Savasana

At the end of every yoga class, there is a time of rest or savasana. These few minutes allow the body and the mind to absorb the work of the class and more importantly, a time of reflection, a time of quiet, a time of peace.

Savasana is the corpse pose. 

By engaging in this asana at the end of each class, we remind ourselves that life has a beginning, a journey, and an end. It should be a moment of quiet celebration and a gentle acceptance of the passage of yet another piece of our lives. The class is finished, it cannot be repeated, it can only be remembered.

And not just yoga, but so much of what we do is also a cycle.

Our child's first day of school - then the proud walk across the stage

The nervous first date - then the tearful "I do" in front of loved ones

A smile from a stranger - then the oh-so-sweet hug from your best friend

The first kiss - then the closing of a lid

Beginnings and endings - all with tears and smiles and love and sweetness

I celebrated an ending this week. I wish I coud say it was done with grace and dignity. I cannot claim that. In fact, I cried bitterly that something so very important to me had come full circle. I could not celebrate a single thing, I could only think of the loss. But I was wrong to do that. Very.

In the moment we forget 

rainbows only come after storms

pearls are made from grains of sand

mountains must have valleys to even be mountains

and mostly - to be human, we must engage in a full range of emotions

Including tears

The end always comes - and that's a reason to celebrate - and even more of a reason to love every single minute of what we hold dear.

Thoughts to take with me today: Do not cry because it's over; smile because it happened. Namaste

Candles

I'm a teacher. It goes with out saying I have candles. Why? When it's time to give a teacher a present, what is the 'go-to' gift? A candle.

I have jar candles of all sizes, votives, tapers, shaped, novelty -  every color and scent imaginable. In fact, at last count, there are well over a hundred candles in my house right now.

Tucked away in drawers. Just about every one of them. Except for the few that sit out getting dusty.

Why do they sit?

Because I don't burn candles.

Do I not burn them because I don't like them? Actually, just the opposite. I LOVE candles. I love the flickering flame, the gentle glow, the subtle smells...I adore walking into a dim room lit only by the warmth and richness of a candle. It makes me smile. Every single time.

I don't burn them, because I don't want to waste them.

What happens to candles left unburned? Eventually they lose their smell, their color, and fade into a dull lump with a wick. Of little use or interest to anyone.

Wait...What was my goal again?

I. Don't. Want. To. Waste. Them.

As if burning them in my house, for my pleasure, is a waste.

This truth hit me hard recently as I looked at 5 candles in tall glass votives on a sideboard. At one time each candle was a vibrant color with a vivid smell, nestled in a sparking glass, asking to be used, but instead, over time, slowly fading to a non-descript color with only a hint of the original scent, covered in dust.

In saving them, I wasted them.

Now, let's take a deep breath and tuck down a bit further, peel back a couple of layers and see what I'm really saying.

I'm not worth a candle.

The pleasure of enlightening my senses, of bringing a smile to my face, of feeling the comfort - all for me? No, I'm just not worth it.

But I am. I'm worth a candle, and so much more.

This is what my sideboard looks like right now.

Candles, lit and in use, not for anyone else, but for me. For no other reason than it makes me smile.

What do you save for company only? Is there something that you only pull out for 'special' that sits in a drawer or a closet that you wish you could use more often? I challenge you to use it for you, not for company, but for the best person in your life - you.

You are worth that, and so much more.

Thoughts to take with me today: Light a candle, feel the love, and smile.

Lessons from a beginner

There were new people in my yoga class last night. This isn't unusual, except that these were first-timers to yoga - as in, first class, evah. Since this is a mixed levels class, beginners are generally part of any class, but brand new? Not so much.

One of the ladies was me from two years ago - unsure, uncoordinated, inflexible, but determined to do everything 'right.'  I wanted the class to go just so beautifully for her, I wanted her to align her hips, flex forward with ease, and then bend back and open her heart to the heavens and see herself as the radiant soul she most certainly is.

My wish for her? No struggle, no effort, just joy

Of course though, she had a typical first timer's class. Nothing came automatically. She needed many adjustments, lots of explanations, and several attempts to do basic poses.

