Travel yoga and humidity humility

Tags

acceptance, Bikram yoga, Bikram yoga Brickell, community, gratitude, hot yoga, Miami, travel yoga, yoga with friends

Bikram Yoga Brickell in Miami

Recently, Husband had a work trip in Florida. He asked me if I wanted to go with him to Fort Myers and it was February and I’m not stupid so I said yes.

While he did work stuff, I took a little road trip to Miami to see a dear friend of mine who now lives there. She is a Bikramite but had not practiced in a while, since she was expecting her cutie-pie son. He was 9-weeks old and Mama needed the hot room. I was honored to be able to go with her to her first class back.

Understandably, she was nervous about returning to yoga. She wondered if anyone would remember her (they did) and if she would spend the whole class crying on the floor (she didn’t). But I was nervous, too. I always get nervous before travel yoga. I was anxious about what the room/teacher/students/temperature would be like.

This is the paragraph where I explain what all the problems were. Like, it was vacation yoga and I had been eating vacation food (fried artichoke and goat cheese po’boy, anyone?) and I’m not used to practicing that late in the evening (we were doing our first sit up around the time that I usually go to bed) and I had cramps and it’s really humid in Florida and …yeah.

I can come up with a lot of reasons why it wasn’t totally my fault that the woman who was still recovering from a c-section was pretty much kicking my ass.

But I realized during the second set of bow pose I had to take my own advice and sit down before I passed out.

Doing yoga in Miami is a little different than in Virginia. It was just a little…showier. There were modified breasts and rippling abs. Even in February there were a lot of tans. So, I had to dig extra deep into my pasty white soul to feel good about collapsing on my mat while everyone else locked out their knees.

I looked in the mirror, attempting to sit stoically. That annoying little part of me that wanted my friend/the teacher/Miss Boob Job to think I was a great yogi: that’s all just ego. That’s not helpful to me or anyone. This is the practice. But still, it flared up and tested me.

So, looked at that reflection of myself – an exhausted, wrung-out yogi on the floor – and tried to be kind. I tried to be present and breathe. Eventually, I got off the floor and back to the postures.

And when class was over I was so proud of my brave friend. As we walked to Publix and bought Coconut waters and cut up watermelon, she said she had been struck by the teacher’s comment that the mirror was “for alignment, not for judgement” and how she was grateful for the freedom to remove self-criticism completely.

I nodded, and it occurred to me for the first time that it’s not just alignment of your hips, it’s about alignment with the truth. Alignment with the moment. Alignment with your authentic self. Alignment with what is possible, and not possible, that day.

And then my friend got teary-eyed and said that even though class was hard, it was the first time in a long while that she had just taken a deep breath.

And she reminded me what this whole thing is about.

Thanks, L.

————————————–

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New post at Elephant Journal: Learning to be still

Tags

acceptance, acting, community, life choices, meditation, mindfulness, Monkey mind, yoga

Hello, yogis!

I hope all of you North American readers had a lovely Labor Day weekend.

I wanted to share my brand new article about meditation, which was just published in Elephant Journal!

Learning to be still

“It’s funny,” my therapist said, “most people get panic attacks about things that will never happen. You get panic attacks about something that happens pretty often.”

I didn’t think it was that funny.

Please click here to read more.

And as always, thank you so much for all your support – it’s never easy talking about anxiety and panic attacks in a public forum. But the open-heartedness I’ve felt here has made it possible for me to share and hopefully, be of use to someone who is dealing with similar challenges.

I hope you enjoy the article.

Peace,

Lisa

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I love gratitude and I love lists

Tags

Grace, gratitude, gratitude journal, writing

I have several bad habits. Chewing on ice is one of them. But I have another bad habit that is even more dangerous than the possibility of a cracked molar.

I have a habit of thinking that the moment I say “Wow – things are good!” that a vengeful god with a head shaped like a yin-yang symbol is going to appear and hand-deliver pancreatic cancer to everyone I love. I don’t know why I think this, but I’m perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. (Brene Brown talks a lot about this – and apparently I’m not alone with this horrible habit.)

But here’s the thing I’m trying to realize. Bad things might happen. Or they might not. Regardless, I don’t think it makes sense to go through life ignoring the good things in a feeble attempt to keep the bad things at bay. I’m just happier when I am grateful and when I recognize all the joyful things in my life. So, come what may – and I’ll say thank you for it.

