Happiness always follows

It has been a bit of a rough period in my otherwise quiet life. The studio I opened in July closed its doors January 30th. Though I have been sad I am bouyed by what is happening in this moment. The Universe doesn't seem to stop and dwell on the past but marches forward towards the future. And who am I to argue - while I miss leading practice every week, I am enjoying discovering my own practice, meditating and contemplating what next.

Several times in my life I have found that happiness and joy always follow pain and loss. I am excited about this new chapter. To renew the spirit of my blog I wanted to share with you The Happiness Chant. It helped me through this transition and I think it is helpful to to share why I believe chanting is a good thing.

To begin, I start with the brain, or mind: We have two sides - the side that is our rational and logical mind - the left, and the side that controls our intuitive mind - the right. The right allows us to appreciate creative endeavors. That intuitive mind that becomes inspired by the simple beauty in all things from the sun setting to the perfection of a child's smile. Though we use both sides of our brain, our intuitive mind sometimes takes a backseat to our rational mind. Chanting helps bring the mind back into balance:
(1) Physically, when we chant we breathe. Our breathing rate actually decreases and in turn affects our heart rate. We feel relaxed and calm.
(2) Chanting heals our mind. Remember as a child being lulled to sleep by your mom singing a lullaby. Soothing music, rythmic and repetitive in nature. Chanting has the same affect.
(3) Chanting actually relaxes the entire body. One thing I teach in my classes is to use the belly to breath. Chanting promotes deep abdominal breathing as well.
(4) Chanting releases negativity such as anger, jealousy or frustration. Proof: Ever felt pissed while belting out one of your favorite songs. Think of chanting in the same sense.
(5) Chanting focuses our thoughts. Each single word of a chant teaches us to focus our mind.

Convinced? Okay, this is the Happiness Chant and it has helped me keep my sanity and get me through the chaos of last couple of weeks.

Lokah Samastha Sukhino Bhavanthu (repeat three times, followed by)
Om, shanti, shanti, shanti

It means: May all the beings in the world become happy; Om, peace, peace, peace.
You can also download a beautiful version of this chant by artist Sean Johnson from his 'Calling the Spirits' CD. It is available at itunes.

Peace and happiness,
Cathleen

A question of convenience

In July I joined the food co-op Suzie Lerma with Sol Food Market set up. When I first heard there was a co-op, I wasn't sold on the idea but wanted to support Suzie and her efforts to provide our small town with wholesome, organic and healthy foods.

I had never been a member of a co-operative and really wasn't too sure what it meant. Nor had I ever made a conscious effort to consume seasonal produce. I was fairly aware that some of our supermarket foods travel tremendous distances - like grapes from Chile and spinach from Mexico - and I had started limiting my purchases to items grown only in the western states. But I was fascinated with the idea of consuming produce based on season and locale.

A co-op, I read, is when consumers pool their resources together and share in the benefits. With our co-op we pay a monthly fee which funds the time, effort and costs in ordering and obtaining produce each week. In return, we receive wholesale pricing on locally grown, seasonal and (mostly) organic produce. We are also expected to share in the work load. Only one hour per month. So, on a Tuesday, I joined three other members to sort through fresh produce and put together orders. Working side-by-side in the cool space of Sol Food's walk-in refrigerator I began to connect with these other members in my community and the food I was taking home. A connection with food I hadn't experienced since high school when I went to our garden to pick tomatoes, lettuce and cucumbers for our evening meal.

This got me interested. A little research revealed the importance of having local food available. I found out that yields from organic farms are equal to the yields of conventional farming - e.g., farms using pesticides. That farmer's markets and co-op's support what are considered small farm operators - those with under $250,000 in sales per year. And that small farm operators make up 94% of farms in the United States. Also, through farmer's markets and co-op's - low income families have access to fresh, organic and healthy foods.

Perhaps most interesting is the trend and growing desire to obtain fresh products. The number of farmer's markets has increased each year since 1995. This urban/farm linkage provides people with a connection to their food source and personal interaction. Not to mention it's a source of income and allows farmers to stay in the business of farming. I was curious so I asked Suzie if I could join her on one of her weekly trips to purchase produce for the co-op.

