It's all Yoga!

I am overjoyed at how with every birthing class we take, I discover it is all YOGA!  They don't call it that of course, but that's what it all is. We've been taught all of the following: deep breathing, visualization, concentration, surrendering, movement, stretching, relaxation, tense and release, being in the moment, "cleansing" breath.  Hmmm - it's deergha swaasam breathing, several of the 8 limbs (including dhyana, dharana, asana and of course, pranayama), naadi suddi, yoga nidra and kundalini cleansing!

How exciting, empowering and relieving, because, hey - I know this stuff!  It's not all brand new or foreign.  I couldn't feel more grateful for that.  I knew yoga would be a part of my pregnancy, but I truly didn't realize how integral it would be to the labor and birth.  It is quite astounding to me. 

Gurmukh's yoga continues to be my calming retreat as I near the finish line.   I'm at 34 weeks and this little girl moves vigorously, enjoying full out womb dance parties several times a day. I can feel her little feet and what feels like elbows or knees poking and rolling over.  I'm constantly dreaming of her birth - it's always in water - and always involving something bizarre like boats driving around or her popping out and looking like a one-year-old, all smiley and clean.

Being this pregnant has conjured up sense memories of India.  In the beginning during the first trimester when I was so brutally sick, my body memory immediately went back to the parasite I had from India and how severely ill I felt.  My time there was nothing short of an electrifying hell, a multisensory assault on my body, spirit and mind, an electrocution to my system that left me spit up on the side of the pot-filled, dung-burning dirt road. I went for spiritual peace, but instead, India turned my entire world turned upside down, inside out, just like she did my insides with that nasty, raging, violent parasite that left me weak and barely breathing.

Yet, now in the third trimester, a different type of body/sense memory is awakening. India was the first time I ever felt the yearning or desire to be a mother.  I was 24 and until this hadn't given much thought to kids or ever felt anything close to a maternal instinct.  I was too busy chasing love, obsessing over my career and focusing on myself, like most girls in their early 20s these days.  But there was something about India that flickered a spark in me, a small seed of awakening, just slightly and subtle that whispered inside of me - "create".   Create despite of, or perhaps because of, all of the death and misery and suffering and unspeakable I had witnessed in those filthy, colorful, bizarre, chaotic streets.  Because admist all that you can't explain or make sense of or wrap your mind around, you realize you want to do everything you can to sustain life, not take it away, but to give and create and not contribute to the suffering.

I know there will be suffering and pain in bringing this little girl into the world and there will be suffering and pain in the world she will live.  But, I still can't help but feel all of this is nothing short of a miracle.  As I experience something so primal that links me to women in all languages, cultures, ethnicities, religions, countries and eras, I feel unified with a greater feminine soul in this journey of creation.  And inside, I feel this great soul, a Mahatma, unfolding mysteriously, hidden from view, but very present, waiting to bud and make her arrival.   

Only six more weeks or so to go!

Mother's Day

This Mother's Day feels really special to me.  I'm at 30 weeks now and she's been doing the Olympics inside my uterus.  Nothing is more fascinating to me now than laying down and watching my stomach flip and turn and pulse, just witnessing her communication and dance. 

Everything feels different now, even the smallest things take the greatest effort - gardening, doing the dishes, taking a walk, teaching class, getting groceries...everything is done with significant breathing and a constant exhaustion.  Yoga has definitely evolved into something different and new.  Hell, being able to shave my legs properly has become a form of yoga for me!

As the weeks have progressed into my third trimester, only Gurmukh's Kundalini yoga has survived as part of my practice, along with a little restorative here and there.  I take a lot of walks, swim and do water zumba and then practice the Kundalini Prenatal as much as I can.  It calms, restores and centers me and makes me feel so connected to my body and my baby. 

She always gets quiet when I do my practice, getting swished and rocked in that little hammock as I do cat/cow pose, squats, standing hip openers and chanting Sat Ta Na Ma.   This kind of yoga is really an extraordinary experience, one I am thankful to be able to experience all during pregnancy. 

