friday of the month I play with my jazz group, Jazz Brulee at the Bayou. It’s so much fun throwin’ down with those cats. I had a moment this year that I’ll never forget. I was up on stage at the Canyons Amphitheatre with my rockin’ R&B band, The Soulistics, in front around 6 thousand people and it came time for my solo. In this song (Rock Steady by Aretha) the entire band builds and builds and finally cuts out in order to for me to start my solo. Alone, I began with this sexy, loud, high, high, high note that I didn’t think I would ever be able to land in my life while I was a high school band geek, let alone with such clarity and power. Then I ripped out a great solo that morphed into a group imropv session with the horn section. Damn, that was incredible! I’m grateful for such thrilling opportunities.

I’m so grateful for my teachers: yoga teachers, music teachers, and life teachers. I expect to always be learning my whole life long. I’m so grateful for those who are willing to help show me the way.

I have a wonderful family. My family has been such a great support to me over the years. I have an incredible twin brother, awesome sisters, and great parents. I also have a brand-new family that I adopted when I married Seneca. They are as good to me as my own family. Thank you. I have a great step son and I’m grateful for the opportunity I had recently to teach him how to drive a stick in my rickety truck. I’ve been waiting for decades to be able to do that! He’s good and everything he does so it was no surprise that he picked this up right away and is itching to now drive off across town to visit his girlfriend. I’m grateful for that step-dad/step-son moment.

I’m grateful for A-lister friends. You’re reading this, I know, and I tear up thinking about how you show up for me time and time and time again. Thank you for looking into my eyes with love and tenderness as I blather about how parts of my life are burning down. Thank you for laughing with me when my life is more absurd than fiction. Thank you for celebrating with me when my life is ecstatic. And thanks for allowing me to do the same. Even if I don’t see you every day, you hold a special place in my heart and I know that I’m kickin’ around in yours too. I love you! And if you are wondering if you’re an A-lister, you are.

I’m so grateful for the opportunities to grow and learn and optimize everything that I have been given. I believe that some have the gift and others just have tenacity to learn it through brute effort. I feel like I’m of the latter sort. Some of those lessons are really hard but in the end I’m grateful that I get to pick myself up, brush myself off, and take another go at it. I’m grateful for the opportunity to grow and still be picking myself up.

I’m grateful to be working at Centered City. I’m grateful that after Prana closed, I still get to do the thing I love most which is to teach yoga. I’m grateful for the warm welcome I received when I came back, even though I left CCY to open Prana. I’m grateful for everyone who comes to my classes. I’m grateful for the wonderful friends and teachers who are there.

I’m grateful that I have a truck that takes me around where I need to go; this old bucket of rust that starts almost every time I want it too (almost, cuz she likes to keep me appreciative). I’m even more grateful after having had my truck STOLEN this year then getting it back, but not before wonderful friends, Christy and Brian, sold me their awesome Forester (now named Sherm) for a steal. After some minor repairs she runs better now than she has in years. So now Sennie and I have two cars that both run and didn’t cost us a limb. I’m so grateful for all of your concern and well-wishes during that whole drama. People I don’t even know will stop me in the store and tell me that they are happy I got my car back. Incredible. You people are amazing!

I’m grateful for healthy and delicious food to eat, clean water to drink, air to breathe, and a nice warm shower. I’m grateful for a cozy bed. I’m grateful for a wonderful little house I get to share with Sennie and Liam, my step-son, a really wonderful young man.

I’m so damn grateful to YOU! Seriously. You opened up this newsletter or strolled over to my blog to read this. And you’re STILL reading. I’m so touched by your support and encouragement to find my purpose on this amazing earth and go for it and put myself out there. I do because you do. I love to see you in class and at my retreats. I love to read your emails and hear your stories. I really want to share all of the incredible things you share with me with others. Your stories and words of wisdom are so poignant that I want you to share them. Please, please, please, go comment on my blog below and share a few things that you are grateful for.

Do it! Make a list of your own. Grab a box of Kleenex and then share it with those people to whom you are the most grateful . . . and some strangers too! Notice for yourself how healing gratitude is. Notice how much those lesser things just don’t matter as much after you do so.

 Comment below!


