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....