Donation-based Power Yoga classes are coming very soon!

Classes will be held at Conviction Crossfit in the Erie Airpark at 10:00 a.m. and I’ll be posting our first class date very soon. Classes will be an hour long, and you must bring your own yoga mat and any props that you need.

Since these are classes run on donations, please know that what you give is personal and private. I never want you to feel that you can’t come to a yoga class for financial reasons. Donations will be used to purchase yoga props and mats to have at the gym for community use.

That being said, here are some guidelines:

• Classes are held in a hangar (how cool is that?), which has a concrete floor with a partial “matted” floor. There are no yoga mats at this time to provide; please bring your own mat and props.
• Please layer your clothing accordingly and bring water to drink.
• The owners are still building out their space, so there is no bathroom yet. Boy, am I selling this or what?
• I really love you guys.

This is a grassroots endeavor and I am really looking forward to what this will become. Feel free to leave comments and/or thoughts; I read every single one. Or you may email me at mary@pantier.com.

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My breathing and visualization and relaxation stuff didn’t work very well, to be honest. I realized, while I was trying to use them, that I’ve been holding my breath a lot. I haven’t practiced visualization in some time, and it was difficult to call on the skill when it was so rusty. And methods of relaxation? A glass of wine down the hatch would have had better results that my own efforts.

Someone was doing something to me that I was allowing and that was painful, and in the moment I was severely unpracticed at coping at all. And the most interesting part? I was fighting against it still with my anxiousness.

And I thought, wow. Wow. This is the ol’ universal skillet, hitting me on the head again so that I finally get the point.

How can I set myself up to be better able to breathe in difficult situations? Is there a way to practice and see, in my mind’s eye, a really fantastic outcome here? What do I do to relax my efforts, in this moment, to be more fully present?

Today I read this from Sally Kempton:

I’ve always found Guru Purnima, the full moon day of July, to be a time when both the blessing and the challenge of the Teacher are most fully present, most profoundly available. So today is a great day for inquiry. You might ask yourself, “Where is the inner teacher guiding me now? What is the next edge on my learning curve? How am I serving? How could I be showing up more fully for my life?”

Now, up until today, I had never heard of Guru Purnima. Even after twelve years, yoga is a constant learning curve for me, and teachers and students of yoga are always saying things like this that seem to knock me flat on my rear-end, making me feel awkward and immature. But on the other hand, in these moments there is such contemplation and intensity in the questions that I can’t help snatching them up and wrestling with them for a while.

And back to the vein of honesty, I had been wrestling with those questions anyway. So here is my personal challenge, and I want you to join me. It’s a month-long one.

Let’s find our stability.

No matter what school of yoga you love and are practicing, this is accessible. For instance, in Iyengar yoga, it’s working with an outer spiral of the lower legs and an inner spiral of the upper legs. In Anusara, it’s “shins in, thighs out.” For Ashtangis, it might be working the four corners of the feet to root the pose and engaging mulabandha, effectively organizing the pose. The most beautiful part is this. Figuring out how to stand effectively on our legs gives us legs to stand on.

Imagine.

Practice every day, even if for only five minutes in tadasana or uttanasana. When you start finding your proficiency, switch it up a bit by practicing utkatasana or virabhadrasana II.

I think once I get the hang of it in virabhadrasana II, I just might go back for another one of those deep tissue massages…

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Some of you have asked if I “do” anything other than yoga. The answer? Yes. As of about two months ago, that is. And I have to be honest, this “other stuff” that I’m doing? It’s saved my yoga practice.

But I’d like to back up a little bit before I explain that last sentence.

During my last pregnancy (just a year and a half ago), I began having some painful things happen in my lower back and hips. Pretty normal, really, for pregnancy, but long lasting. Post-pregnancy, I began chiropractic care, which helped a lot. But honestly, I felt as though I was really relying on those appointments in order to live with pain. So a couple of months ago, I changed my diet. And it helped immensely. I’ve always had a love affair with nutrition, but these last several weeks have brought that up to a whole new level.

And in addition to my back pain disappearing completely (I have waited so long to say that), my physical recovery time when I work hard in yoga or in other activities has improved vastly.

Jeez. I sound like an infomercial. What a cheeseball. Sorry. I’m just so incredibly grateful and happy and relieved to be able to play with my boys, every day, without having to be so careful about how I pick them up or yell in alarm when I see my Kindergartener running at me to jump on my back.

