We were just voted Honorable Mention for Best Pilates Studio in Sonoma County for the second year. I feel so proud of everyone who makes the studio so amazing. The fact that we didn't even know the voting was happening last year and were voted honorable mention last year still blows my mind.
And we are in incredible company when it comes to Pilates in Sonoma County - spectacular company.
So, it feels pretty darn amazing that in 5 years we've done so much, come so far and have such a strong and loyal following!
May the next 5 years be even more fruitful and may we continue to give back to our community what they have given us!
With gratitude, Sonoma County.
BEST OF THE BOHEMIAN
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
No Regrets - Excerpt from February 2011 Newsletter
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
T.S. Eliot
Four Quarters, Little Gidding, pt. 5
Hi, everyone.
I would say good morning, as it is a spectacular morning shining through my living room windows just now. I wish I could bring you back here with me and talk with you sitting next to me, watching sparkles of sun break through the dark grey of rain clouds outside. I hope you can imagine it. Have a cup of coffee and sit with me. This is one of my favorite moments: both this early morning place on my couch and the writing of this newsletter and I am grateful to know you might take a moment to be here too.
(I've been reading way too much fiction lately hence the fluffy over-description. Sorry. :)
To the point:
One of my students who shares an interest in Buddhism, in meditation and in a particular Bay Area Buddhist teacher, Phillip Moffit, told me yesterday about a Dharma talk on "What might have been" - on clinging to the past. As I sit in the unusual quiet of my house and listen to the talk I realize that clinging is one of my favorite pastimes, although not to the past. Clinging comes in many forms. I have spent very little time lingering on what I could have done or should have done so in large part my life feels free from regret. I have all kinds of stories about why that's true - some are good and some are not. In any case, in exchange for letting the past be I know myself to stretch far ahead to the future grasping at what I will do or become or create.
The future nearly always obscures my vision to the point of creating a constant state of frantic movement toward something not only outside the present, but outside myself. This ebbs and flows like all things, but when I feel lost, when I feel a lack of control, a sense of not knowing I begin looking at what I will do next. I make another plan, seek out another solution, set a clearer goal, use a better technique, generally imagining what it will be like in the future if I work a little more or a little harder. Everything already created and set in motion is lost to the greener shade of future's grass. Ah, well. So it is for me. And for you it may be different.
What I am aware of lately is the energy lost in such repose. Whether clinging to the past in reverie or regret or to the future in fantasy or anxiety, clinging wastes the energy that could be used to relish the singular moments of our lives and infuse them with richness.
This morning when I went to wash my hands I did something unusual - an experiment in being present. I slowed down enough to really look at my hands and feel them in the soapy warmness. I have nice hands I thought. Long fingers, strong nails, agile and strong. After all, they are responsible for my very quick and accurate typing speed, for which I am known to brag. Yes, I think my hands are beautiful and I am grateful for all that they have done and will do. Mostly, though, I don't notice. My story is I am too busy.
Phillip is known for using both T.S. Elliot and Trappist monk Thomas Merton to illustrate Buddhist teachings. This morning, not for the first time, I read again the following quote by Merton: "To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything is itself to succumb to the violence of our times."
Yes, it is so, isn't it? This is one way of clinging to the future or even to the present. And yes, it feels violent. It feels like inner violence to myself often followed by self recrimination for what I have not yet done and should be doing. But, AND, if I decide - if only for a moment - to do nothing about any of it, to be still, to let it wash over me without identifying with the judgements then I feel the energy restored. I can see what one thing I need to do as the most important thing and the moment becomes rich even if it's uncomfortable or painful. Phillip talks about this as living in cycles, small moments of where you are now not where you could have been or where you will be. Our lives are many cycles at once: right now I am a writer, but I am also a mom and will be that completely in the moment. The cycle is right now, it's not next week or next year. It's not that I am 34 going on 64 with no time to waste. I am only here and right here is enough. It is. Enough.
"Said another way, don't make a panoramic movie out of your difficult schedule [or situation] such that you are constantly seeing yourself doing all that has to be done, as if it were going to be done all at once. Instead just do what has to be done right now, for that's all you can do. It may sound like a simple thing to do, but it is very subtle and difficult, yet so liberating!" Phillip Moffit, Article - Practicing Nonviolence Toward Self.