She invited me to tag along on her Tuesday route: Five hours from start to finish. We left Big Bear at noon with the goal of arriving in Upland no earlier than 1:30 p.m. to meet Doug and purchase 48 bottles of raw milk. Because raw milk is strictly regulated, there are only two dairies in California allowed to sell it and both are located in Northern California. Doug drives north on Monday afternoons, picks up the raw milk from the dairy and returns to Southern California. He drives all night so he can deliver the product fresh to his customers the following day. Because his route doesn't take him anywhere near Big Bear, the all cash deal takes place in Doug's driveway - a ubiquitous neighborhood of three-car garage homes with views of the San Gabriel Mountains.

With the milk on ice we drive east towards Redlands, making a quick stop at Clarks - a whole food store in Loma Linda. After purchasing a few hard-to-find items for the co-op we cut through the rolling hills that run parallel to the 10 freeway. A canyon framed by sun scorched hills leads us past a series of farms. The temperature is in the nineties and you can see the heat rising from the pavement. Crossing railroad tracks we follow a single dirt lane past a mobile home and a trio of barking dogs. The road ends at a concrete hacienda with a broad porch shaded by two oak trees. Behind the home, several acres of farm head off toward the hills.

The farmer, also named Doug, ducks under a clothes line of white cotton tee-shirts and greets us. He tells me he has another 20 acres down the road. Though he farms most of it he leases a few acres to other growers. In a cool room Suzie and Doug get down to business - sorting through sweet, red and russet potatoes, green, red and yellow bell peppers, melons and cantaloupes and a box of cucumbers. Suzie picks the vegetables she wants handing back those that are over ripe. Doug hands us two Israeli Melons to take home and sample. I wander outside with Benji - Suzie's seven-month-old son - to view the crops. The smell of dirt is heavy in the air and a tractor sits ready in the middle of a field. I learn that Doug also supplies produce to Wolfgang Puck's chain of restaurants in West Los Angeles, participates in the Farm to School Program and sells his fruits and vegetables at a number of large markets in Los Angeles and Ventura counties.

The earthen aroma is intense in the car as we drive highway 38 back to Big Bear. During the ride our conversation is easy: We discuss the importance of obtaining our foods locally and the environmental sustainability of organic farming. We talk about the deep connection we feel when you know the farmer who tilled the land, planted the crops and picked the food. That relationship we miss when we settle for the convenience of a large grocery store. While I still shop at Vons, I purchase my produce from Sol Food. I'm sold on the concept Suzie introduced - not because it is cheaper than the alternative but because it is the better alternative. Plus I have a deep connection with the food I eat - I've met Doug and I want him to continue to farm his land and provide for his family.

Over the Handle Bars

I LOVE mountain biking. It is a sport I never thought I would pursue. When I lived in Los Angeles I was a triathlete and preferred my road bike. I couldn't understand why anyone would ride dirt. It's much harder than riding smooth pavement. The bikes are heavier and the downhill a bit scary. Then I moved to the mountains.

Looking for a spin class one May morning, a local instructor said, "It's nice out - we don't ride indoors anymore." I was intriqued. "Do you have a bike?" she asked. "Yes, I do," was my response. I met her and four other girls at 5:30 a.m. at the Triangle in Fawnskin. We rode Grout Bay. It was almost magical, the light illuminated the wild flowers that lined either side of the trail. The ride was equal parts laughter and hard work. And even though the mountain bike I owned was a rusty, 36 pound, nine-year old Haro with an inch of travel, I still had a good time. Six weeks later, on my 40th birthday I bought a hardtail Specialized Stump Jumper. Then I dragged my boyfriend out on a rental bike and showed him how much fun it was. He was hooked and bought a Cannondale hardtail with a Lefty fork.

These last three summers have been about exploring the trails in my community. Meeting for early morning rides and developing friendships that will last a lifetime. My riding abilities have also improved. I rarely ever fall. Except for these last two weeks: My first was impressive. I sailed over my handle bars hitting a log drop. The log caught my chain ring and stopped my bike. I continued on, however, and scorpioned onto the trail with dirt the consistency of powdered sugar. I lay motionless, starfished in the center of the trail mentally scanning my body for injury. I felt only one rock jabbing at my right hip. Hearing another rider come down behind me, I reluctantly moved to the side. Covered in dirt I tried to brush it off - I couldn't. I wore it like a badge of honor as I climbed up yet another fire road for one more descent. Get back in the saddle, right? It took two showers to remove every particle but otherwise I was fine.

