Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Into a new chapter...


I have often spoken and written about how becoming a teacher was an unlikely choice for me. As a young person, I wanted to be a writer-not a classroom-bound servant teaching day after day within the same hard and spiritless walls that I became familiar with as a student. I was adamant and pointed in disqualifying the teaching vocation as my own. Yet all these years later, each time I am asked, “What do you do?” I hear myself respond, “I teach.” And nothing has ever felt truer or more fulfilling.
Memories of wanting to turn away from teaching either through disdain or exhaustion are still fresh in my mind and bare witness to a tug-of-war, a dance between instinct and self-doubt, that I have come to know as a passionate calling. For I cannot imagine myself as anything other than a teacher, although not the kind of institutionally defined teacher I once feared, but something else. I have become, unexpectedly, a more creative, balanced and giving individual.
I have come to realize that teaching is not about disseminating information, or even informing. It’s about knowledge– about knowing oneself. Author, teacher, and social leader Parker Palmer writes that teaching is at the same time a painfully intimate and public endeavor that, “As I teach, I project the condition of my soul onto my students, my subject, and our way of being together.” It is from this place that I endeavor to take the next step on my journey to both know myself better and open up to an experience of joyfully “projecting” my soul into the world in a way that may be of service to those who are willing to share in it with me. It is from this place that I sit writing today, knowing that my offering is deeply personal and ultimately universal.

For the past 15 years I have been teaching students how to move well, live well, and thrive in their bodies. My classroom has been the non-traditional kind. In the studio I have been a teacher, mentor, confidant, daughter, mother, guide, leader, practitioner, and therapist, but my intention has always been to bring myself fully to every interaction, every movement, question, and thread of resistance or fear. My subject matter ranges from dance, to Pilates, to yoga, to Feldenkrais, to meditation; my students from seven to 85 years old. My journey has been painful, challenging, rewarding, insightful and infinitely humbling. Through the trials of owning and operating two movement studios, developing curriculum for teachers in advanced movement studies and anatomy, to leading retreats, and most recently publishing a book on teaching, I have come to see teaching as a direct line to myself and the way in which I can bring good into the world – even though I find it one of the most difficult undertakings I have ever attempted.

The Contemplative Education Master’s program at Naropa is where I can be drawn further down the path of not only mindfully educating, but also skillfully teaching and living. It has been my hope for the past two years to commit to the program and yet the demands of my life and my business have prevented me from doing so. This past year I have taken time to transition out of owning my studio in order to focus my efforts as the Director of Education as well as to pursue my desire to mentor, coach and provide continuing education for teachers across many movement fields.

As my teaching has evolved, my view of the skillfulness it requires has broadened immensely. In the fast growing field of Pilates, yoga and other alternative movement therapies I have seen more and more teachers take flight without even a single ounce of awareness as to the kind of teacher they want to be, the intention they bring to their teaching, or the values that create the foundation of their teaching. As I have watched teachers across disciplines and been a student I have come to see that in this profession, particularly we are lacking a fundamental level of training, that of self-awareness and mindfulness, the principle tools necessary for relating to both our subject matter and our students that reaches beyond technique alone.

It is to this end that I hope to integrate my studies at Naropa into developing continuing education for movement professionals. My current endeavor is a project called Skillful Teaching. It is designed as a resource for teachers of different modalities to delve into areas of teaching that promote longevity, authenticity, creativity, and sustainability. My goal in the next two years is to enhance the curriculum by including a mindfulness practice component as well as craft retreats that promote, teach, and nurture the teacher rather than the technique.

Although this does not equate to the sum of my reasons for wanting to attend the Contemplative Ed. MA at Naropa, it does demonstrate the value of the curriculum for me professionally. In truth, I want to attend Naropa as much for what it will bring to my work as what it may bring to my personal journey.

My dearest friend of more than 25 years recently scoffed at my desire to go back to school. He said “Master’s degrees are for people with real jobs who need to get promoted.” I thought this coming from someone with three advanced degrees-who works for himself-was an interesting, if not, somewhat lacking line of deduction. And yet it did make me pause and question. I love the freedom and creativity of entrepreneurship and cannot imagine myself in any other professional capacity. Was it true that making an investment like this would be a foolish waste of time? Would it be useful to me, make me more money?  Would it allow for greater clout or credibility? Maybe. Likely. If I was strategic and mindful then, the answer was probably, yes.

