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Isabel Allende tells tales of passion | Video on TED.com
Showing posts with label passion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label passion. Show all posts
Monday, March 8, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
go big or go home
"Go big or go home."
I've been attending an intermediate flow yoga for the past few weeks, and this seems to be the instructor's favorite motto.
I love it though. It's all about giving your all. It's about passion.
She leads us through a challenging sequence of standing poses, and we hold warrior pose on one side throughout several variations, with 3-5 breaths per pose. Warrior I, hold. Warrior I with arms behind, hands clasped and fingers interlaced, expand chest. Bow forward into Devotional Warrior. Back to Warrior I. Warrior I to Warrior II. Warrior II to Reverse Warrior. Reverse Warrior to Extended Side Angle. Extended Side Angle with a half bind or full bind. Oh, and she might throw in Half Moon too. And yes, about 3-5 LONG breaths for each pose. Without switching sides or to the other leg in between any of those lunge poses. At one point the instructor even sat on one yogini's thigh while she was in warrior. (Thank goodness it wasn't me.)
Towards the end of this sequence, my right thigh is shaking, and finally I feel like giving up. I let out a loud "WHEW!" And she says, "Go big or go home!"
And sometimes that's all it takes - a little encouragement, a friendly push to find your edge.... then finally, we go through a vinyasa to rest in Downward Dog for about 5 breaths. I tell you, after that sequence, that Down Dog is the best Down Dog ever.
Then we switch to Warrior on the left and do the same sequence all over again.
"Go big or go home."
At the end, it feels great though. To know that I've given my all. Pushed myself to find my edge... not to be competitive with others or with myself (ok, maybe a just a little competitive with myself...), but to reach that point of a little discomfort in order to grow stronger...while recognizing that it's ok to lose my balance from my Half Moon pose. I don't have to judge myself when I fall; I just accept it. I can get back up and try again. Recognizing that someone is there to help you stretch just a little bit further - not too much, but just enough. Just enough for the challenge to be right for you at that moment.
And isn't that what we do in life, anyway? We dream, and we dream big. We push ourselves beyond our comfort zones, to know what we're capable of. But we also forgive ourselves when we fall and make mistakes. We can accept help and support. We also accept periods of rest, and when we do, the rest is so deliciously blissful... much like the Downward Dogs after the challenging standing sequence. And in this state, we know that we are stronger for it, and that we made every moment count.
Go big or go home!
* The Yoga Journal website is a great resource for photos of yoga poses. Click here.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
more thoughts on passion
I am reminded yet again, of how the lines between the so-called "categories" of life become blurry. In an earlier post I wrote about seeking passion - in yoga and in other areas of life.
Work is definitely one area in which there must be passion. Sure, there will always be moments of frustration, or moments of doubt, when the challenges are great. But at the end of the day, there must be passion. This is what gets us up in the morning.
I am fortunate that I have found something to be passionate about early on, and have since worked in the field of early childhood intervention. Years ago, in my first year of teaching, I learned a very valuable lesson from a child and family I worked with, about the inclusion of a child with a disability. That child, that family, and that particular experience was my first teacher. I am humbled to this day, and I owe them much gratitude for teaching me an important life lesson and inspiring me to become a better teacher... and more importantly, to teach with compassion and passion.
I recently had an opportunity to listen to Ann Turnbull, a well-respected professor, researcher, and national expert in the field of special education, through a "webinar" for educators and families. She herself is a parent of an individual with a disability, and she spoke about her son, who passed away last year at the age of 40. He developed a passion for music in early childhood, and this passion for music continued on throughout his adult years. This was her message to the audience of educators and families:
"What passions are you facilitating in the children that you teach, so that they can use this passion as a way to connect with others, to feel self-esteem... as a way to contribute, as a way to truly have a quality of life?"
Wow. That is a great challenge. It is a challenge that inspires: how do we take action from here?
She went on to say:
"Make room for genuine relationships."
And the most important lesson: "We are not just in the education business, or the rehabilitation business. We are in the dignity business."
These are important lessons, not just for the work we do to practice inclusion in classrooms, but beyond that. In yoga, we talk about yoga "off the mat" - we talk about how we "live" our yoga. Along the same lines, how do we "live" inclusion beyond the classroom? How do we truly include people of varying abilities in our lives, in our communities, so that they have dignity and quality of life?
So why am I writing about this?
Because I think that yoga - which by definition, is union - is also about inclusion. I am not separate from you, or you, or you. Which is why, at the end of a yoga practice, an instructor typically says, "Namaste." The word is derived from the Sanskrit namas, which means "I bow," and te, which means "to you," - "I bow to you." An extended translation is "The light in me honors the light in you" or "The divine in me honors the divine in you." Such beautiful, profound words - but made even more beautiful when it carries over to other parts of our lives: to our relationships, to our work, and everything else. Because what good is my spiritual practice, if it is not truly practiced?
So I am prompted, especially, to think about how I should try to live by these words in my work: to always remember that people are differently-abled, not disabled. To keep in mind that we are not separate, and that by disregarding your dignity I also disregard mine. To never forget to hope... and to be a source of hope. To not just teach with passion, but to elicit and foster passion in others, so that they can live out their passions. Because the purpose of education goes beyond the 4 walls of a classroom.
Because we should all be in the "dignity business."
And so I say to all those children and families who have taught me the most important life lessons, and reminded me everyday about dignity: Namaste. I bow to you. The light in me honors the light in you.
To Gabe and his mother, Mrs. K: Thank you for what you've taught me through your compassion and gentleness.
