Bikes and Birth - the Art of Focused Attention

I've been thinking a lot about different ways to explain the importance of focused attention to my YogaBirth couples.

Today, I happen to accompany my 3 1/2 year old outside as she rode her bike around in front of our house. As she struggled a bit to ride uphill, it struck me. She was - in her great effort to make it up the hill, squirming about, writhing left and right, pulling and pushing on the handlebars. At once going everywhere and nowhere. Her effort and energy was so scattered, she wasn't making any progress.

Once I advised her to slow down, step back, focus and direct her energy straight ahead, she zoomed up the hill with much less effort.

Such it is in birth, just as in yoga, if mind or body is scattered, unfocused, all over the place, it requires a lot of input for very limited results. But when you focus and harness your energy with clear intention in one direction, things proceed more smoothly - greater results with less effort.

Now, the teachings of yoga.

So begins the preeminent text of yogic philosophy, Patanjali's yoga
sutras. A phrase that, on first glance, appears to be introducing
words yet to come. But in actuality, that one line encompasses the
whole of what yoga is about. The now. The practice of aligning
yourself to your highest potential in each moment and actively
discovering how to live a radically alive life.

It is such a moment for me, as I take a leap toward authenticity,
service and love. I have left a lucrative freelance career in order to
focus my attention and energies on my children, my family and my
growing yoga family as I endeavor to inspire others to these practices
that will help them discover unbounded levels of joy and consciousness.

An Ashtanga and Vinyasa teacher (I like to think of myself as a
facilitator, the practice is the true teacher), I have become
especially dedicated to bringing this practice of self-knowledge and
innate wisdom to expecting families after my own amazing,
transformative, spirit infused birth experiences. It is, in fact, the
birth of my daughters that has ultimately cleared the path to this
moment that I am able to make the leap, and dedicate myself"now" to
sharing the teachings of yoga, which have enriched my life with more
awareness, love, wisdom, courage, happiness than I ever thought
possible.

Pregnancy yoga pioneer Gurmukh says in her book that our babies bring
gifts - opportunities in our lives that wouldn't have happened without
them. Through their birth, I have been born into a fuller evolution of
what I aspire to do with my energy and effort in this lifetime. They say if you follow your bliss, opportunities will open up to you that wouldn't have been there had you remained divided, unsure, fearful. I'm trusting that is true, and that the universe will reward
me for the courage of my convictions.

Baby Beluga or Parenting as Spiritual Practice

"Baby beluga in the deep blue sea. You swim so wild and you swim so free. Heaven above..."

I practice yoga for many reasons. It makes me feel great physically - strong, clear, healthy, balanced. It is mentally and emotionally cleansing - a wonderful release for negative emotions and a method for cultivating happiness, joy and contentment. But the ultimate purpose of yoga, and indeed the meaning of the word yoga, is union with the divine. The practice of yoga is meant to lead us to the remembrance that everything we are, do, say, feel, experience, think, intuit - is sacred, is divine, is God. The longer I practice, the more I experience this as the overarching purpose of the practice.

I had the opportunity to attend a workshop in Virginia this past weekend with one of my favorite Ashtanga teachers from California who was visiting. He was teaching for a week. Travis wasn't able to take a whole week off of work, so I was only able to go for a few days. Originally, I had planned to stay for four days. Travis had a work emergency that required he not stay past Sunday, so immediately it was down to three. We arrived on Thursday evening, and I was able to attend practice bright and early at 6:30 am on both Friday and Saturday. On Sunday, I woke up at 5:45 to be in the studio for 6:30 practice. I walked in at 6:15 and the place was dead. No one. I happened upon the sign in sheet and noticed that it read 8:30 start time. Apparently it had been changed, but I didn't know. I ran into someone in the parking lot who was just arriving. She informed me that practice had been changed to an 8:30 session of chanting the Hanuman Chalesa, and 9:30 asana practice. So I went back to our campsite, prepared to return at 8:30 for chanting - another method of the practice of yoga, or achieving divine union, divine joy.

As it turned out, once I got back down to the camp site and the rest of the family woke up, I got caught up with the girls and we began cleaning up the camp site while goofing around. I could hear the cars driving up the gravel road to The Barn (the studio was a converted barn space on a farm), and I knew it was time to go in for practice. Bella was jumping on the air mattress and we were singing Baby Beluga as she dove into the mattress as though it were the deep blue sea. I looked at her, thinking, I could leave, go sit in a room with 30+ people who are pretty much strangers, in order to chant an ode to Hanuman in an effort to achieve divine union, or I could stay right here in this beautiful forest - a divine setting - with people who teach me every day lessons in patience, acceptance, compassion, dedication, love and joy, and who most exemplify any awareness I have of what is God - my children. I had already paid to drop in on the practice. I had traveled all this way to work with this teacher. But ultimately, in that moment, the choice of the sacred became the choice of the everyday, the mundane but profound moments with my family, my girls. As we broke down the camp site, I listened to the sounds of the chalesa emanate from The Barn, I raised my voice in song too, but my song was of a different order. "Baby beluga in the deep blue sea, you swim so wild and you swim so free. Heaven above..." and in that forest, in that song, with my family, was the union with God that I strive for in practice. In that way, every moment is practice, every moment is perfect, every moment divine.

