Our words are so powerful. The language we use can connect us deeply to ourselves and others. They give us an opportunity to share what is inside. We praise, acknowledge and honor through our words. Just as easily, our words and language can disconnect us from our truth and reality. We can use them to hide what is inside. Most of us speak without considering that our words carry the beliefs we hold inside of us. So often, consciously or unconsciously, they disconnect us from ourselves and the world.

On our yoga mat we take ourselves to the place in the poem. Without words, what is inside is expressed in a new way expressed as a form of art. Our truth shines out, rises up and lives in the world. It is felt and experienced by us – truly an emergence of awe. We leave feeling connected, whole. This is often forgotten by the time we get to our phone or in the next conversation. We lose our ability to speak to the wholeness we have experienced. In that space we are in a space of disconnect and out of our bodies. How many times have we spoken from that place, or continue to speak from that place – using words to fill space, to move away from fear, to hide what is inside, to not feel. Speaking from this place keeps things the same, keeps our roles and behaviors, however harming, the same.

I recently lost my ability to speak to the whole, and had an opportunity to examine my motives around my speech. I found myself challenged to tell my truth, to share it in the world. I minced words, fluffed things up and beat around the bush. I habitually fall into these pattern with my words. Educated away from telling the truth, speaking my truth, I protect and guard with my words. It creates vagueness, a grey area where interpretation and assumptions become commonplace. I was conscious of the fear to write my truth, to stand in my truth. The words I wrote, my vagueness, created a deep disconnect.
My guarded and protected words seemed kinder on the surface, but they created no foundation of truth on which to stand or on which to build. They simply disconnected me from what was real; they were based on fears and emotional dependence. All of that was covered with too many words – surface words to fill the space of my discomfort, to keep my fear hidden, to keep me stuck. When it came right down to it, one simple sentence was all that was needed. No fillers, no protection, just simple truth.

I felt a relief well up and space open the minute that truth was out. The fear was still there, but moving forward through that truth opened me on an even deeper truth. Underneath the truth was an attachment – an attachment to the hope that the situation would be or was different. That was the truth I feared looking at. As I opened that space, that truth rose up and was spoken in a primordial language.

As we ground and root and stay deep within ourselves, we begin to feel emotions, feelings and recognize truth. In this sometimes foreign place, in our body, we can begin to trust and listen to the wisdom that is within. We will know when it is time to speak and when it is time to listen; we will know when it is time to say less. That truth, bubbling up from deep inside creates a space of incredible freedom. It is our deepest knowledge and truest expression. When we find the courage to live in the space that is elemental and awe inspiriting, we can trust that our words will come from a place of love. It will stem from our place in the universe, it will naturally rise up and emerge through us, it will be the song of our life.
In seeking this expression of our truth, we can examine what we are communicating, how we are communicating, and our motives behind what we are saying. In returning to our primordial language, as we leave out mat, we can ask ourselves: Are our words leading us to wisdom and peace? Are the emanating the truth that we discovered on our mats? Is it a simple, courageous expression of my truth?

In that courageous space, in celebration of your self, inhale, on an exhale allow the praise, song and story within you to be eminently present in the world. Allow the world to receive the wholeness of you!

Gratitude is not something to be forced or coerced.  It is a natural rising up from your center when you feel connected, when you know you are supported.  Those very things are what bring it about during the holidays – connecting, feeling loved, giving, sharing.  Gratitude does not mean smiling and being happy all the time.  It does mean being content.  Content not just when all is well, but even when all is not well.  Gratitude which arises from our heart allows us to know that, no matter what, we are connected, we are loved.

Gratitude becomes distant when we are in expectation or not honoring our feelings.  In that same way, our expectations wrap us, constrict us, keep us taped up, held tightly, locked up. A deeper look allows us to see that gratitude may be wrapped in our fear, sadness, loneliness, disappointment, resentment.  Our gratitude is like the gift that is wrapped again and again in the larger box, until you get to the small box. Debra Adele, in the Yamas and the Niyamas, says that the boxes hold “our experience, our conditioning, our belief systems.”  That wrapping is how we identify ourselves; that wrapping is what we believe to be true; that wrapping is our preferences and dislikes, our fears.  As we begin unwrapping we start the journey
toward our center, our heart.

To bring our heartfelt gratitude to the surface, we begin unwrapping what is at the surface, the first gift.  Sometimes the mere thought of unwrapping brings excitement to begin.  Many times this excitement quickly turns to exasperation realizing all that we need to move through to reach the center, to get to the gift at the end.  We might become impatient. Our mind will say “oh forget it”, “this is ridiculous and too much work”. Sometimes there is a lot of tape and the paper does not come off neatly, but rather in little pieces – it is messy!

