Pandemic Haiku: Finding Hope and Healing in Seventeen Syllables May 1, 2020 14:09

(If you prefer to listen to this blog post, click here)

 We're all coping with this strange new normal as best as we can. I've certainly done a fair amount of yard work (for me, that means picking up fallen limbs and branches and throwing them onto the burn pile), stress cleaning, organizing, and experimenting with new recipes as a way of managing my own concerns and worries.

However, I've also found another effective coping mechanism for dealing with the uncertainties of lockdown lifestyle: writing daily haiku.

5...7...5: Three lines, seventeen syllables! It's the perfect form for staying present and honing in on a specific event or moment.

Since the middle of March, I've spent a few minutes every evening focusing on a specific image, memory, or happening from the day and attempted to capture the essence of that moment.

It started as a lark, really--a way to lighten the mood, and decompress from the onslaught of depressing news coverage, but after 40+ days of documenting my experiences in bite-sized poetry, I've discovered a few surprises. 

  Surprise #1 These poems have become important reminders that spiritual practices are not limited to the cushion. Actually, they are extensions of meditation, contemplation, and study. In a way, they are nuggets of attention, intention, and practical wisdom.

Full Pink Moon (4.7.2020)

Blushing in the dark,

she shimmers, while peeper frogs

cheer from deep ravines.

                  Imagine Leaving an Imprint (4.16.2020)

                  in warm sand, uncooked

                  pastry dough. Skull. Ribs. Pelvis.

                  Moving metaphors.

Vajrasattva Recitations at the Laundromat (4.30.2020)

Linens tumble dry.

Quarters, green numbers mark time.

Fluff. Fold. Purify.



Surprise #2  Much like an archaeologist digging for ancient artifacts in the sand, these poems are clues to what matters...what really matters right now (family, humor, nourishment, safety, nature).

Vegetable Soup (4.3.2020)

 Slow-cooked leeks, carrots,

 potatoes fill the house with

 the scent of normal.

                 Sock Monkey Bandana (4.10.2020)

                  Wore it as a mask

                  on a Target run. You thought

                  it was underwear.

Terrier Vs. Dandelions (4.27.2020)

 She runs through tall grass

 snatching heads of suns and moons

 between sharp, fierce teeth.

Surprise #3 Finally, these poems are evidence of connection and interconnection. They are reminders of the importance of compassion for others, gratitude, and thoughtful reflection.

Bright Spot (3.18.2020)

She waited in line

at Fresh Thyme, cradling yellow

tulips like a child.

                   Online Zoom Class (3.19.2020)

                   Somatic dancers

        rise, flow, soar, sway, transcend space

                    from small square boxes.

Miumiu and Paulo: “Fly Me to the Moon” (3.26.2020)

Two guitars, one voice.

China and Nashville share a

masterclass in grace.

               Idiopathic (4.14.2020)

               Storms and wind brought them:

                body twitching, head thumping

                hard against wood floor.

The Early Bird Gets the Clorox Wipes (4.17.2020)

Noon brings empty shelves:

vinegar, lemons, vodka—

Sleeping in has perks.

 To date, I have written 40+ pandemic haiku. I don't know how long this sadhana practice will continue, but as with every meaningful practice, motivation and intention are much more important than rushing to completion. Taking a break from frenetic busyness has many blessings and benefits. This haiku project, for me, has helped to recognize and appreciate them.

To view the mala collection, click here to access the Middle Moon Malas online shop.

Finding Meaning and Beauty in Isolation April 1, 2020 16:22

I’m not looking at the clock much these days. My life is not revolving around clock-time, anyway. I am following a schedule, of sorts, but it’s more intuitive—and highly dependent upon the present moment.

 I’m not waking up to an alarm clock. Actually, we’ve found that we don’t really need one. Zora usually wakes us up at 4:45 A.M. with her cat opera. Her feline sense of time is amazingly early and consistent.

Staying home has encouraged me to let go of compulsive list-making and bustling around to complete tasks A to Z. My day does revolve around a few requirements, such as meal preparations, household chores, and movement, meditation, and japa practices, but they don't have to occur at a specific time.

So, I’m not tethered to a clock—and I feel a bit unmoored because of it. I’m not accustomed to being guided by my own needs, priorities, and intuitive leanings. For example, I didn’t wake up this morning planning to deep clean the living room (If I did, I would typically think of a million other things to do instead), it just happened organically. And, I enjoyed it. I took my time dusting, sweeping, mopping. It didn’t feel like a have to—or a burden.

This “new normal” of not looking at the clock and fretting about “all the things” was not a spontaneous realization. It was a process—and not a very comfortable one. For three weeks I have been struggling with anxiety. Usually, it manifests as a hard knot of pressure around my heart that comes and goes throughout the day, or the nervous energy to do, do, do—compulsively checking emails, Facebook, the news, of all things, for reassurance—and, of course, not finding much there.

However, I noticed a shift occur sometime last week. I woke up and noticed thick, heavy fog outside my bedroom window. The old me (the one from three weeks ago) wouldn’t have considered walking outside in it, especially without having showered first.

The new me recognized immediately that this phenomenon was fleeting, so I threw on a pair of jeans, a sweater, and shoes. I grabbed my phone and Maya (our Yorkie), and we took a slow walk down our long driveway (800 ft) in the fog.

Everything looks different in the fog. It obscures familiar reference points, depth perception, and even sounds are more difficult to pinpoint and locate.

Walking in the fog became a practice of being present with what is. Because I couldn’t see the familiar, habitual landmarks, my attention was captured by the shapes of branches, pavement cracks, small puddles, droplets of water clinging to pine needles, a rabbit darting under bare branches of a mulberry bush, Maya’s small body shivering against my jacket, cool air against my cheeks.

The fog kept us rooted in the present. When I turned to look back at the house, it had disappeared. When I looked toward the end of the driveway, it was invisible.

