Worthy Read #2: "10% Happier" by Dan Harris

Last spring my friend J, with whom I went on retreat, first lent me the book "10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in my Head, Reduced Stress without Losing my Edge, and Found Self-Help that Actually Works - a True Story" by Dan Harris. I was, admittedly, somewhat skeptical initially. While I'd been exploring mindfulness for a number of years, was experimenting with meditation and was reading some books on compassion and acceptance, I wasn't really looking for a "self-help" book, per se. But, as I'm betting many of us has felt before, there's a certain sense of obligation to read a book that's been lent to us. After all, when our friend asks, "So, what did you think?" or "How'd you like it?" when we return it, it's difficult to fake it or say, "Um, well, I didn't read it." So, I opened the cover and delved in, good friend that I am.

And how glad I was that I did - I not only finished it in a few days' time, but have since reread it in its entirety and have referred to certain segments repeatedly! Harris is an American journalist and television news anchor. His writing is immediately engaging, his voice wry and witty, honest and loudly skeptical. Truly, if I thought I was skeptical before beginning to read his book, I needn't have feared: Harris is skeptical enough for the lot of us! Through a first-hand account of the incredibly interesting professional life he's lead, which takes us into a myriad of colourful places, including the war zones of Afghanistan, the West Bank and Iraq, to in-depth coverage of America's diverse religious cultures and subcultures, Harris opens up with shocking candour about how his internal voice, that infernal narrator of our lives which just won't shut off or up, guided him through many of these experiences. His own trials with drug addiction, self-criticism, anxiety and stress play out in a well laid out plot, interspersed with a cast of memorable real-life characters including but not limited to renowned news anchors, fallen-from-grace pastors, self-help gurus, and a host of neuroscientists. Harris' unabashedly honest portrayal of his own inner voice which fuels his competitive edge in his career but also creates a quagmire of stress in his life is both laugh-out-loud hilarious and embarrassingly too close to home, as many will be able to relate to some of his feelings and tendencies. 

To give you a brief taste of both his style and the book's content, here's an excerpt from the first two pages of the preface: 

"If you'd told me when I first arrived in New York City, to start working in network news, that I'd be using meditation to defang the voice in my head - or that I'd ever write a book about it - I would have laughed at you. Until recently, I thought of meditation as the exclusive province of bearded swamis, unwashed hippies, and fans of John Tesh music. Moreover, since I have the attention span of a six-month-old yellow Lab, I figured it was something I could never do anyway. I assumed, given the constant looping, buzzing, and fizzing of my thoughts, that "clearing my mind" wasn't an option.
But then came a strange and unplanned series of events, involving war zones, megachurches, self-help gurus, Paris Hilton, the Dalai Lama, and ten days of silence that, in a flash, went from the most annoying to the most profound experience of my life. As a result of all of this, I came to realize that my preconceptions about meditation were, in fact, misconceptions." 

This book is a perfect introduction to the concepts of mindfulness and meditation, which Harris makes accessible to all with the sharing of his own journey through skepticism, research and experimentation. Whether or not these topics are of any interest to you, the fantastic writing and terrifically engaging autobiographical elements of Harris' account are immensely entertaining, deeming this a definite worthy read in my books!

Harris, Dan. 10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in my Head, Reduced Stress without Losing my Edge, and Found Self-Help that Actually Works - a True Story. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2014.

My wonders (sometimes I have many!): Had you heard of Dan Harris before reading this post, and/or have you seen him on television? If so, what were your impressions? Have you read any other books about mindfulness and/or meditation? If you have any favourites, please do share the titles with me. Do you enjoy reading autobiographies and/or biographies? If so, do you have a list of any that you would recommend?

From this Side of Silence: Reflections on my Week-Long Yoga & Meditation Retreat

Since returning from my week away in Brooks, Maine where I went on retreat at Rolling Meadows Yoga and Meditation Centre (http://rollingmeadowsretreat.com/), a number of friends have asked me to tell them about my experience. "Sooooo . . . ?" they begin, eyebrows raised as they wait for me to fill in the blank space left in the wake of their query. And I've noticed that I've been typically replying in vague tones, something to the effect of, "It was good. Really good." And then wandering off topic as I turn the subject over to what they've been up to for the week. 

