Q & A with GRATITUDE

"Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple."  ~  Dr. Seuss


I feel truly, exceptionally and powerfully blessed. So many people have dropped me notes to wish me well and to encourage me over the past year. I have no idea what my life would be like, had my life's course not veered into unknown territory. However, one thing that I do know: I'm eternally grateful for those special folks who have reached out to me. I'm encouraged by your stories, by your thoughtfulness, by your willingness to get to know me and by the new friends I've made. In addition, you have all asked me some good questions. Rather than repeat myself, I've decided to do a Q & A segment on Preppy Yogini. I've done this on other blogs, but not here. So, I hope that I'm managing to answer most of your questions. If not? I plan on doing another one in time. Thank you again for all of your kindness and understanding.

1. How did you come up with the name "Preppy Yogini"? I did blog piece on this very story about six months ago, called The Bohemian Sloth. When I was doing my yoga teacher training, I was blessed with many fantastic instructors. Unfortunately, one was just hideous. He was a cross between Attila the Hun and the worst Kindergarten teacher ever. He made fun of people. He pushed students to the point of injury and he was simply a rotten person, let alone a terrible instructor. When I questioned his methodology, he spat out, "You're nothing but a preppy yogini". He meant it as the most derogatory slur imaginable. I wear it like a badge of honor now.
2. You talk about Maine a lot. Are you from Maine? Yes...and no. To a true, iconoclastic Mainer, I am not. I wasn't born here. Therefore, I'm from "away". But, I have spent many years here, first as a summer person growing up, and then with my husband and our children. I grew up in California and New York, and went to school in Rhode Island and Massachusetts, before moving to Europe for four years. I enjoy living in Maine, but I also love traveling to other places. I get itchy feet if I'm in one place too long.
3. What made you become a yoga instructor? How did you become one? I had been practicing yoga for years before my first cancer diagnosis in 2003. I had three surgeries in just 7 weeks. It was tough! But, yoga was instrumental in helping me recover. When I was well enough, I resigned from my job in traditional education and studied at Kripalu and Gentle Spirit Yoga for my 200 hour R.Y.T. certification. I felt tremendously encouraged by own instructors and this inspired me to pursue my own path in teaching.
4. What's your favorite yoga style of practice? What do you recommend? That's like asking a mother who her favorite child is! I have honestly enjoyed every form of yoga I've practiced. I believe that every class, regardless of yogic 'arm', has the potential to be fabulous for all levels. It really comes down to the teacher and her willingness to give of herself to her students. For beginners, I generally recommend classes that are Hatha based, or that offer Yoga Foundations. It's a great starting point.
5. You have mentioned being sick. What was wrong? How are you doing? I'm doing much better! A year ago, I was slowly starting to walk around and drive again. Unfortunately, my Sarcoma based cancer returned. This time, my surgery and procedures were even more invasive...and I'm also 8 years older, making my recovery that much more difficult. The form of cancer I have is not treatable by radiation or chemotherapy. Surgery is my only option. I had some pretty intense setbacks, but I'm on the road to recovery again. It's just a very slow road. Think Los Angeles traffic at rush hour slow.
6. Why have you stopped doing book reviews? I am still reading up a storm and look forward to writing reviews again on this blog. When I created Ellen's Thirty Day Book Challenge last Spring, I actually ended up reviewing more than 30 books, since I had an impossible time narrowing my list down. I burned out on writing book reviews for a while, as a result. 
7. I like your writing. Have you been published? Years ago, I was published in Parenting, Mothering, The Doula and several other magazines aimed at that life path. I haven't been published since then. I hope to be again. I'm working on several different pieces...but all seem to be longer than magazine articles. I look forward to continuing my writing. While it would be an honor to be published, I truly write for myself and my own spirit. Anything beyond that would be fresh butter cream icing on a very dense carrot cake.
8. What other hobbies do you enjoy? Beyond writing, reading and yoga, I love design. I think I'm actually a frustrated art director in a yogini's skin! I also love animals...I have two dogs now, but have had horses, cats and one very special bunny during my life. I love good wine, scintillating conversation, travel and long walks on the beach at sunset. Seriously though...I really do love long walks on the beach at sunset.
9. Are you still teaching yoga? Can I join your class? Unfortunately, my last surgery, the complications that ensued, made teaching yoga impossible for me. I am adjusting to a new definition of normal. If you're going to be in coastal Maine or the greater Scottsdale, Arizona areas, I'd be happy to recommend some amazing teachers. I am taking 3-4 classes a week again, and am enjoying the simplicity of being a student at this time.
10. What's next for you? I wish I knew. I really wish I knew! I have no idea. I do know that it's time to figure out who I'm going to be as a grown up. It would be nice if the universe sent out smoke signals to give me a hint. While I'm looking for said clues in the heavens, I'm doing a lot of volunteer work in my community. And drinking far too much tea. 

Thank you again. Best wishes. Enjoy. Namaste!

The Bohemian Sloth

When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.  ~Victor Frankl


I first began taking Yoga classes on a bit of a dare. My friend, Tammie, begged me to go with her. I was an aerobics junkie at the time. I loved going to step aerobics and even wore the (now foolish looking) leotards that Jane Fonda made so popular. At a dinner party at Tammie's beautiful Victorian home, she urged me to come with her. She wasn't sure if she even liked Yoga herself and had only been a few times. A long distance runner, Tammie was looking for something to help her stretch out and relax. She'd found a teacher she really liked, but the Yoga itself presented more of a challenge for her; like me, Tam had a hard time turning off her thoughts and mind. So with her lovingly finagling me to come and see what I thought (and promising me that we could laugh together), I committed I'd join her for the Monday morning class. We'd drop the children off at the day care at the health club so they'd all be together. We even toasted our new adventure with an excellent bottle of red wine.


