Cozy Crew is back for April vacation week!

Join us for the final Cozy Crew class of the school year. 

We’ll spend 3 hours making art, telling stories, and doing playful yoga and mindfulness activities. Because of the length of the class, I’ve started the age range at 7, but if you have an almost-7 who has come to Friendly Yoga before and would like to give this class a try, contact me so that we can decide if it’s a good fit.

Tuesday 4/19
10:00am-1:00pm: First Parish Church, Groton MA
Ages 7-10
$35
Register here

Listening and allowing

The first day I met one of my yoga kids, she told me that she is part wild animal. Her friends, wide-eyed and earnest, corroborated, “Yes, it’s true, she really is!” I probably said something like, “Great, wild animals are cool! Let’s do some yoga!”

She’s an enthusiastic and cooperative participant for most of class, but this student never lays on her mat during savasana. While the other kids find some kind of comfy way to be prone and relaxed under dimmed lights, she is on all fours or squatting, or curled up, legs folded underneath her. She’s still for a minute or so, and then moves to a new position. She is quiet, and even moving, she is mostly calm, with a dash of vigilance in her beautiful brown eyes.

Not one of the other 11 kids in class ever says, “No fair! Why doesn’t she have to lay down?” I find this amazing.

We’ve been meeting for a few weeks now. Today, as the other kids rested on their mats, this particular girl did a slow series of bends and bows, similar to a sun salutation. Her face was calm but serious.

At the end of class, she came up to me and said, “Did you see the movements I was doing?

“In wild animal language, those were bows of respect. I was honoring you for being the teacher. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t listening, because you were asking us to be still. But when I’m in my animal side, I CAN’T be still.”

“I know just what you mean,” I told her.

There are times when letting one kid “do her thing” can devolve into chaos and make it very hard to teach (or is it just control?) an entire group. There are contexts in which I might need to tell this child that her “human child” side needs to come to class, no wild animals allowed in the room.

But when it’s possible to avoid forcing conformity on child, when I can allow them to express something that seems so important to them, it always feels like a victory to me.

Balancing parent pose

A friend of mine is a former library director.

Before she retired, she’d regularly run into people in the grocery store who would, almost before saying hello, redden with embarrassment and confess that they had an overdue book at home or a late fine worthy of a public flogging.

Another friend is a minister at a local church, and as such, elicits all kinds of impromptu confessions. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to come to church!” people tell her, flustered, at school events, at Dunkin Donuts, at the grocery store, sure that she keeps a naughty/nice attendance list. “Next week, for sure!”

I sometimes think of these two friends when I casually ask parents of the kids in my yoga classes, “Do you do yoga?”

I’m genuinely curious. Simply curious. Judgment is not on my agenda. Ask anyone who knows me – I love to think about yoga and talk about yoga. And since the parent and I are often in the midst of a conversation about how great yoga is for their child, it seems natural to ask, “Is it something you’ve tried yourself?”

“Oh, I used to. You know, before kids.”

“I’ve been meaning to. I really should, I know.”

“It’s so bad! I’m so bad! I know I should go – do you know of any studios? I think I need a class for people who can’t do yoga.”

“Oh, I’m not a yoga person. I’m not flexible/I’m out of shape/I can’t wear those pants/maybe if I was younger. Is that terrible? I probably should do it, shouldn’t I?”

The very, very, very last thing I intend when I ask, “Do you do yoga?” is to add another item to the sad and monumental list of “THINGS I SHOULD BE DOING BUT AM NOT, THEREFORE ADDING TO THE REASONS THAT I AM A SUBSTANDARD MOM/DAD/HUMAN BEING.” 

And yet.

And yet, one thing that has improved* my parenting experience more than any other has been a consistent yoga practice. There are physical benefits, sure, and when I’m feeling strong and healthy, I’m more likely to be in a good frame of mind, as well as more likely to enjoy running, biking, and backyard kickball with my kids.

But there’s something else that yoga gives me that makes my role as a parent a bit more comfortable and sane.

