a little story

So here is a little yoga-ish tale that I have been sitting on since the fall.  Yoga-ish because it is mostly about listening and trust and self-respect, which I suppose is always the case and maybe doesn't need mentioning.  

Anyhoo...

I took a break last year from all travel for yoga study.  For a bunch of reasons.  In part because I was tired and each time that I had recently travelled to study I had wished I were home.  Also, our finances demanded I stay put and work more.  And it was great.  It was totally the right choice for me and there was enough interest for me locally that I felt mostly content.  So when the opportunity came up for me to study locally for a week with my friends Scott Lamps and Ida Jo, I was thrilled.  It meant not having to leave all of my classes for a stretch of time and it also meant just moderate rearranging of my kids logistics.   (As an aside, besides the cash saved by not getting as many classes subbed, not paying to travel etc... staying home while trying to immerse and study is really not so easy.  I should have known better.  When you are around, even a small amount, you still appear to be available and therefor in demand which is entirely counterproductive to the whole endeavor.  Can you please make me a sandwich and by the way we have no food in the house and can you please get that kid to a swim meet and then oh yeah the other one has a soccer game and and and.... you get the idea.)

Other than the (now) obvious obstacles, the week was lining up great.  I felt in very good condition and ready to practice deeply and so so so very ready to sit in the seat of the student.  The first 2 days of the intensive went well.  I came up a little bit against a more recent on-going dialogue that I have been having with myself about how much time I want to spend at one stretch in the yoga room.  3 hours is fine.  4, not so much.  8 in one day, well, that is a lot.  Especially when you might need to shuttle a kid or 2 around once you are done- refer above. 

On the morning of day 3, I got my period.  I stayed home and lounged around.  Ate, rested, went on a walk.  I came in for the afternoon session and spent the first 45 minutes of practice thinking to myself what a completely bad idea it was to be there and that I really should be taking it easy.  And then all of the sudden a switch flipped.  Suddenly I was going deeper into postures than I had in well over a year and with relative ease and grace.  But deep.  DEEP.  We practiced this way for about 3 hours and then sat for about 45 minutes of pranayama practice at which point I was pretty much a giant nerve ending and was possibly accessing some seriously transcendent telepathy.  I was HIGH. Freakin blitzed.  

After this level of output, my period stopped.  On day 1.  In its tracks.  I went home, rested, got up the next morning thinking that it would help to go back and just take it easy and work through it. Yeah, right.  Even the simplest shapes and movements made me feel like my back and my knees were going to blow.  At the end of the day I limped to my car, drove home, and then didn't get out of bed for 3 days.  I tried in vein to coax my period back.  It took me about a month all told to recover.  And another several cycles to feel like my period was back on track.  Let me be clear.  At no time during that deep practice did I hurt myself.  No tweaks, pulls, strains or anything of the like.  It was simply way too much energetically.  My body simply could not process the intensity of the effort or the stretch. 

Two things are of note here.  The first is that I teach an entire workshop called Yoga in the Red Tent all about how to respectfully practice during your cycle and how best to support your wellness and sense of connection as you bleed.  I know what to do to care for myself.  And I disregarded that wisdom.  Yes, it is a bummer that I got my period during the singular week of practice intensive that I had on deck for an entire year.  But my period doesn't give a shit about my plans or my agenda.  Second, my period has been asking me to tend to it more mindfully for the last few years as my hormone levels shift and change.  I feel very much that it needs my attention and care in order for it to keep sticking around in a vibrant and meaningful way.  And let me tell you, I am not ready for my menses to go.  I would love to spend at least another decade with her and if she needs my help then I am going to heed the call.  

So, was I humbled by this experience?  Um, yeah.  I felt very ashamed that I committed to 8 days of practice and only made it to 3.5.  I felt like I had let down my friends and I came strongly up against the part of myself that is way too concerned with what other people think of me.  I also disregarded myself and what I clearly knew I needed.  There is guilt and shame in there for me as well.  But in both, especially now that so much time has passed, there is a whole lot of forgiveness for myself within the experience.  It is so hard to surrender to nature.  So much of the culture that we live in is about over-riding nature and we are conditioned to believe that that is best- we praise each other for the ways in which we triumph over the natural obstacles presented by the animal of our bodies and the pulse of our environments. 

I am ok with what happened.  How things played out.  I can see now, that so much of the work that I have done over the last half year and the direction that my attention has turned was in many ways born out of this experience.  My relationship to practice has been evolving.  My relationship to my body and my movement and my chemistry has been changing and healing.  I hope to share about that and more soon.  Thanks for reading.

x,m

ghosting my own blog.

Hello.  Gone but not forgotten.  I guess that's it.  For months (um, 7 of them), there is a lot that has been unsaid.  So many things, that I have felt smushed by their weight.  Like a pile of words have been clogging my throat, and in order for any to make it out all, I was going to have to barf up the whole load.  So I've been avoiding.  To say the least.

To say more, it began 2 days after my last post here.  September the 11th.  A Sunday morning.  I was downtown teaching the first of a 3 part alignment series, and when I looked at my phone after class I realized that Chris had been blowing it up.  That morning, our neighbor, after having a lovely morning walk with his wife and their 2 young children in which they visited with other neighbors and shared in the joy of the fine late summer day, dropped dead in his yard.  He was freshly 40.  There was, and continues to be, a lot to say about the loss of him.  We knew him only a little, but enough to know that he would want our family to show up for his as best we possibly can and we have been working to live in to that. 

Then there was the election.  And out of a sense of optimism (denial? naivete?) I was really thinking that I had to just hold it together until November the 8th and then sanity would be restored and life could continue as normal.  Uh, yeah.  Not so as it turns out.  So, that is when I really went dark.  And, even though I couldn't see it for a few months, that is when I started to experience almost unrelenting chest pains.  It wasn't until my family took a short vacation at the end of January and the pain let up as I settled down a bit that I realized that this was panic attack pain and not heart attack pain. 

There is clearly a lot to say.  I have an opinion.  And I have a voice.  And I think I have been coming to terms with the fact that how I feel and what I believe is political.  But it has made me a little more quiet than I care to be as I grow into this new skin of mine.  I have also been quiet here as I sort out my role as a resistance organizer in the state of Wisconsin.  

Spring is here now though.  And I feel the surge of creativity and inspiration welling up within me just as I always do this time of year.  It is time for me, for all of us to plant the seeds of what we want to see take root this year, of what we want to become.  

Other than struggling with my voice, things are very much the same as they ever were for us around here.  Just more.  I continue to joyfully homeschool my kids and hope that this year transitions me into more time at home with them and less out of the house teaching publicly.  I am still teaching and practicing yoga consistently.  And I continue to learn from and be shaped by both.  I am still knitting a ton and nowhere near enough.  Every day I feel more in love with yarn and color and like there isn't possibly enough time in the world for me to make everything I long to make.  I am still studying herbal medicine and looking forward to growing and making more this year.  I am still longing to welcome a third child into our family and am feeling closer to and more at peace with this than I have to date.  Oh my god I've also been going to a local cross fit gym since last fall and have been LOVING it. 

Life is full.  And I am lucky.  And I am mostly ok with my discontent.  And my pain.  And my fear.  Just enough to keep on fighting the good fight and not burning the house down.  If you made it this far, thanks for reading.  I'll be back soon.  Promise.

focus on fun

I guess this is just really on my mind these days as we dive into the fullness of our fall schedule.  Because as much as I really do believe in balance, I also always bring myself right up to my edge in terms of what I can manage.  So, sure, it is a balance.  But it is a precarious one!  Because here is the deal:  when there is a space, I fill it.  And not because I cannot say no.  I am actually quite skilled at saying no and also at prioritizing my own self- interest.  But I also make a practice of saying yes to fun.   Fun.  FUN!   And it is pretty clear that my saying yes to fun and to joy and to the fullness of life experience (especially while my children are still young) is what brings me right up to the edge.  

I know that I am not alone in this.  The tribe of women and mamas that I gather around us are cut from the same cloth.  And I am supported by a man who does not have my same inclination to fill in the gaps and yet loves me and has my back none the less.  

However, there is an important aspect to this way of living life.  I have to continuously check in to and assess my own state.  How am I doing?  Can I sustain this level of activity and stay connected to my heart and also the hearts of my people?  Is this working?  Is it worth it?  Are we all ok?  And I am learning that it is a fluid life.  Often by the time I have adjusted to the current schedule of things, something shifts and it is time to adapt yet again.   My presence is paramount. I have to remember that.  

