Unplugged

Last week I hopped on a train to spend a couple days with my daughter. It's rare to have that time with her so I didn't hesitate to accept the invitation.

While I was getting a few things packed my mind was on whether I should take my computer, my iPad or just my phone. Which device would give me the most options to keep my mind occupied and allow me to stay connected to email, messaging, Facebook and Twitter. We're not talking about business interactions here- or work per se. Pure distraction.

The computer won out until the last moment when I realized that along with everything else it would be too heavy to lug while walking the blocks to get to her place. I begrudgingly switched it for my iPad. No DVD's and the wifi on the train is not the best for streaming, so no videos. Damn.

As I was setting up on the train, impatiently waiting for the wifi to kick in, my mind was far from the present. And when it did connect I couldn't wait to check the boxes of all the ways I could put in the time.

This went on for about 45 minutes, until I happened to glance up and see the most beautiful church steeple reaching up into the blue sky. And it hit me. I'm going to miss this beautiful fall day as we make our way through the countryside. What a shame it would be, to have my head buried in my iPad, checking my newsfeed while the real magic was happening right outside my window.

I closed my iPad. I breathed in the life around me. A flock of seagulls taking flight from a farmer's field, countless round bales of hay dotting the freshly mown pasture. A clothesline strung with  sheets flapping in the breeze. a single donkey chewing contently totally unaware and uncaring of the monster roaring past him.

I rested my eyes and mind for awhile, and let the gentle swaying of the train lull me into a comforting, peaceful repose.

Un-plugged.

What I will remember about that little trip was not about how many likes I got on a post, or unimportant emails, or videos I tried to stream. Those things are like sound bites, with no lasting content.

Life outside that window is what I'll remember. And treasure.

Namaste.

From This Day Forward

Last weekend my husband and I celebrated our 39^th wedding anniversary. I have to admit,  I haven't really paid attention to the number during the last few years- it was '30 something' in my brain. So when I realized it was 39 this year, it stopped me in my tracks. Literally. 

Something about that number made me rewind all those years, back to that wonderful day in 1977. Almost four decades together, I recalled some of the highlights, both joyful and sad. If you've been married this many years, you experience a lot together.

I also felt something else this year, something unfamiliar until now.

How did the time go so quickly, followed immediately by this sobering thought- “I don't want it to go so fast. Slow down, slow DOWN!”

But the truth of it is, life does move quickly, and I swear even faster with each passing year. My mother-in-law said that when she turned 90 (and that's a lot of years) that it didn't seem possible that her life contained so many years, and yet still felt so brief.

It's just the way it is.

The important part of all of this is that it is wake up call- a poignant reminder that our moments really are precious- and fleeting. That it's worth pausing during the day- as often as we can- just to appreciate our abundant blessings,  and the lessons we're still learning. To embrace these moments. We can't hold on to time, but we can learn to slow down long enough to breathe life in, and give thanks.

One of the gifts of yoga is to take that time to be with ourselves on the mat. To set our busy life down for a bit, to come home to ourselves, and honour our bodies- and our lives, no matter what they look or feel like. To accept what is- and to humbly, compassionately give thanks for this life we've been given.

If we can practise this, on and off the mat, life may continue to move quickly, but I have a hunch that 'from this day forward' maybe the quantity of years won't be quite as important as the quality.

Namaste.

And This Too..

Yesterday was rough. I had 2 medical procedures and the preparation ahead of time left me feeling very nauseous and headachy. It was one of those days that seemed to go on forever- and not in a good way. :)

 But last night as I was lying in bed, I began reviewing the day, and to my surprise I noticed how many sweet things also happened. Like my husband taking a very busy work day to be with me, the kind messages that our girls, my sisters and good friends sent to wish me well. The second warm blanket the nurse gave me to keep me warm and the way the doctor held my hand until I was asleep. The way my little cat sensed I wasn't well as she quietly waited on the chair outside our bedroom for me. The taste of buttery toast in my mouth when I felt better. And the sense of relief that everything went well.

For some reason, our minds seem to be hard wired to latch on to the unpleasant things. It takes practice to notice the good stuff. And there's always good stuff. It doesn't mean that we can't or shouldn't acknowledge life's challenges. Because we all know that that is part of life as well. And they make the sweet things in life even sweeter.

