Clean it up, Yogis!! Fall reminders 🕉

Our mindful practices have gotten a little thin. Don’t worry. As your teacher, I take full responsibility. One- I’ve been away. Two-I’m pulled in a lot of directions telling a lot of people a lot of things, so of course, we must always go back to the beginning. My favorite thing to do is hug it in and start over. Three-I realize maybe I never told you. So here I am with the 411…

Earth Wind & Fire...

Earth Wind & Fire...

I left on a new moon in August, and would stay till the full. Leo season, of course. It’s always a Leo…. I’d be on that magic island where I don’t sleep and don’t need to. I’d laugh and play and love hard and teach from my guts and just do my soul work. I’d have my heart expanded and broken, all in the course of a growing moon, and I’d come home and be new. I’d be healed. I’d be clear. And this year would be different. I wouldn’t stall out like I did last year. I’d finally be fucking ready. I’d close out this three month astrological shit storm saying bye and hello from my soul home on that shore in Santorini where I met my heart and lost my mind and found self years ago…. and that would be that…. or so I thought…. But as always. There’s more.

risen

Sobbing

The gargle hum in the back of of my throat.  That was born of my belly.

The holding.

The crying out.

     Of the gods

          of my sisters

               of my mothers

The dissolving

     of boundaries

          of binds

               of barriers

The urgent whispers

     to return

          to rise up

               to relinquish

The sound of a flower 

filling my nose

     to my heart

     my lips burn

     with words

     and prayers

     and power

Frozen and free

I am held.

     I am home.

          I hold it down.

              I offer it up.

                    I am risen. 

 

 

 

Getting UP

At first I rose on a whisper - A faint and confident invitation I heard in between sobs and dark days and lifetimes of down...  

Get up...

At first I rose shaking - crawling.  My knees buckled at the weight of my heart.  It hurt too much to move.  

Get up...

At first I rose in silence - It would be many years before the words would come or the tears would stop.  Years before I would hear or see clearly... 

Get up...

At first I rose blindly - Feeling around in the heavy dark.  Begging for the way.  Fighting and trusting each step...  

Get up...

At first I rose for me - The lifetimes of having it all backwards and not understanding my gifts had taken its toll and left me on the floor...  

Get up...

At first I rose sick - Weak from the words that were stuck in my throat and had poisoned my mind and doused my light...  The accident that made me small.  My color faded away into the same fear that took may voice.  I choked on thoughts.   

Speak up...  

At first I rose alone - And I was sure it would kill me.  But it was the very thing that restored my power.  And I'll never curse the darkness of solitude again.  It's where I found myself...  

Get up...

At first I rose uncomfortable - Why did it hurt so much to stand up?  Why couldn't I breathe?  Will I fall back down?  Can you see me?  Can you hear me?  Whose voice is that?  Where am I?  Why is this mine?  Will you help me?

Ok.  I'll get up...

And I rose for her - Slowly.  Completely barren and terrified.  I fought for her.  She chose me.  She tore my womb open with her birth, looking up to me to show her the way, and I almost missed that, too...  

I HAD TO GET UP...

And then I rose for anyone.  I knew I had to help.  Anyone who showed up.  Even if they were too heavy, yet and weighted me down.  We walk before we run.  I was ready for the lessons...  

I was getting up...

And then I still rose - Without...  Without the teachers and the lovers and the healers.  They were conditional.  But they were without, too...  Teaching me not to lose myself on the way up...  

The Kingdom of Heaven is WithIN...  

Get up...

And now I rise for you - I rise for anyone still crawling around in the dark.  I'll share this light.  It is infinite.  I rise for anyone whose voice has not yet made it out of their own heart.  Mine still shakes, but it is certain and devoted and I speak to encourage.  I rise for anyone who still feels held down by this heavy life.  It wasn't meant to be lived on the ground.  I'm strong now and I'm here to serve.  I'll take your hand...  

But you have to get up...

The Herricane Speaks

I am the voice of the mother... Crying in waves.  Whispering in winds.  Winds and waves and words.  They spin.  They scream.  They shhhh.  I am no accident...

I am the mirror of the wild, earthly mother...  Coming home to remind you of where you came from.  Finger firmly pointed.  To echo back to you your roots and reflect your lessons...  Begging you to see yourself...

Wake up, my child...  

I know you are tired and the light hurts your eyes...  But it's time to wake up.

You hear me?

I am the thorn in the mother's side...  Thrust in to warn.  A plastic chokehold.  A grenade of greed.   To take her breath away and blow her down.  Maybe now her children will understand her pain...

I am the tantrum of the single mother...  Existing in a watery swirl of overwhelm and survival.  Tired of carrying the lifeforce all alone.  Finally sacrificing in order to receive.  Letting go of her mighty  grip...  Falling to her trembling knees in pleading prayers...  And fierce faith.  

Deep breath in...

I am the grounded teacher mother ...  The one that means what she says.  The one the studentchild does not fully appreciate until the years pass and the impossible lessons are learned all alone.  Without counsel.  After they have begged for the answer...  After they understood why they could not have recess until their work was done...  Because easy never taught us nothing...

