Only my mom knows how much I used to hate talking about the weather.

When I was growing up, The Weather Channel was a permanent fixture in our house. After high school, I’d come home to turn on the tube and there was the blue screen — the 7-day forecast — the breadcrumb dropped in the woods that let me know my mom had been there.

I didn’t like talking about natural disasters or the dew point (what is that, anyway?), and didn’t care about the humidity or if I should pack my umbrella. On a scale of one to 10, with 10 being something I most cared in my teens (The Catcher in the Rye, AOL chat rooms and vocabulary flashcards), atmospheric conditions were a negative 5.

And yet, there was my mom, an amateur meteorologist with no one to share her passion because her whole family was driven bananas by talk of “chance of precipitation.”

Partly cloudy, chance of rain

Mostly, I didn’t like it when people began conversations with the weather. This, I thought, was a waste of time and words. And this, of course, is because my teen self was ruled by Queen Hormones and didn’t see the physical world’s perspective, so withdrawn was I into my own.

I remembered all of this while recently reading a trend report about the industry I work in. In it, I came across — of all things — a link to an online magazine for teenagers. The zine is run by a 15-year-old and a cool posse of digitally savvy adolescents who will one day tell me that tweeting is sooo second grade. Emphasis mine:

“There’s something magical going on when your own world might be the only one you know, and you hold on to the things that you love extra hard, the bands and movies and books and friends. Hating everything (euphemism for “hormones”) kind of makes every emotion and experience more intense, and it means you’ll identify with a band or movie or book or friend in an especially strong way that I am told there’s not enough time for it once you’re an adult.” – Tavi Gevinson, Rookie

It’s true. Unless it’s your job, what adult has time to care about that band you fawned over in high school or the color you paint your bedroom walls, much less the weather?

More important: When did we lose the magic?

Metamorphosis

By process of elimination, I have determined that there are two kinds of teenagers who turn into two kinds of adults: those who remain childlike, and those who do not.

Following one’s passion is childlike, even and especially when others don’t care.  Identifying strongly with a band, a fashion style, a cause — these are the things that define us as kids and sometimes people grow up and never forget. Or, they join new tribes that help them return to a playground-like state. Why do you think the “cool” companies have game rooms and sleep pods?

No matter how far removed we are from this childlike continuum, we all strive for connection. And talking about the weather is a foolproof way to break the ice. It’s a common denominator reminding us that no matter our individual passions, we’ve all got to deal with a rainstorm every once in a while.

Familiar weather patterns

So, this weather — it’s in us and we’re ruled by it. Lack of sunshine makes us depressed. Too much sunshine makes us depressed (Sadly, suicide rates are highest in April, according to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.) Earthquakes and tsunamis wipe out everything we’ve carefully built to withstand them. Heck, even in the midst of Web 2.0 and citizen journalism and good old-fashioned looking out the window, we still have local weathermen and women.

Mine’s name is Kathy Sabine, and I like her trench coats.

Anymore, I don’t mind talking about the weather… much. It’s because I recognize that what’s going on in the world is most likely also what’s happening inside their world. When we talk about the weather, we’re not really lamenting the snow or the heat. Not really.

Because here’s the thing: Every atom of me comes from the same life force that created every atom of the hurricane, and the tornado and the blizzard. And that goes for you, too. I never would have realized this had it not been for my yoga practice.

We’re all in this together, so it’s time to start listening to each others’ passions – really listening, because our internal climates are even more important than our external ones. And giving someone 10 minutes of your time to talk about it could make all the difference in their world.

And it could make a really big difference if that person is your mom.

Photo: ShuttrKing|KT

Whether you’re going through a difficult time or celebrating the best time of your life, these songs adapt. I could have titled this post “11 songs that make you feel infinite” because they’re just that good.

Grab the whole yoga playlist here on Spotify.

1. “I Want You to Be My Love” by Over the Rhine

I was introduced to this band while living in Knoxville, although the musicians and I share Cincinnati as our hometown. Lead singer Karen, and husband Linford on the piano, are incredibly soulful live. It’s such a simple song, really, yet perfectly captures the magic of new beginnings.

