I was raised Catholic. At best, we were pretty fair-weather Catholics. We attended mass on the occasional Sunday morning, but made sure to never miss an Easter service or Midnight Mass. My sister and I attended Public School Religion classes every Tuesday night until we were in middle school. I always struggled with my Catholicism. I always felt like a fraud in church. I never felt God, who I had been taught was separate from me. It pained me that I wasn’t touched by faith. Oh, how I wanted to have faith. In my youth, I never quite imagined there could be another path to God than the one presented before me. To say I worried about this is an understatement. If there was just this one way, and I couldn’t find myself on it… what would become of me? True to my own form, I spent a lot of time simply not thinking about my situation. I became apathetic, with a now-and-again spurt of religious fervor. The summer before my senior year of high school was one of these times. I fell in with a small crowd of peers who were active in their Catholic faith, and because I was both impressionable and, on a certain level, still desperate to feel God and have a faith of my own, I became slightly more dedicated to my religion. I started attending church on Sundays again and at the end of the summer, I went on a retreat with the youth group to Denver, Colorado. This was the first time I experienced God and Love. During this retreat, I felt emotions I had never known. I remember collapsing into weeping episodes that I couldn’t explain. I even stood up and committed myself to Jesus. I was saved.
The day that I got back from the retreat, I was with my friend, driving to go see my Mother for the first time in a week and we were in a car accident. I spent a couple nights in the hospital for observation. As if that weren’t enough for my poor soul, while in the hospital, the doctors found, completely unrelated to this accident, a tumor along my spine. With the utmost compassion and professionalism ever seen in the history of medicinal care, the young doctor who was assigned my case immediately informed me upon discovering said tumor that it was almost certainly a rare form of cancer, absolutely without a cure, and that more than likely, my short time on earth would be soon coming to an end. Then, after I, the 17 year old who had just come from telling God that she was His, that Jesus was her savior, spent a night lying awake in a hospital room, experiencing her mortality for the first time, the doctor returned with the news that what I had in my body was actually a benign tumor known as a Schwannoma. Essentially, an overgrowth of nerve cells and nothing more, easily taken care of with a simple surgery. No cancer, no dying just yet. (My thoughts on the American health care system to come a later point in time…) At any rate, what I’ll say about this ordeal and my faith as a 17 year old is that you could just go ahead and stuff your theories about “This is God’s test” where the sun don’t shine. I wasn’t having it. I gave my heart to You and this—THIS—is how you repay me? Commence the Dark Years.
Bitter doesn’t quite begin to describe my feelings toward God after this. In fact, I went staunchly in the opposite direction—as close to atheism as one can get without actually saying it. As it were, I don’t think I was ever an atheist, even if I had ever claimed to be one. Over time, I calmed down quite a bit and found what I considered to be a happy medium known as agnosticism. To this day, I don’t think it was an illogical mindset, and I fully understand the questions and concerns of the agnostic. What I eventually decided was that I just didn’t know. And what’s more, I had no way of ever knowing. Who was I but one little person. If there was a God, then He was so vast and huge and way beyond anything I’d ever have the capacity to understand or know. And at that time, that was just fine with me.
There were both good and bad reasons that led me to agnosticism. Commencing with the latter, I grew up seeing attending church as an obligation and subsequently, I saw God as an obligation, a chore at best, and achingly boring (even during my Religious Summer, attending church services each week was a test of my strength). Furthermore, I was raised with the idea that God was some Being outside of myself, of whom I should be fearful of and to whom I should spend my days begging to forgive me for all the wretched sins I committed throughout each passing day and please, please, please when I get to the pearly gates don’t send me away to the depths of hell for all of eternity. I remember thinking that God, if there was one, couldn’t possibly be so temperamental, so punishing and so full of wrath. Even before I reached the age of 10, I explicitly remember thinking that God (again, if there was one) couldn’t be anything other than Love. Allow me a pause here to note that I am not bashing Catholicism or Christianity, as I would discover later, it's just that I came to understand it just simply was not the path for me, personally. This in no way means to say either are a less valid path to realizing God.
And there was also the good (or at least, what I see as good). From the things that I found negative, I established my own idea of “religion.” I developed the belief that church was not necessary to express your devotion to God (ITWO). I thought, “If I really love and believe in God, then I don’t need to go to church to express that love.”
Next, I allowed myself to develop an interest in how other people, cultures, religions devoted themselves to God. I opened my eyes to other possibilities. The summer before I went away to college, I became enthralled by Hinduism. This is where I was first introduced to Yoga. I loved the openness of the religion, the way you could practically cherry pick the things that worked for you, the deity that helped guide you to God, the prayers you chose, the way you prayed, etc etc. This was also my first introduction to the idea that God was not a Being outside of myself, that God was in me, that God was Me—that God was Love.
To make a long essay slightly less long and boring, I spent the next 5 and a half years simultaneously in love with the Hindu religion, and subsequently parlayed that into a love of Buddhism, which, being itself a spiritual philosophy, satisfied the part of me that still harbored a “thing” against any form of organized religion. But I still maintained my agnosticism. The rest then, is history, and if you’ve read my blogs at all, or know me, then you know my struggles in between then and now and how I came to where I am in my life- my dedication to yoga and the new eyes through which I see the world.
Why am I telling you this? (And jiminey- thank you if you’ve stuck with me thus far through my tale. I did NOT think it would be this long. If you’re still here- stick with me! I think I’m almost done.) I’m telling you this because one day a couple of weeks ago, I was milling about in my kitchen, making a batch of soup and, suddenly, like I had been slapped across the face— or maybe in this case, gently tapped on the heart—I felt my faith again. Without a doubt, to the point that just writing this sentence brings a knot to my throat that makes me want to cry with joy, with wonder, with love, I have faith in God. I mean… God. A word that I have struggled to reconcile myself with for so many years. Even at the beginning of my Yoga journey and self-transformation, the best I could offer up was the word Energy to explain everything, just so I didn’t have to say the G word. But I’m sorry (ha! no I’m not!)—God is alive and well inside of me. Oh, and I can feel it. I can feel the Love. It’s ready to burst right out of me. I have felt the call lately to take up my sitting meditation again. To rise with the sun and sit with God. Suddenly, with everything I do, I find myself thinking unconsciously, “I can be with God right now.” That mantra alone, fills me with love and contentment and unity with the world.
I have finally released my old emotions, and the old connotations that I had toward God, the word. I am embracing divinity. Never in my life have I honestly had as much faith as I do in this moment. I am certain that God is inside of me, that the universe is working with me, that when I send out my intention and my prayer that it is being heard and not only considered, but put into action. And if God is inside of me, then God is not beyond my reach, like I imagined was the case as an agnostic. I can know and realize God.