My second fall was stupid. I was crusing a relatively easy trail thinking how lucky I was to live in such close proxmity to great mountain biking when my front tire was swallowed by soft sand. As my bike went right, my body flew left. I let out a yelp before I hit - vocalizing the reality of my landing: Two very sharp rocks. My knee cap took one while my shin took the other. Though I couldn't walk for a couple of minutes, I did recover and rode back to my car. It has made teaching yoga a bit challenging this week and added to the army of scars I have accumulated since taking up the sport. But, again, I was fine.

Overall I am glad I fall. While I am not happy about the bruises or the pain - neither are permanent. Much like when we have challenging issues arise in our daily lives. It's hard to remember that even though the 'bruises' and 'pain' are still visible and palpable they aren't permanent. And this, I believe, is a really good thing. It allows us to learn and come that much closer to the essence of our true selves.

Why Yoga Rocks!

I don't do this often, but let me get on my soapbox for a moment. First, I need to take my shoes off - I want to connect with the wood, feel the grain beneath my soles, and I'm a clutz.

Ahem. Why Yoga Rocks! by Cathleen Calkins

First, let's get the obvious out of the way: It's good for the body. Yoga strengthens not only the prominent and more popular muscles of the body such as the gluts, quads and hamstrings, it works the muscles we don't often think about. The muscles that assist breathing and the muscles that make up the spine.

Yoga opens tight areas like the hips, shoulders and neck. It works on the connective tissue - the ligaments and fascia. This helps us maintain a youthful flow in our movements even as we age.
Yoga is also great for the internal organs. It moves them around, nourishes them with blood, fresh oxygen and energy. Invigorating each organ, maintaining health.

But here is where it gets interesting - more complicated but simpler at the same time. Yoga rocks because we breathe. Yep, it's the breath. Through the breath we foster community - within ourselves at first. When we breathe we calm down, we are peaceful, aware and conscientious. We forgive ourselves and acknowledge our short comings. We are driven to become happier and better humans. We accept our bodies - no longer sitting in judgment but accepting who we are for just that - who we are. The good and the bad. And as we begin to care a little bit more about ourselves a strange thing happens: We begin to care a little bit more about those around us. The people closest to us, in our lives and we even begin to let new people in. There is impact when we relax. Gripping the steering wheel less, we driving slower and let others into our lane.

Then it moves beyond us. To others. From the family at home and our co-workers, to the people we pass in the grocery aisle or strangers on a hiking trail. To keep it simple, I like to define all of these encounters as our communities. The communities we move in and through. If we move in and through these communities calmer, more at peace and accepting of ourselves we begin to transfer these feeling. Becoming calmer and more accepting of others. This is peace. No longer antagonistic, jealous or angry - just peaceful.

Okay - so you're screaming at the computer - But what about the other guy? He just cut me off on the freeway and scared the heck out of the old lady ahead of me. Well, my answer is this: It's a choice. What if we all choose to be like the other guy? Sit with this for a moment. Can you imagine? No one would ever get to where they were going, we would all be cutting each other off, clogging up traffic with accidents which would lead to sig alerts and affect everyone - not just the other guy.

Now think of the other extreme. Everyone walking around in a state of bliss. A dopey grin on your face that is contagious. On the road, traffice would flow. We would all move forward and this would affect everyone, including those behind us and those in front of us.

In reality, some of us understand this connection and impact we have on others and some of us don't. Still we are all one and our choices leave a mark on our communities - good and bad. Think of how one angry person infects those closeby. Now think of how peace plays out in the same situation.

In short, yoga rocks because through our practice we become more aware of just how much power we have to impact the communities we move in and through - good and bad.

The end. Stepping down now. Putting on my shoes and walking away. Namaste'

Finding Still - ness

The last two weeks have been a blur - opening a yoga studio while attempting to be somewhat productive and work has been a challenge. Wonderful, but a challenge none-the-less. What started as a notion to have a space dedicated to yoga - where I could hold a class without limitations such as having to move furniture or exercise equipment - has turned into something so much more. A studio with choices, other instructors, a variety of styles, and new ideas. Somewhere even I could go and practice. In fact, the best part of last week was attending an Ananda Yoga class with Jen. I settled into my mat, followed along, meditated and relaxed into savasana.

