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Why is waiting so hard? This is what happens when we rewire our brains to slow down

As yogis, we have a reputation for being cool, calm and collected, but how realistic is this when everyone around us is rushing around, ears glued to their cell phones?

Before the internet, we used to write letters. Letters are so different than IMs or texts. They take time to write. They take time to send.

Then there’s the envelope, a stamp, finding a mailbox and remembering to bring the letter with you when you leave the house.

And once it’s sent, your words wait in undelivered limbo. They land at an unknown time and mystery encases the arrival of a response.

Letter writing is so rich in romance and deep connection — maybe because the waiting invites learning and challenge.

I’ve always been hyper-efficient with lots on the go. So by extension, I kind of sucked at waiting.

I realized this living in Spain in my early 20s, when I worked as an English teacher. I wanted to travel after university, but couldn’t afford it, so my solution was finding a host of travel jobs.

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At first, working in Salamanca, Esp. was a huge struggle because my students would show up late — every single time.

If I was meeting them at their home, I would arrive to find them in no way ready. I would awkwardly wait while they brushed their teeth (at 11 a.m.!), or ate their breakfast or lunch.

One day, I waited 90 minutes in a cafe for one of my students — Laura.

After one hour I started to get mad.

“So disrespectful,” I thought to myself.

Thinking back, it was so ethnocentric to judge “early” as “better.”

This was a time before cell phones, so despite being annoyed, I kept waiting. I couldn’t risk losing the future classes.

When Laura finally arrived, she had a big smile on her face.

“Hola! Que tal?”

“Hi, how are you?” she asked, sitting down like it was nothing!

I was flabbergasted, and that’s when I realized this impatience was mine to hold — not Laura’s or any of my “disrespectful” students.

Myobsession with timelinesswas cultural and I had something to learn.

I realized on that day that I needed to refresh the meaning of the word “wait” entirely. I had to start seeing it as time won, instead of time lost.

Rather than worrying about losing time waiting for the subway, or a late train, I had the power to consciously view the wait, as bonus time — a chance to read a book, write in my journal or even practice on-board airplane chair yoga.

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The lesson I learned in that Spanish cafe was such a hugely potent one for me. To this day, I still can’t shake my Canadian punctuality, but instead of being annoyed, I try my best to approach waiting as a bonus.

Once I started being able to see “waiting” for what it is, I felt empowered.

Picture yourself lying in savasana, knowing that the day awaits, ready to start the moment you hear that “namaste.”

As teachers, we see it in the bodies — all tight, wound up and waiting for a sound that signifies someone else is moving, so they can too leap off their mat.

We try to help by reminding people of the beauty of savasana — a chance to let go and let live.

Nowadays, doing nothing is a challenge, but once we become OK with it, we can allow that emptiness into our life in a positive way — wee may even have time to practice the long lost Socratic practice of…thinking.

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What deeper learning is there really?

Is there anything better than getting in-tuned with your body, mind and spirit?

That moment you realize you’re not waiting for savasana to end; you’re letting yourself fall back into the shimmering glow of undefined mystery.

Jimmy Cliff wrote a song that was covered by Jerry Garcia, Willie Nelson and countless others:

“Sitting here in limbo
Waiting for the tide to flow…
Well, they’re putting up resistance
But I know that my faith will lead me on.”

Then there’s Tom Petty:

:The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you get one more yard
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part.”

Why are we, humans, writing songs about waiting?

Well, maybe it’s because waiting is like love — filled with undeniable curiosity about the unknown.

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So, the next time you find yourself waiting, consider asking yourself this: Could I be letting go right now? How can I better take in the wholeness of life?

I feel so motivated to explore the obligatory wait times in life, and I’d love to work alongside anyone willing to ride the highs, the lows, and the in-betweens with me.

When we embrace “the wait” as a chance to be still, as the bright light behind the setting sun, we can then face the next challenge head-on with a readiness to forge forward with solutions.

— be peace, Jess

10 tips to ace your New Year’s Resolutions

 

I’m guessing that statistically we’re more likely to be hit by lightning than we are to stick to our New Year’s resolution, yet the ritual of reviewing and renewing our resolve is so great.

I started a new tradition for my own resolutions. I’m renaming them practices.

We can’t fail at practicing, right? But we can fail at a resolution.

