The Next Chapter

02 Sep 2013 Leave a comment

by Hannah in Uncategorized

I’d like to share with you this picture of my friend Jonathan sent me the other day; studying abroad in Budapest isn’t stopping him from breaking out a badass downward dog or two.

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Note the nun in the background. She’s impressed.

But now, here’s what you’ve all been waiting for, biting your nails in anticipation ever since you saw my imaginary appearance on Oprah last week… the link to my new blog! Or rather, our new blog.

My roommate Julie (who accompanied me to that final Bikram practice all those weeks ago) and I have started a blog together, all about our college experiences. Well, mostly about our college experiences. I’m definitely going to keep making fart jokes, and I already have a list of elephant puns I plan on working in there soon. We’ll be posting every Monday, so come follow us at http://hannahandjulie.com/

 

 

A Conclusion of Sorts, and Oprah

27 Aug 2013 5 Comments

by Hannah in Vinyasa Yoga Tags: , , , , , ,

My yoga friends, the summer has officially come to an end. Well, maybe not officially- I haven’t checked with the farmers’ almanac or the elite group of calendar creators who have the power to declare things like summer has officially ended or let’s have the groundhog decide! But my full-time yoga adventure has (sadly) come to a close.

I write to you from my spectacular penthouse of a college dorm room, where we have air conditioning, enormous windows, and enough space for a futon plus three beds. (My bed is bunked so high I might actually be in space, but the ever-present possibility of falling to my death just makes things that much more exciting.) And being back at school is no excuse to stop practicing yoga!

There’s a Vinyasa studio down the street that I dragged Julie to tonight, and we both bought 3-month unlimited memberships. It isn’t sweaty, we use props, and the instructors don’t tell us our foreheads should be touching our toes, but we’re finding a way to love it all the same.

All in all, this summer has been a most magical adventure: challenging, eye-opening, sweaty. If you get the chance, check out the tab above that says A Grand Yoga Adventure; it’s my final piece for the project and I would just love if you took a gander.

This is where I’m tempted to get cheesy and say I learned a lot about myself, the world is good at its core, you can do anything if you put your mind to it, and other cliche things that are best left on posters in elementary school classrooms. But I’ll just leave you readers with a heartfelt thank you. (I do it all for the fans. Taylor Swift and I are similar that way.)

To avoid boring you with an average corny conclusion, I would like you to imagine that I’m a celebrity on a well-viewed talk show; maybe Ellen, or one of those happy Oprah episodes. (I don’t care that she’s not on the air anymore, O is still the queen of daytime TV.) So I’m discussing my project, and Oprah asks me enthusiastic questions about the sweat, the obstacles, the marvelous blog posts. The studio audience (populated mostly by women ages 35-65) is groaning miserably at the mention of the whole thing being over. Oprah shows a delightful little photo montage of me being sweaty in a variety of places, and viewers across the country are smiling and chuckling and saying to each other I’d really like to meet that yoga blogger girl, she’s just so cool/witty/stunning. And then Oprah asks the question everyone’s been waiting for.

O: So Hannah, tell me. What’s next? Where do you go after this wild yoga blogging success?

(The studio audience falls silent, collectively fidgeting with anticipation.)

H: Well, the project really helped me grow as a person, and I’m just so thankful to have been given such a wonderful opportunity. (Dramatic pause.) But, I’m not sure I’m ready to give up this whole blogging thing just yet.

(The studio audience releases one giant strangled cheer, giant because they know what’s coming next, strangled because Oprah has held up her hands for them to quiet down so she can ask me her next question.)

O: Hannah, does… does this mean you’re going to keep blogging?

H: Yes, I am going to keep blogging.

(The studio audience erupts into wild applause so the viewers at home can barely hear what I said past yes, but no one cares, people across the country are laughing, jumping from their couches, exchanging hugs and friendly slaps on the back. It’s like the Americans just won gold in Miracle.)

So yes, my friends, the news is true- I plan to keep blogging. Possibly about college, possibly about other things. I’ve seriously considered devoting an entire website to elephant puns. But no matter the topic, I’ve decided to continue this adventure- sharing my thoughts and my writing with you, you lucky sons of bitches.

