Wahe Guru

Something happened to me today. And it was wonderful.

Ten days ago I made a committment to practice yoga for 21 days. Every day. The decision was prompted by a Yoga Journal article from January of this year. I skimmed it and realized I needed to do this. And so I embarked on daily yoga practice. I did not think it would be such a big deal. I usually take 3 or 4 classes a week, have practiced in some form since I was about 10.



I was so wrong.

I am in Day 10 and something happened to me today that has not happened in a very long time.



I finished my asana practice and settled in to savasana, relaxing into meditation state. I was listening to a beautiful piece called Wahe Guru by Mantra Girl. And then I felt it. You can call it prana or qi or Life force but it began to resonate in my hands, my hands open at my sides as I lay supine. It built, the heat and life. I felt it and tentatively invited it in and then it moved slowly, waves of it up through my wrists and then through the crook of my slightly bent elbows, up through my biceps and the hollow of my armpit and the waves from each arm met and crested and enveloped my heart, pulsing with more than beats now.

I was weeping, completely present and completely overwhelmed. And I felt a connection that I have not felt in many many years. A connection to everything, and then to Nothing. The song faded out and I slowly came to sitting and gratefully curled forward, bowing namaste to the trees framed by the window in the room where I was practicing.



I came out to my boys, usually so animated, quietly playing with legos. Tim was on an errand and I just sat with them, letting the experience settle into me, expecting it to go. And yet it stayed, has stayed, I can feel it this minute while I type.

I looked up the Sanskrit translation of Wahe Guru, it means 'Wonderful Teacher', interpreted sometimes as god. I realize I want to feel that way everyday, every moment but there is also the realization that I am not sure I could remain that open and function. I am glad to know where to find it again, to fill the well.



Getting on the mat daily, practicing the asanas I love and also the ones I hate has shifted something inside of me. It is making me a diffrent person. I feel both frightened and encouraged by this as I feel it strip away and strengthen the core, not just the physical one but also the one that lies at the very heart of my Self.

Daily yoga is directly changing my life right now. A part of me is astonished that it took me so long to find this shift. Another part wants to learn Sanskrit. And another is just so grateful for those moments today.

From the Road :: V

In many ways this trip has been about movement. We have constantly been on the move, picking up and packing up every four or five days to seek North. We have now reached the apex of our trip and will head South from here on out.


In many ways the time has been about actual movement of my body too. It started with the West African dance class I took with my sister in L.A. Then I took a kick ass step class, my first in over five years while in Arcata. In Portland I had the chance to attend a class at Conduit with Tere, a teacher of my past. My heart filled when she remembered me even though it has been over 7 years since I attended that class. And at the end she graced me with a smile and nod and the positive affirmation that I can still do this.

And now here in Whistler, I have discovered a gem. Neoalpine is the first real yoga studio class I have ever taken and it is so good that it makes me want to cry.

We opened class yesterday with a chant, a powerful heart opening mantra and I almost dissolved onto my mat. There is something so amazing about voices singing out, echoing and bouncing to strike you at the core. It is not something yoga class at L.A. Fitness gym would support...too open, too much. But last night, wrung from end to end, muscles screaming from the now tightness and then loosening, we closed in Corpse with a whisper chant. I felt transported in a way I have not since the time I was bed bound and pregnant and would go into deep guided meditation there in my own bed.




All this movement has brought home an essential fact about myself.....I am a dancer. I have been imprinted in this way since birth almost. I am most happy dancing through life, letting movement flow from core to tip and letting sweat course off my body as my face gets red from the effort. It has sealed the deal for me.

Before we left on this trip, I came to the realization that I need more in my Life that focuses specifically on moving. I have my yoga practice that has deepened in the last year, but I want more. And last night and today in class I realized that I will go on to become a Yoga teacher, go into a program sometime in the next year.

I know the movement and words and principles of yoga well but it was the chanting that gives me the thrill of challenge down my spine. I want to be able to stand in class someday and lead us all through a chant, let the quiet voice in my heart sing out in a strangely foreign fluent sound that calls all to resonate in their Self.

The greatest of compliments last night came to me when the teacher gently touched my arm in class and asked me if I am a yoga teacher. I was a little shocked and a whole lot flattered, but I also heard the message the Universe was sending. I am ready, Universe.

I have two more days of class up here, two more days to revel in the gentle and strenuous, the heart filling and magical. It is the blessing of this trip...the movement. And it makes all well in my slightly askew world.

If you West African in L.A., please check out Mareme's class at Lula Washington.
If you dance in Portland, check out Tere's class on Tuesdays at Conduit.
If you yoga in Whistler, please visit Neoalpine especially the Thursday night Boom Shakti flow.

If you want to move more, then please do so. Open your heart, find a mantra and go. Go, my friends.

Yoga and Motherhood

I know Mother's Day is somewhat arbitrarily declared and I do believe we should appreciate and embrace Mamahood on any given day. Having said that, initially I wanted to mark the day with a brunch celebrating the mothers in my life, a gathering at home with good food and good friends. I quickly scratched that idea once I realized that I did not want to be cleaning up the house for company the day before, especially as we have climbed into a state of disarray as we try to pack.

