10/2/25 Live Session Recording

Thank you so much for sharing the recording. I was sorry to miss the live session this week and may need to step back for the next couple of weeks while I continue recovering from surgery.

I really appreciated the exploration of chair-supported trauma-informed sequencing, especially the reminder that slowing down can actually deepen safety and presence for participants. The discussion on Svadhyaya also stood out to me, as it gave me space to notice some of my own habits and tendencies, both as a facilitator and personally. It was a good reminder that self-study is ongoing and can guide how I adapt practices while staying grounded in trauma-informed principles.

In terms of the prompts:

• Slowing down can sometimes feel challenging in fast-paced environments, but I notice that when I let myself trust the slower rhythm, it creates more connection and makes the practice more meaningful.
• Svadhyaya is showing up for me right now in the way I’m paying attention to my own recovery, noticing patterns in how I approach rest and healing, and seeing how that mirrors the patience I want to bring into facilitation.
• The balance between adaptation and integrity feels most alive for me when I think about offering practices to groups with a wide range of needs. I find that being clear on my intention while allowing flexibility keeps me aligned with trauma-informed values.

I’m grateful to be able to stay connected through the recordings and will continue reflecting on these themes as I heal.

I remember when I first started practicing yoga, slower sessions made me incredibly uncomfortable. I would become bored, agitated, annoyed as I waited for the next pose. Now, I crave the slow classes which are yin or restorative based. My body is so used to being in hustle mode that slowing down feels like a real treat and something I need, not something I tolerate!

This class felt a little different. Also, my sleep hygiene is so off kilter. In terms of hobbies/play I love this noticing. Laurel brought up such a good point that being funny is such a genuine form of artful playfulness that, I too, throughly enjoy. Love a good knee slapper. 

My daughter has really broadened my desire to remain playful, Sesame Street, it's hilarious! Plus I like to keep her imagination alive by playing make believe a lot. We plant rainbows and play pirates. Ha. 

In terms of my own hobbies, I have a lot of interests. I too buy things and am like I am going to start crocheting and then I am awful at it and it sits in a drawer! But I have recently started running and I find that very joyful and regulating. It really makes me pay attention to breath in a different way than yoga does, which leads me to the topic of slow practices. 

Before the pandemic I was really into hot vigorous vinyasa, then when the pandemic hit I had no choice but to chill out and find my own vibe. I started following Jessamyn Stanley on IG and she has her own online yoga studio. It was my first foray into realizing yoga could be wildly different than what I was used to in yoga classes. That yoga could in fact be accessible and inclusive. Slower practices became the norm and this is the season I am in. I like other outlets to make it make it more vigorous and that is just where I am right now. But many people have the pre-conceived notion that yoga is slow and not what they want because they like lifting or running. 

I want to be able to bring the regulatory practices to everyone. It would be so cool to be able to shift someone's perspective from I can't do this, this isn't mine to omg this is so beneficial. I think often times, going back to hobbies, ( this ties into what I am trying to say) That all or nothing mentality, like I  must do yoga every day it must be fast all the pranayama all the hobbies, being "good" is what matters. because what this style of yoga teaches me, is that showing up is enough. I am not sure I get that in other modalities or sports. Come as you are, when I was in the studio space I was obsessed with wanting to achieve advanced postures and I would look around and be so sad that I could not achieve crow pose no matter how hard I tried. I even snapped my wrist once! 

Allowing space for myself to be taught in ways that are accessible to my body at, a slower pace, all let me feel authentic and I think that is the goal of this post lineage offering we are being taught. not to mention that autonomy is the powerhouse of the cell. I don't know who would benefit from a vigorous style of yoga, versus who would benefit from a slow flow. (so speak) and I am not sure it is my job to know either, simply, it has taken me so long to even fathom feeding my needs let alone being able to articulate them. and then adding my body's needs on top of that. Wild. What I think happens is that many people, myself included, which is why I am awake at 3:30am EST trying to complete all my tasks, is that I have an addiction to wanting to move so I don't think. It's easy to just fly in the wind but oh so hard to manage my breath and remain well, "unproductive"

So I think sometimes that can be the harm we are causing are selves - I know I was for years, by thinking I needed a fast paced practice when really I just wanted to check it off my Todo list. Like yes, did I all the sun sals, did all those side planks, snapped my wrist. I am the golden god of productivity and I didn't check in with myself once about what I actually needed! Winning. 

