twenty-two | practicing simplicity

Every Wednesday night I go to a yoga class - it's my mid-week reprieve, an opportunity to find space, rediscover patience and gain perspective. To begin my practice I lay with my legs up the wall in viparita karani, my arms wide, my eyes closed. And I let myself soften into the floor. My entire sadhana (spiritual practice) last week was about softening without effort. My teacher's words resonated so strongly:

"...if you had to stay where you were for 10 more breaths, what would you shift so you could be comfortable? What would you change if you had to stay here for 100 more breaths, or a lifetime of breaths?"

She was talking about being in an asana but she subtly hinted at the practice of life, too. What a beautiful question to pose to mothers; the women who live that role for now and forever - for the next 10 breaths and the next million.

What can you shift so you can be more comfortable, so the experience can be more enjoyable? 

Those words have been circling my mind since last Wednesday, coming to the forefront just when things start to get challenging. And I've shifted many things to make space and create opportunities, to quell tantrums and see things for what they are (and not what my emotions make them out to be). My experience as a work-from-home mother has benefited greatly as I've found a new way of integrating work and writing into family life - a very small change that has made a significant impact on my productivity, creativity and happiness. 

So: shift and change things around so you can be more comfortable. 

Take time this week to lie with your legs up the wall, if only for five minutes. Close your eyes, let out a few sighs and be still. It's one of the most rejuvenating practices you can do. This week we all need it more than ever. I hope you find a few minutes of calm amidst the crazy. 

nineteen | practicing simplicity

hydrangeas in abundance in my neighbours' gardens 

Living a less-distracted life : admit that you're tired and reclaim rest.

I know, I know; motherhood and rest rarely go together. We are a weary bunch, aren't we, running to and fro and round in circles. Despite our exhaustion we just keep going because we have to. 

Perhaps it's more pronounced at this time of year as we take a sharp inhalation and deal with the plethora of to-dos that accompany the festive season. My diary is quickly filling up with deadlines, the end of school term is fast approaching and I am completely disorganised in regards to Christmas. Yes, it's overwhelming and if I'm honest, there's just no time for early nights and afternoon kips right now. 

Che is tired, too. I kept him home from school on Friday for a rest day and he lulled about reading books, watching a movie and building lego. There was a part of me that wished I could do the same thing; ignore all the necessary chores and emails and just lie in bed; rejuvenating and being kind. I know I need it but I can't see it happening anytime soon. And so I started thinking about quick rests; little things I can do that will restore and revive. I mention them in my yoga classes all the time and yet applying them to my every day takes a little more discipline. But you know what, they work, and sometimes they're more beneficial that a deep day sleep (I usually wake up groggy and cranky and that is never good!). 

Next time you're feeling weary, try one of the following:

• drink water. It's usually at around 4:30 that I experience a slump and unfortunately it coincides with dinner prep. So every evening I stand at the kitchen window and drink a big glass of water. Within ten minutes I have the energy to get through the dinner, bath, bed routine.
• get outside. I've taken to lying on the trampoline and purposefully taking a few deep, nourishing breaths. I then let out loud sighs (much to the family's delight). Fresh air - always good.
• lie on your bed with your feet together and your knees out wide. This position is called supta budda konasana or reclining butterfly pose. If you feel that it stretches your groin too much just place a pillow or rolled blanket under your upper thighs. In this position become aware of your breath and focus on your exhalation for a few moments - you'll notice you start to grow heavy and soft and relaxed. Then, count your breath backwards from 27. "I am breathing in 27, I am breathing out 27, I am breathing in 26..." When you get to 0 start to awaken your body by wriggling your fingers and toes. Get up slowly and carry on with your day. This is also a great practice to do with older children. First, choose an item to place on the belly - a feather, a small teddy, a paper boat - and then encourage them to watch and feel the feather/teddy/boat rise and fall with the rhythm of the breath. 
• close your eyes whilst breastfeeding. I understand this isn't always possible if you've got more than one child but when breastfeeding my two I made a point of lying down to feed at least once a day. I'd put my phone away, get really comfortable and close my eyes. Sometimes I would sleep, sometimes five minutes of shut-eye was enough.

So: recognise your exhaustion and take five minutes rest. Consider it self-care. 

eighteen | practicing simplicity

Living a less-distracted life : when things get tough, come back to the simple.

