Sunday, December 8, 2013

Planting Seeds Tonight


We have to view darkness with greater respect, and learn to appreciate not only its capacity for destruction, but it's capacity for vitality, growth, and transformation - David Tracey
Planting seeds. I have never done this before, but tonight I decided to make a little vision board for the transformation, vitality, and growth that I want to witness. I am in a suitable place in my life to grow an entire new garden. I am also mindful to take into great consideration the parts of me that I have tried to suppress in the past. I am giving my shadows the respect that they deserve. An example: vanity - or my personal stigma and struggle with the idea of vanity. On a core level, I don't believe there's anything wrong with desiring certain materialistic things, or dipping your feet into a certain kind of indulgence i.e fashion, expensive dining, and so forth - I certainly am very accepting of it in other people, and even view it was an expression of oneself - why not myself. I find that I hold myself up to some unrealistic standard, and am hard on myself for certain types of behavior that I barely observe in others. I am not holier than thou, and must stray away from those tendencies and notions within myself. 

"Our civilization is courting disaster. By refusing to accept that the human psyche is complex and paradoxical, we have no way of reconciling the opposing forces that gather momentum in our psychic interior. By clinging to ideals of goodness, by assuming we can remain innocent, we have no way of integrating the dark and ambivalent." - David Tracey

All of what I am reading right now from a book that Lionda gifted me with in Bali is speaking loud and clear, and I sense that the timing is immaculate. These concepts that David Tracey touches on is the foundation upon which I built this blog - the idea that we are not one sided, the idea that we are fragmented and dualistic. In the yoga community [which is clearly something that rattles me, as I frequently return to this subject] we seem to repress the dark side of us, the beast, the monster, the shadows, the artist, whatever you may call it, and hyper-focus on the "light." However, I genuinely believe that if we neglect the "dark" parts of ourselves, we will be destroyed by outbursts of irrationality and unreason. We need to understand the forces that arise in ourselves. That is why I continue to challenge myself to be sincere and open, not just about my triumphs but also about my trials and tribulations. I am whole, but my whole is mosaicked, diverse. And I want to create a framework where all parts of me are invited, explored, understood, transformed, elevated -  never suppressed, ignored, or misguided. 

"Our time requires a fundamental rebirth of the dark side as cosmic principle and not merely as a nuisance to be expunged." -  David Tracey



[...] the most important act for the future is to become aware of our darkness, to lower our moral sights, to resist the desire to be perfect, to recognize our complexity, to become critical of conventional morality, and to search for new balance that includes our dark side as well as the light." - David Tracey



Tuesday, December 3, 2013

New Release with Yoga Today! :) Exciting stuff!



Thursday, November 28, 2013

I cry.



My experiences have felt so fragile this last month that I have retreated into myself. It's become increasingly difficult to externalize where I am on my path, as sometimes I am not sure I have a clue. Thus, the silence. Oh, the silence has been good to me... I'd rather be silent than dishonest, or insincere, I think.

On my plane to Perth, Australia, a little girl wailed the entire flight. It was anything but a cry. It was as if this two years old girl was mourning death; loud, piercing, aching screams. At times I became frightened, and closed my eyes and reminded myself to breathe deeply. Her wails made it seem like the metal we were in was descending, like she might know something.

I don't think I have ever heard a child cry like this - and certainly not for three hours straight. Her throat must have been raw, and I know crying can be exhausting. While it became familiar and less alarming, I began to observe the sounds with a sense of curiosity. What compels a child to cry like this? I don't think she was in physical pain. Her parents didn't seem stressed, just really really really amazingly patient and calm. Maybe she was processing something, maybe it was an expression, maybe her ears were popping and the pressure in her head was unfamiliar.

I started to think about crying. I have so much ego around crying. I've been working hard on getting past that for years, y-e-a-r-s, because my intellectual side understands that holding back my emotions is not healthy for my spiritual anatomy. However, it's so, so, so freaking challenging. Whether we recognize the unfortunate affect it has on us, our society favours the concept of strength vs softness. We confuse courage with picking up arms, and cowardice with laying them down.

However, that is a learned concept. It's a construct of external conditioning. And because babies and young children have yet to grasp this concept, there is no shame around it. They wail, they sob, they release. And since I believe that at birth we are closer to our elevated selves, I wonder if there is something to this. I wonder if we, as adults, could also benefit from wailing, sobbing, crying - more often. I think about all the times I swallow my tears, or my hurt, or my pain, and I wonder now ... where in my body did you go pain, hurt, and un-cried tears?What organ, what part of me now carries this burden?






