Happy Summer yogis! Here's what's happening with yoga for the summer!

We will have a special guest speaker at prenatal on Thursday July 30 sharing her experience with using yoga and pranayama in labour. All are welcome to stay after class and enjoy the talk.

Due to an interest in one on one sessions/talking more in depth about yoga techniques for labour, I'm offering a private lesson special from now-September. Book a 45 minute prenatal private for $55 or book three 45minute sessions for $150. Email me to book or for more information!

Postnatal yoga will begin in August running through September. Dates and times TBA - watch the schedule page.

Elkford yogis - I'll be coming with another teacher to offer you a 3 hour workshop on Yoga for Body Image in September. Check your inboxes/watch the events page for details.

Need some TLC? The October retreat details will be up by next week. Save the weekend of October 2-4 for some you time in the rustic Fernie Wilderness Adventures Lodge!

I have the opportunity to delve into pre and post natal studies a bit deeper with Mamata Yoga's online course this summer. An opportunity I am very grateful for! Check out their blog for some great insights and birth stories!

Love Coraley

2015 has not been the year I was expecting it to be. At the start of this year I was working hard at moving forward with my yoga and writing, making connections, planning retreats, upgrading my teaching qualifications and looking forward to all of the new opportunities and adventures that my motivation and enthusiasm were bringing my way. All of the excitement culminated in February when we realized we were pregnant. But February also brought with it a tide of strange coincidences that started to sweep away some of the excitement and replace it with worries. Some financial strain came on, followed by intense pregnancy symptoms that resulted in sapped physical and mental energy and left me with little time to devote to my work. I no sooner started to recoup my energy and found myself facing an old health issue.
I'm no stranger to dips in motivation, or struggling to persevere through difficult life circumstances. I view the times where life gets a bit more challenging as a good opportunity. They can create periods of immense growth; they can be amazingly affirming if they entail being abstinent from something - say a physical yoga practice, or our work - by helping to reaffirm our passion and desire for what we choose to pursue. More often then not, even when I want to berate myself for not finding a way to push through and do what I want to be doing, versus what my body/mind/life circumstance are dictating I can do, I can find the bright side to where I'm at, or at least acceptance of that place, and end up the better for having the chance to practice yoga off-the-mat, a much harder endeavor than anything I've worked towards in asana. But this streak of lows culminated in something I was not ready for, when I suddenly lost my dog Dakota at the beginning of the month.
Anyone who knows me at all knows about Heidi and Dakota. Undoubtedly after any amount of time in conversation with me they will come up. The reason for this is quite simple: I have never been loved by any human being -ever - as flawlessly as I have been loved by those two dogs. Don't get me wrong, I love my people. And the dark times in my life have served as opportunities for me to realize exactly how blessed I am to have, and have had, so many amazing people in my corner. But dogs are not like people. They do not stumble over things with the wrong words marring their way. Their own feelings do not muddle the support that they give, or how they give it. They do not judge, or grow tired of you, or ever - ever - stop thinking, even for a second, that you are the best thing on the planet.  And it is because of these qualities that my dogs came to be the light that pulled me out of the darkest, hardest time in my life. Because when I didn't know where to look for the light in myself, they still saw it. And their belief in me, their love for me, forced me to start believing in myself.
Losing Dakota has been a challenge.
It has been a lesson in checking in. In learning a bit more about the places in my life where I forget relying on "happiness within" and instead place it on others. Because losing him felt like losing a piece of myself. A chunk of my history and yes, some of the strength that built up in me as I bloomed out of the dark places I have faced in the past.
It has been a practice in letting go. Because I was not ready. And I did not want to. But I loved him too much to put him through anything unnecessary in order to try and keep him here just for me.
And it has been the ultimate test in looking for the light. In finding happiness in memories, and in celebrating the time that we did share, in celebrating everything that was amazing about his gentle, strong, loving, protective, intelligent and infinitely giving soul instead of getting stuck in the sorrow of not having more.

But I will not lie to you. Grief is the hardest yoga I have ever done.