Then the loveliest of things came my way. I received an email from my yoga instructor about a planned gathering on Sunday...a classmate wanted to bring the yoga people together and sent out an open invite. My first reactions was, Huh? Who is this guy? I have been practicing for at least three years with the same folks but do not know many by name, just by sight... But then I took a moment to think about it and I realized I wanted to know these people more. Not to mention the Indian theme dinner would allow for me to make my favorite (not really) Indian dish of Tikki Masala (do not follow the salt measures, waaay too much). So, I said yes.

Yesterday rolled around and I had a lovely brekky of coffee and breakfast burritos from Bravo Burgers (killer good), then went to a long yoga class, met Andrew the host by name (turns out he is from Perth, a place not many have been, but that I actually have) and returned home to two raging three year olds and a dutch oven to fill with tikki goodness. We set out to the neighboring town a little after 3 and were welcomed into a home that borders the canyon and had a hugely sprawling backyard FULL of animals. Andrew has a little farm in the back of his regular looking suburban home :: goats and mini horses, big horses and chickens, rabbits, desert turtles, ducks and geese and alpaca.



(They do not look all that thrilled here but they were warming up).

The boys were in heaven as we wandered about the property finding animals to meet. And I finally MET the people that I regularly practice with.

They were all really lovely people and we talked and ate and did yoga on the lawn with kids rolling around our feet. I met the grandchildren of my yoga instructor, two rowdy but awesome boys named Jake and Dirk (8 and 6) and they turned into total twin boy monitors, guiding my boys up and down the steep inclines (right through the manure pile EVERYTIME) and teaching them how to gently catch chickens. Everyone was so gracious and connected...it made me realize how much we know each other just by the intimacy of regular practice, but the filling in of the gaps was wonderful.

It turned out to be just what I have needed, a reconnection to the concrete world, an opening to what is already there in front of me. A possibility for more kinship and deeper practice. I have felt so engaged in Life lately and that feels really really good.

Yesterday was a reminder to take that chance, accept that invite, extend that invite, embrace that not so strange stranger.

But don't think I missed out on Mama's day. I saw a tweet from Andrea at Superhero Journal about select necklaces for sale and the boys helped me pick (finally) and it came just in time. I find it hard to take off.


And then I received the most wonderful of packages from my friend Kat (also Australian, how about them Aussies?) chcck full of goodness including choc choc.


I do hope you found your day special whether you are the Mama or honouring the Mama. Much love and namaste. I'll leave you with one of my favorite moments in my Mama world...

Toddler Taming

A few days ago I started some thing new with the boys. I talked about sleep a few posts ago, these days it is a rare morning that we wake alone. Often one or the other will crawl into bed with us around the four a.m. witching hour and we end up just letting them stay. It seems to help them sleep past 6:30 which helps Tim and I sleep past 6:30 which is a first in all the years that we have had these particular children.

Anyway, a few days ago in my yoga class our instructor introduced a new component. She started by telling us to self massage our hamstrings and then calves while we were folded into forward bend. Then the top of the feet (ahhhh...) then the shins and the knees, the thighs up to the belly and heart. I was amazed how the simple act of touch, the gentle rubbing on each part gave instant relief and unleashed a kind of joy. This realization was powerful and a bit ironic as I am a physical therapist trained in massage. It was a huge reminder about the power of directed touch, even when the gentle touch is directed at oneself.

It has me thinking about the boys and their recent troubles. Lately our household has been all sickness, and then when that takes a backseat all tantrums and whining. It has reached an unbelievably difficult impasse, where Tim and I are short and harried and exhausted and mad. So easy to get mad in the face of the seemingly incessant demands and seemingly unreasonable behavior, doubled in our case.


(Lip courtesy of O and an accidental bat to face. Hopefully accidental).

It had me thinking about the stages they are going through, where a certain level of autonomy has been reached. No longer are they cuddled over shoulder as the norm, rather they walk with their hands in our and their bodies self propelled. No longer hand fed, no longer hand washed....so many of those early touch opportunities fall away in the progression towards growth. Don't get me wrong, they receive as much hug and cuddle as they wish for, it is just that they do not wish for that very often. More often than not they lock us out of their room in fits of rage and fury.

So, now we have these precious hours while their sleepy bodies curl up in comfort and companionship and I really really like it. Not changing anything in that way. I like to think of it as practice for the Vanagon months ahead. But the thing I started doing in the early morning when one wakes up and is coming out of sleep is giving them a gentle massage similar to the one we started in class.

I love that they just lay there, sleepy and welcoming the day. I can see the relief melt over them, and I can feel the touch healing some of the challenge and struggle that must be part of the becoming of a person. And I am finding it heals that part of me that struggles with 'losing' my little ones.



It is easy to think we are giving them enough touch, but throughout the day the opportunities have waned. Busy as they are, Tim and I being in different places throughout the week, and the multiple demands of schedules and dinner and occasional housework, and Bam! when was the last time we sat down with focus and direction of affection.

