Searching for Sattva

Tending the Seads

2012-04-28T10:23:00.000-07:00

Almost three years ago I sat recovering in bed following the latest battle with a congenital heart condition I have. I had popped both wires of my Implantable Cardiac Defibrillator (ICD) and as a result was receiving inappropriate shocks. This brought the grand total of shocks given to me since the ICD was placed in 2001 to nine, and resulted in a surgery (the 3rd in 8 years) to replace the wires. There had been complications leading to a 4th surgery within 12 hours of the 3rd.

I was tired of fighting. I was disgusted that my children had to see their mother like this. I had finally been feeling like my life was getting back on track after rebuilding it for 8 years after my dance career was cut short following the initial placement of that damn device. Didn’t the powers that be realize I was raising two small kids? I had a husband who worked crazy hours! I did not have time to deal with this surgery and recovery! I was done. I couldn’t wrestle with it any more. I didn’t want to die… but I didn’t really want to live either. I flushed the bottle of pain killers I was given because I was too terrified of what I might do. The first call I made was to my therapist. The second was to my Teachers.

When I was able to get out of bed, I sat with my teachers, Bob and Cindi Barton, who had driven 40 minutes to meet me at the local shala where I was a yoga instructor. I sat and cried, releasing my fears in to their ears, and in the process opening my heart to remembering the teachings of yoga.

When presented with disquieting thoughts or feelings, cultivate and opposite, elevated attitude. This is Pratipaksha Bhavana.
-Sutra II. 33 as translated by Nischala Joy Devi

I saw myself as disparaged-- sensing my dreams neglected. So I cultivated appreciation. To put it out to the universe, I wrote daily appreciations as status updates on my Facebook page. Sometimes they were small: I appreciate that I hit all the green lights on Penn Avenue. Some were reflective: I appreciate that when I had nothing else to grasp, I held on to my training and was able to meditate my way to serenity on the surgical table. Many served to remind me of the blessings right in front of me: I appreciate the rain storm providing the perfect soundtrack to snuggling with my kids under a blanket on the front porch.

For two years, these appreciations taught me about the abundance in my life. They demonstrated that my path was being laid before me. Within six months, I was appreciating that I had been offered the opportunity to share my practice therapeutically with heart patients. Months after that, I was appreciating that teaching for that was healing my own heart in more ways than I could have expected.

What these appreciations did not do was deny me. I could still sit with my feelings of doubt and sadness. I could still grieve the dance career that wasn’t given the chance to blossom. It was ok to feel guilty that my supportive husband had to learn the part about ‘in sickness and in health’ from the very genesis of our lives together. I was allowed to be angry that my children had to live with the reality of a mom who had a bum heart, and mourn that they also carry this gene. All of this anguish could co-exist with gratitude.

Yet, the longer I offered thanks daily, the less I needed to sit with this suffering. These disquieting thoughts no longer had power, because I did not actively nurture them the way I cultivated their opposite. Each emotion was a seed, but I only watered and gave sun to gratitude: Pratipaksha Bhavana.

One day about a year ago, I stopped writing these daily appreciations. It wasn’t because I was no longer seeing anything to be grateful for. It was because I was overwhelmed daily by all I had to appreciate. This sense of thankfulness had integrated itself in to my consciousness and allowed me to trust in that abundance.

Last week, I received some disheartening news. I saw fear and frustration rise up like familiar companions. Sitting down at my computer I wrote, “Daily Appreciation: good friends who not only adopt you and your kids for dinner while the hubs has a crazy work week, but who listen when you need to talk, hug when you need to hug, cry with you, offer insight and advice at just the right moments, and make it better just by being there and knowing they support you.” Yes. I truly am blessed.

Summer Teaching Schedule

2011-06-14T05:59:00.000-07:00

Hi All! I'm super excited that I'll be teaching a bunch of classes over the next few months that are open to the public. Please come join me! These will all be held at Schoolhouse Yoga at their Squirrel Hill Location. Classes are $15 each or buy a class card and join me for several! http://www.schoolhouseyoga.com/default.aspx Namaste!