And, oh, how I want to know God and how I am going to put so much energy into knowing God (and consequently, knowing myself.) There is too much in the way that my life has changed in the past 2 years, or even in the past 7 months to deny that God is not providing for me. When I have broken down and screamed in my head that I could take it no longer, the Universe, with it’s never-ending charity, generously gave to me the strength and the direction. When I was aimless and exhausted from a lack of inspiration, overwhelmed by trying to choose a path for myself, there was God, answering my prayer and showing me the way.
It’s not that I believe in leaving it all up to God and letting everything just happen. No. In fact, I believe that it is equal parts God’s charity, and my elbow grease. God is in me, the resolution is in me. It’s a matter of tuning into my Truth, practicing and training my ear to acutely hear the answer coming from Me, not the answer coming from my ego, who is a workaholic and constantly aims to undermine the work I’ve done (who is even at this moment audible in the background, jumping up and down and saying, “Do you hear yourself? You sound like a kook! No, listen to me! I’m the rational one! Faith isn’t rational and therefore can’t be trusted! No, listen to me!”). Faith, by its very nature, is not rational, or else it would not be faith. So all I can say now is that I’m done trying to sound rational or logical about faith. Because God’s talking to me, and I’ve got no interest in only listening half the time and defending myself (to who, anyway?) the rest of the time. No more. God’s got my undivided attention.
Showing posts with label self-discovery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self-discovery. Show all posts
27 April 2009
07 April 2009
Time to Travel
I wish I could blog something these days.
I want to express myself. I want to be inspired to write something. I'm not so busy I don't have time to blog. I'm blocked. I can feel something inside of me that wants to come out, but it hasn't made itself clear to me.
This scenario is playing out in other aspects of my life. I've been partaking in some energy work recently, to unblock channels in my body, especially in my hips and lower abdomen, where I tend to hold my tension. And don't we all know about hips right? Since my last session with my energy worker, I have been pretty emotional, to either end of the spectrum and back. Crying in the middle of yoga class, or needlessly outraged because I've been minorly inconvenienced. My patience has absolutely gone out the window. And Universe, please forgive me for these days I've spent backtracking through my work on compassion. Honestly, I feel a bit like I need an exorcism. This energy is waking up inside me and I'm adjusting to it slowly. I see this opportunity as one to discover new things about myself, my body, and as an opportunity to cleanse and find genuine purity in my life.
Part of me is frightened of what I'm going to meet the more I focus on it. Things I thought I'd laid to rest? Things I hoped to never come up against again? Things that may completely blindside me?
So it's safe to say there's some fear, or maybe apprehension is a better word for it. But here's what I know: tonight, I was engaged in a rather dull, yet somewhat cathartic activity at work. Despite it being a task I considered pretty mind numbing, I found myself intensely present in despite of that. Of course, it's only in these moments of Quiet, wherever we happen to find them, that we are able to Hear. And that's when I heard. I am on the brink of something here. Something major. There is a transformation going on in and around me. I don't know what it consists of and I don't know where it's leading me. But what I heard was that it is big and it is good. Far outweighing my apprehensions is this overwhelming sense of peace, sense of calm. That wonderful feeling of knowing I'll be taken care of by the Universe. It's what I can only describe as true Faith.
What I'm conscious of is that the road may be rocky, but I'm headed in the right direction. I was never one to take the easy path, anyway.
So just in case you wonder where I've gone, I'm on a journey at present, and I'll be sending postcards along the way...
17 February 2009
stretch and strengthen
A lot of things about me have changed since I began doing yoga at EYC about 6 months ago. Physically and mentally, I am a stronger person than I have ever been. I am more forgiving to myself, am quicker to recognize hurtful thought patterns and have a progressively easier time reminding myself about that which is my Truth.
I have stretched and strengthened more than muscles, but also my mind. I am more open to new ideas than I have ever been. It's been years since I said with any morsel of true faith that I believe in a higher power and now I say it proudly and, what's more, I feel it with all of my being. I have developed more than just physical flexibility. Now I find it easier to adapt to changing situations, to get in where I fit in, to deal with situations as they occur rather than ignoring them and fighting with the emotions they bring up.
But perhaps one of the most remarkable changes in myself that I noticed was the stretching and strengthening of my compassion towards others. I was known in the past as a very sarcastic person. I've got it in me to be condescending and stuck up. I spent a lot of time with a "holier-than-thou" mentality. But two things happened to begin changing this in me. (It's still in the process too-- don't be mistaken and think that I'm saying I'm Mother Theresa over here. In fact, the reason I'm writing about this now is because of recent struggles with compassion.) The first was my yoga practice. The second is thanks to the novels by the YA author and beloved Nerdfighter, John Green, who themes his works around the idea of imagining other people as complex beings and not just props and scenery outside of ourselves. As I got deeper into it and began to understand more about the energies flowing throughout the earth and the power of love and gratitude and kindness, I softened. During our asana practice, it's important to be soft in all of our poses. Even if it's a powerful pose and takes concentration and strength and we feel ourselves tighten on that edge, we must find the softness. And so did my heart find that softness. I found myself considering the feelings of others more. I became more aware of how what I said or did may have the power to either help or harm someone and I gradually, and unconsciously, began straying from the behaviors that may hurt others.
For instance, without meaning to, I began cursing less. Me. Who loved to throw out the F-bombs and other powerful, almost pornographic words with astonishing frequency. Also without knowingly doing so, I gradually left my sarcastic nature behind me. It didn't give me anything to feel good about to be insulting or belittling to others. Then I started noticing a pang of guilt when I said something judgemental about someone. This has become something that I am making a conscious effort to control. (Also, let me say that it's not that I've become uptight. There's good-natured ribbing and joking with friends and then there's the behaviors that I was engaging in. They're totally different and it's the latter that I am trying to more fully release.)
The more I've come to understand ideas of interconnectedness and unity of life, I've realized that these negative behaviors hurt me too. When we consider that we are one, everything is part of the same whole, and I am hurtful to another, then I am hurtful to myself. I am more fulfilled when I honor others and respect them.
Lately I have felt that I haven't been so true to these ideals as I should like to be. I've consciously engaged in negative behaviors and sent forth negative thoughts to others simply because that is what the company by which I was surrounded was doing. I took their cue. My mind and my mouth were saying two different things. My mouth uttered negativities and my mind watched in silent disgust. And I felt badly because I knew that the things I said were not me. I am not that person any longer.
Thus, I've got a new yoga practice to work on right now. I am going to continue to stretch and strengthen my compassion towards others and remain true to myself, for mine is a quest for truth, peace and honor.
I have stretched and strengthened more than muscles, but also my mind. I am more open to new ideas than I have ever been. It's been years since I said with any morsel of true faith that I believe in a higher power and now I say it proudly and, what's more, I feel it with all of my being. I have developed more than just physical flexibility. Now I find it easier to adapt to changing situations, to get in where I fit in, to deal with situations as they occur rather than ignoring them and fighting with the emotions they bring up.