The moment of practice is a cycle too. When you practice you are practicing now. It's a cycle in which you commit to being present with where you are. Practice is presence. Practice is the act of expressing life as a return to the current moment over and over again. Maybe that's why maintaining my own practice is so difficult. Hmmm? You?
So, practice. Practice Pilates - being present in your body over and over again. Come in to the studio or do it at home, but do practice. You can't do Pilates without having a practice just like I can't call myself a writer without sitting down each day and writing. Each time I arrive it is a practice, it's the acknowledgement of value in one moment.
May you find richness in every moment, good, bad, difficult or easy. They all have value.
With gratitude,
Chantill
Balancing Effort, Sweet Effort - Excerpt from January 2011 Newsletter
Happy New Year dear friends. I hope this finds you well, energized by the freshness of the rain and the wide-openness of the year to come. I want to share something that's been on my mind these past few weeks and hope it will find a cozy spot in your attention, if only for this moment.
I was given such an amazing gift to start my year, one that seems to be resonating across many areas of my life connecting one to another with unexpected insights and small, powerful revelations. During a wonderful four hours with yogic and Sanskrit philosopher, Christopher Wallace, these words made their way home to my head and my heart: "Sweet effort."
We often talk about the balance of effort and ease in our Pilates practice. In fact, we always do. It is at the heart of the awareness we cultivate every time we practice. For me, it resonates in the way of balancing the effort I feel in living my life. No doubt you've been exposed, at some point, to the idea of non-attachment: the ability to let go of your expectations, your grasp on your desire for a certain outcome. Not to be mistaken for detachment, indifference or apathy. How do we apply effort without driving madly for the goal? If there is no interest in the outcome what's to motivate us toward it? These are my questions and where I found "sweet effort" waiting.
Non-attachment is our skillfulness in being present with whatever is happening, presently, without regret for what could have been. This is the sweetness.
In this modern world, I tell myself, in my life, effort reigns: effort to run my business well; effort to teach my son well; to discipline him and myself; to be non judgmental and always kind; to make money and on and on. The more excited I get about the potential of what my life holds the greater the drive - the more I set my sights on getting somewhere. The path seems very, very long and I get impatient. This is when I can feel my effort turn bitter.
However, through the experience of finding ease in my body, even in the most intense and focused moments, I am also familiar with the difference between this kind of straining, stressful effort and being able to set clear goals and intentions that come from a place of willingness and ease. There are times when the goal does not negate the joy in how I get there. This is what Christopher Wallace talked about: we must have the right view, the right starting place and have clear vision, where we want to go. Then there is practice. When practice is motivated by self-love and gentleness and by balance not self-hatred, impatience and agonizing effort there can be progress, even transformation. With sweet effort we reach our goals more directly regardless of if it's exactly how we thought we would.
When you find this place between clarity of path and direction, and a true ability to love just where you are in the moment no matter where it is, that's sweet effort. "Yoga is wanting the life you have," he told us. If yoga is the practice then Pilates can be the occasion for practicing sweet effort.
Buddhist teacher Michael Carroll, writes "Our effort to get somewhere, whether in our career, in our life, or in simply riding a bike, depends on first being somewhere, letting go of our fears, desires, habits, and routines and trusting ourselves fully in the present moment." We must balance the two efforts, writes Carroll.
I have a plan, a goal, an intention and it is strong. When I begin to strive for it, grasp at it, believe that there is nothing else that will do I experience stress and worry and a terrible exertion. It's like when I see you do a roll-up or try a teaser, applying all your effort to achieve the movement as you see others doing it or me doing it. Often, there is just tension and that tension restricts your body, cutting you off from finding the movement with ease. That's me when I become attached to the outcome of my clear plan. That's you, too.
In my Pilates practice, because of it, I rarely struggle with effort. I know, in a felt way, how to balance what I want with what I've got and it feels easy, graceful, perfect for what it is. That is sweet effort. When I can see my goals and know that whether or not I reach them I am just where I need to be, there is the same ease - the balance of efforts.
This is my great lesson in the moment: balancing the efforts - finding sweet effort. When I do find it, there is nothing but joy. The ease in my mind and my spirit is matched by the ease in my body and no matter whether I got everything on my list accomplished or got where I wanted to go, I feel good. I am happy.
