Does it make sense to you that when you keep bumping into something in your life, it is about you rather than just about what (or whom) you are bumping in to? That has been happening for me again. I enjoyed using a new poetry form to gain insight and freedom.
The form of poetry is called the American Cinquain.(See Cinquain.org)
Adelaide Crapsey (1878-1914) was an American poet best known for establishing the five-line form known as the cinquain.
She had a deep appreciation for metrics and was an admirer of Japanese tanka and haiku. Her cinquain was developed partly as an American analogue of these forms.
Her poetry was published posthumously in 1915 in a collection titled Verse.
She is considered one of the first Imagist poets.
The insight gained related to a struggle I had had at Holistic Alliance—wanting to please everyone, thereby sacrificing my own integrity and the integrity of the relationships with everyone else. I hope you will enjoy the poetry!
Regret
Unbidden, pervasive
Wrenching, gripping, haunting
Makes a poor bedtime partner
Remorse
Forgiveness
Sweet, welcome
Freeing, expanding, relieving
Opens one’s heart to new beginnings
Mercy
Ashes
Broken promises
Our dreams dashed
Can we ever recover
Willing
Humor
Brings healing
Makes us laugh
At or with others
Lightheartedly
Nature
Once feared
Then sadly forgotten
What will the future
Hold
The truth
My honesty
Why give anything else
When all is given to the self
Live clean
In one form, your last line should be a synonym of your first line. It should mean exactly the same or nearly the same of that first word.
Friends
Such treasures
Some for life
Some for a time
Beloveds
Passion
Wild, hot
Wickedly, wantonly, willingly
Giving over to my heart’s desire
Devotion
Great stuff can come from inner struggle just like pearls from clams…
Here are more related websites about the form, thanks to Gail, president of Pine Island Writers!
Do you remember wanting to be old enough for kindergarten? Old enough to stay home alone? Old enough to babysit? Old enough to drive a car? Old enough to vote or drink?
Remember when you thought forty was old?
One of the best things about age is its relativity. I was mother to a 3-year old. My nephew was riding in the car with me. “Aunt Deb, you could pass.”
Looking around, I saw no other vehicles, “I could pass what?” I asked.
Motioning to my hands on the steering wheel, he said, “You could pass for a teenager.”
I was 19!
Do you remember the Ivory liquid commercial with the teenager and her middle-aged mom comparing hands? In that commercial, the mom’s hands could pass for those of a teenager because she used the correct dishwashing soap!
I am now old enough to know my hands could not pass for those of a teenager.
I’m glad.
I sometimes miss seeing my younger self in the mirror. I am surprised by the crepey skin.
I’m glad I’m old enough for more important things.
I’m old enough to choose comfortable shoes.
Remember the pointed-toe spiked-heels?
I am old enough to value women friends.
Gone are the days of blowing off our girlfriends because we got asked out by a boy.
Old enough to be honest about what we want. That was quite an adjustment.
“No, I’m really not comfortable with thus and so; given the choice this is what I’d do or where I’d go.”
I remember the summer morning in 1995: robins singing, sun streaming through the window. I sat on the sofa and I knew—with every fiber of my being—I was going to spend the winter in Tennessee bonding with our new grandchild who was due in October. “I am going to go to Tennessee for the winter,” I later told my husband, “I hope you can get your ducks in a row so you are able to go with me.”
Gloria is in her 90’s. Buried her son when he was in his 50s. She says about that, “By far the hardest thing I’ve done.”
Nancy’s in her 80s. She takes her therapy dog to hospitals and schools three days a week and still maintains her house and garden.
I’m not yet 70, but I’m old enough. Caroline Myss writes, “But now I feel that I have reached that age where I can speak more openly about the hidden realm, mysticism, and the wonders of all things holy and Sacred.”
I am old enough to know I would rather be close than right. I would rather be honest than accepted.
I am old enough to know that just because not everyone one talks to dead people doesn’t mean I am crazy because I do. After all, I don’t just talk to them, they talk to me.
And I am old enough to know we don’t have to agree to agree to be kind and compassionate.
Twenty-seven years ago today, I became a grandma. Grandparenting has been and is one of the most glorious roles of my life, but I often say I went kicking and screaming into it. I was only thirty-nine when our daughter, Stacey, told us she was expecting. I was working full time. I did volunteer work. I traveled. I felt like I was not only too young to be a grandma, but also too busy.
