Evolution of a Yogini

Zenning out in the Trinity Alps

I first discovered yoga when I was about 6 years-old. To little me, yoga meant sitting in lotus pose and chanting “ommmmmmm”. When I reached high school, yoga simply meant stretching. Then, in college, I finally took a yoga class and realized that yoga meant.... sleep. My middle-aged hippie yoga instructor feared that mid-semester her over-stressed students would prioritize studying over doing yoga and would inevitably drop the class. Her solution was pure genius - give students credit just for showing up even if they didn’t do a single downward dog. She set up a relaxation station in the dark back corner of the room with pillows and blankets and my fellow students and I curled up listening to tribal drum beats and our own breath. 






Fast forward to late 2009. There I was, dealing with another failing relationship, and in a moment of profound clarity I realized that yoga was the answer to all my problems! So I shopped around for a yoga studio and teacher that I could relate to. I took classes all over town based on friends’ recommendations and they were all duds. Freezing rooms to boiling roomjs, barking nazi-drill-sergeant Bikram instructors to instructors sans personality, community centers, health clubs, gyms, yoga/zumba/pilates studios.... NOTHING resonated with me. Until one fateful day. My friend Lorelle’s husband’s colleague’s wife had just opened up a yoga studio in town and she was raving about it. Lorelle had led me astray before in my mission to find the perfect yoga class so I was a bit reticent, but nevertheless I showed up. POW! It was like the stars had aligned and I was bestowed upon the power of zen-state exercise. My teacher was AMAZING - funny, yet grounded.

Warrior 2

The style is a Power Vinyasa inspired by Baron Baptiste. The room is heated to 92 degrees and it’s a quick-paced flow. Each class incorporates different poses (unlike Bikram), but overall it’s the same general sequence. It’s definitely a workout - both cardio and strengthening. But for me, it’s the fast pace flow that really “zens me out”. You’re moving so quickly that there isn’t time for thoughts to creep in. If they do, you’ll fall over. So you focus on your body on that exact moment and your mind will clear.   

I started going about once a week and it slowly increased over time. It took one whole year before I could FINALLY touch my toes! Now I do yoga almost every day and I feel amazing! When I returned from South America, my teacher gave me a job in the studio working a few hours a week. I arrive around 6am every day to open the studio and greet folks with a smile as they drag in their half-awake bodies for some early morning yoga . Sure, waking up at 5:30am every day is brutal, but I love working there. Endorphins and positivity fills the air and I am immersed.

Next step in the evolution of this yogini: attend a yoga teacher certification program.  :)

Girl Anachronism

In downtown Santa Rosa, abandoned train tracks slowly deteriorate through a fallow lot adjacent to the bustling Railroad Square historic district. The county has passed a measure to develop a passenger rail system through this area, but due to budget shortfalls, this goal has not been realized. So for over a decade the empty lot just stood still, waiting. Until 2008, when a few locals dreamed up the idea of building early 20th century style handcars and racing them down the tracks. Coupled with a festival featuring victorian/steampunk costumes, local bands, and Burning Man style art pieces, they called this event The Great Handcar Regatta. Now in it's fourth year, Handcar Regatta has become a symbol of art and creativity in Santa Rosa.

So yesterday, I yet again dug through my costume bin searching for the perfect regatta outfit and I am quite pleased with what I came up with. P.S. I LOVE dressing in costume.

Being that the regatta is one of the biggest social events of the year with thousands of people attending, I had no trouble locating friends. Together we watched uniquely designed handcars race down the tracks, spectated the oddities, and complimented each others outfits. There is a rumor that the passenger rail will begin being built in 2012 so it may be that The Great Handcar Regatta will cease to exist and slowly fade into myth. But I'm going to be optimistic and hope that's not the case!

Sprichst du Deutsche?

La Casa de Avila

When I arrived in Peru I knew very little Spanish. I knew the basics: hola, adios, yo quiero taco bell, etc. I communicated with taxi drivers by pointing out my intended destination in the Lonely Planet guide book. Communication was sub-par and loneliness ensued until those glorious days in Arequipa when I participated in a 1.5-week Spanish immersion program with La Casa de Avila. Then, poof! Three years of high school Spanish lessons flooded back and I could speak! It’s like when Ariel got her voice back and could finally express her love to Prince Eric.

P.S. I LOVE The Little Mermaid.

Learning a new language opens the door to a wider range of experiences both at home and away. Not only can I tell the spanish-speaking exterminator where the dead rats are (hay una rata muerta en la cocina), I can also fake people out and pretend I’m from a different country. This is great way to avoid awkward situations. Commit a faux pas? Why, simply string a couple sentences together about how you don’t speak English or understand the local customs! Unfortunately, this trick doesn’t work so well with Spanish in California since the majority of people have a basic understanding of the language. That is why I pretend to be German.

I enrolled in Deutsche 1 at the local junior college in July while I was spending an immense amount of time with The Austrian. Why of course I would want to learn his mother-tongue! Now it seems ridiculous to have chosen German, a language that very few people in my country speak, that is until last night. I met up with some friends at the local brewery. It was late in the evening and we’d been enjoying the warm summer night on the patio, sipping beers and laughing loudly. The group of guys next to us got up to leave, but one lagged behind and announced to the others, “Hey, wait up! I need to tell this girl she is beautiful before we leave!”, and then he approached ME. He said hello. Unsure about how to handle the situation, with a big smile I responded with, “Guten Abend! Wie geht’s? Sprichst du Deutsche?” Flabbergasted, he mumbled something about Nuremberg and only speaking a little German and ran off. “Auf Wiederhesen!” I called waving goodbye to him and the awkward situation that I’d dodged.