Shanti-Town Trivializes World Events, Episode 1 - The Gulf Oil Spill

Maybe it was the video of the non-stop billows of oil into the water.  Maybe it was one more disaster on the heels of so many others, in a time when all of us are consumed with the threat of (dunh dunh dunh duuuunh) Climate Crises, or maybe it was just the unavoidable fact that what I was looking at on my television screen and in the news was in fact a giant energy leak--not from a tanker or a plant or a factory, but from the center of the earth itself.  Whatever it was, a question has risen to my mind while watching the events of the last 67 days unfold, and the question refuses to leave me:

Where is the oil spill in my own life?

If I am to buy into this "oneness" thing, and really buy into it, even just in a blanket kind of we-are-all-part-of-the-same-world way, then I have to believe that what is happening in the world around me must be reflected SOMEWHERE in my own universe; the microcosm of body, mind and heart.  And if that's true, then also everything that is happening in the world around me must also be reflected in my ever-widening circles of family, neighborhood, community, city, state, country, and on and on.

And so, if there is an oil leak there.  There must be an oil leak...here.

And what is an oil leak, really?  It's not a random substance...it's not maple syrup or battery acid or, I don't know, gelatin...it's not something messy and yucky but lacking in resonance.  It's...energy.  At this moment of heightened awareness about all things "green", the earth, our big old mama, is leaking energy.  Gushing energy.  Bleeding energy.  And we don't know how to stop it.

So the question came up, "where is the oil leak in my own life?"  Where is it that I am wasting energy?  Letting resources just spill out of me, gush out of me?  Where is it that I am letting vital stamina-making fuel be wasted? 

And what pristine waters in me are being toxified because of it?

How have I attempted, in the early stages of my own oil spill, to cover it up?  To claim it's not as bad as it actually is? To throw garbage on it?  To clamp it down?  To deny it?

And how have I been bribed to look away from where the problem might have originated?  What treats and monies have I taken in exchange for my complicity?

The answers to these questions are surprisingly uncomplicated.  I, in innumerable ways, allow my own ecosystem to get covered in toxic sludge, over and over again.  My oil is envy, it's despair, it's hopelessness, it's vanity, it's greed, it's worry, it's fear.  Man oh man, is it fear.  And I look away, and I claim that I am not responsible.  I am not responsible, but somebody better clean this up, because damn it, it's costing me.  It is costing me peace and it is costing me money and it is costing me precious valuable resources that could be so much better served--used to power education and mobility and service and advancement--instead of just spilled, barrel upon barrel, into the ocean. Which is me.  Which is my life.

I am not, I promise, trying to get into a bunch of new-agey "I don't have to worry about the world around me because it's all iiiiiiiin meeeeeee" world-view-ing, I'm really not.  In fact I feel more and more convinced that we must (I must) we must get MORE attentive, MORE outward-facing, MORE action-taking as our spiritual practice evolves, but I also think that there is no way to look at what is going on "out there" and not turn inward.  How can I expect that "out there" to get cleaned up, when I am a walking oil spill way too often in my own life? 

So the question then becomes, in this (forgive me!) anthropomorphizing of what is a true disaster in the real world--is it possible to take a look at what is going on out there and promise to do better in here?  Can there be a direct communication between natural world and internal world, where each is constantly endlessly reflected in the other? 

Can I finally say enough is enough this is no one's responsibility but my own I AM CLEANING THIS OIL SPILL UP!?!

I don't know.  I hope so.  I'm trying.

Lo Siento!!

(that is the only spanish I remember from highschool.  That and "ET telephono mi casa!" from the spanish-dubbed version of ET watched on some we've-run-out-of-real-work friday afternoon)

I'm sorrry I've been a little absentee from Shanti-town the last week or so...my boyfriend's folks were in town and we have been showing them a good time...I'm also knee-deep in several small projects (many of which you will hear more about in the coming days.)

In the meantime, please send my your yoga-in-the-world photos!! Only a few days left and I have gotten some really awesome submissions so far!!

I wanna see your aaaaaaaaaaaaaart!!

xo
YogaLia

Shanti-town Goes to Kiwi Land!!

Hello, lovely readers! It's been a very exciting week for Shanti-town...first my first ever Photo Contest (submit! submit! submit!), and now this!

