How NOT to Just Say F**k It: 5 Strategies for Getting Back on Track

Let's be real.

Those of us who have goals around health and wellness aren't perfect. (That's OK, by the way!) From time to time, we'll make decisions that are contrary to the promises we make to ourselves. Some examples of goals we might have include:

• Limiting sugar | caffeine | alcohol | chocolate intake
• Exercising | moving more
• Going to bed or getting up earlier
• Reducing time spent watching TV | playing on Facebook

You get the idea.

So what happens to the day or the week when, for example, you have more than the amount of <whatever> you said you'd have; you fail to exercise, to get to bed / wake earlier, or to limit your technology usage? I'm sure some of you can relate to the feeling of, "oh f**k it, since I did / didn't do X I might as well (either do more X or do Y too)...". It's almost like there's a rebel that comes up inside us, pointing out that we haven't been perfect so "why not just toss the whole stupid idea out the window!" It can be very tempting, especially when that part says, "you can just start over tomorrow / next week".

That voice prevents us from starting over in the present moment. In other words, right NOW.

Here are 5 strategies to help you get back on track, in the moment. Have others? Let me know!

1. Discover the teaching and use it to create a new strategy: Write down why you did / didn't do what you wanted, how it felt at the time and/or how it feels now. Coming from the perspective that you did exactly what you needed to do at the time, explore what you could learn from the experience. What might you do differently if that situation arises again? For example: "I ate the brownie because really I was dehydrated and needed more water. The next time I have a brownie craving, I'll have a glass of water first."
   
   
2. Stop making specific promises altogether: Instead, bring more mindfulness to your daily activities, pay closer attention to how you feel, and honor the higher goal of "progress"--getting a little healthier each day. Let go of "measuring" every detail and allow yourself to be more intuitive about what is good for you and what isn't. In other words, focus on the big picture rather than the details.
   
   
3. Put it in perspective: Someone passed along to me a great quote from Jillian Michaels, which was along the lines of "so you messed up and didn't stick to the plan -- so what? You didn't ruin anything. If you have one flat tire do you then slash the other three?" One or two or even five of anything doesn't mean the rest of your day or week is done for.
   
   
4. Move to a different environment: Just eat an entire bag of chips after sitting at your desk for hours? Go for a walk outside. Sometimes change happens from the inside out. Other times, it can happen from the outside in. Maybe next time you think about having chips, you'll realize you just need a break, and take the walk instead!
   
   
5. Create appointments with yourself (and set reminders): Schedule the time you'll spend online, the time you'll exercise, or even the time you'd like to go to bed. When your timer goes off, stop, and do what your reminder tells you! Have trouble stopping and taking a lunch break? Put it on your calendar with a note to yourself. Here's one of mine: "Lunch: GET UP & TAKE A BREAK!" Maybe at 9 pm, you set a reminder on your phone that says, "Charge me, shut me off and go read your book in bed!" If it's scheduled, honor your commitment as you would attending a doctor's appointment, or going to a beloved friend's wedding.

30 Days to a Happier & Healthier Me

A mocha latte

As some of you know, starting June 15th I'm facilitating a Facebook group called "30 Days to a Happier & Healthier You Practice". In it, each person decides one habit they'd like to practice encouraging, or one habit they'd like to practice softening. I'm specifically calling this a practice (rather than, for example, a "challenge") because although it may be challenging, it's not intended to be something we beat ourselves up over when we're not perfect at it. The idea is that we support each other, and just keep trying.

Of course as the facilitator of such a group, I have many ideas about what I could do for myself and post about. I have to set an example, right? So my first thought was that I could do anything EXCEPT giving up coffee (again). That would just be too challenging.

A little history of me and coffee: back in the day I was never really into it. I used to have one cup (read, 8 oz) in the morning with a powdered milk substitute. I preferred Dunkin over Starbucks. (Yes, really.) And then something happened--especially after I got a job in the city of Boston--I was surrounded with coffee shops. I got hooked on a morning Starbucks, joining in the morning ritual,  feeling all "Sex and the City". Soon I decided visiting the Boston Common Coffee Co was a better, more local alternative. I started drinking americanos and almond milk lattes. When I moved to Austin, the first thing I did was check out all of the coffee shops I could find. My favorite is Monkey Nest Coffee--where you'll often find me working.

When I'm doing a cleanse, I get off coffee pretty easily. I drink a lot of water, and don't have too many symptoms (e.g. headaches). But I miss it terribly. I miss the imagined comradery with other coffee drinkers. I miss greeting the people who make my drink, take my money, and stamp my frequent visitor card. I miss the ritual. Drinking coffee gives me pleasure; pleasure beyond what comes from the energy boost of the caffeine. (Anyone who's ever shared quarters with me knows I'm generally wide awake and perky somewhere between 5-6 am, even without it.)

So I could do anything but give up coffee as part of this practice. Right? Hmm....

Well truth be told, the group of people who have agreed to participate in this 30 day practice have inspired me. They've inspired me to set an example by being REALISTIC, to set myself up for something challenging enough to require practice but to still be ACHIEVABLE. So for the next 30 days, my practice will be to have one SMALL coffee drink no more than 3 times a week.

