THE WHALE

I spent the whole day on Saturday attending a chair yoga teacher certification class. I was supposed to go again on Sunday but woke up with a sore throat and a slight fever. After showering and eating breakfast, I didn’t feel much better. So I opted to stay home and not spread my germs, but I was very happy to see that pictures and videos from the day had been posted for me to scroll through. It was also really nice to watch a video of our teacher demonstrating how to get off the floor and it is exactly how I teach my students to safely get off the floor. The course was helpful and validating. Michael said that the experience seemed to have energized me, which is funny because I ended up taking a four hour nap on Sunday.

Early on Saturday, our teacher passed out a deck of oracle cards. I thought that oracle cards was just a Roze thing, but turns out it is becoming a popular yoga studio thing to do. It’s cleaner than goat yoga. I treated this experience with the same eye-roll as I’d use for Roze. The card that I pulled from this deck is a card I have pulled before from one of Roze’s decks. It was the Whale: True Voice card and I half read the description knowing full well that somewhere in there it was going to say something about speaking with compassion to yourself and others. I have no problems speaking with compassion to others. I might even be real good at that. I don’t want to talk about the ‘yourself’ part of that sentence. There was one part of this description that I hadn’t noticed before and it reads “Getting in touch with the mystery and unseen realms of life.” To which I responded “Shut the fuck up.” I turned my ghostbuster trap into an Idea trap.

The description on this card also said this:

Singing your true song from a place of compassion.

Somewhere along the way I have forgotten my true song and I have been working really hard these last three months to remember that song. It has slowly been coming back to me, but in a really annoying way. It’s like I can plunk out a few notes over and over again in my head, kind of like hearing Chris try to sing out the tune to Brazil, which if you knew Chris, you knew he was tone deaf. It’s like I hear something that is kind of familiar, but not yet clear and I know some of that is from trying to hard. Every one I know has struggled with January and it has not turned out to be the fresh start to the New Year that we all wanted. I know I jumped into January first with the idea that I was going to figure everything out on week one.

Then January tried to kill me.

More than a few notes of that song revealed itself this weekend. The revelation came by immersing myself in a community of yoga teachers of various of levels of teaching experience. Teachers can and do learn from other teachers. I loved learning from the others in our group and I loved sharing my own knowledge with the group. At one point on Saturday, we were paired off to practice teaching sun salutations. My partner was a woman who is still working on her teacher training and still finding her teacher voice. She was nervous when it became her turn to teach me. She’s normally a Spin teacher and I said if you can teach a class while riding a bike, you can teach anything. But really, the best advice I gave her was that the more she loved this practice, the easier it will be for her to share her knowledge of the practice. And then I started speaking whale like Dory in Finding Nemo. (Not really)

This post is about to get real long because finding your voice and loving your practice ties into something I started writing last week.

Last year, I purchased a new camera backpack to hold my Nikon and the (potential) extra lenses and gear. I did a whole lot of research on camera packs and what I wanted in a backpack. That also meant narrowing down what it was that I didn’t like about the camera bag I already owned. The deciding factors included comfort and ease of packability while not being bulky. I didn’t want to settle on any of these things for cost and I spent monies to get what I truly wanted. It was worth it. I love everything about this backpack. It has specific and easy to get to pockets for just about everything I need while traveling. It fits my body and does not feel like I am wearing a pack meant for a month long excursion on the Appalachian Trail. It hangs nicely on my closet door and I generally just leave my camera in it.

The bag and camera have not moved in over two months.

I have fallen completely out of practice with my Nikon. In fact I can pinpoint the exact time when I felt joy in taking photos and that was when I was in Woods Hole back in October. Lately, when I’m sitting in bed in the mornings with Josephine and drinking my tea, I will stare at that bag and start to stew. I sit there and think about projects I could/should start to practice using this camera. Last year, I was gifted a flash along with a set of diffusers and I have yet to take time out to learn when and how to use it. That’s just stupid because now in the dark cold months when the last thing I want to do is to go outside is the best time to stay inside and learn about flash photography. When you look for the light, but can’t seem to find it, then you make your own light.

This weekend I was reminded that when you truly love the things you do, then of course you find time to do those things. But there is also joy, great amounts of it really, in sharing those things with others. Yoga. Photography. Words. These are my things and I’m clearing space for more doing of these things that I love.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

My offering for grief camp was to teach a couple of yoga classes related to grief and loss. My plan was to talk about poses that can be soothing during times of immense grief and sequencing of movement to help distract the brain from its constant chatter. While teaching the first class, I shared my story of how grief has defined the yoga practice I have today. That story begins with J and a complete derailment of my yoga practice. There was a large chunk of time when I couldn’t even look at my yoga mat, let alone stand on it and be present in a practice. I have told this story a number of times and I never get through it without choking down tears, not even after eighteen years.

A few months ago, I was feeling extra squishy and unhealthy. I could feel my fat cells marching like ants from my limbs and settling into my gut and I was frustrated. I was frustrated because I was doing the work, walking the steps, mindfully eating. I was doing all of these things even though I really just wanted to be napping. I just kept forcing myself to move. I fell for the advertisements for perimenopause supplements and a twenty eight day wall pilates app. I started stressing about food and water intake. Am I eating enough protein? What happens if I’m a calorie over whatever the app recommends? How can I find time to do all of this and get on my yoga mat? When can I just rest? Why do I weigh 176.8 lbs with all my clothes on and 173.0 lbs with no clothes on? Do my clothes really weigh 3.8 lbs? Why am I freaking out over being the same weight I have always been give or take a pound? How do people have time to do ALL the exercising we are being fed to believe we have to do?!? All of this has taken time away from yoga.

It was Chris who reminded me that J would feel terrible knowing that he was the reason I stopped doing something I loved. There are still times when I am on my yoga mat when memories of that day when J died will bubble up from its storage locker in my brain. Those are nudges to be more careful and methodical in my practice, maybe avoid a pose or two. I have built a practice for myself that adapts to my grief feelings. This practice has sustained me through multiple tragedies for sure, but it never ceases to give me confidence in my current body. Tuesday evening during my second aerial yoga class with Roze, I came into a strength challenging pose and when she cued us into the pose, I popped right into it without hesitation. Once there I was shocked and wide-eyed. How did my body do that?!?!

This body is much stronger than I give it credit for.

