Clean it up, Yogis!! Fall reminders 🕉

Hello, my friends. Students. Fellow helpers. Here. There. If you’re reading this, I hope it helps you. It may not pertain to all studios or practices, but I would find that most of it would be relevant wherever you practice. No one has ever spelled these things out for me, but I would imagine they would be helpful to hear. I’m learning more and more that my job is to spell things out for y’all. I realize that not everyone has devoted their life to the study of yoga, and I totally respect that. Part of my responsibility is to go out and get these experiences so that I can share them with you, should they be beneficial to your evolution and healing. Some are on the website, some are posted throughout the studio, and I address some things in class, but I’m usually telling you where to put your hands and your feet, or what book to order, or what’s in my smoothie…. So I understand that there are always gaps, and of course…. We are so incredibly human, thank goodness, and we forget…. So here goes…

As we all tend to do as we get around family, we have gotten a little less mindful, and a lot more comfortable. Which. I. LOVE. The family part. Not the less mindful part…. It is honestly beautiful to sit around and watch new friendships happen in the studio and to watch people connect. That is the soul reason these doors are open. For connection. But just like my twang starts to get thick when I get around my family…. Our mindful practices have gotten a little thin. Don’t worry. As your teacher, I take full responsibility. One- I’ve been away. Two-I’m pulled in a lot of directions telling a lot of people a lot of things, so of course, we must always go back to the beginning. My favorite thing to do is hug it in and start at the beginning. Three-I realize maybe I never told you. So here I am with the 411. On this new moon. In this new infinite year…

• There are NO cell phones in the yoga room. None. Nonezo. Notta. Under any circumstances. Yoga is the one place where we can practice turning it off. The noise. The stimulation. The dinging. The ringing. The distraction. The very sight of a phone is distracting. So. You cannot bring it in the practice room. None of you. Any of you. If you feel the need to be hooked into your phone right up until class starts, that is entirely your business, and I will love you, always…. you can sit in the lobby. With me. And my phone. As it dings and rings and I try and get just the right playlist…. If you have people that may need you, you can practice trusting that the world will be ok for the hour that you take care of yourself. I have been a single mother for 17 years. And she’s driving now. And she can’t get ahold of me when I’m practicing or teaching. And it drives her nuts sometimes. And I worry. And no exceptions. If you see someone with their phone in the yoga room, feel free to kindly let them know our studio policy.

• When the teacher comes in, it is time for you to stop telling your story. Immediately. Not when you’re finished. Not in a quieter tone. It’s time for practice. This would be best practice anywhere. With any teacher. In any space. You have the opportunity to raise awareness here, to be the example, whether you are the talker or the listener. Shhhhh…

• Keep conversations on the quiet side. Again it is amazing that we are a family. For some, actually many, they are new, and they are coming into perhaps the ONLY peaceful place they go, ever. Classes are crowded now, and there are more and more beautiful conversations to be had. Let’s just be conscious of the noise level and the content of the conversations. The energetic/vibrational quality. Is it kind? Is it necessary? Lately the conversations are getting louder and louder, sometimes gossipy and negative, so your work is to be mindful and keep the environment inviting for everyone, not just friends or groups.

• Look around. Especially you OG yogis. Extra especially if you’re a studio ambassador or instructor. Is someone new? Newer? Do they look like they have a question. If you did not see me personally explain the studio and props, or you see they do not have blocks, please offer kind, simple assistance. Going to yoga is weird. We all know that. Try and think back to when you began yoga. How did you feel? Did someone help you? Let’s connect on a higher level.

• Shoes/purses/yoga accessories…. all the STUFF that y’all bring to yoga, leave it in the lobby. Or your car. 1-the classes are crowded, and there’s just no room for more stuff. 2-y’all don’t need it. Blocks are good. Perhaps a strap/blanket. Bolsters are not needed until the end of class unless you are at a particular class. Less is always gonna be more.

