Prana Prana Everywhere

Every now and then I have a particularly challenging day. We all do. Every now and again. A day when one minor setback leads to three more, until we just surrender and wish ourselves better luck for the next day. I survived one of these sorts of days yesterday, and by the time it was over I was determined to skip dinner, bathe the baby, and go straight to bed before sunset. I was exhausted. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually. If I could just get a good night's sleep I figured I would feel better. It is worth mentioning that I have basically felt like this for the last year of mamahood. If I could just...get one... long...deep....sleep.....everything would be better. For almost a year now, this magical deep revitalizing sleep has alluded me. I am not entirely sure if I really have not had a good night's sleep since Mirabai was born, or if good sleep just isn't enough to cure my epic exhaustion. Before I could put on my favorite purple paisley pajamas and crash out last night, I did have a few chores to attend to. The garden needed watering, and the dishes, still leftover from the night before, demanded to be done.

Mirabai loves watching me do the dishes. She is fascinated by the water. She sits next to the sink while I work and is perfectly content as I scrub the pots and wash the coffee mugs. Doing the dishes has become one of the most peaceful moments in our routine.  She is happy. I am not rushing to finish my task while she is distracted or taking a nap. I enjoy the sense of accomplishment when the dishes are done and I love the the smell of the Mrs. Meyers honeysuckle dish soap. Sure, it might seem silly to spend so much on dish soap but the aroma transforms my mood instantly, and that is worth quite a bit more than the extra two bucks. I feel grounded after the dishes are done. Sometimes, I even save the dishes to do first thing in the morning because it is a strong, centered start to my day. Well, that and sometimes I can't stay standing long enough at the end of the day to finish them.

                                     Mirabai and my Mom sitting by the newly planted garden, after the plants survived three crazy hail storms.

Mirabai also loves the garden.  When I was growing up, I remember my Mom doing a great deal of gardening. At the end of the summer we had so many tomatoes that all of our friends and family would come to fill up their bags with as many as they could pick. Oh, and green beans....and, pumpkins! When I was pregnant I decided I needed to start a small garden and my Mom helped me plant tomatoes and hot peppers. I was surprised that with just four tomato plants I was able to fill my freezer with bags of yellow, orange, and red tomatoes. They came in very handy while making vibrant soups in the dead of winter. This year I decided to expand the garden. We added several varieties of winter and summer squash and two types of melon. Also, two varieties of pumpkin, in hopes that Mira might grow her own Halloween pumpkin. The peppermint patch has expanded to include basil and thyme. This is all thanks to my Mother, who has an honest to goodness green thumb, and put the plants in the earth while she was babysitting and I was at work. This just so happened to take place the same week as a round of severe hail storms and tornado warnings, and my Mom covered each plant with an assortment of yogurt containers, old pots, and glass jars she found around my house. All of the plants survived and Mirabai took part in the whole process. We usually water the garden and the flowers in the morning and she likes to wave good morning to the plants. Yesterday, we missed our morning ritual and so there we were, after my long and very bad day, watering our friends in the vegetable patch. As I stood there feeling the earth beneath my feet and the warmth of the sun, with Mirabai smiling and waving at the squash, my bad day suddenly disappeared. I no longer felt like I needed to go to bed immediately. I felt energized and joyful.


Prana is a word that we hear often in our yoga classes. We all know it isn't just a brand of yoga pants, but is in fact one of those very important yoga concepts that is difficult to translate. Generally, we think of prana as being breath, or air, and this is a pretty good way of conceptualizing something as subtle as vital energy. Prana truly encompasses more than just the air, or the vital energy within an individual human body, but it is in fact the sum total of all of the energy manifest in the universe. Prana moves through breath, and in our yoga practice we can practice pranayama, controlling the movement of the breath, to bring prana into the body and balance the vital energy. Tasmin sati svasaprasvasayor-gativicchedah pranayamah—“Regulation of breath or the control of Prana is the stoppage of inhalation and exhalation, which follows after securing that steadiness of posture or seat.” This is the definition of Pranayama in the Yoga-sutras of Patanjali.

We also gain prana from the sun, the earth, water, the food we eat, and really everything we exist in relationship to in this world. When we are off the yoga mat, there are a variety of things we can do to increase the vital energy in the body. We can eat nutrient dense foods, hydrate, and even listening to joyful music can help us perk up when we are feeling depleted. Eating with our hands in the traditional Indian style is even a way of transferring more prana from the food we enjoy. Summer is a natural time to absorb more life force through our connection to the earth, spending more time in the sunshine, and enjoying the freshest produce straight from the farmers we visit at the market.

I realized yesterday, watering the plants with my baby in my arms, that what I needed to rest and recover from my less than good day was not a long hibernation, but prana. My day had not turned into one of those rotten, no good, very bad days, because anything particular happened that was all that terrible, but rather because my energy was shifted out of whack when I was unable to replenish my soul between set-backs.  Sometimes we hit a point when we are so saturated we feel we can't do anything to take proper care of ourselves, so we drain even more prana from our bodies and hearts. Those are the moments when we turn on the TV to binge watch our favorite show, order a Pizza, and take a long nap. I've been there. It becomes a self perpetuating cycle.  Alternatively, if we can recognize our low energy moments as being what they are and take small steps to connect with vital energy, we can reverse our energetic trajectory.

