Thoughts on Human Touch in the Practice of Yoga

There’s a quote by Virginia Axline that goes something like, “We are all doing the best that we can, and when we can do better, we will.” This quote has been on my mind in my yoga classes a lot lately and it seems to fit so many situations that are occurring with me and around me.

In late summer, a favorite instructor returned to our studio and with her came a special energy that is unlike any other I’ve experienced in my six year practice. Kristen isn't afraid to put her hands on people, to connect with her students in service of

deepening their practice. In our “hands off” culture, this strikes me as both an intensely brave and incredibly loving gesture on her part. The first time Kristen touched me in practice was during her final class before moving to New Mexico a few years ago. During the belly-down series, we rest between postures face-down on our mats. Kristen went around the room and used her toes to massage a number of students’ toes as they rested. I was filled with such an intense feeling of being loved and honored unconditionally as a human being that I was almost brought to tears....and I never forgot the feeling.

Occasionally, Kristen would return to Maine to visit family and friends and she’d pop in at our studio to teach a class. I’m sure I’m not the only one who looked forward to her visits and rescheduled life events to try and be there for her class. It’s so rare, these days, to be able to connect with other human beings on a safe, physical level. Who would’ve thought I’d find such a loving kindness in the hot yoga room?

I’ve been practicing Bikram yoga for quite a few years now, and I’ve seen many instructors come and go. We are all individuals and benefit from different teaching styles, but I have always gravitated toward those teachers who push with love....who seem to realize we are all doing the best that we can. No judgments, no shame...only encouragement and technical advice to make our bodies and minds tune in. It’s been helpful to remind myself that my instructors, too, are doing the best that they can....and that when they can do better, they will. Clearly, there have been times when I’ve noticed that a teacher is not at his or her best...seeming worn out, frustrated, irritated. We are all human beings, after all. Life is not easy for any of us.

Another of my favorite instructors counsels us often, "Don't let anyone (or anything) steal your peace." He's referring to the

distractions that undoubtedly follow one into the studio...and the distractions that sometimes set up their yoga mats beside or behind you. Sometimes, though, that advice also applies to the instructor that is teaching the class. There have been times lately when my frustration with a teacher has threatened to derail my practice and it’s been hard to remain in the room. That’s got to be one of the worst feelings for me. I’ve gotten myself to this very hot studio to practice a very difficult form of yoga. I’m doing the best that I can and feel like everyone else in the room is a rock star, too, just for showing up and TRYING. Patience goes both ways, I suppose.

That’s one of the reasons I appreciate Kristen’s approach to our practice so much. I completely resonate with her energy. She’s a tough teacher and doesn’t let anyone off the hook....but there is an underlying thread of loving kindness and unconditional positive regard that leaves us all feeling good about ourselves and whatever effort we put forth on that particular day. No judgments, no shame. And she gets herself around the room to physically connect with as many of us as she can, offering a gentle adjustment to a shoulder, a push on the lower back, a

lifting of the legs just to show someone what it would feel like to “get there” on her own, or a gentle toe massage just when you need it most. Every single person in the room is sweaty, stinky, tired and often pushed to our limits. That our instructor offers a kind, safe touch at that particular time....when we are often at our worst...is particularly amazing.

I am ever-grateful for having found Bikram yoga, and feel incredibly fortunate that though we have just a single studio in Maine, it’s right here in my own community. And I feel so blessed to have been touched by Kristen and other instructors like her, who seem to know instinctively that we all need unconditional love and that human touch can be safe and healing. Namaste.

Loving Through the Lens

Lately, my photography has been bringing me so much joy, and isn’t it important in this crazy life to have something you can always rely on to light your fire, something you can turn to for comfort, enjoyment, enrichment, connection? Creative pursuits have been an important passion for me for as long as I can remember. From playing with crayons (I used to melt them and mix the colors) as a child to dancing as a teen to sewing quilts as a young mother to writing stories and poetry throughout my life - having an outlet for my creativity has made for a richer, more grounded life.

When I look through the lens of my camera, I “see” differently. Maybe I’m focusing with my macro lens on something minute and obscure that I’d otherwise miss altogether....like the fuzz on a bumblebee...or the curious pattern of swirls and divots on the face of a full moon...or the intensity of the color fuschia when expressed by a purple coneflower. Again and again, I am humbled and stunned by the beauty all around me and I’ve grown attached to that feeling, craving it more and more. It’s not uncommon for my husband to lose track of me on a summer night and find me crouched behind the hydrangea or brown-eyed Susans, camera-to-face. He knows, in those moments, that I am completely happy and in my element. I can tell by the smile on his face as he quietly walks away and leaves me be.

