I haven't done enough. But I have done the hardest part. I started.

What was healed is hurt, what was light was heavy, what was deep flowing breath is shallow, breathy and undisciplined. Welcome back to Ashtanga... It is always fascinating to me to watch my mind want to walk around in that same circle of judgement.

I've been injured enough and healed enough injuries in the yoga studio to know that this, really, for me, is what yoga is. It's not the "getting good" or "getting strong" or the healing, or the fixing, but it is a powerful medicine that brings what is out of balance into balance.

Today, I felt like this. Again. I'm a bit body dismorphic, I know rationally that it's not actually how I look. But the power of judgement makes it almost real. The reality is that I'm ten pounds heavier than I was last summer. That's all. Just ten. And that's normal when you don't train and you drink wine with dinner. And its fixable, at that. By training, just a little. And smiling. And knowing that if I practice, all is coming.

I step onto my mat and feel the thoughts... why did I let my stomach get like this? How did I let myself get so heavy? Why would I do that to my practice? I feel the pressing inertia of those thoughts, like an evil other, it wants me to fail. It is so powerful, the judgement that we all have. I hate the way I look in my yoga pants, the fact that I have to wear a flowy top not to feel self conscious about my belly, and the flowy top brings to mind the fact that I'm thinking of, and judging my body.

My strong, beautiful body.

Which can be stronger, and more in balance than it currently is. Which becomes strong and in balance by doing exactly what I am doing. Standing still at the front of my mat, I am already winning the battle. Just standing still.

My mind begins to relax, and it begins to come into balance way before the body does. It will take a month for me to recognize myself again. But I'm on the path, just breathing on my mat. From a bit of a distance, without attachment, I see the spiral of judgement, I watch myself try to point out all of my flaws. And then I breathe in, and raise my arms over my head, in my own living room, just my cat sitting there, staring at me, and the sound of my roommate clicking away at his computer at the kitchen table.

There is dirty laundry in the basket in front of me. My kids ski boots are laying on the floor behind me. A pile of clothes to wash and fold and prepare for Replay for next season is on the boy's dresser (which they've drug out of their room) next to me.

As I fold in half and exhale, all of the noise fades into the back ground. The noise about me looking at my middle, the judgement about the cleanliness of my house or my ability to practice regularly for the last five months.

None of it matters. Not really. Because the antidote to all of that noise? Its right here. Exhale. Flat back, in hale, exhale, fold. Gratitude, letting go.

My tyrannical diligence in pointing out my flaws flows out with my breath and suddenly there is only the practice.

Chattaranga (the push up position posture where you lower slowly) is challenging, I've injured my left shoulder and I don't know how it is going to heal. The only thing that healed it last time was months and months of daily Ashtanga practice.

My worried mind, my monkey mind turns back on. "You should have been practicing. Then you'd be more healed and more ready for Teacher Training in 22 days."

I answer calmly, like I'm talking to Bodhi when he's losing his shit and thinking life isn't fair. "But I wasn't practicing. And I can't undo that. And here we are now. And the fact that this hurts is a good indication that we are doing the right thing."

"But, But, But..." my mind tries to argue back, begins to want to tell me that I'm heavier than I should be and that's why its too hard on my shoulder. It's my fault, its your fault, you are to blame! Shouts my cruel mind.

I remember feeling like this, just this fall. I like it when my body is strong and lean and light. It makes it easier to float, to run, to laugh, to sleep, to take my clothes off. A truth about me is that I flux through this. I don't always feel like this. I feel like this about a third of the time. And when I make the compassionate choice, that goes up. The result of being in balance is a healthier body. Which also looks good naked. I know I can't chase the physical form for its beauty. I have to chase it for its function, and let the byproduct be beauty.

I remember telling my Cert 2 candidates this year, "Its really hard to concentrate when someone is yelling at you. And if you hang out with someone who yells at you all day, eventually you either become numb, or you begin to believe them. If the person who is yelling at you all day is you, tell yourself that you'll get back to them when you are finished working hard to get better."

