Thought of the Day: Footwear

It’s been a little over a year since I purchased my first pair of Toms shoes; the red canvas ones. They are slowly beginning to show wear—the soles deteriorating, which is probably more my fault than anything as I tend to drag my feet a bit when wearing flat shoes.
One year in and they are a perfect fit, completely molded to my feet. After work, or any other high-heeled day, I throw off the sling-backs and slip on the Toms. They don’t really match with anything in my wardrobe, but I’m willing to clash knowing that just the very act of wearing these shoes inspires. I can’t think of one time that while pounding the pavement that I haven’t been stopped and asked about my funny looking slippers. “Are those TOMS?” they ask with a genuine nod of approval. “Why yes they are… and did you know that for every pair that is purchased another pair is given to a child in need?”
In fact, since Tom's conception in 2006 more than 50,000 pairs of shoes have been donated to children in South Africa.
Just think buying one pair of shoes is gifting a child with a pair of shoes. What a great way to give back. So, pass it forward. www.tomeshoes.com

photo credit: tomshoes.com

Like Breath for Water

It wasn’t until 70 minutes into my 90-minute practice that I realized I hadn’t sipped from my water more than twice. Ten minutes into the floor series and I hadn’t taken any of the opportunities to partake in the wetting of my lips. Well, technically they (my lips) were already wet…with sweat. I was dripping head to toe, and actually wasn’t really aware of it. I wasn’t really aware of anything. Yes, I slid and floated from posture to posture with the class, I even adjusted according to my instructor’s direction, but I never reached for my water bottle.

I was there, completely present in the moment, and yet so completely far away. I was focused on one thing and one thing only: the rhythm of my breath. I sucked air in deep through my nose and slowly allowed it to make its way out.

Inhale; lift up into locus pose; 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, exhale, release.

This steady in and out of my breath sustained me. I felt solid like a tree and yet was limber like a noodle. I had command of my postures rather than my postures having command over me. It’s been weeks since I’ve felt that sort of release. My breath became the controlling factor in my practice. It dictated and spoke to my muscles; it told my stomach to tighten, my legs to lock; my arms to relax. My breath washed through me. It hydrated my organs and bones; it loosened the tightness in my back and released the furrow on my brow. It felt the day, no the week (and actually the week before it) fall off of me. It was such a peaceful release that I felt my eyes well up.

As my practice approached its end I felt fatigue hit, I began to succumb but my breath fought and won the battle. I finished my practice a new person, with a new body. I felt energized and peaceful. Even now, as I sit up in my bed three hours past my “bed time” I feel sustained, productive, and clear of mind. It’s this connection to the breath that energizes our lives, a connection that, when realize, is more powerful than sleep, and more hydrating than water.

LET IT GO

“You’re a yogini now.” A yogini: The female origin of a practicing male yogi; having a steadfast mind cultivated by the disciplined pursuit of transcendence through Yoga—or at least that’s what Wikipedia said. The definition is correct in that I am female, and yes I’m attempting to be disciplined with Yoga, or anything in my life for that matter, but what is this pursuit of transcendence? And is my mind steadfast?
In my daily practice I am always met with variations of distractions:

“Did I pay my phone bill?” “No. Now let that thought go.”

“What should I eat for dinner?” “Pasta. Now let that thought go.”

“I wish I could get my leg up a little higher.” “In time. Now let that thought go.”

My former instructor, Erika, would always say during our short sessions to acknowledge our thoughts and then let them go. But some days I feel bombarded with these pestering and unimportant questions. They attack me in my moments of silence just like they used to attack me before sleep. I don’t want to be that bad “put it off until tomorrow” person. I want to do today what I can do tomorrow, and more. But as a friend said to me today, “Step 1 before Step 5.”

This is truth. We must master our concentration to focus on the current, to focus on what is important, and what is true is this moment. It is not until we focus on our now that we will begin to live back in the today.

Tomorrow is a beautiful imaginary place that we will never reach. So find your today and master it. Be the owner of your todays, everyday. With this peace and mastery there will be no room for yesterdays regrets or tomorrows wishes. You will become the owner of your thoughts and the silence in your practice. What a beautiful place that is.

Love and Namaste.

