Reversal of Fortune and the Wonder Wheel of Life: Everyday Magic, Day 1065

In mid-July, everything fell apart from air-conditioners to phones to cars and more. A growing river of money and time surged out to sea. I pulled out the credit card, tried to get some sleep, shrugged, and made dinner. I also took extra headache meds when needed and freaked out in tiny bouts in between reminding myself that this happens sometimes. As someone without a steady paycheck or a salary for that matter, I know well the hamster wheel of feast and famine that suddenly doesn’t just stop, but flies off and hits the hamster in the head.

We brought to the car to the shop, installed the new a.c., buy a phone, and went on our long-awaited vacation where our credit card continued to get an extreme sports workout. When we returned home, reversal of fortune! All the checks I was waiting on slowly landed while my phone made that delightful cash register ringing sound it does when people enroll in classes or pay for more coaching. Meanwhile, the prodigal car returned home from weeks in the shop finally fixed, I finished setting up the new phone, Ken replaced a bunch of light bulbs, and we did lots of mundane household tasks because before, during, and after reversals of fortune, there’s the laundry (and dishes).

Daniel & Ken show grace in going upside-down

The world is made of metaphors. On our vacation, when we got to Coney Island, Ken — to my surprise — said, “Let’s ride the Wonder Wheel.” I thought it was an ordinary ferris wheel, but no. Half the cars that hold riders are the love children of roller coasters and ferris wheels, suddenly rushing and tilting wildly at high speed before calming the $^%#& down again.

Not knowing any better, when we were asked if we wanted a tilting or stationary car, I chose the tilting one, thinking it would rock gently as we ascended and circled back now. Quite obviously I’ve chosen a life with roller coaster cars, but then again, it’s not a matter of choosing. This is what life does. While I have miles and lifetimes to go before I take life with greater equanimity, there’s a lot to be said for reminding ourselves that sometimes life goes upside down. Sometimes it rights itself, but be calm, anxious heart when it flips or surges again. It’s just another tilt of the ride.

Following the Curve – a New Book of Poems About an Old Tradition: Everyday Magic, Day 901

Where have I been? My writing energy is pouring into several book projects at once, all in the works for many years but coming to fruition this year. One of those projects is Following the Curve, a collection of yoga books coming out from Spartan Press late this summer. I’m especially happy to share this gorgeous painting by Rodney Troth, a spectacular artist in our midst who is letting me use this art for the cover of Following the Curve.

 Yoga, one of the oldest maps for being a body, says so much about cultivating a life of daring vitality and compassionate alignment. I’ve been practicing yoga as well as poems about yoga for a while, and I wanted to give you a sneak peak of one of the poems, “Devotion,” which is one of the Niyamas (along with self-study, discipline, contentment, and purification) for how to live.

Devotion (Ishvara-Pranidhara)

 

Surrender to the sleep that takes this body

down the tracks, a slim wave zigzagged

through milo fields and Osage orange overgrowth,

but who’s to say what’s in or out anymore?

 

When the motion stops, climb out of the train

that isn’t a train toward a cabin:

bunk beds with the still-damp swimsuits

hanging off the bed frame.

Too many people here, all sleeping but you

while squirrels race the rafters.

 

Then a test you’re not prepared for,

multiple choice questions in dead languages

that don’t even translate into writing.

 

You go outside, pick up a stick, and try

to make a circle on the bare ground

but it’s too dry. Then you realize

you’ve always been lost.

 

Sit cross-legged, your bare shoulders cold,

and try to remember all the Great Lakes:

Erie. Superior, Ottawa. Michigan. One more

but before you ask someone, you’re back on board,

your feet dangling out the open door

as the train picks up speed.

 

Moon spins into view between blurs of trees,

the descent into the cooling valley of night,

humming, Hallelujah to the dark. Hallelujah to the waking

that will land you into one time and place,

where you have one task always: devotion.

A Young Woman in the Land of Yoga: Everyday Magic, Day 867

13268489_1102129356513548_3281435603494530995_oThis weekend, my daughter Natalie will graduate from her yoga teaching training at Your Yoga in Minneapolis, a fine yoga center and school, six years after she first fell for yoga. When I visited with her in June, I found this post I wrote for a non-defunct yoga magazine, and in honor of her upcoming graduation, I share her first immersion into the land of yoga:

A Teenager In The Land of Yoga: 2011

Within the last year, my 18-year-old daughter—who I’d been inviting to come to yoga class with me for years—finally said yes. With a little trepidation for how much she might later make fun of chanting “Hare Krishna” or doing some intensive Pranayama, I drove us to Gopi’s yoga studio in the country where, surrounded by oxen, peacocks and kittens, I somewhat-regularly attend Monday night yoga class. We kicked off our shoes, walked upstairs to the yoga studio and set up mats and blankets.

Living with a pact of teenagers and young adults, I’m so attuned to life in the den of sarcasm that it’s hard to me to imagine reactions from my children that don’t include rolling of the eyes and shaking of the head along with that tell-tail sigh that leads into “Ma….om,” said in two syllables to emphasize how little I know. Which is true, but you don’t want to let onto a bunch of teens that the older you get, the less you actually know about anything anymore, so what little illusion of authority you think you have will be altogether blasted away. Given this, I had to wonder how Natalie would react, especially given the long stretch of chanting in the beginning, how Gopi led us in massaging our own feet, the long and deep forays into sun salutation, the quiet exploration of a mudra with our fingers doing their little gymnastics, and the instructions to imagine the lotus at the center of 13734949_1133197786740038_5973846212292012342_oour hearts, “ever fragrant, ever fresh.” I could see the flatulence jokes on the hoof.

After the 90-minute class, ending with a long corpse pose, we sat up, said “Namaste,” visited a little, and then headed downstairs to shoes, kittens outside longing for affection, and the car. “What did you think?” I asked buy cialis online cheapest Natalie as she fastened her seat belt.

“Those kittens are so cute.”

“Yeah, they are, but what did you think about the yoga?”

“I loved it.”

“All of it? Even the chanting and massage?”

“I loved everything about it. It’s the most relaxed I’ve been in months. I’m going to rearrange my work schedule so I can go with you every Monday night.”

Since then, she’s gone off to college, but whenever she’s back home, one of the first questions is when Gopi is teaching the next yoga class. Although she’s not so interested in doing yoga with me at our house, she’s now taking back to college with us an armful of yoga DVDs and a list of local classes to check out. Turns out that sometimes you can lead a horse to water and get her to drink….or in the case of my daughter, lead a teenager—who would otherwise be watching music videos, chatting on Facebook or making a pizza—to yoga where she can and will come home to herself.

13407042_10156953346325484_1123772047341389744_nAround the time I wrote this, I was dipping my toes in, then leaping into the refreshing vistas  of asanas, yamas, niyamas, and other parts of yoga Eight-Fold Path. Six years later, Natalie is wandering that land in everything from crow to corpse post. In between, she’s been sharing her growing love for yoga with others through seeking the clearest words and gestures to teach yoga in the right curve of each moment, both in her yoga teacher training, and in the classes she leads in her living room.

When I first fell in love with yoga, I was in for one of the biggest surprises of my life. Over the years since cancer and some gut calling sent me to the mat, I’ve continued to fall in love all over again with yoga, breath by firey breath, and stretch by heart-opening stretch. Seeing how much yoga gives this young woman, and how much she’s giving others already with her whole being, my wonder is multiplied by joy and contentment. Congratulations, Natalie, and may you continue to walk, sit, stand, and reach in the land of yoga.