ami's off the mat

Shiny Red Shoes & Contentment

2011-06-15T23:00:00.000-05:00

I sometimes like to read a chapter in the book Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes before I go to bed. It inevitably leads to fascinating dreams. So, this past week I read the myth of the girl and the red shoes.

The young woman in the story is poor and living alone in the forest without shoes (and obviously no yoga mat). She figures out a way to piece together enough material to create a pair of red cloth shoes. She is very content with these shoes, in fact, she was happy with them. One day she was out walking in a forest (forests are always involved) and an elderly lady came up in a beautiful carriage (carriages are also always involved) and offered to support and care for her. The woman with the red shoes accepted the invitation.

Shortly after her arrival, the elderly lady got rid of the red shoes. The young woman was devastated., feeling as though she had lost a piece of herself. A variety of events followed, including the young woman getting and wearing a pair of shiny red shoes (all against the wishes of the elderly lady and of the other community members). The young woman was so fascinated with these shiny new shoes she thought about them all the time. She was forbidden to wear the red shoes and they were hidden away.

Eventually, she found a way to get the red shoes and put them on her feet. To her dismay, the red shoes began to dance her around. She lost control to the shoes and she couldn't stop dancing. This dancing went on for so long she couldn't stand it anymore. Her only option was to get her feet cut off. No kidding. Off they went.

I'll spare you the details of my dream the night I read the story and we don't have time to go into the symbolism around standing on your own two feet, of independence, women's issues, etc. However, those stinkin red shoes have been on my mind every since reading the myth.

You may or may not know in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, contentment is one of the five principles leading to a happier existence. In Sanskrit the word for contentment is Santosha. Just in case your curious, the other four principles are purity, self-discipline, self-study and devotion to some presence bigger than yourself. I'm not sure when shiny red shoes were first invented, but I'm guessing it was after the compilation of the 196 aphorisms that make up the Sutras.

How often are we lured in by the proverbial shiny red shoes? What are the shiny red shoes in your life? Are your "shoes" a new house, a new job, a new partner, a more challenging yoga pose, a new body, a new feeling? Do we decide to be content? Aren't we suppose to always strive for bigger, better and get more, more, more? I think the girl without her feet would have been happier if she had stuck with the red cloth shoes.

Historically, yogis were schooled in philosophy before asana (postures). However, that mode of operation wouldn't likely work here in the west. In the west, we approach yoga from the physical first which inevitably leads to the philosophy or spiritual side of the practice. If we want to weave yoga philosophy into our lives on and off our mats, we could start to observe the principle of contentment. We could become more content with the pain that comes from "yoga butt' (an ouchy pain in the booty that is not that uncommon), or the extra ten pounds that might be inhibiting us from binding in a posture or the realization that no matter how many years we practice~ it is possible for some people to continue to feel like a 2x4 when they wake up in the morning.

In other words, we can be content with where we are right now & how we are right now. It's even possible to be content with change. May we all take a moment to reflect on our "red shoes."

Choose This NOT That

2011-05-14T16:09:00.001-05:00

A week or so ago, Vince and I were visiting my parents in sunny, hot Arizona. I took my mat in hope of having the opportunity to find a class or just spend some time to practice when not sleeping in or relaxing at the pool. I was fortunate enough to find a class that fit in our pool schedule. We started on our backs with eyes closed. The teacher said "today allow yourself to focus on what feels good & focus on what you are able to do in your practice. You get to choose where your attention goes." Ohhhh yeah, now I remember, I can choose to suffer or not suffer. Seems too good to be true.

Since that class I have been focusing my attention on choice. The examples of how this plays out are endless so I'll just throw out a few. Today, in the car with Vince I said "hey, I want to know if you think I should be offended by what so & so said to me Friday after the meeting." Then, wowza, I caught myself and began to laugh. Why would I choose to be offended? If i choose offended i will suffer (probably so would she) and if I choose not to suffer, we are both happy. Just last week I rolled out of bed at some obscene hour to get up and travel to an out of town meeting. As I was lying in bed I heard what apperared to be an owlebration (celebrating owls) in our front yard. Ohhh, choice between feeling sorry for myself that I had to get up and Vince got to sleep in or on how amazing it is that we have so many owls singing on our street. Last month, I tried a pair of pants on and they were a little snug (I'm being gentle on myself here) I could choose to focus on the snug or I could focus on how I have been doing better at getting some cardio in even amidst a pretty jampacked schedule. As I have been writing this I have the opportunity to choose whether to focus on the birds singing or I could focus on the hideous 1980's rock music blaring out of a neighbors garage. Is it starting to be obvious which is going to lead to suffering? That was an easy one...obvi the 1980's headbanger music is one definition of suffering.

This could come across as being about focusing on the positive. However, what I'm trying to convey here is that in each moment we get to decide where we are going to put our attention. Is it going to be on suffering or peace? Is it going to be on this? or on that?

You choose, I'm going to practice choosing this peace, not that suffering.
Ami

Add Love to the Task-List

2011-05-14T15:47:00.002-05:00

It’s rainy and dreary and I’m working and getting ready to study for a class I’m taking. Although I swore to one of my favorite friends and co-workers (see pic) that I would stop saying I’m so behind….I’m sooooooooooooooooooooo behind. I spent some time last night trying to organize my life into a calendar and a task list. It looks very pretty. I’m guessing it won’t feel pretty. It’s the first time I have included yoga, meditation, exercise and writing into my daily task list. I put them each there, every day, some of them with a completion time of ten minutes.

I realize that years ago (maybe even now), people would have thought it was insane to need to schedule in your personal time. However, with my current schedule, I believe it’s this structure that will remind me minutes on my yoga mat count just as much as answering the 136 emails waiting to be returned in my inbox. There is a great line in one of the Mumford & Sons songs that says “where you put your love- is where you put your life.” I guess you could say I’m adding my love to the task list.

I hope you will join me and put something you love on your list.

Ami

Mantra for 2011: No-Self Help

2011-01-04T00:30:00.003-06:00

If you have read any of my previous posts on new year's resolutions, you allready know I don't recommend them. This year I'm going to adopt a mantra (is that a resolution?). The mantra is no-self help.

I am going to use this mantra to stop focusing on what I don't do well, stop pushing myself to always get better at things I stink at and stop spending time trying to be something I am not.

I do alot of trainings for school people for my day job. I am typically the type of person who makes a point to glance at the evalutions for feedback. The feedback can be useful for changing or adapting something I'm doing and it can be really useful for beating up on myself. Typically, I try to make the review of the evals quick. I don't want people to think that I think too much of the feedback...that seems uncool in my world. After faking disinterest, I would read the evals and then ruminate over the ones that weren't glowing. There could be 50 outstanding evals and 1 not-so-great eval and I would put all of my focus on the one that is not-so-great.

I recently did a training for 45 people within the Quincy school district and sat down after the training to look at the evaluations. Since my new mantra is no-self help, I no longer have to believe I need to "get better" at not caring about people's feedback. So, I sat down and lingered over the information. Forty some excellents, a few goods and one fair. As mentioned above, historically, I put my focus on the yuck, or percieved yuck. ( What? good? one fair? Why not excellent? What could I have done differently, what didn't they like about me, what could I do tommorrow to......). Can you say exhausting? A person could lose alot of their life focusing on that 1%. Why on earth would a person focus on the 1% ick and not the 99% wonderful? Do we like feeling horrible?

I just started reading the book The 4 Hour Work Week ( a girl can dream). I interpreted some of what I read as a suggestion to stop spending time trying to get better at the stuff I'm not so good at and instead, focus on & grow what I am allready good at... WHAT? If I'm not spending my time trying to be better at certain parts of my job, better at organization, better at balancing out work and the rest of my life, better at writing thank you notes, better at eating a healthy diet when I am traveling for work, better at... The list could go on and on. If I stop trying to be better, won't my pants get to tight as I have milkshakes at every meal when I'm on the road and be content with the house being trashed and just give up on finding balance?

I think (please remember I just started the book) the author is suggesting if I drop all of the self-help and focus on my strengths, I will be happier and more satisfied. If I'm focusing on my strengths, experiencing that sense of contentment and peace then I believe I will naturally want to eat a healthy diet, keep my living space clean and organized and naturally find a place of balance between work and the rest of life. Instead of doing things because I believe I need to get better at them, I'm going to recognize what I am good at and let that guide me.

It could rock a person's world to think that we could drop the entire self-help movement. If this turns out to be accurate, I know a place where you can buy some self-help books at a very reduced price.

Here's to all of your wonderfulness-just as you are!

Ami

Turkey, Tofu & Brain Surgery

2010-11-29T21:17:00.002-06:00

Thanksgiving is a time that I am able to view the juxtaposition of events in previous Novembers. Thanksgiving always brings to mind the crazy cooking adventures I have had around the holidays. For instance, shortly after Vince and I got married I made a “tofurkey” from scratch. Think mushy tofu molded into the shape of a giant turkey, put on a pan and cooked. Now imagine it somehow being so heavy once it was cooked that I had to have Vince take it out of the oven. Or, there was the first time Vince and I hosted Thanksgiving for my family, Vince’s family and some friends (I think the Tofurkey was involved). Minutes after the family arrived one of my relatives made a bee line for the stove and stuck a spoon into the pan on the back burner, took a giant gulp of what she thought was mulled cider. It was potpourri. Poison control had to be called and she felt yucky all day, but had nice cinnamony breath. Then there was the Thanksgiving where we made our first Turkey, no tofu. I didn’t realize there was a plastic baggy of who- knows-what in the middle and therefore didn’t remove it prior to cooking. Oh yeah, then there was the Thanksgiving we switched from turkey in the oven to turkey in the deep fryer. We sat down to eat and the first turkey was so yummy that we forgot there was a second turkey in the fryer. Let’s just say there was no second turkey. To think that poor bird gave up his life only to be charred in our back yard still brings me to tears. Oh yeah, then there was the Thanksgiving where I was trying to carve a Turkey with a very nice ceramic knife Vince had been given as a Christmas gift. Let’s just say that’s not a good idea. It shattered…in the turkey. Then there was the Monday after Thanksgiving four years ago today that ended with a frantic car ride to Chicago to be with my brother as he prepared to go in for emergency brain surgery.

Wow. Life is like this right? Full of contrasts. We go from one thing to the next thing to the next thing. We move from a crazy busy schedule to a coasting, we move from feeling resentful that we have family obligations to recognizing after a loved one passes that it was all a gift, from feeling sadness about a death to feeling the immense joy that someone lived a good life. It’s consistently inconsistent, which I suppose makes it consistent. If life wasn’t like this, we wouldn’t be alive. Life IS like this and any wishing or craving that it wasn’t just results in suffering. I need to have that tattooed on my palm. As Byron Katie says: wishing life wasn’t the way it is results in suffering and only always.

These contrasts are part of our life on and off our yoga mats. The word Hatha (of Hatha Yoga) is the joining of two words (Ha and Tha) meaning Sun & Moon. Our yoga practice can be seen as a vehicle which helps us remember life is made up of opposites…soft & hard, pull & push, effort & no effort. I was reminded of this last week when practicing Crow posture. Because there was a moment of not recognizing the opposite movements of lifting up and at the same time lowering down, I ended up landing on my head. Now there’s a contrast…practicing feeling great to landing on my head~ not feeling so great. The contrasts from tofurkey to brain surgery allow me to be thankful for both, the inedible tofu and the healthy baby brother.

I promise if you ever come over for Thanksgiving we will order out. It will allow for yet another contrast.
Ami

Thank you...I have no complaints

2010-11-29T21:00:00.003-06:00

Thank you for everything. I have no complaints whatsoever is the mantra a Zen monk named Sono gave to all of her students in each and every situation. Holy Schmoly. Really? One of my not-always-so-fun-and-helpful strengths is that when I see situations I see things for what I believe they could be, or I think I see what could be better and then I act on that instinct. This very useful in lots of what I do and not so useful in lots of what I do. This would be a good time to refer back to anything I have ever written about expectations. Now that I write that, maybe I should go back and read everything I have ever written about expectations. This may be part of my life’s work.

Let’s just take a recent example when I was doing something I love…shopping.
I went into a small local boutique and on this particular Saturday afternoon there were no other customers. There was an adult woman and a tween behind the counter eating MdDonald’s fries. Not only did they not speak to me when I entered, but about ten minutes into my visit they had not yet acknowledged my presence ( I was trying things on) until… they told me that I needed to leave because they were closing (let’s be clear this would never happen at the Wardrobe, owned by yogi Kim Dixon). Seriously, I did leave with a complaint (that until now stayed in my head…except for the few friends I told…yikes) and just for the record I left without an expensive sweater.

I am so grateful that noone can actually see inside my head and then know how icky I sound (although likely I have outed my ickyness before now). I told one of my bosses last year that the inside of my head really sounds like Stewey the nasty, mean spirited baby (I know babies in real life can’t be nasty) on Family Guy.

It seems like a very challenging practice that might help steer me more towards gratitude rather than grumbling. What do I have to lose? I am going to pick a day…hmmm…let’s say tomorrow and I’m gonna give it a shot. The world could use one more grateful person.

Thank you for everything. I have no complaints whatsoever.

Yoga & Prairie Dogs

2010-11-26T19:28:00.002-06:00

I recently heard on the radio that praire dogs stop two times a day, stand still with their hands in prayer position and face the sun. I wonder how it is that prairie dogs can remember to do that when sometimes I forget to stop and go to the bathroom.

I heard this praire dog story when Terry Tempest Williams, author of "Finding Beauty In a Broken World" was interviewned on National Public Radio. This praire dog story was part of the lead into an interview about the idea that we all need to find our place.

This title really hit home for me since I have been on the road alot and spending alot of quality time in hotels. We all need a place, right? Where is our place when we aren't at home, or when we don't feel like we fit in at work, at church, in our marriage or our circle of friends.

In this messy, sometimes seemingly broken world, it is easy to feel as though we don't know where we fit. This could mean we don't know if we fit in our jeans, but more than likely it is the feeling of not being sure where we fit among the people and places in our lives. Maybe this feeling arises as we leave a relationship, or when we are ready for retirement or recognizing it's time to move into a new job or new city. If we don't know where we fit, we can end up feeling like we don't have any solid ground under our feet.

When I don't feel like I know where I fit, the best thing I can do is hop, stumble, crawl, run or roll out of bed and onto my mat. It gives me the opportunity to sense the ground under my feet, the breath move through my belly and the recognition that where we all fit is~ everywhere. It can be the reminder that there really is no separation from wisdom, no separation from grace and there is no true separation from any other beings...whether that is the person with the bad attitude sitting across from you, or the prairie dog.

Here's to stopping twice a day, putting our hands in front of our hearts, setting the intention to remember we always have a place of beauty to visit & it's on the inside

The Road to Something Beautiful

2010-11-26T19:25:00.000-06:00

I was talking with a yogi the other day who mentioned they were "thinking about starting a home practice."

I LOVE THESE WORDS!

I had the opporutnity to ask a few questions about where this might be coming from and what might be getting in the way of the mat moving out of the trunk and rollled onto the floor. The responses were all of the ones that most of use...I like to get up to read the paper and have a cup of coffee, I'm in a hurrry, the kids need to have breakfast, the dog needs walked, I don't want to give up my morning run, etc. Although that is what most of say is getting in the way of the mat gettting rolled out, I think often times there could be an underlying sense of discomfort about being alone in a room, standing at the front of our mat, with the sometimes loud voice in our head, the discomfort in our bodies and the sometimes funky feeling in our hearts. I would rather tell you it's just because I like to sleep in.

When I hear someone say "I'm thinking of starting a home practice" what I hear them say is "I'm really ready to start something beautiful." Getting on the mat alone, if we stick with it, will mean we have the opportunity for all roads to lead us home to ourselves. This road may not always feel so great, maybe because our back is sore and our hamstrings tight, or maybe because we need to nurture that part of ourselves that we have neglected. The neglected part might be we have kept so busy we haven't allowed ourselves to feel what we really feel. Those feelings might include grief, anger, desire, fear or maybe even love.

This road back to our true nature doesn't have to be long and full of suffering. It just needs to be traveled with awareness and patience. This road can be like a beautiful drive through the mountains. Imagine driving in the mountains when you aren't in a hurry , you safely maneuver through the highs and lows, you have the opportunity to take in the amazing views, breathe in the crisp, fresh air and arrive safely back at home.

This month maybe we could all take the journey towards home by spending ten minutes in a room alone, on our mats. We could start by standing at the front of our mat, feeling the energy move up our legs, taking a deep breath, moving into tree pose and then resting. Start the journey gently, five or ten minutes is just as beautiful as forty five minutes...if you are thinking of starting a home practice.

Here's to the journey

The Yoga Sutra says Bliss is in the Dumpster

2010-11-26T19:21:00.001-06:00

Patanjali's Yoga Sutra were compiled approximately five thousand years ago. It is in these Sutra (sutra can be translated as threads...as in threads of wisdom) that Patanjali laid out 194 (or 196 depending on who you ask) aphorisms (or short bits of wisdom).

It is in these four chapters that Patanjali described the infamous eight limbs of yoga. These eight limbs of yoga are contained in chapters two and three. "It is in chapter two, entitled "Sadhana Pada" (can be translated as "Treading the Path)" that Patanjali gives us ways we can live our lives that will lead to awakening." (from mindful YOGA mindful LIFE by Charlotte Bell).

It could also be said that the eight limbs of yoga lay out a way for us to "tread the path" and reduce suffering, thus leading us to a happier life. It seems unimaginable that even now, the eight limbed path is relevant in our lives and, yet, it is. Just in case you haven't had an opportunity to dive into the Yoga Sutras, here is the layout of the eight limbs:

1. Yamas: ethics or as I see it, things not to do.
• ahimsa: non-violence
• satya: not lying (telling the truth)
• asteya: nonstealing
• brahmacharya: not misusing our sexual energy
• aparigraha: not being greedy

2. Niyamas: personal practices or as I see it, things to do.
•saucha: cleanliness
•santosha: contentement
•tapas: discipline
•svadyaya: study of self or spiritual texts
•Ishvarapranidhana: surrender to the presence of something bigger than us

3. Asana: physical practice of postures
4. Pranayama: extension of life force: breath practice
5. Pratyahara: sense withdrawal
6. Dharana: concentration
7. Dyhana: meditation
8. Samadhi: absorption into spirit

At the risk of sounding crazy, I think Patanjali might have been telling me we should rent a dumpster. I think he thought it would be one step on the path to less suffering and to more clarity about what's important and who I am. All of that from a dumpster? Extra amazing since he probably had never even heard of a dupster.

I had this realization about the connection between the dumpster and the Yoga Sutras as I was preparing to teach Monday night . I was working through how to teach the importance of how we keep our props (think blankets, blocks, mats, etc) and our practice space. I recognize some people make fun of how meticulous I am about keeping the blankets folded and the studio in order. I see the space we practice in, whether is at Ahh Yoga, at home or anywhere else, as sacred space. It is space where we are opening ourselves both physically and emotionally; and as I see it, it is space that ultimately represents the rest of our lives. It comes back to that motto "how you do anything is how you do everything."

So, as I try to tie most of the beginning classes to some piece of the Yoga Sutra, I realize this notion of cleanliness and orderliness is part of Patanjali's niyamas (the second of the eight limbs of Patanjali's Yoga). In fact, it is the first of the niyamas. It is called Saucha. Saucha is sometimes translated as purity and sometimes it is extended to cleanliness. For now, let's just go with the cleanliness concept.

Our garage needed a serious cleaning as did our basement. So, we rented a dumpster and filled it with all kinds of stuff that didn't need to be saved and didn't need passed on to someone else. For instance, I found my 1986 Arthur Marching Band Award, all of the notes given to me by my high school friends and high school boyfriend, framed certificates of achievements from undergraduate school, an empty coke bottle filled with glitter from my college dorm room, mardi gra beads (that I didn't earn) and the list goes on and on and on.

I knew that all of that clutter in the basement and garage was weighing on me, but I didn't know how much until they pulled the full dumpster out of our driveway. It seems accurate to me that when my environment is less cluttered, is clean and organized, my mind is more settled and clearer. When my mind is clearer and more settled, I am able to see more clearly who I am and see more clearly what is important. Who knew that filling that dumpster to the brim was going to remind me that what we all are at our core is perfect, beautiful, blissful love, and what is most important is that we live from that space, both in our hearts, in our basements, and garages.

Unconditioning

2010-11-26T19:18:00.002-06:00

Back to school is such an exciting time of year. Even though I no longer go school supply shopping and wait anxiously to find out who my homeroom teacher is going to be, come mid august there is always that sense something exciting is about to happen. Typically at the beginning of August, I try to clean out my desk, straighten up the bookshelves, buy a new calendar and set all kinds of irrational and unachievable goals. One year I set the goal that I was going to get up early enough every work day to have hot tea, write in my journal and read inspirational stuff before I got ready for work. If you are ever interested, I can show you the two pages I filled in that journal.

So, this year, I started out cleaning the desk and bookshelves. As I was going through a stack of papers (that should have been filed six months ago), I found a little blue sticky note that said "yoga is about un-conditioning." Yoga is about doing things differently, how perfect for the beginning of August.

Since I found the note, I have realized this is an accurate reflection of my personal practice. When I am on the yoga mat and practicing Sun Salutations A&B and am moving into Plank pose, I almost always step back with my left foot. I almost always pause and do a little self talk before I attempt to practice five boat poses (goes like this...come on, just do it, what are you waiting for, stalling isn't going to help...). I tend to skip inversions I have aversions to and I almost always have to remind myself that it isn't necessary to beat myself up when I have a day or two off the mat. The same is true in my life off the mat. I am conditioned to lean forward when I type at my desk, I always hold the phone with my left hand, about 3:00 pm I begin craving a coke, if I am feeeling stressed I am distracted and am more likely to multi-task and I can predict that if I am anxious and simultaneously distracted I am going to begin to go into grasping and controlling mode. It's all conditioning.

If we start to move back with a different foot, hold the phone with a different hand, have a hot tea instead of a coke, move right into the inversion we avoid and back off rather than attempt to control we are going to have to be present. These types of changes, little tiny changes (btw, they don't feel little to me~especially the Coca Cola) are going to require us to WAKE UP, to PAY ATTENTION, to SNAP out of our very enticing reverie, move off our AUTOPILOT way of living and engage in the moment. Practicing this can be done right on your yoga sticky mat. You can pay attention to any habits you may have fallen into, whether that's how you hold your tongue in your mouth, how you flip your hair after a forward bend, how you watch the teacher instead of your drishti, how you continue to increase the crease between your eyebrows or how you allow yourself to go on a rampage of self loathing inside your head. These types of changes on the mat will surely begin to afford us the opportunity to brave the world off our mat in a completely unconditioned way. Who knows, maybe we can all wake up long enough to realize we might have been missing our life, our very beautiful, poignant and temporary life.