As I reflected on my weekend driving south through the prairies toward the mountains, toward home, on Monday, every cell in my body twinkled with inspiration.  My head was floating with ideas and refined techniques for my classes and workshops, but I wasn't flitting around in la-la land un-rooted as often happens when our creativity takes over full force.  Instead, I was grounded firmly with a newly renewed belief in how I teach and in my ability to help people, and with a wealth of scientific and anatomical knowledge to back it up.  I was rooted and floating. If chakras are your thing, you might say mine were perfectly aligned.
When I started teaching I had an un-wavering belief in my abilities. I knew what I did worked and I believed whole heartedly that the people who came to my classes would be able to find what they needed there.  How did I know this? It's really simple.  I knew how my practice felt in my body (and it felt damn good) and I had the confidence and the humbleness to know it may not work exactly the same way for my students, so I wasn't afraid to cue my class to take a different route rather than hang on my every word and instruction. Fast forward to two years after I took my first teacher training, as I find myself beginning the journey toward my 500 hour teaching certification, and one of the first things that the teacher says to us is that we need to let go of the idea that by-the-book alignment in a pose, or overworking one muscle by hitting the same or similar poses in a sequence is of benefit, that a "harder" sequence, a stiffer practice is "better" or more beneficial (to question if it is of benefit at all even), but instead to discover what things feel like in your body and to ask our students the same thing. To use that as our roadmap.  To understand the science behind what works our muscles, what affects range of motion, what is truly beneficial and actually works to achieve balance on and off the mat. To treat each student as an individual with a unique body that may not work exactly the same as our own - or anyone else's for that matter, and to honour that individuality in ourselves and in our students. To respect ourselves and other teachers enough to teach as individuals, not carbon copies of a text book or someone else, because we aren't all the same and that, that is important and should be honoured. It was my teaching philosophy, being taught to me.  And make no mistake, I'm sure the universe put me there to re-learn it, and just to make sure I was listening,  to learn it from a very experienced yoga teacher swimming in anatomical certifications and with an amazing and enviable practice and ability to intelligently teach that practice, the strong aspects and the soft, to others.
There were a few things I had to process on my drive home. One was how had I let someone else's idea of what I should be teaching affect me so much? Enough that even after removing myself from the reach of the person's negative influence I was questioning myself in my classes - despite the universe sending me numerous opportunities and voices of support to remind me that her actions had to do with her insecurities, not with me.  This was hard for me to look at.  Somewhere along the way I had lost touch with that sure, confident part of me and had started letting outside situations and actions affect me. 
The other realization that struck me was that I was still doing it.  I had left the unhealthy environment, I had kept moving forward and continued to teach and be inspired by the world around me, but I hadn't found my footing on my own, I needed to hear someone else teach my theory on teaching yoga to me in order to feel validated, in order for me to get "back to myself" in my teaching and my confidence level as a teacher. I had needed external validation to offset the external criticism. I wasn't home yet. 

But I was on my way.

The floor is warm and smooth under my feet. Closing my eyes, I stretch my toes wide and begin to rock my weight back and forth between toe and heel. Finally comfortably rooted and centered, I begin to move my awareness up my body: legs rising long, low back lengthening down, shoulders line up with hips and ears, crown of the head rising. Breathing into my stillness, I feel my ribs expand and release over and over, the rhythm centering me. Gradually the time for stillness draws to a close. My breath whispers to my bones, my muscles, my soul: move. And I do.

I just spent an amazing weekend at an acro and slackline yoga workshop. My body is (predictably) incredibly sore but I am so content and relaxed it's amazing! While both acro yoga and slackline yoga have intrigued me, and I thoroughly enjoyed the small taste of acro I've experienced in the past, I admit to finding myself surprised by the calmness both practices left me feeling. More pictures to come, but wanted to get a post up to share! <3

