The Detox Series: Part 2

This post essentially has two parts, so stick with me.

Every day we face opportunities to make choices, choices we make without much consideration.  Choosing to listen to public radio vs. commercial-run top 40s.  Deciding to make coffee vs. buy it.  Taking the scenic route vs. the busy highway.  Or in our case last night, choosing to have Chinese take-out for dinner vs. make a homemade meal.

My posts the past couple of weeks have been about cleansing, detoxing, and making healthier choices all around.  I truly believe in this, but I know it is a process. You cannot be perfect every hour, of everyday.   Yesterday I made the choice to eat a Quest Bar (protein packed, gluten/sugar-free) for "lunch" because after teaching 5 classes, my business partner and I were preoccupied with getting our errands done for the Grand Opening on Saturday, and didn't have time for a real lunch before our workout.  This choice meant that by the time I got home at 6pm (left at 4:30am) I was mentally exhausted, physically hungry, and made another poor choice: Chinese takeout.  I choose the healthier options there, but knew that I would still feel less-than-great the next morning.  And it's true, I do feel a little groggy today.  However, this morning is a brand new day and the choices I made yesterday do not dictate today.

I woke up and chugged a big glass of water.  I made a fresh cup of coffee, added cinnamon and coconut milk, and let the yumminess warm me up.  Topped my gluten-free toast with crunchy, organic peanut butter with chia & flax seeds, and ate a perfectly ripe banana.  I practiced a quick yoga sequence that focused on detoxifying poses (another post to come!) and an hour later, feeling much better!  All too often we allow one poor choice to define us, control us, and cause us to lose direction of who we are and what we believe in.  Know that you have the power to change that!

Now the original goal of this post, Detox Series Part Duex, was to pass on to you a simple, yet effective trick I learned from my mother.  In my last post, I discussed how we can choose to minimize the negative effects social media has on our time and our lives.  But before we had social media, we had print, in the form of magazines, catalogs, etc and television.  Even though magazines are not has popular as they once were, they still exist and I still read them every once in a while.  I already discussed my recent disappointment in YogaJournal, and my subsequent discontinuation of my subscription, but I still have a few issues coming my way.  In addition, I like to treat myself to the occasional Vogue or InStyle.  But what I don't want to treat myself to are the ridiculous amount of advertisements in each issue.

When I was younger, I remember by mom collecting Better Homes & Garden magazines and putting together binders of her "dream home."  (This was the original way people did Pinterest.)  She would get a magazine and rip out all the advertisements first.  Without even looking at the stories.  For those tricky pages with articles on one side, she'd fold the ad in half to hide it.  It wasn't just Better Homes & Garden, it was all magazines.  When I was in high school and started buying the horrendous Cosmopolitan magazines, I didn't rip out the ads.  Instead, they made impressions on me, whether I knew it at the time or not.  (Buy this, look like this, you need this, blah blah blah--this is old news, we all know this and it's been discussed at nauseam.)  It continued until this summer when I received yet another YogaJournal magazine and I noticed it was so full of ads, that it was hard to distinguish between the ads and the articles.  I started ripping out all the ads.  It was fantastic.  No more opportunities to looks at supplements that claim to make you look younger, yoga pants to make your butt look better, etc.  Duh, and photoshopped images.

I started following in my mother's footsteps and now each time I pick up a magazine, the first thing I do is rip out all the pointless ads.  It works for all kinds of magazines and it feels awesome to do it.  Cut out the garbage and keep the stuff you really bought the magazine for.

As for watching television, try muting the TV during commercials.  Use the time to talk to the people around you, switch out the laundry, do a couple of air squats/push-ups/sit-ups, light a few of candles, etc.  When you're favorite show comes back on, simply un-mute.

It's a subtle change, but all these small choices we make during our day will help to detoxify our life.  We receive so much involuntary stimulation throughout the day, why not choose not to when we can?

Have a happy Friday!!!!

No Time Like The Present

My post yesterday was actually written over a week ago.  I was struggling with getting back into the groove of routine, specifically my workout routine, after weeks of excitement--personally and professionally.

What I didn't know was that that very night, after I wrote that post, my perspective would be drastically shifted.

Last Monday, my husband lost his uncle.  He was relatively young, had a lot of life left in him, and didn't give his family and friends much time to prepare for his passing.  This is the second death in my husband's family this year, and this one hit him hard.  My husband is the hardest working person I know, and yet he is still amazingly giving to anyone who needs him.  He never complains at work, he rarely expresses impatience, frustration, or even annoyance with me (and I can be annoying.)  He just gives and gives and gives.   I could never do what he does, work Monday through Friday, then sit in school on the weekend.  Without envy or complaint, he gives up nearly all of his little spare time to others.  To top things off he had a medical scare that really shook him.  My heart just broke for him.

Phone calls with your mother can always make things better (or at least mine can.)  After listening to me cry and scream, and say things like "why can't we catch a break?! Everyone else has it so easy" she reminded me of something so important, I better never forget it again.  It doesn't get easier.  We just get better at dealing with it--whatever IT is.  Kids, house, job, money, health--there will always be something that tests your patience, your sanity.   There is no, "well, once this is over things will be better."  Or, life would be so much easier if I only had _______.

