What SHOULD yoga look like? Is there only one yoga road I SHOULD be on? These are fascinating questions for me. I am a student of yoga. I teach yoga. I own a yoga business. And there isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t at least once glance down at my WWYD (what would yoga do?) bracelet. OK, so I don’t really have a string around my wrist with those letters imprinted on it, but you get the point, it’s a full-time job trying to define something that is way beyond definition.

The reason I pose this question - What SHOULD yoga look like? - is to bring something to light that makes me angry. I know, I’m female and I’m not supposed to show my anger, but in this case it seems anger might be a great place to start a really worthwhile conversation. So yogis, let’s talk.

It’s fair to say The Funky Buddha Yoga Hothouse has been warmly received in West Michigan. Perhaps this is even an understatement. But, as all stories have more than one side, The Funky Buddha has its critics too. This is to be expected. Opinions are everywhere and were 100% expected upon the opening of said yoga studio doors. But where I have been most dumfounded is that The Funky Buddha’s most outspoken critics often hail from only one source: the population of yogis that already existed in West Michigan prior to our opening. I had to open a yoga studio to see how fanatical we yogis can be when it comes to the word SHOULD.

We SHOULD practice faster. We SHOULD practice slower. We SHOULD turn down the heat. Teachers SHOULDn’t ever swear. We SHOULD teach to our students as if they are first-timers in every class. We SHOULD be more spiritual. We SHOULDn’t let so many students in at a time. We SHOULD stop being so gimmicky. Teachers really SHOULD be more hands-on. I could go on but I won’t. Yes, we take feedback. In fact we thrive off valuable feedback so much that our entire staff culture is firmly set on a feedback foundation. But there is a distinct difference between suggestions and the need to define, or SHOULD I say confine.

I recently heard science can prove that a human being’s breath cycle and heartbeat are as unique as their own thumbprint. This is both mind boggling and yet so completely rational. I also think this is a valuable clue that points to how we are meant to live: uniquely, as individuals, marching to the drum that beats inside. But this is hard for us to do when there are people hell bent on saying this is what the drum beat SHOULD sound like.

So, I write this blog not to start a yogi war. I write this blog not to say the way we practice at The Funky Buddha is how yoga SHOULD be practiced. Instead I write this blog to challenge myself, the students who call The Funky Buddha their yoga home, and the wider West Michigan yoga family to drop our SHOULDs. The way I see it we all have two choices: we can practice yoga, or we can SHOULD all over each other.

No more SHOULDs,

Kerri
 

I noticed something today. A tree. Not the yoga kind of tree, but one that hails itself from the Cornacae family of the Angiosperm phylum of the Plantae kingdom (a Jedi mind trick to deflect your attention away from my embarrassment over what I’m about to tell you). The tree I saw is a Dogwood. Why the embarrassment? Because this particular tree is in my front yard…right smack dab outside our home office windows…and I’ve never noticed it before…after living in my house…for almost two years…and it’s probably over 15 feet tall…and I’m OBSESSED with Dogwoods.

If you’re interested in understanding this girl’s obsession with Dogwoods, you’re in luck. When I was a kid I learned in Sunday School that Jesus was crucified on a Dogwood. Truth, fiction, or Jedi mind trick I don’t know. But said teacher also casually mentioned that Dogwoods did not begin to flower in the distinctive way they do now until after Jesus’ death. If you’ve ever seen a Dogwood’s flowers this will make perfect sense to you. Four longish white petals come together in the shape of a cross, the outer ends of each petal are marked with blood-like red stains.

Said Sunday School teacher then proceeded to tell us there were Dogwoods outside on the church’s property. Right outside! Tangible proof of this crucified Jesus everyone keeps yaking about! Obsession born: check. Many painful hours (in kid time) later I made it outside and stood under the first flowering Dogwood I could find. Magic! Love at first sight, if that’s possible with a tree. I wondered how such a horror as crucifixion could have taken place on such a lovely tree. It was all so deliciously unsettling. Years later, I’ve no idea if Jesus was really crucified on a Dogwood, what I’m getting at is the mystery of all living things. THEY POINT TO SOMETHING BIGGER. In my girlhood, that Dogwood pointed to, and bold-face celebrated, a Spiritual Master. I was sure (obsessed) of it.