By Monday, I had no idea why I'd agreed to go. I looked in my drawers and in my closet and had absolutely nothing suitable for a Yoga class. I knew my pink paisley leotards would be inappropriate, as would running shorts. With two young children needing a quick breakfast before we left, I had very little time to think about wardrobe. I literally threw on a pair of  navy blue leggings and a white Polo and hoped it would all be okay. I kicked on a pair of Sperry Topsiders, threw on an L.L Bean fleece and called it good. It was raining. I was dragging two exhausted, cranky preschoolers out of the door before 8 am and I was regretting my decision to go. All in all, the gloomy weather fit my mood.


Once the kids greeted their friends at day care, once my own friend had helped me find a mat and a blanket, and once I felt slightly settled in place, I met the teacher. She was lovely and so down to Earth I couldn't help but adore her immediately. She put my fears at ease and urged me to take 'my practice at my own pace' and just to do the asanas that made me feel comfortable. If I didn't like something, I didn't have to do it. This wasn't a competition. I remember letting out a sigh of relief as the class began.


Little did I know that that one class would change the course of my life. I began to loosen up for the first time ever...both physically and mentally. I became stronger than I had ever been, in body, mind and spirit. I began seeing the links between thoughts and reality. I opened my very closed mind to an entirely new way of experiencing the world. It was, in short, miraculous. After fighting cancer the first time, I became a yoga instructor. It was a great challenge for me because I had to further expand my practice and knowledge beyond the styles of yoga with which I was comfortable. In a sense, it was as if I'd began anew, as there is a great difference between being a student and becoming a teacher. My voracious appetite for knowledge was a boon as I memorized endless terms in Hindi and studied every muscle group in the body.


My moniker actually was given to me, at this time, by an obnoxious master teacher whose class became the bane of my existence. I couldn't stand his preening, self-aggrandizing manner, the way he berated and degraded his students or the inferior way, I'd felt, he explained the poses. Because I needed to become proficient in all forms of yoga before earning my R.Y.T. (Registered Yoga Instructor), I was stuck with Master Contemptible Crabby Pants for at least three months. When Yogi Beastly made one too many objectionable remarks to me, I snapped at him. I reminded him that a good teacher instructs and helps students to perfect a lesson and that a bad teacher belittles to massage his own ego. He erupted in a stream of nasty comments to me, which ended with "You're nothing but a silly little preppy yogini." I smiled. I honestly liked that. Why? It was the first time I'd ever heard him refer to me as a Yogini. 


And so a name was born. What the Gloating Guru bestowed as an insult, I took to heart as a badge of honor.


After 7 years of my own teaching students to appreciate and love Yoga, I now find myself at an impasse. I am, thankfully, able to take classes once again. But, I can no longer work as I once had teaching Yoga. My latest bout of cancer rested in my lower abdominal muscles, necessitating their removal along with the tumor. My strength and ability simply isn't what it once was. Additionally, my sense of style has evolved over the years. I can't imagine wearing a Polo anymore. Long flowing dresses are more my style, as well as chunky necklaces and an arm full of bracelets. My energy level has been quite low since the surgery. I now feel more like The Bohemian Sloth than I do the Preppy Yogini. I'm in search of my next adventure. Wishing for a life I once had is an understandable sentiment. But, I can't allow myself to wallow in regret. I need to move forward towards an unknown destination.


I just will have exchanged my Penny Loafers for Turquoise laden sandals for the walk.

Yoga! Yoga! Yoga!

If I'm losing balance in a pose, I stretch higher and God reaches down to steady me.  It works every time, and not just in yoga.  ~Terri Guillemets


With cancer officially behind me, I am galloping ahead into recovery. Because my particular form of cancer was asymptomatic, the process focuses exclusively on healing my body from both the traumatic and invasive surgery, and the post surgical complications. I've missed yoga more than I can possibly express. Because I've been practicing yoga steadily for 12 years, and teaching for 6 years, having that support mechanism taken away from me was incredibly difficult. Not only was I anxious and in pain, but my usual 'go to' method for dealing with those problems was impossible! So, I'm especially thankful to be back into taking three classes per week. It's given me a way to regain strength in my body, my mind and my spirit.


I've been asked often enough in the past few weeks which poses (or "asanas") seem to be the most healing for me right now. I've put together a little list to give for my fellow yoginis, as well as for those interested in creating a practice. This list is by no means the limit of poses that I am practicing right now. These are only a few of the many that I'm working through during each class. Additionally, my teachers have been wonderful about helping me find what my body is asking for right now. I fully expect to continue to add to this grouping very soon. These just happen to be 'hitting the spot' literally, and metaphorically, at this time. Would I recommend another person to attempt these following major abdominal surgery? Not at all! I went into surgery in pretty good shape. Each person is different, and each procedure effects our bodies differently. So, please talk to your own physician before beginning yoga, or any other exercise program, following any surgical procedure.