Look through the lens of your camera enough and you may begin to see the world differently even when your camera is resting in its case. I become delighted with the chocolate skin and incredibly dark eyes of a sweet African-American child at the local House of Pizza....enchanted with the weathered, knot-knuckled, age-spotted hands of a farmer at the weekly farmer’s market....jazzed up by the play of colors and textures in bundles of yarn stuffed into cubbies at a yarn shop. “Oh,” I think, “if only I had my camera with me.”

I know that for many, snapping photos is an annoyance. I’ve heard friends remark that they want to experience the sunset or the flower for themselves and not have to share it with others.

For them, a camera ruins the experience. For me, the sharing is part of the excitement, as is the act of capturing what I see. Sometimes, I’m unable to translate my vision into a photograph. The light isn’t right, my skills aren’t quite good enough...and the moment passes quietly. But, oh...how I live for those moments when scanning through downloads of my work and I happen upon something truly perfect. I cannot wait to share the beauty I’ve recorded, to play it back for you.

There’s the opportunity, too, lately to find the beauty in a person and release it and then capture it with my camera. Being fully present...calm and relaxed...with a person I’m photographing often brings this magic to the surface. Being silly and whimsical also helps draw a person out. And when you succeed in translating what is most vulnerable, precious and lovely about a person into a photograph, well....the feeling is pretty amazing, I’ve found....for the photographer, the subject and the audience as well.

I suppose I like to connect with people through art and photography is my latest way of doing so in a deeply meaningful manner. A soulful photograph, perhaps something in black and white, speaks to you of relationship, of depth, of sorrow or joy. And we connect, you and I, through an image I’ve created or captured. You "see" it your own way, adding yet another dimension to the experience. It’s a beautiful thing and it never seems to get old for me.

Practice makes perfect?

Participating in a 4-hour posture clinic at my yoga studio this weekend gave me more than just my asanas to ponder. I’ve been practicing Bikram yoga for over six years now, and you’d think I’d have it down. The truth is that practice doesn’t necessarily make perfect. As my astute yoga teacher Michael said, sometimes “practice makes permanent,” so taking a look at one’s practices is always a good thing.

I’m expanding my thinking about the things I practicewell beyond my yoga mat. I practice my job skills. I have become habitual in my relationship with my husband, son and others. As I learned in the posture clinic, sometimes (painfully often for me, in fact) my practice is skewed and isn’t serving me as well as I’d like to think. Hmmm....these are big “ah ha!” moments to be having on a Monday.

I’ve been suffering lately with a couple of injuries. As attention was brought to my body mechanics in getting into and out of different poses (asanas), I realized I wasn’t lining up my hips correctly....or I was yanking my shoulder back unnecessarily...or my back was arched when I thought I was tucking my tail. My interpretation of the verbal directions of the instructor weren’t translating appropriately from my mind to my body parts and this was causing pain and injury to certain joints. Oh, sure...I might’ve been able to get my leg a little higher in Standing Bow, and I might’ve been able to hold the pose for the whole ten seconds in Balancing Stick, but at what price? I wasn't even doing the postures correctly!! What I had to face head-on in the posture clinic is that I’m kind of a control freak perfectionist.

Ugh. That is so hard to even write. I left the posture clinic and had a few tears in the car over that realization. Me. A control freak perfectionist. The label is self-imposed, and yes, I’m hard on myself. But....I was really blown away by how my zest for perfection in the postures had led me to stop truly listening to my body, and how my months and years ofdoing the same practice over and over had led me to stop truly listening to the instructions. Sometimes in yoga and in life, we need to go back to the beginning and start again -- even (and maybe especially) when we think we’ve got it all down perfectly.

The posture clinic gave participants time and attention and hands-on instruction from our teachers which isn’t possible during regular classes. We got into a posture and they “fixed” us, adjusting our hips and feet and arms the way they are supposed to be. We, in turn, attempted to memorize what these adjustments felt like. For me, much of the fine tuning left me unable to fully express a particular posture the way I was used to. My years of “practice” were tossed out the window and I had to return to the very beginning, with a beginner’s mind, and start from scratch....only going as far into a pose as I was able to while doing it correctly. This is what caused my inner control freak to melt down, as I realized that I’m not so great at this yoga thing....even after six years of trying.