• Clean up after yourselves. Take a few extra seconds to make sure the things are put back neatly, and ready for the next practitioner to come in and get to be in an orderly place. Help each other ❤️

• Food…. For most, you should not eat two hours, give or take, before practicing these special practices. The entire experience of yoga is to be lighter. Higher. It’s hard to get into all of the dietary and philosophical teachings of yoga and diet in a class or a quick blog, but they are all intimately connected, and I believe, incredibly important. The first tenet of yoga is to not harm. This is practiced in our choice of food, and how the consumption of our food affects us. Whatever you ingest will affect your practice. Your body. Your mind. Your spirit. Eat light. Eat kindly. If you don’t believe me…. Dig in. Eat it all. Have dessert. Go to yoga. Observe how you feel. Adjust.

• Water…. Your hydration is extremely important, and ultimately, like everything else, your responsibility. You’re gonna need a LOT of water, here on earth as a human being…. But you don’t need it during practice. When you grab your water bottle, no matter how mindful you are being…. you are coming out of your practice. You are coming out of any conscious breathing and moving that is available to you in that time. It’s another distraction. To help in these thirsty situations, I try and make sure I drink enough water. Daily. Then, I do not take my water bottle in. If I find myself fidgety or ‘thirsty’ I try and acknowledge those feelings, those desires, witness them, and let them pass until my practice is over. I get back to my practice.

• It’s ok to come out of a pose. It’s ok to run pee. It’s ok to ask a question. It’s ok to run grab a prop. It’s ok to be kind.

• If you come in early, before other classes are finished, you should not talk in the lobby until someone opens the door to signal class is over. The yogis that are still in practice are in the most difficult and important part of practice, and our little lobby wall is not soundproof. In fact, you can hear everything in the practice room that happens in the lobby. Please come in silently until we come out of the room all yoga dazed and confused.

• If you’re hot, rest. Dizzy? Rest. You’ll learn as you go. You’ll get stronger soon. You can come in and out of practice as you need, and as you are able to regulate your own breathing. Diet, breathing, and pacing will have a huge impact on your body temperature, as well, and the good news is you’re in control of those.

• If you are practicing with an injury or illness, please speak to me, Dani, to help you with modifications. I am a certified yoga therapist, as well as a professional counselor, and I am here to help. There may be options as you heal or recover that may make your practice more accessible and helpful.

• The speaker is where it is. It ain’t even fancy. It’s one speaker-hole where all of the sound comes out. If you are sensitive, you’ll have to move away from the speaker toward the front of the class. If I ever get to writing Ellen, maybe we’ll get some surround sound… In the meantime, do not ask the teacher to adjust. You adjust. More volume, close to the speaker, less volume, away from the speaker.

• Where the mats go. I will try this week to have some sort of marker for rows. You do not have a space. I know this is hard, I, too, have a favorite spot. Let’s be unattached. It’s a practice…. From now on we are leaving the spots around the walls for those who need the wall support. If you practice regularly, and it’s one of the crowded classes, you will need to move toward the interior of the room so that anyone who needs the wall can have access to it.

• If someone comes in after class starts, move closer to each other side by side to make room. Don’t hesitate. Just be helpful. No one comes to yoga late on purpose. They’ve made a great effort to get there, and still walk in, even though they’re late, so let’s make it kind.

This is all I can think of for now. Of course, there is always more. If you do get ahold of this article, please be a helper, as the studio is always a reflection out into our community. I hope you find it all useful, and can even carry it into other mindful practices and relationships that you have outside the studio.

ALL my heart,

Dani

Earth Wind & Fire...

I’ve been gone for 6 weeks with the exception of a few days… I had a side trip to France before my epic retreat in Greece, then onto Omega in NY to work with Rebecca Campbell again and fangirl over yogis, then to Ohio outrunning a friggin hurricane…. I’m desperate to ground, but perhaps that is not in the cards for this earth girl….

