Embracing Winter & Other Survival Tips

I greet Friday morning by finding a comfortable seat on my coral patterned yoga mat. After the January gray and snow blanketed lawns and roads, my eyes are thankful for the bright red hues and orange sun designs on the mat. The yoga class has moved with the heat – to the upstairs gallery. The temperature drastically rises with each climbed chair and the small, dedicated group of yogis is incredibly grateful to leave the chilled downstairs behind for warm floorboards and a skylight that shows a pristine blue sky.

I rub my hands together, chasing out the lingering cold from my fingertips. I rest the heat of my palms down on my cold swollen toes (note to self: rain boots are maybe not the best foot wear to protect toes from single digit temperatures). I relax into the comforting voice of the instructor, a fellow friend and coworker. Breathing consciously, we acknowledge and cultivate the heat dwelling at our center, the 3^rd chakra, our inner throne.  We breathe the heat out into the body; I send warm thoughts down to my thawing out toes.

“Hands to heart, anjali mudra. Set an intention.”

HEAT.  My toes want heat, my confidence needs some kick ass energy, I want to burn through my January dulled thought webs, and breathe radiant sunshine into my being.

Yes, I intend to cultivate comforting heat through movement, breath and even stillness. This was the intention, and I’m carrying it off the mat for some let’s embrace and shine through this winter inspiration.

This winter has been harsh: polar vortexes (introducing a type of cold my southern blood never knew existed), icy roads (which slightly petrifies me) and achingly painful dry skin (that is guzzling Nivea cream and requesting a fur coat for polar vortex III).

Yes, hello winter 2014, you have been a memorable one thus far.

Though you have roared in negative temperatures and icy blasts, I still embrace you. I’m not in the mood to argue with winter, especially this winter. I don’t want to wish away months and days in order to get to the dream of summer. Truthfully, I have relished the quiet that only winter can bring, providing me time for introspection, reading, writing, and enjoying the company of family and friends. It’s a quiet that makes me feel brilliantly alive. Standing on my back porch or walking down a hushed street, the cold invigorates, pushing blood to my cheeks and heart. The silver puffs of breath are visible proofs of my life force. Winter, despite the frozen ground, still holds much life and much to do. I’ve got to rock up 23 while I can! 

As I muse on ways to cultivate some sunshine in my winter wonderland, I also recognize and truly appreciate winter’s stillness, which this time around is teaching me to slow down. And in this quiet, I listen to that wise, inner guide who is happy to share a few lift yourself out of the winter slump tips:

Salute the Sun with a morning yoga practice: In my personal yoga practice these days, I’m loving sun salutations. I wake up excited to downdog and swan dive. Nothing fancy, back to the sweet basics. 

Probably the most familiar of yoga sequences, sun salutation consists of a series of 8 poses that are linked together by breath. This sun flow creates heat and fresh energy in your mind and body. Sun salutation (or in Sanskrit, Surya Namaskar) reminds me of my own divine connection to the earth, to the sun, and my own “inner light,” inviting it to shine.

Yoga Journal has a sweet and simple instructional video. Practice for 4-8 rounds and you’ll be beaming!!  http://www.yogajournal.com/video/268

Laugh!: My youngest sister, Katie has introduced me to vine videos. She’s been sharing her favorites, which always concludes with me laughing uncontrollably on the floor (much to her chagrin, she’s a bit too hip for that much hysteria). I’m smiling just thinking about it, it’s provided for some unexpected sister bonding time. 

So, watch your favorite comedy, vine, youtube video and walk out into winter feeling like this…:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10lzcM-2ASs

Dance: My winter playlist can turn melancholic pretty fast, which is fine when I’m in the mood (Bon Iver goes so well with the snow), but can be downright depressing if it’s the only one on repeat.

The other morning, I unexpectedly stumbled upon an old workout playlist filled with rock out cardio songs and bam! my heart was uplifted and I was able to dance off the winter gray in tune with the falling snowflakes.

I’m sure you’ve got some tunes that help you shake off the winter chill. Here are my top 10 recently revisited loves, too.

1.   Daniella – John Butler Trio

2.   Sweater Weather – The Neighbourhood

3.   Dissolve Me- Alt-J

4.   Everlasting Light – Alex Winston Cover

5.   Flower – Moby

6.   Big Yellow Taxi – Joni Mitchell

7.   Go Outside – The Cults

8.   Step Outside – Jose Gonzalez

9.   XO – Beyonce

10.                Daylight – Matt & Kim

Just some ideas to ponder. Thanks for stopping by and feel free to share some let’s shine through winter tips! Xoxo and lots of cocoa!! 

