Posts tagged ‘yoga’

July 10, 2013

“collect all parts of yourself”

as you know this momma’s been suffering a wee bit. nothin’ catastrophic but no one orders post-partum depression off the menu (and for good reason).

the awesome news is that my self prescribed treatment plan includes yoga immersion and yoga works. so, yay.

the double yay is that whilst recently getting my ass handed to me in power yoga class, the teacher also gave me a serious pep talk. well, not just to me… i promise i’m not gonna be all nutty and claim that she knew what i was looking for but, common now, obviously the universe heard my call for help:

“when you feel caged in, uncomfortable and on the edge, don’t do anythingbe still, just be there in the discomfort, and make peace with what is. then, when you’re gathered, let the process find you” – jodie, yyoga, 07/03/2013.

i think it’s safe to say that no further explanation is required.

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June 23, 2013

“where the light falls”

june 21st was the longest day of the year and for me, it (almost) was. my body sore from a run the night before i felt tired, worn, and defeated: i was such a beginner again. not quite starting over, but kind of: the relapse in to not running and the bilateral sprains were both slowing me down, both causing me grief.

it didn’t help that my baby had woken up at four a.m. and despite nursing him and loving him he did not return to slumber; waking his brother and keeping me from sleep, as well. two tired boys and a beyond tired mother a good day does not make.

it’s not just that. it has felt long lately in other ways: the time inside our home less and less enjoyable, for reasons i cannot name and that may not actually even exist. my boys are delightful, my man is a miracle, and my life is bountiful but I have, for whatever reason, felt fraught-wrought with inner dissatisfaction, frustration, sourness – none of which i want to feel and all of which are taking me further from the kind of person / woman / mother that i aspire to be.

as it were, amidst my eldest’s preschool graduation, all-consuming efforts to ensure my boys became rested, and the general monotony of being at home, i overlooked that it was solstice. evidence, entirely, that i had lost sight of the light.

fortunately, saturday brought with it my spouse’s company, encouragement, and support. “yes, of course” he replied when i asked if i could go to yoga, “take some momma time”.

yoga is an activity that i practice for both physical and emotional fitness, you see. my body loves me for attending class, for taking the time to stretch it, strengthen it, and heal it. so does my mind. i always learn something from class, not just about my body, but of myself. it is a place where I can’t talk, and that’s good for me, and, instead, i hear the teacher, i hear my body, i hear my heart, and i actually listen.

instead of my usual digs, i showed up at a studio i hadn’t tried before, lahari yoga in north delta, b.c. the teacher, kim, was welcoming, warm, bright, and accessible and she facilitated a lovely flow class that did me (really) good.

in addition, she prefaced the class by acknowledging the meaning and value of the longest day, the one that i had felt but had forgotten. thank goodness she did. she discussed the role solstice has played across time and across civilization: ritual; ceremony; shrines, and highlighted that man had built a number of structures positioned, purposefully, to maximize exposure to the sun.

of course, this day is immediately followed by a shortening; a subtle dimming that sneaks up on us, finding us surprised come fall, come winter, when the sun is virtually hidden. this turn was also worthy of mention, she, presenting the concept of a half-year opportunity: to identify goals, focus on intention, and manifest resolutions for the next half of 2013.

i heard her. i heard her say half. i heard her at the beginning and i heard her throughout the class. the class that my funky mood so desperately, desperately needed. and, interestingly, everything she said, every instruction and every pose correction, made me think of running and where running would take me in the remaining year’s time.

this side of the solstice, we will begin the actual half marathon training. this side of solstice, i will run my first half marathon, right before my maternity leave comes to a close, a grand celebration of effort (in more ways than one). this side of solstice i will be better, for me and for them.

this side of solstice, i will run; i will chase the light.

May 26, 2013

good medicine

my family has just returned from a week away to tofino, a small and remote town on the west coast of vancouver island that serves as our home away from home.

sometimes, when driving in, and this trip was no exception, i realize what i seem to forget over and over: that this is where i went missing. it’s no one’s fault that we moved out so fast but, evidently, i wasn’t ready.

as it is now, life finds us well in vancouver, and we have a roundness and a wholeness to our life that we could not have achieved on the edge.  i remain confident that we made the right choice for our then son and now our plus one but my ghost lingers in that land, and i could almost hear pieces of me coming together as we drove further along, remnants of a spirit self lurking behind every curve of the treacherous highway and then surfacing, finding me.

my spouse drove us in steady, silent in thought and tapping his fingers to music we couldn’t hear, at ease in the familiar and soon to be in his family home, that of his family of origin- those that make him who he is and help explain some of what he has never been able to say.