As part of this practice I will explore:

• what it is about drinking coffee that gives me so much pleasure? 
• how does it "fill me up" emotionally? 
• what am I afraid will happen if I don't drink it? 
• what tools can I use to get through times when I'm really craving it? 
• what needs does drinking coffee fulfill for me? 
• how can I enjoy working in a coffee shop environment without over-drinking coffee? 
• what is it I really desire?

It's my belief that we have difficulty changing habits because we focus on the "giving up" part by trying to use willpower. However, the habit represents something that's important to us, so we need to explore the deeper meaning behind the habit first. What are its benefits (even if we do label it as "unhealthy" or "bad")? How does the habit make us feel better, how does it serve us?

Only when we answer these questions will habits soften and perhaps fall away.

I'm ready to explore. I'm ready to practice. And I promise you, I will not be perfect. :-)

I hope you'll join me. See https://www.facebook.com/groups/1430137057252728/.

Does the number on your bathroom scale wreak havoc on your mood?

Mine used to.

Isabelle Tierney's recent post, titled "God in Facebook Form" got me thinking about another way many of us end up seeking validation: seeing a particular number on the bathroom scale.

During a particularly difficult time in my life (when I was under a lot of stress and feeling pretty trapped), I developed a pretty serious obsession with my weight. My rationale was that in 8th grade I was 5 feet tall and 100 lbs. Going on birth control at 16 gained me 3 pounds, but I was OK with that. Fast forward 20+ years later, and you'd find me incredibly focused on getting back down to that specific number of 103 (since obviously I wasn't getting any taller). I think I was around 110 lbs when all that started. When I hit rock bottom, I'd gotten myself up to 120 lbs--all by trying ridiculously hard to get the long and lean body I envied, weighing myself every day (sometimes more than once). That extra weight wasn't muscle either: it was from the binging and overeating caused by how the number on the scale contributed to my already fragile mood.

When I started studying to become an Eating Psychology Coach, one of the first things that Marc David, the founder and primary teacher in the training said, was that we should get rid of the scale. In addition to the fact that there are normal fluctuations in body weight, he alluded to the psychological impact that seeing a particular number can have on us. In my case, if I weighed less than I had previously, or I was closer to my goal weight, stepping on the scale would have a positive effect on my mood. I'd find myself smiling, and being happy and confident in my body until my next weigh in. If I weighed more or hadn't made any progress, I'd feel terrible. I'd go through my day thinking I was "fat and disgusting" (and I can't count how many times I said that phrase aloud, further putting it "out there" into the Universe and making it seem more real)!

At first I found myself very reluctant to give up this mood-altering ritual. But eventually, the scale went into the closet. I pulled it out once a week instead of stepping on it every day, but I found that even the decreased frequency seemed to have the same effect on my mood. Weight down, mood up. Weight up, mood down. So back in the closet it went, and as I started to really internalize that I could love my body as it is (yet still exercise and eat well to be strong, flexible, and healthy),

I'm happy to report that it's been over a month since the difference between a number in my brain and the one on a little square device has had any power over my mood, my confidence, or my life. Do I still think about weighing myself sometimes? Of course. Do I do it? Nope. Instead I remind myself that I can give my gifts to the world because of what is inside of me; and if that doesn't work, I do something I know will make me feel good, like yoga. (And oftentimes, those self-care activities are exactly what I need to be as healthy as I can be! Funny how that works.)

Different Ways to Welcome the New Year

Like many people, I look forward to the "clean start" that a new year brings. Yet this New Year, I'm doing things differently. This New Year, I will NOT:

• Write down a bunch of resolutions or goals that make me feel good temporarily, but then turn into obligations that I can't reasonably meet and resulting in me feeling like a failure.
  
  Instead I will have a loose "intention" to surrender the direction of my life to the Universe, trusting that each step I take is the one that is best for me in the moment that it happens, and is leading me to my true purpose.

• Look back on the prior year, noting all the things that had gone wrong. I will not think "good riddance", because all the trials and tribulations have taught me important lessons, and I'm a better, stronger person for having experienced them.
  
  Rather, I will say goodbye to the prior year with respect. I will keep the lessons I learned in my mind and close in my heart as I move forward, so I don't make the same mistakes and create the same suffering for myself and others.

What will YOU do differently this new year?

Opposite Ends of the Yoga Spectrum: Bikram vs. Kripalu

The other week I got a wild hair and decided to try out Bikram Yoga at Yoga Crossing. After having a brief conversation about my yoga experience with the instructor at the front desk, I entered the heated, silent studio about 10 minutes early. The room was notably hotter than what I'm used to at Inner Strength Yoga, but as always, very welcoming to me as the constantly freezing chick. The floor was made out of a material I'd never seen before, and it already felt slick as I walked to an empty place to set up my mat. Within that small time frame, I was able to enter into a yoga nidra-like state, which felt wonderful.

