Longevity in Practice

The other day I attempted a pose that I haven't approached in a long time and wasn't in the least bit surprised to find that it was completely inaccessible.  My hips felt tight and my knees felt perilous and I was disappointed for a moment or so before shrugging it off and moving along.  That type of pose in particular has always been earned and never given for me and quite frankly I have not been doing much to earn it.  And while I still have some lust and ambition for some of the bigger postures in yoga, my drive has lessened and my sights feel as though they have shifted.

I have long emphasized progress on the path of practice, and I still do, but the measure for that has tipped in the direction of the internal and more self-reflective aspects.  While there was a phase in which I was more reckless in practice- hello 20-something Meg- and cavalier with my nervous system, I have always been on the more conservative end of the spectrum.  I will take risks and I will push myself but not without the underlying confidence in my skill and ability.  If that is not there, then I wait until I have developed it or if I do not choose to work on it then I clearly must not care enough to ever get it and well, I simply must be ok with that.   For me, the risk of injury to the point of limiting my ability to practice at all,  often outweighs my desire for a posture or movement, and I simply depend on my practice for my psychological health too much to risk it.  Of course, there are unforeseen injuries and illnesses that have necessitated breaks in regular practice and that to me has always seemed like plenty.  I have lived through several pregnancies and postpartum stretches of time that have dictated the needs of my body far more that the agenda of my will and, well, that is it's own particular challenge and surrender.  I would like to be healthy and well in my body for as long as I can so that I may practice as well as I can with as little harm as I can for as long as possible.  

Which is really where my sight is set now.  Longevity in practice.  The clock is only moving in one direction and while I know that I am still in the window of time as a practitioner to really explore the physical depths of my practice, I am beginning to think that the risk is too great and the amount of attention and time to cultivate and sustain that degree of opening and strength is more than I want to give.  Perhaps this is tricky, but for me my kids are still young and at home and it is a delight for me to spend time with them exploring their developing interests and passions rather than diving down the worm hole of mine.  And because my practice is regular and well developed, it also isn't going anywhere so I do not feel any risk of loss in that way.  

None of this is to say that I am throwing in the towel.  I am still working on opening my hips and deepening the curl in my upper spine.  I still believe yogi dandasana and kapotasana are in reach if I spend a little more time working toward them.  But I am also able to shrug it off and move along during the stretches of time where I cannot really touch those shapes.  I am also not willing to mess with my nervous system or walk too far out on the end of the live wire in a way that may lead to physical harm.  I am interested in the full and healthy function of my whole system.  

This has been on my mind so much lately in a variety of different ways.  I have been watching my teachers begin to back away from the deeper postures in their practices and their teachings.  I have also been discussing and witnessing the shifts in the practices of my peers.  I have been trying to pay attention to the injuries that are happening in the yoga world and how they are handled.  I have also been feeling some concern for the ways in which yogis are served or not served once they do seek professional help for chronic or developing physical issues.  This is something that I am just beginning to chew on, but it seems to me that the average PT is not so familiar with the range of motion more standard for a yogi and the risk seems higher when conventional exercises are applied to that sort of patient.  I don't know, I am not a PT.  But the PT's that I do know that are familiar with what goes on in practices such as mine have a different protocol that they adhere to than for someone with average range of motion.   But I digress...

In my teaching right now I am loving decoding the basics in ways that unfold understanding in more progressive shapes.  Fluency in a posture like Virabhadrasana One makes the approach into a shape such as Natrajasana so much more accessible.  Perhaps, even more importantly, the way in which we begin to inhabit our physical self can be so profoundly developed in the basic asanas that we begin to carry that connection along with us: into the other shapes, sure, but more importantly, into the quality of our being-ness across the board.  When we penetrate our understanding to such deep levels, we sustain the state of yoga for longer.  I believe that to be true and I believe that there is a particular elegance in the teaching and studying of the basic shapes.

