Weirdness

So, this is the year of the horse in Chinese astrology, right? Big changes supposed to happen for lots of us. Very unpredictable energy, so we've got to just hang on. But I'm not feeling big changes - I'm just feeling weirdness.

Is weirdness a type of big change? Maybe.

Colden had his first all-day field trip today, down to an amusement park in Lake George. It's not a short ride - Lake George is a good 90 minutes from school. That's a long ride for a bus full of kindergarteners and first-graders.

And of course, the anxious mind in me starts freaking out: what if he gets hurt? What if there's an accident on the northway? What if, what if, what if?

Part of me wants to tether my little boy to my side for the rest of my natural life to keep him safe, but there's another part of me that wants to push him out, to encourage him to see the world in all of its beauty and diversity. I want him to understand that life is all about the experience, but at the same time, my Momma Bear instincts want to keep him close.

Then there was last night and my inability to fall asleep, despite the fact that I was absolutely exhausted. Believe me, I tried EVERYTHING, but I couldn't calm my racing heart enough or relax my body until well after 2:30 a.m.

At 5:30, I heard my husband calling me: "Jen! It's 5:30! Get up!"

I was torn between wanting to stay in bed, my head resting comfortably in the puddle of drool on my pillow, and wanting to get up and kill my husband.

I got up, but my husband is still alive. (Thankfully.)

This is just how it's been for me this year, how my life has been. Daily activities interrupted by strange curve balls and things over which I have absolutely no control, forcing me to find ways to work around them and still maintain a level head.

Now that I've taught this morning's yoga class and procured a container of incredible lunch-y goodness in the form of spanikopita from the local natural foods store, I am headed down for a quick nap before I go pick up the rugrat from school. I know he's going to be hot, cranky, covered in bug dope and sunscreen, and probably tired from the day's adventure. But at least I feel like whatever happens with him this afternoon, I can handle it.

Not a Happy Post

I woke up to some unexpected news this morning. My best friends' father passed away over the weekend. I've known these two since the 8th grade in Catholic school, when we had to wear those stupid uniforms with plaid skirts and synthetic-fiber vests and knee socks with ugly shoes.

It made me aware that there is a growing number of my schoolmates who are now part of the "one surviving parent" club.

This is the part where we watch our parents die.

My mom died 6 years ago this July. And I think there are times when the tragedy of her life is still too much for me to think about.

I wore a piece of her jewelry today, a quartz crystal wrapped in wire and hung from a chain. It gave me a small comfort, a connection, a tiny bit of hope.

And I feel completely helpless as I sit and watch my schoolmates and friends go through the same thing. Our parents are growing old and leaving us.

It's the normal order of things, of course, but that doesn't make it any easier.

Some of us will have to deal with estates, nursing homes, assisted living, hospice, attorneys... Because that's just how things work.

So as we sit and keep watch through these life transitions, I wonder: in our 40-odd years on this planet, what have we learned? Have we learned anything at all, really?

What are we doing for our kids? What are we leaving for them?

What kind of experience are they going to have when it's their turn to watch us die?

I can't say that I've known this all along, but what I know to be true tonight is that all we have is this moment.

This breath.

These eyes.

This soul.

And nothing else...none of it...really matters, anyway. All that we have, truly, is this.

This.

And I was lucky enough tonight to have a safe place to go to sit with all of this that was swirling through the chaos of my mind, a place where I could go and let the tears come along with the fear and the other hard stuff. I had a place where I could go and just let it all go.

We identify so much with our parents. We feel as though they will be there forever, because they have been there forever, right? So when they just suddenly...disappear...what's left?

Just this.

The Mirror

Yesterday, I started teaching a new yoga class - all on my own, outside of the studio in Keene where I like to teach. It was this lovely little arts theater that's literally a five minute walk down the hill from my house.

The last time I was there, the upstairs space in this theater wasn't "finished", and they were using it as a room for art workshops. This time, it was apparent that the arts organization that owns the theater had made improvements and turned it into a dance studio, complete with bars along the walls, and - ugh - mirrors.

