Start Where You Are: More Adventures in Meditation

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Since beginning the teacher training program at Avalon Yoga Studio in Palo Alto last September I’ve heard this phrase repeated again and again:  start where you are.

Start where you are is simple level-headed advice that we should remember when we’re beginning anything new, whether it’s the yoga we’ve always wanted to try, the novel we’ve wanted to write or the song we’ve wanted to learn on our guitar.

Don’t argue, don’t procrastinate and don’t wait for conditions to be perfect.  Start where you are.

The advice is particularly useful when contemplating a meditation practice.  Do you want to meditate?  Start where you are.

Read this blog back far enough and you’ll find a post about my two weeks of Yin Training in the Santa Cruz Mountains with Paul and Suzee Grilley the summer of 2009.  We began each morning with thirty minutes of meditation.  I was determined to continue the practice once I returned home.

It didn’t happen.

I used every excuse imaginable from being too tired to crawl out of bed to convincing myself I’d practice later in the day but of course I never did.

Why?  Because I felt fraudulent.  No one gave me a list of instructions (and we know how I like my lists).  I didn’t understand the steps. I couldn’t possibly be meditating correctly. And so I didn’t meditate at all.

The truth is, there are no list of instructions, no easy steps.  And there’s very little you can do short of strapping on headphones and cranking Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit to eleven that would ruin the experience.

Because we start where we are.  We find five minutes and we sit still.  And then we find ten minutes to sit still and to listen to the breath.  Soon we’re sitting for twenty minutes and the breath may become a mantra.  Or not.

There are plenty of books that offer techniques.  I’m reading one now, Eknath Easwaran’s Passage Meditation. The book is a basic primer the offers suggestions and teaches the reader why meditation is life enhancing.

And there are groups you can join.  A friend of mine and I recently dropped in on a local Daoist Meditation Group.  And you know what?  The Daoist technique was deeply different to my personal practice.  Does that mean I’m wrong?  Of course not.  And neither are they.

We start where we are.  We find our way.  We choose our path. And there is no wrong.  We start where we are.

Cleaning, Chaos and Attachment: Adventures in Meditation

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When life seems out of control I do the only reasonable thing.  I clean and organize my apartment. And when I say clean and organize, I mean it. Knick-knacks and clothes are bagged for donation to Goodwill.  Books are boxed for re-sale at Book Buyers in Mountain View.  Every surface is scrubbed and dusted and then furniture is moved in the hope of creating the perfect Feng Shui flow.  This last time I went so far as to cancel my cable and donate my television to charity.  It seems the only way I can reclaim control is to pare down my life to little more than the bare necessities.

When there’s nothing left to clean and if I remain desperate for more control, I update my calendars. I have three calendars – the calendar on my laptop, the hardcopy I keep in the event of a computer meltdown and the calendar on my iPhone (which of course is supposed to sync with my laptop but I haven’t sorted that out yet). I’m embarrassed to admit that all three calendars are color-coded.

If I continue to feel unsettled I start with the lists.  I write shopping lists, goals for the immediate and the far away future and a list of day-to-day chores.

I keep at it until I’ve lulled myself into believing that I’ve created order from chaos.  Of course, instead of feeding my compulsive nature by focusing all my energies on the external environment I could be creating the control and calm I crave by – wait for it (smacks palm of hand on forehead) – meditating.

And while I’m preparing for meditation by hanging out in Adho Mukha Savasana I could ask myself the right question – what is the turmoil I’m experiencing within all about?

The sense of impending calamity I feel from time to time boils down to my talent for creating unreasonable attachments to events out of my control.  The more I sense the loss of control, the more I attempt to cling to the story I have in my mind of how my life should be. But clinging to a story is like trying to grab vapor.  You can’t, can you?

The truth is, I can clean and clean until my knuckles are raw but that will bring me no closer to the control I crave.  If I truly want control, then I have to relinquish my desire for it and instead embrace the gift of clarity that a growing meditation practice offers.  I need to understand that we can only control our response to the events around us – not the events themselves.

A Tale of Two Families…and Me

Tom and Thea, 2009

In the autumn of 1939 there was a heat wave in Northern California.  By September temperatures approached one hundred degrees. As the Bay Area sweltered, Hitler invaded Poland, New York prepared to play Cincinnati in the World Series and the minimum wage rose to thirty cents per hour.

Bill and Tom, beginning their freshman year at UC Berkeley, met for the first time that autumn on board a train traveling across the San Francisco – Oakland Bay Bridge.  Trains did that in 1939.

