Backbending in 2014: New year’s eve yoga

Ridiculous sparkly Buddha wishes you a happy new year!

Ridiculous sparkly Buddha wishes you a happy new year!

Happy 2014, yogis!

I hope you were able to peacefully close out last year and are feeling ready for all the good stuff that is to come.

Since I’m a classic introvert, I’m really not into big parties. Just seeing the Times Square ball-drop insanity gives me heart palpitations. Our usual December 31st appointment with sweatpants, the couch and a bottle of Champagne suits us just fine.

But, we did something a little different to celebrate this time around – Husband and I spent new years in the hot room! We attended a special class that started at 10:45 pm. Our teacher practiced with us and played music in place of the dialogue. We welcomed the new year in savasana.

It was blissful.

There was no pressure to drink or be loud or wear high heels. We got to be with friends, doing something we love, setting a healthy, peaceful intention for this new beginning.

In hindsight, I don’t know why we’d do anything else for new years, but at about 10 pm, I totally didn’t want to go.

I was nervous about going out. Our studio is located downtown and I was intimidated by the mere thought of drunken drivers and overly-enthusiastic partiers. That kind of chaos is the perfect storm for my anxiety and it made me want to throw the covers over my head.

But I had heard other yogis talking about this special class and how it was such a beautiful start to the year. I knew we needed to try it. So, we packed up our water bottles and dragged ourselves out of the house, leaving as few claw marks on the door frame as possible.

About 40 other folks came to sweat in the new year, a couple of brave souls were there for their very first class! The classical music our teacher played was such a nice change. Us Bikram yogis are not used to hearing music during yoga, but I found that I was able to just get lost in it. Having something else to engage my senses other than the dialogue brought a different dimension to class. (Since then, I’ve added some music to my home practice, and I’m loving that. I just prefer to totally hippie-out with some Jai Utal instead of classical.)

Our teacher counted down to midnight while we were in savasana and the air filled with this blissed out celebration. We were all bathed in gratitude for a fresh new year of opportunities.

After all the sweaty hugging of fellow yogis, we were ready to go home and wish the dog a happy new year. When we emerged from the studio at 12:30 am – much to my surprise – the world was so beautiful. Downtown was alive with flashing lights and and thumping music. The streets were full of joyful people embracing each other and rows of taxis transporting the tipsy.

I found I was able to enjoy the chaos and not feel overwhelmed. And that is what yoga always does for me. It enables me to take a step back, take a moment and put some space between me and the rest of the world. I can enjoy the inner stillness and smile at the craziness, without feeling dragged into the middle of it.

I’m sure that as the year wears on, life will creep in and I will get flustered and wrapped up in nonsense. But the fact that I started 2014 with this deep sense of presence and calm makes me hope I can find it more often this year.

And it made the satisfaction of going home and putting on sweatpants even sweeter.

I wish you all a year full of peace, love and backbends!

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I can’t do everything

(I posted this yesterday on my other blog, but since it deals with that pesky concept of suffering – something that mindful/yogi/Buddhist types generally spend some time thinking about – I thought it might be appropriate here. I hope you enjoy it, and happy holidays, yogis! Here’s to another year of backbending!!)

I’ve always been one of those people who gets overwhelmed by the world.

I think my emotional nature is a left-over occupational hazard from being an actor during my formative years. For 18 years I needed to be able to cry on cue, and it seems those floodgates just never closed. Suffering of any kind leaves me weak in the knees and injustice makes me feel like clawing my skin off.

I still have a touch of the drama, apparently.

But I realized that I can’t just shut my eyes to the suffering in the world. I tried putting my hands over my ears and singing until it went away. That didn’t work. So, instead of crying about it, I’ve decided there might be a little something I can do. But what? And how do I handle the fact that I can’t fix everything? How do I save the whales and cure hunger and stop global warming? I’m one small person so how do I make a dent? How do I pick just one thing in this sea of need? It’s useless, right?

But then I read this:

I am only one,
But still I am one.
I cannot do everything,
But still I can do something;
And because I cannot do everything,
I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

– Edward Everett Hale

Hells yes, Mr. Hale.

I started volunteering at my local non-kill animal shelter. Which happens to be the place where we met our darling girl, Grace. I figure that I owe them, big time.