I sometimes think about what my body would look and feel like today if I had allowed that day eighteen years ago to end my yoga practice. Maybe I’d be into running or biking now. Though, I know myself and I can’t see that I’d ever be into running, but who knows. I used to be really into kickboxing and step aerobics. Alternate timelines and universes exist, but I can’t imagine it. Really, it is not that I can’t imagine it. I’d just rather not imagine it. My physical confidence is always sitting on shaky ground. The only place I’ve been able to feel truly confident and relaxed with this body is when I’m on my yoga mat. I know I have said this often here and I know I have many gratitude posts about my yoga.

This is not a gratitude post about yoga. Instead, it is a gratitude post about making time to do the things we love that nourish our bodies. I am also grateful for Chris’s reminder all those years ago. You do not honor the loved ones we have lost by living for them. We honor them by living our own lives the best we can and continuing to do the things that bring us joy.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

The month of July is a subscription renewal month for me. My Yoga Alliance membership is due, along with teacher insurance. I have to renew my rights to my old domain name and also my current Square Space account. Every year, when I get those reminder emails about this or that automatically renewing and billing my card, I think about not renewing any of it. It is a moment of pondering about gain. What do I gain from all of these subscriptions?

Of course if I want to teach yoga, I have to stay up to date with all of the yoga stuff. There was a time I was maintaining all of that while not teaching because I felt that I would probably eventually go back to teaching. Which I did. I’m not teaching much, one class a week, subbing a class here and there, but it is enough. I feel content. I have been considering the idea of approaching a studio about doing a yoga enhancer workshop (incorporating yoga props into a practice), but this is something I don’t want to take on until after October. Keeping the domain and Square Space account feels a little splurgy. There is zero financial gain here. Maybe I’m helping someone. Maybe I’m teaching someone something new. I have no idea. But I do it. I blog because I love it. I teach yoga because I love teaching yoga. The answer to that question about gain that I ask myself every year is that I gain mental health and joy in inspiring others either in their own yoga practice or through my writing.

I am thankful to have both of these outlets.

That being said, it is nice to take a break every now and then. There is a lot of giving of myself when I teach yoga and when I share I my thoughts here. Sometimes it is good to step away and recharge that giving battery. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m stepping away for two weeks, hopefully filled with with fresh thoughts and pretty pictures.

THE ONLY EXCUSE

I’ve been a ‘member’ of the Yoga In the Park facebook group for years. I joined the group thinking that I would go to the yoga events, but I never do. The group usually meets at 2 pm on Sundays outside of the Nelson Art Museum. So..yoga with shuttlecocks. The teachers rotate and vary. The class is free but donations are recommended. I see the reminders for classes all the time and I always come up with some reason for not getting my butt off the couch. That’s not fair. My butt is usually not on the couch at two in the afternoon on a Sunday. I’m usually in the kitchen chopping vegetables for the week or folding the last of the laundry. So my usual reasons for not going is that it is just inconvenient.

My marshmallow body is the excuse I’m using for everything these days. I just sit back and watch as my barrel shaped torso get larger and larger. I’ve taken to buying the kinds of dresses that keep you guessing on the shape of the body underneath, partially for reasons of girth and partially for reasons of I like to keep people guessing. I’ve been minimal maintenance over here for months. This attitude is fading. I have been consistently getting ten thousand or more steps in every day and I’ve added weights to my yoga practice. So, on Sunday when Michael asked me if I had plans, I told him that I was thinking of going to yoga in the park. He said if I rode my bicycle, he’d ride with me to the Nelson and then go do his own thing while I did yoga. I agreed and we figured out a way to strap my yoga mat to my bike. We were at the Nelson in no time and agreed to a meeting time. He went his way and I went mine.

I found a nice spot in the shade to roll out my mat and did some people watching while I waited for class to start. The class was nice, not too flowy but moderately challenging. My biggest distraction was the guy who rolled out his mat directly behind me. I mean DIRECTLY behind me. I’m sure that at some point during the class, his nose was inches from my ass. Surprisingly enough, this was not the thing that bothered me the most. What drove me absolutely bonkers was that the guy was wearing heavy wool socks. His yoga mat wasn’t a true a yoga mat, but one of those really thick gym mats and every time I was in down dog, I could see this man struggling. It took all my willpower to not be yoga teacher Cindy and tell the man to at least remove his socks. By the time savasana rolled around, the sun had shifted. So I moved my a foot forward to be in the shade and to create some distance.

And this is why I make for a terrible yoga student.

Michael rode up just as I was putting my yoga mat on my bike. I told him about yoga and wool socks. Then we rode our bikes to Char Bar in Westport for linner. We spent most of our afternoon on our bikes and I was not mad about it. In fact, I learned two things that day. First, I don’t think I like yoga in the park. I mean, I didn’t hate yoga in the park, but it may not be the yoga class for me. Secondly, I love riding my bicycle. Like, I really enjoy riding around on my bike. When I was a kid, I went every where on a bike. Bicycles went with us on camping trips. I always had a bike. Once we moved here, I hated riding. Even Bessy the Bingo bike turned out to be only mildly enjoying to ride and that was only if I wasn’t going anywhere with Michael. Because I am slow and I don’t like to work hard. It’s raining here today and I am actually sad that I couldn’t ride my bike to work. And I am little confused as to who I am now because I never thought I would be someone that enjoys riding a bicycle to and from work. My ebike makes me less slow and I only work a little. That’s not true. I get in decent cardio workout while riding. I never stop peddling and the peddle assist kicks off once you reach a certain speed. It’s only there to give you a nudge up the hill.

A nudge up the hill is all I needed.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Josephine and I have made it out for our morning walks every day this week with the exception of Monday. During our walks, we have seen rabbits, opossums, one fox, two deer, and one raccoon. We heard one owl. The raccoon almost doesn’t count as a walk sighting because he was in our backyard. Josephine treed him in our big walnut tree in the back. Now all of our pet doors smell like fox urine because I have sprayed all of the entry ways with it to discourage another raccoon kitchen party.

I have made a personal connection with my yoga mat every day this week. Meaning, I have gotten my yoga mat out for other reasons besides when I am teaching in some time. My personal yoga practice has been trash for weeks. On the few times I’ve been on my mat, when I lay down for final relaxation, I last five minutes before I’m up and turning the timer off. Thursday, I stayed a full fifteen minutes without fidgeting or falling asleep. My body is pleasantly sore from planks and lunges.

My physical health has seen better days. I’ve allowed myself to fall out of some good habits I created a while back and the result is that in addition to feeling mentally blah, I’m feeling unpleasantly pudgy. It is time to roll my body out of stationary mode. To help me do this, I have created a whole new color coded calendar I call Healthy Body and it’s devoted to everything from walk schedules to doctors’ appointments. I feel really smart for doing this, so smart that I am going to create another calendar for just writing and maybe for photography. I’m going to give myself some deadlines because I am deadline motivated.

