Emancipate Yourself from Negativity

I taught yoga at 9 am this morning, after leaving work in the Emergency Department a mere 7 hours earlier (that would be 2 am :-). When I woke up to get ready, I felt bitter at having to teach, considering I would much rather spend my morning asleep. In response to these feelings of bitterness, a voice inside my head dared remind me that I always resent waking up for a morning obligation, regardless of if I had or had not worked the night before. It went on to suggest that the very act of teaching yoga would transform my whiny thoughts and feelings into inspired ones. Finally, the voice concluded that I would love teaching today and leave invigorated.

I was shocked at the confidence of this voice, and a bit annoyed at having my whiny tirade interrupted. Its assertions intrigued me, however, and I became curious as to if the voice's conclusions would manifest. As an experiment, I stopped whining and instead focused on brushing my teeth, eating my cereal, and getting out the door. Driving to class, I noticed an odd feeling - the part of me that likes to whine and be a victim of circumstance was hoping that my inner voice would prove wrong, and that I would teach a terrible class and leave defeated.

Fortunately, the voice was dead on. I taught what I think was a solid and creative class. I began with a theme that I recently revisited in my journal - recognizing that the way you use your energy in a yoga pose is similar to the way you direct your energy in life. Taking this theme to practice, I explained a common bad habit among yogis - to do Warrior II pose with shoulders elevated and jaw clinched. Yogis will engage their shoulders this way because it gives the false impression of stronger arms. Tensing the jaw is something yogis often do when they are concentrating. Both of these actions are a waste of precious energy. Relaxing their shoulders and jaws allows yogis to redirect their muscular energy to a strong foundation and an engaged core, which leads to a more steady and comfortable pose. This example is very similar to redirecting the energy spent whining towards teaching a beautiful yoga class :-)

As class went on, I thanked my inner voice for its reassurance that I would find inspiration through the very act of teaching. For our final 5 minutes of shavasana or corpse pose, I played Bob Marley's "Redemption Song". During my closing, I repeated his wisdom, "Emancipate yourself from mental slavery - none but ourselves can free our mind", reminding my students and myself that practicing yoga can free us from our bad habits. I smiled inwardly, remembering my own recent emancipation from my whiny ego!

I am far from automatically giving my inner voice center stage. There will no doubt be other times when my pessistic ego drowns out my inner voice. However, this morning I managed my own yoga lesson before even leaving my house - I quieted my mind enough to clearly hear my inner voice, and then changed my mindset according to what I heard. Not bad for a sleep deprived amateur!

A Year and a Journal Well Spent

It is not yet December 31, although it is the last day of November. Either way, I have a very strong sense of things wrapping themselves up. I can't explain it, but it's there. Maybe it has something to do with two important milestones that have recently come to pass, and one that is very close to realization.

My first milestone has to do with a small women's dinner group of which I am lucky enough to be a part. Every month I join three amazing women for dinner at a random Phoenix restaurant. We've been hosting these monthly meetings since the Fall of 2008, and have managed to sustain our commitment month after (almost) month. The significance of these dinners is subtle to the observer - four women, meeting up on some random Tuesday in some schwanky restaurant, sharing stories about work. However, to the trained observer, we are four kindred spirits bearing our souls and sharing our deepest motivations. We always have appetizers, never skip dessert, drink a few ;-) bottles of wine and usually close down the restaurant. It is truly magical, and we've been clearing our schedules for these monthly dinners for over a year now. I'd like to give a shout out to my DI crew! See you next week girls!

Second, as of November 18 this blog is one year old! My schedule of posts has not been exactly - ummmm - regular. In fact, its irregularity has mirrored my meditation schedule - how appropriate! Nonetheless, as I review previous posts, I feel gratitude at having a venue to share my thoughts. Thank you to all who continue to read and I am sorry when I drag my stories on and on. For those of you who know me well, this should not surprise you!

Finally, one important milestone is still pending - I am nearing the end of a journal. I have had 10 blank pages remaining for about 3 months now :-) I think I've been avoiding writing in my journal so I won't have to finish it. Having a journal full of reflection is apparently my latest security blanket. Yesterday afternoon I picked it up and thumbed through, from beginning to end. I found some great stuff! I know that I need to let go, and start fresh in a journal full of blank pages. However, before I do, I am going to dedicate my next few posts to some of my journal ramblings.

