The end of the world actually ended up being a pretty nice weekend.

Sunday, May 22, 2011 in Breathing, Dancing, Kripalu, Weekend, Yoga | Tags: , , | 6 comments

I had a family obligation yesterday morning that had me dressed in business attire and stuck in an office for 2 hours with another 2 hours on the road, which is torture in itself but even moreso when the sunny sky and warm temps made yesterday one of The Most Beautiful Days in the World. On the drive home, sitting in the car in my black pants and black blazer, I fidgeted like a kid before recess, declaring that all I wanted to do was change into my play clothes and frolic outside! All the usual demands of the weekend–laundry, cleaning, sorting through a week’s worth of mail–automatically switch to “low priority” when Mother Nature gives us a beaut like yesterday. I spend so much time in the winter complaining about the dark and cold that I feel like I have to take advantage of every awesome day that comes our way.

After grabbing lunch at one of my favorite juice and burrito cafes (no burrito juice, however) and changing out of my stuffy office attire, Bryan and I headed to Red Bank Battlefield, which I’ve written about on here before. It’s one of our favorite “nice day” places to hang out, a sprawling park on the edge of the Delaware River, directly across from Philadelphia International Airport (perfect for plane watching!).

A new plane every 90 seconds!

Obligatory couple shot.

Pre-pubescent goose and parent. Hasn't reached the "God, Mom, you're so embarrassing" stage yet.

Canada geese. You're so darn cute when you're little, but then you get older and we hate you.

Sun and skyline.

Vrksasana break!

While we were walking around the park, we noticed a wedding party posing for photographs. They couldn’t have chosen a better day to get hitched (especially since the world didn’t end, as predicted).


We toted along some blankets, chairs, books, and magazines for some quality riverside reading time. Bryan prepped the space…

…and then I promptly fell asleep. I had been awake since 5:15 and was dragging at that point. I always feel the urge to nap but rarely actually follow through with it. Yesterday was an exception: I conked out for close to an hour but was delighted to do so under a big tree and wearing a tank top without being chilly. This is the stuff I dream about from November through April.

Bryan likes to put lobsters on me while sleeping.

Days like yesterday are my fuel. They revive my engine, bring light into my heart, and make me focus on the positive. They remind me of all the good things I’ve been wanting to write about and share, stuff like:

• The mind and body studio in my gym is my secret getaway spot when the urge to dance calls. Every now and then, like this past Friday, I’ll be minding my own business, lifting weights, swinging a kettlebell, or stretching, and something on my iPod comes on that just hits me in the solar plexus, and suddenly my body says, “Dance! I must dance! Get thee to a wide open space and move, please!” It’s almost like a sickness, like a feeling of nausea that you know must exit soon, but not as gross. Just very urgent, and you know that if you hold it in, you’re going to feel (psychological) discomfort for the rest of the day. Luckily, my gym’s yoga studio was free that Friday afternoon, and I was able to sneak inside, pump up the volume on my iPod, and just dannnnnce. Twenty-five minutes later, I emerged a little sweatier and very satisfied.

• I am actually, like, 95% “cool” with my yoga teacher’s languaging. I tend to be very critical about what teachers say in class and how they say it (I can’t help it; I’m like the Larry David of yoga students), and if something irritates me too much for too long, I’ll turn to a podcast for class instead, like the one teacher who said “really” in almost every sentence (“Really feel your sitz bones pressing into the ground,” “Really lengthen the breath,” “Really press those feet into the mat and really feel alive”). But the teacher I go to now, aside from some “blossoming like a lotus” stuff she starts off with every now and then, is very mindful about her choice of words and what she says to the class. For example, there is a pregnant woman in the class, and as the teacher is showing her modifications she says, “Now, as the baby grows, you’re going to have to adjust your legs like this…” Notice it’s “as the baby grows,” not “as you get bigger.” Yeah, yeah, it’s the same thing, but I’m a semantics freak (and a woman), so I know how choice of words can make a huge difference. The teacher is also very careful not to showcase certain students; meaning, if someone goes into a perfect Bird of Paradise or scorpion, the teacher doesn’t blurt out, “Everyone, look at Heather! See, that’s how it should be done,” making those less flexible or with limitations feel inferior.

• My Fake Mom Carrol and her (real) daughter went to Kripalu this weekend for an R&R. Knowing how much I love the place, she sent me an e-mail yesterday (“Hi from Kripalu”) describing her afternoon yoga class, deep (emotionally and physically) massage, big changes, fresh whipped mango sauce, and a neti pot workshop. “Love carrol ( you are here in my heart and spirit can you feel it)?”, she closed. Instead of feeling jealous about her getaway, her e-mail made me so happy for her. Her daughter melted my heart, too. She tagged me on this photo she posted to Facebook:

"This one's for you, Jen!", Vee wrote from Kripalu.

• I’ve switched up my morning meditation a bit. Instead of sitting down and starting right away with a mudra meditation, I do 5 minutes of nadi shodhana pranayama (alternate nostril breathing), finish with solely right-nostril breathing (it’s the “solar” side; it’s a good early-morning energizer), and then do whatever mudra feels appropriate. Meditation is A LOT easier after opening the lungs and waking up those brain cells!

Snobbery vs. discipline: A delicate balance

Wednesday, May 18, 2011 in Dancing, General Ruminations | Tags: | 9 comments

A soak in the hot tub at my gym last week had me thinking, “Am I a snob or just very disciplined?”

I had just finished a swimming workout and was winding down with a quick dip in the jacuzzi when women taking the aqua aerobics class began filtering into the pool area. They peeled off their outerwear, greeting each other with smiles and stories about the past week as they gingerly dipped their toes in the cool water. “Whatcha making for dinner tonight?” “How’s Bob and the kids?” “You’ll never believe where Helen is this week!” It was typical pre-class chit-chat, but the thing that raised my eyebrow was that it didn’t stop once class began.

