Accessible Ayurveda - qualities of autumn

From an Ayurvedic perspective, autumn is a season of expansiveness and movement. Think of those blustery days with leaves dancing every which way. Traditionally, we counter these qualities with the opposite to find balance. We ground and stabalize so we remain healthy and vibrant with the swirling, chaotic energy around us. I'll address this next, but for today, I'm curious about exploring what this season is about and what it could mean to to bring a sense of fall's Ayurvedic elements into your life.

I think a lot about space - how it affects interaction, how we design space, how we hold space. Lately I've been engaging with how we move through claustrophobia in our lives, those times we feel like we can't breathe.

We don't have to go to a yoga class or roll out our mat at home to get space.  I haven't been able to get up the last two week for my early morning practice between breastfeeding my son and his wake up time. When I do get up, I have an hour or two for a cup of tea while I write and read, then sit for a few minutes of meditation, do some sun salutations and possibly head to the gym.  Instead, if I choose sleep, it's right into the kitchen to make his breakfast while I drink my tea standing up.  Last week I paid attention to how cluttered my head feels and the effects of my body from rushing from the moment my eyes open. This week I still haven't been able to roll out of bed before my son and his dad.  So I'm experimenting with how to bring the expansive quality of autumn into my compressed morning.  This practice is pretty simple - I try and pay attention to what I'm doing as I make my tea, stir the pot of hot cereal, empty the dishwasher. If I slow down just a bit, my morning opens up.   

I'm also considering how to hold space as a parent. For as rushed as I can feel trying to cram in as much as possible when I have another adult around to help with my toddler, when he and I are alone together everything can slow down to the point of insane boredom. And then I'm tempted to try and do other things while also keeping an eye on my little climber. Inevitably this leads to some sort of accident and bruise/bump/cut followed by tears. So actually, being with this little person is a lot like teaching. My role is to be present with him, to offer suggestions for creative play while letting him explore with his own intentions, and to help him stay physically safe. I've noticed that when I interact with him like this, he surprises me.  Yes, he still wants to climb onto everything and treat my bed like a trampoline and do pull-ups from the toilet paper holder.  And it turns out that he also wants to sit in my lap and read A LOT of books. I experience his sweet and rambunctious nature more intensely and learn more about what makes him tick. 

Beyond parenthood, what does it look like to hold space for other people in our lives?  For one thing, we could put down our phones and devices to engage with other people in the room or at the table, even if it's uninteresting. That moment might pass and we could discover something beyond boredom. See what happens in your world if you simplify your practice by engaging intentionally with your world. 

Time Crunch

I'm still adjusting to the recent leap we took to "spring forward" an hour.  I love the extra light in my living room come late afternoon, but I feel behind as soon as I open my eyes each morning.  We're also coming out of a season that is supposed to provide a chance to hibernate and move at a slower pace, but with the holidays and new year's resolutions, winter is often just as exhausting as any other time of year. The shift of seasons (spring starts Friday) give us the opportunity to pause and reflect on what's working in daily routines and what isn't.  As we say goodbye to winter, I'm ready to re-focus my dwindling breath and meditation practice.  Turns out, this isn't just for yogis.  Anyone can feel less rushed and stressed by starting a simple practice. The New York Times recently featured an op-ed highlighting the link between our level of anxiety and our perception of goals.  That we live in a world of constant connection--allowing us to try and juggle numerous things at once--heightens our sense of busyness.  Mental exercises that focus on breath and re-framing how we think about time can actually lessen stress!

Rather than consider this as one more "to do," start small and see if it works for you.  Meditation doesn't have to be an hour-long practice to have benefit.  Five minutes is more than enough, if that's what you feel you can reasonably make time for.  Set your alarm 5 minutes earlier tomorrow, go sit in a quiet place, and set another alarm for 5 minutes.  Connect to each of your five senses in some way.  Then focus on taking three conscious breaths.  Follow the inhale and exhale in and out of your body.  Then think about a time you were at ease - feel the experience of relaxation throughout your body.  Try and stay with the sensation for about 30 seconds.  Go back to your breath and finish with three more slow inhales and exhales.  Repeat the following morning.  See what happens.

