Journal Entry 3/23/2021
A few weeks ago I was in a virtual seminar and the presenters were frequently asking for feedback in the form of one word. The presenter would say, now don’t abandon yourself here. She’d say something like, “Whether you’re overwhelmed or you’re intrigued, it doesn’t matter, just give an honest answer.” I remembered that reminder from other times in life, but I jotted it down anyway: Don’t Abandon Yourself.
A few days later, my favorite yogi posted about the importance of not abandoning yourself. Again I was reminded… oh yes, I wanted to think more about that, Don’t Abandon Yourself. So I wrote it down again.
A few days later still, Glennon posted an excerpt from her book and then reflected about the signals she gets from within when she recognizes she is abandoning herself. The Universe was starting to raise her voice to me.
The icing on the cake was Oprah’s interview with Meghan Markle. I’ve been a fan of Meghan since she starred in Suits, long before she even met her prince. And I’ve been intrigued by her even more in recent months and longing to hear her story. I’ll give you one guess what the essence of this interview was. Ultimately, Meghan risked a lot by telling her story, but she did not risk losing herself, she did not abandon herself. Meghan was true to herself in such a way that I, among many, I’m sure, felt hopeful and inspired by her courage.
It appeared that The Universe was bombarding me with near constant reminders to stop abandoning myself. I was being invited to take a deeper look. Not abandoning myself means this to me: Being Honest with myself, not deceiving myself or avoiding difficult thoughts or feelings. It means Being Compassionate with myself, which has proven to be quite challenging. It means Taking Care of myself in mind, body and spirit. Learning to say No, and remembering that No is a complete sentence. I don’t owe anyone anything, certainly not an explanation for what I do or don’t do.
A number of years ago, I made a conscious decision to stop spending time with people whose company I didn’t enjoy, or who made me feel depleted or unsettled. I noticed that I often came away from certain social engagements feeling exhausted and empty, when what I wanted to feel was replenished and full. This was a true reckoning for me because for most of my life, I had been so socially agreeable, which sometimes translated to not being true to myself. It was uncomfortable learning to say no and stop spending time and energy in certain places. But it was also a good start to living a truer life and prioritizing myself. I spent many years recklessly abandoning myself and suddenly, I wasn’t willing to do it anymore.
When I gossip, I’m abandoning myself. Because tearing other people down doesn’t align with the person I want to be.
When I strive on the yoga mat, trying to do what the teacher asks of me instead of what my body asks of me, I’m abandoning myself.
When I eat ice cream every night and cheezits every day for a week, then have the audacity to wonder why I feel like shit, I have, once again, abandoned myself. I’ve filled the void with junk instead of nourishing my body with green things. I’ve planted my ass on the couch in front of the tv instead of getting outside and moving it in the sunshine.
Every time I stifle myself or my personality, or make myself smaller, thinking I’m not allowed to take up space, I abandon myself once again.
Sometimes it takes a little practice to recognize and realize that you can depend on yourself. But you can. You are the person you’ve been looking for, you were always right there waiting for yourself. Everything you could ever need isn’t waiting for you in a lover you haven’t met yet, or your kids, or your friends; it’s not waiting for you later in your career, it’s already there, within you.
This morning I woke with that old Pretenders’ song in my head, “I’ll Stand by You, Won’t Let Nobody Hurt You, I’ll Stand by You.” Why not stand in front of the mirror now and sing that to yourself? Get curious about the ways in which you have been abandoning yourself. Choosing to spend time with people whose company you don’t really enjoy? Not nourishing your body in a way that you’ll be happy about five years from now? Start speaking up on your own behalf. Start putting yourself first once in a while. Stop abandoning you. You need you.
Journal Entry 2/28/2021
How do you want to be remembered? What are you known for? Grace and grit. A flair for the dramatic? A maniac driver? A good cook, a good entertainer? Sharp wit or sharp tongue? Your integrity, your spirit of generosity? Your charisma, your capability? Do you want to be known for your defenses? Your snark, the way you gossip or tear others down, or for the way you held others up when they needed it most? Can you be counted on, especially in times of trouble? Or are you uncomfortable in the face of adversity, forgetting our innate ability to do hard things? Are you a fierce competitor or a free spirit? A dedicated yogi, a couch potato? A control freak, or is your head in the clouds? Are you well-intentioned, brave, sour? Eccentric, a loner, an empath? Do you want to be known for the work you did? Or remembered for the way you treated people?
I lost my coolest uncle recently and it sparked me to consider this. I say he was the coolest, not only because he was, but because that’s the word everyone keeps using to describe him. He was in a rock band, he rode a Harley, and he was the true embodiment of calm, cool and collected. He was also known for his impeccable memory and could literally answer most of the Trivial Pursuit questions in the box. He was a great bullshitter, too, which I fully respect as a girl raised in the South. I describe him as solid and decent. He was so solid, in fact, that my wife used to seek him out at our crazy family gatherings, and she’d usually find him off to the side, cold beer in hand, ready to take it all in together, like an anchor ready to steady the ship. He was loyal and trustworthy. He was a great dad and stepdad, and because he was so fun and funky, I called him “Funkle.” I’ll always remember his oft repeated words of wisdom, “Endeavor to Persevere” and “The anticipation is always harder than the actual event.”
Consider this: what is your Legacy, what will you leave behind? Think for a moment about the you-shaped hole in the world of the people who love you when you’re no longer there. What will they remember best about you? How will they keep your spirit alive and thriving?
I often have the privilege of meeting people at the end of their lives, and sometimes they are not in the Frame of Mind to share themselves or who they once were. Sometimes they can’t even answer simple yes or no questions; all of their needs must be anticipated by the people caring for them. It’s a humbling experience, really. Sometimes I ask a loved one, “tell me more about what your mom was like when she was well.” If you couldn’t answer that question for yourself at the end of your life, what would you want your loved one to say?
Many years ago I met the elderly brother of a patient at the end of her life. His daughter in law was my colleague and she had warned that his flirtatious nature bordered on inappropriate. (I am a relentless, albeit harmless, flirt myself, so I was unfazed.) After talking with the gentleman for a while about his relationship with his sister and her life, he rose to leave the bedside. I rose, too, and shook his hand in both of mine, thanking him for his time and sharing his sister’s story. He grasped my handshake with both of his hands, and looked me in the eyes as he asked, “You’ve got a high flame, ya know that?” His daughter in law blushed and shooed him out of the room, but I didn’t mind that comment. I kind of loved it actually, and though it may have seemed inappropriate to some, I must admit, I’ve been trying to live up to my version of that idea for quite some time.
Last night we watched Nomadland in anticipation of the Golden Globes. It was a beautifully sad movie, and there was one line that resonated with me specifically. “What’s remembered, lives.” So take some time today to consider that, what will we remember about you? How will you live on?
Journal Entry 1/23/2021
What to do when you don’t know what to do (for someone else)
A few months ago, my friend was pregnant, and then suddenly, shockingly, devastatingly she wasn’t. I didn’t know how to be here for her. I don’t even like the words used to describe this terrible thing that happened: unpregnant, miscarried, “lost” her baby. This language implies she did something wrong, like her body failed or her womb somehow missed the mark. In fact, she did nothing wrong, she’s perfect, and worthy and loving, and she’ll be a beautiful mother someday. I didn’t know what to do, so I sent flowers. I sent a card, a card made with the label “empathy” on it. I felt so sad with her, but I didn’t know what to do.
Several years ago, I met a new colleague. She was probably 34 or 35 at the time. We were friendly, if not truly friends yet, when I learned she was a widow, and had been since the age of 32. The Love in my life just felt so full and perfect, I felt a little guilty about it for a split second. As if the loss of her love somehow made mine boastful. I also remember feeling so sad and shocked by this news, but since it had happened before I even knew her and before I knew her well, and she seemed to be coping quite adequately, what was I supposed to do outside of saying “I’m so sorry”? A few years later, I saw her at the grocery store and she shared that she was remarried, and expecting a child. She was glowing and we were both tearful. I remember feeling relieved for her. But why?
My wife is on zoom calls all day every day from her beautiful office, and she rarely turns the camera on. She recently described to me a scenario in which a European colleague was inadvertently seeking connection, as he holed up in his own office, away from his kids and the cacophony of family life, so she turned her camera just so he could see another human. What a simple, beautiful gift she gave him, and I don’t even think she realized how that gesture of kindness probably impacted this guy. In that moment, she knew what to do. Her response was so automatic and so right, and I was so inspired by that.
What if a friend is going through some heavy stuff, a lot of loss and transition at the same time, like many of us are these days, and they seem to be really struggling, and you try to help, to lend an ear, shower them with compassion. And then you may say something like, “I can tell you’re having a rough time.” And they deny the roughness. You know this friend, you love her, you see her and her pain. But she’s in deep and she doesn’t see it herself. What then?
The future is uncertain and at times terrifying. It’s hard to be hopeful at a time like this. It’s hard to be helpful at a time like this. Everyone seems to be faking it will we make it, but if you lean in and look more closely, you can see the unrest in their eyes. You can see the exhaustion, the fear, the sorrow. I find myself holding my breath, refraining from all this unsolicited advice I’ve been saving up. What makes me think I need to DO something about any of this anyway? Why can’t I just be? And if I really feel compelled to do something, to offer some small morsel of solace, is “how are you” enough? Is “I love you” sufficient? Can I just do the next loving thing?
It’s kind of like the practice of sitting together in stillness on the mat, maybe this is the best we can offer to someone else: our undivided presence. Our willingness to sit with them in the discomfort, the uncertainty, the sorrow. To bear witness to their pain, and not try to fix it, remembering there is nothing to figure out. This is just life. Stop trying to do, and just be.
Journal Entry 1/16/2021
I See You
I was raised in a small town south of the Mason Dixon line where everyone knew each other. When you went to Walmart, you knew the cashier, you passed a handful of people you knew in the store, and a few in the parking lot. And if you didn’t know the people personally, your parents knew them or there was some other connection. In a way, it felt like someone always had their nose in your business, but truly everyone was just kind of looking out for each other. It was an idyllic way to grow up, really; you can’t do too much wrong when everyone knows your name, or your stepdad, or which bike you rode to this illegal high school party. Somebody always has your back in a small southern town.
When I graduated and went off to the University, there were twice as many students there as there were people in my hometown. I had a little more anonymity then, but I stayed in that town for so long that I soon recognized many if not most of the people everywhere I went. In retrospect, seeing familiar faces everywhere was bitter and sweet.
When I moved to the hustling, bustling Northeast a decade ago, I was struck by how many people I didn’t know when I went out into the world. It was a huge adjustment for me and it took several years before I got comfortable being surrounded by strangers. And the culture is different here, too. There’s very little courtesy, opening doors, or even saying a friendly hello. Most people are just moving on to the next thing before this moment even arrives. The second year I lived here, I ran into someone I knew at the mall, and I was astounded! I was so excited to see someone I knew in public.
