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<channel><title><![CDATA[Christine Moore Shimmy Yogini - Moore blogs]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs]]></link><description><![CDATA[Moore blogs]]></description><pubDate>Wed, 06 May 2026 08:47:12 -0700</pubDate><generator>Weebly</generator><item><title><![CDATA[                                      A Sparkle in your eyes]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/-a-sparkle-in-your-eyes]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/-a-sparkle-in-your-eyes#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Sun, 02 Aug 2015 15:28:03 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/-a-sparkle-in-your-eyes</guid><description><![CDATA[       On a once In a blue moon day, I was asked, how do you get the sparkle back in your eyes?  In your average yoga class, there is no talking, at least not on the student&rsquo;s part. In the Boulder County Jail I find it difficult at times to settle down a little occasional class conversation. I try not to encourage it, but at times it creates connection, understanding and even a deeper sense of our shared humanity. Stories always do this, and if there is value for everyone in them, why stif [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-border-width:0 " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/uploads/2/5/6/2/25628066/1438529261.png" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div class="paragraph" style="text-align:left;"><font size="3"><font color="#d5d5d5"><span style="">On a once In a blue moon day, I was asked, how do you get the sparkle back in your eyes?</span><br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  <span style="">In your average yoga class, there is no talking, at least not on the student&rsquo;s part. In the Boulder County Jail I find it difficult at times to settle down a little occasional class conversation. I try not to encourage it, but at times it creates connection, understanding and even a deeper sense of our shared humanity. Stories always do this, and if there is value for everyone in them, why stifle that?</span><br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  <span style="">The story on the blue moon day was that of a student whose grandmother asked her mother where the sparkle in her daughter&rsquo;s eyes had gone. Her grandmother said that her granddaughter used to &ldquo;have the light.&rdquo; The woman who shared this story was this child, and seven at that time. I had to ask if we all didn&rsquo;t lose some of our sparkle that most pre seven year old children glow with. Do we somehow get taught not to sparkle? Does growing up in our culture tend to dim the light of childhood? </span><br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  <span style="">I do not know the answer to this, but I imagine it&rsquo;s a very lucky child that doesn&rsquo;t lose some of their light. Often children are settling in front of a television, or computer. We are living in a culture where it isn&rsquo;t considered safe to run free and play without adult supervision. Even as a child who was allowed this freedom, I feel my sparkle was dimmed. Dimmed by the adults who found the pressure of daily life too great to bear, and were unhappy. None of the students in the jail that day felt alone in having lost some childhood sparkle.</span><br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  <span style="">How do we find our sparkle? My answer to this question is yoga. Yoga can bring us back to our light. I truly believe in my conviction about this. This is why so many individuals are flocking to yoga classes. They come to get fit and find personal freedom and transformation. Even as people push through Westernized yoga with a focus on postures, something beckons them into the vast yogic call toward happiness, a greater sense of self, even enlightenment. At first it&rsquo;s the exercise, but then gently the teachings, the stillness the call of peace sneak and settle in. The sparkle in the eye of childhood returns. Even in a jail cell, I am told; people find strength, stability and inner peace, with the practice of yoga and meditation. </span><br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  <span style="">The benefits of a mindful practice lights us up! I hope that EVERYONE can leave yoga feeling better than they felt before getting started. That there is a sense of being more centered and able to be more connected with that inner sparkly child. </span><br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  </font><span style=""><font color="#d5d5d5">As a dancer I find I am easily lifted into this place through dance as well. It is not about the physical movement, but more about the freedom of expression and play involved. The meditative state I enter as I move. I for one could not live without yoga and dance. For me, it&rsquo;s as vital as water or breathe. It&rsquo;s the sparkle in my eye.