2. “Falling Slowly” by The Frames

The plaintive wailing of lead man Glen Hansard turns this song’s lyrics into soul food. I pause when I hear it, close my eyes and know that everything’s going to be OK.

“Falling slowly, eyes that know me / And I can’t go back / And moods that take me and erase me / And I’ll paint it black / Well you have suffered enough / And warred with yourself / It’s time that you won”

3. “Lost in My Mind” by The Head and the Heart

I saw this band’s performance at the Boulder Theatre in 2011 and it blew my mind. This song is a giant crescendo into which I want to dissolve.

4. “Paper Airplane” by Alison Krauss & Union Station

Some people take comfort in things that (seemingly) last forever. Yoga has taught me to take comfort in the knowledge that all things ebb and flow, and to treasure what you’re given when you’ve got it. Best summed up in these lyrics:

“Love is like a paper airplane / Flying in the folded dent / Riding high dipping low / But innocence is fair again / I’m hoping I can hold it in / Our love will die I know”

5. “Everything Will Be Alright” by Matt Wertz

Bad day? Listen to this tune, especially if you have a soft spot for whistling.

“Most my troubles are self-created / They just live in my mind / Why do we try / When it always ends up fine / Everything will be alright”

6. “Absolutely Still” by Better Than Ezra

From the first guitar strum to the catchy chorus, there’s absolutely no bad mood this song can’t cure. Bonus that the lyrics capture perfectly the push and pull of life, and there, in the middle of it – yoga.

“The world is spinning turning day to night / And my thoughts are running at the speed of light / Got an empty feeling that I never wanna fill / Absolutely still”

7. “Good Life” by OneRepublic

This song doesn’t need an explanation for its goodness. Just listen. Fave lyric: “When you’re happy like a fool, let it take you over / When everything is out you gotta take it in”

8. “Blame It On Me” by Parachute

So, so catchy. In that clap-your-hands, dance-with-your-dog sort of way. This song reminds me that no situation stays for long, and better is always just around the bend.

“Say what you want but it’s only getting better / It’s alright, oh baby it’s alright”

9. “We’re All in This Together” by Ben Lee

This song single-handedly erases my childhood self doubt about math while reaffirming that the coolest thing on this earth is the fact that we’re all in this together. Oh yeah, and quantum physics.

10. “You Make My Dreams” by Daryl Hall & John Oates

That whole “dance like nobody’s watching” cliché? That’s me when I hear this song. If you’re not keen on the fact that this song is being sung one lover to another, consider it a love song to your own self.

11. “Last Lullaby” by Ollabelle

To the untrained ear, this song is about death. But to the yogic mind, this song is about oneness. It was on repeat as I gained ground on my depression five years ago and still feels like redemption to this day.

Think back to a trying time in your life: Do you remember what song was on repeat? What album you couldn’t live without? Tell! I love discovering new music.

Photo: Tadeu Pereira

This is the Winter Solstice. The dark and the light, but mostly the dark. Especially during that time of night—that all-too-predictable time of night—when the mind, coming to rest, suddenly remembers all it had been avoiding all day.

Yet, this avoidance. Key, really, to survival.

So life comes rushing back in. All of it, layered upon itself like so many bed sheets during a snowfall. This is the moment one names “depression.” You and I have it, sometimes more frequently than others, and most often when the sun grows cold.

The hibernating mind

There are casualties in this war of the mind. If you are lucky, the casualties are merely your memories. But more often than not, they are the memories of others, too, because you are undoubtedly someone loved and wanted and missed. Do you believe this? You should.

Because when the darkness comes, instinctively we seek to minimize damage. So we hole up and hibernate until spring like great big lumbering bears. Our body temperature drops and our breathing rate slows down. We are extremely difficult to awaken.

All hibernation is is an adaptation to a shortage of “food.”

The Black Bear is what is known as a “super hibernator.” These bears do not need to wake up to eat, drink or eliminate. Their waste is actually recycled and broken down into nitrogen, which is used to build protein and maintain muscle mass while asleep.

This is at once disgusting and incredibly impressive.