‘Grab me by ankles, I’ve been flying for too long…’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R1TSiB9OuVM

I left on a new moon in August, and would stay till the full. Leo season, of course. It’s always a Leo…. I’d be on that magic island where I don’t sleep and don’t need to. I’d laugh and play and love hard and teach from my guts and just do my soul work. I’d have my heart expanded and broken, all in the course of a growing moon, and I’d come home and be new. I’d be healed. I’d be clear. And this year would be different. I wouldn’t stall out like I did last year. I’d finally be fucking ready. I’d close out this three month astrological shit storm saying goodbye and hello from my soul home on that shore in Santorini where I met my heart and lost my mind and found myself years ago…. and that would be that…. or so I thought…. But as always. There’s more.

So all of that happened… And as the moon grew, so did my restless nature. I preach and practice stillness, but my perpetual now keeps my feet tangled and my heart homeless. So I went down to my beloved black beach. Followed by my soul sisters and big brothers and one false witness. We brought words and fire and stars and I did not have plan because I’ve never died before. I sat in the shore and they pushed the earth over and around me and I invited parts of me to die. The fears and the sickness. The weakness. The stuckness. The indecision… The victim…. I would have more deadly battles, but slow deaths make you ready for the battlefield. From the girl who has never fallen…. From the girl who doesn’t look sick. From the one who started it all, unwell and unready and alone and without…. I invited it all to go. I was done with the story and needed no identifying marks. I cried and screamed and fought and surrendered in the same sobbing breaths. I heard my voice and so did this world. I was held. By the earth, by the loving souls who have trusted me with theirs, and I’ll never forget the looks in their eyes as I opened mine… They lit the fires and read the words and threw the stars and layed the hands…. And I don’t know where time went, or if it was ever real. I was scared and I did it anyways. I let down my guard and took off my clothes and ran freely into the Agean Sea. And I flew home at night, under the fullest of moons. Reborn. Ready.

And the burial wasn’t enough. I guess my (re)birth would be slow and uncertain, just as my old self’s death. I’d have to travel again, hardly repacking my bag, with a new circle, and soul sisters and different books, and different looks, and there was no special moon this year, but the rituals would not be lost. I spent my last penny to chant through the night and cry and pray and sing and offer it up. It burned as usual. I thought my voice was free…. The days were the same and I was bored and ready and could.not.get.home…. This time I would burn it down. My element of choice, as we circled the flames hand in hand, and called in the directions and sang each other home and offered anything that was left into the ceremony of fire, not to cover it up or wash it away, but to TRANSFORM it, and I’m glad I stayed. I already said I was ready, but my warning was to rest….

And still it was not time to be ready. I had to go again. I needed to escape a hurricane and my tired feet were not allowed to stay home. I was still not permitted to do my work, and I fought that, too. And I raced the winds, and unwritten words flooded my mind and I remained uprooted, and would have to wait…. What’s 10 more days when you’ve waited your whole life to come back home to your self?

Fall begins, and this moon swells all the way, and my schedule is unrealistic, and everybody’s too busy to help and I am tired again, and I am ready. For this season. This moon. This life. I don’t feel any different, but after all this…. it’s inevitable. I’ve got things to say, and people to help and truths to tell, and none of them will be easy. But I buried all of my excuses and burnt down my walls and washed away the limits… Which I highly recommend, but most of y’all ain’t ready…. This ain’t gonna be pretty… But I’m ready. It’s my favorite season. This season belongs to the wild woman. It came in tearing things apart, and it’s dedicated to the falling away, and I’m no stranger to loss…. I’m ready to lose it all again and again if it ain’t right. I got a clear message to rest, but as usual, I’ll have to do my work while I continue to heal, as this was always my work to do…. I hope you’re all ready. For whatever changes come. For all the cleaning up the wreckage…. You’re gonna have to trust me or let me go…. I’ll be squirming and fighting all the way, always uncomfortable, but I’m ready. Here’s to the fall…

‘I thought I was flying but maybe I’m dying tonight…’

risen

Sobbing

The gargle hum in the back of of my throat.  That was born of my belly.

