This year, I've been doing my best to put up a new yoga video just about every week! We'll see how that goes now that I'm back to working full-time, but so far, so good. This one targets the hips, or the Sacral Chakra. It's the third in a series of chakra videos that work on opening up different areas of the body. You can check them all out here.
As always, I hope you are enjoying them or courteously ignoring them. Feel free to send over any requests!
In case you didn't notice from reading this blog or on various forms of social media, I recently started a yoga-themed YouTube channel (it's here). Sometimes it feels like something very silly to me, and other times it seems like something very relevant and necessary. It's a difficult balance of the brain, going back and forth between doubting ourselves and pursuing our passions. I enjoyed this blog post about it: here.
I'm pretty adept about having ideas and taking those first steps to put them into action-- I don't like to let them linger around for years-- but usually after the first or second day, doubt starts to creep in and overshadow my hopes. It tells me maybe the original idea wasn't that good, or who was I to think I could take on something like that? Fear sweeps in to keep me comfortable, safe, and fine existing just the way I am.
That's nice, but in order to grow, sometimes we have to be a little uncomfortable or at risk. We must step outside our familiar boundaries to expand our horizons. Fear arrives to test our commitment. "Ok, so you said you were serious, but how serious?" it asks. "And how about now?" as another potential roadblock appears.
But the trick about dealing with fear is to know that you can't go wrong. If you're following the voice deep inside from your heart or soul or wherever those ideas come from, you can't make a mistake. Sure, sometimes your idea doesn't take off, or your plan doesn't quite go as expected and you're forced come up with a new one later on, but, man, it feels so much better to do it and see what happens than to wonder "what if" for the next few years down the line. You'll always end up where you need to be, despite any detours, and the people you need and who need you will be there to support you. Even if it's something small, like taking an art class or visiting a new place in your town, why let fear stop you from doing the things that feel right to you?
Thank you for watching, reading, writing, or just being you and being here!
I'm just beginning to work my way out of the choco-coma leftover from last week's festivities. Being a solo participant in the holiday is actually not that bad because your friends and family tend to take pity on you and send extra sweets and other good things. Whether as a single person or part of a couple, I've never been someone who hates Valentine's Day. Unless you're in elementary school with a mandated one-card-or-candy-per-classmate policy, you're really never forced to buy anything (get creative! make a craft! go on a picnic!), and it's just a day to tell the special people in your life that you love them. I've been calling it Pal-entine's Day for a long long while now.
This one was not my best February 14th because, when I showed up to the yoga studio to teach my nighttime class, I found that there was a huge pug-themed and pug-filled Valentine's basket waiting on the front desk. If you know me, you probably know that the axis of my life is spinning around those furry, wrinkly balls of joy, but, sadly, the basket included a card addressed to "Mummy" and, thus, was not for me. I was disheartened, but glad it was there to make someone else happy, and I could go on to do some yoga (and eat a lot of chocolate) with my own class.
Romantic valentine or none, I was still showing up in pink clothes with my heart earrings on, and I was still showing up for love-- love for my friends and family who take good care of me, love for life, and just the general idea of love as an energy that exists and propels us toward connecting with each other and being our best selves.
Here's a video if you ever need a little extra:
It's strange to be back in Austin on what seems like a "temporary visa". When my plane touched down beside that misplaced field of longhorn cattle grazing next to long-term parking lots, I didn't know what to feel. The weather was cloudy and rainy. Not exactly the warm, bright welcome I'd come to expect from the pretty city that has been my home for the past five years. "How does it feel to be back?" asked my friends and family members during run-ins and phone calls. It felt good, and it felt weird.
After a long backpacking trip, I've found that it's always a relief to be able to stay in one place where all your stuff is, and where you don't have to unpack all your belongings just to find your toothbrush or clean socks. It felt weird because I wasn't coming back to many commitments. I had tickets to a concert that night, a longtime fulfillment around which I'd arranged my return trip. But what would I do when the week started, with no work to go to or classes to attend?
I had some job applications, interviews, and decisions to make that were keeping me in the limbo phase. I knew I wanted to get back to teaching yoga as soon as possible, but it's hard to ask for a permanent class at a studio or apply to new jobs when you're not sure if you might be gone in a few weeks. My personal practice was struggling, too. In Austin, studio teaching jobs and work trades had spoiled me into getting my yoga on a budget. I wanted to ask for my work trade job back at my favorite studio, but I was nervous. It's a pretty good deal-- manning the desk in between classes for your monthly membership. I didn't want to ask for freebies from yoga teachers, since I am one and I know how hard they work.
