Enter the Yoga Rock Star

The yoga zone is a place of non-judgment, which is why I thought this post over for about 11 hours before ultimately deciding to go ahead and write it.  The truth is that 99% of the time spent on my mat is spent focusing on no one else but myself.  I don't notice or care what anyone else is doing.  But when one chooses to make a spectacle of one's self, well, it's hard not to notice.  And people, seriously--being noticed on your mat is not what this is all about.

Enter the Yoga Rock Star.

Now mind you, I love yoga, and I love rock stars, but what I have a very hard time stomaching is a Yoga Rock Star.  First and foremost, in my experience the Yoga Rock Star is always a male.  I have no doubt there are females of the type out there as well, but I haven't encountered them.  The Yoga Rock Star is the guy who, as you are laying on your back waiting for class to begin, sets up next to you and decides to do--you know, just as a little warm up--a freaking headstand.

Really?  You warm up with a headstand?  Who does that?

Someone who cares more about looking cool on his mat than he does about anything else, most likely.

I get very, very distracted when some Yoga Rock Star sets up next to me with his fancy Lululemon or Manduka mat, strips off his shirt, and starts showing off.  This one time I was next to a guy who felt the need to kick off into a handstand after every. single. downwardfacingdog.  (And if you've ever been in a vinyasa yoga class, you know there are a lot of downward facing dog poses.)  It is distracting, Yoga Dude!  Please stop!

Listen, folks.  Friends don't let friends be Yoga Rock Stars. And the chicks don't think you're sweet just because you are rockin' it out and dripping sweat all over your mat while the rest of us are just trying to hold a tree pose.  Your rapid movements in my peripheral vision are keeping me from holding my drishti.  No one is here to impress anyone, okay?  Okay.

This is a yogi who also happens to be a rock star.  You are not Adam Levine.  Please stop.  

Practicing Ahimsa. Badly.

“In the presence of one firmly established in non-violence, all hostilities cease.” 

– The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, Sutra II.35

Ahimsa is the first of the Yamas, the yogic discipline of compassion and non-violence, the tenet which calls for us to cause no harm to ourselves or other beings and challenges us to dwell in the absence of pain.  I am afraid I am having trouble with that today.  Today I am in need of grace, as I my feelings are less than pure toward all of you parents who received your childrens' grade cards this week and then posted to Facebook about how many A's your kid got.  

And if the me 10 years ago heard the me today saying that I am made angry, jealous, and sad by your joy, I would really consider myself a complete jerkwad.  An anti-intellectual.  A giant bunch of sour grapes.

See, I was that kid, the "A" kid, when I was in school.  Things came pretty easily for me.  I conformed to rules as expected.  I had minimal emotional outbursts.  I did my homework, I studied for tests, and I loved to read.  I liked to please my teachers.  I raised my hand to answer lots of questions and I rarely ever missed school.  I was a parent's dream.

So I find it really, really hard to understand my autistic child.  I find it hard to understand why he finds school so emotionally tumultuous.  I don't get it when he clams up with anxiety and refuses to act.  I am perplexed when he cannot make simple choices about assignments, nonplussed when he has a meltdown over having to write a couple of sentences, and exasperated when he refuses to do work that I know he is fully capable of doing.  And I am left angry, defeated, and damn near despondent when his report card comes home with the news that this quarter, because he basically sat in the corner of the classroom reading books and generally being avoidant, he has failed all but one subject.  Or rather, his progress was "insufficient"--so he got all "I's," not "F's."  Whew!  That makes me feel better.  

Let me come clean and tell you what the devil on my shoulder wants me to think when I see you post that little Janie got all A's, or little Dickie is at the top of his class.  The little devil wants me to be rude and disparaging, and say that my kid is probably twice as smart as your kid, because my kid can break down words into their Latin roots and problem solve to understand new vocabulary, such as today when he figured out that a geosynchronous satellite will always stay over London, no matter what time of day it is, because it travels in time with (synch) with the earth (geo).  It wants me to say that my kid has a notebook full of inventions he wants to create someday, and that his heroes are Einstein and Tesla, and that he knows that starfish have thousands of tiny feet and that the peregrine falcon is the fastest animal on the planet, diving at up to 260 mph to catch prey, and that he will kick your butt in Minecraft knowledge any day of the week.

