The Beach

We sat on the beach

She and I

My arms extended back to brace me

She relaxed back

Revealing another talent as a serve as a

Beach chair

Each sense mesmerized with the landscape

We watch the waves of the other great pond

Kiss the sand and rocks

Some are smashing lipsmackers

Others are rolling beauty

Each has a sound all its own

Within the cacophony of many waves

The air is crisp and cool

A soft evening breeze cools us

After a hot day

All that’s left of the sun

Are a crown of rays peeking behind

The skyline of mountains and clouds

Pink and orange hues span east to west

And recede towards the west

Leaving only blacks, whites, and grey

Soon our suns sisters and brothers will have their turn to shine

As much as the physical senses are full on

In pleasure and noticing

They are only a part of the grandeur of the setting

Moved by the inspired feminine relaxed back

Feeling the rich masculine of support

In awe of the watery fathomless blueness

Laid open before us

Oddly enough holding its own earthiness

And grounding in its natural fluidity

Grateful for the moment and opportunity

In pure wonderment of life

Feeling fully present and aware

Knowing this will be a memory in a moment

The energy of this will live

Even a remembrance won’t find the details

The memory does not matter

We relish this sweetness and let it go

Into the breeze

It may find us again

Or it may not

Should it reveal itself again

It won’t be through adoration for nostalgia

We will know the way it lives us still

Transitions

For those of you who’ve been to a yoga class, have you ever noticed some of the amazingly beautiful, graceful, gorgeous transitions some women artfully express as they move from one posture to the next? If I wasn’t doing the practice myself, I imagine I would just watch with awe and wonder.

There’s a part of me that wishes my transitions had a similar quality, and I’m fully aware that what I see and admire is not my style. So I awkwardly play around with my transitions, hoping to surrender to what might want to reveal itself. To this point, I’m not terribly satisfied  with the changes from my pose to the pose.

Recently I asked Kirsten Werner about this. I made the same comment about the transitions, and how can I, as a man, express a transition in my own way, in a more masculine way. I loved her answer. What she said was that transitions were just as much a form of posture as the postures themselves. That they have their own alignment, their own intention. Just as every posture has a prescribed form with many variations, every transition is similar, but rarely spoken about. So she encouraged me to approach the transitions with a similar mindset as I do with the asanas.

Around the same time as I spoke with Kirsten, I was given an ‘assignment’ from Sofia Diaz – to notice every transition for 24 hours. Notice my own energy, notice the energy of the new environment, and notice how they blend together. And I did it. It was amazing to notice how many transitions there really are, that we rarely think about. Even as we walk about our own home, we transition from a kitchen into a hallway through a doorway, into a bedroom and so on. The transitions are endless, even down to every breath, every blink, every footstep. It was a remarkable exercise to notice all that.

As I’ve ruminated on transitions and yoga, I also remembered something about some very core energies of the masculine and feminine. An essential feminine energy is flow, movement – which is exactly what transitions are in yoga. They are the yoga between the yoga asanas themselves. It’s no wonder women are so naturally expressive in that space. A fundamental masculine energy is stillness and groundedness – which is exactly what the yoga asanas themselves usually are. I am much more comfortable with a yoga practice that involves holding poses longer, and in the very rare times I’ve been in a yoga class with all men, that’s what we do a lot of.

With these ideas I’ve been bringing more of the awareness and surrender I often feel in a pose into the transitions themselves. To feel them completely, to notice how my body naturally moves, to listen to the changing energies with the movement.

One of my favorite ideas is the more I know, the less I know. I’m not sure if that’s a quote from somewhere, but it always resonates with me. Each nugget of information I learn reveals dozens or hundreds of nuggets attached to that one bit, especially since knowledge is as interconnected and relationship as people are. I had some idea that yoga it a spacious body of knowledge, wisdom, and practice – and yet each new morsel reveals so much more that’s available. So it is with transitions as well.

On to something new, again!

The Only One

As I’ve been to more yoga practices in the past three months, I’ve come upon a curious situation. In about a third of the classes I’ve gone to, I’m the only man present!

For my work with computers, it’s entirely the opposite. In the office I’m in, it’s more than 90% men. In fact most of my life at work has been like that. I’ve had the experience of being in environments that are mostly women, but it’s unusual. At one point for a year I was a manager with six women reporting to me, so I am familiar with some of the energies and dynamics – but with yoga it’s different.

There are many things striking me about the unusual nature of being the only man in a yoga practice.

For me, it’s been an opportunity to feel my own energy and being in relation to such a potent, focused feminine energy. As the solo-man thing has happened more and more, I am noticing different aspects. There’s the question of what is my energy right now. Another question of what do I want my energy to be. Then the feeling and question of what’s the energy in the room like. And how do I relate to that energy, or fit it the energy, or sit in that energy, or even bump up against that energy. It’s different every time.

I remember when this really started to become a curiosity for me, and then reflecting back on what I had naturally felt and done. The practice was a small one, 7 of us total including the teacher. I felt my energy as being good, but not deeply seated as it sometimes is. I began to wonder about how did I want it to feel and I sensed I wanted to bring forth more of my energy. As I started to do so, I could feel my energy bumping into and even somewhat being resisted by the energy from the women in the room. So I felt that energy and while it wasn’t forceful it had a beautiful, soft, comforting, and even deep, rhythm to it that didn’t want to be disturbed. Then I just melted into that energy and what a difference that made as the class flowed so well in that space.

I’ve also noticed that where I am physically with the room can make a difference as well. If I’m in or very near the middle, it’s much easier to be in a masculine type energy and hold the space with the feminine around me. If I’m on the edge, it’s easy for me to be on the edge – noticing the fuzzy boundaries and holding my place while not being pushed out of the container. Other areas feel more challenging as I’m not quick sure where to land between the center or the edge, and in some of those cases, as in the above class, I just melt in.

I notice when a man or masculine energy isn’t really expected or wanted. As if the class has a general tendency towards all women, and then unexpectedly a man is there. I also notice the opposite, when there’s a welcoming sense to having a man present.

It’s a bit like being a minority. I’ve been in foreign countries where being white is certainly a minority – Vietnam, Tanzania, Peru. I know I stand out, and yet I don’t recall feeling as much of a difference in those situations as I do in a yoga class as the only man. Maybe it’s the concentrated, engaged energy, maybe it’s the small space. Maybe I really do stand out that much.

It’s a space for me to play. To know my strengths and energies – and the differences. To know when I’m strong and can meet a roomful of women. To know when to be a graceful man in a field of feminine. When and how to hold a boundary or maybe resist, or to join what’s arising, or to contain and hold. It’s a fun exploration I’ll continue to play with as the only one!