https://www.collectingatha.com/contact daily 0.75 2024-02-21 https://www.collectingatha.com/a-story daily 0.75 2024-06-08 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/c191cdbe-dab2-435b-932a-a98917aade07/IMG_1741.JPG A Story - Ashlyn Elizabeth In 2012, a friend invited me to go to a yoga class with her after school. I agreed. Easy. "Why not?" At the studio, a sign told me to, "Slow down. Don't hurry. Don't worry. Trust the process." I can't remember my first class, and I can't remember my 50th, but the words on that sign and the instructor's guidance in those practices began weaving their way into my thought patterns. Yoga let me hold on until I learned I could float. In 2015, I began teaching vinyasa*1 at my college's recreation center. In the summer of 2016, I received my 200-hour yoga certification under the guidance of Mary Byerly at Panacea de la Montaña in Costa Rica. Her training put roots to gratitude, to other roots, to history, to healing. I taught with a deeper appreciation for yoga's spread. All that rich and clastic knowledge about our causal bodies, our subtle rhythms, our physical form - it fascinated me. (You mean to tell me I am sitting on seeds profound and full of peace? I don't have to be at war with my thoughts? And the doubt can clear, and anger is a gear for redirection?) While teaching, I didn't feel nervous. I wasn't anxious. I'd often feel anxious. But in the seat of the storyteller, I had found ease. And that’s just it: teaching yoga is story telling. Early yogis shared yoga philosophy as oral tales. Here I am, years later, in the context of my time, transmuting the teachings through my own interpretation. Throughout college, I led a variety of yoga formats to staff and students on campus. I expanded my audience at a local studio and a wellness and rehabilitation center. At the studio, I taught pranayama, meditation, and asana in community-based classes. At the wellness center, I taught gentle yoga, restorative yoga and meditation, chair yoga for those with a limited range of motion, and mindful movement for children. In all of these contexts, you quickly learn what you already know: every body is unique. Yes, I'm the teacher, but I'll remind you to listen for that distinctness in you. Then, for fun, we'll practice removing that layer of discernment and category, and I'll remind you to listen for that aliveness in you. And we'll be still. In every format, all these bodies would show up with souls and experiences and injuries and a ticker of thoughts. And I'd teach to all of them, hoping I could keep their attention on my offering, on their bodies and their thoughts, on their wisdom. Wondering if this particular pose had sparked in someone the same fire it had sparked in me. There, I see it in that person. I see it showing up in their physicality. I like to remind everyone, at different moments, in certain poses, that they've got all these layers. The fire is deep in our energy, in a layer called pranamaya. I can't see that fire travel outward on its way to a body's surface, but I witness its emanations in a person's fingertips, down the length of their spine, straight through their posture, and out their keen eyes. Their aliveness revealing itself. When I graduated college, I hopped on a plane, reunited with my yoga teacher and began a one-on-one 3-week intensive. She told me to make a list of all the things I wanted to expand on from our yoga lessons. I filled that page. We talked about death and consciousness. The power of "ohm," and the healing that happens when you hum it. Slow it down, draw it out. That kind of control processes cortisol. Mary owned three editions of the Yoga Sutra, and she had me read the first three sutras from each edition. I wrote them down and looked at them next to each other, in their sameness and differences. I observed the way each word's fullness made my brain feel. Now begins the practice of yoga (1.1). The ever now. Yoga won't stop. It will begin again and again. I once had a private student. We had been working together for about three weeks. I walked into her office. She worked above a hardware store with four other women. They all had their own desks, and her desk sat behind closed doors. I walked in, and she had a diffuser going. She had a satisfied smile on her face too, and she told me, "I'm less angry because of you. My daughter and I always fight, but last night, I didn't let it become a fight." She told me she would never stop practicing yoga; she could never go back. The insight was too honest. When the pandemic started, I stopped teaching. A natural pause, a chance to re-center and calibrate. I'm blessed it got to be this way. I'm privileged it got to be this way. When the pandemic kept going, I enrolled in a year-long online program called "Deconstruct to Reconstruct" with Alexandria Crow, and I'm still doing it. And that first manual I received from Mary - I'm still reading it, again and again. Sometimes my best days are lying on the floor for fifteen minutes (an hour?) with a block under my back giving slack to my psoas. Never been in a position more grounding. Never been so still. I surrender. To the practice, to the study - through direct experience, ancient text, and modern interpretation. So yeah, we can do that here. By collecting attention and putting it towards a forever now. https://www.collectingatha.com/offerings daily 1.0 2025-07-24 