Where's the Food?

My husband forwarded this article to me, which basically underlines the findings of my first graduate degree program regarding cities and basic living conditions: the less wealthy an area of town is, the fewer grocery stores there are. 

http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/local/361235_foodvoid01.html

My study, conducted in LA, showed worse findings. There were actually small grocery stores peppered throughout some of the poorest neighborhoods of L.A., but I found the produce to often be nearly inedible. I volunteered to put together more than 100 boxes of food, medicine, and basic hygiene packages and deliver them to needy families. Some of the produce we bagged were wilted green vegetables, slightly moldy oranges, and spoiling strawberries, all donations from "local" stores. We went door to door, delivering these care packages to places that didn't even look like homes: a cardboard "door" over an opening in an abandoned building, for example. I felt a mixture of shame and distress. What is someone ate this food and became sick? The coordinator of the program laughed at my concern. He said that many of the people receiving the food had not had vegetables in many days, and would gladly eat it, after cooking everything thoroughly. Still, my mind was seared with the vision of sickly near-homeless people eating what I would easily throw to the trash. 

This article talks about West Seattle, but not the area where I live. My area is inundated with grocery stores: within walking distance, I have a Safeway, a PCC, and a short bike ride away is Metropolitan Market. In a year, I'll also have a QFC and Whole Foods within a five minute walk from my doorstep. Not true for the residents of South West Seattle, where there is no market for miles. 

One little gem is Tony's market on 35th and Barton. Tony's doesn't advertise. They don't have a webpage. But they have produce consisting of locally grown and regionally grown produce, and some organic produce as well. Their prices are reasonable, and their produce is fresh. My husband and I buy from there every two weeks, since the Alaska Junction farmer's market does not have much produce to offer, only flowers. 

Does your neighborhood have a gem like Tony's? If so, tell us about it, and tell everyone where it is. Help support your local markets, and guide others who are pinched in the recession towards healthy but reasonably-priced food.

The Wireless Yogini: The Wireless Yogini: Tech Stuff: My Motorcycle Fantasy....revealed

The Wireless Yogini: The Wireless Yogini: Tech Stuff: My Motorcycle Fantasy....revealed

The Wireless Yogini: Tech Stuff: My Motorcycle Fantasy....revealed

The Wireless Yogini: Tech Stuff: My Motorcycle Fantasy....revealed

Tech Stuff: My Motorcycle Fantasy....revealed

In case you were wondering if all I'm ever going to write about involves yoga and bellydance, here's the cool stuff for you tech lovers.

An American yogini was the first person in our country to buy the new Vectrix electric motorcycle. In an article published in May 2008 Yoga Journal magazine, this yogini wanted to show her concern for the environment while needing a reliable vehicle to commute to Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health, located near Lennox, MA. It hits speeds high enough to enter the freeway, and you can charge it over night. Hailed for low maintenance, speed, and style, this truly green machine has caught my eye. 

For more information on this completely electric, low maintenance motorcycle that has me drooling and wishing to exchange my BMW F650 for one of these, check out this link:

http://vectrix.com/corporate/US/news.php

Today being May 1st, I took my motorcycle out for its first official Spring 2008 ride. For reasons too long to list here, I hadn't taken the bike out for some time. You know it has been too long when you're unsure you know how to ride anymore. But every time I get on my bike -- unless there is a downpour like the kind you have in Taiwan during a monsoon -- it's like falling in love. The sun is shining, I can feel the wind on my body, and hear my hair fluttering behind me. All the riders are giving each other the thumbs up sign, and I feel like I'm part of the world again instead of working out of my home. Today's ride stayed local -- I didn't feel like burning up a lot of gas to go up to Edmonds on the waterfront. So it was Alki Beach, watching people walk their dogs, and a young couple get ready in gown and tux for their big wedding day. I meditated for 10 minutes on a park bench by the water, and watched a huge military ship go by. I thought to myself, "This is why I have a motorcycle. I'm never going to sell it. I'm only going to upgrade."

Again, it had been far too long since I had taken my bike out for a joy ride. As I approached my bike to ride home, I noticed a couple of people looking at my bike as they walked by. Maybe they were checking out a couple of my bike's war wounds:  a broken tail light wrapped in a little electric tape. Or maybe they were looking at the little bell tied onto the back, for good luck. To my embarassment, it was neither. I had left my motorcycle key in the lock located near the rear of the bike, used to pop up the seat to put an item or two inside.  In the space of 15 minutes, anyone who knew what they were doing could have rode off with my bike. 

But this is West Seattle, it's sunny, everyone is still walking their dogs, and the theft that could have happened didn't. It's the way things should be. Like the movie, "Grand Canyon", one of the characters explains it: he should be able to help this man, and the thugs should drive away and leave him alone. 

Maybe all of this is some indication that I'm ready to move up to a Vectrix, and let someone else enjoy the bike that ushered me into so much freedom back in 2001, along with yoga and bellydance. Good things come in threes. 