Basically, I’m hoping to increase the odds. But for real, framing a resolution as something we have to do is always a disastrous set up.

Practice is something we can pick up any time without threading it through self-judgement or the limited pinhole dichotomy of accomplished or unaccomplished.

My practice in 2018 is asking questions about things I care about deeply. By asking questions to myself, and others, I hope to open new dialogue and learn.

My first question is: How can I practice community?

There are unlimited articles on how to improve our practice of yoga postures, or asanas.

Why not magnify our focus on community? I’ve seen over the years in my own asana practice that learning is more rich and meaningful when I am actively engaged in community.

Here are 10 ways to practice community support this year:

1. Receiving

Oh, we sure know how to give, right? We’re givers. We’re yoga lovers and we’re chasing peace.

We’re the first to call “back middle” instead of “shotgun” just to, you know, be a giver.

I’m wondering why it’s easier to give so freely and yet so hard to receive.

Can we practice humility and recognize that all good teachers and students, ask for help.

2. Listen carefully

Author Tim Ferris developed his interview technique by watching his favourite journalists conduct interviews.

He noticed that all of the best, Oprah included I noticed, waited a seemingly unbearable time after a question was answered.

Three or four full seconds would lapse, and then miraculously a gem seemed to emerge.

After hearing this I tried it and watched it work while teaching philosophy at the teacher trainings, or even in conversations with friends.

When we give the speaker a little more space, the thesis arrives, brainstormed at the source, edited internally.

Wisdom is polished by silence.

3. Commitment

New York Times writer and author Anand Giridharadas once said:

“I think what’s happened to us is that we’re not committed to each other as a people, so it’s almost like we are in this kind of situation where any disappointment that we encounter in our fellow citizens is like a reason to break up, and any deviation from deeply fulfilling each other as fellow citizens is like a tragedy.

“And part of commitment as a citizen is embracing other people’s dysfunction, and embracing other people’s incompleteness, because you know you have your own.”

Community isn’t only developed in our yoga families, we cultivate it in our school groups, at the water cooler at work, in relationships — anywhere we want to say “‘F’ you, I’m, out of here” if something doesn’t go our way.

I’d like to practice community support unceasingly, and weed my assumptions about others before they take seed and overpower the growth of the good stuff.

4. Forgiveness

I’m Canadian so I wait for a sorry when I feel a sorry is due. But it is so empowering to claim the processing that we need to do on our own instead of waiting for an external pardon.

It’s so damn liberating I wish I had figured it out earlier, and wish I could remember it more readily.

I’m still a fan of “I’m sorry,” but I’m not going to wait for it for a change in my own mental or emotional well being.

And I will always — and only when it is safe of course — give a second and third chance.

Also, the more I see anger or stubbornness arise in myself or students, friends, or family, the more I see that anger traces a straight line back to hurt, usually, especially when anger is habitual, it’s old hurt.

Remembering unseen wounds from mothers, fathers or whomever sure does make it easier to forgive.

5. Believe in magic

Sometimes we practice yoga in its wholeness. Yoga has eight limbs: yama, niyama, asana, pranayama, pratyahara, dharana, dhyana, aamadhi.

Sometimes we practice its parts, like breathing consciously (pranayama), sitting in meditation (dharana) or exploring in postures (asana).

In yoga’s wholeness or in its parts, we bear witness to healing, a feeling of deep union, magnificent positive change, vulnerability and other such magic.

Glimpses of understanding our connection with all things, samadhi, arises as an exhausted single mother walks out of the studio renewed knowing she is not alone.

Cultivating magic means cultivating a don’t-know mind, knowing that mystery abounds and magic is happening around us.

When I’m doubting magic or mystery I’ll schedule myself for a walk in the densest forest I can find, with a quiet mind, and notifications off.

6. Groundedness

Community, especially in a highly caffeinated, overworked, digital age, requires grounding. Full stop.

As you become popular or successful in any somewhat public way, we become vulnerable to projection.

Projection starts with great love but can darken at the speed of light if the slightest misstep or unintentionally hurtful word is offered directly or in passing; a completely innocent email/Facebook comment can turn into viral vitriol.

We were called out publicly on social media on a very well “liked” post for using the word “Moksha,” a sacred concept and turning it into a “corporate giant business.”

