Aging Gracefully {Trading Intimidation for Inspiration}

Hello dear ones,

Last week I participated in a 5-day intensive yoga workshop which pretty much blew my mind.  I’ve been practicing yoga for almost ten years now, which is short in the span of the universe, but quite long in the span of my life.

My focus has never been on having an impressive physical practice, but after ten years of practice, when I show up to a yoga class, I’m not generally the most advanced student, but I’m generally not the least advanced either.

In the weeks leading up to the workshop, I started to feel intimidated by the caliber of people I knew would be in the room, both the teacher and the other practitioners. These are folks in their 60s, 70s and 80s who are immensely capable in their physical practice, and stable in their minds as well.

So I felt humbled and a little scared to be in this room with people who have been studying and practicing yoga for longer than I’ve been alive. Would I be able to keep up? What if I couldn’t do the poses? Was I actually qualified to be here?

But once I actually got into the space, I was instantly relieved. My fellow students were kind and welcoming, and I had a profound shift in thinking. Stop feeling intimidated by these rockstar elders, I said to myself, and start feeling INSPIRED.

How amazing to see bodies that have grown stronger with age rather than weaker? These are people who have become more and more alive, engaged, grounded, and centered as the years have passed instead of sliding into unsteadiness and instability.

What a thing to behold, and what a thing to aspire towards.

Look around this week for the people who are further along in their path than you, whether it’s a supervisor at work, an artist with a more prestigious career, or that yogi next to you flawlessly handstanding before class even starts. What can you learn from them? How can you grow from being in their presence? Can you see them in the light of inspiration instead of intimidation?

Who are you intimidated by? Could you be inspired by them instead? I’d love to hear from you! Leave a comment to let me know!

Much love,

Bear

Conversating With My Mother

Look at these people conversing! Or are they conversating? 

Talking with my mom recently, she said, “You know what I hate? When people say conversate.They sound so foolish! Don’t they know that’s not a real word?!?! The word is converse!”

And I laughed. I LOVE words, and grammar, and rules, and being right, so things like conversate used to really get my feathers ruffled. But because of a peculiar combination of yoga and linguistics, I’m much more open to seeing conversate as a part of a long lineage of words that came to be words because people said them. I'm more curious these days about WHY people say what they say than which words they choose.

So I said, “Mom! Who said conversate can’t be a word?” And she replied, “Well, Daniel Webster, of course!!” “But Ma, who cares what he said? He’s just some old dead white guy!” “But he’s a linguist! He wrote the dictionary!”

Time to try a different approach.

“Ma, how do you feel when you think that people shouldn’t say conversate?”

“Oh, I don’t know, judgemental I guess. Maybe grouchy.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. How would you feel if you didn’t think that about them?”

“I would have space for so many other things in my brain! I’ve probably wasted a whole lot of my time thinking about what other people are doing wrong, haven’t I? And truly, it’s not any of my business.”

I’m sharing this here because I think it’s a good example of something we all do. Of course, it’s so much easier to see how someone else is hopelessly flawed than to look at our own habits. 

I may not care about grammar, but I spend a fair amount of time thinking about how I wish someone would say/do/be something different than they said/did/are. Things that currently drive me bonkers are other people’s driving, using food words to describe yoga poses (“Sink down into a juicy squat...”) and “the Law of Attraction.”

This week my mom and I encourage you to look closely for your own conversate. What are you wasting your time fixating on? What would you have time for if you weren’t so busy being irritated by other people’s behavior? Without being hard on yourself, consider for a moment how you would feel if you made less space for judgement. It's a pretty good motivator. 

Comment here to let me know what drives you bananas, and what fascinating thoughts you’ll have in place of useless annoyances!

Much love,

Bear

P.S. My mom approved and endorsed this post! 

Anatomy as Self-Care

When I first started practicing yoga, I was a stranger in my own skin. Never an athlete, my body was a mystery to me. Ever a bookworm, my body had been rendered irrelevant by my mind.

Yoga taught me that my body was a place to be myself, to feel at home. Yoga said my body was powerful, strong, something not to be ashamed of but to be celebrated.

Over the past ten years of yoga practice, my body has become an atlas for self-exploration, and I’ve searched for landmarks in the territory of my anatomy. I learned the basics first: femur, hamstrings, biceps, then the more complex layers: psoas, scalenes, latissimus dorsi.

This was practical for keeping up in a yoga class, and for treating my own injuries, but there is a deeper benefit. The more my anatomical knowledge has grown, the more present I have become in my body, minute to minute, on and off the yoga mat.

Anatomy enables us to see, feel, and name our body parts and all their relevant actions, and through that knowledge, we’re less often held hostage by the mind. Yoga anatomy offers a way to care for yourself, just by being more fully in your body.

Registration closes March 25th for Anatomy as Self-Care, and spots are filling quickly! Click below to for more information!  

