Halloween

Today feels to me like the end of a lot of things.  Halloween, October 31, falls on Friday this year, so it's the end of a work week as well as the end of a month that seemed to race past.

It's also the end of a particularly busy week that included the busy day last Sunday, with yoga workshop, teaching, and the Composers Society concert.  That launched 5 straight days of yoga teaching in addition to work, that ended with back to back classes last night.

I'm enjoying it very much, but I'm ready for a weekend without a lot of obligations.  It will be busy enough - I will be working on a presentation I'll make on Monday afternoon, and have my Sunday yoga class to prepare for and teach.  But in comparison, that's a very light load.

Meanwhile, it's Friday night -- Halloween -- yet this looks like it will be the second year in a row that we have had no one come by to Trick or Treat.  There aren't many children in the neighborhood, and there seems to be a continuing trend away from what used to be an annual ritual of families going door to door in search of candy.

Yet Another Moment

After work, I drove up to Fulton, Maryland, to teach a class at The Happy Yogi.  The day had been gray, with a little bit of rain.  I was in the front of the studio when suddenly the trees outside, in various stages of turning color for fall, were lit up  with the warm, golden light of the sun, as it lowered toward the horizon and the light streamed in under the western edge of the clouds.  The trees shined bright against the gray backdrop, the intensity slowly waning as the sun set.

Just For a Moment

On Tuesdays I leave the house at 7 to walk to work.  Mondays and Fridays I leave later, and Wednesdays and Thursdays earlier.  Tuesday is the morning that I see the most people out - partly because it's the time when the high school kids are waiting for the bus.  But there are also dog walkers, joggers, and cyclists out that time of day.

As I approached the Metro station, about 7:20, the sun rose above the horizon.  I couldn't see it, but I knew because the sky suddenly was streaked with red as the light reflected off several layers of scattered and wispy clouds.  It was a glorious sight, but changed step by step.  Within just a few seconds the color had faded away, a reminder to pay attention, and be open to the beauty that presents itself, even if just for a moment.

A Too Long Day, Year 2

I have been revisiting posts from last year.  It's interesting to see what I was writing about then, and, in keeping with yesterday's post, to reflect on what is similar and what is different a year later.

Yesterday, I had a very busy day.  It started with a 9 am workshop, the final session in a series that had started Friday morning - vigorous, challenging yoga.  Then I came home for lunch, followed by an 8 mile bike ride with Pam.  Next was a trek to Takoma Park to teach a yoga class - with a quick stop on the way to pick up some fruit for the final commitment of the day - the fall concert of a composers group that I am president of.  It was almost 11 pm before I got home.

The day was long, busy, but not overly tiring.  I simply did each thing as it came, finished it, and moved on to the next.  I enjoyed the morning workshop.  The bike ride was brisk, invigorating.  The yoga class was the best I have taught.  The concert and aftermath - reception and packing everything up, closing the venue at the end - was long but enjoyable.

I looked back to see what was happening this time last year, in 2013.  This was the post for the corresponding Sunday, a year and a day ago:  A Too Full Day - a busy day involving yoga and a Composers' Society concert.

This year's experience was more settled, less stressful.  But last year's dinner recipe was better.  I need to try that one again, soon.

Live Life Well

Consider three things needed to live life well - commitment, action, and reflection.

You need to understand what is important to you - what you are willing to commit to.  What inspires you.  What you are devoted to.

You have to act.  Action consistent with your commitment is best, is aligned with your life.  Action can be effective, or ineffective, skillful or unskillful.  Skillful action will support your commitments.

Reflection provides the feedback loop to keep your actions aligned with what matters to you.  By paying attention to the results of your actions, you learn from them, so that future actions become even more skillful, more effective.

Reflection is also directed at your commitment.  You may have thought something was very important to you, that it deserved your dedication and commitment.  With more experience, and with discerning, honest reflection, you may find it less worthy of your time, your life's energy, leading to a new, more powerful commitment.

