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

Special Delivery

The garden is booming these days and gifts are pouring in both in and out of our little schoolyard oasis. We planted our summer tomatoes a couple of weeks ago – little seedlings gifted to us by The Learning Garden at Venice High School. I love that one school garden is helping another.

Similarly, I received not one but two garden gifts this week. First, a package arrived from northern California full of organic seeds for our garden! An elementary school friend of mine (who is super busy with work and family) took the time to hand select the most wonderful assortment of organic seeds for our kids. I am so touched by this beautiful gesture!

Also, this week I was invited to tea by a school parent to discuss the spring garden party we are planning for early May. She lavished me with Persian Rose Tea, homemade bread, hand-cracked walnuts and sweet and juicy citrus – my favorite! She even sent me home with a jar of rose water and a few goodies for my kitchen as a thank you for the ‘work’ I’m doing in the garden.

I feel very blessed these days. The garden is full of love, and so is my blooming heart.

Greens, Ganesha and the Schoolyard Garden

The schoolyard garden is such an immense source of amusement, joy, learning and contemplation that I barely notice I’ve created a part time job for myself for which I receive no payment.

And yet it’s full of riches.

Not to be cliché or corny, but, seriously, the hours I spend as the ‘Garden Lady’ at my kid’s school are some of the best of my entire week. This is my third year running the Garden Club, where we weed, water, grow food and play in the dirt after school. Starting a few weeks ago, we’ve added a ‘Farmer’s Market’ to the Friday mix, and now, on the verge of spring, we are very much in the flow of all this happy garden activity.

By Wednesday, the kids are asking me what we are selling for the Friday market, and I awoke yesterday excited to bake muffins and purchase some glassware from the thrift store around the corner to use as vases for our little garden bouquets. Two different families brought in huge bags of lemons from their trees for us to sell. You should have seen the kids beaming as they walked the brown paper bags full of fruit to our farm table, met by all the other kids oohing and aahing over the little gems. They quickly got to work arranging the fruit in pretty baskets and crates. These ten year olds run the entire stand by themselves for over an hour. Yesterday’s total: $33. Not shabby for some muffins, lemons and a few flower bouquets. I’m going to use the money to purchase plants today from a local high school plant sale – keeping the garden manna flowing.

I have learned so many interesting ‘little things’ along the way in this garden. There is an overzealous oregano plant in one of the raised beds that produces more potent little leaves than I’ve ever seen. During my garden tours I always have the kids pick a leaf and rub it between their fingers, explaining that this is the herb that’s used in Italian tomato sauce. It sounds so basic, but you can really see the lights go off in their heads as they make this tiny connection: “Oh, yes, this stuff grows in the ground, it doesn’t just magically appear in a can on a supermarket shelf.”

We have a very international school, and in the two years since I’ve planted that tiny oregano, a teacher from Romania explained to me that Romanians adore oregano and use it more than salt in their cuisine. Yesterday a mom from India asked to purchase an herb bundle with just oregano (I had mixed herb bouquets on the table). As I cut her a big bunch of just oregano, I asked what she was going to do with it. She explained that in India, you don’t cook with it, but that oregano is a sacred herb that’s used as an offering to the gods. This fascinates me! We had a little chat about Ganesha (she was shocked that not only do I know about this deity – the remover of obstacles, but have a little crystal statue of him by my bed – but that’s getting a little off topic for this garden post.)

This magic is always offset by the ‘practical parents’ who have to buzz kill all the delight going on before their very eyes. Yes, it takes all kinds, and becomes a practice of acceptance (at least that’s what I tell myself). Yesterday it was a parent grad student who visited the garden for the first time. After an hour of about 40 kids and parents digging, weeding, watering, harvesting, selling and (imagine that) relaxing, she came up to me and said: “So, Jill, what’s your ‘grand plan’ you know, your ‘vision’ for the garden club?”

I stood there sort of dumfounded and ever amazed at how the ‘smart’ grown-ups over think, over analyze and kill all that naturally wants to grow, and what is so obvious to the kids. We ARE LIVING our vision, this is it, I thought to myself. This is an elementary school garden in the middle of the city not a grad school botany class!

