Written Christmas day 2011: A seemingly unintentional awareness of dynamic movement has taken root in my yoga practice over the last few months. I am suddenly hyperaware of how well I transition between poses.  The sun salutation is an excellent example of this.  As I fold forward from tadasana (mountain pose) into uttanasana (standing forward bend), I keep my arms extended alongside my ears to maintain a fully extended spine.  As I place my hands on the mat before stepping back into plank, I mindfully space them wider than has been my habit, trying to assimilate an adjustment made frequently by my teachers.  When I step forward from adho mukha svanasana (downward dog) into Virabadrasana (warrior) One, I try to integrate my foot with my core, making it a strong yet smooth step forward.   I know each end point like the back of my hand - I can do plank, downward dog and warrior one without much difficulty.  So why focus on the actual movement into each of these familiar postures?  I think that my body has learned that if it moves with integrity, it lands in a place that is more likely to be safe, healthy and vibrant - in other words, a much more beautiful end point. It wasn't until recently that I realized why these mindful transitions have become my priority.  Transition has been my status quo since September.  I have been living in a state of flux since then.  Moving out of my house and in with friends, finishing up my commitments in Phoenix and waiting for my life in Denver to begin, my current situation looks nothing like the life I had or have waiting for me.  I have tried to live this transition with integrity, stepping forward from the stable place that I knew so well into this less certain and familiar place with strength and flow.  I hoped to take with me the healthy habits I had developed into my time of transition, so that I would arrive on the other side safe, healthy and vibrant. The problem with mindful transitions is that remaining in this place for too long causes fatigue.  Towards the end of my yoga practice, laziness can seep in and inevitably my spine rounds and my core sags.  The integrity that marked the beginning of my practice is relaxed out of exhaustion.  Guilt builds over not maintaining it, but somewhere in my mind I start making excuses to justify my mediocre performance.   I am sad and disappointed to report that my life transition has arrived at this point of fatigue.  I am tired of not having a space, outside of my car and my suitcase, that is all mine, and only mine.  The healthy habits that refueled me in the earlier months of this fluctuating time have all but disappeared.  My body is physically spent and I have no motivation to engage in those activities that previously provided me with a sense of balance.  I fear I may have lost what I defined as integrity in making this move. Even now, as I lament over this pitiful realization, I try to find the silver lining in this storm cloud of disappointment.  What I notice is that although I did not use the tools I expected to use, I did in fact develop some new mindful habits that have served me well.  I did find a new perspective on how to maintain peace of mind in an unstable place.  I began allowing myself to feel angry, sad or frustrated, while not acting on these feelings.  I maintained a dedication to calmness by giving myself space to feel all manner of emotions, but trying not to transfer these feelings into actions that would propagate these feelings, or give these feelings a life of their own.  I learned that if I kept a negative feeling a feeling, and not a behavior, that my feeling would often lose intensity or disappear with time.  If I let a negative feeling become a negative behavior, I almost always regretted the outcome.   In addition, I have developed a keen sense of what I need to get by in this world and this list of material possessions continues to shrink.  I learned that if I can cook for myself this keeps me grounded.  As a result, wherever I was living, I took up more pantry space than closet space.  And I have learned to trust myself, the decisions that I make and my ability to turn these decisions into a meaningful reality.  Even though I am depleted in many ways, my faith in myself has never truly faltered - it may have tremored a bit here and there, but I managed to keep these feelings in perspective and give myself space to define this transition as it unfolded.  

Couch Surfing - Stability in an Unstable Place

I have made my bed and now I can’t sleep! I am in the midst of major transition. I am no stranger to this. Since last fall, I have been on a journey. Initially it was a journey inwards and I worked hard to create an environment that would support this work. I rented a house close to my job, created a yoga room and planted a garden. I filled the house with friends, but also spent a lot of time alone. I did yoga, sat in silence, read, played with my dog, watched movies, cooked, baked, and drank wine. I felt happy and sad, small and expansive, afraid and brave. Many times during this journey, I found peace. Peace in a stable place that I had created for myself.

The lease on my peace was up a few months ago, literally. The owner of my rental house wanted to move back in. She wanted her share of the peace back. And since I am changing states at the end of this year, I decided not to rent another house but to “couch surf” as I have so flippantly named this way of life. Spring boarding from my peaceful place, I felt confident that I could tolerate an unstable existence for a mere four months. I have lots of good friends who will keep me grounded. I have a good job, great hobbies and a free spirit. I can be rootless for a while.

So I put my dog into foster care (e.g. moved him in with some willing and wonderful friends), put my stuff in storage and started to couch hop. First a two month house sitting gig. Now I am living in the spare bedroom of yet another willing and wonderful friend. Logistically, it is working out splendidly.

And yet, I am feeling my grip on peace, stability and groundedness slipping. For whatever reason, I am not tolerating the uprootedness. My yoga practice has slipped, my diet is undisciplined. I am not exercising. And I am whining about not having a home to anyone that will listen. Physically I feel awful. I am a tense, shallow breathing, bloated whiner.

