Food and Sustenance

I have wonderful Yoga students.  Really.  Wonderful.

And I feel guilty about my last post’s rant.  I stand behind what I wrote but I didn’t mean to be so heavy-handed.  Blame my pre-menopausal hormones.  Or John Friend.  In any case, I should have waited twenty-four hours before hitting ‘publish’.

To make up for it, I offer a great recipe for white gazpacho and a tip for saving the earth one fabric remnant at a time.

Our Monday class at Avenidas began its summer break today and we decided to celebrate with a little party.  Marty brought her famous white gazpacho, Jan brought homemade chocolate chip cookies, and Mariella brought jam filled sugar cookies.  Who says Yogis don’t know how to have fun?

When I arrived for class a few weeks ago raving about the white gazpacho I’d been served at a dinner party, Marty insisted on comparing recipes. The dish I enjoyed was based on breadcrumbs, grapes, almonds and stock.  It’s dairy free. Marty’s features buttermilk and yogurt.  Both soups are delicious. Marty’s is light and summery – absolutely beautiful. The cooling combination of yogurt, cucumber and grape hits the tongue first.  After a moment the strong bite of pepper lands on the back of the throat.  The flavors are married, believe it or not, by the quirky tang of fresh dill. Is your mouth watering yet?

The bad news is, I don’t have Marty’s recipe.  But no worries!  I have the original white gazpacho – the gazpacho that started it all, and I can vouch for its wonderfulness.  One small note:  instead of water, feel free to use vegetable broth for more depth of flavor.  Enjoy!

http://thepauperedchef.com/2010/05/discovering-white-gazpacho.html

Saving the World One Fabric Remnant at a Time:

Like I said, I have wonderful students.  One of them is JoDee Raimondo.  Last year she began a business that rescues fabric remnants destined for the landfill.

She  turns them into adorable bags like this one (be sure to check out the lining):

JoDee also makes little wristlets like this one:

What I like about them is their attention to detail, her choice of fabric combinations and the fact that they are one of a kind creations. JoDee accepts commissions.  She recently created a handbag for a woman.  JoDee incorporated the client’s late husband’s  favorite tie.  What a wonderful remembrance.  If you want to know more about JoDee and her designer purses, here’s the link:

http://sites.google.com/site/pursesbyjodee/

Finally, a little reminder for Avenidas students:

  • Registration for the Fall Quarter begins on Monday, August 16th.
  • Fall Classes begin on Monday, September 13th.
  • Beginning in September our sessions will run ten weeks instead of twelve.  We’ll keep the same schedule, with classes on Monday’s at 1:00, Tuesdays at 5:00 and Fridays at 10:30 or 11:45.  Click on ‘Classes’ for more details.

Fasten Your Seat Belt…

I want to say, before anything else, that maybe I’m wrong.  That perhaps my time in high school and again in college spent as a Bible-thumping, tongue-speaking Charismatic has made me a bit wary of preachers.  My mission as a Yoga teacher is to teach you what I know and what I’m learning.  My mission is to keep you safe and injury free as you grow in your Yoga practice.  My mission is to encourage you and my hope is that you discover that there is more to Yoga than the physical.  When we practice with peace, with non-violence towards our body, free of an agenda and expectations, a connection takes place between the body and the spirit. It’s not up to me to point it out to you.  You must find it.  Sometimes it takes no time at all – we feel the connection with our very first triangle.  But for many of us our fear of doing it ‘wrong’ holds us back.  There is no ‘wrong’.  There is tightness, joint restriction, agitation, fear…but there is no wrong.   Sometimes to grow, we need to step back, to take a lighter approach.  Sometimes to grow, we need to dig deeper.

Yoga is a blessing in my life. But its ever-increasing commercialization has, at times, made me feel insecure as a teacher and as a student. Can I still practice Yoga if I don’t have the right clothes?  The right mat?  Am I skinny enough?  Can I put my foot behind my heads?  Why, after twenty-five years of Yoga practice does Crow still elude me? Dare I confess that, on occasion, I’m a sucker for a crisp slice of bacon?

So – in the spirit of healthy skepticism, fasten your seat belt, we’re in for a bumpy rant.

I want to like John Friend and Anusara Yoga.  I really do.  I love the alignment-based technique, the sense of humor and joy.  The highlight of the 2008 San Francisco Yoga Journal Conference (besides discovering Three-Minute Eggs) was my Anusara session with Désirée Rumbaugh.

But then I read this quote from Friend’s interview in the September issue of Yoga Journal:  “When I was four years old, Kennedy got shot… I was sick.  My mother fed me whiskey and honey and put me in front of the TV.  So I was in an altered state of consciousness when my shows were preempted by the Dallas tragedy.  Watching the funeral caused me deep questioning about the meaning of life.  Why would we be created to have it all taken away?”

John Friend and I are the same age.  I asked questions that week, too.  Questions like, “Mommy, why are the boots in the saddle stuck in backwards?” I’m pretty certain I didn’t question my existence. Jack Ruby killed Lee Harvey Oswald on November 24th but, other than that, death had nothing to do with me. November 24th, 1963 was my 5th birthday.  I was afraid the celebrations might be cancelled.