And sure, we are getting into more psychic and intuitive terrain here, but anybody that knows me and my teaching, knows that this is what I am most into and well, quite honestly, what it is all about for me at the core.  The other day I taught my big Monday night class and Chris came to it which was amazing for me because he hasn't taken a class with me in years and I don't think has ever seen me teach to such a big group.  Afterwards, of course, I drilled him for as much feedback as possible because he has seen my teaching from way back when I was a baby yoga teacher and holds that understanding of my growth and development- plus we are brutally honest with each other and both love constructive feedback, so there's that.  Anyhow, I don't know how we got there but I really began to chew on this awareness I am uncovering in how the language of the practice effects me on a physical level.  I am just talking people through the practice in the class.  I very seldom do any of the postures and yet I feel the poses unfolding in my body as I am talking them through.  As though I were teaching from and yet to my own cellular memory of the shapes.  I think that this must be the resonant field of yoga and that the clarity of the alignment creates an energetic effect in the field, not just in ones own body but into the surrounding space and even into one another.  Ha ha ha, um, Shakti?  

Wow.  If you are still reading I am so sorry for this wackado ramble.  But maybe we have circled back around?  To me life of practice means Life Of Practice.  I want to spend my life touching the practice as regularly as I can and living life from the field of that awareness.  If that means less depth is certain areas as time goes on, so be it.  But I am still going to breathe and love myself into as much depth as I can maintaining as much peace and connection as possible. 

details.

Several weeks ago I was emailing back and forth with a woman that I connect with regarding transitioning her kids from compulsory school to home.  This particular correspondence was a little bit more detailed with the nuts and bolts of our content.  There is more to say, of course, especially regarding context, and perhaps I will say it soon here as well.  This is shared here with my friend's permission.

First off, I want to begin by saying that I really do not believe that any one approach to educating kids is in any way superior or inferior to any other.  From what I can tell, kids can thrive or completely languish in any setting, be it public or private school, homeschool or unschooling.  I also think, in many ways, that choosing what works best for the parents is often what works best for the kids. That is not the same as what is easiest for the parents- just best.  Often I think that I live right on the edge of that.  There are times when I very much wish that I could free up some of my time for some other personal pursuit, but at this point in time, that is outweighed by the benefit that I perceive in our homeschooling lifestyle. 

One thing that it is very important to be aware of when moving kids from school to home is the de-conditioning that they need from their lives at school.  I've read and heard a number of folks say that they needed to give their kid quite a bit of unstructured and open time just to make the transition.  Even if a kid didn't particularly like school, they are going to be really quick to say things such as: but at school we did it this (other) way! They really just might fight it.  Even if they were in full agreement with the move home.  So, I think allowing for a period of adjustment is important.  I have heard some folks say that they gave their kids as much as 6 months to settle before beginning any official schooling at home.  That seems like a lot to me, but maybe if you count the summer?  We began in the fall of Maple's 3rd grade year and she had only gone to 1st and 2nd grade- she was home before that- and it took a full year for me to feel like we had settled into anything.  

Like the rest of parenting, support is really key.  Even if it is minimal.  It is epically hard to find secular home schoolers in rural environments, so when you find them- hold on for dear life.  Plus, they need you and your kids as much as you need them and theirs. I have always found that my kids want relationships with kids in which their parents are my friends as well and we can therein create webs of familial community.  

Another piece is that both of my kids are significantly dyslexic.  Maple took a long time learning to read and still has great difficulty with spelling.  Eider is still struggling to learn to read at almost 9.  They have both been seeing an Orton Gillingham tutor for the last 2.5 years and I rely on her immensely in terms of academic support and encouragement.  Often, the bulk of what I work on with the kids for reading, writing, spelling, grammar- all literacy really- comes from her.  

So, we do not use a specific curriculum perse, especially because each of my kids is at such different level in terms of grade and norms and averages and the dread "on track".  I choose to focus mainly on literacy and math because that is what I feel is the most important and that their fluency in those subjects is what will launch them into everything else.  For example, this year Maple expressed a keen interest in history, so I helped her to pick out a bunch of books, some of which we read together and most of which she read on her own.  She also really enjoys listening to podcasts and has a few history ones that she listens to every few days.  

Before I get too far in the direction of particulars, here are a few specific resources that work for us: 

Reading and Writing: Explode the Code- these are great, especially for the younger set.

Kumon Writing books have been great for Maple as have some of the Wordly Wise books for reading comprehension and vocabulary.  

Math: I have liked the Singapore math books up until about 4th grade- at which point I find I need some help explaining things to my kids.  I just bought a year of Math Help- an online curriculum that seems to be going well.  There are lessons and quizzes which my kids really weirdly enjoy.

We haven't done much for science save earth science.  We have a subscription to Tinker Crate thanks to my mom and those are amazing and fun. Our homeschool group does a science fair once a year and as of yet my kids have not expressed a ton of enthusiasm there.  This year the group also put together a geography fair this fall which was fun.