I was listening to an interview on a couple's counseling podcast that I follow- and while they were talking about the brain in interpersonal conflict and resolution, I found this quote in particular very applicable to what I am going for in general: "Repeatedly internalize experiences in which you are being the way that you want to be" ... so that over time, your "state becomes your trait".  (from and interview by Jason Gaddis with Rick Hanson on the Smart Couple) I love that.  Check in.  Bring your consciousness into your state.  More and more until it becomes your trait.  

....these are 3 new Orpington hens.  I love them.  So gentle, and sweet.  But you can also see the rest of my flock in the background and also our bunny.  It's a backyard barnyard, to be sure.

family reflection

I love having house guests.  It was one of the things that I loved most about our little Viroqua farmette: we could easily accommodate guests.  And while I love the house we are in now with all of my heart, it is smaller and we are bigger and the way in which we fill it doesn't leave much space for house guests.  Especially if they need much privacy.  

Possibly, the thing that I love most about having someone visit and stay awhile, is the way in which it shores up the boundary that exists between my nuclear family and the rest of the world.  It allows me to see in a new way just how distinct we are as well as how fluid and connected we are as a family.  

This summer, for the first time in years, we had an extended houseguest.  Sam, the demo driver.  He slept on our couch and played with our kids and once drank the last cup of coffee before I had had any.  Sam was here when Chris was home and the 2 of them together ran mountain bike demos throughout the midwest for most of August.  They were in and out.  When they were in, that meant not just extra people but also an extra huge van parked out front and countless bikes in various phases of cleaning and maintenance scattered across my lawn amidst the dogs and chickens and children and bunny.  

Sam has known Chris for awhile, but had just met the rest of us when he landed on our couch. Chris is very much not concealed.  He is himself and as such is very much open and honest and available.  He is easy to know, and yet I was curious about whether Sam's perception of Chris had shifted at all after spending so much time in Chris' personal space and close up to all of Chris' people.  So I asked him.  He thought about it for awhile and this is what he said:  that getting to know me and the kids and spend time in our lives and witness Chris' relationship with each of us, just made everything about Chris that much cooler.  

Which was the exact perfect answer.  And is immensely affirming in terms of something that I have really been considering about us as a family.  Chris and I have both done a lot of work with co-dependency, differentiation and autonomy.  We have been together for the greater part of our adult lives at this point and have had our share of (massive) bumps in the road.  We spend a lot of time considering ourselves, our relationship, our family.  But as much as all of our individuating is so very important, there is something so profound for me in considering that the whole of our family is greater than the sum of its parts.  That by virtue of one another we each become better and are made more whole and more real.  

I recently stumbled upon this quote by Tim Lott on social media that really speaks to what I mean.  It is geared more toward sibling intimacy but I think speaks beautifully to the whole of the family as well. 

"Intimacy, whatever its source, implies the absence of effort.  Every meeting with a stranger, even a close friend, tends to be circumvented by unwritten rules-particularly that the conversation be kept aloft, that the wine be kept flowing, that a level of performance is maintained.  In the intimacy of the family home, behind secret walls, these strictures dissolve.  Closeness emerges, ironically, from conflict as much as anything else.  The freedom to argue, even yell at one another, without fearing that the consequences will be catastrophic.  Children's threats of eternal estrangements- the "I hate you's", the tantrums and angry silences- all are possible only because of (as well as being symptoms of) intimacy."

*the picture that I used for this post shares an image of another friend that we have seen quite a bit of over here.  we are each of us so grateful for her frequent presence in our lives. love you v.

Saying Yes AND Making Space.

One of the primary reasons that we chose homeschooling for our family is because we wanted to prioritize exploration and enrichment.  We wanted to have more time to do stuff.  To be clear, we are not curriculum oriented homeschoolers.  We are real world experience based homeschoolers.  That means that right now we are helping our kids identify their interests and supporting them in pursuing their potential passions.  It is pretty much embodied bliss for me to witness their relationships to their unique interests and to themselves, unfold and deepen.

What this also means, however, is that I am much busier than is my preference.  Left to my own devices, I am disinclined to ever leave my house.  I have been known to put off any and all errands for as long it can possibly wait just so I can get home sooner, or leave later, or preferably not go at all.

But I do leave my house.  A lot.  And not just for the kids activities and adventures.  I also work a fair share out of the house.  Much more than I did when we began homeschooling.  Teaching yoga is certainly no get rich quick (or at all) career path, but my teaching income is an important part of what we generate as a household and I also happen to find it to be joyful and inspiring work.  I love it when people benefit, even in some very small way, by something that I might have offered them.  And while it is so awesome that people will make the trip from the city out to work with me in my tiny home studio space,  I am still leaving my house 4-6 times each week to drive to a city that is at best 22 minutes away, and at worst 55. 

I keep saying yes though.  For now at any rate.  I have boundaries.  Limits.  There are simply things that are too far out of my range.  At least for any weekly commitment.  And this year I have put a moratorium on any new activities for the kids in favor of exploring what they are already doing with greater depth and focus.  I also reassess regularly.  Is this too much?  Am I ok?  Do I have perspective?  Am I showing up as best I can in the areas that matter the most?  Am I maintaining my connection to heart and to ease?  And I ask for help.  A lot.  

Even though I have said no to new activities this year, I have said a big giant yes to more depth within what they are already doing.  Maple is going to be on a year round swim team that practices 3-4x a week at an indoor pool that is not near my house (oh please oh please oh please my fingers are crossed that car pooling is in the stars for us!). And both kids are participating more with Wild Harvest Nature Connection this year- on 2 distinct days, so my convenience level is down but their autonomy and enrichment is up.  And then of course, there is also violin, voice, soccer, craft classes, horses and a few other seasonal gems....

Even as I write this, Maple and Chris, our 2 household extroverts, have been at work and at a friend's, and Eider and I -the 2 intros- have gladly holed up at home, making a pact to not go anywhere until I have to leave for work this morning.  We like it that way.  But not everyone does.  So everyday, we look for the balance, the give and take, the compromise. 

(As an additional side note, some of these thoughts were inspired by my long time sister on the path of parenting, Rachel Wolf', and her thoughts on activities for her homeschooled household. We are very similar and yet very distinct, her and I, and it just goes to show that there is really and absolutely no way to do this parenting gig "The Right Way".  We aim to do our best.  And stay awake along the way.)

from the deck.

For the last few weeks, I have been sitting on the deck watching lobster boats check traps in Cranberry Harbor.  Often, I've had yarn in my hands, looking up now and then as sailboats come around Bunker's Ledge or to chat with the kids as they pick blueberries out front- enjoying the moment with them before they dash off in some combination of bike helmet and life jacket.

The days here are perfectly simple and perfectly complete.  Each year containing a little bit more of everything from the previous year as the children grow and the island becomes more and more their own.  They are of this place in a way that I cannot even begin to understand.  But I do try.  They are the fifth generation of folk to come to this tiny Maine island, making up a people that are referred to here as the "summer colony".  They bike around on roads and wander beaches and play in tide pools that all manner of relation have explored before them.  Including, but in no way limited to their papa, their grandmother and their great-grandmother.

I have been visiting this (tiny in size but magnificent in scope) island almost every summer for the last 12 years, arriving initially as Chris's date at his older brother's wedding.  I fell in-love with this place hard- not unlike how I fell for the man who brought me here- and both loves have deepened and matured with time and age.

Of course, its all complicated.  I was strictly "from away"- even though my kids were not- until perhaps last year, well in to a decade of coming here.  I have made it my own no less.  Knowing from the start that there was something for me to uncover and explore that is very specific to Maple and Eider and their heritage.

These past few weeks have been this, more of this, as though each year we simply pick up from where we left off the previous year.  It has also been, more personally, an unfurling of sorts.  The start of this year found me so wound in terms of holding all the pieces of my life together into some rough outline of togetherness and sanity.  And it has taken a whole lot of time for me to regroup.  Maine has afforded me the luxury of that time.  Less hustle.  More sitting on the deck and watching the tides.  The cluster and jumble of lists and stories, agendas and details, have slowly begun unknotting themselves and loosening their hold- so that they drift apart enough to be distinct or to dissolve entirely.

This is what I know, right now, from a place of less fear and more ease, no hustle and big space:

1. Maple is the best blueberry picker that I know.

2. Chilled white wine, a deck on a summer cottage "down east", and great conversation are all great things individually- together they become something sublime.

3. Teaching yoga classes in a community building called "The Neighborhood House"- for which there is nothing of comparison in the upper midwest- is a singular experience.

