What Is Yoga?

Up until now, yoga was a series of poses I did once or twice per week in a studio with a teacher. Sometimes it involved energetic music or hard-determined focus or bouts of misbalance or crescendoing violins moving me to tears in savasana. It was a mix of physical challenge and physical heaven. But no matter how my practice went, I always left feeling a level of emotional fulfillment I can rarely drum up during a mountain bike ride or a grueling run.

Photo by d. norwood

We've only been studying the philosophy behind yoga for a week now, but it's already changed my understanding of the term immensely. It's no longer just a fitness class at a gym. It's a lifestyle. A lifestyle rooted deeply in ancient texts, words, routines, and beliefs. Yoga, or "yoking," is the act of aligning oneself with the ideals that make up this ancient tradition. Those ideals include not only physical practice, but mindfulness of others, ourselves, and the planet; honesty, compassion, peacefulness, and acceptance of equality among living beings; quieting the mind during meditation; breathing prana, the vital life force that moves on the breath, into the body; finding the contentment in times of challenge; and becoming attuned to the natural world in a way that roots us, as humans, deeply in it in the same way that are ancestors were, regardless of modern society outside the door. The beautiful thing is that all of the above does live within each of us, we just have to call it forth.

The goal is to yoke, like an ox, to the above ideals until one is so centered within them that he or she is aligned with the eternal, or the greater power of the universe. I envision that enlightenment as returning to our natural state—a state that we, as mostly misaligned human beings, have trouble tapping into because it's buried so deeply in our subconscious. Living within the yogic tradition gives us the ability to reach within ourselves and unspool the threads of eternal bliss until, perhaps one day, we reach the actual spool.

"Yoking," while referring to the harness that keeps two working animals in line, also reminds me of the golden center of an egg. If the goal is to get back to the most natural state through alignment, than wouldn't an egg yolk be synonymous? It's pure, perfect as nature intended it to be, unable to get sidetracked as humans can be, nourishes, ignites growth, and is a natural center for life.

In class, a good yoga teacher has the ability to make his or her students recognize the eternal light that lives within each of us. And that's why we often leave feeling a little bit lighter, purer, more joyful. Yoga, for me, will continue to be a physical practice. I'll still waver in balance,  go deeper, bounce a little when Jay-Z's Empire State comes on and tear up after camel pose, but now I understand why. Because yoga is grounded in spirituality. Now I have the knowledge to embrace that side of it too. And, while a full yogic practice may not be for everyone, I'm grateful that it can continue to touch the hearts of students with pangs of fulfillment like crescendoing violins.

Well, hello there.

Hi there. It's me. Ali. It's been a few years since I've posted. After I launched my wedding planning business, Barnwood + Birch, I started a wedding-specific blog here. I coordinated a couple of gorgeous weddings, and then I got promoted at my full-time job (I'm an editor at a national magazine), and voila, all extra time went out the window.

But, now, I'm back. It's funny how, even when you don't blog, life moves full steam ahead.

The blogging bug has been creeping up inside me for a while and I finally found a good excuse to let it wriggle it's way out. I'm taking a 200-hour Vinyasa yoga teacher training at Body in Santa Fe, NM, and am feeling completely inspired to create, feel joy, savor each moment, and harness these feelings into a richer life.

In honor of keeping a regular blog, I decided Almost Crunchy needed a facelift. I hope you like it.

So, throughout my training I'll be blogging. Probably too much about yoga. But, I'll be blogging. And hopefully that will put me back into a regular routine of writing.

And seeing all of you more often. XOXO.

My secret double-life needs a logo

A secret: I'm launching a wedding planning business. Yes, I'm still an editor at the magazine I work for, but the land of prettiness and creativity and organizational bliss got the better of me. After my wedding, I couldn't let it all go. I wanted to fill my free time with it, but with a purpose (not just mindlessly sifting through wedding blogs as eye candy). So, now I'm helping other brides (and grooms) find their own mason jars full of chamomile and and pie bars littered with vintage cake stands.

But first: a logo. My company's name is Barnwood + Birch. I chose that name for several reasons: a) I like the alliteration, the way it sounds and looks; b) it evokes a kind of homey warmth, an intimacy that I hope to find at weddings; c) I love both of these woods: they're beautiful and create gorgeous details; and d) they're unique and make me think of one-of-a-kind, hand-crafted objects, nothing mass produced.

Keeping all of that in mind, which logo best suits my company or, simply, which is your fave and which color?

1)

2)


3)
4)
5)

This logo will be featured on my business cards, website (still to come) and contracts as well as any other stationary I end up needing. These designs were created by my dear friend Paper Jules.

So, which is your favorite and why?

Just Over a Year Later

Hi again. It's been too long. I'm embarrassed to admit I had to let this blog go when I got caught up in the whirlwind of wedding planning--and blogging about it. Almost Crunchy was never supposed to become wedding-centric which is why I skipped on over to Weddingbee.com (my thread), where I wrote three to five times per week for the entire past year. My favorite picture from our wedding?

Many more by the talented Tec Petaja here.

So, what have I come back to say? I'm not sure. But I do know that I want to find my voice here again. To write about things other than colors and dresses and whimsical decor items. I'm determined to find the deeper meaning in every day's interaction or adventure, even if it means mulling over simple matters until I find an underlying truth. I don't predict I'll find it always--I want it to be organic, not forced--but it's worth a try.

