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Leave your politics out of YOGA!

Woke up to this Trump voter screaming at me over the interwebs the other day. 🤦‍♀️ Sorry, Karen. I will not.

First of all: Yoga IS political.

Any teacher who tells you otherwise doesn’t know what they’re doing.

Waaaay beyond a workout, yoga is an ethical system, a spiritual discipline, a way of being in the world grounded in compassion and non-violence and the reality of interdependence.

When you really practice this sh*t, when you realize it’s so much more than just stretching, when you let these radically-loving yogic ethics pervade your every breath, then of *course* it’s political.

And, honestly, that’s why there are so few yoga teachers who’d really vote for Donald Trump or support imperialist war or condone the recent violence against trans kids in Texas and gay folks in Florida.

Many (most?) of us vote blue. 🗳 Because those very ethics of compassion and non-violence and interdependence make it clear the Christofascist lens of the modern-day GOP is completely incompatible with a yogic way of being.

Second: girl, it’s a free yoga class. On YouTube. Where there are six million other free classes you could take instead.

So if my politics turn you off, close the window. Click away. 🤷‍♀️

Or even better, stay awhile, and see if you can learn a thing or two about the meaningful, life-changing Eastern philosophy that’s behind all this bendy stuff to begin with. ✌🏼

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Gentle

And I don’t mean gentle yoga. (Love me an athletic, ass-kicking vinyasa class.) Gentle with your body. Gentle with your heart. Gentle every time you blow it or run into that meeting sweaty and late or fall out of the pose or say that super awkward thing that makes you cringe every time you think of it for the next ten years.

Gentle with your whole self. Gentle with the world around you. Gentle with not knowing what comes next.

Buddhism gave me this word. As an early twentysomething, I was very good at being hard on myself; most of us are. Especially when you grow up in a religion that proclaims you destined to fall short of the glory of God, sinful and unworthy, broken, “a wretch like me” (thanks, Amazing Grace. You kinda suck.)

In such stark contrast — compassion lies at the heart of meditation and yoga practices. Compassion for self; compassion for your suffering, very human body; compassion for all beings; compassion for the world.

And when your heart begins to spin on the axis of compassion instead of confession, gentleness instead of guilt, everything softens; everything opens.

Try it. Just try being gentle with yourself. Nobody ever got where they wanted to by beating themself up. I promise.

Maybe, just maybe, compassion will get you there instead. 

(PS — if you want to dive further into this, check out the wonderful work on self-compassion being done by Kristin Neff. She’s setting the standard in so many graceful, life-giving ways.)

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There’s a better way

As an American living abroad, I am rarely patriotic — more often ashamed — and GUNS are one of the main reasons why. 😔

They’re also why we were so eager to leave.

Back in 2018, with my son approaching kindergarten age, the local Massachusetts school district he was due to attend went viral for teaching their kindergarteners to hide from active shooters to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

WTF. 🤬😤 (She says in the most yogic of righteously-angry ways.)

I don’t know what it will take to get the GOP out of the NRA’s pocket. I don’t understand how politicians can just turn away from children being slaughtered in schools.

I do know there’s a better way — a life without the fear of gun violence. We’re living it here. And while there are plenty of things about Switzerland, and Europe, that are far from perfect, I’ll take it if it means we don’t have to worry that our beloved babe will be shot in school.

Bless every soul lost to American gun violence. May they be free from suffering. May they know peace. 💔

Artist: @nikkolas_smith

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Spare

I just finished reading Prince Harry’s autobiography.  (This is the German version in a bookstore downtown — note the Deutsch name.)

It was fascinating, and heartbreaking, and overwhelmingly human, and full of death. In spite of all the very-real spoils of wealth and empire and colonialism and blue-blood privilege, the guy has suffered massively.

Reading his story reminded me of the Buddhist teaching of the First Noble Truth, that quiet, frank reality that life is full of suffering, and our response to that pervasive suffering (or our resistance to it) is what determines the quality of our days.

I remember playing with Princess Di Barbie dolls as a little girl, and watching the news of her tragic death on TV in late August 1997, as I moved into my first college dorm. I remember reading People Magazine stories as a teen, gossipy profiles characterizing Harry as the wild one, the naughty one, the one who couldn’t seem to get his shit together. So it was fascinating to see him debunk so many of the supposed truths of his childhood — “truths” that the media had literally created out of thin air. The poor guy has been chased his whole life; treated like an animal in the zoo, a cash cow for paparazzi and shady journalists alike. 