Cleaning the studio floor between hot yoga flow classes the other night I had an interesting conversation with a student who had rushed in early to enjoy the heat.  She confessed to me that she was trying to get into yoga, which prompted me to ask whether it was her first class.  She told me that it wasn't, she had been to a few hot flow classes.  Her face scrunched up and there was a slight pause before she followed this with "I come to yoga for a workout.  I don't like the spiritual part of it, I find it distracting. My theory is that the harder classes have less of it [philosophy]."  Despite myself, I felt my shoulders tense and I'm fairly certain the look on my face was not the open and non-judgemental one the yogini in me would have liked it to be.  "That's interesting," I said as I turned to put away the mop and vinegar. 
After class I found myself reviewing the conversation in my mind.  I shared it with the owner of the studio.  I shared it with other teachers.  I knew that the conversation had affected me and had gotten my back up.  I knew that I had feelings about my reaction and that I wished I had been more supportive of the student and her prerogative.  But I couldn't quite figure out why I had reacted the way I did. 
In my mid-twenties I ended an unhealthy relationship.  It was the hardest and easiest thing I had ever done and, even though it was a time fraught with uncertainty, I was excited for a brighter and better future, a hope that was soon shattered as my ex's behaviour took an obsessive and scary turn.  By the time the ordeal was over, I found my life in tatters and myself housebound with anxiety disorder and PTSD.  I didn't know what was wrong with me, but I knew that I was severely unhappy, scared of everything from shadows on the wall to unidentified bumps in the night, and unable to function in my life, or even get out of bed most days.  I needed help.  I reached out and soon began weekly counselling appointments, taking anxiety medication and finding my way back to my yoga practice, which had fallen to the wayside in the chaos of the split and ensuing stalking. 
My counsellor was also a yoga teacher and so my weekly counselling appointments included breath work and looking at the asanas that challenged me most, as well as tools for incorporating yoga philosophy into my daily life and thought processes, all of which helped to reverse the patterns that a mentally abusive relationship and subsequent stalking had helped me find my way into. Yoga was the best medicine for me.  I was off of my anxiety medication in less than a year and back to working, living, and yes, leaving bed - and even the house - in due time too. 
While giving a lecture at a recent teacher training a student asked me if I felt that my PTSD and anxiety had been "cured" (when they diagnose you with anxiety disorder/PTSD you are told that it is a permanent, life-long diagnosis because the chemistry in the brain and body has changed with the stress response being altered, and so it is thought that there are no "cures" just coping mechanisms, medications and emotional tools/habits that allow a patient to deal better with the disorder.)  I paused before I answered but knew I had to say what I honestly felt in my heart.  "I know that they say that once the response has altered you can't ever get it back to normal, that it will be a life-long mental health issue. But yes, I do think that PTSD and anxiety no longer affect me, and I do think that yoga played a very large role in changing that. I haven't had any symptoms of either for years now."
I could site studies on the ways that yoga, meditation and breath work affect the central nervous system, cerebral health, thought and behaviour patterns, and even physiological responses to stress or rigorous physical activity, but to me no recounting of a study could have the impact that sharing my personal experience can.  Yoga healed me and  without it I have no doubt my life and health would not be what they are today.  And maybe that is why I struggled to maintain the non-judgement and openness that I longed to with my student that night. My yoga has been such an intense journey and has touched and healed the deepest depths of my being. In the moment, with the church-like glow of soft orange light, tranquil silence and deep warmth of the studio, a space where I have bowed to those once broken parts of my being so many times, I was unable to separate how I needed to travel the path of yoga from the way that she needed to.  And that's okay.  I am only human after all - divine in my imperfection but imperfect, none-the-less. Her yoga journey doesn't need to be the same as mine and no matter how amazing mine has been, or how important that aspect of practice has been for me, it doesn't mean that it needs to be the same for her.  It isn't meant to be the same.  And I'm thankful to her for reminding me of that and for creating a space where I could reflect on the profound impact that yoga has had on my life and be humbled by both how far I've come and how far there is still to go.