Typically, when I walk down the driveway, I’m on a mission to get the mail. This time, I walked slowly, mindfully. I took time to take pictures—to be curious—to observe small details with an open heart and mind. This, too, was a practice.

Maya and I made it to the edge of the driveway to an empty, shrouded street. We had no destination, really, or objective. We were on a little journey, an awareness field trip.

We turned to walk back home, the fog slowly lifting with the sun. Each step along the way was like a recitation—a mantra of movement. This practice of slowing down—of doing less—no planning—no striving—nothing to attain, achieve, or realize—is just the beginning.

I still have moments of recurring anxiety. That tight knot returns around my heart, and I feel the pull of clock-time, that compulsive need to do, strive, and effort.  I think about this walk in the fog with Maya—of simply being, immersing in sensations, the present moment, and appreciating the beauty and stillness of uncertainty.

Thank you for reading--feel free to check out the Middle Moon Malas online collection of hand-knotted mala designs. This period of social distancing and isolation is ideal for personal practice. Not only will you benefit, you'll also be supporting a local online business with your purchase.  

 To listen to this blog post, click here

Climbing Mt. Kailash...One Tibetan Letter at a Time February 10, 2020 18:53

 "To learn is an act of deep work."  Cal Newport (associate professor of Computer Science, Georgetown University)

Some of the best opportunities that have occurred in my life were not the result of calculated planning, but out of being open, curious, and willing to explore the unknown.

Five years ago, I fell into designing malas and then building a small business (Middle Moon Malas) through this creative interest and a love of japa practice.

Two years ago, I discovered The Feldenkrais Method as well as other alternative movement modalities, and my physical, emotional, and spiritual health flourished as a result.

Two weeks ago, I landed, unexpectedly, in a small class that my dharma teacher is leading between his weekly dharma talks and prayer sessions on Sundays. I'm one of a handful of students studying Tibetan.

Learning a new language in my mid-fifties is much more challenging (and enriching) than when I was studying French in junior high school. The Tibetan alphabet is totally different from English, and several of the sounds are very similar, with subtle, nuanced distinctions. Therefore, the learning requires more time, deliberate care, practice, and patience.

It turns out, there are several benefits to learning a language later in life. It can improve problem-solving, critical thinking, listening, decision-making, and concentration skills. Learning a new language can also stave off dementia, mental aging, and cognitive decline. It also fosters deeper connections and appreciation of other cultures.

I found out about this class a few weeks in, so I'm a little behind and scrambling to catch up. I gave myself a week to learn the Tibetan alphabet--30 consonants, 4 vowels. That doesn't seem too demanding, right?

Uhhhhh.....

Turns out, I needed the full week. I spent about an hour each day learning and reciting the sounds of each new letter, tracing unfamiliar curves, arcs, and loops onto graph paper. I flipped through flash cards again and again, and I watched several YouTube tutorials in order to recognize, memorize, speak, and write these beautiful new letters that are like keys to a mysterious puzzle.

I barely deciphered the Tibetan alphabet in time for the following week's class. We're moving on to numbers and combining letters into words, which is an even deeper mystery for me.

I feel like I'm climbing Mt. Kailash, one Tibetan letter at a time. Thankfully, I'm not alone on this journey. I have a knowledgeable leader, a team of peers, and additional resources to guide me along the way. Most importantly, I'm enjoying the process. It's definitely challenging, but I'm benefiting from it a great deal.

I'm learning much more than a new language. I'm learning the value of maintaining Beginner's Mind. I'm learning the importance of being gentle and patient with myself (and others) as I navigate this new adventure. I'm learning the importance of moving slowly, deliberately, and without force. I'm learning that this new endeavor is intricately connected to my movement, meditation, and japa practices. Most importantly, though, I'm rediscovering that...

"Learning should be a pleasant, marvelous experience." Moshé Feldenkrais

 To listen to this post, click here

Jr. High Orchestra Saved My Life...and Inspired Me to Practice December 4, 2019 17:42

I happened to catch a film that I had seen bits and pieces of years ago. Hilary and Jackie focused on the relationship between Jacqueline Du Pré, who was an extremely talented and famous cellist, and her sister Hilary, who played the flute for a time.

Both were sisters, both were involved with music, and both supported each other in times of need.

Jackie was a prodigy and became a professional musician at a very young age. Unfortunately, her music career lasted only a short ten years before she was diagnosed with MS. She battled this devastating illness for 14 years before she died at the age of 42.

It was painful and heart-wrenching to watch her transform from a musical genius to a helpless invalid on film--but just as tender and heart-warming to see her sister nurture and support her.

Recently, I had an opportunity to present meditation and wellness practices to groups of educators at a local high school as part of their township's Professional Development Day. I was assigned to lead sessions in a 9th grade orchestra classroom. The acoustics were great, and the tiered levels of seats in a horseshoe pattern were ideal for these sessions.

While I was setting up for the first meeting, I noticed a chair and a framed photo mounted on the far wall of the room. When I walked over to check it out, I discovered that it was a tribute to a student who had passed away the previous year. Her name was Alex. She was smiling in the photo, caught in a slanting ray of sunlight. The chair had been hers in class, and her classmates had written warm, tender messages on the seat and backrest in silver Sharpie. This tribute was beautiful, moving...and devastating.

This was the third consecutive year that I had been invited to present stress-reducing breathing techniques, meditation, and movement strategies to overworked, exhausted educators. This was also the third year that I'd presented in this 9th grade orchestra room, which I appreciated. This room is calming, open, warm, and safe--it's also far away from the other sessions that take place at the nearby high school. 

Being in this room reminded me of orchestra class at Stonybrook Jr. High. These were definitely not the Wonder Years for me growing up--far from it. At that time I was living in a tumultuous home environment. I was teased and bullied virtually every day at the bus stop, on the bus, and in the halls at school. The only place where I felt safe at this time in my life was in orchestra class. No one made fun of me there. I liked the teacher, and I liked playing the violin. Playing music with other students made me feel like I mattered...that I had something to contribute...that I was valued and appreciated. I belonged. Orchestra for me was an oasis from daily battles and struggles. I was safe there and part of a community.