4. Hours spent next to or wading around in a tide pool denote a special form of time travel.

5. Talking about Goddess culture while riding bikes past fairie houses to the song of the wood thrush with my own 10yo devi- um, wow.

6. A little boy in a bike helmet playing basketball with a group of island kids.  And then soccer.  And then basketball.

7. Swimming in the cove with Chris as the tide goes out and enjoying his company more than ever.  After all this time.

8. Dinner at the Dock with longtime friends who continue to help me understand the great joy and Grace of family.

9. Hiking!

10. Sunsets!

11. Novels!!!

The expansive state.

I have been absent from this space for what feels like too long.  Not for lack of anything to say but rather from too much- so much to say in fact that at times it has felt like an overwhelming deluge of thoughts and ideas, too many to weed through to make much of any sense here.  Nothing earth shattering, to the contrary, quite everyday.  But enough repeating and steady themes that it does perhaps bear sharing.  

The picture above is a bit of reminder of the current mood really.  Ubhaya Padangustasana, I think the pose is called.  Anyway, the very first time that I remember recognizing the experience of "the seer becomes the seen" was in that pose.  I was up in LaCrosse at Chris Saudek's studio during a time when I was practicing copious amounts of Iyengar Yoga and I was so focused and so intent and then all of the sudden, there it just was.  Everything.  Nothing.  Me feeling simultaneously like I was the one doing to posture as well as the posture itself.  I had certainly experienced that state prior to that moment but had not identified it as such and now the posture sort of embodies the concept for me I suppose.  

My practice has been accessing that state a lot lately.  Big, expansive states that I am more directly going in search of these days as opposed to simply enjoying them when they show up.  I have been heavy on the stillness and on the breath work and on organizing my attention.  I am definitely not very good at any of it, but it is certainly where my energy lies right now.

Last week, Eider and Chris and I went to go and have our spines checked by our Network Spinal Analysis Dr.  We have been involved in Network care for quite a long time at this point- longer than we have been together, longer than Wisconsin, longer than kids.  It is even one of the biggest reasons that we moved to a small town in SW Wisconsin over a decade ago.  The work has always been deeply resonant for me and so helpful in my efforts to live well, in myself and in my relationships.  Anyhow, Susan has been checking us for a long time now.  She knows us very well.  And it was the first time that she had seen both Chris and I in well over a year.  I keep her updated as to our comings and goings, the soundbite for life of the Newlins.  One thing that I love about her so much as a practitioner is how she is always learning and growing.  She continues to work and develop herself and that continues to deepen her offering.  So, she had what for me was a really profound insight while we were there last week- that now seems so obvious to me, like I've known it all along on some level.  I am integrating it into my understanding of myself, my husband and our marriage.  She said that I lead with Inspiration, or Vision.  Then I follow with Structure.  And then finally, Behavior.  She's like: "you do it every time you entrain.  You inhale and expand yourself and then hold yourself there until your structure starts to shift, and then the behavior.  Chris is the reverse.  He has to lead with the Behavior, and then the Structure shifts, and then the Vision can come from that place.  But if the behavior isn't there- he just cannot see the possibility."  

OK.  Whoa.  This is so true for Chris and I, and is such a great understanding for us to have in caring for ourselves and one another in relationship.  But, I do not really need to get into all of the nitty gritty of that here.  What is relevant in this conversation is this idea that we each need to identify what it is that makes it possible for us to connect.  What is your access point into your bigger self?  The part of you that feels vast, and free and full of peace, full of possibility.  For me it has always been to reach for a state. Expansive emptiness in particular has always been a big doorway in for me.

I think I am serving that state a little more these days.  And my behaviors are supporting it.  As well as I can for now.  As ever, perfectly imperfect.

A list of things that have my attention.

First, there is absolutely zero reason for me to have included the picture of the minis (valentino and secretariat) for any reason other than that they are incredibly cute bordering on ridiculous and that hanging out with them makes me feel a cozy mix of thrill and peace, which is not unlike the list that follows. 

I also am feeling somewhat ridiculous in even wanting to post a list as it appears to me that the internet is overwrought with them in the first place and as a general rule I tend to shy away from trends ands fads and quite frankly anything that tells me how to do/feel/be something in 10 easy steps!  This, I truly hope, is no such list, but instead a collection of the things that have my attention right now.  And rather than share them each individually on facebook, I am gathering them together here.  

1.  A long time friend of mine, recently turned me on to this radical podcast. I love podcasts.  And I also really love anything where folks are speaking from their truth and experience and are interested in doing the hard and meaningful work of longtime committed romantic partnership. This is a treasure trove of information and support.

2.  When I was first considering forgoing the compulsory education model with my kids, what I was most attracted to were the outdoor schooling programs.  I longed for my kids to be outside letting the seasons and the surroundings be the educators.   We have found just that in the Wild Harvest group that Maple and Eider spend most Fridays exploring with out at a local county park.  Here is something that I shared about their experience in early February:

I just got home from dropping my kids off at Indian Lake County Park for the day. This and every Friday they are spending the day with a small group of children outside. They are doing things like tracking and bird identification. They are building fires with a bow drill and having council meetings and singing songs. They are learning to carve, they are sipping hot cider, they are playing games. They are wild and free. When I was first longing to homeschool Maple and Eider it was in large part because I wanted something like this for them. I wanted them to be outside. I wanted them to explore their innate curiosity of their physical surroundings. I wanted to nurture both their youth and their humanity. 
Before I left them today, we circled up and sang a song about being out in the cold and in the snow. Their teacher/guide/mentor/adult said that when he sings that song he feels as if his heart rises up to meet the cold and he is able. It is 16 degrees today. They are well. They are children of the North Country.

So, that is something I am psyched about right now.  And for the foreseeable future.

3.  Also speaking to this big and abiding love of learning is this awesome herbal immersion program that Maple and I have been stalking for the last few weeks.  Well ok, mostly me.  But I know for sure that it would be an incredible homeschool opportunity for the lot of us and if I have learned anything so far as a homeschool mama it is that my kids are thirsty for information and are far more able than I often give them credit for.  I have long felt a deep connection to the plant world and not a single growing season passes by that I do not profoundly miss the garden that we tended in Viroqua, when we had space to spread out on.   I do really think that we could cultivate this little urban lot into something grand and giving.

4.  This hat.  I am on a learning bender with the knitting and it seems like every pattern that I am drawn to these days is done in brioche so might as well jump right in, eh?  Plus, I have an actual addiction to this yarn.  It is ridiculous.  The colorways are over the top.

5.  Time hasn't faded my love for these granola bars.  I made them this week for the first time in well over a year and they disappeared in under 24 hours.  So good.  Not to mention that I love everything Molly writes.

6.  Adolescence.  This is something else that is very much up around the Newlin household.  And let me be the first to say that so far it is absolutely everything that it is cracked up to be- as well as a whole bunch of surprise.  For instance, I could have never predicted the heavy dose of perspective, grounding and humility that it would afford me.  In short, the hormonal mood swings of my daughter are affording me the opportunity to get clear on what is mine and endeavor to ground my emotions and put my (not smalll!) hormonal/psychic mood swings into perspective.  Good grief. Talk about a big opportunity to really practice not blowing things out of proportion.  And because I want to keep the channel of safety and communication open and clear with her during this very important and fragile time when things could go south at the smallest infraction- I am attempting to stay as much of a step ahead as I can.  (Of course, I cannot really.  I know that.  But I am going to do my best to stay in my awareness here.  Of her experience.  Of my experience.  Of the flow between us).  So, we have been having some of the major talks without making it anything like a major deal.  Just real, honest, matter of fact talks peppered with hefty doses humor and vulnerability.  I also bought her a couple of these awesome bras.  This company was started by a young woman watching her younger sister go through the turmoil and objectification of "training bras." (which btw is such a gross term) They support a girl in being in relationship with her changing body and in allowing her becoming to be on her own terms as much as possible.  So cool.

7.   And then there is all of the teaching stuff coming up that I am super jazzed about.  Next Saturday, April 16th, I am teaching a 2 hour workshop at The Studio all about how to make lotus pose more accessible.  The work is going to be deep, and mindful and lots of fun.  More information about that can be found here. 

Next month, on May 7th -which just so happens to be a new moon AND the day before Mother's Day- I am teaching a 2 hour class at The Studio all about how to practice during your menses.  I am super pumped about that and you should be too.  I am going to introduce a practice that I have used to great effect for years and I really cannot wait to share it. More information about that here.

In addition to these 2 events, I have added a whole bunch of Asana Junkies Practices on Sundays throughout the summer. Plus, I am putting together a couple of weekend practice intensives for the summer and I will have some information up about that soon.  

