On Curiosity

I’m teaching again!

In person, in a studio, with actual real people.

And it’s beautiful. Not just because the space (which is gorgeous - all wood floors, white walls, natural light and brand new props!) holds such a powerfully gentle energy that you feel lighter just walking through the door. Not just because I’ve missed doing something that isn’t connected to my role as a mum. And not just because I get to use all the trainings I’ve accumulated over the years.

The main reason I’m so delighted to be back teaching is that I genuinely believe yoga is one of the most incredible tools we humans have at our disposal for changing literally everything.

Obviously I'm not saying that a carefully choreographed sequence is going to fix world hunger / war / poverty / greed / the rise of fascism / the climate crisis or any of the other horror shows that are currently playing out across the globe. But yoga is so much more than a set of postures. And that’s where the magic lies.

If you really pay attention, yoga teaches us how to be. Not only that, it teaches us how to be better. Taken as a collection of practices - Yama, Niyama, Asana, Pranayama, Pratyahara, Dharana, Dyhana, and Samadhi - the 8 Limbs of Yoga guide us along our path to liberation, or moksha, where we rise above our ignorance, recognise our true nature and understand ourselves to be in unity with all existence.

I’m not going to guide you through the 8 Limbs here. There are so many blog posts on them already and I’m not sure I have anything new to add. Wikipedia has an excellent entry on Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras and Healthline has a fabulous article on decolonising the 8 Limbs of Yoga if you’re interested in knowing more about the specifics.

What I do want to point out here is that, through the 8 Limbs, yoga asks us to cultivate an attitude of curiosity about ourselves and the world around us. And how that can make us more compassionate, more open, more loving, kinder (not nicer!) and more aware of how reliant we are on one another, how similar we are to one another, how linked we all are to everyone and everything on this planet and beyond. And when you know that, when you really start to dig into all of that and live from that place of curiosity, it becomes harder and harder to “other” those around you, to see anyone as your enemy, to accept without question the awful things human beings are doing to one another and our home in the name of progress or protection or economic growth or whatever new excuse the ones at the top are expecting us to buy into.

What I hope I offer through my classes is a space where folks can start feeling into this curiosity. How am I feeling today? In this moment? What am I bringing to the mat? Can I lay it down for an hour? (And do I need to pick it back up again?!) How does my breath feel? How does my body feel? Does this pose feel good in my body? Why am I pushing myself to stay in it? Can I show myself a bit more love and compassion in this moment?

And we learn over time to take that curiosity with us. Where is that person’s behaviour coming from? Why am I staying in this situation that is making me feel awful? Can I challenge the narrative here? Where is our common ground? How can I help?

Maybe that all sounds a bit heavy for a yoga class*. But curiosity is such a natural state for us to be in. Children are permanently curious in a way that is joyful and enlivening and expansive. My belief is that if we all approached life with a bit more childlike curiosity we might also learn how to treat one another with more compassion, more love, less judgement and more acceptance. And if we did that there would be no room for the horror, no room for othering, no foothold for the far right to dig into.

We could literally change everything.

Much love, Jo x

*Just FYI, I don’t believe anything is too heavy for a yoga class!

Turning 50

I turn 50 soon. In the middle of June - the best month for birthdays.

I’m a great believer in age being merely a number. Big birthdays don’t really bother me. It’s nice to have an excuse for a couple of get togethers and a special present or two (although I’m a bit stuck for ideas, which is frustrating all those closest to me…) But I don’t remember ever getting angsty at the usual milestones. I tend to see them as a doorway to the next adventure rather than a time to take stock of what’s gone before. Exciting times!

50 feels a little different. Half a century of living feels big. A lot of life. A lot of living. And it shows in our faces and our bodies. I can feel it in my memories, my emotions, my coping mechanisms, my patterns and stories. And I can see it in the three humans I’ve had a hand in creating and raising. They’re bigger now. So I must be too.

Over the last few months I’ve found myself wondering if this is the life I expected. When I was little did I think I’d be this kind of person, living this kind of life? And if not what would I want to change? Would I change anything? Should I change anything? If I had a chance to do it again, would I do it differently? I don’t know.