Maybe there’s a place you return to often in the real world, where you see real people who grab your attention. Tony is my favorite cashier at the grocery store, because he’s polite and efficient. Howard is my favorite clerk at the post office, because he has worked there for over 50 years and he is sweet and slow like molasses. (I often let others go before me in line to the next clerk so I can spend those precious five or ten minutes with Howard.) These are the people I like to see. But sometimes, we have people we don’t like to see. It’s ok to be honest about that. Maybe there’s someone at the yoga studio (virtual or otherwise) who we hope doesn’t show up for class. That person is too disruptive, too irreverent, that person just doesn’t get it. There have been countless times I hoped that that person didn’t slap their mat down next to mine. That person on your zoom call at work for whom you hold your breath, just hoping he doesn’t speak. I think it’s ok to be honest about our feelings when someone irritates us. But it’s also true that that person (wherever and whoever they may be) was set on my path for a specific reason. No, not just to annoy me, not to get in the way of my expectations, but to teach me something about myself.
Especially now when so many of us are feeling isolated due to quarantine, some days it’s nearly impossible to feel seen. Who is that person in your life that sees you for who you truly are, and loves you anyway? We have to give what we need in order to get it. But where to begin? Eye contact? Better listening skills? A meaningful conversation about how you’re really doing? Just sitting quietly together enjoying your morning coffee with no distractions, no devices? Ultimately, we have to truly see ourselves first before we can even begin to see others. When you look within, who do you see? Whoever she is, remember, she’s enough, she’s already perfect.
Journal Entry 1/1/2021
Core Values
We have arrived! Here we are again, on Day One of a new year, a day most of us have been anticipating like never before. I, for one, am so grateful that we finally get to put 2020 behind us; it almost feels like coming out of the dark and into the light.
For several weeks now, I’ve been considering my core values. What does that even mean? No, not how much you value your core work on the mat, at least not in this context. I’m sure it means something different to everyone, but to me, it’s a deep inquiry into what lies at the center of me, what really makes me tick. Ask yourself, “What deeply entrenched personal characteristics help sustain me in my day to day life? What is true and lasting for me, even in times of trouble?”
Here’s what I came up with:
Respect. Respect for myself, for all human beings, all God’s creatures, even those with whom I disagree, even those who look or act different than me. True respect lends itself to treating others as I wish to be treated at a very basic level. Being kind and courteous to all I meet, and knowing that each is fighting his or her own private battles that may not show on the outside. Looking people in the eye and seeing them, making them feel seen. This is such a huge part of the way I move through the world.
Compassion. Compassion and respect go hand in hand, but I think of compassion as “loving respect.” It’s responding from a place of empathy, not reacting quickly, especially in those more uncomfortable or inflamed interactions. Compassion is a merciful tenderness, not for use just when times are tough, or if we’re going through something, but all the time, every day, in each interaction. I highly recommend honing and flexing your compassion muscles. And maybe most importantly, widening the circle of compassion to include yourself.
Gratitude. It’s so popular to be grateful. In all things, at all times. Count your blessings and all that jazz. The practice of gratitude has been a cornerstone of my true self for a number of years now. But in 2020, I found that it can be exhausting to always focus on the positive things. So I’m softening around that all day/every day approach lately, but gratitude is still very important to me. It helps me keep a (mostly) positive outlook. It helps me notice the tiniest pinpoint of light in my darkest moments. And even when what I’m grateful for is hard to find, it keeps me grounded somehow.
Self Awareness. This may be the most profound of my core values. It can be quite uncomfortable to become aware of yourself and lean into the jagged edges. It can be lonely to become your highest self, too. It may even take some really heavy lifting. But if you’re willing to, you can and will continue to become a fuller and brighter version of your true self. Maybe it will take drawing boundaries for the first time in your life, or recognizing habits that no longer serve you and honoring that deeper, truer part of yourself that tells you it’s time to let that habit or that person go. Maybe you’re very sensitive, and you can recognize when that sensitivity is good and when it doesn’t serve you so well. Whatever it is that you need to recognize and soften around, just remember you are already perfect, jagged edges and all.
I invite you to investigate this deeper notion of your core values on this New Year’s Day. Today, we are offered a fresh start once again. Hearts have been heavy, disappointment has been often and relentless, but we get to put that behind us now and step forward into the light. Take a deep breath and stay hopeful. And when you forget to be hopeful, take another deep breath and start anew, again. Happy New Year and Namaste.
Journal Entry 12/23/2020
A Year of Softening
This has been a year of softening in so many ways. The most assuring thing to have in life is a soft place to land, whether that’s a relationship, a trusted friend who sees you for who you truly are and loves you anyway, or even the yoga mat. To me, a soft place to land is a comfort zone, a place or person with whom you can be authentically, unapologetically yourself, a place to reset and regroup, a place to return to yourself. Maybe for you, it’s your home in general, or your favorite corner of the couch, where your knitting basket is tucked nearby. Maybe it’s in the arms of your love, or spending time in nature. I’ve always loved soft lighting (no overheads, please), softer voices, and soft blankets and clothes. Maybe its my deep empath energy, maybe it’s just a preference, but I’m noticing this need for softer vibes more and more in recent months.
When I’m teaching yoga, one of my personal catch phrases is, “Even as you hold the pose, where can you soften?” I’ve come to see this (and so many other aspects of yoga) as metaphors for life. Standing in Mountain pose, for example, with your fingertips reaching for the sky, can you soften your jaw, your tongue, the muscles of your face? Can you allow your shoulders to melt down away from your ears? Can you relax your belly, stand heavy in your feet? This concept is such a beautiful way to carry our practice off the mat and into the world. Even as you struggle with Life Itself, where can you soften (emotionally, mentally, physically, spiritually)? In an argument with a loved one, can you deepen your breath and be more present, more open? While driving on the crowded highways and byways full of rushing holiday shoppers, can you soften by taking your time, relaxing your body, settling your head against the headrest and loosening your grip on the steering wheel? My most challenging task is softening the hard edges of my expectations. Of others, and of myself. Thankfully, there is always space for us to soften.
This year especially, we have been called to soften into the unknown, into new ways of thinking and being, maybe into unexpected fractures in what we thought was guaranteed in life. Many of us are even softening into the losses for which we weren’t prepared. Personally, I am feeling compelled to soften into what I cannot control, into what no longer serves me or the life I want to live.
For example, I was certain the neighbor guy down the street was a complete Neanderthal because for months he parked his trucks (with oversized trailers), one on each side of the street, making it difficult (and at times dangerous) for cars to pass. I fantasized about leaving a mean-spirited note on his windshield imploring him to be more neighborly, more considerate, more aware of the strife he was causing on our street (maybe it was my strife alone). Then one day this Fall I was walking down that way, and he was out on the front lawn putting up Halloween decorations. I thought to myself, “There he is, that asshole.” But sure enough as I walked by, he was so pleasant, said “hello,” looked me in the eye, and joked about his kids’ love of Halloween. I immediately felt a little burst of warmth bloom in my chest, and I found myself softening toward him. I was suddenly so grateful I didn’t leave that note. And I bet if I had knocked on the front door of his home and asked him to reconsider his parking job, he may have done it. I imagined him saying, with a smile, “Sure thing, Neighbor, let me get my keys!” Now we wave at each other when I pass by, and so what, sometimes I have to slow down and pay attention to where his trucks are parked, so I can safely pass. The good thing is I was able to release my unwarranted contempt of this guy and soften. Soften. Soften.
So as we ease into the rest of the week, maybe it’s not the holiday celebration we expected, but it’s the one we’ve got. Maybe it’ll be quieter, softer, away from family, separate from our regular traditions. Allow it to remind you of better holidays in the past and an appreciation of those yet to come. Take some deeper breaths and find the deeper meaning of the season. Can we soften into knowing this: we don’t have to rush forward into accepting what is, but if we practice softening, life (and the holidays this year) may feel a little less disappointing. Try to count your blessings, lean into the moments of joy, and know that you’re not alone.
Journal Entry 11/10/2020
What To Do When You Don’t Know What To Do (For Yourself)
Being locked down for over six months now (and taking it seriously) is not without its challenges. No matter how well adjusted and mentally healthy you are, no matter the resources at your disposal, it’s just that the freedoms to which we have become accustomed are not available to us right now. We are left feeling “without.” And with fewer distractions from the outside world, maybe even less to look forward to… no happy hours with friends, no weekend getaways… that old adage keeps returning to my mind: The quieter you get, the more you can hear.
Life has changed so acutely, the future is uncertain and much of the time “which end is up” remains a mystery. Ever a proponent of and advocate for self care, I ask myself now: What can I do for myself now in this time of change and uncertainty? Be grateful and honest. Practice yoga. Read, write, rest. Keep laughing. Keep crying. Cook healthy meals, because I can. Ask for and accept help. Give myself grace. Allow the story to unfold instead of repeating and dwelling on the bullshit inner narrative. Just be here now, knowing I don’t have to know everything, or how my life will look an hour from now, let alone next year at this time. Keep doing the next loving thing for myself. Connect with the most positive people in my life, often and consistently, those who truly see and love me. Reach out to a friend, maybe the old fashioned way, by phone, hear her voice, listen to her pain, her sorrow, her tiny victories. Serve others in order to serve my own good. And in doing all these things, in practicing all of this, things grand and small, let go of judgment, release the inner critic. Reframe, recommit, practice, practice, practice.
I’ve been talking to myself in a loving way, using mantras: “I am sad right now (it’s temporary),” “I don’t have to know everything,” “I am already ok.” Even as I practice yoga, I am trying to be kinder to myself. When the teacher suggests something ridiculous like, “balance now on your left pinky toe and right earlobe, and just breathe,” I will laugh and roll my eyes, but I will also honor my body’s wisdom and maybe just “balance” in child’s pose instead. Protecting myself and my health (physical, mental, emotional) is my way of protecting those I love, the patients I serve, the community, and humanity. One breath at a time.
Sometimes, you just won’t believe how your life is turning out. But Suspend that disbelief, because if you’re not okay, it’s not over.
Journal Entry from June 3, 2020
I’ve never been good at getting my steps in. My Fitbit is only set to 5000. But for the last week I’ve been getting my steps and sometimes up to 1000 more. I realized this morning that I’m pacing. I’m not just walking to get steps. I’m walking to process my fear for the future of humanity. Rarely ever speechless, I recognize that I don’t know what to say or do. But I know that saying and doing nothing is unacceptable. How do you process your fear? Do you load your gun (Just in case) or do you have the good sense to pause for a moment and try to imagine what it would feel like if it were your son or your husband or your brother that was strangled by a police officer, someone hired to serve and protect? Do you peacefully protest? Do you cry in the arms of your wife and lament on how we can do any small thing to quell/heal the injustices to our brothers and sisters that happen on a daily basis? The injustices that have been happening for hundreds of years and we are just now, a lot of us, taking the time to notice and feel? do you reach out to your black friends and make sure that they are OK? What the hell do you even say? I’m a social worker and a yoga teacher and a self-proclaimed peacemaker and I don’t know what to say. I offer words of comfort for a living. I have none to offer now. I listen for a living, too, so I’m trying that instead.
