Zen and the Art of Peacekeeping

Yoga doesn't get you a pass on life

Here's the thing: Yoga doesn't get you a pass on life.

It's been a little bit frantic around here lately (I guess that can happen when you light a fire under your ass) and it hasn't always been easy to find time to ground myself and connect to who, what and where I am right now.

Yoga is usually how I ground myself, it's how I meet myself wherever I am.

But lately I've been skipping time for these grounding practices in favour of getting one more thing ticked off my to do list.

It's not that I'm grindingly busy. I'm excited and motivated and energised by what I've got going on. When you doing what you love you get less tired, I'm sure of that.

But the nervous system needs downtime even from enthusiasm and when I don't make time to get real with myself on my mat, it shows up in my life off the mat.

On Saturday morning I woke up early. It was a stunning autumn morning and I decided to go for a walk on the beach instead of practicing yoga inside. But before I went for the walk I decided to quickly check my email.

Ten hours later I got up from my computer.

There are compelling reasons why I spent my entire Saturday on the computer instead of outside in the sun helping my boyfriend dig out our old fence and prepare the posts for the new fence. They have mostly to do with a new website that I was planning to launch this week, which will now be launched next week.

I was certainly compelled by it at the time. In retrospect, it all seems a little less compelling. But that's what a little perspective will do for you, I guess.

So I sat at my desk all day, cursing at my abortive attempts to rewrite code that I don't even understand. I looked out the window at my boyfriend working in the garden and I envied him.

I also felt guilty for not helping him and my guilt made me exaggerate my displeasure at the work I was doing on my website. Whenever my boyfriend came in to check on me I felt the need to make sure he understood I wasn't having fun in there while he was out working. So I complained more about the cursed code and the endless links that I had to fix.

I didn't take a break.

I didn't go for a walk.

I didn't even go and sit in the sun for ten minutes breathing in those last beautiful rays of autumn sun.

By the end of the day I was a wreck. I was emotionally, mentally and physically spent.

So...

I picked a fight with my boyfriend. I burst into tears. I had a little meltdown.

It wasn't pretty.

Fortunately, thanks largely the last few years of regular yoga and meditation practice, I was also able to see myself with a little tenderness.

So I gave myself a pass on one bad day, read some beautiful poetry and sent myself off to bed.

When I shared this story with the 30 days of yoga participants one person said that she appreciated my honesty. She said that she had somehow imagined that as a yoga teacher I would be above this kind of frustration. So I wanted to talk a little bit about the idea that yoga is about transcending life's challenges.

As I understand yoga, it is the practice of meeting ourselves wherever we are. That means meeting ourselves, with courage and compassion, even when we are in a place of fear or anger or sadness. Rather than transcending our fears, it means meeting them. It means going through, rather than around, our fears and it means being able to look at ourselves, just as we are, with acceptance and love.

The vast array of practices that make up the path of yoga are all designed to increase our well-being and restore us to our original, unified, state. This state is called samadhi and although it is sometimes translated as bliss, I don't believe that it means the kind of trance-like bliss that involves avoiding all discomfort. Discomfort, like change, is a condition of our lives in these bodies.  

My understanding of samadhi is being able to remain fully aware, fully awake, under all conditions - even conditions that might evoke in us discomfort or fear.

The longer I practice yoga the more I notice a certain awareness that remains with me even as I allow my thoughts and feelings to lead me down a path of suffering. This awareness is always there and, if I make the time to connect with it through yoga, it always offers me a place of refuge amongst the maelstrom of my own dramas and stories.

Some people call that place of refuge God. I think of it as an awareness and presence which is always with me because it is my own essential nature. I can always rest back into that place of spaciousness and compassion because it is actually my own best self.

Ultimately, this is what yoga is about for me. Yes, yoga has given me the ass of a woman ten years younger. Yes, it has strengthened my abs, fixed my dicky back and healed my gammy hip. Yoga has done all those things for me and, if you practice regularly, it will probably do those things for you too. But I practice yoga primarily because it is a path back to my original nature.

On days like Saturday when my life off the mat reveals the results of neglecting my life on the mat for a few days, I remember why I practice yoga.

