Best Day Ever

My six-year-old son and I are standing outside the classroom door. It's a cold and dreary Wednesday morning, and we've just muddled through the before-school ritual of dress-eat-gather-and dash out the door. We're standing here with a few other kids and assorted parents, waiting for the day to begin.

Mrs. Walter opens the classroom door, peeks her head into the hallway, and waves to her students. Kids pick up their oversized backpacks, mumble their goodbyes, and slowly make their way toward their beloved teacher's open arms.

I spy my friend Amy near the door. I watch her kneel down in front of her son. She places her hands on this small boy's shoulders and looks directly into his eyes, as if  - for this moment - no one else in the world exists.

"Best day ever," she chirps with a smile. And then she kisses her son on the cheek and dashes down the art-strewn hallway and off into her day.

I think about this moment all day long. It was an instant, really, over in two breaths. It would have been so easy to miss in the crowded corridor and in our own goodbyes. But something about what I witnessed won't let me go. Like a bell peeling through the sky, that moment startled me out of my self-absorbed reverie and awakened some possibility within.

Best Day Ever. Could this grey and ice-strewn day in the thick of midwestern winter possibly be the best day we've ever had? Is it, perhaps, over-reaching a bit to suggest that this is the best day ever to a six-year-old boy on a cold morning inside a little school in a nondescript city in Ohio? And on a Wednesday in January, no less?

Amy's words ring through the morning, as my toddler and I putter about at home, cleaning up the oatmeal and lying on the carpet with legos and the cats, counting the hours until we schlepp back to school to retrieve big brother.

Best Day Ever. Is it a wish, as in, "I hope you have the best day ever?"

Is it an instruction, like, "Please do what you can to make this the best day in the world?"

Or, perhaps, it is a truth, a revelation: "You may not see it right now, but if you incline your eyes in just the right way, you will see that this ordinary day is actually the best day ever - the only chance you have to be fully alive - in the whole wide world."
 
A few days later, with snow melting into slush, Amy and I meet again in front of the classroom door. When the door opens, Amy repeats the same goodbye with her son: a hug, a kiss and a "Best day ever." This is a ritual, I see, a parting offering she leaves with her son every single day.

I begin to look forward to hearing her sing out these words in the morning rush, as if some of the shininess of her blessing might spill in our direction. Her words echo through my brain and rekindle some hopeful warmth in my heart. I begin to wonder whether my family, too, could make this the best day ever. Maybe we could try a little harder, rising to the challenge of making something beautiful and bright with the gift of this day we have been given. But what would that even look like?

Best Day Ever. This is a strange memory to slip to the surface right now, with a pandemic rolling across the globe, leaving grief and devastation in its wake. The world seems to be falling apart, with society's weakest links painfully exposed, and with so many people suffering so deeply. What will the world look like in a year? Who will have jobs and who will be hungry? Who will be alive and who will be dead? Will we still be social distancing, hungry for connection and adventure in the world? Panic floods my chest when I peer too far into our collective future. This time feels so much like a purgatory, as if we're all just waiting for the other cosmic shoe to drop.

My panic eases, though, when I reel my mind in from the distant future and rest it closer to the here-and-now. Life feels a little more manageable when I focus my eyes on the lilies bursting into bloom in the garden, on the hot mug of tea in my hands, on the voices of my children right by my side. Maybe the answer - now and always - is to take good care of the present and trust that the future will take care of itself.

It's that old story about driving at night down a country road: Your headlights only need to throw enough light to see a little way down the road, and in that way, mile by mile, the headlights guide us safely home. The more distant future is too much to grasp. But perhaps we can gracefully manage the gift of this day, this moment, this breath.

Or, as theologian Henri Nouwen wrote: "The art of living is to enjoy what we can see and not complain about what remains in the dark. When we are able to take the next step that follows, with the trust that we will have enough light for the step that follows, we can walk through life with joy and be surprised at how far we go. Let’s rejoice in the little light we carry and not ask for the great beam that would take all shadows away."

Best Day Ever. What if this is the answer to the question of how to manage this scary time? What if the answer is right in front of us, in this breath, right here and right now? What if we take up the challenge of shining brightly today? What if we use this moment to bridge the gap between ourselves and others, to live into the deep and mysterious connections that bind us together through love? What if we use our energy to shine a little light into the world, right now, today, in whatever way we can?

This possibility echoes through my mind each morning, as I sip my tea and contemplate the day ahead. Best Day Ever fills me with possibility and hope. It feels like a challenge we are invited to rise to meet, with strength and a tender heart. I breathe in the freshness of the morning, gaze at the twittering of the birds, and squint into the rays of the rising sun. I peer into the long stretch of the day ahead, and I ponder how I can coax life into deepest bloom, not just for myself but for others, too.

Maybe today we'll make super-thick chocolate milkshakes and sip them in the backyard while looking at the vast blue sky. Maybe we'll sit shoulder-by-shoulder at the puzzle table, with an audio book droning on beside us. Maybe we'll head down the road together in the dimming light to watch the sun set over the neighborhood field. Maybe we'll create something beautiful: music or stories or cards to send to faraway friends.

This might be a good day to make a phone call to a friend who is living alone. To dig our fingers into the dirt and urge our gardens into bloom. To start a compost pile, perhaps. To reach out to others, near and far, and to rise up in ways that allow others to have Best Days, too. Maybe we can use today's blank slate to educate ourselves about the world and its struggles, to contemplate how we can contribute to a stronger, healthier, happier world for all. The possibilities are endless.

