I have a confession to make. I, more often than is comfortable, feel like I don’t quite fully belong.

To anything.

I have an incredible and resounding community of people which I consider to be not only friends, but family. So, this statement is not to discount my many luminous and authentic connections with the people I love.

As many of us may have, I awoke this morning and began a contemplation of this day which honors one of our greatest humanitarians, social leaders and potent philosophers/activitists of the civil rights movement. Martin Luther King. It is my practice on this day to spend time reconnecting with his passionate and powerful words and to offer gratitude for one of our fearless.

Today, the one quote, which I had not come across until today, that vibrated with familiar clarity and poignancy in my heart is this:

Human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted ~MLK

YES PLEASE!!!

It is interesting that the term “maladjusted” refers to those who have always had or are reclaiming their own relationship to time, space and vibration, liberating themselves from the narrow confines and Pavlovian responses that our perfectly timed school bells taught us so long ago. Yet it is the “maladjusted” who seek and question and invent and catalyze dynamic solutions, mind bending ideas and radical change.

It has left me wondering how many times did Dr. King sit in his own head with the very feeling I have confessed to? Did he ever feel alone? Did he ever feel that the next inspired words to come out of his mouth might just be the ones that left people with a blank stare of incomprehension or a flat out response of rejection.

A dear friend once pointed out to me that the word “alone” breaks down as “all one.”

And in my moments of feeling that sense of unbelonging or aloneness, I realize that I have a choice to either react to the rising swell of emotions this can bring up when we immerse ourselves in our human ego or if I am able to embrace and look into the shadow, I can practice going inside, listening to my heartbeat and in the moments I am actually able to achieve a glimpse of stillness, this is where the “alone” transmutes itself, with a serpentine slither and glide, to the “all one.”

Sanskrit has a word for this. Kaivalya. Which translates as “isolation, aloneness, independence, absolute oneness.” The aloneness is the space between the breath, the sacred awareness that the aloneness can bring a profound experience of connection to the oneness.

It is the emergence from the perception of unbelonging or aloneness that has the potential to crystallize our “human salvation.”  Those “maladjusted” states are a healthy refusal to accept what does not resonate with us and give us voice to speak our truths, create our art, and activate movement to design our lives, around and within, that which informs our individual divine nature.

Recently, I have found myself, admittedly fearful and sometimes knee-deep in the self-pitying quagmire of I-don’t-know-where-I-belong muck, at a cross-roads.  My throat chakra tightens and my tongue presses protectively against the roof of my mouth. Do I speak up and share the experiences of my life, my perceptions and awarenesses, including the most uncomfortably revealing ones? Will fully revealing my story actually help others to embrace and connect with their own story, their own truth or will it be a self-indulgent instrument of my own ego? I’m sure that as this process continues to unravel, the answer will become clear.

Dr. King continues to serve us through the willingness he had to raise his heart up through the power of his voice and reveal his “maladjustment.”

Whether we are currently exposing, contemplating the unveiling, or in the process of discovering our stories, our truths, our “maladjustments” more words of Dr. King’s come to mind.

The highest form of maturity is self-inquiry. ~MLK

Can we feel alone, feel unsettled, scratch those cerebral and existential itches, open dialogue with ourselves and allow what unfolds to simply BE?

I still believe that one of our most powerful tools is our vulnerability and the shift that is required for our “human salvation” depends upon it.

The axe falls, wood splits and my eyes open. Someone has already begun to greet the day and filtered down through the sage and pinion to the Big House to prepare the morning fire so we can have hot water for tea.

I linger with sleepy eyes between the warmth of my sheets searching my morning practice–find three things I am grateful for before my feet hit the cool earthen floor beside the bed. Almost always these days, one of these things is the simple peaceful life that I am here on the farm learning to live.

Out here in this desert landscape, we are governed by the signals from the seasons and the complex life of power lines, crosswalk signals and strip malls full of mostly unnecessary items fade into the realm of parallel universe.

Out here, there seems to be no question as to WHO we are, because who we are depends on what we do to sustain ourselves and what we are able to reap from the earth. There seems to be no distinction between self and the land because so much of what we do and what the land does is all interdependent. And everyday there is something to do in order to ensure sustained life. This is what I have found, anyway, to be true of living closer to the earth.