I like the phrase 'and this too' because it acknowledges an openness to include life in all of its fullness. And yes, it takes practice to remind ourselves that amidst the challenges, are nuggets of gold. Sometimes we have to look harder for them, but they're always there.
Always.

Namaste _/\_

Taming the Monkey Mind

There is an Buddhist expression in meditation called the 'monkey mind'. It describes the jumping around of the mind, unsettled and restless, pausing briefly on a thought that pops up before moving onto the next. Imagine a monkey swinging from branch to branch, back and forth in constant motion. You get the picture. 

Monkey minds are often in an agitated states too, dreading something that may happen in the future or fixating on something that happened in the past. 

I can relate. I can be quite the worrier at times. 

My monkey mind likes to jump ahead, imagining different scenarios, making assumptions that don't yet exist (that often turn out wrong anyway) ), worrying about 'what if'. Granted some mental preparation is often useful in planning ahead, but when it becomes rumination- well that's something else.. and it rarely serves me well. However, when I started a regular meditation and yoga practice, I began to learn that the monkey mind can be gently trained. 

When we are in a pose (asana) we train the mind to be focused on what your body is doing.  It takes time to transition into the pose thoughtfully, to tune into our bodies in an intimate way.  Pranayama (controlling the breath) can work in a similar way. When all our attention is focused on our breath, there is no room for background chatter. Instead the mind is invited to rest on the simple act of breathing in… and breathing out.

Together they work in harmony to calm the mind, and to settle some of our monkey mind chatter. We're given the gift of quiet awareness- the gift of coming home. Home to that  peaceful heart that resides in us all. 

Namaste. _/l\_

The Joy of the Amaryllis

Christmas is a bit of a yin/yang time for me. As much as I dislike all the commercial hype around it, I do love the family time and all the traditions, both old and new that are uniquely ours.

I also love anything natural at this time. I keep my bird feeders full and I so appreciate their beautiful presence throughout the winter months. Even though we don't have one (because of a certain furry family member) I do love real Christmas trees, and the greens that I pick out for my outdoor pot each year. I love the poinsettias, the way my Christmas cactus seems to know when it's time to bloom. And I especially love the amaryllis plant.

There is something so simple, yet so magical about planting this bulb in a pot of soil, and watching it push through the earth – the slim and waxy leaves, the thick stalk with that plump bulb perched on top, day by day reaching for the sky. And finally announcing its grand entrance as it bursts open into not just one but multiple exquisite blooms!

 Amaryllis' are not shy. They bloom like they are the only flower that ever mattered! And unlike the lovely hibiscus flower that only lives a day, the amaryllis hold it's bloom for many days, blessing us over and over again with intoxicating beauty.

This special flower has symbolism attached to it as well. It's a living symbol of love, and ethereal beauty. It also symbolizes strength and determination to continue in the face of life's challenges.

To me it is also about how nature reveals the mystery of life through this plant. We plant a seed within us, nurture it to keep it alive, and then we have the faith that something will grow. It really is not in our hands but we tend it carefully and tenderly and with patience.

And when we're least expecting it grace touches down and something blooms within us, awakening us to a deeper sense of life itself.

For several years I gave my dear mom an amaryllis and I delighted in her joy as the first bloom emerged. And in that spirit of joy I will keep this tradition alive by offering it to other loved ones this holiday season.

May you also find joy in whatever touches you this, and let your heart be as beautiful as the amaryllis boom.


Namaste. _/l\_

Lessons from a Kitten

A week ago I walked into a pet store and walked out with a silver tabby kitten. I knew she had me as soon as the cage opened, and she nuzzled into my neck, purring loudly. We had found each other.

Mimi has breathed new life into our home and my heart is so full of love for this sweet little soul. And already she is teaching me some lessons to take on and off the mat. Here are just a few.

Be Curious. A kitten is full of curiosity! The simplest things are full of intrigue, and she is constantly wondering, exploring, checking things out. Eyes wide and questioning, her world is there to discover.
I can relate. I've always been curious but sometimes I need reminders to look at life through this lens a little more often. No matter how old we are, to have a curious, fresh mind opens the doors to new opportunity, new possibilities in life. It's exciting and rejuvenating to be inquisitive, even with the simplest things. To meet life with a beginner's mind, open and ready to learn more.
And it keeps us young as a kitten!

