Dirt Under My Nails

When you were a youngster, did you ever make mudpies?  I can still recall the satisfying sensation of slapping the soggy soil from one hand to the other, simply enjoying the feeling of wet mud on my hands (and pretty much everywhere else--sorry, mom).  

Maybe you never made mud pies, but you enjoy walking barefoot on the beach or grass, feeling the soft earth under your feet.  Maybe you enjoy running your fingers over tree bark during a nature walk, or inhaling the scent of a recent rainfall over natural terrain.  Or maybe, like me, you've transitioned your love of dirt into a passion for gardening.  Maybe, like me, you're planting bulbs for spring.

For 14 years, I lived in city dwellings and had to satisfy my cultivation itch with a few potted houseplants and stoop-front annuals in containers.  

6 years ago, I had the amazing fortune to move to a more suburban environment, and our landlord gave me carte blanche to cultivate the bit of earth out back that we share with our neighbors in the building (all of whom are thrilled to have more greens and flowers to gaze upon and smell in the warmer months as part of our home).

Maybe you're a gardener.  Maybe you have a gardener in your family or friend circle.  If so, you know a few things:  our backs frequently ache.  We talk to the plants (and they talk back--just because you can't *hear* them doesn't mean you don't listen).  We like getting dirty, and we are usually in a much better mood after spending an hour with our hands in the soil.

There are a few theories (and research to back them up) as to why gardening, nature walks, and time spent in physical contact with the earth are so therapeutic.  One factor is sunshine:  frequent and moderate exposure to the sun seems to have a profound effect on the brain's serotonin, the chemical responsible for helping us feel calm and contented.  This is why Seasonal Affective Disorder is so common in winter, when there is less sunlight and people spend more time indoors.

Another rather obvious factor is that (most) everyone enjoys the beauty of natural splendor.  If you are getting dirty, you're probably outside, and you're probably engaging in an enjoyable activity.  Chances are that your feet are in the sand or your hands are in the flowerbed because it's your "me" time, and you're engaging in self-care (while also caring for your environment, ideally).

One possibly surprising factor is the actual dirt, itself.  Soil contains loads of fun ingredients, including "Mycobacterium vaccae" (myco is the prefix for mushrooms, by the way, and maybe you've heard of how underground fungi can actually help plants communicate to one another--we truly know so little about the magic of plants).  This is a kind of soil microbe which is responsible for nourishing plants, and may have the added benefit of improving mental (and possibly physical) health.  According to gardeningknowhow.com, 

"The bacterium is found in soil and may stimulate serotonin production, which makes you relaxed and happier. Studies were conducted on cancer patients and they reported a better quality of life and less stress. Lack of serotonin has been linked to depression, anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder and bipolar problems. The bacterium appears to be a natural antidepressant in soil and has no adverse health effects. These antidepressant microbes in soil may be as easy to use as just playing in the dirt."

By simply touching the soil, you absorb some of these nutrients.  By eating food grown in soil, you *ingest* these nutrients (a concept heralded by Josh Axe in his book, "Eat Dirt").  

You can consume natural antidepressants by just getting some dirt under your nails (and/or in your mouth).  It's worth letting your manicure take a hit.  And nothing tastes better than food you grew yourself, if you have the space to do so.

Obviously, no one is suggesting that you toss your meds and therapy.  I certainly keep up my conventional health protocols.  And not everyone has a yard or even a stoop.  But maybe it wouldn't hurt to get a few succulents to whisper sweet nothings to.  My only warning is that this hobby tends to evolve into a lifestyle, and once you start it's unlikely you'll ever want to stop.