While I'm on the topic of homeschool groups- I have to say this is clutch.  We are a part of a group that has been around a long time and while it isn't necessarily secular- it sees the most involvement from those of us who are.  During the school year we have monthly book clubs for 2 or 3 different levels of reader.  Each facilitated by a parent.  These are amazing ways to connect. We also put together classes with local artisans for the kids.  Most frequently they do fiber arts classes at the local yarn shop because we have a group of very enthusiastic knitters.  We have also done clay classes with the local potter as well as circus classes with the local Circus folks.  A few times a year our group coordinators will organize field trips to different places in the area.  Some unusual places, but mostly very everyday places where the kids get to see behind the scenes.  They love that the most I think.

We live in a small town about 30 minutes outside of Madison and so there a quite a few programs designed for homeschool kids- which, when you think about it, really makes a lot of sense for businesses in terms of filling their school day hours a bit.  

My kids are also a part of a program called Wild Harvest Nature Connection.  They are each in a group with other kids and a couple of mentors and they meet at a local county park for 6 hours once a week.  Rain, snow, sleet or shine they are outside learning outdoor skills as well as managing group dynamics.  This has been big for both of my kids in both amazing and difficult ways.  It gives them a lot of time to navigate social situations and group dynamics in supportive environments.  

Oh god this is long.  And looks like a lot.  But a lot is really not the thing.  If anything, less is the thing.  Don't do everything.  Take your time.  Listen to your gut.  I know I said that kids need to go through a period of de-conditioning, but parents really do too.  We have all been brought up in this culture of compulsory education and it is hard to shed that skin, or even be able to look at it with any objectivity.  Maybe homeschooling will be the right next step for you.  Maybe not.  One thing that always helps me along as a homeschooling mom is to remember that no matter where my kids are in school or by whom they are being taught, at the end of the day it is me and my husband who are accountable to their education.  No one else.

I hope this is helpful!  If you even managed to read this far....  If you have any questions or whatever, please feel free to ask!  I look forward to hearing what unfolds for you.

xxx,m

What's up

For the better part of last October and November I was so weirdly sick that best way I could describe how I was feeling was that my blood felt poisoned. I had felt it coming on for quite some time but hadn't wanted to deal and was just pushing through til the inevitable system failure.  Which I got to.  The depth of it lasted a little over a week, but I couldn't get out of bed for a bit and felt as though I was pinned down by the weight of the universe.  I was getting some help and support from some folks in the healthcare field that I trust and we were weeding some things out and for a while I was functional solely because of a fairly straight forward yet intense lemon and olive oil concoction.  Anyway, I am almost embarrassed to admit what the fix turned out to be.  As a Wisconsinite I should really know better.  But somehow, a little over a year ago or so, I had unconsciously stopped taking the daily Vitamin D that I know is crucial for my mood and wellbeing.  Well, turns out it is an important helpmate for much more than that.  Vitamin D helps our bodies process so much input, from other vitamins and minerals to hormones.  It took only a few weeks of taking a high dose again before I started to feel systemically better than I had in ages with a return to my natural energy levels.  Needless to say, I have been having a somewhat transcendental spiritual experience with Vitamin D.  A rebirth of sorts.  My mind had been very much spinning into a wormhole of chronic and pathological illness.  And now I say: NOT TODAY.

This was the lead up to my 40th, which was for sure not how I had been hoping to pass into the next decade.  But the upswing was great and so far 40 seems cool....  Moving past feeling like shit has been great.  I had time and space to enjoy a pretty leisurely Holiday season with my family.  We kept it super mellow and had a very cozy time with one another and family and friends. 

Maple turned 12 last week and launched us all smack dab into life with a pre-teen.  As ever, she continues to amaze, inspire and challenge me and I just feel so lucky that I get to be close to her and watch her grow.  Eider has a few more weeks as a 9 year old and the combination of the 2 of them and the radical clip that childhood seems to move at does not ever seem to let up.  

So, this is what I am in right now.  A whole lot of gratitude for my life and my people right now.  And right now it is active gratitude which feels so good.  Like thank god really.  Some times it is so fucking hard to connect to the grace and the good fortune of it all, even when you know you should, but right now I got it and I figure I should probably sing it while I do.  

