Klimt (1918)
In a world that rewards hustle,
rest is a kind of holy defiance.
-Kate Bowler
Come August 1st, I disappear.
A long road trip up north.
Some Vermont hiking.
A pile of books.
Some yoga in Massachusetts.
A long road trip back south.
Then my favorite - a stretch of
solitude and quiet at home.
I'll be thinking of you. I always do.
And after a time of rest,
quiet, introspection, and study,
I'll be ready to join you on the
yoga mat in September.
Find your own riot of rest
where you can as summer
winds down, yogi.
Hope to practice with you
once more in
this last week of July.
I recently read a study that
proved sporadic conversations
with strangers can have
powerful positive effects
upon stress, pessimism, and
emotional resilience.
Rather than head down/phone on,
to stand tall, fully present, and
take in one's surroundings is a
mindfulness practice in itself.
Noticing opportunities to engage
with other humans trains your
brain to scan for connection,
rather than for danger.
This strikes me as rather important
these days. I feel a little ouch every
time someone around me chooses
earphones over roaming free and
well. . . acknowledging my existence.
Social friction is social fitness.
(I read this somewhere.)
Try it. Say something nice to
someone you don't know this
week. They won't be the only
one who suddenly feels good.
Then come to yoga!
I recently read a list of Ten Commandments
that Bertrand Russell wished to promulgate
in his teaching. I think I would do just fine
to try and tackle the first alone.
1. Do not feel absolutely certain of anything.
I am a woman of strong opinions.
I like to know things. I like to feel
like I know things. And also to feel
that I quite understand the why of
what I purport to know.
Growing old. . . or is it up?
or is it out? Maybe all three
- is proving otherwise.
Some of my bedrocks are
shifting. Is it scary? Yes.
But I'd like to let myself flow
a little. Past my sureties.
Beneath my long honed notions.
Over my staid positions that
now look a bit like boulders
I no longer need be tethered to.
Nailed down.
Clinched.
Sewed up.
Sealed.
Instead, I might
loosen my grip a bit to
see what comes.
I think I'll take growth
and uncertainty over
stagnant surety.
I can taste a tiny bit of
transformation here and
there. Me like.
How about you?
Yoga helps.
You've heard the quip
"sitting is the new smoking."
We know moving is good for us.
Our bodies are made for it.
Moving makes us stronger, sleep
better, less anxious and stressed,
boosts immunity, and improves
functioning of all our internal systems.
But, you may ask, what are the
consequences of more sitting?
Buckle up and read on.....
Get a move on, dears.
Take a walk, catch a groove,
play outside, or better yet
do some yoga!
The great Arnold Lobel wrote his
Frog and Toad books in the seventies.
Charming and progressive in that
these two woodland animals were
of the same sex and devoted intimates.
I remember each of the stories
feeling sweet, true, thoughtful
and often poignant. Frog and
Toad often encountered
trying situations, but they could
always rely upon each other.
As a girl,I was delighted by the
muted tones of the illustrations and
the sense of easy going realism.
It was a way of seeing the world
that I later shared with my son.
Lobel's daughter believes creating
these stories was an important part
of her father's emotional processing.
Lobel came out as gay in 1974, four
years after his first Frog and Toad book.
He was 41 years old.
Storytelling is a magical way for us
to see the world through another's eyes.
And honestly, even with stories I dislike,
I come out richer from taking them in.
The more stories let loose in the world,
the richer our understanding, and
the wider our hearts.
Crack one open, yogi.
John Updike in 1962.Credit...Dennis Stock/Magnum Photos
I will try not to panic, to keep
my standard of living modest
and to work steadily, even shyly,
in the spirit of those medieval
carvers who so fondly sculpted
the undersides of choir seats.
— John Updike
I've always loved this photograph
of Updike. He's no longer alive but
he left an astonishing amount of
fiction, poems, essays, and criticism.
I stumbled on this quote from an
old Life magazine, and find it
remarkably relevant to my own life
at present.
Staying steady, attentive, and calm
in our daily lives despite the tumult
around us is a good prescription.
But it's the idea of focused artistry,
which may never even be
glimpsed by others that I find
most inspiring.
Whether it's the way you wield
a knife in preparing a meal,
enjoying the feel and furl of
a proper lead pencil upon
a simple shopping list,
or crafting your yoga asana
when alone and reaching for
the sky or earth.
Purpose and beauty
in the little things
can nurture you.
It's more powerful and immediate
than the clamor outside.
Make it so.
Thich Nhat Hanh wrote in his
book The World We Have:
"So many beings in the universe
love us unconditionally. A bird song
can express joy, beauty, and purity,
and evoke in us vitality and love.
The trees, the water, and the air don't
ask anything of us; they just love us.
Even though we need this kind of love,
we continue to destroy these things.
We should try our best to do the
least harm to all living creatures.”
We're approaching the summer solstice
-a splendid opportunity to feel our
deep connection to our spinning earth.
We might pause on the longest day
of the year, a threshold into summer,
to consider how the entire universe
offers itself to us again and again
with no expectation of reciprocity.
But what an opportunity to begin
to nurture a reciprocal relationship.
What might that look like for you?
Thich Nhat Hanh is right.
Non-harming - Ahimsa,
one of yoga's ethical principles -
is the least we can offer to
the wonders around us.
And to ourselves each time
we step on the yoga mat.
Goyō Hashiguchi
Yesterday, I heard someone say
"Oh, you realized you're a leaf.
Just, you know, a small leaf on
an enormous tree." There was
a sparkle in her voice when she said it.
It stopped me in my tracks. And I
realized that's exactly what I am too.
Just a single leaf.
But part of a bigger ecosystem - my East
Nashville neighborhood, my yoga tribe,
my family - generations back and forward.
It kind of takes the pressure off.
And makes me feel part of something
bigger, wiser, more substantial than myself.
And I can trust the deep intelligence that
knits us all together, that keeps the
planet spinning........ ah, a big exhale.
And you?
You're doing just fine too, little leaf.
Let's come together for yoga.
Yoga changes your brain.
Neuroscientist Claudia Metzler-Baddeley
has noted that yoga practitioners
show marked differences in their
brains - not only an increase in
grey matter (!) but changes in
neurological networks that inform
metacognition, meta-awareness
and stress regulation.
I feel proud of my yoga brain
just reading this!
Much research shows changes
in actual structure and function,
with potential to mitigate age
related neurological decline.
It makes sense. I mean yoga
absolutely changes structure
and function of our skeletal,
muscular and nervous systems.
I'll take it all, please.
Thank you.
You too?
Come to yoga this week!
Jan Toorop (1896)
"I'm going to try to pay attention to the spring.
I'm going to look around at all the flowers,
and look up at the hectic trees.
I'm going to close my eyes and listen."
-Anne Lamott
All this rising prana coming up
through the earth, manifesting
in color and shape and form
is the best of contagions.
I'm learning (okay, trying)
to get quiet enough to notice
this all around me and invite
these energies into my own system.
Sitting next to a plant sir or madam
who is happy to share with me
if I only take the time to connect.
Plants are the most generous
things in the world it seems.
It's just a matter of me dialing
down my epic speed to that
of a wafting dandelion spore.
A valiant effort methinks.
Find your own slowing down
this week, friend.
See you on the yoga mat.