Teen Yoga

Good deed of the weekend: my good friend, Carrie, subbed my Teen Yoga class on Sunday night. Thank you Carrie!

Good Things

Let's be honest. There's a lot of bad going on right now. I don't even need to list them out because you know what they are--and whenever the topic comes up, I feel like my words are only perpetuating the negativity. So I've decided to move in a different direction--because it is crucial to remain positive. There's still a lot of good things out there, and that's what this is about.

Starting today, this is my aim: to document a good thing every day. It doesn't have to be big by any means, but it must be present and heartfelt. The idea started when I was at the gym yesterday, using the changing room. I notices a pair of socks on the floor, made sure they were not mine, and thought nothing more of it. I dressed, exited and was about to dry my hair when the woman who entered the changing room after me poked her head out and asked--with a smile, "Did you lose and pair of socks?".

"No, I did not. I saw those. They must belong to someone else."

Both of us continued on, but I couldn't help but feel such deep appreciation for this woman--simply asking if I had lost my socks. Maybe because it's been a hard month at home, at work, in life. Maybe because it was just not the best day. I don't know why it touched me the way that it did, but I mulled this woman's kind action around in my mind knowing that these things happen all the time, every day--to me! How blessed I am.

So I went about my day--the normal way. I had to stop at the gas station on the way to the yoga studio, and as I was waiting to leave the parking lot, I noticed that the gas cap on the car in front of me was open. The traffic kept passing us by--there was no opportunity to exit--so I just sat there behind this car, looking at his gas cap, wondering what I should do. I actually got anxious! And I don't get anxious all that often. I knew I should get out and close it for him. But there was another part of me that felt shy--and it's not like it really made a difference if it was open or not...and it was cold...and what if the line of traffic broke just as I got out...how embarrassing. But the traffic line didn't break, and we continued to sit there in our warm cars, separated.

And then I just did it. I got out of the car, walked up and closed his gas cap shut. I could see him try to look at me in the rear view mirror. I made a pathetic gesture at the gas cap as I walked away. I was getting back into my car when I noticed he was rolling down his window."Your gas cap was open," I said.

He smiled. "Oh. Thank you."

I think we were about the same age. I was still anxious as the traffic lightened and he pulled out into the road. I made my way out after him, cautiously slowing over the ice heave in the entryway.

The Healing Journey

A new year is kind of like a birthday: we anticipate, we celebrate, we make promises wishes, and resolutions, and yet, when the day finally comes, it is just like any other day of our life…except there’s usually cake and booze. For some of us, that too is a regular occurrence, and that’s a wonderful thing—in moderation, of course.

But as 2009 rolls out before me, I sit down and realize that I am at so many cross-roads of so many opportunities. So many doors closing while so many open. And some of the windows I’ve been looking out of all my life have turned into mirrors, while many of the mirrors I used to look into have become landscapes of the outside world.

We often live every day ordinarily. Ho-hum we go along, wake up, eat breakfast, go to work, come home, watch tv, go to bed, dream, wake up, forget our dreams, and start the whole cycle again. And I’m certainly no exception. Actually, during the Christmas/New Years season I began to miss my routine- being home, knowing what I’m going to be doing when, having everything all mapped out. But I am also habitual in my tendency to drift in and out of inspiration.

There will be months where I do not write and I do not feel anything exceptional. And I get down on myself thinking I will never feel inspired ever again. But the tide always shifts again, and I discover some nugget of truth in my life that opens my eyes briefly—but it’s something so brilliant that it keeps me going for months, until I drift off again into the valley of uninspiration.

More often than not, the times that jolt me awake are uncomfortable—painful even. They can be something someone says to me. It can be touch. It can be laying down in savasana when it hits me. I’ll cry for days. My heart will sink so low it drags on the floor. When everything was fine before, now everything seems like shit. I loose myself in my emotion, hanging on tight, white knuckling the rollercoaster of life.