While I'm just singing the love for a minute I really have to say what a beautiful time I have been having teaching.  I have been teaching at The Studio in Madison for 5 years this month and it is really good for me to reflect on how much growth my time there has afforded me as a teacher.  I have met so many folks that have come to mean so much to me and who I have also had the distinct pleasure to watch grow and mature in their endeavors as well.   Anyway, I have been so well supported there and have had so many exciting teaching opportunities provided for me.  I am enjoying it all thoroughly and feel inspired to continue to cultivate a community of practice and wholeness.  

There are a few more update-y type things and gratitude appreciation pieces that I would like to share in this space,  but that will have to wait a little bit.  More soon.

x,m

Rattling around.

....from Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God

You are not surprised by the force of the storm-

you have seen it growing.

The trees flee. Their flight

set the boulevards streaming. And you know:

he whom they flee is the one

you move toward. All your senses

sing him, as you stand at the window.

The weeks stood still in summer.

The trees' blood rose. Now you feel

it wants to sink back

into the source of everything.  You thought

you could trust that power

when you plucked the fruit;

now it becomes a riddle again,

and you again a stranger.

Summer was like your house: you knew

where each thing stood.

Now you must go out into your heart

as onto a vast plain. Now

the immense loneliness begins.

The days go numb, the wind

sucks the world from your senses like withered leaves.

Through the empty branches the sky remains.

It is what you have.

Be earth now, and evensong.

Be the ground lying under that sky. 

Be modest now, like a thing

ripened until it is real, 

so that he who began it all

can feel you when he reaches for you.

Bits of this poem- or rather the tone of this poem- have been rattling around in my head for the past week or so.  I have been trying to take it as slow and easy as I can and really soak up these warm and brilliant fall days.  The long falls that we have been having in the upper midwest the past few years have really allowed for a chance to linger in the light and the brightness of the season before retreating more and more indoors once winter hits.  I have been basking as best I can, drinking in all of the golden light through my eyes, through my skin.

There have been a few things that I have wanted to share as of late.  Some thoughts, ideas explorations.  But all of that was somewhat suddenly put on hold earlier this month when Chris and I lost our health insurance.  We knew that it was coming, so it wasn't a shock per se, I mean it has been shocking but not because it was a surprise...  Chris was promoted earlier in the year so it was only a matter of time before we were bumped off of Medicaid (thankfully not promoted to such a degree that our kids were bumped- they are, thankfully, still covered by the state), and as he is employed by a Canadian company, they are not particularly quick on the uptake in regard to health insurance.  So, it is a godforsaken shit show out there in the health insurance world.  Which I have known, hopefully we have all known, it's just that right now I really know, ya know?  Anyhow, we are insured on a relatively decent plan.  For the small fee of what an airline ticket to someplace amazing would cost.  Every. Single. Month. And good luck getting a 20% coinsurance after deductible to make sense to any rationally minded sane human being.

This is most definitely NOT what I have wanted to talk about.  But, it occupied the very forefront of my attention for every waking and non-waking moment (I mean I dreamt that Chris and the kids and I were being hunted- on foot, sleeping in abandoned houses and scavenging food and destroying all trace of everywhere we had been) until I finally clicked enroll and sealed the deal and like 10 round trip tickets to Bali later.... 

What I wanted to talk about, and really spend more time absorbing and processing in general, was the MovNat weekend workshop that I participated in in Milwaukee at the beginning of this month.  I have been tentatively exploring the world of natural movement for about the last year or so- really since I decided it wouldn't be the end of days for me to explore any type of movement that happened off of my mat.  I met Kellen Milad, a MovNat trainer and coach, last spring and knew right away that I would very much like to learn from him.  He is certainly a beautiful mover, but he also very smart and centered and connected in a way that appeals to the yogi in me- both student and teacher.  And I just really love to be the student of a good teacher, blah blah blah I've said it a million times before.  On this very blog.

So, the weekend was challenging.  Like, very physically difficult.  And then difficult in the ways that come along with that.  My assumptions were checked a bit.  I wasn't as indifferent as I had perhaps hoped to the skills that are out of my range.  But, it was also a blissful weekend.  Which caught me particularly off guard.  In retrospect, I guess it's not really surprising at all that spending large spans of timeand energy engaging play with awareness and attentiveness- while primarily outside- would result in the experience of internal unity, or bliss states.  What I mean by internal unity is an equal engagement of different aspects of self.  Identity parts, as it were.  But also unity between aspects: physical, mental, emotional, spiritual.  

