Tag: meditation

On Teaching Yoga

Listening to the Bod

by ErinLeave a Comment on Listening to the Bod

I am teaching a ton lately. The main studio I teach from has a few teachers traveling or out for personal reasons so I picked up quite a few classes to help out. At 4:30pm yesterday, I was teaching my 3rd class of the day and found my body resisting any and all plans I had for class.

The only thing I made a note of that my body agreed would for sure be a part of class was a traditional flow through the 6 directions of the spine. (Which a human should do daily for optimal health, so not a lot of room for debate there, anyhow..)

When I teach yoga, I am continually relaying invitations to my students’ practices based on what I am noticing in my own body. I call it cueing “acute yoga” – sharing felt sensations – moving awareness around and inviting breath to coordinate with one’s inner gaze.

The yoga I teach is a direct reflection of my personal practice so if I don’t do it? I don’t teach it.

As the class of 5 settled in, I shared with them about how much I have been teaching and – as such – have noticed the increase of dedicated time tuning into my bod has me in more fluid communication with my body. They chuckled when I shared the very true story about how, when eating a caprese salad before meeting my daughter (knowing I would take her out for a burger) my body said, “thank you – I really like this.”

“You’re welcome.” I replied :)

I mentioned earlier I don’t teach what I don’t do so, I thought in this inaugural journal On Teaching Yoga, I would share some foundational parts of my yoga & belief system.

1) I see the body as the first gift given in this life making it miraculous, spiritual, communicative

2) I pay attention to inner voice and inner dialogue and talk back, using breath & inner gaze as buffers between thoughts

3) I notice what I feel in my belly / chest / etc related to the thoughts I have and when images come to mind

4) I practice revolving consciousness and ascending breath as meditation 3 – 5 times weekly

It has been almost a year that I have been back in the studio after a COVID induced hiatus, teaching from my personal practice which has evolved immensely from when I graduated YTT in 2016.

Not only do I LOVE teaching yoga more than I ever have before, but that the way I am teaching these days has me talking more about the practice before and after class with others. AND I LOVE THIS EVEN MORE THAN TEACHING YOGA! :)

I am hearing from students on how the tone of the teacher’s voice and the presence of self displayed by the instructor impacts the practice.

I am learning how invitations to notice felt sensation ushers in a deeper flavor of being human.

I am learning about when they feel connected or disconnected from their bodies.

And in the studio – I am noticing how truly humbling it is to watch bodies move when I teach because they are teaching me. It’s so freaking cool.

In all of this, I am paying attention, big time, to how it all comes together because of that #1 foundational part of my yoga: the body is a miraculous communicative device. The body is so amazing: every cell, every memory.

There is a scripture I love love love love love (1 Corinthians 2:11) that emphasizes how nobody can know us – our body – our experience better than we know it and, likewise, we cannot know our body and our experience better than the Spirit of God.

When you look at what neuroscience tells us about how the left brain only ever registers roughly 4% max of the body’s sensory experience in a given moment, that scripture makes more sense than ever. Think about it. I sure am.

There are at least a half of a dozen other things I could say right now but I think I’ll wrap it up as listening to the body is a big huge wide topic and I am so curious where people are with this.

What do you guys think? What is the last thing your body said to you other than “I’m tired!” or “I’m hungry!” ???

This is totally a favorite thing for me to talk about!! I would love to know :)

PS – anybody have a trustworthy resource on somatic spirituality?

Words in Sentences

This One Night in California.

by ErinLeave a Comment on This One Night in California.

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Last week, I left my little annex apartment in a South Californian valley town at dusk with a blanket and a hoodie, a flashlight and my iPhone. I hiked to a clearing in front of the garden and spread out to watch the end of the sunset.

I had gone inside to prepare some dinner right when it started, but the amber behind the dark scale of the hillside would not leave my mind and I had to go see it some more.

The moon!

Of course I was nudged and so convinced to go back out! Somewhere in me knew I didn’t want me to miss the moon.

(I feel I could paint this sunset into a picture because of how it felt.

I have never been a painter… this is new.)

Then, I noticed a star. And then another star. And then another star.

Star. Star.

Star. Star. Star.

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And I didn’t leave. Hungry as I was, I laid there watching every star come out as the sun made it’s final tuck low past the horizon, dunked behind the ocean that was on the other side of my sight.

Never in my life have I watched all the stars come out. Every time I thought of my dinner, I still stayed. So patiently.

I was mesmerized – absolutely mesmerized and entertained.

And still. I was STILL.

Some constellations I knew, but I had this deep sense of desire that my mind would just open and I could understand the stars, see all the patterns, know the stories. A language I knew in my bones but wanted words. I felt this sensation rise to the top of my brain. But I didn’t pull out a constellation map, I didn’t Google anything. I just looked and was open, calm.

