I had the immense pleasure of doing a SUP-camping trip with my daughter a couple of weeks ago. It’s been a long while since i’ve been on big water, let alone on a board loaded with camping gear! I’ve been active my whole life – hiking, biking, skiing, running for a bit… There’s a difference between saying: ‘I’m a skier.’ and, ‘I ski.’ If you know, you know – one dabbles as a hobby and one contains a sense of being or identity. Funnily enough, I just realized, I don’t think i’ve ever called myself a yogi (ha!?). But i do say: ‘I’m a paddler.’ For better or worse, if my life lived closer to big water, i’d be on it most days.
Paddling and what it taught me about my asana practice was one of the things that had me changing how i move on my mat, because paddling insisted I move differently off of my mat. How I practice now made getting back on a loaded board after a long hiatus a joy. Carrying the gear. Inflating the board. Paddling loaded in wind. Moving on the board. Paddling. There isn’t anything about it that happens in alignment. Or without the earth moving underneath!
My practice made me feel… Strong. Confident. Somewhat agile;). Focussed. And calm on the board.
Because my deal now, is to playfully move in all sorts of ways with a curious yoga-mindset of ‘what ifs’ that may or may not have anything to do with the shape of an asana. What if we intentionally throw ourselves off balance? What really happens when we move our knee past our ankle? What if your own angle of success looks completely different than a plate # in LoY – (and you’re ok with that)?
What if your practice is a remembering of what it’s always meant to have been…? Making life experiences off the mat more fun, open and accessible? And, when life experiences throw us off balance, as they will – better able to adapt?
Curious, playful exploration that brings you home to your body in a way that has you moving with more control on the mat and greater freedom out in the wild. No matter whether you’re dabbling in or identifying with whatever brings you joy.
My annual summer workshop is confirmed as a go. We’re back in the Soar Studio space this summer, so there’s still room for some last-minute signups. The complimentary hike this year will be in Fernie Provincial Park. Easy, shaded hiking where the creeks are still running and there’s a wee view point to stop for a snack.
Here’s this year’s timing:
Friday Hike: 10:30am Yoga: 5:30 – 8pm
Saturday 10am-1pm & 3-5:30pm
Sunday 10am-1pm
Feel free to share – or email me at: samlloyd.yoga@samlloydyoga to sign up! Be Curious. Come Play. Love, Sam
Time keeps on keeping on… I’m settling deeper into the mountains – working full time, studying part-time, teaching online most days, volunteering and living a life with all the ups and downs that living a life entails. I’m not showing up in this space to write so much anymore because the emails that go out with my Short & Sweet Sessions fulfil the part of me that craves to write down words, thoughts & ideas. This space is valuable to me because it keeps somewhat of a record of where I am at a particular time, how i’ve changed – or haven’t. Undeniably I, like time, keep on keeping on – these days with curious questions that don’t need answers. And, delightfully, with folks who are also curious and crave spaces to ask their own questions without the hierarchy of seeking an answer from me.
My job is to be your cheerleader. To offer tools for you to pick up and try in the sanctuary of your own space, or space held by me that holds no judgement. Tools that are practical for the beginner and nuanced-enough for the experienced to make sharing space together worth your time and effort. Because putting in the time is always worth the effort when it works for you.
This is a glimpse of some of the feedback from last year’s workshop: ‘D and I wanted to thank you for the great weekend of practice and play…Coming from very different places, we were both highly engaged, everything was accessible (you quickly reassured us that we could do as we needed for our needs) and we came out with so much to think about and bring into our practice.’ P.R.
Playful. Curious. Relevant. Simple. Life’s complicated enough – sometimes it’s worth the effort to take a time out – especially if it includes putting some time in for yourself.
Our Yearly Summer Workshop is like that. Gift yourself some time moving in the mountains, on the mat, with community. It’s a beautiful thing!
