"When one door closes, another door opens. But it's hell in the hallway."

Or as my teacher Rolf Gates says, "When one door closes, another door opens but the hallway is a bitch." Either way, one thing is for  sure...the hallway is brutal! I am so tired of being stuck in the hallway! But today I started thinking, "Who is the only person who can get me out of this hallway?" Yep, that's right, ME! While in the hallway, the door has swung open but I've slammed it shut. Instead of letting go, I've chosen to hold on and be dragged through my existence. Instead of moving forward, I've chosen to cling to the past. Instead of falling and getting back up, I've chosen to stay down. All of these things were my choices. Opportunities have come and gone but I've chosen to say, "No thanks, I'll just stay here and continue to be miserable." Thank God my friends love me because there have been times over the past few months when I really could not stand myself! Rolf also says, "It isn't important how many times you fall, what is important is how many times you pick yourself up." I truly believe that things happen in our lives for a reason. I think I've known all along that the hallway is a brutal, sad place to be. But it has taken me many months to figure out that I am the only person responsible for opening the door and stepping out of the hallway... after all, the door is not locked. Blaming others for putting me in the hallway is not going to change the way I feel about or perceive myself. I am responsible for the choices I have made and will make in the future. And right now, I think I'll choose to step out of the hallway and start walking through some of those open doors! :)

Throwing darts...

Today I was having one of those ugh days!  Nothing necessarily going wrong but nothing going considerably right either...the story of my life.  So I got up and I went to ashtanga this morning.  I love ashtanga.  I look forward to it every time I practice.  Today I felt really good and pretty strong and then... ashtanga practice begins! I look around the room at all the other ashtangis-yes, I do that!  I started not feeling so good about myself.  A few of them are so amazing!  My hamstring has not completely healed, and I've lost a lot of flexibility and strength because of the tear.  So when I do triangle on the right side, I have to grab my ankle because I cannot get my "two peace fingers" to touch my big toe.  My side angle hurts like hell and do not even get me started on what the reverse of those two postures feels like.  So my mind begins to speak to me..."Why am I even here?" and "Maybe my body just isn't right for ashtanga." and "Your back bends really look pretty bad." I beat myself up like this for almost the entire practice.  My teacher says when someone puts us down or tells us something negative about ourselves, that person throws the first dart.  Then, we choose to throw the second and third darts at ourselves by continuing to put ourselves down and replaying the ugly words.  I not only threw the first, second, and third darts but I continued to throw lots of darts at myself during practice today.  At the end of practice, I was wiping off my mat and a woman came up to me and said, "You have a beautiful practice." At first, I had to do the proverbial look around the room to make sure she was actually speaking to me. I almost wanted to ask in disbelief, "Are you serious...were you watching the same train wreck as me?"
My point is that I wasted my entire practice focusing on what I consider to be my faults instead of focusing on how truly beautiful my yoga practice can be regardless of what it looks like on the outside.  How extremely fortunate I am to even be standing on my mat today.  How grateful I should be that my body is strong enough to carry me through the entire primary series..."peace fingers around the right big toe," or not.  How lucky I am to have an encouraging ashtanga teacher.  I decided to stop throwing darts at myself (at least for today) and focus on the gratitude that I have for the things I can do.  In ashtanga, the postures are simply postures-held for five breaths and then, you let it go without attachment.  I will try to keep my practice free from the darts that I throw at myself. Enjoying the sweet serenity on my mat, breathing, and letting go.

”The final aim in life is moksa, liberation.” ~ Meditations from the Mat

Words on paper have always fascinated me. As a teacher, I loved teaching children how to read. To watch their faces literally light up when they figure out how to sound out a word, it is truly a feeling so magical and powerful-I cannot find the words to explain it. When I was in graduate school working on my degree in reading, I volunteered to teach adults how to read. It was such a humbling experience to serve these amazing people. I often wondered who the teacher really was: me or them. I cannot begin to imagine the courage that it must have taken for these adults to sit next to me each session, sounding out words like a child as I helped their brain process and make sense out of what their eyes were seeing. How vulnerable they must have felt. What a blessing this opportunity was for me. I am so grateful that I could be a part of their lives.