&nbsp;</font></span></font><br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Screaming]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/screaming]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/screaming#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Sun, 28 Jun 2015 14:49:47 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/screaming</guid><description><![CDATA[ Today the screaming stopped. The room felt different on entry to my adaptive yoga class in a group home. There was a stillness that made me wonder, but I didn&rsquo;t ask.Two weeks ago I walked into the same house with the walls vibrating in a scream. I looked into your eyes and wondered what it was like inside that body. I practiced the grounding that had calmed the storm before and after about 15 minutes of screaming and thrashing about a quiet set in. Balance was temporarily restored and eve [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<span style="display: table;z-index:10;width:auto;position:relative;float:right;max-width:100%;"><span class="imgPusher" style="top:0px"></span><a><img src="https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/uploads/2/5/6/2/25628066/2907147.jpg?1435502904" style="margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; border-width:0; max-width:100%" alt="Picture" class="galleryImageBorder wsite-image" /></a><span style="display: table-caption; caption-side: bottom; font-size: 90%; margin-top: -10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;" class="wsite-caption"></span></span> <div class="paragraph" style="text-align:left;display:block;"><font size="3"><font color="#a1a1a1">Today the screaming stopped. The room felt different on entry to my adaptive yoga class in a group home. There was a stillness that made me wonder, but I didn&rsquo;t ask.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>Two weeks ago I walked into the same house with the walls vibrating in a scream. I looked into your eyes and wondered what it was like inside that body. I practiced the grounding that had calmed the storm before and after about 15 minutes of screaming and thrashing about a quiet set in. Balance was temporarily restored and even a glimpse of laughter replaced it. Those eyes found focus close to my face. You reached for my pants, and the colors that matched your socks.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>You rocked in time to MC Yogi. Oh dear one, you touched my heart.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>But today it was quiet, and I see you as this cloud quietly drifting off and away.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>Your withered body that no longer wished to eat has released you.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>I&rsquo;m so grateful that I had the chance to find that sweet woman inside the body that seemed so troubling to be inside. You were a gift to my life, and I&rsquo;m glad I took the time to look beyond the screams.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>I&rsquo;m so blessed to have gazed into your eyes and held your feet and knees in hopes that you would find a little connection.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>You were a beautiful gift to me, and I&rsquo;m lucky that we met.<br /></font></font><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span><br /><br /></div> <hr style="width:100%;clear:both;visibility:hidden;"></hr>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Rugged Ground]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/rugged-ground]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/rugged-ground#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Sat, 06 Jun 2015 14:43:20 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/rugged-ground</guid><description><![CDATA[       I love the desert. I love the vast open space and that fixes my internal gaze and stills my wandering mind.  I find expansion in the stones and the dirt. The colors in the rocks and the tiny bursts of plants are vibrant. The plants themselves seem to beat all odds just to come through the rugged ground. The trees twist and turn against the wind, seeking the sun.  Nature so impresses me, I never tire of her announcements to live.  The last time I visited the desert I discovered places wher [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-border-width:0 " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/uploads/2/5/6/2/25628066/1433601763.png" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div class="paragraph" style="text-align:left;"><font size="3"><font color="#d5d5d5">I love the desert. I love the vast open space and that fixes my internal gaze and stills my wandering mind.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  I find expansion in the stones and the dirt. The colors in the rocks and the tiny bursts of plants are vibrant. The plants themselves seem to beat all odds just to come through the rugged ground. The trees twist and turn against the wind, seeking the sun.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  Nature so impresses me, I never tire of her announcements to live.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  The last time I visited the desert I discovered places where the bones and plants from the Jurassic period were left imbedded in stone to view and to allow my imagination to wander back millions of years. I could almost feel the breath of sauropods on my neck and feel the earth tremble beneath their feet. I wonder if we are making our way toward a vast extinction again.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  Who will miss us? Who might just dig us up and place us in museums as a creature of the past?<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  So, as my inner gaze quiets it begins to burn back in time. I search for meaning in the madness we humans have come to witness as everyday life.