A Change of Scenery

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During summer, my practice moves
outside two or three days every week. My lovely man and I spend long
weekends at our cabin on an island in Northern Ontario.

This means that my practice is either
free-form or follows a DVD (until my laptop runs out of steam).

Al fresco yoga is different, even if
the asanas themselves are identical.

Here’s what I notice:

  1. Centering myself before I begin is
    completely different. Rather than shutting the world out and going
    inward, I breathe myself into my environment. I feel like one of the
    trees or the clouds. Great feeling.

  2. Life goes on around me. Rosie dog
    presses her bum into my head whenever I am close enough to her
    height. She also works diligently to occupy any and all free space
    on my mat. My lovely man forgets I’m doing yoga and offers
    breakfast, weather reports, and book summaries through the kitchen
    window. These things would drive me mad at home. During cabin
    practice, they’re as lovely as chirping birds and the sound of waves.

  3. Breath becomes more important as a
    kind of anchor when there are fewer fixed points to stare at. The
    cloud ceiling moves, the trees wave, water slurps on the shore. Steadiness comes from my inhalations and exhalations.

  4. I’m clearer about the purpose of
    yoga being pleasure. It’s easy indoors for me to drift toward
    pushing my yoga. Do more, go further, push harder. Blech. Outside,
    everything is clearer. Happier. Lighter. Good for this little soul.

Are you an outdoor
yog(in)i? What have you noticed during your outdoor practice?

Thanks to yoga for
being so portable. Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the
web,
on
Facebook,
on
Twitter,
and on
iTunes.

Posted in alfresco, Yoga, yogamat, yogaoutside | Tagged , , , , | Comments Off on A Change of Scenery

My Edge is My Own

yjrockwall.jpg

Among my friends are two former yoga
teachers, both of whom quit teaching (and practicing) because of
chronic pain that began with yoga and improved with the end of yoga.

I’m flummoxed by this. Did they not
find the right kind of yoga for their lives? Did they feel so
conflicted about the business of teaching yoga that their bodies
rebelled? Could they not find this “edge” we keep hearing about?

Intelligent edge, intense edge, edge of discomfort, going beyond your edge, working with your edge. In yoga, this Goldilocks edge is huge: finding
the balancing point between too much and too little practice,
overdoing and underdoing each pose, all the while expanding our
definition of who we are on the mat.

I appreciate this edge in my own
practice. Some days (some weeks, some seasons), feeling solid and
trusting, I’m drawn to exploring the deepest, secret spots in a
stretch, the hip and shoulder spots that have had “Keep Out”
signs on them for most of my life. And when I’m ready to peek into those places, it happens incrementally and at my own pace. I enter those rooms one brave step at a time. No matter who is teaching me or how big the class is,
that kind of stretching is a private matter.

On those same confident days, I
approach strength challenges by saying, “Bring it on, honey,
because I can fling the universe over my shoulder and carry her up a flight of stairs.” Name the challenge and I’ll double it.

Other days, weeks, and seasons, all I
want is restoration, peace, and Arrowroot cookies. No push, please.

This edge is completely personal and in
constant flux. I can’t imagine anyone but me knowing where it might
be today.

To complicate things, the edge is far
more comprehensive than I’m suggesting so far. On some days I want
to be instructed. On some days I do not, thanks. Some days I resist
everything that’s good for me. Some days I allow good things to
pour into my life. Some days I’m pushing everything (got to, have
to, should) and some days I hum a cooperative tune with all that is. There are edges everywhere you look, many of my own invisible to me,
all of mine invisible to anyone but me.

I don’t know, then, how to explain
the teachers who love to sit on my back during a forward bend in
order to “take me to my edge.”

(Nor can I explain how it is that
sometimes I love that push, even though I came to class wanting an
hour-long savasana.)

I don’t know how to explain the huge
numbers of yoga students and teachers who injure themselves.

My own approach? My edge is my
business, my responsibility, and my pleasure to explore. I appreciate
my teachers, but no one knows my path better than me.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on
your edge(s). I have a lot to learn.

