Meditate Without Rules.

I don’t get frustrated when my kids interrupt my meditation.

I should preface this with it having nothing to do with me being shrouded with patience (I’m not), or “always calm”, as most strangers (incorrectly) assume when they hear I teach yoga.

You see, my practice is so lax and informal, most of the time my kids don’t know if I’m sleeping, meditating, praying, or trying to make sense of who I am upon waking.

There was a time when I’d muscle my way through my practice, lotus-bound and blood flow slowly diminishing to my lower extremities.

“This will pass”,

I’d repeat to myself, followed instantly by my heavily influenced inner critic, believing that everyone else is doing it better, and is therefore more loveable than me.

“You’re a yoga teacher and you feel anxious while meditating?!”

“You really think this much?”

“By not controlling your thoughts, you have again, failed.”

I endured vipassana for 10 days - working through my samskaras, waking up at 4am, surviving on one meal/day - to break free on day 10 and reach for a cocktail and joint. Not even kidding.

For over a decade, it was about ticking boxes that were externally devised.

It took years for me to change. To really pause. To listen to my purest needs. To care for myself as I would for my kids. My overactive adrenals and hard-on-myself ways resulted in a weak immune system, a run-in with a pole and self-induced concussion, and most importantly, a huge wake up call.

My perspective and approach to my practice transformed and rather than a tight-bellied seated position, for two years it was yoga nidra, morning and night. Nothing fancy, just a few favs on Insight Timer. I re-created a habit of accepting my current reality, and gave myself permission to be there.

These days I mix it up. I’m back to a seated practice with plenty of nadi shodhana, but if the inner crazies are running wild, it’s yoga nidra.

My point is, don’t make your practice about being wrong, right, good, bad.

Make it about listening. Curiosity. Loving presence.

Love, Leanne xoxo