"with a lighter heart"

Three of them showed up to class today, heavy with baby: her fourth, her first, her second. Outside the air is thick with humidity, the day dense with clouds. Inside the studio I just turned on the AC and the room is slow to cool. The heaviness is visible on each of their faces; each of them has traveled a hard week before making it in front of me to the mat, and they all express how happy they are to "just be here." I see the relief echo in their bodies. We move slowly, steadily, breathe deeply, over and over releasing what isn't serving us. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to teach a class so close to the trip, the thing that weighs heavy on my mind, but once again being in the teacher's seat is a welcome remedy. To be present to their concerns relieves me of my own. To listen to them allows me to forget myself. And as has so often been the case, the lesson I teach is the one I most need: that, in the end, you cannot prepare for every eventuality, you can only prepare yourself. For their final relaxation I rubbed the massage oil into my hands, releasing the fragrance of rose and geranium close to their nose, each in turn, and applied a gentle touch to their necks and forehead. I went home, and, later in the day, began packing with what I like to think is a lighter heart.


Linking up with Christina Rosalie's Just One Paragraph.

the start of something new

I know that I'm not the only one who feels that September marks the beginning of something new as much, if not more, as January does. Even for those of us who have long been out of school--and especially for those of us who tend towards unhealthy affections for all things stationery--September, with its old promise of new school supplies, new outfits, new teachers, new friends, new chances, is wildly enticing. I remember, in grade school one year, before the start of class, I spent hours in elaborate daydreams about the various personas I would affect once school started, one for every day of the week: romantic girl on Monday, tough chick on Tuesday, etc. Back then, I believed that, once September rolled around, I could even become a brand new person. That seductive thought isn't entirely gone, though now I'd settle for being just one new person for all the days of the week. I think that would be less confusing for my husband.

Or better yet: just be newly comfortable in the skin of this same-old person would be great. My friend Laura and I have been talking extensively this past week about the curative powers of clearing clutter: how it opens up space and possibilities. Over the past week, I've been clearing clutter off of my to-do list, taking care of tasks that have been nagging at me for months. Buying the domain name for this here blog last week felt like a huge step into new possibilities: declaring to myself and the world that I am serious about this space, that I am passionately committed to it. This past weekend, I've tackled a similar task: completely overhauling my yoga website, and switching it from Wordpress to Blogger--sorry Wordpress, I just have no love for your clunky interface. There was an immediate imperative to do so, since I am starting to teach two brand-new classes this week, about which I am super excited. I feel that giving my website a new look will open the door to greater and better things for my teaching. But even beyond my being happy with the site itself, I feel even happier about the mental space that's opened up now that I no longer have that task hanging over my head. What freedom!

I have also taken on the task of sorting my son's clothes, and moving them from the cubby in our en-suite bathroom which serves as a changing table, to the chest of drawers in his bedroom. At 19 months he had bunches of clothes that no longer fit, and bunches more that had been given to us and needed to be sorted, washed, put away. I cannot tell you the feeling of glee and accomplishment I got from having this done. More than once I have gone into his room, opened each of the drawers in turn, gazed at the neatly folded stacks of clothes, and sighed a happy sigh. 

And while my son is the one going back to school--two days a week at a local Mother's Day Out program--with a new classroom and new teachers and friends, I'm also stepping into a new space in terms of my work. My word of the year is expand, and I feel like I'm only now coming into the fullness of its possibilities. After a slightly difficult summer, and a restorative time away, I am so thrilled to be coming home, after dropping my son off at school, and turn to my work: this writing, my teaching, both of which I have great, exciting ideas for. I've ordered new Moleskine notebooks, stocked up on my favorite Muji pens on my recent layover at JFK airport. I'm clearing space in my home--my own closet is next!--and refreshed my online spaces. Any day now the oppressive Texas heat will drop and the feel of our days will match the freshness I can feel inside my heart. September, how I love you.

I'd love to hear from you on this. What new spaces are you creating and stepping into this month? Where are you looking for the fresh and new in your days? What is creating that expansive feeling in your heart? What supplies or treats are you celebrating the unofficial New Year with? Perhaps a bouquet of freshly-sharpened pencils? Leave a note in the comments!

:: A few housekeeping notes: I have updated the link love in the sidebar, and created a separate page to hold all of those lovely links. I've also recently figured out why the pictures I've been posting have been all fuzzy-looking. Here's to looking a little sharper. yes? ::