A Little Love Letter & A Poem

This blog entry is a love letter to the Carnegie Center for Literacy and Learning, a literary haven for writers, a classroom for all of life’s students and a believer in the power of the written word. A classical architectural jewel, it reigns in historic Gratz Park, nestled into the heartbeat of the city. This is my work place and truly, second home.

 Last night, Carnegie hosted its annual Kentucky Writers Hall of Fame. A lively group of Kentucky historians, literary lovers, and family members braved the arctic temperatures and slick roads to honor the seven new inductees. Contemporary writers graced the stage to share excerpts from the respective inductee’s work.

And as they read, I fell in love once more with the Carnegie Center. Resting against the back wall, I listened to the hypnotic voices of writers, poets, and state historians reading the beloved and inspirational works of Kentuckians who have passed on, but whose literary footprints remain in the pages and hearts of the bluegrass. The readers reawakened the dead; they brought their prose and poetry to life.

Listening to the passion in which the readers presented the inductee’s work, I felt as if the authors no longer seemed to be a relic of the past, something distant and irrelevant. I could feel their life energy, their creativity and love for the written word flowing through their prose. 

I felt so very much alive listening to them read. I was incredibly conscious of my surroundings, how I was standing, my breathing; my mind focused on catching the words, the phrases, the stories forming and then, disappearing above the attentive audience’s heads. Those words, the person who had written them, the one reading those words out loud right now, all that collective creative energy reached out and embraced me.

I was home; at home with the poets, the writers, the historians, the storytellers. I just wanted to listen because those words nourished my soul, like a sunflower stretching toward the sun, I soaked up that creative radiance.

It’s during these moments that I realize how hungry I am for creativity, art and kindred spirits sharing and expressing similar passions. I realize how the Carnegie Center has fed that hunger throughout my adolescence and now into my early twenties with classes, literary events, and readings. I remember the chance attendance to these readings when I was growing up and how my younger self adored them. I felt mature sitting with adult writers, who were quirky and kind. These readings provided a taste of an intelligent, imaginative world outside of school drama, a world where the people spoke similar soul language, understood the inner desire to create and honored the imagination.

Last night, storytellers and poets reigned with dignity and grace. The audience and I weaved ourselves into the stories by being fully present, by actively listening.  Our listening brings fresh life into these poems, memoirs and stories. As we applaud, I feel radiantly alive and thankful to be part of this community. I feel grateful for my corner of literary heaven in Gratz Park and for this special evening of poetry and storytelling that reawakened my love for this rather magical place.

Wanted to share one of my favorite poems by James Baker Hall. He is a nationally recognized Kentucky poet, novelist, filmmaker and photographer. His words have been on repeat:

Sitting between Two Mirrors by James Baker Hall 

What I like best

is making lists of what I like

best. The good days

are inventories, near and far. I seldom leave

without a book. Where would I go without a book?

You would say my life is a lottery -

that I am the only one

without a ticket. You would say

your life is better – you say it over and over,

you do. What do I do? I put things in boxes.

I move boxes around. I have many things,

some of them mine. I care for them.

That is what I do. I do simple things.

I move them around clearing places

to move them around. I tell you

I do things over and over,

Now you tell me

something. Talk is what you do. It comforts

me to hear you talk. You would say that you are

mine too, my not-simple thing. Say it

again, today, I want to hear you say

something, today. I wash your clothes.

I buy you fresh bread.

I get the paper.

to see what day it is. I laugh. I act

as though I know what day it is. I laugh

again – it comforts me to hear you

laugh. I talk

on the phone. I water the plants while I talk

on the phone. I make coffee while I talk

on the phone. I am a person

like anyone else. I act

like a person. A person

calls and says whatever it is

a person says. Says

today. A person says today.

I say today

over and over, getting it straight. Getting it

straight is what I do, I want to get it

straight. I say

What did you say?

Tell me something again,

comfort me.

Today? Yes, today.

Is that it?

And when is that?

Rest

 

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.


You do not have to walk on your knees


for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.


You only have to let the soft animal of your body
       

love what it loves.


Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.


Meanwhile the world goes on.


Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain


are moving across the landscapes,


over the prairies and the deep trees,


the mountains and the rivers.


Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,


are heading home again.


Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,


the world offers itself to your imagination,


calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-


over and over announcing your place


in the family of things.