It turns out those questions were not the ones to reveal the real answer.  In fact, it was the knowledge that those outcomes were not why I wanted to go back to school that solidified my resolve. What I felt when I asked myself if this was the right choice was my heart and spirit need this. To be wrapped in the study and practice of wisdom practices and to explore how to be a thoughtful practitioner as well as educator…I cannot think of anything more rewarding or satisfying. The breadth of the course work, the intention I have witnessed in the professorial staff, the foundation from which the university is built all demonstrate to me what I would hope most for an education. When I think about attending Naropa, I think what a gift it is to have this opportunity and what it means to be able to fully integrate my life and my work into a meaningful and authentic whole.

During my time at Naropa, I hope to know myself better, to know my world better and to better equip myself with the patience, compassion and skillfulness to be of service through teaching. In whatever forms my teaching takes place, I am honored to be able to do it, to share, to perhaps add to a life, to extend kindness to the difficult process of living and learning, and to remain open.

I am grateful for the chance to be a part of the Contemplative Education Masters, and to further express my work with integrity through the guidance and insights of the program’s staff and students.


Supplemental Application Questions:

Describe your previous and current teaching experience. If you are a non-teacher, how do you foresee this program contributing to your work and life?

My previous teaching experience has been addressed in the prior essay, but I will now speak to my current situation. For the past five years, I have been involved in training Pilates and yoga teachers in formal certificate programs as well as in supplemental education ranging from functional anatomy, teaching and business skills to advanced studies in manual therapy techniques and other advanced studies topics such as planning, programming, communication, relationship building, motivational interviewing, and mindfulness techniques.

Most of my current teaching is performed in a group format both in person and remotely via phone, email, and video. I offer workshops that run two hours to three days as well as host periodic retreats for teachers. My primary focus during this period has been on teaching teachers how to be great teachers not just great technicians.

I have maintained a private client base and a weekly teaching schedule working with people ranging in age and ability.   In the past two years, I have developed an extensive mentoring program within my own Pilates studio and am currently working with other studio owners to plan, create and implement similar programs.

Describe your academic background in the areas of child and human development.
I do not have any formal training in child or human development outside of what was covered in my undergraduate studies at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo and Sonoma State.  Of course I have the honor of being mother to a beautiful, bright, and highly empathetic seven-year-old son named Charlie. In so far as child and human development is concerned I can’t think of a more intense course than that laid out before a new parent.

Watching, learning, fumbling, and aching to understand the whys and why not’s of my child’s behavior-and my own and my husband’s-offered an opportunity for me to not only better learn how children develop, but how we as parents adapt and how our personal evolution affects our offspring. From nutrition and brain development, to motor learning and reflexes, from language acquisition and skills integration, to self-identification and emotional expression, being a parent has taught me that the process of becoming a healthy and well-functioning human being is both a complex and messy business. Perhaps that is not adequate to replace a college course, yet it feels relevant enough to the task. In my day-to-day teaching I find my experience as a mother to be a bottomless pool of material I can utilize for successfully strategizing and adapting. After all, following two years of sleep deprivation and the myriad of other emotional, psychological and physical speed bumps teaching seems a breeze most days.

On the other hand, I have also studied Buddhist psychology and had a great deal of experience working with and studying Motivational Interviewing, transformational teaching, student-centered teaching and learning, the four stages of competence, and the stages of mastery as well as other teaching/learning modalities relative to movement. Those include: movement integration theory, embodied function, and the use of imagery and metaphor in movement re-education. I have also studied and collaborated with Body Brain Connect founder, Anne Bishop, exploring the somatosensory cortex and its role in movement/motor learning.

What is your background in mindfulness meditation?
Meditation has been a part of my life on and off since I was in my early twenties, but it was not until after I had my son and opened my second business that I truly felt the value of the practice in my life. I know meditation not as a temporary fix, but a way of life that offered real grounding and a true equanimity. In these past seven years I have maneuvered through significant financial and relationship strains along side the tremendous weight of work obligations and modern business. And what I know about myself is that I am better when I take my seat.

I have studied Vipasan meditation at Spirit Rock Meditation center in Fairfax, California, with teachers such as Phillip Moffitt, Jack Kornfield, and Sharda Rogel. I have also studied the Shambhala lineage with Susan Piver both at Shambhala Mountain Center and through her Open Heart Project. My studies have also included some of the writings of Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, most thoroughly “Shambhala: The Sacred Path of the Warrior.” 