That's right! It turns out one of Shanti-town's loyal readers is the creator and proprietor of an awesome online magazine out of New Zealand called The Yoga Lunchbox...and this week I was commissioned to write an article for the Guest Authors portion of the site. It was such an honor and a pleasure...thank you, Yoga Lunchbox!!

Check out the article here...and have a look around while you're at it...it's a great site with lots of excellent writing on yoga and meditation and life...

Clean Enough For Ya?

 *um...no, this is NOT me and my dude.  Neither of us are this blonde or...sex-pot-ish.  Is it weird to post a picture of people other than us?  It's not my fault...I'm detoxing.


Let me first say that moving to Los Angeles from New York does not, as one might think from all the jokes about Angeleno's and their wheat grass and oxygen bars--it does not foster, for many, a trimming down of the waistline.  Quite the opposite, actually.  Take the following fun fact as example: a New Yorker walks on average of 5 miles PER DAY!! 5 miles a day, people...that's 35 miles/week!  That's 1,820 miles a year!  On foot. Walking.  Burning calories and toning butt-ocks-es. And probably 800 of those miles are logged just going up and down subway stairs.

An Angeleno, on the other hand, averages on a daily basis, I don't know...500 feet? Maybe.  It depends how many times you have to go to the bathroom.

Plus, since everyone is trapped in their cars and apartments all day (or, if you happen to be one of the lucky few with steady employment...your office/studio/what-have-you)...all the socializing centers around food and drink.  And also drink.  And occasionally alcohol.  And booze.  And sometimes beer.  And drinking.  Have I said that there is a lot of drinking that happens here?

You get the picture.

So, my mister and I have been feeling the pinch of this.  Or, the opposite of the "pinch" actually...the bulge.  The bloat.  The I-feel-like-I'm-made-of-sausage feeling that comes from excessive intake and rare mobilizing, and so, for the second time this year, we have embarked on (gasp!) a cleanse.  A "detox" diet, actually.  Not the crazy one where you just drink lemon water and maple syrup, a much more sane one, but still one that disallows: (hold on to your hats...)

Alcohol, caffeine, sugar, dairy, wheat, oats, white rice, soy products, red meat, nightshades (eggplants, tomatoes, potatoes, mushrooms),  peanuts and...what else?  Um, fun?  Yes, I think that's on the no-no list as well.

We've done this diet once before and for three weeks we limited ourselves only to food on the "Yes" list, which is basically brown rice, vegetables, chicken and cashew nuts, but this time we are doing the full enchilada (no enchiladas allowed though)--so not only can we only have foods on the Yes list, we are also only allowed a smoothie for breakfast and a blended soup for dinner. And there has to be a 12-hour window between dinner at night and breakfast the next morning.

!!

It's the soup for dinner that really kills me.  The smoothie...that's great...I look forward to that.  I wake up excited about that (mainly because I'm starving, as I've only eaten a bowl of freakin' SOUP for dinner. And that was like 14 hours ago.) But still, I'm good with that.  The lunch, also good--there is actually a lot that can be done with the allowed ingredients, and it's nice to have a big festive meal for lunch, but the soup for dinner is just...depressing.

Dinner is the meal I look forward to!  Dinner means the day is over and the night is beginning.  Dinner means socializing.  Dinner means--I've made it through the afternoon and now I can relax!  Dinner means a glass of wine and something delicious!  But not anymore, not for us, now dinner means...a mug of blended soup.

Mmmmmmm.

BUT, on the plus side--I have felt, I think we both have felt actually, that even though it's been hard and sort of just...boring.  (Truly, truly booooooring)  There is something about eating this way that really does just make a body feel GOOD.  I have more energy--or at least my energy is steady, and not so up and down all day long, and a few days this week during and after lunch I have been filled with such a peaceful calm, which feels decidedly physiological--as if my body is sending me a little thank you for not over-taxing it with booze and french fries, in the form of hours of sweet peaceful goodness.  Also I just love to say "I'm detoxing" as the explanation for any and all ailments and/or behaviors that occur during said cleanse.

"I'm detoxing."

And we are at this interesting moment, with four days left to go in the detox diet (the name of which, by the way, is The Clean Program, for any interested parties), where we are both fantasizing about all the stuff we want to eat (last night I started spontaneously waxing poetic about grilled cheese sandwiches) and also really feeling like we'd like to keep some or many of the habits we've developed around eating, in place...a small breakfast and dinner and large lunch, meals composed mainly of healthy fresh whole foods....and sometimes in my private fantasies I think, yes, I am going to eat this way forever.  Now begins my new life with food, eating only what is on the "Yes" list, finally working my way towards biochemical perfection.