Cheryl Strayed always says Put your self in the way of beauty. I try to do that every day. I try to hunt for it, on and off the mat. Right now, like many of you, I feel helpless and hopeless. And all I know to do is to point my battered broken heart in the direction of being part of the solution, and not part of the problem.
Tuesday night at the end of class, the teacher invited us to practice meditation for eight minutes and 46 seconds, the exact length of time that Mr. George Floyd was in police custody and subsequently died. This particular meditation was lead in hero’s pose with the eyes Softly open. After a few moments I found my eyes start to feel tired and heavy. I immediately chastised myself For not being able to stay calm and focused for this short period of time that it took a man to die at the hands of the police.
{I didn’t share this over the summer because I didn’t feel like what I had to say was worthy of saying. I found myself shutting down during this (once again) time of unrest. This entry feels unfinished, because my feelings are unfinished. I hope you feel unfinished, too, because our work is far from done here. I felt uncomfortable, and I still do, and I hope you do, too, because that discomfort will lead us (at least a step) in the right direction).}
Journal Entry 5/25/2020
Stuck
I’ve so badly wanted to write to you in recent weeks. I’ve been trying to fuel my creative fire by taking lots of notes on my phone to prompt me to write. I’ve promised myself (and the ethers, I guess) that I’ll write tomorrow, no question. Tomorrow comes, and it goes. Again. And again. And I just can’t seem to tap into that power that propels me forward on the page. Naturally, I’ve torn myself down over this. I just feel stagnant in so many ways right now. I’ve noticed on the mat, I feel stuck. My body feels tight, my mind feels sluggish, unable to focus on much of anything. My emotions are wild and varied and unpredictable, just like the times we’re living in.
I found some hand written journal entries from the beginning of March (2020). That feels like it was such a long time ago, such a different time. Back then, I was practicing 10/10 twice a day; that’s ten minutes of meditation, followed by ten minutes of writing, once in the morning and once in the evening. What struck me most in reading these entries was this feeling that I was, once again, on the verge of something. It almost feels like there was some big shift coming, and I had a feeling I needed it. The other interesting thing that occurred to me was that I suddenly got it! I suddenly understood why people write in journals! It’s so you can look back and see what the hell you were thinking…
“My mind never stops.
I want to return to a place of gentler kinder language, no gossip no complaining.
I’m looking forward to yoga this morning, and my hazelnut latte coffee date with wife in a few minutes. See? I’m always looking ahead or back, so challenging to be in this moment now.
Trying to focus on gratitude- grateful for the way the sun dances through the trees and into this room this time of day, grateful for my racing and busy mind because it’s an indication that my brain is strong and functioning properly. Grateful for my ability to practice being still although it comes and goes.
The night before daylight savings time- Grateful for the light returning tomorrow, even though we lose an hour, we will gain so much. (Sure feels like we have gained a hell of a lot of time since then!)
Grateful for my cousin Michael, my soul friend from birth. (No truer words were ever spoken.)
Then just a few days before lock down: I’m feeling a bit untethered lately in need of some grounding. (Perhaps this was an indication or a call to slow down, to recommit to what’s important.)
I am missing love even though I have so much.
Last week I tried to be very good to myself. Still grateful for it all, but can be grumpy if needed (two things can be true and felt at once).”
For about a week now, I’ve been asking myself: What do you know for sure about who you are? Can anyone even answer that question right now? I know I’m kind and thoughtful, but I can come up with little else. Maybe kind and thoughtful is enough. Maybe it’s enough right now just to take a long pause. On the yoga mat, in child’s pose, in Savasana, in life. Even if it takes a week, or a month. Release the pressure from myself, take baby steps and keep letting go.
Journal Entry 4/29/2020
Don’t Should Your Pants
I don’t know about y’all but I was pretty much raised on shoulds. Worrying about the expectations of others feels almost like a Southern tradition. Throw in a little Irish Catholic guilt, and you’ve got yourself a (potential) recipe for disaster. In defense of my upbringing, I will say that should hasn’t always been a bad thing; sometimes it can serve to keep you aligned, but sometimes it only serves to make you feel off-kilter.
A number of years ago, I attended a seminar in preparation for my social work licensure exam. The professor, a gifted and hilarious social worker herself, invited the participants into a conversation about “shoulds.” Apparently, in her wisdom, should was something Dr. D had given up long ago. She had funny phrases to remind herself to let go of this particular brand of judgement, such as, ”Don’t ‘should’ your pants,” or “Don’t ‘should’ all over yourself.” Honestly, that was the first time I ever recognized what an impact all that shoulding had had on my life.
Pretty soon thereafter, I began to practice removing should from my vocabulary and from my mindset. It became a red flag in conversations, and I seemed to notice should everywhere I went. Even though I was pretty successful in removing it from my vocabulary, the essence of should had stuck with me, and probably always will.
Even now as we are being asked to follow so many rules and precautionary measures at this strange time in our history, should keeps creeping up on me. Shouldn’t I be walking 30 minutes a day or riding my bike for an hour three times a week? Shouldn’t I be doing the more vigorous yoga classes? I’ve been reading 3-4 books a week during quarantine, which isn’t unusual for me really, but these days, as I’m relaxing on the couch with a good book, the shoulds wriggle into my mind like a song that gets stuck. Shouldn’t you at least clean the kitchen or switch over the laundry before you read ten more chapters? Shouldn’t I a, b, c, or d, instead of what I’m doing now?? I think maybe the only thing I should do is give up should again.
Lately, when I’m teaching yoga (virtually, of course) I find that I spend the first few moments with tears in my eyes. Not a full blown ugly cry or anything, just an overwhelming sense of gratitude thinking of all the people near and far who love me enough to support my teaching practice, yes, but more importantly, who love themselves enough to return to the mat. Shouldn’t I keep it together and not show emotion when I’m guiding yoga, especially at a time like this? Nah. I think I’ll “let the snot fly” when needed, be with what is, and set that should aside.
Let’s focus on doing what we can do instead of what we should do, not just now in a time of crisis, but for all the days ahead.
Journal Entry 4/6/2020
Be Still in the Marketplace
I taught my first official online yoga class last week. I had a lot of help, and it went well. I am fortunate to live in a quiet place, we don’t share walls with other humans. Our neighborhood has always been quiet, but with everyone sheltering in place, it’s quieter still, especially in the evening. The only sounds I heard while teaching were the floorboards creaking overhead, which was my wife practicing with me upstairs, paying attention to the video in case I required technical assistance. This was a welcome distraction because it made me feel supported.
During YTT we were assigned this great book by Judith Lasater, Living Your Yoga. She talked about the concept of being “still in the marketplace.” Prior to learning this, I would try (without much success) to create a very specific environment to practice meditation. Noise cancelling headphones, tell wife to be totally quiet and leave me alone for x amount of minutes. Sedate the pets (jk). Airplane mode the phone. So silly looking back to think that that was an accurate representation of what life is really like. Somewhere along the way, I started practicing meditation without wielding any control over the environment. I allowed the environment to be part of the experience, because that’s life, right? I started meditating without headphones, with the door open, almost as if I were inviting in all distractions in an effort to train myself to be still. I started practicing being “still in the marketplace.“
I took a walk in the sunshine around our neighborhood this morning. I had my ear buds in, listening to the Conan Needs a Friend podcast. I noticed violets growing by the side of the road, which took me back to happy memories of childhood (welcome distraction- nature). Then I noticed a lady having a loud conversation on the phone walking my way (unwelcome distraction- loud person). Then I noticed my thoughts, “I don’t want to walk any farther.”
My aunt shared that she asked her husband to give her 90 minutes Thursday night to practice yoga, and urged him not to disturb her. He graciously agreed, he even left the house to take a ride, then apparently forgot, and came banging into the house at 8:45 pm. Just before Savasana, turning on the tv in the next room and going about his life as if his wife weren’t in the next room, trying to relax. We laughed about this.
Saturday morning, I had a similar situation with wife while practicing yoga. She came downstairs and headed for the kitchen just as Savasana was beginning. I could feel my angst returning. “Honey?” I called sweetly, “could you grab my eye pillow for me, please? It’s time for Savasana.” She did, and I clearly thought she had received and integrated my heavy hint. But nope, she chose those exact moments to LOUDLY chop vegetables and SPIN lettuce in our clunky old salad spinner for approximately 90 rotations. I did not find this relaxing.
Yesterday, while practicing, I got warm and opened the window in my yoga room, which faces the street. There was a lovely breeze, and I noticed some other welcome distractions. The sweet voice of my neighbor, Nate (he’s 4, and he’s my favorite), as he played outside with his dad and his sister. I noticed the sound of a plane flying overhead, which reminded me that someday we’ll get to travel this world again. I could hear the birds chirping, reminding me that Spring has sprung, a time for renewal and returning and fresh air and warm thunderstorms I can take in with the windows open.
Somehow right now at this strange time in our history, I am requiring even more stillness. More quiet, more solitude. I’m reemploying my 8p - 8a rule for turning my phone off. I’m turning my phone off completely on Sundays. I have the luxury of drawing some boundaries at work and taking a few half days per week to myself. I’m learning to share the common space with wife, as we shelter in place, together.
Learning to be still in the marketplace has been my life’s biggest challenge so far. Ask yourself now if there is a way for you to be more still, to be more thoughtful, to ease into this strange and scary time in our lives? Can you breathe more deeply, feel more fully, relax your shoulders away from your ears? Take it all in, and let it all be. Because we’re still here. Together. In the marketplace of it all.
Journal Entry 3/28/2020
What’s Your Story?
I come from a long line of story tellers and love listening to a good story. I remember hearing my grandfather spin a good yarn, and it didn’t even matter what the story was about, the way he told it was always entertaining. Knowing the stories of those who came before us is a powerful way to learn where we came from, what we’re made of. The stories of my grandmother, and her grandmother, and hers before all live in me.
I listen to the Moth Radio Hour podcast every week, and enjoy listening to people from all over the world share their stories. The stories are powerful and funny and scary and sad and beautiful. There’s an aspect of each one that feels relatable, and it turns out, we all have a story.
Yoga has a story, too. It began with one person teaching a series of poses to a group, in order to prepare for meditation, with, of course, the ultimate goal in mind: Enlightenment. Eventually, those people passed the story down, and then those people handed it down again, and again and again. It’s like a game of telephone, where by the time the last person in the circle receives the message, it’s taken on new meaning, and nuances that were not first intended. Yoga is not as simple in modern times as it was those thousands of years ago, but the story of how it began is no less important.
My own story has changed, too. My grandmother was the last person in my life who didn’t know the truth of who I am. I made a conscious decision to shelter her from the whole story because I knew she was old, and very traditional and unbending in her beliefs. When she died, I felt oddly liberated that there was no one left in my life for me to disappoint. There was no one left to “protect” from my true self. It’s hard to believe that today is the first time I’ve ever written the word “wife” on here or alluded to the fact that I’m married to a woman. It’s always been a part of my story, but now it feels more real somehow, because it’s not hidden anymore.
