Dogs have a way of reminding us to embrace the moment. Thank you, Tiger, for the lesson:)
Heal. Healing. Healed?
I’m not sure “healed” should be a word.
Heal? Yes. Healing? Absolutely. But, healed? Past tense. As in done. Finished. Over. Completed. Shut the door and turn the key.
I’m not so sure.
Some days I think I’m there, the wound healed over with no hint of a scar. But that’s just wishful thinking. A fallacy reveled when the wound opens from the slightest unintentionally targeted remark or interaction, triggering the pain and uncertainty associated with the initial cut. At least now I have practice. Practice feeling the pain and the fear. Recognizing its roots. Knowing what part of it is real and what is simply echoes of the past, ghosts that can cause no real harm. I have practice accepting the pain and practice letting it go. I speak its language.
It is said that practice makes perfect. Will perfect be when I am healed? Or will I achieve perfection in the cycle of feeling, accepting, and releasing? Most likely, perfection will remain elusive and I will have to settle for better:)
Maybe I will be healed when I accept that I will always be healing.
Shift Happens
I do an 1 1/2 hour power 2 hot yoga class on Sunday mornings. I have attended this class regularly since January, but it still takes me right to the edge of what I can endure. Yesterday’s class was an interesting lesson for me. I went into the class physically prepared: hydrated, rested, not too sore from the sprints the day before, ad breakfast was on board, but not a recent memory. I should have had an easy go of it.
The mind said otherwise.
As I moved through the familiar vinyasas at the start of class, I could feel my breath hitch and stutter, my mind interpreting that as an indicator of panic. Here I was, on a familiar mat in a familiar room, and my body-mind was becoming convinced that I was in some sort of imminent danger. I began to feel light-headed as the breath deteriorated further; I was losing balance in simple poses. All signals were screaming, “Get out!”
I chose to acknowledge them and ignore them. Instead of leaving the sweltering confines of the practice room, I gently folded my body into child’s pose to rest. I laid there for several minutes while the class moved and grunted around me, continuing to press their bodies into position. I simply breathed. I had to work to tell my mind that it was okay to rest, acceptable to take a break and miss part of the class. I stayed there until my breath was smooth again and my heart beat was less evident against my ribcage. I stayed there until my mind shifted from fear to acceptance. From fight to relaxation. From flight to stillness.
When I pushed back up into down dog to continue the flow, I felt revitalized and refreshed, even as the sweat poured down my frame. I went on to have a wonderful practice, even moving further into difficult (for me anyway!) poses than I had in the past.
Shift happened.
Know that your current situation and perspective is temporary. If you are unhappy with your current state, stay with it, but do not nurture it. Acknowledge it, but do not be consumed by it. Accept it, but do not run to it with open arms. Guide your mind to soften and remind your body to breathe. Shift will happen.
Taming the Monkey Mind: My Monkey’s Flinging Poo
Yesterday was a frustrating day at work. We had to cancel a fun activity for the kids at the last minute due to weather. Now, I am sure this will come as a complete and utter shock to you, but middle school students do not react well to change. Especially change that requires they attend classes they thought they were going to miss. They were upset and they were not afraid to share it. All day long there was a negative undertone as the kids dealt with their frustrations by grumbling about how unfair it was and the teachers dealt with their frustrations by complaining about the kids. It was a fruitless and circuitous endeavor that felt impossible to halt. One thousand eighth graders are a formidable force. Especially in May.
My monkey mind did not respond well to the negative energy. Instead of relying upon his prior lessons in mindfulness and breath, he began to run around his cage, shaking the bars, and flinging poo at all who dared approach. It wasn’t pretty. I tried to meditate to soothe the agitated monkey mind before I took him out for a planned meeting with friends. He just pointed and laughed at me. Apparently this would require a tool of a different sort.
I attended the gathering and had a wonderful time. The monkey was distracted by all of the conversation and he behaved relatively well. No poo was flung, much to the appreciation of all in attendance.
Although my monkey mind had been somewhat calmed, his agitation was still simmering just beneath the surface. As mediation had proven itself unable to handle the task yesterday, I decided to try to pacify my monkey with sprints. As I ran those 100 yards full-out, my monkey mind was silenced, holding on for dear life and unable to screech his disapproval. They were mini-meditations in intervals. All I could think about was that moment. That breath. That step. The frustrations and negativity floated away like the dust kicked up from under my feet. It was a great big cleansing breath for the soul. And a reminder for my monkey mind that it’s not nice to throw poo.
Why We Should Be Like Water & Live With Ease
It is so easy to toughen under stress, to tense and tighten to carry the load. Perhaps it is time to learn from the water around us. Water is a most powerful force, able to carve mountains into great valleys, move enormous loads, and traverse even the most inhospitable terrain. Water is able to this without rigidity, without tension. It flows around obstacles, slowly wearing them away rather than getting stuck behind the barrier. Let your inner ice thaw, relax and flow, and you may find the journey to be an easier one.
Why We Should Be Like Water & Live With Ease.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 