Turning 27, on the road.





Intellectually, I understood that a sense of loss was inevitable, but never could I have predicted the ache and longing that I sometimes feel for home and/or the souls that define home. The irony is that one of (the many) reasons I ventured off was because a tiny seed in me never quite felt AT home. With each sunrise, I became increasingly reluctant to grow roots, and thrive, period. Envision the molasses, the thickness of the stagnancy.

To not wilt, I had to leave.

Yes, here I am, putting the overbearingly private facet of my cosmic personality to the side to say: I royally MISS; sometimes there is such an overwhelming sense of longing that the ache almost seems unbearable – especially when I feel all too far removed from everything and everyone. The lessons I am learning are real, raw, and ruthless - one can certainly come at me with a million cliché sayings; knock yourself out in the comments, if you fancy. I’ve already considered and meditated on them all, and am slowly treading from an understanding-self to a knowing-self.

Needless to say, deep inside I was somewhat rattled of the idea of being away from everyone, as I turned, you know, old-er. [ha-ha] I feared I would unwillingly become engulfed by loneliness. But there you all were.

There you all were!

I certainly don’t favor crying in public, but there I was, at some random Japanese restaurant in Bali, face flooded with salty tears, as all of you showered me with love. In all sincerity, I was an emotional storm, a hot mess - thundering with sadness that all of you were not with me, yet simultaneously lighting up and exploding with pure happiness to be able to see all of your bright faces. I was beyond surprised, and it was the BEST surprise. Best surprise I think my heart has ever felt.

I am so grateful for every single one of you. Mami Rudite, Dadi JimTommy, Farfar Tom and Farmor Karen, Vecteev Alfons un Vecmamma, DavidEmmie, Shanti, FrankieMichael, Jess, JessicaWooShahrazadKellyKamilleRasmusSimonNatalieCourtneyKristiine, and Tanja


Thank you for making, yes, m.a.k.i.n.g my life, for loving me, and accepting my love.Lionda, not even Kings have what we have. It is precious. It is irreplaceable, I am grateful and I vow to nurture it with utmost care for the rest of my life. Paldies par vakardienu, un katru dienu, dupsis fruktis.











Saturday, November 2, 2013

Bali, Indonesia

Photo Credit: Lionda Liepina

"I was in the pool today, by myself, with not a soul around - head throbbing, hung over because I think last night I had a beer for every worry... and I was playing with this plumeria that had fallen into the water ... Playing, twirling it around, dizzy, falling under its spell ... And for a moment, I was there, truly there, magnificently present, in a pool, in Bali, Indonesia, living out the last days of being 26 - my biggest worries being uncertainty and finances, which are two things most people, everywhere, generically, feel burdened with... Even somewhere at a sterile grocery store behind the Orange Curtain. And in that moment I remembered how fucking okay, how fucking beautiful everything is. But those moments, like waves, come and go. That capacity to see past the bullshit, and see the truth; life as it is, without the veils, is there. But I don't want to just go there from time to time, I want to practice and one day, be IN that space every waking, every breathing, pulsing moment of my life."

An excerpt from an e-mail I sent to a friend recently. I think it sums up my experience, and my yoga practice, in this moment in life, rather adequately. And that's that. Cheers.

Fireproof

The National - Fireproof (Unofficial Video) from David Dean Burkhart on Vimeo.

Friday, October 25, 2013

Must Read - great yoga article by Karin Burke

Singapore, Singapore - today is our last day here, and we are finally off to Indonesia. 


This is by far one of my favourite "yoga articles" circulating on the internet, written by Karin Burke, and I feel like I want to share it with everyone.  It spoke to me immensely, and what Burke so eloquently writes about is a vital aspect of the path that all yogis need not forget. On this journey, I myself have had so many different emotions arise, and this piece was a reenforcement of what I already know deep inside: to not fear any of them, to look them in the eye, and face myself in all my light, and all my shadows. To not be afraid to go there, and see all my facets.

This is exactly why I am here. 

A few days ago, while on the road, we were met with another unexpected detour. While in Singapore, in transit to Indonesia, we were told that we would not be allowed on our flight (politics shmolotics).