Eco Mama

I think I am fairly eco-conscious. I feel like I do my part for the environment. We recycle and compost kitchen waste. I walk as much as I can rather than drive, eat locally, don't drink bottled water, support organics and fair trade with my purchasing decisions. I'm always looking for ways to do more, better. Like last year, I gave up paper towels (except in certain rare instances) for kitchen towels and cloth napkins. But with a newborn on hand, I have taken this one to new heights. Forget cloth napkins - my own clothes have become the material with which we clean up our messes. Food, breastmilk, snot, spit - you name it - any bodily fluid that comes out of three of the four members of our family (thanks Travis for taking care of your own - usually!) I end up wearing, and often before 9 am. I'm all for saving the planet, but if you have a booger - USE A TISSUE!

Blossom in the Light of the Sun

As a parent, I've always heard about separation anxiety. I just always thought they meant the anxiety would be on the part of the child. Not so. Definitely the hardest part of having a second baby has been letting go of the closeness I had with the first. When there was only one, mommy was the sun in her universe. I did everything with her - jump on the bike at a moment's notice and go for a ride, sleep in and snuggle, whatever it was, it was always us. Not, of course, that we don't totally welcome and adore Aurora's presence in our lives, but it has meant a change in my relationship with Bella that I am still struggling to accept.

Now that there's another, a nursling, I must be physically much more present with her - holding, soothing, feeding. I'm grateful for every moment of that, but do find a bit of sadness in the fact that I can no longer be the sun in Bella's universe. Still a major planet, no doubt, but she's been forced to branch out to get her needs met, which is entirely good for her - I know I can't be, nor do I want to be, the sole source of support and love in her life, but it still makes me sad that I have to keep saying "mommy can't right now" and see the look of pleading in her eyes when she wants me to do something with her and I either have to tend to Aurora or I'm so brain dead from lacking sleep or the marathon that is every day, I can't be fully present and attentive.

I know it is good for Bella to have a closer relationship with her Dad - he is picking up the slack where I can't be available - and good for her to gain some independence - she poured her own glass of chocolate milk the other day - I mean got the cup, lid and straw, retrieved the milk from the fridge, poured it AND put it back. For her, life is evolving as it should be.

I suppose the yogic lesson in all this is in acceptance and letting go - the realization that nothing stays the same, everything is always changing and you have to be with what is, rather than remain attached to what was or to your ideas of what should be. And educational pioneer Rudolf Steiner says the age of three is the time that some separation from the mother and independence for the child begins, but I've still shed more than a few tears over the separation of myself from my first born. I suppose I should take comfort in the fact that even as she blossoms, I will remain her roots.

A Day in the life of a Mother

Mothers are often short on time for themselves, so today's version of that was first: shower. Saucha, you know. Second eat lunch (apple) while practicing yoga (sun salutation A repeated).

Upward dog, downward dog, bite. Inhale, exhale, chew.

Ahh, the life of a mother...

Today as I came to the mat, I lit my usual incense, but this time with thoughts of Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, who left his body yesterday. I read that yesterday - left his body - as a way of describing his death, and it felt more real to me, more positive, not so sad as death, but more like a new beginning, much like birth, which has been on my mind a lot lately as well for obvious reasons (i.e. 3 week old baby!).

I must say I am not really saddened by the news. I am saddened for his family, and his Ashtanga family, who will certainly miss his jovial and dedicated spirit and presence, but he has achieved the ultimate union, and I truly belive nothing ever dies, just changes form, consciousness & embodiment. So I know he has peacefully made such a transition and is consciousness.

Thoughts of Guruji's story - who selflessly dedicated himself to the service of yoga and spreading its tools and blessings - meet me at a crossroads in my own life, in which my spirit is encouraging me to let go of a part of my professional life that, after the birth of Aurora, feels like dead weight and dedicate myself to this practice and work of yoga. But my dedication to providing for my family and need to pay the bills keep me hanging on. I need to let go of the idea that there can be no abundance if I focus on teaching yoga and trust in fact that there can be greater abundance if I truly dedicate myself to the path and focus my energies.