Waiting for the end (of Daylight Savings Time)

Situating a house in a dip between two mountains makes listening to the radio almost impossible. Our alarm clock gets two stations - one is NPR (Vermont's version, not the local station that transmits from two towns away) and the music on the other one instantly starts my head pounding. While I like NPR, I don't like to start my day with bad news, so I use the "nature sounds" option on the clock for my alarm. 

At this time of year, when the simulated birds start chirping and I open my eyes to the pitch blackness outside my window, I curse the extension of daylight savings time. Any real birds out there would still be curled up in a tree, heads tucked under their wings. Already an early riser, this week I've been up extra  early to allow time for the Insanity workouts in addition to my normal morning routine. I want some light.

I'm only on Day 3 of the program, but I've already noticed increased energy during the day. I've also been enjoying uninterrupted sleep until about 4:30 am, when I find myself wide awake and ready to get up - if I could see anything.

There are no streetlights here to light up the wee hours. There is very little traffic. When I lay awake in the middle of the night, as happens often, it is my mind's fault. It seems that the time between midnight and dawn is self-examination time, time to review failures, things I let slide, bank balances and all the other things that trigger stress. 

Now it seems that the cure for my nightly contemplations is Insanity. I've always suspected as much.

I'd still like my hour back.

* * * * * *

I almost made it through day 2's workout, leaving out only the last set. There's quite a bit of jumping and my calves are very sore, which I discovered in downward facing dog when I tried to reach my heels down. Since it's my day off from teaching we could put our workout off until 7:00 am, after I post this. Wish me luck.

All That Falls Shall Rise Again

English: After the harvest (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I'm struggling to come up with a good introduction to the celebration of Lammas, or Lughnasadh, the festival of the first harvest. I can look out my window at green mountains and catch a glimpse of the lake to the east, but there is nary a wheat field to be seen. Perhaps the Champlain Valley boasts some, but here in the mountains we're lucky to find a flat patch for a vegetable garden. With it's short growing season and rocky soil, the Adirondacks is not the best place to get in touch with the agricultural festival cycle of our European ancestors.

Not that suburban New Jersey was much better. There Lughnasadh, which honored the harvest of grains, was excuse to drink beer and barbecue burgers. We often planned a middle of summer gathering to catch up with friends, and drink beer. And eat tomatoes. I bet most of our guests had never heard of Lugh, the Celtic Sun King. That's okay, because, while I knew about the festival, I didn't get it.

While preparing for the yoga studio's monthly New Moon Circle, I had the opportunity to dig deeper into the idea of the first harvest and started to see how I harvest things in my own life. There is a cycle to manifesting. I have an idea, I cultivate that idea, it grows, then it comes into fullness. I create something wonderful and enjoy the abundance it provides.

Except when it doesn't.

This year, thanks to marauding grasshoppers, my vegetable garden is doing poorly. After gathering barely enough peas for one meal, I had to admit that the plants were spent, pulled them out and turned over the bed. Sometimes things don't turn out like I planned.

Sometimes I cultivate an idea and it doesn't make it to fruition. Sometimes things that were providing abundance reach the end of their cycle and they have nothing left to give me. Sometimes I have to step back and decide if what I'm tending has any more potential or if, like the peas, it's spent.

In looking at what I'm trying to manifest, I realized  how scary the harvest must have been for those agricultural folks. Since they were unable to grow grain in the winter, there came a point every year when the grain had to be cut. It didn't matter if the grain hadn't fully grown. It was ready then, or not at all. There had to be some tough winters, when all that got them through was the hope that next year's harvest would be better. The following spring they'd be thinner, but they'd go out and plant the seeds again.

This year, in honor of the first harvest, I've been taking a look at my life and deciding what I should still nourish, and what I should let go. I've realized that neither my mind or my body are benefiting from running this year, so I dumped my marathon plan. I admitted that most of the summer workshops I planned at the studio aren't filling up, so next summer I will only be offering regular yoga classes at the studio, leaving me some time to enjoy the sunny days. I've dropped some volunteer work that wasn't feeding my soul.

What's interesting is that, as I cut these things, new ideas have been popping up. I see opportunities to plant something new, or just a bit different. It's a cycle, after all. After winter, there's always hope for new growth.

It's in the words of a neo-Pagan chant that's often heard at Lughnasadh:

Hoof and horn, hoof and horn,
All that dies shall be reborn.
Corn and grain, corn and grain,
All that falls shall rise again.

You can listen and watch a group performing the chant here. Don't you just want to get up and dance? I, for one, am left feeling hopeful.

A Clean Sweep

Tadley Broom (Photo credit: Flicktone)

This morning I grabbed my broom and swept my front porch, ridding it of slippery, wet leaves deposited by the daily rains we've been enjoying here in the Adirondack rain forest.

I like to sweep. For efficiency's sake I usually opt for the vacuum, but there's nothing like a good sweeping session to clear both dirt and my mind.