The fragile sense of identity I brought with me to this farm–one constructed on a constantly shifting foundation of what I was climbing or skiing, what performance art I was exploring, how many yoga classes I was teaching, what music I was listening to, what festival I had been to and so on– has been cultivated into a powerful, resilient sense of who I am and what I value.

No gas powered tool has ever been used to break the acre of earth that we garden in here. A quiver of long handled hoes, rakes and sturdy shovels garnish the entry way into our solar powered shop. Each time I pass by these tools, I am reminded of the value of placing yourself one degree closer to the hand-to-earth connection. I reawaken to hard earned wonders of simplicity in action and joyfully embrace a life removed from ease and convenience remembering that everything which I value has come from a sizable investment of heart, patience, work, and gratitude.

When I step onto my mat or sit in meditation, I feel the gratitude that comes from living simply permeate my skin and dissolve into my core. I am able to more readily accept what is in my moment of experience in my physical body and beyond to the world off the mat.

The experience I am having on the farm is one which I feel privileged to have each day that I am here. Especially considering I know this is not my final landing place, my days here are precious. But I know that once I no longer reside here, this kind of simplicity has become part of my cellular memory and the sweetness of its flavor will always be present and accessible.

Out here, I’m not learning to create identity as a farmer…..I learned to see the interdependence of all of our experiences….I am learning what is and what is not necessary to be a human being.

As I find myself deeper in this realm (I make handmade hula hoops and now upcycled utility belts) I find myself more impassioned with the support of local, independent goods and services. However, I will not use this post to shamelessly promote myself. I am going to shamelessly and proudly promote my friend and gifted healer, Sara Taylor.

Sara is a Clinical Herbalist, Cranial Sacral Therapist and the creator of the Herbal Roots Eco-First Aid™ Kit.

Sara gifted me one of her kits and now there is hardly anywhere I go without it. It’s AWESOME!! Like unicorns and rainbows awesome. I have used it already on many occasions for all kinds of reasons: sore throat, a boo-boo, trauma, I love that roll of gauze!!, poison oak, stress. I have stocked it with a few of my own remedies and restocked some of the ones already included in the great little containers provided in the kit.

These kits contain nine organic and wildcrafted remedies, tweezers, gauze, scissors, bandaids, trauma pads, a honey stick, Floracopeia tea tree oil and it’s all packaged up in a eco-friendly hemp bag from Hempmania™.

If you want to find out more about Sara and her product and services, you can click here to visit her site for Herbal Roots Apothecary.

Yoga is about what you choose to bind or yoke yourself to. Choosing consciously this Holiday season as well extending this active support for independent artisans and crafters into your daily purchases is yet another really cool way to imbibe your yoga elixir!

Last post: January.  Well, it’s clear where I haven’t been this year.  Ready, set, roll. I do believe I hear an old tape begin to play. (Internal dialogue ensues: “Oh wait, do I even have a tape player? Why, yes, buried under the crate of coat hangers in the storage shed. ” Ahhh…Monkey Mind Coach Lines it is! )

The hiss and crackle of a poorly recorded, yet somehow lasting (karmically embedded?) tune begins it’s first notes. At first unrecognizable, but then in a moment, the melodramatic whiney violin takes it’s cue. Oh right, that’s the self-depricating tune called “The Bagillion Ghosts of Things You’re NOT Doing Will Haunt You Tonight.” Hadn’t I eighty-sixed THAT one back in February?!

Well, yes, I had and the story goes like this. A long standing cold virus interspersed with a psoas injury that took over a month to heal kept me from any vigorous asana practice, as well as way too many days of powder skiing, for close to two months. At first the type A yogini in me became highly critical of this lack of practice and then I recalled a teaching which one of  my teachers, Rod Stryker, had unveiled for me back in November 2009.  In one of his workshops, he spoke about dedicating to a practice that first created a stable container in which to expand from….a biodegradable, eco-friendly container of course. Explained further, what I basically understood him to say is that sometimes a heated asana practice, while yes, we know, can feel oh so good, has the potential to add fuel to the fire of any pre-existing instability and create restlessness and overstimulation, be it in the mind, body or spirit. (To learn more about Stryker’s method, Parayoga, click here.)

