There are some awesome heart centered Yoga teachers out there that are tired of the high focus on the physical form that our western culture emphasizes. They also have the heart to touch the lives of unique individuals.
I am seeking those Yoga teachers.
When I began my own personal practice of yoga I was doing it for all the reasons many of us do–increase flexibility, get leaner and stronger, and stretch the tight muscles. What I discovered in the process of learning and doing all of that is the true essence of Yoga–which is union; with myself and with others.
It was also at this time that I was embarking on a self-discovery quest that lead me down many paths, and ultimately opened some amazing doors for my own personal growth.
I had dove deep into my soul and realized that I am here to do great things and in order to do that, I had A LOT of healing in my heart to do. (A recent podcast explains it all). When I found the space in my heart that anger no longer was consuming, I filled it with life changing love.
Hustling
I have been hustling in and out of assisted living, rehab centers and group homes for over thirteen years, specializing in people with brain injuries. It is the most rewarding work I can ever imagine. It is SO needed in every community.
Let’s team up
I want to share this very special population with YOU so that you can go into your communities and feel confident teaching Yoga to individuals with disabilities.
I am currently taking applications for adaptive yoga teacher mentorship. Learn more!
One of my biggest gripes as a Yoga teacher is the assumption that Yoga is about the ability to touch your toes, or gain flexibility, or needing to being “good” at it in order to practice. Truth is it has really nothing to do with that at all..
One of my most treasured aspects of Yoga is how we go about with showing up for ourselves and others.
This is the essence of Pantajali’s non-harming Sutra known as Ahimsa. Pausing to consider kindness (ahimsa) influences the choices you make and how you truly show up for yourself and for others. Ahimsa (pronounced “ah-heem-sah”) literally means “non-harming” or “non-violence” in Sanskrit. In it most basic level, it’s refraining from causing harm. In the ancient time in which the yamas were first written down, this idea was a pretty big deal. The ancient world was rather violent, so what seems like a relatively simple instruction in the developed modern world (not to hurt anybody) was a revolutionary idea 3000 years ago. Crazy, right?
As we practice ahimsa in today’s modern life, there is more to this idea of non-harming than simply refraining from acts of physical violence.
We understand now that pain can be more than just physical – it can also be emotional and mental. The deepest pain we feel is often very emotional and it most often sprouts from our relationships with other human beings. The grief that we experience when we lose someone or a part of our life that meant so much to our identity. The loss of a relationship or a painful life change can bring about deep and soul-shattering pain.
When we practice ahimsa, we are thinking about how our actions could hurt others and doing so invites us to take into consideration the potential physical, emotional, and relational consequences of our actions. We pause to consider kindness.
This is Yoga.
This week my teaching and sharing Yoga varies from fit and active high school hockey players (with incredibly tight hamstrings), to the average middle aged woman seeking self-love, to the athletic man wanting to wind down, to the dear friend grieving the painful decision she made, to the many people in assisted living who have traumatic brain injuries.
Every single person that I was in front of learned about ahimsa. They also got to feel ahimsa in action.
Want to know how I know this? Because I witnessed the relief in their tired hearts from trying so hard to maintain their emotions, I watched the tears flow, I saw with my own eyes confidence rise simply with one word, I felt with my hands their muscles relax, I exchanged smiles, and I received the magic of knowing that my work matters. The foot rub for the man who receives no touch was ahimsa. And his ahimsa back to me was a twinkle in his eye as he thanked me.
I am frustrated with the non-kind world that exists where division and opinions flood our everyday lives. I am saddened at the lack of humanity and desperate need to be heard in what seems to be a constant “what about ME” mentality. I am exhausted with the lack of kindness for fellow human beings.
But, I chose kindness despite my own struggling emotions. I offered ahimsa for the exhausted world in which I get to share Yoga. I pause. To listen. To see. To feel. To give.
Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom – Marcel Proust
For years I have wanted to share a story about a man who has made a profound impact on my life during the month of March when it is the Brain Injury Awareness month, but have struggled to find the words that capture the essence of him and also be sensitive to never want to exploit his life, or his injury.