Being able to offer simple, practical techniques to help teachers nurture and take care of themselves in this setting has been a pleasure for me. I look forward to these annual sessions, and I appreciate being invited back. It made me feel good to know that these sessions fill up, and fill up quickly.  This year, we started with a breath practice similar to nadi shodhana, progressed to a somatic relaxation practice for the eyes. We did a little sounding--chanting the vowels--to stimulate the parasympathetic nervous system, a Feldenkrais-inspired shoulder exercise, followed by a body scan and a loving-kindness meditation. 

Thankfully, I no longer live in a tumultuous home environment. I am no longer harassed and bullied on the daily at school now. I have found safety in my own personal meditation, japa, and movement practices, and I look forward to visiting this orchestra classroom every year. It's a safe place where teachers gather--it's an oasis from the demands of teaching, even for just a day. It's a place of connection and interconnection, shared joys, hard work, and sometimes sorrow. It's a place of support...where people uplift and hold space for each other...it's a place to practice...and a place to grow.

Interested in growing in your own meditation practice? Check out the one-of-a-kind, hand-knotted malas in the Middle Moon Malas online collection (middlemoonmalas.com). 

Healing Is an inside Job...and a Community Project October 28, 2019 18:42

 We're all healing from something, which means we're all on a healing journey of one sort or another. 

I recently taught a Malas and Mantra Workshop at a yoga studio in Fishers, IN. I enjoy sharing what I've learned about the history, benefits, and techniques that can be used in a daily japa practice. A friend who I hadn't seen in several months happened to attend this workshop. She is currently on a Category 5 healing journey of her own--unfortunately, her cancer has returned with a vengeance, and she was interested in incorporating a daily mantra practice into her healing regimen.

Her parents happen to live near the yoga studio, so after the workshop ended, she invited me to their home so we could catch up and chat. I drove along the tree-lined, gravel driveway to a lovely, two-story home. I was greeted by her father, who had been working in the garage, and the sound of wind chimes drifting from the porch.

Michelle greeted me at the door and led me to the basement, where her parents  had remodeled the space into a fully functioning kitchen, specifically for her healing. The kitchen table was loaded with fresh fruit and veggies, and she had an impressive two-step PURE juicer that would grind, then press produce into nutrient-rich juice. 

She had conquered cancer before, and the first time around, she endured the standard Western medicine protocols: chemo and radiation. Unfortunately, years later, the cancer returned, and this time around, she listened to her intuition. She's following the Gerson Therapy protocol, which includes a holistic, nutritional approach to healing, and it encourages the body to heal itself. 

While we chatted, she made a batch of fresh carrot and green apple juice. She poured it into two prom goblets, and we toasted to each other's health, healing, and friendship. 

One of the things that impressed me the most was that Michelle was surrounded by loving people who supported her healing choices. She has the support of a team of physicians, dieticians, herbalists, energy workers, healers, friends, and family who respect her decisions, and who don't sabotage her healing by planting seeds of fear and doubt. Michelle is confident and at peace with her healing regimen, and the best news of all is, she is responding well to this protocol. Recent test results indicate dramatic improvement, she's gaining strength, and her complexion is healthy and radiant. She's listening to her intuition, and her intuition is leading her to healing.

While I have not had to contend with a cancer diagnosis, let alone two, I have had to contend with some serious obstacles.  Long before I learned about the benefits of mantra and practiced japa on the daily, I grew up in a home with a severely mentally ill mother and an emotionally unavailable step-father. Growing up in this environment was certainly not easy.  Even after practicing japa for several years, I'm not immune to suffering. However, the practice has helped me navigate my way through life's challenges.

Mantra recitations have helped give me the courage to leave a toxic, narcissistic employer; it helped me find steadiness during periods of financial uncertainty; it helped me remain calm in the face of fear, hopelessness, and anxiety; it  helped me stand strong when I needed to set boundaries and assert myself; and it continues to help me offer kindness, compassion, and forgiveness to those who may be unkind, cruel or harsh in the midst of their own suffering.

Japa is not a panacea, by any means, but it is a powerful tool for healing. The seeds of our healing and potential for growth are ultimately internal, and it's up to each of us to cultivate them, whether it's honoring our intuition, making wise nutritional choices, or choosing to meditate every day. Healing can't fully bloom, however, without the loving support of others. Community, too, is essential to our healing and growth as well.

Interested in starting your own japa practice to help you navigate and manage life's challenges? The Middle Moon Malas collection offers several beautiful designs. Or, contact us for a custom mala design.

T

Rest, Relax, and Abide: Finding Confidence and Courage on Retreat September 20, 2019 16:50

I'm not big on traveling. I like to travel occasionally, but I really have to be motivated, especially if it's a solo adventure. Crowded airports are stressful for me, and I'm not the greatest with directions, so I get turned around and lost very easily. 

Recently, I had an opportunity to attend a retreat and hear Her Eminence Jetsun Khandro Rinpoche teach at her Lotus Garden Retreat Center in Stanley, VA. I listen to her teachings and interviews online, and I have read her book, This Precious Life, so when I heard about this retreat, I was really motivated to go and hear her teach in person. The first step in dealing with any plan, obstacle, or challenge, is generating and maintaining the right motivation. Check!

Since the closest airport to Lotus Garden was two hours away, I decided the best option was to drive. I've taken shorter trips by myself before, but this was a ten-hour trip spanning four states. Needless to say, this was a big leap for me, and one well beyond my comfort zone.

After printing out directions, checking with my insurance to make sure I had roadside assistance, packing up the car, setting the GPS on my phone, I was ready to go. I even had a conversation with my teacher, Geshe Kunga, to let him know I was leaving. He was kind enough to give me an amulet to keep with me on my trip, instructed me to chant the Green Tara mantra, and said he would offer prayers of protection as well. Preparation and much-needed Support! Check and Check!