Well, I was certainly not in a place of balance, so instead of berating my almost non-existent physical practice, I chose to dive deeply into the one of the other 7 limbs of this thing we call yoga. 2010 already had revealed a window into generative possibility and great transformation early on, so focusing on what you “ought do”, the Niyamas, rather than what one “ought not do”, the Yamas, seemed the obvious choice of practice for cultivating this stable container.

The Niyamas are about how we treat ourselves-our disciplines, our spiritual practices and observances.( If you want to read more specifically about the Niyamas click here for a short, sweet, contemporary explanation I found in elephantjournal.com. )

For the past year, I had been teaching yoga to women in substance abuse rehab groups and had touted, in more conceptual terms, the lessons of the Niyamas as coping skills for their recovery process. Again, what better time to really, I mean REALLY, in a raw, compassionately uncomfortable, let’s-get-intimate-and-cozy-with-our-shadow kind of way, take a look at my personal trek through the hills and valleys of consciousness. Awww crap. 108 Sun Salutations with a psoas injury was starting to sound like a walk in the park next to this endeavor.  But, I was reminded of a reframing exercise that both enticed and repulsed me which Rob Brezsny, author of one of my bibles, Pronoia: Is the Antidote for Paranoia, had offered up which instructed, “Go to the ugliest or most forlorn place you know — a drugstore parking lot, the front porch of a crack house, a toxic waste dump, or the place that symbolizes your secret shame — and build a shrine devoted to beauty, truth, and love.”

Ok, fine. Sign me up. I have my helmet on.

Fast forward: November 2010.  Taking y’all through the sticky, crusty juiciness of this transmutative practice is not my intention in all these ramblings.  This is just reflective musing on the ways in which we can, very humanly, pound our fists and stomp our feet  in resistance to our current situation. (Ummm…. Now look what’s on the bottom of my shoe.) However, we can then realize we are being given an opportunity to reframe our perspective, choose to create acceptance of each moment as a perfect moment and then set intentions and practice and manifest those intentions.  This practice is an embodiment of the 3 A’s of Anusara: Attitude, Alignment and Action. For more info on the 3 A’s click here to check out my friend Kimberly’s blog.

For the record, I hope this does not come off  sounding like some easy or enjoyable woo woo hippie jenk process. Yes, jenk is a word even though Microsoft Word deems is red linable.  (You can read all the fun and some slightly, um, graphic, definitions at urbandictionary.com)  As my philosophy teacher, Douglas Brooks, so gracefully puts it: This process can feel like being given the “Divine Bitch Slap.” It can be some of the most challenging work in life–to make our practice one of embracing intense self-reflection. However, as the challenging month of October this year taught me in such a “hurts so good” kind of way, the beauty is wherever we choose to see it.

So how are my remaining 38 days of 2010 going to unfold?

I’ve been back on the mat and I feel a gentleness in my relationship with myself here. I hear the old tapes, catch myself thinking about listening to them, but then I mostly just laugh, giving gratitude for all the tough love they’ve given me. But the truth is, it seems, our lessons will continue to manifest for us over and over in a variety of amorphous ways that allow us opportunity to be the ultimate shapeshifters of our consciousness.

My friend Terry, pointed out to me the other day that I really do want to know the future. All the time. I suppose if we’re being all authentic and honestly self-reflective here, yes, Surrender to the unknown is a a tough one for me. For a lot of us I suspect.

See, there I am with the crystal ball. You see I am not holding it.

That seems to be the way the story goes, hmmmmm. Trust… All those Niyamas distill down to this one thing for me. On and off the mat.

DETAILS~~~~DETAILS~~~~DETAILS

Session Dates: January 19-February 23

Time: 7:30-8:30 pm

Location: Center for Independence  740 Gunnison Ave. Grand Junction

Investment: $60 if paid by 1/16

$70 if paid after 1/16

TO REGISTER CALL       970.640.3276

*****Space is limited. Be sure to register early to secure your spot!!*****

As one of 12 owner/instructors, my Anusara Inspired yoga classes are just one of the many offerings at YWC. Featuring classes ranging from Compassionate Communication to Qigong to Children’s Theater, as well a host of yoga styles, YWC is the first center of it’s kind here in the Grand Valley.

Please visit the YWC website which is currently undergoing changes, but still provides a lot of great information and more about how to find us!

YWC is located at 1025 Main Street in Grand Junction.

