Words of wisdom

For yoga teacher training this past weekend, we had an amazing guest teacher, who personified beauty on so many levels.  Outwardly she was kissed by the sun from her many outdoor pursuits, her arms were sculpted from rock climbing and her flexibility was honed by her yoga.  She was the picture of health.  Her beauty penetrated to much deeper levels as it became clear that her appeal was in her unblinking presence.  She had the brave ability to bare her soul, to speak openly about her highs and lows with a room full of virtual strangers, and to hold you in her gaze and engage you without fear. 

The coup de grace was when she produced a harmonium during savasana and chanted to us in heavenly tones.  This yogi was the kind of person you meet and by the end of a your first conversation you flash back to the impulse you had in back when you were in first grade just to blurt out, “Wanna be friends?” I hope our guest teacher, Paisley Close, knows what an impact she made on many of us this weekend. 

Beyond her approachable, charming nature and many talents, this woman has wisdom.  Some of the words I wrote in my yoga journal this weekend were so enlightening that I know I will return to them again and again. Paisley was in Claremont to teach us a course on finding balance on the yogic path, a pranayama / meditation workshop, and spring detox and nourishing practice.

But here is what I learned;

During her philosophy lecture, I collected these pearls of wisdom.  Suffering is the doorway to compassion. We endure tough times but we come out shinier, brighter and more self-assured on the other side.  As seekers doing spiritual work, healing and creating personal meaning in our journey; we will feel more. Yet sensitivity is a double-edged sword.  So we make our physical bodies strong to create a solid vessel in which to house all of these emotions. 

In the pranayama/ meditation workshop I got many new tools to practice my breathing but an even greater gift was an understanding that had eluded me for years.  I’ve always struggled to know the difference between prayer and meditation.  Paisley’s explanation that prayer is asking the higher power for something and meditation is listening for the answer struck a chord with me.  I am hoping to begin a home meditation practice over spring break in the hopes that starting this new habit during a peaceful week will help it to stick with me when school resumes. 

During the spring detox class, I got dangerously close to figuring out a new arm balance, which I had never even attempted.  Then merely calling upon the physical demonstration Paisley had given us coupled with her cues, I was able to hold the pose at home (when I was less physically exhausted) adding Eka Hasta Bhujasana  (One leg over arm balance) to my repertoire. Paisley would be pleased because one of her goals was to teach us how to do things that we could still do when she wasn’t there.  Mission Accomplished! 

I have had so many outstanding teachers during our training and taken away many lessons from each of them.  This weekend in particular made me want to write about my learning and to celebrate the joys of my yoga training.  A big thank you to all of my yoga teachers and fellow teachers in training for being on this road with me.  You all inspire me with your unique talents and energies.  Peace be with you on your journey. 
 

Don’t sweat it!

It’s about to get real up in here, so for the faint of heart, I suggest you avert your eyes.  Read something else, perhaps a romance novel where women glisten or glow because this female is about to admit something...  I am a woman and I sweat!  I’m not talking the kind of moisture you could dab away with a kerchief, or dewdrops demurely perched on my brow.  Perhaps you’ve heard the term sweating bullets?  (My elementary class is learning about idioms, so this saying has been on my mind lately).  That axiom doesn’t seem to suffice for my situation.  My dear friend, Dennis Hall, would utter a much more accurate term which he would often quote when mopping the sweat from  his forehead, “I am sweating major ammunition.”  Yes, folks that is how I roll and I am learning to embrace the sweat.  Whether I’m getting drenched running in the increasing heat of the Southern California spring (we have hit the 90s this week), or getting slippery on my yoga mat in our sauna like studio (and I don’t even practice “hot” yoga), I work up a sweat most every day.

Some say I’m warm blooded (yes, I realize all humans are but some of us tend to run warmer than others).  This tendency concerns my grandma who wears a terry robe even in the summer and there I am sleeveless and in shorts in December. I imagine she thinks I am constantly in a fevered state.  Other than dressing cool, I try to use a typical antiperspirant/ deodorant in my fight against funk, but every couple of years it stops working.  I need to switch brands or it irritates me and my sweat glands become painful.  As its been heating up the last few days, this recurrent problem resurfaced.  Over the last few days I have worn a few shirts that by the end of the day, I felt I might be better off burning that washing.  Time to try something new.  With all of my homemade skin care product dabbling, I had been dying to try making my own deodorant.  I found some recipes online, settled on one that I had all the ingredients for in my pantry, tweaked it a bit (I can’t help myself), then I went to work.  In less than five minutes, I had homemade deodorant.  It smells lovely and seems to work, I have yet to put it through a yoga weekend or a long run, so I let you know what the verdict is. 