Some days, if we are lucky, that might mean indulging in a long, shared yoga practice at our favorite sacred space.  Other days, that might be breathing deeply while we are doing the dishes, or taking off our shoes and sinking our toes into the grass while we water the zucchini plants. My wonderful prenatal/"baby and me" yoga teacher Kara Chitwood encourages us mamas to practice asanas whenever we can in our busy lives, maybe by just taking a tree pose while we are in front of the stove preparing dinner. I have been reading The Conscious Cleanse by Jo Schaalman and Julie Peláez. One of the things I most like about their approach to cleansing is that the first day of the cleanse preparation is about adding fruits and vegetables without restricting anything else. I think this is very wise because if we feed our bodies good energy we are less likely to feel so depleted that we need for less than good stuff like caffeine and refined sugar. Interestingly, an article from The Atlantic appeared on my newsfeed yesterday that claimed that despite the fact that "we" eat more fruits and vegetables than we did a few years back, "we" are gaining more weight. The article explains that even though we eat more kale, we still eat Cheetos, so the kale isn't necessarily doing us much good. The question becomes, why do we still eat Cheetos? I would suggest that it is, at least partially, to do with how incredibly depleted we are. We are culture of busy. Many of us have pushed ourselves so far beyond our healthy prana tipping point that it would take an insane amount of kale to help us regain equilibrium. We need quick fixes to get by, and these quick fixes become habitual. If we begin to think of each small choice we make over the course of the day as prana affirming, or prana depleting, we can start to build more vital energy, until we have some reserves built up to triumph on those not so good days when we encounter them.  If we focus on choosing prana affirming activities, nourishment, and company, then we will naturally begin to avoid the forces which drain vital energy from our lives.

This month, it is my intention to prioritize adding things to my life that are prana affirming, instead of imposing any restrictions.  Hopefully, next time I feel challenged by "one of those days" I will remember what I need is prana, and I will find ways to rescue my day -- with a walk in the park, a few rounds of anuloma-vilmoa, an extra bottle of water, a juicy peach, or breathing in my baby girl's smile -- before I am pushed over my threshold and no longer have the energy to seek good energy.  There is prana all around us, and the more prana we affirm -- the more prana we breathe-be-absorb -- the more prana we can share with everyone around us, when one of us finds herself in the middle of one of those days. One of those days we all have every now and again.

My favorite pranayama exercise is anuloma-vilmoa, or alternate nostril breathing. I find this practice to be instantly energizing, and a quick stress fix before a big meeting, or after a heated discussion. It is also the best way I have found to prepare for meditation, and leaves me feeling balanced on even the most chaotic of days.

1) Find a comfortable seated posture. It is important to find a position we can hold easefully, and one that allows us to maintain length in the spine. An easy cross legged seat with a cushion, or rolled blanket, just beneath the hips, is a good place to start. Half lotus, or full lotus might be good variations if you are feeling open. I find half lotus allows me to keep a straighter spine without pushing my body too far to a point of distraction. It is also okay to add support beneath your knees, sit with straight legs, or even sit in a chair if that feels better. If you do choose to sit in a chair, or use a wall for support, try to avoid melting into the wall or back of the chair, and maintain the integrity of the straight spine.

2) Allow the eyes to close. Rest the left hand in chin mudra on top of the left knee, and the right hand in Vishnu mudra on top of the right knee. Relax the shoulders away from the ears. Notice the natural rhythm  of your breath, breathing in and out of the nose.

3) Use the  right thumb to close the right nasal passage and breathe in deeply through the left nasal passage only.

4) Close both nasal passages with the right thumb and right  ring and pinky fingers and gently retain the breath.

5) Close the left nasal passage with the right thumb and pinky fingers and exhale through the right nasal passage only.

6) Continue this cycle, alternating between the inhaling right and left. Practice inhaling for a count of four, retaining for a count of 8, and exhaling for a count of 6. You might start to increase the length of each part of the exercise as you become more comfortable with the exercise. Try to do 8 rounds of inhaling both right and left. You may gradually increase the number of rounds until you are practicing 20 rounds inhaling right and left.

Note: Pranayama might feel like simple breathing exercises, but pranayama can feel physically challenging and it is very purifying. Be gentle with yourself and never push yourself too hard when practicing pranayama exercises. Pranayama can bring emotions to the service, and can also be difficult to practice when we are living in very toxic (chemical, or energetic) environments. Practicing 20 rounds of alternate nostril breathing per day should be perfectly safe and quite energizing for most of us.

"Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you? Hmm? Hmm. And well you should not. For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter. You must feel the Force around you; here, between you, me, the tree, the rock, everywhere, yes."
  Yoda - Star Wars, Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back 

Divine Mother's Love

Sunday morning I woke up extra early. The weekend chores were finished and I didn’t have to be anywhere at any specific time. It was just starting to snow and the dogs were snuggled under the covers at my feet, like hot potatoes keeping my toes warm. Baby girl was sound asleep, her cheek resting on my breast, and a sweet smile raising the corners of her lips. I wondered what she was dreaming. I never planned to be one of those co-sleeping, bed sharing Mamas. I thought about our sleeping arrangement quite a bit before Mirabai was born, and despite the fact that I was making every other crunchy Mama parenting decision I possibly could – home birthing, organic cotton cloth diapering, acupuncture for my border line blood pressure which was on the rise in my third trimester – co-sleeping just didn’t seem like it would be the right choice for me. 