Brooms have a long history as instruments both of dust moving and energetic clearing. A twig or straw broom called a "besom" (pronounced "beezum") was used to sweep a space clean before a ritual. Often that sweeping was done without the bristles even touching the ground, to sweep away negative energy. Ancient handfasting rites (the precursor to weddings) might conclude with the bride and groom jumping over a broomstick, which represented hearth and home, to signify the start of their new life as a couple.

This morning's broom was not a besom; rather it was an ordinary broom meant for real dirt. That doesn't mean, however, that my sweeping experience was ordinary. There's something about the act of sweeping that centers me. The rhythmic "fwisk, fwisk" sound quiets my mind, like a repeating mantra or the ocean sound of ujjayi pranayama. By being present, even the act of sweeping the front porch becomes meditative.

Any household chore done mindfully can be grounding and meditative, but I think sweeping beats scrubbing the toilet for the opportunity to turn inward. Folding laundry is second, but the effect is ruined when I have to match socks.

I sadly retreated into the house this morning after I reached the bottom of the porch stairs. I do enjoy a good, clean sweep. As it's raining AGAIN, I'm sure I'll be out there again soon.

Cleaning up, cleaning out and perhaps a bit of procrastination

English: A Miele T8627WP heat pump clothes dryer. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Two weekends ago I had a gloriously productive weekend which involved a good deal of yard work, massive amounts of laundry and 48 hours of ignoring my desk, which was, unfortunately, where all the items actually on my to-do list needed to happen.

I couldn't help it. I mentioned a couple of posts ago that I was feeling the need to clean out, and that's what I've been doing. I can now take several steps in a row in my basement without needing to climb over anything. The SPACE is amazing. When I practice yoga and make space in my body, my breath flows right in. Air and energy are doing that in my basement. I almost cry with joy every time I go down there.

The massive amounts of laundry were in part due to the basement cleanup. I uncovered a bunch of hand-me-downs from my nephew that were the size my son needed to be wearing. (Never mind that he's been going around in pants that end slightly above his ankles. I didn't tell him to grow so fast.) I also uncovered three sizes to grow into, which are now sorted and stored. Unfortunately, I also uncovered a large amount of outgrown clothes that we didn't need to save but did anyway. The charity bin in town got filled up.

I also cleaned out my closet. Despite having done this in the fall, I still have too much. I can't blame a shopping habit, because one of the side-effects of choosing a career in teaching yoga is not having extra money for things like clothes. In the past two years, I haven't purchased anything except a new pair of running shorts and a package of underwear. (You can ask the dog why I needed the latter.)

I'm getting better at letting go. The charity bin received my last suit, the one I had hung on to in case of a job interview or a funeral. After four years of freedom I'm pretty sure I would go insane in an office, and I managed to get through a couple of funerals without having to resort to my suit. It went, and perhaps it will serve someone else. The bin also received most, but not all, of my "dress up" clothes. After throwing a long tunic over my yoga pants and *gasp* brushing my hair, I was told "it's so nice to see you out of your yoga clothes." Clearly I can fake it well enough not to require actual dressy outfits. I did save my sexy black pants that are slit up the sides of the legs in case I get invited someplace classy. Hey, a girl can dream.

My husband and I cleaned up outside, mowed, mulched and planted. Although the summer solstice is a month away and we're still burning wood to keep the house warm, Memorial Day weekend feels like the start of the summer season and I needed to be ready. I also needed to be outside, where it was sunny until it started raining. And raining, and raining, and raining...

Now that the house is ready for summer, I should have no excuse not to get down to business and organize the myriad of summer events and activities on my calendar. I'd been avoiding my desk except as a repository for things that have to be dealt with. I realized I'd let it get out of hand when, in order to find the watch I run with, I had to disentangle a skein of yarn from the telephone cord. (Yes, one of our phones still has a cord. It's the North Country. Sometimes the power goes out.)

A few days ago I cleaned my desk. Now all I have to do is sit at it. I'll do that tomorrow, when it starts raining again.

* * *

In 17 weeks I will attempt my first full marathon. My mother asked me if I think I'll be able to run 26.2 miles. I guess we'll find out.

I'm done

Moore, OK tornado.
Picture by Basehunters

I wrote a happy post about all the things I cleaned out of my house. I'll publish it another time. It seems inappropriate to brag about my clean basement when so many families in Oklahoma lost their homes yesterday.

It's another sad day in America. Watching parents frantically looking for their children in a school parking lot after the tornado hit, I was reminded of how precious life is. And I'm done.

I'm done telling my son I'm too busy for a hug. No matter what's in my hands, what thought I'm trying to hold onto, or what I'm angry with him about, I'll let it go and give him a hug. He's almost ten years old. Even if nothing bad happens, it won't be long until he's too cool to hug his mother. I need to get all the hugs I can now.