I kind of marinated for longer than usual in a state of blahs knowing full well that I’d feel better if I’d just move my body. It was a trap. This state of the blahs. The longer I marinated, the harder it was to motivate myself into motion. I’m not saying a week of movement has brought me out of the blahs, but I will say that I am seeing more in color and feeling a little more than nothing. May is Mental Health Awareness month and I just realized that May is here in two days (depending on when you’re reading this). I told you that I am highly motivated by deadlines. I’m kicking things off a week early.

Today I have deep gratitude for my morning walks with Josephine and my yoga mat.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I hate public speaking of any kind. As soon as standing on a stage, singing or playing an instrument, stopped paying for college, I walked off the stage with a sigh of relief. I am surprised that I do not have these same feeling when I’m standing in front of a class of yoga students, but I stepped into my yoga teacher self with ease and comfort. I loved it, but I also really loved the break I gave myself from teaching after moving to Kansas City. I have been reluctant to step back into my yoga teacher self. That break gave me space to cultivate my own personal practice that was so much sweeter than the one I had before when I was teaching all the time. I did not want teaching to interfere with that and I’ve done well at keeping my set boundaries.

I’ve been teaching yoga classes at work for some time now. What started out as a last minute fill-in for another yoga teacher, turned into a regular schedule. The yoga classes I teach have morphed and changed based on requests and needs. I now teach a chair yoga class once a week. When I was first approached to change my Wednesday samatva yoga class to a chair yoga class, I said ‘yes’ immediately but was a little disappointed. I wasn’t really into the idea of teaching a chair class, but I asked for the class to remain a forty five minute class as opposed to cutting the length down to thirty minutes.

I love my chair yoga class. I didn’t think I would love teaching it as much as I do, but it is my favorite thing to teach now. My friend Melissa, who has a spinal cord injury and is wheelchair bound, comes to my class and she is a willing (Guinnea pig) participant. This class has become the most soothing class for me to teach, as well as the most challenging. I have always struggled with a forty five minute time frame for a yoga class because it never feels like I have enough time to do the poses I want to do and give my students a decent final relaxation. I do not have that problem in chair yoga. When my chair yoga students peel themselves up from a ten or fifteen minute savasana, I can feel their peace and calmness radiating from them.

This brings me joy.

I recently sat down with the director of our fitness facility, Amie, to talk about my classes and ideas for January. First, I can’t believe we are already planning for the next year. What the hell happened to this year?!? Anyway, here we are barreling right on into 2023 like a truck with no brakes. Class attendance for my Thursday evening class is pretty low to absolutely empty and I told Amie that it should probably be cut from the team. She agreed that the timing for that class just wasn’t working and then she proposed an idea of teaching a six week beginning yoga course starting on Monday evening in January. My feeling about this idea registered on my face before it really hit me in my heart because Amie said something about how my whole face lit up with excitement.

Y’all?!?! I LOVE teaching a beginning yoga series!

I think it’s because of my first yoga experience and how my practice was born from just muscling my way through class after class. Yoga teacher training was a V8 for my personal practice because I learned how to do those poses without muscling my way through it. Then I learned how to teach this to other people. This knowledge of how to teach people the safe way to get in out of yoga poses makes me want to buy the world a Coke, but instead of soda make it a yoga mat. My six week beginning yoga class is for every person who ever said to me “I can’t do yoga because I’m not flexible.” It is for every person who as ever walked into a class and felt overwhelmed because they had no idea what was going or what even the teacher was saying. I could go on and on, which makes me realize just how excited I am to teach yoga again.

That’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Right as you walk in the front doors to our local Trader Joe’s is a display of pumpkins, two large crates full of decorative gourds and on the first day of October, this display is a traffic jam of aggressive women filling their carts with these pumpkins and gourds. After successfully maneuvering my shopping cart through the pumpkin gauntlet, I ran smack into a display of dwarf olive trees. There were eight of them and a woman was scooping all of them into her cart. I managed to snag one of the eight even though I had no business buying an olive tree. I kill house plants. I have had plants rescued from my house because I am not a plant witch. I grabbed that olive tree with a fierce determination to keep this thing alive and so help me, I’m going to do it. In three years, we will be eating olives that I grew.

Then I went home and hot glued one hundred googly eyes onto my Halloween wreath.

This was how Michael found me when he got up. I was sitting at our table, hot glue gun in one hand and a bowl full of googly eyes in the other. He suggested I take a break by going to get lunch. I agreed and pointed out the olive tree and that needed a pot and potting soil. We also needed to decide Saturday’s dinner. I glued the last eye onto the wreath while Michael was in the shower and then the two of us drove off in search of food and planting material, which didn’t take as long at it usually takes us to do Saturday things. This meant that I was able to get all of the things done, the cleaning, the planting, the Halloween decorating, all of it accomplished before dinner. I did the things that I usually put off until Sunday and so on Sunday, I didn’t have to do anything.

So I went to a yoga class, a rare treat for me.

I’m telling you all of this now in a Thankful Friday posting because all of those things that I did last weekend have played a big role in helping me tackle this week. I woke up Wednesday morning and thought “It’s only Wednesday.” Michael sent a text to me that he had only poured hot water into his travel tea mug, no tea bags or sugar. I forgot my smoothie. The day was gray and cloudy. And all I could think was we still had two more days of this week to get through. This week has been long and uncomfortable.

Every time I have walked up to my front door, I have chuckled at the one hundred googly eyes looking back at me from my wreath. It is my reminder to allow for silliness and the healing power of laughter. Walking past the dining room window and seeing my olive tree still looking happy has brought me joy. That olive tree, a symbol of peace, is also a reminder of resilience. Making it to an actual yoga class set a precedent for my own practice this week, which has gotten a little wonky lately because of teaching and schedules. Josephine and I even made it out for our morning walks every morning this week. Sticking to these routines have been a source of grounding and have kept me present.

I am thankful that this week is nearly at an end and that I have this weekend to refill my buckets with good things.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Yesterday, I pulled up a Harry Styles playlist on Amazon and had a fun, joyful and a bit silly yoga practice. There were dance breaks between surya namaskars. There were a number of surya namaskars that flowed along with the music. I laughed at myself and I smiled a whole lot. When it was time for savasana, I opened a guided meditation from Sarah Blondin entitled “You are Allowed”. I set myself up in supported fish and settled in, feeling my heart thumping at the base of my ears. As per usual, whenever I listen to a guided meditation, the words being spoken flow in out of my consciousness. I kind of pay attention to them and then I don’t and then I do and then I don’t. I had stopped paying attention to this meditation but then Sarah said something that brought me back with a jolt.

