Moving On & Starting Out

Posted on December 28, 2010 by Emily

I finished my very first 200-hour teacher training.

The time we had together as a class was concluded in four beautiful days on the shore of Lake Tahoe. We practiced, meditated, ate, slept, laughed, and danced together for four beautiful days.

I learned a very important lesson: never leave your meditation cushion at home when you go on a retreat. I mean, put it in the car first thing and check at least three times that it’s there. There was a lot of meditating and it really wrecked my body to sit on a block and blanket. I left that experience with a tremendous amount of compassion for those who come to the mat in pain and have further first-hand experience in the healing power of yoga – as in breath, movement, compassion.

Without disclosing all that happened….these images sum it up:

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Some of the most beautiful moments of my entire life.

I found myself further along in the foggy field. Some shapes came into focus, some things that looked interesting from afar turned out to be not what I thought when I got close, somethings that looked uninteresting turned out to be more than appeared in the fog, and I realized this path I’m on doesn’t end with one 200-hour training in Lake Tahoe.

I am grateful.

I drove home, down the mountain with a blessing infused with Ganesh from my teachers. Taking on obstacles with a piece of string around my wrist, calling out, “By the power of Ganesh!” like a superpower force of good, here I go into the world.

I finished my papers, finished my dvd, dropped it all in the mail, and am waiting for the certificate to send into Yoga Alliance to become RYT-200.

~~Even better: I have a teaching gig and a mentor. I am still completely blown away by this gift. I start teaching two classes a week next week.~~ I have a healthy mix of excitement and irrational terror in me. What a gift! ed. note 1.14.11

2011 is looking mighty fine.

I had a really powerful dream the other night. I’m sure it was inspired by the fact we watched a PBS documentary about Buddha and the dream featured one of my favorite bands, but it’s still really powerful.

In my dream, I was in an oceanside town rocking out with Gogol Bordello. I was on stage with Eugene Hutz singing this song to a room of people sitting at banquet tables:

After hanging out with Eugene, I went off by myself and started to compose a song. As I worked through the song, this beautiful creation came into being. I realized it was a song that could teach us all how to be a Buddha. I went out to teach it to other people. As soon as I shared it, the song turned into a simple, beautiful inhale and exhale. I woke up breathing really deeply with these words echoing in my ears:

Revolution is internal
Evolution isn’t over, isn’t over
I’m walking in the balance
I’m ready, ready to uncover

Evolution is preparing
all of us maximum surprise
So rise, whoa, the knowledge
Rise the knowledge rise
Rise the knowledge rise

more lyrics here….

There it was, in a dream, my journey from poet to musician to yoga teacher. So that’s what I’m going to do, try to remember the song and share it however I can, one breath at a time.

The Pacer

Posted on December 7, 2010 by Emily

To graduate from teacher training, we have to turn in a DVD of us teaching a 60-minute class from a specific 75-minute flow and theme around it. Also – we’re not “allowed” to play music or assist. I decided to get take one out of the way before our final retreat. Last night, five friends came over for a 60-minute class. I love having people over to our home and it meant a lot to me, so I turned my mantle into a little altar (well, I already consider it an altar of sorts) to make a welcoming, sacred space for practicing.

I live in a house that is tiny by many standards – it was built in 1916, before people “needed” a lot of stuff. I removed all the furniture from the living room & dining room, worked with my friends to figure out the best set-up for practicing (my petite friend was underneath the light fixture in the dining room – she was literally reaching for the sun in some poses), and proceeded on a hilarious 15-minute search for the right camera angle to record the class – those gorgeous built-ins kept getting in the way. The shot we got was great. I am really happy with my timing, the flow and theme. It was really hard for me to not touch the students at all – made me feel like there was a wall up. Everyone worked up a sweat and had a beautiful savasana (screw the rules, they each got a savasana assist – I had to thank them for their amazing energy and willingness to share their evening with me). Namaste happened at 00:58:45. I made everyone dinner and it was so great to share a meal with my new friends outside of the studio. My dog was in heaven getting so much attention.

I sat down after they were gone to watch my video, covered my eyes, and eventually started to laugh. The girl on the video made me dizzy walking circles around her students and, wow, she has a really weird walk. (No wonder people ask her sometimes, “Are you limping?” I mean, wtf is going on with her? Thanks, genetics, for these effed up knees of mine.) When she stood still, her voice and connection with the students was great. Then she’d just start walking again even while I told this girl on the screen, “Stop walking circles! Ground yourself! Hold the space!”

