Month: April 2016

When the Yoga Works

I have been practicing yoga for sometime but have really prescribed to it over the past few years and more so lately because I am a yoga teacher! So I really have to live up to the yoga hype right? Actually, I don’t have to live up to the “yoga teacher” hype but it does help me to be more aware of yoga practices, how to live more yogiclly, and to practice what I preach (which is so much easier said than done!). My biggest challenge in the realm of yoga and recovery life is that of being meditative.

Meditation is not what most people think, thinking of nothing. Meditation is developing a mindful attention to one thing at a time and giving all your energy and focus on that one thing. My meditation practice isn’t sitting there in lotus with my malas smelling lavender essential oil and chanting Ohm. In fact, my meditation is practice is anytime I can just be still and focus on one thing, usually it is a chore/task/yoga pose. My meditation practice has stepped up since yoga teacher training, before then it was non-existent. In my teacher training we were required to establish a meditation practice and journal it. I went from zero minutes all the way to seven minutes in the course of eight months. I went from manic monkey mind to just monkey mind. I went from unmindful and hustle bustle to a more mindful hustle and bustle. Sometimes I never really notice how far I have come until someone points it out or I am in a situation where normally I’d be a walking ball of stress and anxiety and I am surprisingly clam. Like a magically fountain spring in the holler calm. Nothing showed me this more than my recent trip to the allergist.

I went to the allergist to get my food allergy panel retested because it’s been a while and it needed a check up. If you haven’t experienced an allergy than you a lucky duck. Allergy panels suck. You  lay on your belly and they prick your skin. If that isn’t bad enough they begin to fill the little pricks with possible allergens. Right as those allergens hit the pricks your skin goes on fire if an allergen is present. Then you have to lay there for fifteen to twenty minutes. No music, no TV, no human interaction. Just you and the burning, itching, kerosene soaked fueled fire, that is on your back. You can’t scratch it. You can’t move. All you can do is lay there and breathe. Breathe. All I did was breathe. I practiced my breath counting exercise (my favorite pranayama, count inhales and make the exhales the same length). 1,2,3,4,5,6, in and out 1,2,3,4,5,6. I began to feel the groundedness of laying on my belly. I began to close the eyes and imagine my breath filling up my body, just like I tell my students. I kept counting. 1,2,3,4,5,6, in and  out 1,2,3,4,5,6. When my mind would wonder or think of something else I would acknowledge it and go back to counting. 1,2,3,4,5,6, in and out 1,2,3,4,5,6. I didn’t feel my back burn. I didn’t feel the itching. I lost track of time. I almost feel asleep (but that could’ve been because it was 8 am). Before I knew it the alarm went off and it was over. They counted my results and we discussed my test. After I left the allergist office I realized that yoga works. I was in a situation where I normally am unhappy, irritated, and dread. But I didn’t really notice much of anything. I barely felt any itching. I just accepted the moment.

Yoga works when you want it to. All you have to do is surrender to it and just do it! Just do yoga. Breathe in. Breathe out. 1,2,3,4,5,6.

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#TBT-poetry style part 3!

While I love writing about recovery, exercise science, yoga, and all things about making life new, I like to throw in a few fun things. I have done music play lists, dance, and the occasional look into my young, tortured, poetic self. I have enjoyed the later so much I am doing it again! I am always inspired to share my old, angsty, wannabe emo writer self, because they do remind me of my good times/bad times/crazy times, and just what it was like to be sixteen again. Who doesn’t want that? ;). Honestly, a part of me to hopes that they still speak for those who have these feelings but can’t find the words themselves. Isn’t that the main purpose of writing? For my previous two poetry throwbacks, click here and here!

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*Intimate, a tritina

Silver moonlight hits your eyes,

The pools of blue tell me that your mine.

And no one else’s, please, hold my hand.

 

There’s nothing more I love than the touch of your hand. Maybe,

Seeing myself, the light reflected in those eyes.