I hope I can someday take a retreat or do a training with Gurmukh.  As fascinated I am with both Kundalini Yoga and Sikhism, I'm sure I would gain so much from it and her teachings.   Her book, Beautiful, Bountiful, Blissful has been really helpful too.  She aims to empower you to look at birth as a natural process, one your body knows in its cells how to handle, and most of all, as a spiritual experience, one that connects you with God.

I've been thinking a lot about the labor and delivery, visualizing how I'd like for it to go.  Of course, I know letting go of control or my "ideal" plan is necessary and that as soon as you make hard and fast plans, God likes to laugh.  But I also think intention, preparation and energy go a long way.  I just keep coming back to Buddhism and the principle of surrender.  I keep coming across the idea of letting your "self" just fall away and forget about you feeling the pain, but blend in with all the sensations. Instead of numbing or distracting myself from the pain, I aim to surrender into the middle of the sensations and let myself go as completely as I possibly can.  I'm sure it's easier said than done, but I really want to try as much as I can.

Something I love that Gurmukh says is, "The best book you can read about labor is written inside of you.  The more you read it, the more you will move powerfully into birth."  Since I've read about a gazillion books and still feel pretty terrified and unsure if I can handle it all, this notion really puts my mind at ease.

She also says the third eye center is where to focus because of the pituitary gland being connected to the production of oxytocin, which opens the uterus.  So, I may just have to wear a bindhi to remind myself of this.  Oh yes, I will be the crazy hippie in her bindi giving birth naturally.  And I'm perfectly okay with that.

It's getting so close.  Only 10 more weeks or so.  I hope this baby bakes as long as she can and then comes when she's ready to come.  I pray all goes well and naturally and without any obstacles.  I should definitely pack my Ganesh in my overnight bag!

"When you see God in all, then you're not afraid of anything.  This is true yoga, dwelling in infinity." - Gurmukh

21 Weeks and Vaginas

One of my favorite things about being pregnant is how so many people are nice to you.  They smile knowingly, open doors and engage you in conversation when normally you'd just pass each other as scowly strangers.  Suddenly, women you didn't know are talking to you about breastfeeding, labor stories and how to deal with colic.  One of the best things about this experience is how it brings strangers into a same, happy, miraculous space - discussing new life.

Now, not everyone is nice.  I am still amazed at the jerks who will let a door slam in my face or cut me off in line, even while seeing I'm obviously pregnant (no hiding it now unless sporting a tight basketball across your midsection seems normal).  Even though I want to kick them in the balls (they've always been men so far, I'm sorry to report) I try to remember Plato's creed, "Be kind to everyone as they are each engaged in their own personal battle."

I recently read the book, Soul Surfer by Bethany Hamilton.  She is the girl who was surfing in Kauai, where she lives with her family, and got attacked by a shark.  The shark took her whole arm off.  She went on to not only surf again, but to win competitions!  I was so moved by how grounded she was in her faith, her family, and her love of the ocean.  She handled the whole trauma with such dignity and adaptation, using the tragedy as a way to reach out and help people. 

She taught herself to surf one-armed (an incredible feat when I know how hard it is to learn to surf with all your able parts).  Her whole family lives by the tides and swells and their lives revolve around the ocean, the salt air and their love of God.  The whole story and book really inspired me.

Even though we don't live near the ocean, this little baby will be a water baby.  Since we live on a lake, she'll be taking swim lessons as soon as she can, learn to ski (oooh - little baby skies!) and spend a lot of time at the beach.  

Speaking of, after two psychics, the old "ring test," a multitude of dreams, and about 20 individuals, including restaurant cooks, faculty, family, and a few random strangers told me for sure this baby would be a boy, imagine my shock at our 20 week ultrasound when we saw she was indeed, a little girl!   I kept saying, "I don't see anything between his legs!'  And the ultrasound tech patiently smiled at me, waiting for me to get what that meant.  It only took a delayed few minutes, but I finally realized what this implied.  I am so psyched!  A daughter!   What a powerful gift.  Women are steel magnolias, soft and hard at the same time like the Grand Canyon.  We are Mary and Kali, creation and destruction, the mysterious and the mundane, we are an ocean of wisdom and whispered secrets.

