Happy November!!!

Hey friends!

Since I don't yet have an actual website (I'm working on it!), I wanted to offer my upcoming yoga-schedule in blog form. Below is a listing of classes I'll be leading in Nov/Dec 2014 (check back frequently for updates!!). I've got some bonus classes too (series and subbing!) to help us cozy into Autumn and early Winter! 

I also want to offer a tremendous ~ *Thank you!* ~ to the Asheville Community Yoga Center for naming me the November Teacher of the Month!!!  It's hard to believe that it was only a year ago that I began teaching again after a year-long hiatus. I clearly remember that feeling of 'coming home' while leading my first class at Black Mountain Yoga, and here I am now, fully immersed in this wonderful community. Thank you to the teachers, staff and students for receiving me so warmly and for welcoming me into your lives! I'll hope to see you on the mat soon ... and don't forget, if studio classes aren't your thing, I'm happy to offer private sessions! Just email me for details!

Regularly Scheduled Classes: 

      Black Mountain Yoga Center (BMYC) 

      Mondays: 5:30—6:30pm, Mindful Flow 

      Saturdays: 11:00am—12:30pm, Yoga for Everyone*

(*Shared class w/ Martia, I lead every other Saturday)

      Asheville Donation Yoga Studio (ADYS)

      Fridays: 1:30—3:00pm, Deep Peace Flow 

      Asheville Community Yoga Center (ACYC) 

      Saturdays: 8:30—9:45am, Vinyasa Flow Level 1&2

Classes I’m Subbing: 

      Tue, Nov 4, 12:00—1:00pm: Vinyasa Flow, ADYS

      Mon, Nov 10, 10:00—11:15am: Restorative Yoga, ADYS

      Mon, Nov 17, 10:00—11:15am: Restorative Yoga, ADYS 

      Thur, Dec 4, 5:30—6:30pm: Gentle/Restorative, BMYC

Series/Workshops:

      Sunday, Nov 2, 2014: 1:00pm—3:00pm, Embracing Autumn @ BMYC 

      Thursday, Nov 6, 2014: 6:00–7:30pm, Harvesting the Quiet @ ACYC

Both of these special classes integrate deep stretch, gentle and restorative yoga followed by a guided meditation to take us into a blissful Savasana!

Lost and Found

It seems that all around me, the lives of my friends and family are falling apart. Not everyone of course. But of those that are falling, many are falling hard.  Hearts are being broken in every figurative and literal sense one can imagine.

I never really know what to say to you in times like these. Sometimes there are no words, but it can be awkward to call someone and say nothing. So then I speak and try not to sound like I'm silver-lining you, but I'm not sure that always works. Sometimes I wish I could offer some insight about "God’s Plan," but I don't know that plans are ever solid.  And what God are we talking about anyway? It seems a moot point. 

But I do sit here. 

And I think of you. 

I send you my love a thousand times over. I send you peace.

Some would say this sitting and sending is like that of a prayer, and perhaps it is. I direct my heart and thoughts to you. I offer you all my wishes, for why not wish? If we can dream, so they say, our wildest ones can come true.

What I know and learn and forget—and then know and learn and forget again—is that one-day, somehow, it will be OK.

Or not.

But then that would be OK too. (Really.) 

We can never know how or when the fog will lift or when the day of OK will come. And when it does, it may look very different from what we envision OK to be today. So it's really no matter if things will be OK or not. Because today, the only place we can be is in it. Here.

I’ll be here with you if you’d like.

Whatever you feel, I would do with you. 

  

My (midwifery) teacher, so wise and knowing, said once, “Don’t ever be afraid to be lost. Being lost is the only way you'll learn how to be found.”

I take that to heart and come back to it often.

I suppose, what I offer is this. Please don't confuse it with advice. I have no investment in you "taking it." They're just thoughts. And since you helped to prompt them, I wanted to share them with you. 

Release your need to be composed. Cry. Fall down. Die a little. 

Let go of anything that tells you there is a right way to do this.

Break things. Wander off into madness. 