If you have questions, or to register (Summer is busy in Fernie…best book accommodations asap), email me at samlloyd.yoga@gmail.com
I am so delighted to be living, working, playing and … finally! offering another in-person workshop on the unceded traditional homelands of the Ktuxana Peoples (known as Fernie) again this summer.
New, advanced, rusty …. this workshop is for anyone who wants to explore their practice through the lens of playful curiosity. Weaving movement, breath and philosophy into three days of yoga in the beautiful East Kootenays – Summer just got better!
INVESTMENT: $220. $50 non-refundable deposit to register. Remainder to be paid in full by July 1 (increments of choice welcome!)
REGISTRATION: Please email your name, how you found out about the workshop and any questions to: samlloyd.yoga@gmail.com to confirm your spot along with a $50 e-transfer to the same email. Alternate forms of payment are also welcome. Please email me to arrange payment if e-transfer isn’t your thing.
I wrote the post ‘A Polar Bear in the Jungle’ a long time ago and thought i had published it, but there it was in my drafts! Huh? I taught the workshop that prompted that post and was looking for it because i had the same feedback after teaching that workshop as i did with a class last night – which prompted today’s post. Since writing about the jungle over a year ago, i’ve gone down even more movement, breath and trauma-based trainings, and the post i was writing today (keep reading 😉 is simply a continuation of what’s always been. So, without further ado, here’s that original post from June, 2021:
A Polar Bear in the Jungle This week at work I commented that I love when something is so obvious(!) In a workshop along time ago, Judith Lasater said: “everything is subtle until it’s obvious” Life’s like that and sometimes the journey takes awhile, but then you turn a corner and … Bam! Obvious happens.
I’ve been on this yoga path for a long time. Long enough to have gone deep and come up gasping. Tread the calm and survive the turmoil. I’ve struggled in one way or another for most of the journey. Questioned. Tested. Volunteered. Worked. Went. Took. Taught. Assessed. Passed. Advanced. And trained. Through it all, I did what was required. What was expected. What so many before and after me had done, succeeded and thrived at. I dove in and tried my best. Truly. At times I loved it – especially the connection with some of the folks and experiences that only true immersion into something can offer.
Yet…
I knew something wasn’t working for me. Earlier this year another obvious thing was pointed out to me: when your inner world doesn’t jive with your outer world, things come out sideways. My yoga life was like this for me – had been for a long time. The lack of jive for me was real.
I’ve been alluding that the ‘problem’ was the outer world. I’d been trying to articulate it, but couldn’t, because I knew that it wasn’t quite right. So when this story wound around the corner as it always does for me – everything became clearly…obvious.
In anticipation of a workshop that I’m teaching in the hometown of the yoga community i grew up in I’ve been considering the delivery of what I now have to offer. Mostly because of experience (life and training) outside of my yoga lineage, my teaching has evolved since the days when I attended workshops, taught classes, and trained and assessed teachers in that community. When I go back, it is important to me that I stay true to myself and be able to honour the deep roots of that community and all that it offered me, but my inner world of now was not jiving with my outer world of then and I knew my delivery was going to suffer until I could reconcile myself in some way. As I was vacuuming this morning, this is the story that wound its way into my periphery.
I have, for the most part, been a polar bear in the jungle. Somehow (that’s a therapy session or 2;) my iceberg drifted far from its home and I ended up in the jungle. A beautiful, colourful, lively environment where everything seemed to thrive. As i landed in the jungle, it’s not like I was a fish trying to set up shop in a tree – I had the ability to walk on land, eat what it offered, make my way to the water, appreciate all the Others who made their home and thrived there. It was a viable possibility that I could make a life in that jungle. Except I was too hot to move, hated being a vegetarian, couldn’t hunt because i stuck out, and no matter how much I tried to fit in and learn the language, I often felt alone in the jungle. Because of that, I started to blame the jungle for my situation. But – here’s the obvious part in case I have to point it out… the jungle can’t help being a jungle any more than I can help being a polar bear. It’s never been the jungle’s fault that it’s a jungle, or that I ended up in it. It’s not my fault that I’m not a scarlet macaw that can take flight. We both did our best to make it work and there were enough times of solace and joy to keep trying – but the jive was never really in sync for me. Sometimes (often?) it’s the friction that has the best lessons. And this lesson took me 20+ years to learn: The beautiful jungle will carry on – thrive, grow and evolve as it has. There’s no need to resent the jungle or the macaw that lives there. Or myself for being a polar bear.