When a person leaves you relatively suddenly, you begin to think about all the ways you live your life, and if how you spend your time, your energy, is the way you really want to spend it.  For me, it made me really appreciate the people in my life that I love, and how precious each interaction is.  I worked extra hard not to stress the small stuff.  And by small stuff, I mean the things that I will not think about on my deathbed, like the extra $300 I shouldn't have to spend to fix my car mirror that I didn't break.  Or the $100 to take the cat to the vet, which didn't solve the cat's problem.  Or the day(s) I didn't have time for a workout.  Or even the bellyache I had after having delicious cupcakes.  None of these annoying inconveniences will matter in the end, so I really tried not to spend my time being frustrated about them.  

What I can control is how I treat myself and how I treat others.  I can decide to make choices that enhance my well-being, rather than deter me away from my personal goals in life.  As a couple, we decided to take care of ourselves.  My husband has decided that he will take time, everyday, to do something that he loves. Something that will make him happy.  He can't control the hours spent at work, and he knows he chose to follow his dreams by going to school on the weekend.  But he can choose not to be miserable when he has the time.  For that, I truly admire him.

“Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, when one only remembers to turn on the light.” Dumbledore 

#30DaystoFlow Challenge Rules

Why I Did What I Did

While I don't believe I should have to explain my decisions to anyone, I have realized that we exist in a world now of over-sharing, so one's desire to keep matters private comes off as being prideful, spiteful, or worse--personal.  As if the reason I choose to make life decisions for me is, in any way, for someone else.  I keep a very small intimate group of best friends with whom I share my personal struggles and triumphs--but to all others, I prefer to keep things light and fun.  I don't deliberately choose not to spill my beans to everyone, I have just simply always been this way.

With that said, it has been just over a year since I switched careers originally, and only a few months since the latest change.  Every time, I have made changes that affect a lot of people.  With this last move more people noticed, and it has caused some rippling.  That start of the story is when I went from working in an office from 8am to 4pm, doing something I was not passionate about, to working full-time in fitness and wellness.  While my official journey into health/wellness began in 2010, when I received my teaching certification and began teaching yoga, I believe I have been a health/fitness coach my whole life.  In the end, it took a deeply hurtful event to push me out of my comfortable office job. 

For those of you who know, you know, for those who don't, I won't explain here.  But know that I had to mourn something I had lost, and as we all know, the grieving process is long and complicated and different for everyone.  The event start during our engagement and I melted into yoga to help me move through the sticky situation with ease.  I was deeply hurt, but also deeply in love.  I wanted to make sure I felt everything, savored every moment of our engagement and was truly present at our wedding. I wanted to get through it without breaking.  And I did.  

After the wedding, I didn't want to just be a survivor, I wanted a new beginning.  I didn't want to think or feel anything I felt before. I wanted to be a fighter.  I found CrossFit and a fighter I became.  I fought through workouts, I fought through fear, I fought through emotion.  Before long, my yoga practice was no longer a priority.  Looking back at it now, I know this was all part of my mourning.  CrossFit was the perfect next step.  Something to get me on my feet and punch back.  I had to be strong for the person I loved first, and I was.  I became her strongest support, and gave up a lot of myself in our relationship to be there for her.  I started to feel empowered again.  CrossFit that gave me the courage to leave my office job and it was the people at CrossFit who offered me my next step.

When I started yoga, I worked hard to lose my competitive self.  I was constantly comparing, judging, and fighting myself.  Yoga helped me let that go.  So, it comes to no surprise that CrossFit, in it's natural form, brought a lot of that back.  I didn't mind at first, I felt really strong and super badass.  In fact, I believe I needed some of that fire back in my life, because the event left me feeling vulnerable and soft.  But, because I had the tendency to be self-conscious, self-hating, it wasn't long before instead of feeling proud of my strength and the things I could do, I was beating myself up for not being even better. 

My body is no idiot though, it kept injuring itself to force me to take a step back.  I tried to listen, but I was seduced by the particular culture of the particular CrossFit gym I was a part of.  It's no one's fault.  Our gym was/is a very strong gym. The people are amazing and do amazing things with their bodies.  As one of the better females, I felt pressure to always perform--or if I wasn't--justify why I was resting, or feel bad about doing lighter weight.  I take full responsibility for going back before I should, for pushing too hard, as I know now that I should have known better.  But my co-workers were friends, our members were inspiration, and ultimately my own ego was pushing me.  

At the same time, my job at the gym became very demanding. It was less a 9-to-5, as it was a full-time 24/7 position.  I had to live, breathe, sleep it.  At first, this was a relief--our box brought me so much strength, the strength to get past something so difficult.  But then I began to truly lose myself in it. I was competitive, harsh, and stubborn.  My personal yoga practice was almost nonexistent, my time for my husband had to be second to my desire to work hard at my job.  My own personal interests disappeared.  Instead of being a fighter, I had became a machine.  I know now that my blind drive to keep pushing was all part of my grieving and I know this step was necessary in me being where I am today.  

I guess, as really great things are often born out of tragedy, another heartbreaking event had to take place for me to see I had to make yet another change.  This time it was a deep hurt suffered by my husband.  I saw that while he suffered and needed my support, I was truly detached.  I could not find the emotion to help him or comfort him.  Even at the funeral, I felt nothing, despite me having love and gratitude for the deceased.  