I exhale. I don't answer, I just modify as much as I can, reminding myself that appropriate modifications are a sign of a good, evolved practice, it means I'm capable of listening to my body and finding my place of benefit. My cat winds around my legs and nuzzles my face, tickles me with her whiskers. She's happy I'm playing on the floor. And suddenly, I am. And I'm so glad.

I'm glad because now I feel like this. Beginner's mind lacks judgement, and a child's beginner's mind is full of play, gratitude and fun. I identify more with this image than either of the two above. This feels like a picture of purpose, and the result of purpose leans in either direction on the scale of lean and strong to fat and heavy. But the physical result is a continuum. I have choice about the inner story, the inner drive. I chose this.

I don't make it to Navassana (boat) today, because eventually the chatarangas are too painful. I sit on my mat, wondering how I will find Mula Bundah (the root lock) or Udiana Bundah (the fly-up or abdominal lock) again if I can't work on my vinyassa (flow portion between assana or posture).

I remember my teacher Dylan helping me with just this issue last summer, and I am rueful because I've been here before, I worked through this problem once before. I have two emotional choices in this moment, I can be angry at being back at the beginning, or I can remember how it was I solved the problem in the past and get back to work.

I break out of the regular practice and spend ten minutes struggling through an abdominal sequence. I still haven't done enough. I get up smiling. I practiced on my own. For an hour. Plus abs. I know where my shoulder is now, and what I need to do. I resolve to go to Bikram this afternoon for the work out (Bikram has no upper body supporting postures, so it won't bother my shoulder), and for the yoga buzz, and for the community.

I haven't done enough, but what I have done was the hardest part. I started.

I do believe you can be whatever you want to be. As long as that thing is you.

I think we spend a lot of time suffering in pursuit of some ideal, of trying to become an image or an idea of another person we have seen. No matter how hard I work, I am not going to become my friend Ann, and I shouldn't want to. First, "Is not possible." because she is she and I am me. 

We have different... everything. To want to become who Ann is puts me in complete denial of all that I am, and can be. I am not going to have waist length curly brown hair, amber eyes, an eight pack and nearly black skin. Because I have shoulder length blonde hair, nice broad shoulders, a two pack and lighter skin. 

Beautiful. For so many reasons. This is the picture in question.

WHY am I going on and on about Ann (not her real name)? Because I was on Facebook the other day (imagine that), and my friend Ann, an accomplished and amazing yoga instructor, had posted a beautiful photo. Now; she is a truly beautiful woman, she is in the bloom of love, and she is making choices that help her live the life she loves. All of these things help to make her spirit and her soul shine through in a way that shows as a very bright light.

Many people are inspired by her beauty, how down to earth she is, how real, authentic, loving and giving she is, and how hard she works. She is a truly talented instructor, and a great, giving friend. She has a tight circle of like minded, like bodied girlfriends who love life together. 

After Ann posted this photo, many people commented on how beautiful she looked, how happy, how amazing. One person posted that she thought for years that if she worked hard enough, she would have a body like Ann's. And then this photo went up, and it showed this person that no matter how hard she worked, she would never ever attain the transcendental beauty and health that Ann possessed. This person was attempting to compliment Ann by holding her beauty as a ridiculous unobtainable ideal. In the process, she shattered her concept of her own self worth, beauty and potential, maybe without even realizing it. 

This is the trap of comparison. And we are all guilty of it sometimes. It diminishes our ability to feel joy, to be ourselves, to live in gratitude, to have a real and connected relationship with anyone. This kind of thinking leads to retail therapy and plastic surgery, trying to become something that you are not, by virtue of costume or sculpture. 

This might be more what your body looks like. This is a strong posture from the Ashtanga series. Beautiful. 

And be careful here, as well. By saying "becoming something that you are not" does not mean that you are LESS than the person you are looking at or wishing you were like. "Becoming something that you are not" means literally trying to make yourself into something other than YOU rather than shaping yourself into the MOST, BEST you that you can become by honoring your body, your face, your personality, your potential. 