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  I love the desert</font></font><br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Spaces In Between]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/the-spaces-in-between]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/the-spaces-in-between#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Wed, 24 Dec 2014 19:46:27 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/the-spaces-in-between</guid><description><![CDATA[ 	 		 			 				 					 						       					 								 					 						  On the road to reach a goal, like looking toward the stars, there is a vast space of in between. The road ahead stretches and turns and excitement builds as we see the last road sign, twenty miles to ______, almost there!!Our culture is goal oriented; most of us live for the future, weekend, vacation, or retirement. We miss the moment and leap to the next place of happiness so much so it feels we barely find peace and enjoy it, even  [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div class="wsite-multicol"><div class="wsite-multicol-table-wrap" style="margin:0 -15px;"> 	<table class="wsite-multicol-table"> 		<tbody class="wsite-multicol-tbody"> 			<tr class="wsite-multicol-tr"> 				<td class="wsite-multicol-col" style="width:50%; padding:0 15px;"> 					 						  <span class='imgPusher' style='float:right;height:0px'></span><span style='display: table;z-index:10;width:auto;position:relative;float:right;max-width:100%;;clear:right;margin-top:0px;*margin-top:0px'><a><img src="https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/uploads/2/5/6/2/25628066/9802723.jpg?1419450313" style="margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; border-width:1px;padding:3px; max-width:100%" alt="Picture" class="galleryImageBorder wsite-image" /></a><span style="display: table-caption; caption-side: bottom; font-size: 90%; margin-top: -10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;" class="wsite-caption"></span></span> <div class="paragraph" style="text-align:left;display:block;"></div> <hr style="width:100%;clear:both;visibility:hidden;"></hr>   					 				</td>				<td class="wsite-multicol-col" style="width:50%; padding:0 15px;"> 					 						  <div class="paragraph" style="text-align:left;"><font size="3"><font color="#d5d5d5">On the road to reach a goal, like looking toward the stars, there is a vast space of in between. The road ahead stretches and turns and excitement builds as we see the last road sign, twenty miles to ______, almost there!!<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>Our culture is goal oriented; most of us live for the future, weekend, vacation, or retirement. We miss the moment and leap to the next place of happiness so much so it feels we barely find peace and enjoy it, even when it comes. It&rsquo;s no surprise that Saturday is a more special day than Sunday as the anticipation of Monday withers away the joy of presence. Is there anything that different about Friday night than Sunday? In our elusion, indeed there is.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>I am in the in between place right now. The future is unknown to me. I am asked what I do and what my goals are regularly. One friend asked, &ldquo;what does it feel like being unemployed, I&rsquo;m kind of jealous!?&rdquo; All the questions lead to some soul searching and an exciting time of creating a new identity. I lost my job of 15 years, so what comes next.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>I started to imagine myself suspended on a staircase, between steps. I think everyone has felt that feeling like crawling backward on a ladder when your foot is seeking the next rung, heart races a little when it&rsquo;s not where you expected it to be, uneasy, what if you miss it altogether? Recently, my Aunt Penny took a twenty step fall down the stairs. I imagine in those few moments, all the scary thoughts racing through her mind. Even as she uses a walker to regain her strength to walk again, she is suspended in an in between place.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>My dear mentor, Matthew Sanford wrote this piece. &ldquo;The places you don&rsquo;t feel in you are graceful, they&rsquo;re not lost, and they&rsquo;re not absent. They&rsquo;re part of your strength of your fiber. In a piece of wood, it&rsquo;s the empty space and spaces in between that make it strong. The world gets lighter when you include all of yourself.&rdquo; He should know, he lives in a wheelchair, and it&rsquo;s taken years in his journey to find those spaces in between and connect to them.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>Yesterday, I taught two yoga classes at the jail, one week before Christmas. Every inmate is suspended in an in between place. One was anxious to get on to prison, while others were seeing this as the Christmas that they were separated from family. Talk about longing for the next place! In the next place for each of them is an in between, often they leave jail without a home or a job to go to. They may find that no one picks up the phone. And while I know what the reader is thinking, that they may have earned this fate. Maybe that&rsquo;s true, I do not know their stories, but they are all human beings. That isn&rsquo;t the point anyway, the point is that they are suspended in the in between having lost some sense of identity. That identity might be an illusion anyway, of how culture defines us, and we define ourselves. The past may contribute to who we are, but just like living for the future it is not the reality of this moment. There is choice every step of the way.