I chanted mantra the entire time I was on the road headed to Mindrolling Lotus Garden Retreat Center. Alternating between the 100-syllable Vajrasattva and the Green Tara mantra, I recited, in part, to help me stay focused, but more importantly, to manage my anxieties and fears of getting lost (which is ridiculously easy for me), breaking down, or getting run off the road by a runaway semi.

Chanting mantra helped me stay grounded, rooted in the present moment, and it added a welcome element of familiarity to a long journey full of change and unfamiliar landscapes. In short, mantra practice brought me safely to Lotus Garden.

It also served me throughout the retreat as well--from daily morning and evening prayers in the shrine room with the other retreatants to personal practice time in between teachings. I thoroughly enjoyed chanting quietly as I walked around the large lotus pond and along threadline paths that had gorgeous views of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

As the week progressed, I could sense my own confidence level increasing, as well as my ability to simply rest and be in the moment. One of my favorite meditation sessions was outdoors. Each retreatant (150 in all) was given a small tent to pitch along the grounds. Once our tents were ready, we were given a sack dinner, a chair, and instructions to meditate for three hours. The instructions were as follows: to simply relax, abide, and allow for the duration of the session.

Our session began in the late afternoon and ended in early evening. I pushed the chair out of my tent and lay on the ground in constructive rest pose. A somatic meditation approach was exactly what I needed to remain grounded and aware of everything shifting around me: 

patterns of light and shadow on the mountains

clouds drifting, gathering, and dispersing

a large spider busily spinning a web at the apex of of my tent

bird song shifting to chirping crickets

daylight easing into darkness

intermittent sneezes, coughs, the rustling of sandwich wrappers

and eventually, the sound of tent zippers, shoes on stiff grass and gravel as we made our way back to our rooms by flashlight

Over the course of the week, I noticed that my confidence and courage had increased dramatically, and my tendency to worry had diminished. Rinpoche's teachings surpassed my expectations. She was incredibly detailed, clear, and insightful. I enjoyed connecting with other practitioners as well. Even though the Mindrolling lineage was new to me, we had more commonalities than differences. I also enjoyed being able to take the time to improve my own practice in a fresh, unfamiliar environment.

I enjoyed my stay, and by the end of the week, I was eager to make my way home. Cell phone service was very spotty in this isolated area, so I had to rely on my printed instructions to lead me back to the highway. Ordinarily, this would be a cause for major concern, but I had the motivation, confidence, curiosity, and courage to find my way without worry or unnecessary anxiety (and I didn't get lost).

I also enjoyed the trip home, more confident in my independence and in my ability to navigate change: to rest--to relax--and to abide in this journey, and in all future adventures to come.

Business Perks of Rearranging, Purging, and Letting Go July 22, 2019 13:49

I have not read Marie Kondo's book; however, my life changed for the better when I overhauled my home office. 

It started at the ground level...literally. We've lived in our home for over twenty years, and the carpet in my office had lived there longer than that. It was time...overtime, really...for a change. I knew how much work it would take just to clear everything out of the room, but I couldn't stand the clutter anymore. It was truly hindering my motivation, efficiency, and business. I called Brothers Floor Covering in Indianapolis to come out and measure the space. They had installed beautiful flooring in our kitchen, living room, and upstairs rooms in the past, and they do great work. I had two weeks to prepare for this transformation, and I needed every minute.

I started with the closet, which was crammed full of photos, three-ring binders full of old lesson plans, grade books, yearbooks, self-help books on tape...cassette tapes, no less...journals, rolled-up posters, and random miscellany that was taking up valuable space.

It was overwhelming at first, but once I started to pick through the detritus of my past, things started to shift.

I recycled all of the old papers and lesson plans that I kept in the binders and donated two boxes full of books and tapes to Half Price Books. 

As soon as I cleaned off the top shelf of the closet, a friend of mine called me out of the blue and offered to give me a free twenty-minute consultation to help me market my business more effectively. Suuhhhweeeettt!

When I slowly transferred all of the books that "sparked joy" into the living room and dragged the bookcases down the hall with the help of my husband and a beach towel, I received an email from an event organizer inviting me to be a vendor at an upcoming United Way event to celebrate women entrepreneurs. Yes, thank you!

When I organized boxes of photos, poems, and journals, I sold nine malas at the Summer Solstice event, Monumental Yoga, in downtown Indianapolis. Woot! Woot!

Edgar arrived from Brothers Floor Covering two weeks after my phone call and single handedly transformed my office floor in just a few hours. He rolled away the old carpet that always smelled faintly (and sometimes not so faintly) of puppy pee no matter how often I cleaned it, and replaced it with beautiful COREtec flooring. 

When I rearranged the book cases and hung framed photos and prints on different hooks and walls, a client who had previously been dragging her feet, finally purchased the custom mala design she had commissioned me to make for her (and that I had completed the previous month). Halleluiah!

When I organized all of the books by topic, size, and subject matter, dusted souvenirs and knick knacks that had been hiding in the closet, placing them all with intention and care on shelves, a new client purchased two malas from the online shop. Yasss!

When I swept and mopped the new floor and replaced the bulky office chair on wheels with a smaller chair on casters specifically designed to promote active sitting (QOR 360), I discovered a free online summit specifically intended for sacred business owners and entrepreneurs in holistic wellness fields. Na.Ma.Ste!

From start to finish, this transformation took a full month to complete, but it was totally worth the effort and time. I now have a space where I can work and move about freely. I even have enough floor space that I can practice Feldenkrais lessons in my office when I need to take breaks. 

Rearranging, purging, and letting go of what I no longer need has helped me create a beautiful space for what matters NOW. Business has picked up (just had a request for a custom design while I'm writing this blog post), and I look forward to working in my office.

 Hmmm...I wonder what would happen if I tackled the hall closet :) ?

Personal and Public Practice: Striking a Balance June 14, 2019 12:27

I love my personal practices (meditation, mantra recitations, somatic movement), but I also enjoy sharing a common space with other practitioners, too.

