September 8, 2024
When the weather is warm, I often do yoga outside - it's one of my favourite things to do.
In the image here, I am sitting facing the lake down below, my son Joshua is filming me.
“Just go sit on the lichen over there”,
”On the lichen?”,
“Yes, it will be fine”.
He means the lichen will be fine :)
It ends up being this soft comfortable seat, the breeze is perfect and soothing, the view of the sparkling water and large trees in front of me; I could sit here all day. And he is a good photographer and has a great eye for nature and light.
Some have suggested that the physical practice of yoga was historically ultimately about being able to sit with ease in meditation. Although, I am sure this is a simplification. There was a time, after my car accident at the age of 25, that sitting on the ground hurt by back, for years. Teaching meditation sitting on the ground was uncomfortable after a few minutes. This is in my past now, but I know how it feels.
Asana - “Posture” or “A steady and comfortable seat”
Going outside in nature, since I was a teen, has felt like my refuge, my escape, my healing place, a place to clear my mind - especially in the quiet large woods and by the water. Clearly I am not alone - I am thinking of all the cars heading North in Ontario to the lakes and woods in the summer.
It’s a retreat back to what I call the “real” world and real beauty; it sets my mind back in balance when I am off kilter, over-stimulated, and mentally exhausted. It reminds me of the flow of life, ever-changing, especially when I am by the water. Time after time I am in awe of the simple beauty of woods, light, sky, and colour reflecting on water, I never get tired of it. There is no better "art" than a sunset, literally every moment it is new and different.
When I am kayaking on this lake, in some places the forests alongside me are untouched by human development (at least not for a long time, perhaps it was clear cut at some point in time), no road access, not electricity poles, perhaps not even human paths.
Here, no one has pulled up or cleaned up the dead trees, the fallen branches. And here is where I can see the cycle of life in all its glory and in its disintegration.
The new bright green seedlings, flimsy and flexible in the wind, the strong tall vibrant rich green pines and the various stages of aging and dying trees. The oldest are gray and dry, they are gradually falling to the ground, pulled down by gravity little by little, they become lighter, dehydrated, ashy (like we will be one day too). I am sure some remain useful homes for the birds and insects for a long time. Every part of them will return to the earth. They are literally nourishment for the earth, they still play their part. And they all live here as a thriving community. I know of course that Nature is not always “kind” and certainly messy and complex.
I am reflecting on the current world of podcasts, interviews and books about health and wellness and all the talk about “longevity” and “anti-aging”. And here are the trees growing vibrant and strong in the sunshine, reaching up into the air and light, deep roots reaching down for nourishment and water. It's simple. It's real.
Unlike the trees, we need to move, we need to move daily, it's really important we do so. Studies on bed-rest, excessive sitting and astronaut travel show us we deteriorate without moving up and against gravity.
I am convinced that walking is truly the best way to move, the most natural for all of us.
Yoga also provides a way to move, and it's a nice way to move whether we have lots of energy or low energy, or when we don’t have the strength to do other things.
Yoga has also been for me about self-discovery, healing and recovery. I encourage my yoga students to explore, pay attention and notice what they discover in themselves. As we move in a variety of ways, we find what is rigid and restrictive, what doesn’t move well, what pulls and resists our movements and also what feels good.
This feels natural to me as well, especially when I make it my own.
When we move slowly enough and with awareness we discover ourselves.
And when we are decidedly quiet we come face to face with not only our pain but also our minds.
It seems likely to me that in the same way the body heals (like the trees) in the right conditions, the mind can heal too - in the right conditions. I wonder about the effects of constant distraction, entertainment, consumption of "stuff", drama, news, the constant use of tech. What are we doing to our bodies and minds?
Fast tech, fast food, light and activity at the wrong times of day, when do we slow down?
How much can the mind absorb and digest in any one day and let go of and clean up at night while we sleep?
And so I keep returning to the forest and the water and try to remember what they have to show us. The trees remind me of the resilience of nature, their quiet, steady presence. The water, that life is in flow. We are all part of this beauty and intelligence, forever joined.
Here is the real world.