Resources:

https://www.gardeningknowhow.com/garden-how-to/soil-fertilizers/antidepressant-microbes-soil.htm#:~:text=The%20bacterium%20is%20found%20in,compulsive%20disorder%20and%20bipolar%20problems.

https://time.com/4888327/why-sunlight-is-so-good-for-you/

http://www.bbc.com/earth/story/20141111-plants-have-a-hidden-internet

https://draxe.com/nutrition/eating-dirt/

Sing Out

There have been very few years of my life when singing, particularly choral singing, was not a large part of my best-spent hours.  Like most young American children, I started singing in school, as part of basic elementary music education.  In fact, one of my earliest memories of school is a particular chorus rehearsal where, at age...six? I think?...I allowed my (constantly wandering) imagination to take control of my hands, and I began tenderly choreographing hand motions to accompany the music we were singing in class.  My teacher pulled me aside and asked me to show her what I was doing; she asked if we could please incorporate the hand movements I was inventing and teach them to the class.  Equal parts embarrassed (I was certain I was about to be reprimanded--again--for not following directions) and flattered, we did just that in the following rehearsal.  It was the beginning of what would become a lifelong love for performing theatre and song. 

As soon as I was old enough to be allowed to sing in my church choir, I joined.  I partook in every school musical I could squeeze into my schedule, and I sang in every chorus and choir my schools offered, going so far as to spend two high school seasons performing with the Connecticut Allstate chorus. 

Senior Year with the H.S. school Chamber Choir

Performing the National Anthem at graduation with my classmate

To say that singing was the single most important part of my primary education is not an understatement.  Yes, I am obviously grateful for my ability to read, write, perform simple mathematical functions, and all the other vital skills school teaches, but I am in the minority among career schoolteachers in that I did not love going to school each day as a child.  I was a weak student, easily distracted, frequently frustrated, and convinced that I was too dumb to even belong there (not a lot changed over 40 years on that front).  There was, however, one thing I excelled at.  There was one thing I loved to participate in, and I was beyond thrilled to attend class for, and that was singing.  If there hadn't been singing in school, I don't know how I would have survived.

Maybe you sing a little.  Maybe you've been in a choir.  Maybe you know what it feels like when you and dozens of other singers hold a note so beautiful, you can barely stand to keep singing it but daren't ever stop (until the conductor cuts you off).  Maybe you've felt the phenomenon of your many hearts literally synching beats as you perform together as one.  Maybe you know how blissfully happy it makes you feel, or how you learn to breathe a little better, stand a little taller, feel a little stronger after a few hours of communal warbling.

There is science behind all these feelings.  The studies are in.  Singing, especially choral singing, is GOOD for you. 

Except right now.  Right now, singing is dangerous.  Well, singing in your shower is fine.  Singing in your car is great.  But choral singing?  Large groups of people spraying their oral aerosols at high volume at large groups of people listening?  These are, according to our best information so far, too dangerous to engage in until further notice (probably until a vaccine).  

Until this past spring, part of my work as a schoolteacher included leading the upper school chorus at the small school where I was employed.  It was my favorite part of the week, meeting with my group of singers.  Much like my experience as a student, I lived for those few hours when I would hear their voices blend in harmony.  Heart pounding, arms waving, I and my students would drill, drill, drill our pieces into perfection and then perform them for eager families who had barely an inkling of what their children's potential for musical greatness was until they heard their voices lifted together in song.

Conducting students singing the National Anthem at Citifield--a literal dream come true

And then came Covid-19/Coronavirus/SARS-COV 2--whatever you want to call it.  The virus came.  The school where I was teaching, like everything else, was shut down.  We moved to 'remote learning' (online classes). 

From March to June, we sang through screens at home, like everyone else, and we did one of those virtual choir things (which sounded fantastic), like everyone else, and it was better than not singing at all.

And then I was given the news that I knew was coming.

I will not be teaching school chorus in September.  There might be no musical plays.  There will be little singing in the school.  There will probably be little singing in any schools, not for a while.  Standing shoulder to shoulder and spraying our breath about for a crowded auditorium is simply too risky to engage in, and it's a hard pill to swallow.

I cried for a week.  I could barely listen to singing, much less practice it.  My voice fell silent while I mourned.

