JOY
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Yoga Blog
Welcome!
Until I start a real blogspot and link it to this website, I will use this page as a way to communicate my current thoughts. Topics of interest: yoga, energy, following your bliss and following your weirdness... creativity, balance, and other hopeful thoughts for peace and happiness.
"Yoga is a way of moving into stillness in order to experience the truth of who you are."- Erich Schiffmann
May 30, 2008
Topic: my new blog spot!
I just put my first post on my new blog spot. If you care to follow me there, it's at www.wandacollinsjohnson.blogspot.com
Thanks for the loyal readership all these months. I intend to keep going as a blogger and this time, with this new blog, you can leave comments, if you wish. I hope to see you there.
Namaste,
Wanda
May 11, 2008
Topic: my yoga practice—opening to Love’s dare 
This is another painting that welled up from my subconscious in 2004, so mysteriously—full of emotion and strangely prescient. It was as if my subconscious knew what was about to erupt in my life—such a beautiful, terrible time...years of personal revelation brought on by many sorrows and one or two profound joys. No regrets. No, it was simply what happens when we open ourselves. This watercolor's poses are very yoga-like…even though it would be a year before I started taking yoga lessons. Now that I’ve been studying yoga, I want to paint these mystical lovers again and again, with subtle shifts of the poses.
My yoga practice, like my art, is opening me to love’s dare… the desire, the necessity, the inevitable task of surrendering to mystery. Surrender does not mean giving up; it means giving in, releasing your fears, allowing something greater to fill your cup to overflowing. My daily practice is a challenge because it requires an initial burst of will power to do it. But if I can get started, the rewards are great…so worth it.
And now it is time for a brief announcement—next week (or the week after that…depending on how diligent I am about getting it done) I will begin my new blog spot. It will be a “normal” blog which allows you to comment after an entry. I’ll put the link here on my Yoga Blog so that you can follow me there. Also, I’ll leave my old blog entries up so you can revisit them anytime you like.
Thank you for tuning in! Peace and happiness... and always, namaste...
 May 7, 2008
Topic: Warrior Protector, the male spirit
Here is a thumbnail of a painting that I happen to love, even though I’m the one who did it. I can’t take total credit for it because it came to me from deep within, welling up from my subconscious. And so, even though it is 100% mine, copyrighted by me, and I am the only one who understands every brushstroke—it feels like something given to me, like a gift. I love the protector spirit hovering over the sleeping female form. He is hers, a part of her soul, and she is his. He protects her as she sleeps. She dreams of only him. There is deep serenity in their togetherness. And I imagine that when he sleeps, she is also there for him, but I haven’t painted that picture (yet).
In yoga, we discuss balancing our male and female aspects. It is a subject that I often paint, write about, and dream of…sometimes especially sweet dreams. To know and embrace the “other” is what we do as human beings. Like many females, I sometimes despair of ever understanding men… a topic of endless fascination—one that I find quite mystical as well as mystifying. 
As promised, the boys get equal time after my princess blog from two weeks ago. Here are photos of one of the fabulous males in my life—my son, when he was 4 years old. As a little boy, he imagined his Warrior within. You can see him with his sword and shield (a pan lid) wearing his cape (a towel) and vanquishing the monsters (his dinosaur collection). As you can see below, he was also quite a Ninja Turtle Karate Kid kind of guy. Later, at age 12, he got his black belt in Tae Kwon Do and truly became a force to be reckoned with. He’s a strong person, inwardly and outwardly.
And now, here is my wish for all male spirits everywhere—may you always protect the ones you love, with wisdom and compassion. I honor the light within you. Namaste.
April 21, 2008
Topic: princesses and other archetypes
Warning: this blog entry has nothing to do with yoga. As you can tell, I am still looking through new and old photographs. There is so much information in a picture.  Here is my goddaughter, joyful and cute in her pink cowboy boots. Last weekend, she turned 4. Her birthday party was overflowing with Princesses dressed in glittering pink and purple dresses. I felt honored to be in such royal company. At age 4, the Princess is a strong image of a special girl, a lively girl…like beautiful Zae and her pretty friends. Princess is nothing less than a universal archetype…and good for developing self-esteem, I’m sure.
There is a Caroline Myss book, Sacred Contracts, which discusses archetypes. It’s a great aid for coming to grips with life because it helps you to see underlying patterns in your psyche and your behavior. According to Myss, we all have a few inescapable archetypes in our personal character. To me, these archetypes are helpful visual aids in the quest to Know Thyself. With a bit of introspection, you can identify your own archetypes. These are roles such as Poet, Rebel, Pioneer, Judge, Hermit, Hedonist, Clown, Bully, Engineer, Storyteller, Artist, Knight, and yes…Princess. 
I love this photo of my daughter in her diamond tiara, concentrating on her queenly task, wielding her crayon like a wand poised above her coloring book. At age 5, she is totally focused on her book and the task at hand—a foreshadowing of the many years ahead when she would focus on her studying. In this picture, three of her archetypes are plainly visible—Queen (she outgrew Princess rather quickly), Artist, and Scholar.
Next week, I’ll give the boys equal time. But I had to start with my princesses!
April 14, 2008
As a seven-year-old girl—a girl who wore her hair in a ponytail, did acrobatics and ballet, read Dr. Seuss, wrote her own poems—I heard an inner voice distinctly speak to me. This voice said that I would be a writer. Even back then, that seemed a lofty goal to me... and yes, I am still aspiring to my childhood dreams, but that seems to be the nature of life. Or, as my new friend Yahia says, you must create the masterpiece you are entrusted with: yourself. Please visit my new Guest Poet page and read my interview with Yahia Lababidi, an insightful poet and delightful person.
Enjoy!
Wanda
P.S. And, in case you wonder, I can still do the splits. Due to yoga, I recently discovered that my body will allow me to do so, as long as I warm up my muscles with lots of stretches prior to the attempt. ; )
April 9, 2008
Topic: remorseless self-revelation
“All writing, whether it is autobiographical or not, is remorselessly self-revelatory in the same way that dreams are.” (A quote from Sloan Wilson in the latest issue of The Writer magazine).
Like a dream, a story can reflect a storyteller’s inner nature, intentionally or not. Some writers actually cry, sweat, or shout as they write a scene. I agree with Sloan Wilson—it is the fear of raw emotion…the fear of self-revelation…that silences most would-be writers.
Last summer, after I finished Yoga Teacher Training, I noticed that some of my previous paintings of the human body no longer said what I wanted them to say…as if I’d learned a new language as I deepened my yoga practice. Now I am repainting a few, to better reflect my new knowledge and make the bodies dance the way I now feel them dancing inside of me. Similarly, with my writing, all my characters opened up and became more real and more honest…more natural in the way that they “dance” and more aligned with my self-revelations. Without remorse, I am painting and writing the truth about how I feel inside. It comes to me…and through me… in the same way as a dream arises—from deep inside my heart, hidden and unknown until the moment that it surfaces.
In the spirit of self-revelation, I am going to use the next few blogs to post pictures and quotes that say something to me (and hopefully to you, too). For today, here is one of the rare photos of me as a baby—at age 1…rather bald, skinny, defiant, perhaps a bit pensive, and looking like an urchin from Appalachia. Which, I suppose, I was.
Until we meet again…why don’t you take a look at your own baby pictures and see what you can see? Are you still able to recognize the child within?
