How I Got Here, I am Not Quite Sure.

The YogaFarm: our home, retreat center, and manifestation of the country life both my husband and I have come from in our youth and have returned to in our adult lives.

The YogaFarm: our home, retreat center, and manifestation of the country life both my husband and I have come from in our youth and have returned to in our adult lives.

I am one of the few, (crazy few, some might add), who gave up a hip city dwelling and traded it for a house near the end of a gravel road where there is no cell service nor reliable internet.  I traded regular manicures for manure piles.  I traded my local farmer's market for, well, a farm.  And I traded the sound of concerts in the park overlooking the Willamette River and city scape for a creek right outside our bedroom window, and a night sky that feels as though it lowers itself to my nose when I raise my chin at night.

I grew up on 80 acres in rural Minnesota with my dad calling "Come BOSSSS" to get the cows to come back to the barn to eat.  We had two pigs:  one named Grunt, the other Groan.  We had old cars in our driveway, and an ice-fish house parked off to the side.  Our garage was packed full of random stuff we might need some day, and the trash cans got knocked over most nights by a racoon family, and our dogs smelled of farm.  I wore plain pocket jeans, made by JC Penny, to school because they were durable and inexpensive.  And I remember we had turquoise carpet in our kitchen (except for the spot in front of the stove where my mom burned the floor with an oil fire while making popcorn -- could have been much worse than that).

Just another, regular Saturday morning.  My dad prepping the fishing boat for a summer season on the lake.

Just another, regular Saturday morning.  My dad prepping the fishing boat for a summer season on the lake.

The memories go on and on.  Some sweet.  Some not so.  But all part of what has brought me here today.  And how I got here, exactly, on this farm with manure to muck, mason bees to manage, a garden to weed (and then some), canned goods lining the shelves of the shed, and more clothes not suitable for the city than not, leaves me grateful, and not surprisingly, very grounded.

I don't have any big message for you today.  Not really. Just to love the life you have.  Love the life you've chosen (because what you have, like it or not, has come about because you ordered it -- one moment, conscious or unconscious, at a time).  Be IN it and not of it.  Fully embrace what you've got to do everyday as a blessing and an exercise in character building and celebrate who you find at the end of tasks you might not have chosen or a role you'd rather not be playing. 

 

Everything is service if you let it be.

Everything is spiritual if you're willing to breathe through it. 

And everything is enough.  As. Is. 

 

Good day to you Dear One.  Onward.  Inward.  And rise on UP.

Namaste,

Britt

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Bio:  Britt is described as a thought leader, love preacher, truth seeker, and yoga teacher.  She is the author of Pilgrim:  Live Your Yoga Every Single Day and is a guiding light in the yoga & ayurveda worlds, dedicated to bringing their powerful & simple teachings to the forefront of life today.  She works with students and teachers alike to discover the hidden depths of yoga and to bring these potent teachings into day to day life. Britt lives with her husband at Deva Daaru YogaFarm, an hour outside Portland, Oregon where she lives her yoga, shares her teachings through online programs, facilitates yoga teacher trainings, and hosts Live Your Yoga events & Daycations.   Follow Britt on Facebook,  Twitter, & Instagram

Britt B Steele

Britt B Steele, USA