Those early days with baby Mira were epic. My soul was exhausted from our eight days in the NICU and my body was weak from too many sleepless nights on the big chair in her hospital room. Everything was hazy. There were no clear answers as to what had gone wrong, or what her future prognosis was. Every two hours I tried to bring her to breast, and for three weeks every time I brought her to breast she cried and refused. When she did try to latch her nasal cannula was pushed further into her nose and it broke my heart to see her in such discomfort. There were red spots on her tiny cherub cheeks from the adhesive used to hold the oxygen tubes in place. My Mom did everything she could to help Mirabai and I learn to nurse. She fed Mirabai donated breast milk from a syringe to avoid nipple confusion from bottle feeding. She held the phalanges from the breast pump to my chest when I was too tired to keep my eyes open, let alone express milk. She even held a tube of milk over my nipple and pushed the milk in Mira’s mouth to encourage her to latch. It was exhausting for all of us. So when Mirabai couldn’t seem to fall asleep in the bassinet in my room, and yet would sleep peacefully in my arms, we naturally began to sleep in the same bed. I took my mattress off of the frame to keep it close to the ground and stripped the bed of any bulky blankets and excessive pillows. At first, I was afraid I was doing the wrong thing, but I let go of the fear. I closed my eyes. I intuitively knew that we were just right cuddled up together all night. When she was sound asleep I would get up to pump milk. As my rock-star lactation consultant told me, if you have milk you have options. So, I kept pumping and pumping. 

Breastfeeding a newborn is hard, but bottle feeding when you are half asleep, is harder. When I just couldn't do it, my Mom would wake-up, warm the organic formula we reluctantly turned to when my milk production was not enough and the mother's milk bank was too expensive, and feed Mirabai while rocking her in the same chair she had rocked me in 38 years ago. My Mom did not breastfeed me. When I was born nine weeks early her doctor gave her pills to dry up her milk and she was not even allowed to touch me until four weeks after I was born. She says she was never worried about me. Even though there were very good reasons to worry about baby me, weighing three pounds and six ounces, incubating in an isolate at a Catholic hospital in 1975. She always knew I was absolutely healthy and strong. A belief she reaffirmed my entire life, and reminded me of when I was pregnant with Mira. 

My Mom and Me in 1975

I went into labor just before midnight on a Sunday night. My Mom had arrived from New Mexico a few hours before and was tired from the seven hour drive, her second time making the drive that week due to a false alarm a few days before. She knew before I did that the baby was really on her way. She made me a smoothie and steel cut oats. She eased my pain from the contractions with herbal compresses she kept warm in the rice cooker. By the time I accepted I was actually in labor and called the midwife, my contractions were just a minute and half apart.  I was sitting on my red couch when my water broke. I didn't understand at the time why we were going to the hospital. My midwife said something about meconium in the fluid. She said the baby could be in distress.My Mom drove us to the hospital in morning rush hour traffic. I was 8cms dilated and could not bear to sit down, so I stood up in the back of the car all the way to Denver Health. There was only one moment when I thought I couldn't do it, but my Mom reminded me that I was strong and let me squeeze her hands until the midwives told me I could push. Mirabai came out quickly, with a perfectly round head and big buddah eyes. My Mom cut her chord, and Mirabai's Dad found us just in time to watch the midwives bring her to my chest. She immediately latched on to my breast and held my thumb. It wasn't until after we were all texting the good news of our healthy baby girl's arrival that the nurses said her blood sugar was too low and took her away. Her Dad went with her to the NICU and my Mom walked me to my hospital room. 

I wasn't worried. I knew that Mirabai had great strength. I felt proud of myself for having a natural birth and relieved it was all over. My Mom brought me carrot cake. The doctors came in and told me Mirabai needed a blood transfusion. I still wasn't worried. I signed the release. The nurses brought in the big yellow breast pump and told me to start pumping immediately. That's when I started to feel a little strange. The nurses told me later that I lost over half the blood in my body in less than a minute. My Mom was standing right there and Mirabai's Dad was sitting in a chair in the corner. I watched my Mom's terrified face as they rushed me away to an operating room and she was left holding my robe. 

Someday, I will tell the whole story of those eight long days we spent at the hospital after Mirabai was born, waiting for her kidneys and her heart and her lungs to be healed enough to bring her home. I will tell you about the dream I had a week before she was born that I was holding her in a plastic grocery sack and when I opened the sack and looked inside she was completely blue. Maybe I will say more about how I felt as I sat there day after day doing everything I could for my daughter, while my Mom stayed by my side and did everything she could for me as I recovered from my own blood transfusion. Perhaps, I will fill in all the scary, fuzzy details of that moment in time when I became a mother. But, not now. Now, I am bursting with joy having just celebrated my first Mother's Day with my beautiful ten- month-old baby girl and her father, a man who teaches me more about myself every day. 

