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birth, Body, doula, Honesty, Practice

A Year of Birthwork in Review

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January 11, 2018

- birth, Body, doula, Honesty, Practice

In 2016, while meditating on my personal and professional development, and contemplating my desire to be of greater service, the word just kind of popped into my head… “doula.” My heart jumped a bit when I said the word aloud to myself, and I felt a spark jump in my belly. Why it came to me in that moment, I can’t explain, but it stayed with me. I sat with it silently for a week before I even started researching. A month later, I ordered Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth, and registered for my first birth doula training. On January 14th, 2017, I attended my first birth as a doula. It was a beautiful and transformative experience, from which I learned an incredible amount. Most importantly, I learned that birthwork just feels… right for me. Each birth that has followed has been beautiful in new and truly amazing ways, and I am in awe of just how much I can find myself inspired, and also flooded with new information and new questions each time. Every birth reignites the same spark I that felt the first moment the word “doula,” came to me. For the past year I have been relatively quiet about these experiences, but not due to lack of passion. The work and study I have found myself a part of in this past year are just, simply put, sacred. While it is important to me to keep much of what I experience with my clients confidential, I see the value in sharing stories in order to remove the stigma surrounding birth. Many of the people I interact with who are family-building feel isolated from their friends, colleagues, and communities. So much of fertility, pregnancy, birth, and the postpartum period is seen as taboo in our society – a truly ridiculous view to have on processes that very literally give meaning to life; our individual origin stories. For me, it has been impossible to separate birthwork from social justice. In my mind and heart, this is radical and subversive work. Since I began my studies, I have found myself regularly infuriated by everything from the exclusive and assumptive language that is used in perinatal care, to the unbelievably racially disproportionate statistics on maternal mortality in the US. Considering all of the above, I am mindful before I speak, post, or publish anything about my birthwork practice, because – as always – I hope to capture the love in birth, not to perpetuate the culture of fear that too often surrounds it. As with anything sacred, I believe that birth should be revered, and not discussed in vain. So in a humble attempt to avoid exploitation… here is my brief public reflection on my past year as a full-spectrum doula: Every Birth is the Right Birth There is no wrong way to build a healthy, happy family. I do believe it is important to educate yourself, and to prepare for labor to the best of your ability. Arm yourself with information. Build a toolbox. And then breathe through the ride. I don’t believe in strict birth plans; I believe in labor preferences. Ask questions. Be flexible. It doesn’t matter whether you choose to labor standing, crouching, or laying down; at home, a birth center, or in a hospital; with or without medication – as long as you’ve prepared yourself, stood up for your preferences, and have your baby in your arms at the end of labor. We can give power back That being said, we can give power back to those in labor. We can stop treating pregnancy like an illness, and labor like a medical emergency. As a doula, my job is to empower; to educate my clients so that they can form their preferences, and then to give them the tools to express their preferences to their partner/family/primary caregiver. We, as a collective can give power back by not imposing our beliefs, experiences, or opinions on others who are building their own families. It is always right to just hold space As the doulas, friends, partners, siblings, parents, colleagues, community members… of those who are having children, the most powerful thing we can do is hold space. Be dependable. Answer the phone, invite them to tea, or show up with dinner prepared. Ask them to share their experiences, whether they’re pregnant now, or had children over a decade ago – and then actually listen. What are they feeling in their pregnant body? Or, what was the birth of their first child like? How long was the adoption process for them? Or, how many rounds of IVF did they go through?  These are the conversations that will slowly, but surely, shift the cultural narrative of what it means to be pregnant/labor/give birth/breastfeed or bottlefeed/raise a child/build a family. Listening to another person describe their most human experiences will make us each more human in our own right. Holding space in the labor room heals birth stories. Holding space for new parents will heal humanity.
That’s all for now & thank you for reading. Look for more from me in 2018, including a pieces on “Why hire a doula?” “What does it mean to be a full-spectrum doula?” and also specific birth stories and reflections (always with permission, often in collaboration).  
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Practice, Yoga