When People Say "I'm not very good at yoga"

Continuing on with stories about yoga classes, funny (ha ha) and funny (not so ha ha), my husband and I have a shared story about a recent yoga class we took together in San Francisco. But before I tell you about it, let me first address the comment I get from people all the time, "I've tried yoga, but I'm not very good at it." I hear that comment with the ears of my wise teachers, who tell me over and over again that all of us already know what yoga is -- we've simply just forgotten what we once knew as a child. Yoga asana (postures) is only one of the eight limbed path, and though you might not know all the sanskrit names for them, many of the principles are universal, such as the practice of ahimsa, or non-violence. Many people would be surprised at how much yoga -- or union of the mind and body -- they already practice in the pursuit of meaningful everyday life and relationship. 

With that in mind, my husband and I dropped into a morning class in a swanky, moderate- sized yoga studio near the business district of SF. It's beautiful dark wood floors, dozens of spaces for shoes and personal belongings, and retail space for yoga products and clothing just shouted, "We're here. We're yoga in the 21st century. " Classes switched quickly, people dashing out of class to make room for those flooding in. Quietly taking our places, the space filled with mostly women who meant business: lotus position, warming up, tight-fitting yogatards meant for inversions. 

In walks the yoga instructor: a  tall, trim, 20+ man with blond hair and a strong presence. My instincts said, "He's ex Bikram for sure." Right when I'm thinking this, he starts warming up by doing hand stands and walking upside down. Show off. (Yes, I really did think this thought, but hey, I'm practicing "letting it be" by not cutting off thoughts, but allowing them to surface and be observed... show off). As we start following his instruction, we begin coming into Triangle Pose (Trikanasana), and he takes one look at all of us before shouting, "Wrong wrong wrong! Everyone, just come out of it and start over." I am now officially IRRITATED. My husband is snickering next to me. My mind is chattering, "Over-inflated ego, uncaring, humiliating, Iyengar or Bikram asana Nazi." Blah blah blah, my mind keeps saying. So much for chaining down the wild monkey mind that is supposed to help me focus. I am not feeling "here", nor "21st century", but in some kind of yoga gulag. 

Somewhere in the midst of the practice, I let these thoughts go. I see that some people are getting something out of the time, especially the particularly flexible Asian girl who has managed to grab hold of  her foot while reaching overhead and behind herself into a barely-held Pigeon Pose (Kapotasana).  She achieved it because he pushed her, and now she's straining to hold it. I am worried that she's going to tear something, and apparently she is too, because she asks the teacher how she can hold this posture more comfortably. He doesn't answer her question to her satisfaction, so I whisper, "Use a strap, and work your hands down slowly while breathing." Maybe some people need the verbal challenge to help make steps forward. I make a commitment to stop judging him. Or at least, to stop judging him after I stop laughing.

My husband found this teacher's style amusing and motivating; I found him more discouraging and irritating. There are many styles for many different kinds of people. We talked about this teacher for the next hour or two. I recognized that maybe -- just maybe, it's more important to be remembered for how a teacher makes you feel than for the yoga asana practice itself. 

So back to my original post: finding a practice. Find one that makes you feel loved. As dumb or as simple as that sounds, this is the practice that will have you coming back, week after week, day after day. It's the one that helps you feel loved from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Some of that love is going to be transmitted from a caring, authentic, and transparent instructor. He or she can walk into the room on his hands or his feet, but as long as he connects with you and your humanity, he's going to put you into a practice that makes you feel wonderful in your body. 

The right practice for you isn't the one where you have to be "good" at it to take part in it. It's the one where the teacher helps you discover that you are already good, and things are coming together as you gather more body knowledge of the practice. 

I am aware that this kind of language flies in the face of conservative mainstream religion, which teaches that we are born with a sinful nature. For a moment, I ask my readers who come from that direction to withhold judgment and consider that much of our daily experience can be saturated with feelings of inadequacy and guilt. To encounter ONE thing that you do, where it is understood from the get-go, "You are already good at this" is refreshing and revolutionary. 

If yoga can be that one thing, we can let go of the thought, "I'm not very good at yoga", and just enjoy the ride. Even if the ride includes a Triangle Pose with a slightly bent front knee, a not-very-rolled back hip, and an untucked pelvic bowl.

My First Yoga Class: a tale of sight, sound, and smell?

In my first blog post, I mentioned that I would share with you all some funny "yoga blunders". And when I wrote that thought, I didn't even know what I wanted to share. Most of my stories are just painfully embarrassing, like on the level of walking into a board room with nothing on but a pair of bowling shoes. But since I asked you to talk about your first yoga class, I'll tell you about mine, and maybe you'll be consoled that yours was either not as bad, or far worse. You'll have a lovely point of comparison for your noodle to contemplate.

In the fall of 2000, I found myself living in a new neighborhood, with a tight budget, a smaller room to live in, and a body that was needing something gentle to help deal with stress. Having been taught from an early age that you only have one body and you only have your health to help you move forward through adversity, I plunked down a large chunk of change on a fitness membership at Sound Mind and Body Gym in Fremont, and because that was all I could afford, I took all the included classes that I could at that location, including a yoga class. 

