My Body, My Classroom

How many of us relate directly and solely to our bodies. When you think about who you are, what do you think? "I am fat" or "I am thin..."; "I am out of shape" or "I am in great shape"; "I am healthy" or "I am sick." I guarantee that whatever definition you have of yourself, it involves something related to your body.

As I was falling asleep last night, I had a totally random thought, "My body is teaching me lessons." Since I am not prone to profound thoughts, this idea woke me right up! As I pondered it, several teachers appeared in my mind. First was Leslie, my mind-body guru. She is always trying to teach me not to identify with my body. She believes that our soul, or our essence, is merely housed within our body and is not defined or confined by it. She believes that our goal is to stay grounded within our true selves, where we will not be rattled by changes in our physical or emotional bodies.

Then appeared my mentor at work, a meditating physician who also stresses the importance of not identifying with things that change. He believes that since our bodies are always changing, growing older and ultimately dying, we should not identify with them because this will bring suffering. As humans, we often latch onto definitions of ourselves that are merely illusions. For example, "I am my body," or "I am my thoughts." Once we feel as though we are solidly defined by these labels, our bodies change or our thoughts change. And then we are left with an unstable idea of ourselves or an utter void. Without a clear definiton of who we are, we struggle. This is my work mentor's point - bad idea!

Both of these ideas remind me of what I wrote last week - my yoga teacher's reference to the "Projects in our Bodies" that teach us lessons. Woven through the theories of these three mentors is the idea that we should obtain a level of detachment from our bodies in order to have a clearer perspective on our lives.

As is typical with profound thoughts, the idea made perfect sense as it surfaced last night. I knew it with my whole consciousness, albeit with a falling asleep type of awareness. As I woke this morning and rushed to start my day, the idea was less tangible and tonight I continue to ponder it.

So my body is teaching me lessons, right? Imagine if the universe sets us up with our own personal classroom - our body. All of the physical, emotional and mental experiences are meant to teach us about our true path and our intimate connection with others. These experiences are not who we are, but rather lessons that take place for the purpose of our observation and interpretation.

If we are not our physical, emotional and mental experiences, then who are we? My gurus would have me believe that I am merely a witness to all of these experiences. I am a stable, unchangeable entity, or a wrinkle in the collective consciousness with a unique interaction with the universe by virtue of how my body, e.g. my classroom, interacts with its environment. The lessons are not unique, but the way that I arrive at them is very unique because it is my own journey.

This is somewhat comforting as I have always been a vicarious learner. I do not learn well by being told what to expect. In order to truly feel the truth about something, I usually have to experience it for myself. For better or for worse, my knowledge comes from a direct interaction with the universe. My lessons are usually hard earned, and yet once understood they are deeply ingrained.

Maybe someday soon I will end my pursuit of happiness as it relates directly to my body. Maybe I will identify more with the observer than the observee. Maybe my sitting sessions will connect me real time with the witness, and allow me to sit back and appreciate the lessons as they play out in front of me, rather than suffering real time and understanding the lessons in hind sight.

The Projects that Inhabit our Bodies

I went to a yoga class this week with a teacher who calls us, her students, "Beautiful Lotus Flowers" and "Yoga Warriors". I love her spunk and I adore her perspective. The sequence was themed with the idea of listening to your body. She addressed the various health issues that each of us bring with us to class, and called them "Guests" and "Projects" in our bodies. When we would take a certain pose, she would say, "What are the Projects in your body telling you in Warrior two?" - meaning, "Is your chronic knee pain screaming at you to stop doing this pose??" Or she would suggest "Do you need to comfort your Guest in this pose - maybe bring it a blanket to rest on?" - meaning, "Are you making your chronic knee pain worse by ignoring it - how about changing the way you do the pose to comfort your pain instead!"

My inner circle of kindred spirits is comprised of women and men in their 20s, 30s and 40s, all in the prime of their lives. In spite of our youth :-) and overall excellent health, most of us have personally encountered some sort of medical issue - joint or muscle injuries, endocrine disorders, cancer, asthma, digestive problems. In discussions with my friends about their medical experiences, I have learned that there is nothing like a medical issue during an otherwise healthy time in ones life to completely shake his or her confidence! I have also learned that these medical experiences have added an invaluable perspective in their lives that challenged them to clarify their priorities and helped them be kinder to themselves.

As I reflect on my own unique medical problem, the one year anniversary of which just passed last month, I can truly relate to my friends' experiences. Last January, my thyroid began acting up and over the course of twelve months, went from hyperactive to normal and now to underactive. These days, it is perfectly on the mend, and whatever is still healing is well treated with medication. In other words, it really does not affect my life anymore. However, I apparently still carry around some of the emotional baggage related to the incident. Just last week I caught a nasty virus and developed a bad sore throat and painful swollen lymph nodes. I began worrying incessantly to myself, "What if this is my thyroid acting up again?!" I would find myself compulsively reaching up to my neck, feeling for my thyroid, making sure it wasn't tender or enlarged.

These compulsive thoughts and gestures began driving me crazy. I finally forced myself to repeat, everytime these worries surfaced, "If it's my thyroid going haywire again, I will deal with it. I survived the first time, I will survive the second. And likely with more quiet dignity and grace!"

This is why my yoga teacher's message resonated. My thyroid is a Project in my body, forcing me to avoid unnecessary worry and have faith in my own ability to handle whatever comes my way. What a great Project outcome! Would I go so far as to say I am thankful for the Project? The answer is absolutely.

Now on to my next project! I think my hamstrings are dying to teach me a thing or two!