Right before I got pregnant with Colden, I did bellydance with a friend once a week, and it was great fun. And I really didn't mind looking in the mirrors. Usually, I was so focused on trying to make my body move the right way that what I saw in the mirror didn't bother me.

But then I was pregnant and had an 11 lb. 2 oz. baby and a c-section and my body just changed. Every inch of it, inside and out, was not the same as it was before. And we all know how easy it is to deal with change, right?

One of the things about yoga is that I love how it's all about the way you FEEL, and not so much about the way you look. I can't stand hot yoga or Bikram that's done in front of mirrors. For me, anyway, it's just so distracting to look into the mirror when I'm trying to focus on my breath and keep my eyes closed and find stillness all at the same time.

So I kinda freaked out when I saw the damn mirrors in this space. Ugh. I was worried that the students for this class would freak out, too, so I tried my best to keep us facing AWAY from the mirrors.

About 3/4 of the way through class, while demonstrating a standing pose, it happened. I caught sight of myself in the mirror, and I totally freaked out. All I could see was belly and butt - and they were huge! Enormous! Nothing at all like what I imagine I look like when I close my eyes and settle in to a pose.

When I'm practicing at any one of my other favorite studios, I don't have to worry about what I look like. I make the adjustments to my body as I feel them, I close my eyes, I come back to the sound and rhythm of my breath, and I FEEL my poses.

In my mind, I feel strong. I feel light.

I looked neither strong nor light when I looked at myself in the mirror that day.

I tried to laugh it off - ha ha!, I said. I said this was a good time to close your eyes and turn your attention inward so you wouldn't have to look in the mirror.

But I was surprised at what came up out of me, all the negativity, and the discontent, bordering on hate for my body.

Where the hell did THAT come from, I wondered.

Here I am, thinking that I'm so comfortable in my own skin for the first time in ages that I can swear SPANDEX! (Didja happen to catch the flying pigs that day when I wiggled into my first pair of Spandex yoga leggings?) I haven't been obsessed with my weight or with my clothing size or any of that crap. I felt graceful and light and strong, and...

All of that flew out the window when I saw myself leading that class.

I thought about maybe bringing sheets with me for the next time we have class there, so I can cover up the mirrors.

But, no. On second thought, this is going to be my practice from now on. If I'm going to be okay with how I look, it means that I have to be okay with what I think when I look at myself. I need to look at myself - on so many levels - and change that dialogue.

So, the mirrors stay. Uncovered. And we'll see what they uncover next.

I Hate Yoga

Yep, that's right. I hate yoga.

It's an uneasy sort of night. Something doesn't feel right in my body, in my mind. My spirit is unsatisfied. Nothing feels right or good.

I have harsh words for myself as I choose my clothes for the day. Do you really need all this crap? Why the hell did you spend your money on that?

I drive to the yoga studio, but there isn't any music that can soothe me. The notes coming from the speakers in the car sound like broken glass scratching across my mind and in my chest.

In the studio, I unroll my mat. I sit in easy pose, hands resting on my thighs. I follow my breath, the inhale and the exhale.

What the hell am I doing this for? Do I really need to be here? I don't need to be here. I should be at home doing the dishes or cleaning up the endless piles of stuff that get taken out and not put away every day or taking Colden to the park or cooking or cleaning the refrigerator.

My arms move up and down. I'm pissed at myself. Pissed at all my shortcomings as a human being. I'm a terrible person. I shouldn't be here. Why the hell did I think I could be a yoga teacher? Wasn't that whole thing a big waste of time?

I tip my hips back into down dog, and it shoots into my brain, right before my closed eyes: I. Hate. Yoga.

I really do. I hate it. At this second, I'm intensely aware of every single character flaw, everything that my body is not capable of, everything that I should be doing instead of trying to make my body move into these strange positions.

I hate the way yoga makes me aware of what's not working in my life, because then it begs me to answer the question: What do I need to change?

I hate the way that yoga makes me understand that my discontent in this moment is coming just from me, and not from anyone else.

