Dreaming

People say that if they received the diagnosis of cancer they wouldn't go down without a fight. This begs the question that if you'll fight to survive, why not fight to thrive? Why are we so given to complacency and contentment? Why do we give up on our true dreams so easily and fall softly into the status quo? When does the fight begin? Should we wait until given a death sentence to feel the desire to really live?

If you were lucky the adults in your life told you to dream big as a child. They supported your imagination and your ability to see how a piece of string on the couch is really a serpent perched in its castle. We call this the "inner child" in adulthood and some of us are lucky enough to hang on. But for the vast majority moving from childhood meant "growing up" and out of dreaming.

I had an experience recently that freed me to get in touch with that happy-go-lucky little girl that built fortresses in the dirt on the elementary school playground. I traveled abroad and for the first time in, well, definitely too long, I was able to meet up with that creative free spirit and gave it full permission to inform my decisions. It felt natural and by that I mean my head wasn't getting in the way. Life was like play again and I could dream without that lurking "voice of reason" admonishing my free thinking. For instance, I woke up one morning so full of energy after a long hike that I took off down a road to meet up with a horse and while walking/jogging/running there actually leapt a few times and kicked my heels together. This spontaneity is joy and dreaming is joy. Our whole lives can be joyful if we decide to celebrate each moment and look at life as one endless opportunity for turning our dreams into reality.

dream big to live joyfully

YogaHiking in Connecticut

Stepping onto the trail we were greeted by wild purple iris, frogs, and ferns. Greens of all shades popped from the tree branches, ground covering, and moss that hugged onto rock ledges. The fresh air entered into our lungs as we set our day’s intentions to the sound of “Om”. The day continued with a mindful hike and deep observation of nature. A quick yoga stretch and our journey continued. Climbing, we felt the direct connection between the earth’s contours and our own bodies as our breath began to deepen and heat built up in our muscles.

The sun shined on our faces as we took warrior pose gazing up to the birds above. In mountain pose, strength and length were built in the spine and stable legs. We flowed through sun salutations welcoming the sun’s warmth and the surrounding tree’s gentle embrace. With Mother Nature as our guide, we celebrated each moment renewing our spirit and energy. The single track trail cut through rock face and over small streams where lady slipper and mountain laurel flanked the trail painting flecks of pink and yellow onto the glowing green canvas.

At the break, our teeth sank into sprouted whole grain bread as we soaked up tastes of avocado, crunchy cucumber, and smooth pine nut hummus layered beneath savory sprouts and organic cheddar cheese. Accompanying this we indulged in dark chocolate and roasted almonds as well as lightly salted organic stove top popcorn and organic apples.

Following this tasty delight, Rebecca Taliercio led us in an Introduction to Qigong where we recharged our energy and centered ourselves before pairing off to learn basic massage techniques. Thoroughly sated and relaxed we continued our journey, intentions still in our hearts.

At the end of the day we unwound with gentle yoga and reflected on the lessons of the trail. Thanks was given to all that nature and the pursuit of more conscious living can provide: openness, spaciousness, clarity, a non-judgmental well of love, a fountain of inspiration, and a forum for connection with ourselves and others. Om.

A special thanks to those that participated in the YogaTrails Pilot.
With gratitude,
Kyle

Opening up to Yoga

In the beginning, there was soccer. And running. Soccer meant running and running meant health. At 23, I suffered a back injury that kept me from running. This sudden loss led me to search for a new outlet and a revised meaning of health. Painful as the injury was, the deeper pain was felt in the emotional layers of losing something that for a long time had served as an identity. I am a runner. I started to try on other identities like I am a walker, a bike rider, a swimmer. None of these satisfied me in the way running did. To me, I felt like I was posing in someone else's shoes. That's when I started yoga. I can remember my first class. I stepped onto the mat with my socks on unknowingly committing yoga fopaux #1. As I continued with the classes, learning yogic breathing techniques and meditation as well as the postures, I started to open up to a new love. In some ways yoga was like running. Yoga helped me tone my muscles and increase my breathing capacity. When I practiced I felt openness and free, inspired and connected. There was a yoga "high" that I had experienced with running. Four years later and my back is fully healed but I felt whole long before. Yoga has offered me an incredible source of joy, love and connection.

Lessons from the Heart

The heart speaks with a gentle voice and quietly. It doesn´t say much but it is full of pure love. It doesn´t compete with the ego mind or squabble with body. It has no judgement, only love. It is calm and sweet, tender and nurturing. It tells me that ¨I can¨ and ¨I will be ok¨

Viejos in Vilcabamba

From the hostel in Vilcabamba the flowers peak over the hillside to the opposite mountain range. The sun rose as I practiced yoga with birds swooping and chirping about. A butterfly glides into the soft landing pad of a gorgeous tropical yellow flower. Ginger plants lean heavily into the path for the dorm to the restaurant. The simple structure of the cafe supports a rooftop garden that extends beyond the roof like eyelashes. I stilled my mind as the sun rose. Time may be passing but it´s at a slower pace. OM.

Hiked in Vilcabamba along the clay ledge of a single track trail to a steep waterfall. We were 6 people and ventured into a discussion about depression. One had lost a dad to suicide and another both parents to illness and one other had been bed ridden for 6 weeks with severe depression. So, we are all on this journey we realized. All of us striking out against our achilles heal that sometimes tightens with fear. But we cant listen to it for too long or give into that sometimes sweet temptation to pull the covers over our eyes and hide from the scary edges of the world and our mind. On the mountain I felt full of vigor even despite the morbid talk, the vibrant surroundings lifted all of our spirits.

Day #2
6 hours on a horse named Pisco --> one sore ass. Followed by massage, facial and reiki--> Heaven. Literally, I have never felt so balanced in my life. The calm settled into my body and I felt pure alignment, completely de-clogged with energy freed up. To begin, look into the heart. Have courage and move with grace. Accept challenges even if fear shows up.