It's not that I've become completely socially inept (though there have always been times in my life when I've felt exactly that way!), and I'm not looking to take a vow of silence for the rest of my life (while stillness nourishes me at times - see my post on 'Stillness' - I love connecting with friends and family). My reticence when it comes to describing my retreat from my daily routine may be linked to the advice from some in the field of meditation and retreats, including one of my instructors at Rolling Meadows, as well as writer and mindfulness-guru Jon Kabat-Zinn. In his book, "Wherever You Go, There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life," Kabat-Zinn pretty much advises the person who's bursting with the temptation to tell all and sundry that they meditate, not to. Period. A part of me may be holding back because I don't know that some people will truly understand my desire to go where I went. Or perhaps they'll misunderstand what I'm saying about it as I describe it. Or maybe they'll think I'm getting preachy about it. There may even be a part of me that feels as though I need to protect the experience, and that the only way to do so is to keep it locked up safely inside. Even here, in writing - a forum in which I'm usually more clear and eloquent than I am verbally - I'm obviously having difficulty pinning all of this down. To put it mildly!

I suppose what all of that rambling boils down to is that perhaps there's a part of me that fears judgement of some kind or other, whether it's made by those who think I went off to a luxury spa where I was essentially pampered all week, or those who think I'm spiralling towards becoming a meditating zealot of some kind. So, I thought I would use this space to outline what a typical day in my life on retreat looked like. To reiterate, that's MY life - not everyone there necessarily chose to use their time as I did. But here's a glimpse into a day in the life of Julie while on retreat at Rolling Meadows Yoga & Meditation Centre.

My day tended to begin rather early, which isn't an altogether new phenomenon, as I am an early-riser at home as well. But being one of 13 people lodging in an 1840's renovated New England farm house and having a roommate does put a new spin on things. As a result, I usually lay in bed looking out the windows waiting for the faint streaks of pre-dawn light to creep into the October sky. This seemed to me a socially acceptable time to rise and was my cue to oh-so quietly begin stirring, getting dressed and making my way downstairs. I did my utmost to be extra-mindful of how I opened and closed the front door seeing as a lovely but very sensitive set of bells hung on it decoratively. Seriously, we're trying to be silent here and though aesthetically lovely, the bells felt like a bit of a booby trap at times :).

My bedroom window on retreat and the view beyond.

One of the barns was visible from the quaint little dormer window in our room as well.

I love mornings. There's something so full of hope and promise about a new day unfolding before you. The morning's stillness creates an air of calm and mystery, and to be one of the few people out and about during such a secret time of the day gives me a little thrill. Plus, you get to see things that those who rise later miss out on. Like the flock of wild turkeys I befriended. Well, okay, "befriended" might be a bit of a stretch; it may have been a one-sided friendship. During one of my initial dawn outings I chanced upon a sizable group of these large, somewhat comical birds in a meadow adjacent to a forest. They were mere silhouettes when I first spied them, and I stealthily inched closer and closer to get to know these interesting fellows, more than twenty in their brood. They, however, weren't that keen on meeting me and quickly stumbled over one another in their eagerness to disappear into the treeline of the forest, a long line of feathered soldiers with much to learn about moving furtively, the larger ones urging on the naive small ones with wild clucks. It was, after all, Canada's Thanksgiving Day and I figure they sensed that I was Canadian and that this was a dangerous day for poultry to be flaunting themselves. And what do they really know of vegetarians? Each morning thereafter I made sure that this stretch was on my morning route. They appeared in the meadow only one other time, but guess where I found them several other mornings? Up in the trees! You may very well know that turkeys roost in treetops, a perfectly logical place for a bird to sleep safely away from predators. But to be walking through the woods on a peaceful morning and to discover this visually is a completely different matter. I was first alerted to their presence by their shrill clucks and softer coos. They were obviously telling each other, "She's near! She's coming! She's here!", and they're not terribly good at whispering. Scanning the forest floor, still shadowed in the dim light of dawn, I searched for my gobbling friends to no avail. Until I obviously got too close for comfort to the trees that several were roosting in, and they took to the sky in a jarring cacophony of shrieking clucks amidst a massive upheaval of branches, leaving me with mouth agape as the autumn leaves shaken free by their flurried flight rained down upon me. Now that I knew where they were I peered skyward and, sure enough, began spotting these plump, dark bodies sitting most improbably up in the tops of the trees surrounding me. Each time that I got too close for their comfort, several more would take flight, until I surely scared off the entire flock. I realize it may have been somewhat cruel to repeat this effort, but I entered into this game of hide 'n seek with the wild turkeys every morning for the duration of my stay. How they must be rejoicing now that I've left!

