Practice Me/ Practice You ♥

Practice ... it is what I return to again and again.  As I age, I find myself gathering more and more practices around me - meditation, yoga, art making, prayers, writing.  What is obvious to me now is how life IS my practice in the sense that a commitment to  maintaining alert presence, wakefulness, non-attachment and responsiveness (versus reactivity) demands daily  - indeed minute by minute - attention, effort and commitment. 

Recognizing this truth for myself has been a source of immense liberation. Rather than believing I "ought to have it right by now" I can relax into the vastness of my self, my life, as a work-in-progress.  There is great freedom and possibility in the notion that I am ever and always evolving, growing, changing.  The important distinction is intentional growth versus hapzhard growth. I can let life shape me, but that is a passive experience.  If I am choosing to enter into the conversation of living (as David Whyte describes it) I  am also choosing to be an active agent in this process of growth and unfolding.  And that seems to me to be the more exciting and rewarding option. 

This past year illness and lingering grief challenged me to dig deeper.  Oh, I thrashed around for quite a while.  But when I finally surrendered to it all, when I accepted I felt lost and stranded, then I was ripe for being found. The work of yoga teacher and author Elena Brower has guided and inspired my moving forward. More accurately, her online mentorship program Elevate provided me with the tools and the space to draft my own map home.  Now there is her newest offering Practice You: A Journal which combines all of my favorite tools for self inquiry: creative art play, writing, dialogue and meditation. 

Tarot cards from the Anna K Tarot

In addition to her new book, there is an online offering (a second incarnation of Elevate) to help us squeeze the most out of this already juicy gift. I have worked through the first Elevate mentorship program twice (in 4 months!) and the process was deepened through conversation with a dear friend also in the course. We will be together in this second round ... but what excites me is the invitation to share this work with my yoga students and my Cowgirl. 

Flipping through the pages of  Practice You what is immediate apparent is the versatility of the journal. The prompts and the artwork inspire wildly creative and personal responses. My Girl is not much for traditional journaling (read: not at all!) but the beauty of this work is the invitation to respond in a variety of ways: collage, paint, free flow word play, mindful doodling ... I have yet to explore all the possibilities but I can sense a ripeness for the unexpected to reveal hidden treasures of insight and understanding. 

"i am" page from Practice You

Life with a newly minted teenager has brought to the surface many old and triggersome questions: what does it mean to belong? How do I see myself and my gifts? Who is in charge of my happiness, my sense of self worth? How can I learn to embrace ALL parts of myself to both heal and to honor and understand the complexity that is being a human animal in this crazy wonderful world of ours?  

Just as I am a work-in-progress, so too are my relationships. As my Girl steps into the rocky terrain of teenager, our relationship is changing.  I am grateful to Practice You as a tool to support me supporting her. I don't know if she will engage fully in the process with me, but a copy waits for when she is ready. Meanwhile, I do my work so that I can hold space mindfully and lovingly for those around me to do theirs.

When it seems like Life is throwing up roadblocks, the choice for me has been to lean upon my practice. Illness, pain, emotional challenges, spiritual darkness - each and every time these challenges have visited me, I have felt stranded and abandoned.  Yet when there seems to be no solution in sight, the only option is "keep on keeping on" which for me means: turn to my practice. 

I have a mantra that kicks in whenever I feel lost or aimless: I support my practice and my practice support me. It is my formula for living. I could also say I support my creativity and my creativity supports me. I support my work and my work supports me.  I support Love and Love supports me. Underneath it all are foundational beliefs I have had to extract from the hard rock of inherited attitudes and concepts about myself held for far too long. Here again, my practice(s) have fortified me for this ongoing excavation.  I am excited to discover how Practice You supports and deepens the vital work of Practice Me. For if I want my Girl to understand the full extent of her beauty inside and out, if I want her to explore and express the richness of her talents and gifts, I must do the same.  

pages from my Elevate notebooks

Yoga reminds me that my natural state is Wholeness and Unity; that my experience of living in this human body is a journey of healing through the process of remembering myself already whole and complete. The outcome of this journey is freedom within and connection with Life around me.  

And so, I return each day to practice ... in whatever form it may take ...  it is like a walking stick that steadies me as I make my way forward.  I do the work, but my practice keeps me upright and moving along my path. "This is how I respect myself. These are my practices." (page from Practice You)

Slipping back in ...

