Beauty and The Pain

Yesterday I was witness to an amazing experience that I believe was heightened by 27 consecutive days of a new yoga practice. I have spent hours retraining my breath and listening to my body while twisting and bending into purposefully expanding postures. Without it, I may not have arrived at the healing destination that took place on a long drive home, after a long and arduous day.

It only took three words to cut through me like a knife. Cast out through the snarled lips of the past, and out of the mouth of one of my greatest teachers in this life. Those three words triggered a painful history, leaving tears welled up and hovering at the edge of my lower eyelids. Held back like high-water at the dam's edge.

More than the words themselves, it was my surprise reaction to them. And as I enter my sixth decade in life's classroom, this particular assignment continues to keep me after school. The curriculum has been a coarse one and today's lesson sat waiting patiently behind my tears and blurred vision, as I stepped behind the wheel for the welcome drive home.

I took a different route home than was usual. One less congested and stop sign free allowing for an ease in driving. In that freedom, the day's concluding event replayed in my mind offering fully the effects of the opened wound, bleeding and raw. Recently read passages from my new favorite contemporary philosophical author, Mark Nepo, reminded me to feel these moments fully. And so I did. This, in tandem with my return to a yoga practice, had opened me to locating visceral experiences happening inside my body.

I could feel the pain, the hurt, so intensely as it first circled the area around my heart, taking a route traveling down the path along the spine, through the pelvis, reaching even further down the legs, and coming to rest at a tingling in my toes. By my own calculations about 80% of my body was fully engaged in the feelings of emotional pain—all at the same time. Connected and unyielding, heart to toes.

With a single blink of my eyes, the dam broke. In the very next moment, what laid before me, in the expanse of the sky was an unobstructed sunset in the making. I could feel my soul switching its gears, moving past the pain and into appreciation for the beautiful gift of nature. These words, like a yogi's mantra chanting in my mind, "This is real. This is the only thing that is real. Thank you." The feelings of emotion in this raw and open state, as I breathed in the expanse of sky and beauty of color, allowed the eyes of my soul to see beyond the pain of the previous moment.

I could feel the expression of joy in this moment so intensely as it first circled the area of my heart, taking a route traveling down the path along the spine, through the pelvis, reaching even further down the legs, and coming to rest at a tingling in my toes. Sound familiar? Yes! If I may answer my own question. The same physical experience of deeply rooted emotions around hurt, located in the depths my heart connected to the bottom of my toes, were exactly what I had experienced in the raw moment of appreciating beauty.

The lines completely blurred between beauty and pain. The heart-to-sole channels cracked open wide. The path of pain and fresh wound followed directly by the healing bandage of beauty. Perhaps it was in that order, or maybe it was happening simultaneously, I'm no longer sure.

What I do know or witnessed for myself is, created through beauty or pain, the sensations were the same. And with that, I believe I have found a tool for future healing. When the heart is broken open there exists an open portal of opportunity to seek the bounty of beauty that surrounds us, to sooth the wound when broken open or anew.

Consider this...it might just work for you too.

Heart Rush

During the 23rd consecutive day of yoga, I experienced something there that I have felt at other times and places, and perhaps because it didn't come during a time of stillness, it came and went in less than a momentary notice. It didn't hang with brilliance and longevity like the twinkling star waiting to be named, dangling above in the dark sky of night.

The front of my heart in a posture hovering above the grounded earth, the back side open, soft and vulnerable, greeting the sky. In stillness for a period of time, long enough to bring about change, to open barricaded channels built over time and experience.

What I speak of, the thing I have named, is an inexplicable feeling, like a wave of warmth and goodness blanketing the soul. A brief encounter with what I believe to be our true nature, and it came to me in a "heart rush." Those were the two words that came to me, unsolicited, magically popping into my head. The wakeless feelings of pure joy and connection happened twice during my practice. The gratuitous naming both a blessing and a curse. The blessing, honoring it with a name in recognition and appreciation. The curse, giving it a name and wondering if it will visit me again.

Every day on the yoga mat brings with it a new experience, just like the rhythms of our lives. Some days nothing but bliss and ease, other days the chaos of the mind can only simmer down to a whisper. The body bending into postures promoting delicious releases of histories in pain and dis-ease, and gloriously, like this day, in an unexpected and welcome moment, a "heart rush."

Dedicated to my teacher Cindy Angelina Shaw, who provides the safe and loving environment for release, transformation and love.

Namaste.

The Three Breaths

Breathing, an automatic response in rhythm, right along side the heart's own beat. Breathing, one of the most essential and life sustaining things that we do, that we must do. Much of the time it is taken for granted. Unlike the heart (unless you are a skilled yogi) we can guide and direct our breath. The amount of air on the intake, the length of the air streams filling the body, holding it in place for short intervals of time and even the direction of airflow inside our body.

During ninety minutes of a yin-yoga class, I experienced a very moving practice working with the deliberate and focused flow of breath. Breathing, an act so automatic that rarely gets a notice, yet we do have the option to be more fully with it.

Prāṇāyāma is a Sanskrit word meaning extension of breath. The word composed of two Sanskrit words, prāṇā, life force, and ayāma, to extend or draw out. The practice is not forced, it is without constraint or control. A deepening of awareness and appreciation for this thing called breathing. An exercise in gratitude for it.