When the instructor entered, she flipped all the bright lights on, which was kind of jarring for me. I noticed there were mirrors in two directions, which was kind of nice. (At home, I have a mirror and use it to check my alignment.) We started with Seagull Breath, which is where you interlace your fingers with the palms together, placing them under the chin. On the inhale, you lift the elbows up and as you exhale with the sound "Ha", you slowly lower the elbows while tilting the head back, pressing the chin up with the hands. (This is how Kripalu teaches Seagull Breath anyway, as a Pratapana, or warm up.) What struck me about how the instructor at Yoga Crossing guided it was that she strongly encouraged us to really "push" our heads back, and to bend our backs so we could look at the back wall. This warmup is challenging for me because my shoulders are tight, and what she lead seemed kind of intense right off the bat. Although my perfectionistic part wanted to keep pushing, I was feeling pain in my back and in the compassionate style of my Kripalu training, gave myself permission to make it gentler that I interpreted the instructions to be.

We then proceeded through each of the 26 Bikram postures. The sequence started with several standing and balancing postures, which the instructor didn't ever model. (I model most of the time in classes I teach because many of my students don't have enough experience with the postures to know what they should look like, plus my cuing can still sometimes use some work!) One interesting posture for me was what she called Triangle, which had a very bent knee and felt more like a Side Angle Lunge. But what really struck me throughout the class was how quickly the instructor was speaking. At times, I couldn't even understand her, she was talking so fast! I got exhausted just having a moment's thought about teaching this way. She also stated--and several times, in a drill sargent-like tone--that we should "feel pain" in various areas of the body, that we should "lock our knees", that we should "push". This felt like the complete opposite end of the spectrum to me from what I teach as a Kripalu instructor--which is to honor your body's limitations and never feel pain. She also had us keep our eyes open at all times, which prevented me from cultivating some of the blissful introversion I often reach while practicing yoga. Because of the speed of the class, there was little time or space to sink into the postures. At one point I did feel my heart beating fast--there's no doubt in my mind to the cardio effect of this practice, which is often a debate about yoga.

After an intense first half, we received a two minute break in corpse pose, with our head facing the instructor. We were again told to keep our eyes open. This was so foreign to me, but I tried to experience it as a new, more active way of doing the posture. We were then told to roll up to sitting, to grab our big toes with our peace fingers, and (what I think was) to bounce, but honestly it took me several round of this (with some looking around the room) to decipher what to do, since I couldn't make out her rapid words. We then rotated back around to face our instructor on our bellies, and did a back bend two times. Then back to shavasana for a mere 30 seconds! I soon learned this was part of the sequence for part of the second half: a posture two times facing the instructor with a 30 second corpse pose in between. Transition-wise this seemed inefficient to me. However, the limited time in shavasana did encourage me to relax everything as quickly and efficiently as I possibly could. It kind of reminded me of an extremely abbreviated progressive muscle relaxation exercise. I enjoyed the instructor's imagery in full locust pose, which was to create one leg by pressing our two legs tightly together. And before I knew it, I was put in shavasana and allowed to close my eyes. As soon as that cue was given, the instructor told us we could stay as long as we like, said "namaste", and left the room. This also surprised me, that there was no guided relaxation.

I could immediately hear other students putting away their mats and leaving. Given how intense the practice was, however, I was determined to stay and relax my body. Even though I didn't feel as though I stayed long, I was one of the last ones to leave.

On my way out, the instructor told me I'd "done well" for my first time. She said I clearly knew my body very well and adjusted appropriately whenever I was told. I mentioned to her that I usually use a strap for some of the postures where you need to grab the foot, not always because I can't reach, but sometimes because all the sweat makes it difficult to hold onto the foot with the hand. She told me that it's part of building up my grip--I imagined it meant my fingers, hands, and wrists could use some strengthening, which is likely true. (There were no props of any kind available that I could see.)

Since a single drop in was $19 and a week's worth of classes for newbies was $20, I had opted for the extra dollar and went back the next day, figuring I would see if I had any different thoughts after having gone through it once already.

The second time through I had a different instructor, who I liked better than the first one. She still spoke quickly but she was clearer in her instructions and actually seemed to take a breath between words. Also, knowing the sequence and what to expect made it a little easier. I did get "called out" (by name) for changing my grip on my foot when I couldn't keep my fingers from slipping, which I wasn't thrilled about. There was still a lot of talk about how this "hurts", to "hold it", "feel the pain", "this will be uncomfortable", and to "push it", without a lot of mention of using the breath. It still felt like a lot of forcing rather than allowing the openings to occur naturally, though I will say that sometimes I was surprised at what I could do when mindfully moving into postures that did bring me some pain, such as steeple position with my hands (especially in Balancing Stick position). In some postures, such as the Wind Removing and Rabbit poses, I thought I started to feel the benefits of the opposition in the stretch that I created with my own body, but it was over so quickly I couldn't be sure.