Making sense of it will not help, because some things have no sense. They only are. I know this is no consolation.  But at some point, our thinking minds must rest. Release the need to organize it all into sense. After all, there are so many other sources of wisdom to behold.

Let go. 

Into what? 

Whatever comes. 

Our emotions are not meant to be managed, they are messengers of light. Our bodies contain wisdom, they are temples in which to explore the stars and heavens. We often turn to our brain to answer our questions and describe what we know. But there is more out there for you. Information is in the skies, the trees, our bones, in heartbreak, love, a hug, spirit and death. 

If someone asked you to shed your skin and transform your world as you know it using words of logic or reason, would you do it? Would you change everything, shed everything, let it all go and start over? Probably not.

Sometimes, I think we have to be destroyed and torn down in order to heal and transform, otherwise we'd say "no thank you" and stay stagnant forever. Sometimes there is no other way. We have to engage with the despair. If we turn away from it, we risk missing out on the greatest secrets life has to offer. And so the world brings us to our knees. This is the journey to freedom. One day, when we reach the other side of the rainbow, we will shake our heads and laugh and say, “ah-ha!” But until we are there, there is only one thing left to do. 

Trust.

Flames. Death. Ash. 

And the phoenix is reborn.

One-day, when it is time it will fly. 

Soar! 

Time is yours. Love is yours. You are yours. Trust is yours.

Take them. Take these things. 

And in the meantime, I will sit. 

And I will think of you.

I will send you love a thousand times over. And I will send you peace. 

I will trust for you when you cannot.

Writer's Block. Ish.

Several months ago, I made a commitment to myself to begin writing regularly, with the intent of posting one blog per week. Most weeks I’ve accomplished this, and I've even gained some reader support along the way. The encouragement has inspired me to write in a slightly different way, as this space has begun to feel more like a shared community experience than just a writing space. That's helped my excitement skyrocket, and I've been eager to post more. But this begs quite an important question…. If I’m so excited about writing, then why is it that for the last three weeks, I haven’t been able to write anything that feels worthy of sharing? 

My initial thought was that maybe I had developed some sort of performance anxiety:  “Oh no! People are reading, and they expect perfection! I can now only share posts composed of perfect brilliance!” But that’s not it (I’m not that insecure or egocentric anymore).

My second thought was that I’d developed writer’s block, which seemed more reasonable. I’ve sat down to write several times—with good ideas even!—but haven’t written much I'd like to post. Still, the ideas have been coming, I've just kept what I've written to myself.

So I sat a while, perplexed.  (*quiet hum of the Jeopardy jingle*)

I think I may have figured it out.

This all began with a goal about writing again (check!) which turned into a pleasant surprise of people actually reading what I have to say (extra check!).  I think this combo has led me to think through more thoroughly what I want to post. And what I’m realizing is that 1) in writing publicly I feel inclined to actually have something worthwhile to say and 2) I don’t always actually have anything worthwhile to say.

So. Time to reevaluate my writing goals. In opting for quality over quantity, I’m shifting my goal about weekly posts to a goal about writing regular posts that contain substance. In the end, the original goal matters less than the quality of my overall journey—for if and when I reach my goals, what will I be carrying with me upon arrival?  

Achieving goals aren’t necessarily about outcomes. It’s just as important to examine your process of facing—or resisting—discipline, commitment, self-care and other ongoing practices. Whether it’s yoga, writing, arts or relationship issues, it’s the quality of our practice that truly indicates where we’re headed. The finish line is secondary. 

In honor of goals, practices and wanting to become a stronger writer, I’m offering this post to you (and me) as a message of truth about struggling to write as consistently as I’d like. I’m also offering it as a gesture of appreciation for supporting me on this journey, and to let you know that though I may not be posting weekly, I'm unwilling to spew out a bunch of crap to publish when I'm not feeling it. Finding my voice as a writer, building this community, and achieving my writing goals are less about simply writing, and more about how I show up. The longer I'm here, the more I realize that I have to write genuinely in order for it to read well. When I'm forcing it, my work comes out like some bad self-help grocery store booklet. I'm not suggesting that those booklets are all bad--it's just not who I want to be as a writer. It's not the direction I'm looking to grow.