I must admit, some mornings this feels like a high bar to reach toward. And on these days, when my heart feels heavy and tight, I soften with a sigh into the possibility that today might be a Good Enough Day, or, perhaps, the Best Day We Can Manage, Given the Circumstances. Or at the very least, a Day with at Least a Few Shining Moments. Even so, this feels like a hopeful response to the morning light, and far better than the alternative of curling up into a little ball and waiting breathlessly for the storm to pass.

Who wants to emerge from our caves in a year or more, blinking into the bright sun, feeling like we've lost a year of our lives? And if disaster does strike between now and then, wouldn't the proper response have been to have leaned into the light even then, making the most of whatever time together we've been given?

And so, with a nod of thanks to Amy and that long ago moment, I offer up the gift of the Best Day Ever. Who knows what the future may bring? Who knows how long this pandemic will last? In the meantime, let's do our best to string together one Best Day after another, filled with laughter and connection and presence and love, not just for ourselves but also for the greater world.

The ancient sages once taught that each day is a lifetime, and the world is born anew each day. The sun rises and a new life is placed into our hands. It is ours to do with what we like - to squander or to savor. We have until the sun sets this evening to bring our world into fullest light and fullest bloom. And then it is gone forever.

Night falls and then tomorrow, if we are lucky, the sun will rise again. And another Best Day Ever will be born.

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Listening as an Act of Love

It’s early morning, just at first light. The house is quiet and heavy with sleep. You’re the first one up. You recognize the possibility of this lovely moment.

You creep downstairs, put the kettle on, stealthily prepare your tea, and slip out the front door. You settle onto the front steps into a seat of peaceful repose, half of you still asleep and half craning your eyes upward toward the light. You sip and you soften into the ease of the waking day.

Your mind understands that it’s too early for to-do lists or ambition of any sort. There is not a thing you need to do quite yet. You exhale, and without even thinking, you settle into a receptive and open state. Nothing needs to happen, you recognize, and yet anything might.

And so you sit, watching the day slowly stretch her arms. The birdsong begins, the light begins to shift, the sky begins to glow. You hear the house creak, you feel the breeze whispering by, you feel your body rise and fall with each breath.

MYSTERY AND GRANDEUR
You sense an awakening in your soft heart, a renewed bloom of the shy light that shines within, a willingness to fall in love with the world yet again. You remember theologian Paul Tillich's words, "The first duty of love is to listen," and you know that in this soulful moment you have found your way into deep knowing of what he meant.

In these quiet moments of the morning, receptive and open and easy, you sense in your bones the necessity of listening, of opening yourself wide to the mystery and the grandeur of the world. You understand the importance of opening your mind and heart so wide that life pours into you with all its delicacy and strength. You sense the possibility of participating deeply in the world without needing to speak a word.

And you promise to remember this quieter way of being, even later, when the day begins to burn bright with activity and bustle. You commit to staying close to this whispering flame that flickers in your heart. You consider the possibility of listening to others just the way you’ve listened to the dawn, with the doors and windows of your heart open wide.

HAPPINESS, KINDNESS
You smile as you sense how full and tender this way of being feels within - expansive, curious, open to every thought and every sound. You understand the gift of bearing witness, of listening without judgment. You sense the healing balm of a soul who listens, truly listens, with a mind clear and a heart wide open.

And then you remember Mary Oliver’s words, “Watch, now, how I start the day in happiness, in kindness," and you feel like this wise poet is sitting right beside you, smiling. You vow to move forward with Oliver’s words on your lips all day as an offering to the greater world.

This very morning, it seems, you have  been given a new pair of ears that allow you to listen deeply to the song of life. And you sigh in profound happiness. Somehow, before the day has even lurched into action, you have been made whole.

You pledge to hold you close to love and loveliness, leaning in close to life and listening well. You promise to carry this openness out into the day ahead. Perhaps it will be a gift to others, just as it has already been for you.

The house begins to stir and you take one last sip of tea. You take a deep breath, listen to the morning song one last time, and promise to incline your ears, your eyes and your heart toward the world with openness, with ease, and with love that shines from the quiet, listening place within.

This essay was written for Dwelling in the Heart, Claudia's 2016 online lovingkindness immersion.

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The Community of Yoga

It’s 8:55 on Wednesday morning and students are filing into the studio. Coats are hung, shoes are kicked under the bench, and mats are dropped onto the floor. Hellos and hugs are offered as the lovely chatter of friends begins.

I listen carefully to snippets of conversation, catching up on news of the day from my perch at the front of the classroom. I hear tales of travels, illnesses, community happenings and family delights. I notice who is here and who we’re missing. And all the while I gauge the mood of the group, rejiggering my plan for our morning according to the energy my friends have carried with them into class.

At 9:05 each week the last student predictably breezes in, reminding us to begin. And for the next hour and a half we stretch and move and breathe and relax. We explore the limits and possibilities of our bodies and our minds. We shed our stress, restore our energy and reclaim our lives.

We’ve come together like this for more than 30 years. The cast of characters shifts from week to week. The location changes occasionally. But two things never change: First, we practice yoga. And second, we cultivate community. We foster a sense of friendship and camaraderie that reminds us that we are part of something greater than our small bodies and individual breaths.

WHOLENESS AND EASE
The word yoga means to yoke, and in the beginning the practice teaches us to reconnect the scattered parts of ourselves back into one complete whole. With each ounce of stress we shed, with each tight muscle we relax, we are brought back to a sense of wholeness and ease. We are returned to our truest selves.

With continued practice, though, a deeper understanding of yoga evolves. We begin to see how the practice not only yokes the body, mind and spirit together, but also yokes us to everyone and everything around us. Through yoga, our sense of self expands farther and farther beyond our skin until we take on all of life as our own.

It’s our Wednesday morning yoga class that has taught me this deeper understanding of yoga. I didn’t set out to build a community, just to teach a few friends some healing yoga stretches and relaxing ways to breathe.

