On the phone this morning, I mentioned to my sister that I'm often anxious about going to new yoga studios. Truth be told, I'm nervous going back to my home studio whenever I've been away for a bit.

"So what?" said my sister, "I'm afraid before every class."

I called her back just now to ask about that, and we chatted for 30 minutes about when and why nervousness is a part of yoga life for both of us.

I don't hear much from yogaland about this. You write, mostly, saying you're more comfortable on your mats in yoga class than anywhere else.

That isn't true for me. I'm most comfortable on my mat at home. I'd stay there forever if my practice didn't skew over time into 48 Sun Salutations followed by bits and pieces of favorite and not-too-challenging asanas. In fact, I'd be content with that happy skew if my low back, hips, knees, and general spirit weren't so vocal in wanting more.

Are you nervous about class, ever?

I feel it when I contemplate going. I feel it as I drive to class. I feel it as I roll out my mat and as the others roll out mats around me. The second class begins, the tense gut disappears. I'm in love again.

My sister suspects her fear comes from competitiveness (she should be levitating in full lotus by now, she says) and a feeling that she must outperform herself each time, that it isn't enough to just show up and do what her body would like. Some days her body doesn't want to do much.

My discomfort involves a judgment about my body, my sturdiness, about looking like a pudgy 13-year-old, something i was hoping to have moved beyond by the age of 49.  It's a wish to be somewhere other than here and now.  I see the ridiculousness of it, but it doesn't stop the discomfort.

This week I'm grateful for looking at this clenched gut. It isn't new, it's just been hiding somewhere while I practiced at home all winter.

Can you identify? No? I'd love to hear, either way.

Thanks to yoga (I think) for sticking with me while I run from and return to all these bits of self. Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr. Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web, on Facebook, on Twitter, and on iTunes.

Posted by Kristin Shepherd at 7:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (33) | TrackBacks (0)

On Tuesday I mentioned going to my first Kundalini class at a new-to-me studio in Toronto.

It'd been a while since I'd been to any class at all. The buzz it left me with was enough to bring me back the next day for an Ashtanga class. With Havovi.

I have adored every yoga teacher who has ever crossed my path. Every one of them has been supportive, kind, warm, and in love with yoga.

Now and then I meet a teacher who rattles me at a time when a good rattling is what I'm looking for. Havovi is one of these.

The class was perfect. Hard enough to sweat a river. Not so hard that I wanted to escape or collapse in a heap. It found an edge that made me want to laugh. I had to work at not laughing.

And over and over, looking right at me (I'll bet everyone felt she was staring at them), she said, "Ashtanga has an incorrect reputation for being competitive. This is your practice, and the practice is about your breath. First and foremost, breathe. The rest will take care of itself. Whatever you can do, do. Whatever you cannot do, accept."

I may be paraphrasing slightly. A mild delirium had spread by now through my body and brain.

I'm not sure what happened. Perhaps I placed myself in her care by being in her class. Perhaps I was just ready. Perhaps she's crazily intuitive and a shaman as much as a yoga teacher. Who knows? But her words about breath and about acceptance found their way to some place that my self-talk hasn't reached lately during home practice. Something good opened up inside my chest. Something that makes me feel better about myself. I don't know any more than that, except that whatever it is hasn't closed yet.

I think I'm ready to be a student again.

Thanks to yoga for being there when I want to chart my own course and for being there when I'm ready for beautiful teachers. Thanks, thanks to Havovi at Bliss Yoga Studio in Toronto.

Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr. Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web, on Facebook, on Twitter, and on iTunes.

Posted by Kristin Shepherd at 9:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

In meditation circles, Kundalini yoga has a big-girl-on-the-block reputation. Something about Kundalini yoga, at least in theory, lends itself to meditation, altered states of consciousness, and bliss.

Wikipedia says this: Practitioners call Kundalini yoga,the yoga of awareness because they claim it directly affects human consciousness, develops intuition, increases self knowledge, and unleashes the unlimited creative potential that exists within every human being.

Who doesn't want to unleash unlimited creative potential?

Armed with this information and nothing more, I dropped into a Kundalini class this week in Toronto.

I was nervous. So was my brother-in-law Clay.

We're both Ashtanga fans, and we didn't know what to expect. (I'm nervous with every new class. In fact, I'm nervous at my own studio whenever I've been away for a bit. If you have any tips on how to get over this, I'm all ears.)

Adding to my nervousness was the fact that I hadn't planned on doing a class, so I was dressed in my clown-stripe pajamas, heavy clogs, and the t-shirt I'd slept in. I looked as though I'd just made a hasty escape from an institution of some kind, an escape so hasty there had been no time to find street clothes let alone yoga wear.

We hyperventilated our way toward the studio like a pair of shifty-eyed bank robbers. It's a miracle they let us in.

Lesley, a vision of radiant health, dressed in white (is this a Kundalini colour? I don't know), welcomed us as though bank robbers were the mainstay of her practice.

