There’s something about being witnessed. It’s a key component in Dance Therapy, and I think this happens in a yoga class, too: we SEE each other. We show up, ready to be awkward and vulnerable and sometimes sweaty. (For many of us, just being barefoot in public or wearing Lycra requires a fair amount of bravery). . For me, Practicing these days is happening at home- time in the studio is usually teaching. Lately I’ve been having fun rebelling against what is considered a “yoga pose”, playing with scaring myself a little bit. . And, if you’ve read this far, thank you. It may be out of narcissism, but you are my witness. Thanks for seeing. . This is (loosely, with your requests added) the Vinyasa I’ll share on Tuesday @7:15 pm @frontyogaloft. I’d love to witness your practice.
“Compassion for others begins with kindness to ourselves.” -Pema Chodrön . We see you. How often do you give your time and attention to others? How often do you leave some for yourself? .
Collaborating with two bad ass women dedicated to healing- @sarahmkiel is a registered dietitian and @lalalivewell is a wizard of bodywork (Rolfing Structural Integration)-we are holding a space for self compassion, and would love to see you there! .
Here’s what mama is cooking up for you: . expressive art meditation starts with a guided meditation, then moves into any art form that inspires you-drawing, writing, and even dancing/moving. When we quiet our mind, we hear our intuition. When we become friends with our intuition through artistic expression, we gain insight. . Link to tickets is in the bio- bring a friend (or seven) for discounted rate. . @theargohouse@thefrontogden@frontyogaloft@ogdenyogafest
”Focusing in Art Therapy”-combines meditation and art (drawing, banging on drums, dancing, and sitting still). It has been interesting to compare this to my experiences in 10 day silent meditation retreats. We observe “felt senses” from sitting. When we get to move with them, scribble them out, or put them on paper, we see the shifting. We learn to listen, and trust, that felt sense. It’s our inner self. This can be a group practice too. I can neither confirm nor deny that my group formed a band named “mountain flower space”. Live yo’ best life. I can’t wait to bring this home to Utah. In the mean time, I’ll be here, serving up my hippie stuff.
Today I drew myself as a goat stick figure wearing sunglasses (for a completely serious assignment/discussion). This is grad school...? “Notice: All pastels are subject to breakage despite great care in packing and handling. Breakage in no way affects the usability of our superb quality imported pastels. Most professional artists do not object to working with various size pieces.”
I have a story for you: I said goodbye to the mountains (and this guy) for a few weeks by biking the Park City trails yesterday. Because of a big storm the previous night, we kept encountering trees that had fallen across the trail. When Brian offered to carry my bike over a particularly large trunk, I declined. We rode on (he a bit faster). Around the next bend, there he was, hoisting a tree out of the path so I could bike through. Then again, with the next tree. That’s the kind of partner he is. I feel strong and capable. He knows I can throw a bike over a trunk, and am game to pedal miles of steep terrain. He was also happy to step off his bike to toss trees out of the way, for me, and for the rest of the cyclists on the trail that day. He’s not really into selfies or social media, and most of the time we don’t take photos of rides. But, these are a few of my favorites.
Accumulating a different kind of money in the bank these days. A new sofa is less important than the ability to sit down. My worth is not dependent on a title or position.
Trying to remind myself this... Getting by with side hustles (teaching online, subbing yoga classes, fluffing pillows of my basement turned Airbnb). Those $1 thrift store tank tops work just as well. More biking, less driving. Hanging with friends on the back porch. The mountains in the backyard are just as beautiful as the ones 10 hours away.
We’re pretty smitten with Clementine the giant tent and Theodore the Subaru Forester. We’ll be chasing the sunshine for the next few weeks as we squeak out every last bit of freedom before finding grown up jobs again. We have a guest room, message me for our coordinates and come climbing! #tentlife
Happy 🌎 Day.. “Men come and go, cities rise and fall, whole civilizations appear and disappear-the earth remains, slightly modified. The earth remains, and the heartbreaking beauty where there are no hearts to break....I sometimes choose to think, no doubt perversely, that man is a dream- thought and illusion- and only rock is real. Rock and sun.” -Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness
My time out here has made me feel like a speck of dust. (A free, glorious, little speck) 🦇🌵☀️
Celebrating international women’s day by hanging with these Ogden homies on their boys’ trip 😂🤘 We were joking about what age a “boy is a man” (Dan’s Bar mitzvah). I think it’s when you have the capacity to recognize yourself in everyone else. It was kinda awesome to be the one leading these trails yesterday, and that it didn’t matter I was wearing a bike skirt.