As a prelude to this, I will share some mantras that I have used in my meditation practice, and kept track of in my journal:

1. Honor the words left unspoken - I tend to share A LOT, and this mantra reminds me that not everything has to be verbalized.
2. Find courage in vulnerability - Through a few difficult encounters that left me feeling very vulnerable, I learned that vulnerability is not actually weakness but egoless strength.
3. Create space - The theme for my 33rd year on earth is to shed obligatory activities that clutter up my mind and pursue mindful activities that bring me inspiration and peace of mind.
4. Feel the fear and do it anyway - A huge realization after I began mediating was the number of times that fear holds me back, even from seemingly simple things (like meditating - ha!). This mantra helps me face these realities.

As I find closure in November, 2009, and find the courage to fill those last 10 pages of my journal, I will recommit myself to meditation. I will remember lessons learned over the last year of monthly dinners, irregular blog posts and countless journal entries. And I will strive to hear my intuition, that quiet voice of clarity speaking to me beneath the chatter of my everyday life, guiding me if only I will listen.

In the Presence of a Storyteller

Last night, I met one of my heroes. Dr. Carl Hammerschlag is a Psychiatrist trained on the East Coast who has worked many years with Native American populations in the Southwest. He has written books about how to get in touch with the true healer within. In addition, he publishes a great blog called Schlabytes.

Dr. H lives in Phoenix and Lisa, one of his daughters, teaches yoga at a studio where I occasionally practice. The two of them decided to host a workshop combining his gift for storytelling and her gift for dynamic yoga. I am usually a middle to back row yoga student, but last night, I brought my yoga mat right to the front row - I wanted to be as close to the Storytelling as possible.

Dr. H did not disappoint. He opened up the evening with a story about a Native American man, sitting in a teepee with his grandson. The grandson noticed his grandfather staring intently into the fire, and thinking he was upset, the grandson asked, "Grandfather, why are you upset?" The grandfather told his grandson, "I have two dogs nibbling at my heart. One dog is fear, and the other is love. They are both slowly nibbling away at my heart." The grandson candidly asked, "Which one will win, grandfather."

And his grandfather said, "The one that I feed."

After Dr. H's introductory metaphor, we partnered with another yogi in the room, did a few partner stretches, and then shared a candle lighting experience. As we ended this section, Dr. H reminded us of the practical wisdom of the word "Namaste" - to look for others whose inner lights remind us of the light inside of ourselves.

For the next hour, Lisa, Dr. H's daughter, guided us through her energetic style of yoga. We swayed back and forth, threw our arms into the air and even shook our bon bons, all in time to dance and yoga music. This was not the yoga I was used to, but Lisa's enthusiasm was truly contagious. After ramping up our energy, and then slowing us back down, she returned us to a place of comfort and openness from which to sit and enjoy for her father's stories.

As Dr. H rose to begin his part of the workshop, I opened my journal and prepared to jot down whatever Schlagbytes I could capture. I have included a few below. He spoke for "35 minutes of uninterrupted Hammerschlag" and opened up the floor for questions.

At the end of the evening, I approached Dr. H with a copy of one of his books and asked him to sign. We spoke a bit about practicing medicine and then I shook his hand, telling him what a true pleasure it had been to share this experience with him. He was gracious and humble.

A few Schlabytes:

- Take leaps of faith, not leaps of certainty. Dr. H encourages us to avoid making moves from a point of certainty. He ascertains that one's future will no doubt be a repeat of the past if one always insists on acting from a place of certainty. Instead, he encouraged us all to take risks, and move from a place of vulnerability, as this is the only real opportunity for new growth.

- You must learn to dance in order to heal. Dr. H is the son of Holocaust survivors. For much of his life, he harbored what he considered a justifiable anger toward Germany. It was not until he came to Native American country, where he was labelled a "White Man" and blamed for past atrocities towards Native people, that he realized he needed to explore his own feeling towards Germans. On one of many proceeding trips to Germany, Dr. H was at a World Cup Soccer game where a young German man, draped in a German flag, lured him into a celebration dance in the street. Dr. H could not help himself - as he joined the young man in his dance, celebrating a German soccer win, Dr. H realized that he had finally learned his healing dance.

