What Makes You Feel Alive?

I was sorting through my google drive this morning, and came across some writing of Dean’s. There were so many lessons we learned through his suffering. So many practices we put into place to make the most of the time we had together. Always keeping things on the bright side. I would often fire questions off to him or give him homework assignments when I saw things looking down. Dean was a little dark if you let him slip. With time against usI felt it imperative to keep focused on what could make us most happy. Here’s a good one: a bit of his writing, and a bit of my edit. Sort of like a ghostwriter in the realest sense of the term. I hope it brings a smile to those who miss him most and gives everyone else a sense intention on this summer like hump day in New Jersey. 

What makes me feel alive?

(Ok so let’s do it different. Not sure sure how many times I’ve said that but Nikki gave me an assignment so let’s try it)

I feel alive when:

Dropping in and a backhand Indo barrel at Ulus (I guess it’s finding your edge…the limit…when you are pushing the being alive part)

Surviving the next set of scans

Seeing the sun, feeling the sun, being in the ocean facing your fears

To feel alive. Facing your fears and challenging them. Know your physical limits – however that’s not your limiting factoryou’re only limiting factor are your excuses.

Being in California:

Things are green here (California) I like that. You can grow things in your yard and eat them. I like that. This happens all year long. I like that. 

They have all three seasons in one day. Just be prepared. 

Sitting in the kitchen with Nikki and Hil while they talk, cook and laugh. That makes me feel alive. The little things, Bearing witness to the moments. 

Setting expectations: realistic expectations and prioritizing what is most important:

“Dads are supposed to be brave. Consider the things you want to pass on to your kids.Set a good example. Promote honesty and ask if you don’t understand. Be kind and be strong! (strong like bull) try and hear more than say more, try to feel more and Pray some too.  – I worry I wont be able to instill all the lessons I want instill in the girls. Life is fleeting. Make a list. Face that truth – create action around it. That makes me feel alive. Intentional living.”

Seizing the moment: 

“New break. Love seaside Cardiff by the sea. Today had it all. Little rippers Jersey style and John was getting Gianna and Fia in on some bombing rights. As I sat with Nick grabbing this little left on the corner of the channel with a perfect view of the girls ripping down the line working on their backhand. They probably had 5 years of East Coast experience in two days. Wish I had a Go-pro for me it was fantastic to experience for real. For my girls this will probably not be as memorable as some future trip.”

These are the literal – alive which is a good start – and certainly are actual as they are personal challenges that allow us to learn about ourselves and what we do. 

In the past few days, I’ve had several people ask when I will get back to teaching yoga. My response has been : I’m not ready. I have no words. My yoga has been life these days as it actually always is. The practice of Yoga (Asana) arms us with the tools we need to face our everyday challenges. The work we do on our mat, we take into our lives. 

What Makes You Feel Alive? A question I will often raise while keeping a room in the most difficult pose : the long warrior holds (for those of you have have often been in my class) rooting down through your right big toe mound, widening your foot and peeling your arch from the floor. Grounding the blade of your left foot behind you, energizing you quads, softening your knees, dropping your shoulders, lengthening your neck, while staring down your right middle finger and growing your arms by an inch or three.

Facing Adversity. Reminding ourselves what we’re up to. 

What Makes You Feel Alive? 

 

 

…on the power of words

As yoga teachers, for the most part, we deliver our lessons form what we have experienced. Both physically in our body through our asana practice translating from our bones to yours on the mat as well as through sharing, through listening to our students – seeing them – and holding space for them when they need it. We teach anatomy, we teach philosophy, we teach the sutras and ahimsa. At GGY we teach from the heart.

In our Teacher Training Program we shine the flashlight, for each of our Leaders – to illuminate what we have seen in ourselves, to walk them down the path of healing, of discovering and allow them to shed, to let go, to heal. To close chapters and begin anew without the heavy hearted baggage from the past. They learn to stand powerfully, wholly, unwavering, amongst one of the most unconditional communities I know.  It’s a choice we all have, it’s right there in front of us, but sometimes we can’t see through the muck. This work, along with traditional curriculum has uncovered uninhibited voices, that speak from the heart. Their filters are clear, they can see from love – versus pain, or fear, or whatever was blocking their sun. Once you are exposed to that light, there’s no turning back. It’s a way of life, self inquiry, a process. I promise you in this type of living #themagicneverends. We are never done, never enlightened, never perfect – no matter how many a-ha moments we have. There’s always more thank God, there’s always more. This year in GGY Teacher Training – the work you all did – well it “did me’

The last several weeks, I’ve been working from home – in a sense, on my own personal healing and discovery. It’s been messy, tearful, and it’s been a huge wake up call for me and what I need in my life. I’ve stepped away from the studios, from my hobbies, rolled up my mat and just sat in it. stewed. I found solace in a very selected few, walked in circles, numbed out and just got stuck. Crazy how one can still manage to have fun in all of that, right?