The instructor turned on the stereo, cranking it full volume. The noise of the splashing water grew louder as the exercises started. The sound of gurgling bubbles from the jacuzzi competed with the pulsing music. The teacher yelled out instructions.

So much noise, and yet most of the women kept on talking, bringing their pre-class chats about dinner and Helen and Bob and the kids into the pool. They had to practically shout to be heard among each other, and as a result of being more engaged in conversation than exercise, their moves grew more and more limp and indifferent. They half-heartedly shimmied their torsos from side to side as the instructor demonstrated a powerful twist-and-hop move, clearly not listening and definitely not being very courteous to the other women in the pool who were there for a workout.

A white-haired woman in the front row caught my eye—she is me, age 70-something. She is in the front row, next to the instructor, because she wants to hear the exercises being called out. She is clearly set off from the coffee klatsch, her eyes focused ahead. She mimics the instructor’s moves, counting along, watching her form. She is wearing a fitness swimsuit, something from Speedo maybe, while the others are in frilly and floral bathing suits with skirts. The white-haired woman doesn’t once glance back at the peanut gallery behind her, although the somewhat exasperated look on her face indicates that she wishes everyone else would just shut up and pay attention already.

I sat there in the hot tub, fuming at the social butterflies who were disrupting class, as though I were actually that white-haired woman. I felt guilty for reacting like such a snob, but I was reminded that perhaps: “You’re just very disciplined.”

The utterance of the word sent me back to 4th grade, jazz dance class, in the studio rehearsing our annual recital number to Kylie Minogue’s “Locomotion.” The teacher was by the stereo, rewinding the cassette tape so we could practice the routine again. Jenna and Allison (pseudonyms, but OH I remember their real names) were talking, probably about boys or makeup or something “cool,” because they were a grade ahead of me. The teacher scolded them for talking, yet they got in trouble for the same thing over and over again, class after class. Maybe their parents sent them to dance class against their will; maybe being a serious student wasn’t “cool” to them. But I HATED Jenna and Allison. Why couldn’t they just be quiet and learn the dance?

My father videotaped one of my dance recital dress rehearsals once; this time I was a senior in high school. We had finished the first run-through of our tap routine and were hanging out on stage as the teacher gave notes. It’s all there on camera—a few chatty girls laughing and having their own little conversation on stage, and then me, diligently listening to the teacher, removed from the other fits of giggles breaking out around me, breaking concentration only once to practice a toe stand on my taps.

A tutu disciplined teenage ballerina

In general, the dance teachers I had in elementary and high school were pretty lax. They’d start class a few minutes late. They’d wouldn’t care if Jenna and Allison talked about their junior prom plans as they stood in line waiting to do hitch kicks across the floor.

But then one year a new ballet teacher was hired at the studio—not quite Phantom of the Opera strict, but very different from any other teacher we’d ever had. There was absolutely no talking during class. If you messed up, you had to do the combination again. She was old and didn’t care a lick about your junior prom. And you better be quiet while she was giving notes during dress rehearsal.

Everyone hated her. I LOVED her.

Of course, I pretended to hate her, to fit in with my peers. But inside…she was my dream teacher. I was there to dance, and she made sure that happened.

My parents weren’t paying a hefty tuition for a weekly Happy Hour. I wasn’t taking an hour out of my creative writing class homework every Thursday night to socialize. I was there to dance; I wanted to get it right; just cut the crap and get down to business.

As such, I have a tendency now to look a little snobbish when fellow classmates try to get all talky-talky during group-setting workouts. Maybe that’s why I have so much trouble with Zumba; I mean, aside from the high-impact moves that sometimes hurt my hips and knees, the class is VERY social. It’s advertised as a kind of dance party, and at a party you talk and gossip, right?

As for the chatty aqua aerobics women, I totally get that this may be their only form of exercise and that perhaps they’re there more for the social benefits than anything else. Research has proven over and over again that group exercise classes are beneficial for their social interaction qualities, but that doesn’t give everyone an excuse to slack off and work out their mouths more than their bodies, especially if there is time before and after class to hang out in the lobby. And especially if there are white-haired, disciplined students among them, trying hard to learn the aerobics move, yoga pose, or dance step. 🙂

What about y’all out there? Is your sense of discipline borderline snobbery? Or would you and I butt heads in a class?

“Yoga, please give me the strength to clean the bathtub.”

Tuesday, May 17, 2011 in Yoga | Tags: , | 2 comments

Do you ever take a yoga class and emerge feeling like there must have been crack in the ventilation system because you feel so damn high? I love those classes!

I was super excited when my yoga studio announced that it would be holding a vinyasa class this past Saturday morning. They normally don’t offer vinyasa on the weekend, but it was a special opportunity to welcome a new teacher. (Unfortunately, the teacher had to leave at the last minute for a family emergency so the studio owner taught the class instead.)

I needed this class to jump-start my weekend; our bathroom at home was in dire need of cleaning, and the rest of the house was begging for some TLC. I couldn’t dive into cleaning on my own–I needed a fuel source. I needed an hour and a half of sweat, breath, and concentration to bring my mind into focus. It was such a crappy day outside that morning, and I was crossing my fingers that some hot vinyasa (plus my usual cuppa morning joe) would get me going.

When class started, though, I felt sluggish. I’m not used to taking class in the morning, and my body still felt half asleep. I began to worry that I’d leave the studio in need a nap, not powered up and ready to go. But somewhere in the middle–maybe it was when the teacher helped me into an easier Warrior II stance or after that awesome heart-opening backbend–something awoke in me. Just like that, I was connected, plugged in, in the zone.

Post-yoga woo-woo state of blissful content.