I was exhausted at the end of the weekend.  Physically spent.  And perhaps more than ever before in my life as a person who lives in her body has it ever been so clear to me that my entry point is the body.  That the way for me to connect to my soul has always been primarily through the connection to my physical self piggy-backed right on top of my connection to the physical/natural world.  My body is the earth and the earth is my body and the connected of the two is for me the very gateway to my heart.  And I know that I have always known it but maybe know the thing I feel myself coming to know is that natural movement helps me connect to the animal that is me in the very real world that I live in today.  

Also!  I am feeling so curious and inspired about the way that natural movement can help bridge the gap between the boundless creative playful exploration of childhood and the early adult loss of play and curbing of movements that I certainly know I underwent as a teen.  During that entire dreadful stage of trying to dis-embody.  Did you do that?  I sure did.  And watching Maple in her beautiful, growing, not quite and child's not yet an adult's body grow out of some of her childhood play and the movements that that asked of her- wanting to hang on to that type of freedom and ease and power in her body even as the impulse of that sort of play dissolves.  I think that natural movement has this amazing role to fill here.  Staying in the full range of our physical while transforming our purposeful play of childhood into the purposeful movement of adulthood.

And, hello, I still love yoga.  And I am re-inspired regularly. By friends.  By teachers. By students.  I have cracked into the programs in the back on LOY again for the first time in about 3 years.  Working my way through the intermediate series over the next 6 weeks or so.  Does anyone remember when D had us do the advanced series?  We worked through it over 6 consecutive days at YO....  In like 2004?  He was the only one who could do all of the postures, or maybe even like half of the postures.  I'm sticking with the introductory and intermediate, because hello- 40 in a month and a half and the intermediate course is hard!!! 

Mentor

There is something for me that feels so wholly cleansing about really fessing up to the things that I have fucked up.  Saying it out loud over and over, singing it from the rooftop a bit, helps me to feel somewhat cleansed of my mistake and affords me a sense of beginning anew.

I was a shit homeschool mom last year.  It's ok.  I can claim it.  In fact, claiming it is really the only way that I am able to leave it in the past and move on.  Plus, I'm far enough away from it now that it has become easy to look at.

Every year, our time on Islesford serves as a bit of a mid point pause.  I get a chance to hold still for awhile, breathe deeply, and take a long hard look at where I've come from and a more inspired and visionary look at where I'm headed.  

It wasn't any one thing in particular that set me up to fail.  Rather, it was the perfect storm of many different factors.  All in all, our family has grown and evolved and requires new and different structures from the antiquated ones of the last few years.  We, each of us, need a little bit more space and time to allow for our learning to unfold and develop.  We need to accommodate our curiosity with greater ease and less rigidity.  

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a classic over scheduler.  I have a shit ton of fomo, especially when it comes to my kids childhoods.  And I am a pro at stuffing more activities and commitments into any given day than is either healthy or appropriate.  

I can no longer get by with 2 or 3 hours set aside several days a week to accomplish our homeschooling objectives.  We need large and lengthy swaths of time.  We need to be able to inhabit our learning.  We need to be able to take breaks and then return- without having entirely lost the thread.  We need to have time to recover and reintegrate from our other daily responsibilities and pursuits so that we can approach our learning with inspiration and readiness. 

So we have been restructuring our learning lifestyle.  We have been scaling back on our obligations that take us very far from home and saying yes to staying much more local.  And it feels so good.  The main thing that I generally find myself doing when I am out in the world is simply trying to get back home.  So we have been refining the learning environment that our home space is evolving into.  And, ya'll!  It's just creating more and more clarity and creativity around who we are as learners.  And as teachers.  And as mentors.  

I have always sought out mentors.  In mothering, in making, in being a good partner, and a good teacher and a good student.  I need them.  I want information about where I am headed.  I want to see what has worked for others as well as what has not.  I want, more than anything, guidance and support on the path.

I have tried to instill that value in my kids as well.  I encourage and support them in finding appropriate mentors.  And we have been seriously fortunate in this regard.  When I think about the teachers and mentors that Maple and Eider have in their lives I get more than a little teary.  So very fortunate.  As they say, It takes a village, and I have always been clear that I cannot go it alone.  Not as a parent, not as a learner, not as a teacher.  And that is what mentorship has always seemed to me: the gathering up of the community toward a common aim, a common purpose, a common intention. 

