Many Paths to Mindfulness

I often speak of developing mindfulness in our practice of yoga. When we come to the mat we are invited to slow down the busyness of our thoughts, become aware of our breath and the inner landscape of our physical, and emotional states. In doing so, we can begin to take this awareness into our daily lives, even when we don't realize we are doing so. A subtle clarity can begin to grow that gives us a perspective about life we may not have had before. The more we practise, the more it can grow.

Meditation, like yoga draws our attention inward, to the breath. Thoughts arise, we notice them and acknowledge them, and return time and time again to the breath. Over time and with practice, meditation can have many beneficial physical and emotional effects such as calming the mind, and lowering blood pressure, as well as profound shifts in one's perception of impermanence and interconnectedness.

But I also believe there are many paths to mindfulness. I'd like to share a few that have helped me along the way.

Nature. There is a wooded path close by and I've been going for quiet walks there lately with the intention of just being present to everything around me. When I consciously open my senses like this in nature, all kinds of  things seem to drop down inside of me. Like the ground covered with daisies and little yellow orchids, wee apples growing on the wild apple tree, a symphony of bird song. The soft breeze on my face, the earth beneath my feet. It's an incredibly grounding thing to be in nature. Somehow my small little mind becomes more expansive when I take in the wonder of everything around me. It's comforting too- somehow witnessing those cycles of nature that happen each and every year, makes the world seem right.

It is a time to quiet my mind. There is a palpable energy in nature that gently descends on me if I surrender the busyness of my mind, and the reminder that I am connected to the trees, the sky, the stream, the birds. I can't live with without nature.

When I don't get out for a walk, I often look outside. I take in the changes around me, the way the sky looks, or the way the wind is moving the leaves on the trees, the shape of the moon. I open the windows to hear birdsong, or the sound of tree frogs in the summer evening. This summer I planted a container garden on our deck.  Each day, I notice something new as I discover my first little cherry tomato, or the jagged bite marks on my fresh kale leaves. 

Even setting a single flower bloom in a dish of water  is enough to open to the miracle of life.

Photography. Recently I decided to take a basic photography course to learn more about seeing the world through fresh eyes. When I have my camera, it is often a reminder to look closely at things in ways I routinely miss. Simple things, like the way the wooden clothes pins lean this way and that as they hold my t-shirts snugly in their grip. The geometric lines made by the shadows from a walking bridge. The monarch butterfly, wings opening slowly and methodically, as it rests on the globe thistle bloom. The way the light hits the face of Buddha on my shrine in the morning. 

The inquiry, and curiousness of new eyes looking at the world around me. That is the real gift of my camera.

Running. Believe it or not, this is one of the most mindful practices in my life. Contrary to reports of feeling high from all the endorphins, this definitely  hasn't been my experience. Running is hard work for me, even though my pace seems minimally quicker than a fast walk! But what it has taught me, is to open to the discomfort. I've learned to gently acknowledge and hold all the chatter in my head telling me I should stop, it's too hot, I have too far to go and instead stay steady and just carry on, knowing that this too will change. I've often started a run thinking it'll be a write off, only to discover that if I stay with the discomfort long enough, it just may just change into something else. And it usually does, often with a positive ending.

Running has taught me that my predictions and assumptions are often faulty and it's way more interesting to just wait and see what unfolds. And even more importantly, that if I can stay open and steady with some suffering at some point it will inevitable change into something else. The beauty of impermanence. 

Cooking. Cooking is a deeply mindful practice for me. Before I begin, I gather my ingredients together and in that moment, I always feel a  rush of gratitude. Gratitude for the food that is abundantly available, the ability to have the time to make nourishing meals, the colours, smells and textures of each ingredient, the sound of my knife as I chop the vegetables, the aroma of the soup coming wafting into the kitchen. 

I am always humbled and present when I cook, always deeply grateful. Love is in my food.

