What's a dad?

I don't really like "hallmark" holidays.  The older I get the less I care about holidays in general.  If you need Hallmark to remind you to be kind to your loved ones you probably are going to need more than an overpriced card.   Anyway, today is Father's Day.  I grew up without a father so I never really gave Father's day much thought so imagine my surprise when I realized that I've been thinking about it quite a bit the last few days. 

When my kids were growing up, their father would spend Father's day playing softball with a bunch of random guys.  Most of the dads I knew either worked all the time or were just not involved in the day to day lives of their kids.  Some were there for the big moments like graduations, weddings, or whatever but not for the day to day things like dinner, baths, homework. 

I'm not gonna lie, it took a minute for my brain to adjust when my grandbabies were born.  Their dads were involved in their care from day 1.  Not because they were required to but because they actually wanted to be involved.  It took me some time to get used to having to share baby snuggles with their dads.  I've said it before and I'll say it again.  I could not have asked for better dads for my grandchildren.   

Watching these guys become dads has been such a blessing.  In the grand scheme of life it's the little things that really matter most.  It's the way they show up for their kids everyday that makes them a dad.  Knowing how they like their eggs, taking them out when you need to run to the store even though it takes longer.  Participating in the bedtime routine.  Changing diapers without having to be asked.  Knowing the kids well enough to know which cry is tired and which is hungry.    

All these qualities are normal and not even noteworthy for most people but for me, they are remarkable.   I never witnessed these qualities in a dad before.  Anyone can be a FATHER but not everyone is a DAD.   A dad is someone who shows up for you not only in the big moments but in the small moments because it's the millions of small moments that make up your life.  

Dads are doing the work of raising children that feel loved, seen and cared for everyday not just on "Father's Day".   Dads focus on what they can do for their kids instead of what their kids owe them.   Dads sometimes step up and care for kids that aren't even their own (including adult kids).  Dad care about their children's emotional as well as physical well-being.

The older I get the less I care about hallmark holidays.  What I do care about are the people who are doing the hard work of caring for others both big and small.  I don't care about who's around the Christmas dinner table.  What I care about is being present for the millions of small moments that make up my life.  I'm grateful to men who have shown me what a dad really is.  

A nonna's prayer for peace

"All that evil needs to succeed is for good people to stand by and do nothing."  

I feel terrified that evil is succeeding, but I don't know what I can do to stop it.  I want a better world for my grandchildren.   They deserve a better world.  When they grow up and learn about this moment in history, what will they think? What will I tell them when they ask why didn't anyone do anything? 

When I was young and learned about the Holocaust, that's the question I asked.  Why didn't anyone do anything?  How could such atrocities happen?  How could people be so cruel? I didn't understand how one evil man convinced so many people to follow and obey.  I couldn't comprehend how a person can commit such evil acts against another human being. 

The increasing level of cruelty that we have been experiencing in this country and around the world feels very much like a repeat of history.  Once again, I'm struggling to comprehend how a person can commit such atrocities against another human being.  Are some people simply born evil or is it a learned behavior?  There's no doubt that there is something fundamentally wrong with a person who can murder someone in cold blood.  What I find even more heinous and dangerous are the people who can stand by and watch and feel nothing. 

I cannot even put into words how utterly disgusted I am with the current state of our country.  I cannot fathom how anyone with a shred of decency can condone the cruel and evil actions of this administration.  I chalked up Trump's first term to people not knowing how bad he would be.  The fact that he was re-elected makes no sense to me at all.  Clearly, people have lost their ever-loving minds, or more likely, their humanity.  Even more likely, it was rigged.  That's the only logical explanation.  

How do we engage in the world and not let it consume us?   I don't want to stand by and do nothing, but I also don't want to add to the fuel that is keeping this dumpster fire burning.  It's heartbreaking to see people turning against each other all in the name of politics.  While we are distracted fighting with each other, evil is succeeding.  

In the words of Dr. Martin Luther King:  "Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."  How do we remind each other of that AND hold each other accountable for our actions?   Hate is such a heavy burden to carry but how do we love someone who has opposing views that are so clearly cruel? 

I was hoping that by the time I got to this point in my rant that I would have some clear path forward but I don't. Tonight, what I feel is angry, sad, and honestly disappointed. I see people on Facebook and Instagram posting make up tutorials and I want to scream at them "The world is on fire who the hell cares about your stupid makeup!"  I don't, obviously... I acknowledge the fact that not everyone is in a place in their life where they can take an active role in politics.  

I know that when I was in the trenches, working full-time, raising children, struggling financially and trying to hold together a dysfunctional marriage the last thing I was thinking about was politics.  It took every ounce of energy I had just to get through the day.  Today, I have space in my life to be more aware and engaged in the world around me.  

So, you young parents stay focused on the important work of raising kind, compassionate, loving children. That's the love that will drive out the hate.  We will need them to heal this broken world when they grow up.  In the meantime, those of us who can will take up the fight until you are done raising babies and can stand up and fight alongside us.  

I won't pretend that I have any answers. I don't know how to solve the huge problems that plague our world.  I have no desire to spew some yoga babble about how everything is perfect, and we need to trust in the universe that everything is as it should be.  Sorry... That's BS.   

Yes, we can trust in the universe, AND we can take action for the greater good.  Durga didn't sit on her lion and chant mantras while the demon terrorized the three worlds.  She drew her sword and leaped into action.  

Now, someone please tell me what to do.  I'm calling my representatives, sending postcards, boycotting many corporations that support this administration, giving to charity, and helping whenever the opportunity presents itself.  What else can I be doing?  What are you, good people, doing to ensure that evil doesn't succeed? 

My teacher, Ed

When I heard the news of Ed's passing I think I was in shock.  I knew he wasn't well but I still wasn't prepared for this news.   The guilt I feel for not participating in his care at the end weighs heavy on my heart.   I should have made time to go visit him.  Thankfully, I told him many times over the years how much I loved him and how important he was to me.  I'll have to hold on to that while I carry this guilt. 

I first met Ed at Yoga on Main in 2007.  I was convinced he was my guru even though he wanted no parts of that!  I looked up to him as my teacher and spiritual guide for many years.  He wasn't an easy teacher. Truth be told, he mostly ignored me at first.  He rarely answered my questions.  It took years for him to take me serious as a student.  Even then he was harsh with me.  His harshness only made me work harder for his approval.  I'll never forget the feeling of getting a star on my Ayurveda homework with a little note "Great work".   I felt like I won the lottery!  I still have that homework assignment.  

When I asked him if he would be willing to lead a study group on the Upanishads instead of an answer he gave me a challenge.  "You find 5 people interested and I'll do it." I accepted the challenge and started recruiting. At first I was literally bribing my friends with dinner at my house if they would go to Ed's for the study group.  Every month I was practically dragging people off the street so that I'd have 5 people to attend the study group.   Eventually, a small group of serious students would consistently show up, month after month and the group grew. 