But the truth is...I'm a foodie.  Both my mister and I are.  We love good food and we love food culture.  We love experimenting with foods and sampling from all kinds of cultures and sources.  And we like love a good bottle of wine.  And I don't want to give that part of our life up...so the question becomes, how is it that we integrate the habits that make us feel good and like we're functioning at the top of our game AND continue to have fun?

And I wasn't going to even make a yoga allusion in this post, but now I can't help myself...as I've been thinking so much about this in the world of yoga as well...and in the world of art-making, really, in any facet of my life that feels big and important, or that is at the very least susceptible to self-seriousness or grandiosity...how is that one maintains devotion and as deep a concentration as is warranted WITHOUT crossing over into deprivation or rigidity?  How is that we can learn to be...moderate?

Because I, personally, do not want to live in a world where a perfect juicy burger and a nice glass of wine (maybe not in the same meal, but you get my point)--aren't allowed once in while....

Photo Contest UPDATE!!

Get this, Shanti-Towners...the good folks at My Yoga Online were so impressed with our little photo contest idea that they have offerred to give away free 2-week memberships to EVERYONE who enters!  Hooray!

I'm so excited to see your pics! Yoga in the world, bring it on! Make me proud! Make me look good for the givers-away-ers of prizes!!

xo
YogaLia

Send me your pics to laprile@gmail.com by June 30th.  I'll try to put some kind of Photo Contest link on the side tab somewhere to make sending easier.

Shanti-Town's First Prize Giveaway!! My Yoga Online

My Yoga Online founders, Kreg Weiss and Michelle Trantina, courtesy of My Yoga Online

That's right, shanti-towners, it's prize time!

To what do we owe this gifting?  Well, let's just say it's because you're AWESOME.  And I've got a membership to give away...more on that in a moment.  First, the contest!

Since Shanti-town is all about yoga in relationship to real-life (the real kind, the kind with mess-ups and swearing and stuff, as well as the kind with inspiration and poetry and love-love-double-love), I thought it would be really fun* to have a photo contest!  Also, I have this sponsored prize I am lucky enough to give away, and I wanted there to be a fun way to choose the recipient--more fun than just, you know, "first one to leave a comment gets it."  So, without further ado, I present to you the  

First Official Shanti-Town Yoga in the World Photo Contest-a-thon!!!

*um, actually, my boyfriend gave me the idea for the photo contest.  Full disclosure.

(marching band! streamers! whistling!)

The idea is simple, find or take a picture of something that represents, for you, yoga in real life.  It can be directly yoga related, or it can be a picture of...um...a bird that looks like a yogi...or...the way your girlfriend's face looks while she's sleeping.  Anything that makes you think, feel, or hear YOGA (or even what you imagine yoga to be...if you're not a practitioner yourself)...I want to see it!

I have a bunch of new readers that I've not had the chance to hear from and I would love to get a little pictoral view into your hearts and minds.

AND NOW FOR THE GOOD STUFF...(drumroll please)...the P-R-I-Z-E!!!

I got this great offer from My Yoga Online (a site which I will elaborate on in a moment) to give away one free 2-week unlimited membership to their site to one of my readers.  Not only is this awesome because finally I get to be one of those blogs who gives stuff away (heh heh), but also because I've now been introduced to a new yoga site that is actually pretty dang awesome.

My Yoga Online is a treasure-trove of yoga and wellness--they have hundreds of hours of videos (classes, lectures and workshops) that you can stream or download, most of them taught by renowed teachers in the yoga community.  They've got flow classes and vinyasa classes and pre-natal classes and classes for waking up and classes for going to bed...they even have videos with meditation instructions, meditations on sounds, meditations on thoughts...there are even lectures and interviews (for all you total yoga nerds out there.  Like, um, myself).

In addition to the videos they have tons of informative articles on yoga, nutrition and well-being, a feature where you can create and host your own blog or wellness diary on their site, and best of all...they are building a whole community of users who you can interact with, ask questions of, and connect to.