Can you remember when you stopped allowing yourself to feel? Can you remember when you began coping instead of laughing, can you remember to your one? What caused you to leave the seat of your heart?

Coping instead of laughing.

I think those are the words that smashed down the hardest on a nerve, though all of those words hit something. I know that in the last ten years, I have spent more time coping and less time laughing, but sometimes I laugh in order to cope. I know in the last ten years, I have spent more time purposefully not feeling. I know what caused me to leave the seat of my heart. I know that the seat of my heart is forever changed and settling into that space is not as comfortable as it once was. It is like how I am still struggling to find my comfortable seated position after tearing my ACL. I just can’t seem to sit still and be comfortable for long periods of time. While I have been working and stretching within my yoga practice to get back to a comfortable seated position, I have done nothing to make the seat of my heart a more comfortable space or even an inviting space.

How can I rearrange to make the seat of my heart a more comfortable space?

Don't talk to me now, I'm molting
Don't tell me that it's revolting
Every inch of us
Every inch of us
Every inch of us, a walking miracle

-Andrew Bird, Inside Problems

Every inch of is a walking miracle. We can do more than just cope. I can do more than just cope. It might be time for some molting, shedding some things that no longer serve me or give me comfort. The seat of my heart does not have to be plush. It only has to be comfortable enough to spend some amount of time there.

Summer projects.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Way back, in what feels like another life (it kind of was another life), I taught a lot of yoga. Teaching yoga made me feel joyful and confident. The day-to-day job and living conditions did not make me feel joyful or confident. So I piled on classes to offset. When we moved to Kansas City, I put a hold on teaching yoga to give myself time to settle into a new job and a new home. During this time of settling in, my personal yoga practice grew into something very strong and beautiful and it is this practice that has kept me from leaping off tall buildings.

I am now back to teaching two yoga classes a week. The new schedule started last week and yesterday was the first time in over two weeks where I rolled out my mat for my own practice and trying to remind myself that reason for this is not because of my new teaching schedule. Teaching yoga changes your personal practice. Your personal practice turns into poses to balance out your body from teaching and lots of savasana. In the before now times, I always struggled to find time in my day for my own practice. Between work and teaching gigs and the time spent getting from one place to another, I just didn’t have the time for myself. The boundary line between teaching yoga and having my own practice got blurry. I am injured and I’ve been taking my time getting back into things like walking and yoga, but I don’t want my classes and my injury to become my goto excuse for not getting on my mat. Yesterday’s practice was gentle and challenging and ended with a fifteen minute savasana. It was everything I needed and a reminder to maintain some boundaries. It is no surprise for any one of you to hear that I struggle with maintaining boundaries. Many of us find it difficult to maintain healthy boundaries. The boundaries I set for myself maintain a very important work/life balance, one that doesn’t take much for me to mess up.

This is the snowball time year. We are only three months away from a new year. This is the time of year when our boundaries keep us sane. My situation is no where close to what it was all those years ago. I’m happy with my job and content with my living space. There is no reason for that teaching yoga/doing yoga boundary to get blurry. I am grateful for my hiatus from teaching yoga. That time allowed me to deepen and establish a strong personal practice, but that time away also made me appreciate how much I enjoy the art of teaching. I am grateful for this balance of feeling really good about the classes I teach and really good about the alone time I spend on my mat.

And I feel really good about this current balancing act.

THANKFUL FRIDAY AND A BIT OF BUSINESS

First of all, my COVID test came back negative and we are all breathing a big giant sigh of relief. I will say that I did not make good use of my time off. I did some cleaning and I mowed the yard, but mostly I sat on my bed, locked in my bedroom watching hours of Gossip Girl. I didn’t watch this series when it first aired and I have to say that it is positively terrible. But I’m addicted. I’m only near the end of season two of this six season series, but they have already used every cliched story line in the book. Most of them are all in the lines of teenage boy has an affair with an older woman, one of those older women was their teacher. It’s stupid and the perfect thoughtless television to be watching while quarantined. Particularly when you lack motivation for anything thought provoking. I also avoided all news and only took minor glances at social media.

Though, I am not thankful for feeling like crap for half of that time or stressing about the possibility of having COVID and passing it on to those around me, I am grateful for the time off to do nothing. The truth is, I haven’t been feeling like participating in day to day things for a couple of weeks. I was feeling run down and brain fried well before coming down with some sinus funk. I started falling back into some old patterns like meal tracking and calorie counting, things I do when I’m feeling bad about myself. I had gotten out of the habit of routinely using my Neti pot and with an allergy season sprinkled with poor air quality, it is no surprise to me that my sinus cavity finally revolted. This is my loop. I never allow myself down time and it takes an actual illness for me to give myself permission to slow down. I’d like to tell you that I’m learning and maybe I have learned. Maybe I’m just stubbornly obstinate.

Stubbornly Obstinate is my new band name.

Now for some business. I might have mentioned that I would bring Yoga in a Tiny Space back to Zoom in September. That plan is going to be put on hold for an indefinite amount of time because I have a new teaching gig. I want to see how this new schedule plays out before I decide if I want to add to that plate. I also have something scheduled for every weekend in September. Taking my Zoom yoga class off the schedule makes room for some personal time. Personal time that I would like to fill with more trash TV.

I mean inward self reflection.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

The room where I usually do yoga at work has been occupied this week for online conference viewing. So I had to find a temporary yoga space. Because the weather has been so nice though, I decided to take my practice outside. Every day this week, I have unrolled my yoga mat in a shady spot and have had a lovely practice outside. Each time I have left my mat feeling like the inside space between my brain and skull has been scrubbed clean and slightly expanded, which sounds like it would be uncomfortable. I can assure that it is far from uncomfortable. It is in fact a rather nice feeling. It sort leaves you feeling light and floaty.

I read a paper recently that was published this year in Environmental Research (because sometimes I read scientific publications for fun). The paper was a study on mental health and the effects of indoor versus outdoor greenery. The study found that students isolated at home during the COVID pandemic experienced better mental health when exposed to more greenery. This could be indoor plants and gardens or outside green spaces. It didn’t matter. Plants and green spaces make us feel better. For me, it is and has always been outside spaces, mostly because I am not good with keeping indoor plants alive. This, I am sure, stems from a childhood spent outside climbing trees, flying kites, or reading books while lounging on a blanket, in the tall grass forte I’d built for myself in the pasture. I would wander in around dinner time, scratchy and dirty, with that same light and floaty feeling.