Before I get started, let's play catch-up: Ian and I got married in October of last year in a restore barn on a 5,000-acre ranch along the Continental Divide in Colorado with 60 or our nearest and dearest. From there, we set off for our honeymoon in New Zealand (not enough beach, nor cocktails). Now that we're back, we've moved into a place we're making our own. We're also training for a marathon this October (and I'm blogging about it here) and Ian's getting ready for a big show in Santa Fe with his paintings.

So, until I figure out something to say that has a purpose, let me point you to an insightful, sarcastic, and entertaining blogger, Caroline at The Half Truth of a Whole Life.

A Year in Santa Fe

One year. It's been nearly an entire year since I've returned to this blank field where words and letters can and will fill this empty space (when I want them to). I read an article this morning in which Gawker's Emily Gould explains her demise by blogging in The New York Times Magazine's Exposed, and whether it meant to or not, it made my brain and fingers stir again.

One year ago, when Ian and I trucked across country to find new shelter (physical and emotional) in Santa Fe, my aunt said to me, "I hope Santa Fe is good for your love." She is a spiritual one, mind you. I giggled it off, embarrassed by the sentiment (which she nearly always carries) but now I can only say it has been no less than "good for our love."

The sandy, rust-stained earth of Santa Fe has sprouted an entirely new era, mindset, definition in and of our lives. We no longer hole up inside a Brooklyn apartment on bleak, snowy days; We swoosh through the woods that tumble towards Santa Fe from behind the ski basin, thrilled at the powder that rushes at our faces and tingles our skin with cold. Summer is no longer for sweating in scummy subway stations; Instead we're charging through woodsy trails to waterfalls flowing strong after the snow's melt or jumping of brown, barren cliffs into lakes while our dogs bark from the water's edge.

We've turned a rental into a home, it's weed-strewn grounds now tilled into patches of tomatoes, basil, eggplants, and peppers. The steel wind mill across the streets whines in the wind and reminds us that we might not hear a siren or a cab's honk for weeks, maybe months. Instead, we hear mountain bikes whizzing by after a romp on the nearby trails or an occassional car kicking up dust and rocks (yes, we live on a dirt road!) on its way to the Audobon Center.

About three weeks ago, we returned from a two-week jaunt in Europe (something we'd been itching to do, but could never afford while in New York). I, in the French Alps, to write a story for Outside's GO, and Ian, to meet me in Italy after I finished. We ate risotto and zuppa, zipped around on a motorino, hiked through vineyards, and treasured the art.

But most importantly, while on Capri, we got engaged. It's hard for me to not smile about this--maybe because saying those words sounds so cliche and cheesy, but mostly because I am so excited. I find myself sifting through wedding venues, dresses, message boards, and blogs non-stop, dreaming up our humble celebration. I say humble because we've decided we want nothing more than a field on a lake or river, some grass, trees, and a huge barn for everyone to gather. If that doesn't convince you that Santa Fe has changed us, than I don't know what would.

My ring, a 60-year-old family heirloom, comes this week. And funny enough, it's originally from Brooklyn.

Image 1, 2, and 3 thanks to Ian Troxell.
Image 4 thanks to flickr-rickr according to this license.

New York to Santa Fe, The Ultimate Road Trip

One of my absolute favorite things to do is road trip. But not only the driving part, you see. I find incredible joy in plotting out every stop--finding the best places to pull off the road whether to eat, to rest, or just to contemplate my navel (as my massage-therapist aunt would say). You could say itineraries are my specialty.


I've taken on many a road in California, heading northeast to snowy mountain-town Mammoth, south to San Diego as it bathes in warmth, straight east through hours of barren desert to Vegas (with my fingers crossed that I'd hit the jackpot once I arrived!). But in all my travels on four wheels, I've only done one road trip that involved an overnight stop to my final destination. And yes, it was the inevitable Route 1 California coastal drive from Los Angeles to just north of San Francisco--Mill Valley, a historic, affluent town enshrouded in giant redwoods. Not to say it wasn't incredibly scenic and adventurous, it's just overplayed.

At the end of this month, my boyfriend Ian and I are taking on the Mother Trip--a 5-day road race from New York through the South and back up to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Aside from being well-traveled on the East and West Coasts, I've never ventured in to the middle of this country be it South, Middle, or North. So, we've been sure to include stops in New Orleans (just so happens to be during Jazz Fest!) and Austin, TX for some big, beefy BBQ.


Our start point? Ian's parent's barn-turned-house in tiny, farm town Oxford, New York. After a few days of decompression from New York City we'll be heading south to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park on the border of North Carolina and Tennessee. After camping amidst forest and waterfalls, we'll mosey on down to New Orleans for two nights in the French Quarter. And over to Austin, to Guadalupe Mountains National Park for another camping jaunt, and then up to adobe-laden Santa Fe, New Mexico where we'll be making our new home for the next six months (thanks to a new job at Outside Magazine!).

I've figured out where we will lay our heads for those five nights. Anyone have any suggestions of where we can snack along the way? I'm all ears.

[Image 1 thanks to Daniel Muriello according to this license.]
[Image 2 thanks to Ian Troxell, once again.]