My earliest and happiest school memories are from singing.  If we can't sing in the schools, I don't know how anyone is supposed to muddle through the rest of the hours, because the hours spent singing in schools are the best hours of them all.  They are the hours that sustain the kids (and teachers) who, like me, are just marking time from day to day until the moments when we can breathe deep, stand tall, synch heartbeats, and sing together.  I can't bear to imagine going to a school where there is no singing.  I'm grateful I don't have to (I got a nice job at a nice grocery store where I sing quietly into my mask while stocking bananas).  A school with no singing is a place I'd rather not be.

But mourning must end.  Singing is good for us.  We mustn't stop singing.  So what are we to do? 

We can keep singing in the shower and in the car.  Never stop singing in the shower and in the car.  We can sing with our families.  And we can, in a way, still sing together.  Since March, a Maine organization has been hosting an ongoing 'quarantine karaoke' via their Facebook group.  And if you're really hungering for choral singing, while it is decidedly not the same thing, there are a growing number of virtual choirs anyone can join so that you can hear your voice blend with dozens of people you've never met before.  Now, as much as ever, is a time to adapt.  

You can sing along with me, if you like (see video).  Just keep singing, because singing is good for you.  It's good for me.  It's good for us.  As long as we maintain our distance to keep each other safe, we must keep singing. 

So, please, by all means, if you want to sing out, sing out.

(mobile users may have difficulty seeing the video embed, so here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v6chG6DXWys)

*edit:  I have recently learned that I was given inaccurate information -- there *will* be a chorus at the school where I was previously employed.  I suppose circumstances changed between June and August, as they are wont to do.  I still stand by my writing, as it reflects my truth at the time I wrote it.  Best wishes to all music teachers as they navigate this year's process.

"Pizza" By Any Other Name

If you've read my early blog posts, you know that I'm allergic or intolerant to every key ingredient in pizza: dairy, wheat, and tomatoes.  I have been, over the past year, testing out a few methods that might make it possible for me to consume something pizza-like, and I think I've finally nailed a decent facsimile.  When I posted my first 'pizza' attempt on Instagram (it was okay, but I wasn't wild about the crust), one of my followers suggested that I call it something different, as it was so far removed from what a pizza is.

I will continue to call it pizza, because I feel like after being deprived of dairy, wheat, and tomatoes, I should at least be allowed the simple pleasure of calling this thing I've concocted whatever I want to call it, even if it doesn't fit traditional confines.  Feel free to call yours a tasty food disc or whatever you like, but for simplicity and for the sense of feeling like I'm not a complete outsider in this food experience that so many other people consider part of a 'normal' life, I'm going to exercise my freedom of speech.

This is actually two recipes: one for the crust, and one for the 'marinara sauce'.  Let's do the sauce first.

I start with beets and carrots.  It's about this many (I'm not much for measuring).

some beets and some carrots.

Peel them, chop them up, and boil them until soft.

Peel

Chop

Boil

Then, you put the whole mess (water included) into a blender, and purée the heck out of it.  Put the blend back in your sauce pot, and season to taste.  If it's very runny, just simmer it until some of the moisture evaporates.

Add flavorings.  Probably include garlic.

I'm not going to tell you how to season your sauce, because I--A: didn't write down what I put in (definitely garlic, but, uh, how much?...) and I B: am from German descent and honestly have no business telling people how to make something taste Italian.  Look for some nice marinara sauce recipes online.  I bet there's a million.  I'm sure they'll tell you how to make it good.  Be aware that it will taste verrry much like beets and carrots.  You'll need to add a lot of magic spices to make it taste anything like tomato sauce, and in the end, it won't, really.  It will be a red purée of nice flavor that, if you squint and pour it over something like pasta or a pizza, you could convince yourself it's marinara-adjacent.

Sauce that is red!

