Naked Yoga

I’ve been doing something a bit unconventional and I’m very smitten: naked yoga. Though I’ve practiced for almost 15 years, it’s never been like this before.

Yoga classes in L.A. can be less about the asanas and more about checking out who looks the youngest, the most anorexic and who has the latest $120 stretchy pants. It’s distracting, annoying and costs $22 a class to boot. Of course not all classes are like this, but still…

I started to get curious about exploring – on my own – the point of why I do yoga in the first place: to actually be Union with my body and experience the miracle of this ‘container’ that holds my soul and allows me to travel the beauty of this earth.

I leave my mat out the night before so that it’s ready for me when I roll out of bed. I leave the curtains closed so that it feels private, while still allowing lots of natural light to flood the high ceilings of my bedroom. The birds are chirping at 6:30am and I feel safe and warm.

I’m not doing any particular sequence of poses or holding them for any particular length of time. Of course I have my favorites: down dog, warrior two (and three), triangle, crow, pigeon. I’m not looking at the clock, I’m just moving as it feels natural. Two minutes, ten minutes, a half hour; the amount of time isn’t the point.

As I’m doing all of this – alone in my birthday suit – something amazing has happened that is quite the opposite of what I expected: I seriously am in LOVE with my body. Not because I’m judging it from the outside, but because in this quiet, private, raw moment, I’m completely amazed at the perfection of this ‘vessel.’ Not airbrushed magazine, 17-year-old model perfection: God’s perfection. Or evolution. Or whatever your beliefs are about how we got here.

The fact that (for most of us) we wake up and have this soft, strong, warm, healthy body that is completely functioning and operating on its own is a small miracle. The heart beats without us asking. Our legs take us wherever we ask them to go. Our eyes work to see the beauty of the world. Our nose works to smell the roses. Our ears work to hear the birds chirping in the early morning.

All of this ‘work’ happens without us even asking – we are so lucky! And yet most of the time, as women, we ‘hate’ our bodies and obsess over all of their imperfections. It’s tragic, really.

And from a more superficial, aesthetic perspective, doing naked yoga has actually made me love my body even more. This really surprised me. Rather then getting neurotic over a fold here or a stretch mark there, in that quiet, safe place, I can just be with my body Exactly As It Is. There is no judgment here, only full acceptance. Acceptance of things I ‘like’ and think look ‘good’ and acceptance of things I might ‘change.’

But then I stopped myself and asked the question: do I really even need to change this perceived imperfection? Why?

No, my body doesn’t look like an airbrushed, spray tanned teenage model in a magazine, but I’m not her, I’m ME. A 37-year-old mom who has a body that has given life, fed my son, helped others, planted gardens, written poems and felt immense pleasure. Why on earth would I ever want to change that!

I’m stepping into my Full Power, and it feels amazing. Redefining what it means to be a True Woman and enjoying the miracle of this body that was given to me the day my mom conceived me inside of hers. One day I’ll have to give it back to the Great Mother, but until then, I’m going to enjoy it and give it respect, each and every moment, whether it’s naked on my yoga mat or fully clothed out in the world.

painting by Antoine Calbet

Field Report

Yes, it’s mid-January, and well into winter and actually quite cold for southern California, but the schoolyard garden is booming.

Broccoli, Borage, Artichokes, Parsley, Red Chard, Curly Kale, Chives, Oregano, Lemon Verbena, Radishes, Carrots, Snap Peas, Spinach and a few confused Strawberries.

Even gardeners like to gloat…just a little bit.

‘Officially’ I run the afterschool Garden Club Friday afternoons, but we’ve been having so much fun that I pretty much open the gate every day of the week.

If you open it, they will come!

The kids arrive in droves and I must say, I melt a little each time they squeal: “Miss Jill, being in the garden is my favorite part of coming to school!” The truth is, I love doing it. It’s not work for me. It’s a true pleasure to be a part of that school garden every day: weeding, planting, handing out shovels, yelling at kids to stop throwing dirt at each other faces, sitting on a bench watching them take turns watering and harvesting peas pulled right off the vine. The best is when they ask to take ‘one extra’ for their mom or brother. I love that.

Though I’m writing about the experience on ‘my’ blog, I really don’t take much credit for this. The reason I’m sharing, I suppose is to say that something which may seem inconsequential to us adults has a HUGE impact on the kids. I’ve been gardening my whole life. Honestly, it’s no big deal for me. I love it, and I’ll find a way to do it one way or another.