It is still sinking in, but I keep falling deeper and deeper in love with this little being. It's amazing how primal, visceral and ancient being pregnant feels, yet simultaneously so metaphysical, spiritual and transcendent.  It feels as if I am co-creating a miracle with God, like God has sat down with me and rolled out the blueprints and I've said, "uh huh...yes...that looks great" and then we shook hands.   Experiencing being pregnant is very physical and tangible, but has turned into a very emotional and spiritual journey, not surprisingly.   At 21 weeks, I am over halfway through - it's going by so fast...

Preggasana!

And so a new chapter begins.  Hell, a whole new book!  And the book is called: "Wicked Awesome!" because after almost two years of hoping to get pregnant, I am humbly ecstatic to announce I am finally knocked up!  It wasn't the easiest journey, one that many days of yoga got me through, but it was truly worth the wait.

I conceived right around the time of the Yoga Trance Dance workshop I led.  In fact, if my calculations are correct, I'm pretty sure that on that night, brand new cells were dividing and that makes me thrilled to know that this new magic ball of energy was being formed and created amidst the sacred juiciness of such intense energy, dance, and spirit!   Ah, the power of Trance Dance! :)

Since finding out I was pregnant, yoga has continued to take on a deeper meaning for me.  Every pose, every breath, every chant now has taken on this new layer, sinking deeper beyond my own peace of mind and well being, but as a contribution to the growth and development of this new life.   During the first trimester, I was severely sick and my body revolted, quite literally all day every day ("morning" sickness is a laughably insulting underestimation of a misery that lasts all day, all night and even in your dreams). But, I forced myself, even at my sickest to roll out my mat and breathe, chant and do a little gentle stretching, even if just for 10 minutes. These 10 minutes each day were sometimes the only thing that gave me some sense of stability and strength.

Very gratefully, around 11 weeks or so, the severe nausea and sickness subsided (now replaced with all day long headaches :) and I started feeling more energy and more strength and was able to increase my yoga practice back to 30 - 45 minutes and sometimes an hour (on those rare overachiever days).

In my overzealousness, I ordered a billion prenatal DVDs, and only three of them I actually really enjoy and am doing on a regular basis - Summer Sanders' Prenatal Workout, Yoga Journal's Yoga for Pregnancy, and the very best - the one that I can't get enough of - Gurmukh's Prenatal Kundalini Yoga.  The latter is another one of Gurmukh's masterpieces - an hour long session that instantly makes you feel like you've transported to a peaceful, exotic retreat.  The session is full of challenging physical kundalini moves, but interwoven with spiritual lightness and soulful dialogue.  When you finish, you feel rejuvenated, alive, full of inner strength and completely connected to this little life inside of you.  I would love to meet her someday and do a retreat or training with her.  She's my Sikh version of Shiva Rea I think. :)

On some days, like today, I put on some Shiva Rea music, put my hands on my Buddha belly and just get my groove on.  The headaches make it hard to really get a full out Trance Dance in, but I usually manage to at least get my body moving and connect with this growing belly and all the changes that are happening within.

At 15 1/2 weeks, so much has happened already both outside and in and I still have a long way to go, but I'm taking each day as a gift, as a lesson and on top of it all, as a way to go even deeper into my yoga practice, in a way I never even thought possible. So far, it is an exciting, terrifying and exhilerating journey and I can't wait to see where it takes us!

Namaste (and Jai to the universe!)
Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!

Leading Yoga Trance Dance

Recently, I was given the opportunity to lead my first Yoga Trance Dance workshop!  I planned for weeks ahead of time, practicing vigorously, making a lesson plan to last two hours (the time frame the Yoga Studio wanted me to use), and making a corresponding soundtrack that would accompany my workshop to the note, each new song beginning at each new phase of elements.

At first, I was so nervous - more nervous than I get teaching my academic classes for some reason.  But, I was so excited too - so thrilled to share this joy with others - I feel like a born again with Trance Dance - it has truly awakened something in my life and in my yoga practice that is just indescribable.