I have a DVD for graduation that is fine, but I am going to shoot it again. I didn’t put expectations on myself to have a perfect video last night and have no expectation for shoot number two to be perfect, either. The best part was having friends over to share a practice and meal in my home.

The one thing I know from watching this is that I need to keep teaching to get closer to let my inner teacher out to play. She gets stronger each time.

Hello, Teacher

Posted on December 1, 2010 by Emily

I had my first experience feeling like a real yoga teacher on Sunday.

After my experience of having yoga-teacher-ADD in teacher training, (it was like I needed to get a TUI, teaching under the influence), I had a come to Jesus discussion with myself about teaching. I wrote myself a letter, giving me permission to be myself.

I showed up to teach a donation class on Sunday with my friend who is also in teacher training. I’m used to teaching other teachers and experienced students. I realized, with the first move from downdog to ragdoll, that maybe 3 people in the class had more than 5 yoga classes before walking in the door, including a hearing-impaired woman whose hearing aid went out halfway through class. I immediately threw my script out the window, adjusted my plan for the class, got myself out of the way, and taught for the students. Did I mess up? Yes, but I recovered and the students had no idea. Smoothly transitioned to the other teacher for the second half. It was fun for both fellow teachers and new students, it ran on time, everyone broke a sweat as well as a smile, and after class, people asked me where I will be teaching next.

I had my “well hello there, teacher” moment. Believe me, I’m sure there will be plenty more, “omg, you call yourself a teacher?” moments, but I need those moments to really appreciate the good ones.

I’ve been telling a story in hips throughout my training from one of my favorite books, Geography of Bliss. Well, you’ll have to take one of my classes to hear the whole thing, but part of the story is that Eric Weiner meets with a man named Karma in Bhutan who looks at all of his successes and failures with the same insignificance. That’s right: insignificance. I finally started listening to my own story.

God laughs when you make plans

Posted on September 16, 2010 by Emily

Teacher training starts tonight and I am going into it completely humbled already. My girlfriends and I were joking last week about taking bets on who will cry first in teacher training. It still might be me, but God keeps giving me the giggles…

I had a sh*t ton of paperwork that I absolutely loathe last Thursday and I think the ergo issues messed up my lower shoulder/back. (I have to fill out an alcohol permit for every single show we do at work. I had to sign over 100 in a day. Is this a college in California or a dry county in the bible belt?) I’m finally going to get an ergo evaluation at work. I backed off my yoga practice, took it super easy on my right side. I didn’t practice Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday – after work it is the worst. I assisted last night and focused on breathing behind my heart while helping in class and went home for a super mellow home practice – gentle shoulder and heart openers, lots more breath. Arnica and china gel are reluctantly my two bffs right now…

My husband has been commuting to the Bay Area for the past six months and today is his last day to make the drive. He wakes up really early and leaves the house by 6:00 a.m. I made peace with my shoulder situation this morning (whew, I’m in long meetings all day) and carefully checked my purse before leaving for work to make sure I have everything [I think] I need: iPhone, iPod (yes, I am under the silly yet strong impression that I need both), earbuds, wallet, arnica gel, journal, pen, Tide to go, lip balm,lipstick, book for teacher training, stick figure series to review for teacher training when I get breaks, Hafiz book (why not?), water bottle. I’m good, I’m set, I’m out the door with a plan on how to get to 6:00 at the studio.

I find the other car in the driveway. My mat bag is sitting in San Ramon in the trunk of the car I took last night.Since I decided not to stay and practice, I totally forgot to get it out and didn’t check with him this morning on which car he was taking. I don’t think he’ll be back before I have to leave for the studio. I am left with my lovely red Jade mat that I accidentally left out in the sun this summer, left with the reminder that thoughtlessness led to what felt like the frying of one of my best friends. I’ve been borrowing his since the incident and now I can either use the fried mat or finally bit the bullet and get that Manduka I’ve been making eyes at across the crowded room before each practice.

So, on this first day of teacher training, I would like to tell the universe that I officially surrender. I give up! I know I am not in control. God, I hear you laughing at all my plans and preparations and have decided to laugh with you until the tears run down my cheeks.

Read Play Work

Posted on September 2, 2010 by Emily

I recently got a series of packages dropped on my front porch. It’s like a birthday party in the mail I’m throwing for myself.