Do not be frozen because you aren't certain of your commitments, or the skill of your action.  Commit to the highest and best thing that you can, and act as skillfully as you can.  But don't be attached to either your commitment or the results of your action.  With discerning reflection, you can change, adapt, grow.  You can commit to better things, you can act more skillfully.

Through this process you live a life of purpose and accomplishment, your actions aligned to the direction of your inner self.

Perfect

While last weekend was windy, full of the fall spirit of energy and transition, this weekend is more settled, with gentle breezes and pleasant warmth in the sunlight.

The wind and rain that we've had has stripped the tree tops of the earliest-turning foliage.  This won't be one of those years where the trees turn color and then stand for a while, postcard picture perfect.

I walked through the neighborhood in the afternoon.  The shade was cool, the sunny spots warm.  Fall flowers are blooming, and the overall feeling of the day was that there was still a lot of life in full presence, even as the trees are pulling back to rest for the winter.

The leaves on a tree up ahead began to shimmer and rustle as a breeze blew through.  Soon, I felt it cool on my skin, moderating the heat from the bright sunlight.  Then and there, the world seemed perfect.

Double Down on Attention

I've written several times about distraction.  Seems to be a recurring theme.  That's great, because it presents an opportunity to practice.

The technique is simple, thought not necessarily easy.   When I notice myself being distracted - when I'm walking home with all of nature to experience and feel the urge to check email on my phone - I simply decline the distraction and double down on my attention to what's around me.

I had one of these moments today, walking home after a yoga workshop.  As soon as I made the conscious choice to keep my attention with me on my walk, my awareness expanded, and my senses heightened to the sights, sounds and scents of a beautiful fall day.  I was very glad that I had rejected the offer of distraction.

Morning - October 23, 2014

The top of the tree canopy, out across Rock Creek Park and beyond, is beginning to turn color.  Above, the sky is deep, pure blue, shading to pale - nearly white - toward the southern horizon.  In the sky are two layers of clouds.  The higher one hangs, motionless, as near as I can tell.  Beneath it, there is another layer - long bands of white and gray, sliding quickly along from west to east.

I perceive the clouds as moving through the air, since I can see the clouds, but not the air around.  In reality, the clouds are part of the air, and it is the entire atmosphere that is moving.  The cloud isn't a separate thing in the atmosphere.  It isn't like an airplane - a solid object that moves through the air.

The difference between a cloud and a similar volume of air that you can't see is just the amount of moisture present.  Air with enough moisture forms larger droplets that reflect light.  What looks like a completely different phenomenon from the invisible air is simply the result of a threshold being crossed.  When there's enough water in the atmosphere, we can see it.  There's no difference in kind, just in degree.

Clouds are visible atmosphere.  Energy from the sun can heat the air so that the moisture moves back to the invisible state.  Indeed, in the course of 15 minutes or so, the upper layer of clouds slowly, almost imperceptibly, melts away into the blue sky, while the clouds below continue to stream from one horizon to the other.

Om and the Etch-a-Sketch Principle, Redux

As the Mindful Day blog heads into its second year, I've been thinking that it might be interesting to look back at posts from the year before.

After work today, I taught a yoga class in which I introduced the idea of Om as a mind-clearing vibration, analogous to how shaking a cluttered Etch-a-Sketch clears its screen.  When I looked back at posts from October 2013, I found my original post about this.

So I offer as today's topic - just a little over a year later - Om and the Etch-a-Sketch Principle, Redux

Why Practice?

I want to be positive about thing in my life.  Not everything is a good thing.  Somethings are painful.  I can still be positive in how I react.  That's why daily practice is important.

I practice letting go of the little aggravations daily - in actuality, it's a continual practice.  I feel better right away.  But most importantly, this discipline of practice, when it is relatively easy and the stakes or low, better prepares me to let go of the bigger things - things that potentially could bring me crashing down - when they come my way.  Inevitably, they will.  My practice strengthens me, little by little.