I caught myself several times closing my eyes (especially in forward folds), and had some difficulty keeping the fingers tight together instead of spreading them wide apart for a better base. One thing that worried me a bit in the cuing was about Cobra and the lower back. I don't remember exactly what was said, but if there were other the perfectionists / people-pleasers in the room who were still in their ego during the class, I would be afraid of them injuring themselves. As I looked around, I noticed several students dropped down into Child's pose though, so maybe they were self-aware enough to stop when it got to be too much. Personally I stopped once as well, since I felt my heart pounding again with a slight bit of nausea (I hadn't eaten anything for breakfast, so I'm not sure whether that's why or not--though I couldn't imagine having eaten prior to class!) Again I noticed the lack of space between poses to transition, integrate, or even grab a sip of water. It occurred to me that the rollups from corpse pose could really help strengthen my core, and that the quick moving aspect of Bikram did keep my mind focused. I really didn't have any space to think about anything else!

Would I go back? Not sure. I've tried doing more traditional Ashtanga primary series sequence from time to time, because there is something about a regimented sequence and pace that does attract my busy mind and my competitive nature. But lately I've started to appreciate the gentler forms of yoga like Kripalu, Restorative, and Yin; although not what I gravitate to naturally, they really are more balancing for me.

Isn't it great that there's a yoga for everyone out there? Write in with your experiences and/or your favorite style of yoga. And if you are curious about yoga but don't practice because you're worried you can't do it, or haven't found a style that's right for you, don't fret. Keep trying. You'll find the yoga you're meant to find!

What Do I Suck At?

A few weeks ago, I found myself at an interesting blog post titled "What do you suck at?" by Danielle LaPorte.

For the most part, I feel like we're all too critical of ourselves and one another, yet the title intrigued me. Once I read the post, I was pleased at how positive an experience the exercise sounded, and so I decided that I would try it.

Here is my list:

• I have no patience. I want everything done now. I want to get everywhere ASAP. On the flip side, I have a bad habit of responding too quickly. I can be impulsive. When walking or driving, I get frustrated when others doddle. I have the optimally efficient route to everywhere.
• Likely related, I have trouble slowing down & relaxing. I multi-task like mad, and I can't sit still, really listening to the Universe, really paying super close attention, enjoying nature, the moment, etc. without a LOT of struggle. I stand at my desk at work. I can't take naps (unless I'm pretty sick). Every time I decide to free up my personal schedule, it ends up getting full again. Meditation and yoga are ways that I've found to create this for myself a little bit though.
  
• I suck at math. I know it's stereotypical, and it's ridiculous given that I work for a company that's named after the subject. (Thankfully, it's not a highly used skill for my particular position.) I blame it on my 7th grade math teacher, where is when I started doing poorly. It's most annoying when I'm at a restaurant and I need to split the bill with someone, or need to figure out a tip. And yeah, there's a good app for that. :-)
• I'm a recipe junkie. I collect and organize more recipes (hard and soft copy) than I will probably ever be able to make in my life.
• I find it difficult to trust / have faith. My life has been filled with pretty harsh conditions, with lots of close people abandoning me in one form or another. It's more likely these days that it's a self-fulfilling prophesy, but I don't think it started that way.
• I suck at making decisions. This is a newer one for me, again likely related to the previous. My husband makes me flip a coin and then asks me how I feel about what the result was, just to be sure I'm really sure. And sometimes I still regret my decision.
• I have trouble with hugs. My yoga teacher training at Kripalu was quite a challenge. A month of people seeing me, touching me, hugging me. Something I'm not at all used to. I'm not sure I'll ever be completely comfortable with it, but sometimes I try, and sometimes it's OK.
• I'm not photogenic. From my early class photo days where my mom would always frown in disappointment, getting a "good" photo of me is a lot trickier than it sounds. Even before LASIK I blinked predictably on every flash, or I'm making a funny face, my hair's sticking up, etc.

Ah. Writing all that down actually felt liberating! So, what's your list? Own it. You'll feel better. :-)

Yogi at a Dance Convention

After not having set foot on a West Coast Swing dance floor for about 3 months, this past weekend I attended Boston Dance Challenge. I started doing this dance 10 years ago because I had a lot of spare time after getting my Master's degree, and I loved how it made me feel physically and emotionally. Many studies have shown that dancing is good for your health, but I can also attribute dancing to making me more social and outgoing; like yoga, I believe it has played a large part in changing the deepest "me".

Part of the reason I haven't been dancing lately has been because I had felt like it was always a choice to go dance or pursue my yogic practices. There seemed to be too many things at odds with one another in each of these passions. For Ayurveda and yoga, I get up early, I eat light and clean, I practice mindfulness and compassion. For dancing, I stay up until Ayurveda would have me wake, food and alcoholic drinks are a prevalent and constant temptation, not to mention all the competition, ego, judgement, and cliques that are the norm. 

But since yoga is really about a way of living in the world (99% of which happens off the mat), I decided to use this weekend as a test: could I be a yogi while participating in the hobby I used to enjoy so much? Here's some highlights of how it went.