I love these birthday shout outs: @cassidyeames happy birthday saucy sauce! Capturing the world through your lens, you teach me to see it. Trekking through a strange country (other planet), I saw the beauty in the landscape and hilarity of sharing a tiny space (and living off of the “free” bins at campsites). We still need to get Viking tattoos.
When she was four and I was twelve, Niki was a tree in our dance recital. This was probably the moment she decided that she was going to do her own thing- ditching the leotard for soccer cleats. As her older sister, I’ve spent most of my life looking up to Niki. Happy birthday little seester
Happy birthday Brian! Insta-friends, let me tell you why I’m psyched about this human. 1. His fashion sense 2. Every time he talks to his momma Lynn on the phone, his southern accent comes back 3. He’s very in touch with his feelings. 4. he can fix anything, if he can find the tool 5. This photo doesn’t need words 6. I fell in love with him in a yoga class 7. He’s a morning person 8. He’s a problem solver 9. As we were walking out of the gym a few days ago, I looked back to catch Brian having a conversation with Sam while doing synchronized Arnold Schwarzenegger-ing. He makes time for his people. And is very strong.
Every morning, I walk into a cafe of fifteen teenagers having a morning jam session with guitars and ukuleles. I gather them up so we can have other types of sessions- therapy and class look like drawing and scribbling and shaking and grooving. It’s not terrible all the time. Sometimes they feel like it is. Feelings are hard.
There’s a Hurricane down in Hurricun... 🌧 I’m back down south for awhile, ready for second semester. Van neighbors and bike friends, are you hibernating? The trails are melting, so I’ve turned to running. Some days it feels like I’ve landed on Mars in a miniature space ship.
My favorite dance movement therapy session so far: a student wanted to stop avoiding her own anger. We blasted Tool. We took every red marker/ crayon/ pastel and slashed deep red across the pages of white paper. We ran around the room until we were exhausted. We Matrix-dodged each other’s karate chops, jabs, and round house kicks. Sometimes words aren’t enough- this work is the real thing ❤️
I miss this guy. I’m also incredibly psyched to be with someone who gets it. On separate continents, playing in different mountains, I feel space to be my own person. This feels rebellious, as a girl. Thank you for seeing this, @climbski . (I also have a better vantage point to see you in your old-timey glory.) “I’m not worried about intimidating men. The type of man who will be intimidated by me is exactly the type of man I have no interest in.”-Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Because it’s world mental health day, and I am sitting in my dietitian’s waiting room, I am going to share something incredibly vulnerable. Stop reading if you don’t like feelings. This photo has tormented me for a few weeks now. Self criticism runs deep. I could look at it as “woah, that girl’s got a booty”, or “ this was a day I hung out with my people- we did silly handstands all morning”. I’m choosing the second. Numbers: I was put on a diet as a scrappy 11 year old- I stopped playing in the dirt to go to weekly weigh ins, because I wanted so badly to get a good part in a ballet. That was 20 yrs ago. Now, every two weeks, I drive 5 1/2 hours to meet with both a dietitian and a therapist. Combined, they are half of my monthly income. After two years of this, I have finally stopped counting almonds. (I know. It doesn’t look like I count almonds. Eating disorders are funny like that). For the first time in 20 years, I am able to buy Oreos at the grocery store and leave them in my pantry without anxiety. In 2015, I was "average" in weight for my height. I was starving under the guise of Veganism. I couldn't bike, or hike, or walk without getting out of breath. When I had recurring dreams about chicken, I decided to eat meat. My body automatically gained 15lbs. Recently, I have stopped weighing myself. I would like to leave this world not caring whether or not I fit into a certain size, or weigh a certain number. I would like to stop giving and recieving critiques (positive or negative) on physical appearances. I want to celebrate our lives; the babies our bodies bear, the incredible physical feats we accomplish, the time we spend with people we love... Guess what? If we were stranded on a desert island and had the choice between raspberry cheesecake or vegetables, we would live longer (and probably thrive) on the cheesecake. If we were to eat only vegetables, we'd die. That is my public service announcement for today. Eat cheesecake. Stop counting.