Something to Say

I have made a conscious decision to share my journey with the world. Beyond the fear of putting myself out there, I have trouble believing that I have something of value to offer. Promising myself to be more active on my blog, I wondered, “What do I have to say?”

Last summer, I found my journal kept from ages 15 to 22 years old. I read this record of my life in a couple of hours. I felt such compassion for this girl, who didn’t believe she was good enough. When she spoke up, she got shot down. She gave so much attention to the condemnations, she begged God to make her better. It struck me how many of the journal entries began “Dear God.” I remembered more of my disappointments falling off my spiritual path. So this ‘girl that I was’ was earnest in her relationship with God.  I found myself smiling with love for her. Later that day, my mala beads broke; an outward sign of the shift occurring within me. But the lesson was not done.

A few months later I was looking through old pictures, and I found some of a wedding that I attended during that same time period. I remember trying so hard to look just right, to avoid doing or saying anything embarrassing. Later I found out that some people at the wedding were ridiculing me; saying that I was too fat and not pretty. I looked at myself in these pictures, and I didn’t see anything wrong. I thought, “You sweet girl. You didn’t deserve that.”

The practice of yoga involves peeling the layers that life has accumulated, clearing what does not belong anymore to get to the authentic self. This is not an easy process, but it is necessary to move forward. I have chosen to use my voice to help others on their path. In order to be of true service, I need to consistently keep myself clear. Sometimes old memories and issues rise to the surface, and it is my responsibility to acknowledge what arises, and then let it go.

That girl I revisited through the journal and pictures is a part of who I am, though she does not define me. Instead of using these memories to feed my belief that I’m not enough, I have chosen to use them to offer compassion to myself and others.  Instead of bitterness, I am grateful for those experiences. I have decades of life experience and wisdom that offer something of value to share. It doesn’t need to resonate with everyone, but there is always the possibility that something I share may touch someone, someday.

 

Therefore I will continue to say what I have to say. 

Om Shanti Om

Yoga introduced me to new ways of mediating, including chanting Sanskrit mantras. This practice has been especially effective for me, since Sanskrit has not been part of my language in everyday life. I have practiced mantras in English throughout my time on this planet (I can do this, God is with me, Breathe), which I've adopted or rejected depending on how I felt about it. Without a history influencing its meaning, I could study and practice a mantra in Sanskrit with purity. Through meditation, the mantra reveals itself, imprinting its authentic meaning over time. 

Traditionally, a mantra is repeated 108 times. 108 is a significant number in yoga, metaphysics, and ancient religions.  It equals 9 (the highest single digit number) multiplied by 12 (the basis for the duodecimal system which includes measurement for time). There are many fascinating meanings and equations relating to 108, which I encourage you to investigate. One significance of 108 is that each number represents a state of being: oneness (1) nothingness (0) and everythingness or infinity (8).

The mantra “Om Shanti Om” is a simple mantra for peace. "Om" is recognized to mean all that is. Chanting om in a mantra serves like an anchor, and may be the entire mantra. Many yoga classes begin and end with the sound of om. The sound of om is AUM, and it encompasses the beginning or creation (A) the middle or sustaining (U) and the end or transformation (M). "Shanti" means peace. Repeating this mantra infuses peace in all things.  This starts with our Self, as the vibration of the sound carries through the mouth into the body and outside the space of the body.

I often use Deva Premal’s recording of the mantra for meditation, though just having it in the background as I go about my day is powerful.  I find value in listening to mantras, even without complete awareness of its meaning. Positive vibrations of sound that come from a source of love will always have a positive effect. Even subtle elevations of vibration make a difference, and create a space for peace. Beyond personal practices or belief systems, this simple mantra carries no dogma and can be welcomed by anyone.

Peace to all.

Forgiveness as a Path to Love

During a recent social discussion, a friend brought up the question, is it worse to be a victim of an accident or the person that caused the accident. Viewing an accident as an incident without blame, more compassion is allowed for each person suffering the consequences of the incident.

In daily living, situations get more complex regarding misunderstandings, mistakes and betrayals of trust. As a person who interacts with other people, I have been hurt by another’s actions, and my actions have caused another’s pain. Knowing that someone else is hurting, and that I am the person responsible, can be unbearable. Justifications for my actions (it had to be done, there was nothing else I could do, I needed to protect myself, I didn’t know, etc.) don’t give full solace when I recognize the wounds are real.

When someone offers me forgiveness, no matter instantaneously or years later, I fully take in the blessing. For me, I know that this person sees me beyond whatever has transpired, beyond my flaws. I am no longer viewed as separate in their eyes.  Regardless of receiving this from the other, I need to give this gift of forgiveness to myself. Forgiveness is not denial or ignoring responsibility. Forgiveness is recognizing the true self, that I am one with the universe, with love as my essence. This is not easy, especially when blame and self- doubt are involved, but it is necessary.

So why do we experience these pains of separation and mistrust? I cannot pretend to know the answer. I do know that as a person who has been in need of forgiveness, I find it much easier to forgive. I more readily see my fellow humans as beings beyond their flaws; that they are also one with the universe with love as their essence, just as I am. I may not agree or understand them, and I don’t need to have them in my life to prove my compassion.  When I forgive, we are free to move forward in life, either together or in different directions.