I feel lighter and more clear than I ever have, because when I realized the friction I’ve been feeling was of my own making (sorry jungle) it simply dissolved. I’ve been trying to blame something fundamentally beautiful (me/the system) for how I feel. The time it took to get me to the obvious moment, makes the softening that much sweeter.
For the 1st time in a long time I really want to teach and as I root to myself those who want to play with me on the currents of curiosity and possibilities are appearing.
Thank you Jungle, for everything, it’s truly has been great. The friction was clouding my appreciation of all you have to offer, but now I can say I’m so looking forward to the visit! See you soon! 😘
Then – in the ‘jungle’ where the ‘right’ shape is important.
A lot has happened in the year since i wrote that post. In addition to what i’ve explored in a yoga context, the recent circumstances of my life have been full of rich opportunities in which to practice the yoga of pivoting and adapting to weather storms of uncertainty. Because of all of that i’ve evolved, as has my practice, so how can what i offer not be Different?
The following is the post that i was writing today when i went searching for the polar bear. I’m so very grateful for this place that i’m at now, where curiosity trumps the need to be ‘right’….
DIFFERENT
I taught a Senior Teachers Showcase class for the Yoga Association of Alberta (YAA) last night. It’s a great series for a super organization that’s supported yoga and the training of teachers in Alberta for many years. One of the things i like about the organization is that it maintains high standards that are inclusive rather than requiring a high buy-in that creates exclusivity. (Which can be the case for traditional schools that recognize and hold validity within only the structure of their institutions.) The inclusive nature of the YAA exposes its members to many different forms and expressions of yoga so that each person can determine what fits them best, which is something i very much appreciate.
Even at that i still received comments after class, as i did with that workshop so long ago, saying that what i offer is ‘different’ (i get that a lot and i like it ;). Although it may look and feel ‘different’, it can be nothing other than yoga because pretty much that’s the only lens i live my life through, move through, observe through, play in, create in… So, when i ended class with the following poem I felt very much like i was (am) speaking to the beauty of where i see yoga heading today and the direction i want to go.
The Place Where We Are Right
by Yehuda Amichai
From the place where we are right Flowers will never grow In the spring.
The place where we are right Is hard and trampled Like a yard.
But doubts and loves Dig up the world Like a mole, a plow. And a whisper will be heard in the place Where the ruined House once stood.
I have both doubts and big love for all things yoga (i think both are equally important). They’ve kept me coming back to the mat in a way that has dug up my world while at the same time creating a safe place for me to be ‘homeless’. I am so very glad to be hearing the whispers and following them to a ‘different’ way of being that thrives on curiosity, exploration, acceptance and patience. A way of being that values mistakes, wobbles, detours, and questions without answers. It’s the safest place for my nervous system to deal with whatever life (or the mat) brings. And that, my friends, brings me great joy – even in the tough times. As a dear teacher said to me not long ago: “Isn’t that what it’s all about?”
Now – the middle of a beautifully-messy practice.
If you need a better handstand, i’m probably not your girl.
If you’re looking to pass your next assessment, don’t call me.
If you want to play in a space that makes room for a beautiful mess and a softness that says, “hey, nervous-system, you can stand down for the next little bit”, reach out. If i’m not the one that jives with you, maybe i can recommend someone who does.
One week from today i’ll be back in Canada after being away for just over 6 months in Costa Rica. My partner and i decided to come to the tropics to see if a different setting could offer us the chance to explore a less-stressful life than we had in Canada.
