about yoga soup






		As you read this, you’re aware of your breath, smoothing it out, noticing if your belly is too tight, shoulders too high, jaw too hard. These are choices we make, to harbor tension in our bodies or release it. Relax. Maybe it’s that simple. Maybe we’ve confused tension with strength. Breathe, soften ... show your heart. Right action occurs naturally when not coerced toward a pre-determined outcome. Don’t insist poses fit concepts of what you think poses should resemble. We flow, loose and natural, demanding nothing from the pose, allowing rather its mystery to emerge from behind each breath. *Breathe, with the shoulders at ease. Feel* the difference when we’re not gripping. Out of relaxation comes a power that’s balanced and useful, not lopsided and greedy.


	We’re here, together, to reflect life’s preciousness, to dance and delight in our shifting forms. To celebrate being alive at every stage, without clinging to a particular age or mindset or set of material circumstances. The practice of yoga becomes synonymous with the flow of life.




	Classes are offered on a donation basis. Suggested donation: $14.

The decision to operate Yoga Soup on a donation basis came from the same place all my teaching does, out of my own life experience. There has been no more valuable asset in my life, no clearer mirror for self-reflection, no better path to physical health, emotional balance and mind/body awareness than yoga. There was a time, not long ago, where I was unable to afford the steep price of southern California yoga. I was living in Santa Monica, barely getting by, and the cost of practicing yoga every day was beyond my financial reach. Were it not for some yoga-teaching friends of mine who invited me to attend class as their guests (thank you Steve Ross, Saul Raye and Seane Corn) and the flexibility of Bryan Kest’s donation box, I would've been unable to attend class at a time when my life was in a sweeping and uncertain flux and attending class felt very, very important.

What comes around, you may have heard, goes around. Each stage of our lives brings with it different needs and capabilities and we take turns playing the role of “giver” and “receiver,” without pride or shame, without getting stuck in either one. The donation box is meant to unite, not distinguish.

Please remember to make a donation. If you can’t afford fourteen dollars, pay twelve dollars and so on down the line. Make it part of your practice to have your donation ready before class and drop it in the box. The intention is to offer a temporary option for those who can’t afford fourteen dollars to maintain their practice. Forgetting to pay, or paying simply what’s in your pocket at the time won’t support this effort in the long run. Like all relationships in the universe, if this one is taken advantage of and abused it will cease to function properly.



	Try to be on time, but if you arrive late or must leave early minimize your impact on the community by being mindful of your movements. That is the real yoga. A few suggestions: If you’re late, enter the studio quietly, as ready for class as possible. Unravel your mat outside the door, change your clothes in your car, take a few centering breaths before you enter. If the class is in meditation or in the midst of a talk, sit quietly by the side of the room until it’s appropriate to find a space. In spite of certain thoughts you might have, know you are always welcome. Sometimes we can't be on time, or our work/life schedule forces us to be late but consistently arriving late for class shows a lack of respect for the community and wrecks havoc with your nervous system. Make that your practice. Refrain from using perfume. When I first began teaching there was one student who smelled as if she was attacked by the aromatherapy bandit. For weeks I debated whether to say anything and when I finally did, she listened, smiled ... and I’ve never seen her since. Anything that criticizes our image and hygeine are sensitive topics. Compassion underscores our practice. What may smell very nice to you may feel like an olfactory assault to someone else. In a confined space like a yoga class where the focus is on our breath, keeping the air clear is essential. The smell of sweat is normal. Let’s learn to enjoy it. If you bring water, be mindful where the bottle is, how and when you open it. I am amazed when students decide in the middle of shavasana to snap open their water bottles and take a loud gurgling slug. The poses we do are designed to build internal heat (tapas), creating a crucible for physical and spiritual transformation to occur. Most everyone would benefit from drinking more pure, preferably distilled water, but during class is not the optimum time to quench one's thirst. There’s tremendous latitude to explore poses in class, however during shavasana we join together in *svadhyaya* silent, uninterrupted self-observation. We can’t turn off the outside world of voices and car horns. We can’t help on occasion falling asleep and snoring. Those interrruptions become part of our meditation, allowing us to grow our capacity to accept what’s happening. We can, however, choose not to shuffle around, or decide, hey, a backbend might feel nice right now, or hum a show tune. If you know you must leave early, leave before shavasana instead of in the middle and have your clothes and belongings ready to exit. Put your shoes on outside. Unless you're a doctor or midwife there's no reason to bring your cell phone to class. If we can't be out of touch with the world for two hours than that in itself is valuable information to meditate upon. More importantly, if your cell phone starts ringing PLEASE ANSWER IT. Letting it ring to avoid embarrasment is a clear non-acceptance of what is happening. Making a mistake is normal; not taking responsibility for it creates suffering. If you sweat, bring a towel. No hard liquor during class. Beer and wine only. No rules are necessary, really, if we infuse into every gesture kindness, consideration and compassion. Eat Your Heart Open