gift from the sea

“The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach – waiting for a gift from the sea.”  ~Anne Morrow Lindbergh

 

Yesterday evening I stood at the waters edge and witnessed one of the most amazing sunsets I've ever seen. It was simply amazing. It's the photo directly above these words. The one with varying shades of orange, pink, blue, black, and white.

 

I've been blessed to visit with the ocean and sea seven times this year. Truly a gift for an ocean loving landlocked Kentucky girl. The pictures above are from my visits to the Atlantic Ocean, Pacific Ocean, Gulf of Mexico and Caribbean Sea.

 

I've gotten the best of both worlds....some trips were purely for fun and pleasure, some were for work, some were a combination of both.

 

I can't pick a favorite, but this trip I'm on now feels very poignant for many reasons.

 

The ocean is a place of miracles for me. I stand at the edge of water and it's hard for me to believe that such beauty exists in the world. After losing so much this season, I am slowly finding myself with each walk and each wave that washes to the shore. Each sunset whispers something new to my soul and helps me to feel connected to the loved ones we've lost.

 

This is the most precious gift of all this Christmas season, the most prized gift from the sea.

saving grace

 

Little moments they come and go, sweep away the heaviness of my heart, and save me daily. Thank you grace.

 

Thank you for healing trips to the mountains. Time to heal alongside Andy. Time with my family and amazing views of the mountains. A Christmas trip to the beach with family. Wishing, hoping, praying for more healing.

 

Thank you for that sweet dog that came to us on my birthday, just two weeks before we got pregnant. Nico has left my belly yet he remains in my heart and I think of him each time I snuggle Zoe close.

 

Thank you for the option of staying close to home. For sitting at our table, crying while I cut ultrasound pictures and paste them into an art journal. For sipping hot tea and looking out the window while the world passes by. All on Monday, a workday.

 

Thank you for quiet mornings in a cozy bed. Hot liquid goodness that lifts my spirits. Sleeping dogs. Rilke poetry and the way it makes me feel normal when he speaks so intimately of death. Putting pen to paper and writing letters to Nico.

 

Thank you for friends. The one who understands why I can't hold her newborn baby right now. The one that gifts me with the words by Mary Oliver. The one that sends me a video of her singing "O Holy Night" and reads to me, "I want to fly" and I bust out in a fit of laughter. The far away long ago friend that sends a candle that I light each night in honor of Nico. The one that supports all of me and helps me to see I get to choose my truth.

 

Thank you for the late evening walks in the cemetery with Andy, the dogs, the moon, and the stars.

 

Thank you for inspiration. And action.

 

Thank you for books and words and emails that soothe my soul and awaken joy.

 

Thank you for the treehouse that embraces me like a warm hug each time I enter. For the students who bring themselves and their All to our classes. For the teachers who are beyond a doubt the best, most dedicated, most wonderful people I could ever hope for.

 

Thank for the light of candles, the sparkle of the trees. Santa on a sleigh. Buying the perfect gift. The painted bird from India. An ornament with Nico's name hanging on the tree. Frank Sinatra holiday music and mexi mocha hot chocolate.

 

Thank you for the student who writes an email that sings like a song. And the one who sends an Oscar the Grouch poem that speaks of "broken and beautiful, fractured and rare, missing pieces that used to be there."

 

Thank you for a husband that loves me when I sob, weep, and rage. And when I dance, laugh, and love.

 

Thank you Yoga, for keeping me deeply connected to my head and my heart. For being patient, waiting, staying with me while I do this work. For willing back to the now.  For stretching my body and my heart. And helping me to love wide open.

 

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Saving Grace.

 

 

be gentle

I consider myself blessed  beyond measure to have awesome, wise, wholehearted, and compassionate teachers around me at Barefoot Works. Meredith Swim hits it outta the yoga ballpark with this one. Grab a cuppa hot liquid goodness and savor these words.

 

 

“Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.”

This beloved line from Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata gently guides me back to Self. Posted on the inside of my bedroom door (and for good reason), I catch snippets of the poem as I go about my day. Each time I read the line above, I am reawakened to its wisdom. The mental chatter dissolves as I take a conscious breath and I ground into the Present. I become aware of the emotional tension I’m holding in my shoulders, the anxiety grabbing my belly, and a tightness constricting my flow of my breath. My thoughts are a running wheel of negativity.