Be Playful. I love the way that kittens are completely spontaneous and eager to play at the slightest suggestion. Pretending her furry mouse is real, she  tackles it fiercely and carries it to her little bed. Or leaps off the furniture in pursuit of that feather bird. The exuberance of her playful nature brings out the same in me. How long has it been since I sat on the floor and just played with a kitten? Too long. It lightens the heart like nothing else. It also reminds me how important play is and how easily we can forget it amidst the seriousness of our lives. I really think we'd be healthier, happier human beings if we found time to have silly stupid fun. So get out there and play!

Take Naps. I always have to laugh when Mimi plays full out, and then flops. Curled up in a ball or sprawled out on the floor, she's dead to the world for her cat nap. And when she wakes, she's refreshed and ready to go. How often do we take naps when we're tired, even when we're home and have the luxury of doing so? There have been many studies showing the importance of naps to one's health, but still few of us feel like we have permission to lie down for a half an hour to catch a few winks. Napping is so restorative, and much healthier than that extra cup of coffee to keep us going throughout out the day. So consider a little nap when you can, and know it's time well spent.

Trust. From the first time I scooped her up into my arms, this kitten has entrusted me with her life. To feed her, keep her safe and well, to give her kindness and love- to be there when she needs me. It's as simple as that.  It's a humbling reminder of the importance of trusting in life. To know we'll be given what we need, that even in the hard times we'll be taken care of, and that all will be well. Trusting opens the heart to receiving.. and to giving back.

Take Risks: Perched on the back of the sofa, Mimi sees her favourite toy, crouches into tiger mode, quickly assesses whether she'll have a safe landing. But not for long. Taking a flying leap, she pounces on her prey full of confidence. I love watching her fearless little character push her limits. And it reminds me to take my own risks- to push my limits too. It's easy to stay safe in one's own comfort zone, but growth rarely happens there. Sometimes we need to take a flying leap, and dive right in. To be scared… and just do it anyway. More than than not, it's well worth the leap,

All these lessons in just one week. I can't wait to learn more as we grow together..

Namaste.

Just Today

We left for Italy at the end of September. Before boarding (yoga mat in tow, healthy food and running gear), I announced to my husband "I'm sticking with my routine while we're away- eating healthy, running and practising yoga!" With absolute conviction in my voice I think he actually believed it a little. He just smiled and said "We'll do our best."

I think it was approximately 20 minutes from the Italian airport, on the way to our destination when we pulled over at a rest stop for our first espresso and chocolate croissant. And from there, you can pretty well guess how the rest of the trip went. (It was the best).
However when we arrived home and opened the door. I turned to my husband again and jokingly said  "bootcamp begins NOW!"

I had visions of us sliding back into our healthy routine without any interruptions or discomfort. A pretty good plan if it hadn't been for the stomach flu and jet lag.

And the death of my one of the most important people in my life.

So when I finally laced up my running shoes and opened the door on a cool clear morning,  I left without expectations of anything. I headed out to the wooded path, where nature reaches out and pulls me close to her. A place where I can exhale, and fall into her arms.

As I was running along the secluded trail something happened that often happens when I leave my expectations and intentions at the door. My head gets clearer, my mind quieter, my heart lighter. The rules about my life fade out, and all that matters is opening to something greater.

I took the crisp air into my lungs, and noticed all the changes that had taken place in the vegetation since I had been there. It was noticeably fall and this transition comforted me. The sounds were different, and it smelled of golden rods and tiny purple asters.
The world seemed right, the way it was meant to be.

I often have little (and sometimes big) revelations as I run this quiet path. Today it was two simple words. Words that I've heard my daughter say many times. 'Just today'.

Just today, enjoy and be grateful for more things than I can count, including the ability to run this path, for someday I will no longer be able to. Just today, enjoy that I can eat wholesome, healthy food- a bounty of it. And just today remember that it is a privilege to be able to look after this body that has worked so hard for me, and has served me so well for 60 years.

As I finished my run, it didn't seem quite as important to do it all 'just right'. It was enough to simply make the first step and know the rest would follow.

 I turned and looked back at that path as I headed home.

Thank you, I said quietly. For today. Just today.

Just Start Again

Like a lot of people in the summer, I give myself a little slack from regular routines. Summers seem to fly by, and I love spending time outdoors to take full advantage of this beautiful weather.

I also admit I've taken a break from yoga for a couple of weeks, thinking I could just come back to the mat and carry on where I left off.