Yoga and the Bucket

2010-11-26T14:07:00.003-06:00

Yesterday I found myself in that not-so cool position of presenting information on a book I have not read. It was actually just a few points from a book I hadn't read. Anyway, I did what I did in high school. I read the web version of cliff notes. The title of the book is "How Full is Your Bucket." The jist of this book is that in every interaction we have we are either putting good stuff in other people's buckets or we are scooping stuff out of their bucket. In addition, when we put stuff in other people's buckets, our bucket gets fuller & the fuller our bucket, the better we feel. Seems reasonable enough to me, seems like we all want a full bucket.

The concept of this book reminded me of my yoga bucket. I feel happier and am more likely to get on the mat if I remember there are lots of different ways to practice. The practice can be tailored to my life.

I was in the Monday afternoon Ashtanga class and it occured to me that the practice was feeling fantastic because of the structure the ashtanga primary series offers. When you practice Ashtanga, you never need to wonder what comes next, because the sequence of poses is always the same. At that moment in my life,I was needing structure on and off my mat.

I was in Yin class, and it occured to me that the practice was feeling fantastic because I had no idea what was coming next, my body was trying new things and I
found a strength I didn't know I had. That day, I realized I needed to be more present and not spend so much time in the imagined future.

I was in vinyasa flow class and remembered I love practicing to music and I loved how the changing sequence of familiar poses was refreshing. On that day, I was
needing to remember that when life starts to feel a little lackluster, I can take what I allready know and just change it up a bit.

I was feeling crazy stressed and practiced three part breathing while in the car. At that moment, I needed the opportunity to allow my breath to drop down into my belly and assist in taking my nervous system off high alert.

I had time on Saturday afternoon to get in a long slow practice. On that day, I was desperately needing time without other people, I needed to move slowly
and allow space for devotion to some presence larger than myself.

This morning I had a short practice in my hotel room with the sun shining in my third floor window. I had very little time, but wanted the opportunity to take care of my body before sitting in a day long meeting.

As I reflect on this, I have a variety of yoga tools to use in my daily life. Yoga has the potential to help us fill our own buckets and in turn, have the
energy to fill other people's buckets.

keep on truckin

2010-04-14T20:48:00.002-05:00

A few months ago Vince and I found the time to go and visit my mother’s cousin in Indianapolis. His name is Pete. When I was growing up, Pete was that one relative who I always thought “got” me. He was around at all the important times in my life. He was a free spirit and had the ability to make light of even the stickiest family conversations. Shortly after Vince and I got married, Pete’s sixteen year old son was killed in a car accident. I wondered how he could survive such a tragedy. A few years later, he fell off a ladder and broke his back. He survived through the recovery with that same amazing Pete spirit. Today, Pete lives in the room built onto his house where he lies all day, every day in his hospital bed. He has some sort of neurological illness that has taken away his ability to walk and now his ability to speak, to eat regular food, to feed himself and to engage in any way other than with his eyes and hopefully soon his fingers on a communication device. As one might imagine, about the only thing you can say about this is “this sucks”.

So, on our visit, I sat across from him wondering what it must be like to be inside there, inside his body. Are any of us ready to be able to live inside our bodies? Truly inside. I wonder if Pete has learned about his thinking and somehow was able to find peace with how his physical body was deteriorating? I wonder if he decided he could find joy in looking outside the window, hearing about other people’s lives, watching his unbelievably devoted wife live her life and watching Raymond on television? I wonder if he was able to find peace in how people, including myself, began to slowly (or not so slowly) stop visiting. We can all be so afraid to look at how our life might turn out, that we turn our heads, afraid to look at the cracks. Just a side note, Leonard Cohen says “looking at the cracks is how we let the light in.”

As I left our visit, so many things were running through my mind that I was sort of in shut down mode. Well, actually, I was in eat-lots-of-blueberry-pie-mode at the Traverse City Pie Company.

This thinking comes again as my maternal grandmother has had a rather rapid physical and mental deterioration. She is now in the nursing home and is again able to recognize people and communicate, but her quality of life isn’t so great. Actually, I would say it’s not great at all. It does make you, or at least me, wonder, at some point don’t you just want to throw in the towel? I don’t want to be in a nursing home, nor does anyone else I know. Where do people find the joy to keep on truckin? Do they find the joy, or do they just muddle through? Do we have a choice…do we get to decide between the two?

I see this same theme as people I know and love retire from the work that they have devoted most of their waking hours. As they leave their jobs, I see a sort of stumbling around trying to figure out what’s next? What is next? Is it taking care of the grandkids and volunteering? Does golf on Mondays, housework on Tuesdays, volunteering on Thursdays and time with friends on Friday’s end up satisfying us?

How do we look forward when we realize that there are more years behind us than ahead of us? How do you look forward when you realize you aren’t going to walk anymore? How do you look forward when you leave the role you have identified with for most of your life? Where oh where does that will to live come from and why is it I’m not sure if I’ve got it? It’s that age old question…what in the world is all of this for? Is it so I can end up in a nursing home with someone calling me “honey’ and giving me really crappy food after I have spent most of my adult life trying to eat organic and fresh?

As you can see, or read, that line of thinking ain’t gonna get us anywhere. In fact, the joke is on us. There isn’t anywhere for us to get. The reason the future can look so scary and icky, is because the future doesn’t even exist. I know I sound nuts (and probably depressed) but really, this moment is all there is. There isn’t anything else other than now. So, trying to figure out what might lie ahead of us is wasting right now. I am not implying here that there aren’t things we need to plan for, like life insurance and a retirement fund, but what I am saying is anything other than those practicalities is futile and ultimately irrelevant. The only point of all this is there is no point. If you can step back for a second it is riotously funny. We can’t know if we are gonna be the one getting a sponge bath or climbing a mountain when we are 90. We can only know now, that how we treat our bodies in this moment may increase the odds that we are climbing rather than sponging. We can know that the disgusting blended salad smoothie (don’t get me started) is way better for my body than the vegan chocolate shake I’m craving. We can know that getting on our mat increases the likelihood that we will keep our balance and reduce the likelihood of falling and breaking a hip if we get to grow old, going for a brisk walk might help reduce the likelihood of our heart giving out sooner than we want and practicing pranayama might come in handy if we get trapped inside the body.

The way all this wondering and questioning and suffering ceases is that we recognize that we are not our roles, we are not our jobs, we are not our parents, we are not our kids, we are not our bodies, we are not our thoughts, we are not our minds, we are not our past, we are not our future. There really is no “me” who needs satisfied. Really, there isn’t. Whether we have lived half of our life doesn’t really matter. What matters is that who we are is what is looking outside this shell of a body and who we are will be here when it’s gone. This “who we are” is there even if work stops, if this body stops working, even if the body can no longer produce sound, even if life isn’t going as planned, even if I’m getting a sponge bath, even if the body is sick, even if our husband leaves, even if our outside world falls apart. This recognition just might be what keeps us truckin.

Is Your Heart Telling You About an Energy Leak?

2010-01-07T22:09:00.011-06:00

After seven years of thinking about stopping by Living Yoga Center in Urbana, I finally made it. I was very excited to catch a class taught by Deb Lister, the director. In addition to offering a fantastic, warm, inviting & challenging vinyasa flow class, she said some of the most beautiful words. During an asana that focuses on opening up the chest she said “be gentle with your heart”. Wow. When was the last time you told yourself to be gentle with your heart?

There are so many ways we can be gentle with our hearts and yet so often we find ourselves doing just the opposite. When was the last time you gave yourself permission to live completely from your heart, rather than from a sense of fear that we might look bad or be making the wrong decision. When was the last time you ignored the stomach ache you have when you talk with someone, or the backache that happens right after you complete a work project? When I’m living from fear I tend to be more likely to put forth a ton of effort, try to make things fit they way I want them to (like trying to fit in your skinny jeans the week after xmas), to swim upstream, ignore my body and listen to the mad monkey mind. Swimming upstream takes so much energy. In my life, swimming upstream has never been a sign that I am on the right track. It doesn’t mean I haven’t worked hard or put forth energy, lots of energy, but I have found there is a huge difference between putting forth energy and putting forth effort. Energy seems to be an exchange that is nourishing and effort seems like, well visualize my kapha self pushing a boulder up a very big mountain in one hundred degree heat. Not pretty.

Today I have been stuck in a hotel (a nice one thank goodness. Vince says I’m a princess when it comes to hotels.) because of the winter weather. I was telling Vince I thought I should go out and clean off and start my car. I was dreading it but thought that was what responsible adults do when it snows. Vince’s response made me laugh (at myself). He mentioned being a grown up doesn’t always have to be so effortful and hard. Going out in icky weather to start a perfectly fine (albeit glitchy) car might not be necessary. As it turns out, the Hilton Garden Inn cleans off your car as a “nice touch” (their words). I have these ideas of what it means to be responsible and honestly, they are almost all ideas that require me to not live from my heart and swim upstream. No wonder I sometimes find myself singing the Toys-R-Us song in the shower…”I don’t want to grow up, I’m a Toys-R-Us Kid” (I’ve done this for at least seventeen years).

A friend of mine was saying the other day that when she was in her early twenties she heard a minister talk about how if you are giving more than you are getting back in a relationship, maybe it would be wise to take a closer look. I suppose this can go for all kinds of relationships. We are in all kinds of relationships. We are in relationship with our grocer, our haircutter, our government, our spouse, partner, boyfriend, girlfriend, friends, coffee-shop, gas station, and even our jobs. Is energy draining out of you without it being replenished? Is energy draining out of you leading to you living from your head and not your heart? When I was in private practice a wise therapist across the hall pointed out that if I was working harder than my client I had a problem. I had a problem. If I had known to listen differently, I could have heard my body yelling “Ami, your shoulders are tense, your chest is tight, you have no energy, your always thinking thinking thinking AND your tired all the time.” Our bodies don’t lie.

What does your body tell you? What do the physical sensations in your back, shoulders and stomach tell you? Are you exhausted? Are you spending all of your time in your head forgetting that if we are gentle with our hearts we will find all of the answers we need? We will find answers that will tell us what we need to know about the job, the partner, the grocer, the haircutter. I can recall a time when I decided to leave a relationship. It was a relationship with someone wonderful, but that someone came with some things that weren’t good for me. I would often feel really icky. I would feel tense and heavy and as if I was someone else. When it ended, I was feeling really sad. Really sad. As I left this person, I was crying as I drove down the road. I just happened to look down and noticed one of my hands was pushing into my chest, around my heart. It was honestly like my heart hurt. I was afraid the lightness of Ami had left for good. I’m grateful I was patient enough to listen to the messages of the body, because the lightness came back, even lighter.

I think this year I am going to pay particular attention to the sensations in my physical body. Then I can be alerted to the signs of a possible leak. May you be gentle with your heart and not be too leaky.

In or near Urbana? Check out
Living Yoga Center
www.livingyogacenter.net
707 West Main Street, Urbana - (217) 384-5829

Life Begins at the End of our Comfort Zone

2009-12-22T17:23:00.001-06:00

I was in the back of the class, it was early in the morning (way earlier than I typically like to get up) and Kathleen was subbing for the Saturday morning flow class. As I entered downward facing dog she said "if you haven't been here for a while, this may be uncomfortable, just stay with it and give yourself time." Those were the words I was longing to hear as my body was experiencing the results of sitting in a chair all day the day before. It's a good thing enlightenment isn't at all related to my hamstrings.

The holidays can be a time where we feel a bit uncomfortable. Maybe we are uncomfortable around our families, maybe we are uncomfortable because we aren't around our families. Maybe it's the crazy amount of food we are eating, or the crazy amount of money we might be spending. It seems like this time of year could be where we demonstrate everything we have learned about ourselves in the past year on our yoga mat. On our mats, we are learning to stay with our breath, to keep an open heart, to live from our hearts, to honor our differences (on the mat this might be honoring my body is different than your body; or honoring my body today is different than my body yesterday), to cultivate compassion towards ourselves and others and to stay connected to some presence bigger than ourselves.

Sometimes, life during the holidays doesn't seem as comfortable as all that. Maybe we have just gotten in the habit of living in a routine that doesn't match what we are learning on our mats. It can be uncomfortable to enter into new positions, whether that is a yoga pose or how we interact with people in our lives. The holiday season is really the perfect time to practice. Jack Kornfield said in this month's edition of Tricycle "if you think you are enlightened, go spend a week with your family."

Our twelve year old niece wears a necklace that says "life begins at the end of our comfort zone." I think she is right. Do you know where your comfort zone ends?

This holiday season, let's all look for a place in our life where we can break an old habit, a habit that might be comfortable and yet not-so-skillful. Let's step out of our comfort zone and allow our life to begin again.

Cheers,
Ami

Yoga & the Courage to Live

2009-12-22T17:12:00.004-06:00

I was recently at the bar (yep, yogis go to the bar sometimes) with Vince and some of his collegues. We were enjoying some lively conversation and watching one of the World Series games (GO YANKEES!). I happened to be seated next to a wonderful woman named Holly. Holly had just finished teaching one of her classes where she was showing a video about Carl Rogers. Holly was describing the video and how there was a moment in the video where Mr. Rogers (not the one with the cardigan) said "It takes courage to live".

As I thought about this more I came up with about a million ways it takes courage to live our day to day lives. For me, this includes the fact that somedays it takes courage for me to get on my yoga mat.

Life is messy and it's complicated and sometimes we don't give ourselves enough credit for just doing the best we can. We don't honor that it takes courage to get up in the morning and face that our health has taken a turn for the worse. It takes courage to face the deep pain that comes with the death of someone we love or the loss of a relationship that we cherished. It takes courage to be present with our own disappointment when we have acted in a way that wasn't so kind or in a way that doesn't match the image we hold of ourselves. Somedays it takes courage to get out of bed, feed the cat, dress our kids and get to work.

I have noticed over the past month I have experienced such a wide variety of emotions on my yoga mat that if I described them all I might be sent away to a padded room. I have been traveling for my day job lately (1500 miles in october not to put too fine a point on it) and I always always take my mat. Sometimes I don't use it, but I always take it. It's my "Linus" blanket. So, early in October, I was at a conference and I woke early enough to spend time practicing before the crazy pace of the day began. I wasn't aware of how completely sad and anxious I was feeling until I notieced the tears dripping on my mat in down dog. This is what I mean about it taking courage to get on the mat. It takes courage to be with our own pain, or our own anxiety. It doesn't always feel good to stand at the front of the sticky mat and feel all of the discomfort, whether it's the tightness in our hamstrings or the metaphorical pain around our hearts. What I noticed after a tearful practice that morning in the hotel is that I was able to be with myself compassionately. I was able to shower, make a healthy choice for breakfast and stand in front of lots of people and complete a presentation. I believe being present that morning with my achey insides, gave me an opportunity to honor that sometimes it takes courage to live.

(the pic is of my friend stephanie's very sweet baby boy...he was looking like i sometimes feel)

WHAT'S YOUR STORY MORNING GLORY?

2009-08-29T19:13:00.005-05:00

I have been thinking lately about all of the stories we tell ourselves...and how they can define who we are...if we let them.

I am plant illiterate. I have a black thumb. You would (if you were smart) never ask me to plant sit while you are away on vacation. So, I decided since the title of my posting had morning glory in it, I should at least know a little something about them. Thank goodness for Wikipedia. I looked it up and it's crazy fitting! Morning glories are exactly like the crazy stories that I attach to in my very busy mind.

According to Wikipedia, morning glories are described as developing “thick roots and tend to grow in dense thickets. They can quickly spread by way of long creeping stems. By crowding out, blanketing and smothering other plants, morning glory has turned into a serious invasive weed problem.” They are just like my stories! My stories tend to develop thick roots. They tend to grow in a busy mind. If I entertain them they spread quickly. My stories often crowd out and smother other nice, beautiful, peaceful thoughts….my stories are an invasive weed problem”. Who knew?

Do the stories of our past have to define us? I’m convinced if I hold onto my stories that I end up suffering. In fact, I wish we could have an on/off switch in our brains to help stop the story makin’ machine. Actually, I can’t think of a single good reason to have an “on” switch to the story makin’ machine.

My story making machine has led me to believe I am afraid of wasps. Why am I afraid of them? I am afraid of them because when I was seven one stung me on the nose as I was jumping off the diving board in Kentucky. It’s true. It did happen and it did hurt. I remember it like it was yesterday. I have held onto that story for over 30 years and now…I am a person who is afraid of wasps. That’s my story. With that being part of the story of Ami, I am a bit of a freak whenever a wasp flies up onto our beautiful front porch. In fact, last week I was enjoying breakfast (and a fascinating conference call) on the porch. A wasp flew up. One wasp. It was no where near me. I went inside. Without that story, I might have continued enjoying my morning on the porch. The only thing buzzing that morning was my head…continuing the story of Ami, who is afraid of wasps.

We can take every single event that has occurred in our lifetime, attach it to our identity and KABOOM….we are our story. We can choose to believe we are our story or we can inquire about the true nature of who we are.

What’s your story morning glory?
Who would you be right this very second without your story?

PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME KEEP READING THIS FICTIONAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY

2009-08-16T13:15:00.003-05:00

Although it’s not very charming to admit, most of us at some time or another believe that we either deserve special treatment or that we are special. It isn’t something we talk about directly or even talk about at all. It quite possibly is just one way to say that we are different than other people or (ick) that we are better than other people. Not so attractive.

As I think back, I recognize this theme has been developing since I popped out of my mother’s womb. When I was an infant, I almost died of pneumonia. Babies and toddlers who experience some kind of serious illness often get treated a bit differently than their siblings. There is something special about them. They are inadvertently sent the message that they are special because they could have died, and didn’t. I think from an early age, some of our parents (doing what they think is best) send us an ongoing message that we are special. They inadvertently teach us we are different and we can shine, maybe even shine brighter than anyone else. We get the message that we are special and we deserve a good life, that we deserve happiness…that we are deserving.

In high school, I was the class president three out of four years, I was the homecoming queen, I was voted most popular. In college, I received special treatment at the sorority because my older sister paved the way. I moved into the sorority house as a freshman, I was the pledge class president who eventually became the president of the chapter (we won’t go into how ‘un-special” it was when a member through an iron at me). I was on the college student government. I was nominated for SIU homecoming queen. I was awarded awards that at the time continued to convince me I was special, that I stood out from the crowd, that I was somehow different.

This pattern has continued through adulthood. It has continued into my professional life as a social worker (people think you are special when you help kids whom no-one else likes), in my vocation as a yoga teacher/studio owner, in my friendships, in other relationships and on my yoga mat. Recently it has become crystal clear that believing in the concept of being special is not only an illusion, but it is an illusion that is a direct path to the big island of suffering.

This “specialness” has been coming up over and over lately. Just yesterday my neighbor and I were talking about how there comes a time when Cub fans just need to know they are deserving of their team winning a World Series, that they are special too. Cub fans need to know they are good enough fans and come on, they just need a bit of recognition. Cub fans just need to be recognized as legitimate fans rooting for a legitimate team. Right?

The “specialness” factor came up in my last job and is already coming up in my new job. Last year one of my co-workers said to me “you know it’s a far fall when she decides your not special.” YUCK! YUCK on so many different levels. This year, in my new job I recognize some people think I am special and some people think I am not special. If I am not living mindfully, I get really caught up in this game of how to keep the people thinking I am special and getting the people who don’t think I am~ to think I am. Can you say YUCK again? No wonder sometimes I feel sooooo tired.

There are other situations in my life where I am one in a group of three. I regularly notice myself thinking about if the other two think I am good enough, if I am living up to their expectations of greatness, of worthiness. It’s no wonder I have two deep lines forming between my eyebrows. This is a tactical nightmare. How can anyone juggle all of this? It’s going against the stream of universal energy. As Ester Hickes describes it, it’s moving upstream.

Maybe this need to feel special or different is just one way for us to convince ourselves that we are in fact good enough. If I believe you think I am special, I must be good enough and worthy (this has to be accompanied by the belief that you know me way better than I know me). This need to be special, to be different, to be better is one way to avoid the recognition that we are perfect just as we are. We may be perfectly fucked up, or perfectly unhappy, perfectly jobless or penniless or lonely. We can avoid being with the recognition that how we are, is really just how we are…in this moment. If we feel like we are special then we somehow continue the myth that we deserve better, shouldn’t be in this situation and should have everything we want. I can’t think of a better way to spend our lives paddling upstream, without any paddles. It’s the best way I can think of to send the universe the vibrational message that we know better than it. We are sending the message we know life should be different than it is. This seems like a fantabulous way to get our energy stuck. In the mud.

The other reason I think we might want to carry around this message that we are special or different is because then we believe we won’t ever be forgotten. Right? If I believe that you think I am the bees knees then you can’t possibly forget about me, ever. There is nothing like believing that I can live on forever and ever and ever, even if only in your memory. If I am different than everyone you have ever met (code for more special) then in some weird way I walk around with the idea that I am (meaning my personality) immortal. Believing that you think I am the most beautiful, loving, smart, funny, neurotic being you have ever known or that I am the best friend you have ever had, or that I am the best yoga teacher in the whole freaking world, or that I am really the best employee in the organization, or have the best haircut south of Chicago, or have the most potential, or am the friendliest neighbor on the block, or on and on and on sends me right to feeling solid, valid, important and seen. The label of me has been solidified. Now I know who I am. Right? This knowing is going to be accompanied by an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. It’s exhausting because in order for me to continue to out do myself, to keep you thinking that I rock, is a butt load of work. It’s the kind of work that never stops, never has an end. It means that while I exist right now I need to be thinking about what I am going to do next (in order to keep on the top rung of the special ladder). It should be noted here that it will be absolutely devastating when I realize that likely you have had these thoughts about other people (of course implying that I am just one person in a long line of special people to you) or if heaven forbid you change your mind about how great I am. That is the kind of realization that makes a girl with a solidified identity want to vomit and/or stay under the covers.

There are multiple reasons why continuing the specialness illusion is not such a brilliant plan. The most difficult to remember reason and the most important (or special) reason is that when I am looking for you to validate me, the me I am really talking about is the self with a small s (rather than the self with a big s). I am looking for you to solidify my pea brained self. I am looking for you to solidify my ego (can you think of anything more ego driven than wanting to be viewed as special, or better or different than everyone else?) When I am looking for you to think I rock, I am continuing to trick myself into believing that who I am, who I really am, is mortal. However, who I really am at the core is the same as who you really are and that is without a beginning, without an end, immortal and way more special than this never ending fictional autobiography I keep spinning.