 

Be Gentle, the poem soothes. These past few months I’ve tried to be more compassionate toward myself, but just as Ehrmann advices it takes discipline to be gentle and kind to myself.

My Inner Critic (“Glee” fans, envision Sue Sylvester in the role) enjoys belittling my moments of triumph and amplifying my Bridget Jones mess-ups, such as referring to sequin skirts as sequence skirts in an email to a fashionista friend. “And you call yourself an English minor,” Sue sneers.

Cultivating compassion is not as sweet and rosy as I thought it once sounded. Instead of repressing the negative thought and replacing it with a cheery one, the Art of Compassion encourages me to greet the thought and deconstruct the threads of that misperception.

Similar to peeling back an onion, this unveiling process reveals old thought patterns and beliefs I’ve been harboring about my body and my personal worth. Sue’s voice sounds crueler and I can get easily believe in the unleashing of insecurities I’ve been holding onto since middle school (dang! I thought I was passed all that!!).

Here the real test begins and so does the genuine healing. I express compassion to the part of me that is self-conscious about my physical flaws. “Of course,” says the voice of Compassion (featuring Louise Hay, my favorite motivational healer), “in this competitive culture where you are constantly bombarded by images of perfected women how could you not be self-conscious about those scars on your legs?”

 

When I find my thoughts are self-sabotaging my personal worth, I travel back to the first time in elementary school I felt that pain. This journey to my fifth grade self is difficult. At times, I simply don’t want to revisit the memories, but that’s all the more reason to do so. I arrive to my Harry Potter loving fifth grade self and I tell her she’s worthy all happiness and greatness and that she is perfectly adequate. Her healing is my 22 year old self’s healing. So when I see that cute guy at the coffee shop I can feel truly worthy of his Ryan Gosling like smile (legit ;).

Max Ehrmann must have understood the inner Sue Sylvester to write, Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. Practicing compassion toward yourself takes discipline, but it’s a discipline that frees yourself from the baggage of unnecessary negativity and thus, invites greater empathy for others into your heart.

 

So, as the holiday rush arrives, may you, sweet Yogis and blog visitors, be gentle with yourselves. Remember you are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; You have a right to be here. And you have every right to hold yourself in a compassionate light. 

 

the possibility of words

Just when I didn't think I coud adore Misty Pittman any more....she goes and woos me with her words. Inspiring thing she is....Enjoy Friends & Yogis.

 

Words sure are a funny little thing.

 

I’m ending this month by reflecting on the past year, on all the great moments and not so great moments. I’ve celebrated. I’ve let go. And now I’m giving thanks. I would like to share with you one of the funny little things I am thankful for, for it has helped lead me to exactly where I am today.

 

Who here has read this blog, word for word, beginning to present? Is that a weird thing to do? ‘Cause that is exactly what I did about 2 ½ years ago. I can’t remember how it started. I had taken classes at Barefoot Works, back when it was a teeny, tiny studio across the road. At this particular time, though, I was not a student and it had been a couple years since I had stepped foot on my yoga mat. Somehow I started reading Sharon’s blog. I read it the way some people read gossip magazines. I was hooked and would sit on the couch and scroll from entry to entry on my BlackBerry. I would sit at stoplights and speed read through the next story.

 

 

It could have been anyone’s blog. I didn’t know the author personally. I was enamored with the little life I saw being carved out for this person. And I was excited. Excited because I started to envision so much possibility for my own life. Here was this regular ol’ gal from the mountains of Kentucky, chasing her dreams, and living to tell the tale. My rogue free spirit was hooked. Life started to roll.

 

One persons public journal led me on a journey I didn't think was possible.

 

So what happened? Well, my husband called Sharon, purchased a month of yoga classes for me, and told her about my little blog reading obsession. I was mortified, btw.