Without further ado...here is the list:

Staff Pose (Dandasana) has proven to be the most difficult asana for me post surgery. While it appears to be incredibly simple, the amount of lower abdominal strength that it takes to keep me in proper alignment has been a challenge. I lost much of my involuntary abdominal muscles. What I didn't lose altogether was cut and sewn back together using artificial tissue. Therefore, it's been very difficult for me to sit up without slouching, slumping off to one side or to just give up. I breathe more heavily during this pose than any other one right now. But, I also find that it's helping me to reestablish those muscle, and nerve, connections.

Downward facing dog (Adho Mukha Svanasana) has had the opposite experience in my new 'post surgical' practice. I've found it to be incredibly affirming, exhilarating and inspiring. I've rediscovered strength I was afraid I'd lost forever. Each time I move into Down Dog, I'm reassured that I will overcome these physical obstacles. Additionally, the variations of this pose ("Walking the dog", Standing Split and Half Dog--dropping down to my forearms) have provided me with the ability to work from a place of strength. Down Dog strengthens many different muscle groups all at once. It also has helped me to open up my overly tight hamstrings that had begun to become painful, after all that lying about. I have felt exceptionally motivated to keep moving in my practice when I am in my Adho Mukha Svanasana series.

Sphinx pose has been enormously helpful, as have many of the back bend series asanas. When you lie in a hospital bed, or do a great deal of sitting, your spine compresses. I found that my back became quite painful...simply from doing nothing. Literally. Sphinx was the first back bend I attempted when returning to class. It was as if I had been sitting in the dark for weeks and someone turned on a beautifully shining light! Just opening up my shoulders alleviated nearly all of my back pain. Sphinx pose also was my starting point to move into more challenging back bends, such as Upward Facing Dog, Seal Pose, Locust Pose, Bow and Camel. Back bends, my yoga teacher once told me, are a way of healing the past. Often people who have unresolved issues in their hearts and minds have a very difficult time with them. I found that regularly practicing Sphinx has helped me let go of a lot of the drama the past few months created.

Child's pose (Balasana) was another one that seemed so simple before my surgery, and was such a challenge immediately afterwards. Because my abdomen remained so swollen, and so sore, for a long time, just getting into this position represented some difficulty for me. I began easing into Child's Pose by creating a V with my knees. Now that my flexibility is beginning to return, I'm working diligently to create space by working towards the traditional 'belly on knees'. When used with the 'arms over the shoulders' variation, I've also been able to stretch out tight deltoids. I focus my breath into my lower back, and am able to renew my energy there.

"Legs up the Wall" pose (Viparita karani) has been a salvation for me. I have a very difficult time letting go of my "Monkey Mind". It's as if my brain is constantly flitting from topic to topic, replaying conversations on a loop, creating to do lists and just not turning 'off'. Imagine a Spider Monkey jumping from branch to branch, tree to free. That's the way my brain works most of the time. Regular exercise is the best way for me to keep this bad habit at bay. When that's not possible, my mind runs out of things to think about and begins to worry anxiously and needlessly. Other restorative poses, such as Corpse Pose and Reclining Butterfly, are wonderful. But, they're not as effective in battling my evil Monkey Mind. Legs up the wall gives me a leg up (pun fully intended) in shutting my brain up for ten minutes so that it, too, can relax. Inversions have a spectacular way of taking the guesswork out of restoration. I can't help but sigh in repose.

Finally, if anything is going to get me back into shape, it's going to be Boat Pose(Navasana). I used to be able to hold this pose for ten minutes and carry on a conversation with a class of my own students, and not even think about the difficulty. Times have changed! This pose is now a struggle for me, but it's also one that I've found becomes easier each time I practice it. Beginning with my knees bent in half boat, I have slowly gained strength and am inching my way, slowly, back up to full boat. Am I chatting and laughing? Heck, no! I'm sweating, and would probably swear if if I could get away with it. But, I do find that Boat Pose is helping me to renew, restore and regrow muscle. It just isn't much fun yet.


This series of six poses is not all inclusive to what I'm doing now. But, I do try to include each one of these along with whatever else I'm doing each day. They're helping me me to bring balance back into my life through my yoga practice. I'm mindful to cut out all negative thinking (and this includes "I hate my body now!") because it really does set me back. Full descriptions of each one of these poses are available at Yoga Journal online. Have fun perusing the various asanas! You may just discover a few you'd like to try.


Namaste!

The Garden

In my garden there is a large place for sentiment. My garden of flowers is also my garden of thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful. ~Abram L. Urban

As I have written before, I am, sadly, not an adept gardener. My gardening skills (or lack thereof) are legendary. I can manage to kill even the most hardy of plants in a matter of days. I have even tried to grow herbs in pots on a sunny window sill in my kitchen, and still have found my efforts to go unrewarded. I am somehow able to manage to over-water and dry out my flowers simultaneously. I have never figured out where my deficiencies lie. I'm simply content to admit that I am not, and will never be, one of those extraordinary people like my Grandma Rose, who could take a simple cutting and make an entire plant out of it.