April 3, 2008
Topic: a tour of my studio
 Here is my studio, as is, with my usual messiness in evidence, so don't look too closely. My fuzzy purple yoga mat stays in the center of the room.
The balcony doors are great for northern light—the best kind for doing art because it is constant all day long. I have one easel for oils and a table for doing watercolors, which have to be done flat. Sometimes, I use the floor. Bending from the waist to do a painting is a weird position but yoga keeps my hamstrings loose. To do JOY, the painting of 2 women dancing, I stood and bent forward to paint on the floor using  a wide 2-inch brush...very loose and free. In order to create the joyful mood of this piece, I needed to be on my feet and feel as if I was dancing as I painted.
Here is the view from where I sit at my computer. Frog, Moose, Bear, and Wolf stay on my monitor and keep watch over me as I write.
Here are my paintbrushes, my favorite kind of watercolor paper, and a few watercolor pencils. My oldest and best-loved paintbrush is the #10 round in the foreground, laying on top of my Arches watercolor block. I've had this brush for ages, ever since my college days as an art major at the University of Tennessee. The bristles are all messed up and it is held together with masking tape, but it is still capable of making some interesting marks with its haywire bits of sable.
I hope you enjoyed the tour!
March 29, 2008
Topic: a walk down the road 
Here are a few photos of where I live. Pretend that you are walking down the road with me. The sky is gray and a light drizzle of rain is falling, such blessed rain—perhaps this year we won’t have such a drought. Early springtime is wonderful for the views, before the “wall of green” takes effect and blocks out our view of the steep hillsides.
As we walk down the driveway, we see that the forsythia bush is eight  feet tall and blooming like mad, with its willowy branches trailing into the creek below.
This old rock fence, built in the early 1800’s, is part of the scenery as we walk down the county road. 
A wild turkey is about fifty feet away, to our right. He isn’t in a hurry, and neither is the photogenic cow who posed for this shot. I’d like to get a photo of one of my favorite purple wildflowers, but the breeze is blowing and their stems bend and sway, making all my photos blur. It is my favorite because it comes so early in the spring and reminds me of my childhood, when I’d lie flat on the grass and watch for new flowers, making up stories about them. I ought to know the name of this flower since I’ve loved it for so many years. So… what’s next? Ah, so much to see…every moment is spectacular in its extravagant gifts—each day is a new day. Enjoy!
March 21, 2008
Topic: Winter is finally over!
Not that I don't like winter, but I admit I'm glad that spring has officially arrived. Today when I walked down the road, I saw four kinds of butterflies, a new baby goat, loads of purple wildflowers, and a few blooming fruit trees! Here is a parting shot of a winter scene, everybody all bundled up, taken a month ago. (Notice Nolan's cute belly button).
Happy springtime to all. I will be outside a lot for the next few weeks and so I probably won't post such long blogs...maybe just a few photos of recent sightings. I love the length of daylight in the spring. In fact, I hope to start early in the day, doing my Salute to the Sun at sunrise on our deck, weather permitting. Until next time, have fun outside! Namaste.
 March 18, 2008
Topic: lightness of being, Part Two
Everyone knows that smiles and laughter are contagious. (This photo of beet-eating baby Nolan always makes me smile). If you are feeling down and blue, you could try deliberately smiling, laughing, singing, or dancing. It may feel awkward at first, but the benefits are the same… it could make you happy to practice “lightness of being” in your thoughts and body language. Smile as you gently think of every muscle, organ, tissue—smile at your belly, your liver, your nose, your skin, etc.—and you could soar with self-worth as you mentally thank each part. Gratitude sure beats scowling and worrying about body parts. If you are a yoga student, you could try it when you do savasana at the end of yoga class: mentally scan your body as you relax into the pose…and inwardly smile. Generous thoughts of gratitude promote health and healing.
In other words, what we think about really matters!
For most people, thoughts are somewhat controllable and a matter of choice. The tape we play over and over in our minds, the words that we habitually use to describe ourselves, the expression we compose upon our faces, and the inner visions and memories that we allow to roll like a movie—all of these help create who we are, who we become, and how good (or bad) we feel emotionally and physically. “The reality of man is his thought, not his material body.”—Abdu’l-Baha
Our thoughts become words; our words become our actions, and whatever actions that we perform habitually help to form our character…our health…our destiny…. And so, it makes sense to try to think good thoughts. Let us all hold light-filled thoughts in our minds, hearts, and bodies. Namaste.
 March 15, 2008
Topic: lightness of being, Part One
In case you wonder, the reason I write these blogs is for my own enlightenment—not because I already know the answers with my conscious mind. Ideas come to me as I write. To me, writing and painting are forms of meditation… when your spirit asks questions of itself…waits to receive…and then miraculously finds a few answers.
My current quest is to understand “lightness of being” and how to be gently and authentically happy. Has anyone ever told you to lighten up, don’t be so heavy, don’t take such a heavy-handed approach, or just give it a light touch? “Lightness” implies a lack of emotional baggage, a joyful approach to life, optimism, faith, trust, playfulness, and the opposite of the blues. People who somehow acquire a “lightness of being” may be perfectly serious people and yet also joyfully light and bright. They may be ethereal, otherworldly…or very down to earth, rip-roaring funny people. There are so many ways to incorporate the combination of traits that creates lightness.
I’ve noticed a few triggers for my own sense of heaviness—one of them is the demon called Rejection. But, I tell myself: you can’t please all the people all the time… or some people anytime. Disapproval is not the end of the world. Rejection happens. You will get over it. What’s more important is to be true to your own self and be gentle with yourself. As Janis Joplin said, “Don’t compromise yourself. You are all you’ve got.”
When I started taking yoga classes, one thing I quickly learned was that it was different from any other exercise class I’d ever taken. A yoga teacher is not like a coach who urges you to go, go, faster, harder. You are not there to please the teacher. (Don’t be shocked—any good yoga teacher will agree). Trying to please the teacher is a recipe for injury. Above all, you must listen to the messages of your own body and your Inner Teacher. And so, your Downward Dog might not have your heels reaching all the way to the floor because your Inner Teacher says that your calves are too tight and you cannot put your heels on the floor without straining a muscle or tendon. With time and practice, you may eventually get your heels on the floor. But, if not, that’s okay, because having your sit bones high in the air is far more important. You still did your personal best pose. The benefits are the same.
In Part Two, I want to explore that idea of “the benefits are the same” because it holds important clues about acquiring lightness and a sense of well-being. Until next time, may you feel light, express light, and be light. Namaste.
 March 10, 2008
Topic: Don’t worry; be happy. Huh?
After an event turned out all right, my mother would always say, “My best worrying was a total waste of time.” My dad would smile and say, “I never have to worry about a thing. She does it for me.” And sometimes he would tease her with nonsense words he concocted: “Whirr, whirr, worrita, worrita…” which, I suppose, were the whirring sounds of gears turning in her busy mind. She’d laugh, growl at him, and lightly punch him in the guts. (They were so funny).