So I had to take a hard look at where I was going, who I was, and I didn't like it.  I wanted some of my vulnerability back, I needed to feel open, I needed to feel free.  It's challenging in our society to say to yourself, 'I have to do something for me' without feeling like you have to justify it to others.  And, we as a social society tend to take other's actions and personalized them.  People are always going to ask you why, are you sure, what will you do, what did I do to you, etc.  Even myself, I had to think, 'is leaving my job smart in this economy?' 'what on earth will I do?'  But the risk of losing all that I loved by staying was too great.

Without a true plan, without a job, I left.  Even my dear friend helped lie for me, saying I was leaving for something, because leaving for nothing didn't make sense.  Free, I felt a surge of inspiration and I began reaching out to all those that were doing something awesome with their lives.  Little time passed before I was involved in a lot of wonderful projects.  I volunteered, I taught yoga, I read, I wrote, I practiced.  I started to pave the way to my own destiny and I had NO IDEA where it would go.  I even began the tough road back to my yoga mat.  It was hard, my body and mind felt rigid. But I had to begin again.  

Then, something amazing happened.  A friend who had been scorned by the same gym I had just left reached out to me with an opportunity.  Scared to jump into something too quickly, I decided to take some of his CrossFit classes to see if his community was right for me.  My husband and I went together, and we both left feeling freshly inspired.  This was a place where I felt I could design my own road, I had the freedom to go at the pace that I wanted, and all were welcome.  He even wanted to start and develop a strong yoga program.  We proposed a partnership, and bada-bing-bada-boom, I had something.  

I believe I had to truly jump-off, with no safety net, to land where I am today.  I am finding the balance between feeling strong and in control, with being flexible and open.  I did this for me, for my life, and even though I don't have to justify it to anyone, I can and I will. 

Yoga Drill Sergeant

This morning started like many other Monday mornings—grudgingly dragging my feet from the bedroom to the bathroom.  Stepping over the cat that is always in my way, grabbing my gym bag, but not my coat, and heading out into the barely-started day.  My body operates as a programmed transport for my brain as I park my car, walk down the street, and into the yoga room.  Then, as the students begin to arrive I finally start to feel awake.

While the class kicks off a bit stiff and disjointed, before long the class has transformed into a body of completely focused energy.  I can see my students eyes fixated on the mirror, checking their alignment and struggling to hold on just a moment longer while balancing.  This morning it occurred to me—in a big and bright way, not unlike times before—that yoga is anything but an escape.  It is, if nothing else, an experience of your life, challenged, slowed down and in high definition.  It’s intense.

I've had people approach me to say to me that they want to begin a yoga practice because they want “an escape.”   I’m super stressed and I just need to not think and just relax. They may come into a class with this image of trance-like music, a beautiful teacher with airy words and a soft touch, and students moving effortlessly into spectacular poses.   Welp, sweetheart, that sounds wonderful but that ain’t how it’s going to go.  There will be a lot going on that you may not expect, so you better hang on for the ride.

The truth is, for most people beginning a yoga practice is a large undertaking.  First step is always stepping through the door.  Then once you’re in the room, chaos happens.  You’re looking into the mirror not just at yourself, but at yourself amid a sea of others.  Combine your already stressed state, with not knowing what the teacher will say, what to do with your hands, and wondering why the heck you’re so sweaty already and you have a jumbo-size mental mess.  Of course there will be moments when you must come to terms with all the physical postures you may not be able to do.  There will be moments of ego, where you must wrestle with your urge to critique and judge your physical abilities. What?! I can’t balance on one foot?  This is bullshit!  It’s not simply a physical practice, but a mind and body experience that will challenge all parts of you, even to points of discomfort.

You will face moments that have pushed many to quit in the past, because they wanted something easy and dammit it’s not.  Because yoga is not a single experience, a serene and isolated beach that will remain the same each time you come to it.  No, each time you step on your mat it’s a whole different ballgame.  From the moment you left your mat to the moment you’ve come back, you’re carrying new baggage, new experiences, everything that you put into your body since then.   And if you’re not paying attention you may end up on your ass—literally and figuratively.

So why does this image of peaceful and stress-free yoga sessions keep taunting all the brand new beginners, as if the jokes on them?  Does it ever become easy? Last week I had a student tell me, “Wow, you’re a slave driver—I like it.  You’ll see me next week.” What?! That doesn't sound like a yoga teacher I want to go to!  You should know, yoga was not by any means easy for this man.  He is well past his 50s, had to use the wall for balance, took modifications of most poses, and sweats enough to create his own, private pool.   But he had over an hour to wrestle his demons head on and he came out alive--smiling even.  Really, I just helped guide him from one point to the other, with gentle reminders in between.   You are challenged to meet yourself exactly where you are, both mentally and physically, and then willingly let go of disillusion. Following every sweaty torture of holding dreaded eagle pose, is the opportunity to release.   So no, I’m not the slave driver, you are—but you’re welcome anyway.