But I can’t tell you how many parents, teachers and school administrators have gone out of their way to pull me aside and tell me that what I’m doing has a big impact. Why am I sharing this? Again, not so much to take credit, but perhaps to inspire anyone reading this to say that I think we underestimate ourselves and our impact. We think we don’t matter. We tone ourselves down. We diminish our own importance.

Don’t underestimate yourself.

I personally see the impact of small acts of kindness and tiny seeds planted day after day in the garden, both in the kids’ faces and in the happy plants smiling back at me.

Fun & Free

A dear friend of mine has a wonderful philosophy that most things in life really worth doing, pursuing or participating in are Fun & Free.

I couldn’t agree more.

This morning that meant a gorgeous hike (with her!) in the Santa Monica mountains. This evening it meant preparing and savoring the most delicious homemade organic soup from vegetables I earned in ‘trade’ from working at an urban farm here in Los Angeles.

Fun & Free is beautiful, fulfilling, adventurous, spontaneous, unpredictable, wild, sweet and delicious!

May your holidays be BRIGHT with the things that really matter.

clandestine lovers

Last night in L.A., rather than keeping me huddled inside, the wild weather itself drew me out. AIR, the most elusive of elements, seems to speak through the wind. Like a visit from a lover who has gone missing for a while, it comes at you with a vengeance: biting your neck, singing in your ear, pulling your hair…overpowering your entire being…

I can work with that.

Amidst a year of more transformations than I care to tally, simply being out with the elements is a welcome reprieve, and source of renewal. I snuck out last night under a smiling crescent moon for a visit with Mr. Wind. He did not disappoint.

Howling, enticing, shaking the proverbial bed posts through the frenetic vibration of all the trees, he caused me to look up…and then I saw my old friend…the Flowering Pear Tree.

Each year, come November, I start looking for her. Waiting for her leaves to drop so that her tender white petals can emerge right around the turn of the year – a sign of all the beauty that’s to come.

But, in this Official Year of Shit Storms, ahem, ‘growth,’ I’d forgotten all about Ms. Pear altogether. This year, it turns out, she was waiting for me.

She stood tall in all her glory, tiny white blossoms lit up by the moon, which was extra bright because nary a cloud graced the black sky. Her silken blossoms danced with the wind against an ebony backdrop and I stood there, like a giddy teenager who happened upon something naughty: in this case, the wind making love to the tree.

It was a gorgeous sight, and they seemed to be having a really good time of it. I stood there for a moment, admiring their force and grace – a beautiful pairing indeed.

Alas, it was time to move on and leave them to their privacy. More adventures, I’m quite sure, on the horizon….

Clovers & Canyons

When there are times like this where the entire country is in mourning and certain things simply are incomprehensible and people turn their astonishment into anger, and then into antagonism, all I can really do is get back into nature. This morning it was a gorgeous canyon hike with my son.

It didn’t plan it that way. Up at 6am I had no idea how the day would unfold, but a few hours later, we found ourselves high above the sea in one of the mountains on the Malibu/Ventura border. The drive out was indescribable. One I’ve done hundreds of times, but today in particular was stunning. Even more than usual.

The ocean looked almost iridescent purple, the pale clouds swirled themselves into the powder sky and the Channel Islands were in such clear view it looked like you could reach out and touch them.

Just yesterday I was thinking that I was ready to start making love rattles again, but had no more pieces of found wood for the handles. I wasn’t thinking about this today – just focusing on the beauty – when we turned a corner to find the mother ship of sticks and branches – enough wood for more rattles than someone should ever be allowed to make in one lifetime.

Perfect.

We spent quite a bit of time selecting our specimens and my son was impressed at how I broke the wood with my bare hands. He’s still easy to impress and still totally innocent. He doesn’t really understand what guns are and certainly not murder or tragedy. He’s been deliberately shielded, having never watched violent movies or the news. And today up in that canyon, I held that moment with him for as long as possible. Insanely grateful to just be with him, heartbroken for what’s happened in Connecticut and selfishly happy that my son is still blissfully ignorant of the darkness and horrors in a world that he is going to have to grow up in.

We gathered our sticks, examined a patch of clovers on the trail and headed back to a warm home with books on the shelf, food in the fridge and each other. We spent the evening painting pictures and playing games. A simpler day could not have been had, this heart heavy with gratitude.

