Category: Lifestyle

Check out this guest post by Tracy Moore, who has done research on how athletes are using yoga to up their game and performance. Wonderful to see how yoga can help us all toward functional fitness!

When it comes to health and fitness nobody knows their body more than athletes. Many of them have been training since childhood and have perfected their method of not only staying fit but also injury free. Athletes from all different kinds of sports use yoga as a vital part of their exercise regime and in this article we look at four examples of sports stars who count on yoga to help them improve their performances.

Maria Sharapova

The tennis star and Grand Slam Champion is known for being one of game’s most athletic competitors. She has won every Grand Slam at least once and has been world number 1. Mind Body Green reported that Sharapova did a video for Nike in 2010 detailing her yoga regime. According to the health site Sharapova said, “When I do yoga it also allows me to sort of think about what I have to do, how my body is going to go into the next position, and breathing into stretches. It’s almost mentally stabilizing in one place.” Yoga is a great way to refocus the mind especially if you are constantly in highly competitive situations.

Kevin Love

The Cleveland Cavaliers star Kevin Love has invested heavily in yoga to improve his game. In an interview with Stack.com he said, “my business is my body, I thought that yoga would be a great way to make my body feel better, so I’ve integrated it into my workouts.” Yoga instructor Kent Katich, who also instructs LeBron James and Blake Griffin, believes that yoga helps control negative emotions which can in turn lead to mistakes. Everyone in life gets stressed out and annoyed, but it is how we react to those pressures that show how in control we are. Players such as Love and LeBron are successful because they can always keep a cool head even when the game isn’t going their way.

Sally Fitzibbons

Australian professional surfer Sally Fitzgibbons is no stranger to exercise. Her sport requires strength, balance, endurance, and stamina, all of which she has mastered in order to be considered one of best in the world. In an interview with Cooler Lifestyle she named yoga as one of “ best exercises for surfing” due to the need to get “strong enough to withstand all that power the ocean throws at you when you’re out there.” Many people believe that yoga isn’t a valid exercise, when in fact it can be hugely demanding on the body and help increase strength and endurance.

Ryan Giggs

If you ever need proof that yoga can help you stay at the top of your game for longer then look no further than soccer star Ryan Giggs. The Telegraph reported that at the age of 40 Giggs was still playing regular first team soccer for one of the biggest clubs in the world: Manchester Untied. Most soccer players retire if they are lucky in their early 30’s. Speaking to the paper Giggs said “[yoga] strengthens your muscles, improves flexibility, but also keeps you fit and gets you out on the training pitch so you can train every day.” Such was his dedication to the game and his own health that Premier League experts Betfair in their detailed profile on the Wales legend called him “one of the greatest players in the club’s illustrious history.”

Hopefully this has shown you how yoga is used by some of the biggest sports stars on the planet to enhance their game. If it can help them be the best at their sport it can also help you in achieving your goals.

Thanks Tracy 🙂

I stared up the hill and really didn’t know if I could do it. I have the lung capacity of a hamster and I was already sitting at over 12,500 feet. And while I may be a good yogi, my leg strength is wimpy. Chickens are stronger. I cry during squats.

But at the top of that 30 minute climb was a powder bowl and a view of the Rockies. And more importantly, I wanted to prove that I could do the climb. I wanted to get off the groomers and push my personal limits. I was doing it on my own, which made the challenge even better. No one was talking me into it. This choice was all mine.

I started up the hill, joining a line of trekkers with their skies and boards hoisted over their shoulders. My expression probably matched what I saw in theirs: rueful and grim determination. I hunched forward against the severe pitch of the hill go keep my balance. With every step, I shoved the toe of my boot deep into the snow to find purchase on the slope. Even so, I slid back several times, and one time fell forward onto my knees. The thin air took a toll on my hamster lungs; I had to stop every twenty steps for some good open-mouth gasping. About two thirds of the way up the climb, I realized that the summit that I had been pursuing was false: after a tiny plateau, there was more of the hill to go.

It was my personal Everest.*

When I made it to the top, I grinned like an idiot even as I sprawled out into the snow to recover. When I finally got to my feet, the view from the top was spectacular, the Colorado Rockies ringed the view like a necklace. The powder in the bowl would also prove to be epic (at one point I screamed, “It’s so fluffy!” like the crazed girl from Despicable Me).  But the true triumph of that afternoon was climbing that hill. I was proud that I had chosen to do something that I knew would be tough simply for the joy and experience of pushing my own limits.