You can develop your talents, and learn new skills, and be inspired down a path that you never knew was open to you (see previous post... Don't become a yoga instructor, everyone is doing that). But to do it in hopes of becoming someone else, and perhaps having their life rather than your own... happiness does not lie in this direction. This is a surefire shortcut to the sadness sickness.

Hair and breast implants, butt lifts, and the best yoga outfit in the studio are not going to change your internal life, who you are and the lessons you need to learn in order to grow. You are carrying your shit around with you no matter how thin, tan, and resurfaced you become. You are you. And how you look on the outside is heavily influenced by how much grace and compassion you have on the inside. Its true. I know you've heard it a million times. But it is true. When you let go of needing to be seen a certain way, the beautiful you begins to be nurtured, and THAT light is as bright as anyones.

You live with your own set of unique lessons that need to be learned. You can live in denial of those lessons by turning your judgement on others, chasing the idea of being someone other than you are, and changing your body by force. 

Or you can surrender into your skin, find a little grace and compassion for your beautiful potential, not only as an athlete, artist or spiri, but as a person. As a friend. As a heart. As someone to connect to, as someone worth knowing.

I feel this way in my body. It doesn't look a lot like this. But it gets healthier all the time, and I am so grateful for that. 

It took me a few years to wrap my head around loving who I am without that meaning that I am complacent. I can see my body as my own now, without overlaying the picture of someone else who seems to have a "better" body. I can see other people's health, and see myself, and know that I can become a healthier me. And strive for that. And be grateful for that.

Yoga tends to attract bodies that are easily suited to it, its fun to do something your body is already good at, already designed to do. My body is heavier, thicker than many yoga bodies. I have short arms and a long torso. I will never be able to jump through my hands because my palms don't touch the floor when I sit up straight. 

THIS IS NOT A TRAGEDY!! As Prem would say, "Is not possible." It doesn't matter. So, I do this little scooty thing where I drag my feet through my hands. Rhada has to do the same thing. Long torso, short arms, incredibly beautiful woman. Will I ever look like my teacher in Aspen, Sharon Capplain? Well, she is a good foot shorter than I am, with a vata body, thin, reedlike, floaty. If I tried to look like her, I would be in such fierce denial of me that I would kill my own light. Extinguish it by trying to become thinner than my body's natural constitution wants me to be.

Speaking of lights that shine bright, This is Sharon. 

Can I make my body healthier? Yes. I can. I can be inspired by Ann's deep practice and the resulting amazing body that she gets to play in all day. It does not discourage me to see how her body continues to develop into a stronger, leaner, more flexible, more grounded, more open vessel. She was not perfect before she took this photo, and she has not come closer to perfection with this photo. She was healthy before and is becoming more herself in many ways that require a lot more work than just eating salad and going to class.

When I saw this photo of Ann, I thought, wow. Look at her becoming even more who she is. She is really tapping into herself, loving herself, growing and becoming. I wonder who I will be if I continue to do that as well? 

And I was saddened by the statement that was posted, although I understand where it comes from. Because when we are motivated from a place of yearning or desire, our ability to work toward a goal is tainted from the start. It isn't truly from or for our own integrity. It is to win, to be like someone else, to be other that we are, to by "better" so we can be "happier". 

I also think that seeing this kind of post can, if she lets it, diminish Ann's happiness. This is the selfish and cruel part of this person posting a comment like this. The poster is punishing Ann to some extent for being brave enough to work hard emotionally, spiritually and physically on herself. This is unhealthy, selfish behavior.

Ann could take on this imposition, feeling guilty for the bounty she has created in her own life. I doubt she will, but it happens. Many people who have this kind of toxic "why can't I have it too" energy try to bring other people who are blissful down, so that their lives are more attainable.

