Yoga Workshop Time

I spent the last two weekends of April at yoga workshops. First, in Bedford, Nova Scotia, with Swati Chanchani from Yog-Ganga, an Iyengar centre located in the foothills of the lower Himalayas. A demanding three days with this vivacious, charming but strict lady; with much to absorb and process, to take into my own practice and share. 

The second workshop, in Hampton, New Brunswick, was with Doug Keller, from Virginia, U.S.A. A warm, generous man he gave us many insights into how we can use yoga as therapy for physical problems such as tight hamstrings and hips, lower back injuries, tense shoulders; all problems exacerbated by 21st century lifestyle. Doug’s generosity extended to sending all who attended a 91- page document containing most of his weekend comments, complete with fascinating anatomical drawings.

On Sunday, May 27 I was one of the presenters at ‘Healthy Self- Healthy Family’ a workshop for woman organised by Elaine Mandrona and JoAnn Thompson Franklin of Tidewater Physiotherapy Centre for Wellness in Lower Coverdale. Elaine also prepared a delicious lunch for everyone.

Knowing that yoga can be practiced literally anywhere I offered an introduction to Chair Yoga. Not just for people who are elderly or physically incapacitated, chair yoga can be practiced in the office, at home when you need a stretch or a twist without getting out your yoga mat, while travelling by car or ‘plane. I have done yoga on planes and in airports in Toronto, London, UK, Dubai, El Salvador.

It’s very important when 21^st century lifestyle is so static to be able to move your body, and breathe properly. You’ve probably heard the recent comment “Sitting can kill you.” You can see from these photos everyone had fun while doing good things for their bodies. That’s one of my principal beliefs in teaching – to laugh and enjoy while stretching, twisting, flowing and finding stillness.

Living, Living. Not Much Time for Anything Else.

I’ve been neglecting this diary for the past couple of months. But living took precedence over writing about it.

Not that writing was, as ever, far away.

During March and April I facilitated a writer’s group at the Senior’s Centre in Moncton. A diverse group of people drawn together by a desire to write.  Some were interested in writing family history, some poetry, others fiction, still others newspaper columns. We spent time discussing the ‘bones’ of good writing - grammar punctuation, spelling imagery, imagination. I gave them assignments, not always the most popular part of each week, but I believe good discipline and focus and an opportunity to have their writing read by others and get feedback.

Shortly before this project ended we began another session of Warrior Women; my yoga-inspired classes for women fighting and surviving breast cancer. I was honoured to receive a second grant from the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation.  Sharing space with my good friend Jim Grant of Pneuma Transpersonal Coaching, I promoted yoga at the Holistic Fair in Riveview.

During our winter yoga session the Progressive class included discussions on Indian Festivals, culture and customs and Hindu deities, some of whom are referenced in yoga postures.

It has become a tradition for the Progressive class and myself to share an Indian meal in the week’s break before the spring session begins.

A week ago  Julie and Monique (two of my Warrior Women) and I went to see ‘The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel’ and really enjoyed it. Some of Britain’s stellar actors, a gentle story without violence and the glorious colours, light and bustle of India. Some reviews I‘ve read make we wonder if the writer has actually seen the movie

Critics can comment on the story of the acting but if they haven’t been to India shouldn’t make comments about life in that country.

We are now in the fifth week of our spring session.  The Progressive class is studying Ayurveda and other classes continue to deepen their practice and enjoy being part of our sangha, or community.

Stripes Redux. Double the Fun

In January I mourned the disappearance of our ‘pet‘ chipmunk. The one who had lived in our garden and under the deck for many years.

 With a sad heart I had to believe it was time for him to leave.

But no. Imagine my joy when when one day last month I absently glanced out of the kitchen window, and there he was, as perky and bright-eyed as ever.

Now whether this is the same Stripes who had decided to hibernate – good idea – or a new-born we’re not sure. But as ever it is good to have a chipmunk back as part of nature’s outdoor bounty.

In fact we have seen three of them; chasing and racing round in circles. One evening last week I was bending down by the plants beneath the cherry tree and two of them almost ran over my toes.

Welcome back, all of you chipmunks. Now I must go and serve up more peanuts.

Earth Hour 2012

We really should do this more often I thought last night. Perhaps each equinox, perhaps every month.

Sitting on the floor in front of a semi-circle of candles was such a peaceful interlude in a hectic time. Not only an opportunity to honour the earth, but simply sit, silently. No heat turned on, no music.

For more than half an hour I sat in meditation. My Progressive students and I have been deepening our meditation practice with a Buddhist meditation known as Tonglen.

In this practice you send out happiness to others and take in any suffering that others feel. You take in with a sense of openness and compassion and you send out in the same spirit. It’s a method for connecting with suffering —ours and every being’s; a method for overcoming fear of suffering and for dissolving the tightness of our hearts. Primarily it is a method for awakening the compassion inherent in all of us.

Earlier in the day I’d dropped off a small donation at Harvest House, towards the Easter meal they prepare. Sitting outside in the weak sunshine were several of the men who turn to the organisation for help.

In my meditation I tried to focus on them, the needs, their aloneness, their hopes. It’s not always an easy meditation practice; it can be very intense and demanding. And very powerful.

