Saying Goodbye

I've been rolling this post around in my head for the past twenty-six days, since my aunt died. Each day my thoughts have grown and developed and on some occasions caused floods of tears to crash over me.

My dear aunt, Marguerite Broyles, died on December 6, 2011. That hard fact crushes my heart every time I acknowledge it. Today the fact that we've started a new year and she isn't in seems unbelievably daunting.

On the other hand I'm am so grateful to have had a wonderful relationship with her and countless memories of joy and love. While her cancer was brutal, it provided an opportunity for me to spend more time with her over the last two and a half years than I would have otherwise. We did yoga and energy work, had pedicures, ate yummy lunches, read poetry, laughed, cried, and spent many hours exploring the meaning of it all. She was also able to get to know my boys even better and inspire and foster their own creativity.

In October we had a little send off party for her as she ended her cancer treatments and headed off to get the most out of the time she had left. Along with laughing, eating, wearing sparkly bracelets and bindis, we wrote her a note on sweet little scrolls my stellar shopper cousin discovered. It was hard to get started, knowing it might be the last thing I ever wrote to her.

I laughed at myself as I realized all the memories I was writing were about food...a giant (to my little girl eyes) wooden bowl full of cherries in her kitchen, summertime Coke Slurpies on the way to lake in the huge Pontiac Bonneville I would later drive as a teenager, crusty bread and chunk of Jarlsberg cheese, Christmas Eve shrimp (in my pre-vegetarian days), and biscuits and egg gravy on Christmas mornings, yum!

When just over a month later we realized she was in her last days, I was so fortunate (thanks Mom!) to be able to spend a few days with her holding her hand, chanting to her, giving her Jin Shin treatments and just being with her. I was also blessed to spend those days with my dear cousins, my other fabulous Aunt and Uncle, and playing princess and doing "crafts" with her darling granddaughter, Madi.

After returning home we decorated for Christmas and the many holiday gifts she had given us over the years flowed out of our storage boxes. My aunt was a gifted artist and had a knack for finding or creating fabulous holiday decorations of which I was so often the benefactor. It was lovely putting them out, honoring her gift with each placement.

The kicker came this weekend as I began taking down the decorations. It was as if I was saying goodbye with each item I packed away, a task for which I was not prepared. Talk about an opportunity to practice letting go!!

I'd been in an emotional fog for the past few weeks, having noticed Christmas Eve that it had lifted when I hadn't even really known it was there in the first place. I just knew I could only process a day or two at a time, so planning for holiday gatherings was a bit of a challenge.

The process of packing away each item, each little piece of her, allowed me to truly grieve and release so many of those tears that had been waiting around for me to notice them. I was both heartbroken and full of gratitude, knowing that each year all of those pieces of her will return to our home surrounding us in her light and beauty.

Now, as I walk around my house I continue to see her everywhere, in places I hadn't noticed in awhile. The little driftwood house on the mantel made from her beloved beach in Puerto Morales. The metal and rock person sitting above the desk from her scrounging through hardware store days. The quote on the bathroom wall - "Go in the direction of your dreams, the universe will support you." The countless beaded necklaces and bracelets she made me for my birthdays over the years. The art she made from a silly conversation with my boys this fall, "Peace, it's what's for dinner," and "Got Peace?" And finally the Colorado key chain she made in the 1980's that I touch and carry with me every day. Her diverse and boundless creative inspiration has decorated my life.

In the hospital one day during her battle with the ovarian cancer, that finally took her life but ironically gave me many wonderful hours with her, she asked me why everyone kept coming to see her. She was truly astonished that she meant so much to so many. I told her, "It's because you accept us all as we are, unconditionally."

She was that person for so many of us. The one whose face lights up when she sees you, has nothing but good things to say about you, is always interested in and excited about what you are doing, and who never doubts that your dreams can come true. She had her many flaws as all of us do, but she was perfectly herself and we couldn't ask for anything more. We all need that person in our lives who gives us the gift of loving us for our true authentic selves. I am honored and grateful and blessed to have had her as my adventurous, creative, smiling, laughing, dancing, singing, amazing aunt. 

I am saying goodbye to her body, but not to her spirit. It lives on through her beautiful art and through each of us. May we pass that grace on to others in our lives, offering a shining light to them.

With gratitude and love, Namaste my dear Aunt Mag.