I was very close to clicking the link to sign up for a $39 for 30 days pass at one of the fancy downtown studios when I remembered the trick to ask for what you want. Wouldn't my studio rather have me work for them than spend my money somewhere else? I emailed the studio manager and asked if she might need any help over the next two weeks while I was sure to be in town. She replied that it was the perfect time to ask, because there were a few days she needed coverage before the end of the month. I returned to the studio for class and training the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. Ask and you shall receive.
Two years ago, during my yoga teacher training course at Dharma Yoga, one of our teachers, Camila, shared a story to demonstrate the level of power our reactions have over our experiences. That same story came back to me two times in recent weeks, so I decided to include it (or at least a much less eloquent version than the one Camila told) at the beginning of one of my new yoga videos.
In the parable of a Chinese farmer, one day the farmer's horse runs away. His neighbors hear about it, and they come over to express their concern. The farmer is unaffected; he says "I do not know whether this is good news or bad news. All I know is that my horse has run away. We will see what happens." The next day, his horse returns with a group of horses. The neighbors are back, this time to convey their excitement. Again the farmer replies, "I do not know whether this is good news or bad news. We will see what happens." Soon, while his son is helping to break in one of the horses, he falls off and breaks his leg. The neighbors, of course, are anxious. The farmer is much less worried. "All I know is that my son has broken his leg," he says. "We'll see what happens." Then, some short time in the future, the army comes to town to enlist young men to serve as soldiers in a battle with a neighboring village. The son's injury saves him from being drafted. The neighbors stay at home that day.
When something unexpected happens to us in life, we can be so quick to categorize it as a positive or negative event. Much of our energy is spent celebrating little successes or course-correcting when something goes wrong. However, over the course of a lifetime, we find many examples where what seemed like a loss eventually resulted in a much greater gain, or when we yearned for something that only led to trouble down the road. The example of the Chinese farmer teaches us to sit quietly and observe while we take in a wider perspective. When we step back from the day-to-day action, we are able to see that these small ups and downs become part of a more majestic whole.
I hope you are enjoying the videos! Thank you for putting up with my story telling.
Namaste.
I've been trying to make the most of my free time, and the empty room that has become available in our house. It's a pretty lucky spot for practicing yoga and filming videos! Here's one for loosening up after spending a lot of time working at your desk or your computer, which, sadly, most of us do way too much.
Hope you enjoy! Check it out and let me know what you think.
In case you missed it, I've been rolling out my mat in the house and making some yoga videos. This is the first one, and it turns out that it can be a little scary to talk to the camera. I'm hoping it will get easier the more times I try. Isn't that the way it goes with all these life adventures?
Enjoy and let me know what you think!
In case you did not already assume this, being an international yoga instructor at a boutique hotel is actually not very much work. I teach a group class every morning and some days at night, check people in at the front desk sometimes, and make myself available in case someone wants to schedule a private class in the afternoon. Since I enjoy teaching yoga, and would usually be doing it anyway, none of this feels like work at all. And in a small city like Granada where everything is a few blocks away, my schedule leaves a lot of time for relaxing and taking a break from it all.
This is wonderful. The scenery is incredible. The lack of a huge tourist population makes everything very peaceful. On the other hand, for me, there is not a very big “all” from which I am supposed to be taking a break. It would be very easy to spend days here reading entire books, taking naps in hammocks, and lounging around swimming pools. That is nice. Very nice. However, my normal life right now is one big abyss of relaxing solitude and, despite the niceness, I don't want to look back on a whole month remembering that all I did was nap and lounge. So, in true former corporate slave fashion, I have set some loose goals for myself (only three!) for the trip and here they are, en español:
Crear: This has been one of the themes of this whole year for me. I've been pushing to explore creative pursuits instead of putting them off and wishing upon a star that I get around to them someday. Someday is here, and, fortunately, for such a little city, Granada has a robust art scene with a surprising number of art galleries. Apart from that, the houses and buildings are so colorful that one doesn't have to look far for inspiration. I packed some paints and brushes, and this Central American world is my canvas.