Whether you're an introvert or an extrovert, ideally, a healthy spiritual practice requires a blend of both private and group settings in order to foster personal growth and social connections. 

Benefits of Personal Practice

Privacy and Agency: 

I begin each morning with a sadhana practice that my teacher gave to me. I sit in bed in my jammies while my dog and cat sleep on either side of me, and I recite, chant, and visualize the practice in the privacy of my own home. 

If I'm at school, and I have a few minutes between student tutoring sessions, I'll walk around the track and chant mantra. Adding movement to a japa practice with a little fresh air and sunshine is a great way to boost my energy and stay focused and sharp for my students. 

I also like to chant if I'm in the car alone on a long commute. It helps me to stay focused while I'm driving, and it's also a great way to ward off stress and anxiety during rush hour.

In the evenings, I sit on a cushion near my altar space to meditate. I'll light a candle or a stick of incense and practice for an hour. If I'm tired, sometimes I'll practice lying down on the floor. I have options--and I've learned the importance of being gentle with myself and taking care of myself as I practice.

Recently, I've discovered some wonderful Feldenkrais lessons online. I love ending each day with a movement lesson. I'm on a circular green mat in my living room. The lights are dim--the TV is on mute, if it's on at all, and it's just me, myself, and the movement practice.

Having the space and time to deepen and explore my own practices on my own terms and in my own way is nourishing and delicious to my spirit. I absolutely need the privacy and the time to practice every day in order to function properly.

Benefits of Public Practice

Connection and Support: 

 There's something really beautiful about sharing the practice and the space with other meditators or movers, too, however. In the last year, I have attended three, week-long retreats at a meditation center in Colorado.  Meditating in a large  group is very different from a session in the home space. Not only are you sharing a common physical space, and typically you're sitting very close to one another, but you're also holding space for each other in a communal practice setting. In this environment, you pick up on the subtle energies of the location and on the other practitioners around you.

The last time I was in Crestone, I kept getting images of eyes--close-up, huge, luminous eyes--of horses, of people, of cartoonish animated characters--big eyes everywhere! I'm not sure whose energy I was tapping into, but I was accessing unusual images and cultivating opportunities to sit with these differences in a non-judgmental way. It was interesting...and challenging.

Practicing in a group also lends itself to learning new ideas and strategies, too. I saw so many creative prop arrangements for seated meditation when I shared the space with 100 other meditators.

I recently started attending somatic movement classes. It's been nearly two years since I practiced in a group setting. I used to practice and teach yoga at a local studio, but I've since become a "reformed yogi" and prefer Feldenkrais lessons and other alternative movement modalities. I've missed the camraderie and friendship that practicing in a group environment can bring, and I'm so glad that I've found a local somatic group that I can practice with and feel safe. They are warm-hearted, friendly, and accepting. Having the courage to step out into a group space again has been a little unsettling, but it's important to nudge yourself beyond the boundaries of your comfort zone every once in a while. 

Practicing with a group is great, if the group dynamics are supportive and healthy. It took me some time to heal and deepen my own personal practices before I was ready to join another group, but I'm really glad I did. That supportive connection with others is so important.  

The closest I've come to chanting in a group setting is when I've attended an occasional kirtan event. Chanting and singing Sanskrit mantra with musicians in a group setting is a blast! It's an uplifting way to connect with others and clear away the energetic cobwebs. No one leaves a kirtan event depressed or angry.

I've also attended pujas and ceremonies at TMBCC in Bloomington where Tibetan monks have chanted prayers, sometimes for hours at a time. The energy of the temple is transformed when a group of a dozen or so monks are chanting. It is an energetically moving and powerful experience.

Introverts will gravitate to their own personal practices, and extroverts will undoubtedly be drawn to the public ones, but it's important for everyone to engage in both personal and public practices in order to benefit themselves and share these rewards with others.

For more information, or to view the online mala collection, visit www.middlemoonmalas.com. 

Making Your Personal Practice Personal with a Custom Mala Design May 10, 2019 15:34

I love it when customers contact me to create a custom design; it's one of my favorite things to do. I usually dive in right away, losing track of time as I sort through bead options and carefully arranging them on the tray that my husband  made for me (a large, rectangular tray made from aluminum sheet metal that contains 108 center-punched divots for the beads to rest in comfortably).

I've mentioned on previous Facebook posts and in conversations with people that I create custom designs, so for this blog post, I'd like to explain the process in more detail, in case you'd like a custom mala design for yourself, or you might know someone who would appreciate their own personalized mala design.

After all, it's your mala, and you have agency in every step of the process.

Step 1: Reach Out

Send me a message on the Middle Moon Malas Facebook page or through the Contact Us page here on the online shop and let me know that you're interested in a custom design.

Step 2: The Consultation

We can either chat by phone, email, text, or FB Messenger to discuss your design. Some people know what specific gemstones they'd like in their design (Picture Jasper, Goldstone, Aquamarine); others may not know the names of the stones, but they have specific color preferences (blue, green, earth tones); others are more interested in the significance of the gemstones since they'd like a design that aligns with a specific, personal intention (connection to earth, grounding properties, creativity, abundance, healing energies, etc). We also discuss bead size. Some prefer 8mm beads; others, 6mm; and some like a combination of 8 and 6mm beads. Some like counter beads in their designs (extra beads that function as resting points in a japa practice). Others just want 108 beads, which is fine, too. This initial communication is so important. Once I understand what your preferences and intentions are, I can begin to do a little research and offer specific bead options. When you're happy with those bead options, I create a layout design and send you a photo.

Step 3: You Choose Your Guru (and Sutra/Tassel Color) 

When you're happy with your mala layout design, I will share photos of potential guru options and sutra/tassel colors to choose from.  The guru is the "teacher" bead (sometimes called meru, or "mountain" bead), and since this will be a knotted mala, the sutra color is important since it connects and brings together the design, and a tassel of the same color will spill from the base of the guru or meru bead that you choose.

