after an hour of yoga with Erika Moss
Curled on the earth
like a small animal,
I bury my nose in the grass
and breathe in the surprising sweetness
of spring green and purple bloom
and soil still damp from last night’s rain,
and though my eyes are closed
the desert sun enters anyway,
infusing my inner world
with radiance, with red.
There are so many ways
I work to hold myself up,
but in this soft moment,
I notice how nothing
is asked of me and how,
when I am still,
the world I might ignore
invites itself in.
There is such a thing,
says my friend,
as the back of the heart.
It is, she says, like the dark side
of the moon.
I honor that dark side,
that quiet, shadowy terrain
that is no less necessary,
no less true for being dim.
There will be a time to unfurl,
to open, to shine, to rise,
but in this charmed interval,
I sink deeper, deeper
into what is cool,
what is quiet,
what is beyond my knowing.
The interval builds a nest around me.
I do nothing and feel
how I am held.
Posts Tagged ‘yoga’
Yin
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, quiet, receptivity, spring, still, yoga on May 21, 2023| 13 Comments »
On the First Day of the New Year
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged body, new year, stress, twist, yoga on January 2, 2023| 2 Comments »
On the First Day of the New Year
I twist.
My knees
go right,
my gaze
goes left.
I pause
like this—
in deep
release,
wring out
old stress
like water.
I inhale
and lengthen,
exhale, squeeze.
How quickly
new thoughts
rush in.
I twist
again.
Soften, She Said
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged augusta kantra, poem, poetry, reaching, softening, yoga on December 18, 2019| 9 Comments »
In these darkened days,
I think of the potato
that, left in the pantry,
will grow long white arms
to reach for the light.
There is, of course,
a beauty in reaching.
But today I think of Augusta
who taught me
the beauty of softening—
how the same reaching effect
can be achieved
by focusing on the part
that isn’t reaching,
letting it soften.
Soften, she said.
Soften. And it was as if
I were new in my body.
The effect was the same,
the method the opposite.
I love how I didn’t know
there was something
so beautiful yet to learn
about letting go. I love
these lessons in softening—
how, on this morning I learn again
to relax, to unstrive, to unreach,
to lean into ease, and like a camellia blossom,
in the dark of winter to open,
to find such sweet release.
20 billion atoms from Shakespeare
The Joys of Forward Fold in Knee to Ankle Pose (Aginistambhasana)
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged folding, insight, poem, poetry, yoga on October 3, 2018| 6 Comments »
We sit with legs crossed and shins stacked
and attempt to bend forward.
The yoga instructor waxes about the benefits
of forward folds—how our ancestors bent
to pick sustenance from the earth
and how forward bends create
so much space in the spine—and
the whole while, my hips
are opening into red-petalled agony.
I have heard, of course, of how
forward bends lead to introspection—a
literal folding in on the self.
How they calm the nervous system
and quiet the mind. I also remember
my father’s advice when I came to him
with a sore thumb. Well, he would say,
I can drop a rock on your toe and
you won’t think about your thumb
anymore. No wonder the mind is quiet
when doing forward folds in knee-to-ankle pose.
It’s because the hips are throwing such a hissy fit
the mind can’t get in a word.
The instructor moves amongst the mats
and calls what we are doing research.
She invites us to get curious about what seems
to be holding us back. One more lesson,
I suppose, in how the obstacle is the way.
I lean deeper into the blooming red ache.
And the mind gets very quiet. And the folding
becomes an unfolding, and I feel
as if I am harvesting something—release,
perhaps, or insight—from right there in front of me,
something I can almost touch
the more I get out of the way.
A Conversation on Poetry, Politics, and Moving through the Day in a Yogini Way
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poetry, politics, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, sarah hutchinson, self care, vlog, yoga on May 2, 2017| 2 Comments »
A few weeks ago, my friend Sarah Hutchinson wrote and asked if we could do an interview for her vlog, Yoga Wisdom and Wellness. How do we care for ourselves in difficult times? How do we care for each other? Sarah and I are planning to do a day of poetry and yoga in Grand Junction this fall … more about that soon.
I hope you enjoy our conversation, available on video http://www.yogawisdomandwellness.com/yoga-and-poetry/?inf_contact_key=6e2770c33a8367c40362045ee888fe5a53ff3f8439d2ce904643bbae7ffdc222 or you can download the audio https://www.dropbox.com/s/lt7r58qn97cfwba/Edited%20%26%20Balanced%20Audio%20-%20World%20Woman%20-%20March%202017.mp3?dl=0&inf_contact_key=a6dd7cc93228ef0d842b8eb77085981afabaa0f012dc0998000f24fd4dabc2d0
All the best!