I'm done complaining about little inconveniences. Last night we ran out of propane, the fuel for our stove and hot water heater. We cooked pizza in the barbecue grill. We took fast, cold showers this morning. Otherwise, life went on just fine, and our tank was filled by 8:00 a.m. This was not a crisis worth devoting my energy to. Most of life's inconveniences aren't.

I'm done putting off yoga and meditation for a better time. There is no better time than now. The day my floor is covered with the remains of my roof is the day I can say it's not a good time to unroll my mat. Otherwise, I have no excuse not to practice.

I'm done holding onto things just because I feel I should have them. If I lost everything tomorrow, but had my family, I would be okay. My existence would not be diminished because I didn't have a pile of books, Halloween costumes from 2007 and a fondue pot. (Okay, it would be a little bit diminished without the fondue pot.)

I'm done forgetting that the best thing in life is life itself. Let's live life, right now.

Making space (and something new) #365Yoga

Chakra Muladhara (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I recently began leading a series of Chakra workshops. Working through the aspects of the first Chakra, I rediscovered my own imbalances. We all have an energy block or two somewhere. One of mine is at the root.

My root Chakra imbalance shows up as an accumulation of clutter. It's not that I want the stuff. I just don't take the time to get rid of it. I look at my basement and see a mess too huge to deal with in a reasonable amount of time. (Remember when I felt that way about my desk?)

The problem with holding onto stuff, for whatever reason, is that it leaves no room for anything new. The unwanted items not only take up physical space, but they take up space in my mind and block the movement of energy. Rather than being a comfortable, safe place to live, prosper and grow, my house feels like it's closing in on me.

It's time to let go and make space for the energy to flow. The basement, the closets and the kitchen cabinets are about to be purged - a bit at a time.

While I was thinking about making space, my kids were thinking of another way to bring new energy into the house. My Mother's Day gift was a baby bearded dragon, to fill a space in my heart that's been empty for four years. When I need a smile, all I have to do is sit and watch the little guy scamper around the enclosure.

Oh, about that enclosure - it was in the basement collecting dust. There's already more space.

Desperation Gardening

Today, finally, I was able to get outside, turn over one of my vegetable beds and plant peas. Just yesterday it was 24 degrees when I woke up. I've been pursuing the prAna catalog looking wistfully at their new swimsuit line, but, honestly, I was flipping through the pages wishing they'd make flannel yoga pants.

About two months ago, desperate to see something growing, I got creative. I had been on Pinterest, my favorite idea generator, and saw an indoor garden created with jars set at an angle in a wooden shelf. Anyplace I could hang a shelf in my kitchen wouldn't get enough light, so I went straight to the window. My husband drilled through some dryer vent clamps and screwed them into the window frame.

Saved pasta sauce jars were filled with potting soil and seeds. The jars were clamped into place and turned toward the window. A few weeks later I had salad greens, parsley and basil. I'm enjoying the bounty of my little indoor garden.

But, to tell the truth, I was only slightly less desperate. I am very glad for a warm day and bright sunshine. Welcome spring!

Defining Wellness

Headlamps are useful before dawn.

This morning I woke my nine year old at 5:00 a.m. for a sunrise hike to a pond near our home. We didn't actually get to see the sun rise due to an overabundance of clouds, it was cold and the pond was still frozen, but we enjoyed our first hike of 2013 anyway. It was as much an acknowledgement of my own return to wellness as it was a celebration of the start of mud season in the Adirondacks.

My husband is not a morning person. When I announced our planned hike, he noted that my idea of wellness is someone else's idea of insanity. This had me thinking that it is impossible to define wellness in a broad sense. We each have to define wellness in our own terms, and we only can by knowing our own bodies, minds and spirits.

This is very evident whenever I get together with the Bona Fide Butterflies, who include myself and my two friends and partners Annie Gregson and Beti Spangel. Together we facilitate empowering retreats and workshops for women. We strive to help women design and live authentic, inspired lives based on their individual values.

Individual values - that's the key. Society likes to tell us what to value. Media gets paid to tell us what to value. But it's our individual values, the ones that come from the heart, that make us unique, that keep everyone from being the same and living the same life according to the same plan. It's our individual values that make human existence diverse, colorful and fun. 

The BFBs

Annie and Beti are incredible women living joyful lives of their own design. Neither one of them is likely to start training for a marathon. Neither one wants to teach yoga, although they enjoy their own yoga practices. Annie, a life coach, also makes incredible art. She has lots of time in her life for long walks in the woods with her dog, and she throws fun, seemingly spontaneous parties. Beti has horses and chickens on her homestead, and she makes yummy cheese. She can drive a tractor. She's also an awesome writer.

Our differences are what we have in common. All three of us have taken the time to figure out what's important to us and we've created lives that honor those things. Unique, diverse, authentic lives. Our own definitions of wellness. 

The other thing we have in common is a road in Schroon Lake, where we're neighbors in the "I'll drive a few miles up the road to your house" sense of the word. I think fate had something to do with that.