Oh my ... hello there ... didn't you see me oozing along the muddy path by your feet?

No? Well, I have missed you!  I didn't mean to vanish. I mean, I have been here and very much present in my corner of the garden, but I know I have been hugging the edges of things.  I didn't intend to vanish but then again, I suppose I needed to do so.

I could prattle on and on about how it was a hard winter; how grief clothes lined me and illness delivered a few sucker punches while I was down on the ground; how I thought I had made my way from the hanged man's tree only to discover I was still dangling there with yet another layer to be peeled away from my tender self.  

But here's what I came here to say:

It was a time to re-member my self and return to the practices that allow me to hold space for all that life brings to me with equanimity, curiosity and a willingness to see here is a place for growth and healing.  This aging body of mine was desperate for some tender loving care. My nervous system let me know enough is enough now. Grief turned me upside down and then back on my feet and heading towards the woods, the lake, the fields where the nurturing love of Nature reminds me I belong, that I have a voice and a story to share. But I needed to listen and be patient - not my strong suit!

I have been learning much about pacing myself.  And about staying open and in trust ... of myself and of this life to deliver the pieces of wisdom and learning that are needed for this next stretch of the journey.  

I have all my journal and sketchbooks out. I have library books piled up by the couch and a pot of tea by my side. I have letters and cards to write, relationships and connections to nurture with my attention and care.  The gift of getting older is a paring away of the inessentials and a vigorous understanding of what matters most to me. 

Where is my attention, my energy needed?  What do I want to cultivate within myself and my life?  I no longer can afford to squander my resources - which are my attention, time and energy - and so each day I make time to be quiet, to root myself in the now moment and then ask: How can I best serve love today? How can I open myself up to receiving it?

I am excited for this project which is inspiring me to understand the seemingly abstract pieces of my journey as the threads of a magnificent weaving of my own healing wisdom story.

I would love to see and hear about yours.  

To learn more about the community I will be building with Kristina Wingeier and April McMurtry, you can register to join our free call which is happening monday, may 22 at noon PDT.  If you can't make the call, a link to the recording will be sent to all who have registered. You can register HERE.
 

* Simplicity *

Simplicity is my intention for 2017 ... along with Devotion (ah, yielding to the Gemini rising in my natal chart ... gotta have two intentions!)  I excel at overthinking, over complicating matters so Simplicity will be a real practice for me. It is already helping me find a path back in after a tumble down the hillside of illness and emotional exhaustion.

Lacking any sophisticated, clever or inspired account of the past month or so, I realize Simplicity tells me to just show up and begin again. Here's my story du jour: I thought I had injured my back and thankfully, that wasn't the case. (I worried I would no longer be able to volunteer with mucking out stalls, turning out horses - the one job I always look forward to!) What I had was a case of the shingles thankfully with no rash, just weird sensations and occasional flashes of intense and random pain. (At times it felt like I had an alien inside my body attacking my back or stomach muscles.) Still, the virus along with polar bear chilling temperatures, have kept me house bound for weeks. 

Weeks at home with only the dog and my loopy aunt of a mind to keep me company. 

Weeks to ponder my itchy navel. (Right side only)

Weeks  shuffling about the house in the one pair of comfy, loose-fitting and warm pants that I own ... weeks wearing oversized underwear of my husband's (who knew?! Men's underwear is infinitely more comfortable! No leg elastic! All cotton, no miracle fabric that tries to mold or cling to my delicate parts ... and no, I flatly refuse what my husband oh-so-gently tried to suggest to me: that perhaps I have been wearing a size too small of my lady-panties. Hogwash!)  A slippery slope for sure. The prevailing mood: Meh and What's the point?

I have no agenda. I have no plans, no real ambitions. This entire past year I have felt like the Hanged Man in the Tarot ... swinging and dangling and wondering when will I be cut down? After frustration, after despair, after confusion and resistance ... yup ... surrender. A slow but steady shedding of the layers of identity that I believed were necessary to bring meaning to my existence, to who I believe I am meant to be.