Learning To Practice


A reporter once asked a successful banking executive, “What has been the key to your success?” The exec responded, “Two words.” The reporter asked, “What are those two words?” “Good decisions,” said the exec. “How did you learn to make those good decisions?” asked the reporter. “One word,” said the exec. The reporter asked, “What is that one word?” “Experience,” said the exec.” “And how did you gain experience?” asked the reporter. “Two Words.” “Which are?” asked the reporter. “Bad decisions,” said the exec decisively.

The secret to his success was the tutelage of his mistakes. It took the practice of making wrong decisions in order to learn how to make right ones. This idea of practice is the most fundamental directive in all of yoga. There is no yoga performance. There is no yoga perfection. There is only practice. Like one wise teacher told me: “There is no correct or incorrect way to do yoga. There is only more or less skillful as you learn and experience along the way.”

Many of us are so afraid to fail, to make mistakes, that we never even begin the journey. We don’t dare to dream. Before we can ever learn from the experience, we pre-empt our growth and ensure our failure by refusing to ever get off the couch. At least that way, we justify, our failure won’t be so public. The point is that there is no failure. There is only this opportunity to grow and learn. I hated yoga at first because I felt it only showed me all the places where I was weak. As I continued to practice, those weaknesses became strengths. Then I found NEW weaknesses. And the cycle continues, but now I get it. That’s the point. There will always be somewhere new to journey, new lessons to learn and there will always be a trail leading back to the miles of lessons I’ve just learned.

More than four years ago, I took a big risk to leave security and comfort and join some partners for the chance to build a business, Prana Yoga, which eventually became two yoga studios. We did it! We all did together and I can’t even begin to express the challenges we all experienced while we watched that thing grow. I earned a Ph.D. from the School of Hard Knocks by owning that business, I tell you what. Those business were incredible successes, despite the fact that they both closed this year. One thing I learned is that there are several levels of success. I’m still growing and learning from that business as I continue put out the fires. Now, I see the equation: Risk+worry+work+growth=invaluable experience. I can’t promise that I’ll open another yoga studio, but I know that going forward I will make increasingly smarter decisions. I can promise you two things. First, I promise that I have yet many more mistakes waiting for me, some of them are probably big ones. Second, I promise that by learning from my mistakes, it will take larger and larger demons to pull me down. There is an extremely redemptive poem by Rilke called The Man Watching, where in the last few lines he says:

Winning does not tempt that man. 
This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively, 
by constantly greater beings.

And when ever I catch myself feeling like life’s beating me down, I remember the soreness in my muscles is due to the fact that they are becoming stronger as I practice wrestling with the challenges of life.

This week I invite you to enjoy the notion of practice. This is all just practice. I invite you to remember your big dreams. There’s no such thing as crazy, except for staying on the couch. Come on! What are you afraid to do? You all have homework: on the comments section of my blog, please write what you would do if you had no fear that you would fail. You can be anonymous or sign it, but write it down. Read what other people would do and see how brilliant people are. Who’s going to be the first brave person to write? Will it be you?

See you at practice.


Yoga Emergency!

It's a few years back. I'm traveling home from Lander, Wyoming after a weekend of teaching some fantastic workshops. I’m riding with my friend Tam and we’re traveling over the pass toward Rock Springs when we hit a full-assault blizzard with 65 mph winds which trying its best to blow us off the road. We decide to call this stretch 32 miles of hell, especially after we saw the trailer that had just flipped. White knuckled at the wheel, Tam tries to calm her nerves by singing along to The Grateful Dead (irony isn't lost on me). She is breathing sighs of relief between choruses. After we reach the summit and start to head down the other side of the hill, the worst part is over and Tam turns outright giddy with relief.  

Whether it's a tricky spot in winter driving or something else in life, sooner or later we are bound to run into a tricky sitch. When these inevitable crises do occur, what do you have in your yoga first-aid kit? Here are a few suggestions of things you might want to have as a quick go-to that could help in tricky times to keep you going in the clutch moments when you've got to be on or when life's throws you a curve.

