Imagine

Last week my friend Darrell treated me to a session with Catherine Shainberg, a world leader in the use of imagery for transformation. Darrell and his wife live on Bainbridge Island, so my day started by walking down to the ferry on a gorgeous, sunny Seattle Thursday. There's something transformational in the very act of making that crossing-- letting go of my business and personal obligations in Seattle and crossing Puget Sound to a different land.

Darrell picked me up from the ferry in his truck and drove me out to his house in the woods. After entering on a windy dirt road past a fully in-bloom mature Magnolia, we arrived at his beautiful home hugged by ancient Cedar trees. Catherine and Darrell's wife Joyce were waiting when I arrived. After a quick hello, Catherine led me into the small office where she was doing her private sessions for the day. I hadn't prepared a question before going to visit, nor did I have any idea really what to expect.

I've always been headstrong. My way or the highway. It's gotten me into lots of trouble, created loads of conflict and discomfort for me with family, friends, colleagues, partners. The older I get, the more I see what a waste of time this is. Life is too short, time is precious. So while I didn't have an exact question in mind for my session with Catherine, I was, and am, very interested in learning ways to move on from my lifelong bullheadedness.

After a few minutes of background questions, Catherine told me, in her lilting French accent, "You are very stubborn." Yes. Very. "Do you know how I know?" she pressed, "That line on your forehead. It tells me you are holding on. You are stubborn."  The night before at our dining room table, my daughter Lucia was sketching picture of me and actually made a comment about that line on my forehead. Two references in less than twelve hours. That's a pretty noticeable line.

Catherine invited me to close my eyes and proceeded to guide me back, through beautiful imagery and breath, to a time where this "stubbornness" might have originated. The process was hard work, emotional, and I felt tears streaming down my cheeks first intermittently, then continuously, until we were done. When I opened my eyes, I could see through the window,  a little brown squirrel perched on the porch chair behind Catherine, peering over her shoulder through the glass, looking right at me. I wondered if that little squirrel had been witnessing my process the whole time-- anguished face, dabbing my tears with kleenex-- or if he'd just shown up to welcome me back to reality.

Catherine then told me that I have a  lot of work to do, a lot of practice to let go of my brow-wrinkling stubbornness. I asked if I could actually get rid of the deep groove in my forehead, and she smiled, "Yes, you can. You just have to keep working."

"It's all there" Catherine explained, "All of the beautiful parts of you are all there. Your work is to let go of what's blocking it." I don't fully understand it, but I basically get it. I have a line in my forehead that reminds me, every time I look in the mirror, to let go of my stubbornness. I don't have to recreate or rebuild or fix some part of myself. I have to look within, imagine, the release of my rigidity, and what's already there will be set free.

You're a human being not a human doing

You know those times when your yoga teacher tells you to "be still", "slow down", "quiet your mind" and you immediately start thinking about refinishing your floors or making a date with your new eyebrow stylist? I do. It's taken years of consistent practice-- both yoga and meditation-- to be able to even remotely get to stillness. In times of great life chaos or strife, my brain is even more vulnerable to slipping into distraction.

I recently went to see an intuitive. She called herself a Celestial Oracle, which I think sounds so much better. Anyway, she read my angel cards, and the first things she said to me was, "You are a teacher and a healer are you not?" Slack-jawed, I nodded. The next thing she said was, "and you are emerging from a time of great turmoil." Again, correcto!

Later on in our time together, this woman offered more guidance to help me through this post-tumolt phase that I am now in. "Laura," she said, "you are a human being. Not a human doing." Could I bring this woman home with me to sit on my bedside table beside my light therapy alarm clock? 

But alas, I am a grown up and I need to steer my own ship, even if I consistently get lots of help navigating. Those words, "You are human being, not a human doing" offer me a direction when I slip into old, dysfunctional patterns. We all need time and place to slow down, to settle, to be in the present moment. It is why I have to do yoga every day. If I didn't, I would live in an almost constant state of fighting the "doing" voices. I need the guidance of my teachers, my postures, my focused breath to coax me into stillness, to remind me that being is the state I was born into, my natural homeostasis.

Doing is the state I have grown into. I am still working out this stuff. For example, would I find my yoga practice, my meditation, as satisfying if I wasn't such a doer? I'm not sure. I do know that I am programmed high on the doer spectrum and I am glad to have found a path that nurtures my origins as a human being. This time the magic reminding words came from a Celestial Oracle named Donna, but I am grateful to hear similar messages every day from the teachers in my life who remind me to "slow down", "be still", and "quiet my mind."

