Midline work

Can you be in midline? Why would you want that? Let’s imagine the opposite . . .

You’re jumpy, up and down, flitting from one room to another, one activity to another. You’re over caffeinated, hungry and running late.

Coming center is vey different. It grounds your body in space. It settles your mind on one action at a time. Practice this week helped us find center and be fortified.

Take your right foot over your left knee. Stretch your arms forward to fully arrive in standing pigeon. Trace midline with care as you lift your right foot and take it straight back in space to your right hand. The bottom leg strong and supportive. Your heart open and clear. Your right arm reaching forward. Dancer pose. You wobble but you maintain the support of center and you’re free.

Mountain pose brings you to home base. Balanced front to back, side to side. You take a vinyasa, stretch deeply into down dog. A weight clunks in the room above you. Someone coughs and another student rustles and leaves early. External stimulus everywhere. Moving center fortifies you.

Another deep breath and you watch your teacher demonstrate bird of paradise pose. Class has opened your shoulders and hamstrings; your breath is deep; your body is warm.

This moment, this pose we put it all together. A bind or a fish hook. Weight into your left foot. Float the right foot and then EVERYTHING hugs into center . . . your hips, your mind, your legs. Base foot wide and stable. The deep breath of other yogis pulsing through the room like a low, deep drumming.

You stand all the way up. You straighten your right leg and move your shoulders back, thinking of a bright orange bird of paradise flower and you smile.

See yourself moving through your practice, your day from midline. Namaste, Lynn

Trust

The last two classes offered complimentary themes. Last week was “non-attached enjoyment”. Lending ourselves to the flow without trying to get it to bend to us. Like the elasticity of bamboo. Forgiving.

I’m a planner. So, if you are too, just breathe. Without a plan or guide, can we lend ourselves to the delight that comes from not knowing? Dare I say we’ve entered the territory of trust. Trust sounds so sweet & simple, yet there’s a depth and skill to trust.

We show up for yoga. We trust our breath. Our body creaks and resists. Why oh why didn’t I linger over that second cup of coffee? Please, no arm balances today! Practice deepens. Down dog and forward fold open tight hamstrings. Cobra stretches the belly in the most necessary way. A smile crosses your face. Wow, 30 minutes have already passed.

Maybe your inner knee hurts a touch today. A choice to make . . . skip tree pose? Your ego wants to keep up with the class, but a deeper impulse drives you to back off. Trust ignited. You remember your teacher intimate that yoga is a self-care practice, a mindfulness practice. Instead you choose forearm plank, trusting the energy that comes from igniting your core.

Back to the inner control freaks and planners inside of us . . . trust can come from letting someone help you. You don’t have to do it all yourself for it to get done right. The richness of collaboration may loosen the grip and open reservoirs of ease. Namaste, Lynn

Non-attached enjoyment

I step on the mat. Oh, maybe I’m not up for this today. But wait, I so want to get up into crow pose … it must happen today!

Those comments are NOT non-attached enjoyment :)

Re-do. There’s my mat. Let’s see what happens. I feel a touch under the weather, but yoga helps me untense. The light is just coming up. I can still see a sliver moon and a few faint stars. Starting seated, I sidebend and twist.

Standing, I deepen into forward fold. My first vinyasa moves me from plank to low cobra with my pelvis on the floor. My back appreciates this gentle start.

Twenty minutes later I’ve moved through tree and the warrior poses and this approach has me kicking up to handstand with unexpected energy.

Not planning ahead took me deep into gomukasana and urdhva danurasana. Savasana settled me into the support of the earth beneath me. More receptive to the quiet. I ease into my day, seeking only to find my place within it. Rest and be thankful, Lynn

Manipura Chakra

Transformation. Sometimes we don’t notice when it happens. Sometimes it’s happening while we sleep or take the bus or plan a trip.

Sometimes we see an old photo and we see all the years ahead captured in that tenderness, that curve of the shoulder blade, that lithe. We see ourselves in in a new friend’s smile and the twinkle of our Dad’s eyes.

A large white bird perches high up in the tree. I find myself sitting down on our landing to watch. Is it an eagle, a hawk? The view is different here. I don’t sit on the stairwell as a habit. To see “the world in a grain of sand” as quoted by William Blake. “And heaven in a wild flower. Hold infinity in the palm of your hand. And eternity in an hour".

It’s not such tough stuff this transformation we speak of. Just show up. Listen. Raise your arms overhead, then bow. Step back into downward facing dog. Right foot forward, arms overhead like a flame, stoking that internal fire, stirring the currents of creativity and magic that reside within.

Thank you for joining me in exploring the third chakra this week through imagery of Shiva and through core work that connected us to our will and our self-worth and our warrior-power in this world! Namaste, Lynn

Compassion ( A practice of return)

What is compassion? Grace, humanity, tenderness, heart. How do we offer compassion to ourselves?

It may not be the default mode. Our internal dialogue can be the opposite. Envy, comparison, judgement block the rays of compassion that want to warm you and let you know you are okay.

Compassion is a purple aster. A sweet flower saying “look at me”, slow down, breathe. You have all the time in the world. You have nothing you have to do. Even if that’s not always true, see if it can create a feeling of calm to take the pressure off.

I continually work to feel at ease in the midst of challenge. I continue to fail. But it is such a worthy endeavor, I don’t give up. Don’t give up on yourself. No matter how tight and unforgiving you may be with yourself sometimes, stop . . . look at that flower, draw a picture, breath deeply. You can always start again.

It’s a new day. Look up, the sky is orange and purple. Outside a man walks a rambunctious puppy. Brew coffee and let the aroma saturate into your being. Put on your coziest sweater. Pack a yummy snack for later. Stop and pick up a fun novel at your local library. Put your feet up tonight. Watch “Mandalorian” or a favorite show. Grab that soft throw blanket and think of something you’re grateful for. Sweet dreams, Lynn