Pinocchio takes a much needed dip in the river after a long trail run.

Pinocchio takes a much needed dip in the river after a long trail run.

(Source: passthegif, via ocottage)

halftohalf:

The only way to be fit is to get out there and work that body of yours. What are you waiting for? Get nature bound.

halftohalf:

The only way to be fit is to get out there and work that body of yours. What are you waiting for? Get nature bound.

lifeyogakingston:







Coming back to the mat when nothing’s changed, but everything’s different

On the first day of a four-day yoga retreat, a student went in to see the teacher with whom she’d been studying for many years. Sitting at the teacher’s feet, she asked, “Can you tell me how I’m doing in my practice?” The teacher thought for a minute, then said, “Open your mouth.” The student opened her mouth, and the teacher peered in and said, “OK, now bend your head down.” The student bent her head down, and the teacher looked into her hair, then said, “OK, now open your eyes really wide.” The student opened her eyes, and the teacher glared into them and said, “You’re doing fine.” Then she rang her bell - signalling for the students to leave. The next day, the student returned, quite perplexed by what had happened the day before. “I asked you how I was doing in my practice yesterday,” she said, “and you made me open my mouth, bend my head, and open my eyes. What did all that have to do with my practice?” The teacher bowed her head in thought. Then she said, “You know, you’re not really doing very well in your practice, and the truth is, I am not sure you are ever going to make it.” Again she rang her bell. The students walked out. You can imagine how confused and angry the student felt. The next day she went back, still fuming, and said, “What do you mean, I’m not going to make it in practice? Do you know that I come to yoga classes for an hour every day? Sometimes I come twice a day. I also come to every retreat. I have really deep experiences. What do you mean I’m not going to make it?” The teacher just sat there, apparently thinking. Then she said, “Well, maybe I made a mistake. Perhaps you’re doing pretty well after all.” And, again, she rang her bell. On the last day of the retreat, the student went back to see her teacher, utterly exhausted. She felt distraught and confused, but she was no longer fighting it. She said to the teacher, “I just wanted to know how I was doing in my practice.” This time, the teacher looked at her and with no hesitation, in a very kind voice, said, “If you really want to know how you’re doing in your practice, look at all of your reactions over the last few days. If you really want to know how you’re doing in your practice, just look at your life. If you really want to know how you’re doing in your life, just look at your practice.”

