it was last night, as i was leaving yoga class, that it finally dawned on me – this is my Job now! even though i have been working pretty much non stop to make this studio happen, i haven’t had a chance to stop and grasp the reality.

finally, i got to taste a bit of the sweetness that this new venture is going to bring me…sharing my passion, meeting interesting and inspiring people, new experiences in yoga and creativity, and a lightness from the freedom of doing what i love.

as a guest in a tiny, brightly and artfully decorated studio overlooking rockport harbor, with the sun setting colorfully over the calm water and a handful of souls gathered together, i found my path illuminated, and it is brighter than i could have ever imagined.

once in a while, when i’m feeling moved, i’ll pick up a copy of magazines like yoga journal or body and soul. at first i get the rush of “oooh, i’m inspired, i’m going to do all these poses and get my zen on and be all blissed out as soon as i close this magazine…as soon as he/she stops that pterodactyl-like cry, as soon as i get the time…” and then i close the magazine, and my kids are back to their usual antics, gnawing at my earlobes and wrecking havoc on my household. the initial eye-candy buzz wears off and i’m left feeling like a frumpy, stressed-out mama without the time (or ability) to ever get it right like they do in the magazines.

i’m going to say it: i don’t really meditate in a candle-lit space with a beautiful little altar and perfect flowers floating in bowls with overpriced cashmere throws draped around me. i’m lucky if i get about five minutes a day for what i like to call “mama-meditation”.

there are no pictures of this un-serenelike meditation in the magazines that i read. if the photographers came to my house to shoot pictures for a mama-meditation article, they’d most likely see me hunched on the floor in the corner of the room, with one child sitting on my shoulders, the other pulling the scoop-neck of my shirt down. the shirt would most likely be stained, and if it’s black, there would be sweeping streaks of boogery mucus along it, especially around the shoulder area. i would be closing my eyes, but my eyelids would be being pried open by inquiring fingers. the phone would probably be ringing and i would surely be ignoring it. there would be a huge steaming mug of coffee close by for easy grabbing (hopefully i get to it first), because in my world, meditation always involves large amounts of coffee. bob marley or the grateful dead would be on the record player, skipping at random intervals. there would be food cooking in the kitchen, and a friend (or two) or some family members in the other room watching tv.

this is my kind of meditation. it’s not photo-friendly, and it probably doesn’t fall under any traditional definition of meditation, but it’s mine. if i only meditated when i had the ability to make it “perfect”, it would never happen. my personal motto, especially when it comes to meditation, is that it’s better to do anything than not do it at all.

living in the moment, you ask? you betcha. concentrated attention on some object of thought? oooooooh yeah. mama-meditation has it’s benefits- stepping out of the routine, and taking a moment to breathe in and refocus. closing your eyes, even if for a moment, and looking inward. taking that extra second for yourself to get back to your center.

mamas, if you’re waiting for the glowing, silence-filled moment to arrive to get acquainted with meditation, don’t hold your breath. lower your meditation standards and give mama-meditation a shot! you won’t be disappointed.

(please tell me i’m not the only one that meditates like this.)

by nina beana

with the onset of longer springlike days, i’m constantly searching for ways to get out and live life with my two little ones in tow. for my kids, it’s not so much about where we go or how long we’re there for, it’s more about the fact that we’re out of the house. new environment, new adventures, new things to appreciate (and/or destroy, depending on which bean you’re talking about).

my partner-in-crime husband has stopped laughing at me and what he calls my “snack packs”. there was a time years back when he would chuckle before all our outings, jokingly asking if i packed enough snacks (and spare outfits, and emergency bad-weather gear) for the world. but now he knows the power of the snack packs. now we’ll be in the car and he’ll look over at me all hungry and thank me for always having the goods at the ready. now i don’t leave home without the good ole’ snack packs. but now i like to call it “zen in a basket”.

zen in a basket is easy, and i think it really works. take two kids (in my case at least…or even if you’re flying solo…the zen basket still has powers!) that have been cooped up. take one mama desperate to turn off the television and get away from the phone and be outdoors. my zen basket is a good two and a half feet by one foot- quite a substantial space to pack some serious snacks and fun. inside? you ask….i put lots of fruit leathers, a butterfly and tree identification book, a “field journal” for my daughter to scribble in, a camera, some bubbles, sippy cups filled with non-curdling beverages over ice, little baggies of munchable stuff, some wipes (peeing in the forest? a cinch. a blown out diaper? no problem.), flash cards, a collection bucket or some collection cups, all-natural bug spray, some water for the adults, various nuts and berries. the zen basket can be modified any number of ways- when i’m traveling solo i like to fill it up with random journals or volumes of poetry that i haven’t read in a while, a flask of the strong stuff (just kidding), some inspirational quotes and my 35mm camera.

the reason it’s zen? because i can be anywhere- the forest, the back of my cluttered van,or a mosquito-covered field, and i have my security basket of zen. i tell myself “it’s ok. we can eat fruit leather and we can identify any tree around us. i can wipe any drippy bum that passes me by!” and life just seems better. it’s my mama security blanket.

disclaimer: the only thing is that you have to be ok enough with your hipmama-self to be toting around a huge-as-hell basket. and you can get into tricky basket-carrying situations if one or two (or more) of your children suddenly need to be carried out of said forest…but that’s another story for another day, isn’t it? carry the basket on your head and breathe in the zen.

let’s hear it for the basket of zen!

by nina beana

the whole self