Shadow Show

Yesterday afternoon the sun was streaming through the back windows, casting sharp shadows on the floor from the trees outside.  The shadows, leaf and limb shaped, were animated by the gusty breeze.

The most energetic gusts sped the movement up so much that my eye could no longer distinguish the shapes.  It was the same feeling I have watching a movie in fast forward.  Then the wind would subside, the motion would slow, and the shapes once again emerged from the blur.

What's Up with Fall?

What's up with Fall?  Energy, that's what - invigorating, stimulating, agitating energy.  I used to think Fall was just Fall. Maybe it felt different - that headlong rush toward the end of the year and the holidays that always seem like they should be fun (and often are), but which are often stressful as well.  

It's a time of much transition, but I didn't think more of it. Growing up, fall was always back to school, and my birthday, and Halloween, and then Thanksgiving.  Then it was on to winter, and Christmas and New Years.  No wonder things were hectic.

But if Fall is inherently a time of transition and agitating energy, how does that affect my life?  I find it is harder to keep my focus, to find calmness and stability.  My mind bursts with things that must be done, leaping ahead to one thought without finishing the one before, building up the anxiety of so much to do, and so little time.

How can I stay grounded, keep to the calm waters, while everything around is trying to pull me into the rapids and over the falls?  To start, I give priority to meditation, particularly first thing in the morning, to set a solid foundation for the day.  I recognize the signs of stress and chaos in the mind - not as a normal, acceptable state - but as a state of dis-ease that needs attention.  

One of the most powerful techniques, in response to mental scatter concerned with a whole day's (or week's - or month's) worth of tasks as if they all need attention at once - is to bring myself back to one thing.  I focus on just one thing, and set to do it with my full attention.  Even with simple things - things that we so often try to "multi-task," like making coffee, feeding the cats, putting clean dishes away - bringing my mind back to my breath and completing the task with full attention does wonders for me.  It settles down my mind and brings me toward that state of flow, where I'm doing things without second guessing myself, and without worrying about other things that need to be done - and will be done when the time is right - but for which investing my mind now is simply pointless.

Air

This morning was crisp, with blue sky and warmth in the sunlight.  A stiff breeze swirled leaves around along the street as we went to the farmers market.

Air.  It's all around us, all the time.  If it wasn't, we would die in minutes, as we are more dependent on the oxygen it brings us than on any other thing.  Yet it is invisible to us.

Strange that something so vital, that immerses us, is practically imperceptible, seeming like empty space.  But how dense, how packed with molecules it must be, that the tiny vibrations of a cat's footstep on the hall floor are carried to my ear.

The swirling leaves made visible the movement of the air, revealing indescribable complexity in the movement.  Rushing this way and that, backtracking, circling around, dashing and darting.  Speeding along, then fluttering to a stop.  How amazing would it be to see all the movement in the air around me?  It might be the most mind-blowing experience I can imagine.

An Autumn Day

Today was a busy and productive day.  My mind was busy when I woke up, and did not fully quiet during morning meditation.

The walk to work was quintessential autumn - blue sky, cool air, leaves scattering the ground and increasing color in the trees.

Mid-day seemed almost perfect as the sun provided just the right amount of warmth and the whole world was bright under the blue sky.

The sun put on a show as it set, lighting up a band of clouds with a deep, golden red glow  that gradually darkened toward purple.  A jet passing above the clouds headed south and another passing below on approach to the airport were tiny, providing a better sense of the grand scale of the sunlit cloud.

Staying Positive When Things Blow Up

I had just arrived at an 8:30 am meeting when my cell phone rang. It was one of my branch chiefs, saying that the security guards wouldn't let a consultant we had hired into the building because they had a drivers license from Maine and no other ID.

We had all the staff scheduled to start a two day writing workshop at 9:00, and the teacher couldn't get into the building, due to a new law that required IDs to be compliant with new federal security standards, which several States have decided not to follow.

I'll let be for the time being the issue of the absurdities of our security state, that prohibit access to government buildings by U.S. citizens that the government has contracted with to provide training to its staff.