Lionda and I just stood in the middle of the airport and held each other ... for a long time. We were bloody exhausted, and it was almost as if we were holding each other up. In fact - and this may be slightly on the esoteric side but - I could almost feel eyes on us, as if the Universe was observing, and softening with our love.

It went beyond the flight trouble. I won't go into all the factors, and details - there's no need to put more attention on anything or anyone that was weighing us down - but needless to say, it was felt hauntingly taxing.

Yet, simultaneously, as we moved through all that thick molasses of unexpected bullshit, negativity, and unaware human beings, I felt myself richer, and more rooted in all those that I love, that love me, and my trust in the Universe.

It still doesn't really what to make of it all. And that's okay. I give myself permission to feel every inch of my rage, fear, sadness, and fatigue. And I give myself permission to be excited to finally be getting out of Singapore.

Adios Singaporean Amigos.




Rage, fear, sadness, fatigue. The yoga of darkness.


medusa“Emotion is the chief source of all becoming-conscious. There can be no transforming of darkness into light and of apathy into movement without emotion.” -Carl Jung
I once had a student who started to drift away and began to look sheepishly apologetic when she did come to class.  She avoided my eyes and had an invisible wall around her mat.  She used to ask questions or chat after class; now she was the first out of the room and gone from the studio by the time I’d left my mat.  Eventually, though, we did talk a little.  She told me things were busy.  She talked about her kids.  Then she looked somewhere into the middle distance  and said she didn’t know, really; yoga just wasn’t working any more.
Sometimes, she said, all I feel in child’s pose is anger and disappointment.
Yoga has a corner market on feel good words.  I recently had a massage therapist tell me we were both in the ‘feel good industry’.   The promise of ‘enlightenment’ tends to make us think we will be more spiritual, and this somehow means we’ll be a little less freakish about time, our kids, our money.  There is truth to this.  Yoga can show us how good it feels to be alive.
But yoga will also show us exactly how badly we feel.  Usually, when honest emotion starts to come up, students leave.  They skip class or decide yoga wasn’t what they wanted.  They say ‘it’s not working any longer’.  The emotion itself keeps them away; they’re ‘not in the mood’, ‘too busy’,  or ‘too depressed to move’.  They will  - trust me, this is real – feel guilty for feeling so crummy when others are just trying to get their savasana on.
This doesn’t indicate that the yoga isn’t working, but that it IS.  The end isn’t this negativity, this disappointment.  But negativity is part of the path, and it has to be gone through if you want to understand it, to understand yourself, at all.  If you don’t, you’ll be shutting down half of your experience of life, and probably the best strengths you’ll ever find.  If you don’t, you’ll continue to skip, overcompensate, repeat, and lull.  You’ll segue irritation into nicety, stuff it, and it will erupt later as rage toward an intimate or yourself.
Most of us have spent the majority of our lives stuffing and repressing our feelings, rationalizing them, avoiding them, or sublimating them into exercise, food, cigarettes, television, shallow relationships.  Women are taught not to feel anger because it’s not nice, not feminine (or too feminine and bitchy, emotional, hormonal and out of control).  Men are supposed to feel competence, all the time.  In our efforts to feel better, many of us start  shutting it off, wholesale, in favor of pop psychology or easy spirituality.  It’s called spiritual bypass.  It’s an attempt to avoid painful feelings, unresolved issues, or truthful developmental needs with such words as ‘everything happens for a reason’,  ’god’s ways are not our ways’, or ‘choose happiness’.
There will be a yoga class, someday, online or at your local studio, where your teacher will start singing. She’ll say ‘exhale’ as if there’s something orgasmic about it.  She might allude to the goodness of your heart, your hamstrings, or the light inside.lions-breath
If you are like me, this may make you clench your bandhas like a fist.  There may come a day you lower down into child’s pose, “sweet, receptive, safe” child’s pose and feel nothing but boredom, irritability, and dis-ease.  You keep lifting your head off the mat, looking at the clock.  There may come a day your brain starts swearing at the lovely yoga teacher saying something vapid about love in your newly blossomed chakra.
Here is the thing.  Yoga is not about bliss, but about honesty.  Spirituality is not certainty, but the longing of the heart.  Enlightenment is not ‘letting go’ of bad feelings, but understanding them, what they’re doing to us, and how they are expressed in the body.  Non-harming and forgiveness are not about feeling generous or big enough (bigger than and condescending), but knowing the difficulty of right actions and assuming responsibility for the difficult.  Forgiveness often comes directly out of acknowledging how bloody bitter we are.  Love is not joy, all the time. Sometimes, love hurts. Love is raw.
Yoga is a love story.  Not the fluffy, romanticized love story, but the real one.  The kind that leaves you changed.
Emotions are doorways, ways in.  The goal is not to exist without shadows, to become so spiritual we no longer feel fat, bored, envious, or impatient.  The goal is to swallow hard as we take on willingness to go into the dark.
Because yoga asks you to work with both your body and your mind, the inevitable result is going to be messy.  There will be times the body itself will start in on anger, hot and fast, trembly, without the reasoning mind having a clue what is going on.  There will be days the boredom or loneliness seem so sharp they may actually wound.  There will be five thousand ways your mind will tell you it isn’t worth it, it won’t work, that love is not real.
Yet, yoga has probably already given you a clue to this.  You’ve probably already felt how love – whether it be romantic or ethical, compassion, right living, making a solidity of your name – is the only thing that is real.  The highest and best in human beings is subtle, mysterious, and tied directly to the shadows.  Life is both unbearably cruel and devastatingly sweet, often at the same time.
The shadows will show up.  Go there.  Apathy, acedia, what Christian mystics called desolation, existentials call despair, moves when we move toward it.  It isn’t the passage of time that heals us, but the passing through experiences.
There are hundreds of things telling us to ‘get over it’, to ‘think positively’, or to ‘let it go’.  Be wary of these as the roadside distractions that they are.
Yoga is the love story where in things fall apart.  God moves away, often at the same time he takes away the ground.  First goes this, then goes that.  Gone are the thrill of the first months of yoga class, the ease of learning something new every time you walked in the door.  Gone is the schedule that allowed you class three times a week.  Gone is the strength in your shoulders, the ability to keep on a diet.  Gone is the confidence of conversion.
And then a small movement in the heart.  And then two.
 