So, wake up

The more I sit with my past struggles with sadness, the more I realize it all stems from uncertainty.

And yet, in those moments, how certain we are that they will never end.

Depression, rather than a state to avoid, is an acknowledgment of the dark in us all. By contrast, the light is so much brighter. But if uncertainty is allowed to rule, then life becomes cloudy and dense, hugging itself like wet snowflakes dampening the sidewalk. Momentarily, a path is obscured. The allure of fresh tracks is strong because we feel as if we are the first to ever walk this snowy trail, and the crunch underfoot is satisfying because we are the only one around to hear it.

And in a way, we’re right. We are the only one in that moment to walk exactly as we are in that space. But remember: An inanimate shovel can do the same thing, if only it is pushed.

There is no “alone” when it comes to the dark. There is only the idea of dark, and whether or not we choose to be certain about it. Then, when we are certain, the beauty of the Winter Solstice reminds us light has come again.

Even Black Bears need to wake up.

Photo: Tavis Ford

These moments are worth paying attention to. Like the first time you held your new puppy or told your boyfriend you were falling in love with him. Or when you gave away all your secrets and didn’t care who listened.

But this time is different. This time, there are no secrets. They’ve all been discovered by an unknowable known: this new person you’ve just met.

These moments are worth every time someone walked out of your life because they didn’t know how to define you. Or because they had defined you as something you weren’t, and never could be, for them.

But the heart knows this game. It’s been signed up for this gig before, has learned to simultaneously resist and welcome this change of pace: this moment when you realize that you are not alone and never were.

So when someone comes along who can awaken the portion of you that lies dormant—no matter how much you meditate or occupy your yoga mat—this is someone who, by no accident, deserves special attention.

How do you discover such a person?

Be this person for other people.

Photo: Kerekes János Csongor

If it weren’t for my Lucy PRO discount (yoga instructor? Become a LucyPRO here), I’d be looking decidedly more ragged. In fact, until a couple months ago I taught (and practiced) in the same two pairs of pants and three shirts for two years. And with proper care, my Jade Yoga Mat is still going strong. It helps, too, if you have a crafty mom who makes you eye pillows.

But it doesn’t have to cost a fortune to outfit yourself or your space with yoga style. I went searching for how-tos, and despite the proliferation of “yoga pants from old t-shirts,” I persevered with these modern, do it yourself yoga craft projects that save some bank.

P.S. Where are all you fabulous yoga crafters and your yoga crafts? These projects, although great, are collecting Internet dust!

1. Marimekko Yoga Mat Bag

This do-it-yourself yoga bag is exactly my aesthetic; now, if only I had inherited my mom’s sewing gene. In 10 steps and with a sewing machine you’ll be crafting your way to a handmade yoga bag that will have everyone asking you where you bought it. This looks simple enough that even I could do it, genetics or not.

2. Antibacterial Yoga Mat Spray

I’m 90% on my way to this simple spray, just need to stock up on some eucalyptus essential oil. For tea tree oil, I prefer the organic kind from Desert Essence. The company is the largest supplier of tea tree oil, which coincidentally, my doctor tells me, is good for treating the eczema on my fingers (too much information).

3. Yoga Mat Strap

So easy. So quick. So cute.

4. Nigella Yoga Mat Bag by Amy Butler [PDF]

Oh, Amy Butler. I’m in love with your “Midwest Modern” fabrics, and not just because I grew up in Ohio, but also because you put them to use in this yoga mat bag pattern. The PDF includes instructions, pattern pieces and measurements. If you sew this, make me an extra?

5. Love and Peace Wall Art [PDF]

I’m a huge fan of fabric wall art, mostly because cutting fabric? Cutting fabric I can do. I’m thinking these panels would look great above my bed, which already is covered by Amy Butler’s water bouquet in midnight fabric duvet.

6. McCall’s, Simplicity and Kwik Sew Yoga Clothing Patterns

Seriously, who knew that back when my mom was sifting through McCall’s patterns for my Halloween costumes, she could have been making yoga clothes instead? The website that rounded up these patterns warns they may be out of print, but it’s nothing a trip to eBay won’t fix. Most all of these patterns look like they could make it in our modern times, except for the last two. Unless you totally want to rock the ’80s.