The calm, tranquil, serene beach of paradise can be found in yoga or any other activity you find to be challenging because it forces us to let go of the false image of ourselves.  We must rise to the occasion to get through what we are doing.  We must be better than we think we are.  And that is a wonderful feeling.  That is the moment of Ahhh.  That is why my students get up every morning and get on their mats--to face themselves in the mirror and come out victorious.

Cat savasana

Feed the Wolf

Often I hear people saying that they want to recreate themselves.  They are coming to yoga to recreate their mind-body connection or getting healthy to recreate their sexy and more youthful self, or the oh-so-cliché post-relationship total image overhaul—recreate, recreate, recreate.  I am guilty of very much the same; feeling an urge to recreate myself into the woman I thought I should be by now.  There is an image of the me that I am and the image I want to be.  I can get stuck believing that because I sit at a desk answering phones, opening doors, and directing people to offices that I am somehow morphing into a one-dimensional secretary from a 1950s sitcom.   It’s easy to latch onto anything that I’ve done in my past and use it to define who I am—label myself a blah.  Then in sheer fear of the person I created, I search to strip down and recreate.

But, the idea of recreating me suggests that I somehow created myself wrong.  And I don’t like that—not one bit. 

In yoga, the belief is that we are all already whole and complete beings.  We have all that be need to be great within ourselves, in the same place where we keep our struggles and our fears.  Everything is inside.  A Native American proverb says it simply,

A fight is going on inside me, he said to the boy. It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. This same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too.The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, Which wolf will win?

The old Cherokee simply replied, The one you feed.

I posted before about how there are no “wrong steps,” for without what we perceive as mistakes, we would never be where we are today.  In the same way, some of the things we’ve done do not define who we are, but rather help shape who we are becoming.  When I practice yoga, I need to remember that I am connecting to my true self, not getting rid of a version I don’t like.  In the same way, when I push really hard in a CrossFit workout or challenge myself to try something new and scary, I am not recreating myself.  Instead, I am finding a part of me that was left unattended and unfed.  Over time, in the moments that we allow, we can see ourselves as whole and complete human beings.  This reminder comes at a perfect time, as I am faced with some tough choices.  One is daunting, fresh, yet exciting; while the other is safe, boring and tiresome.  

We have the choice of which wolf to feed.

The Tides of March

Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike. J. K. Rowling 

The month of March has lived up to its reputation; it has felt like nothing less than unrelenting madness.  The days of “in like a lion and out like a lamb” are long gone, replaced by schizophrenic weather and unsure predictions of tomorrow.  In Delaware, the school kids have gone through a winter without a snow day, and the rest of us have been shuffling into the new year with our heads down.  It feels like just now we are lifting our gazes to realize that the third month of 2013 is nearly over.  “On edge” would be describing my last few weeks lightly.

March brought some changes to my schedule, as I now start my day Monday through Thursday by teaching yoga, in addition to teaching two nights a week.  Then the CrossFit Games’ Open began and I have been competing in that.  And that’s just my workout schedule!  My hours in-between are spent, often feeling more like a deposit into a life account that I will never see rather than a progression towards something.  Lately by the time my head hits the pillow at night, I realize I barely had time to think during the day.  It’s then that all the thoughts come rushing in waves and the moments tick by without any real relation to conventional time.  I cannot do anything but think.  Then, it begins again.

 

I recently wrote a post about setting intentions, about having a purpose to practicing, training, moving, living.  While I still find that setting an intention is challenging, I find it just as difficult to keep that intention in mind—staying completely present in whatever it is I am doing.  Part of the problem is that days are filled with lots of doing—minutes defined by actions, what I need to do to get through.  My time is propelled by what others need me to do.  I will be in class practicing yoga and instead of being present for me, I am thinking about what postures or poses I would like my students to experience.  Before I know it, the hour or so that I dedicated to myself is gone and I am back on someone else’s schedule. 

This may seem like just distractions, but it is actually a form of neglecting myself.  Yes, I am distracted by what others need and want me to do—but worse—I am ho-hum towards me. “Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike,” (J. K. Rowling.)  If I am floating through my day without mindfulness or true feelings, then I pretty much neglected precious moments that I will never get back. If at the very least I dislike something, I usually work harder to move to something that I do enjoy.  Feelings of dislike can be catalyst of change, whereas indifference is a life sentence of static.  

March may almost be over, but it’s not over yet.  So I have vowed to change!  While my routine has not changed, my perspective has.  On Monday morning I got up and taught my small class, not because I have to, but because I enjoy seeing my students evolve.  Then I was fully engaged in a staff meeting because I was there, so why not?  I was thankful to get out of work early, danced around my house, went to yoga, and then ate cake.  It’s not easy, especially in the morning, but I have been reminding myself today that I am here, so just be here.   

Life moving fast is definitely nothing new and it will not change. The days will tick on and the responsibilities will pile up.  People will tell you what to do and you won’t always have a choice.  So I propose the intention to simply be present.  Notice what you’re feeling, especially if it is unpleasant, and work towards something better.  That way as we move forward, we can drop away the tasks, the people, the jobs, and our own thoughts and feelings that are not serving us.  Spring is the perfect time to walk forward with your head held high—winter is leaving and the sun is shining the way into summer.   

