And Then I Jumped, Anyway

When I was a kid, my dad would take us hiking frequently. Northern California is fantastic for getting out in nature. We have miles and miles of trails, rivers, canyons, mountains, and lakes that are accessible throughout most of any given year. I remember exploring a lot of places.

In my head, this is the girl I've always been. Exploring outside, in the sun and the dirt, over rocks and under trees, and - hell yes - in the water. This is the girl whose heart pines for a Jeep. The girl who feels like she's part mountain goat and still hopes to go on a multi-day hiking/camping trip.

Somewhere along the line, we stopped hiking as frequently. Maybe life got in the way. Maybe I got too much up my own teenage ass about the way I should be and how much that didn't include being sweaty and dirty and sunburnt. While I've made some half assed attempts over the years to get back to this place, they've never really stuck.

No matter how much I enjoyed it.

Two rounds of Yoga Teacher Training later...

Last year, we hiked twice up to the same spot under Foresthill Bridge. We took different routes both times, one significantly easier than the other. But when you're (still) so far removed from your fitness and from that girl who was part mountain goat, even the "easier" route sucked. And allergies.

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See the red trail? That. We hiked that.

Oh my fuck, the allergies.

There we were, in this gorgeous place, out in the middle of everything I love, and I was miserable. Sure, part of it was because my allergies were making it hell, but part of it was because I was too up in my head with anxiety about the hike back and my allergies and a bunch of other stupid shit that, honestly, I should have let go of so I could actually be in the moment.

This year, again, we hiked twice.

The first time to that same spot under Foresthill Bridge. We took the "easier" route to get there, and then took the long way back out so we could tackle a big climb. While the climb was certainly not easy, it was much easier than the climb was last year, and I managed it with a lot less direct, physical assistance (although I am very grateful to my group, who hung out with me, encouraged me, and gave me a hand up when I needed one).

It was a really awesome day.

On the last day of class, we went on a completely different hike.

For those familiar with the area, we hiked Lake Clementine Trail.

Lake Clementine Trail has a long, slow incline with a well maintained trail and lots of shade. It's a beautiful trail and a pretty easy hike. You end up here:

Then you climb down a rocky bank to get out onto the rocks under the waterfall, where we sat in the sun and the mist, exploring, goofing off, taking pictures and having lunch.

I wasn't quite that daring, but I did end up barefoot and climbing all over rocks, taking photos, exploring, and hanging out. It was fun. More than just exploring the area, I was exploring what I was capable of. Reconnecting with my core and my confidence.

It was freeing.

After Clementine Falls, we hiked back down the trail and stopped about halfway down, at a "beach" that was mostly rocky outcroppings above the river.

Jumping into the river started almost immediately.

I hadn't planned to get wet (we were warned before that there would be an opportunity to get in the water). I didn't plan to jump into the river. I didn't want to. I was afraid to. I didn't trust my strength as a swimmer to get back to shore. I didn't trust my ability to climb up wet rocks to get back out.

I am terribly, irrationally afraid of falling.

I stood on that damn ledge for so long.

Other people jumped. I was cheered, encouraged, cajoled. I talked myself into it and out of it and back again. I thought about every video I'd ever seen where someone attempts to jump and falls badly. I thought about how far down I would go once I hit the water. I wondered if I would hit the rock ledge under the water.

I thought about all the things, all the fears, all the irrational bullshit.

And then I jumped, anyway.

You guys.

It took a really long time to fall.

I could hear everyone talking and cheering for a long time. And, yes. On the way down, I was wondering why I was still hearing words, why I could listen to entire sentences. Then I hit the water, slowing & finally stopping before swimming back up to the top. I made it back to the rocks and, with help, got back up out of the water.

It was really awesome.

It had come down to the understanding that the regret of not jumping would far outweigh the fear of the jump, and that it would last much, much longer.

This is the girl that I want to be.

Dirty, wet, and sunburnt. Over the rocks, under the trees, in the water. Part mountain goat.

But more than that...

I want to be the girl that jumped, anyway.

Rendered Speechless

I have so much to tell you that I don't even know where to start.

Wisdom

Mountain Posing

I wanted to tell you a story about this hike, about getting here and back and about how different it was this year than last year.

But I don't really have the time to tell that story right now. So I will just share how much sweeter it was to practice yoga and teaching on the side of a mountain this year, with allergies that are largely in control.

So much more awesome.

Crow Pose - Breaking the Seal

A few years back, SweetPea and I attempted to take the Monkeys to the California State Fair. It was a ridiculously hot August day. As we were cruising the parking lot, hoping for a decent space, SweetPea turned a corner and slid a tire into the corner of the liftgate of a bobtail van, slicing the tire open.