The problem is that you can not co-opt someone else's happiness. No matter how hard she tries, the poster of this jealous comment won't be Ann. And there is no doubt that she is suffering for it. Until she learns that she CAN let go of wishing, and become the most excellent version of herself. The most excellent version of herself today, and tomorrow and the next day. She can look for ways that she can grow and shine and become healthier from wherever she is, whether that's 100 pounds over weight or very injured, or just a little sad and unsure of who she are or what her worth is, or whatever obstacle she is facing. 

Look in the mirror and find the spark of you. You are beautiful. You can become whatever you want to be. As long as that thing is an expression that really truly honors who YOU are. 

But you aren't who I wish you were, I knew that before I even met you.

It wasn't until we rolled up into the Shala this morning, and Isaac's little flip flop clad feet came slapping up to us through the mud, and Bodhi put his helmet on the bike, and I stood up and walked through the mud up the ramp through the new wall which gets higher every day that I realized, kind of, that today was the day that everything, or maybe just two really significant things, were going to be really different.

Thanks, Prem and Rhada. 

We had missed Prem and Rhada's last class. I had, in my mind, had this day as the day we had to say goodbye for so long, that it already had sorrow attached to it.

But its different than I thought it would be. We are staying. Prem and Rhada are the ones that are leaving. They are off to the states to see friends and family for a month and a half. They have a good friend, Dylan, teaching.

I was so glad that there would be a great teacher here, someone who also studied with Pattabhi Jois. Part of me feels a bit sad not to be leaving for India in a few days, like I copped out of that adventure to some extent. Like Bodhi and I should be meeting Saraswati, and studying with her as planned.

But the deed is done, and there are so many good reasons to stay...

"I miss Prem." Bodhi said, and came to a sudden stop at the office. He looked up at me, and looked around. Something was different. Prem has become a Goo Remover for Bodhi. Prem, like Weems, plays with Bodhi, encourages him to be a kid, allows space for him to be who he is emotionally. They both hold space, let Bodhi be Bodhi, while helping him to find out what that means.

Bodhi suddenly seemed a little lost. "I know babe, I miss Prem, too." It was true. It seemed like a good idea at the time to stay....

But I like meeting new teachers and getting a fresh perspective, and Dylan seems really cool, and Prem and Rhada would only have someone really great teach in their shala... so I'm pretty stoked. Thats life, Prem and Rhada need to go do their thing, and its not good to get attached, and there are lots of teachers, and I'll learn something new.

But I miss them already. I hadn't realized how much I looked forward to seeing them every day. How nice it was to have them in my practice, how far into my practice they had come. I am changing because of the practice, and they are so much a part of that. Each in their own way.

Bodhi sat down on the step and started to play with Isaac. Abby came up and handed Bodhi something.  "Here, Bodhi. This is from Prem and Rhada. We missed you yesterday. They gave us these necklaces yesterday. They are just for us, from Prem and Rhada." Bodhi took the necklace and looked at it. He sat really still and turned it over in his hands. He was a little stunned. I expected him just to put it on and keep playing but he looked at it.

His face crumpled a little. "I miss Prem." he mumbled again, looking down at the necklace in his hands.

"Its okay, babe." I said. He put it on, and I went into the shala to set up.

There were only three people there so far, we were early. But it felt like because Prem and Rhada had gone, everyone had gone. On the other hand, it felt peaceful. I looked forward to some open space, I could be a little further up, closer to the front, no one distracting me, a nice view of the Buddha statue sitting in the pond, the light coming in through the bamboo fence.

Bodhi came in to stand next to me for the invocation. He looked up at me. "I miss them, mom." He whispered.

And then Prem and Rhada walked out of their house, backpacks on, ready to go on their next adventure. Bodhi ran through the shala and met them with Isaac and Abby behind the wall. I didn't get to see them say good bye, but I'm so glad they did. It feels like good bye forever, but the really funny thing is... we are here for so long that we will STILL be here when they get back!

Bodhi came back up front smiling, I saw through my feet as I hung upside down waiting for the prayer Prem and Rhada walk happily up to the car. It was funny not to go say goodbye to them. But I didn't want to interrupt the kids. It felt selfish to go get my own goodbye when the kids wanted to give their love.

