Breathing fast and slow

A couple of months ago, one of my fellow yogis shared with me the following story about listening to me host my weekly live-streamed podcast Out on a Limb . Years ago, she told me, she had watched a documentary that had been narrated by the actor Brad Pitt. Because the audience does not see the actor throughout the film, but only hears his voice, my friend confessed that she felt as though she was hearing the voice of this highly celebrated actor for the first time. By listening only to his voice, she heard a rhythm, a cadence, a mesmerizing quality that she had never before experienced when seeing the actor speak his lines in a movie. That, she explained, was how she felt about hearing my voice these past nine months as the on air host of Out on a Limb . How could I not love this story? Aside from the fact that it was meant as a compliment—which, by the way, is how it was received—it revealed much about the storyteller, my yoga-practicing friend. The story told me something about

Today was the first official cross-country training day for my youngest who will be running this fall with the high school cross-country team. She dressed and ate and was out the door, water bottle in hand, just after 7:30 a.m. Not bad for a teenager who has been enjoying the later, longer mornings summer vacation provides. But she's not teenager enough to drive herself to practice and back again; so, I found myself grumbling as I headed out the door to retrieve her because I hadn't had the time to drink my morning coffee. My grumbling didn't last long. About a mile from where I was to pick up my daughter, I came to an abrupt stop. Traffic like this meant only one thing. An accident. And not a minor one. Up ahead, car after car was abandoning its place in traffic, executing sharp U-turns for a better way around the congestion. Now I was going to be late, I thought, but only very briefly because the thought that came next would challenge everything I took for granted as a

I am thinking of the peonies I bought at the market during the last days of spring--a couple of weeks ago now--their rich deep burgundy color defining for me, each time I passed them in their vase, something regal and majestic. But it wasn't simply the color that would force me to look at them again and again. It was the orchestrated way each bud chose to open. Swiftly at first, then a protracted unfolding, bending back on itself and opening so completely--like one's heart in urdhva dhanurasana (full wheel pose)-- that I was thoroughly convinced of the natural order of things. In the end, we become a thing of beauty. We have nothing left to do and nowhere we wish to hide. "Our being is silent," wrote the Trappist contemplative Thomas Merton. All the reason I need to feel a kinship with those flowers in the vase. Silent beings--every one of them--content in their stillness. Of course, Merton lived robustly before entering the monastery and finding his new freedom w

"A gem cannot be polished without friction, nor a man perfected without trials."  --Seneca This morning, a man approached me at the gas station as I was getting back inside my car--a full tank ready to be used at my command. He asked me if I could spare a couple of dollars to help him pay for a tank of gas. I handed over a few bills, and he thanked me. He also told me how sorry and ashamed he was for having to ask. He said that part several times until I began to feel sorry and ashamed for not having to worry about having enough money for a tank of gas. An errand took me across the street where I observed this man and his wife taking turns with this uncomfortable task, partners as well in the consequent humiliation it triggered. Earlier this week, I attended the memorial service for a colleague's husband who died suddenly from cardiac arrest one day last week. Like that. After dinner and with no warning. He was 64. Moments ago, I had a phone call from a friend who

When I held the door open last week for a mother of two toddlers, both seated in a stroller on steroids, I was performing a very small act of kindness. I recognized that look of fatigue on the mother's face. I saw, too, that she was entirely capable of navigating her children through public spaces in the over-sized stroller; but, there I was, standing right next to the door she was aiming to exit. It was natural to offer this gesture of camaraderie--mothers-in-arms, you know. So, I held the door for her, and as she accepted the gesture and passed through--obviously appreciative of the few seconds of unencumbered bliss--she thanked me and added, "That was really very nice of you." It is a truth about the world. We often go unrecognized for our daily efforts. How could it be otherwise, right? One person's feat of courage or kindness or tireless perseverance can look to another as a simple matter of rising from one's bed at the appointed hour. I try not to seek rec