Silver Dragon.... Golden Dragon

I took my first Qigong class last week in Desert Hot Springs, California. The teacher was a man in his 70s named Michael. We practiced in the early morning, outside on the dewy grass next to a turtle-filled pond with palm trees above and ducks wandering back and forth behind us. Nancy, my partner, had gone to the class the day before and thought I’d like it. As we started the class, I felt my “quick-to-judge” voice come out. “Who is this guy?”; "Is he the real deal?” and other stupid thoughts that come when the mind goes to the too-quick-to judge responses. He had some quirks-- like spitting in the middle of a posture instruction or belching on an exhale, but he was a great instructor, a wise old man indeed.  After the hour-long class, I felt both challenged and relaxed. My mind was in the perfect resting place of quiet thoughtfulness.

I went back the next morning for another Qigong lesson. We did an entirely different series and I was again surprised by how challenged I felt in this new practice. My acupuncturist, over the years has introduced me to various Qigong postures, but I’d never done a whole class and I was humbled by how much my body needed to try, how much I needed to focus my mind in order to do what Michael instructed.

On our second day of class, Michael led us through a series of moves that was much more rigorous than the day before. As we bounced up and down off of our heels and back to the earth and shook our arms from our shoulders to our wrists, he’s say, “Silver dragon shakes the universe.”  And then, just when I thought I couldn’t shake anymore, he’d guide us into our foundational stillness posture. Once there, quiet and calm, he’d say, “Golden dragon calms the universe.” At the end of class, we did a beautiful closing series that simultaneously wrapped everything up and set it all free.

It reminded me of yoga in this way. In yoga we move from stillness to action and back again until we rest in final Savasana. My Qigong experience, because it was new for my body and my mind, gave me the opportunity to experience these opposing energies in a fresh way. The experience left me with boundless gratitude—for the beauty of the surroundings I was in; for Nancy for encouraging me to try Qigong; for Michael who built his knowledge and practice for forty years and shared it with all of us; and for my own daily yoga practice.

A daily practice of yoga is something I take for granted. I could see this clearly after taking those two Qigong classes—the way my body felt, how it had to work and the way my mind felt during and after the practice. It is a gift, a blessing some would say, to experience this kind of body-mind connection. “Silver dragon shakes the universe. Golden dragon calms the universe.” It happens in Qigong, and it happens in yoga. Thank you Michael for those beautiful classes and reminding me of my daily blessings.

Valentine's Day-Handmade Love

On Valentine's Day this year Lucia and Nancy planned to make a fancy dinner and surprise me. The surprise was leaked and we decided to expand our threesome to include some of our favorite friends, bringing our love fest to seven.

Around this time, I was also lamenting my decision to get Lucia a Kindle Fire for her birthday in October. Since she got the Kindle Fire, she's had a slow and steady progression of spending more and more time on her "device" and it has been making me mad, sad, frustrated and confused.

In and attempt to get myself off of my phone and laptop and, in preparation for Valentine's Day, I turned everything off and started "crafting." I pulled out the craft paper, scissors, glue, and old magazines and went to work on the dining room table.  I waited patiently and eventually Lucia came down and joined me in the card making. Nancy absconded to her crafty friend Tammy's house and came home with secret envelopes.

The resulting Valentine's cards were perfect. And here's why: making something by hand, whether it is food, socks, or a card, is an act of love, something we have less and less time for these days. I suspect it is why there are more and more little boutiques with precious, tiny handmade somethings that carry a hefty price tag. When I was making my cards, I found myself becoming increasingly more focused, energized, and excited as I cut and glued with my loved ones in mind.  I got so excited when I found wrapping paper with fireworks that I could use to make the heart shapes on Nancy's card. I knew Lucia would appreciate all of the tiny little "Xs" and "Os" I cut out to form the words on her card.

We exchanged cards on Valentine's Day, and I also made a new Kindle Fire rule- it lives in my room and Lucia has significantly more restricted use (she handled the news surprising well.) We all loved our cards so much that we decided to string them from the light fixtures in the kitchen so we could admire them while we cooked. Lucia used all the extra hearts and scraps to make place cards for our party and she sprinkled the extra hearts around the table as decoration.

