lululemon not required

Yesterday, Sean posted the “lululemon not required” tagline on Milton Yoga’s Facebook page (and no, it wasn’t a coy reference to lulu’s sheer pant recall). As I write this, that status stands at 56 “likes.”

In a recent conversation with several members of the Milton Yoga community, our discussion turned to the unpretentiousness of the studio and its clientele. Unlike other yoga studios in the Boston suburbs, the Milton Yoga foyer isn’t a lululemon showroom. Sure, you’ll see the occasional Scuba hoodie, but most of us wear our cotton Milton Yoga sweatshirts with pride. Classes at MY are never competitive; I could care less what my neighbor’s Lord of the Dance Pose looks like, and when a fellow classmate gets into a difficult pose for the first time, there are often smiles of congratulations.

Ronan needs a Milton Yoga hoodie!

I’m aware that yoga has a reputation for being a pastime of the affluent. The studios look like spas (especially the new Milton Yoga space!), its practitioners often follow strict nutrition regimes (or coconut water liquid diets), and paying for one drop-in class is the equivalent of your weekly spendings at Starbucks. It’s a common myth that a yoga class entails young and beautiful instructors bending themselves into poses that only invertebrates should be able to manage, all the while smiling serenely and reminding you to breathe.

This is not the experience at Milton Yoga. The instructors are relatable and approachable, you aren’t ostracized if you don’t drink electrolyte and lemon-infused water, and the plain cotton towel you use to mop the sweat on your forehead works just as well as the overpriced “micofibre” towels that are rolled and displayed in tidy pyramids on the lulu shelves (and yes, lulu spells “micofibre” the British way; infer what you will about pretension).

Granted, I should confess that my own yoga wardrobe includes many lulu items, and my “weekend uniform,” as my dad calls it, consists of lulu’s Wunder Under bottoms and Devotion tees. It’s also possible that the “educators” at my local lulu store know me by name, and some of my friends have threatened a “lemon intervention.” But the wonderful thing about my Milton Yoga family is that I’m not judged for having the Power Y tank in almost every color. When I walk into the studio, I’m just someone who’s there to take a yoga class, as you will be when you join our down-to-earth, grounded (pun intended) community.

Breathing Just A Little

I started my yoga practice when I was in college, and my favorite instructor, who had a voice that can only be described as audible Valium, always guided us into savasana with a brief reading. The studio was in a converted church, the pews removed to the foyer where they now held lulu bags instead of Bibles, and so the somewhat spiritual element at the end of class felt contextually appropriate.

Mary Oliver’s poetry often graced those final moments before complete stillness. As a student of English literature, and a believer in the “to know a poem, you must inhabit it” pedagogy, I knew many of Oliver’s poems by heart and often found myself silently reciting along in an improvised duet with the instructor.

On a snowy February evening, as we unraveled ourselves from our spine twists, each person in the class draped a woven Mexican blanket over his or her torso, the added weight rooting us further into the mat. We placed one palm at heart center and the other on our bellies, and closed our eyes. That night’s reading selection was one line–one line singled out from the thirty-one others–from Oliver’s “Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches?” and in true Oliver style it was a question, requiring a tonal lift on the last word: “Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?”

The logophile in me loves so much about this sentence: the careful alliteration with “l” words (listen, little, life); the way the commas manipulate the reader’s breath, turning a rhetorical question into something self-referential; the strong command at the beginning that softens with both the exhale of breath and the gentle profundity of the question: are you living, or simply existing?

In Hatha, how many times does Sean tell us to breathe? We go through a series of twenty-six postures, and for each he says “breathe” at least twice, so that’s fifty-two reminders. If you don’t breathe in Corin’s class, she’ll make you hold Warrior II until the only way to bear the burning in your limbs is to fill your lungs. When the power vinyasa class synchronizes its breath during Sun Salutations, Jen compliments the collective inhale and exhale with a “Sounds great,” a hint that your breath is more important than how deeply you forward fold.

The past five days have been a whirlwind for the Milton Yoga community. We’ve moved into a beautiful new space and welcomed new yogis, new instructors, and a new schedule. Picking which class to attend feels like looking at the menu of a five star restaurant and not knowing which gourmet entree to order. If I pick this, am I missing out on that? Cue the panic. Cue breathing just a little.

Come back with me to that winter night, and hear Oliver’s question again: “Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?” Through one palm, you feel your rhythmic heart beat; through the other, the rise and fall of your belly. Now, walk into the new Milton Yoga space and breathe in the perseverance, passion, and playfulness that Sean invested in his studio. Lay down your mat and inhale the energy, love, and compassion that radiates from the other people in the room. Sink back into child’s pose and feel yourself filling with air. Now is the time to stop breathing a little, to stop existing. Now is the time to listen, to breathe deep, and to live.

Namaste

Life Is About The Journey Not The Destination

My goal has been to share the practice of yoga with Milton and surrounding communities in a fun, expressive, playful way. When I opened 2 years ago, I had no idea you would come and make Milton Yoga the successful yoga community it is today. In the 730 days we have been open, we have had 1534 new students.  I know I speak for all of our teachers when I say, we are honored to teach you each time you step on the mat.