The hours we spent at Ed's little cabin in the woods were magical.  The wood stove and the giant pot of homemade chai kept us warm while we watched the birds and listened to Ed's stories.  Sometimes we would roll our eyes when he would recount the same story for the 100th time with new embellishments every time he told the story.  Still, we knew how lucky we were to be there.  It felt like church for us.  It was a sacred space filled with years of spiritual practices that the energy was palpable.  After a while, someone else took over organizing the study group.  Most of the students from the original group moved on.  I continued to attend for a long time but then... I too, stopped attending.  At first, the schedule didn't work for me and then I felt disconnected from the group.  

I have so many Ed stories rolling around in my head right now.  I remember one night after yoga teacher training Ed and I were walking to our cars.  He was telling me that he was doing some chores at his house and he got hurt. It made him worry that if anything happened to him no one would even know because he was alone in middle of the woods.  When I asked him what I could do to help him he said "find me a nice lady."  Instead, we compromised.  I committed to checking in with him every day to make sure he was ok.  He happily agree.  Each day I would either call, or email him.   This went on for several years.  Some days he would exchange some pleasantries and other days just a simple "OK" to my question "how are you doing today?".   There came a point when he had a new group of students that he was interacting with on a regular basis and we agreed that I no longer needed to check on him daily. I'm so grateful to this group of students who have been caring for him until the end.   

Once, when Ed learned that I was teaching a workshop on Sadhana he pushed a book into my hands and said "If you're going to be teaching Sadhana you should at least know something about it".  This was one of the times when his harshness really hurt.  However, another student pointed out that he must trust me if he was willing to loan me one of his books.  I was so nervous that something would happen to the  book during the month I had it that I carried it around in a ziplock bag.  I would only read it at the dining room table with a clean tablecloth.  It was at the dining room table that the front cover of the book fell off!!  I was horrified! After hyper-ventilating for an hour I frantically searched the internet to find a replacement.  The following month when I returned Ed's book, still in the ziplock bag, I explained what happened.  I offered him both the original and the replacement copy, practically in tears.  He grabbed the original and brushed it off saying "That happens with books from India all the time".   It was only after I had read the book that he  would engage in a serious conversation with me about Sadhana.  

I could fill a book with stories about Ed.  Maybe I'll write a series of posts to share some of my favorite stories.  I'll call it "Ed says".   I'll end this post with the story of the last time I was with Ed before he started to decline.  He invited me to teach his Ayurveda students a class on Ayurveda and Yoga.  I was scheduled to teach for 2 hours. I was so nervous teaching in front of him but once I began I found my rhythm and the time flew by.  During the break he came over to me and told me that I did a fantastic job and he was impressed with the material I had prepared. So much so that he let me teach the rest of the class that day.  The star on my homework felt like winning the lottery.  Receiving positive feedback on my teaching Ayurvedic yoga felt like.... I don't know.  I can't find the words to describe how that felt.  Honestly, it felt like he finally saw me as a serious student.  

When I was leaving after that class he told me I was a good teacher. As I hugged him good-bye I told him that it was because I had good teachers like him that I am able to be a good teacher.   My heart is broken that we didn't have more time together but I know that I was blessed to have spent so many hours seated at the foot of my guru.  I will honor his memory by continuing to share the teachings I learned from him.  

Oh... one more story,   I was trying to figure out why I felt such a strong connection to a teacher that I didn't know very well.  Ed said to me "You may not have known her very well in this lifetime but there's no doubt that we have all done this dance together in another lifetime."   The thought of sharing another lifetime with Ed as my teacher gives me some comfort tonight.  I wonder if he'll be telling the same stories in the next life?? 

One day I'll tell you about the time I brought Ed the soup he requested when he was sick.   That was another time when his harshness hurt.  He could be such a cranky old man at times but I loved him and my life is infinitely better for having had him as my teacher. 

 Until we meet again.... 

What would you say to your 19-year-old self?

 

When I was 19 years old I didn't know a damn thing about life.  I certainly didn't know a damn thing about myself (I just didn't know that at the time).   Today, at an age much older than 19 I sat down with this stack of journals and read the thoughts of my 19-year-old self.  

This particular stack of journals I started when my first child was born.  I had intended to write to my children in them and present them to my kids when they had their own children.  That's your first clue of how little I actually knew about life; to think that I would have the time and energy for such things.  I did manage to keep writing for about five years.  This is impressive when you consider I was working full time and was essentially the sole caregiver for my babies.  But I digress....

It was fun to read how excited I was at each milestone, first smile from baby, first tooth, first step.  It was hard to read how scared and sad I was so much of the time.  I wasted so much energy worrying.  Truth be told I still struggle with worry sometimes.  Some entries were so boring...." today we went for a walk and picked dandelions.  Others were about important events both in the world and in our family.  Page after page there's an undertone of both hopefulness and sadness.   I thought about burning these books so many times.  I had abandoned the idea of giving them to my kids long ago.   After all, these are my stories and my insecurities that will do them no good.

In one of the early entries, I wrote that I hoped my kids would one day read the journals and get to know me.  In those days, I wasn't comfortable opening up about how I felt or what I thought.  Honestly, even in the journals I was making excuses for other people's bad behavior and never fully expressing how I really felt.  I suppose I felt like I had to censor some things since my intention was to one day give the journals to the kids.  There was a twinge of sadness at the thought that my kids would need to read my journals in order to get to know the real me.  I've since learned that kids are much more perceptive than we give them credit for.  

The decision to read them before I burned them was a good one.  It's spring, which always has an air of hopefulness.  The windows are open and the gentle breeze carries in the sweet smell of the Lilac while I read.  A few things stood out to me.  A big one is that although I have changed tremendously since I wrote those words some parts of me have stayed the same.  My heart's desire has always been to create a life where my children grow up knowing that they are loved.  I wrote often about hoping to create a peaceful, simple life.  I do believe I've succeeded in both.  

Life has taken so many unexpected turns.  Some joyful and some sorrowful but each designed to bring me to this moment. I admit that the road to get here was not the road I intended to travel but nevertheless, I have arrived at the life that my 19-year-old self hoped for.   Sitting here, listening to the birds chirping while my children share their own experiences and insecurities with me as they navigate their way through the early years of motherhood, I feel a great sense of contentment.   

I've learned so much about myself over the years and if I could go back and talk to that 19-year-old girl I would tell her that the road ahead is bumpy and sometimes scary but that she is stronger and braver than she knows.  I would tell her that as long as she follows her heart every step of the way life will be more beautiful than she ever hoped for. 

What would you tell your 19-year-old self?

It dawned on me this morning.

I went out early this morning at 6am to get some fresh fruit and yogurt. The air was cool and clear for a Sunday in July.  When I got home I sat down at the dining room table to drink my coffee.  That's when it dawned on me.  I was sitting looking at my beautiful plants and at the box of craft supplies.  I had come full circle.  I've been spending time gardening, crafting, and entertaining.   I've been feeling at peace with the pace of life.   