But the angel on my other shoulder knows that I should be celebrating with you, just as when my child has victories, I would want you to celebrate with me.  The angel tells me that someday, we will get beyond the need for headphones and sunglasses for sensory processing issues, he will learn to properly interpret social cues, he will learn to manage the anxiety that so often causes him to quit before he even begins, he will ride a bike without training wheels, and he might actually take, and finish, one of those stupid standardized tests so that the school district can have an accurate picture of his abilities for their stupid files.  And the fact that he doesn't do any of those things now isn't anyone else's fault, and it is wrong of me to take out my frustrations about it on other people and their children.  Their perfect children.  Children who get A's and win dance competitions and make home runs and take first place in spelling contests.  

And the angel tells me to be nice to myself, that I can't possibly do any more to help him than I am already doing, that it isn't my fault, and that I need to stop beating myself up over it.  I need to start practicing ahimsa--not just toward you, but toward myself.  

So please forgive me when I don't "like" your status update.  It's not that I don't like your child's successes.  It's that I can't stop seeing your child's successes as failures in my own.   

The Third They Leap

“Yoga is a powerful vehicle for change.
As you build strength, you start to believe in your own potential.”
ㅡ Tiffany Cruikshank | yoga teacher and sports medicine specialist 

I am 13 days into this raw food fast now and let me tell you, there are things that come up.  And out.  My skin is peeling everywhere.  I have a few pimples.  My hair is kinda greasy (which is a new one for me).  My nose will not stop running.  I am irritable over things that shouldn't really annoy me.  And I am a big fat crybaby.  Let me repeat--I am a BIG FAT CRYBABY.  I almost cried on my way to work the other day because I had a sudden feeling of being completely overwhelmed.  I almost cried in yoga class when I realized I could do a pose I'd never been able to do before.  I almost cried when Gavin's cub scout den leader said the next requirement we are working on is writing.... If you know my son, you know that his autism has caused verbal and written language issues that make writing send him into a near panic attack... and to try to make him write?  I've actually had meltdowns of my own trying to get him to do his homework.

Today's crybaby moment was during the sweatiest yoga class of my life.  Sweatiest EVER.  Even my elbows were sweating.  I was wiping my face with my shirt so I could see.  It was ridiculous.  Anyway, something I heard from seasoned rosarians when I first started growing roses was this:  "The first they sleep, the second they creep, the third they leap."  This means that the first year of a rose's growth it doesn't appear to do much.  It "sleeps."  But it isn't really sleeping; it is actually establishing its roots.  The next season, the rose will "creep."  As its roots have taken a firm hold, it can now start to grow upward, bloom a little more, get a little height on it.  But the third season, a rose will "leap."  Suddenly that sucker is all over the place, growing over the trellis or the fence, blooming its damn fool head off, and needing pruned occasionally to keep its health, its shape, and its focus.  You might even have to take the lopping shears to it if its ego gets out of control.

And as cheesy as it sounds, at that moment, standing in trikonasana and trying not slip on my own sweat, I felt like the rose.  Yes, I have just boiled my life down to a trite simile, but I totally mean it.  In my third year of practice, I suddenly feel like I am taking off, on the mat doing poses that used to scare me or that I was not yet capable of doing, and off the mat trying things I would have previously avoided, reacting more positively to things that used to upset me, taking leaps that I would have been too cautious to take before.

So, after a year's worth of deliberation and telling myself that I "can't make it work," I have decided to apply for a yoga teacher training to start in the fall.  I have no idea how I am going to pay for it, when I am going to find the time to do the study for it, or where I am going to ultimately go with it, but I'm going to leap and hope that the net appears.  I'd make a toast to the new me, but I'm fasting so all I can drink is water and herbal tea.

I leave you with Queen Elizabeth, the first rose I ever rooted by myself, and her first ever bloom--the one that finally appeared the year she turned three.

Wish me luck, and Namaste.

My Rosa "Queen Elizabeth," rooted from my husband's mother's rosebush in 2008.