Given time to think this through, I’ve come to a place of acceptance that this is where I’m at. It’s actually very transformative to start fresh. In the case of my yoga practice, my body is already responding with relief to the adjustments. Less pain is a good thing. And I’m wondering, now, about the ways I have done the very same thing - practicing the same old habits - in other areas of my life. In my work with the pups, I am learning that I am at my best when I give my full attention to my students, when I allow their present needs to shape the day rather than thinking my past experience is the best guide. In my relationship with my husband, we hit a huge wall when the kids started departing for college. The way we shaped and practiced our daily lives had to shift and change now that there weren’t sporting and school events drawing us away from each other. We had to start from scratch and begin relating anew. Thankfully, we got back in touch with the love that brought us together in the first place and were able to begin a new and different chapter of life together....because the ways we’d practiced relating, our patterns and habits, just weren’t cutting it for either of us any longer.

I’ve heard it said many times that “change is the only constant” and it seems pretty accurate. As I look at my yoga practice and make some necessary changes, I’m finding that embracing change can be a lovely, loving thing to do. Back on my mat last night for the first time after the clinic, I was careful with my body and I approached each posture with a beginner’s mind. Instead of trying to be great at this or that posture....or giving up when I learned how imperfect my postures actually were...I just allowed myself to practice....to start fresh and approach each posture as if I was doing it for the first time. I gave myself permission to slow down, breathe, and be fully in my body and in the moment, whatever that moment brought and whatever my body was capable of right then.

In my relationship with Michael, we are learning to hold on and let go in equal measure. Many ways of relating and sharing life needed to be thrown out the window as we transitioned to a (somewhat) empty nest.

Other habits and practices needed development so that we could feel more like a married couple and less like two robots fulfilling the needs and wants of four children, etc and so on. We are learning that practice does, indeed, make permanent if you’re not very careful and open-minded and inquisitive. Change is going to happen anyway...but looking at your practices and habits might transform things in a direction that was otherwise unexpected.

Tonight, I’ll be returning to my mat with an open, calm and inquisitive mind.....and leaving my control freak perfectionist persona outside the door to pace back and forth and chew her nails to her heart's content.

On loving oneself with food...

Lately I've been paying closer attention to my relationship with food. It's not something I want to do and it does NOT come easily, but I'm determined to take responsibility for my eating habits. I suppose the time will come in each of our lives when our eating catches up with us in one way or another, forcing us to take a look at how we're treating our bodies, fueling ourselves for whatever journey we happen to be on at a particular time in our lives.

When I was just a baby of 23 and carrying a baby of my own, I was careful for those nine months to feed myself foods that would help build a strong, healthy baby. Because I was responsible for the making of another human being, I treated my body well. During my months of nursing the baby, the same was true....but once that was over, I was back to my old habits and ways. Now, all these years later, I'm asking myself if I'm capable of loving myself as much as I loved my baby. The answer is slippery and amorphous. My relationship with food prefers to remain hidden in the shadows and is resistant to close examination. I imagine most addictive relationships ARE, right? Because....that's what we're talking about here: a relationship of addiction, at least that's what's been surfacing for me as I draw my attention to this unexamined area of my life.

I love my food and I'm ambivalent as hell about giving any of it up. My sour cream, my mayonnaise, my cheese and my pasta and my bread. There's an attachment to these delights whose grip clings ever tightly. My secret stash of chocolate in the nightstand drawer calls to me after a long, exhausting day of work, inviting me to have just a bite (or ten) as I tune out in front of the TV and relax. And a hot soak in the tub is nothing without a small glass of iced Bailey's Irish Cream. We reward ourselves, celebrate our accomplishments, drown our sorrows....by reaching for something to eat or drink. Over and over and over again, our families, friends, co-workers invite us to share a meal, a cup of coffee, a slice of cake. It's the American way to spread out

the buffet and gorge ourselves in celebration, yes? We "biggie size" everything and then wonder why all of US are now biggie sized as well. So tell me, how will I fit in if I take responsibility for what goes into my mouth?