Thanks to yoga for being endlessly
interesting. Thanks to you, always, for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the
web,
on
Facebook,
on
Twitter,
and on
iTunes.

Posted in edge, forwardbends, savasana, Yoga, yogateacher | Tagged , , , | Comments Off on My Edge is My Own

My Edge is My Own

yjrockwall.jpg

Among my friends are two former yoga
teachers, both of whom quit teaching (and practicing) because of
chronic pain that began with yoga and improved with the end of yoga.

I’m flummoxed by this. Did they not
find the right kind of yoga for their lives? Did they feel so
conflicted about the business of teaching yoga that their bodies
rebelled? Could they not find this “edge” we keep hearing about?

Intelligent edge, intense edge, edge of discomfort, going beyond your edge, working with your edge. In yoga, this Goldilocks edge is huge: finding
the balancing point between too much and too little practice,
overdoing and underdoing each pose, all the while expanding our
definition of who we are on the mat.

I appreciate this edge in my own
practice. Some days (some weeks, some seasons), feeling solid and
trusting, I’m drawn to exploring the deepest, secret spots in a
stretch, the hip and shoulder spots that have had “Keep Out”
signs on them for most of my life. And when I’m ready to peek into those places, it happens incrementally and at my own pace. I enter those rooms one brave step at a time. No matter who is teaching me or how big the class is,
that kind of stretching is a private matter.

On those same confident days, I
approach strength challenges by saying, “Bring it on, honey,
because I can fling the universe over my shoulder and carry her up a flight of stairs.” Name the challenge and I’ll double it.

Other days, weeks, and seasons, all I
want is restoration, peace, and Arrowroot cookies. No push, please.

This edge is completely personal and in
constant flux. I can’t imagine anyone but me knowing where it might
be today.

To complicate things, the edge is far
more comprehensive than I’m suggesting so far. On some days I want
to be instructed. On some days I do not, thanks. Some days I resist
everything that’s good for me. Some days I allow good things to
pour into my life. Some days I’m pushing everything (got to, have
to, should) and some days I hum a cooperative tune with all that is. There are edges everywhere you look, many of my own invisible to me,
all of mine invisible to anyone but me.

I don’t know, then, how to explain
the teachers who love to sit on my back during a forward bend in
order to “take me to my edge.”

(Nor can I explain how it is that
sometimes I love that push, even though I came to class wanting an
hour-long savasana.)

I don’t know how to explain the huge
numbers of yoga students and teachers who injure themselves.

My own approach? My edge is my
business, my responsibility, and my pleasure to explore. I appreciate
my teachers, but no one knows my path better than me.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on
your edge(s). I have a lot to learn.

Thanks to yoga for being endlessly
interesting. Thanks to you, always, for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the 
web,
on 
Facebook,
on 
Twitter,
and on 
iTunes.

Posted in edge, forwardbends, savasana, Yoga, yogateacher | Comments Off on My Edge is My Own

Gotta Have It

yjrockpath.jpg

This summer, I can’t seem to go a day without eating peanut
butter. Who knows why? It’s not the greatest flavor in
the world, and not the greatest texture. It almost always gets stuck
going down my throat, and sometimes requires racing for a glass of
water to help it along. Nevertheless, down the gullet, every day. I
felt the same way about Brussel sprouts last winter, and about steel-cut
oats for breakfast every winter for the last decade.

It seems pointless to analyze this,
provided I’m not craving after heroin or something equally bad. I figure I’ll
just eat peanut butter until the thing runs its course.

Yoga works the same way for me. There are
seasons during which I’d rather read about yoga than do a full
practice every day. At my worst, I’d take reading crime novels over working on Shoulder Stands.

Not so now. These days I’m doing
about 90 minutes in the morning and 90 more in the
afternoon.

“Hi, my name is Kristin and I’m a yoga addict.” 

The first practice is delicious. Every
day I finish and think, well that was wonderful, and plenty. By noon I begin to crave it again. By somewhere between 2 and 4pm, I’m
back on the mat like an idiot burglar returning to the scene of a crime.

