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

The Song of the Chickadee

 "If the sight of the blue skies fills you with joy, if a blade of grass springing up in the fields has power to move you, if the simple things of nature have a message that you understand, rejoice, for your soul is alive".

Eleonora Duse

On my mat this morning, I heard the sound of the wind whipping the leaves of the trees outside, and the rain hitting the window pane. The clouds were so gloomy, and I felt a bit gloomy myself.

Then suddenly I heard the unmistakable sound of the chickadee. This sweet bird has a number of songs, but the one I heard today was 'Fee Bee'- strong and clear and so uplifting.

It made me smile. and this yoga post took shape.

Yoga invites us to bring ourselves to the mat just the way we are. Whether we've had a challenging day, or are dealing with an injury- it really doesn't matter. It's about embracing where we are in our lives- physically, mentally and emotionally. And bringing compassion and kindness to all of it.

What I have also found, is that even if I am going through a difficult time in my life, yoga offers me the opportunity to come home to myself- to quiet my mind through the breath, and to hear and see and experience the unexpected, delightful things that are also available to me. Things like hearing the chickadee outside my window- imagining that little bird balancing on that windy branch, singing it's heart out.

Moments like this lift my own heart, and help me remember that joy is always available to me in those tiny beautiful every day moments-even during the dark times.

So I invite you to come to the mat - however you might be feeling- and to embrace it all. And if by chance there are any challenges you might be facing, to know that there is also the invitation to open to joy- to hear the sweet song of the chickadee on rainy, blustery day in April. And who knows..maybe you'll even hear the song in your own heart too.

Namaste. _/l\_

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=shQHdkYMWQA://www.youtube.com/watch?v=shQHdkYMWQA

All to the Mat

On the days that follow the recent death of my mother, the yoga expression 'bring it all to the mat' plays over in my head like a soothing mantra.
Bring it all to the mat..

This continues to be one of the most meaningful aspects of yoga for me as the years go by. The idea that no matter how I feel at any given day, hour or minute, I can bring it to the mat. I don't have to be brave, or witty, or full of joy to come to my practice. I can bring my grief, my sorrow, my stubbornness and my guilt. I can flop down and cry if I need to, or push myself harder than I thought possible. I can stop in delight to listen to the song of the cardinal outside my window,  or stare with wonder at the pink sky as dawn announces the new day.

I can close my eyes and feel my heart beating inside my chest, and the rise and fall of each breath as it enters and leaves my body.
I can simply... be.

Contrary to the ads where beautiful bodies and serene expressions seem to define yoga, I believe it is far, far greater than this. Rather than rising to an impossible ideal, for me it is about bringing my authentic self to the mat- no matter what that looks like. It's about having a safe and accepting place to welcome myself home, about being curious when challenging emotions arise, or noticing how one emotion can change into another. It's about inviting my body to show up- no matter what age I am, or size I am, or shape I'm in. It's about bringing my whole big beautiful messy self to the mat and celebrating it with a wide open heart.

Imagine the possibilities that could be born from that? 

So today, as I unroll that long piece of rubber and take off my socks, I offer my practice to all that is- the unfolding of this perfectly imperfect self, the blessings of each moment, and the incredible mystery that lies beneath it all.

Namaste. _/l\_

The Guest House

The end of a quiet week. I'm grateful for that.

Last Saturday was the funeral of my dearest Mom, and it has been, and will continue to be a time of coming home to myself as I let this sacred journey unfold inside of me.

Grief has no rules, nor knows no road map. It seems to take us where we need to go, in it's own time. For now it's still fresh, and cloaked with soft numbness. But I'm sure that will change into something else.  In fact, the only thing I can be sure of, is that it will change.

Deeply personal, we each experience loss in a our own way. There are no right or wrongs, nor should there be.

For me, this poem 'The Guest House" by Rumi is a tender reminder to welcome all the guests that come knocking at my heart as I take each tentative step forward. To embrace each one with humility. And above all, to be grateful for their presence as I do believe that each has been sent to help guide me down this path.

Namaste
Namo Amida Bu. _/l\_

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

Rumi