Our family has been laughing about all of the quirky names people come up with for grandmothers. Me Me, Nana, Memaw, Gigi, Yaya, Mawmaw—to name a few. My grandchildren (and countless others) call me Gammie. I wonder if I am not alone in sometimes resisting the wonderful but new.
What I know is that I did not think about that name. It is something that slipped out of my lips like the oohs and aahs at the Fourth of July fireworks.
Early Monday morning on January 8, 1990, that is how I introduced myself to my first grand, Bradley Joseph Zelenak. “I’m your Gammie.”
Last year I wrote a grandmothers memory book for him for Christmas.
Brad has the only copy for now but I may publish a slightly different version because the pages are sprinkled with wisdom he came to share.
It is truly amazing how your sweet heart and beautiful mind processes life. The day we carved your first pumpkin it was getting late and your mom wanted you to get into the bath, but you were still having fun with your jack-o-lantern. Your grandpa had the idea to bring your pumpkin into the bathroom.
While you can’t always have a bath by jack-o-lantern light, you can almost always enjoy a soaking bath by candlelight. In the summer of 1997, you were in the tub. You had your entire body submerged, with just your face sticking up out of the water. Because your ears were covered, you were bellowing out very loudly.
“GAMMIE, I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY PEOPLE ARE SO UPSET PRINCESS DIANA DIED. DON’T THEY KNOW SHE IS IN HEAVEN WITH GOD?”
Knowing you were attending a church in the Bible Belt, I wondered what you thought about where heaven was, so I tapped you on the shoulder and motioned for you to sit up so you could hear me. “Buddy. Where do you think heaven is?” I asked.
Submerging yourself again, you answered the question. “WELL, GAMMIE, IT IS RIGHT HERE; IT IS IN OUR HEARTS.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that your precious view of life had not been washed away by dogma.
Over the years, we shared many conversations about the meaning of life. The depth of your thinking has been consistently remarkable at every age.
I recall our being in the car one day. You may have been about four. You said you wished you had a great big house. I asked why you wanted that. You began to list off everyone in your life. You wanted us to all live together. It made me feel sad to know you were always without someone you loved.
Another time, your grandpa and I took you fishing out at Pitcher Lake. When your grandpa caught a fish, you said to him, “I wish I was you.” Isn’t it remarkable that you did not say you wished you had caught the fish instead of your grandpa? Your disposition was so filled with empathy. You knew you would have liked to have the experience of catching a fish, but you would not have that at someone else’s loss.
I know your life is still just unfolding, but I can see you as an important being in the world. Every stage of your life you are more aware than most. You are loving, and kind, and generous, and thoughtful, and you have a way of seeing the world that is broader than most.
And here you are, turning twenty-seven. You recently turned down a big promotion that would have required a move because you were not willing to do for money something your heart was not in. I am still learning lessons from you.
Perhaps you remember having heard the name Dr. Saul Shaye. If not, I certainly hope this post gets your attention.
I had swollen feet after the drive home from Tennessee for our Thanksgiving visit. I chalked that up to having eaten way too much junk.
On Sunday (Christmas Day) I had edema. On Friday evening, we had had friends in for bunko and heavy hors d’oeuvers. I indulged in salami wraps and cocktail franks and sausage balls. Christmas Eve we did fondue with the kids. Again, these foods were much more sodium-laden than is normal for me.
The swelling did not go down overnight, and it increased some as I was on my feet during the day so I still had some puffiness Monday. Tuesday I spent about 12 hours in the car.
I confess to having a bit more angst about health stuff since my blood pressure crisis this past May. I had another spike in my readings (thankfully not as high as in May) the week after Thanksgiving when I was at the foot doctor for a recheck.
This is what my feet looked like on Tuesday evening when we stopped for the night:
That is when Dr. Saul Shaye popped into my mind. I sent him an email message, with the photo of my feet and told him, “I would appreciate a distant healing session at your earliest convenience.”
My phone rang.
I have previously written about having been a demonstration subject for Dr. Shaye. (See Spiritual Healing.)
The following day, we did more driving, and then I was on my feet for hours and hours unpacking. It was a very long day and I was exhausted when I crawled into bed, but the edema was gone!
If my relief of symptoms was all of the story, it would be amazing, but as I was busy unpacking I received a frantic text message from a friend. Her adult son, living out-of-state, has struggled with alcohol addiction. Earlier this fall he had a severe incident, and although he had said he would come home for Christmas, he did not show up.