Clearing Out the Junk Drawer; or, Eka Pada Rajakopatasana

I mentioned last week in my post about fasting that one of the reasons we fast is to clear the mind of clutter that gets in the way of our spiritual growth.  So it follows that sometimes when I am doing these cleanses, crap comes up that has been buried for a while.  Last night I had one of those experiences.  Last night, during a very lengthy pigeon pose, my yoga teacher asked us, "If you were to die tomorrow, what would you regret having never done?"

It is highly relevant that I mention the asana because my yogi friends will recognize it as two things:  (1) One of those poses that people either love or hate, and (2) The pose that tends to make people break down and cry.  And my teacher knew the exact moment to ask such a simple, yet poignant, question.  I knew the answer immediately.  But I'll get to that.


Eka Pada Rajakopatasana--Pigeon Pose

Yoga practitioners are keenly aware of the connection between the body and emotions, aware in ways that non-yogis might consider superstitious.  But I'm telling you, this stuff is for real.  Take half pigeon pose.  In her piece entitled "What Your Favorite Yoga Pose Says About You,"  yoga teacher and blogger Lisa Agostoni points out:

"Subtlely, pigeon is connected to both the second (svadhishthana) and fourth (anahata) chakras. The second chakra is located at the sacrum or pelvic basin, and is the seat of our emotions, pleasure and sexuality. The fourth or heart chakra is where we cultivate love, compassion, and self-acceptance."

This pose opens our hips, the place where we tend to carry all kinds of emotional baggage, and in its full expression, our hearts, which we often close off when we should be opening them.  One of my own teachers refers to this pose as the one where we "clean out the [emotional] junk drawer." 

I love this pose. 

So back to me, in this pose, being asked poignant questions about my life.  Drum roll, please:

The thing I would most regret if I were to die tomorrow is that I have never publicly* taken responsibility for my part in the rift that has grown between me and my brother, and I have never told him that I am sorry for anything I said or did that may have hurt him.  I have never told him that I feel regret for all of the hours, days, months, and years spent avoiding him so as to avoid a confrontation.  I have never told him that I regret every word I said or wrote that was devisive.  I have never told him that, if I could back pedal 13 years, I would change the way I reacted to everything.  I have never told him that I am sorry for every ounce of gasoline that I ever threw on a flame, every public appeal I ever made for people to take my side, and every angry thought I ever had toward him and his wife.  So here it is.  This is me, acknowledging that everything is wrecked and that I am partially responsible for that wreckage.

I am clearing out the junk from our past and throwing it all away, and I am opening my heart to you now.

A friend of mine may have lost a brother today.  I am not sure yet--the news is still cryptic.  But what I do know for sure is that life can change in a blink of an eye.  Tomorrow, one of us could be gone.  I'm tired of the wasted years, and I just want to start over.  Bygones are bygones.  All is forgiven.  And all of those other cliches. 

You can call me any time.

 

 

*By "publicly" I mean that I have never admitted to any of this anywhere but in my own heart.

A New Goal

Today I decided that my new goal is to work out and lose enough weight so that my boobs will not constantly be falling out of the top of my shirt when I am in an inversion....or smothering me in halasana.  If you think that was TMI, deal with it.  I'm tired of them getting in the way and I am not willing to do anything unnatural, so this is all the more incentive to really change my habits overall this time and not go back to making oven fries every time I crave greasy foods because I rationalize that if I make it myself, it's good for me.

Vaguely uneventful day here on fast day 1 since this is vegan week so not much has changed for me.  I am amazed that I am not tired because I slept so poorly last night, but I've had two glasses of fresh juice in the place of coffee, which I think really helped.

On the super awesome front, however, is that I got into headstand without using the wall for the FIRST TIME EVER!!  It was so exciting that once I realized I'd done it, I fell over.  What is amazing is that it almost seemed easy.  That takes more core strength than you'd imagine.  I must be getting somewhere.

That's really my only update for today as far as the fasting thing goes, other than that I bought about 3 lbs of grapes for then the sugar cravings start to kick in.  Which will be soon.  Quitting sugar is harder than quitting alcohol, caffeine, or smoking.  I know because I have quit all of them and I'm telling you, sugar is evil evil evil.

Don't trust the sugar man.