Christmas Tree

May joy and abundance light your life and shine upon all those that surround you.

Telling Stories

My husband is a race director. I'm not talking about your run-of-the-mill 5k or 10k races. I'm not even talking about half marathons or the coveted full marathon distances. No, the races that he directs are even more elusive goals (for most) than any of those. He directs extreme races. A sampling of the options from 2013 include an ultra-distance run across the snowy plains of the Sheyenne National Grasslands, a 27-mile swim in the Red River, a 24 hour adventure race in the Pembina Gorge and, most recently, a double-hitter: 12 hour mountain bike race on Saturday followed by a 12-hour trail running race on Sunday. These are the things that make up "crazy" for many people.

These races bring in an interesting mix of people, from those driven by ego and consequently doomed to fail to the supportive spectators who wonder how these athletes live beyond the finish line (the answer is "painfully"). I commonly hear comments like, "I could never do that" or "How do they do that?" from spectators. This last race was no exception. The woman beside me busied herself by berating her own abilities and then asked both of these questions. As we watched athletes suffer through a grueling 12 hours of running on their second day on the trail, I answered her.

My teacher tells me to try to "understand what is actually happening." Many times, what is actually happening is that we are telling stories about ourselves. Fictional stories. We convince ourselves that we are someone that we are not. And we continue to believe these stories until we become the Alice in a wonderland created by yours truly. I've seen this time and again in my own life, from convincing myself that I wanted my Ph.D. to believing that I am no good at endurance sports. I've told myself I can't navigate. I've told myself that I can't dance. I tell myself daily that I don't have enough time (as I queue up the next online episode of my favorite television show).

I regularly listen to these stories when I teach yoga. "I'm not good at this pose." "I'm not good at that pose." "I can't do backbends." "I have terrible balance." With a bit of alignment and some gentle encouragement, these stories dissolve into thin air. Students begin realizing what they are actually doing relative to what they've spent countless hours on their mats believing they are doing. Aha! And a new awareness is born.

So when the woman next to me so boldly stated that she could never bike for 12 hours and follow that by running 12 more the next day, I took it upon myself to offer her a bit of alignment and some gentle encouragement.

Her first question was,"How do they do that?" My answer was,"They take one step at a time. Literally." When we get further than the step that we are presently taking we tend to lose our footing and trip, sometimes falling flat on our face. This happened several times to many of the runners. Talking to them later, I found that the times when they fell the hardest were the times when they were imagining future laps or thinking several hours ahead of where they were. Rather than paying attention to what was actually happening, they focused on what they'd planned on at some future point. The result was tripping over a fallen branch, a tree root or even their own feet! Some runners got days ahead of themselves, overwhelming their present with things they needed to do later on in the week! So engulfed were they in their future fantasy land that some simply quit! Stopped stepping. Stopped running. Stopped racing. Defeated by a future fiction that didn't even exist.

I've learned through several years of endurance events that if I take one step at a time and ONLY one step, that I CAN. When I am tired. When I am suffering. When I am wishing to be finished, I ask myself one question,"Can I take one more step? One more pedal stroke?" The answer is resoundingly,"Yes." And then I ask the question again. And again. And again. I don't get bogged down by the overwhelming thought of how far I have left to go or how many more hours of suffering that remain. I only have to take one step at any given moment! And step by step, I finish the race.

Her second comment is one that I hear often. "I can't _____" or "I could never do _____." I answered her with a question,"Can you take one step?" Of course, her answer was yes. Again I asked,"Can you take another step after that?" Again, she replied,"Yes." She was well on her way already!

This is good news! And bad.

The bad news is that with our thoughts we make the world. As we are what we eat, we are what we think. If we think that we can't, then we simply won't. We spread these lies when we tell others that we can't. When we speak in this way we are perpetuating an awful rumor at the expense of our Self. Our world becomes a list of things that we can't do. We become limited. Sometimes we even shrink.