But perhaps one of the most remarkable changes in myself that I noticed was the stretching and strengthening of my compassion towards others. I was known in the past as a very sarcastic person. I've got it in me to be condescending and stuck up. I spent a lot of time with a "holier-than-thou" mentality. But two things happened to begin changing this in me. (It's still in the process too-- don't be mistaken and think that I'm saying I'm Mother Theresa over here. In fact, the reason I'm writing about this now is because of recent struggles with compassion.) The first was my yoga practice. The second is thanks to the novels by the YA author and beloved Nerdfighter, John Green, who themes his works around the idea of imagining other people as complex beings and not just props and scenery outside of ourselves. As I got deeper into it and began to understand more about the energies flowing throughout the earth and the power of love and gratitude and kindness, I softened. During our asana practice, it's important to be soft in all of our poses. Even if it's a powerful pose and takes concentration and strength and we feel ourselves tighten on that edge, we must find the softness. And so did my heart find that softness. I found myself considering the feelings of others more. I became more aware of how what I said or did may have the power to either help or harm someone and I gradually, and unconsciously, began straying from the behaviors that may hurt others.
For instance, without meaning to, I began cursing less. Me. Who loved to throw out the F-bombs and other powerful, almost pornographic words with astonishing frequency. Also without knowingly doing so, I gradually left my sarcastic nature behind me. It didn't give me anything to feel good about to be insulting or belittling to others. Then I started noticing a pang of guilt when I said something judgemental about someone. This has become something that I am making a conscious effort to control. (Also, let me say that it's not that I've become uptight. There's good-natured ribbing and joking with friends and then there's the behaviors that I was engaging in. They're totally different and it's the latter that I am trying to more fully release.)
The more I've come to understand ideas of interconnectedness and unity of life, I've realized that these negative behaviors hurt me too. When we consider that we are one, everything is part of the same whole, and I am hurtful to another, then I am hurtful to myself. I am more fulfilled when I honor others and respect them.
Lately I have felt that I haven't been so true to these ideals as I should like to be. I've consciously engaged in negative behaviors and sent forth negative thoughts to others simply because that is what the company by which I was surrounded was doing. I took their cue. My mind and my mouth were saying two different things. My mouth uttered negativities and my mind watched in silent disgust. And I felt badly because I knew that the things I said were not me. I am not that person any longer.
Thus, I've got a new yoga practice to work on right now. I am going to continue to stretch and strengthen my compassion towards others and remain true to myself, for mine is a quest for truth, peace and honor.
04 January 2009
Productive Things I Did on My Anniversary
It's my one year anniversary in Evansville. Neat, huh? Man, what a difference a year makes.
I did some productive stuff today in celebration. (Okay you caught me... I only remembered about an hour ago, but I was still productive!)
I cleaned the kitty litter box. I took the trash out. I bought body wash. I showered. I went to two fantastic yoga classes. I had my chakras read. I drank a Berry Chai Infusion from Starbucks. (You tea lovers out there really must hit up the Sbux for our new drinks...) Oh, and I finished my first ever knitting project.
<--- That's her right there! I made a scarf!
I have to say... I'm pretty proud of myself. For the day and for the scarf and for the year. Today-me and a-year-ago-today-me, while technically the same person, are pretty different. Gone is the lost college-girl, now is the young woman learning about life and happiness and responsibility. A young woman with a path before her that she chose. And did I mention the rockin' scarf I just finished?!
Happy anniversary to me!
02 January 2009
The Flip Side of the Coin
You know... chakra work and meditation sure are two bittersweet things in life. The whole idea of opening up and releasing attachments can be so good for you. But I discovered today that sometimes you can open up and you can let go and once you've done that, you really see what's left. Sometimes in your practice you finally let go, more than you ever have before and you see what all those attachments were attempting to hide, what feelings they were trying to protect you from. And sometimes it catches you off guard. Sometimes meditation doesn't make you feel like you're sleeping on a bed of roses.
I don't mean to be melodramatic or sing the blues. I'm really just in shock, the same way I always am when chakra work/meditation makes me feel euphoric. Between circumstances surrounding the last week and the meditation-yoga combo I worked through at home today, I'm seeing a clearer picture of the methods I've invented to protect myself from vulnerability and rejection-- methods that are generally fall in the "isolationist" category. It's hard to be hurt by others when you remove yourself from their presence. It's equally hard to feel the essential human connection using that same tactic. It's that pattern, again, of me turning inside so much and so often that I stop reaching out. The only thing that's changed is that it's just getting easier for me to see it.
I have a hard time blogging when I'm in this kind of a mood because I don't like to let other people see that I'm vulnerable, that I make mistakes. It's hard to admit that I get scared. It's hard to admit to myself that I get scared of yoga because of how much more clearly I can see me, and see the things I've tried for so long to ignore. It's hard to admit that I am not enough, that I need others and that I need proximity to others. But here I am, admitting it even though I don't want to and posting this blog even though I don't want to.
This is not a blog of hopelessness, though, hear you me. This is a blog of confronting the skeletons in my closet. I see them, I recognize them.
Now it's time to start clearing them out.
I don't mean to be melodramatic or sing the blues. I'm really just in shock, the same way I always am when chakra work/meditation makes me feel euphoric. Between circumstances surrounding the last week and the meditation-yoga combo I worked through at home today, I'm seeing a clearer picture of the methods I've invented to protect myself from vulnerability and rejection-- methods that are generally fall in the "isolationist" category. It's hard to be hurt by others when you remove yourself from their presence. It's equally hard to feel the essential human connection using that same tactic. It's that pattern, again, of me turning inside so much and so often that I stop reaching out. The only thing that's changed is that it's just getting easier for me to see it.
I have a hard time blogging when I'm in this kind of a mood because I don't like to let other people see that I'm vulnerable, that I make mistakes. It's hard to admit that I get scared. It's hard to admit to myself that I get scared of yoga because of how much more clearly I can see me, and see the things I've tried for so long to ignore. It's hard to admit that I am not enough, that I need others and that I need proximity to others. But here I am, admitting it even though I don't want to and posting this blog even though I don't want to.
This is not a blog of hopelessness, though, hear you me. This is a blog of confronting the skeletons in my closet. I see them, I recognize them.
Now it's time to start clearing them out.
24 December 2008
What I Bring to the Mat and Christmas,t oo.
So, I was taking a jaunt around Yoga Journal's Community page as I do more and more often these days (it's like facebook but for yogis, don't ya know!) and I happened upon someone who posted a blog about what he brings to his yoga mat each day. It was really moving to read and I think that it's definitely something we all ought to think about for ourselves.