What “Intermediate Yoga” Means to Me

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September 23, 2017

- Practice, Yoga

Every time I teach an Intermediate Yoga class, I begin class the same way – with class agreements. After covering any agreements that may be part of studio policy, like those regarding hands-on adjustments, we briefly set agreements around what it means to participate in an intermediate practice. “This is intermediate practice. While we may approach advancing asana and transitions in this class, most importantly, you are the intermediate practitioner. This means that you know yourSelf best – when to modify, use props, or take a particular variation; when to rest; and when to ask questions. Please feel free to ask questions. Does that sound good to everyone?” The expectation of most students when they see the word “intermediate” listed beside a class is that the class will be physically challenging and require inversions, “deep backbends,” and olympic-gymnast-levels of strength and flexibility. This can intimidate people from trying a class that could be appropriate for them. When I lead an intermediate practice, I offer progressions towards advancing asana, but the asana itself isn’t always the focus. The focus always includes self-study and repeatedly asking of yourself, “why?” Why do I want to bind here? At what cost do I progress further in this posture? Am I breathing? Am I content? Am I practicing with purpose?   In a led class, Intermediate Yoga is made intermediate by the practitioner, not by the practice offered. Who, then, is the intermediate practitioner?
  • The intermediate practitioner’s practice looks different each time they are on the mat. Just because particular pose, transition, or pranayama exercise has been introduced into the practice, doesn’t mean it needs to be performed each time they are in class. One day they may float gracefully from a handstand into chaturanga through every sun salutation, and the next they may opt-out of chaturanga entirely.
  • The intermediate practitioner doesn’t decide what their practice will contain until they arrive. The pace and intensity of the practice isn’t decided upon ahead of time. They decide purposefully how physically or energetically strenuous their practice needs to be once they arrive within it. There is no aim, no attachment to a single peak pose, and no goal other than to experience.
  • The intermediate practitioner works to find balance between discipline and honesty. This is perhaps the most challenging element of practice, in my experience. This is the repeated question of “why?” The intermediate practitioner knows their own disposition well enough to know if they tend to go easy on themselves, and require an extra disciplined push, or if they tend to overwork and overstrain, even on a day when rest would be beneficial to them. They then work to find balance between discipline and honesty (not always successfully). Intermediate yoga becomes a practice in holding oneself accountable.
  • The intermediate practitioner isn’t afraid to ask for help. If they have chosen to come to a group class, they have the benefit of a teacher witnessing their practice. They ask the teacher questions. They learn to support those practicing around them, and to be supported in return. They reach for a prop when it can serve as a meaningful tool.
  • The intermediate practitioner knows that any amount of the pose is still the pose.  Enough said.
  • The intermediate practitioner may use the practice as a form of self-expression. Maybe these moments are fleeting, but there are times at which the practice feels as creative as any movement art, and as inspired as any contemplative endeavor.
  • The intermediate practitioner, has a knowledge, or at least a sense that the yoga practice goes deeper than asana-based yoga. While it is not necessary to a understanding of the eight limbs of yoga*, it is important that the intermediate practitioner has some idea that the yoga that we most directly perform on the mat (asana, pranayama, and meditation), is part of a larger system of study and practice