But yoga works its magic - creating community it its wake - whether you ask it to or not. Thanks to my yoga students, I now understand that in some beautiful way, yoga is community. Yoga is seeing clearly and experiencing deeply the strong bond we share, the shared experience we live, the extent to which I am you and you are me and we are all in this together.

You get to know someone pretty well once you’ve done enough downward dogs together. You learn how people move and breathe and think. You learn who runs hot and who runs cold, who runs fast and who runs slow. You learn who can be counted on to add a little humor, who always has the perfect book recommendation, and who is always ready with a hug and a supportive word.

And in the beautiful container of yoga, you also learn to take on everyone around you as family, in the best sense of the word. You begin to love people not just in spite of their curiosities and foibles but because of them. You take an interest, as a matter of course, in the ups and downs of the lives of others. You embrace each soul around you as a vital and important light in the great constellation of life.

I think about this every Wednesday morning as I watch this mystery unfold in our yoga class. Each of us enters with our own frustrations, fears, wishes and needs. And yet each of us, just by virtue of showing up, is knit into the greater whole of all of us. Breath by breath and moment by moment, we are banded together into a beautiful circle of care and support.

Every week I remind my students how this works. When we’re feeling energized and balanced, we share that sense of vitality and support with those around us. We reach out to those who are struggling. We offer our support and energy. And when it’s our turn to feel dispirited or empty, we let ourselves be held and carried by that beautiful network of helping hands that surrounds us.

PEACE AND SOFTNESS
After 90 minutes of stretching and breathing, we settle into a few blissful moments of deep relaxation. I smile as I survey the room, which has settled into a soft and lovely glow. I sigh as my eyes survey my friends resting quietly, restored to some deeper peace and softness. I thank yoga, yet again, for working its magic, for guiding us back to ourselves, and for knitting us all together into one.

I pick up my Tibetan bowl, ready to chime us out of relaxation and off into our days. But then I inevitably pause, reluctant to disturb the collective peace and reverie that has descended upon us. Bowl still in hand, I sweep my gaze across the room, raising a hand and silently wishing each lovely member of our yoga community well.

“May you be happy,” I think, looking at one beautiful being. “May you be well,” I offer another, and then another. On and on, until I have wrapped the whole room in a blanket of goodwill.

I offer my silent thanksgivings to these beautiful souls and to this Wednesday morning tribe that embodies all yoga can be: a living expression of connection, community, and the love that binds us all together all the days of our lives

And then finally, I chime my bowl and bodies stir. Slowly, happily, each of us gathers our belongings and slips out into the day. And even though we head our separate ways, we remain yoked together by the practice of yoga, strengthened by those invisible strands of love and support that carry us all.

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The Gifts of Meditation

The ancient practice of meditation has made a home in our modern culture for good reason. Learning to steady the mind can help us stay calm and balanced amid the many stresses of our lives.

Meditation is an open and expansive state that arises when we are completely present in the here-and-now with clear vision and a welcoming spirit. It is a state of being rather than doing, and it fosters a profound sense of wakefulness and clarity. Regular meditation practice helps cultivate a sense of unshakeable ease and wellbeing in our lives.

It is possible to enter a state of meditation anytime, anywhere. In this state we feel completely absorbed in the moment as time stands still, the mind grows quiet, and the heart grows bright. In formal meditation practice, we set aside time each day to cultivate this state of being. With commitment, meditation becomes a dependable ally that helps us stay clear, balanced and open, even on the most challenging days. 

How does such a simple practice offer so many benefits? Much of the answer is a mystery, though I have come to love four important gifts of meditation.

1. MEDITATION TRAINS THE BRAIN TO BEHAVE

Left to its own devices, the mind tends to act like a monkey in a jungle, swinging from thought to thought, hooting, howling and generally stirring up trouble. (If you don't believe me, set a  timer for five minutes, close your eyes and watch what happens to your thoughts. I'm willing to wager that you will quickly discover that you, too, have at least a few monkeys in your brain.)

Meditation trains the mind to behave better. Just as we head to the gym to exercise our muscles, we settle onto a meditation cushion to train our brains. We teach our minds to focus, we guide ourselves away from unproductive thoughts, and we learn to act more skillfully. We train those monkeys within to behave in ways that support our lives rather than throw us off balance in sneaky and destructive ways.

Over time, with patience and persistence, we sharpen our ability to settle with ease into the present moment. We train the muscles in our minds to act wisely, in ways that support our deepest loves and values, and in ways that help not just ourselves but also the entire world.

Modern research confirms the power of this ancient practice to change our minds. Scientists have learned that the brains of meditators are different from those of non-meditators. They've learned how different states of mind activate different regulatory centers of the brain. And they've proven that meditation has the power to shift our nervous systems in ways that nurture balance and calm.

2. MEDITATION RETURNS US TO THE PRESENT MOMENT

Most of the time our minds are far away from the experience of the moment. We spend our days lost in thought, rehashing past events or fantasizing about the future. We get lost in discursive thinking, losing ourselves in long and dramatic monologs about our lives that may or may not be true.

Meditation returns us to the here-and-now, to a state of deeper presence in the world. Over and over we draw our awareness to the sensations of being alive in the moment, the only place where life can truly be lived. As we do this, we fall into a more direct, intimate and keenly felt experience of life as it passes through us. We wake up to the sheer wonder of being here, participating in all the joys and sorrows of the world.

As we begin to train our minds to more fully experience life lived now - instead of spending our days lost in thought - we sense a deeper amazement of the many gifts all around us. We commit to spending our days fruitfully and with care, rather than frittering them away in mindlessness and distraction. We learn to show up for our lives.