What do we, individually as yogis and yoginis, bring to the mat? Yes, yoga is about union and about letting go of the ego, but like we say and I've said before, it has to start within. So I think it's important for all of us yogis to highlight what it is that we bring to the mat, to our practice, to our community. I think it would be neat if this started a chain (and we can all credit sat-nam for being the inspiration). In that spirit, I'm going to go ahead and go next:
When I step on my mat, I bring with me a girl who is only beginning to learn and live life. I bring a girl who is healing from mental wounds, self-inflicted. I bring a girl who was lost in the world and who punished herself for it. I bring fear. But I bring courage, too. I bring a yearning and willingness to let go of the past. I bring a girl who has only begun to taste true freedom. I bring a girl who knows deep down that she is beautiful and worthy of the good in life. I bring persistence in my quest. I bring a girl who is resolved to never give up on herself again.
I bring intellect, thoughtfulness and insight. I bring a mind that has faith in a power outside myself and longs to be united with it. I bring a heart that continues to open. I bring a desire for peace, inside myself and out. I bring compassion.
On my mat, I am a student of life who is no longer reluctant. I am inquisitive. I ask for help when help is needed. I am a girl who is learning to release her pride. My mind and heart are sponges. I am a leader too. I bring a dream of helping others like me to find peace. I bring a message to everyone so they may know they deserve peace.
I express myself with the suppleness that comes from youth and am grateful for the opportunity to grow and mature. I begin to express myself without fear. I learn to stay true to myself. I bring awe inspired by the beauty of life. I bring appreciation for my fellow yogis and yoginis. I relish in the energy we create.
And I try with my whole being to bring mindfulness to my mat. To live in this moment and to know that this moment is perfect. I bring the gentle reminder that there is no fight to survive. Everything is as it should be in this very moment and so everything is perfect. I bring an inner light that glows brighter the longer I practice and reaches out to the world.
When I come to my mat and I sit down, I imagine myself as a child sitting down for story time. I am the Earth's child, eager to hear Her story and beside myself with joy to learn that I, that we, are Her story.
When I am on my mat, and I am in this place in me, and you are in this place in you, we are one. When I come to my mat, I cease to exist as an individual and I am home.
Namaste.
~~~~~~~~~~~
So there was that. I'm separating that from this bottom bit because the top part was really for my YJ Blog, but I thought I'd share it here too.
In other news... You ought to have seen the look on my mom's face when I asked her if we could all go to Midnight Mass tonight. It's very un-me to want to do anything related to organized religion, but as I was driving in from Evansville and I was listening to one of my favorite religious Christmas songs ("Mary's Boychild," if you cared to know...), I got a nudge from outside myself to attend Midnight Mass. In my quest to reach the Energy outside of myself, I understood from this sudden urge that if I keep my heart open to it, this is the right place for me to be tonight. Where better to go to honor peace and love in this world? Maybe Catholicism has ceased to be the way for me, but I feel on this Christmas eve that there is a phenomenal energy buzzing through the land and I need to be there for it.
What do we, individually as yogis and yoginis, bring to the mat? Yes, yoga is about union and about letting go of the ego, but like we say and I've said before, it has to start within. So I think it's important for all of us yogis to highlight what it is that we bring to the mat, to our practice, to our community. I think it would be neat if this started a chain (and we can all credit sat-nam for being the inspiration). In that spirit, I'm going to go ahead and go next:
When I step on my mat, I bring with me a girl who is only beginning to learn and live life. I bring a girl who is healing from mental wounds, self-inflicted. I bring a girl who was lost in the world and who punished herself for it. I bring fear. But I bring courage, too. I bring a yearning and willingness to let go of the past. I bring a girl who has only begun to taste true freedom. I bring a girl who knows deep down that she is beautiful and worthy of the good in life. I bring persistence in my quest. I bring a girl who is resolved to never give up on herself again.
I bring intellect, thoughtfulness and insight. I bring a mind that has faith in a power outside myself and longs to be united with it. I bring a heart that continues to open. I bring a desire for peace, inside myself and out. I bring compassion.
On my mat, I am a student of life who is no longer reluctant. I am inquisitive. I ask for help when help is needed. I am a girl who is learning to release her pride. My mind and heart are sponges. I am a leader too. I bring a dream of helping others like me to find peace. I bring a message to everyone so they may know they deserve peace.
I express myself with the suppleness that comes from youth and am grateful for the opportunity to grow and mature. I begin to express myself without fear. I learn to stay true to myself. I bring awe inspired by the beauty of life. I bring appreciation for my fellow yogis and yoginis. I relish in the energy we create.
And I try with my whole being to bring mindfulness to my mat. To live in this moment and to know that this moment is perfect. I bring the gentle reminder that there is no fight to survive. Everything is as it should be in this very moment and so everything is perfect. I bring an inner light that glows brighter the longer I practice and reaches out to the world.
When I come to my mat and I sit down, I imagine myself as a child sitting down for story time. I am the Earth's child, eager to hear Her story and beside myself with joy to learn that I, that we, are Her story.
When I am on my mat, and I am in this place in me, and you are in this place in you, we are one. When I come to my mat, I cease to exist as an individual and I am home.
Namaste.
~~~~~~~~~~~
So there was that. I'm separating that from this bottom bit because the top part was really for my YJ Blog, but I thought I'd share it here too.
In other news... You ought to have seen the look on my mom's face when I asked her if we could all go to Midnight Mass tonight. It's very un-me to want to do anything related to organized religion, but as I was driving in from Evansville and I was listening to one of my favorite religious Christmas songs ("Mary's Boychild," if you cared to know...), I got a nudge from outside myself to attend Midnight Mass. In my quest to reach the Energy outside of myself, I understood from this sudden urge that if I keep my heart open to it, this is the right place for me to be tonight. Where better to go to honor peace and love in this world? Maybe Catholicism has ceased to be the way for me, but I feel on this Christmas eve that there is a phenomenal energy buzzing through the land and I need to be there for it.
18 December 2008
Fear- the extended version
So today I had a lot of pent up energy and I felt a little scattered and spastic. Then when I was at yoga, laying in relaxation after our practice and it hit me what that energy was that was coursing through my veins: fear.
I don't have a lot of deep revelations about fear or anything really insightful to say about it. I actually just want to air my fears. I'm looking at it this way: I'm going to lay them out there, say them to you, say them to myself and then I'm going to practice letting go of them. I'm going to practice confidence in myself and I'm going to practice trust in myself. I was laying there at the end of class today, trying my best and, I'll admit, struggling to relax and let idle thoughts pass me by, recognizing them with out judgment and just letting them go right out of my mind again, to be attended to later. Somewhere in there it dawned on me that of all the people in all the world, it often happens that I am the person I trust the least. Sometimes when I am about to embark on a new journey and a new experience, before the time comes to take action, I will doubt myself and my abilities. Sometimes I don't trust that I can be a leader.