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/27fcb40b-7aa8-497e-9b0b-e1b3c2bd57cd/IMG_6631.jpg Offerings - ATHA (अथ) \ uhthaa \ - a particle used at the beginning (of works) mostly as a sign of auspiciousness and translated to ‘here’, ‘now' (begins) || pronunciation || https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/ab181d04-3c75-48fb-ac3f-ee905d11a0f9/IMG_6632.jpg Offerings https://www.collectingatha.com/offerings/yogaandmeditation monthly 0.5 2025-07-24 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/0b8a4c38-b816-4f16-b363-27ab59d3fbf5/IMG_6637.jpg Offerings - Yoga and Meditation - at your desk: FOR THE PROFESSIONAL, FOR THE CREATIVE curated techniques that release tension in the body in order to free up your mind physically and mentally counteract the deleterious effects of lengthy chair sits and screen-staring recharge, get focused, and find your flow state https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/62fade08-9881-4811-9c4b-027c766c0be8/IMG_6633.jpg Offerings - Yoga and Meditation - Now Begins the Practice of Yoga personalized lessons thoughtfully designed to create a buildable, consistent yoga practice for your body and mind https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/a291d099-9040-4aec-bb63-62e575eef00c/IMG_1578.JPG Offerings - Yoga and Meditation - and now, a brain game. A simple and straightforward method to incorporate meditation into your daily life: At least some of the time, Balance there in discipline and being, In productivity and play. Do the discipline first. Start with action. Literal action. Stand up. Walk over there. Walk back. Stand taller. Get lower. Spin. Jump. Jump again. Do the thing. Action inspires motivation. Zoning out and jelly brain is fine but like Do the discipline first because then Your brain is charged and more connected to your spine and Nervous system and consciousness, and so From there on out you’re driving a boat that has the best gas in it, And really When I say discipline I mean Honoring yourself deep enough to put meditation on your calendar, And check that baby off. Get that dopamine fix. You accomplisher you. Do it for a minute a day. A week in full. Then add another minute or 30 seconds more the next week. The discipline is putting willpower to action. Checks offs and consistency create motivation And then you can use your willpower elsewhere Because once you have it down, once it’s second nature, You free up the discipline, the willpower And you just are A meditator by nature. https://www.collectingatha.com/offerings/writing monthly 0.5 2024-02-21 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/bbd5ce12-4d08-4a03-9420-053ef5f56096/IMG_6636.jpg Offerings - Laurel Street Press https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/0c0a40ea-e2af-4fac-a07c-0ca2f22993ec/c%27est+funk+2.png Offerings - Laurel Street Press - artist bio: C’est Funk Where do you go in your head? Can you paint me a picture? Is there music? Does it move you? For João, there's always music. It's complexly part of the landscape, making any scene all the more sweet with richness and texture. Putting the medicine in the candy, he calls it. The medicine is the music, and it curates the experience, coats it in sugar. João is the curator. Queued, collected, present. All sounds orchestrated with ease and adding brilliance. Now we're all dancing. Growing up, João got lost in his head listening to the music. It meant something to him, much like it means something to you. At the time, there were songs that immersed him even though he didn't know the words. When he moved to New Orleans in 2014, he was 19, and he barely spoke English. But he had his inclinations: the music was enough. One evening, in some upscale venue, João found himself at a Samba show. The music rang with rhythms that ribboned layers over and over themselves, but everyone was sitting down, and it shocked him. Without dance, where is the liberation? Back home in Belo Horizonte, João lived, grooved in lush waterfalls, energizing music and tranquility. Brazil is saturated like that. You ever jump right into the water without thinking? The full body immersion is the magnificence. Back on land, you take with you rejuvenation. During that Samba show, João had an idea, and it took root in the rhythm or "batucada," emerging as Batucada Groove, an international dance party fueled by vinyl and culture. You'll hear the rhythms and beats behind Brazilian disco, Latin funk and worldwide house blend together in smooth transitions. You'll wonder where those notes are from that made you move in this way, and you'll ask João after the show. We dance first, and then we get interested in each other. Before you know it, you'll be across the world on your way to the jungle so that you too can swim in the waterfalls of Belo Horizonte. Connect with C'est Funk https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5ec321c2af33de48734cc929/1618497259178-6XJGK9GR6YAVBQL5L519/20140301_Trade-151_012-2.jpg Offerings - Laurel Street Press https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5ec321c2af33de48734cc929/1607694583486-2PQT0LQ193RL7MCB6DX4/20140228_Trade+151_0046.jpg Offerings - Laurel Street Press https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5ec321c2af33de48734cc929/1589847767761-J2M1HI20BXRQ9XCR0HUD/Large+JPG-Aro+Ha_0387.jpg Offerings - Laurel Street Press https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/bbd5ce12-4d08-4a03-9420-053ef5f56096/IMG_6636.jpg