Savasana

I recently went to an amazing workshop at Bloom with Leslie Howard called The Last Savasana. Leslie focuses on both pelvic floor yoga and Savasana. The parts of the body related to creation and birth, and the pose related to death. She’s got us covered full circle. 😉

She created space for a topic a lot of people avoid discussing: death.

Both of my parents, my father-in-law, and my uncle died within an 18-month span in 2020–2021. Just as life would start to feel a little normal again, someone else died. Lots of real-world experience with Savasana. Not to mention a global pandemic. Yikes.

Fortunately, I was able to get back east in time to be with my dad for three nights before he passed, since it was before the pandemic shutdown. (And I was prepared for the realities of the process thanks to an incredible book, Advice for Future Corpses (and Those Who Love Them) by Sallie Tisdale.)

According to his doctor, my dad was in a “deep coma.” But my cousin and I noticed that he responded to conversation and other inputs. You could feel his energy shift depending on the people in the room, and he responded with tears when we played one of his favorite Byzantine hymns. It was an incredibly sad time, and also a fascinating one.

He was here, and he was somewhere else.

Not unlike Savasana at the end of a yoga class.

In class, Savasana is more than just relaxing and zoning out at the end of practice. It’s a way to practice pratyahara (sensory withdrawal): to calm your mind and nervous system, to release into an in-between space, to feel how your yoga practice can reflect a life cycle. Just think about the end of a yoga class, and how you often you roll out of Savasana into fetal pose.

Leslie’s workshop was beautiful and life-affirming. When we think about death, we tend to think of practical things: powers of attorney, living wills, lists of accounts. All good details to gather and pass along to your loved ones, but what about the things that really matter? Is there anyone you want to talk to, or reconcile with, before you die? Do you have any unfinished business? What do you want your legacy to be? What teachings or qualities do you hope to pass on to your loved ones?

She had us move through different versions of Savasana, with journaling prompts along the way to consider these life legacy aspects.

Now that my son is a young adult, my husband and I have been updating our estate plan, and it was so meaningful to think about the non-administrative side — to get clarity on what I want our kid to know, beyond the emergency items like “where to find the account info” and “who to notify.”

The journaling helped me picture it all, like a little movie.

As I continue to process the loss of my loved ones, the workshop gave me space to grieve — and to realize how grateful I am that, at this point in my life, Savasana is a symbolic pose only! One that gives me time to rest, to spend a little time “in between” and come back with renewed perspective on how I want to live.

(Thank you to Zac Taheriyan on Unsplash for the photo.)

Yoga and Ch-ch-ch-changes

Our bodies change and evolve. Consider how yoga can support the body you are inhabiting today. Learning to listen to your body can help you give it the support it needs (the support YOU need) through many phases of life.

People say that our bodies are metaphors. And that our bodies help us process emotions. The older I get, the more true this seems. Tuning into my body is tuning in to my self. In yoga philosophy, the physical practice of yoga is a way to access deeper layers of your self. (For more on that, look up The 5 Koshas, or read the amazing Light on Life by B.K.S. Iyengar.)

You do not need to seek freedom in a different land, for it exists with your own body, heart, mind, and soul.
― B.K.S. Iyengar, Light on Life

I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels like I’ve lived in many versions of my body. A self-conscious teenage body. An adult body that’s known many sizes and weights. A pregnant body with a ravenous baby in the belly. A postpartum, relaxin-filled, breastfeeding body. A perimenopausal body with musculoskeletal glitches. And now, a menopausal body that feels more strong and balanced than ever—thanks to a year of weight training alongside consistent yoga.

My yoga practice has evolved as much as my body has. In my 30s, I was ambitious—both in my career and in achieving more challenging poses. During pregnancy and childbirth, the meditative aspects and breathwork were invaluable. As a busy mom, I craved Gentle Yoga to create space and grounding. In high-stress “sandwich generation” times, Restorative Yoga helped soothe my nervous system, so I could stay present and support others.

One of my teachers, now in her 80s, often reminds us to thank our bodies—to notice how lucky we are to simply be able to show up and move in whatever way works today.

Our bodies change every day, sometimes moment to moment. As a teacher, I want to help you drop into your body. To notice, appreciate, and care for—maybe even love—the body you’re in right now.

”You don’t need to earn rest.”

”You don’t need to earn rest.” is my favorite quote — and concept — from Gentle and Restorative yoga teacher training with Kerry Maiorca. In our always-connected, overly-busy world, it’s important that we give ourselves permission to rest.

Our value as humans is not in our productivity. Allowing ourselves (our bodies and our minds) to rest is about showing ourselves compassion. Quality rest helps us feel good, be more creative, and function better in all aspects of life. It’s true that you can’t pour from an empty cup, or as some say in the business world, sometimes you have to “slow down to go fast.”

You can’t make yourself be compassionate. You can only keep stepping back and becoming a larger container in which compassion wants to live. The practice should open us up, and crack open our hearts again and again.
–Judith Hanson Lasater

(Photo adapted from Wouter De Praetere on Unsplash. Thank you!)

What if you made a Restorative Resolution?

Collage with nnotes about Being vs. Doing, Joy setting up a student in a restorative pose, a coffee mug that says "Less is More", and a "no hustle culture" instagram image — all ©Outside-In Studio LLC

This time of year, we’re flooded with messages about doing more — work out more, eat better, be more productive. Resolutions tend to be about improving yourself through action.

In my classes this month, I’m inviting people to think about it differently.

Instead of a resolution about DOing, what if you made one about BEing?

We live in a culture where it’s easy to feel like we should always be doing more. But we can choose to counter that. To stop “shoulding” on ourselves.

Consider what animals do in winter: they hibernate. Nature slows down, and we are part of nature. This is a season of rest and reflection; an invitation to notice that natural rhythm and actually participate in it.

So as the busy-ness of the holidays fades and a new year opens up, I invite you to make a different kind of resolution. One rooted in being rather than doing.

Maybe you want to BE more present — for yourself, your colleagues, your loved ones. Maybe you want to feel centered and grounded, even when your kid is having a meltdown or work is overwhelming. Maybe you want to release patterns or beliefs that no longer serve you. Or maybe you want to create small pockets of stillness where you can hear your own intuition instead of talking yourself out of it.

Things don’t change overnight. But incremental progress is still progress.

Let these ideas percolate. Give your body and mind time to process. Over the coming days or weeks, create some quiet space to listen inward, and you’ll know what your restorative resolution is.