12 February 2010

JEssay says has MOVED!

Jessie's blog and web portfolio have MOVED to wordpress!


Current Yoga Classes with Jessie, information about Yoga & Physical Thearpy, YogAscent Hand Powered Goods, and Jessie's yoga blog can be found at YogAscent.wordpress.com (click here)

Horseback & Hayloft Yoga classes, workshops and blog posts can be found at Horseback Yoga.wordpress.com (just click).


Om shanti shanti shanti.

11 February 2010

Weather

Colorado weather fascinates me.

It arrives suddenly
It rages
It passes, as suddenly,
to reveal blue-skied sunshine.

Unlike midwestern weather of my past
Which looms
Like heartache 
Or loss
Graying the skies for weeks,
months,
My skin turns gray, too.

I like the anticipation 
Of midwestern weather--
The mounting expectation, 
the building, as skies swell
Gradually
Into a fantastic delivery. 
There is nothing like a midwestern storm.

But wintertime becomes tiresome
Like a friend dwelling in sadness
Uninterested in solutions:
It defines a person, a place,
This emotional weathering.

Being here transforms me.
A deepening, then instant lift
of spirit:
Here I've become sunshine
Emotions pass through with the storms
Always to reveal light
After so long in dreary darkness.

Landscapes

Here is a small collection of landscape photos I shot on camp over the past nine months.  The dynamics of this western climate never fail to inspire and amaze me.  Being out here makes it easy to compose photos.  Enjoy!

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Pulling off at the side of Hwy 24 going west into Florissant.

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Guffey's swimming hole.  That's my buddy Ryan jumping from a high rock through the sun.

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A campsite on Sanborn property at dusk.

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A storm rolls in on Sanborn during a horse pack trip.

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Aspen!

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Jessie Spehar on Ebony rides into the clouds.

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Garden of the Gods.

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The ever-present Pikes Peak: I feel like it's watching me.

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Here's Pikes bathed in a summer sunset.

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My parents' solar-powered cabin nestled in the wet mountains of Canon City.

08 February 2010

Letter to My Parents

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm reading a nonfiction book by Richard Louv called Last Child in the Woods, and it's the kind of experience that I love from a book: Reading it awakens truths in me that I already knew, somewhere, but hadn't yet articulated.  It's bringing back memories I'd long since forgotten from my childhood; a perfect invocation in this season of wintertime reflection.

The program here at Sanborn, especially the HTOEC School Weeks outdoor education curriculum and philosophy, is very much in line with the concepts in this book.  Reading it affirms what I'm doing with my life (teaching children how to connect with the outdoor world) and helps me to realize how timely and essential this work is.

So much of today's youth spend a majority of their time plugged in, on phones, in front of a TV, sitting at a computer or playing video games.  There's the obesity problem.  Natural spaces are diminishing and a culture of fear often prevents parents from allowing their children to venture outside unsupervised.  Kids are forgetting--or never learning--how to BE in the outdoors.  There are more and more studies showing a direct correlation between less time spent in unstructured outdoor play and an increase in mental, physical, and emotional illness.  This shift away from the natural world is devastating to our society on so many levels.

So, among all this, I write to thank you for allowing nature and unstructured, imaginative play to be a formative part of my childhood.  Maybe you weren't aware, as a parent, of exactly what I was doing as I explored the neighborhood, and perhaps that's part of the beauty of it.  I want to thank you for letting me run loose around Windbury Court to play with friends.  On any given afternoon, we would jump down into neighbors' window wells to collect toads in an old bucket; we'd explore the spooky forest behind the Burkes house to see who was bravest; I'd pick berries (even though you'd told me not to) to taste their bitterness then come home with stained fingertips.  Thank you for watching with me in wonder as pheasants and foxes crossed the church lot behind out house at dusk.  Thanks for trusting that a ring of the cowbell you mounted on the front porch would bring me home for dinner.

