Author Archives: Lyn Girdler

There is a girl in India

There is a young girl. She is about 12 years old though the age that sits behind her eyes is years beyond.  A minute in this girl’s life could probably equal a week in someone else’s. She has no shoes, at least she didn’t when I met her and she lives in the North West streets of Delhi. I don’t remember her name, though I am sure I asked and in her soft voice she told me. But, I no longer remember. She is slender and should grow to be tall.  She wears a traditional sari but it is faded and dirty; an emblem of national identity within a socialContinue Reading

River tubing in Colombia

    And we floated. I floated. And I wondered “how did I get here?” Along the banks of the river, the lush foliage of the tropics pulsed with life. Birds in flight, jumping fish, bamboo stalks stretching their lean bodies toward the river with a grace that reminded me what a privilege it is to grow. Local women washed their hair and did their laundry by the banks of the river while bare chested, lanky children swung from tree vines; meticulously timing the moment they would jump. A split second decision informed by a little experience and instinct, and then a squeal of adrenalin infused delight when they letContinue Reading

The memories that hold us

The memories that hold us

I’ve moved a lot lately. In the past four months I’ve moved homes three times, took myself on a three week cross-country road trip, moved my business into a new office/showroom space, set up shop and sold at a 4 day festival in Vermont and in between it all tried to keep a semblance of normality. All the while realizing it will all change again in a few months. As a result, I’ve been thinking a lot about attachments and memories and how we hold on, or not. In early March I moved out of the sweet little cottage that had held me safe for the past 18 months. ItContinue Reading

7 fascinating facts about Colombia

On July 12th I’ll be hosting a group of fascinating, adventurous and interesting peeps for my 3rd yoga & writing retreat. We are retreating in Santa Marta, Colombia. This is the first time I’ll be leading my retreat in Colombia and I’m anticipating and great time. Why Colombia? Because it’s gorgeous! I spent quite a bit of time in Colombia last year, mainly in Bogota and in San Augustin in the south and I knew, immediately, that I wanted to find a property to host an additional yoga retreat in that country. Colombia is raw in its natural beauty, rich in diversity and culture, and still on the fringe ofContinue Reading

Why I teach a yoga & writing retreat that really isn’t about yoga or writing. (Or, the yoga retreat for non-yogis and non-writers.)

“I’m not a therapist. This isn’t the place for your problems. This is the place to find story and joy….” This is the opening discussion at my week long yoga & writing retreats. Harsh? Maybe, but I’d like to think it’s more responsible, clear & honest. I do go on to point out that I am available to talk privately but I want to set the boundaries and be clear what the retreat is really all about. Because the truth is, I’m not a therapist. I’m a yoga teacher. I’ve done a lot of therapy, I’ve read a lot of books, I’ve immersed myself in the healing of my ownContinue Reading

10 profound benefits of going on a yoga retreat

10 profound benefits of going on a yoga retreat

  When I was organizing my first yoga and writing retreat in India, I kept thinking about my intention for it and returning to the experience I was hoping for, for my participants.  I had such a profound and rewarding experience on my first trip to India that I wanted to use that experience and turn it into an opportunity for others. I had never gone on a retreat myself but I knew the benefits of immersion.  I contemplated going on someone else’s retreat before undertaking the responsibility of running my own, just to see how someone had set theirs up but something deep inside stopped me from signing upContinue Reading

The secret life; Mandala’s in the sand

I’d gone for a long walk on the beach, as I had done every morning since arriving in India, turning the cogs around money and relationship.  “How can I grow my business?” “How can I feel more financially secure?” “Am I creating a business that people want?” “Am I offering something of value?”  “Should I end this dalliance with him?’ “This isn’t a relationship” “It’s a relationship” “Is this really what I want, or have I created another distraction to something more fulfilling and intimate?” “What should I do?” “Where should I go next?” I sat at a little beach restaurant and ordered a juice.  My mind blending and maceratingContinue Reading

The secret life; Platform goodbyes

I was at the helm of the cramming mass of people boarding the train from Kannur and their stubborn insistence to move forward, no matter who was in their way, knocked me about and into the body of one of my work hosts.  We were standing on the platform, about to part ways but the crowd was effective in making our goodbye as quick as possible.  We would have hugged goodbye regardless; a gesture as foreign to Indian people as the head bobble is to westerners, but now we were forced into an awkward and unprepared embrace.  It didn’t matter, we had become comfortable enough to understand the situation andContinue Reading

Time, India, and the way we move

I’m in Goa, India again.  It’s early morning (before 9am), the sun is wide awake and I’ve come back from  a long walk down the beach.  Early mornings here pull the biggest crowd of spiritual seekers, roaming dogs and running bulls (seriously).  Apart from the few exercise junkies, it mostly feels like the air is held afloat in contemplation and prayer in the mornings, mine included, as those who walk and meditate and headstand and chant and breath deep, sling our questions and attachments and bare asses (not mine ) into the quieter space that morning provides. There are times when I’m certain the message gets heard. And other timesContinue Reading

Buster the horse, and my big life lesson

When I was a young girl, I spent many weekends in country Victoria visiting my mothers’ relatives.  Along one highway lived quite a few family members and it often became a pilgrimage of food and family love; cups of tea and biscuits at one house, a few hours later we’d end up at the lake house for dinner and then in the morning we’d head off to another house for the rest of the weekend. One of my favorite stops was usually the first, to see my great aunt and second cousins, in a small country town called Seymour.  Welcoming our, often unexpected, arrival was usually a platter of sweetContinue Reading