Buy Soap, Accomplish Less...

Does reading other people's blog posts count as writing?

(Please don't answer that).

I am on a writing regiment. I have assigned myself a certain number of hours a day to write, and for the most part it has been swimmingly easy. On many days it goes by so quickly I think, well, shoot...I could double this.  But on other days, (today, for instance), the allotted time feels like a pitch-y cavern laid out in front of me. One that I desperately want to avoid. And so, as my designated start time approaches I will suddenly find myself accomplishing a whole list of very necessary tasks that, no, can not be done at any other moment except this one. Ordering that face wash I've run out of. Checking my spam email for stray job offers, giant checks, missives from long-lost friends. Putting laundry in. Taking laundry out. Making a list of all the other very necessary tasks that I ought to get done at least that day, if not right this very minute.

And the time ticks by.

Procrastination, I believe they call this. (Who me? No...I'm just being productive in other ways.)  In The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali he lists procrastination as one of the nine obstacles to practice. He doesn't call it procrastination, in the Sutras it's referred to as styana, or self-defeat. Self-defeat. As in, I have made an agreement with myself that I'm going to do this thing that I want to do, that's important to me, that makes me feel better in the doing of it, but I--the other I, the other half of this contracted pair--am going to go ahead and disobey that agreement, ruining the whole plan from the outset.

In the midst of procrastination, both of these I's are present. If they weren't, there would be no conflict, right? It wouldn't be an uncomfortable state. The problem with procrastination, this styana, this self-defeat, is that both the you who made the decision to take the action and the you who now doesn't want (for whatever reason) to take said action, are present. And they are duking it out. 

This to me seems to be at the heart of all personal conflict.  There is the you that wants what's best, and there is the you that doesn't want to comply, or doesn't think she's capable of complying, or doesn't think she's worthy of complying, and those two you's are at war. Even the term "self-defeat" implies that there is a SELF (a bigger self, a she-who-knows-best-eth) and then there is that which defeats the self. These two forces are not equal--there is truth, and then the destruction of it.  There is me, and then all the crap I do to get in my way.

And what I love about this, and the philosophies of yoga at a whole, is that the basis of understanding, the hypothesis is that what is underneath, what rises up when we stop doing all of the stuff we do to get in our own way--is good.  That the big Self, is good. And contains in her all of the truth that we're after and the growth we're seeking and all of it. And that there is not, then, some perfect action that we have to take, all we have to do is stop defeating her. Allow her to be. Stop procrastinating. And see what happens...

FRESHness...

I had an experience in a class I was taking, many moons ago, in which we were doing partner poses, and I, pro that I thought I was, was proudly holding up one of my partners legs, when I heard from across the room the rather stern voice of my teacher, calling out:

"Lia! What are you doing? You're spotting the wrong pose!"

And I looked down to discover that, indeed, I was spotting my partner in the non-rotated version of the rotated pose we were supposed to be doing.

"Notice that." my teacher said, rather brusquely, "You're not paying attention."

And for many minutes afterwards I fumed, silently, about the way she'd spoken to me. I felt scolded. I felt reprimanded. I felt called-to-task.  All of which, I was. And all for good reason. Because she was right--I wasn't paying attention. And I knew it.

I have, over the last several weeks, been noticing a lot of this in my own classes. Students jumping ahead, assuming they know where we're going, when most often, they do not. Students going through the motions without listening either to me or to their bodies, when it's clear to me from across the room, that either I have just said something...or their body has...and that it has been ignored. I am sensitive to it these days.  It gets under my skin.

I think about stories of spiritual masters who give "shaktipat", the experience of instant enlightenment--the direct transference of awakeness from themselves to their students--and how some have been known to give it with a quick smack at an opportune time. That was what my aforementioned teacher gave to me. A well-placed THWACK to shake me out of my sleepiness.

But, it's not a surprising thing--all of us, anyone who does anything with repetition, anyone who practices anything, is going to fall occasionally under the spell of their own expertise and fool themselves into thinking they don't have to pay attention anymore. It happens in yoga, it happens in art, it happens in relationships...things get known, they get forgotten...and they get stale.