Maybe as a child John Friend was calibrated to a higher universal frequency than me.  Maybe he tapped into something I didn’t notice because I was too busy thinking about my mom’s pineapple upside down cake and not stepping on the kitchen cockroaches that occasionally made daring daytime raids.

The truth is, as much as I want to believe, I’m very, very skeptical that John Friend questioned the meaning of life at age four.

But I like being a skeptic.  I think it’s healthy.  And, these days, there’s a place for skepticism in Yoga.

So I’m putting the Commercial Yoga World on notice.  Unless I see you walk on water I’m not going to follow you like a puppy.  But I’ll believe you’re a human, just like me, who has honed a skill through hard work and dedicated practice.  I’ll believe you have a gift for teaching.  But I won’t allow the masses to convince me you’re the Next Great Yogic Hope.

And please don’t put a copyright on poses that are thousands of years old.  Don’t try to convince me your sequencing belongs to you and you alone,  or that practicing the sequence in a super-heated room is healthy.  It might be, for you, but not for me.  I tried it.  I even enjoyed the spiritual benefit. And yet, each time I began a hot yoga practice the result, for me, was illness or injury.

So please, if hot yoga makes you feel jubilant  please don’t proselytize that your Yoga is the only way. I’m happy you found the Yoga that fits your body, mind and spirit.  Now pardon me while I go find mine.

If you are a human, just like me, don’t try to convince me that with your system I can become a Level I Yoga teacher in a weekend workshop.   It’s impossible.

And if I mention my Iyengar background to you, don’t smirk. Yes, it has happened. Don’t look at me as if I need de-programming.  My Iyengar background keeps my students safe.  Will you break a sweat in my class?  Perhaps during Surya Namaskar.  Maybe not.  Do we care?  Is Yoga a hard-core cardiovascular exercise?  On the other hand, will you learn how to modify each pose to suit where your body is that day?  Will you be in a quiet and safe environment?  Will you be mindful of the body and the breath?  Yes.

Finally, if you design, manufacture or sell Yoga equipment or clothing, I want you to know that I choose to no longer be manipulated by your advertising.  Tell me what your product is, how it works and why I might want to have it.  But be honest about it.  Don’t make me feel less of a Yogi because I haven’t purchased the latest mat, the trendy clothes, the coolest block.  Seriously.  Do you think Patanjali had a foam block?

Yoga in America is in a strange place.  It’s being diluted and pushed and pulled and turned into something I don’t believe it was ever meant to be. It’s becoming overpriced, over-marketed and elitist. The question new students usually ask, “Am I flexible enough to practice Yoga?” seems to be slowly changing to “Am I pretty enough/handsome enough/ sexy enough to practice Yoga?”  I hope I’m not the only one who finds that sad.

Can You Go Home Again?

When I began to consider self-care – what it meant and how I could care for myself more without caring for others less – I really believed it was just a matter of reduced screen time, more quiet time and a few walks around the block.  I believed it was that easy.

As it happens, self-care manifests differently depending on who you are and where you are in your life.  Sometimes we need to remind ourselves that we deserve to be cared for just as much as anyone else.  That’s a big one for me, believing I deserve it.  Believing I’m worthy of care.

Thomas Wolff wrote: “You can’t go back home to your family, back home to your childhood … back home to a young man’s dreams of glory and of fame … back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time — back home to the escapes of Time and Memory.”

And yet, if I want to connect the dots of my rambling life, if I want to heal and move forward, then I must take a huge step back and look at the past I abandoned so many years ago. I’ve booked my ticket, hotel and rental car and in September I’m going home for the first time in twenty-eight years.

This won’t be easy but I’m going to embrace every good, bad, ugly and thrilling moment.

Fortunately, before I go East I’m headed to the Land of Medicine Buddha on the Pacific coast in Soquel, California.  I’ll be attending Paul Grilley’s Yin Yoga Workshop.  Fourteen days of meditation, yoga, instruction and vegetarian food with no internet access.

I’ve wanted to attend Grilley’s teacher training since 2008 but each year I managed to talk myself out of it.  I’m glad that I’ve finally overcome (or at least set aside) the fear and insecurity I had about attending.

I suppose you’re wondering about the fear and insecurity. Let’s not go there.  I’ll just say my fears walk a fine line between the rational and irrational.

On a final, practical note:  if you attend my classes either at California Yoga Center in Palo Alto or at Avenidas, you can find details on who is subbing for me while I’m gone and important dates regarding the summer and fall quarters by clicking on the Classes page.

Self Care – Part II “And Then This Happened”

I’ve begun this post about fourteen times. When I was first inspired by a friend to remember ‘self care’ I assumed it would be easy – a little less computer time, a little more contemplation – how hard is that?

Well, it turns out ‘self care’ had a few surprises waiting for me.