The good news is that with our thoughts we make the world. Change your thoughts, change your world. It is as simple as thinking "I can." It is as simple as saying "I can." When we think positively about ourselves, when we realize that what was actually happening was a limited way of thinking, we can do a complete 180 degree switch. "I can _______" is a limitless thought. It begs you to fill in the blank with whatever you want to do. And then it encourages you to do it! You can go anywhere with this thought. You can do anything with this thought. You are limitless with this type of thinking.

And when you say "I can", well that is simply your voice giving a sound to the breath, the energy and the life that is your Self.

Thought by thought, word by word, breath by beautiful breath, we are limitless. And we realize what is actually happening.

Flipping a Lid. Blowing a Gasket.

Firey. Hot. Irritated. Annoyed. Indignant. Exasperated. Vexed. Peeved. Irked. Unhappy. 

ANGRY. 

All of these words describe a negative and unpleasant emotion characterized by terse responses, sharp looks and overall crankiness.

Yep - that's me at the moment. And yes, yogis can get angry. But what exactly IS anger? What causes anger?

Big energy. Stuck energy. It builds up without anywhere to go, like a kink in a water hose or a blockage in an line. The release of this energy often comes in the form of an explosion, hitting anyone in the vicinity - usually the ones closest to us.
The impact can be devastating or traumatizing to those in its path.
Most of the time the consquences are unintended and the person at fault is sorry.

So what else can be done with this "anger?"

One of the things I have found most helpful when dealing with this type energy is to relabel it. "Anger" is negative. Nobody likes to be someone who is angry. Nobody likes to be on the receiving end of anger. We can rename "anger" to help us more equanimously put this feeling into a different perspective. My teacher calls it "big energy."

This is going to seem like a giant segue into a completely different subject, but bear with me for a moment. I recently had the opportunity to take my kids to a steam threshers reunion. We saw giant machines - tractors, diggers, train engines, saw mills and giant pumps - all powered by steam. Steam, as we all know, is the result of boiling water that rises into the air. When channeled aimlessly, it can burn anyone unfortunate enough to be in its way. When left unattended it can flip a lid - like when a pot boils over. BUT when channeled in the right direction it is

Industrious. Assiduous. Unflagging. Tireless. Steady.

We can channel our big energy in a more positive direction to get something done! We can cultivate awareness around the sensation of energy rising up or bubbling over. Then, rather than blowing off this steam, we direct it to a positive end. But how?

Cultivate mindfulness around this feeling of anger, starting with the breath (always the breath!). Breathing in - I feel big energy rising. Breathing out - I will take care of this energy. Then, focus. Concentrate. And direct this energy to a more useful cause.

I like the article by Thich Naht Hanh that likens anger to a crying baby. What do we do when babies cry? We cradle them in our arms and give them love and compassion. Do this with your anger. Redirect this energy in you towards a task of compassion. 

Breath by breath, direct this big energy and let it transform you into something else. Something bigger. With love and compassion.

The Mat and the Mirror

A friend of mine recently held up a mirror and asked me to look into it. I did. Then, she asked me to look at everyone in my life - friend, family or otherwise - as a mirror; a refection of myself. And I did. The reflections I saw offered a lot of insight about how I see me. Some of them I liked, some of them I found difficult to view. Then, I took this practice onto my mat. What did I find? My mat is another mirror.

Each time we practice we have the opportunity to look more deeply and recognize what is actually happening. Our response in each asana is a mirror - reflection of our self. Each bit of tension in our neck reflects the stress we are carrying through each day. Every grimace during utkatasana reflects our reaction in difficult situations. Every time we hold our breath during a urdhva dhanurasana we recognize our hesitation to open our hearts with ease.

We become aware of the constricted areas of our bodies. Then, we relate them to the constricted areas of our lives. We can look at a bigger picture, taking our practice off of our mat and placing it into the perspective of each day.

Case in point: my hips have always been very open. I am the first one to float into pigeon and release my chest to the floor. Lotus has never been a problem for me. Put my foot behind my head? Sure, no problem. This flexibility has served me well on my mat until one day when it did not serve at all. I began experiencing a lot of pain in my sacrum. Debilitating pain. I went to see my massage therapist. The diagnosis? Too flexible. What?! Yes, too flexible. My hips lacked the strength required to hold proper alignment, eventually affecting the alignment of my sacra-iliac joint. My body ached for strength. The prescription was to begin to develop strength through my hips and limit the amount of stretching through the hip joint.