What I lack in ability, however, I try to make up for in appreciation. I delight in other people's gardens. I have friends whose gardens are the most tranquil places on Earth, but at the same, a true reflection of their personalities. One friend, who is incredibly orderly and precise, has the most lustrous roses I've ever seen. She has each type of rose down to an exact science. Her beds are labeled with both the common and Latin names for each species. I have another friend who is a designer. Her garden reflects her intuitive and creative nature. She has wildflowers mixed in with annuals, and native perennials side by side with rare Asian flowers. Yet, it all comes together to create a cohesive, elegant design in a seemingly random fashion. I have loved going to visit Botanical gardens in many of the cities I love. I've enjoyed the variety of natural designs in the Arizona, California, Georgia, Rhode Island and New York. I've daydreamed walking through garden paths in France, Germany, Switzerland, Austria and Italy. Each public garden showcased the natural elements native to the region, but did so in such an aesthetically graceful way, it was just like walking through an art museum outdoors. I've never left a garden feeling anything less than serene.

During one of my yoga classes, I began to picture using the image of the garden as a visualization technique. I asked my students to envision themselves in the garden of their dreams. Some pictured the highly manicured gardens of palaces, such as Versailles or Hearst Castle. Others pictured more Zen inspired creations, like Nanzenjii Temple in Kyoto, Japan. Still others thought about the gardens of their childhood, some with vegetables, rather than flowers. Yet more contemplated a strictly imagined place that exists only in their own daydreams. Each one of my students was able to construct the mental image of the garden that best suited their needs, thoughts and ideals. I asked my students to envision these places as ones they could cultivate on their own, returning to them over and over again. I asked every student to conceptualize this peaceful oasis, and to ruminate on the healing properties of their imagined space. During this exercise we began to notice tiny weeds cropping up in our meditative inner yards. These weeds would begin microscopic, and then begin to grow larger, choking off the plants we'd so carefully constructed in our minds. They'd begin to take over the garden if we didn't immediately cut them off, pull them out by the roots and not allow them to grow in that same space.

The weeds, I explained, represented the negative thoughts we have each day. The flowers, shade trees, helpful herbs and lovely plants symbolize the areas of growth, as well as our positive thoughts and personal strengths. The garden itself is our very soul. As we find the way in which we notice how the weeds our growing in our minds, we can discover ways to 'yank them out by the roots'. We can empower ourselves to prune our thoughts regularly, and to allow the flowers we wish to cultivate to flourish. We can do this by identifying the negative thoughts (the weeds themselves) as they occur through practicing yoga, meditation, prayer, exercise, reading, daydreaming and even, yes, actually spending time in a physical garden. We can create the inner garden of our hopes, dreams, wishes and goals. We just need to remember to sort out the weeds that tell us that we're not good enough, we're not smart enough or we simply don't deserve to have beauty in our lives. These weedy thoughts are insidious. They will creep up when we're low and take over our entire oasis if we're not careful...choking out all the goodness and light. So, we need to make time each day, even if it's only for ten minutes to close our eyes, look for the weeds, and get rid of them.

Hanna Roin once wrote "The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses". I would take her words one step further. I believe that the greatest gift of the garden includes the five senses, but is actually the restoration of our soul's serenity, creativity and contentment. Ask yourself, what does my garden look like? Where are the weeds choking off my flowers? How can I prune them to allow my garden to become inspirational? I'm sure your own garden will be extraordinary.

Renewal

We need quiet to examine our lives openly and honestly.....spending quiet time alone gives your mind the opportunity to renew itself and create order. ~ Susan Taylor

As many of you have gathered, I've been on a break from blogging for a short time. With a great deal going on in my family's life right now, I realized I needed to step back and focus on life as it's happening, rather than writing about it. I will be back before long with, I hope, a renewed spirit, invigorated energy and original thoughts for the summer. As I gain inspiration, I hope that I'll be able to pass those ideas along and generate some joyfulness in the lives of Preppy Yogini readers. Additionally, I hope to come back with an enriched sense of creative energy. So...how do I hope to gain all of this renewed vivacity? By living in the moment with my family, by continuing to put my heart into my Yoga classes and by reading wonderful books. I remember, with great delight, my summer reading lists that would come out at the end of each school year. I looked forward to them as being books to read on the beach, in the hammock or at camp. Each book seemed to draw me a little more deeply into the magic of summer.

I have been reading quite a few novels recently that have been designated as "Young Adult" books. I'm not sure how each one has crossed my path, but as I read, I have found that these stories are brilliant for readers of all ages. I find it unfortunate that bookstores and libraries need to label them for teens because this list I will share below contains, what I believe, is wonderful writing and amazing storytelling. So...instead of just browsing in the regular fiction section, take a glimpse at the Young Adult novels....in both the classics and bestsellers. You may find that your next source of inspiration...or even just a deeply moving read...comes from this area. I have put this list together to help animate and encourage you to move out of your literary comfort zone. My only advice is not to label these novels in your mind...but read them with the open heart of youth. I hope you enjoy!

Young Adult Books for all ages:

The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak

Reality Check by Peter Abrahams

Beautiful Creatures by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl

Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater

If I Stay by Gayle Forman

North of Beautiful by Justina Chen Headly

The Coffin Quilt by Ann Rinaldi

The Summer of Naked Swimming Parties by Jessica Anya Blau

Maggie's Story by Dandi Daley Mackall

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman

Sweetness in the Belly by Camilla Gibb

Before I Die by Jenny Downham

Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neal Hurston

The Awakening by Kate Chopin

A Separate Peace by John Knowles

The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis

So....curl with one of these great books and enjoy your summer reading list.

