People still find it surprising, sometimes outright shocked, that Eve the Yoga Teacher was married to Derryn Hinch. To some, he was simply a shock jock, an iconoclast. Someone once told me that they’d always assumed he was a chauvinist — which was the complete opposite of how I experienced him. Our romance faded decades before he died, but he never stopped being, to me, lovable, and a good man.
Yoga teachers are not very good at making boundaries regarding their role of teacher and/or friend. Especially when students show up as charming as Peter Nixon. He hadn't been coming to class for very long before he asked if I'd like to have dinner with him...
International Yoga Day has come and gone–a wonderful time to reflect on the contributions yoga has made in our lives.
Even though International Yoga Day is a worldwide event, in all my decades of teaching, I seemed not to have gotten around to celebrating it. As I am semi-retired now, it occurred to me that this year I would put on an event at the Yoga Shed to draw our community together and to remind ourselves of the gift of yoga.
One golden nugget that I’ve discovered about being old, along with my energy reduced and my brain slowing, is that I have more time to think. I can arrive at solutions that resonate with what I feel or believe. I can be less reactionary. I don’t have to have answers, and I can just listen, without forming responses.
It’s such a simple thing for us to do when we’re out walking and see an old person, to pause, make eye contact, smile and give a nod.
Ultimately, we are looking at our future. For some of us, it’s already here.
I’ve been away from blogging for quite a while, except for a few friends’ obituaries that I felt compelled to write. But now I’m back to write on a subject that is very here and now for me and been on my mind for a long time.
Aging, and all the baggage that goes with it is a common topic of conversation in the circles in which I move, one which I tire of.
Are you, too, dear reader, tired of it?
It’s likely I will never know the right thing to say. And maybe just sitting with the awful unfairness of dying and death and opening the heart is a useful pre-verbal stage. Especially if there is nothing to be said in the disconsolate face of grief.
I’m present to the often-overlooked component of successful classes, that is, the magic that can happen when people gather in community. Why overlooked? It’s like the water a fish swims in, invisible, but all-encompassing. When you are part of a healthy community, you feel included and look forward to regularly meeting up with others.
Motion is lotion Lately, I’ve been reading articles about the key predictors of longevity. Mobility consistently ranks near the top. It’s essential for maintaining the body’s ability to perform everyday activities—walking comfortably, getting up and down with ease,...
I have several important needs at age 80 that are not covered by yoga. Or, they are covered to a certain degree but not entirely.
Some of the areas I’m working to improve are: my sense of balance, ease of movement, coordination and strength.
My life, for the most part, happens within a beautiful bubble. I live on Mitchells Island, the boundaries of which are the mighty Manning River and the Pacific Ocean. There are many of us living happily in our safe bubbles along the Eastern seaboard of Australia, and other places, of course.
I’ve met the most fascinating humans through my chosen profession. But none of them more so than Billy O’Riordan who passed away this week.
Then an idea came to us. We could with great authority talk about the stages of yoga we’d traversed. These stages also represented our ageing process, starting as youth and now in our late 70’s. Once we landed on our workshop theme, the content evolved organically.
A beautiful light has gone out with the recent death of my old friend, Kerry Riley.
Kerry is the first of my close contemporaries who has died, so his death, even though we knew it was coming was a blow, a gut punch. We knew it was coming and hoped it wouldn’t. But eventually it did, and, from what his wife, Diane, has told me, it was time.
We human beings have a myriad of ways to identify ourselves. For my part, I am a mother. I am a sister. I am 160 cm. tall. I have two artificial hips. I have been practising yoga for 51 years. And so on.
Sadly, it is less common that even the people who are clearly old will identify themselves as old. Why is that? What are they waiting for? As a concession, someone might admit, yes, I’m getting older, as though landing on being old is always a little bit in the future.
A lovely man died yesterday—his demise spurred on by having been on kidney dialysis for some time.
I didn’t know him well; initially it was by virtue of his reputation as an Aboriginal elder, law man and artist. Millions of people across the globe viewed his art when the image of a giant Wandjina (Aboriginal spirit entity) that he designed was featured in the opening ceremony of the 2000 Sydney Olympic Games.
We have to be very discerning when seeking out elders. One giveaway of elderhood is the acceptance of age. No one wants to become infirm in body and mind but there’s a grace that comes with acceptance of wrinkles, grey and thinning hair and stiffening joints.
Yes, I think that a hallmark of an elder is acceptance of imperfection, one’s character flaws and personal failings. Foibles and follies when cooked in the cauldron of life experience can create something like wisdom.
I’m still in elder training, not that I’m not old enough. The thing that I’m learning and trying to practice is authenticity, speaking my mind, hopefully without doing any harm, and holding to values without being rigid. Performing yoga poses is easy compared to this late stage of focus. It takes perseverance to keep after the truth; it’s often still buried under conditioning and wanting to please.
The Incident Last week I had an accident with my car. Ironically I was pulling into Old Bar Automotive to get my registration check. The car was sporting four new tyres to help guarantee that my Kia would pass inspection. I missed the garage's dirt driveway by just...
There is much that we can be grateful for, even with the virus skulking in the background, but now moving more and more in the foreground.
It is my wish for myself and for you that we make it through these uncertain times holding each other in loving kindness. To me, this is the point of sitting in meditation and doing our yoga practices, isn’t it?
I heard a friend say today that she is happy this year is almost over and that next year has got to be better. Then, she added, ‘That’s what I said the year before, though.’ In my opinion, last year and the year before were not bad. This period forced upon me the realisation that I am not really in control. And that uncertainty is the only bedrock that we have and all our machinations will never change that fact.