Back to my front yard. The Dogwood-I-had-not-noticed-in-my-front-yard-after-nearly-two-years-of-living-in-my-house is in bloom. Aha moment number one: I’ve dreamed of having a Dogwood on my very own property for as long as I can remember. This morning an unsettling realization moved through me in the form of this thought: the life of my dreams is right in front of me, right now. It’s a Dogwood…on my very own property. Perhaps I should open my eyes wide enough to see what else I’ve been missing. It’s just like a Dogwood tree to unsettle me into seeing again.

Aha number two: I’ve recently stopped celebrating. Three feet in front of me was Celebration-On-Display in the form of a tree. Brown bark. Deep roots that don’t allow it to go anywhere. Scrawny branches. No mouth. No ears. No intellect. And yet every inch of this tree is giving winter the middle finger while simultaneously inviting me to SEE, to SLOW DOWN, and use every inch of ME to CELEBRATE a life I could only make up in my dreams. I get it. Point taken tree-I-will-never-be-able-to-not-notice-from-here-on-out. You waited almost two years to get my attention? I do believe the force is strong with you.

Celebrating like a kid,
Kerri
   

What I’m talking about is faith. Faith gets a bad rap sometimes. People think faith is weak, faith is spineless, faith is a crutch. Faith is also drastically misunderstood. We see people we consider to be so brave and automatically assume they have an easy faith in what they do because they are fearless. None of these assessments of faith are true. If by now you are wondering what faith is, I have to say I don’t know. But that’s exactly the point. Faith isn’t a thing. Faith is instead like choosing the dark. It’s a choice to believe in what you can’t see. It’s ultimately a trust that even though you can’t see the staircase, you’ll take the first step anyway.

This past weekend I witnessed our Teacher Trainees taking step after step after step, dressed in nothing more than the shoes of faith. I watched them lean into something bigger than themselves as they took each step. And as I watched them do so, I knew immediately that they were embodying what it means to be a teacher and, ultimately, leaders: faith. You see, leaders can’t take people where they aren’t willing to first go themselves. Leaders can’t take people new places if they lack the faith it takes to go to those places too.

I know what I saw this weekend. It wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t the use of a crutch. It wasn’t fearlessness either. Trust me, they were scared. It was faith. And I think it’s amazing that something you can’t even see can take you further than you’ve ever gone. You can go there too. You've just gotta have faith.

Kerri

 

Surprise…we are expecting! And it’s a girl! Ten of them, actually. That’s right, it’s safe to say we’ve been really busy around the studio, and we thought you’d like to know. OK, so full disclosure: I am not with child. My two boys make for a full enough plate. But I am thrilled to tell you that our Funky Buddha family is about to get bigger in one very special way. Read on and I’ll tell you what we’ve been up to.

On Friday, January 13, 2012, The Funky Buddha will begin its first-ever teacher training. We started looking for candidates amongst the hundreds of yogis we are fortunate to have practicing on a weekly basis. We tapped a few surprised shoulders and eventually got the response we hoped for. First it went something like really, me? And then, duh, yes! Before we knew it, we had a group of ten very enthusiastic and seasoned students ready to grow into teachers.

I tell each of you this because these ten amazing human beings will need your support in the next few months. They’ll need for you to cheer them on, to pat them on the back after they’ve taught their first sun salutation. They’ll need for you to tell them it’s OK to be scared. You’re going to start seeing them cut their teacher’s teeth during classes, and I promise you, you’ll have a blast watching them grow. Because this is what families do. They laugh together. Cry together. Make messes together. They act as safe places to land. Become cheerleaders when someone just needs to be cheered on. And give honest and constructive feedback when the time is right.

And so I THANK YOU, Funky Buddha Family, for opening your arms wide to Connie, Lindsay, Laura, Amanda, Laurie, Rhiannon, Jamie, Carrie, Mary, and Larissa. And for understanding it takes a special group of people like you to cherish the growth of a fellow student. I trust that over the next few months, these ten girls will be held in the safest hands of all. Funky Buddha Family hands.

