Chanting A Love Supreme

Gayatri Mantra:  

Om, Bhur bhuvah svah

tat savitur vareniyam

bhargo devasya dhimahi

dhiyo yo nah prachodayat 

Translation:

Everything on the Earth and in the sky and in between is arising from one effulgent source. If my thoughts, words, and deeds reflected a complete understanding of this, I would be the peace I am seeking in this moment.

Photo by Joshua Terry woundedmosquito.com

There is a mantra that I've been working to understand for several years. It's The Gayatri Mantra, one of the oldest mantras in existence. It's more than 12 thousand years old and comes from the Rigveda, an ancient Sanskrit text containing hymns and mantras that are mythological and poetic accounts of the origin of the world. I struggle to understand it because it suggests that when I'm feeling freaked out by something, I already have peace or am the peace that I feel I lack. Likewise, this mantra suggests that somehow through one Source, we are everything else. And to any mind that is caught up in limited a conception of Self, this is ridiculous.

One experience I had that helped me to understand this mantra a little better happened about three or four years ago while I was on an early-morning run in Hawaii. Because my body was used to a different time zone, I was up and running while most of everybody else was sleeping. On that beautiful morning, I ran along a paved trail that contours the ocean and stretches for miles. All the elements including myself were harmonized to make a perfect storm of physical, mental, and spiritual bliss. My mind was clear, the weather, temperature, altitude and humidity were all perfect. As I ran, my mind opened up to incredible clarity.

In this clarity, I began processing some of the jazz improve theory that my sax teacher had been teaching me, specifically regarding works by John Coltrane. My feet tapped along the trail and my lungs bellowed the humid ocean-air while my mind thought about scales, intervals, harmonics, chords, and all of the underlying structure of jazz. My sax teacher tells me that if I want to find those notes coming out of my horn, I have to not only feel them in my soul, but I also gotta know what is possible to feel and that takes a little head work. With all this mental clarity some fairly complex music theory simply started to make sense to me. Deeper musical ideas began to percolate to my mental surface causing new lights to go on. I was figuring it out and it was happening without any teacher or even the reference of my sax or even music paper. I realized that somehow, a lot of this understanding was already in there.

Amazed at these musical revelations, an immense thought dawned upon me: even if it's waaaay down there, there is a John Coltrane in me somewhere. The perfect run connected me to Source, even just a little bit, and that led me to somehow understand Coltrane a little better. If I truly understood the connection of all things, if I were truly tapped into Source like the Gayatri Mantra suggests, I'd be able to access that same power, soul, and knowledge that John Coltrane did. Me! John Coltrane!

Coltrane was connected to Source. He demonstrates this plainly in his most spiritual work, some say the most spiritual of all of jazz, his album called A Love Supreme. In it he makes circles both in the arc of the sound in music as well as in its form; this chord and this phrase makes a logical, mathematical, and aurally pleasing transition to the next, and the next until the formula causes it to arrive back to where it started. Just as you might hear Brahman priests chanting the Gayatri Mantra from the Rigveda, in this recording you hear these priests of jazz chant, "A Love Supreme" repeatedly in the background evoking Source. You see, in certain disciplines initiates get a new name. In yoga your name might become Yogananda, or Ram Das, for jazz it might be Trane or Bird. I believe that in the métier of transcendent jazz (read: heaven), God was given the nickname, A Love Supreme. Fitting. I think God uses it as a Facebook handle, or something. In part, Coltrane's message was that everything is inscribed within A Love Supreme. A Love Supreme is The Effulgent Source mentioned in the Gayatri Mantra and to fully comprehend this Source means to understand everything, including peace, including jazz, including yourself. This is enlightenment and whether your path there incorporated practicing either poses or jazz theory or anything else, you still end up at the same place.

Alice Coltrane, J.C.'s wife at the time, said that one day Trane locked himself in the attic and didn't come down for three days. He spent the entire time meditating (understand that Coltrane meditated with his horn in his mouth) and when he came down, I imagine that it was like Moses coming down from the mountain after talking to God, he looked at his wife and said, "I've got it!" A few days later he was in the studio with a few hand-picked musicians to record A Love Supreme, one of the greatest pieces of music ever conceived. We are still chanting the Gayatri Mantra 12 thousand years later. I hope people are chanting A Love Supreme, or at lease spinning the record, 12 thousand years from now.

Understanding, even theoretically, that knowing Source means to know everything, doesn't discount the hours, weeks, years, and lifetimes of work and practice necessary to get there, but still the idea is provocative that our work isn't to build or gain anything new, rather to dismantle that which prevents us from seeing what's already there. What we practice in yoga is paying attention and we use breath, poses, and mediation to open our eyes and to take off the bandages to reveal what's underneath.

