She's baaaaaaack....

The amazing Tara Judelle (pictured here) is back from her 3 month stint in Bali, where I'm not sure exactly what she did besides teach yoga, but I like to imagine that she did some riding of dolphins and levitating, as she is just that kind of gal.

Tara is the one who got me all revved up about the organ body...and had me spouting phrases like, "hyoid bone" and "zyphoid process"...and her departure for Bali created an unwelcome chasm in my organ name beef-up project (I don't really have a project like that, but I was really digging learning all about my insides)...but never fear, Shanti-Towners, she has returned and you can bet that this humble yoga blog will be chock-full of fun facts about the clavicular notch and the sacral dome (made that one up) from here on out!

Expect to be thrilled by anatomical superstars the likes of:

the Pineal Gland!!

the Dens!!

and the return of...the Hyoid Bone!!

(hold your cheers and stomping of feet...)

All of these characters I will get to, right quick, but want to contextualize first and tell you that ms. Tara has returned from Bali all a-fire with the following philosophical treatises:

1. That the microcosm IS the macrocosm (and vice-versa). Another way to think of this might be "inside is outside", or "the universal is the individual", or "you are what you eat". (Um...that last one maybe not so much.) But, basically what she's saying is that we, as individuals, contain within us all the workings of the universe in small-scale. War out there, means war in here...etc. etc.. I LOVE this, this is my favorite way of looking at the world, and has been for years...I think it makes the whole elaborate dance seem just, sigh, magical. Or terrifying (depending on my mood).

2. That our specific consciousness/personality has a purpose.  i.e. that there is a point to waking up, and that point, ultimately, is SERVICE. Albeit, service filtered through our individual wants/needs and quirks, but service all the same.  This, also, I am in total agreement with. I would love to say that this too is something I have felt for years, but quite honestly, this is a new (and unexpected) part of my world-view. Not that I haven't always been a fan of service, I have...just for other people. In fact, I used to be a bit incredulous about other people even having a desire to be of service. Do people really DESIRE to do that?! It used to seem to me like something that people OUGHT to want to do, but never did I really believe that it was something that anyone ACTUALLY wanted to do. (Geez, what kind of obnoxious 20-something am I?!)...Well, some mysterious and totally unplanned change has taken place in me over the last year or so and suddenly I am reduced to tears everytime I read or hear or think about anyone doing any kind of service, and I am overwhelmed by a desire to do the same...to have my life be of some purpose to someone other than myself. (This does not so much go hand-in-hand with the ol acting career, but more on that some other time...).

And, finally...

3. That all of this is URGENT. She is actually stressing this last one a lot, and sometimes it makes me feel inspired, and sometimes it just makes me feel really stressed out...as if I don't have enough little voices in my head telling me that everything needs to happen RIGHT AWAY! Anyhow, I get what she means...the time is now, no more excuses, dooooooooo it.

And so our learning of the organ body has been subsumed by these other, broader, principles, each new part of the body now being accessed in order to add to and support this larger idea that I would like to sum up here as:

WAKE UP! NOW! OR ELSE!!

tee hee. no pressure.

(Addendum: As the length of this post is already spiraling out of control, I am going to hold off on the anatomy lesson until later...so those of you who were on pins and needles waiting for me to explain all about the pineal gland and why it's going to change your f-ing life, you'll have to hold on just a little bit longer.)

Let me just say that I am delighted to have ms. Judelle back in my life. She is a hard-core yoga philosopher, with excellent long limbs and a very contemplative way about her that I just love, and the twice-weekly extra-long "The Practice" classes that I take from her feel like an excellently well-priced master class. So, hooray, Tara! Welcome back!!

Next Week in Shanti-Town: Pineal Gland...drool-maker or soul-shaker? You be the judge.

Subtle Unrest

Last night I took class with the lovely and amazing Gina Zimmerman, who does this, and also this, and with whom I now have a nearly Pavlovian response when I attend her class--as soon as I step foot in the studio when she's teaching my nervous system automatically lets out a great big siiiiiiiiigh.

She is groovy and grounded and glorious and all kinds of other things that start with "G". Graceful! Girlish! Goober-y? No...sorry. That's me.

Anyhooo...last night Gina started out class asking us to "let this moment be enough"--meaning, you know, Get Here. Be Here. Actually and truly...HERE.