7. 50 Ways to Reuse Your Yoga Mat

I’ve got my first yoga mat (a Gaiam, coincidentally) rotting in a spare bedroom, but am considering one of the fine options in this list from Gaiam.com. So far, #6 (donate to an animal shelter) is winning out. Definitely not #15 (cut it up to make mouse pads). Do people really do that?

8. Cozy Eye Pillows

Most yoga eye pillows are square-shaped – not this pattern from Better Homes & Gardens. The pillows can also be cooled in the freezer or warmed in the microwave for a luxe relaxation during your savasana.

9. Dog Leash Turned Yoga Tote

That Martha – she’s always finding bizarre uses for seemingly unrelated things – like dog leashes and yoga mats. This is less of a DIY and more of a: grab or buy a cute dog leash and use it to roll up your yoga mat. Clever, especially if you don’t have a dog that goes insane every time she sees her leash.

10. Yoga Cookie Cutters

The amateur baker in me loves this idea, which I am apparently quite behind the times on since thekitchen.com featured these cookie cutters in 2009. The tin cutters include Plow, Tree, Warrior I, Lotus, Down Dog and more. Or you could skip the DIY and buy the Gingerbread Yoga People Cookies from Baked Ideas.

Some of the most life-changing organizations have come from inconspicuous starts. Apple started in a garage. Amnesty International was founded following an article published in The Observer, UK’s Sunday newspaper.

Street Yoga, a non-profit whose mission is to help struggling youth and their families overcome early-life traumas, began when its founder Mark Lilly organized a yoga class at a shelter and school serving homeless youth.

All it takes is a seed of an idea to change the world – whether through electronics, the media or teaching yoga for service.

I’m proud to announce that Street Yoga will be joining #omchat on Nov. 7 at 9 p.m. EST/ 6 p.m. PST to talk about how their yoga activism is “changing lives, one breath at a time” of youth across the nation.

Street Yoga comes to Denver

From relatively small beginnings, Street Yoga hired its first staff member in 2008 and grew from a grassroots organization into a non-profit. Street Yoga offers a 16-hour weekend teacher training program that prepares yoga teachers, school teachers and social workers to work with youth. So far in 2011, they have trained more than 500 yoga teachers to teach yoga to youth in social service environments, from Portland to Tucson and New York to Belfast. And in 2012, they’re coming to Denver.

The weekend workshop is $290, and Denver’s Eliot Street Studio is set to host a training. However, any yoga studio can choose to host the workshop. Plus, if you co-sponsor (donate the space, time and advertise), Street Yoga will give a full scholarship to give to one of the studio’s teachers or divide up among several.

After the training, it’s up to the individual instructor to incorporate or spread what they’ve learned into the community. “We provide the language and the mindset of going into social service sites,” Alice Noyes, communications manager for Street Yoga. “Since we are small, we aren’t able to provide programming in all the cities, but it’s something we’re exploring how to do sustainably.”

Join Street Yoga for #omchat

To join us for the chat, log in to the Tweet Chat room with your Twitter account here. Street Yoga’s Executive Director Rachel Sample and Alice will be manning (womanning?) the @StreetYoga account. Be sure to follow them and @omchat, which I’ll be tweeting from.

Then, type your tweets into the chat box. No need to add “#omchat” to the end of your tweets if you’re in the Tweet Chat room – it happens automatically.

Bring your questions for Street Yoga, plus be prepared to chat about how you, too, use yoga to serve your community. See you then!

Photo: Street Yoga

Lisa has an uncanny ability to speak her truth no matter who’s looking and no matter the situation. And the key is simple: trust, completely, that in every moment the Universe is conspiring to bring us everything we need.

Lisa was one of my teachers during my yoga teacher training two years ago, and I continue to frequent her classes today. She’s taught at Om Time, Core Power, Rishi’s Crossing, Samadhi Center for Yoga, Spiral Yoga & Wellness Center, and at one time was teaching 15 classes a week. Now, the full-time yoga teacher calls Karma Yoga Center home.