 

I started exploring yoga in a much deeper way then I was used to and I was in love. I was sure I wanted to teach yoga. I had dreamed of it for a long time, along with being a massage therapist, bookstore owner, and seller of homemade tomato sauce at the farmer’s market. In essence, I dream of being self-employed.

 

I put off a teacher training opportunity. And then another. And then another. Many excuses, many reasons. I was getting ready to put off another, sure that it was impossible. Somehow it wasn’t. Even after sending my confirmation email, I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing. Cold feet? Big time.

 

Fast forward and now I’m teaching yoga classes. With real yoga students. I’m slowly conquering my biggest fear (public speaking) and my confidence is growing daily. I see myself in a whole new light.

 

And this blog that I am so thankful for? I still read it faithfully. And I even get to guest post from time to time.

 

Words sure are a funny little thing.

mr. sparkle

Source: hereiamloulou.blogspot.com via Sharon on Pinterest

This morning I left the studio to come to Coffee Times (this seems to be a trend with my stories) as it is my second office.

As I turned left onto New Circle, a bright eyed, bushy tailed man was standing was his sign. His sign of for our local car wash, Mr. Sparkle. This morning he was bundled up in a coat and hot as cold temps have descended upon us here in Lexington. Yet he waved, smiled, and enthusiastically gave me a big thumbs up.

I see him every time I drive to and from the studio. In the summer when it's warm I have my windows down and I'm donning my pink Hello Kitty sunglasses, he yells..."I love your sunglasses!"

No matter the season.
No matter the time.
No matter the temperature.

He greets me from such a place of goodness. It most always lifts my heart. Places a smile on my face even on a hard day and I think of how special I must be.

Maybe it's the sun glasses?

That thought quickly fades and I realize that every single person that drives past him probably feels special. Because that's just what he does.

It's his job to stand out, to make people feel good enough as they drive by that they come back and get their car spiffed up.

I could never ever never ever do what this Mr. Sparkle does. I would be sitting cross legged on the sidewalk quietly reading Mary Oliver out loud. I would look up and make eye contact with the passerbys. Maybe "namaste" them.

They would never come to my car wash.

I could play Michael Franti on the sidewalk and dance with wild abandon, another thing I love to do. This would draw more attention. Maybe attracting more peeps to my carwash.

Maybe not cause another key ingredient is seriously lacking....

Desire.

Yep, I have absolutely no desire to do this. BUT Mr. Sparkle, he does. He rocks this game.

I realize once again how we all have skills, abilities, and innate ways of Being that simple set us apart from the other Mr. Sparkles. Then when we have the desire to go along, magic happens.

Part of our job in Life is finding the things that we feel so magnetically drawn to that we can't resist it. And when we do? It's like a master key that so magically unlocks our heart revealing our own sparkle.

It's true, I do believe that one million people can do the same job and do it differently at the same time. In fact, I think when we're encouraged to do it different, to do it "my" way....we shine a little brighter.

We sparkle.
We feel good.
And when we sparkle and feel good, we light the way for others to shine.
We reach hearts.

That's pretty amazing.

the sacred pause

 

I drove to the coffee shop full of angst. I knew the time would come when I have to utter the words “I lost my baby.” I stepped up to the counter and ordered a soy latte. “Oh, you’re drinking caffeine. Is your baby already here?” asked the barista enthusiastically.

Her enthusiasm immediately met my sadness as I stood there and spilled out some words about him being gone.

I quickly escaped to the bathroom where I stood looking at myself. I took a picture to remind myself that I was still breathing, still living.

This time was a moment to literally catch my breath. It was a time and a place for me to breathe and be with all that I was feeling.

It was a sacred pause.

In every yoga class I teach I have students come back to mountain pose numerous times to take a conscious sacred pause. It’s a time to regroup, recenter, come back to stillness, and access feelings in the moment.

In the moment I’m living my life in this container of the sacred pause. At this point in the year I’d normally have 2013 mapped out. I’d have unearthed new dreams for the New Year.  My planner would be filled with all things work related….retreats by the beach, yoga teacher trainings in faraway places, workshops and trainings I wanted to participate in. In true Sharon fashion, it would have exclamation points by trips and random stickers placed on special dates.