(Thunderous applause from the studio audience, despite the few mothers who exchange offended  looks like did she really just say sons of bitches?)

Same time, same place, next week I’ll be posting a link to my new blog. Come check it out if you want, or don’t. (But yes please do, and if you like it send it to your friend/dad/grandmother/cat. That’d be really awesome.)

Namaste,
Hannah

Shameless Self-Promotion (and some animals)

20 Aug 2013 4 Comments

by Hannah in 30-Day Challenge, Bikram Yoga Tags: , , , , , ,

When asked what he wanted for his birthday, the yogi replied, “I wish no gifts, only presence.” -website with a lot of yoga puns

This week, I have something a little different for you guys. As you may already know, I’ve been blogging and researching and yoga-ing all summer, all in the name of bettering my writing skills (and the flexibility of my knee ligaments). In addition to the blog posts you may have already read (or not have read, in which case please scroll down and enjoy), I’ve also written an extended piece on my Bikram 30-day challenge. This piece is exclusively available to you readers, all twelve of you, under the tab above labeled A Grand Yoga Adventure. Please peruse the piece at your leisure, and don’t hesitate to let me know what you think!

As promised last week, I’d also like to share some of my more serious Internet research findings. Behold, animals doing yoga:

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This one is rather irrelephant, wouldn’t you say?

Longleat Safari Park, Britain - Sep 2006

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Downward facing… cat

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Namaste,

Hannah

 

The Post-Vacation Post

13 Aug 2013 6 Comments

by Hannah in Bikram Yoga, Family Tags: , , , , , ,

Hello my yoga friends!

I have just returned from a family vacation filled with sunny bliss and raunchy movies. (If you have the chance to see We’re the Millers with your family and you’re abnormally comfortable with your parents, I promise it’s a good time.)

And of course we found some yoga along the way.

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My dad also came with my mom and me to this Bikram practice, though he opted to be the photographer rather than the photographed after an especially torturous 90 minutes in the hot room. Maybe it was the studio’s slippery wooden floors, maybe it was the instructor’s strangely shaped beard, or maybe it was the fact that all three of us had eaten enough chocolate to kill a Dementor in our week on the beach, but this practice slapped us all pretty hard across the face. My limbs felt like bricks and my stomach cramped up halfway through the standing series. My mom ran out of water and hadn’t hydrated enough before class. My dad… well, my dad only goes to Bikram once every two months, so every class kind of slaps him across the face. But we survived the practice and dragged ourselves out of that studio with genuine gratitude for the fact that none of us threw up on the floor.

Though our single yoga adventure for the week was a little miserable, the rest of the vacation was just marvelous:

  • I ran 5 miles in 46 minutes and 45 seconds! Despite my body’s pleas I did not stop to walk once, thus reaching another one of my goals for the summer. (And a big thanks to my cousin Kristina for kicking my ass, couldn’t have done it without you.)
  •  We perused little shops that sold signs with all kinds of quotes, many of them yoga inspired.
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    (I do love me some quotes.)
  •  We dabbled in high-fashion modeling.
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  •  We tested the age-old adage, if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you?
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    (Yes. Yes we would.)

We had to take a boat and a car to get home yesterday, and nobody killed each other in the process. So I’d call the week a success.

My mom and I went to another Bikram class this afternoon, and I am proud to report that we did not feel like we were going to die. One of our favorite instructors was teaching, we drank enough water before class, and we both wore colorful outfits that showed off our bangin’ vacation tans. We rocked it today, ladies and gentlemen.

And so the pendulum swings. Good days, bad days, sunny days, rainy days. (I actually just wrote that as a serious sentence, then realized that my subconscious is quoting Wyclef Jean. Should I be proud or embarrassed?) It just goes on my friends.

On a somewhat irrelevant note, I’ve been doing a lot of research on animal yoga lately (namely googling “animals doing yoga”) and I’d love to share my findings with you soon. Next week perhaps? Same time, same place.

Namaste,
Hannah

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Downward Facing Bog?

06 Aug 2013 Leave a comment

by Hannah in Family, Vinyasa Yoga Tags: , , , , , ,

I’m currently on vacation with my family; between naps on the beach and tonight’s riveting finale of The Bachelorette, I’ve been hard pressed to find time to concoct a masterfully witty blog post. But before I completely fall into a chocolate/reality TV-induced coma, I’ll leave you friends with a few tidbits.

