How would you define love?

A friend of mine recently how asked me how I would define love; what it means to me to say or hear the words, “I love you”.   

It caused me long pause for thought.  These are the kinds of questions that I spend a lot of time thinking about.  Because the question wasn’t just about love, it was about human relationships, and how we express ourselves within them; how we connect to one-another.  These are questions with no easy or static answers.  The idea of love is both as individual as a birthmark, and as universal as the air we breathe.

I am still exploring what love means to me, especially within the context of relationship – be it romantic or not.  I am fascinated by human beings, and human relationships in particular ... and although I’m still formulating my exact thoughts around it (and may be for the rest of my lifetime) I recognize that I do have some beliefs that are quite clear and strong.  One of those is a firm belief that as human beings, we are designed to love, and designed to be in relationship.   in fact, whether we understand it or not, we ARE in relationship, all the time – with ourselves, each other, and with the world around us, and with the divine. (however we interpret that)

I believe that, fundamentally, what ails us in this society comes back to lack of authentic, present, loving, connection. It is our chronic inability to be full present and connected in those relationships with ourselves, each other, and all that is around us.

I also believe that however one defines love - it's never love itself that causes pain.  It is fear, misunderstanding, and our stories that cause the hurts.  I believe that love itself is absolute and transcends all the 'stuff' of ego and human suffering.  

I don't, however, believe that the statement, "love conquers all" is necessarily accurate - because while love may transcend all - we humans get in the way all the time.  We let fear, ego, stories, and whatever else we can come up with, get between us and that love. The love itself is always there, around us, and available.... we need only the courage to tap in to it, to allow it, to be fully present with it.  

Coming back to the original question – how I define ‘love’.... it’s a working definition (at best), but I think that love is like water; It is both what we are made of and what we are surrounded by.... and it is essential for our survival.

Which doesn't mean that it always looks the way we want it to. Once we're in the realm of relationship with another person we're no longer dealing just with 'love'.  We're dealing with values, beliefs, stories, hopes, fears, boundaries, fantasies, and egos – ours and theirs.  And all of those things are both what bring us suffering, and what give us opportunities to grow, to learn, and to fully experience love when we do open to it. 

It is in the very human struggles, of egos and stories, of fears and hopes and dreams, that we are connected to each other.  It is in our places of darkness, as much as in light, that we find connection, that we need each other.  We are conceived in relationship; our identities are formed in relationship – at our core, we are human in relationship.  Where we hold ourselves back from relationship, we hold ourselves back from our full humanity; we deny ourselves the fullest opportunity to grow and actualize.  To enter into intimate, loving, relationship is the single most courageous thing we can do as human beings.

Reflections on becoming a yoga teacher....

What is the image of a heart cracking open?  Of a body being reclaimed?  Of a soul coming into the light?  Is it like a closed lotus flower, coming into bloom?  Or a crevice in the earth, widening.... revealing the dark soil and rocks and heat of her very centre?

What is the sound of a heart, yearning to open, to surrender, to deepen? Of a body, finding its true expression and movement? Is it a keening wail?  A low sigh?  Is it a bird song high in the trees?  Is it the sound of the wind in the trees, breathing power into the world?

What is taste of finding synchronicity?  Of connection?  Of the meeting of minds and bodies and hearts?  Is it sweet like a mango?  Or rich, like dark chocolate?  Or is it full bodied and complex, like good red wine?

What is the smell of unfurling?  Of the unwinding of a lifetime of trauma knotted through the nervous system, embedded in the flesh?  Of the peeling away of layers of shadow and illusion?  Is it like an onion?  Astringent and strong?  Or is it the smell of compost or fetid soil?  Or is it the smell of fresh spring coming through the wide open windows as the house is swept clean?

What is the feel of coming home?  Of reconnecting to a deeper truth?  To the core of my being?  Is it soft, like a down pillow?  Scratchy and yet comforting like a wool blanket?  Or is it spacious and hot and wild like a wind-storm under the hot sun of summer?

How do I put into words this journey? How do I even describe when and where it started?  Do I arbitrarily pick the first weekend of classes?  Or do I include the application process?  Or the thought process?  Or the knowing in my body, that has been with me for 4 years, that I would do this when the time was right?