In our daily lives, we can become slowly swaddled by self-limiting beliefs that are cozy, but confining. We become habituated to who we think we are and what we think we can do. When we take up the call to adventure, we elbow our way out of these constraints and create space for a fresh and expansive understanding.We are deliberately setting off into Terra Incognita in order to  experience ourselves freshly in a new world. However, when we embark upon an adventure (whether’s it’s travelling to a far off country, raising a child, writing a book, or climbing a snowy hill), we can never control how it goes. We may fail, we may flourish. But the attempt reveals our capacity to stretch our wings wide and try.

I invite 2017 to be your year of adventure.

Adventures of all sizes will do: trying salsa dancing, taking on a new fashion, meditating, trying a sport, meeting one new person a day, or navigating a challenging conversation. Every adventure – small or large – expands our range of personal possibility.

Step into Terra Incognita – arms wide open – and reach towards the edges of the your own wonderful, wide world!

*Humbling fun fact: Everest is twice as high.

George Michael is the last straw.

The list of fallen heroes in 2016 has become too long. David Bowie, Prince, Alan Rickman, Anton Yelchin, Gene Wilder, Gary Shandling, Leonard Cohen. Some, like exceptional author and Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel, died at an age appropriate time. Wiesel was 87. The sting of his death seems lessened by the span of his life.

But losing so many of our bright luminaries who are only in their 50’s ad 60’s seems…well, wrong. They’re too young to go. For those of Generation X, it’s a shocking wake up call to see our high school heroes die. These are the guys that that we rocked out to – Molly Ringwald and Kevin Bacon style – at our high school dances. For many of us, death is circling coming close for the first time, wagging a finger in admonishment at the comforting thought that his reaping was a few decades away. Not so. He’s at the door.

With the sick and dying sequestered away in hospitals, I often can live in a benign denial of my own mortality. But this year is different. The parade of celebrity deaths is a wake up call. It cannot be avoided. Time’s ominous and relentless hand is visible, clearing a path. The veil of happy immortality that I like to wear over my eyes is thinning, weakening.

Death extends a hand in invitation. Come closer, he says. Why not? I’m always here.

Death’s presence is clarifying. Like a sudden wind, he blows away everything petty and irrelevant. The small stuff loses its grasp and flakes off. The squabbles, the grievances, and our eternal to do lists become paper in the wind. When we let death come close, he whispers his riddle in our ear: “What makes your life worthwhile?” He strips us to the bones of our humanity. We sit naked in the present moment, suddenly awake, attuned to our aliveness. In the clarity of death’s presence, we reconnect to the core values that give our souls satisfaction. We see our loved ones with fresh eyes, feel our bodies in the present moment. We feel gratitude and awe at our own heartbeat. We marvel at the mystery of what it is to be alive.

In the winter darkness before the near year, sit close to death. Let him whisper his riddle in your ear. Allow his proximity to shake you out of your habitual sleepiness and point the way to your connection to your own precious and wild aliveness. Dare. Love. Laugh loudly. Sing off-key. Kindle your light in the dark.

Hold hands with death, and then go boldly dance with life.

I experience anxiety and depression.

In my life, I have fallen into despair and loneliness, had suicidal thoughts, cut myself to purge the pain, taken anti-depressants, and curled up on my floor in isolation. I’ve held hands with terrible feelings and had many “dark nights of the soul.”

I am sharing this confession because I want you to know that you are not alone. Society encourages a pleasant disposition. Public media feeds such as Instagram and Facebook show us photos of friends, adventures, happy families, and celebratory events. Yoga – branded by vibrancy, positivity and Lululemon smiles – may seem unwelcoming to those who don’t currently feel like life is great.

You may start to think you’re the only one who feels so bad.

The pressure to be pleasant may deprive you of the opportunity to connect honestly with your fellow soul travellers. Or even worse, it may deprive you of the opportunity to connect with yourself.

Our mats are not places to be perfect, or even places that we have to be particularly happy. They are places to be authentic. The mat is a place where it’s okay to cry. They are places to give ourselves permission to feel, practice self-care, and use our beautiful physical bodies to potentially shift our experiences. We can move with our feelings, rather than cover them up.  If we are anxious or depressed, the physical practice can help us shift our physiological and psychological states, even if it’s just for an hour. We remember that we are more than just our thoughts and emotions. We have a glimpse that there is something stable, pure, and beautiful within each of us.

My invitation: please come to the mat. And bring your whole self.

Bring your fatigue, your soul hunger, your yearning, your imperfection. Bring your sadness, your disappointment, your anger, your fear. Bring your anxiety, bring your depression. The yoga practice celebrates all of your humanity; not just the shiny bits. Of course, bring your joy, your excitement, and your utter magnificence as well. But they are not required for admittance.