Morning sky.



The wild turkey sightings happened in both the field and forest ahead and to the right.

Sunrise

 

As part of the organized schedule of the retreat, our first session was our morning meditation which began at 7:30, so I had to wrap up my walk and be back at the house in time for this. The ringing of a singing bowl was used to alert us to the start of all sessions and meals, in addition to being rung as a wake-up call at 7:00 for those participants not playing with the wild turkeys. They were also used regularly within our sessions to signal the beginning and end of our meditation periods. Morning meditation was a half an hour long and was a silent time of quieting the body and mind, to create a space in which to simply be. Without getting into my experience here in too much detail here, I will admit that just being does not come very easily to me. My mind tends to follow each thought like a helpless young duckling is pulled along by the currents of a stream, and mama duck has to nip my focus by the tail feathers and pull me back behind the veil separating me from all of the chaos. There's no doubt, however, that even through all of this, the quieting was beneficial to my overall sense of wellbeing, and the exercise is patience-enhancing, which is a positive effect in any case.

A wonderful breakfast was served shortly after this session, consisting of steel-cut oatmeal and a vast array of condiments to spruce it up. A chunky apple cinnamon sauce, containing apples from the property's orchard, was available, along with other oatmeal toppings such as raisins, bananas, coconut, granola, prunes, almonds and both a dairy and non-dairy milk option. All meals served were vegetarian and many of the ingredients came from their own gardens and orchards.

After breakfast followed a stretch of free time. Once I began to sense the flow of everyone's day, I decided that this was a good time for me to peruse the house's library (overflowing with books on meditation, mindfulness, yoga, compassion, and nature), use the washroom for the purpose of showering (sharing only several washrooms between 13 people can be a challenge, but this time worked without fail for me), and to relax in our bedroom, usually reading or journaling. My roommate and dear friend, J, tended to use this time to go for a long walk and preferred to be in the room during the afternoon free time, so this routine worked well; we both knew full well that the temptation to talk would be far too great if we gave ourselves too much time together in our room!

My side of the room: a cozy spot for reading, journaling, and reflection.

The singing bowl announced the next session, which ran from 10:30 - 12:30. During this time we engaged in both meditation and a variety of styles of yoga. Our two instructors, an incredibly skilled, experienced and compassionate husband and wife team, took turns leading the sessions, but were often both present. Throughout the course of the week, we were exposed to what felt like a beautiful sampling of practices, including but not limited to meditation, asana, classical hatha yoga, yin and restorative yoga, yoga nidra, pranayama, continuum yoga, and metta meditation which we often practised through a series of prostrations (metta is the concept of compassion and universal loving-kindness). Within this session we also engaged in a fair amount of dialogue, a time for questions and a sharing of feelings, reflections, intentions and issues which may have brought some participants to this place in their lives. This was an unexpected aspect of the retreat for me. I was caught off guard by the element of counseling that transpired during some of the sessions, but it was an incredible process and experience to be privy to. That we had all created such a space of trust and comfort, enabling openness and the sharing of emotion and pain, gave me a sensation of true privilege that I will always hold dear. While a positive experience in the grand scope of things, I did find this part of the sessions to be both emotionally and physically exhausting. I tend to feel others' pain quite viscerally while hiding it fairly well, and I'm certain this was a large part of why I crashed into my cozy little bed each evening immediately after final meditation. Well, that and the hours of yoga, early mornings, pure country air, and the freedom from all electronic distractions!