I work with a series of speakers and always get their books before the season starts to get to know them (and, I admit, add to my collection of signed books, CDs, and records from artists I’ve worked with). On the right in my shaky iPhone photo below, you’ll see work books – Daniel Handler, Jonah Lehrer, David Sedaris, Madeline Albright….and I put Alex Ross the Rest is Noise in the “work” mix, but I’m not working with him, I’m going to see him at another venue. (Side note: I love his blog and, oh my goodness, I adore this book.) These are books that are reminding me of the good things in work right now, why I got into this crazy business to begin with.

On the left is my small but growing yoga library. I got the Yoga Sutras translated by Sri Swami Satchidananda (yes, the cover reminds me of an early childhood experience, but I’m working on it), Baron Baptiste’s Journey Into Power, and Sharon Gannon & David Life’s Jivamukti Yoga on recommendation from the teacher training program. From my own collection is Cyndi Lee’s really fun book Yoga Body, Buddha Mind, Rolf Gates‘ Meditations from the Mat (another book I adore), Leslie Kaminoff’s Yoga Anatomy, and Stephen Mitchell’s translation of the Bhagavad Gita. On top is a little book of Hafiz poetry translated by Daniel Ladinsky called I Heard God Laughing – when I was ordering the first three books, I treated myself to this beautiful little volume and have been taking a moment to spend time with these absolutely beautiful poems each morning this week.

Yes, it’s exciting, but damn that’s a lot of books! I have the best of intentions, but I don’t think I’ll be able to finish Madame Secretary’s book by the end of September. I didn’t even put the Omnipotent Oom in the mix, which I’m almost done with (Alex Ross distracted me and I’ve been spending my reading time saying things out loud to no one in particular like, “Wow, Arnold Schoenberg must have been such a prick!”)

I also have some homework to prepare for teacher training, which starts in two weeks. I’m waiting to pick up a book from the studio next week and got a sequence via email to start to learn. My husband has been out of town this week and my evenings have consisted of yoga practice followed by quiet time reading from the stacks and studying the foundation sequence. I got Cyndi Lee’s book when I first started my yoga practice and loved the way she uses stick figures in the back of her book for sequences. When I saw the two-page list of poses to learn, I just saw it in notation. I’m sketching it out and walking around the house talking to my dog, “Stand up tall on the inhale, dive down into a forward fold on the exhale…” Here’s what I started:

I have a little notebook that I’m sketching out the sequences and, yes, those are repeat signs. I started putting fermatas on top of the poses that you hold for 5-10 breaths and am finding this really dorky mash-up of yoga and music notation evolving in my study. I’m composing! I have a podcast I need to listen to and notate, so I guess my ear training from college will come in handy.

I am so ready for this – I am excited, inspired, and a little scared which is an amazing mix of emotions. I keep thinking about the second part of Baron Baptiste’s 40 day transformation (not pictured above): Be willing to come apart. I recently opened the book up for the first time since I went through the 40 day process and found I had marked this passage on page 9:

The truth is that we are not stable, but the Tao is. Trying to control all the instability and uncertainty of life is crazy-making and exhausting, and it creates disease. No matter what the circumstances happen to be, the way of the universe is for all things to move in the direction of healing, that is, wholeness. The body wants to heal itself, our emotional body is seeking balance, out spirit wants redemption; however, we need to get ourselves out of the way in order for our natural health to shine through. We need to totally lose control, and this scares the heaven out of us.

and this passage on page 10

In our lives, like in our bodies, if we refuse to give up control, life will eventually do it for us. Controlling the flow of life is like setting up a dam: All the flow stops, and it builds up with pressure. Finally it breaks and brings us to our knees, and we hit a crisis. Crisis can be a call to spiritual rebirth. We get sick, lose our jobs or someone close to us, or experience a clear and painful moment seeing something about ourselves, and suddenly the ice around our heart breaks. At the crossroads we can shut down and get resentful, or we can break up, break with, and break through to new ground. This point at the crossroads is a spiritual test.

So here I go. I’m committed and open to getting my ass kicked and my heart busted open. The most exciting part: I have a tight community of amazing friends I’ve made through yoga who are going to be right next to me boldly going where none of us have gone before. Bring it!

O life, I’m coming at you like a flashflood

Posted on July 20, 2010 by Emily

I am incredibly inspired today after reading an article by Hilary Lindsay called The Water’s On Fire.