And take responsibility I simply MUST. I am deeply unhappy with the current state of my body. I do not want to carry around extra weight. I do not want my movement restricted by flesh when I am trying chase a puppy down. I abhor tight clothing holding me back, hemming me in. My relationship with food has cost me the freedom I formerly had....freedom of movement, yes, but another sort of freedom as well. I used to feel good about my physical body. I was comfortable in my clothing and confident in my appearance. I could go running in shorts without feeling a sense of shame and embarrassment that someone would be disgusted by the sight of my thighs. It seems cruelly ironic that I'm contemplating giving up my comfort (food) when so many other things are falling by the wayside due to the natural aging process. What a vulnerable time. Wrinkles. Gray, dull hair. Aches and pains. The threat of menopause. Reaching for a donut seems like it would make me feel so much better. I could lose myself in the taste of sweet jelly on my tongue and powdered sugar on my lips, drown my sorrow for a moment. Wash it down with a latte.

But alas...my donut days might be over. I've been paying attention to my food choices for a few months now, getting ever more serious about it as the weeks tick away and I build awareness of my patterns (and bathing suit season threatens). It takes a whole lot of mindfulness, staying present, when it comes to making better choices about what to eat. Sometimes, the effort overwhelms me. It's hard to feed yourself well!! I have a million (valid)

excuses. You have to think about recipes and calorie content and then you have to shop so that you are prepared when it's time to get a meal together. And I'm ashamed to admit that I've become lazy about it, opting to eat out or grab some take-out when I'm exhausted rather than face the kitchen and prepare a meal. But working out is no longer enough to keep me in good physical shape. And my relationship with exercise is a whole OTHER issue (for a later blog....I can only take so much at a time).

So....back to the point of this blog. It's about loving yourself. That's the bottom line, at least for me. Believe me, it's a very hard, sad truth to admit that underneath my relationship with food is a woman who does not love herself enough to treat herself better. Don't poo-poo it away. It's my truth and I can and will face it. I'm gonna learn to love myself enough to stay in control of what I offer myself for fuel. I have a very busy life and I need better fuel so that I'm not tired, sluggish, sick. Making time to choose delicious fresh fruits, vegetables and grains is a way to honor and care for myself. Allowing myself to delight in an evening of preparing and sharing a healthy, home-cooked meal nourishes more than my tummy.

As I've embarked on this journey to take responsibility for my eating, some wonderful things

have been happening. Michael and I are losing weight....slowly but steadily. We are spending more quiet time together in the evening. We're saving money because we're eating in rather than stressing about finding healthy foods on a restaurant menu. We are celebrating our successes with mindful and moderate choices: a single glass of wine, asingle scoop of ice cream. On days when we've been hard at work and haven't made time to plan ahead for our next meal, we've found it challenging to stick with healthy choices. We've taken steps backward, felt badly....and moved forward again with renewed resolution to stay on the path.

Maybe lots of you have been on this journey for a long time....or all of your life. I grew up too skinny and I ate everything I wanted and more, lamenting over not having hips or boobs. As a child, I was offered Cap'n Crunch and Devil Dogs for breakfast and Spaghetti O's from a can for lunch. Now, as a mature (ha) middle aged woman, I've got to figure out stuff I really don't want to pay attention to. But I'm doing it. It's good for me and I'll get used to it. But it'll take a while. And I'll feel sad and edgy and even angry at times....as I notice the "wants" and the habits of a lifetime of eating bad shit. Many times, I'm able to feel the feelings, notice...and do nothing. When I resist the urge to reach into the nightstand drawer for my chocolate or my Twizzlers tonight while

losing myself in the mindlessness of another episode of The Bachelorette, I will grow just a little bit stronger. I am learning what I'm made of. I'm loving myself a little more each day.

Once Upon A Time, There Was You

Elizabeth Berg somehow manages to publish a novel once each year. I don’t know how she does it, but I know this: her stories are amazing. It’s not that they are complicated or clever. Quite the opposite is true, in fact. She is able to create a wonderfully deep and interesting novel about....nothing. I’m serious. Her stories are about the most ordinary of people, folks just like you and me. The characters aren’t sexy or strong or rich. They are...normal. Their problems, conflicts and joys are run-of-the-mill, just like you’d find in your life or mine. Some get divorced and some stay happily married. Some struggle with cancer and others with growing older. I suppose this is exactly what I love about Elizabeth Berg’s novels - they are approachable, easily digestible, and yet...they make me feel things very deeply. That is her greatest gift: the ability, through writing, to elicit emotion in the reader.