The driver of the van attempted to get Babe, our truck, up on a jack to change the tire for us. Three different types of jacks failed to get the tire off the ground. He even tried adding blocks to the jack to increase the lift height. It was like that tire commercial where the tires pull up chunks of concrete when the mechanic tries to lift the car. Our truck was notorious for tire problems and we always had to call a tow truck because that's what it took to get Babe off the ground enough to change the tire*.

Throughout my adventure in yoga, I have had several occasions where partner or acro yoga was practiced, usually with the purpose of lifting or de-weighting your partner. While I usually participate, I don't generally make much of an effort to allow myself to become airborne. In fact, my memories of most of these practices involve my desperately trying to just keep my feet on the floor. I'm sure a large part of it is just not wanting to subject my 242 pounds to another person, but the rest? I don't really know.

I have, however, noticed a consistent and determined need for my feet to be on the floor.

Well.

I guess I should say that I have noticed a need for my feet to be in contact with a surface, grounded in some way.

If you've ever seen me walk my feet up a wall while in downward facing dog, you'll understand why this surface doesn't need to be a floor.

This weekend, Francisco Morales-Bermudez of Synergy came out and, yes, we did some acro/partner/thai massage yoga & yoga assisting. I tried really hard to keep my feet on the floor, y'all. I participated in the thai massage based yoga assisting practice. I participated as a base and flew my practice partner.

I tried really hard.

Finally, with Francisco serving as a spotter, and in a pose where the person serving as base physically picks your feet up off the floor (did you see that one coming?), I was brought completely up off the ground.

I'm totally not here to tell you about how the experience was an epiphany, euphoric, amazing, because I'm not sure that I would frame it in any such way. But my feet came off the earth and I was safe and supported and it was a deeply new and unusual experience for me.

In a way, it changed the standard.

For most of my yoga practice, inversions** and arm balances have largely eluded me. There are practical reasons for some of these, attributable to the dimensions of my current physical shape***, that may or may not eventually be addressed through continued practice. While I have been able to get up into crow pose, it is usually for just that barest breath of stillness on the way back out of the pose.

Crow Pose

Even as I've gotten stronger, in general and in my yoga practice, crow pose has continued to elude me.

Well, shit, girl. Your feet have to leave the floor to be in Crow Pose.

Sunday afternoon, after my adventure leaving the floor that morning, our class participated in a fundraising event, Flow 4 a Cause. By the time we got there, I was physically exhausted. Between our practice that morning and our adventure the day before (which I'll tell you about tomorrow), I was so tired. My legs were toast. I didn't really think I had an actual yoga practice left in me.

During the flow of a practice that I did, indeed, still have in me, we came through to crow pose. Nice & easy, taking our time to play with it. I was actually taking a rest when the practice came to crow pose. Maybe because I'd dreamt about it the night before, maybe because I was feeling more confident about getting my feet off the floor, I stepped back up to play with it.

I've done this so many times that I can do it from memory.

Get my knees up up up onto the backs of my arms, hips high, core engaged, taking more and more weight onto my arms until I can release one foot from the ground.

This time, though, there was a steadiness at this point. My body felt solid in the pose, those last wiggly toes gripping more out of fear and habit than necessity, until they just let go.

And, no, it wasn't just that easy. It took a couple of tries before I could do it without wobbling promptly back out. Even then I wasn't there for more than a solid breath.

But I was there.

The seal was broken. My feet had floated free of the earth.

Suspended in space.

Just as safe as before.

*Only once was a jack ever successful, and this was managed by a dapper gentleman in designer jeans who showed up in a two seater Mercedes Benz. Really.

**By "inversions" I mean poses like head stand, shoulder stand... the ones where your feet leave the floor.

***Look, this isn't a crack about my size, and I'm not putting myself down. Some of the arm balances are beyond my reach right now because of the shape of my body. I'm ok with that. You should be, too.

PS: one of my biggest (irrational) fears is falling. Which I think totally explains most of this experience.

I Am I - Be the Universe

In the middle of my posts extoling the reasons that you should support my yoga teacher training, I posted a rant.

It wasn't long, it wasn't vulgar, it certainly wasn't my best rant.

But it was a rant.

That, my friends, opened my eyes to the biggest and best reason you should support my yoga teacher training.

I know that most of my normal blog readers would not describe themselves as yoga people. You may go to yoga, you may even enjoy it, but you don't really consider yourself a yogi. You probably don't wear lululemon or lucy and your mat is likely not a manduka. You probably don't understand why purveyors of yogi gear eschew capitol letters.

