Seattle Yogini

Pie in the Sky

"There is comfort in these movements, so familiar to me" I think to myself as I toss flour onto the countertop in preparation for rolling out the pie crust.  My sister and I have decided to make an apple pie, something our family eats a lot of when we get together (my Dad makes awesome pies).  We don't want him to feel like he has to do it, and I for one feel confident that everyone will be happy to smell a pie baking right about now.

We've always made pies from scratch, crust and all.  To do anything else renders a pie less familiar and, in many ways, less appetizing.  I find a familiar and somewhat surprising comfort in the process...surprising because I realize that I haven't made a pie for Rob and myself in a long time.  This work that is providing me with so much comfort is one I have not taken advantage of at home, despite my need for comfort this summer.  I bump my way around the unfamiliar kitchen, finding the utensils I need.  I show my sister how to use the apple peeler, and how to core and slice them for pie.  This, apparently, is newer territory for her than it is for me.  We've agreed that she'll prep the apples whilst I do the crust.  This makes me happy and I vastly prefer the pastry work to the knife work, and she also seems content with her task.

We listen to James Brown and sway our hips as we work.  Dad's running an errand, Mom's taking a much-needed nap.  I let my mind clear as I roll and flip, roll and flip the crust.  The countertop is tilework - hexagons.  They leave little imprints on the crust.  I look out the window at the sound of romping horses and see the four adults gallop by...spooked or just playing, who knows.  Maybe they just wanted to feel their own swiftness, stretch their legs.  E and I are wrapping things up when Mom comes down the stairs, saying "How nice to see two women in the kitchen"...her two grown women.  E finishes with apples at about the time that Dad gets home.  He notices her gathering the remnants of peel and core and suggests she take it out for the horses.  They'll get a treat from this work, too.

We'll eat our apple pie together after dinner, and probably again tomorrow for breakfast.  It will provide sustenance and comfort, both sorely needed right now.  And when I get home to Seattle, I'll finally make that cherry pie I promised Rob, the contents of which have been sitting in our pantry for months.  I want to fill our home with the comfort that I am finding here.  Too bad the horses don't travel very easily...

Thunder & Lightning

We hear thunder in the distance, and our eyes meet. "Hmmmm, we should go put the horses in, if that's really thunder" says my Dad.  My sister, E, and I jump up exclaiming "I'll help you!" and out we go.  The rain is just barely starting to fall, and we can smell the impending storm in the air.  Flashes of lightning brighten the night sky as we scurry to the barn.

The horses know what we're up to; they snuffle and neigh at us as we make our way past the pasture.  We divvy out the evening meal:  scoops of feed, portions of hay, a bucket of water in each stall.  Dad has to clean out the babies' stall (two males, a little over two years old), so we three humans join "the boys" in their big stall, keeping the bigger one, Indy, from "sharing" Vinnie's portion of feed.  While they eat I pet them and coo, scratching their flanks, bellies, chests.  Their are so soft, so smooth, and I feel soothed after this hard day - just being near them.

We get the adults into their stalls and they chow down.  The rain is getting a bit heavier, and after the drought they've had here in Evansville (Indiana), the horses took advantage of the coolness.  Having rolled around in the mud, they are now filthy...and quite pleased with themselves.  I want so much to pet and nuzzle them, but decide to tide myself over with the boys.  Hopefully I'll be able to get my fill of the adults tomorrow, when they will surely need a good brushing.

By the time we get back into the house, there are big flashes of lightning and loud booms of thunder all around.  We close windows and light candles, just in case the power goes out.  It is soothing, this work of settling in for the storm.  I hope that it rains all night (as does the rest of the county, I've no doubt) and that I can listen to it as I fall asleep.

Today we buried my grandmother.  Yesterday we spent the day at the funeral home to attend to visitors and folks giving their condolences.  The day before I spent traveling here from Seattle.  I am tired in a way I haven't felt in a long time - a combination of physical exhaustion and emotional upheaval that has me feeling raw and utterly spent.  My emotions today, particularly, have been like the thunder and lightning outside:  periods of quiet serenity followed by (sometimes sudden) booms, shakes, and blasts of light.

The first time I taught Yoga

I remember the first time I taught yoga.  I was deployed to Prince Sultan Air Base, Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.  It was December of 2002 and I'd been there for a couple of weeks.  I'd finally plucked up the courage to take my yoga mat and my copy of David Swenson's Ashtanga Yoga:  The Practice Manual to the gym so that I could practice.  I had informally practiced Ashtanga for a little while (using this book, a couple of classes, and a DVD), and brought the book along so that I could practice the Primary Series whilst deployed.  At the time I wasn't sure if the book would get confiscated upon entering the Kingdom, due to the near-nakedness of Mr. Swenson in the photos (he wears the traditional "Iyengar undies" - sorry I can't find a link, but they basically look like a cotton diaper cover, with elastic legs and waist).  So I snuck the book in.  :-p

Anyway, I'd been spotted practicing in the gym and was asked if I would teach a class.  Apparently there had been a lot of interest shown in having a yoga class, but there was no one to teach.  I hadn't had any teacher training, so when asked if I would be the teacher I promptly and decisively said "No."  I was reluctantly swayed, however, after we reached an agreement that participants in the class would be told that I was "leading them through a pratice, not teaching them yoga."  I felt very strongly about that, because while I knew that I could play Yoga Simon Says with whomever showed up, I knew that I lacked the skills to safely and appropriately teach to each individual's ability and needs.  That concept is one of my guiding principals, and I'm thankful that even back then I recognized the important difference between going through some yoga moves with a yoga-bot at the front of the class and being taught the art and science of yoga by a trained, professional teacher.