I walked out of the studio feeling a little loopy, came home for a quick little lunch (Trader Joe’s veggie burger–yum!), and then plopped my sweaty body next to the bathtub for some Soft Scrubbin’ action. After cleaning the bathroom, I dumped everything out of the linen closet and re-organized all of its contents. Then I moved onto the kitchen, cleaning the floor, counters, appliances. I was growing exhausted, but the magic yoga high still lingered–onto dusting the dining room and living room!

I didn’t get a shower that day until 7:30 p.m., at which point I changed from my yoga clothes straight into my pajamas. Yeah, it was a little grody wearing my sweaty yoga duds from 10 in the morning through the evening, but I was afraid that once I peeled off that tank top and spandex pants, the yoga euphoria would ::poof:: disappear, as if my saturated clothes were some kind of Superman cape.

Mission accomplished: Next time I have a big housekeeping task on the horizon, I’ll be sure to schedule a hot yoga class immediately beforehand! What does a good, sweaty yoga class motivate YOU to do??

Survey Sunday

Sunday, May 15, 2011 in 5Rhythms, Dancing, Food, Survey, Yoga | 2 comments

While searching my other, mostly private blog the other day, I came across a survey I had taken when I joined a group called “Happy ‘n’ Healthy.” It was a great little community in which we talked about yoga/meditation/exercise, eating right, and simply enjoying life’s little pleasures (kind of the gist of my current blog!). Unfortunately, not too many people joined in, and the group slowly moved toward inactivity.

Anyway, I though it would be fun to post the survey here and compare my answers from then (June 2005) to now (nearly 6 years later). (Crap, has it really been that long?)

1a. If you practice yoga, which asana is your physical favorite, for its over-all health benefits?
2005: Twists and forward bends always help with my digestion ;-), but I do love chaturanga dandasana, because it has made my upper body and arms so strong!
2011: Hands down, the pose I do most often for pain relief is supta matsyendrasana. Sometimes when my sacrum locks up, this pose will get my back to ::pop, pop, pop:: and everything goes back into place. The before-and-after of doing this pose is a difference between total discomfort and absolute relief. And since it’s a twist, it helps with the digestion too!

Image courtesy About.com

1b. Which asana do you get the most spiritual/peaceful feeling and benefits from?
2005: Dancer’s pose. I love when I hit it right on the money and could stand there for hours. I feel so strong.
2011: Extended side angle. There are so many things going on in this pose; everything is engaged and active, and I feel like I’m giving my body total, 100% attention. The spine twists, my head turns toward the sky, my upper hand extends into the infinite, and I usually place my lower hand into jnana mudra so I can deepen the connection.

Image courtesy of iYogaLife

2. What food do you love to eat and you just feel so good after consuming it?
2005: Kashi’s Go Lean cereal, with bananas and raisins and/or fresh strawberries. I eat a bowl of that for breakfast almost every day, and it has enough protein and fiber to jump-start my day.
2011: OK, let my start off by saying that I LOVE cold cereal and I still start off most days with a bowl of Kashi Go Lean, but the food that feels even more nourishing is a bowl of hot oatmeal, the old-fashioned kind, that takes more than a minute to cook. I’ll mix in a tablespoon of peanut butter, some kind of fruit butter, raisins, either half a banana (adding halfway during the cooking process) or apple chunks, and sprinkle the finished product with some Kashi GoLean Crunch (yes, I top cereal with cereal).

3a. What non-fiction book completely changed your life in the positive?
2005: Fast Food Nation, by Eric Schlosser. It made me swear off fast food forever (though I do still get salads and parfaits from McDonald’s). 😦 Nickel and Dimed was also a valuable insight into the working poor and stopped me from ever shopping at Wal*Mart EVER again.
2011: I’m happy to say that I don’t eat at McDonald’s anymore. And although I’m not a regular at Wal*Mart, I have had to make emergency stops there for cold medicine, greeting cards, and a kid’s tugboat toy (don’t ask). But–back to the book question–the book is no doubt Sweat Your Prayers by Gabrielle Roth, founder of the 5Rhythms movement/dance modality. Everything I have ever felt about dancing is reinforced in this book, and it opened my eyes to a form of dancing that so perfectly follows the natural rhythms of the human persona and the natural world. When you read the first chapter of a book enthusiastically shouting “Yes! Yes! So true! YES!,” it’s a good sign that the book is going to impact you in a positive way.


3b. What fiction book?
2005: It didn’t change my life, but I love Daphne DuMaurier’s Rebecca. At first it looks like a romance, but then it takes a completely different turn…!
2011: Paulo Coelho’s The Witch of Portobello, about a mysterious girl who loves to dance but others are intrigued and sometimes frightened by the intensity of her moves and mental states when she’s engaged in the act, leading the community to treat her like a witch. I hope no one sees me as a witch, but there is a bit of self-consciousness when I break out into dance in the park or parking lot (which has happened before).


4. Which website do you like to go to for inspiration of any kind? ie: artistic, spiritual, wellness etc…
2005: I get an email every day from DailyOM, and I also regularly visit Yoga Journal’s site. A lot of my online blogging friends are very artistic, so just reading their posts is inspirational.
2011: What a coincidence, because today I just stumbled upon the websites Makes Me Think and its cousin, What Money Cannot Buy, in which readers post short snippets about experiences that really made them think and little things in life that bring satisfaction, respectively. And, as I did 6 years ago, the place I go most often for inspiration is to other people’s blogs, my favorites being the YIOM community and Spirit Moves Dance.