Friday Evening

• 8:30 pm: I arrive at the hotel, pleased as punch that I have two, like-minded and considerate roommates with whom to share the weekend. Space in the room is respectfully shared from the moment I arrive. I feel content, and set an intention to have fun this weekend.
• 9:30 pm: While watching the first competition, I catch myself judging other dancers, trying to select who's in first, second, or third place, and making comments to nearby friends / observers about outfits and dancing (good and not so good). I vow to just sit and enjoy watching others express themselves while doing something that gives them pleasure. 
• 10 pm: I remember how to spot while social dancing (there's no spinning in yoga!). My former dance partner (a vegan neuro-muscular massage therapist who's tickled at my yogic transformation) asks me, "are you the same person?" I smile confidently as I reply, "No, I'm not." Friends encourage me to compete tomorrow, and I know I need to make a decision by the morning.
• 11 pm: Having gotten up at 5am, I feel jet-lagged. I decide I've had a long day, and turn in. (Something unheard of at a dance event.)

Saturday

• 6:15 am: After initially waking at 4 am, I'm fine with this. I get up and do some yoga, meditate, and decide to compete.
• 9 am: I start to second guess my decision to compete, thinking it won't be worth the hit to my self esteem. I observe this indecisiveness as a pattern as of late, realize it's not good for me, and choose to just own the decision I made instead of doubting it. I feel better.
• 12 pm: I am proud of myself for maintaining phase 3 of my Buddha cleanse, eating the lunch I brought with me.
• 1 pm: I have the pleasure of attending a workshop with Arjay Centeno & Jennifer DeLuca, who surprise and inspire me by talking all about how important the breath is while dancing because it calms the body and enables communication with your partner. They have us breathe deeply in, pause slightly at the top, and exhale through our movements. I'm so excited and grateful I almost can't contain myself. 
• 3:15 pm: I spend the next several hours trying to find my full yogic breath while social dancing in between comps. Initially it's distracting, and I can't do that and keep my steps. But after a short time, I start to find it to be seriously grounding. Just what I need. I do feel as though my breath can breathe life into my dance!
• 4:30 pm: My roommate and I rush to get ready for comps. We'd been chatting about this amazing rhythmic yoga flow and completely lost track of time. I have 3 really fun dances, where I breathe and feel comfortable in my body while on the competition floor. (Competing without freaking out has been an issue for me for as long as I've been doing these events.)
• 5 pm: Some friends get called back for Novice semis. I quickly run to the restroom so I can be back in time to watch them dance. When I emerge from the stall, I see a wall of urinals and a close friend says, "Jen, you in the right place?" I panic and run out, amazed at how un-mindful I'd been. I continue this pattern by nearly sitting on a guy's lap when I get back into the ballroom because he'd taken my chair. My friends think all this is hysterical. 
• 6:15 pm: A pro tells me and  a friend / fellow competitor that we looked good on the floor. I start to have hopes of making finals.
• 7 pm: I realize once 5 of us arrive at the Green Land Cafe for dinner that I've screwed up the reservation and we don't have one. My friends are so kind (reminding me also of my earlier restroom mishap) and the restaurant is accommodating. I breathe with the discomfort of not being perfect, and try to accept that that's really OK.  My friends love me anyway.
• 8 pm: I find out I'm only one of three other girls cut completely from the finals list. Part of me says, "of course, you haven't danced in 3 months, what do you expect?" Another part is sad and disappointed. Yet another is thrilled for my roommate, who did make the cut. Behind it all, my true Self is amazed I'm actually remembering my yoga training and starting to allow myself to feel each layer of my emotions.
• 9 pm: I'm really tired. One of my roommates talks me out of breaking my Buddha cleanse with a coffee. I decide to do Viparita Karani instead, but never end up actually doing it.
• 9:30 - 11 pm: I do battle with my "itty bitty shitty committee". My roommate tells me to dance with this advanced guy--I do, and while it was fine, I still feel like it was a "pity dance". When she wants to teach yoga with me at dance events, I wonder why. I want to eat something I shouldn't. I doubt my ability to be a good dancer, a good yoga teacher, to maintain a healthy body. I see a woman who I've had issues with in the past and this riles me up. I reluctantly dance with the beginner who keeps asking me, and wonder why on earth he's so persistent. Then suddenly I remember my intention for the weekend: FUN!
• 11 pm: I'm exhausted again, but vow not to cave in and go to bed. Who knows when I'll be out dancing again, and darn it, I'm going to have fun!
• 11:30 pm: I complain to a friend about the dude who's selling dance shoes, because he's been saying wacky things to me about buying something every time I pass his tables. Soon after I feel like maybe I could be more light-hearted about it.  
• 12:30 am: I have good dances with old friends and new partners. I get a second wind. I focus on having a good time. I marvel at how applicable my Kripalu yoga training is: emotions really are just waves one has to ride; the amount of time between them just varies, as does their magnitude.
• 2:30 am: I kindly explain to the beginner who has been asking me to dance repeatedly that I'm really flattered but there are a lot of people I haven't seen in awhile who I'd like to dance with. He takes it well, and I don't feel like I've been a dance snob.
• 3:30 am: I'm tickled when a pro I like starts running around the social floor with a child-like grin on his face, cutting in on random couples and stealing followers for a few passes. They must be tickled too!
• 4 am: I haven't been on the floor in about 45 minutes, and so I decide to call it a night. A respectable time for a dance event. I feel proud of myself.

