Teaching yoga isn’t really about teaching poses. It’s about teaching curiosity.
Bones, Breath, and Beginning Again
In movement there is poetry. There is impulse and order and disorder. And within it, a deep remembering: that we are not held together by sheer effort alone. That balance, ease, and rhythm are not ideals, but birthrights. The bones know. The breath knows. And when we trust that, even in chaos—we move with more grace. We rest into a structure that doesn’t collapse. We are held.
The Land, The Practice, and The Teacher Within
Stepping into Chaos: The Call to Witness
Patient Remembering
Solitude is one thing. Loneliness is quite another. I can't speak for anyone else, but for me, contemplative practices that happen in community can make it easier to remember all kinds of things. Such as how the inquiry into truth (yoga) can seem to take infinite patience, how everyone else is also finding their way, and why good humor can save your life while it's busy coming true.
Anchoring to Essence: Ditching Complexity
Cilantro, Wile E Coyote, and Yoga
Our commitment to, and sense of urgency about, knowing nothing but the truth seems to amplify with time. Once we have more than a few decades of grownup life under our belt, our tolerance for fanciful thinking or concepts that feel contrived putter out. My recent personal experience is that thirst for the unvarnished truth gets magnified when faced with unexpected loss and its onerous sidekick, grief. When the stakes feel high and our hearts are tender, our appetite for extravagant leaps of faith raw peters out