"The earth is a church floor whereupon  In the middle of a glorious night  Walks a slave, weeping, tied to a rope behind a horse,  With a speechless rider  Taking him toward the unknown."                     -- Hafiz The earth is a church floor whereupon I have placed my mat. On that mat, I have learned to place my hands and my knees, my arms and my legs. Front body. Back body. They have been laid there, too. I have trained my forehead to come to rest on forearms, on shins, in the cradle I am told to practice making of my feet. Almost like a cup I could drink from in the desert if I had to. These bare soles, I have placed upon my mat, on the earth, where I have prayed in a church of slow motion through the minutes of many hours. I have learned to wait for those hours to teach my breath what it is I might do next. It whispers, "Here is another lesson for the heart." I practice not growing weary.  Simon says, "Your will knows no end in me," and

During the puja celebration to honor the reopening of Pacific Ashtanga Yoga Shala at its new location in Dana Point earlier this month, Director and Lead Instructor Diana Christinson presented each participating member of her ashtanga yoga community with a red thread. This red thread is known as a kalava and is used in Hindu ceremonies (or pujas ) as a symbol of unity for a community--in this case, the community of ashtangis who practice with Diana at her shala. When Diana presented these threads to us, she asked us to set an intention for ourselves and to commit ourselves to manifesting that intention in our lives. When we were ready, we were instructed to return with our kalava and share with her in a simple private ceremony the intention we had set for ourselves. Diana, then, would tie this thread around our wrists where it would remain as a symbol of what we were ready to welcome into our lives. For me, this puja thread is now a reminder of the following vow I have set for m

For better or worse, change is always happening. So we are told. So I have written previously here. It is dependable in that way. Everything will turn into something else. Guaranteed. This is a comfort, the Buddhists tell us, the natural order of things. Consider for a moment how life constantly reveals this to us. A tree grows. A garden flowers. A child learns to walk. The laws of attraction, like momentum, keep life in motion: push, pull, yin, yang, ebb, flow. Hopes rise and fall. The moon waxes and wanes. And every once in a while, as it did this week, even this celestial body is eclipsed by the shadow of our blue planet. Strange, somehow, that we should think all the more of it then as it passes into shadow. The phenomenon increases our wonder perhaps because it increases our faith in our own transformations. A hummingbird has built her nest among the branches of one of our scraggly rose bushes outside our front door and just inside the front yard gate. I watched her build it for

The history of ashtanga yoga sounds like the sort of tale J.R.R. Tolkien could have invented. While it is devoid of hobbits and wizards, elves and dwarfs, ashtanga's earliest beginnings include the stuff of legends: the curing of a British Lord; the granting of a wish; training from an old guru living in a cave in Tibet; rites of passage; an ancient unbound text, written in an old language--Sanskrit--on sheets of papyrus, kept in a library in a remote part of Calcutta; and a devoted student who goes in search of the library, visiting it daily to copy the text by hand. In the end, something ancient survives. There is no one ring--gold and precious--that is taken from deep within a mountain cave and out into the world of men where it threatens to wreck havoc. What emerges instead is a different kind of precious element, what the cave-dwelling Tibetan guru called "a jewel of priceless value" that his student, a young Krishnamacharya--the father of modern yoga--was instruct

Imagine the whole world laughing...or learning to laugh a little more. Find out the secret when you listen to Jeffrey Briar, founder of Laguna Beach Laughter Yoga Club, in conversation with me today on Out on a Limb . Here is a link to this latest episode of the Out on a Limb podcast. It will make your diaphragm feel jolly. Promise. http://kx.onelaguna.com/podcasts Experience laughter yoga for yourself by attending class with Jeffrey and his fellow mirth-making yogis in Laguna Beach, on the beach below Heisler Park, Sunday through Friday at 8 a.m. or Saturday at 10 a.m. Follow this link to his website and share the ananda , the bliss: http://lyinstitute.org/ Time moved too quickly today for the following announcements of upcoming yoga happenings. Sangita Yoga: The yoga of music Open House, Saturday, April 12, 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. Back Bay Center 2675 Irvine Avenue, Suite 100 Costa Mesa, CA  92727 Enjoy a live presentation of the sacred music of India with Naren K. Schre