Thankfully, her first class was under the instruction of a great yogi - one who has marvelously clear instructions and tons of support, all delivered with a spirit of love and humor.

At the end of the class though, the similarities between her first class and mine ended as she commented to me, "I know I didn't do everything perfect, but I felt like I did a whole lot right! I loved it!"

The thud you hear is my heart hitting the ground as I realized that even after two years, I still don't always have that attitude. Too often I end class thinking about how much my hip hurt in a stretch, that I needed to be corrected in a back bend, or how someone else's pose soared, while mine...not so much.

In other words, I focus on what I did wrong, instead of celebrating the journey on my mat that day, respecting where I was at that moment.

It took a beginner to help me see that.

Maybe girlfriend isn't such a beginner after all.

Tomorrow brings another yoga class and another chance to enjoy the movement and feel the love. My goal is to end it with deep belief with her exact statement.

"I know I didn't do everything perfect, but I felt like I did a whole lot right! I loved it!"

Thoughts to take with me today: Who are you right now? You are also a radiant soul. Believe nothing less.

It's the pauses that matter

The more I study, practice, learn about yoga the more I'm struck by how much I want my life to actually be yoga. As in, no difference between my behavior on or off my mat. Just seamless, continuous yoga.

On my mat I can be calm, giggly, exuberant, sad, humble, joyous, inquisitive, or any number of emotions, not always 'pretty' ones, but authentic and respectful of what I am at that moment.

On my mat I journey from one pose to another and pause when the pose is exactly right for me,  Not where I will be in a year, or where I was a year ago. But now - this moment.

On my mat, I don't ask myself  'why?' and 'when?" and "what the hell are you trying to do?" There is movement and breath and finally a stillness with no past or future. Only present. Only this moment.

On my mat I breathe in peace and breathe out what little stress is there. It's not that the anxiety melts or dissipates in the yoga room, it's that it doesn't follow me. The stress is somewhere out in the hall, or parking lot, or just away.

On my mat healing thought patterns form and slowly erase the old tapes. Thought patterns that speak the truth with love and over time I believe those whispered truths just a bit more.

On my mat, I pause, and feel that moment.

On my mat, I am home.

This weekend I made a comment about someone being 'comfortable with having pauses' when they teach yoga. And there was the discovery. How perfect to have pauses in life. How right to be still, how blissful to leave the anxiety in the ether and what a gift to breathe in peace.

Living the moment - no matter what is happening - exercising, meditating, eating, house cleaning -loving the purpose of the moment.

That's yoga.

Thoughts to take with me today: I want to live on my mat and I can. It only takes practice.

Bashing into walls

Today I accepted a friend's request and went to her 5:30 AM spin class at a nearby gym. It was crazy, stupid fun. Before class she showed me tons of toys I've not seen before  - especially the plyometric stuff - including a HUGE black box,  about 3 feet high for doing jumps from the floor on. That tiny annoying voice in my head said, "No way! You can't jump that high!" even as my feet lept from the floor, square into the middle - nailing the landing! I wanted to roar like a lion because I DID IT!

Like I said, stupid, stupid fun.

During class though, I tweaked my right shoulder a bit by being careless when I came up to a standing run. This is a real problem - my right shoulder is my GOOD shoulder and for it to hurt at all is bad, bad, bad.  Then at one point, we transitioned down to a seated climb and I noticed an ache in my back, probably caused by not supporting my core enough and allowing my back to cave in. Again, this is a problem - my back (and core) has always been a strength.

Great, two separate new pains to contend with, in previously strong areas. I finished the class angry.

Externally, I looked fine. Internally, I was bashing into walls - furious with myself. Not because  I'd injured myself, but rather the same ol' refrain of regrets...

 

"Why didn't I start exercising years ago when I was young?"

"Why didn't I discover how fun this was when I had 20 year old knees?"

"Do you realize how much harder all of this is at your age?"

"Why didn't I run and jump and play all along?"

"Why did I wait so long to move?"

"Why? Just why?"