The folks that study with me privately, or really, are in mentorship with me, in turn become mentors of a sort for the folks in public classes.  They are elevated in some senses by the commitment they have made in deepening their relationship to practice and study.  This process thrills me.  The awareness that students bring to the path of practice is endlessly inspiring.  My primary aim as a mentor and teacher is to help people inhabit themselves as authentically as possible and in turn engage the world from that place of connection.  It is not dissimilar to my aim as my children's primary educator...

The page Influences, on this site, is essentially just a compilation of folks that have been mentor to me, and continue to mentor me one way or another.  Learning and teaching.  To me it is fluid, never really a one way relationship, but one that benefits the whole.

Here's to refining approaches.  Reassessing and growing.  As ever, it's a practice.

x,m

In the process.

The very first Iyengar yoga teacher that I ever heard of was Manouso Manos.  I learned his name and began to hear very peripheral anecdotes about him and his teaching from Christina Sell soon after I met her.  She had studied with him for a number of years at that point- ahem, that point being sometime in 2000- and to the best of my knowledge has made a regular effort to study with him on and off since then.  So, we are talking a relatively long span of time.

This weekend, in Milwaukee, I took my first ever workshop with Manouso and I am just gonna say, that waiting almost 20 years to learn from one of my teacher's teachers is one of the stupidest things I have ever done.  Sure, I had a bunch of reasons why- all stupid- but in the end it either boils down to fear or laziness, both rather pathetic excuses.  

Anyhow, I am not sure what to say about the weekend at this point other than that the very first thing that he said when he began on Friday night was, in a loud and rather barky voice: You think you're scared!?! You can't begin to imagine how terrified I am!  

And, well, what can I say?  He is familiar to me.  In the sense that I am more deeply connected, through Christina, to his lineage of teaching than I had any idea of(refer above). Also, and increasingly more profound to me as the years move along, familiar to me in that way of someone who is speaking and acting from such a strong foundation of connection to self that they become simultaneously so fundamentally human and at once other worldly.  

Over the weekend, just about half of our time was spent in the fundamentals of Pranayama. Some of the little gems from that time are offered here:

~ Asana is about health.  Pranayama is about longevity.

~ When we come to Asana practice, all of our strengths are revealed and over time our weaknesses reveal themselves.  In Pranayama, it is the opposite.

~ We can take a still, or make an image of a Posture.  Pranayama cannot be caged like that.

~ In the beginning of a marriage, you hold onto each others hand tightly out of fear of loosing the other; after many years, it has become only the subtlest touch or influence that is needed to indicate direction or draw the other back in.  So light.  Gentle.  Clear.  That is the energy of the seasoned practitioner in pranayama practice. 

There is so much more to say.  And I am eager to explore what I have begun to learn over the weekend. My body is tired, my mind is calm, and my heart is soft.

Other parts of the weekend were equally delightful.  Maple swam in her second meet of the season and did wonderfully.  Both kids spent quality time with their gran while Chris was on the road and I was in Milwaukee.  I was fortunate enough to spend quite a bit of leisure time with my sister in her home city.  Last night we cozied up on her couch and watched Moonlight,  which I have wanted to see ever since I listened to an interview with the director Barry Jenkins on Code Switch several months back.  It was so much more than I had hoped and it feels just right to have watched it with my sis over the Pride weekend.  

I am feeling the love this weekend for sure.  As Teresa from the movie said with such authority and grace: In this house, it's all Love, all Pride.

other way round

I literally never thought about parenting before I had kids.  I never gave a single thought to how I wanted to do things, what my values were, what type of mother I wanted to be.  I never really thought about kids.  It was weird.  It is the one thing that I have always known for my entire life beyond a shadow of a doubt that I wanted to do, to have kids, but I never really thought about it in detail and I certainly never particularly liked kids.  I was a crap babysitter.  I had to watch my younger brother and sister a lot when we were growing up and it is an actual miracle that they made it out unscathed.  I certainly don't think that I ever fed them anything.  Or read to them.  Or played with them.  In fact I am pretty sure that I mostly just did my best to corrupt them.  

I always knew that I would have kids though.  In part, I was raised in that way where that was just the assumption of the natural progression of things.  College, marriage, kids.  It seems so odd to me now in a way, but it really never occurred to me that I would do things any differently when I was growing up.  I was the kid who played with dolls well into puberty to the point of it being a sort of guilty pleasure that lasted through middle school.  A secret pastime.  