*See diagram at the end for an overview

  • The intermediate practitioner takes their yoga off of the mat. What carries over from the mat practice differs from one person to the next. Perhaps it is an increased sense of calm, and decreased stress. For some, the mat practice increases mindfulness, morality, or spirituality in everyday life. Often times, consciously or not, the elements that are carried over are in alignment with the eight limb path of yoga*, but no one system of belief is necessary in order to be an intermediate practitioner.
The intermediate practitioner is always discerning for themselves, with mindful consideration, what they need from their yoga practice. How multi-dimensional is that practice to them, both in general, and in discreet moments? Speaking from my own experience, some days I come to a yoga class because I just need to move my body, some days I come to rest my body, some days I come to be disciplined in the physical progression of my practice, and other days I come to class as a form of prayer and conversation with the Divine. I believe an intermediate practice can take place even in a beginners yoga class. In a led class, Intermediate Yoga is made intermediate by the practitioner, not by the practice offered. So, what can you expect from the intermediate class that I teach, then?
  • As much as possible, I believe an intermediate yoga class should provide opportunities for practitioners to access all eight limbs of yoga. That space should be created, but without dogma being imposed. You can expect some discussion or mention of yogic philosophy in intermediate class.
  • When appropriate, I believe an intermediate yoga class should provide support to those that want to learn to incorporate challenging asana into their practice. If you come to my intermediate class after experiencing some of the gentler classes I teach each week, you may be surprised at the physicality of what is offered, but I can promise that you will not be alienated for opting-out of anything. These challenges will always be offered as progressions, so you can meet yourself where you are.
  • Always, I believe an intermediate yoga class should be well-balanced. We will not sweat the entire class. We will not move the entire class. Expect time set aside for yoga nidra, pranayama, and/or meditation in class.
  • All seriousness of the yoga practice aside, we will find space for levity during our time together. We will not take ourselves too seriously, and we might even laugh.
Jai Shri Satguru Maharaj Ki! “Asana is related to all the limbs of Yoga, which are intertwined in various ways. Asana is part of the life-style practices of the yamas and niyamas because it is a means of self-study and self-discipline. Asana is a form of pranayama because through right posture we can control our [breath and energy]. Asana is a form of pratyahara because it gives control of both our sesnse and motor organs. Asana is a form of dharana because through it we can concentrate our energies. Lastly, asana is a form of meditation because its proper practice requires that we keep our minds in a clear and reflective state.” – Yoga for Your Type, Frawley & Kozak
Join me for Intermediate Yoga Wednesdays, 7:30pm at Yoga Home in Conshohocken, PA. (For my full public teaching schedule click here)
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Honesty, Loving Kindness, Practice, Yoga

An Open Letter to My Yoga Students: What I Will Never Do

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June 6, 2017

- Honesty, Loving Kindness, Practice, Yoga

Photo by Joe Longo Photography at Yoga Home

  Dear yoga students, I promise I will never take photos or videos of you in savasana. I will never take or post any photos of your practice without your consent. I will never touch you without your consent. I will never comment on your shape or size. I will never sexualize the cues that I give to you. I will never scold or judge the way that you choose to exist on your mat, physically, emotionally, mentally… and I will never tell you that you aren’t allowed to leave the practice. I will never force you to do anything. I will never be upset with you for taking another teacher’s class or developing your own home practice. I will never fail to remind you that you are your own best teacher. And if I mess up and I do one of these things, which I will from time to time – because heaven knows, I am human – I will own up to it and apologize. I promise to never do anything to make you feel unsafe during your practice in the ways others have made me feel unsafe during mine. And, if I do make you feel unsafe in any way, please tell me, because I will always be receptive to that feedback. Now, how can I make you feel more empowered? In gratitude, Jenna
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Healing, Honesty, Practice

On being silenced… and then silencing mySelf

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April 20, 2017

- Healing, Honesty, Practice

Image and poem by Rupi Kaur.

I haven’t shared any of my writing in months. Not on this blog, not even privately with my friends. The past several months have been a period of serious transition for me. Catalyzed by the end of a meaningful romantic partnership, in the past four months I have moved, and I have begun following my heart down the path of birth work as a doula. I have also *gulp* began dating again. Through all of this exciting and positive change – through which I have accessed some serious self-empowerment – I have so much to process and share, and yet I have been silent. Why? I guess I didn’t want to admit that these changes were a result of a break up. That the end of my relationship had such an impact on my productivity. And, since I am still close to my former partner, I didn’t want him to be upset by any of the topics I might write about. I know, I know… When I expressed the above reasons to him last week, he was rightfully upset. “You have been silenced and your creative power has been stifled by almost every partner you have had, I don’t want to do the same,” he said, and encouraged me to write about whatever I damn like. Leave it to this special man, who I consider one of my gurus, to hit me with some seriously honest perspective. I hadn’t even considered that through all of the change I was experiencing, I was falling into the old habit of being silenced. Only this time, I couldn’t blame a partner, or a family member, or a teacher, or society at large for silencing me… I only had myself to blame. Why had I allowed myself to be silent? To suffer without sharing? Fear. It is always fear. This post is simply to say I will be exercising my voice through writing more regularly again. To say, hey, this part of me is still here. I won’t let fear hold me back from doing what I love most – sharing and connecting to others through honesty and written word.
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BestSelf, Intention, Practice