I am the raging mother...  With a knowing eye...  Offering crazed revenge on the cause of the pain my children now know...  Churning everything in my path.  Unpredictable.  Turning it all upside down until I find my senses... or the guilty party...  Because destruction pries the eyes open like no other...

I am the medicine mother.  Feathers tangled in my unbrushed hair... Dragging you into the force of loss that leads to service and sisterhood...  Ripping you up from the depleted soil that kept you stuck...  You do not belong in a garden of ignorance and fear.  Come back to my bosom, child...  Take my breath...  Go ahead...  I was built for this...

I am the prayers  of ALL of the mothers...  A harmonized scream for balance.  For peace.  For remembering.  For the LIGHT.  For shelter.  For nourishment.  For family.  For harm and hate to end.  

Are you awake, yet my child???  Because we must hurry...

I am the warrior mother...  With wild for armor, and muscles made of the moon...  Speaking in winds and waves.  Damming the destructive waters until the rigid stone surrenders into the necessary flow of TRUTH.  Powerful enough to move the heavy earth apart and douse the fires of the warming planet...  

Hurry, sweetie...  We haven't much time...

I am the drunken mother...  Slurring uncomfortable truths that hurt your feelings and make you lower your eyes...  It'll never happen again...  I'm sorry, children...   There, there...  Go watch some TV ...  Mama's got a headache...  

But don't go back to sleep.

I am the eye of the mother... The silent center that sees the past and knows the future, and allows the stillness,  and is able to witness only what is real.  Offering a moment to regroup and rise up to the end of the necessary storm...  Remembering the sun is promised to follow...  The light always a salve to the dark, and the opportunity to be NEW.

Good morning, my child...

I am the dancing mother...  Spinning between the moon and the waves in a sparkling dress of sand and seeds and splinters... Holding you close in my protection and prayers.  The lyrics of love and life move us freely into song and laughter and hope...  And we forget where we are...  Holding you up.  From my womb to my heart.  Deep in my arms.  Holding on for dear life.  Keeping you safe.  Knowing you are in danger...

You hear me?

 

freedom

Fourth of July, 2017.  The day is a little backwards, as is most of my life...  My kid is in Canada today for God's sake, as per every Fourth, but that's another blog.  I am not phased, just so grateful and quietly reflective.  Other than the noise of my work and kid, my life is quiet...  I began the day celebrating and serving, but now I'm working.  I sit in my "office..." the lobby of this little space, watching the sun go down and listening to the ugly, destinationless traffic and the cicadas and Jai Jagdeesh is belting Hallelujah on repeat.  Some days it's Motley Crue, but today it's heaven.  I just swept the sidewalk...  of the storefront that I created...  America...  

I live in a weird, starved, town where the beauty is mostly hidden and hung over and bears some gnarly scars to the flesh and the soul, and it makes my work confusing and urgent.  And freedom means something here...  It always has.  Way before the yoga.  Way before I learned about about Moksha, or became a helper, or a girl boss, or a parent, or understood personal freedoms, or pulled my head out of my ass, or had ever heard clearly the word privilege ...  The American flag flies year round here, and pride is felt and displayed and fought for even in our sleep.  Honor and loss are palpable and understood without words or decorations.  The "noise" is pardoned, as it is the sound of freedom, and as continuous and as familiar as a summer storm.  I've grown up here.  I've been interestingly  involved in many capacities with the military as a kid, human, bartender, America citizen, train wreck, check cashing joint manager, every endless other odd jobber, fourth grade teacher, parent, collaborator, counselor, head jville yogi...  So many yoga friends have moved in and out of my life, like every thee years or so... and the families, and the kids, and, of course, a lover or two...  I'm strangely proud of where I live.  Oddly grateful for every ounce of darkness here.  It makes the light that much more precious.  Even after my small town heart and mind have been blown open by exposure to other worlds and cultures and ideas with the gifts of travel and friends and strangers and big books who have shown me other ways to live and exist and understand.  I'm honored to work and serve this planet and this camouflaged community with so many who understand patriotism and pain and pride equally and in ways that other places in this world just cannot.  

When yoga came along, and I heard the word moksha, that was it for me.  I needed no other rules or further explanations.   When I found yoga, I was knee deep in the land of the free, but I was stuck.  Hardly able to move.  Words were robbed on that short, dark trip from my heart to my throat... and were never, ever heard.  My head never made it up.  Eyes couldn't see.  Teeth stayed clenched until my neck was frozen...  I know about surviving...  But the poses shook me up and broke me down and the breathing and stillness took me to knowings and scriptures, and when I studied the idea that you could be free in your heart and your mind, despite the bullshit stories that poison the body and thoughts, it brought me right back to my knees.  When I saw that the goal or result of yoga was to be free from suffering, to be free, TO BE FREE...  I bowed my head as my heart cracked open.  I was home.    