So, I cuddle cats and clean litter boxes and let puppies chew on my fingers. I address thank you notes and fill out donation forms. I thought it would be too sad to work in a shelter. It’s not. It’s joyful. Even the photocopying is joyful. And it is one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done. They are short-staffed during the holidays, so I’ll be there to try to fill in the gaps.

The other day, I was opening up their mail and organizing the checks that came in. When donations arrived for $200 or $300, my heart leapt. That would buy so many treats! New beds! Pay for more surgeries!

But when I opened the checks for $5. That’s when I lost my shit. That’s when I cried.

Because those people understand so much better than I do that even a little bit helps. Those people, regardless of their financial situation, made the decision to do what they can and speak up for what they believe in.

I want to hug every one of them. Because they remind me of something that I don’t want to ever forget. It’s good to have empathy, but it’s not so good when I drown in it and apathetically throw up my hands in defeat. The whole point of life is to wake up and do something meaningful. Make the moment count.

I can’t cure cancer and I can’t make sure every animal is in a forever home for Christmas. But I can spend twenty minutes talking to the new scared kitten that just came in and encouraging her to eat some food. I can write a note to the man who donated $5 and tell him that his donation meant something. That he means something.

And if I can do that in this season – this season that at its core is about love and giving – that’s all I really need.

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Hippos on the floor


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After a yoga class the other day, a woman went up to our teacher and said,

“I was kind of surprised that you referred to us as hippos. It seemed mean and unlike you.”

Our teacher was horrified. “What? When??”

In floor bow, you said “arms up, legs up, everything up. Only hippos are still on the floor.”

Our teacher smiled and reassured her that she had said “only hip bones are still on the floor. Not hippos.”

And everyone laughed because it was a cute misunderstanding and we went on our way.

But something startling occurred to me. How ready are we to hear something terrible about ourselves? How quick are we to assume the worst and only hear the negative?

I am guilty of this. Give me 100 complements and I’ll only remember the one thing that was not so glowing. That’s the one that will wake me up in the night and leave me cringing and sweating at 2AM.

This is something that I am trying to change. It’s easy to go out of my way to see the best aspects of other people, but when it comes to myself, I tend to be deaf to any praise that might be aimed at me. I’m much more likely to assume someone just called me a hippo.

I love the Three Jewels and it’s part of my daily meditation and gratitude prayers. I especially love this part:

I take refuge in the dharma, the spiritual teachings. I commit myself to the truth as it is.

Because dharma can mean the words of the Buddha and it can also mean the absolutely clear nature of reality. We can make up all kinds of drama to go along with life, we can imagine that he gave me a nasty look or she called me the third largest land mammal on the planet. We can put a negative spin on experiences and get all worked up about them – or we can remove that lens and see the truth as it is.

Acknowledge, accept and then let it go.

It’s a choice.

And when I’m being mindful, I chose that joyful surrender to the truth. It’s way better than being called a hippo.


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Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end


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bikram sign

My yoga studio is moving to a new location.

It’s just a few blocks from the current place, but many of us students seem to be dealing with this like stereotypical Bikram yogis. The change is freaking us out. We love our same 26 postures and setting up in the same spot in the hot room. Although we are learning flexibility, when it comes to changing up our studio space, we are getting slightly bent out of shape.

We are also excited for a new adventure. An adventure with nicer showers.

But first, we must say goodbye to our old place, and for some of us, that is proving difficult.

The old place is where I wandered in one day, not knowing a thing about Bikram yoga. It’s a place that I came to rely on to fix my aching body and screw-loose brain. It’s where I made wonderful friends and did poses I never thought were possible for my clumsy, 30-something body. It’s where I went on my birthday, on the anniversary of the day I broke my back, on the day that my dog passed away. I went and cried and healed and then finally, I laughed.

It is sweaty, hallowed ground.

So, I’m having a hard time letting go (admits the yogi-in-progress).

Of course the new space will be wonderful. It will become the place where new things happen. There will be new experiences in the hot room and deepening friendships on the benches after class. But at first, I will walk into the studio like a person entering a random party, looking for anything familiar and wondering where the bathroom is. We will be strangers, that place and I.

Our brilliant studio owner, Lizzie, put a vase on the front desk at the current studio. The sign says if there is something – some energy, some feeling – that we want to come with us to the new studio, we should write it on a piece of paper and put it in the vase. This vessel will travel with us, with all the good wishes inside, to the new studio where it will not be opened.