She made some calls and discovered her son had not shown up to work. Because of the earlier incident, the police were dispatched to his apartment. The police confirmed that he was drinking again, but since he said he was not feeling suicidal they could do nothing.
Her son was not answering his phone. Her husband was driving there, terrified of what he might find when he arrived mid afternoon the following day.
I suggested she have Dr. Shaye do a surrogate healing for her son. It would help her, and it could not hurt her son. She made contact and received the healing. She wrote, “Dr. Shaye went through me to my son, but I felt a huge shift and then a touch on my sternum.”
This text message came from her earlier today:
I just got a voicemail from my son saying he was in the same medical unit he was in earlier this year. He gave me the code so his dad could get in. I also got a call from the Human Resources department where my son works. They sent him leave papers, which means he could still have his job! I now have the number of the friend who took him to the hospital.
Fortunately we never have to know how things might have played out for my friend’s son without the spiritual healing session with Dr. Shaye, but even the most skeptical personalities can not miss the significance of the timing of his distant healing. And we may never know what caused the edema in my feet to dissipate.
But don’t just take our word for it. Check out Dr. Shaye’s free ebook,Bigger Little Book of Miracles. Who might need you to have a healing experience yourself and then share it with them? I certainly appreciated having just had that experience when my friend reached out in desperation. And I have great appreciation to Dr. Shaye’s willingness to be such a clear channel.
I applied for the position of an “Opinion Columnist” in our local newspaper. A good friend/writer colleague had suggested I apply.
It might seem odd to those who might think a committed spiritual person may not have a lot of interest in the things of the world, but that is untrue. We care deeply about all of life, and we recognize our life in this world as the richest venue for development of consciousness.
Admittedly, spiritual practices are not the most commonly recognized ways of making a positive contribution.
For example, this quotation by Lewis Thomas that was the WORD FOR THE DAY from Gratefulness.org today: Society evolves not by shouting each other down, but by the unique capacity of unique, individual human beings to comprehend each other. An entire program of Nonviolent Communication has been developed by Marshall Rosenberg.
When I opened the Thought for Today from Deep Spring Center, Aaron’s words fit beautifully:
When groups get together to make a statement such as about the war, it’s easy for the fear elements of the group to become the most loudly heard. Thus in your present world it is all the more important that those of you who have some clarity and know how to be present with your fear with spaciousness, step forth and become an active voice for a force of change, a true expression of soul force, or satyagraha. You must be willing to actively involve yourself with the world rather than withdrawing from the world, for it is only by the modeling of you who are more clearly that others can learn such clarity.
Satyagraha is the idea of nonviolent resistance (fighting with peace) started by Mahatma Gandhi. Gandhi used satyagraha in the Indian independence movement and also during his earlier struggle in South Africa.
The best way to understand this idea is to be honest about what I am feeling. If I am feeling angry, I am adding anger to the pot. Fortunately, it is possible to desire change, to speak up against things like cruelty or injustice, and to do so with a heart of genuine love. I can even feel compassion for those I am calling forth a different behavior from.
The Kusala Sutta from the Buddha speaks clearly to this idea:
Abandon what is unskillful . . . One can abandon the unskillful. If it were not possible, I would not ask you to do so. If this abandoning of the unskillful would bring harm and suffering, I would not ask you to abandon it. But as the abandoning of the unskillful brings benefit and happiness, Therefore, I say, ‘Abandon what is unskillful!’
Cultivate that which is skillful. One can cultivate the skillful. If it were not possible, I would not ask you to do it. If this cultivation of the skillful would bring harm and suffering, I would not ask you to do it.
I will let you know if I get the columnist position. It is a nonpaid job, but my opinion might just be very valuable.
heartbreak (noun): the vast pain that we suffer in response to our expectations
not being met in some way.
A facet of reality as a human being.
So if you’re experiencing heartbreak,
be it romantic, in your work life,
or if you feel let down by society overall,
I’m here for you.
Love Hurts:
Buddhist Advice for the Heartbroken
by Lodro Rinzler
I did not expect to be writing about heartbreak ten days before Christmas, but these words from Shambhala Publications seem so relevant.
Yesterday was the birthday of my dear friend, Claudia. Today, Claudia’s beloved husband, Wayne, was settled into the memory care unit of a facility about ten minutes from their home. Expectations not being met in some way? You bet.