I had forgotten about that feeling or maybe I just took it for granted. Maybe I didn’t realize it was missing from my life because it was a constant for so many years. For so many years, I didn’t need that feeling. I am living a second life now and it is a lot different from the previous one. Last weekend, I spent most of my time sitting on a covered deck and staring at a lake. I did yoga on that deck in the early morning hours while a light rain fell. I watched large herons swoop down and skim the water. There was even a bald eagle that flew across the water and at one point looked like it was going to land on the railing of the deck. It was this time spent at the lake that encouraged me to take my yoga practice outside this week.

I am a scheduler and I am working on scheduling more moments of light and floatiness into my daily life. I signed myself up for a restorative aerial yoga class next week and I’m thinking of making Wednesday evenings roller skating evenings. Every day, weather permitting, is going to be outside yoga day.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

I have written about my yoga practice here so many times. All of you know how important this practice is to me and the health of this body. I believe so strongly in the benefits of a yoga practice that I went to yoga teacher training and became a teacher. I teach because I want to share the joy that I get from practicing yoga. I follow @goodtalkthanks by Mira Jacob on Instagram and she posted something in her feed this week that made me shake my head at myself.

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It was like she was pointing a finger directly at me and I immediately went to giveindia.org and made a donation. Then when I went to remind everyone about Yoga In A Tiny Space, I made it clear that donations for class would go to giveindia.org. When the pandemic was at its worst in this country, I gave frequently to Harvesters and bought extra food for food banks every time I went to the grocery store. I did what I could to help the people in my community. But I limited the size of that community. My community is not just my surrounding area. I work with and am friends with a number of scientists from India. I have been blessed with tupperware containers of homemade saag paneer. The daily practice that keeps this body whole and fills this heart with joy is a practice that comes from India. Though I may never get a chance to set foot in that country, I am forever grateful for the gifts their culture has brought to me. Those gifts, this practice, makes the people of India part of my community.

The massive COVID outbreak that is happening in India right now is devastating. The average reported death rate for just Wednesday was 3,645 people. There is a shortage of oxygen and hospital beds and other medical supplies. The US has urged people working in the US Embassy to leave India as soon as it is safe. Things are really really bad in India right now and they could really use our help. I am giving because I have been blessed by the people of this country. I am giving because it is the right thing to do. I urge you all to consider making a donation too.

Thank you.

YOGA IN A TINY SPACE

In Octavia Butler’s Parable of The Sower, the middle class and the working poor all live in gated communities that they are constantly defending from homeless people who have been displaced due to Climate Change (not a farfetched idea and it is kind of happening already). Octavia Butler didn’t so much write a book of fiction as she did a book about what is really going to happen in our future. The book’s center character’s Dad is a teacher and he does most of his teaching online when the internet is working. You do not know how many times I thought about that during the pandemic, particularly whenever the “low internet signal” warning would flash up on my screen during a Zoom meeting.

So I am completely surprised that I voluntarily created a Zoom yoga class and that I am still doing it.

I never ever saw myself as the kind of yoga teacher who would create videos or record classes. The sound of my own voice makes me want to crawl up under a rock and die. I am still honestly amazed at how my yoga students endure the sound of my voice all the way through a class. I have nearly fallen over in shock when a student tells my voice is soothing. I just want to yell at them “DO YOU EVEN HAVE EARS!!?!?!?” I feel awkward and ugly in front of a camera, probably because I am rarely the one in front of the camera. I am always on the other side of the camera, taking pictures of others who probably also feel awkward and ugly in front of a camera. Videos and recorded classes where just not going to be my thing.

I learned some things after teaching that first class and bought myself a ring light. I now have two cameras going to give my students the best views and I no longer feel like I’m a yelling. I like that I teach the class in the very same place where I have my personal home practice. I like that I don’t have to leave my house to teach this class. I had one week (just one) where I did not have students show up to Zoom and the great thing about that is that I didn’t drive across town for nothing. Here’s the thing I like the most about this whole Zoom yoga teaching thing. I have two students who are my regulars. They always show up. That’s not what I like the most, though of course I love that they like it enough to keep coming back every Thursday. The part I like the most is that none of us are in the same state. Sarah and Christy are both college friends who I haven’t really spent time with since college ended for us. There would be a few gatherings with Sarah over the years, but Christy and I had our first visit in over twenty years back in 2019 when I was in D.C. for a conference. Now I see these women almost every week, which is crazy because we are all stretched out across the country with Sarah in southern Oklahoma and Christy in Virginia and me in the middle.

I have gotten comfortable teaching in this format, which is something I never thought would happen. Despite the weirdness of technology and not being in the same room, there is an intimacy to be found here. There is vulnerability here. I am allowing people to come into my bedroom with yoga props piled on the bed and a full laundry basket of dirty clothes right in clear view. None of it bothers now. I have always found joy in teaching yoga and teaching in this format doesn’t seem to diminish that joy. This week, the class will start with a seated warm-up before moving into a few rounds of sun salutations. Our asana practice will be a gentle flow of standing and balancing poses before winding down for final relaxation. This is a practice for all levels of yoga. There is a link to the Zoom room on my Facebook page or you can email me for the link. The class is free, but if you would like to make a donation, you can email me about ways to do that.

Hope to see you in the virtual world this Thursday at 6:00!

GOAL WEIGHT

I am currently reading Phoebe Robinson’s Everything is Trash, But it’s Okay. Phoebe Robinson is a comedian/writer that if you haven’t read any of her essays, you should be reading her essays because she is smart, insightful and hilarious. I read You Can’t Touch My Hair last year and felt like this is one (of many) of those books you give to that one ‘friend’ who just doesn’t get the concept of white privilege. Phoebe Robinson is definitely on my list for that imaginary dinner party. She is also adorable and just might make my ridiculous Life List as Hug Phoebe Robinson. I am not far into Everything is Trash. Actually, I got stuck on page four for way too long because I couldn’t get past the idea of a Google search involving David Bowie and pets and if I too should try that Google search. I eventually made it to the essay titled I Was a Size 12 Once for Like Twenty-Seven Minutes where she talks about body confidence and the first two sentences grabbed ahold of me so that I nodded my head in understanding as I read the whole essay.

Since I was fourteen, my brain has been consumed with the ways my body is not good enough, meaning not attractive to straight dudes and/or failing to meet fashion-industry standards. Even now, at thirty-four, and with a deeper understanding of how we’ve been conditioned to have unhealthy relationships with our bodies, I still remember what I weighed eight years ago as if that’s important information.