  • My cousin Kristina and I decided to go on a run together yesterday. As we set out on our jog, she turned to me and said- and this is a direct quote- “yeah, I usually run pretty slow.” I rejoiced. She then proceeded to set a pace that made me painfully aware of my own mortality, and we kept this pace for about 3 miles. (Damn you, Kristina.)
  •  To celebrate my survival of this run, I decided to do a few sun salutations in our backyard after we finished stretching. Just as I was coming out of my first downward dog, there came a surprising yell from our bedroom window on the second floor. “Look straight into the eyes of God!” Kristina shouted like she was announcing the name of a new Pope. We laughed so hard I almost peed.
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  • If you haven’t seen this commercial yet, it’s pure gold. In case you can’t hear the dialogue over the cameraman’s hysterical laughter, Younger Ocean Spray Guy is doing yoga in the cranberry bog as part of his morning routine. Old And Wise Ocean Spray Guy asks Younger Guy what he calls his last pose, to which he responds, “That’s, uh, downward facing bog?” (Genius.)

 

Have a wonderful week, yogis and yoginis.

Namaste,
Hannah

Ode to Pumpa

29 Jul 2013 2 Comments

by Hannah in 30-Day Challenge, Bikram Yoga, Family Tags: , , ,

When I first told Pumpa, my 88 year old grandfather, about my yoga plans for the summer, his old hazel eyes widened in surprise. “Yoga?” he asked, thick Russian accent adding several additional layers of incredulity, “I can tell you all you need to know about yoga. Just lift a leg and fart.”

Pumpa has never done yoga, he never plans on doing yoga, and he sure as hell doesn’t like the idea of yoga. But as his only granddaughter with a yoga blog, I think it is my duty to share with you all the colorful opinions he has on the topic.

Now before I continue, let me supply a little bit of background on the man himself. Pumpa is an avid tennis player, a seasoned skier, and a proud mediocre singer of dirty Russian songs. (What he lacks in musical talent he makes up for in enthusiasm.) A few weeks ago, he bought a bike because he hasn’t ridden one in a few decades and was really starting to miss the feeling.

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Did I mention he’s 88?

When he was just fourteen, Pumpa began fighting Nazis with a guerilla Russian army in the forests of Eastern Europe. He slept in snow banks. He beheaded unlucky German officers on motorcycles with piano strings. He built bombs to blow up trains carrying precious cargo to Nazi soldiers. To say the least, Pumpa is a certified badass.

He and my Nana live only five minutes away from our house, so my sister and I go over to their condo for dinner at least once a week. Over the course of the summer, these dinner dates have sparked some rather unorthodox yoga-related conversation.

At the very beginning of this project, I found myself trying to explain the concept of my blog to a very skeptical Pumpa. (Being a retired mechanical engineer, he has difficulty accepting terms like creative research or English major.) “I’ll write something new every week, about how the yoga’s going or how I’m feeling and stuff like that. I even thought of a title today!”

“What’s the title?” Nana asked politely. (She’s one of the most patient, honest, and admirable people I know. She’ll get her own ode soon enough.)

“Your Forehead Should Touch Your Toes, and other yoga adventures,” I announced.

Pumpa chuckled and took a large swig of his drink. “You know, I think my forehead will touch my toes just before I’m cremated.” He then proceeded to ask if I had found myself a boyfriend yet, and that was the end of that.

Most days, our conversation would follow a pattern that looked something like this.
Pumpa: How’s all the yoga going, sweetheart?
Me: Pretty well! Really sweaty, but really fun.
Pumpa: Good. Glad to see you haven’t gained any weight, honey.

But then last week, Pumpa had an especially interesting story for us. A woman had approached him at the health club that he and Nana exercise at every morning, with the intention of recruiting him for a senior health class. Pumpa was furious. “That really turns me off, you know, I don’t like to be called a senior. Old fart I don’t mind, but senior just pisses me off. Elderly too.” As he spoke, I noticed the large sign that hung behind him on their dining room wall, proudly baring three letters: EEB. I’d been his granddaughter long enough to know that this stood for Eastern European Bastard, a nickname he would gladly tell you about if you asked. But remember, those E’s do not stand for Elderly.