Look at me Now

So one year ago today, I began a regular, dedicated yoga practice.  September 7^th, 2010 was the first time I had step foot into a private yoga studio, and my only experience prior was a limited collection of DVD’s, a college fit class, and one failed attempt at the Y.  Then my most current and continual yoga practice had been with Tony and his P90X version of Yoga X.  I worked hard to figure out the poses, but I was still in my bedroom, on carpet, using my make-up mirror for alignment, and blasting myself with a fan whenever I got remotely sweating.  All of which was quite different from the yoga I would begin when I started practicing at my current studio.

Truth be told, I actually had my first exposure to yoga at 14 years old.  One day I sneaked into the basement and popped in a Jane Austin “Power Yoga” VHS.  I did that tape almost every day for 3 weeks, and it wasn’t cool for a young teen to be doing workout videos in her basement—alone—so I didn’t want anyone to find out.  I was afraid of letting my friends do it with me, because yoga poses were a little strange and some made you fart.   I figured if I got flack for doing Tae-Bo at age 12, then yoga would not go over any better.   

Before long, yoga started to become more main-stream and I also grew old enough to not care what people thought.   By that time my VHS died on me and I had other DVDs to try and friends to try them with.  However, for the most part, yoga was still something that I did relatively on my own and randomly.

Ever since I physically could, I was a competitive athlete.   It was just natural to work hard and push through to the end—soccer, ice skating, softball, basketball, track, ultimate Frisbee, hiking, everything was competitive to me. 

This was obvious even at a young age. 

Easter egg hunts were not simply a fun, holiday game—oh no.  My cousin Pete and I could turn this and any other family activity into a full-blown battle.  It was necessary to warm-up and stretch before a game of Monopoly—and forget poker—you might as well bring your bullet-proof vest.  Don’t get me wrong, I love it.  But recently on my journey to adulthood (which I’ve barely started), I stopped fighting other people and I began fighting myself.  Not like in a good competitive way, but in a let’s-beat-myself-to-exhaustion-with-no-end sort of way.  With no particular sport to play anymore, I became the sport.  And I was losing. 

So it was a perfect time in my life to finally pursue yoga.  Despite my awkward start with yoga as a teen, I always knew in my heart that I was in love and it would eventually become a regular part of my life.  There was something different about it that felt really, really good even when I was immature and relatively unstressed in life.  Yoga practice was a chance for me to push my body, but still be kind to myself. 

What I didn’t anticipate were the enormous changes that would take place in my life from beginning my yoga practice.  Mentally and emotionally, personally and professionally, inside and out.  I would have never guessed that within a year I would be this physically fit, madly in love, engaged, working at a new fantastic job, certified to teach AND teach yoga.  To some these all might seem unrelated, but I know in my heart that it is completely related. 

Am I bragging?  NO. 

I was terrified to begin this journey, was filled with self-doubt and frustration, and even struggled to continue.  But I got through it and now—one year later—I am blown away by where I am. Shocked.  And there is nothing special about me; anyone can do this!   Maybe yoga isn’t your thing, but everyone has their thing.  Find it and get after it.

September is about fresh starts and new beginnings.  If you want something, NOW IS THE TIME. 

Car Yoga, Corolla Style!

It has been a rough week for my poor old car.  I knew it was over-the-hill when my dad gave it to me, but the good ol’ Corolla was a real trooper.  Together we’ve driven down the east coast, out west, and even very far north.  He was patient with me as I learned not only to drive manual, but to drive at all!  That car drove me to meet up with people I love and has taken me far away from people I don’t.  It even puts up with the embarrassment of the occasional ticket.  Never punishing me for the shame it feels being parked on the curb during Wilmington street cleaning.  Ahhh, I really love that car. 

However, it has been struggling more lately and first needed a new clutch (the equivalent of a hip replacement).  Then, in an unfortunate series of events, he had his rain-guard broken, a violation of personal space, and was ripped of his 7 year old sound system.  I felt so bad for the old guy.

But despite his troubles, the car keeps on trucking (or Corolla-ing!)  That was, until the other day.   For work I had to drive down state (about an hour and a half) for a 2 hour meeting and then immediately turn around and drive back.  I knew it was going to be a hot day and that the drive was going to be silent and long, but even without the radio I knew the AC would keep me comfortable.  And it did! For the whole ride down I avoided the 90 degree heat and humidity with perfectly cold air.  In fact, I thought it was a bit chilly, so I even turned down the AC.  Lucky me.

After the meeting I hopped into the old guy to head back home.  I am sure you know where this is going, but I will tell you anyway.  The AC fizzled and stopped working about 5 minutes into the ride.  This was not ideal, but manageable since there was some wind.  Before long, I began to sweat in my work pants and blouse…gross.  But that was not the worst part.  Right as I reached a half way point, traffic came to a shrieking halt.   And with that, the heat lay on me like a wool blanket.  There was nothing I could do but embrace the sweat.  For the miles that I could see ahead there were two lanes of stopped traffic.  Trucks and cars and SUVs all jammed in together.  The SUVs began one by one turning around illegally through the grass median.  I thought about doing the same, but then I remembered I was in a Corolla.  Unlike jeeps, they are unfortunately not build for any form of off roading. 

So there I was—tired, sweaty, hot, stuck, and without any company.  There was a lot of potential to get very frustrated, very quickly. 