Lunch followed this session. As at dinner time, we were always served a delicious and nourishing meal, such as these: lentil sambar, vegetable frittata, mung dal kitchari, Mediterranean red lentil and spinach stew, basque white bean soup, and a variety of salads and/or vegetable dishes prepared alongside, including country cabbage slaw, kale or collards in Indian spices, and simple steamed broccoli florets with olive oil and lemon juice. Our beverage options were water and tea - a great variety of flavours of tea, both caffeinated and caffeine free. You may note, however, that, in addition to there being no meat, there was never coffee, dessert, or alcohol. A number of participants noted at the retreat's end that they had gone through a definite detox process. While I don't consume coffee or alcohol regularly enough to feel deprived without them, I did experience a very strong craving mid-week: I wanted a cookie bigger than my face more than you can imagine! This obviously indicates that I consume far too much refined sugar in my day-to-day life, which probably wouldn't be a bad idea to look into a bit . . . we'll see!

The afternoon was a time to do with as you chose, with the caveat in mind that we should be being as much as possible. I felt rather rebellious on the two occasions when I took my backpack out with me containing my camera so that I could capture some of the wondrous nature surrounding us. Taking photos was most definitely doing, but I tried to do so as mindfully as possible! I spent most of these afternoons out in the woods. Rolling Meadows is located on 100 acres of beautiful rural land in mid-coast Maine. In and around the woods there are a spring-fed pond, streams, meadows, orchards, walking paths, and a pasture home to a small flock of sheep. And oh yes, to those of you who might recall my eagerness to pet a sheep while in Iceland, I did indeed pet the sheep in Maine!

Being out in nature for several hours each day was very nourishing, particularly when, as you can see by the photos above, the setting includes the forests of New England at the peak of Autumn splendour.

Our next session ran from 4:00 - 6:00, and featured both meditation and yoga once again. Dinner followed this session, and I was typically feeling ravenous by this point in the day. The sound of growling stomachs was often the background music during our meditations! I often went out for a last walk of the day before our final evening meditation, which began at 7:30. Following this very peaceful and calming session, I would invariably head to bed, sometimes reading a few pages before sleep overtook me.

Before going on retreat, numerous people mentioned to me that they knew people who'd embarked on similar journeys and had found the experience transformative. I can see how this would be the case. I found it did, indeed, affect me profoundly. In one sense, I found it reaffirming, as it reminded me of the importance of my values and of what I know nourishes me. I found it very opening, in terms of broadening my viewpoint on compassion and the beneficial possibilities that meditation may offer. And I found the experience enlightening. No, perhaps not in the "Ah-ha!" spiritual sense of a true awakening to nirvana, but using the word in a Western context, I felt that I learned a great deal and as a result grew in my thinking and beliefs.

I will be honest and say that a retreat of this nature is certainly not for everyone; I have to chuckle when I picture some people I know who've proclaimed that they cannot imagine abstaining from speech for even an hour attempting a silent retreat. But if you've ever seriously considered participating in a silent yoga and meditation retreat, if you feel that this is an experience that you would benefit from, then I highly recommend going on retreat, and specifically would recommend Rolling Meadows Yoga & Meditation Retreat Centre.
Namaste

My wonders: Does this retreat experience sound like something that you would like to partake in? What elements of the experience appeal to you? Which elements, if any, sound less appealing, or perhaps challenging? If you've ever been on retreat, please consider sharing your experience with me!

Thought of the Week: Stillness

"In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, 

and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness. 

Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth."

~ Mahatma Ghandi

 

"It is in the sanctuary of nature's silent places, 

with mindful attention, 

that the true liberation of the heart can be obtained."