Grasping for THE Point

2009-07-11T22:41:00.002-05:00

We (Aasne, Denise and I) had the good fortune of going up to the Midwest Yoga Conference this year. We started the first day of the conference with a class called Yoga at the Wall. I was really excited about practicing with the wall~I thought gentle, slow and restorative. That was the kind of practice this body was needing on that particular morning. When Nancy McCaochan walked in the room I was struck by her grace and beauty. She has long, gray hair and skin that has the look of a life well lived. I should mention here, it was a challenging practice (we were all a bit sweaty when we finished). However, what struck me most were the words that came out of Nancy’s mouth. I wish I could have written down every word she said, because they were all beautiful and instructive. One of the lines she said about our asana practice was: “when we grasp to lightly or too tightly we lose what we were trying to grasp in the first place.”

This line is so true in our asana practice. Can’t you feel it when you are muscling into a posture and holding your breath and sucking in your stomach and trying to be a contortionist? Maybe I’m the only one who ever does that. Anyway, it’s a sure fire way to miss the beauty of the asana~to miss the point. We might be in the physical posture, but we aren’t able to experience it the way it was intended. I think it is anti-yoga. What are we grasping for anyway?

I was recently at the doctor’s office receiving my allergy shots. Nurse Donna, who has been my shot nurse for approximately forever, asked me what I had been up to in the past 28 days. I told her what life had been looking like and I started to say “You just get to the point where” and she finished it with “there is no point.” You just get to the point where there is no point. Out of the mouth of nurses. What thoughts and ideas are we grasping onto that are leading us to feel like there is no point.

My friend Lindsay has talked about feeling the effects of the daily grind. You know? You get up, you go to work the same way you always go, you work, you go home, you fix supper, you watch a movie, you go to bed and you start all over again. Maybe this sort of dilemma is implying that we have forgotten what we were grasping for in the first place. Maybe we are grasping too lightly.

All of this has led me to recently ask the question (over and over and over) “what is the point?” What is the point of anything and everything. What is the point? Maybe this is implying an existential crisis on my part. If so, it’s not a new one. It’s one I believe I come back to over and over and over again. Maybe it keeps me fresh or maybe it keeps me from ever sinking into bliss.

So, I’m on the phone with Zoe the therapist in California. I love her. I love sitting in the park, under a big shade tree, talking on the phone with her about “the point”. Our sessions typically last an hour and they typically fly by. So, on this day, the day of “the point”, I am spinning and feeling like I have lost the anchor of security. You know, the illusion that we have control over everything. So, Zoe, in her magical way, leads me to question the thought “there is no point.” She asks me if I can absolutely know there is no point (answer: no, I can’t know for sure). She asks me how my physical body feels when I believe there is no point (answer: belly tight, shoulders tight, breath shallow). She asks what is the opposite of there is no point (answer: there is a point). She asks me to come up with three reasons why the thought “there is a point” is as true or truer than the thought “there is NO point”. I come up with three answers and suddenly there is no more question. There was silence. There was the sound of the guy mowing the lawn at the park. There was the sound of the ducks in the pond. There was the sound of the birds. There was a view of two squirrels chasing one another and there was a brilliant shadow on the grass. There was nothing. There was no question “what is the point” and there was no need for an answer to the no longer relevant question. There was just awareness of that moment. Just presence. There was just that moment, right then, under the shade tree with the phone in my left hand and silence on both ends of the line. I said I thought I wanted to finish early.

Towards the end of the class with Nancy and the wall, she said “Yoga is directional~pointing us towards understanding its about the journey.” I suppose we could say it’s about the journey we take while we grasp that we don’t need to grasp at all.

Nancy McCaochan’s book is called:
Yoga at the Wall
Like stanzas in a poem
It can be ordered through nancy’s website www.yogaatthewall.com

After the fireworks~BLISS

2009-07-11T19:40:00.011-05:00

We have the good fortune of being able to live a few blocks from an amazing park that has a carillon. When my head is quiet I can hear it from our front porch. Each spring there is a Carillon festival that ends with a night of the best fireworks the city sees. This year, we walked down with our friends, our dog Bear and lawn chairs. We sat down in a crowd of people and waited for the fireworks to begin. As we waited, I noticed a bit of tension in my body. As I tuned in, I knew it was because I really hate the BANG sound of fireworks. So, about as soon as I remembered this the fireworks began. They were beautiful and they were loud. Really loud.

I realized the best part of fireworks is the quiet in between each one being shot off AND when they are all over. I think this might be a metaphor for life~being present for all the loud and flashy stuff so we can recognize and appreciate the quiet, tender stuff. It's about the contrast, about opposites. Just like Hatha Yoga is the physical practice of opposites, sun & moon, left & right, hard & soft. Just like relationships, after the fireworks we need to know how to sink into the calm.

This all comes in time for Vince and I to celebrate our 15 year wedding anniversary. We have been together for 17 years. This math doesn't all add up in my head because I feel like I'm about 25 on the inside (not sure what that says about my maturity level). Not surprisingly, after fifteen years of sharing a a bathroom there often aren't a-lot of surprises. Or, some might say fireworks. It's a skill to stay in and appreciate the calm of the relationship, the grand spaciousness and quiet that can exist with two people who really know each other. It's a skill to not create lots of drama and fireworks, no matter the type. It takes a willingness to be transparent with one another and to be present with one another to keep the quiet, steady flame alive. We all know fireworks don't last and often only come around for the fourth of july. We can live with one another as if the relationship consists of the trunk and roots of a tree and we are each the branches, finding our own way, our own path. This will most definitely take a commitment to live in our hearts, rather than our heads~to live in the moment, where everything is fresh. Our relationships can be just as much of our yoga practice as asanas can be. They can help us stay connected with our bliss. And as Deepak Chopra says "Nothing is more important than reconnecting with your bliss. Nothing is as rich. Nothing is more real."

Where have I been?

2009-07-11T14:22:00.011-05:00

Where have you been? That is what someone asked me recently when I was at the studio. I responded with "uh, i don't know, I have been traveling quite a bit for work and wrapping up for the summer." If my meditation cushion could talk, it would say the same thing. It was about day 50 of the 90 day BIG SIT that I realized I forgot about the Big Sit. Seriously, one day, I'm just minding my own thoughts when it occurred to me that I had forgotten my commitment. It wasn't that I made a concsious decision to quit the Big Sit. I just wasn't sitting anymore. Interesting, because during the first 30 days when I was sitting, I did notice an increased amount of space between thoughts and less attachment to the thinking that incessantly swirls around in my head. Maybe my head was so empty I intuitively knew I could toss the meditation cushion. Not even close to possible.

On March 31st, I posted the idea of a 30 day practice commitment project. I had gone to the other 2 owners of the studio and asked for their blessing, I had figured out how to use the mobile camera on my Mac, had made about 30 different videos before I decided which one I could live with, I posted it on the blog and then, yep, you guessed it, I forgot about it.

I did not forget anything while negotiating a contract for a different job and I did not forget anything while I was wrapping up the job I was leaving. I did not forget to attend the meetings out of town for work, I did not forget my toothbrush while traveling, I did not forget to get the oil changed and on and on and on. I didn't forget that sometimes I feel crazy on the inside when I live on autopilot, just completing the to-do list. I didn't forget that there is only so much time in the day.

I completed the to-do list until it landed me speeding on the interstate to get to our vacation destination. I mention the speeding because as we were leaving town the headlight on the car went out. So, our friends, who were driving their own car, started the trip without us and we headed to our favorite mechanic shop (Floyd Imports if you are wondering). After the headlight was fixed, I started the drive while Vince slept soundly in the passenger seat. In my mind, I thought if I just sped a bit I could get kind of close to being caught up with our friends. I put some tunes on (rather loudly which didn't seem to phase my sleeping mate) and occasionally talked on the phone (with headset of course!). Low and behold, I called our friends to let them know we were going to stop for something to eat and I find out I was ahead of them, way way way ahead of them. I passed them. Speedy Mcspeedster.

We arrived at our lovely condo across from Lake Michigan and I started reading the book I had purchased before leaving for the trip called "In Praise of Slowness". Really, I did. The girl with the lead foot somehow knew she needed to slow down. "In Praise of Slowness, Challenging the Cult of Speed" by Carl Honore is fantastic. I read it quickly (honestly, I am just a fast reader). It is a book that explores slow food, slow driving, slow yoga, slow sex and slow exercise. After reading for a while, I headed up to the rooftop where there was a nice breeze and the Michigan sun shining on me. I sat there alone for a long while. I just sat. I didn't read, I didn't talk, I didn't plan. I just sat. When Vince arrived to the roof I turned to him and said "Where have I been for the past six months?" It was as if I unraveled like a tightly wound cord (I think it might have been around my neck).

What I have come to realize (AGAIN) is that it isn't what's on our calendar that leads to the question "where have I been for the past six months." It's really about our state of mind and how we approach each moment of the day. If we have "watch the sunset" on our to-do list (I didn't just for the record) then first we need to get a grip and then really we need to investigate our state of mind, our approach to each moment and what thoughts are swirling around in our head that we are believing hook-line-and-sinker. If life is just about getting to the next thing and the next thing and the next thing we are gonna be missing what is right here, right now. In this case, I had some ideas that I was excited about and apparently their time had not come, maybe because I was in "to-do" mode rather than "right now is all there is mode." I hadn't investigated the thoughts that apparently sounded something like this: hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, hurry up...............

So, having said that, I have returned home from vacation with a sleu of things on the summer to-do list. Some of which include slowing down and driving the speed limit, exploring a slower asana practice and a slow exercise program. So far since our return, I know exactly where I am.

In Praise of Slowness
Challenging the Cult of Speed
by Carl Honore
ISBN 978-0-06-075051-0

the 30 day practice idea

2009-03-31T20:13:00.009-05:00

My newest idea is to keep teaching yoga, but in a different way. When i get a break and I slow down, new ideas come to light. (like that is such a surprise)! When there is space~amazing stuff happens. Not to say that this is amazing, but this is the latest idea i have been toying with. This is just a preview, a draft of my idea. I am thinking we would start the practice commitment in late april. More details to come.......

The Big Sit

2009-03-08T14:28:00.002-05:00

I have joined Tricycle magazine’s 90 day BIG SIT. I have joined this with Vince, our friend Kurt and many other people around the globe. This is a commitment to sit in meditation for twenty minutes a day for ninety days. I affectionately refer to the BIG SIT as the BIG SHIT. I have to add a bit of humor to the commitment. Otherwise I will freak out about how hard it is to commit to anything, never-the-less something that takes 20 minutes every day. The first few days Vince and I sat together. It was comical torture. The first day when the bell rang indicating our 20 minutes had finished, I dramatically fell off my cushion and began giggling. Who knew 20 minutes could feel like 2 hours when all you are doing is sitting? I mean really, I know 20 minutes feels like 2 hours when I am at the dentist, but just sitting?

So, last week I told Vince I was going up stairs to get something before we watched a movie and when I got to the top of the steps I realized it was a good time to sit. So, I did. About fifteen minutes later, Vince stood at the bottom of the steps and yelled “where are you”?. Oh, what a question. Where was I? Well, the “I” he was referring to was caught in a whopper of a to-do list, all in my mind as I sat on my cushion. I apparently belong on the Love Boat show as Julie McCoy, the cruise ship activity planner. I was planning. Planning, planning, planning. I am an expert planner and believe I could have kicked Julie Mccoy’s butt in planning all of the events on the Love Boat (I do realize the Love Boat was just a television show…).

Another day last week as I was sitting I opened my eyes and began to get up off the zafu to complete a task I had been thinking of..then it occurred to me I was sitting…the bell hadn’t gone off. Seriously, I got so busy planning to do something I forgot I was sitting. Apparently, this 90 day commitment is revealing a habit I have developed. I am moving through life, planning and doing as if I am a robot. A Julie McCoy robot. Not exactly what I want my life to look like.

For more info on the BIG SIT you can check it out on www.tricycle.com.

Is yoga just about manipulating your spine?

2009-03-08T13:15:00.002-05:00

Recently someone said something to me and I immediately noticed something shifted in how my body was feeling. I felt uncomfortable. A “felt sense” of dis-comfort. First I felt embarrassed, then insecure and then anxious. I realized later, that someone was trying to manipulate me. Can “I” be manipulated?

I have been giving this quite a bit of thought for several reasons. First, I am often in a position in my job where I am trying to help people understand how to change (or is it manipulate?) the systems they have set up in their school building for kids. Secondly, what on earth does this have to do with our yoga asana (posture) practice? Thirdly, I am wondering if we truly know who “we” are if it is even possible for “us” to be manipulated.

At work, I often find myself at a table full of people challenging belief systems about what is the best course of action to support kids. I know, especially on a Sunday afternoon when I am NOT at work, all of these people, the ones I adore and the ones I don’t adore, each want what is best for kids. Am I trying to manipulate them into believing what I believe? Am I trying to convince them I have the answer? I have come to the conclusion if I am at the table offering what I know to be true, without any expectation of people changing their minds or agreeing with me, then I am not manipulating. Not manipulating comes with a sense of equanimity, a sense of calmness, dispassion and peace. When I am trying to manipulate, knowingly or not, I am at the table with an “I have the answer” belief lurking under the surface of my squeaky voice. When I am trying to manipulate, I have a sense of conviction, I am passionate, and I present with a sense of cockiness lurking underneath a face of cool collectedness. In addition, when I am trying to manipulate, my dislike for certain individuals is way to apparent. Wow. Who wants to work with the manipulator? Ick! We don’t have to study the Bhagavad Gita or the Yoga Sutra much to know the importance of giving up the fruits of our actions. Apparently, living our yoga practice means not manipulating and giving up the fruits of our actions, even at work! So, this means at work there would not be the effort to convince, or manipulate…rather, just offering what I believe to be true and useful and then letting go…offering up the work that has been done (the fruits of the labor) to something bigger than myself.

Manipulation is somehow connected to our asana practice? Really? We can get on our mats and manipulate the spine, we can stretch it and we can twist it. However, how can this connect to our minds? Well, it seems that the more we are on our mats, the more we are in tune with what our physical body is telling us. The body is always talking, but are we listening? I know I watch people practice who push their bodies and let their minds guide their practice. In my observation, these people either injure themselves, they get bored with the practice and/or they stop getting on their mat. I also have the opportunity to watch people practice who listen to their body and not their minds. It is a practice guided by the body that ultimately leads us to have the ability to hear and follow our “felt sense” off the mat. I believe if we are in tune, if we have been practicing listening to our bodies on the mat, we will know when our body is telling us someone is trying to manipulate us when we are off the mat. It’s quite a gift if we choose to accept it.

Having said all of that, there is another road to take as we look at this question of manipulation. As I always find when I take the time to dive a bit deeper, we need to come back to inquire about who this “me” is…who this “I” is. As we read in the sutras, this “I” can not be affected, cannot be changed, is ever present. Then how could “I” ever be manipulated? We can’t escape this part of the equation. And, honestly, why would anyone ever want to escape it? It is the bottom line that we can come back to-this realization that “I” cannot be manipulated is what takes us beyond our little pea brains and beyond our petty indifferences, beyond our worries and concerns to realize who we are at our core. More importantly, it brings to the surface that who we are cannot be manipulated.

REFERENCE
If you are interested in referring to the Yoga Sutra, you might want to check out:
Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras: Based on the Teaching of SRIVATSTA RAMASWAMI by Pamela Hoxsey.
The text she has put together also includes a CD of her chanting the entire Yoga Sutra.
SriVatsa Ramaswami was Sri Krisnamacarya’s longest standing student outside of his own family. Pamela has studied extensively with Srivatsa Ramaswami. She can be contacted through her address: 1503 Seward Street, Evanston Illinois 60202.

What Would Your Eulogy Say?

2008-12-21T22:17:00.002-06:00

Over the past five months I have helped care for someone who is seriously ill. This time has brought me face to face with all kinds of philosophical issues. As I helped my friend think about some of the decisions she (or someone she loves) might need to make at the end of her life, it of course made me think about them in relationship to my own life.

It is interesting to me how often we put off these conversations, or put off thinking about our own death. It’s gonna happen, we can count on it. A few years after Vince and I were married we completed a ten day residential retreat at the ToDo Institue in Vermont. There were two exercises that we completed during the retreat that have stayed with me over the past ten years. The first one was that I had to spend the entire day without saying the word “I”. That’s enough to freak a person out. Anyway, the exercise relevant to this rambling is the exercise where we wrote our own eulogy and then had to lie in a make shift coffin (with a sheet over us) while someone read our eulogy. I recognize this might sound freaky. But honestly, it was really powerful. What would your eulogy say?

Would your eulogy say that you were not afraid to open your heart? Would it say that you weren’t scared to be compassionate? Would it say that you were “devoted” to your job or devoted to seeing love in everyone you met? Are you living the live you want? Are you acting in accordance with your values, with what you believe? Have you prioritized in a way that allows you to do what you love? Are you surrounded by people you love? Are you living a life of obligation?

We are given the opportunity in our yoga practice to be in savasana (corpse pose) at the end of our asana practice. I realize that sometimes we see this as resting, or recovery from a strong practice. It seems to me that if we use it as rest and/or recovery, we are missing a great opportunity to become more and more intimate with death. This doesn’t need to be morbid. It could be a reminder that the body will die. It will die. It could serve as a reminder that who you are inhabits a body or that your body is the vessel that houses your soul. It could be a reminder that every moment is fresh and the moment before this one died, it doesn’t exist anymore except in our memory. It could be a reminder that the present moment is all that exists. It could remind us that we get to start over and over and over every moment.

We can be grateful that we have a yoga practice that allows us to see past these bodies we live in.

FACE IT, THE SPARK IS IN THERE

2008-12-21T21:36:00.002-06:00

When she spoke about Sudan she said “it’s really not about the places, it’s about the faces.” He said to me “maybe you could just take this response you are having at face value.” I read about “facing” emotions. The song says “turn and face the changes.”

If you combine all of those statements and live from them, you have someone who values relationships, is able to live with people without always looking for something lurking underneath, is able to face what is present and know that everything changes.

Is it possible faces could be the billboard we have all been looking for, the sign, the reminder of how to live our lives. Could it be that all we have to do is look in people’s eyes and we will see truth?

Have you ever heard anyone say that when we are with people they reflect back to us what we are projecting out into the universe. Shoot. That means when we see something ugly in someone else, it’s really our ugly we are looking at. It also means when we see some irritating habit, we are actually looking at some version of our own irritating self. So, if I am with you and you tend to look at the world “half empty” it will only irritate me if I have the tendency to look at the world “half empty.” This would also mean if I look at you and see pure, calm, love that I am actually seeing myself. Your eyes are the beautiful pools of clearness that reflect back to me that I am pure, calm, love.

Is it possible that I can only see you as pure, calm, love if I see myself that way. It would work that way, right? If I see in you my reflection then I’d better see myself as love. If I see myself as crazy and neurotic and irritating and not worth much, then watch the heck out….i’m gonna see that in you. Yuck!

When is the last time you actually looked at someone directly in the eyes. Was it moving? Did you see yourself? Did you see love? I don’t mean romantic love. I mean unwavering, unchangeable, unflappable love. I mean the love that is you, that is me. The love that is everyone, even our enemies, even the people we can’t stand….the people we can’t stand to love.

Vince and I have this great ten minute video called “It’s in everyone of us.” The video is ten minutes of people's faces. I believe "it" is in everyone of us. I believe this "it" is love. I believe this is true. I believe love is in everyone of us. Is us. Take a look. Look in your mirror…or the person who is sitting across from you. The spark is in there. It never leaves and there are no exceptions.

Check out the song on Itunes…It’s In Everyone One of Us by Dennis Young

Addicted to Achievement

2008-12-16T17:47:00.003-06:00

I read the Underachiever’s Manifesto over the weekend and realized I am an addict. Addicted to achievement. I am so addicted to achievement I may need some sort of meeting. Do they have a 12 Step group for this? Really.

I am wondering how good of an underachiever I could be? Funny, but not really that funny.

This past fall someone mentioned to me that I’m human. Oh. Of course I am. I am not so narcissistic that I believe I’m perfect. But then I do that “exception thing” in my head. Does that sound like an addict or what? In my head it goes like this….”well, I am human, but I should be better, know better, do better, expect more from myself…”. When I am following the ridiculous line of thinking in my head I absolutely expect myself to be perfect. You can imagine the suffering that comes when I have a pimple and a bad hair day and I’m grumpy and I’m 4 minutes late to a meeting and I forgot to pick up Vince’s medicine and I haven’t talked to my Mom in a week and I realize I am still not perfect. This is exhausting.

The author of the Underachiever’s Manifesto suggests:

“The word perfect shouldn’t even be in the underachiever’s vocabulary. To seek perfection is to be cursed to find fault in the perfectly adequate, enjoyable, or even just plain good….it’s pursuit is the driving mania of the overachiever….frighteningly easy and almost inevitable to push things past good to the neurotically overworked, the belabored, and the endlessly second guessed. If something is worth doing at all, sometimes it’s worth doing it half-assed.”

Let’s just say that last line is not the motto I grew up with. The innocent message “do your best” translated in my mind as “be perfect.”

I am going to permanently erase the word perfect out of my vocabulary. I will do it perfectly. Really. I am going to take a yoga teaching sabbatical until August. I’m going to enjoy a calendar that is perfectly clear of a zillion activities. I’m going to be perfectly clear with boundaries. I’m going to underachieve. Really. The other way is making me nuts.

The author, Ray Bennett, suggests “If no one in your life thinks you’re failing to live up to your full potential, then you’ve got work to do.”

I hope the next time I see you, you will think I am not living up to my potential.

The Underachiever’s Manifesto
The guide to Accomplishing Little and Feeling Great
Ray Bennett, M.D.
Isbn-10 0-8118-5368-2

tired of tireless

2008-12-01T22:41:00.003-06:00

I have been working a lot lately. Day-job work, not yoga teaching work. I want to say that I believe whole heartedly in the work I do each day. I believe it helps the lives of kids and I believe it is worth wile. Having said that, I can also acknowledge the difficulty I am having keeping up the pace I expect of myself in this job.

One of the days I was gone in October, Vince said "it's the most beautiful day of the fall." I missed it. I was away for work. Recently I was in the car with a friend and she said "you multi-task better than anyone I know." OUCH! I spent the Thanksgiving holiday catching up on rest. In fact, Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend I didn't go hiking with Vince and our friends because I wanted some time at home to rest, read and...dare I say...recover. Ahh yes, recovering from this life I have been leading.

Today I ate lunch at my desk, in between meetings. I moved steadily, without a break from 8-4, drove to the studio and immediately began yoga teacher work till 8, cleaned up after classes, took messages, made a work call on the way home, made dinner while checking in with a friend who is sick, talked to friend while eating dinner, talked to vince for about 3 minutes, looked for vince's lost cell phone, answered 3 emails, texted a friend, texted my sister, and went to bed. It's 10:51 and now I have some time to write. The good news is I have been breathing all day. Consciously breathing. But seriously, who lives this way? Who lives this way on purpose?

A few weeks ago I had lunch with 2 friends and I left realizing they don't feel crazy on the inside. I realized they don't live crazy. I realized I'm livin crazy.