5. Which movie nourishes your soul?
2005: Love Actually. The beginning and end of that movie, the Heathrow Airport scenes, always make me cry. I just love seeing all of those people hug and kiss and embrace each other. It makes me want to visit my nearest airport and watch all the arrivals!
2011: I still love Love Actually, and it’s my and Bryan’s traditional Christmas movie. However, I have to add a bunch of Pixar movies to this answer, including Up, Wall•E, and Toy Story 3, as well as Disney’s Lilo & Stitch. These four movies hit me in the gut, and I feel happy and sad at once and can’t even watch the opening credits without tearing up and wanting to grab a stuffed animal, crawl under some blankets, and cuddle Bryan to death. Confession: I got teary-eyed just writing this response.

6. If you could only recommend one tea for someone to try, which would it be?
2005: Stash’s Creme Caramel Decaf is great with a little bit of milk.
2011: I’m only a tea drinker in the middle of winter on dark, cold nights, but I bought this orange chocolate stuff from the The Vitamin Shoppe last year, and it was pretty damn amazing.


7. What kind of art work/creative outlet do you do when your spirit needs lifting?
2005: Dancing! I come from a dance background (ballet, jazz, modern, hip hop), so I always need to blast the stereo and just MOVE without inhibition. I’m known for just breaking out in grocery store aisles and parking lots!
2011: Ditto!

8. If you do strength-training, what is your favorite exercise or part of the body to work?
2005: My arms. They show the most (especially in the summer), so I like when they look strong and powerful.
2011: Same answer. My arms are easy to tone, and now more than ever it’s important to keep them strong so I don’t injure my shoulders when swimming. My favorite strengthening exercise is the wood chopper with a medicine ball.

9. If you practice mantras/prayers/chants, while meditating or out walking, which ones help you the most?
2005: I haven’t incorporated mantras, etc into my lifestyle yet.
2011: Oh, 24-year-old Jennifer, you just wait! Thanks to kundalini yoga, I chant Sat Nam when stuck in traffic or repeat it silently in my head when meditating. And I swear chanting “Om Namah Shivaya” while drumming in my living room got me my current job back in 2007.

Image courtesy TheRainforestSite.com

10. Who are your role models/gurus for living a peaceful, centered, well-rounded life?
2005: My three main yoga teachers are by far the most inspirational people. I see them every week, and they always have me exit the studio feeling like a better person. They know exactly when to push and when to lay off. Also, my friend Cristin is so vibrant, so her personality is always a boost when I’m around her. One more person … my coworker, Carrol, who is THE most positive person I’ve ever met. Nothing “bad” ever happens in her life because she sees everything as a learning experience. Whenever there’s a problem or crisis at the office, she never freaks out. I admire her outlook immensely!
2011: Carrol, my “old lady friend” as she calls herself, is still a pretty darn inspirational and optimistic woman. And I admire my coworker Amanda for her connectedness to nature and the earth, the way she gardens, raises milking goats, tends to a greenhouse, and finds so much joy in her kitties and golden retriever.

"Old lady friend" Carrol

So those are my answers. Anyone else want to play?!?!?! If you complete the survey on your blog, be sure to comment here so I know where to look!

Talking about walking

Friday, May 13, 2011 in Dancing, Hip, Obsessions, Walking | Tags: , | 3 comments

There is no better time for early-morning walks than this time of year. Each morning the sun rises a smidgen sooner, and there is something so satisfying about standing in the bathroom at 5:20 a.m., brushing my teeth in the faint glow of the sky starting to illuminate without the need to flip on the light. The sun is my beacon, and as soon as it starts to rise, I feel like an anxious kid who needs to get outside an plaaaaay already.

I have been sleeping past my normal wake time this week and thus haven’t had a chance to fit in a walk with all of my other morning prep rituals, but yesterday (and today) I was up in time. However, once I was up and stretching and preparing my lunch and stirring the coconut milk creamer in my coffee, I decided to switch things up and leave the house for work 30 minutes early and stop at a nearby park, to do my walk immediately before going into the office. That way, instead of going right from sitting in my car to sitting at my desk, I could come into the office fresh from a sunny walk!

Yesterday morning was just the epitome of a beautiful spring day. Temps in the low 60s, white puffy clouds among a bright blue sky, birds chirping, planes descending into the nearby airport, and cows (regular one, not those punkish Scottish Highland ones) from the adjacent farm mooing. A quick 20-minute walk in surroundings like that–plus my coffee and a bowl of Kashi Go Lean with fresh strawberries at my desk–was a great way to start the work day. (Note: I did the same routine today but it was overcast and not as Disney-esque. And I needed a jacket.)

Speaking of walking, I recently realized that I am obsessed with watching other people walk. Like, really watch them walk. I don’t know if it’s the dancer in me, the fact that I practice yoga and understand the art of good posture, or that I have so many issues myself with my feet and hips, but when I’m walking around the mall or downtown or behind someone at work on their way to the bathroom, my eyes immediately zone into their feet, hips, and back, and not in a “Wowee-wow-wow, look at those Shakira hips!” way but in a “Wow, those high heels are making your ankles collapse in, and your shoulders are all hunched up by your ears! You’re going to be in so much pain when you get older!” way (says the wise, knowledgeable 30-year-old).

Maybe in my former lifetime I was a salesperson at a specialty running store and watched people’s gaits for a living and determined whether they were pronators, supinators, or neutrals. But seriously, I love looking at feet. (I recently declared to my husband that I should have been a podiatrist…to which I responded, “Ahh, nevermind. Then I’d have to clip old people’s toenails.”)

I was horrified last weekend when we were walking through town and I noticed a woman in front of us wearing those damn Shape-Ups. With each step she took, the woman’s ankles were completely rolling in. It was so significant that even my husband, who doesn’t care in the least about other people’s biomechanics, noticed. Just another reason why I think Shape-Ups are the Devil’s sneakers.

All the time, I see people running with the most awkward strides and foot motions, and I feel the need to comment (to myself, of course. Or my husband). One time we passed a guy with a knee  jutting out, his foot all floppy, and his torso all loosey-goosey. “How is it that he’s not in physical therapy every day?!” I asked incredulously. “Just wait!”

