I was caught, twice this week, leaving yoga class. There I was sweating among 20 or 30 other people and I left. I didn't leave the room. I left the moment and I was caught.
The first time that it happened I was moving from a front down savasana into the next pose. I do Bikram yoga, which is the same 26 poses every time, so I know the routine. Somehow (actually I know how) my mind stopped listening to the dialog and I found myself upright on my knees with my hands on the small of my back. It took another moment before I realized that I was one pose too early. I chuckled quietly to myself and moved into the correct sequence but the instructor and I exchanged glances as we both knew that my automatic pilot had shifted in gear and then gave me away.
Today in class I was very present at the outset. I was coughing and assessing how my body felt as a result of a mild cold. I could feel the tightness in my shoulders as a result of rock climbing two days in a row. I could feel my hamstrings and glutes stretch as we warmed up. We then shifted from the standing series to the floor series. The instructor varied slightly from the dialogue and commented that the floor series presents new challenges, that since we take savasana between each pose, we have more opportunities for our minds to shift into gear. I listened, agreed, and decided that wouldn't happen to me.
Ha!...I was midway through the floor series, laying in savasana and heard the instructor say "Ginny, are you sleeping?" I nodded, realizing that I had momentarily closed my eyes. Then I heard him say "Cathy really doesn't like you that much" and I realized that I was laying face turned in the wrong direction, nose to another's nose, removing any privacy from the person on the mat next to me. I laughed out loud as I become conscious just how far away I had slipped.
Several things have become clear to me as a result of practicing yoga this week. Staying in the moment continues to be a challenge and, ironically, I am catching myself leaving when I believe I am most present. Staying present in yoga class is not to be taken for granted. Chuckling and laughing when caught is a new reaction for me. In the past when I received feedback to do something differently I would strain and try too hard. I became heavy. Maybe I am still not present as much as I believe I am but I am grateful for this new lighthearted response. Rather than feeling caught, I feel a light shining the way.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Expectations vs. intentions
The last time that I went rock climbing, I climbed really well. I was telling a group of friends just that and one asked "What does climbing well mean?"
Good question. It's not like there are time trials or judges. Even route grades are controversial. What is easy for one person is not so easy for another, whether it is a 5.7 or a 5.11b. When I say I climbed well, I mean that I broke through either a physical or mental limit. It means that I have climbed with my mind quiet and my body active. On that particular night, I climbed a route, that none of my friends have done, top to bottom without stopping. It was the fourth time that I tried the route. I had the benefit of knowing the pattern of movement from my past attempts. There was one moment when I almost stopped but I continued.
I then tried another route that I have climbed many times. Only once have I climbed it without a stop. There are three moves that I find mentally challenging. Physically I can do them all. My self-talk is what inhibits me. I look at the hold out to the right and know that I have to move my foot up and out parallel to my hip. Once I do that, the only parts of me that are close to the wall are my hands, gripping holds, and my feet, placed on hold. When I climb I like to be close to the wall and this position plays on all my fears.
As I made the first move, I was pleased with myself. I was even happier when I made the second difficult move, and at that point, I lost focus and listened to my talk and didn't succeed in making the third move. It's like in yoga when I try to balance just on one foot in toe stand. The instant I realize that I am doing it, I fall out. I am afraid not to fall because that would mean that I would have to stay in toe stand even longer. The expectation is what causes me to fall.
Expectations are inherently a balancing act. If my expectations are too low, I don't reach high enough. If they are too high, I get frustrated. The answer: set intentions not expectations. For me, setting intentions creates challenge but allows me freedom to let my body move and my mind observe. Expectations are more rooted in outcomes, in the future. An intention is set in the present. An expectation is rooted in the past and future. When I climb hold by hold, rather than focusing on the end, I climb more confidently and smoothly. Moment by moment, hold by hold with quiet intent.
Good question. It's not like there are time trials or judges. Even route grades are controversial. What is easy for one person is not so easy for another, whether it is a 5.7 or a 5.11b. When I say I climbed well, I mean that I broke through either a physical or mental limit. It means that I have climbed with my mind quiet and my body active. On that particular night, I climbed a route, that none of my friends have done, top to bottom without stopping. It was the fourth time that I tried the route. I had the benefit of knowing the pattern of movement from my past attempts. There was one moment when I almost stopped but I continued.
I then tried another route that I have climbed many times. Only once have I climbed it without a stop. There are three moves that I find mentally challenging. Physically I can do them all. My self-talk is what inhibits me. I look at the hold out to the right and know that I have to move my foot up and out parallel to my hip. Once I do that, the only parts of me that are close to the wall are my hands, gripping holds, and my feet, placed on hold. When I climb I like to be close to the wall and this position plays on all my fears.
As I made the first move, I was pleased with myself. I was even happier when I made the second difficult move, and at that point, I lost focus and listened to my talk and didn't succeed in making the third move. It's like in yoga when I try to balance just on one foot in toe stand. The instant I realize that I am doing it, I fall out. I am afraid not to fall because that would mean that I would have to stay in toe stand even longer. The expectation is what causes me to fall.