I was guided through an experience that left me with filled with grace. Lying on the yoga mat drawing in purposeful and deep breaths, eyes closed, with the first in the series of "the three breaths" directed toward the area of the lower belly. An imaginary, in my minds-eye, triangle formed on my inside. I could see it being painted like jet streams in the sky, with solid lines at first, disappearing into thinned air. The foundational breath starting at the base of the belly, stretching and expanding out to the sides of the ribs, spiraling upward at mirrored angles to the top and center of the chest. 

A perfect triangle, drawn with equal sides in breath trails. Reversing the sequence from the chest, out toward the ribs, coming to rest at the belly base. The continued sequence of "the three breaths," happening easily with an intentional mind in cooperation with the body and spirit. Bringing to mind a clear connection to cross-cultural threes. The Trinity in Christianity—Father, son, and holy spirit. Heaven, man, and earth in Eastern Philosophy. The Triquetra of Celtic Wisdom—earth, air and water. And right there on the yoga mat, through "the three breaths", the connection between body, mind and spirit. 

What also came to mind were the three organs receiving the sequence of breaths. The stomach, the lungs and the heart, equal partners in the nurturing and sustenance of our living and breathing self. The holy trinity within the body.

Breathing is not an option, but breathing fully and deeply is.

Platform of Reflection

Unfurling the mind like the sailcloth on a jib, 

set free to catch a fresh breath of wind.

The body stretched out straight and strong,

a plank reaching out beyond the bow of spirit.

Breathing in and out the ocean sounds,

mimicking the ebb and flow of the sea.

Looking deeply into the depths of blue, 

reaching down to bottom of the soul.

Reflections of self,

through the eye of the dolphin

mirrored under ripples of waves.

The invitation to expand and open,

from the platform of reflection.

Sacred Spaces

As I prepared for the start of an early morning and much-needed yoga class, I scanned the room where the other yogis were stretching their way into the first posture. These are people I don't know and know at the same time. And from the silence of the quietly-dimmed space of yoga sanctuary, I felt completely and strangely known. Safe and loved.

As we started with the first round of cleansing breaths, I marveled at this space filled with people breathing-in and breathing-out, all from the same source of flowing air. Breaths exchanged with ease and without argument. My mind clearing, but with one final wandering thought to my sanctuary at home. I call her Casa Milagro (Spanish for Miracle House), she is my everyday sanctuary—sans people. Both spaces sharing a breadth and depth of commonality with sheltering and unconditional embraces.

I have discovered other profound moments and places of sanctuary in my journey. Hiking and camping alone in Yosemite. The drive there alone is worthy of the title. The powerful drive to Big Sur on Highway 1. Sanctuary. Leaving behind the world-wide-grid to the "Land of Bel-Aire," even if only for a few days. Embraced. Greeting the day from the "Zen Bench" crafted by my sojourning friend for my in-joy moments. Sanctuary. Deep conversations with a trusted friend. Sacred.

The word sanctuary—descriptor for my sacred spaces. The containers of our holiness and wholeness. And from that place comes my wholeness in mind, body and spirit—where nothing is asked of me and everything is possible.

Where are your places of sanctuary—your sacred spaces?

Bel-Aire

The Zen Bench

Stillness is an Option

Delivered through the lips of the yoga instructor, "stillness is an option."

A single and short phrase of something so profoundly simple, easily overlooked as an option in the life filled with a calendar of distractions, hurried decisions, wasted with worry and fear.

The slavery to continue doing or saying, without pause, compounding exponentially. 

The natural flow of deep breathing constricted as the heart beats rhythm out of control.

There exists divine permission to do or say nothing—until you can again. From an open space, a more loving and compassionate place.

The world will wait. Stillness is an option.

Have you ever had moments when the more you say the worse things seem? Like painting a mistake on a piece of canvas, adding more and more layers of paint of correction only to create a muddy mess. Have you considered taking the path of stillness as an option?

Back Side of the Heart

During a recent Yin Yoga class, our instructor lead us through a series of cat and cow postures. In her very best yogi-voice she whispered, "Relax your belly, let it drop down towards the earth. Lift your head and chest upward toward the sky, opening your heart." Me, breathing-in, breathing-out, breathing-in, breathing-out. She begins again with, "Now, slowly drop your head and arch your back toward the ceiling like a cat. Bring your chin to your chest. Feel the stretch of your spine, opening fully—opening the back side of your heart."

My ears perked up immediately. The flow between postures momentarily disrupted. What? How have I never heard that before? In all the years I have practiced yoga, I had only been taught postures that were about opening the heart from the front. But of course, without speaking those words, postures like the 'cat' were doing exactly that. Opening the back side of the heart. An aha moment. And why wouldn't we address all sides of the heart, whether speaking about it physically or symbolically?

Not having ever breathed in that intentional opening through the back, I imagined my own heart looking a bit lopsided, dim and neglected. Very excited by this revelation, I began the breath-work of resuscitating inhales and noticing how happy my heart was starting to feel. To finally be receiving some long overdue love and attention—from both sides.

You know how once you hear something you can't un-hear it? In this case, I was grateful for her words. Locked forever inside my senses and intentions toward my heart. Another moment of grace—received.

I am curious now. What does the back side of the heart actually look like? Combing through the images I found during my research, the posterior view (back side) of the heart organ, anatomically carried the familiar lines and contours of the heart symbol in illustration. You know—the shapes we girls romantically draw in the sand, on paper and sometimes as the dot over the letter "i".

Who knew?

Now what—you might be asking? Nothing more really, other than to acknowledge the heart holistically. With equal breaths in-and-out, attention, healing and opening—front to back and back to front. The image of the heart etched in my brain. I will never be able to look at someone's back without also seeing—the back side of their heart.