Leaving Shoes - and Ego - at the Door

It's my last night in the tree house.

My loneliness passed as soon as I realized that my time here was nearly over. Adrenalin kicked in and I knocked off all the remaining tasks on my retreat to-do list.

Or maybe that surge of energy came from an amazing Vinyassa class that I took at the Yoga Barn.  For the uninitiated, Vinyassa is an approach to yoga that very specifically synchronizes the breath with movement. Vinyassa is often described as a “flow”  because of the way that the yogi moves with her or his breath from one asana to another. It’s one of my favorite forms of yoga, mostly because it can be very active and, at the same time, as gentle or as challenging as the student want to make it.

Vinyassa can also be humbling.  During the class, our instructor Bonnie was walking around in between mats, making adjustments to people as they went through various poses. I assumed I would not be the subject of an assist. After all, I do a lot of yoga. I teach yoga, for crying out loud. I must be doing it right. And yet, in the middle of Virabhadrasana (Warrior) 2,  a pose I’ve done hundreds of times, Bonnie came over to me and began making slight adjustments. She moved my hand to the right, tucked my hip back to the left, and – voila - I felt better, stronger and more energized. Go figure.

Yoga is described as a practice for a reason. No matter how often you do it, there’s always room to learn more. We may never reach perfection. I once took a workshop with an Iyengar instructor who told me that he had been studying a particular type of Pranayama, or breathing, for two years. He said he was almost ready to begin teaching it.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could take an openness to humility off the mat and into our daily lives?  With humility comes a sense of empowerment when we are willing to learn, accept an assist and make some adjustments. The result is that we can do better – we can be better – no matter what we are facing.

I once saw a sign at a yoga studio asking people to leave their shoes and egos at the door.

Pretty good advice for life, I think.

namaste, gin

Solitude

If Jesus went into the desert alone for 40 days and Buddha sat under the Bodhi tree for 49, why am I struggling with just four?

A prophet I am not, but we knew that.

Still, one would think that after 50 years of never, ever being alone that a week by myself would be just the thing.

And it is.  I’m getting a heck of a lot of work done. I’m practicing yoga throughout the day. I’m reading some of those books that have sat, collecting dust, by my bedside. I’ve snuck in a few long bike rides. And yet…. I’m, what’s the word? Lonesome.

 I had contemplated being silent during my stay here. That lasted half a day.  My loved ones are getting weary of my calls and texts. How are you? I ask. “Still fine,” they say. Anything new? “Not in the last hour….”

As I sat on the beach this morning, I couldn’t help but think of those prophets who spent weeks and months in solitude, in prayer and meditation. And I thought of the people who live alone, perhaps not in prayer or meditation, but who experience solitude on a regular basis.  Most of the people I know who have chosen to live like that relish their lifestyle. 

Dabbling my toes in the waters of solitude is giving me a greater appreciation for my life of no solitude. Knowing that my time here is limited makes the solitude bearable and at times, even enjoyable.  It certainly inspires me to keep tackling those intimidating tasks that I claimed not to be able to do for lack of time or quiet.

I wonder if when these seven days of solitude are up whether I will return, changed. Hopefully, change will occur because of Yoga Neighborhood. But I suspect that, despite my wistfulness for family and friends, I will miss the opportunity to sit, think, pray and meditate whenever I want. The challenge, of course, will be to create those opportunities even in my busy, distracted life.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Namaste, Gin

The cost of yoga

Day Two

Actually, it’s the morning of Day 3.

I’ve started both my mornings here practicing yoga on the edge of a cove that I can see from the tree house.  I shared the space with a solitary swan that drifted back and forth in front of me as I went through my asanas.  I wanted to do something in her honor but all I could think of was frog, and though I appreciate the whole circle of life thing, I thought it be best to stick with poses like tree,  mountain, or chair. (Swans are mostly vegetarians but dangle a small frog or fish in front of her and, well, the temptation may be too great. Kind of like me and bacon.).