Now for the crust.  Again, there are a bajillion great adapted crusts out there, using a variety of ingredients (did you know you can make pizza crust with cauliflower?).  I've learned, as I've had to eliminate most grains from my diet, that baking is not really the wizardry some people would have you believe.  Yes, if you're making a soufflé or a flan or something quite technically challenging, you should definitely follow instructions closely.  But for quickbreads, cookies, and crusts--baking is a pretty simple business.  You take dry ingredients and make them wet, and then you cook them until they're dry again.  The rest is just: how do you want it to taste/how fluffy do you want it/how dense, how dry, how crusty...all of this can be finagled with a little know-how (regarding how much egg/fat/baking powder, etc. you decide to use).  For this crust, I used *no* recipe, and made use of the ingredients *I* (a gluten-free/dairy-free baker) tend to use.  Lucky for all of us, I wrote everything down.  Feel free to substitute any part of this with pretty much anything remotely similar.  It will probably work.

Dry ingredients:

1/2 cup buckwheat flour

1/2 cup tapioca flour

1/2 cup quinoa flour

1/2 cup coconut flour

1/2 cup tigernut flour

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

Wet ingredients:

1/2 cup puréed spaghetti squash

2 eggs

1-2 cups water 

Start by mixing the dry ingredients, plus the squash (if you have some--I literally had some around, and I've been meaning to test out my theory that squash would make a good ingredient in quickbread recipes--it does!), and one egg.  

Add a cup of water, and as you mix it up, keep adding water until it reaches a nice, doughy consistency.  I warn you, it will NOT behave like pizza dough.  It will be more like gritty cake batter, but stickier.  Scoop this goo onto a pizza pan with a sheet of parchment paper on top.

Then, use a spreader to make a nice, round disc of sticky, flat dough.

Bake this at 350 (Fahrenheit) for 15 minutes.  Then, you'll be using the second egg to seal it before baking it a second time.  Just paint that egg all over the top of the crust.  This is a key step in many crusty recipes.  I use egg washes for sweet and savory pie crusts as well.  Bake the topless crust another 20 minutes.

Once your twice-baked crust is nice and crusty, layer on the 'marinara' sauce and your favorite toppings.  For the cheese, I use Daiya brand mozzerella.  It melts.  Sort of.  Again, if you squint and use your imagination, you can believe it's cheese-adjacent.

Bake this again (still at 350--going any hotter risks burning the crust) for about 30 minutes--and yep, this is a Hawaiian pizza.  I figure I've offended pizza-lovers so much already (you'll be appalled to hear that we ate these with forks and knives, because the crust, while delicious, is not structurally sound), why not go whole hog and throw pineapple and ham on this monstrosity.

Straight up delicious.  No joke.  Closest thing to a pizza I've eaten in literally years.  I hope you can find the joy for yourself that this disc of food items has brought to me.

The Sun Rose Today

A week ago, our school was talking seriously about the possibility of shutting the building.  Last Tuesday, we trained our students in the online platform we would use for remote learning.  On Wednesday, my 8th grade actors and I, who were preparing to open "Newsies" for April 1st, held our last rehearsal before the closure. Every time anyone discussed future plans, even as proximate as the following day, I would hesitate before uttering the word "tomorrow," grimly thinking to myself "If there is a tomorrow..."  I mean, of course there will be a tomorrow, but for the first time in my life, I genuinely didn't know what to expect each day.  We were told to bring everything home every night in case of an overnight announcement. The growing sense of uncertainty we've all been feeling over the last few weeks was surreal.  I remember turning to the pianist Wednesday evening, shrugging, and saying, "Well, we're here today."  We smiled, and we went on singing, dancing, complaining about how much our feet hurt, and pretending that everything was "normal".

Thursday was our last day in the building.

Now I'm socially distancing (I love this expression and will use it for the rest of my days) with everyone else, and I am actively experiencing a massive sense of gratitude that I am one of the lucky few who are able to work from home.  I am blessed to have a loving human and two furry friends in the apartment with me.  It's spring, and the weather is warming.  My plants are sprouting, and my fermentations are brewing in the kitchen.

We're here today.