Toward the end of college I lived with a guy who really wasn't sure if he wanted to EVER have kids and despite all of the other things that made the two of us not compatible for the long haul, that piece was above and beyond the most crushing.  So when it came to dating Chris, it was clear before we ever even touched that kids were the trajectory.  More for me than any other projected path: career, marriage, all of that was some peripheral vapor that lived outside of my desire to be a mother.  Getting married was Chris' part of the baby-making bargain... he's a smart man.  Or he just knows me really well.  Ok, prolly both. 

So even though I never thought much about it, when we got pregnant I just knew home birth was right for me.  And when Maple was born I just knew that she was going to sleep with us and I knew that I was going to breastfeed on demand.  Forever.  And ever.  Just kidding. But we did co-sleep for like 7 years and I nursed pretty much straight for 6.5 years.  Seemed like forever when it was happening- our bedroom was like an asylum- wall to wall mattresses, on the floor of course. 

I also knew, that being available to my kids was going to be the most important part of parenting for me.  I knew that whatever work that I did separate from them was going to need to take form around that central aspect.  I wasn't waiting for them to get bigger so that they could go back to school and I could go back to work.  I was never under any illusion that parenting was going to get easier as they got older but instead have acted within the belief that as they grow and develop and become things only become more complicated and nuanced and my ability to be present, physically sure, but emotionally and psychically in particular was going to need to increase in accordance.  It is complicated.  And there is no one way.  And the choices that we have made as a family are in no way the appropriate choices for everyone to make.  I know that much of our path has been born out of not just our own sacrifice and compromise, but perhaps most importantly out of our privilege.  

The other morning I was catching up with my longtime teacher and friend.  She has been quite successful in her career and has recently been making the tremendous transition into shifting the shape of her work to support caring for her aging parents.  Her focus and priorities have been changing and the result of that is the unfolding of so much love and the magic of bearing witness to the beauty and grace of holding space with our loved ones.  It is the desire to be with my family these many years that has held my own career aspirations at bay.  There is ebb and flow for sure, times when I can turn more attention outside of the home and then times when I am called back .  My work is in being able to perceive what is being asked of me when....

But here is the big truth for me, the one I have been scratching at for a good long while now: Yoga has not made me a better mom.  It is the other way round.  Being a mother has made me a better yogi.  Mama is the lense through which all other aspects of myself have been transformed.  And while it is not all of who I am, it is the part of me that has been the catalyst for most of my growth as a person.  Not because it has taught me patience- which it has- or because I have learned to sit with discomfort- which is true.  Being a mama has made me a better yogi because it is teaching me to love while letting go.  It has been the daily lessons of unconditional love in the face of imperfection and clumsiness, of shortcomings and foibles.  Of mine and my kids own human awkwardness.  There is that saying that once you become a parent, you transition to having your heart move around outside of your body.  That is true in a whole lot of ways, and especially in the sense that your heart has to grow to accommodate that.  A lot more than just your own kids get contained in that kind of compassion and love. 

While writing this, I have gotten up a dozen times to make breakfast, snuggle, work on math and reading, help feed the bunny, drive to violin lessons, take a walk with my kids, throw frisbee for the dog....  It is how it is.  And in the choice to put family before the other stuff a path has been set.  For me and my work in particular that translates into this: The experience of my students is not worth the price of my absence.  So, if it comes down to that choice, for me it is always clear.  I will get my favorite class subbed in order to pick my kid up from her last Wild Harvest group of the season.  I will teach less classes a week in order to spend mornings one on one with my boy. I rather be at my kids swim meets and soccer games than doing my other work in the world.  Like that.  And while these are always more difficult decisions to make than I would hope, they are always clear.

greening up

After a late winter that languished on for far too long, it finally feels like spring out.  I spent most of the weekend cleaning up in my shed and around my yard and prepping my raised beds for planting.  I love my beds.  And they also make me sad.  Together they take up the same amount of space that I would have planted green beans in my former garden.  I have spent a lot of time here, with this new more limited space having to dig through a lot of "what's the point" sort of feelings and battled some indecision and inertia as a result.  But over the last few years I have shifted to more perennial planting around the yard.  Lots of medicinal flowers and herbs.  Food trees and shrubs.  It is beginning to take on a bit of a permaculture feel and for that I am both thrilled and grateful.  I also signed up for a CSA this year.  For the first time since before I grew enough food for a whole season.  It was a surrender of sorts.  An acquiescence of sorts.  So, this year I will grow greens and herbs in these beds.  And some short season veggies..... maybe.   