Expectations are inherently a balancing act. If my expectations are too low, I don't reach high enough. If they are too high, I get frustrated. The answer: set intentions not expectations. For me, setting intentions creates challenge but allows me freedom to let my body move and my mind observe. Expectations are more rooted in outcomes, in the future. An intention is set in the present. An expectation is rooted in the past and future. When I climb hold by hold, rather than focusing on the end, I climb more confidently and smoothly. Moment by moment, hold by hold with quiet intent.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Winnie the Pooh as glue
In the past two weeks, I have read several books. At first they seemed disparate. I read "Last Child in the Woods" by Richard Louv which reinforced my belief that nature is a source of healing, spirituality and beauty, and that without contact with nature, our souls are thinner. I read "Comfortable with Uncertainty" by Pema Chodron. I resonated with many of the concepts but wondered how to reconcile the notion of "groundlessness" with the feeling that being "grounded", being "centered" contribute to me being a more true me. I also took some to time to begin to understand Tonglen. The idea of breathing in whatever seems bad initially felt counter-intuitive, though the idea of breathing out and passing on good made sense from the outset. I read "Shadow Catcher" which contains some of the most poetic prose I have ever read and a number of themes, varying from early photography as an art form and truth-teller, to the treatment of Native Americans, to trains as metaphors, to children whose fathers disappear. I also re-read the "Tao of Pooh" by Benjamin Huff.
Language is one of the tools through which we communicate and I realized that "groundlessness" and "being grounded" express the same concept, but with slight difference in nuance. Groundlessness means not being rooted, allowing one's self to be open to the moment, allowing one's self to feel all that is present. When I do that, I am me and more. I am me and I am connected to all that is. When I am grounded, I mean that I am feeling open to my feelings but the connection to all that is, is more limited almost as if the connection extends only as far as my roots.
Breathing in the pain and bad feelings and the breathing out the good has helped me deal with a number of stressful situations over the past couple of weeks. I found that as I practice Tonglen, I observe my own thoughts and feelings more closely and feel a tighter link with others. For example, yesterday, my car was rear-ended as I drove down a freeway. I immediately got out of my car and checked that the driver of the car that hit me was okay. Later, I felt angry that she had not done the same for me. Later still, I realized that I could relate to how she was feeling, that she wanted to believe that she was not at fault, that this inconvenience could be pushed away by denial. In the past, I would have told everyone I saw that day that I had been in a car accident. I would have fondled the story (and perhaps I am now) but I do know that I haven't focused on the incident the way I would have in the past.
"The Shadow Catcher" is a novel which intertwines history, fiction, and personal memoir. It's value to me at this time is to illustrate that the lines between the three types of oeuvres are illusions, and made stronger or weaker by recounting or forgetting. Interpretation of any story is individual as well. Perhaps a scholar could determine if A.A. Milne had read Lao-tse or been exposed to eastern philosophy, but I doubt his intent in writing "Winnie the Pooh" was to create a parable illuminating Taoist ideas. Even if A. A. Milne did have such an intent, it wouldn't matter. Rabbit's calculations and Owl's pontifications would still just fall on Pooh's ears. Winnie the Pooh is a simple bear who illustrates a way of learning from whatever happens in everyday life. He is pretty much okay with whatever happens. He does without doing . And despite my protestations to the contrary, it is no coincidence that Winnie the Pooh is a childlike bear who lives in the woods and is very comfortable with uncertainty. Winnie the Pooh is the glue in my reading.
Language is one of the tools through which we communicate and I realized that "groundlessness" and "being grounded" express the same concept, but with slight difference in nuance. Groundlessness means not being rooted, allowing one's self to be open to the moment, allowing one's self to feel all that is present. When I do that, I am me and more. I am me and I am connected to all that is. When I am grounded, I mean that I am feeling open to my feelings but the connection to all that is, is more limited almost as if the connection extends only as far as my roots.
Breathing in the pain and bad feelings and the breathing out the good has helped me deal with a number of stressful situations over the past couple of weeks. I found that as I practice Tonglen, I observe my own thoughts and feelings more closely and feel a tighter link with others. For example, yesterday, my car was rear-ended as I drove down a freeway. I immediately got out of my car and checked that the driver of the car that hit me was okay. Later, I felt angry that she had not done the same for me. Later still, I realized that I could relate to how she was feeling, that she wanted to believe that she was not at fault, that this inconvenience could be pushed away by denial. In the past, I would have told everyone I saw that day that I had been in a car accident. I would have fondled the story (and perhaps I am now) but I do know that I haven't focused on the incident the way I would have in the past.
"The Shadow Catcher" is a novel which intertwines history, fiction, and personal memoir. It's value to me at this time is to illustrate that the lines between the three types of oeuvres are illusions, and made stronger or weaker by recounting or forgetting. Interpretation of any story is individual as well. Perhaps a scholar could determine if A.A. Milne had read Lao-tse or been exposed to eastern philosophy, but I doubt his intent in writing "Winnie the Pooh" was to create a parable illuminating Taoist ideas. Even if A. A. Milne did have such an intent, it wouldn't matter. Rabbit's calculations and Owl's pontifications would still just fall on Pooh's ears. Winnie the Pooh is a simple bear who illustrates a way of learning from whatever happens in everyday life. He is pretty much okay with whatever happens. He does without doing . And despite my protestations to the contrary, it is no coincidence that Winnie the Pooh is a childlike bear who lives in the woods and is very comfortable with uncertainty. Winnie the Pooh is the glue in my reading.
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