But 11 years ago, she was just getting started. This is her story—how she came to yoga, found love and met her guru, all by trusting the Universe.

*

It’s 2000 and Lisa is living in San Francisco when a coworker suggests she attend a Bikram yoga class. “It was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my entire life,” she says. “I’d always worked out, but I was sore in places I didn’t know existed!” The instructor told her to make sure she came back the next day to work out the soreness. Lisa did. And she was hooked.

“I started getting up at 6 a.m. to practice. I wanted to eat all the things that were good for me. It was a huge shift. My body changed and my mentality changed. I felt wrung out from the inside out,” she tells me on a couch at Gypsy House on 13th in Capitol Hill.

After a solo European trek and a surfing stint on the shores of Santa Cruz, Lisa landed in Denver and began cleaning the Core Power on Grant studio in exchange for yoga. By day she worked at a doctor’s office, where she was often told she’d done something wrong; at night, she’d hop on her mat and be told that everything she was doing was right.

And then she took a class with Denver-teacher Angelique de Silva, who, unlike other teachers Lisa had previously practiced with, spoke in Sanskrit. “I’ve always been someone who enjoys challenges and the challenge of the heat in yoga class was what I thought it was, but once I heard her talk about Sanskrit I thought, ‘What is that?’” Lisa soon followed Angelique’s classes to Samadhi.

It was 2005. Within two years, after cleaning Samadhi in exchange for yoga and eavesdropping on countless teacher trainings, Lisa applied to be a yoga teacher.

*

There are 10 of us piled into a big white van that we littered with prayer flags and magnets that read “Peace” and “Save the world.” We’re coming back from Enchanted Tadasana, a yoga, hiking and music retreat in Wyoming that Lisa and Katrina Gustafson, owner of Karma Yoga Center, put together last August. As yogis do, we got to talking about love – romantic love or lack thereof.

Lisa was at the wheel, headed down I-25 in northern Colorado, when she matter-of-factly stated that she’d meditated for 40 days to bring love into her life. After spending years comfortable being by herself and not in a relationship, she decided she wanted to experience herself in a relationship. “I wrote down everything I wanted in a partner, and then, no matter what I was doing, I made time every day to chant Aham Prema [ah-hum pray-mah]” which means I am divine love.

She did this for 40 days. Three months later, Aaron, her boyfriend, came into her life.

When Lisa tells this story, you get the sense that she doesn’t feel like she’s a miracle worker for having called love into her life. Instead, you see a glimpse of the dedication she brings to any endeavor, and an utterly disarming and complete trust that the universe will indeed provide, as long as you intend it.

“You put out intentions and you have to wait for them to be fulfilled,” she says. “It gives me more reason to love what I’m doing now, until it changes, because I know it will. If [yoga] is really done to the heart of what it’s intended to be, it can transform everything.”

*

Between bites of egg sandwich at Gypsy House, Lisa tells me how she determines who to adjust in her classes.

“There’s a fine line between helping people along their path, giving them guidance and letting them guide themselves,” she says. “I’ll look at somebody and if they’re following what I say, I’ll go over and help them. If they resist right away, I’ll just hold their leg or touch the back of their heart. So much gets said in all that, the gesture. Words can mess a lot of things up, people can hear a lot of things in words, but gestures are easier to understand.”

When Lisa speaks, her hands are always involved, even now as she extends her palm to me to demonstrate. It’s something that I’ve had to work at since becoming a yoga teacher. As a writer, I fall easily into words and continually remind myself to be more hands on. And then Lisa reminds me “sometimes we look to others and want to do ‘that thing,’ but ‘that thing’ may not be what’s yours,” and I feel like myself again.

She makes teaching yoga look effortless and it’s because she’s put in the time. After graduating from Samadhi’s teacher training, she was offered a 7:30 p.m. Thursday class right away. “The universe just opened up. Things started falling in my lap.  I started subbing like crazy and teaching as much as I could to the point where I was working full time and teaching full time,” she says. “It went full on from day one because I just kept saying yes.” She pauses, “I have a tendency to take on too much and burn myself out.”