•Tones and sculpts the entire body
•Strengthens the core
•Low impact cardio workout
•Increases flexibility
•Develops agility and balance
•Improves coordination
•Energizing
•Inspires creative expression
•You smile, laugh and have FUN!

This 6 week session will teach you the basics of hooping and progress into learning how to move within the hoop, hoop tricks and linking moves into the flow of HoopDance.

Class Time: Tuesdays, August 18-September 22
7:30-8:30 pm @ the Center for Independence 740 Gunnison Ave. Grand Junction

Investment:
Six week session: $60

Registration payment due by August 14.
Call 640.3276 to register.

If you have completed a previous six week session you may drop-in for $12 a class.

NEED A HOOP?                                   

Shakti Rising Hoops are handcrafted from durable materials and beautifully wrapped in a variety of sizes and colors.

Custom hoops are available!!

Hoop prices range from $25-$45 for adult hoops and $20-$40 for children’s hoops.

The yurt has been transformed into a Red Tent, a place for women to gather, practice yoga, share and look deeper into their hearts.

This Tent marks the end of my second year facilitating these gatherings and this Tent, themed “Educating the Heart” was particularly special being a fundraiser for Central Asia Institute, the non-profit founded by Greg Mortenson, co-author of Three Cups of Tea.

This book tells the remarkable story of Mortenson’s journey from an attempt to summit K2, the world’s second highest peak, to dedicating his life’s work to building schools, especially for girls, in remote regions of Pakistan and Afghanistan. Mortenson’s premise is that if the women of these regions have education, access to being economically viable, and confidence in their voice that fundamentalist ideals have less chance of surviving in these remote villages. With these voices, empowered words for peace have a stronger presence.

Nigerian civil rights activist, Hafsat Abiola, captures Mortenson’s mission in the following words:

“Peace comes from being able to contribute the best that we have, and all that we are, toward creating a world that supports everyone. But it is also securing the space for others to contribute the best that they have and all that they are.”

The Grand Valley Red Tent Community raised over $800 (which pays a teacher’s yearly salary and some) toward securing such space for the children and women of these remote villages through the Winter Solstice Red Tent.

Humbled and honored to be a part of such an amazing group of women, I fold my hands in a sweet bow, to these women and those, who in their own way, are teaching and helping others to create and secure space for positive contribution.

The seasons of the Grand Valley glide slowly into one another in accordance with the cycles of nature that govern their flow. I’ve lived in different places where the shift of seasons seem more abrupt, so I appreciate the cadence of change here in this valley.
Even so, I sometimes think “What? It’s already winter? Where did autumn go?”
Making time for small rituals is one way to create a pause and cloak ourselves in warmth and reflection. Think of it as seasonal alchemy. Being mindful, centered, and calm can bring us to a place where we acknowledge the waning light of the sun or savor the vibrant gold of the cottonwood leaves.
Don’t let the word “ritual” spook you. It’s just activity. Here’s a centering ritual you can do in 30 minutes. It’s all about tea (a spicy version called chai), breath, and massage.

Chai

Start heating a pot of water and begin adding chai spices (see recipe for Shakti Rising Chai in the January 2008 post). Once water has come to a boil, reduce to a simmer and find a quiet spot to lie down on the floor or on your bed.

Breathing

Lie on your back and listen to the sounds around you (a clock ticking, your dog snoring, whatever). Now notice the rhythm of your breath. Begin to cultivate a slower, deeper, quieter breath, and bring it into the abdomen. Place your right hand on your belly and bring your focus to the rise and fall of your abdomen. Continue for five minutes or so, then bring your attention back to the moment.

Massage

With a warming oil such as sesame or ashwagandha, massage your hands and feet. (These are balancing oils for the seasonal changes of fall and winter. Ashwagandha oil is available locally at Yoga West.) Work the oil into knuckles, joints, the spaces between digits.

Chai Again

Now you‘ve reconnected with your breath and honored your hard-working hands and feet. In the kitchen, your spices are simmering. Depending on how long your breathing meditation and massage have taken, it might be time to add tea bags (you’ll want the spices to simmer about half an hour). Leave the tea in for a few minutes; strain, add sweetener and milk and vanilla, if you like. Enjoy a steaming mug of chai sitting in the sunshine or looking outside through your favorite window. You can almost see the world turning, the seasons changing.

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”