It threw Ted and I for a huge loop. First, for having potentially hurt anyone with our choice of the name “Moksha” (our name before Modo) as it came from a place of deep honouring and respect, and second for being called a corporate giant.

It would be easy to get defensive. Instead we sat quietly and took it all in. We are still taking it in.

We grounded down rather than acting out.

I want to do that more.

In community, something you say will be misinterpreted at some point, and if this misunderstanding happens publicly and/or in the digital realm, it can be incredibly destabilizing if you let it be.

But, if you know who you are, and you are grounded in your ideals, and you are living in truth your roots will hold you.

In the yoga tradition living in truth is called satya.

When was I was growing up learning from my teacher Baba Hari Das I always thought of satya as “telling the truth” or listening for the truth. It is this as well.

But Satya is also living in truth. It is a very grounding practice. Let’s support each other in finding our roots and nourishing them.

7. Compassion

Trauma is multifaceted, complex and for the most part invisible.

I tell a story at the Modo Yoga teacher trainings to illustrate that “you never know.”

I share a poignant moment when I was teaching a class and a student seemed to roll his eyes at everything I’d say.

I kept thinking, “Man, why does he hate me so much?” At the end of the class I took a breath, conjured up compassion and asked him if I could give him a hug.

He said yes.

After the hug he said, “Thanks. Right before this class I cremated my mother.”

Yes, he looked bitter and angry. Yes, he wasn’t “nice” at the sign-in. He was so very sad. And his lack of friendliness sure had nothing to do with me.

Making assumptions is so human, so easy, and so dangerous.

There is no better place to source our habitual illusory assumptions than in community.

Knowing that hurt is hidden and appears in unlimited ways seems to help me find compassion.

8. Change

Every Wednesday for the past six years or so, I’ve met with our Modo International team.

We’re a group of eight 500-hour certified yoga teachers who all wear about 10 hat a week.

Last month, Angela, our communications leader, wisely suggested that we change the colours that represent our personal agenda cells in our team meeting spreadsheet.

I found the change so hard, even though I loved the idea of change.

I was used to my old colour, and for the record it wasn’t even a colour I liked all that much. And yet, after another week, poof, change forgotten.

For some, all change is difficult, and for others change is just plain fun.

Change is hard, and yet it is constant. And in community we get to practice change.

We get to witness change as we practice it in every aspect of the yoga. We see change as the start of every transformation.

9. Take action

If you’re pissed off about something, one great place to take action is here, in community.

If you don’t like something about your work community, this community, the global community, then take action to make it change.

If I don’t like the way people plant trees in most carbon offset communities, then it’s my responsibility to find or create something better.

Any time I hinge into blame I see an opportunity to claim, take a breath, act, and change.

The best news is that we’re all here to support each other. We are only activists if we act, and there are unlimited ways to act.

Unlimited ways to call for justice, speak for peace, and act for the health of the earth.

10. Make the circle bigger

We can always be more inclusive. I attend a bi-weekly women’s circle with my neighbours.

When a mom who was putting her kids to bed at the start time, arrived late last week, the circle just naturally opened.

When I witnessed this a couple nights ago, while thinking about you all, this big sweaty community, and this list letter, I thought, “this is what we get to practice in community: making the circle bigger.”

I recall the first studio that created a gender neutral washroom and change space.

I remember the student that first arrived to a class with a prosthetic foot, or speaking American Sign Language.

Welcome we say as we lean in, adjust, learn and shift to engender access.

Diversity arrives, and we shift left, shift right to make the circle bigger.

I hope to practice into the best year we’ve had as a community. Want to do that together?

Let’s practice community support as a way to remember that there is no change too large when support arrives from all directions in sangha.

Let’s rock 2018 for the earth and those whose voices remain on the margins.

Let’s practice and learn and share support in every community we inhabit and share.

Let’s take it all back onto our mats with love and respect for our bodies, our minds, and our spirits.

— so grateful to share this practice, Jess

10 things all travelling yogis need to know

This morning, I woke up a new part of the Canada, in a new home, and after practicing a little Reiki and meditation in a new bed, I wandered into a new kitchen.

I tried to make myself tea. I looked for mugs first, obviously, right?

Mugs. Basic. Every house should have mugs.

I looked through all the kitchen cupboards. No mugs. Sigh.