My mediation practice has also extended to the practice of Authentic Movement and other movement meditation techniques. Last year, I had the great pleasure of creating and teaching an eight-week movement meditation class for students and teachers in Sebastopol, California. I am currently practicing five days a week.

Monday, January 7, 2013

New Year thoughts


January 7, 2013... a new year. Reprieve from all of the doomsayers and their frenzy of darkness and demise. The End didn't come for the world as so many thought, but it did come for a few on their own appointed day. Death, so much a part of life, yet so feared and lamented over.

I've been reading a book by Thich Nhat Hanh called The Miracle of Mindfulness. In it there is a place where he discusses his early days as a young monk in Vietnam. One of the assignments he was given was to watch and meditate over a corpse. Initially the squeamish reality was a distraction, but with time the young monks saw death as simply an event in the cycle of living. Too often we want to cling to life and run from death.

No one can say that the pain of losing a loved one is not going to hurt... it will and it does. Loss is suppose to hurt. It is in our attachment to living that the pain arises. The great Buddha said that we can quell the pain of life only by learning to free ourselves from such attachments. So how does one free one's self form the attachment to living? And does this free us from the sting of death and loss?

I believe the answer for me (at this moment in my life's journey) is that the concept of tragic loss is a resident of my conscious mind. It is a fear of something future, bathed in something past.  But is it really here and now? No. It is the act of thinking "death" that the conscious mind pursues something intangible and out of reach. But the key is not to run and hide from the thought, or, in time, the reality. I believe the answer is in simply accepting and submitting to the concept in the three time periods... past present and future. Realizing that reality is only now. I was sad, I am sad, and I will be sad... and I acknowledge and honor its significance in my life NOW. Knowing that, the pains of life become a part of life, and we can strive to release attachment to them. We can see that these hurts are egocentric in their origin, and by nature seek to pull us away from the essence of good that we are created for. By offering sadness and loss up to creation we are fully human. By crying we are real.

Every new moment, like every new year, offers the hope of moments to come. In those moments to come are opportunities to love and create. It is this thought, this conscious effort, that will best honor fear, sadness and loss.

As the new moments arise, I wish for my Three Friends Sitting the most numinous and prosperous thoughts and blessings. In return I will reap the joys of your heart in ways yet unseen.

For the world out there I bequeath light and prayers in the face of darkness and demise. And from that I shall reap hope... and there too, joys yet spoken.

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Delicious Life

Last night we made caraway coleslaw and turkey burgers. It was such a triumphant moment when the first bite of the slaw revealed true deliciousness. Oh, yummy. Toasted caraway, cabbage, kale, onion, cayenne, a light and tangy dressing. Delicious success.

A simple meal, fresh and clean nurtures me. A cup of rich coffee nurtures me. A moment in quiet reflection nurtures me. Taking time to just breathe nurtures me. Lying close to my son, gazing in his eyes, or at his sleeping face nurtures me. Sinking deeply into my body nurtures me. Not multi-tasing nurtures me. Yoga nurtures me. Writing nurtures me. Walking instead of driving to the studio nurtures me. A walk with a friend nurtures me. Extending kindness to a stranger nurtures me. Smiling at my sisters nurtures me. Hearing them and allowing them to be who they are nurtures me. Being honest and authentic nurtures me. Giving nurtures me. Letting go nurtures me.

May I allow myself to be nurtured, to take the opportunity over and over again to be cradled loosely by the beauty of life as it is, perfect, in this moment. In this moment. And this one...

May you be nurtured by every word you speak and write and think. May we all be nurtured by allowing our humanness to be exactly as it is, imperfect, out of control, intensely troubling and simultaneously a tsunami of brilliance. May we stay humble. May we stay in beginner's mind, child-like and infinitely wise.

May I be filled with loving kindness today as I wrestle with my demons. May I be well. May I be free from all inner and outer dangers. May I rest in this moment, with grace, just as I am. May I be happy and truly free.

May you be filled with loving kindness.

May we all be nurtured by the thought that we are one, together risking everything and nothing to be fully present to our lives.

May we sit next to each other again and in the meantime share this sacred moment.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Moment to moment

Outside the wind howls. Winter has finally arrived. My precious mountains are finally receiving their winter coat of snowy fur. This weekend I will ride atop that snow on two sticks that give me more joy than a girl could wish for. This week, down here on the plains, I am walking through a blizzard of joy. Meditation has never been more important to me than now.