The holding.

The crying out.

     Of the gods

          of my sisters

               of my mothers

The dissolving

     of boundaries

          of binds

               of barriers

The urgent whispers

     to return

          to rise up

               to relinquish

The sound of a flower 

filling my nose

     to my heart

     my lips burn

     with words

     and prayers

     and power

Frozen and free

I am held.

     I am home.

          I hold it down.

              I offer it up.

                    I am risen. 

Getting UP

At first I rose on a whisper - A faint and confident invitation I heard in between sobs and dark days and lifetimes of down...  

Get up...

At first I rose shaking - crawling.  My knees buckled at the weight of my heart.  It hurt too much to move.  

Get up...

At first I rose in silence - It would be many years before the words would come or the tears would stop.  Years before I would hear or see clearly... 

Get up...

At first I rose blindly - Feeling around in the heavy dark.  Begging for the way.  Fighting and trusting each step...  

Get up...

At first I rose for me - The lifetimes of having it all backwards and not understanding my gifts had taken its toll and left me on the floor...  

Get up...

At first I rose sick - Weak from the words that were stuck in my throat and had poisoned my mind and doused my light...  The accident that made me small.  My color faded away into the same fear that took may voice.  I choked on thoughts.   

Speak up...  

At first I rose alone - And I was sure it would kill me.  But it was the very thing that restored my power.  And I'll never curse the darkness of solitude again.  It's where I found myself...  

Get up...

At first I rose uncomfortable - Why did it hurt so much to stand up?  Why couldn't I breathe?  Will I fall back down?  Can you see me?  Can you hear me?  Whose voice is that?  Where am I?  Why is this mine?  Will you help me?

Ok.  I'll get up...

And I rose for her - Slowly.  Completely barren and terrified.  I fought for her.  She chose me.  She tore my womb open with her birth, looking up to me to show her the way, and I almost missed that, too...  

I HAD TO GET UP...

And then I rose for anyone.  I knew I had to help.  Anyone who showed up.  Even if they were too heavy, yet and weighted me down.  We walk before we run.  I was ready for the lessons...  

I was getting up...

And then I still rose - Without...  Without the teachers and the lovers and the healers.  They were conditional.  But they were without, too...  Teaching me not to lose myself on the way up...  

The Kingdom of Heaven is WithIN...  

Get up...

And now I rise for you - I rise for anyone still crawling around in the dark.  I'll share this light.  It is infinite.  I rise for anyone whose voice has not yet made it out of their own heart.  Mine still shakes, but it is certain and devoted and I speak to encourage.  I rise for anyone who still feels held down by this heavy life.  It wasn't meant to be lived on the ground.  I'm strong now and I'm here to serve.  I'll take your hand...  

But you have to get up...

The Herricane Speaks

I am the voice of the mother... Crying in waves.  Whispering in winds.  Winds and waves and words.  They spin.  They scream.  They shhhh.  I am no accident...

I am the mirror of the wild, earthly mother...  Coming home to remind you of where you came from.  Finger firmly pointed.  To echo back to you your roots and reflect your lessons...  Begging you to see yourself...

Wake up, my child...  

I know you are tired and the light hurts your eyes...  But it's time to wake up.

You hear me?

I am the thorn in the mother's side...  Thrust in to warn.  A plastic chokehold.  A grenade of greed.   To take her breath away and blow her down.  Maybe now her children will understand her pain...

I am the tantrum of the single mother...  Existing in a watery swirl of overwhelm and survival.  Tired of carrying the lifeforce all alone.  Finally sacrificing in order to receive.  Letting go of her mighty  grip...  Falling to her trembling knees in pleading prayers...  And fierce faith.  

Deep breath in...