Somehow, tucked away on a busy street with no signage, a seed flourished in the most unlikely of places-  a yoga studio at the Carriage House Pre School.   I think back to the blood, sweat and more sweat that it took to build Milton Yoga.  The reality is that it took heart, passion and most importantly – you.

You came to Milton Yoga for different reasons- calming a stressed out mind, opening a runner’s hips, weight management or just wanted to try something new.  Sooner or later, I began to understand that Milton Yoga was more than a place to sweat and practice yoga, it was a community- the people met, the intentions set, the goals achieved and the presence on your mat day in and day out- make Milton Yoga unique.

And now the announcement you have all been waiting for…

Life is about the journey not the destination. As you know, the journey to Brush Hill Road started a year ago with twists and turns and bumps in the road.  Now, we are finally here. I am happy to announce that Milton Yoga has a new address- 12 Brush Hill Road, Milton, MA.  Starting on May 2nd, we will begin having classes at our new studio.  May 2nd seems to be a magic date for me, it is also Milton Yoga’s 2nd Birthday.

The schedule will maintain the existing classes, daytime classes will begin Monday, May 6th.  Email me any requests or suggestions for classes or times and I will make best efforts to accommodate!

Please join me in raising a waterbottle to longer hamstrings, breathing deeply and kicking some asanas in our new space.  Thank you for your patience and support. Welcome to the new Milton Yoga and Happy Birthday.

Namaste,

Sean

Located at the intersection of Brush Hill Road and Blue Hill Avenue. Our physical address is 12 Brush Hill Road. For GPS use 11 Blue Hill Avenue.

www.miltonyoga.com

Meet Milton Yoga’s Newest Team Members: Whitney, Valerie and Erica

Whitney Michalek, RYT 200 

Whitney strives to connect students with their inner light – a place of peace, tranquility and joy – by teaching a fun and challenging vinyasa flow that invokes self-awareness. As a student, her favorite classes are those that stretch the boundaries of her own practice and inspire her both on and off the mat; she hopes to bring the same to each of her students. She has trained with Open Doors, as well as Todd Skoglund and Georgia Reath of South Boston Yoga.

Join Whitney when we move to the new space on Tuesdays at noon and Thursdays at 5:30pm.

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Valerie Legendre, RYT 200 

I found yoga in 2006 when I was studying physical therapy at Northeastern University in Boston, MA. A friend of mine convinced me to join her in a yoga class and from that day, I was hooked! During college yoga became my outlet from the stress of studying. Yoga has helped me become physically and emotionally balanced, and has helped me become grateful for what every day has to offer. When I am not on the mat, I am enjoying the outdoors by running, hiking, snowboarding, snowshoeing, swimming, kayaking, biking…you name it!

As a full time physical therapist, I am very mindful of proper body alignment with each pose and transition. I strongly believe that yoga can be a healing practice when done with consciousness. I enjoy an energetic power vinyasa flow and I teach to build core strength and bring peacefulness to the mind.

Join Valerie now on Fridays at 6:30pm Power Vinyasa and catch her in the new space on Tuesdays at 7:00pm.

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Erica Nunnally, RYT 200 

My father sent me off to Wellesley College by saying, “figure out what makes you happy and do that, because to do anything else would be an insult to your soul”. It was at Wellesley that I stepped on my first yoga mat. It was awesome and personal and more importantly, yoga made me happy. Unfortunately, the rest of my life seemed incongruous with maintaining a regular practice and I settled for an “on again, off again” relationship with my mat.

Fast-forward 13 years: In 2005, I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. When a more conventional route for Crohn’s management failed to bring me relief, I decided to make some changes. I met with my gastroenterologist and arranged to wean myself off of the medications. We agreed to a one-year trial. I changed my diet and dedicated myself to my mat. At the end of my year, my colonoscopy showed no signs of inflammation, scarring, or any other indications that I had Crohn’s disease. My doctors were amazed. I was not.

Yoga makes me happy. It is food for my mind, body, and soul.

Erica believes in the restorative power of Yoga and places that belief at the forefront of her classes. Her approach is slow and mindful as she guides her students through a playful, yet challenging flow. Through her use of dialogue and music, Erica creates an atmosphere that feels safe and sacred.

Using breath as a guide, Erica’s classes focus on increasing flexibility, building strength, and finding that inner calm. She encourages her students to explore the tiny shifts within the physical body that can bring integrity to a posture and allows the student to experience the liberating quality of yoga.