The crisis at hand was that if we couldn't get the contractor into the building, we'd have to cancel the training.  My initial reaction was, "I don't know if there's a solution, but I'll see what I can do."   A key to not being pulled down the stress and anxiety hole was accepting that there might not be a solution, and we'd have to cancel the training.

I reminded myself of my intention to be positive in all things, and that this was a good test of my ability to live out that intention.

By the time I had walked down the stairs two floors to my office level, I had remembered that there was a conference room outside the security area.  I walked down to let the staff know that there might be a change of plans, then went back up a floor to the desk of the woman who schedules that room.  I explained our dilemma and was happy to find that the room was not scheduled, and that we could use it for both days.

We were able to proceed with the training as planned, other than starting a few minutes late.  This positive outcome was by no means guaranteed.  The room could have been in use, or the key staff needed to work it out could have been unavailable on such short notice.  Being willing to accept both outcomes - the one I preferred and the one I didn't - made it much easier to stay positive and work through the situation.

It's Now, Now What?

Connecting with the breath helps keep me in the present.

It's Now, Now What?
The coolness of the floor on bare feet.
Pulling in a deep breath of fresh ground coffee.
The touch of cloth on skin while dressing.
Warmth of a cat brushing against my leg.
It's Now, there is nothing else.

Starting the Day Right

One of the fundamental tools of yoga and meditation is maintaining a connection between mind and breath.  Or, put another way, to have some part of your mind aware of the breath, as it moves in and out of the body, even as you are engaged in other things.

The breath is a sensitive instrument to indicate the quality of your experience.  It changes when you are frightened, excited, calm, anxious, tense, worried, focused, agitated, relaxed.  It is an almost magical connector between mind and emotions, because just as the breath reflects what is happening to you, the mind can influence (I'm intentionally not saying control) the breath, and the quality of the breath can educe the corresponding physical and emotional state.

Consciously calming the breath, slowing and lengthening it, can bring more ease to the body and mind.  More rapid, energetic breathing can heighten senses and alertness.

All that as a bit of an introduction to the simple topic for today.  I am breathing constantly, and the breath is always happening in the present.  Keeping a connection between my mind and my breath keeps my mind in the present as well.  Keeping my mind in the present lets me experience life more fully, and helps me find and stay in the flow state I described yesterday.

I've come to appreciate the value of making that connection as soon after I rise in the morning as possible.  The first few minutes are sometimes a bit groggy, but as my awareness rises and senses my swirling, unfocused mind, I know it's time to connect, to plug in.  I often turn to the simple practice I described a few days ago - Yoga, Short and Sweet, and then carry that awareness with me the rest of the day.

Getting to Flow

I had one "most important thing" to do today.  That was to get my father's 2013 income taxes filed.  I'd bailed out last April and filed for a 6 month extension.  I had them prepared and copied, but hadn't found the time to double check them and package them up for mailing.

I thought it would be the first thing I did after breakfast, and then it would be clear sailing for the rest of the day.  But it wasn't the first thing I did, or the second.  I wasn't intentionally procrastinating, but as I finished one thing another would appear, and it seemed right to do it rather than try to stick it on a mental to-do list, which I've found becomes another source of stress.

I felt that I was in a flow, where I was participating in the actions but not "doing" them.  That is, it didn't seem that I was exerting any effort, either mentally or physically.  I didn't lose track of my most important thing.  Rather than feeling as if I was avoiding it, I felt I was building up momentum that would carry me through it once it came up in the queue.

Moving from one task to the next seemed inevitable, not like I was making a decision.  I was just moving from one obvious thing in the present, to the next.  It also seemed that the actions took no time.  I knew that the clock was ticking, outside of the flow, and that when I finished I would see that some time had elapsed.  But in the moment, I had no sense that one task was taking a particular amount of time.  I had no time expectation, so my mind wasn't running the background task of Time Monitor, constantly whispering "this is taking longer than you thought it would," "this is taking too much time," "you feel anxious" etc.