Freedom means so much to me.  In this town.  In this country.  I was able to wake up today.  I ate what I wanted.  I woke up healthy because of the freedom I have to seek and find wellness and give the middle finger to a broken system that kept me sick.  I spoke to family.  I hugged beautiful friends.  I returned and ignored emails.  I was free to go work exactly where I wanted, a business I built all by myself, from the dirt up, with my own shaking hands, wearing inappropriate clothes and freely speaking the about universal truths that are not so free to all...  I honored that freedom as I laid careful, humble hands on the people that are here in this yoga studio trying to desperately remember their own freedom and forget their suffering.  Words and prayers and wishes came freely from my lips in the name of service and unity, and I understood freedom in my bones.  I understood why it's fought for.  Why people die for it.  How it can scare the hell out of us.  How it's misconstrued.  How it dangerously divides us and joyously brings us together.   And as I listen to the fireworks while the sun goes down, my ears ring and my heart is full of freedom.  And it feels a lot like gratitude.  And it feels a lot like love.  And honor.  And pride.  And Red White & Blue.  And tattooed arms and titty bars.  And stars and stripes and shit.  And the guns and big trucks.  And far away friends.  And mamas and babies.  And their hair in the neatest, tightest bun I ever saw.  And promotions and homecomings.  And (battle) hymns that move us all.  And parades and memorials.  And long gone lovers.   And home.  I am free...

The banged up, bruised and beloved in me... honors, loves, and salutes the brave, bad ass, and beloved in you.  We are the same.  May all beings everywhere be happy and experience this precious gift of freedom.  May the actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and to that freedom for all.  

the blog about the blog

Let me introduce myself...  The blog.  Not me.  You already know me...  So I've been blogging in my mind for a reeeeaaalllyyy long time.  In fact, I'm pretty sure that all of my thoughts are in the form of unwritten blogs...  Post its and journals that litter my mind.  And for whatever reason, I felt like I had to write this before I could write those, so here I am.  There's just not enough time in a yoga class, and I'm way too lazy to write a book... well today, anyway...  And this makes me look so busy and important.  So here.

It's a blog.  On a yoga studio website.  In case you're not familiar...  I am this yoga studio.  A one woman show/circus.  Yep.  The whole thing.  It lives in my belly and is a full on expression of my scared, sweaty heart.  So the blog is one more responsibility that I have not been allowed to omit.  Put off, well of course...  But there is no escaping work.  Ever.  And there's never anyone else to do it.  So pardon my delay...  I was busy opening the doors, learning the lessons, and convincing y'all to stay...  It'll have very little to do with yoga.  I mean it will.  But if you're expecting a breakdown on crow pose or think that yoga belongs in the same sentence as pilates, you'll be very confused here.  I mean, it's all yoga.  But this is basically me rambling.  Spitting complaints and screaming invitations and birthing the memories and LESSONS that have burnt out the hallway from my heart to my throat...  

It might seem like it's about you.  Hell.  It might be.  I mean, in some way it's inspired by the people who criss cross in and out, and usually back in,  my life.  I have to meet the same people in different forms over and over to receive these gifts.  It's you.  It's me.  It may be the old you.  Or the new me.  It may burn.  It might light you up!!  It may feel like you wrote it yourself.  It's universal.  Size human.  Either way, it's FOR you.  For all you LOVERS and haters.  Stalkers.  Seekers.  Finders.  Students.  Teachers.  The LOST.   The broken.  Truth slingers.  Soul soldiers.   Ill.  Injured.  The temporarily out of order.  The overachievers.  The slackers.  Those that see light every fucking where they look, and those that can't seem to find their way outta the dark.  For anyone who has held me up or dragged me down.  I thank you and forgive you whether you receive it or not.  It's for you mothers and sisters and the sons and fathers who may need to heal here, too.  It's for my far away friends and confused lovers with the best of intentions, and those close enough to me that are too caught up to hear.  It's for you THOUSANDS of people who made it HERE, like  INTO the studio for a moment in real life but you had to go...  All of you who come back time and time again.  Anyone who has found an ounce of truth or peace on these bamboo floors...  Oh my God I love you all.  It's for anyone who is afraid of anything.  Or everything.  It's for anyone who needs help understanding.  It's for the addicts and the champions.  We are still ONE.  

What to expect...   Cussing.  Trails of thoughts.  Exclamatory statements of LOVE!!!  Duality.  Confusion.  JOY.  Disappointment.  Resources.  Love letters.  The occasional studio info.  Alliteration.  Why's.  Why NOTs.  Telling you repeatedly to go to yoga.  Blurbs.  Lists.  Unfinished items.  Explanations.  Continuations.  Verses.  Wishes.  Prayers.  Reminders.  Yoga.  Work.  Some stories I probably shouldn't tell.  Some I should have told a long time ago.  Some I will never tell again...  It'll all be unedited.  I mean, who the hell is gonna edit my stuff?  And like I would listen...

LOVE!! 

transitions

transitions

Transitions… 
Sometimes we beg for change…  Sometimes we resist it with all of our might…  But inevitably, it happens.  Despite honest prayer or muscled grip, change happens.  In yoga.  In life.  Even in our studio.  2016 has offered opportunities to be open to change through new classes, and, of course, the farewell to some loved instructors.  That is the nature of this town, and our space, and you have all been beautiful while welcoming what IS.