Take a look at the Bona Fide Butterflies website and see the workshops and retreats we offer. We're also on Facebook. 

I'm heading to a yoga class to stretch out sore hiking and running muscles, and to honor my own idea of wellness.

Sometimes They Listen

Photo by Noah Hamilton (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Last evening, after some small miracle occurred and a movie I chose made it to the top of our Netflix queue, we watched Soul Surfer. This movie is about Bethany Hamilton, a surfer who lost an arm to a shark then went on to compete as a professional surfer.

After Bethany did poorly at her first attempt at competing after losing her limb, she was surprised to get a bunch of fan mail. When she asked why, her wise movie-mother said "because you tried."

And my son, snuggled next to me on the couch, said, "and DNF is better than DNS."

My husband and my daughter both replied, "huh?" but I understood perfectly, because months ago, on Thanksgiving, when my son and I were running our own 5K turkey trot, I had said those very words to him. They're words I read often on the forums of the site that got me through my first triathlon. The phrase is one of those endurance athlete cliches.

Did not finish is better than did not start.

Sometimes things happen. We get injured, we lose a bike tire, we hit the wall. We might not finish. That's why every time I race, there's one line I strive to make it to - the starting line. After that everything's gravy. What matters is that I tried.

Racing, like yoga, teaches me lessons that apply very nicely to life. I try to share those lessons with my children. Most of the time I'm pretty sure they ignore me. But then there are moments, like the one last night, when they let me know that sometimes they listen.

Surrendering does not mean giving up #365Yoga

Eustachian Tube (PSF) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Six more days until the Spring Equinox. I, for one, am happy to see this winter end. Don't get me wrong. I like winter, normally. But if you've been reading my posts like this one and this one you know that I haven't been having the best winter. If the nine lovely ladies who were going through my yoga teacher training program hadn't given me a reason to get out of bed I probably would have burrowed under the covers and hibernated until spring was well and truly here.

I actually spent quite a bit of time in my bed, thanks to a series of head colds and fatigue that I just couldn't shake, even with a daily dose of vitamin D and my Isagenix shakes. I could have fought off the fatigue with caffeine, but I try to stay away from that. Instead, I surrendered. I took naps. I read books. I forgot to do stuff or decided it wasn't worth doing anyway.

And I whined. WHINE, WHINE, WHINE...  sigh.

Two weeks ago things changed. Unfortunately I didn't wake up one morning cured. Instead, I woke up with a stuffy head, still tired despite sleeping for 10 hours, like always, but that morning I also had an ear ache. It wasn't a typical ear ache either. This was deep. There was pressure inside my head and a burning down the side of my throat.

Great, I thought, another ear infection. I started putting garlic oil in my ear and reacquainted myself with my heating pad. I tried to get out of bed and the room spun. The room spun when I got out of the shower. The room spun when I tried downward facing dog (my favorite yoga pose).

After a few days, I surrendered again, and went to the doctor. The diagnosis was serous otitis media. "Serous, not serious," the doctor said. Really, he said that. He's lucky I think he's a good doctor.

Anyway, what I have is eustachian tube dysfunction, which, while annoying, is not, in fact, serious. Unless I happen to get dizzy, fall down and injure myself. Basically, one of my eustachian tubes is chronically blocked, causing pressure and equilibrium problems and, most likely, a bunch of middle ear infections with head cold-like symptoms. Hmmmm....

The doctor believes my ear problem is caused by allergies and has been going on for at least six months, since I was at the office last October for an ear infection. I'm using a nasal spray and have been told it will be six to eight weeks before it clears up.

I guess I'll be practicing surrendering until May, which is when I plan to start training for September's Adirondack Marathon. I have not given up on my plans to run my first full marathon this year.

Surrendering does not mean giving up. It means giving in when necessary to heal, process or find balance (literally in my case). And I'm having a great time in Balasana, where I can't fall over and my head drains very nicely.

After the Ecstasy, the Suckiness #365Yoga

English: Masala Chai, Masala Tea, Spice Tea (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Part of yoga's transformational power is its ability to shift a person's perspective until that person's default thought is something like "life is good." Generally this is a positive change. Those who have made the swing tend to hang out together, sipping chai in a nearby bistro after yoga class and sharing stories about all the good things happening in their lives. And because positive energy is contagious, the group usually grows and local sales of comfortable t-shirts with happy messages skyrocket.

Maybe you've seen it happen. Maybe you're even part of it.

I sure am. After many years of practicing yoga and occasional t-shirt buying, I have come around to thinking that life is good. And for the most part, it is.

Except when it isn't.

There are times when life, in fact, sucks. No matter how many hours I spend on my mat, people I care about continue to pass away, illness still affects me and my family, car accidents happen, homes need repair, money stops coming in, and so on. Often these things pile one on top of another.