And as if to add insult to injury, he went on to explain that the class the woman was trying to recruit him for was actually a yoga practice. A yoga class for the elderly. As you may have guessed, Pumpa declined the offer.

After Nana and I cleared the dishes, Pumpa clasped his hands atop the wooden dining table and looked at me. “You know, Hannah,” he began, “I saw your… blog.” (He said the word blog the way some people might say income tax or irritable bowel syndrome.) “I think your English is good, but the rest I don’t really give a shit about.”

“Oh, why thank you!” I laughed, but the gratitude was genuine. It’s not often that Pumpa will tell you your English is good.

As I slipped on my shoes to leave their condo a little while later, Pumpa patted my shoulder. “You look good, honey.” I kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks, Pumpa.”

He may not always agree with what I do, but he always finds a way to support me; for that, I am grateful. Maybe someday I’ll be able to drag him to a yoga class. I have to imagine lifting a leg and farting could become his new specialty.

Namaste,
Hannah

(Love you, Pumps.)

“SUP?” (Road Trip Part IV)

20 Jul 2013 4 Comments

by Hannah in Meditation, Road Trip, Stand-Up Paddleboard Yoga, Vinyasa Yoga Tags: , , , , ,

“Life is limitless, and knowing this is what the spirit is.” -Macklemore

My mom, Mary and I arrived at the beach for paddle board yoga just before 7AM. I was ecstatic, pee-your-pants, Deathly-Hallows-midnight-premiere levels of excited. (Most pivotal moments of my life thus far, in descending order: birth of my sister, receiving my pre-ordered copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, moving into college. So this was pretty damn exciting.) The sun had just begun to rise over the expanse of green trees at the other side of the pond; a gentle breeze made tiny ripples in the stunningly blue water; a neat row of colorful boards awaited us at the pond’s edge, complete with anchors, paddles, and optional life vests. I was pretty sure we’d just found heaven.

“SUP,” or Stand-Up Paddleboard Yoga, had been a source of intrigue for my mom and me ever since we subscribed to the Athleta catalogue. Not to mention the second I found out about the catchy acronym I wanted to find a paddle board yoga instructor and ask, “hey, what’s SUP?” (Anyone? Anyone?) The aura of mystery and grace surrounding SUP yoga was both intimidating and attractive. My mom, Mary and I felt absolutely confident in two things: 1) the practice would be magical, and 2) we were going to suck at it.

An impressively athletic-looking woman pulled up to the beach a few minutes after we did. We all openly stared at her as she got out of her car and started walking over to the pond.

“Yup, she’s toned,” Mary observed. “We’re done for, ladies.” My mom and I nodded in grim agreement. It was clear we were out of our league.

But the sun was shining, the pond beckoned, and our awesome instructor Amy assured us that most of her clientele signed up for class with no prior paddle boarding experience. So when she said the word, we grabbed our boards, sat squarely on our knees, and began to paddle out on the water.

The board was far more stable than I had imagined it would be; after just a few minutes of practice on my feet I could comfortably rock from side to side, shifting weight from one foot to the other. I paddled like Amy had instructed us to, driving the blade straight down into the water and smoothly pushing it back to propel myself forward. The landscape sprawled out in front of me like a painting, calm and unassuming in the quiet morning air. I listened to the lapping of the water against my board. I hummed a little tune. I imagined hitting pause on the world outside the pond, stretching out that gorgeous, peaceful moment so I could live in it for a few eternities. A few minutes later we dropped our anchors to begin practice.

To our complete surprise, we really didn’t suck that badly. The yoga practice itself was relatively mellow, with your basic sun salutations and victorious breath through the nose. My personal favorite was downward facing dog; I let my head hang and looked back between my legs to find the same stunning beauty of the picturesque pond, but upside down. The water became the sky. The trees along the opposite bank were growing downward. My first thought was that the view was breathtaking; my second thought was that Mary’s board was floating directly behind my mom’s, and with the kind of hip-raising that the pose called for, her head was probably painfully close to my mom’s butt. I chuckled to myself and really hoped that was the case.

