the here and now

goals, goals, goals, goals (please sing that in your head to the tune of Jay-Z's Girls, Girls, Girls, Girls.)  I love them. You know that by now. I love a to do list, a plan, an achievement. As the year comes to an end its only natural to reflect on where we’ve been, where we’re going. Buy into the hype that you need a resolution for 2015. What is your year going to be about? What will you achieve? How will you be different? I started to think as 2014 is wrapping up where all this goal setting is getting me.

I know it gets me thinking about the past. A lot. And planning for the future. Even more. Neither of these are really what I want. Be present, stay centered, live in this moment. That's what yoga preaches to us right? Yet, here I am bouncing myself between my past and my future, stopping on my mat in between on occasion. I can do it on my mat, so I know it’s possible for me. I get on the mat and for that hour or so I stop. I’m just present. Whether I’m teaching or practicing I don’t leave that room.

I do have those moments where I look around and think, "Thank you God. This is pretty perfect." It happens often, but I have a hard time staying there. I say thanks and then I start to plan how to make it happen again instead of hanging in that moment of pleasure, extending it, savoring it.

2014 was an incredible year for me and I am so grateful for every single moment of it. I learned more about myself this year than I ever have before; I’ve come to realize just how much more I want to learn about myself.

I can't say I’m not setting goals for 2015. I’m not just going in, seeing where the chips may fall, and then loving my life. I haven’t grown quite that way this year, I made a goal for 2015. I don’t know that I’ll ever be a person who doesn’t set goals, but I know that I can set a goal that gets me going more in the direction I want to be headed.

I sat down over the weekend and talked with one of the smartest, most accomplished people I know about goal setting. They might be even crazier than I am about schedules and goals. I knew having a conversation with them was going to bring me clarity about what 2015 has for me. As we sat talking about what our year would be like, I settled into exactly what my goals for this year are. I’m not splitting it up into work, personal, teaching, like I have in the past.

This year is going to be about enjoying the moment I’m in. Feeling that satisfaction I’ve been trying to hunt down. Figuring out what kind of space I want to take up. Following my heart and my gut even when it terrifies me.

2015 is going to kick ass.

Namaste,
Rachel

transition

Transitions. That moment in handstand when you engage your fingertips and start to bend your elbows. You're either about to look like the coolest, most graceful yogi, or come tumbling onto your face.

Last Friday night I was in a class playing around with a transition when I started to lose my balance. I should mention something at this point in the story,  I was in the front row about 6 inches from a mirror. I started to do the right things, use my finger tips, engage my core, press through my heels, but there was no saving me. I went full throttle into the mirror. Then came sliding down onto the ground like a cartoon, landing with an "oomph." "Are you OK?" my teacher had seen the entire thing. "Yep, I'm good." I was hysterically laughing. What else can you do in that situation? (As a side note I have a pretty badass eyebrow bruise to show for this feat of submission to gravity.)

It was such a perfect mirror of my life right now. Just when I though I was going to stick that landing, here I am sliding down the mirror.  I'm working on moving, adjusting my priorities, figuring out what exacting sticking the landing is going to look like for me. The hardest part about this transition is I have no idea. No idea where I'm landing, no idea how to land, no idea what the landing is supposed to look like. This just might be the first time in my life that's true for me... so that's scary.



I am a planner. I don't just want to know what I'm doing for the rest of the day, what am I doing April 18? Not knowing what the future holds is terrifying to me. I don't want to say I'm calculated because there is a connotation to calculated that is negative, but I'll tell you everything I do is written in a planner at least a week ahead of time. If you want to make plans with me, act accordingly.

I realize how crazy this is. I realize spontaneity is beautiful; waking up and doing whatever you feel like doing that day is the perfect way (for some people) to spend their Sunday. I am not that person. I feel unstable and anxious not having a plan.

So, the past month or so has been a real challenge. I'm trying to feel comfortable in those moments where I'm not sure what's going to happen or how I'm supposed to get there.

Am I feeling any more satisfaction? Shockingly- yes. Even when I'm not sure how I'm going to land I am positive that even if I go catapulting into the mirror, I'll look bad ass with that bruise.

namaste,
Rachel

unsettled

 I've been in a bit of a rut of late, so I've been searching.

Searching for how to make my self happier, more fulfilled, the best version of myself.

A few weeks ago I was in a yoga class and the teacher started talking about santosha. It was as if an explosion happened in my head. "That's it," I thought, "That's what I'm missing." Santosha is the sanskrit word for contentment, satisfaction, fulfillment. Its a word that has always resonated with me - if nothing else what I want most for myself is satisfaction. For a while I thought about it all the time when I practiced, it was my intention, what I meditated on for months. At the end of each class, and even throughout the day, I would think to myself, "Yes, I am satisfied."

And then I started to let it go. I didn't think of it as frequently, it drifted and dwindled. At some point I forgot about it all together. I became absorbed with other things, life got busy, it got complicated, and I stopped concerning myself with myself.