I am prone to fantasy. I can day dream all day long. My next bike vacation. My next extraordinary dinner. The conversations I want to have with Laurie, Donni, Dave, Erin, Janice and Fred. Where I should hang my storage unit in the garage. When I will travel to Colombia. What Rizzo will look like two years from now. These subtle fantasies and other discursive thoughts power me through mind-numbing days at work. My mind carries me far away from the report I need to write. I wallow in it.

Now a new layer of fantasy is joining the ranks and conspiring to unravel my sanity. But, that's what happens when you fall in love. You lose all perspective. Nothing seems more urgent than love. Nothing seems more necessary than surrounding yourself with that singular joy. Yes. I am falling in love. I haven't done this in years and never this way. Never with such clarity, purpose and freedom. Never with such harmony. But, my love, my sweet Bob, he lives far away. Fantasy is now filled with ache and longing, memory and passion. Meditation has never been more essential than now.

I need this practice and the time I take to give my breath a chance to breathe. My mind races. In meditation, I can rest. I give myself permission to relax body and mind and turn my attention to one simple task that has nothing to do with being in love, or pulling my snow tires out from the crawl space, or making tea. Those precious 12 minutes, sometimes 10, first thing each morning (most days - today I write!) are a gift.

As I learn to observe my mind and all its many circles, I discover peace. I discover the power of separating this self from these thoughts. I am not my fantasies. They are the clothes I wear, the mental fabric of searching for stability in what Chantill referred to as a "big beautiful mess."

This week, as I find myself skipping down future memory lanes, I try to catch myself. Pause. Breathe. Recall what task I'm ignoring as I ride wave after wave of sweet fantasy. Bob and I tell each other to just stay present. Stay grounded in the here and now. It is a challenge for us both, but it's a helpful reminder that we are on the same path.

We call each other warrior. Warrior Bob. Warrior Princess (yes, I am Xena). We are finding the courage to witness this emerging love and not let it carry us away. We return to this moment, enlivened by joy, hungry to taste it now and forever, and awake to the knowledge that nothing matters more than tuning into this breath. Moment to moment.


Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Living an integrated life

Chantil proposed an interesting topic this week: living an integrated life. I was hesitant only in my knowledge of the word “integrated” and how this word, in the context of our writing, had a narrow-specific meaning. Integration? Like folding yeast into dough or black children into a white school… what were we referring to? Carol clarified it for me by saying “do all aspects of our life line up with what is at the heart of our meditation.” Meditation is my Christian based form of contemplation; the idea of carrying that outward into the world is fundamental. But am I integrating spiritual practice with the rest of life? Good question.

Meditation… the quite mind, drifting through the universe like a sun lit particle in a still room. The journey of soul, the act of reverence, the act of submission that is an act of admission, the amalgamation of ethereal soul and the biology of flesh, blood and bone… or simply sitting. Placing ones self into the cosmos and melding to our unique understanding and interpretation of existence is for me the most incredible facet of existence. All my life I’ve been searching for depth and meaning, especially in the spiritual sense; and I value these spiritual convictions as essential to my soul’s journey. I am most alive when I feel solidarity with creation.

The journey of meditation begins for me with the ringing of a sacred bell. The reverberation and intonation remind me that sound too is an energy force wafting into the cosmos. My breath melds with the tone and I ride them both into silence. Allowing thoughts to dissipate, I give way to a focus on breathing and the physical sensation of relaxation. Often times I will imagine a sacred pitcher pouring a golden light over my head. As the liquid light slowly descends over every inch of my body tension washes away. Until I feel no sensation other than a grounding, and a calming peace. I feel apart of something I cannot physically see. It is often euphoric but just as often a battle to prohibit a busy mind from wondering into thought. Here, after some time in a thoughtless stage I go to what I call prayer, an act of communicating with the higher unseen power… creation. I value this communication and have often seen its manifestation in my life and the lives of my people.

When the ending bell chimes and the silence ends, how do I take this event with me into the everyday world? Can I, and do I integrate it into the routine of my life? My answer is yes and I say this with some certainty. I can feel the foundation of my contemplative life in almost every thing I do. It’s a mindful act sometimes, but just as often it is habitual. That is why when I discovered the Buddhist philosophies I was so amazed at the innate truths that I had discovered without any indoctrination. It seemed to come natural. As often as it is good it is just as often negative. When I see the inherent weakness of my human nature, I also marvel at its resilience. I feel more “Godly,” more sacred in my interpretation of life when I see the melding of my spiritual life with every day life. And that includes all of the faults and weaknesses that come with being a 21st century man. It is as if those faults become the springboard for deepening the spiritual quest.