My health is everything. To me, to my marriage, and to my children.

Before making some changes to support my health, my yoga practice was suffering greatly, and I noticed that I avoided teaching several poses because there was no way to demonstrate them if needed. If I practiced too aggressively or even tried to push the boundaries of where I knew I was, boy did I pay for it. It would take a lot of rest, many trips to the chiropractor, and a lot of Advil.

I started working out at butt-early in the morning at a place called Conviction CrossFit. Let me warn you, I’ve never been an athlete. I didn’t grow up playing organized sports of any kind. I’ve never been coached. And this is soooo opposite of my yoga practice that I was really scared at first. I feel very comfortable and feminine in my yoga practice and in my teaching, but there is a strength and warrior-ness in Crossfit training that I’ve never experienced…and I am loving it.

I encourage you to seek out that “thing” that will enhance your health. Whether it’s diet, or running, or hiking, or being on the water, whatever it is. For my husband for so many years, it was cycling. For another friend, it’s triathlons. For yet another, it’s moving back and forth between different styles of yoga.

For me now, it’s CrossFit.

And I can almost do an unassisted pullup.

It’s going to make my chataranga dandasana rock this world.

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I got up, dug through my dresser drawers for my favorite red yoga pants and pulled on a tank top, washed my face, brushed my teeth and headed downstairs with my baby now balanced on my left hip. There was just enough time to get the boys ready, in a non-rushed way (always best; read here), so that I could take a yoga class this morning.

I didn’t think to check the schedule.

When class began, I noticed that I was in a beginner class. Level 1. No big deal, I like Level 1 classes very much. But what I had forgotten is how hard they are! Movement is very slow, very deliberate, and very refined. There was clarification on mula bandha and uddiyana bandha. The focus was on moving in stillness; not restoratively per se, but mindfully.

Why oh why do we move away from this kind of class?

Over and over again, I heard “use your breathing systems” and “organize the pose.” What a luxury to hear this, to be in tune with this, to do this. To organize, specifically.

Take your home or your desk, for instance. When there is clutter and disorganization there, don’t you feel stress? A little tightness in the chest or shoulders? As though you can’t find something?

When we take the time to organize, to put things in a better spot, or to simply declutter the pose and the mind…we breathe easier and with less effort. We can concentrate more fully and feel more connected to the pieces of ourselves: our arms, our legs, our pelvis, our spine, our top palate. We can move from the external to the internal, and from there, we learn to move from the internal back out to the external.

Today, my intention is to keep it simple.

There’s freedom there.

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I’ve taken a couple of days to digest the experience of the intensive. And I suppose there should be a preface to this post with a little background information.

I’m a wrestler.

I’ve wrestled a lot throughout my life with spirituality, duality, non-duality, alternative lifestyle, Christianity, yoga, and philosophy. I wasn’t raised as a yogin. In fact, I practiced asana diligently for about six years before becoming comfortable chanting the sound, Aum, though I’ve always loved being in a class when everyone else was chanting. I’ve never been to India and I don’t foresee a pilgrimage there in my near future, but I love to read about all of your journeys out there and vicariously live through you in secret.

I am what is referred to as a “householder yogin.” One who cannot afford the time or resources away from family for months at a time for immersions with teachers. One who balances soccer games and gymnastics for preschoolers, baseball games because I love them, and who colors her hair, and not with henna, because I’m afraid of going gray.

I wrestle a lot.

But on Sunday morning, I walked. In the words of Thich Nhat Hanh, I walked as though my feet were kissing the Earth. No wrestling thoughts; just the gentle stir of a breeze, the sweet, sweet smells of spring, and the soft quiet of morning. A pause here and there. A peek over a railing and down into the water flowing by, which I couldn’t quite hear since the snowmelt in the mountains hasn’t happened yet. Passed by a furniture store that I’ve driven by for years to finally notice its name: Joyful Furniture. Joyful Furniture! Amazing.

And it brought me to this. This workshop was an honor. An honor to learn with new eyes how to see what people sometimes can’t say verbally yet shout through their bodies. An honor to sit with another’s joy and sadness and to taste curiosity and sweetness. To see strength, surrender, and innate wisdom. To become aligned with what is. Whatever it is. Whenever it is.

And, as one woman put it, to trust the dive.