Curious about yoga for sometime but clearly uninitiated, I signed up for an early Saturday morning class. Images of relaxation, watching the boats float through the channel, and connecting with new people baited me into this weekend class instead of sleeping in or grabbing a croissant at a local bakery. I made it a point to wear my best fitness clothes, shower, and arrive a little early so I could figure out what all those props were for: straps, blocks, mat, rollers, bolsters, etc.  I didn't want to look badly next to some mid-life ladies that I thought were sure to be in this class. 

I had forgotten that yoga wasn't just for the ladies. Sure enough, about a quarter of that morning's class were men! No problem, I thought. We're not going to sweat much, everyone has their own mat, this is going to be easy cheesy peasy. 

Wrong again. Half way through the class, the female instructor asks us to pair up with someone we don't know, and assist each other in a supported Downward Facing Dog (Ardha Mukhta Svanasana). A rather friendly middle aged man points at me, indicating that we should partner up. My smile is saying, "Sure!" but my brain is saying, "Wait! Isn't that the pose where your butt is in the air? And the teacher wants me to put my hands where?" Down my partner goes, down down down into Downward Facing Dog, and up up up goes his bottom, up into the air where I realize that there is a particular smell emitting from this friendly man. It is not so much the smell of underarm odor, but more like the smell of someone who has been freshly loved. Being that I was going through a time of not being freshly loved by anyone, I was assaulted not only with this scent, but also the reminder of my aloneness. And of course, I had to put my hands on his hips and pull backwards, to assist him to sit his weight further into his heels, which forced me to place the front of my body nearer to that rear end in the air. 

After what seemed like an eternity, the instructor asked us to switch roles. I tried using the "I'm a beginner, I don't know what to do" excuse, but he wouldn't have it, and the next thing I know, I'm pressing my own bottom up up up into the air, and a pair of warm hands are pulling back on my hips to help me sit back into my heels. Suddenly I realized that the soreness in my upper body, particularly between my shoulder blades, stopped throbbing. I let go of the stiffness of being touched by a stranger, and surrendered into his counterbalance because he had demonstrated that he could be trusted (even though his scent of being freshly loved was still lingering).  I let go of my self-consciousness, especially that part about appearances (it was trying to tell me that the tag from my underwear was probably slipping out the top of my exercise pants, but I told that voice to please shut up for a moment). And I looked around the world in my first inversion, and watched the largest cruise ship slip by the window, so close to the edges that I thought that parts of the ship would shatter it. 

In that moment, I experienced the asana of yoga as that of being freshly loved.

Yoga Begets More Yoga - finding a yoga practice

Soleil of Phoenix Rising Yoga Therapy addressed a room of fresh-faced yoga instructors at Maya Studio in Fremont yesterday for the first "Meet Play Learn" workshop. One thing I learned from participating in this newly formed group is that Seattle has a lot of studios and there is a lot of yoga happening, but we are nowhere near saturated. There are so many stories of people looking to try yoga in their neighborhood, and walking by a studio without even realizing it's there, and maybe has been there, for three years. 

I think part of the problem in finding a yoga practice is that we are on information overload and compressed time management. Just shout, "Yoga!" and someone will throw a sticky mat at you. It's become such a huge industry in the past five years that companies like Wal Mart and Target have profited off of a "yoga-in-a-box" mentality. On the one hand, there is something good about that: making yoga accessible to the average wage earner. On the other hand, there is nothing like having an instructor open this world of yoga up to you, and a DVD can only take you so far.  When we walk down the street, we're no longer really paying attention to the signs and sandwich boards. We're on our cell phones, listening to our iPods, or running errands on our lunch breaks.  We simply do not see what is there, and as instructors and studio owners, we're not always doing the best job of letting you know we're here.

These are some of the reasons I started thinking about yoga practice "outside the box". Instead of the big studio, I market yoga to the small group  and the corporate setting. Instead of big dance classes and bigger dance studio rental fees that get passed onto the student, I  focus on private and semi-private lessons, and teach bellydance fitness in bigger studios that did not pass the cost of studio rental onto the instructor.  In essence, we bring yoga and dance down to earth, make it more available, accessible, and affordable. 

One of the arms of availability is through the Internet and the blog world. After at least a half dozen friends encouraging me to blog, I came up with "The Wired Yogini" to create a community of openness, inquiry, and learning. I hope you'll bookmark this space and come back for a visit. Say hello and feel free to post questions as my readership builds. 

Please feel free to share websites and resource pages that you feel this community would like to know about. For the local Seattle community, check out this little gem:

www.communityfitness.com 

This fairly new movement studio provides affordable meditation, dance classes, Nia, Pilates, yoga, and bellyance fitness in a 50-minute format (versus the usual 1.5 hr format of many movement classes). Each class is $6.50 (tax included), with a $10 set up fee and NO MEMBERSHIP DUES. 

Finally, I have a question for all visitors. What components make the perfect yoga practice for you? If you have never been in a yoga class, what elements would make you more likely to visit a class? 

Next, I'll share with you some of my "yoga blunders", a verbal account of bloopers and fun stuff to make you laugh.