For my readers who aren't avid class-goers, either due to nerves about group practice or a hectic schedule, this kind of online yoga community can be a really great option.  The class videos range from 5-90 minutes in length and there are all levels of practice to choose from, from beginning to advanced, and you can search by length, level and teacher, which just makes everything easier.

So, to the lucky winner of the First Official Shanti-Town Yoga in the World Photo Contest-a-thon shall go one free two-week unlimited membership to My Yoga Online.

Even if you're not a prize-motivated-person (and hats off to you), participate! Do it! Photo me up, yo!

Send your photo to me at laprile@gmail.com by Wednesday, June 30th! I'll post the finalists once I get 'em and the winner will be chosen at random.

Learning to Fall...Longing to Fall.

Handstand.  Beloved, horrifying, handstand.

The first time I tried Thee

I nearly losteth my mind.

Okay people, if you've tried it, you know...if you haven't tried it, you can imagine...if you're a master at it...well, this is old news.  Handstand is SCARY.  Way scarier then headstand (at least then you have two arms AND a head in contact with the ground)...way scarier than forearm stand even (where the ground is so close by).  Handstand takes 'em all.  The first time I tried handstand, the idea that my two hands, my ten fingers, could take the weight of my ENTIRE BODY seemed just...ludicrous.

But, many years have passed since then, and handstand has since become more, well, friendly.  I do it a lot. Since coming to Los Angeles it is a part of nearly every class...but still I need a wall or a person to stand near me, to comfort me, to catch me.  I won't totally sell myself short...my form is much improved...when said wall or said person is present I can stick it to that handstand.  I can stay up there for many many many seconds.  If I do say so myself.  (Please imagine confident shoulder waggle here.) 

But take aforementioned wall or aforementioned person AWAY from me, stick me in the middle of the room, and suddenly I'm doing these timid little bunny kicks, my hips just miles away from where they ought to be, which is...balanced.  Over my shoulders.  

And this has been a cause of endless frustration for me.  Because I can not lie to myself...I am strong enough, I am experienced enough and I have the balance to be able to attempt the dreaded handstand alone.  Solo.  No hands (other than mine), No wall.  And so then I must face up to what I am doing: holding back.  

Holding. Back.  

And here is where the practice both delights and infuriates me...because there is no way for me to look at that and not acknowledge the other areas of my life in which I am doing just that--the other areas of my life in which I KNOW I am strong enough, flexible enough, have enough balance to try with everything I have in me, but still I am only putting it out halfway--I am timid bunny kicking when I ought to be using all of the tools I know I have to just stick that mo-fo.  And why?  For what?  For fear--fear of falling, fear of humiliating myself, fear of failing, ultimately, and because it gives me another opportunity to bring back the comfort and the safety of that wall or that extra set of hands.  Safety.  Even though it requires a dimming of my own light (sorry, geeking out...almost done)...even though it requires a DIMMING OF MY OWN LIGHT, still, I choose safety.

Well, last week when I was at the studio, one of my new favorite teachers, Emily Burton, arrived early to work with one of her students on falling, and I quickly insinuated myself into the lesson.  A lesson which was comprised of, falling out of handstand...over and over and over again.  And by the end of our session I felt so confident and so ready to tackle the dreaded HS on my own in my next class--certain I would no longer be frightened.

And today, I took class...and (insert sad clowny wah-wah music here)...no cigar!! Still, still, still tiny timid half-assed little kicks.  No stickin' it.  No victory.  And as I knelt between each go around I kept asking myself, "what is your problem?  You KNOW you can fall.  You've done it.  You're not going to die."  But each time, there I was...holding back.  There were a lot of people in the class and so even the falling seemed more...frightening.  Until finally I had to call someone over to be my safety.

But after class I was determined...and once I had finished my little studio chores, I dragged my mat into a side room and planted myself smack-dab in the middle of the floor, determined to kick this fear bug-a-boo.  

And at first it was STILL (still!) those same little half-attempts...holding back, holding back, holding back.  Afraid, even then--what if I fall wrong? What if my mat slips out from underneath me...and on and on.

And then finally, I sat myself down, and issued the edict that it was Time To Fall.  You must fall 3 times in a row, I told myself, so that you can remind yourself that it can be done, that you can fall and survive.

So I set myself up, I lined myself all up nicely, I took a breathe, and I kicked up...not to do a handstand this time, but merely to fall...

AND I DID IT.  