The Weaver: a Yoga Meditation

We each have our own lives to pursue, our own kind of dream to be weaving. ~ Louisa May Alcott

Each of the yoga classes I teach forms a pattern. My students are comfortable with a small amount of variation in our routine. Overall, however, each class remains steadfast in its comforting, comfortable routine. We begin by centering ourselves with the breath, quieting body and mind. We move through a series of Asanas (poses) to increase strength, flexibility and overall fitness. At the close of each class, we end with a time of visualization, restoration and relaxation. For the next blog posts in the coming weeks, I'd like to share a few of my favorite visualization exercises. These have come to mean a great deal to my students...and I hope you will find these offerings to be helpful, restful and inspiring. Some of these are variations of stories I've learned from other teachers. But, many are of my own creation....simply born from ideas that sprung up during class. The story below is my own.

The Weaver

Envision walking along an ocean path until you come to a beautiful cottage. It's everything you could have dreamed of....the perfect white fence, the rosemary growing by the garden gate, and the beautiful view of the sea. There are lilacs and beach roses growing on bushes on either side of the cottage. As you inhale, you can smell the flowers, the salty air, the herbs and the sunshine. You can hear the birds calling overhead...seagulls and sandpipers and robins. The cottage door is open, and you let yourself into a bright open space. The wide pine boards on the floor glisten with a loving patina. The morning light is illuminating a sparse, but welcoming, room. The dried herbs hanging in the beams overhead are homey. The piece of furniture that dominates the room is a large wooden loom. It's clearly been in use for many years, and the tapestries hanging around the small room are testaments to its usefulness. You see the weaver seated a small bench, moving the shuttle back and forth with effortless movements. Her hands are in fluid motion and you never notice her changing yarn colors, even as variation shades appear on her work before you. You sit down next to her. You admire her work, while being truly amazed at both her swiftness and her perfection of skill. She indicates skeins of threads to be handed to her, and you approve of the lovely array of colors hanging on the wall.

As you watch the tapestry's images begin to unfold under the weaver's capable hands, you realize that this isn't a simple design. You see a portrait of yourself begin to emerge from the interwoven threads. However, this isn't a snapshot created by a camera. Rather, it's unfolding as a likeness of you....the essential, authentic, internal you. It's a portrait of the 'you' that you truly are inside. It captures your dreams, your hopes, your deepest wishes. The tapestry continues to expand showing you the 'you' you knew you could always be, the 'you' you wish to become, the 'you' that is beautiful, talented, confident and filled with promise. You remain mesmerized by the weaver's deftness with her shuttle, and her hands become the source of your gaze, as you watch, captivated by her ability to see within you...and to make that vision a reality in the tapestry.

And yet, you begin to notice that the hands creating the piece of weaving on the loom are your own hands. The image you have created is your own image. You realize that you have arrived at your own cottage, designed by you, to weave your own self-portrait.

Never forget that you are the weaver of your own destiny.

Fear and Effort vs. Laziness

"Laziness may appear attractive, but work gives satisfaction.”

~ Anne Frank

I have to admit that, despite being a yoga instructor I'm an incredibly lazy person. My favorite place in the world is my favorite chair...with matching foot stool...in the sunny corner of my living room. If left to my own daydream, I'd be content to read stacks of books (that would be miraculously delivered to my doorstep, free of charge) and have a self-refilling tea maker right next to me. As I'd read, I'd get so lost in my fictional world, that I wouldn't need to get up to do even the most rudimentary tasks. I envision just paying bills from my laptop (conveniently plugged in next to me), having meals delivered and having my dogs walk on a treadmill twice a day. While this may sound like the epitome of boredom to some, it happens to be a secret wish of mine to read, to sip Earl Gray, and never be disturbed. However, despite the tantalizing possibilities of Kindle readers allowing me to download books immediately, and the fact that I do have a dog door to let my animals out, I do realize that important parts of life exist outside my 'cozy spot'. During the time that I'm content to huddle under my favorite fleece throw and meander, in the literary sense, for days on end, the world continues to have importance outside my home.

But, where does one find the motivation to get up and try new things, to put oneself "out there" to be hurt, ridiculed or just to fail? Our lives feel so peaceful when we remain in our comfort zones...whether these are literal places, like my comfortable corner, or metaphorical ones; such as situations we'd prefer not to tackle. I had a long conversation with my daughter, Caroline, this weekend about trying new things. Despite being a bit of a daredevil now, Caroline used to have legitimate fears about trying a new activity if she felt she might fail. Whether it was beginning on a new piece of gymnastics equipment or getting up in front of church to sing a solo, her fear of failure was palpable. Over the years, she learned to ask herself what she was afraid of. She came to the conclusion that her fear was less about complete failure than it was of her terror at not being the best at any skill. A competitive person since her toddler days, Caroline was accustomed to finding success at most things she put her mind to; from learning to read as a 3 year old to skiing Black Diamond slopes by age 6, she knew what her strengths were and she was uncomfortable stepping out of them. I asked her if she felt that her Dad and I had put pressure on her to be 'the best'. Caroline answered that her pressure level is intense...and internal. So, it was with great humility that she picked up a new sport a year ago: tennis. Although Caroline had competed at gymnastics, soccer, skiing, ice hockey, softball and sailing, tennis was completely new to her. Other than a few lessons when she was 7, tennis wasn't her area of expertise, and Caroline knew that she'd be one of the few girls trying out for the tennis team who had never played before. She's still learning the game, the important skills and the timing. But, I have to admire her: despite her highly ambitious nature, Caroline's learned to move out of her comfort zone...to have gotten out of her metaphorical sunny spot by the window...to dive into a completely untapped dexterity. She's not the best. It's not an easy place for her to be intellectually. But, she was willing to put forth the effort to gain a new talent. Caroline is a natural athlete, but it still takes a great deal of moxie to be completely untrained to step out onto the courts each time.