When we moved to Orchard Valley, ours was one of the first newly developed lots, and I thank you for re-installing the cowbell on that front porch and again letting me run free.  Thanks, Dad, for not getting too angry when I sneaked your hammer from the tool bench and ran across the vacant lots to the big oak tree next to the Baneks, where the neighbor kids and I constructed a tree fort using the 2x4s and nails we found on construction sites.  Thanks for taking us sledding down the hills of the golf course when it snowed.  Thanks for letting the dogs run without leashes, us behind them.  We moved to Orchard Valley at the perfect time--before the open space of those lots was developed--and we moved away just as houses began to close in.

Thank you for the farm.  Even now, years later, I haven't found the words to encapsulate that time through junior high and high school.  Summer days on the back of my horse in the sunshine, watching fields and fields of cornstalks sway in the wind.  Those memories still soothe me today.

When developers snatched up the endless seas of farmland surrounding our five acres, and when we had to move, too, it was like a piece of me was lost--for a very, very long time.  College, the city, traveling ... I kept searching, but nothing seemed to fill that void.

And now, thank you for Colorado.  Mom and Dad, you are the reason I am here.  I guess I should thank Own Your Own Mountain dot com, too, eh Dad?  Having escaped the city and now rediscovering my Self, I'm happy as I was as a child in the woods.  There's magic in this environment, space for growth and a re-kindling of what I lost when I alienated myself from horses and from nature.

And now I have a job that values this essential connection to nature as much as I do.  I spend my days igniting wonder in kids who normally spend their days plugged in.  The shift that happens out here is profound, and their lives, I truly hope, are changed by it.

Howard Gardner talks about the eight intelligences (and possibly more--see his paper titled A Multiplicity of Intelligences).  One is the Naturalist Intelligence.  Because of you, I think that's me.  You guys instilled in me a deep love of the natural world, and now, since you've exposed me to Colorado, I've found it again.  Thank you.

Love,
Jessie

07 February 2010

Sanborn Blogging




I just posted a new entry to the Sanborn Western Camps blog about the transformative and healing power of quiet time in an aspen grove.  Check it out!

06 February 2010

Aspen Stand

I sit in this small aspen grove
My book and pen in hand
Taking a moment to absorb
Reflecting on the land

The wind picks up its haunting voice
Whispering through the trees
And I can't help but wonder if
Its message is for me

Far too much time I've spent the past
Cooped up inside all day
And gradually those forest voices
Start to drift away

Preoccupied with this and that
I'd spend my life inside
Until a profound part of me--
My Natural Self--died

The only way to get it back
And feel again like me
Is to take some time, like today,
To lean against a tree.

The voices of the forest, now,
Even as I sit here
They rise in volume and in voice
To captivate my ear

A promise to myself I make--
One with this aspen stand--
I shall never lose sight of me
And me in nature's land

02 February 2010

The Great Escape


I did chores this morning at the barn in my pajamas--fairly certain that after I filled water buckets, pulled our herd of 10 horses out of turnout to feed them, let them back in, doctored a few wounds and fed the goats, I would head home to my cabin and crawl back into bed.

Things went smoothly at first: the water wasn't frozen over for about the first day all week (we'd been having breaker/fuse problems), the horses came down from their top pen so I didn't have to hike through the pasture to catch them, and each horse stood with a feed bag tied to its muzzle eating grain and supplements without incident.

I fed the goats and rabbit while the horses munched, refilled water tanks and tended to the two horses with leg wraps.

I decided to keep Rocket, a lineback dun (a cream color with a darker dorsal stripe) mare with unfortunately dry, cracking hooves, tied up so I could give her feet some TLC.  I turned the rest of the herd loose into the pens.

I opened the gate to the upper hay trap and the horses moseyed through lazily, full from breakfast.

As I bent down to apply hoof dressing to Rocket's dry feet, her body tensed.  I heard a commotion.  Thundering hoofbeats pounded the ground.  I looked up to watch Misty, Izzy, Lola ... then Rev, Pete, Beauty, Cindy, Sandy--the entire herd--tear off out another side gate I'd accidentally left open.  Across the road, snow flew underfoot from their jubilant escape, and they disappeared into the Ponderosa forest near the four story treehouse.

I stood for a moment, staring at the trees where they'd disappeared, unbelieving.