Just a different perspective, that the fast paced efforts might be causing us harm as well! But again, it is not my job to know what someone else needs. 

I don't have much to say about self study, I think the very act of taking this cohort, was an act of tapas and self study. So we are already practicing yoga! 

I am going to post the link again for the WhatsApp Group! 

https://chat.whatsapp.com/EXE2HTu4ukX0CmZalIq2YL

In the past, slowing down has been quite difficult for me; feelings of guilt would arise alongside narratives that I should be doing more or being more productive. For many years I gravitated towards fast yoga practices that required lots of physical strength and exertion. It is only in recent times that I have come to appreciate slowing down both in yoga practice and in life. Through facilitating in a slower, more intentional way, we demonstrate to ourselves and others that it is ok to ‘go with the slow’ and to rejuvenate in a manner that honors our unique path and journey.

I find that when I slow down with anything (writing, speaking, responding, teaching), I access a deeper, wiser part of myself. Because this has helped me, I naturally teach a slower paced gentle yoga class with longer pose holds. When I took a previous YTT, my teacher once took us on a mindful labyrinth walk. The slow pace drove me crazy, and I wanted to scream! I found myself fighting it. Later I realized that if I had just let go of my sense of urgency and allowed myself to be carried by the pace, I would have had a much better experience.

Svadhyaya is the one Yama/Niyama that seems to come easily to me. I have always been deeply curious about myself and love to learn new things (as long as they’re my choice 😊).  The part of Svadhyaya that is challenging to me is experiencing guilt about things I may have done in the past that I now regret. I have the quote from Maya Angelou hanging in my yoga room that says “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” That helps remind me that I am not the same person I was. I also struggle with worry about the future. When you said, “Worry is the way we steal the most from ourselves and others,” that really resonated with me. I have no control over others or the future, so I just cause suffering to myself when I worry. So that is my Svadhyaya. It is both pure and messy and mirrors life. But I believe the messy part helps most with my facilitation. It helps me see the humanity in the participants. And it helps them see my humanity. And through our shared humanity, we are one.

When I signed up to be a yoga facilitator, it became incumbent upon me to individualize my classes for the participants who showed up. Students with different body types, injuries, traumas, and varying degrees of experience with yoga. It is important that all yogis feel like they’ve had the opportunity to practice their yoga in the class I facilitate. It is a tall order! I can individualize the program by offering invitations, choices, modifications and by modeling. The most important thing I need to do however, is accept and honor each individual. Then hopefully they honor themselves. To do this I need to observe, hear, and see, the students before me.  I have to let go of my planned class, my biases, expectations, and be present.

My personal yoga practice up until this training has always been fast-paced and intense. I’ve enjoyed Ashtanga, Bikram, and other rigorous vinyasa style flows. In the past I have found slower-paced yoga practices such as Yin or restorative flows to be boring, and I have associated them with being ineffective. Svadhyaya is showing up for me right now as I learn what my true intentions were when I would practice those intense styles of yoga. I was not trying to regulate my nervous-system, I was there to burn calories, get stronger, and gain flexibility. I wanted to be able to do all the crazy advanced postures so I could take pictures and post them on social media for the likes. Truth is, I wanted the attention. Chasing this excessive need eventually caused me to injure myself. Right now, I am completely unable to do any yoga as I am currently rehabbing my hip. It has been a long and grueling process, and hopefully I will not need surgery to repair it. When I am finally able to return to yoga, I will have very limited range of motion and ability. This has been quite humbling. However, I believe this will allow me to have the insight necessary when facilitating to understand where my students are coming from. Armed with empathy, having had a similar experience, I will be better able to help them.

Thank you again for providing such an amazing container to learn, practice and commune together. 

This was another great transmission. 

This weeks class and yoga practice reminded me of a quote from Jack kornfield, “Live in joy, in peace, even among the troubled. Look within, be still, free from fear and grasping. Know the sweet joy of living in the way.” 

