5.10.2019

Kids yoga

Adult yoga students
don't often come in bearing in hand-drawn gifts,
little felted oval gifts,
knotted yarn bracelet gifts,
or gifts made by their mama's.
Kids do.
I was moved this morning by this little sticker
drawn by a student's mom,
with Monkeyflowers (Mimulus)
surrounding our beautiful state,
which has had a hard year of fire,
followed by an epic spring bloom.
.
Teaching kids yoga is full of surprises.
I go in with an idea or theme,
then mostly surrender.
Sometimes we stay according to plan,
other times not.
Not today.
And it was wonderful.
I laughed so hard during class,
then was nearly moved to tears by the end of class.
.
We closed class by sharing what sea creature we were during shavasana,
along with what we were bringing back into the world,
from the magical basket we wove together, in class.
We had dolphins, otters, a boat, and seaweed
bringing peace, fun, friendship, and the Great Mystery
back into our worlds.
.
Dear friend reading this now,
likely "adult,"
likely logical, contemplative...
what sea creature are you?
What do you bring into the world,
with your arms opening up overhead,
head tipping back in laughter,
to sprinkle down unto our planet?
(have fun!)

4.25.2019

Mornings


I rise in the darkness to slip on warm clothes, heat water, pack tea, and head out.

I bike to Jai Rhythm for pre-dawn yoga with Eve, or walk up our hill (behind home) to practice asana solo.

I love this rhythm.

Practicing in community, sweating together under infrared heat to beating tunes and skillfully guided flow sequences, I feel connected and inspired, while learning new teaching and practicing styles. I bike to the Ocean afterwards for tea, journaling, and flashcards.

Practicing solo on the hill, I move in and out of poses, experimenting, flowing, perhaps dancing a little here, drawing a little there, following a formless form. My tea and journal join my practice, as do the dawn chorus songbirds, rising sun, rolling ocean, blooming flowers, and expansive sky.

I am grateful for both.

4.22.2019

Current Journey


"This," Dr Stickley said, brandishing his hands as if holding a needle, "is your magic wand. Your key to the universe. Hold it with care." 

"Qi hua," said Dr Zhu, my fellow student at my new school, "What's that in English?" 
"Qi transformation." 
"Qi transformation. That's the key to this work." With a simple needle, you can affect positive change on at least 60% of your patients. If you do it right, it acts fast."
"Only 60%?" I ask. 
"That's a lot!" he looks at me incredulously, "You are helping a lot of people, especially as you continue in your practice, ten, twenty years from now." 

After needling my patient I sit, mind swirling from all the information I'm re-memorizing for board exams, and divergent information/ inspiration from fellow students, teachers, my own students, experiences, life, the world. 

I feel a stillness like after a storm after I complete a treatment, while waiting for the needles to do their work, before I go in to remove them. 

I remember Dr Stickley's passion, the way his eyes lit up and his hands danced, when he told treatment stories.

I remember Dr Bachelor's sweetness, the way he encouraged us to listen to our intuition first, then logic next during diagnosis, establishing clear internal rapport with myself as compassionate practitioner, and external rapport with patient as a very human human. 

At NUNM, I learned beautiful poetic stories of the great Scholar-Physicians as written by Sun Si Miao, and explained by Dr Wilms. 

I remember walking through rivers in Oregon, and along the Ocean in California, digesting information, flipping through flashcard piles. 

There were tears along this road, and I continue to shed tears: gratitude, frustration, more.

What a journey. 

I'm in the third week of a six month board exam preparation marathon. I feel deeply overwhelmed by the mounds of information I must re-learn, while in awe of the heights and depths of this medicine. I remain curious about where I go from here, while committed to my current journey: pass the Boards. 

3.24.2019

Spring Break


We spot birds circling and swarming ahead, and sail that way. Schools of dolphins leap and flash through the water, herding fish into a bait ball. Plume after plume of water sprays high from a humpback whale whose small fin, bumpy back, and elegant tail glides through the water, paralleling our boat. He is magnificent. Sea birds wheel overhead, as dolphins leap towards us from every direction. We are caught in an oceanic feeding melee between Ventura Harbor and Santa Cruz Island. We set the boat on neutral, the captain steering every so often to keep out of the whale's way. I am riveted, heart leaping with the dolphins, completely grounded in place even on bumpy water, by the proximity and feeling of the majestic humpback whale.

We'd watched whales from a distance on Oahu, but I don't remember ever being this close to a whale. I felt exhilarated surfing with sea turtles around the island, like touching the divine: I paddle towards a distant wave, only to stop, astounded, as a sea turtle swims straight towards me, cresting the nearest wave. Another had swam below me, earlier. Rainbow colored fish swim around precious coral. My body dips and weaves between ocean, fish, and coral. I am buoyant yet strong, my face goggled and blinking, my first time snorkeling.

I lead climb for the first time, yesterday. Climbing on rock again still feels like a tremendous feat after my 2006 climbing accident: so long ago, and yet forever close to my heart, the surface of my experience, living as a miracle. The rock is sharp, with solid holds, an easy route that we climb over and over again, trying different routes, taking turns leading, familiarizing, enjoying, being. Malibu Creek sings below us. This land is so familiar, beautiful, precious.

It's been an incredible spring break. I am preparing for my final quarter of Chinese medicine graduate school with a handful of exciting new teaching gigs around Ventura, and a packed study schedule for board exams. Everything coalesces now. The sky is a brilliant blue, as storm clouds form on the horizon, and sudden small droplets kiss my bronzed skin. What a very full blessing to be alive. A good journey to here, and a good journey ahead.

Atha yoga anushasanum. Now, the practice of yoga begins.

3.10.2019

Herbal Arts series


Deepen your relationship with medicinal plants through complete sensory engagement. Focus connection with one plant each month by drinking tea, making art, and crafting herbal medicines. Learn historical and scientific practices and perspectives, while cultivating experiential intuition. Art processes hone observational and technical skills, and encourage multi-media exploration, through life-drawing, print-making, book-binding, and photography. Creating herbal preparations empowers health resilience. Rotating projects include salves, tinctures, honeys, vinegars, and incense. Take home herbal preparations, art projects, and informed inspiration for optimal life expression, wellness, and thrival.

When: Third Saturdays of each month, 1 to 5 PM.
Where: Vita Art Center
Register: $55/ class via Vita Art Center, or contact me

3.05.2019

spring kids' herbs/ yoga classes



Morning sun salutations in Joshua Tree with my favorites: Larrea tridentata (Creosote), big granite slabs, warm sun, smooth wind (actually the wind was a bit much that morning), and my sweetie (sneaky photographer)!

Registration is open for spring kids' herbs/ yoga + food/ fitness classes with me through Hitchcock Children's Center. Fun plants and desert-inspired sun salutations promised, ahead. Sign on up!

Adult herbal classes on the way. Seeking stable venue in Ventura. Stay posted!