It was a bit of shocker when I did return to my mat to find that my muscles had tightened up like crazy. I was amazed at how quickly the practice had left my body. It felt like the first time on the mat. How can this be???

I was never naturally flexible, and with age this is even more apparent. I've come to accept that I need to keep running so I can keep running And apparently, this also applies for yoga. 'Use it or lose it' has never been truer.'

It was more than a little humbling when I tried to do my first practice after my (what I thought was a brief) hiatus. I was never super bendy but c'mon... And to add more humility to the mix- I'm a yoga teacher!

Once I got over myself, I realized that just because I felt like I had banked some time, yoga doesn't work that way- at least not for me. I am never going to be naturally flexible, and with my age, and my other activities such as running, boot camp, and cycling- it needs to be part of my daily routine.

So.. what next?

Well, the simple answer is just start again. Give my bruised ego a little hug and simply come back to my mat. I suspect that it won't take long to regain what I seem to have lost over the last couple weeks but even if it takes longer, it will be time well spent.

And just as importantly,  it is also time to come home to myself. To embrace my imperfect self, to connect with my breath, to notice sensations in my body and thoughts that run through my mind.

There are always going to be things that distract, or even derail us at times, in life. And sometimes we can only know what balance is, when we're out of balance. But if we can kindly acknowledge any judgement that comes with that, and just start again- who knows where it might lead?

Today is a new day. A new experience on my mat.

And gratitude that I can begin again.

Namaste._/l\_

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

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

A Smile is Just a Smile. Or is it?

I was on a morning walk recently, and not feeling too great. Tired, back hurting. Just a little blah.

But then, without really thinking about it, I started to smile or say good morning to everyone I met on my walk. My husband does it all the time, but I’m a bit shyer, so it took some courage. It was interesting. Some people didn’t see me at all, some looked surprised and even wary. But more than a few smiled back. I loved watching this happen. It was a transformation before my eyes. Their faces became radiant, full of light. Even the old man plodding along with two canes looked up and returned a smile and firm nod.

Sometimes we don’t think about the small things we can do in a day. Like giving someone a smile. It may be the only smile that person receives that day. It may lift a heavy heart. It may even change the course of a day. It’s a wee gift, but it reminds them that someone sees them, that they matter.

I love Mother Teresa’s quote: “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”

So maybe a smile isn’t just a smile. Maybe it’s a little piece of love that connects us all.

Namaste _/l\_

A Little Help from my Friends

"What would you do if I sang out of tune? Would you stand up and walk out on me...?"

For many years, I was an elementary school teacher and when I retired, the idea of teaching yoga appealed to me for lots of reasons. I'm so thankful I took this path, as it's been more rewarding than I could have ever imagined.

However, it's also been a humbling journey. Over the course of the first year I spent hours and hours of preparation for a one hour class, wondering if anyone would even come. The anticipation was intense, and I felt like I did years ago fresh out of teacher's college- excited but full of nerves! I also set my own bar high, so the learning curve was often full of angst for me. I was impatient with my awkwardness and lack of confidence. Many times after a class I wondered if I should throw in the towel, and try something else. Yes, humbling for sure.

Yet underneath it all, what kept me going was a deep love of yoga, as well as the unending encouragement of my family and beloved teacher.

And two very special students.

Every Wednesday the door would open and Bill and Sandy would bring their smiling faces and good hearts into the studio as they cheerfully threw down their mats. I would teach my carefully constructed lesson to the best of my ability,  and always hoped they would come back. And back they did come. Time and time again.

Their loyalty and dedication to that Wednesday night class meant everything to me. They gave me the opportunity to hone my skills as a teacher, an essential and necessary part of growing and staying on that learning curve until it began to feel more natural. Their steadfast presence slowly convinced me I did have the potential to be a good teacher, and to just keep learning and growing. Gradually I realized that I wasn't teaching from my head anymore. I was teaching from my heart.

Over time, more students came and stayed, and we now have a precious little kula, practising our love of yoga and enjoying great camaraderie together. It is the most wonderful feeling to be a part of this community, to grow along with my students and to witness their journey alongside mine.

We can't always believe in ourselves right away but when others hold the space for us until we are ready, it is a gift like no other.

Thanks Bill and Sandy for holding that space for me. I am forever grateful.

"We get by with a help from our friends."

Yes we do. We sure do.

Namaste. _/l\_

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vf7MrwldawY