Lightness into Darkness into Lightness

I had the pleasure this evening of practicing yoga with and listening to the teachings of Yogi Amrit Desai, Gurudev. As he spoke I frequently thought of my boys and how I can live my life in way that will impart some of these teachings to them.

As Gurudev spoke this evening he reminded us that light wouldn't be light without darkness and vice versa. He noted that light and dark do not fight and resist at sunrise and sunset, they simple shift from one to the other.

Within ourselves we fight darkness, our fears and weaknesses, by judging, comparing, and belittling ourselves - fighting darkness with more darkness. Instead we need to release our fears and be in the darkness in order to let in the light through our breath and being present in our bodies fully accepting where we are without judgment. When we practice this on the mat, we can take it out into the world.

I find that we often fight against being where we are by wanting to have more, be different, feel better, etc. Gurudev taught tonight that the more we seek and grasp, the less we are connected to ourselves.

As they continue to grow and face the ups and downs of life, I hope to support my boys in being where they are as they are, trusting in themselves, listening to their inner voice, and staying connected with their true selves.  The best way I can do this is to honor them where they are in each moment and to practice honoring myself as well. Easier said than done many days. :)

These teachings reminded me of the quote from the Buddha which has been in the forefront of my mind recently, "Hatred never ceases by hatred, but by love alone is healed. This is an ancient and eternal truth." To paraphrase this in the teachings of Gurudev tonight, darkness never ceases by darkness, but by light alone is healed.

Be where you are, accept the darkness and open to the light.
Namaste

Perfect Moment Monday: Finding Bliss

I've been reading Fire of Love which has beautiful direction for yoga teachers to add a deeper level into teaching. I have found it inspiring and added one aspect to my class Saturday morning with lovely results.

After our pranayama (breathwork) practice I asked my students to place the fingers of their right hand at their heart center and turn inward finding their inner smile. Once connected, I instructed them to allow the sense of joy to radiate through their chest and upward to their faces.

After a few breaths I peeked my eyes open and scanned the room. Every student had the most lovely, relaxed, blissful smile upon their face. Mine radiated even bigger, both inside and on my face, seeing how this small gesture brought peace and ananda (bliss) to my students with such ease.

Try it yourself ~ find your inner smile and little moment of bliss.

Namaste

Expectations

(photo credit)

Expectations can get us into hot water quickly. When we expect someone to behave in a certain manner and they don't, we feel confused, disappointed, and often hurt. Even when the change in behavior is positive, the unexpected divergence from the norm can throw us off.

I begin each of my yoga classes with a moment of brushing away our worries and expectations. I began to wonder today what expectations my yoga students may hold onto, what ones I hold onto, and how this impacts our experiences. Each class I teach evolves on its own as I integrate ideas I bring with the needs expressed by my students. For me it is a lovely dance of balance, trust, and inspiration.  I can only offer who I am, I have no control over (nor any desire to have) how anyone incorporates what I say and do into their lives.

There is a strange dichotomy in my life related to this. In yoga I simply offer the class for people to take whatever they need with no strings attached. But in my parenting and the trainings I offer as a school social worker, I expect my children and my staff to take away what I am specifically teaching them.

When I offer what I have without being attached to the outcome as in yoga, I feel at peace. When those offerings are made with attachment to the outcome, I so often feel frustrated and discouraged.

Hmmmmm...

Can I parent and teach in other realms as I do in yoga? Practicing aparigraha, non-attachment, non-clinging, allowing my children and staff to take what they need without being attached to the outcome. Honoring where they are rather than expecting them to be somewhere they are not. Allowing them to integrate the information as it makes sense for them.

I read weekly from Pema Chodron's Start Where You Are during mediation class and have just realized while writing this that I have compartmentalized the teaching of that title to my yoga life and forgotten to carry it into the rest of my life. Yoga is more than our time on the mat, it is how we live our lives united our minds and bodies, being present and honoring where we are and others are at any given moment.


So with gentleness and lovingkindness, as I always tell my students, I notice this. I will strive to keep it in the forefront of my perceptions, being more aware of my expectations and how they impact my interactions and reactions. May you as well.

Namaste

Stealing

Stealing is one of those things I have always thought of as clear cut and simple. Then, this week Michelle used Asteya - sanskrit for non-stealing - as our meditation focus. One of the affirmations she shared related to asteya was "I am whole and complete." As I contemplated this, I realized that stealing does not always related to a concrete item being taken.