But something else happened.  Instead of getting more hot and bothered, I simply reached into my bag and began to read some magazines.   It was as if I took a lesson of patience from my old car.  As he was patient with me during terrible driving hours and teenage years, I too was patient.  Today was just not a good day for us.  It got me thinking about two yoga niyamas, santosha and tapa.  I have talked about santosha (contentment) before, but tapa is something that I have to continually work hard at.  Tapa meaning austerity or self-discipline, and in yoga philosophy has been described as the ability to withstand discomfort and struggle.  It challenges us all to work through things like hunger and thirst, discomfort of poses and postures, and for me on this particular day—maintaining calm and contentment through heat and traffic.  I had to come to a zen state, which was not easy. 

It was however possible.  My own contentment was reaffirmed when I finally reached the point that created the traffic in the first place—a terrible accident.  There were 3 fire trucks and 2 ambulances and as I took a glance down off the highway I saw an eighteen wheeler laying on its side, limp like road kill.  It had tumbled and ripped apart on its way off the highway and into the woods.   As I passed I was thankful it wasn’t me in the truck and I was glad I hadn’t wasted the last hour sitting in traffic angry and upset.  I may have been a little late to my next appointment, but I wasn’t early to die.   

I am not in any way claiming to be a saint.  Deep down I know that had I had company in the car, or if the radio wasn’t stolen, or if the AC worked, I may have ignited some serious road rage within.  I guess what I am saying is that the obviously bad situation I was in gave me some clarity; I was reminded about how fortunate I actually am.  The silence and the time alone helped me to reevaluate my presence.  All I can hope now is that the next time I am in traffic, I remember to do some yoga. 

The Original Social Network

The other day my boyfriend and I were discussing the importance of mentoring.  Even though I work for a mentoring program, this was strangely the first time this topic came up.  And even more bizarre—I wasn’t the one that brought it up.  He felt he has never had a mentor, never had someone take enough interest in him. All great people have had a person they consider a mentor.  More so, I would even believe that mediocre people have had someone help get them there.  So the idea that no one has been your mentor…well, that thought alone is depressing. 

When I am training high school students to be mentors to elementary school students I always start with the question, “What is a mentor?”  Most fumble around with words, twiddling their thumbs, and looking rather nonchalant about this “mentoring business.”  But eventually they come up with wonderful answers to what a mentor is—a role model, leader, a friend, someone to talk to, someone to listen, someone to guide you, a teacher, a coach and someone to show you what’s right.  When we define mentor like this it’s harder to think of ourselves going it alone. We are not simply trudging our way through life as no one has before.  Someone, somewhere has done something similar to us.  When my boyfriend asked if I believed my supervisor at work was my mentor, without hesitation I said yes.  But had you asked me the same question last year, about the same woman, I would have not been able to say yes.  It took me a while to realize what a mentor was.  More than that, I had to understand who I was. I had to ignore my screaming ego that shouted, “You are unique! You are special!  No one is like you!”

In order to see the mentors I had around me, I had to see that I needed guidance.  If you do not admit to yourself that you need an extra hand, then you will not see the resources you have at your fingertips.  All throughout high school and college I was a good student.  Extremely bright, but terribly stubborn.  I was offered help and support from teachers and professors, but my ego told me help was for those who were struggling.  And I was not struggling…yet.  What I was struggling with was the idea that someone was perfect or ideal, and that I could look up to him or her as a role model.  Pessimistically, I found flaws in those that would have been mentors.  Perhaps this was a way for me to continue to be the solo adventurer I fantasized I was.  Ultimately I could not admit greatness in others.  I wanted their greatness, but did not want to share their knowledge.  It was self righteous and competitive.  The essential problem with my stubbornness and fabulous ego was that when I eventually needed help, I was too guarded and barely knew how to ask.

Luckily for me, I opened my eyes to the wonderful minds around me.  It began with asking my parents for more than financial help, enlisting their wisdom in new ways.  Then as I began the stage after college, the dreaded “real life,” I began to seek advice from co-workers, program managers, etc.  I began soaking up information like a sponge.  I went from not wanting to ask a single question to not being able to ask enough.  I humbled myself and admitted that I was not yet invincible.  There was so much I didn’t know, that I learned from my mentors.  Whether or not I am a special and unique person, I am not the only one that experienced a terrible middle school, awkward break-ups, unfortunate wardrobe choices, or a life-changing experience.   Thankfully, I am where I am today largely due to the people who have influenced me on my way.   I had mentors long before I thought I did.  Looking back on my young life, I called upon my mentors (whether they knew it or not!) to guide me through strange and confusing times.  

A mentor can be a favorite author, whose words spoke to your heart.  Or they can come in the form of a teacher, who helps you see your potential.  Mentors are often are own parents, as we learn both what to do and what not to do.  What’s important to know about our beloved mentors is that we cannot make them perfect in our minds.  Trying to find the perfect mentor will leave us missing out on our best teachers.  Just like we hope they accept our faults, we must expect that they will have faults as well.  What we can do is take the best parts of our mentors and grow from there.

