ramblings – Page 9

Book overboard

I came back from the yoga retreat in the Czech Republic feeling relaxed and happy. Maybe a little too relaxed as my drive to write entirely disappeared.

The perfect balance of scheduled activities and free time at the retreat left me a lot of thinking space, which included pondering my ambition to write a book. I’ve been mulling over writing about breath and breathing from a variety of perspectives,¹ but haven’t buckled down and gotten much of anything done.

No solid outline, nothing drafted, just a bit of research, some scattered ideas, and a few bookmarked websites. My initial goal was to have an outline complete by the end of 2013, but almost 10 months have passed and I have found all sorts of other activities to occupy my time.

With the space to think about my nebulous dream to write a non-fiction book as enjoyable and informative as Mary Roach’s Stiff, I realized that I don’t have the necessary ambition – at least, not right now. I’m unwilling to muster the motivation and discipline to make it happen, which is making me feel guilty and delinquent. Those feelings, in turn, make me less willing to commit to writing and less likely to produce anything meaningful.

So, I’m tossing the idea of writing a book overboard. I’m abandoning my thesis on breath and breathing… and letting go of guilt.

Perhaps I’ll circle back to the idea of writing a book later on, but for now I’ll content myself with posting travelogues and recipes!

¹ Possible perspectives on breath and breathing:

physical – drawing on my own experiences with blocked breathing and nasal surgery
spiritual – informed by my religious studies and yoga background
athletic – tapping a network of athletic experts and high-level athletes for insight

Permission to be yourself

While at an isolated yoga retreat, I read an article in Quartz about a three-day work week. In this very business-focused publication was a gem that fit in perfectly with all the self-help peace-love-and-happiness philosophy that a yoga retreat implies:

You need no one’s permission to be yourself.

~ Mohit Satyanand
Entrepreneur, mountain-dweller, actor

At least in this instance, the business and spiritual worlds agree: discover who you are and don’t let anyone prevent you from being true to that.

Peace peace peace

Having just returned from an amazing week with a group of students in the Prana Yoga College Teacher Training program, I’m feeling very much at peace right now. But it’s hard not to feel peaceful when every day starts with three hours of breathing exercises and yoga postures – the challenge is keeping that serenity afterwards!

Thankfully, I can still hear Shakti closing each daily class with a chant: ‘Ohm. Shanti shanti shanti. Om; peace peace peace.” Shanti means peace in Sanskrit and it’s no mistake that the concept is repeated at the end of each session.

With every yoga practice, Shakti tries to bring a sense of peace to each student. Her style of classical hatha yoga aims to bring stillness in every posture, meditation throughout the sequence, and a deeply calm mind.

That quiet mind seems to be the goal of every style of meditation. Whether you prefer a silent Zen style or an active Kundalini version, the point of meditation is to get your brain to shut up. To find peace within your own thoughts.

Despite no longer doing a guided yoga practice with Shakti every morning, there are still resources to guide me towards peacefulness. The Chopra Centre’s Global Meditation for Peace hopes to inspire peace through thousands of people meditating at the same time on 8 August 2014. Although 8 August is almost over and I’m too late to join the Chopra Centre’s event… it’s never too late for peaceful meditation!

With the sound of the teacher training group chanting “Peace, peace, peace” echoing in my mind, I wish you all quiet thoughts.

May you find peace within yourself that will help overcome strife. And may that peace spread and help quell conflicts throughout the world.

Shanti shanti shanti.

Magnetic nature

Believe in the subtle magnetism in Nature It was quiet on the Heide (heath) this morning. Just a handful of other walkers and a few joggers in the distance. The flock of sheep that appeared a few days ago had vanished, leaving only droppings and scents to entice my dog, Sofie.

Sofie ran and sniffed; alternating between joyously sprinting and burying her nose in the grass. I ambled along, taking whatever path struck my fancy or following Sofie when she ran ahead.

We had nowhere to be and nothing to do. Free to drift along enjoying the wide open space and revelling in a bit of solitude.

I believe that there is a subtle magnetism in Nature, which, if we unconsciously yield to it, will direct us aright.

~Henry David Thoreau
American author and naturalist

Sofie on the Heide It’s wonderful having the vastness of the Heide so close. Sofie loves her daily off-leash walks here and I love the directionlessness of the space. It’s possibly to feel truly lost, despite the buzz of an unseen highway along the edge of the field and the knowledge that the Heide is enclosed by development.

At the centre of the Heide the surrounding apartment buildings and nearby stadium are no longer visible. There are few markers, which makes navigating fairly random, and often paths peter out, leaving us wading through tall grass.

In the end, though, we always find our way back home.

Maybe it’s Sofie’s homing skills or maybe it’s the subtle magnetism of nature.

Lotus in the mud

Rise like the lotus from the mud — Background photo from Adn! via Compfight cc

The first studio I taught yoga at, Bound Lotus Meditation & Yoga Centre in North Vancouver, is closing on June 30. While I no longer live nearby and haven’t taught there for more than six months, I acutely feel the sadness that comes with its end.

I took some amazing classes at Bound Lotus with some phenomenal teachers. I was honoured to teach incredible students and still keep in touch with a few. I attended many wonderful events and even slept over as part of an overnight gong bath! I spent hours there helping with administrative tasks, working with the founder on planning, or simply sitting at the tea table chatting.

