Vital Self Care

 "We are matter, kindred with ocean and tree and sky. We are flesh and blood and bone. To sink into that is a relief, a homecoming." (Krista Tippett, Becoming Wise: An Inquiry into the Mystery and Art of Living)

There is a common blessing offered at the end of a yoga practice: with hands together at the level of the heart, drop the chin to the chest, and bow in remembrance that the greatest teacher of them all, is the teacher within.  This gesture is a reminder that the wisdom gained through our hearts -through the challenges of living and loving - offer the deepest lessons and opportunities for self growth. 

Often the more subtle messages from the heart are translated through the body. We are familiar with the ways stress is transferred to tight neck or shoulders, or how anxiety often manifests in stomach distress or a sense of constricted breathing.  Through yoga practice - specifically the practice of postures or asanas - I have felt the sudden and intense release of physical/emotional traumas stored for years in my body.  Once, while dropping my head back into a back bending posture, I was suddenly gripped by a crying spasm shocking both myself and classmates stretched out upon their sticky mats.  My body was releasing a charge of intense fear, anger and loss lodged in the muscles and tissues of the upper spine as a result of a broken neck I sustained 8 years prior to that moment. I wasn't aware I had been holding on to all those repressed emotions until that moment of release.  But afterwards I felt my being shift into a new spaciousness and ease. 

More recently an illness brought about sensations of immense discomfort to my right lower back and hip. Gentle yoga postures brought about the only relief.  Returning to my asana practice after a long lapse, I could feel the neglect of my body through crazy tight muscles and restricted movement.  The simplest of poses elicited moans and groans of pleasure finding its way through stagnation and pain. My body quickly showed me the results of my neglect, but that was not the full story.  For a good month or so I would lie down on my mat to practice, shifting into a seemingly gentle posture, and then a tsunami of tears would rush through me.   Day after day this happened.  A part of me would be off to the side, witnessing this curious event.  This again? More tears?  

Baffled, I nonetheless continued with my practice.  Obviously something was ready and needing to be released.  What I gradually understood was that grief - gathered over the years, starting 10 years ago with the passing of my father -  had been steadily stored away in my body. And what's more, the unexpressed or acknowledged emotions were most likely the source of my body opening to an illness that would provoke me into facing these energies of loss, sadness, fear and regret.  

We can see the body as a burden (a perspective deeply entrenched in certain spiritual traditions) or we can forge a relationship with it rooted in the belief that we are, as Martha Beck has shared,  "Spirit awake to itself in Matter." The body as teacher, guide, best friend supporting a full and engaged  - an embodied - relationship to life and living.

"... the real practice is living your life as if it really mattered from moment to moment. The real practice is life itself." (Jon Kabat-Zinn in Becoming Wise)

This is the work I am immersed in; this is the work I love to share.  As part of my healing and embodied living - my daily prayer in heart, bones and soul - I work with yoga practices and teachings and yoga therapy which is rooted in the belief that we are already whole and our body is always moving towards healing and a re-membered wholeness. Or as Matthew Sanford shares " Your body, for as long as it possibly can, will be faithful to living. That's what it does." (Matthew Sanford in  Becoming Wise) 

There are so many simple practices and tools to support a nurturing relationship with one's body and in turn, an empowered sense of health and wellness.  Yoga, meditation, breathing practices are where I began but I have also found being in nature and creativity are core elements of my self care practice. More recently, I have found working with certified pure, therapeutic grade essential oils have augmented and bolstered all these practices. The oils have supported physical and emotional wellness in ways I am still surprised and delighted to uncover.  The greatest gift is how they fortify a sensitivity to intuition, allowing me to receive the guidance from my inner teacher who knows me to be already whole.  

The oils - gifts from the Nature  - magnify and quickly reconnect me to a wealth of inner resources. While the oils work on a physical level, I interested in how their aromatic qualities impact us emotionally through a direct connection to the limbic region of the brain. This means I can use the aromatic properties essential oils to impact and manage mood and motivation. Total wellness for me encompasses both physical and emotional health and in fact, the two are linked. When mood, stress, and emotions are acknowledged and addressed, the overall impact is vitality, resilience and an ability to manage the difficulties life presents whether it be physical, emotional or energetic. 

Right now many of us are suffering from dis-ease: the dis-ease of overwhelm, over-stimulation, over-scheduling and over-exposure to name a few. Conversely, there is dis-connection: with the natural world, community and our own selves. It can seem daunting to even begin to unravel all the confusion and dis-comforts and dis-ease. But I can tell you it is vital not only for one's well-being, but for the well-being of our world. Self care is is a revolutionary act in the sense that knowing we must tend to our total wellness, we are inspired to extend that care out into all of our relationships which includes how we interact with this planet, our home and source for life and health.