Much love, 

Bear

Why Practice Yoga?

Last week I talked about what I think the point of yoga is, so this week in class you’ve talked about what you think the point is!

You all had so many honest and insightful thoughts that you offered up, and I’m so grateful for them. Here’s some paraphrasings of what we heard from y’all in class this week.

Yoga makes me more patient.

Yoga brings me peace.

Yoga makes my body feel healthy, and my mind too!

Yoga helps me get out of my own way.

Yoga makes me feel strong.

Yoga metabolizes suffering.

Yoga connects me to myself and to the other people in my life.

If you didn’t speak up in class this week (or you weren’t there) I’d still love to hear from you! Comment on this post to tell me: Why do you practice? What’s the point of yoga for you?

Much love, 

Bear

Everything You've Ever Wanted To Know About Yoga But Were Afraid To Ask...

Hello dear ones,

I’ve been teaching for the past few weeks at a residential treatment facility. My students are women who are in a court-ordered rehab program. The program offers yoga classes twice a week which, like everything else in the program, are mandatory.

Class happens in the cafeteria, with all the tables and chairs folded up and stacked outside the doors. The women roll out their donated aqua mats onto the grimy floor. About half of the women lie on their mats through the whole class, waiting for the hour to end so they can go outside for one of their four scheduled smoke breaks. They all keep their socks on. Doors open and close; heads poke in during class. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, and the constant murmur from the front office is occasionally punctuated by wild laughter or shouting.

This is no ashram.

Last week as we were settling in one of the students asked me,

“What’s the point of yoga?”

I was slightly startled but also a little tickled. She was so straightforward in the way she asked, and also completely neutral. We talked some about what “the point” of yoga might be, with me laying out some basic philosophy and them adding in their own interpretations. It quickly evolved into a conversation. Other questions started bubbling up.

“Is yoga good for back pain?”

“What about the chakras? What are they, exactly?”

“Does yoga help to balance the chakras?”

“I feel so frustrated in the poses. Is that normal?”

Most of the students have no experience with yoga, have never been to a yoga class, don’t know the protocol. They approach with such genuine curiosity. They have beginner’s mind. And it is so refreshing.

Most of you reading this have likely had years of exposure to yoga. There are “rules” about what happens in a yoga class. You know them, and most of the time, you follow them: Sit quietly until class starts. Practice in bare feet. Do the poses that the teacher is calling out. Don’t lay around on the floor until Savasana.

But this can limit us, because we’ll start to behave in the way we think is expected of us instead of the way that might help us grow.

What are the questions that have been rattling around in your brain about yoga that you’ve never asked? Is there some basic piece of information that you missed that you’ve been too embarrassed to admit? What IS the point of yoga?

I’d love to hear them! And I’ll try my best to answer them. Comment with the questions you’ve never asked and I’ll address them in future blog posts. With a beginner’s mind!

Much love,

Bear

Fail Again, Fail Better

OOF. OUCH. OOPS. 

I failed. I had an idea that I thought was a really good idea, but it turns out that it was not a really good idea. Or at least, it wasn’t a good enough idea. It wasn’t an idea that I actually loved, even though I tried to convince myself that I loved it. The story goes like this:

I teach 3 classes a week that are drop-in format. Two of them are always full of people and energy and life. The other one is erratic; attendance fluctuates wildly; energy levels dip and enthusiasm flags.

Meanwhile, my no-drop-ins, must-register-in-advance class is thriving. Students are interested and engaged. I love teaching this class! Why not switch the wonky Wednesday class to the same format, only modified for beginners? We’ll do six weeks of standing balance poses, I decide.

I think this is a great idea! I promote my heart out, make flyers, write blog posts, send emails! Surely everyone will love it!

*crickets chirping*

No one signs up. (That’s actually not true. One person signed up right away. Thanks, Irene!)

I ask in one of my other classes if anyone was thinking of signing up for Wednesday but just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Not a single hand raised. I ask why not.

“It doesn’t fit with my schedule. I don’t get off work until after 6 pm.”  “ My schedule fluctuates, so I can’t commit to six weeks  in a row.” “I just don’t like standing balance poses.”

The last one makes me laugh. I ruefully think to myself, “I don’t really like standing balance poses either.”

One week out from the first class and only two people have signed up. I am panicked. I am dejected. Reluctantly I cancel the class.

WHEW. WOW.

I’ve certainly failed before, in all kinds of weird and spectacular ways (remind me to tell you about the time I got my car inextricably wedged between a telephone pole and another car in my own driveway...)

Maybe you’re thinking to yourself: It’s just a yoga class; this doesn’t seem like that big of a deal?! You’re right, and it’s not, but when I was in the middle of it, it felt huge and magnified. My classes tend to stay pretty full, and y’all (my students) are generally interested in whatever I have to offer, so this felt like a bruise to the ego.