Seventy-three years later and the boys in that train car are now old men. Bill is tall and shockingly handsome for a man of ninety. Tom walks slowly, but his Irish/Italian eyes still sparkle.  Especially when the stock market is bullish.   He’ll be ninety-one this next May.

Tom and Bill teased one another, as young men will, when each fell in love.  While Tom wooed a beautiful girl on a picnic in the Berkeley hills Bill found love in San Francisco when he met a feisty blond.  The sweethearts married, and Tom’s brunette bride Isabel became best friends with Bill’s gorgeous Bobbie.

Both men served during World War II. Tom was an officer on a Navy tanker in the Pacific.  Bill was an infantryman in Europe who landed in Normandy not long after D-Day and entered Dachau two weeks after it was liberated.

After the war, their homes, one a shiny Eichler the other a rambling Craftsman and only a few miles apart, quickly filled with children. At last count there were eighteen grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

From time to time the families gather together for simple meals of crusty bread, Bobbie’s cherished homemade soup and bottles of Yellow Tail wine.  They gather to celebrate.  But when Bobbie and Bill lost their eldest and Tom lost his beloved Isabel, they gathered to mourn.

All from a friendship that began when two boys headed to Berkeley on the same train in 1939.

I met the couples and their children four years ago, before Isabel passed.  I was astounded their friendship could be measured in decades as my close friendships are only measured in years.  In fact, I don’t know that there will ever be another time when friendships begun by happenstance will endure seven decades of war, love, marriages, births, and deaths.

Of course I’m grateful to be a few mouse clicks from friends I knew in high school.  But that was almost forty years ago.  What do we have in common except memories?

I look at the lives of these two couples and all the good people they’ve brought into the world and I’m nostalgic for a way of life I’ve never experienced.  Our lives move artificially fast and in the frenzied wake intimacy borne of a shared meal or a family gathering is lost. We flit around the world and we forget people.  We forget moments.  We forget.

So strong is my craving for connection and the setting down of roots that I almost lost a friendship this week.  For me, it would have been a horrible loss.  The lesson I’ve learned from the past few days is that clinging to your idea of something is like trying to hold on to smoke.  It’s impossible.  I will never have the life-long love of Bobbie and Bill, Tom and Isabel.  I won’t have children, or grandchildren.  But there’s no doubt I will have love, connection and intimacy.  It’s possible I already do, but I’m too attached to what I believe those words should mean that I haven’t noticed they’ve been re-defined for the twenty-first century.

The Hip Bone’s Connected to the…

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Anterior Hip Muscles

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Do yoga teachers need to study anatomy?

I recently heard a well-loved and respected teacher with decades of experience give this answer before a group of trainees: “in my opinion, no.”  He believes we learn everything we need to know about the body through a strong asana practice.

Is he right?  Maybe.

A finely tuned practice, after all, strengthens our understanding of how we move, how we function, our strengths and restrictions.  Why do we need to know the muscles used for breathing?  Why do we need to know how the bones join together at the knee?

Because when a new student enters our studio and tells us they’re a few months past a lumbar laminectomy, or that last year they had meniscus surgery, or they’ve recently been diagnosed with osteoporosis – we should know what that means and what the implications are for their yoga practice.

And so, in my opinion:  yes, yoga teachers should study anatomy.

The teacher continued with his points:

“You don’t want to take up class time explaining the muscles…”

He’s right.  I don’t use class time for anatomy lessons.  But when a student asks why they feel Ustrasana (camel pose) near their hip crease I can move beyond “it’s because you’re tight there” and explain the hip flexors and their function.  I can explain how they become shortened and other ways to lengthen them.

And when a student’s knees are no closer to the ground in Baddha Konasana (seated cobbler’s pose) than they were when they began their practice five years earlier I can explain how each skeleton is different.  I can reassure her that it has little to do with flexibility and more to do with how the femur sits in the acetabulum. Knowing I can do this – knowing I can guide my student toward an improved understanding of their body – increases my confidence as an instructor.

Furthermore, when a student needs help modifying a pose or if they’re unable to assume “correct” alignment my understanding of anatomy informs the choices I make to help the student – whether it’s a different verbal cue, using a different prop for support or suggesting a different asana.

Do I know the name of every muscle and bone?  Of course not.  But by studying anatomy I’ve been given an amazing gift – a sort of “x-ray vision.”