Another reference to understanding this universal Source comes from the story about the day Zen came to be. It is said that long ago an assembly gathered to hear the Buddha's Dharma talk. Instead of a discourse, The Buddha simply held up a flower saying nothing. He stayed like that for a long time much to the confusion of most everyone. Only the sage Mahakashyapa understood, and noted it with a wry smile. With his flower, the Buddha was saying that which could not be spoken by words. He was showing the assembly that Being or Reality had no boundaries and was found in everything, including a flower, and to even try to define Being or Reality by words would create a boundary for something that had none. Anything defined would have been a contradiction yet at the same time he was revealing that which was everywhere, if your understanding would allow you to see. "If my thoughts words and deeds reflected a complete understanding of this unity," . . . I would realize that I'm no different than this flower, or my music, or you, and I would understand that peace is already within me. And yet to understand this, like myriad myths throughout history also suggest, it might take me traveling the entire world to realize that what I was searching for was at home all along, locked within the vault of my heart.

Join me this week as we practice understanding the Gayatri Mantra better and practice unraveling anything that would prevent us from seeing our own Effulgent Source, our True Nature, our Love Supreme. And since it is said that Visvamitra was the one who gave us the Gayatri Mantra, we'll work on exploring Reality through Visvamitrasana. Speaking of "getting Real," once I start working on my inflexible hamstrings, something necessary for that pose, things get real, really fast.

I suggest making the time to listen to A Love Supreme this week. It's an incredible and historic piece of music.

Also, speaking of the saxophone, if you're in interested in coming to see me and my band, The Soulistics, perform, we have an exciting summer line up. Click here to check out our next performance!

Here are a few poems that also speak to connection and revelation to Self and Source.

Excerpt from Prelude

Two miles I had to walk along the fields

Before I reach'd my home. Magnificent          330

The Morning was, a memorable pomp,

More glorious than I ever had beheld;

The Sea was laughing at a distance; all

The solid Mountains were as bright as clouds,

Grain-tinctured, drench'd in empyrean light;    335

And, in the meadows and the lower grounds,

Was all the sweetness of a common dawn,

Dews, vapours, and the melody of birds,

And Labourers going forth into the fields.

--Ah! need I say, dear Friend, that to the brim             340

My heart was full; I made no vows, but vows

Were then made for me; bond unknown to me

Was given, that I should be, else sinning greatly,

A dedicated Spirit. On I walk'd

In blessedness which even yet remains.                    345

~ William Wordsworth

Initiation, II

 At the crossroads, hens scratched circles
into the white dust. There was a shop
where I bought coffee and eggs, coarse-grained
chocolate almost too sweet to eat.
When I walked up the road, the string sack
heavy on my arm, I thought
that my legs could take me anywhere,
into any country, any life.
The air, dazzling as sand, grew dense
with light: bougainvillea spilled
over the salmon walls, the road
veered into the ravine. The world
could be those colors, the mangoes,
the melons, the avocado evenings
releasing their circles of moon.
I climbed the pink stairs, entered
the house as calm and ephemeral
as my own certainty:
this is my house, my key,
my hand with its new lines.
I am as old as I will ever be.

~Nina Bogin

Life's Too Short To Be A "Hater"

We use a word today, a great word, a word that didn’t exist back in the day, especially in the way we use it now. That word? Hater. Yeah, a hater is someone who is often contrary not only to you and what you’re about but more often than not, chronically grumpy about the world. For a hater, there is an unlimited supply of things to complain about, gripe about, or criticize. They see the world through hater-colored glasses. You know anybody like this? Worse, do you ever find yourself resembling a hater? Reminds me of those two dudes in The Muppet Show who sit up in peanut gallery and spit out insults and complaints like it were an art form?

Well, having a hating attitude can be terminal. It can be an insidious habit that will canker your heart.  And if you’re not a hater, than chances are that you know one, right? We all know someone who we like, maybe even love, but who can be so chronically cantankerous that we find ourselves limiting our exposure to them.

The Yoga Sutras talk about haters. Maybe not directly but if you read between the lines you can see it in there. Specifically, the sutras talk about the opposite quality of a hater. The term is Samtosha and refers to the spiritual practice of contentment and seeing the world as abundant and perfect in its imperfections. Samtosha means to decide to be content with what you have and see the world through gratitude-colored glasses, to choose to be cool with what life has thrown you. Sure, we will always hope and strive for a bright future, but along the way we can decide that we are happy with this, now. It’s about presence. Samtosha is a spiritual practice and belongs in yoga philosophy because it will fundamentally change the way you see the world in a way that helps you feel a part of the incredibly beautiful and complex family of all human beings instead of fighting against it.