I resonate deeply with practices that draw attention to breath and the stillness within. I am often the slowest practitioner when I take yoga/asana classes. I enjoy/benefit from feeling into each movement and connect to breath pattern. If I loose connection i will oven ground through my feet and breath in for five counts and then breath out for five counts. Sharon Salzberg (meditation teacher) states, “The healing is in the return.”  I find this to be true in both meditation and yoga. 

For me, Svadhyaya(self-study) is important. I have been planting seeds in the garden of self discovery for what seems like a life time. I am only aware of this human experience and want to learn or allow for as much grace as possible along the way. The wisdom traditions have helped me deepen my connection with nature, family and love. For this reason I try to water and nurture self study as much as possible. 

This journey has truly been a tremendous mystery. 

“As the crickets’ soft autumn hum
is to us
so are we to the trees
as are they
to the rocks and the hills.”

-Gary Snyder

• We spoke about the pace of practice—and some of the challenges or barriers that can come up when offering slower, more intentional movement in certain environments. How do you relate to the idea of slowing down? What feels possible, supportive, or difficult about pacing in your facilitation?

I enjoy the idea of slowing down in theory, but I find I either quickly zone out or feel restless when I slow down my pace. I think it comes more naturally to me when I am facilitating a slow practice versus participating in one. I do notice in my own facilitation I like to create moments of pause/breath without over-facilitating cues for breathing (perhaps because of my own history with shortness of breath, I think it is better for people to find their own natural breathing rhythm). 

• How does the practice of Svadhyaya (self-study) show up for you right now? Are there patterns, habits, or truths you’re noticing about your facilitation, or about yourself, that invite deeper curiosity?

I think I am becoming aware of how difficult it can be for me to embark in self-study because I find my primary mode of operation to be adapting to change. While this is something I am proud of, I think it makes it harder to separate habits/patterns/truths formed out of adaptation versus habits/patterns/truths formed from desire. In some ways, adaptation is a core desire of mine (not least of which for survival), but I notice the seasons in my life when I am more settled I have room to explore self-study more deeply. 

• In our discussion, we explored how adapting a practice for specific participants requires flexibility and creativity while staying true to trauma-informed principles. What feels most alive for you in this balance between adaptation and integrity?

Just started touching on this above, but I think it is really a constant and subtle battle to find parts of oneself forged from creativity/integrity versus necessity. In some ways, part of the reason I shy from over-cueing is to give participants the room to create the modifications they need without having to over-categorize themselves as unable or inflexible, etc. There is risk to this freedom, however, without offering basic instruction on modifications for particular injuries/pain spots. I hope to explore this balance between adaptation and integrity further in the coming weeks, both within myself and in my facilitation.

Thanks for the recording. Work has been particularly hectic for me lately and I have missed being in community with all of you. 

The thought of slowing down makes me a little anxious. I feel like things are moving so quickly for me right now, trying to keep up with all the developments at the federal level that impact the work I do. I feel like I have been going 100 miles per hour since January and I don't think I can slow down and do my job to the best of my ability. At least not in the current moment. Maybe the solution is just finding a few minutes for stillness every day.

As for self-study, yoga has been a huge part of that journey for me over the past several years and in particular over that last several months. I was talking before about the pace of my life over the last several months. Yoga has been the one place where I can actually turn off my brain and listen to the wisdom that is already inside of me.

Thank you, Daniel, for the Jack Kornfield quote, that was beautiful and really resonated with me.

Lately, my relationship with pacing has become a mirror for how I hold space for both myself and others. When I guide chair-supported or trauma-informed sessions, the slowing down is never just about movement — it’s about nervous system conversation. There’s a tenderness in learning how to trust quiet moments without rushing to fill them, how to let silence become an active part of the practice. Some participants find that silence unsettling at first, and honestly, so did I when I began this work. It’s taken time to understand that slowing down isn’t passive; it’s profoundly relational. It requires presence, sensitivity, and enough self-regulation within me to hold others in the uncertainty that arises when the body finally has permission to feel safe enough to soften.