Privileged, Present, and Pissed

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January 27, 2017

- BestSelf, Intention, Practice

Remember this date: January 21st, 2017 – When an estimated 3.5-4.5 MILLION people showed up in 550 US cities and towns, and more than 100 towns overseas to participate in the Women’s March (source: The Atlantic, although numbers are still being reported and evaluated). Now, because it is an exceedingly difficult task to gather sound data on such a widespread event, from here on I will only be able to speak to my personal experience. I marched on 1/21/17 in Philadelphia alongside my family and friends. The experience was overwhelmingly positive. People were angry, they were vocal, but they were peaceful and pleasant. The majority of those I saw participating in Philadelphia were white women. From other accounts, this trend seemed to be the same across the board. It was a matter of hours before criticisms of the Women’s March were popping up online. Demographics. Imagery. Intention. Attitude. All are worth considering critically. Why were there so few people of color? Was the planning phase of the march exclusive and/or inaccessible? Why were there so few Transgender and gender non-conforming people? Was the use of female anatomical imagery exclusive? How much of a role did the hive-mind of social media play in the impressive attendance? Did those in attendance really think about what they were showing up to do? Of course, the sheer attendance itself left an impression, and if that impression is powerful enough to enact positive change… well, I’m tempted to say who cares what anyone’s intentions were?! Except… big except. This cannot be a one-off thing. We need change – real change – and its only increasing in demand with each day of the Trump Presidency. Protest and civil disobedience are the most public and visually powerful ways to express this need for change. But, the greatest amount of pressure isn’t on the (anecdotal) majority of those who attended the Women’s March. White women will certainly be impacted by Trump’s policies, actions, and hateful words, but our whiteness will always carry privilege in Trump’s America. For those that participated in the Women’s March because it was #trending, it will be all too easy to return to the day-to-day and not think about the state of current events again until the next #bigthing that floods their Facebook feed. They showed up at the Women’s March because it felt safe. Everyone else was doing it. I want to clarify that if you fall into this category, my intention is not to shame you. My intention is to call you back into action. You did an amazing thing by showing up on 1/21/17, now keep your momentum up!  I know, I know… it’s exhausting. With no condescension, I know how exhausting it is. But you are in a position to do some real good, simply because you were privileged enough to be born white. So for the sake of playing devil’s advocate, why wouldn’t a white woman (such as myself) want to show up at, say, the next Black Lives Matter protest even though they support the movement? A threatened sense of safety. Right? It must be. We Society convinces ourselves us that it’s those kinds of protests that get violent. At those protests there are arrests and tear gas and anger. It’s far less civilized then then sea of pink pussy hats at the Women’s March. We want to support BLM, but our parents would be worried if we attended a Black Lives Matter protest, wouldn’t they? There is obviously a misconception here. You can’t make a sweeping statement that all events associated with a particular interest group get violent. You might be able to look at the probability of violence at one event versus another – but if you do, you have to consider the “why.” Could it be that Black Lives Matter/Socialist/Pride/etc. protests get violent because of the socially-constructed relationship between those in attendance and law enforcement/local politicians/people in power? Could it be that simply by showing up as a white woman, and being there as an ally, the chances of violence will actually decrease? That law enforcement is less likely to be activated by a mixed-race, mixed-gender, mixed-class congregation? To be perfectly blunt, could it be that as a young white American-born person, presenting as female, from an upper-middle class background, I am less likely to be shot by a police officer than my black male friend? Shouldn’t I stand at the front line and use that privilege to keep things from getting violent? (I am speaking to white men here, too, FYI). I understand that not everyone is comfortable with social activism, even if they are in alignment with a cause. If ever there was a time to put yourself in that uncomfortable place, it’s now. I understand that fear is all too real right here and now. There are ways to get involved that don’t put your physical being in immediate risk. Number one – Stay present to what is going on; educate yourself. And not just through the articles that pop up on your social media feeds. Number two – talk to people. And not just people who look and think like you do. Then, you choose. Take action in a way that works for you. Challenge your comfort level, though. Pick up the phone and call local representatives. Run for local office. Attend community meetings. Donate to an organization doing work you believe in, whether you donate time or money. Put yourself out there. Put yourself out there for the Love of those who are not so privileged. Get angry. Feel all the feels. Let the Fear overwhelm you. Then, take care of yourself (eat well, sleep lots, go to therapy, practice yoga, journal, and so on… this is a marathon, not a sprint) so that you can detach from that Fear and show up as your BestSelf for the Love of humanity. 
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Fiery Love