June 12 430-5:50pm Yoga 1

June 18 8:30-10am Yoga 2

10:30-11:50am Yoga 1

12:30-1:50pm Yin Yoga

July 9 8:30-10am Yoga 2

10:30-11:50am Yoga 1

12:30-1:50pm Yin Yoga

July 16 8:30-10am Yoga 2

10:30-11:50am Yoga 1

12:30-1:50pm Yin Yoga

July 17 430-5:50 Yoga 1

July 23 8:30-10am Yoga 2

10:30-11:50am Yoga 1

12:30-1:50pm Yin Yoga

The Story of Yoga as We Know It Today

2011-06-12T05:59:00.000-07:00

Clean Mind, Clean Body

2011-01-28T15:12:00.000-08:00

I admit it. The holidays really did a number on me. It was the first year I have every really worked consistently part time since I had kids and I still wanted to do everything I had done before so my children had those traditions to look back on. There was the baking, and the shopping, and the tree... so all of this left little time for me to eat well. And it didn't help that Ornish is located right next to a Dunkin' Donuts (those jelly donuts just call my name during Channukah!!!). Then I got sick. By the time January rolled around everything about me felt heavy. My gut felt heavy. My heart felt heavy. My energy felt heavy.

Enter Leah Shannon, owner of Full Well, and Holistic Health Counselor Extraordinaire (not to mention a dear friend of mine!). She emailed me and mentioned that she was going to be offering a Winter Cleanse and asked if I could provide a 10 minute detoxifying yoga sequence. I said, "Sure! But I want to do the cleanse too!"

Yoga is an excellent way to encourage detoxification in the body. The main systems that cleanse the body- circulatory, digestive, and lymph- are all stimulated in a balanced yoga practice. Yoga facilitates the proper workings of these systems by lengthening, pulling, stretching, contracting, compressing, and twisting every bit of you so that even the deep tissues are stimulated and encouraged to release waste. The deep breathing of yoga not only helps to expel excess carbon dioxide, but also stimulates organ function and massages those organs so that they can better do their job in detoxifying the body. Most importantly, the practices helps to calm and cleanse the mind of toxic thoughts, bringing together a more cohesive mind/ body connection.

So here I am- Five days under my belt and feeling pretty damn good! My sugar and caffeine cravings are gone and I'm confident going in to my second week. I've also developed a soothing and cleansing practice that you can use too!

10 Minute Yoga Detox

Try to hold all postures for at least five even and steady breaths, unless otherwise indicated.

1. Sukasana (Easy Pose) with breath awareness (30-40 breaths) and Full Yogic Breath (5-10)

2. Cat/ Cow flow (10 breaths)
http://www.yogajournal.com/poses/2468
http://www.yogajournal.com/poses/2467

3. Adho Mukha Svanasana (Downward Facing Dog Pose)

4. Plank Pose

5. Bhujangasana (Cobra Pose)

6. Balasana (Child’s Pose)

7. Parivrtta Janu Sirsasana (Twisted Head to Knee Pose)
Twist the body towards the knee and open the arm (same arm as straight leg) up behind you.

8. Ardha Matsyendrasana (Half Lord of the Fishes)… this twist can be done with bottom leg straight

9. Paschimottanasana (Intense West Stretch-- Seated forward bend)

****Repeat steps 7-9 on opposite side before continuing on.****

10. Jathara Parivartanasana (Reclined Twist)
Practice this on both sides.

11. Savasana (Corpse Pose)

Wordless Wednesday

2011-01-19T05:16:00.000-08:00

Adapting to Adjustments

2011-01-16T18:01:00.000-08:00

I had an interesting conversation with a friend a while ago that has been in the back of my mind since. She had taken a yoga class at her local health club and was feeling insecure about it because the teacher had given her a lot of attention in the form of adjustments.

