On Juice Cleansing - My First Attempt

Anyone who embarks on a juice cleanse or juice fast should be required to wear a sign around their necks for the first 48 hours that says, “Step away....I am fasting and it’s not pretty.”  Those first couple of days are brutal, at least they have been for me.  I am now on Day Four of my cleanse and can finally FINALLY write about the experience so far without using any swear words or slurring my speech or crying.  This is my first cleanse, so bear with me as I explain.

Why the heck would anyone WANT to do a juice cleanse in the first place, right?  I mean...who would willingly give up coffee, sugar, alcohol, cheeseburgers and all that other deliciously unhealthy stuff we poke into our pie holes day in and day out, year in and year out and opt to starve themselves for “good health?”  I’m only doing it for a week....some people sign on for TWO!  Anyone who knows me well understands that THIS is just the sort of thing I jump into.  I can’t NOT jump at the idea of a challenge involving willpower and stamina and stupidity.  I’ve jumped out of airplanes, done a fire walk across 1200 degree coals, ran away to Belize on my own for a 7-day adventure travel trip without knowing a single soul I’d be traveling with....and the list goes on.

The cleanse I’m on is entirely my friend Evan’s fault.  I got the grand idea of juice cleansing about a year ago from him.  He led our first trip to Ireland and we stayed in touch thereafter.  Almost immediately upon getting home, Evan said, “things have GOT to change for me” and he embarked on a self-guided health kick involving a 14-day juice fast and that 90 day exercise thingy that’s been all the rage for over a year now.  The next time I saw him, he was completely transformed.  I’m not kidding.  He’d lost all kinds of extra weight and his eyes were clear and he just looked so much healthier, I couldn’t help but get curious about the ways he’d gone about kicking himself in the ass and getting healthy.  I’m already a fitness nut so I was most interested in the juice fasting.  I’ve wanted to give it a try myself but it’s actually been challenging to carve out “THE WEEK” when I felt I could truly pull it off and dedicate myself to not eating and taking care of myself during the process.  

Just ponder for a moment the idea of NOT eating and drinking anything but water and carefully-prepared juices for an entire week.  We are incredibly social beings, us Americans!  How do you go to a wedding or a barbecue or a family dinner when you are on a juice fast??!!  People will KNOW.  People will ask questions.  You will stick out.  You might not be able to be around a wedding cake without giving up all thoughts of civility and launching yourself through the air in your high heels and diving full-bodied onto it.  So:  it takes some careful decision-making about when you feel you could reasonably set aside eating and socializing and other habits for an entire week (or two).  For me, I finally decided it was time when I got back from Ireland (for the second time) about a week or so ago.  While vacationing, I indulged in dining and drinking and also felt completely exhausted from the vacation itself, which was more like adventure travel than a leisure pursuit, to put it mildly.  We toured Ireland again this year with Evan at the helm.  I recall seeing him walk into the bus station in Portland for our first leg of the journey and mumbling to my husband, “Oh my god...Evan looks so thin and healthy.”  Since his first 14-day cleanse, I believe Evan has managed to do at least one and maybe two more.  Having just four days under my belt, Evan has now elevated to Rock Star status in my book.  Knowing that someone else made it through a cleanse has been KEY for me...someone who parties in the pubs and eats probably just as poorly as I do at times.  If he can handle it, then what the heck was I waiting for?  Couple those thoughts with my dwindling self-esteem at having put on a few pounds myself this last year and hating myself for letting it happen and BAM!  As soon as I got back from Ireland, it was time for my cleanse to REALLY happen.

Mike and I chose to have our juices prepared for us at Mojo Health Bar for our first cleanse.  The proper juicing equipment costs about $200 and there’s all that work involved in procuring good, organic veggies and fruit and then preparing all of your juices while working a regular, full week.  We also opted for a seven-day cleanse for our first experience rather than 14.  We just didn’t want to set ourselves up for failure.  We saw the juice cleanse as a way to prepare our bodies for a new life regarding food and diet.  By cleansing in this way, we felt the chances were much higher that we'd not go back to our unhealthy habits, that we'd feed ourselves only things that promote good health and longevity.  No crap.  Through this cleanse, we are cleaning out our temples, our bodies, and hope to treat them better hereafter.