Rocket's screaming whinny broke my trance.  Rocket, an ancy half-thoroughbred mare, had separation anxieties and a reputation for throwing a rider in the past.  In my mind, she was unpredictable at best and even potentially dangerous in a situation like this.  Riding her alone away from the herd was intimidating enough, but riding her as her fellow herd mates gallivanted freely was not my idea of a relaxing morning.

But what was my choice?  The ranch covers 6,000 acres, and I couldn't be certain that this small group of horses wouldn't stop until they reached our larger herd of 55, grazing in a far away pasture for the winter.  I kept hoping that they would circle back to the barn as I ran to grab my saddle and bridle.

I quickly tacked Rocket up, promising I'd give her a good grooming after the ride, stuffed extra halters into my saddlebags, and strapped my chaps on over my stretchy thin pajama pants.  Meanwhile, Rocket screamed at her runaway friends--wherever they were--and pranced side to side, pawing at the ground.  This was going to be interesting.

I swung up onto the saddle as she walked off in the direction they'd disappeared to.  The seat was freezing cold through my thin pants, which provided absolutely no padding.  Now I know why cowboys wear jeans, I thought.  I lengthened my breathing to exude calmness as Rocket pranced across the road and literally jumped over a ditch.

Searching for fresh tracks in the snow, I tried to relax into the idea that I wouldn't find the horses any faster if I was freaking out or berating myself for leaving the gate open.  Feeding my exasperation would only fire Rocket up more.  So, I set my intention for the ride: I am going to enjoy this searchAfter all, I thought, who do I know that has this particular set of problems?  I smiled as Rocket pranced into the Ponderosa forest, screeching a high-pitched whinny every few seconds.

Instead of trying to force her to flat walk (as was my first instinct), I flowed with her movement a bit, letting her jog a few steps then scratching her on the neck when she slowed.  It was counter-intuitive, but Rocket seemed to calm slightly: her head dropped lower and her tense body eased.

I couldn't find the tracks in the snow.  We headed toward the gate leading to Little Blue, a "mini-mountain"--the highest point on camp.  To my dismay, the gate was open.  This pasture extended beyond the mini-mountain and all the way to the front of Sanborn property.  They could be anywhere.  The good news: fresh horse tracks.

Rocket screamed.  No answer.  She's pretty much the outcast of the herd, so I didn't expect anyone to whinny back.  I scratched Rocket's neck, thanking her for trying.

At times, she lowered her nose, sniffing the ground as if to pick up a trail like a hunting dog.  Then she lifted her head with newfound determination and began to jog.  I was okay with this as long as it was a controlled speed.  She seemed to know our goal, or at least she wanted to find the others as much as I did.  As we passed through aspen groves coated with snow, the sun warming through the leaves, I couldn't help but grin to myself, thinking, This is better than a nap any day.  It was a clear, warm morning and Rocket was surprisingly great: I didn't feel out of control and she genuinely seemed to want to find the herd.  We wove along the trail, my eyes on snowy hoof prints, and ended up at the boy's camp barn.

Another open gate.  This time, tracks led everywhere--did those runaways have a party at Big Spring barn?  I couldn't tell what went where.  On a whim, I let Rocket guide me this time as we cleared the ridge toward the boys cabins and picked up the hoofprint trail again, this time heading back toward the High Trails girls camp and barn.  Rocket trotted along at a good clip, occasionally lowering her nose almost to the ground.  Uphill, she picked up a slow lope.  I let her continue until we reached the road where our journey had started.

Magically, there they were, all of them, just up the hill inside the top hay trap, casually munching on hay.  Rocket slowed to a walk.  I scratched her sweaty withers and we cruised back to the barn.

Maren, the riding director and barn manager, pulled up.  The herd had returned, puffing and damp with sweat, and she'd simply lured them back in through the gate with a bucket of grain.  They seemed glad to be home.  "I think they'll think twice before pulling that again," she said, "they know where they get breakfast."

As promised, I scrubbed Rocket until she was dry, thanking her for being so pleasant and determined on the trail, and thanking myself for having patience with her.  In this case, I had no choice but to trust her.  This ride helped me break through my fear, my preconceived ideas of Rocket's behavior on the trial.  She is really a sweet horse, wanting to please.  Like all horses, I'm learning, it just takes a little patience and the ability to listen without such an agenda to come to an understanding.  Rocket and I connected today, and that may not have happened had the herd not made their Great Escape.