If what I shared rings true for you, I would love to connect. I will be offering limited spots for working with me to develop a self care practice that draws upon all these elements: yoga,mindfulness, creativity, self reflection, emotional wellness, and essential oils. Leave me a message with a way to contact you and we can schedule a free 45 minute consultation (via Skype or phone) to explore the possibilities of working together (discounted pricing as I beta test my ideas) and in that session receive some ideas on how you might begin a potent and personalize self care routine.

'tis the season (& don't let the turkeys get you down)

 I couldn't resist ...

Actually, I am always excited to see turkey.  He comes around a lot when I am with Cowgirl and his presence reminds me abundance is always afoot.

Still, as the calendar pages flip over to a new season I remember: transitions are always dicey.  Stepping off a stable dock and into a wobbly boat, usually there is someone ready to assist with a steadying hand. How then to step out of winter's inertia and into the energy of Spring without slipping or falling?  What steadies me?

Even thought it is still March, I find myself reciting the opening lines to T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land":

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.

There is something challenging in the promise of Spring finding its foundation in the death and decay of Winter. I remember according to Ayurveda the three qualities - the Gunas -  that describe all of existence: tamas (inertia, darkness, impurity), rajas (energy, action, change, movement) and sattva (balance, unity, purity). These principles also describe the cycles of creation, preservation (living), and destruction that are in constant motion even though we prefer not to dwell on the fact that the only certainty in life is that things - ourselves included - will change, will never stay the same.

I catch myself thinking that death seems to be winning.  So many around me have been touched by loss in recent months.  Just this week a neighbor went to the hospital and it is unlikely that he will be returning home. Yet this is the way of life: birth, living, then death. The cycle isn't amplifying so much as I am noticing it more. 

Winter is tamas: the time of rest, decay, the natural conclusion to all that growth and activity of the previous seasons. When the time comes, when Spring arrives, it brings with it energy - heat, sun, light - to awaken the earth and to start the cycle of living/growing once again. So too I must reinvigorate myself. I must generate within myself some heat, some energy and coming out of a dark phase, this is always clunky, always challenging.

Thankfully, I have a few go-to moves that I've collected over the years.  Actions that help jump-start my day and in turn my inner engine so that I find myself moving in the direction of wholeness, happiness, joyful action transforming into joyful being.

It's really ridiculously simple.  I attend to the clutter. I find an rhythm to my day. Tidying up the morning breakfast, feeding the dog, then heading upstairs where I toss a load of laundry into the wash. There is  something about tackling the ever-present piles of dirty clothes that acts as a reset button.  It is my feeble nod towards productivity. I may get little else done, but there will be some clean clothes by the end of the day. I then hop in the shower and after I have bathed and dressed, I go through the house opening up all of the blinds, letting in the morning light.

Spring cleaning ... it makes total sense.  Before new growth can happen, I've got to clear out the death wood, tidy and prepare the way so whatever wants to be born has a place to land.  I'm itching to get outside, but the weather gods are not ready for me just yet. 

Inside there is plenty of half baked projects shouting out for my attention.  I start small, finding paintings in various states of completion ...

Pushing paint is what my one friend calls it ...  getting the juices flowing ... I know from past experience it doesn't matter so what I do as long as I do something. It is about stoking the internal fire, moving energy.  Some of the best advice I received from a yoga mentor was to consider before eating which foods would give me energy versus take energy to digest and assimilate. Expanding upon that idea, what can I do to support healthy energy flow within myself?  

The answer for me has been taking time to read, reflect, and meditate; daily prayer outside; cooking and consuming fresh foods, exploring new recipes; exercise (oh to run in the warm sunshine); and play. Lots and lots of creative play.

In the face of so much loss, there is a pull towards collapse, an impulse towards inertia.  The only valid response to death - in my humble opinion - is to live. The counterpoint to tamas is rajas, action. Both are necessary, both are part of the ever moving wheel of birth, life, death and the dance of opening, receiving, and releasing.  

The way I move out of Winter mode and into Spring is to follow the energy. Nurture and support it and then allow it to support and carry me. I am amazed to discover there has been so much all around me, so much waiting to engage and awaken me.

paintings in various states of completion; my intention is to offer them for sale soon!

What are you finding as you move out of Winter's cave and back into the sunshine? What gets your juices flowing?

 

Welcoming the mystery, relaxing into the not knowing is one way to navigate through the transitions.