Hablar: One helpful skill that I've acquired in this lifetime is the ability to speak Spanish. If we're talking about where I'm from, or my family, or ordering at a restaurant, local people are usually surprised that I can speak it so well. At this point, they should be more surprised at the hesitation I feel about speaking it candidly and the number of stumbles and roadblocks that come up in more meaningful conversations. I have seventeen years of experience and a Master's degree for goodness' sake. On this trip, I'm trying to delve a little further than my heavily chartered territory, and make a focused effort not to shy away from longer conversations.
Sentar: The third goal is really a tricky anti-goal. Besides the constant drive toward self-improvement that is probably a shadow from my next decade looming on the horizon, I would like to be a part of the slower-paced life that the people here are living. They're sitting outside on their patios, spending time with family, and strolling through the streets to meet up after dark. After four days of this, I can already feel myself wanting to join a gym, schedule excursions, go for a jog, take classes, try every cafe, visit every art gallery, etc. etc. I'm trying to remember that all this doing isn't always the most rewarding thing, and that the most memorable outings usually are not on the checklist.
While in Bali, I had the chance to fulfill an interest that has been sparking my curiosity for a long time by spending a night at a silent retreat. While I don't think I stayed quite long enough to fully experience the plentiful benefits of time spent in silence, the retreat center provided a brief glimpse of all that can be gained from being alone with yourself in such a peaceful place.
Before my arrival, I was nervous. I had received recommendations, but I didn't think I would have enough time to go since I was (very sadly) only in Bali for four days and the retreat center is about an hour and a half outside of Ubud. Then it just so happened that I ended up with a free night and didn't have anywhere else scheduled to stay so I checked for openings and, after finding a few, made a reservation.
I wasn't sure when the silence would start. Would the van driver talk to me after picking me up? Would reception just hand me a bag and a list of instructions? How would I make travel arrangements to come back to the next day? All my concerns abated when I arrived to find the most cheerful and talkative Balinese woman waiting to check me in and show me around. The reception hut was an open talking zone, and she still toured me around the grounds in whispers after we had passed the white flags that started the zone of silence on the property.
My first surprise was at how much there was to do. There were five hours of guided yoga and meditation classes offered each day-- 2.5 in the morning and another 2.5 at night. Around the retreat center there were also many opportunities for more solitary mediation which could take place under a waterfall, in a labyrinth walking maze, or on a jungle trek through the woods. There was full library in the lounge and three mealtimes provided tasty, vegetarian, and organic buffets. There were lectures on green living, and frequent field trips where you could talk to the other guests. It was a light and delicious introduction to the more serious vipassana or ashram experience.
The second surprise was that dinner was set out between 4:30 and 6pm, right after the afternoon round of yoga and meditation. On the first day, I had to do some extra fast-paced jungle trekking to be ready for a meal at that time, but it helped to get into the habit of eating less and resisting the urge to try everything on the table... for the most part. It was a little uncomfortable to be around the other visitors without greeting anyone, but most people shared smiles and held doors for each other. Some even broke the rules a bit to mouth a "thank you".
The final surprise helped make sense of why dinner was so early. Since the retreat center runs efficiently on solar power, the lights in the main buildings turn off around 7, and most of my dorm mates were turning off their bed lamps to go to sleep at 8. It's a wonder how quickly our bodies adapt to the rhythm of nature when we don't have electronics to disrupt or entertain. I lay awake that night for a while listening to all the sounds outside, but eventually fell asleep feeling blessed to be in such a beautiful place.
After Bangkok, I Julia Robertsed my way into Indonesia and found that life in Bali is a life worth living. You're pretty much welcome to do what you want, if what you want is going to the beach or the jungle, hanging out with monkeys or riding a scooter to a waterfall, sitting by the pool, eating tropical fruits and soaking at the spa, or climbing up a volcano, or just doing magnificent yoga all day. If you don't like any of these things, I am not sure what we are going to do if we ever hang out.
The Yoga Barn has one million yoga classes, a delicious cafe, a hotel and a spa, so I stayed there a lot of the time. I also stayed at the pool of the Green Bird Villa hotel where they fed me banana pancakes in the mornings. My friends drove me around on motor bikes to places with tribal drumming and cafes with fire pole slides. I got a two hour massage with flower bath for $13.
Consider this self treated.
And the monkeys... I will tell you more about the monkeys soon.