We can practice Samtosha on the mat. For one, we can practice being content with where we are at in our practice, always riding that comfortably intense edge, rather than pushing beyond our limits. Then, as we honor our bodies, it will be our bodies that invite us to move further in a pose. And secondly, I love the idea that this incredible life journey called yoga can be done on nothing more than a 2’X6’ rubber mat, and that’s all the space we need! Yes, the world is our practice space, but our yoga mat represents all the space we need as we join with like-minded people in a yoga class to apply the condensed practice of learning principles like poses and Samtosha in order to bring those qualities into our practice of daily living.

I’d like to offer two practices that will change your life. I know it sounds like I’m over selling this, but I’m not. Hang with me.

Practice 1.

Before chronically judging people, practice seeing something good about everyone you see. Let it be the first thing you notice. Over the weekend, I was at City Creek Mall and did this practice as I watched throngs of people for an amazing result in my own heart. “That guy has a cool hat. That woman looks like she really loves her kids. Blue is a great color for her. That guy drives an energy efficient car—thanks for doing your part to help keep our environment clean,” etc. I felt as a part of  an incredible family. You can do this practice at stop lights, while walking down the street, and especially while in a crowd. Practice doing it with your own family members. Watch to see how your entire demeanor changes and also how others change toward you.

Practice 2

I’ve begun using a life-changing mantra: “I don’t need to have an opinion about that.” You can ask my wife, sometimes I’ll start to go off about the smallest things, like the wording on a billboard or the fact that Mini’s aren’t mini anymore, but rather medium-i. I sometimes get negative too. Haven’t you noticed how I write about all the stuff that I’m learning in my own practice? Then, I might stop myself and say, “I don’t need to have an opinion about that. Why can’t there be a Medium-I?” “That billboard can be exactly the way it is (illegible) and I simply just don’t need to have an opinion about it.” I bet Seneca enjoys me more when I’m not so opinionated about everything. Heaven forbid that I become that chronically cantankerous person in her life, right? Try out this mantra. Maybe offer it to the grump in your life.

Practice Samtosha with me this week both on and off the mat. And while I’d love to see you in class, if I don’t, “I don’t need to have an opinion about that.”

Please consider joining me for my Pilates and Yoga workshop this weekend at Snowbird. The spots are filling up and there is limited space. I’m really excited for this workshop.

Joseph Pilates And BKS Iyengar Walk Into A Bar . . .

Some say that there are “Pilates people” and there are “yoga people,” as if they were warring factions of fitness tribes. First, that’s dumb, and second, if there were “Pilates people” and “yoga people,” I would consider myself both. Sure, I make a career of teaching yoga and practice yoga more regularly but I consider my Pilates practice absolutely integral to the process of understanding myself and therefore part of my yoga practice.  

What I love about Pilates is the way that it invites me to understand myself through conscious and deliberate movements. I love the precision and the deliberate quality of the practice. I have learned so much about myself through the practice of Pilates. It has informed not only my yoga practice but my teaching more than any other physical practice. I believe that yoga is something much bigger than what you do on your mat. My definition of yoga expands to include anything that helps you understand who you are and invites you to pay attention. Therefore, for me Pilates has been perhaps the greatest extension of my yoga practice.

For several years, I’ve had the pleasure of trading a private Pilates session for a private yoga session with a very gifted teacher and friend, Maya Christopherson. Through our practice together, she has taught me volumes about how my body works, where my hidden weak spots are, and where I’m unconscious in my movements. I move my spine more completely and gracefully because of our work together. I understand the relationship between my tight psoas the movement of my legs. I am more sensitive to not only how to move my body because of our work together, but also more sensitive to how I feel in my body because of her expert instruction.

“Well, there’s no mindful element to Pilates,” you might say. I would say that on the contrary, Pilates is a deliberate, intelligent, and sophisticated way of expanding my somatic awareness and therefore improves my overall mindfulness. In fact, just like yoga, Pilates develops my being physically, energetically, and spiritually/consciously. On the physical level, Pilates makes me strong; I find more power in my running, more capable in my yoga practice, and stronger in the daily dance of living life a dynamic life. On the energetic level, my energy or prana flows more fluidly after a Pilates practice because my muscles, joints, and tissues, have experienced a full-range of intelligently-crafted manipulation causing muscles to release tension from unconscious, habitual movement. My energy flows fluidly because I’ve eliminated stagnation from my system. Simply put, by practicing Pilates I get off my duff and move my body. But not just by flopping my limbs around mindlessly to burn calories. Rather, I’m moving in a way that feels like it was custom-designed for what my body needs. I love how in my Pilates practice, I’ll be invited to do a few quality reps of an exercise rather than 100 sloppy ones. On the causal or spiritual/conscious level, I have to be very tuned in and focused while I do Pilates, I can’t ever just phone it in. This focus on my movement expands my awareness, like a meditation in motion. In part that is what Maya’s job is: to watch me and inquire into things like whether or not I could be more smooth in my movement, more conscious of how my right side moves compared to my left, or how this part of my spine moves compared to this other part of my spine, etc. And in some way you could choose anything, golf, tennis, gymnastics, driving, cooking, being a mom or dad, or whatever you do, as the vehicle toward your own self-realization but I believe that Pilates and yoga are two methods that are particularly useful to create a daily practice to maintain the body, to conduct the flow of energy, and to make me ever more conscious. It may sound oblique to say that I’m becoming a better person, on my way to complete understanding of self and universe, though practicing Pilates but that is exactly what I’m saying. And at the end of the day, body/mind/spirit stuff aside, I just feel great after a Pilates practice.