The power and the grace of this gift fills me with gratitude.

My Lesson

At this time in my yoga teacher training, I am constantly taking classes from different teachers and different styles of yoga to enhance my own practice, which segues into the classes that I will teach. As I take these classes, I journal my experience; what resonated, distracted, challenged, inspired, bored or confused me. There are always teachers that I more naturally connect with their styles. There are also some days that I am not fully present, and I don’t absorb all that the class is offering. Each experience is unique.

What I do know is that I have never had a “bad” class. I have had classes that didn’t feel as beneficial or authentic for me, but those were mostly due to the different styles of teaching or a discipline of yoga that doesn’t naturally fit what I am seeking. This is especially validated to me when I witness the other students raving about the experience we just shared, while I’m floating alone in my opinion. In these instances, I have learned to open myself up to the lesson; what do I have to learn here and now? This way I have the opportunity to leave the class with a new insight or perspective.

Off the mat, this attitude has noticeably helped. Yes, it is much easier to practice on the mat, where it’s just me facing me; my fears, insecurities, limitations, progression and eventual accomplishments. Off the mat, I face people and situations outside of me; unfamiliar and unpredictable. My natural reaction is to retreat and hide. Through yoga, I have learned to give myself space to breathe in any circumstance. Then I can pose the question “what lesson is there here for me?”

Sometimes the lesson is that the current relationship or situation is not healthy for me, and I need to either respectfully remove myself or reinforce my personal boundaries. Many times the lesson is to be more fully present, to offer myself in service or companionship. There are relationships, jobs, classes and social gatherings that I tend to grade by how much I enjoyed them. I can list my approvals and disappointments in great detail. The problem with this approach is that someone or something outside of me is responsible for my enjoyment. Maybe even my happiness? That’s a problem.

What if I opened the question to a broader scale, “what is here for me?” If there is truly nothing, then I have my answer and I don’t need to waste anymore of my energy. Yet even the smallest draw may be reason enough to open myself to the experience, to be more fully present.

What I have discovered is that typically it’s my own fears and insecurities that are blocking my enjoyment. When I am fully present, I am better aware of these tendencies, and I can release them. When I free myself from my own blocks, that’s when magic is possible. I have found moments of true connection with another person, solutions to what was previously impossible, and the delicate beauty that has surrounded me the entire time.

Seeing Myself in the Other Person

I have been told that what bothers me most about another person is what I need to work on myself. It is a mirror reflecting back to me what I don't want to see. That is not a comfortable thought. Like most worthwhile undertakings, there is powerful value in exploring this truth.

I hate when people constantly complain. I just want to get away from them. I cannot wait to vent to Pete or to my journal. Why dwell in negativity and complaining about what we don’t like when there is so much to like and be grateful. How about I think about that?

A few months ago, I got an email newsletter from Oprah about keeping a gratitude journal. She introduced this on her show and enthusiastically shared how it changed her life, so I have been hearing about this for years. This time it clicked. I wrote that I am grateful for my marriage, our family and our home. The gratitude writing grew with each day, as I found new things to include in my journal; my Nana’s rosary, a fun dinner with friends, my grandchildren’s artwork, on and on.  Then I would see little miracles happening that absolutely thrilled me! A child in the store saying hi really loud while the mom smiled, a little embarrassed and a little proud. The cashier making eye contact with me smiling and talking. My yoga teacher telling me my utthita parsvakonasana was beautiful.  I could not wait to share with Pete and write in my gratitude journal.  

One day an old friend called me, and I was so happy to hear from her. Then she started complaining about her job and her co-workers, people I never met. I listened, and understood her frustration with the office. It’s not easy dealing with so many different personalities and agendas. I knew this from my own experiences, so I could relate. After talking for a while, she calmed down and we talked about happier things. We made plans to get together soon, and she thanked me for listening. It was not until I hung up that I realized the act of complaining didn’t trigger me.

So what about when I am so upset by someone, I do not see myself in them at all? All I know is the pain inflicted. That is when this exercise is most challenging, and offers the greatest breakthroughs. This is when true forgiveness becomes available.

I have been robbed, and I knew the person that did it. This person was consumed by addiction, and stole to feed that yen. This former friend betrayed my trust and cared more for a high than me; that is all I saw. I could not see myself in that person. I only saw what I didn't want. Many, many years later, I understand more than that. Excavating my own conscience, I have found where I have been selfish and disregarded others. I have reflected on times when I turned my back on what I had to get what I want. It felt ugly.

Though the surface was different extremes, we shared the same origin. We both were desperate for happiness. We both searched outside of ourselves to possess it. Now that I understand that, I can forgive it. Now that I find happiness within, I am not as attached to what I have or lack. 

Does that mean I’m fixed? Nope. I continue to work on myself. I don’t always succeed. I learn from each fall I take, and I sure do fall a lot. Giving me that space to fail and to learn is the simple act of kindness I allow for myself. When I forgive myself, it’s easy to forgive others their imperfections. We all have them.

