Meditation Mini-Retreat, September 1-10

September mornings are my favorite mornings of the year.  Still warm enough to be comfortable, and just starting to get cool.  Please join me for 10 days in a row of sitting and walking meditation, Buddhist psychology and meditation technique, Taoist principles and Yogic breathing (pranayama). No experience necessary.  Appropriate for total beginners, anyone looking to boost their daily practice, or to experience the powerful energy of group meditation.Pre-register online at http://yogacenterofchico.com/

Navigating Heartbreak and Loss

I don’t write very often. I don’t write because everything has already been said, and at least one person has said it better than I ever could. But despite the lack of original ideas and original words, and despite the fact that this particular topic has already been cooked until soggy, I am writing you today, dear readers, to talk about heartbreak. But first, let’s talk about meditation.I have a daily practice. I wake up, go to my little puja table, set my timer, sit down and say my daily meditation prayer*. Usually, the dreams from the night before will be the first morsel of distraction after having a seat, followed by a laundry list of to-do's for the day, and finally, in the last minute or two of the session, I find that my mind is obedient, still and quiet. Some days feel more successful than others, but even one or two minutes of stillness helps to set the tone for my day. And although seeing “progress” on the day to day is less obvious, all the good teachers say to be patient and the results will come. I know that it is a practice, not a destination, so I persist.Recently, I experienced a loss. Like salt on a slug, we all know this shriveling, crushing, slow-death feeling, so there’s no need to elaborate. But since meditating with some regularity in the last few years, the practice seems to have prepared my heart, mind and body in an unexpected way-- in a way that brings a new clarity to this all-too-familiar experience of loss. When I sit down in the morning and the overwhelm of sadness hits me like a wave, I can see myself grasping for reassurance, attention, or something to fill the void. I can feel the hot bile of anger rising in my throat.  I can feel the teakettle of tears under pressure behind my eyes. I can feel the bass drum of dread thumping in my chest. I can feel my tender heart contracting against the reality of the moment. I can see all the ways in which I am attached, and all the ways in which I am avoiding. But instead of following through with an habitual exit strategy or distraction tactic, I'm finding that I can sit with the pain a little more easily.  I'm facing my loss head on and with a sense of objectivity. Whereas, in the past, the combination of the loss itself and a lack of practiced mindfulness had absolutely obliterated my ability to see past the pain of my own experience. I used to ignorantly think that I wouldn’t be able to endure yet another heartbreak. What a delusion! What is happening now, through meditation, is what feels like a fortification of my heart.  I am able to yield into the pain, rather than resist the experience of grief. Shitty little fact: It takes practice to get good at grieving.When we suffer-- from loss, trauma, heartbreak, and deep grief, it can shatter our hearts.  But rather than resist and shut down, maybe we can see the pain as an opportunity to expand the capacity of our hearts. Can we use our vulnerability as an opportunity to grow? Can we learn to feel what's  beneath the pain of our own experience in a way that allows us to tap into the vastness of our compassion?   Can we use our grief as a way to connect more deeply to ourselves, our family, our friends, our lovers, our enemies, and our global brothers and sisters, knowing that they too are suffering?  When we are able to sit with our pain, we start to open up to the possibility of healing past wounds.  We are actually sitting with the pain of a million heartbreaks, endless loss, and infinite grief. Meditation during a period of loss, heartache and pain can allow us to feel more directly into our humanity, if we are willing.There seems to be a widespread misconception that meditation is an escape route, or a spiritual bypass to feeling pain. It is not. It is a way to for us to honestly see, feel, and experience the ebb and flow of life in its’ unadulterated truth. If we have the courage to look deeply enough at our own suffering, it will show us a doorway to transform pain into potential. Fear into growth, vulnerability into strength, hatred into compassion, disdain into forgiveness and grief into love. The world is suffering. Can we be wise enough to use our own experience of pain as a catalyst for peace?*Daily MeditationMay I be truly grateful for this day before me.May I use it well and be mindful in all my thoughts, words and actions.May I gracefully accept and learn from all that I encounter.May I be compassionate and release all judgment in the face of that which does not meet my ideals.May I be still and attentive enough to receive and recognize divine guidance.       

Traveling Alone

I have been traveling by myself in Europe for exactly 8 weeks now. If I had to describe my experience in one word, I couldn't. It's been all at once exhilarating, empowering, challenging and exhausting. I haven't written in a while for a few reasons; one being that I am typing on a tiny iPhone, but moreover, I've had a million things to say and not a clue where to begin. So I guess I'll start at the obvious point; Yoga.My yoga practice has taken on a different form lately. I'm off the mat for longer than I have been in years. My yoga now is a matter of putting into practice all of the fundamentals of grounding, centering, internal focus, presence, breath work and equanimity in order to support myself in this mind-bending, heart-melting emotional stew that I've thrown myself into. As I bounce from one place to the next, I seek to find stability. With conditions constantly changing, I seek to find the center of stillness within me. Within the comfortable din of a language that I don't understand, I draw my attention inward to better understand myself. In the moments of fatigue, frustration, and overwhelming emotion, I find myself taking deeper breaths. I am using the tools of yoga to create contentment in my life now, which is a far cry from where I was 2 or even 4 months ago.It hasn't been easy in a lot of ways. I feel odd writing this, as if I should censor myself and instead paint for you a picture of quaint cobblestone alleys lined with flower merchants and cafés, magical markets stocked with fresh fruits and vegetables, heaps of olives and dates and every variety of cheese that you can imagine. The smell of sautéed garlic, lots of local fish and meat and wine found among centuries old architecture, with views of the Mediterranean just around the next corner. And maybe these are the kinds of things you want to hear, and I certainly don't blame you, it is a beautiful picture. But even as I experience the beauty of all of these things, I am simultaneously experiencing a deep loneliness, sadness, and confusion.I considered keeping this from you, perhaps as an egoic attempt to preserve the likely unrealistic picture you may have in your head about me and my journey, but I have made a commitment to the truth. I've made a commitment to be truthful in my own life, to seek the truth in others, and as a teacher, I've made the commitment to deliver truth to my students. And the truth is that I'm struggling. I'm struggling with my shyness and my insecurities, my inabilities, my ego. Sometimes all I can do is sit down and cry. I write this not as a sob story designed to gain sympathy, but to remind myself that it's ok to feel grief and frustration and pain and tiredness. And it's ok for you to see me in these perhaps unsavory states, because they are all on the psychic and emotional spectrum of a whole human being. In this truth, I remember that we are all things at all times, and those of you who really know me, know that I embody this truth.I've had more opportunity now than I ever have had before to really be with these aspects of who I am. But I see them, and I get to know them and I try to be kind to myself about them. I get lost in the streets and explore the markets by myself. I make jokes to myself about myself. I have only myself to rely on, to blame, to be with. But even in the most frustrating, exhausting and lonesome moments, I know that I'm not alone in my struggle. Because even if we are surrounded by friends and family and familiarity, we are all just trying to navigate the intricate, sometimes unintelligible maps of our own hearts and minds. And that, my friends, is not an easy journey to take.