These weekend mornings, I am an advocate for sleeping in. I relish waking up and staying in bed for an hour or so to just daydream and rest in the comfort and warmth of pillows and blankets. My body needs this time to simply rest and my mind needs the time to joyfully explore and imagine, while slipping in and out of consciousness.

This is change from my old morning routine, where I forced myself to bounce out of bed, even on the weekends, and get started on the mental to-do list.

“It’s not even 9 o’clock and I’ve finished so much!!”

Not feeling it. And I may never feel like that again, and that’s all right.

 My inner critic is not a fan of these leisurely mornings. When I finally decide to move, I rise with a twinge of guilt. The “I could/should have been” discourse.

This morning, as the guilt began to swell, Mary Oliver’s words of wisdom emerged and dissolved the brewing guilt storm:

“You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”

 Right now, my body drinks up rest; it sips up those easy mornings like a delicious hot chocolate with lots of whip cream on top.

 Listening to my body is still a new concept for me. Even though yoga (which teaches us to be in our bodies and honor them) has been such an integral part of my life, I’m more accustomed to combating my body’s wishes than treating them with respect. Frequently, I criticize my body’s cues for quiet time. The transitional time from academia to the work world has provoked several internal attacks on my introversion.

 During school, my schedule was flexible. I could create quiet time in the morning at a coffee shop to write, nap in the afternoon, and have quality friend/study time in the evening.

My current position is much more rigid: I need to be at my office and be available to the needs of volunteers, school administrators, and coworkers. I heart-fully enjoy working with people, but devoting all my attention and time to people also drains me. As the workweek ends, my body and heart aches for comfort time, not bar and social time.

I’ve cursed my introversion, wishing I could be the superstar lady who radiantly gives her full energy to work, family and friends at all times and days of the week, but this idea is a creation of the ego and a productivity obsessed society. The times I push myself, my body is quick to respond by getting sick, which forces me to go home and rest.

After years of combating my body, I’ve decided to surrender and let my body love what it loves.

And right now, it savors alone time where I recharge by journaling, practicing yoga, and blasting music and dancing around my room.

My body craves nourishing, good foods. It wants to happily consume yummy fats, like avocado plump grilled sandwiches and olive oil drenched pastas.

Rest is essential. I’m committing my weekends to be a guilt-less time for daydreaming, sleeping and resting.

Letting my body love what it loves nourishes my full Being. It’s part of the 2014 package of nurturing love for myself. So, here’s to avocado sandwiches and daydreamed mornings, may you listen and let your body treat you to the some goodness, too. 

Soul Seeking On The Mat

What am I seeking in my yoga practice?

This question presents itself before I compose a yoga class.  The answer consistently changes – comfort, forgiveness, self-love, playfulness, movement, or stillness.  The answer can be inspired by a song, a word, a pose, a poem, a moment recaptured by the breath. The trick is to be patient and to listen for that answer; otherwise I force out a meditation and a sequence that tries too hard. I’d rather let the heart answer and have the class flow from that soft, wise place of knowing.

Today I am seeking space. I am seeking space to just be. Space from my ego fueled thoughts. Space to move and stretch and be a warrior and be a goddess and maybe a tree or an eagle all in the sweet span of an hour.

 I want to embrace my identity by releasing it into the steady rhythm of breath and transitioning from movements to pauses and pauses to movements. I want to be in my body, present in my toes, while returning back to the realization that I am not defined by my physical imperfections and limitations. I want to be within and without and crave the space to be both.

I desire my breath to create delicious space within my body, and in that space I will dwell, like a queen owning her thrown. Connected to my authentic self, I will then be able to reach out to my loved ones and radiantly be in their presence.

Granting myself space, I can give others the permission to just be, in whatever space they are in, or have chosen to be. I once read that a sign of inner peace is a decreasing interest in judging and mingling in another person’s affairs. I relish that idea of surrendering judgment and accepting others, unconditionally, for who they are and whatever space they are in at that time. After I engage in the internal struggle to judge someone so I can be in the right, or so my vulnerabilities can be soothed, I find it more relieving to just let others be; after all, judging just clogs my lymphatic system.   

Acceptance is an essential part of my yoga practice, especially teaching. I eagerly wish to give students space: full permission granted to be who you are right here and now. Take the vinyasa, or leave it behind to curl up in a child’s pose. Sweat through the thought-webs, or be a witness for a moment or two to your breath and the tone of your mind. I just silently hope that the mat is not a place where you feel pushed to impress and prove. I hope it’s your sanctuary, and in your kingdom of light, breath and life force, you are reminded of your infinite worthiness and divinity.