What a way to spend my weekend morning.  I hadn't intended to ride, but I was glad I did.  And when I finally got back into my cabin, I napped like a baby and dreamed of horses.

These photos of Rocket and I, taken by Jenny Hartman, were shot a few weeks ago while on a far more low-key ride.

28 January 2010

The Center of Things

The sunset: a vortex
Pulling the clouds down
Out of the sky
A black hole of light

The moon, close
Rising as the sun sinks
Pivoting on some
Unseen anchor

It makes me feel like the center of things.

24 January 2010

Overcivilized

“Horses help overcivilized people reconnect with the wisdom and rhythms of the natural world.”   —Linda Kohanov

Pete, my wintertime project horse, tried out his new bridle today.

Before deciding to work as a wrangler at Sanborn, I hadn’t been on a horse in over four years. 

I practically grew up on horseback, riding in a rigorous lesson program since I was eight, owning and caring for horses on our small acreage all throughout high school, then attending my first year of college in Missouri to pursue Equestrian Science.  Unsatisfied by the small, rural town of Fulton, Missouri, I decided I needed a healthy dose of the civilized life, so I moved into the heart of Chicago and changed my major to Nonfiction Writing.  Living on the twenty-eighth story of a downtown apartment building, I cut horses out of my life entirely and took to sitting in cafes for long hours in front of a computer, sipping tea and glancing over the top of my books in an aloof, sophisticated manner.  I’d convinced myself that I loved the city, that I didn’t miss my country-girl upbringing, and that this new lifestyle was making me a better person.

Meanwhile, sitting in the library or any number of my favorite coffee shops, my hands lost their calluses.  There was no dirt beneath my fingernails.  My body became soft; my brain was the only defined muscle.  Then, slowly, without my awareness, it became over-defined.  I found myself unable to fall asleep.  My writing assignments were never good enough for me, even though my stellar 4.0 GPA would seem to prove otherwise.  I maintained the maximum course load, worked part-time, ran a writer’s group, and served as the president of a club I’d started with my roommate.  I worked insanely on my writing, obsessing in front of a computer, researching articles online until I couldn’t see straight.  I didn’t know it at the time, but there was a lack of something in my life I attempted to fill that void by trying harder, doing more, being smarter.  Still feeling empty, I began to turn inward, withdrawing from friends and family.  There were some days I only got out of bed to feed my cat.

In my last year of college, I was diagnosed with a Generalized Anxiety Disorder and suffered severe depression.  My doctor told me that I’d be on medication for the rest of my life.  This news was debilitating; how could I be one of those people?  I’d done everything right: I’d tried my hardest, I’d gone above and beyond most of my peers.

After graduation, I moved back in with my parents, unable to afford my life in the city.  Things did not improve.  I just wanted to be happy, but didn’t know how.  My mom asked me one day why I didn’t go visit the stable I’d taken lessons at as a kid.  I’d been unconsciously avoiding the barns I’d grown up at, for fear of the feeling of loss that gripped me each time I happened upon even so much as a picture of a horse.  The idea was unappealing.  But then she mentioned Sanborn, a western camp she’d learned about through a friend at work.  Apparently there was horseback riding there.  It was near my mom and dad’s new retirement home in Colorado.  We set up a visit for late December.

Meanwhile, I went back to the barn.  I didn’t even ride, just stood outside the stalls, gazing in at horses munching hay.  The sounds and sweet, dusty smell enveloped me.  Suddenly, I felt home.  The void in my heart felt full again, and my future seemed obvious.  I couldn’t get to Sanborn soon enough.

While working with kids and horses as a wrangler at High Trails symbolizes for me a Great Return to a life I’d rejected for something more civilized, it has also taught me much more.  In an increasingly sophisticated world, where over eighteen percent of Americans suffer from anxiety and depression in a given year, horse-human interactions serve as the best kind of medicine.  Apart from nature, there has been an over-intellectualizing of the self, a denial of the value of being present and authentic.  It’s so easy, interacting in society, to put on a mask and function as that false self.  Interacting with horses who don’t buy into the false image forces people—adults and kids alike—to be who they are, fully present, fully in the moment.  Horses inspire an authenticity that prescription medicine can’t replicate.