I grew up believing that it was normal to worry, think ahead, and project disastrous outcomes for simple excursions into the world. But, as a rebellious teenager, I consciously chose the opposite route. I didn’t want to worry. I wanted happiness! I wanted spontaneity and wild abandon. If things got crazy due to my lack of forethought, so be it. So there! Then, when I was 23, I became a mom myself. Whoa. Reality check. All of a sudden, I understood why Momma worried all the time. Things can spin out of control in less than a split second. Babies and toddlers need constant watching. But then babies suddenly—overnight, it seems—become teenagers and if you want them to be normal rather than totally neurotic, you have to learn to let go, let go, let go while somehow conveying that you truly care and want them to be safe. It’s such a balancing act. It’s a wonder that any parent-child relationship survives all that angst, drama, and tug-of-war.
Why do we worry? Is it pointless? Is it an act of love or is it a control trip? Are we more “enlightened” if we don’t worry and simply relax and go with the flow? Does worrying about something cause it to happen? Does our “negative energy” make a self-fulfilling prophecy? Do we call our fears to us by worrying excessively? Is there such a thing as healthy fear? At what point does fear become unhealthy? Is worrying a fear-based activity or is it motivated by love?
I think worrying can be either “good” or “bad” depending on your motive for doing it. Some worrying is obviously motivated by pure intentions and genuine love. But some people use it as a way to manipulate and control others—preying on their natural fears in order to get them to do something. The sage advice, “don’t worry—be happy” is excellent advice to keep us from indulging in the “bad” form of worrying, which is all about ego and power tripping. However, some forms of worry, such as the worry of a good parent about her babies, are okay. It all boils down to motivation, doesn’t it?
When we feel ourselves falling into a worry trap, we need to ask ourselves why. Is this particular worry motivated by the love of power (ego…the over-inflated kind) or the power of Love? Will this thought lead to war or peace? Will it cause harmony or discord? As Jimi Hendrix said, “When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
Peace and happiness to all. Namaste.
March 5, 2008
Topic: clarity (and courage…)
I am going through a time of fasting and spiritual/physical cleansing right now. Every year, I do this with a particular intention in mind—this time, I have dedicated my fast to clarity. Clarity means clearness, simplicity, purity, transparency, or lucidity. It is the opposite of confusion, fuzziness, or distortion. Clarity’s synonym, lucidity, means “clearness of thought” and “a capacity to perceive the truth directly and instantaneously”. Aha. Wouldn’t that be a great trait to have? Some people have it naturally—it is one of their spiritual gifts. Often, people with innate clarity and lucidity have a strong inner archetype of Judge, Healer, or Teacher. Their archetype might be noticeable enough that they follow it as a career choice. I find that very cool. Talk about following your bliss!
To me, a sense of clarity is the same as trusting your inner knowing. You lose the confusion. The fuzzy brain and inner conflict disappear like mist—the fog lifts, and suddenly you know what to do, what to say, how you really feel, and what you truly believe. The wavering and waffling stops and is replaced by a powerful calm. If I had more clarity on certain matters, it would help me navigate a maze of current changes and choices. If I could only see my way clear, I’d run with the ball… probably. Courage is also required. Maybe I need to add courage to my intentions for this time. Yep. What good is clarity without courage?
There are yoga asana that help you attain these attributes. All the Warrior poses are wonderful for increasing your clarity and courage. You can actually feel the lines of energy pulsing through your arms and legs, outwards. Your core is strong. Your eyes focus past your fingertips as if you are about to release an arrow or throw a spear. You are balanced, alert, and ready. Your body is strong and pulsing with energy.
I think I have my answer already. Just writing this blog, I’ve experienced an expansion of some sort, deep in me. Now I need to do about a thousand Warrior poses and maybe I’ll be brave enough to embrace the unknowns in my life.
Okay, got to get busy now. Thanks for listening!
 February 27, 2008
Topic: bliss first
Joseph Campbell famously advised, “Follow your bliss.” Because he followed his own advice, he led an eventful and unusual life as a scholar, of all things. Apparently, becoming the hero of your own journey and searching for your highest purpose (and your most authentic self!) is the same as following your bliss. To always do what creates the greatest bliss in your life seems like the most natural way to live, doesn’t it? After all, babies are programmed that way. Any baby coming into this world will automatically follow her bliss, seek the twin fountains of milk, and grow-grow-grow in body and spirit.
But as adults, it often takes a tremendous degree of open-mindedness to recognize your bliss. Your mind might not agree with what your heart is telling you. Bliss might not look the way you think it should look. It might have nothing to do with impressing the neighbors or wowing your friends. It might even be a humble job paying humble wages, or no wages at all.
Anyone who discovers that art—any form of the arts— is their True Bliss is generally faced with Harsh Reality when they try to sell their work. Art is a hard path to follow. But it is what you must do if that is your path. I have recently joined the community of independent artists online at Etsy.com and I am enjoying the idealism found there. The Etsy slogan is “Buy, Sell, and Live Handmade” and their vision is to build a new economy where the producer and the consumer are reconnected. I believe that everyone has an art form of some sort. Making a cake, growing a tomato, painting a picture, writing a song or a story, dancing like a fool to private music in your head—all of these are potentially blissful and artistic, if done with great sincerity and focused energy. If you watched the Oscars this year, you might have been heartened by the warmth of the acceptance speeches for the Best Song (Falling Slowly). Their basic message was, “Make art, make art, make art.”
Believe in what your heart says. Make your art. Nurse your babies. Write your poem. Sew your quilt. Build a table. Give a speech. Teach a class. Do yoga. Grow a flower garden. Maybe you’ll have to hold down three jobs while you follow the desire of your heart, but that’s okay. Nourishing your own spirit is important work. And, if at all possible, always place your bliss first. Give yourself some much-needed oxygen…some breathing space…
Happy creating!
P.S. Please visit my new etsy shop at http://studiowanda.etsy.com
February 18, 2008
Topic: my current play list
In Yoga Journal, they sometimes share a play list of music for your yoga practice. This is my favorite play list at the moment:
1) Full Moon Trance, by Shastro, from the album Sacred World. Actually, every song on this album is fabulous for doing yoga.
2) Court and Spark, sung by Norah Jones, from this year’s Grammy record of the year, Herbie Hancock’s River: the Joni Letters. All of the songs were composed by Joni Mitchell.
3) River, from the same album.
4) Falling Slowly, from the soundtrack to Once. The singer/songwriter, Glen Hansard, has a voice that strongly reminds me of Cat Stevens.
5) If You Want Me, from the soundtrack to Once. I love the ache in her voice and the beautiful harmony when he joins in singing the chorus with her. I am a whistler—actually, I am quite good at whistling—and I love to whistle this song!
6) For Shame of Doing Wrong, a gorgeous rendition of a Richard Thompson song, sung by a group called Ida. It’s hauntingly beautiful.
7) Please Read the Letter, from the amazing collaboration by Led Zeppelin’s Robert Plant and the sweet voice of Alison Kraus on the album, Raising Sand.
8) Coming Back to Me, by Jefferson Airplane on Surrealistic Pillow. I’ve always been a big fan of this album, but this song is so beautiful. The only element that reminds you of the Sixties is the line about the summer inhaling too long. Funny.
9) Into the Mystic, by Van Morrison. This song makes me sentimental for some sort of mystical homecoming, yet to be.
10) The Wind Cries Mary, Jimi Hendrix in one of his most mellow and brilliant moments. Pure poetry, with more than a trace of longing. I love the lines, “…a broom is drearily sweeping up the broken pieces of yesterday’s life…” and "...will the wind ever remember the names..."
