Jessica Jenkins personal Yoga Instruction

trust

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I recently made the HUGE decision to leave my job as a waitress to pursue teaching yoga, photography and whatever else comes.
50% plan, 50% open to possibility.
I didn’t wake up and decide one day; it’s been a series of leaps every day for the past year and a lot of confusion and tears and time and late nights and early mornings and soul searching and asking and receiving.
A few key stars aligned to signal it was time, but when I got to the decision point, I found myself totally doubting myself. Sometime around the twelfth sleepless night, I realized that I had made this decision and I’d had better TRUST.
It’s scary.
It’s BIG.
It’s empowering.

At 40, I am realizing that what’s scarier, is not listening to your heart. Not following your dream. Feeding your fears.

I’m kind of a late bloomer. But better late than never.

JJ

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true yoga

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“True yoga is not about the shape of your body, but the shape of your life. Yoga is not to be performed; yoga is to be lived. Yoga doesn’t care about what you have been; yoga cares about the person you are becoming. Yoga is designed for a vast and profound purpose, and for it to be truly called yoga, its essence must be embodied.”

— Aadil Palkhivala

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my buddha covered in fur

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An ode to my dog, Chili, who today turned THIRTEEN.
 
Cloudy-eyed. Gray muzzled. A bit grouchy. Graceless gate. Hard of hearing. Clumsy. Yet, remains totally grateful. Loyal.
 
Chili is eccentric. A bit off plumb. Not overly-cuddly. Sometimes he’s even aloof. I know that he knows that I know he’s growing old. He’s becoming vulnerable and offering limitless trust. He will grumble as I hoist him up in to the truck, but then look at me knowingly that I’ve helped him along.
 
Sometimes he’ll still join in with Ollie on the hunt for bunnies. His eyes alight, tail a-twtich. Bloodlust eyes. Other times, he’ll stay along the trail with me and trod along, listening intently to Ollie’s barks as he follow’s the bunny trails, as he has done so many time’s before.
 
Kafka wrote that the meaning of life is that it ends.
Among animals, only humans are said to be self-aware enough to comprehend the passage of time and the grim truth of mortality.
 
I have come to believe that as they age, dogs comprehend the passage of time, and, if not the inevitability of death, certainly the relentlessness of the onset of their frailties. They understand that what’s gone is gone.
 
“When we watch a dog progress from puppy­hood to old age, we are watching our own lives in microcosm. Our dogs become old, frail, crotchety, and vulnerable, just as Grandma did, just as we surely will, come the day. When we grieve for them, we grieve for ourselves.” – unknown

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