Where I Been, Where I Be, Where I Be Goin...

Enough said?

NOTE: This is not MY pregnant belly. This is a random internet image of a pregnant belly. I just liked it.

NOTE: I am, however, pregnant.

NOTE: It is, also in fact, a girl.

Oh, wow, you might be saying, that's great, did you just find out? Is that why we're only hearing about this now?

Um....

Weeeelll....

The truth is, I'm due soon. Increasingly sooner and sooner-er. Mid March, to be specific. So, no, I did not just find out. Have I been thinking about posting about it here for quite awhile? Yes. Have I been encouraged by others to write, in particular, about the pregnancy in this space? Yes, I have. Have I done any of that? No, I have not.

Oh, Shanti Towners...what can I even say for myself?

I will start with this...early on in the pregnancy I spent one tearful afternoon telling a very close friend (who is a new mother) all about how much trouble I was having getting work done...how I had made a commitment to myself this year to take my creative work more seriously and now, with the due date looming like a giant measuring stick (you must have gotten THIS much done in order to ride this ride), I was feeling...lost.  What exactly was I supposed to be focusing on? Where exactly was I supposed to be putting my energy? And who, for the love of ______, was I exactly, anyhow?

Said friend listened very politely to my struggle and then reminded me, as gently as possible, that I was currently involved in the biggest creative project of my life...the creation of another human being...and that it made sense that perhaps I did not feel like I had as much out in my output these days.

So I have allowed myself, Shanti Towners, a bit of a paring down, these last several months.  My creative energies have been going to projects outside of this blog, and that includes, in large part, to the creative project currently taking place in my belly. Hence the prolonged absence.

Which I can not promise you will not continue, but hopefully even the continued absence will be punctuated with some shouts and giggles from the other side.

As for now, as the due date moves closer, I find myself in the midst of a necessary shedding...a space-making, a time-taking, a head-clearing. Which sounds, I'm sure, very lovely and maybe even easy to some of you...but trust me, for this lady, it's not. It's not at all easy. It's confusing. And on certain days, it's hard to know exactly what I'm putting down, and for how long, and how and if and when exactly I will pick it back up again.

It is a time, for me, of learning (re-learning) how to trust the process.  What happens when you let something go? What happens when you trust that just because you're not actively worried about/working on/obsessing about something, it does not mean that something will disappear from your life or your heart? What happens when you give yourself space to just breathe and to be and to connect, whether or not you think you've "earned" it? What happens then? Does everything fall apart like your busy brain tells you it will...or does something else happen? Does something get clearer? Does anything?

For the moment...I'm not sure. But I'll let you know what I find out...

Until then, Shanti-Towners...sending you lots and lots of love...

The Simplicity of Trees...

I keep thinking back these days to the very first time I encountered what could be called a spiritual teaching. Well, maybe it wasn't the first time I encountered one, but it was the first time I encountered one that encountered me, back.

I was twenty-four. I was miserable. I was miserable primarily because I was feeling like a failure as an actress, but I was also miserable in much deeper ways, ways that I couldn't quite understand. I just knew that some days I felt happy and some days I didn't and the days I didn't were nearly as many (and oftentimes more) than the days I did. And I had a friend, a woman many years older than me, who said to me one day, very simply, hey, there's something I think you should hear, and she introduced me to some teachings. Just some audio-cassettes of a teacher that she followed, giving a seminar.

We listened to them in her car as we drove around near her home in upstate New York.

I don't remember, honestly, if I was skeptical going into it. I don't think I had expectations one way or the other. I hadn't been exposed to much, other than my brief brush with Episcopalianism when I was young, but I wasn't naive, and usually I was wary of such things. In fact, as a teenager and early twenty-something I prided myself on my skepticism.  I mean, I have no idea how I appeared to the outside world, but in my head I was a chain-smoking no-nonsense fuck-you-guys kind of chick. (On the inside, I didn't like myself very much, but that's another story). Point being, I wasn't starry-eyed, you know? I wasn't looking for some solution. I had no thought in my head that what I was about to listen to would be anything other than...interesting.

But, what happened was actually pretty dramatic. I don't know how to describe the experience except that I knew, cellularly, in my bones, as I listened to those tapes, that I was hearing truth. Possibly for the first time. And maybe it was because I didn't have expectations, or the timing was just so exactly, perfectly, right...but I think I changed. I think I had one of those experiences where you actually change, from top to bottom, in an instant.  I was able to literally put down everything that was worrying me, confusing me, upsetting me, dragging me down, and turn, 180 degrees, into the light.

And I stayed there.