Here are some photo highlights of the day.

De assisting a 3rd trimester momma in Upavista Konasana.

I love this picture.

Demonstration of Vrksasana in the 3rd trimester, using the wall for balance and opening in both the chest and hips.

Postpartum demonstration, showing how to twist in Jathara Parivartanasana with bolsters.

An explosion of heart! Can’t you just feel it? Upavista Konasana partner work.

Beginning to quiet down for closing the workshop.

Peaceful momma, peaceful baby.

To see the entire gallery of photos from the intensive, please click here or go to the Photos page.

Related posts:

1. A little setback.
2. A day for laughing.
3. Deliciousness.

It’s been immensely interesting to me that each day of the intensive has had a different vibe to it. On the first, we were all a little nervous, getting to know each other’s stories, and feeling expectant (yep, a word not just for the moms-to-be…) about the workshop.

The second, well, the second I didn’t get to stay for very long (more about that here), and today? Today was a day for laughing.

After our morning meditation (which for some reason was extremely challenging for me today – I was the master of fidgeting. Ugh.), Marcia Solomon (Yoga Workshop teacher and Sanskrit scholar) led us through the correct pronunciation of asanas. It was beautiful and familiar but difficult all at once. It was, as Marcia described, “vinyasa for the tongue.”

After our Sanskrit lesson, De led us through an asana practice for the second trimester.

And then there was more laughing.

Mostly because of our guest speakers, doula presenters Karena Lindell and Lee Macik, but also because of this speaker, Cynthia Morris, certified Life Coach.

There was a difficult point during today, however. Linda Sparrowe, editor-in-chief of Natural Solutions magazine, talked about grief and depression around losing a baby. I have to be honest, while today was very fulfilling and enlivening, this particular topic caused me to pause. For a couple of hours, actually. This, oh this, reached down deep inside to touch a very tender part of me. A tucked away part. A not forgotten part. Our baby who wasn’t. And even though we have three beautiful boys, it was powerful to remember that time and know that compassion lies in the ability to surrender to the process of letting go, which Linda so delicately confirmed is very different than giving up.

This is where yoga is a refuge. A place where emotions can pass through us and we can be soft and open as we are ready and as we feel safe.

I’m so thankful for this place. And I’m so, so very thankful for the ability to laugh and to love and to exhale joy.

And for the opportunity to hold ourselves as tenderly as we hold our babies.

Related posts:

1. Walk as though your feet are kissing the Earth.
2. Deliciousness.
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The stomach bug hit our house this morning at 5:15 a.m. My poor preschooler, who always gets hit the worst, is the first man down. And, as always, I start praying.

“Dear Lord, please spare me from this.” “Dear Lord, please help my children stay healthy.” “Dear Lord, please, please, please don’t let my husband or me get this…please???”

I’m not sure yet if my belly is having sympathy symptoms or fighting the good fight, but I’ve been sitting outside of the yoga studio for two hours now. I’ve even taken a little snooze here and there. But oh how I miss being in there this morning. I miss the creaky wood floors. The indirect lighting that uncovers interesting pictures of Guruji, statues of Ganesha, and strategically placed wooden artifacts. I miss learning, and I miss the new connections being made.

But it’s pretty cozy in my car for now. There are soft rain showers today and the sounds and smell of the rain are always soothing and comfortable. Every now and then, I see a break in the clouds over the mountains and can see lots of fresh snow up there. My peppermint tea is helping my plight. And of course, Boulder’s always a good spot for people watching.

So I’ll continue with my “car yoga” as David Bowie rocks on KBCO for a few more minutes and then take a little walk in the rain. This morning I’m reminded of a point yesterday when De prepared us for guided breathing and relaxation by saying, “If you feel sleepy, it’s ok. If you fall asleep, it’s ok. It’s good to rest.”

Sometimes, I swear she’s talking right to me and me alone. This morning, it’s been good to rest. Have you done that lately?

It’s ok, you know.

Here are some pics from this morning’s asana practice and physiology lecture on the stages of pregnancy.

This momma demonstrates softening of the belly for baby in Virabhadrasana II. It’s amazing how much we grip the abdominal muscles until we give ourselves the permission to release.

Keeping the back concave in Prasarita Padottanasana during the 2nd trimester.

De adds support for a momma in her 3rd trimester.

De demonstrates Supta Baddha Konasana using props to give mommas space to breath while opening their hips.