 A little while after hearing 9 0’clock strike, I stretched my body in a couple of releasing Yin yoga postures then covered myself with a blanket for a short deep relaxation. Once up, switching on house lights, greeting the cats, I felt so light, empty in a very good way, as though I’d let go of a lot of heaviness. I read quietly for a while then slowly prepared for a shower and, so fortunately, a warm bed.

At least once a month I plan to commit myself to a peaceful hour of light and silence.

 

Moonstruck Musical Notes

Moon watching, weather watching. It was both a couple of weeks ago as we hoped a Saturday evening would be weather-friendly enough to allow us to drive to Sackville.

The Music Department at Mount Allison University was promising another musical treat – a one hundredth anniversary performance of Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire.  It was performed by soprano and faculty member Helen Pridmore and quintet of Maritime musicians, playing eight instrument, all known for their love of and expertise in contemporary music.

This concert work, set to poems by Albert Giraud, remains as intriguing, iconoclastic and unorthodox as it did in 1912. The vocal line is ‘Sprechstimme’ a technique somewhere between singing and speaking, often closer to speech. It was favoured by Expressionist performers, though used by earlier composers.

In the role of Pierrot Helen Pridmore’s resinous, compelling voice brought out fully the atmosphere created by Schoenberg. A blend of pathos, decadence, melodrama, echoes of basement night clubs, violence and twisted humour, all through the character of the sad, soulfully sensitive clown.

Musically the performance was excellent. I was however, distracted by the visuals; apparently added to “update’ the work. Quite unnecessary. This is absolute music that satisfies inherently, even if you do not know what the text means. The use of moving images – a car driving thorough a tunnel, then the drive in reverse, a Zeppelin in flames, a house in a field. Each of the three parts has a different mood; Pierrot muses on love, sex and religion in the first; the second is full of violence and nightmare. The final part is a subdued Peirrot going home. That the same images were used throughout did not reflect the individual focus of each. Particularly when I could think of so many possible moon-filled pictures.  Reflected in water, an urban moon, over fields, shining in a starry sky. Or simply performing on an unadorned stage. The intense music is enough.

Giving, Receiving and Thanking

In a season and time of gifting I wrap my presents in hope and thankfulness. Hope I can make a small difference, thanks I am so richly blessed. I remember I have so much and that so many have so little, or nothing at all; precious human and animal lives are in pain and danger.

My ‘unwrapped’ gifts for Christmas included clothing and classroom supplies, sent via World Vision; help to protect polar bears through the World Wildlife Fund; to the World Society for the Protection of Animals, to help many animals rescued from cruelty and cared for by that organisation and to the International Fund for Animal Welfare that fights for animals through rescue, providing habitats and though education.

My students joined in this belief, raising funds to donate within our community – to Harvest House and Ca-r-ma.

The best gift I received was another grant from the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation to offer more Warrior Women classes this spring and summer.

My husband and I bought each other the gift of music. A CD of Indian music I found at Ten Thousand Villages and two CDs of some of our favourite music – the string quartets by English composer Benjamin Britten.  Chamber music of all ages, but particularly from the classical era and the twentieth century, is my heart-felt joy.

A not-needed but beautiful gift from us to us was the Mud Cloth or Bogolan I also found at Ten Thousand Villages.  A traditional West African craft Bogolan involves hand weaving, dipping, dyeing and painting cotton strips that are sewn together. The deep rose-fuschia is an unusual colour in this craft and added to our festive table and the artisan in me is fully admiring.

Offering thanks first to my husband Gary, my best friend and supporter, for always being there for me.

To my cats for showing it is important to relax.

To my students for bringing joy to their yoga practice, and to me; for allowing me to take a week off during the session so Gary and I could have a long-awaited break together. To my Warrior Women who so generously shared with me some of the most difficult times in their lives. For their tears and their laughter.

Requiem for a Chipmunk. Too Quiet a Garden

Stripes disappeared about four weeks ago and our garden is so quiet and empty.

There have been chipmunks as part of our outdoor family ever since we moved here; probably they were already residents.

It may not have been the same chipmunk, but I like to think so. He dug up the tulip bulbs my husband tirelessly planted, ate peanuts voraciously, often running almost across our feet when we sat out in summer. He’d call to let others know when the cats took their walks around the garden – to him it was HIS garden.

At one time there were three of them chasing, racing, chirruping all over. Mostly there was only one.

He was never aggressive. I’d see him surrounded by mourning doves on the grass, chickadees safe in the blossom tree, a squirrel, perhaps a pheasant wandering around, all living peaceably together.

For several winters we admired his resilience in burrowing a tunnel about 20 feet long from his home under a shed to the shelf at the side door we kept filled with seeds and nuts. He was a survivor.

He was so quick too. Who or what could have caught or harmed him?  We’ve searched the garden, no sign of him.

I still expect to see him sitting by a planter, a nut held carefully in his front paws. Or to wait quietly as I come up the path, not wanting to disturb him as he eats.

To my sadness I cannot find any photo of him. What lives in my mind is his swift grace, his playfulness and the life he brought to our garden.