11) Yellowcake, by Kaki King. I had the good fortune to see her perform for free at Grimey’s record shop in Nashville. About fifty of us were crowded around her, watching her virtuoso way with a guitar. Brilliant playing. In this particular song, she sings a little bit too. I particularly like the lyric, “Open yourself. You will become the light you seek.”
Wow, isn’t that beautiful? The inevitable result of fearlessness, trust, surrender, and letting go…embracing that which you seek. And so I will leave you with that thought—that prayer from the heart: Open yourself. You will become the light you seek.
 February 10, 2008
Topic: randomness and general wandering around
“Like cars in amusement parks, our direction is often determined through collisions.”—Yahia Lababidi
Because I am writing a novel with a 17-year-old protagonist, A Cardboard House, I have recalled many character-forming scenes from my own teen years. Here are a few bits and pieces:
1) My older sister taught me how to sew when I was in 8th grade. She had her work cut out for her—I was not the quickest student—but she hung in there with me, in spite of my thickheaded confusion and all-thumbs approach. (Thanks, Teresa!). I remember her exasperation, telling me how impatient I was because I didn’t want to repair my mistakes and rip out stitches to make the sleeve attach without lumps or the invisible zipper actually be invisible. But I did it anyway, and eventually became competent enough to make my dresses, coats, capes, and at least one cloth purse. I grew to truly love sewing and created a lot of odd designs. By age 15, I began to sew the way I cooked and painted—without a pattern, without a recipe, and without an organized plan. 
2) When I discovered watercolors at age 17, I found my art medium. There is simply no way to get ironclad results with these unpredictable paints. An element of chaos makes great beauty happen—it’s so magical to watch it unfold as the paint dries into its fantastic shapes. In my art and in my life, I prefer looseness to tightness, staying flexible, and noticing the beauty along the way. (Hey, maybe that’s why I love yoga too... it’s a lot like doing a watercolor…)
3) Some people seem to “know” (with their heads) what they want and go after it with single-minded zeal, never veering off course. I admire that kind of fire and vigor as long as they don’t ignore the subtler messages of their heart or their body. But I have come to understand that I am not one of those driven and goal-oriented people. Maybe it was due to the time and place of my birth, or to the parents I had? Or it might have had something to do with my name, Wanda, which means “wanderer”…and ‘tis true, I’ve always felt perfectly at home with my wandering and wayward thoughts.
4) As a teen, I was not an avid reader as I am now but the books I read were very influential. Most notably, I read The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran (which blew me away with its poetry, wisdom, and flowing art) and the works of Henry David Thoreau…and so it stands to reason that at age 18, I built a small Thoreau-like house in the woods, my cardboard house…
...and it also makes sense that I still live in the woods. This is where I feel most at home in the world. It gives me what I need to nurture my spirit and my creativity. As Thoreau says, “This world is but a canvas to our imagination.”
 February 4, 2008
Topic: face to face with faces
I love faces. I love to watch them like the clouds in the sky…and paint, photograph, or write about them. So much wordless communication occurs via the face. I love to see myself reflected in someone’s eyes, especially if that person loves me. And I love to express my openhearted love of a person via my own face. It is such a joy to have a functioning face, no matter what we look like or whether we consider ourselves to be good-looking or not. Our faces say so much. That is why a face to face conversation can be a turning point in our lives, even when no words are spoken.
There is something very honest about a face. It is incredibly muscular and can register the tiniest shift in emotion, like a seismograph. What we think, from moment to moment, literally gets registered on our faces. As Camus said, “Alas, after a certain age every man is responsible for his face.” Well, alas and alack, ‘tis true…and isn’t it wonderful? An old person’s face can be such a joy to behold…every bit as beautiful as a baby’s.
Look at your own face (without a mirror) and all you will see is a bit of your nose and maybe a faint shadow of your cheeks. Even when you look in a mirror, you can’t be sure of what you are seeing. For example, try this: stare into your own reflection until all aspects of your face disappear, except for your eyes. You see only your eyes…and actually, you only see one of your eyes because it is impossible to focus on both eyes at once. Try it, and you’ll see what I mean.
Once, during Yoga Teacher Training, we all chose a partner and gazed into each other’s eyes. It required deep trust to do it because it was a potentially emotional encounter…to see and be seen by another person is a truly beautiful experience. It feels like you are wordlessly saying, you can trust me and I will trust you, I see you as you are, I can see where you have been, I respect you and your path, I love you because you are who you are…I honor the light within you….
Namaste.
January 28, 2008
Topic: my giant ice cube dream of Popsicle people and other true confessions
It is three o’clock in the morning now. I just woke up from a very odd dream that involved somebody asking a question…and your answer determined your fate. If you didn’t answer the question right, your fate was to be frozen inside a giant ice cube. You looked like a Popsicle. I suppose that these ice cube people would eventually get thawed out again, but I didn’t hang around in my dream to find out. Yikes! Instead, I woke up…and spent the next few minutes trying to figure out why such a strange image cropped up in my sleeping mind. I came up with all kinds of murky weirdness related to inner tensions. Inner tensions are reflected in the body. If I neglect my yoga practice, my muscles begin to freeze up. For sure, I know a bit about feeling frozen and I do NOT like it.
Feeling frozen isn’t quite the same as being stagnant. Being stagnant implies that you are moving along, but very slowly like a sloth or a slug or a swamp. (Hey, I can own up to my Inner Sloth or even my Inner Slug, but could I ever embrace my Inner Ice Cube? No!) Being frozen would probably feel like being totally tense and cold, unable to move. Kind of like that Star Wars scene where Hans Solo gets frozen before he’s shipped off to become the wall decoration for the home of Jabba the Hutt.
As you can imagine, I didn’t like that train of thought and so I got out of bed and started writing this. Now, at 3 a.m., I am thinking that inner tension occurs because of discrepancies between what is actually happening in your life and what you wish was happening. In other words, there is incongruence…maybe even some pretense…and most certainly, there is some disharmony somewhere in your life. Your outward self does not reflect the truth of your inward self. (Ahem. Pay attention, Wanda. Why did I just slip into this “you” and “your” talk? Can’t I own up to not being inwardly and outwardly the same? Keep it real…). 
Okay, slipping back into first person “I” language…the question for me, myself and I (and maybe for you, too…) is whether or not I’ll take this Work In Progress, ME, and work towards freeing up my emotions so that my warm heart will forever keep me liquid and flowing, and thus keep me safe from the dangers and rigidities of the ice cube state. J…Yes, I believe I can do this.
But I have had a lifetime of being stoic and often standoffish in my effort to avoid conflict. Even as a little girl, I decided that nobody would want to see every berserk emotion that flitted through me. I didn’t want to inflict my emotions upon innocent bystanders. I decided that I’d rather be self-contained, reserved, and cautious. Instead of asking for help, I would be the one who offered her help. I’d become helpful. Keep on the sunny side of life. Put on a happy face. When you smile, then the whole world smiles with you. (This is true, by the way).
All I wanted was to be happy, but I ended up shutting down parts of myself in order to maintain a happy façade. It is exactly what so many people do to themselves. By pretending to be braver than I am, by deluding myself into believing that I had it together, by denying my shadow side and pretending to have only positive feelings…does any of this sound familiar to you? Anyway, about the time when both my parents died within 13 months of each other, back in 2005 and 2006, I finally cracked.