ME: Yes, yes, that sounds like a good idea...as soon as I get this one little problem I'm working on in my head solved, I will completely get on board with that.

And then she said something that caught my attention, she said--"if you're reaching for anything right now, grasping at something, can you just, put that down? Can you just let right now be enough?"

This caught my attention in such a way you would have thought my arms were actually raised in front of me, grabbing at the air--my entire body responded to it.  And I thought about how I've been re-reading and re-listening to some spiritual texts lately and all these new things have been popping up for me...one of them most recently while listening (for the umpteenth time) to a recorded lecture by Pema Chodron in which I heard her say that all spiritual practices are about relaxing.

All spiritual practices are about relaxing...I'm sorry, wait, all spiritual practices are about RELAXING?! I'm pretty sure that I thought at least some of them were about finally becoming perfect.... I really wish someone had told me this a long time ago, it would have made things a lot easier...

And as I went through class with Gina last night, as I felt myself over the course of the hour and a half, slowly begin to put my arms down, and felt my consciousness start to return to the place it most desperetely wants to live--my heart and my body and my big MIND (not my little brain) it kept occurring to me, over and over again, that whatever it is that softens you...is the right thing.

Whatever I can do...whatever I can focus on or contemplate or do or open to that SOFTENS me is the right thing. The path is all laid out--it is in fact this perfectly choreographed series of steps all plotted out and whispered to me via this feeling. Follow the softness! Follow the open-hearted gooeyness! The truth is that-a-way!!

And when we got to Savasana, I thought about how difficult a pose it can be for me sometimes, how even though all I'm doing is lying on the ground, still I can feel how much I pull away, how and where exactly it is I do not want, nor do I trust, the softening. And just as I was thinking about this (bemoaning it!) I heard Gina's lovely graceful grounded voice call out and ask us, "Can you let go of even the subtle unrest that most of us are usually hovering in?"

I could not have asked it more perfectly myself...

Us and Them...

Okay, the challenge of this post is actually going to be writing about this without DOING the exact thing that I 'm criticising...but here goes!

I've been encountering a little bit of troublesome "us and them"-ness in the yoga world of late, either from my own experience, or stories relayed to me by fellow yogis, in one or all of the following forms:

- We are Enlightened. They are Not:  This can be as harmless as a teacher telling a group of students that they are much more ____ than any of the other students they teach, or it can be a kind of, "some people practice THIS way (which is wrong), and thank god we practice THIS way (which is right).

- For those of you who attend class REGULARLY.  This one is pretty pernicious and I think is often unintended...teachers develop bonds with the students who come to class over and over again, totally normal, and because of that they are going to reference those students' practices or have those students demo or what-have-you, no big deal.... But, occasionally, a teacher will start to develop a little clique with their regularly attending or "favorite" students and it can start to feel like teach is more interested in "showing off for the cool kids" than engaging the entire class.

- Can you believe that people ________?! This is sort of related to the first one, but this is a bit more pointed and snarky--instead of highlighting why WE are so great, this one is all about why THEY are so not great. There are people in the world who have NO sense of their bodies! Ha ha ha, chuckle chuckle. Can you BELIEVE that?! Thank GOD we're not like THAT!

(Any of my teachers who read this blog, and you know who you are, this is NOT about you! Just fyi.)

This thing...this us and them-making...I think it's a little dangerous. I think it's completely human, totally understandable, and god knows I am guilty of it in my head at times...probably even on this blog...but I feel particularly concerned about it when I witness it in a class. Because what it encourages is the idea, in some form or another, that YOU are not like ME.

And if YOU are not like ME, then when you act in a way I don't like, I can say that you're flawed, and it doesn't reflect on me.

And if YOU are not like ME, then when I do something awesome, I don't really have to share it with you, because it's MINE--hands off.

And unfotunately, if YOU are not like ME, then we are bound together only by reciprocation, and as soon as you stop being or doing what I want...see ya! Don't need ya!

And I get to stay exactly, comfortably as I am.

I'm sure it's difficult, as a teacher, to know how to inspire students to reach for more and better, how to reward the most devoted of students for their devotion and how to just generally reassure everyone (and yourself) that we are on the right track with all of this, but I know for myself I am always most inspired, most moved and most reassured by those teachers who are inclusive and consider themselves accountable to the whole, not as only the intrepid leader, but as a fellow struggler-in-asana.

Earth Day!

