Confessions of a Yoga Teacher
#3 Resting within yourself and learning, "little by little, one travels far".
The Coast Path Coddiwomple continues…
“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no telling where you might be swept off to.”
J.R.R. Tolkien
Heather and Gorse
Mother nature was revelling in the glorious abundance of late summer, and all along the path she had tenderly placed little offerings of delight. The last of the wild blueberries and the first of the elderberries and blackberries waited patiently to be picked and enjoyed.
We walked and munched happily, pausing often to catch our breath, and shifting under the new discomfort of our packs. The aliveness of the rugged landscape of Exmoor matched the fizzing feeling in our hearts. In this great wild expansiveness our minds could begin their unwinding. With the warm salty sea air kissing our cheeks and rippling through our hair, we took in the contrasting beauty of the pillowy purple heather, yolk yellow gorse and vast turquoise ocean.
And although the beginning of the SWCP is not known for breaking one in gently, life had worked its magic, and scatterings of woodland meant that many of our ascents, on this day at least, were done in the cool of the shade.
As we squeezed through yet another gate (it turns out most gates along the path have not been built to accommodate tortoise shaped humans carrying overly large packs) the Exmoor ponies swished their tales in greeting, and we both thought that it surely can’t be much further until we reached the tea room.
Cake at the best of times has been known to be a reliable motivator and mood enhancer on great adventures, and this adventure would prove no different. In fact, both of us would become quite the connoisseurs of cake, and cream teas of course, having never consistently eaten quite so much, quite so often, in our entire lives.
As we turned the corner towards the aforementioned tearoom, it was with deepest disappointment we read, scrawled on a blackboard, “closed on Mondays”. And in a single moment, everything we have been walking towards, everything we had been dreaming of in the last few exhaustingly beautiful hours disappeared from under our noses.
“Closed Mondays” - this would be the first of a series of unfortunate synchronicities in which, regardless of which day of the week we were passing, the particular cafe we had in mind was almost always closed on that particular day.
So through chuckles of slightly hysterical laughter we plodded over to the adjacent stream, collapsed down onto the grass, threw off our shoes and dipped our toes in the cool, clear water. All the while, Gus happily splashed and waded up and down the stream as we refuelled on a handful of nuts and shared a nibble of one of Sarah’s precious chocolate flapjacks she had kindly baked and gifted us for our journey. Resting in the knowing that “little by little, one travels far.” - J.R.R. Tolkien
Confessions of a yoga teacher - very early on a Thursday morning
I haven’t practised yoga for five months. The first three of which were a busy mix of saying goodbye to the studio and embracing the new challenge of walking the SWCP. And yes, of course I know it would have been VERY helpful to slowly move and stretch my achy body at the end of each day’s walking, and to incorporate yoga as part of my recovery, but I didn’t.
On my return home at the end of October I tried once and gave up. My knees were so sore I had to comically hobble down steps one at a time. I couldn’t sit cross legged comfortably on the mat. I couldn't lunge as the pressure was too much on my tender knees. I had developed metatarsalgia (inflammation) on the bottom of my left foot meaning it was painful to walk or stand, especially barefoot. Lifting my arms above my head in a sun salutation made me feel a little queasy as my neck and shoulder muscles were so tight from carrying the heavy pack.
And underlying all of this, over the past year my body shape has changed, parts of me are softer and curvier than they once were. A new shape means poses feel different, and for now, often less comfortable. It was (still is a bit) new and hard not feeling comfy in my body.
But there are gifts to be unearthed here. I have a new found deep, deep, appreciation for every single one of you that ever showed up to class feeling the same notes of awkward discomfort. And as a teacher, I am developing a new understanding of how different bodies feel in different poses, and I trust this will mean I can be of more support to a greater spectrum of bodies in all their delightful diversity.
AND yesterday and today I found my way back onto the mat. It wasn’t pretty, but it was kind, explorative and gentle - it was good. After catching up on the weekend with a friend, and both sharing that we are feeling stagnant and stuck, we agreed to go for regular early morning walks together. As hard as it is waking up bleary eyed at 5 am in the cold and dark, the beauty of glittering frosty roads, dark blue starry skies, cold reviving air and friendly company have worked their magic - it was on returning home, after each walk this week, that I heard the beckoning whisper of my mat.