Here is the recipe I used: 

1/2 cup coconut oil
1/4 cup cornstarch

1/4 cup baking soda
10 drops lemongrass essential oil  (you could use lavender for a more conventional scent, but with my current allergies anything floral makes me want to sneeze!)

What to Do:

1. Mix slightly softened coconut oil with the essential oil.
2. Add cornstarch and baking soda and mix until smooth.
3. Transfer to an empty deodorant tube.

Note: If it is hot out refrigerate your deodorant since coconut oil has a low melting point. This also made enough to fill two old deodorant tubes, but since I just had one, I saved the remaining product in a labeled plastic tub as a refill for future use.

Barnyard Banter

My morning began with a conspiratorial chat between a horse, a sheep, a goat and a rooster.  Sometimes it takes a while to wake up on day-break runs.  I was sort of groggy for the first few miles and not until I hit my favorite water fountain on the downhill, was I fully awake.  Then I questioned whether or not I had lapsed back into a weird dream.  Behind the wagon wheel fence of what I’m guessing is a horse boarding facility, the nostalgic call of a rooster reminded me of my many morning runs on Maui.  But I was drawn further into the scene, as I heard a horse making huffing sounds and bowing his head in the direction of a sheep who hurried over to his corral.  The sheep was joined by a goat and I swear the trio were hatching some sort of a scheme.  It looked as though the horse, with his lowered head was whispering to his two barnyard buddies and both goat and sheep, ears lifted to their friend’s muzzle, seemed very enthralled with what he had to say.  The remainder of my run was filled with theories on what their conversation contained.  Was it a plan to escape from their fenced-in yard and join the fun on the trail?  Perhaps it was something more mundane, like gossip about the goose?  I even wondered if the horse was letting slip some information about which beast had befowled the barnyard last night, as the aroma wafting from the yard was particularly pungent this morning.  I guess I will never know what secrets those three were sharing but here is a photo I snapped before I ran on my merry way.

Speaking of animals, here is something else odd I was pondering on my morning run.  (Seven miles is a long way, plenty of time to think!)  I guess it was because I saw a lot of hummingbirds on the trail this morning, I was remembering my Grandpa Harvey.  In life, he loved hummingbirds, had feeders all over his yard, sat in the backyard nearly every evening watching them zoom around.  After he passed away, we saw a hummingbird at his funeral and ever since, whenever I see hummingbirds I think of Harv.  But today I was reflecting that this animal connection to the afterlife is not just limited to grandpa Harv.  When my dad passed, I ran a lot.  It was my therapy.  I remember feeling it was a safe place to cry because with my shades on, tears and sweat would look the same to a passerby, so no one even had to know.  Often times on those runs a couple of spring times ago, I would find I was being followed by Robins.  It just so happens my dad was named Christopher Robin.  Now whenever I see a Robin, I think of dad.  Whenever I see a Red Tailed Hawk, circling high, I think of my dad’s father, Earl.  It hurts my heart to think of how long it has been since my sweet cousin Joel left us, but strangely I feel his presence in the predawn when bunnies are near.  If you knew what a giant of a man Joel was, you’d find it funny that I think of him when I see a tiny trembling bunny.  But I always remember him being up before everyone, he probably saw tons of sunrises in his life and he was a big guy but he had a gentle heart.  So somehow when I’m running across a grassy expanse just before the sun comes up, and cottontails are dotting the lawn, I remember Joel.  Now I am not too firm in my beliefs, I like to think I’m still figuring them out, so if you question me on any of this I’ll probably back down.  I don’t attest that my relatives have reincarnated as animals, but it is in nature that I feel closest to God and to my own spiritual side.  So I think they know they can find me there and maybe sending a furry or fluttery friend my way is a vehicle for communication.  It’s just a thought.  Like I said, plenty of time for thinking when I am on the run. 

Last night my husband and I had a date to go see the wisteria blooming at Scripps College.  Right before we took this picture two hawks, soared very close overhead.  All I could think was, “Who’ve you got there with you, Earl?”  Well, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy, right Horatio? Hey, that gives me an idea!  I’m going to call that horse Horatio from now on. Perhaps the horse was saying a eulogy for a farmyard friend.  If people I’ve loved who have died come to me in animals, maybe beloved animals who pass can come to us through people.  What could Horatio have said in his solemn speech to comfort his compatriots?  “Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!” 

Wonderful Weekend

On Friday night, Greg and I went out to our favorite restaurant, Kishi.  Always delicious, healthy high quality food but our favorite part is that Ken, our sushi chef, knows what we want as soon as we walk in the door, and by the time we have said our hellos and made it to our regular seats; he has already started making our food!  After dinner, Greg took me to a folk jam at Pitzer college where he found a communal upright bass, which he played most of the night.  Greg is a guitarist, bassist, vocalist (multi-instrumentalist) but he had never played upright bass before.  Despite some outstanding blisters on his fingertips, you would never have known he was novice.  There may be a new addition to the Jackson family in the near future.  I’m envisioning a bouncing beautiful upright bass in the corner of our living room! 