Birdsong sounds brighter. Water tastes cleaner. Chocolate tastes sweeter. A single smile warms our spirit all day. And the blue sky fills our hearts with a profound yet simple happiness. We fall wildly and wonderfully in love with all of life.

3. MEDITATION CULTIVATES WISDOM

Have you ever been to the beach just after a torrential storm? The waves churn, the sand darkens the water, and debris bobs all about. Sometimes it's impossible to see your toes as you wade along the shore. When the weather clears, though, the sand settles and the water grows clear enough to see all the marvels that swim amid the vast blue sea.

This settling and clarifying process is just what meditation does inside of us. As our brains quiet, our stirred up thoughts settle. Life comes into cleaner and clearer focus. Delusions slip away. Wisdom bubbles up. We begin to see more clearly what our lives are all about and we are inspired to act in ways that support these fundamental values.

As the lens of our awareness clears, we grow cleaner and more balanced. We learn how to respond with wisdom and care to both the delights and challenges that life throws our way. We develop skills that allow us to live in greater balance and harmony, even amid the turbulence of the outer world.

4. MEDITATION FOSTERS CONNECTION

As we grow more adept at settling our thoughts, wonderful epiphanies arise. Our minds and hearts grow more expansive and whole. We sense a deeper connection between ourselves and others. We begin to understand how deeply our own joys and sorrows are entwined with the joys and sorrows of others.  

Our sense of self broadens beyond the boundaries of our own skin. We grow kinder and more tenderhearted. We act not just on behalf of our smaller selves but also on behalf of all of life.  And we finally understand that love matters most, in the beginning and in the end.

Through diligent meditation practice, we sense an ever-deepening sense of unity with all that is, was and will be. We are returned to our deepest self and to the widest world, in clarity, happiness and peace.

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A Few Easy Breaths

I

When the world threatens to overwhelm, I lie down. 

I settle onto the ground and exhale.

I give up. I give in. And for a few sweet moments, I let go of absolutely everything I know. 

I befriend the earth. I let gravity overtake me. I invite my whole being to soften, to melt, as I hand my life over to earth's faithful embrace. 

I relinquish my tight hold on life and let everything beyond me spin off in its own uncontrollable way. I remind myself that I can let go of everything now and still there will be no place to fall.

I nestle into the quiet lullaby of the breath. Slowly and surely this beautiful ebb and flow erodes the stickiness and stress within. Breath by breath and moment by moment, the angst slips away and the mind begins to clear. I sense the quiet return of my sweeter, truer self.

I stay a little longer. I unravel a little more. I rest into the recovered peace of this moment, this tender space, this life-saving balm of the here and now, of heavy and light, of earth and sky. And I stay - breathing and surrendering and softening every bit of my being - for as long as it takes to reclaim my breath, my balance and my life.

II

I call this life-saving practice A Few Easy Breaths, or Grounding Practice, or sometimes Befriending the Earth. Some days I call it Defeated Mother Pose, and in my most desperate moments, I call it Just Giving Up. I share it with you on the off chance that you, too, might need a refuge from time to time, a soft spot to land when the waters of life grow turbulent and scary. I share this practice so that you, too, may find your way back home when you feel lost and overwhelmed.

Magic happens when after so much striving and angst, we give up and let everything be for just a little while. A soul-quenching sweetness returns when we turn away from the world's endless rush, from the relentless chatter, from the nonstop train of life. 

In order to live fully in the world, it seems, it is necessary to turn away every once in a while. To turn inward. To reclaim one's inner balance. To remember what holds us close. To let everything inessential fall away until nothing is left but stillness and presence and who we really are in the deepest folds of the wide-open world.

Even adults, it seems, need a time out from time to time.

III

Here's my gentle suggestion: The next time you feel desperate or lost, with your circuits overloaded and your body gasping for air, get as close as possible to the ground. Sit down, lie down, fall down, whatever you can manage.

I'm a big fan of collapsing onto the earth, but you could also climb into bed or nestle into your favorite comfy chair. In summer, a blanket out on the lawn feels perfect. In winter, tucked in tight in the coziest spot in the house might feel just right.

If you have the energy, grab a pillow or blanket on your way down to create a soft nest for yourself. The aim is to let your body rest completely, to feel held and to let go.

Once settled, invite your whole being to soften, to melt, to relinquish its tight grip on life. Release the shoulders, unclench the belly and notice everything that feels tight inside of you. Hand all that tension over to the earth.

Remind yourself that this troubling moment is not a life-threatening emergency. Say those words out loud if you need. (Sometimes I actually say, "Dear brain, this is not an emergency. No need to be on high alert. I am safe in this moment. I can soften and relax now into the ground beneath.")

Settle into the soothing melody of the breath, with its rise and fall, its ebb and flow. Let each inhalation soften you. Let each exhalation feel like a deep act of surrender. You’ll know you’re heading in the right direction when a soul-satisfying sigh of relief pours out of you. You’ll feel like a lost and fussy baby who has been placed in her mother’s arms and can finally soften and breathe once again. Everyone sighs in relief.

 

About now might be a good time to remind yourself that you have always managed before, that you have never actually fallen off the earth entirely. Now would be a good time to remember that all lives come with 10,000 joys and 10,000 sorrows, and that the rockiness of this moment will eventually flow into joy once again.

Remind yourself, too, that you have all the resources you need to manage this moment, this life. In this one moment - the only place to truly be alive - you are breathing and tender-hearted and whole.

Stay here until you feel like yourself again. This may take several moments. (And wouldn't it be beautiful if you even fell asleep here?) On a good day, you may feel free again after just a few easy breaths.

IV

Here's the mystery and the beauty of this practice: When you get close to the earth, when you genuinely hand your life over to her in a soft and faithful way, the earth generously gives back.