Caravan

Certain things
Like citrus
And the mound of
Soft soil
Pressed between
The flesh of my fingers
Carve a path back to you.

There is an open field
And a canyon
And a dead end road
With your name on it.

You came
In like lightening.
Talking in tongues
Scorching this body
Illuminating the land.

You left
In a quiet caravan
Chasing the night…
Marking a trail
With rotten fruit and jagged stones
That leads to nowhere.

{poem/photo: JV}

My Go Twos Goes Green!

What a fun treat to be featured on a fashion blog! Who says gardeners don’t have style!

Thank you My Go Twos for a great morning spent taking pictures in the garden! For the full spread please click My Go Twos. Below you’ll find a few pics from this creative and artistic fashion website!

Gorgeous Greens and Garden Gifts

They say it’s the season of giving, but I say that nothing gives, or is more generous, than a garden. Plant, water, wait…that’s all it takes for an abundant, delicious and beautiful harvest. Of course, there is ‘hard’ work: inclement weather, weeds, bugs, mud and so on. But those are minor details in comparison to the riches that only nature has to offer.

This past week at the school garden we harvested our first winter greens, planted as seeds into the earth just a few weeks ago. It was an absolute delight to gift some of the moms ‘bouquets’ of organic red chard, curly kale and herbs, all grown with LOVE. What fun to see grown women parading through the garden with the same exuberance and joy usually only expressed by the children. Yes, fresh produce can do that.

This morning I was the recipient of a garden gift – a beautiful bouquet of blooms, just one of the countless joys of volunteering at a flower farm here in Los Angeles. I can’t wait to start receiving my CSA box twice a month as a trade for working the land.

Yes, the garden is all about reciprocity…giving and receiving. And, as with the most beautiful and worthwhile things in Life, the receiving is truly in the giving.

Happy December!

Garden Magic

It’s been a real boon in the school garden as of late. Last week’s L.A. sun inspired me to spend more days than not transforming our little oasis, and I’ve been lucky that help has showed up exactly when I’ve needed it. There is always magic in a garden if you put your whole heart into it.

I already told you about my new office. Well, mid-week I was looking at the gnarled and overgrown hedges that had reached a good fifteen feet tall. Yes, I have garden skills (said like Napoleon Dynamite), but climbing a very tall ladder with a chainsaw is not one of them (and I’m okay with that).

Would you believe the very next morning I arrived at school before 8am to find the blissful sound and smell of gasoline powered machinery: there was a guy in the hedges cutting them down to perfection. In the two plus years I’ve worked at the school never – ever – have I seen someone do this.

Also, and perhaps the most exciting part for the kids, is the fact that since day one I’ve wanted to remove a thirty foot long, ten foot high chain link fence that divides two areas of our little garden. But, I resisted pursing the fence removal, because I pictured having to get quotes from some contractors to do the work. I imagined some guy standing there with a clip board, work boots and name tag telling me that it would take three guys and three hundred dollars to remove and dispose of the metal monstrosity. Our entire annual budget for the garden is $500, so I sort of just put fence removal on my long term wish list, feeling stuck between what I wanted and what I perceived was possible.

Well, let me tell you, I mentioned to one of the parents that I wanted to remove the fence and the very next day he showed up in flip flops and shorts, rusty metal pliers in hand, and meticulously removed every last bolt, metal tie and wire wrapped pole – by hand. With the help of a gaggle of kids, an hour later the thing was gone, and now we have twice as much space to plant, water, dig, grow and harvest.

All the garden peeps were absolutely thrilled with the doubled real estate, and I am reminded that all things that really matter happen in due time. And, they don’t have to be expensive, elaborate or a big drama to get done. Ask for help, be patient and be open to the way it comes, enjoying the sweet little ‘victories’ as they gift themselves to you.

Let Me Be

Let me be the tree
And you the sun.
Run your rays
Through my hair,
Coax me to blossom and thrive.

Let me be the tree
And you the air.
Caress me with the lightest kiss,
Whisper your sweet song
In my ear.

Let me be the tree
And you the cloud.
My ancient form
Ready to receive
All you’re willing to offer.

Let me be the tree
And you the earth.
Forever entwined,
The line that divides
Imperceptible.

{poem/photo: Jill Volat}