Like millions of others over the 4th of July weekend, I watched – for the first time! – the Broadway hit musical, Hamilton. I knew it would be great, but had no idea how much it would impact me.
A little surrender and a lot of non-attachment allowed me to receive what was given and open to new possibilities.Recently, I looked back on the birth of my daughter. The struggles I am currently facing in writing my first book have mirrored some of my experiences in labor. I sat down and wrote a long piece about it, but didn’t feel I could share all those gory details. Going through the birthing process was not what I had expected, yet it gave me an important gift.
It was the end of September of 2004. My labor started around 5pm, and by 4am the next morning I headed to the hospital with my husband an doula. My plan – a natural birth, without anesthesia. I had prepared myself mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually for this experience. A yoga practitioner and teacher for over 10 years at the time, I believed that my reasonably supple body would handle this just fine.
Last month, I led a spiritual retreat at an idyllic farm, tucked into a secluded valley in Half Moon Bay, California. The focus of our day together was embodiment – being fully present, centered, grounded, and aware in our bodies and connected with the Earth.
In the afternoon, we immersed in a practice called Sit Spot; sitting outdoors, quiet and still, taking in whatever we experience from nature.
I sat on the edge of a field, facing some trees and the rising slope of a hill behind them. There was a gentle breeze, and my gaze lifted up to the clouds floating by. High in the sky, almost at the height of the clouds, I saw a hawk. It was slowly gliding in circles on the currents of air, as hawks often do. I couldn’t stop looking at it as it drifted higher and higher, further and further away over the distant hills until it was just a speck, and then disappeared from my view.
It struck me as an interesting contrast to the idea of embodiment – floating up higher and higher into the clouds, far above the earth, rather than deeply rooted in the soil, as we had much of the retreat.
The morning I wrote this post, I took a Tai Chi class. I find this practice challenging in a different way than I’m used to with yoga. Every time I have taken a class – only a handful of times – I try my best to “get” the movement of the energy and enjoy it.
I’m not that great at it. My mind is too focused on getting it right and not allowing the flow to happen. I get glimpses, where I feel the energy and simply allow the movements, but most of the time I’m looking at the instructor in the mirror and wondering, should I have my elbow up higher? In Waving Hands Like Clouds, does my hand pass by my face or my throat? How far out should my foot be turned? Should I be inhaling or exhaling?
Intellectually, I know that the idea is really to feel the energy and move it around. And I can do that. But not usually at the same time that I am trying to learn a precise action. I get stuck between being in the flow, and being correct. This is a common problem with our minds.