Happy Earth Day!

What did you do for earth day?

I did...um...

uh...

I was really horriifed when I saw one of the cleaning people in my building had left the water running and I was going to turn it off but then I realized that she was filling something up...?

Um.

I...had judgemental thoughts about HumVees?...um.

Okay, no...I did do something, I did. I went to yoga (nevermind that I do that every day)...but, in honor of the 40th year of Earth Day, my teacher led us through 40 rounds of sun salutations.

40 people! Aw yeeeeeah.

This isn't actually very many, as people often do sets of 108 sun salutations at the changing of seasons and stuff, but I have never done 108 sun salutations (or probably really 108 of anything) and so for me, 40 was a lot. For those of you who don't know the sequence of a basic sun salutation (or, Surya Namaskar A), it's basically stand up, fold over, jump back, lower down, rise up, swing back, breathe breathe breathe, jump forward, stand up (and repeat). It's simple. It's juicy. And doing it all together in class, my fellow yogis and I collectively sounded like the ocean, breathing in and out, and our teacher pointed this out, asking, "isn't it beautiful that our breath is a reminder of the ocean? Of the constancy of the tides?"

Yes, it is!

So, I guess for Earth Day I spent a couple hours being the ocean.

That's pretty good, right?

Xo,
YogaLia

This Body is the Perfect Vessel...

Our bodies MUST BE the perfect device, the perfect carriage, the perfect tool...perfectly, perfectly, perfectly designed to faciliate the expression and cravings and purpose of our spirit. Why else would we have them?

The other day, when rubbing soap together between my two palms, I looked down into the bowl of my hand there, where the soap was resting, and realized--my god, it's perfect. It's the perfect soft little bowl to mix a potion and then rub on my face. The perfect vessel to carry water from the sink to my face. Made of the perfect materials to wash entirely clean. What is more efficient and versatile than that?

And I have to believe that everything, absolutely everything, about our bodies is this way.

And so if you have some grudge against your body...if you have some complaint you'd like to lodge with it...maybe take a look at it first, and ask yourself if the particulars of your little flesh-vessel might not just be perfectly designed to take you right where you need to go.

Which would YOU rather be?

I told you that this would happen...

I'm going to talk now a little bit about my shins. Shins, shins, shins...where do I begin(s)? Um, okay, a quick and total bastardization of the alignment principles of Anusara is to follow here, so bear with me if you're unfamiliar, and if you ARE familiar, I apologize in advance.

I've been working on the back body, I told you that...I've been working on inner and outer spiral, I think I mentioned that (it is what it sounds like--and it's mostly used in reference to the thighs, as in, one should be spiraling IN and one OUT in a one-leg-forward one-leg-behind kind of position, and both should be spiraling either in or out together if you're in a standing or seated pose where the legs are together. Got it? Good. Congratulations, you're certified.) I'm kidding, of course, that is an utterly terrible explanation of inner and outer spiral but I still don't totally get it myself and I don't have tiiiiiime, people, I don't have the tiiiiiiiiiiime!!

Ahem. Anyhoooo...so, I've been working on the ol' spirals and have been newly trying to incorporate for the last several weeks something called: "Shins In". Which basically means that your shins should be moving...um...in.

Shins. In.

This was another one of those instructions where when I first heard it I was basically like, "yeah, okay buddy, 'shins in' no problem. Got it." (to be read with intense sarcasm). This was not an I don't understand that, that's too complicated moment for me, this was a that sounds duuuuuuuuuumb and I'm sure I don't really need to pay attention to that moment.

(Cue all of my Los Angeles yoga teachers clutching hearts and looking horrified).

So, yes, I was ignoring Shins In. Because I kind of thought I was probably already doing it, I mean, I'm standing there in a forward bend, you know, torso and head hanging over my straight legs, and my teachers are telling me to, um, move my "shins in", but I'm not supposed to actually MOVE my shins, I'm just supposed to, you know, energetically draw them in. So, yeah...yeah, I'm probably just doing that, naturally. Because, I don't know if you've picked up on this yet, but I am very giiiiiiiiiifted at yooooooooooogaaaaaaah.

But all of this has changed! I have discovered Shins In! Well...what I've actually discovered is WHY we are asked to perform "shins in"...I'm sure I am far from having implemented it into my practice. But.

