Yoga Pictures

The New Business Card :-)

North Vancouver woman finds her peace

North Vancouver woman finds her peace

What a journey..... Just finished reading the Northshore News article that was beautifully written by Jeremy Shepherd and photo captured by Cindy Goodman.... check out Sunday's front cover and A13... Thank you to all those who have supported me on this path....

Inspire Yoga

I'm excited to launch Inspire Yoga..... check out Inspire YOGA Vancouver on Facebook for updates on my teaching schedule and upcoming workshops! Hope to see you soon.

My Roots

I had often wondered if The Self Help or How To book was out there, or better yet, a map that plotted my life journey so I could find comfort in the fact I knew where I was headed. I asked myself this question during the numerous times I browsed the shelves of bookstores and eagerly flipped through those that looked promising. I dreamed of the day I would uncover the ultimate guide. The encyclopedia of knowledge that would tell me the secrets of living with chronic pain. And of course the elusive magic wand would be included; nicely tucked inside the bookcover flap.

I recently had to meet with one of my longterm disability case managers. As I began to look through my binders and countless file folders containing my medical history I realized my scribbled notes are a souvenir of my journey. My travel log. For instance, I can tell anyone what drugs, the dosage and what specialist I saw on April 2^nd, 2003. As an injured worker, I frequently undergo tremendous scrutiny. As I prepare for battle, my notes are my armor. Time and again, I tell my story- the Reader’s Digest version. How do I explain all that I have gone through? In the world of workplace politics, there is no room for emotion. I am just another case number with a thick file folder. When I don’t fit into their desired cubby hole, where do I turn? It is a struggle to remain upright and moving forward when you are walking on quick sand.

In the Yoga Sutra’s, sutra II.46 sthira sukham asanam can be translated to mean that with every pose (asana) one looks to find stability (sthira) and ease (sukham). Half Moon Pose (Ardha Chandrasana) is where my steadfastness and surrender meet. It is here where I search for my balance. Due to the loss of feeling in the majority of my right side, finding balance can prove to be a little challenging. But when I connect to the sweet spot, sthira sukham, my floating leg and arms feel weightless. I fully embrace the energy that travels up my standing leg to my pelvis and then zings up my spine like a sunburst. My chest open and fingertips bright. This is it.. my moment to shine. No one can take this away. Today I can stand strong… even on one leg. The memories of these sensations help fuel my desire to keep going.

In Sanskrit the word svadhyaya means self-study. Yoga has given me the opportunity to go inward. The moments of silence between the inhales and exhales is what my body and mind crave. To simply just be present in the stillness and to let go. Inhale… Let… Exhale… Go. Letting go is my path to freedom.

It is time to close my binders and shed my armor. With each bead of sweat that drips onto my yoga mat I release my past. I no longer grieve for what my life could have been had I not gotten injured. As I move into my deep hip openers I connect to my despair and sadness. So this is where it has been lodged all these years. With every backbend I become raw. My heart exposed and my true emotions revealed. And by the end, as I lay in savasana, I am naked; the layers stripped away… the union of body, mind and soul. I now know that everything and anything is possible. I have ended my quest for my special edition book and wand. Yoga has shown me my path. I am my own book. I am my own healer.  I honor my roots… from my roots I rise.

The Walk

While walking the dog in the pouring rain this morning, I managed to briefly catch my reflection in a puddle just before I stepped off the curb. What appeared to be a shallow collection of rain turned out to be a little deeper than expected. For the remainder of my walk, each step I took was accompanied by an audible squishing sound.

When I got home and dried out, I began to think about the countless times I had stepped off the very same curb. Not only was it the way that I went to elementary school every day, but it was also my escape route out of isolation during the time in my life when I was so heavily medicated my planned outing for the day was a walk to Starbucks. Sounds so simple, but it was an event. For approximately thirty minutes I felt independent and normal. Most of the time, within moments of entering the store, the barista would be filling in the boxes with my detailed request before I had a chance to say hello. Great customer service, yes, but to me it meant that I still existed. Everyone knew me as Jen. No medical history was required in order to purchase a tall, nonfat, extra hot, no foam latte.

Each day my ritual was the same... As I took the first sips of my latte, I savoured the feeling of warmth flowing down my throat. My body waited in anticipation of relief from the vice-like grip that the pain had on me. Muscle spasms would normally only allow me to take short, shallow breaths but gradually as I continued to drink, the heat slowly permeating my muscles, I could breathe a little deeper. But since it wasn’t possible to continuously indulge in lattes, I wondered how I could replicate this amazing sensation. I would find my answer in a yoga studio years later.

I initially thought yoga was just going to make me more flexible, but the yoga studio has now become another sanctuary for my mind and body. The same emotions that flowed through me each time I opened the door to Starbucks, I now feel the moment I walk into practice. Yogis use the word ‘sangha,’ which means community. Being a part of a community can be a powerful healing tool. For me, in trying to cope with my pain, I had put myself into exile. Old friendships had fallen to the wayside. It was easier to stop making social plans than to have to cancel at the last minute because I wasn’t feeling well.

The first time I heard a room full of yogis chanting ‘Om’..... I had a visceral reaction. It was the welcome home that my soul yearned for—the sound, the vibration, the feeling of truly being part of a community. Everyone with their own story, but at that moment ‘om’ connected us all.

With each deep inhale my chest expanded and with each exhale my body softened. As the muscles of my chest and ribcage let go my heart and mind melted and the slow cascade of relaxation flowed out to my fingertips and toes. Ahhhh…. Nothing else mattered. It was just my breath and me.  

I began writing tonight as I sat in Starbucks—latte in my left hand and a pen in my right. Past, present and future all represented. The past—the latte… each time I drank in the warmth, albeit brief, I was reminded that relaxation was possible. The present—my breath…with each inhale and exhale accepting what is. The future—my pen…the vehicle to touch people with my story. As I sit in my mini oasis and watch the rain fall, I am grateful. Gratitude for puddles because I love the reflection I saw in one this morning. I’m glad I know her.