om time WOW

Meaghan de Roos

Meaghan de Roos is one of om time’s phenomenal up-and-coming young teachers. A student of Seane Corn, Meaghan is very dedicated to inspiring her students and fellow yoga teachers to taking their yoga Off the Mat, Into the World through igniting a desire for sacred activism.

After years of struggling with self-image issues, including an eating disorder, Meaghan discovered the practice of yoga – and her mat became a sacred space for practicing the art of living. Meaghan’s classes are empowering, uplifting and challenging, set to a funky soundtrack of music – including, but not limited to some of her beloved reggae jams.

As regional representative for Off the Mat, Into the World, Meaghan works to inspire fellow yoga teachers in finding their passions in life and moving towards becoming a leader in the community. Meaghan teaches a 7-week intensive workshop at om time yoga, open to all yoga teachers. Stay tuned for details on the next round here at www.omtime.com!

For the month of February, all of Meaghan’s regularly scheduled classes will be at a rad $10 drop-in. Come and play!

om time Boulder

Saturdays 10:!5 – 11:45am

Sundays 12:15 – 1:30pm

Easy.

I sat at in the ferry building today having a quick bite with a friend. She insisted I take the better view since I was just visiting the Bay area. She is divine. She is sweet. She is beautiful and easy. We do not see each other very often, nor do we play phone tag or text everyday. We don’t need to; as friends, we are very easy with each other. We simply see one another when we see each other and we share a tea, a cupcake, or an effortless afternoon.

Though we have not spent years cultivating a daily closeness, nor been through any huge transitions together, we find an easy conversation with one another and a place and a space in the heart to bounce off ideas and musings, hopes, dreams, and current shifts in life.

This great ease has given me a space to reflect on the very nature of friendship and who I am as a friend. I consider myself recently in recovery of some serious childhood wounds.

I remember my mother consoling me one afternoon, post a middle school dramatic “break up” with my then best friend. Simply, this so-called-b-f-f decided THAT DAY that she would no longer speak to me. Not only would she no longer talk to me; right then and there, she claimed a new best friend and refused to tell me what I had done to warrant the massive affront to me 13-year-old-self-esteem.

I cried so hard at school the nurse made me mom come get me.

My mom collected me off the girls room floor where I spent the better half of 4^th period sobbing and took me straight home, letting me cry and wail unintelligibly the entire ride. Once save in her domain, she sat me down, as she often did, at the kitchen table and put a cup of tea in my hands. I did not even really like tea at the time, but there was something centering and therapeutic about drinking a “grown up” drink. She explained to me that sometimes people are “fair weather friends.” As in, they are only friends when the weather is sunny and sweet but not when the rain pours down around you.

Though the logic made sense at the time, my heart was still quite broken and deeply affected. I did not understand how someone could love me and laugh with me and then UP and leave me? Was this what life had in store for me after middle school?

Of course, the week went by, the emotional weather cleared, and a youthful friendship was restored. I put it immediately behind us and we never really talked about it again. We simply focused on that which thirteen-year-old girls do. We never looked back.

It happened again in college, in another friendship altogether. However, as with anything when one ages, the stakes were raised. I took a year off from college for financial reasons and missed my senior year at the university. During that time I fell in love with and married my first husband. Shortly after all that geographical, educational and emotional shifting, I was diagnosed with cancer. At the juncture when I needed a best friend the most, my college friend simply refused to talk to me. Refused. Through others it was communicated to me that she could not manage a friendship with someone who was so sick.

I felt broken, unworthy, and abandoned. I knuckled down, made it through, depended on my mom and that kitchen table a great deal. I learned to really love tea. I did not look back. I got a divorce. A part of me hardened and I learned the meaning of what it IS when someone calls oneself jaded.

Years went by, one marriage ended and a fantastic friendship blossomed into something powerful, real, new, and eventually a partnership of life and happiness. I married Joe. I began to heal. Healing, I have learned, can be messier than the original wound.

My life transformed from one of constant daily stress and strain in the restaurant industry to one of wellness and general focus on living more consciously day-to-day.

Then it happened, I started to get sick again. Oh, and then AGAIN. The fear kept creeping in with a poor test here and a lump there and being a person of leadership in the wellness world, I began to catch backlash from those who marveled at what I was doing WRONG in order to be ill, again. Ouch. Though none of these were dear, or close friends, I felt my little 13-year-old-self retract and recoil and sit down at mom’s table to wait it out.

