Writing Yoga and Moving Words

A few years ago, I drove down the highway into Philly and had to pull over. I had a blast of insight: a yoga workshop with writing! And not only the idea (which is by no means original) but how to structure it: vignettes of movement narrated by a story. Meditation. Partner work. A related prompt and time to respond to it. Swapping writing silently with the yoga partner. Providing constructive feedback. Rinse. Repeat.

I've offered iterations of this intial idea several times in many locations. It's such an interesting thing-- these workshops don't fill as quickly as say, a retreat to Vietnam. Yet, when studios or students contact me, it's probably the first offering they request.

One of my students and friends finished her senior year at Smith College. She invited me upto Smith to offer a yoga and writing workshop during the VegFest conference on campus. (This friend is also a badass animal right's activist.) It was such a treat to head back to Northampton. I hadn't been since I was an undergrad student at nearby Mount Holyoke. The town had changed drastically and yet I still knew it intimately. I brunched at a Smith dining hall with my friend and other students. I remembered doing the same many, many times with Smith friends during my stint in the Pioneer Valley.

We had a beautiful, intimate workshop at a research station on Smith's campus. This workshop delved into tonglen meditation, activism, and used sample poems by Mary Oliver, Aracelis Girmay, and Naomi Shihab Nye, to aid participants in cultivating the internal reserves to be activists, the necessary compassion, and insight.

I was invited to offer this workshop again in Philadelphia at The Wellnest. This workshop focused on ego, fear, purpose, and transcendence as illuminated by yoga poses and related poems. After feeling the poses in their own bodies, participants read related pieces by Denise Duhamel, Theodore Roethke, Wendell Berry, and TS Eliot. Looking through my own notes from that evening, I found the following snippet from my own response to a prompt:

When it rains the wndow remembers our fingers drawing constellations in steam.

When it rains the door blows open and the neighbor's cat claims the corner sofa.

When it rains my skin is humid and unapologetic.

When it rains the earth sucks and receives.

My feet tattoo soil.

My steps stain the floor.

Until the wind blows the rain sideways and all trace of me is gone.

I'm grateful to have received another invitation to offer one of these workshops. I met my friend, Abby, while training in India. She's a beautiful human, yogini, and director of Hamptons Yoga and Healing Arts. The workshop will be Saturday July 25, 1-4 pm. For those considering enrolling, Abby has offered to help with housing. I can help with rides from Philly and my friend and fellow India trainee, Aaron, is willing to take folks with him from NYC. Email me if you would like to coordinate rides. 

Still curious about the relationship between yoga and writing? My Mythic Beings Retreat collaborator, Caits Meissner, and I wrote companion pieces on just this topic! (Psst! Come with us on retreat!) Read Caits' piece on how yoga can make you a better writer on MindBodyGreen. My friends at Rebelle Society published my piece on writing informing yoga. (This was my first piece that generated fan mail! Rush!) 

I'm steadily in awe of the space yoga creates in my body, breath, and mind. In that space, there is creative generation. There's healing. There's wonder.

Cats!

My house is now messier & in equal proportion, more fun. Once more, we have cats!

In the last year or so, Kevin and I began trying to emotionally prepare ourselves for when Laz left. He was almost 20 (or maybe 20, we're not quite sure on his date of birth) so we knew that every day we got with him was a gift. We were devastated to lose him. The plan was to immediately adopt brother kittens. We knew they would never replace Laz, but kittens are distracting, we have space, and there are tons of animals in shelters. We felt like it was the right thing.

However, Laz left us right before Thanksgiving. We had a good deal of planned travel coming up: holiday visits to family, the yoga retreat in St Lucia, and my study in India. We decided the most responsible thing was to wait to adopt cats when I got home from India so that the house was more stable and we were around to get to know the new critters.

We checked in with friends who foster and do animal rescue. Apparently, late spring is kitten season. During the winter, there aren't usually many kittens to adopt. After a week of looking through emailed photos (which felt weird-- how do you chose?) we started visiting shelters. Depressing. So depressing. So much love to those who do the work. I really can't imagine.

We got a call one night from a shelter coordinator. She knew we were looking for bonded cats, or cats who felt close to one another and wanted to stay together. We figured these cats often get separated. If we can keep them together, as there are currently no animals in our house, bonus. Also, these animals tend to do well. And, we travel some. We figured having each other might make our departures easier on the animals.

I was scheduled to meet with a couple whose wedding I'll officiate this spring at the time we were asked to go to the shelter. Kevin went in my stead. As I left my meeting I called Kevin. He said, "I have two cats playing on my lap. They love a third. Can I keep them?"