So, that’s why it’s important for me to keep a gratitude journal. With everything that’s been going on, it’s easy to get caught up, overwhelmed and forget about the little things that are so integral to my happiness.

I’ve been writing a lot recently. I spend most of my life in my home office, typing away, with Grace at my feet. (As I write this, I have not left my house in FOUR days, with the exception of walking the dog.)

Lest this sound like complaining, let me assure you that I am totally thrilled about this situation. Lots of awesome writing-related things are going on and it’s downright dreamy.

However, at the end of the day, the last thing I want to do is more writing. I’m drained.

But you know what I’m never too tired for? Lists. I love lists.

Lists make everything so clean and clear and uncomplicated. And if there is any way for that list to be numbered??? Fantastic. It rights my world and makes me feel like I can handle anything – as long as it’s in list form.

Since writing a journal seems like more energy than I can muster before bed, so I’ve been keeping a gratitude LIST! Perfect. The basic outline looks like this:

8/27/13 – Today I am grateful for: 

1.

2.

3.

4. 

5. 

Isn’t that easy?

So, I’d like to offer up this idea to anyone who might be feeling a little stuck or ungrounded. It settles my heart right before going to sleep when I write out 5 things that I’m grateful for in that moment. It’s often the health of my family. Sometimes it’s that the Chinese place delivers. It tends to be mixture of the profound and the practical.

But it always makes me feel good to know that I am ending my day with one solid thought – a heartfelt thank you for this life.

And I’m slowly learning that I don’t have to get nervous and look over my shoulder after I say it.

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Dear K: thoughts for the yoga-curious

Tags

beginner, inflexible

A while ago, a friend asked me some questions about getting started with a yoga practice.

I’m not sure if she expected the impassioned diatribe that her email evoked.

Her concerns were pretty universal; I was worried about all these things when I first started, too. I’ve heard them many times from all kinds of people. When I say I do yoga, they say they would like to try it, but…

So, here is what I said to my friend. Maybe this can be useful to someone else.

Dear K,

Let me address your concerns.

“I am unbendy.”

Yes – that’s because you don’t do yoga, yet. Yoga is where you go to learn to get bendy. When someone tells me they can’t do yoga because they are not flexible, that’s like saying you can’t take piano lessons because you can’t play Mozart. As you go, you get bendy. I had a really hard time touching my toes when I started. There will be people in class that are bendier than you, but that’s okay. They were unbendy when they started.

“My body hurts.”

Absolutely. But the thing with finding a great yoga class/teacher is that it is a very safe way to get yourself moving. It’s still a hell of a workout, so in the beginning you are going to be as sore as you would be in a Body Pump class. But you’ll get strong as hell, too. When I walked into a yoga studio at the age of 30, I didn’t know it would lead to being pain-free for the first time in almost 20 years. Yeah, it ached a little getting there, but it was so worth it.

“I feel ridiculous.”

I love this point because it is honest and so very important. Yoga deals with the body but it is so much more about managing the mind. It’s a moving meditation and everything that you need to deal with emotionally is going to come up. You are doing yoga so that you can let go and kill your ego. Everyone in the class, regardless of how skinny or bendy or cute they look in their short-shorts, had a first class where they felt lost and scared and incompetent. It’s just part of the deal. The yoga studio is where you learn to stop being so hard on yourself, stop judging yourself and just be in the moment and do the best you can. Ditch the desire to be the best yogi in the room. I’ve been doing this 4 years, 4 times a week and work really hard at it – I’m nowhere near the best in the room. But that is not the point in the slightest. It’s your own time, your own workout, your own mediation to deal with your own stuff.

Yogis tend to be a very non-judgmental group. They are usually just thrilled that you are interested in learning about the practice that they love. No one expects you to be good when you are a beginner. (And you are considered a beginner for like, 10 years.)

I’ve struggled through classes – right after my dog died, right after a long flight and right after I made some unfortunate food/drink choices. And sometimes my classes are really hard for no discernible reason.  But I’ve always felt like my class has embraced me and it was totally fine, because we’ve all been there. No one wondered why I wasn’t doing a better backbend or why I sat down so early. We do yoga in a group and love that communal energy but it’s a totally individual practice.