I have to admit that I admire Caroline's chutzpah greatly. All the time I spend closeted in my imaginary world of reading, I am not allowing myself the opportunity to expand upon my 'real life' knowledge or experience. I have to ask myself a tough question: am I actually lazy or do I just lack the drive to make an effort to try new things? It's a hard query. Would I rather think of myself as slothful and apathetic rather than scared and cowardly? I look at opportunities I've had and missed. I wonder about the "road not taken." I've justified each of these side-stepped junctures as 'not being right'. But, how will I ever know if I don't just pick myself out of my chair, put on my 'big girl shoes' and give something new a whirl?

One chance I didn't let slip by was learning to ski. I have to admit, I was scared out of my wits. My husband is an accomplished skier, and our children began ski school at very young ages. I would have remained firm in my happy place at the Lodge, content to remain the designated mitten holder and hot chocolate maker had it not been for my friend, Debra. Because she didn't ski also, she spent the down time with me, in our cozy sweats, as we attempted to learn to knit (another skill I have yet to master). However, Debra had the determination to sign us up for grown up ski school. At age 36, I was sure I'd never even be able to stand up, let alone barrel down a mountain. After a couple of days of complete hissy fit tears and a great deal of drama, we learned how to navigate the basic slopes. Had it not been for my friend, I'd still be making a mess of dreadfully ugly knitted scarves in the rented condo. Yet, she gave me the motivation to dive, literally, over my fear of skiing. I may still ski with the baby class. I might even be passed by a toddler with a pacifier in his mouth. But, I can happily say that I do know how to ski...when, for decades, I was content to sit in the warmth of the lodge, allowing this opportunity to pass me by.

I have set a great many goals for myself only to have them remain shelf-bound. I'd love to learn to paint, but am afraid my work will be ugly and amateurish. I'd like to learn to sew but am terrified my designs will resemble a 4th grade home economics disaster. I'd even love to sky dive....and I don't even think it's necessary to relay my apprehension over that one. Most of all, I'd love to write a book, but am scared it will be laughed at so hard, by prospective publishers, tears will come out of their eyes. I think it's time I adopted more of my daughter's pizazz and allowed myself to "close my eyes and leap", as the song in "Wicked" implores.

I hope you'll try "Defying gravity" in some area of your life, too.

Cross Training

"Art is individualism, and individualism is
a disturbing and disintegrating force.
There lies its immense value.
For what it seeks is to disturb monotony of type,
slavery of custom, tyranny of habit, and
the reduction of man to the level of a machine." --- Oscar Wilde

As a Yoga instructor, I find that people from many different backgrounds come to take my classes. Because I make a point of teaching in a "western friendly" style, my classes seem to be more approachable to those students who are nervous about beginning something that's just too eastern for them. However, my philosophy, intent and structure are purely in traditional Yoga form. Because of where I teach, at my local YMCA, I've been able to reach a broader audience than I would if I taught in a more Yoga centered studio. At times, this is tougher on me....as I don't work with many people who can support my own Yoga practice. But, it's given me the chance to help people, of all stages in life, discover Yoga. I have had several older students who had never done any formal exercise before taking my class. I have had men and women coming out of rehabilitation from injury or illness. I have had mothers whose yoga class is their only time for themselves during the week. I have taught master Yogi's who could be my instructor, rather than the other way around. Interestingly though, the most fascinating group of students has been those who come to Yoga for cross training.

My son's hockey team had me come and teach flexibility and breath work. It was intriguing to work with a group of 16 to 18 year old boys, all in the peak of physical conditioning, but who were unable, in most cases, to touch their toes. The Coach's goal for me to was to also assist these athletes in learning to control their breathing. I've also worked with Triathletes in their quest for increased body awareness and adaptability. This led to my leading classes for the local high school cross-country team, and their coach's intention for a well rounded, relaxed and lithe team. All of these experiences highlighted how important it is not to peg ourselves in any one particular pattern for too long. Monotony can easily lead to stagnation and the cessation of growth and development. While any of these athletes could run (or skate) circles around me, there were none who were able to match my adeptness in flexibility. I came away feeling blessed that I had something to offer people who are far more fit than I am. But, I also began to see that I was just as guilty of ignoring other areas of my own adaptability. I had grown comfortable and complacent in my yoga routine and wasn't expanding in my own realm of learning either. I began adding cardio and strength training to my workouts.

All of these experiences have shown me how crucial it is to cross train...not just for our bodies, but in my minds. We can become so pleased with our patterns that we rarely vary them. We might have one particular genre of book we prefer to read. We might discover that we get stuck in a rut with one favorite food or beverage. We might even get too comfortable in our relationships.We might buy the same clothes over and over and wake up to find we've had the same style since high school or have only appreciated one medium of art our whole lives. All of these 'pattern based' forms of similarity and continuance can sneak up on us. We may not even realize that we're being tedious and repetitive until something jars us out of complacency. This can be a gentle nudge, such as a friend loaning us a book that's not our typical read. Or, this shove can be more literal...when our doctor warns us to make some big changes to our lifestyle for our health's sake.