Last night, I was reading in bed as my husband pretended to watch the Bruin’s game. (I say pretend because his eyes were closed.) In any event, there I was curled up against the pillows with my iPod reading along as one of my characters was sharing with her dinner date something that had happened to her that day. This character had watched a woman sitting on the commuter bus crying. All the passengers could see the tears running down the woman’s face and the woman was just sitting quietly with her hands in her lap allowing her tears to flow. Then, a 50-something male passenger came and sat next to the woman and placed his arm around her shoulder and just stared straight ahead. The character was so moved by this small act of kindness. It gave her hope in humanity and made her feel that we’re all connected. And it made me cry.

Yesterday was a hard day for me, so the tears were easy in coming. I just felt sad. Maybe it was Monday-itis after a warm, sunny weekend...but after reading that passage and sharing it with my husband, I began to wonder if that heavy sadness I’d been feeling throughout the day was more than that. It’s true that I tend to have these bouts of heavy heartedness now and again, without cause or explanation....sort of a recurring tug on my heart strings. Last night, Elizabeth Berg’s writing helped me to realize that what I may be feeling is a longing for connection, for that sense of belonging in the world.

I don’t talk about it much, but I had a pretty sad childhood in a lot of ways. I wasn’t a “wanted” child, and my needs, both physical and emotional, went unmet much of the time. Perhaps this transient feeling of sadness and disconnection, this sometimes intense longing for an elusive something is related to those early experiences, sort of like a very long arm reaching out from my childhood and tugging on me, leaving me rattled and off kilter. I shared these thoughts with my husband and he seemed to understand. It felt good to be held and kissed on the top of my head as I let my own hot tears flow.

I am ever-grateful for writers like Elizabeth Berg. She writes about ordinary, everyday life through characters we can relate to. Some of us need a good novel to help us access our own feelings and thoughts, to process things we’ve been through, looking at things through a different lens. Good literature, music, movies, art - these are the mediums that help me appreciate humanity, mine and other’s. A simple story, a poem, a song. Sometimes, these are my salvation. I’m hopeful, too, that my own “art” might touch others. A photograph, a journal entry....the simple sharing of words and images. You just never know who needs your touch, even though it’s scary to reach out, to open up. We need each other. That much I know is true.

Being Here Now...

"Your worst enemy cannot harm you as much

as your own unguarded thoughts."

The Buddha

Perhaps one of the many reasons I adore music lies in its ability to bring me completely into the present moment. Think about what happens to you when you hear one of your favorite songs. I might sing along if I’m in the car but at home I can’t resist the urge to get up and dance (especially if it’s a Black Eyed Peas song), no matter if I’m in my pajamas at 6 a.m. or outside in the snow with the dogs listening on my iPod. Dance I must....and dance I do.

When I allow the music to move me, everything else falls away. Problems stop gnawing at me. Thoughts cease to pester as I give in to what’s happening in the immediate moment. I don’t worry about how I look or whether I’m “good” at this or that dance move. With no censorship, I allow myself to simply "be."

Sometimes I’m able to let go like this in my Bikram yoga class as well. There is no past and no future: suddenly, as I am attempting to pull one leg up over my head while balancing on the other, I am in The Zone. My gaze is steady in the mirror. My breath is moving in and out through my nose. The room can be full of hot, sweaty people, yet I remain composed and completely absorbed in expressing the beauty of this particular posture to the fullest of my ability. And then it’s over. That posture, good....bad....or lovely, is now in the past.

I suppose, as a human being, my most important practice lately is attempting to Be Here Now. It’s so easy not to truly be present. My mind is often overactive, attempting to fill my consciousness with a million thoughts....past hurts, future “to do” lists, reruns of this or that event. I am learning to notice these thoughts and let them go. By doing this, I open up the present and become witness to what is occurring right here, right now.

"To the mind that is still, the whole universe surrenders."

Lao Tzu

The more I am able to Be Here Now, the better I feel. There is a sense of calm....clarity....deep peace. Often, I pull myself back to the Now by asking a simple question when a thought starts to gain a foothold: is it happening NOW? Let’s say I’m hung up on some past hurt or injury a person has caused me. Asking myself, “Is it happening NOW?” reminds me that it’s inconsequential. There’s nothing I can DO about it. It’s in the past, and if I spend my present moment rehashing it or emoting over it, then I lose the only thing that is truly “mine”...this moment, right here and right now.