Needless to say, I slept well that night.

The process of staying still when your mind thinks of the next things to do is a very important part of yoga; a very important part of life. Guiding the self in a manner which is still – not busy – I have found offers deeper release of tension in the physical body.

Now that I am back home, I am committed to maintaining this posture of freedom and calm.  By finding something to engage me that requires me to do nothing but sit and look. I think it is easy to want to develop thought in these moments. To think you can understand something about yourself in these moments. Or receive revelation. Truly, I think it is likely that you can make connections and evolve through a practice like this.

However, emptying the mind and clearing the thought – these are the things of value in stillness. This is an established theme in my life and that I am taking to all my practice – as a student and as a teacher.

Have a great holiday weekend :) Find something to stare at and settle into … erin

Words in Sentences

Swimming in the Dark

by ErinLeave a Comment on Swimming in the Dark

This is a picture of Ellen coming up (or going down) earlier this summer. I thought of it for this post because it's it - it's the place.
This is a picture of Ellen coming up (or going down) earlier this summer. I thought of it for this post because it’s it – it’s the place I describe in this writing..

There is a sink full of warm water and mostly clean dishes in my kitchen. I was washing those same dishes last night when I took a phone call (my older sister Emily calling me back) – talked for an hour – then went off to do a bit of reading before falling asleep. The dishes sat overnight and were added to by breakfast. It wasn’t long into re-washing the dishes that I felt compelled to capture a moment for which I am quite grateful. Sitting down to write this post, I’m looking at washing these dishes for the 3rd time tomorrow.

Mid-week this week I found myself fessing up my honest take on some situations to two of my confidants. In allowing myself to be brutally honest, I realized just how critical I had become. Even though I wasn’t always expressing this sentiment, it was in me. I was humbled by what I looked like: going on and on about how inefficiently people communicate. All of these situations were truly opportunities to show compassion. And truly in all of this, there was a distinct opportunity to show myself that same compassion. I was reminded of a poem by Fleur Adcock (check it: here) and really took a minute to breathe and allow myself to be how I am. I have a bad habit of comparing what I like and find entertaining or noteworthy with what others may like and find entertaining or noteworthy. It felt good to experience some complete whole breaths of self compassion. And thus lay off everybody else who is just being who they are.. interesting concept, right? (I’m laughing – because of how sure I am I have solved this puzzle before and how certain I am I will need to solve it again.)

Thing is – I came across something tonight that I haven’t had before (though I swear I have but I can’t remember) for which I am grateful. Really really grateful. It was like being given a key.

I took my daughters up to the pool at about 4:45pm. For about 2 hours, I did what’s typical: socialized with other moms, read (here’s what I’m currently on my 6th attempt to read..) and answered my children’s inquiry “when are you getting in” with all sorts of creative milestones “when I get to page 93” – “when my heart is ready” – and (most commonly used) “when I  get hot”.

Around 7:30, when Ellen got out and said she was bored, I pulled out a deck of cards. After a couple of rounds of Go Fish and Rummy, the night sky had completely fallen. The pool lights were on and making the water dazzle like only a summer time pool can on either a humid August night or one of those magical mid vacation nights when you know longer know the date. We both started joking about jumping in with our clothes on and before long, in one quick movement, I dove in and began a completely different experience.

Swimming in the dark with the world lit up below us, I started to feel something really super familiar. I had flashes of feelings from my past but without images or stories.

I felt lucky. I felt really loved. I felt a sense of simplicity. I felt I could go on forever. These feelings were fleeting, but over and over while jumping around and playing nonsense games, I would get them. Flash. flash. flash.

I started out on a lap to the deep end of the pool where I planned to go over to the ladder and climb out to meet my towel. The flashes continued. Without thinking, I found myself stopping at some point in the deep end, keeping my eyes closed, plunging down under the water and letting my knees hit a bend after my feet hit the floor. Pausing. Exhaling. Then coming up for one breath, keeping my eyes closed and going down again. In recalling this, my motions continued as if on auto-pilot.

Over and over again without opening my eyes, I felt this incredible feeling of nothing. I wasn’t an adult but I wasn’t a child. I was only myself. I had no age. Just the feeling of warm water over my whole body then stillness. A part of my inside was laughing at the joy and the freedom. The secret of buoyancy and its power to let you leave the demands of the every day physical reality in which we live. For a parallel, it was nothing like driving: where you’re behind a machine and watching lights, cars, and trying not to text.

My mind started getting busy trying to grab words to describe how happy I was in this and sure enough I lost it. But now I know I have this spot – now I know that there is a familiarity in water that takes me to my inner most place where I am not even “Erin” but I am my soul. My non-critical, very curious, full of wonder, and quite generous soul.

It’s just draped in lightly freckled skin with eyes that are (at the moment) pretty tired and in a body that has dishes to do.