Our unwrapping, no matter how messy, how tedious, how much there is to uncover, leads us to our center. Once unwrapped we find that true gratitude is a cultivation of spirit. It arises naturally at the heart space. It is in our open heartedness that we find connection, we find love. That seemingly small gift that when unwrapped, unlocks the abundance, the flow of peace and deep heartfelt gratitude!

The gift, my friends, is in the messiness, in all of our experiences. We must, though, look at each gift individually, each expectation, each belief, to see what it offers us.  As we receive that gift, that learning experience, that opening, we gently move to the next. We continue until we find ourselves at our center, until we feel a sense of stillness and peace. Then life happens, fear creeps in, resentment arises and we begin the unwrapping again. A beautiful circle.

The gifts are always there, leading us to a gratitude that is lasting, sustaining.  Let’s all pick up our gifts and beginning the unwrapping together.

Being present for my father in his last days was a gift in my life.  As I moved through the deep waves of emotion, I felt challenged on many levels.  To be present and centered through this experience was only possible through the support of the community. There were many cards, flowers, smiles, and hugs.  I received countless messages sent through e-mail, text and phone;  words spoken at exactly the right moment.  I felt, and continue to feel, enveloped by love through the experience.  As I reflected on that support, these words arose – connection, service, love.

I have a new understanding of connection, of things being one, of the universe within us. There is no separation, no need for touch, or even eyes to meet.  You can take a breath, feel it in your being, sense the light that vibrates through you. I felt that light touch other rays, intensify, enliven, vibrate, and illuminate his death, me, you.

There is an innate desire to see beyond your limited self, it arises naturally through that connection.  As we see into this infinite vision, as I saw this infinite vision,  compassion spreads and our natural response is to see how we can be of service to our fellow man, to the earth that supports us.  I felt, in a new way, deeper than ever, the more we look beyond ourselves the wider our heart expands, the deeper our connection to each other, deeper our connection to the universe – within and without.

As our hearts expand we feel love.  We know love.  A love beyond expectations.  A love fully encompassing unity.  A love pure and infinite.  A love that supports and carries, embraces, widens – and is the truth that connects us all.  A love that is us.

With deep, deep gratitude . . .

Peace,

Carrie

The first question gave me an opportunity to exam my teaching.  My hope is to provide a space for you to be present as you are practicing.  My intention when teaching is to help you see, feel and experience your highest potential; to allow you to explore a posture further than you believe you can.  From there you may see when you are pushing too hard or holding yourself back from experiencing your fullest potential.  Hopefully, through this intention you will find a space to take your new connection, insight, awareness off your mat and into your every day life.  For some, this may appear like goals on our mat.  Many times goals and intention seem one in the same.  Our challenge, on the mat, is to differentiate between the two.   My challenge as a teacher is guiding you to embrace those concepts and come to your own understanding.

A key difference between a goal and an intention is outcome – a goal is focused toward a specific outcome; an intention has no future outcome.  When we set a goal we plan it, apply discipline, and work hard at achieving the goal.  In a goal our vision is narrowed, limited toward the future, the accomplishment of the task, the change we desire. All our focus and energy is directed toward the goal.

In setting an intention we create a path and put ourselves on that path.  Each moment on the path presents an opportunity for watching our progress, the ebb and flow, the possibilities and potential.  The path may lead us to a place beyond our imagination, a place we could not see or experience through setting a goal.

We live in a world that is very goal oriented, very focused on outcomes.  Often goals are directed by the outside world – what others think, what others want for us. Many times goals lead us to a place of dissatisfaction.  We believe when we reach the goal we will achieve the happiness and peace we seek.  This narrow view limits our ability to stay in the moment and to be in the process of living.  That definition may create disconnect when we come to our mat.

On our mat, a goal creates a fixed idea of what our poses will look like, feel like, what the experience will be.  This goal in itself may limit our practice.  For example, if we have a goal to master crow and in today’s practice and our feet do not get off the floor, the disappointment may prevent us from experiencing the openness, the awareness, the whole process practicing crow provided.  A limited vision such as that, may keep us from our highest good, and prevent us from a full experience of our practice. It further limits how that experience expands the next asana, the transition.  As well it may prevent us from practicing crow.