One of my teachers refers to this as The Fucking Healing Journey, because you know what? Life is hard. Looking at life honestly is harder. So why even bother then if it’s so miserable? Why not stick with the comfortable routine, the daily ho-hum, the everything is ordinary and therefore everything is good? You can, and people live their whole lives this way, and that’s fine because that’s their journey. But after the rollercoaster is over, and you loosen your grip, you realize that the ride has dropped you off somewhere beyond where you started. And you survived.

At this point in my life, the crossroads cropping up all over the place make me more nervous than they used to because I have people depending on me—at home, at my job, and now that I must provide for myself, I have to hold it together enough to get through and pay all the bills on time. There’s no real time set aside to figure all the shit out that comes up, and there’s no one that’s going to understand your journey like you. The Fucking Healing Journey is a long and lonely one—but after all the tears, and the heart dragging on the floor, and the frustration of people looking at your like you’re crazy when you try to explain yourself, you know more about who you are on this path than before, and you know that whatever life throws in your lap, you can handle it.

Astrology Zone

So...call me whatever you want, but I read my horoscope religiously each month. But this is no ordinary horoscope, this is Susan Miller's Monthy Forecast (http://www.astrologyzone.com/), which ususally consists of a three page outline of what your month will look like. Now, I don't read into it too much--at least I try to resist the temptation to use the horscope as a be-all-end-all guide, but sometimes I can't help but believe.

Last Friday, the day before my 24th birthday, I watched the full moon rise. It appeared to be the biggest moon the earth has seen in a long while. There's no doubt that the tides rose and fell accordingly during this full moon's phase--we have proven that the moon does influence such things. This "troublesome moon" has since past, and I'm glad I survived, Susan Miller had predicted that something tragic would happen.

I find it interesting that we have no problem understanding that the moon can push and pull the tides, but when it comes to our own lives, we dismiss the idea that the heavenly bodies have any influence over our own direction. Not to say that every horoscope is right and should be trusted, because it seems to be a science that no one could ever fully comprehend and predict, but if the moon can raise the tides with its proximity to our planet, and we are ultimately made of the same energetic material, there has to be some sort of correspondence.

Though nothing tragic happened during this full moon for me, I could not help but feel a dark gloom over my life during this time. Something was weighing on me differently. I hope it lifts as the moon shift further away, and mars and venus continue their huge strides accross the night sky. Perhaps it's all nonsense--an escape--an excuse to use when things are great or not so good. Perhaps. But I can't help but believe.


On another note, here's a poem:

The Whale

Open vessel,
A fleeting reflection
Of collected lifetimes
Accumulated in a moment,
Then gone.

But there is more.
A lens through which to see
What is arising inside.
A story to make sense of it all
Outside.

Further beyond
The seat and the story.
Truth, it is a breeching whale.
Watch it submerge in a reflection
Of you.

I’ve seen the stars
Appear through the darkness,
A full aching, heavy heart
Unfolds like a river over rocks
It moves.

The spirit waits
In all things to be seen.
Just when surrender sets in,
Reveals itself so we don’t forget
To shine.

We all have...stuff

Yes we do. And it's funny how we feel more self-conscious and try to cover up our stuff because everyone else is so busy covering up that we're made to feel like we're the only ones carrying around a 100 pound bag of guilt or sadness or fear or any kind of concoction of suffering. The truth is that we all have stuff, suffering, baggage. I've spent a good few years ignoring mine, thinking it's not valid because it's not severe. But sometimes it’s the subtle persistence of suffering that can be more destructive.

I've started my New Years resolution early this time: I will not lie to myself anymore about what I carry. I will not be responsible for everyone. I will not gauge my happiness on anything outside of myself. I will stop holding on to my emotion. I will not make excuses for other people hurting me. I will be free. I will be free. I will be free.

