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.

Gym Yogis

As a yoga teacher in training, I read every assigned reading ahead of time and had parts underlined to discuss in class (those that have been in class with me are SO rolling their eyes right now...). One day we were discussing the primary objective for asana, or the physical practice of yoga. My yoga teacher's assistant, Adi, was claiming that the practice of asana was first and foremost to prepare our bodies for meditation. This concept blew my mind - I loved asana, and certainly believed that it was an end in and of itself. I searched pointedly through my assigned readings and found a passage in Light on Yoga that supported my claims. Adi was delighted at my contribution and defused my defiant attitude by thanking me for sharing.

Fast forward three years. I am teaching a class of dedicated gym yogis. In my estimation, 50% of the class comes as a replacement for some other part of their work out - e.g. as a cardio or strength training session. The other 50% come because they want to relax, stretch their bodies and feel good afterwards. As a result of my presumption, historically I have approached my gym yoga classes with the goal of combining a work out with some good stretching. This approach has attracted a solid following thus far.

The problem with my gym approach is that I now believe what Adi asserted three years ago - asana is the means to a meditative end. I still love asana - nothing breaks up my densities and massages my internal organs better than a good lateral bending, back bending, twisting practice. However, with my decision to develop a meditation practice, I now see beyond asana to the potential that lies in meditation. And I want to share that with my students.

The question - how to bring something as "fluffy" and "new agey" as meditation to a big corporate gym. The obvious answer is to disguise it!

Ha, ha - seriously though. I have learned from another gym yoga teacher that I follow how to incorporate "contemplation" and "mindful breathing" into a class. Last week I started a practice that I reinforced in class today - that of sitting quietly with eyes closed and counting how many breaths you can take before an external thought interrupts you. Once this external thought barges in, you begin your count over at 1. I have tried this myself - initially I could only take 3 breaths before a thought burst through. After an asana practice, however, I can get much higher - 10 or 12 breaths before starting over.

So I presented this practice to my class for a second time today. Before we started, I had everyone sit quietly on their mat and focus on counting their breaths. Then we did a 45 minute asana practice followed by a 5 minute shavasana. After shavasana, I had them sit for another 2 minutes and count their breaths. As I kept time for them, I looked out over my class of gym yogis. What I saw was 20 focused yogis with eyes closed, spines tall and full of light, mindfully breathing. No fidgeting, no squinting through closed lids to see their watches - just an impressive stillness. Behind them, through the studio windows, I saw heavily muscled men straining to pump iron and well groomed women "glistening" on the eliptical. This juxtaposition made my smile.

A toast to honoring what inspires you - I found a way to introduce meditation to my students. This brings integrity to my teaching. A toast also to gym yogis. And as I said in class, "The mindful breather in me salutes the mindful breather in you. Namaste."

Saying Goodbye to 2009

I was going to write my next blog about New Year's resolutions, but another more timely topic has presented itself.

In the last few months of 2009, several of my friends said goodbye to their long time companions - dog members of their family. First this Fall, Maggie, a beautiful cocker spaniel, passed away after a long fight with chronic illness. The day before Thanksgiving, 14 year-old Griffey passed on in the company of his dedicated owners. On New Year's Eve, Casey, a lovely yellow lab who lived 15 rich and active years with her human, passed away. All of these animals were important members of my friends' families, and truly extensions of their souls.

These losses have struck cords deep within my friends' spirits. As witness to my friends' grieving, I stand in wonder as to the affect dogs have on humans. As a dog person myself, I am familiar with the absolute dedication and adoration one can have for a dog. And yet I still contemplate what it is about dogs that leaves us so willingly vulnerable and giving of ourselves in ways that we may not even do with other humans. Does their "dogness" give us the green light to be unabashedly loving? Do dogs create a safe space for humans to practice being human? It's likely a combination of all these possibilities. The reason is really not important, what's important is that us "Dog People" find outlets for what we have to give in our furry four legged friends!

As we welcome in the New Year, I honor last year's loss of three much loved animals. Along these lines, I would like to share the holiday card sent by Maggie's owner. The card was authored by the dog, and in it contained a dog's wisdom:

My time on this earth has come to an end, and my last wish for you and my people is that you...
Live Simply, Love Generously; Care Deeply; and...

When a loved-one comes home, run to greet them.
Thrive on getting and giving attention.
Touch others and let others touch you.
Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.
When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
Be loyal and never pretend to be something that you're not.
If what you want is buried, dig until you find it.
If someone is having a bad day, comfort them... be quiet, sit close and nuzzle them gently.

ENJOY EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY... NOT JUST DURING THE HOLIDAYS, BUT FROM THIS DAY FORWARD.

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."