Okay, I'll stop being ambiguous. The time for me to begin teaching yoga is drawing nigh and I'm scared. I did a home practice recently and while it was good and fine... it didn't feel the same as when I'm being led by a teacher. When you go to a yoga class, you do the yoga that is right for you but in the style of the teacher. I was at home and it occurred to me that I don't know what my personal yoga style is. So I'm slowly discovering it; I won't fully know until I do more practices on my own. It's exciting, absolutely, but it's also scary. It's like starting all over from the beginning. So then I got nervous about leading a class when I'm not even sure what my style is. And what if my style doesn't suit the students? What if people leave my class without a feeling of satisfaction and fulfillment? How can I possibly ever be as effective a teacher as the ones I look up to so much?
You see where this is/was going? I say is/was because in relaxation tonight I felt a release. I still need to really, really, really let go of these fears. I must practice with resolve my ability to recognize that I am not those fears and they will not rule me. Recognizing the source of my feelings and my fears today felt like the first huge leap to letting them go. My yoga is a budding lotus flower. It is growing and blossoming. With practice and time, I will become comfortable in my style. It might be different than what people at our studio are used to. I'm not Chris. I'm not Andrew. No one expects me to be them. Yoga is inherently "perfect," when practiced mindfully and with intent, it can never be wrong. In such a way, we will always receive something we need in each of our practices.
Also, I need to take the teachers off the pedestal I've put them on. They have opened their arms to me as a peer. The saying goes that it is only when we achieve non-attachment that we are free and equal. So then, only by detaching myself from the notion that these people are somehow greater than me (physically, spiritually, emotionally), can I become their equal. It's so simple yet I continue to see this theme and a struggle in my life. (Who doesn't though, really?)
I'm beginning to see this pattern of fear and lack of confidence and trust in myself and am becoming familiar with what brings it to the forefront. In savasana tonight, after my little revelation, the first thing I did was affirm myself. It's the jumping off point here, really. I know I'm strong and ambitious and dedicated to this and when I pause, breath and envision myself as a yoga teacher, deep inside of me I feel the truth and I know my capability. I have astounding potential inside of me.
The same goes not just for me, but for all of us. For all of us who suffer at the hands of our fears. So let's all practice together. Let's let go. Let's release our fears. Let's rise up above our egos.
Let's all be the blossoming lotus and most certainly let us remember how this flower is beautiful in all stages of its growth.
I don't have a lot of deep revelations about fear or anything really insightful to say about it. I actually just want to air my fears. I'm looking at it this way: I'm going to lay them out there, say them to you, say them to myself and then I'm going to practice letting go of them. I'm going to practice confidence in myself and I'm going to practice trust in myself. I was laying there at the end of class today, trying my best and, I'll admit, struggling to relax and let idle thoughts pass me by, recognizing them with out judgment and just letting them go right out of my mind again, to be attended to later. Somewhere in there it dawned on me that of all the people in all the world, it often happens that I am the person I trust the least. Sometimes when I am about to embark on a new journey and a new experience, before the time comes to take action, I will doubt myself and my abilities. Sometimes I don't trust that I can be a leader.
Okay, I'll stop being ambiguous. The time for me to begin teaching yoga is drawing nigh and I'm scared. I did a home practice recently and while it was good and fine... it didn't feel the same as when I'm being led by a teacher. When you go to a yoga class, you do the yoga that is right for you but in the style of the teacher. I was at home and it occurred to me that I don't know what my personal yoga style is. So I'm slowly discovering it; I won't fully know until I do more practices on my own. It's exciting, absolutely, but it's also scary. It's like starting all over from the beginning. So then I got nervous about leading a class when I'm not even sure what my style is. And what if my style doesn't suit the students? What if people leave my class without a feeling of satisfaction and fulfillment? How can I possibly ever be as effective a teacher as the ones I look up to so much?
You see where this is/was going? I say is/was because in relaxation tonight I felt a release. I still need to really, really, really let go of these fears. I must practice with resolve my ability to recognize that I am not those fears and they will not rule me. Recognizing the source of my feelings and my fears today felt like the first huge leap to letting them go. My yoga is a budding lotus flower. It is growing and blossoming. With practice and time, I will become comfortable in my style. It might be different than what people at our studio are used to. I'm not Chris. I'm not Andrew. No one expects me to be them. Yoga is inherently "perfect," when practiced mindfully and with intent, it can never be wrong. In such a way, we will always receive something we need in each of our practices.
Also, I need to take the teachers off the pedestal I've put them on. They have opened their arms to me as a peer. The saying goes that it is only when we achieve non-attachment that we are free and equal. So then, only by detaching myself from the notion that these people are somehow greater than me (physically, spiritually, emotionally), can I become their equal. It's so simple yet I continue to see this theme and a struggle in my life. (Who doesn't though, really?)
I'm beginning to see this pattern of fear and lack of confidence and trust in myself and am becoming familiar with what brings it to the forefront. In savasana tonight, after my little revelation, the first thing I did was affirm myself. It's the jumping off point here, really. I know I'm strong and ambitious and dedicated to this and when I pause, breath and envision myself as a yoga teacher, deep inside of me I feel the truth and I know my capability. I have astounding potential inside of me.
The same goes not just for me, but for all of us. For all of us who suffer at the hands of our fears. So let's all practice together. Let's let go. Let's release our fears. Let's rise up above our egos.
Let's all be the blossoming lotus and most certainly let us remember how this flower is beautiful in all stages of its growth.
15 December 2008
i'm all ears
The time isn't right for any words on fear just yet.
Instead I have a few words about listening. The saying goes that prayer is talking to the Divine and meditation is listening. I think that we, as people, tend to a lot of talking, a lot of asking. But when it comes to listening, we just don't seem to have time. Or we aren't open to the answer. It's very easy to ask, but my goal now is to listen and to receive openly. The answers can often be so subtle that if we aren't in tune, if we aren't paying direct attention, we won't realize that it ever came.
Listening takes practice and patience and an open mind/heart. Today was one of those rewarding days in meditation. So often in meditation we get frustrated because we don't have revelations or epiphanies every time we sit and so we give up. It's hard, but I am trying to be persistent and consistent. It's like payday. You have to work a while and then at the end of the pay period, you get a check. So there I was and I had prayed and I had come to a place in my meditation where I was listening, for a change. Really listening.
And I got an answer.
I knew I was listening because I really felt that it wasn't me that gave me that answer. The answer came from the greater Me, the part of me that is Divine, the part of me that I attempt to reach through my yoga practice and my meditation. I recognized that I hadn't just "come up" with an answer. I'd received an answer.
It was a really neat feeling and it reinforced the idea I've mentioned before about the universe taking care of me. In yoga teacher training the other day, we were beginning a meditation and Chris came over and laid a blanket over me. It was a gesture that was tender and nurturing and motherly. What I got from listening today was the same thing. A tender, nurturing gesture from my Mother.
The time and effort to meditate seems to be a small price come pay day.
Instead I have a few words about listening. The saying goes that prayer is talking to the Divine and meditation is listening. I think that we, as people, tend to a lot of talking, a lot of asking. But when it comes to listening, we just don't seem to have time. Or we aren't open to the answer. It's very easy to ask, but my goal now is to listen and to receive openly. The answers can often be so subtle that if we aren't in tune, if we aren't paying direct attention, we won't realize that it ever came.