~ Buddha

Having recently returned from a week-long silent yoga and meditation retreat, I can speak to how closing the lid on a "container of silence" affected me personally. When we first arrived at the Rolling Meadows Retreat Centre in Maine after our twelve-hour drive there, we were able to speak with everyone, meeting and greeting as one would at the beginning of a conference or vacation get-away. Our first meal together was spent getting to know a little bit about each other through natural social conversation. Questions about where people were from and how we traveled to get to the retreat centre cropped up, and easy jokes that ensued brought about laughter in the group. Most of the other ten participants were American, and one cracked a political joke, saying that they all needed to befriend us Canadians so that we might help them tunnel up North should the election result in a certain blustery fanatic becoming the next president of the United States! This kind of easy social banter kept us engaged and allowed us to get our bearings in this new environment.

Our first evening meditation session followed shortly thereafter, during which many logistical issues were outlined, including the agreement that we would be practising social silence, only speaking at select times during our sessions. At the conclusion of this session, we had officially entered into silence. 

One of the reasons for silence at retreats such as the one I attended is to create a space free of distraction and in which the focus on so many of the superficial values perpetuated in our society can be put aside. Time and space is given to just be, to become more fully aware of our true Selves, and to reveal or renew a sense of deeper meaning, compassion and clarity in our lives.

At the beginning of the week, there were indeed times when the silence felt awkward to me. Meal times in particular felt this way, especially if I sat at one of the larger tables. Usually such a social scenario, and especially in sharp contrast to that first meal we had all shared, eating in silence initially felt odd. I have certainly never been so keenly aware of the noises my own chewing makes! However, this sense of strangeness eased up after a few meals. We could also choose to eat in nearly any nook in the house that we wished, so oftentimes we would all be dispersed throughout the main floor of the large house, nestled in cozy chairs, sitting on the floor and eating at the coffee table, or siting with a few others at the kitchen or dining tables. 

Encountering people while in the woods and not greeting one another also had a strange feeling, but I tended to make up for this lack of polite verbal greeting with a smile and nod; some more militant in their ways resisted this and simply averted their eyes. Soon the silent ideal felt pretty normal, especially since we were usually digesting and integrating what we'd experienced during sessions. The other comforting element was that most of us were not entirely robotic about the silence: we whispered a "sorry" or "excuse me" when necessary, and as mentioned, smiles and the occasional bit of eye contact eliminated most of the awkwardness which may have otherwise clung. My friend and I were roommates, and prior to our entry into silence, we had also agreed that a whispered "Good night" and "Good morning" were both fair game. The two words given and received at the end and beginning of a day elicited broad smiles and a little thrill that so often comes from doing the forbidden.

"Silence is golden" is a phrase many of us have heard, but do we really believe that in this day and age? Our culture so often seems to revere those with the gift of oration. Great speakers are often given leadership roles and we all too often chide youngsters who are shy and quiet, urging them to speak up and make their mark verbally. All too often quietness seems to be looked upon as a weakness or deficit in our society.

Yet so much can be gleaned from listening, and listening well, both to others and to what is inside of ourselves. I feel very grateful for having had the opportunity to truly embrace quiet for the last week. As a natural introvert, I tend to recharge my own proverbial batteries more effectively when in a quieter environment. I feel more able to think and feel with clarity after even a short time of stillness.  Nature's stillness in particular nourishes me and helps me see what matters most. The one hundred acres of beautiful autumn woods in Maine upon which the retreat centre is located were a wondrous source of inspiration and clarity, and I close my eyes and breathe in the scent and feeling that I found there even as I sit here, many miles away.

"Silent spaces invite us to go to the inner room - the room inside ourselves.

By making room for silence, we resist the forces of the world which tell us to live an advertised life of surface appearances,

instead of a discovered life - a life lived in contact with our senses, our feelings,

our deepest thoughts and values."

~ Gunilla Norris

Returning to the world of talking is, perhaps not surprisingly, taking a bit of an adjustment. On our final morning of the retreat following our last session, the lid was taken off of our "container of silence" and we spent our last breakfast together chatting and ultimately saying goodbye. Seeing, or more aptly, hearing all of these people with whom we'd shared this time of silence now talking away was both exciting and yet felt just as odd as our initial silence had felt. And now, being back home amongst family and friends, I'm happy to be in their presence and able to catch up. There's nothing quite like connecting with another and delighting in sharing stories, thoughts and feelings with each other. But I'm also cognizant of how much society's noise and kerfuffle can take out of me. That awareness is key, and I will do my best to remember to make space for stillness when possible. Time to check in with where I am internally, to nourish myself through meditation, and to just go hang out with the trees.