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>What depth of wisdom is there to gain in this space in between? I am finding bucketfuls. We are in the depth of winter, soon approaching the darkest day of the year. The holiday season approaches, with anticipation of a new year. There is wisdom to be gained in these dark and inward hours, if we dare step away from the rat race of shopping and parties and explore the shadows in between.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>I encourage you to dare venture there and see what unfolds. What is life if we cannot be present in the spaces in between?<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span><br /></font></font><br /></div>   					 				</td>			</tr> 		</tbody> 	</table> </div></div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Two Become One]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/two-become-one]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/two-become-one#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Sun, 24 Aug 2014 00:28:28 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/two-become-one</guid><description><![CDATA[           Yesterday I was honored to witness my dear friend&rsquo;s exchanging vows.&nbsp;It was a joy to see the deep love and passion between the two of them. The energy between them was thick and dreamy. It held the kind of contentment we all hope to find in this lifetime. It is obvious and unshakable the way that they complement each others lives.Together the two become one.I am often moved at weddings, but something was different here, in that the two are women. That was a first for me as  [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-thin " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/uploads/2/5/6/2/25628066/6639471_orig.jpg" alt="Picture" style="width:100%;max-width:720px" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div><div style="height: 20px; overflow: hidden; width: 100%;"></div> <hr class="styled-hr" style="width:100%;"></hr> <div style="height: 20px; overflow: hidden; width: 100%;"></div></div>  <div class="paragraph" style="text-align:left;"><font size="3"><font color="#d5d5d5">Yesterday I was honored to witness my dear friend&rsquo;s exchanging vows.&nbsp;It was a joy to see the deep love and passion between the two of them. The energy between them was thick and dreamy. It held the kind of contentment we all hope to find in this lifetime. It is obvious and unshakable the way that they complement each others lives.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>Together the two become one.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>I am often moved at weddings, but something was different here, in that the two are women. That was a first for me as weddings go. It just seems a sin, so to speak, that anyone would consider this coupling to be wrong in any way.&nbsp;Bravo to Colorado for allowing these two to wed. Shame on anyone who would be opposed to two people so right for each other becoming legally bound if they so choose.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>My heart is full in seeing such caring support of friends and family.&nbsp;<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>Something opens our wings.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>Something makes boredom and hurt disappear.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>Someone fills the cup in front of us: We taste only sacredness. ~Rumi</font></font><br /><span></span><br /><span></span></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Lost Piece of Summer.]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/the-lost-piece-of-summer]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/the-lost-piece-of-summer#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Sun, 20 Jul 2014 16:20:31 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/the-lost-piece-of-summer</guid><description><![CDATA[     Feels like a lost a piece of time. Lost weeks.I&rsquo;m wrapped up in blankets with the summer heat of the outdoors beckoning me to break free from this wintry state of mindFever fluctuating  Relentless cough  Days turning to night filled with colorful, dramatic dreams   And night turns again to day drifting in and out of slumber  I&rsquo;m uncertain which day of the week it is    And this is how July flutters by with a dozen plans taken.   Or is it a dozen plans shifted?   Missing weddings [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div style="height: 20px; overflow: hidden; width: 100%;"></div> <hr class="styled-hr" style="width:100%;"></hr> <div style="height: 20px; overflow: hidden; width: 100%;"></div></div>  <span class='imgPusher' style='float:left;height:0px'></span><span style='display: table;z-index:10;width:auto;position:relative;float:left;max-width:100%;;clear:left;margin-top:0px;*margin-top:0px'><a><img src="https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/uploads/2/5/6/2/25628066/4759020.jpg" style="margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; border-width:1px;padding:3px; max-width:100%" alt="Picture" class="galleryImageBorder wsite-image" /></a><span style="display: table-caption; caption-side: bottom; font-size: 90%; margin-top: -10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;" class="wsite-caption"></span></span> <div class="paragraph" style="display:block;"><br /><br /><font size="3"><font color="#4cc9a4"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Feels like a lost a piece of time. Lost weeks.