Shakti Rising Yoga

Writing has always been a passion for me, albeit the practice of it has been on the back burner simmering the creative juices slowly for some time. So when the invite came to write for the premier issue of Grand Valley Magazine, a classy community publication which features local writers and stunning photography, I was vastly honored. Featured below is the article that appeared in the Premier October issue. If you are local to the Grand Valley and have yet to pick up your copy of GVM go pick one up, read it, display it on your coffee table and watch your heart swell with pride and love for the amazing community we live in!

Continue reading ‘Seasons and Cycles’

I left John Friend’s Anusara Therapy Training in Park City this past June with an abundance of information. One particular thing he said has flowed through my mind often since then. He stated that tears of joy and tears of sorrow leave the eyes at different corners. Tears of joy leave from the outer corners and tears of sorrow from the inner. Hmmmmm……I had never noticed or even really thought about it, but I was excited to bring more awareness to this detail.

This evening, inspired by a beautiful movie with a soundtrack consisting mostly of songs from the Polyphonic Spree, I rounded up the Hound, set the Ipod on my personal collection of Spree songs and headed to higher ground for a dusky ramble in the desert. Many people, at some point, follow a spontaneous thought into action, and somewhere along the way realize, in a serendipitous moment, that they are being guided by something much bigger than their own cerebral movement.

As I climbed Little Park Road toward the increasing presence of juniper and pinyon, my focus was on the particular beauty of the setting sun that only happens when sky is filled with smoke. The west flank of the Grand Mesa has been on fire for days now causing extreme haze in the Grand Valley. However, at this moment I did not notice, as I had been for the past few days, the dryness of my nose or the thick quality of the air I was breathing. The volume on the stereo was high, I sang Spree songs at the top of my lungs and reveled in the magnitude and radiance of the glowing orb hovering over the Colorado National Monument.

Those who study and practice yoga will, at some point, begin to learn about the Sanskrit term “drishti” which in short refers to the gaze. Through their practice, the ancient yogis found that when the gaze is directed, our attention naturally follows to that place and that the attentiveness of our gaze will reflect in the timbre of our thoughts. I have heard several Anusara teachers invite students to evaluate their drishti both on and off their mats. Cultivating your awareness of your drishti can empower you to direct the flow of your life onto paths that serve and nourish you.

Tonight as I navigated higher into the desert, I realized my gaze, my focus was the present moment. The moment was a symphonic blending of music, the setting sun, a happy hound with ears billowing in the wind, and my cumulative joyful experience of it all. And in that moment, I was excited to discover that tears were streaming from the outer corners of my eyes…

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It occurred to me that this is the second time The Polyphonic Spree has been mentioned on this blog and both times have been an integral part of the experience I have been writing about so I wanted to share more about this incredible group. To me, The Spree is about celebrating fragility and deepening our connection to our heartspace.

“The Polyphonic Spree march to the beat of their own drum, promote vulnerability against all odds, prove that choirs should dance, offer relief from the seductive trap of cool, know about sadness but point to lightness, are more than a band ( A community? A penal colony? Noah’s new ark?) should be seen live, once confused with terrorists but only by the very, very afraid, spiritual midwife to your fears, a house with all the doors removed, an inexplicable slogan that you know is right, proof that the revolution may be soft and loud at the same time. Explosions can be fun and easy. The mess is honest. We have each other.” -artist/filmmaker Mike Mills-director of “Thumbsucker”

The paradigm of health care is shifting. As we continue to reconnect with “the whole person”, people are wanting more out of their health care and now Grand Junction is delivering.

The Integrated Medicine Center of Western Colorado, founded by Scott Rollins, MD, has it’s doors open for business and is bringing together a varied range of approaches to health care which support and compliment each other. At the IMC patients have options ranging from traditional Western Medicine, Eastern healing modalities (Accupuncture, Yoga Therapy, Tai Chi) and other alternative therapies (Naturopathy, Massage Therapy). And this is just the beginning. For a growing list of providers please click here.

Shakti Rising Yoga is honored to be offering services at the IMC. These services will include a Gentle Yoga class focusing on the Anusara® Universal Principles of Alignment™ and Private Yoga Therapy sessions.

The class will be held on Thursdays at 5:30 pm. Start date is TBA.

To schedule a private session please call (970) 640-3276.

For years there has been controversy and debate over the claim that Eskimos have numerous words for snow. I have read anything from four to nine to four hundred. I’m not interested in engaging in a linguistic debate. What I am interested in is the following quote from novelist Margaret Atwood: “The Eskimos had 52 names for snow because it was important to them. There ought to be as many for love.” I have no idea as to the accuracy of her claim, but I do feel drawn to exploring her second statement. In fact, one of my favorite astrologers, writers and proclaimers of the wondrous abundance of life and human divinity, Rob Brezny issued an assignment in a weekly forecast not too long ago inviting the coining of nine new names for love in the year 2008. So far I have two and continue to dream and seek experiences which will bring the other seven into creation.