Dylan came to the front. "Samasditihi" he said. Same program. This is how we begin. "Ommmmm" he chanted. Prem's deep resonating, confident voice was missing. In its place was a surprising sound. Dylan's Om was different. Wait a minute. Was EVERYTHING going to be different?

It was beautiful. Dylan began the prayer and he has a lovely voice. He sings it, higher in pitch and more sing-song. Bodhi sang along, not phased. I was equal parts entranced and confused.

Funny that, because in all my yoga practice I've never had the same teacher over and over and over again. There are usually three or four people who guide practice, and I just go to the Bikram studio and take from whoever is teaching.

Mysore practice is so different, you are on your own program on your own mat practicing at your own pace with your own breath. To have the same person show up in your bubble of consciousness and correct you and then walk away is soothing to some extent. There is trust there.

Today, I began practice and I felt the deep and profound silence in the room. It occurred to me that the room is always this quiet. That there is only the sound of breath and the plop of feet. It occurred to me that we are all moving very slowly. That this almost looks like TaiChi.

And then it occurred to me that even though I'm practicing meditation, staying on my mat mentally and physically, and working on my breath, hearing an ocean in my head, its usually really really loud in the room to me.

I haven't heard the silence before.

My mind has been too busy. Prem and Rhada make corrections, their movements and voices are part of the rhythm of practice. It was absolutely SILENT in Dylan's Mysore practice. I felt like time slowed down.

"Watch your breathing, your bundahs. Mulah Bundah, Udiana Bunda..."

Suddenly I missed Prem! Where was my teacher? Who was this guy, pretending to be my teacher, walking around in his shala?? What had I been THINKING? Why hadn't I gone to India?? If I was going to take from someone else, surely it should be someone from India!! From the source! I watched my mind go on a little judgement trip.

I found my breath and continued my practice. Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance. Where is all this fear coming from?

Dylan walked past me, helping other people in Down Dog, but not me.  (Was I on my mat and in my practice??) Where were Prems gentle, understanding hands, that ask so much of me? Where was fierce Rhada, asking me for more, but to know when it was enough? Where were my teachers???

I struggled with this all the way through the warm up. I got to the middle of Sun B and the breath and the rhythm took over. It was automatic suddenly, to some extent, but that was also a good thing, the physical practice was pulling me out of my judgemental mind and onto my mat. I found my breath.

I worked with Rhada in my mind. "STAND on your FEET, Kate. Lift your HIPS! Come ON!" I found myself a little.

The room, however, was loud again in my internal struggle. I reached for the breath. I let go of needing to hear Rhada and tried to just feel the posture, incorporate my notes, find the silence. The next flow stretched out long, things were slowing down.

Suddenly, my back was moving, feeling longer. My shoulders were stretching open. Dylan was adjusting me. His touch, like his voice, was light, melodious. I listened. My body moved with the suggestion.

He came back again later. We had a chat about my bind, he coaxed my knee gently down, a posture Ive been struggling to find depth in was suddenly there. He came back later. He sat down and we chatted about Navassana. I have trouble making my abs strong. Mula Bundah not withstanding, I use my psoas in this posture and I can't seem to make my abs strong.

Dylan had me lay on the ground and try a minuscule movement with my back. My weak, unused abs fired all at once. I could make change from here.

At the end of practice, I left the shala feeling whole, feeling light and happy and floaty. I still miss Prem and Rhada. But I'm grateful for the space they made for us to practice in. Im grateful for the foundation they laid for me to learn from another teacher as well. I'm grateful for the sudden shift, for the attachment practice, for the struggle to let go and the struggle to connect and the struggle to be open. We can not practice this enough in life.

And I'm so grateful for the beautiful, gentle teachings of Dylan. I can't wait to go back in the morning and practice again, in a silent room, with a quieter mind, open to a new teacher. Let the next unfolding begin!