I woke up extra early on Sunday morning. Feeling a bit like a little kid on Christmas, and I watched Mirabai sleep on my breast, taking a sip of milk from time to time without ever opening her eyes. I listened to her breathe and my own breath aligned with the rhythm of hers. I felt complete. In the Bhakti Yoga tradition there are five different types of devotional feelings, or bhavas, that serve as a means for the devotee to forget selfishness.  One of the highest bhavas that can be experienced in the earthly realm is vatsalyabhava, the attitude of a mother towards her child. In Bhakti Yoga we are working with these bhavas towards feeling complete oneness with the beloved.

I am not sure what I thought being a Mother would feel like, but I didn't realize it would feel like absolute bliss, because honestly I don't think I ever knew what absolute bliss felt like until I became a Mom. I didn't realize that being a mother would change the way I experienced being a daughter. I didn't realize that feeling the expansiveness of my love for my child would make me finally understand the depth of my mother's love for me. Or, that watching my Mother care for my daughter would allow me to cherish my Mom even more than I did before. As I watch Mirabai sleep, I feel like I have been reunited with a long lost soul mate. My love for her completes the love between  my Mother and me, and within this love between us three I feel the divine love within us all. 

The Mother of all Asanas - Sarvangasana, or Shoulder stand

Iyengar refers to Shoulder stand as the “mother of all asanas.” Regular practice of this pose promotes harmony and tones every major muscle group in the body. It is a strong inversion, giving the cardiovascular system a rest, and is beneficial to the thyroid, helping to maintain healthy sleep-wake cycles and balanced metabolism. 

God could not be everywhere, and therefore he made mothers.

Rudyard Kipling

Me and Mirabai on our first Mother's Day - 5/11/14

My Yoga is Better than your Yoga

I have a confession to make. I ate at Subway today. Despite what the lovely Food Babe says about Jared's favorite sandwich shop, I still believe that when faced with a choice between McDonald's, or Subway, with just a few minutes to rescue my blood sugar between meetings, "eating fresh" is actually just a little bit healthier. Even if the veggies aren't organic.  The line moved slowly, so I had plenty of time to study the menu and think about what Food Babe would order if she was given a life or death ultimatum and had to eat a meal at Subway, or be forced to walk the plank. Genetically modified soy veggie patty, or processed cheese slab made with hormone filled dairy? I was distracted by the gentleman ahead of me ordering Sriracha sauce on his meatball sub. He looked sad and his suit was tragically ill fitted. I wondered if he worked on a commission basis at the mobile phone shop next door, or perhaps he had just come from a job interview?  Did he suffer a sleepless night feeling anxious about the interview, and wake up extra early to put on the only suit he had ever owned imagining he looked super professional, when in reality he looked like a guy who works at a mobile phone cart at the mall and pours hot sauce on his meatballs? It was about then, after I ruled out Sriracha sauce as a Food Babe approved condiment, that I noticed how shiny my iridescent clogs were under the fluorescent lights. 

I really intended to wear black heels with my sweater dress this morning, but when it came down to it I just refused to sacrifice my comfort and went with my teacher clogs.  I was sure the program officer I met with earlier to pitch the organization I manage to her foundation, did a double take when she noticed my opal Danskos.  On my way to my car after the meeting I considered what she was thinking when she studied my shoes. Was she applauding my practicality, and wishing she had a pair just like mine? Or, was she thinking I looked less than professional and was in need of executive coaching? I suddenly felt a bond with the sad looking Sriracha sauce man at Subway and his failed fictional job interview. Maybe we were both a bit out of our league, drowning our sorrows in bread made from yoga mats. 

I have been feeling a little judgmental lately. Of myself, and of others, but as judgement usually goes, mostly of myself. Sure... I might distract my mind trips from obsessing over what feels wrong in my universe by proclaiming what is wrong with everyone else, but judgement is judgement. It is a very human moment when we suffer from the illusion that we are separate  Separate from our neighbors. Separate from our earth.Separate from our souls. In fact, often it is our most effective strategy for creating this very illusion of separateness that advaita vedanta urges us to reconsider. Observing differences between "us" and "them" is what makes you & me "us", and those guys "them". Bonus points if we can layer a value judgement ontop of these observations. Being better is like being separate supercharged. Super separate.

I have been thinking this week about ways to connect with more yoga students. As I have meditated on what yoga is to me, and what styles I most like to practice and teach, I have caught myself cycling through all kinds of judgments about what yoga is and is not. Now, before I say some things here that might make me seem either totally unenlightened, or perhaps yogier than though,  I would like to state for the record that I sincerely believe that yoga is yoga. It really doesn't matter if you define it like Patanjali defines it in the yoga sutras: Yogas-citta-vrtti-nirodhah, or yoga is the cessation of mental modifications. Or, if you go with the simplier Yoga is union explanation as to why people like to stand on their heads, sometimes in rooms heated to be over 100 degrees. I have heard dozens of poetic and insightful answers to the question, "What is yoga?" Maybe the only thing that we can say decisively is that yoga is not Yoda. But, actually that is even debatable. Yoda is a true yogi. Just like Kung Foo Panda after him. But, what I am getting at when I say that yoga is yoga, is that no matter how you define it, this twist yourself up like a pretzel stuff is the same no matter what style of yoga you practice. It doesn't matter if you adore your Ashtanga inspired practice that leaves you feeling like you got a great work-out, or if you are really into a sweet restorative practice that prepares you for a good sleep. The same basic asanas are weaved throughout all different styles of sequencing, and more importantly they are practiced with shared intentions. Calming the mind, keeping the body supple (ready for meditation), and cultivating joy. So, yoga is yoga. And, so is Yoda. 