Yoga is not going to get me a pass on life. I'm still going to have to deal with new websites that don't work the way I want them to. I'm still going to lose my perspective some days. I'm probably even going to keep picking fights with my boyfriend at the worst possible moment.

But I will have a path back to that place of refuge, a way to recognise my true self in the midst of the drama and, if I choose to, to come home to myself.

Adora Svitak: What adults can learn from kids

After my post about the fabulously audacious questions children asked me about Afghanistan last week, I came across this TED talk today and knew I needed to share it with you.

Child prodigy Adora Svitak says the world needs "childish" thinking: bold ideas, wild creativity and especially optimism. Kids' big dreams deserve high expectations, she says, starting with grownups' willingness to learn from children as much as to teach.

Finding hope in my hometown

I've just arrived home after a week on the road, visiting twelve primary schools in and near my old hometown.

I grew up in Tokoroa. I think my favorite quote about Tokoroa is this one, from Wikipedia:

Famous for Maori and Pacific Islander Races and a Multicultural melting pot as all races and creeds attracted by seasonal employment at the mill.

Indeed.

I don't really think I need to add much to that eloquent testimony to the multicultural nature of my home town. The town is famous for its Races. Not the kind involving horses. 

More recently, unfortunately, my hometown has been more famous for its crime rates. A teacher at one of the primary schools I visited this week was stabbed to death in her own classroom.

Any sense of hope or possibility that existed when I was at school there seems to have gone the way of the shops in the main street, which now lie empty.

So when I was asked to do another round of motivational talks at low-income primary schools for the Duffy Books in Homes charity, I agreed on the condition that I could go home to Tokoroa.

If I was going to spend a week giving children a sense of hope that they too, despite their limited economic resources and ill-reputed hometown, can make a positive difference in the world, then I wanted it to be children in Tokoroa.

The idea is that I visit each school and talk to a full assembly about my work in Afghanistan. The official name of these assemblies are "Role Model Assemblies", but some schools call them "Hero Assembly". I'm often introduced as "Marianne Elliott, our Duffy hero". Those feel like big shoes to fill.

To give you an idea of the kind of heroes that these children might be used to hearing from, take a look at the list of notable residents in that Wikipedia entry. Out of forty seven notable residents, thirty six are athletes. Of those thirty six, twenty two play rugby.

You may also be interested to learn that Brian Tamaki - founder of Destiny Church - was once a resident of Tokoroa. So was Ben Hana - the Wellington identity better known as Blanket Man.

But my point is that when a local 'hero' turns up at a Tokoroa primary school, nine times out of ten they are going to be a sports person. I was not, to put it mildly, what these kids were accustomed to in a Duffy hero.

But at school after school I encountered a deep and engaged curiosity about the lives of children in Afghanistan. Even during the late afternoon assemblies in those final, restless days before the Easter school holidays the children were all engaged and interested.

They had dozens of questions for me. Some of them were questions I'd like to see put to the people who make the decisions that control the lives of so many Afghan children.

"If the soldiers have airplanes to fly in, why do the children have to walk so far to school? Why can't they use the planes?"

"Why did the war start in the first place?"

"How can the children grow if they only have bread to eat?"

"If they cut down all the trees, how will the children have clean air to breathe?"

"If you had a bunker at your office, what about the people in the town who didn't have bunkers? What happened to them when there were rockets?"*

My favorite part of every talk was when I asked the children to tell me what they think every child everywhere needs. Most schools get started with the basics - food, water, shelter - but there wasn't a school where the children didn't move on pretty quickly to the essentials - every child needs to be protected, cared for and loved. 

These children had no problem understanding that children in Afghanistan needed all the same things that they needed themselves.

I wondered whether it was possible that children, so often maligned for their cruelty, could be more compassionate than most adults. Is it possible that children are more able to recognise themselves in the lives, suffering and needs of others.

Maybe it's simply that children are (as child development texts tell us) egotistical, so they instinctively related everything I was saying to themselves and their own lives.

But I was left with the impression that these children might be closer to their original compassionate nature. Their natural empathy hadn't been perverted by notions of blame or racist stereotypes. They didn't get caught up in the 'story' of who was causing the suffering, they simply responded to the fact of it.