The fact that she was a little unnerved by this surprised me. I LOVE to get adjustments when I take a class. Maybe it is the dancers ego in me that strongly remembers a childhood friend-- also a dancer-- telling me it was good that I was getting adjustments. She said it meant that the teacher saw talent in me. Ever since that conversation when I got a 'correction' in my dance class or a kinder 'adjustment' in a yoga class, it was always a nonverbal bit of encouragement saying, "You can do this!" My friend, on the other hand, said she felt almost like the teacher was picking on her. It got me thinking about how and why I give adjustments as a teacher. I've been wondering if my students ever felt the same way, and it saddens me to think they could.

As an instructor, my intention is always to wait to adjust a student until they are ready to accept what you are offering. As a teacher trainee, I was always shown how to use non-verbal adjustments first, or one finger adjustments to correct a misalignment and ensure safety for students who are new to us. As we continue with a student, the relationship builds so that they can trust you and allow you to open them up to a deeper expression of the posture. It is then that we can grow more hands on with our assistance.

Not long after this conversation with my mom, I went to a five day intensive with the internationally renowned teacher Donna Farhi. She brought an even deeper insight to the art of adjustments: The Neutral Touch. She described how on top of asking verbal permission to adjust a student, when she first touches them she comes to them with a touch that is neither timid nor aggressive and "wait for the sentries to welcome you in." From that point on a teacher can guide the student further in to the asana.

As important as it is for a teacher to respect the student's limitations in every adjustment, it is equally important for students to take on responsibilities for their own bodies. My teacher is not in my body and can not sense and feel what I do. If an instructor is making an adjustment that doesn't feel "right," it is the student's responsibility to verbalize that. A student also has the right to verbally refuse an adjustment if they don't want it. We are encouraged to do this by the yama (restraint) of ahimsa (non-violence). We practice ahimsa with our bodies when we listen and honor them and their limitations. A good teacher will respect the student for where they are in their process.

I've been sharing these ideas with my friend. As with all things in life, we have to be ready for changes... willing to adjust. When the time is right and we can be present with what needs to happen, we adapt in the way we need to so we can develop each posture to its fullest nature within our body.

Checking In

2011-01-06T18:05:00.000-08:00

More and more, I am working with people interested in how Yoga can help them relieve stress. While a daily asana practice will certainly balance the hormones and a consistent meditation practice helps to maintain center, taking it off the mat and in to daily life can be a challenge.

One of the most powerful changes a Yoga practice can make is that it builds greater awareness in the body. Our communication with ourselves takes on a whole new conversation as we connect further inward using breath as our language. When the body begins to understand its signals are heard, the healing process can begin and we can rid our bodies of the seeds of disease that stress creates.

To carry this communication in to daily life, it helps to begin to create ritual check ins with yourself. For example, at every stop light... on the bus... during commercials... while waiting in lines... we can start to check in with our physical body (Annamaya kosha), our breath body (Pranamaya kosha), and our emotional body (Manomaya kosha). We begin by simply observing any areas of tension, discovering where we might be constricting or holding. Observe the qualities of each of these bodies. There is no need to judge. We simply study what is happening within-- the way a mother watches her child play on the playground.

Consider these initial observations a baseline assessment. After this baseline is established, invite any areas of tension to soften and release. This is especially effective with the physical and breath bodies. Tension in the emotional body can manifest stubbornly. While softening with the breath is helpful, we invite ourselves sit in whatever emotion is present. In my experience, emotions are like some misbehaving children-- offering them your attention allows them to settle.

As our awareness of stress and tension grows, we begin to recognize these sensations in their infancy. This gives us the opportunity to draw upon the tools in our Yoga tool box (pranayama, visualization, systematic tensing and releasing in the body, etc.) and fizzle the stress.