Before I got a computer and a phone, I spent a lot more time making things by hand. I sewed, I knit, I canned beans, I made paper out of my recycling. Ten years ago, I always had some kind of project brewing; making Valentine's Day cards reminded me how good it feels to engage in that way.

So what's my lesson? There are a few. One-- it's hard to tell my kid to stop looking at a screen when I'm guilty of it as well. Two-- slowing down and making something by hand is a beautiful, perfect, highly satisfying experience, especially when it's for the ones you love.

To be a teacher

Yesterday I had a conversation with two SweatBox teachers, Frani and Rachael, about how we feel about being teachers. Sometimes I cannot believe that I've been practicing yoga for 23 years. When I started practicing at age 24, I never thought I'd become a teacher.  In retrospect, I think I leaned into yoga because my dad was at the beginning of a three year battle with cancer which would ultimately take his life. Yoga was a new hobby, an exotic adventure, a place to escape the sorrow of my father's sickness and death. Of the 15 years that I've been a teacher, I would say I've really only been truly teaching for about half that time.

As a new teacher, I had so much to learn. A few years into my teaching career, I had a baby, a physical and emotional journey that took all of my love, energy and attention. I took six weeks off from teaching when Lucia was born, but went right back to a regular schedule after that break. I taught, I worked hard, I gave it my all, but I can see now that, though I thought I was all there, my focus was with my baby; as much as I loved teaching, my heart was always with the tiny being who needed me to survive.  I was always happiest when I could get back to her and press my nose to her tiny, delicious head while she nursed or hear her breathing while she napped beside me.

A few years after that, I went through a brutal heart-break-- betrayal, confusion, despair. I taught through that period as well, sometimes hiding my tears while I taught with the sweat that came from the hot room. As much as I wanted to be all in with my teaching, I could not because all of my resources went to tending my broken heart.

My daughter is now 11, spreading her wings, needing space, forging the beginnings of her adolescent path. My heart is healed and I have found new, enduring love. Through all of this, I have been a "yoga teacher." And through all of this, I have been learning, healing, evolving as a teacher. I often tell my students that it is in the struggle, the discomfort, that change comes. I really hated being away from my baby when she could barely hold her head up. And when all I wanted to do was weep from heartache, to stay in bed and indulge that need, I still taught. I had a job to do. I was, and I am a teacher.

As I look back at my fifteen years of doing this work, I am grateful that I had and still have yoga--as a student and a teacher-- to shepherd me through whatever else is going on in my life. There is a beautiful process that happens between a teacher and students, a subtle, symbiotic process. I can see now that, for me living through those struggles, with my students and with my teachers, I have become a stronger teacher, a more empathic, present, and passionate teacher. And it makes me realize too, how much there is still to learn, how wide open and expansive the space is for me to grow personally and as a teacher.

What I've thought about most from that short conversation with Frani and Rachael yesterday is how grateful I am to be a teacher and a student. I have profound, immeasurable gratitude for all of the teachers and students in my life who make up this complex universe of change and growth. Thank you.

Guest Blogger- The Evolution of the New SweatBox by Darrell Cooley

When I first saw The SweatBox in the summer of 2015, is was from across the street through a tangle of trucks, men, and equipment in the process of making a new sidewalk out front. A little jewel waiting to be uncovered, standing alone like an island in the middle of a flood tide called Amazon.com that is slowly but surely saturating every corner of our beloved Capitol Hill with new high rise apartments, restaurants, and people.

            The awesome old style steel roll-up door was wide open allowing the late summer sun to saturate every corner of the ‘feng shui infraction’ lobby; spilling a soft shaft of light into the muted studio that swirled through the studio where people had sweat out their demons for the last fourteen years. My kind of place!

            Good resonance with the building and good resonance with the owner and so it is time to figure out the remodel plan. Sometimes a project will speak to you; we could hear voices as we looked around and the format unfolded, both physically and metaphysically; lots of light, love, feng shui, and Sacred Geometry.    

            The physical part of the project, floating bamboo floors, ground and polished concrete, new paint, showers, new entry desk, and lighting were woven together between Laura and myself. We had a great time and lots of fun recreating the finishes at the good old SweatBox; and working together was smooth and easy because Mr. Ego could not be found in this part of town.