We began with some introductions - I like to circle to get to know each other briefly since it's such a connective practice - and then I led them through about 15 minutes of meditation and energy work, followed by about 25 minutes of prana yoga - swaying of hips, flowing pigeon (I love that one!), rocking the spine like "calligraphy", the "jackson polluck" of hands like seaweed, painting the floor.  The music intensifies and soon we are deep in the "fire" element, twisting rhythmically to the rapid tribal beat, our breathing heavier and quicker, the heat rising within us.  Now we are doing kundalini yoga - repetitive movements to get that heat going and our energy soaring.  

Then, the drums get louder and the music shifts - we instinctively break off out of our spots, put away our mats and free form dance around the room.   We stomp our feet, lift our hands to the air, sway and swing our arms, turn and twist and curve in every direction - up and down, diagonally, to the earth, to the sky, in circles.  As I'm sure anyone teaching this class would be, I was worried, "What if they don't get into it?  What if they think I'm a crazy loon leaping around the room?"   But, there was no reason to worry.  Soon, they took the reigns and got into their own rhythms, their own stories, their own releases.  Some cried, some roared, some smiled and beamed.   But, we all danced.  We all danced and danced with the emotions, with the rhythm, with the drums, and with each other.    It was magic.

We brought the intensity to a climax with a repeated session of the kundalini "woodchopper" - a prana move of bring the arms overhead and then with a big exhale and "Ha!" pulling them down to the floor or between the legs.   We did this, roaring with each bend, bringing the energy down through our hands and fingertips and as the music stopped, we roared in the contrast of the silence, smiles and release all around. 

Bringing it back down to slow movement meditation and then chanting - Om Namah Shivaya, everyone sat and rocked with their energies and then we went into a very deep yoga nidra, relaxation, followed by breathing and sitting meditation.   I love this contrast after the intensity of the Kundalini Yoga and free form dance - the power of the roaring tribal intensity - and then the quiet silence of relaxation.  It is never more powerful or effective for me than after this particular style of yoga.

Afterwards, I received many smiles, hugs and several questions of "When can we do this again?"   I was over the moon.   This was not just a yoga class, but an experience in connection, in creative flow, one that I am so grateful I was able to learn from Shiva Rea, and now to be able to share with others as well.  

I can't wait to do it again!!!

The loss of our furry companions

Yoga teaches us, along with Buddhism, that death and life are interwoven.  That all things change and that, especially in Yogic philosophy, our atman, our eternal spirit will surpass all the impermanence of bodies and the world.

In the last couple of weeks, I’ve experienced a loss in a one-two punch fashion in the animal world.  My kittenish cat, Zane, passed away after 15 years of companionship.  Less than two weeks later, my matriarch cat, Persephone, breathed her last breath in my arms after being my devoted sidekick for 16 years. 

Though I knew with their old age and numerous vet visits, this was inevitable and both cats enjoyed long, fulfilled lives full of sunshine, treats, lots of love, and better health care than most people in the world get, it doesn’t make the grief any less severe.

Zane with Banjo, his sleeping buddy



With Zane, he came to a phase the last couple of days where his quality of life faded and I knew I was faced with the decision I didn’t want to make.  After watching my baby contort with seizures and meow in discomfort, I knew it was time.  As we got near the vet, his breathing slowed down to a minimum.  He became very calm and relaxed.  As the vet lay him on the table, he looked tired, but calm.  I kept saying, “Are we sure?”  But, I knew the answer.  Our Vet was 9 months pregnant, looking about to pop any second, and I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between her right hand, holding the small needle that would send Zane on to the next phase and her full, ripened belly, just on the brink of new birth and life.  Birth, life, death and rebirth – our cycle of samsara.

 

With Persy, the end was so different.  She was maintaining a good quality of life in the last few days despite her medical difficulties, but within just a few hours, her condition radically changed for the worse.  I had made a Vet appt to bring her in that morning, but she didn’t stay around that long.  And in some ways I was grateful for that.  A wise old gal, she went on her own terms, without a sterile room, flourescent lights or injections.   I had stayed up late into the night and spent the early hours of the morning with her, petting her, praying over her, holding her, telling her how much I loved her and what an amazing cat she had been.  She was fantastic, just the perfect cat, always so stoic, so calm, so behaved, so chill even right up until the end  She had always been a big girl her whole life (hence her nicknames of “tatanka” -  Lakota for buffalo, “fatty fatty two by four” and the simple, but fitting “Big Persy"). She was a survivor and a trooper.  But, now she was ready to go.