I raced to the shelter. When I got there, all three cats had sort of shut down due to the stress of being in the shelter environment. I didn't know what to say. Are these my cats? Or not? Kevin felt connected so I agreed.

Their foster Mom cried. She really loved them but couldn't keep them. She'd found them abandoned in the apartment of evicted tenants. We promised we'd take good care of them.

When we brought them home I started to cry. I didn't want to impose that on these guys, but the whole process brought on a new wave of grief over Laz's loss. I knew these cats would simply be a different experience. I still missed Laz. I felt his absence a bit more acutely.

Maurice, the white and black fluffy boy, immediately decided our house was his house. He is about a year and a half and was originally thought to be the mother of the younger black cats. It was discovered that he's a boy and only about 6 months older than the other two. He could be their father, but we don't know. Regardless, he cares for the little guys and plays with them.

And when I come home, this is what I see:

He's a character.

George and Estelle are the younger brother and sister. George is a love bug in the early mornings and loves to play with Maurice. Estelle is coming out of her shell a bit, but definitely the most reserved and skiddish of the three. They figured out our bedroom closet is where it's at: high ground for good visibility, slightly hidden, and a warm bed of all my sweaters and scarves.

These guys went from being abandoned in an apartment, to fostered in a sunroom, and now have run of our whole house. They are taking full advantage!

Everyday, we all get more accustomed to one another. Multiple cats is super fun. They're ridiculous and play with each other. Our friends have been dropping by with cat toys. I feel like it's a slow trickle baby shower. Our house is way more fun with their fuzzy presence.

I feel like I'm continuing to learn what Laz taught me: I can love really well and fully. I felt so connected to Laz. I knew him since I was 15. I thought that type of connection might have gone with him. Instead, I'm starting to see that he helped me develop that capacity. I still miss him and no other bond is quite the same. However, I'm getting closer with these animals. We're getting to know each other. Laz taught me that when you pay good quality attention to other creatures, they pay attention back. And your life is more full for the engagement.

Live in scale

I'm starting to think that limitations are sacred.

I said that to a friend yesterday & she responded, "that's why we bind in yoga."

I have smart friends.

There are tons of things I want.  I want no financial limits.  I want to travel wherever without worry about budget or allotted vacation time... or sometimes even potential safety risks.  I want things to go "my way" (whatever that is).  I want my metabolism to be faster.  I want to need less sleep.

I'm pretty clueless about what I need.  Usually after the fact, I can recognize something that I originally interpreted as restrictive as ultimately useful.  I see that by waiting, budgeting, working towards whatever my want may have been, helped me better respect and utilize its realization.

Beyond that, why should I get whatever I want?

I have had the huge fortune and privilege to travel extensively.  I've seen that most of the world does not share my access.  There are financial barriers as well as border impediments.

Whenever I travel I learn about different ways to craft one's life.  I often see innovative partnerships with the environment, such as rain barrels, clothes lines, intricately formed and spatially-efficient gardens, community collaborations, and collectives.  These efforts are crafted intentionally, sometimes out of necessity and other times out of a desire to live in scale with one's environment.

It's such an important reminder.  Most of the world's human population does not receive what they want.  Unfortunately, too many don't even receive what they need.  Not only humans, but animals by and large live in scale.  They eat seasonally or what they can access (often around human interference).  Plants absorb the nutrients and resources that they can reach.  All living things are contained in some way, hemmed in.

I remember saying to a friend years ago that when I had extra money I felt my resolve towards projects I deemed worthy waver.  I would feel comfortable and a bit softer.  When my resources were smaller, I felt more motivated and also more connected to other people and living beings.

I think of that now.  I've been feeling certain limitations recently.  Restrictions pressing against what I want.  I'm beginning to be grateful for these perceived boundaries.  Why should I have everything I want?  I don't think that would make me a better person.  I don't think that would increase my capacity for compassion.  I don't think it would add to my sense of solidarity and affinity with others, especially those disenfranchised, with whom I hope to align.  I don't think I would pay as close attention to some of the governing factors in the lives of animals nor plants.

I'm bound.  I'm bound into a network of living beings and resources.  I want to stay within that web, which by definition has boundaries, perimeters, limits.  They are sacred.

Galapagos Galloping: Tortuga Bay on Isla Santa Cruz

Hands down, my favorite spot in all of the Galapagos is Tortuga Bay on Isla Santa Cruz.  This is a public beach, open daily from 6 am - 6 pm.  Humans aren't permitted on the beach outside those hours to offer marine turtles uninterrupted opportunities to lay eggs and nest.  Parts of the beach are off limits when iguanas are nesting and laying eggs as well.