- You must ask for what you need from others. Dr. H points out that most of us are terrible at asking for what we need. Instead of directly saying to someone, "I need you to do this for me," we drop hints and act in ways that suggest what we want. When we don't get what we want, most of us blame the other person's stupidity, or inability to interpret our many hints and indirect gestures. The truth of this scenario is that the only person to blame for not getting what we want is ourselves - for not having the ability to ask.

- If it doesn't feel good, you are doing it wrong. This is what Dr. H's wife told her daughters during their first "sex talk". This bit of a wisdom has many other applications in life - and Dr. H summarized these by saying, "Don't subordinate your own feelings by letting someone else to tell you what you should or shouldn't feel."

Health as a Teacher

I never realized how much more I relate to others when their experience is negative, sad or depressing, until I was diagnosed with rosacea. Rosacea is a skin condition that is "chronic and incureable" - I have had this condition for my entire life, it has waxed and waned since my teenage years and recently reappeared in my adulthood. It usually appears on the face, and is therefore very distressing for those it affects. Many treatment options are available, most offering mediocre results at best. Physicians are encouraged to "supplement medical treatment with patient reassurance" as "many patients suffer from low self confidence".

Ughhh - my damaged skin literally crawled as I read this research. I don't necessarily suffer from low self confidence, but who wants a chronic incureable disease that impairs your physical appearance, your face in particular, and does not respond to treatment?! With the reemergence of this condition in my adulthood, I became obsessed with it. As is my habit, I began repeating these frustrating facts over and over in my head, also telling my friends and family about my whoa's, ultimately making myself more and more anxious about my skin.

What I did not repeat in my head was that the condition is neither disabling nor life threatening. It is occasionally uncomfortable and embarassing, but it does not TRULY interefere with a person's ability to work, play or interact with others. Those who despair incessantly over their physical appearance may hate going to work during a flare up, or may be less likely to go to dinner with friends, but these denials of normal life have more to do with a person's REACTION to the condition, and not the condition itself. When I am at my worst, I chose to ignore these encouraging facts and instead focus on things that perpetuate my feelings of anxiety and depression.

I recently signed onto a blog of people who suffer from rosacea. Their comments were not encouraging - most stated that they had used several treatments over a years time with no improvement. Story after story fed into my own sense of helplessness! Their stories stayed with me for a few days, until I realized something vital about the bloggers - where were the success stories? It was easy to think that every person with rosacea was losing the battle. I began to consider that it was it largely the people with negative experiences that sought out the blog. Maybe, those with success stories were too busy living their lives to post on a blog?!

Slowly but surely, my rosacea success story has unfolded. As is the case with most challenges in our lives, this skin problem of mine has led to some positive changes in my life. So far it has motivated me to give up dairy (aghhhh - I love cheese!!!) and decrease my alcohol intake (ouch - I love wine!!!!), two known triggers for flare ups. I still feel some degree of hopelessness and frustration, and I still secretly obsess over the subtle changes in my skin on an hourly/daily basis ("Can someone hand me a mirror, I feel the need to obsess over my skin..."). But I am learning to be more patient with treatment options over time, less fearful of what other's think, and more responsible for my state of mind. Energy follows thought, and even minor health problems can serve as practice for redirecting your thoughts towards more positive things.

Tending the Garden of Your Mind

My paternal grandmother had a garden. In spite of her small cottage style house in a very urban part of Albuquerque, she had a delightfully large backyard. Her garden was mostly vegetables and to feed it, she had a compost pile. After we prepared meals, we would take the food scrapes out to her compost pile. From my little Cajun grandmother I first learned the value of recycling.

As a result of this fond childhood memory, gardens have always held a place of intrigue in my mind. Although I did not inherit my grandmother's green thumb, and have a potted plant graveyard next to my house to prove it, I continue to imagine one day having my own thriving vegetable and flower garden.