On the flip side, my heart flutters when I see someone with perfect posture and balance. Take the famous yoga teacher Angela Farmer:

She was a presenter when I was at Kripalu; I didn’t take any of her classes, but just passing her in the hallway was satisfying enough for me. Angela was as poised as a Greek goddess, her body practically floating down the corridors. Even the way she lifted her hands at the cafeteria buffet was a dance, each finger curling and extending with the most graceful act of mindfulness. It wasn’t pretentious either—not the least bit of “holier than thou” attitude. It was pure elegance and total body awareness. I never once spoke with her, but man, I totally want to be like Angela when I grow up!

I try hard to maintain a steady posture and stance when walking (forget sitting…I turn into a slumped sack of potatoes when proofreading),

Slumped over like a pug with poor posture

to the point where several people have asked me “Are you a dancer?” in non-dance settings, including on the weight floor at the gym and in a pizza shop when I was 13.   I had always taken pride in being asked that, even as recently as last year, when I wasn’t taking technique classes anymore but I guess still maintained that “look.” So I was devastated when, after I first busted my hip last year, my yoga teacher watched me walk across the room and told me I have a limp. ?!&$*&@&!! Now *I* was the one with the goofy-looking gait! And then, during my physical therapy sessions, my PT noticed that I tended to walk with my hips shifted to one side. Who am I?!?!?

It is reassuring, then, that one of my coworkers in the marketing department, who works specifically with PT textbooks and several on gait analysis, told me that no one has a perfect gait (except maybe Angela Farmer). There are a million factors that contribute to gait (toes, ankles, knees, hips, core, shoulders, so on and so forth) and when just one is “off,” there goes the picture-perfect anatomical model who walks with everything in line. What that means is that even in my dancing heyday I was never perfect, I’m not perfect now, and I never will be. Even so, that won’t stop me from being overly curious and fascinated with other people’s bodies and the way they carry them. And I’ll never stop hating Shape-Ups.

Hairy, scary, weird & wild

Monday, May 9, 2011 in 5Rhythms, Dancing, Food, Weekend | Tags: | 2 comments

This past weekend was full of excitement–opening day of our local farmers market, a trip to Philly for a 5Rhythms class, and an up-close-and-personal encounter with some Scottish Highland hairy cows…and I think they’re somehow all connected, too!

The 5Rhythms class was a big deal for me; it was my first class outside of my “regular” circle of dancers and at a new location as well. Up until this weekend, I had only been attending two meetups in New Jersey, both of which I am a “founding” member–there from the beginning. I feel established at those classes; everything is familiar, I see most of the same faces each month. But there is a class in Philly that I had yet to attend, and up until yesterday I was afraid to go. I don’t know the “regulars” there. I am still kind of nervous driving over the bridge to get to the studio. I wasn’t sure I’d fit in with the already-established tribe.

I kind of feared that my experience at this new and unfamiliar place would be like the batch of early-season strawberries I bought on Saturday at the farmers market:

…that everyone else would be all cool and unique and awesome, and I’d be lil’ old Jen, standing out like a sore thumb, trying so hard to be perfect.

People filtered into the room. We all kind of kept to ourselves, staring at the floor, stretching here and there. Some people greeted each other with a hug. But then the music came on, and the batch of semi-awkward strawberries gradually began to look more and more like a cohesive group.

As it turned out, not all of the dancing strawberries were strangers either. One of fellows there has also been to the Jersey classes, and I had danced with two of the women previously at the Biodanza workshop. Berry buddies! I dance to rock ‘n’ roll music with one of the more withdrawn-looking students, and suddenly there is a connection. We thrash around like ecstatic punk rockers and we so slowly break out into smiles. It’s funny, because we both looked so resistant to letting go even though our bodies were saying BE FREEEEEEEE! At the end of the song, our faces finally flash genuine smiles. We are exhausted. And alive! During a moment of Lyrical, suddenly Jersey guy and I are engaged in a kind of theatrical pas de deux. Some of the exchanges we do are so eloquently executed, it looks like they have been choreographed. How we do not crash into each other is amazing. We are keenly aware of each other’s moves and presence, and the give and take of our motions looks anything but spontaneous.

He is much older than I, and at the end of class he comments how he is always amazed about 5Rhythms’ magic in getting his everyday aches and pains to disappear. I echo his sentiment, noting that dancing 5Rhythms is one of the only forms of exercise that takes my mind off my bum hip. I can walk around the shiniest lake on the most beautiful day in the world, admiring the baby geese, the blue sky, the smiling babies in strollers, but still, with each step, my brain is saying, “Hip. Hip. Hip. Hip.” Even on my best days in yoga, I still have to think below the belt every time I rise into Warrior. But when I’m fully immersed in dancing–when the music, my breath, my heartbeat, my brainwaves–are all in sync, there is freedom. (OK, yeah, so my calves are super-sore for the next two days, but that’s a good kind of hurt.)

By the end of class, despite our ages and races and backgrounds, we all sit there together, glowing, looking very much the same. We’ve just shifted into a bit of a different perspective:

If only I had an easier time approaching new things, like a curious puppy. Here I am, nervous about dancing with new people in a different studio, when this weekend, while at my mother-in-law’s house, we took the family dogs for a walk past a Scottish Highland hairy cow farm.

Talk about new and strange.

Gomukha-WTF?!

In typical Jen fashion, I cautiously approached the fence but stayed on alert in case I needed to dash away and save myself from being impaled. They reminded me of bulls, and the way they let that unkempt hair of their hide their eyes was so devious-punk-rocker. I’m sure they were wearing chains and Metallica tattoos under all that fur. They probably just stole a car, too.