Their curiosity and their compassion gave me hope for our beleagured planet. So did the passion and patience of their teachers, but that's another post.

*I feel the need to point out that some of these questions were from the older groups I spoke with, Year 7 and 8 students who were 11 and 12 years old. I wasn't talking to the juniors about rocket attacks and bunkers!

Five questions with Ronna Detrick: What it means to tell the truth

I've got a new series of great interviews lined up with people who have a strong sense of purpose and who, in my humble opinion, have found authentic and mindful ways to be of service in the world. Each interview is made up of only five question.

First up is Ronna Detrick, who writes about spirituality, feminism and truth at her blog RENEGADEconversations. As you might imagine, she and I have plenty to talk about.

Welcome, Ronna Detrick!

Ronna, what is it that breaks your heart? What fills you with hope/joy?

My heart is broken when I see others, women particularly, live smaller, silenced lives. I’ve lived in those places – and still do at times – and so know both how painful this can be. It’s incredibly difficult to make the kinds of changes necessary to allow anything else. And it’s risky, dangerous, and filled with all kinds of ramifications. Still, to not choose to walk these paths just makes me sad. I want so much more for myself and for others.

Hope and joy are all over the place when the “smaller and silenced lives” become large and loud! I don’t know of anything more hope/joy-filled than when women make those dangerous, risky, ramification-filled moves and become their powerful, wildly beautiful, passionate, amazing selves.

What are you doing about it?

I have the privilege of having RENEGADEconversations with women all the time. In my writing and speaking I am constantly talking about what it means to tell the truth. And in my mentoring/spiritual direction, I am working with individuals in the realms of faith and feminism – inviting them to places of exploration, discovery, and strength as they unravel their own story and those they’ve heard/learned in ways that create that power, beauty, passion, and amazing-ness!

How did you get started doing this?

I was laid off from my job almost a year ago. Though I was super-disappointed and scared when that happened, it was also the impetus that compelled me toward doing the very thing I now talk about all the time: living out loud, acknowledging desire, and telling my truth. I started RENEGADEconversations in order to have incredible, transformative conversations with amazing people. It’s shifted and morphed in these past months and it’s become this powerful embodiment of me. I love that: being in a space that gives me the privilege of being authentic. It’s scary, being an entrepreneur, but I cannot imagine doing anything else!

What do you do to take care of yourself?

Besides enjoy good red wine? Well, I have gotten better about letting myself off the hook for things that feel like “shoulds” but really aren’t the best use of my time or energy. I say “no” more often. And I say “yes” to things that feed my soul: time with friends, enjoying my daughters, reading great books, watching movies, and yes, drinking red wine.

Do you have any advice for people who are trying to match their career with their passions?

When you live from that know-that-I-know-that-I-know place, everything else makes more sense. I think we really do know what we most love, what we most hope for, what brings us the most joy, and what breaks our heart. When we are willing to answer those questions truthfully (and live with the cost associate with such), it leads us into places we may not have ever dared gone, but once there, we can never leave. Admittedly, far easier said than done.

My teleseminar, Telling the Truth in Extravagant Ways, gets at this. I’d love to have you join me, Tuesday, April 13, at 6:00 (PDT). It’s totally free. Sign up by clicking on the link above. And of course, I’d love to have more RENEGADEconversatons with you!

What does yoga have to do with peacekeeping or Afghanistan?

When I started blogging I was living in Afghanistan, working as a human rights officer with the UN peacekeeping mission. These days I'm hosting '30 days of yoga'.

What happened?

When did this become a yoga blog? What does all this yoga have to do with peace-building, world-saving and human-rights defending? What does it have to do with Afghanistan?

Firstly, this isn't a 'yoga blog'.

You are as still just as likely to find me writing here about young women activists in Afghanistan, finding your purpose or how to write without writing as you are to find me writing about whether or not it is best to practice only one kind of yoga. 

What links all these topics together is my understanding that we each have a unique and essential role to play in the world.

Each of us has a unique set of experiences, skills and qualities that makes us perfectly qualified to do what it is that we do best.

When we discover where our passion and purpose lie, we are then free to follow our own authentic path to service in the world.

In my life the sense of purpose came early. What took me longer was the process of unravelling the well-hidden fears that lay beneath my good intentions and which, as long as they were unexamined and unaddressed, undermined my ability to serve.