So, Maya and I thought it would be so fun to have a day with you devoted completely to the practice of exploring both Pilates and yoga. You’ll feel amazing as we lead you several intelligent practices. You will learn volumes about how your body works, different than anybody else’s. It will be a day to remember as we learn about the history and philosophy of both practices and how those apply to every-day living. And as always the goal of these practices, besides feeling amazing in the moment, is to ultimately practice walking through the world with more power, clarity, and energy, as a force for good.

We will be hosting our Pilates and Yoga workshop at The Snowbird Cliff Lodge, on Sunday May 31 from 10 am to 4 pm. If you want to stick around after you get a discount to luxuriate in the spa. Bring a lunch or plan on eating at one of the many restaurants there at Snowbird. Grab your bestie and make it a date! If you sign up with a friend, you both get $10 off.

$145 Single registration

$270 Double registration

See you there!

Scott

The First Step

Photo by Chris Noble

For over a year I volunteered to teach a yoga class once a week to a group of men at a place called The First Step House. This was an institution established for men who had just come out of jail and who needed a positive first step into managing a new life outside of prison. At the First Step House, these guys, many of whom were court-ordered to be there, would receive group therapy and courses about things like anger management, personal finances, and how to get a job.

I remember showing up on my first morning, sometime in the late spring or early summer. I left my wallet locked in my car not knowing how cautious I should be about people who had just left the Big House. I walked into the large red-bricked building, an old renovated church, past a fat calico cat who looked at me like he owned the place. Inside, it smelled like bleach, bacon grease, and coffee. There was a scruffy man wearing a camo jacket and heavy boots standing at a kitchen window placing an order to a uniformed cook for some eggs and pancakes. I mingled around until I found Sabrina, the director; she was debriefing the staff for the day's events in her office. "Oh Scott!" she said enthusiastically. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet our new yoga instructor. He's going to be teaching every Wednesday morning." I was greeted with several polite hellos.

After the meeting, the director showed me around the class rooms, therapy rooms, the grounds, and the kitchen and even invited me to order food there whenever I wanted. Finally she led me to a group of about 20 men in a large meeting room, all shuffling and slouching, consumed in the art of killing time before some institutionalized activity. "Gentlemen!" Sabrina said in a loud and cheery voice that both commanded attention and simultaneously demanded and conveyed respect. "This is Scott, our new yoga instructor." There was a long moment of uneasy quiet as this group of men shifted their eyes skeptically between Sabrina and me, processing the bomb that had just been dropped on them: they were now going to be required to practice yoga. A few less-than-subtle curses skittered around the room to which Sabrina paid no attention and instead marched out of the room leading me and the curmudgeonly group in tow. She led us to a large shed-like structure behind the main building. Inside, there was industrial carpet on the floor, a few small windows, some fluorescent lights, and several chairs arranged a circle. We all began stacking chairs, some still complaining loudly at the fact that they had to do "@#$%ing YO-GA!" Everyone was instructed to grab a mat and sit on the floor which they did, noticeably uncomfortable with tight hips, curved backs, and stiff knees, vestiges of long years of bodily neglect and abuse.

I looked around and saw that many of these men with their military tattoos, dog-tags, and post-Vietnam-era chic apparel were veterans. A pang of bitter realization washed through me. It was a feeling that in some ways this country had forgotten and neglected these people and that blindness resulted in one way or other processing these people into our prisons. Yes, these men had made their own decisions but I wondered how many of these choices had been made as the result of a broken soul, horrific memories, and an impossible sacrifice for a country that all but shunned them when they came back from the living nightmare of Vietnam. I saw men almost void of consciousness, desperately trying to just make it for one more day.

Not all of them were veterans. Some of these men were drug dealers, woman beaters, thieves, cheats, deserters, liars, and addicts. I stood there and looked around the room at these cut-throat, busted sons of America. This was their next step. This was their second chance, or their third or fourth. It didn't matter. They were there and so was I. And what we all shared in common was that we were going to do yoga together in some shed with industrial carpet and stacked chairs, under garish fluorescent lighting and try to see what could come of it.