Opening Our Wings

2010-06-29T05:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went and took a yoga class at BYS on the South Side, here in Pittsburgh. I parked my car a block and a half away, grabbed my mat, slung it over my shoulder and started my stroll to class.

Suddenly, something flitted across my face. I put my hand up as a reaction and the butterfly that had just brushed my cheek with it's wings landed on the back of it. I brought it up to eye level, and her delicate feet tapped around on my hand so she was facing me, her wings folded tight together.

We examined eachother. I watched her proboscis curl out and taste my skin. I observed the underside of her wings (all she would allow me to see)...soft and brown. Her graceful legs would carry the weight of her body with such strength as she explored me.

I continued my walk to class, assuming she would fly off when I began to move. I was certain the shift would startle her (as much as I truly tried to move gently) and anticipated her lift off at any moment. Yet she stayed with me. No traffic noises, shouts from my fellow pedestrians, or feathery breezes would deter her. As for my part, I tried to shield her from the warm breaths of air that brushed against us with my other hand and pulled her close to act as a buffer for her. We made it the block and a half to the door of the shala safe and sound.

Again, I waited for her to leave. Again, she chose to stay with me. Perhaps, I thought, I'm being given a lesson. So I allowed myself to pause and listen to her wisdom. I grew aware of each sensation of her tiny feet, each twitch of antenae. The longer we stayed there, I became further mindful of the sounds of the cars and trucks on bustling Carson Street... the coolness of the damp morning air... the scents of coffee wafting from windows near by. We two became absorbed in to the morning for what seemed like endless time.

Then, without warning, she opened her wings and allowed me to behold her colors. She was a beautiful Question Mark Butterfly. Her brown underside did little to prepare me for this unexpected grace. The contrasting colors popped and shimmered in the light. Her glory was soft, simple and strong at once and the top of her body was as striking and wondrous as her wings. I offered a silent thanks to her for trusting her beauty with me as she turned. Just as suddenly as she arrived, she flew away.

As I lay on my mat that morning, eyes closed and hugging my knees to my chest, I listened to the quiet chatter of my fellow yogis and yoginis as they waited for class to start. It occurred to me that our practice is much like that of my butterfly friend's lesson to me. We come to class and practice at our home for days and weeks... months and years. We shield ourselves from the outside. We wait and anticipate. We practice presence. And in those rare and precious times we wholly allow our expectations to dissolve and drink in each breath, each sensation, each glorious experience as it happens, it is only then that our inner guide can finally show us our colors.

Breath in, Breath out.

2010-03-05T12:52:00.000-08:00

It's been a stressful and emotional week. I was in the height of my fears and frustrations when my husband looked at me and said, "Kristie, BREATH. This is all temporary." My husband found wisdom so simply stated. I had forgotten how we get through anything tough in life (or perhaps more accurately, how we get through life): one breath at a time. From that point on, whenever the situation I was dealing with got too tough, I breathed...consciously. The emotions came up, bubbled out, and passed.

Yesterday, a friend was asking me which Pranayama I practiced to calm myself down when feeling anxious. The first one that came to mind was the one I had found most cleansing and relaxing throughout the week: The Full Yogic Breath. What is that? How do you do it? This is how I like to teach it in class:

Sit with your legs folded and your spine long. Bring your right hand to your navel and your left hand to your breast bone. In your mind's eye, see a closed flower in each of the three origin points of the Full Yogic Breath-- the lower abdomen below the navel, the middle abdomen above the navel, and the upper chest under your breast bone. We begin by breathing in to each part individually before we combine them for a Complete Yogic Breath.

Send all the breath in your body out through your nose. As you draw new breath in, allow it to o pen the flower in the lower abdomen. As the flower blooms, your right hand will rise. Send that breath back out of the body and observe the flower closing again. This breath induces profound relaxation for the heart, reduces high blood pressure, stimulates digestive processes, and regulates intestinal activity.