So, what is your story? Not only how do you wish to be remembered when you’re gone, but how do you want to remember yourself a few weeks from now? Or tomorrow? When you check in with yourself, especially now, what do you find? How are you showing up, and is that story one you can feel good about? Is there a part of your story you wish you could change? Then change it. You have the power to bend the narrative, as it’s happening. You can show up for yourself (and consequently for others) in a way that makes the story worth telling.
Journal Entry 3/23/2020
Taken for Granted
I remember clearly after grad school when I was unemployed and tight on cash, I started shopping at Big Lots more than Target, Walmart more than Kroger… I was trying to spend my limited funds more wisely. I said to a friend at the time, “Even when I get back on my feet, I’m still going to shop smarter to save money.” It seemed so simple at the time but of course once I got a job and money wasn’t so tight, my financial status didn’t improve because a. I was terrible with money, and b. I took for granted all that struggle. I didn’t let it teach me anything. When the chips are down and shit is hard, we get this strange wisdom, right? We see things a little more clearly, we understand how to get a little more savvy at this thing called life. We get a glimpse of what truly matters. And as soon as everything is back to “normal,” we forget all that wisdom, those lessons we were given.
What have you taken for granted until now? How can you reconstruct your thinking and what you’ll be grateful for when we return to some sense of normalcy? I have a serious relationship with food. I used to call my mom from the pay phone at school to ask what was for dinner. I abuse food, and I have for a long time. I eat too much or too little when I’m sad. I overeat and forget to breathe when I’m scarfing down my meals. I use food for comfort, though the way I use it is quite uncomfortable. Now that I am an established adult, I am accustomed to going to the grocery store daily. I don’t know what I am going to want to eat Tuesday. So I wait until Tuesday to find out. Every morning over coffee, we discuss what’s for dinner. This is just normal in our household. So now that we are not able to go to the store every day, I have had to adjust my habits. I had taken for granted that ability to go to the store every day and basically get whatever I had in mind. And if they were out of something, I would just stop at a second store on the way home. Essentially, I haven’t gone without something I wanted to eat in a very long time.
These past few weeks have been, as a result, very challenging for me. However, it’s been good for me as well. For example, I made bread from scratch. It was so humble and simple, and it turned out beautiful and delicious, not to mention gratifying; making the dough the night before, waking up to see how much it had risen overnight, waiting patiently for it to bake. The whole process was awesome! Maybe I wouldn’t have even tried to bake bread under different circumstances. And since I’m not going to the store every day now, I’ve had to practice being more flexible. And as a result, we have wasted way less food, because we have to think ahead and use what we have and be more creative.
There’s so much we can’t control right now, but control is just an illusion anyway. I was feeling down and a little helpless on Saturday, so I got creative. I made homemade cards and sent them out to people I love. In homemade envelopes! It was fun and made me feel better and more connected.
I was supposed to be in Denver this weekend with a handful of people who mean the most to me in the world, celebrating a very important person’s birthday. I had been looking so forward to the trip and until about a week ago, I had every intention of going because I’m “a healthy young person” who is “NOT at risk.” I had taken for granted that anything could interfere with my plans.
I’ve taken for granted the fact that I can drive 20 mins across the bridge and have brunch with my best friend in Fishtown. I can do that ANY time I want, so I haven’t made it a priority.
I’ve taken for granted that I can do my work; that I can go visit my patients wherever they agree to that, and hold their hands as they cry about their living losses, and comfort them closely and be there with them in a way that feels connected. That’s what I normally get to do.
But right now, I can’t.
I might not be able to for quite some time.
And you know what? That’s ok. I am willing myself to be content with staying home and slowing down, just as the Universe is directing me to. I am going to be content with cooking more, and not eating in restaurants for now, and reading more books and reconnecting to myself and my loved ones at home. I can do my own pedicure, it won’t be perfect, but that’s going to be ok for now. I can still live a full life, right here, right now, and so can you. And maybe our lives will be more thoughtful as a result. When all this blows over, and we can live our lives in a way to which we are more accustomed, think how happy and free we will feel. Keep on keepin’ on, ya’ll. We got this.
Journal Entry 3/15/2020
Livin’ on the Edge
Do you ever feel like you’re on the verge of something? The verge of tears, the verge of a breakthrough? Maybe you feel like you’re on the verge of giving up, or giving in? Maybe on the verge of something bigger, something better? Honestly, I almost always feel like I am on the verge of something.
Last week, as I was preparing to go out to dinner with a friend in the city, I started my regular routine of edging toward panic over what to wear. Said friend is gorgeous, and polished, and always dressed to the nines. I am a much more natural person; I don’t wear make-up, hardly ever wear heels. Wearing lip gloss and my hair down is a LOT for me, actually, and I have spent years trying to reconcile and accept that within myself. For some reason, as I prepared to sort myself for this dinner date, I thought, “I’m going to just be me, tonight.” Granted, I know this person already loves me for who I am, and she couldn’t possibly care less what I am wearing. She sees me, loves me and understands me (which really helps). But for the first time ever, I got dressed to go somewhere without feeling stressed, without changing my outfit seven times, without criticizing myself in the mirror. I threw on my favorite jeans and cardigan, a super cute scarf and my favorite earrings, and I was out the door. I felt SO good about myself that night. I shared this with my friend, and she was very supportive, as ever. She looked right at me with a smile in her eyes, and she said, “To me, you just look like…. YOU.”
This may seem like a strange story, one that shouldn’t happen to a forty something (seemingly) confident woman, but I’ve spent my whole life like this. Comparing myself to the other women in my life; as a child it was my older, more fashionable cousins. As an adolescent, to all the other girls at school. I even compare myself to my best friends. I compare myself to a perspective crowd of people, to strangers I haven’t even met yet. It doesn’t matter where I go, I am always hyper aware of how I look in relation to the other women in the room. But that time last week, when I consciously chose to be myself instead of striving for something outside of me, that changed my perspective. I felt a little giddy the whole time, like I had pulled something off in a way. When really, there was no trick. I had just surrendered.
The whole thing makes me feel like I’m on the verge of something good, maybe I’m on the verge of being who I really am. Maybe I’m on the verge of letting go of my old crusty ways of being hard on myself and just accepting that I am already whole, that I am already perfect (imperfections and all).
In these very specific trying times, with all the fear and angst and uncertainty, about possible illness and how we can protect ourselves and each other, it does feel a little like we’re living on the edge. It’s important to remember that stress also compromises the immune system, so whatever the coming days and weeks hold for you, remember to breathe, limit your exposure to media, be kind to yourself. Maybe this is the universe’s way of reminding us to slow down. To return home- to your house, to your partner, to your family, to yourself. Be well and Namaste.
Journal Entry 2/10/2020
Any Given Moment
Rearrange your thinking to understand that every moment we get is given to us. It’s something to be grateful for even if it’s not what we expect. Even this rainy dreary day is full of moments given to us, one by one, for introspection and looking within. Even our subconscious gives us moments of enlightenment: the toxic people we’ve let go of that we dream about enter into our psyche when we’re sleeping; thoughts of mistakes we’ve made or even dreams about smoking cigarettes, something we haven’t done in six or seven years. When the teacher holds you too long in child’s pose on the mat and you’re ready to move and your mind is rushing forward, that moment is given to you, to stop, slow down, breathe on purpose.
Take that moment to assess:
What are you aware of? The rain on the roof, your breath moving through your body? Your partner’s grouchy attitude? Your response to said grouchiness? What are you anticipating? Angst, joy, ok-ness? In any given moment, just be aware, be here now. Each moment is a gift, and we are exactly where we are meant to be in every single one.
Every moment is a milestone. The moment you get the diagnosis. The moment you get dumped. You’re hired! You’re fired. You come down with a cold when you really don’t have time to be sick. The moment your boss pairs you with the coworker or you can’t stand for a special project, the moment you turn 50. The moment you propose and she says yes. Not equally joyful moments but all important, each one meaningful. The transition from one moment to the next is effortless even when we’re holding on for dear life. When it feels like you can not let go, or make it another minute in this tumultuous life we lead, allow the breath to anchor you to the present, and keep opening your heart and mind to the gift of the moment.
Journal Entry 12/31/2019
Effort Less
Do you struggle on the mat when the teacher instructs you to engage in loving kindness meditation? May you be happy? May you be healthy? May you be free from suffering? First toward yourself, then someone you love, then someone you don’t. How does that feel, inviting kindness toward yourself and then a loved one? And how does it feel toward the person you struggle with? Maybe on some days, the person you struggle with is also the person you hold dear. I think it’s ok to admit to ourselves that anything we practice can be very challenging, whether that’s standing half moon pose, or being more patient with your kid. It’s not an on-demand performance, nothing ever is.
It’s a misnomer that everything we do on the mat is effortless. It’s a tall order to think that simply stepping foot over the threshold of a yoga studio automatically guarantees our entrance into sanctuary of the mind, body and spirit. Sometimes it’s hard to be still on the mat, just as it’s sometimes hard to be a human making your way through the world. Often the mind keeps churning thoughts and we’re already thinking about next week, meanwhile the teacher is asking us to focus on the breath, or find stillness. We’re reminded to be here now, notice what you notice, notice if you’re restless or if your mind is rushing forward wondering what’s next. Minds rush forward, it’s what they do. Minds wander, almost constantly. This is the human condition. How can we calm down, center ourselves, be kind to ourselves (and others) and try remain in the moment simultaneously, when the world demands that we hustle, stay constantly busy to prove ourselves to the world, and behave “like a boss?”
So I invite you (and myself) now, on this last night of this decade, to endeavor to do less. To effort less. Stop trying so hard and stop (once a-damn-gain) being so hard on yourself. Recommit to yourself and what serves you best, and if you don’t yet know what that means, promise yourself that you’ll take space to figure it out. All that hustlin’ certainly isn’t helping me feel more relaxed, how about you?
Namaste and Happy 2020! May you be happy, may you be healthy, may you be free from suffering.
Journal Entry 12/6/2019
Rush, Rush; Hurry, Hurry
When life feels rocky or things feel low, elevate yourself by looking up. When I remember to look skyward, it never fails that I feel the slightest loosening, a lifting of my spirit. Whether that’s on the mat or out in the world, looking up physically invites the mood to reach new heights, too. Just a fraction of a second to remind yourself to be in awe of the world around you can shift your perspective. How can you take better care of yourself when life gets challenging? Take yourself out into the world and talk to people and smile at strangers. Buy yourself a new lip gloss or a new book to lose yourself in (or both). Take yourself on a coffee date, maybe even just a drive through Starbucks on your way to the next big thing. Make yourself a delicious and nutritious dinner, or treat yourself to a massage (even the 15 minute one in the middle of the mall). It’s so easy to put yourself last (especially this time of year) when the life you intend to lead becomes a life that is not designed by you at all. The rush and busyness of the season, and of our lives, can easily get in the way of self care. The next thing you know it’s been a week and you haven’t even touched your yoga mat.