What do I focus on to describe how I’ve experienced this?  The postures? The anatomy?  The teaching? The people?  And where does yoga teacher training end and the rest of my interconnected, open-system, bio-feedback loop of a life begin?  It’s a tapestry .... pulling one thread tugs them all.

This program, this experience, has opened up a world of possibilities – and shined a light on so much of what was already within me.  It has been a year of deep inner exploration, even as it has been a year of learning new skills .... Verb, Body Part, Direction. 

I feel both stronger, and softer.  I have met my edges, over and over.  I have felt into my vulnerability, and fallen in love with my teachers and my cohort.  I have learned to be present with my own experience – if only for moments at a time when it was most painful .... even as I learned that my primary coping strategy is to escape.  But I kept coming back.  And I keep coming back.

I have learned to move my body differently, hold space differently, breathe differently, and feel my way through differently.  I have learned to listen to my heart and my body in ways I never thought I would.  I have found meditation (finally) that feels resonant, and a path that I can see walking.  I have found my direction, that a year ago was so elusive.

I have rediscovered gratitude and possibility, having weathered my way through a dark night of the soul on the journey.  And the journey, of course, isn’t over ....it simply shifts and evolves into a new chapter. 

Solstice to Solstice - a journey of many transitions

It's been almost exactly a year since I posted a blog.  I'm tempted to wonder where that year went.... but as I pause and reflect, the answers are enough to fill many posts.  It has been a year of inward journey.  After 2 years of exploring the world .... Guatemala, India, Nepal ... I have spent the last one exploring my inner world, growing myself, building fertile soil for my next journey.

There is something powerful about the solstice to mark times of transition.  I left for Guatemala on Winter Solstice, 2009.  I returned to British Columbia exactly six months later, on Summer Solstice.   It is two summer solstices later, and I am again called to reflect on the transitions and what is unfolding before me.

This past year has been one of profound paradox for me.  Developing myself as a professional consultant while simultaneously developing myself as a somatically based yoga teacher.  Playing dressup in  'professional' heels and navigating corporate politics through the week; donning yoga pants, with my raw-vegan potluck contribution to the world of deep emotional connection on the weekends.  And through the process finding my voice of authenticity in both.  Finding the place where I can bring heart and connection into the corporate world, and where I can bring my professional skills into the powerful realm of yoga and connection.

As I move forward this year, I know that my work life will continue to shift into greater alignment - and with each step forward, I am able to see the incredible value of each step I've taken, perhaps most especially the difficult ones.  I am grateful for all the places where I have bumped against the questions of balance, alignment, integrity, and purpose.  Those questions have enabled me to be more present in those moments, and to grow from them.... and to make choices with ever greater clarity.

This week I got to play with another level of balance, as I brought my 'professional' skills into a community I care deeply about, and helped them move forward through an important piece of work - that for them is all about connection.  I see what is possible when I bring all of me together in service work, and I am excited about what is possible.

I don't know yet exactly what this year will look like, but I know it will be yet another layer of balance - of the inner and the outer.  Of bringing my voice to the work that I do, and sharing it.  You can count on more to come.

Integrating India

I have been home in Canada for about 2 months, and have been asked many times by many people about my time in India.  It is never an easy question to answer, and I am aware that so many of my experiences, thoughts, impressions have gone unrecorded on this journey.  I am not sure if it was just because I was (and still am) too busy trying to keep up, or if it was/is because I just feel confounded trying to articulate the experiences.

India was, for me, an experience of constant paradox.  By the time I left, I finally felt equipped to really live joyfully there....AND I was SO ready to come home.  I couldn't wait to get on the plane.  There are things about India that I miss, and things that I don't.  There are people that I came to care about deeply - and I miss them for sure.  But I'm not in any hurry to go back, and I know that I would never choose again the experience that I had there.

It's so interesting to see the paradox of my experience mirrored in the faces of those who ask me to tell them about it....Sometimes I get the reflection, "Sounds like you really enjoyed that".....sometimes I hear, "sounds like that was a brutal experience".  Yes....and yes.

My friend Amanda had her own experience there - and it has left some pretty significant, albeit colorful, scars for her.  I know that it has left some for me, and also left me with some new wisdom, skills, and confidence.  She wondered in her blog post if I was also afraid to talk about my experience - it hit a chord with me, although I'm still trying to unravel it.  I haven't yet sorted through my pictures, and I feel many posts behind in terms of sharing my stories - and although I wouldn't have called it fear.... there is no question I am in resistance about it.