We began with some lovely chanting, and headed straight into the breath of fire. Do you know the breath of fire? It's a Kundalini thing. Rapid, forceful exhalations followed by automatic inhalations. Earlier this year I tried it on my own, limiting myself to a minute at a time. More than this, my sources say, and you might make yourself dizzy. I'm able to coordinate my breath and abdomen for about 20 seconds at a time. After that, everything goes off the rails into erratic breath and no discernible relationship between breath and body. A steam engine gone berserk.

In Lesley's class, we never really stopped the breath of fire. She continued it through almost every pose, including a series of core-strengthening moves that taught me I have no core to speak of.

Enough. If you're a Kundalini fan, I don't mean to offend with my ignorance. If you don't know Kundalini any more than I do, I'll say this:

I'm completely intrigued. It wasn't familiar. It wasn't particularly comfortable. But there was a sense that my energy might be mobilized in a new way with this breath and these asanas. I sensed a connection between body and bliss that felt promising.

This morning I ordered a few Kundalini DVDs so that I can give it a whirl in my basement.

Are you a Kundalini fan? Can you enlighten us? What do you love about it?

Thanks to Lesley at Bliss Yoga Studio in Toronto. Thanks to Clay for getting me there. Thanks to yoga for being 1,000 different things, and thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr. Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web, on Facebook, on Twitter, and on iTunes.

Posted by Kristin Shepherd at 9:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (0)

We're a cranky household this week. Neither one of us has done our morning practice for four days. They have been four long, long days.

My lovely man's been working and, well, I don't know what else. I've been doing late nights in the theatre and feel as though my circadian rhythms, which include waking at 3:30 or 4am, will never return to normal.

Pat walks by me two or three times a day with his hand on his low back, moaning, "yoga, yoga, yoga."

Come to think of it, my low back's a bit wonky too, despite the fact that my pre-show warm up every evening is basically a shortened yoga practice. What gives?

What gives is that I prefer the full meal deal. I love the dark, the early hour, the full practice, the savasana, and my meditation. My low back and every other part of me wants the stretch, the warm strength moves, the standing balances, the back bends, the spinal twists, not to mention the focus, the acceptance of what is, the self-love, and the love for the day. The full morning gift to myself.

Can you identify?

So don't call, don't write. Tonight I'm going to bed early, and I'm getting up at four.

I'll be a much happier woman the next time we chat.

Thanks to yoga for being such a demanding friend. Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr. Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web, on Facebook, on Twitter, and on iTunes.

Posted by Kristin Shepherd at 4:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

First of all, thanks very much for the approximately 26 billion pieces of mail you sent after I posted a short blog about the cost of yoga classes. It may take me a while to get back to each of you on that one.

It seems it's a contentious subject.

The mail indicates we're far more conflicted about money than we are about yoga. No one wrote saying, "I have piles of money but I can't stand yoga." It was all about how much we love class and would like to go more often. How lovely is that?

Your mail made me wonder something. We know that yoga spills into every little bit of life: into relationships, food, career, parenting, political choices, etc.

Has yoga affected your relationship to money?

I suppose yoga has strengthened my impression that money is energy, and that the healthy flow of money into and out of my life has to do with the health (or not) of my own energy, of my confidence, my resistance, my fear, my flexibility and strength.

That's one new yogini's thought. What's yours?

Thanks to yoga for showing up everywhere. Thanks to you, always, for the wonderful conversation,

kristin

Dr. Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web, on Facebook, on Twitter, and on iTunes.

Posted by Kristin Shepherd at 9:18 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

Can we talk about the money thing? Last week, someone wrote saying it was a terrible shame that yoga costs so much money and that the superstar teachers charge huge sums for their classes. Yoga should be free, he suggested.

I don't get it. Maybe I'm missing one of the eight branches or one of the gazillion sub-branches (twigs?) of yoga theory. Maybe you know something I don't.

Here are my two cents:

1. Yoga can be free. With a computer, TV, or even a library card, we can do all the yoga we want at home at no cost. How lucky are we?

2. Yoga teachers, like the rest of us, like to eat and sleep on beds and take care of their children. Don't they need to be paid in order to do that?

3. Beyond the necessities idea, isn't it lovely to imagine yoga teachers earning wonderful, flowing streams of money teaching us something wonderful? What a perfect way to live your life!

4. Why would superstar teachers not charge super fees? That way, those who love to hang out and learn from superstars can, and those who don't value the same thing can go to regularly priced classes or to the computer, where I'll bet they can watch superstars teach for nada.

Perhaps something else is going on. I wonder whether those of us who feel abundant and confident with money bring that confidence to this subject, and whether those of us who carry feelings of scarcity, resentment, and powerlessness toward money bring our feelings to this discussion. Just a guess. I'd love to hear your feelings.

Thanks to yoga for shining its persistent light into all kinds of nooks and crannies, and thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr. Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web, on Facebook, on Twitter, and on iTunes.