We are what we watch

On the news this morning there was a story centered on girl-on-girl fighting.  The issue was that teenage girls are violently fighting each other in front of their peers, who record it and put it on the internet.  One of the girls highlighted in the story is a “reality TV star” on the show Teen Mom 2.  Obviously, there is already a lot wrong with this picture.  While I believe over 50% of the news is sensationalized, there is something seriously going on here that I barely know where to start.  It makes my heart hurt.  Unfortunately, I cannot control what other people do, nor can I control what is put on TV.  What I can control is what I say, what I do, what I watch, and ultimately how I think.  Buddha said, “We are what we think.  All that we are arises with our thoughts.  With our thoughts, we make our world.”  So with that, I must start with myself.

I have to work through what is the real reason this story upsets me.  Obviously the fighting itself is the opposite of good, but it’s also not uncommon.  Boys and men have been fighting publically for centuries.  Girl-on-girl fighting is nothing new in the 21^st century, but the access to YouTube is relatively fresh.   What used to be a private act, perhaps shared solely in gossip circles, is now blasted on the internet for anyone to see.  One unknown girl’s humiliation was part of my morning.   That’s sad for the both of us.  But for me it’s not about the fight itself.  The fact that girls are fighting each other viciously is undoubtedly stupid, but is not as disturbing to me as the general public’s encouragement of this behavior.  When the clips posted on YouTube of girls fighting were shown, it was the crowd of people egging on the girls that horrified me.  There was no regard for the screams of agony, no one tried to help, and people actually laughed and cheered.  In one clip, a girl’s mother drove her to the fight and gave her encouragement from the side.  Terrible, disgusting.  It’s a modern day Gladiator.

As part of my work, I am part of a project with local Wilmington teens.  It was supposed to be a collaborative effort between my fellow Allies and the teens, as we develop a project on respect.  What it has turned into is an eye-opening conversation on the realities of fighting, bullying, peer-pressure, self-respect, and survival.   They talk about their own fights with no problem, no attachment, and no regret.  What I realize is that it’s the something inside of us that has called this entertainment—the part of us that derives pleasure from this, the part of us that is okay with seeing another’s pain—that deeply, deeply upsets me. 

Ashamed, I must admit that I’ve watched Teen Mom 2 and cringed at the fights and the total lack of responsibility.  I have also watched Jersey Shore and listened to domestic fights.  These were all choices of mine.  I could have easily changed the channel or better yet, turned off the television.  I cannot blame the TV executives or the show’s producers for being socially irresponsible.   People have asked for this stuff.  All I can do is reshape my mind and refuse to encourage this kind of behavior.  As Buddha had said, with my thoughts, I make my world.  I know that any desire from within me to watch these shows originates from negative feelings I carry: jealousy, doubt, fear, lack of self-worth or confidence.  If I eliminate these dirty, nasty feelings, I doubt I will be tempted to watch shows like Teen Mom, Jersey Shore, or any other similar trash.  In developing a steady yoga practice, I can feel my backpack of negative emotions slowly getting lighter, as I leave these feelings behind.

How can a slow exercise to ambient music work to changing human behavior?  I know it sounds absurd and maybe it is.  But I believe it can, slowly and unknowingly, so just hear me out.  In any yoga class, you often hear the word Namaste (nah-mah-stay) and maybe you’ve never known what that means.  At the end of class, we bring our hands to our hearts and we bow together and say, Namaste.  What a strange thing to do, right?  At first this made me uncomfortable because I felt like I was in church or unknowingly entered an eccentric cult.  In fact in the beginning I totally faked it and if I was at home, I would just turn off the DVD and walk away.  It was during these days that I still was competitive with my own body—getting angry if it wouldn’t do a pose or if I didn’t lose weight.  I didn’t understand the yoga practice.  So back to Namaste, what did it really mean?  I had always heard my teachers say, the light in me sees and honors the light in you.  Huh, what light?! Literally Namaste means I bow to you; “nama” means bow, “as” means I, and “te” means you.  Ultimately it’s recognition of another humans worth, as well as your own.   From one soul to another.  Now, as I learned more about the origins of yoga and read more about Buddhist philosophy, I have begun to truly feel the importance of Namaste.  When I say it I try to picture my competiveness evaporate, my hostilities vanish, and my jealousy die. 

So, I cannot force others to embrace non-violence towards each other.  But I am making a promise to myself today, that I will be non-violent to my body, my mind, and my soul and hope that that can be enough.

Namaste.

First Sight of Storms

This morning everyone in the Greater Philadelphia region is waking up to the pitter patter of rain on their windows.   As I slowly come out of a deep sleep, my room is the darkest of dark like a protective cave of slumber.  I should have noticed right away that the sunshine of yesterday was gone, as both our cats were on our pillows jumping at something imaginary on our walls.  They had been meowing anxiously and restlessly rummaging around the house.  I pried myself out from the covers and shuffled mindlessly to the bathroom.  Right before I flipped the light switch, a shocking flash filled the room.  An instant later it was followed by a rumbling so loud it vibrated my chest.  As I stood in the middle of the dark room, I allowed myself a moment to feel the flashes of lighting and the deep thunders.  Storms are nothing new to me know, but they are still spectacular. I realized that it was Weasley’s and Baxter’s first thunderstorm.   Just like any of us experiencing something for the first time, a cocktail of emotion stirs inside; a mix of thrill, confusion, fear, and elation. 