SOUND OF BREATHING

It went from hot to cold over night. The change in weather drained me. Out of nowhere I’m lethargic and tired. Disciplined I pull my yoga top over my head. I fight with the straps and spandex. For a moment it overtakes me. I succumb to the strength that is 90% Supplex and 10% Lycra. I exhale and with my inhale I give it one final pull, and AH, I’m dressed. Victory is mine! I put my layers on and head to class. I’m still drained from my clothing battle. I want to stick it out and go for the 90 minute session…my mind is in it, but my body is just not there. I stretch and make the mistake of giving myself time to think. Maybe I just want to practice alone today. Yes, I want to practice alone…I want to do Camel in the privacy of my bedroom, I want to stand on my head and fall over with no one watching, I want to pray out loud, I want to light candles, and I want to listen to the sound of nothing but my own breathing.

Love and Namaste

Crows and Coconuts

High off of the sunshiny weekend I galloped (yes galloped) happily around the Bikram studio. I patiently waited for the 4:30 class to end, for the students to leave so that I could score some freestyle floor time. The room slowly emptied and I quickly laid my mat down, stretching all the way to the floor.
Nitin sat across from me, savoring the spare minutes in the heated room. He stretched his arms and then used his strength and pure core balance to push his whole body up in Salamba Sirsasana (Headstand Pose). I watched, almost jealously, as he maintained the position.
He slowly, methodically, rolled his legs down, toes touching the ground first and then came out of the pose. Refreshment washed over his face. He kindly offered to spot me in my attempt… my poor poor attempt, in which he practically held my legs in place. As I felt the blood rushing to my face he asked me if I could breath, I gasped out a little “no” and he slowly released my ankles. I less than gracefully rolled out and came to my feet.
Once I could breathe again I pushed myself back on my head and practiced bringing my knees to my chest. I realized that the key to this practice is core strength—I kept my abs hard and squeezed every muscle in my body, from my tippy toes to my fingers as I pushed up.
One can only stand on their head for so long (or I can only stand on my head for so long). So I came down to my mat and flipped on all fours, brought my knees to the back of my arms and pushed up into Bakasana (Crow Pose).
Now it was Nitin happily and jealously watching, waiting to take his turn. I tried to maintain that sweet balance, as to not come crashing to earth face-first. Nitin followed my lead and pushed into Crow one, two, three… and crash, face planted into the floor with a loud coconut bang. He looked up absolutely dazed, that “where am I” sort of look.
Once he reoriented himself, he laughed off his coconut crash.
We may be getting a little inversion happy, just last week I crashed and burned in a handstand. Regardless of these little accidents our practice is improving. We may have little battle wounds, signs of dedication; I wear them proudly and have to giggle away these little pains, so that I can gallop (yes gallop) into my next practice.

A Loving Hand (Or Foot)

We were frustrated. Correction, I was frustrated. So I withdrew. I did the classic cool-down to the point of coldness that I was this big ice zombie walking around. For a good week I snapped and crashed, cried and threw my weight around—also known as brat syndrome.
What caused this inner tension and outward aggression I’m not sure. Maybe just the daily passage of life; the traffic, the horns, the “hurry up”, “the hustle” the missed lunches, the need for more hours, the bags under my eyes, or the dishes in the sink. Whatever it was it irked me.
I stopped kissing, stopped touching, pulled back, and went numb.
For a solid week I carried this weight with me to yoga. I tried to breathe the anxiety out. I tried to push it out through Camel and Triangle, and yet I took it home with me at the end of the day.
I’m not sure when I realized that this feeling needed to be solved in a very literal “hands on” way. I didn’t realize it when I pulled into the driveway that Friday night, and didn’t realize it as I lit candles and dimmed the lights, I still didn’t realize it as I rolled out my yoga mat and came to a seat.
I think it was a few minutes after that, as my boyfriend walked through my door, that I had set up my room not for myself, but for him. I brought him to the mat, my mat, and tried to recall a bit of Thai Yoga massage. I walked up and down his spine, rubbed his feet with mine, and ran my fingers through his scalp. We didn’t say a word. We remained silent for almost an entire hour and at the end he sat up smiling, but with a glimmer of tears in his eyes.
It was at this very moment that this “hands on” realization hit me. A full week of tension had drained for my body. I was overwhelmed with relief, a sensation I was not expecting. Through pushing myself to love, I loved myself. It was the ultimate freeing experience.

WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS

When life gives you lemons…

Visit Lululemon: The El Segundo Store

Sunday in the South Bay was warm and relaxed. The majority of the day I trekked around in a pair of Nike running shorts and a white long sleeve shirt, my hair unwashed and face free of makeup (and oops free of Sunscreen, which left me with the consequential burnt forehead.)
My Aunt has finally returned to the South Bay; a home that she always seems to return to—the place is a Mecca for Yogis and ocean lovers alike. We spent Saturday unpacking boxes, rearranging furniture, making runs to Bed Bath and Beyond, and lining her freshly painted cabinets. We worked hard (with little enjoyable breaks eating appetizers and grabbing yummy tofu at The World Famous Spot.) http://www.worldfamousspot.com/

We woke up late on Sunday (8:45 oh blessed sleeping in!) and had an even later lunch at Martha’s.
http://losangeles.citysearch.com/review/133958
After a few more errands we were off for facials at Murad, http://www.murad.com/ but wait they lost our appointment! Lemons, have you seen these pores? Well the lovely ladies there made up for it with some free product. Hey free is good. We decided to check out the new Lululemon store at the Plaza.

Upon entry my senses went into Yoga apparel happiness overload. Hum, forego eating for the next month and fill in my Yoga wardrobe? No, without food I wouldn’t have the energy to practice. But really this place is filled to the brim with goodies. Every corner has stacks and racks filled with everything this yogini could ask for. I was met with bright smiles and truly happy employees. It was just such a cheerful place and lovely place. I highly recommend it to both men and women. I can’t wait to give my new outfit a try. More updates on how it holds up later.

Peace and Namaste.

Here is what I picked up:

Bend it through Bikram

A steady nervousness rushed around my entire body, leaving my arms itchy and cheeks flushed. Attempting to maintain composure, I walked into my first Bikram yoga class, chin-up and fully dressed in thick black sweats. I, like most new students, had no idea what to expect. All I knew was that it was going to be warm, correction hot, very hot.
It was 6 a.m., the sky was still pitch black and foggy, I was squeezing in an early morning session to fulfill a requirement for a college yoga class that, did I mention, was due that afternoon. “Unprepared” was an absolute understatement.
I walked up to the counter, that was literally almost as high as I am tall, and checked in. A glowing, peaceful looking man introduced himself as the instructor, Joe; he walked me through the 26-posture, 90-minute series, and pointed me in the direction of the studio. My nervousness elevated.
“What am I doing here?” I questioned myself.
I walked into the well-lit mirrored room, feeling completely awkward, and set my mat near the back wall—as per Joe’s instruction. A musk, that had soaked into the carpet from the class the night prior settled around me; it was almost overpowering. I looked around, shamelessly spying on the other students. The men and women in the front of the room were absolutely statuesque. Long, lean muscles stretched down their bodies, which were, by the way, covered in very little clothing. Again: “What am I doing here?”
Joe walked into the room and made his way to the front of the class to begin the series with deep Pranayama breathing. One posture in and I was completely confused. “Breath in when… breath out when?” I thought. My eyes quickly shifted around the room, until Joe’s met them; with a reassuring nod I began the Asanas.
As I bent into my first set of Half Moon pose I felt fear, anxiety, and personal pain rushing right out my fingertips—I also felt sweat rushing down the back of my neck, soaking my sweats. Halfway through Awkward pose the sweatshirt came off with a heavy plop.
I slowly followed the motions of the students in front me, correcting my stance and position with the instruction of Joe’s calming voice. For the entire 90 minutes I was completely in another world. I felt the whole gamut of emotion from fear, anguish, and anxiety to freedom, joy, and peace.
As I moved from standing to floor series I fought back the urge to pass out, throw up, or leave the room crying (insert yours here), but I stuck with it. I made it to the end and, as class concluded, the students applauded my first effort. I felt welcomed. I knew that my practice had been less-than–par, but I felt something so powerful emerging from the center of my being. I collapsed into final Savasna, my heart still pounding. It was such a great feeling. As I slowly got up I felt this peace all around me. I knew at that moment that I was addicted.
Recently, my one-year mark practicing Bikram passed, but I still feel that same sense of peace and joy just like it were the first time. Is my practice up to par yet? No. I doubt it’ll ever be as perfect as I want it. I’m always learning, fighting, and challenging myself during the 90-minute routine. Sometimes, I have to fight myself just to get there. But every time I complete a practice I feel my heart growing, I feel that I am becoming more and more myself. This feeling is an absolute gift…and for it I am deeply grateful.
Lately, I’ve found my practice crossing over into my daily life. Tree pose while waiting for my food to warm up at lunch, Eagle after sitting at my desk for too long—when my wrists hurt from too much typing, or my neck hurts from leaning over my desk, I reach up and trace from ceiling to wall with my pointed fingertips. I bend back and feel the warm release soak my spine. It’s the ultimate exhale and a practice that I seem to be taking everywhere I go.