During the pre-yoga years I had refined the art of wallowing in self-pity so much that even now I sometimes can't see life past a hangnail. I'm not proud of this, but another sneaky yoga transformation is self-acceptance and a tendency to wallow is part of that self I'm accepting. In the middle of a good pity party the wanting-to-be-happy part of my brain reminds me to get on my mat, because my asana practice has a way of lifting my spirits. The wallowing part's response is usually "f*ck that, and who invited you to this party anyway?"

The wallowing part wins sometimes. After all, who wants to leave a good party? Unfortunately, the win usually comes when the suckiness has started piling up and I need my practice more than ever. And sometimes that means things seem worse than they are and difficulties get dragged out longer than they need to.

There is a book by Jack Kornfield called After the Ecstasy, the Laundry which explores, from a Buddhist perspective, how to deal with the suckiness that's still there after discovering that life is good. It's been years since I read it, and I probably should again because the details have faded. The title has stuck with me, though, reminding me that yoga doesn't end human suffering, just like it doesn't end chores. And, being an imperfect human, even a yoga teacher may blow off her practice and choose the pity party for awhile.

Does that mean I'm out of the positive vibes and chai club? Maybe. But there's another club after the ecstasy fades to wisdom. We sip chai and tell our stories and, when life sucks as it sometimes does, cry on each other's shoulders and drag one another to yoga class so we can get on our mats and rediscover that life is good. You'll recognize us by our well-worn and often stained t-shirts...with happy messages.

A Head Cold, an Adventure Story, Some Envy and Yoga #365Yoga

Freya Hoffmeister (Photo credit: eriksjos)

I tried to ignore my second head cold in less than a month, but couldn't really deny the heaviness in my head and finally slid back under the covers for an afternoon of napping and reading. My bedside book pile consists of books about yoga and books about adventure, most of the latter being monthly reads of the Women's Adventure Magazine Book Club group on Facebook, in which I lurk for the reading suggestions. I passed up the heavy-thinking-required yoga reading and picked up Fearless by Joe Glickman, the story of Freya Hoffmeister's record-setting circumnavigation of Australia in a sea kayak.

Freya's year-long paddle included encounters with sharks, crocodiles and stinging jellyfish, crazy currents and surf, fatigue, seasickness and unpleasant rashes. It was an impressive journey by a woman who never doubted she would be able to complete it. While I admired her tenacity, I had trouble, and I believe the author did too, with Freya's lack of humility. But, when it comes to people who have both the physical strength to accomplish amazing feats and the organizational skills to make them happen, I tend towards a bit of un-yogini-like envy.

My adventurous heart tends to reach further than my body wants to go. When I announced my latest battle with germs on Facebook, one of my friends was quick to comment, "Why are you always sick?!? Between your diet and physical exercise, you should be the healthiest person on Charley Hill!!" That, unfortunately, has been my life-long question and one that, despite years of work towards wellness, remains unanswered. What makes me so susceptible to upper-respiratory-system-attacking viruses is a mystery. So is the extreme fatigue and depression that comes every time I ramp up my physical activity beyond "easy," which, while allowing me to build endurance, means I will never run as fast as I'd like to, or faster than a turtle.

During her year of extreme kayaking, Freya Hoffmeister never had to spend a few days in her tent on the beach nursing a head cold. It's possible that the author decided not to mention it, but I find it hard to believe he would leave out an illness when he was so careful to mention every time she puked from seasickness and how she managed bowel movements without leaving her boat. While my heart longs for an adventure as amazing as Freya's (although I'd be happy without the crocodiles), I have to resign myself to knowing my body my may never be up for it.

So what do I do? I get back on my yoga mat. It was yoga that taught me to accept my body as it is. It was my asana practice that got me to the place where I could start running and not stop for 13.1 miles, which is pretty darn good even if I never break out of the back of the pack. It is yoga that reminds me to rest when I need to, that it's okay to drop into Balasana or take a nap. And it's yoga that pulls the rug out from under my ego and shows me the way to be humble and grateful.

Perhaps I will have to experience the grandest of adventures in the pages of a book, and perhaps my practice includes sitting with the envy I feel on the way to self-acceptance. Perhaps that inner exploration is the greatest adventure of all.

The vision board I didn't want to make and why I did it anyway #365yoga

January 2013 started wonderfully. I had my affirmations and I was ready to go. Then, suddenly, it was January 31st and I looked back at what I accomplished in January...

Let's agree to never speak of January again, okay?

Last week, during a call with my oh-so-wise-and-witty life coach Annie, I was lamenting how quickly I lost momentum during the month-that-shall-not-be-named. After listening to me whine about my lack of focus, she asked if I had made a vision board for the year.

I hadn't made a vision board. Frankly, I was feeling done with vision boards. I'd spent last winter creating a visual business plan for my yoga studio business. My business vision board is hanging on my home office wall with two other vision boards I had made at various times. There's another vision board hanging on the wall in my office in the yoga studio. I have a visual journal on my shelf. I felt like I'd done enough cutting and pasting for a lifetime.