Yoga has stopped my panic attacks, fixed issues lingering from my broken back and strengthened my marriage. I will be eternally grateful to the practice.

So, take a deep breath, get out there and play around with different styles. Give it at least three classes before you decided if you like it. Give yourself permission to fall down and look silly and be new. You deserve that.

With all my love (to all you budding yogis)

~Lisa

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Valentine’s Day: yogi style

Tags

Valentine's Day

Valentine’s day is here, in all its cloying, grasping, cheesy-plastic-hearts glory.

This is a holiday that seems to cause a lot of anxiety. People who are not in a relationship feel pressure to be coupled. People who are in a relationship feel pressure for theirs to look like something out of a romantic comedy.

What a mess.

Valentine’s day has good intentions; the celebration of love is a beautiful thing. I remember back to grade school when Valentine’s day was about those flimsy paper cards and everybody got one, regardless of their popularity. That tradition seems so much more authentic to the spirit of the day than the grown-up version.

Now, February 14th seems to be about expensive dinners, flowers that immediately start wilting and stressed out people striving for an impossible ideal.

Anything with that much pressure is bound to explode.

Does that make me sound unromantic? Maybe I am unromantic in the traditional sense, because the romance of movies makes me roll my eyes.

I love real romance. I love the connection that comes from being deeply understood and accepted. That just doesn’t happen to come in a heart-shaped box.

Whether you are in a romantic relationship or not, let’s de-clutter some of the extraneous garbage from our friend St. Valentine. Let’s simply celebrate love. Tell someone that you are crazy about them. Tell your partner, your hairdresser, your friend or your cat.

Tell them that you smile when they walk in the room and that you feel safe enough to cry in front of them. Tell them that they matter. Tell them that their soul is unique and valued and they make your world a better place. Tell them that they are perfectly imperfect and they never have to change to be worthy of your adoration.

Write it on a post-it note or leave it on a voicemail or tell them over a cup of coffee in the morning. Just make sure you tell them.

So, maybe I am a bit of a romantic mush. I love love, in all it’s forms. I just don’t think it needs to come with a prix-fix menu.

And that’s why my Valentine’s Day will not involve candy or blood diamond jewelry. It will be about connection, gratitude and being in the present moment. I’ll be spending the evening getting all hot and sweaty with Husband – in our Bikram yoga hot room.

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Let’s put a pin in it: acupuncture

Tags

acupuncture, alternative medicine, healing

Needles are not my thing. I know people say that acupuncture needles are very thin and so they don’t hurt, but I thought they were lying.

Okay, maybe I don’t mean lying, I just mean they are trying to make themselves look good. You know, when people say, “Oh, the hike is not that challenging” and then look surprised and full of smug pity when I am panting and falling down the side of a mountain. Or they say “that dish is not that spicy” and I’m choking because my mouth is on fire. Then they look at me like I’m a wuss – which I totally am when it comes to long hikes and spicy food.

But this ankle injury was dragging on and by month number two, I was ready to try out acupuncture.

Here’s what I learned:

1. Acupuncture doesn’t hurt. Not just like I’m trying to be cool. For reals.
2. My ankle immediately felt 90% better and within a few days was totally back to normal. Awesome.

When I went for my acupuncture session I was a tad nervous, but my acupuncturist was the perfect mixture of competent medical practitioner and huggy Earth Mother and she made me feel comfortable immediately. She asked me to show her what hurt my ankle most. I pointed my right foot and she asked me for a pain number. I winced and told her it was an 8.

Then, she poked around my left wrist and asked if I felt anything. I didn’t, and I kept thinking this was odd since my wrist was fine. Until she got to this one spot that sent shooting pains up my arm and I told her so – by yelling “OW!”

She said “great” (it didn’t seem “great” to me, but whatever) and put a tiny needle in it, which honestly, I didn’t feel at all. She then asked me to point my foot again and asked me the pain number. It was a zero. There was nothing. Incredible.

She added a few more needles in various places, apparently to knock out my lingering cold and give me a little energy boost. Then, I just laid there in meditation for about 20 minutes. It was lovely in a way that you wouldn’t think meditating while you have needles in you would be.