So. Even when I'm not as "regular" as I'd like to be, I thank you for hangin' in there with me. Know that when I have prolonged stints of non-posting, I’m still at the computer trying. Sometimes, that’s just all I’ve got. 

Fake it 'till you make it

Today I am on a short leash.

I’d only been awake for two hours when my ego decided to confront me. It was 9:30am, and she was bruised, and sulking pitifully in the corner. By 9:35am the insecurities had set in, and my daily practice of living mindfully had flown out the window. I was again reminded of how strong a fighter that ego is. My subconscious mind is her training ground—and I must say, she’s got several gold belt wins to show off.

By 9:40am, she was holding me by the horns and I was following her into that alluring trap of wallowing and self-doubt. My monkey mind was racing in a slew of directions, and by the time I stopped remembered to pause and take a breath, I was already wondering what the rest of the day would bring, whether my life would ever balance out, and how I was going to escape my current situation. The unraveling had begun, and I found myself asking, “What am I doing here? Why am I so stuck? How do I get out of this? Is anything ever going to change?"

And that’s when I realized what I had to do for the day. The motto popped into my head so quickly it was as if it arose from somewhere else: “Fake it 'till you make it.”

I know. A motto with the word “fake” doesn’t exactly infer a shift into an honest and mindful practice for a yogi. But hear me out, friends. 

Sometimes we have to say things several times (maybe thousands?) in order to believe them. It’s like repeating a mantra or stating an affirmation based on ideas we’re working to manifest, but have yet to come to fruition. It's called practice. Say the affirmation long enough, and one day you turn a corner only to realize that it’s now a part of you. It becomes real for you, authentically yours. And often times, it's at that point that you realize that you no loner need that affirmation. 

So today, my fake-it-'till-you-make-it approach was my affirmation. At work, I was feeling slighted and insignificant, which turned into insecurity and self-doubt. No one actually made me feel this way, and the emotions I was cycling through were hardly unfamiliar. So rather than fight and resist my feelings, I chose to own them. I acknowledged that my own shit had been stirred up that morning and that I had to decide how to proceed with my day. In the pause of that acknowledgement, my "fake it 'till you make it" motto popped up loud and clear, and I decided to go for it. Outside of my own mind, the day around me was flowing positively and people seemed to be in good moods. I wanted a part of that (though wallowing still remained an attractive option). And in a twist of irony, my fake-it-till-you-make-it attitude was not about me faking it at all--it was about me getting really honest with myself. I could have been a grump, taken my stuff out on the people around me and wallowed in a terrible mood for hours, but that’s not who I want to be. So I made the harder choice.

 

As an aside, I want to discern this fake-it-till-you-make-it approach as a context specific practice. I’m not advocating it as a daily practice for people who continually ignore their emotions, have trouble speaking up or avoid confrontation at all costs. That's the opposite of being honest and facing what you may need for growth. But in the context I'm presenting here, it was best for me and everyone around me.

The good news is that ultimately, my ego quieted and I was able to make it through the day without too much trouble. Even better, within an hour or so I'd let most of the anger and frustration go and was having a pretty good day with my coworkers. I opted to make a positive shift by choosing positive reactions to my situation. And though it felt forced at first, it was reciprocated: the universe offered me a totally fine and uneventful day. I got my work done, I learned some new things and made some progress on a few projects I'd been needing to start.

Don’t ever doubt that a short leash or bruised ego is an opportunity to choose your next step. Sometimes it’s a blessing in a terribly tattered and inconvenient disguise, but that’s the beauty of the practice. You just get to do it over and over. And eventually, sometimes, you get it right.

Standing Tall....

{Breathing in… Puffing chest…Standing tall…}

I am. Becoming. A midwife.

{Nervous twitch.}

That was harder to write than you think. I’ve been holding that close to my chest for many months. Some of you know. But now. More of you will know.

