Tag Archives: Beginner’s yoga
And The World Comes Crashing In
Mornings are not what they were. My lovely man has begun his own morning practice of yoga and meditation. I should be happy for him. I’m not. The world was mine at 4 a.m. (God, how early do you have… Continue reading
Walking the Path
This morning during home practice my thoughts walked a familiar path:1. Rats. That left second toe still hurts a bit. I’ll bet it’s from walking across the lake in my big boots. It’s a bit red, too, and swollen. Like… Continue reading
Patience is a Tough Gig
We’ve been spending a lot of time at our cabin on Smith Island, Lake Nipissing, middle of nowhere, northern Ontario. No running water, no electricity, quieter than the Dalai Lama’s head. As it gets dark in the evening (4pm in… Continue reading
Funk Yoga
My sister called this morning, on the tail end of a four-day premenstrual funk. During said funk, she forgoes dinner for chocolate bars and Skittles, which she calls bags of pretty-colored death. She wears sweat pants, a hoodie, and fat… Continue reading
Bring on the Germs
When my lovely man began yoga classes, he borrowed a mat from the rack of mats at the front of the studio. It worked well enough for him, so he borrowed the same mat for the next 9 or 10… Continue reading
Oh, Yeah?
My yoga teacher trained in Mysore. Well so did mine. Mine lived in Mysore for 17 years.My teacher was born in Mysore. Well mine is on her third lifetime in Mysore. I go there for classes all winter.Do you know these conversations?My yoga teacher has… Continue reading
Who’s Zoomin’ Who?
The strangest thing is happening, and until this morning it was happening to me but without my awareness. At the end of practice, recently, a bit addled by meditation and some Downward Dog ecstasy, I move, without any plan, without… Continue reading
Great Ball of Fire
It was -41 degrees Celsius here yesterday, which is about the same in Fahrenheit, and might as well be absolute zero, the point at which all thermal motion in the universe ceases. It was cold. This is unusual, even for… Continue reading
Bellowing
If it weren’t for bellows breathing, I could go the entire day without actually waking up. We’ve been talking about pranayama, the breathwork limb of yoga. I can’t move on to anything else without paying tribute to Bellows Breath, or… Continue reading
In Praise of Breathing
Pranayama. I’m besotted with it. The use of breath is one of the eight limbs of yoga. It’s all I can think about these days, which makes for disastrous conversations in grocery stores. ("Have you practiced exhaling lately? You haven’t?" Blank… Continue reading