But why stop at nine? I am looking for fellow dreamers. Those who are actively creating and seeking to know love in expanded form. Join this interactive experiment with me by sending comments or emailing me with your newly coined words describing an altered state of love which you have experienced, are experiencing or wish to experience. Brezny advises, “…you’ll have to put aside your habitual expectations and standard definitions of what constitutes love so that you can explore an amazing array of nuances.”

I will create a running list of words which will be updated on this blog as they come in. This list of words which will then be compiled onto a display which will be taken to Burning Man this year and will include room for those at the Burn to make additions.

This year’s theme at the Burn is “American Dream.” Is it your dream to see this country fueled more by the passion for love manifest? If yes, then bring your dreams to the virtual table and send me your words. I’ll start it off…

You that love lovers, this is your home. Welcome!  ~Rumi

1.Polyasana: the love of all yoga postures
2. Dogape: the experience of expansive and unconditional love from dogs
3. Lithadore: the infatuation with fondling rocks    Contributed by Michael Dewey

4. Audioblisstonic: the experience of ecstasy while dancing to music that gives you permagrin.

5. Your word here!

Swaying charred boards hanging from rusty cables……remnants of the historic Dewey Bridge. In an instant the curiosity of a child and a spark of fire set into motion the metamorphosis of a desert icon from “permanent” fixture to a wisp of what was, reminding us that the only thing constant is change. The desert landscape has a way of inviting us into conversation with her about the transformation and exchange of energy.

Further down the road a Great Blue Heron rests for a moment, preening, on an exposed tongue of sand, jutting from the bank of the Colorado River. A tongue of sand that will eventually shape shift as the spring progresses into a mass of swirling particles which may or may not reconnect on down the river. The heron seems unconcerned that its current perch will most likely be washed away as the spring melt ensues. A puff of dingy foam floats past, another momentary fixture in this river ecosystem reminding me to bring my sights to the road ahead. I pick up speed, shift into fourth gear and wind on down River
Road towards my retreat in the desert.

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Brown’s Hole has the familiar comfort of an Appalachian Mountain “hollar”, yet at the same time evokes the powerful rawness that only the desert can. Coming from the mountains of North Carolina and now deeply in love with the desert, I am content in the artful blend of past and present that this little piece of land just south of Moab brings me.

My friend purchased acreage in Brown’s Hole a few years back which now provides many fortunate friends willing to swing an axe or dig a hole for a few hours a retreat spot or even a place to live if your willingness extends beyond a few hours. For me it’s a place to be reminded of a simpler, more sustainable way of life……..and all the hard work and devotion it takes to create it. It also affirms my communal nature, an evolving piece of myself that I gravitate towards more and more with each passing day. Here a very small group of people live and create community through an off-the-grid self sustaining lifestyle-food is grown on site and cooked in a wood fired stove, electricity is collected from the energies of the sun and water, small abodes are built from the immediate earth and local hay and vehicles are run off recycled grease.

I arrive in the late afternoon after a peaceful desert drive excited by the sounds of the Polyphonic Spree. Immediately I launch into helping plant fruit trees which are being delicately grafted onto root stock and then it’s on to digging a fresh bed in the garden and planting asparagus. I enjoy chatting with friends, my hands sifting through the freshly churned earth. Springtime in the desert is always sacred, but somehow knowing that my energy is a combined effort with those around me to create sustenance in a land that asks for so much trust and devotion in order to provide bounty brings an even more sacred nature to the experience.

As a yogini making a career out of being a yogini, my mind often wanders into the dichotomy of how can I live a life this connected to the earth and still follow my passion of teaching yoga as a way of earning a living. And how can I live this kind of life and still have my internet connection. Well, really that’s just a matter of $150 a month and satellite internet. I suppose that’s the easy part.

