Horse Yoga - The Return

Yes, much time has passed, as I detoured into the world of teaching at an alternative charter high school for kids at-risk of graduating. I taught an animal science class where we brought horses on to our very urban school and practiced measuring along with just being with horses. We had lessons around being with horses, where field trip was going out to the barn to learn from Sport and Junior. We were in the midst of developing an exciting hands-on horse science program when I got run over by a car, and while I was down, along came Covid-19. School priorities shifted. So did I.

I re-connected with Judith and the horses of Dancing Horse Farm. Camilla didn’t even ask where I had been, she nuzzled me as she always had, and indicated it was time to do. 

We have picked up and simply begun again. 

Begin at the beginning. 

Communal beyond time and space

Camp Lipizzan is a writer's camp. Writers and their friends come out to the desert to hang with plants and critters wild and tame (mostly) and polish up their writing with the assistance of their hostess, author and keeper of the Dancing Desert Horses, Judith Tarr.

In true camp fashion, it's not just about the main activity of writing. There are, after all, horses to feed, sunrises and sunsets to soak in, strolls in the desert, the chance to take a balancing riding lesson with my friend Stacey Kollman, and the opportunity to yoga play with the herd.

I am blessed to be the one who gets to integrate the language of the herd with our human language, the yoga teacher. Sure, we practice our tadasana (mountain pose), we practice our chakra power walk, we practice our breathing, and being with our breath as we are with the herd. The horses expect nothing less from me, and sometimes require a little more. It all depends on who is showing up, and how.

Yesterday's class was a little bit different. (If I am honest, I would say that about each and every time we meet with the horses in this way).  Judith had a fresh injury, clearly painful, but Judith is one in whom the warrior blood runs ancient and deep. So, although she was more than prepared to stuff the pain and carry on, as her yoga teacher, I wanted her to consider a different way for the day. It was Ro, her young dog, who suggested the modification; a place to rest, grounding deeply, his leash under her foot to support his own practice of self-management around horse energy, and outside the fenced paddock area where we do our practice.

We circled up, outside the paddock, Khephera on the other side of the boundary presenting his bum for scratching (a sure sign that Summer Is Coming). Most of the horses circled in. Even Little Zeus, who typically opts out, contributed his energy. The one who was keeping his energy under the radar was the Pooka, the stallion. Now that was different.

We enter. The horses can be almost devilishly entrancing, but I round up the humans anyway, remind them of the 3 Rules: Breathe, Eyes Open, Don't Lock Your Knees.  We ground, we walk, we connect deeply into our sacrum, our sacred bone heart, and we feel our feet. You might be surprised at how tightly we contain the prana, the energy, of our feet. And when we are around horses milling around, we can have a tendency to draw that energy more inward, (because, yes, it does hurt mightily should that foot get stepped on).

I look back to Judith and Ro. They are deeply connected to all of our actions, observing keenly, the energy of, dare I call it love? palpable, pulsing. Truly, I did not have to look, because I could feel it. The Pooka is still maintaining his lower energetic profile, and I realize then that it isn't less or hidden at all, he has drawn to that place of deep subtlety, where a loud stallion voice would interfere, would break the spell.

I could go on, and on, and on. I'll stop here for now. Words, even at Camp Lipizzan, where words are the very coin of the realm, words can only convey what words can convey.  But those words continue to journey into those deep and subtle places, find nourishment in community with one another, reveal themselves later through story, song, and poem.

Om shanti

New normal: diabetes, yoga, and me (the yoga teacher)

It's been a little over a week since I was sitting in the Urgent Care office for a follow-up to what was at first thought to be two different infections and the doctor told me he suspected I had Type II Diabetes.

"What the fuck?!?!"

But I'm a yoga teacher.

So? Maybe my moderately active exercise and mostly reasonable diet held off the decline in the intricacies of my body's internal insulin management for longer than what otherwise be imagined.  Maybe.

I can tell you that I know that my practice of yoga and yoga teaching literally saved my life when I faced some serious health challenges 20 years ago (giant fibroids and chronic back pain and, and, and).

But I did not see this coming.