Even my dog, Sofie, loved being at Bound Lotus. She enjoyed participating in meditations, relished the adoration she received from students and teachers, and eagerly came with my husband to pick me up after teaching. I know Sofie picked up on the energy of the space and felt welcome at the studio, just like students did.

Sofie relaxing at Bound Lotus Bound Lotus felt like my yoga home for many months – I lived just a couple blocks away and it sometimes felt like I spent more time at the studio than I did at home. Although geographical distance now means I won’t notice its absence so acutely, I will certainly feel a void knowing that the space is no longer there.

If geographical distance isn’t an issue for you, I hope you’re able to get to Bound Lotus for a yoga class, meditation, or the Summer Solstice event before the end of June. Breathe in the smell of the homemade Bound Lotus tea chai tea, luxuriate in the wealth of colour-coordinated props, soak up the atmosphere… and maybe think of me.

I hope that the community will carry on in some form once the studio doors close and that something beautiful will come out of this sadness.

There is the mud – and there is the lotus that grows out of the mud. We need the mud in order to make the lotus.

~ Thích Nhất Hạnh
Vietnamese monk and teacher

My wish for every that person who ever attended a meditation, practiced yoga, taught a class, drank tea, celebrated an event, or simply passed through the doors at Bound Lotus is able to rise gloriously and beautifully – just like the lotus from the mud. And my wish for Heather, the founder of Bound Lotus and the person who loved it most, is that whatever comes next is made even more magnificent through the grace of all the goodness that was Bound Lotus.

Small complaints; big picture happiness

Forest looking like a watercolour painting — Photo credit: VinothChandar via Compfight cc

Yesterday was one of those days where all the little things were a bit off. I woke up feeling discontented and uneasy. What I thought would be an easy shopping expedition proved fruitless. One of our bikes blew a tire, necessitating a long walk on what may have been the hottest day of the year and resulting in seriously sore feet. Doing laundry was needlessly complicated and involved way too much to-ing and fro-ing.

It was a day filled with small complaints that made it easy to forget that two major things went right: we successfully registered ourselves in Munich and got some very good news from Vancouver.

The Anmeldung process was even easier the second time around (and our first ‘permanent’ address registration was pretty simple), although the system is a little different in Munich than in the rest of Germany. No questions at all from the government clerk, just a few words exchanged in German and an official stamp. The hardest part was the over-heated 45 minute wait and managing that nervous feeling that something would go wrong.

Then later in the day, very good news came from my parents that made me feel like my decision to return to Germany earlier this week was the right one.

With all of my small complaints, it was easy for me to feel as though yesterday was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day… but it wasn’t. It was a great day.

That’s the joy of perspective. Looking close up at all the little things, I was unhappy. Looking at the big picture, I was exactly the opposite.

Full moon marker

Sunset with a full moon at Camp Figtree Lodge, South Africa — South African sunset with full moon
Photo © John Matheson

Most celestial movements pass me by. I generally don’t remark on whether Venus or Mars are visible. I’ve never stayed up late to watch a meteor shower. I couldn’t tell you when there might be a comet passing by.

But I do notice a full moon.

I’m not drawn to full moons for astronomical, tidal, or astrological purposes, I simply like that they help me remember; I often recall where I’ve been for past full moons and who I’ve been with.

Many, many full moons ago I was in South Africa with my brother. He took phenomenal photos (like the one on the right) of the full moon while we were staying at Camp Figtree Lodge. Every full moon since then has helped me remember that incredible trip and made me think about our adventures together.

Fewer full moons ago, my husband and I vacationed in Maui with good friends. On the night of a full moon we walked back to our condo after dinner and my husband snapped a couple photos of the sky. Sadly, none of those pictures turned out, but seeing the moon at it’s fullest still brings back memories of that trip -and reminds me that I’m lucky to have such friends.

And then there was the full moon of the Vancouver Stanley Cup riot. I participated in a meditation to mark the full moon at Sat Nam (the forerunner to Bound Lotus Meditation & Yoga Centre) before going to a friends’ to watch the last part of the hockey game. When I see a full moon now, I remember the foreboding sense that something was coming and the shock of seeing the first plumes of smoke coming from downtown. It makes me think of the bad behaviour that can be spawned from angry drunks and remember that sometimes bad things happen to good cities.

Thankfully, not all full moon meditations have been followed by such dramatic events! I’ve participated in many such meditations at Bound Lotus, including a few with my dog Sofie, and the full moon brings back those grounding experiences and makes me miss the welcoming community at the studio.

I also like thinking that no matter where people I love are (Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, London, Berlin, Beijing, or anywhere else), they may also be looking up at the full moon – seeing the same thing I am.

Rather sappily, it reminds me of that song from that mouse movie. (A quick search reveals that the song is Somewhere Out There from An American Tail.)

Somewhere out there, beneath the pale moonlight,
Someone’s thinking of me and loving me tonight.

When the full moon comes out later tonight, I’ll be in Paris with my husband and our dog. Despite all the glittering lights, I’m sure I’ll find a few moments to look up at the sky – to think of full moons past, to remember the amazing people I’ve shared them with, and to dream of those to come.