Posted by Kristin Shepherd at 9:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (57) | TrackBacks (0)

Off-the-mat yoga became real to me this week. I don't mean lovely things are happening that might indirectly be connected to my yoga and meditation practices. I mean that I am witnessing significant, substantial changes in life that feel directly connected to my morning practice. 

We're in the middle of a theatre production involving late nights, mornings that are less than perky, half-hearted physical practice, and groggy meditations.

Nonetheless, I am amazed at how personal practice has shaped who I am off the mat and in the theatre.

Here are the most noticeable changes:

1. Calmness in the face of disaster. We have an actor-cat, Otis, who decided this week that he is a free agent. Two nights ago he slipped from his harness, mid-scene, and escaped an entire backstage crew while his poor scene partner ad libbed on stage in his absence ("I have a cat here somewhere. I do!"). I sat backstage and breathed deeply, knowing everything would be all right. We considered the whole thing a one-off until Otis escaped again last night. A year ago I would have sworn a blue streak and stopped breathing altogether. A year ago I would have fantasized about stringing Otis up by his wayward paws. This calmness is very strange.

2. My preparation for stage (think of yours for public presentations, interviews, weddings, and funerals) used be a kind of mental Olympic event that involved winding up, going over and over lines, recreating elaborate emotional states, and trying unsuccessfully to calm my nervousness. The result was that I wasn't really present by the time I walked on stage.

   All I do now is relax into my body, warm my voice, breathe fully, and trust. The resulting focused calm as I walk on stage is a miracle.

3. Every night is a first. Forget the cat. Forget the people who love our work, the people who don't, and the insecurities that rear their pathetic heads. Forget the people in the front row who chatted loudly all the way through last night's performance ("Oh, look at her dress! I had a dress like that once. Maybe that is my dress!"). Let the hostages go. There is no point in letting yesterday hijack today's energy.

   I knew this one in my head before. Now my body knows it.

Breathe when things get challenging, relax and trust, and now is all there is. Off-the-mat yoga. It's working. Yoga is having its way with me. It's like something blooming in unexpected places. And holy moly, it feels good.

What have you seen off the mat?

Thanks to yoga for changing everything. Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr. Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web, on Facebook, on Twitter, and on iTunes.

Posted by Kristin Shepherd at 8:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

"This too shall pass." Sounds biblical. Wikipedia says no, that it first showed up in the writings of the Persian Sufi poets. This makes me whirling-dervish happy, being a huge fan of Hafiz and Rumi.

Other sources say it's credited to anyone from Abraham Lincoln to King Solomon. I'm surprised Nelson Mandela isn't on the list.

In Canada this week, we voted in a majority government that, well, the majority didn't ask for. (Our voting system is a long story.) The winner in my area won't be certain until a recount takes place this week. There was a 14-vote difference between first and second place.

And, oh, the commentary is loud, contentious, and personal!

For minutes, I swing with the intense feeling of it. Outrage! Panic! Discouragement. Hopelessness. Meanwhile, others are feeling joy, elation, power, new strength.

Then I begin my practice. By the time I reach my third Sun Salutation, all I hear in my head is, "This too shall pass."

I learn this every day on my mat. My body's struggles will pass. My body's thrills will pass. Same goes for the struggles and thrills of my relationships, my work, my community, and my country.

"This too shall pass" is my mantra on the mat this week.

Do you have one?

Thanks to yoga for perspective and for being there even when the rest of life feels a bit crazy.

Thanks to you, always, for the conversation,

kristin

Dr. Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web, on Facebook, on Twitter, and on iTunes.

Posted by Kristin Shepherd at 7:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (18) | TrackBacks (0)

We've just finished move-in weekend for the play I'm directing. Move in is horrendous. It involves long, long days of actors waiting hours longer than I'd predicted while lighting design people solve problems I don't understand and can't begin to explain to cast and crew who would rather stick forks in their eyes than have another half-hour delay. It involves brief, sometimes angry directives to the impatient and the tardy. ("Don't bully me," snapped an 80-year-old actor after I'd suggested she get her rear end out of bed and over to the theatre where we were waiting for her.) It involves regretting my angry directives and throwing myself back into the day over and over with patience and enthusiasm. It involves reworking facial scars that don't look right under stage lights, music and light cues to program and reprogram, a labor scene in which half the audience can see an actor's crotch, and on and on. It involves eating more sweet, puffy muffins in one day than is good for any human being.

It's probably no different that what many of you do at work every day.

Here's what I'm grateful for: Hours before this bedlam began, I was on my living room floor in Savasana, thinking, "Thank you, thank you, for everything that happens today." No matter how chaotic the day becomes, I will be back on my living room floor tomorrow morning, saying, "Thank you, thank you, for all of this."

It's because of this, I think, that I never feel lost in the chaos. The nuttiness feels temporary, superficial, and less jarring than it used to. It is something I'm doing, not something I am.

Has yoga given you this?

Thanks to yoga for telling me who I am every day. Thanks to the beautiful cast and crew I have the honor to work with, and thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr. Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web, on Facebook, on Twitter, and on iTunes.

Posted by Kristin Shepherd at 8:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)