Here is the discovery in a nutshell:

A lady can hang over her own legs in two ways--she can be engaged, or she can be collapsed. And what I'm learning is that so much of the Anusara instruction: "hug to the midline!" "muscular energy!" "shins in!" "ankle loop!" "groins back!" is about building an engaged foundation...because if I'm NOT doing these things then what I'm doing, basically is just hanging over my legs. And if I'm just hanging over my legs, then probably, I don't know, I'm rolling slightly toward the outsides of my feet or my knees are splaying a little bit or I'm just collapsing all that heavy weight of my torso and my head smack down on top of my poor little hip flexors...and if all of that is happening then my hamstrings aren't being stretched correctly or safely and my low back and hips and knees and ankles are all at risk.

Basically I'm either like a drunk construction worker hanging over my legs or a lithe little ballerina hanging over my legs, and the thing that makes the difference is engagement. And in this case, in particular, the engagement of my shins. Because that little bit of energy directed to the shins sends a ripple affect of energy and attention all the way up and down my legs--reminding me to ground down, reminding me to engage.

It's funny, earlier this week I was listening to some recordings of some "spiritual teachers" (ick) that I love and I noticed something that each of them said that rang out as totally new, though I have definitely listened to these recordings before...both of them said something about how important it is not to be passive, but to be active...that we can't expect to see results from a bunch of loosey-goosey behavior, basically, and that actual progress and change requires focus and effort. So, as much as one might be hearing the instruction to let go or surrender...it is actually not possible TO surrender (i.e. hanging over ones legs), without engagement...focus and discipline.

I swear, I had NEVER heard that before...and it stuck out to me because it has been weeks full of conversations at my house about discipline and focus and how to find those things and how to use them. And what I realized that both of these teachers were saying...and what all of my yoga teachers are saying...and what also my dear wise better half at home is saying, is that you have to ENGAGE. You have to have to have to...you can hang over your legs all you want, but if you're not pulling in to that pose, if you're not hugging in to it from your pinky toes to the ends of your hair, you are missing something.

No Limits

Okay, so for those of you who don't know this already...I am an NPR junkie.

I grew up listening to NPR, spent many years as a child listening to our local station from the backseat of my parent's cars, but I truly became a die-hard never turn my back NPR listener in New York, while working nights as a word-processor at a law firm. Much of the work was solitary and tedious, but the saving grace was that we were allowed to wear headphones and listen to whatever we wanted while we worked. My music collection got old pretty quickly and so I soon began trolling the internet airwaves for other distractions.

That is when I found Ira Glass and This American Life. The. Best. Radio. Show. Ever. (Well, almost...but I'll get to that in a minute). When I tell you that I am a huge fan, I am not exaggerating. When I tell you that I am such a big fan that I sort of fell temporarily and madly in love with Ira Glass, I am not exaggerating. When I tell you that I am such a big fan I wrote an overly long and overly poetic fan letter to aforementioned adorably nerdy host, I am not exaggerating. And when I tell you that I have listened to EVERY SINGLE EPISODE of This American Life from 1995 to the present, I am not exaggerating.

(that's 403 episodes, but who's counting?)

That show saved my life...I have vivid memories of sorting files in a conference room at some ungodly hour and weeping over some touching story being piped through my headphones.

And from there my tastes expanded...Fresh Air, Speaking of Faith, Wait Wait Don't Tell Me! (okay, that one is just nerdy), and most recently...Radio Lab.

Dear, sweet Radio Lab...the scientific step-sister of This American Life. If you have never heard of this show...go find it, and listen to an episode. I suggest the episode on Sleep as a starting place. Radio Lab is a much less prolific show than TAL, producing only a handful of shows per season (the new season starts this week!!), partly because it is highly produced and takes, I'm sure, many many man hours to put together.

Wait, so...what does any of this have to do with anything?

Um...

Ah, yes. Limits. Limits, limits, limits.

So, the most recent episode of Radio Lab is called "Limits", and the first story in the episode is about a woman named Julie Moss, who competed in the 1982 Iron Man Triathalon in Hawaii, having never ever competed in anything like a triathalon before, having no real distance training in anything, and not even really understanding the HUGEness of something like a triathalon. (In case you don't know, a triathalon is a 2.4 mile swim, a 112 mile bike rice and an entire 26 mile MARATHON.)

Yes. That.

