Move, Breathe, Be Free

I'm taking a yoga teacher training that's, well, much more demanding and intense than I'd imagined. I'm truly enjoying it, and when I say demanding and intense, I don't mean to conjure up the idea of a dry teacher forcing us into pretzel poses. We've got reading/writing homework, a service project, long training weekends, weekly classes, daily meditations and movement series to create, etc. And, mostly, there's breathwork. Breathwork that slows you down, that takes you into yourself. It helps to guide you to your wholeness, your sense of strength or God or whatever you wanna call it.

While I'm just now taking this yoga training, I've been teaching movement for 10+ years and taking/teaching yoga for about four years. More and more so, when beginning with a new client, I suggest working on a little breathwork at first. Sometimes clients jump aboard, and tears flow or inspiration hits. Sometimes folks are too antsy, or sometimes it just feels weird and unnatural to practice breathing. And, sometimes breathing makes us feel. A lot. Sometimes too much. Or so we think.

That's why my yoga training can be so much work! It slows me down and the feelings can overflow! Breathing makes you feel - ecstatic, light, joyful, grateful. It can also bring up the typical so-called yuck - fear, sadness, anger, guilt, worry. Basically, breathing brings up your truth, so it's an ongoing process. One that takes work for me Every Single Day.

I'm not a personal trainer to "kick someone's ass" or take away the jiggle. I'm motivated by a) my ongoing personal experience of finding truth within my body, and b) the little bits and huge leaps of transformation that happen when someone connects with her body, her breath and her spirit - and essentially something Greater than herself.

So, despite what the breathwork and the connection that follows might bring up for someone (though I can guarantee you it can be juicy, sometimes scary, and mostly lovely in a life-changing way), my wish is for people to find movement they enjoy; then sure, complement and support that favorite movement with other types of physical training.

Move to feel good. Don't exercise to "get it over with" or to "mark it off your list". Practice joy within movement. Practice staying present. Practice slowing down. Practice stillness. Practice making movement (or stillness) as a way to connect with your innermost sense of being alive and free.

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It's Never About Food - It's an Inside Job

If you're the least bit interested in transforming your relationship to food, your body and your self, check out the following clip of Geneen and Annie Lamott. It's not about food, it's never been about food. It's an inside job. Enjoy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HUl5eyljR0

Rest in Peace, City and Chloe

Writing helps to ground me. If you're into chakras, you'll know what I mean when I say I'm a root chakra kind of gal. I need rooting, grounding, nesting. I need the security of feeling strong and centered before moving forward. When I got engaged last year, I started a diary for my husband-to-be, and I told him if I get crabby or moody or crazy, to tell me to write. The other day, he told me to write.

You get my drift, huh? I've been working like a madwoman, which is not a terrible problem to have, but until the writing and rooting began again, I was forgetting about myself. And, I was forgetting about my husband, my family, myself. It's easy to give and give and give - and do and do and do - but, as I've learned lately, sometimes it's hard to give back to me.

A great teacher said on Friday "drink while you pour". Receive while you give. It's possible. It's not noble to give unconditional love to everyone else if you can't give it to yourself. I've been thinking about unconditional love lately. You might remember a while ago I wrote that our five-year-old cat and five-year-old dog had lymphoma. With this experience, I was reminded of how animals brings us back to unconditional love. Without further ado, I'd love to share how each of these beings below teach us about love.



With the intention of being grateful for what I've still got, first and foremost, here's our Easter Bunny Bowden. I took this photo 20 minutes ago before I wrote this blog entry. He refused to look at the camera, he hated the pink egg, he dared me to walk into the other room while he sniffed the Reese peanut butter eggs. We call him our Lone Ranger. Our Stoner Dog. Except for his stiff shoulders and lack of ability to do down dog, he's actually a very good yogi - he practices detachment very nicely, he eats what he wants when he wants (surprisingly, I know, it's not very much), he meditates outside a dozen times a day staring off into space not blinking an eye, and he regularly chants with his neighbors. About the unconditional love - I love our Bow-Bow. All of him - the chunks of fur that he constantly leaves in the house during shedding season, the way he gingerly takes treats from our hands, the Monday morning barking at the garbage truck backing into our driveway, and even the way he completely ignores his mom (moi) but obediently greets his dad every evening. He's our man. And now, pretty much our rock.

City the Kitty. Like anyone who owns a pet might say, this wasn't any ole cat. She was my baby. She slept with me for almost five years, she greeted me like a dog by rolling over on her back, she loved drinking water from my glass instead of her own (no, I did not drink after her - I realize how cats bathe), she loved all adults but was scared s***less of my niece and nephew (little people look weird, okay?), and despite the hisses and sharp slaps, I believe she started a secret friendship with our dog, Chloe, toward the end of her sweet life. City the Kitty went to heaven three weeks ago today. The cancer *almost* got the best of her, and we decided to let her go peacefully when she let us know it was time.

Chloe. Miss Chloe-Glowy. If you've seen Marley and Me, you know Chloe. I'm sure my husband didn't think she was a "Marley" - but I'll be really honest here, and it might be TMI for my blog, but I don't care. She loved my underwear. And my socks. And my workout gloves. And my clean, unused toilet paper on the roll. If I didn't accidentally leave underwear, socks or gloves where she could find them, she'd just take a big chunk out of the roll usually spreading the toilet paper throughout my bathroom. Then, why not, she'd just dip into my trashcan too and spread it throughout the hallway. Ask my husband, she got into something every single day. She was no dummy, she'd find something. Despite her love to tear my underwear to shreds, I loved this dog. I could say NO to her 40 times a day, and that tail would continue to wag so much I thought she was surely bruising herself while slapping it against the floor or wall. She was very codependent, very needy, very sly but also very cute and so full of love that I didn't realize how much love was in this house until she was actually gone. We had to let her go yesterday morning. Easter Morning. What a way to celebrate Life. Chloe-Glowy joined City the Kitty - I imagine them smelling each other, still feeling each other out but becoming fast friends in the gates of Bliss.

Or, perhaps they'll be reincarnated. Who really knows. The heaps of love we experienced outweighed the waves of frustration trying to merge a household of two carnivorous dogs and one often-pissy cat. And, I learned that if I could love those animals wholeheartedly - their idiosyncrasies along with their wagging tails and soft fur - and if they could love my husband and me back with that much love - then certainly that love goes on in many forms.

I guess I write this to help myself grieve, to maybe connect with someone else through these words who has experienced the same thing. More so, I want us to treat each other kindly. I want us to treat each other like we do our pets. Sure, we can have boundaries, and we don't have to let people drink out of our water glasses or wear our underwear. But, let's be kind, let's give each other a chance. Let's forgo the fluff and have real conversations, let's forgive, and let's let each other be. (Bowden, Mr. Detachment himself wrote that last phrase.)

More importantly, before one can do any of that, let's give back to ourselves. Let us pay attention to our own needs for time and space and sunshine. Let's give ourselves a break. And, for the sake of circling back to this blog's "FLOW", let's treat ourselves to a freaking cookie or two without counting the blasted calories. Let's move freely to feel our life force (aka "aliveness") versus a way to stay small and invisible (and quite frankly, dead). Let's tune into our hearts and nourish ourselves in authentic ways. Keep it simple - Be Real, Love and Breathe.

Rest in Peace, City and Chloe.