Yoga and meditation have been my path to meet my own self.

In the sometimes terrifying stillness and clarity of the meditation cushion and the yoga mat I have finally kept company with the thoughts and feelings that I had long preferred to avoid.

By holding my seat, continuing to breath and leaning into the softness of my own exposed wounds I have been able to first glimpse, and then rest into the spaciousness that has always been here, waiting for me to sit still long enough to come home to it. 

What all of this has to do with my work as a human rights advocate and peace-builder is this:

"If we want there to be peace in the world, we have to be brave enough to soften what is rigid in our hearts, to find the soft spot and stay with it. We have to have that kind of courage and take that kind of responsibility. That's the true practice of peace."

                              Pema Chodron, Practicing Peace in Times of War.

'Bodisattva' made simple: Taking a vow to help others

“Taking the bodhisattva vow to help others implies that, instead of holding our own individual territory and defending it tooth and nail, we become open to the world that we are living in. It means we are willing to take on greater responsibility, immense responsibility. In fact, it means taking a big chance. But taking such a chance is not false heroism or personal eccentricity. It is a chance that has been taken in the past by millions of bodhisattvas, enlightened ones, and great teachers. So a tradition of responsibility and openness has been handed down from generation to generation, and now we too are participating in the sanity and dignity of this tradition.” 

                                 Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche

– via Shambhala Sunspace and Ocean of Dharma, and found in The Pocket Chogyam Trungpa

More on whether or not it is "better" to practice only one type of yoga

Last week I wrote a post asking “Is it better to do only one kind of yoga?. The comments on this post were so insightful and interesting that I decided to write a follow-up post looking at some of the responses and saying a little bit more about my experiences.

Two of the responses came from women with whom I have travelled closely along the yoga path. They are kindred spirits so it didn’t surprise me at all that they, like me, described themselves as ‘straw-suckers’.

KL said “I’ve been a straw sucker myself mainly, and sometimes feel "less than" because I've been unable to dig deep in the desert. Is that just how circumstances have manifested around me or is it because I’m lacking in commitment and focus?”

Laura F described similar feelings in her comment: “I think I may have been a bit hard on myself when, once in while, I feel like doing something aside from Kundalini.”

I think these feelings of “less than” are very common and therefore important to acknowledge. So I love, admire and thank KL and Laura for their honesty.

Life is full of opportunities for us to feel shame about who we think we should be and are not. It saddens me that yoga and our yoga practice often becomes yet another one of these opportunities.

I know KL well enough to know that she has developed a high degree of shame resilience (to borrow a term from one of the best books I’ve ever read about social expectations, perfectionism, women and shame, by Dr Brene Brown), but not all women have this resilience and as a yoga teacher and compassionate human I am mindful of not providing new shame triggers for the women (and men) who come to me for yoga teaching.

Another close companion of mine on the yoga path, Kelly, had a much more positive take on her ‘straw-sucker’ approach.

“I am a serious straw sucker. Committed even. I think there is so much to be learned and there are so many wise teachings available to us on this planet that I want to stay as open as possible to it all. What I've found is that gradually, a certain pattern emerges from the nuggets of wisdom I've collected and forms a cohesive picture. Where there is convergence of information from many different sources, there tends to be a strong resonance for me. When the good people of the world, the serious seekers and the wise leaders have independently come to the same conclusion I know there must be a universal value or truth to their words. Where there is disagreement, there is still a wealth of value to be gained. The more information I have in my toolkit, the more people I can attempt to understand or to connect with. As a teacher, I find that immensely valuable. As a human being, I find that absolutely necessary.”

I personally share many aspects of Kelly’s experience. I’ve learned from many great teachers; some have been yoga teachers, some have been Buddhist teachers, two of them are my mother and father – born-again Christians who live with true service and compassion.

I also find it useful to be able to draw on different approaches when I work with students. Different styles, different language, different practices will work for different people.

On the other hand, I have total respect for the teacher who has found an approach, a language and a set of practices that works for her and who teaches this approach exclusively. She knows that she will attract to her the people for whom this approach resonates and works. That also makes great sense to me.

Evolution towards diving deeper?