Here we grow,
Kerri
 

This year I propose we not give up on the R word, -resolution for all you late arrivers on the bus- let’s talk about it instead. More importantly let’s talk about why resolutions rarely work. First though, we’ve got to talk about the C word, change. After all it’s what we’re after when we make a resolution, right? All that fresh blank paper beckons us to make big change in spades.

The truth is, there’s nothing wrong with making resolutions, and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to make big change. Resolutions are great places to begin when it comes to change, but where our resolutions so often veer off course is the moment we choose to build them on the wrong foundation. Shaky foundation. A foundation that says how things are right now, or more accurately, how I am right now is not good enough. Not. Good. Enough. What you have is a resolution built on sand.

So how in the world do you build a 2012 resolution on rock? You thought I’d never ask didn’t you. Take heart dear yogi and consider the following as the granite you’ve been looking for all along.

1. You’re good enough. Better yet, you’re perfect. This is the first truth to digest before you can move on to making a resolution. Losing 15 pounds won’t make this truer. Finding yourself in Paris won’t either. If there is only one thing you take from this blog let it be the following: you can not make true and lasting change until you first accept exactly where it is you are right now. Right. Now. Period

2. Do the work. A fancier way of saying this is: the easy way leads to the hard life, and the hard way leads to the easy life. Setting a goal is the easy part. Doing the work it takes to achieve what you want takes the following four letter word: work. I know, the word work is a buzz killer, but there is no other way around making a resolution last, not even if you go through Paris.

3. Change your thoughts. Resolutions usually don’t work because they don’t fundamentally change the person who made the resolution in the first place. They simply become a cosmetic fix that never suited you. Let me break this down for you in the simplest of terms. Thoughts breed actions. Actions then go on to breed habits. Habits become character. And it’s your character that shapes your destiny. Simpler yet is that your thoughts shape your destiny. So where do you start? Think this every day in 2012 until you believe it: I AM GOOD ENOUGH. Your destiny awaits.

4. This bus we’re all on together will never arrive anywhere. What would be the point if it did? What would we do when we got there? We’d probably all get off, take a look around, get back on the bus and demand to be taken somewhere else. My point is, arriving is pointless, it’s the journey that matters most. If you can step back from a resolution and say it’s worth the journey then go for it! Just know that once you get there you’ll just want to go someplace else. You’re wired to journey, not to arrive.

5. There are no mistakes. We’re adept at killing our resolutions before bringing them into reality because we’re afraid we’ll make mistakes along the way. We hate looking bad. We’re freaked out of screwing up. It all goes back the I’m not good enough story we tell ourselves constantly. But since you all are now enlightened beings who know you’re perfect just as you are, you can see life as one gigantic practice. Imagine if your mother would have yelled at you the moment you decided to walk. Stop being so sloppy child! It’s ludicrous. This is the part where I tell you that not only are you wired to journey, you were built to be OK with that journey being sloppy. Adulthood just screwed you up, that’s all. It’s your turn now. Grab that writing utensil. Put it on the blank white pages that are 2012. Enjoy the journey as your good enough self. And don’t forget to make a mess.