And as the brilliant Leonard Cohen says in his lyrics, “There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
Yes, I wanted to appear strong and “together” and keep my emotions in check. But did I want to be an Ice Cube? Did I want to be like that Popsicle person in my dream? Never! Hopefully, I never took it quite that far.
I can feel myself opening up. Yoga helps. And so does sharing my art and my writing, sharing my thoughts, and wishing you well. Hey, my friend, let's do some melting. Let the sun shine in.
 January 21, 2008
I love these photos of Nolan with our three dogs and felt compelled to post them here, although I’m not sure how I’ll tie them into the concepts of yoga. Let’s see…one of yoga’s most frequently used poses is called Downward Facing Dog…will that tie it in? Nope. As you can see, Dakota, Dodge, and Honda aren’t doing any stretching. They’re all plopped down for their afternoon naps, being hugged by a wide-awake baby boy.
Honda and Dakota look resigned to their fates, as patient and wise as the old dogs that they are. Dodge, our youngest pet,  looks like she wants to dodge his baby kisses, but she’s submitting to them anyway. (Good dog!).
(By the way, in case you wonder, we always name our pets after our cars. We have an old Dodge Dakota truck and a Honda. We used to have dogs named Mercedes, Benz, and Volvo...and all our roosters are named Ford. It seems to suit them).
A lot of yoga asana have animal names. Besides Down Dog, we also have Upward Facing Dog and the Puppy pose…and, to name a few, Cobra, Peacock, Crane, Frog, Cow, Eagle, Cat, Fish, Locust, Camel, and Dolphin. They may sound cute, but to do them is a real workout and a  work of art! And, beyond the sheer beauty and the physical benefits, there is some sort of wonderful “thing” that happens when you work with these asana, over and over. It’s all about energy, the breath, releasing, surrendering, exploring…ultimately, it’s all about peace, fearlessness, and love. As Erich Schiffmann says, “The purpose of yoga is to facilitate the profound inner relaxation that accompanies fearlessness. The release from fear is what finally precipitates the full flowering of love. In this state you will love what you see in others, and others will love you for having been seen. This is the softened perception of the world that yoga promotes.”
But, let’s face it. I’m not really writing about yoga today. I’m just posting pictures of Nolan and the dogs. Aren’t they cute?
 January 14, 2008
Topic: what I am reading now—Yoga Anatomy
I gave up television fifteen years ago, returned to it briefly when my mother-in-law lived with us, and am now back to zero TV again. We have no access to it without paying around $50 a month to a satellite TV company—which we now refuse to do. Most TV shows leave me feeling rattled & jangled or sluggish & numb, depending on whether they assault my adrenaline levels or not.
I truly prefer to read. On my night stand now: The Gift: Poems by Hafiz, translated by Daniel Ladinsky; a funny and useful book by Bill Bryson called Bryson’s Dictionary of Troublesome Words; and The Places That Scare You: a guide to fearlessness in difficult times, by Pema Chodron. What I am about to read (and devour in one sitting because I’ve heard that it is terrific!) is a novel called The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, by Sherman Alexie.
I’m also studying Yoga Anatomy by Leslie Kaminoff. I want to work through it, pose by pose, and experience the movement of all the muscles highlighted in the drawings. The detailed illustrations seem like a treasure map exploring the terrain of the human body. I’ve long been fascinated with the many systems for understanding the body—our western medical model, the Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) approach using meridians, the Ayurvedic model, and the “body as energy” ideas explained by teachers such as Caroline Myss, who says that our biography becomes our biology—the story of our life is written in our cellular history. Because I perceive the material self as symbolic of the spiritual/energetic self, I’d like to know why certain yoga poses feel so utterly fantastic. Some make me laugh; some make me feel powerful; and some give me a dose of bliss a thousand times better than any drug could give. I wonder: was there a stored memory there, suddenly released by the pose?
I’ll report my findings, as I continue working with my personal laboratory—this body of mine, imperfect as it is, yet miraculous in all the information that it yields. “Know thyself” is the task we are assigned when we arrive here—and there is so much to know! Even in one tiny cell, there is a universe of meaning.
 January 4, 2008
Topic: Skunks
I’ve been procrastinating about writing my first blog message for 2008 because I’ve recently realized how many people read this website. For a natural almost-a-hermit type, it’s a bit intimidating to find hundreds of people checking up on me every month. I don’t know if every visitor reads my blog, but I do know that about thirty to forty percent of my website’s unique visitors end up adding it to their list of favorites. Which is wonderful! Thank you! I love the fact that your journey has led you to my site. I hope to hear from more of you in 2008.
For all my fellow hermits, this blog’s for you. Today I have been meditating on what it means to be alone. No matter if you reside in the boondocks or in a city apartment, we all live in a highly interactive universe. The fact is, even when we tend to be a bit reclusive, there is still the human necessity for contact, connection, sharing, and exchange. I once believed that this interaction had to come from other human beings, but now I see that my daily dose of connection and that beautiful feeling of love, warmth, peace, and sharing can also come from a brief encounter with a flower, a rock, an insect, a bird, or a four-legged creature. And sometimes the encounter is truly interactive. I’ve had hawks and snakes get up close and personal with me, many times. And then there are the lovely little skunks.
Once again, this seems to be a Skunk Year around here. Two skunks in four days strikes me as worthy of taking note. My dog, Dakota (pictured here) is immune to skunk odor now; she’s been sprayed so many times that her poor old nose has lost its sensitivity! The first time she was sprayed, as a puppy about ten years ago, my son and I witnessed it. A golden-greenish arc of skunk fragrance flew ten feet into the air and landed all over Dakota. Phew! Believe me; fresh skunk spray is MUCH worse than not-so-fresh. Our dog howled, rolled in the grass, and buried her nose in mud. The interesting thing was to watch the skunk’s utter nonchalance. It was extremely cute and scampered off in such a playful way with its luxurious tail bobbing along. I was entranced by this creature that waited patiently to allow Dakota to change her mind and back off before turning around and spraying my inquisitive dog.
I’d like to be more of a Skunk as I navigate this world. Always assuming the best out of all that I encounter, nonchalant (non-challenging), patient, playful, and yet serene in the knowledge that no Big Dog is going to ruin my day. Maybe that’s the message my dear skunk friends are trying to tell me.
In this interactive universe, full of delights and a multitude of glorious creatures, I wish you Joy, Happiness, and Luck for 2008!
December 29, 2007
Topic: pound cake and other sweet things
In the realm of desserts, is there anything better than a Southern pound cake? Probably not. I succeeded in making a fairly decent one this year, following a recipe found in a magazine. It looked good, tasted good, and behaved as a pound cake should, but in some mysterious way that I cannot analyze with my mind but can fully appreciate with my mouth, my pound cake was not it. There are some skills you cannot learn from a mere magazine; you must learn them in person. Unfortunately, I could not convince an old friend of mine to show me their family recipe and so I had to make do (and if you are reading this, you know who you are…). Actually, now that I’ve made one, I can see why this certain somebody who will remain nameless didn’t want to share. Pound cakes are pure magic…a real family treasure. (Okay, I forgive you, old friend). 