These breaks in routine, likeness and uniformity can be scary at first. It's tough to do something completely different! We feel confident in our method of behavior and in our tastes and skills. By switching that around, we risk looking foolish by lacking in expertise. For example, when I was 36 years old, I decided to learn to ski. Believe me, it was not a pretty sight. I was ready to quit more than a dozen times on the very first day. While the rest of my family was carving up the mountain at Sugarloaf, I was mastering the fine art of 'snowplowing' with toddlers who had pacifiers in their mouths....and those same babies passed me on the bunny hill. It was embarrassing, and I fell so many times that my left hip's bruising was swollen in a 6" diameter. I simply couldn't stop and my daughter had to ski in front of me, backwards, in order to act as a shield between myself and innocent bystanders. And yet, it was liberating! I was doing something new, something I had never mastered and something that I did want to explore. While I'll never be Picabo Street, and certainly won't be winning any Olympic medals, I can ski just well enough to travel on most 'green' trails. Learning to ski, even in a rudimentary way, opened my mind and heart to other possibilities that may tease just outside of my reach.

When we choose to cross train, we make the decision to step off the path we're currently traveling. In doing so, we may find that we gain confidence in other areas. Just by expanding our bubble of knowledge in one zone, we may see that we've learned something fresh to apply to other parts of our lives. It may make us more willing to take a chance and investigate outside what's familiar. This doesn't mean that venturing off into the unknown, whether it's learning to ski or taking a painting class, is going to be easy. Having grown up in a very 'end result' family, I had never truly understood the philosophy of "process before product". Such a concept was alien to me until recently. But, I've come to realize that, just by exploring a concept I've never attempted, I can learn more about myself...and bring that knowledge forward into whatever else I choose to do.

I will never be an artist in a juried art show, but I've discovered that I like to paint. I can't carry a tune, but I enjoy singing. The Boston Marathon will not be on "Bucket List" but I can run in my own way for a couple of miles. I may never be on the NY Times Bestseller List, but I adore writing. Cross training means more than swimming, when one is used to hiking. It means allowing our minds to open up to a skill or an idea that is totally new to us. In doing so, we'll discover that our lives will be enriched exponentially.

March Madness

"March is the month of expectation, the things we do not know. The persons of Prognostication are coming now." - Emily Dickinson

I have to admit that if I were ranking months of the year, in order of my enjoyment and delight, March would come in last. March, especially in Northern New England, isn't a month "that comes in like a lion and leaves like a lamb." Rather, it brings with it freak snow storms, followed by torrential rains, epic amounts of mud and a enormous amount of the unexpected. March is an impossible month to predict. It can be both frustrating and exciting. March seems to bring out the very worst in people, but also glimmers of the very best. Grumpy tempers can flare up, partly due to prolonged cabin fever. Yet, I've also seen people desire to transcend the nastiness and swallow down terse remarks to surprise me with unyielding kindness and compassion. With all these complications, why is March a time of immense growth?

I'm just as guilty, of allowing the sense of hope to drain from my body, as the next person. Even as a yoga instructor and a theology student, this time of year presents the biggest challenge to my body, mind and spirit. I find myself defensive, clumsy, short-tempered and anxious. I work very hard on not sniping at those closest to me, and by not allowing myself to sink into a perpetual state of peevishness. It's not an easy task this time of year. The expression "madder than a March hare" dates back to medieval times when wild rabbits would emerge from their dens to mate, and would be unusually aggressive towards other animals and towards one another. I believe this phrase, co-opted by Lewis Carroll in "Alice in Wonderland", is applicable to humans, as well. As we emerge from our winter slumber, mentally and physically deprived of sunlight, we are beset with petulance and annoyance.

Without all of these obstacles in our paths, however, we would never learn to overcome them, whether in March, under an eternal cloud of bad moods and limited sunshine, or throughout the year. March may be a time of bickering and ill humor, but it also provides us with an invaluable opportunity for overcoming the very worst of our natures. Without the darkness, there is no light to be seen clearly. Without challenges, there is no occasion for personal growth. In the absence of sufficiency, we are urged to go out and become seekers. In other words, if the month wasn't a lousy one, we'd have no reason to get off our tuffets of complacency and work harder to become stronger in body and mind. March gives us that amazing chance: to become dissatisfied with the way things are and to yearn something more for our lives.

During my yoga classes this time of year, I add in extra rounds of Sun Salutations. This series of choreographed movements is designed to unite body and mind, and wake up the senses. Sun salutations are defined as "a series of twelve yoga postures performed in a single graceful flow with each movement coordinated with the breath." Called "surya namaskar" in Sanskrit, Sun Salutations have an exceptional ability to increase flexibility and strength, to focus thoughts onto the present moment and to raise endorphin levels. Combining all of these benefits, this series of asanas are a powerful method of dealing with the erratic feelings of March. Sun Salutations are practiced in many Yoga styles, but all are designed to leave the yogini with a renewed sense of purpose, with inspiration and with a less sluggish body. Sun Salutations aren't a miracle drug that will make the user feel the delights of June weather, while still under March's cloud bank, but they will give the yogini a greater sense of control over her emotional responses.