Yes my integrated life is a mixing of who I am spiritually with who I am as Alfred the farmer, counselor, rancher and modern man. For me it is the perpetual motion of living. Integrating soul with life… can it be any more beautiful?

Sunday, January 15, 2012

May I meet death in everyday

I read an article this morning by one of my most beloved teachers, Natalie Goldberg. She wrote about the New Year and about death. Today her words are the perfect match to my fear. Through her words I know her, am her, and I know how death is an ally when fear paralyzes.

I berate myself for fear. Surely someone else, perhaps everyone else, would be able to handle uncertainty with more grace and ease than me. Surely I am over-dramatic and make everything into more than it is. Surely I am flawed and should be fixed. Surely...

I listen, and sit amazed at the voice that arises out of fear and uncertainty. I am astounded by the strength of it yet slip it on seamlessly. It's familiar enough, that inner voice -- critic and executioner. And although I can name her and know that she is a part of me, my darkness, her weight does not lessen.

Death is my friend in moments like these. Death and the reminder that death is ultimately mine frees me of grasping. For what else loosens our grasp more than death itself.

When I reflect on our impermanence it's like I become the blithe and laughing child I once was. I picture myself perched high up on a rocky ledge laughing, legs dangling, looking down on the grown-up me, light hearted and carefree with the knowledge that it's just a little thing, how silly I am to let it take me out life's joy. All of the sudden the paradigm shifts, a telescope swings to sight a whole new universe, one where the colors are bright and fiery, stars wiz past, explode, are born, and there is harmony, flowing, dancing no matter the bumping and colliding. All of it is just as it is meant to be. A big beautiful mess. I let go. I simply am. I know it for the precious, fleeting gift it is, and I don't want to miss any of it.

So how could I spend my life letting fear dictate? I do because I have an ego, I have a story and am conditioned well to live out past pain and projected failing. But not always. Not always. That's my grace.

Sitting in the wake of imagined disaster and failure, reflecting on the end of life makes this moment so much more tender and honest, so much more open. This is what remembering death offers. This moment will never come again, never like this. Ever. So I ask myself what do I choose to make of it? This is my practice of being awake. Can I see that the gift is just being alive to have the experience?

I'm working on it.

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Rendezvous

I am meant for the new year. Designed for rebirth. The changing over of time, walking through the fire of transition is what I seem built for -- a spirit put into action by the promise of shed skin, sunrise, awakening, the giddy anticipation of all that is to come.

Even as December dawns, something essential and intuitive is released in my veins, pumping like opium, unleashing the dark and beautiful beast of future joy and pain mingled, the everlasting sign of change, growth, and creation. I crave it, need it like breath.

I am sitting still at the last. Watching. Something sacred. A mirror of life lived, cradled in the breaking of another moment, infinite and temporary, together weaving the eternal picture. Now as the sun breaks over nearby rooftops, radiant light against the rough, new-formed diamond of my heart, I am exposed to the shards of existence.

Would that I could bottle this for each day that opens. For you, my son, my love, for every life. And yet I see this spark shining from unexpected eyes, from unanticipated meetings, and know it for what it is. Infinite potential. Everywhere in everyone if only I am willing to see it.

And I wonder...perhaps the new year is just an unwholesome attachment to the inner landscape of my life -- to look inward rather than outward. Outward facing I see things that take constant care, relentless tending. In here I get to settle into the solitude of only my voice. In here I always get my way. I don't have to decipher my voice from theirs, my will from the world's. It is a place I want to be when I am most other places and I do see the folly in that. Yet, I cannot lie about it. It's a reminder that I am flawed and rankled with humanity. In fact, I love it, love to say it, feel it, be in it, wear it, my happy and guilty proclamation.

To read, write, sit and be still more often than not, is heaven divined. Like a silk thread that weaves its way between the homespun fibers of the rest of it. I am satisfied.

So, I am ready for this midnight rendezvous. I will put on my tender openness and bring it to the party, meeting friends I've traveled with this past year: fear, love, willingness, surrender, joy and gratitude. I will even invite the wall flowers to dance: reluctance, hesitancy, defensiveness, pain, resentment. Oh, dear there are a lot of them. But I must beckon them all along so the whole is retained, dark and light, like the time traveler who's pieces are dictated to follow lest he become shards of matter and nothingness.

And as with every year, my greatest hope is to remember this fresh willingness every morning I wake.

May we revel in newness with each passing day.

With loving-kindness,
Chantill