I have been asking myself and people close to me....what in the hell am i doing? What is all of this for? The tireless advocate for, well, for lot's of things..becomes tired. And then what? I move on and someone else will pick up the stick. Someone else will fill in. I realize there is a hint of narcissism in living life this way. A hint, if not a shout, of ego. Do I live this way because I don't believe other people are able, capable or willing? Do I live this way because I believe I hold the key? Ugh. That is so icky and although I seem to live like that I don't believe that in my heart. I know so many people who are constantly advocating for kids and advocating for friendly and accessible yoga and yet I function as if it's just me...as if I am a separate entity functioning (that functioning word might be used loosely here) all alone in this world.

Yesterday, while "recovering" on the couch it occurred to me (again) that this constant desire, constant need, to improve myself and to improve the world is really missing the point. It isn't that growing or improvement is inherently bad or wrong, it's just that maybe it's used to escape being with the quiet. Maybe I'm afraid I can't be happy sitting on the couch watching the birds, or taking the dogs for a walk or living a quiet life. Maybe, ultimately I'm afraid of a life where I'm not constantly trying to make the world a better place. Maybe I don't trust in my bones that everything is okay, just perfect, the way it is. Maybe I don't really believe that the world is okay as it is. Maybe I am afraid of not making a difference, not being remembered. Maybe i have forgotten that Ami is just a personality, in a body, moving through space....as energy that is a part of everything and everyone...which is not separate...which doesn't need remembered...which doesn't need to leave a mark on the world.

a way, not "the" way

2008-11-30T20:36:00.002-06:00

What's a girl to do? So many different styles, teachers and rules. I think I found "a" way that makes sense.

"a" way, not "the" way

It can be a bit startling the first time (or maybe even the first few hundred times) you realize there are lots of different styles of yoga with lots' of different types of teachers with lot's and lot's of varying viewpoints regarding “real” yoga. After a while it can not only be a bit unnerving, but it can be a bit irritating. Different teachers all touting they know “the way”, the “right way”, the “sacred way”, the “way it was originally meant to be taught” or passed down, or whatever. In fact, the whole thing reminds me of my college boyfriend. He was a great person, he treated me well and he believed his way of believing in God was not only the right way, but the only way. In fact, he believed everyone who didn't believe like him was wrong. Not only in college, but even now, I can sometimes buy into such believing. In some ways, it is easier to go along with people who believe so blindly that they have the way. It's certainly easier to go along with it rather than question and find our own path.

The difference among yoga styles came up again for me as I attended the Sri Vatsa Ramaswami teacher training in May. It was mind blowing. The contrast between Sri K Pathabi Jois' Asthanga Vinyasa Yoga and Ramaswami's style called Vinyasa Krama really knocked me off the mat.

As I look back on the last four or five years I have devoted a lot of practice time and study time to Sri K Pathabi Jois' style of yoga practice, called Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga. In this sometimes called “gymnastic” like practice you move through a series of poses in the same order, with a strong breath practice and your heart rate gets up. It is not uncommon to sweat buckets and finish the practice in a pool of water on your mat. All of this internal heat that is created is said to help detoxify the body. When I was first introduced to the practice, I threw myself into it with all of my might. I continued to teach other forms of yoga, but Ashtanga was my love. Some might say my obsession. In my opinion, the practice seems to lend itself to this obsessional quality. Maybe because it is so challenging and maybe because it takes such dedication and devotion. Maybe it gets this type of reputation because so many Type A personalities are drawn to this style of practice. It seems to catch the people who's minds don't settle down in a slower paced sort of practice and it seems to catch the people who are interested in a work out. As they said on the Seinfeld show “not that I think there is anything wrong with that.” Really. I don't. Seriously.

Although I have made some effort, I have never had the opportunity to meet Sr K Pathabi Jois but understand he has kind eyes and a gentle smile. I understand people's desire to travel at great lengths to see him and practice with him. I used to dream about going to Mysore India for a month or two to practice with him. I think this dream began to fall apart when I realized how much ego was tied into that plan. Wouldn't people think I rocked if I went to study with Sri K Patthabi Jois? Wouldn't it be cool to say...wouldn't my physical practice shift with 60 days of mysore practice in mysore. Wow, I might more easily put my foot behind my head. Wow.

So, there I sit in front of Sri Vatsa Ramaswami. It was my second time seeing him in person. The first time was four or five years ago when I attended a half day workshop. The half day was a bit frustrating because I had a difficult time understanding his accent and I couldn't fully do all of the postures (needless to say this was very early on the yoga path). So, anyway, through a series of events it seemed time for me to try seeing Ramaswami again. Everything seemed to fall in place and I was able to take the time off work and spend seven days in chicago for the training. I spent that week studying with RamaSwami in the same studio where I have attended numerous Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga workshops.

As I arrived for the first class, there were two students in the hallway and we began waiting for the studio to be unlocked. In arrives Sri Vatsa Ramaswami. He is an older gentleman with beautiful brown skin and kind eyes. He is quiet and unassuming. He wore gray dress pants, a white cotton long sleeved shirt (untucked) and a thin sweater vest. I introduced myself and told him how glad I was to meet him and have this opportunity to study with him. He responded kindly and then was silent. No idle chit chat. No talk of the weather, of his flight from India, of his anything, of my anything.

Silence. We continued waiting for about ten more minutes. This quiet, unassuming manner was consistent throughout the week. He taught standing in front of the room, barefoot and in the same (or similar) clothes he had on in our first meeting. He didn't make jokes, he didn't add commentary to the practice, he concisely instructed us with a compassion and kindness seeping through his pores. During our breaks he would quietly walk to the entryway and sit on the bench. He would respond when asked a question and would otherwise sit. Just sit.

The week consisted of lots of asana practice, more pranayama practice than I have ever done and more chanting and talk of the sutras than I have ever had the opportunity to study. Ramaswami said things like “yoga is not a work out...go to the gym to work out and then practice your yoga.” He talked about the importance of NOT getting our heart rate up when we practice yoga. He noted that historically the belief in yoga is that our lifespan is determined by the number of breaths we take, therefore we don't want to be panting through our practice because ultimately it would shorten our life. Ramaswami also talked about practicing asana practice seven days a week, even on full moon and new moon days. He said not to study the vedas on the full moon and new moon days. Any time Ramaswami noticed people getting too hot or not breathing steadily he would have us rest on our backs.

WHAT? What is happening? How can this be? How can this cool as a cucumber teacher who studied with Krishnamacharya (the father of yoga as we know it) for thirty three years have such a wildly different approach to yoga than say Sri K Patthabi Jois who also studied with Krishnamacharya? It's maddening. How can they both be right? Doesn't someone have to be wrong? Don't I have to pick?
Can I practice both? Can I teach both? Is this world about to come tumbling down?

Ramaswami never once said anyone else or anything else was wrong. He never once used another style to compare to the practice he was teaching. He never said other practices weren't as good. He never said his practice was good. He didn't say his practice was “right” or “the way”. He never once did anything other than provide instruction in a clear and concise manner stating it was exactly as his teacher taught him. He provided little physical adjustments but offered verbal instructions when necessary and useful. He quite obviously practiced what he taught...moderation in speech so not to excite the senses. Slow, steady and deep.

During the time I was in Chicago for the training I didn't pop Ibuprofen. The hamstring, piriformis issue I have been having after doing forward bends didn't bother me once l week. I didn't have trouble sleeping. I didn't wake up sore or agitated. I didn't once ponder the idea of skipping out of part of the training. The mind felt even and steady. There wasn't a lot of mental activity. Time seemed to move slowly. I didn't find myself obsessing over the difference between my body and my neighbor's body. In fact, there seemed to be an exceptional amount of space. Something was different.

So what does all this mean? Maybe it means nothing. Maybe it means I have had the great fortune to meet an amazing yoga teacher. He exuded yoga. He likely unknowingly helped me question a pattern of beliefs I had bought into about the practice and he deepened and widened my understanding of yoga. After the week I see more clearly that I can practice different styles of yoga. In addition to Ashtanga Vinyasa, I can also practice a style of yoga that is both challenging and complete and different from what I have known for the past five years. He helped me see that my needs and interests change and that they may change again. He inspired me to study, he inspired me to practice and he inspired me to live in this life with less suffering. Maybe it isn't “the” way but “a” way.

Freedom from Fragility

2008-11-30T20:34:00.001-06:00

Are we all fragile? What keeps us from breaking emotionally?

FREEDOM FROM FRAGILITY

Ingrid Michaelson sings: “Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts? Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts...we are so fragile and our cracking bones make noise…we are all just breakable girls and boys….”

Have you heard the “cracking bones” lately? Have you noticed how fragile we all seem? Human fragileness has been on my mind lately. Sometimes I feel so fragile, so sensitive. Sometimes it looks like we live in a world where we are fragile, where our feelings are hurt easily, where we hold grudges and where we shut down and stop communicating with one another. If we recognize our own fragileness, then why can’t we more easily see how fragile everyone else is and find forgiveness behind the cage of rib bones and various parts?

Until recently, I don’t believe I had a very mature understanding of forgiveness. I had been hoping I could stumble into some wise answers. I had been hoping to meet some wise counsel who could walk me through a gate of heavenly forgiveness or bump into some old, wrinkled yogi with a long beard who could point me exactly to the spot inside myself where this answer lies. I did bump into a yogi with wise counsel, but not a wrinkled, long bearded yogi.

On the surface, I do believe yoga asana practice has helped me to learn to be forgiving of this body, at least sometimes. Sometimes I am fabulous at greeting an ache or a pain with an enormous amount of compassion. It’s a sort of forgiveness for not being perfect, or better said, not being the way I would like it to be. I have definitely learned that if I resist the reality of this body more suffering will occur. I have gone almost six months without practicing a full forward bend. When this painful ache first began to appear I would back off. Then I would push. Then I would back off. Then push. Then feel exasperated. Then lay off. Then try again. Then I figured it out. Lay off the forward bends and practice something that would feel good. Months without struggling and months of healing occurred. Now, the forward bend is feeling pretty yummy.

I was recently with a yogi who said she was having a hard time getting over something another person had said to her. It sounded as though she wanted to move on, but couldn’t. She seemed stuck. She seemed like she didn’t know how to forgive. This stuckness was keeping her from being able to take part in something she seemed to want to take part in. I wonder what would have to happen for there to be movement in this situation. How can we forgive someone when that someone doesn’t have the slightest clue that they may have had something to do with that crackling noise in our bones?

Shortly after this, I was with another yogi who was talking about some significant pain their partner had created, and was continuing to create in their family. This yogi was in so much pain. This yogi said aloud how much desire there was to forgive, but the mind was involved at such a level that the struggle seemed to this person like it might never end. Will this yogi find forgiveness behind the ribs and other parts that protect the heart? Is there such a thing as un-forgiveable?

Haven’t we all been there at one point or another? Haven’t we all believed that there was “too much water under the bridge” or too much time had passed or words or actions couldn’t be taken back. Haven’t we all believed we couldn’t change or someone else couldn’t change? Haven’t we all believed it was just too late to change our minds and forgive or see something in a different light?

When I was a freshman in high school my maternal grandfather died. It was such a loss. My grandparents lived about ten miles from us and were huge part of our day-to-day lives, especially my grandfather. He was the kind of grandfather who brought donuts to our house every Saturday morning of my childhood so he could watch cartoons with us. He watched us open our Santa Claus presents at 6 in the morning. He had the amazing ability to help each of us (my brother, sister and I) shine in our own ways. He was cuddly and loveable and available. He was present with us. So, following his death there was some conflict that seemed to be un-resolvable between my mother and maternal grandmother. Due to this conflict, the relationship with my maternal grandmother was severed. I always believed severed for good. I mean no relationship. None. Zippo. No contact. I mean missing all three of your grandchildren graduate from high school, college and graduate school. I mean missing your two granddaughters walk down the aisle. I mean missing all four of your great grandchildren come into this world. Nineteen years, yep nineteen years of no contact, and then…there was a shift. There was forgiveness between mother and daughter. There wasn’t too much water under the bridge after all.

There have been times when I have caused some pain or a lot of pain and wanted desperately to be forgiven. There have been times I have believed whole heartedly that I had done damage beyond repair. I couldn’t imagine forgiving myself, never-the-less someone else forgiving me. How do we decide to forgive ourselves for our imperfections and other people for theirs? Is it even possible to forgive other people if we can’t learn to first forgive ourselves?

Sometimes I wonder if the things I believe other people need forgiven for are really about me. For instance, if I am angry with someone for trying to bully me, I wonder if I need forgiven for having bullied someone else. Or, if I am upset with someone for not communicating with me about a concern, maybe that person doesn’t need forgiven, but maybe I need to be forgiven for all of the times I have been a poor communicator. As I think about it, most of the time there is something about my own junk that is stinking up a stilted forgiveness of someone else.

I have recently begun working with a woman who assists me in the practice of inquiry. This is the Byron Katie form of inquiry. You take a look at beliefs (or thoughts that you are clinging to which result in suffering) and determine if they are true, I mean really know in your bones without a doubt true. There is a part of this inquiry process where you “turn around” your belief to see if it could be true or truer. Well, let me tell ya, there can be a bit of a punch with such work. So, for instance, let’s say I’m walking around this planet believing you should respect me. Well, okay, I would like that to be true, but well, I can’t really know that is true that you should respect me. So, turn the belief “you should respect me” around and the statement is “I should respect you” or the turn around could be “I should respect me.” How could that be true or truer. Hmm. Or here is another one….I believe what you said is disrespectful and doesn’t honor my experience. Okay, so is it true? I believe what you said is disrespectful and I do believe you don’t honor my experience. Is it really true? Can I know in my bones that you don’t honor my experience or that what you said is disrespectful? Hmm. Nope. Can’t really know it. Can have a belief about it, but not know it. The turn around…”what I said is disrespectful and doesn’t honor your experience” or “I don’t respect what I say and I don’t honor my experience.” How could either of those turn arounds be true or truer than the original belief. Let’s just say they could be way true or truer.

Recently I was given the gift of watching a yogi find forgiveness of a transgression that could have ended a long and very loving relationship. The forgiveness came from the heart and not the mind. I was able to witness someone genuinely live from their heart. It is a moment I will never forget. I believe I witnessed someone demonstrate their enlightenment. As Eckhart Tolle says “Enlightenment means choosing to dwell in the state of presence rather than in time. It means saying yes to what is.” Observing this showed me that on the surface, we may seem fragile, but underneath the bones and parts, there is strength to forgive that is stronger than we can imagine.

I don’t believe I am done walking this path of learning about forgiveness. I continue to learn how to forgive myself and other people. This practice has helped me see there is always a bigger picture. When I use the practice of inquiry I end up recognizing my own freedom..freedom from believing who we are is fragile, freedom from suffering, freedom from identifying with thinking, freedom to live in forgiveness, freedom from the belief that I am separated from the love that I am and that you are. There is this resting in love that isn’t fragile and that can’t ever truly be broken, even if we are just girls and boys.

“The Power of NOW 52 Inspirational Cards” Eckhart Tolle ISBN 1-57731-219-8
Ingrid Michaelson’s song is Breakable on the Girls & Boys Album
Byron Katie’s website is www.bryonkatie.com or www.thework.com

Really? All we can do is keep breathing?

2008-11-30T20:33:00.000-06:00

This is it? Really? There's nothing else to do other than keep breathing?

Can you get over the disappointment that all we can do is keep breathing... right now?

The minute it came out of my mouth I could see the disappointment in her face. I told her the truth. I told her….I got a tattoo. Seriously, I saw disappointment. This summer I have seen the look of disappointment in so many people’s eyes. Not about my tattoo, but about life. Disappointment seems to be part of the fabric of our lives. What do we do with it? Where do we store it? Do we need to try and overcome it, get rid of it, live with it, carry it around with us?

What if your entire childhood you thought you were going to be a doctor and then you couldn’t get into medical school? What if you thought you were going to run the marathon and you couldn’t run any longer? What if you get hit by a car and spend the rest of life in a wheelchair? What if after thirty years of marriage you are no longer attracted to your partner, physically or emotionally? What if you thought you were going to travel after you retired only to find out you were terminally ill the week after your retirement party? What if you desperately want to have a baby and can’t get pregnant? What if you put every cent you ever saved into a home on the coast only for it to be wiped away in a hurricane? What if your child is born with a serious illness? What if your partner changes dramatically after the kids are born? What if you realize after the kids leave for college that you no longer like each other? What if the person you married develops a mental illness that changes their entire personality?

How are we going to live? How are we going to move forward? How are we going to live our lives with holes in our hearts? How are we going to live with dashed dreams and disappointments?

Maybe we could use Leonard Cohen’s famous quote as our mantra…“There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in.” Will the recognition that we all walk around with this crack help us? Will just knowing we all have this in common keep us putting one foot in front of the other? Can we see life’s disappointments in a bigger context? Can we recognize disappointment as just part of the whole rather than the whole?

Sometimes we may need someone to tell us to get up, get out of bed, get in the shower and move on. Sometimes we may need to stay in bed. Sometimes we may need a few hours, a few days, maybe even years to let allow the patchwork to dry so we can learn to love the life we have been given. Suffering happens when we resist reality, when we resist the life we are leading.

If we try to dive a bit deeper, what is disappointment? Maybe disappointment is simply resisting what is. Can there be disappointment if we don’t have any expectations? If we are living in the moment then there would be no expectation of future events and there would be no need to carry around what happened in the past. Is it possible to feel disappointed if we are accepting everything and everybody just as they are?

If we are accepting everything and everybody, then we would get the letter saying we weren’t accepted into Harvard and we wouldn’t have expected it to be any different that it was. We would we would run to prepare to race in the marathon without expecting to run in the marathon. There would be moments of attraction to your partner of thirty years and moments of not being attracted to your partner of thirty years. There would be life together without the expectation of it being different and there would be opportunity to choose, in the moment, what to do if something needed to be done. You might have purchased the house in Florida, but you wouldn’t expect that you would get to live there. You might plan to travel after retirement, but there would not be the expectation that it would happen. If your partner changes into someone you don’t like after the children are born, you would recognize the change and decide what you needed to do. If you were unable to become pregnant, there would be the understanding there are other options. There would be the understanding that everything is as it should be and that no matter the external circumstances, we can be at peace on the inside.

It seems that it is part of life to walk around with expectations. Sometimes we are aware of them and sometimes we aren’t. Likely, we become more aware of them when extreme suffering happens as a result of them. Maybe our spiritual practice isn’t about aiming for a life without expectations, but rather aiming towards a life of recognizing when we aren’t living in the moment and when we are constructing expectations in our mad monkey minds. Maybe it’s about recognizing that when we are attached to those expectations, we suffer. I believe it is human nature to grieve when we have been attached to some hope or dream that is lost. If there is a grief, there is grief. This isn’t about not grieving or denying our feelings. It’s not about being perfect. This is about doing the best we can and suffering as little as possible. This is about living in freedom.

Sometimes when we are disappointed we may need to take some sort of action. We may need to apply to a different college, we may need to seek marriage counseling, we may need to look at adopting a child. We need to find a way to love what is. Eckhart Tolle has said: ”Wherever you Are, Be There Totally. If you find your here and now is intolerable and it makes you unhappy, you have three options: remove yourself from the situation, change it, or accept it totally. If you want to take responsibility for your life, you must choose one of those three options, and you must choose now. Then accept the consequences. “

We only have now. Are you going to be at peace and free from suffering? We really don’t have to know that much. It’s really not as complicated as I tend to make it in my life. There are moments when I don’t have expectations and there aren’t disappointments. In those moments I am present to whatever is happening and there isn’t suffering. There are moments I am so stuck in my head, thinking about the future and/or the past and I have an expectation, a belief about how things should be. If that belief doesn’t match up with reality, then suffering occurs. Sometimes buckets of it.

Let’s wake up to right now. Let’s wake up and recognize we are breathing and that all there is is right now. As Ingrid Michaelson sings…” All that I know is that I’m breathing. All I can do is keep breathing. All we can do is keep breathing. Now. Now. Now. “

Can someone please stunt my spiritual growth?

2008-11-30T20:31:00.000-06:00

Really! If it means being fake, could you please knock me off the spiritual path?

Please, can someone stunt my growth?

I have been feeling a crazy, nutty amount of sadness about one of my best friends moving to another city. She is so much a part of my life that I can’t imagine how life will be without her ten minutes away. At the risk of sounding dramatic, it feels like a piece of me is moving with her. I began grieving this loss the moment she told me about her move. I grieve as I write this, and she hasn’t moved yet. In fact, she is fifteen minutes away getting her hair colored this very second. She is getting her hair colored and I am grieving that she is moving next month.

Does this make any sense? I have had moments of intense grief over future possibilities lost. But, really, is it insane to grieve something that hasn’t happened yet? I wonder if underneath somewhere I believe that if I armor up and prepare for future grief if it will be less painful. Nothing like that good old fear-of-intense- emotions rearing it’s non-stop ugly head. I wonder what I am blocking out of my life right now by thinking about and grieving something that hasn’t even happened.

So about a month ago, I shared with a fellow yogi my sadness about my friend moving. This person is in no way someone who would intentionally invalidate my emotions. In fact, I think the response was one very much intended to be comforting. Having said that, the response to my declaration of sadness was “you know, every thing is an opportunity for our spiritual growth.” Seriously, after the initial processing time passed, I wanted to deliver a swift punch right to said yogi’s face. Just for the record, I didn’t. If spiritual growth means that I don’t get to experience the rich (and sometimes painful) feelings of sadness, anger, remorse, jealousy, joy and exhilaration, then please, someone stunt my spiritual growth.

I think for me, looking at every thing, every event, every moment as a growing opportunity can be useful. I do believe every moment is an opportunity to recognize I am not separate from Source, I am no different than you or our dog Bear at this core. I also think we can use our so called spiritual practice as a way, a mighty fabulous way, of shoving all kinds of gnarly crap under the rug. It can be a great way to avoid looking at and experiencing our own humanity, or lack of it. Being human can be so complicated and so messy sometimes. Sometimes don’t you want to hide under the down comforter in a dark room and have someone stand at the foot of the bed and witness your absolute, pure suffering? It’s as if sometimes we just need someone to see us, really, really see us. Sometimes we just need someone to look us in the eyes and acknowledge the pain and suffering that life can present. I think it might be one of the most genuine, intimate, authentic, kind acts we can do for another being. Without this, our world, our connections with one another, aren’t more than about an inch deep.