I tell you this because recently I came across a lovely analogy likening gardens to the mind. I found the analogy as I was rereading "Stroke of Insight," the true story of Jill Bolte Taylor, PhD, who experienced a brain hemorrhage in her left brain. As a neuroanatomist, Dr. Bolte describes with amazing skill the anatomy of the brain, the location of her hemorrhage and why her disabilities manifested as they did. She also describes the insights that her stroke made possible, e.g. the name of her book, "Stroke of Insight." The excerpt about tending the garden of the mind is a beautiful example of such an insight:

"I view the garden of my mind as a sacred patch of cosmic real estate that the universe has entrusted me to tend over the years of my lifetime... Regardless of the garden I inherited, once I consciously take over the responsibility of tending my mind, I choose to nurture those circuits that I want to grow, and consciously prune back those circuits I prefer to live without. Although it is easier for me to nip a weed when it is just a sprouting bud, with determination and preserverance, even the gnarliest of vines, when deprived of fuel, will eventually lose its stength and fall to the side."

I see so many wonderful themes in this paragraph. First, I love the idea of "the garden I inherited." This reminds me of how much we like to blame our parents for our shortcomings. Our parents may have served as less than perfect role models for certain behaviors, or they may have simply encouraged certain behaviors in our own personality that ended up being destructive later in life. Regardless of our past parental influences, Dr. Bolte asserts that we must, at some point in our lives, take responbility for our garden and at that time, give up blaming anyone else for the outcome! How many times have we made comments indicating our childhood as the culprit for our recent dilemma. "If only mom hadn't rewarded me with chocolate, I would crave it less now that I am an adult!" Taking responsibility for the garden of our mind means no more blaming Mom and Dad!

Next, Dr. Bolte asserts that one can and should make a conscious effort to tend the neural circuits that benefit our sense of well being and prune the circuits that sabotage our mental state. In considering this section, I realized that I treat my physical body much differently than I treat my mind. If I have a goal for my physical body, I steadily work towards it employing good habits that I reinforce daily. I work out, do yoga, try to eat right and take my vitamins. I avoid certain foods that make me feel sick to my stomach, or bloated. I stretch after exercise to avoid straining muscles. I consider how my body feels and alter my behavior accordingly.

When considering my mind, I behave like a victim of my thought process. I sit back and let my mind race, as if I have no control over where it goes. I engage in negative trains of thought that make me feel anxious, angry, sad and fearful, and make no effort to alter them. Dr. Bolte's apt description reminds me that I can affect how my mind works by recognizing how certain thoughts make me feel, and working steadily, day after day, to filter them out until their neural circuit becomes less and less automatic.

Finally, and most importantly for me, is that "even the gnarliest of vines, when deprived of fuel, will eventually ... fall." To consider getting my mind in shape, I become most overwhelmed by my deeply ingrained negative mental habits. For example, since childhood I have had this habit of imagining worst case scenarios. From imagining my own death and funeral, to those of my loved ones, these stress-inducing daydreams have persisted into adulthood. My most favorite one recently is this: "What if someone breaks into my house? What if I can't find my phone to call the police? How would I protect myself and, more importantly, my dogs?" I can take myself from almost asleep to alert, pulse racing, shoulders tightening, totally anxious in a matter of seconds. This is a deeply ingrained habit that fuels my own anxiety. To think that I can uproot this gnarly vine of self-perpetuating anxiety with steady mental exercise is very meaningful for me.

Overall, Dr. Bolte's excerpt reminds me that I have not only the responsibility, but indeed the capability to tame the wild vines growing in the garden of my mind. This accountability is both enlightening and empowering. I know it doesn't happen overnight, but every ounce of awareness that I apply to how my mind works will take me closer to that beautiful garden that I was meant to grow!

Creating Space

About a year ago, I started to feel burned out with how I was spending my time. I am very active as a volunteer, and projects that I previously enjoyed began to feel like work. Rather than jump on my computer to answer emails from other volunteers or work on a plan for the next conference, I would avoid even turning my computer. I knew that this was a sign that I needed to re-evaluate my commitments and consider other ways to spend my time.

I developed a catch phrase for this process, "Creating Space." It might not seem very profound, but for me it was a varitable revelation. With the way I spend time, open space does not remain so fo very long. I love my planner, my to do lists and my email inbox. When I have nothing to do, I straighten my house, so as to feel productive. I fully admit that waking up on a day when I have nothing planned makes me anxious.

And yet, I long to develop a comfort with open space, or time without obligations. I still struggle with my meditation practice, and my biggest obstacle is a packed schedule that does not seem to allow time to sit. I want to walk my dogs daily, cook meals at home and spend time reading. All of these do not rise to the level of line item on my to do list or appointment in my planner, and many times they get bumped in favor of more active tasks.

