Who even cares about food?
I thought this. Me. Jazmine—lover of pasta and cheese and peanut butter. She, who can eat more popcorn in one sitting than a small movie theater. She, who eats hummus with a spoon, because… yum. The very same who loves breakfast more than any meal of the day, could suddenly get all the way to 1pm on coffee alone.
I would put my kiddo down for a nap and think, I better eat something. By then I was despondent and faint. I recognized that I was starving, but somehow I was okay with it, because the feeling seemed to match my mood. I mean, who even cares about food? (more…)
When you’re a yoga instructor, you’re a guide. You take students along on a journey. Yes, you’re a ‘teacher’ when you need to be. But you are mostly guiding them. And as a guide, it’s your job to also try to make the ride inspiring – sometimes challenging, maybe enlightening – but mostly you want your students to walk away saying, “That was great. I so needed that.”
My students were recovering addicts. They were going through divorces, career changes, and life crises. They were broken-hearted and they were healing. They were in the middle of finals and dissertations and other hard freaking shit and yoga was helping them get back to themselves.
Then one day, I was in the middle of some hard freaking shit. (more…)
If you are a creative person, no matter the genre, it’s very likely that you’ve experienced creative paralysis at some point in your adult life. I’m not talking about a creative block. I’m talking about soul screaming, fist clenching, God-save-me paralysis.
Hitting a creative block is like stumbling upon a detour. Usually, it’s unexpected. But if you read the signs, you can likely get around it with just a few turns and not a whole lot of backtracking.
But creative paralysis is like (more…)
When I taught yoga, it wasn’t unusual for a student to weep on the mat during class. Some people feel uncomfortable with tears. In fact, I often do. But as a yoga teacher I didn’t have the freedom to panic. My job wasn’t to stop teaching, ask them what was wrong, fret about it, or otherwise draw attention to their experience. And it certainly wasn’t my place to take it personally if they were having a strong response to the practice. My job was simply to hold space.
All the tissues I passed, adjustments I made, and hands I held helped prepare me for the colossal job of holding space for my son. However, it took me a while to figure this out. (more…)