Knit Tightly, Hold Lightly

by Stephanie F. Earls 

SFE 2017

There is an invisible web woven in groups, in yoga, in life. From time to time the classes I’ve taught have lost members to life change/flow or injury/healing or birth/death. Likewise, I’ve been a student in groups that have resolved or classes with teachers who’ve retired or moved. I've also had to make my own changes as life has redirected me. Whether by our own choice or by causes beyond us, long or short term, these changes force a shift that reshapes our many webs; taking us out of some and into others. In yoga we are guided to hold dear the things that matter while not suffocating ourselves or others with our hold. Yoga philosophy names this notion of non-attachment aparigraha.  It can manifest physically, such as when we prep for headstand and weave our fingers tightly at the webbing while we hold our fingers lightly over our hands. In both the physical and the philosophical, as the yogis say: knit tightly, hold lightly. 

Recently, after receiving word of the passing of one of our beloved studio regulars, my Tuesday night class circled around. In our own ways we honored her with our voices and blessed her in our hearts and minds. It was a spontaneous and subtle emanation which I hope she could hear and feel from where she is. She held a part of the web at our studio.  As the weeks pass we still feel her light and glow and we miss her in the place she held. Processing her loss brought to the forefront for me, how each of you, each of us, present and past/passed hold a dear place in our web. The echo you create calls forth gratitude in your void and in your presence. You matter.

It’s for each of us to say whether the concept of non-attachment is physically/psychically/emotionally easy or challenging in practice. The opportunity to practice is abundant as things change. Beyond the aforementioned student, life lately has shifted for so many people in my classes and communities: several loved ones lost, dear ones moved away, hearts and minds changed, schedules anew. The fall has been full of births and deaths in literal and figurative ways. We practice: knit tightly, hold lightly. 

We welcome new arrivals to our classes/lives/hearts and concurrently for those who have left, feel it when you’re gone. Our groups feel the shifts because the corners of our webs that each individual holds include the intention, sometimes unspoken, that we choose to practice together. Regardless of how much or little we “actually know” about each other through talk or information, we feel and know each other deeply because we show up with a gentle willingness to move our bodies, be aware of our breath and practice feeling alive. If you are not here now the resonance of your spirit keeps your spot(s) humming. At the studio, each class knits tightly a weave all its own, a uniquely beautiful collection of people, insight and healing. We are here for each other, each of us teachers and each of us students. 

Interwoven, we know and hold each other while we do our soul work alone, together. Collectively we agree to come to practice, to be vulnerable in the same space, and to trust. As individual as our work may feel, in a yoga class (in life) we weave this web of safety with each other. Even for the most introverted and private of us (so many yogis are), when we come together and move through our breath and our body, our individual and collective intentions weave the invisible web of knowingness through each of us. It becomes our strength, a source of nourishment and reprieve. We hold each other and bring each other along, some coming in and some going out, in practice, with diligence and repetition, knitting tightly, holding lightly. 

Let it Be: a Bit on Yin Yoga

by Stephanie F. Earls

Yin yoga is a phrase that describes an approach to Hatha yoga postures that is slower, less muscular and more meditative. It is a chance to practice being still within the parameters of 3-5 minute stays in postures to promote joint health.  The physical movements help create space in the body so that being still becomes easier. The mental/emotional component promotes ease in the heart and mind. In time.

I could write a book (and many have) about all there is to yin. Today’s blog is about the 

approach or mindset of yin yoga which is, in a word, receptivity.  Nicknamed “the quiet practice”, I think of yin yoga as a chance to, as The Beatles sang, “let it be”. In setting an intention of receptivity, we cultivate a sense of openness to ourselves and our experience as we sit still and listen. Sometimes easier said than done.

Central Mass Yoga sits conveniently on a busy road. Sometimes the quiet space of the studio is accented by roaring 18 wheelers and revving Harleys outside studio A in the front of the building, and a garbage truck that comes to empty the dumpster outside studio C in the back of the building.

At 9:30 on Monday mornings, yin yoga happens in studio C.  Once class begins, quiet descends and is decorated in summer months by chirping birds, a humming fan or distant rooster. We center our minds and settle our bodies, becoming still to take a look at what’s inside ourselves and whether it’s one of those days when we find peace of mind or a mind in pieces, a whole heart or a hole in the heart.  It all seems pretty serene.  And then the garbage truck shows up.