The dogs, however, were fascinated. Pippi sat down in front of the fence as though she were watching TV:

I could learn a lot from these dogs. New 5Rhythms classmates, hairy cows, misshapen strawberries…that’s what this world is–hairy, scary, weird, and wild.

Just gotta approach it with a lil’ trust and love.

Emma, the fearless Weimaraner.

Flashback Friday: Full moon yoga

Friday, May 6, 2011 in Flashback Friday, Yoga | Tags: | 5 comments

Crap, I lost my head again.

My lack of sleep over the past several days is catching up with me big time today, and I have no mental energy to write creatively. I was all set to replace Flashback Friday with The Friday Five and concoct some list of tid-bitty yoga things, but I only got to three bullet points before my brain gave me an out-of-office message and just checked out. That said, I searched my old journal’s archives for something fun to post and came across this hilarious entry about one of craziest yoga classes I’ve ever taken. 

______________________________

Because I’m still in the throes of my personal yoga crisis and deciding what yoga to practice and where, I apprehensively drove to the yoga studio this past Thursday for the vinyasa flow class. And, as if being tested, the minute I entered the studio, there stood two of the “orgasm” ladies, the women who have toothy smiles permanently plastered on their faces, who speak in breathy sighs, and who feel the need to throw in 3 “thank yous” for every door you hold open for them. I walked in as they were discussing macrobiotics, and instantly I felt my blood pressure rise. I actually stood in place for a few seconds, contemplating whether to take off my coat or to just open the door and walk back outside. ::deep breaths:: OK, I’ll stay.

The class turned out to be a lesson in humor and humbleness, because by the end of those 90 minutes, the two women were the last thing on my mind. Here’s a rundown of what happens in a yoga studio on the eve of a full moon:

1. The class, which normally draws in a crowd of 6 to 8 students, suddenly grows to 15. For a small studio, this is a huge surge. Most of the floor is covered in mats, sun salutations have to be modified so our arms don’t clash, and there aren’t enough yoga bricks for everyone.

2. Fifteen minutes into the class, just as we’re emerging from a peaceful meditation, there is commotion at the (locked) front door, which also happens to lead right into the studio. The handle jiggles furiously, a body pushes on the door, and then impatient knocking commences.

3. The teacher unlocks the door and cautiously opens it a sliver, an invitation for a frantic, bundled woman to come barging inside, very loudly exclaiming, “Ohmigod, I thought I’d never get here! The traffic! Whew! Glad I made it!” in the middle of our class. It is 35 degrees outside, and the cold air rushes through the room like a frosty demon.

4. Realizing her faux pas, the woman gasps and apologizes for interrupting. The teacher graciously takes her belongings and fetches her a mat, but then we learn the woman had never even been to the studio before, which means she needs to sign a waiver before participating. Now the teacher needs to fetch the right form and sign the woman in. Oh, and still conduct a class, because class started 15 minutes ago.

5. As soon as the woman gets settled, a car alarm goes off in all its glory outside, like right outside the building. It doesn’t help that the studio is located on the corner of a busy throughway and is already subject to idling trucks, beeping horns, and pedestrian chatter outside. The alarm wails for 2 or 3 minutes, pauses (whew!), but then starts right back up again. This pattern continued for the next hour and 10 minutes.

6. At 6:15, now half an hour into the class, as we’re all sweating our way through sun salutations, a woman, who must’ve silently entered the building from the back door, emerges from the back of the room, yoga mat in hand, and tiptoes through the maze of mats to spread herself out in a cramped corner up front. I think the teacher was so befuddled at this point that she just told the lady to please warm up before doing anything. If things hadn’t been so weird, I’m sure the teacher would have said, “Um, class started 30 minutes ago. I’m sorry, you’ll have to wait for the next class.”

Everything was so obnoxious at that point that it actually became funny. Every time the car alarm paused and then started up again, I couldn’t help chuckling. What could you do at that point? The cool thing, though, was that the SECOND the teacher dimmed the lights for savasana, the car alarm STOPPED. For good. The pure coincidence of it all was enough to make me think that there really is someone up there pulling the strings, having a good time with humanity.

When life gives you burnt popcorn, do some Jivamukti.

Thursday, May 5, 2011 in Dancing, Work, Yoga | Tags: , | 4 comments

I never thought I’d have to cite burnt popcorn fumes as an excuse for missing out on yoga, but today was that day.

My "popcorn" file photo. Clearly, I would have rather smelled this all afternoon than burnt-to-a-crisp fake butter nonsense stuff.

Burnt microwave popcorn is a given in an office environment, but today the perpetrator left the bag in for so long that it had to be seconds away from catching on fire. Smoke was billowing out of the microwave, which, unfortunately, is just a few steps from my cubicle. The resulting smell was AWFUL, and making matters worse is that none of the windows on my side of the building open. The smoke just was not dissipating, and my colleagues and I spent the last hour in the office coughing, blowing our noses, and wiping our watery eyes. I usually hang around the office an extra 40 minutes and then proceed to the yoga studio for class, but all I wanted to do this afternoon was get the hell home. No way was I hanging around any longer than I had to! I spent the entire drive home sucking in air from my rolled-down windows, even though I was driving 65 miles per hour on a windy day. The smoke lingered in my throat and nose, and when I got home I knew that yoga was absolutely necessary (a) to calm me down! and (b) to get my lungs to expel that nasty smoky popcorn air and inhale some long, clean, deep fresh breaths.

I normally just plop on my mat and do a “whatever-comes-to-me” practice, but because I had originally planned on going to a formal studio class, I was in the mood for something a little more structured. I tinkered around on iTunes, very close to choosing my old standby, Phillip Urso’s Baptiste power yoga, but then I thought of Thais’ recent post about her amazing Jivamukti class in DC, and I did the unthinkable: I tried something new. I found Sofi Dillof’s podcast collection on iTunes; she’s got a pretty decent stash of Jivamukti podcasts all ready to roll. Lemme tell you, best choice ever!

