Homeward Bound

Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room. ~Harriet Beecher Stowe


My daughter, Caroline, just completed her freshman year away at school. As we began the arduous task of loading up my car, we realized she had doubled the amount of 'stuff' she'd accumulated during her first year of school in Massachusetts. As cramped as my car was on the drive south this past August, it was even more complicated trying to fit in every bag, every item, and all her new belongings. Caroline had acquired two milk crates filled with books, a shelving unit holding even more, and lots of new furnishings. She had received projects, awards, different types of recognition and been part of many photographs. In short: we weren't loading up the car, trudging up and down two flights of stairs, and then back across the green simply with accumulated junk...we were loading up her first year of memories. With every bag, with each book, with every parcel, there was a story. Each new item contained a memory of her freshman year. Caroline remembered which she skirt she wore to her first day of class, the pair of shoes she wore giving her first Biology presentation and each athletic award's significance. Her mug reminded her of getting tea with her dorm mates, her pillows were ones that matched her with wonderful roommate and her books either evoked wonderful, or dreadful memories of particular classes. It was a cluttered car, but that car was filled with conversations to have on our way home, and then even more as we began to unload and put things away.


As proud as I am of Caroline's success during her first year away, I am thrilled to have her home again...and for all her independent spirit, she's very glad to be home too. Despite the fact that many freshmen feel a sense of disassociation when they complete their first year and arrive back at their homes, Caroline expressed an exuberant joy and loving her school, but loving being back in her own room...with all its childhood memories. She realized that she didn't need to be a leadership role model, at the top of her game (academically or athletically) or even particularly mature. She was able to just be herself again...her persona that she kept tucked in her back pocket while she was at school. Caroline was able to be a daughter and a sister once again....and to enjoy mingling her school things with the memories of her growing up.


Home can be a wonderful place to which to return. As proud as we can be of our accomplishments out in 'the big world', who are innately, our strengths, as well as our weaknesses, can be let free. There are times and places in our adults lives, and especially in the lives of young adults, that we must adopt and enact a vision of our ideal selves. These ideal selves are often more articulate, more well read, more coordinated and better prepared than we truly feel. Our inner selves can feel out of our element, confused, inferior and unworthy. But, when faced with a challenge, we often rise to the occasion by projecting all the qualities we wish to possess. As we become more comfortable in each new situation, and as we face each obstacle, we may well gain confidence in these new abilities. And yet, there are times in which these personality traits we have "tried on", as we would try on a new coat, feel heavy and burdensome. When we come home, we can peel off that overweight layer at the door, and leave it there...choosing either to pick it up, or not, when we leave.



In Yoga, in the beginning of each class I teach, we take a few moments to leave our personalities, egos, preconceived notions and outside worries outside the door. I encourage my students not only to mentally relax, but to physically let go of those areas of competition in our hearts that are holding us back from truly realizing our authentic selves. One way to accomplish this is to practice the "Breath of Joy". This exercise is a three part breath, with the exhalation allowing the yogini to completely release. Not long ago, one of my students shared me how much this small part of our practice meant to her. In her own words, she told me that the "Breath of Joy" felt as she was "coming home after a long, hard trip". This description made me feel exceptionally pleased because that is the asana's full intention: a sense of letting go, and coming back to that inner place in which we feel completely ourselves.

My wish for my children is that, as they grow up and move on with their lives, they always know that their father and I will always be their touchstone...their home base, their place of comfort and familiarity. But, for many of us, our childhood homes no longer exist. Either our parents are no longer with us, or they have moved to a different place. We are incredibly fortunate, however: we carry the blueprint for creating our sense of home within our very nature. We can find time, space, and intention each day to slug off those burdens we carry, check in with our true being. Sometimes it may just finding a quiet place to breathe and clear our minds. It may also be writing, painting or in some other creative outlet. For still others, it may be going for a run to engage our physical being down its essence. However we can tap into that sense of 'home', it has the ability to give us time with who we really are. It can also give us a gift of appreciation of all that we are able to accomplish, and the lessons we have learned along the way.

I encourage you to begin a pilgrimage: find your way home. That may be a place to visit...or it may be a journey inside your own heart. Either way, you may find yourself enriched and relaxed.

Bringing It Home

The expression "Bringing It Home" has many connotations. It happens to be the name of a PBS television series about fine dining in your own house. It's a gymnastics term for sticking at landing. Bringing It Home can mean winning a trophy, acing a test or bringing revitalization to a community. In the news lately, it can often mean bringing lost jobs back to the United States. I hear people talk about this expression in reference to their work; meaning they'll tackle the projects at night. I have seen people use this analogy when they mean to make a very solid point in an argument. I have also heard it used by dancers, as they finish a particularly rough bit of choreography. And yet, lately, I've been hearing this used more and more as a Yoga term. What does it mean, in a yogic sense?

For many people who practice Yoga, the entire adventure centers on going to class. In addition to regular classes they attend, many people will even go on retreats, take weekend intensives, go to resorts where yoga is offered or read Yoga Journal. Still, the very essence of Yoga isn't about going away, but rather, about coming home. I love teaching classes, and I love attending them. It's a wonderful feeling to walk into the studio and, in either role, know that the next 90 minutes will be all about the practice, without distractions and full of intent. Attending regular classes is very important: without them, we don't learn about proper body alignment or correct positioning. We would fail to connect with other people, in various stages of yoga development. We would be islands to ourselves.

Still, Yoga isn't just about attending class. Part of the wonderful feeling we have in class isn't meant to spent there, and only there. It's meant to be brought home, to share with those we love and to continue on the journey at home. An analogy I heard from a master teacher recently was, without a home practice, it would be like taking a piano lesson once a week, and then ignoring music for the other 6 days.

Unrolling the mat at home is very difficult! In my case, as focused and single minded as I am in class, I am completely distracted at home. I look at the laundry that needs to be folded, the bills that need to be paid, the dust bunnies under the chair, the meals that need to be cooked, and yes, the distraction of checking the computer. I'll give myself 10 minutes to get my to-do list partially squared away, and before I know it, I'm emailing with my cousin, and the dogs are lying on my mat. The dogs are another distraction: they see Human Mom lying on the mat, and then believe it's "Pile on Mom Time!".

Still, a home practice is essential to overall yoga well being. It connects your home self to your studio self. It gives you more opportunities for growth. It also teaches you enormous self-discipline. I am working very hard on the clutter in my house, but it is hard to escape from completely. So, I've created one small niche in which to practice: my front hall. I realize this sounds a little bizarre, but it's open, it's got wonderful natural lighting and a good mirror. I orient myself to face the door (and not into the house and its nagging projects) and just give myself whatever time I can squeak out. Interestingly, what began as 5 minutes has turned into 30. In summer, I practice outdoors, which is far more amenable to a home practice, unless, of course, you're an avid gardener. In this case, I'd suggest to orient yourself away from your weeding.

Even if you don't practice Yoga, I believe that the idea of bringing home the very best of ourselves is crucially important to our well being. How many people do you know are passionate about their work, but come home miserably? If we can share that spark of our authentic, loving and compassionate selves with the people closest to us, we have a much better chance of enjoying our 'home' personas much better ourselves.

Just make space in one corner of your house to let your true self shine....even if it means turning away from the dust bunnies.

"If one desires a change at home, one must be the change before it takes place." Gita Bellin