Has the yoga practice helped me personally with my anxiety and depression? Yes. It’s one of the reasons that I am a teacher. Yoga has given me an alternate form of self-care, when I’d rather just drink wine, eat cake, and watch Netflix to numb the pain. The yoga practice helps me to find the crack where the light comes in, to break my heart open rather than close. To lean in rather than run away.

I’m going to share a secret with you: most of your yoga teachers don’t do yoga because they are naturally happy, benevolent, and grounded. They are teachers because they also need the practice.

You are not alone.

So come to practice. Your whole self is welcome here.

Let’s light our lamps in the dark.

Have you ever noticed that whenever you have a party, everyone winds up in the kitchen? No matter how much you decorate your living room or spruce up the dining room, everyone winds up chatting in the kitchen, drinks in hand, perched on countertops.

Kitchens are the heart of the home.

We go there to be nourished by both good food and good company. Unlike the dining room, you don’t need a fancy jacket or pressed dress to be welcome there. Casual attire is just fine. And unlike the living room, there’s no large screen television, so we are entertained by conversation rather than Netflix.  Kitchens are where we slow down, chat about our days, and dig our hands into making food for ourselves and loved ones. Kitchens are where we lean a hip into the counter, take a breath, and connect to the other members of our household.

Despite the kitchen’s appeal, we often practice yoga as if we were in our dining rooms. We are well-dressed and concerned with how we appear. We are hasty to try to do things right, and become embarrassed if we use the wrong fork (or in the case of yoga, fall out of tree pose). We sit up straight, mind our language, and resist putting our elbows on the table. Contrast this scene with the kitchen, where we may eat with our fingers, drink straight from the tap, and dissolve into unselfconscious gales of laughter at a good joke.

The invitation: make your mat your kitchen. Forgo formalities, don’t worry about the food between your teeth, and give yourself the permission to be connected and comforted. Seek connection rather than perfection. Like a good homemade meal, let your practice nourish you. Take your time, savour your food. And relish the results.

Wouldn’t the world be a little nicer if we treated everyone as if they were guests in our kitchen? While we can’t bring everyone into our personal kitchen, we can try to bring a little of our kitchen to the world. We can greet people with affection, take the time to connect, pause to really listen. We can nourish others with our good company, and transform the frantic pace of the outside world into the organic rhythm of being human.

Make your mat your kitchen.

Then bring your kitchen to the world.

I’m right! You’re wrong!

Ooooo, it feels so good to be right!! Doesn’t it? Being right is brain happy food. “He is soooooo wrong!” I say, outraged (but somehow gleeful). When I’m right, I feel safe, secure, and wonderful. “I’ve got this.” Control maintained. Oh happy day!

And then my dad says, “Do you want to be right, or do you want to have a relationship?”

My dad: the yogi that has never practiced yoga.

See, according to yoga philosophy, there is no such thing as right/ wrong, at least not if we can step back and take in the big picture. We humans just get confused because our brains love to make comparisons. If I’m good, you’re bad. If I’m dark, you’re light. Tall/ short, thin/ fat…nothing in the world exists except through comparison. We love this duality; it’s how we make meaning. But to often we forget that duality is just a mind tool; it’s not what’s really happening.

According to Tantra, the Universe is Consciousness unfolding itself, simply for the joy and play (lila) of the experience. You are consciousness regarding itself (yourself), and regarding others as well. Your perspective or viewpoint (darsana) is uniquely yours, a special experience of consciousness knowing itself in a particular way. Verily, we are the universe in self-reflection.

Because we are all part of this self-reflection, everyone is an essential and holy component of this grand unfolding. From this higher perspective, we can see that every viewpoint has value, because it is. It is, therefore it is good. “Right” becomes a limited and egoic tantrum of self-assertion, a needing to prove that our own viewpoint is okay. But when we trust that our own perspective is intrinsically of value, the need to be right becomes obsolete.

Instead of right/wronging each other, we can become curious about someone else’s perspective. What have they experienced that it outside the marvelous sum total of your experiences that would cause them to think so differently? How marvelous! How eye-opening! How curious!

So no to right/ wrong. Let’s soften up our hard edges. Out of curiosity – rather than judgment – true compassion and learning are born.

Photo credit. 

Your mind is a beautiful cage.

Glorious, glittering, shiny, and infinitely complex…but a cage nonetheless.

From the time we’re children, we create an understanding of the world and live by the subsequent rules that we create. And for the most part, these beliefs go unchallenged.

• “I can’t sing.”
• “I’m not good at math.”
• “You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.”
• “I can’t do handstand.”