Like a good friend, the earth holds you close even as the turbulence of life roils on. You give up. You let go. You are held. And then when you are ready, the earth gently nudges you back to the wider world. In some strange and quiet alchemy, despair gives way to shades of possibility. Strength slips back into your bones. Your steady heart revives.

By letting go of all you think you know and all you think you should be, you are reclaimed, you are found. In growing heavy you make room for the light to enter once again. In emptying you are filled, and in dissolving you are made whole. 

 

You breathe again without fear, and you remember the sweet ways this life may be song. You remember the beauty and the loveliness of just being here, alive, awake and willing to take in the light. You rest here a little while, feeling utterly grounded and deep, and also as light and spacious as the air all around. 

If the practice has worked its magic, you will feel restored. You will feel returned to your truest self, clear-eyed and at ease. Your faithfulness will return in living color, as you remember that everything is going to be okay, that you can manage this mysterious adventure called life. 

 

 In handing yourself over to the earth you have also been gifted the sky.

V

Why not start right now? Why not slip down to the ground for just a few moments of ease and peace? Even now, can’t you feel the earth pulling you toward her, nudging you to relinquish the weight of your life for just a little while?

Settle close to the earth. Take a deep breath in, and then let a long and beautiful sigh of relief pour out of you. Breathe in again. And with each exhale, nestle a little more fully into the wide-open arms of the ground beneath.

Stay a while if you like. Let the rest of the world spin off in its own hurried orbit. Enjoy the view from down low. Smile at the sky so very high above. Enjoy a few easy breaths, befriending the vast and patient earth, letting everything go and everything be.

Perhaps in these few quiet moments you will find yourself, your life, your possibility and truth. You might even feel shards of dappled joy somewhere deep inside. And when you are ready, you will rise up and return to the wider world, still carrying earth's generous and faithful presence deep within your bones.

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Exploring Qigong

Are you ready to fall in love with something new? A simple practice, perhaps, that relaxes your body, clears your mind and leaves your spirit balanced and buoyant? A gentle exploration that doesn't require you to change your clothes, buy new equipment or even roll out your yoga mat?

If so, have I got a practice for you!

Qigong (pronounced chee gung) is a centuries-old movement and meditation practice designed to promote physical, mental and spiritual health. Through flowing movements, gentle breathing practices and mindful intention, this ancient Chinese art helps relieve the body of toxic stress while opening us to renewed streams of healing energy.

Qigong is a close cousin of traditional yoga, even though the practices were born in different countries and of different philosophies. Like yoga, qigong uses the body and the breath to promote a greater sense of being at home in the world, and also harnesses the power of the mind to promote clarity and light. And like yoga, it aims to cultivate vital energy within us - called prana in yoga and chi in qigong. The similarities are so great that qigong is sometimes even called "Taoist yoga."

But qigong relies on traditional Chinese medicine to explore the body, mind and spirit, rather than yoga's Indian vision. Its movements are generally more round, fluid and gentle than those in yoga, and they are always secondary to the mind, the breath, and a profound experience of internal energy flowing through us all. Qigong practitioners are counseled to never go to extremes of effort, and to always practice in a way that feels pleasant, open and enjoyable. They are also encouraged to practice outdoors whenever possible, in a way that fosters a profound sense of connection to nature and the greater world around us. Doesn't that sound enticing?

Although yoga is still my native language, I have been deeply enriched and enlivened by my exploration of qigong. I am in love with its vision of the inner workings of both the body and the universe, with energetic mappings that feel authentic and true. I love the language of qigong, which tells us we have "bubbling springs" and "fields of elixir" and "golden palaces" and more within us. I love the emphasis on our connection with the natural world. And I love how soothing and sweet it feels in body, mind and spirit. My children tell me that when I practice qigong, I always have a smile on my face.

If your interest is piqued, I have a few resources to get you started. For a general sense of what the practice is all about, I highly recommend  Mimi Kuo-Deemer's offering of the classic Eight Silken Brocades practice. This was my introduction to qigong, and I still return to it often. (Mimi Kuo-Deemer is a London-based yoga and qigong teacher and all-around lovely person. I highly recommend all of her offerings, which you can learn more about here.)

I've also enjoyed the clear and inspiring instruction offered by acupuncturist and qigong instructor Jeff Chand at his website qigongforvitality.com. Jeff offers a huge range of guided qigong practices that are accessible, enjoyable and enlivening. I pracitce at least one of his routines almost every day. For a taste, try this lovely practice for stress, anxiety and energy.

And if you suffer from insomnia, try this lovely qigong routine for deep and peaceful sleep.

If you're interested in diving a little deeper, I recommend the offerings of Ken Cohen, author of The Way of Qigong: The Art and Science of Chinese Energy Healing. Cohen also has created several excellent video and audio programs through SoundsTrue.

Have I inspired you to give qigong a try? I hope so. I hope you will find your exploration as nourishing and inspiring as I have. And I hope you fall in love with the practice even if - like me - you never plan to give up your yoga mat.

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Yoga Pose: Viparita Karani

We all need survival strategies to help us maneuver through life’s difficult days with some measure of sanity and grace. When the world threatens to overwhelm us, we need a plan: a way to hold ourselves together until the stormy weather passes, or perhaps a way to let everything fall apart without losing our faith completely.

Here’s my favorite survival strategy: I close the door to my yoga room, tune in to my favorite track of Wah!’s Savasana CD, hit the repeat button, and slip into viparita karani, or legs up the wall pose, one of my best friends in all of yoga. I drape a lavender-scented eye bag across my brow, exhale as soulfully as possible, and then invite the music's soothing rhythms and the posture's quiet softness to sink into every cell of my body.