When it all falls apart
Practicing yoga daily centres me in my ‘me-ness’. I practice and my body takes over, my mind alignes. I see clearly and think without trying. Without my daily ritual, I feel cloudy and heavy, like I am never, fully, awake; however, when I find that, off the mat, life has taken an unexpected turn and I get knocked out of practice, coming BACK to my mat can be really difficult. I have this mix of emotions - I know that I’ll feel better when I practice, I’ll re-find my me-ness, yet I stay away. I feel frustrated and guilty for maintaining the drama and unease, yet I stay away. I feel bad for feeling bad. Next, I’ll start eating poorly, sleeping irregularly, and making irrational choices. Where am I? Inevitably, begrudgingly, I will step onto my good ole’ Manduka and, slowly, come back to life. I’ll catch my breath again, my eyes will seem more open, and I’ll think, “What was I thinking? I am never abandoning the practice again”.
Practice makes imperfect
It’s important to have a daily yoga practice because doing so enables you to see thoughts clearly and to reside in your bodily experience. But having deep experiences on your mat is not enough. If you want to know how you’re doing in your practice, examine your life. Your yoga practice in the studio is, after all, just a dress rehearsal for the yoga that you’ll do off the mat. Asanas, or the shapes we move through during, for example, Surya Namaskaras (Sun Salutations), is just one of the eight pillars of practice - what about the Yamas (moral choices), Niyamas (personal observances), Dharana (the cultivation of inner perception), or Pratyahara (control of the senses)? How can you feel satisfied in your practice when, after a 90-minute Power class, you slammed on the horn and flipped the bird to a driver who accidentally cut you off? 
How to get some satisfaction
In a daily yoga practice, we slowly develop both the strength and the willingness to do what we’ve spent our whole lives avoiding: reside in the physical reality of the present moment. I was catapulted into a daily practice when I signed up for a 30 Day Revolution, which motivated me in a way that I hadn’t been able to do on my own. Since that 30 Days back in 2009, I have never looked back. There is no substitute for the learning that occurred during that Revolution - I guess that’s why it’s called a ‘Revolution’). My illusions were dismantled and the real value of my perseverance became evident. After the 30 day honeymoon was over, I kept at it, even through the messy, boring, unromantic, ordinary ups and downs when there was no one to hold me accountable but me.
Get up off of that mat and live ‘til you feel better
Understanding the connection between practice and the rest of our life means addressing many different concerns. How are you practicing in your relationships - with your spouse, your children, your parents, the people at work? How many resentments do you still hold on to? Who or what triggers anger, contempt, or judgment? To what extent can you say, “I’m sorry,” and really mean it? The answers to questions like these give us the measure of our practice. It doesn’t matter if you were able to balance erect in Vrkasana (Tree Pose), the goal of the practice (on and off our mat) is to find a balanced, present, state of mind and move through the postures (or experiences of life) without swaying that focus. A student who I introduced this concept to recently told me she learned three things about herself after assessing her practice: she was addicted to her thinking; she was attached to her emotions; and she didn’t want to stay in the present moment for more than a few seconds at a time. With this awareness, her focus shifted to address her internal, rather than external practice. Rather than “How am I doing?”, the real questions are: “Where am I still shutting down in fear and self-protection?”; or, “Where do I meet my edge, beyond which I’m not ready to go?”. Practice is about noticing and experiencing these places - seeing our edge (our tendencies, our comfort-zones, and our ‘usual’) and taking a small step beyond it supported by the knowledge that everyone feels fear when they step beyond the illusion of comfort. 
Noticing our edge and trying to meet it also allows us to develop compassion, not just for ourselves but for the whole human drama. Then, with an increasing sense of lightness and curiosity, we can keep moving toward a more open and genuine life.

lifeyogakingston:

Coming back to the mat when nothing’s changed, but everything’s different
On the first day of a four-day yoga retreat, a student went in to see the teacher with whom she’d been studying for many years. Sitting at the teacher’s feet, she asked, “Can you tell me how I’m doing in my practice?” The teacher thought for a minute, then said, “Open your mouth.” The student opened her mouth, and the teacher peered in and said, “OK, now bend your head down.” The student bent her head down, and the teacher looked into her hair, then said, “OK, now open your eyes really wide.” The student opened her eyes, and the teacher glared into them and said, “You’re doing fine.” Then she rang her bell - signalling for the students to leave. The next day, the student returned, quite perplexed by what had happened the day before. “I asked you how I was doing in my practice yesterday,” she said, “and you made me open my mouth, bend my head, and open my eyes. What did all that have to do with my practice?” The teacher bowed her head in thought. Then she said, “You know, you’re not really doing very well in your practice, and the truth is, I am not sure you are ever going to make it.” Again she rang her bell. The students walked out. You can imagine how confused and angry the student felt. The next day she went back, still fuming, and said, “What do you mean, I’m not going to make it in practice? Do you know that I come to yoga classes for an hour every day? Sometimes I come twice a day. I also come to every retreat. I have really deep experiences. What do you mean I’m not going to make it?” The teacher just sat there, apparently thinking. Then she said, “Well, maybe I made a mistake. Perhaps you’re doing pretty well after all.” And, again, she rang her bell. On the last day of the retreat, the student went back to see her teacher, utterly exhausted. She felt distraught and confused, but she was no longer fighting it. She said to the teacher, “I just wanted to know how I was doing in my practice.” This time, the teacher looked at her and with no hesitation, in a very kind voice, said, “If you really want to know how you’re doing in your practice, look at all of your reactions over the last few days. If you really want to know how you’re doing in your practice, just look at your life. If you really want to know how you’re doing in your life, just look at your practice.”