A word about Out on a Limb : With every new endeavor, I become the earnest student again. I am a pilgrim on a new path, traveling always toward that place of greater awareness. I do believe it is a sacred realm because in that place we discover who we are meant to be. The truth, however, is that beginnings are humbling tasks. I must learn one more time that before awareness expands in a new direction, it first must shatter. What shatters inevitably brings fresh resolve and, not only a renewed focus, but new eyes. Still, it's a process, and the learning curve has its own arc that I must bend with. And so, I would like to thank all of my early supporters of Out on a Limb and all those who continue to agree to join me in weekly conversation as both guests and listeners. Thank you for your willingness to extend to me a little bit of faith in a project that is quickly taking on a life of its own. Last week: Sunday, March 23 If you missed last Sunday's  live broadcast of Out o

It may be when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work, and that when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey.         --Wendell Berry Sometimes, life runs smoothly. I sleep well. I get my work done. I feel good about myself, my family, our life, the dog. Like Goldilocks sitting in baby bear's chair, life is just right. So good, in fact, that I attach myself to those good feelings and that smooth running life. Sometimes, life simply runs, as in it gets away from me. Events don't go as planned. Feelings of helplessness set in, occasionally a sense of hopelessness follows. Finally, I feel foolish for thinking that I ever had any of it under control. Once again I'm like Goldilocks, this time complaining that things are too hot or too cold and not at all exactly right. It's odd, but I get attached to those feelings as well. The truth is, I lose heart as often as I accept a challenge. I feel compassion for others as inten

Andres at rest with his art. If you missed yesterday's live broadcast of Out on a Limb , click on the link below to hear me in conversation with Earth Scape Artist Andres Amador. Our theme today: Impermanence and Sacred Geometry. Here is the link to today's podcast at KX @ One Laguna: http://kx.onelaguna.com/podcasts/ Here is the link to find Andres Amador and learn more about his art: http://www.andresamadorarts.com/ Next week: Sunday, March 23 at 2 p.m. Join me for live conversation with Lobbyist Roger Faubel. We will talk about how yoga and mindfulness have transformed this one lobbyist's approach to doing business with Orange County's political and corporate movers and shakers.

If you missed today's live broadcast of Out on a Limb , click on the link below to hear me in conversation with Ashtanga yoga teacher Diana Christinson of Pacific Ashtanga Yoga in Dana Point. Our theme today: Gratitude. We talk about learning how to tune in to the present moment to cultivate gratefulness in our lives, which, like our yoga practice, is an art, a practice, a dance. Listen as Diana gives instructions for how to conduct and navigate our own "Google Search" of our lives lived daily. Here is the link to today's podcast at KX @ One Laguna: http://kx.onelaguna.com/podcasts/ Here is the link to find Diana Christinson and her shala Pacific Ashtanga in Dana Point, CA: http://www.pacificashtanga.com/ Finally, here is the link to Brother David Steindl-Rast's website: http://www.gratefulness.org/ Next week: Sunday, March 16 at 2 p.m. Join me for live conversation with Earth Scape artist Andres Amador. We will talk about the "sacred geometry

I have to remind myself when our youngest daughter comes home from school with a fresh from the front report about some eighth grade injustice she experienced that day to give her story time to settle around her before I offer any comments. It is her story, after all. I haven't been in eighth grade for a long time. Even though I like to think I know what hasn't changed all that much in the life of a 13-year-old, there is some truth to that claim of hers she'll occasionally toss my way if I offer advice too soon--or too apparently dated. You just don't get it . True enough, I'll admit. And in the next instant, I'll recognize--appropriately, with a touch of melancholy--that I am now on the other side of that invisible but undeniable line that Louis Armstrong acknowledged in his song What a Wonderful World : I hear babies cry, I watch them grow, They'll learn much more, Than I'll ever know.  This is the toughest part of being a parent, the part t