I recognize spiritual platitudes are meant to be helpful. I also recognize I don’t want to live in a world full of shallow sayings. It’s sort of like that trite saying we yoga teachers sometimes say: “no ego.” Well now really, how possible is it to leave your ego in the shoe rack? Isn’t there some ego involved in teaching yoga? Isn’t there some ego in practicing yoga six days a week? Some ego involved in trying to stand on your hands and drop back into some sort of crazy back bend? I’m not saying teaching yoga is bad or practicing yoga a zillion hours a day is bad or trying to stand on your hands is bad. I’m just saying, let’s don’t try to pass it off as “spiritual” and without ego if it isn’t. Let’s don’t hide behind our spiritual practice. Let’s jump in and get muddy. Let’s feel what we feel and shake out the rug, let’s step into the fire of intense emotions, let’s witness our own and others pain & joy. Let’s live with fewer platitudes and more practice at being present for our selves and other beings. Maybe that’s the definition of spiritual practice.

just this moment

2008-11-30T20:30:00.001-06:00

I used to believe this moment was going to tell me what the next moment was going to look like. I thought wrong.

One of my new favorite things to do is sit in our bedroom with the window open and listen to the wind chimes. During the daytime, I can see the bird feeders in the front yard. Birds seem to float so effortlessly to the exact right spot, at the exact right time. I was recently with one of my best friends from elementary school. She and I were telling our other friends about the book Eat Pray Love. My friend began to talk about how much she enjoyed the book, but she just didn’t believe that life can fall into place the way it did for the author of this book. She thought it seemed a bit too effortless. This conversation with my friend and the birds, got me thinking about effortlessness….

After the accident last summer, something did seem to change for me and it certainly didn't feel effortless. I think it would be too cliché to say that I realized life could change in a flash. However, I did begin to feel a shift. It’s difficult in some ways to say it was directly related to the accident.

Two months after the accident, my professional life began to change, again. The shift could have been related to the change in my job. A welcome and very exciting change in my job. Different responsibilities, different things to learn, new people to meet, fairly frequent travel to Chicago. The changes meant juggling things with owning the studio, less attention to the growth of the studio, less time with vince, and the feeling of my energy being split in a lot of different directions. I am not in a position at my job where there is a ladder to climb, so it hasn’t been about moving up or moving anywhere. It has been about doing the best I can and learning as much as I can from the amazing people I get to meet and grow alongside. However, as my energy became focused on the day job, I could tell the studio was suffering. There is something powerful about seeing something you have birthed suffer.

I began to talk with Vince about closing the studio. I began to talk about selling the studio. I began to feel resentful of the time it was taking me to do basic things like get water and chocolate. A sense of overwhelm began to accompany me most everywhere. A sense of overwhelm that sticks around must be some sort of messenger. At least for me. So, I have lunch with a dear friend who I can show my vulnerable, grouchy, bitchy, sad, overwhelmed self. During lunch, my phone rang at least six times. At that lunch I decided to begin looking for a buyer for the studio. I felt resistance. I could also feel myself move one foot out the door.

Vince suggested he could begin to help more. He suggested hiring an assistant. I resisted. I was angry that a suggestion came so late in the mental development of this plan. I had become closed off to possibilities. Closed the door completely. After the fall-chicken-in-the-parking-lot-sale I had a group of friends over for what the Quakers call a clearness committee meeting. It was my version of a clearness committee. I invited people who were close to me who could ask me questions and help me find clarity about whether or not to sell/close the studio. Seven people sat in our living room asking me questions. What became crystal clear was that I was crispy and some change needed to happen. I needed a break. I needed space. I needed help. I decided with their support that I was going to sell the studio.

The following day, I called the landlord and told him the news. I called the attorney and began the paperwork. I called the Alexander technique teacher in Champaign. I told the teachers, each individually. I told them I wasn't looking for partners, I was looking to get out. I was looking to practice more and teach. I called the person I know in the community who I thought would be a great studio owner. I had serious conversations with a serious buyer. I had a few conversations with some other yogis. These other yogis had a few suggestions of things to think about. They offered total support. I accepted the support and resisted the suggestions. For some reason, I followed up on the suggestions. I followed their suggestions and found myself having a conversation with another possible buyer. I found myself thinking about having partners. I found myself in the kitchen telling vince maybe something was shifting. Again.

Shit! Things weren't suppose to be shifting. I had made up my mind! I was selling. I didn't want to pay attention to the shift. I didn't want possibilities. I wanted to be done. I found myself meeting with multiple people about a group partnership. I found myself having feelings I didn’t expect. I found myself shifting. Not all at once. But with each step I was wanting to wrap things up and with each step something was getting clearer. I didn’t want clarity. I wanted closure. What’s a girl to do when what becomes clear is that it’s not time for closure. Time for there to be space in and between conversations. It’s time to not rush, to not push. I kept telling vince I wanted this wrapped up in a nice tiny box with a really pretty ribbon. The more effort I put in, the more I pushed, the worse it felt. There were entire weekends of crying and feeling sick. There were entire weekends of no energy. There was a heaviness in my heart.

After some space and some time, clarity came. Not just to me, but to other people. I wasn't pushing. I began to feel better. I began to feel more like myself. I began to speak from the calm inside and out came words and ideas that were clear and focused. I began to feel more comfortable in my skin. The clarity of how this could work seemed to take on a life of it's own. A life of it's own, rather than my own. An arrangement fell into place that seemed to fit, effortlessly. It was the same effortlessness that was present when we opened the studio.

As I look back I recognize there are moments I wish there could be “do-overs.” Moments where I wish I would have spoken with more clarity and with more humility. I realize I wish I could erase some of the difficult conversations and moments. There were moments that I know were hard for me and for other people. I suppose this is where having compassion for myself and for other people at the same time can be quite beneficial. It can be a time of remembering that we are all doing the best we can, living with the most integrity that we can muster up and with the best intentions that we know.

One of the most surprising things for me is how clear I felt at the beginning of this process. It felt so clear, so not-forced and yet it isn't what ended up being the answer. I suppose what this has taught me is that if we are open to each moment what is clear this moment might not be the same the next moment. Growth and change happen if we allow it. As Michael Singer says in The Untethered Soul “Let your spiritual path become the willingness to let whatever happens make it through you, rather than carrying it into the next moment.”

the fifth limb

2008-11-30T20:28:00.000-06:00

The fifth limb of the yoga sutra took on a whole new light after being with Sri Vatsa Rama Swami.

And now he says we will practice pratyahara, sense withdrawal. As we kneel with a straight spine we place our thumbs in our ears, our index and middle finger over our closed eyelids, the tip of the index finger gently touches the nostril and our baby fingers point to our mouth. He assures us we will hear him tell us when we are finished. I begin the practice. Initially I am distracted by some discomfort in the shoulders and then a sense of panic arises. There is only the sound of, the sound of nothingness. I feel freaked out and I begin to secretly release my thumbs so sound comes in and the panic disappears. Thumbs back in and panic is back. I can't identify the origin of the panic. Rationally I know there is no-thing to panic about... and yet there is panic. I sit quietly the rest of the practice. Seven days of this practice before I no longer feel panicky.

This practice of pratyahara, along with some pearls of wisdom about our senses from Sri Vatsa Ramaswami, has had me thinking and had me looking at the Yoga Sutra a bit more than usual. Withdrawal of the senses from their objects (or Pratyahara) is one of the eight limbs of yoga as noted in Patanjali's Yoga Sutra. It is actually the fifth limb. This limb comes after practices of self control, precepts for social harmony and self discipline, yoga poses and regulation of prana. It comes before contemplation of our true nature, meditation on our true self and being absorbed in our spirit.

As I listened to Ramaswami talk about not clogging our senses by reducing our involvement in what isn't necessary and showing moderation in food and communication, I wondered if this isn't the missing link for some of us. It pushes us to go way deeper than our asana (posture practice). It means whether or not we can put our foot behind our head, we have more challenging work ahead...minimizing our nervous chatter, being moderate in our consumption of french fries and cosmopolitans. Even more challenging might mean no longer being involved in what isn't necessary.

Can you even imagine what it means to no longer be involved in what isn't necessary? Where would an overachieving, social, on-the-go, hard-working being even begin with such a task. It's something I dream about...being less busy. Having more time on the porch to read and watch the birds on the bird-feeder. I long for days of not being asked to do anything, even fun things. It's such a complex longing because my feelings still get hurt when I'm not asked to do things! I do fantasize about how much simpler life would be if I lived in a cave. Sometimes I even talk aloud about living in a cave. Don't get me wrong, I love my family and friends. I even love my job and my co-workers. I love the studio and the other owners and the teachers and the students. And, sometimes I still long to live in a cave where there is no cell phone, no fax machine, no email and no one asking me for anything. This anything might include me helping someone with a task, it might entail me babysitting, it might mean going swimming, it might mean listening, hanging out, going on a shopping trip or having dinner. Now really, how completely selfish does it seem that I get invited to go shopping and it further pushes me to long for cave livin?

How do we change and simplify our lives and our calendars? What's gonna go? If you are a parent does it mean your child is not going to be in softball three nights a week during the summer? Does it mean you are going to give up the dance lessons, or the church group on wednesday nights. What if you have multiple kids. How's that gonna work? As an employee does it mean you are going to say no to your boss about staying late or to travel? Are you gonna stop going to yoga class three times a week? Will you give up your evening run? Will you tighten up the social circle and not see people you have sort-of been friends with for ten years? Will you say no to visiting your grandmother every sunday afternoon and calling your cousin from out of state once a week? How do we stop without a new zipcode to cave city? Isn't it all necessary?

How do we decide when to say no and what to say no to and who to say no to? How do we do this without harming? Without turning into a selfish, narcissistic monster? My friend's therapist once told her she needed to lower her expectations. Maybe that's the answer. Maybe we should just stop expecting periods of quiet, periods of time to sit on the porch and watch the birds determine which food to eat. Maybe, we should just keep a goin and keep a givin until we completely run out of gas. Then we can refuel and start going again. This option seems, sadly, more realistic than the other option. The other option is to change. The word makes me shudder.

One of Ramaswami's many pearls of wisdom seems to shed some light on this subject...”Yoga teaches us to do the opposite of what we do everyday.” Change is a comin, like it or not. I have spoken with lots of yogis about this exact same message. At David Swenson's teacher training a student raised her hand and said “how do people deal with the fact that the more you practice the more you don't necessarily want to spend time with your old friends?” I once had a friend say the liability waiver should have a warning on it that if you start down this path your life may really change. His life, his internal life had changed so much that it meant looking at a separation from his wife of many years.

Could all of this be as simple as learning to prioritize? Maybe we just need to read Stephen Covey's 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. Hmmm. If we follow the path of yoga and we use the Sutra as a practice manual it might become clearer that not relying on our senses will allow us find the answers we have been seeking. If we are relying on our senses as we live this life, then we are drawn to making more and more money, buying more and more material objects (this of course does not include sexy shoes), becoming more and more successful in our careers, and working harder and harder for approval. Hmmm again. For what? Do we really need more money? More material objects (again shoes excluded), more success in our jobs and more approval? Are these things going to reduce the suffering we experience before this bag of bones is no longer suitable to support us?

Maybe, just maybe, our yoga practice allows us to see clearly that change could equal relief. Maybe the change won't be radical, but gentle and kind and compassionate. Maybe we are honest when we say no to invitations. Maybe we can schedule in time to sit on the porch and do nothing. Vince and I are discussing the idea of setting aside a weekend every four months that we call our “retreat.” A weekend without email, phones and jobs that need finished. Maybe we can use this time to remind ourselves that we aren't, at our core, the friend who is being asked to go shopping, the friend who needs to listen, the sister being asked to babysit, the daughter who wants to go to doctor's appointments with her mother, the studio owner who needs to update the website and buy some more water, the teacher who wants to study and improve her teaching skills, the homeowner who needs to vacuum, the wife who is being asked to help with lunch, the daughter in law being asked to hang curtains, the neighbor being responsible for keeping up the yard, the employee being asked to return emails and the citizen who wants to give back to the community. As we practice the steps in the sutra, we become more and more aware of the nature of the true self and then the laundry list of roles and the pulling in five thousand different direction no longer even matters.

thoughts on scotch, yoga and quinoa

2008-11-30T20:27:00.000-06:00

What is completeness? Can scotch and quinoa help us find a way to live our yoga?

I recently purchased a good bottle of Scotch. I recognize how scotch and yoga connect is not immediately evident. Maybe it will never be evident. Anyway, a friend of mine was discussing a yummy bottle of scotch her husband was given for a birthday gift and I thought I should give it a try. I do love good scotch.

Drinking scotch requires some forethought. I need to plan ahead so I can carry out a deserving ritual. I don’t want to be in a hurry. I want to slow down and savor every second and every drop. I don’t want to waste it and I don’t want to waste our time together (me and the scotch). In fact, I like to drink it in good company. Preferably sitting down on the porch with time to enjoy the scotch and of course, the company.

I love the aroma when the bottle is opened. In fact, I love the smell of someone, actually anyone, who has been drinking scotch. And the color, oh the color. It is rich like liquid carmel. Silky carmel poured into a glass. A short, fat glass with ice, preferably crushed ice.

Now onto the pouring. Isn’t it amazing how it seems to pour out in slow motion, in a silky stream of sweetness. I am fascinated how it sticks to the sides of the glass like syrup. I am mesmerized by the crackling noise that leaves the edge of the glass as it is poured over the crushed ice. After the pouring, I like to swish it around so the syrup can make friends with the ice, seeping into the cracks. The perfect ice cube.

Typically, I like to take a drink before it begins to get watered down. Ahh, I love the burning sensation down my throat and the warmth that seems to float straight to my face. After the first drink I begin to feel my shoulder’s relax and my face soften. It’s as if the scotch takes a deep breath for me and sends some space in between the thoughts which take up so much space in my head. I am so relaxed, so warm and wish this experience would stay with me…

Oh, my head!! The alarm is going off and I need to be at work. I need to be at work early. I need to be clear and functional at work. I need to be connected with people in this life and not so fogggggy. I need to not be so distracted and not so clumsy. I am so clumsy the day after I have enjoyed…how can something so rich and yummy create such fog and disconnect? How can it create distraction and fog, clumsiness and fog, tiredness and fog, moodiness and fog? Maybe I need to set up some rules, some boundaries about enjoying scotch.

One time I heard someone say there is no reason to set up boundaries in our life, no reason for rules, boxes or categories. I am thinking this day after sharing the new scotch with Vince and my friends maybe that was some bad information. Maybe there are certain parts of our lives that need boundaries and limits.

What would the world look like without boundaries? If there had been limits would I be so tired tonight? Would I have a headache? Wouldn’t we all go to work late, speed on the highway, eat too much chocolate, blow off our yoga practice for a nap, drink scotch on a work night….uh oh. Hmm. It’s possible I have been breaking some rules.

Hmm. Upon more examination, the rules and boundaries are just imaginary aren’t they? Aren’t they just made up? I am so good at making up rules. I make up rules and then break them. What’s that about? I think you could say I excel at the rule making sport. Maybe, I mean I hate to rush into such a big statement, but maybe I am a gold medalist rule maker.
Questioning the rules makes rule following girls feel crazy and insane. Not following a rule sends rule-following girls to the edge of the cliff wondering what to do. A rule is a rule. Or is it? Maybe the rule is that there don’t need to be rules?

When I first met Vince he had a bumper sticker on his car that said “Question Authority.” It made me nervous. Seriously, it made me anxious. What does that mean “question authority? Why would we ever do such a thing. I think it meant the same thing as question the rules. Maybe the bumper sticker could have just said “Question.” Question with a capital Q. It is impossible to question all of these rules, inside and outside of my head. There are just too many rules to question and they are so detailed! It’s exhausting.

What if we had one big question? The mother of all Questions. The Mother of all Questions would make the questions about rules and limits and boundaries ultimately seems like child’s play. Seriously. Questioning rules about drinking scotch, going the speed limit and kissing Dr. McDreamy seem to be missing the point. If we stay stuck asking these questions we might stay on or in the eternal hamster wheel. If we ask the question of all questions, we might recognize there is no need for boxes, limits or rules or even other questions.

So what is the question of all questions? What is the question of the mother ship? It seems as though the capital Q question is “who am I” or “who is this I” and does this “I” need rules, boxes, limits, boundaries?

When I remember who I am the questions about whether to drink scotch, eat ice burg lettuce, eat too much chocolate or kiss McDreamy all seem irrelevant. They just don’t matter.
What? Have I lost my mind? Where is the rule followin' girl? Isn't she going to spin into outer space and find trouble without rules? Hmmm. Maybe not.

When I recognize who I am, who this “I” is that keeps being referenced, then all kinds of strings of attachment seem to snap away. Instead of feeling like “I” am a top spinning into the nether worlds, there is the ability to recognize that I am not separate, I am not these desires, these wishes, these neuroses, these character roles. Rules are just made up stories, made up by made-up characters. This is life, just life. There is the recognition that this is the play we are in and we are just playing our role. Sometimes the characters break rules and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes there is scotch drinking, meat eating and chocolatey dreams with mcdreamy. This is also life.

In this life there seem to be choices that can be made to decrease suffering. I know if lunch consists of a bowl of miso soup then the mind will be clearer in the afternoon than if it consisted of really spicy chili paste tofu or a big hamburger. I know if there is scotch in the evening I will likely wake up foggy, a bit moody, attached to the thinking in this head and clingy (wow, that sounds lovely to be around). Studying the sutras, chanting and reading texts seem to increase the odds that I am going to remember that I play the role, but I am not this role of yogi, yoga teacher, scotch lover, grant coordinator, social worker, wife, sister, daughter, friend.

If the body is fed well, if the body gets enough rest and enough yoga practice then we increase the likelihood we will rest in clarity, knowing who we are and that everything we need for enlightenment is right here and right now. It's the combination that the Sutra tells us creates more and more moments where we recognize who we are and the perfection of this, the completeness. We are complete, even if we love scotch, even if we get confused about who we are and even if we sometimes rely on imaginary external rules to help us out. We are the complete package, the complete package is here, the complete package is right now…we are all sort of like quinoa, the complete protein.

Bumps on the side of the road

2008-11-30T20:25:00.001-06:00

Have you ever thought you were an emotional wreck? What in the world does that mean?

What does it mean when someone says “I am an emotional wreck?” Or, why do some people believe women are more “emotional’ than men? Why do we judge not only our own emotions, but other people’s emotions? Why would I get to weigh in on whether or not your tears are authentic and whether or not you are showing “too much or too little emotion?” What would it really mean if someone said you seemed incapable of showing emotion or that you don’t show enough emotion? Can I get control of my emotions? Are they even ‘my” emotions?

As I reflect, I realize we need to see if we can pinpoint what exactly an emotion is made of….hmm. I can’t see my emotions. I can’t put them in a box. I don’t ever seem to have control over them. I don’t choose them. I haven’t mastered inviting them in and I certainly have never ever, ever mastered getting rid of them. They appear uninvited and typically their timing stinks. Emotions come and go, they sometimes seem to change from one minute to the next. Hmm. This doesn’t necessarily indicate something we should be using to guide our lives.

In therapy world there is a model called Health Realization. The essence of this understanding is recognizing mind, consciousness and thought in action. Mind being something bigger than ourselves, consciousness is what brings our reality to life and thought, everyone who is on their mat knows what thought is (think that voice in your head that tells you to push, back off, stay on the couch when you shouldn’t, stay on the mat when you should be on the couch, eat the 3rd piece of cake, etc.).

In this model, there is much focus on becoming aware of how thoughts come before emotions or feelings. Another way of saying this is that there is never a feeling without a thought coming beforehand, even if we aren’t aware of it. In addition, there is this component of recognizing that our thoughts come and go; that we don’t have control over them; that we don’t decide which one’s come in to our minds. This has been true in my experience. I don’t decide to have a string of neurotic thoughts arrive. I don’t decide to have “catty” thoughts about other people and I don’t decide to have self-defeating thoughts. They just arrive.

Now, I do realize this goes against everything we have all learned from Jack Handy on Saturday Night Live. Remember his skit? He is sitting in front of the mirror repeating to himself “I am good enough, strong enough, something enough..” He believed he could change his thoughts so that he could feel good about himself. In my experience, I can’t change my thoughts. I can try like hell, but I can’t change them. I also can’t change my feelings. Seriously, I have tried and it hasn’t worked, at least not for me. In my experience the more I try to change thoughts and feelings the stickier they become. Thoughts and feelings do change, but it’s not me changing them.

So, anyway, if our thoughts come before our feelings and we can’t control our thoughts and I can’t control my feelings, then why do I give them such importance? Why do I ever believe them? Why, why, why? Why do we have to give them meaning? Couldn’t thoughts and feelings just be thoughts and feelings? Couldn’t they just be present, part of our make-up? Couldn’t we just see them for what they are? What are they? Aren’t they concentrated forms of energy, getting more and more momentum the more we focus on them? Getting to be gargantuan when we resist them? Resist and they will persist. Focus on them, talk about them, stew about them and they grow like a brand new chia pet.

I had this teacher in my Health Realization training whose name was Keith. He is an amazing person. He is kind, gentle, funny, big and Texan. One time he talked about how useful feelings/emotions can be in our lives. He said they can be like the bumps on the side of the road that let you know you are headed into the ditch. When you are driving and you hear the tires hit the little bumps do you get out and see what they are made of, or how many there are? The bumps are like our emotions, they can give us a head’s up that we are caught up in our thinking mind, that we our following the never-ending winding road of our mind. We don’t need to know the gory details of them, we don’t need to analyze them, we just need to know that they are thoughts. I don’t know about you, but that never-ending winding road typically leads me into messy waters.

Okay, but what about people who don’t seem to know there are bumps on the side of the road, I mean people who don’t seem to have, show or know that they have any emotions. Sometimes we talk about people like this by saying “they really aren’t in touch with their emotions” or we say they seem to be “numb.” We all know people who numb themselves in some way. In my profession we call that “self-medicating.” Are they numb? Are they really without emotions? Hmm.

If you were driving your car and you had your radio turned up, you were on the phone, your kid was screaming and you were thinking about your over due visa bill is it possible you wouldn’t notice that you had run over a few of those bumpy signals on the side of the road? Is it possible that we have had an experience or experiences that we have resisted certain feelings and emotions so intensely that we have started driving while straddling the line of bumps? We might have become mistaken and believe that if we straddle the line we will be happier or that if we straddle the line the mad mind will stop spinning said thoughts and emotions. If we drive straddling the bumps we don’t really have to allow ourselves to experience/feel the messy, uninvited emotions. We can keep on this route. We can play it safe. Not really living the moments and not in the ditch. What we resist will persist and we will have to keep straddling the bumps. If we could just feel the messiness and see it for what it is we can get back to the center. Our center.

Early on in my yoga teacher training, I heard a yoga teacher talk about how emotional she became after she moved into a regular practice of backbends. Honestly, I thought she was completely full of it (that would be an example of Ami’s thinking). Right. So, as I began teaching and began to incorporate heart opening poses and backbends I had more and more students begin to talk to me about what was occurring for them during and after these practices. Then, I attended a training where the teacher had us do a zillion back bends. You guessed it. Later that week waterfall city. Stuff I thought I was over, was not so much over. A symbolic heart-ache following heart openers. Hmmm.