Now, look at the schedule at any of the many beautiful yoga studios in your community and this assumption might be challenged. There are hundreds of different class names, a wide variety of yoga schools and certifications, and even some styles of yoga that share a specific title can feel wildly different depending on who the teacher is and how you come to your mat on a given day. I think this is actually one of the things I most like about yoga. It can express in so many ways, and this gives all of us equal access to the transformative power of a yoga practice. It also allows us to stay dedicated to our practice even when our bodies/hearts/lives change. Change is the rule of nature. Staying anchored in the practice no matter what is happening around us, or within us, is when those mad Yoda skills are really put to the test. 

What I was confronted with this week as I thought about my own style of teaching, is that there sometimes seems to be a line in the sand between yoga that feels more athletic, and yoga that identifies as being more spiritual. I get that. I really do. I have practiced (quite a bit) at Corepower Yoga where the teachers encourage students to push harder, and also (equally quite a bit) at ashrams in India where the Swamis emphasize proper relaxation between each posture. I can honestly say that as different as the cues and the environments sometimes are, these practices share more in common with each other than they differ from each other. What I think is exciting about this moment in time, is that so many people are learning about yoga. People that wouldn't have such opportunities if there weren't so many "yogas" to choose from. 

However... and there is no easy way to say this...sometimes even us yogis can get judgemental about our yoga. I have done it. I have caught myself thinking that the teacher with the loudest rock and roll play list at the yoga with weights class I go to when I am feeling I need to fit into my favorite black dress has no idea what yoga really is. I have also found myself feeling bored and wanting the teacher to shut the f___ up during very meditative classes with Sanskrit scholars. After doing time on both sides of the imaginary line, and indulging in such very human my yoga is better than your yoga thoughts, I would like to share with you the following, possibly surprising truths. 

"Power Yoga" is not harder than "Hatha Yoga"

Maybe you knew this already. Maybe you are ready to get your index cards out and debate me until I change my mind. I am not denying that there are some poses that are more difficult for beginners, or that there isn't a way to do yoga that gets the heart pumping faster than other ways to do yoga. What I am going to tell you is that I have experienced equal benefits in my body from both approaches, and (gasp) no matter how hot the room, or how many chatturangas you fit in between asanas, they both work the body at about the same level. I have faithfully worn my BodyFit armband, which measures level of exertion and how many calories are being burned during activity, and there is very little difference between an hour of power yoga and an hour of holding slow steady postures. An hour of yoga generally burns between 200 and 300 calories. More precisely, for me, I have found that the range between my slowest paced practice and most athletic heated practice is between 220 and 270 calories. It took me a long time before I believed this was true. I didn't want it to be true. I wrote to BodyMedia asking if I was doing something wrong, or if the heat interferes with the reading. No, the readings were accurate and repeated time and time again. Anecdotally, as someone who has struggled with my weight since I was a child, I can report to you that I have lost more weight when I am consistent with my meditation practice than when I work up a sweat. Evidence that the greatest benefits of yoga have more to do with the subtle energetic effects than the the impact on the physical body. I think the truth is that when we are doing yoga, we approach the practice seeking balance. Balance between building endurance and practicing with a calm mind. So, no matter what the practice, when we do yoga we naturally find exactly where we need to be. Where we need to be is the same, no matter where we are. 

Yoga doesn't have to be spiritual to be SPIRITful

I have probably witnessed more judgement of the athletic focused yogis by the ashram jet set than the other way around. The statement THAT isn't REAL yoga is an easy thing to say. I love om om oming just as much as much as the next bhakti yogini (I mean, I really really love getting my kirtan on! I do!), and for me incorporating prayer and spiritual teachings into a yoga class is what makes yoga sacred. But, just because a yoga teacher is not talking about Hindu gods and burning incense doesn't mean spirit is not present in the room. I have enjoyed some of my most wonderful inner journeys in yoga classes where there is no talk of anything outside of how hard the abdominal muscles are being worked in preparation for swimsuit season. I think this is because when nobody is leading the soul searching for me, my spiritual practice becomes my responsibility. It becomes deeply personal and internal. It took me years to get to a place where I was receptive to the Hare Krishnas. When I first started to learn yoga I took classes in gyms and recreation centers. If I had landed at the uber spiritual yoga studios when I first began, I might not have ever discovered how much I enjoyed yoga. Spirituality is an exploration of self and our relationship with the universe. There are as many ways to express that relationship as there are individuals living in this time and space. Yoga, no matter where it is practiced, allows us to find our best self. The story of how Ganesha got his elephant head in the process, should not be required reading. 