The 1-hour, 24-minute class I selected started off with a brief chant, Om’ing, some much-needed kapalabhati breath, a short ‘n’ sweet little talk about moving from Me to We, and then one hell of a phenomenal asana practice. Enough vinyasa flows to have me work up a little sweat (impressive for not being in a heated studio), 5 breaths in each posture (the perfect amount, in my opinion), nothing TOO crazy for the hips, and–my favorite–a revolved triangle thrown in near the end of class during the middle of belly-down postures. It totally threw me for a loop, but OMG that twist felt like heaven, and for a sweet minute my sacrum felt as flat and stable as a coffee table. Three wheels, some shoulderstand, and a fish pose later, I was relaxing in a decent-length savasana, almost fell asleep, and then sat in meditation for another 5 minutes. The best part? My confused brain thought it was later than it was and expected to exit the yoga room into a dark hallway…but it was still bright and sunny! Bonus: I didn’t have to drive home!

Conclusion: I will definitely be listening to some more of Sofi Dillof’s classes. The pacing was perfect, everything was easy to understand despite being an audio-only podcast (just gotta know your Sanskrit!), and I loved the blend of chanting, meditation, lecture, pranayama, and invigorating asana. I had energy to cook dinner after my practice! Usually when I come home from hot yoga I am a big hot mess of laziness and resort to eating a bowl of cereal for dinner. Now I just wish I could find a local studio that offers Jivamukti!

P.S. Jivamukti excites me, but so does this. Are any other die-hard So You Think You Can Dance fans out there? Aside from the news and some sporting events, I haven’t watched real TV in months, but that will all end May 26!

SYTYCD Season 7 tour, Atlantic City. (My 30th birthday present from my husband!)

May the fourth (be with you)

Wednesday, May 4, 2011 in Meditation, Mudras, Yoga | Tags: | 4 comments

I had grand plans to make yesterday “Mudra Tuesday” and write about my fascination with the hands and the powers they possess, but blogging fell by the wayside. But wow, perhaps it was totally meant to work out that way, because today is May 4, and Internetland has seemed to declare it a pun-on-Star-Wars day. I mean, look at Obi Wan up there! An upside-down jnana mudra to convince Stormtroopers that those aren’t the droids they’re looking for?! The force is in your hands, baby!

I first became interested in hand mudras during some of my beginning yoga classes almost 10 years ago. The teacher, JoAnna, would start class with the same spiel every time: “Sit in a comfortable, cross-legged position with your hands on your knees: Palms up, palms down, or fingers in jnana mudra.” She explained that palms up allowed you to be more receptive to others around you, say, on days you were lethargic and needed more energy; palms down was for those days you felt like being a little more introspective and withdrawn, perhaps on days you had too much energy to begin with; and jnana mudra (the gesture of knowledge) was a way to keep the prana circulating through your system, to become more in touch with the energies around and within us. I really dug this mudra stuff, because I had always been extremely aware of the sensitivities in the hands and feet, which are packed with acupressure points, nerves, reflexology points, etc. Days on which I am especially in touch with my yoga practice, I’ll place my hands on the mat for downdog and feel like the ground is speaking to me, like every square inch of rubber is whispering to my palms. The sense of touch will feel as powerful as taste, and holding my hands in anjali mudra or holding onto the bottoms of my feet during Hero pose will pack as much punch as biting into a just-picked Jersey strawberry in late May.

My knowledge of mudras was very basic until I started taking a kundalini yoga class in 2006. Kundalini is heavy on meditation and chanting, usually accompanied by very specific mudras. During some classes, I felt like we used our hands and arms more than any other body part! I liked using different hand positions to channel different intentions, but most of all, I loved the way holding my fingers in a certain position grounded me for meditation. I’ve tried various methods to help me get into the zone–silently repeating “inhale”/”exhale,” focusing on my third eye–but one of my favorites is simply holding a mudra and drawing the focus to the fingers, giving slight pressure on the inhale, relaxing the muscles on the exhale.

My curiosity about mudras led me to buy this book a few years ago. It’s one of my favorite and most-referred yoga books:

It’s kind of an encyclopedia of mudras, including 52 hand mudras and their function as well as lesser-known mudras that involve certain gazes and arm or leg positions. I’d get on kicks where I’d tell myself I’d do a specific mudra for 3 days, document how I felt, and then move on to a new one. It has never lasted long, though.

However, I’m trying this again. Since starting the Chopra Center’s 21-Day Spring Meditation Challenge 3 weeks ago, I have meditated every morning. For 3 weeks! This is HUGE. (More on that to come.) To help me with my meditation, I decided to crack open the mudra manual again and really commit to a specific mudra for a full week. My back has been especially achy this week, so I started with the aptly named Back Mudra.

This is what the right hand does, but I had to demonstrate with my left because I am incapable of using a camera in my left hand.

Left hand in a kind of jnana mudra, with thumb covering index fingernail.

The mudra is supposed to help relieve back pain. A half hour after doing this on Monday, my hip got really wonky and I felt awful. I repeated the mudra yesterday and today and my hip and lower back are still sore and achy. So far, this little experiment is NOT going well. 😦 I’m wondering if maybe tomorrow morning I should give up on Mr. Back Mudra and try Joint Mudra instead (yes, there is one!).

Every so often I’ll bust out in a spontaneous mudra, usually when dancing or practicing yoga. I frequently find myself holding jnana mudra in side angle (the arm that’s propped up on the thigh) or during dancer pose (the arm that’s extended out in front). Sometimes I do it simply to focus my mind on a single point when holding a challenging pose, but sometimes my hands go into the position on their own, usually when I’m really feeling a pose, and perhaps my hands want to seal in the energy churning through me. During those moments, I really do feel like Obi Wan, like there’s so much power channeling through me that I could burn a hole in the wall in front of me if I angled my fingers the right way.

