When Yoga chose me.

It‘s almost 4am as I write this. I have been awake for a few hours and it‘s taken me a while to settle. This is why I’m here now.

I have been reflecting hard on my existence in the world as a white yoga teacher. What role am I playing? How can I be braver, do better, support and amplify my non-white fellow yoga teachers?

A question on the social media feed of a Desi anti-racist educator kept me thinking about this all week. And these thoughts led me to write.

Why am I a yoga teacher?

Well yoga found me in my late 30s. And after about a year of doing a physical practice I decided to train to become a teacher. I had been sacked from my job in recruitment in the time of the banks crashing in the U.K. and I took 6 months to figure out what to do next. I spent my whole pay check on what was the biggest change of my life.

I decided to train in India. And I can honestly say it was because I knew it would reconnect me to God. I didn’t know this at the time, but that’s why I went and I will be forever grateful that I did.

Whilst on my training course, I lived in an ashram with 71 other students and about 30 staff. We were from all over the world. A beautiful mix of races, religions, beliefs and opinions. And what I remember most about that time was friendship, prayer, selfless service, humility, curiosity and an intense conversation with God.

I now know that my ancestry isn’t somewhere I can easily look to in order to find meaning, ritual, fairness and a deep love of the human and more than human world. My ancestors were violent oppressors, bigots and the creators of this brutal over-culture that we now find ourselves in. But my ancestors were also witches, healers, midwives, farmers, weavers, artists and singers. I am in search of the goodness of the country that I now live on and the medicine of the land. My upbringing was a Christian one and although I have a real love of Jesus and appreciate the amazing work the Church can do, Christianity doesn’t sit well with me. Infact that is putting it very mildly. So I find myself with an oppressive heritage, in a land that has had its people raped, pillaged, burned to death by Romans, Saxons, French and Viking oppressors. I find myself seeking to repair wrongdoing to my non-white kinfolk and praying for my 6 million ancestral sisters who were burnt at the stake. And don’t even get me started on the desecration of our planet’s ecosystems. What I’m left with is that I need to continue to be brave, resilient but also go gently with myself. I can be pretty intense to have a drink with you know?

Living a life in alignment with yogic and ayurvedic practices has given me the tools to help me find a balanced way. I have found the courage to do better and be better everyday. I stumble and fall very, very often. But I have to keep giving a shit about my impact on the world in every waking moment. Otherwise what’s the point, right?

And now I will try and get back to sleep. There’s so much more to say but enough for now. Go gently my loves.

I really hope I can sleep. Pray for me.

My wee boy’s hands

These Autumn days of 2020 have been weird in the UK as I’m sure they have worldwide.

We are all back to work in the main unless you work in music, theatre and the like. A god bless you if you are in that boat.

And for some reason, even after all we’ve been through this year, there doesn’t seem to be much softness around. And blimey do we need the softness.

What prompted me to write this post was a moment that made me stop and notice this evening. I was standing by my wee boy‘s bed and rubbing cream into his hands. They’re so dry from all the hand washing at school. Sigh. His gorgeous

knuckles are raw and painful.

I was suddenly taken back to when he was born. My gorgeous wee bundle of a boy. Who came into the world one minute after his brother. I massaged his hand and he giggled. I was kept in that moment and all the trials and tribulations of the day left me. I kissed his face as he started to fall asleep. It was a lovely moment and what a blessing that I was gifted this moment by my wee man.

Living a happy balanced life can mean many things. I’m super grateful that this moment didn’t pass me by.

sending you some softness in these weird times xx

Ummmmmm what to say?

Here we are. May 2020. Weird old pandemic styled times.

It‘s colder today in the Uk. I’m at home with twin boys (8) and my husband (54).

I slept in my mini yoga studio last night with the kids. Might as well use it!

So I jumped on here to talk about my practice right now. It’s weird for sure. I am doing very little physical yoga but I am running every day. I meditate 4 times a week and do a daily yoga Nidra. I now have an altar in my garden. That’s new.

I am struggling to read or listen to audiobooks. Weird. I am not teaching on Zoom yet. Infact I am hugely resistant. I am not eligible for government support it seems but I do have a home and bread on the table.

I am learning to grow vegetables.

I have plunged deeper into my menopause and am starting to be more in sync with the moon.

I am taking photos everyday in nature. I have never done this before.

I am pretty bad at home schooling. I miss my female friends so badly. I want to laugh and hug them over coffee.

I love our binmen and binwomen.

So all these reflections lead to a realisation, for me at certainly, that practice can be anything that enhances your connection with nature, your body, your community and all that is sacred.

So celebrate all that is still with you. Even the beer drinking. Beer is plant based too. It’s all good.

So much love to you all. Xx