Accidents

I know ... there are no such things as accidents ... but perhaps it is more accurate to say accidents happen but the possibility for insight, learning, or growth is never accidental.

My yoga lineage, Kripalu yoga, is a heart and body based approach to accessing transformational wisdom. The starting point is to always come back to the body, which is to come back to the present moment.  From there, the mind and spirit will follow.  Grounded in the experiences of the body, of this moment, I am better able to access the deeper wisdom of heart and soul.

All of which is to say ... the teachings of Life are conveyed to me through barked shins, banged heads, funny bones triggered and a nail in the foot. (Because I am stubborn and require such broad gestures!)

 
That is how my week ended last week.  After the excitement of house guests - and the  exhaustion ... I am by nature a solitary creature and social encounters exact a huge toll upon my emotional and energetic reserves -  I was attempting to shift back into "business as usual."  Cowgirl had swim lessons, then zoo camp to attend; the house needed tidying in preparation for the Husband's return (which is another long story of mishaps, misadventures and travel torture); and the yard cried out for attention.  I actually weeded! 

Puttering about the garden, listening to the birds chatter, enjoying an unusually cool July morning, all the elements of an idyllic moment-of-being you would think, right?  As I sauntered around the side of the house to water my new geraniums (set upon the front porch for a splash of color - how domestic of me!), a searing pain in my foot halted my movement, but not my voice as I screamed out "Son of a ..."  (my go-to phrase it appears for any sudden and painful moments.)

I picked up my foot to discovered a nail embedded in the purple foam of my croc sandal, piercing the joint of my second toe.  Stunned, I pulled the nail out and continued on my way, hobbling to the front porch, watering the plants, then making my way inside the house, hopping through the first floor and up the stairs to my bathroom.  Sticking my aching foot under a stream of cold water, I sat straddling my bathtub and gave myself over to the full extent of the pain.

And then I cried.  Big, hot, sloppy tears that spilled over a very red, blotchy and now snot-streaked face.

At first, I cried because my foot hurt that much.  But then I cried because I was frustrated.  I had been trying to move forward, make progress, tend to my life in an active and energetic way and look where it landed me!  But then I cried because I was all alone and the immensity of my aloneness was overwhelming.

I had to wash out the wound and I realized there was something still embedded in the hole.  So I hopped into Cowgirl's room to retrieve the magnifying glass from her Dumpling Dynasty Explorer Kit ("Explore with JOY") and grabbing my tweezers I sat back down on the edge of the tub to attempt to extract whatever was lodged in my foot.  And I cried again, this time with the awareness that I was having to hurt myself - a lot! -  in order to care for my toe. 

I don't know if I need to say much more.  The wisdom of the moment felt pretty obvious to me: Life delivers a fair share of shock and pain and unexpected blood and those moments can feel like ruptures in the dream or story that we create about ourselves and our lives.  I act as if I can control my life and an accident reminds me that in truth my only choices are to flow with it (or roll with it as it felt that day) or resist which only shifts the suffering from my foot to my Self. 

If my practice has strengthened anything, it is my ability to slip into Witness consciousness.  As I gave myself fully to my tears and sadness, I was also able to witness myself in that moment.  I could see and remember the small child I once was, crying from fear of never fitting in, never finding her place, and the pain of feeling hurt, rejected and isolated.  My tears were a cleansing of those wounds.  Once spent, I recognized that I have continued to carry feelings that no longer describe the deeper truth about myself  that I know from living this life. I may feel alone - certainly I walk my path on my own and the real work of healing is mine alone to tend to  -  but the truth is I am never truly alone.  

That day's accident, the nail in my toe, punctured a hole in the illusions I've held onto so tightly. It is painful work to dismantle and examine delusions, fears, strong memories and emotions.  But it is necessary for true growth and understanding.  Frightened child, lonely woman, wounded toe all describe what I knew about myself in that instant, but those experiences, those labels, do not define me.  As I hobbled through the rest of my day, I understood that what limits me is not what happens to me, but what I choose to believe about myself and life.  A nail in the foot can shut me down but it can also be the opening into a greater freedom.  It is my choice. 

I hope to always choose joy and what better wisdom than Explore with Joy? But I will add: explore with Joy and a fair share of humor and patience for the random appearance of nails on the path, never forgetting to hold much compassion for the vulnerability and tears that will inevitably greet them.  

slow flow

It finally feels like Spring around here.  June always catches me off  guard as my mind is thinking summer thoughts as the schools let out for the year around the third week in May.  The neighborhood pool opens on Memorial Day weekend and everyone busts outdoors to enjoy the mild weather.  I feel like we should be easing into July, but then the scent of lilacs carried by the cool night air to our bedroom window restore my sense of time.