Today the sun rose.  It will rise again tomorrow.  Tomorrow is miles away (sorry, Annie) and we can cross that bridge when we come to it.  We're here today, and the sun rose.

As long as the sun rises each day, I feel it is my civic duty as a citizen of planet Earth to salute it.  I invite anyone who would like to practice said salutations (and a few more poses) with me to practice along; I'll be making some follow-along yoga videos to help encourage others to develop an at-home practice for all of us with a little extra at-home time on our hands.

Please enjoy Asana Terra's YouTube debut:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kzhzSnLV-Xg&feature=youtu.be

Sauerkraut!

Maybe it's my love affair with sour and salty foods (I keep the pickle juice in my fridge after I've eaten the pickles just to take sips from the jar), or maybe it's my love affair with probiotics and fermentation (oh, hey, did you see my post about kombucha?) or maybe it's my German heritage, but I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't love sauerkraut.

Maybe you love sauerkraut, and maybe you don't yet know how different homemade sauerkraut tastes compared to commercially-made sauerkraut.  Even the 'best' store-bought krauts don't compare to what you can create in your own kitchen, and it's easier to pull off a successful batch than you (probably) think.

A good kraut starts, as all good things in life do, with a head of cabbage.  Fresher is better; older cabbage can come with hidden mold, which may wreck your whole batch, leading to sorrow.

You can use green cabbage or red cabbage.  I, personally, have found that the red cabbages are slightly less moist inside, which means a greater likelihood of supplementing your batch with some salt brine, but this is not a hard and fast rule, and it shouldn't stop you from enjoying the magic of a red kraut.  I'm actually going to turn this cabbage red at the end of this post, using the magic of beets.  But for now, it's a lovely green cabbage.  Time to slice it to shreds!

I use a standard chef's knife for this.  I find that mandoline slicers make a big mess of cabbage (though I do use one for the beets) and shred it a little too fine, anyhow.  This is far from the most labor-intensive part of the process (that's the smashing, and it's loads of fun).

Next, add salt.

Any salt will work, but I'm a salt snob, so only the Frenchest brand for me and my kraut will do.

I'm not a big one for measuring, so I just pour it until I feel like it's a good amount.  If you want a "recipe", this is a good one.  Don't skimp on the salt.  You can always rinse the kraut later (I recommend it, actually) before you move it to the fridge.

Next, comes the "fun" part.  The smashing.  I use a smasher that came with this nice fermentation kit for use with ball jars. 

Much like muddling (for all you bartenders out there), you just take the big stick and smash the dickens out of the cabbage.  This is a great way to get out your aggressions.  The cabbage will start to break down and release its juices (this is the secret to great kraut).  Eventually, you'll have to switch from smashing to smooshing.

You gotta really get in there and squeeze the heck out of the cabbage, getting as much brine out as you can.  The juicier, the better.

If you don't have enough brine to fill up and cover the cabbage when you go to put it in the jar, you can supplement with some homemade brine (basically, just boil some filtered water and add in a handful of salt.  Let cool until it's room temperature).

That's the basis of a sauerkraut, and these are the only ingredients necessary:  cabbage, salt, and smashing.

Because I'm fancy, I add a few more things (varies depending on my mood and the alignment of the planets).  In this case, I added capers, dill, and caraway seeds.

And shredded beets!

Mix everything together, and then, use the big smashing stick to really cram it in tight in a quart-sized ball jar (or 2, depending on the quantity of cabbage you started with).  Pour the brine in until it covers the cabbage fully.  I then use a glass weight to make sure the cabbage doesn't expand (it likes to do this).  

Finally, cap off your jar with an air-locking lid (I like the little silicone ones that come with the aforementioned kit) so that carbon dioxide can escape, but oxygen won't enter.  

kraut with beets

kraut without beets

Final step:  Let it sit in a cool, darkish place for three weeks.  Check periodically to make sure the brine hasn't evaporated (I keep a jar of salt water in my fridge to top off drying krauts).