I remember the next day, I was standing in her dining room, looking out this window she had that faced a little copse of trees (I have written about this before here on this blog, forgive me for the repeat). I remember I was standing there and I was just trying to take in the beauty of the trees. Because part of what happened, when I opened up like that, in her car the day before, is I realized that I had stopped looking at the world. I hadn't been appreciating the beauty of the world around me. And so I was standing there, looking at the trees, standing in this blissful interior silence, when an old voice arose. What about all the things you have to do..... It started to say.  What about getting a job or fixing that old relationship? Why should you get to stand here and admire trees? Etc., etc....

And I remember I just very simply addressed the marauding voice and said, no...you're not ruining this for me. And it, and it's accompanying dark feelings, vanished as quickly as it came. And, in that moment I felt an immense power. I can do this, I thought. I can really do this.

Fast-forward seven years.

I have learned a lot more. I have read a lot more. I have been through a lot more. I have even been through an extended period of time where what I thought I found disappeared completely. Entirely. With no sign of return.  I have swung back and forth and gained and lost footing, and landed ultimately, most of the time, somewhere in the middle. Which is not a terrible place to land.

But I have been thinking back to this first moment. Because, there was something that was so clear, in that first encounter, which has become...confused. It's challenging to read so much, to listen to so much, to hear so many reasonable voices of truth (and some not so reasonable), to hear ideas and prescriptions that sound like ways in, only to discover that they are not maybe ways in for YOU. And I'm talking about the spiritual path but I'm also talking about the path of an artist, the path of a career, the path of making a home and a family...it is possible to take too much in. It's possible to want and expect too much, and for that wanting and that expectation to be the very thing that keeps you from the simplicity of looking at trees.

So, today the mantra is to remember the simple way. To remember the crystalline quality of truth. It's not complicated. It's not effortful. It's not pre-planned. It's the thing that makes your bones feel like they're humming. Just look for that feeling, and most likely, you're on the right path.

Back in Action...

So, you may very well be asking yourselves, if you're still reading this blog...if ANYONE is still reading this blog...

Um...where did the blogger go? 

I, the bloggee...I am here, dutifully it seems, more dutifully than aforementioned blogger. So...what's with that? One can not exist without the other. Especially after one (aformentioned bloggee) has already combed through the archives to see if there's anything either a. interesting to read, so that your visit to this blog was not a complete waste of time, or b. some explanation as to the radio silence.

I am hopeful that there is some of option a. available.  I am well aware there is none of option b.

Oh, Shanti-Towneres...where do I begin?

First of all, let me assure you that there is no tragedy or crises or meltdown to be blamed for my absence. That is a good thing. However, that does mean that blame rests squarely on my shoulders for this stunning lack of blog upkeep over the past several months. 

The honest truth, and put as simply as I am able--I am having a re-shifting of priorities. And I haven't quite known how to talk about it. At least, not here. My family and closest friends have had earfuls. But  you, sweet Shanti-towners, many of whom are ALSO close friends...I have not known how to talk to you about it, mainly because:

1.  I don't want to seem like this girl:

2. Because it's complicated, yo.  And;

3. Well, because, most everyone in my life has been so supportive of my embrace of yoga and my transition into teaching, that I haven't wanted to let anyone down or seem like a flaaaaaaake. (Again, please reference video, above).

Now, the whys and what-fors of this re-calibration are really, I promise you, deadly boring, unless you live inside my head, or maybe if you're married to me, and even then, it's only interesting insofar as it relates to my day-to-day happiness.

But the outcome of the why-ing and what-for-ing is: I have realized I am not done pursuing a career as a writer and actress. I thought that I might be. It turns out I'm not. So. What does that mean to you?

Well, possibly absolutely nothing. But, if you're a reader of this blog, it just means that the focus of my writing here and my exploration about life and practice and love and and and...will just be expanding a bit to (re)include my creative work, as well as my yoga practice.  Other than that...onward and upward!

Thank you, so much, for hanging in there.

I'm back. I promise. For reals.

xo

YogaLia

Why Perfection Ain't It...

I have some breaking news, I hope you're all sitting down...

I.  Am NOT.  Perfect.

I just found this out myself pretty recently and believe me, I'm just as shocked as you are.  But get this!!  Not only am I not currently perfect, but I will NEVER be perfect.  (This is the one that really knocked me for a loop...).

But folks, here's what I've been slowly discovering, about this whole "perfection" thing:  If you believe you either a. can achieve perfection, b. are destined to achieve perfection and therefore c. MUST achieve perfection, you will tend to feel...DISAPPOINTED ALL THE TIME.