Typically the truck rumbles in before 10:00 am but these last couple of weeks have been exceptionally quiet through the first half of class, windows open and a sweet breeze. I anticipate the truck’s arrival, knowing I’ll have to raise my voice and hoping it’s not enough distraction to discourage yogis from returning to class the next week. When the truck was late in recent weeks I hoped it was final reprieve. Its absence kept things simple for me, maybe simpler for the yogis too.  But by the quietest closing moments of class, the truck banged in, crashed around while it unloaded the dumpster and took the trash away.

Yin yoga is one way to unplug and quiet the constant whirr, just like reading a book or having a cup of tea or taking a nap. Like any moment of quiet, as we become still we also become astutely aware of the slightest rumble: an ache in the body, a worried thought, a harsh self judgement…or on the other side, an elated emotion or pleasurable sensation.  The garbage truck’s weekly showing is the perfect metaphor for the experience of quieting down to listen to ourselves. Inevitably, our peace is jostled by something disruptive and unexpected. Or, in anticipation of the unexpected, maybe to the point of needless worry, it never comes and we’ve spent those quiet moments bracing for the bang. 

On the outside at the studio it’s rumbling garbage trucks, clanging dumpsters or revving motorcycles. Internally it might be garbage thoughts, clanging emotions or stale memories. Whether we consider them positive or negative, pleasurable or painful, the experiences that come up when we get quiet are part of the process while we steady our roots in the foundation of our inner truth. Ripples of doubt and delight, gratitude and grievance, whether they be physical, emotional or mental are not markers of success or failure when we practice peace of mind and self care. They are just ebbs and flows in the tides of our experience. We drop the anchor when we remember that sitting with ourselves need not be about denying any of the garbage (or grandeur) that surfaces and likewise not riding away with the garbage truck. We drop our anchor when we see the garbage truck come, do its thing and go, knowing it will be temporary. 

In yin yoga the practice moves slow. We linger in the poses to create space in the body, while we give ourselves time in mind and heart to practice and reaffirm that what comes up is simply part of being a person.  We listen to ourselves the way we would listen to a good friend who needs our attention: with an open ear, soft eyes and tender heart.  We know each pose (and the thoughts and feelings with it) will last a few minutes but like the truck, will come and go.

With slow, receptive practice we have the chance to break free of the dumpster collections in the corners of our mind, heart and body. Some of that garbage clears out quickly. Some we practice with for decades. We try to remember that everything in the dumpster was at one point nourishing (yummy or useful or helpful).  The thoughts, feelings and sensations circulating have served us and will continue to until it’s time for them to go. Allowing things to be as they are, we strengthen our ability to open a path so that what needs to come in can come in, and what needs to go out can go out without our gripping or pushing or forcing. 

We can use the practice to handle anything that clutters the scene while we root to our inner truth. With awareness we can choose to shift focus to where we want it to be. When our inner voice sounds muffled under rubble, when we are not sure where we want our focus to be, the practice is here without pretense, without expectation, providing a structure to anchor ourselves in. And when we hear our inner truth again, we can steady ourselves regardless of the grievances or gratitudes at hand. We can settle roots in our truth so that no matter how many garbage thoughts or garbage trucks come roaring by, no matter how many motorcycles of the mind startle us, we know our way back to that healthy space where we are still and able to hear ourselves. In that fold rests our freedom, not a finish line to cross, but a path to walk or rumble along. 

Discovery

for all our loves, lost too soon
by Stephanie F. Earls

you(2)

shone in the quiet, 

dark days 

a solstice storm

on the way in

and on the way out

union and void

invisible evidence

in your wake

binary stars 

(y)our vesicas

a paradox of infinity 

too far to touch

yet warm in heart

death and life hold hands

longing is (l)onl(e)y

quenched with hope

so you are written

while slipping or setting (i’m not sure which)

into distant sky

eyes and heart too spellbound

to write you sooner

in the midst of

fire and light

storm and sea

clarity and confusion

truth

once seen by naked eye

now a pulse of memory and potential

part of

every sun, every moon

i knew the last (first) time i saw you 

would be the last time i saw you

i knew i would miss you 

even before you knew you were gone

**

oh starlights, how to deliver

tender vulnerability?

how to keep it protected

as it births?