I came across and very interesting post and it linked to this book. Now, I have yet to read it, but was caught by the description as follows ::

From Publishers Weekly
In an attempt to reclaim the primal intimacy of the parent-child bond from dogmatists who see close physical affection as suspect or indecent, Oxenhandler (A Grief Out of Season) argues that parental love is inherently erotic. Despite her flamboyant terminology, what Oxenhandler means is that the parent-child bond can have the same physical and emotional intensity as a bond between lovers. There is, she points out, some scientific basis for this magnetism. The chemical oxytocin "controls a woman's pleasure during orgasm, childbirth, cuddling and nursing." Meanwhile, a child's "irresistibleness" in infancy is also a mechanism for survival. But Oxenhandler soon leaves science behind in favor of addressing the different "erotic" feelings a parent may experience. Throughout, she stresses the importance of "attunement," a process by which parents modify their physical affection as their children grow older--after all, the same caresses one showers on a baby are hardly appropriate for an adolescent. While the subtitle suggests an evenhanded treatment of the "light" and "dark" aspects of the parent-child relationship, Oxenhandler is much more skillful at presenting its sunnier side. She admits she has little experience in dealing with victims of child abuse, incest or pedophilia, and her attitude toward these issues may strike some readers as dismissive and uninformed. (In one chapter she suggests that adults use "playfulness" as an alternative to slipping into forbidden territory, though that seems an unlikely remedy to true pedophilic impulses.) Despite the flaws in her argument, many parents will find some comfort in this beautifully written book, which reassures them about the pleasure they may find in their child's natural curiosity and unconscious sexuality.

Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.

I first found the author via Mondo Beyondo and have her second book on order from the Library (you do order your books from the Library, don't you? Free, people, free). And I am not sure the book will add much to my belief in touch and the importance it holds as we raise healthy and attuned young people. (And the Library does not have it yet, so I can't get it for free. Free, people).

I am glad for the reminder I received in that class. That I have a tool to go to when I am feeling stressed out, that I have a tool to offer them when they are. Has it stopped the craziness? Hell no. But does it help. Anyway, I believe it does.

Body Betrayal?

Some days I feel like my body is betraying me. Over my life I have had bilateral dislocated shoulders, over stretched hip ligaments, a broken talus, I was en pointe for 6 years and on a punishing gymnastic schedule for quite a few years in my youth. I have deep aching in my feet when they hit the ground in the morning, there are days when my back makes me want to scream and I carry a fun little c-section tummy that still does not have full sensation restored and gets in the way all the time. As a physical therapist, I know too much about where these things might lead me as I grow older inside this body.

I do yoga three times a week right now. I started yoga at 10 when my father deemed that we as a family would wake at 5 a.m. and practice the routines from this book in the semi-dawn light. We groaned and bitched but he laid a foundation for me, the foundation of life long health. I no longer dance en pointe, no longer can do a back flip, no longer have the luxury of accessing modern dance classes always based in L.A. But I can still practice yoga.


I practice yoga to heal, I practice to challenge, I practice for both internal and external strength.

It is a struggle sometimes to make myself go, the Tuesday and Thursday classes are later in the evening, post bed time routine. But for this year, I have made the commitment to be committed when I am there.

I get really discouraged sometimes. I practice in a level 2/3 class, the same instructor for four years. I watch as she advances in her practice and sometimes I feel so stagnant. I see the girl next to me that weighs 100# soaking wet flow through class. I watch my bendy advanced neighbors with a combination of envy and awe. I know I am not supposed to, but whatever, I am human. Some of them achieve every position, every arm balance, every bind, as I struggle to wrap arms, clasp hands, ignore folds of skin preventing full bends. I know it is not yoga mind, but sometimes I just want to cry. I slip into the mind set that I cannot improve inside this body that I have.

I think I know why my practice stalled. It is because I did. I have made other things more important than the time I am spending there. I allot the time reluctantly, gauging the moments until class ends, leaving a bit early to reclaim non-yoga time. But I want to tell myself, no more. I will be present and whole for class, otherwise, what exactly is the point?

My body is so very different now, so much less accessible in so many ways. I do not want this to be my relationship with it, I do not want to feel betrayed by it. Part of me feels like I could never take a stage again, present it in any way that others could actually see it. Believe me, this is an ongoing thing with me and my body and I know I am not alone.

I am writing this down to see it in print. A reminder that I need to be a part of it and accept myself, body parts and all. And that yoga can be a wonderful path to get there and that it really won’t kill me if I can never fully achieve Marichyasana. Well, it won’t kill me, but I think I do have to make a goal to lose enough weight to get back to that pose.


And to give myself maybe a bit more kindness and acceptance for the things I can do. Like bend.


I started taking a few self portraits in yoga positions and I am finding it a really good practice. It helps me to 'see' where my body is in the poses, sometimes it is very different than I 'feel' in the poses. I am thinking I will take pictures regularly to remind and record my progress (or lack there of) in the next few months. Maybe not in Chucks and jeans from now on....a little limiting to flexibility.