 

 

I had this mental vision of myself in a small room hurling into wall after wall, uncaring about any damage I might be doing, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until finally I came to a complete stop and sat, slumped over, exhausted in the center.

 

And there, in the stillness,  the author of my life gave me the answer to all the "Whys?"

 

"Because, my dear, your time is now."

 

 

No explanations, no apologies, just that one simple statement, spoken with love and kindness and caring.

 

  I accept.

 

 I kind of have to accept.

 

 

And in that lovely quiet moment,  I had another mental picture of the people I've met on my journey in the last 2 years.  If I had picked up exercising 20 years ago, would I have met them at all? Would our paths have intersected? Would I have hurt myself at some point in my youthful foolishness and now be regretting doing too much?  What would my life be like now and would I like it? There are no answers to those hypothetical questions, and in a way, those questions are useless.

 

My time is now - in my 50's - to exercise and move and play. I give up bashing into walls and asking "why?"  I think I'll just laugh it off and love doing what I do - jumping onto 3 foot high blocks, swinging from hammocks in aerial yoga, nailing burpees, blazing through indoor cycling, and discovering the usefulness of ibuprofen!

 

Because, my time is now. Right now. No more questions, no more fighting, no more bashing into walls. Acceptance.

 

Thoughts to take with me today: It's my life. I can love it or fight it. I think I'll choose to love it and once again, choose joy.

 

Body Image

So today, I'm on the net and an advertisement catches my eye - "Plus Size Dresses For Spring Now On Sale!"

I clicked on it thinking I could use a new dress for Spring.

Then sat back in amazement.

I'm not a plus-size and haven't been for a very long time.

This prompted me to go looking around the net wondering if I'm sorta unique and come to find out, nah, not really.

It's called "Phantom fat."  I get it...truly.

The idea is that just like in losing a limb and the body still feels like it's there, in my case, my body has lost over 85 pounds and still I feel like the fat has never left. Ever.

How to get over this feeling? Well, apparently, it's pretty simple - time. Just time. Time to adjust to what I see in the mirror, time to feel, look, listen, and believe.

Believe...

My life can be different
The weight is gone, forever
What I see is real
I can relax
It's okay

Maybe next year, I'll see the same ad and smile and know that's not my area any more.

Maybe the year after

Either way, it will happen

Thoughts to take with me today: Who knew there were so many steps to healthy?

"It's not fair...."

I teach middle school. I can't tell you the number of times I've heard this phrase. Generally directed at me when I've asked my kiddos to do something that doesn't fit in with their immediate plans. Such as school work. Funny how they seem to be surprised when they are in school and the teacher gives them work to do. Can't figure that one just comes out of the blue to them time after time.

But then I hear the same phrase come out of my mouth and I blush to hear the "whine-i-ness" of it.

It's not fair that ...

it's so hard to eat right

my knee, hip, shoulder hurts

my body won't do what I want it to do

people don't 'get' me

This attitude is not real attractive to be honest.

On a good day - a day where I have some control over my emotions - I can step back and reflect on what is really REALLY not fair.

It's also not fair that I have...

a house and bed to sleep in every night

food in my fridge and pantry

a body that moves and runs and plays

friends that accept my quirks
children who make me proud
a husband who adores me

We aren't guaranteed any of these wonderful things and there are plenty of people around the world missing any and or all of the givens I so blithely take for granted while whining and wishing and moping I had something else.

Attractive? Nope, not so much.

A while back a friend shared that every night before she goes to bed she records three things she is grateful for in a journal. I pondered that idea, and actually looked for a journal but just didn't see one that spoke to me. Then a few weeks later, another friend, who had no idea of the first conversation handed me the most beautiful bound journal completely out of the blue. That has become my journal of gratitude.

I've recorded about 3 weeks worth of statements of "I am grateful for..." and it is eye-opening to go back and re-read and be reminded of how truly blessed my life is.

No, "it's not fair" to be granted so many wonderful daily gifts. Not fair at all. Instead of whining, I think I'll smile and say "Thanks" to the Source that has provided so richly for me.

Thoughts to take with me today: I am grateful for my life.