I wondered what came first.  Was it the peace and contentment that brought me back to doing the things that I loved or was doing the things I loved bringing me the feeling of peace and contentment?  Why do we stop doing things that bring us joy?  

Either way, gratitude is the overwhelming feeling today. I'm grateful that I had the courage to make the hard decisions which lead me to this point in my life.  Contrast always catches my eye when I look at artwork or nature.  Today, contrast is catching my attention as I appreciate the sweetness of this present moment when I remember the stress and tension that used to be my life.  Sure, I still have stress, tension, and challenges.  The difference now is that those are only moments and not pervading my whole life. 

Tell me, what brings you joy?  Have you experienced moments of peace and contentment? What were you doing when you experienced those moments?  What is it that you are grateful for today?  

Message from the garden

 

"Now I know why not everyone has a garden, it's hard work" This was Jake's observation this morning while helping me in the garden.  It is hard work but honestly, what isn't these days?  

I'm an amateur gardener.  I dig a hole, plant something, and hope for the best.  That's probably not the best technique but I tend to learn better by actually doing whatever I'm trying to learn.  Each year I learn more and more.  Some years are plentiful and others not so much.  Some problems are in my control, like learning to prune the tomato plant and fig tree.  Other things are out of my control, the critters and the weather for example.  

The first couple rows of beans I had planted early in the season weren't looking so good.  I debated about pulling them out and starting over.  This morning I had to add more string to support them!  They not only bounced back, but they are thriving.

The same thing happened with the Basil plant that was in my kitchen window.  Most of it was dead and while I was taking it to the trash can I noticed one teeny tiny shoot on one of the stems.  Instead of throwing it out I cut away all the dead parts and planted the stem with the tiny shoot in fresh soil and took it outside.  Today I needed to re-pot it in a bigger container.  

I moved on to pulling weeds from the fire pit area.  Last year we put down cardboard, then a layer of weed blocker, and topped the entire area with rocks.  Yet, I still need to pull weeds from the area which got me thinking about resiliency.  

Resilience (from the Cambridge dictionary) means the ability to be happy, successful, etc. again after something difficult or bad has happened.  It also says the ability of a substance to return to its usual shape after being bent, stretched, or pressed.  

While some weeds came out fairly easily, others had much deeper, stronger roots.  Those weeds I left alone.  I figured, after all they went through (cardboard, weed blocker, rocks) their resiliency earned them the right to be there.  These persistent weeds, with their deep, strong roots, were reflecting back to me my own resilience and the resiliency of all women in this country.  Why are there still those who fail to see that we have earned our rights? 

I've experienced difficult and even bad things, I've been bent, stretched, and pressed in so many areas of my life.  Today, I'm sweaty, achy, and exhausted but my roots are deep, I have a support system and I've earned the right to be here.  At times I feel like a teeny tiny shoot holding on and reaching for the sunshine.  At times, I'm tired and ragged.  Still, like the persistent plants in my garden with their strong roots, I continue to grow.  Sometimes, it's not the plant but the environment that needs changing in order for it to blossom.   

Some gardens grow in nice, neat rows, others grow wild and untamed.  Both are beautiful and both can be bountiful.  One isn't better than the other.  The choice of neat and tidy or wild and untamed is up to the gardener.  How we each chose to live our lives is up to us.  

Like most women in this country I have been contemplating the ramifications of the Supreme court's decision to overturn Roe v Wade.  Although I personally am against abortion for me I respect the rights of each woman to make the decision that she feels is best for her and her situation.  Life, after all, it not always neat and tidy.  Sometimes things outside of our control happen and life becomes messy.  Who can presume to know what's best for someone else? 

What came to me as I was pulling weeds is that it may take some time to gather our energy and start the arduous journey of pushing up, once again, through all the barriers put in place to keep us down.  The work women have been doing for decades has strengthened our roots so that we can continue to grow.  We have earned the right to bodily autonomy through our strength, resiliency and persistence.  We can't give up now.  

If you prefer a nice, tidy garden where everything is under your control then by all means grow that type of garden at your home.  If you prefer your garden wild and untamed then by all means grow that type of garden at your home. There is enough room in the world for both.  

 Imagine if you tried to go into your neighbor's garden and decided that your way of gardening is the only way and started implementing your ideas in their garden.  You might think that's ok because you truly believe your way is the right way.   Would you be okay with your neighbor coming into YOUR garden and implementing their ways in your garden?  After all, they too feel their way is truly the right way.  

Remember, at the end of the day, the only garden you have the right to tend to is your own.  If you want to grow Swiss Chard in your garden... Go for it.  But please don't tell me what to grow in my garden.  Honestly, if we all focused on tending to our own gardens we'd be to tired to care what the neighbors are doing in theirs.  

 

  

Nothing lasts forever, not even YOM

A musician friend once told me that when you're making music the pauses between the notes are just as important as the notes themselves.  The importance of pauses has become a recurring theme for me.  Typically, my motto is to simply plow through to the next task.  It took years for me to realize the value of simply pausing and waiting until the next step becomes clear. 

Right now, at this moment, the next task isn't straightforward.   I thought that by the time I got to this day I would have a clear path forward.  That hasn't happened.  All I know for sure is that this weekend I will be teaching my final classes at Yoga on Main.  

Truth be told, I thought Yoga on Main was a magical place that would go on forever.  I never thought the day would come when Yoga on Main no longer existed.  My heart is heavy today.  I know that yoga teaches us non-attachment.  I know we learned that everything is temporary.  I know that it's the teachings that are magical and not the structure that we call "Yoga on Main" still, I'm only human and my heart feels heavy.  

There are no words to adequately express the love and gratitude that I feel for all the teachers that I've studied with over the years, to name a few:  Ed Zadlo, Shiva Das, Betheyla, Paula Tepedino, Shakti Durgaya, Christopher Burns and so many more.  I'm grateful to Jessica Golden for entrusting me to be her sidekick as we did our best to navigate the challenges that came with the running of a yoga studio through a global pandemic, civil unrest and so much more.  We could write a book about our adventures.  It would surely be a bestseller, filled with drama and comedy! 

I can truly say that each person I met at Yoga on Main has had a lasting impact on my life, both teachers and students.  

There were challenges too, HOLY HELL were there challenges over the years!  I came face to face with some pretty big egos, including my own.  Those challenges taught me valuable lessons but the blessings and friendships far outweighed the difficulties.   

I can honestly say that I am not the same person I was when I first walked in the doors of Yoga on Main. I could never have imagined the wild ride that I would be on for the last 15 years.  I have shared my darkest days and my best days with the YOM community and it's the community that I will miss most of all.  I will miss the chai and chats that were the norm after yoga class.  