So, the story that Ms. Moss tells--and I'll just paraphrase here, because I highly suggest you listen to it--is that she realizes, mid-way through the race, that she is doing REALLY WELL. And in fact, many miles into the marathon part of the event, she is in first place. And when she realizes this (she's only a college student at the time she did the race) she gets really attached to the idea of winning--she feels like she has just found something she's really good at, and she wants to, well, keep that feeling. But her body, totally unused to this kind of physical TORMENT, does not cooperate. And when she is almost to the finish line, her body gives out, in a myriad of ways, and though she wants more than anything to quit...she doesn't.

I'm attaching the video of the final moments of her race here so you can see it for yourself (it's mind-boggling)...



That's right. She crawls to the finish line. Her body has thrown her to the ground over and over again, but she does. Not. Stop.

And in the interview for Radio Lab she talks about how when she was on the ground, totally spent, this little voice in her just insistently urged her to "get up", and she concludes the entire story by declaring, about the human being and our bodies and our spirits..."there are no limits."

"None?" The hosts ask.

"Nope." She says.

"Nope."

And I found this story so moving...moving in that unplaceable way...moving in a way that my whole body responded to...not because she wasn't a quitter--that's such a rigid idea anyhow, that we're never allowed to quit anything--but because she was just determined to finish. That's it. She was determined to finish...and she did. Against all odds. Against the total rebellion of her body.

And it made me think about how often it is that we are right near the finish line in our lives...almost there...almost in contact with what we want or who we are, and how many times that is the moment when everything goes beserk. And it made me think about how those moments in our life are such decisive moments, how they might be the moments when everything in us and around us is telling us to lie down, to give up, to rest...but that there is another choice. There is a choice to summon up the deepest reserves of who we are and what we want, and to push forward. EVEN if it's not going to be the triumphant finish we thought it would be...even if we might be humiliated in the process...we still have a choice.

If there are no limits, then it means that ANYTHING which is thrown at us can be overcome, and that no matter where we're standing...even if we're not standing at all...even if we're lying on the track in our own, um, you-know-what...still we can get up and go forward. And if we can't get up, we can crawl. But we can get there.

xoxo
YogaLia

Being Nice to Mickey Rourke (almost).

 Okay, so I'm in the grocery store...it's Friday, I've just dropped my man off at the airport and I have decided to buy myself some food-stuffs for the long and lonely weekend. And I'm feeling happy and breezy and plotting the curry I'm going to make myself for lunch, and at one point during my shop-a-ganza, I cross paths with an older gentleman of the Mickey Rourke variety. You know the type? Overly tanned, long-haired, could be 40 could be 60, possibly...drunk? No major interaction, just a crossing of paths and I noticed him noticing me...with my girl radar. My lady readers know the radar I'm talking about...it's the tiny warning light that goes off when someone of the male persuasion is overly aware of your existence. It's a little built in lady-alarm that just calls out, "be aware! Be aware!".

So, I don't think much of it, until said Rourke-esque figure ends up in line behind me at the checkstand (out of the blue) and starts chatting me up about my hummus. Yes, my hummus.

Not-Mickey-Rourke:
Hey, I didn't know they had that hummus here!

Me:
Oh, mmhmm. It's right over there actually. (And I point to the distant corner where they keep the hummus and where, I'm hoping, he will go.)

NMR:
They sell the big size of that kind at the Armenian Market.

Me:
The Armenian Market? (I don't know why exactly I'm continuing this conversation except, A. This is my very favorite hummus we're talking about and I would actually LOVE to find a place that sells "the big size". B. I think that Paul would really dig an Armenian Market and maybe I could take him there, and C. A friend of mine just did a film with "the Armenian Tyler Perry" (no joke) and I guess I'm kind of fascinated with Armenia.)

MNR:
(Tells me locale of Armenian Market. Sort of smells like booze.)

Me:
(giving wan smile, pretending to dig for something in my bag, really frustrated that check-out girl is taking her sweet, sweet time.)

I was SO uncomfortable readers, so uncomfortable that I had to ask myself WHAT exactly it was that I was uncomfortable with? Am I scared of Not-Mickey-Rourke? Do I think if I talk to him in any kind of direct eye-contact actually engaged conversational way that he's going to chase me out of the store and down the street to my house? Am I worried he's going to somehow divine secret information about me based on my purchase of almond milk and chicken breasts and henceforth have some kind of power over me?