Every body is unique. Knowledge of anatomy helps us see these differences. And since we can’t step into our students’ bodies to experience an asana as they do, having a good understanding of the body – knowing that the rectus femoris is a two joint muscle and might explain why the front of the hip hurts when the knee is drawn back in Natarajasana (dancer’s pose) – well, if I can’t experience what my student’s feel first hand, then knowledge of anatomy is the next best thing.

Coming Back to Stillness

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Skagit Bay mudflats; Larus sp.; Ika Island (Wa...

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It’s amazing what half a pint of crème de leche frozen yogurt, a five-episode marathon of Grey’s Anatomy via Hulu and eight hours of solid sleep wrapped in a warm duvet will do for a woman’s disposition.

It’s not everyone’s first choice cure for over-extension and except for the sustained sleep not particularly healthy – but when I need brain candy only the vast wasteland of computerized television viewing and a dairy-based fat and sugar delivery system will do.  I’m not proud.

Earlier the same day, however, I spent an hour sitting on a bench at Shoreline Park.  The sun was warm, the breeze cool, the tide out.  The mudflats were filled with aquatic birds (and one extremely noisy raven) feeding like gluttons on whatever was free for the picking.

I love watching birds in their natural habitat.  My favorites are the pelicans.  I saw a squadron of fourteen fall into formation and execute perfect three point landings.  They were white with black tipped wings and glowing orange-pouched bills.

My other favorites – the ones that can make me cry sometimes – are the little ones that fly in huge swarms and seem to shape shift in flight. I believe they’re sandpipers. The wings are dark and their underbellies white. As they race through the sky they seem to appear from nowhere and then vanish depending upon how the light has fallen on them.

That hour in the sun was food for my soul.  The hours spent eating frozen yogurt and watching the trials and tribulations on Grey’s?  Not so much.

A few years ago I believed wasting sixty minutes of my life bird watching on a sunny weekday afternoon was pure decadence.  Spending an evening watching television was “relaxation.”

But on Tuesday I embraced both experiences on a day that could have been better. Trust me – burning the candle at both ends really does bite you in the backside eventually.

What did I learn?

The obvious.  An hour outside – even during a workday – beats wrapping myself in a duvet, stuffing my face with ice cream and filling my spirit with the distraction of a bad soap opera. Hands down.

Why?

That little bench by the mudflats delivered stillness.   Connection.  It tempered the endless chatter in my mind.  The clarifying peace of that hour allowed me to feel my feelings without judgment.

The lesson?

I’m not ready to give up the occasional binge of ice cream, Hulu and duvet – but I know it won’t nourish me.

For real nourishment – the kind of soulful nourishment that lifts my spirit – I need the sun, the birds, and an hour on the water’s edge.

You Want Me to Breathe Into My WHAT???

Heart and lungs

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“Breathe into your back ribs.”

What?

“Breath into the space around your kidneys.”

Seriously?

“Breathe into your big toe.”

Ok.  Now you’re just trying to be funny.

How many times have you been instructed to take your breath someplace considered physiologically impossible?  Yoga teachers give this instruction all the time, but it sounds pretty dumb, doesn’t it?  Our breath moves into our lungs.  Period.

Right?

No one takes the instruction to breathe into the soles of the feet literally.

Do they?

Because, the thing is – I’m one of those yoga instructors.  I’m one of those instructors who will ask you to breathe into places where the breath doesn’t travel.  But I’ve got my reasons.

When I provide the verbal cue to breathe into the back of the ribs I’m instructing my students to bring their awareness to a specific part of the body in a more efficient way than the cue “relax.”

Furthermore, by breathing into the back during a pose like Balasana (child’s pose), the student becomes attuned to the physiology of breathing.  They gain an awareness of the muscles involved.  The lungs may be the workhorse of breath, and the diaphragm our ‘third lung’, but there’s a whole lot more to consider.  Our intercostal muscles, for instance, extend and contract with each breath to move the ribcage.  Our internal obliques work in opposition to the contracting diaphragm.  The gift of breath – the art of breathing – is more than filling the lungs like a balloon.  It is a complex event with an interrelated team of muscles, organs and bones.

So if my verbal cue “breathe into your spine” sounds weird and maybe a bit ‘airy fairy’ – don’t laugh.  Go with it.  Like I said, I have my reasons.

Yoga is More than Skin Deep

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When I began to practice yoga twenty-five years ago, the emphasis was on the physical.  In fact, it would be closer to the truth to say I wasn’t practicing yoga at all – I was practicing asana.  And while my early training included work on the philosophy and history of yoga, I listened about as carefully as I did during fifth-grade arithmetic (and my friends are all too aware that my ability to add and subtract leaves much to be desired). 