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December 8, 2016

- Miscellaneous, Soul

Fiery Love…   Love is like fire not because it is volatile, but because it is hypnotizing — because it demands your presence. In some loves — you get a flicker of that presence — like the tongues of a flame and some loves — you are consumed by it — like the blue heart of a blaze.   …meditative love.  
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Healing, Honesty, Mind

Why we need to talk about rape culture

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October 11, 2016

- Healing, Honesty, Mind

#notokay #notokay #notokay Thank you, Donald Trump. No, really… thank you. If it weren’t for you, there wouldn’t be such a massive conversation around rape culture happening not just nationally, but globally. Thank you for being your authentic, complicated, problematic, violent, aggressive, despicable self in the public arena. Thank you for inadvertently pulling an ongoing conversation about rape culture into the limelight along with you, and giving it the attention it deserves. Also, thank you Kelly Oxford, among others on social media who invited women (and men! and transgendered people! and ALL PEOPLE!) to share their assault stories and instigated the #notokay movement. Politics aside; The questionable future of the US aside (though it’s hard to ignore)… There is something more important going on here. A nation is waking up. An entire body of people are being forced to realize that things are not okay. That not only do we silently accept and abide by rape culture daily, but that there are countless survivors who have been forced into silence. Why are so many silent? Because, rape culture.  Because we feel alone. Because we have been so consumed by the culture that surrounds us that we convince ourselves that our assault wasn’t a big deal. Because that very same culture tells us that rape and assault are something to be ashamed of. Because it’s easier to grin and bear it than it is to believe that our rights will be protected. Because petty criminals go to prison longer than rapists. Because we suppress it in order to survive. Because when we tell our story, even to a close friend or family member, we run the risk of being victim shamed or blamed. Because when that stranger calls us “babe” or worse, physically, aggressively, sexually approaches us… we freeze. Because when we organize an anti-rape culture rally, we are threatened by “male extremists.” Because our reality is that we may never feel safe in this life.  Although the comments made by Trump, and the social media attention that has followed can be extraordinarily triggering… we as a People needed to be triggered. And, as difficult as it is to own your experience as a survivor of sexual assault, more survivors need to speak up. This is not an occasional violation, it is a regular atrocity.  Two years ago, my memory was triggered by a powerful training experience, which inspired me to publish a piece of writing in which I owned up to an incident that occurred when I was 19-years-old (link here). At the time that I was writing this piece, I believed the rape referenced was my only repressed sexual assault. Over time, with support and with continued self-work, I have realized that my sexual trauma runs much deeper. The earliest sexual assault I can recall today occurred in 7th grade, at 12-years-old. A boy sat next to me in science class during a movie screening and put his hand in my pants and up my shirt. When class ended, I rushed over to a friend and told her what happened and she didn’t believe me, or maybe she just laughed it off. Unfortunately, the boy in question had the same class as me immediately after, and during that class he sat next to me again and continued to touch me. Why did this 12-year-old boy think it was okay to behave this way? Who taught him to do these things? And, equally as important… Why did no one teach me what to do if such an assault were to happen to me? Who to turn to? How to defend myself? We need to talk about rape culture in order to change it. We need to own up to our shared identity as survivors; we need to share our personal experiences, in order to reduce the stigma associated with sexual assault.  We need to teach our children about rape culture earlier in life (along with race relations, sexuality, and social sustainability… to name just a few). We should be educating our children far earlier about sexual assault and how to address it. We need to be talking about rape culture. Period. We need to stay angry. We need to stay inspired. We need to wake up and do something. Speak up. Act. Vote Smart. Respect. Compassion. Love. Don’t let this era be our last proud one as Americans, and as global citizens. You can help it get better from here, don’t sit back and allow it to get worse.
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Toeing a Critical Line