It is early June and summer's easy stride is still weeks away.

I've just gotten an early start.

I sound like every retiree I've ever chatted up:  How did I ever find the time to work and live my life? 

My first college art professor shared with us the reward of immersing oneself in creative pursuits: a return to a medieval sense of time.  Rather than experiencing life in tidy segments of time - hours parading by in quick step - art making and the absorption it necessitates, brings me into an experience of time that is expansive, shiftable, and detached from cognitive experience. Minutes feel vast and hours collapse into a handful of thoughts, a breath and a sigh. The only evidence of the passage of time is my body's hunger for fuel after an immense expenditure of energy.  

My self-imposed retirement (not that I am referring to this phase as such to the Husband who would certainly raise an eyebrow while quietly freaking out inside) is challenging me when it comes to organizing my days.  I suppose I should be abandoning such an old-fashioned notion as I embrace my radical self-reinvention;  but my habit is to create some structure or routine which allows me to room to improvise and play with some illusion sense of security and order. 

The trouble is, I cannot rush my morning coffee and I do believe puttering should be classified as a High art.

This morning I sat for what I told myself would be a brief meditation session.  It helps if I ease myself into such things.  So I sat there thinking at best I would notice a couple of complete breaths and then hop to ...

But that medieval sense of time kicked in and I found it fascinating to watch how my mind trudges like a foot soldier through the forest of my thoughts, convinced that there is an end to that forest, that a clearing of some sort awaits discovery.  I could almost hear my mind bellowing: forward hup! 

This is how I have been living my life: as an never-ending check-list of things to hustle through, no end in sight but a belief in some sort of completion or finish line that once crossed, would blast me into a state of fulfillment if not nirvana.  I am always seeking: the answer or the question to be asking; for meaning, for purpose; insight or understanding.  Always on the look out, forgetful that there is no place to go where I won't be there with all of my uncertainties in tow.   

 There is no magic threshold to cross where my life falls into meaning, into order.  There is only right here, right now.  This evening with the sun easing itself below the green hills, the symphony of birdsong in the Spring air, the steady rhythm of Moose dog's breathing as he rests by my feet, my girl in her room singing a raucous lullaby to the company of stuffed animals circling her on the bed.  Right now is my life.  These words, the thoughts of this moment which soon will be followed by new thoughts which I will try to capture like fireflies in my hands, in these computer keys going clicky clacky click.  

This is what I attempt to practice ... to slow down, to relax into this new flow and stay as open as I can to the immensity and magnificence each moment offers up so effortlessly and so lovingly.  

This is the gift offered, received, and shared by us all.  This is how I choose to live and love.  What about you?

sprouting dreams

 Every once in awhile, I am surprised to realize that dreams do come true.

It's not that I don't hold out hope for the best - planting ideas like seeds into hope-filled and fertile ground -  but I have come to expect the unexpected which life tends to deliver. Like the pumpkin plant we had one year.  I tended to that plant like a new mother only to come out one morning and find it stricken by some fungus that shriveled it up it like the wicked witch under Dorothy's house. Cowgirl was heart broken.  

And then a few weeks later, I discovered a thriving pumpkin plant by our front porch.  Reminder that what we may toss aside as spent - in this case last year's pumpkin that I casually nudged into behind the bushes after I discovered it had rotted on the front stoop. (A lesson for the Husband that my seemingly slothful ways may hold some value.)  

I was reminded of this pumpkin (and similar gardening adventures - like the time our previous dog would steal tomatoes, carrying them around in his mouth and then drop them in odd pockets of the yard where hardy plants later sprouted up - which makes me question my gardening techniques) as I stood before 3 of my paintings hanging in a group show this past weekend.

Only instead of pumpkins, paintings of Ganesha - five in all - had manifested in less than three months time.  My first public showing of my artwork since I was a college student and I'm not sure even an elephant could remember that far back. 

It was a beautiful show mounted by the yoga center where I teach.  A number of artists were invited to contribute work on the theme of Ganesha, the elephant-headed Hindu deity of Success and destroyer of obstacles.  A good subject for someone stepping out of her comfort zone.  A good ally as I consciously embrace my identity as a creative being and become comfortable with calling myself an artist.  

Sweet treats for Ganesha (photo from Omaha Yoga & Bodywork Center)

It was a love-filled evening with many dear friends coming out to show their support.  My little herd of Ganeshas looked happy on the colorful walls of the yoga center and I was quite proud of them ... and of me.  Within the first hour of the opening one painting sold, and by the end of the evening 4 out of the five were purchased.  But more rewarding for me was to see people choosing to pose in front of my paintings for photographs.  

