I still play that game.

It’s been a good teacher, though sometimes with hard lessons and consequences involved, in the art of communication. How what we end up saying can be very different from the original intention. And so often as I discover my heart’s truest intention in regards to my thoughts and words AND actions, I think of “ahimsa,” one of the ethical guidelines in the philosophy and practice of Yoga. In fact, last weekend in our Sunday morning yoga class, I brought in the precept of ahimsa, or non-violence, into our practice. How we can easily make sense of being non-violent towards others, by speaking kindly, acting kindly, being appropriate in non-harming attitudes outward, but what about inward? How do we fare when an overwhelming (and sometimes stupid, really, although I don’t really like that word) sense of competitiveness comes in and we put our bodies, ourselves in the way of harm? When we say derogatory things to ourselves that no ones else hears, like “You’ll never be good enough,” or “I can’t do that as well as that person over there”? Or even, “It doesn’t matter that this is painful in a very compromising way, I have to do this.”

Here it is in practical terms. After I had my third child and knew my lower back was not ready, I practiced very strenuous forward bends and pushed into full backbends anyway. I hurt my back badly. Now, almost a year-and-a-half later and after a lot of chiropractic care and core strengthening, I can finally approach those poses again with no pain and good alignment. I had no business doing them then. I didn’t listen to my body, I listened to my desire.

Then there’s the other side of the coin. The one where competitiveness can be just what we need to open more fully, to accept more openly, and to become more in tune to that which we already are. The “leaping of faith.” The peeling away of layers so that we can bloom right open, and be vulnerable, and come up gulping this new found confidence and freedom that we never knew tasted so sweet and felt so thrilling.

Judith Lasater wrote regarding ahimsa in Yoga Journal:

“There is a famous story about ahimsa told in the Vedas, the vast collection of ancient philosophical teachings from India. A certain sadhu, or wandering monk, would make a yearly circuit of villages in order to teach. One day as he entered a village he saw a large and menacing snake who was terrorizing the people. The sadhu spoke to the snake and taught him about ahimsa. The following year when the sadhu made his visit to the village, he again saw the snake. How changed he was. This once magnificent creature was skinny and bruised. The sadhu asked the snake what had happened. He replied that he had taken the teaching of ahimsa to heart and had stopped terrorizing the village. But because he was no longer menacing, the children now threw rocks and taunted him, and he was afraid to leave his hiding place to hunt. The sadhu shook his head. “I did advise against violence,” he said to the snake, “but I never told you not to hiss.”

Protecting ourselves and others does not violate ahimsa. Practicing ahimsa means we take responsibility for our own harmful behavior and attempt to stop the harm caused by others. Being neutral is not the point. Practicing true ahimsa springs from the clear intention to act with clarity and love.”

Yoga is such an interesting teacher. In all things, there is pose and repose. It’s the constant struggle of balance. Sometimes, it’s our constant struggle against balance. Think of our warrior poses, fierce and mighty, and the stories behind them that tell of battle and righting great wrongs. And now think of the quiet introspection of child’s pose, a full prostration and receipt of quiet and calm.

I encourage you to practice ahimsa. Chew on it, read about it (Yoga Sutras, second chapter), digest it, spit it out even. Practice does not make perfect. Practice, makes practice.

Related posts:

1. Practice. At home.
2. My Longest Yoga Practice. EVER.
3. Balance.

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.
3. A little setback.

my son, saying a resounding "YES!"

About two years ago, our then near three-year-old had this hilarious habit of asking

questions and then immediately asking, “Yes? Or nope?” And we could really get him going with it. If he forgot to ask yes-or-nope, we would ask “yes?” and he would say yes-or-nope over and over and over and over and over and, yeah, you get it. It sent us, as well as innocent bystanders, into fits of giggles nearly every time.

So imagine that little pull of my heart strings when I opened an email from Anusara teacher Hillary Rubin that discussed a more timely idea of yes-or-nope. Hers was a reminder that when we come across a “no,” a “yes” is happening at the same time. There is a shift that we all too often don’t see, because we’re attached to the “nope.”

This hit home with me this past week as I was on a girls-only day on the slopes. Wouldn’t you know it, about the second or third run in I fell hard after hitting some ice and smacked my rear end in the same spot that I had badly bruised about six months before. A spot that I thought had healed was still taking it’s sweet time to get back to 100% and I was so afraid that I had really done some damage with that fall. And to make matters worse, I did it AGAIN on the next run.

The next day, with my tailbone between my legs (well, actually, it had jammed over to the left a bit and knocked my sacrum off kilter), I went to my chiropractor’s office and begged for mercy. In tears. Tears. Not tears of pain, because it truly only hurt on impact, but tears of anticipation of the impending answer to my question: “Should I still snowboard this season?” Her recommendation was, simply, nope. “Do you ski?” was her next question.

Nope.

BUT. I have new skis! They were my Valentine’s Day gift from my husband last year (yes, two days before our second baby was born, but that’s another story). And my “yes” door opened. I’m going to take a lesson. My thighs will be roasted and I will curse the day I got those skis, but I’m going to do it.

Finding the “yes” can be empowering, don’t you think? Can you be more open to the “yes” in your life?

Yes? Or nope?

Related posts:

1. That’s so rad.
2. The art of whispering.
3. Sunshine and stars.