Posts Tagged 'Yoga'

Tree stumps and emotional concussion

Here I am doing some sort of crazy balance on a tree stump. Why? Because I can and because I’m damn strong and it’s a whole lot of fun.

That stump – well it feels like it resembles my old life. The one I used to have before the universe decided that I needed some fucking big challenges and some real time growth.

Thanks universe.

It came along, pushed me out of the tree and chopped the whole bloody thing down, right down to the stump. Off went all the branches of my life. Left me with a sorry seeping stump and no place to call home. So, after a bit of confusion, (I like to call it emotional concussion), I found a new tree. Took me a while but I found a new tree and that emotional concussion is wearing off.

But this story is not about a tree or a stump. It’s about this thing that happened right about the time I fell out of the tree.

I had a friend. A best friend. We met in 1999 and for 17 years we were partners in crime. She was my person. I didn’t make a decision without speaking to her. She knew my moods, my thoughts, my troubles and my joys. This friendship saw us through some tough times and we shared all the stories that ran deeply through our intertwined lives. She was the family I didn’t have. The sister I always wanted. She was my home from home and my first port of call. I would always hold space for her no matter what load I might be carrying. If she called I put down my shit and listened. She had a big place in my heart and I would step up in an instant if she needed me.

Then I fell out of my tree. Actually I didn’t fall out of my tree I was pushed but that’s for another day. Where do you go when you are bruised and broken? You go home. Ahh yes, but I had just fallen from there so I went to my second home. To the home of my best friend.

I had a life to rebuild, a new home to find and an urgent need to find a way to support myself. I was drowning in a shit storm so I wept for a while then I started to put myself back together. The logistics of which can not be underestimated. This was a herculean task. Whenever I could catch my breath, and as I had always done, I would knock at her door to connect and hear her stories. To hold space for each other as we had done for seventeen years……but she stopped answering.

She stopped answering my calls.

She stopped replying to my messages.

Then one day I saw that she had unfriended me on Facebook. Good god I did not see that coming.

I never even got to tell her why I fell from the tree.

The wounds from that fall run deep and will take a lifetime of healing, and my person……she doesn’t even know why.

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It’s been a while…

 

I’ve been absent from this space and I have missed it. Not an intentional break. Not a holiday. Not a ‘working on myself’ break. No sabbatical for me.  I have been absent because life seriously got in the way. Seriously fucking in the way and the words had to play second place.  Something had to give.

There has been so much I have wanted to say and I have sorely missed this space. I have missed the pouring of words through me onto this page.  I had so much I wanted to write about.  So much that needed to be curved and moulded into words… but much of it wasn’t my story to tell so I left the pages vacant and wondering.  What is mine to tell simply cannot be told yet. It needs to shift and simmer in me a while yet.  It needs to soften so that my words do not pour out in an angry wounding diatribe.

2018 has been a year that has hit me and those close to me hard.  Really hard.  It didn’t shape up the way I would have liked.  The story, if could have written it, would have been different.  It would be filled with blossoms, sweet summer nights and words from a novel fit for the romance shelves.   I certainly wouldn’t be watching my daughter traverse the time and space of unimaginable grief and immense loss.  As graciously and bravely as she is doing it, it is not how I would have written the story.  I would not have held her, broken and weeping, as she said goodbye to her beloved Matthew moments before they turned off his life support.  No. That is most definetly not how this story was supposed to go. It is not how anyone’s story is supposed to go.

I would not be swimming against the anger and grief of my own story.  The words that bubble up for that may possibly never be written here.  There is a saying ‘the thing you are most afraid to write, write that’.  One day maybe, one day.

Through it all I have taught, run the business and done human things.  The stuff that just is and the stuff that just has to be done.  We do that.  We make our beds and show up the best we can.  We clothe ourselves, conceal our broken parts and go out into the day with the bravest heart we can find.

I did my best to get on my mat every day.  Moving my body so that the energy of trauma and sadness can move through me and not make a home where it is not welcome.