Listening takes practice and patience and an open mind/heart. Today was one of those rewarding days in meditation. So often in meditation we get frustrated because we don't have revelations or epiphanies every time we sit and so we give up. It's hard, but I am trying to be persistent and consistent. It's like payday. You have to work a while and then at the end of the pay period, you get a check. So there I was and I had prayed and I had come to a place in my meditation where I was listening, for a change. Really listening.
And I got an answer.
I knew I was listening because I really felt that it wasn't me that gave me that answer. The answer came from the greater Me, the part of me that is Divine, the part of me that I attempt to reach through my yoga practice and my meditation. I recognized that I hadn't just "come up" with an answer. I'd received an answer.
It was a really neat feeling and it reinforced the idea I've mentioned before about the universe taking care of me. In yoga teacher training the other day, we were beginning a meditation and Chris came over and laid a blanket over me. It was a gesture that was tender and nurturing and motherly. What I got from listening today was the same thing. A tender, nurturing gesture from my Mother.
The time and effort to meditate seems to be a small price come pay day.
24 November 2008
Campaign of Gratitude: Day 1
This week I’m on a campaign of gratitude. It’s Thanksgiving week, and so I figure there’s no time like the present to do it. My goal is going to be to update at least 5 times this week and talk about something for which I am grateful. Shouldn’t be too hard.
Originally I started by making a list of what I wanted to talk about each day but a couple things happened that caused me to alter my subject for this first day. 1) I pulled out an old notebook this weekend to bring to yoga teacher training and, 2) a disturbing article I found online.
The notebook I happened to pull out was the one I used when I was in therapy with Jane my last semester at Murray. There were a couple journal entries in there. The most notable was the first entry, dated July 18th 2007. It was shocking reading the things I wrote:
“…How I feel is confused, chaotic, without control. I feel pressure from myself to get past this, pressure from others to do what they think is best and fear of letting everyone down.”
“I freak out when there are unknowns.”
“I’ve receded into a totally isolated place in my mind and I’ve kept myself from being really honest with even my closest friends and family.”
“Mood swings: I got the nickname of ‘Bipolar Jenny’ last year.”
“Now I am trying to face my demons and I intend to work past them. Now I feel vulnerable and chaotic all over again but the only way I know how to deal is unhealthy so I feel more out of control because I have no coping methods to turn to. I hate being vulnerable. I do not tolerate weakness on my part. I need to be a stonewall and a pillar of strength. I don’t want to be taken advantage of.”
I finished reading that first entry and it was weird how I could only remotely remember those feelings. It seemed to me I was reading about a third party. I was a little taken aback and simultaneously grieving for this girl. How could any single person have all of that going on in their head at one time? Such an unfair burden to carry. No one should live that way.
Then I moved to the next entry and was baffled once more.
July 19th 2007:
“You know, sometimes, I may freak out, but when the day is over there is one thing I know about myself and that is that I am strong and I will achieve the things I want. And I’m positive—I know I will get over this hurdle. Life can be a struggle but all it takes is knowing you can make it… with a little bit of work. And I am ready to work.”
Just one day later, there it was: hope and resolve. What a gift. How lucky am I that it was with me, literally, from the beginning. On July 18th I had hit the lowest point in my entire life to date. But on July 19th, I was already asserting my determination. I’m filled with so much pride for that girl. I’m actually at a loss for words. That girl was me. ME. I know when I wrote that second journal entry that I had no idea how impressive it was. I had no idea the implications. I wonder now if, as I was writing them then, I believed them. I mean, it’s clear I did on some level because I’m here now and I’m infinity times healthier and happier. One thing I know is that for as much as I yearned to recover, I certainly hadn’t really considered what life would be like once I had done so. I had no idea it could be so good and so free.
So this becomes the first subject of my gratitude this week. I know this seems like an egotistical way to start the week, but I maintain that until we find the light within, we cannot shine it out. But today, I am grateful for my strength, my resolve, my optimism. I had so much help along the way in my recovery but I also must recognize that without my own determination, I’d never be in the place where I am now. So I’m going to honor myself, give thanks to myself. I’ve done myself a huge deal of benefit in the past year and a half.
The other thing that brought this idea for day one’s gratitude is that I saw this article online: http://www.newsweek.com/id/170528.
It tears my heart out to think that anyone else is living the way that I do. It seems like it was one thing for me to have struggled but the idea of other people struggling is almost intolerable. No one should go through life that way. It’s just not fair. Something has to be done; these girls need to be reached out to. And I want to be one of those doing it. I don’t know how I’m going to do it yet and I don’t know what the community in Evansville is like, but I’ve got to do something. I have been given a great gift and it is only fitting that now, I should pass it on to someone who needs it, too.
Originally I started by making a list of what I wanted to talk about each day but a couple things happened that caused me to alter my subject for this first day. 1) I pulled out an old notebook this weekend to bring to yoga teacher training and, 2) a disturbing article I found online.
The notebook I happened to pull out was the one I used when I was in therapy with Jane my last semester at Murray. There were a couple journal entries in there. The most notable was the first entry, dated July 18th 2007. It was shocking reading the things I wrote:
“…How I feel is confused, chaotic, without control. I feel pressure from myself to get past this, pressure from others to do what they think is best and fear of letting everyone down.”
“I freak out when there are unknowns.”
“I’ve receded into a totally isolated place in my mind and I’ve kept myself from being really honest with even my closest friends and family.”
“Mood swings: I got the nickname of ‘Bipolar Jenny’ last year.”
“Now I am trying to face my demons and I intend to work past them. Now I feel vulnerable and chaotic all over again but the only way I know how to deal is unhealthy so I feel more out of control because I have no coping methods to turn to. I hate being vulnerable. I do not tolerate weakness on my part. I need to be a stonewall and a pillar of strength. I don’t want to be taken advantage of.”
I finished reading that first entry and it was weird how I could only remotely remember those feelings. It seemed to me I was reading about a third party. I was a little taken aback and simultaneously grieving for this girl. How could any single person have all of that going on in their head at one time? Such an unfair burden to carry. No one should live that way.
Then I moved to the next entry and was baffled once more.
July 19th 2007:
“You know, sometimes, I may freak out, but when the day is over there is one thing I know about myself and that is that I am strong and I will achieve the things I want. And I’m positive—I know I will get over this hurdle. Life can be a struggle but all it takes is knowing you can make it… with a little bit of work. And I am ready to work.”
Just one day later, there it was: hope and resolve. What a gift. How lucky am I that it was with me, literally, from the beginning. On July 18th I had hit the lowest point in my entire life to date. But on July 19th, I was already asserting my determination. I’m filled with so much pride for that girl. I’m actually at a loss for words. That girl was me. ME. I know when I wrote that second journal entry that I had no idea how impressive it was. I had no idea the implications. I wonder now if, as I was writing them then, I believed them. I mean, it’s clear I did on some level because I’m here now and I’m infinity times healthier and happier. One thing I know is that for as much as I yearned to recover, I certainly hadn’t really considered what life would be like once I had done so. I had no idea it could be so good and so free.