I met my dear sweet Shiva and my other Tantric sisters, Coral, Mimi, and Jess, at the doorway of disaster in my adult life. These women have each proven and re-proven to be some of the most loyal and best friends I will ever have in my life; however, part of me STILL avoids their reaching out to hold my hand when they feel me falter.

Recently, I in a series of profoundly truthful phone calls with them, my methods of showing up to a friendship were called out into the open. It was as if that little girl needed to finally step up from the table and explain why she held my heart at bay.

She spoke. She squeaked at first. She hollered at last. She cried and let it all rip wide open, messy, and brilliantly broken. Tears poured out for all the moments when she felt betrayed and her fear of letting down another. So she explained she hid her loving levels of friendship out of sheer self-preservation.

Self-preservation, in the end, is not easy. It is simply just, self-preservation. It is lonely. It is lost. No matter what it looks like, does for a living or wears to work and no matter how sick or healthy it navigates the day to day.

So, with my sweet sisters’ love, trust, truth, and reflection, I am retooling how I show up as a friend. I am showing up to those I love with a new level of seeing and of listening and of reaching out and allowing myself to be reached INTO. It’s a new paradigm, a new shift and a very new me.

It still involves tea.

Today, when I sat with Stacey and it was EASY, I felt more me in me as a friend than ever before. True, she requires very little effort, for she is beautiful and easy; however, she helped affirm in her silent steady gaze as I spoke, that in REAL friendships, those that meet us in moments of need and those that meet us for a quick smile, are those that meet us with safety and trust. These dear friends allow us to really meet ourselves.

She just sent me a note reflecting on a great time spent connecting. She is so right.

“Some friends are silver and some friends are gold, but all friends are precious, this I am told….”

To friends that weather the weather,

Shan

Knot Relaxing…

I spent an amazing couple of weeks in Tamil Nadu, South East India, touring esoteric temples with amazing fellow students. Came home, sinus infection and bronchitis in tow; however, this “Hindi death rattle” allowed me to loaf on the couch for 5 days and heal. From there I donned a bikini and flew to 8 degrees latitude to teach and lead a yoga retreat on the edge of jungle and surf for seven days.

I left the Osa Peninsula, Costa Rica, relaxed, inspired, empowered, and reminded of the grace of stepping back and gaining perspective. A month in study and renewal, I felt like a million dollars and then, in the Houston airport, just boarding our last plane on the last leg towards home, I checked my email.

Oh, the horror, the HORROR!

In there was a chain of emails and some deeply stressful news.

“Please, turn off all electronic devices…” boomed over the airplane’s PA system. I contracted inside, felt a deep shrivel of every cell and typed a quick, though thoughtful response, that I would have to invoke the power of tomorrow and the strength of others to engage in this all too repetitive stress-bomb with me in the morning. I felt tight and powerless, as there was little I could affect and ease at all in a quick 30 second response before the flight attendant did her final sweep to make sure all cell phones and blackberries were indeed, off.

Bound up in knots, headphones blocking out chatter, I sat for an hour and a half.

To say that it was an uncomfortable flight is not giving it justice. It was amazing. I watched my cellular response to stress. I watched my patterns of dealing with stimuli of the lowest vibration rise and fall. I watched my mind create stories and mock conversations. Oh, I watched an entire argument go all the way DOWN. I saw my lowest self, seething. Yup, I saw ugly. It saw me. Thank goodess the lights in the cabin were low or EVERYONE would have seen it too.

Then, about halfway home at 30,000 feet, with nothing else to do, I chose. I chose to REALLY reflect on what I was choosing to feel.

The input was there, yes. It was THERE, front and center in my heart, in my mind and I was feeling it squeeze the delicious burrito I noshed while waiting to board into a little ball of immovable clay.

The REAL question was, not whether or not I needed to choose to acknowledge the input. The input simply was there, as input. The question was simple, HOW was I going to DEAL with this input and process this situation inside my body.

Life happens. It cannot ALWAYS be full of temples, lunches in Pondicherry, monkeys, surf a foot over head, or even the great grace of simply sipping perfect, steaming tea at sunrise. Life happens and it requires a pulse of self-recognition, choice and action.

I continued to sit, to watch the stress affect my alchemy and then I began to practice actively choosing. I chose me. I chose those I love. I chose the power of the practice of choice itself. Muscle by muscle I scanned and I remembered someone special to my soul, I aligned them to that muscle and I willed it to relax. I developed a practice of unfurling the internal binds: I practiced “knot relaxing!” It made me smile a little smile. Stress began to release its stronghold and anxiety began to subside. The burrito burped a sigh of relief.