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September 1, 2016

- Honesty, Intention, Mind, Miscellaneous

As the the child of an academic, and a student of the liberal arts, I hold in high esteem the ability to think critically… And, (as a Being doing my very best to appreciate this life incarnate) I also desperately try to avoid harsh, unjust, unnecessary, pessimistic criticism of the world of around me. Where is the line between critical thinking and plain old criticism, and how do we toe it gracefully? At the very core of critical thought, there is a need to find fault, and a need to tap into negativity. If we are to analyze a work of art, a scientific study, or a political policy, we need to be able to see both the good and the bad. In my childhood home, and in the classrooms I have been privileged to study in, I was praised for criticism. I was praised for looking at the world presented before me and finding its faults. I was praised for being able to see these faults, mull them over, explain them in depth, focus on them, and (only sometimes) offer a solution to them. All the while, I was also being conditioned to see the world through a particular lens, with a particular set of biases. This complex relationship to critical thought made me believe that there was always a right and wrong answer; that critical thinking is objective. Wrong (ha! there I go again). We criticize based on what we perceive. Perception is subjective. I don’t know about others, but I am not convinced that this very important point was made clear to me during my days as a university student: critical thinking is founded on subjectivity. The practice of critical thinking, of criticism, once came with rewards; now, it comes with struggle. Perhaps others can relate to this experience. I look back, and think about where this landed me. On one hand, I am well educated, employed, able, and articulate. On the other hand, I feel stuck in a rushing flood of negativity, against which I am tirelessly swimming upstream. How do I hold true to my identity on both sides? How do I continue to challenge my environment, to be an agent of change – for certainly we have to think critically in order to have the necessary direction to enact change – and yet, still remain optimistic, positive, and Light?  How to survive? I need my critical thinking skills to avoid falling victim to the fear and dis-ease of the modern world. I also need an optimistic spirit, an ability to see the best, not the worst, in order to remain sane… even happy. Criticism, like all negativity, has its roots in Fear. We decide that something is wrong, that it is faulty, because somewhere deep down we fear what our reality would be if it were true. 2+2 = 22?! Wrong! If that were true the very Earth would crumble beneath my feet! (And this doesn’t mean that 2+2 does, in fact, equal 22, only that we should question why we are so quick to say it is untrue.) Only through the lens of Love can we make trustworthy judgements. Self-awareness is my only solution, as it often is. I must continue to observe my thoughts, my emotions, my involvement, and my energy. I am not alone in this. I need to ask for support from friends, for them to be a sounding board without pushing me deeper into the strong current of negativity. Only through self-awareness might I have a chance to understand when I am purpose-fully using critical thought, and when I am being unjustly critical.
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BestSelf, Healing, Intention, Loving Kindness, Practice, Yoga