We steal confidence from ourselves when we call ourselves stupid, judge ourselves harshly, or decide something about us is not good enough. When we dissect ourselves, accepting only what we see as good or attractive, we cannot be whole and complete. When we rely on others to provide approval for who we are, we steal from our sense of self-worth. We all have strengths and weaknesses and together they make us who we are.

As parents we unwittingly steal from our children when we fail to acknowledge the many things they do well and criticize their mistakes too harshly. We teach them to steal confidence from themselves as well by creating those negative messages that live in their minds and hearts.

Of course we will be critical and will need to redirect, reteach, and determine consequences for negative behavior at times. But when I look through the lens of asteya, I am encouraged even more to take those extra seconds to think about my words with care, to keep mistakes in perspective, and to acknowledge and apologize when I am wrong.

I want my children to lift up themselves and those with whom they interact. Therefore, I must model this for them at every opportunity. Whether it is showing gentleness with myself, with them, or with others, modeling lovingkindness and understanding teaches them not to steal someone else's confidence and self-worth as well as to value and nurture their own.

May we all awaken to the light of our true nature, fill our hearts with lovingkindness for ourselves, and spread it in all that we do.
Namaste

None of us get out of it alive

This is a quote from my aunt today, "None of us get out of it alive." What is it, you may ask? Life. Oh, the irreverence!!! And the laughter that followed.

We will all die at some point, we just don't know when that will be.  The question then arises ~ how do we live each day fully while still acknowledging our mortality and the fact that we could die at any time?

My aunt and I struggled with this question today as we discussed her cancer prognosis. It seems to be a paradox, but it reminds me of the yogic teachings of non-clinging, aparigraha. Accepting what is without holding on. Being present without trying to control the outcome of our actions. 

I had a visual image of walking a line and leaning from to the left, then right; moving from light to dark; from hopeful to hopeless. Then more irreverence..."weebles wobble, but they don't fall down." We all wobble along that line every day, although sometimes we dip too far into one side or the other, drowning in denial or darkness.

As I think about my life, I am reminded that truly all I have is this moment. Nothing else is guaranteed. Whether the moment is full of laughter and joy, pain and sorrow, or something in between, this moment is the only one I have. It can be difficult to stay present when I'm tired, frustrated, and at the end of my rope. It's easy to escape into drama, self-pity, or blaming others.

But what can I teach my children by practicing staying present, being in the moment, recognizing when to let things go? I can teach them trust, acceptance, and love. My daily struggles and successes as a mom and human being can be lessons for them and me.

I can teach them to honor and savor each moment, to rejoice in what they have, to know that they are loved, and that their love and lives make a difference to others.

It often takes the reality of loss to help us cherish what we have because it is so hard to wobble along that line, feeling each moment fully.

May this remind you (and me) to notice this moment and all that it has to offer, then with lovingkindness gently release it as we step into the next moment, should it be there.

Namaste

Truthfulness

Teaching truthfulness to my children has been an interesting and complicated journey. It seemed so easy at the outset - always tell the truth. But as they got a little older we began to set limits about telling the whole truth, such as when they said to someone, "You're fat." It is the truth, but then we taught them that we don't have to say everything we think even if it is the truth. There are also more tactful ways to tell the truth that don't hurt people's feelings. This gets a bit confusing when you're a little kid.

Then there are surprises. Is it lying when you tell a story to set up a surprise birthday party? It is, but it's for a good cause, right? Well, what about when my son's good cause is so he doesn't get in trouble? Same reasoning, but...

Telling the truth when it's hard to tell is especially tricky, for parents and kids.

When there's shaving cream all over the bathroom andmy son really wants to stay out of trouble because he was just being curious, that is a hard truth to tell.

When my son said he was doing his homework, but was really playing games on the computer and doesn't want to lose his new computer, that is a hard truth to tell.

When we were all looking forward to a trip and realized we couldn't go because we had to spend the money on house repairs, that was a hard truth to tell.

When my Grandma's cancer spread through her body and her choices were to live longer miserably or shorter more comfortably and I had to tell my boys she was going to die soon, that was a heart wrenching truth to tell.

I try to be a good model for truthfulness by admitting when I make mistakes and explaining why we are doing what we're doing. My biggest struggle is not overreacting to my children's mistakes so they will continue to tell the truth, even when it's hard.