When it became clear that the time had arrived to say goodbye my first thought was that I will plow through and continue to teach yoga on zoom.  When we faced a global pandemic I was grateful for zoom.  It turned out to be a great way for us to stay connected and to continue to practice together.  I was grateful when I thought it would only be for a few months.   It was convenient to not have to drive 45 minutes and have to circle the block 28 times to find parking.  It wasn't so convenient in so many other ways.  Virtual hugs cannot compare to Shiva Das' famous hugs. 

Anyway, the time has come.  I do not have a clear path in front of me. What I do know for sure is that a pause is required.  For the last 7 or 8 years, I have worked 2 or 3 jobs at a time.   Working 7 days a week.  It was necessary but exhausting.  There have been many huge changes in my life as well these last few years.  Changes that I haven't fully processed yet. 

I feel a great sense of loyalty and responsibility toward the Yoga on Main community which is why the decision to take a pause from teaching weekly yoga classes was so difficult.  In order for me to continue offering yoga authentically, from my heart, I need to take time to reflect and contemplate how I want to be of service in the future. 

My intention is to take the summer off from teaching.  I want to focus more on my personal sadhana, work in my garden, finish editing my memoir, and welcome my newest granddaughter into the world at the end of the summer.  

My hope is that by the fall the path forward will become more clear to me.  Until then "may the long time sun shine upon you, all love surround you, and the pure light within you, guide your way on".  

Om Namaha Shiva!  

A householder's guide to Enlightenment

As soon as I opened that dusty old Rubbermaid tub, I knew I had fallen down the rabbit hole. I spent the next 3 days looking at old family photos.  The saying goes, "The days are long but the years are short". It feels like another lifetime and yesterday simultaneously. 

Those long days were so hard.  On a daily basis I would think to myself "damn women's lib!!"  All it did was make my life harder.  I was expected to work full-time AND raise children, AND keep house, AND volunteer at the kids’ school, AND be a good wife, friend, daughter.  On a daily basis I felt like I was juggling balls of fire and more often than not, dropping a few.  Most nights I'd go bed with that nagging feeling in my gut that I was failing.  The photos tell a different story.  

Life in those days was a three-ring circus but we did have fun.  It's always fun at the circus.  My kids grew up with chickens, and dogs, and parrots, and cats.  They always had lots of family around and friends.  We had great adventures and created all sorts of fun crafts.  The house was filled with Disney movies, and singing and lots of playing pretend with baby dolls, super heroes and Legos. There were books, crayons and markers everywhere and an almost constant sound of basketballs.  Riding bikes and climbing trees, trick-or-treating and sleep overs. 

There were also tears, and yelling; lots of yelling. Let's not forget the fighting.  "She's looking at me!!!" was a very common exclamation at our circus.  I missed the memo about the bake sale at school so I was the mom with the donut holes from the 7-Elven but I wasn't the only mom.   I forgot to wash the sleeping bag for daycare.... but I wasn't the only mom.  We were late to school; I was late to work.  There was an incident with a winter coat that landed ME in the principal’s office and eventually to the counselor's office.  (You can read about that on my post titled "My lowest motherhood moment").  

As my kids got older, the circus changed but there was still juggling.  There was still fun and fighting, laughter and tears.  Did I ever tell you about the time that my 12yr old fired the babysitter?  Yes, you read that correctly.  I'm not sure what I was more shocked about; the fact that my 12yr old fired the babysitter or the fact that the babysitter listened to her and went home.   We are quite a cast of characters. 

In those days, I would "go to Yoga" on Wednesday nights.  Most weeks I felt like I was holding my breath until Wednesday when I could breathe.  I would rush home from work, pick up the kids from after care and bring them home.  I'd give them a quick dinner and rush to yoga.  It was 1 hour, once a week that was just for me.  I didn't feel guilty about it at all.  Until, that is, parent-teacher conference with Tayler's kindergarten teacher.   That's when Mrs. Baker informed me that she felt I wasn't giving Tayler enough attention.  She came to that conclusion because Tayler told her that I don't study her alphabet with her.   You see, I was so good at studying that Tayler didn't realize our nightly game of alphabet bingo was actually studying.  When you have children, you live in constant fear about what is going to come out of their mouths.  If you ever need a good laugh, volunteer to be the class room mom in kindergarten. 

There's no doubt in my mind that Yoga made me a better mother.  Not only did yoga/meditation give me the tools I needed to stay calm and present but I believe that the benefits of my practice had a ripple effect on the children.  I remember one day; my son was having a meltdown.  It had been a rough day for all of us.  I could total relate to how he was feeling because I too was on the verge of a meltdown.  Instead, I sat on the floor next to him.  He screamed.... I practiced the Ujjayi breath.  The louder he screamed, the louder I'd make the breath sound.  In between his screams he would look at me; curious. Slowly, he began to match the rhythm of my breath.  Eventually, he crawled into my lap.  We both felt better after that.   

I remember daydreaming about the day I would have more time to practice.  I used to daydream about going to yoga retreats and immersing myself in the "Yoga lifestyle".   I so badly wanted to go to India.  I was convinced that I would never truly be a yogi if I didn't go to India.  I wasted so much time thinking that when my children grow up, I'll be able to "fulfill my dharma".  

 As the saying goes, the days are long but the years are short.  I've been studying and practicing for 27yrs.  I never did make it to India.  I've never gone on a yoga retreat.  I did however manage to take nearly 2,000 hours of yoga teacher training.  I've been blessed with many incredible yoga adventures.  I've met tons of amazing people along this yoga journey.   

I turned 50 this past August.  My children are all grown. No more chauffeuring kids, no more cheering from the bleachers, no more parent-teacher conferences.  I have more time.  This mid-life space is a really interesting space to be in.  I have more time to do all the things I've always dreamt about doing only to find that those things don't seem important anymore.   Looking through the photos, I realized that I've been living my dharma all along.  Raising kind, caring, compassionate, creative children is the most important practice in the world.  Fulfilling my duties as a householder was how I honored God every day.  

The year I got lost

How do I begin this story?  It is after all, a story.  A true one but a story none-the-less.   A defining moment in my life but still, I acknowledge, a story.   

At first I thought the story began 10 months ago when I was attacked in Yoga-land.  However, as I mentioned already, this is a true story and if I'm honest the story began many lifetimes ago.  The "attack" was simply the trigger that sent me into the most recent spiral. 

Three months into the COVID19 crisis I found myself terrified every time my kids went to work that they would contract this potentially deadly disease, and trying to adapt to a virtual life.  Work, teaching, socializing all shifted to staring at a  computer screen for most of my day.   

Then June happened.  My dog, Luna, who I love like my child was having trouble breathing.  I was given 2 options 1) surgery that cost $8,000. (which might as well have been a million dollars) 2) Put her down.  I was devastated.  That was just the beginning.  Thanks to the generosity of my family and friends  I was able to pay for Luna's surgery.  The day of her surgery we had some freak storm that literally lasted all of 5 minutes but caused thousands of dollars in damage.  A huge tree in my backyard came down taking with it my fence and shed and lots of other things including the power lines.  