<br /><span></span><br /></font></font><span style="color: rgb(76, 201, 164); font-size: medium; line-height: 1.5; background-color: initial;">I&rsquo;m wrapped up in blankets with the summer heat of the outdoors beckoning me to break free from this wintry state of mind</span><br /><font size="3"><font color="#4cc9a4"><span></span><br /></font></font><br /><font size="3"><font color="#4cc9a4">Fever fluctuating<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  Relentless cough<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  Days turning to night filled with colorful, dramatic dreams <br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  And night turns again to day drifting in and out of slumber<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  I&rsquo;m uncertain which day of the week it is<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>    And this is how July flutters by with a dozen plans taken. <br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  Or is it a dozen plans shifted? <br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  Missing weddings, performances, workshops and visits with friends.<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  These events that go on wonderfully without my presence<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  Blown away from making memories, as if a flame ignited them<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  What can come from these ashes of ill?<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>    Some peace and quiet for soul searching<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  Visions <br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  Some captured recollections of my vacation spent by the sea<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>    A recollection of who and how<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  I long to be on this journey ahead<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  Remembering for the days ahead that will find me<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  Strong again<br /><span></span><br /><span></span>  The lost piece becomes the newfound peace.</font></font><br /><span></span><br /><span></span></div> <hr style="width:100%;clear:both;visibility:hidden;"></hr>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Open your heart]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/open-your-heart]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/open-your-heart#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Mon, 17 Feb 2014 17:16:08 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/moore-blogs/open-your-heart</guid><description><![CDATA[ &ldquo;Open your heart&rdquo; is a statement we often hear and wonder about. I wonder sometimes if my heart is open, and sometimes I&rsquo;m sure I don&rsquo;t think I want it to be.  In yoga, we do a lot of heart openers. Sometimes I do sequencing around the idea of opening the heart chakra, the Anhata. Does this leave practitioners vulnerable? How open does a wounded heart want to be?  Sun salutations and back bends open our heart, can we open ourselves and at the same time feel protected? I  [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<span class='imgPusher' style='float:left;height:0px'></span><span style='display: table;z-index:10;width:auto;position:relative;float:left;max-width:100%;;clear:left;margin-top:0px;*margin-top:0px'><a><img src="https://www.christinemooreshimmyogini.com/uploads/2/5/6/2/25628066/8222897.jpg" style="margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; none; max-width:100%" alt="Picture" class="galleryImageBorder wsite-image" /></a><span style="display: table-caption; caption-side: bottom; font-size: 90%; margin-top: -10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: center;" class="wsite-caption"></span></span> <div class="paragraph" style="text-align:left;display:block;"><font size="3"><font color="#a9e976">&ldquo;Open your heart&rdquo; is a statement we often hear and wonder about. I wonder sometimes if my heart is open, and sometimes I&rsquo;m sure I don&rsquo;t think I want it to be.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  In yoga, we do a lot of heart openers. Sometimes I do sequencing around the idea of opening the heart chakra, the Anhata. Does this leave practitioners vulnerable? How open does a wounded heart want to be?<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  Sun salutations and back bends open our heart, can we open ourselves and at the same time feel protected? I think so. I think we can blaze our energy out in all directions and still hold a container of safety around ourselves. We can claim our space, allow our energy to fill the space around us and maybe even have it bounce right back in. This makes us stronger and sure of our selves, not more vulnerable. We open our hearts for our own personal healing, not just to give it all away.<br /><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span>  If we build our strength aligning and opening our body and mind with an open heart, my hope is that our strength and personal integrity make us more able to protect ourselves and face obstacles, not less.</font><br /></font><span style=""></span><br /><span style=""></span></div> <hr style="width:100%;clear:both;visibility:hidden;"></hr>]]></content:encoded></item></channel></rss>