So where to from here? Take my own advice, right. Refer back to my list of sattvic activities. Practice what I preach to my friends and family. Find groundedness in myself, not in the location where I reside.

What keeps me grounded? In a word (okay, phrase…) – heart connection. A heart connection with my body, my friends, my mom, my sister, my work, my own mind. Writing gives me a heart connection to my body and mind, as does sitting in silence, doing yoga, exercising and eating right. Phone calls, emails, lunches, brunches, happy hours and couch time reminds me of the heart connection I have with my family and friends. Walking into a patient room, taking a seat at their bedside, smiling and lovingly addressing their concerns over their own health, plugs me into the heart connecting potential at work. Planting my feet on my yoga mat and my butt on my meditation cushion strengthens my connection to body and mind. Cerebrally I know how to get grounded. The key is in doing it!!!!!

Bringing Balance

According to Ayurveda, the medical science related to yoga, there are three natures that act on and affect our minds - rajas, tamas and sattva. Rajas means activity, that constantly moving state of mind. Too much rajas creates an imbalance in our lives, and people ruled by rajas are chaotic, crave change and are averse to stability. Tamas, on the other hand, is the heaviness of inactivity. People overcome by tamas are dull, unmotivated and dark. Fortunately for us, sattva is the nature of balance. Sattva is a light, harmonious and virtuous nature. Sattva balances activity and rest, and brings us to a place of clarity and peace. In other words, sattva is a good thing!

Whenever I read about rajas, I can clearly recall times in my life when I have been on fire with activity - moving here, moving there, busy as a bee, never sitting still. While these were exhilirating moments, the pace always burned me out, very quickly leaving me irritable and depleted. My tamasic days also stick out - lazy, dull days which usually include the television, a bottle of wine and chocolate. My sattvic moments are altogether different. These are times when I feel plugged in to the flow of life. My heart feels expansive, my mind is alert but calm, and my outlook is light. I laugh out loud when I am by myself and easily interact with others. I feel a balance between rest and activity, work and play, alone time and time with those I love. This is where I want to live my life - in Sattvic Land!

I recently came across a list of ways to increase the sattva in one's life. This list was part of the book, "Essential Ayurveda" - by far the best Ayurveda book I have ever read. Included in this list are simple, very practical steps that can be incorporated into the way one lives her life. I recognize in this list the wisdom that the way to a happy life is not the more complicated route, but rather a return to the simple path. It's the coming home to what we already know to be true, but have forgotten. It is not the, "If I do this, then maybe I will feel happy," but rather the, "This makes me feel happy so I am going to do it."

Anyway, here's the list, exactly as it is written in Essential Ayurveda:

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1. Indulge in activities that bring you pleasure. When the mind is happy in itself, it wants to spread that joy among others.

2. Conversely, do not indulge in activities that build up toxic thoughts and feelings. Don't watch violent movies or read crime fiction in excess. Don't harbor a grudge.

3. Take time to do a good deed: make a child smile, spend time with an aged person, plant hope in an unhappy heart.

4. Take a balanced approach to your relationships; love but don't nag or cling. Give without expecting in return.

5. Treat yourself gently. Don't set yourself impossible deadlines and goals. Remember, when you look at life through the glasses of materialism, you don't get the true picture.

6. Let there be moderation in every aspect of your life, be it diet, sleep, exercise, sex, work or ambition.

These habits are not cultivated overnight. But if you are mindful of their sattva-enhancing value, you can make positive changes in your day to day behavior.
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I like this list because it addresses the priorities in my life. First and foremost - be in a good place personally. When thinking of what brings me pleasure, I admit that making my bed, using my electric toothbrush and spending time in my garden bring my great pleasure. Likewise, taking time to see my best friends, walk my dog and meditate also brings my amazing joy. If I take time to do the things that truly bring me pleasure, then I start from a place of gratitude and happiness in life.

Second, if I am mindful of what actitivities don't serve me, I can focus on those that do. For example, too much time on the internet saps me of motivation. Nights spent on the couch watching TV do the same. Sitting around worrying is a favorite self sabotaging past time that I try to avoid!

Next, every time I am at work, I have the opportunity to do every one of the good deeds that she mentions. I can make a sick child smile, spend a little extra time with my elderly patients who live alone and crave human contact, and I can reassure a chronically ill patient that they are not alone in dealing with their illness. I am so lucky to be able to do this a dozen times during every work day!

Of course, the author addresses relationships - both with others and with ourselves - and encourages moderation in all activities.

The list ends with the reassuring idea that change does not happen overnight, which made me laugh. I always try to make too many changes at once - blame my imbalanced rajas - and usually become overwhelmed with my inevitable failures. This book gave me permission to go slow in my assimilation of these ideas.

I want to end this post with a challenge to my friends. Pick one of the six items on the sattva list and make it your focus for a month. Write it in dry erase marker on your bathroom mirror, put a post it with this concept over your speedometer ... okay, maybe over your oil gauge! Put it on your cell phone or desk top home screen - whatever you need to do to be reminded of your sattvic goal for the month, do it! Take note of what this practice does for your state of mind. Be a living experiment of the most honorable kind and share the goodness that follows!