Actually, neither do I.

If you're like me, you are maybe perplexed by a typical yoga teacher's calm, loving, gushy-sweet demeanor. Intimidated by her soft spoken ways, lithe body, organic vegan juicing ways.

It can be hard to consider a guru so far from what you might consider acheivable for yourself.

And then there's me.

Y'all know me.

I drink. I cuss. I yell at other drivers for being fucking idiots. I'm too fat and too cheap to buy fancy yoga duds. I get in my big ass van and drive my dogs to Starbucks for coffee.

I'm not saying any of this is what you should aspire to be. It certainly isn't very becoming of a yoga instructor, especially not one that knows enough to know that yoga isn't just about the practice of movement. It is, in fact, a complete life style that touches on all of these things and builds normal, flawed humans into lovely and loving yoga instructors*.

But me?

I am, like you, a work in progress.

A perfect, complete, beautiful work in progress.

I teach in yoga clothes I bought on sale at Target.

I put songs in my playlists that shove right up against the bounds of propriety.

I may always say "fuck" under my breath when I forget where I was going while teaching a class.

I will laugh too loud.

I will hug too hard.

I will get mad if you drive too slow.

I will take you where you don't want to go solely because you will follow me there.

Someday, with work and with practice, I will be able to get you out of your head and into your body, heart, and soul, so that, together, we can strengthen and stretch and fill them with love.

To get there, I need the Universe.

I need you.

*You can read more about the Eight Limbs of Yoga here. If you've ever wodnered why yoga teachers are that way, this will probably shed some light for you.

Do You Need a Reason?

As my fundraiser is winding down, I've taken to plastering facebook & twitter with reasons you should support my yoga teacher training.

Including sales of scrubs and baubles, I'm about 30% of the way to my goal. Which is pretty cool, except the part that I'm still about 60% from where I need to be.

I'm reposting the reasons I have so far here, and will be following up with another post on the subject tomorrow. Eventually I should be able to shut up about this and move on to our regular shenanigans. Right now, though, I'm making one last push to get across the proverbial finish line.

Reason #183 why you should support my yoga teacher training: I put the song Mad World In a class playlist on purpose.

Reason #37 you should support my yoga teacher training: I know why yoga should be part of any athlete's training program (even yours!).

Reason #97 to support my yoga teacher training: I know how to leverage yoga to move into grief & create space for new.

Reason #3: because, like me, you believe yoga should be available to anyone, regardless of ability or economic status.

Reason #23: Because, like me, you believe in the power of community.

Reason #42: Because, like me, you believe that any body can be a yoga body.

Reason #42: Because, like me, you believe that any body can be a yoga body.

Reason #7: Because savasana is best started with guided meditation & a side of melted chocolate.

Reason #5: Because you believe in dreams, too.

Reason #19: Because you believe yoga teachers should come in all sizes.

Reason #111: Because I cuss like a yoga teacher.

Reason #89: Because it's easier to practice being out of your comfort zone from the safety of your mat.

Reason #119: Because I know how amazing it can be to start your day with early morning yoga.

Reason #7: Whether sweat, tears, or the ocean, I believe there's little that salt water can't resolve.

Reason #13: Because you know how far I've come.

Be the Universe

Apparently, when I wrote number four, the Universe took that as a personal challenge.

Specifically the part where I intended to not participate in formal Yoga Teacher Training this year.

The thing is that, strictly speaking, it really isn't in the budget. While we can juggle to make things happen (and will if we have to), it's not really a position that I'd like to be in or that I'm comfortable putting my family in.

To that end, I'm trying to make some extra money to pay for the training. I figure that, if the Universe thinks it's funny, then it certainly can help get me to my goals.

Yes.

You are the Universe, too.

Just for a moment I am going to assume that you are interested and willing to help me further my training. Maybe because you believe in me. Maybe because you'd love to take a class I'm teaching. Maybe because you've read my blog for years and you maybe feel obligated. So just for a moment I am going to assume, and I'm going to tell you all the ways you can help me reach my goal.

1. I have some stuff for sale at Fat Femme Laboratory. Because I don't plan to reopen my etsy shop right now (or possibly ever), ordering something is a little weird. If you're on facebook, you can message me with your request, or email me directly using the "contact the verbosery" email on the blog. I can let you know if what you want is still available, and how to get it in your hot little hands.

Just a note that the scrubs that are currently available are the first scrubs that I have ever offered for sale, and likely to be the last scrubs for sale at least until summer. Until now, the only way you could get a scrub was as a gift. I've gotten nothing but amazing feedback on these scrubs and use them myself. They are fantastic scrubs and unlike anything you'll find elsewhere.

