Commitment Issues

The biggest challenge of yoga school so far has been learning to say no. The schedule is intense, especially for someone who is already working full-time. I knew I would have to cut back on my social calendar, which has become a life line as I deal with the end of my marriage. However, I didn't realize how severely yoga school would impact my time with friends–not to mention my me time.

At first I tried to meet up with friends two or three nights per week, but I always paid for it the next day. I would hit the snooze button eight times in a row, losing the quiet morning hour for meditation and practice. I'd finish a page in my anatomy text book and have no idea what I had just read, forcing me to go back over it again. Or I'd make it to class but have a tired brain, unable to give my teacher and classmates the attention I wanted to show them. 

It is hard to commit to change, no matter how excited you are about it. Our attention spans are getting shorter and we are constantly bombarded with information about what everyone else we know is doing. We are surrounded by temptation. It is all too easy to say, "I really want to meet up with my friend for a drink tonight, so I'll spend an hour on my home practice when I get back." You can imagine how often I follow through on these deals with myself.

When we are serious about making changes in our life, good intentions are no longer enough. It's the action that counts. We need to choose the right action each time, not just when we are in the mood for it. This is incredibly hard. We will fail over and over again, and when we do we need to show ourselves compassion and then renew our resolve. Each failure is an important part of the journey.

When we are truly ready at our core to make the change, the right action will become easier. Once we have seen a new path and are ready to give up our old way of being, choosing the right action will no longer feel like a sacrifice. It becomes something we do willingly so we can blossom. 

I have decided that yoga school is my top priority, because I have already witnessed the transformative effect it has had on my life. This means that I routinely have to say no to my friends and pass on activities that I normally wouldn't miss. But it's getting easier–not because I love my friends any less but because I believe in what I'm doing. I have finally made the decision to bloom. 

A Sense of Curiosity

I read a quote from a book by Pema Chodron last week, and it has been echoing in my head ever since. In her book No Time to Lose, the Buddhist teacher writes the following: "We can put our whole heart into whatever we do; but if we freeze our attitude into either for or against, we're setting ourselves up for stress. Instead, we could just go forward with curiosity, wondering where this experiment will lead."

I keep thinking about this quote, and I've discussed it with several friends over the past week. It's a pretty simple sentiment; one that has surely been expressed before in a hundred different ways. Yet there was something about the word curiosity that stopped me in my tracks. It was so playful and approachable, like it came straight from the mouth of Winnie the Pooh. What would it be like to approach my life with more curiosity and less expectation about the things I want?

This curious approach blends perfectly with the structure that has been established for the yoga school I am enrolled in, and it pairs excellently with yoga practice itself. I am willing to bet that anyone who practices yoga would be able to tell you what their least favorite pose is. I don't like parsva utkatasana, which is when you sit back like you are in a chair and then twist your upper body to one side or the other. I am awkward in this posture. I always feel scrunched in the spine instead of feeling anything resembling length, and my thighs start burning within moments of assuming the pose. Whenever a teacher calls it out, my mind immediately starts along this train of thought. It's not surprising then that I automatically assume a scrunched posture and feel weak in the legs. I have the expectation that I'm going to have an uncomfortable experience.

What if I approached the pose with curiosity? What if I decided to see what it feels like today–in this moment–to try parsva utkatasana? Would my experience be different? What if I approached my whole practice with this inquisitiveness? This attitude is fostered by the amazing teachers in my training program, and I have already observed the benefits to my practice. When I let go of the expectation of creating the perfect shape, I am able to naturally experience the effects of slight realignments, changes in weight distribution, or variations in my breath. And I also have more fun with my practice, as I experiment and play with the poses without rigid expectations for myself.  

This attitude is also extremely helpful off of my mat. In fact, that is where I have felt the strongest impact over the past week. What if I approached each day with curiosity and an openness to where it might take me? Instead of clinging to what I want to happen in the future, what if I gave more of my attention to the present? It's such a simple idea, but it has radically changed my perspective. I'm trying to be curious about each moment instead of fighting it, and the result is a more peaceful mind. 

Hold On Loosely

We cling very tightly to the things we want, whether the object of our attachment is a material item, a relationship, or even an idea. We clench our fists until our knuckles turn white, afraid that if we loosen our grip for even a moment we will lose the thing we want so badly. Yet when we are so intensely focused on this one desire, our eyes are blinded to the wonders of the world around us. Our hands are too full to accept anything else. 

Once I started thinking about this instinct to hold on, I noticed it over and over again in my own life. There are so many things that I have been clinging to: approval, love, security. I didn't realize it at the time, but now I can see that I fell into this trap when I first felt my husband drifting apart from me. Out of fear I avoided addressing the problem and starting a difficult conversation. Instead I instinctively held on tighter, not realizing that this would only make the problem worse. I put more and more energy into trying to be what I thought he wanted me to be, when what I really needed to be was myself. This desperation comes from a view of there being scarcity in the world, from believing that there is not enough to go around. This attitude consumes our precious energy in protecting what we think is ours and feeling threatened when someone else gets the thing that we want. 