I was in a class the other day, one of the extra-long "practice" classes, where the teacher practices along with the students and, depending on the teacher, goes yoga pose ca-ra-zay...and in this particular class, with this particular energetic (and lovely) teacher, I was BY FAR the least capable student in the room.  There were, just, oodles of poses I couldn't even attempt, but which everyone else could, and did...and my first response was a feeling of being...affronted.

How DARE they all be able to do these poses I don't know how to do...don't they know who I aaaaaaaam?!  I am one of the lucky few who drives herself to distraction with the deep ceaseless drive for perfection!!  No, better even...I am one of those rarefied ones who knooooows deep in her heart that she is destined for perfection and so deserves any present day misery in service of the larger goal, and how dare you screw that up by proving me to be only (argh!)...oooooordiiiiinaaaaaary!

And I remembered how the last time I took an acting class I had this feeling...this feeling that I was not (god forbid) the BEST in the class and that my imperfection was being displayed for all to see, and how just tormented I was by it.  And I remember that I was cleaning a bathroom one night after class, just scrubbing and ruminating, when this thought occurred to me...

"If I didn't think that I am supposed to always be the very best at everything I do...if I didn't HAVE to be best in class...what would happen?"

And I realized that I would be...well, I would be the actress that I actually AM.  That maybe instead of being ashamed and disappointed that I was not living up to my own expectations of total f-ing perfection, maybe I would actually be able to see IN REALITY what my strengths and weaknesses are.

And if...if I look at those actual strengths and weaknesses and I (horror of horrors) turn out to be just...human.  Just a woman with a career and a family and a...life.  Then what?  Does that mean I don't count?  If I don't turn out to be a world-changing media-shaking titan (which, I have to say, since I'm nearly 30 and have like $2 in the bank, doesn't exactly seem EMINENT)...what, I'm just going to be disappointed my whole life?  Not just disappointed, but robbed of my present day experience because none of it "measures up"?!  Never knowing or being able to feel good about the place I'm currently standing in?

And I went back to that class, determined to be my imperfect self, and things turned around for me.  I became...with myself.  And my work got better.  And the praise I wanted, the feeling of satisfaction I wanted, the feeling that good work was being done...all came, effortlessly.

And I watch myself in yoga classes now, and I watch my students in class with me when I teach, and I see how often (even though it's not supposed to be part of the game) there is this sense of embarrassment when we can't do something...like if only not for that, no one would know we're not perfect.  Or at least WE wouldn't have to be faced with it.  And that's just...missing the bigger picture. 

Because, no matter what it is...how we are as an artist or a partner or a mother or a child, I think it's all just an opportunity for us to experience ourselves and our lives as they actually are and not, as so many of us seem to use them for, one more opportunity to measure ourselves against our own impossible standards.

So, Shanti-towners, go out there and be imperfect!! Let your average flag fly!!  You might just notice yourself breathing a big sigh of relief...

xo
YogaLia

Contradictions, baby.

Early on it becomes clear that yoga is a practice of contradictions, the largest one being, (among many others such as "root down and lift up", "curl in and open", "do this unbearably hard thing and breathe slooooowly"), that one must be Strong and also Soft.

I have been thinking a lot about this contradiction as it applies to my own life...

Early on in the LA-chapter of my practice one of my teachers talked about how visible it was in a person's practice what side of this equation they fell on: the uber-open-hearted, whose practice is loose and graceful but also sort of jelly-like and therefore wide-open for injury, and in the other corner, the rigid rule-adherer, whose practice sparkles technically but lacks that OOMPH of joy and soft-heartedness. He said that neither of these are ideal on their own, but both must be present in the practice. Things need to be strong and lined up and active, but the center must, must, must be soft.

Artists know this, instinctually. I know this as an actress--that there is a sort of sweet-spot right in the middle where preparation and hard-work meet up with in-the-moment ALIVE-ness--wherein the performance just lights up. I understand this as an artist--I still struggle with sometimes allowing myself to soften, but I understand it.

In my life, however, I find this contradiction totally f-ing confusing.

(excuse my language)

How, how, how am I supposed to be driven and be focused and have a vision of what I want and go after it and never say die and just like Will Smith my way into success AND be present and be open and "go with the flow"?!? (um, I'm not really sure about the Will Smith reference...I think I watched some bio of him at some point where he seemed all "I will manifest my dreams" ish.)

This is sort of a rhetorical question (sort of), but I have so often felt that I yo-yo between two poles: either completely engaged in a kind of "hustle", doing and doing and doing, OR throwing my hands up in the air, pledging to "just be", and spending way too much time journaling.

Neither is comfortable.

Neither is fruitful.

And, neither lasts.