Life is full.  And beautiful.  I am feeling so utterly inspired and full of gratitude these days.  Big thanks to all.

x, m

the creative impulse.

Ever since my last post I have been on and off obsessing over the fact that I stated ever so boldly that "Group Practice is my MOST FAVORITE THING!!!", because the small but persistent voice in the back of my mind cannot stop worrying over the "but what about wool?, what about the yarn? what about the knitting? what about all of the gorgeous fiber being grown, milled, dyed and then lovingly held and visioned up into something wonderful???"

The truth is that I have a number of Most Favorite Things.  But they all have a common thread, at least for me they do.  My favorite things to dream, think, engage, and work within, all have embedded within them the spark of creativity.  They share an impulse to create, to bring something before unseen into the realm of the manifest.  

Even yoga.  Especially yoga.  The poses for me are encoded with my creative desire.  To me they are these perfectly exquisite living art forms that move and breathe and shift and grow and evolve.  They have always been this to me.  Putting together a sequence is also an essentially creative process for me.  It begins with a particular mood or feeling that I am inspired by and then I begin to pull the postures together that inform and support that feeling.  It is no less of a creative act to me than looking at color, texture and shape of fiber and beginning to vision that into form.  Feeling is everything.  Mood is everything.  

Part of what I have always loved the most about asana practice is that it moves me directly into my creative self.  My breath and my body, my movement and my stillness are the means by which I gain access to my vast center.  The part of me that is unlimited, unbounded, full of potential.  For the first time in what feels like many years, I have been practicing in such a way that I have been affecting lasting change and deep opening in my physical body.  I am feeling deeply connected to and inspired by the increased mobility, strength and health of my whole body, but especially my spine.  I have recently been feeling like the depth that I am finding in the postures is actually guided by an impulse from my spine.  Like it is speaking to me with full longing for greater depth- from a place of increased freedom, devoid of agenda or prerogative.  As I move into my 20th year of practice, this is so incredibly profound to me.  

Of course, the more that I connect to a sense of freedom and wellbeing, the morse desire I have to vision, to create.  I have 3 active projects on needles right now, which actually feels light for me, and probably 5 more ideas in the chute.  It doesn't feel stressful, it feels thrilling.  And those are just craft projects.  I have a number of other creative longings taking root inside of me as well.  So, I guess, as ever, the point is that there is no limit.  There is no end.  I can love MANY different ways of expressing myself.  The most important thing to me perhaps is simply that I keep going, that I enjoy the periods of abundance and also persevere during the times when inspiration is dry and hollow.  It will circle back around.  It always does.  

practice community.

Group practice is one of my big loves.  I was taught how to practice by someone who loves to practice in general and loves practice in good company in particular.  So it has always been natural for me and a huge source of joy.  And as I have said for years on promotional flyers, I have always learned the most in group practice settings.  There is something so profound for me about practicing along side my teachers and peers that lifts me up and shines light into fresh and unknown territory.  I have also found that as a teacher when I am in my breathe and in my body and in the postures alongside my students, my ability to articulate the subtleties of the actions and the forms is heightened.  My capacity to receive and transmit as both a student and a teacher is accentuated in a group practice setting.  

None of this is to say that I teach my public classes this way.  I do not.  For me the distinction between group practice and public classes is very clear.  (the only exception that I make to this is if I ever have a class of 6 or under- if a class is ever this small, I am on my mat.  I have a very real boundary there that works well for me.)  Not that I think that there is anything wrong with how other teachers choose to teach their classes.  I really don't.  I was brought up in a method where we were taught to absolutely never practice while we teach.  While I subscribed to that view for many years, I now find it, as well as most hard and fast rules, far too dogmatic for me at this point in my life of practice.  I choose to find my own way and what works best for me and I hope to create space for others to do the same.  

I have been teaching in the Madison area for the last 3.5 years, and in Wisconsin for the past 10 years.  It has been my biggest aim during that time to engender in students a love of practice, on their own and in the company of others.  I have endeavored to do this in the context of public classes, but more so through the group practices and the mentorship programs that I have run over the past few years.  It has been such a profound joy for me to watch many individuals deepen their personal relationships to yoga and really let the practice take root in their lives.  My feeling of success in this was made so clear just a few weeks ago when I invited a local teacher, whom I enjoy practicing with, to lead my Sunday Group Practice.  He has a much different background than I do and I enjoy his teaching greatly.  To my total delight all of my regular folks received him so beautifully.  They were open and respectful and earnest and hard working.  They expressed to me and to him such skilled studentship.  I really couldn't help but feel incredibly proud of them, and of myself too I suppose.  

So, as my kids and I get ready to pull up roots and follow our man out west later this year, I find myself taking stock of my contribution to yoga in Madison.  During my time left in the midwest I want to pump as much life and love as I can into the local practice community.  I am going to continue to offer a once monthly Asana Junkies Practice (based off of the amazing practice project by Christina Sell.)  I am also adding Friday Practices at least 2 times per month through the end of May.  Most of these practices will be led by local teacher Scott Lamps, and some by me.  My hope here is to really pass the torch of Madison Group Practice on- not just to Scott, but to the group who has been building over the past several years, so that the community of practice continues to  grow full and rich long after I have moved.  

I am really looking forward to this.  From my vantage point is seems that the vibrancy and momentum of the Madison Yoga Scene is just beginning to unfold.  I am so happy to be a part of it and so thrilled to see what happens.  

10

There is so very much on my mind these days.  More than enough really.  And at the forefront of all of it is that this sweet girl is turning 10.  Ten.  TEN.  

I do not really have any profound thoughts about it and yet, I am brought to my knees by the simple truth of it all the same.  As ever,  I find myself considering both what has changed along with what has stayed the same over a measure of time.  This time an entire decade.  At once it is just a blink, a breathe, a gasp, yet as Maple gives testament to: it is an entire lifetime.   

I do not have such big insights about her turning 10.  I do marvel at the fact that Chris and I have managed to keep an entire human being alive for an entire decade. (And oh my god another one for good chunk of time as well!) In fact, that more or less sums up the completely grand and profound sharing I offered at the opening circle of a New Year's Intensive down in Texas last week at the San Marcos School of Yoga.  Which is interesting in that therein lives an example of something that has stayed the same.  I am still spending time in the presence of Christina and the teachings another decade down the road, still trying to make the connections and derive the meaning of what exactly it means to be Meg and live in wholeness.  (I am still learning all sorts of interesting things from her, such as how to be even more specific in how I move and breathe in the body and that adding a pat of butter to a date before adding the cashew is even more delectable).

Even though I do not much care for the word, I am beginning to understand what the concept of Tween is in reference to.  Maple is very much in between 2 stages right now.  She is not a little girl any more, she is clever, and insightful and funny, and also able to negotiate some of the more grown up and complicated truths of what it means to be alive in the 21st century.  And yet, she has not left the innocence and wonder and magic of childhood behind yet. In truth I hope that she never does, I hope that I never do, but I do know that there is a change coming and that it is as bittersweet as it is inevitable.  

For many years now Maple and I have both loved the dolls made by a Canadian dollmaker, Bamboletta.  Maple has collected a number of dolls over the years, and as a long time doll lover myself, I have been happy to support her in this love.  Maple, as she does with most things, has taken it up a notch or 10 and has begun over the last year to make her own dolls and stuffies, modeled very much after these handmade dolls.  So, when I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, it was no surprise at all- rather such a delight- that she asked for a doll.  The timing was actually perfect as they has just developed a new doll intended for older children.  In the words of the maker, Christina:

My intention with my new style of doll is that it be a representation, one of life's 'book marks', of being 9 years old. Before the turbulence of the teen years when self doubt comes knocking. When , I believe, you are pure in the essence of who you truly are. Such a special and fleeting time - this in between age. The world is full of magic and wonder and all feels possible.
 

So, it feels perhaps like the final doll.  Or maybe the final doll of that sort.  I can imagine her continuing to acquire dolls and other handmade toys, but more out of a curiosity in making her own and less for the childhood snuggles.

what it is.

My husband is so smooth.  Recently, as part of the kids bedtime routine, Chris initiated a 3 minute meditation after brushing teeth and before reading.  The kids have taken to it easy peasy as a matter of course.  Like, obviously.  They pile into bed, set the timer, close their eyes and breathe.  And perhaps, as Eider suggests, turn into piles of goo.  We are keeping up with it on the nights when papa is away, adding some mantra here and there as we feel like it.  It has been a great lesson for me in the relative ease that there often is in applying practices or behaviors that often seem like they should require special circumastances outside of my reality.  But mostly, it has been a lesson for me in Noticing.