So weeks ago when a teacher mentioned santosha again it hit me deep. I haven't been feeling that settled feeling that to me is santosha in a while. I did all the wrong things, I blamed every element around me for my unrest. I sunk deeper into the feeling that I couldn't be satisfied. I had begun to worry that the unhappiness I've been feeling might not be something I can shake. I had let that go on for months, never working on the root of the unrest: myself.

I'm someone who's almost always in a good mood. I love to laugh and smile. Of late everything has felt forced. I feel like a shadow of my regular happy self. I see pictures of myself smiling with sadness in my eyes. I cried during the entire last half of a yoga class last week (those hip openers man).

The biggest problem with feeling like you're dwindling is how hard it is to find yourself again. If you catch it before its too deep it seems like you can bounce back. I shot down that rabbit hole and found myself so deep in I forgot who I am. And I know now that's my own fault, no one forced me, no outside force is responsible for how I feel.

Now comes the real discomfort, even deeper than the unrest I've been feeling, now I have to go deal with it. I'm being gentle with myself, but I'm also engaging in what is most uncomfortable for me. I am letting myself feel lonely, feel exposed. It sucks. But I know it won't for long.

Namaste,

Rachel

yogi friends

I'm not exactly the friendliest looking girl you've ever run into. My friends (I swear some people have managed to get over the first impression) lovingly tell me I have "resting bitch face." I see people come in and out of the yoga studio and everyone seems to know each other, they're all buds. No one talks to me.

One of my favorite parts about traveling is popping into little yoga studios along the way, seeing what different city's yoga are like: what kind of music do they listen to, what cool moves are they doing that I don't know yet. When I'm in one of these out of towner studios I can always manage to strike up a convo with the people at the front desk or with the instructor after class. I don't as easily make conversation with the other people practicing; I'm trying to get a feel for what the studio is like. Does everyone come in quietly and lay on their mats? Is music playing and are people chatting? By the time I've figured all this out people seem to be into their routines and I have a hard time breaking in.

At my own home studio I have my buds that I come to class with and I get pretty absorbed talking to them. Or if I come alone I don't strike up conversations with people. I see it happening around me so I've started to think about why that is. I've always told myself that practicing in the studio I teach in is a little weird. People look at me, a teacher, and expect things from me. They expect me to do advanced asana, not take child's pose, not drink water, not get tired. It makes me all strange and uncomfortable. Now, I have no idea if any of this is true, but that's my inner monologue.

I think the fact of the matter is I'm a little shy. Striking up a conversation with random people isn't easy for me. I'm the kind of girl who works with my office door closed. I prefer a dinner party to going to a club. I like tight intimate relationships.

As I've watched all these people around me chatting and laying out their yoga accouterments, I started to think about whether yoga is the place that I want to be making friends. The answer was a quick and obvious yes. These yogis are totally my kind of people, after work they want to sweat, on the weekends they schedule going out around class, they spend their money on weekend retreats and juice cleanses.

So I did something uncomfortable. I sat down in class a few weeks ago and asked the girl next to me about the shirt she was wearing. We talked for 10 minutes before class started and after class exchanged a hug and numbers with a promise to grab coffee soon. Painless. I've been having those experiences almost every class now for weeks. And you know what? I'm having more fun at yoga (as if I even believed that was possible), feeling less like I have a role to fulfill as a teacher, and growing my circle of yogi friends. Pretty dope.


namaste,
Rachel 

if you don't have something nice to say... don't say anything at all

A friend and I were discussing the other day a co-worker that has a bad attitude. We were joking that you would think someone in the yoga world would just be happy and yoga blissed out all the time, but unfortunately this person isn't.  I remarked that it is so much easier to be nice than to be mean. I made this comment to my friend in passing.  Days later she and I were talking again and she brought up what I said and told me it had really stuck with her.

It is so much easier to be nice than to be mean or angry. 

Think about it. When you are angry you get worked up. You are unproductive because you are spending your time and brain power thinking about how you were wronged- a driver cut you off, your server is rude, your boss hates you. You can feel the pressure building in your chest, the anxiety, the heat rising in your skin.

Guess what? These are all effects on you, not the person or thing that "wronged" you. So the only person suffering is you. I've held this belief for a very long time. Its a completely selfish idea. If I get upset because of what's going on with another person I am the person that suffers, not the person who did something rude or hurtful, so its easier to not get bent out of shape.

Now, this is a great idea in theory. But, reality check- I'm not perfect, neither are you, so we're going to get upset. We're human, we have feelings. Its been a constant struggle for me to not take things personally.

I'm the kind of girl that if I recommend somewhere for you to get a manicure and you don't like it, I feel personally responsible. I recognize that this is irrational, I didn't give you manicure, I'm not at fault, but I still feel awful.

Likewise I have a very hard time when someone insults me. Even if its the kind of snide comment that isn't really meant to dig deep, it does. A comment about the height of my heels can leave me reeling for a week, thinking of the smart comments I should have made in the moment, speculating about whether there was any truth in the insult.