Sunday, September 29, 2013

Catching Up


A day after I wrote my last post, I found out that our stay in Latvia had to be extended. I won't go into detail, but in short, the matter was unexpected and we were forced to entirely re-route. The process proved to be rather taxing -- as those things usually are. When we finally did make it on a plane to South East Asia, it was taking us to Hanoi, Vietnam - about 1500km from our original destination point. And as we sardine-packed ourselves into a rusty minibus to the city center, and the heat, and smells, and the stomach-wrenching sound of the girl vomiting in front began to rapidly engulf us, Lionda and I just looked at each other and smiled. Hello Vietnam.

We spent the following week traveling down the coast of Vietnam to Cambodia (Ha Noi ---> Da Nang/ Há»™i An ---> Ho Chi Minh City ---> Phnom Phen). In total, we spent over 60 hours on trains, sleeping buses, taxis, and so forth. It felt a bit intense at first, constantly moving from place to place, but the unexpected detour turned out to be surprisingly fruitful and educational. With everything behind us now, there is a sense of appreciation for life's little complications. I feel grateful to have seen this unique, beautiful, and buzzing country, which otherwise we may have missed.

I can say that we especially enjoyed the food experience in The Old Quarter in Hanoi, where an array of low tables and plastic stools color every street corner. We even had fried noodles and Tiger Beer for breakfast. That is one of my fondest memories -- perhaps because it was so unlike us, and a reflection of our unwitting appetite to experience the food culture in its authentic form. We also took delight in the historic city of Há»™i An.

 
This is a video of us eating street food style breakfast in Hanoi, Vietnam.

 Now we are on Koh Rong island in Cambodia. Life is relaxed here, and most days Lionda and I read, write, or research future ventures. We've started to regularly practice together. Unless the weather conditions don't permit it, we wake up with the roosters and either head to the beach or a little vacant bungalow deck that we have discovered, and do about a 60-75 minute practice. I still don't have a mat, but plan on getting one at soon as I find the opportunity. When I was in Siem Reap, I visited the Peace Cafe, where I took yoga last time I visited Cambodia. They had the cheap (think Target-style) mats there for $18. Looking back at it, I should have just gotten one - it would have been better than nothing - but in the moment, it just seemed ludicrous.

So that was my best effort in summarizing the past month -- which really has felt like 6 months, due to the density of each day. I will make a better effort to stay more consistent.