Truthfulness in yogic philosophy is called Satya. It pervades every aspect of our lives from answering a simple "How are you?" to owning up to a big mistake. Our children are watching us and learning. No matter what we are saying to them they follow our actions, so we have to act thoughtfully.

Living with an open heart

Living with an open heart...seems so easy on the surface. Be open, accepting, compassionate...easy in those moments of comfort...harder in those moments of difficulty.

In meditation and yoga we often talk about opening our hearts, letting go of barriers, being compassionate to all. In those brief peaceful moments it feels attainable. Yet when we go out into the world and face the challenges of our daily lives, keeping an open heart is a challenge.

When frustrated or angry, my response is often to shut down my heart, build a barrier, and refuse to feel compassionate. Those habitual patterns seem easier than facing the difficulties within myself or my relationships. But, as Pema Chodron says, if I do something different, anything different, I can change those patterns and keep my heart open.

Sometimes its as simple as breathing...yet simple as it is, it is often difficult to do. Sometimes it's laughing at the absurdity of the situation or of my own response to it. Mostly it's letting go of my expectations, changing my perspective, and softening the rigidity that sets in when facing difficulties.

Taking a moment to put myself in the shoes of the other person, trying to see things from their perspective, is a huge part of my practice of compassion. A friend recently asked me if understanding the other person's situation justifies their inappropriate behavior. I of course said no, but if I can keep my heart open to understand and feel compassion for a person who has hurt me or someone I care about, then perhaps the next time I make a huge mistake or a small misstep I can be compassionate with myself as well. We all know we are harder on ourselves than anyone else and compassion must start within.

So why try to live with an open heart? It is, after all, a difficult journey. I believe that through practicing living with an open heart, mistakes and all along the way, that I can change the world one moment of compassion at a time. I can teach and model this for my children, pass it on to those with whom I interact every day, and have positive impact on the world. Idealistic, yes. I don't expect to change everything and everyone, but those little ripples and waves of compassion flowing out into the universe will grow and influence each life they touch.

Practicing what I teach

In every yoga class I teach I encourage my students to listen to their bodies, pushing themselves to their edge but not beyond it. I share this same lesson with my children, helping them to notice and understand the messages their bodies give them. And then...

...and then I busily run around working on a bazillion different projects not paying attention to my own body's messages such as nearly falling asleep while writing at the computer, puffy tired eyes when I wake up, and a need for too much Awake tea everyday to name a few examples, until my body has enough and decides to let me know in a bit louder voice that enough is enough and I need to rest, really rest.

So on Monday morning when my sweet husband awakened me I was quickly greeted by a headache. Now I get headaches fairly often and didn't think too much of it. I usually press on, drink  water, maybe a bit of caffiene, do some yoga and energy work and it usually settles out.

Not this time. Moments after getting out of bed I realized that bed was the only place I was going to be that day. Not just a little annoyance of a headache this time, but a nausea inducing, eye piercing, room spinning, sound and movement sensitive migraine. My body was no longer saying slow down and take a rest, it said STOP! in no uncertain terms. So, finally, I listened (what choice did I have at this point) and I stopped.

I stopped for the entire day, barely dragging myself out of bed at midday to try to eat something and continued to rest or sleep until late afternoon. I was still not quite myself until the next morning, but in all that stopping and resting I remember that lesson I say everyday and remembered I have to practice what I teach. Listening to, respecting, and honoring my body's messages. Trusting that when I do, I am healthier, happier, and more grounded than when I run around like a chicken with my head cut off ignoring that fact entirely.

Again I am reminded this is a practice. Yoga and life. We don't always get it right and sometimes we need a siren instead of a whisper to notice. But we can laugh, be gentle with ourselves, and practice some more.

Namaste

Yoga teachers in the making

We had so much fun at our family yoga class this week. I am definitely not the only yoga teacher in the family! My boys are naturals.

Walking Stick has been coming to my Saturday morning adult classes and taught tree pose nearly verbatim to how I teach it in class. He sounded like he been teaching it for years, giving all the variations and options for extensions.

Giggle Box's expertise was helping with alignment. He was able to see the slight postural changes that could help someone improve their pose or make the adjustment I had given verbally. He is not always able to feel that in himself, but could easily see it in others.