I think that part of it is my need to present a balanced picture, and to ensure that I don't cause anyone to 'lose face' (including Mother India herself).  ....Or perhaps it's just my own face I am protecting.

My journey to India was a gift, albeit a challenging one; a profound, transformative, learning journey..... and I am still unpacking it.  My intention is to post some retrospectives on some of my experiences....but we'll see how that unfolds.  For now, I am back home and trying to figure out what life on the ground here looks like....and how to take the best of all the parts of the world I've been in, and combine them with all the best parts of me to create the next chapter in my journey.

India's gender divide...

The gender divide is still alive and well in India - sometimes it is thought-provoking, sometimes amusing, sometimes frustrating, and sometimes reassuring. (chivalry can be lovely)  Whatever the impact ... to say it isn't there would to overlook an important thread in the fabric of society here.  Unquestionably, it's changing... the thread is thinner than it was, a little frayed at the edges, but it's still surprisingly strong.

Yesterday, at the 'conclave' I attended on Talent Management for HR Leaders, the opening speaker - the head of a (prestigious?) management school offered some of his experience and perspective on engaging the workplace.  Globally, he shared with us, women earn 2/3 of what men do.  (Sad, but true!).  For organizations, he continued, that means that if it costs a dollar to hire a man for a job and a given level of productivity, it only costs them 66 cents to hire a women for the same thing.  So, he concluded, in times of fiscal restraint, recession, or just anytime, you should hire more women, it's a fiscally responsible thing to do.  He continued, explaining that meetings were also a great example - women only required a few cups of tea and a single packet of cookies....as they don't eat much.  So, women are really affordable to employ.  He boasted proudly of the many women professors he has working for him.  (at 2/3 what he pays the male professors??)

I actually had to use my hand to bring my chin back up and close my mouth - because I could feel my jaw just flapping.  It is a testament to the Indian capacity for grace, dignity, and face saving that the largely femail population of the room did not show any noticeable reaction.  At first I thought maybe his comment wasn't considered as outrageous by others, but I checked with my colleagues afterward, and they reassured me that his comments were as unacceptable in India as they would be in Canada.  I guess the difference is that in Canada, I can't imagine any man still thinking such comments were ok.  (they might THINK the ideas - but they would know that they couldn't say them aloud.)

It led to an interesting conversation with my female colleague here about gender in India.  She pointed out that while there is still that clear lack of representation numbers wise in the corporate arena, that there are also many women CEOs - some who have been leading their companies for over 25 years, not to mention that the president of India is a woman.  She also explained that really, women are revered in India - because of the spiritual history / nature of the society.  Wisdom, knowledge, wealth, change, rebirth - all these are governed by Goddesses - and revered.  Mothers are often the final word in their families - even if that word is delivered through father.  Just think Kali or Durga as the voice of mother: "I brought you into this world, I can take you back out!"

And that is part of the paradox that is Mother India - because what many of us westerners would call chauvinism, many in this culture might refer to as reverence and respect.  A woman's place may be in the home - but that is not because she is lesser than, but rather because that is where she rules.  I'm not saying I agree with the perspective ....just that it is one.  And as horrified by the idea as many western women might be, there remain many who yearn to to stay home with their children, and just don't see it as a viable option in current western society.

In yet another gender divide experience .... The day before the conclave, my American friend and I went for pedicures. As the nice men, all in matching black with spiffy dress shoes, got our pedicure tubs ready, we looked around and realized that the salon was entirely staffed by men - with the exception of the receptionist, and one young woman doing facial waxing.  This is such an interesting phenomenon on SO MANY levels. 

Because another feature of the gender divide in India is the no-touch between the genders phenomenon. Men here are physically quite affectionate with each other - much the way women are in the Western world.  It's not a sign of homosexuality; as I believe that is quite unacceptable here - at least publicly - indeed, any display of sexuality is quite unacceptable here.  So men hold hands with each other, but not with women - even married couples refrain from any public displays of affection. Like many other things - some of this is changing amongst the younger generations....but PDAs are just not part of Indian culture.  Men generally just do not touch women in public (they will walk widely around to avoid it).