We do know the body is made up of energy. Right? Everything is made up of energy. In the yogic tradition we think of the energy in eight different centers of the body. These centers are called Chakras, or spinning wheels of energy. Each energy center is associated with a specific region in the physical body. So, if we did backbend after backbend after backbend, it would seem to open up the energy center around our heart, which would seem to bring more emotions to the surface? Hmm. Makes sense to me.

In addition to practicing backbends and other heart opener asanas, I think we all have our own ways of not straddling the bumps on the side of the road. These are other ways of opening up our hearts and experiencing the messy and oh so exquisite emotions we are capable of having as humans. For me backbends will do it, so will plugging in to my ipod and listening to some Bob Marley or listening to Yo Yo Ma play the cello suites. Heart opening also happens for me during writing, taking pictures, rubbing Vince’s feet while sitting on the couch, giving a thai massage, feeling the Mexico heat in July, hiking in the redwoods, riding on the train and looking at the gray landscape of an Illinois winter. For you it may be walking in the cold air with the sun on your face, it might be drawing, it might be working in the garden, teaching kindergarten, or watching your kids play in the park. It really doesn’t matter what it is. They are all just tools and opportunities to recognize what we are and what we aren’t.

I suppose what matters is that we know that we have thoughts and we don’t have to do anything about them. I suppose what matters is that we know we have emotions and we don’t have to understand them, do anything about them or get control of them. I suppose what matters is that we don’t resist, that we know we will be okay if we experience extreme emotions and crazy thoughts. I suppose what matters is that we know there are moments we have the opportunity to soak up being alive and to be open to the exquisite emotions we are capable of experiencing. I suppose what matters is that we remember we aren’t our thoughts or our emotions and to live fully, we don’t need to straddle the line on the side of the road.

No kidding, I couldn’t make this up (well, I probably could, but I am not making it up).. As I finished this essay, my ipod began playing Hearts Wide Open by Jon Smith. Check him out. The song is on his Traveler Cd. If you have an opportunity to ever see him in concert, he might just make your heart melt.

Arrows

2008-11-30T20:24:00.000-06:00

Do we choose to suffer?

I am sitting on my bed, using the window to support my back. An amazing spring sun is warming me as I recover from some sort of infection. I am grateful for it in some ways, the infection. I have been hoping for some quiet time where I could write and be underneath the down comforter.

I suppose in some ways I could suffer. I could be suffering because the body feels too bad to sleep, because I am not teaching tonight, something I love to do. I could be suffering because it is about the third warm and sunny day following what seems to be the world’s longest winter. I could suffer because I was hoping for a lengthy, sweaty practice today. I could suffer because I had to leave the elementary school girl friend reunion early because I wasn’t feeling well. I could suffer for all kinds of reasons, but instead, I sit here breathing out of my mouth, with a fever, not suffering.

A few weeks ago I was at lunch with Vince and our friend Andy and we began to talk about the concept of two arrows and the Buddha’s teaching on suffering. So the idea, as I understand it, is that the first arrow is something like an illness, or the death of a loved one, or an accident, or the loss of the job. The second arrow is the suffering that is created following the first.

So, let’s say this infection is the first arrow and if there were mental/emotional suffering it would be the second arrow. So, what is it this time that leads to this equanimity rather than suffering?

Equanimity seems to come with complete acceptance. I mean absolutely no arguing with reality and knowing who I am. Who am I? Am I this body with an infection? Am I Ami who every year has an infection about the first week of nice weather in the spring or the first gorgeous day in October? Or am I who is aware of this? There might be the experience of suffering, but I am, and you are, the one who ultimately doesn’t suffer from any type of arrows.

Do you know where you are going?

2008-11-30T20:22:00.002-06:00

Our lives can change in a split second. Don't fool yourself by thinking you know where you are going...

It was a sunny day. I had finished work with the school district for the summer. I had a few glorious days of complete quiet and alone time at my friends farm. I was rested. I had finished my initial weekend of thai yoga training and had completed ten massages in a week. If you had asked me that morning what the summer was going to look like, I thought I knew. I thought I was going to spend the summer practicing yoga, teaching yoga, practicing thai yoga massage and completing my thai yoga massage certification. It was going to be a summer with lots of rest and relaxation. There can be such arrogance in that type of knowing. Or is it ignorance?

I walked out of the house and got into my car. I had a little discussion in my head about which route to take to meet Vince for lunch. I took the route that I don’t usually take. I am driving along and everything changed (see previous essay regarding this subject). All at once I saw blue, felt the impact into the driver's side door and air bags deployed. I knew a few things very clearly. I knew to turn the car off. I knew to try to climb out of the passenger side door. I knew my hand and my hip hurt. Everything seemed to be moving very slowly.

A kind teenager helped me out the door and walked me to the curb. I saw people running to get me a chair. Someone helped me lie flat on the ground. A woman went and got my purse and then my phone. She came and sat with me. She helped me call vince, then calling vince for me. She talked about the Ganesh on my bag. An off duty EMT stopped by and checked on me. The Ambulance came. The police came. I was on a board with my head strapped. People carried me to the ambulance, police were asking me questions. I was breathing. I was breathing.

Inside the ambulance the technician put in an IV and then we sat, or laid, waiting. I don’t know if I was there for hours or minutes. I could feel myself begin to feel panicky. I could feel my breath get shallow and tears roll down my cheek. The EMT was doing something technical somewhere near my feet and asked me if I could calm down. I began to practice three part breathing. I focused on the up and down movement of my belly. I felt the breath begin to slow. There were moments where it was as though I was watching from above. The ambulance began to move. I could hear the sirens and feel the bumps. Lots of bumps. I began to realize how I had completely surrendered. I felt such gratefulness for the people who had been helping me.\

As I was carried in the emergency room I watched people watch me. Lots of people came in the room. Lots of people left the room. Everyone left the room. I was alone, strapped to a board in a cold room.

It seemed as if I had two choices, my monkey mind or my breath. I returned to my breath. I heard someone come in and begin typing. I couldn’t see who it was, but I knew I wanted someone to stand with me, to be with me. I asked. A nurse came in and I was able to ask for her to stand with me. She left the room. I returned to my breath. I focused on my breath for what seemed like forever. Everytime the mind began to wonder away from my breath, I b egan to feel panicky and upset. As soon as I would return to my breath, the calm would return.

Vince arrived. He saves me sometimes. Saves me from getting stuck in the temporary madness in my head. I needed saved from the spinning about what it would mean to have a broken hand and an injured hip. I began conscioulsy trying to relax my body. There were really clear moments recognizing that I could breathe into areas that felt tight. Once they told me I could move around, I began stretching, pointing, flexing. I could feel how the body had tensed and I wanted to begin to open those spaces. Xrays and wrapping a broken hand.

My parents arrived. I walk out with a broken hand. A broken right hand. As if we need reminders that we only get one body.

I saw the car. I knew the accident was serious, I was in it. When I saw the car I went directly into memory and into «what could have happened.» What use is «what could have happened?» Of course the mind wants to naturally take us there, it's juicy material to gnaw on. But is it useful?
I rested and wore the plastic crown Vince gave me. My hand was in a hard cast. I listended to music I found during yoga teacher training that I have consistently found to soothe me. I laid on the couch. I stretched and breathed while lying on my back, I stretched and breathed sitting up. I asked for what I needed, which sometimes hasn't been easy for me. I felt out of it and teary. I felt calm and centered. I felt needy and scared. I couldn't drive. I couldn't write. I couldn't type. I couldn't dry my hair or shave my left armpit.

I taught Mysore style yoga in a completely new way. I had to find more precise language. I couldn't do physical adjustments. A really fabulous teacher in Minnesota teaches from his wheelchair. Attachments to all kinds of ideas began to fall away. Some after I resisted, argued with reality and suffered. Some fell away effortlessly.

Vince and I went to my appointment with the surgeon. I was allready a week into my «six to eight week recovery» period. I felt confident he was going to take a look and confirm what the emergency room doctor had said. My expectation was that in six weeks I would be up and running as good as new. It hadn't occurred to me that he would say anything else. He did. I needed surgery and the sooner the better. Then the six to eight week recovery period would start. Or maybe it allready had. Maybe I had allready started to recover from my expectations and my beliefs and my habitual way of living from my head and living in «what's next» rather than right now.

On the way into the hospital before the surgery, Vince and I chanted the Gayatri Mantra several times. It was either fill the space with something that connected me to something higher or listen to that unbearable chatter appearing in my head. A friendly ashtangi yogi appeared as my surgical nurse. When I saw her it was as if I had won the lottery. The connections we make with other people are priceless.

The surgery went well. Following the surgery I was really sick from the anesthesia. I was completely helpless. I had to rely on other people. Lots of other people. I had to rely on my breath. Lots of breath. It is what we can count on while this body is working. The breath is there, in the ambulance, in surgery, on our mat.

As I look back over the last eight months I have had steady practice recognizing how I have needed to rely on other people and how I have relied on the non-physical aspects of yoga practice. I have learned first hand (so to speak) that the body heals on it's own time table and we either listen and get out of the way or hinder the process. I have learned that our lives change, our bodies change, our schedules change, our minds change, our emotions change and our yoga practice changes. I have learned that we might start the day thinking we are leaving for lunch and we might not make it there. I have learned that I never ever really know how the day is goiing to to or where I am headed. I have learned that I am not this body, but rather what is aware of this body. I have learned that never changes.

one yogi's version of a smoke break

2008-11-30T20:22:00.001-06:00

Sometimes I feel like I need a smoke break...or some kind of break.

Not that long ago I was sitting in my office and I had a vision of my head exploding. I could see it in full color in my mind. It was going to be loud and messy.

The message light on the phone was blinking, the phone was ringing, fifteen emails to return, a project due and a gargantuan meeting to prepare. This was related to my day job, not related to teaching yoga or managing the studio. I stopped long enough to realize that my breath was shallow and that I either needed to raid the chocolate dish outside the office door, begin smoking cigarettes, leave and take a nap or shut the door and do some yoga. My office mate was out of the office that morning and so I closed the door and rolled out the yoga mat I keep in the corner. I turned down the ringer and decided the next ten minutes were going to be my version of a smoke break (does anyone even get smoke breaks anymore?).

I turned on some soothing music and slipped off my shoes. It was really cold out that day, but the sun was shining directly onto my mat. I laid on my back for some three part breathing. I gave myself permission to move extra slowly and to move in whatever way felt good. After some gentle stretches I did a few energizing backbends and then headstand. I made sure to end with a twist and some relaxation time at the end. After savasana, I sat in seated meditation posture with the sun shining on my face. I felt like a cat who had found the perfect spot in the warm, safe house.

The practice time was about ten minutes. It felt like forty five. I no longer felt the need to raid the chocolate, take up smoking or leave for home to hide under the covers. I found myself working at a steady pace the rest of the day. I noticed I no longer felt the need to complain about being so busy and overwhelmed and I was again open to hear and connect with my co-workers.

I have a colleague who lives in Chicago who talks about his three rules to live and work by. The third rule is to remember your own humanity and the humanity of the person sitting across from you. Some days this practice allows me to follow rule number three. That’s way more than a cigarette break can provide.

do you prefer the window or the aisle seat?

2008-11-30T20:20:00.001-06:00

How is yoga helping us live more intimately? Are we connected? Are we living as love?

I have been listening to one of my favorite folk artists, Wil Marring. She has this great song where she says if she had life to live over again she would choose the aisle seat instead of the window. In the song she implies, at least in my perception, that living from the window seat means you might not be following your heart, or listening to fate, or taking chances. What’s funny, strange funny, not ha ha funny, is that I prefer the window seat. Hmmm.

I have been reading a book called Yoga of Heart the Healing Power of Intimate Connection. I should probably acknowledge that I have had at least one other yoga teacher give me an icky reaction about this book. I like lots in this book. Radical of me to be so open about my opinion. We don’t have to throw the baby out with the bath water, we can just drain the water.

So, I have had bubbles floating around in my head about yoga and intimate connection. At first, it seems like this might be a taboo subject. Is he talking about sex when he uses the word intimacy? Isn’t that what most people’s minds conjure up when they talk about or think about intimacy? He does talk about sex in his book. However, the book is about way more than sex. Isn’t this where yogis are suppose to turn their nose up and begin talking about brahmacharya, the fourth yama in Patanjali’s yoga sutra.

So, of course, let’s go there, without turning our nose up!

There are probably a zillion interpretations of brahmacharya (okay, not a zillion). Mukanda Stiles notes the literal translation:
Brahma +carya = living; living in the world.
brahma-cary (brahma=supreme Being) search for, respect for the Divine, continence.”

In his translation of the sutras, he translates this yama as “by abiding in behavior that respects the Divine as omnipresent, one acquires an inspired passion for life.”

Ganga White in Yoga Beyond Belief notes it is “usually translated as celibacy and abstinence….re-interpretated by some teachers in modern times to mean responsible sexuality or spiritual sexuality aimed toward God.”

The lovely mac computer I am attached to defines continence for us:
continence, noun.

1. control of one's actions and feelings; self-restraint; moderation.
Ex. The ancient Greeks advised continence in all things.
(SYN) self-control.
2. self-restraint or complete abstinence in sexual matters; chastity.

Maybe we should take a look at the word intimacy. Macintosh says:
intimacy, noun, pl. -cies.
1. the fact or condition of being intimate; close acquaintance; closeness.
Ex. The intimacy with which the two friends talked showed how fond they were of one another.
2. a familiar or intimate act.
(SYN) familiarity.
3. a euphemism for illicit sexual relations.

Maybe practice of some type can help us as individuals understand how we are using our sexual energy. Maybe that will lead to more intimacy, more closeness. Maybe the sutra about brahmacharya can help us be more aware of how we are living and interacting. Maybe it can allow us the opportunity to see if we are harming ourselves or someone else. Maybe we can look and see how we interact with people and why we interact that way. Maybe just talking about this taboo stuff can be of some help in leading to living more intimately?

Maybe getting on our mat and practicing allows us to be more intimate with life? What does it mean to be more intimate with your life? How can you be a close acquaintance of your own life? (I mean really, after a while this all starts to sound a little “bliss bunny-ish.”)
How can practicing down dog and triangle lead us to live more intimately? Is it leading you to live more intimately?

This is where it begins to stick for me. Am I distant and disconnected? Am I so busy that I have forgotten about intimacy? Am I present for what is happening in my life? Am I present for eating the vegetarian meatloaf that just came out of the microwave or am I typing while taking a few bites in between words? Am I able to be intimate and distracted? Hmm. I know the answer. Are we present for pain in the body? Does our language express intimacy or negativity? Are we present for all emotions or are we running from them, trying to figure them out, analyze them and make sense of everything? Can we be present and intimate with our moment-to-moment experience? Are we running away from what we know to be true in our gut? Are we running away from our own wisdom? Can we experience intimacy with the conflict we feel over what we feel? Can we experience embarrassment over something and just be with the embarrassment? Do we have to assign meaning to everything or can things just be? Can we be with anger just as easily as we can exhilaration?

Happiness and internal upset? Can we engage with people we don’t like, intimately? Can we live intimately with cancer? Can we engage intimately with someone we know sees the world in a completely different way than us? Can we can we can we?

Can getting on our mat actually help us with this? Are we even open to this? Isn’t living intimately a bit, just a bit, scary? I mean really, won’t it all just be a wild love fest? Wont’ every one be so nice that they don’t seem real? Will anything actually get done? How will we pay the mortgage and pick up the prescription from Walgreens? How will we set boundaries and stay committed to commitments? Hmmm….Or, will everyone be able to express themselves authentically and from their heart. Able to freely express anger, embarrassment and upset safely, without judgement, without fall-out. Now I am really sounding crazy.

Maybe if we are living more intimately with this life, maybe we begin to see everyone as our teacher. I don’t mean the put-them-up-on-a pedestal-bow-down-take-every-word-they say-as gold-type of teacher. I mean, maybe we see that every one is just like us, trying to live in the world, the best they can. Maybe we recognize in our bones that we are all the same. Maybe we recognize in our bones that there is no separation between anything and anyone. Maybe we see that everyone teaches us something. Maybe we see beauty in surprising places and surprising faces.

I was recently at a conference with people I have known for a year. Although I don’t see these people every day, or every week or every month, there is a connection, oh, I guess we could say an intimacy with them, that knocks my socks off. They are such smart, kind and welcoming people. I don’t mean that they aren’t human, because they are. Sometimes the words they say to me about living life is more meaningful and pertinent than the sutras have ever been. They surprise me. Why would I be surprised that people who are living their life, living intimately with their life, would have gems of wisdom? Maybe the surprise comes when I am not living intimately with life, when I am caught up in my crazy monkey mind about deadlines and cleaning the house and preparing for class and impressing the boss lady.

These people teach me, remind me, that people are kind, people can be respectful of themselves and of me, that people can stand up and refuse to participate in jokes that are offensive to them, people can hold a space that is both intimate and not over the line, people can know what they know and not cower from their own wisdom, and a group of dedicated, strong and bright people can get along with each other, intimately. They can’t possibly know this, but every time this occurs, it seems to put balm on old wounds. It’s as if every time we encounter someone living intimately with their own life, they unknowingly erase an encounter we had with someone who wasn’t. Who wouldn’t want to do that for themselves and for someone else?

I believe we can live intimately with one another from both the aisle seat and the window seat. In fact, I don’t think it matters where we sit, or stand or practice yoga. In fact, I don’t believe we even need to practice yoga to live life intimately. I think our yoga practice can be a tool, a tool that can lead us to have this conversation, with others and with ourselves. I believe it can be one more way to help open our hearts and our minds.

If we embrace our own wisdom and the wisdom of everyone else on the planet, live as many moments as we can with integrity and intimacy, then all there is love.

Ashtangalatte

2008-11-30T20:18:00.001-06:00

Have you ever wanted to sip a latte rather than practice? One day I did just that!

I am not sure why I am sitting at starbucks and five of my yoga friends are about to spend three hours with an internationally known ashtanga yoga teacher. I am recovering from a broken bone, but realistically, most of the practice could be modified. I have been all over the place with this decision to drink a latte rather than practice with this teacher. Hmm.

Last night, I caught a few minutes of a news story regarding letters that Mother Theresa wrote during her life here on the planet. I will need to read the book to know the rest of the story, but I heard the newscaster say Mother Theresa questioned her faith, in fact, she wrote about having lost her faith. Please do not mis-understand, I do not believe I share Mother Theresa’s qualities. Yet, I do understand this questioning, this loss of belief in something you once were sure was true. In this instance, I am questioning the dedication and hard, sweaty, mind-boggling practice of ashtanga yoga.

When I attended teacher training in Integrative Yoga Therapy it was suggested that the Ashtanga practice would be good for my dosha (ayurvedic body type). I think the suggestion was related to what was becoming clear was a fear of physically challenging practice, sort of a fear of my body. Maybe just a fear of everything.

So, as I often do, or let’s say did, I jumped right in to learning and practicing ashtanga….assuming people other than myself have some answers, or some wisdom that I somehow didn’t get when wisdom was passed out. So, anyway, I returned from the ashram and immediately found a way to learn the primary series of ashtanga yoga. We were headed to northern Washington state and I found a teacher who was willing to do a private lesson. I convinced my husband he should do the private lesson with me. As I found the private lesson,I also found out there was an Ashtangna workshop while we would be in town. I jumped in with both feet. A few hours of private instruction on Saturday and an ashtanga workshop on Sunday. I walked out of the workshop on Sunday with jello legs, sore arms and a drive to practice ashtanga yoga that can’t even be described. As we sometimes say, I had the yoga bug.

I began dedicating hours and hours to practice and study. I read and read and read. In the following year I attend three weekend workshops in Chicago and convinced my husband to make our following summer vacation plans in Vermont so I could attend a week long ashtanga teacher training. I convinced him to attend the teacher training (the story of him throwing his back out, crawling out of the hotel, lying flat on his back in the back of the volkswagon van to a local chiropractic office is for another time). Hmm. Can you believe he is still married to me? Anyway, I returned from ashtanga teacher training with a burning passion to continue practicing and to teach ashtanga. I wanted to share this amazing practice with other people. The fire inside couldn’t be contained. It was a little like being in love. Some might have said it was a little obsessional. So, the ashtanga fire spread. The power of this practice not only changes the body, it has this amazing power to change all kinds of things. Including my mind.

In my own assessment, I have found that Ashtanga has been a giant gift and a whopping challenge. There have been amazing moments of feeling like I was flying and moments where my body and mind ached. There have been moments of complete clarity on the mat and moments of very unexpected tears. There have been days and days and days of full practice and days where I just couldn’t face the mat. Through the years of Ashtanga practice, I have gained more than I can describe. I have found physical strength and balance that I didn’t know existed in this case of flesh and bones. I have surprised myself over and over what it is capable of doing. I have seen ingrained patterns and habits of thought that I didn’t even know existed.

There are people who believe if you practice Ashtanga yoga you should only practice Ashtanga. There are people who believe you should devote hours, six days a week to your practice. Historically, I have bought in hook-line-and-sinker to such rules. You see, I have been raised as a rule follower. Sometimes at work I will say to my supervisor, just tell me what the rules are and then I’ll be fine. So, as I started Ashtanga I believed these ideas to be rules. I mean if they have come out of Sri K Pathabi Jois’ mouth then they must be true, and they must be rules, and he must absolutely no more about how I should live than I know. He must absolutely know from 3 zillion miles away how it should look when I get on the yoga mat. So, there it was, the stick that I would continue to measure myself by.

After I learned what the rules looked like, I knew how to measure my success. What do you think success means in yoga? I think it is against the rules to even use those two words together in the same sentence. I wonder what type of police are about to come and arrest me in the clyborne and Webster Starbucks for using yoga and success together?

Speaking of the yoga police, I sometimes sense a rigidity and judgement around yoga. Let’s say if there is cross pollination between practices (mixing ashtanga and say Anusara yoga or Ashtanta and Bikram or Ashtanga and anything) or heaven forbid you would admit aloud that you aren’t on your mat twelve hours a week. My husband refers to this undercurrent of judgement as “yoga stink.” If you have ever smelled it you know to what he refers.

So, if you know how the inside of my head works, then you know that I set my personal standard to impress and accommodate the meanest, most critical and judgemental person in the room. I used to do this somewhat consciously. Semi-conscious. If you are interested in trying this horrid and very challenging practice, take a look around the room, see which person seems to be disagreeing with you, judging you, disliking you the most. Then, set the intention to “make” this person end up believing you are the bees knees. (I hope my wickedness hasn’t shocked you too much… If it did, then you won’t think I am the bee’s knees and then I am going to have work harder to convince you of this fact.) I suppose upon further investigation, the meanest, most critical and judgemental person in the room might be me. Sometimes what you see when you practice yoga isn’t that pretty. Maybe that is why I so often say to yoga students..it’s not what it looks like, it’s what it feels like. It’s a reminder to myself to go inside and listen. We need to listen to ourselves.

