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.
3. A little setback.

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.

I am somone’s habitat.

Daddy just can’t quite cut the muster right, now, and oh have we tried. We both know the day will come when I will be trumped by worms to bait a hook with, skateboarding lessons, dirt, and baseball with Dad and big bro. But right now, I’m … it.

Pretty cool.

So to cherish this, to cherish him, and to save this habitat from insanity, I take a breather from teaching in the evenings. Here’s to you, and to all that you hold dear.

Related posts:

1. Sunshine and stars.
2. No fear.
3. Sticky Sticky Sticky.