When the most important thing became the next thing to do, I gathered up the documents and mailing supplies and set to work.  It wasn't as straightforward as it might have been, and my subconscious anticipation of that complexity may have been why I hadn't finished it sooner, but I was well into the flow, so one thing just followed another, taking no effort, taking no time, until it was done.

A Belated Birthday and a Couple of Scrapes

Mindful Day turned a year old 10 days ago.  October 2, 2013, was the first post.  The impetus was the federal government shutdown that sent us all home in a state of limbo, not knowing when we'd go back to work.  The blog gave me something to do - something I hadn't done consistently before.

So now I'm into the second year.  I haven't posted every day, but most.  It has helped me document some of the interesting things I have seen and done, and also been a motivator to look more closely at things, to pay attention, and to think about what seems important and why.

We went for another bike ride today, up Sligo Creek trail to Wheaton Regional Park, where we explored a few new trails before heading back.  About a mile from home, I came around a corner and the trail ahead was filled with people.  Usually people stay to one side of the trail and leave at least a little room to maneuver, but not this time.

I hit the back brake and the wheel skidded out on the leaves on the trail.  I managed to ride the skid a bit so I wasn't going full speed when I hit the rough asphalt, but I knew it was going to hurt.  I ended up with a broad scrape on my right leg below the knee, and a nickle-sized round deep scrape and contusion on the side of my right foot right behind the big toe.  The sock and the shoe also have nickle-sized round holes.   I expect I will heal, but the sock and shoe will not.

I was riding too fast for that stretch of trail.  It would have been fine if not for the people.  But I know the trail is busy on nice days like today, and needed to be more mindful of the situations I might encounter.

Farm Visit

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain pelting the roof.  I wanted to just stay in bed.  But I also wanted to go with a group from Willow Street Yoga to Rocklands Farm - and I had agreed to be a car pool driver.  So, after a bit, I got up and began to get ready.

Rocklands Farm is perhaps a typical small farm near a big city.  It has a diverse business growing vegetables and several types of farm animals for community supported agriculture, is a venue for weddings and other events, and has started a small winery.

By the time we got to the farm, the rain had stopped.  Of course, everything was wet, and the air was cool and damp.

Our first activity was an hour of yoga in the barn.  The barn isn't used for farming anymore, but as a rustic event space.  It also isn't heated, and the temperature was just in the mid 50s.  The floor was heavy, unfinished, wood planks - warped to various degrees.  This environment brought a little more edge and immediacy to the practice.

Next, we went for a tour of the farm.  We met Scout, an energetic farm dog who believes humans exist to throw a tennis ball for her to chase.  We looked at their fall garden - sweet potatoes, turnips, radishes, arugula and other greens, and much more.  Then we hiked out across the wet pasture to a fenced area with the free range laying hens.  After watching them for a while, we went on, past a couple of wary sheep, to another area where the pigs are kept.  There were all ages and sizes, scattered over the hillside when we walked up, but over the next few minutes they congregated over by us, until the farm guide was worried they would find a way through the fence, as the electric fence seemed to not be working.

We went back to the barn building for lunch, then shopped for farm produce before heading home down River Road, past the ridiculous mega mansions of Potomac, and back into the heavy city traffic on the Beltway.

Taking it all in

I walked home from work today, eyes and ears wide open, consciously taking in as broad a view as possible, trying to see and hear everything around me.

The day was a bit unsettled.  It rained a little, a fall front was moving through.  The birds were very active.  I heard one singing that I didn't recognize.  A woodpecker hammered away in an oak tree, and there were always some birds in sight.

Each day the volume of falling leaves is increasing, and colors - reds, browns, and yellows - are beginning to spread through the tree canopies.