An intention on our mat would be to practice crow but bring forth an opening to be wherever we are today.  For some, in that practice, crow with feet up.  For others, it would be bringing their weight further forward with feet still on the ground.  A key to intention is letting go, detaching from the outcome.  Judith Lasiter says that to be detached is to “stand in the middle of the marketplace, with all its confusion and noise, and to remain present to yourself and to all that is.”  We stand on our mat, with all the confusion and noise within, and become present to where our practice leads us.  Through a discovery within the experience of practicing crow, there may be a deeper expansion through the next pose, the next transition.  Our practice, that day, as well as each subsequent pose would also hold that possibility. In order to create the space of intention on our mat, we can envision a new understanding of goals.

This new vision of goals can allow a freedom to bring them to our mat, and a widened vision of goals off the mat.  It is that openness, that flexibility, that is the connection of goals and intentions.  To ground a goal in intention, a key question to ask is, as Jack Kornfield says, ask yourself “is it a path with heart.”  There a space is created to look at what matters to you, what matters to your heart.  The freedom here is a release from being defined by our achievements.  A place to be present with all that is.  We bring to our mat our “goal” to do crow, grounded in intention, to be in the process of how we will get there, always open to the experience.  Grounding our goals in intention creates a more fluid, dynamic space.   A space to honor your divine nature.  A space for joy to live.  A goal grounded in intention connects our inner and outer worlds.

It may appear when I clap for you, cheer for you, tell you great job, that I am leading you toward a specific outcome, a goal.  My encouragement arises from watching you in the process, rather than the end result.  The encouragement is in observing your willingness to see and realize your potential, to allow you to experience yourself beyond your finite mind.  This process is one of receiving grace.  Anne Lamott says “grace means you’re in a different universe from where you had been stuck, when you had absolutely no way to get there on your own.”  You let go, open and allow grace to flow through you.  Your willingness to practice crow without an expectation move you through fear of the pose.  Your openness and willingness lead you there – your practice leads you into the possibilities of your heart.  When you experience that I have to cheer.

So my goal for all of us is to meet on our mats, root in our own intentions, and allow that to guide us all toward our heart’s path.  From this new space, may you continually be led on the path of greater knowing of who you are at your center, of rising to meet every moment with openness and awareness and to find a space where life flows through you.

Peace,

Carrie

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

- Anais Nin

I love Spring!  The budding, watching the grass green, the warmth of the sun, everything coming back to life.  There is incredibly vibrant energy to be embraced.  As we embrace that energy, rising from the dead of winter, we want to spring forth and blossom.  Seeds have been planted, rooting has taken place, through the introspection of winter, the drawing inward.  We long to emerge with newness. To bring light to all that has been growing inside, our winter covering needs to be shed.  Often the anticipation and anxiousness to move forward quickly leaves us keeping our new beginnings in the dark, shelved for later exploration.  In the anxiousness of our transition, our quick movement forward, we may resist our own budding.

Consider this year a slower transition in to the new season – giving yourself time, space, acknowledgment and release for all that winter cultivated within you.

In your slow transition take time to watch spring -   watching the patience of the bulbs, observing the ease of the blossoming.  Take a look inside and see what you truly need to bring forth the newness in you.  Gently nurture the seeds, the buds, the growth inside of you. Just as you trust your breath on your yoga mat to move you through the transition of the poses, trust your breath to move you through the fluidity of this season.

As you cultivate all that is beginning in you, clear out your mind, body and spirit.  Create a space for release, a ritual – letting go of all that no longer serves you – beliefs, people, things, expectations.  Weed out everything that gets in the way of your growth.  Through this release honor yourself by acknowledging your gifts, your growth, your mistakes, your introspection, your beauty, your imperfections, your progress.

In this slower transition, you may find that emerging comes naturally.  That there is more space for love, joy and peace!  In that space, sit back and watch yourself blossom into the amazing being you are!   Peace, Carrie

Internal inversion

As January comes to an end, and February rolls in, we have an  opportunity to re-evaluate our resolutions we set for ourselves at the start of the New Year.  So often the New Year brings high hopes of new possibility.  Usually our resolutions entail improving ourselves.  We may start off with a bang – energy flowing, excitement in the air – as we reach for these goals.

By mid-month, many of us find ourselves falling short of those high hopes.   By February they are long forgotten, and we decide to throw away all those long held opportunities for opening. New Year’s day being a distant memory, we believe we have dismissed our resolutions.  The resolution may be dismissed, but the commitment to ourselves remains.  We bury these un-met commitments deep inside.  They create an internal inversion -  filled with disappointment, judgment and criticism, judging ourselves for not following through, for failing to complete what we set out to do.  This inversion creates a heaviness in our being.  As we all know, that heaviness closes off any new possibility we hoped to open; it clouds our vision.  Our energy is constricted, our creativity blocked, and our light dims.