At around this time every year I go through a phase of reflection; thinking about what has happened and how I've changed. It's like I need to evaluate before I move into the season of celebrations and resolutions.

For a number of reasons, 2013 has been a tough one for me. Nothing particularly shocking or sad, just busy, busy life and its challenges. And I don't think I'm alone in my struggle. Perhaps it's mothers the world over who are confronted by lack of time, growing children and pressing situations. In retrospect, this year has been so hard because it's been overwhelming; I've taken a lot on and sometimes it's been too much. There's been moments of regret and sometimes, shame; those not-so-nice things that stem from busyness and rushing and stress.

But in the midst of it all, I've also had the opportunity to stop and realise that it's not how I want to live and it's not how I want to raise my children. So, I'm prioritising myself and choosing to simplify life. That word, simplicity, has been a constant for me this year and I embrace it because it's good for me. It's good for my mind, for my body, for my home and for my family. It's what I come back to when things are getting out of hand. So what does it mean? For me, it's: 

• making boiled eggs and soldiers for dinner even if the kids have had the exact same meal for breakfast 
• leaving the mess of the house and going to the beach for an hour, even if a deadline is looming
• saying 'no' more often and not feeling guilty about it
• accepting that we live in a family home that is both messy and beautiful (and will always be messy and beautiful)
• admitting that the internet is a major distraction and I need to be mindful of how it seeps my time, energy and patience
• going to bed early, regardless of how much work needs to be done

...and the list goes on. 

Overall, being mindful of the present moment is perhaps the biggest factor in simplifying my life. It is the very essence of yoga; not getting caught up in what has been or what's to come, but being in the here and now, aware of how I'm breathing, what I'm thinking and the words I'm using. I don't do it all the time and yes, it's hard to maintain but I wholeheartedly believe it is good for me and subsequently, good for my family.

So: stop, take a deep breath, come to here and now and focus all of your energy and awareness on what you need to do right now. Simplifying is doing one thing with awareness instead of 10 things mindlessly. 

crying in cat stretch

There's no hiding on a yoga mat; no hiding from yourself.

Last night I managed to get to a class and as soon as I sat down I could feel my tiredness and my worry and my fear rushing to the surface. Everything that was pushed down came flooding out and...I just let it. I was crying in cat stretch and it looked like it had rained on my mat. 

Once standing and flowing through warrior sequence I was ok; I got out of my head and into my body and stayed there feeling grounded and strong. It was so good to get to a class as a student (with dirty fingerprints on my shirt and a tear-stained scarf around my neck). 

Afterwards, I welcomed ten pregnant women into the studio for a pre-natal practice. One woman, carrying her third baby, has been coming to my classes since she was 12weeks pregnant with her first. Just before I made my way to the front of the class I noticed a Peppa Pig sticker on her back. We laughed, talked about that piggy show and its beautiful values and then settled into stillness and quiet. 

Little Peppa made her way into the studio last night; the perfect metaphor for what we take onto the mat. When you do make it to a class, albeit after much organisation and perseverance, you carry everything in with you; your sore, tired body, your emotions (concern, fear, doubt, frustration), your thoughts and every. single. thing. that has happened in your day. As you practice, moving from gentle to dynamic asanas, you're given the opportunity to let it all go and to breathe it all out. And, if you do, you leave with a little more clarity, courage and gratitude. 

flower havan

1008 rose and camellia petals

A havan is a purifying fire ritual originating from India. An ancient practice, it is performed to invoke positive energy into our lives and the ether.

During the havan a mantra is chanted in the ancient Indian language of Sanskrit. Between each round the word swaha is spoken, and either earth, ghee, grains or herbs are thrown into the fire, along with an intention or affirmation. Swaha translates to mean I make this offering of my self. 108 mantras are chanted before the havan closes with a resounding ((((((((((((om))))))))))))))

But fire havans aren't particularly suited to indoors which is when a large glass bowl of water becomes the fire and flower petals become offerings. On Monday morning I walked into the yoga studio to find the remnants of a flower havan performed the night before. I was teaching a prenatal class and so it was apt that we practiced around this floral heart/blossoming womb. Before class began we each took a handful of petals, held them close to the heart and mentally repeated our intention or sankalpa (positive affirmation). We then threw the petals into the bowl, sending our good intention out into the universe; letting go and subsequently experiencing a sense of healing and calm.