We cruise along in our lives, blithely acting in accordance with these governing beliefs.  And because our mind is so darn persuasive, we often agree to its rules without a second thought.

But your yoga practice is different.

In yoga, we are asked to dive beneath the mind’s advice and admonishments and connect to the intelligence of our bodies and our breath. We deliberately create space from the mind’s relentless and well-meaning chirping (“You’re going to fall!” “You can’t kick into handstand!” “You’re not strong enough!”) in order to pry open some cracks in our armour.

We create space for self-surprise.

There is a part of my practice where my mind jumps in. It’s when I’m practicing handstand. My mind starts its whispering, “You can’t.” While I can’t silence my mind, I can choose to lovingly question its certitude. I focus on my breath. I set my mind’s chatter aside. And then I practice. Some days I fall, and some days I defy my own expectations. By focusing on our breath and letting our body find its own intelligence, we can begin to open the doorway to new possibilities. After all, our mind can only advise based on what it’s already experienced or imagined; new vistas are unimaginable and beyond its scope. The only way to blow our own mind is to create opportunity to transcend our known experience.

In our yoga practice, we experience new possibilities in the form of physical poses (inversion, forward fold, arm balance). We may say, “I never know I could do that!” Ultimately, however, the pose itself doesn’t matter. The pose simply reveals the truth: we don’t need to believe everything that we think.

How might this insight change our world off the mat? When our mind’s cautionary tales are exposed as fiction, suddenly new vistas emerge. Beyond our imagination.

So, say No to self-limiting beliefs.

And say yes to wild possibility.

Fora great article on NLP and limiting beliefs, click here.

“No rushing,” my yoga teacher admonishes sternly.  She’s helping me with backbends.  I’m moving too fast. I take a breath and pause. I slow down. “Good,” she nods, “no rushing.”

Ah, yes, as in yoga, as in life.

Rushing used to make me feel important. “I’m so busy!” I sighed dramatically, secretly thrilled by the sense that I was moving, shaking, and making something happen.

But rushing means autopilot.

Sure, it may look like I’m getting a lot done, but when I rush, I’m not present. So there’s no time to change the way I’m doing something, because the focus is simply get this sucker done. We’re one step ahead the whole way. So we have to run on our brain’s happy habitual grooves, doing everything exactly as we’ve done it before.

Ironically, this isn’t efficient.

When we rush, we forget our keys (our dry cleaning, our kids). We forget to feel (to breathe, to pause, to think, to experience). There’s no time to innovate (change, adjust, improve). We can only survive the rush.

Here’s the funny thing: despite what our brain may be telling us, rushing isn’t about time. Rushing is how we feel on the inside; it’s an internal state. And despite the feeling, it doesn’t get us anywhere more quickly. In fact, rushing often takes up more time, because we miss seeing the possible short cuts along the way.  I don’t have to rush to be efficient when I practice. And how I feel while on the journey is radically different.

This month, Say No to Rushing!

Instead, slow down. Be in the moment. And feel how time and possibility expands.

It’s the month of November and time again for this most remarkable time: saying no.

At first, saying no sounds bad, like a five year old staring at their brussel sprouts. “No! I won’t!” He sticks his tongue out. To me, saying “No” still smells like failure, like I’m a bad sport (bad friend, bad worker, etc.)

That’s why we gotta practice.

Because saying no is a way of saying yes. Saying no asks us, “what is our good stuff worth? And what can we shave away to get it?”

In yoga this month, we’ve said no so far to:

• being small (be big!)
• being isolated (recognize connection!)
• rushing (savour the moment!)

You can start small.

• Say no to the coffee date you don’t really want to go on
• Say no to the extra work project
• Say no to the free tea set that your mom wants to give you (“Nooooo, thank you.”
• Say no to riding the worry train
• Say no to habit

Go on, practice loving on your inner five year old.

Say no.

And say a big old YES to you.

Photo credit.

Props to go to my gal Shandy Rae, who came up with this amazing theme several years ago. Check out her most delicious juice bar cafe in Whistler, BC if you’re there.

I relish new beginnings: new diets (oh my sugar free, pegan fads…you know me!), New Year’s Resolutions, yoga practice plans, website launchings.  I get this rush, a burst of bright satisfaction. The start is intoxicating: I’m making a plan, I’m doing it, yippee!

But then, some way down the line, upholding my intention becomes, well, boring. 

I’m going to the gym, and now it’s part of the routine. I am eating better, and it’s status quo. The initial shine of doing something different and better! has given way to a humdrum-this-is-just-part-of-my-life-feeling.