After 3 weeks, I strain and rinse the kraut, move it to the fridge (in a new container) and then eat it literally EVERY DAY because I love it so.

A few things can cause kraut tragedy, and it happens to the best of us, but if you're conscientious, you can avoid a lot of problems by watching out for the following:

Mold.  If you see mold forming on the surface of your kraut, it *might* be okay--just scrape off the top and hopefully it doesn't spread throughout the batch.  Some people consider this a death knell, but I've salvaged a few moldy batches (and lost a few, too).

Oxidation.  If you don't have a good airlock on your jar, oxygen can get in to your batch and make it brown and icky.  Get a good airlock system.

Heat.  Kraut-making is traditionally an autumnal activity (cabbages are harvested in fall in northern climates).  It's most successful in temps of about 65-75 degrees.  In summer, I place ice packs around the jars to keep them from overheating.

Dehumidification.  Sometimes the brine will evaporate a bit, and that leaves exposed leaves on the top.  This can lead to oxidation and mold.  Keeping the entirety of your cabbage submerged in brine is the best way to keep problems at bay.

Is this the easiest thing in the world to do?  No.  But it's easy enough that it's worth it; I'm ruined for commercial kraut anymore.  It takes me about an hour to make a batch that lasts me 2-3 weeks, and I'm telling you, I eat a cup a day.  It's a small price to pay for the best fermented vegetables on the planet.

Happy kraut-making!

"I Can't Meditate"

Imagine a person meditating.  

You're probably picturing something like this:

Maybe you're imagining some props, or tools, to help a person achieve some zen.  Here's a crystal (amethyst), some sage, and Mala beads.  Look familiar?

Spoiler alert:  I wasn't meditating when I took that selfie.  I was thinking about how my face would look in the camera, if I was sitting straight, and whether the broken blind in the background was going to be a problem.  And while I do use various incenses for rituals and meditation, I also use it to make things smell nice.  The Mala gets a little action for mantra, and a little action as a necklace.  The crystal is my birthstone.  I've had it since childhood and it mostly collects dust on my filing cabinet while looking lovely.

None of this = meditation. 

A person can sit on a pillow surrounded by burning sage, hands in mudra, eyes closed, for hours and never actually be meditating.  Inversely, meditation sometimes looks nothing like what we imagine when we think of meditation.  Moreover, literally anyone can do it, and you're probably doing it without even knowing it.  How, you ask?  Well, I'll tell you.

Let's start by un-defining meditation.  Firstly, meditation is *not* (necessarily) "emptying your mind".  There's a reason Western practitioners have popularized the term "mindfulness".  Look at the word.  Your mind should be full (which is not the same as busy).  I've spoken to some people who find it difficult to "let their mind go blank".  One common reason for difficulty with this technique is that, A: it is hard, and B: it can trigger negative responses from past trauma.  For that reason, I wouldn't recommend it for most beginning meditators.  Yes, some meditators do like to try and find a state of relative freedom from thoughts, but that's only one style of meditating that might work for some people.

Meditation is also *not* a productivity tool (sorry, capitalist CEOs who think that mindfulness courses mean squeezing more tasks out of your already overburdened employees).  In fact, recent studies have revealed that meditation has the opposite effect.  Fun fact: if you teach people to get really in touch with their feelings and personal truths, they might discover that they don't find filling out forms in triplicate as fulfilling as you might think!  Bosses of the world: if you want to keep your cogs grinding along in their corporate wheel efficiently and without complaint, it's better not to help them become enlightened.  Keep those minds nice and dull, and you'll have a much better time oppressing the workforce.

So.

What is meditation?

According to Yoga International:

"Meditation is a precise technique for resting the mind and attaining a state of consciousness that is totally different from the normal waking state."

There's nothing there about sitting in lotus, or counting on beads.  There's nothing there about mudra fingers or closing eyes.  Of course, for many meditators, these particular methods can be helpful, but there's more than one way to pet a cat, and I'm going to give you some ideas that can help you bring meditation into your daily life.