First, off: presence. Open your eyes. Times like this make you wake up from that anesthetized state. There is no cruise control, here. If you've practiced presence in meditation or yoga, it will be easier to really be on when you need to be. If not, no time like the present (I have a pun permit, so back off). Notice what's going on around you. Even when things are really tough, notice what's going on in your body. Take a moment, close your eyes (unless you're driving through a blizzard) and allow yourself to actually feel all of your body's sensation, all your emotions, thoughts, etc. without the need to change it. It's always surprising to me how readily this practice of seeing things objectively, even for a brief moment, helps me develop a clearer perspective of my problems.

Second: breathe! Ujjaiyi breath, the whisper breath we practice in yoga, is done by breathing in and out through the nostrils and slightly constricting the breath in the throat to feel and hear a whisper. It is one of the most effective things I know to lower anxiety levels and oxygenate the body to perform optimally. If you want to watch a video on YouTube of the one and only Matt Newman at the old Prana Yoga space demonstrating this technique, click here.

Third: do grounding poses like forward folds and seated or lying-down twists. They ground the nervous system and reduce tension from the body. Any poses that reduce muscular tension (stretches) are great to reduce stress and make you feel good. Remember body and mind are connected, so release tension from your muscles and watch how tension leaves from other parts too. Stretchy poses send endorphins running through your body and give you a mega-dose of Feel Good when life is crazy.

Fourth: take care of yourself. Even if you feel like you don't have time for anything superfluous, keeping yourself emotionally, mentally, and physically well is not superfluous. Too much relies on you being on and therefore you must keep your body/mind/spirit happy. This might mean taking the morning off and strolling through Red Butte Gardens or take a jaunt into Hatch Family Chocolates (8th Ave between D and E St.) for a Peanut Butter Truffle. Eat well with simple and nourishing meals (with occasional chocolate). Get enough sleep. Especially in times of crisis, do something for yourself to replenish the source so you have something to give back to everything that needs you. Otherwise, others will have to take care of you. Do it for yourself.

Fifth: simplify. Kindly say no to that extra social engagement. Stop trying to be perfect. Minimize and simplify. 

Sixth: if you ever need a yoga 911, go to my web site and click on the yoga nidra tab. You can listen immediately to a recording of a guided mediation that will calm you down and give you some clarity to help you go on through your day with grounded clarity. 

Finally, The House Martins help. If you don't know this band, check them out here. When I feel like life has slapped me down, this band has always helped me get back up. M-m. Love that band. 

 What is in your yoga first-aid kit? Please comment here and add let us know what you do in a yoga emergency. See what others are saying.

 Take care of yourself!

 

Woo-Hoo! Can I get a witness?!

 

Welcome to Scott Moore Yoga!

Friends!   I!   Am!   So!   Excited!

This website represents a new chapter in my teaching, in my career, in my life.Friends, I'm looking forward into my own future and I gotta tell ya, it's lookin' goooood!

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 I've grown immensely in these last few years. Phew! I've learned volumes about myself, about yoga, about business, about people, about how incredible y’all are, and how good and beautiful this world is.  

 Instead of pencil marks on the kitchen wall, my growth is being measured in part with my brand new website. There is so much I want to offer and this site is now a hub for all of it. On my site you can stay up to date with regular offerings on my blog. You can sign up for my newsletter. You’ll see info about retreats that I'm thrilled to be offering, including day-retreats at Snowbird, a yoga retreat with Kim Dastrup in Spain, and other exciting retreats that are in the planning stages. You can see my different offerings from private sessions, private group sessions, Girls’ Night Out sessions, etc. I'm also ecstatic to be offering a Teacher Mentoring section on my blog. I'm always growing and learning both as a practitioner and as a teacher. I'm passionate about learning to teach well and would love to engage other teachers in doing likewise.  

 In the near future, I will be traveling to teach more and I’ll be posting about that and listing those places and dates. You'll soon have a plethora of audio and video offerings on the web, too. And I continue to be committed to teaching awesome public, local classes at Centered City Yoga . Please join me.  

 Welcome and stay tuned, friends. Thank you for all your support and love currently and over the years. It's been a wild and fun ride and I'm happy to have had you with me at my side.  

 I invite you to go to my site and take a cyber stroll. It's not perfect or complete but it's there. Stay tuned as things evolve!