Sunday

• 9 am: I wake after having had less than 5 hours of sleep, which I know is less than what my body needs. I see one of my roommates on her yoga mat, and get down on the floor myself. I hear her Ujjayi breathing and start my own short flow, listening to what my body needs me to pay attention to after all that dancing. I smile when I glance up and see we are in similar postures I feel very connected to her.
• 10 am: Rather than getting anxious about having to leave the hotel room by the 11 am checkout time, the three of us work together perfectly to all get showers and pack up in time. I'm feeling even more grateful that these lovely people are in my life.
• 11 am: After taking half my suitcase outside, I'm too enamored by the beautiful sunny day to spend it sitting or dancing in the ballroom. After checking with my roommate that she'd be OK with me missing her dance this afternoon, I say some other goodbyes. One couple tells me I should have taught a morning yoga class, and that they were not willing to go to the gym but would have done yoga; I agree and hope to offer something next year.
• 3:30 pm: I write this blog, and feel like yes, I could do another dance event, AND balance it with keeping true to my yoga practices. In fact, as with anything else in life, YOGA JUST HELPS.
• 7 pm: I find out my roommate placed 5th, and a dear friend came in 1st place. I text them both back with a big smile on my face, sending them my love as part of celebrating their success.

 

An Experience of Trust and Surrender

Freshly back from part one of my yoga teacher training at Kripalu, I'm feeling puzzled about how to convey a fraction of what I experienced during the past two weeks. Although I typically love to write about my experiences, several of them seem to lie just beyond words. However, in the interest of inspiring just one other person in the world who might stumble upon this post, I'll share a story that might illustrate some qualities of my time there: my first practice teach.

The Set Up
The second Monday, each of us was asked to lead a small group (2-3 other students plus a facilitator who would drop in for parts) in a 30 minute class. In this short time, we had to incorporate all 8 elements of a complete Kripalu yoga class. We were required to teach two different breathing techniques and one required posture, but the rest was up to us. Because I was comfortable with my group and what I'd learned so far, I was excited about the opportunity to put together and practice leading a class, but for the most part, an atmosphere of anxiousness permeated the larger group. During lunch and dinner breaks, students asked each other "are you nervous?" and "how are you feeling about your practice teach?" After a little while, I started to question why I wasn't feeling nervous.

My default is typically to be an extreme planner, an over-practicer, and a learner who memorizes perfectly for evaluations and then promptly forgets everything. However, I had decided going into this training that I was going to approach it differently. For example, I:

• was not going to stress about not having time to do all the readings from the manual in between sessions
• would pay active attention (possibly taking less notes) to try and really absorb the material
• was going to plan and practice at a higher level than usual, then wing it, trusting that it would come out just fine
• would let go of my need to be perfect, and be okay with making some mistakes as part of the learning process

This seemed to be working out for me, until one more person asked me how I was feeling about my practice teach, and it snapped me back into my old habits. Up in the Sun Room during a break, I found myself over-analyzing (down to the minute) when I should be on which posture and starting to write down the exact wording of what I would say. As I did this, I noticed how it felt in my body. My heart started to race, my breathing got shallower, and time seemed to speed up. Thankfully I decided to stop, packed up my things, and headed to the Meditation Room with the Japa mala beads we received early in the program.

The Small Enlightenment
The Meditation Room has long been one of my favorite places at Kripalu. It's a  simple room with a small altar, adorned with one photo of Swami Kripalu and random trinkets and flowers left by visitors. It's ridiculously silent and peaceful. Alone in the room, I grabbed a cushion and sat down close to the altar, taking in the photo of Bapuji (as Swami Kripalu was affectionately called). In it, he has one hand outstretched with his palm facing out--given that it's closer to the camera than the rest of him, it appears large and detailed. I closed my eyes and started to repeat a mantra, following along with my mala beads.

After a few rounds, something happened. I first noticed myself sitting a little straighter on my cushion. Next, my ability to take a full breath up into my chest (which is often difficult for me) seemed to just open up. Then my heart started to feel...well, just a little bit stronger. The words "courage" and "bravery" came into my mind, and I started to sense powerful beams of energy radiating from the palm of Bapuji's hand moving directly into my opened heart. I thought, "I need to teach the  Warrior 1 posture, and I am a brave and courageous warrior." I sat there taking this in for several minutes, extremely grateful and in awe of the seeming infusion. When I opened my eyes, I thanked Swami Kripalu profusely, and left feeling even more centered and grounded than I had before anyone had asked about my feelings around the practice teach.