Yoga Journal has a poll on its site right now asking whether the price of yoga is getting out of reach for most people. 86.9 percent of the people said it was. That doesn’t surprise me. I took an absolutely wonderful class yesterday, but it cost me $17! While studios usually offer discounts to people who pay in advance for 10 or 12 yoga classes, it’s still an expensive proposition.

A couple years ago, as I was waiting for a yoga class to begin, I overheard a few women talk about how much yoga was helping them cope with their stress.  Full of righteous indignation, I wanted to say, “You think you have stress? Let me tell you about stress!” I was thinking of the people that were walking through the doors of the housing agency where I worked who were absolutely desperate - homeless or in danger of becoming homeless - and looking for help.

Stress knows no boundaries. People of every age, gender and economic, educational, and cultural background, experience stress. But let’s face it: Financial hardship can be incredibly stressful, especially when unstable housing, unemployment, a chronically illness, divorce, or death are part of the picture. People who lack financial resources not only have a lot of stress, they can’t afford tools that the rest of us have to help them cope.  

That’s where the idea of a community yoga program was born.

It took me back to a visit I made, years ago, to the Ganges in India. My first morning in Varanasi, I found people not only bathing in the sacred river, but meditating and practicing yoga along its banks. The rich and the poor were there together, finding their breath and doing their practice.  No teacher. No sticky mats. No props. Just yoga, pure and simple.

To be clear, no one I know is getting rich in the yoga industry. There are simply costs associated with running a commercially competitive private studio that dictate the fees that are passed onto students. But there is, of course, value in a private studio. Who doesn’t like taking a  small group class in a pristine environment with all the right props and just the right music playing softly in the background? It’s wonderful.

And yet, many people simply cannot afford that experience.  With Yoga Neighborhood we can make yoga accessible to everyone, regardless of their income. Some folks who have the means will discover yoga with us and will continue their practice in a studio. But others will have us and, hopefully, learn and benefit enough so that they can practice at home. Without a teacher. A sticky mat. Or props.  Just yoga, pure and simple.

First in the Neighborhood

I’m sitting in Tree House 2 where the only sounds are the trees rustling in the wind, some thunder rolling in and the crash of waves onto the shore not too far from here.

I’m on retreat, a work retreat, on an island off the coast of Massachusetts, with the once-in-a- lifetime opportunity to spend an entire week working on a project.  No family. No friends. No pets. No laundry. No cooking. No meetings. No appointments. No distractions  - even good distractions. No responsibilities - not a one – except to keep the promise to myself to use this week to produce something significant.

Over the years I had become expert at using the busyness of life as an excuse for not completing any one of a number of projects on my to-do list. Writing a book. Learning how to play the violin. That sort of thing. Most recent was my Community Yoga program, which I started last spring.

The concept behind Community Yoga is simple: Make yoga accessible to everyone – regardless of their age, wealth, or fitness level – with free classes in a safe, welcoming environment.  Reduce the stress of individuals in a neighborhood, I figured, and you reduce the stress and tension in your neighborhood. Improve the health of individuals in a neighborhood, improve the health of the neighborhood. Strengthen the individuals in a neighborhood,  strengthen the neighborhood.

The idea made sense to me and seemed to make sense to almost everyone I talked with. It certainly made sense to the 50 or more people who show up for the free weekly class.  While I’ve managed to teach or to recruit other yoga instructors to  teach every week, it’s taken me a whole year to figure out that this program could be so much more than it is. But to do that, I’ve got some work to do. Get organized. Form a nonprofit. Create a website. And what about a blog?

And so that is what I’m going to be doing over the next seven days.

I’m going to live in a tree house – a very nice tree house, mind you - and figure it out. Maybe not all of it, but enough so that when it’s time to head back – with open arms to the family, the pets and even the laundry – I’ll have a check mark next to this on my to-do list.

Welcome to the neighborhood.

Namaste…. Gin