I was flooded with feelings. I was pissed. I was sad. I was probably in a bit of shock. I felt a sense of betrayal in myself, by myself. I felt a sense of shame; if only I had followed my own advice to tweak my diet, be more regular in my meals.  And as my analytical mind kicked into gear, this young doctor said, "Stop. You didn't do anything wrong. I look at you and see a healthy and fit 62 year old. Sometimes things happen. And, you may have some grief to deal with. And here is what we need to do to stabilize you…"

That old adage, hindsight is 20-20, has some merit. I WAS receiving information from my body over the last few months (prior to that I'd felt GREAT), but was not interpreting it correctly. As once-was-statistician - my assumptions were incorrect.

I had been experiencing drowsiness at unexpected times, and I started to note (before the diagnosis) that they were cyclical in nature. I told myself that I needed to get my meals to be more regular, a challenge in the yoga teacher world of erratic personal schedules. I was having brain-fog moments, sometimes a difficulty in concentrating. I studied harder. Signs were there.

Then, in mid-February,  I got hit with a 24-hour flu bug, that seemed to keep returning, knocking me lower each time, until I went into a kind of fugue state, not eating (nothing at all) for 5 days, yet still getting myself to my teaching commitments. Finally, I went to Urgent Care, got on antibiotics (some pneumonia was detected in one lung). I was a compliant patient, and after the course of treatment was complete and I'd begun replenishing my gut with probiotics, wondered that I wasn't at 100%, felt maybe at 80% at best. I went back to Urgent Care, requested the same doctor.

Hello to the unexpected. Looking back, I understand now that my glucose levels were rising, rising, rising, and then into an acute situation, triggered by a flu bug.  Thank you, little virus. Without your catalyst, those levels might have just kept on rising, I wouldn't have taken the action I did, and who knows?

I am intrigued that I had been setting up the vinyasa karma sequencing for asana that I am conservative in teaching (halaasana, gomukhaasana) that address the pancreas. I had some cyclical food cravings, from salads with certain ingredients (I'm not really a salad fan), to foods from my childhood (grilled cheese on white bread with american cheese).   Signs were there.

So.

Things have changed, and I adjust to my new normal.  Sharing my journey with diabetes with my yoga students (but mindfully, not obsessively) is part of that.   And I feel good.

Om. Shanti shanti shantih:
Namaste.

Being with Cats, an Ellie update

To fully grasp what is happening in this picture, take a look at this older update of once-chased-cats, a.k.a, Ellie.

http://dhyogadog.blogspot.com/2010/01/curbing-cat-chasing-update.html.




A quick summary of what worked for us:

• Manage encounters. 
• Desensitize the dog to the presence of the cats through positive reinforcement behavioral adjustment methods. 

We, (not the royal we, but Ellie and myself) used Clicker Training, because Ellie liked the Clicker game.  She's not a very highly food-motivated dog, but she does love a good game with consistent rules and the click with reward fills that bill nicely.

It helps if the cats understand the game and will get in on it. I had trained a few little tricks for both of our cats just to see if I could do it. They enjoyed the game enough to come out for the clicker whenever I trained Ellie with the clicker, so that provided many opportunities for reinforcing the behavior that I wanted.

The initial behavior I wanted from Ellie when a cat was around was 'look away'.  Better yet, 'look at me'. But Ellie was so new to us, that I took the 'look away' first, and then it became 'look at me'.

As Ellie and I continued our practices together, and she went to dog school and other social outlets, it became clear that 'look' or 'watch' is really what she likes to do. It's as if the world is an infinite screen TV with all Ellie fun, all the time. She loves to watch, and she especially loves to watch movement. The dog behavior model that describes this is the 'drive' model, and this training model is often used with German Shepherd Dogs.

Funny Miss Ellie, though, isn't so interested in following through with a finish to the chase. Watching can sometimes be good enough. So part of my job is to help her have plenty of 'watch time'.

And so we come to Today. Socks passed on a few years ago, and today Kafka peacefully continues her transition journey from this life, with Ellie gently watching over her.

