by Hilary Lindsay | Aug 16, 2015 | anatomy, Asana, Healthy Living, Meditation, nashville yoga, therapeutic yoga, Yoga, yoga class, yoga community, Yoga psychology, yoga teacher, yoga teaching |
Thanks to my failed relationship to all things virtual connection, I had lost much of my cherished music in a wrong attempt to switch I-tunes to my new computer. In the resulting fit of pique I had foregone music in class for the better part of a year and turned to my left brain teaching mode but I need music tonight so I plug this vintage I-pod in knowing that what will or will not play is a mystery. I’ve got a play list running that had been shot full of holes in the firestorm. Tonight I’m checking this out to see if something destroyed has been impossibly recently resuscitated by my I.T. guy. I’ve desperately missed conducting movement to music which was lost in tandem by my crapped out hip and my crapped out I-pod. The students trickle in. I decide to let untested music ride as class begins. As we settle down it’s apparent that the song playing is a bit intense. The list is called Alternative. It was arranged to tear your salty heart from a bomb shelter and restore it honey dripping to an emerald cave. “Hello friends. I’m running a questionable play list which is an interesting choice right here as I don’t remember what’s on it and I don’t know most of you. Music is personal. Something here might urge you to run screaming from the room. I want you to do this (hand raised) if a song makes you nuts and I will cut it off. If you agree, we’ll continue this experiment together. I hope it serves...
by Hilary Lindsay | Jun 27, 2015 | Cooking, Healthy Living, nashville yoga, Recipes, yoga teacher |
Here is my recipe for an uncooked fresh fruit pie for the Fourth of July that will delight. I am not giving you a crust recipe because I use Whole Foods Organic crusts these days. They also have spelt or whole wheat…. Neither appeal to me but you may like them. When I make my own crust I always use whole wheat pastry flour for a quarter of the crust because it has a nutty, flakiness that seems lovely to me. Pastry flour is lower in gluten so it doesn’t hold together as well and may not be as pretty but you know pretty only goes so far. You can substitute a vegan crust or for you folks who are both non-gluten and vegan you could make a crust using nuts and seeds but I don’t know how to do it well enough to share yet. I change this recipe to suit my moods or guests as I do all things eaten, worn or done! Slice and mix approximately: One pint of blueberries or blackberries or both One pint of strawberries One large banana (Room temperature) Heat about a cup of fresh squeezed orange juice. Today I’ll use organic orange strawberry banana as that’s what I have. (Do not eat conventional strawberries, they are pesticide sponges!) Dissolve about a TBLSP Agar Agar (you can substitute kanten) into cold juice and bring to boil Heat crust at 375 degrees for 10 minutes (My chef friend Bett likes a browner crust. If she’s coming over, cook yours longer) Pour fruit into hot crust Pour hot juice mixture over it...
by Hilary Lindsay | Apr 5, 2015 | Asana, nashville yoga, Prose, Yoga, yoga class, Yoga psychology, yoga teacher, yoga teaching |
Your body and mind communicate by an unspoken language. You begin class standing at attention when I suggest you lift the skirts of your inner thighs. Your skin shifts upward like an arrow shot from ankle holsters. Your bones react and pull toward earth. Your breath migrates to the fullest reaches of your ribs; all of them. Inner thighs do not have skirts. Your mind has translated this to something else. Bravo. ~Your belly, receptive to the upward pull of the thighs moves in and up. ~Your calves, receptive to the upward pull of the thighs draw down. ~The heels root. ~The thighs rise. ~The buttocks descend. ~The chest lifts. If the pose is set in motion correctly, the rest falls in to place. Who will begin the dialogue for the body to follow before you know the first word? The approach offered stealthily does not overwhelm the student. It is most effective when both delicate and deliberate. That is the catalyst to poetry in motion. Your guide is the teacher who directs you with the first word. And allows the ones that follow to be uniquely your...
by Hilary Lindsay | Mar 23, 2015 | anatomy, Asana, Meditation, nashville yoga, Yoga, yoga class, Yoga psychology, yoga teaching |
You are lying down, face up on a hard floor in a public place. You have completed your yoga practice which required attention and vigilance. You trained yourself to stay alert. You are used to watching out for yourself more than watching into yourself so it was a beautiful effort. When you are asked to transition from that effort to effortless relaxation your nerves grasp and rush for a place to rest that is not immediately obvious. The mind is still scanning the horizon as is its habit. Savasana: Place a blanket with no more than an inch or so of height under the head with the edge touching the tops of the shoulders but not under the shoulders. You are connecting your head to your trunk for the sake of the nervous system which can stand down. (If your chin is jutted to the ceiling and you cannot lengthen your neck you may add height until the throat recedes below the Adams Apple. You may alternately bend your knees and rest a bolster under your thighs to soften the tight back line of the spine, pelvis or legs.) Turn the palms up and let no part of the arm touch the trunk but no farther than this necessitates. You are now un-tethered. Let the upper eyelid drop rather than squeezing the lower lid and upper lid together to close the eyes. You are more un-tethered, disconnecting one part of your skin to another. Boundaries fade and the lightness that comes may feel disorienting. You may find you need an anchor. Place something with weight on your...
by Hilary Lindsay | Jan 15, 2015 | Asana, Meditation, nashville yoga, Nature, Poetry, Prose, society, Tradition, Yoga, yoga class, Yoga History, Yoga Philosophy, yoga teacher, yoga teaching |
It exploded from comets To begin as the oceans, And borders of seas, Becoming the vapor, the clouds and the rain, And one with the earth, Becoming the rivers, the lakes, and the streams, To become most of me, I breathed it out to become part of you. Altered, transformed, shifted, ripened In time and beings, Its sparkle drew my searching eye and quenched a thirsty palette. Is there a broken line in the lineage? Does this drop contain the residue of the first drop? Some has been burnt away for sure but most remains. Like water, this yoga: To know it with intellect is a lively chase for a living art from an ancient time. Not my favorite game, but one I’ll play when the players arouse, Uninterrupted on more peaceful days I’ll stand in sensation. This yoga like water whose chemistry would not matter if the proof was my health, Would bear further examination should it rouse suspicion. I was curious and explored something apart from me, Until it was no longer apart but a part. ...