The storm brought me back to my own experience yesterday, when I taught my first public yoga class.  All day I prepared for my class, thinking of excellent cues, picking the perfect music, and picturing the students I would have.  I was like a humid Summer’s day, heavy with anticipation.  Slowly the minutes and then hours evaporated, leaving me with nothing to face but the fated moment. 

I really had no idea what to expect and—to be perfectly honest—I had no idea how to prepare.  As more and more people arrived and the studio filled, I felt a storm cloud building within me.  I had energy vibrating from my fingertips to my toes.  Nerves clashed with fear; doubt rumbled with excitement.  I was beginning to hope that I could hold onto these emotions forever and not actually go through with this moment.  The class was nearly full (over 45 people), so not the easiest first class to teach.  As if she saw my confidence blustering, Mary came over with only 2 minutes left before class.  She was in my teacher training, is one of the nicest ladies I know, and most importantly had taught this class before.  Mary was told once and so in turn told me, “starting like this is like jumping off a cliff—everything else you do will be cake.”  She gave me the go get ‘em girl pep talk I needed before running back into the room and onto her mat.   And with that, there was no time left.   I opened the door and began…

It is hard to visualize how something will be until you’re there, doing it, experiencing it.  It’s like the first rollercoaster you ever rode.  Could you ever have imagined it looking or feeling like that?  How do you describe the feeling of your first jump off the high dive, when you are suspended in air awaiting the water?  For me, it was like I became the storm cloud.  At first I was still nervous, letting my cues and my energy drip one rain drop at time.  Each word came out hesitantly and cautiously.  Yet as the class began to move, I suddenly got my surge of vigor and my energy began to pour.  I felt my tension cascade away as my words rained down in streams.  I have NO IDEA what I said.  All I know is that I moved through the room and out of the corner of my eye saw my students moving to my words.   When at last I led the class in the final pose savasana, the room became silent, still, and calm.  I took a deep breath in and felt the air fill my belly, chest, and spine.  On the exhale, all my tension released and I was left with an exhilarated high.  The storm had passed.  (It actually looked like it rained in there—the students were drenched!)

In the end, it all happened at a speed I couldn’t define.  Some moments felt like they lasted forever, others went by in a flash.  I couldn't tell you if I used the wonderful cues I practiced or if the music I chose worked.  What I do know is that after the class I felt elated, fresh and warm from somewhere deep within.  So it only seems fitting that I left the class with these simple words:

“What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” –Ralph  Waldo Emerson

Graduation

Dorothy: Now which way do we go?
Scarecrow: Pardon me, this way is a very nice way.
…
Scarecrow: [points both ways] Of course, some people do go both ways

Sometimes it’s hard to know which way to go once a path seemingly ends.  We could be left with no foreseeable path or too many choices, and to Dorothy the scarecrow suggests no right answer.  As with most children’s stories, the Wizard of Oz is very much about finding our way.   This journey does not end with our childhood, we carry this curiosity throughout our whole lives as we determine who we are and where we would like to be.  

Yesterday was my graduation from the Yoga Teacher Training program, so the question where do I go from here? has been lingering in my mind.  I can remember the very first night of the training; I was nervous and yet shaking with anticipation.  All day leading up to our first Friday night together I wondered about the people I would be learning with, my own experience (would it be enough?), what my teachers would be like, and if I had the ability to finish it.   It would be dishonest if I said the program was easy.  There were a lot of moments where I struggled and I questioned myself.  Both emotionally and physically, it was a challenging adventure.  If perhaps all I did was the teacher training than it would be easier, but we all know that life continues on without pause. 

Whenever we take on a new goal, project, or journey we must find a way to fit that into our lives.  I can compare this to the person who decides to get healthy and follow a strict diet and workout regime.  They need to dedicate 6 hours a week to exercising, 6 or more hours preparing healthy meals.  Further, they need to cut out some of their most cherished comforts to replace them with healthier options.  Unfortunately, they cannot simply stop doing all that they did before to focus on this (unless you’re in The Biggest Loser).  Life continues to give us work, school, stress, obligations, and time limits.  We all must make choices and sacrifices in order to see our goal come to fruition.  At some points we have to say ‘no’ to something in order to say ‘yes’ to something bigger.   There were friend dates, beautiful weather days, house chores, and even family gatherings that I missed in order to see my dream of becoming a yoga instructor come true.   Because of these sacrifices, the challenges, and even the struggles, the journey has been so rewarding. 

I feel like I am not the same person now as I was 6 months ago.  But perhaps that is not entirely true.  During our last asana class together, our teacher Nancy played for us a special soundtrack to guide us through our poses.  In a whimsical way, we listened to Somewhere over the Rainbow, by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole as we came into our final poses. Nancy left us with a quote then about Dorothy’s journey to Oz, and realizing that we had all that we needed from the start. The Lion had courage, the Tinman had a heart, the Scarecrow had a brain, and all they needed to do was find it within them.

So, when I think about the road ahead and where I may go, I must always remember that I already have all that I need. Any challenge or struggle that comes my way, I have the ability to tackle it. Know that I am not unique in this, we all have this amazing ability, and it’s just a matter of recognizing it within ourselves.

As another great mind said, “Doesn’t matter what path you choose. Just choose one and walk it.”