I'll bet there are a lot of yoga retreats that lead you to inner peace through sitting in silence and fasting, but I'm feeling almost as peaceful after making new friends and filling my belly with delicious vegan passionfruit cheesecake.
Here's what you should do on a yoga retreat, but be warned that this guidance is really only applicable for a yoga retreat in Northern Thailand which happens to be the one that I just went on.
1. Do some yoga. Pretty self-explanatory here. I didn't take many pictures of myself actually doing yoga because I was so centered and immersed, but here's a picture of that cheesecake:
2. Learn to cook. I recommend Thai green curry, Thai red curry, Thai yellow curry, or any color curry that combines delicious spices with coconut milk and some vegetables. Include many desserts, especially the delightful aforementioned cheesecake. Summon your strength and don't quit the cooking class before the mango sticky rice portion!
3. Learn other stuff, too. Usually when you gather a group of passionate people together, you'll find that most of them have interesting things to share. It was a blessing to find time to learn a bit of Kundalini yoga from our roommate, Sam, and to partake in a mind-bending Yin class with anatomy master, Antonio. Learn as much as you can whenever you have the chance!
4. Relax in new ways. If sunning, swimming, yoga, and meditation aren't enough for you, throw in a few Thai massages, an herbal sauna, and some hot springs on top of it all. We also spent a day at a floating retreat called Om Waters which is an incredibly magical place that is existing out here in the world.
5. Visit temples high and low. This is Thailand, so there are temples on mountains, in caves, and almost anywhere you look on regular old solid ground. I'll never forget sitting around our satsung circle beneath a shining golden Buddha statue watching the sun set and wondering how I got so lucky as to wind up here.
Before embarking on this trip, it was hard for me to answer when my friends and family asked why I was coming to Thailand for a yoga retreat. There were many reasons that I was unable to briefly summarize into a single response. I'd never been to Asia before. I felt called here because of my prior connection with Echo. I had seen friends traveling to Thailand and Bali (and posting photos of jungles and monkeys), and I was envious of their escapades. I wanted to be around people who were living creative, non-conventional lives and learn from them. But mostly, I thought, I liked practicing yoga, and Thailand seemed like an interesting location in which to do it.
On the first night of the retreat, we meditated together, and then took a moment to write down our intentions for the remainder of our time together. Why did I come here? What was I hoping to get out of this? I thought my answer would be a little more hands-off. Yoga and Thailand. Yoga in Thailand. Did I really need to say more? Throughout my journey, I've done this kind of thing many times—set intentions for the practice, notice how my body folds into various shapes, share meditative experiences with strangers and see how in a day they become close friends. Even when people cry or reveal hopelessly frustrated dark nights of the soul, I'm not surprised because my mind has been there, too. When it comes to journaling and holding hands in circles, I'm an old pro.
But on that first night of focus, preparing for a week of what I hoped would provide clarity and a light on the path to bliss, my mind's eye revealed something more. I always like to pretend that I'm an expert at things, exceedingly nervous to show flaws in whatever I'm meant to be knowledgable about. Yoga, meditation, travel—no big deal for me! I'm a teacher! I've been to 30 countries! However, during meditation that night, after a week of flying over countries and oceans, carrying heavy backpacks, and taking in so much of the external world, it felt so welcoming to return to my mat. Even though I was a full twelve hours time difference from where I normally live, I was grounded. I was home.
As I sat there trying to settle on an intention or a reason to write on my little slip of paper, I could finally see the childlike part of me that was kneeling in the presence of these timeless teachings, patiently and earnestly hoping to see and learn. I didn't need to try to sound cool, experienced, or knowledgeable with a load of classes, workshops, and explorations under my belt. I'm here because there's so much that I haven't seen and so much that I don't know. I saw clearly the innocence in me of someone who never feels like an expert, who has found that the road to self-discovery is as challenging as it is rewarding. My intention in that moment, which remains with me as I write this now, is to hold onto that vision of myself, and to recognize it in everyone around me. I want to realize the unblemished wonder with which we are all encountering this world, and look past any disguises, fancy language, or walls that get in the way. And then, of course, to see some monkeys, too.
Namaste.
I met Echo for the first time about two years ago in Austin. I had been going through a rough week, filled with tears and uncertainty. I was unhappy in my job and experiencing some unexpected turbulence in my romantic relationship. In spite of the sizable lump in my throat that made me want to stay home and avoid talking to anyone, I kept doing the one thing that I knew would remain constant through the hard-hitting emotional crises and pains that inevitably come with growing up; I went to yoga class.