Getting Lune and Fiona ready for their Gymkhana event, Summer 2009
Photo by Jessie Spehar

The connections I witnessed last summer between campers and horses were profound.  There were some girls who couldn’t wait till the next time they got to ride.  It was not just some young girl fantasy coming true; it was a re-realization of the self, an invitation to exist spontaneously, creatively.  Perhaps they could not articulate it, but those girls felt more alive—more themselves—in the presence of horses.

Looking back, I wasn’t wrong when I assumed I’d become a more complete person by moving into the city and immersing myself in what I perceived to be important.  I needed to witness the darkness of a life where images of busyness, over-achievement and hyper-intellect are so heavily praised, so that I could find a balance and become aware of how fortunate a life with horses truly is.  Now, looking forward to the enhancement of next summer’s riding program (I will be Head Wrangler for the girls camp), I am eager to share this horse-wisdom with the girls.  It is my hope that they, too, can experience and cultivate an awareness of the grounding effect horses have on our species, so that they can embark on their worldly pursuits as authentic, joyful, and whole people.

One happy camper!

If you desire more information about the horse-human dynamic, I urge you to take a look at Linda Kohanov’s nonfiction book, Riding Between the Worlds.  It has been tremendously enlightening for me.

19 January 2010

My Yoga Class Opens to the Public

Just a quick note of exciting news:

The yoga class I have been teaching since November at The Nature Place is now, officially, open to the public!  Do you know of anyone who lives in Florissant or Woodland Park, Colorado?  Let them know and spread the word.

Every Tuesday and Thursday
6:30pm-7:30pm
The Nature Place Conference Center, Florissant Colorado
Bristlecone Conference Room, downstairs
Yoga mats, props, and restrooms provided
Contact JessieYoga@gmail.com

16 January 2010

My Memory is a Child's Toy

My past
Viewed through a kalideoscope
Does not always swirl, colorful.

Pieces get caught
In the internal mechanisms
Of this child's toy
So that the sight consists of fragments of fragments
With others left out, forever hiding in dark corners.

I like to practice remembering.
Puzzling these pieces together
Aware that my construction of the past--
As I shift, slowly, through fragmented colors--
Won't match your's: it can't.
Nor should it.

I used to be content
To use the aid (the crutch?)
Of photographs and words
In my practice of remembering.

However
I have noticed this:
Taking the camera away from my face
Strengthens the memory muscle
And so do my friends:
We take moments from the day
To delve into the past
And watch the show.

15 January 2010

IAM Meditation Technique

Meditation eluded me for a long time.

I was initially drawn to yoga (and not meditation) because my busy, anxiety-ridden mind needed more, at first, than just the breath to focus on in order to become still.  Yoga is meditation in motion, breathing through postures to practice awareness.  In classes back in Chicago, once I flowed through an hour and a half practice and ended in the final relaxation pose, Savasana, my mind quieted enough to rest in stillness.  However, the idea of waking up an hour before I started my day to sit with my legs crossed and my eyes closed was just not working for me.

Whenever I did try meditation, I'd either fall back asleep or I couldn't slow my mind enough:  My hip hurt, my back was tired, I-really-should-write-that-down-before-I-forget ... thoughts seemed to speed up during my meditation practice, and before I knew it I was jumping out of my skin, far from the blissful zenned-out state I was trying to attain.

Compared to when I started practicing yoga six years ago, my ability to sit in stillness had improved.  Still, I felt I needed guidance.



A few months back, my great friend told me about an inexpensive meditation training she would attend in December.  My ears perked up.  It was supposed to be a simple technique that anyone could do, offered for free (aside from the cost for lunches) as long as practitioners committed to practicing every day for one month after training.  An easy meditation class for free?  Why not?  I signed up to go to Boulder with my friend for the two-day training.

It has since been just over one month since I was trained in the IAM Meditation Technique.  The training was simple, concise, and thorough: it lasted two days, and an ayurvedic lunch (sooo delicious!) was provided.  The meditation practice only lasts twenty five minutes each morning, and surprisingly, I haven't felt drowsy during meditation.  I actually look forward to waking up in the morning and starting my day this way.  Who knew meditation could be so accessible?