      So, here’s how it works.  Twice a day, Mike goes to Mojo and Philip or Jacqueline prepares our juices.  For the first two days, we drank two 20-ounce juices per day and ate a little bit of salad or steamed veggies.  From Day Three forward, we are drinking three 20-ounce juices per day and as much water as we can handle and no more solids at all.  We are now half way through Day Four.  

Day One was easy for me.  I didn’t even want to eat the solid foods Mike told me I had to eat.  No problem at all...everything was new and I was full of confidence.  I thought the first cup of juice was delicious.  It was full of the taste of beets and celery and kale and carrots.  Not bad at all, I thought.  I worked a full day, drank my two juices, ate a little veggie stir fry for dinner.  I took my two Benadryl at bedtime (another vice...more on that later) and called it a successful first day of juicing. 

Day Two was much, much more challenging.  No coffee meant headaches...which turned into muscle aches and tension in my neck and shoulders.  No caffeine also meant lethargy.  What was I thinking taking the Benadryl??  I was pretty much dragging my achy body around, slurring my speech for much of the day.  And I was a grouch.  And I kind of wanted to cry.  But I didn’t.  I pressed onward and stuck to the plan.  Every time I felt hungry, I sucked on my water bottle.  If I needed an extra perk, I added ice to my bottle.  It’s the little things, I’ve found, that get you through the rough moments.  We decided to let Brody close the school for us and valiantly headed to a Bikram yoga class at 4:30 on Tuesday afternoon, thinking it might help us overcome the headaches and muscle tension and speed along the “detoxing” through all that sweating.  Philip had coached Mike that we should have plenty of energy to do all our normal activities, including working out, so we trusted that we’d make it through class without passing out.  It actually worked for me.  I could even see and feel a difference in my practice already.  One of the biggest motivators for me in doing a cleanse and then following up with better eating habits is the desire to regain mobility in my body.  Extra pounds and let’s face it...fat....encumbers me and I feel like I can’t move the way I’m used to moving.  In my clothes, I feel hemmed in and constricted and tight.  At yoga, I feel like I can’t stretch as far as I used to be able to and can’t get as deeply into my postures as I want to.  So, getting a tiny little boost from noticing that I could tuck my body completely against my legs in a certain posture and seeing my flatter tummy in the mirror made my day.  For Mike, it was a different story.  Mike likes alcohol and he felt like he’d been hit by a truck on day two.  He felt like he was detoxing not just from caffeine and all those other things, but specifically from all that whiskey and beer he’s pickled his body in over the years.  He came out of yoga mad as a hornet and ready to sting everyone in sight.  He hated himself and yoga and his life and....me.  It was a rough night, but he drank his p.m. juice and felt a bit better heading to bed.  We still had headaches but the yoga helped and we’d both lost quite a bit of weight in just the first two days.  I’d lost five pounds and Mike was up near eight.  I reduced my Benadryl dose to 1 pill and tried to get some sleep.

Day Three was nearly as rough as Day Two, honestly.  We both woke up with pounding headaches.  We had less lethargy but neither of us had slept particularly well.  This was our first day without any hope of a reprieve through a little solid food.  It was scary.  Mike made chamomile tea to give us something warm to start the day.  I didn’t even finish my cup.  I drank a ton of water and anxiously awaited my first juice of the day.  Thankfully, the a.m. juice on Day Three was more fruit-based than the previous juices, and there was also a ton of fresh ginger in it.  Honestly, it tasted very intensely of orange peel (not in a good way AT ALL) and the ginger was so strong it burned going down.  It was a pretty orange color though....  And Jacqueline, in hearing about my lethargy, sent along a wheat grass shot for each of us.  So, I basically had spicy ginger and orange peel juice with a chaser of grass to start my day.  I felt better almost instantly.  I’m not kidding!  This juice made my day.  I wanted to lick out the cup (not really...there’s was sludgy orange stuff stuck to it...gross)!   I decided to use my energy to weed the rock wall bordering the playground while the puppies played.    We had another beet-and-green based juice at midday that I had to choke down.  When all you have to look forward to is drinking a garden including the dirt, it can be rough.  In the afternoon, I sat in my chair and napped right along with the puppies.  Things had begun to look up just a bit.  The headaches were still there, but to a much lesser extent, and the lethargy had begun to really lift away.  We drank our evening juice after work and proceeded to do ALL of our indoor and outdoor chores we usually save for the weekend.  This marked the transition into a period of energy we’d heard about from Evan and read about in our research.  Your body is no longer spending 70% of its energy digesting and processing solid food, so you have access to that energy for other things.  We trimmed our 40’ line of shrubs in front of the house, mowed and weed-whacked the lawn and gardens, vacuumed and dusted the entire house and scrubbed the school room and kitchen floors.  And then we fell into bed in a heap of weirdness.  Seriously.  We feel weird.  It’s just not “normal” to deprive your body of all the stuff it’s become accustomed to in a lifetime of eating and drinking mindlessly.  Part of me is just waiting it out, waiting for the whole thing to be over...yet at the same time, I cannot contemplate returning to food again.  It scares me to think about it.  Once you take a break from food, how do you return to it, given what you’ve been through and what you are learning?  No wonder we feel weird.  We are also peeing and pooping red and pink from all the beets.  That’s weird too.  Not a lot of poop, mind you.  That’s not what I expected.  What I expected was to have the blow out runs.  I thought you’d poop your brains out because you were “cleansing” and “detoxing” but since you aren’t taking in solids, there’s not a whole lot coming out the other end.  Cool surprise.

