This is one of my favorite quotes from the movie, “The Lion King.” As one who frequently mashes up quotes, cliches, and song lyrics, I feel a kindredness with that little warthog. Bless him.
I actually googled this quote. Hundreds of millions of hits later, I sat in awe, my fingers not knowing what link to click. We spend a lot of time, money, and effort trying “put the past in our behinds”, or leaving our pasts behind, as it were. The quote above actually popped into my head during a massage this evening as my back begged miracles of the therapist’s hands. I needed her to help undo what I had done to my body.
One of the most eloquent, honest, soul-baring words in the English language is, in my opinion, the word “authentic:”
To live in authenticity, then, is why I share with you my dilemma of the powerful panties. When we are able to share our fears, our misguided moments, our hilarious capers in trying to fit into yoga clothes after having babies, we realize that our kula, our community, goes both deep and wide. As I listened to other moms around me talk about fearing their return to yoga asana practice because they had to bend over in their ill-fitting clothes and wonder aloud about how long it will take to return to shape, I couldn’t help but lament with and confess to them that I had worn Spanx (see previous post) to teach a class recently. It is just so hard to embrace and love our bodies in this state at times.
Well, this looks cool! I was just sent an email from a friend about Yoga Rocks Mountain Fest ‘09 in Lyons. Check it out – and I hope to see you there!
One of my friends recently posted a quote on my Facebook page by Dr. Nils Bergman: “The mother is the baby’s habitat.” That, dear readers, has encouraged quite the pause in my life.
Imagine this with me: unmasked adoration on my baby’s chubster face when he sees me (especially when he’s hungry); seriously sweet hugs when I pick him up and he buries his precious, Burt’s Bees-scented fuzzy head into my neck; terribly loud toots when he pulls his feet toward his slobbery mouth; quiet little sighs as he nurses during those dark and tender midnight hours. I smell of a mixture of milk, lavender soap, buttermilk lotion, and you-don’t-want-to-know-what-else.
Often the hands will solve a mystery
that the intellect has struggled with in vain.
Carl G. Jung
I have an obsession. It’s not a secret to those who know me or have been around me for any period of time. It’s something about which I read, practice, and luxuriate.
I love touch.
This week has been one of true inspiration. Nothing profound happened, really. I simply received a text message from my neighbor suggesting that we trade perennials to expand our flower gardens. I was hesitant, because I didn’t think I had anything to give her and I wasn’t sure that she’d have anything that I would want to take. I had planned and planned and PLANNED my garden three seasons ago and have just been watching the plants and trees we put in at that time becoming more mature.
In almost every class I’ve taught lately, I’ve asked the question, “What would you like to work on today?” Inevitably, hips and lower back work are requested, which admittedly are a constant source of collected stress. But what about those poses that we…hate. Fear. Shy away from. “Those” poses were always the ones that miraculously made me have an instant urge to go the bathroom. Yep, that was me, sneaking out of class for a few minutes, which ironically was about the same amount of time the rest of the class spent in “that” pose.
Check out this groovy new mat. May not do the trick in a packed studio, but I’m thinking I could totally learn to press up into a handstand on one of these…