But, this being the house of a yoga studio owner, there are tons and tons of mason jars-cum-cups so I settle for tea from a jar.

We can be flexible about theses things, yes?

I have had many, many mornings like this in the past two years. New house. Wake up. Where am I? Oh right, I’m in X town, staying with Y friend/family member/friends of friends.

How do I get going today? What are the days’ priorities? What am I doing?

There is no routine, no set schedule, no boss to report to. I set the routine, I set the schedule, I report to me.

No matter where I am, the morning almost always consists of a set routine of teeth-brushing, meditation, breakfast, tea, yoga practice, then on to who-knows-what.

This day in particular began very well; there was a beautiful warm light filtering into the cluttered bedroom in which I was sleeping, no one was home but the family dog and there were more funny cat videos on Facebook than usual.

These elements set a light tone in my heart for meditation.

I’ve progressively become more and more skilled at being a backpack-bound, traveling person; I’ve learned many many things while on the road.

Here are 10 lessons from a vagabond yogi:

  1. Always pack lighter than I think I need. I have to carry what I take with me on my back.I literally have to bear the weight of it all and that super sucks when I’m tired (metaphor for life?).If I need something a) it will magically appear when I need it, b) someone will lend it to me, or c) we live in a world where you can almost always get everything you need within a day — so I can go buy it.

    I do not carry around the ‘just in case’ stuff just in case. Unless it’s rain gear and I’m traveling in B.C. That’s stuff’s non-negotiable.

  2. Always pack essential health foods that I don’t-really-need-but-make-me-feel-awesome.I didn’t do this while traveling in India and I paid the price.

    I now always travel with vitamins, matcha tea, superfood trail mix and superfood powders for smoothies.

    I will no longer settle for letting my body kind of OK. Nobody wins when my health is strained.

  3. I will always be OK. Really truly.Things go south all the time, and I am still ok. Plans go up in flames usually to make room for other equally awesome plans.

    Just because the universe has my back, it doesn’t mean I will always get my way.

  4. People are incredibly generous and want to help me. This fact still gets me every time I live it.People will feed me, clothe me, offer me more than I need, and ask for nothing in return. People can be saintly.

    The flip side to this is do not judge a person by how they look. Look deeper.

    They will always turn out more interesting, kind, compassionate, loving, generous than I originally assumed.

  5. My default mode is to be social, but it’s not the only way to recharge.I need alone time too and just because I am staying in someone else’s home doesn’t mean that I have to hang out with them all the time.

    If I need to fly solo for a bit to recharge, I can know that that’s fine. No one wins if I’m a grouchy pants.

  6. I am responsible for knowing, being aware of, and maintaining my boundaries.
    Warning: astrology reference. Being a water sign (Cancer!) I can be emotional, and those emotions tell me a lot of awesome info that I am maybe not conscious of otherwise.It’s my job to wake up and feel the feelings. No one else is gonna do that for me.
  7. I have enough money. Always. Period. I have known tight-pocketed-times, but again, prosperity always comes. I can afford healthy food.I can afford to take the bus if my body is beat. I can buy people thank-you gifts (no Dom Perignon here, but something sweet like flowers or maybe, for this house I’m staying in right now, mugs!)

    In fact, it brings more wealth to be generous with my money.

  8. This whole hair-brained plan of traveling and teaching will not work if I am not trusting my gut.If the idea “I want to travel and teach for about three years” makes my eyes light up and tummy flip, then it’s a good idea.
  9. If after a few minutes after having that idea, I hear the mental chatter about why it won’t work out and I feel myself retracting like a turtle backing into its shell away from the vision, I have to turn to those fear-based feelings (because, no, they don’t get to run the show) and hold their hands and keep stepping forward.
  10. None of this is possible without the unbelievable support, enthusiasm, and hardwork big-heartedness of the Modo community.These plans are fabulous to dream up, scary as hell to put into motion, and unbelievably enriching to live out-loud.

    I often refer to this community as my spirit family. This is a group of people who understand, encourage, and help me to realize my life vision.

    I can show up in all my colours, shades and hues of personality and they still love me.

You’ll hear more from me as I delve into this journey of traveling, teaching, and running social media for Modo Yoga.

I feel pretty lucky to be able to share a piece of my life with you.

— big love, Kat