Day Four found me more than six pounds slimmer than when I began.  I pulled my jeans on for work easily and found I could breathe nicely even when they were buttoned.  And, the best part?  No headache at all!  We didn’t even bother with the herbal tea this morning and just started drinking cold water.  Neither of us was looking forward to our first juice of the day but we knew we had to get it down to fuel us through the morning.  I am a total gulper when it comes to these juices.  Thankfully we use straws and I just haul ass on that straw for all I’m worth until all 20 ounces are down the hatch.  Otherwise, I’d be like Mike, pacing around the yard, sipping and wincing.  Not my style.  I’m trying really hard not to reach for my sugarless gum or Tic Tacs today.  My breath is yucky.  My mouth isn’t pasty and I’m not dehydrated...but I don’t like the way my mouth tastes.  Unavoidable I guess.  I’ve had plenty of energy today and we’re planning to hit the mats again tonight at hot yoga.  I’m starting to believe that this juice cleanse is actually a good thing.  I’ve been writing in my journal every morning for 30 minutes and have been feeling emotionally clear and even happy today.  Those first couple of days I felt like I wanted to die, like I was a total idiot for ever embarking on something so difficult.  I stopped telling my customers about it because I couldn’t handle all the comments about why I would do something like this, etc.  Curiously, though, I’ve not been bothered in the least by Brody eating and cooking and drinking around me.  He teases me pretty relentlessly and last night while I was working on my computer he slipped a gummy Lifesaver (big weakness he and I share) beside me and whispered, “eat it...no one has to know” but I shoved it back at him and just laughed.  I have no desire to cheat and want more than anything to see this cleanse through to the final hour.  Things will get interesting as the long weekend approaches.  We plan to hike a 4000-footer in NH on Sunday fueled by nothing but juice and water.  If you don’t hear from me by Monday, send out the search party!  We’ll be hiking Eisenhower.  Oh, and tonight will be my first night in a very long time of attempting to fall asleep and stay asleep without Benadryl.  Yeehah!

What I've Learned From a Weed

There is some type of viney weed that grows on the back edge of our property along a lovely rock wall.  When we first moved here six years ago, this weed was thriving.  It had wound itself around a lilac bush, choked off the growth of a once-beautiful burning bush and twisted its way up and around the trunks and into the branches of several trees, determined to take over and squeeze the life out of these other, more desirable and healthy garden plants.

Over the years, I have continually done my best to thwart the vine’s attempts to thrive....cutting it back, pulling up its roots, loosening its grip on the surrounding greenery.  Sometimes life gets busy and I forget about the vine for weeks at a time, but the weed never forgets, never stops growing.  Before I know it, there it is again with its sticky, curly, tenacious tendrils draping and winding up, up, up.  This past spring I put in a good three to four hours yanking on it, hacking off its woody stalks and balling up and tossing out yards and yards of its handiwork.  And still:  it thrives.  Still, it finds new and more crafty ways to travel underground and pop up elsewhere in the yard as a new menace to yet another area of planned, purposeful beauty.