Don't tell Annie, but when she told me to make a vision board for 2013 I had every intention of blowing it off. In order to work on it I'd have to put aside something else that really needs to get done and it didn't seem worth the time and effort.

Hello Nemo.

When the snowstorm blew into town this morning I closed the yoga studio and suddenly found myself trapped in the house with time on my hands. Sometimes the universe kicks my excuses to the curb.

As I went through a year's worth of magazines I hadn't gotten around to reading, looking for pictures that spoke to my vision for the year, the images I chose all seemed like the same old stuff. As I laid the pictures out, I noticed a subtle shift from previous boards; the images leaned more towards stillness and being alone than in years past. As I was gluing, I realized why I was done with vision boards.

For me, the time for vision is over. I've done all the work of figuring out my values, my goals, my dreams. I have a plan for my life and my business. Know what's next? Implementing that plan.

And that, my friend, is the hard part.

That's why, during our hour-long phone calls, I repeatedly hear Annie ask "What's one thing you can do to get closer to that feeling?" and "What's standing in the way of starting that?" That's why I've had to revisit tools like calendars and task lists. That's why I've been investing in folders and organizing projects.

This is not a big picture year. 2013 is a year of action. It's time to implement all those grand ideas and actually make my life and my business look like the pictures I've carefully arranged on poster board. It's the year I'm going to have to face fears and kick through obstacles.

Was my vision board a waste of time? Nope. Creating the board allowed me to find some clarity, as creating always does, even when I'm not enjoying it. (I suspect Annie knew it would.) I hung it on my wall next to the business' board so, when I'm procrastinating about the next thing on my to-do list, I'll be reminded why I planned to do it in the first place.

And the images of stillness and solitude? They'll remind me that I need to balance the busy-ness of action with quiet and calm, so busy-ness doesn't become burn-out. Better put "yoga practice" on the list.

Let Go and Feel It #365yoga

Scenes from Albany (New York) International Airport (Photo credit: cseeman)

It's 5:00 a.m. and I'm sitting on an uncomfortable bench in Albany International Airport. My teenage daughter is on the other side of the security checkpoint, waiting at a gate to board a plane headed to Costa Rica. Her trip started with a somewhat hairy 3:00 a.m. ride to the airport on ice-covered roads, but we made it. Now she's leaving for a week of surf camp, traveling by herself to a foreign country.

Five months ago, after another early morning departure, we moved her into her college dorm room. If things had gone according to plan, she would be back there now instead of boarding a plane. But life rarely goes according to plan, no matter how carefully I work out the details. I've found that the unexpected happens more often then not.

Maybe that's why my to-do list never gets finished.

My life coach, Annie Gregson, keeps asking me how I want to feel. Whenever I tell her I want to do something, she gets me to pick at it until I uncover the feeling that I'm seeking. Then we look for ways to have those feelings every day, or I realize that my latest goal is more about what I want other people to think than about how I want to feel, and it gets taken off the list.

Yoga teaches us that attachment leads to suffering. The great gurus of old must have been standing next to a mother watching the most beautiful thing she ever created pass through airline security when they came up with that piece of wisdom. Letting go is hard. When I stop clinging desperately to the plan and let things go, what am I left with?

Feelings.

I agree with Annie that uncovering the feelings is important. That is, after all, what we do on our yoga mats when we stop trying and let go into an asana. With the physical letting go there is an emotional letting go that brings us deeper into ourselves. When the emotions are freed, we have no choice but to feel them.

It is nice to choose a feeling to seek, but to open up to how I want to feel means opening up to all the other feelings along the way. Unlike goals, plans and to-do lists, feelings are raw and tend to do their own thing, despite what the to-do list says. When fear, sadness and anger come knocking, I have to let them in to stand alongside joy, pride and awe. Willingness to feel everything that comes up is part of having the courage to live the life I chose.

Honestly, I have to dig deep for that courage.

And in order to live according to how I want to feel, I also have to be willing to let go and allow others to live according to how they want to feel. Maybe that means I'll be sitting on an uncomfortable bench in Albany International Airport at 5:00 a.m. with tears streaming down my cheeks while I watch the departure board bump my daughter's flight closer to the top.

Word Two: Adventure #365Yoga

On your own you dashed upon the Sun, which is at a fabulous distance of thousands of miles, thinking it to be a sweet luscious fruit. (From the Hanuman Chalisa, as translated here.)

Hanuman, the Hindu monkey god, is revered as a symbol of strength, perseverance and devotion. He embodies my second word for 2013: adventure. For what is adventure but seeking the luscious fruit of life, whatever it takes?

I am an adventurer. Maybe not in a "climb Mt. Everest" kind of way, but I find adventures all the time. I seek the juicy bits of life. Sometimes the day's adventure is on my yoga mat, sometimes on an Adirondack mountain, sometimes on the road in my running shoes, and sometimes it's in the pages of a good book.