I bought a planner for 2013 but it remains mostly empty. I’ve hit the pause button.

My coaching website is nearly finished. All it lacks is a few finishing touches. I’ve hit the pause button.

Healing, connecting with Andy, and planting seeds for joy, hope, peace, and possibility are taking up my time and attention. This was not my original intention after losing baby Nico.

Part of me so desperately wanted to get back to get back to my life as I knew it. I wanted to get far away from my feelings and experience of loss. I wanted to busy myself. I wanted to get back to planning, mapping, corralling, and controlling my life. Not having a professional goal I’m diligently working towards makes me nervous, very uneasy.

Yet some part of me knows the only choice is to let it all go. I must live and dwell in this place of chaos, uncertainty, ongoing questions, and lingering sadness and trust that it’s lifting me to a better understanding of myself and my life.

It’s not easy. I fight it most days. It’s messy and it’s extremely hard work for me.

Tara Brach defines a pause in a way that deeply resonates with me. She says, “a pause is a suspension of activity, a time of temporary disengagement when we are no longer moving toward any goal.”

I’m also thinking of this in terms of the holiday season, a time that can be overscheduled and leave us feeling frantic and exhausted.

I’m wondering where the sacred pauses are for all of us in the season. Those of us that are dealing with loss and sadness as well as those celebrating a bang up of a year.

Before taking a drink of my soy latte I pause and smell, relishing the delicious scent.

Before opening a work email, I take a deep breath.

At night Andy and I light three candles on our mantle. One for Joe (my amazing father-in-law), one for Nico, and the unity candle from mine and Andy's wedding. We pause and say a prayer.

I pause during meditation and take note of my thoughts.

I pause on a walk and connect to the peace I feel, as well as the sadness.

I pause and make a wish on a star at night.

I pause during a conversation with a sweet friend and rest in quiet still space.

To do all of this and be truly in the moment, without any expectation, without strategizing, without working towards any goal is worthy of time.

It’s praise worthy.

And possible it just might save our soul this holiday season.



yogis year end ritual

 

 

I had such a fun time with these awesome women on Saturday. I love that it looks like part party and part yoga. There was lots of merry making mixed in with many contemplative moments.

 

There was bubble blowing, hula hooping, dress up + photographing, restorative yoga (forward bend, hips and backbends), and questions geared towards the past, present, and future.

 

It was five hours that flew by that left me feeling grateful for the work I get to do and the people I get to work with.

 

It's times like this, when I'm wrapped in the cocoon of the treehouse with yogis who so openly share their thoughts, hopes, hardships, joys, and questions with me that I feel so full. So satisfied.

 

They. Are. The. Best.

 

I just received these words from one of the awesomes:

 

The year-end ritual was…a much needed opportunity to reflect and refocus. I know that it is so important to do something like this, yet I also knew that unless I actually committed to attending the workshop, I probably wouldn’t have made the time for myself. I think that the blend of focused time reflecting and writing, along with the time on the mat and the time we spent being lighthearted, and sharing our experiences was perfect, simply perfect. Since the workshop I have felt much more grounded, full of gratitude, and excited to embrace the holidays and the end of 2012 - as well as look forward to welcoming 2013 and all the experiences that I am eager to have. Sharon, you held such a thought-full space for each of us. Thank you for your gentle guidance and brave spirit.

 

 

Grate*full.

That's me.

good for the soul

Mountains
with the family.
Cooking, making, baking
homemade pie crusts
Sun slipping down
Sipping
mimosas in the hot tub.
Sun bathing
on the porch with smut
and pillow blanket fort.

Margarita making
Basketball watching
Pacman playing
Book reading
Pool sharks sharking.

Pecan pie and coffee
rocking chair
and sun in my face
rising over Smoky Mountains.

Thank you Family.
Thank you Sun.
Thank you Smokies.

Shaking and waking my sleepy sorrow soul.

breath, yoga, and faith

I'm really proud of this yogini, Julie Ransdell (check out her open heart above). It's not an easy thing to share your story and risk being vulnerable. Julie does so beautifully here while weaving in breath, yoga, and faith in such a heartfelt way. 

