Yoga / work / life balance

After a couple weeks of volatility and then this historic week in the market - there simply wasn’t time for any extras. Yesterday I took a shower, tied back my hair, put on that lip and went straight to work. Reaching out to clients, reviewing research, making updates - today my throat is raw from so much talking. 

I always set my day with my morning yoga practice but yesterday I had to press it down into a single moment of prayer and hummed my little chants on the way to the office. After I finished up (there is always more to do) I headed home where all my instincts said to curl up with Olive under a blanket and turn out the lights or watch show after show until I went numb. Instead, I pulled out that youtube playlist I made (you can access it here) with led classes. There is one of my teacher Sharath Jois leading a class in Russia. I rolled out my mat and hit “play”. I am instantly transported to Mysore, India. 

 Maybe it looks mentally and physically easy. It isn’t. When I started twenty years ago, I could not touch my toes or hold even the top of a push up position. I can remember my arms trembling and then collapsing beneath me. I have a touch of asthma that made any kind of physical exertion a challenge. Add in a sprinkle of scoliosis and years of PE teachers yelling that I was weak and how I “throw like a girl”. Each pose has taken years to become accessible. Going from 5 minutes a day to anything beyond that is a testament to how well this works for me. 

 And mentally? Well- at first my mind is replaying every story of the day and always through the voice of the very judgmental and evil imaginary overlord in my head. Then comes the pulls of the all the senses - listen to that, what is that in the corner?, this itches, my hair is in my face, etc. And my mind having to swat away each thought and focus on my breath, pose, gaze, my teacher’s voice steadily counting one, two, three. 

 I can feel all the inflammation and stress bloating from the day. The smoothie I try not to expel. I can feel all the reasons to stop the yoga and do something else. And then it shifts. I suddenly realize that my thoughts have stopped. I am just here. Inhaling, exhaling, lift up, jump back. Inside of myself, outside of myself. Residual panic and anxiety from others is now removed. The impossible has happened - I feel centered and grounded.

 My background is not in finance. It is in yoga. I used to try to hide that fact. I was scared people would think I wasn’t good enough. This wasn’t only in my mind. People told me. With time and perspective I now understand a bit more how it all comes together. How it makes perfect sense and how an Ashtanga Yoga practice can help to prepare you mentally for anything. I remember my interview. I remember saying something about how obviously I don’t have a background in finance but that knowledge can be learned and I can learn. The real question was that when you are stuck in an elevator who do you want with you? I have a ton of stories from India, I know how to sit with uncomfortable situations, and I know how to keep showing up each day no matter what. They hired me.

My point is that we all need to develop skills to cope with life, keep healthy, help the world. Skills can be learned.

My thoughts and prayers go out to anyone suffering as a result of the current state of the planet. I’d like to recognize the local business YogaZo for their recent initiative- cancel to keep safe but also continue to pay staff and offer help to anyone in need. This is the kind of thinking we need more of right now.

 I am reminded of something Sharath once said to a student years ago. They said they had so much energy - what should they do for an afternoon practice? His response was that if you have extra energy (even after your morning yoga asana practice) you should volunteer and take care of others.

Travel Diaries: Sayulita

There is so much trust involved when you travel.

"What’s your favorite taco on the menu?" you ask, you risk, you hope for the culinary discovery of a lifetime.  Or "is this drink going to be drugged? Or give me explosive diarrhea or worse?" you think, you pray, you take a leap of faith. You have to forget all of the horror stories you’ve ever read for a moment and follow your gut.  No one wants a bad review. They aren’t going to serve you something here with tap water. It’s not worth the risk of you completely destroying their bathroom. They have seen enough of that.

My gut leads me to my happy place - wandering the side streets of Sayulita. Rows and rows of eye-popping vendors. Each more beautiful and colorful and interesting than the next. I am realizing how lost I am in my own thoughts as I take it all in when suddenly I see a women sitting in the shade of her tent stitching a colorful thread into fabric.

"These are yours!" I exclaim.

"Of course," she replies.

But you see when I went on a wild and incredible journey in 2015 tracing embroidery and textiles all around Mexico I learned that these styles - this style - the sometimes monochromatic and sometimes colorful embroidery on cotton fabric isn't from here.  It is Otomi.  South of here near Veracruz and Puebla. When you want to find the source of a particular color or design or technique, you have to find where this piece was actually made (because it was usually brought here, wherever you are), and then you have to go to the town, and you have to go door knocking to find the maker.  Sometimes it is a factory but more often than not the garment or style or technique can be traced to someone’s grandmother on this particular block in this particular town and that other one is from someone else’s aunt down the street.

It is always like this.  There is a complete shock and awe that comes with the novelty of seeing something for the first time. And then you realize that this particular item that caught your eye is absolutely everywhere.  This is when it gets interesting.  You learn where they are from.  You learn how to see the details that tell you if it was made by hand or machine. You begin to gain a small understanding of what is a complete rip-off and what is an incredible price. And then there is that moment years later when you find something new. An innovation. The person in front of you is adding pom poms from one places to the tapestry from another.  Are these pom poms Huichol?  (That's this area...)  Or are they from Chiapas? (Very south of Mexico bordering Guatemala and Belize...)