Maybe it’s the Kundalini honeymoon.
Maybe it’s because I have the time. Perhaps it’s a summery
growth-spurt energy. I don’t know. And as long as it isn’t vodka and tonic or Internet poker, I’ll go with the flow. It’s Camel and Standing Forward Bends, for God’s sake. Meditating and
chanting. Breath of Fire. I’ll take it.

Does yoga happen in waves like this for
you, or are you a steady-Eddie yogi? I wonder if some of us
are waves by nature but squeeze ourselves into a more regimented
practice. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks to yoga for being more delicious
than anything, sometimes. Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the 
web,
on 
Facebook,
on 
Twitter,
and on 
iTunes.

Posted in addiction, breathoffire, camelpose, standingforwardbends, Yoga | Tagged | Comments Off on Gotta Have It

What Would Your T-shirt Say?

yjsweet.jpg

Where is the beautiful yoga clothing?
Oh, I know there’s some lovely stuff out there, but don’t you
dream of designing your own yoga T-shirts, yoga pants, and yoga mats?

We talked about this last year, but I
think it deserves another round.

Let’s say we could create the perfect
top for you–tank top, V-neck, string bikini top, down vest–you name it according to your own inclinations.

For me, it would be a T-shirt, V-neck, cap sleeves, indigo,
soft and breathable, extra long through the trunk, doesn’t shrink,
doesn’t stink, doesn’t stain. (What are the chances,
statistically, that I’ll find this during my lifetime? If I do,
I’ll buy 10 of them.)

OK. Now the logo. I want a soft,
friendly, slightly feminine font. Not a Barbie font, more like a
Sharon Stone font.

One saying on each of my shirts:

1. Love Breathing

2. Beyond Nuts for Kundalini

3. Shanti, Shanti, Shanti

4. Breath of Fire Smokes

5. Namaste Back at You

6. Smile by Yoga

7. One Conscious Breath 

8. The World Needs Your Heart More Than It
Needs Your Head

9. What Makes You Happy Makes You Well

10. Love Wins

Those are mine. Tell me about your
T-shirt. And for goodness sake, somebody take the idea and run (or Salute the Sun) with it.

Thanks to yoga for inspiring us to
plaster accolades across our chests. Thanks to you for the
conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the 
web,
on 
Facebook,
on 
Twitter,
and on 
iTunes.

Posted in Yoga | Comments Off on What Would Your T-shirt Say?

In Praise of Losing Your Head

In designing-your-ideal-life circles, coaches love to ask this: What do you love that makes you lose complete track of time?

Maybe you lose track of time brushing your teeth. I don’t know. But having wasted great chunks of my life being compulsively early and time-obsessed, the answers to that question are HUGE indicators of where I ought to be running as fast as courage will take me.

So what does it? And I mean really lose track of time, like holy time warp, Batman, is that sunset out there? I haven’t brushed my teeth, for God’s sake. That’s what I mean.

There were years  when I had no answer, which would be pathetic except that those years generated the certainty that being among the living dead would not do for me.

Here are my answers now:

1. Rehearsing for a great play as an actor. It’s the discovery process. All rehearsals should be 27 hours long. Without a break. I can never understand why anyone wants to stop.

2. Rehearsing for a great play as a director. Same thing.

3. Speaking with and entertaining groups of people re: making ourselves well by making ourselves happy. I think it’s the communal discovery thing again.

4. This one is recent and is the reason I’ve been thinking about this: Kundalini yoga. I’m mad for it. I read yoga DVD reviews like Southern Baptists read bibles, over and over and over till the sane people around me cover their ears and roll their eyes back a decade. I do two classes a day and would do more if I could still hold my arms up. I fantasize about upping that to three or four and calling my entire life a Kundalini transformation camp. The dog will only sit through one class a day with me. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.

Those are it for me. I’d love to hear yours. And not just for fun, although I’m all for fun.

I suspect there’s something healthy in losing our heads, our allegiance to the almost constant got-to-have-to-tick-tock-love-to-but-can’t-even-contemplate-it-tick-tock filter through which make our choices every day.