This time last year I was frustrated and beginning the process of going to doctor appointments, taking daily medications, getting blood drawn and tested- all to figure out why I wasn’t getting pregnant. 
 
This year, I have a little baby girl heart beating in my belly.

What a difference time makes- what a difference yoga makes.

Even though Thanksgiving is over and the facebook statuses of thankfuls are drawing to a close and we are moving full speed ahead into the Christmas season, I cannot help but continue to be thankful for the last two years of my life. They have been the most difficult, the most heartbreaking, the most trying, and the most defying. 

My husband and I have spent a lot of time driving to Cincinnati for doctor visits, x-rays, procedures to help us become pregnant. So much money spent, so much time invested, so much medicine in my body.

I experienced my first sense of real panic during this time. Growing up in a house of girls with a stay at home mom made me long for the very same thing my whole life. A house full of babies, cooking, cleaning, playing, laughing... I never in a million years thought it would be so difficult to attain. 

I thought getting pregnant was going to be easy. 
 
The thing is though, after I realized how not easy it could be- I still had faith. And I still had my yoga practice- the very constant part of my life that aided me through those difficult times as well as these happy times today.

When I felt the panic bubbling up inside of me or the sadness welling up in my eyes, I was able to full on experience those moments with deep breaths and a sense of trust. 

It wasn’t always pretty but it was always real because if there is one thing I have learned from yoga it is how to be authentic with myself. I’m not always good at it but I’m always aware of it. 

Those deep breaths? They are reminders to settle in and listen to my heart, my soul, my spirit- my authenticity. That is what the mat is for- to bring us to our reality and our truest breath.

Pregnancy has not been a walk in the park either. Lots of sickness, frustration, sleeplessness, and fear. My yoga practice has suffered severely and at first, it made me feel like a “bad” yogini. 

I quickly realized that these intentional breaths I take before bed and when I wake in the morning, these pauses to drop my shoulders and sit up a little taller are all a part of the yoga practice and all that is asked of me in this universe, by my God, and my community is that I do the best I can and try to be fully present.

With so much hurt and despair that surrounds us, it can be so easy to get caught up. To ask why? To think that things are not fair. While those are real and honest emotions to have, yoga shows us that taking time to sit and be mindful can provide insight beyond the questions. 

It shows us that being in the moment allows us to experience the hard times and good times with a full heart.

Now, at 21 weeks pregnant (naturally!!), I am fully present to the fact that life is fragile and life is magical and when I sit on my mat in Sukasana with my hands in prayer, life accepts all parts of my authentic self.

when things change

Have you ever read something you've written and rolled your own eyes at your self?

That just happened to me. I was working on the December newsletter and was reading some things I'd written years back. This is where the eye rolling happened:

"We focus the mind in the moment and choose gratitude and contentment."

Blah. Blah. Blah.
My oh my, how things change.

I'm not at all saying that this isn't an option. It most certainly is. These words will ring true and inspire some. At the same time, they will annoy the piss out of others. It depends on where the student is in his/her own life.

For a long time I thought it was my job as a yoga teacher to show up and shine in a sparkly way. I was to be perky and perfect, in my soft sweet Sharon way. I thought teaching and being yoga meant I'd only radiate joy. Anything less was unyogic of me. Therefore the words and cues I used in class spoke to feeling good. Radiating joy and any other positive spin I could put on it.

I might as well carried around a jar of cherries and popped them in the mouths of students as they grunted their way through chair pose.

Pop. Pop.
Breathe. Now smile.

I had been working on this before the shit storm erupted that is my life right now. (I really should come up with some way that better describes multiple traumatic losses, but for now a "shit storm" it will be.) Anyway, if I had taken my classes in the past I'd probably want to eat my very own sweet yoga face off.

Because the honest truth is that yoga asana is not easy for the most part. We are doing some really crazy, often times uncomfortable stuff. We're bumping up against our weaknesses, fears, tension, and rigidity in addition to our ease, joy, strengths and sweet spots.

Life is not only the light.
Life is not only the dark.
It's both, in fairly equal portions.
We only have to look to nature and see this beautifully mirrored back to us.

What I'm learning is that my job as a yoga teacher is to simply meet my students where they are.

