Does the so-called "yogic journey" necessitate an instagram account? a hashtag? a facebook page?

As i practice into the body of my yoga, does it need to be on display to be loved, to be true, and to be worthwhile? Why do I struggle with my ego each time I see a handstand photo online?

(How can I even write this? So many people who i love finding art in their asana. Do i betray them?)

Do i betray myself if i never shine as bright as them? If I never achieve asana-greatness will I never be a yogi? Am I not trying hard enough?

What does it mean to be a yogi?

Do I need to have long legs, supple hamstrings, and colourful eco-friendly tights?

Is that one rung on the ladder to G-d's golden treehouse? 

If I become a yogic body will i come closer to a yogic mind?

I can't find G-d in that.

But then these days I don't even want to try. I just want to practice being this.

This. Being.

How can I love it more?

I ask. I feel. I navigate emotions like captain ahab. From a pile of bones sitting on a floor. The rising and falling of waves.

I am the white whale.

This isn't even a yogic journey. Because, really, "yogic" doesn't mean anything. It's just a word. It's just the way I'm expressing coming back to myself. But it's nothing really. It's so simple, it's not even good or bad. It's just becoming more right where i am. 

I think on that journey everything becomes more and more like love. Each moment is of utmost importance. In each encounter i meet a soulmate. 

The journey is so vast it includes all of life, yet so simple it becomes narrowed to one task. The practice of peace. 

Asana robs me of peace when it stirs my ego. Asana draws me into peace when it shows me the ever-changing nature of feeling, breath, circumstances. 

When I practice with the intention of peace, Asana is just another way I love myself.

life is a playground. tag, you're it!

My plan is to play through life!

Play through work. Play through "responsibilities." Play on holidays. Play through the smooth times. Play through trouble. Play through sadness. Play like a child, laughing, trying, flailing and falling, growing silent in concentration, using my mind to solve a problem and sharing. Helping others, everyone is a potential friend, and asking for help. I know I don't know everything.

I never want to strive to "work hard" again. I vow to no longer listen to those who tell me that success in life is achieved by working really really really hard (as though I must suffer difficulty and strain to be worthy of success!). I want to work soft. I want to work gentle. I want to work easy. I want to work playfully.

When something takes me in a flurry of interest, I want to get caught up in it, involved in it. I want to be passionate.

I don't plan to beat myself up for anyone or anything anymore. I don't want to fight. I like to play nice. This is my one beautiful life and I plan to love all of it.

A lofty goal. (at least you can see I'm not without ambition!)

Play is a way of interacting with the world that sees everything and everyone as inherently on my side. We are all friends in a schoolyard. We play different games and in each game we play different roles, but it's always just for fun. Nothing is so serious because this too shall pass.

Have you ever looked at your corporate job and thought, "these guys are taking this game waaaay too seriously"!? They are fighting and being rude. They talk to their mates as though the organizational structure is a real thing. They hurt themselves by getting stressed out and neglecting their health and their loved ones!

Can they not see that life is made of tiny moments of ecstasy? Can they even feel ecstasy any more?

But I don't hate the player nor the game! I say, if you can find a game you want to play, get into it! Enjoy! Sweat! Push your limits! But only for the love of it. Only if you can feel your soul delighting as it pours forth through you into the task. If you wake up at 2:30 am grasping for your phone so you can record the dream-load of ideas that was just gifted to you and email your future self at the office ("oh what did I mean by "create pyramid spreadsheet for Alberta possums" anyway?????").

Yes, do it for the love of it. Else, don't put your attention to it at all.

But my process of play doesn't just extend to the workplace. I am playing while I drive my pick-up truck (yes, that's me singing and smiling with the breeze in my face). I am at play when I hang the washing (getting immense satisfaction from using the least number of pegs on the most number of clothes), and when I cook (talking, of course, to the carrots and eggplant as I chop, "you little guys are going to join the other veggies in a yummy curry now and be loved and enjoyed by us all!").

But play isn't really about turning everything into a game. It is more a quality of being that invokes lightness, curiosity, and good humour. 

Play says, "I am open."

As in, "pass the ball, I am open!" "What do you want to do tonight? I am open!" "What do you think about this first draft? I am open!" "How can we resolve this issue together? I am open."

I am open to receive. I am open to feel. I am open to you. I am open to life in all forms that it shows up.

So waddya say? Wanna play?

Love,

R

some things never come clean

I had a dream that I was in a beautiful hotspring in a secluded mountain. There were some friends with me and we all sat on a rock ledge, our feet dangling over into a deep cavern below, up from which swirled bubbles of soupy endothermic heat. Not a watery hell. A great cooker of life. An earthly birth canal, which bathed us in subtle energizing tranquility. 

Small creatures and deep-sea fish swam around us, exploring us. A long pink fish with a wide-open mouth and blue gills came close and tasted each of our bodies. Some observed calmly in curious union with the stranger, but some were startled and splashed it away like frightened animals.

I took a large bowl and dipped it into the pool, filling it with salty life - small fish, sea plants, strange bits of organic and inorganic matter. I began to wash them, one hand in the bowl agitating lightly the suspension. I rinsed and rinsed, each time pouring out the cloudy liquid, as though washing the chickpeas before cooking them. And each time filling again the bowl with water from the hot spring. Patiently and gently I washed. Then someone said to me, "some things never come clean, Rikki."