Work is definitely one area in which there must be passion. Sure, there will always be moments of frustration, or moments of doubt, when the challenges are great. But at the end of the day, there must be passion. This is what gets us up in the morning.
I am fortunate that I have found something to be passionate about early on, and have since worked in the field of early childhood intervention. Years ago, in my first year of teaching, I learned a very valuable lesson from a child and family I worked with, about the inclusion of a child with a disability. That child, that family, and that particular experience was my first teacher. I am humbled to this day, and I owe them much gratitude for teaching me an important life lesson and inspiring me to become a better teacher... and more importantly, to teach with compassion and passion.
I recently had an opportunity to listen to Ann Turnbull, a well-respected professor, researcher, and national expert in the field of special education, through a "webinar" for educators and families. She herself is a parent of an individual with a disability, and she spoke about her son, who passed away last year at the age of 40. He developed a passion for music in early childhood, and this passion for music continued on throughout his adult years. This was her message to the audience of educators and families:
"What passions are you facilitating in the children that you teach, so that they can use this passion as a way to connect with others, to feel self-esteem... as a way to contribute, as a way to truly have a quality of life?"
Wow. That is a great challenge. It is a challenge that inspires: how do we take action from here?
She went on to say:
"Make room for genuine relationships."
And the most important lesson: "We are not just in the education business, or the rehabilitation business. We are in the dignity business."
These are important lessons, not just for the work we do to practice inclusion in classrooms, but beyond that. In yoga, we talk about yoga "off the mat" - we talk about how we "live" our yoga. Along the same lines, how do we "live" inclusion beyond the classroom? How do we truly include people of varying abilities in our lives, in our communities, so that they have dignity and quality of life?
So why am I writing about this?
Because I think that yoga - which by definition, is union - is also about inclusion. I am not separate from you, or you, or you. Which is why, at the end of a yoga practice, an instructor typically says, "Namaste." The word is derived from the Sanskrit namas, which means "I bow," and te, which means "to you," - "I bow to you." An extended translation is "The light in me honors the light in you" or "The divine in me honors the divine in you." Such beautiful, profound words - but made even more beautiful when it carries over to other parts of our lives: to our relationships, to our work, and everything else. Because what good is my spiritual practice, if it is not truly practiced?
So I am prompted, especially, to think about how I should try to live by these words in my work: to always remember that people are differently-abled, not disabled. To keep in mind that we are not separate, and that by disregarding your dignity I also disregard mine. To never forget to hope... and to be a source of hope. To not just teach with passion, but to elicit and foster passion in others, so that they can live out their passions. Because the purpose of education goes beyond the 4 walls of a classroom.
Because we should all be in the "dignity business."
And so I say to all those children and families who have taught me the most important life lessons, and reminded me everyday about dignity: Namaste. I bow to you. The light in me honors the light in you.
To Gabe and his mother, Mrs. K: Thank you for what you've taught me through your compassion and gentleness.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
seek passion
Ikebana at the North Carolina Arboretum
Passion makes the old medicine new:
Passion lops off the bough of weariness.
Passion is the elixir that renews:
how can there be weariness
when passion is present?
Oh, don't sigh heavily from fatigue:
seek passion, seek passion, seek passion!
- Rumi
How do we seek passion in our lives?
I chose to post these ikebana pictures, because it so clearly illustrates the idea of putting passion into what you are doing versus just doing it. Ikebana is not just a matter of shoving flowers into a vase. It's an art form that that requires one to be mindful, to be present. It requires both discipline and creative expression. It's an example that rules can coexist with passion. In many ways, it's how I would like to live my life.
Ikebana at the North Carolina Arboretum
Do we go from day to day on auto-pilot? Or do we immerse ourselves fully in every moment?
I just had an interesting conversation with someone today who said that she likes feeling "jazzed-up" in her work. I like that.
I have to admit, there have been times when I practiced yoga on auto-pilot. You know how it goes: inhale, sweep arms up overhead, exhale and fold forward, inhale to lengthen the spine, exhale to step feet back in plank, inhale in plank, exhale to lower. Inhale to upward dog, exhale to downward dog. Neglect how you feel, forget to breathe deeply, obsess about the time. Yes, I've been there.
When you do something often enough there is a tendency to do it automatically. To take shortcuts. It happens in day to day routines, and it happens in my yoga practice too.
It takes some reminding to make myself more fully aware of what kind of practice I need on any given day.
I've learned that it's so important to check in with myself at the beginning of each yoga practice. To just sit and breathe, and be aware of any physical sensations and yes, even emotions, that need attention. Whatever we feel inside, is usually manifested outside - in how we breathe, how we tighten our shoulders, how we tighten our jaw and facial muscles.
I've learned that those 5-10 minutes --of just sitting and practicing pranayama (breath work)--tells me a lot. Sometimes it tells me I need a flowing vinyasa sequence; sometimes it tells me to slow down with a softer, slower yin practice. Sometimes it tells me to sit and breathe some more; and sometimes it tells me that I need a deep, delicious relaxation in savasana. That time of sitting and breathing also reminds me to enjoy whatever I decide to do. To put passion into it. Whether it's a breath that goes deep into your belly, a nice spine-lengthening downward dog or a rhythmic, flowing vinyasa. I've been in classes with instructors who tell you to close your eyes during a sun salutation. I think that helps me really feel the poses -- the movements, the transitions, and the pauses. It helps me put passion into it.
The same goes for whatever else we do in life... seek passion!
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