The ability to show up to teach even when it felt impossible has kept me grounded and humble.  The human connection that comes at times of loss and grief never failed to move me and I am grateful to each and every one of you.  My close friends listened (and continue to do so) endlessly to my stories.  They called and they showed up.  They bought me coffee.  They drove me where I needed to be at silly hours of the night.  They let me overstay my welcome and checked up on me when I went quiet.  These are really good humans.

I will be eternally thankful for these good humans.

 

 

 

 

On food and how I move.

I promised this some time back but – well you know – life kind of gets in the way of life sometimes.  Curve balls, commitments and chores seep their way into all the spaces of your day and all those things that are not so important on your todo list take a bit of a backseat.  This blog has had to take a bit of a demotion to my not so important list for a while but hopefully a revival is on the cards

This particular post has taken it’s sweet time in coming to fruition.  Some things just have to mull about in the brain for a while before they are ready to be committed to the big wide world.  Prompts and prods over the last week or so have given me the push to put pen to paper (which isn’t really the case but you know what I mean)

I regularly, and by that I mean probably twice or more a week, get asked what I eat and what I do to look the way I do at 53.  Well thank heavens these poor people only see me prepped and ready for class in yoga pants that I swear put everything back in it’s proper place.  However, they all want to know so I’m going to tell them and anyone else who is listening.

Firstly I move. A lot!  I do yoga 7 days a week.  I teach classes 6 days a week and you will find me on my mat doing my own practice every day unless work gets in the way.  If that happens I just do as much of my class as I can.  Over the week this probably works out to between 1 and 3 hours per day.  Not every day is three hours but an hour is my minimum.  Personal practices vary between vigorous (inversions and arm balances ) and just rolling about on my mat stretching this way and that depending on current curve balls and state of being.  I teach vinyasa and when it comes to yoga you don’t get much more vigorous than that and classes will leave you in a happy sweaty heap.

So I’m strong and flexible but mostly I get on my mat because it fixes my head and my heart…. both of which need a whole lot of fixing.

What do I eat….

A lot of potatoes….and pasta.

When I say a lot of potatoes I really mean it.  Potatoes – good old fashioned Irish white potatoes (Irish on my father’s side) are the foundation of my diet.  I love them baked, wedged, roasted, chipped – just not mashed! I will cook three or four medium sized potatoes just for myself at most meals. It is possible I will come back as a potato in my next life!

At home I am predominantly plant based.  This means that 80% of what I eat comes from plants).  I don’t eat meat at all and don’t have any dairy at home.  Eating out I’m a little more relaxed and don’t cry if there is some feta in my salad.  I do have one general rule.  If it needs to tell me on a packet what it is I don’t eat it.  I eat real food. A carrot is a carrot and it doesn’t need a label.  Processed food is a no no!

So average day – actually every day – starts with sugar and wheat free muesli with added seeds, raisins and rice milk.

Then around 9 (I might have a small coffee addiction) I’ll often be found having a croissant at VovoTelo to keep me going.

Lunch time varies depending on classes and meetings.  Favourites are pasta with mushrooms and tomatoes from VovoTelo or a baked potato and curried lentils from Nouriti.

I often get in late from class so tend to make things that are either quick or can last a few days.  Three bean chilli is one of my go to meals.  I’ll have this with two or more baked potatoes or rice.  Sometimes I’ll make a quick pasta dish with tomatoes, peppers or mushrooms depending on what I have in the house. Always plenty of onion and garlic and a healthy helping of pesto.  Lentil stuffed peppers with wedges is another firm favourite but my all time best meal is an abundantly large tray of roasted vegetables (including lots of potatoes of course).  Best things to add to this are brussels spouts, carrots, beetroot, cauliflower, broccoli and sometimes I’ll throw in a can of lentils at the end.  Saturday evenings are made for trays of roasted veg and Netflix!  I have a few apps on my phone for recipes.  Forks over Knives and Yummly having proved themselves to be the best for me.

….I love coffee, matcha green tea and try to drink plenty of water.