So, I hope you can find some sweet effort today and every day. I have said and thought, on many occasions, what we do in the studio reflects the skillfulness we can cultivate in our lives. One can be a mirror of the other. Next time you find your sweet effort in your movement notice the feeling. Perhaps finding it in your life is not so different.
*Thank you to Cori for sharing Christopher with me!*
With warmth and gratitude,
Chantill
I was given such an amazing gift to start my year, one that seems to be resonating across many areas of my life connecting one to another with unexpected insights and small, powerful revelations. During a wonderful four hours with yogic and Sanskrit philosopher, Christopher Wallace, these words made their way home to my head and my heart: "Sweet effort."
We often talk about the balance of effort and ease in our Pilates practice. In fact, we always do. It is at the heart of the awareness we cultivate every time we practice. For me, it resonates in the way of balancing the effort I feel in living my life. No doubt you've been exposed, at some point, to the idea of non-attachment: the ability to let go of your expectations, your grasp on your desire for a certain outcome. Not to be mistaken for detachment, indifference or apathy. How do we apply effort without driving madly for the goal? If there is no interest in the outcome what's to motivate us toward it? These are my questions and where I found "sweet effort" waiting.
Non-attachment is our skillfulness in being present with whatever is happening, presently, without regret for what could have been. This is the sweetness.
In this modern world, I tell myself, in my life, effort reigns: effort to run my business well; effort to teach my son well; to discipline him and myself; to be non judgmental and always kind; to make money and on and on. The more excited I get about the potential of what my life holds the greater the drive - the more I set my sights on getting somewhere. The path seems very, very long and I get impatient. This is when I can feel my effort turn bitter.
However, through the experience of finding ease in my body, even in the most intense and focused moments, I am also familiar with the difference between this kind of straining, stressful effort and being able to set clear goals and intentions that come from a place of willingness and ease. There are times when the goal does not negate the joy in how I get there. This is what Christopher Wallace talked about: we must have the right view, the right starting place and have clear vision, where we want to go. Then there is practice. When practice is motivated by self-love and gentleness and by balance not self-hatred, impatience and agonizing effort there can be progress, even transformation. With sweet effort we reach our goals more directly regardless of if it's exactly how we thought we would.
When you find this place between clarity of path and direction, and a true ability to love just where you are in the moment no matter where it is, that's sweet effort. "Yoga is wanting the life you have," he told us. If yoga is the practice then Pilates can be the occasion for practicing sweet effort.
Buddhist teacher Michael Carroll, writes "Our effort to get somewhere, whether in our career, in our life, or in simply riding a bike, depends on first being somewhere, letting go of our fears, desires, habits, and routines and trusting ourselves fully in the present moment." We must balance the two efforts, writes Carroll.
I have a plan, a goal, an intention and it is strong. When I begin to strive for it, grasp at it, believe that there is nothing else that will do I experience stress and worry and a terrible exertion. It's like when I see you do a roll-up or try a teaser, applying all your effort to achieve the movement as you see others doing it or me doing it. Often, there is just tension and that tension restricts your body, cutting you off from finding the movement with ease. That's me when I become attached to the outcome of my clear plan. That's you, too.
In my Pilates practice, because of it, I rarely struggle with effort. I know, in a felt way, how to balance what I want with what I've got and it feels easy, graceful, perfect for what it is. That is sweet effort. When I can see my goals and know that whether or not I reach them I am just where I need to be, there is the same ease - the balance of efforts.
This is my great lesson in the moment: balancing the efforts - finding sweet effort. When I do find it, there is nothing but joy. The ease in my mind and my spirit is matched by the ease in my body and no matter whether I got everything on my list accomplished or got where I wanted to go, I feel good. I am happy.
So, I hope you can find some sweet effort today and every day. I have said and thought, on many occasions, what we do in the studio reflects the skillfulness we can cultivate in our lives. One can be a mirror of the other. Next time you find your sweet effort in your movement notice the feeling. Perhaps finding it in your life is not so different.