Invitation to a Yin experience

If I was to say
STOP!
That would just be
more of the same

What if
instead
I was to invite you
to join me
crawling mindfully
flowing in slow sprawl

receiving time
receiving your own wisdom
receiving your own self
some time to just receive

receive your sweet dark center
crawling in the light

This one is for you

This one is for you
beautiful one
you know who you are

you are not this affliction
this harsh teaching
that reaches deep into your bones

at the root of this
is your own wisdom
that sharp shard of clarity
honed by shadow

your center holds
within the mist
beyond the veil
created in creating

how your fire burns
now slow glowing embers
flames flicker into the dance
a conflagration of consciousness
burning on the shore

the ocean that is your heart
makes waves
now turbulent
now dashing
clawing at the edge of solid spaces
to then lap gently in communion

speak freely with your wise self
tell her all your secrets
you know she knows them anyway

see your light
illumined
soft as the dandelion seed in flight
sharp as the thorn of the desert dwellers

you are not this affliction

know you are
this play of light and night
a symphony of silent sound
a resonance
a spaciousness

you know who you are
beautiful one
this one is for you

@jenny kendall, 2013

Yoga Moment: Fierce Peace

when fear bangs on the door to your heart
sigh it out
make room
     for breath
          for ease
for the ferocity of peace

stand as a mountain
root deep as the tree
sigh it out
make room

Yoga Moment: Relationship to Earth

Today is a good day to explore
starting with your feet
and the way they connect
to Earth.

And how those feet
those wonderful, marvelous feet
breathe

Breathe
with  your breath

Yes, today is a good day
to explore Earth.

Nature-al Yoga

It was finally beginning to feel like fall around here, but now it looks as if we are heading back up to near the 100 degree mark during the day, with slightly cooler evenings. While it's a bit warmer, it's not that unusual of a day here in the desert.
What's a good yoga practice for this subtle time of transition?

In our Peaceful Yoga for Women class, we move outside of our casita shala to practice in the lovely garden. We take our cues from the flitting butterflies, the bushes that flower and quickly fade, and the still-biting mosquitos. We practice our balance poses on the unevenness of the patio stones and take in the sounds of the neighborhood around us.

At Horse Yoga, we quietly notice the white dove, the scraggly blackbird, the stately blue heron who join us at the round pen. I scold the little house dog who seems determined to head out to the road (and instead runs to the porch, where he's let in to the house), and we get back to our walking meditation mandala, with Carrma, our teacher for the day.

Taking your cue from the world around us, how do you incorporate Nature into your yoga practice?

A Yoga Moment: Add the Martian Flourish

Stand.
Breathe.
Inhale -  arms out to the side with a flourish through the wrist, hand, fingers.
Exhale.
Repeat.

To see it in action: Go to somewhere just before 55s on the video. Watch close.

And it works even better if you imagine you have those 4 arms instead of 2.

Are you holding? Let it go.

That one, the one with her back to you, that's me, yours truly. Take a look at that right shoulder - that's classic holding. I'm pulling my right shoulder blade in that causes tension all the way through my elbow to wrist, hand, and fingers.

If you look at that right hip (it's okay, this is a kind of anatomy lesson), you can also see how I'm more drawn in than I am on the left. Can you see how it affects the back of my right knee and calf?

Yoga Sutra 2.46 (sthirasukhaasanam) tells us that our posture should have the dual qualities of alertness without tension, and relaxation without dullness or heaviness (from Reflections on Yoga Suutras of Patanjali by TKV Desikachar).

My left side in this photo is close to that balance yet my right side is drawn in. To find that balance, I need to release that tension on my right side, which I can do by first being aware that I'm holding, and then exhaling and using visualization to send that exhale into the holding area. Three long exhales will usually do it. And, yes, it's that simple. What initiates that holding anyway? Mind, of course. So Mind needs to engage fully with Breath to help Body find its way to that place of stability and comfort.

It can be a lot easier to see than it can be to recognize when you are holding or locked into a gripping pattern. What is the difference between holding and gripping? And what difference does it make to you? We'll take a look at that next time.

Oh, and that's Ephiny in the background with one of her new students.  We practice Horse-Assisted Yoga with her and her herd mates at Judith Tarr's Dancing Horse Farm every third Friday of the month (Tucson). 

Thanks to Evie Brett, the photographer gifted at catching these teaching moments. 

Daisy's Story

Still in the vjnanamaya, that dimension of being that reflects our creative self. This poem from that place, that dimension, is about a real horse-being, one of my earliest horse teachers from the time when I began to remember:

Daisy's Story

When Daisy flips her head
you might think her
   skittish
      and head-shy
   just a stubborn child's pony
   with wily pony ways. 


You would be mistaken. 


When Daisy flips her head
she is telling you a secret
hers
and yours. 


When Daisy nuzzles your hair
listen
and listen with all of your heart. 