Cowgirl enjoyed the opening by cartwheeling across the space and contributing to the mythology of the paintings creation.  Apparently she painted in some key features - a point I don't recall, but certainly will not doubt. (Which means I owe her a portion of any monies generated by sales - a point she was quick to bring up.) 

my baby Ganeshas are on the left

And here's the bit about dreams:  two years ago I was in one of those "manifest your dream" ecourses and the dream I envisioned at that time was a gallery show.  I went so far as to inquire at a nearby coffee shop about their schedule of shows and submission requirements.  I even wrote out a list of ideas for a themed show and the work I wanted to create.  Then my interest waned and like that rotted pumpkin, the idea was relegated to a dark corner of my mind.  

Magically, it took root and without much interference from the gremlins that busy themselves with my conscious mind.  A lesson for me in patience, perseverance, and trust. I painted, I practiced and I stayed open possibilities and when all the forces were in place, Ganesha stepped in and cleared a path to an auspicious beginning. 




 

 
Of course, when I am paying attention and looking with my heart not my mind, I see how the Universe is always tending to the seeds I scatter rather haphazardly, bringing love into full and magnificent bloom.  Her given name does mean "excellent seedling" - a little reminder for those times I am forgetful. 

feeling a little more upbeat ...

Like a mantra, the words of a good poem can carry us through adversity and challenge, supporting forward movement and inner growth.  I am aware of my own cycles of turning to poems and writing them myself.  When the going gets tough, I reach for a favorite book, my journal and a pen.

For more poetry goodness, visit Milena here and here.

Danna Faulds books of poetry available here or you can contact her directly for autographed copies of all her books.

the art of non-doing

I've been thinking all week that I've been busy doing nothing. Well, not nothing per se, but allowing myself to wander more or less through my days rather than adhering to my usual agenda of do-do-do. My approach has been more like beach vacation state-of-mind: what would be most relaxing and enjoyable in this moment? And in this one?

No, we're not on Spring break over here and in fact I've been getting up regularly at 5:30ish (the ish-ness is an important lure for my mind - if I rigidly think "I'm getting up at 5:30" well, rebellion will ensue ... but 5:30ish gives a sense of leeway and easiness that tricks me into actually getting up!) In fact, I dare say my early morning routine is responsible for creating my more relaxed attitude and sense of an easy flow to my days.

What is the magic trick? I get up and sit on my meditation cushion and breathe.

Yuppers ... I get up early to breathe.

The yogis believe that we are allotted a certain number of breaths to a lifetime so if we want to lengthen our time in our current form, we must slow the breath rate down. Take our time breathing.

There are articles and studies related to the benefits of certain breathing practices (pranayama) but honestly, I am committed to this practice right now because I am already experiencing its benefits. My day feels more spacious, my relationship to time more harmonious and yielding, my reactions and responses calmer and more gentle. I just feel smoother and lighter and more focused and centered.

Clarity is my intention for this year and I am feeling it manifesting in my inner life and outer world.

Things that are making my days rich and alive:

Reconnecting with friends through letter writing. When I receive a letter or a card in the mail, I am aware of the time and care taken out of a busy day to connect with me and I so enjoy honoring that by sitting down with a warm drink, paper, pen and my thoughts. I think the greatest loss of our current age of clutter and over-stimulation is the space and time to cultivate a real conversation between souls. It is a dying art but thankfully there are many committed to its survival. I received this surprise in the mail this week from one such angel in and I recognize I am blessed to have many in my life who nurture my spirit with their words and care.

thank you dear Milena ... she hangs by the door to my yoga room,
greeting me every day!

I've been experimenting with herbal tea infusions thanks to the generous and playful HerbMother and her Spring HerbCraft camp.








Each day I take a quart mason jar and drop a handful of whatever herbs calls to me - nettles, oatstraw, catnip, spearmint, red leaf raspberry - then fill the jar with either boiling water to steep with the lid on, or room temperature water and then place the lidded jar in the sun for the entire day. The next day I strain it and drink it - delicious! My favorite concoction so far is nettles, lemongrass, catnip, licorice, hibiscus and rosehips. Even Cowgirl enjoys the taste and Latisha has several recipes she suggests for children, so I can't wait to brew up larger quantities this summer.







And as it is truly Spring here, it must be time for painted postcards.