When it feels like everybody wants a piece of you, how do you find peace for you? Sometimes the last thing you want to do is be kind or compassionate or caring. But just as we return to our breath again and again (and again) on the yoga mat, in the same way we return our hands to our hearts in practice, we can return to our true selves when we feel stressed or undone. Breathe mindfully and on purpose, maybe tap that inner well of patience when you least expect you can. Take this scenario: you’re rushing to get out of the grocery store and home to your family after a long day, and there’s an older person in front of you with her cart, taking her sweet time. Instead of blowing past her, maybe use this as a reminder that you, too, could use some slowing down. Use that extra 60 seconds it will take you to get out of the store to feel your feet touching the floor as you walk at a leisurely pace, and maybe for the first time that day focus on your breath.
Moving your body will never fail to improve your status either. Have you ever found yourself lacking energy or motivation to make it to your yoga class, for whatever reason you just don’t imagine you can get yourself there? But you go anyway, and you practice, and you feel relief. You feel lighter, and you stand a little taller, and your chin is up, and your spirit is rising. Did you ever rush to get to the studio after work or in heavy traffic, and you make it just in time to shove your mat into place? You spend the first few moments of class allowing the dust to settle, feeling your heart pound in your chest, feeling that frenetic energy thrumming through your body, all the while feeling grateful that you got there. You made it back to your mat, to the gift of your practice. You did that for yourself.
When all else fails and you feel like shutting yourself away from the world, try reaching out instead. Even if it’s just a text message to a trusted friend, reach for love. Do yourself this favor: Open yourself to being supported and cared for by others the way you support and care for others every day. You are worth it.
Journal Entry 11/27/2019
Family Matters
Ever wonder why Friendsgiving has become so popular? This time of year can be both sacred and stressful. As much as we love our families, it’s sometimes hard to like them. How can someone who was your idol as a kid now make your stomach turn with their politics? How can the person you grew up alongside, your partner in crime, now be such a source of disappointment, unrest, bigotry, (fill in the blank)? How is it possible that your favorite cousin from childhood turns out to be racist, and your sweet uncle has become a bitter old curmudgeon that no one wants to be around? And how do we reconcile that?
Remember that two (or more) emotions can be true at once. We can love and deeply dislike a person at the same time. You love and respect your mother on principle, but you may not approve of her principles. And that’s ok. We don’t have to like everything.
How can we use our yoga practice off the mat to manage our own expectations of the people we are often forced to break bread with this time of year? How can we respond using what we’ve learned on the mat, and take that peaceful serenity out into the world?
If a primary lesson of our yoga practice is to let go of what no longer serves… maybe it doesn’t serve me well to serve mashed potatoes to a family member who brings a heightened sense of danger to my table. And maybe you think you don’t have a choice about who you share your turkey dinner with on the third Thursday of November. But we always have choices. Maybe position yourself at the table near an ally. Or take a few moments alone in the bathroom to just breathe. Start the day with a vigorous or calming yoga practice before you enter into the chaos. Or have a glass (or three) of wine to take the edge off. Practice self care, practice self-awareness. Practice open-heartedness, but always be true to yourself.
Almost every Thanksgiving while I was in college, I faked sick. I have fond memories of staying home alone at my apartment and reading a book, or sharing a meal with friends instead of family. It didn’t occur to me until this very morning that I missed out on many family thanksgivings by design. Maybe it seems cynical to deliberately skip Thanksgiving dinner with family, but it turns out this was really just better for my mental health.
Start now designing a better Thanksgiving holiday for next year. Choose to do Friendsgiving instead, or take a long weekend away for once. Maybe you won’t feel well that day. Or maybe you can learn to inhale and exhale all day long, knowing this one day of tolerance, and maybe even acceptance, will make you stronger.
Journal Entry 11/17/2019
Enough Space
For quite some time now, I have been meaning to update my website and write a lot and share my feelings and live up to what I intended to do. At the beginning of the year, I resolved to write a new journal entry and post an inspirational piece every month. I did post monthly until August and then I barely fell short. I posted on September 3rd instead of within the month of August, missing my own self-imposed deadline by just a few days. And I haven’t posted since.
It’s November now, and I keep telling myself, “I owe three entries.” As if we owe anyone anything. Every day I berate myself to get that done. The message being: I have fallen behind, I am inadequate, once again, not enough. Never enough. I didn’t keep my commitment to myself. I have failed (myself). As if I am somehow lacking, as if I am not already whole.
What if what I write sucks? What if even I don’t like what I have to say? What if nobody likes what I say? Does it even matter? All these crashing thoughts, bright and loud in my mind, bombarding me daily, causing tension and over-analysis, it just doesn’t make much sense for a person who is trying to do one thing: speak her own truth.
Then I took a moment to think about what “resolution” means. To resolve. To re-solve. To solve again. To find a solution again. This was a lightbulb moment for me, and I thought, I can just re-up. I can just try again. I can start again. For some reason, it just occurred to me that even though I’ve been so hard on myself for all these years, maybe I don’t have to be any more. Maybe I can just be right here, right where I am, and not beat myself up every chance I get. I allowed myself to consider that maybe if I were gentler toward myself, I wouldn’t feel so angsty and pressured all the time.
My really sweet, really smart friend who was the guest on a podcast this week took an opportunity at the end to invite the audience to accept who we are on the way to becoming who we want to be. I felt socked in the gut. Why is that simple invitation so difficult to accept? Why is it so much easier to beat the shit out of ourselves emotionally than to just ease into each day and accept ourselves as we are?
One of the most important things I’ve learned on the yoga mat is the concept creating space. Space in our bodies, yes, but more radically, space between ourselves and what no longer serves us. Beating myself up has literally never served me. I’m not wired to respond to tough love, I never have been. I’m more of a soak me in love type of gal. So why I thought for forty-some years that treating myself like shit was an effective way to become the best version of myself was a good idea, I’ll never know.
So starting today, I am taking the concept of space and using it to its fullest potential. I am allowed to take up space, I am allowed to create space, and I am giving myself space, whatever that means in any given moment. I am creating space between myself and my self-deprecating attitude. I am choosing (once again) to remind myself that no matter what, I am enough. I am doing enough. I am writing enough. I am enough even on my worst day. I am going to give myself the gift of grace for once, and see how that might serve me instead.
Journal Entry 9/3/2019
Show Up and How
One day last weekend, I woke up happy. Frankly, it took me a moment to figure out what that feeling of lightness in my chest was. At first, I felt a little trepidation, already worrying that the feeling would be fleeting, and then I just made a snap decision to show up for it. To show up for it for as long as it lasted, so I did.
I used to wake up like this almost every day; excited for work, or yoga, or my relationship, or all of the above. I spent a number of years like this, feeling like there was always something big to look forward to. But life has worn me down, as life tends to do, and I have forgotten what that unbridled joy feels like. I was already clinging to it in that first instant, praying it wouldn’t fade away, somehow feeling like it would. Brené calls this “forboding joy,” instead of just enjoying the moment, we’re already convincing ourselves it’s not going to last.
Showing up is half the battle. I’ve been shown this truth again and again throughout my adult life. In college, it was about attending class. Amazingly, actually showing up for class made all the difference. In my career, it’s been about showing up even when I’m not prepared. I tend to procrastinate, but have gotten better at that. And as far as yoga is concerned, it’s often a struggle returning to the mat, especially if I’m not in the mood or I’m tired or worn out in some other way. Even when a teacher leads the class into a certain pose, I might think, “Oh, I don’t do that pose,” or “Oh, that pose isn’t part of my practice,” but I find if I show up for it, even if I find some modification of the pose, I feel better just for showing up. In my relationships, showing up is about staying true to love itself and staying in it, even when it’s hard. Over and over during the tough times in my life, I’ve asked myself: what can I do to make my life easier? How can I get through this tough time? And the answer is always the same: Keep Showing Up.
We may have to show up differently than we were taught or use more effort than we thought we needed. Just being present, even when it’s terrifying, even when you feel lost, even if…(fill in the blank).
Shudder and show up. Stutter, but show up. Be shattered and battered and yet, show up.
Show up even if no one notices (and sometimes no one will). Show up when you’re unsure.
Be anxious and show up anyway. And whatever you do, show up with your whole heart.
Journal Entry 7/17/2019
WWLD
For years, I have been obsessed with the Dixie Chicks’ song, “More Love.” For whatever reason, I hadn’t heard the song for quite some time. The other day, in a quiet moment, I turned on that song for inspiration and was shocked at its effect. I could feel my heart physically and emotionally lift. Tears sprung to my eyes, and then I caught myself grinning from ear to ear, mostly because I was overwhelmed at the reaction this nostalgic tune had for me in that moment. And what was that I felt just below my heart? Hope? Maybe so…
I have long believed that any problem or circumstance can be helped by throwing more love at it. It has been the unspoken understanding in my relationship; it’s the theory by which I interact with other people, even strangers. I have been trying to live my life by doing the most loving thing I could do in any situation.
For example, what do you do when your new best friend moves across the country? Kick and scream and beg her not to go? No, you feign unbridled excitement for her new adventure and wish her well with tears shining in your eyes and a growing crack down the center of your heart. Reassure her you’ll see each other soon. (Then get into your car and sob into the steering wheel, maybe even throw a childlike tantrum at the injustice of it all.) Maybe someone asks you for a totally out of bounds favor, and your gut instinct to retaliate overcomes you. How can you show love instead? It happened to me recently and I could feel myself starting to get peeved, and wanting to fire back at said requester. I quelled that by engaging lovingly with this individual and supporting the person in a positive way instead of pointing out my negative feelings about her request. What about that co-worker you can hardly stand (we all have one, or six). How can you do the most loving thing when that person irritates you? Can you take a deep breath and show compassion instead of contempt? Respond instead of react? Last night I received a completely unexpected outpouring of loving support that absolutely floored me emotionally and filled me up in a way I didn’t even know I needed. That interaction made want to turn that love loose on other people.
All of this, like everything else we do, is a practice. I’ve fallen away from this practice lately, as the daily trials and tribulations of life keep getting in the way of my intention to lead with love. So I’m re-upping. I’m going to see the world (and myself) through the eyes of love. I’m going to (once again) aim to be more loving toward myself and others. Because I know that the only way to be honestly true to myself is to focus on L-O-V-E. I’m turning my heart in the direction of love, forgiveness, kindness. And when I get off track, I’ll turn it back again, asking myself over and over, “What Would Love Do?”
Journal Entry 6/26/2019
Strive Less, Thrive More
A few months back, I had an overwhelming feeling that I was striving for achievement in a yoga class. I understand that many people who practice yoga are in the business of striving, using their practice to sweat, to lose weight. But that has never been my yoga. Sure, I’m trying to shed some things, but it’s not weight, necessarily. Yoga has always been, for me, about shedding what is no longer good for me, or at the very least, trying to create some space between myself and that which no longer serves me.
That day, the teacher was instructing a pose I’d never done before and I found myself struggling to get there. In that moment, it became clear to me that I was hustling to go somewhere my body and breath clearly did not want to go. I stopped straining and sat back on my heels. I caught up with my breath and began to witness, first what was happening within, and then what was happening with the other people in the room. I could see that many of them were struggling with the pose, too, and many of them were glancing around, comparing themselves to the person next to them or to the teacher. In that moment, I decided to bring something new to my practice off the mat. I decided to practice not striving.