And so this word, freshness, has been coming to mind. Such a perfect word: fresh. One of those lovely words that is how it sounds and sounds how it is. Fresh. Freeeeeeeeesh. Fresssssssshhhhhhhhh. 


There are ways to be "present" that just involve the mental regurgitation of the learned pattern of things, meaning: Here's a tree. I know what a tree looks like. Here is my mental picture of tree, laminated over the top of that actual living tree. Isn't that pretty. And there are ways to be present which require an absolute newness, as in: Branches moving. Leaves fluttering. Solid trunk. New moss on the ground. Heat vibrating off bark. 

One requires more effort than the other.  

And in the practice of yoga, we are asked to practice the latter. We are asked to use our breath as a guide.  The breath, which is never ever ever the same (not ever once will this inhale be the same as the last) but is a perfect teacher because it can be mistaken for sameness. If you're not looking closely, the breath could just seem like the same pattern, repeated over and over. So, in order to see it for what it really is, in order to keep attention on the breath, in order for it to be FRESH, you really have to be there with it. You really have to be feeling out, each inhale and each exhale.  And, that is the way we are supposed to be coming to our practice.  Every time, as if it's new. Even the poses (especially the poses) we have done 100,000 times before--we are supposed to be looking with fresh eyes. Every time. What's new about this? Have I seen this? Have I really seen it? Or am I just holding myself in this position, because it's the way I've done it before, and so that's the way I'm going to do it now. Am I paying attention?

THWACK!

Am I paying attention?

Back in Action...

So, you may very well be asking yourselves, if you're still reading this blog...if ANYONE is still reading this blog...

Um...where did the blogger go? 

I, the bloggee...I am here, dutifully it seems, more dutifully than aforementioned blogger. So...what's with that? One can not exist without the other. Especially after one (aformentioned bloggee) has already combed through the archives to see if there's anything either a. interesting to read, so that your visit to this blog was not a complete waste of time, or b. some explanation as to the radio silence.

I am hopeful that there is some of option a. available.  I am well aware there is none of option b.

Oh, Shanti-Towneres...where do I begin?

First of all, let me assure you that there is no tragedy or crises or meltdown to be blamed for my absence. That is a good thing. However, that does mean that blame rests squarely on my shoulders for this stunning lack of blog upkeep over the past several months. 

The honest truth, and put as simply as I am able--I am having a re-shifting of priorities. And I haven't quite known how to talk about it. At least, not here. My family and closest friends have had earfuls. But  you, sweet Shanti-towners, many of whom are ALSO close friends...I have not known how to talk to you about it, mainly because:

1.  I don't want to seem like this girl:

2. Because it's complicated, yo.  And;

3. Well, because, most everyone in my life has been so supportive of my embrace of yoga and my transition into teaching, that I haven't wanted to let anyone down or seem like a flaaaaaaake. (Again, please reference video, above).

Now, the whys and what-fors of this re-calibration are really, I promise you, deadly boring, unless you live inside my head, or maybe if you're married to me, and even then, it's only interesting insofar as it relates to my day-to-day happiness.

But the outcome of the why-ing and what-for-ing is: I have realized I am not done pursuing a career as a writer and actress. I thought that I might be. It turns out I'm not. So. What does that mean to you?

Well, possibly absolutely nothing. But, if you're a reader of this blog, it just means that the focus of my writing here and my exploration about life and practice and love and and and...will just be expanding a bit to (re)include my creative work, as well as my yoga practice.  Other than that...onward and upward!

Thank you, so much, for hanging in there.

I'm back. I promise. For reals.

xo

YogaLia

Introducing...Lady Libertine!!

Dear friends and family of Shanti Town...may I please introduce you to Lula Graves and her new AMAZING skincare line...Lady Libertine!

Hooray!

Lula is a dear friend, and over the last many months she has been like a scientist in her lab, working and experimenting to create the best possible ALL NATURAL, EDIBLE, skin care products, and now finally they are available for sale.  Hoorah!  Several months ago she asked me to be a guinea pig, and gave me a trial of the four products, the Honey Cleanse, the Day Oil, the Night Oil and the Wunderbalm, and asked me to keep track of my skin's reaction and give her my feedback.  Shanti-towners, I can not tell you how much I love this stuff.