In this new month, and cleared sky, rather than a complete dismissal of your resolutions, consider a re-evaluation.  Bring your resolutions back to the surface, to your mat, to your practice.  Allow yourself to open to the deep intention of setting that resolution, the motive behind it.  Often we set resolutions or goals based on what other’s want for us, what we are hearing from the world, what we think we should do.  Often those resolutions are not connected to our heart and in that space all of us are likely to not follow through; in that space there is no connection to create new possibilities.

If you find your resolution reasonates from your heart, but you have not followed through, consider an adjustment of the resolution.   Taking this to your mat you can begin by feeling the resolution in the physical body and spreading it out from there.  There you can really feel your resolution – observe it, sit with it, breathe through it.  See how you feel with the resolution, rather than looking at how the resolution feels.   As you allow your resolution to move through you, you may notice small changes toward this new possibility, toward your heart’s desire. You may notice your actions matching your resolution.  Your resolution may soon become a daily commitment, a daily intention. As we watch our internal inversion lift, we open to new ways of living authentically, new ways of living from our heart.

When the inversion begins to cloud that vision, we start again. . .

Peace,

Carrie

FALL OFFERING

I think of trees

Fall approaches, are they ready?

Do they know?  Can you ever

be prepared

for impermenance?

Leaves turn, clouds cover, peace comes.

They stand

with such grace

ready and willing.

Glistening with the

newness of color

brilliant red

shimmering gold

breathtaking orange

all shades in between.

Eyes look in

wonder

and tears shed

like leaves.

So brave, they change in front

of everyone.

No holding back!

We would have the same courage

if we knew we would shine as they do,

if we knew we would show that beauty.

Can we, though,

share their courage,

their grace

to shed that beauty and stand

bare and vulnerable?

Would you try to hide?

Or can you root and

ground and

open to your emptiness?

Even welcome it?

Can you ever

be prepared

for impermenance?

Maybe with an open heart.

Peace from my heart to yours,

Carrie

The Journey

Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again

Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.

Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens

so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

small, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out

someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.

You are not leaving
you are arriving.

- David Whyte

In January I wrote the words of this poem on a blank piece of white paper, folded it neatly into a card, and placed it inconspicuously in my son’s backpack.  He was embarking on his journey to the other side of the world – his destinations were uncertain, his walking forward inevitable, his peace with the journey certain.

My offering of the poem was an invitation for him to greet everyday arriving. I wanted myself to do the same and I believed in that space my peace was certain. However, as the first day turned into the first week, I began to realize the extent that I was not at peace. His “arriving” quickly changed to his “leaving”.  I found myself in a place longing for what had been.  My grasp so tight, my suffering inevitable, my peace so distant.

With my peace so distant, so uncertain, David Whyte’s profound words began to come alive for me – this was my arriving, my journey.  From this space I began to deepen my yoga practice.  I observed the way that the eight limbs of yoga were expanding into my life by allowing me this opportunity to re-discover my true nature, to be at peace with me, to be at peace with the world, to be at peace with Tony’s arriving.  I began looking:   for the place my discomfort stemmed, what I was grasping, where I was in denial and disconnected from source.  My looking inward through pratyahara, allowed me to move toward silence and listen.  As introspection deepened through dharana my my vision cleared.

This new awareness allowed for deep shifts to take place, shifts where I could begin recognizing my fears, my misperceptions, my unreal beliefs. Those ranged from wanting our relationship to remain the same, to a space of waiting, being “on hold” until he returned.  The next layer held even deeper fears – fears of losing him, losing our relationship, losing my identity. As uncomfortable as all of this was to face, my practice brought me to a space where I could be content with feeling and experiencing this darkness.  An even deeper contentment arose as I took that experience off the mat and began writing about it, talking about it.  Little by slowly my  view of this became one without the constant pull of my expectations and fears.  In that space, I experienced a release as I allowed myself to feel what was beyond the fear – sadness, anger, longing, loneliness.  I was then free to experience how much I missed our daily contact. This softening opened my heart to experience the deep, amazing love that I feel for him, the pride I felt for his adventurous spirit, the profound connection our hearts hold – a connection beyond miles and oceans.

I would love to say that peace was certain at each stage, but that would not be true.  What I can say is that I discovered through my journey into the dark, into the ashes, that beautiful wedge of freedom in my own heart.  What I can say is that I re-discovered the line already written inside me – in the journey of arriving peace is certain.

I am very grateful for Tony whose courage and strength to begin his journey, allowed me to begin this new phase of my journey, my arriving – every day arriving.

I am very grateful for Tony whose courage and strength to begin his journey, allowed me to begin this new phase of my journey, my arriving – every day arriving.