And as I'm contemplating all of this, the check-out woman finishes with my groceries and turns toward Mr. NMR and starts to ring him in. And as I'm putting my credit card back in my wallet I hear him greet the check-out woman...and he says hello to her in the most, I don't know, warm way that I immediately feel like a...jerk.  He is so respectful of the woman behind the register and present with her in a way that I definitely was NOT (as I was busy trying to avoid making eye-contact with NMR) that I realize that maybe, just maybe, I have built an entire story about this guy based on absolutely nothing. Maybe he was just trying to be friendly and tell me about a good hummus store!

I attempted to salvage the moment by thanking him for the recommendation as I picked up my bags, but I kept thinking about it as I made my way out to the car. I felt frustrated, frustrated that as a woman in a large city I feel a certain kind of prickly defensiveness in the face of any un-asked-for attention from a man I don't know. Some of this is wise, I suppose, or at least definitely warranted...but it makes me feel closed. And I hate feeling closed.

And so as I set my many plastic bags into the back of my car I made a promise to myself, that I would not continue to close myself off to the world...not when I'm in an obviously safe situation (like the grocery store) because who knows how many Armenian markets might pass me by un-visited, and how many perfectly nice strangers might feel like they were just a bit more invisible than they ought to feel, and mainly because, I don't want to be that woman in the world. I don't want to pretend to dig for my keys when I could be making eye-contact, and I certainly don't want to feel like the world is a place that I have to be afraid of.

Sub-a-dub-dub

 So, there have been a lot of teacher absences at my studio lately, and due to that, there has been a whole lot of THIS lately:

Student walks in to yoga studio, yoga duds on, mat on shoulder, picks up pen, begins to sign in and then stops, abruptly:

Student: "Oh, (insert name of favorite teacher here) isn't teaching?"

Front Desk Worker: "No she's (insert sick/traveling/some other plausible teacher absence excuse here). (Insert name of substitute teacher here) is teaching instead."

Student. "Oh." Puts down pen. "I didn't know."

And then said student turns around and WALKS OUT of studio.

This, people, happens all the time.

I get it, that we develop relationships with teachers and favorite teachers and that when we're bopping our little way to class we're imagining the familiar and beloved teaching style of aforementioned favorite teacher and it can be a big bummer to show up and find out that someone else is teaching. Especially if you don't know the sub or double-especially if you're in some kind of mood that is desperate for the teaching wizardry of your favorite and familiar teach. But, seriously, come on, you're going to LEAVE?! I mean, you've got your yoga pants on! You drove here! You have the hour and a half free!! You have your yoga pants ON! (I know I already said that, it seemed worth mentioning twice...)

I have also seen the faces of substitute teachers to whom this has happened and it's a tiny bit heartbreaking...class sizes shrink down to nothing all because no one knows who you are. And students can be downright insensitive of this whole transaction, making faces and sizing up said unknown subby-dub-dub with a cold, "do I like this" impersonality.

I witnessed one of these substitute-teacher-ditchers the other day and the girl working the front desk at the studio and I shared a moment after said student exited the studio (yoga pants on)...we both see it all the time and are equally confused by it.

"When I feel that way," she said, "that's when I feel like I really have to use my Yoga."

(I love this! As if yoga is like "the force"!)

But she was right...of course you're going to feel that way, at least on certain days--I don't know this person, I don't want to take from this person, but at some point you have to look at that resistance with some curiousity and say, okay, maybe this is EXACTLY the moment to take from someone new. This is the moment to Use My Yoga. Because honestly, part of what happens when you take from a new teacher is that you have to pay a different kind of attention, you may have to deal with whatever feelings you have about proving yourself or hiding away, and you might have to try some stuff you don't like--all very fertile yogic learning opportunities. And it's possible it will ALL be stuff you don't like. I've had those experiences, where I show up and take from a new person and for whatever reason the teaching just does not jive with me...and even though it's aggravating, those are also the moments in which I learn the most. Because I get grumpy and I disappear from my practice and then my mat becomes a deeper training ground for bringing myself back to myself, even in the midst of the grumps.

The familiar is lovely, it is...especially if it's a well-loved familiar, but the willingness to try something for which we will not know the outcome is so vital. It's so easy to accidentally make our lives small--to build it full of prescriptions and safe, known, choices--that I think sometimes we have to just push ourselves into that uncomfortable moment and say, "okay...let me see how this goes...". Maybe this is reading too much into what might seem like a simple choice, but I think that the great gift of the yoga practice is that all of these choices DO mean something...and if you take it seriously, then that uncomfortable "this isn't what I wanted" moment can be a place of learning, and an opportunity to shift.