I stood at the front of the class and introduced myself. I explained who I was, why I think yoga is cool, and that I also like jazz and running and reading. I told them that I didn't like yoga that much at first and that it took me a while to understand it enough to really love it. I shared how much I love the way it makes my body feel and how valuable it is to me to keep my body healthy in order to be a good vehicle of my mind and heart. I shared how well I've come to know my inner-self through this practice. My definition of yoga was very simple: understanding Self through listening; a union of body, mind, and heart. My introduction over, I asked if anybody had any injuries that I could be aware of and spent the next 10 minutes listening to almost every person in the room explain something like an injured back, a shattered elbow, or broken foot. Yoga suggests that everything is connected and in my mind I wondered if these broken bodies were perhaps scars of deeper wounds.

I think something happened to me as I stood there and listened to them describe their injuries. My fears and prejudices melted away and I didn't see ex-cons anymore, I saw hurt people. Aren't we all just bodies with hearts and minds doing our best to know ourselves and this world? Aren't we all just trying to mend and move forward? My nervousness subsided a bit and suddenly I found myself caught up with an excitement to be there, to offer something that we all could share, a way to connect, a way to heal, a way to simply feel good in our bodies and maybe find some inner peace. I shared a few jokes and anecdotes. This lightened the mood and greased the resistance a little. Then we started the practice with a simple focus on our breath and some easy breathing techniques which caused a sputtering of coughs and gasps. We moved our bodies in cat-cow position on hands and knees and mobilized the spine. Together, we moved the body through some slow and gentle sun salutations. We mobilized shoulders, wrists, hips, neck, knees, and ankles. When we did supine pigeon pose to loosen up tight hips, you'd have thought it was a dungeon of hell with all the groans and curses through clenched teeth. But they were doing it. And whether they realized it or not, the intensity of stretching such tight muscles entered them into a very deep practice of mindfulness. I believe that there is scarcely anything in the world that hones one's attention like pigeon pose, any of its incarnations, applied to tight hips. Pigeon: the fast-track to enlightenment! We finished our session with a rest as I led them through a guided meditation. After, I taught them the meaning of Namaste, an honoring salutation that acknowledges the common goodness in all of us. I bowed to them, offered a Namaste, and even received a few timid Namastes in return.

That started my year-plus stint at The First Step House. There were several different groups of men at the First Step House. I would meet with the same group each Wednesday for four weeks then change groups. Invariably the first session of each new group started with the same curses and objections but just as predicable came the subsequent sessions marked more and more acceptance, even happy anticipation about the practice. Yoga was helping their bodies to feel better, helping their minds to be more focused, and their hearts to be more calm. We grew to trust each other. I cherished their demonstrative respect for me, a respect that came easily once they got to know me. I stopped leaving my wallet locked in the car. I would come in to the center on Wednesday mornings and on my way back to the yoga shed, several of the men who had been in my previous groups would enthusiastically greet me with a hello and handshake or high-five. They followed my instructions and asked some great questions. Some admitted it, some didn't, but almost everyone grew to really love the practice. I'll never forget the sight and sound of these gruff dudes, sitting the best they could cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed in a squint and hands to heart, chanting the most gravely OOOOmmmm ever heard on this side of steel bars and razor wire.

Thanks to the First Step House, I learned a lot about yoga and teaching yoga. I learned that yoga can touch anybody. I learned that more than being a fantastic teacher, yoga itself is the teacher. I learned that the power of yoga lies in its current application to the situation and time at hand. I learned to offer this practice to people in a way that meets them where they are. My classes at The First Step House were the only classes I've taught where I instituted a 10-minute smoke break in the middle of class; perfectly appropriate. I learned that no matter how broken you might be this practice puts you on a pathway toward wholeness. Thank you, First Step House for all that you taught me. Though I wasn't paid money, The First Step House gave me deep riches of yogic knowledge, insight to teaching, and deep personal connection.

About 8 years after my stint at The First Step House, my friend Sarah asked me if I would offer a brief ceremony of heart-connection and mindfulness in remembrance of a friend who had recently passed. And so at an outdoor party, I gathered a group of people and lead them through some gentle movement then a heart-felt meditation in remembrance of their friend. After the ceremony, a man approached me very excitedly and said, "Scott! It's Dusty from The First Step House!" We gave each other a big hug and caught up for a brief moment. Dusty told me how great he was doing and emphasized how the yoga we did together had become so important to him. I told him that likewise, the yoga we had done together had meant so much to me. What a thrill to see someone from The First Step House.

Regardless of our circumstances, there is always somewhere we want and need to go. That journey requires the first step, one of courage, determination, and open-heartedness. Let's take this step together!

See you in class.