I use mudras a lot when I’m dancing too, especially during the Stillness of 5Rhythms. I have had several Stillness experiences in which nothing but my hands move, and to an outsider it probably looks like I am doing tai chi, classical Indian dance, or some form of sign language. These moves aren’t planned or choreographed; they just come, and they are strong. On days I am especially in tune with my body, I feel like brilliant light is radiating out of my palms and I have no choice but to spread my hands wide and spread the energy. It’s a bit like Spiderman, but instead of a silver web, I’m shooting out beams of light.

This morning, after my failed attempt at the Back Mudra, I did some yoga stretches. While seated upward in Dandasana, my hands unconsciously found their way into this mudra:

At the time, I had no idea what this gesture was called or what it meant. My hands just wanted to go there, and I let them stay there for a while. The top hand was very sensitive, and I felt as though it was pressing against something very light but very powerful, like a wall of electrons or something. It’s hard to explain, but it felt nice. I consulted my mudra book afterward: Turns out the top hand was in Abhaya Mudra, the gesture for promising protection, and the bottom was in Varada Mudra, gesture for granting wishes or mercy.

While sitting there with my hands lookin’ like Buddha’s, I was suddenly transported back to 2006, my trip to Tibet. We had visited monastery after monastery, all filled with giant, towering golden Buddha and Dalai Lama statues, each whose hands were poised in a specific mudra. So as I was thinking of this, my playlist switched over to a new-agey track that included the sounds of Tibetan drums and the chant Om Mani Padme Hum, which is the mantra Buddhists repeat to themselves as they make their pilgrimage to the holy sites of Lhasa. The mudras, the music, the memories…I was overcome by emotion and brought to tears. Indeed, the force was with me this morning.

New blooms

Monday, May 2, 2011 in Real-Life Yoga, YIOM, Yoga | Tags: , | 7 comments

Even though spring officially begins in March and we’re now more than 40 days past that starting point, I still feel like May is when the REAL spring begins. At this point, there’s absolutely no threat of snow, our trees and lawn are unquestionably green, the depressing rain/wind cycles of April have blown by us, and the temperatures are holding steady near the 70-degree mark. People just truly love May! So it’s appropriate then, that with this psychological start of spring—with all the blooming and colors and new life forming around us (it’s baby goose season!!)–that I plant my own new harvest—participation in the YIOM network!

 YIOM

YIOM (“Why I Om”) debuted last month as Yogis Inspiring Oneness Month, a sort of challenge for yoga bloggers to post regularly, if not daily, for one month about all things asana, pranayama, ashtanga, so on and so forth in an effort to form a vast collection of yoga posts from across the country. YIOM’s founder, The VeganAsana, was so successful at corralling this group that she didn’t want to see all of her efforts end after April 30, and thus formed YIOM II—Yoga Inspired Online Movement, an ever-growing network of yogis who blog. I wasn’t part of the original YIOM (I had just started my blog the month before and didn’t know if I could keep up with the challenge), but now that I’m feeling comfortable out here holding onto my precious “Flowtation Device,” I’m excited to join this group and wear the YIOM badge with pride.

To tell you the truth, I had been seeking a network like this for a long time. Before I hurt my hip and had a consistent running regimen, I was all about the fitness blogs, reading about how people fueled for long runs, what their training plans looked like, and what workouts they did on their cross-training days. After the hip went stupid and I had to stop running, these blogs simply depressed me! I no longer wanted to see the photos of their awesome early-morning runs around Central Park at sunrise or read their mile-by-mile race recaps. I had a few food-focused blogs in my Google Reader, but looking at pictures of the step-by-step process of making an omelet (chopping onions! slicing ham! whisking eggs!) or baking muffins (pouring batter in the pan! watching muffins rise through the oven window!) just wasn’t cutting it. I was thirsty for healthy living or holistic blogs, but whenever I searched for something to that effect, all I got were diet, food, workout, and green-living blogs. Not that those things are great—I just wanted something a little more stimulating, posts from people who were inspired by movement in general—not just running—breathing, meditating, appreciating the small wonders around them, learning how to connect more deeply to their soul. A big part of my life had just been eliminated, and I needed to refresh my Google Reader with blogs that were more than just fartleks and foodstuffs. I wanted feeling, depth, stories from people who are also suffering and adapting, simple metaphors about yoga and everyday living that make each day on this earth a little easier to comprehend, posts from yogis who challenge the status quo.

And that’s where YIOM comes in. I haven’t even digested all of the participating blogs yet, but the bloggers whose posts I have read thus far are feeding me. There’s substance here, and their posts make me hungry for more. And I totally want to be a part of it all too! It feels good to be part of a community that gets my posts about yoga. I used to write about my yoga experiences—struggles with the yamas, niyamas, yoga injuries, prana flow—in a restricted-access blog mainly composed of my real-life friends, and I always felt guilty writing about these things because I feared no one would read it or get it, and that it was simply a waste of time. On YIOM, it’s a bit like that beloved show-and-tell from elementary school: We pass around our treasures, and everyone gets a chance to ooh and ahh over our words, wisdom, and stories.

So hooray for May, for new beginnings, for Lorin for planting this little vrksasana sapling and getting it to grow!

P.S. How embarrassing is it that I’m the only blogger without a Twitter account?! (I just don’t like being captive to so many technology outlets.) Whatev, it makes me unique–I totally stand out (like a sore thumb). 😛

About the Author

Name: Jennifer

Location: Greater Philadelphia Area

Blog Mission:
SHARE my practice experience in conscious dance and yoga,

EXPAND my network of like-minded individuals,

FULFILL my desire to work with words in a more creative and community-building capacity;

FLOW and GROW with the world around me!

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