I collected myself, paused and smiled: “Our master plan is to grow food and have fun doing it.”

Never a dull moment.

Happy planting.

Inner Garden Oasis

I don’t know if it’s the heady scent of the newly planted Jasmine, or the fumes coming off the recently painted benches, but something takes hold the moment I enter the little secret schoolyard garden. We’ve transformed something. We’ve taken love, hard work, a few free seeds and some donated soil, and have created a little oasis for ourselves.

It’s absolutely delightful. And it’s more than the sum of its parts.

There is a magic to it that’s hard to pin down. And I’d never want to. Quite the opposite – rather than limiting it with words or some logical explanation, I want it to just keep growing and growing.

And it does. And it is.

It’s the email I got two days ago from an elementary school friend I knew 30 years ago who’d read on my blog about my work at the school garden. She asked for my mailing address just so she could send some seeds from Northern California as a donation to our garden efforts. In a small but very sweet way, she wanted to be a part of what we’re doing. It’s the mom who approached me yesterday asking when our spring garden party is going to be because she wants to make homemade baklava (how could she know baklava is my all-time favorite dessert?). It’s the fact that I’ve been looking for a garden table for months, and just yesterday discovered one sitting behind a school bungalow that’s been there all along. And it’s the dad who helped me move it into the garden yesterday who, as it turns out, doesn’t even have a kid at that school, but was just passing by to look at the garden.

Something is happening. And it’s not just in the garden. The right people are coming in at the right time. I’m sensing things. And I’m fully trusting it more and more.

Last night I uncharacteristically called a friend at 10pm, who, as it turns out was in the middle of writing me an email because she wanted to talk to me but didn’t want to call too late. We spoke for two hours. It’s the feeling last week that I needed a break from cooking weekly dinners for my parents, only to get a text ten minutes later from my mom: “I made you a three course dinner so you don’t have to cook, can Dad and I bring it over tonight?”

There is practice to this. And trust. The practice of asserting less and allowing more. This goes against what we are taught: to destroy and conquer. To pursue. To overpower. I’m realizing that when you get in alignment with what you want and where you are going, you can just relax into just be-ing and enjoy what comes up.

There is patience and a willingness to sit with some discomfort of not knowing. Also being willing to be with an energy that has a Presence, but hasn’t yet taken a physical form. But it’s well worth it. And in ways, it’s even more enjoyable, because there is no limit to it. It’s union with the Divine.

And you end up cultivating and living within an inner garden that is even more beautiful than the heart achingly gorgeous flowers and plants that greet each day, sun shining inside and out.

The-Little-Garden-That-Could

The schoolyard garden, along with my place in it, grows, develops and reveals itself over time. I am grateful for this beautiful blessing and unfolding.

It’s a lovely process to experience. Both outside in the sun amongst the plants, and inside amongst myself. The little-garden-that-could stands proud, tucked away beside a mass of concrete and freestanding bungalows. It’s home to raised vegetable beds, citrus trees, orange gladiolas, a new flower garden and more magic than I care to express out loud.

I don’t need to…it speaks for itself.

The garden, and my role in it, has grown in the three years since I started there as “The Garden Lady.” And I like it that way. Not knowing or forcing invites an alchemy and anticipation of something extra special. And it always comes.

Last week we started our Friday Farmers’ Market. The night before the big unveiling I borrowed a folding table, picked out my brightest table cloth and painted a sign with my son. That morning we harvested bundles of greens and tied them with twine; made ‘edible bouquets’ and placed them in re-purposed mason jars; packaged baby lettuce greens and edible flowers; grabbed a few oranges and lemons from my tree and bagged up dried organic bananas that I’d run through my dehydrator. We then set up our wares after school, hoping to offer a little competition to the Friday ice cream stand that was just around the corner.

You cannot believe the attention we got from the parents and teachers. The kids naturally took on the role of garden ambassadors, explaining what we’d grown (from seeds, thank you very much), offering garden tours, asking people to purchase our wares, answering questions about what we do in garden club, and coming up with ideas for what to sell next week (strawberry lemonade with garden mint was at the top of the list).

I stood back, filled with a sense of awe and delight that’s hard to express.

We did this, I thought to myself.

