Instead I have a hope in the process of loving, in the value of growing into my capacity to show up for him with tenderness. I have hope in Love’s power to redeem my hardened heart so that I can lay down my own sword of childish resentment and refrain from endlessly litigating my case against him for his shortcomings and the ways they hurt me over the years. I have hope in the power of my whole-hearted engagement to uplift, to redeem, and to restore wholeness—both mine and his. I have hope in the power of prayer to bolster and support me. I have hope in the way that ordinary encounters prove me to me again and again that God does not live in the sky, but instead comes to life in and through people and reality just as it is. I have hope in the power of practice and the ongoing return to Love that I believe sincere practice over time promises. I have hope in the premise that no act of Love is ever wasted.

Perhaps the biggest hallmark of aging (and I like to think maturing a bit along the way) is that the shadow elements no longer serve as reasons to stop engaging the process of practice or learning and studying the maps the Great Ones have given. I am no longer looking for a light that doesn’t cast a shadow. I no longer let the shadows determine how I feel about the light. Instead, I know that light and dark come together in this realm, that every teaching can be exploited, every high comes with a corresponding low, every peak has a a trough, and even the most detailed map can only outline the journey and point the way. A

The movement toward  growth inside a longing to love fully  is how I relate  to what before felt “spiritual” and now just seems like the extra-ordinary possibility inherent in being human. Spirituality, for me, is the “extra” in the ordinary where life is made extraordinary, not because of something fantastical, exalted, or outside of my life, but because the immediacy of life is Grace-soaked— sanctified through attention, intention, reverence, recognition and the willingness to return again and again to the questions that most move me forward— How can I love more fully? What inside this situation is holy? How can I truly serve?

Skill, in this case, does not mean the skill of being super-competent or doing fancy poses or being popular on Instagram, all of which are wonderful things. Here, we are talking about  the skill of being able to act in the world in accordance with one's Highest recognitions, one's deepest understandings, and one's most expansive inclinations. We are talking about the skill of bringing our efforts to Grace and being carried by the larger currents with which one aligns themselves. 


If Life is always communicating with me, how does it speak? If Life is always communicating with me, am I listening? If Life is always communicating with me, how do I best respond?

These precious moments arise in the midst of the awkward silences and are scattered between the repeating comments that reveal his cognitive impairment and signal the movement away from the Dad I once knew. These moments cannot be forced or coerced, but they can be invited by curiosity, nourished through patience, and appreciated in the tenderness of love.

The app is live! We've got over 300 archived classes to begin with more being added daily. New features and easy-to-use archives, take Christina Sell Yoga with you on your phone, tablet or computer.

Yeah, one would think that, based on the slew of slogans and promises offered in the marketplace of  yoga. From “Live your Best Life”  to “Dare to Dharma Dream,” spiritual transformation  is packaged and sold as though each one of us, through healthy habits and a few life hacks, could craft ourselves into an optimized, high-performance version of who we are where all of our rough edges are smooth, our idiosyncratic features no longer annoy others, we are always hydrated, and we make money without working. 

I don’t regret the long years of adhering to forms, learning standards, and practicing within structures. On the whole, I was more served than damaged from the way I was “brought up” in yoga. And, I am very grateful to have expanded beyond that upbringing to grow more into myself and my own opinions in a way that allows me to use what came before while not being limited by it. 

Personally, I think most teachers I work with forget about the second part of the formula. If you come to my class I want to meet you where you are. I also want to offer any insight I have that might help you go further-- whether that “further” is resting more, learning some more, working harder, refining a pose, and/or finding a good modification/alternative for a posture.

And, you know, while the possibility of the "blank slate" can be useful at the New Year, I believe that transformation is possible any day of the year and sometimes the best "starting again" happens in the privacy of my own heart.

Growing Older has softened some of my hard-edged rigidites about what constitutes good studentship and teaching. I care a whole lot less about strict rules, protocols, and other people’s reasons for practice than I did when I was first starting out. I know a whole lot less about what other people should or shouldn’t do than I did when I was younger.

But I don’t want my alignment in yoga like that either — dogmatic, threatening, or magical. I want to avail myself of what is helpful, useful, and loving. I want space to explore, to/ know and not know, to ask questions, to get help, to come to my own conclusions and still belong.

In terms of spiritual life, I don’t think expectancy is the same as expectations, be those expectations positive thoughts or visions of impending doom. I think expectancy has something to do with honoring the seasons of gestation — of the winters in life that, for all of their busy-ness and outer demands, are often marked by ennui, not-knowing, and waiting.

More important than training a “way” to teach or providing a set guideline of “what” to teach, is having an ongoing interest in what’s going well, what could be shored up a bit, what feels real to me as I present it, what lands well with my students, and so on.

All these years later, in a time where, for many of us, yoga community exists online more than in a shared physical space, and after many permutations of loss in my life — some of my own choosing and some as a result of other people’s choices — this reflection strikes me as a great reminder of interconnection and how, while no one lives our lives for us or does the yoga for us, and we do not do it alone.

When the uprising of existential dread, fear, concern, heartbreak, and uneasy uncertainty arrives on the doorstep of my well-being, I chant. Unabashedly. Loudly. Awkwardly. Shamelessly. And when shame arrives as it so often does to spoil a mood, I chant in the presence of shame.

I am saying that, from what I can tell, none of think we are ruining yoga. I know that I don’t think it is me. Of course, truth be told, I am playing my part. I am white woman earning a living in and through the yoga industrial complex. Maybe I should start calling my classes Stretching in Sanskrit or Consciousness Exercises in Cute Clothes or Picky Details in Risky Positions, instead of yoga. (Just brainstorming here, don’t mind me.)

Cues are little locked messages and are generally insufficient without repetition, explanation, demonstration, self-awareness, and interest applied over time. And, every instruction needs to be balanced within the pose, the person who is practicing the posture, and with a bunch of other instructions.