I had some birthday money to spend at Anthropologie. They were also having a big 50% off sale items sale, which I can never resist. I didn’t really need anything, but if you tell me the price is going to be FIFTY PERCENT off an already marked down price, I am going to find something that I suddenly desperately can’t live without. In this case, it was a pair of pants, but because of the sale, the only sizes left were those that were not really my size. I bought the closest to my size and just hoped it might work. When they arrived, I immediately ripped open the package and tugged them onto my body. I struggled with buttons and the pants felt snug. I frowned, but then put them in my closet with the idea of making them ‘goal’ pants. Later on, Michael asked me about the pants. I told them they are a bit snug, but that’s okay because they can be something to aim for. He gave me a questioning look and said “Really? You think you need to lose more weight?” I shrugged and said something about losing a few more pounds. Then he asked me “What’s your goal weight?” and I couldn’t give him an answer. I don’t have a ‘goal’ weight because in my head, I can always stand to lose a few more pounds.

And that is FUCKED UP.

That says to me that no matter what, I will never be the “right” size or weight and the fact that this is in my brain, makes me furious. I should know better. I do know better! There are long stretches of time when I do not think about my weight or the amount of cheese I’ve eaten. I don’t step onto a scale everyday or even once a week. Last week, I missed two days of exercise because I had a sore throat and felt icky and I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for skipping the rowing machine or the barre class on those days. I do feel bad about cancelling my yoga class, but I’d rather be at my best when teaching yoga, than sickly. The thing is, my weight is not forefront in my mind. The awareness of my size is just hovering in my periphery, waiting for just the right moment to swoop down and make me feel like shit. I know I’m not alone in this way of thinking because all women have had to grow up in this male set/fashion industry standard.

Here’s where Phoebe Robinson’s essay really resonated with me. She went on to talk about how all of us have these feelings, but then she goes on to talk about how we do not support each other outside of our own feelings. Phoebe listed some statistics from a study that shows how obese women are less likely to be hired for jobs, even though they are well qualified to do the job. She went on to write about how often obese women are dismissed and ignored just because of their size and that is some straight up trashiness right there. It got me wondering if I do enough to support those around me. When was the last time I expressed my beliefs that all bodies are yoga bodies? Reading Phoebe’s book of essays forces me to look at my own problems and issues while reminding me that all of us are struggling and how we can lesson each others struggle by supporting, hearing and encouraging one another. That means doing more than just ‘liking’ someone’s Instagram photo. For me, this means creating a yoga class where every body feels welcome. The Zoom yoga space I am creating hopefully does this.

I put those pants on Saturday and there is absolutely nothing wrong with how they fit my body. Have I lost weight since the last time I tried them on? I don’t know. I don’t think so and I don’t care. Whatever my current weight is at this moment? That’s my goal weight.

YOGA IN A TINY SPACE

On the last day of February (my true love gave to me), I was the most productive I’ve been on a Sunday in months. I woke up and made myself some cream eggs, which I ate while watching CBS Sunday Morning. Then I cleaned the kitchen, watched an episode of Alias Grace while I made up the calendar for March and then I cleaned the chicken coop. I came in from cleaning the coop and boiled eggs for the week while stripping the sheets off my bed and replacing them with clean bedding. Then I made two dozen mini egg cups for morning snacks, cleaned up the mess I made in the kitchen and started a load of laundry. I had the egg cups cooling on wire racks by 12:30 in the afternoon. I even took a shower and brushed my teeth, two activities that may not happen on a Sunday.

Who is this person?!?!

The Cabbage sat on the couch playing MineCraft while Michael snored on the other end and I created an event page on Facebook for my next virtual yoga class. Despite my poor video/lighting setup, my first Zoom yoga class appears to have been a hit. People enjoyed it and asked for more. I learned a lot about technology and how not to setup for virtual yoga. As a result, I purchased a ring light and played around with a setup in my bedroom that is not perfect, but feels more comfortable. This also means that Michael will not have to leave the house while I’m teaching a class. He was very helpful in setting me up for the first class and it was his idea to move me out to the living room where he pointed every spare lamp at my face. It worked, but I felt distant like I was on a stage. Josephine was crazy and spent the first five minutes of class hitting me with her toys or flopping against me. I had to put her in time out so I could teach. It did not help that it has been a year since I’ve taught an actual yoga class. I was rusty, but I think of last Thursday as my first pancake. It wasn’t pretty, but it was edible.

So if you are interested in doing some gentle, beginning yoga with me on Thursday evenings at 6 central time, shoot me an email. I’ll send you the Zoom link and ways to make a donation for class. This Thursday we will focus on our feet and building strong foundations for standing poses.

JAPA

I signed myself up for a two hour Yoga Mala Zoom class on New Year’s Day that ended up lasting almost three hours. I had spent the evening before eating an array of hordevors from Trader Joe’s freezer section and washing it all down with a whole lot of gin. I woke up early New Year’s Day with a dry mouth, sinuses swollen from dehydration and a specific ache in my body. My first thought was how was I going to make it through a hundred and eight rounds of sun salutations without throwing up. I didn’t. There were some tears, but I made it through all one hundred and eight rounds. It was an intense start to the year. We’re dropping some bad habits this month and participating in Dry January. Starting the day with a yoga mala was my version of a Polar Bear Club, jumping into a freezing body of water.

This last weekend was the first weekend I’ve had without alcohol since Chris died.

That is not to say that I spend every weekend in a drunken stupor, but alcohol is a strong presence in my life. I’ll drink a bottle of wine on Friday and then spend Saturday evenings drinking gin and tonics until I stumble into bed. Waking up with a mild hangover is how I have crawled out of bed every Saturday and Sunday morning, moving through the daily chores of grocery shopping and laundry with a slightly throbbing temple. I have not always been like this. Friday evenings, during graduate school, were spent sharing pitchers of beer at Stonewalls. Often, I would end up drinking a little too much, but when graduate school was over those evenings of drinking a little too much ended. Chris and I would enjoy a craft beer or a glass of wine here and there, but alcohol was not a regular beverage. Alcohol became a regular weekend beverage when Chris died, an attempt to be numb, an act of boredom. An act of boredom turned into an act of habit. Inserting Micheal into this equation made the habit easy. He is the type that can’t have just one drink and he made sure my glass was never empty. He will struggle more than I will with dry January.

I don’t think I have ever really started a year with a clean slate, completely giving up a bad habit or diving straight into a bowl of kale. My so called resolutions never lead me in those directions. There is usually a good excuse for not quitting a habit. Now is not the time. I need this habit to get me through the next few months of grief. This habit makes it easier to be around certain people, to deal with minor irritants. What else am I going to do on a Friday night? I suggested dry January to Michael weeks and weeks ago. I thought for sure all of those excuses would bubble up and out and we’d start negotiating exceptions. It is my birthday month. What about my birthday Pimm’s cup? None of those excuses entered my mind until I typed them up just now. I have no excuses and there is no need for negotiations. I am open to the pain that comes with January and early February and I am prepared for it.