This is the moment where we “fall off the wagon”  – because we forget there’s a moving wagon in the first place! It’s only a couple weeks later after I’ve eaten three boxes of Timmy Hoho’s do I think, huh, wait a minute. Where was that wagon again? Oh crap, now it’s three miles ahead. Then I’m running again to catch up. And again setting shiny new intentions.

Upholding our best self doesn’t always have to be an uphill battle. Sometimes being our best is about the plateau, the easy cruise, the staying with of our current momentum. Rather than climbing a mountain, now we just have to show up and do it. Even it’s boring. Especially when it’s boring. Because this is the time when we are integrating this change into the fabric of who we are.

Yes, enjoy the rocket launch of your start, but let’s not be seduced by that fleeting emotional high of momentary change. Once that rocket gets into outer space, there will come a point where it will cruise on its own momentum. Like in our relationships, that first sense of heady in love intoxication will fade. Our job is to recognize and get comfortable with the fact that change – at some point – loses its lustre.

Boring is the moment we’ve been waiting for. Boring signifies that we are becoming.  “Boring” means that it’s working.

So get on your rocket. And enjoy that mother-loving boring ride.

I slept an unprecedented 10 hours last night. That’s right. Ten.

For a gal who usually weighs in under 7, 10 felt like a luxury only reserved for vacation or illness.  Oh, and then I had a nap. For an hour.

What the what?

Perhaps it’s because I’ve been chronically underslept since my early twenties, or perhaps it’s simply that this weekend is the first time I’ve been able to unwind a bit. Who can say for sure? But science does keep beating us over the head: Sleep is good for you.

The Paleo movement (which I’ve been dabbling in for the last few months) is not just about food. They’re also big on sleep. In fact, sleep ranks #1 on Paleo Gugu Mark Sisson’s Daily Apple this week   – for tips on building lean muscle mass! Go figure!

Check out these recent articles from reputable sources:

• Sleep is good for your long term memory.
• Nine reasons to sleep more. 
• Sleep on your side to facilitate brain detox.
• Good sleep helps your relationship.
• Why you should own a sleep mask.*
• Generally, why you should sleep.
• More on why you should sleep. Usually 8 hours.

And now go on. Nap.

• How to nap.
• Why napping is awesome.

*My mom says, “I really noticed an improvement in my sleep when I started wearing a sleep mask!” She petitioned me to put this link in. Enjoy!

I like to plan.

I’m a great planner, a presidential planner. I have an app called Omnifocus that agendifies every area of my life. Until recently, reminders in this apps included things like, “Call Mom,” or “Phone out of town friend,” lest I forgot to feel my beating heart while navigating my labyrinthine to-do list.

Planning makes me feel safe. Bestows the illusion of control. And gives birth to little babies called Expectations.

Like little Cabbage Patch Kids, these expectations pop into existence just after the planning starts. And they’re so darn cute. They run here and there, giggling, shaking their nicely braided yarn hair. But then all of a sudden, these little happy toddlers turn into pint-sized tyrants. They pout when the plan doesn’t go their way, throw tantrums when they’re disappointed. When thwarted, they stamp their feet, blubber uncontrollably, and glare in frustration.

My expectations, once sweet and full of possibility, have turned into the Garbage Pail Kids.

These Garbage Pail Kids recently threw a wrench in my romance. A golden beginning to the relationship had fostered warm feelings. Hopeful dreams ensued. Almost without realizing it, I grew a Plan like a scaffold beneath the shimmering surface of my ideas, and strapped my dream down onto its iron framework.  My plan was surely the right way. Diversions from the plan felt like betrayal, rejection. When my my partner finally threw up his hands in protestation, I was hurt, bewildered, and angry.

I confused my “Plan” with my “Vision.”

Life is a co-creation with the Universe.  While we control our own piece of it, the world out there is full of mystery and moving parts. We see this dance most clearly when we are co-creating with other people, like a partner.  When I am excited about to getting to my “goal,” I can put on blinders that prevent me from seeing anything except the road I’ve designed. I only see what I want, forgetting that other people are creating this wild big dream with me.

But by being so attached to my expectations, I miss the unexpected opportunities that are lying in my peripheral vision. Relationships can remind us that we are part of something bigger, help us to discern what is ours to own and what isn’t. They can help us look beyond our limited expectations, and take in some of the other points of view that make up the world. If we’re staring at the closed door, we may miss the fact that five windows have opened behind us.

The invitation: dream without being stuck to the plan. Raise our eyes from our expectations and see the great possibilities that are really there. Be surprised.

Because what if, just what if…this mysterious co-creation is could manifest a future that’s even better than the one that we’ve got in our heads?

Photo credit.