I look forward to hearing what you have to say.

Thanks, always, for the conversation,

kristin

Posted in blog | Tagged , , , , , | 13 Comments

Releasing into Backbends

yjsailboat.jpg

Backbends. It’s the only groups of
asanas in yoga that scares the bejeepers out of me before I even roll
out my mat. The word scares me. 

They’re hard, aren’t they?

After a week of concentrated effort
(and almost two years of recurrent effort), I can power one hand
to one raised and shaking heel in Camel. I’d put this outstanding
accomplishment on YouTube if I thought it had anything to do with
real yoga. My pseudo-twisty-gritted-teeth Camel does not.

My Camel attempts have been push, push,
push, gotta get there even if it means squashing the heck out of my
lower back. Etc.

A survey of backbend literature
suggests they have everything to do with moving from fear to courage,
from fear to power. The word that shows up again and again, making me
nuts, is “release.” You don’t read much about bulldogging your
way to courage and power. You read, instead, about allowing, opening,
and releasing resistance.

Backbends are designed to open our
pelvises, our hearts, and our throats. They are designed to open us
to receiving the hearts of others, to receiving what the future
brings, and to trusting life.

Until backbends, I would have told you
that trust and openness are my middle names. Much of my time is spent
writing, speaking, and reading about love and courage.

Backbends are teaching me that my body
is not yet completely on board, that there is a bit more fear in my
body than my mind likes to admit.

So. No more pushing against my own
resistance.

Starting this morning, all shoulder and
hip openers (my prep work for backbends) are done softly, gently, and
with a focus on surrendering long-ingrained defenses I no longer
need. I will encourage myself at whatever volume is necessary.  “Good for you. Let go, little goddess. IT IS SAFE TO LET GO.” Just as well that I’ll be practicing these at home.

Are you one of those backbend wizards?
If you are, tell us how that freedom feels. Are you backbend phobic? If you
are, can you see that changing?

Thanks to yoga for offering us opening
after opening after opening, and thank you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the 
web,
on 
Facebook,
on 
Twitter,
and on 
iTunes.

Posted in Yoga | Comments Off on Releasing into Backbends

Backbending Pledge

pra1440.jpgBackbends and I have not had an easy relationship.
In Bow pose, my knees are unhappy, my
back unbending. In Camel … well, there is no “in Camel” for me.
I can lean back while on my knees, but my heels might as well be on
the east coast of Africa, they’re so far from my hopeful, flailing
hands.

And Wheel? I can raise myself from the
floor for five seconds, tops, at which point everything, my hips, my
left shoulder and ramrod spine lock up like it’s closing time at the local prison.

It isn’t just physical, either. As
soon as I arch my low back beyond its completely controlled range of
about four degrees, a panic begins, a defense mechanism that KNOWS
I’m safer closed than open, safer with the few things I know well
than with the million new things I might be stupidly bad at, safer saying
no than yes.

You know what they say: The way you do
your practice is the way you do everything, and
closed/no-chance/safety-first has been a default stance all my life.

It’s time for a change.

What has happened sometime over the
last two years of practice is that my hard “no way, no how” has
become a softer “what if?”

At first encounter with a difficult
pose, I can’t even think through it. Can’t visualize myself in
the same room with it.

Over time, resistance softens and my imagination begins to wrap itself around the pose, until I hear myself thinking, “Some day, some day I’ll get there.” That’s where I am with Camel, now.
This alone is a huge victory.

For the rest of the summer, I’m going to include backbends every
day. “Independence from my old resistance” is my summer mantra.

Is there a pose or a part of practice
that challenges you in the same way? Have you made breakthroughs?
I’d love to hear.

Thanks to yoga for teaching me that
challenges don’t end until I do.

Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the 
web,
on 
Facebook,
on 
Twitter,
and on 
iTunes.

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Channeling Marlene

yjmarlened.jpg

“Darling, the legs aren’t so
beautiful, I just know what to do with them.”
–Marlene Dietrich

Who knows whether it’s Kundalini
yoga or the fact I’ve been back into yoga for almost two years.
(Maybe it’s affected by summer, menopause, too many
eclipses this year. Who knows with these things?)