It also touches on another feature of the great gender divide.  Many of the 'menial' or service jobs that typically see female workers in the West, are done by male workers here, because women simply don't have the same access to the job market.  There is a socio-class divide here too...because in upper classes young women now go to university and generally function quite equally in society. But in lower classes, where young people leave their villages to go work in the city for someone - it's the boys that go. 

My friend here has been quite troubled by her 'maid' - a 14 year old boy that doesn't go to school, because he looks after the house.   Where I stay, it is also young men that take care of the house - and it doesn't matter how old they get, they are forever 'boys'.  At my last guest house one of the 'boys' was in his 20's and had been married for a year (with his wife living at home with her parents) and the other was over 40 with three kids and a wife - all home in their village, hours away, while he slept on the floor in this guest house in Delhi, taking care of the family and guests.  (And the generally accepted assumption is that these 'boys' are grateful for the opportunity to serve.)

So - back to the salon.  I had poked my head into another salon at some point that was fully staffed by women, and yet this one was all men.  What I've come to understand is that this is a 'higher end' salon - and therefor it is staffed by men.  I'm not sure how they reconcile that with the men shall not touch women piece, but Amanda and I concluded that the men there had chosen the work because it is the one way they CAN get some contact with women outside their family.  Who knows what the real story is?

Mother India, above all, forces me to examine my assumptions about what I believe, about what is right, what is wrong.....how society 'works', and to acknowledge how western-culture-centric my world view is, and how easy it is to think that view is 'right' - just because it is familiar and comfortable.  So, while I often experience the gender divide here as uncomfortable, or even insulting... sometimes it is that very divide that makes me feel safer (I love the women-only car on the Metro), and respected.  (I love having doors opened, and things carried for me when they're heavy...)

For the record, the pedicures were awesome, the foot and calf massages divine, and we left happy, pampered, ladies.... with another story to tell in our respective blogs.. 

Pilgrimage to the sea - Kerala part 2

From our most excellent lunch in Trivandrum, we headed South into the state of Tamil Nadu - to experience the town of Kanyakumari, the southern-most tip of India, and the place where the three seas meet: The Bay of Bengal, the Arabian Sea, and the Indian Ocean.  Apparently you can actually see where they meet - the waters are slightly different colours.  I didn't find this out until afterward, so I neglected to look for it, but I could unquestionably feel the convergence.  The air in the city is charged, as if there is a storm coming in off the water. It's incredible.  It's also the one place in India where you can watch the sun rise and set from the same basic vantage point.

The late departure of our train meant that we arrived in the dark, but we wandered through the village anyway, and found a beautiful place in front of the temple to look out at the water.  I am continuously awed by the power of water - especially the ocean, and the energy there was immense.  I think I could have quite happily spent the night sleeping (or just being) on the beach.  I am certain that I could have spent a week or more there and never gotten tired of being in that energy.

We missed the sunset but we set our alarms and got up for the sunrise the next morning.  As most of you know, that's a real sign of devotion for me to get up that early (and two days in a row, with jet lag!)  We walked down to the beach and down the very long pike of huge rocks, and planted ourselves near the tip to watch the sun come up.  When we looked back toward shore we could see the hundreds of people that had come down to various places along the shore, in front of the temple . . . anywhere they could get a water-front view, to watch the sun rise.  Just by coming, and watching the sunrise, we had joined a sacred ritual of pilgrimage. 

It's interesting to me to reflect on that experience and recognize it as pilgrimage - because certainly that wasn't the conscious intent that either of us had going in.  I can't say what my friend's experience was, but I know that the word fits for me.  I have always been drawn to the water, and I consistently return to it for healing, for reflection, for rejuvenation.  After my first difficult month in India, and my race home for the holidays, I recognize that I was called to this powerful convergence of great waters to connect back into source before re-embarking on my journey, both personal and professional, in India for the coming months. 


We continued that pilgrimage from the pike, along the shore, over to the temple . . . where we followed a 'guide' through, offering prayers, getting anointed with oils and ashes, and then ultimately down to the beach behind the temple where we joined the many bathers - dipping themselves in the sacred ocean.  Fully clothed, of course, because we were female.  Had we been men, we could have gone in our underwear - but as women, everything must stay covered . . . . so we did.  I am eternally grateful to Sabrina who led the way, as we were both watching the bathers with envy and it was she that announced that she could no longer just watch, she had to go in.  I was wearing completely impractical clothes for the experience and decided to just dip my toes in ... but the call of the water was stronger than the hold of practicality.  The day was hot, and it was an experience not to be missed. 