On the other side of that, if I can relate to people’s shortcomings, I can also relate to their virtues. Each one of has intrinsic worth. When I think of the people that I admire, I get a “wow” feeling for what they bring to the world; whether it’s a musician’s intriguing interpretation of a classic piece or the teacher that I cannot wait for her class all week. The truth is I have the same capacity to create beauty, joy and inspiration in the world around me as they do.

And so do you.

Up Side Down

I have recently noticed that I’m not the only one to balk when the teacher says “now we’re going to work on our handstands.” Fear rises up instantly, washing over me with a kinetic sting. Other yoga poses are rooted from everyday positions; standing, sitting and laying down. From a natural foundation, I feel safe to explore my strength, balance, and flexibility. Placing my hands where my feet should be feels very unstable. I run from that feeling.

I have never been one to be daring. I won’t go on roller coasters. The truth is that many things I have counted on as stable have proven otherwise. There were moments when my world had turned upside down, and I froze. I would stick my head in the sand, as my mom says. As a matter of course, eventually I would adapt to my new normal. Just moving forward took all my courage.

When I first began my yoga practice, I would go to class to escape. Eventually I discovered that there is no escaping my physical challenges or the thoughts in my head. Practicing yoga, they are confronted then and there. I notice how I feel when I fall out of my balancing poses. I notice my thoughts judging my failure. I try again.

And now it’s time for handstands.

I notice my mind either screams “no” or sometimes just “I’m not in the mood.” The handstand is a fascinating pose. The teacher can make it look so effortless and buoyant. I’m not comfortable going to that extreme. It’s not my nature. I feel clumsy and weak. I’d much rather feel regal and powerful in my warrior pose, thank you.

Recently, I had the opportunity to do a handstand away from the wall with the teacher assisting. Even though I trusted her, I was still terrified of falling. That unstable sensation was very present. And so was I! My entire body was working hard to hold the pose. The teacher guided my attention to my form, empowering my control. My hands, my shoulders, my core, my legs, my feet were all engaged. When I finally released into child’s pose, I felt differently. My only thoughts were “I did it!” and “That was fun!”

Then I remembered that each time I worked on handstands, afterwards I always felt better. Better about myself and better about the world around me. Going upside down definitely shakes up my perception. I gain new awareness of the room, the world, and even myself. Not only is that a good thing, I need it every once in a while.

So I have decided to incorporate some ventures off the mat as well. No roller coasters yet, but little pushes to expand my boundaries of comfort and safety. I took an art class, painting for the first time since grade school. I choose to go on my own, without using anyone as a crutch. I didn't initiate any conversations, but I enjoyed painting and sharing the space with these people. Next time I’ll push a little further.

Recently in a yoga class, when the teacher said the word "handstand," there was a hum of groans while I squeaked in delight (sometimes I squeak). I don’t always enjoy handstands, and sometimes I’m really not in the mood. Yet each time I practice, pushing my comfort level further, I shift a little bit higher.

The Bravest Pose

One day, not too long ago, I arrived at my yoga class with a broken heart. I set myself up in the back corner of the room. My teacher walked over to me, and asked me how I was doing. I could not answer. Ugly primal noises came from me, warm liquid streamed from my eyes and nose. She held me until my composure returned. She invited me to stay for class, doing only what called to me, even if that was laying in child’s pose for the hour.

Garbhasana, child’s pose, is kneeling in prostration with the forehead to the ground. Normally used as a resting pose, it is very effective in integrating warrior poses. Virabhadrasana Dwi, warrior two, is such an empowering pose. The body takes it space, from the authoritative leg stance to the arms outstretched, this pose states “I am here.” After exploring warrior, coming into child’s pose brings that awareness from the outside in.

My teacher has offered feeling the courage of child’s pose. Surrendering to gravity, allowing whatever that experience brings. This openness is an act of bravery. Trust in the body, the mind, the heart. In the stillness, possibilities abound.

Off the mat, I struggle to find my place in this life. Balancing my own interests with the work required in each day. I am choosing to schedule my time to study and practice yoga. Sometimes I need to fight for that time and space in each day. I take action, however small, that states “I am here.” Sometimes it’s taking a different yoga class; sometimes it’s studying the Sanskrit names of the poses. Each day, I commit to what is important to me. When the day does not allow me to practice, I recommit the next day.

Those days that do not allow me to practice are my greatest challenge. I feel agitated, I feel swindled.  When breaking free from family or work obligations is not a choice, complaining is not my only option. I can surrender to the wisdom that the moment offers. Being open and present in the moment, when the fight or flight urges pull, can be a frightening idea. What if I let go, and just let this happen? What if I listen to what someone else needs? What if I give of myself, trusting that the time for me will arrive as needed?

The day I cried in yoga class, I was fighting to be present in my own life. I was battling the fallout of an important relationship. When I surrendered in my child’s pose, I felt the loss. I felt the emptiness inside me. I did not hide from it. By facing the pain, I began the healing. 

Through yoga, a new world opened to me. A world that explores both empowerment and surrender, I discover nuances in the dance of that balance each day.