Offerings - Laurel Street Press https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/60a64538-3bf1-4292-8cbc-951ccaf81423/IMG_1486.JPG Offerings - Laurel Street Press https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/82710a6b-7220-4a9a-a9dc-14bd5deff6fb/IMG_6982.jpg Offerings - Laurel Street Press The high heat of day, the dry heat of day. That's when I let the sun in, by the river with the water on my toes. Mama knows. We're all in love, in the river, where it's rich and runs forever. Once, when I went in, with my head under the surface, I caught the sounds of stories found; they were lost in turf and spinning round. I gave my hand, an unwinding dance, and in return, I could float the earth forever. - "Write about a river and make it ethereal; include our Mother." https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/d7b55068-3d00-4a58-b1fc-5bb7064d70ff/IMG_1497.JPG Offerings - Laurel Street Press https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/7d819141-696a-4282-b204-bc1642b6a6bb/IMG_6981.jpg Offerings - Laurel Street Press Churning out stories like laundry; my hands know the details. Haven't washed my hat once, but I leave it in the sun. When I'm walking, when I'm washing - all before the first stars. When I'm out there, always churning, making music by the bars, by the bayou. I'll look you in the eyes. Man! God is showing up today. Have I got a tale for you. I'm out there, always churning, making music by the bars, by the bayou. - "Write about my friend who's a poet and musician in the Quarter." https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/5aaa4bd5-09a9-4adf-8ef6-357146756b5e/IMG_1494.JPG Offerings - Laurel Street Press https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/6311b6ca-25be-4a67-9eb1-94a14ad66433/IMG_6980.jpg Offerings - Laurel Street Press "I'll write when I wanna." You're resolute, and there's pages on the desk. All blank pages. It's a mess. Honey, you're stuck in the jar, and you just need a little heat. Honey's always flowing when it's warmer. We're softer now, our minds bending. And we'll tend to the pages, fill them with spaces, whatever rages; these words. "I'll write every morning to let honey flow." - "Write about writer's block." https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/ab4262ca-11ca-4beb-9b11-a84e9bba7018/Around+we+go+again.+This+time%2C+to+our+planet%27s+seismically-+active.png Offerings - Laurel Street Press https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/5ea256c8-713f-4738-8a3e-31e984f036b5/IMG_6979.jpg Offerings - Laurel Street Press Seated up high so I can see the world the way Momma does. Caught a ride around town, and she pedals. On my way to the water where the trees weep. They cry like me when I'm thirsty. Momma, we need you. - "Write about a baby on a bicycle." https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/6f37ca11-118a-478a-9c6b-fbc6e11fd645/IMG_6978.jpg Offerings - Laurel Street Press You can forget that angels float around you; they'll hang there in the wings. When you call on them again, they may play a few tricks to remind you of their wit. Stay open as they come and go. You'll know their presence when things start to flow and flowers grow. - "Write about angels." https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/33e8a65e-d322-408b-8922-17ed2bcb2297/IMG_1832.jpg Offerings - Laurel Street Press https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/1e84b968-c709-4262-a768-18e365686874/IMG_4780.JPG Offerings - Laurel Street Press The rain makes the mud, and I make the storm. Some people call me a fool because I'm not wearing rain boots. But bare is aware of the ground under there and the sand and the stone and the granules of dirt that get in my toes. It's my fool's journey: and I'm heading back home. - "Write about the fool." https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/d00c2f75-868d-410b-864e-cbd6e0d26ea3/71329418449__51D334C3-F20F-449F-BDD2-F4B7E2F1A45F.JPG Offerings - Laurel Street Press https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/75175929-98c9-4c6f-83e7-7d6bd3705a1c/IMG_4776.JPG Offerings - Laurel Street Press I could say I always knew, the way a love seat just knows it's meant to couple. The way a flower just knows it's meant to bloom. But I didn't know, and I'm not sure why I forgot, except that it feels so good to remember. And now, you're sitting next to me, and we're always flowering. And the knowing comes easy." - "Write about my woman. She's about to be my wife. We dated years ago. We broke up. I don't even know why, but one day, she just popped into my mind so I reached out to her again." https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/6b19c110-3cbc-4649-9ed6-049735a3838d/3A1AC8BD-E04F-472A-A700-FA28A1698F88.JPG Offerings - Laurel Street Press On my path, I walk with a rhythm that moves me forward and keeps me even. Less fear in each step. Suddenly, a rattle rings and all the fear that ever was comes rushing in and sends a flood. I've gotta pause or I'll forget everything. (1/2) - "Write whatever feels right." https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/621d264fe1514c5b649d7060/62c78182-3b21-4d28-a760-f59e0bda3229/84F04FF0-7EB8-4688-8201-5804CDF9E7AB.JPG Offerings - Laurel Street Press Remember, it isn't always easy, but to breathe out the fear might make a rare acquaintance. The rattlesnake and you. (2/2) - "Write whatever feels right."