Many years ago, I was sobbing on a sofa in a waiting room of a Network Chiropracter when a very little girl, probably under 2 years old, came over to me put her hands on my knees. She starred unblinking into my wet red eyes and then crawled up onto my lap and let me hold her until I was done crying.  At the time, I was doing quite a bit of inner child work and digging into the big wounds of my childhood and early adulthood and it wasn't lost on me the way in which this tiny person stepped into the role of my little girl so that I could care for myself deeply in that moment.  It was pure magic.  Later that same day I was on another sofa relaying my experience to my then therapist, an no-shit-taking bullet-chewing Kabala Goddess who never missed a beat. When I was through, she too looked unblinking into my wet red eyes and said: "Meg! When?!? When are you going to start naming that for what it is?"  Me: "um, what, exactly, is it?" And she said, without any hesitation: "What that is, is a Gift from God."

(ok, while I am not here to get into any kind of chewy conversation over the use of the word God, I do want to be clear that we have a pretty secular thing going on over here and while I have always been very oriented toward the divine, that orientation is of a more pagan variety.)

Over the last few weeks I have been on a countdown to a particular date.  The date originally meant one thing  but when Chris took a new job out of state, it also began to mean another thing as well.  And while I was interested in getting past my not-due-date, I was not so interested in my husbands last day living at home.  So, with a big mix of heavy feelings, I attended a Hot Yoga class on Thanksgiving morning, alongside one of my favorite local teachers.  After class, while we were chatting, I told him that Chris and I would be in his class the following day, or THE day, and that we were very much looking forward to it.  He has been a steady source of support for us individually and as a couple- whether he knows it or not.  However, he said that he wouldn't be there because he and his hubs had tickets to the Vienna Boys Choir at the same time as his usual class.  Which is funny, as I had just hoped to win tickets to the very same performance from Eider's violin group earlier in the week.  Anyhow, I go into the locker room, shower, change, and when I come out he is there waiting for me to tell me that he bought us 4 tickets to go with him to see the concert.  He knew it was Chris' last night and in the spirit of the season and a send off of sorts, he was gifting us the night.  

So, let me tell you, we are pro home bodies round these parts and it is not our first impulse to drive into the big town on the eve of a massive transition.  We are more inclined to hole ourselves up and watch the minutes slip through our grasp and resist reality.  Suffer in silence, as it were.  But not this night.  And so for the rest of Thanksgiving and then the whole next day leading up to the concert, I rode a giant wave of gratitude.  I didn't feel sorry for myself, I didn't dread the passing of time.  Instead I stood in full awe of the Grace that had decended into my life in the form of a loving friend and an evening out with my little tribe where we were asked to do nothing but enjoy each others company and soak up some art.  I didn't miss what this was, not for a moment.  And I can name it with the full force of my knowing as a Gift from God.  

The practice for this noticing, this naming, is in the little things that happen everyday, almost, but not entirely, just below the surface of awareness.  I, as ever, am a work in progress, but I am trying my best right now to notice these details for what they are.

making space

This fall has been all warm days and slanted light.  Slow and easy in a way I am completely unaccustomed to after the last 10 midwestern falls.  They have, up til now, seemed like a race to winter.  Quick to freeze, fast to drop leaves, and barely a moment to take in the transition.  Not this year though.  It has stretched into long moments of shifting colors and perfect air.  

There has, of course, been the rich busyness of kid activities.  Soccer and swimming, violin and horses.  I have additionally been teaching a lot.  Our schedule feels tight, in a way that I know is temporary even if I struggle with the discomfort of some stacked days.  One of my annual rituals is the cleanout of our homeschool/craft chest.  This one bohemoth piece of furniture functions as the nexus for much of our homelife, perhaps visited as frequently as the fridge.  It is a treasure trove of craft supplies and projects past, present and potential.  It really could stand to be cleaned out more than just once a year but I am worldclass procrastinator and skilled at the not so subtle art of avoidance and well, you know.  So by the time I get to it- and I have to seriously psych myself up for the endeavor- it is an overflowing mess of partially realized creations and oodles and oodles of torn paper making it impossible to locate any item of real interest.  Cleaning it out is a wonder.  It is both incredibly sweet and nostalgic to save some things and toss the rest. And then there are all of the as yet unutilized supplies that have been hidden beneath the rubble, a universe of possibility.

When I am finished, both kids plant themselves at the table and dig deep for a long stretch of making.  This year it was with all of the needlefelting supplies unearthed from last winter.  And it lasted for weeks.  It isn't over.  Not by a long shot.  But that first big thrill of creating has ebbed a bit now.  For me though, the whole thing was nothing short of inspiring.

Maybe it is in the air, maybe it is the combination of a very meaningful summer and lingering fall, or maybe it is simply that I have been in one place long enough to take some deep breaths and feel into the possibility, but the crackle of creativity has been everywhere.  I am full of ideas and inspiration.  Some of it fleeting and some of it taking root.  I have never felt, at any other point in my life, more interested in making.  And I couldn't even necessarily say what.  I just want to Produce.  Something.  

For me, my asana practice has always been a lot like cleaning out the craft chest.  Not the procrastination and avoidance part so much as the clearing out of time and space.  I suppose some of that comes from what I like to think of as the matrix of energy that exists around me and my practice space and time.  But there is a sort of clearing that happens when I step onto my mat.  After an initial period of noticing my breath and my body and my effort I begin to notice something inside of me open more deeply.  It is a vast and empty space.  A breeding ground for clarity, synthesis and ideas.  Some come to life, some do not.  

I can see that this could potentially sound like me explaining ways in which I check out during my practice but try to package it up into something fancy and seduce myself into believing my own story.  Maybe.  But I think more that it is simply me making space.  That when I practice I have trained myself to pay attention.  To become my own observer.  Removed from many of my habits and time killing distractions that are a real (not so real) part of most of my days.  I think it is more that when I make space inside of my own consciousness what steps forward is a creative impulse. And I by no means think that impulse is unique to me.  I think that making space is an essential part of the creative process.  Perhaps I have simply trained the muscle of practice into being my particular space maker. 

There is more to say about this.  But not just yet. 

Fear and Prayer.

For the last several months, fear has been ignited within me.  

When I was in my early and mid twenties, fear was the main lense with which I viewed my reality. On the heels of a childhood in which I learned more about the external application of love and approval than I did about the inherent value of self, fear of not being loved seems somewhat obvious.  Tragic for sure, but also not so surpirsing.  My bigger fear though, or at least the one that I was more consciously consumed by at the time, was the fear that the energies that were waking up and coming to life inside of me were really and truly going to kill me.  Like fucking end me.  Mostly, this manifested on my yoga mat.  Ha.  Even the memory of this seems a little bit absurd.   I remember seeking council from my asana teachers as well as my meditation teachers in varying states of bright eyed panic and over and over again choking out a feeble "Help! This shit is gonna kill me!"  It was during this period that I was introduced for the first time to the practical application of prayer.  I was instructed to talk to the energy, to the Shakti, and ask her to both ease up and show me the way.  

At the time, I was living in Tucson, and 3 times a week the teachers at YO would meet for the 2 hours before Darren's classes to practice together.  There was a sizable and steady group of us that would convene with a lot of regularity and occasionally work on the same practice but more often than not do our own thing.  And let me just tell you, there were some able bodied people in there.  I was at the very beginning of my life as a practitioner and not only was I intimidated by what others were doing on their mats, I also felt like I had something to prove with what I was doing on mine.  And I was laced with fear.  It pumped through my veins and came out on my breath.  I was scared that not only would I look like the total and utter charleton that I am, but that I would hurt myself so severely that it would kill me.  Like literally.  Kill me.  

For many months I would practice right next to Darren and Noah.  This was over 10 years ago and the two of them were like gods to me.  In part, because they are both just incredible humans who I continue to hold in very high regard and from whom I have learned a great deal- not just in the yoga room.  But also, this was during a time when we were all involved in a method in which a particular type of ability was showcased and held up as the aim, independent of any other virtues or abilities.  I know I held myself to a false standard and that that feeling of lack and of not adding up was a strong generator for my feelings of fear and low self worth.  On one particular day, I was working on putting my legs into lotus while balancing on my forarms.  I would get almost all of the way there and then realize where I was and just collapse.  Topple.  They asked me at one point what was wrong, and I replied that I was drowning in a puddle of fear.   D looked up at me and said: "A puddle?  Well that's not so bad".