I waited at the door of Sukha Yoga, and Echo showed up right on time. The only problem was that she had forgotten her keys and wasn't sure if we'd be able to get into the studio for class. I didn't mind. I was happy to have found some people who would've practiced in a parking lot, and who didn't have any idea what was happening in my personal life. Even just sitting on the stoop outside the studio in good company beat crying alone in my car. But, as luck would have it, Echo's partner was able to drop off the keys, and we went inside to flow. Like always, being on my mat helped me set aside my perceived difficulties so I could feel into my body and, yeah, throw down a few handstands to alter my perspective. I felt a connection with the strength and style of Echo's teaching, and I think I ended up attending almost all of her classes over the next few weeks before she left on a journey to Japan.
Flash forward two years into the future, and here I am in Thailand on a yoga retreat with the same teacher. Since we met, Echo has been living in Japan, New Zealand, Greece, and “nowhere” as she backpacks nomadically around this part of the world. It's been a treat to learn from her independent, take charge attitude—she's a global adventurer who seems prepared to take on any challenge. I carry all my teachers with me on this path, but it's been nice get to know one a little better and benefit the glow from her fiery spirit. As for me, I've kept on this long walk toward truth, and I'm certified to call myself a teacher now, too. The uncertainty and turbulence haven't changed all that much, but the girl experiencing it all sure has.
This year, Echo has started leading retreats and participating in teacher trainings around the world. I'm happy that she joined forces with Cole Chance for ours. Cole is a dreamy yoga instructor, Thai massage master, ecstatic dance enthusiast, and general positive vibe exuding being. I'm grateful that even though I never had the chance to meet her during our mutual Austin residences, I somehow ended up with her on the other side of the world. If you're looking for a yoga retreat that includes both meditation and exploration, check out both of these ladies as they plan more offerings near and far: echoflowyoga.com | colechanceyoga.com.
Namaste.
There have been so many times this week that I had to pinch myself to make sure I'm really here on the other side of the world, sleeping near the foothills of these glorious green mountains. I certainly never got tired of the morning walk past the two water buffalo grazing in the rice paddy fields on our way out to the outdoor yoga space. Or the saltwater pool with its peacefully trickling waterfall. Or our Shire-style mala room with an outdoor shower and a portal door connecting us four smiling roommates. Or the fresh coconuts, mangoes, and multicolored dragonfruits. But I digress...
I feel so thankful to have had the time and the means to be here on this trip. The Mala Dhara Eco-Resort provided a perfect background (and beyond delicious organic vegetarian meals) for our days spent working on powerful inner and outer shifts. I met likeminded people of many different ages and nationalities, all eager to share their stories and offer advice to help develop my own. We're all breaking down conditioned thought patterns with the goal of staying on a path toward blissful existence in our hearts and our communities. I'll share the in's and out's of retreating and the places we visited soon, but for now, I'm just saying thank you to everyone I found here, and who found me, and to the universe for bringing all of this into alignment.
Kob khun kha!
I'm about to head out to West Texas to visit Marfa and Big Bend for the rest of the week, so of course I'm thankful for that. And to have the week off of work which allowed me to sleep until 10:00 the past two days. Praise be.
But this past month for me has been sad! The world is in a strange place, my roommate and dear friend is en route to move to the East Coast, and the person I love more than anything told me he's leaving, too. No one wants to read blog posts about missing friends or hurting hearts. How whiny! How boring! How trite!
And so I think when people ask, "How are you doing?", they expect the standard, "I'm well. How about you?" Or we feel pressured to say, "I'm doing okay", or, "I feel sad, but things will get better". But sometimes we're just plain old sad. And we know things will get better, but then they'll probably be sad again someday, and get better again, and the cycle will continue on and on forever because that's how life goes.
We learn grasp for the good. Like when Eastside Yoga let me rent out a room to give Lainie a proper send off with her closest Austin friends. Or an unexpected adventure to another National Park. Or the fact that friends and strangers will even ask how you're doing at all.
So I hope you find that it's ok to say when you're sad, and then stop there. And instead of wishing it away so quickly, discover that it can be interesting to sit with a feeling, to find out how you respond to it, and what it has to teach you. That way, probably not today or next week or even by 2017, but whenever you're really ready, you might start to see the goodness glittering around its edges.