Swamp Sista: in the Hood!

I have recently had the privilege of joining a unique and interesting group of women.  I am a "Swamp Sista"
Now, that does not mean I reside under logs, "rassle" alligators, or say "where y'at" when asking for directions.

It does mean I am among a very special group of women, started by musician/singer/songwriter Beth McKee whom she met at her gigs.

The Swamp Sistas : a collection of women with diverse backgrounds, the arts, business, medicine.  You name the profession, and a Sista is most likely doing that work. But they are something more: they unite under the love of music, and they celebrate being a woman.  Not through protests or sit-ins, but through the glorious sounds of music and laughter.

The Swamp Sistas live fully. There is joy when they gather.  Music fills the air : blues, bluegrass, new grass, rock,  rock a billy, cajun...its all there

LALA festivals have begun to spring up: take Woodstock, subtract a few hundred thousand people,  then add more women performers, along with Sistas that create beautiful items to sell, and throw in great food.  Add a little Grateful Dead audience participation to the mix  (without the patchouli oil, actually I do believe I smelled it in the air, and I KNOW it was for sale at one of the vendors) and you may come somewhat close to where the LALA's are headed...
to barns in the country, open fields, or anyplace where they can easily set up for a day to dance, to sing, to laugh and rejoice in the sheer unity of SistaHood.

LALA's have already occurred in New Orleans, Orlando, and in North Carolina.  More are on the way.

If you are lucky enough to be a woman: you could be a Sista.

oh yes, men are welcome to attend the events: after all, Sistas love their lovers.

The Quiet within: beyond Peace

This photo may make you smile, but it makes me nod and say "Alright!"

The serenity on the face is something I recognize: 

because I have seen it in my own reflection over time.

I am learning quiet.

Inside

Deep within my soul.

Its not as though I did not have peace within.  I've just never had quiet.

There is a difference.

Peace I have found through love, prayer, music, art, gardening, even work.

Quiet is something completely different and entirely an end result of Yoga.

It began in April at a friend's wedding.

Sheridan had been practicing Yoga for a while and was also taking classes to become a teacher. She had invited several of the people from the studio to her wedding,  and I had a compelling conversation with one of her instructors, Hampton.  I was invited to join the practice the next evening.  

It would be life changing.

To be honest, I've taken yoga classes on occasion in the past.  I have yoga tapes and DVD's I have used often.  Yes, they were currently collecting dust somewhere in a cabinet or box, but I had them.  Heck, I even had the Wii workouts that had yoga included: although I was always irritated by their workout, as it was never fluid, but choppy, with a rhythm that never felt comfortable.  I preferred the thought of working out with others again, as I had come to appreciate the health benefits to the body due to the exercise and stretching involved, so I went with an open mind to getting a good work out and back in shape. 

For nearly 90 minutes I moved through the various stretches and poses to open my body, but I found a change that happened within moments of settling on the mat.  I found a silence that calmed my mind.

The quiet I never knew living in a house full of siblings and parents, even the time I spent on my own, and later after I was married and then once again after my beloved Michael died, appeared.  I NEVER knew this quiet inside.

There was always something that managed to creep in and take over my mind when I least expected it.  Hitting the "Shut off" button was not something I could do, much less put my mind on "pause".

In Prayer, I would find Peace, but never silence.  There was always clutter-background noise in my head as I concentrated on the things I needed to pray about, or for.  

Until that afternoon.

Somehow, a quiet soothing motion began in my mind and settled throughout the practice.  It was not an invasion, but a gentle curtain that came down and said "For now, this is all that matters"

I began to really listen to my breath...to breathe into the muscles and the movement.  To listen to the voice that quietly lead me from pose to pose in what became a dance within my center core.  I began to see the muscles as I prepared them to move, to hold, to stretch.  I remember my surprise, albeit a pleasant one, when my body responded and adjusted as prompted.

There was no room for outside thoughts, because-strangely enough-the outside did not exist beyond the room.  It was enough just to move to the best of my ability, always being aware and alive with each adjustment in pose.  No stress was involved.  No need to prove anything to anyone: even myself.  

I did not do poses perfect. But that is the beauty of Yoga.  It is always a practice.  You practice to achieve only what you can do that day.  The idea that it was not enough never enters into the mind.  What was accomplished that day was good enough for that day.  

Its been nearly 4 months since that first time.  I practice at home on days I can not get to the studio.  I find quiet inside.  

My body has responded in kind.  Its stronger, leaner.  It feels the quiet and expands it into my daily life.

My creativity is at a new level.  My desire to paint, to play music, to connect with others mentally has intensified in a calm and serene way.  I'm not driven, but exploring myself and my world. 

Within the chaos of life, I have found a quiet that is truly remarkable.  I feel it even now as I write this.  Moments of stillness that I treasure because they are mine alone and which I carry with me into my world.  

I'm not unique.  I am a work in progress.  I practice to find breath and stillness in every fiber of my being.   

I practice to achieve the Quiet beyond Peace.     

Spring

It's the smell of the earth...almost something you want to take a bite of

It's the delicate green bud on the tree that is barely discernible up close, but against the backdrop of a pure Carolina Blue sky, it casts a neon glow

It's the feel of the dirt under your fingernails when you dig into the warm loamy soil.

It's the pungent odor of the wild garlic that mimics the smell of cut onions as you mow the lawn.

It's the colors of white, yellow, orange, gold, pink, fuchsia, red, purple, every green imaginable and then some that appears on trees, shrubs, bare branches and thin stalks arising from the ground.

It's the tree frog sending out it mating call in the evening.

It's the symphony of birdsong in the early morning , in the middle of the day and just before dusk

It is knowing that despite everything you may feel on your worst day, that the best day is yet to come.

It's the promise of possibilities.