When they were younger I was often frustrated in our family yoga classes because they would want to take over and change the directions I was giving. Before we started this session, I talked with them about this frustration. Giggle Box told me that he thought he was the teacher of the class and that is why he was always trying to take over. Too bad I didn't get it sooner, but this time we planned for them to have some leadership and it made all the difference.

It was a good lesson for me to remember that I don't always have to be the director. I've got two fabulous leaders growing before my eyes and they have a lot to teach me as well.

Laughing too much?

Occasionally my boys tell me that I laugh too much and wonder if I'll ever stop laughing. (Although, they also say other people don't laugh enough and they certainly don't like it when I don't laugh and get cranky!) When it's just us, apparently all this laughing is not a big deal. However, when the friends are around...sometimes we get a little self-conscious.

This morning as we chatted in the hall with one of the friends, my little one leaned in and whispered, "Don't embarrass me, Mom." I whispered back, "How would I do that?" He replied, "By laughing too much." I reigned it in a bit and wondered to myself, "Doesn't he remember I'm Laughing Yoga Mama?" LOL

But seriously, it was a good reminder for me that sometimes I can be overwhelming with my big laugh and personality. School is his place, so I'm a bit more of a background than center stage. He's Mr. Charisma in the classroom and I don't want to upstage him. When he's missing me or needs a boost, though, he is more than willing to put on a big show with me. Like at the end of the day when barrels toward me at full tilt or jumping up to hug me when I visit the classroom to help out.

I am most appreciative (and hope I can take just a teensy bit of credit for it) that my sweet little boy leaned in with a respectful whisper to handle his worry, instead of any number of other less kind ways he could have handled his feelings. I'm so glad he appreciates his laughing yoga mama, but can ask for quiet yoga mama when he needs her.

Grasshopper and the beginner's mind

As I watch my boys find the wonder in a grasshopper hanging on the edge of a chair on our patio, I am reminded of the openness of a child's mind and spirit. My sweet boys have shown me this so many times over the years, although I do not always recognize it right away.

My youngest son and I went walking at a nature preserve this morning. As we strolled along the path the scent of sun warmed earth washed over me, bringing me back to my childhood. I stopped and brought the scent to my son's attention. He drew in a deep breath through his nose and said, "Mom, that smells wonderful!" Then, to my surprise, he told me he was really wanting to cry and was trying to hold back his tears. When I inquired as to why, he replied, "It's just so beautiful." Then my tears began to flow with him.

It is easy to forget that our children have not had all of the experiences we have had. It is easy to discount their wonder. It is so utterly fulfilling to step inside that wonder to see a grasshopper hanging on the edge of the chair as if for the first time again.

Being present in this moment with our beginner's mind. Remembering we have seen grasshoppers and smelled the earth many times in our lives, but we have not see this grasshopper or smelled this patch of earth in this moment ever before. Allowing ourselves to see, hear, feel, and touch whatever our experiences are free of the judgement and expectations that prevent us from being fully present.

Allowing vs. struggling

I've been reading a book that was sitting on my bed stand collecting dust for longer than I care to admit (so I won't) called Stretching Lessons by Sue Bender. It leaped out at me from the shelf at Barnes and Nobles some time ago so I bought it. Apparently, I've been a bit resistive to reading it as I've even packed it on a few trips, but never managed to crack it open...until this week of course. I guess we really can only hear (or in this case read) the things we need to when we are really ready.

The content that has struck a chord with me is Sue's realization that she continually struggles for all of her successes, even when she doesn't need to. She discusses taking a "stretching class" and is opened to the possibility of allowing things to happen rather than struggling with them.

As I struggle with the demands and challenges of motherhood, I am realizing that I really do too often struggle. This seems especially true as the boys get older. I'm pushing and pulling and trying to get to some destination that apparently is not such a big priority for everyone else. This concept of allowing instead of struggling seems like a good next step to practice. I'm pretty good at the struggling, so a new skill seems like a good idea.

As I listened to one of my favorite authors, Pema Chodron, today this concept came up again. She described how everything becomes so small and narrow when we have pain and struggle against it rather than facing it. This is so amazingly true! My view is unbelieveably narrow when the sock on the floor, the dishes on the counter, or the time on the clock are the only things I can see. My vision without my glasses really is nearsighted, but I can apparently still be nearsighted even with my glasses on!