I breathe. I melt. I surrender. My legs drain, my brain empties, my belly warms and settles. I linger here for ten minutes, twenty minutes, sometimes longer, until the magic of the pose drains every last drop of angst and agitation from my soul. And when I can bear to pull myself back to reality I roll over and sit up, refreshed and renewed. Inevitably I feel calmer and saner, and better able to manage life’s challenges with clarity and balance.

I’ll wager that viparita karani has the power to do the same for you. This soothing and restorative posture calms the nervous system, eases muscle fatigue, and helps restore healthy, restful breathing. Many yoga teachers offer viparita karani as an antidote to exhaustion, illness and weakened immunity. In addition, this time-tested posture invites us to drop beneath the surface of life into quieter and more introspective realms within.

GETTING INTO THE POSE
To begin, fold two thick blankets lengthwise and stack one neatly atop the other, creating a support that is long enough to prop your hips comfortably, and that is at least six inches thick and about ten inches wide. (A yoga bolster works well, too.) Place the blanket near the wall with its long edge running parallel to the baseboard, leaving a gap of just a few inches between the blanket and the wall.

The name of the game in viparita karani is to end up with the legs resting comfortably against the wall, with the pelvis and lower back supported on the bolster, and the upper body nestling quietly onto the floor. Getting there, unfortunately, is not necessarily a graceful affair. Some advanced yogis do a forward roll into the pose, but if you treasure your tailbone - or your wall - I wouldn’t recommend this strategy in the beginning.

We’ll try a slightly less acrobatic approach. Sit on the blanket with the left side of your body next to the wall and your feet on the floor. Using your hands for support, slowly shift your weight onto the outer right hip, and then lower your right shoulder onto the ground beyond the blankets as you sweep your legs up the wall. Settle your back onto the floor, arranging your torso so that a line drawn from your nose to your navel would be perpendicular to the baseboard.

If all this feels like too much, forget about the blankets entirely, and let the whole back rest on the floor with the hips as far away from the wall as you need to let the the heels rest comfortably against the wall. (I sometimes even choose a gentler approach: bending the legs and resting the calves atop a low bed or couch instead of a wall.) And if you suffer from conditions that caution against adding extra pressure in the head (like glaucoma or untreated hypertension), then opt for a flat-on-the-ground savasana instead of viparita karani.

As always in yoga, preparation counts. So spend a few moments attending to the details of the pose before diving into its depths. You’ll be rewarded for your care and precision with a deeper and more restful state of ease once you've settled in.

REFINING THE POSE
Let’s start with the legs. Ideally in viparita karani, the legs should be straight and the backs of the thighs should rest against the wall, offering a gentle support that deepens the restorative benefits of the pose. If your back thighs aren’t touching the wall and you feel like they could without strain, then bend your legs and shimmy your hips a few inches closer to the wall, settling more of your lower back onto the bolster.

If moving close to the wall causes your hamstrings to protest, however, then emerge from the pose, slide the blankets a few inches farther away from the baseboard, and try again. Experiment with the distance between the blanket and the wall until you find a position that offers a gentle stretch in the backs of your legs but doesn’t overwhelm you. It’s going to be difficult to find inner peace, after all, if your thighs are shrieking at you in protest.

Consider your hips next. Your pelvis should comfortably rest on the bolster, with its two sides equidistant from the wall. The blankets should support you from the tailbone all the way to the kidneys at the mid-back, allowing the belly to feel evenly supported. To assure ample space in your midsection, release the base of the tailbone gently downward toward the little gully between the blanket and the wall. At the same time, extend the sitting bones away from the belly, as if they were being magnetically drawn toward the wall beyond you.

BALANCED AND UNWRINKLED
Here’s a good test of whether you’ve found this evenness in your midsection: Place your fingers on your bony hip points at the top of either side of the pelvis, and the thumbs on either side of the base of the front floating ribs. All four points should be the same height off the floor, allowing the contents of the belly settle deeply into the cradle of the back pelvis instead of tipping in one direction or another.

Now let’s make sure the upper body is balanced and unwrinkled, too. Pick up your left shoulder, slip the shoulder blade down toward the waist, and then release the shoulder back onto the ground. Notice how much space you’ve created between the shoulder and the ear. Repeat this action on the second side. Rest your hands in a comfortable position, either out to the sides, on top of the floating ribs, or on the floor beyond your head. Enjoy this opportunity to let the shoulders root firmly into the ground, with the arms soft and the hands unclenched.

Once you’ve nestled comfortably into viparita karani, your only remaining task is to close your eyes, exhale completely and surrender to the softness of the pose. Scan your body limb by limb, inviting any residual knots of tension to dissolve away completely. Let your brain grow easy and tranquil, relinquishing its grip on obsessive worries or fears that may still linger within. Enjoy the opportunity to grasp after absolutely nothing, at least for a few sweet moments.

Let's drop inward layer by layer to observe the subtle sensations within. First shift your focus to the breath and observe how much freedom viparita karani offers the diaphragm at the base of the lungs, inviting the mid-body to participate whole-heartedly in your inhalations and exhalations. Take advantage of this opportunity, letting the belly peacefully and generously ride the waves of the breath.

Invite the breath to deepen, and let every exhalation feel soul satisfying and complete. As your body softens, you may even discover a delightful pause developing at the very end of each exhalation - a moment or two of total stillness and spaciousness. Enjoy the tranquility and deep rest this settled silence offers.