These days, our house is blessedly-free of princess culture; I’m grateful to have a son who doesn’t give a shit about royalty or princess stories or any of that fairy tale hoo-ha. The way American culture saturates children (girls, in particular) with cringeworthy princess mythology makes me nauseous. It’s no wonder everyone assumes “royalty” live a perfect, pain-free existence. It’s aspirational bullshit. This guy certainly hasn’t.

Since Harry’s book release, I’ve so enjoyed seeing this embodied, grounded, warm adult version of himself moving through the world. His The Late Show with Stephen Colbert interview was especially poignant; knowing that Colbert also lost a parent young in a tragic plane crash gave their easy conversation a bittersweet undertone.

Cheers to this dude.  It hasn’t been all roses — but he seems to have really done the work. I hope he and his little family find room to breathe in the years to come.

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What if there’s actually nothing wrong with you?

Since it’s a Sunday morning, and many of us who grew up Christian spent countless Sunday mornings confessing our sin, brokenness, and inadequacy — over and over, week after week…

How do you think repeating creeds and prayers about your inherent sinfulness affected your sense of self as a tiny, growing human?

Whose power did it preserve for you to grow up convinced that you were broken, fundamentally sinful, and inadequate without a “Savior”?

And whom might it benefit for you to grovel about your worthlessness and powerlessness from the pews every week?

Time to rewrite the story, in our bones.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s actually nothing deeply wrong with you.

What if you were whole, and wise, and powerful to begin with?

Let’s recite a new creed, and weave it into our bodies, with every awakened breath.

You are good.

You are wise.

You are whole.

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Know your gifts, and how to give them in the world

Nice to see all your #internationalwomensday posts yesterday, and also frustrating, because: really?? One day?! 🤷‍♀️

One woman who’s been inspiring me lately is Potawatomi scientist, professor, and author Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer. I spent the depths of bitterly cold January listening to countless interviews with her sharing wisdom on botany, spirituality, ecology, and how her Native heritage weaves throughout her work. (Do read her popular book Braiding Sweetgrass if you haven’t already.)

She spoke these words in one interview and they struck me. I don’t know about you, but the very strong messages I received as a good little overachieving Christian girl were that I should be above all nice, positive, smiling, self-effacing, and SMALL. Definitely never daring to take up space with my body, my opinions, or my work.

Two degrees in feminist theory and 40 years later, I still have to consciously unlearn those early messages when I’m sharing my work. It still makes my heart race to publish something that I know will set someone off. And this, even after decades of unlearning that “good little Christian girl” mentality.

So know your gifts. Really f’ing KNOW them. Own them. Speak them. Share them. Don’t stay quiet and keep them hidden just to please other people, or to avoid being too much.

BE EFFEN TOO MUCH. 💥

The people who can handle it will stick around, and join in cheering you on.

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A slushy New Year to you

Back home in Basel after a week in the Alps. 

See those drab brown slopes behind me? Friends: climate change is REAL. 😔 

Europe’s been experiencing a massive January heatwave and the mountains are scarily brown, green, and bleak — no snow to be found in so many Alpine villages throughout France, Switzerland, and Italy.

Ski slopes are closed, gondolas shut down, and wildlife that doesn’t usually turn up until March is already wandering around. Hotels are renting out mountain bikes instead of skis. Unless you’re at super high altitude, it’s all just mud, slush, and melting ice.

But it’s not just the lack of snow. I wonder how these tiny family-run ski hotels and restaurants will survive in the years to come. Will a warming climate push them out? There’s a whole Alpine economy here that could just, welp, disappear. 🥺

On a lighter note: Happy New Year. I know we’re seven days in and you may have already chucked your resolutions. That’s ok.

It doesn’t really matter. You can always begin again.

Atha yoga anusasanam. The first Sutra. Sanskrit for “Now is the time for the yoga to begin.”