My father-in-law was not a Southerner by birth, but he made wonderful pound cakes. Naturally, my first attempt at baking one was a cause for comparison and comments such as, “Well, it’s not as good as Gust’s, but…” And it’s sadly true. Mine was not miraculous or awe-inspiring. Gust used to make them weekly…full of butter and more butter and oh yes, more butter… and the man never gained an ounce! He was truly amazing. I guess he’s on my mind because he would have been 98 years old today…born in 1909 in a Swedish-speaking home made of prairie sod, way up in the wilds of North Dakota, the son of a tailor. Perhaps he learned how to be such a wizard due to his upbringing on the prairies. When I think of him, I recall his patience and meticulous attention to detail, whether making a cake, getting a wine spot off white linen, or repairing an ancient Mercedes for his sons—Gust had all that, and much more. Maybe that’s my missing ingredient…a Gust-like attention to detail and scads of hard-won patience. Or maybe I need to open myself up to divine inspiration as I cook. I’ll try the recipe again next year, and see what I come up with.
 December 17, 2007
Topic: thoughts on abundance.
In the last few years, I've painted dozens of pictures of women in deep thought, like this one. I have always been interested in the power of our thoughts, even when I was a young teenager. Here is a famous quote that got me started: “There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” (William Shakespeare, Hamlet). It reminded me of another famous saying (from Proverbs): “As a man thinketh, so is he.”
Can you ever think too much? Well, yes. Speaking from my own experience, I have found that thinking too much can lead to brooding and melancholy. That’s why I needed yoga, a form of meditation through movement. Yoga is a way to balance my tendency to think too much. If I am balanced and no longer feel the need to endlessly brood on impossible puzzles over which I have no control, then I am free to choose a more positive default mode for my active mind.
One of my favorite books is by Wendell Berry, a farmer who is a truly great thinker and writer. The book is Harlan Hubbard: Life and Work. In part, it is the story of Harlan Hubbard and his wife, Anna, who built a house with their own hands (a subject near and dear to my heart since age 18, when I built my cardboard house). In this book, I found another quote that has become part of the fabric of my life. It is a simple statement, but it spoke directly into my heart…“What we need is at hand.”
What we need is at hand. Wow. What a great way to express the belief that nothing is lacking, abundance is all around us, and the universe is basically a benevolent place. Maybe we don't always get what we want, but we get what we need. (Do I hear music playing...?) Need I say more? Season’s Greetings and best wishes for beauty and abundance in 2008!
 December 10, 2007
This year, we had an unusual drought. Lakes and rivers dwindled dramatically. Wells and springs dried up, leaving us with very little water at our rural home. Going out in our canoe was impossible because the rivers were only a few inches deep. Today, when I found these pictures of a 2006 canoe trip, they made me feel such a mixture of feelings—the pleasure of the memory mixed with fear that it may never happen again.
 Thoughts that flicker through me…
Rewind that tape. Let me try again. Whoa. Let’s find a still pool…a place with no movement…and simply eddy here for a long, long time enjoying the air upon our skin and the cool water on our fingertips. I will never again neglect a summer’s day. I will be grateful for rain, sunshine, rivers, canoe trips…and the ability to turn on the tap for a glass of water.
 The universe offers us many chances to throw ourselves in and swim, like my young friend in these photos. It feels good to dive in… the thrill of the plunge into cold and murky water, swimming in a new environment with alien beings such as snapping turtles and fish, the rush to the surface for air, and feeling the warm sunshine once again. You can learn a lot from a trip to the river. I intend to do it all again—over and over—and love every moment.
And yes, you can apply this idea to just about anything that you love. Yoga, art, writing, relationships, cooking, gardening, singing, dancing…. May what you do be what you love, in this and every year to come. Happy Holidays!
December 4, 2007
Today’s topic: Chair Yoga and other thoughts
Someone recently asked if I could teach a yoga class in which we would all sit in chairs to perform the poses. Yes, and what a great idea! Her question made me think about various spinal twists, hip openers, finger and toe stretchers, and all kinds of neck and shoulder movements that are possible to do while sitting in a chair. I also realized that I naturally start stretching in yoga-like ways if I am forced to sit for a long time. Whenever I am trapped in a car for a day’s drive, (as a passenger, not as the driver!), I usually work on growing my lotus pose—stretching my ankle joints very gently, feeling the deep hip movement, listening to my knees to be sure they never strain, and finally sliding my right foot up to my left inner thigh—and then repeating the process on the other side. I can entertain myself for an hour or more, simply working on my lotus while sitting strapped in with a seatbelt.
Rambling on with my thoughts, I want to address the idea of looking weird, or the fear of looking weird, and how that can affect our desire to exercise. Some of us might avoid a yoga class due to fear of the tight-fitting outfits that will reveal our bodies. The fear is that we will be judged by others and found lacking in some way…lumpy, fat, skinny, flat, unsymmetrical, awkward, dorky, clumsy, or just plain odd. I must admit, I know exactly how that feels. My first yoga classes were filled with sideways glances at other students, hoping I didn’t look too ridiculous. As a kid, I was always the LAST person chosen for a team…unless it was basketball. (I’m tall). For a child, that is a nightmarish scenario because it feels like the entire sixth grade is well aware of your horrible inadequacies at batting, pitching, kicking, or whatever. Now, as a mature adult (ha!), I can use my mind to reason with my quivering fears. Although I can’t be certain that I am not being judged as lacking, I can comb the depths of my own heart and mind and verify that I am not judging others. As long as I am not thinking harsh thoughts, the chances are very good that nobody will be harsh with me. It’s amazing how that works.
As a healing thought, we can try to be open-minded and compassionate towards ourselves and others. I try to practice nonjudgmental compassion towards my own body—loving the body I’m in, every square inch of it, inside and out—which, hopefully, leads to love and compassion towards all bodies and all people. Fear-based competitiveness melts away. The heart unfolds and relaxes, becoming more open and less fearful as the clenched knot dissolves. Like blossoming, it is definitely a risk worth taking. Anais Nin said it beautifully: “…and then the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
I'm not sure how these random thoughts intersect, but that's what a blog is all about--a chance to informally throw ideas out into the great unknown called the Internet. Thinking about chair yoga led to thinking about love and acceptance...don't ask me why, it just did. I'll try to be more organized in my next blog attempt. See you in about a week!
November 27, 2007
In previous blog entries, I’ve written about positive traits and hopeful ideas such as balance, soul mates, trust, and gratitude. But, lest anyone assume that my life is always sunny, I’m here today to dispel those notions. Shadows happen. 
Follow love, not fear. That’s easier said than done. There are some days when I don’t want to do my yoga practice. It’s hard to figure out why I don’t want to be nice to myself and give myself an hour of yoga, but there are days when it doesn’t happen. I’m even less disciplined about meditation. Maybe I want to avoid discovering what I might find out when I “inquire within”. Undoubtedly, I’ll find something murky and yucky if I keep on digging. The question is: do I want to keep digging? Well, yes…and no. The raw and ragged moments are the ones I stuff deep into my memory—often so deep that I “forget” that they happened.
As an artist, I often allow my subconscious to paint the picture. Here is an example. I call it Ghost because the girl looks haunted, numb, alone. Now that I have painted her, I know this girl well. She arose out of a painful moment, when I finally remembered what I’d seemingly forgotten. The full title of the painting is a haiku I wrote:
Ghost at the window
Taps on glass to be let in
Blind eyes and deaf ears.