….I drink alcohol rarely, if ever, and don’t drink any soft drinks.  Water is my soft drink.

….I don’t have a sweet tooth.  Dislike cakes of any sort and ice cream but you might find the odd ginger biscuit in my house.

At the end of the day you have to put good stuff into your mouth and you have to move your body. Potatoes and other carbs are not your enemy.  Being lazy is your enemy and eating rubbish is your enemy.

Get moving and eat real food people…oh and meditate!

 

I’m not where I want to be…

I’m not where I want to be.  I’m far from where I want to be, but I’m closer than I was.

Two years ago I was on my knees.  Broken by the end of a twenty seven year marriage and just months later the death of my mother.  I had no idea how I was going to survive let alone live.  I’m not there anymore.  I’m so not there anymore.  I’m putting myself back together bit by bit.  When things get broken and put back together they don’t look the same.  The japanese call it kintsugi.  The art of fixing something that is broken and making it more beautiful. I’m putting myself back together and hopefully the new me will be better…..but I’m still a little bit broken.  Fixing some things takes time.

Lots of time.

In the meantime I am perfectly capable of constantly beating myself up about not being where I want to be.  Not being good enough.  Not achieving enough.  I know we all do it but I am the master of it.  Constant tirades at the mirror.  Moments of pure diatribe when I am driving.  Telling myself I should be better. I should be stronger, fitter, more capable, more successful. I should be where I want to be….but I’m not.  It’s too soon.

So in a quiet moment this weekend I wrote down all the things that I have achieved in the last two years.

I did 500 hours of yoga teacher training and passed with distinction

I started teaching yoga daily and in doing so making a difference to so many lives

I did counsellor training and passed with distinction

I did my meditation teacher training and passed with distinction

I started an online business learning about packaging, trademarks and countless other things

I started importing for my online business

I helped write a book that is about to go to print

I wrote my own book – well the first 60,000 words of it.  It still a work in progress.

I expanded my photography business

I went on a blind date

I buried my mother and dealt with her estate

I stopped watching tv

I increased my exercise and changed my diet

On a personal level I moved house, bought a car, opened bank accounts, opened cell phone accounts and learnt to do life on my own

I’m learning to deal with my anger

I’m learning to soften

With the support of some incredible friends I survived

I survived and I grew and I got to know all the broken parts of myself.

I’m not done putting myself back together.  I’m still hurting.  I’m still a little bit broken.

I’m not where I want to be but I’m closer than I was.

Life will break you..but..

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In all my work I am incredibly privileged.  I get to meet and spend time with an amazing variety of people.   With my camera in hand I meet newborn babies and happy people.  I get to photograph people doing what they love with the people they love.  There is often laughter,  there is often joy and I get to capture it and give it back to them so that they can look at it forever.  Life however is not just filled with happy smiling moments.

There is laughter in my yoga classes too.  Lots of it.  There is laughter and joy but there are also tears.  There are tears and great moments of fear.  There is anxiety and anger and for some reason yoga brings it all out.  People come to class for all sorts of reasons.  The come in search of something, often not knowing what that thing is.  They come thinking they want to do a few asanas, touch their toes and sit in relaxation.  This happens, oh yes this happens, but shit happens too.  Last week a student touched her toes for the first time in her life and along with that moment came floods of tears.  Tears of joy.  Tears of release. Tears of achievement.  In that same class a student who could not find her balance instead found floods of tears in savasana (relaxation).  I held her head as her body shook with the weight of it all.  I watch as people release deep sighs in meditation.  I get to be part of their process of peeling back the layers of themselves.  I get to witness their ahh-aha moments.  I get to be part of their journey and it’s beautiful.

A while back I was asked if I would spend some time doing relaxation and meditation with a lady who was terminally ill.  The sweet, kind, beautiful person was understandably very anxious about the road that lay ahead of her. Once a week I would go to her apartment and for an hour we would talk and then we would sit in quiet meditation with me guiding her to find just a few moments of complete peace.  We would talk of life and death, of fear and trying to really live in the few moments she had left.  I witnessed her sorrow and pain.  I held her hand when she cried and helped her breathe through moments of unease.  I was witness to her most intimate fears.  I heard her stories and sat with her when she needed to find space in those stories and it was a beautiful thing.