Svādhyāya — self-study — keeps showing me where my old conditioning still hides behind my facilitation. The part of me that once believed “holding space” meant “fixing” is learning that what really heals is attunement, not achievement. Hari once said that studying scripture is less about memorizing than about being changed by what you study, and I think about that often when I’m guiding a group through breathwork or meditation. Self-study in my teaching now means watching how my energy shifts when I’m in front of a group: Do I contract when someone dissociates? Do I rush to fill silence because I fear I’ve lost their attention? These small awarenesses are my real sādhana — noticing without judgment, and choosing integrity over performance.

Adaptation and integrity have become almost the same practice for me. In my Group Yoga Therapy for Trauma sessions, some days the most therapeutic choice is to stay with breathwork and grounding the whole hour, never moving beyond the chair. In Mood Support, the energy might open enough for Metta or a gentle body scan. I’ve stopped measuring the “success” of a class by how much we do and started honoring what unfolds naturally when safety is prioritized. I’m learning that adapting doesn’t mean diluting — it means aligning. Staying rooted in the principles of trauma-informed yoga allows creativity to emerge from care rather than from control.

This season of Svādhyāya feels less like studying and more like remembering — remembering to teach from my own regulated center, remembering that the practice is not mine to perfect but to embody. Every time I facilitate, the room (or the Zoom space) becomes a living mirror reflecting the next layer of my own healing. And that, I think, is the truest study of all.

I really enjoyed and was challenged by the conversation we had in class about the pace of practice. I feel a bit weird in this conversation because I have always thought of myself as an outsider in yoga environments—I’m fat, uncoordinated, arthritic, and Black in practice spaces that tend to be very white. Before this training, I always self-conceptualized as one of the intended beneficiaries of accessible, slow practice styles. I have never set foot in a Bikram or Ashtanga class, and the idea of attempting a handstand or even crow pose is not even appealing to me. So, I came into this thinking that basically, whatever I liked and benefited from in yoga would be something that would be considered appropriate for introducing people to yoga, and I thought maybe there would be *slight* tweaks in a prison setting.

During this class, I finally accepted that I’ve self-conceptualized my yoga practice wrong. While everything I said above is true, what keeps me coming back to yoga is not its accessibility, but its challenge. I love fast vinyasa classes that I can’t easily keep up with. I have weak balance, so I love when class is full of tree poses and flamingo and warrior III, etc. so I can work on it. I remember that when I started, even though wheel pose was really, really far from me then, I loved seeing people do it while I did bridge pose or child’s pose, almost aspirationally. I didn’t see the fact that I couldn’t do the so-called “full expression” of the pose as any reason for me to feel unwelcome in yoga. I loved seeing teachers and more advanced practitioners put on a “yoga show.” I even love the Sanskrit terms for poses, and not because it feels more authentic. When I first started, I loved hearing them because it felt like something new and exciting that made yoga …delightfully mysterious. If I didn’t know what the posture meant, I could look around the room and figure it out. Now that I’m not new, the Sanskrit words are like a special code that I’ve gotten to unlock because I’ve spent so many hours on my mat, embedding the lingo into my subconscious. When I’ve disliked certain yoga studio or group experiences, it’s often been because there wasn’t enough “interesting” flow or Sanskrit or yoga philosophy…

But I know that many people are not like this. I even think of my best friend, who looks way more the typical American yogi than I do. Even so, I’ve only gotten him to explore yoga more regularly once I encouraged him to go to a much slower, Iyengar-inspired class where they spend several minutes on a single pose. Even though he is an athlete, in vinyasa classes he loses interest because he doesn’t like not being able to keep up. That makes a lot of sense.

All of this means that many of the bits that have drawn me to and kept me engaged in yoga are antithetical to accessibility. I’ve had to more deeply internalize the lesson not to project my own experience and needs onto other people—even people who seem at first blush similar to me.

This relates a bit to my thinking about Svadhyaya. I’ve spent my entire life focused on studying other people—as a survival mechanism as a child, and then professionally in my research career. But because I have not been as devoted to self-study, I have not been great at drawing a dividing line between how I see myself and how I see others who seem like me. As I move into this next phase of life, I’m aware of how important self-study is.