A Silent Meal. Thich Nhat Hanh wrote a lovely little book on "How to Eat." I keep it on our dining table and sometimes my husband or I may pick it up before the meal and read a short passage. This is from his book. A real gem.

"Happiness is possible during the meal, and silence helps enormously. You may want to pick one meal a week to eat in silence. A silent meal helps you to come back to yourself and arrive in the present moment. A truly silent meal includes turning off the noise in your head as well as finding a quiet place to enjoy your meal. You may like to choose the eat the same meal every week silently. This can be a meal you eat by yourself, or if you have family or friends who want to join you for this meal, that is wonderful. Silence helps you return to your mindful breathing. You can stop the internal mental chatter, relax, breath, and smile. Such a meal can provide many moments of happiness."

Babies and pets. For me, engaging with a baby is a true gift. Touching a baby's skin or watching a baby laugh- or cry- or sleep- or play- never fails to draw my awareness to the present moment. Babies have a way of captivating and opening my heart in a way that is like no other. They reveal life in a sacred, precious way and time seems to stand still when I'm with a baby.

Pets have a similar effect on me. Although we don't have one ourselves, I always love when our daughters bring their cats home with them for a stay. To listen to a soft purr, or gaze upon one sitting on top of the mantel with her paws tucked in, to feel the weight of a soft body leaning into my leg, or a stroke of the silky back are moments that become complete in themselves.

Often I'll stop at the pet store and spend a few moments with the kittens and cats that come in from the shelters. Speaking quietly to each one, sometimes a a little stroke of fur between the bars in the cage. It is a gift to have these moments, a mindful practice that will stay with me for hours.

Conversations. Sometimes I try to practice mindfulness in conversations and interactions with others. Listening deeply, taking in the person, opening my heart to them. It can be as brief as an exchange with the young man who is checking out my groceries, or long and deep with a daughter who needs her mom. All it takes is my full attention. Being present to another human being.

Reaching Out to Others. Continuing in this vein, some of the most mindful, life changing experiences have been when I've reached out to another, to be helpful in some way. I've experienced this in all realms of my life, from a relatively brief period of time, to years.

When I take the attention off myself, and look at the needs of someone else, it is a profoundly heart opening gift, and one that continues to call out to me.

Writing. Writing in my blog has turned out to be a very useful practice. Often on walks, I will think of a theme, and when I get home, write about it.  For me, writing helps me to clarify and crystallize concepts that stay with me longer than if they were just thoughts. It helps me to ponder and/or prioritize my spiritual values and hopefully by sharing it helps others do the same. I must focus entirely on my thoughts when I write, and for me this has become a beautiful, mindful practice.

Mindful Mondays. Contemplative practice is important to me, but I admit, I don't always walk the talk. Meditation, chanting, journal/blog writing, yoga, reading spiritual teachings are all solitary practices that I value but truthfully don't take enough time to do. So for the next few weeks, I've started something called Mindful Mondays. My computer (which is my biggest distraction) is out of bounds except for writing in my blog. During this time, I'm dedicating the day to these practices. It is true luxury to have this day to devote to these activities, and I'm very grateful for this.

These are just a few of the practices that come to mind in my own life. Many are small, and need nothing more than my time. But each has a place for me,  and continues to help me appreciate this precious life and live it in a mindful manner.

Perhaps one or speaks to you, or asks the question within your own heart:

"Where can I find mindfulness in my own life?"

Namaste.  

Namo Amida Bu. _/l\_

Top 10 Tips for New (And Not so New) Yoga Teachers

When I retired from teaching second graders, I wasn't sure what was ahead of me. After basking in a whole lot of free time, I turned my attention to 'what next..' I was still young, and knew there were opportunities out there for me, I just had to start opening to them.

One such opportunity was the idea of becoming a yoga teacher. At the time, I had only dabbled in the practice of yoga, but it did resonate with me, and I felt with my teaching skills, it might be a good fit. What I didn't realize what a gift it would become on so many levels in my life.