One year ago, another friend, Erin, gave birth to twins knowing her daughter, Ella, had anencephaly. Ella packed a lifetime of memories into her short three-and-one-half-days. Heartbroken? Understandably so. (See About Our Ella.)
A family member is waiting for biopsy results, having received a diagnosis of cancer last week. A facet of reality as a human being.
I cannot address in one blog post all of the people I know who are heartbroken about life, and those feeling let down by society overall.
Last evening, Claudia and her adult daughter, Carmen, and I sat on my living room sofa wrapped in warm blankets. Zoom transported us into a spiritual group meeting being held a few hours away where we met with friends in Texas and Michigan and Canada. The message was one of love. Not just that you are loved, but that you ARE love.
While at retreat in October I wrote in my journal, “I want to celebrate Christmas.” (See Jesus Loves Me.)
Celebrating Christmas is not about buying presents, but it is about gifts. It was a gift to make a birthday dinner for Claudia, and a gift to be with our spiritual friends via technology. It will be a gift to spend time with Erin tomorrow, honoring Ella’s powerful life.
Although it is early, I am making my New Years resolution: Live what Wayne said the last morning he woke up in their home, “What I know to be true is love is all that’s real.”
When we were kids, we dealt with difficult situations.
Sometimes we were bullied.
Sometimes we didn’t get a new toy.
Sometimes we were yelled at.
We then developed defenses based on these events.
The problem is that a lot of the times we don’t grow up
and move on past these defenses or events.
They stay repressed and lodged within our brains,
and come out if we feel something similar to the past occurring.
As the saying goes: “You don’t fear the future, you fear the past recurring.”
The early morning events of December 8, 2016, were so unpredictable they beg being honored as the movement of the divine.
I had done a lunch & learn for a delightful group at the Kalamazoo County Justice Complex on Wednesday, and I had stayed over in Parkview Hills. About 7:00 am, Joel and I went out into his garage to leave for Full City Café to meet our breakfast book club group.
Joel pushed his garage door opener. The motor started and the door came up about six or eight inches and stopped as the motor kept turning. He repeated the process a couple more times with the same results.
“I can drive,” I offered. (He has two garage doors so each is on a separate opener. The door opener to the side of his garage that my van was parked in worked fine.)
We transferred all of our stuff into my van. I slid in behind the wheel. Joel got into the passenger seat.
“Let me see if I can open it manually,” Joel said as I backed out of the garage. I stopped.
Everything in me felt I should drive. I said nothing. Joel tried unsuccessfully to trip the release and open the door manually.
While we were at breakfast, it began to snow. It was coming down pretty hard, and we had to clean my van off when we left the restaurant. We had run some errands the evening before, and we agreed it was a good thing we had done that given the weather.
Traffic was backed up on Oakland as we headed back toward Joel’s. It was hard to see what was holding things up, but as we got a bit closer it was obvious cars were having difficulty getting up the hill after stopping at the light at Kilgore. Each time the light turned green, one or two cars managed to slip-slide up the hill before the light was red again.
When it was my turn my wheels just keep spinning. Any attempt to give it more gas only caused my van to slide sideways. It is a new vehicle and I don’t yet feel like I have a familiar sense of how it handles.
My nerves snapped. My breathing was spasmodic, and I could hear myself sighing. My heart was racing and I was gripping the wheel as though this was a life-or-death situation.
Joel sat calmly (if not patiently) in the passenger seat.
I swear my legs were jumping almost out of the sockets. I was so close to bursting into tears it is not even funny. Fortunately, after a couple more lights, I got enough traction to make it up the hill. We stopped at the health food store, and got back to Joel’s house without additional incident.
A bit later, as I left Joel’s house and headed back to St. Joseph, I had a powerful flashback.
I was five years old. My family had gone to Arkansas because I father’s father was gravely ill and not expected to live. On our way back to Michigan, we got caught in an ice storm in Cairo, Illinois. The hill was steep. Cars were sliding off into the ditches, some were bumping into each other. I remember seeing police flashers.
I think my dad must have been drinking. When my dad got out of the car to see if something could be done, he fell down. My mom was hysterical. I could feel my little body trembling.
Suddenly, my emotions behind the wheel a bit earlier made sense. My inner child was reliving that frightening event… My heart was overwhelmed with compassion.
