Even with a few days of summer heat coming our way, it’s clear the seasons are in transition. It’s been a struggle to wake early and get out of bed while it’s still dark outside. Early morning practice time is now by the dim light of a candle until the sky lightens. Even as the daylight shrinks, my days have been full and fulfilling. As soon as one project is done, there are three more waiting. Walking back from the garden, a basketful of tomatoes, the clear crisp scent of fall was in the air. This emerging shift in the seasons is something I look forward to. It prompts me to pause and reflect on the season that is passing and the signs of change that are present and on the horizon.

On a recent Friday, the Warbling Yogis were found flittering about in several Portland area parks seeking out birds high and low and doing a few yoga poses along the way. My favorite birding moments include seeing three Great Horned Owlets in their downy fluff. We also saw a Warbling Vireo catch an insect over the Columbia Slough, land on a tree branch and make a meal out of the insect. There were fun moments of yoga too. Diane and I managed a side-lying tree pose on top of a side-lying tree. It’s hard to balance on the edge of a trunk!

As I head off to my last class here in Pune, I can’t help but feel like a sponge that has soaked up as much as possible, dripping, unable to absorb more. One might question, why go to another class if it’s not possible to take in more? There is a reservoir to catch all of what can’t be gotten in one go. This reservoir will fuel my practice for months to come.

As soon as I disembarked from the plane, it was clear I was in India—the air is different, there’s a thickness, I could feel it and smell it. It made me smile. It’s not always easy to be in India, but I’m so happy to be here now.

Usually, while here for a month, one would join in the weekly classes at Ramamani Iyengar Memorial Yoga Institute (RIMYI). This month, they have held a two-week intensive, the first of several intensives to celebrate the Institute’s 50th anniversary. The days have been long and full, and these two weeks have flown by. I’ve enjoyed the classes immensely.

Over the past year, the teachers I’ve been studying with have been teaching the advanced asanas from the Level 3 syllabus. These are challenging poses for most practitioners—add in knee or shoulder issues and they can seem impossible. One of the poses, Ūrdhva Padmāsana (upward lotus pose) in Śīrṣāsana (headstand) has eluded me for years. Padmāsana (lotus pose) has never been easy for me. While I have seen improvements, even as I have practiced it more carefully to avoid injury, this asana will always pose some challenge due to a tight hip and my proportions. So, to fold my legs into this position without using my hands while standing on my head—forget it!

Several weeks ago I found myself struggling in class. Try as I might, I couldn’t find my balance in Pīncha Mayūrāsana (forearm balance); it was hard to even kick up successfully. And this was just the start of moving to a more difficult posture, Vṛśchikāsana. Had I been practicing on my own or following a video recording, I might have moved closer to the wall and let my feet remain there or I may have given up in a moment of complete frustration. “Why can’t I do this?” But I was participating in an online class; my teacher could see me, so I persisted. I kicked and kicked and stopped to take a few breaths and kicked some more.

At the end of last term, a student from years ago reappeared. After class he said, “Thank you for still being here.”

For over 20 years, I’ve had the privilege of teaching yoga in the same space where I have been and continue to be a student. It’s a joy to see some of the same students year after year. And I’m always happy to see students return when life has taken them elsewhere.

For the last month, my attendance in asana classes with my teachers has been wanting. I’ve been out of town; they’ve been out of town; summer just gets so full! While I love all that summer is—wide and open and full of activity—I’m equally happy to meet the return to routines that comes with fall, especially the return to formal learning. I’m clearly a life-long student!

My summers are marked by a schedule of watering and caring for the garden. I do this work willingly, even when life is busy with work and social obligations, and it seems there isn’t enough time. While I think that I must be unattached to the work because there are so many things that can go wrong—pests, weather, disease—my efforts have always paid off. Not only do I enjoy the bounty of the garden, but it keeps me grounded and helps clear my mind, much like my asana practice.