That night I couldn't sleep.  I didn't know if Luna would survive, I didn't know how I was going to re-pay everyone for the donations.  My virtual life came to a screeching halt without electricity. Luckily,  I was able to charge my phone in the car since I was waiting for an update on Luna. She wasn't doing as well as we had hoped after the surgery.   At 2am I decided to check my emails to distract myself for a while. 

It was at that moment, in the middle of this traumatic day that a "trauma informed" yoga teacher decided to attack me.  You see, it was June 2020 and the United States was on fire.  There was a deadly pandemic raging, there was political and civil unrest.  It was in the middle of this traumatic moment in my life that I was told that I hadn't done my part for social justice.  I was attacked for not being sensitive to the needs of  people who have experienced trauma.   It was also brought to my attention that I was contributing to the "cultural appropriation" of  yoga.  

At first, I tried to defend myself.  Then I got angry and decided to back away from yoga, social media, and basically everything and everyone that wasn't required or my family.  Then the downward spiral began to speed up.  Self-doubt set in and I started to think maybe she was right.  Maybe I am a terrible person.  Maybe I am not good enough.  Maybe I'm not doing enough. Maybe I am contributing to the suffering of others.   Once the spiral of negative self talk gets going it's like a runaway train.  

I defended myself over and over, I got angry, then I got to work.  I needed to improve myself.  I read books, watched videos, listened to podcasts.  The more I learned the more confused I became.  That's when it dawned on me.  Maybe, just maybe, she was wrong.  I'm not a terrible person.  I am good enough.  I am not contributing to the cultural appropriation of yoga.   I do care deeply about social justice.  

I will continue the practice of self-reflection and I will continue to work on self improvement.  What I won't do anymore is defend myself or explain myself.  I ask that you judge me on your own personal experience with me and not by the words of others.   

I have one more thing to ask of you.  Remember that everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Therefore, before you make the choice to verbally attack someone consider the possibility that your words may trigger that person back into self-destructive habits. 

"Trauma informed" means to recognize that trauma comes in many forms and in order to truly offer "trauma informed yoga" means that you are kind, gentle, and compassionate with everyone.  Before you make the choice to verbally attack someone ask yourself how would I speak to this person if I knew they were a victim of years of verbal abuse in the past? 

  The first rule of yoga is  AHIMSA.... Do no harm. 

What does Basketball have to do with Yoga?!

 Every other Thursday I pay bills.  Every month, when I pay the mortgage I congratulate myself for making it through another month.  More often then not I say to myself (and to anyone who happens to be near me at the time), "I really feel like someone should throw confetti when I pay the mortgage."  I actually mean it. Well, the other day my daughter did just that! She came home with a plastic gun that shot out confetti!   Tonight, while I was sweeping up the confetti I was reminded of something my teacher said many years ago.  

Let me set the scene for this story.  I rushed home from work to make dinner for my family and help with homework. I gather myself up and drive an hour to visit my teacher at his house.  I had been daydreaming about spending time talking about Yoga with Ed.  In those days my life was filled with work and kids and household chores so the thought of spending a couple of hours immersed in Yoga was heaven. 

Anyway, when I get there he's watching a basketball game.  I'm not going to lie, I was disappointed. I wanted to learn about Yoga and Life.  Basketball was a constant in my house in those days.  My daughter played for school,  all the neighborhood kids played on our net outside, it was always on TV or constantly being talked about.  I just wanted to talk to an adult about Yoga and Life!

At one point, he says "you know, Basketball is very much like life." I wasn't convinced but I was listening.   He continued, "If you miss a shot and you sit under the basket crying about it the game is still going on at the other end of the court without you and if you make the shot and stand under the basket patting yourself on the back, you're missing the game that's going on at the other end of the court without you."  

Turns out basketball, like paying bills, is a lesson in working without attachment to the fruits of your labor.   We work hard for the sake of working hard and offer it all up in service to God.  Life, like basketball moves so fast.  Don't waste too much time worrying about the failures or boasting about your accomplishments.  The point of life is to stay in the game. Keep working, keep moving and for the love of God enjoy it. 

The other life lesson I learned that night is that when we keep our minds and hearts open the world becomes our classroom and every moment of this crazy life is an opportunity to learn something. Who knew a basketball game was teaching me one of the principle lessons of the Bhagavad Gita? 

"You have the right to work, but never to the fruit of work. You should never engage in action for the sake of reward, nor should you long for inaction. Perform work in this world, Arjuna, as a man established within himself - without selfish attachments, and alike in success and defeat.” 

I'm not saying you shouldn't enjoy the accomplishments.  I'm just saying don't spend too much time patting yourself on the back.  Throw the confetti if that will make you happy. Just remember that tomorrow you'll have to clean it up and then get back to work so you can pay the mortgage next month and the game continues. 

Where do you stand?

Witnessing this moment in our country's history I osculate between horror and hope.  

Story after story of systemic racism breaks my heart daily.

Peaceful protests - arms linked in solidarity fill me with hope.

People I love and respect defending and justifying violence disgusts me. 

People I love and respect pledging to protect and support our marginalized brothers and sisters inspires me. 

Speeches that vomit hatred for another in the name of religion are vile. 

Actions of love, respect and service to another need no public declaration - God is there. 

I lose faith in humanity when I see someone being treated less than human. 

The resilience of the human spirit gives me strength and courage to keep extending my hand in service. 

The roots of hatred are so deep. It's overwhelming. 

It feels like we're digging up the roots of an ancient oak tree with a plastic beach shovel. 

But the mighty oak tree started as infinite potential stored in a tiny acorn.  

In this moment, we hold in our hands the same infinite potential for love and mutual respect. 

Like the tiny acorn, we are right now buried in darkness. We must allow ourselves to soften, be broken open, and continue to reach for light. 

Witnessing this moment in our country's history begs the question....What side of history do you want to be on?   Are you contributing to the horror or the hope?  How does your choice feel? 

Our shared belief

Those of you who know me know that I have very strong opinions.  I even joke about my strong opinions on things that don't fit neatly into one of my mentally constructed boxes.  My opinions and my values are very clear to me.  Things are either right or wrong, up or down, hot or cold, good or bad.... I could go on but you get the picture.

The practice of  acknowledging and examining my strongly held beliefs has been daunting and difficult but imperative.  Each day, I strive to be a better version of myself than I was the day before.  That requires I take a good hard look at my thoughts and beliefs.  The beauty of this bat-shit crazy human life is that we have the ability to evolve and grow.  It's not an easy process but nothing worth doing is ever easy.