58 Times Around the Sun

58.  It's not a very large number.
It costs more, in $, to fill the car up with fuel, and quite a bit more for a typical weekly trip to the grocery store, or for restocking pet supplies.  It is just a little more than the number of weeks in a single year, and less than the number of days in two months.
I remember when $58 was more than enough to buy almost any single item of clothing I was interested in, but now it's easy to spend that on a basic pair of pants or a shirt.
But as an age, it seems like a bigger number.  Perhaps that's because it's approaching the age when people think about retiring, or because it's well into the age range that people think of as "grandparent land," and of course, grandparents must be old.  Or because it's well past the midpoint of what anyone could expect to be their numbered years on earth.
Having turned 58 today, it doesn't seem like a very big number at all.  And it doesn't seem all that important, because I realize that my life is lived from day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute.  If I get to enjoy more minutes, hours, and days, the years will pass as they do, until they don't.

In the meantime, I just want to enjoy the experience.

I have another fox sighting to report.  Today's was before dawn, about a block from my previous evening sighting.   This time the fox was a shadow streaking across the street at full speed about half a block ahead.  If I hadn't been looking in that direction in that instant, I never would have known it was there.

Early Morning Sky

One of my favorite things about this time of year is seeing Orion, Gemini, and the Pleiades on a clear morning.  This morning I left the house a little before 6am on the way to teach an early morning yoga class.  The street was wet and littered with leaves from last night's heavy rain.

As I started up the street, I looked up and saw a bright planet overhead.  I was a bit startled by it, as I had expected it to still be cloudy, or the sky to be hazy with moisture at least.  I looked up where I thought Orion would be, and was greeted with a clear, bright view.  Even the Pleiades, which are usually a fuzzy glow to my naked eye, were brighter and sharper than normal.  I looked back to the north and saw the Big Dipper standing on it's handle, and Polaris off to the west.

The moon caught my attention next.  Setting down toward the west, the lower right crescent was lit, but the shadowed part was brighter than usual with an odd colored glow.  I was seeing the blood moon eclipse, thought I didn't know that until a bit later.

Certainly the most stunning sky view for me in a long time.

Yoga, Short and Sweet

Short and sweet yoga start to day - two full breaths. 

Stand - inhale, with attention on breath. 
Exhale - allow weight to ground firmly into earth. 
Inhale - arms out to side and up, look up. 
Exhale - arms down. 

30 seconds or so. Practicing yoga doesn't have to be a huge endeavor. All it takes is mindful connection of breath and movement.  

Of course, once the body starts moving, it's hard to stop with just this.  Like potato chips - "bet you can't eat just one."

A Very Full Day

On the way to work this morning, I passed two does with fawns, wandering down the yards along the street munching various plants, trees and shrubs.  On the way home, after dark, I saw another fox - or perhaps the same one I've see before.

In between these urban wildlife sightings, I had a work day that teetered on the edge of overwhelming for much of it.  There is so much going on - so many projects - so many things to respond to, to track, to check in on.  One of those days when it wasn't easy to determine the most important thing to do; when it seemed that there were many things that, if not the most important, were important enough to require attention.

I have a feeling it's going to be this way for a while.

Changing Seasons, Changing Clothes

Change is happening all around, all the time, but often doesn't rise into my attention.  Today, change was in the forefront.

I woke this morning feeling warm under the bed covers, but I could tell that the room was chillier than it has been since early last spring.  That was enough excuse to stay tucked in for another half hour.  When I got up, I found that the temperature outside was 37 degrees.   A seasonal temperature, to be sure, since we're heading into the second week of October.  

We went for another bike ride today, heading down the Sligo Creek Parkway and Trail all the way to the Northwest Branch in Hyattsville, and compared to last week there were a lot of fallen leaves.  This, even though most of the trees are still carrying a full canopy of green and only a few trees, like the dogwoods, are showing obvious fall color.

I did more wardrobe changes today than is typical.  First, comfortable sweats to tackle the morning chill.  After a light breakfast, changing into clothes for yoga class.  Later, jeans and a warm shirt for a shopping trip, then another change for the bike ride.  After that, work jeans and old shoes to mow the grass, and then back into the sweats for a comfortable evening.