1.  Go for a walk.  Seriously.  Just go for a walk by yourself.  Don't listen to music or audio.  Don't have a destination.  If you can, leave your phone at home.  If you can walk barefoot, even better.  As you walk, just pay attention to everything you see, smell, hear, and feel.  Stop any time you like.  Smell a flower.  Examine a rock.  Feel the wind on your face.  Don't like walking?  Run. Swim. Bike. But go outside for a while and move yourself gently in no particular direction with no particular intention.***

2.  Focus on an object.  You can do this sitting, standing, lying down.  You can play some quiet nondescript music if it helps.  Find some object to stare at (maybe an amethyst crystal, maybe a pink eraser) and just look at it.  Touch it.  Hold it.  Admire it.  Smell it.  Do that for 5 minutes. 

3.  Breathe.  (This one seems obvious, but seriously, people forget that this is a technique).  You can do this sitting, standing, lying down.  Practice various breath counts:  4 counts in, 4 counts out.  Try holding your breath in.  Try holding your breath out.  Focus on your breath and only your breath.  Do that for 5 minutes.  

4.  Mantra.  In Sanskrit, 'mantra' means 'liberation of the mind'.  In practice, it involves repeating a phrase (either out loud or in your mind) over and over again (traditionally 108 times).  You can choose a classic Sanskrit mantra, or make one up in English (also known as an 'affirmation').  One of my personal favorites is 'I am peace'.  You can do this while still or while in motion (like walking, for example).

Have you ever done one of these things (I bet you have)?  Then you're probably meditating already.  But the thing is, these techniques by themselves aren't meditation.  They are pathways to meditation.  The most important thing to do is to start paying attention.  Pay attention to your thoughts.  Don't try to hang on to them or push them away.  Notice them.  Give them only as much space as they need and then let them move on.  If you do run out of thoughts to think, start to notice your feelings.  Don't try to hang on to them or push them away.  Notice them.  Give them only as much space as they need and then let them move on.  See if you make any realizations while you're at it.  Maybe you will, and maybe you won't.  Do this until you feel at least a little more 'yourself' than you did before you started.

That's it.  That's meditation.  Will you reach the highest level of enlightenment by walking around your block or staring at a rock while counting breaths?  Maybe.  Probably not, though, and that's okay.  You'll reach some level of heightened awareness, and that's enough.  For now.

Be careful, though.  Once you start, it's hard to stop.  It's pretty addictive, and it feels dangerously delicious to walk around on this planet heavily meditated.

I highly recommend it.

Sources:  

https://yogainternational.com/article/view/the-real-meaning-of-meditation

https://medium.com/thrive-global/why-meditation-might-not-always-make-you-more-productive-dac156eb13d1

***Please do NOT try meditative open-water swimming alone, though!  (seems obvious, but it never hurts to be thorough)

Yoga for Runners

It's running season!

That's a bit of a joke, as it's always running season.  Much like yoga and bowling, running is the kind of sport an active person can keep up throughout the year.  If you're weather-adverse, there's always treadmills (but seriously, watch out for those things--one misstep and you're being flung across the fitness room for everyone to see), but a lot of runners enjoy the challenge of varying weather conditions.  To me, one of the nice things about running is that it gets you outside year-round.

Running, however, like most endurance sports, has its pitfalls--the most common health issues runners face is a variety of repetitive stress injuries.  I've not met a runner who hasn't dealt with at least one of the following:  shin splints, patellar tendonitis, plantar fasciitis, hamstring/calf pull, Achilles tendonitis, piriformis syndrome (to name a few -- for a little more insight, GQ--of all sources--has a decent piece on it here: https://www.gq.com/story/5-most-common-running-injuries).  The bad news is that 'curing' yourself of these conditions can take hours of physical therapy and might take you off the road for a few days or even weeks.  The good news is, they can be (to an extent) prevented with a little bit of daily prophylactic 'prehab' (namely, yoga).