2. Every book you buy contributes $9 to the fund.

3. Chip in directly. Don't have a need for baubels or trinkets? Want to just contribute directly? Whether $5 or $50, every little bit helps me get closer to my goal and is greatly appreciated.

Now the important question: what the hell is this paying for?

First:

Yin teacher training, one day intensive: I heard amazing things about this class when it was presented last year and I'd love to be able to participate this year. Registration is $99.

Second:

Yoga Assistant Training (25 hours): I took yoga assistant training last year and it was awesome. Assistant training is a great way to focus on pose alignment and the intentions of each asana. This year's training program is being offered by the Yoga Seed Collective and is being taught by an Ayurvedic practitioner and will be covering assisting from a different perspective than the training I took last year. I am really excited about this and the way it will help my assisting practice become more meaningful. I have been offered to take this course for free, as I am already assisting at the Seed (the All Bodies class on Monday nights, in case you're new here). While I am touched and honored by the offer, I would love to be able to pay my way into this class. Since the Seed is a non-profit, paying for the class helps them to help others. You can read more about the Seed's mission here. $239

Third:

Yoga Teacher Training at East Wind Yoga (100 Hours): I took their teacher training last year and was offered the opportunity to take this training at a discounted rate. I see this as an opportunity to deepen and expand my knowledge and experience. I loved this training last year and am looking forward to it again this year. $475

Grand total for all of the training is $813. Anything extra that I receive will go towards books and gas.

So, look. I don't like asking you guys for money. Does anyone? But something I learned last year in yoga teacher training is that, when you don't ask, you may be depriving someone of the opportunity to be of service. I also learned that I need to learn how to live with an open heart. Part of that is being willing to be open to what the Universe can provide.

Random Friday Thoughts

1. The reading assignments are really frustrating to me. My critical thinking brain just does not approve. Part of me wonders if it is not the automatic rejection of something challenging that I don't really want to *hear* right now. Part of me is pretty sure it's just contradictory, repetetive, and vaguely condescending.

2. I am totally collecting Easter candy to save for May. But just the good shit. Like chocolate covered Peeps.

3. I hope I can figure out how to get protein more efficiently soon. I did what was essentially five meals today and that is a serious amount of food. Hopefully, though, I'll feel good enough to run Sunday morning after a super long day of class and, likely, a shit ton of yoga.

4. I need a fucking nap.

5. I love it when the rain doesn't come all the way down.

Yoga Teacher Training - Week One

I've spent the last four days digesting the first weekend of yoga teacher training and attempting to come up with a way to share it with you, and I'm just not sure I know how.

It was intense. Because our time is relatively short, we really hit the ground running. We, as students, were given a very small series of poses to lead on the first full day. By the second day we were rotating out of practice to lead the next group of poses. We worked in small groups leading each other and as a whole, taking turns.

It was really intimidating to start leading a class so quickly, and I was kind of surprised at how comfortable with it I felt. Obviously, I'm not great, but I can see my problem areas and they are not - surprisingly - the ability to open my mouth and make directions come out.

I'm terrified of how much there is to learn. It's been a long time since I've had to memorize things without the benefit of using the crap out of whatever it is until it sticks. But I have to memorize the sanskrit, the cues for each pose, what the intention of the pose is and what the typical problems with the pose are. I have to learn about the 8 limbs of yoga and read, read, read.

I am so exhausted.

We were asked to forego gluten, sugar, processed foods, alcohol, and smoking. In my attempt to comply, I neglected to keep an eye on my protein intake, and my muscle recovery time took a nosedive. I'm taking a baby step back so that I can make sure I'm getting the protein I need, because I can't just gnaw off a hunk of cow.

I mean.

I could.

But I probably won't.

I was amazed and humbled by the openness with which students shared their feelings, experiences, problems. Instead of doing the behind-the-back snarking, griping or tattling, if there was a problem, we discussed it. Students took responsibility for their feelings in the situation and discussed what happened and why it bothered them, or why they disagreed with what happened.

Coming from an office setting, where back-stabbing and underhandedness can be the norm, it was truly amazing to see people act like grown ups and tackle a problem head on.

I am overjoyed to be doing this training with people I genuinely enjoy spending time with. I love watching their triumphs and growth. I feel so blessed to be able to witness their journeys.

It's a little overwhelming but it feels so much like home.

I cannot be more grateful to be on this journey, in this community, with these people.

I'm kind of afraid that four more weekends won't be enough.