Inhale again and release the blossom in the middle abdomen above the navel, expanding the rib cage and lowering the diaphragm. Again, release that breath and watch the petals come together. This breath takes the strain off the heart and provides new supply of blood to the liver, gall bladder, spleen, and kidneys.

Bring the breath in once more and observe the bloom of the flower under your breast bone, drawing the left hand up with it. Once again, send the breath away and close the blossom near your heart. This breathing pattern strengthens the hilar lymph nodes in the lungs and thoroughly nourishes the tips of the lungs.

On the next inhalation, we will open all three flowers with the same breath. Inhale and watch the flowers blossom one at a time- lower abdomen, above your navel, and breastbone. Each opening gives way to the blooming of the next flower. As you exhale each subsequent flower folds back in to itself, ready to begin the process again-- first your lower abdomen, then above your navel, and then your chest. Continue this process.

In this way, your breath is the sun warming the petals and drawing them open- fresh with new energy. As you exhale, the petals reunite and restore. This should not be forced-- it is as natural as a morning glory blooming at first light.

This process of bringing in renewed energy and restoration is a powerful instrument that can be used to induce deep relaxation. It encourages the body and mind to unwind and rest.

An Early Spring

2010-02-11T16:55:00.000-08:00

Whew! What a week it's been! We've been buried under 22 inches of snow here in Pittsburgh. The city has been at a stand still and many of us have been stuck in our homes.

This universe supported pause has created a bit of cabin fever in my household-- at least for everyone but me. As my kids and husband have climbed the walls, I found myself grateful for the hushed world outside. Rather than feeling self inflicted pressure to get back to "my old life", I was offered an opportunity to allow myself to slow down and appreciate what I have right now. There is no "old life" to get back to. I am alive. I am here. I have changed and grown. I have this life now.

These cooped up hours found me in meditation as I rolled out dough for stromboli or folded loads of laundry. In that time I saw myself lifting through the dankness of the last few months and bathing in hope and faith. I discovered an organic process of my spirit budding-- beginning to have faith again in my Hatha practice and hope of what moving back towards my daily practice might mean for my life.

After my blog post about how I had been avoiding my Hatha practice, a wise Yogi suggested to me her suspicion that it was not avoidance but merely that I was not yet ready to practice again. Her words have been on my heart in my meditations.

Tonight as I nursed my daughter to sleep, I felt overwhelmed with desire to move my body...to breath my prayer in asana. I find myself ready once again-- no longer scared of my Hatha Practice but EXCITED to meet myself on the mat and discover what I need to learn.

I look out my window to the cold darkness. Under the heavy weight of all that snow, little green things patiently burrow in the dirt, waiting to feel the warmth of the sun coaxing them up through the earth. When plants are dormant, all life processes are going on, but only at a much slower rate. This interlude allows for a reawakening in the spring. If the gardener looks carefully, they see that the old brown parts aren't turning green-- they are being replaced by new growth.

It would seem that in the time following my surgery, I had my own personal winter. It took a blizzard to show me the importance of pause. It may be eight degrees outside, but it feels as if spring has come early in this house. Little buds, roots, and shoots are starting to grow!

Living in the Guest House

2010-02-03T07:34:00.000-08:00

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi ~
(The Essential Rumi, versions by Coleman Barks)

I took my first class since surgery last night. It was a gentle class taught by my teacher, Cindi. While I was driving there, my hands were trembling and I couldn't believe how nervous I was! Then it hit me-- my practice is a living prayer. I've been angry with God. When I'm angry with someone, my tendency is to shut them out. I wonder if not being ready to practice was my way of saying, "I'm not talking to you." Well, it felt time to open the lines of communication.

I walked in to the studio and was greeted with a warm hug and an understanding smile from Cindi. She's been with me through all of this so she had a keen awareness of my trepidation. I have found it such a blessing to have a teacher with whom I can completely be honest about where I am. There is no judgment...no advice...she just lets me be and then offers support and information. She's present with me.