Love Letters

Dearest students and beloved clients of Shelter Island,I am writing you from my apartment in Mallorca, Spain. Second story, overlooking the pool and garden below, the calm waters of the Mediterranean in the distance. The sounds of the crickets are carried through my windows on the last breath of summer. Summer. I suppose I never really knew the importance of this season until I spent a summer on Shelter Island. As a Californian, I realize now that my appreciation for the season pales in comparison to the New Yorker.Never before in my yoga career have I met a group of people more in need of a fun, relaxing, yoga filled summer. A break from the city, the grind, the pressure, the hustle. What I observed though, is that just because the sun is shining and there is wind in the sails, doesn't mean that it's that easy to switch gears and soften into the season. Once a shell is hardened by the cold it becomes difficult to penetrate.Over the course of the summer, I had the opportunity to really get to know some of you. I want to, first of all, thank you for opening your hearts to me and allowing me to see your sweet and sensetive souls. I can imagine that in such a stressful, competitive, and high pressure environment, that it might be difficult to trust, accept and open up to a new person. I am touched deeply that you did trust and accept me and I thank you from the fathoms of my heart. You reminded me, in my moments of insecurity and doubt, that I had made the right choice to come to New York. You reminded me that we are all human and that we are are bound together by this experience. You reminded me in my moments of fear and anger the importance of compassion. You reminded me that even the hardest of shells hold the sweetest of contents. I saw myself in your reflection, and in that reflection, I saw the capability that we all have to open our hearts just a little bit wider.You are the reason I am where I am at this exact moment. I literally wouldn't have made it here with out you. As the days get shorter, the air a bit chillier, as the kids start school and perhaps as you try to squeeze in one last sail, may your heart still be filled with the sunshine of the summer. And remember that I am here reflecting from afar all the love you have given me, in the hopes that it might warm your heart when the weather gets cold.Love, Cheri

Inversions Workshop

This workshop is designed for the beginning and intermediate practitioner to learn (or review) how to move safely in and out of inverted poses. Focus with be on building the strength and awareness necessary for inversions. Themes will include overcoming fears, restoring balance, and ultimately changing our perspective. Featured poses will be (but not limited to) Shoulderstand, Headstand, Forearm Balance and Handstand.Please join me on Saturday September 28th from 12:30 to 3pm at Earth Yoga, Santa Catalina, Palma de Mallorca, Spain.

Love Letters

Dearest Students of In Motion Fitness,I miss you. I miss your presence, your dedication to your practice, your openness. I miss your lovely smiles and glowing energy. I miss at 10:45 and I miss you at noon. I miss you at 8am for meditation and I miss you at 6:45 to get tropical. But I digress. To miss something is to be apart from something and that separateness from you that I sometimes feel is just an illusion. You are all still in my heart now and always. The imprint that you have left on my life continues to amaze me.Here in New York, I am the outsider, the new girl. Eyes full of scrutiny, hearts full of doubt and minds full of discontent fill my classes. It reminds me of the true meaning of the word “Yoga”. Yoga is not just Asana. It is a practice in finding peace. It is a way to confront the discontent in our hearts. It is a way to still the body in order to observe the mind. It is a daily practice- not just on the mat but ALWAYS. Always practice mindfulness, always practice observance, always practice compassion, contentment, loving kindness, patience and awareness.Discontent, restlessness, and judgement reflect in our bodies. It is easy to spot! On the same token, peacefulness, openness and contentment also shine through in our faces and bodies. These things become our Mudra, the physical manifestations of the heart and mind. It is my job to look at not only your bodies, postures and the nuances of alignment, but also to observe the energetic body and how your posture or Mudra reflects either the flowing or blocking of that energy. We literally ARE what we think about! Our thoughts and feelings have the power to heal us or to lead us into disease.Having said this, I want to thank you all from the depths of my heart. Thank you for putting your trust in me. Thank you for your open spirit. Thank you for allowing me to lead you for so many years. Thank you for your presence. Thank you for all of your hard work. Thank you for showing me your patience and compassion when I needed it, for showing your fellow students the same. This is YOGA!Please continue to practice yoga. Not just Asana. And remember to greet all of your teachers with the same receptivity and willingness you showed me, because they just might be the “New Girl”. Besides, malcontent doesn’t look good on anyone. ☺Love,Cheri