It's overwhelming to see all the injustice and evil in the world.  The problems seem insurmountable.
I often times feel like I'm losing faith in humanity.  How can there be so much evil in this world?  I honestly, don't understand.  My heart breaks day after day. I feel powerless.

Watching the video of a cop murdering a handcuffed black man on the street was horrifying.  There's no doubt that what we all witnessed in that video was evil.   That's clear.  What's not clear to me is how anyone can defend the man who murdered George Floyd.  What's not clear to me is how the other cops can stand there and do nothing.  I can't even find the words to express the rage and sadness that I feel that this happened AGAIN. 

I have a teenage son. He's 17 years old and believes he's invincible as most teenage boys do. Whenever he leaves the house I worry as most mothers do. What I can't stop thinking about is the terror a mother of a black child must feel every time her child leaves the house.  When I look at my children I see your children too. 

The rage and sadness I'm feeling today is making it difficult for me to find the words so please forgive me as I must speak bluntly.  Until we all examine our belief that one life is more valuable than another NONE of our children are safe from evil.  Until we look at each other and see ourselves NONE of us are safe from evil.   We cannot heal the world around us and right the injustices until we acknowledge and examine that strongly held belief that "WE" are more valuable than "THEM". 

I don't give a damn what color you are, what religion you are, what political party you align yourself with, I don't give a damn whether you are straight or gay or both.  I don't give a damn how much money you have or how educated you are.  WE ARE THEM!! WE ARE ALL HUMAN BEINGS!!! 

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PEOPLE!!! WAKE THE FUCK UP!!

We must hold each other and ourselves accountable for not only our actions but the subtle underlying beliefs that contribute to the injustices in the world around us.  The practice of self-inquiry may show you some belief that you weren't even conscious of.  It may show you a belief that you are ashamed of or feel guilty about.  It may be a belief that is really hard to look at.  What matters now is acknowledging and taking responsibility.  We all have the ability to evolve and grow or to stick our heads in the sand and pretend that we aren't part of the problem.  The choice is yours. 

I am you and you are me. This must become our shared belief. 

Are you listening?

For years I've had this recurring dream.   A nightmare actually.  In the dream I'm the only one who notices that someone is about to open fire in a crowded place.  I'm in a panic because I know what's about to happen.  How do I warn people without bringing attention to myself?  How can I save everyone?  Why isn't anyone else seeing what I'm seeing?  What should I do?

The details change.  Sometimes I'm in a bank, sometimes I'm in a school, Once I was at an outdoor sporting event.  What's always the same is that I can see something that no one else sees.  What's always the same is people don't listen to my warnings.

Dreams seem to carry powerful messages for me.   I've been trying to understand the messages of this particular dream for a long time.   The fact that it's so dramatic and intense makes it hard to think about.  The fact that it's recurring means that as hard as it is to look at it's imperative that I get the message. 

It's March 16, 2020.  We are in the middle of a global pandemic.  Everyone is understandably freaking out.  It's a dramatic and intense time, much like in my dream.   Some businesses have listened to the warnings and closed while others have not listened to the warnings.  Some people are taking the warning of social distancing seriously while others...have not.

Even in yoga-land,  people are understandably freaking out.   So many people I know were struggling financially before Covid19 and will now most certainly suffer even more.  How do we quarantine ourselves when so many of us depend on our social interactions for not only financial support but also mental and emotional support?   What should we do?

There's a moment in the dream where I think to myself, maybe I'm over-reacting.  Maybe it's not a mass shooting that's about to happen.   What will people think if I'm wrong?  If it was anything serious surely someone else would notice before me. 

But what if I'm not wrong?  What if I don't speak up and people die because I was too afraid to speak up?  Even if no one listens I have to at least do my part to warn people.  How could I live with myself if I stand by and do nothing?

The message of the dream is this.... 

*   be quiet

*   pay attention to your surroundings

*   speak up even if you're scared 

*   trust your gut

*   trust someone else's gut when they give you a warning that might seem strange or weird

*   be still 

*   use this time of quarantine for contemplation 

*   not everything needs to be a social gathering

*   get  back to basics

*   exam your values 

*   old ways of working and living are no longer an option ... look for another way 

*   look out for one another; share your resources

*   take only what you need 

*  respect Mother Nature or suffer the consequences, the choice is yours

The Goddess, Durga is the great warrior Goddess of Protection.   When your mind begins to run out of control during these dramatic and intense times call on her.  Since your mind is going to obsess anyway give it something good to obsess over. When you don't know what to do repeat her mantra:  Om Hreem Shreem Dum Durgaya Namaha.

My heart hurts today

My heart hurts today.  

Another revered teacher exposed.  He wasn't my teacher but it still hurts.   Another story on the news.  Hindus killing Muslims in the name of religion.  I'm not a Hindu or a Muslim but it still hurts.  More people being used and abused.  It's not me this time, but it still hurts.   My heart hurts today and I don't know what to do about it.  

Yoga has always been my saving Grace.  The spiritual practice of yoga has literally pulled me out of a darkness that I never thought I could come back from.  Yoga is where I learned who I truly am.  

But today.....I'm questioning. 

Today....my heart hurts. 

Sadly, I wasn't surprised to hear about another teacher who has "fallen from Grace".   He isn't the first and he certainly won't be the last.  Truthfully,  I feel like it's good for things like this to be exposed.  

I'm grateful to the students who are finally saying enough is enough.  I acknowledge the strength and bravery it took for them to come forward.  

What did surprise me is the story on NPR this morning. There's fighting in India between the Hindus and Muslims in the name of religion.  For years I've been telling people that what appeals to me about the Hindu religion is that you are free to worship God in whatever way you see fit.  Yoga has taught me that having a personal relationship with God is what is most important.  BOY! DO I HAVE EGG ON MY FACE!  I clearly don't know anything about the Hindu religion.   Nor do I know anything about the Muslim religion.  What I do know is that when I heard the gut wrenching cries of the Muslim woman upon hearing the news that her son was killed my heart broke into a million pieces.  What I do know is a Mother's love... and pain. 

Today... I'm questioning....What about Ahimsa?

Ahimsa:  A Hindu spiritual doctrine that literally means respect for all living things and avoidance of violence toward others. Read that again... Respect for all livings things and avoidance of violence towards others. 

The other day I was talking to a fellow yoga teacher.  She was understandably upset over the stories that are coming out about her teacher.  It's heartbreaking to learn that someone you love and respected isn't who you thought they were.  This teacher who did these horrible things to people is also the teacher who taught so many students the powerful practices of yoga.  The same teacher who destroyed people's lives is also the same teacher who saved people's lives through the sacred teachings of yoga.   

This is the same struggle I've had with the Catholic church.  When I learned about the priests who did horrible things to the children I was heartbroken.  When I learned about how systemic and insidious the abuse is I was physically sick to my stomach.  I vowed to never step foot in a Catholic church again as long as I live.  But the same church that destroyed so many lives is also the same church that has saved so many other lives. 