Home, Jeeves

Sometimes when life gets tricky, I want to type in a random address and turn on my GPS navigator just to hear a comforting voice tell me where to go. Maybe in a perfect world, one might choose from the list of GPS guiding voices to be that of a sage (mine would be Gandalf's voice) who would while en route, maybe at a stop light or on a long stretch of road, offer a piece of true direction. Maybe that in some way you're supposed to be lost because that's what starts you asking the questions, what keeps your eyes alert, your ears open, your senses alive. That you're going in the right direction just by living and struggling and searching. Sure, it's good to turn at this stop sign, and travel another couple of years down this road, but most importantly, it's important to keep going.

And hopefully that voice always tells you to listen to your heart.

So type Centered City Yoga's address into your GPS (926 East 900 South Salt Lake Cityand let it guide you to yoga class this week to practice listening to that inner voice, that wise part of you that knows where to go or if not where to go, maybe how to enjoy the ride.

See you in class.

A Life Burning Well

Have you ever found yourself saying things that you didn't know you knew? What's that about? I think it's about understanding yourself deeply. There is something in the articulation of an experience or thought or feeling that taps us into our deeper knowledge. Writing, dance, photography, and blogging could all be part of the creative process that helps articulate an experience. I love poetry and I think that's what the essence of poetry is: understanding one's self and life's grand mysteries through bite-sized bits of awareness. Like the legendary Leonard Cohen says, "If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." The creative expression itself isn't the experience; it's a product of the experience. More than the craft and beauty of their writing, we love poets for the people they are to write such words. We love who they have become by writing their poetry.

I suppose I've been trying to learn about who I am my whole life. The same way writing or dance could tap this deeper wisdom, for me yoga and the separate practice of teaching yoga has been a creative avenue of personal growth and understanding. Yoga and teaching yoga has showed me hidden gifts. It's challenged me to confront my largest weaknesses. It's showed me how much I love people and love to be involved in their own personal growth. What a privilege! And in the process of practicing and teaching yoga, I've learned a bunch about myriad topics like philosophy, spirituality, anatomy, meditation, etc. After learning about all this fascinating, intricate, and sometimes esoteric stuff, I invariably come to the same fat and resounding question/statement: SO WHAT? What does any of this have to do with my daily life, or other people's lives? What does any of this stuff have to do with going to work, living my live, having relationships, and fulfilling my dreams?

My search into "SO WHAT?" has led me to the wonderful and challenging and enlightening practice of writing this thing every week. This weekly blurb has been my wisest teacher. It's here, in this creative expression of my own inquiry, where I find myself saying the things that I didn't know I knew. I'm just happy that people want read my rantings. I don't write about what I want others to learn so much as I write about what I'm learning in this moment. Then when I teach it all week in yoga classes, I have so much more I want to say by the end of the week because I've learned so much more by the process of teaching it, a different creative expression. I should offer a post script to this thing at the end of the week to fill you in on what else I've learned along the process of articulating it.

I can't be having all the fun here. I'd love to invite you into this beautiful process of unfolding, knowledge, and experience, of finding your own deeper wisdom, by making your own personal expression of anything you do in life. I'd love to hear about or invite you to find yourself saying the things you didn't know you knew.

Here's my invitation:

1. Do something. Anything.
2. Document it in some way: journal, poem, Facebook Post, blog, photo, draw, dance, whatever.
3. Do it again
4. Document again, maybe this time explain it or teach it to someone.
5. Watch to see yourself say things you didn't know you knew. Watch for the insights that come naturally.
6. Then tell me all about it, because I'll be curious.

The end.

See you in class. 

What Does Your Gut Say?

There is a part of you that just knows. Call it intuition. Call it your gut feeling. Call it your inner-guru. Call it what you want but I'd wager that sometime or other we've all had an experience that feels like we've tapped into some deeper wisdom within ourselves. Sometimes information or something a friend says hits you between the eyes. Other times as you might be considering which option to choose, you'll land on one and your whole body completely relaxes. For some, this inner wisdom is the feeling you get when you are connected to a divine source. And when we have these experiences, it feels like this wisdom is coming from somewhere different than our conscious mind of rational thoughts. It's not an analysis. It's deeper.

In yoga we call this the Wisdom Body or in Sanskrit the Vijnanamaya Kosha (pronounced vig-nyana-my-ah). The source of this inner wisdom is the place between dreaming and waking consciousness. Many cultures and spiritual traditions have different names and explanations for this place of inner wisdom. For example, in Native American spirituality it's said that this wisdom realm is very mystical, a source of visions, and ruled by the spiritual powers of the fox.

