What IS it about Yoga?

In March, I will celebrate my sixth anniversary as a yogi. In yoga years, I’m still very much an infant. That’s okay with me, and I believe it to be very true. How is it possible that I have been practicing Bikram yoga for so long, doing the same exact sequence of postures for hundreds of classes and still feel like such a novice?

Last night in class, the teacher said that “Hatha” is the body’s yoga and “Raja” is the mind’s yoga. So, we are working on two things: quieting and focusing the mind and perfecting the body’s expression of each posture through stillness and determination. No easy feat! Another teacher, one of my favorites, says that in Bikram yoga, “Millimeters matter.” I suppose this is true in all areas of life, if you think about it. What he means by this is that your progress is made in wee little baby steps...a fraction of an inch deeper into a posture....holding a pose for just a few seconds longer....staying calm in the face of heat, sweat, distraction for a heartbeat longer. As you gain millimeters, you also gain confidence, willpower, self-reliance. You begin to understand that you are at the very center of things....and that having a quiet, centered mind and a calm body are essential to your work.

It’s amazing to me just how helpful my yoga practice has been in my life. The things I’ve worked through in that hot sweaty room on my 2.5x6’ mat leave me humbled and grateful. And who knew? Who knew I had SO much to work on? Who knew that a yoga practice would reach into so many dark corners, bringing light and hope, illuminating the work to be done, providing encouragement to stick with it and see it through?

I have to wonder: is yoga my religion? It does make me a better person, inside and out. It keeps me honest. It humbles me. Perhaps it’s true that LOVE is my religion, and yoga is both the vehicle and the path of love, to love. I need it. I crave it. Yoga quiets me in a way that nothing else has or can. For me, the combination of a serious body work out and a focusing of the mind through meditation...plus the breathing (THAT’s a practice on its own!)...and of course the heat/sweating...is necessary to break through all the crap that accumulates through daily life. It takes the full 90 minutes to bring me back into alignment, to reset the internal clock.

So...what am I working on as I approach the six year mark in my practice? Letting go. This has been my focus all along, and it’s a good one. The “objects” change as I go along. Right now, I am letting go of the illusion that I need to wipe the sweat off my face with a hand towel during class, and that I need to drink water while practicing. It’s amazing the lies we tell ourselves, the craziness we cling to. One of the wonderful things about my yoga practice is the opportunity to confront these illusions and winnow away at them. Once you begin to recognize a habit as just that, you are able (maybe) to question its reality, to wonder whether it truly serves you. For years, I’ve clung to my towel and my water bottle to get me through class. Now, I am ready to listen to what the instructor has probably been saying all along: water won’t help, wiping your sweat will bring more sweat. That’s another thing about doing the same practice over and over....when you FINALLY have ears to hear whatever lesson is “next” for you, there it is. Your yoga practice is like a labyrinth, taking you past the same guideposts and markers over and over again as you travel the path, offering you the opportunity to learn this or that when you are ready. The repetition is necessary. So...I’m down to a maximum of 4 sips of water each class. And I’m learning that I don’t even need it, that I’m still clinging to it a little. I am learning to trust. The towel is still there, and I use it when I can’t see through the sweat dripping in my eyes or to wipe my hands before a posture so I can get a firmer grip. But I don’t rely on it between every posture, I don’t cling to it as “necessary” to my practice.

You might be thinking, “Who even cares? It’s just water....it’s just a towel. What could it possibly matter?” You are correct....it’s just water. It’s just a towel. These are objects. It’s the CLINGING that I’m working through. I am learning to let go and be still. I am learning that the only thing I need in that 105 degree room is my breath....in and out....steady as I go. It’s crazy-simple, but oh so complicated inside one’s mind, yes? Yes.

I’m not always as faithful as I’d like to be in my yoga practice. The hardest part is getting myself into the car. Once I’m on the way, the most challenging aspect is already behind me. It doesn’t matter what happens in the practice room....whether I do a particular posture well or terribly....whether I am happy, sad, angry, frustrated. I’m always glad I made it to my mat. There is always a gift waiting to be discovered. It’s a beautiful, hard-won, difficult, wonderful relationship....with myself. Namaste.

Thoughts on Loss and Living...

Just before Thanksgiving, my world was shaken by death and illness. A beloved grandmother, 87 years old, passed quietly....a beautiful life coming to a close as is natural and expected. Kay Cullenberg was the mother of 13 and grandmother of 33, every one of whom truly believed he or she was the favorite.

A customer and friend (they are ALL friends...), just 47 years old, passed quietly in her sleep, surprising and stunning those who loved and cared for her. Lynn Watson Potter posted a daily note on her Facebook page, sharing with us what she was grateful for....oftentimes naming something as simple as her warm bed.

A mother (my own) struggled in the grip of powerful pain, took to her bed, tearful and afraid. Valerie Conaway suffered quietly, unable to eat, losing 20 pounds, yet unwilling to seek medical attention because she is without health insurance.

A long-distance writing pal, the active mother of three, gave up both breasts, surrendering them to breast cancer in exchange for her life. Betsy Voreacos struggled with feelings of guilt over opting for the more drastic and invasive double mastectomy when a lumpectomy may have been enough to stop the cancer’s spread.

All of these endings and challenges others are experiencing, understandably, have caused me to take stock. How have I lived? HAVE I lived, truly? And...if I haven’t lived, what the heck am I waiting for?

Christmas is now barking at our heels and I’m wondering if I will, once again, fall into step with most of the modern world and spend money I don’t have to purchase presents the recipients may or may not need or desire. Is there a way to express my love and appreciation for family and friends other than this? Am I brave enough to let go and try something new?

Lynn died without life insurance. My own mother has no health insurance!! My friend lost her breasts.

I want to be kinder, gentler....with my children, my husband, my dogs and my friends.

I want to know how others are suffering and how I can help.

I want my children and family to remember me after I go as a person who cared and dared.

In the short-term, I may anger my children...who have grown accustomed to having everything they could ever want, wrapped up and shiny under the tree. In a larger sense, though, I would be leading by example. Maybe someday my son and my stepkids will say, “She taught me to look beyond myself” or “She understood what was most important in life.”

Isn’t it true that we are each writing our own obituary every day of our lives? Doing what feels right and good in the deepest part of your soul may leave you out on a limb. There are always risks....always consequences...with the important decisions we make as we move through life. This holiday season, and hopefully well beyond it, I am challenging myself to do what my soul requires, leading with my heart.

My friend Lynn taught me to be grateful for the little things.

My son’s Grammie taught me to shower each person I love with real attention.

My mother, in her quiet suffering, is teaching me to pay closer attention to the silences of others...to check in and ask what’s wrong, what’s needed, how I can help.

My pal Betsy is teaching me to put myself first when it really matters, guilt be damned.

I feel so full and so blessed to be awake enough, present enough, to receive their gifts. I want to help. I want to give back and pay forward. I want to live fully every single day. After all....we just don’t know how or when each of our stories will come to a close. Today, I just might lead with my heart and turn the corner onto a road less traveled, hoping it will, indeed, make all the difference.