That I love so dear. Can you really be mine?

 

Nothing has been mine.

Ever. You are my first, never let go of my  hand.

I’m all yours, your all I need. Look in my eyes.

 

You are as precious to me as the gleam in your eyes and the locket in my hand that is not only mine, but yours.

*Pink Floyd Mash-Up (a mash up is a blend of one thing, these are all Pink Floyd songs)

Our weary eyes stray to the horizon as promises light up the night like paper does in flight. Then I think of all the good things that we have left undone…

Oooh babe don’t leave me now. Remember the flowers I sent? I need you babe.

What do you want from me? Should I sing until I can’t sing anymore?

Oooh babe don’t leave me now.  Remember the flowers I sent? I need you babe.

I’m not the one you need. And I gotta admit that I’m a little confused by that. Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun? Or the time I woke to the sound of drums, the music played. The morning sun streamed in, I turned and looked at you; and you had that certain look in your eye and an easy smile. Shine on you crazy diamond…

Oooh babe don’t leave me now. Remember the flowers I sent? I need you babe.

God only knows it’s not what we would chose to do, well, what I would choose to do. But sell your soul for complete control, money is the bond between the hopeful and the damned. And honey, you fit right it. Just remember, for long you live and high you fly and smiles you’ll give and tears you’ll cry, I won’t be here.

Make your name like a ghost, hide your wings in a ghost tower and stay within the shadows. And get out of the road if you want to die old.

*Metaphoric Words

My words are powerful.

My words are like arrows that hit you right in the heart.

My words are like butterflies that gently float across a page.

My words are like a fleet of ships getting ready to set sail.

My words are atomic.

My words pierce your soul.

My words are restless waves washing against the sand.

My words leap from my heart as a frog would leap from lily pad to lily pad.

My words can make you cry.

My words can make you smile.

*Everything I’m Not

I could sing of the body electric. I could weave daisies in my hair. I could be the girl of your dreams…

I could walk the straight and narrow. I could dance on through the night. I could be just another number on your list…

I could paint a picture with your hands. I could light your fire. I could be the one…

I could tell you otherwise. I could play this game of love. I could be just another dumb girl..

But, I’m not.

*The Calling

I’m on this road, long and winding,

Speeding, reckless, driving on my way to you.

I have to close this gap between us,

It is way too long.

I couldn’t stand an hour, I can’t stand five.

I’m gonna make you come back with me this time.

 

Music playing on the radio,

Making this strong woman weep.

Avett Brothers seeping through the stereo,

Their bluegrass instruments play my heart.

Every lyric is the story of your life,

From shame to all my mistakes to the smoke in our lights.

 

I was foolish to let you go.

But you didn’t help the cause.

Absence does make the heart grow fonder boy,

I had you on my mind day and night till I called you.

One night stands and countless rendezvous didn’t ease my pain,

I still saw your face.

No one was good enough, no one was like you.

 

My car can’t go fast enough, it wont’ go past 80.

And on these mountain roads that’s too fast,

But not fast enough for me.

My heart goes faster than my car can fly,

My heart is the speed of light,

My heart is the speed of sound.

Can’t you hear my calling, “I’m coming for you hun. I won’t rest till you are mine again.”

 

I’m calling your name,

I’m calling,

“I’m coming for you hun. I won’t rest till you are mine again.”

I’m calling your name,

I’m calling,

“I’m coming for you hun. I won’t rest till you are mine again.”

 

Never thought I was capable of love,

I shuddered wen you wrote me that in an email, laughing it off.

Then realizing, I loved you too.

Baby, honey, my better half.

No one gets me like you,

I should’ve never let you go my darling…

 

I finally  made it to your door.

And I’m calling,

I’m calling your name,

I’m calling,

“I’m here hun. I love you. Yes, I love…”

 

~~~

And of course  no Throwback Thursday is complete without pictures!