As a result of my "Creating Space" campaign, I have let one of my volunteer positions go, and am wrapping up another in 6 months. Additionally, I have taken a part time job working longer shifts, but less of them per week. By clearing my schedule, creating that much coveted space, I was hoping to find myself reinspired. I figured all that was needed to reinvigorate was flexibility in my schedule. In support of this concept, the label of a tea bag that I opened the other day said, "Empty yourself and let the universe fill you." How fateful that I would get this message. It fit right into my personal campaign for meaning!

As this process has unfolded, however, I have developed misgivings about this whole creating space idea. As 2009 rounds its halfway point and marches towards autumn, I have days where all I do is read, walk the dogs and cook tomorrow's lunch today. All things I was hoping to have more time for, and yet I feel a range of unpleasant emotions - guilt for not doing "more" with my time, bored at doing the same "routine" things over and over again, and restless at wondering what is so great about free time.

In short, I wonder what constitutes a day well spent,and more importantly, who exactly validates how well I spend my day - my mother, my husband, my friends, or the infamous "they", experts in all things, including how days should be spent.

Maybe my schedule is not the only thing I need to empty. Clearly there are aspects of my approach to life that need rethinking. In my mind I need to create the space needed to validate how I spend my time. I need to take ownership of this concept and move forward unapologetically.

Find Strength in Vulnerability

I recently discovered how it feels to be vulnerable. Apparently, I have been knee jerking the feeling away for quite sometime - likely since childhood. Now that I have experienced vulnerability and lived to tell about it, I am fascinated with the potential strength that vulnerability can unleash.

My recent experiences have identified a few different faces of vulnerability. In each situation, I arrived at the same vulnerable interlude but from very different angles. In the first scenario, I expressed some deep personal needs to a close friend, who then aggressively challenged my needs. In the other situation, I asserted some important personal boundaries to a stranger, but did so in a very public, very rude way. After the above scenes played themselves out, I was left feeling small and contracted, protective and fragile, guilty and ashamed. In summary, I felt like the weakest version of myself.

When I feel any of the above feelings, my immediate reaction is to do anything possible to reverse their progression. Even writing about these experiences makes me feel panicky. I hate, hate, hate to feel small, fragile and ashamed. I hate it so much that, after revealing my need for affection to a close friend, I would usually lash out in a way that would make affection towards me seem like a bad idea. I am so uncomfortable with feeling guilty that after previous conflicts with strangers, I have immediately called a like-minded friend in order to seek validation for my actions.

The common theme to both of my "vulnerable" experiences is that during each one, I was motivated by staying true to myself. With my close friend, I stuck my neck out to express needs that I had been trying to bury, but that kept creeping up regardless. Rather than retract my needs as previously stated or break out the emotional defenses that depended more on manipulation than sincerity, I stood my ground and let the vulnerability of laying it all out there set in.

Likewise, after I barked harshly at my stranger, I did not go externally to get judgment or validation. I gathered up my bad behavior and what was left of my self respect and spent several hours mulling over the proceeding emotions. I was conflicted because I had asserted myself in an important way, but had done so gracelessly. This made me feel proud, but immediately embarassed. Rather than call one of my amazingly supportive friends, I let myself feel this embarassment for a while, which helped me reconcyle everything internally first. Then, I called my friends to tell them the story, of course :-)

What I have discovered about feeling vulnerable is that treading in it for a bit doesn't kill you. Believe it or not, this is profound for me.

I have also found that my automatic responses to feeling vulnerable do not in fact make me less vulnerable, but rather less courageous. As I said above, these feelings surfaced when I expressed a need to someone that was then challenged. Apparently having needs makes me feel vulnerable. What I learned is that expressing these needs makes me courageous. Furthermore, not apologizing for these needs and open heartedly defending these needs makes me the bravest person on earth! (or at least the bravest version of myself :-)

I, for one, can not wait until the next time I feel vulnerable. I hope to harness that feeling of "Contracted Ashamed Protectiveness" and try to reinterpret it as "Unashamed Limitless Bravery".

Happy Birthday Mom!