Lying in bed at 3 am, the virus attacking my back, waiting for a pain pill to kick in, with Mad Men on Netflix keeping me company ... it was a strange kind of rebirthing experience. (I felt squeezed by life in a not-so-loving way) My body, living, current events  (the world ruled it seems by upside thinking and pretzel logic) have me redefining how I want to be living each day.  "You've got to find what matters most to you." This was the advice given to the writer/doctor Paul Kalanithi after receiving a diagnosis of stage IV lung cancer. (When Breath Becomes Air is his beautiful and thought provoking memoir, published after his death)

Apparently, birds matter a lot to me. Interesting experiment: leave lots of pictures on your camera and months later, download them. I had 78 pictures of birds taken from my back window. (A discovery which means I am more my father's daughter than I have allowed myself to believe ... as inheritor of his boxes of seagull slides, the relationship is hard to miss)

These past weeks I have leaned upon what matters to me:  
- my yoga practice (choosing again The Simple: basic poses, breath practices that enliven and refresh my body and mind; complex postures are not better, merely complex) 
- creative practice (learning, playing, observing, pushing myself to develop and grow by taking a drawing class online; immersing myself in the basics of line, tone, color theory and learning about my tools and technique)
- time simply spend connecting with family and friends

Rather than fixating on making something of my life, I am focused upon the simple act of living it. Or at least observing it when weather and illness prevent me from a more active existence.

  

Having fun certainly (there has been much binge watching of Six Feet Under, Mad Men, X-Files, Vera - all in the service of knitting time, of course!) but in turn, my chance to squeeze life back. 

Simply put: to be fiercely disciplined with myself about how I show up in my life: how I speak, what I do, what I think and where I place my energy and attention. And when I catch myself stepping off track, I simply step back on path.  

 

yielding to the darkness ...

Even though I know the short days of December will be hard, I am always caught off guard. I must want to forget how deeply the low amounts of sun light affect me. Yet the darkness of December while a challenge to my energy and mood, offers much in the way of insight and healing.

This year in addition to our advent calendar, I am marking the days with an email offering from this writer (courtesy of another kindred writer/friend). I usually don't do all that well with the discipline of opening and reading lengthy emails, especially when the bulk of my email time is spent deleting the surge of advertising emails I really ought to unsubscribe to, but the power of delete is rather a heady one for me and about all the energy I can muster these days.  Nevertheless,  I have been enjoying the coziness of this offering, usually coming to yea olde laptop (it's true! my lap top is OLDE) with a cuppa something warm and nourishing. I love the musings and the tasty tidbits offered.

One post has inspired me to ponder the gifts of darkness. Add to the seasonal challenges, I strained my back right before Thanksgiving and have had to buckle down when it comes to self care. (I had been joking that self care in menopause is no longer an option, but a necessity. Well, go figure my body would call me on this by DEMANDING I honor my words.) It dawned on me today that in our modern 24/7 world with lights galore, we have become incapacitated when it comes to living in darkness. The same is true in regards to silence and stillness. 

Yet the cycles of Nature offer many opportunities to move into the dark. The moon each month goes dark when she is beginning a new cycle. From the Autumn Equinox to the Winter Solstice the days grow shorter, the period of sunlight lessens. The angle of the sun in the sky is softened as well. Our human lights block out the light of the stars, isolating us further from the experience of connection and an enhanced perspective upon our place in creation. 

So I hurt my back. And the hardest part of my day? Nighttime. It was impossible to find a comfortable sleeping position. I would finally fall asleep only to wake up whenever I shifted my body in the bed. The only relief I could experience was lying on my yoga mat, breathing and stretching my body gently and mindfully.  The pain would subside. Heaven, right? Well, for one week solid I would cry the entire time I stretched. Not movie tears that soften a face with a gentle dew. No, my crying was body convulsing sobs and geysers where my eyes should be. Red faced and snotty, I moved through the stretches.  

Anna K Tarot - The lesson of the Hanged Man for me has been finding within the bright light of The Star

I have lots of ideas as to why the overdue emotional release. Yes, I have blamed current events and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But staying in the depths of the emotional pool, I discovered vast pockets of sorrow, loss, grief and fear. Nothing all that unexpected at this stage of my life. I've said goodbye to many loved ones and watched our world change drastically (from my perspective as a "Nineteener" - what Cowgirl calls me in reference to my having lived a chunk of my life in the previous century). There is a lot to process. Making the time to do so, that's another matter. 