So yes, for sure, I’ll encourage you to unroll your mat and move your body a little more this week, this month, this year. Every bit helps. 🧘🏽‍♀️🤸🏿‍♂️

But also: floss your teeth. It’s a game changer. 🦷

And try oil pulling. Another regular Ayurvedic practice that works wonders. I’ve doubled down on it in this tough season of “let’s pretend the pandemic is over” mixed with schools full of flu and RSV and strep throat and anything else you can throw at kids.

Phew, 2023. Here we are. Somehow.

Take good care of yourselves. Go walk around a melting lake and feel the sun on your face and the wind in your hair.

It’s all connected. 🌲🦌

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Walk. Just walk.

There are a million fitness bros on the internet trying to sell you on bone broth and intermittent fasting and the evils of seed oils. F*&k that. 🙄

Just take a walk. Every day.

Start there. 🚶🏽‍♀️🌳🚶🏿

I’ve got a thing lately for urban design — in particular, the power of walkable communities. Living in Europe has stoked this fire. 🔥

One of the fascinating tidbits I’ve learned is that Americans often

1) Romanticize their college life — because it was the one time they lived in an actual walkable community with everything they needed and their best friends within a few minutes’ stroll, and

2) Yearn for the magic and charm of the vacations they experienced in walkable European cities like Paris or Barcelona or Prague or even, gulp, Disney World. Do you know what made them feel so magical? The mixed-use zoning that allows for cafes, apartments, and businesses to occupy the same block.

Did you feel it trick-or-treating last night? 🎃👻🍬 How great it felt to walk around your neighborhood and see people out and about and breathe the crisp autumn air and crunch leaves on the sidewalk alongside your littles and be in your body instead of strapped into an isolated metal bubble on wheels?

There’s wonder and wellness and connectivity in walking. Not to mention the power to save the planet. 🌎

It’s simple and accessible and you can do it with people you love. Or listen to a podcast and feed your brain and your spirit while you’re at it.

Our bodies are designed for this. Trust them.

You don’t have to pay for some expensive gym.

Being well — being every day embodied, out in the world, sharing space and breath and nature — doesn’t have to cost a dime.

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Your body is the site of liberation

Everywhere you look right now you can find @thenapministry and her new book, “Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto” — and I f**king LOVE it. ✨⚡️💫

Atlanta’s self-proclaimed “Nap Bishop” Tricia Hersey is splashed all over the pages of the NYT (and is now a bestseller!) and you’ll find her making the podcast rounds, too.

I couldn’t love her message more. Hersey weaves together

✨ Black liberation theology
✨ Womanist theory and praxis
✨ A critique of capitalism
✨ White supremacy
✨ The legacy of slavery
✨ Grind culture
✨ Commodification
✨ Our bodies as a site of resistance and liberation
✨ The notion of enoughness
✨ Why urgency’s a myth
✨ Imagination
✨ Creativity
✨ Silence
✨ The history of labor
✨ Community care vs self care
✨ The inherent divinity and goodness of every body (yours too)

And so much more. 🔥 Check out her recent interview with Glennon Doyle for a great introduction.

Love the ways in which Hersey has combined her theological training as an M.Div with performance art and community care. It’s just *chef’s kiss*. Inspired interdisciplinary work that the world needs so much. 💫⚡️✨

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Chilly cobblestone moments

This morning my little family rolled out of bed and pulled on clothes we’d actually ironed and I applied once-a-year makeup and wore a real bra and not leggings (!!) to meet up with the always-wonderful Suzy Lou Photography for our annual family photos. 

(This is a quick behind-the-scenes shot from last year’s in the Alt Stadt.)

We met Suzy the first fall we’d moved here, back in 2018, when we’d only lived in Basel a few months and we weren’t sure how long we’d actually get to stay. The cityscape along the Rhine was the main character that year, and ever since, we’ve discovered different urban corners to create a visual history as our little guy grows (and as my husband and I both go grey).

It’s a pain in the ass to actually get properly dressed and put on lipstick and we’re often swearing at each other under our breath between snaps, but I’m so, so glad we’ve done this all these years. 

Expat life offers no illusion of permanence; everything about our Swiss reality could change in a heartbeat, depending on the job that allows us to stay. The rug can be pulled out from underneath it all at any moment. 

So I’m ever grateful to have taken the time for these chilly cobblestone shots over the years.

Thanks to Suzy for bringing Basel to life.