Consent and Hands-On Adjustments in the Yoga Classroom

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August 3, 2016

- BestSelf, Healing, Intention, Loving Kindness, Practice, Yoga

“Throughout class I will offer hands-on adjustments, if you are open to receiving adjustments during your practice, [turn your palms to the ceiling] now, and if you prefer not to be touched, stay as you are.” I say the above, or something similar, towards the beginning of any yoga class I teach during which I intend to give students physical adjustments. To me, this doesn’t seem revolutionary. More and more, yoga instructors are being taught or coming to realize that it is important to ask permission before touching their students. Not everyone wants to be touched every day, and there is an enormous list of possibilities as to why that might be – injury, trauma, bad mood, distractions. I am not going to address those possibilities in any detail here, instead I will discuss consent. I have been asking my students’ permission before giving adjustments for about a year, but recently I have shifted to using the consent-based language above. Why? Thanks to a workshop with Gwen Soffer (Enso Yoga) and Melissa Lucchesi (Voices Inc.) my eyes were opened to the distinction of consent (see resources at the bottom of this post for more information). Consent is empowering. Consent allows you to say, “yes,” as emphatically as you want, so that you don’t have to say, “no,” with any emphasis (or panic). In a culture that is hyper-sensitive to political correctness, we have somehow neglected the importance of consent.  The baseline assumption when you request anything of another person, should be that the answer will be “no.” I don’t say that to sound negative, I say that because unless they consent, unless they choose to answer “yes,” then you shouldn’t expect your request to be granted. In the US you are innocent until proven guilty, well, in this life your requests are denied until they are granted. When you are acting in relation to others – you need to ask – you can’t just act presumptuously. I mean… you can, but if you do, you’re probably being a privileged asshole. That being said, just because you ask for something doesn’t mean you will receive it. The baseline assumption when another person requests something of you, should NOT be that you are obligated to find a way to say “yes.” Saying “yes” doesn’t make you a better person, more generous, or cooler. Saying “yes” when you don’t want to is not only exhausting, but also, by saying “yes” when you don’t want to, you are surrendering your personal power. We tend to fall victim to social obligation, rather than practicing our right to consent. I truly believe there is no personal freedom greater than the power to give consent. So, back to the yoga classroom… Here are some of my thoughts about consent, lack thereof, and hands-on adjustments in class, based on my own personal experience as a student and a teacher. If a teacher asks permission before giving physical assists in any way, even without using consent-based language, I believe that is better than not asking at all. For example, I used to say, “Throughout class I will offer hands-on adjustments, if you prefer not to be touched [turn your palms to the ceiling] now.” This is almost the same as how I ask now, but it requires that those who do not want to be touched take action to opt out. This is not the same as giving consent. This assumes that everyone wants to be touched, except for those that don’t. It also puts those who are opting out in a potentially uncomfortable position. Similarly, I have also heard teachers mention at the start of class, “I will be giving assists during class, if anything feels uncomfortable, you are welcome to say no thank you.” Social obligation may drive students to accept unwanted assists, or to feel guilty about taking action to say “no.” It’s like walking around a party with a tray of hors d’oeuvres and handing them out to everyone instead of letting people choose to take one for themselves. All the party-goers take on that distinctly awkward body language as a deviled egg is shoved into their hand and they mumble, “oh, okay, thanks,” and then turn to their friend and say, “I really don’t want this,” and end up leaving it hidden in the foliage of the nearest houseplant. If a teacher only asks permission while in the process of giving an assist, I still believe that is better than not asking at all… but barely. The instructor’s hands are on the student and then they say, “does this feel okay?” In some cases, a student will reply “no,” but more often than not they just nod their head in agreement. I have to wonder how many students have grimaced through a painful or downright bad assist out of social obligation and a desire to placate their instructor.  Finally, there are teachers who do not ask permission at all to give hands-on assists. Some of these instructors are my friends, and some are my teachers. I still choose to take many of their classes, but I am practiced in letting go of social obligation, setting my own boundaries, and saying “no,” and that is not the case with most students. Some of the reasons I have heard to justify giving hands-on assists without asking permission include:
  1. Two fold…
    1. “If a student comes to my class, they know they will be adjusted.” What about new students? What about students you know but have a new injury, or are in a bad mood, or just want their freakin’ space today? I can tell you from my own experience that there are certain teachers that I know will adjust me if I am in class, and when I am having a day that I don’t want to be touched, I don’t go to their class.
    2. “If they don’t want to be adjusted, they can just go to a different class.” Sigh. Well, shit.
  2. “I can just sense whether someone wants to be touched or not. I can sense their energy.” Even the most wonderful, in tune, energetically aware instructors have been blinded by their own ego and presumptions and given me assists that were unwanted. That is, before I learned to say “no.” Please please please, instructors, keep your ego in check on this one.
  3. “I’ve been teaching for so long, I’m not going to change the way I do things now.” Well that’s just a stupid excuse. The yoga practice is one of self-awareness and personal growth. If you have decided that you will continue to not ask permission before giving adjustments, fine, but at least come up with a justifiable reason.
I ask my instructor friends to join me in questioning why we approach adjustments in the way that we do. Is it our place to give hands-on assists? Should we ask for permission, and if so, how/when? What is the real purpose behind each and every assist? When might we be causing more harm than good? How much of how we view assists is our own stuff/ego? What might we be putting on our students? How can we best serve every student who walks into our classes? Historically, this conversation has gotten pretty heated. It is difficult to consider that we might be harming our students or making them uncomfortable when we have the best of intentions. Just try to take the time to reflect on consent-based physical assists. Whether or not it resonates with you as a teacher or practitioner, I believe that we owe it to our students. The teacher-student dynamic inherently has a power hierarchy, and as teachers, we need to take every precaution not to strip our students of their personal power. Consent is a personal freedom. Let’s give it back to our students.
Click the Links Below for More Resources: Affirmative Consent Arrives in Yoga Studios Permission Stones Trauma Informed Lens – Gwen Soffer and Melissa Lucchesi      
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Review of Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