my big boy, excited and anxious, desperate with anticipation to see “the tofino house” and the cousins that he adores and idolizes, played out every road trip cliche, asking every few minutes if we were there yet, begging for us to hurry, fighting sleep with repetitive movement like shaking his head, kicking his legs, rocking backwards and forward, and making obnoxious noises that he generously referred to as “songs”.

our precious baby, a living lesson in keeping an open heart and trusting those who love you, curiously looked at the passing scenery with an uninformed yet peaceful acceptance.

it seemed that all of us but our ever consistent baby behaved differently en route, gradually admitting to ourselves how much we miss living there and how right it feels to return.

we eventually arrived and unpacked- some baggage too. it was unintentional but the air, heavy with moisture, met my face and the release was immediate. then, on wednesday, a few days in, the release deepened. just like in yoga when the pose is enhanced by your breath alone.

my big boy had asked me on a date to the beach, just me and him, you see, and we went of course. he and i can’t get enough of that air- it brings us both to who we wish we could be, i think. he was down the path and soon knee deep in the water, and i, standing tall and facing the roar, was immediately overwhelmed with the sight of him free and unrestricted. both of us, made fresh, made clear, in mere moments.

it’s always been this way for me. same goes for him.

we spent his maternity leave in tofino and with hours and hours a day with nothing to do but love him, we found ourselves on long beach walks, almost everyday. not for nothing, either. tightly wound and full of complaint inside, my baby boy relaxed seconds after we closed the front door behind us, as did i. regardless of the weather, often near tempest, we were there, usually first thing in the morning before our moods could get ahead of us.

i remember walking with him mid winter in torrential rain, me in full rain gear and his stroller encased: a safe haven against the elements and his mother’s angst while she was making sense of her new life. it wasn’t an easy time. my first son was sensitive and particular and a lot of effort was required of me to keep his wails away. i sorted us both out over time, especially when i built in the beach ceremony- with waves and blood pulsing it all made sense somehow and i came to measure my parenting success on any one day if i achieved him getting rosy cheeks.

on crazy days, i thought that if he could face and take in enough of the storm that he’d be healthy, well raised, though i still don’t really know the details why. regardless, pushing him before me did us both good. i always returned from the treks breathing heavy and legs tingling, all my inner tumultuousness quieted by the louder chaos outside, and our days were calmer together, and brighter, optimistic even, having already conquered something, anything, that day.

this date day, all these years later, he was before me again. he had the same eyes, same look, and same vibe as he did when he was the most compact and intense version of himself but he’s matured so much now, and so have i. we made it. we made it through the dark, both emotional and literal, as tofino winters are not known to be luminous, and we made it all the way to another gorgeous life joining us on our journey of being born a family.

our morning at the beach was too soon over and, before we knew it, we all found ourselves on the ride home- marked by satisfaction and fatigue.

“are we there yet?”, he asked as we drove towards our permanent home. “i think so”, i answered.

May 4, 2013

booby and the beast

despite what the title may lead you to believe, this is a one man show.

just me. well, that’s not entirely true. i’m talking about me, the boobs, and the body odour.

it’s no secret that i’m a breast feeder (you can’t hide a chest this big even if you weren’t a milk factory), so that’s not the crazy. afterall, making milk is pretty cool and feeding your baby with your body is really special. not so special though? this time around, no matter what i do, i just can’t smell good.

i recognize what my body is doing: i’m stinkin’ it up animalistic style so my babe knows, via the science of scent, who is his mother. it’s like having my own honing device and that’s kinda nifty, actually. the only problem is that i am socially unacceptable for so many reasons already. and, it’s bad. at yoga class the other night i even offended myself…

the good news is, i treasure my babe so close so i’ll keep him there, getting all that good stuff, as long as i can. despite it being a taxing responsibility at times i would never choose to do it different (no judgement to those who do, of course). my body (and my emotional and psychological self) is capable of creating, carrying, v-birthing, and feeding my babe and, so, i do.

so, for now, as my sister-in-law melissa wisely stated, i will “revel in my son’s primal need for his mother and my body’s ability to nourish him” (and, while doing so, accept the beast factor supreme).

as for you, cut me some slack. i’m trying, i swear.

November 26, 2011

transformative practice

 thank you for soul vibes when the city feels alone, thank you for a needed break, when i don’t want to be at home. thank you for strengthening me, thanks for peace infusion too. thank you for bringing me into my body, a needed reminder, it’s true.

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