After 20 minutes, she came back and removed my needles and told me to drink lots of water and then instructed me to not have sex for 24 hours (oh my!) so that my meridians could adjust. I don’t actually know what my meridians are, but apparently hanky panky can jostle them out of place.

I floated out of the room with this deep sense of balance and calm. I felt like I’d just had a 90 minute massage. Within a few days my ankle was 100% better and it has stayed that way ever since.

I am totally sold on this thing that I don’t understand at all. I know there is science and research to back it all up but I can’t explain any of it to you. All I know is it worked and I am truly grateful. And it was totally worth 24 hours of abstinence.

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Remembering the first time

Tags

acceptance, beginner, Bikram yoga, health

I was in the bathroom after class, pressing my face and body against the cool metal wall of the stall – wishing I would just throw up and then die and get it over with.

That is my most vivid memory of my first Bikram class.

I always love hearing about people’s first experiences with Bikram. It’s like hearing about how a couple first met. Some people take to it immediately. Others not-so-much. I was a not-so-much person.

I don’t like extreme things. I don’t respond to tough love. I hate the heat, I hate saunas, I hate sweat.

On the surface, there is no reason I should love Bikram.

But I do. A lot.

However, the early part of our relationship was rocky.

When I walked in to the hot room for the first time, I remember thinking that I couldn’t spend five minutes in a room that hot. This was ridiculous. This had to be dangerous.

I sat out many, many postures. Can’t remember how many because I think I was blacking out.

Halfway through, I noticed that I couldn’t hear anything. The teacher was talking like one of those teachers from Charlie Brown, all I heard was blood rushing through my ears. Trying to figure out my left from my right felt like deciphering the Rosetta Stone. Lying on my back felt like running a marathon.

When class ended, I wanted to cry the way you do when you realize things might be alright after all. I had survived.

I walked out of the studio and decided Bikram yoga people were all nuts; like the people who get a kick out of doing those army-like obstacle courses, covered in slimy mud.

But on the Bikram yoga studio website it said you should do three classes before you judge. Being an avid rule follower, I dragged my still-aching body back to the studio three days later. The second class was a little better and the third class felt like an IV of joy pumped directly into my soul.

I was hooked.

Three years later, that studio feels like second home. It is the place where I get amazing support. It is the place where I detox, renew and connect.

It’s where I go to feel better, to heal my stiff body, clear my wandering mind and calm my anxious heart. Yes, it’s still a place where I work hard, but not so hard that I disconnect. I work so hard that I finally feel everything and I finally stop running away from life.

So, it’s a good reminder for me not to judge anything too quickly. Who knows where something might lead? I never would have guessed that place where I was pressing my face against a bathroom stall would end up being where I go to celebrate this body, this moment and this life.

How was your first class?

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Just unroll your mat: thoughts on motivation

Tags

Bikram yoga, health, motivation, resolutions

This time of year, everyone is making resolutions and promises and trying to be improved versions of themselves.

I was talking to my dad recently about motivation and he was telling me that he just doesn’t get excited about working out.

He was shocked that I could relate.

“You don’t love going to yoga?” He asked me.

I love having gone to yoga. I love it when it’s done. The majority of the time, when it’s time to go to class, I’d much rather stay home and lie around on the couch.

We have this idea that the rest of the world jumps out of bed with an enthusiastic vigor, dying to go to yoga/Zumba/the gym/whatever. We think there is something defective about us if we are not that way.

I suppose there are those nutty people who are hardwired with that kind of pep, but most of us don’t fall into that category. I certainly don’t. Luckily, we don’t have to.

Because we all brush our teeth.

Oral hygiene in itself is not a thrilling activity. It’s not something I normally look forward to or get excited about. But when I’m done and my mouth is all minty and clean, it feels good. And what’s more – when I don’t brush, my life gets unpleasant very quickly. I do it because when I don’t do it, things fall apart.

I see yoga (and meditation) that way. Sure, there are days where I am dying to get in the hot room and each posture is a joy. But usually, the motivation is in the knowledge of what it’s doing for me in the long haul. I have seen the proof that it makes my life and my health (mental and physical) better in a myriad of ways.

So, don’t worry if you are not the cheerleader who is jonesing for the adrenalin hit. You are just like the rest of us.

But get your ass on the mat, anyway, because that final savasana is going to be awesome.