Step 4: The Finished Design

As soon as you decide on your guru and sutra color, the fun begins, and I can start stringing your custom mala. Most malas require two or three days to knot, string, and tassel. When your design is complete, I will share a photo of your completed design with you before making arrangements for payment and delivery.

 All Middle Moon Malas are unique designs. The malas available on the online shop are one-of-a-kind creations. However, with a custom design, you have a say in every aspect of the mala-creating process. It's your mala; it's your practice. Make your personal meditation, japa, or yoga practices even more personal with a custom Middle Moon Malas design.   

 (PS--if you like this particular design, it is available on the online shop--it's the Cuprite, Blue Goldstone, and Picture Jasper Mala)

Why Are You Chanting, Seriously? April 7, 2019 20:36



I spend an hour every day chanting mantra. I begin my day by practicing a short sadhana and use a quarter mala to mark the twenty-seven recitations in the morning. Then, later in the day, usually in the afternoon or early evening, I chant using a full mala (108 beads).

WHY? There are so many other things that I could do with this hour every day. I could watch something on Netflix or YouTube. I could sleep in for an extra hour, or take a nap in the afternoon. I could feed my brain with information and read a compelling article or blog. I could take a long walk. I could declutter and organize my kitchen cabinets or volunteer at an animal shelter or soup kitchen. Why would I choose to spend this time chanting Sanskrit mantra?

These are reasonable questions. For the last five years I have practiced japa on the daily, and given the choices listed above, I’d rather continue to invest the time practicing mantra recitations, and here’s why…

• “Mantra’s nature is to protect the mind from negativity.” Ven. Lozang Yӧnten

Unsupervised, I am prone to worry and restless anxiety. Driving, for example, can be a trigger for me. If traffic is heavy, or delayed by construction, if I’m concerned about being late, or if an unexpected warning light suddenly appears on my dash board, I can go from focused and alert to tense and frazzled in .02 seconds.

When these unexpected surprises occur, I find that reaching for the clicker counter that I keep in the closest cup holder and chanting while I’m on the road helps to keep me calm, relaxed, and focused, and it also prevents me from spinning out into a vortex of nervous loops of spazziness. Chanting keeps me grounded, present in the here and now, and prevents the infinite “what if” scenarios from taking over—it keeps me moving forward, even if I’m at a standstill in traffic.

• “By practicing mantra, we can drive our awareness deeper into the bones, muscles and tissues of the body to gain a greater sensitivity and understanding of our makeup and amplify the emotional energies latent within, much like the potential energy present in mountains that then becomes kinetic in the form of an avalanche when the earth quakes.” Gabriel Axel (“Your Brain on Om: The Science of Mantra, U.S. News and World Report , 2 Oct 2013)

In other words, a mantra practice can recalibrate the body and the mind, motivating us to reflect and improve.  Managing transitions is not one of my strong suits. When I come home from work, for example, I’m energetically exhausted and disoriented. I’ve entered that awkward bardo state between busyness and rest, from structured time to unstructured time, and japa practice can act as a helpful buffer.  When I sit on my cushion for formal practice, chanting mantra helps me navigate the change of environment and gives me permission to let go of the need to accomplish tasks. If I chant soon after coming home from school, I’m less likely to either go into Type A taskmaster mode (doing laundry, dishes, making dinner, or creating more items on the “to do” list) or self-soothing by taking refuge in junk food.

Sitting for thirty to forty minutes in the afternoon gives me an opportunity to process the events of the day, to relax, release, and ease into my evening. I feel more present and embodied. 

However, if I wait too late in the evening to practice, I grow tired and impatient, and my mind is too fuzzy or groggy to benefit from the practice. Late afternoon to early evening is ideal for me—it creates a smooth transition from Do-Do-Do to Be-Be-Be.

• “By allowing the mind to be permeated with compassion, you become one who upholds the integrity and purity of the practice. This, itself, is the key to liberating all sentient beings.”                                                                                                                       H.E. Jetsün Khandro Rinpoche

 This chanting practice is not just about me, and it doesn’t simply benefit myself. It can help others, too. The sadhana and mantra that I work with are part of a specific purification practice. Through it, I resolve to relinquish negative habits of mind and tendencies that harm myself and others.  I acknowledge, regret, and affirm not to continue these thoughts, actions, or habits that have the potential to cause harm (i.e. judging others harshly, being snippy or snarky with people when I’m impatient, spending money on things I don’t need, laziness, arrogance, etc.). There’s a visualization component to this practice—and mantra recitation is at the heart of this practice as well.  By actively and consciously acknowledging these habits and traits—and taking steps to cease, desist, and purify them, I am not only improving my own life, but making the world more tolerable for people who happen to be around me.

Outside of the purification practice, sometimes I will dedicate a round of mantra recitations to someone who is suffering (friend or stranger), or to a challenging situation or conflict (local or global). Chanting in this context becomes an offering and an act of compassion for others, and there’s never a shortage of subject matter since suffering and turmoil are ubiquitous.  The mantra can be short and sweet—it doesn’t have to be complicated to be effective. Om Mani Padme Hum is just one example.  What matters most is the intention behind the chanting practice, and the genuine focus and attention to the practice.

While watching Netflix or scrolling through Facebook may provide mindless entertainment and endless opportunities for distraction, mantra practice can actually improve focus, keep the monsters of attachment at bay, and help foster genuine compassion for others.

This Is a Test...of Your Meditation Practice...This Is Only a Test February 20, 2019 18:24

My practice said, “Bring it!”

The universe said, “OK!”

I recently completed a five-month meditation program in Crestone, Colorado, that included daily somatic meditation sessions, readings, lectures, monthly group calls, individual check-in calls, and two, week-long silent retreats, one at the beginning, and one at the end of the program. In addition to all of this, I also included daily personal practices: a sadhana and japa recitations. So, I’ve been doing a lot of meditating over the course of the last few months, and I’ve noticed an interesting trend…I am attracting all kinds of irritable, defensive, and angry people along with a few tumultuous situations as added bonus features.