Leeann Carey speaks and teaches to this brilliantly as far as the body and pose is concerned.  When we as teachers are not meeting our students "where they are" physically, we are more likely to prohibit progression and get in the way of growth. We are not to force a student to any position they are not ready for. We are risking injury.

And we're doing so in more ways than one.

It's not my job to make them feel any certain way (not even good). It's not my job to take them out any any experience they are having, whether it's joy or sorrow. It's not my job to force a feeling, even in a subtle round about way.

It's not my job to pop a cherry in your mouth to sweeten the experience of chair pose when really you want to physically, mentally, and/or emotionally grunt and growl your way through it.

I consider it my job to teach students to be aware of how they're feeling in the moment. Once the awareness is there, students can get curious about ways to shift the feeling OR simply sit, stand, breathe and be in and with it.

It's their choice. Not mine.

 

where exactly is hOMe?

 

Greetings Friends, enjoy this pretty perfect post from Kate Dorvel as she reflects on what hOMe is and what it means to her.

 

On Wednesday morning as I sat on the airplane, with my seat belt fastened and my feet, quite literally, like ice-blocks, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly grateful.

 

Craig and I and my dear friend Millie (this girl had no clue what was in store for her!) were on our way back to Boston for the Thanksgiving. After an hour and twenty minutes of driving from Paris to Cincinnati, finding a parking spot, checking in and getting through airport security, we had taken off and were sailing eastward.

 

I hadn’t seen my mamma in 2 months, my dad, brother, Jax and everyone else in over three months. This doesn’t seem like a long time, but it truly feels like an eternity. I simply couldn’t wait to be with them again. I told my group of students last Tuesday evening “I’m heading home for the holiday!” and then I had to remind myself that our home is in Kentucky now!

 

But is my home only in Kentucky? Well, sure my home home-base is in Kentucky. That is where Craig and I have built our home, with our dogs Daisy Doodles and Kiboko. Call it our administrative offices, our abbey, our retreat, our safe zone, “the ranch” as Craig calls it or even “the mothership,” (we are kind of out there!) it doesn’t matter. This is the hub from where the rest of my life stems from.

 

But I also have a home in Boston. In fact, I have 27 years of home there, and some of the most important people in my life, my mama and daddy, Grayson, Jax, my grandfather and grandmother, Murphy and Matilda and a core set of friends-that-are-family that guided me through multiple stages of personal evolution. At the beach house, I have the same thing, a group of essential, eclectic individuals that have and will continue to influence me.

 

Home means many different things to each individual. It can be a place, but usually it is a place where people are, right? I am reminded of the Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zero’s lyric: “home is whenever I’m with you.” Even if it is a place that can sometimes be stressful with several strong personalities and long standing issues, it is still home. 

 

My parents recently moved out of our childhood home, and into a condo in the city of Boston. During one of mama’s temporary transition-related breakdowns where she was spiraling downward she said to me “this is an apartment! It’s not a home. I’m so sad you and Craig don’t have a home to come to at Thanksgiving.”  I let her wail (maybe I’m exaggerating??) a bit longer, because I’ve learned not to tell her “snap out of it” (not a good result, ever.). Once she was done, but still sniffling a bit, I told her that we were coming home to our family, not to a house! That helped a bit, but it did take some time to sink in.

 

So there it started for me, a simple but quite profound revelation. I will always have a home where Craig, Daisy and Kibo are. I will always have a home where my mother and father are. I will always have a home wherever Grayson and Jax are. I will always have a home where my grandmother and grandfather are. And if they are not physically with me they will always, always always be at home in my heart and in my spirit, and I in theirs. For that level of love, awareness and interconnectedness I am forever grateful.

Home starts with you, within your heart and your spirit. Once you begin to live that truth, those who make up your home will feel it too. As the old adage goes “home is where the heart is!”

 

keep breathing

Greetings Friends, I'm happy to share this delish guest post brought to you by our fave Canadian, Misty Pittman. Enjoy....

 

 

Right now, notice your breath.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Can you feel it? That shift that happens, simply by bringing your awareness to the breath.