So this becomes the first subject of my gratitude this week. I know this seems like an egotistical way to start the week, but I maintain that until we find the light within, we cannot shine it out. But today, I am grateful for my strength, my resolve, my optimism. I had so much help along the way in my recovery but I also must recognize that without my own determination, I’d never be in the place where I am now. So I’m going to honor myself, give thanks to myself. I’ve done myself a huge deal of benefit in the past year and a half.
The other thing that brought this idea for day one’s gratitude is that I saw this article online: http://www.newsweek.com/id/170528.
It tears my heart out to think that anyone else is living the way that I do. It seems like it was one thing for me to have struggled but the idea of other people struggling is almost intolerable. No one should go through life that way. It’s just not fair. Something has to be done; these girls need to be reached out to. And I want to be one of those doing it. I don’t know how I’m going to do it yet and I don’t know what the community in Evansville is like, but I’ve got to do something. I have been given a great gift and it is only fitting that now, I should pass it on to someone who needs it, too.
19 November 2008
On Flying Alone: Airplanes and Love Notes to My Multitudes
I love flying on planes and I love to do it by myself. There’s something that is always moving to me about being one of many ones. I mean to point out that so many people on planes are traveling alone.
I love to look at them all and wonder who they are and where they’re going and why they’re going there and if they’ll ever come back. I wonder if they’re going home or if they’re leaving and if they’re sad or they’re excited. I wonder if they’re going somewhere they’ve never been before and if they’re scared at all. I wonder if they’re starting over from the beginning or picking up where they left off. Will someone they love be waiting for them with a rapturous smile or will they be walking into a complete unknown when they deboard the plane?
I marvel at this sort of public anonymity. This no-questions-asked rhythm of coming and going. Leaving in a way that is so obvious, going so far away that you have to take to the air to do it. Yet giving no reason for your departure. Everyone is just going or coming and letting it be just that. It’s fascinating.
It occurs to me that I love to leave. I always like to imagine myself as one of the people who are leaving, no matter what kind of trip I’m on. Whether it’s a departure or an arrival. To me it’s the bravest travel there is. I’ve always been captivated by the idea of leaving all things familiar behind and going where I have never existed to anyone before. The slate is wiped clean and I can be a new person. I can invent a new me. Sometimes I like to retain a bit of the Old Jenny, the bits I really liked and the ones that are Me inside and out. But I like the idea of getting the chance to be something I’ve always wanted to be and not having to explain why I’m this way now. In a new place no one knows, I proclaim myself to be how I want to be. Sometimes I discover that how I thought I wanted to be isn’t really what I wanted to be and I return to the parts of Me that remain.
But even still, leaving is scary. It is a difficult process. I don’t meant to make it sound like it’s all fun and games. As a matter of fact, I don’t see it as a game, but as an undeniable duty to myself. There is certainly a struggle (metaphorically) to be met once I get where I’m going (geographically). But in the end, the geography is not what is important. It’s not the destination, but the journey. I find more of Me, a part of Me that I didn’t know was actually Me. This is the reward for this kind of lifestyle. Finding new parts of Me, my confidence grows and I feel more complete. I can state surely that This is Me.
Walt Whitman wrote, “I contain multitudes.” This is the basis for how I feel it necessary to live my life. So my mission is this: discover my multitudes, or as many as I can while the opportunity is mine.
Some notes, though: This is selfish. The way I think is beyond selfish, even. This isn’t something that has escaped me, unnoticed. Sometimes it hurts people, sometimes I ignore that I am not the only one who contains multitudes. I am transient and I don’t think of what my talk of leaving means to others. I don’t have a solution yet for selfishness, so I just want to acknowledge that I know it’s there. If you’re reading this and I’ve ever hurt you, I’m sorry. But there are those of you that take me as I am (I have 2 people in mind and I trust you know who you are). There is beauty and comfort in your roles in my life because I know that no matter where I go, I have never left you, and will never leave you. And no matter where you two go, you have never left me, and will never leave me. I said this recently in a spiel to one of you, but now let me say it to you both: You are Me. This is something I’ve discovered along my journey. You are each one of my multitudes.
Epilogue:
I have to say… when I started writing this post, I had no idea it was going to end up going where it went. But I’m glad it did. I think for the people who don’t understand the way that I think, it’s important to illustrate that leaving isn’t an attempt to erase the past or to push people away. In leaving, I think we afford ourselves the opportunity to find the truth, love and strength of our relationships, such that no matter where we go, we find we are never alone.
I love to look at them all and wonder who they are and where they’re going and why they’re going there and if they’ll ever come back. I wonder if they’re going home or if they’re leaving and if they’re sad or they’re excited. I wonder if they’re going somewhere they’ve never been before and if they’re scared at all. I wonder if they’re starting over from the beginning or picking up where they left off. Will someone they love be waiting for them with a rapturous smile or will they be walking into a complete unknown when they deboard the plane?
I marvel at this sort of public anonymity. This no-questions-asked rhythm of coming and going. Leaving in a way that is so obvious, going so far away that you have to take to the air to do it. Yet giving no reason for your departure. Everyone is just going or coming and letting it be just that. It’s fascinating.
It occurs to me that I love to leave. I always like to imagine myself as one of the people who are leaving, no matter what kind of trip I’m on. Whether it’s a departure or an arrival. To me it’s the bravest travel there is. I’ve always been captivated by the idea of leaving all things familiar behind and going where I have never existed to anyone before. The slate is wiped clean and I can be a new person. I can invent a new me. Sometimes I like to retain a bit of the Old Jenny, the bits I really liked and the ones that are Me inside and out. But I like the idea of getting the chance to be something I’ve always wanted to be and not having to explain why I’m this way now. In a new place no one knows, I proclaim myself to be how I want to be. Sometimes I discover that how I thought I wanted to be isn’t really what I wanted to be and I return to the parts of Me that remain.
But even still, leaving is scary. It is a difficult process. I don’t meant to make it sound like it’s all fun and games. As a matter of fact, I don’t see it as a game, but as an undeniable duty to myself. There is certainly a struggle (metaphorically) to be met once I get where I’m going (geographically). But in the end, the geography is not what is important. It’s not the destination, but the journey. I find more of Me, a part of Me that I didn’t know was actually Me. This is the reward for this kind of lifestyle. Finding new parts of Me, my confidence grows and I feel more complete. I can state surely that This is Me.
Walt Whitman wrote, “I contain multitudes.” This is the basis for how I feel it necessary to live my life. So my mission is this: discover my multitudes, or as many as I can while the opportunity is mine.