When Daisy touches your hands
remember
and honor that remembering. 


When Daisy flips her head
look
and look closer. 


What do you see? 


Is it a trick of the desert light?
spiraling impossibly
shimmering with clarity? 


Could it be the horn 
the horn of the unicorn?


Daisy has a story about that
Ask her to tell you. 

And just for fun, Daisy was the original 'bad-ass unicorn'. Daisy has long since passed over the rainbow bridge. But her gifts linger on, inspiring me to continually remember. Namaste Daisy, Namaste.

Old poems, new: Once I was...

(You might wonder what in the heck these poems have to do with yoga, animal-connected yoga?) In a word, everything. In a sentence, these poems are the product and the language of the vjnanamaya - that somewhat mysterious dimension of the pancamaya model for yoga for healing - between logical mind and emotion, lie our songs and our stories...)

Once I was a Cowgirl
(originally written in 1990, or thereabouts
and things have changed a bit since then!)


Once I was a cowgirl
wearing tight jeans
permeated with the honest scent
of the sweat
of my red-headed pony.

My dress boots were the color of
desert sand, my work
boots of red cowhide, they had
roper heels and I drove a green
Chevy pickup.

I tied my hair in a thick braid
It hung to my ass and swayed
with me
carrying my cue stick to the bar
for a long cool one.

The cue was handmade.
I never had to use it to claim my quarter
from the guy in the black stetson.
I shot an okay game, but
sometimes
I was just so hot.

Now I work with computers
I can't drink beer
and I go to bed at ten.
There are no coyotes here
my cue stick stands
warped in a closet.

I still have my name belt though.
It's handmade too, the deep hand-tooled roses
tinted a dusty red.
Backed in gold suede, backstitched white
my name carved in bas relief across the back
my initials in the tongue.

JLK

This poem is a kind of bhavana, bringing me back home to horses and sweat and who knew the desert sand boots would become the real desert sand of the Sonoran desert?

Old Poems New Again: Jaguar

Jaguar

You admire the black beast
her casual violence
her indolent yawn

Her ballast to the hunt
a life its own
a softly sinuous scimitar

You long to stroke her
to feel the incandescence
caress the patterned iridescence

You inhale from the pink maw
the rich and heavy breath
redolent with the scent of the eternal

You stare into her eyes
those golden flecks
those ancient regimes
surround the welcome dark
of the unredeemed.

"Are ya grippin'?"

There it is again, that right tensor fascia latae, outer right hip. Beyond holding, more like muscle holding to bone for dear life, gripping as tightly as if I was hanging off the side of a mountain instead of sipping a cup of morning coffee.

And that's just the physical part of it. Besides which, that gripping wouldn't be so useful on the side of the mountain either.

In the yoga class, in the studio and with the horses, we've been exploring this concept of gripping. Gripping muscle to bone, jawbone clenching-throat closing gripping of the breath, mind gripping to thoughts, gripping to our self-stories.

Are you gripping that Trikonasana, or are you holding Trikonasana? What's the difference? Check with your breath, smooth,uniform, even, subtle?

Gripping is 'just' a samskara, a habit. It's not a particularly useful habit, so is one worthy of developing your awareness around, and then choosing to exhale softly instead of grip tightly.

Are ya grippin?

Blog for Change: When it's time to say goodbye

One of the inevitabilities of sharing your life with animals is loss. When I first started this blog, it was to help me process the loss of our Gilly. Right around that time, my friends, Sharon and Seth, started their service blog, Letters to Pushkin. Pushkin was Sharon's beloved beagle, who inspired her to go to law school to specialize in animal rights and continues to inspire her actions.

Also at around the same time, my friend, Kristine, lost her greyhound, Tiny Girl. We processed our grief together with the aid of her horse, Bianca. Kristine provides a service that is unique in her role as a celebrant. She helps people celebrate the transitions in their lives through Sweetgrass Ceremonies. One service she provides is helping people with the loss of their beloved animal companions through such practical knowledge as where you can find a place to cremate your friend's remains, and helping with ceremonies to celebrate their lives.

When you lose your beloved friend, remember:
www.letterstopushkin.com
www.sweetgrassceremonies.com.

Yoga of the psoas muscle on horseback

At Desert Horse Yoga, and Desert Horse Equestrian Services, we spend a great deal of time exploring psoas function on multiple levels. As a yoga teacher, I've been working with ways to gently release the psoas on the mat so that when we tone the bone and muscle, we begin from a place of release rather than tension.