For real.  A puddle.  When we are talking about a river or a lake or good god the sea?  A puddle is nothing.  In that moment I became both very small, and very still and it all became quite relative.  And I was so much bigger than whatever that fear was that I had been telling myself was going to kill me.

While that moment has stayed with me for all of these many years in between, it was not until I birthed my first child that I fully shed my fear skin and stepped forward into my power as a grown woman.  I think for me it took an initiation into the life cycle to begin to get any sense of perspective and humility around the most essential truth of our nature.  We are each of us born, and we will each of us die,  and most likely my death and even my real big hurts in this lifetime are not going to take place on my yoga mat.  I was so blissed out after Maple was born.  Ecstatic.  Higher, and more full of confidence and authentic vulnerability than I had imagined possible.  I had given birth to this perfect and sublime baby girl and no matter how hard I loved her and how well I parented her she, like the rest of us, is on the uncertain and sacred march to her death day.  That shit rocked me.  And it rocks me still.  And all of the fears that I was swimming in in my practice were now only significant in whatever ways that they touch that underlying truth.

So I got a lot less scared.  And I got a lot more real.  At least in my perspective.  But a few years later when Eider was born and he came in as my easy and tranquil and gentle baby, in sharp contrast to his sister who has always been fierce and dramatic and dynamic, I felt a new fear rise up.  I have never had such an easy and straightforward yet profoundly deep relationship with anyone in my life.  So, it must be flawed, right?  It must not last, something is gonna give, something has gotta break.  I feared that something unseen would rise up and take him from me.  That I would only get to love him in the here and now for a short time, because how could something so good and so easy ever last?

Over time though, as Eider came in to his own, he did become difficult in his own way and the feeling did fade a bit.  Thank god.  You know, he got bigger and more and more autonomous and assertive of his own will and agenda.  He started digging his heels in and growing up.  It has been some years since I felt the accuteness of my fear of loosing him.

Until this summer.  When I lost another.  Another, who I did not know and had not spent years caring for and building relationship with.  So, I started to get scared again.  But when the fear woke up I saw that it had grown in scope and in power during its years of slumber.  I felt it rise up and lay claim to my diapragm, lungs and wind-pipe.  I started to play out all of the worst-case scripts in my imagination of how it would unfold and consume my kids, especially my boy.

Alright, so I was in the cave with all of this shit, but because my moto right now is: "Keeping it Real One Day at a Time", I asked for help.  I told the truth about what was alive in me and got real vulnerable in the way that I am learning all hearts long for.  So my scared heart way buoyed by the hearts of those who love me and they offered up prayers.  One of my friends who has gotten tangled in fear a time or 2, offered me a prayer from AA that she calls upon when her heart needs settling.  Another of my friends offered me a prayer from the Christian tradition that she calls upon when she is up at night spinning tales of her worst fears. 

This has helped.  But I also really needed to take Eider to our doctor to check in with what was appearing to be a very real decrease in energy.  Avoiding it because I was scared of it was really not going to be the answer.  Getting him tested for Lyme and a few other things was.  Having an earnest conversation with our care provider about irrational fears coupled with the great uncertainty that we all exist within was too.  He does not have Lyme.  But he does have incredibly low Vitamin D levels.  And so we are taking care.  I am taking care.  Of him and of myself in physical and in psychic ways.  As for the fear,  I am breathing into it.  I am giving thanks for all of the bounty that I cannot imagine living without, even though one day I may.  And I am full of prayer.  Lots and lots of prayer.

Neutral

One of the things that I am loving the most about getting older is that it means that my relationships are getting longer, deeper, more nuanced and intimate.  They are either standing the test of time or they are not.  I am so into that.  I think it is so cool that I have been an adult for long enough now that many of my adult relationships are now spanning decades as opposed to years.  I also really think that for folks like myself who are not incredibly social- social media has been vital in maintaining certain relationships over the course of many years.  There are so many meaningful connections out there that I have been able to nurture in seemingly small ways via the interwebs that have translated into much larger siginificance in the face to face world. 

One such relationship is with my friend Mary-Kate.  My relationship with her is more like a story of mutual friends and proximity.  We both lived for awhile in Prescott, Arizona.  We have both been very close to Christina Sell over the years.  We were both involved in Anusara Yoga for about a decade give or take.  And we are both passionate wives and mamas.  We reconnected a few years ago due once again to proximity.  Mary-Kate lives very close to our Maine home, and out of a desire to practice and connect we began to get together a couple of times during each of our visits east.  The time together has grown over the years and Mary-Kate has become a dear friend, ally and mentor to me.

She is a luscious love goddess in all of the ways that I am perhaps a bit cut and dry and maybe a little blunt...  During the busy summer months she teaches in this beautiful renovated big red barn, all white-washed and perfect inside.  Mary-Kate still teaches the thrice weekly 90 minute classes complete with demos, partner work and musical accompaniment.  Her classes are truly everything that mine are not, and I adore them.   I went to a number of her classes in the Red Barn while we were in the area, often times with my mom and kids in tow- which I love all the more.  One of the musicians there this summer was a man named Sudamo.  Eider, my musical kid, connected with him immediately and by the time we left to head west I think that he had collected all of Sudamo's recorded works....  Anyway....  Sudamo also shares some of his healing work in the community and works, he says, as a neutral charge.  

As Mary-Kate and I were saying goodbye for the summer, we kind-of did this quick round-up on the current wisdom for managing our personalities, tendencies, fears and foibles.  She shared that in a session she had with Sudamo, he suggested that instead of happy or great or whatever, that maybe she should try shooting for neutral instead.  As someone who has long felt the intensity of some relatively manic swings, this little wisdom throw-down has been working on me for the last few weeks.  And not because it is necessarily a new insight.  Rather, it is a concise and succinct articulation of something I have been feeling myself orbiting around and into for awhile now.  Why not just go for neutral?  Why not?  

I have long been attracted to feeling states that one might label as empty, or perhaps expansive. One of my long time care providers and friends, Susan, has noticed that that state is my access point to greater connection, trust, and peace.  I think that perhaps another way of framing it, is in fact, Neutral.  As I get older, and hopefully a little wiser, neutral seems so much more appealing than the big highs (or low, lows).  And maybe I am a little late to the game here, or maybe my aha moment is more like a "blinding flash of the obvious", but I am beginning to think that what we really mean by the word Bliss is in fact perhaps Neutral- and doesn't really merit the judgement of good or bad or more or less or any of it.  So, I'm going for neutral.  And that is sort of it.  Aha!

Keep Going

One morning in Maine, while the kids were feral and free range on bikes somewhere on the island, Chris and I went for a walk.  We ran into and chatted with a number of island folk, one of whom was once the teacher in the mixed grade schoolhouse and also happens to hail from Wisconsin.  She is mama to a little girl just under 2 and has another on the way.  She is in that great part of pregnancy where energy levels are back up and you are finally beginning to actually look pregnant.  Before we said goodbye, I asked when she was due and she replied that her babe is expected in early November.  After she was gone, I stood stock still in the road, gut punched for a moment by our proximal due dates.  Or rather, the due date that was mine for the 11 weeks that I had been pregnant.  I took a few big gulping sobs and let the tears come and flood my eyes and face while Chris held space for me in the empty road.  His big empathetic heart my home.

And then, the rush of grief, the wave of emotion, was gone.  I put my hand on my empty and hollow belly and we walked on.  It is getting easier.  In fact, it has become easy in the sense that it doesn't feel like the headline story and more like simply another scar in the make up of who I am.  In the days following my miscarriage I dove for a spell into the worm hole of information and support accessible throught the internet.  I consumed information both of the factual and emotionsl variety.  I remember reading at one point that the intense initial period of grief generally lasts 3 months.  That after 3 months the weight of the loss and the heaviness of the grief will have lifted and the way forward will be more clear.  In those early days I truly thought that from then on I would live buried under the weight of my loss.  I was swallowed by it.  Equally difficult were the moments in which I wondered if I had made the whole thing up- that I had never really been pregnant to begin with- just hopeful and crazy.  But there is some evidence.  There are the emergency room bills and the small piece of citrine resting on the puja next to our other birth stones.

3 months have passed now and it has indeed gotten easier.  Now when something reminds me of my ghost baby I can heave a few sobs and move on.  I keep going.  Because, really what other choice is there?  I want to live this full and glorious life that I have been gifted.  And I want to carry the stories that I have gathered along the way and that make me more and more of who I imperfectly, perfectly am.  I by no means mean to make light of the very real and deep loss that is pregnancy loss, I just hope to express that I feel ready to move on.  My focus is elsewhere.  I have been doing a good job feeling my feelings and I am excited for this time that we are in now and for the time ahead.