Darkness, like my back pain, forces me to look inward for my own source of light and relief. The shorter days (or time of day with daylight) remind me to lighten my load, to pare down the to-do list to that which sustains and enlivens me.  My bottom line is my practices - yoga, meditation, drawing and painting -  time in nature and family time.  All of these pieces nurture connection and rootedness.  They ease me out of fear and pain (funny, when I draw or paint, my back no longer hurts), and bring me back to a place of Hope. There is much to worry about but there is also much to celebrate. Drawing upon the bounty within me - my heart and my life - I am strengthening myself for the new year and the new challenges ahead. 

I have chosen my intention for the coming year: Simplicity and Devotion. 

lessons on fishing (and time) ...

[F]or me, philosophically, stress is a perverted relationship to time. So that rather than being a subject of your own time, you have become its target and victim, and time has become routine. So at the end of the day, you probably haven't had a true moment for yourself. And you know, to relax in and to just be. 

- John O'Donohue, interview in On Being (transcript here)

The first time I heard those words, I had to stop what I was doing (yes, multitasking), sit down, rewind (so-to-speak) the audio and listen closely.

[O]ne of the huge difficulties in modern life is the way time has become the enemy. (John O'Donohue)

I believe I have been shadow boxing Time for much of my adult life.  It's a slippery eel; the more I try to extract myself from a sense of being caught up in the net of time  -- rushing, running late, arriving breathless, wringing my hands at all I have to pack into one slim suitcase of time -- the more entangled I become.

To be conscious is not to be in time ... (T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton) 

I totally agree with Eliot ...  but how to live in this modern world of school bus schedules, trash days, tax days, monthly bills and all AND to live in what an art teacher of mine once referred to as Medieval Time (absorbed, suspended within and outside of Time)?

Only through time time is conquered. (T.S. Eliot)

I'm not sure I want to conquer time so much as befriend it? It dawned on me that my frantic relationship with Time is part of a larger and deeply rooted anxiety. "Not enough-ness." It isn't so much Time fudging around with me as much as modern society perverting Time by turning it into a commodity. What is my time worth? You are wasting my time!  Words I've even heard my Girl parrot (from whom? Gulp.) 

I don't want Time as an enemy. I want to understand its deeper magic, the alchemical potential hinted at by O'Donohue when he writes "Possibility is the secret heart of time. On its outer surface time is vulnerable to transience. In its deeper heart, time is transfiguration." (Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom)

This student is more than ready ... and finally (it's about time?!) my teacher stepped forward:

Or rather, she perched forward.

For the past few weeks I have gone to the park for a walk and discovered Heron on the edges of the shore fishing.  The immediate lesson Great Blue Heron offers is that of patience. If you want to see Heron doing anything other than standing still like a avian manikin, you had better be prepared to wait. And watch. Abandon any notion of a quick walk and surrender to becoming like Heron by standing still. Looking  and waiting. 

Would say there is a fair helping of trust involved except doubt probably never enters into the heron's mind.  Now, I find myself doubting often ... getting antsy with the suspension of my walk (wasting my time?) but there is that delicious moment when an inner stubbornness wins and with a sigh I adjust my posture and settle in for the wait.

So far, I've always been rewarded.

Or rather, Heron is always rewarded for her patience, her commitment, her deep knowing This Is What I Do.  

Watching her the other day, I realized I often bemoan "Why is it taking me so long?"  The It varies - my understanding, my knowing, mastery of a skill, completion of a project or process, my finding My Way, flashing upon My Purpose - the list is long but the vibe is always that of me out of sync with some mythical timeline. I ought to be further along. I ought to have this all figured out by now.

Yeah. Right-o. 

It struck me that when I am fully absorbed and committed ... like Heron, focused upon the water that will surely yield a fish later or sooner ... I am suspended within the flow of time but not constricted by it. When I tantrum and feel the squeeze of Time -- this is taking me too long! -- then I am not fully in. I am distracting myself. I am turning outward when the call is to go in. Time  - or a fixation upon time and time keeping - is my means of side-stepping the depth diving. I don't have the time and it is taking too long.

So maybe, just maybe my frustration with time is a clue that I hiding out on the surface of time, swinging on the clock face when in fact time offers me a portal to dive deeper within. 

I know Heron's deeper teaching will be both a lesson and a surrender to time. Showing up, abiding, paying close attention, and most of all knowing when to act ...

and knowing when to stay in stillness.