On my last day volunteering as I wrapped my arms around my student to say “good-bye,” he whispered to me, “Thank you, I am free.” I’ll never forget his words or the sound of his voice. That moment changed me forever.  For my student, learning to read gave him a sense freedom. He no longer lived in isolation from other people. He no longer had to hide from words or avoid situations that required him to read. He no longer had to be afraid he would embarrass his children when in the presence of their friends. To him, something as simplistic as being able to read (which many of us take for granted) made him free. He had achieved moksa. The moment he uttered his first word from paper, he was free. He could no longer tell himself, “I cannot do_______ because I cannot read.” I wish I could have told him what I later realized but I was so overcome with emotion and empathy at that moment, my mind went completely blank. But later I realized he became free the moment he walked into the door. He became free, again, the moment he opened up a book. He was free from the barriers that society had placed on him. He was free from judgment. He was free from the fear that lied to him and told him he was not smart enough, good enough, or that I would think less of him if he stumbled on a word. He let go and faced an obstacle that he had dealt with his entire life. He was free!

When we face life’s obstacles head-on, when we simply let go, we are free…

“Do everything with a mind that has let go” ~ John Chan

I read the above quote from the book Meditations from the Mat by Rolf Gates.  In this part of the book, Rolf discusses how new students come to a yoga class and they “wrestle” with their pride to get the postures right and they even begin to place judgments on their efforts.  To sum it up, they are hard on themselves.

When an experience is humbling and challenging, we judge ourselves-our mind does not let go.  It re-plays the mistakes we have made, it records the mistakes we are making and this can be paralyzing. When the mind cannot let go, we cannot be present.  Worrying and regretting past mistakes will not change history-what’s done is done.  Worrying about what might happen will not stop the inevitable from occurring.  Worry and fear are just two ways in which our mind cannot let go.

The very first time I stepped into a real yoga studio I was so scared. Scared of what people might think of me, scared I’d fall on my face (and I have many times…fell on my head in practice this morning), scared I would not be able to make it through the practice (I made it about 15 minutes and was in child’s pose) but I survived my first yoga experience despite my fears.  Not only did I survive but my very first yoga teacher has become one of my best friends.  Fear keeps us from pursuing our dreams.  Fear tells us things that are not true…it lies to us and keeps us stagnant.  Fear simply won’t allow our minds to let go.

I have always been afraid to Chakrasana in ashtanga.  It’s basically a backward rolling somersault.  I would roll back with my legs over shoulders, toes touching the floor and literally put the brakes on.  My mind took over from there: this is too hard, my neck is going to break, I’ll fall on my head, I'm not strong enough, etc. One night, I couldn’t sleep.  I wasn't so much bothered by the fact that I could not Chakrasana, but it bothered me that I was scared to Chakrasana.  It drove me insane in ashtanga when my teacher would call out, “Chakrasana…or not.”  It drove me insane because I was in the “or not” category!   So at 2 a.m. I rolled out my yoga mat (yes, I do stuff like that), my mind let go and I did a Chakrasana…and another…and another! In the primary series of ashtanga, Chakrasana occurs twice.  The first is after Supta Padangusthasana (big toe posture on your back) and the second after Setu Bandhasana (bridge posture). There is also a Chakrasana in the finishing sequence after Uttana Padasana (extended leg posture).  It is fun to Chakrasana! It is also a reminder to me of what I can accomplish when my mind lets go.

Rolf Gates says this about letting go, “So I encourage you: get into that canoe and ride with the river.  Commit and don’t look back, before our bodies can open, they must first let go; the clenched and guarded muscles must relax.  But the mind must let go first.”

Counting

I remember when counting was simple. One, two, three, four, etc. But this week I have been learning to count in Sanskrit. So now it's ekam, dve, trini, catvari...and so on.  I even dream about those numbers! I have become an ashtanga junkie. I love, love, love ashtanga. It's a beautifully humbling practice. Sometimes I get so frustrated because my body won't do the poses that I am asking it to do but I practice still. Sri K. Pattabhi Jois said, "Practice all is coming." Therefore, I continue to practice. Someday I will "float" like my teacher to the top of my mat. I think back to my first ashtanga practice. I thought to myself, "It does not make sense to love a practice that I cannot do!" I stuck with it and can do many things that I once believed impossible. I am posting a video clip of Sri K. Pattabhi Jois teaching students second series ashtanga and yes, counting. Amazing! Hope you enjoy!