Friday, August 30, 2013

Hometown Glory



 “Your true home is in the here and the now.”  Thich-Nhat-Hanh

I have less than a week in Latvia. It happened so fast, and as my beautiful friend Shanti said on the phone this morning, now is the perfect time for me to strengthen my ability to stay relentlessly present. I try to not think about the next day all too much, let alone next week, or I begin to feel overwhelmed. I've had numerous people ask me what time my flight is on Wednesday, and I smile and say, how am I to know? - that is next week.

I wish for more slow mornings like this, but I know that this is the last one. The next couple of days are booked with relatives, dinners, a wedding, last moment errands, other miscellaneous events, the travel in between, and so forth. I recall that first morning, almost 30 days ago: I was sipping my coffee at Lionda's parents house, and utterly bare of obligations. It is almost odd how quickly that turned around, almost as if to toy. 

In the end, my time here has felt somewhat marathon-like, but I guess that is to be expected when you wait three years to come home, and try to play catch up in 30 days. To all those that I saw for a very short burst, or did not get to see at all, I hope that they know I care. My heart has been a little restless, and the only thing consoles, is the hope that people understand. 

It's always the same for me here. The first week I feel bluntly tense, the second week I begin to ease, the third week I love it, and during the last, I begin to wonder, what if. Now my heart is filled with an array of royal jewels. As I venture into my next stage of my journey, I have to remind myself of this pattern. Give everything some time. And maybe there will light,  maybe there will be glory. And with that I am off to finish the last stretch. I hear that the last six miles of a marathon are about the same in effort as the first twenty - hopefully it's not entirely an escalating crescendo of stress.



My grandpa and grandpa in Suntazi, Latvia.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

I am trying.

It's my second morning in Denmark. This morning my Dadi Jimbo flew back to California. We spent all of yesterday together, visiting Danish castles, sleeping by the sea, eating ice cream, and being lazy. I woke up today, in my beautiful room, and more than usual, felt the strong underlying current of change. I miss the company already, but am grateful for the short time we had, and I am happy to know that my mother will soon have her 007 by her side. A new life begins for my parents, as for the first time they will have the Hilltop house entirely to themselves. Their children scattered all of the world...


It's 9am, and I am having a hard time kick starting this day. I had planned to go for a run in the morning, but  my achilles still aches from the 10K Nike Charity Run that Lionda and I part took in 2 days ago in Riga. I also like my room, and part of me just wants to listen to James Vincent McMorrow, take in the sounds of Copenhagen outside my big windows, and slow down. The last couple of days have felt like a marathon.

I think while I am here, I will try to keep any defined plans to a minimum, and just go with the flow. The only firm commitment I have today is to meet my little brother, Thomas, at his new school at 13:45pm. That gives me a little bit of time for whatever I like, and I think I might just try to take a class from yogatoday.com. I don't have a mat, but the wood floors here seem nice enough, and I am getting used to the discomfort of being studio-less.

 My last asana-practice was at my friends apartment in Riga, the day before the 10k. I was off and felt desperate to quite down my thoughts. No one was home, and I gave her floor a quick sweep, put on t-shirt, and my running shorts, and got into a downward facing dog and started breathing. It was actually a great practice, aside from the fact that my hands started slipping the instant that I got warmed up. I practiced for about 40 minutes and it made a world of a difference. All things considered, I think I am doing decent with the asana aspect of my practice. I am trying.

I also want to find some time to begin my new book, "Winter Tales" by Isak Dinesen. Dadi Jimbo and I visited Karen Blixen's Museum yesterday (http://blixen.dk/), and he gave this book to me.

I leave you with some photos from my stay in Denmark thus far. Every time I visit Denmark, I fall more and more in  love with it. Perhaps one day, when I am finally ready to grow roots and settle down, this is the place I could commit to and call home 4.0. I






Daddi Jimbo and I












Tuesday, August 20, 2013

23 Signs You're Secretly An Introvert


When I took the Myers-Briggs at 25, and it told me I was an introvert, I thought I had done something wrong on the test. All my life I had been labeled as an extrovert. I called some friends, and 90% of them agreed - it was a mistake. I'd loved theater, and had enjoyed all my public speaking classes in college. There was no way, plus, I didn't want to be an introvert!!!
However, one very close and wise friend, agreed with Myers-Briggs. We discussed it for weeks over coffee, and over time I became more open-minded to the idea. A year later, accepting that part of myself, has brought a lot of peace. What I often genuinely want and need, makes more sense now, and I am more likely to not go against it.