Class started and it felt like coming home when I brought my awareness to my breath. With my new limitations, I found myself having to discover new ways of moving. In many respects, I felt like a beginner... and it felt WONDERFUL! I offered myself the gift of presence. My legs didn't stretch as far as they did two months ago- so what? I had limited mobility in my left shoulder- so what? I was once again moving in meditation!

Then, we moved to balasana (Child's Pose). This was the asana I was in when I was shocked by my ICD. I panicked a bit. My breath became shorter. Then I felt Cindi's hands on my back. She just held them there a moment (I learned later she was offering me some Reiki). Then all of a sudden, I felt grounded. My entire body softened at once. I made it through...crossed a major hurdle!

The next challenge was in Savasana. I found it blissful and scary all at once. Cindi gave a beautiful Yoga Nidra and I felt myself bouncing between enjoying the hum of my body and wanting to jump out of it in anxiety. Eventually, as I sat with the fear, I saw it's roots as distrust. The challenge has now become finding ways to work in my body and trusting it, in spite of its imperfections. I suppose that trust needs to develop out of acceptance.

I find myself excited to work this out. These feelings of fear are temporary and fleeting...So I will take Rumi's advice and invite them in for tea.

2010-01-19T18:34:00.000-08:00

I admit it: I'm avoiding my practice. I'll chant mantras throughout the day with no problem. Heck, my 4 year old can chant "om gum ganapatayei namaha' right along with me. I will even use Nadi Sodhana when I feel a bit of stress during the day.

Yet when I think about carving out some devoted time and sitting down to do some restorative yoga or yoga nidra, I get all nervous and anxious. Yes, I realize it's counter-intuitive. These techniques are supposed to sooth the parasympathetic nervous system and I would likely feel calmer after I practice.

I am even conscious of why I am having this reaction. I'm scared because the last time I went in to child's pose I was shocked by my defribulator. The last time I really had to dig deep and rely on pranayama, I was on a gurney waiting to be wheeled in to surgery and terrified. The last time I truly sat present with myself for any length of time, my chest was cut open and doctors were digging around inside of me.

A friend did a beautiful guided meditation with me on Sunday. She really got me to touch emotions so delicate I almost couldn't hold them for fear they might break. It's strange to be in a paradox like this... I need to go there to invite these emotions to the surface, acknowledge them and let them go. Yet at the same time, there is primitive fear that embracing such depth would bring me to despair.

I question where to go from here... how do I break through the wall between me and myself? The old Nike commerical goes running through my head, "Just do it."

Maybe tomorrow?

Going with the Flow

2010-01-12T18:54:00.000-08:00

It's been a tough week. Let's be honest: it's been a tough few months. In addition to dealing with a sick husband and a wicked cold, I ended up in the emergency room last week. It turns out that because they had to place the new wires for my ICD in the same vein as my old, capped off wires, there's a bit of a blood flow problem. There's far less space for the blood to move. When gravity isn't on my side and I'm not completely vertical, I get a tremendous pressure on my head and neck. It's a sensation I can only liken to my neck being squeezed... highly uncomfortable. It makes leaning over to put the kids in car seats, tie shoes, or make beds take so much longer because I have to keep standing up to make the blood move. Sleeping is uncomfortable as well. The hope is that as my body adapts to the wires, this will all go away in about two to three months.

To say that my health issues are starting to get to me is and understatement. I was bitching and moaning about my frustrations with my health on facebook. My status read,"Kristie would like-- someday soon-- to feel healthy. It's been since Nov 12 that I've been 100%. Since then: 3 icd shocks, two surgeries, recovery, scratched cornea, slow blood flow in veins around the leads of my ICD, and now this nasty cold resulting in stuffy nose, fever, cough and chills.... I'm over it!" The next day my status read, "Frustrated that I am not the mommy my kids know and love and haven't been since Nov... And I have at least two more months until my neck issue clears up and I can bend down or raise my pulse without feeling like my head will explode."