There have been many things in recent years that I’ve had to put into practice. I had to practice (really hard) when I gave up gossiping; I had to practice only saying something behind someone’s back that I would be comfortable saying to her face. I have had to practice integrity, making a concentrated effort to live a life that balances what is happening inside of me to be clear and present on the outside as well. I still struggle with practicing self care, even though I preach it to everyone else. I often ask, “What are you doing to take care of yourself?” Unfortunately, I frequently forget to ask myself that same question. And now that I’ve become aware of my latest call to personal action, I am recognizing that even ‘not striving’ is a practice. Nevertheless, it’s important work to do.
I’m recognizing that striving toward something quite often ends up feeling like striving against myself. If I can’t take a deep breath (in a yoga pose, in a conversation, in life in general) then I am striving, struggling, grinding, toiling, overexerting myself. So for now, in this new practice, the only thing I’m striving for is to be kinder and gentler toward myself in every way possible.
It all comes down to this: I am enough. I am plenty. In fact, sometimes I am A LOT. We are already perfect, just as we are. We are already exactly where we are supposed to be, in every heartbreaking, fantastic, terrifying, fulfilling moment. Stop striving, just thrive right where you are.
Journal Entry 5/25/2019
A Reminder to Slow Down
Since I moved to the Northeast nine years ago, I’ve been struck by the fast pace of life here. Having been raised in the South, I know that the best way for me to recalibrate, reset and restore my sense of moving mindfully and intentionally through the world is to get below the Mason Dixon Line for a few days, where it’s easier to slow down, releasing that sense of urgency and rush.
A few weeks ago, we took a four day trip to Florida. It was a big trip with a lot of moving parts, so in an effort to prepare for the journey, I focused heavily on self care in the days leading up to our travel. I had a deep tissue massage, a facial, a pedicure, acupuncture. I even found myself walking more slowly and deliberately. I practiced restorative yoga and spent a rainy afternoon laughing and listening with a sweet friend who sees and appreciates me. By the time we were leaving for the airport at 5am on the day of our departure, I felt prepared to enjoy myself and the slower pace of life the South offers.
Two flights, one layover, a two hour car ride and many hours later, we finally arrived at our destination. The farther away from the Northeast we got, the slower and gentler life around me seemed to be. Southern people smile and say hello more readily, and though it can be frustrating at times, I love the way people walk and drive more slowly, and politely share space, less cutting each other off, more allowing people in. In the South we don’t turn our backs on strangers, instead we include people (even those we don’t know) in conversation. The enormity of that is so powerful. We look each other in the eye, it’s warmer there, in more ways than one. I left my phone behind and looked into faces and had real live conversations. I felt free.
The morning after our arrival was hectic, and I had just a few moments to myself. Even though the slower pace was already sinking in, I remember thinking, let me run down and say hi to the ocean real quick. I had no intention of getting in the water, but once I felt how warm it was, I couldn’t resist. The ocean was like bath water. The undercurrent was strong, and I kept getting knocked down, but I was beaming and laughing and I could feel my whole body and my whole being softening, relaxing, easing in.
Those few moments in the ocean that day were life changing for me. It occurred to me how much easier it is to get knocked down repeatedly doing something you love, like playing in the waves of the sea. Without even a thought, I just kept trying to get back up, only to be knocked over, and I reveled in the joy of that like a fearless, uninhibited child.
My hope for you on this beautiful Saturday is that you find some ease in your world as it is right now. Find the peace and slower pace within your own life (perhaps without migrating South). Feel relaxed and let go of the rush. Change the position of your mind without changing the position of your body. We are in no hurry, we are in no rush. Deep breaths, now, as you slow down. Namaste.
Journal Entry 4/22/2019
Conscious of Self
For as long as I can remember, I have viewed myself as self-conscious. I always took the concept to mean insecure and unsure of oneself. I took this idea and internalized it so deeply, it impacted my young life quite significantly. When I was a teenager, as many of us did, I felt insecure in almost every aspect of my life. Even going to family parties, I would concern myself with feeling less than my older, prettier, cooler more stylish cousins. I was always the tallest in my group friends (still am) and that always made me feel like a sore thumb, high above the crowd. In my twenties, it always felt like all eyes were on me in a crowded room, I perceived that everyone was seeing my shortcomings, my flaws, judging me; I was forever viewing myself through the downcast eyes of the other. I wanted to live smaller, be unseen, but at the same time I wanted to belong somewhere, to someone.
By the time I reached my thirties, I realized this feeling of out loud inadequacy (which is how my self-consciousness always felt to me) was no longer working. I decided to change my own mind. I started to feign confidence until I convinced myself I am confident. Even though this practice worked for me, and I eventually felt better in my own skin, looking back I’m not thrilled with my “fake it til you make it” approach. It feels a bit disingenuous now, and I wish I had had the wisdom to know then that those feelings of insecurity and vulnerability were just part of my being human. During that time of transformation, I realized how valuable it was for me to feel like I belonged to myself.
Now that I’m in my forties, the way I view self-consciousness is very different. Self conscious, to me, now means “being conscious of self,” being self-aware and trying every day to be the best version of myself I can be, being in tune with myself, living a life of integrity, where what I am feeling on the inside matches what I am portraying on the outside. One of the concepts I learned in college that has stuck with me the most was that of Consciousness Raising. During this season of life, I am raising my own consciousness. I recognize the way I respond to others, I take a breath before I speak, I notice and study and practice the way I move through the world. I love the way these concepts can evolve over time, and with the wisdom we find within, we have the power to be more and more conscious of ourselves and hopefully to embrace our whole selves.
I invite you to steal a few moments for yourself today to explore your own level of self-consciousness. Check in with yourself and see what you find. Everything you could ever possibly need is right there waiting for you.
Journal Entry 3/26/2019
Give It a Rest
Every yoga class I have the honor of teaching ends in a deep, surrendering Savasana. In Sanskrit, the term translates to “corpse pose.” That may indicate that we are meant to lie on the ground motionless in mind and body, but I’ve come to understand over the years that this final resting pose is actually quite active. Though it is helpful to connect as much of the body to the floor as possible, it’s not nap time (though if you fall asleep, that’s ok, too). The intention of Savasana is to retain a relaxed state of awareness. Savasana is an invitation for so many things: surrender; allowing the magic to happen; integration; resting in awareness; letting go. It’s an invitation to get quiet, an invitation to be still. As I watch the students rest (or not), I mindfully take three breaths with each one, at their pace, as a way of expressing gratitude for the gift of our yoga practice. Some students are completely still, their only movements the rise and fall of the belly and chest. Some students are snoring within 30 seconds. Some rearrange and reposition and never find stillness. Often as I’m bearing witness to the practice of Savasana, I am reminded of my own yogini self. I remember struggling to get quiet and still at the end of class when I first began practicing yoga. There were times when I thought the teacher had surely forgotten us and was never going to invite us to sit up and close class. It often made me restless, at times even anxious. I had been on a lifelong quest for instant gratification, and was always prone to impatience, so it’s not surprising that I couldn’t just get still and allow the magic to happen. But I also remember kind of forcing myself to stay in it. Keeping my eyes closed, trying to be still and take it all in. And what I know now is that the effort of staying in it shaped my practice in a way that has stuck with me since the beginning. Practicing the art of Savasana has helped me to find a calmer life; it has helped me slow down and be in the moment, even when I’m off the mat. So here’s to corpse pose, thank you for teaching us to give it a rest!
Journal Entry 2/15/2019
My Experience with Blindfolded Yoga
A few weeks ago I attended a blindfolded yoga class. I can be very set in my ways when it comes to practicing yoga (and most other aspects of life, honestly), and I’m challenging myself to enliven my practice by trying new things. I also thought practicing yoga without the gift of sight would return me to a new student mindset, a mindset that always resets my practice in the most refreshing way. I hoped to invite my focus inside and lead myself away from the external distractions of life. I deliberately went to Restorative yoga prior to this workshop so that I could relax my mind and downplay my ever-mounting expectations. When I arrived at the studio, it was warm, the music was contemporary, the teacher unknown to me; all conditions under which I usually feel very unsettled. However, the teacher had a calming presence, a soothing voice, and a gentle way of explaining this exercise we were about to do. We donned our blindfolds, immediately given permission to remove them at any time. We grounded first, instructed to feel our way around the edges of the mat, turning on our proprioceptive senses. The slow flow class that followed wasn’t accessible at every transition, balance was excruciatingly challenging, and I was by no means entirely comfortable with practicing blindfolded, but in the end I felt more aware of myself and more centered. And isn’t that what our practice, our lives are all about? Becoming more aware, willingly facing uncomfortable challenges? Sitting down in the center of ourselves without distraction and seeing what we find? Close your eyes and breathe, that’s all you have to do. It doesn’t matter if you can stand on one foot with unwavering steadiness. What’s important is that you can look within and be who you are, right in this very moment. Namaste.
Journal Entry 1/1/2019
Reflections Of…The Way life Used To Be
As a means of reflection and recall, I reviewed my journal entry from January of 2018. The title was Rise and Shine, and as I read my own words, I was struck by their meaning, and how powerful they felt when I wrote them. I can also see how I’ve changed in the past year. I’ve grown, and my life has been filled with sorrow. I’ve changed, and I’ve stayed the same in some ways.
In last January’s post, I simply stated that shining is a choice, even if you’re going through something rough. Well, 2018 delivered the roughness, that is for sure. And I did choose to shine. I tried to shine so brightly through that pain that it almost burned me out. Somewhere along the way, I learned to be a little more true to myself. To remind myself that it’s okay to have bad days. I can choose to rise, and maybe I will shine a little on some days and a lot on others. Maybe there were consecutive weeks this year that I didn’t shine at all. Ultimately, I’m no less bright for that truth. I’m still me. I still see the world with rose colored glasses, and I still see the light in every person I meet, if I have my eyes open to see it.
I ask myself now, and I ask you to consider this: How am I bringing light to the world? How am I shining, and who am I shining for? Do we just want the world to believe that we’re happy and bright as a flame, even when we’re shrinking on the inside? Do we expect those around us to believe that we are always smiling, and that smile is always genuine? Or would it be less stressful, less crazy-making to just be true to ourselves? Maybe you weep alone, or maybe you find yourself crying at the grocery store. Maybe you’re soft and gentle with everyone but yourself, and you shine that light outwardly, but you never turn the light loose on yourself. Why are we so concerned with keeping up appearances? Why do we believe we’re only shining if there’s a smile on our faces and a light in our eyes?
This year, I’m going to practice remembering that even on my darkest days, I’m still shining. The light may be dimmed but it’s not out. The light can rest, it doesn’t have to work so hard. If shining is a choice, I’m still going to choose it. And I’m going to redefine what it means for me, too. I’m choosing this moment to shine, to be my authentic self, to allow myself to show up and be here just as I am on any given day. Look in the mirror and say, “Shine on, I see you.”