Life will break you.  We come into the world devoid of fear or judgement, but life will break you.  Along our journey we bump headfirst into heartache and pain.  We suffer intolerable sickness.  We loose people we love and are brought to our knees by uncertainty.  We fix ourselves with pretend plasters and glue.  We hold it all together with imaginary layers that we think will keep out all the pain….but it won’t.  Life will break you.

I had the incredibly privilege of getting to know a person intimately in the last months of her life.  During our hours together I got to ask about living.  I got to ask her where her breaks had been and where she had built her walls.  I got to see where she had put her plasters and glue and I got to see her layers peel away.

At the end of the day all those layers of ours will come undone.  In the last days of your life each and everyone of those plasters will come unstuck and the glue will melt.  We put them there because we don’t want anyone else to see our pain.  We don’t want to be vulnerable.  We want others to only see the happy pretty parts of ourselves.  What people don’t realise is that underneath all the pretend fixing is where all the real beauty is.

When I see the layers fall and the personal first aid fail I smile.  When I watch in class as the quiet person in the corner finally lets go, I smile.  I smile because the real beauty of a person is in their vulnerability.  The real beauty of the human race is in our connection and when we are vulnerable we connect deeply.  Our beauty is in the layers of who we are.  It’s in our stories and not just the good ones.

It’s hard though.  Taking off the plasters is hard and it hurts.  Something happens though when we do.  When we show another person our pain we free them up to do the same.  When we gut vulnerable we let them get vulnerable too.

Here is the best part of it all.  Like a baby or a person in their last hours where there is a serenity and grace that is breathtaking, a person without all their plasters and glue is the most beautiful thing.

 

 

On love….

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I find that themes seem to run through the weeks of our lives.  I overhear one person talk on a topic, then another will mention that same thing in class, then yet another will approach me for advice….and so it goes.  Commonality between us.  Shared energy that bounces from one to another invoking all sorts of stories within us.  A collective energy that brings issues to the surface alerting us to the fact that we are not alone in dealing with them.

It seems that the shops are filled with red.  Red hearts and cute white bunnies with red heart shaped ears.  Red negligees that are made from whispers of material and heart shaped chocolates that wink at you as you walk past.  Desperate reminders of love.  All these commercial trinkets, pretty as they are, remind us only to love others.  They sell us the story that we will be complete once we have a person to love.  That we will be whole when we can fill our shopping basket with all things red and sweet waiting to be passed on to another.  The flaw in all this is that we have forgotten to love ourselves.  Somewhere along the path of our lives we stop loving who we are.  I am not sure where and when it happens but I do know that we do not come into this world full of self criticism.  We are not born thinking our legs are too fat or our hair the wrong colour.  We do not stand as children in front of the mirror and inhale deep breaths of self loathing.

So here we find our common theme.  I can no longer count the number of times a client has told me that they do not like themselves but over the past few weeks this issue has risen to the surface like bubbles in a pot of porridge.  One after the other I hear their words and feel their anger.  A vast number of them living in a state of perpetual self disappointment.   Awash with self loathing they pour their love into others and hide their inner neglect behind layers of denial.  I hear the words echo around the studio.  I can’t…. I will never be able…. I am no good at…. I am no good… I am too short… I am too tall…. I am to weak….I don’t like myself.  Oh so many ‘I don’t like myselfs’.  I see the ‘help me’ in their eyes and I feel the ache of sadness in their hearts.  At the end of class I ask them to think of things they are grateful for and then I ask question ‘did you put yourself on the list’?

I see it when they stand before my lens.  I look terrible in photos they say…. I am so ugly… I hate my hair…. I am so fat… I hear an endless diatribe of I am not good enough, I’m not pretty enough, I am just plain not enough utterances.  Kilos of criticism and hearts heavy with the weight of it all.