So, ladies and gents, next time you show up to class and see a name you don't know on top of the sign-in sheet...go anyways. The sub will thank you...and so will you.


xo,
YogaLia

Being Best...

Yesterday morning, while en route to yoga class I was struck, briefly, by the jealousy monster. Ol' green eyes herself. She came on suddenly--I was hustling in to a coffee shop near the yoga studio to grab a pre-class Cliff Bar and Vitamin Water (blog sponsorship, anyone?) when I suddenly found myself FUMING, yes fuming, about some news I had previously received about the rocket-like ascension of the career of a more-than-acquaintance-less-than-friend friend. Yes, that's right, FUMING over the SUCCESS of another. I will spare you the details of said fume-fest, but I will salvage my own dignity by telling you that I did catch myself in the middle of it and ask myself a stern, "what are you doing?!"

And then, in a moment of clarity, with a kind of roused from a walking dream slow waking, I asked myself again (in earnest this time), "wait...what AM I doing?" As in, what exactly am I upset about? As in, why on earth would another person's success make me...mad?

Is it because I think said person is unworthy? Definitely not. Said person is wildly talented and also just all-around cool and interesting, so no. Not that.

Is it because said person's success impinges directly on my ability to be successful? Like, there's only 11 servings of successful career to go around and said person just took the last one? Noooo.

Is it because I am now no longer going to be able to be successful because said person did exactly what I was planning on doing and now I'm just going to be a cheap imitation? Again, no.

So what is it? What on earth could be upsetting and also near panic-inducing about someone else climbing a ladder perhaps just a bit quicker than me?

I didn't come to an answer then and there, but instead decided to let it percolate while I sweated it out in class. And percolate it did...

The theme of class that day (this is always how it works, by the way, that undoubtedly whatever I'm struggling with will SOMEHOW be the theme of the practice) was effort and surrender and knowing oneself well enough to know when to do one and when to do the other. I already know myself well enough to know that I almost always err on the side of too much effort not enough surrender, and I thought that I would have this new thing to think about...this "surrender" thing, and that maybe I could just let the whole raging envy situation subside of it's own accord.

And then, something happened.

I started having a little (tiny) minor irritation during class about, well, about other students getting more praise than me. (Oh my god, any of my teachers who are reading this...my apologies. For being ridiculous.) Anyhow, I was having this like "oh I'm having an off day, why aren't I doing as well as so-and-so...". Right? Nevermind that I'm in a class I rarely go to and nevermind that I AM doing just FINE. It was just that...wait...what was it?

It was just that...

I...

Wasn't...

the...

BEST.

I wasn't the BEST in class.

And that's when it dawned on me.  I wasn't upset about said rising star above because said rising star has what I want...and I wasn't upset in class because other yogis could do what I couldn't...and, hell, half of all my career anxiety LIFE anxiety is not simply because I'm not as far along in certain areas as I want to be, it's because some part of my adorably misguided brain thinks that I am supposed to be THE BEST at everything. Not MY best, people. THE. BEST. Better than everyone else at EVERYTHING I try. Even if not the most talented, than at least, well...cutest while attempting, or something like that.

And as this was occurring to me in class I automatically thought, well, EVERYONE feels that way...

Or...do they?

WAIT! Do other people NOT feel that way? Are there other people who don't walk into every situation expecting to win best in show? And if not, well...oh my god, that sounds NICE! Then what do they...I mean how do they...

KABOOOM!!!

(that's the sound of my brain exploding).

If I didn't feel like I had to be THE BEST at everything then I could focus on...doing...MY best? Or, this one is way out in left field but, just...enjoying myself? (This is the moment when choirs of little singing angels alight on my shoulders.)

I'm being a little dramatic about this, and it's not as if this has never occurred to me before, but for some reason seeing it in this particular way...that there is some part of my really and truly attempting to be BETTER at EVERYTHING than EVERYONE...well, it made me feel completely ridiculous and therefore just a tiny bit liberated. It also helped that I have long ago learned that my holding myself to these kinds of standards is exactly the thing that keeps me from being MY best, let alone THE best.