I hate the way yoga makes me ache for connection with other human beings, other people who may or may not be struggling the same way I am.

My brain is snarling at me, snapping like a terrified dog backed into a corner.

And then...and then...

There's the release. Just when I think I can't take anymore, when my stomach and my brain and my heart are stretched to their limits, everything just busts wide open, and...

Everything is fine.

YogAlign: The Anti-Yoga?

A huge part of being a yoga teacher, of being a good yoga teacher, is staying open to new information about this ever-evolving practice. So when Michealle Edwards, the creator of the YogAlign method of yoga came to my local yoga studio, I signed right up to see what she had to say about yoga and posture.

I read through her website in the week before she came to the studio, and noticed that she uses William Broad's notorious book, The Science of Yoga, as an example of how "dangerous" yoga is. (Cue interior cringing. There's a lot wrong with that book and it's distorted presentation of asana practice.) Her website promises that her method will result in "pain free" yoga, which to me, seems kind of odd - I've always believed that all yoga should be pain free.

So, more on that later, but the day of the workshop, she had all of us take before and after pictures so that we could see if there was any shift in our posture after working with her methods throughout the morning. She taught us a couple of breathing exercises to make us aware of what muscles are moving in the body every time we take a breath.

Michaelle guided us through a series of movements meant to create body awareness and stabilize our posture. I definitely noticed a difference in how my body felt before and after we did each side. When we did some upper body work, I noticed that after completing a range of movements on my right side, my right arm was most definitely about an inch longer than my left. (The left arm evened up nicely after I repeated the movements on that side!)

First, I completely agree with Michaelle that posture is a huge problem for a whopping majority of people these days, even among practitioners and teachers of yoga. We've (de?) evolved into a society of mostly desk-sitters, and our bodies are slumping forward as the result of poorly designed chairs and desks from where we sit all day.

I also agree with her that yoga should not hurt, and that asanas should most definitely be modified to create a sense of ease and stillness.

I don't agree that the practice of asana is inherently "dangerous". Speaking as someone who hurt herself a whole lot (read: weekly) when I got serious about a daily asana practice 18 months ago, I've learned that a huge part of asana is meant to bring your awareness into your own body. How many years have we all spent rushing through life in this body without giving any thought to how it feels or what it wants? It's probably the hardest part of asana practice for many of us: learning how to tune in to our bodies and what they really want after all these years, and learning how to treat ourselves gently. That doesn't necessarily make the practice of asana dangerous - it just means that we have to pay attention to how and what we're practicing.

And how is our body really "meant" to move, anyway? I think a huge part of the practice of asana in yoga is to develop the strength and flexibility to get into some of these poses, while, of course, being gentle to yourself while you're doing it. Michaelle asserts that the human body was never "meant" to be in positions like staff pose (sitting on the floor with the legs stretched out in front, feet flexed).

But from my beading studies, I know that this is how the Ndebele tribe of South Africa sit for extended periods of time while doing their beadwork. Is this somehow unnatural?

Ndebele woman doing traditional beadwork in seated position very similar to staff pose

No, we don't often walk with our knees locked stiff and straight, nor do we walk with our pelvic floor tightened and engaged, nor do we sit like, well, the Ndebele tribe does on a regular basis. But that's not the point of asana in yoga - at least, not as I understand it. 

My last question, and one that was asked by more than a few people at the workshop, was that if Michaelle thinks that other forms of yoga are so "dangerous", why is she marketing her workshops to yoga teachers and yoga studios? Why is she even using "yoga" in the name of her method?

Now, before you get the wrong idea, I took away a lot of valuable information from this workshop. First and foremost was a reinforcement of my belief that too much flexibility without strength can be a liability in asana practice, and people who just stretch mindlessly without full awareness can indeed injure themselves pretty seriously.

Something else very interesting that Michaelle talked about was resetting our muscle memory, which is what I heard about when I took a short positional therapy workshop last month at Kripalu. Muscles that are too tight can cause lots of pain and lots of problems, and the idea behind positional therapy (much like Michaelle's YogAlign method) is that allowing certain muscles to relax back into their natural configurations, you can relieve things like chronic back pain and muscular tension headaches.