When I look closer though, this is also an opportunity to dig deeper and get clearer about what I really want, and what will truly best enable us all to grow. Why did I try so hard to get people to sign up for a thing I’m not super interested in practicing or teaching? I got a little lazy in my thinking, a little formulaic perhaps, and no one signed up for the class. I stepped outside what is truly true for me, and somehow, you could all see that. A good friend reflected to me,

What a blessing that you don’t have to teach a class on something that you don’t even really like.

Yoga teaches me that it’s okay to flail and fumble and fall and be awkward and not have everything all figured out. It shows me how to get clear about my purpose, and to find clarity about what is most in alignment with who I’m trying to be in this life.  

 It reminds me that perfection is an illusion. 

For now Wednesday night class is on hiatus while I finalize what’s next! Look out for more details next week about the future of Wednesday night classes. 

Much love,

Bear

Being Tired {Or Why I Don't Always Teach To A Theme}

Every week I plan the theme for my yoga classes for the following week, and most of the time, I feel deeply inspired and have a lot to give. I love sharing in conversation with y’all about stuff going on in my own life and hearing about what’s going on in yours. I love to make connections between the yogic teachings and real-life happenings.

But sometimes, the well runs dry. Temporarily, of course, but dry nonetheless. I feel empty, without a ton to offer. I reach in but come up empty.

This used to make me feel really bad. About myself, and my teaching. If I couldn’t come up with something compelling to talk about each week from the front of the room, what was I doing up there? Who do I think I am?

November marked the end of my sixth year of teaching yoga, and while that’s a short time in the big scheme of things, it’s a long time relative to my life. And what I’ve come to six years in, when the well runs dry, is that the practice still holds me. It holds you all, my students, and the space we create when we come together to practice with intention.

I don’t have to say anything powerful or poignant or funny. I don’t have to perform the role of “yoga teacher.” You don’t need fancy poses or name brand pants. This practice is potent enough that simply being reminded to be still, to get quiet, and to breathe is all that we need, in the fertile times and the dry spells, now and always.

I’ll hold the container, you show up with sincerity, and the yoga will do the rest.

Much love,

Bear

What Happens When? {Letting Go Of Right And Wrong}

A few months ago my mom was in town for a visit. It was the end of the day, and we were in the bathroom together getting ready for bed. I washed my hands, took my contacts out, and then got out the floss. Meanwhile my mom was washing her face and brushing her teeth. I finished flossing and put toothpaste on my toothbrush just as my mom put down her toothbrush and opened up the box of floss.

“Wait, Mom, you floss AFTER you brush?”

“Of course. Is that weird?”

The fact that her dental hygiene routine happens to be the opposite of mine is not a big deal, and yet I found it hard not to react. I paused for a long second.

“No, it’s not weird. It’s just....different.”

For most of my life I have tended towards thinking of things as either right or wrong, with no grey area. I like to know right way to do things because then I can do things the right way. Doing it the right way feels good, secure, fixed, in control. I feel accomplished and righteous, even about something as simple and stupid as which order to brush and floss. Opening to the possibility that there might be a different way is a little scary because it’s inherently mutable and moving, the opposite of stable and secure.

There is often not one right way to do things. Most of the time, there are many approaches to a single task. One of the most profound things practicing yoga has taught me is to look at things as different but not necessarily wrong. And to let go of thinking that the way I approach something as being somehow more right than the way someone else does.

My yoga teacher, when asked about the right way to put your hands in a given pose, for instance, will answer, 

“Let go of that question. Ask instead: What happens when? What happens when I place my hands one way? What happens when I put them the other way?”

This other way of questioning opens space. Thinking of things as right or wrong is a hard stop, period, end of sentence. But asking “What happens when.....?” opens us up to possibility, allows for curiosity, leaves room for exploration. In your practice and in life, notice when you default to right/wrong thinking. and when you do, explore instead “What happens when.....?”

The poet Rumi says,

“Out beyond ideas of right-doing and wrong-doing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”

I’ll meet you there!

Much love,

Bea

Flossing My Way Out Of The Spiral Of Shame

I learned more about myself and my habits from becoming a person who flosses than you might think. Notice the difference there. I didn’t say from flossing itself, but from becoming a person who flosses. Some fundamental things changed for me when I made this new habit and was able to keep it. One thing I realized was that I (and most of us!) need containers to make ourselves do good things.

I’m not talking Tupperware and mason jars. When I say containers, what I mean is boundaries. It feels impossibly daunting to me to say to myself, “I will floss my teeth every day forever starting today.” I can already foresee the ways that I will likely fall short, and that makes me want to throw in the towel before I begin. And in fact, that’s what I did. For years I tried to become a flosser by setting a New Year’s Resolution on January 1 that I abandoned before the month was over.