One of my wise friends wrote back and suggested I use this as an opportunity to practice patience. Intellectually, I realize she speaks the truth. I get it. Patience, however, has never been a strength of mine. I sat there reading her words and it was as if I was reading Greek. Patience? What's that? How does one go about having patience?

The answer was discovered within. The more my heart rate rises and strains to make that blood move, the more pressure I feel as the blood tries to work around the wires. The exertion my heart puts forth in trying to force the process only makes the situation that much more painful. It exhausts my energy and drains my resources. hmmm... sounds familiar. Just as the blood in me must slow down endure these new obstacles, so do I. I'm thinking I might have to take a lesson from my blood and learn to go with the flow.

learning to let go...

2010-01-07T11:29:00.000-08:00

The concept of Aparigraha is a difficult one for me—and one lesson that the Universe has repeatedly tried to teach me in this life. My struggle is not with attachment to material possessions. Though I was raised in affluence, my mother’s puritan New England values taught us to value people above things and to recognize the simplest riches in life- love, nature, curiosity, imagination…

It is in my relationship to others and my struggle to control that which is out of my hands that I find Aparigraha particularly hard to grasp (pun intended). Indeed, it may be one of the root causes of my anxiety. I have learned in the last few years (basically because the Universe had to bluntly show me!) how to greater appreciate Aparigraha in regards to letting go of my attempts to control my life. Two great lessons stand out to me.

The first lesson came with the birth of my two children. With my son, I was so focused on having the ‘ideal’ birth. This meant drug free and as close to a home birth as I could get in a hospital (I had to be there because of my heart condition). I also tried to control when he would arrive. By 38 weeks, I was trying everything to encourage him to come out- hikes, caster oil, evening primrose oil…you name the old wives’ tale and I had tried it. Finally, I had done enough and had my dilation checked enough that I basically induced my own labor before he was ready. My water broke and I was not in labor. The doctors induced me and I labored for 12 hours on Pitocin before finally giving in to a light epidural. Seamus was born 45 minutes later. As I cradled my perfect little boy, I could not help but feel a twinge of disappointment that I had forced things to the point of having a managed birth.

With Emelie, I was determined to allow her to come in her own time. She was due on the 8th of January (1-08!). The day came and went. My mother and sister flew in to town and walked and massaged me. They left days later with no new baby. My doula came over and did a fear release- still no baby. I finally realized I had not let go of her ‘due date’- this arbitrary date that the baby could arrive two weeks before or two weeks after. She was her own soul who would do things on her own time (a lesson my son’s growth and development had taught me). When we went to bed the night of the 17th, I looked at my husband and actually told him I was fine if I didn’t go in to labor that night because it would just be a lot of stress with Seamus. The next morning I woke with contractions. I checked email, took a nice bath (shaved my legs!), and played with Seamus. When I finally couldn’t walk or talk through a contraction we went to the hospital. We met my doula there and found I was 7 cm. I caught Emelie Anne as she left my body two hours later after a drug free birth (1/18/08). When I let go and let her come when she was meant to I was able to relax and enjoy what was meant to be.

Yet even with the lessons taught to me through the births of my children, when it comes to my loved ones I struggle with Aparigraha. Clearly, I am highly bonded to the people in my life. I even practice a model of parenting called “attachment parenting.” I have great fears about dreadful things happening to them. Working towards letting go of those fears and having faith in the Universe has helped me reduce anxiety. Yet, the concept of Aparigraha still alludes and confuses me—I am an attached person.

The second lesson took a bit longer for me to learn. When I had to stop dancing, I was lost for a very long time. I searched and yearned to fill the void with every little idea that came along. I resisted the change out of fear. If I didn’t dance, who was I? I had to let go of identifying who I was with what I did and discover that Kristie is not just someone who dances.