I've been involved in two swaps with cards going to wonderfully exotic locales like Latvia, Sweden, Slovenia, and Malaysia. I have received a bounty of creative fun in my mailbox including a knitted postcard! (I know, no picture, how unlike me to not photograph something ... blame it on beach fatigue and too much sun ...)








I find making these cards inherently soothing and pleasurable. I am reminded of painting by numbers kits although my process is to sketch the one image - bird, dog, snail - and then allow the rest to paint itself in. I don't even mix my paints - I like them straight and full bodied.

I've been writing stream of consciousness bits of poetry or responses to these prompts: Today I am here to ... or This is what I have to say to you. I am surprised by how kind I am to myself and that there is this voice of forgiveness and acceptance deep within if I just allow the surface chatter, the loops of self judgement and criticisms, to wash away.









I found a letter I wrote to myself at the end of a week long silent meditation retreat. We turned these letters in to our instructor and he mailed them to us, months later. Eight years later, I re-read this letter and find my advice to myself, from mySelf still necessary:

Take time to reflect upon that which brings you joy and fills your heart with love and gratitude. Take time for yourself and also to be with others who share you beliefs or values .... Look at what is possible, not at what is lacking or missing or wrong. Don't shy away from challenge - push yourself to grow and respect the time you need for integration .... remember to laugh and don't take it all so seriously. Laugh, smile, and love - especially yourself.








I also found this quote copied down in an old journal:

A single event can awaken within in us a stranger unknown to us. To be alive is to be slowly born. - Saint-Exupery

I am a baby, learning to breathe and crawl and walk all over. Only this time, I am able to pay attention to the process and enjoy the exploration.







What stranger waits for you? Are you ready to play? Just breathe and laugh ... it seems to be the season for it.

horse medicine (thank you Ben)

One of the things I absolutely love about being a mother is the chance to revisit stories. More specifically, my stories.

Not that having a child is the only way to access one's past history, but Cowgirl insistently prods me to tell her stories and in those moments of scanning through my memory banks, I often stumble upon pieces of buried treasure.

Such was the case last night as I peeled carrots for a stir-fry. Cowgirl enjoys being my sous-chef (another plus to having a wee person about) so she was by my side chattering away about carrots which naturally leads one to the subject of horses. We were remembering her feeding carrots to her grand dad's horse, Pink Bell (Cowgirl named her after a beloved stuffed animal) which then segued into my horsy adventures.

And then I remembered Ben. Ben was a beautiful gray horse who was on vacation from his work while I was on vacation from my life. Well, vacation if you consider getting up at 5 AM and practicing 3 hours of yoga a day on top of attending classes and practice teaching sessions a vacation. I was enrolled in a month-long yoga teacher training program at Kripalu Yoga Center and Ben was spending that same month on holiday in the field behind the center.

I first noticed Ben while eating my breakfast in the dining hall. Breakfasts at Kripalu are held in silence. There is soft music playing, the clatter of dishes and the drone of fans but otherwise all is quiet. Breakfast was my favorite time of the day - I would float in, relaxed with a morning yoga practice already under my belt and the day still ahead of me. I would gather my favorite foods: oatmeal, fruit, yogurt with honey, hot tea and then look for a seat by a window. Since everyone was in silence, I would look out the window and daydream.

Until I discovered Ben. After that, I would look out the window to see if I could find him eating his morning meal of grass and I would watch him lazily move around the field nibbling here, nibbling there. After a couple of days, I decided to grab an apple at breakfast and take it over to him during my afternoon break.

The first time I approached the fence, Ben methodically moved away from me. Like a magnet when the same poles face each other, wherever I moved seemed to repulse Ben in the opposite direction. So I cut my apple into slices and lay them upon the ground just inside the fence.

We did the same dance over the next few days. Every day I would take an apple up and leave it for Ben who seemed rather indifferent to my appearance and the apple.

And then one day I started my trek up to the field and Ben slowly and rather nonchalantly ambled toward me and the apple he knew I held in my hand. Everyday of my remaining month's stay I visited Ben and everyday he would come to me and eagerly eat my apple. Eventually he allowed me to scratch behind his ears and stroke his cheeks and velvety nose. His reward for my patience.

Ben - and the crow that appeared at my window every morning (every!) to wake me up - are vivid memories from that period in my life twelve years ago this July. And here's the treasure I discovered while recounting my friendship with Ben to Cowgirl: when we are starting out in any new relationship we have to be patient and persistent. We have to show up and allow the other time to get used to our presence. It is our consistency and willingness to allow the other to move towards us in their own time which builds comfort and trust.