There were a few points at which I could’ve easily tumbled off the board and into the cool blue water, but somehow, I didn’t.  The instructor laughed at my mom as she kept wheeling her head around to look at Mary.

“I can’t see you back there!” my mom exclaimed.

“That’s the point!” Mary answered contentedly. All three of us somehow managed to stay comfortably upright all the way through practice and the leisurely journey back to shore. And, as if that wasn’t enough, the wonderfully toned woman turned out to be one of the friendliest people we’d met all week. (On the car ride home, my mom still noted with a smile, “you know, she was strong, but she really wasn’t that flexible. Definitely not as flexible as us.”)

We decided SUP yoga was by far our favorite practice of the trip; our favorite practice of our entire lives, really. Mary admitted that yes, she had been uncomfortably close to my mom’s backside, and despite whatever trauma that might’ve caused, she had enjoyed the practice so much that she planned to sign up again for next week. Somehow SUP yoga had managed to live up to our gargantuan expectations. Short of finally receiving my letter from Hogwarts, I can’t think of many experiences more magical than a morning of yoga on the water.

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Athleta, call me

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posin’ with Amy and paddle boards

4 days, 4 yoga practices, 3 beaches, new opportunities and old friends. Thank you so much to all our hosts who let us mooch so shamelessly, we couldn’t have done any of this without you. Thank you devoted readers, all twelve of you, for following along with our yoga adventure. And Mom, thanks for not killing me in my sleep even though I made fun of you on the Internet for four days in a row; goodness knows you had plenty of opportunities. You’re my favorite lunatic.

See you back here next Monday, my friends.

Namaste,
Hannah

Seavasana (Road Trip Part III)

19 Jul 2013 2 Comments

by Hannah in Meditation, Road Trip, The Zone, Yin Yoga Tags: , , , , , , ,

When the alarm went off at 7 this morning, my mom and I both groaned and rolled over in our cozy little four-poster bed. Usually we’re early risers, but we were up late talking with our marvelous friend and host, Mary. Mary usually lives in Seattle, but has moved back to Cape Cod for the summer. Her house is a gorgeous blend of new and old, antique and crafty; every time I walk into a room I discover an eccentric trinket or fascinating piece of art that I hadn’t noticed before. And she has a deck with lounge chairs, so my mom and I are enamored.

We eventually crawled out of bed, hopped into our yoga clothes, and made fun of each others’ hair for a few minutes. (Hers was sticking out in matted, wavy chunks, while mine had frizzed up in every direction in some kind of psychotic halo; I swear I looked like Kramer from Seinfeld. Humidity is not our friend.) If Mary noticed our ridiculous ‘dos, she politely pretended otherwise.

We hit the road by 7:30AM, in what I have come to believe is the only way to travel around Cape Cod in a heat wave: via convertible.

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Top down, hands up, fingers playing in the warm breeze, cruising to a private club to practice yoga on the beach. If it weren’t for our accidental afros, I’d have thought we were celebrities.

We arrived at the fancy little beach club just before 8 and met our instructor, Nancy, who explained that we would be practicing Yin yoga. She told us to grab a mat, a blanket, and a block, and that we could take a spot anywhere on the beach.

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The spot was so beautiful, she probably could’ve told us to start chopping wood and I would’ve found a way to be happy about it. But when I asked Nancy to explain the basics of Yin yoga to me before class, I had a feeling I’d be in for a challenge.

“Are you familiar with the ideas of Yin and Yang?” she asked.

“Oh yes, I think so,” I nodded enthusiastically. (I probably should’ve known that having jammed to Get Low by Lil Jhon featuring the Ying Yang Twins at high school dances didn’t really count, but I had a feeling she was going to explain things anyways.)

“Yin and Yang are the opposing forces of the universe; they’re in everything and they’re in each other,” she explained. “But our culture- our lives- are very much dominated by Yang. Yang is the force of doing, while Yin is the act of observing. Today we’ll be exploring this Yin energy, holding gentle poses for 3-5 minutes, focusing more on just being rather than doing.” She ended her explanation with a friendly smile, truly excited by the 90 minute meditation that lay ahead of us.

“Thank you,” I smiled back, “I’m looking forward to the practice! I’ll see you out on the beach.” I gathered my items, turning to my mom as we descended the wooden steps to the sand, “just a warning. This is a very meditative form of yoga.” She groaned.