You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope, as old as your despair.
Paul H. Duhn

You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.
Les Brown

You're not forty; you're eighteen with twenty two years of experience.
Anonymous

And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.
Abraham Lincoln

May I Live Like the Lotus

I recently visited a "Do It Yourself" pottery store. I chose an unfinished mug, picked out bright yellow and purple paint, and set out to capture inspiration via a morning cup of coffee. I had chosen the signature quote of Judith Hanson Lasater, a yoga teacher whom I respect very much, to decorate my mug: "May I live like the lotus, at home in muddy water."

When I first heard Judith repeat this mantra, I took it very literally. Having travelled to developing countries in Africa and South America, I knew my own discontent with being uncomfortable. Each trip made me realize how spoiled I am as a resident of the U.S. Temperature control is a wonderful thing, and after my first trip to a tropical country, I no longer took it for granted! So as I painted my cup with Judith's words, I meditated on the countries where I would travel in the future, and prayed for peace of mind in their metaphorical muddy waters.

Fast forward to the present. Currently, I am participating in a Shiva - the Jewish tradition in which family members sit for seven days after the passing of a loved one. Several family members are staying under one roof, sleeping, bathing, eating, and passing time in close proximity to one another. Emotions are high and issues long buried are coming to surface. My only true alone time takes place in the bathroom - where I do all of my best thinking anyway :-) As I got ready this morning, I found myself praying to be like the lotus, at home in these muddy waters.

I was surprised that I had not realized sooner the larger application of Judith's phrase. As I wade my way through these emotionally muddy waters, I find myself lacking. I am having trouble drumming up the compassion I routinely call on during my professional activities. When I need it most, it seems my well of compassion has run dry. Instead, I am spewing forth annoyance and anxiety. A situation that should inspire the best version of myself is triggering my "big fat jerk" tendency.

It is for this reason that my prayers to the lotus have changed. I no longer prioritize comfort in foreign lands, but rather courage to offer compassion in my own backyard.

Alternative Endings, aka Worst Case Scenario Trains of Thought

During a recent sitting session, I tried to create a joyful space, following the directions of a meditation article I had received in the mail. The article instructed me to remember a joyful feeling that I had once had and use this memory to change my present emotion. For me, choosing a situation to recreate was easy. In 1999, I traveled to Venezuela with friends and on a boat ride down the Paria Peninsula, we found ourselves in the middle of a huge pod of dolphins.

I had not wanted to go on the boat excursion, citing my fear of being in the middle of the ocean as the reason. My friends reassured me that we would skirt the coastline for the entire trip. Thirty minutes after departing, the "captain" of the small fishing boat consulted with his "crew" (ha, ha - it was a 16 foot boat) and turned the stern STRAIGHT out to sea. As the coastline moved further away, my stomach sank and I looked dreadfully out to sea. It was then that I noticed the first one cresting the water, then another. Soon there were pairs of dolphins jumping all around the boat. At one point, I counted close to 100 of them swimming in a giant circle all around. The experience was absolutely magical.

Initially, my left brain tried to control the situation: "Take pictures", "Capture the moment", "Click faster!", "Remember everything so you can tell your friends..." I fumbled with my camera, trying and failing to capture the dolphins mid-jump. Eventually I realized that with my face behind the lens, I was missing the experience. So I dropped the camera, turned my face into the ocean breeze and reached out into the ocean spray, surrendering to the sensations of the experience.

My right brain took over from here and my consciousness expanded. Being utterly present in this amazing moment, I felt my heart crack open and joy bubble into my throat. The tiny boat no longer contained the experience for me - gratitude spilled from my open heart, out of the boat and into the water. I felt utterly at peace. My left brain had quieted and was no longer trying to artificically capture the moment. I had given myself over to the blissfulness of the right brain.

As I sat in my house almost ten years later and meditated on the sheer beauty of this experience, it was relatively easy to reawaken these feelings. The difficulty proved in sustaining the joyful emotions for any length of time. At one point during my recollection, I jumped on a "Worst Case Scenario" train of thought. My imagination added an alternative ending, compliments of my pessimistic, anxiety ridden counter-self.

I imagined myself bouncing out of the boat as it hit an extra high wave. I saw a group of aggressive dolphins begin ramming me with their snouts, causing some major bruising before the boat could pull back around to rescue me. Once the boat did reach my brutalized body, I tried to heave myself in, causing the boat to capsize...