I held her in my arms and felt her breathing change to slow and intermitten gasps.  In her eyes, I could see whatever essence that was her was no longer there. Her eyes were glazed, cloudy and fixed.  Her lungs gasped in automatically, with no movement in the rest of her body.  I cried over her, praying and repeatedly asking, “Please take her in peace, don’t let her suffer.”  She exhaled another breath and a heavy quiet filled the room.  Everything became so quiet.  She was gone.

I immediately felt the tangible loss of her and the overwhelming grief flooded over me as I held her in arms.  Even though I knew it was coming, it still seemed to happen too fast.

For both cats, I had felt as long as they had quality of life and weren’t in pain, we would keep doing whatever we needed to do.  But, then that eventually ends and you’re either faced with a horrific decision or you watch them take their last breath.

Losing a pet as an adult is different than losing one as a child. Persy had been with me since the day I turned 18.   Zane since I was 19.  They’ve been through all facets of my adult life, witnesses to all the phases, boyfriends, moves, journeys, heartbreaks, celebrations, sorrows, life as I know it.  And now, they’re gone.

Is this why we have religion? To explain, “Where did they go?” Through the searing grief and loss and guilt, religion offers ritual and explanation in a time of irrational grief and overwhelming emotion.   Whether human or animal, loss is ripping, unexplained and mysterious.  I draw on my Buddhism – the impermanence of everything, the constant flux, the mindfulness and meaning of being in the moment.  I draw on my Yoga – that the atman, the spirit, will go on in some way, that energy is neither created nor destroyed.  I even tried not to feel completely cynical and dismissive when the vet offered a syrupy sugar promise of “cat heaven” where  Zane could “chase butterflies and mice.”  Something, as an indoor cat, he never did in life.

But, even through burying Zane under my favorite huge magic tree in the backyard and scattering Persy’s ashes throughout the flower garden, her favorite places to sit in the sunshine, I still do not feel satisfied with any answers. Nothing comforts.  Three years ago, when I lost my good (human) friend, Alex, I had felt the same way.  Where did she go?  Had I not just seen her a few days earlier when we watched The Color Purple together?  Where was that snarky, Sedaris-esque commentary now?  Was she in the wind, in the October nights when she died (what is it with October and death?), in the theatre where she had graced the stage continually?

And now, I wonder the same thing even about my precious kitties.  Where did these unique souls go?  The kitten who once pounced on patches of light, who “made biscuits” on each of the other animals, who let the dog pin him down in numerous wrestling moves as a fun game?  Where did the kitty with the softest belly in the world run to?   How about the matriarch who grunted instead of meowing, who took every new animal under her wing and bathed it mercilessly, who as a cat never once peed outside the litterbox (even until the end) yet had jumped up, squatted and peed square on a really, really bad guy (seeing even before I did how bad he was indeed), who lived with such dignity and died with it as well.

For both cats, as I held them during their last hours, I chanted repeatedly the chant I say everyday after my yoga practice:

Asato Mat Sam Gamaya

Tamaso Mat Jyotir Gamaya

Myritor Maamrhitab Gamaya

It translates as:

Lead us from the unreal (illusion) to the real (understanding)

Lead us from the darkness of ignorance to the light of wisdom

Lead us from our fear of death to ultimate knowledge of immortality and our infinite spirit.

Funny how you can say something repeatedly, without even thinking about it - as I had done many times throughout the years with this chant - it was just part of my practice.  Mostly I just liked the way it sounded - it's a beautiful chant.  Now, it took on a whole new meaning as I whispered it over my babies, whispered it with each breath they took in and out, whispered it for myself as much as for them.

Spirituality seems to come easy when things are well, when things feel balanced and right in the world.  But, death is a dirty bastard.  And no matter how much I practice, no matter how much I attempt to walk a spiritual path, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let go of anyone I love, whether it be animal or human, peacefully and easily.   No matter how much explanation, spiritual counsel, Buddhist notions of impermanence, Christian promises of heaven, and condolences, it just f-ing hurts.  It's unfair.  It makes me feel angry and helpless.  Accepting death doesn’t change any of that for me.