I really enjoy teaching ashtanga. I enjoy seeing people find themselves in the midst of such challenge. I like seeing peoples faces when they realize they are capable of much more than they ever imagined. It fascinates me to watch people see what their heads produce during practice. I am in awe of what some people wake up every day to face and then get on their mat to practice. It’s such a gift to see their resiliency. It is amazing to sit with people in savasana (resting pose) after they have finished the series. Their faces are flushed, their breath is deep in their belly, they are perfectly still. There is nothing like the sound of Om Shanti Shanti in a room full of people who have just reminded themselves they are the quiet they just experienced.

So, as I sit here with my latte and a hand I can’t put weight on, I wonder what it means that I am sitting here, rather than practicing with my friends down the street. Does this sitting here mean I am not serious enough, good enough, flexy enough, strong enough, skinny enough? Does it mean I must not want it bad enough? One of the riches that has come out of having had surgery on my hand is that I have really needed to look at what that means… “want it bad enough.” I mean really. Want what? There is nowhere to go with this practice, or with any practice. It’s not as if the national medal of honor is headed to me if I ever do handstand between postures. How many times have I said in class “take care of your body, there is not badge at the end of class?” Is it the belief that if I practice longer and harder I am going to be an international teacher who gets to present at International conferences with hundreds of dollars of sacred jewelry around my neck? No, maybe it’s that if I move into the next series that I am going to get the approval of said international teacher with hundreds of dollars of jewels around their neck? Hmm, maybe it’s that if I practiced harder and longer I wouldn’t feel stress, or experience sadness. Maybe it will lead to true happiness. Maybe it could lead me to win the lotto. Maybe it could rid myself of this budhha belly (actually, it might do that). Maybe it leads me right back to my self with a capital "s".

Anyway, will only certain types of practices lead to enlightenment? Are only certain people enlightened? It seems to me everyone is already enlightened. We might not recognize it, or act from it, but still enlightened. Will being enlightend mean people I love won’t get sick or die or that I won’t get hit by cars or break my hand or need surgery? Will it mean that you won’t die and I won’t die?

I suppose all of this means nothing. It means that I sit and think and type and sip a latte. I also suppose it means I have come to a moment where right now, in this moment I no longer believe I need an internationally known yoga teacher to fly across the country to inspire me to practice, or to tell me that I am good enough, strong enough and okay. These rules to live by reside inside me…right now, in Starbucks with my latte.

Hearts Wide Open

2008-11-30T20:16:00.000-06:00

How are you living? Are your shoulders curved around your body, protecting your heart?
What are we all so afraid of?

I just recently finished reading a book about a woman who traveled through Italy, India and Indonesia. It was a book that made me laugh out loud and think, a lot. It brought me back to this question “am I living my life with an open heart?’ Am I protecting myself from people or from events? Who exactly is this “I” that “I” might be protecting? Is it an illusion to believe we could really do such a thing as protect ourselves? Is there really that sort of control? Or are we running uphill only to find that at the top is a meadow of vast nothingness?

About a week ago I heard of a horrible accident that occurred which resulted in the death of a small child. I found myself wondering how it is that we could believe such “freak” accidents could be prevented. If only we could lock what is precious to us up in a closet, keeping the precious safe and under our control. Is it wrong to lock my nieces and nephews up in the closet, feed them through a slot (only organic food of course) and watch them 24hours a day? I love them that much. I love them so much that I can’t bear the idea that I can’t keep them safe. However, I know as the 3 year old twins get out bed at night and attempt to make microwave popcorn and the 12 year old is doing 12 year old things and the 10 year old is doing 10 year old things that I can’t keep them safe. I could trust in God, or trust in the Universe, or trust in something to keep them safe. But what about the death of the small child last week? Where was God then? How was the Universe keeping the little one safe? How can we keep our hearts open when tragedy might be around the corner and the Universe might be taking a siesta?

Tonight before I taught class I had about thirty minutes to practice. I turned on the CD called Songs from a Secret Garden. I really love this cd. It is the music that my instructor played in our last class during IYT teacher training at the ashram in Pennsylvania. There were forty of us who had spent fourteen, fifteen hour days together. There was an openness, a connectedness in this room that I can’t begin to describe. Although I went to learn how to teach asanas (postures), most of us found that we learned way more than how to describe trikonasana. Our shells cracked open, our secret gardens opened. So, anyway, when I listen to this Secret Garden music I am transported back to a warm, muggy, overcast day in June that likely can’t be forgotten. So anyway, I am on my mat today practicing, focusing on breath and an open heart. I stand on my head with an open heart. I walk across the room with an open heart. As I was teaching I began to see the trees swaying a few lots away and it is as if there is not a separation between the tops of the tree and my-self. A moment of recognition that there isn’t a difference.

After class, I meet for a few minutes with the master mind and project manager for our care package for Adam, yogi in Iraq. It occurs to me that I have spent time talking with Adam about how to be in Iraq with an open heart. It occurs to me that I don’t know anything about anything. It occurs to me that sometimes staying alive and functioning might mean closing off your heart. It occurs to me that living with an open heart actually implies that I choose to live this way. It implies an “I” who makes decisions….yep, I’ll stay open to the moment when I feel like I am a tree and yep, I’ll close off when an emotion freaks me out and sends me running for the hills. How completely ignorant and narcissistic. Who did “I” think “I” was suggesting to Adam that he try to stay open. What do I know about living in a war zone in Iraq? Ugh. I am so embarrassed. Where did this idea come from that I have control of how to live my life? Where did this idea come from that I am in the driver’s seat? One might think after my brother’s illness this year I would have recognized I am most certainly not in the driver’s seat. What was the thinking behind the idea that Adam could control whether he was open to what he was experiencing in Iraq? Arghhh. And I call myself…what? Who oh who is this “I” who thought she knew something? Why oh why does this character named “ami” keep forgetting who she is? Will she ever remember? What will it take? Will it happen when she gets her feet behind her head in supta kurmasana? Will it happen once she has traveled around India and not died of dysentery? Maybe she will have to have taken the leap to working full time at the studio to see it? Maybe she will have to be a mother to see it? Maybe she will have to have been deathly ill to see it?

You see, anytime I am giving advice to myself or to someone else, I am believing
I know something. That should be the first key there is a problem. Anytime we think we know something….we are in TROUBLE. It could be the first sign that we have forgotten something important. It’s a sign I have forgotten that wisdom is not found in the intellect, but rather a wide open heart.

cracked open like an egg

2008-11-30T20:13:00.001-06:00

My brother went in for brain surgery and my whole world cracked open, just like an egg.

This life continuously provides us opportunity to crack open like an egg. What I mean, is that if we are awake, we are afforded opportunities every moment to love more deeply and to live more compassionately. On this first day of 2007, I am fortunate enough to have the time to reflect on the last two months of 2006 where opportunities were quite abundant.

The Monday evening after Thanksgiving I was preparing to teach two yoga classes at the studio. I sat in the lobby with a few other people. I found myself staring out the glass door at the muddy parking lot and the rain. There was a moment of awareness of feeling dull. Maybe it was tiredness, maybe I had eaten too much afternoon chocolate (like having afternoon tea but less civilized), maybe my practice had been too short, but certainly a feeling of sluggishness.

That evening for the led ashtanga class, the studio was pleasantly full. Warm heat from the energy of the practice brought that rosy glow to the faces in the room. We were about half way through the seated postures of the ashtanga primary series when my husband,Vince, knocked on the studio door and asked for one of the other yoga teachers to come outside to see him. Since I was in the middle of leading the series, there wasn’t time for questions. Judy, who was practicing with the class, left her mat. Vince was scheduled to be at work that night so my mind began wandering…maybe he had clients cancel, maybe there was someone with questions who had walked in…no, Vince could answer any question about the studio or about the practice…maybe it was….back to counting out the series. One of the things I love about teaching yoga is that it is virtually impossible for me to teach and think about anything else.

I assisted students, I counted breaths (or I tried to count breaths) and then we were into the finishing series. My mind began to slow down and I began to see with clarity how absolutely extraordinary each person is on their mat. I know by now that something is wrong outside the door. Judy had not returned from the hallway. I moved the class through the last three postures and I lowered the lights for savasana (resting pose). I recognized how much I wanted to soak in the breath, the energy of the room. I made a special effort to reach each student to adjust them in savasana, touching them seemed important. Important for me rather than them. These moments felt anything but dull.

I sat down to find my breath. Was it there? Could I really count on it? My mind wandered to my family. Please God, don’t let it be one of our nieces or nephews. My mind moved to my brother who had been having some weird health things happening. It moved to my grandparents, to Vince’s mom, to my parents, to my sister, brother-in-law, back to my brother. I realized I didn’t know who I was pleading with. I didn’t know why I was pleading. I had been living life with a knowing that everything is as it should be. I had been living with the idea that there is something at work that isn’t me. I had been living with the recognition that I am not in control. Maybe that was all wrong.

I came back to my breath. I heard the silence in the room, the sound of the universe resting. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the people in the room. There was an awareness there was no separation between my breath and their breath. It was as if they were breathing for me. Their breath, such an intimate thing, was grounding me. From somewhere my voice began and I slowly led them to seated posture. The sound of Om reverberated in me. It soothed the anxiousness. I can’t remember a time I have felt more gratitude for having the privilege to teach yoga.

I sat on the office floor and cried after Vince told me they found a mass in my brother’s brain. He’s 31. He’s been sick. I find myself saying aloud how I knew something was wrong with him. Even while I was on the floor crying, there was awareness, some sense of something besides the scared chatter in my head. It was that there was something observing everything that was happening….me crying, people’s voices in the hall, the sound of faint music, cars. Vince was so kind. He held me. We made plans to leave for Chicago. Without requesting it to, the body moved. I stood and began to gather my things. The body produced tears and my feet moved. As I left, I found myself surrounded by people giving me love. I had never recognized so deeply that these people loved and supported me.

We packed and made plans to drive an hour and a half to pick up my sister before making the three hour trip to Chicago. We were ten minutes out of the city when I told Vince I felt faithless. Somehow I had this idea that if my faith in something bigger was true, then my heart wouldn’t hurt and feel as if it was cracking open. It was putting everything to the test. If I truly believed what I thought I believed, wouldn’t I be calm and cool and collected? Maybe I had been relying on a belief rather than something I knew based on experience.

Now it is clear, believing in something outside of myself is the perfect description of duality. Duality in action. Duality in action….hmm….is what I have been studying in yogic texts, in Advaita Vedantic texts. Isn’t this what I have talked about with as many teachers as I can? Isn’t the idea of duality or separation from our source where suffering comes from? Doesn’t faith in something, belief in something imply duality? Suffering comes from duality. Suffering comes when we believe we are separate from our source…suffering comes when we believe that Presence Awareness or Source or Spirit or God is outside of us. If I am praying to God, this has historically meant for me something outside of myself...I would be asking that big person in the sky to point down and do something differently. Resting in the awareness that I am-that’s it! Really, I mean that’s it. Source, or Awareness or God, doesn’t change, doesn’t waiver, doesn’t exist outside of me or you or the cockroach under the desk. It’s not separate from me, I am part of it. Ami is a manifestation of the source, everyone and everything and every being is a manifestation, not separate from it! Awareness was here before me, will be here after me. It was here before my brother and will be here after my brother. It doesn’t mean we aren’t sad or hurt when someone we love is ill or when someone we love dies. I think we could say that is what is called “Lila” –the play of God. Life. Sometimes it just hurts.

My head would begin spinning and tears and tears and tears would fall. I would find my breath and momentary calmness would settle. I would remind myself to tune into bodily sensation. The sensations were more trustworthy than the mad monkey mind. The mad monkey was spinning tales of cancer and brain injury and loss. Have you ever wondered why that monkey doesn’t spin more tales of “it will be fine, trust, peace, he’s strong and young, etc.” I suppose looking at it now, happy tales are just tales, too. In Vedic texts, this type of suffering is called duhka, it’s the suffering we spin. The bodily sensations were reality, the tales were not. If we are aware, there is opportunity every moment to choose between reality and non-reality.

My parents arrived in Chicago and called from his room in the neurological intensive care unit. Surgery was scheduled for the following day. My parents sounded strong. My brother got on the phone. Although likely not so yogic of me (whatever that means-isn’t it great to see all of these ideas/thoughts that we (I) carry around!) I say something charming like “shit….I love you.” Jeff says, “Ami, it’s just brain surgery.” We both laughed and then began to cry. Our connection and love for one another had never been louder or clearer.

What followed is a bit of a blur. It was a week of yoga in a chair, pranayama (breath) practice, phone calls to people closest to us, crying, sleeping at the hospital in a chair with my feet up in the air (fruits of asana practice arrived once again), and a lot of dark chocolate covered shortbread cookies. I would like to have believed (whatever for?) that in a crisis I would honor this temple of a body by eating tofu, sprouts and fruit. But that wasn’t my reality. Chai tea and shortbread. Sometimes, taking care of yourself doesn’t look like what you think it is going to look like.

Jeff returned home after a week. No cancer, no brain injury, no long term consequences-a full recovery expected. One day in a cab on the way to Northwestern’s emergency room, the next day brain surgery and home in less than a week. Astounding medical care at every turn. A neurosurgeon who was compassionate, patient and kind. It’s amazing how much a small bit of kindness from him made a difference for our entire family. Not just from the surgeon and the staff, but from the woman at the information desk, Jeff’s minister from Springfield, Jeff’s co-workers, Jeff’s former co-workers, our co-workers, our extended family, our friends. Small things make a difference. How often do I hold off to do something big for someone rather than offer something small? Small opportunities might be big.

It seemed like life stopped, but upon further examination you know, no matter what would have happened, life wouldn’t have stopped. Damn. How could everyone be carrying on with their lives when my baby brother almost died? I don’t know what it is that sounds so comforting about the world stopping...hmm. … even when I want it to stop…it doesn’t. How could I possibly see kids for counseling and adjust people in trikonasana (triangle posture) and get advertising done for the studio and pay bills and clean house? Maybe learning to lean back and be supported by people in our lives and by Awareness or by God, or whatever you call it, takes practice. I was certainly given an opportunity to deeply realize life keeps moving along, through love and loss and tragedy and heartbreak and celebrations.

Life kept moving, in fact it was time for the holiday shopping to be done and for the house to be cleaned for the solstice party. I still felt raw…not to mention I have been sad about Adam (a fellow yogi) leaving for Iraq. My heart feels heavy about the danger he will encounter. Not just the physical danger. My heart feels heavy for all of the families who’s loved one’s have died or been injured in the war. My heart feels heavy for the Iraqui’s. This rawness has opened me up like a giant wound. I was nervous about whether I would hold up when I spoke at the party about Adam leaving the yoga community. I hope he will remember the peace he has known through his asana, pranayama and mantra practice. I hope he will remember he is that peace.

I was overly tired and worn down. My physical yoga practice seemed to be getting shortened more and more every day. My eating habits seemed to be swirling out of control. The stomach flu came. I missed the live nativity scene in my sister’s barn. The physical body was practically yelling at me. I listened and spent the day in bed. We changed our plans and left late for our family gathering. I moved slowly, acutely aware of how physically and emotionally exhausted I had become. This body can only take so much. This body has such intelligence. A reminder was in order-listen!

On Christmas day, several of us were recovering from the flu. I saw attachment in full swing as we are all trying not to cling to one another, like lifeboats. I sat at the kitchen table and told my family how sad I was that I missed Christmas Eve service in the barn. I began to cry. Not about missing the service. Tears of recognition that we almost didn’t have a Christmas with two hundred people in the barn and the stomach flu. I have a moment of realizing my suffering is coming from thinking about what almost happened, not what happened. My brother takes my hand. His affection has always been present, but it never seemed to run this deep.

A few days passed after the holiday before Vince and I went to Chicago to be with Jeff for the New Years weekend. He’s not yet up for Chicago nightlife. Our favorite way to celebrate the new year is to have a quiet evening of movies and carry-out. I wonder if people expect that I am at home ringing in the new year with Sanskrit texts and hundreds of sun salutes (why I wonder this might lead us back to previous readings about my narcissism). As we walk to pick up our carry-out ,we laugh at my bizarre clothes…brown gaucho sweat pants, black tennis shoes without socks, grey sweatshirt, oatmeal hat. I look like I am directly out of the back page of cosmo magazine…what not to wear! Everyone else in high heels, sparkly dresses and fancy hair. We talk about how sometimes it seems like everyone else is having a better time…how sometimes it feels like everyone else is out living a life that can only be dreamed of….as if we don’t have opportunities to engage life fully and find enjoyment in what we have. We can allow ourselves to be pressured into believing our life isn’t good enough.

We left Chicago on New Year’s Day. I felt nervous and quite neurotic about leaving. Jeff is fine. His health is good, his recovery couldn’t be going better. It’s as if I somehow believed staring at him on the couch watching television was going to make him stay well. It’s not. I saw the attachment to my ideas of how things should be and I saw aversion of being with the unknown of the darkness. Tears rolled down my cheeks in the car. Leaving reminded me how fortunate we were to be there for the weekend. Each moment we are alive there are opportunities to experience gratefulness.

Living life with an open heart is another way of saying to have known love and to have lost love, is better than to have never loved (who said that?). We can choose bitterness or we can choose something else. To be aware of a mad-mad-mad- monkey mind illuminates the moments when the mind is crystal clear. To experience moments of absolute heartbreak allows us to recognize the feeling of love bursting through our hearts. To experience the pain in your heart when you walk away from someone you love shines a light on all of the glorious moments shared. To look in the eyes of someone who is sick reminds what it is to be healthy. To experience abundance over the holidays allows us to remember people who are having difficulty putting food on the table. To go to work each morning can remind us of people who are unemployed. To feel your partner’s hand on your back can remind us of people who are hardly ever touched. To lose someone you love can remind how precious every moment was when they were alive. To almost-lose someone you love can be a giant wake-up call to not take moments for granted, to be present, to be the presence we already are!

Resting in savasana reminds us that every moment is new, every moment fresh. Each moment is the present moment. As my mom says, that’s why they call it a present. Every moment is an opportunity to experience life with great care, grattitude and compassion, towards ourselves and every other being.

May we all crack open like eggs and experience life from our raw-wide-open hearts.

truth and honesty

2008-11-30T20:11:00.001-06:00

Who could imagine telling the truth could be such a sticky subject?

I hate to reveal such ugly sides of myself, well, actually that’s not true. I enjoy writing about myself. Narcissism at it’s best! No, that’s not true, it’s not really narcissism at it’s best, but a twinge of narcissism.

What does it mean to be truthful? What does it mean to be honest?

So, honestly, as I finished Ashtanga basics one Monday night I stayed for a few minutes and talked to other yogis, doing my best to answer questions. Then, I sat and talked to Judy, one of the new teachers. We spent a few minutes going over her class plans. I checked the bathrooms and began to leave. I saw a little (honestly it was tiny) pile of dirt from someone’s shoe on the tile-next to the rug. What did I do? Yep, I picked up the rug and swept the dirt underneath with my foot. It’s true. Can you believe I did that? Do I need to be this honest? Do you need to know how I function when I am tired and hungry. Really hungry. Do you need to know that I can act lazy and irresponsible. Do I need to admit, publicly, that I can shove things under the rug, both literally and symbolically? Is omitting this information being dishonest?

I swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?
Hmm. Do we tell the truth most of the time? Some of the time? More often than not?

Recently, truth, actually, the meaning of truth, has been on my mind. As often happens, some idea will be floating around in my head and then Vince or our friend will also be thinking about it. So, anyway, I have been thinking about it and our friend (see picture) brings up that he is really trying to be more conscious about how often he omits the truth. Omits the truth….is that different than lying? If you know the truth but you don’t say it aloud is that being truthful?

I once saw one of those night time news shows where a therapist is working with a couple who is having marital difficulty. She was trying to convince them that always telling the truth aloud is a key ingredient to a successful marriage. Does anyone tell the truth all the time? Does anyone want the truth to be told all the time?

Would it be right to tell the truth when your friend asks if her new short haircut makes her face look fat?
Would it be right to tell your best friend that her brand new healthy baby looks like an alien from the planet Zornon? Would it be right to speak the truth to your boss when you are feeling like chopping her head off (please remember these aren’t all examples from my personal life)? What if you believe your friend would end up happier if they left their spouse-would being truthful be the right thing to do? What if you are breaking up with someone you have been dating because they always have spinach in their teeth. You know it’s ridiculous, but that is your truth. Are you going to speak the truth? Or are you going to say something less, well, something else?

Maybe we say we want people to be completely honest with us, to always tell us the truth. Maybe we aren’t being honest about whether or not we want people to be completely honest.

I once asked a friend to be truthful about their feelings about our friendship. I see now that my reasons for wanting to know were completely ego driven and truthfully, none of my business (I just said truthfully on accident). When their truth began to spill out from heart and mouth, I knew immediately it was wrong to ask and not helpful or useful for either of us to hear the answer aloud. My habitual need to feed the ego and the truth filled words shaped the friendship into a complicated, painful mess. The quiet, spoken truth eventually took a toll on the friendship. We have never recovered. Those spoken, truthful words couldn’t be taken back. It’s like trying to squeeze toothpaste back into the tube.

Maybe some truths need to be kept to ourselves. Maybe just knowing our own truth is enough.

Isn’t truth transient, ever-changing? What I believe to be true one minute, might not be true the next minute. It is true that right now I want to eat a giant chocolate cake. Is that going to be true in five minutes (okay, bad example)? It is true that right now I want to teach yoga the rest of my life. Will that be true five years from now, or five months from now, or five weeks from now? Have we all been misinformed about what truth means?

Webster’s says it is “the state of being the case” or “the body of real things, events, facts” or “fidelity” or “constancy.” What if there is no such thing as our own truth? What if there are only universal truths? If so, what would universal truths be in your mind? Can universal truths be different for different people? Would we agree about universal truths? If they are universal, wouldn’t that mean they would be the same for everyone? Hmmm.

How are truth and yoga practice connected? (This is ultimately the question that led me to decide that this should be a two part-off the mat). For starters, we know Patanjali includes truthfulness as part of the yamas- a part of the eight limbs of yoga. Maybe our yoga asana practice could be where we start to see clearly the meaning of truthfulness. This could be where we start to see the connection, the importance of living a life of truth. Our yoga asana (posture) practice can again be useful... yet another place where practice can help us unfold-both literally and figuratively.