Showing up on my very own little 2×6′ island, whether at the studio for 90 minutes or on my bedroom floor for 5, recalibrates me emotionally. When my kids were very young, and their physical needs were great, just having my body all to myself for an hour peeled away layers of stress, reminded me that I need to breathe and move and feel the boundaries (and power) of my own physicality.

Now that my kids are teens, I also benefit from time being just me, standing on the soles of my own two feet, the only drama and criticism to contend with being the more or less manageable swirl of thoughts between my two ears. Just me. Just here. Just now.

I am a learner every time I step onto my mat, and this reminds me of what my children experience every day. Each class is different, each teacher has a different style and brings out different physical possibilities and emotional reactions. Kindness, clarity, encouragement, compassionate effort, and playfulness emerge as the most nutritious ingredients in human relationships, with oneself or another person, and I carry that off my mat.

No one has to do yoga, of course.

But I do think that parents benefit from participating in some activity that entices them to disengage from their daily responsibilities and come back into their own bodies and minds. A walk can do the trick, and so can tennis or biking or salsa dancing or even a long soak in a hot tub.

And when that activity is a practice, which is simply to say, when it is something that is done with some degree of regularity, a dash of comfort zone-pushing effort, and, most of all, curiosity rather than judgment, it becomes a reliable emotional and physical “home.” A place to rest and recharge.

I don’t normally teach adults, except in my family classes.  Just as in my kids-only classes, everyone lays down for savasana (final relaxation) at the end. While bodies are relaxing and listening to peaceful music, I go around our little circle and offer everyone a shoulder press, a gentle movement in which their shoulders are guided away from their ears and toward the ground on a deep exhale. This ministration is totally optional, and I often have a kid or two in class who opts out.

It’s much more rare for a grownup to say no. Most say, “Yes, please,” and follow that up with a relaxed, “Thank you.” The room gets so peaceful (okay, there are occasionally a few squirming kids), that it seems almost cruel to ask everyone to roll up their mats and head home when our hour is up.

When I encourage parents to try yoga, it’s so that they can experience the peace that we’re all so thirsty for, not so that they can flash admirable arm muscles at the playground or look cuter in yoga pants during school pickup time or feel less guilty about not doing what all the ads exhort us to.

It’s because I believe that taking care of one’s self, taking time for one’s self, remembering that we all have bodies that feel and experience and need movement and rest and touch free of responsibility and worry, lays the groundwork for being truly present for other people, including (especially?!) the young people we are raising. And for ourselves too.

* Here the word “improvement” means:

1) Deeper enjoyment of the actual moments I spend with my kids.

2) Being less reactive, less prone to let stressful interactions lead to unproductive behavior (yelling!) that I later regret.

3) Being able to meet my kids right where they are and really listen to what they need in that moment without letting my anxiety about “how it will all play out” run the show. 

Jumping All Day Long

It’s been a loooooooong, snowy winter here in New England. Early April, and yards and playgrounds are still covered in mud and snow, so kids are coming to class with plenty of energy.

I have Jumping All Day Long by Jennifer Gasoi on my playlist for those moments in class when it’s clearly time to amp up the activity level for a minute or two. gasoi2

The lyrics suggest body movements, and the actions change frequently enough that kids stay interested. During the instrumental sections, we either do “free dancing” (kids choose their own movements) or we try holding a pose (warrior I provides a powerful-feeling “resting place,” and two instrumental sections means you can do both sides).

With some groups, we do the whole song “feet on mats,” but in the right space, with kids who can handle it, kids are free to move wild and free! Woo hoo!

Preschoolers love this song, but school-age kids also happily boing around the room, and some of my goofier (totally a compliment!) middle schoolers even have fun with it.

You might get a request to “Do it again!!!” especially from younger kids, but eventually kids will happily collapse onto their mats. This is a great time to notice breathing, heart rate, sensations in big muscle groups, and to transition kids into a calmer, more focused activity.