As a fiction writer, I have a wealth of dreadful memories to draw upon. For example, as an admitting clerk in our county’s tiny ER, I saw some scary moments in people’s lives—fresh knife wounds, gunshot wounds, lacerations of all kinds, heart attacks, death happening as I stood there and watched, blue faces, and heart-wrenching screams from distraught family members. Our ER was so tiny that there were only three beds. On nights when twelve patients arrived simultaneously, the admitting clerk (me) had to act as triage nurse. Without any medical training and working for minimum wage, I attempted to help traumatized people. One night, I innocently and sincerely told a young man who’d been shot four times in the back that he would live. I hope he did.
Self-inflicted emotional wounds are some of the worst kinds. When the shadows get really thick, I might indulge in self-defeating behavior and sabotage my own happiness or success. We all have an inner Saboteur. Learning to recognize our own peculiar pattern of self-sabotage is an important step. Like Wile E. Coyote, we fall into the same traps, over and over. After a while, it gets funny. Laughing about my vulnerabilities helps. In fact, isn’t that where all great comics get their best routines? My mom was a comic storyteller. She’d known a lot of pain and could tell the funniest stories. Shedding the light through humor was one of her gifts. Naturally, her last words were a joke—a spontaneous, wonderful joke. Even as she died, she made us all laugh. To me, that was a precious gift.
Love is all that matters, in the end. I hope that I’ll eventually shed light on all my dark corners …and maybe even make a few people laugh along with me, like my dear Momma. Here is a quote that speaks to this idea of love, kindness, and compassion for our own selves as well as for others, spoken by another fine lady, Eleanor Roosevelt:
“A mature person is one who does not think only in absolutes, who is able to be objective even when deeply stirred emotionally, who has learned that there is both good and bad in all people and in all things, and who walks humbly and deals charitably with the circumstances of life, knowing that in this world no one is all knowing and therefore all of us need both love and charity.” -Eleanor Roosevelt, diplomat and writer (1884-1962)
 November 19, 2007
In honor of Thanksgiving, I am focusing on gratitude as the topic for this week’s blog.
If you take a yoga class, you may notice that the teacher usually begins and/or ends the class with the gesture, Namaste. With eyes closed, her hands clasped in prayer position over her heart, a bow of her head, and the word, Namaste (pronounced na-ma-stay), she initiates this brief symbol of gratitude between herself and her students, inviting them to also perform the gesture. Loosely translated, Namaste means “I honor the Light within you”—representing the idea that there is a Divine spark within each of us. “Nama” means bow, “as” means I, and “te” means you—therefore, literally, Namaste means “bow I you” or “I bow to you.” No matter what your background or religion, Namaste is a symbol of gratitude and respect towards others, to our fellow students of yoga, and to all our teachers. From one heart to another, it is a beautiful, albeit quick, meditation.
This watercolor from 2004, entitled Butterfly, shows a young woman in a rapt state, hand to her heart, watching the sky. I haven’t done a painting of the prayer hands position yet, but I’m sure that it will be an image that I’ll paint one day soon.
In this miraculous and tumultuous time, when it has become obvious that we are linked together in myriad and complex ways—that we all breathe the same air, inhabit the same planet, orbit the same sun—I want to express my gratitude and respect to all my fellow beings. Namaste. And Happy Thanksgiving!
 November 9, 2007
Here are a couple of line drawings that I did in pen & ink. The boy is in Tree Pose and the girl is doing Warrior I. When you do the series of Warrior poses, it enables you to access your own inner warrior… an important spiritual task for people of both genders. The Hero’s Journey is a requirement for everyone, female or male.
I’ve been thinking some more about maleness and femaleness. I mentioned it in my first blog in reference to the concept of Balance and have been mulling it over ever since. I started a major overhaul of a novel and one of the aspects of this revision was to change the point of view character to a male. For weeks, I’ve been rambling around inside the head of a teenage boy…and boy, has that been enlightening! I’ve been amazed at some of the thoughts he thinks. But, mostly, he doesn’t do a lot of thinking. He’s really into doing. Having fun, getting in and out of trouble, and, of course, solving a mystery. (The novel is a murder mystery).
Recently, I’ve had many dreams about a mysterious male spirit. The first one, in 2006, involved two ravens pulling at my fingers. They would not let me go until I embraced a male spirit who came to me in this dream. Perhaps the dream meant that I should gather my courage and embrace the unknown…this unknown being, who felt so deeply familiar yet profoundly mysterious. An old friend helped me to interpret this dream, and I finally realized that he was a part of me. He was part of my soul. Since then, I’ve had many enlightening dreams about him.
Lately, what I have learned about “embracing my male spirit” is that I must learn to be both focused and open…with focus being primarily the male aspect and openness being primarily the female aspect. And if I can be both focused and open, then I feel more balanced. It’s just a feeling… I tend to be intuitive and open (right-brained). But I imagine that the male aspect of my soul is pretty good at analysis, plotting, thinking things through with a clear head, not jumping track in the middle of a thought, logic, focus…all those lovely qualities of the left-brain. (Yin and Yang, I guess you could say?). And the wonderful thing is that we all have both within us…we are, in our essence, whole. Wholeness... I like the sound of that. It will take a while, but I intend to have a reunion with this aspect of “me” and discover a whole, new world.
 October 29, 2007
I hope you like this recent painting that I did in honor of a friend opening up her new yoga studio. To me, a dragonfly is ethereal, magical, graceful... and their wings shimmer like the colors of a rainbow. The dragonfly traditionally symbolizes the winds of change and transformation. It signals a time of enlightenment and helps us to recall the memory of a place or time when magic reigned. Dragonfly tells us to break through our illusions—to stop kowtowing to somebody else’s idea of reality—and to feel our authentic sense of self reemerge. Learn to live our own truth.
A couple of dear friends introduced me to the poet, Hafiz, the great Sufi master. In the radiant translation by Daniel Ladinsky, we Westerners get a glimpse of the mysticism and humor that is the essence of Hafiz. I have so many favorites, but there is one poem that hooked me, and it happens to be about a fish. In the book called The Gift, it is on page 198. I probably can’t quote it here without asking Mr. Ladinsky’s permission, but suffice it to say that the poem is about a fish who suddenly realizes that something ain’t quite right about the camel ride he is enduring…and the fish says I’m getting damn thirsty! (The poem’s title is Damn Thirsty, in case you’re wondering).
Sometimes I wake up and realize that I am like a fish thumping along on a dusty camel’s back instead of swimming in the ocean where I belong. Aha. These moments are what I call “my soul’s earthquake”–shaking, booming, rattling—an earthquake is exactly how it feels to me, complete with the potential for destruction. During my last soul earthquake, in 2006, I spent a few hours truly believing that I might keel over and die. At times like that, deep and mystical poetry helps me gain some perspective again. Poets like Hafiz, Rumi, Emily Dickinson, and modern masters like Mary Oliver…who wrote, so brilliantly, in her poem Wild Geese, that you don’t have to be good. You don’t have to be good… I love that idea. It’s so liberating…and so true. I bet Hafiz would totally agree with Mary Oliver, and so would anyone with a yoga practice.