The plan is that if all is well in Canada, we’ll head back to Costa Rica after a brief visit to finish out the 2 years we’ve given ourselves to see how things work out. Lately i’ve been worried about coming back down because, frankly, i’m getting bored. In the beginning we were busy getting established and exploring different parts of the country – which didn’t lessen the stress, but kept us busy and working towards common goals. Then we had some health challenges that kept us either in bed or focussed on figuring out what to do to get out of bed. Not necessarily the fun we were hoping for but, again, it kept us busy and moving forward – or at least upright lol.
When my kids were little and they complained about being bored i would tell them that only boring people get bored. It was the best motivator i ever used – they both knew then and now how to self-entertain and motivate. We’ve landed in a remote part of Costa Rica that requires that ability and we’ve finally been in one place long enough to feel that sense of ‘sameness’ coming on. A call to the not-boring me is sounding!
I know that for some, this life of no obligations or schedules would be the ultimate freedom, but for many – by all reports – who leave Costa Rica or a place/life like this in under 2 years, it’s often because of the feeling of a lack of purpose. I can absolutely see how that’s a thing, because there’s a twinge of it creeping into my awareness. So yesterday i reminded myself of what’s worked for me in the past when this feeling has crept up. It’s the exact opposite of what works for my partner. We’ve been doing the ‘teamwork makes the dream work’ thing pretty well lately, so i’ve let myself start to depend on the partnership to fill me up, but that simply isn’t going to work. It’s not fair to either of us to ask for the relationship to do what i need to do for myself.
What works best for me is a schedule that keeps me on track on the days when something else doesn’t need to happen. I’m writing this because i want to, but also because i’ve put it in the schedule…Ha, go figure – tada! A sense of purpose leads to a sense of accomplishment which leads to me feeling better about myself which leads to me being a happier team player which leads to me being excited about coming back to Costa Rica.
Yay!
It took me getting bored to turn to the tried and true strategies that i know work for me. I moved in with my mom for the last 6 months of her life so that my sister and i could be her full time caregivers. We were losing ourselves to the process and both of us were exhausted on all levels. One day my sister came into the house with a schedule that gave us both the time we needed away from the work to be the best team players we could be. Sometimes the schedule is about getting things done, that schedule made time for doing whatever we wanted. I’m forever grateful. It was the memory of that schedule that made me excited yesterday. It gave me hope that i will have that sense of purpose and accomplishment on this long stretch of sleepy beach that offers just that to anyone who’s motivated to do whatever it is they set their minds to.
For some (like my partner) a schedule seems like prison. Expecting him to follow one is not helpful! I know that what works for me doesn’t for everyone. But something does for everyone. Part of our life’s work, i think, is figuring that out. And being grateful for the remembering when we’ve forgotten.
Words… as i wrote the title for this entry that’s been so long in the making, the word Kind was intentional, but not in the way it struck me when i re-read it.
The kind of teacher i want to be is – Kind.
The making of a yoga teacher takes all sorts of differing paths. For me, it started as a 200hr Hatha training over 18 months. During that training, the majority of the teachers were either Iyengar, or Iyengar-influenced. The practicality of Iyengar yoga appealed to me. I’m about as far from an esoteric yoga teacher as you can get. A friend calls me pragmatic. As much as i don’t want to be that person, i simply am… as is Iyengar yoga. Sensible and practical. And so, over the next 18 years, i climbed the proverbial Iyengar ladder. 6 levels of assessments. 4 trips to India. Training teachers. Assessing candidates. It’s a journey unlike anything else i’ve ever done.
The problem with pragmatism is it can be a blinders-on way of being that has the potential to take a serious detour into permissive discipline. The kind of discipline that, for me, began to erode the connection to my inner voice, my intuition.