Summer Practice

Much as I love summer in Seattle, I usually like to escape the city for a trip or two.  I always take along my yoga mat, but whether it actually gets used is a toss up.  Sometimes I find I just need a break from my routine, which is a lovely thing to give yourself permission to do.  Last summer I discovered that being away was a great chance to develop my own practice.  Morning yoga by the lake before a swim invited a new layer of calm into my being.  I'm looking forward to being back in in that place for a good long while this July and August.

Before the lake in Idaho though, there's always theater.  Last week I was in Southern Oregon for an annual trip to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.  Friends who are fellow yogis joined this time and they are both more adventurous about trying new studios than I am.  Emily even wrote about an experience for my blog last summer.  On this trip, she inspired me to walk a couple of blocks from our vacation rental to a beautiful studio on a quiet street in Ashland.  Rasa Yoga was the perfect place to spend the noon hour on a hot summer day.  The breeze teased the filmy curtains as I moved through reclined twists and watched a few high clouds skirt over the bright blue sky.  The teaching was familiar, spoke to the breath frequently, and promoted a balance of effort and ease--something I always appreciate in our over-asana-ized culture.  I get pretty attached to my studio and teachers in Seattle, and this experience was a nice reminder of the larger community of yoga and the benefits to trying something new.

So here's to summer, and a willingness to let go of our strict routines and embrace whatever comes along.

Slow and Steady

Here we are, over the hump of the summer solstice.  Once we actually pass over into summer, the incredible momentum and energy (usually enough to drive me insane) leading up to June 20 gives way to something more mellow.  If we let it, if we give in, summer is here to carry us along at a leisurely pace as it meanders towards autumn.

Speaking of pace of life, I've been thinking quite a bit in the last week about choosing a different path than "full speed ahead."  Not just how much I pack into a day or week, but how I manage and respond to what comes my way.  I think this is actually a harder road to travel.  I find it easy to go to extremes.  It's easier to decide at the beginning of a yoga class that I will practice intensely throughout - no matter what.  Trickier, much more so, is to be open to how I feel and what I need in each moment and then adjust.  This is why I practice.  Yoga teaches me awareness.  This awareness of self is not someplace I arrive at and then stop working towards, it's a continual commitment.  And I find that slowly, over time, it gets just a little bit easier to accept and surrender to.  I learn to trust myself as I know myself better and better.  And it's in this trust that I can approach life in a less extreme manner.

My dearest friends in the world just left Seattle.  They sold their house, packed up all of their things and their dog and their kids and headed east to the Rockies.  The night I said goodbye I experienced a broken heart for the first time in my life.  If you'd asked me before last week I'd have said "sure, of course I've had a broken heart before."  I just figured it was the same as sadness, as intense anguish felt after a loss.  I didn't realize it is an actual, physical pain at heart's center.  It hurt to breathe, I felt ripped apart inside.  Anytime this week that I slow down and sit in quiet, I feel it.  I am overwhelmed by the intensity and I literally can not bear it for too long.  I know myself well enough at this point in my life to recognize that this isn't avoidance.  The sorrow is so great, it must be felt and I simply can't take it on all at once.  What an inconvenience.  Wouldn't it just be easier to totally ignore it or just get it all over with at once?

Doesn't it seem that our culture would tell me to pick between those two options?  We like to fixate on all or nothing, don't we?  We're either lost or found, we're good or bad...  Once we realize we need a change, it has to come all at once, BAM, and then we're on a different path and we don't look back.

What if we adopted a different approach?  We could embrace the challenge that comes with self-awareness and commit to taking it slow, to trust that we will find our way.  Sure, we might have to fuss around a bit, it might not be a straight path (oh how we like our linear roads).  It's harder this way, less gratifying.  And it is also life-giving.  When we slow down - take life as it comes, are willing to let grief come in waves and not race to get it over with - we are rewarded with moments of peace.  We shouldn't be in such a rush to arrive at some perfect state that is painless.  We'll miss the good stuff, the space in between pain and bliss.

In a class I regularly attend, we've been practicing a stair-step pranayama lately.  We inhale for a specific count and then pause for the same count.  And then we inhale again.  This last part is an "echo breath."  It isn't logical.  I feel full of breath before the pause, and then magically, I suspend the inhale and somehow create space for even more breath.  My capacity increases just by pausing.  What a lovely lesson for life.  I take in what I can - be it pain or joy - and then rest.  At some point I will find I can take in more...effortlessly.