I got all this way before I realized that, instead of joy, I was creating anxiety. And even more disturbing, I was literally creating it from scratch, as these events never even happened! This self sabotage was amusing and disturbing at the same time. Creating a joyful space made me realize that I often do quite the opposite, out of shear habit.

Feel the Fear - and Do It Anyway

I recently made a list of 10 things that I want for my life. It was an excellent exercise - although 10 may sound like a lot, it really forced me to prioritize. It also helped me identify how closely I am living my life towards these 10 ideals. After writing and rewriting this list, I determined that the thing I wanted most was "freedom from the fear."

I don't consider myself an overtly fearful person. Other than a healthy fear of small spaces and small airplanes, I don't necessarily shy away from challenges. I have survived giving speeches. I have taught yoga in front of 30 people, wearing moderately form fitting clothing when I didn't feel like being in form fitting clothes! I have eaten alone at popular restaurants, taken road trips by myself, and traveled in foreign countries alone.

The fear that plagues me is an undercurrent that holds me back from meaningful situations. It is the thought that makes me hesitate when expressing my true emotions, the self doubt that prevents me from trying new things. The insecurities that prevent me from expressing constructive criticism, or more boggling, stop me from sharing sincere praise and gratitude. It is the fear of feeling vulnerable, exposed for my deepest wishes, and utterly open to criticism. I find this absolutely terrifying!

Recently, this fear has come to play with my commitment to meditiation. I did not consider the awkwardness at having to step outside of my usual daily activities and excuse myself to meditate. I find myself too embarassed, at times, to tell my husband, "Ummm, don't bother me for 20 minutes, I am sitting quietly and breathing deeply." Instead of putting it out there, I wait until he goes to the gym or leaves for his office, and then I take my seat.

I know that this is self sabotage at its most ironic. It's not that my husband does not respect what I am doing. Granted, he has found it a little bizarre that his wife, who was previously cynical about all things religious, is suddenly talking about chakras and praying. Nonetheless, he is supportive and wants me to pursue this goal.

The reality behind my awkwardness is that I feel very exposed. I sincerely want a meditative practice, and yet I don't want anyone to see me struggle with this goal. I don't want my weaknesses out there - I don't want to appear "imperfect". I am also afraid of being made fun of, or mocked, and this kills me because I want to be credible in everything that I do. Too often I give in to the fear, foregoing meditation in order to avoid an awkward situation.

This fear is so subtle and yet so pervasive and inhibiting. My goal is to recognize when this subtle fear surfaces, and then subsequently influences my actions. Ideally, I can recognize the fear, push through it - and do what I am fearing anyway!

Om....Ram....I love my dog....

I continue to play with different ways of meditating - mantras, meditation beads, counting my breaths, imagining streams of colored light entering my nostrils and heading towards my third eye! Don't laugh - these are all things I have practiced under the guidance of skilled yoga and meditation teachers. This afternoon, I was trying out a mantra I composed for a friend, "Om Ram Namo Namaha". I did not want to offer her a mantra that was awkward to repeat, or combine with breathing. My intention was to practice it today, with my own meditation.

My spare bedroom doubles as my meditation sanctuary. Next to an old futon, I have placed a meditation cushion, yoga mat and blankets and a little altar of sorts - a Ganesh statute and some elephant candle holders Mom gave me one Christmas. Today my body was loose - I had done yoga before sitting, so my hips, back and legs were open and ready for stillness. Once I settled onto the cushion and took my seat, I began breathing and repeating the words I had written for my friend. To my surprise, the mantra worked like a charm, helping relax my mind and focus my thoughts on the present. Until, Nookie, my maltese puppy, nudged his nose under my hand, demanding my attention.

Prior to this moment, he had been torturing Sam, my yorkshire terrier, with body slams and barking. This rowdiness in the beginning of my meditation is not uncommon. I often invite my dogs into the room while I am sitting, but usually my stillness calms them and within minutes they are lounging on the futon. Today was unusual. My mantra had helped me drown out the racket, but once the maltese turned his attention to me, I was helpless.

I tried for a second to ignore him. Afterall, the point of meditating is to shut out the outside world - right? Unfortunately, I get so much joy from my attention seeking puppies, to ignore them is to deny myself too much joy! Nookie and Sam seek attention so shamelessly - nudging, jumping and barking until I give in, which happened quickly today.