I was very fortunate to have been guided (divine intervention I think!) to a group of exceptional teachers in my training and beyond. And kulas that have been so supportive. It really is a wonderful community to belong to, and grow with, which I continue to be so grateful for.

It has been about five years now, since my training and I was thinking the other day how much I've learned so much about myself as a teacher. I just wanted to share a few of these tips- some practical, some conceptual, especially for those new teachers out there who may need a little help along the way.

1) Be patient. Be very patient. It takes time to build confidence and knowledge, especially if teaching-and/or-teaching is something new for you. In my case, it was both. I had been a primary school teacher, but teaching adults is very different, and although very rewarding, more intimidating early on. I was also quite new to yoga, so I had a lot to learn and the more I learned, the more I realized I didn't know! It takes time.. and that time contains so much value.

2) Be disciplined. Preparing good lessons (even now) takes time and discipline. I prioritize my day around my class, and make sure I give myself lots of time to think through the lesson, as well as practise it physically so I have a sense of the flow, the timing etc. This has become easier as time goes on, but still- a quality lesson takes time, and setting that time aside is well worth it, for your students and yourself.

3) Be organized. Make sure you have your lesson, props, music, or any other paraphernalia you need to take to class! It really helps, as I have learned from my own experience a time or two when I arrived to find my iPod needed recharging, or the lesson I had laboured over had been left at home. These things can really throw off a teacher, especially a novice one. So take the time to check you have everything you need.

4) Give yourself enough time to get to the studio, and set up. It's always better to be a little early than late. And unless to teach from home, or you are within walking distance to your studio, unforeseen things can happen along the way! Road construction, subway delays, heavy traffic and other delays can derail you. Don't assume you can get always there with the same amount of time- be generous and leave a little earlier to avoid the fluster factor. Students don't want a stressed out yoga teacher!

5) Keep learning. No matter how experienced you are, there is always more to learn. When I attend as a student, I have a little notebook beside my mat, and jot down any notes- sometimes just a phrase, or word that I want to remember for my own class. Devour learning in whatever way works for you. For me, my teachers are #1 in my education. I have learned an exceptional amount from them as a student. But I also read blogs, books, take workshops and watch videos for new ideas to keep the practice fresh. And some of the best knowledge can come from your own home practice which is so essential as a student and a teacher. I have had my greatest revelations as I quietly tap into my inner awareness on the mat. It continues to be a challenge for me to have a consistent home practice. But I'm working on it!

6) Be compassionate towards yourself. This has been one of my greatest learnings. I tend to set the bar high for myself, and on many occasions have felt discouraged about how a class played out.  But with the support and feedback from my teachers, my husband (also my student), exercising my own self compassion, and knowing that my love of yoga was greater than the disappointment of a botched class-  it has paid off.  As inexperienced teachers we need to just stay steady with our vulnerabilities and hang in there by 'just coming back to the mat' time and time again. And even with some experience under our belts, there will be times when we're not feeling our best, physically or emotionally. It happens. We're human. Keep a sense of humour, a lightness of heart. It will serve you well throughout your journey.

7)  Sometimes we can get so caught up or nervous about performing as teachers, we can forget about our students.  Greet them warmly, appreciate their presence, listen to their concerns, whether they are physical or emotional. Inquire if they have any issues that may need modifications in the practice. Thank them for coming, and ask how they feel after the class and if they have any questions. Even if they only come to one class,  approach them as if they made that class special, just by being there.
And if I am nervous, and take the focus off myself to my students, it also helps to steady my nerves and keeps me more in my heart. A win win for all.

8) Do you know teachers who seem to have it all- a comprehensive knowledge of all aspects of yoga? I do, several in fact.  And they continue to inspire me to grow as well. But some of us have more obvious strengths- and weaknesses. I count myself in that category. But what I have learned, is to celebrate those strengths and not take them for granted. We all have our gifts- in yoga and in life- and we often don't acknowledge them fully. Instead it's easier to see where we're lacking and focus on those inadequacies. Make a conscious effort to embrace and appreciate what you do well and just keep pluggin' along to learn more in the other areas that are not so strong. It will happen.