This is my understanding of Enlightenment. I welcome activities that support and encourage a focus on the immediate. Being in nature. Engaging in yoga. Dancing. Writing. Photography. Art or craft of any sort. Cooking. These are all activities that bring me face to face with The Now. Certainly, my work with puppies and dogs also empowers me to Be Here Now. Dogs instinctively live in the Now. They don’t dwell. They don’t hold grudges. They just deal with what’s going on around them and, in my experience, try to have fun with it. They are good teachers for me.

Today, I am asking myself, "What can I do with THIS moment?" Action is immediate....one moment at a time.

Can I be done now?

“Hello. My name is Julie and I’m a dryaholic.” Huh? Alright, alright....maybe they don’t have meetings for us yet, but I’m STILL a dryaholic and I may need help to stop drying. My hair. Don’t laugh! It’s not funny. I’ve been drying my damn hair for several decades. Can I be done now?

Here’s the thing: my hair is getting older. It’s TRUE! And it’s decided that it likes being curly now. In addition to being GRAY. I know...the NERVE, right? Doesn’t matter how I try to coax it, the minute I step away from the mirror, there it goes -- kinking this way and that. I’m sick of fighting with it, and for what? Because I want it to be straight and well-behaved? It’s time to face it: my hair is a wild rebel at heart.

I know I shouldn’t be asking if I can be done now. The easy answer is YES, of course I can be done now. I could’ve been “done now” years ago. The problem is that I’m a weakling. I think my hair doesn’t look right or perfect or good unless I’ve fussed with it for a half hour. Okay, maybe it’s more like 45 minutes now that it’s gotten so rebellious. First, there’s the crazy-expensive conditioner that I slather on it in the shower. The container says to use a teaspoon. I use more like a half cup! Then I’ve gotta wait five extra minutes while the product attempts to talk some sense into the curls. After the towel-drying, I’ve got to squirt it down with some miracle leave-in conditioner just so I can get a wide-toothed comb through it. And then we’re onto another very expensive Morroccan oil product for smoothing and some sort of creamy gel stuff for straightening. And I haven’t even TOUCHED the blow dryer yet!

The actual blow drying is a whole other event. I have three (yes...THREE) brushes that I use. I know, I know. It’s ridiculous! But if I want to tame the rebel, every bit of this is necessary, I swear. I’ve got this super duper round brush that can really kick some...er....hair. This brush is so big and so round. You stretch the hair over it and blow the heck out of it. And then there’s this other round brush that is what they call “vented.” This allows the air to flow right through the brush. There are appropriate times and conditions for this brush as well. Lastly, I’ve got your basic everyday brush that comes in handy if Rebel Hair needs a little more coaxing near the end of the process. Good Lord, this is scaring even ME now that I’m writing it all down and admitting to it. I guess this paragraph and the one previous to it are part of Step Four of the Twelve Steps of AA, where you make a fearless and searching inventory of yourself. Yikes!

There’s more to this process that involves flat irons, curling irons and two kinds of hair spray, but I won’t bore you with the details. What it all boils down to, though, is that the actual BLOW DRYING is the root of all the other evils. If I can just manage to give that up, most (okayyyy, all!) of the other stuff won’t be necessary...no need for fancy conditioners and oils and brushes. No need to pull it, prod it, poke it and fry it. I’ll just be stepping from the shower, toweling it dry and maybe fluffing it a bit with my fingers. Who wouldn’t want to give up the blow dryer, then?

ME!!! I’ll have to take this slow...maybe drying just the bangs for a while. Or maybe I could give up the brushes first and just use the dryer for like....five minutes....just to fluff it up? I did a very scary thing today: I did a trial run of the above, just a little bang dry and a little fluffing. Guess what? No one died. No one shrieked and ran, bug-eyed, in the opposite direction after seeing me at the grocery store. My husband (God bless him) has tried his very very best to give me lots of “feedback” on the new look. His first comment, as he peeked at me over the Sunday paper, was “Wow, it didn’t seem like it took you very long to dry your hair today.” Just like that, I was forced to take Step One of AA: I admitted I had a problem and that I was powerless over it, that my life had become unmanageable. I told Mike I was sick of fighting with my hair and that I was trying to overcome my sick and twisted need to blow dry it. Oy. Now he knows!