Meditation is not our strong suit.

Mary, however, let out a cheer when she heard we had chosen a more gentle form of practice. (She’s biked across Martha’s Vineyard, windsurfed on Cape Cod, and once learned how to snowboard on a whim, but for some reason she feels her yoga skills are lacking.) We set up our towels, found a comfortable position, and waited for class to start.

For the next hour and a half, we practiced the most gentle, kind, unassuming form of yoga on the planet. Short of laying in shavasana for an hour and a half, I’m really not sure how it could’ve been any more relaxed. In each position we were encouraged to support ourselves with either a blanket or a block, to make ourselves comfortable and let go further into the ground with each exhale. The goal was to stay present and relaxed.

“In almost every aspect of our lives, we’re encouraged to reach more, do more, stretch more. In Yin yoga, we are just trying to let go. Don’t push yourself like you would in a regular yoga class. Find your edge, where you’re present but comfortable, where you feel a little bit of that delicious relaxation.” She used the word delicious several times. I’ll admit it was an unexpected choice of adjective for a yoga practice on the beach, but every time she said it I couldn’t help but smile a little. Delicious. Like a fresh nectarine, or Daniel Craig’s jawline.

Relax. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Western culture is packed with Yang energy- the need to strive, to judge, to have more, to do better. (Mary observed that the abrasive yet lovable Grey’s Anatomy character Christina Yang was probably named with this energy in mind, and also admitted that she had been thinking about Christina for a good portion of the meditation time.) Yin energy, the ability to simply be, seems to us a totally foreign concept.

So naturally, my first instinct was to fight it. I wanted to flow, to move, to sprint, to do something besides lay on my side and breathe. It was truly one of the harder yoga practices I’ve ever done. I found meditation for a few minutes at a time. I tried to match my breathing with the crashes of the nearby waves. I wished death upon every fly that took a bite out of my legs. (There were several.) Overall, I think Nancy would agree that my Yin could use a little practice. But at the end of class, there came something spectacular enough to give Yin yoga a special place in my heart forever.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present, “seavasana.”

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I really can’t decide which is better, the posture or the pun. Floating like the most relaxed of buoys, rocking with each wave, listening to your own breath as ocean water fills your ears. It was magical.

And of course we couldn’t leave without a beach photoshoot.

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cheesin’ with Nancy

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I surrendered to my body’s plea for physical activity and went on a run through Mary’s neighborhood after class. This was an undeniably Yang-like thing of me to do, but working up a sweat after all that relaxation just felt so good. And really, I’m not sure that Yang-ing all the time is such a terrible thing; after all, Christina has become one of the best cardiac surgeons at Seattle Grace. (That’s what I’d guess, anyways. I more or less boycotted Grey’s after they started killing off everyone and their mothers.) I think everyone needs a little Yang- the motivation to strive and to act. But I think everyone might need to step back every once in a while and find their Yin too. Especially if it includes a shot at seavasana. (Seriously, next time you’re at the beach, seavasana your heart out. You won’t be sorry.)

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Somehow we’re already coming up on our last day of the trip, but I hope it’ll be something of a grand finale. Tomorrow morning, 7AM, dreams will be coming true. Two words: paddleboard yoga. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow night. If you want a preview, we’ll be looking something like this:

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Namaste,
Hannah

The Colors of the Wind (Road Trip Part II)

18 Jul 2013 4 Comments

by Hannah in Bikram Yoga, Kripalu Yoga, Meditation, Road Trip, The Zone Tags: , , , , , , ,

Yes, I did manage to haul my ass out of bed at 5:45 this morning and back to Bristol Yoga Studio for a second Kripalu class. I left a few minutes later than planned and walked into the studio at 6:32 AM, after class had already started. There was a friendly-looking young woman at the front of the serene room with the wooden floors, and only three other students in the room. I discreetly joined them (or as discreetly as one can join a quiet room when she accidentally drops her water bottle upon entry) and jumped right into my practice.

I didn’t think it was possible, but this class was even slower and more meditative than the practice we did last night. The postures weren’t designed to challenge our muscles, but rather to stretch and relax them. Our instructor’s voice was soft and gentle, telling us to let go of our thoughts, to allow ourselves to release any tension or preoccupation we may have held coming into class. There was no right way to perform this yoga; she emphasized over and over again that this was our practice, offering several different modifications for each posture that we should choose depending on what felt best for our bodies.