I tried to figure out what to say to this vase. How do I express all of my hopes for this next phase of my practice and my life? How do I capture all that gratitude on a Sticky Note?

I was having a hard time putting it into words (admits the writer-in-progress).

So, I wrote:

Peace, love and acceptance – for myself and everyone else. Thank you for everything.

As I wrote it, a tear slipped from my eye, wrinkling the paper and smudging the ink. My message is so incomplete…but in a way, anything would be. So, I accepted the imperfectness of my words and placed the note in the vase.

I’ll be there for the last class at the current studio. I’ll be there for the first class at the new studio. I’ll figure out where I like to leave my shoes and where the hot spots are. I’ll open my heart and introduce myself to this next part of the path.


(*Yes. I totally quoted Semisonic in the title of this post.)

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My life without yoga


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A little while ago, I bought a Living Social deal for Pure Barre. I’ve gone 7 times now and like it. I just don’t love it. I like feeling a little like a ballerina (since I am so far from one) and I like the fact that it works some muscles that yoga doesn’t get to. I know this for a fact, because after my first class I was limping around for 2 days.

But, for me at least, it’s no yoga.

I get the physical burn, but I don’t get the mental cleanse that I get from the hot room. Maybe some people do get that from Barre, but I never felt it. This was a good reminder that for me – yoga really is special.

It makes me think back to my pre-yoga existence.

In the summer of 2009, I wandered into a Bikram yoga studio with no idea what to expect. I’d done yoga before, but I’d never had a serious practice. It was mostly just a couple of Rodney Yee tapes (yes, actual VHS tapes) that I’d dust off once in a while.

I’d been a meditator for a couple of years, so it seemed to make sense that I would try out yoga. A friend had heard great things about our local Bikram studio and she thought I might like it.

I will forever be indebted to Rachel for this suggestion.

I had just come home from a month of studying at Oxford and it wasn’t all I expected it to be. I felt mildly depressed and mildly fat. I don’t mean to jump on the bandwagon and bash the Brits for their food, but let’s just say the vegetarian-on-a-budget experience was not great.

I needed to get my life back on track. I figured yoga couldn’t hurt.

Now, thinking about life without yoga is just crazy. If I didn’t do yoga, my life would be totally different.

~ I wouldn’t have the support of such a wonderful yogi community.

~ I wouldn’t eat such healthy foods.

~ I wouldn’t have such deep and healing meditations.

~ I would not sleep as well.

~ I would not be as strong, mentally, physical, spiritually.

 ~ I would still have panic attacks.

 ~ I would not have such a strong connection with my husband.

 ~ I would be less comfortable with my body.

~ I would be shorter. (Seriously, I grew an inch.)

~ I would not have had the experience of doing yoga in a foreign country.

~ I would struggle more with depression.

~ I would have continuing back problems from my injury.

So, yeah, some days it’s hard to get myself to the studio. Some days it feels extra hot and humid and the yoga truck runs me over. Some days I feel stiff and my backbend is not as pretty as I want it to be. Some days I just want to sit on the couch and watch re-runs of Top Chef.

But when I look at it all cumulatively, the only logical thing to do is to go put on those tiny shorts.


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New post at Elephant Journal: Learning to be still


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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.



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I love gratitude and I love lists


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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: 






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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Show and tell

Hello, yogis!

So, you might have noticed that I’ve been writing here a little less than normal lately. I’ve been busy working on another project that I’ve mentioned here before – my book.

It deals with something that I don’t talk about on this blog – or in real life, for that matter – my life growing up as an actor. I started working at age four and retired from the film industry at age 22. I realized that I was no longer passionate about my job and got tired of just being “that girl from Mrs. Doubtfire/Independence Day/Matinee.”

I decided that rather than becoming a stereotypical flame-out of a child actor, I would leave LA, move across the country with my boyfriend (who you now know as “Husband”) and try to carve out a more authentic path for myself. It was a difficult – and unpopular – decision, but it was the best one I ever made. I wanted a life that felt truthful, not just one that looked good a glossy magazine cover. I needed to figure out who I wanted to be when I grew up.

Turns out, I wanted to be a yogi.

But I also wanted to be a writer. So, I’ve been working on my memoir, a blog for the book, as well as starting my new gig as a contributing writer for HelloGiggles. I have a literary agent and we are working on edits now.