I’ve heard somewhere in psychology that when you lose a spouse in any way, divorce, death, whatever – all the things they “fixed” in you, all the wounds they healed, reopen and ooze forth tenfold. Gaping holes waiting to be plugged. From this place we seek relationships that validate, overcommit to feel needed, and often find motivation in approval. It’s a dark road, it’s exhausting and typically ends with me feeling unfulfilled. I’ve fought for things that I thought would fix it, pointed fingers, assumed – or didn’t, and still I was coming up empty.

Until I saw it. Until I heard myself begging for the same thing, as I had in my lifetime before. “You are important. You are good enough. You are valued. You make a difference” Sometimes it’s as simple as that. Why can’t we see it in ourselves?

One of the biggest gifts I have ever gotten in my life, came in the unexpected form of Dean’s Eulogy. Not a surprise, Peter is a magnificent writer and spent years making sure it was right. In his own grief, he somehow found the courage to convey something Dean never could. All these years later, he assured me how much I was loved. I’ve read it over and over, trying to “get flat” with all that he said – as if that is even possible. It’s a gift bigger than flowers, more valuable than diamonds and speaks louder than a million songs. Those words will carry me forever.

Danielle LaPorte posted a video last week – a Father’s Day commercial of sorts. It came with urgency, and to me was a no brainer of a practice we should take on in all aspects of our life. Not just with our fathers, but with every single person we love. “What do you love about me? How do I make you proud?” Watch it – go ahead, try not to cry. I dare you. Then wipe away those tears, make a call, write a letter, or better yet do it in person. Use your words, for God’s sake, use your words.

I have so many thoughts on marriage and relationships, having built one for so many years. They are work, they are worth it and sometimes they are the catalyst for digging deeper to get to the root. The best ones are honest, and are trusting, and able to hold up to the surface dirt, until you can see through the muck. Funny, because they don’t really need the words – in your heart you know, yet somehow we still long to hear them.

I thank God for my people, who listen endlessly – to my talking. To my work and my working it out. I thank God for relationships that come when you need them, that don’t judge, and just let you be. For people who really know me, and no matter how many times I look for that rescue, keep me neck deep in doing the work. To the I miss you’s and the I love you’s I hear you and thank you. This life is a crazy road for sure.

In these a-ha moments I can see the light. I can begin to uncover the why behind the things that I do. I can acknowledge them, connect the dots with them and then release them from my being. I can break cycles, and share lessons, so that others can do the same. I can be the catalyst for the conversation. The reminder that gratitude unspoken is wasted and that if we all stop playing games, holding grudges, holding out and ask for what we need – use our words. Life can be so much better.

Lately my own words are coming back, all the lessons remembered. I’m beginning to feel my light once again. Life is all here in front of me, I know it and I’ll be back at it again for sure. Most poignantly today, as I am closing in quickly on this 43rd year I know this: I am important I am valued I make a difference I am a teacher and the best thing, I know I am loved.

Monday, Monday…

0b712aee4e58799c5702168fd62d7f66This one really struck me today. Nothing like a rainy Monday at a clean desk, after a full weekend of exactly what I love to get me in thinking. Plus my writing playlist is just rediculous. Actually I think it might’ve started sitting on Lea’s counter Thursday night, either way.

The New Year seems to have brought me a deeper sense of grounding and longer moments of “I think I just might be OK, I may survive this.” Although at times, it feels like new levels of grief, but in very short bursts, so that’s an improvement. It’s hard to fathom that a year and a half later this is all still unfolding.

Christmas was a process. A constant up and down, for all of us. We survived, had some magnificent surprises, and have a clearer picture of how to approach all that holiday stuff moving forward. I sent half the cards that I intended to this season, so if you didn’t get one, I either don’t know any part of your address by memory, or you are in the last third of the alphabet. That was something that went out the window with Dean’s diagnosis, the urgency and need to do everything “right” at Christmastime, and although it’s left a stack on my desk, it’s a welcomed change for sure.