As I was driving west, the eastbound vehicles on the overpass were having the same challenge we had been having on Oakland. I saw them in my rear view mirror.
In the sixteen years I have gone to breakfast book club with Joel I think that is only the second time I have driven. The other time was after his hernia surgery.
One of the other women in the book club (Deb) had just had their garage door opener not work; they could not open the door manually. Deb had the name and number of a repair company. Joel made the call and the door was repaired right after lunch.
What are the odds?
While it did not feel like gift at the time, I appreciate being aware and able to release those old fears by bringing love to myself for all time and on all levels.
My precious friend, Erin Hamilton, is one of the most courageous women I know, and I know a lot of really courageous women!
Erin opened her December blog post this week with the words, “Here we are.” Erin is writing about the birth of her twins, Lennox and Ella. Lennox will be celebrating his one-year birthday on Friday, December 16. Ella will join our celebration for both of them in spirit. Ella’s spirit came through with a message a few days ago. She wanted her mom to know that just as Lennox has grown and changed and learned this past twelve months, she, too, has grown and changed and learned.
How did it get to be December 2? My previous post was on Saturday, November 19, 2016. Of course, we got to spend almost a week in Tennessee with our daughter (Stacey Dodge) and her family.
We all have our personal, “Here we are.”
Stacey and her husband, Doug, have just bought a sail boat. Miss Magic has been delivered to Tennessee where she will get a good face-lift in preparation for their three-month cruise next year. “Here we are.”
Grandson, Brad, and his new bride are anticipating a move to Charlotte, North Carolina, shortly after the first of the year. “Here we are.”
No one I know is on hold right now. We are moving forward, moving back, getting better or worse. There is pleasure and pain, loss and gain.
A line from Erin’s blog says it all, “One does not cancel the other out.”
Erin is speaking of the rich emotions that accompany our everyday lives. She writes, “I can’t believe we’ve survived a year. It’s so hard to explain holding such grief and loss for our Ella and such love and happiness for our Lennox all at once. One does not cancel the other out. I’ve had to learn to let them coexist. To love with all of these feelings- through them, in spite of them, because of them- has been such a journey already.”
I will close with a favorite concept from anthropologist Angeles Arrien, author of The Four-Fold Way: Walking the Paths of the Warrior, Teacher, Healer, and Visionary, where she links the four directions with sage advice for us all, where ever we are:
We begin in the North, “The Way of the Warrior,” the place of the Leader, where we SHOW UP and take a stand and choose to be present. We then move to the East, The Way of the Visionary, the place of the Seer, where we TELL THE TRUTH about what works and doesn’t work for us. Then, we move to the South, the Way of the Healer, the place of the Lover, and PAY ATTENTION to what has Heart and Meaning for us. And then we move to the West, The Way of the Teacher, the place of Wisdom, where we LET GO OF EXPECTATIONS, and yet are open to what we do receive.
Then we begin the cycle again, refining as we go. Each direction has an energy of its own, and if we leave any part out, the cycle falls apart.
(If it would bless you, visit EllasSoapBox.com and check out a soap with a mission.)
Health and fitness are just the side-benefits of Hatha Yoga.
Classical Hatha Yoga is a powerful system
to prepare the system for a “cosmic download”
and explore our full potential.
Recently I was smitten by the title of an article by Stephen Cope about yoga: Everything Is Already OK. When I was thirty something, I wore out my copy of Richard Hittleman’s 28 Day Progam. The daily practice sheets in the back of the book were tattered, yellowed, and just looking at them you could almost smell Nag Champa incense.
In some ways, my relationship with my body got off to a shaky start. Another way to say it is that my life has been about bringing together my body, mind, and spirit. (Listen to “Loved and Wanted.”)
When I was five, I was diagnosed with (and treated for) polio. Thirty-three years later I discovered I had instead one of several mimicking viruses that went unrecognized during the polio pandemic.
Roller skating backwards ushered in a fractured left wrist in fifth grade, then at age 12, a drunk driver misjudged a stop sign, resulting in our vehicle hitting her vehicle broadside at about 50 MPH. I was left with massive facial lacerations, a dislocated hip at the pelvis, and my first bona fide out-of-body experience.
Yoga just felt right. I loved the breath work, the stretching, the feeling of being present. How the best habit of my life slipped through my fingers, I am not sure, but I can say I am profoundly appreciating the benefits of being back in a committed yoga practice now that I am sixty something.