And of course, for me, just like for you and most of the rest of us, when I fail at something, even something as ridiculously simple and stupid as flossing, I feel bad about myself. The slope towards self-loathing is steep and quick and it’s not long before I end up in the “You never accomplish anything you worthless lump of a human” abyss.

You know this feeling too, I’m pretty sure. “I set an intention to meditate daily but I can’t seem to make myself just sit down and breathe.”   “I always say I’m going to go to yoga twice a week but I never do.”  “I want to have healthier sleep habits, or become a vegan, or talk to my grandmother more, or ride my bike on the weekends, or get out in nature once a month. But I don’t.” And then down into the shame spiral you slide.

However, if I give myself essentially the same directive but create a clear boundary for when the expectation will begin and end, I am much more likely to be able to follow through. I said I would floss every day for the forty days of Lent. At the beginning, when I was still in the ohmygodthisisterriblydisgusting phase, I would think to myself “I only have to do this for 36 more days.” Or 33. Or 25. That fact alone made it so much easier for me to stick with it.

I created the LEAPS+BOUNDS classes to make this clear boundary for your practice. These six week courses create a container for you to commit to yourself and your practice within. I know how impossible it can seem to commit to big change forever without end. But you don’t have to commit to being a superstar yogi who practices three hours every day forever and ever amen. You only have to commit to 75 minutes once a week for six weeks. This is infinitely more doable.

But here’s the trick--when we stick with it for forty days, or six weeks or whatever, we are so much more likely to stick with it forever. When we change our habits, we change ourselves. And when we change, we find a more solid footing to stay firmly grounded here in the place of self-acceptance and self-love.

Want the slope to your shame spiral to get a little less steep? The new session of LEAPS+BOUNDS starts the first week of March. Monday night’s class (for more experienced practitioners, we’ll work towards Full Split (Hanumanasana). On Wednesday, we’ll explore Standing Balance Poses (suitable for all levels, including brand new beginners).

Register now for LEAPS+BOUNDS! Click the buttons below for more information and to register. 

Much love, 

Bear

What I Learned From Learning To Floss {On Not Comparing Myself To Other People}

I’m not Catholic, but I love Lent. (I love Mardi Gras more, of course.) I don’t take a strictly traditional sacrificial approach to Lent. Instead I use Lent as a time to give up an unsavory habit and add in a new one. We could call these Mardi Gras Resolutions? It began a few years ago when I gave up Facebook and started flossing. Unfortunately, I didn’t quit Facebook permanently, but I have managed to become a daily flosser in the years since that first Lent.

I had never been a flosser. I don’t remember if my parents made me floss when I was a kid, but I certainly never had a habit of it in my adult life. For several years prior to the flossing Lent, I had made it my New Year’s Resolution to floss daily, and had failed each year. But with my Lenten resolution, I didn’t have to commit to a lifelong love of dental hygiene. I only had to floss for 40 days. This smaller timeframe, along with the encouragement of my very clean-teethed housemates, created the conditions for success.

At first flossing was hard, like, I found it difficult to do. It was awkward to get the floss to go between my teeth, and it cut the circulation off in my fingers. And it was GROSS. Have you seen the kind of stuff that comes out of there? And it smells like swamp death. Plus it hurt and made my gums bleed relentlessly. I hated it. But I persisted.

My roommate would floss with me, aimlessly pacing in the bathroom as she effortlessly glided the minty thread between her gleaming teeth. I couldn’t understand how was it so easy for her. Her gums didn’t bleed. Her fingers didn’t turn purple. She didn’t even have to look in the mirror to figure out where to put the floss.

I was reminded of when I first started practicing yoga, and I would look around a class full of people whose hands lay flat on the floor in Standing Forward Fold, or heels touched the mat in Downward Dog, or who could find effortless balance in Tree Pose. I felt frustrated with how easy it seemed for them to do these poses that were, for me, challenging at best and annihilating at worst.

You can’t compare your beginning to someone else’s middle.

It’s a recipe for frustration, failure, and defeat. LEAPS+BOUNDS classes are designed to help you practice one pose (or set of poses) consistently enough to feel like you’re making progress. That way if you must compare, you can compare yourself now to yourself in the past, your own beginning to your own middle. Rather than feeling inadequate and defeated, you’ll be able to celebrate the diligence of your efforts and all your small victories along the way.

Anything worth pursuing, be that a yoga practice or a flossing habit, requires a consistent effort over time (remember Abhyasa?). And with that consistency comes an ease that seems unimaginable at the outset. I can balance in Tree Pose now, and my heels long ago found the floor in Down Dog. My gums stopped bleeding. I don’t have to look in the mirror to find the space between my teeth. I floss like a champ.

Much love,

Bear

P.S. For Lent this year I’m giving up lying and making a commitment to meditate every single day. How about you?

Register now for LEAPS+BOUNDS!