What was I afraid of?

I convinced myself that asana was enough.  But I was only swimming on the surface.  To me, deeper work meant something physical, nothing more than graduating from half to full lotus without damaging my fragile left knee. The thought of moving deeper spiritually was too uncomfortable.  My asana practice strengthened  but I failed to see beyond its gifts. Deeper examination meant diving into the unknown.  And I was uncertain of what I might find.

But twenty-five years after my first utthita trikonasana I now see awesome beauty in the unknown.  I’ve yet to reach center – do we ever?  But to paraphrase one of my teachers, I know that when I do find my center, freedom will be waiting for me.

Although I have no proof, I think it is reasonably safe to assume that most yoga practice in the West is asana-centric. There’s nothing wrong with that.  I mean, what’s not to love about asana practice? It brings us to a place where we feel balanced and alive.  It calms or energizes depending upon our needs and our sequencing.  And if we pay attention to the sensations we feel after our practice we’ll realize they are more than physical. More than skin deep.  Our asana practice influences our emotional state.  It influences how we perceive the world around us.

But this is just a tease.

When we broaden our yoga practice with elements of pranayama and  meditation we build a practice that is deeply integrated and holistic.  The physiological and spiritual sensations that asana practice hints at become intensified. We begin to dive beneath the surface.

The same teacher who taught me where to find freedom also offered a metaphor.  He suggested that our day-to-day lives, our random thoughts, our unconsidered reactions to the world around us are like the surface of the ocean: rough and unsettled with white caps and tides that rush in and just as quickly rush out.  But beneath the surface of the ocean there is calm.  If we can turn away from chaos and turn toward the calm found in a measured breath and silence then our spirits – and our asana practice – will be nourished.

Why I Love Teaching at California Yoga Center

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Over the weekend someone asked me the name of the studio where I teach.

“California Yoga Center,” I said with a smile.

“Huh,” he sniffed.  “I walk by there all the time and it’s always empty.”

I confess. Un-yogic thoughts overwhelmed me. I admit to being, from time to time, overly sensitive.  Perhaps even a bit defensive. But what I interpreted as a flippant dismissal stunned me and I missed my opportunity to reply with a witty retort as the conversation quickly moved on to other topics.

But his comment has buzzed around me like the nagging mosquito that finds your ear just after you crawl into bed.  And boy is it annoying.

I teach at California Yoga Center.  And I’m proud of the fact.  And here’s why:

  • California Yoga Center opened in 1980, making it not only the first yoga studio in Palo Alto but also one of the oldest studios in the Bay Area.  It now has two locations – the original studio at 541 Cowper Street in Palo Alto and the new studio in Mountain View at 1776 Miramonte Drive, in the Blossom Hill Shopping Center.
  • I attended my very first yoga class, with teacher Betsy McGuigan, at California Yoga Center in 1984.  When I returned to Palo Alto in 2005 after an eleven-year absence one of the first places I visited was the California Yoga Center.
  • We’re plain folk at CYC.  It’s about the yoga, pure and simple.  Plain wooden floors that have a distinctive squeak.  Plain and patched walls.  No giant Buddha or tented ceiling. No fancy retail area.  The most exciting indulgences are the dozen or so 8×10 framed black and white photographs of Mr. Iyengar hung above the mirrored wall at the Palo Alto studio.
  • While its focus remains on offering classes in the Iyengar tradition, CYC has mellowed somewhat over the years.  You’ll now find my Yin class on Monday evenings in Palo Alto.  Another instructor offers Anusara.  Plus, weekend workshops offered throughout the year at both locations help deepen your practice.
  • On top of that, CYC Mountain View is one of the few yoga studios on the Peninsula with a dedicated rope wall to offer support or facilitate stronger work.

Yes, I teach at California Yoga Center. My classes are filled with happy yoginis.  Of course, from time to time I teach at other local studios – Studio Rincon in Menlo Park comes to mind, as does the Page Mill YMCA – and while I embrace every opportunity to teach, CYC is my yoga home and I can’t imagine leaving.

So if my friend walked by CYC’s window and found the studio empty, he was walking by at the wrong time.

If you’re a teacher or a student at California Yoga Center, tell me, what makes it special for you?

Those Autumn Winds: Supporting Your Immune System

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My last cold had me flat on my back for three days, hacking for seven, and speechless with varying degrees of laryngitis for six.  Of course, my last cold was in December of 2009 – so I really shouldn’t complain.