Cobblestone Streets of Cuenca

Here we are in Cuenca, a colonial city that is colorful and clean. We kicked off our first day by checking into El Cafecito and touring the town on foot.

Back at the hostel, our dorm room opens up to a lively bar scene. Here we started the night, had our palms read by a gypsy and later walked through cobblestone streets with a bright moon overhead speaking broken Spanish and laughing. We layed doesn in the middle of the road and felt like young free travelers up for any adventure. Shortly after, we ended up at La Mesa, a hole in the wall salsa club. We danced until early in the AM, sweating on a dance floor as old as the conquistador´s reign.

Cuenca to Villcabamba via Loja we passed through rolling hills with low growth pine almost like a wild Christmas tree farm. It has a beachy feel with a mixture of grasses and rock beds with sand dunes. the land is not farmed like in other parts and not quite as steep. The Panamerican highway, at least in this portion, is very well maintained. Our driver speeds through low-hanging clouds.

We´re traveling where verdant pastures bleed into red rock and eroding yellow clay. The women in Saraguro walk proudly with black ponchos secured with ornate silver pins that sparkle even in overcast weather. Women here are efficient and wise. They knwo the land and how to navigate the changing seasons and changing times as modern influences present new challenges. They pass down their customs and work communally to raise the new generations to be stewards of the land. The beautiful land and wise mother earth is reflected in the wrinkles and wisdom of these women.

Breathe deep, the world is rich with wonder...

Yoga on the Runs

There is almost no way to escape it: the infamous Travler´s diarrhea.
This was the part of the trip that a little friend decided to come along and use my body as his vehicle. His name: The Grey Matter.

During this time I read The Alchemist, by Paul Coehlo and ate white and light. There wasn´t a whole lot in terms of asana practice but I was mindful of what I ate and how my body felt and also how that affected my mind. Paul Coehlo is brilliant and his own life story inspiring. The book explored one boy´s search for his true destiny. His story enchants and invites you to observe the present and live in the moment to really experience the joys and hardships of living.

In yoga this quest to live out ones dream (to realize one Personal Legend-PC) means to follow ones Dharma, or virtuous path. In both, there is this notion that when you release from the security and false comforts of contentment to follow this quest, the universe provides all that is necessary to help you on your way. That said, the path will not be straight and not always easy. There may be beginners luck as Coelho indicates, but challenges will arise and will make one question the true value of their dream. These challenges are necessary if the dream is to be realized.

There is also a tendency to fear the completion of a quest as if it will not yield the expected results but rather be empty or lacking the awe and enchantment that only a dream can really possess.

So true value, I am discovering, is the pursuit of the dream and the experience with oneself and others along the way. There is value as well in strength that one builds on the journey and in the hope that one gives to others who are inspired by the bravery and true living of a person on their quest-personal legend.

There is no map, nor directions. There is no crystal ball. Instead, there is a compass that changes moment to moment as the present mind observes and reacts with pure intention.

What can I say, the Grey Matter and Paul Coelho, both powerful teachers...

Black Sheep Yoga

Four hours on a bumpy dusty road, flying cliffside at the mercy of our driver, we traveled to the Black Sheep Inn in Cochilan, Ecuador. Amanda and I packed a rather creative picnic feast that included a hot corn soup, rice and meat and a plump mango for dessert. The whole back seat of the bus had been open so we relished the adventure of school days past and set up our lunch on top of a trekking pack laid on its side, a plastic bag served as a table cloth. As the dust flew and we bounced we slurped down hot soup and quick bites of meat. We added the rice and meat to the soup to increase efficiency and accuracy and proceeded to fly off our seats laughing uncontrolably as the locals glanced perplexed.

Two hours into the trip, we, of course, needed a small snack so Amanda produced the mango and knife and inbetween potholes and tight corner turns, carefully procured the most tasty treat I could have imagined. Mind you that at this point we were already covered in dust...my hair practically turned to dreads and now were glistening with the sweet mango sap. We were the dusted and juiced equivalent to being tarred and feathered.

Bedraggled but by no means beaten down we arrived at The Black Sheep Inn feeling most akin to the name. In less than two minutes I fell in love with the gorgeous eco-lodge set into a mountain side with nothing but mountains and a fast moving clouds at eye level. The air was thin but refreshing and immediately reinvigorating. But wait, it gets better. Enter into the bathroom to find a composting toilet that smells like wood chips and while adding to the fertilization process yourself, you enjoy the most fabulous view of the mountain range. Incredible! Showering I can´t even get into but combined with the fact of just how sticky, sweaty, and sweet the ride out had left me the shower was basically pure heaven.

And the yoga! Incredible...warrior poses overlooking a teal blue laguna and dancer pose into the setting sun behind the mountains.. Elation, some tears of joy, kind of like coming home.

Yoga in the Middle of the World

A mere 15 miles from the equator might apear to be a death sentence from a hot poker but at elevation Quito has a "spring-like" feel year round. I was welcomed into a lovely and warm family and for the next week we shared side splitting laughs, delicious Ecuadorian dishes and nights out on the town dancing salsa and making up moves to gringo pop.

In the morning I unrolled my travel yoga mat and started with a gentle warm-up. To my surprise, I was short of breath after only a few minutes. I relaxed in child´s pose to find my breath again. And so moment by moment I was aware of the thinness of the air at this height and the impact it had on both my body and mind. The poses felt different as well and there was nothing routine about the very basic transitions I was making and poses that I held. My practice adjusted by being slower and more concentrated like a reduced liquid with more potency. After a few days I could practice just about 45 minutes at a time and even that felt equivalent to my typical 90 minute class.