            The metaphysical part that we incorporated is based upon building practices that I have had the good fortune to discover over the past 30+ years. Ancient builders and architects have used Sacred Geometry, golden mean, and Fibonacci components in buildings, places, and spaces all over the world for millennia. We like to use intention to work with golden mean proportions which we decided upon for all of the rectangles in the studio; and somehow seven such spaces appeared on the south wall, and seven is the number of chakras in the human body. 

So we painted the colors that correlate to the various chakras in the proper sequence across the seven spaces and then placed the corresponding Sanskrit symbols for each chakra in the appropriate rectangle--powerful palpable energy that permeates the entire yoga space with a somehow familiar song of peace and relaxation.

            The Flower of Life is also a favorite tool we like to use for lifting up the energy of any place, space or person. This is an incredible symbol that has been found all over the world in ancient and sacred sites. We painted the Flower of Life using stencils and golden spray paint on the concrete underneath the hardwood floor before we installed it.  There are over  fifty flowers underneath the studio floor putting out massive vibrations of light that that rise up through the bamboo and illuminate the room, kind of like a in-floor heating system of psychic energy.

            The crown jewel of our creation is the large Flower of Life that greets you like a huge search light beam of positive vibrations as you enter the lobby. It is so strong that we recommend seat belts for the overly sensitive people who might just fly away.  It was hand painted by a beautiful Russian Angel who somehow landed in the lobby for a few days and imparted some magic upon us all.  Another Golden Mean rectangle surrounds this incredible piece of art and comingles to greet everyone who enters with a 10.0 energy quake on the Renegade Richter Scale of seismic salutations. Can you feel it ?!

            It is always an honor to have to opportunity to participate on a project like this, and sometimes the work takes on a life of it’s own and we all just watch excitedly as it unfolds.  This was one of those times. Of course if you want to see the true source of the Energy that illuminates The SweatBox today, well if you get a chance just take a look into Laura’s eyes. End of Story!!!

            Namaste…..

           

About Darrell Cooley

Darrell was born into the building world and has been living there all of his life. Darrell's dad was a builder as are both of his brothers. About 40 years ago Darrell had the opportunity to travel to far away exotic lands-- India, Afghanistan, Nepal and many European countries. He has continued traveling extensively over the past few decades and visited many Sacred Sites all around the globe.  With an inherited eye for building methods and practices Darrell is constantly amazed at what ancient builders and designers manifested centuries and even millennia ago. Darrell has been incorporating some of these magical building formulas into his work for over 20 years now and continues to learn and be fascinated by the grace and beauty of the structures and places his ancestorial building colleagues created so many years ago.   

Mammogram

Last month I had a back-to-back mammogram and thyroid ultrasound. For those of you know what a mammogram feels like, you know that deep breathing and moderate dissociation is part of the process. Fewer of you have probably had a thyroid ultrasound. I have a nodule on my thyroid that I have to have ultrasounded every year. For the ultrasound, you have to lie very still with your head hanging slightly back. I was in that position for about 45 minutes last month.

I've never met a woman who's enjoyed a mammogram. It's just not pleasant, but we undergo the procedure because it's part of being a middle-aged female with breasts in the twenty-first century. Also, not uncommon for women their 40s is thyroid irregularities, hence my periodic thyroid ultrasound.

I attribute my good health to my twenty-odd years of regular yoga practice. My endocrinologist suggested that it is probably through Standing Separate Leg Head to Knee Pose that I have managed to slow the growth of my thyroid nodule. I am sure I've staved off joint pain and other age-related ailments through my practice as well.

During my day of procedures last month, I drew strength and calm from the most important part of my yoga practice- the relaxation postures. Every day that I practice, I work on creating a balance between exertion and relaxation. I toggle the two energies until I reach a state of equanimity.

It is often in the most unexpected of places that we recognize the significance of our passive yoga practice. We often celebrate the health benefits or our more active yoga practice-- smaller thyroid nodules, more energy, thinner arms. But the benefits that come from our passive asanas (corpse pose, child's pose) are oftentimes more subtle.

I felt grateful last month when I was forced to notice the benefits of my passive yoga practice. I won't say that either of the procedures I had were enjoyable. They weren't. But neither were they awful. They just were. I will have these procedures, probably every year or two for the rest of my life and I am grateful that I can stay calm, even relaxed while they are happening.