Maybe our yoga practice can help us see more clearly what we believe to be the truth, what we honestly think. Maybe it can assist us in recognizing our internal weather. If we are practicing, we will more than likely come face-to-face with the truth of our own experience. In addition to my own experience, I have known people and have read articles about people who have continued their asana practice through some difficulty that arises. For instance, getting on the mat and practicing through a loved one’s illness, or following the death of a parent, or through a divorce. There is a common theme for people who keep getting back onto the mat…the practice allows for an opportunity to be present with experience. It allows us to honestly feel the pain, the loss, the sorrow, the disappointment, the confusion. I don’t know who this quote belongs to, but I once heard someone say “what we resist persists.” If we don’t allow ourselves to experience the truth of our experience the first time, it will keep coming around…knocking on the door, until we let it in. The practice affords us an opportunity to let it in and then let it out. We can recognize the experience for what it truthfully is and then we can release it. An opportunity to do something other than shove the dirt under the rug (so to speak).

Practice can certainly assist us in recognizing what is going on with our outsides, with the physical body.
Maybe we suffered an injury and we have been ignoring that the healing process has been slow- slower than we would have preferred. Maybe we have been trying to trick ourselves into believing that the body has healed. Then, we get on our mat. BOOM- there it is…the truth of our recovery can’t be ignored. We are reminded that the body needs time and compassion and care as it heals. It reminds us that we don’t get to decide how the body heals or ultimately how the body works or doesn’t work. We are reminded that truthfully, there is something bigger at work.

Maybe there are places in our body where we are holding onto stuff, like un-truths. Maybe we have been hiding from some truth and it has successfully lodged in our shoulders, or in our chest or our hips. Maybe we are saying to ourselves and others that we are over the breakup of a relationship. Then, we get on our mat and BOOM-a river of tears appears accompanied by an incredible twinge between our shoulder blades. Our bodies don’t lie. The rug becomes difficult to walk on if we keep storing things underneath.

We could also ask ourselves if we are being honest about asana practice itself. Honest with ourselves about whether our body needs more kurmasana (tortoise) or more urdva dhanurasana (backbends). Honest with ourselves about whether or not we are always backing away from our edge, or constantly pushing past our edge.

I suppose practice on the mat, being the little microcosm of our lives that it is, could be as good a place as any to begin noticing if we are being honest.
I think tomorrow when I practice I will be open to what my shoulder is telling me. I mean honestly…

does everything change?

2008-11-30T20:10:00.001-06:00

It seems like my external world is a changing all the time. Sometimes the constant change leaves me feeling a bit crazy.

As you may know, Vince and I both have started new daytime jobs. We had been working for the same agency for the past twelve years, together. Last Wednesday, we both started our new positions, apart. On the surface, it looks like everything changes, but does it?

On Monday, we cleaned out our old desks and on Thursday, I emptied those contents into the new office space. I ran across a file (in one of the zillions of file boxes) labeled poems. It hasn’t been uncommon for me to use poems or stories with clients and students as a way to hold up a mirror, to invite them into a quiet place that might reflect their own wisdom. I opened the file to find a slim stack of poems, some on scratch paper that I have somehow found relevant to either myself or to a client. As I was reading them, I ran across a poem from college. The poem was written by someone in the sorority which I belonged. The poem was read at every sentimental ceremony I can recall: graduation, pledge night, activation night, the announcement of someone getting pinned, engaged, etc. As I started to read the poem, I giggled at the references to fraternity parties, late night study sessions (I can’t remember many of those), fraternity parties, microwave popcorn, fraternity parties and the development of new friendships. Then, I was stopped in my tracks with this line:

“…and if you are very smart or very lucky, you learn that no matter how big or messy the world becomes, that what is precious and what is permanent is always the same.”

When I was in college, I don’t think I ever stopped to reflect on the power of those words. Now, those words perfectly describe the main reason yoga practice is part of my life.

What is precious and what is permanent is always the same. Stop for a second, memorize this line, close your eyes and repeat it to yourself….what is precious and permanent is always the same….what is precious and permanent is always the same….what is precious and permanent is always the same.

Could it be that who we are at our core never changes? That which is precious and permanent is always the same. We know we can count on change….change in our checkbook balance, change in where we live, work and play, change in our relationships, change in how we feel about this and that, change in seasons, change in the size of our jeans, change when our kids grow up, change when people we love die, change when children are born, change in the yoga schedule, change of plans, change in priorities, change of mind, change in the cost of our cell phone, change in our asana practice. At first glance, change is everywhere!

If we are rushing around, holding our breath, gossiping about our neighbors and caught up in the drama of daily life, it might be that we will forget there is something that never changes, something that is unwavering. We are reminded of this in the Bhagavad Gita (the ancient Indian poem- a story of two royal families opposing one another). In the translation by Stephen Mitchell:

“The presence that pervades the universe is imperishable, unchanging, beyond both is and is not: how could it ever vanish?

These bodies come to an end; but that vast embodied Self is ageless, fathomless, eternal…”

No matter how big and messy the world becomes, what is precious and what is permanent is always the same. The presence that pervades the universe never changes. We can count on external change and we can count on presence that pervades the universe to never change. This unwavering presence (whatever you choose to call it-God, Universe, Goddess, Presence Awareness) is who we are. Self with a capital “S”. Beyond the self with a small “S”. Beyond the drama that accompanies this self with a small “s”, beyond the desires, beyond the aversions and attachments, beyond the vascillating waves of the mind, there is something that is still. Something that is steady, reliable and encompassing, containing everything.

This unwavering, unchangeable presence is what makes us all the same. Think back to a time when you were lying in savasana. Your breath was deep in the belly, maybe there was the sensation of the body being both grounded and floating, there could have been a deep sense of gratefulness for being alive, a sense of connection to everyone in the room, to the spider that hangs out in the corner of the studio and to the boss you were just cussing about. Suddenly, there is a clear awareness of stillness. A recognition that your-self with a small “s” isn’t in control and doesn’t need to be. A recognition that somehow everything will turn out the way it needs to turn out. A recognition that there are external changes and there is something that doesn’t change that is keeping us all afloat.

Can you possibly think of a better reason to get on the mat?

Check out a copy of the Bhagavad Gita-there are lot’s of translations. I have recently been enjoying
Bhagavad Gita
A New Translation
Stephen Mitchell

can yoga practice help us keep vacation head?

2008-11-30T20:07:00.000-06:00

I love that feeling inside after sitting on the beach for a few hours. My head is empty, I'm so relaxed.....

On a recent visit to Northern Michigan, Vince and two of our friends stopped at a local pub after a day of gallery hopping. I found myself saying aloud: “I haven’t felt this calm internally in over a year.” In retrospect, that isn’t an accurate statement, but there was a striking difference between my every-day state of being in Springfield and my vacation state of mind.

If your first thought is I had been served something interesting at the pub, I had a glass of water. Likely, your second thought is, well, she should be calm, she’s on vacation.

For the purposes of this musing, let’s describe “vacation head.” I am going to do this in a format that would inevitably send my high school English teacher into another planet. Vacation head: calm, easy going, not-rattled, flowing, content, peaceful, recognizing that something bigger is at work, knowing that I don’t control outcomes, understanding connection between all beings, honoring all beings, at-ease, surrendered.

Can we have “vacation head” year round? Can we keep the internal calm that always settles in for me after a few hours on the beach in Mexico? Or after sitting by a pinion fire in the mountains? Or that feeling I experience after finishing the asthanga primary series?

On a different day of vacation, eating lunch, looking at lake Michigan, eating fish and basking in the sun, I brought this subject up to my friends. They suggested keeping small souvenirs from the trip that will remind me of the feeling I had when on vacation. They also suggested pictures from the trip, which could remind me of the state of mind I was in while vacationing. Although I will most definitely have a picture of us sailing, I wonder if a picture of the full moon setting over lake Michigan will really help me when I am experiencing stress in October?

Stay with me for a moment while I ponder the idea that “vacation head” is a state of mind, an internal experience. Even better, ponder that this internal experience is always inside us, undisturbed. Even a step further, ponder that this is who we truly are underneath when we are experiencing the feeling of “not-even-close-to-vacation-head.”

I believe yoga practice can give us hands-on experience that “vacation head” is always with us, is us. Take for instance a time you have experienced a significant amount of stress during your work day. After work, you begin driving to yoga class and realize you are late and you forgot your yoga mat. You hit every possible red light and because you are late, parking close to the studio isn’t an option. Your head is going a million miles an hour about how bad you look entering class late, about how poorly you are being treated at work and how you should have gone to watch your five year old practice soccer, rather than going to class. You sneak into the back of yoga class, quietly unroll your borrowed yoga mat and say to yourself “there is no possible way this can be an enjoyable experience and there is certainly no way to unwind in the 5o minutes left in class.” Sound familiar?

About twenty minutes into practice, you are focused on the sound of your breath, aware of body alignment and suddenly aware of the strain in your right shoulder. You are falling into the rhythm of something bigger than all those fluctuations of your mad monkey mind. By savasana, there is relaxation. As you sit in padmasana (meditation posture) there is this recognition of an intimate connection between the breath and something bigger than your pea brain. The sensation of being connected to all other beings is front and center.

Hmm. What is happening? There is not a beach, not a pinion fire and less than an hour ago you seemed to be a different person. Could it be that we have to go to yoga class more often to find this state? Could it be that sirsasana (headstand) brought this on? Maybe all of that asana practice and pranayama practice creates calmness.

Have you ever experienced calm during a crisis? Who could imagine, “vacation head” during the middle of a tornado? We all hear stories of people knowing exactly what to do during the middle of an emergency. Maybe we could look back at a time when we were on a run and we were in the “zone.” Who could imagine, “vacation head” at mile 24 of the marathon? Is “vacation-head” only available to us when the body if flushed with adrenaline or when the body is exhausted?

I believe the more we practice and study yoga, we are provided an opportunity to look deeper. It allows us to see this state of calm is always present. The practice allows us to see that this experience isn’t created, it’s who we are all the time. For example, let’s imagine that you drop your favorite ring into a calm pond. You jump into look for it and begin splashing around like a mad person. Splash- splash- splash and the calm surface is disturbed, no longer calm. It occurs to you that underneath all of the splashing is calm water, undisturbed. If you stop splashing (stop believing you have to put so much effort forth) the water will calm and you will see clearly where the ring has landed. You see, it’s always calm underneath. With yoga practice, we get to see that we aren’t our ability to put our leg behind our head, we aren’t just an employee, or wife, or partner, or mother, or father, or whatever label we attach our identity.

We could say that this calm, unchanging, never-wavering peace is who we are at the core of our being. Never separate from our higher source, part of it. Like the drop of water forgetting it is part of the ocean. There is no way to separate the drop from the ocean. The drop might forget who it really is, but it can’t separate itself from the big blue sea.

Maybe vacation and asana practice simply provide us with an opportunity to recognize who we are and who we aren’t.
“Vacation head” is simply one way we express, or one way I express, how life is experienced when there is recognition that I am not in the driver’s seat. That this pea brain is really part of something bigger-never separate from. This being named Ami is more than the stresses of work and family and the external circumstances of this life. Beyond aging bodies and personalities and the external events that occur in this life, we are all spirit. We just sometimes forget that “vacation head” is really who we are all the time. We can remember we don’t have to fly to Belize to find it. Now that’s something to say Ahh about!

surrender and resistance

2008-11-30T20:05:00.001-06:00

Can practicing yoga really help me find these two buzz words...surrender and resistance? What keeps me on the mat and what keeps me off the mat?

The question I have been living with this summer is how to surrender. How can our asana practice teach us to surrender? What in the world can kurmasana-toroise pose, (a pose I have historically found impossible), possibly teach me about surrendering?

It seems to me, the first step in surrendering is showing up. To begin talking about showing up, let’s think about the ways we resist showing up on our yoga mat. I’ll give you ten ways someone (maybe me) might resist showing up on the mat:

*I hit the alarm and think to myself….hmmm…today my yoga practice is going to be sleeping in…I’m just listening to my body and I need more rest, not more asana practice.

*Ahh, afternoon practice. Shouldn’t I go to the studio and clean? I do need to run to Kinko’s. I probably need to run to the store and get stuff for dinner. Wasn’t I going to return calls about the upcoming schedule? Oh yeah, I think I’ll meet my friend for a quick cup of coffee and then practice.

* I am home, post coffee, post grocery store. Wow, it’s already time to start dinner. Maybe today will be my day off. I can still get six days in this week.

* The alarm goes off and ick, I ate too much last night for dinner. Morning practice is going to feel terrible, I think I’ll practice after work and before dinner.

* The phone rings at work. It’s a friend calling from out of town and wants to visit tonight. He invites us to dinner, hmmm, I’ll practice later.

* After returning home, believing I would have a very gentle-before-you-go-to-bed practice, I sit down for a few minutes. I think my food needs to digest. I get hooked into a great book I have been reading (likely a yoga book)-does it count to read about yoga asanas? I remember Grey’s Anatomy is on television and I have such a crush on Dr. McDreamy...hmm….I’ll get up in the morning.

* Whew-my muscles are so tight! I have been off my mat for a few days in a row. Ugh, don’t want to get back on my mat. It’s going to feel terrible..five surya namaskara a’s and five surya namaskara b’s. I’ll die. I can’t physically do it…I could modify…hmm. Tomorrow.

*Ya know, my back has been a bit sore since that workshop. A few too many backbends. Twelve wheels in a row. What was that teacher thinking? Up and back out of wheel five times. Who was he kidding? I am sure lots of rest will help me heal. I probably don’t need to be doing any asana practice…hmm…I am sure there are asanas that could help my back heal…but, I could try total rest. My friend who tore his Achilles has been practicing in a chair…hmm, I wonder if lot’s of savasana counts as practice?

* The yoga room in our house is a mess. It’s also the guest room where no one every stays. I have got to get that cleaned up before I practice. Really, it only needs about fifteen minutes of work. I could hang up the clothes I threw on the futon and then practice. Hmm. After I clean up it will be time to go….

* I know it’s time for practice, but I have had a really hard day at work. I know practice is exactly what I need, but I don’t want to get on the mat. Practice will mean I will come face-to-face with how badly I am feeling. I don’t want to be with all of this anxiety or sadness or anger. Nope, can’t face it. Can’t be with it…too icky.

These are all thoughts, or fluctuations of the mind. If we identify with these fluctuations, we certainly won’t show up on our mat. This could and likely does carry over and we don’t show up for our life. In Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra, we learn that yoga is the cessastion of the fluctuations of thoughts. As stated in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali as interpreted by Mukunda Stiles (Chapter I, verse 2):

“Yoga is experienced in that mind which has ceased to identify itself with its vascillating waves of perception.”

Another way to say this is that the experience of yoga is when we have stopped identifying or believing thoughts like numbers one through ten. We could also see these specific fluctuations as resistance. Let’s take a closer look at number ten. Number ten is quite clearly what underlies most of, if not all, resistance in my life.

Are we resisting to what is happening in our lives? Are we resisting to emotions we experience? Are we resisting what is happening in this moment? What follows resistance?

Take a second and think back to a time when you were having a conflict with another person. Were you aware of your internal experience? Were you aware of the fluctuations of the mind? Imagine for a second you were aware of an intense experience of hatred, or anger. Now imagine that for some reason (likely conditioning) you believe the emotion you were experiencing was not an acceptable emotion. You tense up, freak out, try to control the situation, tighten up, swim upstream. This is resistance. There is anger or whatever emotion is arising. Will there be resistance or surrender? It seems important to distinguish between surrendering to an emotion and acting on it. Just because you experience anger, or whatever unwanted emotion is arising, doesn’t mean you have to act on it or out of it. Surrendering to the experience is another way of seeing we are never separate from what is, from the present moment.

Yoga practice can teach us (in my case over and over and over and over again) to first become aware of our physical experience on the mat and eventually the practice will lead us to become aware of what is inside. When we get on our mat to practice asanas or pranayama or meditiation, we have an opportunity to practice showing up for our life. Practicing Kurmasana gives me an opportunity to experience tight shoulders and tight hips. It also allows me to observe how I resist what is hard, to see how I resist what is not comfortable and how I resist what I believe to be impossible. I can watch my mind spin around in a great whirlwind about how I am never going to be able to do it, I am not good enough, thin enough, strong enough, open enough, tall enough, long limbed enough, open-hipped enough, experienced enough. I could also allow this five thousand year old tradition to teach me that my mind is doing this all the time, not just in kurmasana. What happens on the mat is a microcosm or laboratory of what is happening in the rest of our lives.

Showing up on the mat, especially for me in the morning, immediately gives me an opportunity to see resistance ( see numbers one through ten) and then practice surrendering to the fluctuations, rather than identifying with them. This is different than “giving in” to numbers one through ten, or giving in to the fluctuations that always arise in kurmasana. If I give in, I would never be on my mat and I would certainly never practice asanas that are difficult.

I can practice observing the fluctuations and then surrender to something bigger than myself. As I often say in class, I can use this time to recognize my pea sized brain is always connected to something bigger. Thank goodness! My pea brain, my self with a small “s”, this body with a personality, doesn’t have to and in reality, doesn’t control everything. Hmm. In fact, the idea that it controls anything is an illusion. I might try, I might pretend that I am in control, but without fail, this is swimming upstream. Talk about effortful.

As I practice surrendering, giving myself, my-self, over to the present moment, or to the universe, or to God, or to whatever you feel comfortable calling it, everything feels less effortful and remarkably, I show up. I show up and experience emotions I didn’t want, didn’t expect and didn’t ask to have. As I allow myself to experience this, something inevitably arises to remind me that I can float.

I am convinced it’s worth showing up on the mat and in the rest of life.

Now that is something to say Ahh about.

Check out Ami’s new favorite Yoga Sutra translation:
Yoga Sutras of Patanjali as interpreted by Mukunda Stiles
(ISBN 1-57863-201-3)

kicked in the stomach

2008-11-30T19:55:00.002-06:00

Sometimes you get the wind knocked out of you metaphorically speaking. Can getting on our mats help us find acceptance?

I recently experienced that feeling of being kicked in the stomach. Obviously, I mean this figuratively. I was expecting someone in my life to treat me respectfully, honestly and kindly. As sometimes occurs in life, what I expected and what really happened were not the same. Along with this expectation came suffering, accompanied by disbelief, anger and for all who know me, of course, a short river of tears.

Does having expectations set us up for feeling disheartened? Does having expectations keep us driven and goal oriented? Or, does having expectations take us out of the moment, out of knowing that we are part of something bigger?

Have you ever been told to lower your expectations? My first reaction when I heard “ lower your expectations” was to bristle like a porcupine. This went against everything I believed and knew to be true. I grew up with goals and expectations. This was what I believed to equal success. Set goals, expect the best of yourself, put everything into what you do and good things will happen.

Didn’t expectations from my parents keep me on the straight and narrow path in high school? Didn’t the expectation that I would graduate from college keep me going to class on Friday mornings when everyone else I knew was playing Frisbee on the quad? Didn’t expectations of attending graduate school keep me focused through my senior year at Southern? Didn’t the expectation of a good job after graduate school keep me plugging away at my research? This could go on and on… expectations in marriage, in family, work, in relationships with friends, co-workers, etc, Would I have fallen flat if there hadn’t been expectations? Would I be a lousy partner, a lousy social worker and a disappointing friend without expectations?

What if, just what if, instead of expecting anything, we practiced accepting reality, being present for whatever is actually happening. Reality is what is happening right now, and right now and right now. Everything we think about what is happening, everything we expect, is just thinking about reality. That is very different than accepting reality.

But how, oh how, can this be? If we don’t have expectations how will anything ever get done? If we don’t have expectations how will our kids get to college and learn to be respectful? If we don’t have expectations how will our husbands ever remember to put the toilet seat down? If we don’t expect our employees to be at work on time and do their jobs, how will they ever become contributing members of the agency? Hmm. It sounds like maybe we believe our expectations are what make us do things and make other people do things. Is it the expectation, or could it be something bigger?

Almost anytime we are suffering, we can bet we are arguing with reality. The arguing might be in our heads or coming out of our mouths. Either way, reality is reality. We might not like it, it might not be what we expected, it might not be what we were wishing would happen, but it’s reality.

We don’t really need to expect things to be any other way than they are. It sounds so simple doesn’t it? So, let’s say we don’t expect our kids to take out the trash. We ask them to, but we don’t expect them to follow our request. We provide the request and if it isn’t done we address the reality of the situation. The alternative is this:
You say: please take out the trash (in your head you are thinking: I have been through this a million times, I know his/her patterns, he never does what I ask, he is so lazy, I bet he forgets, he will probably just play video games, why doesn’t he respect me…….). So, while waiting to see if the trash is taken out, we are spinning the web of thoughts (expectations) and we are suffering. Our mood drops and we end up yelling about the trash still sitting in the kitchen, rather than effectively coming up with a solution. You see, the expectation is really unnecessary. In fact, the buying into the expectation takes you out of the present, out of experiencing the moment. Anytime we are waiting for something- we aren’t here!

So, is it true that people in life are causing me heartbreak and disappointment? Or could it be, that expectations are the real culprit. I mean, people are just people. It seems to me that all people are just doing the best they can. I know some would disagree, but from this view, if someone could be doing something better, they would be doing it. It might look like on the surface people could be kinder, smarter, more honest, more ethical and more compassionate. But don’t you think generally, they would be doing that if they could? It points us to the idea that everyone has their own path, their own road to walk. We are all moving along a path, doing the best we can, putting one foot in front of the other.

After that recent “kick in the stomach” I slowly, sluggishly got on the mat. I was afforded the beautiful and somewhat painful opportunity to see my head spinning around like a top. I found myself moving through molasses in surya namaskara, holding my breath during standing postures and absent mindedly skipping postures in the ashtanga series. As I moved onto the floor and reached janu sirsasana (head to knee pose) my hamstring woke me out of the reverie. It reminded me of some “catch” I have been living with in the left side of the back body. There was a split second where I realized I could sense the tightness and discomfort and fight the reality of it, or surrender. I could surrender to what the hamstring was saying, or screaming, or I could fight it. I could push and push, expect that my body shouldn’t have this problem and wish it wasn’t so, or, I could soften and be with what was true. From there, I had a glimpse, a tiny view of the perfection of the “kick in the stomach.” I could see people are just people, doing what people do. I didn’t have to buy into the expectation that my hamstring would have suddenly healed and I didn’t have to buy into the expectation that I shouldn’t ever be “kicked in the stomach.” I didn’t have to buy into the expectation that if I do the best I can and treat people with kindness and compassion, that they will do the same towards me. I didn’t have to believe, or wish, or expect it to be any different than it was.

In the Bhagavad Gita, Arjuna is taught by Krishna to act without concern for the fruits of his actions. In other words, in my words, this means we don’t act compassionately and do our best because we are looking for something in return. We do the right thing and act compassionately so we can turn over the fruits of our labor, the fruits of our actions to some presence bigger than ourselves. We can allow our yoga practice to open us to the realization that we beings are all the same at the source. The practice can open us to see that we are all following the path as best we can. Most of all, it can remind us we are all human, fumbling through…even the one kicking.