My wonder: Do you value silence? Do you derive strength from it, or is it an uncomfortable space for you? Have you ever been on a silent retreat, or would you like to participate in one?

B-G Unplugged

I am heading off on a roadtrip with a dear friend today, our destination an 1840's renovated New England farmhouse overlooking the hills of coastal Maine. There we will participate in a week-long yoga and meditation retreat. I am both vibrating with excitement and prepared to be challenged and humbled in a way that I've never been before.

We will be following what looks to be a fairly regimented daily schedule, including four yoga/meditation sessions which are interspersed with three meals and two blocks of personal time. And yes, this is a silent retreat. Yup, silent. Quiet. Hushed. Still. Inaudible, Noiseless. You got it; there won't be a lot of idle chitchat going on. I'm both looking forward to this "social silence", and am somewhat fearful of it. How does one sit through a meal with people, a normally very social situation, without speaking to them? Will the voices in my head simply take over for the lack of actual audible voices around me?? The answer may well come from listening to the silence, and to the wonder which just might be lying in wait for me there.Time will tell.

An ironic aspect of my choice of dates for this retreat is that I would normally be attending a vastly different event on our arrival day. Yes, though this year the second weekend in October will see me submersing myself in "a container of shared silence", delving into self-inquiry and restorative poses, were I back home I would be going Oktoberfesting with a great crew of friends with whom this has been an annual tradition for quite a number of years! The friend with whom I'm traveling and I had to chuckle when I first noted this troubling point of the retreat's date. Hmmm, I mused, shall I seek inner peace and life's deeper meaning in silence, or go festing, with all of its drunken revelry and blaring polka tunes? I do love that my life's seesaw offers up both of these opportunities and experiences. After all, it's all about balance, right :)

To check out where I'll be and get a glimpse into what I might be doing, here's the link for the Rolling Meadows Yoga and Meditation Retreat Centre:

http://rollingmeadowsretreat.com/

I will be away for a full week, and will also be 'unplugged' during this time. The retreat is essentially a device-free zone, and I will have limited to no contact with anyone other than the other participants and our leaders. As a result, I will not be posting anything new for the next week, nor likely for a few days after getting back; I'll surely need some time to ease back into a world of voices and will be drinking up my family in copious doses! Please take the time to catch up on previous posts and begin any dialogue you wish through the comments option. I look forward to sharing the details of my experience when I return.
Namaste

My wonders: Have you ever participated in a yoga and/or meditation retreat of any kind? What was your experience? If you haven't yet, would you be interested in attending such a retreat?

The Quest to Achieve Mindfulness through Yoga and Meditation

Mindfulness to me is the state of being present and calm, grateful for the now and all that this moment encapsulates. Thoughts, fears and anxieties about the past and future are common obstacles to enjoying this state, and I find that my own A-type personality often impedes my achievement of being truly mindful. Rereading my words here, several jump out which I ruefully acknowledge as being sure impediments for me: "quest", "achievement". I tend to be goal oriented and find great satisfaction in the completion of a task or project. I will cut myself some slack in acknowledging that these are not negative traits in all contexts of life, of course, but they can greatly hinder my own sense of mindfulness and savouring the present moment on a regular basis. If you're looking ahead to how you're going to get somewhere or complete and achieve something, it's very difficult to be savouring this moment, here and now.

My experience with yoga, meditation and mindfulness is varied, but lacks the depth and regularity that I would like to feel the benefits of. As a younger practitioner, I occasionally dropped into a class at a gym, or followed a televised or recorded class in my own home. Pre-natal yoga was something I also engaged in on occasion as an expectant mother, but the practice was always something that felt more like an add-on, fit in where I could manage it, and it was always superseded by my running.