I am the grounded teacher mother ...  The one that means what she says.  The one the studentchild does not fully appreciate until the years pass and the impossible lessons are learned all alone.  Without counsel.  After they have begged for the answer...  After they understood why they could not have recess until their work was done...  Because easy never taught us nothing...

I am the raging mother...  With a knowing eye...  Offering crazed revenge on the cause of the pain my children now know...  Churning everything in my path.  Unpredictable.  Turning it all upside down until I find my senses... or the guilty party...  Because destruction pries the eyes open like no other...

I am the medicine mother.  Feathers tangled in my unbrushed hair... Dragging you into the force of loss that leads to service and sisterhood...  Ripping you up from the depleted soil that kept you stuck...  You do not belong in a garden of ignorance and fear.  Come back to my bosom, child...  Take my breath...  Go ahead...  I was built for this...

I am the prayers  of ALL of the mothers...  A harmonized scream for balance.  For peace.  For remembering.  For the LIGHT.  For shelter.  For nourishment.  For family.  For harm and hate to end.  

Are you awake, yet my child???  Because we must hurry...

I am the warrior mother...  With wild for armor, and muscles made of the moon...  Speaking in winds and waves.  Damming the destructive waters until the rigid stone surrenders into the necessary flow of TRUTH.  Powerful enough to move the heavy earth apart and douse the fires of the warming planet...  

Hurry, sweetie...  We haven't much time...

I am the drunken mother...  Slurring uncomfortable truths that hurt your feelings and make you lower your eyes...  It'll never happen again...  I'm sorry, children...   There, there...  Go watch some TV ...  Mama's got a headache...  

But don't go back to sleep.

I am the eye of the mother... The silent center that sees the past and knows the future, and allows the stillness,  and is able to witness only what is real.  Offering a moment to regroup and rise up to the end of the necessary storm...  Remembering the sun is promised to follow...  The light always a salve to the dark, and the opportunity to be NEW.

Good morning, my child...

I am the dancing mother...  Spinning between the moon and the waves in a sparkling dress of sand and seeds and splinters... Holding you close in my protection and prayers.  The lyrics of love and life move us freely into song and laughter and hope...  And we forget where we are...  Holding you up.  From my womb to my heart.  Deep in my arms.  Holding on for dear life.  Keeping you safe.  Knowing you are in danger...

You hear me?

freedom

Fourth of July, 2017.  The day is a little backwards, as is most of my life...  My kid is in Canada today for God's sake, as per every Fourth, but that's another blog.  I am not phased, just so grateful and quietly reflective.  Other than the noise of my work and kid, my life is quiet...  I began the day celebrating and serving, but now I'm working.  I sit in my "office..." the lobby of this little space, watching the sun go down and listening to the ugly, destinationless traffic and the cicadas and Jai Jagdeesh is belting Hallelujah on repeat.  Some days it's Motley Crue, but today it's heaven.  I just swept the sidewalk...  of the storefront that I created...  America...  

I live in a weird, starved, town where the beauty is mostly hidden and hung over and bears some gnarly scars to the flesh and the soul, and it makes my work confusing and urgent.  And freedom means something here...  It always has.  Way before the yoga.  Way before I learned about about Moksha, or became a helper, or a girl boss, or a parent, or understood personal freedoms, or pulled my head out of my ass, or had ever heard clearly the word privilege ...  The American flag flies year round here, and pride is felt and displayed and fought for even in our sleep.  Honor and loss are palpable and understood without words or decorations.  The "noise" is pardoned, as it is the sound of freedom, and as continuous and as familiar as a summer storm.  I've grown up here.  I've been interestingly  involved in many capacities with the military as a kid, human, bartender, America citizen, train wreck, check cashing joint manager, every endless other odd jobber, fourth grade teacher, parent, collaborator, counselor, head jville yogi...  So many yoga friends have moved in and out of my life, like every thee years or so... and the families, and the kids, and, of course, a lover or two...  I'm strangely proud of where I live.  Oddly grateful for every ounce of darkness here.  It makes the light that much more precious.  Even after my small town heart and mind have been blown open by exposure to other worlds and cultures and ideas with the gifts of travel and friends and strangers and big books who have shown me other ways to live and exist and understand.  I'm honored to work and serve this planet and this camouflaged community with so many who understand patriotism and pain and pride equally and in ways that other places in this world just cannot.  