GROTTO OF THE HEART
Now draw your awareness even beneath the breath, toward the shifting sensations of life pulsing through you. Trace the flow of energy that runs from your heels through the waterfall of your legs, into the warm lake of the belly, over the gentle waves of the ribcage, through the grotto of the heart, and all the way out through the channels of the neck and head, before melding back into the ocean of life beyond you. Enjoy the opportunity to be drained and emptied, and notice how calming this gentle inversion can be for both the heart and the head.

Pause, breathe, and when you’re ready, drop inward again. Notice how beneath the body’s surface, beneath the rise and fall of the breath, even beneath the flow of inner energy, lies a tranquil refuge of quiet and ease. Observe how this stillness supports you, how even when you let everything you know about yourself dissolve, you are still held by the world. With each quiet exhalation, and with every ounce of letting go, you drop closer to the stillness that lies at the very heart of the universe.

Linger in this soothing silence for as long as you like. When your body signals that it is ready again to move back into the world of action, slowly slide your legs down the wall, bending your knees close to your chest. Rest here for a few moments before pressing your feet into the wall and sliding your hips onto the floor. Don’t hurry - you’ve just emerged from the depths of life, after all, and may need a few moments to re-acclimate to the world around you.

When you do sit up, observe how you feel in your body, breath, mind and heart. Ask yourself whether you feel a little softer and more centered than a few moments ago. Perhaps you also feel smoother, quieter and more at ease. Your journey through viparita karani may have even left you feeling a bit more like the calm, balanced, and tenderhearted creature you were always meant to be.

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This article was originally published in Yoga Journal (December 2003)

Bhramari Breath: The Hum of Happiness

My favorite sound in the world may just be the quiet hum of my children. When I stumble upon one of them sprawled out on the floor, drawing or cutting or building while also quietly humming a tune, I know that all is well in the world. I know my child is happily engaged, with his mind absorbed completely in the task at hand. I sense a deep ease and contentment. In my mind's eye I see my child happily afloat on the gentle streams of life, completely unconflicted in the moment and utterly at home in the world.

Inevitably, I sigh in deep relief and peace.

Humming and happiness are good friends, it seems. And if happiness leads to a contented hum, is it possible that the relationship works both ways, making it possible for us to hum our way into a happier state?

Yoga masters answer this question with an unequivocal yes. And they offer up one of my favorite breathing practices as proof.

BREATHING INTO BLISS
Bhramari breath is a simple yogic breathing technique that nurtures feelings of calm, ease and gentle delight. The practice, named after the sound of a buzzing bee, was offered up five centuries ago in the classic yoga manual Hatha Yoga Pradipika. The book offers the delightful proposition that regular practice of the buzzing-bee breath can lead us to a state of being where "bliss arises in the heart." That sounds like sweet medicine to me!

Practicing bhramari breath is simple: Sit upright in a comfortable and relaxed manner. Close your lips gently, relax the jaw, and rest the tongue softly on the roof of your mouth. Inhale normally through the nose, and then exhale through the nose while making a gentle humming sound.

That's it. If you've ever hummed, then you already know how to buzz like a yogic bee!

In the beginning, you may like to take a few easy breaths between each humming exhalation. Once you feel comfortable, you can hum all the way through each exhalation for several rounds of breath, up to five minutes or so. If you're like me, a few rounds of bhramari breath will soothe and settle the mind while offering a gentle buzz of uplift and delight.

SOOTHING THE NERVOUS SYSTEM
How does bhramari breath work? When we hum, we typically lengthen our exhalations without even trying. Long and slow exhalations calm the nervous system and tone the vagus nerve, helping us switch from fight-or-flight mode toward rest-and-digest mode. Long exhale after long exhale, we gently ramp down our overexcited nervous systems.

In addition, focusing awareness on the sound of the humming breath can help clear and steady the mind, diverting attention from the endless parade of restless thoughts cycling through our  heads. In this way, practicing bhramari breath becomes a form of meditation, offering the mind a safe and lovely place to anchor itself, allowing us to grow calmer and steadier all the while.

And finally, the vibrations created by the humming sounds work their way deep into the body. Some say these subtle vibrations have the power to cleanse and balance the body's inner energetic flows, leaving us feeling rinsed clean from inside out. I like to imagine the sound waves working their way into my bones, joints, organs and fluids, shaking loose anything stuck or unnecessary within.

Studies have shown that even short bouts of bhramari breath can slow the heartbeat and lower blood pressure. One study even found that the practice shifts the electrical activity of the brain toward a state where high-frequency gamma waves are produced. These waves are sometimes associated with states of lovingkindness and bliss. Perhaps this is why the ancient yoga masters offered bhramari breath as a means of cultivating a happy heart.

DEEPENING THE EXPLORATION
Once you've mastered the basics of bhramari breath, you can play around with a few variations of the practice. Try plugging your ears as you hum, and notice how this increases the resonance within. Try readjusting your head and tongue in ways that draw the vibrations farther back in the mouth and down the throat. Or play around with the pitch and volume of the sounds you make, noticing where you feel the vibrations most clearly within. I find that higher pitched sounds feel like they move up into my brain, while lower pitched noises can work their way all the way down my spine into the belly.

You might even take this exploration beyond the bounds of traditional closed-mouth bhramari breath, by opening the mouth and vocalizing various sounds. Feel free to turn your buzzing bee into a chant or poem or song that you love. Make a joyful noise!

And if all of this sounds like gobbledygook, just hum a happy tune as you go about your day. The practice may not be written up quite like this in the classic yoga texts, but I bet you'll still find bliss arising in your heart.

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Stress Management Strategies

Wise teachers from many spiritual traditions tell us that while we don't always have control over how life unfolds, we do have control over how we manage it. We are in charge of the spirit with which we face our life and the attitude with which we live it.

In other words, we don't always have a choice about the cards we are dealt in this life, but we do have a choice about how we play them.