Question from a Reader: What do I do when I don't have a passion for anything?

I have a couple of friends who have asked me this question over the years. This is a hard one. Losing (or never finding to begin with) our passion often means we've lost our compass. Our internal compass that points the way to what is right and true for us.

Sometimes, we feel flat. Passionless, lost. Often times, we reach into the past, trying to recreate something that made us feel like we had promise. Sometimes, when we do that, we start living "in the glory days". All of our life in the present is focused on the fact that it was once good in the past and it will never be as good as it was.

Now, we are wishing. And wishing that something is other than it is is suffering.

This is also a trap for your will and your spirit. Looking up from the bottom of the well when things are not feeling so good is hard to do. Trusting that there is something out there for you, but you don't know what it is yet is VERY hard to do.

Our minds have an innate fear of the unknown. And if we find ourselves in a place where things are passionless, but familiar, we will tend to hang on to that feeling. Familiar, even when its unhealthy, feels safe.

The challenge here is to find your support group. Reaching out for help so you can have faith in yourself and in the future you will create is also hard. It means telling your closest friends, maybe only one or two of them, that you want to try something that is frightening to you. Maybe the thing you want to try is just admitting that you are unhappy. That can feel as scary as jumping off a cliff.

The thing that is beautiful is that there IS a path for you. That first step to health, the first step away from the flat, emotionless place is the hardest. Just in emailing me this question, my friend has taken that scary step.

Imagine you are standing on a grassy hill. There is a river below you. Across the river is your safe haven. A home, a place where people understand you, a place where a teacher will help you find your way. To get there, you have to cross a bridge. The bridge is made of glass. It looks like it is not there. The first step onto the bridge is going to be terrifying. Will it hold you? Can you stand on it? Are you crazy to even try? Once you take that step and you feel your feet underneath you, listen for the voices that are encouraging you on. Strain to hear them over everything in your mind that is telling you to turn back, this is unfamiliar and frightening.

Keep your gaze focused on what will really help you change your life, become who you want to become, healthier, happier, more YOU, more sure of yourself. Look across the bridge, not at your feet. Take another step. Eventually, you will know the bridge is there, and each step gets easier, as though there is sand sprinkled in the glass, and then some steel rods appear a little further on, eventually the bridge is wood and iron, sold and true. And then, you are on solid ground.

The reason we often get stuck in a flat, emotionless, passionless place is because something sad or traumatic has happened along the way. We begin to wish it hadn't happened. We see how things COULD have been, if only we had made a different choice, or not made a certain mistake, or been more patient, or loving, or giving. Or just a better person. We go down this spiral of self judgement that is so loud, and so full of blame, that it is paralyzing.

No wonder you can't find your passion. You've lost your sense of you. Your self worth. Step one: act compassionately toward yourself.

Do not judge.
Minimize harm.
Know that this will pass.

Say this out loud a couple of times. It is sound advice, and sound brain science from the folks who wrote "Wired for Joy" and run the Emotional Brain Training website. (Check it out, it is a powerful tool for change, based on the latest brain science.)

Step two: Find a friend or two that you trust and tell them you are trying to make a change.

Step three: Let go of needing to be in crisis and focus all of your energy on finding little places where you can make a positive choice. Make yourself a cup of tea. Turn off the television. Hug someone. Call your mom. Stand in the sun and feel the warmth on your skin. Hug your kid. Tiny things like this make cracks where joy can leak in.

Step four: Put yourself physically in places that inspire you. If you love the ocean but you are stuck at work, walk outside and stand by a fountain so you can hear the water. Let go of wishing you were at the beach and be appreciative of your love for water. Pay attention to what it is about the water that you love. Find gratitude for your connection.

Over time, you will find your feet, your compass will spin less violently, and you will be able to lift your head and notice, you may feel interested in something. This is the first step toward finding your passion.

I hope this helps!!

Much love,
Kate

If YOU have a question please ask it in the comments below! I'll do my best to answer it or find someone who can point you in the right direction. Thanks for reading!