The following day is spent mostly getting sunburned and trading philosophies with a girlfriend while the freshly grafted fruit trees bask nearby in a constant cooling mist from the sprinkler system. After awhile I wander up the dirt road with The Hound and up the hill for some time spent on a rock pondering my yogini conundrum. I keep thinking back to the Dewey Bridge and the heron on its momentary sandbar watching the puff of foam float by. Then I drift off into a light sleep next to a purple flower. I wake a bit later to the conversation below between a rooster and a hen on an property adjoining my friend’s. I see my friends on the roof of the straw bale peanut shaped community house tacking on new metal sheeting for the roof and off in the distance on another property a hammer is swung over and over reverberating it’s song off the short cliff walls that cradle Brown’s Hole. Brown’s Hole has always seemed so vast to me, but from here it looks so small as my eyes regain full focus and are able to discern the miles of red rock canyon land off in the distance. I remember again the bridge, the heron, the foam and reconnect with the knowledge that the only thing constant is change and that in the big picture the current assumptions I am working off probably have only a fraction of relevance. So perhaps I don’t have the answer about finding my midline between the continued development of myself as a yoga teacher and living more sustainably in the vision that I currently have. That’s what moving toward the unknown is……it’s about not having answers laid before us, trusting that we live in perfect chaos and having compassion and love for all the processes that take us to the next moment of our amorphous realities. Tomorrow the bridge may not be here and the foam will have blended itself back into the bigger collective of the river’s currents.

I can only make choices for my present moment. My present moment finds me happily situated before my internet connection before I take off to teach my next yoga class in a community that I adore.

I would like for a moment to express HUGE GRATITUDE to my dear friend and awesomely talented photographer Shawn Reeder. The header photo and the photo on the Yoga Page are just two examples of his graceful way of forever preserving a moment of time and space. These are images from two different mornings of chilly sunrise shooting in the beautiful Buttermilks beneath the base of the Eastern Sierras just outside Bishop, California, where Shawn continues to draw his inspiration for his art. I offer him deep gratitude for allowing me the use of these images and for the joyful way that he continues to offer his pieces of inspiration, leaving the viewer suspended for a moment in Divinity.

Shawn also writes, records and produces music for artists to use on their websites. If you would like to see more of Shawn’s art, hire him to photograph your wedding, hear his musical compositions, or read interesting bits in his blog, you can find him here.

I’m pretty sure there is still ice from early December crusted on my street in front of my house. Those first few December molecules of frozen 2H’s and an O almost were released back into the atmospheric cycles with a couple of recent warm days, but it has quickly returned to cold and snow, so for the meantime, they remain encapsulated in their landlocked positions, dormant until the next rays of sunshine bring them potential for movement. I’m not complaining. I know all the precipitation is good for our water table. But really, it has so far been an exceptionally cold, cold winter here in the Grand Valley.  So any way to create warmth in our hearts, bodies and souls is a blessing that nourishes us until warmer days come our way.                                                        This brings me to Chai! I have had many requests for my “recipe” for homemade chai. But I don’t really use a recipe.  I just throw spices in a pot according to what intuitively sounds good (because for me no two batches of chai are the same). However, a nice midline from which to base all your other chai creations on can be helpful, so here is that midline from which you can start, but please, please go outside the lines! Explore and let your chai become a creative expression for you based on your mood or the season (ie. in the summer I use less ginger and pepper and more anise) It’s fun. Dance with it! 

Shakti Rising Chai     

•  2 oz star anise
• 1/8 c. fennel seeds
• 2-3 cinnamon sticks
• 20 whole cloves
• 12-15 cardamom pods 
• 6-8 thick (1/4″) slices ginger
• 1/8 c. black peppercorns
• small shaving off a nutmeg
• 8-10 allspice
• 1/4 c. coriander seeds
• 6-7 black or green tea bags
• 8 cups water (you may need to add more as tea boils)
• sweetener (agave, maple syrup, honey) to taste
• soy or regular milk to taste                                                                                                      

 Put all spices and water into a pot with water. Bring to a boil. Turn to medium heat and simmer for 30-40 minutes (add more water as needed). Turn off heat and let steep for 1-3 hours. Bring to a boil again and then turn off heat. Add tea bags for about 5 minutes. Remove tea bags and strain out spices. Add sweetner to taste. I usually just put the tea in a container in the fridge and when I want a cup I heat it up and whisk in some soymilk. This way it stays fresh longer.     

About the Header Picture:
Then………..Early Eastern Sierra morning with a setting moon and a rising sun……both hanging luminously in the sky, meeting for a moment in the gap, the pause between the breath, the place of Divinity. Our arms outstretched towards the advent of a new breath, a new day, a new experience.

Now………First snowfall for the Grand Valley outside my window…..the view brings a cozy comfort to my place in an overstuffed chair at the kitchen table, a place created by the inspiration brought by an Eastern Sierra Muse with big blue eyes and an even bigger heart.

Muse,

You handed me the keys to your studio and a confidence I did not yet have in myself. Your open heart advanced my steps towards the embrace of Shakti dancing in my own life by letting her dance so freely through yours. I am eternally grateful to you, muse, as a teacher, a friend and a catalyst for growth. A lesson on both the permanence and impermanence of connection helps me step more fully into experiencing the pulsation of this life, this universe. You are held in a place of honor in the altar of my heart.

Namaste