Rosemerry
Adho Mukha Vrksasana
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged fear, hand stand, poem, poetry, surrender, underside, yoga on April 25, 2013| 3 Comments »
She says, The first place
you notice your lack of commitment
is in your hands. Are they cupped?
Press all four corners
flat into the earth. Feel how the ground
pushes energy back up through your arms.
She says, The next place
you notice your lack of commitment
is in your elbows. If they bend,
you depend on your muscles
instead of letting your skeleton
support you.
*
I think about the undersides of things.
How if you lift a rock,
there’s another, dark world
writhing and wriggling
and so full of life.
*
She says, The next place
you notice your lack of commitment
is in your back, how it bends
like a banana, gets soft like a noodle.
She says, It is easy as standing.
She says, Any fear is a trick of the mind.
*
Not once
have I found a scorpion
under a stone.
Every time I lift one
I worry.
*
She says, Three inches from the wall,
plant your fingertips. At the edge of the wall,
fix your gaze. First bring the feet
just beneath the navel.
Then raise one foot.
Then two.
*
If a woman
stays too long
in one place,
what begins
to grow?
*
She says, The head
is beneath the heart.
She says, It’s another way
to see.
She says, You must overcome
your fear of falling.
She says, Try.
*
Upside down, and
my fear falls out
of my pockets. And something else,
falls out, too, I can’t yet say
what it is,
but the tears afterward,
they were not grief
nor loss, they tasted
more like
rain that falls
on ground
that has just been cleared.
Love is Like This
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged fear, handstand, inversion, love, poem, poetry, yoga on May 10, 2012| 3 Comments »
It is awkward
at first, both hands
on the ground,
both feet straight up
in the air.
Still the heart,
as it floats
above the head
pumps steadily
through the fear.
And the arms,
they know how
to hold the weight
though they’ve never
done it before.
But the head
as it hangs, it
vexes and frets
to find itself
so near the floor.
So it tells the arms,
Buckle, and it all
falls down—
the head, the legs,
the breath, the core,
it all falls down
except for the
voice that rises
from somewhere
not in the head
saying, more,
do it more,
please, more.
Even Blossoming
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged balance, blossoming, Erika Gordon, friendship, growing, poems, poetry, potential, yoga on March 25, 2012| 5 Comments »
Erika on the red mat
tucks her right foot in her groin
and bends forward from the waist
then lowers till she’s hovering
above her left tippy toes.
If you can’t follow
what I’m saying, that’s
because her body’s twisted,
furled and folded as a body seldom is.
But full of grace,
she brings her hands
to meet in prayer in front of her
and for a minute poises there,
a compact bulb with five small roots
and a patient shoot waiting
to push up and through.
It’s beautiful to stand beside
Erika on the red mat
to feel more than see
the rising energy as like
a tulip in the spring
she reaches not just up
but into the quiet balance point
where anything can happen.
Practicing Pigeon: Because What is Brittle Will Break
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged flexibility, found poem, Jason Crandell, pigeon pose, stubbornness, yoga on November 9, 2011| 2 Comments »
Start on all fours,
placing your hands
below your shoulders,
your knees
below your hips.
Bring your right knee
forward to touch
your right wrist.
Slowly inch your right shin
toward the midline of your body.
Now straighten your left leg
toward the back.
Keep your hips level,
and as they settle
press your fingertips firmly
into the floor.
Now walk your hands forward,
inhale deeply,
and exhale as you fold forward,
lowering your elbows to the floor.
The sensations that flood
your hips might feel great—
or slightly unnerving—
or a combination of the two.
Breathe. Observe
the reactions in your mind.
Let go of them
by relaxing your eyes.
Continue to breathe
into your hips.
Allow your belly to melt.
You’re peeling back layers of tension.
Feel your hips
and your mind soften
Allow waves
to wash over you.
After the forward bend,
inhale back up.
Press down through your fingertips
and lift your hips.
Take five deep breaths.
Observe how you feel.
There’s no need to attach
any meaning to the sensations.
No need to worry or judge yourself.
Strong as these sensations are,
they’ll soon morph
into different feelings.