Adventure is one of the reasons I'm so passionate about maintaining my physical health. My need for adventure, and places to find adventure, drives me to defend the environment and protect the sacred, natural places. Strength, perseverance and devotion are the keys to an adventurous life.

If you'd like to incorporate some adventure in your life this winter, check out 31 Winter Adventures by Expand Outdoors and WanderLydia. And unroll your yoga mat to explore what your body can do. I'll be doing both.

Original image here

Word One: Abundance #365Yoga

In addition to writing affirmations, I like to start off each year with a word. It's sort of a theme for the year. Last year's word was manifesting, and I did quite a bit of that in 2012.

This year I couldn't narrow my theme to one word, so I ended up with three. It's okay, since I'm thinking a little bit bigger this year anyway.

Word one is abundance. I've been struggling with feeling abundant lately. Although I am grateful for all that we have, which is more than many people in this world have, at times money is very tight. We have never gone without food or heat and we have a roof over our heads, but I nevertheless I feel fearful and lacking sometimes.

Like I'm standing on the edge of a fiscal cliff and it's a long way down. Except I can't raise my own credit limit.

Will this be the year I finally figure out how to make a budget and stick to it? Or will this be the year more revenue comes in? I'm not sure how abundance will play out in my life in 2013, but it will probably be a bit of both. And I'm sure I'll be standing at the edge of a few cliffs this year. But, wait, that's the next post...

Om Shrim Maha Lakshmiyei Swaha

Salutations to Lakshmi, the great goddess of abundance.

An old year, a new year and a little presence #365yoga

My husband made me this
groovy incense burner from
a wine bottle. Who wants one?

The Winter Solstice/Christmas/New Year's frenzy is finally over and life can return to it's usual chaos. The past few weeks have been an emotional roller coaster, but I took my own advice and, thanks to time on my yoga mat, made it through. I may not be the same person I was on the first of December, but I'm still here.

And so are you. That's awesome! Now we get to move on.

I recycled my 2012 calendar yesterday. That was somewhat satisfying, especially after the way the year came to a close. The Mayans may not have made a calendar for 2013, but the National Audubon Society did. It's pretty, and has a picture of an eagle on January's page. (Garudasana, anyone?)

Speaking of groovy, when he's
not in the woodshop, my husband
takes some funky pictures, like
this one of our town's New
Year's Eve fireworks.

During a few quiet moments last week, I sat down and gave thought to what I want to do with this new year. I'm not fond of resolutions so, as in years past, I wrote affirmations based on my goals. Affirmations are written in the present tense, as if they are already happening, so instead of something to strive for, I give myself a way of being. It's about the present moment because it's really the only one that matters.

So, with a little presence, here are my 2013 affirmations:

1. My daily asana and meditation practice sustains me. It really does. It gets me through tough times and allows me to find peace even when it seems like the rest of the world is losing it. And maybe this will be the year that I finally balance a handstand off the wall.
2. My whole family benefits from healthy food prepared with love. I have been making changes already, but this year I am committing to preparing as much healthy, clean food as I can. By planning ahead, I won't be running into the store for a box of frozen preservatives and fillers every day. The food I prepare will support our wellness goals, as well as my training goals. And I'll definitely be incorporating Isagenix into my meal planning, because I can't start the morning without a shake.
3. I am fit, strong and fast. Well, faster than I was in 2012, anyway. My plan for 2013 is to run two half-marathons, then tackle my first full marathon in September. Since swim training can't happen without a pool, I'm stepping away from triathlons this year but hope to participate in my first duathlon in the fall.
4. I am an excellent yoga teacher. Yes, I set the bar high. I've got two big continuing education programs on the calendar this year. And I plan to get a recharge at Wanderlust VT in June, no matter what it takes to get there.
5. Hiking weekly grounds me. And lifts me up. And keeps me sane. And gives me lots of time with my boy. We're strapping on our snowshoes this winter so we don't have to stop.
6. My passion benefits people in my community and the environment. I'm spending some time in Albany this year and I'm taking my "Don't frack up New York's farms" sign with me. Yes, I can change the world.
7. I pursue the activities that make me happy. Climbing, hooping, banging on my bongos, bellydancing, skiing, slacklining...
8. My home is calm and inviting. And my basement is free of clutter. By the thirtieth of June. Really.
9. I read voraciously. Because I have a pile of good books sitting next to my bed.
10. By knitting and crafting all year long, I give meaningful, hand-crafted gifts. This is the affirmation that will help me finish the list of gifts I was supposed to make in 2012. If you were supposed to get one and didn't because it wasn't finished, I promise it will be worth the wait.
11. I create abundance in my life. It doesn't look like Congress is going to do anything useful, so I'm taking matters into my own hands.
12. My yoga studio is self-sustaining and growing. Thanks to a whole bunch of wonderful people who contribute in so many ways.

Okay, I'm ready for you, 2013!