I have been looking for a few years now for a line of facial care products that were totally natural and WORKED.  I don't believe in slathering chemical things on my skin BUT after moving to Los Angeles I was having some reactions from the dry weather--mainly "forehead bumps".  So I needed something.

And Lady Libertine came to my rescue.

From day one of use I noticed a difference.  My skin felt fed.  Nourished.  Clean. I have already re-ordered with Lula a few times (as I just had little sample sizes to start).  The products are lovely, simple to use, and have left my skin moisturized and supple and totally blemish free.  No more forehead bumps.  Gone. Vanquished.

Not only that, the prices are incredibly reasonable.  Go now, to her site, ladylibertinebeauty.com, and place yourself an order.  You won't regret it.  And right now, to celebrate her debut, Lula is offering a 15% discount on orders of $100 or more for the entire month of June. Just enter the code LONGLIVELIBERTINE and enjoy!

xo
YogaLia

Please Continue Being Awesome, Meghan Currie....

...so that I continue to watch you do stuff like this:

Starting Over. And over. And over. And over.

I am a terrible journal-er.

I have always tried to be a good journal-writer, and in my more angst-y teens and twenties, I was fairly diligent about it.

I wrote
A lot of poems
That weren't really poems,
but just long, long sentences,
that I divided up
into separate lines
for meaning
and

emphasis.

But, as I've gotten older, my journaling has become more sporadic and every year less and less excusable.  In my mind, I always imagine I'm going to be one of those older women with boxes of journals that highlight her artistic and spiritual development. Little works of art that she can pass down to her children and grandchildren.  But, in order for that to be reality, I would have to be one of those women who journaled about all the beauty in her life. One of those people who filled her journal with tiny paintings and detailed descriptions of the blooming orange tree at the bottom of her steps. (I have one of those, btw...it has never appeared in my journal).  Or better still, one of those women who wrote only about her ideas...about projects and images and all kinds of other healthy, adjusted, artistic stuff.

I would have to be one of those women and not, as I am, the kind of woman whose journal is full of awkward diatribes about ongoing neurosis, and the occasional poem;

Still written,
as are all the others,
line by line.
By line.
You can not know,
the power of the line break...
until you've tried it.
Namaste.

So, what I end up with are boxes full of journals, full of weird embarrassing gobbeldy-gook. The idea being, that writing the gobbeldy-gook will get it out of my head and onto paper. But most often what actually happens is that it gets out of my head, and onto the paper, and then back into my head again...amplified. Heh heh.

And the worst part? The journals? The ones in the box? They're all only half-full.

Because, at some point, with every one, the percentage of healthy to neurotic journaling tips in favor of the neurotic, I get embarrassed, I vow to change my ways, and then I realize that what I really need, what's really going to help me turn over a new leaf...is a new journal.

So, I box up the old half-full one, I pull out a fresh brand spanking new leather bound treasure trove of possibility, I breathe a deep sigh of relief, and I start over. Blank page. Fresh start. New me.

Only to have the same thing happen, all over again.

But, enough is enough, people! Sitting next to me on the couch right now, as I type this is, is my current journal. You would not be allowed to read it. I really want to abandon it. I really want to close it up, tape it up, and throw it the f* away. So that I can start over. So that I can pretend to start over. So that I can have the momentary satisfaction of the ritual of starting over. But, not this time.  One of my teachers said recently that the practice of yoga is the practice of focus. Of continuing. Of remaining steady. And if I can't make a positive change in what I'm putting out, even in the small world of this leather-bound book, without having to throw everything away and start over...then what am I teaching myself?

It's easy to start again.  It's easy to toss everything up in the air and feel like the world is just possibility. What's hard is to hang in there. What's hard is to allow yourself to stray from the path, to delve deep into teenage poetry, and then to come back to yourself again. Without punishment. And, without having to get rid of everything that came before.

Am I the Last to Know?

Have you all seen this?

Am I way behind?

This is, without a doubt, one of the most inspiring stories I've heard/seen in a very long time.  I donated to this little love-bug's college fund, and if you've got a few extra shillings laying around, you should to!