In terms of yoga and the practice of asana, we should not compete with some foreordained idea of what is “good” or “correct”. Well, let me restate that. Although it is true that some poses are more advanced and serve as an ideal to attain, it is also true that we should never ignore our body’s warnings. Yoga is all about uniting the aspects of self, not ignoring and denying. We may look terrific, but if it feels wrong, it ain’t right, and it sure as heck ain’t yoga. Something ain’t quite right about this dry and dusty camel ride. Somewhere, the ocean is calling…
Yoga teaches us that listening to our body—our inner teacher—is essential. Alignment is a physical reality that we can easily grasp and begin to translate into emotional, intellectual, and spiritual integrity. By using the principle of alignment, instead of flopping around and gasping (like a fish out of water) we can slowly advance to our personal best movement (or path). Even if it looks a little weird… we can embrace weirdness and follow our bliss, learning to be exactly who we are. And, like the dragonfly, we can be magical beings full of grace.
And if this little essay makes any sense to you, perhaps we are on the same path. See you along the way! Namaste.
 October 18, 2007
Today’s topic: animals.
I live out in the boondocks, surrounded by steep hills, woods, and cow pastures. It’s quiet here. I walk four or five miles a day, early in the morning or late in the afternoon—for exercise, but also to give myself ample opportunities to watch the wildlife.
A couple of weeks ago, I was walking alone on the county road, having an inner monologue with an old friend who lives in my head, when suddenly a gorgeous buck with many antler points jumped right in front of me. I halted, dropped my jaw, and watched the scene unfold. The buck gazed at me, silent and still. He was magnificent. And then he glanced behind him towards the woods. Three does came out, one by one, and each of them stopped to stare at me. Then they leapt over the fence to follow the buck. They didn’t snort or flash their white tails. Obviously, they viewed me as non-threatening, and yet each of them spent half a minute staring at me. Naturally, I wondered, “Okay… now, what did that mean?”
Always, I ponder the meaning and look for messages. Even if I don’t come up with any earth-shaking insights, it’s a fun way to view the world. My Cherokee roots seem to appreciate this point of view. I always think about the animals I encounter, whether it is a hawk swooping in front of me holding a snake in his claws or a great blue heron startling out of the creek and then flying in a giant loop all the way around and back to the creek again. 
Bats, snakes, snapping turtles, deer, skunks (!), wild turkeys…there are so many visitors here. Last year, the big visitor (other than my lovely peacock) was the skunk…nine of them, to be exact, frisking and cavorting in the yard, driving our dogs nuts. Now, in 2007, we have a new visitor—the chipmunk.
It’s odd, but until recent months, I never saw any chipmunks near the house. They would zip across the road in front of my car, but now, they come to the porch. You can learn a lot from a chipmunk. I love his single-minded sprints, with his striped tail held high. He seems to be running in mid-air, he’s so quick! A daring visitor…sharp, focused on his goals. A rather assertive little chap. Hmmm, maybe that’s the meaning and the message for me…my chipmunk may be telling me to focus and get busy. Off that couch! Up, up! Stop fiddling around. Let’s get goal-oriented!
Okay. Yes, sir, Mr. Chipmunk. I’ll do some goal-oriented focusing next. Right after I have a cup of tea and take my morning walk. J
 October 9, 2007
Nolan had his first birthday last weekend! He spent the day laughing, playing peek-a-boo, hugging everyone, and toddling between open arms. He’s walking now—or running (!) for a few steps before he falls on his face, but he quickly picks himself up and tries again.
I love to watch him try new things, so fearlessly and joyfully. He knows that someone is always there to catch him, give him a kiss, and set him on his path again. He is learning to trust that the universe is a safe and supportive place, full of love.
The root chakra (first chakra) is all about the power that comes from knowing that you are supported, valued, and cherished by members of your family or tribe. For me, the yoga asana that tests my ability to trust and also sets my spirit free is the backbend—the Wheel Pose. It is a wonderful stretch. At first, I had to have some assistance. It had been many (many!) years since childhood when I spent hours a day doing acrobatic handsprings all across the front yard. (Why did I stop? Did I suddenly feel too old to look that foolish? That’s a question I wish I could answer).
Last summer, a teacher stood on either side of me and let me fall backwards into the Wheel Pose. It was wonderful!!! Once I felt that sense of being supported, my spine had no trouble remembering how to bend into that position. I had no physical difficulty—all I needed was to feel supported and to TRUST. Here is a snapshot by my friend (thank you, Judy!). If we had a sound track of this moment, you would hear me laughing.
 September 20, 2007
This is no zoom lens photo—I was standing inches away from this peacock. He was a visitor here and became an old friend. Apparently, he followed a flock of wild turkeys to our home. His unexpected arrival was a balm to my spirit. At that time, in the spring of 2006, my mother was dying. To look out my window and see this beautiful creature looking back at me…well, it felt like a miracle. Even when he woke me up in the middle of the night with his eerie call, I felt so grateful for this bird. His presence was a gift. When he left, many months later, I had to learn another lesson in letting go.
In case you wonder, the idea of letting go is the yogic idea that I am exploring in this blog entry. Some call it letting go and letting God. Some call it surrender, or non-attachment. Whatever you call it, it is all about releasing your sense of control and learning to embrace the unknown.
We are given many companions in this life, and one of mine happened to be a very mystical bird—self-confident, sometimes clownish, and always a delight to the senses. Peacocks traditionally symbolize the linking of past, present, and future and the awakening of clairvoyance. Most certainly, his presence helped me get through my deepest grief over my mother. Perhaps he was a soul mate, in bird form. As Thomas Moore said, "A soul mate is someone to whom we feel profoundly connected, as though the communication and communing that take place between us were not the product of intentional efforts, but rather a divine grace. This kind of relationship is so important to the soul that many have said there is nothing more precious in life."
To find a person (or a bird) with whom you share such a profound energetic connection is a rare thing—indeed, there may be nothing more precious in life. And yet sometimes, for mysterious reasons, we must let it go. I'm still working on it... maybe I'll come to grips with it soon. Because, to tell you the truth, sometimes I'd really love to look outside and see this magnificent bird asleep in our trees again.
I am often accused of having a magical view of life. I do understand why people are skeptical about my grasp on reality because I did live in a cardboard house, for heaven’s sakes. But when magical things actually happen, how can anyone doubt?
 September 16, 2007
First blog entry. I'm still learning how to use this software and so anything could happen. It's a miracle that I was able to figure out how to insert this photo of Nolan and me. Now, I need to save it and see what it looks like... back in a minute...
...wow...I did it. Or, as Collin used to say when he was 3 years old, "My did it." This blogging idea might turn out to be fun. Being a very right-brained person, with almost no computer geek archetype in me, I feel rather pleased with this little victory.
Speaking of right brain versus left brain, we discussed that idea quite often during Yoga Teacher Training. One of the things that is hoped for as you develop your yoga practice is "balance"--and balance is a lot more than physical. Balancing your intuitive right brain with your analytical left brain...balancing your female aspect of self with your male aspect of self...and simply learning how to balance your energy all day long...you get the idea. Balance is a huge topic in yoga. And the wonderful thing is that there are so many asana (yoga poses) that help you become more balanced. One of the best and easiest asana for balance is the Tree Pose. I am still working on my Tree, just like I am still working on my balance.
Speaking of balance, look at Nolan! He is learning how to walk. Next month, he will be one year old. What an amazing year.
Okay, more thoughts next week. I'll try to keep blogging once a week, now that I'm getting the hang of this.
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