We are now left with a choice of how to view March. We can see it as Garrison Keilor does, "March is the month that God designed to show those who don't drink what a hangover is like", and feel wretched for 31 days. Or, we can find ourselves admiring Marianne Williamson's philosophy of "March can be a miracle in a shift of perception". I imagine most of us will land somewhere in the middle...muddling through and looking for those exceptional moments of grace, while still working to overcome the feelings of foggy dread. Let's make a goal to take note of the dread, analyze it for what it is (and for what it isn't), and discover our own paths to reemerging in the April light.

Mardi Gras

“You must treat everyday like a present and open it with great expectation.” ~ John De Lemme

Mardi Gras. Fat Tuesday. Carnivale. New Orleans. Rio De Janeiro. Venice. The time period, in the liturgical calendar between Epiphany and Ash Wednesday, marks one of the most celebratory delineations of time in the earliest Christian calendar. What began as a simple period of joy became synonymous with decadence, lasciviousness and hedonism.Yet, regardless of one's religious beliefs or affiliations, Mardi Gras has its own delectable spirit that is both captivating, and feels a little dangerous. It is the idea that all inhibitions can be released before a period of austerity. It encapsulates the impression of absolute license for freedom proceeding deprivation. It's the purging of animal impulses before the mastery of them. It's retrogression of composure before the ultimate test of asceticism.

Rather than give an easily found, and utterly fascinating, full history of Mardi Gras, I would like to explore why this holiday is captivating to so many of us. Few people live by the true liturgical year any longer. Lent is rarely a time of fasting and self-mortification in the 21st century. If observed at all, most people I know try to give up a bad habit, such as smoking or junk food. This is less about trying to deprive oneself as Christ fasted in the desert, tempted by the Devil. These relinquishment's are much more about letting go of something we shouldn't be doing in the first place. Like New Year's resolutions, these are begun with the very best of intentions but generally, without a conscious effort to become Christ-like in the process. Additionally, like most New Year's resolutions, these promises for self-improvement are usually begun with the very best of intentions but fall short within a week or two. I'll never forget the year my friend, Debra (a sweets fanatic) gave up desserts. I gave up shopping the same Lent. As we walked through the Mall, I pulled her away from Godiva's immense chocolate covered strawberries, as she gently led me away from Ann Taylor. We were like two addicts, trying desperately to be sponsors for one another, but failing horribly. As she bought her box of truffles and I my blouse, we promised to hang onto them for one another two weeks, just until Easter Sunday, when we'd exchange them as gifts of bonded friendship to one another. We didn't even make it home from Portland before we were digging through the two parcels. On the one hand, we felt horribly guilty. On the other, we secretly delighted in our sins. It was a dangerous combination.

That experience taught me something valuable: being forbidden makes the acts we're trying to avoid all the more delicious. We, as fallen, wretched humans, are prone to deep desires and desperate wants. We are tempted and we can resist, but we often fail. Mardi Gras may seem riotous and deplorable to many, but what it really does is to tap into our base natures of rapaciousness. I believe that the reason this holiday is so attractive is because we know that "anything goes" has a time limit. We understand that our days of infatuation are, indeed, numbered. Perhaps the early designers of these times of revelry knew that people would be more likely to succeed during Lent if they were given free rein the time period preceding. One of my first teenage jobs was at Dunkin' Donuts. The store manager told me that I was allowed to eat as many doughnuts as I wanted. I have to admit, I was more than just a bit of a glutton the first few days. I sampled the glazed, Boston Creme and the blueberry. I gorged on the cinnamon, the chocolate and the jelly filled. I feasted on the sour cream, the maple frosted and the apple fritter. By the end of my 5th day at work, I was not only disgusted with myself, but never wanted to eat another doughnut again in my life. This experience was thirty years ago. I have never eaten another doughnut since. Is my doughnut feeding frenzy anything like the intention behind Mardi Gras? Do we need to move through a time of extreme indulgence to teach ourselves self-discipline?

In my yoga classes, I try to teach a balance in all areas of the class. We practice willpower, self-restraint and control in our breath, in the movements of our bodies and in the thought patterns of our minds. Yet, there are asanas in which I lead movement for the pure exaltation of being alive and well. The Warrior poses are

a good example of this phenomenon. They do require a singleness of thought and focus, and yet, they feel utterly empowering. The delight to be gained from practicing Warrior is heady; it allows the Yogini to feel mighty, beautiful, desirable, exceptional and even a little racy. There is a powerful sense of being when in Warrior. It feels at once self-controlled and alluring. Warrior is a highly transforming series of dynamic poses.

Mardi Gras, for all its decadence, its mystery and its ribaldry is ultimately about just such a transformation: from the boundaries of gluttony to be remade into the self-control over weakness.It's very difficult to overcome our useless attempts at discipline unless we have tired of them. Additionally, it's harder to see the metamorphosis into the enlightened life if we don't understand the transitory attractions of the alternative. This is not to say that we must all rip off our clothing and fall down in a drunken heap on Bourbon Street to understand the value of seeking spiritual illumination.What Mardi Gras has the potential to create is a way past those tiring impulses and a way to see more brightly see the window of inspiration.

Whether you feast on King Cakes tonight, or share a cocktail with friends, I hope the coming of new awakening awaits each of you. As we begin our magical transformations from spiritual worms into butterflies, I pray that these weeks inside your own personal chrysalis bring you the radiance you are meant to develop.

"The journey between what you once were and who you are now becoming is where the dance of life really takes place." ~ Barbara De Angelis