In yoga, the hips are where our patience reside. I've always considered myself an extremely patient person. I am an expert at waiting...patiently. I am also the "yes (wo)man." I am flexible in my schedule. I happily give. And give. And give. But underneath all of this flexibility I found some dis-ease that was quickly growing into resentment. I lacked the strength to say no, even when it was a detriment to myself. I lacked the strength to stand up for myself. Fast forward 18 months and I feel more balanced in my flexibility versus my strength. I even find the pluck to say "no" sometimes.

The physical lessons that we learn on our mats are reflections of our selves in life. Each practice is an opportunity to take a closer look, take a deep breath and reflect. We'll soon find our Self looking back at us.

So Many Questions...

I've been asking questions for a long, long time. I asked them as a child (Why? Why? Why?). I asked them as a young adult (graduate school and more graduate school). And now, as "mature" adult, I keep asking them. I am inquisitive, to say the least. I am armed with a critical mind that analyzes almost everything, always searching for the right answer.

My search has taken me to books and to teachers. I've found teachers in academic institutions and yoga studios. I've found them in my daily life. All have offered answers to my endless inquiry. But my questions are like an itch that I cannot scratch. My life has become one big question.

And this morning, as I settled in to my studies, I read the passage below and realized my mistake.

(from YinSights by Bernie Clark):
A young man came to visit the Buddha one day. He was filled with questions. He asked the Buddha about the nature of the universe, about the meaning of life, about death, and about many other things. The Buddha paused, and then in reply asked the man a question of his own. "Did someone tell you that I would answer these questions for you?" "No," replied the young man, "I am just eager to learn." The Buddha regarded him closely, and then taught an unexpected lesson.

"Once there was a man who was wounded by a poisoned arrow. A doctor was quickly summoned. The poison was deadly, and the man had little time left. As the doctor began to extract the arrow, the wounded man stopped him and asked, 'Wait. I must know who shot me! Why did he do this? What kind of man was he? Was he angry or jealous? Did he shoot me out of rage, or by mistake?' The doctor explained that the man had a choice: allow the arrow to be removed right away without any answers, and live, or wait for all his questions to be answered, and die."

It reminds me of an answer I received from my teacher, Dillon Cherrett: "Live life. Do yoga."

Namaste.

When I grew up...

I live in a college town. There are a lot of students around me. And today, as I was driving down University Avenue, a thought struck me, "I wish I would have grown up sooner." Let me explain. Today, I began feeling like it took me a long time to begin "growing up." To realize that perhaps "growing up" has nothing to do with age, but rather it has to do with my sense of Self.

The age old question of "what do you want to be when you grow up?" has turned into a metaphor for life, in general. No longer a question for kids but rather a question that we all ask and are asked  whether 5 years old or 50 years old. It seems this question signifies the disconnect we feel from our own Self. It represents the confusion we feel about what we need versus what we want. What we used to feel, intuitively, versus what we think. Put more simply, head versus heart. And so, when we are asked,"What do you want to be when you grow up?" we offer a gentle laugh, a roll of the eyes and while we are thinking about the answer our life happens.

I was lucky enough to confidently answer this question as a second grader: I wanted to be a teacher (what I really wanted was to write on the chalk board and being a teacher seemed a logical way to achieve this goal). I idolized my teachers - the people with authority and answers. They told me what to do and how to do it. Then, they praised me for delivering their answers back to them on paper. I liked the security and comfort of a grade, rating my performance and sending me into the next level of learning. I loved the external validation. I began following my head, filling it with facts and figures, strategies for "thinking" and "knowing."