Love to you all!

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!

No Longer at Arm's Length

I have never shared quite the detail that I am going to share today, so be prepared! I recently split from the man with whom I spent the last ten years. Each day that passes since our separation, another realization hits me as to the life I had become accustomed to in our relationship. I will say that we parted on good terms, and whatever I share is not meant to attack his character. We simply chose to approach life in different ways, and ultimately I had to leave in order to fully express myself.

One realization came today, as I reached for my yoga teacher's hand in a gesture of gratitude. I had just shared with her my decision to start a new life as a single woman. She accepted this information with grace and reassurance, and congratulated me on my decision. As I left class, it occurred to me that reaching out for her hand would have been very uncharacteristic just 3 months ago, before my separation. Prior to this, I was with a man who did not believe in hand holding. He declared this preference early on in our life together. Obviously hand holding is a simple act of connection, and initially, I did not see the implications of never including it in our interaction. But as the years wore on, and my partner's dedication to his decision never to hold my hand solidified, the lack of hand holding became a central issue. The reason being, my natural instinct many times was to reach out and feel for him at my side. His natural reaction was to draw away from my touch.

As one would expect, I eventually stopped reaching out for him at all. I resisted my natural impulse to do so in order to avoid feeling rejected. The real tragedy in this is that holding back with him spilled over into other relationships. I have always been a big hugger, but other touch did not come quite so easily. Risking awkwardness or rejection when reaching out to my friends hindered an expression of my love for them. I had lost a degree of my self confidence, that inner wisdom that knows when it is essential to reach for others.

As a result, I had to find other ways to relay this, and as a result I focused on verbal communication and outright dedication to them in other ways, and luckily they responded. Even though I had found a viable substitute, so many circumstances presented important opportunities for reaching out - a friend in need of comfort, a mother in need of reassurance, a child in need of support. Holding someone's hand is such an act of intimacy, and even though I longed for it, I had stopped placing myself in that position of vulnerability.

Leaving my ten year relationship has led to an interesting phenomenon - an involuntary blossoming of many aspects of my personality not previously expressed. Removing the man who refused my affectionate advances from the center of my life has allowed a vacuum to open up, and what has rushed in to fill it are amazing friends that I am unabashedly reaching for. Parts of myself that were damned up for so long continue to come rushing forth, into the loving arms of friends and family. It is such a pleasure to feel myself reaching for people again, no longer keeping anyone at arm's distance away.

Lessons from a Fallen Hero

I just got home from a funeral. I wanted to capture the array of emotions that went through my mind during the service.

I did not personally know the man who was being laid to rest. I work with his wife in the ER, and had seen him with their two boys visiting her at work a time or two. I knew a little about their life together - he was a police officer, both of them met while in the military. His wife is an amazing women - a talented nurse, a grounded friend, a caring mother. After the service today, I learned that her husband was no less inspiring in his own right, and is truly a Fallen Hero.

His life, as painted by the many speakers at his service today, had multiple inspiring themes. He was an undercover detective killed in the line of duty, fighting narcotic trafficking in the Phoenix area. He was also a former Marine who held his family, his health and his duty to the community in the highest of regards. Let me share what I took away from the service, as an outsider to his life.

- Live joyfully. In spite of his serious and tough roles as a Marine and later a Police Officer, the man laid to rest lived joyfully. He truly loved his wife, his boys and his comrades. Over and over, speakers referred to his humor, his joy and his true affection for all things in his life.

- Hold nothing back. Give everything of yourself to those that you love. The man laid to rest today was obviously affectionate towards all who encountered him - his partner remarked that he would even laugh with those they had just arrested. No one today seemed unsure of the love the Fallen Hero had felt for them. He certainly knew that one can be a man and still show the depths of the love that he feels for others.

- Don't be reckless. This man took his health seriously, working out everyday. He took his mind seriously, as he was an avid reader and a hungry learner. He took his family seriously - the slide show playing before the service showed photo after photo of him volunteering at his sons schools, flying kites with his sons, traveling with his sons, and in general participating in their lives. He also took his relationship with his wife seriously - showing pride in her professional accomplishments, talking about her all the time to his friends and colleagues. His love for the fabric of his life was very apparent. And in spite of chosing the riskiest of all professions, or maybe because of this fact, he was not reckless with the time he had outside of work. He participated fully in his life, and for this reason will be missed that much more.

During the service, I wanted to gather my friends close and tell them how much I love them. Since most of you reading right now are my friends, I want to reinforce the positive impact that you each have on my life. I hope that this is not the first time you are hearing this from me! I also want to remind you to protect yourselves, to take care of your bodies and mind. Don't be reckless with this limited amount of time that we may have together. Live joyfully - surround yourself with positive people who make you feel good, and allow you to love them and share yourself with them. And then pop in on those who don't make it so easy to share or love them, and continue to try. Hold nothing back - always share yourself with others - you are beautiful and others are lucky to have this glimpse! Know that because you have shared yourself with me, I am a stronger, deeper and better women.