So I know that there is an in-between point. I know that there is a sweet-spot, where both things exist...I have yet to FIND it, but I know that it exists. That isn't entirely true of course...it's there when it's there. It's there when I'm engaged in what I'm doing without being worried about the outcome of what I'm doing.

Let me say that again:  It's there when I'm engaged in what I'm doing without being worried about the outcome of what I'm doing.

As soon as I start to ask, "is this enough?", it's gone. As soon as I start to ask, "am I doing this right?", it's gone. As soon as I start to ask, "is there something else I'm supposed to be doing?", it's gone. And so I'm beginning to learn that the contradiction IS it. The pose is not one or the other, not soft or strong, it's both. And likewise my life can not be just effort or just ease--it must be both.

Root down and lift up.

Curl in and open.

Engage and release.

Inhale and exhale.

Inhale.

and

Exhale.

The Yoga of Fear...

So, the other day on my way to class, for no apparent reason, I was struck with a large and penetrating fear. The kind that washes your whole body--the kind that makes your heart race and your stomach go all quibbly. It was not connected to anything in particular (though I soon found something to connect it to, clever, quick-minded girl that I am. Note: Sarcasm), but it did come on the heels of an up and down day in which, among other things, I fired my agent.

That's right. I fired my agent.

Well, why is that? You ask. Is it because you have legions of other bigger, better agencies pounding down your door?

Nooo, not exactly.

Well then, why? Is it because it's sort of a slow season, and not the middle of pilot season, and you have some other meetings set up?

Noo, no, not that either.

Oh. Well it must be because your agent did something HORRIBLE like lost you a job or something?

Uh, no. Nope. Nopers.

I'm confused, YogaLia, what prompted this sudden termination?

Well, quite honestly, blog of mine, I fired him because he wasn't doing anything. I fired him because in the 7 months we have been working together, he did not procure me one single solitary audition. And also, and maybe mostly, I fired him because I needed to hear myself stand up for myself. I needed to know that the me who understands that I deserve better, much better, is still around and ready to take charge.

But that doesn't mean I wasn't sort of thrown off balance by the whole thing...I was. I wanted him to fight for me, and he didn't. I wanted the phone to ring right after with a sudden out of the blue call for a job that I could then rub in former agent's face, and it didn't. And so, on my way to class I was feeling a bit...adrift.

Hence, perhaps, the wave of fear. The wave of fear that felt very much like the fear of the possiblity of total groundlessness, and probably in fact WAS the fear of the possibility of total groundlessness, and which, all the same, took me by surprise and spun me nearly upside-down.

Now, let me add here that fear is my go-to emotion in most stressful situations. I hate to admit that. And I'll amend it by saying, that for all that, I still consider myself a pretty fearless person. But I WORRY. I worry...a lot. And when things get tough, instead of some good ol' fashioned anger, I tend to turn to...fear.

And as I walked into class, this feeling sort of DRIPPING off of me, I thought something along the lines of "Goddamnit. This again." Because I knew which way that road leadeth, if you know what I mean. I am very familiar with the ins and outs and ups and downs of the highway of worry that is carved in me, and I am, to say the very least, sick of driving those roads.

And I didn't want another moment of my life stolen by worry. And I did not want my yoga to be tainted, in any way, by the nonsense of worry.

And so as I sat down, I reviewed my options:

A. Spend class worrying. Go through motions with body.

B. Spend class fighting worry. Go through motions with body.

And then, suddenly, a third option presented itself to me. Something along the lines of:

C. Don't fight it.

Don't fight it.

Don't.

Fight.

It.

And I felt, as I considered this option, the strangest sensation. I felt the feeling of the worry intensify (as so much of the reasoning with/explaining away/fretting over is really an attempt by the mind to get away from the FEELING present in the body) and then I felt myself sort of--I don't know how else to explain it--sort of "drop in" to the feeling.

The feeling didn't go away, I wasn't suddenly transported to bliss-land, but I was FEELING what I was FEELING. And it wasn't altogether unpleasant.

My body was tingling. My chest was aching, like a heart aching in its shell. My cells were all alive and jiggly, but there was also--warmth. There was also an aliveness. And, it seemed at least, that maybe my heart wasn't pounding nearly so fast as I thought. I even felt, paradoxically, quite relaxed and attentive inside all the swirling feeling. The swirling feeling was still THERE, that's important to note, but I wasn't fighting it anymore.

And in that moment I really thought, oh my god, THIS is what I'm running away from? All that figuring out/examining/reassuring/lambasting, etc., is all just an attempt not to do THIS? Not to sit in the middle of THIS?