I now understand that underlying my actions was a very scary thought: if I loosen my grip on the person that I love more than anything, he will be able to walk away. I felt forced to hold on tightly no matter what it cost me. Yet the truth is that we live in a world of abundance. There is enough to go around, and we only need to widen our view to be able to see it. We only need to open our hands and hearts to be able to experience it. I am surrounded by love but I wasn't able to realize it until my hands were empty. 

It is painful to lose something so important, without a doubt. However, every loss opens up a space for us to let something else in. And that's a subject for another night...

Unstuck

We have all had the experience of getting stuck somewhere on our path. Often this occurs when we don't get what we want and can't find a way to move past the feelings that arise. You didn't get a job you applied for, so you feel like a failure. Your partner falls in love with someone else, so you lose your sense of self-worth while your anger burns. A close friend dies of cancer at a young age, and you are overwhelmed with sadness and guilt. 

We may not like to acknowledge it, but fear is lurking underneath all of these reactions. We fear that we won't be taken care of, that we won't fall in love again, that something bad might happen to us. But if we look even closer, we often find that we are also stung by an intense feeling of unfairness about these situations. They require us to say goodbye when that's not the experience we were anticipating. 

As humans we have created rules to help us live alongside each other, and these rules attempt to establish at least an appearance of fairness and justice. Fairness is a concept that is hammered into us at a very young age and we carry it into adulthood. Unfortunately, the universe didn't get the memo. There is no guarantee–nor should there even be an expectation–that life is fair. Life just happens, often in ways we don't expect and with results that make us unhappy. As long as we remain caught up in our belief in the injustice of it all, we don't allow ourselves to honestly feel our pain. Instead we surround ourselves with grand ideas of what might have been, and we become trapped. There is no way for us to break through that circle to move forward. 

We have to give up the idea that life is supposed to be fair, that life is supposed to conform to our expectations. It is hard work, and I struggle with this every day. But if we can accept this, we can finally let go of what hurts and move forward along our path.

Being Authentic

In psychology class this week we discussed how a yoga teacher should present herself to the class. Was it better to be transparent or a pillar of positive energy? When did sharing cross the line and become oversharing? Is it okay to paste on a happy face before class if you just aren't feeling it? 

A yoga teacher is in a position of leadership and trust. It would be easy to take advantage of a captive audience of students in order to vent about a personal issue or receive sympathy. Most people would agree that this is inappropriate but what if you consider the opposite end of the spectrum? What if the teacher constantly appears positive and looks like she has it together, even when she's in the middle of a personal crisis? Does that send the false message to students that if you dedicate yourself to yoga your life will be free of hardship? This might seem like the lesser of two evils, but it is not in line with the value yoga places on honesty.

The group discussion was incredibly interesting, and there was one thought that stuck with me for the next few days. There is a gray area between being authentic and wearing a mask. As teachers, we should strive to share our authentic selves with students, but this doesn't mean that we have to divulge everything. Generally commenting on approaches to a personal situation in a teacher's life might give students a way to connect with their own story. They may be able to find reassurance or inspiration in these moments. This is very different than putting on the expectations that students may have of us and presenting that as who we truly are, like being the perennial perky yoga teacher. 

I think the reason this resonated with me so strongly is because I realized it is something we deal with in our personal lives, too. After my husband left I was sad much of the time, but instead of letting myself be sad in front of people I tried to act like my normal happy self. I didn't want to unload my burden of sadness onto others, and I was terrified of feeling vulnerable in front of everyone I knew. I was wearing a mask, and it prevented me from connecting with others in a meaningful way.

I didn't realize that there was an option somewhere in between sobbing in front of strangers and pretending that my life was great. This middle ground is what I consider being authentic with care. I can be true to myself and what I am feeling, but this doesn't mean that I have to be completely vulnerable in every interaction that I have with others. I can be sad without going into the details of what specific events brought me pain that morning; I can be honest when people ask me how I'm doing without feeling like I then have to spill my guts in order to justify those feelings. I can show as much of my true self as I am comfortable with in the conversation without projecting fake emotions. When I am honest with others without worry of meeting their expectations, I discover powerful moments of connection and support.

Finding Your Breath

Finding your breath is an important component of many contemporary yoga classes. If you've been to a class, you have probably heard some iteration of this phrase. The first time I had a teacher direct me to find my breath, I thought it was a little odd but I made an assumption about what she was saying. As I understood it, the instruction was to simply pay attention to my breathing: inhale, exhale. While no one ever explained the actual purpose behind this practice, it gave me something to focus on besides all the other thoughts flying around my head. That was good enough for me.

Ancient yogis took it a little further. They realized that if you can control your breath, you can control your mind. This simple statement clearly describes one of the main benefits of yoga practice. Our breath and our minds are interconnected, and there is a relationship between the rate of our thoughts and the rate of our breathing. When we are angry and our minds are moving fast, our breathing becomes rapid. When we make an effort to take deep breaths, our thoughts slow down. This might be a place where experts could have a "chicken or the egg" debate, but I don't think it really matters which comes first because one of these factors is clearly easier for me to control: my breath.