The most important piece though, is that I am growing things.  That will become food, that will become medicine, that will become joy for the four of us and some neighborhood kids as well.  The important thing is that my hands are deep in the dirt and that the very ground is becoming a part of who I am.  My breath changes.  My body relaxes.  Even after digging and hauling for several hours.  For really and truly I know of no better way to connect deeply to myself and my sense of place and my sense of purpose than by being in the dirt and life and potential of a piece of land.  Even if it is this small little space I find myself in these days.  The work continues to help me connect to the past, feel into the present, and vision into the future.  

dentist day

I spent some time today driving around in Chris' giant Rocky Mountain Bicycles van and listening to an Indigo Girls album that came out in 1989, when I was the very same age as Maple. I belted the entire thing at the top of my lungs with the windows down and I got out all of the feels.  So many of them are so different now on this side of love with a big mama heart.  My throat is raw and scratchy and it was worth it.  

I was on my own for a patch of the day which is entirely atypical on a Tuesday but the kids had to go to the dentist and I am NOT the parent for that.   Chris holds space for me with this by being the one that holds space for the kids while I retreat into being with myself and working hard to not enter the worm hole in which Eider comes home with 13 cavities and the need for some other oral surgery.  (He came home fine of course, with nary a cavity to be found).  I am ok with not being the parent for that.  Most of the time.  I am not the parent for everything.  Neither is Chris.  And fortunately, we overlap where it matters and compliment each other, also, where it matters.  Not a day goes by that I am not grateful for that.  We have both managed without it at different times, and while doable, it still completely sucked. 

So, I took the rare spot of midday Tuesday time to get a few things done for meg.  I generally practice during that part of this particular day, but had already spent some lovely time on my mat in the Mazomanie circus space while my kids wrapped up their last homeschool circus class of the spring.  It was light filled and lovely and loud with kids being clowns and practicing in silks a floor below me.  It comes as no surprise that we are a family of movers.  That moving through the world inhabiting our physical selves helps us each more fully inhabit our interior terrain.   And in turn helps us show up with a little bit more ease and grace with one another.   Embodied practices give me a leg up when it comes to chilling out a little bit about the dentist and asking for help when I need it....  Anyhow, I was afforded the time to put some attention into a few projects and then take my little guy to violin lessons.  

unravel

Most change happens so slowly that it is hard to notice.  Until, one day, you realize that you are somewhere different from where you were.  Someplace new that you arrived at so slowly that it hardly seems new at all.  Rather it just feels like you, but not the you you knew yourself to be.  For better, and for worse.  Over the past many months, my mind and my body have been unravelling from one another in ways that have been so foreign that they have been hard to perceive.  While my mind has been very busy for the better part of the last couple of years, my body has been quietly calling out for something else. 

A couple of weekends ago, I had a mostly typical for me weekend.  I taught both days, attended a meeting for local activists, took Maple to an art event that she was wanting to attend and parented mostly on my own while Chris was on the road as bike season ramps up.  My mom took the kids on Sunday so that they wouldn't have to be at loose ends while I taught a workshop that day. Her help afforded me a little bit of down time in between events in which I was hoping to catch up on herb study.  However, once I had a moment, I noticed that the live wire feeling that I had been feeling in my body for several days had developed into some hand tremors.  My body has finally over-riden my agenda.  The call has to be heard.  Now.

So I have been trying to adjust.  To modify.  To adapt to this new place I find myself in.  It appears to be a place in which I need more sleep.  A shorter list.  More alone time.  Less car.  I have been considering for a long time the ways in which my practice is in service to my nervous system.  And I have been unlocking a lot of joy and a lot of peace there.  And it is still not enough.  Right now, and maybe always, I want to be considering the ways in which my life needs to be in service to my nervous system.  I need this bundle of loose nerves to come weave itself back into my body in ways that make me feel whole and not frayed.  

Less.  Less.  Less.  I am endeavoring to back off.  And restructure.  So that the places in my life that have my time and have my attention are nourishing.  For the most part.... More than they have been.

This last Sunday was the first Sunday that I had off in a month.  The only thing I had to do was drive my kids and a neighbor to swim practice and then sit and knit and watch them.  It was beautiful all day and I sat outside and read about nervous system herbs California Poppy, Rose and Vervain.  I spent the whole day being a mom and being meg.  It was just right.

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.