Like all things in yoga, through practice we can develop an ability to better hear or recognize this inner wisdom. Personally, I've also found a profound practice in learning to trust and act upon this inner wisdom when I do hear it. Yoga, meditation, and yoga nidra, are all ways to practice accessing our Wisdom Body. In the yoga system of subtle body, you can access this inner-wisdom by meditating or performing breathing exercises while focusing on the Ajna Chakra, sometimes called your Third Eye (looks inward), the energetic and symbolic spot in the center of your forehead. Another way to access the Wisdom Body is through the symbols and feelings of your dreams. Keeping a dream journal is a fun way to practice hearing your inner wisdom. Often you tap this Wisdom Body when you clear your head and do something simple like folding the laundry, going on a walk in the park, or walking your dog.

Below is a simple practice, to experiment tuning in to this inner wisdom. Just have fun with this and don't be too serious about it. Read through this first and then give yourself 10-15 minutes or so to try it. If you prefer to own a 27 minute recorded version of this that you can listen to over and over please click here. I'm charging $6.96.

Practice:

Lie down and close your eyes. Practice first focusing as you methodically bring your attention to all the different parts of your body: start from the top and go part-by-part to the bottom. Spend about at least 5 minutes doing this, you've got to let your body relax and tune in. When you're relaxed, picture yourself sitting with someone very wise and loving. This person could be imaginary, living, passed on, young, old, whatever; it's your inner reference so you can choose whoever you want. Sometimes, I choose Gandalf from Lord of the Rings as my wise person(can we keep that just between us?). Picture in detail where the two of you would be, what you would be doing, and most importantly the feelings between the two of you. Imagine that this wise person knows you inside and out, they know your personality, your likes and dislikes, your past and even your future and they love every part of you. They are your biggest cheerleader. Now, imagine that this person is excited to tell you something profound about you. They turn to you and with a smile say, "You know . . ." Now, let your mind fill in the blank with the first thing that comes to mind, what they would say about you. Don't try to think about it, let it be instinct, that's the point. Pause and take it in. Notice the way your body feels after this bit of advice or wisdom from your inner-friend. Notice any emotions, sensations, symbols, images, or anything that spontaneously arises for you, if any. Remember, this person is just the symbol of your deep inner-wisdom. They are a part of YOU. Repeat it to yourself. This is part of your subconscious speaking to your conscious mind through the symbol of your friend. And if what this person says doesn't resonate with you, don't take it personally, it doesn't necessarily mean anything. Or perhaps notice where the resistance is to what they said, sometimes there is a message in that, too. Or, just tell your wise inner-friend, "Thanks for the advice" (you're choosing a different wise friend next time, but you don't have to tell them that). Continue on with this meditation until you feel ready to get up. You might want to connect briefly with your body to get grounded before you leave your meditation. Sometimes this mediation can be profound and sometimes nothing happens but it is a great way to practice hearing this inner-wisdom. At very least, it will be relaxing.

I invite you to cultivate this listening for this wise inner-teacher by practicing yoga with me this week. Try this guided meditation, it's fun. If you're interested in joining me for Yoga Nidra this week, I'll be throwing in some Nidra at the end of all my classes. I will be leading a guided meditation that invites you to listen to your wise inner-teacher. If you really want to blow your mind with some great ancient literature, check out the Vijnanamaya Bhairav, an ancient text all about the subject. I'm sure you can Google it or pick it up at Oasis or Dancing Cranes, maybe order it from The Kings English Bookstore.

Sympathetic Vibration

Today I want to talk about music, specifically how music makes people resonate together. The essence of the practice of yoga is to yoke body/mind/spirit individually on our way to understanding the way we belong to the entire universe. And whether we think of it as yoga or not, music is an incredible way of doing this. I’ve had some profound connections with other people as we play music together. While we are playing together it feels like I can truly read their mind. You can easily feel this connection with old cats who have been playing together for decades.

Everything in the Universe resonates. Everything is frequency from colors to sounds to ideas. When something is vibeing similarly to the way you are tuned, you tend to naturally vibe in tandem. When someone says something that resonates, when you see a movie that moves you, or when you finish your friend’s sentences, you are experiencing sympathetic vibration.  In the world of sound and physics it’s called sympathetic vibration. I wrote about this more in depth in my blog post Freaky Twin Connection.  Essentially a practical explanation of sympathetic vibration goes like this . . . When I play an E on my sax, then take my sax out of my mouth, the E on the guitar in the same room has begun to vibrate because it’s tuned to the same frequency. It hears the same vibration and sings the same note like a ghost playing in the room. Freaky cool!

Yoga is a disciplined way of tuning ourselves to experiencing those sympathetic vibrations. We do this by cleansing and strengthening the body, by stilling the mind, and by learning how to fiercely listen and feel with all of our faculties. Imagine your life is a path that is constantly revealing itself to you. And as you learn to listen, all you have to do in life is move toward whatever is singing your song.

This week I invite you to practice listening to that which truly moves you and bravely move in that direction.