 

I never fully understood what the big deal was. Why yoga teachers are always gushing over the benefits of our breath and reminding us to breathe. But recently I’ve been craving breathing time. Focusing on how it feels, where it travels to, the softening that it invites into my being.

 

It’s quite delish.

 

So what does this mean for your yoga practice and why should you make it the most important aspect of your practice? Because it elevates your time on the mat to something that is meaningful and mindful and extraordinary. By turning your attention to your inhales and exhales, the mind quiets and an opportunity for stillness opens up. It’s in that stillness where magic happens. It's in that stillness where we find beauty.

So we start our practice with this moment of stillness, centering our minds and spirits, letting go of the monkey mind. As we start to move, our breath serves us in another way. We flow with its rhythm, letting it guide us rather than letting our movements guide it. Perhaps we invite a little Ujjayi, to build heat and keep us connected. We pause in warrior, legs shaking, arms trembling, and our breath helps us find our edge. In a seated forward fold, the hamstrings are hanging on for dear life. Guide the inhale there and feel the muscles soften and release on the exhale.

 

These days I’ve been connecting a lot more to my breath off the mat. I start the day with it and my stiff body feels connected to something bigger. I watch the rain and feel the rise and fall of my belly. I step into a breeze on a sunny day and we flow as one. It tempers my temper and it swells with my joy.

 

I get it.

 

Try it. Get comfortable for a moment and let your hands settle somewhere on your body. Gently close your eyes. Notice how the breath feels as it passes through the nostrils. Notice if it is shaky or even. Is there evenness or unevenness? Don’t change a thing, just notice. Feel the delicate flow of your body with each inhale and exhale. Notice how, just by the simple act of paying attention, your breath slowly starts to deepen and even out. 

 

Can you feel the magic?

the seed for gratitude

 

Please enjoy yet another entertaining and enlightening blog post by Miss Meredith Swim. May these few words plant a seed for gratitude this holiday season and onwards. And good sleep is something to be oh so grateful for, right? xo, sharon

 

As I slip off into dream world each night, I don’t count sheep. I count all the people I am grateful for in my life. From the baristas at 3^rd St. Stuff to my ukulele playing biology professor, my nightly gratitude list ends my day in a full-hearted way. Then, Sleep arrives peacefully.

I’m extremely grateful that Sleep and I are on good terms because Sleep and I have been on rocky terrain during these college years.  Frankly,I just don’t care for sleeping.

 

I’d rather be awake dancing, downdogging, scheming, and girlfriend gabbing. I’m shamelessly a morning person. As I turn off the bedside lamp, I’m already looking forward to my sweet morning latte and the adventures waiting with the next sunrise.

 

In the past, I’ve sipped tea, practiced pigeon pose, and jotted down notes in a journal specifically purchased for the title, “I CAN’T SLEEP” to unwind my monkey mind, but regardless, my final waking minutes were typically restless and sleep only arrived when I was on the brink of tears and exhaustion.

Thankfully, wise words from my Mamma and Sharon saved me from my frustrated sleeping rut. A fan of Dr. Wayne Dyer, my mother shared Wayne’s belief that the most important part of the day is the few minutes before sleep. At first this news upset me because my five waking minutes didn’t accurately reflect the positive sides of my day and the pristine emotional state I wanted to be in as I fell into sleep.

 

Those five minutes consisted of ping ponging thoughts about whether pink pants are still appropriate to wear in November (yes?) to the recalled memory of the not very nice words I said to a friend in the fifth grade (Sasha, I’m sorry I said you looked my dog. At the time, my ten-year-old self meant it as a compliment).

Now realizing the possible significance of those last waking moments, my heart delighted to find this suggestion tucked into Sharon’s November newsletter on gratitude: “Upon waking up or going to bed spend two minutes reviewing what you are grateful for.” The seed for the gratitude list was planted and grows.

 

Now, instead of frustration and time traveling thoughts defining my bedtime, I shift through the snippets of my day to thank those who blessed it with their joy and presence. I’m thankful for Sharon blogs and emails, my Sun Saluting yoga students, toothpaste, and the thoughtful text from a faraway friend.