I intend to immerse myself in Michaelle's book to learn more about her methods and the reasoning behind them, but for now, I'm going to continue to practice certain asanas with the support of props like blankets and modifications like bent knees.

Last lesson behind all of this? Staying open to new information from alternative viewpoints can sometimes lead to a reinforcement of your current beliefs! Don't be afraid to hear what others have to say, even if it's not totally in agreement with what you already think you "know"!

Finding Strength In the Small

So yesterday morning after Colden was packed off to school, I rolled out my mat before I did anything else, and I put myself through a vigorous asana practice. I did my Sun Salutations, went through a nice vinyasa flow using my favorite standing poses, and then did a few seated poses to cool down.

A thought kept popping back into my mind as I went through my flow. When I was at the studio for practice yesterday morning, Robin said to me, "Look at your biceps! Oh my God!"

Yeah, after 18 months of near-daily Sun Salutations, I have itty bitty biceps on my itty bitty arms. My body has definitely changed - I'm more flexible, stronger, and leaner than I was 18 months ago. My size 12 jeans have been replaced by sizes 8 and 6, if you can believe that. And all I did was yoga. I do not lift weights. I do not run. I do not do "cardio" (except for a vigorous Ashtanga practice now and then), and I don't go to the gym to "work out". I just do yoga.

And it's not like I'm doing any of the really big, flashy asanas, here. No headstands for me. I can only do shoulder stand if I'm using a bolster or a stack of blankets about 6" high. I can't do plow, or wheel, or any of those crazy back bends. (At least, not yet.)

But think about it: if you stand in Warrior II with your arms outstretched, what are you doing? You're working those muscles. You're breathing deeply, moving oxygen and red blood cells through your body. You're standing still, yes, but you're WORKING.

It's not a big movement to stand in mountain pose with your arms stretched overhead. But if you do it every day, what happens? Eventually, you get strong. Your legs get strong - your bones get strong from weight bearing, your muscles engage and get used. Your shoulders loosen up, your arms get long and lean.

When I  move through Chaturanga, the yoga push-up move that's a part of every Sun Salutation, I still can't move right from plank and lower down to the mat without dropping my knees first. I just don't have the strength in my core.

Yet.

But practicing all those Chaturangas with my knees bent has paid off - I have biceps! 

Don't be afraid to start small. If you're looking to start a yoga practice, don't be afraid to walk into a beginner class and learn the basics. Don't tell yourself that just because you need to modify a pose that you're practice isn't as "good" as someone who doesn't need a prop or a modification.

Yoga is not about a competition. It's about working on YOURSELF. It's about checking in with YOU. Treating yourself gently makes you stronger, not weaker.

Have you ever just spent an entire yoga practice sitting in easy pose or child's pose? That's a powerful move, right there. Do you have the strength to sit with your thoughts and your breath for a full 75 minutes? I encourage you to try it one day, and experience it for yourself.

Sure, one day I might have the core strength and strength in my shoulders to get into head stand and shoulder stand. But for now, I'll keep practicing my small moves, and enjoy those biceps of mine.

For the Record.

For the record: I do not like this culture of "more, faster, better" that seems to be all around us. We're told to want more, want it faster, and want it to be better than before. But to what end? What if - what if? - we all took an hour every day to do absolutely nothing? What if we took an hour a day to just be with our families, our friends, ourselves? What if we took an hour a day to check in with ourselves and find out what's working and what's not in our lives? What if we took an hour a day to just look at the sky and daydream? What if we told ourselves that we have enough, that we are enough?

I do not like the way we rush our kids off to school, the way we rush ourselves off to work. I do not like the feeling that we have to cram as much as we can into every second of every day, or else we're not "productive".

The world must have a balance of hard and soft, of dark and light, of movement and rest. And because we are so very much a part of this world, we must also find this kind of balance in ourselves and in our lives.