I did a handstand.  And I held it, for several seconds.  By myself.

(and then I fell)

 

Once it was over I rolled onto my back, stuck my two hands under my head, like a cloud-gazer--and I just laughed and laughed.  I did it! I did it!  And what had done it?  What had pushed me over the edge?  The intention to fall.  Because it was a get-out-of-jail free card for me--an opportunity to let go of control--to sail head-first into failure instead of spending so much time resisting it, holding back, what if.  And as soon as I did--there it was--success.  Strong, solid, balanced, happy...success.

I was giddy, and repeated the trick, just to make sure it wasn't magic, and each time...with permission to fall...I didn't.  I stuck it.  I balanced.

We are such amazing creatures, we humans, and it is proven to me over and over again that I can accomplish so much more WITHOUT my own interference, than with.

I love you all, Shanti-Towners, and I encourage each of you today, in some way big or small, to just let yourself...fall.

xo

YogaLia

You Know You're a Yoga Nerd When...

You see this, on the back of a car:

And you, for just one second, think that it stands for this:

Sleeping and Waking...

So, I'm trying to start a meditation practice.

Again.

But this time, I'm being smart.  I have set what I feel like is an ACCOMPLISHABLE goal.  15 minutes, once a day.  I'm trying for everyday, but satisfied with as many days as I remember to do it.  In the past I have always shot for loftier...once I tried an hour a day (yeah. need i say more?)...once I tried 20 minutes 2x a day, and then once per day and even that became, I don't know...unmanageable.  And so, pride gritting its teeth all the way, I have decided to aim for a modest and meager 15 minutes.  15 minutes is doable.  For now, it's doable.

I could say much more on the foggy definition (for me) of a seated practice, what I think it means and definitely doesn't mean, and what kind of discipline in combination with vision I feel I need to have in order to even begin to feel that SOMETHING is being accomplished.  But that's not what I want to talk about.  I want to talk about my legs.  Well, my one leg.  Well...my foot really.  Because, no matter how I practice, or for how long...

My one foot always (ALWAYS) falls asleep.

And last time it happened, I had a small realization:

I was meditating in a tiny little phone-booth like room (don't ask)...doing my diligent 15 minutes, and for whatever reason the foot falling-asleep-ness was particularly severe, so much so that upon rising I had to lean against a wall, both palms pressed flat to it, the frozen foot hovering in the air, just waiting for the awakening to begin. 

First the foot is like a dummy...it looks as it is: fast asleep.  Held next to my other bare foot it truly does look...dormant...somehow.  And then, the waves of pressure begin--deep wide crests of tingles, spreading across the foot and up the leg.  It's unbearable (but also pleasureable, oddly), and the feeling is so intense I can't do anything but let my eyes close and my mouth hang open and wait.  These are the nerves waking up.  This is the foot coming back to life, and it is shocking to me how much sensation floods across the sole, arch, ankle, calve...just to bring this one little appendage to alertness.  And then, just as it comes, it subsides, the tingles dissipating, the foot returning to "normal".  Able to be walked on, matched up now with its twin other foot. 

And as I began to walk--to leave the little room and head back into my day--I thought about what it means to Wake Up.

I thought that my foot, were it a life, it's own little consciousness, well maybe it has just emerged from what could be called a dark night of the soul.  It was sleeping deeply...but did not know it was asleep...it was deadened, numb,  not feeling pleasant or unpleasant, just...asleep.  And then it was asked to move, to venture forth, but could not possibly do so in it's sleeping state, and so it was forced to wake.  But the waking wasn't easy, I thought, and maybe it never is.  It is unbearable--it is an unbearable intense deep sensation--but it is not a PROBLEM...it is just nerves, waking up.  But the pain of it, the pain and pleasure and strangeness of it is enough to leave one breathless...speechless...only able to lean against a solid surface and wait it out.  It is unbearable...to feel again...to feel each nerve as it comes back to life.  Who knew there were so many nerves and endings in that one little space of flesh. 

This must always be what it is to wake up:

Unbearable sensation...so intense it leaves you palms flat against a wall--you can do nothing but watch, feel it all ripple through you, wait for it to pass, and be flabbergasted by how much you have been asleep to all those firings of all those nerves.

And then, when it's over, there is nothing to gawk at...just a setting down of the next foot and the next, with nothing else but the knowledge that you were just asleep...and are now awake.