I came to the name of Still because of my own issues with finding calm. It is hard for me to find stillness - physically and pschologically. Though moving from the frenetic pace of the big city to a small town in the mountains has helped me find quiet, it is really through yoga that I am truly able to find stillness in my thoughts, my breath and my movement. Yoga, to me, is a moving meditation. I was initially drawn to yoga because of the physical asanas - the energetic vinyasas and strength required in balancing poses. But as I progressed, I found that with intense physical focus comes the ability to be mentally calm and land in an almost breathless state.

So with this, I am back to work - struggling to get everything done so I can make it to the 5:00 pm Ananda yoga class with Jen.

Why do we judge?

We all do it. I do it. It doesn’t make it right, but it does offer us an opportunity to really know ourselves.

I pre-judge, come to a quick summary based on an action, a look, an event, a sound and quickly come up with a label. I don’t do this as often as I did 25 years ago, but it still occurs, and when it does it is so disarming. Now, my strategy is to stop, acknowledge judgement and sit for a moment with the feeling I created. Where did this notion come from? Is there something going on right now with me? Am I resistent to the idea being proposed? Is this something I see in myself and am now rejecting? And most importantly: What am I missing out on by snapping to this conclusion? This is when I soften. I don’t berate myself for judging. I do not judge myself but rather acknowledge my action, locate its source and move on to the next moment. I let go with more awareness and am a better person for it. Although not perfect, I am better armed for the next time I draw a quick conclusion about someone or some thing.

I bring this up because I worked through this yesterday in my yoga practice of all places. I set the alarm for 5:45 am to attend a 6:15 am Hatha Blend class. When the alarm sounded I just wanted to turn it off, roll over and finish my eight hours. But I knew I would just lay there – mostly awake – until it was time to jump in the shower and go to work. Not to mention - I hate regrets. So, tired and cranky I arrived for class about five minutes early, set my self up in a supported Supta Badha Konasana coupled with ujiya pranayama. I thought it gave me the separation I needed between my alarm and the practice. The instructor started us in Tadasana, but as I folded into Uttanasana, I couldn’t stop thinking “This isn’t going to work; I don’t think I like her voice or direction. Can I leave? What time is it?” As I struggled to still my mind and move into the next pose, I decided to figure out why I was feeling this way. With a few breaths I found the source of my discomfort and basis of my judgment - I was tired and cranky and I really didn't want to be there. It had nothing to do with the instructor, her manner or her voice. I opened and sank into one of the best practices I have had in a long time. Completely aware and humbled.

I hate when I judge – it’s impulsive and unnecessary. But I love that I can acknowledge. And without beating myself up too much move on, have a great experience, meet a new and interesting person or have a memorable yoga practice.

The words we use ...

Leading a yoga practice can be challenging: Providing students with correct cues at the appropriate time, setting the pace of practice and breath, coupled with identifying the proper orientation of the body without mixing right with left and left with right. But finding words to communicate the practice of yoga can make the task of teaching even more daunting. How often can I use ‘melt’ to describe Savasana? Can the word ‘soften’ be used repeatedly when explaining what the eyes, throat, shoulders and lower belly should be doing in Tadasana? As a writer, redundancy just doesn’t sound good – whether in print or in yoga practice. I am constantly on the lookout for new words to add to my yoga vocabulary. Last week I heard the word ‘trace.’ Instantly I fell in love with its sound, its grace and its effectiveness. Trace your breath - in through your nose and along the base of the throat as it fills your lungs. I can’t use it enough. As you soften your shoulders into the front of your chest and down your back, trace the length of the spine and draw your tailbone towards the floor. It’s so lovely. In Reverse Warrior reach your right hand towards the sky and feel the flow of energy from your right big toe to your pinky, tracing its course in three long, smooth cycles of breath.

Are there other words so versatile and effective? I hope so. Stumbling upon the word trace gave me inspiration in my own practice and a sense of freshness in my classes.