Late afternoon on Sunday, I did something I haven’t done in a really long time. I rolled out my yoga mat and did my own practice for about an hour and a half. I get on my yoga mat every day during the week, but on weekends, it sits rolled up in a corner of my room. There were random Saturdays where I would go to a studio class, but for the most part my yoga mat gathers dust on weekends. Sunday’s practice was not one hundred and eight sun salutations, less intense. I did my usual my usual vinyasa practice based on my training. It was a balanced practice of challenge and ease and it was good.

Maybe I am starting a new habit to replace and old one.

THE GIMMICK OF YOGA

Recently, Yoga Journal did a highlight on Kaiut Yoga. I started to flip right past the article, but the word ‘chiropractic’ caught my eye and I decided to give it a read. Kaiut yoga is almost identical to the style of yoga I was trained in, Samatva yoga. The practice consists of three distinct sections, a warm up, a main practice sequence and a closing sequence. The main practice sequence centers around poses that your body needs in that moment. It focuses on the parts of the body that are tight and lack free movement. Instead of contorting the body to fit into the pose, you make the pose fit the body. Which is also one of the main elements to Samatva yoga. The idea of Samatva yoga is that your practice is a balance to our daily lives. It is way to lesson the damage we do to ourselves with our usual daily activities, like sitting at a computer or microscope all day. Another aspect important in Samatva yoga is a twenty minute savasana (final relaxation) and just the other day there was an article about the benefits of a twenty minute savasana in the New York Times.

I moved into a very vinyasa/Ashtanga like yoga community. The studios I approached for teaching jobs mostly just dismissed me when I told them about Samatva yoga. I remember telling one studio owner about always ending my class with a fifteen to twenty minute savasana and she laughed at me. She couldn’t believe I would only spend about half an hour with the asana practice before moving on to final relaxation. I believe her words were “that’s a bit excessive.” I have had yoga teachers attempt to manipulate me into a yoga pose that is not right for my body. Every time I tried to explain that I don’t do poses where I don’t have joint on joint alignment, they would frown and walk away. I would be left alone with an inner commentary about how they think I can’t do a headstand and I’m using my wonky arms as an excuse. I’d have a whole conversation in my head about how I can totally do a headstand, but I don’t want to have achy elbows for the next three days because in order to have ‘proper’ alignment, I have to hyper-extend by elbows. It would make me feel wrong. I would question myself and think maybe I am just making excuses. Maybe I don’t do handstands because I’m weak. The dismissals and the self doubt played a big part in why I never really pushed to be part of the yoga community here. I have a couple of teachers I will work with. They know me; they know my background. Both of them know how to challenge me in my practice without asking me to compromise my safety. I miss their faces right now, but I have hopes for the Spring and Summer.

Yoga is no different than any other group exercise or sport. There is an undercurrent of focus on being the ‘right’ shape. B.K.S. Iyengar, a legend in the yoga community, was notorious for his focus on the right body shape. I heard a fellow yoga teacher tell a story about meeting Iyengar at a conference. Iyengar had given a talk then afterward there was a reception line where he greeted people in the audience. When the yoga teacher got his turn with Iyengar, he told Iyengar how much he admired him and that he himself had been practicing Iyengar’s style of yoga for years. Iyengar looked the man up and down and then patted the man on the belly as he said “It looks like you still have a lot of work to do.” All of us listening to him tell the story, gasped in shock, but this was quintessential Iyengar. You have to understand, Iyengar is more than a legend in the yoga community. He is considered to be one of the foremost yoga teachers in the world. His style of teaching inspired much of the styles of yoga we see here in the US. The teaching is that you make your body fit the pose and with today’s American ego this gets pushed to the extreme. The practice becomes all about perfection and sometimes even competition.

That is not true yoga.

There’s been a big shift in the last year to make yoga more inclusive. Well, of course. We’re seeing this everywhere, but Yoga Journal has been really pushing it in their magazines this year. There have been models of all race and genders appearing on the cover. They have featured yogis with disabilities, yogis of all ages and sizes. Still…I can’t help but think this a little bit of a too little too late situation. It feels like an attempt to jump on a bandwagon and I can’t help but feel a little bit sour over it. I also can’t help but feel slightly resentful. I received my training in teaching a balanced yoga practice eleven years ago and Yoga Journal is just now starting to feature my kind of practice. Yoga’s inclusion problem is deep and it is going to require more than just hanging a sign that reads “Everyone is welcome!” to fix it. This inclusion problem is going to require many current yoga teachers to open their minds real wide and maybe be a little less dismissive to alternative ways of teaching.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Aum

My boss walked into the office on Tuesday, looked at the microscope schedule and then said “Cindy, go home. Things are not busy here.” I frowned behind my mask. It is true that I have been the on-call person in our office for the past three weeks. Most of that time, I have been entirely on my own to clean and maintain five different systems and troubleshoot any problems that might come up, but I’m good with that. I’ve been good with being in the office. I didn’t want to go home, partly because I’ve been on a roll with the number of steps I’m getting in each day. I knew if I went home, I’d just become a couch slug for the day. So I stayed. I worked on coding while I ate my morning snack. Then I grabbed my yoga mat and walked up to the Nelson. When I got to the front lawn of the Nelson, I made my way to a shady spot created by one of the giant shuttlecock sculptures. I rolled out my mat and did an hour of yoga.

It was an hour of time well spent.

The Nelson is closed on Tuesdays right now and the sculpture gardens that surround the museum were mostly empty. The temperatures outside were prefect with a light cool breeze. Every time I looked up, I would see a monarch float by or a family of swallows swirling around. When my timer sounded to end my final relaxation, I carefully sat up and slowely opened my eyes. Then I rolled up my mat and strolled back to work, relishing my yoga high. I paused at Kauffman Gardens to take some pictures. I did not rush myself and as I got closer to my office, it suddenly occurred to me that this is what self care looks likes. I mean, I genuinely felt at peace, relaxed and focused. I realized that I had felt real joy in my yoga practice that day, something I hadn’t felt in some time. Yes, I know I’ve talked about my yoga practice and how it has been a touch stone for me this year, but my time on my mat has not always been necessarily joyful. It’s been good. It’s been the most useful tool for giving me at least one hour of quiet brain time. It just hasn’t always filled up my heart with joy.