The last few months I’ve learned to know when it’s real grief versus getting stuck. I can say with surety, when it’s real, its real. I’m just trying to figure out what to take from those moments, other than the energy moving through my body. Maybe that’s what it is to feel someone’s presence. It’s been the biggest gift of my yoga practice lately, an intuitive tunnel – straight to the other side. Crazy really.

I understand what’s nurturing feel good, versus escape – which I can see would be a very slippery slope to most, it’s an easily blurred line. I am blessed to be surrounded with a family of people, who let me go, and reel me back in. It’s something Dean was very very good at. Letting me flutter – a much appreciated super power.

Fairytale Land is great, the running and traveling, front row, late nights, silly summer outside dinners, beach days way past sundown, and yoga for days on end. Everything that I do to FEEL alive. I love that world, and I am a champion of justification, so there’s that. But Reality has been pretty OK lately too. This weekend in particular – lots of down time, kid time, cleaning out, dinner, music, gathering our beautiful teachers, breaking bread and a wonderfully “normalish” sunday complete with meatballs, football, good people and the Golden Globes in bed with my shorties. Glimpses of possibility and a familiar ease to life – a balance between my many worlds. home.

I’ve had the space to connect and reconnect with so many, slowly, easing my way back in to the swing of things. Back to the more familiar me. Thank you for your love and patience. Really truly, I don’t know what I would do without you. It’s been an incredible journey.

Heading into this year with my feet on the ground a bit. It feels good. My big focus for the first quarter will be developing the studio, our Fishtown Community and an excellence of balance with the girls (which right now feels like some concentrated travel time, somewhere sunny, sometime soon) more writing and more reading, replacing the heater and finishing the dining room. Funny list, right? It seems I am moving forward with a greater understanding that something new is being born, for all of us – and it feels nice.

Looking forward to many good days to come, and truly wishing you all a New Year filled with magic. May even your rainy days be bright. x

My Maserati Does One Eighty Five…

mazerati

Even if you don’t have an end date – rest assured its not as much time as you want – so up the ante, and get moving on those dreams.  Our life is now accelerated whether we want it to be or not, personally, I would vote for a much slower relaxed pace, but apparently my vote doesn’t count. Life on life’s terms, it’s a real practice – equanimity.

Our life will always be affected by the treatment schedule. Sophia is right in saying, “if Dad didn’t have cancer we certainly would have more time.” but that’s not the case, so we go on and figure out how to fit it all in.  Our family’s pace may catch you by surprise, vacations and memories squeezed in to the increasingly shorter school breaks, out for music on a week night, yoga at 5:45am, work, play, band practice, chemo, coaching, games – somehow we fit it all in, seemingly creating more hours in the day. (We actually hope it becomes contagious!)

Remember, there’s no law against accelerating. Take the opportunity to use All 12 Cylinders of that Maserati to get yourself going 80. Push that excitement, the adrenaline – balance it with the speed limit, and right there alone, you create an experience. (hopefully not one of flashing lights or handcuffs) then, once you’ve reached your thrill, or run out of gas –  rest, rinse and repeat.

Top on our list is traveling around the world. As parents we put that out there – homeschool the kids, work around the world for a year, visit friends, make friends, go surfing, do yoga, write a book, experience life – what could be better? Not impossible!  Well  – then we have the speed limit. That turns out to be the unpredictable piece, you know – when the highway ends and you come to what seems like a screeching halt, from a nice 65 to 25 in a school zone?

I was hoping February 12th was going to put me on easy street for at least six months, maybe a whole year, but no. “Let’s tie you down and throw some protons you for seven weeks.”  (Maserati screeching to a stop – flashing lights, pulled over)  World tour on hold and we’re required to land in Haddonfield. Dad has treatment. Time to reset the schedule, add in seven weeks and carry on, continuing to dream, and plan, and figure how in the heck we can actually pull this off??!!  We’re confident, that if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen for sure. It’s a good start, California, and we’re counting the days. 18 days until sunshine, warm air, friends like family, kids in teepees, waves to ride, good laughs, bright smiles, and a much needed recharge, before those protons knock me down – before this flight is grounded, just a bit.

What’s on your list? What are your dreams? Where can you let go of things that are taking up time and create more room for living? We’d love to hear all about them! If there’s anything we’ve taken from this, its the lessons of risk taking, list making and creating time and space for what we love.  Now get out there and get going – before that clock ticks on any further.

xxN&D