This week has been gentle psoas release work in all of the yoga classes that I teach. This work is the best work I can think of to help people to relieve the trauma of our community due to the shooting resulting in death and injury at a Tucson shopping center.

Psoas release work applies the pancamaya model of yoga healing, which views the being from the physical, energetic, mental, personality, and emotional perspectives. I apply this yoga model for healing with focus on the psoas muscle.

The psoas muscle is your primary muscle of your deepest core, emerging from the transition of the thoracic spine to the lumbar spine to engage with the iliacus muscle of the pelvis, to reach to the lesser trochanter of the femur bones, thus directly connecting the torso to the legs centered by the pelvis. It is also intimate with the diaphragm and the pericardial sac, so is a muscle with a lot of influence.

This intriguing muscle is your filet mignon, literally, and has multiple talents. At the grossest level, the psoas is considered as a hip flexor. However, viewing it as simply a hip flexor loses the nuance of this all important muscle in the fright/flight/freeze response when exposed to trauma or potential trauma. See the work of David Bercelli for information on the function of the psoas muscle in trauma release work. And, the work of Liz Koch goes deep into the subtle actions of the psoas.

The same nuance that makes this tender muscle so influential in the releasing of trauma is also what helps us to our sthira sukha asana (stable, comfortable posture) whether that posture be standing, seated in a chair, in movement, on horseback, on the bike, on the rock wall, or at rest.

As a horse-assisted yoga teacher, it's natural to take the step of putting the person on the horse and practice the same release strategies on horseback. It's easier to feel the release on horseback, because the horse gives you more feedback than the floor.

Your legs can actually drape around the barrel of the horse, and your pelvis is supported by the horse. The connection with the horse helps set up a kind of feedback loop so that the horse can also release their own psoas. This is what happened today with Gary, after our horse yoga class. I got on board (bareback) and realized that my right psoas felt a little crunchy. I exhaled release and then Gary's right shoulder and leg began to shake a little, and continued for a few more breaths. I could feel him release under me, and we went off to practice his least favorite activity - backing. More on that another time.

Namaste.

And a happy new year....

Merry Christmas from those of us at Desert Horse Yoga

Pranayama Practice...with a horse

I rest my hands lightly on Peanut's right flank. The touch is light, so light as to tickle for many horses, but not for Peanut. I watch and feel his breath, being with him in the expansion and contraction of his breath. Together, we lengthen our exhales, just a little. Together we deepen the exhale through deeper abdominal contraction, just a little.

I notice that I am holding a bit in the back of my upper thighs, so I exhale that out. Peanut releases his flank a little more. I notice I have some tightness in the space between my upper scapulae and spinal column. Today, this isn't mine.

I'm reminded of the work we've been doing in our yoga classes these last few weeks, as we practice our asana and pranayama (postures and breath work). In pranayama as taught by the Desikachars, which you can read about in the Heart of Yoga, we inhale to fill the upper, middle, and lower chest and then the abdomen. We exhale from the abdomen, through lower, middle, upper chest. This is full diaphragmatic chest breathing, engaging abdominal contraction. It's helpful to exhale first for many, and then experience the in-flow of the inhale.

In a horse, the withers are well defined, and a good place to observe, feel, and practice filling the torso with breath. (That's a picture of Gary, showing the location of the withers. ) This is also an area in horses, like humans, that can get constrained and breathwork is one of the best ways to address this constraint.



Peanut is not expanding very much in this area today. (Peanut is a horse known to be a bit of a breath-holder.) So, once again, I use that tickle touch. I place the fingers of my right hand in the hollow below is left wither, and the fingers of my left hand stay in his flank area, and then we commence to breathe together in that long, slow deliberate way. Peanut begins to release through his mouth, (long tongue in a slow lick and chew), draws in a deep breath, and relaxes completely. (One thing about a male horse, you know when he's totally relaxed, because he'll drop his penis.)

Peanut has been a great yoga teacher for me these last few days. For one thing, he's the kind of horse you would never guess would appreciate a tickle touch. He's big and energetic, and is, well, quirky at times. He's also a horse that likes you to be either up close and personal, or, well, way far away. We've had to work through some of these spatial issues, and now I'm happy to be invited into his space. Namaste, Peanut!