Enjoying the view from the bus,
Kerri
 

1. After I attended Level 2 training in 2010, Level 1 training suddenly made more sense. And now that I’m home from Level 3 training, Level 2 is finally starting to sink in. That’s growth. Put one foot in front of the other in the direction you want to head, and even if the route makes no sense at all, it will once you’ve achieved some distance from your starting point. Hindsight is 20/20, and that’s OK.
2. Sand is a losing battle. Spend 5 minutes in the Riviera Maya and it’s obvious that like the Midwest has oodles of green grass, Mayans have sand. Sounds lovely, right? It is, except that being surrounded by sand rubs up against a part of me I am now about to admit: I am a recovering perfectionist. When I first arrived in Tulum I took one look at all that sand and began to develop an elaborate strategy for conquering it. I lost. But my point is I sort of won too. I won the moment I decided to let it go. I noticed that when I let all those obnoxious grains of sand go, I freed up energy I would need later in the week to make it through the training. Silly, I know, but you do it. The good news? You can let go too.
3. Several themes developed throughout the seven days of Level 3 training. One of those themes was: Precision = Power. Today, watch yourself talk. See all the ways you beat around the bush in asking for what you need or want. Notice all the extra fluff coming out of your mouth. Dis-empowering, right? And not just for you, but for the ears that have to listen to it. Then try on getting clear. Use only the words necessary for communicating exactly what it is you want to say. Talk about power! Now go be precise. That’s really all I wanted to say.
4. This is it. Sounds simple, but our minds enjoy telling us otherwise. In fact many of us will go our entire lives thinking that every moment we live is not as it’s meant to be. It should be some other way. Watch yourself from the moment you quit reading this blog. Chances are you’ll catch yourself saying things like I’ll be happier when, or I can’t wait until, and this would be so much better if. Don’t be upset with yourself when you hear this, just choose another way. Try instead saying to yourself this is it. This. Is. It. Your life will transform in front of your eyes. If not, I promise a full refund.
5. Level 3 will become legendary upon the utterance of the following three words: Lids Off Exercise. I won’t tell you what this is, but I will tell you what I learned from it. It’s simple. Life is too short to walk around all bottled up with your lid fastened on tight. Life is too short to simply burp your lid every once in a while. Take that mother funking lid off! Life is so much better uncorked.
6. I hate Baron Baptiste. I always think this at the beginning of a teacher training. But somewhere in the thick of it I realize that I actually love him to death. Why? One word: demand. Baron is a demand for the disruption of business-as-usual in my life. Baron is a demand for me to live with great integrity. Baron is a demand for seeing me uncorked. Baron is a demand for getting me to see that THIS IS IT. Baron is a demand that I live my life fully. Baron is a demand that not only do I do one more freaking wheel, but I do it with one leg high in the sky because that’s what I get when I don’t bail on myself.
7. Last but not least, nothing matters. It’s hard to wrap the skull around this one, I know, but try to ease into it slowly. Truth be told, you are nothing more than a blob of protoplasm spinning around on a dirt ball we call Earth. I know, I know, it seems like it matters, but can you let go for one second and see that in the grand scheme of things, nothing matters. Why is this important to get? Because when you start to loosen the noose you place around everything that seems important to you, what is actually so trivial will start to fall away. And then you’ll get this rush of truth that if nothing matters in the way you think it does, nothing can get in the way of you showing up big - no HUGE - in your life. Lid off. Uncorked. Screw fighting the sand. A living breathing demand for integrity. A walking blob of protoplasm up to very big things.

Lid off,
Kerri
 

The last 365 days of my life have been marked by intense growth. I’m not complaining. I asked for it. But what I’ve learned along the way is that there is a time for everything. There is a time for intensity, and there is a time for rest. Today’s 9 a.m. marked a change for me. It’s time for me to shift gears. It’s time for rest. And it’s also time to pass on the fire.

This morning I shared some of the most meaningful nuggets of wisdom I’ve received in the last 365 days. After class I was asked to write them down and share them. Thus, the blog you are reading. But before I get to it, I must thank every student who has ever attended a class of mine, my husband Chris, my sons Abe and Jake, my teacher Baron Baptiste, Amber Kilpatrick, Elizabeth Sanders, Laura Glerum, Ashley Yost, and Leigh Ellis. The following comes from what I have learned from knowing each of you.