Classes went well - twice a week - until the war got under way and my work schedule made it impossible for me to teach.  That experience underscored for me the importance of having adequate teacher training - not just having experience practicing yoga - before truly becoming a teacher.  Also, I may be the only yoga teacher who can honestly say that her first classes were taught while she was at war, and mean it figuratively as well as literally.

Teaching Yoga in a Dress

I wear dresses or skirts almost exclusively, a conscious shift in my wardrobe that has taken a couple of years to develop.  In addition to their practicality and comfort, I feel better in dresses/skirts than I ever have in pants.  Also?  Most pants are made for bodies shaped not-like-mine.  Dresses, however, honor the curves.  Excellent.

As you can imagine, I don't wear dresses or skirts to work.  Such attire would be cumbersome and, well, immodest were I to wear it while teaching yoga.  Today, however, I made an exception.  Today is International Wear A Dress Day.  Since I am a great supporter of the dress, I decided to wear a dress-type garment over my regular teaching clothes and tell my classes what I'm doing and why.  Such behavior is one of my quirky attributes that - thankfully - creates much of my appeal.  Or, at least, nobody tells me if they think I've gone batty.  Ha ha ha ha.

Behold (my apologies for the quality of the photo, it was very spur-of-the-moment...and I can't really justify the crazy-lady hair except to say that it looks much better in person):

(Kelly in Vrksasana - the  Tree Pose)

This is one of my favorite pieces, from Eileen Fisher.  It's clearly a layering piece, not meant to be worn on its own, which made it perfect for today's event.  I just put it away for the season on Friday, but today we're having bizarro weather (no, seriously, >80 F is not normal for Seattle this time of year) so I pulled it back out.  It got in the way a teensy bit, but is well worth the advertising for the wonders of dresses.  :-)

Picklepalooza

I made sweet pickles last week, using a generations' old recipe from my mother-in-law.  When I say "Sweet Pickles", it is almost a misrepresentation of the yumminess that I created.  Heinz ain't got nothin' on the homemade pickle!

These just-crunchy-enough pickle coins are sweet and sour, with a bouquet of spices that store bought brands don't offer.  Here's the list of pickling spices:  chilies (actually, these I picked out by hand, per the recipe, otherwise we'd have hot and spicy sweet pickles), coriander, cumin, ginger, black pepper, allspice, cinnamon, bay leaves, brown mustard, yellow mustard, cloves and turmeric.  This delightful concoction is from Morton & Bassett (I bought it at Whole Foods).  I imagine that the results will vary depending upon the brand of pickling spices used.

I'm not the only one who liked them, either.  Rob loves them, and so did "the guys" (any of a number of men who work for our general contractor).  One even suggested that I sell them at the Ballard Market.  :-)

If you want to make your own pickles, it's a cinch!  In fact, if you're interested in making your own canned food (jams, fruits sauces, pickles, etc.) pickles are a great place to begin.  The recipe was simple, and I found a similar one in my Ball Blue Book of Preserving (a wonderful resource for all things canning!).  The recipe I used is old enough that the instructions were, shall we say, intuitive.  So I followed the canning recommendations in my Ball Blue Book when I got to that part of the process.

I used to can a lot, but a couple of summers have gone by without this fun, empowering activity.  There's nothing quite like putting away food for the winter, and knowing that at any time I'll be able to pull out something to share with family and friends that is delightful, delicious, and made with my own hands.  This return to canning has me inspired to take advantage of the season's last fruits.  We loved having fresh-tasting canned peaches in February, and nothing compares to homemade plum jam!  I'd better go rustle up my jars and lids....

Missy

I remember the fist time I heard Missy Elliott's "Get Your Freak On".  I'd just arrived at Osan Air Base, Republic of South Korea.  I had shiny butter bars on my uniform, a freshly-minted 2Lt.  My sponsor , J., was driving me around the base for passes, etc., and this song was on the radio.

It was new to me, and I hadn't heard anything quite like it.  I liked a wide variety of music (and still do) but hadn't had much exposure to hip hop.  I was familiar with Missy from having watched the first MTV "Real World", waaaaaay back in the day...but I had no idea that she had become famous.  I thought that the song was interesting, but I felt uncomfortable with it blaring out the Jeep's open windows.  Looking back, I smile at my young self's naivete as I admit to you that I was uncomfortable because I felt that the song was incongruous with what I believed to be the dignity of my new career/situation.

I heard this song on the radio today, and my oh my how things have changed.  Now, I appreciate Missy's artistry and courage.  She did something pretty new and presented a new version of the female performer.  She isn't on my ipod, but after this afternoon's fun I may just have to change that.

Back from Sabbatical

Well, my yearly sabbatical is coming to a close.  I took six weeks this year (!), two of which were spent on the east coast with family.  I know I up and left with no warning...it doesn't make a lot of sense to me to announce an upcoming extended absence from my home to, you know, the entire world (all four of you who read my blog, anyway  hahahaha).  So rather than let everyone know ahead of time, I fill you in after the fact!

This post is simply a shout-out to let you know I'm home and (almost) back to work.  The post that follows is today's new post.  I'm going to start a weekly feature, probably on Thursdays, called "Firsts".  In this new category I'll post a short blurb about Firsts that I remember.  Check out todays to see what I'm talking about!

I hope your summer was wonderful.  If you live in the Seattle area, then I hope that you feel as blessed by this gorgeous weather as I do!