The unmaking of a yoga teacher also takes on all sorts of differing paths. For me it started in savasana. I was visiting a well-known therapeutic Iyengar centre for a week of training when the unrelenting voice in my head during every savasana said: “i don’t want to do this anymore”, “i don’t want to be here”. I had already begun to unravel myself from assessing as i didn’t really believe in the process, but i was also in the middle of formulating a teacher training program for the studio i was teaching at at the time. The easier, safer, expected route would have been to shut down that inner voice and simply continue on. Even though i struggled for some time (still am, truth be told) i knew that i could no longer over-ride the whisper that was getting louder with each savasana. I would not do what was expected – by everyone inside of the Institute of Iyengar yoga and by everyone who had sacrificed A LOT (family, time, finances) in my ongoing pursuit of being an Iyengar yoga teacher: Get over it, and get on with it. Keep going – everyone has doubts.
The unravelling that had already begun took on a journey of its own…
A move to a different city with no Iyengar studio where i took classes of other yoga disciplines and met fabulous, sincere teachers who were adept and masterful in their craft, not because of a grading system, but because they chose to deeply study what called to them. I began to appreciate my training and use it in a different way as i could go to any class and if not feel at home, at least not feel lost. I took a trauma-informed teacher training that had me look deeply at my privilege. I went down breath, spine, functional-range and pain rabbit holes. While i could afford to, i saw a counsellor who Kindly helped to unlocked some doors that helped me immensely.
In savasana today i had a flashback of the last time i was in India. It was in the evening at the end of a hot and muggy pranayama class taught by Geeta. People were fidgety. I was as well, but i knew not to move. There were bugs, i know because i clandestinely opened my eyes and was blowing softly at them so as not to draw attention to myself. Geeta finally announced to stop fidgeting and someone (who obviously didn’t know any better) said there were bugs. We were told that since the fans were going that could not be – we simply weren’t disciplined enough to do savasana properly. I had that flashback, because i moved to sweep a bug off of me during savasana today. Eventually i opened my eyes and simply watched the clouds and birds drift by. Maybe, according to some, it wasn’t proper, but it was mine and it was delightful.
Fidgety savasan sped up 2.5X
The re-shaping of a yoga teacher is a continuous one. Truly an evolution for me – based on a new-found love for my practice. The physical part is more fun for me than it’s ever been. Mostly because i’ve given myself permission to let go of all of the ‘shoulds’ i’ve been taught. I’m not doing inversions at the moment. I do breath work, but no longer have a formal pranayama practice. I incorporate CARS and FRC into my physical practice. I show up and see what what happens. I read books/articles based more on science than on philosophy, and i listen to my inner voice – on and off the mat. Mostly, i give myself permission to fuck up, never mind not be perfect.
If you fidget in savasana. Or don’t know the proper sequence of things. If you skip a day (or 10). Give yourself a break. Be Kind to yourself -it does wonders. Find a teacher who knows their shit for sure. (One who knows their shit stinks too 😉 But most of all, find a teacher who is kind.
I want to be the Kind of teacher who makes your nervous system feel safe and leaves you wanting to do more – for yourself, not for me. It’s the Kind thing to do.
Standing on the very edge of something safe and solid while contemplating the next step can stir up many things… excitement, adrenaline, fear, anticipation.
Today as I stood on the edge of the peer, the metaphor it represented of my life right now was not lost on me.The butterflies in my stomach were quietly considering ‘what if?’Not what if I step off the edge, but what if I step into this life?Fully.
The move to this wonderland was prompted by many things. Things that cautioned me to take my time, see what comes, be patient, have no expectations, make no commitments…today though, it felt like I was ready to take that next step.Not to jump, but to drop anchor.Sometimes just as scary.
I am on the verge. Merriam-Webster.com: Definition of on the verge of : at the point when (something) is about to happen or is very likely to happen
My butterflies are fluttering a soft encouragement. ‘We like it here.’ They say.
Life is full of intentional irony… it also wasn’t lost on me that the stick I had been watching for (it’s different than looking) was waiting for me on my way back from the edge of the peer.I wouldn’t have seen it if I hadn’t walked to the edge. Nor if I hadn’t turned back.
The butterflies settled then, knowing the wonders that brought me to this wonderland wouldn’t be forgotten or made less by choosing to drop anchor here.Even in the settling, great change comes.