The following morning, I awoke early to a cold, crisp Colorado sunrise. I sat down before my altar and reminded my body to remember the night before. It could choose to draw into the center and could ALSO choose to relax, to let go. Both avenues served in their non-tension creating amounts. I stepped from the meditation to my desk and set un-contracted actions into mindful motion. The stressful situation melted into an ease of all parties feeling heard, held and needs met.

I sat back, put my headphones back on, flipped the mp3 to my favorite groove, and remembered to choose ease within my skin, again and again, as I opened email after email. As I went through my day of re-entry, I chose to release the little ties that bind stressful stimuli to the internal spaces that try to hold it and control it. It worked… and I will try to work it forever. Who wants to actively HOLD stress!? Not me.

To the practice of “knot relaxing”!

Shan

I create art for art’s sake. Color and texture never ceases to astonish me. I am inspired by nature and my surroundings, sometimes even by music and dance. I love to create large, unique, asymmetrical pieces that catch your eye and your heart. Currently, my new love is funky pieces of metal- especially sterling and gold sheet hammered to perfection. When I’m not creating jewelry, i’m dancing, teaching yoga, making music, meditating or laughing. Thank you for taking part in my creations. http://swatijr8.wordpress.com/jewelry/

Boulder studio

Over the past month, pieces of a beautiful mural have been steadily put into place in the Boulder om time studio.  Have you had a chance to check it out yet?

About the artist

Scott Rodwin is a local green architect, sculptor and painter. His art combines the logic and structure of architecture with a dynamic flow and expression drawn from a deep background of yoga, dance and martial arts.

The new mural is designed to balance and contain of energy of the space, to

complete the full expression of the unique identity of the studio, and create a sacred mandala inspired by

yoga - North wall

his teacher Shiva Rea. On the right is a portal that contains the Sanskrit word for “Yoga.” On the left, “Om”. Above, there will be a circle to represent the mandala of the community. Don’t be afraid to touch the murals. They are meant to have your

om - South wall

feet, hands, backs and sweat on them. Like the temples of India, they become more mystical and charged as they are worn down by the people that interact with them.

Feel free to contact him:

Scott@rodwinarch.com

More of Scott’s architecture can be found at www.rodwinarch.com

There is a great saying by Rob Brezny the author of Pronoia; “The universe is conspiring to shower you with blessings”. Now, I hate to be the one to tell you this kids, perhaps bursting your pessimistic bubble of angst and worry and general distrust for the powers that unite us all, but Brezny’s statement is true. The universe is conspiring to shower you with blessings. I’m sure many of you have experienced periods of time when life flows with ease, serendipitous events occur frequently, and a general feeling of being “connected” is present. In those times it is easy to say “Yes, I am blessed. Yes, I am lucky.” But what of the times when there is less ease, less comfort, less apparent serendipity? Does that make us any less blessed? Does that mean we are less cared for by the “powers that be” than other times? Brezny’s statement acknowledges the obvious — the times when we feel the showers of the universe’s blessings tickling our hearts. He also nudges us to understand that even when the hard rain falls, that too is a shower of blessings.

To put the most yogic spin on this, if the universe is perpetualy preparing to rain blessings upon us, our job then is to look out for the signs of the impending storm (i.e. clouds, thunder, and lightning) so that we can co-participate and take full advantage of the nourishing, life-affirming, and blessing-filled lessons these creative storms offer. We do not have to be innocent bystanders. Rather we need to be storm chasers. We need to actively hunt the blessings inside these storms, allowing us to co-participate in this conspiracy theory.

In the times of ease and simplicity we laugh, rejoice, and give thanks, like when its sunny during a rain shower and we see a rainbow. In the times when we feel more contracted and cloaked, we must investigate the darkness with the light of inquisitivity and faith, essentially going into the eye of the storm by traveling through the intense darkness to experience the deepest quiet and luminous stillness.

Below is one example of how the universe conspired to shower me with blessings. Of course it took me a while to catch on to this plot (wink, wink) but once I did, the experience of the blessings from this particular storm healed one of the deepest wounds of my soul.

For much of my life, I had more than a love of exercise. I was addicted to running, biking, going to the gym, and even my yoga practice. Though the gross behaviors of my anorexia and bulimia had dissipated, I remained fixated on my diet and exercise.

Right before graduating college, I began experiencing severe and depilitating back pain. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t do yoga. I couldn’t lift weights. The only thing I could do was lay flat on my back. The more pain I experienced, the angrier and more frustrated I became with myself and my situation. After almost two months I visited a chiropractor (because yall know how much I love traditional doctors) at the advice of a dear friend and furtunatley found some quik relief that allowed me to return to my daily regime of vigorous physical exercise. Despite the chirporacters encouragment to slow down and rest allowing myslef to break a cycle of exercise clearly harmful to my health, I continued my overly athletic lifestyle.