Has yoga impacted your physical, mental or spiritual health? For the month of September the Milken Institute of Health at  George Washington University is running a blogging campaign to spread the word about yoga's role in health and wellness. Follow this link for more information on how to participate: http://publichealthonline.gwu.edu/yoga-matters-invitation

As soon as I plucked it out of my mailbox, I began to read Angie Abdou's latest novel Between. In the  lead-up to the novel's release it was touted as being a book about Filipina nannies, gambling and hot yoga. It had all of that, and more.  Decidedly less yoga than other activities, including drinking, drugs, and a healthy dose of sex, but that was okay - Angie comes to my yoga classes and so I was happy not to see shades of myself splattered throughout the yoga scenes, though I've heard that you rarely are able to identify yourself in novels anyway (perhaps there are pieces of me in Roger, the middle-aged, hot short wearing, yoga teacher;-) Though it isn't a book about yoga, per say, I'd highly recommend Between to anyone looking for a good Can Lit read and a good laugh. And though the yoga takes a back seat to the other themes in the novel, there's some definite food for thought in the spaces between what's written and what we perceive about yoga. 
I've had Angie as a teacher for several university courses, I've been her carpool buddy, hung out with her for coffee and read to her from my deepest, darkest, memoirs during writing festivals.  She's a damn good teacher and a lover of all things literature -particularly good grammar and dark humour.  It's because of her hard ass approach to teaching the  English language that many a student has left her class with a much better grip on proper grammar. So it is fitting that this post about her book be shared with my promotion of Grammarly's Promote Literacy Program.
It just so happened that around the time Between was released, I saw a post on Grammarly searching for bloggers to help them spread the word about literacy.  I wrote to them right away saying I'd be keen to help them out.  It took a while for them to respond, but that's a good thing.  As it turns out, they have had such a great response to the program that it was taking a while to respond to everyone.  So what is the deal anyway? Grammarly, who anyone that happens to be friends with me on Facebook probably knows, is an awesome blog about grammar that posts even more awesome memes about grammar. Oh snap, my literary nerdiness is showing.  Their Promote Literacy Program(http://www.grammarly.com/blog/2014/promote-literacy-with-grammarly/) is a push to get the word out about the importance of literacy, not just for students, but for adults in the workforce too.  For every blogger that posts about the program, Grammarly will donate to a charity that works to alleviate illiteracy. Follow the link to learn more and if you have a blog consider participating.  In the high tech age that we live in, written communication is more important than ever before, together we can work to eradicate illiteracy (a feat that would make Angie very happy, I'm sure;-)

After a weekend spent teaching to, and learning from, a beautiful group of yoginis at EYS's latest teacher training, I taught a yin class this morning from the perspective of a full and happy yogini who just enjoyed a transformative weekend.  And it was during this class, while feeling so full and recharged, that I felt my heart pouring out to a student.  Sometimes the universe fills us up and if we are wise, and honour our true nature, we share that goodness with others rather than trying to keep it all for ourselves. 
I had never taught her before and she was friendly and chatty before class when I introduced myself to her, but as we journeyed into our practice, I began to notice an un-easiness to her that deepened as the minutes ticked by.  I kept my voice calm, talked a bit more than I usually do during yin, and tried to pour out good, calming energy to guide her into a peaceful acceptance of the now.  As the class prepared for savasana,  hoped with my entirety that she would find a few moments of rest from the anxiety that had swirled around her like a shroud during class.  But watching over the class as they relaxed into their savasana I would see her slip into rest for a moment or two and then shudder and twitch back to consciousness. 
Having suffered through PTSD and anxiety disorder, I wished that, even just for a moment, I could let her know without singling her out that it could be okay.  That it would be okay.  That if she continues to try and find her way, it will happen.  That the feelings of anxiety aren't permanent.  That they didn't define her.  That I knew with my whole being she could overcome them.  But that wasn't my place.  I was a teacher, in a morning yoga class, who knew nothing at all about her.  It would have been awkward and unprofessional for me to do so. 
As I sat in sukhasana, my students in savasana, my heart spoke to me and I accepted that I couldn`t confront her, and that even if I could, it may be unwelcomed interference.  It wasn`t my place.  So I let some of the wealth of beautiful energy that had built up within me over the weekend seep out and led the  class into a final meditation meant to evoke feelings of calm and invited them to take that  into their day.  As we sat in meditation, I let my whole heart shine in the genuine hope that, even if it was only for a second, she felt calm and centered and unworried.  And then I let it go.  It isn`t for me to meddle in another`s journey, or project my feelings on to someone else`s situation.  We each walk our own paths and the best support we  can give each other is open acceptance and un-conditional love.  It`s the best support we can give ourselves too.
Namaste