Yes, dropping in on a weekly 1-hour class is a fantastic way to keep your chill and get a nice communal yogic experience, but doing simply 10-15 minutes a day of mindful stretching can keep those pegs pounding the pavement longer and farther with fewer injuries than a once-weekly stretch session.  If you're less familiar with yoga than running and unsure what you can do on your own, here are a few classic poses to support your running obsession--er--I mean, hobby.

Forward Fold -- Uttanasana

It's exactly what it sounds like.  You fold forward.  You don't have to touch your toes.  You don't have to touch anything.  Just fold. Things to keep in mind in forward fold:  keep your core engaged, and keep a slight bend in the knees.  If you want to deepen the stretch, think of lifting the hips higher to the sky, rather than pushing the knees back.  Maybe take this time to shake out your head gently and knock loose the tension that tends to build up in neck and shoulders.

Downward Facing Dog -- Adho Mukha Svanasana

This is possibly one of the most well-known yoga poses, and for good reason.  This will lengthen the muscles of the back, hamstrings, and calves.  Also, you get a (technical) inversion any time you put your heart above your head, giving blood a chance to circulate in a different relationship to gravity than usual.  Simply fold forward and walk either your feet back or your hands forward until you're in a nice triangle shape.  Hang out for a while.  Walk out your feet one at a time, and play around with picking up one leg to make 3-legged dog.  This is pose generates both power and restoration.

Pyramid -- Parsvattonasana

For this pose, simply place your one foot just under meter forward of your other foot (depending on leg length, this will be different for different people).  Back foot will be diagonal; front foot is pointing forward.  With a flat back, fold forward.  Hands can be on hips, touching the floor, or in any position you like, really.  I've chosen a reverse prayer position (Paschima Namaskarasana), which I find is helpful for opening the chest and releasing shoulder tightness.

Wide Legged Forward Fold -- Prasarita Padottonasana

It's exactly what it sounds like--spread your feet wide and fold forward.  Like the standard forward fold, you want to keep a slight bend in the knees and maintain a strong core.  Like the pyramid pose, there are a multitude of hand positions from which to choose.  Here you can see the reverse prayer from a better angle.

Crescent Lunge -- Anjeneyasana

You may want to place a blanket under your back knee for this pose.  You want to really think about keeping that back leg back, so that you can get a nice stretch in your psoas muscle (the one and only muscle that connects your torso to your legs, and it gets verrrrry tight on runners.)  Lift arms up and back while gazing at your thumbs.  Front knee should be steady and tracking toward the pinky toe side of the foot.

 Lizard Lunge -- Uttan Pristhasana

It's a little hard to see here, but both of my hands are to the inside of my front foot.  I've also heard this referred to as a "Spiderman" lunge.  I like to stay up on my hands for a bit to move around in my hips and dig into the aforementioned psoas.  For greater flexibility, you can lower yourself to one or both elbows, but keep the back knee lifted.

Pigeon -- Kapotasana 

One leg is extended out long behind, knee side down, while the other crosses in front of your body, diagonally or parallel to the front of the mat.  This pose has loads of variations, including the two pictured (backbend or forward fold).  This is a great pose for digging into the glutes, and, again, that psoas.  If you like to challenge quads and hamstrings, option to bend the back leg and grab the foot from the inside (arch) with the same hand (in this case, I'd pick up my left foot with my left hand and pull it toward my backside).

Lazy squat -- Malasana

This is a great pose to work on balance, grounding, and opening the hips.  You can add a twist (or even a bind) to work on torso strength, flexibility, and opening the chest & shoulders.  Also, it's simply fun and feels nice to do.  Try to keep your feet flat (rather than come up on your toes).  If you need support, you can do this inside an open door and grab onto the sides as you work your way down (and, eventually, back up).

There are at least 5 thousand more poses you could find to help you prepare for and recover from running, but hopefully this short list can help you get started on your path to being a running yogi, which is way cooler than being a non-yogic runner.

Keep calm, and run on!