And I thought of all the times I've been told to be present. And I thought of how often I think of presence as being present to that which is OUTSIDE myself, and rarely do I think of my emotional state as a circumstance to be present to--just as valid as being present to sounds in a room or any of the other things I urge myself to pay more attention to.

And I felt such compassion for myself--for this intricate system that calls out to me and calls out to me and which I ignore or deem "bad" over and over again, in attempt to change the feeling that is present. And not going anywhere.

It was a powerful practice, needless to say. It was a practice that had little to do with the asana and so much more with standing out on that ledge--because it's a risk, isn't it? To be presented with a feeling that is uncomfortable and to say, I will not attempt to FIX you--I will not attempt to fix this moment--I will sit smack dab in the middle of it and experience it from tip to toe.

Not Yet Done...!

I'm sure you have all given up.

I would have, by now.

I almost did...

But, I've decided, no! I'm going to give it another go! I am NOT going to be hushed by my own busy-ness or anything else!

It's an interesting thing actually...the meshing of this practice with my life, and maybe the last several weeks have been an illustration of the front burner/back burner switcharoo that must naturally take place as my acting career ebbs and flows. Lately there has been a lot of flowing, for which I am truly grateful, but I won't pretend that my yoga practice hasn't suffered. My steady five classes/week has hovered around 3 on my busiest weeks, and I can FEEL the difference. My legs and arms get cranky for movement, and I, too, get cranky. I want to chide myself for being so dependent on a practice to feel at home in my body (and in my life, oftentimes) but then I remember that I ought to just shut up and be grateful. How did I ever get along before??

I am settling in to the speed of my schedule now and am making a larger effort to get my ass to class and am nearly back to my previous schedule, and am no worse for the wear, thankfully. In fact, I feel like some small gap has been closed and am more intimately connected to the asana than ever before. I'm convinced that part of this is due to my newly found attentiveness to my core throughout the practice. There is such a lot of fire and dynamism down there!

Oh, Shanti Town, I have so much to catch you up on! The Yoga Conference at the Sheraton! My ensuing obsession with Seane Corn. (Seriously. I love her.)! Halloween Yoga! My new favorite teacher at the studio! More Edward stories! There is so, so much...

But, in time. In time.

For now, I would just like to say...I'm sorry to have been away so long. I can't promise it won't happen again, but my hope is to always return, no matter the absence...

After a while...

Um, I think my yoga blog ego suffered a bit of a blow a while back...hence the silence.

Possibly it's because no one is reading this. Or, if you are, (sorry) you are loved, and I apologize for the absence. Not to worry! All is well! It's just been days and then weeks and now, gulp, many weeks of hemming and hawing over the whats and whens and hows of my life.

Concretely: I will not be going to yoga school, I will be acting my pants off in several wonderful plays.

One door closes, another opens. Or sometimes; there's only room for one door at a time, which seems more ept.

My practice, however, is flourishing. Handstand and Forearm stand are inching their way towards me (or I towards them) and it will be only a matter of time now before I do not need the wall OR for the teacher to just come over and "stand by me while I do it" (How old am I?!!). It's the same for falling back into wheel...a brilliant and visceral hesitation to be overcome. For all of these poses it is the same:

I am strong enough to do it
I am flexible enough to do it
I have the form and the training to do it
I will not, probably, injure myself...

But all, also, require a supreme letting go. There is a moment, in each of these poses (whether coming up or coming down) where conscious control has to be relinquished and the body trusted (that legs and arms and neck will go where intended) and it is this moment (which widens out into a Grand Canyon of moments) in which I...pause. And in the pause I lose it all.

A teacher once said to me, "let your breathe be louder than your thoughts" and it was a revelation of sorts...or rather, a beautiful way to trick the mind. Example:

BODY: Time for handstand...

MIND: Um, okay. Okay, yes, cool. Cool. We can do this. I mean, woah, you're not going to do it right HERE, are you?

BODY: Yeah, I was...

MIND: What if you kick that girl? What if you fall weird on her block and you break your neck?!

BODY: I don't think, um...

MIND: Just, how about, how about just a little farther away from the wall? Baby steps. Baby steps.

BODY: No, I'd like to try it in the middle of the room.

MIND: I don't know. I don't know. I'm not really going to kick hard enough to accomplish that just to be sa--

BODY: Inhale. Exhale.

MIND: Are you--

BODY: INHALE

MIND: listen--

BODY: EXHALE..

INHALE...

(mind fading away into small birdlike whine...)

EXHALE...

etc. etc...

Ah, sigh. It could be that way, it really could. The microcosm of my life: Let go of the worrying and just let myself kick up into the sky.