I look at my friends with important jobs. A lot of them have incredibly fulfilling careers that in some way define them. They seem to lend them an extra dimension and allow them to have something of their own that takes them away from the home and their roles there. I had that too once. And I have begun to wonder if I have diminished myself by turning my back on that.

But then I remember that 50 is just another number. I may groan a bit when I stand up sometimes. I might need glasses for literally everything now. But essentially I still feel incredibly young. I still feel like I’ve only just begun. In fact I probably feel that more now than I did even five years ago. I have changed and grown so much. Through my studies, my spiritual practices and the pivots I have had to take to accommodate everything life has thrown at me. And I know for sure that growth never stops. The journey is for life. So this is not a dead end. It’s not the disappointing culmination of how ever many missed opportunities. It’s just another step along the road. It’s the doorway to the next series of opportunities.

It may not be the life I imagined. But it’s the life I have. The life I’m living. And isn’t that what it’s all about? The act of living. Consciously, curiously, actively being alive. Noticing, acknowledging and being aware of what makes your life. And how your life, and the way you live it, impacts those around you.

Making every breath count, every word, every touch. Not necessarily in big ways. But being present for it all. Really living it.

Much love, Jo x

Work In Progress

I realised recently that I stopped teaching (aside from my singular, wonderful one-to-one client…) almost exactly two years ago in the midst of some fairly heavy personal shit that demanded all my time and attention, leaving little room for anything else. I sent out a wee email bidding farewell to my regulars, I parked all my social media, I disabled my website, shutting it all down with a vague promise to myself that I’d be back.

In October last year I finished a second 200 hour teaching training in Transpersonal Yoga. The course was transformative. It changed the way I practise yoga, the way I approach life, the way I feel about myself as a human being and as a teacher. And at the end of that course I was all set to start teaching again - in part because I felt that I’d better DO SOMETHING with the training. But something stopped me (spoiler - it was me - it’s always me).

Whilst nothing was wrong exactly, nothing was just right either. I tied myself in knots telling myself I had to figure out what I wanted to teach, why I wanted to teach, if I wanted to teach. And when those answers didn’t come easily I turned my attention to my online presence, thinking I’d get that sorted first and deal with the particulars once all the background stuff was perfect. Except I hate social media. I’m pretty sure Instagram actually made me ill and Facebook is just the Yellow Pages for our times. I can’t go back to Twitter or X or whatever the fuck it is because it’s awful and something strange used to happen to time when I was on it.

Which led me back to my sleeping website. A labour of love that I’m pretty sure no one ever sees but which feels safe and controllable and useful. But this website is never going to be perfect. Mostly because I still haven’t made all the decisions about what / why / if… And the thought of publishing a less than perfect anything feels a bit exposing.

But slowly, slowly I am making decisions. I want to write - something like a journal maybe - and post here regularly. I want to share things I love - books, props, self-care bits and bobs, accessories etc… I want to create and share free resources - meditations, rituals and short movement practices to support and nourish. And I've arrived at place where I can embrace the slowness of the decision making process. Where I can allow myself the space and grace to try things out and change my mind if they don’t work or don’t suit me or I don’t like them. Where I can allow what I show to the world to reflect me - unfinished, unpolished, mutable.

And so here it is, this website. A work in progress. Much like myself. Depending on your beliefs (and mine have definitely become what most would describe as a wee bit woo…) the journey never ends, we are never complete. So why hide the journey? I think as a society we are encouraged to hide it, to sanitise it in someway. Tidy it up, make it part of the hustle, make it goal oriented rather than just part of the human experience. Always working towards something but hiding the moving parts. All the shit you have to do in the background so that even the progress is slick, stage managed, produced, monetised.

I’m not going to hide the moving parts any more. It’s possibly a bit of a cop out to say that here, given that very few people are actually going to stumble upon this site without the usual social media sign posts. But it feels like quite a big step for me. I don’t have it all worked out, it’s never going to be perfect, I will almost certainly change my mind about the what / why / if many, many times. And that’s okay. That’s life.

Much love, Jo xxx