Peeled Earth and SKY

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Personal Practice


Under the Grand Teton


I am often asked how frequently I practice Yoga. As a teacher and a student, I feel like I am always practicing, whether I attend a class, practice at home, or try and be as awake as possible while walking down the street. What practicing means to me is quite different than what it might mean to you. Though we all have the same basic body parts, we are unique. Gary Kraftsow wrote "...we are nonetheless unique in our structural, physiological, and emotional functioning; and though we all have certain deep constitutional tendencies that remain constant, our own condition changes from day to day."

With this in mind, it is time well spent to examine and explore our personal needs in our Yoga practice and life practice. This is an art, the art of personal practice, which lies in the learning and listening to our present condition.

I spent the past week in the mountains. I did not plan on attending a yoga class. I also did not schedule to teach anywhere at anytime during that week. I did however plan to spend as much time in the mountains as possible. While hiking with Ted I found us in long periods of silence. Listening. Smelling. Observing. Allowing our minds to rest and our senses to become awake. It was a most fulfilling practice.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Envite yourself



This is a love poem. I think it is a love poem first for oneself. A process of questioning and looking within at our awareness of our own self love.

The Invitation by Oriah

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon...
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.