Journal entry 1/31/2018
Rise and Shine
Every morning of my young life, my mom would wake me up by exclaiming (too loudly), “Rise and Shine!” Never a morning person, I so begrudged the way she threw open the shades, turned on the lights and bugged me until I finally rose, hardly ever shining. I slogged through each morning with a distinct heaviness, foggy and wishing I could just get back under the covers. I never really took the words to heart or gave them much thought until I was grown. And now I can’t seem to get the words out of my mind. These two simple words have become a mantra to me now.
Just like everything else we do in life, rising and shining is a practice. We have the choice to rise, certainly, and most days, we must get out of bed. We also have an amazing opportunity each morning to make the choice to shine. What if today is it? What if this is your one chance to shine? (That’s a bit dramatic, because every day, we’ll have the choice again, but just imagine it were so…)
What does it mean for you to shine? I’m sure that’s personal for each of us, but for me, it means all things simple and some more complex. It’s choosing to be the best version of yourself you can be today. It’s choosing the light, smiling at a stranger on the street, being kind to every person you meet, choosing not to get embroiled in argument or negativity. Being easy going and lighthearted. Maybe even being more mindful of the way you move through the world, driving a little more cautiously, being a little more patient with your kid or your spouse. Leading with love. All of this can be very much easier said than done, especially if you’re going through something rough, or you have a high level of stress, but even under less than optimal circumstances, you can find a way to use your light. Shining is a choice, a conscious choice to make today better than yesterday, to give it all you got.
Maybe the choice to shine all day today feels like too much. There are an awful lot of hours in the day, after all. So maybe we can just choose this moment to shine. This moment right here, the only one we have. Practice takes practice. So just for this moment, take a deep breath, pick your head up and smile. Shine on!
Journal entry 9/29/2017
Serenity Now
Once yoga took its gentle and steadfast hold on me, it seemed like a great idea to create a serene life surrounded by only positive vibes and quiet, thoughtful moments. Choosing every connection, creating space and moving away from toxic people, not spending time with anyone who isn’t like-minded. Less screen time, more face time. Not watching the news or violent crime shows. Lots of yoga, reading hours, no overhead lights. Do nothing out of obligation. Be peaceful and totally true to myself. Our home is so quiet and serene for the most part, that when we have visitors, they often comment that it’s too quiet.
This looks great on paper, but I’ve found that in creating this bubble, I’m insulating (and isolating) myself from reality. The way I’ve crafted this serenity is, unfortunately, not sustainable. I’ve found I often need headphones at the grocery store, otherwise I feel overstimulated by the ado there. And the “ado” is just normal people living their lives, stealing a few moments to grab their milk and eggs! I find it difficult to enjoy myself at parties; everything is too loud, too bright, too negative. When the backyard neighbors’ kids are outside playing, I find their laughter and delightful screaming disturbing and distracting. In the morning, I need a significant amount of quiet time to ease into my day, otherwise I find myself decidedly distracted and irritated for the rest of it.
I recognize that there are some sustainable ways to balance this serene life and the real world outside the walls of my home or the yoga studio. Since it would be nearly impossible to avoid interacting with other humans (not that this extrovert would ever want that), I am crafting new ways to live comfortably in the real world. We are still quiet in the mornings at our house, just coffee and togetherness to begin the day. (It’s non-negotiable, even if it means getting up earlier when we have company.) I do practice yoga in the studio environment as much as possible, and I greatly benefit from the peace, the community and the release I find there. I make it a point to read for at least two hours every day. When I’m being very “well-behaved,” I turn my phone to airplane mode from 9pm to 9am every night. And I have also found that conscious breathing and the mindfulness of being in the moment helps keep me from getting irritated and overwhelmed at the grocery store. (I still have my headphones handy, just in case.)
I grew up talking a mile a minute about any and everything, cranking music as loud as my RCA stereo would allow, always wanting to be on the phone or watching the old black and white tv in my room. My stepdad used to offer me five bucks to be quiet for five minutes, and I could rarely do it. I grew into a feisty, opinionated young adult, who still rarely shut her mouth. But now, I actually prefer quiet over cacophony, listening over doling out opinions, peace over chaos. I hope you can find a few moments of quiet introspection each day. It may be awkward at first, but I bet you can learn to love it like this “Chats Domino” has learned to. Namaste.
Love Your Gut
Intuition, to me, is the place where the head and the heart meet and present a united front. Unfortunately, it can be much simpler to listen to external ideas and influences instead of tapping into that inner wisdom. Why do we negotiate with that voice? Why do we second guess it? It’s always right, but so often we only see it clearly in hindsight. Many times I have ignored my own wisdom and followed the path more frequently traveled, in an effort to fit in, or not disappoint, or go with the flow. Why is it so scary to go against the grain if it means listening to and following our own intuition? Maybe it’s an issue of self-confidence, or an issue of trusting oneself. Why are those external voices so loud and easy to hear? When it’s time to make a tough decision, do you Google what to do? Do you ask for outside opinions? Or do you find some space to get quiet and explore within?
Once we recognize that our own inner voice, our own gut, is our truth, how do we train ourselves to listen to and follow it? Where do we begin? Consider giving yourself 24 hours for thought and exploration prior to doing something significant (maybe 24 days if it’s something really significant). Writing can really help create space and clarity. Before you impulsively rush forward and take the road more traveled, take a breath. (When is the last time you took a conscious breath before you did something, anything?) See if you can take a moment to notice what is happening in your body. Where do you feel sensation or tension? If you can learn to listen to your body’s cues, you will start following your gut more readily. If you feel a tightening in your chest, or white noise pounding in your ears, it’s likely you’re about to do something that doesn’t gel with your intuition. If your physical body feels at rest and your breath is easy and accessible, you’re probably following your intuition.
When the outside noise and opinions are so loud and urgent, sometimes it’s easier to just go with those so the noise will stop and the dust will settle. But if we learn to get quiet, and sit with ourselves just long enough, the sweet inside voice of our own soul will learn to speak louder, helping to align actions and heart. Get centered, slow down, breathe, and go with your gut.
Journal entry 9/27/2017
A Few Rules for Daily Living
I make a lot of lists. I have grocery lists, lists of things I am going to do this week, and even a list of things I intend to get done in 2018. I have a growing list of non-negotiable items for ‘traveling light.’ A reading list, a list of vacations I hope to take in the future. And in many notebooks and on countless scraps of paper stashed in my office, in my nightstand drawer and in my car, I have lists of the things I am going to do to get and stay on track with living a healthy life. I can never seem to stick to that list. Usually I can’t even pat myself on the back for small victories. Essentially, I am a perfectionist who never applied herself. So it’s all or nothing; no gray area between what I intend to do and what I actually do.
The upside of this disappointment is that I am a stanch rule follower. Anyone who knows me well can attest to this, likely with a funny and ridiculous anecdote to prove the severity of my situation. So I am thinking that if maybe I reframe and change my language, calling the list “rules” instead of just lines of ideas I’ve jotted down, I may feel compelled to actually do them rather than just dream about them.
I’m going to start small. It’s the little things that count, yes?
1. Do Something Good for Yourself. Every day, just one deliberately good thing. Whether it’s choosing fruit over junk food or drinking more water, I intend to be more mindful about what I put in my body.
2. Move It. Practice yoga, park farther away from the store,pick up the pace. Track my steps (it’s right there in front of me on my wrist anyway, and once I see the fitbit numbers climbing, I actually want to move more.)
3. Unplug. Read more, write more. More face to face time with people I love, and less face to phone time in general. Maybe reinstate that habit of airplane moding my phone from 9 pm to 9 am, at least a few nights a week. Stop watching House Hunters until midnight, and instead go to bed at a decent hour and read until my eyes get heavy and I can drift off to dreamland.
4. Take Time to Breathe. Even as a yoga teacher, I am not a conscious breather. But when I do remember to breathe, just one deep breath (before I eat, before I start the car, before I teach, before I say yes, before I say no), makes all the difference.
5. Pray/Practice Gratitude Before Bed. This literally takes 15-20 seconds, and every time I remember to do it, I find that I sleep more soundly. Even just “Thank you, God/Source/Universe,” or making a quick mental list (ha) of a few things that awed me throughout the day, or even a nod to the fact that there’s a pillow to lay my head on.
Journal entry 9/26/2017
Part of the Experience
Often during centering, I will say some variation of, “Anything that you sense, whether it’s noises from the street, the air on your skin, or your own thoughts bombarding you, just let it be part of your experience.” I say this in an effort to integrate the external world we so often find impossible to ignore, and to not judge ourselves so harshly as we try to get quiet, drop in, look inward.
I have begun to think more deeply about this suggestion that we can be somewhere in the middle of ourselves, while still hearing cars rushing by outside the window, or hearing the person next to us breathing heavily on her mat. “Just let it be part of your experience.” I became more and more curious, wanting to know what that means, and wanting to practice what I preach. I dove deeper while practicing at Kripalu Center recently and found myself asking these questions:
What do I hear? What is irritating me, and why? Can I return to my breath? Can I soften, release tension? Can I not get attached to any of it?
When I am practicing yoga, or when I am just living my life, there are some sounds I want to hear. Rain on the roof, a thunderstorm raging just outside. The crickets chirping the nostalgic sounds of childhood summers. Some sounds are less favorable. On the mat, maybe it’s the person next to you shifting restlessly or the sound of your to do list reading itself off in your head. In life, I find it difficult and harsh to hear people speaking negatively to each other, or even too many people talking at once. I don’t even listen to music when I’m driving because the silence has become so dear to me.
As I was working on writing journal entries for this week, I was (as usual) doing a million other things at the same time. I was cleaning my office and found the following words jotted on an old scrap of paper: “Can you welcome all the feelings you’re having, even unpleasant/uncomfortable ones?” It appears this question/task of “allowing everything to be part of your experience” has been on my mind for some time.
At any rate, I know that I will not always be able to control my environment, and on the mat, I certainly can’t control my thoughts (you know, because I’m human). So maybe the trick is to return to that soft place where judgment is not welcome, and just take it all in, the noise, the silence, and the in between. Earlier this week, as I struggled to get quiet on the mat, the teacher said, “ Be very welcoming to whatever you are experiencing now.” I have manners, I can be welcoming. :)
Journal entry 9/25/2017
What Have I Done?
When I first launched this website, a concept that still feels so crazy to me, I added the word “JOURNAL” in all caps to my calendar, every Tuesday from here to eternity. That’s right, indefinitely. For some reason I thought I might find that motivating or inspiring; every Tuesday morning at 9 am to get a calendar reminder to write. It’s almost as if the opposite occurred. Once something becomes so routine on your to-do list, somehow, it’s easier to ignore. I can craft a list of reasons why I haven’t written a new journal entry every Tuesday since the inception of this website: I lost a parent, my dog died, I was not motivated, I was fearful (all true). Maybe I felt I didn’t have anything worth sharing. Maybe I was busy, or enjoying the summer.
The truth is, I’m thinking now that maybe I set myself up to fail. Then I think about that word “fail.” Why does that one come so easily to us? Expecting too much or something unrealistic of ourselves, then telling ourselves we “failed.” We didn’t measure up. We’re not enough.
