R.S. attends our day program. She's deaf. Because of this she's kinda kept from us, in a silent place of her own. I've noticed that I tend to shy away from her. Maybe it's because I don't know how to get to her. She writes most of her conversations to us on notebook pages. They're actually quite poetic, lovely, and fractured. But it's difficult when she wants to convey a straight-forward thought, or have a practical conversation. She's often frustrated because other's don't understand what she's trying to say. She's also surprisingly vocal and makes these inadvertent creaking noises that come rising-up from her wordless throat. 

I don't think she's had a lot of experience with yoga, but R.S. is a yogi. She's one of my favorite yogabelly-ers. Most of my peeps have short attention spans, and I try to work with that. I realize they like to be vocal in their yoga because it makes it fun for them. When encouraging them to inhale and exhale slowly and deeply, it's really difficult for them to do. But R.S. is different. Because she doesn't hear, her other senses are incredibly in-tune. 

It's amazing. If she can see me from her mat, her chest rises and falls with mine. She mirrors even the smallest movements. At times I'm made aware of a shift, or movement I've made because it's mirrored by her. Each breath, each posture, each focus. She also gets very quiet during these times. Her familiar creaks and moans become almost imperceptible. 

I feel so grateful to have had the opportunity to witness, and appreciate her abilities. Her "R.S. Ness." She relates-to and touches the world in such a different, sensuous way. 

Long time, no type

Oh, golly so much time has passed since my last post. I have to fight the urge to futilely cram it ALL in and simply write what's pertinent right now. An exercise requiring much restraint and letting go. Well, although it's begun to wain with the passing days, The Crib is still pertinent in my heart and mind, so I get to say a little somethin' somethin' about it. Fan-friggin-tastic!! I honestly don't know how to put it all into words, so I'll just ramble off some free-association thoughts: nourishment, friendship, community, connection, shooting stars, gratitude, abundant giving, amazing teachings, willing-to learning, dance, delicious movement, healing... I have to admit that on post-Crib Monday, I felt pretty lonely and opted  for an afternoon nap instead of a solo trip to the mat. 

About two months ago I started teaching yoga to the peeps at work. I work with developmentally disabled adults. Realizing the need for movement, connection with the body and general release, a fellow colleague of mine, who used to be a professional belly dancer, agreed to teach belly dancing if I lead yoga. So, we started Yogabelly.

Of all the thoughts, feelings, and experiences I've had during this new teaching time, the biggest lesson I am learning is to let go of any outcome or expectations. At first I noticed how difficult it was for me to veer from my lesson plans. Mostly because I'm insecure about being a "teacher" (and what that means), being able to hold the space, and wanting to do it "right." Up until a couple weeks ago ( just after the crib actually), I noticed an absence of this dis associative anxiety I was experiencing when leading Yogabelly. And as the weeks have progressed, I find myself much more OK with whatever happens. In every class M.G. is still M.G.: disruptive, attention seeking and challenging. But, when I am in a place of calm and receptivity, M.G. is yet another exciting piece of the practice; an opportunity, even.  

I've noticed that my peeps really like an opportunity to be vocal. I've weaved animal noises into the various asanas like cat dog, lion's breath, sighing, and letting go noises, I even taught them Kira's "wise guy," and encouraged them to speak with a mafioso accent. So, realizing that vocalization is an engaging part of our practice together, today I introduced OM. As we deeply inhaled for our third, glorious, centering round, D.O. inadvertently let out the loudest, longest, 5th-grade-funny, post-lunch flatulence this side of the mat. We were shaken out of our reverence and catapulted into total hysterics. I was reminded, yet again that I should never take it too seriously and that although I have my "serious" relationship with yoga, laughter and play can also be a part of it. It's all connected. It's all a part of the whole glorious, unpredictable catastrophe. I am reminded yet again of what a skilled teacher yoga is.