A labor and delivery nurse/doula discusses the physiology of the woman’s body during each trimester.

Students taking notes.

And…my walk back to the car. A little different from yesterday’s picture of outside, yes? That’s Colorado for you.

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Today, I tasted community.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to be and practice here: The Yoga Workshop. This is one of my favorite places on Earth. And on Earth Day, no less.

And in this, my favorite yoga studio, one of my favorite women, De West, brought together women in all stages of life and motherhood to gather for a Prenatal Yoga Intensive.

Not just to gather. To savor what it is to be a woman. There was a curiosity, a sensuality, a warrior attitude, and an honoring process for this ability to create life, to labor, and to birth.

And this is just day one.

It’s going to be a delicious three more days.

My path to the studio…a walking meditation. Doesn’t Boulder in the springtime just take your breath away?

And oh, the smell of these trees. My heart beats a little faster every year when I smell these trees.

My mat and notebook, all ready for the day.

De’s altar, honoring the fertility process.

De reading a passage from St. Francis of Assisi, a gift from her Grandmother.

“Come to me” practice for fertility: Parighasana variations.

Parsvottanasa at the wall.

Malasana.

Upavista Konasana.

Laura, preparing for the Intermediate Sirsasana cycle.

Demonstration of Parsva Virasana Sirsasana.

Discussing Viparita Karani.

And day one comes to a close. Happy Savasana, yoga mats.

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2. Walk as though your feet are kissing the Earth.
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For many of us, there is a daily shift in our ability to be and remain open: to be stretched out – mind, body, and spirit. Sometimes this shift is huge, sometimes its so small that we can barely feel a tremor. But we’re constantly being called to it. I am both inspired and brought to my knees by those of you out there who can remain so undeniably honest in that shift and welcome it. I truly strive to be more like you, and I’d like to say that I welcome it but…it’s also kind of scary, don’t you think, because some days are easier than others and some challenges are hard. To remain true to the knowledge that life is this amazing teacher is, well, everything. In the face of those challenges, the author of the blog says, “Nothing else changes from the foundation of who we are.”

Powerful.

“Every time I begin to sink, I remind myself that I’m a rockstar.”

Very powerful.

“And rockstars know that life is beautiful.”

What else could I possibly add?

Well, I will add this: When you’re thinking that you have less, you actually have more. More of what you might ask?

Yep, you might ask that. Why don’t you?

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Ok. Where’s my mom when I need her?

My response: “Well, He’s so big that He can be in all of the churches all at once.”

Immediately, God turned into a superhero. “Oh!” my son went on, “I get it! He’s so big that he shoots out little Gods and they go everywhere!”

Interesting, I thought. “So…He’s like sunshine? There’s one great big sun and it shoots its sunlight out everywhere to take care of everything?”

He agreed. I love his little big mind.

This turned into a fascinating conversation of light and dark, and how even though there are times when we don’t have the sun directly, we have it indirectly in the light of the moon and stars and the reflection of the sun. (We didn’t get into the large balls of gas, because this was a pleasant conversation with my preschooler that for once, was not about gas.)

When he asked why we aren’t able to see the stars during the day, I paused. Sometimes, you need the dark to see, I said.

Sometimes…you need the dark to see.

We’re emerging from our shortened days of the dead of winter. That time of year of introspection, tucking in, being quiet. On these very crisp evenings and cold nights, there doesn’t seem to be anything between me and those stars and that moon; it looks as though I could reach up and pull them down from the sky. It makes me feel really big and important but very small and insignificant all at once. I remember a few years ago getting up at 2 a.m. to climb Long’s Peak, and about two hours into the hike, I looked up and sat down hard. I had never seen so many stars. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. There were so many of them I wondered how they stayed up there without crushing me down here. And then, within an hour or so, they faded away and disappeared, the presence of them gobbled up by all of that sunshine.

Even in our darkest night, there’s light waiting to burst through. It’s waiting, reflecting, combusting. My yoga practice is teaching me this patiently. My cranky back is beginning to welcome backbends again and an intense twist to the right happens more freely. And as this unfolds, my heart center is urdhva mukha-ing (you know, not just upward facing but even lifting toward my top palate!). Those little pinholes of starlight are sure to give way to full sunshine soon, I can just feel it.

And I’m so, so very thankful.

How are you shining?

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