Nearly a decade after her first Bikram class and a year after her teacher training, Lisa opened up to her own self-adjustment. “I remember distinctly the night I was sitting at an intersection on my way to class and all of a sudden I wasn’t stoked about being in my class. I was worn out from my schedule. I was sitting at a red light and something has to give, and it’s not gonna be yoga.

“And so I put in my notice.”

*

When the student is ready for the teacher, the teacher will appear, or so the conventional wisdom goes. Until this year, Lisa’s teachers were found in the library and on the mat – her yoga books and her students.

“Everybody around me was finding teachers, going to Shiva Rea, Baron Baptiste, Seane Corn, Saul David Raye… I would go to Yoga Journal conferences and study with these teachers, and they’re great, but I would usually leave feeling like a round peg trying to fit into a square hole,” she says. “I was kinda lost for a while – I thought, who’s going to inspire me and be my guru?”

“But there are teachers, I believe, everywhere, which is why I hadn’t found anybody like Rod until recently.” Lisa discovered Rod Stryker through his Aspen, Colo., Energetics of Sequencing workshop. Rod Stryker teaches ParaYoga, “para” meaning “supreme, ancient, highest, the culmination of all effort.”

After Lisa realized Rod’s teacher started the Himalayan Institute (all her favorite books are published by them) she got the feeling that this may be her teacher. “Just the minute I saw him… well I was coming out of the bathroom and he was going into the classroom. It felt natural and meant to be. He said he could tell I was happy to be there because he could see my glow.”

Which just goes to show that finding a teacher doesn’t have to be glamorous. And that, yes, you’ll still know when it’s right.

I attended Lisa’s Sunday class after she returned from the workshop. There was something different in her guidance – it was electric, right from the start. I felt the energy of each pose. I was the energy of each pose. And I didn’t need to be soaked in sweat to do it. “The whole idea behind the workshop was to figure out the energy behind the postures rather than doing them to do them,” Lisa tells me now. “Some yoga teachers think, ‘Let’s make it as hard as possible and when the people fall down we’ve done our job.’ I’d never heard anyone [Rod] talk about asana like this, to make the class as effective as it can be and as transforming as it can be.”

*

It’s only after our get together at Gypsy House, after I get home and begin poring over our chat, that the quote surfaces in my mind:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us… As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others!” —Marianne Williamson, author of A Return to Love

We are all timid, sometimes, when it comes to sharing our gifts. Lisa readily admits she often needed a nudge in order to take the next step in her yoga journey, or encouragement to play her flute or chant during savasana (staples, now, of her teaching).

“I was always doing [these things] in my world but scared to share them with my students,” she says. “Now, in my public classes, I don’t know if that’s up to me to decide. I want to give it and you decide whether you want to take it or not. If you don’t want to chant to Kali, it shouldn’t stop me from chanting to Kali.”

Self doubt is at the root of withholding. But, as yoga teachers, we withhold because we’re worried that those things that mean so much to us may not mean as much to our students. So we trap them inside until someone gives us permission to shine, or until passion forces them to the surface.

Then, when we do open up and continue to live our lives with open-hearted trust — oh, how the universe provides.

“My dad always said to me, ‘Find what you love and do that,’” says Lisa. “It blows my mind that teaching yoga supports my lifestyle. I am so very grateful.”

At a glimpse

Favorite Sanskrit word: ananda
I became a yoga teacher because I… felt it in my heart.
5 adjectives to describe your class: (I hope it comes across this way!) informative, challenging, fun, cleansing, full
5 adjectives to describe you: focused, fun loving, laidback, interested, adventurous
Pose that makes you feel free: Handstand
Pose that’s challenging: Hanumansana
3 teachers who are important to you: my dad Bill, Rod Stryker, Dr. Lester Miller, the rheumatologist in Santa Cruz I once worked for (Hm, they’re all guys!)
Favorite music to play in class: Anymore it’s ambient music. Music that sets a mood and a tone but that isn’t overpowering or doesn’t become the mood.

Note: This is the first in a series highlighting Denver’s talented yoga teachers who have also inspired my own practice.