When I came home from the grocery store (where nobody died and nobody ran...), Mike made note of the red highlights he’d never noticed in my hair when it was straight. God, I love this lying bastard! I mean...you’ve GOT to admit, that was a pretty creative statement for a man, right?! We’ll give him that.

Later, after I took a nap with the husband and dogs, I looked in the mirror and here’s what I noticed: my hair looked none the worse for hitting the hay, and may have even looked slightly better than before I’d crawled in for that nap. Really? I could get used to this. I ran a pick (larger than a comb) through it, scrunched it a few times in my fists and took my doggies for a walk, hair bouncing happily around my head.

Day One of my recovery is fast coming to a close. As I sit here contemplating whether it’s worth it to keep up this cold-turkey-from-the-blowdryer stint, I’m reviewing the history of me and my hair since the day in my early teens when I actually started to care about what it looked like. I’m remembering how my mom’s very French friend, Jackie, used to be coaxed into giving two or three Veilleux girls (there were FIVE of us!) Lilt home perms on a Saturday night back in the early 80’s. And didn’t we ADORE the look of a freshly-permed hairdo, even if it was a little fuzzy around the ears? I’m remembering how my Aunt Weazie gave me my first Dorothy Hamill haircut, my first shag....my first highlights. More recently, I'm realizing ALL that I put my hair through, now that it's graying...poor little wisps. They're tired of all the bullshit.

Me and my hair, we’ve been through a lot. I suppose if it wants so desperately to be curly now, I should just go along with it. Who’s going to care anyway? The dogs love me no matter what. And my husband is a fabulous liar. I guess I can "be done" now. We'll see how long this recovery lasts... I'll keep you posted.

When Your Husband Shows Up At Yoga...

After six years of pretty much having my yoga studio to myself, my husband has decided that he’s now a Yogi too. Not only does he go to classes with me, he sometimes goes all by himself! What’s a girl to do when her husband has set up his 2x6-foot piece of real estate twelve inches from her own? Don’t get me wrong -- I’m all for “togetherness” in a relationship, but I have to wonder: how much is too much?

Last night we were reading in bed and he quoted a few lines from a book he’s reading by Dr. Wayne Dyer....it was some comment about Bikram YOGA! Apparently the wise Dr. Dyer is now a Yogi too. This just further bolsters the husband’s conviction that the time has arrived for him to become a mellow gumby like his wife. Oh goody!

The truth is that Mike and I do get along really well. After 14 years together, we still actually enjoy and prefer each other’s company to pretty much anyone else’s. Neither of us is into “girl time” or “boys night out.” He doesn’t have a Man Cave and I don’t attend Stitch & Bitch meetings. And that enjoyment of each other has always included our athletic pursuits. We jog together and run road races side by side. We hike and swim and bike and occasionally we even raid the bank account to down-hill ski together. So...what’s the big deal if he hones in on “my” yoga?

I’ve been doing this hot yoga thing for thousands of classes. Twenty-six postures, each done twice, over the course of 90 minutes in a room heated to 105% and controlled for high humidity. That’s why they call it “practice,” because we’re doing the same thing over and over and over again. I’ve worked through COUNTLESS things in this room, letting go of one habit or behavior after another: My need to be perfect. My hatred and loathing of the size and shape of certain body parts. Obsessing over the best pants or top for the heat. Wiping sweat from my face. Guzzling water. After all these years, you’d think I’d be running out of stuff to work on, but the list is just endless. And now, having the husband in the room has added more things to my List of Things To Let Go Of.

I see the little corrections I’d like to make in his postures so they’d flow more easily for him, so he wouldn’t have to work quite so hard. I tune in when he’s holding his breath, breathing too hard, huffing and puffing, etc. Bottom line is....I worry about him. And then there’s all the talk before class and after class. The analysis of every pose, the heat, the humidity. Before Mike started coming, it was, “how was class?” and “fine” covered it. Now, it’s, “So, in Standing Bow, did you see how much further I could lift my knee this time?” and “Did it seem unusually hot in there tonight, or was it just me?”

Beyond that, I REALLY worry sometimes. I mean, this Bikram yoga is no joke....it’s freakin’ HOT in there. And, well....Mike....isn’t quite as athletically inclined as I am. So, he was late coming home from a class the other night. I called his phone. No answer. TWICE. This is what it looks like inside my head at a time like this: Mike has had a heart attack IN CLASS. They’ve rushed him via ambulance to the hospital. No one has thought to CALL me!!! Five minutes of pacing later, he walks in the door looking a bit flushed but very mellow and not at all in the aftermath of a major cardiac event. He’s had a great class and wants to tell me ALL about it.