So great that the animals are offered such consideration.

A short walk out of the Santa Cruz's main drag brings you to the gatehouse to sign into the park.  You're afforded views like this:

From the gatehouse, you hike on a paved trail three miles to the beach.  There's no food or vendors on the beach, so you either hike with a picnic or go before or after lunch.  Close to the opening & closing hours tons of local runners jog up and down the path.

And then you reach the promised land.

 The sand feels like pancake batter.  So so soft.

These guys are just about everywhere.  The iguanas play on the lava rocks at the beach.  When they're ready, they swim into the surf to find some seaweed.  Afterwards, they lay sated in the sun.  The sun literally cooks the seaweed in them to digest.  No need to be afraid.  The most these guys will do is hiss.  I still gave them ample space-- I was but a guest in their home.

How to idle away a day?  A staring contest is a good start.  Kevin lost multiple rounds.

This cove had absolutely clear water.  Lots of folks bring their own snorkel gear.  That's fun & fine, but honestly, I didn't feel like it was necessary.  The lizards and minnows flit right past, easily visible through the clear water.

(Did I just freak you out by saying that you're swimming with lizards?  It's totally fine.  Wide berth.  Seriously, they grow on you.)

These guys are absurd.

We set up camp in the mangrove.  Ample shade, a place to hang my cover up, and soft sand while we lay and read.

Shade naps are the best.

When you look up, you can say "hi" to a finch.

Galapagan Galloping: Isla Isabella

During February 2013, Kevin & I passed 10 encanted days in the Galapagos.  As I wrote in previous posts, we made our base camp on Isla Santa Cruz, the main island.  Many travelers also spend some time on Isla Isabella.  In fact, many travelers favored Isabella because on this island you can find hostals and hotels directly on white sand beaches.  It is a draw!  If we ever find our way back to the Galapagos, I would spend a few nights on Isabella, Floreana, & San Cristobal.

This visit, we wanted to see as much as possible while still having some flexibility & relaxation.  We felt like we accomplished that well taking days of rest on Santa Cruz's beaches in between tours to other islands.  Our first tour was to lauded Isabella.  It's quite a ways- the speed boat took three hours to reach shore!  Note to travelers-- if you have the choice, opt to sit outside of the cabin.  On the way to Isabella we were inside the cabin.  Between the motion and the diesel fumes, I became truly seasick.

But then we arrived.

A short ways from town proper you come to a lava lagoon that is a popular hang-out with some island flamingoes.  Galapagan islands all have their own unique landscape and animal inhabitants.  This site was truly distinct from Santa Cruz, or any of the other islands.

Wild life abounds.

On Isabella we caught our first glimpse of the famous Galapagan turtles!  We saw them wild on several other islands, but this first sight was at a breeding center.  The population was nearly decimated by pirates who would store & eat turtle meat, introduced animals like goats, & environmental devastation.  This breeding center is working to escalate and stabilize the turtle population.

There are several distinct breeds on the archipelago.  This specific type of turtle has the shell that inspired the name: "Galapago."  "Galapago" is an old Spanish word meaning "saddle."  Spanish pirates thought this shell looked a lot like saddles back home.  The name stuck,eventually labeling the entire archipelago.

Baby turtles!  And teenage turtles!  And mutant turtles!  And ninja turtles!

Our first sighting of blue-footed boobies.

Better boobies.

Best boobies.

The day we visited was overcast-- and stormy at sea when we journeyed between the islands.  The grey sky really increased our ocean visibility.  The waters surrounding Isabella are filled with these small sharks.  I was told they're not fans of eating humans.  Thankfully.

The lava rock on this particular island was so hot-- constantly internally heated!  The lava rock surrounding this little tunnel of ocean water was a particularly warm and sheltered spot for sharks to sleep.  A whole family is snoozing at the ocean floor.

And around the cove opening, a marine turtle.

More slumbering sharks.

They're kinda cute!

Baby shark slumber party!

On shore, holy iguanas!  February is mating season for turtles, iguanas, sea lions, and several species of birds.  These iguanas are largely females digging to bury their eggs.  Frigates circled overhead to snack on easily accessible eggs.  Many beaches were off limits to humans to protect the fetal iguanas.

An iguana summit.  This particular island off of Isabella proper felt a bit post-apocalyptic.  Sharks, iguanas, crabs, and hot lava rock.  A sweetly closed system that I am so grateful to have witnessed.