SomaYoga at Stillpoint

Peace in every step?

     When I watched the guests at Stillpoint Lodge move with curiosity through their yoga classes, it inspired me to do the same with my daily living habits. An essential aspect of SomaYoga is to "stay curious." Stay interested in what's happening, as it's happening.

Most of us dabble in auto-pilot living. Sometimes we get stuck in reflexive living. We've all pulled out stale or canned responses in newly given moments, and sometimes this routine response to life becomes hard wired in our brains. This might be fine if rote living didn't create tension in our muscles, minds, and affect our relationships. On the flip side, staying curious turns boredom into entertainment, and makes the most overwhelming situations more manageable. Being grateful for whatever curious thing arises next, keeps me from being a slave to my particular set of likes and dislikes. As a major bonus, whenever I remember to trade in judgement for curiosity & gratitude, I experience peace.

Understanding that each moment is an original, why not get interested in every given one? Why limit ourselves to enjoying life only when it is meeting our demands? When I fall away from a playful curiosity towards myself and others, I miss the opportunity for gratitude and happiness.

No rushing going on here.

Rushing to get to the next, possibly better moment, in order to continue rushing to the next, is no longer a lifestyle I want to support for myself. Knowing that I can only live one moment at a time, as they are given. Now is the time to get curious about life, in all the ways it presents itself.

Who's Your Mama?

     Another round of the warm seasons in Alaska sounded like a good idea, even though I had not planned on repeating last summer's itinerary. But as Heraclitus wrote, "No man ever steps into the same river twice, for it's not the same river and he's not the same man."

Mothering Hen

I arrived back in Halibut Cove ten days ago, noticing how many things really had changed. For starters, my nanny gig has a new baby in the mix! Her seven year old sister is displaying a growing maturity and a sassy new haircut. I thought about all the obvious changes while watching one of the hens, remembering her as a tiny chick last year at this time. This hen, lovingly named Poof, had been sitting on unfertilized eggs, anticipating they would hatch. The situation gave her human caregivers an idea. They purchased 6 chicks and placed them under Poof in the night. The broody hen is now caring for the chicks as if they were her own.

I couldn't help but notice some similarities between me and the hen. I too, had become an instant mother figure for the season. "We are all children of the Universe" is an adage that keeps going through my head. It led me to think that we are probably all mothers too. Whether you hatch your own chicks or not, male of female, I think there is a mother in all of us. Mine is excited for this summer. Another new element this season is that my room floats on the sea! How soothing to be rocked to sleep by Mother Nature herself.

There is also a new crew, which is sure to bring up ample opportunities for mind-study. Indeed, it is not the same river and I am not the same woman.

Expectations in Sound

What would sound look like?

     Do you ever find yourself feeling agitated by sound? How about in places where silence is expected? One example that comes to mind happened while participating in a 10 day silent meditation. I was assigned a room with a very talkative roommate. Even after addressing the issue with the facilitator the woman continued to talk, both to herself, and to me. I certainly had not expected to room with a sound maker during a silent retreat!

Another time during a silent retreat, major construction was happening next door. The on-going sounds of table saws, hammers, and classic rock radio wasn't mentioned in the weekend program. Without a doubt, my expectations caused me to suffer. I was attached to the idea of an uncluttered environment, which included the absence of noise.

Perhaps it's sirens, a screaming child, or people talking all at once that causes auditory distress? Whatever it may be that irks your ears, try playing with this creative anecdote for embracing the "unexpected" sounds of life. Before beginning this listening experience, you might read & remember that "The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences."  Then, try listening to this sound meditation by Maximum Lotus with an open mind, free of expectation:

- Begin by listening to the first few minutes of the composition with your eyes open (to enjoy
    the musicians). Close your eyes for the duration.
- Listen & experience whatever arises in your body/mind, both pleasant & unpleasant.
- Notice all the different sounds (in the same way you might acknowledge your thoughts during
  a more traditional meditation).
- Allow the sounds to replace your thoughts for the next 13 minutes.
- Notice where various sounds settle in your body. Do they move around? Can you let them go?
  *Continue sitting in silence for 5 minutes (or more)  and feel the effects when it's finished.*
- Consider sharing your experience here, or with another.

Silent Night

Winter Solstice; Returning of Light.

     More days of tradition are approaching. Just as we finish a day of shared gratitude, it's time for the jingle jangle part.

My tradition includes discovering new traditions every year. It may sound like an oxymoron, but it may also be a legitimate tradition. Either way, planned gatherings are sometimes the focus on the 24th, 25th, 31st, and then some. This year, we're taking a break from driving and being overly social. Some possible activities may include washing windows (this is more fun than it sounds), building a fire, and a whole lot of aromatherapy (including fresh nutmeg, essential oils of pine, peppermint, and orange). 

Winter solstice feels like a real highlight among the holidays. I love that it can be celebrated anywhere, includes nature, and always has a present moment aliveness to it. Shortly after contemplating the returning of light, my mind starts to welcome in the tune of "Silent Night", (mostly for the silent part). The anticipation of a silent, healing night has long replaced the anticipation of present unwrapping. 

When we finally cease to scramble, there is a felt sense of our collective holy presence. I hope you will experience this too.