September: Coming As We Are

The other night, I had dinner with my godson and his parents, dear friends of mine. The evening brought me back to the Septembers when my daughter was still in school.

La Rentrée: The Season of Starting Over

Going back to school — la rentrée — is a very particular time of year. It smells of unopened books, new shoes, and blisters. It smells of shampoo and starting over, of moving up a grade, a notch.

After the long summer holidays comes the slightly frightening thrill of going back. Yes, yes. We look at one another. We observe one another. A new haircut. A few inches taller, thinner, stronger. Maybe a little more awkward, even self-conscious, or suddenly much more confident. And then we push open a new door onto the unexpected.

What will the future bring? And who will I be on the other side?

Sometimes, it's not at all what we imagined.

Snow in April: Meeting Change as It Comes

I've lived on a small French island for a long time — Saint Barth, to be exact. When we enrolled my daughter in junior high, it meant moving. Like many other island families, we chose Montreal.

We didn't know that winters like that could even exist. That winter of 2008 was terrible. I would remember it.

And then, one day toward the end of April, it was over. We had survived. Everyone felt victorious — punchy, a little giddy.

Just when people were setting up their terraces with lawn chairs and pulling beautiful dresses and Hawaiian shirts from the backs of their closets, it snowed.

Not much. A few inches. But enough to sting our faces. After all the promises of spring, warm temperatures, and sandals instead of winter boots, the snow was devastating.

It was the adults, not the children, who took it hardest.

The children shrugged, reassessed, and responded. They adapted. They put on their coats, zipped up, and went to school.

The adults had made plans and projections, now suddenly dashed. I heard curses mumbled despondently, sighs suspended like frost in the cold air. Were they really mourning the unexpected weather — or was it the exhaustion of having fought one battle too many?

The Low Season at Selva

That was a long time ago. Today, instead of walking through snow in April, I walk on sand in September.

While the technical crew is busy sprucing up Hôtel Manapany for the new season, which starts on November 4, I am doing backbends and writing. The low season is ideal for giving birth to new dreams and preparing the new season at Selva Studio.

A sea-green eye looks back at me from her liquid lair. I am captivated by her watery surface — sometimes smooth and gentle, other times agitated and choppy. I listen to her heartbeat as I listen to my own.

The seasons change. The weather changes. The body changes. The ocean is never the same twice. Just like the mind, always in motion.

To meet these changes with equanimity: this is the practice.

For me, Selva Studio is, in every way, a dream come true. To be in such a wonderful, peaceful, oceanfront space, to open the door and step into its soothing stillness, and to create a place devoted to well-being at Hôtel Manapany: it is pretty magical.

Here, I pay tribute to all my teachers by passing on what they gave me. I strive to be the kind of teacher who makes you want to love learning, who inspires you, and who opens your mind and heart to new possibilities.

There is a pride that emerges from sharpening a skill, a satisfaction in becoming better at something.

A Practice Thousands of Years Old, Practiced Only Now

In yoga, skills are measured by an increasing ability to observe: to anchor our attention in the present moment and allow awareness to move through us.

Then the body begins to move and the breath flows in and out.

The breath is like the chant of the ocean — ancient and immediate.

Like the practice of yoga: thousands of years old, and yet always practiced in the present, always here and now.

What the Forest Taught Me About Belonging

One of the things I learned in the selva, the Amazonian forest this studio is named after, is this sense of belonging. The jungle is a community of astonishing diversity, and every plant, every animal, every being has a role to play, a reason for being.

Our cells are communities, too. Our practice brings us directly into contact with these visible and invisible communities within us.

Sometimes they get along. Sometimes they are at odds, at war, or asleep. But through the constant magic of homeostasis — the body's capacity to adapt, adjust, and reframe — we find our way back to a relative state of balance, thanks to this vital intelligence.

Whether the sea is agitated or calm, whether it rains, snows, or the sun beats down, whether we are happy today and dispirited tomorrow, we human beings continually move beyond our mistakes, our missteps, and our falls.

Like children learning to walk after a thousand attempts and countless hours, we find our balance again. And it takes a lot — a lot — of practice.

Come As You Are

None of us arrives on the mat as only one person.

We come with our DNA, our ancestors, our old books, and our dog-eared stories. We come with all our former selves — all the parts of us that get along, and all those that have not yet emerged from the fog.

We come with the new stories we have yet to write.

As you move through the corridors of your own life, what do you see? Who have you become? How are you evolving in this moment?

How do you belong to yourself?

How do you serve the world?

Selva Studio is conceived in the image of the jungle: a place where everyone belongs, and where the judgment you hold against yourself will not be used against you.

I come, you come, we all come as we are. And it is with this self, exactly as it is, that we compose our lives.

Through the practice of observing and being present, as at school, we grow and make friends.

So I invite you to take the step. Add your pencil mark to the door. I promise you will be surprised by how much you can still learn and become.

Explore our yoga and meditation classes or get in touch to book a session.

On September 25, Selva will take a small break. Dianita is going to the Galápagos. Reopening October 25.

See you soon!