I feel like I’m starting to find a part of myself I had lost for a while, and I’m glad she’s back.
Resting within yourself
The past couple of weeks I’ve talked about radiating heart, and we know now there’s power in regenerative emotions. But what about the times when activating a positive emotion can feel like too big a leap from where we find ourselves? It’s a big and somewhat tricky jump from anger to compassion or despair to joy.
There is a practice we can try in the moments we find ourselves drowning, something that meets us where we are.
As you start your Heart Focused Breathing, instead of activating a positive feeling, you can notice what is already there, without judgement. As you notice what is arising for you, begin to breathe in a more neutral feeling such as a sense of ease.
This more neutral place is not usually something we have to work hard for, or hold on to, it is something we can rest back in. A sense of coming back to yourself, resting within yourself. Sometimes you have to rest a little while in neutral in order to get to renewing positive emotions.
As we start to find a balanced state of coherence, and our thoughts and emotions begin to slow down and stabilise, we can be more receptive to our external world and choose how we react. We can also start to listen to the information our emotions contain without letting them run away with us.
HeartMath’s Inner-Ease Technique
Below is an audio recording incase you’d prefer to listen as you practice.
Step 1: Focus your attention in the area of your heart. Imagine your breath flowing in and out of your heart or chest area, breathing a little slower and deeper than usual.
Suggestion: Inhale 5 seconds, exhale 5 seconds (or whatever rhythm is comfortable)
Breathing through your heart area has been proved to help create coherent wave patterns in your heart rhythms, which helps restore ease and balances you mentally and emotionally.
Step 2: With each breath, draw in the feeling of inner ease to balance your mental and emotional energy.
Imagine what ease might feel like.
Ease is a state ‘active calm’, different from a state of relaxation - it’sbeing able to respond quickly while remaining calm and composed on the inside.
Step 3: Set a meaningful intent to anchor the feeling of inner ease as you engage in your projects, challenges or daily intentions.
Anchoring the feeling of ease is to make a conscious choice to reinforce or remember the internal feeling of it. Setting the intent helps you go back to the feeling when you need it, anytime, anyplace.
Inner Ease Quick Steps
Once you get the knack, you can use these simple quick steps to prompt you:
Heart Focused Breathing
Draw in the feeling of inner ease
Anchor and maintain the feeling
Here’s a playlist I love that helps me find a sense of inner ease (and you get to feel like you’re on the set of a period drama!)
Don’t forget - you can join me on zoom for a weekly ritual to radiate heart and practice listening to our inner wisdom.
A free gathering and opportunity for supported practice every Sunday night at 8:30pm. The session will last about twenty minutes.
Zoom Invite Link:
Every Sunday 8:30pm (for approx 20 mins)
https://us05web.zoom.us/j/88957816109?pwd=zIGaqN8p4Ks523i0qAG1quS2rDjaMW.1
Meeting ID: 889 5781 6109
Password: H8gx1T
For more information on what to expect, refer to last week’s newsletter by clicking here.
Before the Beginning
Before the Beginning - John O'Donohue
Unknown to us, there are moments
When crevices we cannot see open
For time to come alive with beginning.
As in autumn in a field of corn
Knows when enough green has been inhaled
From the clay and under the skill
Of an artist breeze becomes gold in a day,
When the ocean still as a mirror
Of a sudden takes a sinister turn
To rise in a mountain of wave
That would swallow a village.
How to a flock of starlings
Scattered, at work on grass,
From somewhere, a signal comes
And suddenly as one, the describe
A geometric shape in the air.
When the audience becomes still
And the soprano lets the silence deepen,
In that slowed holding, the whole aria
Hovers nearer, then alights
On the wings of breath
Poised to soar into song.
These inklings were first prescribed
The morning we met in Westport
And I was left with such sweet time
Wondering if between us something
Was deciding to begin or not.
Sending you much love in the aliveness of your beginnings this new year,
Camille