A different experience from Bikram, to say the least.

The instructor told me after class that the word Kripalu actually means “compassion,” which would explain the gentle nature of the practice. But the practice in meditation is just as hard, if not harder, than the physical challenges that Bikram hurled at my sweaty body for thirty days. I feel like I’m reaching a little further into my zone with every class.

After practice, I drove back to Sarah and Brian’s house blasting music louder than most neighborhoods probably wanted to hear before 8AM on a Wednesday, but I was on a yoga high. Relaxed muscles, clear mind, positive energy- and the day had just begun.

After a quick breakfast, we headed to the beach for the morning.

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From the beach, we stopped back at the house for a lunch even quicker than breakfast, and then headed off to the day’s main event: sailing with Sarah and Brian.

Sailing itself would’ve been exciting enough, as I’d never been on a sailboat before, but this was no ordinary sailing experience. Sarah, an OT professor at Tufts University, badass ski instructor at Loon Mountain, and one of my favorite human beings on the planet, also happens to be paralyzed from the waist down. She was hit by a car when she was twenty three years old, and has been taking the world by storm on wheels ever since.

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In her free time, Sarah sails. And by sails, I mean she skillfully races sailboats and wins international competitions. She’ll be traveling to Ireland in a few weeks with Brian and Ellie to compete. (But keep in mind, this is just a hobby.)

As we set sail on the beautiful blue water of Narraganset Bay, I was given the responsibility of manning the rope connected to the main sail, the technical name of which I’ve already forgotten. Within about three minutes I proved my inability to do anything that would benefit the boat at large (i.e. pulled when I should’ve eased up, admired the arms of a handsome man on a nearby boat instead of actively following Sarah’s directions) and my mom politely took over main sail duties. She pulled that rope with more muscle and confidence than Johnny Depp in a Captain Jack Sparrow costume, and I have to admit, I was impressed. She’s just so beautiful and strong, you know?

(After she read yesterday’s wedgie comment, my mom told me that she thought any readers who don’t know her personally will probably think she’s some sort of unsophisticated lunatic. To which I responded, “but what about the ones who do know you personally?”)

(Just kidding, I totally didn’t say that, that would’ve been rude. She is, at the very least, an incredibly sophisticated lunatic. The world’s most kindhearted, most giving, most sophisticated lunatic. And I meant what I said about those sailing skills. She gave that boat the business.)

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Once we found our rhythm, the five of us had quite a lovely afternoon on the water. After about an hour or two of smooth sailing (puns!), Sarah made a happy observation.

“We always say you don’t have time to come out and sail, but you just have to make time. It’s so peaceful out here, and quiet, away from everything that’s happening on land.” She looked over at me. “Hannah, this is definitely some kind of yoga.”

“Oh totally, it’s meditation,” my mom agreed. “Hann, that can be your post for tonight! Active meditation!”

And so, here we are. After a few hours out on the sailboat, watching the blue water pass beneath us and enjoying the wind’s salty spray, I could easily see a connection between sailing and yoga. A calm place, a tranquil escape, a focus on something outside of yourself. Or maybe a focus on something inside of yourself. Even in the intense atmosphere of a race, Sarah has to remain calm and clear-headed to make decisions and lead her crew. She must stay in the present moment and avoid panic. She has to let go and see where the wind takes her.

And isn’t that all we strive for in yoga? The ability to let go and follow the wind?

Well, that’s what I’m striving for anyways. To let go, to calm my mind, to be the best that I can. And hey, if I learn to paint with all the colors of the wind, that’s just an added bonus. So Sarah and Brian, if you get around to reading this, thank you so much for an incredible two days. I’m sure we’ll be back for more adventures.

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(I promise I’m far less competent than these pictures might lead you to believe.)

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Sarah, in her happy place.

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The whole gang!

My eyelids are starting to droop, so I should probably head to sleep. More yoga, beaching, and exploring to be done tomorrow! Look out Cape Cod, here we come.