I started off the new year with a dip
in Lake George.
New Year's Polar Bear Plunge 2013

On the Winter Solstice 2012

In the dark waiting womb
there is a quiet rhythm,
the sound of intention unmanifest.
It will become with a wail.

To call the first tendril of pink
from beyond the horizon,
a feathered minstrel lifts its head
and trills its morning anthem.

Do not sit silent in the growing darkness.
The universe was not born in a flash but a bang,
the resonance of the heart of the Divine,
speaking its name into all of creation.

Invite the sun with song,
be it frenzied drumbeats,
melodious carols, quiet lullabies
or the echoing sound of om.

All songs are one song,
as all hearts are one heart.
Sing your Divine name
into the creation of a new age.

And when, in the deepest darkness,
your song fades to stillness,
a collective pause for breath,
listen. Listen for the waiting refrain.

Listen for the muted pulse of love.
Listen for the hushed jingle of peace.
Then take up their song, your song,
and roar them into being.

(c) Debbie Philp 2012

As we step over the threshold from autumn to winter, from darkness to light, from violence and hatred into the blank slate of a new day, I wish you peace and love. Sing their song with all of your heart. Pass it on.

This is not my Winter Solstice post

Shakti (Photo credit: rouwkema)

This is not my post. My post, which I spent hours outlining and researching, was about inviting the divine feminine into the celebration of the Winter Solstice. This is not the post I intended to write.

This is not my post because today a man with a gun took the lives of twenty children and six adults in an elementary school and I can't read my outline through the tears that keep flowing. This is not a personal tragedy - I do not know anyone in Newtown, Connecticut - but a universal tragedy that stabs at my heart as I'm sure it stabs at the hearts of all parents.

Over the past few weeks, this mother's heart has been shaken, beaten and trampled by sadness, fear and, with its own way of pounding my insides, joy. But that is what a mother's heart is for. Every change, welcomed or not, is like a birth, complete with expansion, discomfort, movement and, sometimes, seemly unbearable pain. Then there is a new creation, but it's naked and bloody and screaming and demanding. And it will be loved and nurtured with every cell of a battered and bruised heart.

Changes as simple as the reassignment of household chores were uncomfortable. The switch to homeschooling brought fear with the adjustments. Finding out my daughter needs to explore life instead of reading about it in college textbooks is pulling my heart in so many different directions I expect it to tear into pieces. There have been losses in my circle of friends and within our community. Not long ago I watched helplessly as my childhood home was devastated by a hurricane. And then, just as we slip into the final week before the foretold longest night to beat all longest nights, there is the grief of universal tragedy. But that's what a mother's heart is for.

Tonight I lit a candle to mourn the loss of children, but my tears are for their mothers who, when the pain subsides, will have given birth to an emptiness that will need care and compassion forever. And my tears are for a world that is clinging to hatred, violence and chaos and collectively digging in its heels to slow the slide into the terrible pain of rebirth, afraid of what the new creation, ultimate freedom and love, may demand of it. But each and every one of us is the embodiment of Shakti, the female power that creates the very change we are fighting to stop. We all have a mother's heart. We have the strength to bear the pains of sadness and fear and joy, and together we can create a new world. All we have to do is let go of everything except each others' hands.

Perhaps the divine feminine is here for the Winter Solstice, invited or not. Maybe this is my post.

Pin This Post

Pinterest makes time disappear. I lose an hour here, an hour there, happily pinning clever ideas. However, like a box full of pages torn from magazines (remember those?), I tend to collect pins of recipes and crafts that I will never, ever try.

Tonight I found myself with some unexpected time. The Reiki Share I was supposed to attend was canceled because our dear Reiki Master couldn't escape the bug that's going around our area. After sending her some energy, I decided the universe was giving me time to try a couple of those pinned ideas.

The first pin, which I delegated to Tristan, was Twiggy Tree ornaments from the blog michele made me. I decided to ignore the fact that the slightly over-achieving Michele was making these in July, leaving her time in December for things such as a nativity made from egg cartons. These ornaments were easy to make and gave Tristan an opportunity to use his tools.

I left him in the workshop sawing twigs into various lengths and headed into the kitchen to tackle the second pin, Apple Cinnamon Dessert Chimichangas from Juanita's Cocina. I got the apples cooking and went to check on Tristan, who was now drilling holes in the twigs he'd cut to size.

After the apples cooked and cooled, I stuffed some small flour tortillas with the filling and fried them in oil.

While the Chimichangas were still warm they got rolled in cinnamon and sugar. Tristan, meanwhile, was threading his twig pieces onto a thin ribbon.

The Twiggy Tree is lovely. He'll be making more.

The Apple Cinnamon Chimichangas were very tasty. I just finished my second one. My only regret was not having any caramel sauce.

And, now that I've proven that I may actually do something with them, I can resume my happy pinning. Come follow me on Pinterest and see how many of your hours disappear.