Like my friend, Ananda, I don't want to stop practicing yoga any more than I want to stop praying the Rosary.  How do I continue to share the teachings of yoga when so much of it has been tainted by violence?  How can I continue to share my love for the Blessed Mother and the Rosary when so much of the Catholic religion has been tainted by violence?   Where do I go from here? 

For starters,  it's time to let go of the labels which separate us.  It's time to let go of the religions that make enemies of our neighbors.  It's time to let go of greed. It's time to let go of the desire for power over others.  It's time to let go of the veils that prevent us from seeing the truth.  

I cannot control the actions of others but I can control my actions.  I will choose love over hate.   I will stand up and protect those who aren't able to protect themselves.  I will not turn a blind eye to abuse.  Above all, I am committed to upholding the fundamental doctrine of Ahimsa. 

The spiritual practice of Yoga has always been a safe space for me.  I intent to do everything in my power to make sure that it continues to be a safe space for myself and for the students who choose to practice with me. 

Change is bittersweet

It hit me today.  I've known it would happen but today the reality of it hit me.  Tomorrow morning will be the last yoga class I take in this space.  As I sat at the coffee shop sipping Chai I looked across the street.  Reminiscing  about the first class I took at Yoga on Main.  

It was a Saturday morning and the first person I met when I opened the door to Yoga on Main was a woman named Kate. She had long hair, almost down to her feet.  She greeted me with a smile and a hug as she said "I'm so glad you're here." In that moment I had no idea how much my life would change; how much I would change.

My love affair with yoga had begun many years before.  By the time I arrived at Yoga on Main I had established a home practice and I was meditating daily.  Actually, I was already teaching by then.  My regular yoga teacher had stopped teaching on Saturdays so I was just looking for a place to practice.  What I found was so much more.   

Yoga on Main is not just a yoga studio.  I don't think there are words to adequately convey what Yoga on Main is but I'm going to try.  A lot of people, when they first come to YOM, say they can feel the years of spiritual practice that has happened in the space.  Some returning students have referred to YOM as the "mother ship" and expressed that coming back to the studio is like coming back home to refuel.   Some have said that no matter how far away they travel or how long they have been away they are comforted knowing that YOM is always there.  In a world of constant change YOM has been a stable base for so many people.  It's been a spring board for others. Over the years many students have been trained here and have gone on to become incredible yoga teachers themselves. Many opening their own studios near and far.  

At Yoga on Main I learned how to be a yoga teacher, and an Ayurveda Lifestyle consultant but most importantly I learned how to be a yoga student.  I have learned the tools necessary to navigate the journey to self-realization.  I started practicing yoga as a way to relieve stress but the practice has also taken me into the depths of my soul.  For me, Yoga on Main is a sacred container.  In that space I feel safe to explore, to let my guard down, to be vulnerable, to be authentically ME.

In this sacred space I have learned to look at the challenges in life as a opportunity to put the teachings of yoga into practice.  I have learned that yoga isn't just the physical practice that we do once a week in yoga class.  I've learned that yoga is a way of living in harmony with nature and with each other.  

Let's face it though,  Yoga is not all love and light and cotton candy.  This practice of yoga is hard sometimes.  I have had my fair share of challenges even in yoga land.  I've come face to face with my own ego and the ego of others.  Those times when my ego got the best of me I would feel ashamed about the way I handled situations.  I would return to Yoga on Main,  head down in shame and I would be greeted with open arms and the world famous, Shiva Das hug.  In those moments I learned forgiveness in my teacher's example. 

This sacred space that is Yoga on Main cannot be contained in the four walls of a building.  The scared space that is Yoga on Main is a way of living, it is a practice of living in harmony with nature and in harmony with each other.   Yoga on Main is a community of teachers, students, and spiritual seekers.  The wisdom, love, and support provided to so many is so big and so deep that no building can contain it.  

The "mother-ship" is moving but the sacred container that is Yoga on Main will remain the same safe haven it's always been.  No matter how far we travel or how long we've been away there will always be Yoga on Main waiting with open arms, a smile and the feeling of  "I'm so glad you're here"  

The man with the conch shell

I recently ran into a man that I had met only once a couple of years ago.  I greeted him with "it's nice to see you again."  To which he replied "it's nice to be seen."   That simple statement "it's nice to be seen." has been rolling around in my head for a couple of weeks now.  It reminded me of Mrs. Greene, the principle at the elementary school.

Mrs. Greene and I didn't always see eye to eye when Tayler was at Overlook but the year Jake started I had a change of heart.  It was Mrs. Greene who introduced me, and the whole school, to an African word, "Ubantu".   Ubantu, she explained, was a way to say I see you.  You are because I am.  It is a reminder of our shared humanity.   When children are acting out  they are seeking attention.  When Mrs. Greene would notice students not getting along she would say "Ubantu" to remind the children of the Ubantu philosophy:  I see you.  You and I are one.  She felt that if the children felt "seen" they would have less reason to act out. 

I've spent most of my life hiding.  Doing my best to blend into the background.  I choose the spot in the back of the room always.   I cringe when the Facebook notification says "someone has tagged you in a photo" And yet, there is an innate need to be seen.  

"It's nice to be seen" 

It is this innate need to be seen that causes some people to be boastful.  To be honest, I mentally slap people who act like Peacocks displaying their feathers.  I'm not proud of it but it's true.  I have no tolerance for people that constantly want to be the center of attention.  I want to scream at them: 

"YOU ARE NOT THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE!!" I hear myself thinking "Get over yourself'" when someone is trying hard to impress me with how wonderful they are and how much they have accomplished. Then I beat myself up for being so mean.  I tell myself that it's the green eyed monster of jealousy that is making me feel so irritated.   

In a moment of clarity I recognize myself in those peacocks.  I remember our shared humanity, Ubantu.  I remember that the same innate human desire to be seen is in me and in you.  How we express this desire may be different but it comes from the same place.  

It's nice to be seen but I have no control over what others see in me.  Instead, I will focus on making an effort to be more present with others so that I may SEE beyond the ego personality.   Who ARE we beyond our ego personality?  Can I see that within myself? Can I see it in others?  What does it feel like to really be seen?   

Ubantu... I see you.  I'm grateful to the man with the conch shell who reminded me "It's nice to be seen." 

Compassion

"Where's the compassion?"  I've spent a lot time thinking about  compassion since that question was posed to me.   First thing I did was look up the definition of compassion.

Compassion; noun  (online dictionary)
"sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings or misfortune of others." 

This is the one I liked the best:
"compassion literally means to suffer together." (greatergood.berkeley.edu)

Then I read a bunch of online articles about what compassion is. I consulted the Bhagavad Gita and the Upanishads.   I watched some podcasts about it.  I had resolved to learn everything I could about compassion.