A beautiful battlefield...

There are days when I walk to the top of my mat and I am so happy to be there. Ready for my teacher to call out, "Downward Facing Dog" or "Peaceful Warrior." Other days...the days I cry during Savasana, I am not ready to break out that "down dog" and my warrior feels anything BUT "peaceful."

I had one of those "crying during Savasana days" about a week ago. It was just a typical class. However, I had this feeling that maybe I should not go to that particular class that day (always trust that feeling by the way). But I went anyways because I never give in to uncomfortableness in my own body. The moment I walked into the studio, I felt this feeling that made me want to run away. At least three or four times, I contemplated picking up my mat and heading for the door. I did not, though. I stayed and I practiced. I ignored the uncomfortableness in the room. I ignored the sick feeling in my stomach. I ignored the hurt and disappointment that I was feeling. I practiced...I followed my breath...I went from pose to pose.

That day my mat was a beautiful battlefield. It was hard to practice that day. I do have an injury but physical pain can never match emotional pain. This particular day on my mat the battlefield was practicing in a room that once brought me such joy and refuge. Yet, this day, I found myself wanting to be rescued from the room. Rescued from the hurt and disappointment. I battled on my mat that day. I battled my broken heart, I battled my broken hamstring, I battled my disappointment, and I flowed from pose to pose. I stayed and my practice was strong. But at the end of my practice, I found myself silent and still: hamstring hurting so much I could barely breathe and my heart completely broken. So I did what any good yogi would do: I cried. Fortunately, crying during yoga looks a lot like sweating...thank God, right?

I realized that yoga makes me stronger. I accepted that this room that once brought me joy and refuge can also bring me sadness at times. If it wasn't for the sadness, maybe I would not be able to appreciate the joy. I am grateful for both experiences.  I would not change anything. Life is as it should be for this moment. My mat will continue to be a beautiful battlefield. A place where I can battle my pain, frustration, and disappointment, as well as, a beautiful place where I can also celebrate joy. My body will heal and my heart will mend. I am grateful for my mat. I am grateful for the friend who reaches for my hand during Savasana. I am grateful for the room. I am grateful for my teachers who lead me through even the most difficult practices. The beautiful battles on my mat, the tears I cry in Savasana, the exhilarating walk out of the yoga studio...this is why I practice.

Super Flow...

This Friday I begin yoga teacher training. I’m so excited and yet so nervous. I hope I am entering into this journey with the right mindset and heart. Yoga has changed my life: my body has become strong and my heart has become mindful and open. When I’m on my mat, I feel strong, safe, and whole. Tuesday I was taking my regular Super Flow class. During Super Flow, I kept thinking how I wish my teacher would forget about the brutal “third round’ of the class. I was tired, sad, hot and sweaty. During the third round (because he would never forget about the third round), my teacher did do one thing different: he didn’t play any music. At first I thought, “Holy shit, I’ll never be able to get through this without music!” But then I settled into my breath and the flow. Beautifully and sweetly, the third round of Super Flow was over in what seemed like an instant.


That day driving home, I thought about how life is a lot like the third round of Super Flow. Some days we just flow along, moving from one thing to another. And then some days are just plain diabolical. We simply cannot flow. It’s these days that we wish we could skip or forget. Lately I’ve often thought, “It would be nice to just go to sleep and wake up and it be a year later.” So much hurt and disappointment have filled my days over the past few months. So I made a connection with my life right now and that brutal third round of Super Flow: “Beautifully and sweetly, the third round of Super Flow was over in what seemed like an instant.” I realized that this time in my life is certain to pass by, beautifully and sweetly, just like that third round. For now, I will settle into my breath and focus. It is the third round of Super Flow where I learn the most about myself. It’s this third round where my body says, “I can’t” but my heart, passion, and desire wills it to move from pose to pose. So I will continue on through this life of mine-learning life’s lessons, breathing, and willing my body to move from pose to pose.