................................................................................................................................. 

My own yoga practice has taken a backseat in the last few years; a common experience for a mother. Lately I've been thinking about priorities, recognising that nourishing my self is actually nourishing my whole family. My body is a little sore and my mind a little cloudy and I wholeheartedly believe that it's not a result of diet. I know I just need to stretch and bend and flow in a space where I am largely anonymous; where I am Jodi and not Mum - if only for 90minutes. 

I'm wondering, what are your priorities right now?

lilac & honey

sage tea to help dry up the milk / sweet floral clothes from printbebe

It's raining here today, for breakfast we ate porridge with maple syrup and banana and I can't see us getting out of our pyjamas for a good while yet. 

Slowly but surely my energy is returning and for the first time in months I feel grounded. Since Poet weaned she has been absolutely ravenous and as I prepare food and watch her devour, I'm mindful of what my body fed her for all those months. Retrospect is such a brilliant teacher and this week it's provided such wonderful insight. Put simply I've been tired this past while, my days have been unproductive and I've been uninspired. There is an undeniable sadness as Poet and I navigate this new stage but there is also a sweet calm that comes from renewed energy and a clear mind. 

As we bask in lazy holiday repertoire I'm revelling in a new kind of freedom. My days are slow and spontaneous, just how I like them. 

when nature decides

The past week has reminded me, with such clarity, that we are nature.

When Poet came down with a fever a few weeks ago she fed like a newborn. Day and night she would cuddle in and I, with all my concern and anxiety, obliged every feed. Our sleep was feverish and our days long, but by last Tuesday afternoon she was on the mend and I exhaled. Finally.

The next morning it was my turn and over the following days I shivered and burned, cringed as I swallowed and wished myself better. In the midst of it I accepted that the gradual, controlled weaning process I had planned was not meant to be. 

My body had decided that it just couldn't do it anymore and with a strange mix of relief and grief, I started to say no to Poet's requests. On Sunday night I lay in bed and listened to her pit-pat her way around the house instead of lying next to me. Every time she came into the room she would smile, ask for milk, and sob when I said no. "Milky's gone." Eventually she surrendered and came to lie down, but she wouldn't cuddle in, nor would she share my pillow. 

Instead of feeding her, I sang to her; nursery rhymes with a made-up line every now and then. When we got to twinkle twinkle she stopped crying, cuddled in, and started to fall asleep. Which is when I fumbled my way through the second verse and soaked the crown of her head with my tears.

It was over, just like that. The baby becomes the little girl.

The final breastfeed is such a pivotal "cutting of the cord" moment and this time, whilst I struggled with the fact that I wasn't in control, I found comfort in the natural progression that was occurring. Much like pregnancy and birth, the breastfeeding journey is beautiful, challenging, tiring and joyous. It requires so much from the mama; gratitude, acceptance, patience and, most importantly, the ability to surrender. 

Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are!

Up above the world so high, 

Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is gone,

When he nothing shines upon,

Then you show your little light,

Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveller in the dark,

Thanks you for your tiny spark,

He could not see which way to go,

If you did not twinkle so.

photo: breastfeeding poet (13months) on a wild beach in Gerroa, captured by tim. 

slow days, rest days

...get better soon days.

When your baby has a fever, time stands still. Since Wednesday afternoon Poet has been unwell, her eyes heavy and sad. She has had an on-again-off-again fever, general malaise and inconsolable misery. Just when I think she's improving she calls for me again, cuddles in and feeds for comfort and nourishment. 

I've been reading a lot about autumn, the season when our immune system struggles the most. Whilst I worry about the kids when they're sick I'm constantly reminding myself that they need to be unwell, every so often, to strengthen their immune system, to build resilience against the bugs of winter. Over the past few days, in between feeding Poet and writing stories (not the prettiest attempt at life/work balance) I've been jotting down recipes for immune strengthening and respiratory cleansing. I hear it's going to be a bad flu season so I'm preparing myself and hoping for the best.

Right now Poet is sleeping soundly, her belly full of roast chicken, roast garlic, cucumber and capsicum (I was so delighted when she ate dinner!). I'm hoping that tomorrow she wakes a little happier and healthier because there will be croissants to eat and birthday wishes to be made. Tomorrow I turn 29. I'd like autumn sunshine, a nice cup of coffee and no sneezing, please.