After the Ecstasy, the Suckiness #365Yoga

English: Masala Chai, Masala Tea, Spice Tea (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Part of yoga's transformational power is its ability to shift a person's perspective until that person's default thought is something like "life is good." Generally this is a positive change. Those who have made the swing tend to hang out together, sipping chai in a nearby bistro after yoga class and sharing stories about all the good things happening in their lives. And because positive energy is contagious, the group usually grows and local sales of comfortable t-shirts with happy messages skyrocket.

Maybe you've seen it happen. Maybe you're even part of it.

I sure am. After many years of practicing yoga and occasional t-shirt buying, I have come around to thinking that life is good. And for the most part, it is.

Except when it isn't.

There are times when life, in fact, sucks. No matter how many hours I spend on my mat, people I care about continue to pass away, illness still affects me and my family, car accidents happen, homes need repair, money stops coming in, and so on. Often these things pile one on top of another.

During the pre-yoga years I had refined the art of wallowing in self-pity so much that even now I sometimes can't see life past a hangnail. I'm not proud of this, but another sneaky yoga transformation is self-acceptance and a tendency to wallow is part of that self I'm accepting. In the middle of a good pity party the wanting-to-be-happy part of my brain reminds me to get on my mat, because my asana practice has a way of lifting my spirits. The wallowing part's response is usually "f*ck that, and who invited you to this party anyway?"

The wallowing part wins sometimes. After all, who wants to leave a good party? Unfortunately, the win usually comes when the suckiness has started piling up and I need my practice more than ever. And sometimes that means things seem worse than they are and difficulties get dragged out longer than they need to.

There is a book by Jack Kornfield called After the Ecstasy, the Laundry which explores, from a Buddhist perspective, how to deal with the suckiness that's still there after discovering that life is good. It's been years since I read it, and I probably should again because the details have faded. The title has stuck with me, though, reminding me that yoga doesn't end human suffering, just like it doesn't end chores. And, being an imperfect human, even a yoga teacher may blow off her practice and choose the pity party for awhile.

Does that mean I'm out of the positive vibes and chai club? Maybe. But there's another club after the ecstasy fades to wisdom. We sip chai and tell our stories and, when life sucks as it sometimes does, cry on each other's shoulders and drag one another to yoga class so we can get on our mats and rediscover that life is good. You'll recognize us by our well-worn and often stained t-shirts...with happy messages.

A Head Cold, an Adventure Story, Some Envy and Yoga #365Yoga

Freya Hoffmeister (Photo credit: eriksjos)

I tried to ignore my second head cold in less than a month, but couldn't really deny the heaviness in my head and finally slid back under the covers for an afternoon of napping and reading. My bedside book pile consists of books about yoga and books about adventure, most of the latter being monthly reads of the Women's Adventure Magazine Book Club group on Facebook, in which I lurk for the reading suggestions. I passed up the heavy-thinking-required yoga reading and picked up Fearless by Joe Glickman, the story of Freya Hoffmeister's record-setting circumnavigation of Australia in a sea kayak.

Freya's year-long paddle included encounters with sharks, crocodiles and stinging jellyfish, crazy currents and surf, fatigue, seasickness and unpleasant rashes. It was an impressive journey by a woman who never doubted she would be able to complete it. While I admired her tenacity, I had trouble, and I believe the author did too, with Freya's lack of humility. But, when it comes to people who have both the physical strength to accomplish amazing feats and the organizational skills to make them happen, I tend towards a bit of un-yogini-like envy.

My adventurous heart tends to reach further than my body wants to go. When I announced my latest battle with germs on Facebook, one of my friends was quick to comment, "Why are you always sick?!? Between your diet and physical exercise, you should be the healthiest person on Charley Hill!!" That, unfortunately, has been my life-long question and one that, despite years of work towards wellness, remains unanswered. What makes me so susceptible to upper-respiratory-system-attacking viruses is a mystery. So is the extreme fatigue and depression that comes every time I ramp up my physical activity beyond "easy," which, while allowing me to build endurance, means I will never run as fast as I'd like to, or faster than a turtle.

During her year of extreme kayaking, Freya Hoffmeister never had to spend a few days in her tent on the beach nursing a head cold. It's possible that the author decided not to mention it, but I find it hard to believe he would leave out an illness when he was so careful to mention every time she puked from seasickness and how she managed bowel movements without leaving her boat. While my heart longs for an adventure as amazing as Freya's (although I'd be happy without the crocodiles), I have to resign myself to knowing my body my may never be up for it.