Some of you will think “Yay! This is perfect!” and others of you will say, “Really? I had no idea you were interested in that.” Some of you will think varying degrees of these, and you’ll all be correct.

And please, if it’s OK by you, I’d prefer you not attach “midwife” to my identity quite yet. Today, I’m simply embarking upon a journey, an exploration. Like learning to play the piano.

Except. It’s not a piano at all.  

{Breathing in…}

I’ve been a university instructor and feminist/queer/sociology scholar. I’ve been an abortion care (and thus, family, relationship, parenting and religious) counselor.  I am a yoga and meditation teacher. I am an intellectual. I am a spirit. I am a body. I am, through and through, an advocate. I live to empower others.

I’m intrigued and mystified by the human experience: I cannot understand it, and yet at the same time, it seems to be the only thing I really know. 

How could it not have been that I’d end up drawn to stand at the gates of life and death?

Of course I am here.

{Puffing chest…}

I began my quantum/holistic midwifery training this week. It’s an exploration of life, death, altered states, bodies, humanity, Spirit and nature. On our first day, within two hours, we had laid the groundwork for our upcoming journey, including: models of healthcare, gender, ideas/ideology, spirituality, power systems, intuition/trust, anatomy/physiology, earth/nature, herbal/medicinal remedies, life, death, history, connection, co-creation….

Yes, yes, of course I am here.

I don’t know where the journey will take me, but I’m overwhelmingly excited to find out. It’s complex and overwhelming, and utterly surreal. In the midst of all of the learning and feeling and thinking and knowing—I feel completely at ease. My energy is totally neutral—a state of grace, if you will. All is right with the world.

And now more of you know.

And since more of you know, I know there will be more a ton of questions that I cannot yet answer. That said, to humor you, I offer this:  

My first training runs from now until September.

No, this is not through a university, nor will I be going “back to school.”

Yes, this is real training.

If/when I “practice” my intention is to practice as an independent (homebirth based) midwife.

Yes, that is scary.

No, it’s not crazy.

Yes, I am learning what to do for the what-if’s (that’s part of the training).

No, I don’t think hospital birth is “bad.”

Yes, I will learn herbal medicine and homeopathy.

No, I don’t think Western medicine is “bad.”

Yes, I’m studying an old wise woman tradition.

No, that’s not romanticized. It just is.

{Standing tall…}

In all my years of academics, yoga, abortion care and more, I have learned a lot. Most of all, I’ve learned that we already contain most of the answers we’re seeking—we just often need help in gathering our courage and wit in order to speak them. We are survivors. When empowered to live from our gut, when armed with a body of knowledge—and when we truly trust ourselves—anything is possible. Anything.

There is much to be improved upon in our culture with regards to choices, bodies, life and death, and many of my years have been spent working to make those things better. I believe in the possibility of change through fostering truth, awareness and compassion. My journey into midwifery feels (right now) a way to continue my life’s work, while enhancing my spirit and broadening my potential for human connection. Through this, I hope to continue learning and feeding that insatiable quest I have to understand, create change, love, and let go.

Through and through, I am an advocate. I believe, and I trust. I can hold a room, I can hold a heart, I can hold a soul. I can “go there.”  And through midwifery—should the stars continue to align in this direction—I would be beyond honored to continue to hold, advocate and “go there” with those who chose to birth at home. To continue to make others’ choices and truths realities.

I believe that we’re always in the right place at the right time. That I know in my bones. This is not the first time I’ve danced with midwifery, been an advocate or teacher. This knowing is far older than this life. Embracing that is scary, freeing and exhilarating.

I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, I’ll be studying, loving, painting, laughing, learning and growing. But I’ll be around. Come find me in a yoga class (starting in February I’ll be teaching more!) or give me a call. And thanks for reading. It’s not always easy to say what’s in our hearts. But your support and willingness to “hear” me makes posting here easier and less scary. I appreciate that so much. I appreciate you.

L’chaim!