Saturday started with a seven mile run through the foothills of Claremont.  Followed by a birthday yoga class for my mama.  We enjoyed a nice lunch and some shopping after class.  With the temps pushing up near 90 in the afternoon, we took shelter indoors and spent some quality time with Grandma Lou.  She took this photo of mom and I giggling after trying to demonstrate some yoga poses for her. 

Sunday, our usual market day, was capped off by a luscious lunch provided by the Cheese Cave!  Though I hadn’t planted any sweat peas this year, my recently rebellious back yard had volunteers coming up from last year.  So I was able to pick a few of mom’s favorites for her 62^nd birthday.

After our indulgent weekend, I made a healthy salad for dinner and packaged up leftovers in Weck jars to take for lunch this week.  Baby spinach with quinoa, chickpeas, feta, hardboiled egg, green olives and a spicy lemon vinaigrette.  We had a fun filled weekend and now I’m ready to kick off a busy week by teaching Yoga on the Run at 6am tomorrow!

Handstands, arm balances, and strange friends

During my most recent weekend of teacher training, I discovered muscles I didn’t know I had.  Not only did we learn the specific names for our forearm muscles (Extensor Mr. Ouchiness, was the scientific name, I believe), we spent hour upon hour in poses feeling, using, and exhausting those muscles.  Let’s not even mention the shoulders!  Sufficed to say, soaking in Epsom salts has been my saving grace.  So what did I do after 16 hours of teacher training over the weekend?  Got up at 5 am on Monday to teach Yoga on the Run!  Can you say Yoga Overdose?! Maybe a little, but I am having so much fun with this journey!

So there is lots of yoga in my life, but I am still making time for my love of running as well.

Recently my running buddy and I discussed the joys of running outside.  I have never done much time on a treadmill.  Living in a mild climate in the winter and being willing to run in predawn hours during the summer, I have never had much need.  I remember running on the treadmill once in June Lake over Thanksgiving Break at the Double Eagle Spa to get in some miles on a snowy day and it was pure torture.  The only distraction was watching Paula Deen stuff a turkey on the screen display.  Watching the Food Network while running on the treadmill may be a distraction, but I cannot remember ever feeling hungrier on a run! 

One of the things I love about running on the trail near my home is the people watching and yes, I have my favorites.  I don’t know these people; they are strangers.  Yet I am so fond of seeing them; they seem to be friends in a way.  Thus. I consider them strange friends.  Part of my running entertainment is giving these folks amusing and endearing names and imagining their life stories.

First and foremost, there is Sarong Sage. This lovely lady is always wrapped in a colorful tapestry, looking very exotic except for her circa 1980s white Reeboks and tube socks.  Happy wrinkles are carved on her tan face and I am guessing this grandma is in her 90s.  She strolls the stretch slow and steady.  I see her almost every time I am on the trail, regardless of day of the week or time but especially early mornings.  I like to pretend, she rolls out of bed butt-naked at the crack of dawn, wraps herself in the nearest colorful embroidered sheet from a collection she has amassed through a lifetime of travel, puts on her tennis shoes and walks back and forth on that trail all day as a meditation on life.  That is exactly what I hope to do when I’m retired! 

Then there is No-sun Nellie, who I totally empathize with because before I hit the trail, I slather on copious amounts of sunblock, shades, and a cap.  But Nellie is out there running with a full brimmed sun hat, a kerchief that is pinned to her hat covering all of her face but her eyes (I imagine her breathing must create her own little sauna, hot and steamy), and she wears gloves even when the weather is the 80s.  You go Nellie, skin cancer can’t touch your speedy self! You’ll outlive us all!

Finally, a recent favorite is The Birdman Biker.  He is not actually a biker but the fact that he ALWAYS wears a black leather vest puts me in mind of a biker.  This fellow has a tough look but his gentle character is exposed as he pitches peanuts out of his pockets to Blue Jays in the bushes.  I can only imagine the inside pockets of that leather vest, like the floor of the Northwood’s Inn or a BBQ joint with sawdust floors, due to all the crushed up peanut shells he’s toting around.  I imagine he hangs the vest on a coat rack when he gets home and meticulous reloads his pockets knowing an exact number of peanuts he will need to feed his regular feathered friends on the trail each day.

One of the joys of running for me is interacting with others.  Whether just through a friendly and knowing nod from a fellow jogger or a heartfelt hello with one of my regulars,  I love being out in the world, soaking up the beauty of nature and reveling in its peace with like-minded souls.