It's 6:20 pm and the light outside is dimming enough that I'll soon turn the light on here in the front room.  The long days of summer are gone for another year.

Windy Energy

I stepped outside this afternoon for a walk in the sunshine.   I noticed it was breezy and chilly as a result, looked around, and saw a hawk perched on the utility wire above the street.  I see hawks on occasion, flying through the forest canopy, but had never seen one here, right in front of the house.  I walked a bit closer, and the bird hopped around to face the other way.  Then a few more steps and I was uncomfortably close - for the hawk - which spread its wings and flew across the street, disappearing quickly in the tree tops.

The wind was swirling overhead as I walked down the street toward the park.  Looking up, I saw a vortex of leaves swirling overhead, blowing this way and that, and eventually twirling, gliding, twisting or tumbling to the ground.  Each leaf has its own style of dance.

I walked on down to the park, crossed the creek on the log by the playground, and sat on my usual sitting rock for a while, enjoying the sound of the flowing water and the amber sunlight glittering off the surface.

After a bit I walked farther downstream and found another rock to sit on - this one a single boulder out toward the center between the two banks, but accessible by a bar of cobbles.

My energy was scattered and swirling like the wind.   I took a long way home, heading down some unbeaten paths, doing whatever came to mind - balancing on a staircase rail, walking backwards up a hill, enjoying the freedom of being alive.

New Connections

Teaching yoga at work has put me in touch with many new people.  People with jobs that aren't connected with mine.  We have worked in the same building for years, riding the elevator together, coming and going without having any reason to notice each other, no reason to connect.

Then along comes yoga.  Yoga doesn't care if you are administrative staff or an executive or about the topic of your work. The issues of mind-body connection affect everyone.  As a result of the posters I've put up around the building, people stop me in the hall and ask - "are you the person in that picture?" or "are you the person teaching yoga?" and I get an opportunity to meet another interesting person - and they are all interesting.

I think people can sense how genuine, positive and joyful I am about it, and are then motivated to come try out either the full class at the fitness center or my lunchtime "yoga light" class.  This is transforming my experience in the workplace, because the potential number of people I have a reason to interact with has expanded from several dozen who I interact with regularly in my work to everyone who might be interested in, or benefit from, healthy movement and mind-body connection.  Pretty much everyone.

Something Familiar, Something New

Some days I intentionally look for something around me that I've never seen before.  Though I've been walking the same paths to work and back for over ten years, I can easily find things that I've never really noticed - never paid attention to.

Wednesday morning, I noticed a row of evergreens, trimmed like gumdrops on a stick, that I had not ever paid attention to.  I didn't find them particularly attractive, but it was interesting to notice them and wonder who made the choice - and why - to trim them that way.

Tonight, arriving on a familiar corner with some time to wait before the light changed, I turned away from the street and observed the scene reflected in the polished granite wall of the corner building.

Familiar things are nice to notice, too.  It's fall, it's dark later in the morning and earlier in the evening each day.   I was up early today to walk to the Metro for a ride downtown, and Orion and the nearby stars were high overhead.  I enjoy seeing them this time of year.  I could make out the fuzzy glow of the Pleiades, and look forward to a clear, dark night when I can see them clearly.

Inhale, Exhale

Yesterday, a student stayed after class to ask me a question.  This was Renee's second class with me, and she had told me she was new to yoga.

Her question was: "When you say 'inhale, and then exhale,' am I supposed to hold my breath until you say 'exhale'?" Then she added "I need to work on this breathing thing."

I thought, "Wow."  Having been a musician all my life, being connected to my breathing was second nature long before I started practicing yoga.  To find someone, roughly my age, who didn't have a conscious connection with her breath was a bit of a shock.

I explained the idea of matching the breath to the movement, and could see from the look on her face that this was a new idea to her and she didn't quite know what to make of it.  I said "Don't worry, we'll work on that.  If you need to breathe at a different pace than I'm instructing, just do it."

I'm looking forward to working with her to see how she adapts, now that the idea is in her head.