Yoga On and Off the Mat

Yoga today brought words that have resonated throughout the day.  "Pay attention to the ordinary and enjoy the feeling that comes from the noticing of the ordinary.  Where in the ordinary can you feel joy?" asked the instructor.  In different poses she prompted us to notice the ordinary.  She asked if muscles were being used that we might not notice and in the noticing was pleasurable.  I found myself noticing my toes and my calfs and my shoulders during part of the practice.  Sometimes in the stretch.  Sometimes in the stillness.  Sometimes in the holding of a pose.  Noticing a part of my body allowed me in my practice to feel the pleasure of the stretch, the stillness and the holding.  Can this be brought from the mat to life?

This afternoon I took walk around the pond.  The weather was quite cold and the sun was shining and the brisk walk felt fresh against my skin.  I took the principles practiced on the mat earlier that morning to the walk, allowing myself to notice the ordinary and have that ordinary penetrate into something not noticed to pleasurable.  The blue of the sky.  The cold air against skin.  The movement of my legs as my feet moved along the pavement.   The song of birds chattering in a distant tree.  All ordinary, but with eyes that see and ears that hear and skin that feels, the imagination opens to see beyond, and the ordinary becomes extraordinary.

Twice today in intentional ways, the ordinary becomes pleasurable.  What usually would pass unnoticed becomes known and takes on a different meaning.  Yoga and life merges.

Thank you to the Two Writing Teachers community for your promotion of the March Writers' Challenge.  Thanks for giving writers and educators a forum for writing and responding.  Your service to education is valued and appreciated.

NOTICE

Spring slowly unfolds in Rochester.  It demands a noticing.  With eyes alert to see the movements of winter changing to spring, spring is becoming.  It takes eyes of noticing. As I notice, my world becomes rich.  Recently in my yoga class I was reminded of this message.  This poem highlights some areas of noticing important to me.  As a teacher of writing, as I notice my life, in all of its richness and all of its power, in its suffering and its celebration--holding it in non-judgment--in an act of noticing...I can then be a conduit to allow others to take on this tool as well. 

Today at yoga

the message heard—

notice.

Notice my body

as it stretches

into poses that open.

Notice the quiet

 yearnings that erupt

 in silence between breaths.

Notice the slow movement

of spring awakening.

The honking of geese

northward bound to summer home.

The daffodils still popped green

with yellow lying dormant

waiting to erupt with continued

warm days.

Notice the movements within others

when listening with heart.

The dimpled half smile revealing

anticipation and anxiety

over hope for new beginnings.

The blinked back tears of

a son mourning a dad and a life

that can’t be.

Notice the inner ramblings

that come with silence

and heart listening.

That come with heeding

 the inner and the outer.

The quiet yearnings that erupt

 in silence between breaths.

The awakening of spring within.

Notice.

TRANSITION—THE SPACE BETWEEN THE SLICES

“Pay attention to the space between,” my yoga teacher says as we move from one pose to another.  “Notice not only the events, but the movement between the events.”  My body slows down as I move from Child’s Pose to Downward Facing Dog—noticing not only the beginning pose or the final pose, but the flow from one pose to the next.  That space between events.

How often this is true in my day to day life.  I notice the event.

 The birthday. 

The holiday. 

The workshop. 

The meeting. 

And what slips away are the moments between.  

The sunrise or sunset as I drive to or from. 

The aromas as I prepare the meal. 

The exchange or glance that shows more than tells. 

The feelings that occur before the event… Anticipation…fear…excitement…dread.   

As if those moments don’t count.  Or they don’t have as much meaning as the actual event.

Life happens in the transitions.  They are the moments of wondering.  Not happening.  They are the moments of noticing.  Not doing.  They are the moments of anticipation.  Not performing.  They are the links between.   And when those moments in between are lived fully, life is lived fulfilledly.   The vacation planned with family over dinners and over brochures, over laughs and excitement sometimes even surpasses the vacation—and certainly enhances the vacation.  The shopping for just the right gift and the painstaking planning for the party or the wrapping of the gift with creativity and caring, holds the person being honored in a way that extends the celebration.  Life in the transitions expands the event.  

It is like that in writing.   Transitions are the connecters.  They bring one event to fullness as they link to the next event.   They link theme to support and evidence.  They link beginning, middle and end.  As writers, we sometimes take for granted the transitions, yet the transitions are a space that holds the writing together.  Moves the writing from thoughtful to meaningful.  Sometimes silently.   Just like in life.

Today I choose to hold the transitions.  I choose to view and live those moments of passing between with acknowledgement, wonder and fullness.  This happens for me through reflection.  By going to the yoga mat and taking time to notice the space between poses, I begin to notice the space between in the day to day movements of my life.  By sharing with a friend through tears and laughter our bonds become greater than the events that connect us.  I write not just for the finished product, but for the process that makes writing meaningful and fulfilling.  By writing in a daily way, I deepen the meaning of my writing as I focus not only on the slice but the spaces between the slices.   

Life happens in the transitions.