The dream ended and I woke up in a beautiful peace.


Love,

R

why i decided to embrace and love my imperfection

I have been getting in touch with my imperfection.

It has been a heart-opening experience and I highly recommend it. 

I don't know where this belief comes from that says we have to be perfect. We have to be perfect to be lovable. We have to be perfect to be worthy. It's like we have to justify the air we breathe and the space we occupy. Maybe it's from growing up and growing into competition that we learn we have to beat out other people to get the things we want, or even to fulfill our basic needs in life. Can we unlearn this lie in time? Can we know that we are innately deserving?

Like so many people, I have a drive within me to be perfect. For me specifically, the belief that I need to be perfect manifests as trying to always say the right thing, do the right thing and be a "good person." Or even, I hate to say it but I have to be honest, to appear to others as if I am a good person. It's like, if I can just prove to everyone that I am good then they will like me and then I will deserve good things that come to me. (Or, on a darker level, then I can continue to play the innocent victim of the bad things that happen to me.) 

I acknowledge the benefit in continuously trying to improve myself, however when that is attempted through judgment and scolding of myself it is ultimately self destructive.

The consistent self-dialogue that assesses everything I do and say, and judges whether or not I am a good person because of it, is draining. It is very draining. It feels like there is always someone watching me and pointing out my flaws. Ouch.

I reached the point the other week when I made (what I perceived to be) a mistake (one that apparently proved to me once and for all that I am a bad and unworthy person [laughs]) and the negative reaction that I had in my mind completely brought to light this pattern of self-talk within me. I could see how I was judging myself. 

What did I do about it? 

Well, I got very self-absorbed for a couple of days, trying to piece together some sort of acceptable self-image that my ego could hang on to for dear life. It didn't work. Then I finally fell apart. I decided to accept what had happened and I decided to forgive myself. 

Then a great thing happened. I decided to forgive myself for everything.

This overwhelming forgiveness of myself played out as acceptance of every imperfection I could see (and there were many). I noticed something I did poorly and I forgave myself. I noticed a characteristic I have and I forgave it. As I held different aspects up to the light, I realized fully that I am, believe it or not, not perfect, and that that is normal and OK. Woof. What a revelation! (by the way, one that I've had many times before, but always manage to forget, and will likely forget again because, you know, I'm not perfect).

Then another beautiful thing happened. I began to recognize the same imperfection I saw in myself in everyone else. 

We are not these isolated pods that go about our lives in static separation. (who knew?)

As I unveiled my own vulnerability, I was privy to the vulnerability of everyone I encountered. This brought about a feeling of connectedness, community and empathy that was so fulfilling and that I too often miss out on when I am trapped in my internal dialogue.

If we come to our lives from a place of imperfection and acceptance we are open to see, to learn and to experience.

So here's my new practice. Each day and each moment I remember, to shave off any pretense and ground myself in joyful imperfection.

Love,

R

the pursuit of perfection will always be a pursuit

"Nothing stops the forward march of any creative endeavor like the need to do it absolutely perfectly. And who is to judge what is 'perfect' anyway? What I have judged full of flaws so many others have called terrific. Maybe the definition of Perfection is something that actually gets done."
~ Neale Donald Walsch

I have often been paralysed by the fear of getting something wrong. 

This is the reason why I hid my creative side away for many years. I couldn't show it to the world until it was "perfect," until it was "ready." I thought, surely I have talent. I could catch glimpses of it here and there, but it wasn't good enough yet. It wasn't ready to go out into the world until I could know for sure that it would be admired by all who saw it. 

What I realised when I started putting myself out there is that, for all your anxiety and pining over perfection, other people simply don't care as much as you do about whatever it is you're doing. And this is truly a great and liberating recognition. I realised that all I can really ask of people is that they allow me a space to do what I do, to wiggle around, squirming awkwardly into my "art." Maybe some people will like it, maybe they will care, but the vast majority won't even notice. What power this is, really, what freedom!

Not only will I never be perfect, I never have to be perfect. No one expects that of me.

I also realised that I'm never going to get it done completely. There will always be something I wish I said or did better, and you know what, that is exactly the inspiration for the next piece and the next piece and the next one: trying to touch something more and more real. 

I will often be reading something from a writer that I love and I will think, "wow, this is truly great, I never could have come up with this." And it's true, I couldn't have. Those thoughts and those words are uniquely theirs. It is their precious gift to the world. 

I also have a unique and precious gift to share with the world, but more importantly, I now understand that the only way I can do that is to actually do it. Like, Neale Donald Walsch says, stop worrying about perfection and just act, create, put it out there. The consequences can't be as bad as if I stifled that creativity.

Maybe we pursue perfection or truth or beauty as an ideal goal in our creative endeavours and the actual pieces that are born into reality are just symptoms of that pursuit. This one might grasp some little kernel of what we are reaching for, and that one something else. Or maybe we missed the mark on that one, but at least now we can see it. It doesn't matter. 

Everything we create are merely offshoots of something greater that is within all of us. What we create doesn't make us great or loveable or perfect. It is our innate greatness, lovableness and perfection that makes whatever we pursue, whatever we give form to, great if we can tap into it. 

Like many failed experiments, we hone in closer to discovering something about ourselves and our lives. No more hiding. No more excuses.

Love,
R