Radha suggested that the difference between drawing from different traditions and immersing oneself in just one tradition was a matter of progression or evolution. She explained that in her experience:

“When you're ready, you'll find the one practice and stick with it, but until then will keep searching and trying different things, which will be useful, informative and help you grow and you'll convince yourself it's the right way because we all want to feel what we do is right!! When your consciousness evolves to the next level, you probably won't even talk about the one practice and one practice alone that you do. And you'll understand why, but there aren't words to emphasise the importance of one practice, just an individual souls own experience.”

I have to confess that this was the comment that gave me the most pause. Unlike all the other commenters, Radha seemed to be suggesting that one approach was better than the other. That one is an evolution on from the other, a progression, a deepening, an improvement. Perhaps she is right. Perhaps I’m just convincing myself that my approach is ‘right’ for me because my consciousness hasn’t evolved to the point that I can understand the importance of one practice. I happily concede this is quite possible.

In all fairness, my description of my approach to yoga and the spiritual path may not have been very clear. Radha seemed to have been left with the impression that I was “dipping my toes” into the water. In response to this she expressed a beautiful wish:

“I hope everyone finds their one practice soon, it will be nothing like the gentle toe dipping of different practices. It's like diving into water, however far under the ground it may be, and stopping breathing, and fighting and struggling for your survival, and then magically realising that it's ok, you can surrender because you have actually always been able to breathe in that very water, you just weren't aware of it. It's the hardest thing in life to do, but whilst dipping in different waters, you'll be safe from this experience.”

Deep water and thin ice

When I read this I knew that I recognised Radha’s description of the deep water. Although I am interested in learning about and from different traditions, I have certainly found the practices that throw me into my own deep water. I’ve felt the ground fall away from under my feet. I’ve been left floating in the waters of not-knowing and I’ve learned that – despite my powerful desire to hang on to something solid – it is possible to surrender to that not-knowing and let everything be exactly as it is. So perhaps the straw-sucking metaphor was misleading. Perhaps a better image is that I was always standing on such thin ice that it only took 21 days of a zen-style meditation practice to throw me in over my head in my own deep water.

Different appetites and a varied diet

On the other hand, my friend T-bone (yes, he was the person who I was eavesdropping on in the first place) proposed an analogy of our practices being like our food:

“I think of spiritual path like the food I eat. What works for me may not provide you with what you need and vice versa. Over time, my appetite changes and we all know variety is the garam masala. Personally, I like my diet varied with high concentrations of my favorites while having the odd import is good too. Samskara, Karma and Dharma is so intensely individual. What Marianne overheard was actually part of a very personal narrative. Rather than 'better' (after all upon comparison one always loses through dividing, separating) perhaps more union-fostering would be 'relevant' its more kind, non-violent even.”

Thanks T-Bone! You rock figuratively as well as literally. Yes, it is possible to be a sensitive and committed yoga teacher and a rock star. T-Bone is living proof of that.

Better vs. More Useful - choosing union over separation

I was so glad that T-Bone took issue with the word “better” in the title of this post. It’s not a union-fostering word at all, and since union is at the heart of all yoga it seems a poor choice of word for this question.

I much prefer to ask what is most useful for each person. Which practices add most to your well-being and to your deepening awareness of the union of all beings? If the practice of yoga (and most Buddhist practices) is intended to help dissolve the illusion that we are separate, then it seems unhelpful to ask a comparative question that emphasises that very illusion.

Dhyan made a similar point, albeit more beautifully, when he pointed out that:

“There has never been any real reason to worry since all small individual rivers are already on their way to the ocean, to the Whole. It is not about swimming, it is about relaxing and to float with the river in a basic trust that life already leads towards the sea of consciousness, towards the Whole.”

Word, bro!

BZ also suggested that “once you've climbed the yoga tree, you can sit on any of its branches and get the same view.  … I've found that good teachers and different types of yoga help me to connect to the same source.”

This has also been my experience. The source remains the same. The practices and paths that help us connect to that source may vary, but we’ll recognise it when we get there.