Boat Pose does it. Chaturanga does it.
Kundalini Frog does it. Lion Pose. Breath of Fire with any pose does
it.

Whatever it is,  my practice is generating
a kind of Marlene Dietrich, don’t-mess-with-me-honey energy that
rocks my little mat.

This week my lovely man met me on the
stairs after my practice and suggested we do something lovely and
romantic together. He may have tilted his head toward our room and lifted his eyebrows encouragingly, but he was also distracted by what looked like a receipt or something in his hand. With a formerly uncharacteristic blast of power from my chest and abdomen, I said, “Oh,
honey, I like your offer, but I think you can do a lot better than that for this goddess.” 

Channeling Marlene. It manifests in more direct eye
contact, a greater certainty about what I want and don’t want, and a delicious sense of power in my relationship to life in this universe. It smokes. (So did Marlene, in almost every existing photograph. Poor lungs.)

We talk often about yoga’s value in
calming us, in exploring peace and even tempers, in helping us relax into deep sleep
at night.

I’m curious about what you’ve
experienced on the other side, on the side of increased power and gutsy
fire through yoga. I’ll bet you have stories to tell, and poses that do it for you.

“Courage and grace are a formidable
mixture.” That’s Marlene. She thought the combination only
occurred in bullrings.

You shoulda tried yoga, honey.

Thanks to yoga for turning on the
power.

Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the 
web,
on 
Facebook,
on 
Twitter,
and on 
iTunes.

Posted in Yoga | Comments Off on Channeling Marlene

The Third Shanti

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We’ve been chatting about the ending
of some practices, during which we chant shanti, shanti, shanti. The
first shanti is to beam internal healing or some kind of wonderful
intention for ourselves. The second shanti is to send some
peaceful, healing energy to someone else.

The third shanti opens up such a whack
of troubles for me that I’m reluctant to begin this conversation.

The third shanti is meant to send peace
or healing intent to the world, if I’ve got it right.

That’s sweet. Here are my struggles
with it:

  1. The reality is that if I mention
    God, gay marriage, abortion, Palestinian-Israeli conflict, should we
    be killing people for peace in Iraq or Afghanistan, or should we
    have killed Osama bin Laden, just for starters, there’ll be no
    peace even among this peaceful yoga crowd. I wonder if we are egos
    who want peace as-long-as. As in, peace as long as I get what I want, peace
    as long as I feel safe. Peace as long as the world doesn’t change
    too much for me. Peace as long as you don’t rock my decisions
    about what’s right and wrong. Which leads me to …

  2. I wonder if the trip to genuine
    peace for many of us would involve a whole lot of shaking up that
    might not feel peaceful at all. Is that what we want?

  3. Sometimes I don’t even like the
    word “peace.” “Keep the peace” sounds like restraint of
    intent and expression. Perhaps this comes from growing up with five
    siblings and two strict parents. Perhaps it comes from feeling that
    a good life depends upon speaking your heart and mind without
    reservation, without worrying about making waves.

  4. On the other hand, the deep,
    profound contentment and joy I find during the meditation part of my
    practice is also “peace.” I love this version of the word.

As one mucked up human being, I am
incapable of figuring this out, of discerning the difference between
what is true and what is my own resistance in all of this. And for
Pete’s sake, there isn’t time to figure all of this out when
we’re chanting shanti, shanti, shanti at the end of a class.

What it means, in practice, is that on
that third shanti I stay away from peace. Instead I do my best to
open my heart and offer love as I know it to the planet. “Love” is a
word I trust. It doesn’t carry the ambivalence and unanswered
questions that peace does for me.

You’re wiser than I am. I know it.
I look forward to hearing what “peace to the planet” means to
you.

Thanks to yoga for encouraging us to
find our way toward all the good words. Thanks to you for the
conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the
web,
on
Facebook,
on
Twitter,
and on
iTunes.

Posted in Yoga | Tagged , , , | Comments Off on The Third Shanti