I am not sharing these insights to convince you that you should practice yoga one way or the other, or that you should try to practice yoga differently than you have been. You should practice the kind of yoga you most enjoy, in an environment where you are comfortable, and with a teacher who inspires you. The most important thing about yoga is that you actually do yoga. So, please seek out teachers and styles that you love love love. I am suggesting that if you have convinced yourself that a certain type of yoga is not for you because it lacks something you have decided is most important, it might be worth trying it again and checking your assumptions at the door. Mix-it up a little. You might be surprised at what you find.

 And if you ever come across a yoga class taught by Yoda, by all means go! No matter what the class is called. 

Two poses I am thinking about this week as I think about what all yoga styles share:

Surya Namaskar, Sun Salutation -- I think sun salutations are amazing because an entire yoga practice is contained within the basic movements, which can be practiced more quickly, to get some cardiovascular exercise, or practiced more slowly to work on muscle tone. The sun salutation also keeps the spine in excellent condition by alternating between forward and backward bending. The movements of the traditional sun salutation are really a springboard for vinyasa sequences, and also an important part of warming up the body in traditional hatha yoga practices. 

Pachimottanasana, Seated Forward Bend -- I first practiced this asana in sixth grade gym class. It is an asana that seems deceptively simple, but when held for longer amounts of time can feel like the most challenging asana there is. I have found the secret to this asana is truly surrendering to the posture, much like surrendering the ego is the secret to a truly advanced yoga practice. This asana holds a place of honor in virtually all "brands" of yoga sequencing and styles of practice. 

Oogway: My friend, the panda will never fulfill his destiny, nor you yours, until you let go of the illusion of control.Shifu: Illusion?Oogway: Yes. Look at this tree, Shifu. I cannot make it blossom when it suits me, nor make it bear fruit before it's time.Shifu: But there are things we can control. [Kicks the tree causing several peaches to fall] I can control when the fruit will fall. [One hits him on the head. Oogway chuckles] And I can control... [Tosses the peach in the air and chops it in half] ...where to plant the seed. [Punches a hole in the ground and catches the seed] That is no illusion, Master. [Throws the seed into the hole]Oogway: Ah, yes. But no matter what you do, that seed will grow to be a peach tree. You may wish for an apple or an orange, but you will get a peach.                                                           - Kung Foo Panda

Banana Split Yoga Mat Sundae

There are pieces of banana smooshed all over my yoga mat. My pink yoga mat with the hibiscus print and my spiritual name Srividya scrawled across the top in black magic marker.  My pink yoga mat that accompanied me to the ashram for the first time and then across the oceans. The mat that endured my stinky sweaty Bikram yoga phase, and my prenatal cat-cows practiced with the most sacred of intentions. It is worn too thin and even has some holes peaking through. This mat has been with me through a divorce, six moves, several boyfriends, five jobs, and three karma yoga stays in paradise. Today there are pieces of banana smooshed all over it with bits of cinnamon toast rice cakes sticking to the moosh.

The baby woke up about 20 minutes into my practice this afternoon, so I moved her into the marine themed activity saucer right next to my pink yoga mat. Mirabai usually nurses as soon as she wakes up. Today I desperately wanted to practice longer, so I gave her a banana and a rice cake in hopes of distracting her. She proceeded to smash up the banana like play-dough and hand me the rice cake each time I opened up into warrior two. I was starving, so each time she handed it to me I took a bite and gave it back. She was delighted. When I moved on to some balancing postures and was no longer playing the rice cake game, she began to throw food at me. I tested her patience long enough to spend some time in shoulder-stand before I bowed to my baby and said Namaste. 

I have struggled to keep up with my asana practice since I became a Mom last summer and it makes me angry. Angry at myself. I need my yoga practice now more than ever before. My 39 year old body is not easily "bouncing back" from pregnancy and my new mama brain is like a whole barrel of tequila swilling monkeys on vacation. Of course, finding time for yoga is also harder than it has ever been before.  I know that every time I stray from consistently making time for my pink yoga mat, and my matching meditation cushion, that I regret it. I know that every time I return to my practice I feel relieved. This periodic dance between prioritizing my practice, and falling off the yoga wagon is infuriating and I have never completely understood it. How hard is it? Really? Swami Sivananda taught that you only need to practice three postures every day to maintain vibrant health: shoulder-stand, headstand, and forward bend. I should be able to find fifteen minutes at the end of the day to practice three asanas. The trouble is, I think I make it harder than that. I want an hour to practice, or I want nothing at all.

I am guilty of this "all or  nothing" mentality in other areas of my life as well. It is a distinctly "UNyogi" like way of thinking. When our yoga practice is truly working, it should be about finding balance and practicing with ease. Not about pushing through to fulfill a prescribed metric. All too often when we push through to one extreme, the pendulum swings back in the other direction. Raja Dwesha. Likes and dislikes. Attraction and repulsion. When we live in these spaces of extremes, the opposite experience is always waiting.

I think this new Mama time is an opportunity to cultivate a new brand of acceptance and patience with myself. It is okay if I only get through 20 minutes of my practice. It is still worth doing. The yoga doesn't stop just because I fold up my pink mat. The yoga continues when I skip the spine strengthening asanas so I can go care for my baby girl. I am practicing mindfulness each time I take a breath and choose not to give in to exhaustion and react to a challenge at work. The yoga helps me let go of expectations as I navigate my co-parenting relationship with Mirabai's Dad.