When it all falls apart

Practicing yoga daily centres me in my ‘me-ness’. I practice and my body takes over, my mind alignes. I see clearly and think without trying. Without my daily ritual, I feel cloudy and heavy, like I am never, fully, awake; however, when I find that, off the mat, life has taken an unexpected turn and I get knocked out of practice, coming BACK to my mat can be really difficult. I have this mix of emotions - I know that I’ll feel better when I practice, I’ll re-find my me-ness, yet I stay away. I feel frustrated and guilty for maintaining the drama and unease, yet I stay away. I feel bad for feeling bad. Next, I’ll start eating poorly, sleeping irregularly, and making irrational choices. Where am I? Inevitably, begrudgingly, I will step onto my good ole’ Manduka and, slowly, come back to life. I’ll catch my breath again, my eyes will seem more open, and I’ll think, “What was I thinking? I am never abandoning the practice again”.

Practice makes imperfect

It’s important to have a daily yoga practice because doing so enables you to see thoughts clearly and to reside in your bodily experience. But having deep experiences on your mat is not enough. If you want to know how you’re doing in your practice, examine your life. Your yoga practice in the studio is, after all, just a dress rehearsal for the yoga that you’ll do off the mat. Asanas, or the shapes we move through during, for example, Surya Namaskaras (Sun Salutations), is just one of the eight pillars of practice - what about the Yamas (moral choices), Niyamas (personal observances), Dharana (the cultivation of inner perception), or Pratyahara (control of the senses)? How can you feel satisfied in your practice when, after a 90-minute Power class, you slammed on the horn and flipped the bird to a driver who accidentally cut you off? 

How to get some satisfaction

In a daily yoga practice, we slowly develop both the strength and the willingness to do what we’ve spent our whole lives avoiding: reside in the physical reality of the present moment. I was catapulted into a daily practice when I signed up for a 30 Day Revolution, which motivated me in a way that I hadn’t been able to do on my own. Since that 30 Days back in 2009, I have never looked back. There is no substitute for the learning that occurred during that Revolution - I guess that’s why it’s called a ‘Revolution’). My illusions were dismantled and the real value of my perseverance became evident. After the 30 day honeymoon was over, I kept at it, even through the messy, boring, unromantic, ordinary ups and downs when there was no one to hold me accountable but me.

Get up off of that mat and live ‘til you feel better

Understanding the connection between practice and the rest of our life means addressing many different concerns. How are you practicing in your relationships - with your spouse, your children, your parents, the people at work? How many resentments do you still hold on to? Who or what triggers anger, contempt, or judgment? To what extent can you say, “I’m sorry,” and really mean it? The answers to questions like these give us the measure of our practice. It doesn’t matter if you were able to balance erect in Vrkasana (Tree Pose), the goal of the practice (on and off our mat) is to find a balanced, present, state of mind and move through the postures (or experiences of life) without swaying that focus. A student who I introduced this concept to recently told me she learned three things about herself after assessing her practice: she was addicted to her thinking; she was attached to her emotions; and she didn’t want to stay in the present moment for more than a few seconds at a time. With this awareness, her focus shifted to address her internal, rather than external practice. Rather than “How am I doing?”, the real questions are: “Where am I still shutting down in fear and self-protection?”; or, “Where do I meet my edge, beyond which I’m not ready to go?”. Practice is about noticing and experiencing these places - seeing our edge (our tendencies, our comfort-zones, and our ‘usual’) and taking a small step beyond it supported by the knowledge that everyone feels fear when they step beyond the illusion of comfort. 

Noticing our edge and trying to meet it also allows us to develop compassion, not just for ourselves but for the whole human drama. Then, with an increasing sense of lightness and curiosity, we can keep moving toward a more open and genuine life.

(via veganrunnergirl)


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