Here’s my favorite part:

I called on water to help me wash seeds of discontent away like the flood took the seeds in my garden. I won’t go with the flow. I am the flow, the torrent, the surging, roiling, tremendous flood waters. I am sweeping away this disappointment. I am sweeping away self-doubt. I am clearing, shoving, throwing, smashing, rolling and flowing. I am a forward pressing force of nature. No prisoners. Intruders to my well-being are being banished to dissolve. I am pulling my obstacles down with the undertow of my passion and I am being released above into the sunlit sparkles of gentle ripples of self love and light.

I’m a water sign – as Pisces as they come I’ve been told, but gotten much more grounded over the past 10 years. Water is a big theme in my dreams. I have recurring dreams about huge ocean waves that I am running away from and delicious dreams about swimming in rivers and streams where I become the current and go to the most beautiful places. There are lots of repeat places I go – a beach house nestled in the pink and orange flowers, a lake house with an empty room on the second floor that opens up to a narrow balcony, a waterfall at the end of a river that spills out into a deep swimming hole, a city on an ocean where I can go swimming in beautiful blue waters and drive along the coast, and a place in the Northwest of a dream country where I can sit and smell the salt air.

This article has me looking at all the water in my subconscious in a different way. All the pieces were there for me and I think I just got a glimpse of the whole beautiful picture.

It also reminded me of the last time I saw Tori Amos sing Precious Things. I don’t listen to the album it’s on anymore and felt I had grown out of the song. Then, to my surprise, I felt relief and incredible joy. It’s not about the beautiful Christian boys or the girls with fascist panties, it’s about renunciation “These precious things, let them bleed, let them wash away.” I’ve spent almost 20 years with that song and finally understand it.

I’ve been adaptable like water but through yoga have been backing up my flexibility with strength both on and off the mat. I’ve let things wash away, but I’ve dropped more things off the dock and let them lie glimmering underneath the surface. It’s time I take on that tidal wave that haunts my dreams – maybe it will back down, maybe I will swim with it, and maybe it will sweep me off to a new place. It’s time to channel all that water in my soul like a flash flood and take out the obstacles and distractions. It’s time to listen to my dreams when I become the current and swim deliciously through this life.

She’s right: It’s not enough to just let go. You have to wash it away, too.

unfolding: bloom where you’re planted

Posted on June 25, 2010 by Emily

21.5.800 post talked about unfolding.

I got a postcard in the mail this week. It was folded in two and taped together. The return address was from my childhood church in Tennessee with my current address in California handwritten on the outside. I unfolded the postcard and found a notice to nonresident members for an out-of-town audit. There were two options on the card: check here if membership is still with this church or check here: I have transferred to ____ Church. I smiled when I opened this. This woman always finds my address – every other year, I find a newsletter in my mailbox. I moved away in 1995 when I went to college and moved to the West coast in 1999. It’s 2010.

When I went back a few years ago for my grandfather’s funeral, she found me in the reception and asked, “Do you want to move your membership to another church? When you do, let me know which church so I can transfer you.” I was in the middle of a packed room surrounded by my family, old neighbors, and people in the church who loved my grandfather. I remembered my grandmother saying, “Did you hear Mr. White died? He never went to church, but he was so nice. I wonder what happened to him. I would just hate for him not to go to heaven. I wish he had gone to church.”

I responded as honestly as I could: “I don’t really have a church.” She told me, “Then we’ll keep you here until you find a new church, you just let me know when you find one.”

I felt so silly. Though I felt fine about my spiritual path, I had a moment where I hesitated to out myself as a non-Christian in front of family and the church community. Didn’t they see me not say the Nicene Creed during the service? And, really, Emily, do you think they would care that much? Mr. White didn’t go to church and people still thought he was nice.

When I was a kid, I was at church two or three times a week. As a teen, though, I felt an unsettling call I could not ignore. I went on a retreat in North Carolina and took a night hike (hiking in the dark, no flashlight, no talking). I sat on a mountaintop listening to the wind in the pines and, though it was cold, felt an incredibly warm love surround me. Months later, I was missing this love and wondering where it had gone. God came to me in a very vivid moment and let go of my hand.

I stopped going to church, which did not go over well with my family. I was scared, angry, lonely, and stubborn for years. I hardened my heart and went into a protective mode. I collected inspiration and stories from different faiths, art, music, literature, poetry, to try to break the shell and find that love. I was lost and looking for the way home.