A few years ago, I went to one yoga class with John Orr at the June meditation retreat. While it was impossible to miss my lack of flexibility, being in just that one class sparked a yearning.
Last year, I started attending a yoga class at the Y taught by my good friend, Kathy Zerler. Hatha Yoga is also called Kripalu, Restorative, or Gentle Yoga. I attended faithfully every Tuesday all last summer, but I could feel my body asking for more.
In April of this year (2016) I made the commitment to attend class every Tuesday and Thursday. In June, Kathy also added a small every-other Saturday morning class at the 815 Main Street office.
I was aware I loved class. I would notice the days my pelvis was not able to let me put my legs flat on my mat at the beginning of class but how I could comfortably melt into the mat for Savasana. Also known as corpse pose, this is when you lie on your back and relax your body and mind, reaping the benefits of your practice.
I hear Kathy’s words from class in my head all the time now. Interspersed below are Kathy’s words in italics.
“Let every part of your body now melt into the mat. Just let it all go. The melting, the release, the relaxation in yoga is just as important as the tension and the movement, and the balance and the strength and endurance. It is the rest in a piece of music, the comma in a sentence, so that release is a skill that is integral to the process.”
I began to record Kathy’s audio instructions. I have dozens of voice memos. This is letting me practice on my own when traveling or if I have to miss a class. I intend to practice with those while I am in Florida. I feel a sort of bliss knowing I have those. I appreciate that you can do yoga where ever you are.
“The breath is the connection. Imagine that you can follow your breath into the body part that you are working and soon you will see that you can.”
This year, when I went to meditation retreat in October, the full benefits of my yoga practice revealed themselves so beautifully.
“You are invited, more than that, you are expected to take good care of yourself. Every move is from the inside out.”
A meditation retreat involves a lot of sitting, starting at 6:30 am, and going until after 9:00 pm, with breaks for meals, walking meditation, and brief instruction.
“You are strengthening your spine, but you are also learning to watch what you are doing. You are learning to lift yourself with the core muscles and that includes the big muscles in the legs. And these are important things that will carry you safely or safer throughout every day.”
As I slid onto my chair in the meditation hall that first day, I placed a pillow between the small of my back and the back of my chair.
“Proper posture is the single best thing that we can do for a healthy spine.”
I felt my spine lift gently. My core engaged. I witnessed my shoulders rolling back naturally, with that slight engaging of my shoulder blades. I was not just sitting, I was being present in my body!
“Remember you are encouraged to stop whenever you feel like you’ve had enough. There’s nothing in this class that is mandatory. There are no grades. There are no pop quizzes. This is your yoga, for you, right now, for this hour. And so honor how you are feeling right now, and do what’s right for you.”
That is what this practice is doing for me. The class at the Y is large (30 students), so I close my eyes as much as I can. In the same way that my meditation practice has moved off the cushion, my yoga practice is moving off the mat!
“Letting go… Treating yourself as gently as you would treat your best friend, or a kitten, or a baby. How gently would you treat those people? You deserve that same gentle treatment.”
In walking meditation, I can feel that same sense of my shoulder blades engaging. I feel my core engaged when I ride my bike. While there is no goal or effort to attain in meditation or yoga, as I watch my breath, I know my heart is opening! I am benefiting body, mind, and spirit.
“It is the breath than connects your mind to your body. In yoga, the breath is the spirit part, so we’re working all parts of you. This is your yoga, designed to work your mind, your body, and your own sweet spirit.”
My friend Ray, a Zen practitioner, tells me when you get the posture right, you have the practice. I did not really understand what that meant until now. I can feel it in my precious body, and I am deeply appreciative.
“Without your body, where would you live?”
I will close with these wonderful words about Hatha Yoga Benefits, the science of using the body to ‘hasten your evolutionary process.’
When you experience everything as oneness in your consciousness, then you are in yoga. To attain that unity within you, there are many ways. You work with the body, then you move to the breath, then to the mind, then to the inner self. Like this, many steps have been created, but they are only different facets of yoga. It is important that all of them are addressed in a very balanced way, all at once, as one single unit. There is really no division as such; yoga employs all aspects of who you are.
“You have it all. We have everything we need to take great care of ourselves.”
It feels amazing to be present to this holy relationship of my mind, body, and sweet spirit.
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