Namaste,
Hannah

Pick Your Wedgies With Pride (Road Trip Part I)

17 Jul 2013 2 Comments

by Hannah in Anusara Yoga, Bikram Yoga, Kripalu Yoga, Road Trip, Vinyasa Yoga Tags: , , , , , , ,

My apologies for the late post, we’re just getting in from our first day of yoga adventuring. It started with several hours in the car as we dropped my marvelous sister off at a 4-day scholar athlete leadership camp, and we hit some heinous traffic on a Massachusetts highway (totally unheard of, right?). My mom swore far more than necessary and received several middle fingers through closed car windows as we swerved into Panera for lunch, but other than that, our journey to Rhode Island went relatively smoothly.

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Tonight we practiced at Bristol Yoga Studio, an adorable hole-in-the-wall kind of place on a cozy street corner in the town of Bristol, RI. The studio had wooden floors, offered a modest view of neighboring street shops outside its front windows, and smelled faintly of incense; the atmosphere was more serene than any studio I’ve visited thus far. We quickly introduced ourselves to Tracy, the studio owner, and explained that this was our first stop on a most heroic yoga quest. Obviously, she was impressed.

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(My mom should’ve taken a photography class in high school, but Tracy rocks!)

The class we were attending was simply labeled “All Levels Yoga,” so my mom and I had no idea what kind of practice we were walking into. I figured there would quite a few dogs involved (at least upward and downward facing), and probably a couple warriors (namely, one and two). When I asked, Tracy told me that her yoga teachings had been heavily influenced by the Kripalu and Anusara practices. I nodded like I knew what that meant and followed my mom into the studio to set up our mats.

First and foremost, this yoga was not sweaty. The studio was a mere 78 degrees (I snuck a peek at the thermostat on our way in) which seemed downright chilly in comparison to the oppressively hot air outside. I barely broke a sweat once throughout the practice, which was equal parts refreshing and off-putting. It was similar to Bikram in the sense that we held difficult positions for long amounts of time, but also similar to Vinyasa in the sense that we flowed through series of movements. Very, very slowly.

“This practice isn’t about what you think, it’s about what you feel. Stop thinking, and just feel where your body is, what it needs, right now.” Tracy’s voice was gentle and encouraging. Maybe it was her insightful dialogue, or maybe it was the ultra-soothing shade of blue they had chosen to paint the walls, but the whole thing had a meditative quality that I’d never before experienced in a yoga practice. The sun was setting outside and casting fire-orange shadows across the studio floor. My breath sounded like the ocean waves that I knew were crashing just a few blocks from where we stood. Feel, don’t think; feel, don’t think. My muscles felt strong as we settled into Warrior Two. I am inhaling, I am exhaling. I am inhaling, I am ex-

I snuck a glance to the left at my mom just in time to see her covertly pick a wedgie. She might kill me for posting this, which would kind of put a damper on our whole little trip here, but seeing that wedgie-adjustment was an integral part of my practice. An integral part of my growth as a human being, really. A perfect juxtaposition of the poetic and the priceless. I mean, everybody’s gotta adjust their underwear every now and again, especially in the middle of a challenging yoga position that requires extended lunging. But it felt like the divine yoga gods were sending me a message: even in your most spectacular, beautiful, lyrical moments, you must never forget that somewhere, someone is picking their wedgie.

Life is mysterious, life is silly. All you can do is try to take it all in.

And so we finished practice, feeling refreshed and balanced and inspired and hungry. Our friends who are so graciously providing us with shelter on this fine night, Sarah, Brian, and their daughter Ellie, met us for dinner at a spectacular seaside grill.

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Ellie and I hammin’ it up on the restaurant pier

We finished the night with a trip to the ice cream stand, and all seems right in the world. For now, anyways. I told myself I’m going back to Bristol Yoga (a 20 minute drive away) for 6:30AM tomorrow, and things may not feel so sparkly and wonderful when my alarm goes off at 5:45. But I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. Approximately six hours from now.

So mom, when you read this, I’m sorry for the wedgie comment, but you really led me to a little epiphany there. You’re the best, I love you a lot, and I promise I’ll come to bed in like ten minutes.

To all my other readers, I’ll talk to you tomorrow night. Pick your wedgies with pride, my friends.

Namaste,
Hannah

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