It began innocently enough:  with a day spent on Facebook.  Don’t judge – just read.  Anyone with a FB account will, at some point, try to track down everyone they’ve ever known – ever.  That’s how I spent July 4th this year.

I spent my childhood in Pennsylvania and graduated from high school in 1976.  One quick FB search and I had found and ‘friended’ my best buddy from those years.  Betty* was one class ahead of me and when I was a senior in high school she went off to college.  I always remember wishing I was as cool and as smart and as funny as she was.  But like most high school best friends, we had grown apart by the time it was my turn to head to college.

Facebook, in its infinite (and sometimes scary) wisdom, allows you to see everyone else’s friends.  I looked through Betty’s list to see if there was anyone I knew.  Of course there was.

In high school,  Veronica* and I had one thing in common:  music.  We both played guitar and sang and were usually the “go to” girls for musical interludes at school assemblies.

(We need to pause here for a moment simply to remind ourselves that I knew these people thirty-five years ago. Thirty-five years ago. In Pennsylvania.  Betty is still on the East Coast, Veronica now lives in Europe and I am firmly ensconced on the West Coast.)

I ‘friend’ Veronica and take a look at her Facebook friends – again, just to see if there’s anyone I know.

There is.  And when I find her I catch my breath and feel the hair on the back of my neck rise.

Veronica is friends with Archie*.  Veronica, the funny, hyper, musical genius I knew three and a half decades ago is friends with the Archie I met in a yoga class in 2005.

And on July 4th,  2010 in Palo Alto, California I am sitting at Archie’s kitchen table with Jughead* the Labradoodle at my feet and looking at Archie’s photograph on my laptop in Veronica’s list of friends.

At that moment the world shrank to the size of a head of a pin.  Six degrees of separation narrowed to three. The two halves of my life collided in the most remarkable way and ‘self care’ took on a new and profound meaning.

*Clearly, I have changed the names of those involved.  Even the Labradoodle.  Then again, I changed my name twenty years ago, almost to the day.  But more on that later.

Self-Care

I have friends who are great at putting themselves first.  In a good way.  Some friends simply know when to say ‘no’.  Others have the means to make twice yearly trips to their favorite spa.  Still others begin their day with reflection and meditation – before turning on NPR, before checking the emails, before putting on the kettle.

I do not fall into any of those categories.  I’m terrible at saying ‘no’, my last massage was at least a year ago, and the first thing I do when the alarm sounds is open my MacBook to check for important emails that arrived in the night.

For shame.  And me being a yoga teacher and all that.  You’d think I’d know better.

The closest I come to self-care are visits to my acupuncturist Dea Burmeister.  But they only happen once every six weeks or so.

The last time I saw Dea, I was in her office not as a client, but as a practitioner.  She wanted some bodywork on her lunch break.  While we were preparing she mentioned that she’d gotten out of bed early that morning.  I asked why.

“If I don’t get up early enough to fit in my meditation and my walk, I’m no good to anyone else.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it.  Nurturing self-care isn’t just about making ourselves feel good.  It’s about helping us to love ourselves so that we may love others.  And apparently this self-care business isn’t something that just happens.  You actually have to work at it.

What is Self Care?

Self-care is taking time for us.  Taking time that’s different than ‘down time’ in front of the television or computer.  It’s offering ourselves time to reflect and to center.  Self-care gives us permission to return to our still point – permission to find balance in a chaotic life.

For Dea, self-care includes meditative walks in the morning.  But we all have our own way of giving ourselves the care we deserve.

I’ve had two blessing in the past ten days.  First I was asked to dog and cat sit for a family who receive one television channel.  One. And it’s a bad one.  So I’ve not seen Keith Olberman or Rachel Maddow (my favorite source for news) since last week.  There’s been no Jon Stewart to make me laugh in the face of tragedy. In fact, I’ve not seen any news at all.  I’ve caught the Yahoo! headlines, but that’s it.

Reducing the amount of time we spend absorbing bad news is good self-care.  It doesn’t lessen our awareness of what’s happening around us, but it breaks our addiction to it. I feel different without the constant bombardment of what is – lets admit it – bad news.  I haven’t been this ‘chilled out’ since ‘chill out’ was the cool thing to say.

The other blessing happened a week ago.  I was enjoying a margarita with friends in their garden.  The subject came around to music, and ten minutes later I was holding a sixty-year-old Martin guitar while the owner said to me, “Why don’t you borrow it?”

My parents had a country band when I was growing up.  I began on a baritone ukulele but eventually graduated to a 12-string Guild.  I sold my guitar five years ago, telling myself I had no time for music.

Silly me. It turns out, for me, nurturing my musical side is very good self-care.

What do you do for self-care?  Do you meditate?  Do you row a kayak?  Do you need a hot tub and a massage or will curling up in front of a fire with a good book bring the balance back?

My goal over the next few weeks is to make time for my self-care – to block out a few hours in my schedule each week.  It won’t be easy.  The most difficult challenge for me will be saying ‘no’.

I just have to remind myself, it’s one step at a time, but forward.