My dear friend, John Louviere, the guy who wrote as a guest for my blog, 10% More Relaxed, is an incredible singer/songwriter. THIS SATURDAY from 1-2:30 pm at Centered City Yoga we are going to create some sympathetic vibrations by combining fantastic music and a gentle flow yoga class. Come and feel the magic of the MUSIC + YOGA vibe and share it with an amazing group of people.

Cost is $20 in advance and $25 at the door.

See you there!

Mindfulness Retreat April 25 or 26

With Scott Moore and Vicki Overfelt

10am- 4 pm
Snowbird Cliff Lodge
$95

I invite you to join us for the upcoming Mindfulness Retreat I'm co-hosting with Vicki Overfelt. Vicki is incredible! I am so impressed with her ability to translate the work of mindfulness to both experts and beginners alike in a way that is approachable, engaging, and open-hearted. I have been privileged to work with her and attend her mindfulness courses for several years and I am thrilled to be teaching with her. I really want to share this opportunity with you.

If you could use a little more mindfulness in your life, if you want to learn to meditate, if you could use a retreat away from the rigamarole to find clarity, solace, or need to "change rooms in your mind for a day," like the Sufi poet Hafiz says, you will love this experience. We will discuss mindfulness and practice several forms including gentle, all-levels yoga practice.

Then, at the end of the day, your tuition also gets you into the world-renown Cliff Spa to luxuriate on the roof top pool or jacuzzi, or sit in the Eucalyptus Steam Room! Bring your own towel and sandals. Also, there will be a lunch break in the middle so plan on bringing a lunch or eating at one of Snowbird's many restaurants.

This is already filling up so grab your bestie and register today.

See you there!

Mindful
by Mary Oliver

Every day
I see or hear
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for -
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world -
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant -
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these -
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean's shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

Change Rooms In Your Mind For A Day

When shit goes down, and you don’t know where to go and what to do with whatever is troubling you, try simply changing your environment for a little while. This is what came to me on my run. One of my dear teachers, Jaisri, would tell me to just go walk outside, to connect with nature which is regulated by the principle of harmony. I guess that’s what Wallace Stevens meant when he said, “Sometimes the truth depends upon a walk around the lake.”

I guess that’s what I’m thinking about: Truth. Or at least truth as translated into what I believe at that moment. Because I think, and I’m sure you’d maybe agree with me here, that sometimes what we believe is true and what is True with a capitol T isn’t always the same thing. That’s because beliefs are constantly changing. For example, I used to believe that if I ate watermelon seeds, I’d grow a watermelon in my belly. Sure, I was 4 years old but that belief changed. I don’t worry about watermelon belly anymore but I still worry. Some things that I believe are true are True and others aren’t. The important thing, I think, is to understand there is a difference.

Yoga philosophy teaches us that our beliefs are a part of us but are changeable and therefore not the best representation of our True Self. Beliefs are just beliefs. Once we place our awareness above our perceived beliefs, and this includes worries, then we raise our consciousness to see something broader. We then escape the trap of thinking that things have to be all black and white, this way or that, right or wrong. We can see past our own rigid ideology (a schema of beliefs) and in so doing invite others to do the same. I believe this rise above ideology, to a paradoxical place where both sets of beliefs can be right, or to a place that is ultimately more important if either is right, is what harmony really means.

As I write, at this very moment, I’m looking next to me at the Zen painting hanging on my wall that I bought in Korea, where a monk with his giant calligraphy brush painted the symbol for harmony. I think I really understand this painting for the first time.  

To raise our consciousness like this, to exit our old beliefs, the engines that make us worry, means we need to take a vacation from our own mind, from the way we’ve been previously thinking. Not that we have to change very radically. Just see a different something different. Like Hafiz says, we’ve gotta change rooms in our minds for a day. When you don’t know where to go, change your environment. Go on a walk. Get into nature. Jump into a yoga class and get out of those worry landscapes, those fear landscapes, and connect, even in a small way, with that part of you that is Harmony, that is the rue part of yourself.

One of my dear family members, a German scholar, loves to quote a Prussian general speaking to another general as he looks over a devastated battle field, “the situation is hopeless but not serious.” Thanks, Alan.

All the Hemispheres by Hafiz

Leave the familiar for a while.

Let your senses and bodies stretch out

Like a welcomed season

Onto the meadow and shores and hills.

Open up to the Roof.

Make a new watermark on your excitement

And love.

Like a blooming night flower,

Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness

And giving

Upon our intimate assembly.

Change rooms in your mind for a day.

All the hemispheres in existence

Lie beside an equator

In your heart.

Greet Yourself

In your thousand other forms

As you mount the hidden tide and travel

Back home.

All the hemispheres in heaven

Are sitting around a fire

Chatting

While stitching themselves together

Into the Great Circle inside of

You.

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. 

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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.