Remembering this isn't always easy, especially when we are facing difficulty and feeling stressed. Fortunately, wise teachers from many different traditions have cultivated a range of practices and strategies that can help us manage our lives as gracefully and as happily as possible.

Some of these practices are simple and can be done any time and any place. My favorite on-the-spot and in-the-moment stress management strategies - ones that can be practiced in an office, in a car, at the doctor's office, or even walking down the street - follow.

1. Exhale. When we are stressed, we tend to hold the breath or half-breathe, panting like a dog in a fast and shallow manner. My first survival strategy when I'm facing stress is to exhale. Not only does this help relax the body, but it invites the nervous system to settle into a more restful state.

It's simple. Follow the breath for a few rounds. When you're ready, simply lengthen an exhalation a little more than usual. When you think you've reached the end of your out-breath, exhale just a little bit more. Imagine that you have just one last candle on your birthday cake that you're trying to extinguish. At the end of this one out-breath, let go of all control over the breath, inhaling and exhaling freely and naturally for three or four easy breaths.

After a few moments, again consciously lengthen a single exhalation. Sometimes it helps to purse the lips as you exhale fully, as if you were breathing out through a straw. Sometimes it even helps to accompany the out-breath with a long sigh.

Repeat this pattern - breathing naturally and freely for several breaths, and then consciously lengthening a single exhalation - for as long as you like. If it helps, keep doing it. When in doubt, breathe out!

2. Practice Mindfulness. Much of the anxiety we create in our lives is generated by thoughts about the past or future. Even as our minds are spinning out in fear and stress, the very moment before us is usually manageable, and is often even beautiful. Future-thinking and past-spinning deny us the opportunity to experience the life and love right before our very eyes.

Life is lived in moments. And at the very least, each present moment often offers the opportunity to live fully and to express our love. The trick is to keep the mind in the present moment - the only place life can be truly lived. This is what mindfulness is all about.

When you feel your mind spinning out of control, spend a few moments focusing completely on the experience of the present. Notice the sounds around you, the colors you see, the quality of the breath, the feelings in your body. Be with the moment, with as much openness and ease as possible.

When you catch your mind spinning into the future or reeling into the past, gently lure it back to raw ingredients of the present. If you need help getting started with mindfulness, finish this sentence: "Right now, in the here-and-now, I am aware of..."

The more you can embrace each passing moment with tenderness and openness - even if you don't particularly like the moment - the less stress your body will carry. And quite possibly, your calm and abiding mindfulness will help calm and center those around you, too.

3. Move Gently. As a longtime student and teacher of yoga, I am keenly aware of how deeply we hold our emotions in our bodies. I am also convinced that by consciously relaxing and mindfully moving the body, we can discharge much of the stress we carry, so we are better able to move and breathe in more supportive and tender ways.

There are lots of ways to consciously move the body that release bound-up energy and keep the body strong. Try yoga, running, swimming, tai chi, qigong, or even walking down the road and back.

These aren't exactly do-anywhere, on-the-spot practices, though. Fortunately, it is still possible to relax through movement when you're sitting at a computer, waiting at the doctor's office, standing in line at the grocery or even lying in bed. It is possible in just about any situation to quietly do a gentle twist, or to arch and round the back, to nestle the chin toward the chest, or to roll the shoulders forward, up, back and down. These gentle moments can help relax the body, free the breath and settle you into the moment.

You can even move "secretly" by practicing progressive relaxation. Draw your attention to a specific part of the body, tense the muscles in that area for a few seconds, and then release as much as you possibly can. Repeat this a few times and then move on to another part of the body.

You might move to the places in the body where you feel the most tension. Or you could start at the bottom of the body and work your way to the top. You could draw your attention to the feet, scrunching up the toes and flexing the ankles for a breath or two, and then softening them completely. And then tense and relax the lower legs, the upper legs, the hips, the belly, the shoulders, the hands, the arms, the neck, the jaw and the face.

4. Practice Love. Each moment, no matter how anxious, offers us the opportunity to practice love. We can do this in obvious ways, like telling people how much we care for them, for example, or helping them in some tangible way.

We can also do this quietly, secretly, through loving-kindness practice. All it requires is that we silently offer wishes of goodwill and happiness to those around us. Sometimes we offer this unconditional friendliness toward one specific loved one. Sometimes we offer this tenderness toward ourselves. Sometimes we send out wishes for love and peace to everyone, everywhere.

Some spiritual traditions offer specific words or phrases that can help this. Buddhist meditators, for example, sometimes use some variation of the following words: "May we be filled with loving-kindness. May we be well. May we be peaceful and at ease. May we be happy."

When my mind is on the verge of meltdown - and when all of the strategies I've already offered here fail me - I remember to "rest the fearful mind in the cradle of loving-kindness," as meditation teachers sometimes suggest. I send wishes of love and tenderness to myself, a creature doing her best to live and love in happiness and light. This never fails to soften me.

From there, I often offer silent wishes for love and kindness toward someone in my life who may be suffering. Usually I begin with the traditional loving-kindness phrases, but then often I add my own, tailoring my words to the person I am holding in my heart. "May you be safe. May you be strong. May you know how deeply you are loved. May you be happy. May you know peace. May you shine."

Depending on the moment, I may offer up my well-wishing to people around me - family members, friends, even strangers near and far. And then, I cut right to the chase, offering my sincere wishes for happiness and peace to everyone, everywhere.

I like this practice of silently spreading kindness, because it gives me something positive and helpful to do, especially when the moment feels helpless. I like it because it doesn't offer false promises or pretend that things are different from the way they are, but still it allows us express our heartfelt kindness and care. And most of all, it reminds us that even when all else fails, even when we are stressed, there is always love.

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