My road became varied and bumpy. Of course, those 8 years of wandering along my path were not for nothing. I was forced to fill the void by trying all sorts of lovely things. In this way, I discovered I had so much more to offer-- so much more to be than ‘just’ dancer. I discovered qualities about myself I never knew existed because I was so myopic about dance.

It was not until my therapist suggested that I not try to hold on to the dancer identity and just be open to what comes my way that I felt the call to teach Yoga. Once I listened to that call, I found peace. The bitterness that I felt towards my body, my career, my life…it all dissipated. The space that was left was then able to be filled with understanding, perspective, and appreciation for the time I did have and the level of professionalism I was able to experience. I realized that what was fulfilling for me in dance could all be developed in Yoga. I don’t need to dance to find playfulness in moving my body or joy in cooperating with others to understand movement. The anger and disappointment I had always felt towards my physical being was gone because in Yoga, it is still strong and able. Additionally, I found benefits that were not present in dance: instead of working in a world that is highly competitive and superficial, I can foster a career based on collaboration, depth, and respect for those in my field. All these gifts came only when I let go of Kristie the Dancer.

Working towards Aparigraha appears to be one of the great lessons of this lifetime for me. Each time I practice, I learn to let go of trying to grasp what the practice should be and simply let it be. As time goes by this becomes easier in practice and that ease seems to bleed in to my daily life. I may never fully understand this Yama in this life. For now, though, I’ll just keep on practicing.

an obstacle to practice

2010-01-04T10:11:00.000-08:00

"In the process of identification, powerful obstacles arise."-- Yoga Darshana

I had two surgeries in November. Needless to say, this has put a bit of a damper on my asana practice. In Yoga, the obstacle of illness or sickness is called Vyadhi. This obstacle, however, has given me new opportunity for growth. Vyadhi reminds me to stay in the present and accept where my practice has to be at the moment. There will be times when my asana practice will be strong and regular because my health is good. There will also be times when the other aspects of yoga need to take precedence because my physical limitations do not allow me to practice asanas, or perhaps just specific asanas. These times become an opportunity to maintain presence in my body while focusing more on the other 7 limbs of Yoga. Even while laying on my bed, I can practice asana in my mind, recite Mantras, and lay in meditation. I can practice jnana yoga--the Yoga of knowledge-- by reading sacred texts.

When I feel up to it, I am given the chance to continue the presence of my body through slowly moving in to asana practice... starting with restoratives, and gradually increasing my strength using props. What a great way to maintain focus on how my beginning students might feel!

What I love about Yoga is that the Mat meets you where you are. Where you are can change from day to day-- even moment to moment! The challenge of the asana practice then becomes working to accept what you can do right now. It is not focusing on what you could do or what you will do... you just do what you can now and you don't HAVE to be or do anything more.

The more I practice yoga, the more I realize just why we call it "practice." You practice on the mat what you need to practice in life. The practice of Yoga reminds me that it is ok to just be where I am...feel what I feel. I don't have to be brave or strong, even when others say that I am. I have learned through this that the real bravery is being present with all that arises, even when unpleasant. In receiving my heart condition, I was offered an opportunity to practice my humanity and acknowledge I do not have to be anything but what I am right here and now. My lesson in 2009 was that in being brave enough to be present, the acceptance of being gives birth to strength....to wisdom...to peace... to trust...to truth.

here goes...

2010-01-03T18:39:00.000-08:00

My mother always suggested to her three children that we journal. In her mind, it would help us to view our world more clearly and realize our intentions. In yoga, we create intention so that as vibrational beings, they will come back to us.

As a yoga student, instructor, and stay at home mom it is always my intention to "live my yoga." This term that is often tossed around is quite meaningful to me. It means that I intend to incorporate the yamas and niyamas-- the ethical precepts of yoga-- in to my daily life... To practice in life what I practice on my mat.

So here goes... my journal of intention and my journey of living my yoga. Enjoy!