I became a superstar of academics. I studied and studied and studied. I took advanced placement classes in high school. I was given a scholarship for university studies. I chose a major. Then, a minor. Then, I went on to graduate school for my Master of Arts. Then entered a Ph.D. program where I was given full funding and a stipend to live out my second grade dream. And this is where I gave it all up and began answering the questions in my heart rather than the ones in my head. You see, one day I'd fallen asleep in my office while searching through books for answers to questions that weren't mine. (Okay, not just one day - I'd fallen asleep several days in a row while trying to read some research, despite a very large morning coffee with a double shot of espresso). When I woke up my second grade dream was gone.

I am 37 years old (this is our little secret, okay?). I am just now beginning to ask my own questions. Just beginning to listen closely to my heart for answers. I sit quietly, paying attention to the one thing that sustains all life: the Breath. And I realize that, intuitively, I know some things about my Self. This is a daily practice.

And I've come to the conclusion that what I want to be when I grow up is ME.


Meditation:
Sit tall. Sit comfortably. Sit quietly. 
Close the eyes.
Notice your breath.
Begin rubbing the palms together briskly, feeling heat cultivate between the hands. 
Keeping the eyes closed, bring the hands six inches apart. Notice the feeling between the palms.
Bring the palms very close together without touching. Notice the feeling between the palms.
Return the palms to six inches apart and lower the hands in front of the navel. 
On the exhale, send your breath deep into your belly, the Seat of your Self. 
On the inhale, send your breath to your Heart, the harbor of compassion. 
Begin connecting your Self to you Heart.
Feel here for questions. Feel here for answers.

The Ox and the Cart

I dabble in endurance sports (marathons, ultramarathons, etc.). I also dabble in adventure sports (winter cycling, winter triathlon, adventure racing, rock climbing). My history in these edurance missions is mixed and muddy. I often have fairly good luck in team efforts but when left to complete a long race on my own I often fall short of my goals.

My husband began as my partner in these endurance efforts. He has a long history of pushing his own perceived limits in punishing ways, from 135-mile winter bike races to expedition-style, multi-day adventure races. Through it all he has developed a mental tenacity capable of overriding the signals that regularly short circuit my system. Watching his success has often left me (1) very proud of him; (2) searching for my own override switch. The answer lies in the mind.

Enter the analogy of the Ox and the Cart.

The ox pulls the cart along. The cart will follow wherever the ox may lead. The question is, "Where do you want to go?" This seems fairly easy to understand. Now, lets say the mind is the ox. The body is the cart. Now, "Where do you want to go?" The body will follow where the mind leads. By focusing the mind we, in turn, can lead the body into joy or into suffering. Just with our thoughts.

In our yoga practice we have the opportunity to be attentive and aware. We have the opportunity to train our mind onto our breath and to notice when the mind travels elsewhere. We can experience the comfort of holding a pose while focused on our breath. We notice the discomfort of holding a pose while wishing we were elsewhere. When we are not mentally focused and present, we experience suffering by wishing for what is not. When we allow our thoughts to drift into negativity about our current situation we are like a worm on a hook. Desperate to be free of the barb in our side. The body follows the mind into this discomfort and we experience dis-ease.

We use the time on our mats to practice mental focus, training our thoughts toward positivity in each asana. We become better at noticing how the mind wanders, followed by the discomfort of the body and become adept at refocusing our mental efforts. Slowly, session by session and pose by pose we come to understand the ox and how it pulls the cart. We begin directing the ox towards happiness and contentment, noticing more quickly when we follow the wrong path.

The Dhammapada contains an excellent passage that speaks to the power of the mind. It is one of my favorites. I offer it to you as a source of reflection for your practice.

We are what we think

All that we are arises with our thoughts.

With our thoughts we make the world.

Speak or act with an impure mind

And trouble will follow you

As the wheel follows the ox that drives the cart.

We are what we think.

All that we are arises with our thoughts.

With our thoughts we make the world.

Speak or act with a pure mind

And happiness will follow you

As your shadow, unbreakable.

How can a troubled mind

Understand the way?

Your worst enemy cannot harm you

As much as your thoughts, unguarded.

But once mastered,

No one can help you as much.

Not even your father or your mother.

~ Dhammapada The Buddha

source: Kornfield  - The Teachings of the Bhudda, v.42