9) Try to keep your yoga class well rounded. I usually have a brief yoga talk at the beginning and a theme for the class to help me incorporate a spiritual and/or philosophical element. It often relates to something in my life as so it's relatable. But do whatever feels natural for you. And of course, integrate some pranayama into your practice as well. Sometimes we can become so focused on the physical practice that the whole class revolves around that. Yoga is so much more than that. It's important to offer teachings related to the heart, as much as the physical being. Sometimes that's what students remember most.

10) Be the best version of you. I remember at the beginning trying so hard to memorize scripted lessons because I didn't have the confidence to trust my own language.  What I've learned is that it is more authentic, and believable to explain something in my own words, even if the language is simple.  Students don't expect a teacher to be perfect, they just want someone who is present, engaged and trying his/her best.

So there you have it. Just a few little tips I've gathered over the years as a teacher.  Maybe it's worth it to take a few minutes and reflect on what you've learned too. Time to contemplate where we've been can be a very useful practice in helping to shape our vision of the future.

I wish you a full and rich teaching experience. You have everything you need, within you.

Namaste. _/l\_

Endings....and Beginnings.

“Endings are important because when a memory emerges we are invited to think back and speculate on a deeper meaning... a life lesson, a piece of wisdom, a gift we couldn't see at the time." 

In yoga, we talk a lot about cultivating mindfulness, training our mind to be in the present moment. And there is so much value in that. So often our minds are either focused on the past or the future. Have you ever sat down to eat a beautiful meal, but don't really taste it because your mind is elsewhere? I sure have. Our minds like to busy thinking. And it is indeed a practice to slow them down.

However, I also think there is value at looking at the past. The past holds so many life lessons and experiences in which we can grow from in a multitude of ways. They shape who we are, and can influence who we become.

The other day my husband brought up a little photo album of my marathon five years ago. It was on the day the Ottawa marathon was taking place and he thought it would be interesting to look back and reminisce about that experience we intimately shared together. I confess it is still sitting on the counter, unopened. I keep saying I'll get to it, but other 'more important' things (and 'not so important' things) seem to take precedence. But I know once I open that book, a flood gate of tender memories will fill my heart.

For my 60th birthday, my husband also wrote out 60 wonderful memories to reflect back on. Rather than reading them all at once, he reads a few of them to me in bed every week, and I take time to let them sink in a little, before drifting off to sleep. They fill me with so many emotions, mostly happy, some sad, but each one rich in its own way.

Obviously, not all endings are happy. Some of the saddest endings were when my parents died, and also some beloved friends. Or when we dropped our twin daughters off at universities in separate cities as they began their life without us. Or when my newly married daughter and her husband moved to Scotland this summer. Or when we left our sweet home after 25 years, the home where we raised these two girls, and in a community that supported us so much.

But even so, there is always a beginning that follows an ending. Even though my parents are now both gone, they live inside of me, and the tender memories I have, also live on. Our daughters are both strong independent women who are making their way through life in a way I couldn't be more proud of, and we continue to have a very close relationship that has only deepened in time, in spite of the distance between us. The home we moved to has served us so very well, and we appreciate it more with each passing year.

The value of reflecting on these endings, is what I learned from their life experience, about myself and about life. How I hopefully grew from each. And whether they were stressful or carefree, tragic or joyful, how each one was a gift to be cherished in its own unique way.

For me, it is a practice to not only be mindful of the present, but to resist over thinking the future.  To take the time to reflect on the endings and all the richness they contain.

To take it all in.. the memories, and the gratitude for all the life lessons learned. It might just make the beginnings even richer.

Namaste _/l\_

Just Imagine.

A couple weeks ago my husband and I went on a foraging adventure that took us into various forests in the nearby area. It was led by an expert guide who has an abundance of knowledge and experience in this area.