*Thank you to Cori for sharing Christopher with me!*
With warmth and gratitude,
Chantill
Flights of fancy and ordinary presents... Excerpt from December 2010 Newsletter
Just over a week ago I was sitting in the Chicago airport, tired, back aching, stomach churning – strong coffee at 3 a.m. will do that – watching with slightly puffy eyes the hustling and grumbling of hundreds of absolutely ordinary people moving with narrowly focused attention toward someone or something in the distance. We sat encompassed by our own small cell of importance, heading for Florida. We were thinking about us. They were thinking about them. And yet, in airports, like banks, or during jury duty, we gleam that our little islands of awareness are no different than that of the guy with the mustache who's pushing his way to the front of the boarding line. It’s very likely that he, like us, is pondering bills that are due, what he didn't get done before rushing off or anxious about the family he's about to see. He's maybe worrying that his mustache is out of style and thinks he should probably have gone with the goatee. Is his deodorant is working? Not today! Like us, he's at the center of everything.
In my movie - the one where I am the superstar - I start to think about how I love January 1st. I jump suddenly past the next 2 weeks. Reveling in the anticipation of the freshness of the New year, I also realize that just about now my head feels like it's going to explode. I am all together a little twitchy: Worried about closing up the books for the year and the coming of taxes; Cookies for Friday; A trip to the city on Saturday; Five presents left to buy; And really nasty stuff like the lice outbreak at Charlie's school. I notice that since I am uncomfortable I take the nearest exit to Downtown Somewhere Else.
I want to not only look past my own distress but also ignore the distress of those around me passing it off as not related to me. Generally, that's no good. It's only a patch for a hole that inevitably begins to leak as soon as I turn away. Anyway, he's just a dude doing the best he can, right? Probably. I smile and watch him shove on.
With Charlie asleep in my lap I continued to watch. There was an elderly woman sitting in a wheelchair who would need to be helped down the ramp. One of the Southwest employees helped her arrange her luggage on the metal flaps where she rested her puffy feet. She yelped as the luggage went down on top of her feet instead of between them. The attendant didn’t hear her and the woman was making faces, jerking her legs and scowling nastily. This went on for a few moments before the necessary adjustment was made. I watched and saw my own easily roused irritation play on the woman's face. I thought, I do that. I winced. I've been that attendant, too. I think she feels bad and just then I am glad I am not her.
So, what I wish for all of you this season is to be present - to stay awake no matter what's going on around you and realize that your experience is shared. We are not so special after all. Our lives are ordinary, much the same as our neighbors and it delights me to remember this. All at once I unique and absolutely nothing special - never separate.
Like the guy with the bad mustache I, too, wonder if my deodorant is working. If it's not, I think Well, today I'm Stinky Girl. It's okay, though - yesterday it was you. :)
May all of you and your beautiful families have a spectacularly imperfect holiday season!
With love,
Chantill
In my movie - the one where I am the superstar - I start to think about how I love January 1st. I jump suddenly past the next 2 weeks. Reveling in the anticipation of the freshness of the New year, I also realize that just about now my head feels like it's going to explode. I am all together a little twitchy: Worried about closing up the books for the year and the coming of taxes; Cookies for Friday; A trip to the city on Saturday; Five presents left to buy; And really nasty stuff like the lice outbreak at Charlie's school. I notice that since I am uncomfortable I take the nearest exit to Downtown Somewhere Else.
I want to not only look past my own distress but also ignore the distress of those around me passing it off as not related to me. Generally, that's no good. It's only a patch for a hole that inevitably begins to leak as soon as I turn away. Anyway, he's just a dude doing the best he can, right? Probably. I smile and watch him shove on.
With Charlie asleep in my lap I continued to watch. There was an elderly woman sitting in a wheelchair who would need to be helped down the ramp. One of the Southwest employees helped her arrange her luggage on the metal flaps where she rested her puffy feet. She yelped as the luggage went down on top of her feet instead of between them. The attendant didn’t hear her and the woman was making faces, jerking her legs and scowling nastily. This went on for a few moments before the necessary adjustment was made. I watched and saw my own easily roused irritation play on the woman's face. I thought, I do that. I winced. I've been that attendant, too. I think she feels bad and just then I am glad I am not her.
So, what I wish for all of you this season is to be present - to stay awake no matter what's going on around you and realize that your experience is shared. We are not so special after all. Our lives are ordinary, much the same as our neighbors and it delights me to remember this. All at once I unique and absolutely nothing special - never separate.
Like the guy with the bad mustache I, too, wonder if my deodorant is working. If it's not, I think Well, today I'm Stinky Girl. It's okay, though - yesterday it was you. :)
May all of you and your beautiful families have a spectacularly imperfect holiday season!
With love,
Chantill
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)