Every once in a while if you are lucky, you meet someone who touches your soul in a place that you may have not otherwise even known existed. I had been teaching yoga to people with brain injuries for many years when I met someone who reached something in me that is not easily described. Of course, each of my students who have arrived for yoga have brought something unique and often profound to my life, but one man in particular has really found a place in my heart.
It has been my method while I teach yoga to people with brain injuries to not ever ask how they sustained their injury. It is not that such a huge event in their life does not matter to me, but I do not need to know the details. I do not need to know even what their life was like before the injury. Instead, I prefer to just know them as they are now. I want to know what they like, what they dream of, what bothers them, what they long for, what brings them joy, what hurts and what they love. In time as we work together it is not uncommon for the details of the injury to be revealed, or the life they had prior to the event, but it is not something that I seek out. Just as I rarely seek to learn about someone’s past, because it is now that I want to know and be part of.
Each time I was leaving the long term care center that I frequented weekly to teach adaptive yoga I would often see a man with the most beautiful blue eyes sitting in his chair watching hockey reruns or slowly walking through the corridors, grasping the hand rail, sliding his left leg along the linoleum floor. I would greet him and I would usually get the same response, “hi….yep yep”. Always the same answer. One day I asked him if he wanted to come to yoga and this time, he gave me an adamant, “nope nope”. This exchanged continued for nearly a year. Always “nope, nope”.
Then one day, I got a “yep yep”.
That was the beginning of a friendship and a blending of two people bringing out the best in each other. In time through his amazing family and his own sharing, I learned about his life before his accident and it is my honor to share it here.
My friend Jim was just a young man with his whole life ahead of him. A recent college graduate, a great new career at a bank, and a nice home. This elite athlete who had his eyes on an Ironman, who was a former college hockey captain, and friend to anyone was welcoming in a life that many dream of. Surrounded by an incredible family, life long friends and a passion for being a competitive athlete, the younger Jim was a man full of dreams that he knew he could achieve.
But, in a split second, the life he created was shattered. A training ride on his beloved bicycle changed everything when he was struck by a car. After months and months in the hospital and in rehab, Jim was able to regain some of his skills and returned miraculously to his love of running. With the help of his family and friends, he was able to do some of the things he loved and had some amazing successes through his recovery.
His next hurdle would be the massive seizures that would prove to take away the progress that he had gained physically, and with his language and memory. More work, more struggles and more setbacks.
When I met Jim he had recently suffered a massive seizure that caused major damage to his brain. His language was stuck on a constant loop of repeating the same phrases over and over, or he would have outbursts that were either bouts of laughter that was uncontrollable, or fits of rage. Physically, he was struggling to walk and use his left arm. Cognitively it was hard to say what he was able to retain since his ability to communicate easily was greatly impacted.
When a portion of your brain is removed and the misfiring neurotransmitters from repetitive seizures, it is a miracle to witness all that he is able to do. He may not remember what he had for breakfast, or what year it is, but he can tell you the details of his favorite hockey team, the names of his beloved college buddies, or the exact model of hockey skates he prefers. He will laugh at your jokes and even crack a few himself.
It is hard to capture the resiliency of his spirit. The best way I can describe it is despite all of the struggles and all the loss he has endured, his spirit is as loving, as devoted, as connected, and as grateful as it ever was. His smile can light up a room and the second you remind him that he is a champion, he beams and tries even harder. His confidence in himself marvels me.
I have never once heard him complain about his life. Never once. Instead, he is a light. He bears goodness on anyone in his presence. He brings out the best in me, I know that. He has become my version of the charming gardener who brings out happiness and blossoms in me.
Jim’s life was on the path much like yours and mine. In an instant it was all gone. And yet, he is the kindest, most humble man, who always shakes my hand to thank me and say goodbye as he looks me in the eye. He could have given up. He could have become bitter and resentful. Instead, he is pure grace and pure light.
One day while I was on the floor at his feet working his very stiff ankle, he whispered something to me. I couldn’t hear him so I asked him to repeat it. He quietly said, “I forgive her”. When I asked him who he was talking about, he said, “the girl who hit me with her car”.
Can you find that kind of grace and forgiveness? Can you live your life without a complaint? Can you be resilient to the tragedy and loss of your own life? Take a lesson from my friend Jim. He knows the way.