You Carry Your Magic Inside

By Stephanie F. Earls

Browse the internet, social media or certain yoga publications and you might get the impression that a mastered practice requires specific physical ability or certain clothes, beads or candles. You might think you have not gotten “there” unless you study with a revered teacher, practice hours a day or can do a challenging pose. But something yogis, especially teachers, come up against is how to show yoga without giving the impression that the show is the thing. The truth of yoga can not be shown, it must be experienced.  What we show (even this blog in words and picture) is a metaphor that attempts to hint at the truth that yoga points us to, the truth that is in us. Yoga and healing are not about the props or crystals or candles or clothes. Beautiful symbols, inspiring icons and our teachers can help us focus and enrich our surroundings or they can become crutches in the pursuit of self care and self realization. One of my intentions as a teacher is to equip students with the ability to free themselves by discerning between externals that support the journey inward and externals that distract or create dependence. I am in it (this work) to share ideas and ways to practice that have freed and empowered me. I teach to help others learn to teach (and free) themselves.

sfe 2015

Like an invisible turtle shell, yoga provides safe refuge from the pitfalls of life: self doubt, worry, anxiety, aggravation, illness, addiction, grief.…and like invisible wings, yoga lifts us to the joys of life: peace of mind, health in body, love in heart.  The philosophy and physicality of the practice can be used anywhere whether or not the right teacher or accessory is there, whether or not you can form a pose, because rather than showing a way out, yoga shows a way in… where the magic is.

It was a blessing that I found yoga when I did, almost two decades ago suffering from Crohn’s disease. I was too sick to make it through a class so I did my yoga at home in bits and pieces, in pjs, morning or night; in gas station bathrooms or in doctors’ offices. I did what I could, where I could, to survive moment to moment. The moments of opportunity to practice were small and there was no time to get everything right. On occasion I had my mat, or some quiet or could light a candle or play soothing music. But usually, day to day, I needed a safety net QUICK; noise all around, no time for beautiful trimmings or teachers or cute yoga outfits. I was forced by illness to strip the practice down to the essential: simple stretches, conscious breath, accessible meditation.  

If I had waited for the perfect ambiance I’d still be sick. I trained myself to heal and to access healing in the most raw and un-accessorized way possible, with pure intention and energy.  I trained myself to practice anywhere, anytime, anyway because I wanted to feel better and had agreed with myself to pursue health even if everything was not in its place, even if it didn’t look good. I was sick, it didn’t look good! Had smart phones or social media been around, snapshots of my practice would have been a real downer from the outside. But from the inside it was real and uplifting! AND it was liberating because the perfect situation was not required.  The practice as I knew it was (and is) portable. At the end of the day it was just me and my body, my pain, my comfort and eventually my healing.  I had found the internal tools and a foolproof, self sustaining way to access those tools and healing anytime so I could feel better, so I could live. The ability to tap into myself anytime/ anyway/ anywhere with or without stuff is one of the best gifts I’ve learned from practicing.

I share the tools I’ve learned and cultivated so that those who study with me will learn to create an entry into their own personal wellspring of internal source. For me it came through a health struggle, but that does not need to be the case. A simple sense of curiosity and desire to give self care is enough to enrich your path inward.  Like any path we come to with an open heart, we get to decide if we fall into its trappings or float with its wings.

So while ideally we establish a routine in practice and cultivate steadiness we hold close the understanding that the heart of the practice is with us no matter where we are and even if the routine is upended. We cultivate the care to maintain that practice even if the accessories drop away or we come up against a physical limitation. If you think you NEED a mat or a cushion or a candle to do yoga I am here to encourage you to liberate yourself. If you feel your practice won't be just right without your favorite spot in the room or with your preferred teacher or at the right time of day, I encourage you to do it anyway and liberate your practice. If it creates beauty and love to wear your favorite mala beads so be it, but on the day you forget them at home, rest in the knowingness that you can harness your meditation and your healing even without them. The love and the routine that is symbolized by your accessories floats with you like magic. It is your eternal and internal light and authenticity.  Empower yourself to lighten up. Return, repeat, refine and if you want to really master your practice remember it’s not about being able to stand on one hand or put your leg behind your head. It is not about looking perfect in the right yoga pants.  Instead, welcome the chances to shed the extra. Rather than waiting for that class at the end of the day, fold forward in your chair, belly on thighs, let your head hang and feel stress flow off your body. Stand up and reach for the sky when you feel confined. Stand your ground when you’re up and rest easy when you’re down. It’s not rocket science. It’s common sense magic. It is available to you anytime, anywhere.  All that matters is the fact that you can pull your practice from inside. All that matters is that little by little you practice stepping into your independence. Draw upon what you have learned or read or practiced with teachers and prioritize the voice within. Listen to your body and give it care. This is your healing path. This is your personal journey. You carry your magic inside you.

If you are reading this blog upon its release, there is still time to register for 8 Limbs in 8 Weeks, my 8 week course of yoga study beginning March 6th. We will explore the bones of yoga and cultivate a more nuanced sense of self exploration.  Find out more and register under the workshops tab at 

Central Mass Yoga or email me at SE.BreatheHere@gmail.com.