On May 23rd the Warbling Yogis spent the day wandering a few local parks looking for birds as part of Portland Audubon’s annual fundraiser, Birdathon. Over the course of the day, we took short yoga breaks to ease our hands, shoulders and necks while seeking birds high and low. We saw a total of 64 different species! In addition to the actual birds, there was a convocation of Garudasanas (Eagle pose), a rare glimpse in the wild of Parsva Bakasana (side flank of a Crane pose) and a graceful Krounchasana (Heron pose) perched on a shoe. As serious as I am about my study of yoga, I thoroughly enjoy these opportunities to be playful.

After many years participating in Portland Audubon’s annual fundraiser, last year I co-lead a Birdathon team—the Warbling Yogis—a concept that combined my interest in birding with my lifelong study of yoga. The folks at Portland Audubon were impressed with this fledgling team! We had a good number of participants and we raised well over $7,000. We also provided some of the best team photos!

Spring must be my favorite time of year. There is a continuous unfurling—green shoots push up through dark earth; birds who have been quiet all winter greet the morning, their plumage changing to a brighter hue. The growing light is obvious even when it’s overcast and rainy. All of this brings me hope.

Sometimes we don’t know. Back in December, when I initially made plans to attend a retreat in Mexico, I knew there was a possibility that I might need to cancel due to COVID. If I looked only at the immediate situation (case numbers in Oregon), things didn’t always look so good. But if I took a wider view—looking at the projected decline in cases and factored in the vaccinations and required testing of participants at the retreat, things looked promising.

I’m glad the wider view won.

These past few weeks, I’ve been looking for light, knowing that we are approaching the shortest day of the year in the northern hemisphere and what is often a dark and dreary time of year in the Pacific Northwest. So even on overcast days, as I scan the sky, I seek light—and it’s there! It’s there in the layers of clouds that sweep across the sky. It’s not the blazing, brightness of the summer sun, but it is there, and I appreciate the light that I can see on these dark days.

Last year, a friend presented me with an unexpected gift. A beautifully written book, “Braiding Sweetgrass” by Robin Wall Kimmerer. Unlike some books that I race right through, I savored this book. There are parts of it that bare rereading on a regular basis, specifically, the chapter “Allegiance to Gratitude,” where the author shares the Thanksgiving Address of Haudenosaunee peoples.

Each time I practice, I touch on poses that are very familiar to me. How many times have I done Adho Mukha Svanasana (downward facing dog)? Yet each time, if I look with fresh eyes at what has developed over the years of practicing the pose, there is always something new—a physical change in the body that makes the pose more challenging, like the tightness that has come to my upper back or a deeper understanding of the relationship between the lumbar and the abdomen to support the organic body.

This past weekend I met with a small group of students for an in-person class at Jewel Yoga. With everyone present being fully vaccinated, we didn't need to wear masks or maintain physical distance during class. It felt so good to be in the physical space that has been an important part of my practice over the last two decades. To be present with students in that space, doing yoga, made the world feel right. While the students rested in Savasana, I was reminded of one of the many reasons I love the space—the soft sounds of the city brought in with the gentle breeze coming through the open windows. I’ve always appreciated the juxtaposition of the quiet internal work required of asana with the hustle and bustle on the city streets below.

Following the sequences from a book is a fine way to support your home practice. The asanas and the sequences start with basic poses and build over time, just like we do in a series of classes. In both Yoga the Iyengar Way and in Light on Yoga, there are particular weeks where the plan suggests consolidating one’s practice. Depending on what you think that means will direct how you practice.

Collectively, we can do so much more that we can individually!

At the beginning of the pandemic, Abhijata Iyengar encouraged us to be kind to ourselves, to use our practice to support us through this difficult time. Months later she challenged us in the asana classes, knowing we all needed movement and momentum as the pandemic and the physical distancing dragged on. This is one of the most beneficial and beautiful aspects of Iyengar Yoga--it is ever adaptable to our situation.