I will still be here, posting about mindfulness and back-bending, but since I might be here a little less often, I wanted to also let you in on what else was going on in my life.

JustHereJustNow now has the most wonderful readers that I could ever have hoped for. It is no exaggeration to say that without the kindness and support that I have received from all of you here – I never would have been brave enough to write a book.

So, thank you. You truly were integral to this whole process, and that’s why I wanted to share it with you.

And thank you for continuing to read and engage, even though my attentions are a little divided at the moment. But I promise to always be back here, talking about joy and sweat and why I will always love Standing Bow.

If you would like to be kept up to date on the progress of the book and musings from my former life, check out the blog – today’s post was about authenticity, so my yoga roots are still very much intact! Please also join me on Facebook or Twitter.

Namaste, y’all!

Standing bow – everywhere

Standing Bow posture is my Flat Stanley.

I always do standing bow whenever we travel somewhere, but I never really thought about why. We were in Rockport, Massachusetts for a wedding two weeks ago, and as I got into standing bow, I started wondering why I was really doing it.

Sure, it’s more interesting than just standing there for a photo, but the bows never look very impressive. I’m not warmed up, I’m usually wearing jeans and I’ve often just eaten something smothered in cheese.

But, I recently realized that my collection of standing bow photos are really significant to me. It’s not just about doing something fancy while dodging the bizarre stares from by-standers – it’s the acknowledgement that I take yoga everywhere. Wherever I go, I try to maintain the mindfulness and balance that I strive for in the hot room.

Even when I am eating an absurd amount of gelato and haven’t done a backbend for a week – those yogic values of truth, presence and peace are still in the forefront of my life.

Those priorities follow me on a 19-hour plane flight to the other side of the world. They follow me through time zones and long layovers and into safari trucks through the most remote terrain I’ve ever seen. They follow me through too many beachy cocktails in North Carolina and over a freezing cold bridge in Prague just before Christmas.

And then, when I come back to the hot room, I proudly bring those traveling bows with me. I bring all those crooked, not warmed up, imperfect bow poses back to my home studio. I bring them home, along with all the other transformational travel experiences, and I breathe them in deeply, then I let it out slow.

And I’m grateful for every single one of them.

In Rockport, Massachusetts

At the Colosseum in Rome, Italy

In Tulum, Mexico

In Carolina Beach, North Carolina

On safari in South Africa

At Bass Lake, California

At the John Lennon Peace Wall in Prague, Czech republic

(Many thanks to Husband for participating in these yoga photo shoots all over the world. Even more thanks for ignoring all those photos in which I am falling out of standing bow- and which you, dear reader, will only ever see one of.)

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Summer suffering


It happens every.damn.summer.

Bikram yoga decides it hates me.

It decides that I am inflexible and weak. I have no sense of balance. I have zero stamina and the lung capacity of a squirrel. It decides that I need to just slog through each posture and have no hope of working on it or improving it or even enjoying it. None.

I should remember that this happened last summer and the year before and the two years before that. But I don’t – I forget and think that my practice is lost forever. Some years I take a break from yoga, others, I soldier on, either away doesn’t make much difference. There are several weeks of classes that just suck.

And yes, it’s the change of seasons, the allergens, the humid southern summers. But who cares? When my practice is off, I feel off. Thus, I pout.

In class the other day, there was one set of standing bow that I at least was able to hold for the full time. It was not a perfect pose…but it was sort of okay. As I came out of the posture, I caught the eye of a woman who was there for her first class. She had been watching me, since she was taking a little break. I saw her raise her eyebrows and mouth the word “wow” to herself.

I wanted to rush over to her mat and explain that she was mistaken. That it was not a wow-worthy posture. I had wobbled and my chin should have been closer to my shoulder and my knee came unlocked that one time. I could have done it better. I should have done it better.

But then I realized: I really don’t want to be that girl.

It’s miserable being that ungrateful, nothing-is-ever-good-enough girl.

So, I changed my mind and thought, wow. Fuck yeah – wow.

It’s amazing that I can even do this yoga. It’s a gift that I can have my crappy practice. It’s a miracle that my body does what I ask of it, most of the time.

You are so right, newbie. Thanks for reminding me of the wow.

In all likelihood, I’m going to have several more weeks of challenging classes. They will leave me feeling exhausted, uncoordinated and longing for those inspiring, invigorating classes I had back in April.

But at least I got my wow back.

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