The Teacher Has Become The Student

Since I moved with my family back in January, I've been itching to find a new outdoor "Sunrise Spot".  During the whole month of February my Sunrise Practice took place indoors, and as beneficial as it was to keep my practice rolling, something was missing.  Catching a Sunrise from inside just isn't the same. 

The natural rhythms of Earth - even in the deep winter - are the driving forces of the inspiration I receive while practicing in this way.  It is not only yoga practice I am after, it is complete human experience.  The Sunrise is such a significant event for all Life on this planet, and the natural world greets it every day.  It has been my joy to join the natural world in the coming of the Sun.

A few days ago, while taking a woodland hike with my kids, I found a beautiful area by a stream.  I returned solo a few days later for Saturday morning Sunrise Practice, and my 6am bike ride already had me in the mood - chorus’ of birds, at least two vast expanses of pasture with accompanying cattle (in Radnor Township no less), a warm humidity and slight haze.  While unloading my gear streamside (yoga mat, notebook, water bottle), a fellow human strolled by.  He had long, braided blond hair and a big beard.  We exchanged a bit of, "Good morning, beautiful day for a walk, etc." (turns out we’re the same age!), then he asked me what I was doing with the things I brought.  I told him I was getting ready for some yoga, and his face lit up, "Can you show me!?" he said like a child unable to hide his excitement.  Naturally I obliged.  For me, the deepest gift I can receive from my practice is the opportunity to share it.

Before I encountered this man, though rather unorthodox, I had my eye set on practicing yoga on the beautiful big rocks in the stream, as opposed to being streamside on my mat.  The water was calling to me, "Get In".  So I lead myself and my new friend down to the rocks.  We took our footing.  Then a quick mental conversation with myself rumbled through:

"Now what?
Well, I'm going to teach some yoga.
What's yoga?
Well....."

It's true that given our precarious footings, traditional yoga asanas would not do.  Asking the question "what's yoga?" in this unfamiliar situation proved to be very powerful.  When my friend asked to see the yoga, I briefly contemplated ditching my aqueous adventure and just sticking to traditional "on the mat" yoga.  This way it would be easy for me to "teach him yoga" - I could just do the things I usually do in a class setting, guide him through some traditional asanas, etc.  But how boring to basically ignore what this glorious landscape was providing us with....we had to play!  So there we were, on the rocks....and that question “what’s yoga” seemed to echo for eternity.  Is dancing on the rocks yoga?  Can wading through the water be considered yoga?  Or do we need down dog and warrior II to consider it yoga?

I chose to begin with familiarity.  We assumed mountain pose, and breathed.  I noticed him breathing heavy in his chest, neglectful of his belly, so I offered that he take a hand to his belly to remind him to fill that space as well.  We breathed for sometime, and while I was deciding what would be next in our sequence, I was steam-rolled by the realization that his request that began all this was, “Can you show me?”.  Not, “Can you teach me?”.  He simply wanted to share in my Sunrise Practice, but my “I am yoga teacher” mind got the best of me and I arbitrarily assumed the roll of teacher, and declared him my student.  I inserted distance between us, and it was palpable.  So much so that eventually he equalized us by smiling and saying, “I’m open”, which felt like, “Don’t be shy, let’s get into this”.

With that, I shut up, turned my attention to myself and dove into my practice.  He dove into his, and we shared that beautiful space.  Eventually we dance/crawled from rock to rock down the stream, waded in the water, shared feelings about Life - its simplicities and complications, waded back upstream to where we started, took (small) drinks from the flowing liquid, splashed it in our faces and hair, hugged like brothers and then parted ways - each of us to enjoy our day refreshed, invigorated, and blessed by a not-so-stranger.

What a gift and a liberation.  I assumed a position of superiority, and it was he who elevated me to equality.  Thank you my friend.

As he headed off down the trail he jokingly said, “Next Saturday, 7am?”  I’ll be there :-)

[For a picture of the spectacular location check out @dadbalance on Instagram]

Pay Yourself First

It's amazing what can happen in six weeks.  Life ebbs and flows in rhythms, inertias develop and grow, experiences fold into one another.

For the month of February, I was regularly attending my Sunrise Yoga practice.  I was writing.  I was grooving in a certain rhythm.  Then bouts of fevers and upheavals for the kids and my wife and I, a busier work schedule, sleepless nights, and what seemed like an endless winter lead to my divergence to a new rhythm.  I want to call this undesirable, I want to say that it was bad that I "lost" my Sunrise Rhythm.  If I commune with my centered self, however, I remember that this new rhythm is simply different than its predecessor - not above or below, or better or worse.   A label of judgment has no place in the pursuit of truth.  All is welcome, for all IS.  The path that keeps me smiling is that which welcomes this new rhythm as a friend, an experience worth having, an experience to be grateful for.  I've read that, "What you resist persists.  What you look at disappears."  Life shows up to be acknowledged, not denied.  After all, Life, as it shows up, is reality.  It may as well be seen.  Once it is seen, then it may be altered if one wishes.  How can we change something to which we deny existence?  As long as I hold to the perception of my new rhythm being bad, and I grieve the loss of my old rhythm, I am unable to accept the offering of a new moment.  I am resisting the present and clinging to the past.  I am trading reality for a memory.  To release the memory and settle steadily in reality, I breathe in, I notice, I breathe out, I notice.  I notice first I am here.  I notice second I am breathing.  I notice third I am hearing, I am smelling, I am seeing (perhaps the back of eyelids).

So Here I Am.  The weather is taking a turn, the early morning grass is ever inviting (and my bare feet eager to oblige), my kids are sleeping through the night, and I am envisioning a new rhythm.  Sunrise, glorious sunrise.

An early morning practice equates to the advice so many of us have heard on building financial savings - pay yourself first.  Wake up, and pay yourself first.  Not your email, not your facebook, not your laundry, not your dishes, not your cluttered table, not your children (gotta get up before them).  Pay.  Your. Self.  Take 10 minutes to sit, to lay down with headphones on and rock out, to dance in your basement, in your yard, to sing.  Get into your body.  Get into your mind.  Get into whole being.  Of course, you always are in your whole being - there is no where else to be.  There is only the thinking that you are somewhere else.  Acknowledge that thinking, then let it float away like a cloud - allow sunshine to reveal itself.  Cast your first attentions on yourself rather than your things.  Don't keep yourself at arms length.  Get intimate (get in to mate) with yourself.  Love yourself.  Get into yourself.  From there, Life flows.  Let it flow FROM you, not around you or past you.

Love, Love, Shine On :-)