SUP

A few days ago, Maple and I took a Stand Up Paddleboard Yoga class with a friend of mine that summers on MDI.  We have both paddleboarded before, and we have both done some yoga- but never the 2 together.  Maple and I showed up at Ike's Point a little bit before dusk immediately following a practice that I had led in SouthWest Harbor.  I was tired and wanted to bail, but Moo made it perfectly clear that that was not an option.  She was completely gung-ho for the date, as children so often are when given the chance for some one on one time with a parent.

And so we showed up psyched.  Neither of us had much idea of what we were in for, but what could possibly be better than being with each other in a beautiful place with cool- not North Atlantic freezing- lake water to splash around in?  Maple was so open and willing and comfortable in her skin and there is just about nothing else that moves me straight into my heart and into my bliss quicker than witnessing her in her full expression.  It is my Joy manisfest.  So, we jumped in the water and wobbled around in yoga poses on our boards and I wore a shit-eating grin from ear to ear the entire time.

Afterward, we cozied up in a booth at Eat-A-Pita to share a burger and hot chocolate (and a beer- but we didn't share that).  She was snuggled up in a fluffy sweatshirt and a pair of my baggy-for-her yoga tights .  The whole evening was such a wonder and that night I could barely sleep from the thrill of it all.

The next morning I relayed my experience to my own mother and she reminded me that just 2 years ago when we were here in Maine I had said to her that I really had no relationship with Maple and that she was mostly Chris' kid.  And holy shit I remember feeling like that.  I have a vivid memory of watching them asleep in the bunkbeds and wanting to leave.  Thinking to myself that if it weren't for Eider that maybe I would go.  That was only 2 years ago.  And yet it feels like such an eternity more.  Shortly after that trip I began making choices that so deeply negated my own inner compass and wisdom in ways that would lead to many months of pain, despair, and suffering in my mariage and in the whole of my family.

The details of that time are a much longer story for a much different day.  Because I did wake up again.  And I worked like hell to dig myself out of the muck that I had descended into.  And I fought like crazy to reclaim my truth, my integrity and my joy.  It wasn't easy and it wasn't instant, but it was truly the only choice for me.  I give thanks with every breath that I found the strengh to make it and that my people stayed with me through it and love me still.

I have received several emails, messages and notes from folks expressing their appreciation of how wonderful my relationship with my daughter is.  And it is so true.  My relationship with Maple blows my mind on the regular- and it was hard won.  It could have gone a much different way for us.  I really think that we were both consciously and unconsciously checking out from our family.  She, as ever, a mirror to me.  As close as I got to surrendering to that- I didn't.  I fought.  Now I know that surrendering in that way is no option for me.  Or for us.  That we will each, in this little family constellation of ours, fight like hell to pull eachother and ourselves up out of the darkness and into the Light.

Quitting

For the last 23 days I have been participating in an Instagram Yoga Challenge.  I want to quit.  For a whole slew of reasons.  The most glaring and superficial reason is that I really cannot stand IG yoga challenges.  I tend to be very judgey and critical of them- they stir up too many attention grabbing shadow aspects of my ego and leave me feeling a mixture of pissed off and forlorn.  I also cannot stand looking through my instagram account and seeing tons of yoga poses.  It feels unbalanced and one-sided as oppossed to expressive of the more diverse and varied images of our daily life.  Also, I am on vacation and the day to day obligation of posting a specific pose picture has started to feel less like fun and more like hassel.  And lastly- and I'm just gonna put it out there- the postures have gotten harder and putting the images of my effort in the direction of a pose versus the final expression of a pose, feels raw and exposed and not so comfortable.

So, why in the hell did I decide to do this challenge to begin with?

Well, let's see..... Back in the end of June I was continuing to ride some pretty significant waves of grief and some ups and downs whose size I was feeling an increased concern about.  I could feel the darkness all around the edges creeping in bit by bit every day.  I was beginning to feel very quiet and increasingly isolated.  I also knew that I was going to be headed on vacation for most of July and that I wouldn't be teaching as much.  Teaching has often been a potent way in which I stay both anchored in my own practice as well as connected to the world beyond my immediate sphere.  Loosing touch with these pieces that hold me accountable to myself during a time when I am feeling fragile and alone is a recipe for disaster.  I know from experience.

Last summer we came to Maine less than 2 weeks following my abortion.  I was on a treacherous roller coaster of despair and despondency.  I have vivid memories of laying in the sun on the deck of the Islesford house (with one of the most beautiful views in the world) with my eyes squeezed shut willing myself to disappear.  There have been so many parallels between this year and last and I was unwilling to go down that particular road again.  I needed a plan of action that wouldn't invlove me slipping into that dark and lonely hole.  (Which, it is so important for me to take note here, the likelihood of me slipping is so much less than it once was due in so many ways to the good hard work that I spent doing all this last year to take better care of me...  and yes, this is part of that too.)

So, I put it out there and jumped in.  Instagram Yoga Challenge.  And as much as I am sick of it now, it has fulfilled for me what I needed it to, plus, a few unforseen and added bonuses.

Yes, I have stayed engaged in my practice.  No, I have not disappeared.  I have pushed up against a lot of my judgements and criticisms both of myself and of others.  I have a whole list of things that I tell myself I should or should not do because of the stories that I have made regarding the opinions of colleagues, teachers and friends.  In the past, I have often let my fear of these stories effect my choices.  I am working on that.  This has helped.

But the best thing to come out of my participation in an IG yoga challenge has been the way in which Maple and I have co-created these images together.  It has been an absolute collaboration, and that has been so fun.  It is enjoyable for me to watch her visual perspective play out in the pictures that we have made.  And almost every single one posted has been her choice, in terms of setting, angle and even filter.  You can check out all of our images on Instagram @treeduckmama.  Plus, I could absolutely use some extra cheer and support as I attempt to make it through!

Part 2: Reverence

I hesitated publishing my last post.  More so than any other on this site, which is sort of interesting when I consider how vulnerable some of them are for me.  I hesitated because I knew that it was really only part of a much larger picture.  I was aware of those other parts, but there was a point that I was trying to make in Part 1 and I chose to wait before delivering the rest.  

I have been fortunate enough to have been well trained in looking at (most) topics from a multitude of vantage points.  I consider myself very skilled at being able to hold several conflicting perspectives in my awareness at one time.  In fact, I really do believe that I have learned this skill from teachers whom I consider to be unparralleded in the the art and science of yoga, certainly, but even more importantly, in the subtle art of Awareness.  

So, the entire time that I was sharing the story about the woman smoking her vap pen in a yoga studio locker room, and about my hubs compulsively sucking down mints during a class, I was aware of this nagging little voice that kept on whispering:  Meg, what about Reverence?

The truth, that is perhaps not even apparent in Part 1, is that I am a big believer in personal discipline as a pathway to personal freedom.  It has never been the other way around for me.  The attention, precision, clarity and ability have always come to me through the doorway of my own discipline.  And..... that has always afforded me more freedom than I could have ever possibly imagined.  In my relationships with others, with myself, with my practice.  The whole thing.  But!!!  It isn't just discipline.  It is the work, the time, and the devotion that comes along with it.  Sound familiar?

The other day, we were out at the horse farm where Maple has been taking lessons for the last few years.  Her teacher, Gretchen and I were discussing the Suzuki Institute that Eider had just participated in out in Colorado.  Gretchen was a Suzuki kid growing up and as such has a lot of context for the approach.  I was sharing with her how important I feel it is for my practically feral 6 year old to have something that calls him to attention every day and asks that he show up with a certain level of consistency, decorum, and openness.  Yes, I for sure think that it is extra cool that he is getting a muscial education.  But more than that, I believe in the value of learning to apply himself to something day in and day out, when it is easy as well as difficult, with no clear sense of what the outcome will be, but a with a steady faith in the process.  As our Luthier (who conveniently lives down the road- love small towns!) said to me the other day: "Suzuki does not neccessarily make excellent musicians, but it most certainly crafts exceptional human beings."  I think this is true.  From what I have seen thus far anyway.  I think that a big part of that comes from the reverence for the process that is implicit in the method.  

Gretchen and I were having this conversation also as it applies to Maple and her relationship to the horses.  You see, this is not just any ol' horseback riding that Mapes is doing.  Gretchen instructs a method called Natural Horsemanship, or Parelli, named after its founder.  Much of the work that she does with her students and the horses is in cultivating a relationship that balances as sense of ease and peace within a larger, more reverent perspective.  For the first year that Maple took lessons, she seldom ever rode a horse.  Instead she brushed them and learned how to communicate via a series of ground games.  When she did begin riding, it was on a bareback pad and using a halter with no bit.  Based on the conversations that I have had with Gretchen, whom I consider to be an exceptional teacher, this balance of freedom with reverent discipline, are paramount to her in her work.