I’m one of the lucky ones. I can go a good year or two before a cold virus will hit me with a wallop.  Most folks will muddle through a cold every three or four months (and if you don’t believe that I’m knocking real hard on some wood right now – guess again!).

Besides good luck and good genes, my good health boils down to my being vigilant.  Not hyper-vigilant, but reasonable.  Especially this time of year.  As the days grow shorter and the weather turns cool we’re apt to spend more time with others indoors. And as we all learned in school, the virus responsible for the common cold is spread through airborne respiratory droplets.  It can remain alive on hard surfaces like countertops and desks for hours.  In other words our comfortable, centrally heated homes are more like oversized Petri dishes.

Ok.  I’m exaggerating.  But only just.

But factor in environments outside of our control like schools, offices and shops it’s a wonder we’re not all walking contagion zones, all red-nosed and dripping.

So what keeps us healthy? Hazmat suits?  Nope. It’s our ever-faithful immune system.

We usually don’t think about our immune system until something goes wrong. But consider this:  We run for cardiovascular health, lift weights to support our skeletal system and eat right to keep things running smoothly in our gastrointestinal tract.  What do we do to support our immune system?

Show Your Immune System Some Love:

Times are tough.  We want to stay healthy without breaking the bank along the way. But how do I figure out what my immune system needs without spending too much money on herbs and supplements?

My approach is to keep things as simple as possible. There are plenty of reasons why the immune system becomes compromised.  My first job, therefore, before I load up on supplements and herbal remedies, is to determine if my lifestyle is putting my immunity in jeopardy. If I want my immune system to defend me against pathogens, then I have to defend my immune system.  To stay healthy I begin with the tried and true – the stuff we’re reminded of each year around this time:

  1. I remember to wash my hands.  Up to 80% of infectious diseases like colds and flu are transmitted by touch. Simple hand washing with warm, soapy water is enough to rid our skin of viruses and bacteria picked up from computer keyboards, the cell phone or doorknobs.  If soap and water are not available an alcohol-based hand sanitizer is effective provided it is at least 60% alcohol.
  2. I do my best to get a good night’s sleep.  Burning the candle at both ends has never worked for me.  My goal each night is seven hours of quality sleep.  To achieve that, I turn off the television, lower the lights, and trade the temptation of Facebook for a soothing story (from a real book with pages!).
  3. I try to reduce stress levels.  I know.  You don’t have to tell me:  easier said than done.  Our spirits cannot match the pace of the 21st century.  But increased stress reduces our body’s ability to produce white blood cells.  And white blood cells fight infection.  So close your eyes and take a few deep yogic breaths.
  4. I watch my diet.  I have a confession to make.  Until recently I didn’t cook.  Most of my meals came from the community refrigerator otherwise known as Whole Foods.  Even then, and more so now that I am meal planning, I read labels.  I look for foods low in sugar.  I purchase locally grown and organic food when possible. And I try to eat seasonally. As we move into autumn my diet is shifting from green salads to roasted root vegetables, soups and stews.  Oh, and I make a point of staying well hydrated by drinking plenty of fresh water and green tea.
  5. I accentuate the positive.  We all know there’s a mind/body connection.  While it’s not always possible to eliminate the negative, research has shown that our immune system functions much better when we are happy and optimistic.

Is That a Tickle I Feel or is That Virus Just Happy to See Me?

Just because I don’t catch too many colds doesn’t mean I’m not prone to the occasional sore throat. As a full-time teacher, I talk.  Incessantly. So when a virus settles on me, it settles in my throat. My throat is the gateway to any pathogen looking for a place to roost.  But the very moment I even suspect a tickle I pull out all the stops to knock that pesky bug flat before it has a chance to do the same to me.  This is what I do:

  1. Salt Water Gargle:  Yes, Virginia, it does work.  A 2005 study published in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine enlisted 400 healthy volunteers.  For two months a percentage of subjects gargled with salt water three times per day.  At the end of the study it was determined that those who gargled had a 40% decrease in upper respiratory tract infections.  Furthermore, if they did become ill the salt-water gargle appeared to reduce the intensity of symptoms.  So there.
  2. Echinacea and Zinc Lozenges: My favorite three-dollar roll of lozenges is my go-to product even if there’s a chance the tickle I feel is a figment of my imagination.  I think the jury on Echinacea will always be out – some of us swear by it, some of us swear at it. There is, however, a bit of backbone in the evidence reporting the efficacy of zinc.  Studies indicate that zinc may help reduce the duration and severity of a cold.  The key is to take the lozenges within twenty-four hours of the onset of symptoms.  Like I said at the start, vigilance is key.
  3. Neti Pot or Saline Nasal Irrigation:  Remember when you were little and got “a nose full” at the local pool?  That’s what using a neti pot feels like.  I find it useful at the first sign of a cold as well as toward the end, when my nasal passageway feels done in.  It’s an acquired practice, though. There are folks who swear by their “daily flush.”  I, however, limit its use. Is daily colonic irrigation a good idea?  Probably not.  I rest my case.