1. Faith is a deep trust that our actions mean something and can cause big change. If a hummingbird flaps its wings somewhere in South America, it will eventually cause a wave to crash into a beach somewhere in India. A little boy sitting on that beach will giggle because of this wave, his mother will hear that giggle and her heart will expand with joy…and on and on it could go.
2. We become most effective when we choose to get grounded and centered first.
3. Success can seem like it’s made up of big things. But people who stand atop huge mountains got there because they put one foot in front of the other. Success may lead to big things, but you get there when you mind the million little details necessary along the way.
4. More breathing, less talk.
5. Stillness is your root. It is also a key to self-mastery.
6. Not sure what to do? Just show up.
7. You come from greatness. This means that you ARE greatness.
8. Its when you feel the most unfairly tested that you are being the most prepped for growth.
9. The way out is always in. Thanks Baron.
10. You gotta feel to heal. Again, thanks Baron.
11. Your yoga teacher can’t buy into your drama. If he/she does, he/she has stopped caring about you, and has instead become more interested in what you think of him/her.
12. The moment you want out of a situation is the perfect moment to try on staying instead.
13. Love is what you were born with. Fear is what you’ve learned here. From A Return to Love, by Marianne Williamson. It’s safe to say that EVERYTHING we do in the practice space at our studio is designed to help you un-learn your fear.
14. Loneliness is impossible when you are up to building bridges instead of walls.
15. In every waking moment, you are either contracting or expanding. Yup, another Baronism.
16. Never forget you are a human being first, not a human doing. Even if it’s only once a day, let yourself just be. You’ll soon find that your doing will become infused with being.
17. Surrender is so much more effective than struggling. Baron…again.
18. I saved this one for last because if it’s the only one you get, you’ll get something amazing. How you are being speaks a bazillion times louder than what you are saying or doing.

Nap time,
Kerri
 

It’s said that when the student is ready, the teacher appears. This couldn’t be truer. I know because it’s happened to me many times in my short life. Sometimes predictably. Other times as happy accidents. It was true with you, except totally different. Never predictable, not always happy, but - absolutely without a doubt – my meeting you was no accident.

In January of 2010 I met you on the cover of your book, Journey Into Power. I was instantly mesmerized by your blue bandana and bad ass Crow pose. I decided to take the suggestion of Amazon.com and promptly clicked Add to Cart. Who wouldn’t want to sculpt your ideal body, free your true self, and transform your life with yoga? Um, I did. Actually, I would have been satisfied just to feel happy in my own skin again. There are two words to describe where I was the day we met, Baron. First word: rock. Second word: bottom. Feel free to underline and bold them both.

When my copy of Journey Into Power arrived in my mailbox, I inhaled every word. Then I did what any sane person would have: I signed up for 2 of your trainings. Why? I was certain I’d finally found the one person in the whole wide world who could fix me. But fix me you didn’t. You did way better. You reminded me instead that I was never broken. Buried, yes, but surely not broken.

There is a story you like to tell. It’s about Michelangelo freeing beautiful statues from large slabs of granite. According to Michelangelo it was his job to do this. Those statues deserved to be carved out, freed. He simply put his chisel to rock and began to trustingly hammer away. This too has been my story since meeting you, but with one very big difference. In my story I am both the sculptor and the granite. However, it’s YOU I have to thank for putting the chisel and hammer into my hands. Thank you for trusting I was worth the work. Thank you for helping me teach my students to do this work too. And thank you for being my teacher. 

Kerri
 

So truly, where do we start? This one is obvious as day. We start by saying thank you. It’s been almost one year since we opened our studio’s doors, and since then almost 45,000 pairs of feet have walked through them. It’s safe to say we have a lot of people to thank! Where we’ll start is with those who made it possible to open our doors in the first place. Grab a Kleenex, here we go.

Thank you Baron Baptiste for enchanting us with the world of POSSIBILITY. Thank you Diane Griffin of Griffin Properties for helping us find such a lovely place to sweat. Thank you Andy Stob of Stob Construction, LLC for taking ugly white walls and a concrete slab of a floor, and turning it into the amazing space our studio is today. Thank you Amber Kilpatrick. The Universe was kind to us the day we met you over a very pink birthday cake. Thank you Leigh Ellis for being the most ridiculously talented Office Manager a hot yoga studio can wish for…and thanks for sharing Tanner with us. He is not only the greatest dog ever, he gives us all a chance to say "Whippet real good" and then giggle like children. Thank you to the coolest staff members and teachers who’ve helped us along the way, growing pains and all. And last but not least, thank you to the thousands of students who’ve come to us to be taught, and subsequently became our teachers instead.

In un-stuck gratitude,
Kerri & Chris