The most important part of this lesson is that you know I speak only from an equal place of experience. I’m 35, almost 36. I have kids. I have been married. I have had an emotional affair. I have experienced debt, grief, fear, pain. And I have experienced healing, freedom, peacefulness and truth. So…
I’d say it all balances out.
I say this idea of me speaking from this place of equanimity is important because it is important that you know when reading this that YOU are YOUR OWN TEACHER. You have a voice that guides. You have a voice that reasons. And you have a pretty vested interest in where YOU are going. So. Listen to that.
Allow me to simply – give you things to take in. And, do so with some sincerity. Which – from all that I can tell – you are here because you are, in fact, sincere.
The Yamas.
5 components of the first limb of yoga. (Of which there are 8. Yamas and Niyamas kicking it off, with focus on breath, movement / posture, then meditation … samadhi.)
Oh. Did I mention I am PUMPED to teach yoga philosophy?
The first Yama is Ahimsa.
Non Violence.
A place a bird can rest peacefully.
An equal feeling. A sense of compassion.
A deep sense of balance – even if, at times, you are rocky.
Ahimsa is what you sit and are when you sit and release.
Ahimsa creates peace. Ahimsa cares for the self. Ahimsa rests, receives, and has a strong sense of self.
Which — this strong sense of self —
allows healthy boundaries be set up,
not out of fear (for fear, it is believed, causes the imbalances which lead to violent outbursts, impatience, and hurtful words)
but out of love.
Bottom line: Pray love into your life on a consistent basis.
From there – you have the following.
Satya – truth – which is the best friend of love.
Asteya – the belief that you are able to take and so you should be aware and be mindful to “leave”. Leave places in peace, leave things in tact, leave things better than when you came, leave people their space, leave children their imaginations, leave every single person in the world their right to peace and love and happiness.
Bramacharya – what you practice when you hydrate, have sex that fuels instead of drains, keeping your private life private, honoring the lives of others in a way that does not, and refuses to, predict the worst. Subscribing to your own best ideas.
Lastly.
Aprigraha. Which.
Four years ago, my marriage was falling apart. My neighbor, Laurie Solet, asked me if I wanted to go to a 6 week series on the different asana families (backbends, inversions, etc) at a nearby yoga studio.
I ended up taking the series twice in a row.
I still have my notebook from that time in my life. I was hurting. I was processing. I was excited. I was confused. I was worried. Many times, as I sat with a blanket around me in class – working to meditate – to name the thoughts and excuse them so I could concentrate and be present – I would cry. Out of one eye.
When I cry in yoga, it is out of one eye and one eye only.
I met Jee Moon during that series. She was my teacher. I remember her focusing in on me during a lab on cobra. Cobra is a little back bend you make while laying on your stomach. As she worked with me – encouraging me – urging me deeper – arching my back and dropping my head behind me – she said, “Oh my God, Erin. Can you bend your knees??”
I could.
I did.
And I saw my feet.
“Strong back” She said.
Months later, I was talking with my Grandma Lavona about her Chinese Zodiac sign: an Ox. This after making friends with a fellow yogi friend who worked at Enterprise and who introduced me to this. My Grandma’s sense on being an Ox was simple: she has “always had a strong back” – been a hard worker.
Understanding your body is insight to your heritage.
After I moved out of the shared house, I met with Cathleen Williams – owner of Urban Breath Studio – to inquire about work trade. I was re-establishing my life and we worked out an agreement that I would clean the Dogtown studio in exchange for membership.
I would go in at midnight, fold all the blankets – set the props – clean the floor with hot water and white vinegar – and sing. I would clean the toilet, refill the soap, take out the trash, wipe off the incense, refill the water – and think: this is where I am.
I made good use of those nights working trade by going to yoga 4, 5, 6 times a week. Never missing Jee’s Tuesday night yin classes. One time, after a particularly emotional practice, Jee said to me as I left the studio, “You did well”. In a way that was less, “good job” and more “I see you”. It meant so much to me and still does.
This is yoga.
Fast Forward four years and I am a graduate of 200 hour Yoga Teacher Training from Urban Breath. I have learned, in reflecting over this time, I am so grateful for my yoga teachers for taking great care that I became my own resource; that I did not grow dependent on them. This is what we, as yoga teachers, aim to teach: to listen to yourself and trust.
My commitment to teaching is to give the space for others to hear themselves. Know their ego’s voice – who wants to be safe. Know their aversion’s voice – who wants to be included. Know their attachment’s voice – who wants to control and predict. Know their ignorance – who wants to be awakened. And know their fear – who wants to be indestructible. By knowing these voices – knowing the thoughts that associate with these feelings – one can learn to self guide. Through concentration, through awareness of breath, through a physical practice – one can learn that they are spiritual, sound, and secure.
Your body is your spirit’s nest.
I am so grateful for the support I have in my life. I am grateful for Laurie Solet, who was a doorway. I remember standing in between our houses in January, so stringently wounded from pending divorce, and her giving me a massive pep talk before going back inside and how much love was in it. How much encouragement was in it. That spirit is a part of my practice and a part of my teaching.
I am thankful for my yoga soul mate who is on their way to my house right now. Who was alongside of me as I processed and awakened during a concrete and critical part of my life.
I am thankful for Jee Moon for her steadiness and ability to bring me brilliantly into a new perspective. For teaching me the diligence of skill and to respect silence.