In 20/20 hindsite it seems so obvious that I had clearly been given the chance to break my exercise addiction and release myself from obsessive behaviors. At the time though, I was so enclosed within the the pigeon-hole existence I had created that I disregarded this potential transformation.

A few months later I was in a severe car accident leaving me with multiple broken bones throughout my upper body. Under the guidance of my chiropracter and some other alternative therapies, I learned that healing is never linear. It is instead more like a spiral. We often return to events that appear similar to those in the past, but as healing progresses and one ascends towards greater wellbeing, the themes may seem recurring but the lessons gleaned on each wrung are new. During this time, I tapped a deep wellspring overflowing with a sense of gratitude for life that began softening the refracted perceptions of myself. Even with this broader perception though, I remained trapped inside the obsession of perfection and once more regressed into old habits.

Two years later worsening back pain reminiscent of that which I had experienced before resurfaced. The medical treatment I sought (yes there are times one should see a medical doctor!) discovered two stress fractures in my spine. One of these was new while the other had allready healed, thus explaining the pain I had previously. Reminded of my chiropracter‘s lesson of the spiral like nature of the healing process, I vowed to approach this injury as an opportunity for transformation. Instead of focusing on my physical limitations, I sought out the lessons involving reccurring injury. I knew that if I did not ultimately change my obsessive exercise habits, I would continue to injur myself. I stopped exercising and gave my body time to rest. I spent time with family and friends. I allowed others to help me. I embraced the opportunity to deepen my meditation practice. I made room for sorrow as I accepted my physical limitations. I cried. I accepted that I may never have a perfect body. Instead of anger, and disregard, I approached my healing with a deep desire to not only heal my bones but to heal my heart.

When you believe the universe is conspiring to shower you with blessings it does not irradicate the possibility of physical and emotional pain and suffering and it doesn’t prevent times of sorrow and saddness. In fact, not only does such a saying leave room for all kinds of experiences (even the uncomfortable ones), it upholds the possibility that within those darkest moments of our lives (that is the conspiracy to which Brezny refers) is where we find the sweetest nectar — the blessings. To this end I pose several questions lovely ones…

Can you see how the universe is conspiring to shower you (yes YOU) with blessings? Next time its raining and you want to grab that umbrella to shield your preciously delicate heart and psyche, can you instead go out and stand in the rain? Can you let the blessings of the universe rain on you? Are you willing to be a spiritual storm chaser?

Yoga on Skis

I’m not an expert skier or a master at yoga but I love them both. I cherish time without evaluation or competition - just wanting a small wisp of peace. My yoga mat becomes my mountain, my turns carving a familiar flow. It is yoga on skis, when one tries not to think about the last turn or get too far in to the next - or the present turn loses its grace and beauty. Both the cold and swooshing through powder keeps me mindful of the moment. Trying to stay warm and upright is life at its simplest. Like yoga class I am alone but in community as each of us is absorbed in similar movements but simultaneously individual expression.

The clarity of blue sky against white snow is similar to the vivid colors of the outdoors after a yoga class. There is that initial moment of coming out in to the sunlight when the eyes themselves hold a brightness that christens. We’ve gained a precious “insight” that makes outside “sights” glisten like new fallen snow on a ski mountain.

My chairlift ride is time to sit. Skiing alone allows one a quiet space to meditate, the only interruption being the rubbing of my hands together for warmth or the swinging of skis - comforting cold toes. I smile at lift attendants without conversation like the knowing smiles passed between students in class.

My clothing is comfortable and simple, play clothes stitched for warmth and flexibility versus fashion. Ski slopes have no mirrors and although mirrors decorate my studio, I choose not to look. My reflection is peacefully internal whether on mat or mountain.

A morning on the mountain, like a morning practice is never the same. Snow, terrain and temperature become my teachers guiding me in my movements. I reach for a balance that makes me feel both like an imperfect “dancer” and a “warrior” finding victory in the mere effort. Time goes quickly as in class where it can feel like one continuous movement - the present has no beginning or end.

I feel tired, yet rested - an exhaustion that feels exhilarating. It is the beauty of expending energy to receive back even more.

There is no savasana to end my moment on the mountain, just a winding down Boulder Canyon toward home. And perhaps it is a reminder that yoga class is never really over, just a flow from one mountain in life to the next - appreciating when the colors all come together to truly sparkle.