• “Awwwww! Willow has a beauty mark! She’ll grow up to be a hot, sassy model!”
• “The pic of Willow looks like it could be in a 2008 Puppies calendar.”
• “That is the cutest puppy in the history of puppies. I’m entirely serious. That is just ridiculous.”

Yes, it’s all fun and games, until someone swipes your vegan protein bar. Willow, you’ve got some ‘splaining to do.

It comes in the unlikely form of tofu. Silken tofu, that is.

I’ve tried many variations and many different kinds of chocolate in this mousse before settling on this combination. What follows is quick, easy, doesn’t get watery (which the addition of nondairy milk brings) and only involves four ingredients. That’s pretty much a coup for a dessert that’s packed with protein.

And no, you can’t taste the tofu.

Vegan Chocolate Mousse

1 cup Enjoy Life semisweet chocolate mega chunks
1 package Mori Nu silken tofu, organic
2 tbsp maple syrup, organic
1 heaping tsp vanilla extract, organic

1. Drain the silken tofu and blend until smooth in a food processor.

2. Melt chocolate chunks in a microwave safe bowl for 1 minute. Stir. If not fully melted, nuke for 15 seconds more.

3. Add maple syrup to melted chocolate and stir. The mixture will begin to set. Pour the chocolate into the food processor.

4. Add vanilla to the tofu and chocolate mixture.

5. Blend until smooth, scraping sides of food processor often to incorporate.

6. Pour into individual ramekins or a big serving bowl.

Serve warm or chill for 30 minutes to an hour (if you can wait that long). Especially delicious with fresh, red raspberries piled on top.

I pulled up my Twitter feed and there it all was. A collective display of digital grief, making all non-Steve Jobs related tweets seem woefully out of place. I couldn’t remember what I had planned for my class theme anymore. The news was too encompassing to shelve it for an hour and 15 minutes.

So I took it with me to class. My students had already heard. And I talked about this quote of his:

“Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”

Although it was couched in the terms of Mastin Kipp from The Daily Love:

“Steve said once that it is by living with the awareness of our own death that frees us to be ourselves and give our gift to the world.”

And that’s when I did it. I brought up the fact that the rest of us will all meet the same end.

There it was. The raw, naked truth that our beautiful, life-giving prana will one day cease. I paused and the silence was thick.

The yoga class must go on

But here were my students, still looking back at me. Waiting for the hope to come.

We spent the majority of class celebrating the breath and life, and acknowledging that the work we do on our mats is the body’s alchemy for continual healing. For a chance at new life and infinite possibilities that come with living in your genius, as Steve Jobs had done. The word death never made its way back into the practice.

I think that’s why it struck me only after class, after I had driven home and after I had walked in the door and let my dog outside, that it might not have been appropriate to bring up death. After all, I don’t know what my students are going through. Perhaps someone in their life has pancreatic cancer. Perhaps something has recently passed away. Perhaps they, themselves, faced a brush with death.

Who am I, as a yoga teacher, to talk about the yoga mat as a place where “mini deaths” can happen? As a place where the skin sheds and layers unpeel to reveal the person that you always were, and the person you are recreating yourself to be?

Anything goes in yoga class?

But then again, yoga is the essence of life itself. It’s yin and yang. Effort and yield. Dark and light.

Alive and dead.

Yoga is also about connecting in with the collective to understand that in life and death, we really aren’t alone. So being in a yoga class, breathing with everyone else’s breath and settling into Warrior Pose on a night when you feel anything but a Warrior, is revitalizing.

Before class one of my students was telling me how she finds herself being healed by yoga, and that at first she was digging in the topsoil, but now she’s digging down into all the grubs and the roots. Life is messy, as is death. But death seems tidy because many don’t witness it happen. Of those who do witness it, many don’t talk about it.

After class, my student told me she was invigorated. It was the ultimate compliment for a class that mentioned the “d” word. So maybe talking about death wasn’t so inappropriate after all.

What would you have done, or how have you addressed death in yoga class (if at all)? If we can’t accept death while on our yoga mats, then where can we?

Photo: Pete Birkinshaw