I was gone for the weekend when our closest neighbors moved out of their home. What was once a hub of near constant activity in daylight hours was now a tomb. Maybe in the middle of the night…who knows, Ravi didn’t even notice they were gone until I pointed it out. But how could you not notice their absence? It seemed they were always looking in our bedroom window early in the morning, ostensibly to check out the weather, but I wondered if they were spying on us from the other side of the glass. Sometimes I could swear they were practicing yoga as they clung upside down and naked against our tree, opposing limbs stretching to the fullest. Frankly, it just wasn’t the Scarsdale Way. Could I have reported them? Well, possibly, but who wants their name in the Police Blotter? And wasn’t this squirrelly behavior appropriate because they were squirrels?
Yes, these neighbors were of the bushy tail, light grey fur variety, who happened to live in our tree (or maybe we were the ones who happened to live in their house-they had been here longer). Their sudden absence feels disconcerting. Where are they? Why did they go? Do they know something about the tree’s life expectancy that I don’t, or is the food simply better on the other side of town where a kindly neighbor feeds the squirrels acorns she harvested in the fall? I just don’t know. One day they were here, and the next, gone.
Life gives us changes and rarely gives us the reason why. And if you sit with this for a moment it can get scary. Change comes whether you want it or not. Peaka’-Frickin-Boo. And really the only control we have in this game is our attitude toward this inevitability. No matter what we do, or who we are, change will come for all of us.
I feel as if I am living this new tv show called “The Leftovers” which kind of sounds like an answer to the Jeprody question, “What’s for dinner?” but somehow is supposed to be about The Rapture, which is kind of what we are experiencing here in Westchester. But instead of only 5% of the population whisked away to Heaven, it is 50% transported to Long Island, which is about as close to Heaven as one can get, until folks start getting sloppy at Gurney’s Inn.
“Nobody is here, nobody to call,” and I understand what my son is moaning about. Nobody is here. The roads are empty. The only thing moving are the sprinklers. After the franticness of the school year, it’s time to take a big exhale and recalibrate…where do we go now?
Well, one place you could go is Yoga Station! We are operating at less than maximum capacity here and enjoying giving individualized attention to the brave and the beautiful who grace our studio. Although taking a vacation is the best thing (and we will be closing the studio the last week of July to take some R&R in the hinterland of Ontario), taking a yoga class is a mini vacation, leaving you feeling relaxed and renewed. Is there a better way to celebrate summer than taking a sweaty Vinyasa class and diving into some icy cold air conditioning? Delicious!
It’s the end of the school year! Hurrah! We are so thrilled to be done with yet another year of school – no more essays, exams and projects, no more paper bag lunches, early morning band rehearsal, late night studying. It’s all over…so why do I miss it so much?
Isn’t that just the eternal joke? Wherever we are is painful and uncomfortable, and once we are done with this moment life will be so much better. The grass is so much greener and organic over there! But once over there, we mourn for what we had over here. When will we make peace with this ephemeral world? Maybe with the help of a consistent yoga practice.
This is what I love about about a vinyasa practice – practicing presence with every breath in and every breath out. That after one inhale or five full breaths or ten full breaths or whatever finite amount of time this too shall pass. We will no longer be feeling the deep discomfort of awkward pose and we instead will have moved on to crow pose and all the mind chatter that starts up again every time we enter a new asana, “I love this pose!” “I hate this pose!” “This reminds me of a bird I saw today!” All that chatter which attempts to pull us away, to rob us from this moment, this precious moment. And no, this moment will not last forever, for once the last breath is exhaled, we will be moving on to the next pose, and the one after that, and the one after that. So instead of mourning what we have lost, we can celebrate what we are feeling now, discomfort or elation, it’s all the same, just breathing deeply into wherever you are. This ephemeral moment is yours to enjoy. So be present. Breathe deep.
Welcome to Yoga Station’s first blog! Woohoo! More fun than Disney Land with two teenagers!
My name is Char Daigle, and I’m the owner and head teacher at Yoga Station our beloved local studio where we take our yoga, if not ourselves, very seriously. We offer yoga for everyone from babies to seniors, including prenatal and children’s yoga, in a quirky, loving judgement-free atmosphere. We practice Hatha and Vinyasa Yoga, with an emphasis on the breath and alignment. It may sound like Hallmark (or, God-forbid, Lululemon-ish), but practicing yoga will make you happier-body, mind and spirit. And you don’t have to buy the right clothes, the right mat, the right mat spray. Just bring your breath, and you’ll be juuuust fine.
Yoga Station’s Blog, brought to you steps from the Hartsdale Train Station in Westchester NY, is where we will attempt to explore, play and ruminate on all things yoga. Helping to build community, one breath at a time, and now one post at a time!