 

The faces of those I hold most dear surround me as I tiptoe onto the edge of dreams and I gratefully embrace Sleep like an old friend.



enlightenment

learning how to bend without breaking

Greetings Dear Soul,

Tonight I'm thinking about creativity, unexpected relief, the difference between grief and mourning, and what it's like having your heart broken over and over each day.

Yea, it's realllly fun living in my head these days.

Luckily for you I'm sharing my world of creativity over the weekend. And the art of bending without breaking. Something I make no claims on being an authority on.

Weeks ago I signed up to participate in two days of virtual programs with Jennifer Lee, author of The Right Brain Business Plan (in which I'm a facilitator).

I went back and forth over whether or not I'd have the energy to participate. I sent Jenn an email before we began and explained the head (and heart) space I was in.

I made an agreement with myself that I'd participate with no expectations. I'd hold each day and the process very lightly. I'd take as many breaks as I needed. I'd quit, call it a day early if needed.

This my Friend is not how I would have approached this in the past. I would have stuck to the schedule because that's what "good" students do. I would have forced my focus (and been upset with myself if it was less than I expected). I would NOT have quit early. Not. An. Option.

Damn straight, I'd have been miserable first.
Silly, I know.

Due to recent circumstances, I had no other choice. I had to give myself freedom. Wiggle room.

The truth is, I don't have the energy to force anything these days.

Something shifted for me this weekend and I felt more energy and excitement around work than I have in a long time. This was totally unplanned and unexpected.

I'm not sure what it was....
The awesome people I met and interacted with all over the world.
Jenn's fantastic facilitating.
My excitement about work.
The space I allowed myself.
The permission to bail out early.

The truth is since the (still)birth of baby Nico I've had to make a conscious effort NOT to use planning for the future as an escape mechanism, a way to gloss of my loss. This is my "blindspot", my go to pattern, my particular way of escaping pain and any other unwelcome emotion.

"Nothing to see over here. I'm not sad. I've got things to plan and places to go."

What I noticed this weekend was that I wasn't using my creativity, my planning to stuff my feelings and emotions. I was not over riding, skipping over sadness. My work upstairs in my sweet sacred (and messy!) space felt authentic and in the moment.

 

 

 

I'm oh so grateful for that time and now I'm wondering....
How might my energy, aliveness, and the process in general shift by holding the process lightly.
What if I give myself permission to try then bail out as needed?

Most of all, how can I continue to bend without breaking?

being in the moment

"Ten thousand flowers in spring,
the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer,
snow in winter.
If your mind isn't clouded by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life." Wu Men

This week for my classes I focused on mindfulness, on the present moment. We used the senses as tools in asana (postures) to be in the Now.

But you can do it anywhere and anytime. Shall we play right now?

Look around and observe what you see. I'm sitting at Starbucks. I see the table scattered with my belongings....mug, cell phone, keys, notebook, pen, book. I see a blue sky. And traffic moving up and down Nicholasville Rd.

What do you hear? I hear jazz music, the sound of a cash register, people chatting, mugs clunking, the sound of computer keys as I type these words.

What do you smell? I smell coffee. Delicious coffee.

Any tastes lingering in your mouth? More delicious coffee.

What do you feel? I feel my seat and legs touching a wood chair. One foots rests on the floor. I notice my shoulders feel tight. My breathing feels restricted around my chest.

Our tendency will be to create stories about our observations.

Why do my shoulders feel tight?
How can I make it go away?
I should spend more time in yoga on my shoulders.
I wonder where those people are going.
I need to go to the grocery story.
But I don't feel like it.
Gosh, I hate it when I don't feel motivated.
Maybe I should do more yoga.
My teacher says yoga makes everything better.
Oh wait, I'm supposed to be in the moment.
I'm terrible at this.

So please, I invite you to pick a sense, any sense and come to it throughout your day.

There is value in asking important questions and reflecting.
There is a time to plan and make a to-do list.
There is a time to learn from the past and plants seeds for the future.
There is a time to receive the beauty, the boredom,the sweetness, the sorrow we are feeling in the moment.
There is a time just to Be.

Maybe that moment is now.