Of course the relationship I speak of here is really the relationship I am trying to build with the parts of myself I have neglected, denied or pushed away. When I think about nurturing my creativity, I am reminded of my willingness with Ben to show up every day and wait for him to come to me. It really isn't much different with my practice of writing, painting, photography. By cultivating patience and persistence or consistency, I place myself repeatedly in a space where inspiration knows to find me. I open myself to whatever may arrive and welcome it even if all I am afforded is a chance to place my offering upon the ground. I am feeding my creativity and in turn it is allowing the shy voices within me to find a safe and receptive place to speak and be heard.

Thank you Ben for this teaching. As I continue to befriend myself, I will think of you and our summer of rest and recovery.

examining the clues

I've been listening to and loving Jen Lee's 4 cd set entitled The Iconic Self. It's been on constant play in my car and in my mind.

The series of conversations and stories between Jen and Phyllis Mathis, a licensed counselor, are about uncovering all the parts of oneself and - in their words - inviting ourselves back into our lives, into our own self. Claiming and experiencing a truer expression of who it is we were born to be.

The talks have generated lots of excavation work into my past as I look for patterns and trends in my understanding of myself and in my behavior and actions. I am gathering pieces of a puzzle and one section just became clearer.

I realize I have had a long-lived fascination with a certain kind of character in books and films - the sleuth or investigator. As a child I loved the book Harriet The Spy. I wanted to be like Harriet and so I got myself a composition notebook and carried it around with me everywhere. What Harriet did was collect her observations in her notebook but I felt there was little of interest or value to put into my notebook.

As a preteen I devoured volume upon volume of Agatha Christie novels. I also loved the Sherlock Holmes mysteries and carried a tattered penguin edition copy of the complete stories with me as I traveled throughout Europe my junior year in college.

I've never thought about why I have been drawn to such stories and characters. But I am now recognizing a quality inherent in the super sleuth that captures a piece of who I am: the ability to look carefully, gather clues and through the power of the intellect understand and solve the mystery. The power to know.

But what is the great mystery in my own life? I am thinking the riddle I am trying to figure out is myself. By identifying with the super sleuth, I believe I can uncover the truth of who I am and what it is I am meant to do with my life. That with enough clues, the answer will be revealed.

As much as I would like to believe otherwise, I have lived most of my life in my head. If thinking and feeling are opposite ends of a spectrum, my teeter toter is clearly tipped towards thinking. But always there has been this sense that I actually know, but I don't know. When prompted to "ask what is your heart's greatest desire" and told "the first thing that comes to mind is the correct answer" well, I draw a blank. Because the response isn't to originate from my brain; it is to come from my heart and clearly that line of communicate has been fuzzy most of my life. It's getting clearer with practice but there is still some static.

Yesterday I listened to a beautiful talk by a yoga teacher about the Bhagavad Gita and how the warrior character of Arjuna expresses the experience we all face in our lives when it comes to living out our life's purpose or dharma as it is called in yogic philosophy. Our dharma is to manifest who it is we truly are and who we can become in this lifetime. She went on to explain " Whatever it is you do that upholds some kind of balance and harmony in your life and in your world, that is your dharma." And here's the kicker: when you turn away from fulfilling that duty, you create a rift not only within yourself, but within the well-being of those around you which ripples out into the whole world.

This is the central riddle of my life and the core of my angst: how do I discover my dharma? What exactly am I to do with this one "wild and precious" life of mine?








Just to be clear about the significance of this inquiry, it is important to keep in mind the setting for the Bhagavad Gita is a battlefield and the warrior Arjuna is being asked to fight in The Fight that will determine the outcome of an entire kingdom. What is interesting is his helper, his charioteer and the one who counsels him, is none other than Lord Krishna, that great cosmic flirt and lover of life.

The lesson here is that to live an authentic life, to follow our dharma - to fulfill our potential - isn't going to be easy. In fact, there will be much doubt, overwhelm and despair which Arjuna expresses again and again to Krishna. "I can't do this" and "I don't want to do this." And yet what guides and inspires us to continue on, to go into battle if necessary, is the force of Love. It is the call to be passionately engaged in my own life; to have an intense love affair with living and to experience that level of commitment and engagement which propels me forward.

Uncovering the mystery of my dharma has become my personal koan for I know, but I don't know. After the talk on the Gita, there was an asana practice. The first pose, child's pose, had me folded over my knees, forehead to the ground in a posture of supplication. In this posture the head - th emind - is placed below the heart. Then we were told to stretch out our arms and turn our palms to face up. With hands ready to receive we were invited to inquiry within: What is my dharma? And of course we were told "the first thing that comes to mind is the correct answer."