Well, we are enough. I haven’t failed. I am not going to focus on everything I haven’t done in the past several months. I am going to focus on everything I have done. I spent quality time with the people I love most. I traveled to Colorado to visit my fantastic cousins and see Tom Petty at Red Rocks. I said goodbye to the sweetest man on earth, and the sweetest dog on earth. I read SO many books. I went to see Brené Brown and both wept and laughed in the company of strangers as a result. I sat by the pool and watched a hundred kids fearlessly diving into the deep end, as I mustered my own courage to do the same. I taught a lot of yoga. I practiced yoga on a rooftop in NYC. I continued to build my yoga practice and my teaching repertoire. I cooked delicious meals every day. I went to Kripalu for a long weekend to feed my soul. I enjoyed chilled Rosé. I listened contentedly to the crickets in my backyard almost every night. I took (and posted) about a million pictures of my mean, aging, beautiful cat. I asked for what I needed (and got it). No time has been wasted.
And now, I am challenging myself to write a new journal entry (and post it) every day this week. I know that I have valuable words to share on the page. I am enough. And maybe you will be inspired to challenge yourself to do something you already know you’re capable of this week. Pen to paper, here I go….
Journal entry 7/13/2017
Managing Expectations
Life is all about managing expectations. First, let's examine where our expectations come from. Culture, society and family can all predict what we expect from others and what others expect from us. Based on past experiences we can have our own personal expectations. Unfortunately if our expectations (of ourselves or others) are unrealistic, we are often setting ourselves up for failure and disappointment. Perhaps the goal is to neutralize our expectations so we are less likely to be let down. This is not to say that one should give up hope, but rather maintain a balance between healthy hopefulness and realistic expectations.
This may seem an extreme example, but I recently lost a parent. Even though I thought I was quite astute at managing expectations, I found out very quickly, I am not, not when it comes to difficult life events. I learned the hard way that I cannot expect my loved ones to react the way I would react if they lost a parent. I come from the greeting card/casserole subset of grief supporters. And though I have been able to let go of that mentality, I noticed that even checking in occasionally, or simply just acknowledging the loss also goes a long way. My expectations around grief and loss and how I will be supported are quite unique; after all, I am quite comfortable with death, as I was always taught it was part of life. I worked for hospice for many years, which further softened my experiences around grief. I spent weeks struggling against the feelings of frustration I had about these unmet expectations and eventually decided that instead of being angry or upset with the people in my life who did not meet them, I am just going to consider (once again) that not everyone is raised the same way, not everyone is comfortable with death. Maybe most people just don't know what to do, or even where to begin.
The most interesting thing to note here is that expectations have nothing to do with the person from whom you are expecting something. The expectations have everything to do with you.
Journal entry 4/1/2017
Always a Student
Today I had the honor of speaking with the Lourdes YTT-200 class of 2017. Their yoga coursework is almost complete, but their education never will be. I found myself situated in the same spot where I spent so many weekends during my own training. While guiding the students through a centering exercise, I found myself reading the same intention I used for my final teach almost a year ago, with the same lump in my throat as I read these words:
“Yoga doesn’t care about what you’ve been, yoga cares about the person you are becoming.”
It was honestly quite humbling to be invited there today. I’m certainly no expert, what wisdom could I possibly impart? I’m still learning a lot about myself, my practice, my teaching. I’m still (and always will be) a student. It’s still hard for me to receive praise from my teacher, who after I centered the class, gushed a bit about how much I’ve blossomed. (Honestly, I zoned out a little as she spoke, all I heard was the word “eloquent,” but I was afraid I would cry, so I put her voice on the edge of my consciousness until I was asked to speak again.) There’s that residual feeling that I have no right to be there, trying to dole out something profound about this beautiful practice we are so privileged to share.
I am so grateful I had the opportunity to spend time with these wonderful aspiring teachers. They were so gracious to allow me into their intimate circle for a few moments in time. In retrospect, there is much more I wish I would have said to them. Fortunately I know they’ll find out soon enough, the learning doesn’t stop here. Stay yoginis forever. Keep your hearts open (physically and emotionally). And most importantly, the light in me honors the light in each of you, Namaste.
Journal Entry 3/23/17
A Different Kind of Yes Man
My father was a yes man. He was so sweet and sensitive that he had trouble saying “no” even if he knew it would mean trouble for him. He would often use the phrase, “we’ll see,” but even as kids, we knew that meant yes. Some might say he was a softie, and he was, but I can see looking back over his life how being a yes man was a detriment to my dad’s life in certain ways.
Back in my social work days, I met a different kind of yes man. He was the son of a terminally ill patient who was far into her cancer journey by the time we met. This gentleman was a musician who had met great success in his life. He was a recovering alcoholic and had been sober for five years at the time. I was asking him about how he copes with caring for his mother, and he told me he says YES to everything, even his mother’s illness. He said YES to the pain of his addiction and recovery. He said yes to giving up some of his music success to get his life on track. He even said YES when he found out his mother was going to die.
How can we say a resounding YES to all the good and bad that life gives to us? It’s easy to say yes when we get that job we’ve been wanting, or when the first day of summer vacation finally arrives. But can we just as easily say yes to a broken wrist, or burning the brownies you were making for your daughter’s bake sale, or even to a terminal diagnosis? Will saying yes to it all actually bring less suffering and more peace? Could saying yes stabilize the journey? After all, being happy doesn’t mean avoiding being sad. It just means learning to find lesson, the meaning in whatever life hands us. If the secret to having it all means believing you already do, then you have to say yes to whatever comes, knowing that it’s all part of your journey.
Journal entry 3/6/2017
Proceed with Caution
Growing up in the South, especially in the mountains of West Virginia, we were taught to drive safely in every season, whether it's raining, snowing or sunny. We also learned to be courteous drivers. Maybe it's the slower pace of life, or maybe it's our focus on manners. We are sometimes so polite, it's to our detriment. (That's another story for another time.)
I have lived in the Northeast for several years now, and almost on a daily basis I am struck by the differences between drivers here and in my home state. Here, if you let someone out in traffic, they look at you like you have eight heads. At home, if you don't let someone out in traffic, they look at you the same way. Yes, the pace of life is faster here, but one can't help noticing the sense of urgency the Northeast drivers have. Here, you'll be passed on a side street so someone can make it to the red light before you do. If you don't move the millisecond before the light turns green, you'll be blasted by car horn. And the residential streets we live on, with their posted speed limit signs at 25 mph, function more as NASCAR speedways than a place where children play and a ball could roll into the street without a moment’s notice. Not to mention the dangers of being a pedestrian in a New Jersey grocery store parking lot. I'm convinced that's where I'll meet my demise.
This is not a rant about the difference between drivers here and there. My belief is that yoga (on and off the mat) can help us become safer drivers. Yoga helps us to be more aware of ourselves. It fosters deeper breathing and better functioning in stressful situations. As the marketing for 'arriving alive' makes its mark on our highways, take a moment to consider your own driving style. Do you spend the majority of your morning commute with the radio on full blast, or do you take some time to enjoy the silence and collect your thoughts for the day ahead? Do you feel that sense of urgency to get where you’re going, or did you give yourself plenty of time to arrive? Test your own driving by pausing for a moment the next time you get behind the wheel. Before you start the engine, take a deep breath and get centered. Try driving the speed limit for one whole day. Try putting your phone in the trunk so you can truly focus on driving with care. And turn the radio off. See if you can use your driving time to get quiet and breathe steadily. Take pause and be grateful you have the freedom to drive, and then vow to take that freedom more seriously. Proceed with caution, friends, its truly the only way to get where you're going.
Journal entry 2/28/17
Can We Talk About Love for a Sec?
For any of you that know me personally, you know how much I love L-O-V-E. I believe it's our most valuable resource. I grew up showered/smothered with it, to the point of no return. My parents never let a day go by (and for my mom, hardly an hour went by) that we didn't hear "I love you." And even when I would ask "But, why, Mom?" (i.e., why can't I do a, b, c, or d), the answer even came from that place, "because I love you, that's why." Naively, I thought every family lived this way.
In my twenties, I remember being astonished when a friend told me she had never heard her parents tell her they loved her. She had no doubt that they did, but she had never heard the words. I remember feeling so sad for her, even though she wasn't sad about it. As a result of being brought up on love (and just my big chubby heart), I am and always have been a very loving person. Maybe I have given love too freely for the tastes of some, but I just can't believe that any situation is ever harmed by throwing more love its way. Sometimes that manifests in hugs (I come from a long line of huggers), or outright "I love you's," but honestly I wouldn't change this thing about myself, not that I could if I wanted to.
Yoga also helps us learn the love of self. We can't spend all of our love on others, we need to turn it loose on ourselves. Imagine yourself with your hands folded neatly at your heart, head bowed toward the heart space. Pause to consider the symbolism of that, bowing to your own amazing heart, your own love for yourself. Then think about how often we return our hands to our hearts in yoga. It's no coincidence. Whether we're aware of it or not, we are embodying self love in those moments. And once we love ourselves better, we can love others better, too.
At this point in life, there is a lot of transition and uncertainty. But one thing is for damn sure, I have love in abundance. If you have love, you already have it all. The journey of love is the best and most profound journey of your life. Not just the love you have for you spouse or partner, but moving through life letting love lead. I invite you to move love to the top of your to-do list.
Journal entry 2/21/17
A Lesson in Listening to My Body
Throughout my career as a hospice social worker, I would often encourage people to listen to their bodies. I’d say things such as, “Your body will let you know if you need to take it easy,” or “He’s been living in that body throughout his treatment, he will know when his body cannot withstand more.” Even when I teach yoga, I often say things such as, “Be in your body, feel what you feel,” or “notice how the breath moves the body,” or “honor your body,” “notice how this feels in your body.” Honestly, I never practiced this body consciousness myself until yoga came into my life. Before yoga, the only time I even remotely listened to my body was if I were in pain (a twisted knee, a kink in my back). I never listened to (let alone honored) my body because I didn’t like it very much. I always perceived there was too much of it; I wasn’t satisfied with it, so I largely ignored it. Yoga has helped change that for me.
For the first few years of my practice, I avoided placing my mat near the mirror because I didn’t want to see my body or myself. I was ashamed and embarrassed. Then one fateful night, space was limited in class and I ended up right in front of the mirror, in full view of myself. I couldn’t believe what I saw. This practice of yoga had changed me and being in the mirror changed my practice. In that moment, I could see quite clearly my strength. I could not only see myself better for alignment purposes, I could see that the practice of yoga was unlocking my spirit and unearthing my inner beauty. Suddenly, I gave myself permission to shine. This amazing connection between seeing and feeling what your body can do led me to actually prefer practicing in front of the mirror.
Now when my body tells me to slow down, I listen. I focus on self-care, I clear my teaching schedule for a few days, and I take it easy. I am learning to practice what I preach. I am honoring my body. Maybe it comes with age, or maybe I just got tired of shaming myself and comparing myself to others, but I am certainly learning to honor and appreciate this body of mine.
Yoga teaches us not only procioceptive sense (feeling and sensing where our bodies are in space), but also to be comfortable with (and in) the body you have TODAY, in this moment, not the one you had in high school, or the one you’ll strive for before bikini season. This one. And I’m grateful for mine.