Not me, US. The kids, the parents, the plants, the community. The little-garden-that-could.

Like mixing the most beautiful perfume or recipe or swirl of paint, we anointed ourselves with the aroma, feasted on the magic and painted ourselves into a beautiful life. We made something out of nothing and came together to nurture, procure and offer something that we as humans have been doing for thousands of years: feeding ourselves and each other.

In terms of nuts and bolts, in the first week we made fifty-two dollars. That might not sound like much, but when you consider that our entire annual budget is five hundred dollars, making over ten percent your first week is nothing to balk at. To boot, on Monday, back in the garden, as I watered before the bell rang, one mom stopped by with packages of seeds as a gift to the garden and another handed me two oranges she’d picked from her tree to sell this Friday.

These tiny gifts are priceless jewels, gestures of possibility, and affirmations of understanding for what we are really doing here. It’s not the seeds or oranges or fifty bucks that I’m going to use to buy more plants. It’s a community and a life and a lifestyle we are building.

We are truly feeding people: a bundle of greens, a slice of citrus and a moment of simplicity. Manna in a life that’s already bursting with sweetness and abundance.

Happy planting.

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.

Be Daring

Doorway

Tread lightly
On me.

Say less, do less.
Be generous in your offerings -
Hand me more questions
Than answers.
Do not show me the way.

Be modest.
Cover yourself -
Your body, your head,
Perhaps even your toes.

Let me see
Next to nothing of you.

But a glimpse
Of your glowing heart
Which slips through
A tear in your breast pocket…

Which I recognize
As the doorway
To a thousand
Yet unnamed adventures.

{poem/photo: JV}

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.

Oranges & Oaks are My Sweet Spot

Solstice, Citrus, Seeds and Spontaneity…..

Well, we made it. December 21, 2012. The shift has been happening for all of us for quite some time, but this year in particular was quite an odyssey.

I am so grateful to be here.

This morning, as near-blinding light streams through the windows of my home, and I sit with warm coffee and a cozy sweater, my heart feels happy and alive. I’m still glowing from a spontaneous visit to Santa Barbara a couple of days ago where we visited a sweet friend’s home, picked citrus from her grove and collected acorns from her 300+ year old oak trees.

Oranges and Oaks are my sweet spot.

My son and I woke up Wednesday and spontaneously decided to visit a u-pick farm in Somis, CA. We drove all the way out to find that nothing was ready except for a few hungry goats nudging us for carrots!

Not a problem. We blew out of Somis and headed north to my friend’s house where her trees were very ready. The drive on the 118 from Somis up to Santa Barbara is pretty much heaven. Farms, old houses, mountains, citrus, clear blue sky. It’s the Old California that is timeless and so heart achingly gorgeous. Postcard country.

I don’t know what it is about orange trees, but they seem to have some magical power over me. The vibrant colors, the heady scent of the blossoms, the sound of the bees hovering, the delicious juice…even the tang of the bittersweet peel that you can turn into marmalade!

And then the oaks…don’t even get me started. Majestic, regal, powerful. My son, friend and I collected hundreds of acorns. I thought of the Native Americans who used those seeds for nourishment. I wondered what the land looked like hundreds of years ago before it was a ‘city’ when the tribes lived there and honored and respected all of nature’s power, beauty and abundance. Not unlike we did that afternoon.

My friend sent us off with overflowing bags full of fruit and acorns, and happy hearts. The Native Americans did not embrace the concept of ‘ownership’ of the land. We inherit it from our parents and borrow it from our children. We are its keepers. Imagine if we thought of the entire earth – and each other – in this way.

So, rather than ‘wishing’ my friend’s home was my home, I simply opened to and filled up with the beauty of the experience, the moment. When you seek the ‘essence’ of what you want, you don’t need ownership…it just comes. Let it come to you!

For me that was a gorgeous California day spent with people I love – and who love me – inspired and nurtured by nature’s never-ending gifts and abundance.

Back in L.A., my home is brimming with bowls of acorns and a citrus centerpiece. To this garden lady, they look like treasure chests filled with jewels. Beauty is cultivated on the inside, but being surrounded by gifts from the garden is a treasure indeed!