Join Erica when we move to the new space on Thursdays at 9:30am.

view schedule online

Turn It Over: On Virginia Woolf, Perspective, and Flipping Your Dog

To begin my creative writing class’s unit on memoir and the craft of nonfiction, I begin with a prompt: using a famous final sentence (selected from a list which I provide), begin a scene. The list I hand out includes classic final lines from novels (Fitzgerald: “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past,” and Woolf: “Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigue, I have had my vision”) and last lines from contemporary film (Fight Club: “You met me at a very strange time in my life,” or The Bourne Identity: “You have I.D.?” “Not really”). The idea is to get students thinking about perspective, the fluidity of it, the ease with which we can reposition ourselves to gain a new viewpoint. What do we learn when we turn Gatsby’s ruin into the rebirth of a story? What happens when Jason Bourne must, once again, recreate an identity? When we turn the ending over, when it becomes an opening rather than a close, we gain vision that defies chronology and space. We become omniscient where we once saw a blank page or a black screen.

I felt this expansion of vision when I first flipped my dog in one of Jen’s power vinyasa classes. Downward facing dog is arguably the most iconic yoga pose, and we spend many minutes every class perfecting the upside-down “v” with our bodies. We go into the pose on autopilot; we spread our fingers wide, release our shoulders, stretch our shins, and focus our gaze on our knees as though our eyes are magnetically attracted to the patella. Are you imagining yourself there, on your mat? Can you feel the pull in your muscles, connect with the comfort that comes from such a familiar pose?

Now flip your dog. Turn it over.

Suddenly the room looks different; it expands into the corners of our peripheral vision. The arm that stretches forward seems to invite possibility—a deeper stretch, a calmer breath. The heels root deeply into the mat; we are both grounded and reaching. With a simple flip, we change our view.

As we struggle to make sense of the pain, sadness, and anger we feel from the events of Marathon Monday, I can’t help but hope that those visceral reactions will also be turned over—are already being turned over. In images of the aftermath, I see resilience, and courage, and compassion. I see final sentences and last lines turning into beginnings and openings that shift perspective and challenge the unknown. I feel the hopefulness and limitlessness that radiates when you flip your dog.

Namaste.

10 Ways to Know You’re a Yoga Addict

Submitted by Hannah

Your iPhone autocorrects “haha” to “Hatha.”

Instead of sorting your laundry piles into “whites” and “colors,” you sort “lululemon” and “non-lululemon.”

You’re jealous of your dog’s perfect form in Adho mukha śvānāsana (downward-facing dog).

You schedule your entire day around class times.

Your news sources of choice are the New York Times and Yoga Journal.

You spend some time thinking about a classic existential question: if you fall out of tree pose, and there’s no one else around, did you really fall?

You have a corner of dead space in your house so that you have a place to practice inversions.

You’d rather spend money on a yoga workshop than groceries.

When someone complains about an injury or ache, you say, “I know a yoga pose that can help.”

You condition yourself to actually like coconut water.

Toast Falling Butter-Side Down

Tuesday March 5 was what my grandmother calls a “toast falling butter-side down” kind of day (also known as Murphy’s Law, for those of us preferring concision). Thanks to insomnia, I found myself, at 5:00am, wide awake and on my way to Starbucks to get a latte and do some reading for grad school. At 7:00, I walked the dog, had a cup of tea, and put on my happy face for work. By 9:30 I realized, while conversing with a student, that she was exhibiting symptoms of depression and thoughts of self-harm. I sat with her while she cried, then walked her to the Health Center. At 11:00, I was nursing caffeine fix number three and trying to muster the energy to call a parent who was unhappy with his child’s grade on a paper. By noon, I had managed to convince aforementioned parent that a B- on one paper would not ruin his son’s chances at an Ivy League school. When two students kindly stopped by to ask if they could get me anything from Starbucks, they got a vehement “Yes, please” for caffeine fix number four. At 3:00, I went to a doctor’s appointment, at the end of which an unhappy phlebotomist missed my vein twice before finally drawing blood. She took half a pint and in her hurry to get me out the door, skipped the ten minute resting period, handed me a juice box, and sent me on my way. In the car, I felt faint. I called my dad and the sound of his voice on the other end of the phone made me cry. “It’s been a long day and I’m tired and she gave me a dumb Hello Kitty Band-Aid,” I wept.  At home, I spent twenty minutes debating between having a glass of wine or going to Sean’s Fusion class. Though the cabernet was calling, I put on my lululemon and headed out the door.

The people at Milton Yoga—instructors and students alike—quickly come to feel like family, and arriving to class made me think, “For the next hour, everything’s going to be okay.” Sean’s warm hello—no different from any other day—assured me, even before getting on my mat, that I was in a safe and peaceful place. Though I think of yoga more as a physical and mental practice, rather than a spiritual journey, I did set an intention for that class, a reminder that Sean periodically voices: relax. And from the first downward dog through the muscle-aching active bridges and balance-challenging 911s, that was my mantra. For sixty minutes, my racing thoughts went on the backburner, and my mind was intent on Sean’s instructions, the upbeat playlist, and the sense of calm that swept from my fingertips in chair pose to my feet in chaturanga.

After class, I didn’t need that glass of cabernet. I knew that the next day I would go to Hatha, that Sean would remind me to smile and breathe (life’s essentials), and that whatever the world would throw at me could be put aside when I was on my mat. I tucked the comfort of that thought around me like a blanket, and slept through the night.

Submitted by Hannah