“Introversion is a basic temperament, so the social aspect -- which is what people focus on -- is really a small part of being an introvert," - Dr. Marti Olsen Laney, psychotherapist and author of "The Introvert Advantage.

Naturally, I got a kick out of finding this article and wanted to share.

23 Signs You're Secretly An Introvert

Monday, August 12, 2013

August 13th, 12:42am. Distractions.

In the starkness of the night, on the last train home tonight, it hit me. All the history, all the bad blood, all the smeared mascara in the world cannot undo kindness.

What you thought was this heart going to war, was in fact, a masterpiece. Unwittingly, he built what could not be undone; a red scarf for all those raging bulls.

What you thought was damaged, in fact, still works. He kept it safe, put away. Oiled and smooth, like it's still 16. It can skip a beat. It can loose its breath. It doesn't think, it feels. It stutters. It gets shy. There is no cynicism, there is no thick fog, or fear. It just sat there all those years, protected, at peace, loving you.

Without a doubt, loving you.

I still don't have a mat.

Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, very far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answers."
Rainer Maria Rilke



I still don't have a mat, and although I have been practicing in the most beautiful places, I am beginning to feel disconnected. Today I am severely missing my yoga community, my yoga friends, my yoga teachers, and the beautiful designated asana and meditation spaces that I was blessed enough to practice in.

The sand by the sea, and the dewy grass in my friend's and grandparent's back yard has served as my mat thus far. As one would expect, it was invigorating at first - the smell of the water, the grass, the wind in my hair. Now some of these elements are beginning to feel less glamorous and more like annoyances, and at times, distractions. My hands constantly sink into the sand, and I wonder if it's any good for my wrists. I slip in the dewy grass, and I perpetually fidget and adjust myself. Even the postures that usually bring immense stillness to my body, like Adho Mukha Svanasana, lack focus. Not to mention that every time I practice outside, I always come home looking like I just fought a wolf.

I've looked up classes in the city, Riga. The most popular studio is actually owned by a family friend, but it is a Bikram studio, and I would prefer to practice traditional hatha/vinyasa style. However, I have considered reaching out to him and checking it out - who knows - maybe it would be different than my experiences in California. From what I hear, this studio has wood floors and not carpet and that in itself is a huge plus. At this point, I have to stay somewhat open minded.

All the other studios I found only offer about one or two classes a day (or retreats), and it is hard to tell what type of classes they are. Basically, there's just not a whole lot of yoga happening in my country. I am hope that when I go to Copenhagen in a week to see my little brother and dad, that I am able to quickly find a studio there and take as many classes as possible. I imagine CPH's yoga community is just as developed as Stockholm's, where I took some awesome classes a few years back. I am looking forward to that.

Meanwhile, I have decided that I need a mat. I just can't do it anymore. Yoga without guidance, without the community, is challenging enough. I need a bloody mat. My childhood friend, who I am staying with, manages a sporting goods store, and she said I could come in and check out some of the mats that they carry. I am planning to take the train to the city tomorrow to visit her location. They don't have any brands that I am familiar with, but I am sure I can find something to suit me.

Meanwhile, I am just going to try and enjoy the nature. I know that the bumps I am experiencing is the work I need to be doing, and I trying my very best. I just recently read a quote that really resonated with me by my favorite author/writer Maya Angelou. Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better; do better.  

Anyways, here are some photos from a 3 day river trip that I went on with Lionda's family, plus some other places that I captured while running or hiking that have brought me energy, and inspiration. Until next time.











Saturday, August 3, 2013

Yoga by the Baltic Sea.


Yesterday morning Lionda and I put on our running shoes and ventured through her home town Vaivari. Vaivari is a residential neighborhood of the city JÅ«rmala, a popular resort town with a 33km white-sand beach. It has long been a tourist attraction in Latvia, and while running, Lionda makes a light joke about having grown up in Latvia's version of Newport Beach, an affluent city in Orange County. And we laugh.

Other than being a tourist hot spot and nuzzled close to a beautiful shore, the two cities have absolutely nothing in common. JÅ«rmala's neighborhood is old, wrinkly, and sprinkled with romantic wooden houses in the Art Nouveau style. Aside from the few modern homes that have been built over the last few years, it sits humbly on its thrown. Its essence is benevolent and simple.