At the end of my week long search I can say, with a fair amount of certainty, that where compassion is not is in my head.   What I did find in my head was a lot of negative self-talk.  I kept telling myself that I am somehow deficient in the "compassion department".   How can I feel compassion for people who have hurt me?  That's crazy!!  No way!!  I'm not feeling sorry for those people! 

Get out of your head and into your heart. 

This morning a sat for meditation with the thought that I had failed at finding compassion.  Sitting in front of my alter I prayed to the Divine Mother to show me the way.  There wasn't much time after meditation to journal. I was already running late for work but as I showered I felt myself getting angry.  

I am a compassionate person!!! and just like that... I found where compassion is.   It's in my heart.  It was as if the Divine Mother turned the light on in my heart. I could see clearly that love, empathy, and compassion are qualities of my true nature.  

Through out the day today I had flashes of memories.  Memories where I felt hurt or betrayed.    When I observed those memories I was seeing the actions of the other person.  It wasn't until I turned my focus inward towards myself that I was able to see "where the compassion was".  It was in my ability to forgive over and over.  It was in my ability to keep showing up wholeheartedly.  It was in my ability to see that the actions of the person doing the hurting were motivated by their own pain and suffering.  

The Divine Mother's light in my heart helped me to see that in my effort for self preservation I had hardened my heart.  At the time, it felt like the only way for me to free myself from the endless cycle of abuse that had become my dysfunctional marriage.  I had come to believe that my capacity for forgiveness was a sign of weakness.  I must  be stupid to have stayed in an unhealthy relationship for so long.  I was wrong, I wasn't stupid or weak.  I have compassion for the suffering of others.  I am blessed with a great capacity to "suffer together".  Feeling the pain and suffering of others as if it were my own is compassion.  

One of the articles I read said that compassion is not only feeling the suffering of others but also wanting to help.  The fact of the matter is that sometimes the most compassionate thing we can do to help someone is to show them that their actions have consequences.  I can be a compassionate person and maintain strong boundaries.  I can feel compassion for your suffering and  still hold you accountable for your actions when you use your suffering as an excuse to hurt others. 

Now, the work is to have compassion for myself and acknowledge that I am doing the very best I can.  Allowing myself to soften and open my heart again will take time, patience and self compassion.  I have faith that returning to my true nature will be worth the effort. 

"Where's the compassion?"  In the lotus of the heart.  Om Mani Padme Hum.

The Yoga of Motherhood

At yoga this morning a woman said (about motherhood) "even though it was really hard I wouldn't have it any other way. "  Her daughter is grown and she has the 20/20 vision of hindsight on her side.  My initial thought was how lucky she is that she doesn't have any regrets.

My kids are mostly grown too. My vision, however, was not as clear at first.   For a second I missed the part where she said "It was really hard..."   I sometimes regret not having the option to be a stay at home mom.  I sometimes still worry that I could have done things better. I sometimes still feel somehow deficient.  Still.... I wouldn't have it any other way.   As we all know, motherhood takes us to the brink of insanity nearly every day but it also shows us our infinity capacity to love.

As I was reflecting on my experiences with motherhood I could see very clearly that it has provided plenty of  opportunities  to practice the teachings of yoga.

Things like "non-attachment" might seem foreign to some but to a mom, it's a daily experience.
"Where's my favorite coffee mug?"  Oh... there it is in the basement with paint brushes in it.  Eating soup with a fork because all the spoons have mysteriously disappeared.  I could write a book entitled "The Nicholson mysteries"  about all the exercises in non-attachment.  The mystery of the missing spoons is just the latest edition.

Learning to stay one pointed in the midst of chaos.  There's a story of a yoga master that was able to meditate in the middle of New York City.  He's got nothing on yoga-moms.  Have you ever tried to cook dinner with kids fighting, barking dogs chasing each other while still wearing your work clothes and not loose your mind?  When I started meditating my kids were little.  I would set a timer outside my bedroom door.  It didn't take long before I'd hear whispers and then fighting on the other side of that door.  Still, I flexed my discipline muscles and continued to sit in "meditation" until the timer went off.  As I learned "one pointed concentration" my kids learned boundaries and the importance of self-care.  They may have caused chaos but they rarely opened the door.

Ever heard of ahimsa?  Ahimsa is a first principle in yoga --  Non-harming.  That might seem obvious to new moms rocking their sweet little ones who coo and smile at them all day.  It's much harder when your teenager screams "I hate you!!  you're ruining my life".  I never understood how anyone could hurt their child until..... PUBERTY.  I shudder to think what kind of mother I would have been without my yoga practice.

All I ever really wanted from the yoga practice was equanimity of mind.  I wanted to be able to maintain composure regardless of what was going on around me.   Lucky for me God is generous and gives me lots of chances to practice.  From, everyday chances like when the dog destroys yet another sofa to extreme chances like when my daughter nearly dies in childbirth.  What I've learned is that although it's important to maintain composure in the moment it's also important that we acknowledge our emotions and allow ourselves to feel them.... Even if that means meltdowns in the shower.  Teaching little kids how to deal with really BIG emotions is done by example.   If we don't allow our children to see us feeling our feelings then they grow up without the tools to process their own.  This is one of the many balancing "poses" moms practice daily.  The balance between maintaining composure so that kids feel safe but also allowing them to see us feeling our feelings.

Perhaps the most interesting experience of motherhood is the ability to hold two opposing emotions at the same time. The moment you can feel so much love that your heart could burst and at the same time wanting to loose your shit when you see your daughter carved "I love you Mom" on your beautiful wood dining room table.  The moment  your kid comes home way past curfew and you feel relief that they are still alive and at the same time wanting to kill them for ignoring curfew.   How about that feeling of pride when you see what truly great humans your kids are and at the same time feeling so much guilt and self doubt worrying about all the mistakes you've made.

Every motherhood moment is simultaneously filled with the greatest joy you've ever known and with the most overwhelming fear and anxiety.  Motherhood is not "having no regrets"   It's about doing the best you can.  It's about loving fiercely.

"Even though it's really hard, I wouldn't have it any other way."   I couldn't agree more, Vicki.

Good night to Swaha

Tonight feels like a good night to swaha. 

Swaha is what we say as we offer our intentions into the fire for transformation. 

Swaha is I offer, I release 

 I offer my gratitude 

Swaha!

 I release fear

Swaha!

 I offer myself in service

Swaha!

I release worry

Swaha!

I offer my heart with love and compassion

Swaha!

I release resentment 

Swaha!

I offer forgiveness to myself and others

Swaha! 

I release anger and frustration

Swaha!

I offer my home to anyone who needs a safe space

Swaha!

I release all that no longer services me 

Swaha! 

I offer kindness and understanding

Swaha

I release the heaviness in my heart

Swaha!

I offer my thoughts, words, and deeds as instruments of God's Divine Will.

Swaha!

I release my ego at the feet of the Divine Mother

Swaha!