The Perfect Storm – When Optimistic Hand Washing isn’t Enough:

At some point, unfortunately, it’s bound to happen.  There’s a deadline at work and a virus making the rounds at your child’s pre-school.  The stress is overwhelming; you’re not paying attention.  You didn’t notice the tickle.  You missed your window of opportunity.  Too bad, because within a day or two it’s not a tickle, it’s a cold. And you’re flat on your back.  What do you do?  Let’s begin with what not to do:

  1. Don’t “push through it.”  It’s not fair to your co-workers and family and it’s not fair to you.  During my last cold I curled up on the couch for three days and watched “ER.” The Clooney years.
  2. Don’t ask for antibiotics unless a doctor diagnoses a bacterial infection.  Remember – a virus causes colds.  Not bacterial.  Why take antibiotics if they’re unnecessary?
  3. But don’t avoid the doctor because you think, “it’s just a cold”.  If your symptoms worsen, if there’s a fever, or even if you just don’t feel “right” – see your doctor.

And in the meantime take plenty of fluids and get plenty of rest.

The Bottom Line:

Everyone has their own solution for supporting the immune system and fighting colds.  To prove my point, I asked three people what they could not do without when struggling with low immunity and illness.

Patty, a nurse in Texas said, “2000 milligrams of Vitamin C in powder form. I also mix ¼ cup Apple Cider Vinegar with 8 ounces of grape juice and take that daily.”  She told me this routine clears sinuses and relieves head colds.  “I also take Vitamin C regularly as part of my routine.”

Sudeepto, a solar physicist in California told me,  “Rest, steam and hot tea with Tulsi, ginger, lime and honey.”  Tulsi – also known as Holy Basil but not to be confused with Thai Basil – is a medicinal herb used in Ayervedic medicine.

Finally David, a medical herbalist in County Donegal, Ireland shared this:  “My three herbs for a strong immune system are Reishi, ginseng and Echinacea. Along with its general ability to strengthen the immune system, Reishi relieves chronic sinusitis. I believe it helps prevent the common cold and flu. I choose Reishi when ginseng is contraindicated – for instance in people who are hypertensive or anxious. In general, however, ginseng is excellent in cases of fatigue and low immune systems. Finally, Echinacea stimulates immunity but does not build immunity.  It’s like the gas pedal on your car.  It only has an effect if there is gas in the engine.  But it’s terrific at stopping infections at their initial stages and good at clearing infections.”

The real bottom line?  There is no cure for the common cold.  It’s a virus that we can do our best to avoid or wait for it’s to run its course if it finds us.  There are, as we’ve seen, lifestyle choices and commercial products that will boost our immune system and alleviate symptoms.  It will take a little exploration, but I’m certain you will find the ones that work for you.

Want More Ideas? 

All three sites offer balanced information on health, wellness, nutrition and fitness.

A version of this blog post originally appeared in Yoga Living Magazine

Making Butter

I made butter yesterday. I think.  I poured heavy cream with a dash of salt into a cold mason jar, tightened the lid and shook it until the slosh of liquid thickened into the thwip of something that wasn’t quite Kerrygold but was far removed from Cool Whip.  I don’t know if it truly qualified as butter but on the first rainy evening of autumn my friend and I smeared it on fresh-baked rosemary bread and washed it down with homemade soup. It was delicious.

Yep.  Butter making.  Soup making. You might say I have too much time on my hands.  My toilet has never been so scrubbed, my hide-a-way bed so neatly hidden, my laundry so freshly washed and my dishes so deliberately stacked.

And I have to be honest.  I love it.

At first, when I lost my ability to fill the space between appointments, I wanted to believe I’d lost my drive.  I wanted to believe I’d become lazy. Isn’t laziness easily remedied?  You pull yourself together, up the caffeine and step on the gas.

But the only thing rushing through life has ever done for me is blur my vision.

So, for now, I’m going to let life slow down.  I’m going to take a more considered path.  And I’m going to make butter.