Being okay is not the same as being filled with joy. While I do not expect to always feel joyful, I do expect to recognize moments of joy. What I learned this week is that I have not been paying enough attention to moments of pure joy. This year has not been a year without joy. This has just been a year where it has been more difficult to recognize and hold onto the joy that flutters in and out of daily life. Of course, the more difficult it is to recognize and hold onto joy, the more important it is to do so. So right now, I am holding onto that joyful hour of yoga at the Nelson, but I’m also strolling through my memory bank to make a mental list of joyful moments that I failed to notice.

When was the last time you took the time to give to yourself, what you endeavor to give others? - Sarah Blondin

When was the last time you took the time to find joy for just you?

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Changes

I officially resigned my teaching position at the Y. They called me last week to ask if I had plans of returning any time soon. This call came after the fourth email ( in as many weeks ) from the Y where I teach confirming another positive COVID case. So I told them that I don’t know when I would feel comfortable coming back. The person I spoke to was very understanding and told me that I was always welcome to come back. I am officially no longer teaching yoga and I have mixed feelings about this.

I once introduced myself to a yoga teacher here and when asked where I was teaching, I said “I teach at the Y.” He grimaced and said something about how the pay is terrible and yoga was better in a studio setting. While I don’t disagree that yoga is better in a studio setting, I did disagree with his general philosophy that yoga should only be taught in a studio setting. I have always seen myself of less than a yoga teacher and more of a yoga ambassador. The first yoga class I ever took was in a gym. I could barely afford the gym membership. I could most definitely not afford a gym membership and a membership to a yoga studio. I may have hated that first yoga class, but it put me on my yoga path. When I completed my yoga teacher training, I knew that I would end up teaching more classes in a gym setting than a studio. I wanted to bring quality, safe for your body, yoga to people who could not afford the gym and the studio. I also wanted to change some preconceived notions that some people have about yoga.

Good Lord, if I had a dollar for every time someone said to me “I can’t do yoga. I’m not flexible.”, I’d be rich.

Yet despite how I feel about making yoga more accessible to the masses, I am a little relieved with my resignation. My class at the Y had become a bit of a challenge. The space provided for the class was an open space and often someone would wander in from the gym area and set themselves up on one of the stationary bikes that lined the wall. I was always raising my voice to compete with the clanks and clinks and other noises of the gym. Wednesday evenings at 6:30 was just not a great time slot for a yoga class and my class size rarely exceeded more than three people. Driving the fifteen minutes to teach this class where I had to yell at the few students that attended once a week was become less fulfilling and more of a chore. I hate to say it, but if it hadn’t been for this pandemic, I would still be yelling at my three students and interrupting class to ask some random Joe to leave because this was a yoga class and not a spin class. I would still be holding onto this thing that no longer serves me.

I don’t know what this means for me as a yoga teacher. I know I have mentioned some sort of video series, but the reality of that ever coming to fruition is highly improbable. One of the things I love most about teaching is the connection I make with my students and I just don’t think I would be fulfilled by teaching to a recording camera. Not to mention all the cringing I would have to do during editing because of my voice or my how my body looked. I’ve over come a lot of self esteem issues, but watching myself on screen with out feeling completely humiliated is going to take more work. I guess my gratitude today comes in recognizing that sometimes the things you love are not necessarily serving you well. It doesn’t mean you have to stop loving it. It just means you find a new way to love it. For right now though, I’m content to settle into what is left of this year and maybe start finding a new way to do something I love.

THANKFUL FRIDAY

Nothing except

11 Likes, 0 Comments - Cindy Maddera (@elephant_soap) on Instagram: "Nothing except"

Thursday evening, I attended a yoga mala to celebrate the upcoming Winter Solstice. I signed up for it ages ago and kind of forgot about it. Then I remembered that I had decided to do this and I regretted putting my name on the sign up sheet. Everything that I could get into the mail has been sent. All the presents have been wrapped. Josephine’s been to the groomer’s. The house is as clean as I can get it right now what with all the snow and Christmas clutter. Despite all of that, I still had a lot to do before we headed out to Mom’s for the weekend. Did I really have an hour and half to spare for 108 sun salutations? Did I really have the energy to spare for 108 sun salutations?

The table in our break room is covered with treats. There are cookies and spicy Chex mix and some sort of homemade chocolate/peanut cup that must be laced with crack because I cannot stop eating them. I don’t understand how there are any still left. They have to be multiplying in the night. I am not a snacker or much of a stress eater, but on any given day this week you could find me shoving a handful of Chex mix into my mouth or two chocolate/peanut cups. Conversations that need to happen are weighing heavy on my mind. I am super busy at work (Do you read the New York Times ?!? Science doesn’t stop for the Holidays). We have a new dish soap that smells like Chris on the day he died and I am filled with anxiety that I will not come close to meeting the expectations some might have of me. Wednesday night, I dreamed that I stepped on the scale and was delighted to see that I had lost weight. Then the number on the scale started dropping. My delight turned to panic as I realized that I was disappearing.

So the real question I should have been asking myself was how could I not spare the time for 108 sun salutations? It is the time of year for self-care gurus to shout the loudest because they know how hard the Holiday season can be on a human. Social engagements, bright lights, loud noises, the struggle to meet expectations. All of these things wreck havoc on our mental and physical well being. Spending an hour and a half on my mat, in a place where I feel the most confident, secure and comforted, is the very least I can do for myself. But this class was not an easy lay on the floor yoga class. This was a physically and mentally challenging class. I mean a sun salutation is the original burpee. A hundred and eight of them with some warrior poses thrown in here and there and you will be left a sweaty mess with noodle arms. The mental aspect was just as rough. We started the class in meditation where Kelly asked us to focus on the 2009 self. “What piece of advice or warning would you give the 2009 you?”

Ha! Seriously? Buckle up baby.

Then we got to the very last round and suddenly Kelly was yelling at us to stay strong. “You are strong. Don’t ever believe that you are not strong.” And there I was pushing myself to stay in proper form as I lowered down through chaturanga, sweaty and crying and doing this. It is tattooed on my fucking wrist. I am strong. All that stuff up there. The hard conversations, the dish soap, not meeting expectations. They are nothing. I’ve had harder conversations. That dish soap can go in the garbage. I don’t have to meet anyone’s expectations except for the ones I set for myself. I am not responsible for anyone else’s happiness but my own. I am doing my best and right now my best is good enough for me. There is so much gratitude in that knowledge.

Don’t ever believe that you are not strong.

I am sending out a wish for peace and joy to all of you this Holiday Season.