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July 21, 2016

- Honesty, Mind, Miscellaneous, Practice

I am going to come right out and say it… I did not read Eat Pray Love. I can’t tell you why exactly, but something about Elizabeth Gilbert’s popular book, its movie adaptation, and the hype around it all really rubbed me the wrong way. I do eat, pray, and love. I also read books, but I couldn’t get myself to pick that one up. I don’t know if it was the colorful cover (it probably was), or the key word “fear” in the subtitle, but something caused me to buy her new book, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear. I bought the hardcover, in fact. As soon as I started to read it, I was struck by the self-deprecating thought, “Shit. Elizabeth Gilbert is writing about fear much more articulately than I ever will. I should probably stop writing all together.” I was also struck by the thought, “Shit. I was supposed to write this book, not her! It should have been me!” Funny, not just because both of these lines of thinking are absurd, but also because, fast-forward a few page turns, and Gilbert spoke directly to those thoughts. Damn. “Okay, I guess I will keep reading then,” I told myself. …And then I proceeded to put the book down for two months, with a mark at page 91. Perhaps not so coincidentally, I also didn’t publish any of my own writing in those two months. I guess I should say thank you, Elizabeth Gilbert, for the massive blow to my ego. You broke me down, but when I picked up the book again this week, you managed to build me back up. I know no one can see me, so I want you to know that I am shaking my fist aggressively and looking skyward, thinking to myself, “damn this league of female truth-teller/self-help-y writers which I have found myself a part of!” In order to set a framework for her book on creative living and fear, Gilbert makes a valiant attempt to convince all readers that they are creative, whether or not they are an artist by trade. This is something I too believe, so I didn’t take too much convincing, and I have to wonder if anyone who selects this book for themselves would take much convincing. Still, she does so beautifully:
So this, I believe, is the central question upon which all creative living hinges: Do you have the courage to bring forth the treasures that are hidden within you? … The hunt to uncover those jewels – that’s creative living. The courage to go on that hunt in the first place – that’s what separates a mundane existence from a more enchanted one.
What struck me the most about this book was Gilbert’s description of the relationship between creativity and fear. Because I consider myself a creative, and my partner considers himself one as well, we often find ourselves revisiting the same ideas as we discuss art. The idea that good art comes from dark places/human lives are complicated and art should be a reflection of that/you need to make yourself so, so, so vulnerable as an artist. Rarely, though do we directly discuss the relationship between fear and creativity, which is a little bit funny to me, considering my obsession with fear. Gilbert describes clearly the difference between bravery and fearlessness, “Bravery means doing something scary. Fearlessness means not even understanding what the word scary means.” The proverbial ‘they’ say that people who take (physical) risks typically only get hurt in one of two cases: 1) they are so scared that they are paralyzed by fear, or 2) they are so fearless that they forget to consider risk. Both are irrational states of being. So, we need the middle ground – bravery – in order to intelligently take risks. Fear is necessary in order to create. “In fact,” Gilbert says, “it seems to me that my fear and my creativity are basically conjoined twins – as evidenced by the fact that creativity cannot take a single step forward without fear marching right alongside it.” When embarking on a creative endeavor, Elizabeth Gilbert speaks to her fear:
Dearest Fear: Creativity and I are about to go on a road trip together. I understand you’ll be joining us, because you always do. I acknowledge that you believe you have an important job to do in my life, and that you take your job seriously. Apparently your job is to induce complete panic whenever I am about to do something interesting – and, may I say, you are superb at your job. So by all means, keep doing your job, if you feel you must. But I will also be doing my job on this road trip, which is to work hard and stay focused. And Creativity will be doing its job, which is to remain stimulating and inspiring. There’s plenty of room in this vehicle for all of us, so make yourself at home, but understand this: Creativity and I are the only ones who will be making and decisions along the way. I recognize and respect that you are part of this family, and so I will never exclude you from our activities, but still – your suggestions will never be followed. You’re allowed to have a seat, and you’re allowed to have a voice, but you are not allowed to have a vote. You’re not allowed to touch the roadmaps; you’re not allowed to suggest detours; you’re not allowed to fiddle with the temperature. Dude, you’re not even allowed to touch the radio. But above all else, my dear old familiar friend, you are absolutely forbidden to drive.
I absolutely love this analogy, and will add it to my toolbox for living Love Over Fear. I highly recommend reading Big Magic, and would love to discuss with anyone who has. Who knows, maybe I’ll even pick up a copy of Eat Pray Love now… just maybe.    
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