The dance continues though as life goes on…and in every moment I spend with my loved ones, both furry and human, I will try to be mindful, to give as much love as I can, to not waste a single minute. The Dalai Lama says that the one thing that unites us as humans is our suffering, loss and grief. If this kind of appreciation of life and unity among people is what death reminds us of, maybe there is a purpose to it after all.    I sure hope so…

I will miss you every single day.

Shiva Rea's Yoga Trance Dance - Part Four (Air)

"Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free." - Rumi (Sufi Poet)

Shiva had asked when we had lost our dance in our lives.  There have been plenty of times I've lost my dance or at least, forgot about it for a little while.  But, it has always come back, always pulsating back into my life.  Like yoga, it doesn't hold grudges when you've ignored or abandoned it.  It welcomes you back with open, vibrating, energetic arms.

Shiva asked who came for their "own joy" and who came to get teacher training.  Initially, I came purely just to experience trance dance in person.  However, once here, in this experience, it was all I could think about - teaching this kind of yoga.   This was the kind of yoga I wanted to teach. A fluid, flowing, dynamic yoga that calls women to let go, be at home in their bodies, connect with all of who they are, good and bad, pulsating and underlying - this is a powerful yoga indeed.  It just felt so natural, like it was coming into my life at the perfect time.

One of the complaints I've heard about Shiva's training is that you leave not really knowing what to teach because there's not a lot of structure.  The academic in me, who wants notes and detailed instructions understands this feeling, but I really believe Shiva does so much more for us as a teacher by giving us the experience of yoga.  She often says she doesn't "do" yoga, but "is" yoga.  It isn't something you do, it's something you are.  This weekend, by putting away the notebooks and workbooks and just dancing, just feeling, just moving, it connected me to so much about myself I had forgotten.  It connected me to emotions I had been pushing down deep inside (and boy, they erupted like a lovely, angry volcano).  More than anything, it connected me to a strength and empowerment I knew was underlying it all.

Trance Dance, as funny as it sounds, is more than meets the eye.  It's more than just yoga.  It's more than just dance.  It's energy work.  It's a mindset.  It's our daily groove.  It's a lifestyle.  It's our sadhana - our spiritual practice.

After our last morning's prana practice - a challenging, yet healing asana section in Shiva's distinctive vinyasa/prana style, I was absolutely exhausted.  I felt like a rag that had been rung out completely.  Physically, mentally, emotionally, I was just spent.  But, spiritually, I felt more energized and alive than I had ever felt.  I could barely put words together, I was so high on the way this weekend had transformed me.  Moreover, I was feeling more positive than ever about situations in my life that I had no control over, situations that had haunted me for a long time.  I had spent so much time feeling helpless, but now I was seeing it differently.

Hindus believe that chaos only exists in your perception of it, that everything is actually exactly as it's supposed to be, in order, in our divine world.  Everything else is just maya (illusion).  I can't control things in my life, others in my life, or their actions.  But, I can work each day to be the best person I can be and love unconditionally.  I can be mindful every single day to live my sadhana, to put out compassion, good works and love.  I'm not perfect and sometimes I may not be as good at this as others, but I will keep attempting it every single day.

Serendipitously, in reading some of Swami Kripalu's satsangs (talks), I came across the following gems:

"To love is to suffer.  One who cannot tolerate pain cannot travel the path of true love.  Love's practice is anything but sentimental."

"The first place to have compassion is not (on your yoga mat), but is with your family and loved ones."

"To remain open in love in difficult times is an experiment in love in and of itself."

"Spirituality is not merely within books or temples or churches, but is within our own homes."

"Those who want to plant the seed of love in their heart will have to nourish it with the water of patience.  Impatience can be the cause of the destruction of love.  If we are not patient with our loved ones, then how can they be patient with us?"

Thanks, yo. I am picking up what you're laying down, Swami Kripalu. You are one jive turkey. 

Shiva told us, "Don't ever lose your dance."  After this weekend, now, that it's a part of me again, I'm going to be mindful to keep dancing in all meanings of the word.  Every single day.

Question:  What does dance mean to you in your life?  What makes you dance?