Afterward we both dripped our way back to the hotel for breakfast and put our clothes in a bag for our train ride North. 

PS: my pants took 2 days to dry....and it was totally worth it!

Heading South

When I returned to India in January, the first thing in my loosely held plan was a trip to Kerala with an old school friend, who happened to be in India for a month.  Two girls, headed for the beach . . . sort of.  Being more of the intellectual hippy persuasion than the wide-eyed, bring-on-the-party, beach bunny persuasion, we decided on Kerala over Goa, because although both have beautiful beaches, Kerala has far more to see and remains somewhat less commercialized. Part of the appeal of Kerala, in fact, was its famous backwaters, lovely rides down old canal-like waterways, and witnessing the ancient ritual dancing that is purported to be seen everywhere. (I do sometimes wonder who writes the travel guides - as the gap between reality and the books is often . . . .well . . . significant). 

Our trip started with the plane ride from Delhi - we discovered mid-flight that we had a brief stop in Kochi, and as we hadn't really started planning the contents of our trip until we were in the air . . . we decided to try and get off the plane there instead of going through to Trivandrum - that would enable us to essentially start at the top of Kerala, and work our way south.  Unfortunately, despite all evidence that India is a by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of place . . . . it turns out this airline wasn't; they wouldn't let us off the plane before our ticketed destination.  And we did try . . . So we continued on to Trivandrum where we emerged into the heat and humidity of Southern India. ( with our luggage intact - I wonder, if they had let us out in Kochi - would our luggage would have joined us or would it have traveled on to Trivandrum and waited for us there?)

Once in the airport, we spent about half an hour at the tourist booth getting information on where we were, where to go, what to do.  We almost missed collecting our baggage we took so long with the tourist booth guy.  So after collecting our luggage and a scary trip to the bathroom, we headed out into the muggy air and I had my first chance to witness my travel partner in action: negotiating with the tuk tuk driver.  Damn, she's good.  I owe much of my current ease negotiating transportation in India to that week with her.  We headed for the train station to begin our adventure  .. . . which, that afternoon, entailed an hour long search (with two very heavy packs) for lunch.  Turns out our driver had dropped us at the back of the train station, not that we realized that until we had walked in circles for almost an hour - and then had to walk the long way around, up hill and over the tracks, to the front of the station to find our place for lunch.  I think I might have whined most of the way about the weight of my pack.  I had forgotten how heavy those things are when you're out of practice (and out of shape again??? shhhhh).

Lunch, however, turned out to be (almost) worth it.  We had traditional South India tali: 4 curries, rice and papad, along with the usual chutneys.  What made it amazing was the presentation.  The tables are set with banana leaves as people sit down, and there are several guys that walk around carrying the various components of the meal.  One guy walks around with a huge bowl of rice, and drops a big pile on your banana leaf as he comes by; another walks around with the super cool server thing that has 4 deep tiffins, each with a different curry, and he heaps some of each of them on your banana leaf.  Another guy walks around offering papads.  Essentially, it's all you can eat, but the buffet comes to you.

Perhaps because we were white tourists, they also included some cutlery on our table - no one else used them . . . and mostly I didn't either.  The South Indian way is to eat with your fingers - right hand only, of course.  Surprisingly, it takes some practice, having been admonished for so many years not to play with our food!  But it is an art form - to scoop up rice and dal or curry into a form that the fingers will pick up and carry to the mouth.  It was fun and satisfying; and really, really, good. 

Once we were stuffed to the gills, we were pretty much pushed out of our spot at the table so that it could seat the next in line.  I've noticed this is pretty typical of South Indian restaurants - even in Delhi.  They are busy, high turnover, and there is no dawdling over the end of your meal . . . and the food is always amazing.

After lunch we waddled back to the train station where we parked ourselves, first for a cup of tea, and then on the platform to wait for our train.  And wait. and wait . . . and wait.  Ahhh, India, how she likes to remind me that plans are such folly.  Our 'plan' was to head down to watch the sun set in Kunyakumari.  Of course, somewhere on a schedule, it also said that the train's plan was to be on time.  Neither plan unfolded quite like that.