It was fascinating. For years, we've walked in nearby woods, never realizing these plants had so much to them. Sometimes we took the time to appreciate the varying colours, textures and shapes, or to admire the delicate flowers that decorated the landscape. But who knew they could also be a wonderful food source?

As we made our way through the forest, we began to see these plants through different eyes, looking closer at each them and appreciating their unique qualities.  Plants such as day lily stems, garlic mustard, spotted trout leaves and garlic mustard. Pheasant back mushrooms fanning out the trunks and tightly curled fiddlehead ferns about to leaf out into their perfect loveliness.

With guidance to harvest each sustainably, we gathered our bounty and headed for home at which time I created a foraging feast, using recipes to show case each one.

It was a very memorable day for us, one that has stayed with me in the days to follow. And in quiet reflection, I have thought of how it also taught me more about life, too.

In addition to feeling very humbled and grateful for Mother Nature's offerings, it also reminded me of  how easy it is to take things for granted, to rush by and move on to the next thing. Many of us lead busy lives, but how much time do we dedicate to taking in all the blessings that surround us each and every day?

So for a moment I invite you to take a few moments to try this little practice. It will take a minute, but the effects may be felt long after you finish.

"Sitting comfortably, quietly, close your eyes, and draw your awareness inward, following your in breath and your out breath.

Then imagine taking a walk in the forest, with the only intention to be still and to take in this gift with fresh new eyes and a mind full of wonder. Look around at all the exquisite colours and shapes and textures of the plants, the tiny insects all working busily. The sight and songs of the birds, and the chipmunks and squirrels scurrying around in the underbrush.

Then look up the blue sky and gaze for a long time at the billowy clouds floating past. 
Invite this woodland miracle into your own being. Be with the sensations that come up, and let them quietly envelop you.

Now slowly open your eyes and look around."

Can you take a little bit of this into your day? Can you pause from time to time, looking deeply with fresh new eyes, a mind full of wonder, and a heart full of thanks?

It takes time to look at life- all forms of it. It takes intention. But in doing so, there is so much more that is revealed to us, in this quiet, mindful, contemplative gesture.

Namaste. _/l\_

It's All About the Balance

Last weekend my husband and I went to Point Pelee, a beautiful provincial park and popular resting place for birds in their annual migration. It's something we've wanted to do for years, and this year seemed to be the perfect time. It was a lovely trip. We expected to see trees full of exotic birds -which we didn't- but did see some rare ones with the help of our expert guide.

It was fascinating to witness this extraordinary annual event. These little birds travel over thousands of miles, risking their lives at every turn as they make their way over the vast expanse of ocean, through inclement weather, often flying at night to avoid predatory birds. But still everything inside their beings tells them they must do this, in order to survive.

It was humbling to think about this, and I was such awe of their strength and determination. 

It also made me think of some of the big goals I've had in my life. One such physical goal was to run a marathon a few years back. I didn't think it was possible, but I wanted to try anyway. So I committed to training faithfully, and with my husband at my side to help me run it, I did indeed run my first- (and only!)- marathon.

Along with the training however, I needed to balance it with proper rest and a healthy diet to support my body. You can't do a marathon using just brute force and determination. Just like those little birds  resting and feeding at  Point Pelee I too had to refuel and restore in order to continue my journey's quest.

Sometimes, especially in our culture -we don't always value those times of resting and refueling. We can feel guilty about sitting in our lawn chairs on a warm day instead of doing all the jobs that are waiting for us. But it really is all about balance. And if we practice that in our lives, I think we can be even more productive when it comes to training for our own marathons in life- whether we choose them, or they choose us.

Yoga teaches the importance of balance, and how it can help us in so many areas of our lives, including the times of great challenge and adversity. 

So when you come to your mat, just appreciate the time you're taking from your busy life- to slow down, restore and refuel.

Your mind, body and spirit will thank you.