This technique was originated by Amma, who, according to the Amma.org website, "has inspired and started innumerable humanitarian services. She has earned international recognition for her outstanding contributions to the world community. She is recognized as an extraordinary spiritual leader by the United Nations and by the people all over the world."  The training was led by an authorized teacher of the technique, and upon completion of the training, I received a certification card.

The practice begins with some simple stretches to awaken the body, followed by various breathing techniques and visualizations.  This helped me, personally, with the issue of trying to clear my mind of thoughts.  There are steps throughout the practice that guide the mind, focusing on various visuals as the practice progresses.  And then it's done in twenty minutes!

The benefits are astounding.  Obviously, I've started writing again.  I am more in touch with my creativity, more aware of the interconnectedness of ideas and thoughts I encounter during the day.  I see my life from the perspective of the witness: I'm less affected by the things that happen to me and more able to act from a place of intelligence.  I have clarity as I greet the day: life is more colorful, more vibrant.  I feel capable of taking on responsibilities that I had been avoiding before.  I can balance the events of my day more effectively.  I feel more intuitive, solving problems with a quick efficiency that I haven't felt, maybe ever.  I'm in the zone!

This meditation technique is "a synthesis," according to the website, "of traditional, time-tested methods suited for the current mental conditions, time constraints and needs of modern man."  It's the busy-person's guide to quick and effective meditation.  Corporations train their employees in this technique, and it is often offered to college students to increase concentration, calmness, and productivity.  Testimonials on the site show the variety of benefits for all sorts of people.

IAM is not, I learned, solely for spiritual people or those who are into yoga.  There is no religious affiliation: it is a simple mental practice.  However, like yoga, this practice can enhance whatever spiritual affiliation a person has.

It is now about a week past my obligatory month of practice, and I show no signs of stopping.  I would invite anyone interested to find a class nearby and see what benefits it can bring you!

14 January 2010

Sanborn Blogging


I have posted a new entry on the Sanborn Western Camps blog titled Raven Raindrops, where I write about the value of dedicating three minutes out of the day take yourself on a hike, even if it's just down the block.  Check it out!


Also, the No Child Left Inside Act is up for reconsideration, and we all have an opportunity to let the Board of Education know that outdoor education should have a place in public schools.  Click here for more details!

08 January 2010

Exciting Writing


When it rains, it pours! 

This first week of 2010 has brought tidal waves of changes in the writing realm! 

I have officially started writing my book.  After almost an entire year of not writing (aside from my daily personal journal entries), I finally feel the strong pull to craft something big.  I needed this idle time, what author Linda Kohanov brought to light in her Way of the Horse as the concept of wu wei: the Taoist principle of non-doing.  This long period of non writing cleared my mind of self imposed expectations, limitations, and old writing habits that had stripped the joy from my process.  While I battled with a critical voice telling me that I should be writing, I trusted that it would come when it was ready.

It seems perfectly serendipitous.  During this lull of winter, when I nanny during the day and teach yoga two evenings a week, there’s so much time and space for writing.  My process is now supported fully by my yoga practice and my twice-weekly horseback rides on Pete through the untouched snow.  I’ve outlined my book—a collection of nonfiction essays organized by various places (like Little Blue, Hi Tor, the High Trails lodge, the barn) throughout these magnificent 6,000 acres—and I have already, just this week, roughed out two entire chapters.  I feel like my leaky faucet is now a torrential waterfall … and it shows no signs of stopping!

I was invited this week to contribute to the Sanborn Western Camps blog, sharing musings on camp life, the importance of outdoor education, kids, horses, nature, and the outdoors.  I’ll keep you updated as I post to that blog.

Additionally, I found a writing competition while perusing the Yoga Journal website last night to look up some poses for my class.  Yoga Journal is hosting a blog contest, the winner of which will contribute to the YJ blog for six months.  This would be a dream come true, opening up a conscious dialogue as I observe how yoga affects all aspects of my daily life and the lives of those around me.  I am where I am today because of yoga, I use yogic techniques in my teaching of horseback riding to both kids and adults, and now I’m teaching yoga at The Nature Place for the season.  This blog would chronicle the exciting outdoorsy life of Jess as I teach outdoor ed, practice and teach yoga, work as a wrangler, and then (hopefully) move to Boulder and search for yoga teacher training certification! 