Stop being so hard on yourself.  Just stop.  You are all beautiful.  Every single last one of you is beautiful.  How do you expect anyone else to love you if you do not love yourself.  Stop hating your arms that you believe are imperfect.  If they can hold and hug then they are good enough.  Stop hating your legs that you believe are not long enough or thin enough. They carry you where you want to go…thank them and be grateful for them.  So when people ask me how to stop hating themselves I say this.  Stop standing in front of that mirror and criticising everything you see.  Start by liking one thing.  Be thankful for that, whatever it may be and how ever insignificant you think it is.  Then tomorrow find another thing. If you can’t find something to like then just find something to be grateful for.  You may not love your eyes but you can be grateful that they enable you to see.  You may not love your feet but you can be grateful that they carry you where you want to go.  Keep doing this and one day the dislikes will turn into likes and the you will slowly start to see all the beauty that others find so endearing.

I am not suggesting for one moment that we don’t all have room for growth and improvement.  Without doubt we all have areas we need to work on be it in the physical, mental, emotional or spiritual planes of our lives.  There is always work to be done but you can start by being kinder to yourselves.  Get over that initial hurdle and then start working on the things you can change and gradually accepting the things you can’t.  Go back to being that kid in front of the mirror.  The one who believes in his reflection. The one who believes he is invincible and strong and just perfect the way he is.

Loving someone else will never make up for not loving ourselves.

 

 

 

On the art of letting go.

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‘How do I let go of stuff’.  This is a question I have been asked time and time again over the last few weeks.  I have been asked by students after class, by friends and even by people I hardly know.  All of these people weighty with emotional baggage that we as humans tend to carry around.  Heavy loads of history.  Perhaps it is the new year that makes us want to shed these carry on cases.  Maybe we want to step into this new year without all the stuff we carried with us last year and all the years before.  We talk a lot in yoga class of letting go.  Of opening up our bodies, minds and hearts.  We work hard at making space in our bodies.  We work hard at opening up our joints and in doing so we work hard at releasing all the tension and stuff stored there.

Most of the time we are hardly aware that we have stored this garbage away in our emotional piggy bank.  We don’t open the doors there much.  We don’t really like to look into that dark and dusty cupboard overflowing with souvenirs from past relationships.  We save trashy emotional memento’s from events not worthy of remembering and allow them to settle somewhere within us.  We invite them in and let them stay.  We make room for them.  They take up space within us.  Space that could be open and inviting for new and beautiful things.  Yet here we are, storing old things and carrying them around trying desperately not to look at them or even to remember that they are there.

We store them all over our bodies.  Our hips and solar plexus are the usual willing victims.  Our hips get tight and our lower backs suffer under the weight of all the gritty garbage.  There are other places though.  We are ever so adept at making space for all this stuff.  Our whole bodies can be used for storage.  No part of us can escape this dusty trail.

So how do we let it all go?  How do we brave the opening of those dusty doors?  How do we pull out those unwanted emotional trophies one by one and toss them away forever?  After all its going to hurt isn’t it?  There is only one way to let it out and that is through the heart.  Thats the way it came in and that’s the way to let it out.

Here is how you do it.  You open one door at a time.  You find that memento.  Take a look at it.  You are carrying it around with you, all day, every day.  Its heavy and dirty. You don’t want it and you know that if you toss it aside you will have space. Beautiful fresh open space.  For some reason this is the point where we get fearful.  We are nervous of that space.  We are used to the weight of it and there is a comfort in that.  It’s what we know.  It’s who we are.  It hurts to look at it.  Our chest tightens and our heart starts to close.  Don’t let it.  Right at this point take a deep breath and open the heart and let it go.  Get behind the pain and throw that thing away.  Release it with one big beautiful breath.

Yes it will hurt for a moment but then that moment is over and it is gone.  Surely that is far better than carrying it around for another few years.  That is all you have to do. Open your heart and let it go.  It will hurt for just a few moments and then it will be gone.  Surely that is far better than the pain of carrying it around forever.  So why don’t we do this.  Why do we insist on holding on to this detritus.  Why to we litter our bodies with the leftovers of our own personal history.  For one reason only and that it is because it is what we know and what we know feels safe.  It keeps us in our comfort zone and we are spectacularly bad at moving out of that.