I suppose there are worse things..... But I’ll tell you this: I’m sure gonna make certain that I’m on the next mat over whenever that boy practices for a while. It’s easier to keep track of him that way. Letting go will take a while....

The Lies We Tell...

I’ve been giving a lot of thought lately to the lies I tell myself. This behavior has become habitual and automatic. If left unchecked and accepted without question, these lies are often harmful and addictive and muck up my daily round, leaving me sad, frustrated and generally unhappy. Here are a few examples:

I can’t go to yoga tonight because my back hurts, I didn’t drink enough fluids today, my favorite pants aren’t clean (insert many more reasons here).

I’m fat and ugly and wrinkly and old (insert other yucky descriptives here).

My son doesn’t appreciate me.

My husband doesn’t pay attention to me.

My dogs only like me because I feed them.

I’ll never get out of debt.

My business is going to fail.

Are you getting the picture? It’s painful to write these things down....but I have to admit that I’ve had all of these thoughts (some of them OFTEN), as unattractive as they may be. Are they true? They are if I LET them be....if I give them space in my mind to take root, fester and grow.

A few years back, a friend turned me on to the work of Eckhart Tolle, spiritual teacher and author of The Power of Now and A New Earth. Tolle’s advice is simple: learn to ignore your ego. Applying his advice? I’ve been working on THAT for years. Ignoring my ego has first involved becoming aware of it and how it is affecting the quality of my life. By “ego,” Tolle means that little (or not so little...) voice inside your head that is constantly feeding you judgmental messages about everyone and everything. Tolle teaches that being present in the “now” helps you build awareness of your ego. As I have increased my ability to be present and aware, I have begun to notice how my ego is working against me.

I’m sure that one’s ego is helpful in some ways, but mostly I’ve found that my ego is NOT my friend. It’s always seeking to inflate or deflate me. I’ve found it very helpful to practice mindful presence as a way of quieting the voice of my ego, taking away its power and reclaiming my own. I’ve really had to come to an understanding that my ego is separate from the true essence of who I am. It’s so easy to believe that my ego is “me”....but it’s not. I am the observer. The ego is a voice, most often negative, that wants to steal my peace. The ego seeks to attach meaning to everything happening around me, usually negative or judgmental. He or she is bad....this or that is painful.... I am learning to question those ego messages and toss them out as often as possible. I’ve been totally amazed and blown away by just how toxic my thoughts are!

Noticing....that’s the first step. Questioning...that’s the second step. Banishing...that’s the third step. Here’s an example from this morning: It is really cold outside...subzero. My ego has been tossing up all sorts of negative statements about this and about how hard my day’s going to be, working outside. I’ve been noticing all of these statements....hmmmm.... And as I’ve spent time outside, I’ve realized that it’s not so bad. I’ve got a down jacket, a warm hat, excellent boots. It’s true that it’s cold, but it’s not so true that I’m miserable outside. In fact, I’ve picked up my shovel and gotten busy...and that’s helped me to stay toasty inside my fine winter duds. Perfect! I’ve quieted those negative thoughts that easily could’ve led me into a very negative mood. Ta-da! It’s that simple.

But, if it’s THAT simple, why am I still struggling every single day to keep my ego in check? Old habits are hard to break and die hard. It’s like any other addiction. Recovery happens one step at a time, and in this case, one thought at a time. And, oh my! There are SO many thoughts coming at me. Some days, I need an imaginary fly swatter to whack them all! And....it’s also really challenging to stay “present” all the time. I forget. I get lazy. And before I know it, I’m all negative and unhappy again because those tapes just keep playing those old songs on and on and on.

It’s wonderful to be able to start again and to immediately see the benefits of the work. The quality of my relationships with my husband, son, customers...all improve when I stay present and calm and clear-minded. There’s a freshness, an honesty, a vulnerability that is wonderful to experience. I remind myself that THIS is who I am and who I want to share. Totally worth the effort! Take a peek at the work of Eckhart Tolle. If the time is right, you will understand his message and begin the work.... Being in the Now is a powerful thing! Just for today, I’m going to try watering the flowers...instead of the weeds.