Some notes, though: This is selfish. The way I think is beyond selfish, even. This isn’t something that has escaped me, unnoticed. Sometimes it hurts people, sometimes I ignore that I am not the only one who contains multitudes. I am transient and I don’t think of what my talk of leaving means to others. I don’t have a solution yet for selfishness, so I just want to acknowledge that I know it’s there. If you’re reading this and I’ve ever hurt you, I’m sorry. But there are those of you that take me as I am (I have 2 people in mind and I trust you know who you are). There is beauty and comfort in your roles in my life because I know that no matter where I go, I have never left you, and will never leave you. And no matter where you two go, you have never left me, and will never leave me. I said this recently in a spiel to one of you, but now let me say it to you both: You are Me. This is something I’ve discovered along my journey. You are each one of my multitudes.
Epilogue:
I have to say… when I started writing this post, I had no idea it was going to end up going where it went. But I’m glad it did. I think for the people who don’t understand the way that I think, it’s important to illustrate that leaving isn’t an attempt to erase the past or to push people away. In leaving, I think we afford ourselves the opportunity to find the truth, love and strength of our relationships, such that no matter where we go, we find we are never alone.
06 October 2008
breathing in, breathing out
I've decided to start a meditation routine in addition to my yoga practice. There are moments in class that I am in deep relaxation and I feel like I can feel the tiniest bit of real, true presence and I think that's something worth developing and reaching for. Thich Nhat Hahn said in Buddha Mind, Buddha Body that unless you are present in this moment then you aren't really alive because you're living in the past or the future or in a fantasy. But presence, alertness, mindfulness in this moment... that is to be alive. Sometimes we get so caught up in what we're worried about and some place that isn't right here and we're just losing all this time... all these moments... all these nows... exactly where life is happening. I've been one of those people and it's caused me suffering. So with diligence and intention, little by little I'm going to learn to be really, really alive. Not threatened by the silence, but amazed by the vastness. Not a slave to my mind, but a master of it. Not reactive towards my emotions but just simply aware of them.
Slowly but surely, I'm going to learn to be.
“Life can be found only in the present moment. The past is gone, the future is not yet here, and if we do not go back to ourselves in the present moment, we cannot be in touch with life.”
Thich Nhat Hahn
Slowly but surely, I'm going to learn to be.
“Life can be found only in the present moment. The past is gone, the future is not yet here, and if we do not go back to ourselves in the present moment, we cannot be in touch with life.”
Thich Nhat Hahn
09 September 2008
when bad lighting is what you want
Yea folks, you're getting a two-fer.
The exciting thing about yoga class is that with every class, I leave having learned something new about myself or having discovered new depth to my being. Sometimes it's a physical capability, sometimes it's a personality trait.
Today was sort of both.
To begin with, it was Fusion, which meant that we have a different teacher, a different style of yoga and it's a little more... aerobic. Today I got to class and our teacher had all the fluorescent lights on. No soft lighting, no incense burning... it was like being in a gym. She was talkative, she interacted more with us, engaged in conversations about poses while we were doing them in a way that was more "teacher" than it was "yogi" or "guru". Her style was different from what I've been experiencing: a calmer, subdued personality and an atmosphere that promotes an introversion of sorts, or concentration on the inner-self. At first I was thinking, "geez, I came here to unwind, to think, to zen out. Not to walk into a bright room like this and chit chat." But as class went on, the fluorescent light became a bit more symbolic. Sometimes, we need to do our yoga in a bright light, to see where it is we need to improve. What's more, sometimes we need to be reminded that there's room to improve.
The fluorescent light put my expectations and my ego in check. For starters, like I mentioned in my post earlier today, I walked into class today with an expectation of how it was going to be. I had set myself up to disappointed. Instead, I should go to class expecting nothing and everything simultaneously. Each experience is going to be different, as it should be, and it's up to me to accept the way things are and respond accordingly, making the most of the situation.
Secondly, this class reminded me, very positively, that I have room to improve. Our instructor helped me align myself correctly, and introduced me to the way certain poses should feel. At first, I was embarrassed. Just yesterday I raved to Erin that the instructor (a different one) had complimented one of my poses, and now here I was being corrected. I started to get agitated, with the instructor and with myself. Then I realized, I should be thankful that this "fluorescent light" was on me, like the unattractive lights in a dressing room... Feeling a posture correctly, understanding it fully and recognizing what I needed to do became refreshing for me. I'm there to improve myself, physically and mentally. And that's just what happened today.
I began the class a little disconcerted, and thinking I would be unfulfilled after our 75 minutes were up. Instead, I left class with a better foundation and consequently greater confidence, but also a different kind of zen. I was, in the end, really happy with this class, hoping to experience this instructor's yoga again in the future.
namaste,
jenny
The exciting thing about yoga class is that with every class, I leave having learned something new about myself or having discovered new depth to my being. Sometimes it's a physical capability, sometimes it's a personality trait.
Today was sort of both.
To begin with, it was Fusion, which meant that we have a different teacher, a different style of yoga and it's a little more... aerobic. Today I got to class and our teacher had all the fluorescent lights on. No soft lighting, no incense burning... it was like being in a gym. She was talkative, she interacted more with us, engaged in conversations about poses while we were doing them in a way that was more "teacher" than it was "yogi" or "guru". Her style was different from what I've been experiencing: a calmer, subdued personality and an atmosphere that promotes an introversion of sorts, or concentration on the inner-self. At first I was thinking, "geez, I came here to unwind, to think, to zen out. Not to walk into a bright room like this and chit chat." But as class went on, the fluorescent light became a bit more symbolic. Sometimes, we need to do our yoga in a bright light, to see where it is we need to improve. What's more, sometimes we need to be reminded that there's room to improve.
The fluorescent light put my expectations and my ego in check. For starters, like I mentioned in my post earlier today, I walked into class today with an expectation of how it was going to be. I had set myself up to disappointed. Instead, I should go to class expecting nothing and everything simultaneously. Each experience is going to be different, as it should be, and it's up to me to accept the way things are and respond accordingly, making the most of the situation.
Secondly, this class reminded me, very positively, that I have room to improve. Our instructor helped me align myself correctly, and introduced me to the way certain poses should feel. At first, I was embarrassed. Just yesterday I raved to Erin that the instructor (a different one) had complimented one of my poses, and now here I was being corrected. I started to get agitated, with the instructor and with myself. Then I realized, I should be thankful that this "fluorescent light" was on me, like the unattractive lights in a dressing room... Feeling a posture correctly, understanding it fully and recognizing what I needed to do became refreshing for me. I'm there to improve myself, physically and mentally. And that's just what happened today.
I began the class a little disconcerted, and thinking I would be unfulfilled after our 75 minutes were up. Instead, I left class with a better foundation and consequently greater confidence, but also a different kind of zen. I was, in the end, really happy with this class, hoping to experience this instructor's yoga again in the future.
namaste,
jenny
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