We keep a steady pace all the way to the shore line, where the smell of the Baltic Sea and the softness of the white sand turns us into 12 year old girls. And that's where we decide to practice.







Friday, August 2, 2013

The Lost Decree




I am drinking hot coffee. Not out of necessity, but for the thrill and indulgence of it all. 

It's not spilling out of the small sipping hole of my usual recyclable Peet's Coffee cup. It's in a ceramic mug, home brewed, and steady in both hands. I sit. We have time. We have an abundance of time. So I sip slowly. I sip, and stare into the lucid brownness, wondering what day I should catch the bus to see my grandparents. I am home. I am in Latvia.

It's been three years. Well, it's been over three years, but I prefer to round down. Up until now, I've tried to not over think it, over analyze it - the distance, the time, the gaps. Gaps large enough to change people. Gaps large enough to to fall through and scar, like bungalow floors. I wonder if the hand will fit the glove. If I still fit. Or if it will hurt. Three years. It's never been this long, and it's never been like this. I've always had a ticket back.

I sip. It's my first morning here. I slept well, but my body is bloody mad, as I am severely jet lagged. I sip and think. I don't have to go to work. I don't have a class to teach, or somewhere to be, or someone to meet, or errands to run. I don't even have a car to run errands in. In fact, there is no car anymore. My phone sits quietly. I canceled my plan, and mostly use it to take photos. I sip and look at my photos. I don't have plans for tomorrow. I am unsure about what I am doing next week. The truth is, I don't know what I will be doing in six months or next year, for that matter.

Intellectually, I am fairly used to and comfortable with this concept, this unknowing. I have answered the question many times: what are you going to do? Over the last few months, I have had time to become quite familiar with the sound formation of these three words. I've practiced. I've said them many many times. To others and to myself. When I am in my natural state, in my truth, the questions nor these words rattle me. However, I am not always in this beautiful space.


don't 
know.

Are you going to be back. I don't know. For how long? I don't know. How do you feel? I don't know. Are you worried? I don't know. Lately, it's my answer to the majority of questions the of majority people ask me. Half of them don't really care but I've peaked their curiosity, half of them have no business, (or as I love to say -- bidness) caring, and the ones between the cracks, the ones that do care, the ones that have a right to care, well, I hope they love and understand. Maybe even they know something I do not.

It's my first time without a home studio. It's the first time I can't run off to my favorite class when I feel like the floor is falling from underneath me. I don't even have a yoga mat anymore. The old Jade was stained and worn with hours of feet and hands, vinyasas, and tears. I left her behind at my parents house - partially hoping that one day my mother will miraculously use it. I don't have a mat anymore. There are time when this thought fills me with panic. I don't even have a mat.

And so it begins. The lost decree. Yoga without a mat, yoga without a studio.






Saturday, July 20, 2013

Change; the only constant.


 


This week I have been saying goodbye to many of my students and studios. Today, while announcing my leave and introducing the new instructor at Yoga Shakti, I unexpectedly broke out in tears. I have deep ties to many of my students at this particular studio, still I did not expect to feel so deeply. My emotions rattled me.

For a moment, I almost felt embarrassed. What was happening to me? It came on so sudden. I felt powerless. But when I looked up (yes, my face was buried in my palms) I found my students looking at me with compassion and understanding - some of them teary-eyed as well. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that these yogis have put their trust in me for years -- breathing, laughing, falling, getting back up, and yes, at times, crying -- in a space that I held for them. Now was a time for me to trust and allow myself to be held, too. 

It is okay to feel vulnerable.  


Thursday, April 25, 2013

Stay open, stay soft.

 

I did a self practice today, packed with deep heart openers, and long forward folds. This version of Bon Iver's Beth/Rest kept me company, and the combination of soft music and strong movement helped me open, release, and still. Moments like these remind me why I love the practice, why I love to teach, and why, no matter what excuse my monkey mind can muster up, I return to the mat. When all else fails, when it seems like no one is around, I know I have that. I am never alone. Heavy mitted love and shadows are always with me.

I met an amazing woman the other day. She told me that intimacy requires vulnerability. And vulnerability requires self love. Mid conversation, I had to interrupt her, and write this down. She was a complete stranger, but that day, I was open to her and what she had to say. Someone else could have said it, and I may not have heard them. No one and nothing is mere coincidence. 