So go ahead and drag that stuff out of those dark and dismal corners.  Let it go and move on.  You will be richly rewarded in ways you can only begin to imagine.  Just breathe and let it go.

 

 

How the universe gave me a lesson in humility

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Last week I was taught a big lesson in humility by the universe.  Life lessons are rarely easy and often sent to us with such impeccable timing it is hard not to laugh at the synchronicity of it all.

I arrive at the national gym chain where I teach my yoga class.  I go to the studio to prepare my music  (I like to do yoga to the likes of George Ezra and Phillip Phillips).  I plugged in my iPhone, rolled out my mat and glanced at the clock.  Exactly seven minutes before class is due to start.  I love the number seven and was feeling pretty good about life.

If I have not already managed my own practice that day I like to spend a few minutes before class warming up so that I can at least touch my toes!  I also like to spend that short time thinking about what I will say at the beginning of class.  It is nice to start the lesson with a few words about some aspect of yoga philosophy.  I decided that I would talk about how there is no room for ego in yoga.  How it is about your own particularly journey back to yourself.  That it does not matter what the person on the mat next to you can do.  That you should not compare yourself to them.  I have a deep belief that ego is a very dangerous thing and responsible for so much of our worlds destruction so it is a matter close to my heart.  Now I say this but somewhere in the back of my mind is the awareness that there is a degree of ego attached to teaching.  There you stand in front of people, knowing something they do not and being able to physically do things they can not.  I am acutely aware of this and yet it still sits there in me.  I admit I get a kick out of the fact that I am probably well past my half way mark in life and able to do things with my body that most of the class cannot do despite being decades younger than me.  I hope I use it to inspire but I suspect that at times it feeds my ego.  It is a human thing.

Inhaling deeply I stretched up in Tadasana (mountain pose) and folded forward to Padahastasana reaching to place my hands flat on the mat in front of my feet. Something I do every single day at the start of my practice.  As I did this I felt a sharp and rather excruciating pain in my lower left back.  I collapsed onto my knees and muttered some exceptionally non yogi words under my breath. Actually I think I said them quite loudly! I tried to stand and could hardly straighten up.  I am sure you can imagine some of the very unpleasant things that were being uttered by me at this time.  I stayed on all fours and tried to roll my spine.  This was not good.

Only minutes to go and no time to call in another teacher.  Deep breaths Niki.  Deep breaths.  Keep calm and carry on. The doors open and bright eyed students appear with all the eagerness of the sun making its way into a new day.  Meanwhile my eyes are watering as if I have been peering into that sun for far too long.

I welcome everyone and go with what I had planned for this particular class.  I inhale deeply and talk of ego and how there is no room for it in our lives…and so we begin our practice.  I was able to do forward bends and most of the balances, however there was not even the tiniest hint of hope that my back was going to go past the vertical.

Humility.  I explain to the class that I had hurt my back and how yoga teaches us to be aware of our bodies and surrender to what they cannot do and rejoice in what they can.  I then tuck my ego firmly where it should be and ask a student to demonstrate all the poses that are quite frankly completely inaccessible to me right now.

Believe me when I say this was not easy. I admit I had to dig deep to find that humility.

Those guys upstairs must have been listening to my every thought and delivered that message to me with astonishingly beautiful timing.

What have I learnt from this.  I have learnt to show a certain tenderness to those students that find poses difficult.  I have learnt that I too must surrender to what my body cannot do and love it for what it can.  Most of all I have learnt that lessons will come to you at a time when you least expect them and you might not always like it but you really have no choice but to be as graceful as you can possibly be in that moment.

We are here to learn and grow.  To always try and be a better person tomorrow than we are today and   to try to do that with as much grace and kindness as we can muster.  When we don’t be sure that the universe will come along and give you a big flat slap as a reminder.