I know how silly these things can sound, but I also imagine that each of you also has a sensitive spot that when someone pokes hurts. If not, tell me how you've managed to brush these comments off, I'm still trying to learn!

I'll tell you what I've been doing trying to do. I've been nice. As nice as I possibly can be. And not sarcastic, sugary nice, just nice. If a person makes a snide comment I am trying to realize that comment isn't about me, its about them, the tough day they are having, the fight they had with their mom, whatever else is going on in their life. The reality is, its easier for me to be nice than to be upset, be hurt, or be angry.

In the end, I'm taking the lazy way out, which is just fine with me.

Namaste,
Rachel 

SITI's and ICDA's

Whenever I invite someone to my yoga class their inevitable reaction is, "Oh, I can't do yoga I'm not flexible." Of course you're not! You don't go to yoga! If you go to yoga, then you get flexible. This is a mentatlity that I too am guilty of, I'm not good at something so I don't want to do it.

Maybe I've been thinking about this more because I've been teaching more beginners classes lately. I am amazed by what I see as the two categories of beginners, there are the "I can't do anything's" and the "Sure, I'll try its'."  What I'm about to tell you shouldn't come as any surprise. The "Sure, I'll try it's" advance in their practice much more quickly, that's a mind and body reaction.

These yogis, the "SITI's" already have their minds on the mat in a place of non-judgement for themselves and an excitement about learning something exciting. They're ready to sweat their asanas off and maybe look a little silly while doing it. I had a fellow teacher come to my class last night and she said to me that she liked that I gave my students an opportunity to fail. I joke around a lot when I'm teaching and I'm the first to acknowledge that trying things at yoga also means failing at things. Before you pop up into crow, you're going to fall on your face in crow, I regularly fall over and I talk about it in class all the time. One of my beginner yogis did just that last night, she leaned forward, fell down, got back up and nailed her crow. She had permission to fall, and knew it was a possibility, so it wasn't such a big deal.

On the other hand some of the "ICDA's" just stood and watched her. So, sure they didn't fall, which I guess is technically good, but they are no closer to getting a difficult pose. Getting to a place of doing that cool yoga pose, or learning something new, or trying something you've never tried before, is a place of discomfort. We all know that soreness in your muscles is the fibers tearing and rebuilding stronger. I think when you learn anything it is accompanied with similar soreness, an acclimation period to your new skill or knowledge. If you give yourself that space to fail, to be sore, to not know, the possibility for what you can accomplish is endless.

I hope you can find a place in your life where you are holding back and push it a little. Play with your edge.

Namaste,
Rachel 

awestruck

I had an amazing opportunity this weekend to practice with some of my yoga heroes Briohny Smyth and her husband Dice Ilda-Klein at, where else but, Green Monkey.  They were two of the sweetest people I have ever met, and I loved every second of their class even when sweat was dripping in my eyes and up my nose. Yes, I was upside down enough that sweat had the opportunity to drip up my nose. This was a special class, not just because of how much time we spent on our hands instead of our feet but because of the level of the people practicing next to me. 

People were doing some cirque du soleil freaky stuff that mere mortals don't can't do. I won't even tell you what Dice and Briohny (who by the way is 5 months pregnant, gorgeous, and still doing handstands) were doing because it was the stuff that yoga deities are made of, but watch their videos and you'll have a good idea. Their version of giving variations sounded something like this: So, you're going to float into a handstand (I'M GOING TO WHAT?), you could then come down into a one legged crow, maybe you want to come back into handstand, and switch sides, maybe a one handed handstand, maybe you want to levitate, OK yogis get to it! Watching my fellow yogis float into poses with ease that I can only hope to one day shove myself into was inspiring.  

Its easy to look up at the beautiful people around you with contempt from your sweaty blob on the floor, but instead I looked up with wonder. These peeps were doing AMAZING things, and one day I'm going to do those amazing things. I had the perspective of a beginner again. I remembered what it feels like not to be able to do most things, to look around at everyone else, and feel that pang of jealousy that what comes so easily to them is the biggest challenge you have ever faced. 

I am incredibly guilty of not wanting to do things that I'm not good at. I was reminded of this the other day when my girlfriend asked me to guess what something was and I flat out refused. I had no idea, so I was bound to be wrong. Why bother to try if you are sure to fail? 

And yet I've never had this perspective with my yoga, I fall all the time in yoga. I tell my classes stories all the time of my yoga failures and I have no shame in them at all. I’ve talked before about how who you are on the mat is who you are in the world, but maybe for me that isn’t true. I think I’m might be a better version of myself on the mat than anywhere else. I am able to practice all of the qualities I most admire true effort, compassion, truth, grace, gratitude and surrender, with ease on the mat, not so much in life. Perhaps a little perspective shift is in order. Rather than let my day-to-day life choices be dictated by a fear of failure, I could take my yoga perspective off the mat and into the rest of my world. 

What if this week you challenged yourself to be a little more like your yoga (or running, cycling, zumba-ing, kickboxing, meditating, or whatever else you do) self and less fearful? 

Namaste,

Rachel