It struck a rich and thick chord. Strength, maybe even the illusion of strength, is a type of defense mechanism for me, a faulty fight or flight response. I know how to "be strong" and how to "act strong", but it doesn't always make me approachable, and it doesn't always harbor a space for long lasting and meaningful relationships. Most importantly, it isn't always my truth.

This week my boss/close friend asked me to consider the "vibe" I give off, insinuating that the person that I am is not always the person that people get to meet. And after asking Lionda, my sissi, some advice on matters of the heart, she laughed and pointed out how great my intuition was in every area of life, except for when it comes to that sphere.

So my question is: how many heart opening poses do I have to do to become more in tune with this side of myself? [Just joking. Maybe. Sort of.] The work ON the mat sometimes seems so much easier than the work OFF the mat. But that is my work. That is where I need to go. That is where I want to be.

The sweetest fruit is out on the limb.

 I will stay strong, and at the tip of my strength ...

... I will learn to melt and soften.


Thursday, April 4, 2013

The Tortoise and the Hare


This past Wednesday, practicing, and warming up for my Enerji Fitness class in Tustin. 
Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, 8:45am www.enerjifitness.com

I've been home for two weeks.

Getting back into the swing on things proved to be quite the challenge for me! Desynchronosis, commonly known as jet lag, was of course no help. Bloody crazed with new-found glorious inspiration, I wasn't doing myself any big favors either. Feeling ridiculously high*, I naively took on a rather generous amount of classes, worked late hours at the office, and played a rather mean game of social catch up.

Needless to say, I wasn't even half way through the week, when it was all disrupted. I found myself on the studio floor, holding back tears, wondering if I was even okay to drive home. How was I already so burned out? A cocktail of feelings spilled over me. The base of this bittersweet drink: slight disappointment. The modifying agent: slight relief. I am not superhuman, not even after my beautiful, life-changing experience. I had to slow down, or I wouldn't make it to Friday, let alone reach my new-found goals.

Now I am not entirely surprised by my own behavior. I have a long history with balance ... or should I say the lack of. I can balance in bakasana, and on a good day I am even pretty stable for a few breaths in my pincha mayurasana. But in life, I can get pretty wobbly. I have a huge tendency to over-jam my schedule, spring-clean, and then re-over-jam again. Even after identifying this pattern, it's been difficult to break. But I am working on it, and this month it is my main focus. Slow and steady wins the race. 

Updating my blog is a part of this work. I enjoy writing and sharing my experience, but frequently don't make time for it. Now while I wait for my car to get serviced, instead of answering work e-mails, I am doing this, and I feel quite relaxed and proud of myself. And while I ate lunch today, I simply stared out the window. That was fantastic, too. No phone, no book, just my food and my surroundings. Sometimes it baffles me, that after so many years of practice, I still need so many reminders and have to do so much work to slow down. I guess that's why we call it practice and not graduation. Keep on keeping.

I will never be the same.


The natural progression of understanding the Universe, the world, and myself, spontaneously carried me 8,000 miles away from the shore that had become dauntingly familiar to me. I stayed fairly quite and perhaps to some it seemed I left quite abruptly. Since I've returned, I've been faced with many questions. I feel only this can answers them all sincerely: it is quite simple now.

 I will never be the same.

And that is probably why it had to happen the the way that it did. Thank you to all my students who were understanding about my absence, and additionally, thank you to the studios and amazing fellow instructors who showed support, helped cover my classes, and allowed me this quest. I am extremely grateful, and equally curious as to where this is all taking me...

 I am open.



So excited about this!

Yoga Today proudly welcomes Mona Godfrey from Yoga Today on Vimeo.

FUN Q&A with Yoga Today!


Yoga Today is so excited to introduce our newest instructor, Mona Godfrey. I sat down with her off camera to ask a few questions so we could all get to know her a little better …

Click to watch a video introduction by Mona Godfrey

First day on set, nothing but excitement!


Let me shift gears and dive a little deeper into who Mona Godfrey is, day-to-day.
Deeper? I thought the other questions were already pretty deep! Ha ha








Mona, you’ve left our Yoga Today crew with endless smiles. Your personality radiates directly into your methods and teachings. We are so excited to have you as a part of our team and look forward to many more days of filming!
I am SO excited and grateful to be a part of Yoga Today! The whole Yoga Today team rocks – all of you have made a strong impression on me and I am so grateful to have this be a part of my life experience!