After six years of this, I feel like this weed and I are in a relationship.  I find myself talking to it as I work along the rock wall, marveling aloud at its will to live, its determination to “be,” however bothersome and irritating I may find its ongoing presence.  “Hello, weed.  I see you’ve been quite busy this last week.  The rain seems to have softened the ground and aided your tireless efforts.”

Sometimes I’m frustrated and less-than-impressed with my weed’s stunning tenacity.  “I hate you, you piece of shit.  Get out of my yard or I’ll get out the Round Up and blast your ass.”

Here and there, I have the time and energy to match the weed’s ardor for growth with my own enthusiasm for its annihilation and happily spend several moments plucking small, tender weeds up by the roots...tens and tens of them.  The growing pile in my hand feels powerful.  My black-eyed Susans almost wink in collusion.  It never escapes me, though, that this amazing vine has adapted quite nicely to human attempts at uprooting and thwarting it, as time and again the shoots break off at ground level as I try to pull them up root-and-all.  "I'm still here," it seems to be whispering, "even if you can't see me, I am here just beneath the surface."  What an admirable and worthy foe.  It’s almost too bad that it’s NOT a wanted plant, that it’s a parasite and a killer of the good stuff.

I’ve been wondering for a while now about this vine and its possible purpose in my daily round.  Certainly there’s something to be learned here for me....and perhaps for you, too, dear reader.  I’ve decided that, for me, the weed is a reminder of the ever-present possibility of allowing the “wrong thing” to take root and grow in my life.  I think all of us have a secret (or not-so-secret) broken place, something that lurks around in the dark corners of our lives that needs examination...light...honesty...monitoring...management....and yes even perhaps annihilation.  Each of us may give this “something” a different name:  addictions of various types come to mind, wily wounds from the past that pester and bother and fester in our current lives, too.  Perhaps we refer to our secret something as a “guilty pleasure” or a “bad habit.”  I know what mine is and where it “lives” in me, and I think that’s half the battle won.  Becoming and staying aware of its crafty and coy nature, I become stronger.  Understanding its many disguises and tricks used to gain a foothold in my otherwise joyful and carefree life, I’m better prepared.  

Like the viney weed in my yard, I am in a relationship with this aspect of myself.  Modern day spiritual/psychological gurus like Wayne Dyer and Eckhart Tolle would refer to this part within all of us as our “ego” or “childlike self.”  A helpful reminder for me is this:  “my ego is NOT my friend.”  Left to its own devices, this part of me can take over...especially when I’m feeling weak, tired, lacking.  Without my constant presence of mind and “weeding techniques,” I easily become inundated with negativity, bogged down by a heaviness of heart or swept away in self-indulgent fantasies.  Working with my viney weed has helped me to better understand this secret something that resides inside of me and to have a certain amount of respect and tenderness towards it.  It’s not something that will ever completely go away, perhaps.  It needs a certain amount of attention, preferably daily, to keep it in check.  A little bit of work each day and I can keep it at bay, keep it from growing, festering, taking over.  I like the metaphor.  Now, each time I’m weeding that back edge of my property, I am reminded not only to weed my own inner garden but also to nourish the tender shoots of what’s most beautiful in me and in my life, to pay attention to what’s good and what’s lovely in and around me.  Nature is such an amazing and powerful teacher, yes?  Namaste.

Walking My Dogs In Peace

I just want to walk my dogs in peace.  You know....a simple leash-walk around the neighborhood at the beginning or end of the day, a chance for the dogs to sniff around, stretch their legs and enjoy the sights.  We live in a lovely area of the city with many side streets jutting off both sides of the busy main road to meander at our leisure, with varied homes and gardens to enjoy along whatever route we choose.  My two Labs are finally of an age that they walk nicely on a loose leash without dragging me around as in the past.  Should be lovely.  The truth is, though, that no matter what route we choose on a given day, our leash walks are anything BUT peaceful and serene....and my experience has left me frustrated, irritated and ready to rant.  

My question to my dog-owning neighbors is this:  WHY????  

Why would you leave your overweight, miserable old Black Lab in your driveway on a chain all day lying in wait for the next “victim” to walk by so he can jump up and scare the wits out of them with his ferocious lunge/bark routine?  

