Dirt, Dirt Everywhere

The theme for my 34th year on earth declared itself today in a most surprising way - in my reaction to my newly demolized front patio. Before I explain this scenario, a bit of background.

The transition from 33 to 34 years old has not been magical for me. The theme that dominated 2009, "creating space", seemed to hold more meaning and direction for my activities last year. As 2010 dawned and my 34th birthday approached, my commitment free schedule heralded the completion of my "creating space" project, and yet no new theme emerged. Instead, all the space that I had created seemed to create a vacuum where more than a few things were collapsing. I began my 34th year with too much time on my hands and not enough to do with this coveted time. Uncertainties further flared as I realized that a new theme was lacking.

Back to my demolized front patio. Delfino, my landscaper, informed me two days ago of a leak beneath the concrete on my front patio. My front patio is comprised of two sidewalks (one from the street directly south of the house and the other from the driveway to the east), two large concrete squares poured to fill in the space between these sidewalks and my house, and a walled-off bed of dirt where the stump of a previously graceful Queen Anne palm once grew. Delfino had localized the leak and needed one of the concrete squares demolized in order to make the repair. As I arranged for a concrete guy to do this small but surprisingly pricy job, the potential unearthed itself. Why not demolize both concrete squares and the walled off bed of dirt, unearthing a 12 foot area for planting versus repouring?! Luckily, my husband agreed with this project and we spent yesterday morning listening to Joe, our new concrete friend, destroy and haul off the concrete whose time on our front patio had expired.

I stepped out of the house today to visit a neighbor and met face to face with our current patio - our sidewalk, as of yet unaffected, is flanked by muddy heaps and holes with irrigation piping scattered about. This triggered a thought, "Even in this state, it's already more beautiful than when the concrete was intact."

And that's it - my 2010 theme. With dirt everywhere, there's more potential to grow.

This affinity for all things dirt has been "blossoming" since March. It was then, about ten weeks ago, that I planted my first garden. Inspired by the simple act of a friend showing me her and her husband's beautiful garden, I built a 4 foot by 4 foot raised bed, turned soil in three existing but empty flower beds and readied six pots that had most recently seen dead houseplants for replanting. Into these patches of dirt, I planted six tomato plants, four pepper and four squash plants, three cucumber vines, two cantaloupe vines, one eggplant and an herb garden full of basil, oregano, mint and parsley. The pale dusty dirt has transformed more than just the vegetables I planted. Every morning I rise early to water and weed, every afternoon I scout for fruit ripe for picking, and all hours in between I gaze with pride at what has sprouted from my green thumb.

A few weeks after initiating my garden, I received a catalog in the mail from Mesa Arts Center, a unique and impressive performing and visual arts complex in downtown Mesa. It was here that I found a community "Clay of the Month" class that fit perfectly into my schedule. On the first day of class, our instructor described how we would take what was once essentially DIRT and turn it into pots, platters and mugs. At this, I realized that I had another dirt project on my hands. After shaping 10 pounds of clay into nine items of questionable function, I again found pride in what my hands could do.

So what is the common thread between my frequent brush ups with dirt? At the risk of sounding "non-green", I don't think it has anything to do with "The Environment," so no worries there :-)

I do, however, believe that something is telling me to get grounded; to get my hands into the dirt and my thoughts out of the sky. More than once I have felt encouraged, even desperate, to get out of my head and using my hands has seemed the most therapeutic way. And thankfully, there has emerged an intelligence inside my body that has guided my activities in a meaningful way over the last several months.

In hindsight, the timing of my "unearthing" is no surprise. The last few months have presented me with some specific personal challenges that have strained my mental strength and coping skills. As a result, my head has been a veritable tornado of fear, fret and folly. With the strength housed in my head failing, my body wisdom took over. It guided me to Home Depot for two inch by six inch redwood planks, gardening soil and starter plants. It led me to a ceramic studio in order to shape moist pieces of earth into platters, bowls and let's face it - one hell of an ashtray. And most recently, it encouraged me to destroy three pieces of concrete to make more space for dirt. Overall, I feel the center of my power shifting out of my head and into the earth. I am getting grounded.

I find these events reflected in the words that I often say to my yoga students, "Ground down in order to grow taller." I don't know what direction my next growth spurt will take. I do have a sense, however, that with my body guiding me to create space and yet stay grounded, I will grow tall from a very stable place.

Train the Brain

Since Spring appeared in Phoenix, I have been hosting weekly yoga sessions for my friends in my back yard. During our sessions, my friends play my students and I play their teacher, and we basically play with yoga. I show them tricks that other teachers have taught me, they share with me their body experience while experimenting with these tricks and I become their student. It is an amazing exchange of personal growth and inspiration.

Yesterday, I was sitting with two of my backyard yoga friends, Darla and Labrena (names changed to protect the innocent :-) Darla made a poigniant observation about how she reacts to challenging poses and what these reactions are teaching her about herself. In a difficult asana, she feels physically uncomfortable, which leads quickly to mental discomfort. Her brain then gets involved in a sort of panic mode. What she has realized after pushing beyond this discomfort and mental panic is that by staying with the uncomfortabe sensations, she is training her mind not to panic. She is developing positive mental talk, telling herself that she can tolerate the physical discomfort without letting her mental talk exacerbate the situation.

I think Darla's mental discomfort represents fear of the unknown, fear of how her body will react if she lets herself go in the pose. Through her asana practice, Darla is finding a level of detachment from the physical body in favor of a stable internal wisdom. She has touched on the realization that we are not victims of our experiences, but rather we control our experiences with our reactions. If we panic in the face of shaking legs as we try to hold boat pose, the experience becomes negative and we likely lose our connection to our core and fall out of the pose. If we go with the flow of shaking limbs, honor our body's reaction and keep our focus on the foundation of the pose, we transcend fear and find peace an a more stable pose.

Jivamutki yoga school writes a monthly focus and this month's focus relates to my topic.

"Asana practice helps us further connect to the root of our fears because it allows us to feel the sensation of tension and tightness housed in our bodies. It also affords us the opportunity to observe our fearful reactions to certain postures and the mental and emotional discomfort they elicit. Through asana we are able to explore the edges of what is known and unknown allowing us to uncover resistance in the mind and body."

I was replaying my conversation with Darla and Labrena in my mind today as I hiked a steep but wonderfully short hill in downtown Tempe. My body was responding appropriately to the rapid elevation change: elevated heart rate, increased respiratory rate, fatigued muscles - basically very uncomfortable sensations. I tried to keep my mental talk focused on the positive, in spite of my physical discomfort. It was here that I realized the larger application of Carla's realization. So many situations represent physical and mental discomfort for us, and using our yoga lesson we can try to train our brain to not panic and instead take responsibility for our reactions.

Take illness as an example. When one is sick, the physical symptoms of the illness may overwhelm the mind. A person may become obsessed with her physical symptoms. This obsession may take over her mental talk, such that she only thinks of how uncomfortabe the illness feels in her body. This of course makes the physical symptoms worse. If she can find a detachment from her physical symptoms, and train her brain to avoid reacting to each and every body ache and pain, her experience will be less of suffering and more of growing.

Yoga is unleashing body and mind lessons for my friends. As witness to their yoga journey, I am learning yet another dimension of how yoga can transform and connect body, spirit and mind.