But as I was trying to ask in class – to what end? I believe that Svadhyaya is valuable. But it was unclear to me in our conversation about whether I should think of self-study as an end-in-itself or a tool for some kind of greater outcome, such as healing or bliss. There are things that I know about myself that I haven’t scratched deeply into, but I suspect that if I dug deeper on them, they aren’t things that are possible to truly heal from or to resolve. They are more things I have to surrender to. Does healing come from mere surrender? Anyway, these are some of the questions I am tangling with after engaging with this week’s materials.

Thanks always for the opportunity to reflect!

I'm typing this after submitting my reflection that took an hour to write after watching the recording. I pressed 'add reply' and the next screen popped up (see attachment) and It disappeared and hadn't saved, I'll copy and paste my reflection on Svādhyāya — self-study after this, but I'm caught with when this has happened in life before: losing something precious and deeply meaningful for whatever reason, a glitch, a technical error, a human error, whatever. In the past I would have been devastated and my day ruined. This morning, I'm sat here really calmly and quite philosophical about it. Maybe that was meant to happen, destined, or pre-ordained, or meant to be, and this experience and my Biopsychospiritual response  to it is yoga and my learning about myself.

Honestly - I'm searching for the familiar reactions and feelings and they are not there. How odd. I'm changing. Those long, open, honest, and vulnerable paragraphs have disappeared into the ether and no-one will read them, but I wrote them. Copy and paste into a Word document next time.

How odd. I almost don't know myself, and yet the experience has grown me for me to see. 

Impressions from the January cohort on Svādhyāya:

They're not there. Not in my email, and blank boxes in Week 13 from the January course. I'm going to come back to this after breakfast. I'll post this and write a part 2 because I can feel the onset of madness or brain fog! I know that this experience in itself is all yoga. Maybe in addition to the tech error photos off the laptop I'll just post 2 pics of the 2 pages of notes I made form watching the recording.

Maybe - this is what was meant to be? Who knows.

Edit to follow...

Part 2: I've had breakfast, made my wife a cup of tea, and got my counselling room ready for my first client at 9am. I'm good to go, and in the back of my mind and the centre of my heart since 3am this morning has been the process of responding to losing the most incredible piece of writing that this class session inspired in me. Can I say thank you to you Jen and everyone for bringing your beautiful selves. I saw and felt myself in each of you, and Robert, despite your absence so compassionately shared by Kelley. I feel blessed this morning to have had this experience to myself, to inform me of you, and bring understanding at a greater and deeper level to me. Of me! I have no memes, no quotes, no images I've screen captured on my iPhone. Just an awareness of myself at a deeper level that REALLY bizarrely leaves me feeling calm, connected, and gentle.

A part of the Namaste prayer comes to mind when I reflect on me in relations to each of you:

'...that place in you which is of love. light, peace, and joy...'

Have a wonderful, wonderful day.

Svadhaya - brings me to me through you ❤️ 

• We spoke about the pace of practice—and some of the challenges or barriers that can come up when offering slower, more intentional movement in certain environments. How do you relate to the idea of slowing down? What feels possible, supportive, or difficult about pacing in your facilitation?

I generally have the opposite issue as I love slower practices, they feel accessible and embodied to me and I feel like its a reflection of a moving meditation and I know that people can find this confronting in the way that I find fast paced, fiery practices confronting. In my experience working with something that is a little uncomfortable is very rewarding and where a lot of growth lies. Being mindful of this in facilitation as there are a room of unique individuals and we are working to create a space where everyone has somewhere to land.

• How does the practice of Svadhyaya (self-study) show up for you right now? Are there patterns, habits, or truths you’re noticing about your facilitation, or about yourself, that invite deeper curiosity?

This area is going to be a more prominent one in my life at this point as I try to take the next big steps in my life, prioritising my personal practice and my service. This will require some deep self study as I feel in some cosmic way this is the work I'm supposed to be doing but my fear of not being good enough has pushed me to become complacent and leave this to others. Its unknown and scary but this is the truth of my purpose.