Wish me luck and thanks all for your continued support in my writerly endeavors.

06 January 2010

Breathe

Tonight
the sun sets.
Its yellow illuminating Pikes Peak
as though this were its last chance
to show humans
its truest expression
of beauty.

What if it were you
with one last chance
or one last day:
What would you do
to die
fulfilled?

If it were me,
I’d show you a love
so deep
you would cry
spontaneous tears of joy
and you would be full as me.

In fact, here,
I’ll show it to you now
Open your heart to the sky
and breathe.

02 January 2010

Sponge

I used to be a sponge
Sopping
with the wisdoms of others

Still unfulfilled,
I squeezed myself out
Dry
I disappeared
Evaporated into a sky of nothing

Just in time
I chased the sun West
My soul expanding
into this vast land

I never knew it needed so much space

Now I drip
Forming truthful rivers
deltas
an ocean:
I flow
Free

Frida's Eyebrows

I often dream
of Frida's eyebrows

Dark, unrestricted
unrestrained
but not unruly

I wonder,
pondering her grooming habits,
how her lips move
when she eats

The Sun and Moon

The sun and moon had a face-off
Their galactic staredown lasted all day
The sun, fierce, intense, blazing
The moon, calm, steady, persistent
Reflective.

At the end of the day, the sun grew weary
Allowing himself to sink slowly into sleep
While the moon smiled softly,
For she knew he would be back for more
Tomorrow.

She shines through the night.


20 December 2009

13 December 2009

... A Few of my Favorite Things ...



There have been three books that I've recently become acquainted with, and they have given me lots of awesome thoughts to chew on. The first, The Key Muscles of Hatha Yoga, by Ray Long, details the anatomy of various yoga poses. My mom and dad sent it to me yesterday for my birthday, and I read half the book on the first night. It's an incredible tool for teachers and students of yoga because it gives visuals of what is happening in the body during the asanas. Already, as I practice, I see and feel the muscles differently--more accurately and in more detail than ever before. Also, the website provides incredible 360 degree diagrams of a great number of poses. It's a great tool for teachers and students of yoga. Definitely check it out if you're interested in yoga and/or understanding the body.



The Ayurvedic Cookbook by Amadea Morningstar gives readers a checklist to determine their "dosha" or constitution--it be Kapha, Pitta, or Vata--and then gives fantastic recipes that fit each of the constitutions. This is a way to eat right for your Whole Self. This book is opening up an entirely new world for me: I usually hate cooking and never really learned how to do it. However, in this frame of knowing that I'm creating dishes that are best suited to my body, I'm actually excited about making dinner! It's one way of holistic healing that I'm really getting into, and The Ayruvedic Cookbook is the perfect introduction to this new way of looking at health.



My sister, Katie, gave me Guided by the Moon by Johanna Paungger and Thomas Poppe a number of years ago when she and I went through what we called a "moon phase." I have been looking at it on and off since then, and recently, I've been almost obsessively reading into its folksy and astrological wisdoms. It is a comprehensive guide to living life according to the phases of the moon--with advice on what days to get a haircut, when to soak the feet, when the hips or stomach will be extra sensitive, when to avoid eating salts, to name a few. From what I have noticed, many of its explanations have been correct. I've noticed that my body's rhythms are very much related to the lunar cycle, and the more that I read, the more I am convinced that there are great forces at work on all of our bodies. Even if you are a skeptic, this book is fun to refer to, and helps foster greater self-awareness, if nothing else.

12 December 2009

Turning 25

Happy Birthday to Me!

On December 14, 2009, I will reach a quarter-century in age.

I'm a college graduate, turning 25, living in a cabin in the woods, barely making my loan payments each month, with no phone reception unless I drive fifteen miles into an open field and park just-so in between two trees ... and I couldn't be happier.