I wrote about this phenomenon when I experienced it in Fernie. How significant it was when I recognized it: The saying of my name by a new person that has no agenda other than a willingness to spend some time with me.
Maria reached out and offered to take me on a ‘local’s’ hike. At some point near the top she said my name. ‘Sam’ Perhaps if you’ve never moved to a place that has little social connection, or anchors of an instant community (work, kids in school, family, etc), or come to a profound life experience that changes your close personal dynamics (divorce perhaps) this may seem insignificant.
It’s not.
I’ve often called Fernie a place of orphans. I think Squamish is a bit like that. Transience has its own pitfalls to be sure, but the desire to reach out and build community creates an environment that offers the experience of hearing your own name in a new and exciting way.
Today was my Naming Day. I didn’t know I was quietly waiting for it – but my heart certainly smiled in recognition of the name that carries it’s home.
There is a practice I do (Fr Joe calls it a ‘dis-possession’ prayer)
“You (insert job, partner, kids, illness, and finally……… name) are precious to me but not my life
I have a life to live and a destiny to meet that is separate from you
Thank you for coming into my life and
GOOD BYE.”
It’s not my name that I say goodby to, rather the ties that my ego binds to it. And that’s what makes hearing my name in this way so significant. It was untethered and recognized me without labels.
I just finished watching a clip the Genovese boys put out on Pinkbike.com. (Google it, I have the free WordPress and can’t link) I see posts on Instagram every day from my son, Dylan, Andrea, FAR and friends that blow me away. I feel the Kootenay mountains that nurture such passion pull at me when I witness the incredible feats these people accomplish. I just passed my Senior Intermedaite 1 Iyengar assessment. It is a big deal, to be sure – one that I am proud of because of all of the years of work I’ve put in to get this far, yet it pales in comparison to what I feel when I witness what I consider to be these young people’s yoga.
Elizabeth Gilbert, author of ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ has a great essay about vocations (google ‘Elizabeth Gilbert vocation’ it comes up 1 St thing). In it she compares the difference between hobby, job, career and vocation. What is a hobby for many people becomes a vocation for a few. Skiing, biking…yoga. A type of calling that cannot be denied. The kind of calling that spurs part time jobs, relocations, budgets and sometimes a lack of understanding at the sacrifice people are willing to make when their heart is being drawn.
When we see the Instagram photo or the video clip, we see the result of passion that can turn into vocation. It’s that simple. What we don’t see are the 10,000+ hours that were willingly put in because of the passion that make the shot what it is. These kids aren’t ‘lucky’. They practice and have ‘tapas’ (burning discipline) like I’ve never had. They hurt. They fail. They lose. They get frustrated. Yet, I imagine that they can’t imagine a life not doing what they love. Each in their own way.
And, I am speculating – but like recognizes like – I would say that what keeps them doing what they do, is the same thing that gets me on my mat. That connection to the moment that feels like magic. Where you are so consumed in what is happening that there is no place in your mind for the to-do list, the grevance, the pain, the wants, memories or plans. Josh has said the perfect run is the one when he’s not thinking. When I ski, it’s all I do…not my vocation! But when I’m on my mat and in my groove – I can say the same thing. I’m experiencing. I’m fully and completely aware of what’s happening in my body. I’m unaware of time passing and yet I am absolutely present. It’s what yoga means to me. It doesn’t require a mat, or skis, a bike or the Kootenay mountians (although they help!!!), it requires passion. And for each of us it’s different. Sometimes it pays the bills. Sometimes it is a bill. Sometimes it’s academics or a trade. A canvas, or an instrument. A Harley or a horse. Whatever it is, it’s the calling to a heart that stops time and thought. Challenges growth and demands competency. And, especially, creates connections that foster support when you’re willing to step into what is drawing you.
i didn’t ask permission. And I can’t imagine they’ll ever read this, but I hope they are ok with me posting some pics of what inspires my yoga. From right, clockwise: Josh, Paul, Dylan, Andrea
Sam Lloyd Yoga 