We are all one, but we are not all the same

Many of the comments reinforced T-Bone’s point that “what works for me may not provide you with what you need and vice versa.” Jim pointed out that:

“Everyone is different. It is so great that many people can try different things in which to improve themselves, hopefully finding one or a few that really 'hit pay dirt' so easily. But like some of your readers pointed out, sometimes there are few choices. All things change. Maybe someone's practice is 'perfect' for them, but there is no guarantee that it will be that way for their whole life. Our 'outer' practice is just that. It helps with our 'inner' practice so one shouldn't get too attached to it, no matter how good it is.”

Kelly said:

“I think it comes down to knowing your own nature. Some of us are straw suckers and would never be satisfied only drinking from one well. Some have to go deep and stay in one pool. And I think it depends on who you are which path you take. I too, love and respect that deep-digger friend of yours immensely. It is my opinion that he is on the right path for him. And I think I'm on the right path for me. And we've got a lot to learn from each other. Beware judging yourself harshly. When you follow the path that feels authentic to you, whether it's a path strewn with holes poked by your straw or one deep channel downward, you can't go wrong.”

True dat, sister!

The final word on all of this goes to Laura F, who made a very good – and very practical point.

“Perhaps as a beginner, like me, it would help to dig deep - to learn how to stay focused, work on your commitment, intention etc, just to strengthen your yoga base.”

Laura, I think you are probably right. That’s certainly been my experience and the advice of my teachers and at the end of the day that's all I've got to go on.

Thanks to all the people who commented including the awesome comments that I haven’t quoted here because this post was becoming very, very long. I’d love to keep this conversation going so let me know what you think!

Finding your purpose

The journey to Afghanistan

That's me, during one of my beloved walks into the hills around Chegcharan, where I lived for six months of my time in Afghanistan. If you look closely you can see the village of Chegcharan in the distant background, to the upper right of the picture. You have to look carefully because the mud-brick buildings blend so well into the landscape.

My personal journey to Afghanistan began when I understood, very early in my life, that resources and opportunities were not shared fairly around the world. When I was a pre-schooler my parents moved to Papua New Guinea to work as missionaries and I came to see just how unevenly the world's resources are spread.

Finding my purpose

As a child I knew that I couldn't just accept things the way they were. I needed to find a way to live my life that would be adding to the stock of justice and well-being for all. Because I was a talkative (okay, an argumentative) little thing, the obvious route was human rights law. I found my path early and I didn't deviate from it. I had a sense of strong purpose and an even stronger sense of connection to the global community. People everywhere were my people. I was called to act globally.

More recently, as my life has moved through the seasons that a life moves through, I have been moved towards acting more locally. Yesterday I taught the second session of a seven week Yoga in Action course here in my local community. 

Discovering your unique role in life

The course was developed by Seane Corn, Hala Khouri and Suzanne Sterling of Off the Mat, Into the World. I was trained by them this past summer, and now I'm preparing to offer this course here in New Zealand.

The purpose of the course is to support the participants to embark on a journey of self-inquiry, with the support of a small group, that leads to action within our community and outside world. "Action" here could mean anything from healing relationships with family and friends, to extending oneself to the larger community, or to doing national or international work.

The heart of the process is to know ourselves, uncover our motivations and our purpose, to understand the nature both of our interdependence and of our unique role in the web of life. Your unique experiences - including the challenges - have given you insights, strengths and abilities that enable you to serve others in a way that nobody else could do.

You have a purpose, you are needed

Right now this work seems more important than ever. In the wake of a tragedy on the scale of the earthquake in Haiti so many of us are left wondering what more we could be doing.

Some of us are called to act globally. Some of us are moved to act locally. Some of us are the manual labourers of change, others of us are the architects. Some of us are drawn to large-scale change, others know that our strength is in our ability to give our full attention to the small things that add up to everything.

Whatever your style, you do have a purpose and you are needed. We are all needed and together, we are enough.

If you'd like to know more about the Yoga in Action courses and how you can find out about them in your area, leave me a comment.

How you can help raise money for Haiti AND kick-start your yoga for 2010

I haven't had much to say here about the terrible situation in Haiti. There really isn't much to say that hasn't already been said, although I have been more talkative over at Twitter where I've been sharing good the good advice I get from experts in the field about the best ways to respond and help.