And it's not like this all came out of nowhere. I had some hands on me yesterday, getting bodywork--my first time, with a good friend and teacher. She knows me, but she knows me ever better no that she could actually feel where I hold on to my stuff, my guilt, in particular. It's right in the middle of my back where she kept running her fingers deep and I kept flinching away--not because of pain, but just because there was something there I had never quite put my finger on (pun intended).

Sometimes we shove ourselves off to the side. We shouldn't. Take time to take care of yourself and know that what you feel is real.

This is a poem about the stuff I hold on to:

Guilt equals
sadness plus Responsibility.
I am always
the Responsible one,
the care taker,
the constant.
I am happy when
everyone else is happy.
I want to have a long talk with you
about how I feel.
I conceal this hurt
and my big soul takes over.
But my body can't lie anymore.
I am sad for your loneliness.
I cannot be responsible one more day.
I am happy when I am happy.

Thank goodness...

Thank goodness for today. For the outcome. For it all being over. The past few days, it has been impossible to escape from the bombardment of media over the election. Watching Obama give his acceptance speech filled me up with -- for the first time in a long time -- a feeling of pride for our country. I'm not very politically inclined, but I would be ignoring a big part of our world if I left these comments out.

And thank goodness for the time change. Last week it was so hard to pull myself out of bed. I completely skipped my meditation practice in the morning because I never had enough time before heading off to work. My excuse every morning was that I would just take the whole week off, and tie it in a neat little bow and forgive myself. But getting back into my meditation practice now that the time change has come and the dust is settling, is more challenging than I thought it would be to get back into that pattern of sitting. The analogy of the mind as a puppy dog still fits: You want it to sit and stay, but it continually gets distracted and runs away to play. So you get up, sit it back down, tell it to stay. Over and over again. Until it finally stays. But just like a puppy dog, if you let up for a few days or a week, sometimes it forgets how to sit still.

Another big change this week: I put in my notice at my daytime job. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest thing to do with the financial melt-down that we are in. But for me, the money and security is not worth my time spent in an office with no windows and no contact except with my computer. I told my boss I'd give him six months to find and train someone new. Now I only wish I last that long. Part of me will miss the consistency of the job, but I know I need to shake things up. Getting too comfortable anywhere is not conducive to growth.

Everything's Okay

So here we are. The end of September feels more like the end of the world with the financial meltdown. Is it 2012 yet? There’s a constant buzz everywhere you go, analyzing, worrying, rationalizing what is going on. It is our responsibility as citizens of this country to educate ourselves—always—on the important issues that face our country. It is our responsibility to educate ourselves so that we can make informed decisions. But as citizens of this world, of this universe, and of the bigger picture as whole, it is also our responsibility to step back from these situations that seem to suck us in with all the media coverage, all the alarmist buzz, all of the hype.

Don’t get me wrong: we are on the cusp of a very important time. Well, actually, forget that cusp. We are in the midst of history making with what is going on right now, and there are actions that need to be taken and talking that needs to take place and it is of utmost importance that we educate ourselves about this situation so that we can be well-informed citizens. But do me (and yourself) this one favor: step back, close your eyes, go inside and smile.

There is an unshakable place within all of us. Yoga has been my avenue there. When I am on my red sticky mat, breathing, moving, feeling my body on the inside, articulating small movements that build one upon the other, opening my heart, the whirlwind of life and its worries dissipate. As my practice has developed I’ve found that even when I’m off my mat I can return to this place of stillness, this place of stability and hope. I am my own best friend. I am okay. I am alive and breathing. I am here, feeling. The outside world may collapse at any moment, but there is something so solid inside.

Call it God, a soul, spirit, the universe. It is not dependent upon the condition of the outside world. So close your eyes, connect to that place that is always okay because you are here living, feeling, breathing, knowing there is something that lives on despite the suffering of the world. Now, more than ever, we need to connect inside to the deepest part of ourselves. We must not ignore what is going on in the outside world, but we must approach these very difficult times with a grounded, open, believing heart, that knows everything will be okay. We owe ourselves this space.