It is hard to stay standing in half-moon pose while someone is throwing bananas at you. In fact, today I had to just laugh and fall out of the posture.  I will try again tomorrow. What I am learning is that finding balance in my new life, and in my practice, is a richer opportunity for growth than a day long master class intensive on inverted postures. It is an invitation to find the sweet space in the middle that has always alluded me.

I have read that the three elements of balance are alignment, strength, and attention. I will strive to stay in alignment with the my highest purpose. I will build strength and be patient as I go back to asanas that have not been part of my practice for the last year. I will keep my attention focused in each moment that I do have to take care of my body and soul.

As I think about balance, two asanas that I am drawn to this week are Dancer, or Natarajasana, and Crow, or Bakasana. Natarajasana has always made me feel especially strong. There is something about this pose that just feels beautiful. If I have  time for just one asana, this one can transform my spirit in 30 seconds or less. Crow pose was an asana that truly terrified me when I first encountered it. Crow pose taught me that a focused mind can overcome any perceived limitations of bodily strength. It is also a pose I stopped practicing towards the end of my pregnancy, and it is testing my patience with self as I introduce it back into my practice, and some days can't actually take flight as easefully as I once did. 

Live life in all possible ways; don't choose one thing against the other, and don't try to be in the middle. Don't try to balance yourself - balance is not something that can be cultivated. Balance is something that comes out of experiencing all the dimensions o flife. Balance is something that happens; it is not something that can be brought about through your efforts. If you bring it through your efforts it will be false, forced. And you will remain tense, you will not be relaxed, because how can a person who is trying to remain balanced in the middle be relaxed? You will always be afraid that if you relax you may start moving to the left or to the right. You are bound to remain uptight, and to be uptight is to miss the whole opportunity, the whole gift of life.Don't be uptight. Don't live life according to principles. Live life in its totality, drink life in its totality! Yes, sometimes it tastes bitter - so what? That taste of bitterness will make you capable of tasting its sweetness. You will be able to appreciate the sweetness only if you have tasted its bitterness. One who knows not how to cry will not know how to laugh, either. One who cannot enjoy a deep laughter, a belly laugh, that person's tears will be crocodile tears. They cannot be true, they cannot be authentic.I don't teach the middle way, I teach the total way. Then a balance comes of its own accord, and then that balance has tremendous beauty and grace. You have not forced it, it has simply come. By moving gracefully to the left, to the right, in the middle, slowly a balance comes to you because you remain so unidentified. When sadness comes, you know it will pass, and when happiness comes you know that will pass, too. Nothing remains; everything passes by. The only thing that always abides is your witnessing. That witnessing brings balance. That witnessingis balance. "

Excerpt from "The Book of Understanding" by OSHO.

The Real Gurus of America

Appointment TV...I fear...is the phrase I am looking for. It is hard to admit even owning a TV these days, let alone watching it. And don't get most people I love and respect started on the topic of reality TV. That lowbrow art form is the lowest of the low.

Hello. My name is Jessie and I am obsessed with Bethenny Frankel.

I made sure to be home by 8pm on Monday evening to catch the season finale of her hit television show Bethenny Ever After. If you don't know who Bethenny Frankel is then you must have missed the train wrecks called Real Housewives of New York City and Skating with the Stars. I'm not sure at what point in her reality starlet timeline Bethenny scored her own show, but last year the Bravo network's chronicle of 39-year-old Frankel, planning her wedding while pregnant with her first child, sucked me in. I immediately fell head-over-heels in love with her. I loved her so much I had to DVR her show so that I wouldn't miss a single moment of loving her and envying her urban fairytale existence.

I've known women like Bethenny in real life.  Women that exist in a space-time continuum where minutes are seconds. Women who pride themselves in being so god damn driven they don't need a partner, or friends, or any of the usual things women usually want. These women are typically very skinny and average about five sexual innuendos every fifteen minutes of conversation. Yep, I tend to be best friends with women like Bethenny, until we have some dramatic falling out and they never talk to me ever again. Women like Bethenny disown people a lot. Usually beginning with their alcoholic mothers, around age 26 when they can finally afford to go to therapy twice a week. Women like Bethenny are always in therapy. Did I mention Bethenny does yoga and is an acclaimed natural foods chef? Oh yes, more reasons to love her.

You see I love Bethenny because in many twisty ways (that I will rarely admit), Bethenny represents everything I want that I don't have. Her independent businesswoman rags to riches transformation is legitimately inspiring. In her mid-thirties Frankel had no money in her bank account and no baby daddies waiting for the perfect moment to drop a rock in the bottom of her champagne glass. Of course she was smokin' hot and had a cookbook on the New York Times bestseller list, so it is hard to believe that her two-year skyrocket to family life and millionairdom was really as remarkable as she makes it seem. Still, there is something sort of Cinderella about her rise to fame and fulfillment. Something that makes me think maybe I too could accomplish everything I'm kicking myself for having not accomplished before I turn 40. Bethenny turned 40 this year and threw herself a stylish party on episode #6 Fleeing form Forty.  She cried a lot on that episode. It was one of my favorites.