When we practice yoga and we concentrate on finding and controlling our breath, we slow down and connect our breathing to our movements. This slows the runaway train of thoughts that is constantly racing around our heads. And as we get further along into our practice, we may notice that we actually start to have little bits of space in between our thoughts. We can see the gaps between the cars as they are passing on the tracks. These gaps might occupy only the briefest of moments, but we see that they can exist. We don't have to have a thought and then immediately judge it or–even worse–judge ourselves for having it. We don't have to automatically react to it in any way, possibly by saying or doing something that we later regret. Instead, once we cultivate those spaces we can look at each thought for what it is: a thought. And we can choose if or how we want to respond to it. 

This isn't something that happens overnight. It takes a lot of practice, a lot of time finding your breath, to find the spaces. For me it is worth the effort. 

The First Step

Whether we believe the destination to be near or far, every journey begins with one step. I enthusiastically took mine tonight as I attended the orientation for yoga school. Though the session was mostly filled with the nuts and bolts of the program and reminders of all the hard work that is ahead, I left the studio feeling giddy. I felt like I did on Christmas morning as a child when I discovered a box under the tree that looked just the right size to be the toy I wanted more than anything in the world...and the gift had my name on it! I can't remember the last time I've had that feeling. I am still grinning from ear to ear even though class ended two hours ago.

I feel such a high because tonight I was surrounded by people who have the same passion for yoga that I do. I instantly felt a connection to these strangers, the women and men who I will closely share my life with for the next five months. We took turns introducing ourselves and briefly describing why we had enrolled in the program in addition to our goals and fears. There were nineteen other students in the room, and I was blown away by each of them. I listened as my new classmates poetically described all the things I think about yoga but have trouble putting into words. It was beautiful. 

Everyone there had come to yoga in a different way or for different reasons, yet each was so profoundly impacted by her experience that she needed to dive deeper. My classmates courageously shared stories of overcoming obstacles of every shape and size through their relationship with yoga, and if I didn't already think that I was on to something, I would have been a believer after just five minutes with this group. It was amazing how many common threads ran through our discussion about how yoga had benefitted us mentally, physically, and spiritually. I laughed, I cried (a few times!), and I got a hug from the woman sitting next to me after I shared my own story. I am so grateful for this accepting and caring community of learners who supported my first step tonight.

Fear of Failing

When we are faced with a new opportunity or challenge, the biggest obstacle to taking the leap is often fear. The questions pile up in our minds. What if I'm not good enough? What if I don't succeed? What will people think of me? As I was deciding to apply to yoga teacher training, I was no different. What if I don't have what it takes to be a good teacher? What if I sound nervous when I speak in front of the group? What if I can't learn to do a handstand? No matter how excited we may be about a new experience, we usually encounter these type of questions and the doubt they generate may prevent us from saying yes.

Our questions stem from fear, and often this fear is based on judgments that we unconsciously make about ourselves. We think we might not be good enough to accomplish what is in front of us, so we decide it's better to not even try. It is difficult to let go of the expectations that we have for ourselves in a situation. But instead of comparing ourselves to the imaginary picture we create in our minds, we can accept that who we are in the moment is enough. We all need to be a little easier on ourselves, and we need to show ourselves the same kindness that we show others. 

Stopping the cycle of fear and self-judgment is liberating. It allows us to greet new challenges with enthusiasm and an open mind. Will I have what it takes to be a good teacher? I don't know, but I'm going to give my best effort and know that it's all I can do. What if I sound nervous when I speak in front of the group? The truth is that no one is going to judge me for that except for me. I can decide to accept that I'm nervous and not inflate that into a judgment that I am somehow lacking. What if I can't learn to do a handstand? Then I can't do a handstand. I'll keep practicing.

New Year's Resolutions

January started out with sunshine and blue skies, and I feel like that’s a great sign for the year ahead. It would be easy for me to call 2014 the worst year of my life or to give it all kinds of other negative adjectives, but that would be ignoring all of the good that has and will come out of the rubble. Nevertheless, I am excited to enter a new year as it creates at least the illusion of a new beginning. I’m ready for that.

I’ve certainly grown a lot over the past year. Some of that progress may have just been rediscovering parts of myself that I had forgotten, but the rest is fresh green at the tips of my branches. I also learned valuable lessons about what it takes to make a relationship work and how I can be a more mindful partner in my next one.

Perhaps my biggest realization was that I am worthy of love just the way I am. I don't have to do anything to earn love. Accepting this simple statement empowers me to be myself without pleasing people or feeling obligated to meet their needs. If I think that I need love from others in order to be whole, it takes away my voice. I end up running in circles trying to make other people happy at the cost of being true to my own needs. Believing that I am worthy of love makes it easier for me to voice my opinions, be kind to myself, and be an equal partner in relationships.

All things considered, it's harder to feel like the sky is falling. I may not be in the place that I envisioned, but I am right where I need to be. My goal for the coming year is to nurture myself and see where that takes me. I want to strengthen the friendships I have with people who are positive, respectful, and trustworthy. I want to take care of my body and stay active, feeling the grass under my bare feet as much as possible. And of course yoga school will be my primary catalyst as I develop habits and practices that will serve me for the rest of my life.