The challenge is to receive that answer; to trust the source of knowing will not come from my head, but from deeper place of knowing - from my heart and my gut. And then to take action understanding the outcome is not the issue. What matters is standing up in one's life and being fully present for it and in it. The warrior's duty is to fulfill that mission knowing it will be hard, it will be challenging, it will be at times a great battle but if we take that challenge on, we will have Love always fighting by our side.

what am i really holding onto?

One of the more daunting tasks I face on a semi-regular basis is the sorting and clearing of Cowgirl's clutter. Make no mistake about it, this girl's a hoarder-in-training. She has gone through phases of saving bottle caps, the plastic packaging from her Hot Wheels cars, pictures from magazines or newspapers (yes, I created this habit - "Mom, we can put it in my art journal!" Of course little makes it into said journal) and now piles upon piles of cut out dragons, sharks, and monster truck drawings.








And I haven't even gotten to her room and the squirreled away plastic gee gaws masquerading as party favors and "rewards" for Caught Being Good. I find these items in boxes, baskets, in drawers and scattered throughout the many grottos of treasure in her closet. I curse you Oriental Trading Company and your cheap plastic junk!

I have no problems shedding these items - of course I must do my dirty work whilest the girl is at school. So far, she hasn't noticed anything missing. She must have some Squirrel-with-memory-loss as a totem.

No, for me the difficult task is shifting through old clothes and toys. Each little outfit seems to have one memory per stitch and I find myself tucking things back into boxes. I mean, clothes don't take up that much room, right? Toys are a bit easier probably because Cowgirl really didn't have that many toys when she was little. We seemed to have exercised some restraint which now that I think about it, was probably due to the fact that Cowgirl didn't express much interest in specific toys. So I was surprised by my reaction when it came time to part with this item:








This plastic Noah's ark was the very first toy I got for Cowgirl. I bought while we were waiting to receive our referral so I didn't even have a specific child in mind when I picked it out. I think it was the first time I had read online reviews and actively researched this toy deciding it would be the perfect toy for my child. Well, for the child who would become my child.

And there is the clue as to why this little Noah carries so much upon his tiny plastic shoulders: for while this toy does hold memories of early days with Cowgirl, she played with it sporadically and found it far more enjoyable as a target for the many sticky stickers mysteriously deemed appropriate for small children (yes, there were stickers on furniture, car seats, walls ...) than as an object to exercise her imagination.








Weeping as I washed each tiny elephant, leopard and zebra I realized my attachment to this object was due only in a small part to the memories it held about Cowgirl. No, the bulk of its meaning for me centers upon the dreams I held for myself and the kind of mother I hoped I would be and the relationship I would have with my girl. You know, dreams of abundant patience, attention and love; golden afternoons spent baking cookies (I don't bake), playing tea party with stuff animals, dancing, singing and in general just floating happily about my clean, cozy, love-soaked home with my happy child.

We do have wonderful times together painting, playing board games, drinking cocoa, snuggling at night and reading Harry Potter out loud with all the proper voices and accents. But the sense of myself as always confident, always generous and loving with the right words, the right advice and solution to any problem - no, that ghost up and left long ago. Yeah, I bought into the whole Buddha Mom ideal for myself and Noah and his ark full of peaceable animals reminds me of the hope-filled if not naive ideas I so ardently believed in.

Not that I understood all of that as I bravely pushed on, packing up the ark and each animal to send on to a dear friend whose little boy is the appropriate age to enjoy this toy. In the back of my mind I knew I could always change my mind even while waiting in line at the post office to ship it off. I even debated holding onto one pair of animals as a memento but my inability to choose one couple suggested I needed to send the whole lot off.

Once it was mailed off, I felt better. With its absence I came to understand what it really represented and somehow the act of letting it go has allowed me to face what it was I was holding on to but had not confronted. I recognize my ideals for myself as a mother are not going to magically manifest, but require awareness, effort and a willingness to keep trying. If I've learned nothing else from years of yoga practice it is this: there are our aspirations, our intentions and then there is the action of attempting again and again to bring who we are into alignment with who we want to become. And just like any balancing posture, we come into and then fall out of the pose. Perhaps holding it for just a split second which is all we need to have a taste for how such balance feels. But that is all we need to inspire us to try again. And again. And again. Hopefully each time staying in our center a little longer, until it is no longer a practice but a way of being.








And now Noah and his friends have found a new home and my friend's boy apparently loves playing with his new toy. Which means one day my friend will have to face the dilemma: does Noah stay? Or does he go now?