So, how do I go about practicing allowing? I guess the first step is to notice when I'm struggling. From there I can begin to step back, broaden my perspective, open my heart, and practice allowing. I'm thinking laughing is going to be a big part of this process. Laughing at myself and the crazy things I get worked up about will be a great first step. Onward, I go...(giggle, giggle)

Mama's voice

So I have my annual back to school cold that is starting to drop down into my vocal chords and turn into laryngitis. This is the fourth year in a row this has happened and I am beginning to wonder what it is the universe is trying to tell me with this ailment. I have clearly not gotten it so far!

Is it about finding my voice, using my voice, not using my voice, listening to my inner voice, listening and not talking...the possibilities seem endless.

Goodness know my boys hear my voice enough, maybe too much! That's a vote for the listening more, talking less.

I've been searching for way to find and share my voice through writing, like this blog. Maybe that's it, more writing. I do enjoy sharing all the nutty adventures of my boys and the amazing insight with which they provide me and I hope you readers enjoy it, too.

I use my voice to teach yoga - lots of talking, but just started teaching a meditation class this week - no talking. Maybe that balance of talking/no talking is it.

The vocal chords are at the fifth chakra.  "5th Chakra: Throat: Tied to creativity and communication.
Feels pressure when you are not communicating your emotions properly." (from http://www.crystalinks.com/chakras.html) That seems pretty interesting.

Lots to ponder as I begin my time of a quiet voice. At least my fingers can't get laryngitis and I can still write!

If you have any thoughts, please share. :)

Still a rookie mom

I came across a book today called The Rookie Mom's Handbook. It is based on a blog by two moms who share ideas about things to do with your baby throughout the first year. As I pondered this very cute and entertaining guide, I began to wonder when we move on from being rookie moms?

When my oldest son was born everything that happened was new and I felt like I faced each day's challenges in a very mindful and present manner. I definitely knew I was a rookie mom. When my second son was born I realized that while I had the experiences from my first son, I couldn't do things exactly the same because he was a different child and had different needs. I found that when I would get frustrated I was often expecting my son to act or respond differently than he was. I wasn't being present in that moment, I was expecting it to be like some other moment I had experienced or wished for. I didn't always look like a rookie mom to others, but I was definitely a rookie at being a mom to my second son and a rookie at being a mom of two.

In some meditation traditions we are taught to practice staying in our beginner's mind. This concept helps us to keep ourselves in the present moment, rather than slipping into old patterns. If we are in our beginner's mind, all experiences are new and unique. We can be observant and make choices based on the current situation without dragging in all of our history. I think a rookie mom perspective is very much a beginner's mind perspective.

Even though my sons are nine and seven, I still feel like a rookie mom much of the time. They continue to grow and change and every day is full of new experiences. The days are also full of experiences that are very familiar like getting ready for school, eating meals, preparing for bed, etc. The challenge through those familiar tasks is to maintain that rookie mom or beginner's mind perspective. If I can do that and remain present in the current moment, I can respond to my children as they are right now in this moment with compassion. When I forget to "be here, now," I find myself much less compassionate and much more impatient.

Parenting is a practice, just as yoga and meditation are practices. We practice every day beginning where we are, listening to the messages our bodies (and our children) send us, and knowing that each time we practice we are a little bit different. Each day, each practice is different, even though much of it feels familiar. Be present. Be here, now. Breath by breath. Moment by moment. Just be.

Dancing boys make my day

As our mundane morning routine was coming to an end today, my oldest son decided to show me his "favorite dance move." It resembled MC Hammer back in the day and gave me a good chuckle. Not to be outdone, son number two joined in the hip hop fest with his latest smooth moves. Then the real fun began...

(When I'm off teaching yoga on Tuesday nights, the boys have been enjoying America's Got Talent with Dad. Apparently, this is the inspiration for what I witnessed next.)

The boys began an improvised, synchronized dance routine. They slide across the floor, twisted, spun, engaged in robotic movements, and channeled the Temptations and the Jackson Five as they found their funk and rhythm. As I watched them my grin kept growing and the giggles from all of us filled the house.

After great applause for their effort, we laughed and hugged together and headed off for the rest of the day. So glad they didn't have to rush off to school yet because I might just have forgotten to enjoy the moment and swept them off to get ready. The image of their dancing kept me going through a cranky day at work.

Be here, now...this is always part of my yoga teaching. Just as salient, if not more so, in my parenting.