My mind is absolutely blown. These pieces in front of me were not shipped in or factory made.  They are being created and edited and adapted and embellished right now, right here.  She is expecting me to bargain and I can’t at all because I'm too busy explaining that "no, seriously this IS special!" I'm trying to explain it in my broken Spanish and the way she looks at me with the thread and needle still in her hand, I know she knows it too.

I wander to the beach where I sink into a lounge chair. I describe what feelings I want from my drink - refreshing, fresh, not really sweet, non-alcoholic - and I don’t know what is delivered but it is hitting the spot. It tastes like bubbly water with lemon, strawberries ice and a little sugar. Maybe it’s simply Mexican Sprite with strawberries. It’s good. U2 is playing in the background over children laughing and the waves and vendors calling out their wares.  It’s a Monday and the beach is packed with locals. Can life be like this?

The track changes to Hotel California. This is only Day 2.

The track is a reminder that Day 7 is coming soon.  And also what lies beyond that if you stayed.

I didn’t wear my signature red lip today. A choice I made as I tied my bikini and headed out the door. A choice the receptionist noticed as well and I’m pretty sure she thought I should go back upstairs and put it on. I know because she told me. My mirror musings confirmed.

But I’m here to eat. And while absolutely nothing will take off this lipstick (except peanut butter) I’m not sure what kind of culinary adventure I’m getting into and the last thing I want to think about is that spot in the middle of your lips that forms when you’ve had oil pass your lips. Naked lips are fine. Red lips are good too. But that halfway lip looks like your swimsuit came untied.

Walking back from the beach at the edge of the market sits two taco stands. The kind of street food establishments where I am forced to go deep inside and trust my gut. That and the checklist of adventurous eater wisdom I’ve picked up over the years.

1. Are there locals present?

Yes, at the second one.

2. Is it in the shade?

Yes, both are in the shade.

3. What does my gut tell me?

The one with the locals.

I ask the owner to tell me her favorite item on the menu. A huge smile creeps across her face. She reminds me of my godmother. Quiet authority that you know you will follow.

"Los camarrones."

A plate arrives with two tacos filled with gently breaded and fried shrimp, lettuce, tomatoes. It’s served on a plastic plate wrapped in a plastic bag. Easy and quick cleanup I assume without the hazard of sick-making tap water when cleaning.

The spread looks fresh and delicious. There’s a bowl with pickled onions in front of me. (My favorite.) There are two squeeze bottles - one with a white sauce the other with pale orange. I add a little of each and take my first bite. I never want to leave.

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On Retreat with David Robson & Jelena Vesnic

The thing is that once you have a steady Mysore practice, it goes with you when you travel.  Sometimes the particulars of making that happen are easy but in my experience they usually are not.  Most often I find myself sandwiched between two beds on a carpeted floor keeping my drishti so that I wouldn't have to see what was lurking under the bed with the AC blasting in my face.  Then there is the food disaster where yes, you are grateful you have food but are also mentally preparing yourself for how this highly processed meal is going to feel tomorrow in Marichasana D (foot in gut now twist).  Or Pasasana (squat and thighs smash guts now twist). Or Purna Matsyendrasana (more foot in gut and twisting action).  

These are things you don't want to have to think about.

Enter yoga vacation aka yoga retreat.  You get to have your practice and eat well too. Sometimes you want to mostly vacation, sometimes you want to mostly retreat, other times you want a healthy mix of both. My recent retreat with David Robson and Jelena Vesnic was just that.

Sayulita is a small surfer town north of Puerto Vallarta. You can take the bus or taxi or have a car arranged by your hotel.  You don't really need a map because vegan and vegetarian and organic and farm fresh local food and taco stands are waiting to be discovered around every corner. Design-forward local makers abound.  Eco-conscious mostly everything and recycling bins aplenty.  The beach...

We stayed at Hotelito de los Suenos where we also had our morning Mysore practice. Rooms were simple, clean, and with air conditioning.  Post-practice breakfast was offered daily with everything from chilaquiles (kind of like breakfast nachos) to avocado toast.  Lately, I have preferred to have my first meal around noon so after practice I would wander off through town just as it woke up.  I love this moment anywhere.  The air is different.  The birds in the trees.  The "just before".  I would wander through the sleepy streets to Organi-k for the "No Bad Days" smoothie (alt milk, cacao, banana, chia, hemp, peanut butter...) that I would have for lunch.  It is really something that bringing your own reusable cup is starting to be the standard everywhere.

We had three workshops - just the right amount.  I'm not so into geeking out on these things so much these days but sometimes we all need a little encouragement and reassurance that we are on the right path.  When you practice on your own most of the time, you need this.  (Well, I suppose you don't need it, but it is nice.) And when your teacher is in India and you aren't, reassurance takes longer to receive. You'd think that being authorized means that everyone is offering the same information.  This isn't always the case.  Life can get lonely.  But with David and Jelena, I felt right at home.