When yoga came along, and I heard the word moksha, that was it for me.  I needed no other rules or further explanations.   When I found yoga, I was knee deep in the land of the free, but I was stuck.  Hardly able to move.  Words were robbed on that short, dark trip from my heart to my throat... and were never, ever heard.  My head never made it up.  Eyes couldn't see.  Teeth stayed clenched until my neck was frozen...  I know about surviving...  But the poses shook me up and broke me down and the breathing and stillness took me to knowings and scriptures, and when I studied the idea that you could be free in your heart and your mind, despite the bullshit stories that poison the body and thoughts, it brought me right back to my knees.  When I saw that the goal or result of yoga was to be free from suffering, to be free, TO BE FREE...  I bowed my head as my heart cracked open.  I was home.    

Freedom means so much to me.  In this town.  In this country.  I was able to wake up today.  I ate what I wanted.  I woke up healthy because of the freedom I have to seek and find wellness and give the middle finger to a broken system that kept me sick.  I spoke to family.  I hugged beautiful friends.  I returned and ignored emails.  I was free to go work exactly where I wanted, a business I built all by myself, from the dirt up, with my own shaking hands, wearing inappropriate clothes and freely speaking the about universal truths that are not so free to all...  I honored that freedom as I laid careful, humble hands on the people that are here in this yoga studio trying to desperately remember their own freedom and forget their suffering.  Words and prayers and wishes came freely from my lips in the name of service and unity, and I understood freedom in my bones.  I understood why it's fought for.  Why people die for it.  How it can scare the hell out of us.  How it's misconstrued.  How it dangerously divides us and joyously brings us together.   And as I listen to the fireworks while the sun goes down, my ears ring and my heart is full of freedom.  And it feels a lot like gratitude.  And it feels a lot like love.  And honor.  And pride.  And Red White & Blue.  And tattooed arms and titty bars.  And stars and stripes and shit.  And the guns and big trucks.  And far away friends.  And mamas and babies.  And their hair in the neatest, tightest bun I ever saw.  And promotions and homecomings.  And (battle) hymns that move us all.  And parades and memorials.  And long gone lovers.   And home.  I am free...

The banged up, bruised and beloved in me... honors, loves, and salutes the brave, bad ass, and beloved in you.  We are the same.  May all beings everywhere be happy and experience this precious gift of freedom.  May the actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and to that freedom for all.  

the blog about the blog

Let me introduce myself...  The blog.  Not me.  You already know me...  So I've been blogging in my mind for a reeeeaaalllyyy long time.  In fact, I'm pretty sure that all of my thoughts are in the form of unwritten blogs...  Post its and journals that litter my mind.  And for whatever reason, I felt like I had to write this before I could write those, so here I am.  There's just not enough time in a yoga class, and I'm way too lazy to write a book... well today, anyway...  And this makes me look so busy and important.  So here.

It's a blog.  On a yoga studio website.  In case you're not familiar...  I am this yoga studio.  A one woman show/circus.  Yep.  The whole thing.  It lives in my belly and is a full on expression of my scared, sweaty heart.  So the blog is one more responsibility that I have not been allowed to omit.  Put off, well of course...  But there is no escaping work.  Ever.  And there's never anyone else to do it.  So pardon my delay...  I was busy opening the doors, learning the lessons, and convincing y'all to stay...  It'll have very little to do with yoga.  I mean it will.  But if you're expecting a breakdown on crow pose or think that yoga belongs in the same sentence as pilates, you'll be very confused here.  I mean, it's all yoga.  But this is basically me rambling.  Spitting complaints and screaming invitations and birthing the memories and LESSONS that have burnt out the hallway from my heart to my throat...  