I opened my eyes and grabbed Nookie, trying to stay connected to the meditation by continuing my mantra - "Om ram namo namaha." As Nookie licked my forehead and I nuzzled his neck, my mantra changed, "Om ram I love my dog, Om ram I love my dog." I might be insulting a Sanskrit scholar by combining a chakra sound with a statement of love for my dog, but my intention is to honor the meditation and honor what brings me joy!

I am no longer going to ignore my dogs during meditation. I will instead incorporate them into the practice, until they are calm enough to sit with me. Including a loving, playful animal can only strengthen my attempts at increasing awareness and my attachment to the present. Afterall, dogs are not forward thinking animals. What they know IS the present - and all they care about is being with the ones that love. What a wonderful lesson they have to teach us!

Diastolic Time

I just read the most amazing, almost over-my-head book ever... It is called "Crossing to Avalon" and it is by Jean Shinoda Bolen, MD. The book has multiple themes, many of which are based in myths and ancient stories that represent the potential depth and expansiveness of women. I finished the book yesterday. In one of the final chapters, I came across a lovely reference to the importance of taking time to nourish yourself. The best part about this excerpt is that it is set in medical terminology - the language of my beloved colleagues.

Here it is:

"We need time out of our everyday, outer-directed lives, and not just at major life transitions, when it is most adviseable, but regularly. I think metaphorically of how necessary it is that we have 'diastolic' time. For it is during diastole that the heart relaxes and fills. During systole, the heart contracts and sends a powerful stream of lifeblood out. For the heart to work and provide susenance to the whole body, it must relax and fill. And so must we."

How many ways do we take care of others? I do not have children, but I watch as my mommy and daddy friends (e.g. friends with kids) sacrifice hours on end meeting the spoken and unspoken needs of their children. Instead of kids, I take care of my husband and my dogs, and travel to my home town to take care of family there. I spend a great deal of time away from my family (Mom, sisters, brother, grandmother) drumming up ways to take care of them from a distance. As a healthcare provider, I take care of my patients and whenever possible, my colleagues. I also take care of my circle of local friends, and deliver virtual hugs to my extended network of long distance friends, in the form of emails, phone calls, cards and prayers.

Women and nurturing men find it easy to sacrifice themselves in order to take care of others. We intuitively know when others need us, and often try to deliver before anything is asked of us. We find it rewarding to "send a powerful stream of lifeblood out" to those we love. Dr. Bolen's words remind us that this lifeblood flows forward because we allow our heart to "relax and fill", to experience diastole. A heart that does not take the time to relax does not fill to its maximum, and has a decreased lifeblood flow - it sends out only a fraction of its potential.

This is the same for a woman or man who does not take time to nourish themselves. How well do you care for your children when you have not cared for yourself. My mommy and daddy friends tell stories of not showering or sleeping well for days, and being completely frustrated by the endless demands of their children. They feel like failures because they can not keep up or because they lose their tempers, and yet they are exhausted and overwhelmed. How can they be expected to deliver a full heart when they are not taking time to relax and fill?

In a small way, it is similar to when I work multiple shifts in a row at my job. After my fourth consecutive ten hour shift, I find that my compassion for my patients signficantly decreases. I may be treating a patient with the same exact symptoms as on my first shift, but my reaction to this latter patient is blunted by my exhaustion at doing nothing but eat, sleep and work for four days in a row. In addition, when I feel overwhelmed by obligations, I lose track of my local and long distance friends. When I lose the connection with my friends' lifeblood or pulse, I lose the ability to show up for them when they least expect it, but may need it most. As a woman who deeply values her connection to others, this leaves me feeling isolated and discontent.

Stepping off the cycle of self neglect and initiating a ritual of self nourishment is completely ignored, or never even realized, by many of those around me. We are taught to push through the frustrations, because if we can't overcome our overcrowded schedules, we will be considered failures. The key is to identify what helps you to relax and fill. For some of my friends, it is exercise. For others it is a nap and a bath. For me, it is a combination of exercise, yoga and meditation. I am also nourished by long conversations with best friends and a good book. Whatever works for you, it is time to simplify, slow down and get back to the basics. Once we make room for ourselves to relax and fill, we renew our ability to give back to others and ensure a powerful stream of lifeblood flow.