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Letting go even applies to yoga

Tags

ahimsa, Bikram yoga, community, health, pranayama

When I was nineteen, I had this boyfriend. I was obsessed with him. On the rare occasions that we weren’t together, I was talking about him ad nauseam. I dropped all my friends and most of my life to be with him. I clung so tightly. The desperation made me feel miserable and made him feel trapped. It was totally unhealthy and it ended poorly.

I used to cling to yoga this way. When I say “used to” I mean…like…a month ago.

I’ve been on a forced yoga hiatus and I have to say, it’s been wonderful for me.

The reason I clung so tightly – to both the boyfriend and the yoga – was that I didn’t trust that they would always really be there for me. I worried that they would reject me, or maybe I would be the one to get bored and need something new. I was hanging on for dear life in an attempt to keep things status quo.

But it seems that I’ve grown up a little and learned some things. Things like:

“You only lose what you cling to.” ~Buddha

This break from Bikram class has allowed me to step back and create a more healthy relationship with yoga. There is no need to cling. I can hold it softly, lightly, without crushing it. I can take a break without threatening the survival of my yoga.

It is intertwined into every part of my life, it is a part of me and always will be. There is no need to prove to anyone that I’m a yogi – I don’t even need to prove it to myself. I can trust it. I can relax.

Because yoga is about so much more than just asana practice. It is the way I live my life. It’s the 8 Limbs. It’s pranayama and ahimsa and meditation. It’s what I choose to eat and the way I choose to see the world. It’s all yoga.

I’m glad to be back to the asana practice after my hiatus. I missed it and I missed my yogi community. Walking into that hot room after 3 weeks away felt like a big giant hug. My practice is not as strong as it was before I took the break but that doesn’t bother me in the slightest. My relationship with the yoga is different. It’s deeper. More settled. There is a stillness and a security that is new. This is no fling; we’re in it for the long haul.

For richer or poorer.

In sickness and in health.

Until death do us part.

———————————————-

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The Dalai Lama, compassion and my ankle

Tags

acceptance, Buddhism, Dalai Lama, intelligent selfishness, judgement, yoga

Last week, I had the chance to see His Holiness the Dalai Lama speak at an event. It was wonderful. His topic was “Beyond Religion: Ethics for a Whole World.” Just being in the presence of someone like that is perception-altering.

I’d like to think that I’m a fairly compassionate person, but the Dalai Lama’s emphasis on compassion towards others as the path to not only a more peaceful world, but a happier and more peaceful heart, really got to me. Buddhists refer to it as “intelligent selfishness.”

“Whether or not our kindness brings benefit to others will depend on a great many factors, some of which will be outside our control. But whether we succeed in bringing benefit to others or not, the first beneficiary of compassion is always oneself. When compassion, or warmheartedness, arises in us and shifts our focus away from our own narrow self-interest, it is as if we open an inner door.”

–Beyond Religion by His Holiness the Dalai Lama

I’ve been trying to practice compassion in even deeper ways.

Compassion in the yoga studio is something I want to work on. I struggle with getting frustrated with the yogi who is flopping around, or the newbie who is getting defiant and mad at the teacher. I try to remember that we are all dealing with our own demons in there, but sometimes it’s all I can do to not yell “This is a peaceful place and I’m trying to meditate and be one with the universe, so shut the fuck up!”

Compassion fail.

So clearly that needs some work, but what also deserves some attention is my level of compassion for myself.

My ankle has been bothering me lately. I don’t know what I did to it. I put ice or heat on it – it still hurts. I do lots of yoga or no yoga – it still hurts. I put it up or massage it – it still hurts. My ankle is just tender and there is nothing that seems to make it any better or worse. It just is. It just needs time.

But I catch myself glaring at this ankle. Rolling my eyes at it when those shooting pains come and cursing it when it doesn’t behave like it used to.

This is no way to treat an ankle that has done nothing wrong for the past 33 years.

So, I’m trying a new route of uber-compassion for others, for myself and for my ankle. I’m doing my best to withhold judgment. I’m seeing what it’s like to just flood my world with understanding, patience and gratitude for whatever might come. Bring it on, and I will do my best to welcome it with open arms.

So far, it feels really good. His Holiness might just be on to something here.

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