Bethenny and I have some things in common. Or, at least we did. We are both proud NYU alums. We both have small dogs we treat like children who bark all the time and bite deliverymen. We are both hyper expressive perfectionists and we are both interested in things like wellness and tequila.  It was this interest in tequila that Bethenny had the smarts to use to her advantage while I was merely drinking it. It happened in the middle of an episode of Real Housewives when Bethenny gave a waitress precise instructions as to how to make her margarita the mindful way and one of the housewives said, "That sounds good. I will have that too. It's like a skinnygirl margarita." For the record, I've always preferred silver tequila, refused to acknowledge margaritas that aren't made with fresh squeezed limejuice and I jumped on the agave syrup as only acceptable sweetener bandwagon while most folks were still enamored with Splenda.

Fast forward to the season finale on Monday evening and Bethenny is crying tears of joy over the offer she is accepting from a major distributor who wants to buy Skinnygirl Cocktails. An offer that is so big she can't disclose the numbers. An offer that will make her a very wealthy woman and go down as one of the biggest spirits deals in history. The Hollywood Reporter claims the price-tag was around 120 million. It was at this moment that Bethenny went from being merely a celebrity crush to guru status in my thirtysomething world. You see, I was disappointed that Bethenny's tears were the happy variety.

The commercials for the finale were edited expertly to make it seem as if something terrible was going to crash Ms. Frankel's party. Every time I saw the teaser, I wondered if perhaps Jason was finally sick of his wife flirting with her ice skating coach and was dumping her ass before they even made it to their first anniversary. Or, maybe her Canadian margarita factory exploded? It wasn't until I found out she was really crying because she was so thrilled about being filthy rich that I realized what a petty, jealous person I actually am.

There is this moment in Fierce Grace, the documentary about Ram Das after his stroke, where he confesses his revelation in the midst of confronting death. Affter all his years of being “Mr. Spiritual”, when it really mattered, everything he thought he understood about the universe gave way to fear. It was in that moment that he realized he still had quite a bit of work to do.

Apparently, so do I. I was actually disappointed by Bethenny's happiness. I wanted to see Bethenny fail. How awful is that? It certainly isn't very Christian, or very yogi, or very feminist, or very...good...at all. I was starting to hate her.

It wasn't just Bethenny's good fortune that was pissing me off. It was also her new book that was becoming fodder for my yogier-than-thou sense of superiority. During episode #10 Thin Ice and Ugly Sweaters, Bethenny embarks on a speaking tour to promote her new book, Place of Yes: 10 Rules for Everything You Want Out of Life. Really? Just like that Bethenny went from reality TV star, to margarita queen, to self-help guru? Before she was just lucky and beautiful, but now she's dispensing spiritual wisdom to crowds of adoring fans. She's sitting on stages in Pennsylvania saying the word "cock" as many times as she can and telling the women in the crowd all about Rule #1 Break the Chain: Surviving Childhood. I wonder if her therapist is getting a cut of the book sales?

So, why is it that I don't think Bethenny deserves to be a guru? Is it her pop culture notoriety and mainstream accessibility that disqualify her? The truth is it’s likely these very qualities that make her such a powerful teacher. Maybe her bite size morsels of wisdom seem shallow to me, but if she is making so many women feel better about themselves and more in control of their lives that's incredibly meaningful. Right?

In India gurus are celebrities. Their likenesses plastered on the side of ashram jeeps and boxes of branded sandlewood incense. Wilkipedia estimates the late Sai Baba’s followers to total more than 6 million. In America celebrity seems to be mutually exclusive with being a respected spiritual teacher. In fact, we seem to separate spirituality and popular culture all together.  Except when Oprah is concerned.

I’m not suggesting that Bethenny Frankel has achieved the saint like status of Amma or Osho. I am however suspicious of my own dismissal of what she has to offer because she’s just a TV star. Reality TV is a guilty pleasure, and it should be. But, how different is what we gleam from watching someone else’s’ life on the screen than what we learn from the experiences of those who achieve guru status? After all, isn’t most spiritual insight self-awareness? Perhaps reality TV gives us an opportunity to see ourselves in others and learn just a little bit about our shared human experience in the process.

I’m not sure what is next for my girl Bethenny. Will she return to another season on Bravo? Will she branch out and develop a low calorie all natural strawberry daiquiri? Will she continue her speaking tour and write another book?  Will she have a second baby post 40 and move to Malibu to live a very private life with Jason? I noticed she just launched a line of detox supplements on her website. Skinnygirl vitamins, the perfect companion to her Skinnygirl liquor empire. Yep, this is why I love Bethenny. She’s a walking contradiction. Kind of like me.

Well, whatever is next for Bethenny it will have to wait until after she battles the 100 million dollar lawsuit her former management team has brought against her. In People magazine today Bethenny commented, “Life is good for me with all the things that are most important, namely family, but let's be clear, I am a strong woman, and I am not afraid and won't back down when I'm bullied by something with zero merit. Success is earned by hard work, not taking advantage of others."

You go, guru girl.