What’s interesting…and new for me…I’m not freaking out about these cranky peeps and problems. In fact, I’m leaning in to welcome them…and to learn from them.

During these last few months, I’ve noticed that I’m more inclined to remain calm and steady, and I’m not taking the agitated behaviors or the unexpected surprises so personally.  These practices have helped me navigate my way safely into the “eye of the storm.” I may be surrounded by upheaval and drama, but I am no longer contributing to it or participating in it.

 I’m also not running away from it, which is new for me, too. I’m holding space and finding equanimity, and I credit these daily practices for helping me to remain calm and to generate compassion for these challenging people and circumstances.

Example:

I recently shared an interesting article that I read on a social media platform. It was about meditation—how important it is to choose your words carefully when cueing if you are leading a meditation session in a yoga class environment, particularly if students who are prone to anxiety are present in the class. This article was a personal narrative from the author’s blog. I thought she had some valid points and an interesting perspective, so I shared it.

A few minutes later, a Buddhist friend of mine wrote seething criticism about the article and questioned the author’s credibility as a meditation teacher. Clearly, he held a different view and interpretation of this article, which is fine, and as we exchanged comments, his language choice became increasingly more judgmental, agitated, and angry. The author did not write her blog from a Buddhist perspective, and she hadn’t trained in a specific lineage, so to my friend, this was not only appalling, but inappropriate. To him, only meditation teachers who trained with Buddhist masters for decades could be qualified to lead meditation sessions, even those occurring in local yoga studios. Ultimately, my friend commented that defending this author was deplorable, and before I could respond, he unfriended me.

The old me wouldn’t have engaged in an online debate to begin with. I would have been too timid to express my own views and explain why I found the article interesting and relevant. The old me would have complimented my friend’s vast knowledge of Buddhist wisdom (overlooking his obvious attachment and arrogance, of course) and apologized for posting the article in the first place. The old me would have immediately deleted the article from my timeline.

This time, however, I didn’t evade, avoid, apologize, flatter, or delete. Instead, using calm, respectful language, I defended my viewpoint. I remained open-minded and open-hearted as our written conversation progressed. I wasn’t participating in an argument—I was communicating in a clear, honest way. I wasn’t ashamed, angry, agitated, or scared. Instead, I felt relaxed, steady, and open. I also felt compassion for my friend, who was clearly growing more agitated as the conversation continued, but I didn’t take his reactions personally, and I also didn’t push my viewpoint or claim it was more valid than his. I did, however, feel sad that he ended the conversation abruptly and severed our social media connection.  I would have gladly recommended that he look into the meditation program at Crestone  :).   

Benefits:

Granted, I still have a lot of work to do (Don’t we all?), but it’s promising to see the positive benefits of a steady meditation practice both on and off the cushion. These are just a few that I’ve noticed from my own practice:

• I’m less judgmental and critical of others
• I don’t lead with my expectations (or ego) as often
• I’m more relaxed
• I’m more open-minded and receptive
• I’m more courageous and confident
• I speak up more
• I’m tactfully honest (or, at least aspire to be)
• I’m more accepting
• I’m more present

I've completed a retreat program, but I'm not planning to stop practicing anytime soon. These benefits will continue to motivate and encourage me to embrace whatever surprises may come my way... and to grow from them.

Surviving Abuse and Staying Grounded with Mantra, Movement, and Meditation January 12, 2019 10:15

2018 was a year of reflection for me. 2019 will be about speaking up, reclaiming my own power, and healing.  I taught yoga at a local studio in Greenwood for a few years. I came to the studio while I was taking a sabbatical from a high school teaching career. I enjoyed yoga and figured this would be a great time to take a 200-hour YTT training. It’s hard to spot toxicity and deception when you’re practicing something that’s supposed to be good for you and that makes you feel good. However, there were definitely some red flags at this studio.  It took me a while to see them, and even longer to act on them, but having a solid network of support and a grounded personal practice that included mantra, movement, and meditation was crucial for me to heal and move forward.

Things started out normal enough. I had taken a variety of classes and enjoyed them before eventually paying $3K for the YTT program. As the trainings and classes progressed, though, I started to notice some disturbing patterns.  Sometimes, and for no discernible reason, there would be a heavy, thick tension in the studio space. The studio owner would be aloof and moody on occasion, and then more frequently, and for longer stretches of time. She angered easily, she was easily triggered, and she often threw her then business partner under the bus at the slightest sign of drama or conflict. I assumed these were flukes—simply occasional private issues on the business end that were leaking into the public studio space. No worries, right???

However, as time passed, secrets, half-truths, miscommunications, and, at times, a total lack of communication became more prevalent and pervasive. I was slated to complete my training in early fall 2013, but the business owner ran off to Vegas for several weeks. All modules and YTT trainings ceased, and her business partner was left to run the studio alone. Students and clients had lots of questions, and understandably so—they wanted to know where she went—and when she was to return—and why she left so suddenly. These were all reasonable concerns (I was concerned she was gambling away our YTT cash!). Her business partner's response? She went to Vegas to have dental work done—and he wasn’t sure when she was coming back.  Uh-oh—serious doubts were beginning to germinate!

The good news is, I did eventually graduate from their YTT program, albeit several months after when I had anticipated. Apparently, Vegas has very meticulous dentists! She and her partner are very knowledgeable about yoga; that's what made their program so appealing--but knowledge alone doesn't make an effective teacher. Ethics matters--how you treat people matters.

I was asked to teach a Yin class at the studio later that spring. I enjoyed practicing Yin, and I had also taken additional training with Bernie Clark in Vancouver, which I enjoyed immensely. I enjoyed teaching Yin as well. I loved working with my students. I enjoyed creating sequences and providing modifications or alternative poses for them to explore in order to discover what was right for their own bodies. I also went to Kripalu for specialized training in Prenatal Yoga, and I taught a prenatal class at the studio as well. I also picked up an all-levels class during the day. I spent a lot of time at the studio—either taking or teaching classes. 