It might seem like it's about you.  Hell.  It might be.  I mean, in some way it's inspired by the people who criss cross in and out, and usually back in,  my life.  I have to meet the same people in different forms over and over to receive these gifts.  It's you.  It's me.  It may be the old you.  Or the new me.  It may burn.  It might light you up!!  It may feel like you wrote it yourself.  It's universal.  Size human.  Either way, it's FOR you.  For all you LOVERS and haters.  Stalkers.  Seekers.  Finders.  Students.  Teachers.  The LOST.   The broken.  Truth slingers.  Soul soldiers.   Ill.  Injured.  The temporarily out of order.  The overachievers.  The slackers.  Those that see light every fucking where they look, and those that can't seem to find their way outta the dark.  For anyone who has held me up or dragged me down.  I thank you and forgive you whether you receive it or not.  It's for you mothers and sisters and the sons and fathers who may need to heal here, too.  It's for my far away friends and confused lovers with the best of intentions, and those close enough to me that are too caught up to hear.  It's for you THOUSANDS of people who made it HERE, like  INTO the studio for a moment in real life but you had to go...  All of you who come back time and time again.  Anyone who has found an ounce of truth or peace on these bamboo floors...  Oh my God I love you all.  It's for anyone who is afraid of anything.  Or everything.  It's for anyone who needs help understanding.  It's for the addicts and the champions.  We are still ONE.  

What to expect...   Cussing.  Trails of thoughts.  Exclamatory statements of LOVE!!!  Duality.  Confusion.  JOY.  Disappointment.  Resources.  Love letters.  The occasional studio info.  Alliteration.  Why's.  Why NOTs.  Telling you repeatedly to go to yoga.  Blurbs.  Lists.  Unfinished items.  Explanations.  Continuations.  Verses.  Wishes.  Prayers.  Reminders.  Yoga.  Work.  Some stories I probably shouldn't tell.  Some I should have told a long time ago.  Some I will never tell again...  It'll all be unedited.  I mean, who the hell is gonna edit my stuff?  And like I would listen...

LOVE!! 

transitions

Transitions… 
Sometimes we beg for change…  Sometimes we resist it with all of our might…  But inevitably, it happens.  Despite honest prayer or muscled grip, change happens.  In yoga.  In life.  Even in our studio.  2016 has offered opportunities to be open to change through new classes, and, of course, the farewell to some loved instructors.  That is the nature of this town, and our space, and you have all been beautiful while welcoming what IS.  Yoga is an interesting practice that teaches us how to be present and accepting in the sometimes illusive NOW.  Rather than pressing against change, or avoiding it, we can observe it.  Look squarely at it.  Become aware of all of its qualities, and utilize what is beneficial to us, and compassionately leave what is not, even if that, too, is temporary.  Our bodies change with practice, and age, and awareness.  Our minds change with contemplation, and exposure, and openness.  Our practice will change.    Our needs will change.  Our teachers will change.  May we all continue to be open.  And allow change.  Embrace it. Use it as an invitation to question our selves.  Our reactions.  Our choices. May we revisit people and situations, classes and opportunities to learn and practice, with different perspectives, and without the old stories we may have previously carried with us, with or without knowing. 
Thank you all for showing up.  For rolling with us…  with all of our changes… We have seen some beautiful times and people…  Your presence, and your practices are bigger than you know. Honored to change with you ALL! 
Om Saha Nau-Avatu
Saha Nau Bhunaktu
Saha Viiryam Karavaavahai
Tejasvi Nau-Adhiitam-Astu Maa Vidvissaavahai
Om Shanti Shanti Shanti 
May we be protected together
May we be nourished together
May we work/practice with energy and vigor
May our studies be enlightening, and not give rise to hostility
Peace, Peace, Peace 
Much LOVE,

dani