Why leave the curtains open with the couch pushed up against the picture window, providing your psychotic Yorkie with the perfect perch from which to launch her screams and howls while clawing the glass with fervor at the tiniest sound of a dog tag jingling on a collar from the street?

Why keep your front door open as an invitation to your two bored Westies to stage a full barking assault on every person making the mistake of walking by?

Why allow your Chihuahua to hang out the window of your truck and scream what sounds like a long string of Spanish obscenities at me and my Labs while you are at the red light?

Why leave the back door to your garage open to your fenced-in back yard so your two under-stimulated, under-exercised Bloodhounds can fly out to rush the fence, stick their noses through the gaps, throw their full weight at it and/or frantically dig at the ground beneath it as they howl and bay at every noise they hear, causing the fence to sway and buckle as if a hurricane is occurring on the inside?

     Why put an electronic shock collar on your Labradoodle and toss her in the front yard so she can bark at cars and bikes and people and especially other DOGS while running frantically back and forth along the line of an underground invisible fence?

     Why give your ancient Cocker Spaniels full run of the house while you're not home so that they can run from window to window yelling at the top of their hoarse, croaky voices when they hear something outside?

And why oh WHY don’t you shorten the damn rope you tie your rabid Terriers to your front porch with so that they can’t reach the sidewalk in front of your house and strike out at my Black Lab as she’s being leash-walked by, ripping a three-inch gash in her ear?

There’s more...but I think you get the picture.  Kind of makes me realize why so many people don’t like dogs.  If you know me, you know that it’s not the dogs that I hold responsible.  It’s the people.  I mean, seriously:  WHY??!!!  Do these owners think they are giving their dogs some sort of "life" by allowing them to see/hear/interact with what’s happening on the street in front of their homes this way?  Do they think that there’s no alternative?  I just don’t understand.  Close the curtains, shut the door, supervise your dog, put him in a crate or at least in a space where he can’t react to every little sound negatively.  Don’t they realize that by turning a blind eye to their dogs’ behavior they are actually reinforcing that behavior....creating a habit?  I’ve actually seen some of these owners attempting to leash-walk their dogs.  The lady whose Terrier ripped my Lab’s ear to shreds (resulting in a $200 trip to the emergency vet when she developed serious cellulitis and her ear blew up to 3x its size) “walks” her two screaming dogs up and down the streets of our neighborhood daily.  We can hear them barking in the distance and if we have the bad fortune to meet them on the street, those little empowered beasts lunge and growl for all they’re worth.  And the owner just smiles like this is “normal.”  Wow.

People....come on!  I’m a dog owner, too.  I get it that dog ownership is a huge responsibility and can often feel overwhelming, but that responsibility isn’t somehow magically suspended when you leave your house in the morning to go to work and leave your dog with access to the street....or worse, when you are HOME and invite/allow your dog to harass people.  You can’t expect your dog to behave appropriately if you haven’t set him up for success and worked with him consistently and over time to follow the house rules.  And...you actually have to HAVE house rules (I’d start with “remain non-reactive to passing attractions or lose your privilege").  You can’t expect your dog to be happy and fulfilled by shoving her out in the yard or posting her in the front doorway for hours on end to howl at every passerby.  Your neighbors shouldn’t have to run the gauntlet every time they want to stroll the neighborhood, with or without a canine companion.  Namaste.

What can I learn from a simple contraction?

Yesterday in yoga class, I had an “aha moment.” I know you’re not supposed to THINK about other stuff during practice, but being totally out of practice, some thoughts seeped in. I was thinking about how truly dumb I’d been for NOT finding my way to my mat for about four weeks. And then I kept seeing the word CAN’T in my head. I focused in on the N and the T and realized how terrible they are for each other. I mean....can you think of a single word where there’s not a negative connotation when these two squeeze themselves together? Can’t, won’t shouldn’t, don’t. See what I mean?

And isn’t it also really interesting that together, they form a CONTRACTION. So that was the beginning of

my aha moment. I realized that whenever I give in to the “N’T” my life contracts as well. My muscles begin to tighten up, stress begins to turn my serene face into a scowl. I become less open to possibilities, to joy, to love whenever I turn away from my practice. And somehow, the path away from yoga always seems to involve the relationship of the N to the T. It works like this: I caN’T go to yoga....I’m too busy. I didN’T eat/drink the right stuff during my day to be able to handle a yoga class tonight. I woN’T survive the heat. I shouldN’T leave my dogs home alone. What a bad set of lovers, N and T. Whenever these two get together (and they are like magnet and steel),

bad shit happens. We can all relate, right? I mean, who among us hasn’t had a relationship like this with another human being? You know s/he’s wrong for you, yet you keep feeling the pull and before you know it, BAM! you’re back in it, even though it’s harmful/hurtful/all wrong for you.