While I focused my attention on my students and on improving my own practice, the red flags were still present, and they were multiplying. 

Now that I was on the studio’s payroll, I felt like I was walking on egg shells. I never knew what mood the business owner would be in, and I never knew what would set her off. She could be very domineering and manipulative in and outside of her classes. She would befriend a select few of her students—she'd laugh, talk, and even socialize outside of class with these favorites. She'd compliment them, brag about them in class, let them in on secret jokes,  but then she’d ignore others, and she would be quite cruel and emotionally abusive to those she deemed weak or fragile. She could be unnecessarily harsh at times, a cruel and manipulative bully. I was never one of her favorites, but she didn't unload her wrath on me, either. She was occasionally snappy, rude, and judgmental with me. I was just a collateral nuisance.

In September of 2016, I stopped attending her classes. I reached the point where I couldn’t listen to her voice without feeling angry. It was disrupting my own practice. I continued to teach at the studio, however. I had hoped that avoiding her classes would create enough of a distance. I would focus on my own students and my own practice. This worked for a while…sort of.

She was never a transparent communicator to begin with—very mysterious and  aloof. Because I didn’t see her in the studio as regularly, the communications I did receive were either urgent, demanding emails (about things that weren't urgent at all) or passive-aggressive Post-it notes left on the desk, stereo, thermostat, or bathroom door. Her lack of professionalism was staggering.

Her business partner had departed by this point, and she continued to host YTT immersions on her own. I was fortunate to have been in a training that spanned up to two years to complete. At this point, however, she was hosting more frequent intensives that ran only three-months long, which is not nearly enough time to integrate the material necessary to be an effective yoga teacher. I wasn’t on the receiving end of the emotional abuse and unnecessary drama that she was inflicting on these YTT students, but many of them were, and they were coming to me to vent and share their concerns.

At this time, I was taking a meditation teacher training program at another yoga studio in the area. I was thoroughly enjoying the daily meditation practices. When I took occasional trainings and workshops at other studios, the studio owners and students were so genuine, warm, caring, and professional. The contrast was alarming when I compared it to where I was teaching. At this time, I had also discovered Reggie Ray’s The Awakening Body and was practicing somatic meditations daily as well. This, along with my japa practice and home yoga practice were keeping me rooted, grounded, and sane.

I stayed at this studio because I enjoyed the practice.

I stayed at this studio because I enjoyed teaching yoga.

I stayed at this studio because I enjoyed working with my students.

I stayed too long…

Even though I had stopped taking her classes, I did not feel right about teaching in such a toxic studio environment, and I didn’t feel right working for someone who I did not respect. I continued to hear from her students about her outbursts of rudeness and cruelty, and I didn't know what to do about it. I don't think others did, either--they just left and didn't return--and a lot of people left. She blamed it on "the space." Said it determined who stayed and who didn't. Looking back, that's just nuts!

Hindsight can be quite painful, and in hindsight, I knew that by continuing to teach in her studio, I was guilty, too, guilty of willful blindness and complicity to this abuse, even though I was an occasional victim myself.  Even though I didn’t participate in the abuse itself, I was a bystander, and I didn't speak up, and that was not acceptable.

Ironically, though, I don't think a lot of the students who took weekly classes there were even aware that this was going on. It was so subtle--or behind the scenes. Maybe they caught a glimpse--a snatch of her moodiness--a sliver of tension. It wasn't blatant enough or direct enough to catch their collective attention, however. If it did, they ignored it, too.

Late in the fall of 2017, when I found out about a somatic meditation retreat program in Crestone, CO, I decided to leave the yoga studio.

I had been mired in and teaching in a dark, toxic environment, and I had found something nourishing and positive to lead me away. But, I didn’t leave without help. I found Diane Bruni’s Facebook group to be extremely helpful. It was here that I was introduced to alternative movement modalities to supplement the gaps that yoga doesn’t fill for me. I also discovered Matthew Remski’s research and writings about cult dynamics. His research proved  to be a life raft for me. He has a book coming out in March of this year that I can’t wait to read (Practice and All Is Coming: Abuse, Cult Dynamics, and Healing in Yoga and Beyond). I also found Rachel Bernstein’s work to be extremely helpful as well. She’s a licensed therapist who has twenty years of experience working with cult survivors. Her podcast, IndoctriNation, is an excellent resource. I’ve recently started to work with a holistic chiropractor in Franklin. Dr. Amanda Meyers is excellent, and she is helping me to address and heal the physical symptoms that have manifested in my own body as a result of this traumatic experience.

Since leaving the studio, I no longer teach yoga publicly. Instead, I have spent the year focusing on my business and my own mantra, movement, and meditation practices at home. These practices have been healing for me, and they have restored my own sense of integrity and authenticity.  I’ve also found a source of comfort and support at TMBCC, a Buddhist center in Bloomington, and I continue to surround myself with kind-hearted, positive, genuine people.

 What have I learned from all of this?

• Be very, very careful about choosing a teacher (yoga, meditation, dharma, etc.). While it’s important that he/she is knowledgeable, knowledge alone is not enough—being professional, having integrity, compassion, empathy, and ethics are essential, too.
• Listen to your intuition and your body (if I had listened to the soft whispers of intuitive wisdom and the nagging aches and pains sooner, I would have moved on sooner, or responded differently!)
• Cultivate and maintain a personal practice that suits you in order to nourish yourself. I hope that while I was teaching at this studio, I was able to make a positive impact on the students I served. They mattered to me, and I stayed as long as I did because of them.
• Speak up! Bullies, narcissists, and leaders of high need groups require passive bystanders in order to get away with spewing their hateful cruelty and crazy talk. I wish I'd had the courage to speak up in the studio--to look her right in the eye and say, "Enough! That's inappropriate! Stop it!"

I'm speaking up now--better late than never.