The Follow Through
My first practice teach went well. I wove the theme of bravery and courage, which I felt Bapuji had re-revealed to me during my meditation, throughout the class. When I stumbled to remember which warm up I was going to teach next, I calmly glanced down at my notes at the title to remind myself, and continued on. When what I'd planned took longer than I expected, I decided to bag the transition to the Warrior 2 posture, and instead gave my group the gift of a longer relaxation. When I realized I probably could have fit the posture in anyway (especially when another member of our group was told she brought people into relaxation too quickly, much as I had), I didn't feel shame. Rather, I felt proud of how I had trusted my instincts, and believed that over time, I would hone them to be more accurate. Overall, I felt a deep peace about what I had done. I had let go of my need to control every last detail--I had surrendered, and not only had nothing catastrophic happened, but I had flourished.

When to trust yourself: a lesson in finding balance

Lately I feel like I'm being tested at the beginning of new work weeks. This Monday I woke to an email from my dear friend Vianne, prompted by the Frittata incident of last Monday. As part of sharing some information about perfectionism with me, Vianne ended up temporarily knocking me off balance with this message:

Since I've watched you take on dance, Tracey [Anderson workouts], ChaLEAN, writing, cleansing, yoga and now the [vegetarian] diet with such unaltered diligence, I wonder if finding the right passion is really your only quest. Maybe a scientific understanding of what makes your mind obsess about the need for control and perfectionism will help in some way. I tell you this because I want [you] to find peace in 2012 and just BE, whatever that is at any particular moment of any particular day. Even if that means you don't wake up to do your yoga, that you eat a pint of ice cream twice in one day, or that you decide to fart in public. 

I think what really triggered me here was the phrase "unaltered diligence". See, when friends, colleagues, or acquaintances ask about my vegetarian experiment, hear about my morning routine (which I'll blog about in the future), or express interest in my latest exercise craze, they either seem impressed with my discipline and willpower, or imply I'm being overly restrictive. Based on my initially strong reaction to Vianne's email and my known tendencies toward perfectionism and control, I felt the need to step back and ask how others' perceptions could potentially teach me something about myself.

Reasons to Trust Myself
A few summers ago, I spent some time identifying my personal values--the qualities of life that made me feel truly fulfilled when at work or at home. After sitting quietly with the question Vianne prompted and listening to how my body responded, I realized three of my five personal values were very relevant:

• Self improvement
• Challenge
• Quality "me time"

Whether by nature or nurture, I'm one of those people who's always looking to change and grow in a positive direction. I think I have much to learn about myself and about living in the world, so I try new things to see whether they fit and will help me better navigate life. I enjoy challenging my assumptions and pushing my limits, both physically and mentally. An introvert by nature, I also love spending time alone, reflecting on where I've been and thinking about where I'd like to go. So while my behavior may sometimes appear as extreme diligence, I do these activities and experiments because I actually feel energized by them. Deep down, I know I don't do them to be perfect for someone else; even when they don't turn out exactly as I expected, they just make me feel really good!

Because of inconsistencies across people, and because everyone has a lens through which they interpret reality, I've also learned to not take others' perceptions of me at face value. At the same time I received Vianne's email, for example, I received one from another friend that conveyed a seemingly opposite message--saying how happy and content I was given my increased interest in my physical, emotional, mental and spiritual health. Over the course of the week, I also recalled an experience I had last summer when I got my tattoo. Expressing some nervousness to my close friend Paige days before the procedure, she very strongly encouraged me to rethink my plan. I remember being surprised at her reaction, and much like Vianne's email, it prompted some serious questioning of my motivations to see if I was missing something important. But Paige's reaction when she accompanied me to the tattoo parlor (where she was so uncomfortable she couldn't stay) made me realize that her response was probably more about her own stuff than about me.

Reasons to Listen to Other People
On the flip side, I've received similar messages over the years from several people: when my boss told me to do 20% less (can you imagine?); when my dance instructor told me to relax my arm (when I thought I was already relaxed!); and when my nutritionist advised me to stop tracking my calories, exercise, and weight. I do tend to get overly excited about trying new things, and can get into rhythms that reduce my ability to be flexible and spontaneous. While I'm doing it less and less lately, my actual lack of perfection at "unaltered diligence" also sometimes makes me beat myself up a bit. And although I don't have any desire to eat pints of ice cream or fart in public, I could easily down half a bar of 70% dark chocolate from time to time! 

Reasons to Do Both
After wrestling with this over the past week, I've decided that like most other things in life, learning when to trust yourself vs. take seriously what others think or say about how you're living your life is all about finding balance.

Here's an example: when I first started working on my book, I set aside two hours each Saturday and Sunday with the intent of working through my outline. My dedication to this effort left me feeling anxious (until I got to it), resentful (because I'd often rather be doing something else), and frustrated (when I couldn't "be creative" during my allotted time). Now, I work on my book during the same 15 minutes every weekday morning. I can understand how this might appear overly rigid to most people, but doing it this way makes me feel good because it fits into my most creative time, allows me to make progress, makes me eager to do more the next day, and keeps my weekends free. Creating this structure has been a positive experience, and ironically has given me more flexibility.