Who, if I cried out, would hear me among the angels’
hierarchies? and even if one of them pressed me
suddenly against his heart: I would be consumed
in that overwhelming existence. For beauty is nothing
but the beginning of terror, which we are still just able to endure,
and we are so awed because it serenely disdains
to annihilate us. Every angel is terrifying.

- from The First Elegy, Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke translated by Stephen Mitchell

I finally came to a place of reconciliation and peace. Over the years, I had been stuffing a suitcase in my psyche with experiences, reactions, and teachings while wandering through the wilderness. I finally found a place in my heart to unpack and unfold all these things I had been carrying for so long. Some I could discard, others I had to clean, some I thought I had lost but were actually there all along, buried deep. I arranged them all and made a home.

Through disciplined yoga practice and further spiritual study, I felt my heart ripping open and discovered a deep emotional and spiritual surrender. One day in savasana, after about three months of regular practice of 3-5 times a week, I felt the presence of love that I felt on that mountaintop in the pines. It whispered in my ear: god is love.

Now I get it. God is Love.

In that moment, I knew that it never left me. Quite the opposite, God/Love let go of my hand so I would learn how to walk on my own. We’ve been walking together, side by side, all along. I felt tremendous relief and happiness upon that realization. I still stray off the path or and get distracted in the fog, but I have faith that love will always be there for me. All I have to do is reach out my hand or call out for help and love is there. My heart unfolds more each day.

This is by no means a unique story. Knowing it’s not unique is very comforting. What makes this ordinary story extraordinary is a foundation of a spiritual community.

When I unfolded that post card from church this week, it wasn’t just where I am on my spiritual path but something she wrote that made me smile and respond that she can finally take me off the mailing list.

“You will not find another [Church like this one], but as I like to say, “Bloom where you are planted.”

So let’s get planted, even if your physical address changes every other month. Let’s bloom. Let’s unfold together.

Namaste.

intermission

Posted on June 17, 2010 by Emily

Ladies and gentlemen, my writing continues but my publishing will take a short break. I’m going to the coast with my friends, my mat, and no internets.

As cross-posted on my faceplace:
this week in yoga: finished assisting training, signed up for 200-hour teacher training, wrote 800 words a day in the first week of the 21.5.800 yoga/writing challenge out there on the internets, went to a great yin class, read chapter 4 of the BG, hugged lots of great people, breathed deeply and laughed a lot. What an amazing community! On a related note, my husband is an amazing and wonderful man to support me through all of it and for letting me practice sweet savasana assists on him. Whew. I’m going to the beach.

yay, a new endeavor

Posted on June 8, 2010 by Emily

I’ve been thinking about writing more lately and tying it into my yoga journey. Seems like others were thinking the same thing as I found this great writing challenge from Bindu Wiles via elephant journal. The challenge is to write 800 words a day and practice yoga five times a week.

My name is Emily and I am a recovering classical musician. I work in the arts on the admin side, tempering the worlds of artists, managers, donors, and patrons in a role I like to call “Interpreter of Rationalities.” After some bad first impressions and some forgettable years of flirting, I really got to know yoga in 2009. I am a person who needs to practice a discipline. When I came to the practice in 2009, I was at a crossroads in my life where I didn’t know what to do – I was lost without a creative outlet and a very vague spiritual practice. In my life I had a choice: would I choose love or would I choose fear that kind of looked like love? Yoga gave me the clarity, honesty, and strength to actively choose love. When I saw yoga in its entirety, I realized I had been looking for spiritual and creative outlets in separate places for a long time, yet here they were on one path. I found a physical practice that helps me learn to be mindful of everything, the good as well as the painful, and gives me some powerful (sometimes ridiculously obvious) metaphors to help me live a good life off the mat. I found the freedom to laugh at myself when I fall or get tangled up and take myself too seriously. I found the breath work and discipline I miss from playing music. I found brief encounters with that still place between action and reaction in meditation. I found a spiritual discipline that is beautiful and challenging without being dogmatic. All on one path, there is incredible community, more challenge, and more fun than I ever imagined!

Yoga shows me every day how important it is to love selflessly – that love is not easy but it is everything. Then, yoga shows me how to love myself and others.

So here I am with a big “YAY!” diving into this endeavor, adding it to the discipline of my practice. Let’s see what happens.

The World To Come performed by Maya Beiser

yay

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