I'd like to be able to give more money to the most credible organisations helping with the emergency response in Haiti. So I've decided to re-offer my "Energising and opening" 40 minute yoga video, plus weekly support for the next 30 days to kick start your yoga practice. All for only $50.

All proceeds from anyone who signs up today will go to Haiti via Oxfam. I choose Oxfam because I've worked with them, know them well and have utter confidence in their ability on the ground. I also choose Oxfam because they have been working in Haiti for some time and already have people, relationships and resources on the ground. But there are many other good, solid organisations already working in Haiti who are also well placed to respond.

You get all the support you need to start your year with yoga - which means with well-being, balance and focus - and we both get to help people who deserve all that we can do and more.

I was inspired to make this offer by Danielle La Porte, who inspired, and Kelly Diels, who initiated, the Help Haiti Blog Challenge.

Why I'm not choosing a word for 2010

Lots of my friends and favorite bloggers have been doing as the fabulous Ali Edwards does and choosing one single word to lead them into 2010. I love everything about this idea. I certainly like it better than New Years resolutions. But I won't be choosing a word. Here's why.

2009 was the year I fulfilled two big, crazy dreams. I became a yoga teacher and I wrote my book. A few weeks ago I finally sent query letters and sample chapters out to potential agents and publishers. A few months back I realised I was never going to finish the book while I was working at Oxfam. I was just a little bit too passionate about that job to make the time I needed to get any writing done. Well, I was a bit too passionate and Oxfam was a bit too INSANELY busy. Either way, I quit my job in the middle of a recession and devoted myself to teaching yoga and writing. 

I didn't have a word for 2009. I just had my wild dreams. Yoga and a book. I've always been good at wild dreams. I'm good at coming up with them and I'm pretty good at the follow-through that it takes to make them happen. I can be very determined once I set my mind on something. There are some Afghan warlords and other people who've been the subject of my one-woman human rights campaigns who can vouch for that. 

2009 was a year of being afraid (that I wouldn't be good enough, that I couldn't do it) and doing it anyway. It was a year of uncovering the solid base that can and will hold me even if I do 'fail', if the leaps of faith I'm taking lead me somewhere other that where I thought I wanted to be. In retrospect I decided that the word for my 2009 was courage.

I have plenty of big dreams for 2010. I dream that my book will be published and that Oprah will tell everyone to read it, you know, as an antidote to all the books that tell us Afghanistan is a f$#ked up mess that has no redeeming features. I dream about being paid to go back to Afghanistan and Gaza and East Timor to take photos of the people I met there, the bravest people I've ever met anywhere, and to help them tell their stories to the world. I dream about helping people like you uncover your superpower and then unfurling it upon an unsuspecting world to do more good than you've ever dreamed of. I dream about finding more ways to help people like you help people like Faezeh make their dreams come true.

I have plenty of big dreams. That has never been a problem for me. I have no idea where it came from, this ability to dream with such unbounded audacity, but I'm grateful for it.

I also have my own approach to my dreams. I'm not much for annual plans, strategic plans, New Year's resolutions. They all leave me a bit cold. I like to plant my wild dreams like seeds. Then I tend the soil. I weed out anything nasty, anything that could strangle a budding dream or steal it's sunshine. I do everything I can to give those dreams the best damn garden they could ask for and then I trust them to grow and blossom when the climate is just right.

This New Year I've got some big dreams planted. So I'll be starting my year by tending my garden. One way that I do that is to start my year with a 30 day yoga practice. I'll be starting on 15 January, which is the first new moon of 2010. I've planned a special practice, which will bring more of what is lacking into my life and which will balance out that which is abundant.

There is still lots of time to join me. I'd love to have your company for the journey. I can't offer you the customised 'Exactly what you need' option any more, those places have all been snapped up, but I can give you 'Just what you need'. Alternatively, you may already know what you need, in which case just join us for the journey. If you have some big dreams planted, then come tend the garden with me. We'll create space for them to grow and make sure they are taking root in fertile and nurturing soil.

PS: If you think you'd like some help finding those wild dream seeds to plant, then I can highly recommend Mondo Beyondo, Andrea and Jen's e-course in dreaming big. The next course starts on 11 January and registrations are still open. Go, plant some seeds and then join me to tend the soil.