I think it's good to pause, question and be curious about why you're really doing something to make sure you're doing it for the right reasons. If you ask yourself the difficult questions and still feel at peace in your mind, heart, and body, you can trust your inner compass to keep you balanced regardless of how others might perceive your actions. Conversely, other people's comments can bring to light ways you may be harming yourself or holding yourself back that you may not initially be able to see. They can be a powerful signal that you should consider making some adjustments. So pay attention, and whenever you're feeling triggered by someone else's impressions or feedback, check in with yourself and really do the soul searching work because regardless of the outcome, the thought process will always be beneficial.

What a vegetarian frittata taught me about myself

My first week being vegetarian went really well, but started out with a bang on Monday, when I tried to make myself an Autumn / Winter Frittata to have for my breakfasts.

How the Plan Went Awry
I had the day off from work, so I planned to go to a yoga class taught by one of my favorite instructors at 9:30 am. I was excited to make and have a slice of the frittata before I left and since I get up at 5, I figured I had plenty of time. In the pre-sunrise peace and quiet of the kitchen, I prepared the chard and the onions; reading step 3, I went to find the potatoes to chop, only to find there were none.

The Berating Began Ever So Slowly
Initially in disbelief, I thought back to the grocery store. My husband and I had gone to Whole Foods, and divvied up getting the items on our list as we often do. I remembered asking him to get the potatoes, but not actually verifying that they were in the shopping cart. I also remembered that since the store was a bit crazy, I read up and down the list (what seemed like 100 times) to make sure we had everything. And yet somehow there I was, without potatoes.

"OK," I said to myself. "You have two choices. You can get angry at him for not getting the potatoes (or yourself for not really checking that he did), or you can put on a coat and run to the store quick." Temporarily proud of myself, I decided on the latter. And even though my tendencies toward overthinking kept me replaying the store scenes in my mind while driving, I also reminded myself to breathe, and it helped. OK, kudos to me, it's all under control.

But Then it Picked Up Steam
Back at the house, I resumed cooking, now 20 minutes behind the time I'd originally planned. I worried about finishing the frittata and then about having enough time for my stomach to settle a slice before putting myself into a downward dog. Did the bottom of the eggs really firm before I put it into the oven? Was the frittata firm in the center when I pulled it out? I think I thought so. As I flipped the frittata out of the pan and onto a plate, I vowed to bite my tongue and not tell my husband (who was now awake and in the kitchen) about the potato oversight.

That was, until I started cutting the frittata. As the plate filled with liquid, all my negativity poured out as well. "Why didn't you get the potatoes?!" "It's not supposed to be like that." "Don't try and hug me; can't you see I'm pissed!?" "See, I totally can't cook, why do I try?!!" Ah, and then for good measure, the magnifications about getting angry and blowing up over a frittata: "It's the second flipping day of the New Year and I screwed up already. So much for my yoga practice off the mat!"  Crying to the point of making myself nauseous, I wondered aloud WTF was wrong with me, and considered abandoning my yoga class to curl up on the sofa in my room and just disappearing for the day. A few minutes later, after I allowed myself to release the most extreme part of my rant, I felt strangely better.

It's Never About the Frittata
Realizing I really needed my yoga class, I dragged myself there. But I didn't need to get down on my mat to figure things out; the drive was all it took. Here's what I came up with:

• If I'm not perfect (cooking frittatas, being mindful of my thoughts and words all the time, etc.), people won't like or love me.
• I'd rather blame someone else for being imperfect than not be perfect myself.
• I'd rather voluntarily create distance between myself and other people than risk feeling unliked or unloved.
• I can't fathom being liked or loved if I'm not perfect.

Of course, all this goes back to my childhood, where I'd come home with straight A's on my report card and be asked why they weren't A+'s. Where I would move a coffee table book a half centimeter and be yelled at for it. Where a scratch on a newly painted wall would negatively impact my life for weeks. Where being a minute late (because the time on my watch was slightly different from the kitchen clock) would deny me the privilege of going out to play again that day. Growing up, I tried so hard to be perfect so my parents would love me, and despite all my efforts, I never felt like I succeeded. And there I had been, in my kitchen, reinforcing this lack of love and compassion all by myself.

Quotes to Live By
Once I made these connections, I recalled two quotes I'd copied down in my journal recently:

• "Aspire to be present, not perfect." (Kripalu Yoga, Faulds, p73)
• "Habit is habit, and not to be flung out of the window by any man, but coaxed downstairs a step at a time." (Mark Train, Pudd'nhead Wilson, quoted in Real Simple January 2012, p2)

Yes, I need to let go of trying to be perfect, putting more of my energy into being present; to trust that the people in my life will love and like me for who I am, not how well or poorly I do something; and to be compassionate and patient with myself, because I can choose how to parent myself now. I will most likely have moments where I forget and start aspiring to be perfect again. But that's OK. I can still like and love myself for trying to be a better person each and every day.

Thought Experiments

• What was your latest frittata? What lessons did it teach you about yourself? 
• How can you be more patient with yourself as you try and make changes in this New Year? 
• Do you celebrate the small choices you've made to slowly coax your habit down the stairs?

Any tricks or tips you want to share are also welcome!