Cathleen Williams on left, Stacy Broussard on right
I am thankful for Cathleen Williams, for her ministry to Saint Louis by way of Urban Breath – so that people can heal and then learn to teach. Namaste.
I am thankful for Laurie Brockhaus, for her graceful physical practice that is compelling and as figurative as it is literal. For her ability to see the whole room.
I am thankful for Stacy Broussard, for her knowledge on how you can meet people where they are and offer approach to each individual so that yoga is accessible.
I am thankful for Madeleine Webb, for her spiritual depth and confidence that has reminded me over and over how a boldness of spirit is good for the world.
I am thankful for Beth Barr, for the logo for Yoga Underground, for giving me a space to teach all summer, for her encouragement and humor. You have been a sincere sister.
I am thankful for Christie Brinkman, for your constant support and pointed love. For your ability to remind me of the basics and your belief in the things I dream about.
From left to right: Cheri Massa, Julie Johnson, Christie Brinkman
I am thankful for Cheri Massa, for your beyond intuitive maternal role in my life. For our early morning week day phone calls and for the fact that there are so many things about me that you just get.
I am thankful for Milta Little, for my Milta plant which I am moving back down into the basement tomorrow as I resume practice in my banged up studio complete with a prayer written all over my soon to be repaired floor. For your dialogue with God for me. Now.. on to CS Lewis!!
I am thankful for Julie Johnson, you are the champion of women – endless thank you’s for what you do for people trying to make a difference in our city.
I am thankful for Andie Carter, for being my refuge after Tuesday night yin and giving me a place to continue stretching in her kitchen. I miss you.
I am thankful for the Gathering United Methodist Church for giving me a place to begin my ministry.
I am thankful for my students. For trusting me with your time and allowing me the opportunity to learn from our interactions. I look forward to many many more classes. If you aren’t already a part of Yoga Underground’s Class Newsletter – sign up here.
There are many more people who love me and encourage me in endless ways. Those named here have been a big part of my yoga journey. And I want to honor that particularly as my heart is so very full right now.
As I wrap this up, I just have to acknowledge that one of the biggest learnings I have from recent months is that quantity does not matter. I am not out for full classes and a full bank account. I am out to connect with you, or your friend, or your mother, or your cousin. I am out to facilitate space for you and your mind, heart, and soul. I am out to give you a way to see your strength. I am out to give you a consistent mirror for you to see your growth.
Lucy and I were praying for a dear friend one night in August. I had led the prayer the night before so, on that particular evening – all tucked in bed, Lucy led us. Hands clasped, eyes open.
As she sweetly tumbled through her prayer, hitting strides of addressing this friend’s pain, she firmly requested, “…and God, please, just send her all of her might.”
This stuck with me.
“Send her all of her might.”
When I think of “might”, strength – power – brute force, I typically associate it with a universal power source. As in, “God, send me strength”.
As such, I think of it as strength from outside of me, strength that is not my own, strength not readily available to me.
Strength I need.
So, when Lucy revolutionized my understanding of might, it was because she was asking God to make it so that our friend had all of her might. As if she has a bank of might available to her that she can access.
It made me think, “What if I, through relationship with the supernatural, through my awareness with the physical body and its ability to be stunningly miraculous, can access reserves of my own might as divinely given to me from birth?”
At first this seemed to be a cute idea but not really practical or not really as elegant of a model for how we may consider petitioning for strength. I thought of how the model looks in real life. For example, I know I often request the gifts of other people that, in some way or another, I have within myself.
I do not do this in a lazy way or from an insecure place, however. I see that a friend is obviously artistic or a friend is obviously wise and so I solicit their technique and advice. But do I know that I equally can attempt the art? Search the heart? Yes. I do.
(Especially with the right Sharpie style marker.)
Though I firmly believe there is power in believing in a strength bigger than what resides within us, what if we first requested all of our own strength, our birthright might, be present and accounted for before we ask specifically for the divine’s?
And – before anybody cringes at the idea of doing something on our own and “what about Jesus” or whatever – just hang tight for a moment and realize that in doing such a thing, we actually are asking for the God’s strength *with specific awareness* that our strength and our helpcomes from the Lord to begin with? (Psalm 121:2)
What if in requesting all of our strength be present, we started to understand that our intricate design as individuals has a power source into the great connected universe? Charged by God’s right hand?
What if, in prayer, we began to understand internal cruxes that block and cross our wires? So that we can untangle and calm the mind stuff?
What if, in pursuit of our might being full, we learn things about ourselves that have been preventing us from operating on a full tank of strength?
What if we can come into a next iteration of our life by understanding the personal strength that lies in our own emotional fortitude, in our physical temple?
I mean, really. I believe we need to be careful to not praying for God’s strength over and over and over while remaining unaware of the personally designed, tailor made strength and skill set we were given to not only survive, but to make a difference in this life… to step into our purpose out of our pain.
<Deep breath.>
I believe the look of “boldly approaching the throne” when life is at its hardest changes when we do our part to cultivate the might and open-heartedness available to harness in this physical life. Lock that root in and draw that energy up.
There will be times we need increased strength for our weary bones and power to our spirits. (“Even the youth grow weary” Isaiah 40:30)
When we take a personal step to align with the divine strength in the body and energy body to begin with, and – from that place, petition the divine to reinforce, supplement and support, I believe we can come into a new level of hope, soaring on wings like eagles, running and not growing tired, and walking and not being faint. (Isaiah 40:31)
Frozen Spaghetti 