Namaste  _/l\_

                                                                      

One of the birds we did see- Magnolia Warbler. Beautiful!!!

The Wonder of it All

Spring has officially sprung.

Earlier in the week, I was very aware it would be a matter of hours before the trees would be in full leaf, and the magnolia blossoms would jubilantly burst open, offering their exquisiteness to the world. Trilliums and wild leeks would find their way up through the dense earth, blanketing the forest floor. The brilliance of the daffodils, dancing in the breeze, would adorn neighbouring gardens, and the delicate wild apple blossoms would awaken shyly to the warmth of the sun.

This is a fleeting, transitory window of time as a quiet but deliberate transformation takes place, each bud unreservedly unfolding and announcing its glorious arrival. When I was younger I missed this precious time more years than I would like to admit. I would look out and be astonished that the trees had been transformed, all frilly and green with fresh new life.

However, I have grown to anticipate and treasure this sweet, tender, tentative time.

One morning this week I was up very early and looked out into the soft pink sky still darkened with  the quiet remnants of the night. In the foreground was the most glorious silhouette of a cascading tree branch, covered in countless buds about to open fully to this new day.
It was a moment of sheer child like wonder, as if I had never seen such a sight even though this miracle takes place each year. But it was also a poignant realization that I was beholding something so precious and momentary. I felt deeply humbled to be invited to witness this new life unfolding, knowing in a few hours it would be forever changed.

There is a quote that comes to mind about that morning. It reminds me to pause many times a day in wonder of this life, to be amazed and curious and astonished by it all. Springtime, summer, winter and fall. All it requires of me is to stand in awe, and fill my heart with its grace.

"When our eyes are graced with wonder, the world reveals its wonders to us. So much depends on how we look at things. The quality of our looking determines what we come to see."

John Donohue.

Namaste. _/l\_

Namo Amida Bu.

Worth the Wait

To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.”

— Audrey Hepburn

I was inspired by a blog post my daughter wrote recently. I'll include the link at the end.

In summary, it's about how many of us can't wait for the spring to finally show up. With our long winters, which seem to get longer each year, we're impatient for that warm weather, to shed our coats and boots- for good! We want the grass to green up, the flowers to bloom, the buds on the trees to pop- NOW already.

And some of us who have gardens are anxiously awaiting for signs of those tiny shoots poking through the earth, still chilled by the season past. But in taking another look, there is more that can be seen, and felt.

My daughter's words say it best: "Today I came out to investigate my garden. There is a lot of dead stuff in there. Dried leaves and sticks and weeds. All of it brown and grey and very, very dead. I want to take a rake and pull it all out. Clean it up. Leave nothing but rich brown soil and fresh green shoots.

But I can't. Because of those fresh green shoots. They need the dead stuff. They need it still. They need the mulch. And they need time... more time.

If I took a rake and dragged its stiff, pointy bristles across the soil, those tender, precious shoots and their tender, precious roots would be ripped out, along with the dead-looking but nutrient-dense dead stuff I want to evacuate". 

This made me think of times when I've been in a rush to get rid of some old pattern or state of mind or to have a fresh new and improved body. Or as Camille says- "to take an eraser and rub out the messy scribbles in our lives"..

There is so much 'mulch'- that nutrient rich stuff- that lies within our imperfect selves. It is just as important in life-for without it, we couldn't grow those new tender new shoots that spring forward when the time is right.

And as Camille says- "I need to resist the urge to clean up the mess and let the new life happen on its own time: painfully slow, but certain.

And it is certain. Because even after the harshest, longest winter, spring always comes".

So when we come to our mats this evening, bring your patience and compassion along with you. Bring your optimism, and your faith.

Because no matter what season you may be in- there is always something green growing down inside that mulch.

Namaste. _/l\_

"When All You Can Do is Wait" by Camille DePutter

http://www.camilledeputter.com/blog/2015/4/26/n0dskh7a617xksogn1kli630h8ue3a