Feeling the need for greater balance in my life both physically and spiritually during the dawn of motherhood, I began going to a regular weekly yoga class when my eldest daughter, H, was just a toddler. A fellow educator and I attended a class held in the backroom of a church, simple yet full of daylight which streamed through the wall of windows behind us. We joked that, combining our skill set, we could together make one decent yogi, physically speaking. She was the flexible one, a physical skill I lack in many areas, and I seemed to have better-than-average balance along with some strength. Eventually, though we both thoroughly enjoyed the class, I found the stress of finding care for H and then racing across town to get to class on time outweighed the benefits reaped; after all, wasn't a major point of my going to reduce stress rather than increase it? Sporadic yoga practice ensued, during which I again simply fit it in when I could by more or less doing my own thing at home.

Years later, a neighbour friend and I began going to hot yoga classes together at a Bikram facility. Again, though I felt fleeting moments of inner peace and most definitely began to feel the benefits of increased flexibility in incremental measurements, I still struggled with attendance. The class was late in the evening and we were both already exhausted from a full day of work and motherhood; by now I was Mommy to my two girls. I was giving up what small amount of time my husband and I had at the end of a day. And the heat . . . in the words of Elaine of 'Seinfeld' fame, "My God, the heat!" I craved cool breezes and icy glasses of lemonade while in the sweat-drenched chamber, my nostrils filled with the stench of feet, my skin soaked in my own perspiration and, distressingly, often that of the person next to me, as beads of sweat flew off of them onto me. The most delicious part was stepping outside into the cold Canadian winter after the 90-minute class, relishing the snowflakes on my face and the bitter wind on my hot skin. We found ourselves canceling more and more often, and eventually stopped attending altogether.

Thanks to some talented colleagues and a mindfulness workshop for teachers in which I participated, I began bringing yoga and mindfulness techniques into my Kindergarten classroom a number of years ago. The practice had wonderfully calming effects on my students, noticeably enhancing their abilities to self-regulate their emotions and thus their behaviour. A variety of wonderful books (future post planned during which I'll share some of my fave resources in this area) helped introduce many of the concepts that I wanted to impart to these young learners, and I found that these times of the day were often my very favourite in the classroom. Many parents of my students also raved about the impact this practice was having on their children. I had to smile with satisfaction when one such Mom shared with me how much her son missed yoga now that he was in Grade One, and that she was going to begin the practice with him in their home.

More recently, I have increased my time on the mat by doing yoga in the comfort of my own home using instructional videos as my teacher on a near-daily basis, typically in the mornings, though sometimes also at night. This practice has enabled me to begin and/or end my day more mindfully, and suits my schedule fairly well. I do enjoy being around other practitioners at times, and have also attended some classes that a talented friend of mine leads in her studio. My hope is to begin attending a regular class in order to extend my practice, and to continue practising at home as well. Having more time on my hands than usual these days, of course, could make this much easier, but I am trying to create a routine for myself which I will, in all hopes, be able to continue when I'm back to teaching next year.

As for meditation, I feel that I've done more reading about it than actual practise. Most of my experience with some form of meditating comes at the end of a yoga session, and otherwise comprises five- to ten-minute bouts of attempted serenity. My thoughts typically swirl madly in my head during these moments. My internal voice most definitely needs quieting. I tell myself that I am a work in progress, and that every moment in attempted meditation is a good one, even when I'm overwhelmed by a tsunami of thought. 

Here's some exciting news: I'm going on a week-long Yoga and Meditation Retreat in Maine in October! A friend of mine and I had spoken about doing this sort of thing nearly a year ago, and this summer we committed to choosing a retreat and enrolling. We are attending Rolling Meadows, described as "a 100 acre yoga and meditation retreat centre over-looking the hills of coastal Maine." Check out the website below if you're interested in learning more.

http://rollingmeadowsretreat.com/

Stay tuned to hear about the details of this adventure in mindfulness (is that an oxymoron??) and silence . . . oh yes, did I mention that it's a silent retreat?!?! I'm prepared to be humbled and challenged, that's for certain.

Namaste.

My wonder: How do you fit yoga, meditation and/or mindfulness techniques into your busy daily life?