My own struggles and inner seeking for acceptance are reflected in my desire to plant that wholesome seed of belonging into my students’ practice. Gently I am reminded that I can only give what I have. Love, compassion and acceptance must find a home within before they can be wholeheartedly given to those I share my life with and am blessed enough to teach. For my yoga practice today, I affirm the permission and the space achingly needed to welcome my being into full, vibrant existence. 

Guideposts for 2014

Welcome 2014! I’m feeling a fresh bout of enthusiasm and inspiration for the unfolding year, envisioning travel, yoga workshops and a renewed sense of self. I am more than eager to spend time in quiet and listen to my heart’s desires, then focus on manifesting them into a reality.

I relish this tuning in and planning process, but it can also easily push me into a future that appears to shine and glitter much more than my present. Luckily, last year’s decision to set intentions, instead of goals, gently reminds me to stay rooted in the present while I stretch and muse on future manifestations.

So, with a foot in the present, I move forward into 2014 by looking backward at 2013. I revisit the three intentions I set this time last year and decide to freshen them up for the upcoming year.

I intend to stay connected with my breath.

Treating myself to conscious breaths, even if it were just a few, was the powerful tool that allowed me to reconnect, become aware, let go and simply be as I maneuvered the transition from finishing undergrad to starting my first “real world” job. I’m a natural daydreamer – I bounce around in my imagination more than I do on my toes – and just being with a few cycles of breath would reawaken me to my surroundings and give me the space to witness my feelings and thoughts. Therefore, when I needed to speak and take action, I did feel more centered and capable of handling any potential outcomes. So, yes, I am looking forward to cultivating a richer relationship with my breath.

I intend to develop and listen to my intuition.

 I’ve tweaked this one just a bit. Last year I intended to be my authentic self, and this year I’m continuing by strengthening my connection to that inner voice, that inner seer, if you will. I rely on my intuition to gather information about my surroundings and relationships more than I do on what would be perceived with my five senses and logic. The times I have listened to my intuition have been rewarding experiences: I spoke my truth clearly; I showed up “serendipitously” at the right time and space to meet a new person I needed to meet, or to see a friend who uplifted my spirits; I avoided eating a nut (heads up, I’m super allergic) in what seemed to be a friendly, benign dish, and the list could roll on and on. The moments where my thinking mind overrules my intuition’s whispers are the times I regret sending the email, take a wrong turn down a dead end street, and force myself to be social and just feel bone tired afterward. I’m intending to have fewer of these “I knew better” episodes by breathing consciously (intention #1 at work), to develop a deeper ability to listen and act on my intuition.

I intend to nurture love for myself. 

Last year I set the intention to be compassionate toward myself, and honestly, I wasn’t compassionate, I was cruel. In fact, that’s the intention I forgot about and ironically, desperately needed to remember. In the summer, I weathered a couple of unexpected emotionally combative arguments that left me feeling unaccepted, judged and not seen. These feelings were intensified because the people I argued with were those I loved and expected to be supportive. It’s my understanding that our thoughts impact our bodies. These painful episodes left me feeling extremely sensitive to my surroundings and provoked an inward struggle for self-acceptance. This struggle revealed itself physically when my complexion suffered an allergic reaction to some “all natural” products and I then had a tangible reason to feel unaccepted and judged by a society that prizes flawless skin. My inner critic attacked with claws, and the thought threads about inadequacies and not being worthy repeated themselves with a vengeance. As I write this, though, I have to say, and this is true, that I am grateful for that experience, because it unearthed self-loathing, and it needed to come out. Once I recognized this self-hatred, and voiced it (and voiced it to people who love me), I began to see the inner child who was crying for love and acceptance.

This year I intend to love and accept myself and start by reading Brene Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfections, a Christmas gift from a beloved friend. Brene Brown is a shame researcher who speaks on vulnerability and living wholeheartedly. I first discovered her through a TED Talk and after the universe did some more of her name-dropping, I took the hint and am now am embarking on the path of healing by reading her book.

In the NOW: pure winter sunshine illuminates the room, the warmth cradles my neck and cascades down into my hair. I’m breathing in these sunrays and surrounding 2014’s intentions with this January shine. The New Year is already golden.

P.S.- Recommend listening to Brene Brown’s TED Talk on Listening to Shame. Well worth the listen.

http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_listening_to_shame.html