So what do I do? I get back on my yoga mat. It was yoga that taught me to accept my body as it is. It was my asana practice that got me to the place where I could start running and not stop for 13.1 miles, which is pretty darn good even if I never break out of the back of the pack. It is yoga that reminds me to rest when I need to, that it's okay to drop into Balasana or take a nap. And it's yoga that pulls the rug out from under my ego and shows me the way to be humble and grateful.

Perhaps I will have to experience the grandest of adventures in the pages of a book, and perhaps my practice includes sitting with the envy I feel on the way to self-acceptance. Perhaps that inner exploration is the greatest adventure of all.

December 13 - Sabio (Wisdom)

What lesson or piece of wisdom did you learn from a child this year? Did it surprise you?

There isn't enough chocolate. No, that's not what I learned. I'm just pointing out that there isn't enough chocolate to get me through this crazy week. I've been very busy and accomplished lots, but I'm behind on my reverb11 posts.


I'm also behind on my Christmas shopping, but that's a whole different story.

The reverb11 questions are getting more challenging. I was glad to have a few extra days to think about this prompt, because if I had gone with the first thing that popped into my head it would have been lame and superficial, and wouldn't have honored the little boy who teaches me something every day.

A couple of months ago, my son and I were standing by the front door watching for the school bus. While we peeked sideways through the glass, trying to see the bus coming down the street, my son told me that the day before he had been pushed off the bus seat by a classmate. He was unhurt, but momma bear's spirit rose in me and I started to growl about not letting kids pick on him. I was ready to tell him to punch the offending kid when I caught myself and stopped.

My son is not a fighter. He's not weak (you should see his 8-year-old-rock-climber biceps) but he's sweet and sensitive. He's the kind of boy who finds a bug in the house and, rather than smash it, will give it something to eat and gently take it outside. He reads and draws and creates amazing things with Legos. He hugs. He doesn't push and he doesn't punch.

While I was biting my tongue I realized that by telling my son to do something out of character I was asking him to stop being himself. I'd spent my adolescence and young-adulthood trying to be someone I wasn't and it has taken years of hard work to finally be okay with simply being me. Asking my son to be anything but who he was would start him down the same path of self-loathing that I'd traveled. The best thing I could do was support him as he worked through life's challenges in his own way.

Standing there wearing his coat and backpack, my son looked up at me and in that instant I learned what it means to truly accept someone. As the bus pulled up, yellow lights flashing, I gave him a hug and said, "I love you just the way you are." And I meant it. Then he was out the door and running down the driveway.

Acceptance

Image by tarnalberry via Flickr

The focus of my yoga classes this week has been acceptance. We've been practicing being present with the body we have today and accepting whatever our limitations are. We've been embracing our imperfection and approaching our practice without expectations, just letting it be what it is going to be. I've been reminding my yoga students that who we are changes every day, as another 24 hours of experiences get woven into the tapestry of our lives.

Letting go of our egos and accepting everything about ourselves, even the things we don't particularly like, is challenging. I'm guilty of sneaking a look at the person on the mat next to me and comparing my form to hers. Sometimes I have to rein in my ego when I guide a student into an asana deeper than my body will ever experience. My tight hamstrings and crooked hips have been berated and cursed - in the privacy of my own practice, of course.

The safest asana practice is one that starts with acceptance. When we approach our mat with expections for ourselves, telling our body that it is going to comply or else, we set ourselves up for failure and a potential injury as we try to force our bodies beyond our physical limitations. A practice begun with awareness and acceptance of our bodies, without judgement, can be very freeing. As we move to today's edge we can explore our limitations and discover little openings that allow us to gently ease deeper into the pose.

One asana that really tests my ability to accept my own limitations is Paschimottanasana (seated forward fold). My cursed hamstrings and a tilted pelvis limit my forward movement. My ego screams in my head as I glance around at a room full of yoginis resting on their legs without strain while I struggle just to reach my toes. For many years I hated Paschimottanasana, gritting my teeth and enduring the pose whenever it was included in a class.

It wasn't until I started working with some students with lower back issues that I found my peace with Paschimottanasana. Working with straps around our feet and blankets under our sitting bones, we moved forward tiny amounts, creating just a bit of stretch in the hamstrings without forcing the low back into an uncomfortable position.

And, slowly, my hamstrings are starting to open.

I'm not expecting that one day I'll be able to fold in half. (I'm trying not to have any expectations at all.) I'm just enjoying exploring my new edge in my practice, rather than worrying about what comes after it. For me, being able to hold the pose for peaceful minutes instead of painful seconds is better than being able to lay on my legs.



Note: my seeds are still hanging out in the soil. Stay tuned...