A lot of my friends I've spoken with lately are struggling with ideas like FINANCIAL STABILITY, getting A REAL JOB, affording HEALTH INSURANCE, finding a way to USE THEIR DEGREE, trying to MAINTAIN FREEDOM, figuring out what kind of LIFESTYLE they want to live ... some of my girlfriends approaching their thirties are beginning to freak out because they haven't found A GOOD MAN and they feel they are running out of time because they need to START HAVING BABIES (yikes!)! This is certainly the time to do this type of deliberating.

Fortunately, I feel that I'm in a secure, supported place as I break into my quarter century of life. From what I can gather through various experiences, think I've figured out some general guidelines for myself regarding how to be--and stay--fulfilled.

1. KNOW YOUR PASSION
This is not an easy thing to do. Sometimes it takes therapy. Sometimes it takes quitting a job that I'm very, very comfortable with, sometimes it takes trying something new, sometimes it takes teaching something I know to somebody else. It takes meditation and journaling and inner digging, searching and searching and feeling utterly lost sometimes. Persistence, never giving up until I find what it is that fulfills me.

2. DO YOUR PASSION, EVERYDAY, NO MATTER WHAT
No excuses. Find a way to do it. Wake up a bit earlier. Get a job that incorporates it. If it's still impossible, I imagine myself doing my passion so that I am spending energy making it real.

I spent four years at a writing school because I knew Writing was my passion. Sitting behind a computer obsessively and spending so much time in my mind and not in my body drove me to another passion: Yoga. That still took place (mostly) indoors, and I still wasn't fulfilled until I moved outside and found Horses again. It took years for me to realize my passions, but once found, things have been unfolding for me in amazing ways.

3. RECOGNIZE THE POWER OF INTENTION, AND USE IT!
When I was very depressed, about this time last year, my therapist told me to write--in as much detail as possible--a description of my ideal life. She said, "Describe where you're living, who your friends are, even a description of what your ideal man is like." I read over that journal entry the other day, and was amazed at what I found there: I had written that I was living in a place very close to nature, I was riding horses every day, I was surrounded by friends who loved and supported me, I was working at a job in the outdoors, I'd met a very athletic, attractive, outdoorsy-adventure-loving guy who was taller than me, very fit but not too muscley, had big lips and a short beard (yes, I went into that much detail). And I dated that guy last Spring. For those of you who don't know, that was my life over the past three seasons.

Every few months, I return to this useful exercise: I write down the details of my ideal life. It changes about that often, so it's useful to do this frequently. Then, for about a week (or however long I feel I need to), I read that journal entry first thing when I wake up in the morning. And then it comes true!

4. TAKE CARE OF YOUR BODY/MIND
Here's a cultural strangeness: many people I know feel that they need to put others' needs before their own,-- the expense of their own needs. Especially women. While outwardly this may seem like a selfless, positive quality, it's really self-sabotage. The only way we can serve the world (our family, our friends, the community) is if we are secure and actualized in ourselves first. Then we will be equipped to help others in the best way possible.

Putting others' needs before one's own is often a convenient excuse to avoid self-study: "Oh, I don't have time to exercise or meditate; I have kids/dogs/a husband/school/friends who need me/fill-in-the-blank." Gandhi says "As human beings, our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world--that is the myth of the atomic age--as in being able to remake ourselves." I like this idea.

5. OFFER YOUR GIFTS TO THE WORLD
Once I feel that I'm living as my true self, it becomes easier and hugely fulfilling to give to others. I'm aligned for it; I have energy and it becomes a joyful process. Whether that's teaching kiddos to ride horses for the first time, teaching someone how to listen to their breath, or just being there to listen to a friend. It comes easily and naturally, and fulfills me in a bigger way than anything else.


It seems to me that these guidelines apply to people at any stage in life. Passions change--that's important to remember. So someday, perhaps, my passion will shift toward making babies (as of now, I highly doubt it, but I'm open to it), and then I will align my life accordingly. It's when we don't live by our heart's innermost desires that we become unhappy, full of anxiety, and depressed.

So as I turn 25, it is my hope that you, me, and everyone we know, make the decision to live by our heart's desires, to find our passions, and to realize them each day. Happy quarter-century.