That’s why you and I need to work as hard as we can to keep N and T apart!! They are never good for each other! And when they squeeze together with that little bit of punctuation between them, we lose and we lose and we lose.

So, just for today....I am going to practice caN Too instead of caN’T. Whenever I think I can’t, I’m going to replace that with a can too! I’m gonna keep those two lovers apart. It’s better....a lot better....than when I let that T backslide and shimmy his way back over to N, resulting in a caN’T ooooooo (ouch) instead of a can too!!

Maybe it’s crazy or maybe it’s brilliant....but just for today, this new way of thinking might save me from missing out on something so wonderful for my body, my spirit, my mind. YES....it’s difficult. YES.....it hurts sometimes. YES....it takes time out of your day/night. But YES....it’s so worth the effort. Let’s E-X-P-A-N-D instead of contract. The hardest part is making it to your mat. I can do it....and you caN Toooooooo. Namaste.

Eight Years A Yogi....Always A Beginner

It’s the dawning of another new year and almost time for my eighth anniversary as a Bikram yogi. What, you may wonder, is the big attraction that’s pulled me to practice this yoga for these many years? I suppose it’s a multi-faceted magnet, as I am a multi-faceted human being.

I practice yoga enough to keep my body challenged. Yes, it’s possible to be challenged by the SAME practice for eight consecutive years. Millimeters matter and are hard won. Hips take years to open up. Hamstrings seem to prefer being tight rather than loose. And bodies change....and change....and change over the years. Yoga was actually easier for me when I first began, and certain postures were easier to fully express then rather than now. My continuing yoga practice has helped me to accept my aging body, to delight in its abilities, to challenge it in its lazy times. Having to look at myself in the mirror for ninety minutes allows me to find the beauty there as well as the humanity. There’s always something to love...and always something to work on.

I practice yoga enough to settle my ego down. There’s just no place for anyone’s ego in the practice room...not mine and not the teacher’s. It’s amazing the things that will tweak my ego in that room. Whether I’m being laid low by a bout of nausea, feeling a sense of grandeur from holding a posture for the entire minute, or finding myself irritated by a certain teacher’s mood or a fellow student’s loud grunts of exertion....it’s all fodder for the work, and the work, at least for this yogi, is to let go and let go and LET GO of my ego...becoming humble and at one with the nature of things. Once, very recently, I thought I just could not bear another class with a certain teacher who I was finding to be unloving, rigid and callous with her students. Before long, I was hung up on her every word...looking for her lack of trust, her attempts to control us, feeding the nasty monster of my OWN ego. My years of practice helped me to remember that we are ALL doing the best that we can, that I was losing my practice by paying attention to the negatives. I forced myself to keep going, to open my heart and find love and respect for my teacher and for the opportunity to confront this area within myself in need of growth and transformation. Once I was on the other side of the frustration and rage and had transformed it to acceptance and peace, I was so grateful for my practice, which allowed me to work through my own lack of love, rigidity and judgmentalness.

I practice yoga enough to find a sense of surrender to the Divine. For me, there’s simply no better feeling than that clear headedness and peace that is achieved through 90 minutes of heat and sweat and mental focus and physical exertion, all combined. I love taking what I’ve achieved out into the world with me after practice. If you find me to be a positive, loving, peaceful, centered person, it’s because of my yoga. Being humble in my practice, and giving myself over to whatever will BE in that room results in a demeanor that is softer, more loving, better at really listening....really being present...for others. When I practice enough, my relationships with those close to me, my dealings with my customers, my tolerance (and even love) of my fellow human beings increases exponentially.

In March, I will smile at myself in the mirror, bring my hands into prayer position below my chin and bow in acknowledgment of the hard work, the joy, and the blessing of eight years of yoga. And then I will begin again with a sense of openness to and excitement for what IS and what might be possible for me through my practice. Namaste!

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.