 

 

 

 

 

Making space in art and life

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Space is one of my favourite words.  I love all that it implies and how it relates to our lives and our art.  Do you carve out space for yourself during your day?  A few moments of silence.  It might be with your early morning cup of coffee when you take time to smell the scent of the morning breeze and all that the day has to offer.  Or perhaps when you go to the gym or for a run or maybe even just when you drive to work.  Or in the last few moments before you go to sleep when you utter the last few sighs of your day.  It does not matter how you find your space – just that you do.

In yoga we talk of making space in our bodies.  Before I go into a pose I think about where in my body I need to make space.  If I am doing a backbend I need to make space in my spine and perhaps my shoulders.  If I am doing a forward bend I might need to make space in my hips and between my ribs, and I always, always need to make space in my mind.  I carve out space for myself everyday on my mat or when I go for a run.  With each inhale and exhale I release the old, the cramped and the clutter from my mind and body and make space for the new.  Old thoughts, old patterns and old habits are let go and then there is all that beautiful space for creativity to unfold.  Space allows room for dreaming.  It is when the stirrings of new ideas begin and images already dreamt can evolve towards reality.

I like space in art.  It allows the viewer to linger and imagine.  It allows the viewer to dream.  What they dream of does not matter.  It only matters that they do.  Allow space in your photographs for a sigh from the viewer.  Space for their gaze to wander and wonder.  Make space in your stories so that the reader has room to imagine.  Space for those inhales and exhales to happen.  Even if you are shooting stock, as I do, allow space for words in your photographs.

Space, is to me, one of the most underrated of modern day concepts.  Parents and schools fill their children’s lives and give them no space to breathe.  Children need space to dream.  They need to lie under a tree and look up at all that beautiful space in the sky and imagine.  They need to be allowed to make space in their bodies with movement.   They too need spaces in their stories.

Space is not necessarily meant to be filled.  It can be just space.  Let it be that.

 

 

 

Be open and go with the flow

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Sometimes in life sweet little moments come along that surprise us with their unexpected delightfulness.  Moments that make you wonder about the synchronicity of things and leave you with a warmth in your belly that carries you through the day in a sort of satisfied state of awe.

I had one such moment this week which I feel inspired to share with you.  I was in the yoga studio at the gym as is usual at some point during the day.  No one else was in the studio and I was half way through my practice, standing on my head and feeling pretty at peace with the world.  A young Indian man came into the studio looking for a skipping rope.  He left and I continued with my upside-down meditation.

A few minutes later the young man returned and approached me.  He asked me about my yoga and what other exercise I did.  We ended up talking for an hour.  We talked of life and diet and living well and work and all that makes us grow as human beings.  Here I sat on my mat and openly engaged with a young man I had not met until that very morning.  He, it turned out, is due to get married in a couple of months and being a little overweight had decided he needed to take some fairly drastic steps regarding self improvement.  Being of Indian decent he was acutely aware that their diet of curries and lots of sweet cakes was not ideal, but that is not really the point here.  The point is that we were both willing to give and receive there on that studio floor.  He it turned out works with a lot of Bollywood stars and I being a portrait photographer would well get some really amazing introductions.  He wants to work on himself and I, apart from my photography, am actively drawn to helping others do exactly that.

We exchanged numbers and I encouraged him to come to class.  A little while later this sweet young man rang me.  He rang to thank me for being so open, engaging and friendly.  For helping him on his way.  He was telling me how much he had got out of the meeting but I had left feeling that I had got the better deal.  Isn’t that sweet!

I never finished my yoga practice but what I gained from that meeting was far greater.  I left the studio that morning feeling a tingling delight that stayed with me throughout the day.  It was the simple joy of being open and giving and receiving.  Of making a new friend from a completely different age and ethnic group.  My practice had expanded beyond the physical in that time.

You never know what little surprises await you and what rewards they might bring.  Be open to receiving and giving.  Following this through into all areas of your life.  The more you give the more you receive and it really is that simple.

 

 

 



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