So, I am supporting our kids in pursuits that beg a certain level of depth and attention from them.  I have sought out teachers for them as well as for myself that hold us with a regard that acknowledges both the brilliance and the complexity of our humanness.  It is not surprising, really, when I know the value of that sort of work in my own life.  And I am by no means unique in this.  I think that most of us have a part of ourself that rises up when it is called on to participate in the bigger Work.  In the work that connects us more deeply to our essential nature - to the truth of who we are.  To our free and boundless hearts.  

Also, there is no limit to where we each find the thing that engages that aspect of ourselves.  For me, it has been primarily been through the practice of hatha yoga.  That space has been the primary realm where I have engaged with discipline in this life.  But the teachings that I have gained there spill over, especially into my relationships and perhaps most importantly, into my marriage.  But for Chris, y ol' mint eater, not so much.  Yoga for him is the place where he gets to breathe and lengthen out muscles tight and sore from long hours spent driving.  He explores his relationship to discipline on the bike.  And it is by no means casual- which actually is a huge part of our connection.  We are both deeply drawn to the profound as experienced through our will, effort and ultimately our surrender.  And it is personal for both of us.  Which is why, I really have no business placing any judgement or critique on the quality or flavor of other people's relationship with anything.  Let alone yoga.

Part 1: "Mind if I hit my vap pen?"

A whole bunch of years ago I used to teach and practice yoga in a fancy studio in Santa Fe.  There was an interesting cast of characters that populated this period in my life and one in particular was an Australian man named Mark.  Mark had many wonderful and idiosyncratic qualities but there is one in particular that is emblazoned on my memory for all time.  And that is this:  Mark always chewed gum during class.  And I really couldn't get past it.  Does he not know that this is YOGA?  Is he not aware of the blantant disrepect that is implicit in his utter disregard for the applied and assumed code of yogic ethics?  Not to mention how the hell is he even able to breathe with that wad in his mouth?  To me that was such an obvious no-no that I was left with no other alternative to my difficulty with the situation than to file Mark away in a category labeled by me as "non-yogi".  

Fast forward 10 plus years to a land where everything is much more grey for me than it once was.  Certainly a lot of growing up has taken place not just within my life of practice but also within my humanity and the expanded perspective afforded by time and experience.  Interestingly enough, in response to my last post I was contacted by a number of folks not regarding grief or loss but instead asking me about Bikram Yoga- or as it is becoming more and more commonly referred to in the current disenfranchising terrain, "Hot Yoga".  In fact, I will from this point forward refer to it only as Hot Yoga but please know that I am not referring to flow or power yoga taught in a heated room.  I am referring only to the 90 minutes, 26 poses and 2 breathing exersizes.  

So I got a text from one of my close friends who lives in a far away city and whose life I imagine looks much like mine.  She is managing a household and a family and teaching and practicing and doing her best to show up for all of these parts of herself with as much integrity and authenticity as she can.  I love her.  Anyway.

She asked: Is hot yoga real yoga to you or something else?

My response: Yoga Candy

I have actually been using that term for awhile to describe how I feel about Hot Yoga.  I guess that it sort of suggests a break from my regular practice or a sort of treat within it.  It definitely asks something much much different of me than how I practice on my own or even with the teachers that I choose to study with from other methods (or non-methods).  

Remember that file that I put Mark in all of those years ago?  Well, turns out that I have been putting a lot of things into that file.  It has stopped functioning as a strictly non-yogi file and has morphed into an "I'm not sure what to do with this" file, but I will to continue to gather information in hopes that I will gain some sort of understanding at an unforeseen future time.  

There is some interesting shit in that file.  Recently, I was alone with one other woman in the locker room of the local hot yoga studio (which in not exclusively hot yoga- they do lots of other yoga in the hot rooms as well).  She pulled something out of her bag and said these totally baffling words to me: mind if I hit my vap pen?  Um......  Not only was I naked and covered in sweat and wielding a pile of heavily sodden undergarmets and towels, I truly had no idea the meaning of what she was saying in a realm so utterly out of context from where I am imagining theses words are normarily uttered.  Take a hit?  Of a vap pen?  I really only even barely know what that is.  So, I said the only thing that I could possibly say in this situation:  Sure, go for it.  I'm still sort of processing my response.  But I mean really?  Who the hell am I to set this girl straight when she is so clearly trying to set some kind of new course for herself wrought with all of the difficulty and complexity of her own unknown by me life?  Smoke your freakin vap pen in the locker room of this yoga studio.  But I have to ask myself a little bit at that point: do I think this is real yoga?

Perhaps even more alarming to me is this other happening that I have been filing away.  Every few months or so, the stars align and Chris comes with me to take a Hot Yoga class and if we are real lucky we even go out for dinner afterward.  There is this massive bowl of mints in the lobby of the studio.  Chris loves the mints.  They are cooling after all and as we all know it is hot in there.  Like, epically hot.  Lately however, he has gotten into the habit of bringing a stash of mints into the yoga room which he administers to himself over the course of the class.  You can hear him unwrapping mints at all of the desigated water breaks and sometimes between other postures as well.  This is my husband we are talking about here.  My husband.  But, it is fucking HOT IN THERE!   

At this point, I kind of have to ask myself: why doesn't this bug me more? 

And I guess that the answer to this question is really the whole point.  I just care so much less now than I once did.  And so much more.  I recognize now in a way that was so impossible once upon a time, that there is a gift within yoga that is so much more vast and complicated than what have become the specific parameters of my relationship with asana practice.  Thank God for that.  Seriously.  I think this really may be why I am so completely ok with not being connected to any one method or form.  The possiblility of one way, and at the same time its opposite, suits me.  It is so fantastic that the people for whom my teaching style doesn't work, have so many other options available to explore.  I know that I ask my students to show up in a pretty awake and profound way in the yoga classroom.  That is the lineage from which my seeds have most been sown.  But I know that it is a lot to ask and I know that it is hard and good grief I know that it is not for everyone.  As my teacher, mentor and friend Darren Rhodes has said:  I am an aquired taste.  And I have lightened up over the years.   In my classroom, in my perspective, in so many things.  That is not to say that I have stopped, or will stop anytime soon,  asking a whole hell of a lot from myself and my students.  And you know what? If were to see vap pen girl again in the future I may gently suggest a different option. Like, why not wait til you are outside? And in the meantime take some big breaths and a shower. Perhaps.

The rest of the text exchange with my friend went something like this:

friend: I've been (practicing Hot Yoga) several times a week since January but in my head I am still not practicing.

me: It is so different from regular practice.

friend: Some days especially when I do not vibe the teacher I allow myself to totally check out.

me: The checkout is sort of sublime.

friend: It is!  I have way more compassion for those of my students who do that now.

me: Yep.  Life is hard.  Sometimes yoga is just about breathing and stretching and not giving a shit about progress.

When I moved from the SW back to rural Wisconsin, I also moved from vibrant yoga communities to a town with virtually no yoga other than myself.  I have pretty much directed myself in practice in the decade since.  I occassionally visit my teachers and drink from their well, and for that I am very grateful.  But for the most part, I have been a self-generating one woman show of learning.   When we moved closer to a city a few years ago, the idea of going to a yoga class instructed by: A. someone I did not know, and B. delivered in the consistent, dependable and structured form of a Hot Yoga class, I was all over it.  It was like a break.  Like a little bit of Yoga Candy.  But it became so much more than that.  It became a bit of a curiouslity to me as well as an opportunity for me to exersize in a rigourous way that is so completely different from my regular practice.  It also connected me.  The community of people that seek out that type of practice are so incredibly diverse and also so different from the people I usually see in my classes.  And what I recognized in them almost at once was the shared understanding of difficulty.  That practice is infinitely challenging.  Just as much as it is totally and completely accessible to most folks.  But it really does never get easier.  What changes is our relationship to the difficulty over time.  Our ability to stay with the breath even when it may very well be the final thing that we can possibly give ourselves to in the heat drenched final moment of the world.

Sometimes it is only survival in there.  And Hot Yogis seem to kindof understand that.  Beacuse you know what? Much of the time (or most of the time as it seems lately to me), it is only survival out here as well.  Doing our best.  To breathe and stretch and sweat into our very next moment of being.