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“Yoga for all seasons; may our yoga practices not collect dust”
Autumn Bolin
Spring. Often we can smell it coming before we see or feel it. Trudging through the slush, we inhale the sweet, damp scent of the earth and eventually we are greeted by a warm day. Excited, but tentative as mice, we peek our heads outside, testing the commitment of this warmth. With honed skills, we ride the ebb and flow of Spring’s approach—one day wearing shorts and the next our down jackets—and before long we are basking in Spring, thirstily drinking in the blue skies and golden sun, sometimes feeling dizzy from the thawing and swirling of our spirits. And before the tulips show their blooms, our indoor activities, like our wool sweaters, are boxed away, ready to collect dust until the Fall.
A walk in the woods, a run in the neighborhood, a precarious grip on a steep crag—all of these can elicit a calmness of spirit and a quiet of mind; they are subjective expressions of yoga. And yet while yoga can look many different ways, any realization of yoga asks for an awareness of balance—and this balance is much more than maintaining an asana. Throughout the day we notice changes in our physical and energy bodies; noting ‘I’m hot’ or ‘I’m cold’ and from here tuning in to the energy of the sort of practice that would bring about greater balance. On a chilly day we may crave a warmer practice—more ‘ha’, sun; on a warm day we may choose a cooler practice—more ‘tha’, moon. While these messages may be clear to us throughout a day, we would learn much from turning our attention toward larger cycles like the seasons. Certainly we find balance in warming our homes in the winter and keeping cool in the summer, but we can explore deeper places of our beings in our worlds by considering how we can balance the energies of the seasons with the energies of our practices.
Yoga is unity. We practice uniting our bodies with our minds and our hearts, the individual with the universal, and with these unions—and more—we manifest the balance that is innate but too easily forgotten or unacknowledged by the busy-ness of our daily lives. When we come together for a class in the studio, we cultivate our personal practices, in part, by participating in our practice with each other. From reminders about alignment that protect and challenge our bodies, to being led through pranayama exercises that bring about a deep, meditative calm, we are gently brought back into our truest selves through our yoga classes. These shared practices allow us opportunities to discover, explore, and reside in experiences that are unique from many of our home practices. The sun’s siren song is too tempting to deny; let us listen, though, with our other ear to the call of our dedicated yoga practice.
I hope we all play, sweat, and get dirty with the earth in these coming warm months; and I hope we all remember to balance this fire by coming indoors to practice yoga in our community space—a space whose heart beats from each and every one of us.
Autumn Bolin
Spring. Often we can smell it coming before we see or feel it. Trudging through the slush, we inhale the sweet, damp scent of the earth and eventually we are greeted by a warm day. Excited, but tentative as mice, we peek our heads outside, testing the commitment of this warmth. With honed skills, we ride the ebb and flow of Spring’s approach—one day wearing shorts and the next our down jackets—and before long we are basking in Spring, thirstily drinking in the blue skies and golden sun, sometimes feeling dizzy from the thawing and swirling of our spirits. And before the tulips show their blooms, our indoor activities, like our wool sweaters, are boxed away, ready to collect dust until the Fall.
A walk in the woods, a run in the neighborhood, a precarious grip on a steep crag—all of these can elicit a calmness of spirit and a quiet of mind; they are subjective expressions of yoga. And yet while yoga can look many different ways, any realization of yoga asks for an awareness of balance—and this balance is much more than maintaining an asana. Throughout the day we notice changes in our physical and energy bodies; noting ‘I’m hot’ or ‘I’m cold’ and from here tuning in to the energy of the sort of practice that would bring about greater balance. On a chilly day we may crave a warmer practice—more ‘ha’, sun; on a warm day we may choose a cooler practice—more ‘tha’, moon. While these messages may be clear to us throughout a day, we would learn much from turning our attention toward larger cycles like the seasons. Certainly we find balance in warming our homes in the winter and keeping cool in the summer, but we can explore deeper places of our beings in our worlds by considering how we can balance the energies of the seasons with the energies of our practices.
Yoga is unity. We practice uniting our bodies with our minds and our hearts, the individual with the universal, and with these unions—and more—we manifest the balance that is innate but too easily forgotten or unacknowledged by the busy-ness of our daily lives. When we come together for a class in the studio, we cultivate our personal practices, in part, by participating in our practice with each other. From reminders about alignment that protect and challenge our bodies, to being led through pranayama exercises that bring about a deep, meditative calm, we are gently brought back into our truest selves through our yoga classes. These shared practices allow us opportunities to discover, explore, and reside in experiences that are unique from many of our home practices. The sun’s siren song is too tempting to deny; let us listen, though, with our other ear to the call of our dedicated yoga practice.
I hope we all play, sweat, and get dirty with the earth in these coming warm months; and I hope we all remember to balance this fire by coming indoors to practice yoga in our community space—a space whose heart beats from each and every one of us.
