That pesky “what if”

Ah, the long break from writing always kills me just a smidgen. But instead of procrastinating even more, here I go:

“Something’s bound to go wrong..” (Don’t Worry, Baby, The Beach Boys)

How often are we victims of self-fulfilling prophecies? I spend so much time worrying about the “what if” and all it does is get me into trouble. Without realizing it, I only end up hurting myself and those around me as my walls come up, keeping those I love at bay.

So in my “What if everything falls apart” phase, all I did was the following: argue, cry, skip meditation, and drink too much wine. That was obviously the best option, right?

We do this all the time. Self-preservation begets pain. We think we’re protecting ourselves from heartache, when we block the positive energy and actions around us from getting in as much as we avoid the negative.

That’s not to say we need to let EVERYTHING in; actually, I don’t mean that in the slightest. As I’ve been getting back into meditation and my trust little sidekick, Meditations from the Mat, by Rolf Gates, I am continually brought back to the Eight-Limbed Path of Yoga, which discusses yamas and niyamas, or basic guidelines for humans in their journey toward Samadhi, or enlightenment. (I know I’ve touched on this in previous posts as well.)

Recently the focus has been on brahmacarya, or moderation, and it is moving toward aparigraha, or non-attachment.

I 100% struggle with attachment. To people, to animals, to results, to expectations, to cars, you name it. It comes with the territory of loving everything all the time every day. While loving things is a great quality, I end up getting too attached; i.e. allowing disappointments, loss, etc, to affect my mood.

I want to offer a cure-all success story, but it would be false. I am learning to let go of what no longer serves me. I am learning to live in the present moment. I am learning to just be, not looking for results, or returned affection, but simply live.

I’m not great at it. But all I can do is focus on this very moment. “The prize is in the process”, says Baron Baptiste. If I’m not here for the process, how will I get my prize?

If you have any questions regarding yamas, niyamas, yoga, meditation, or you just want to talk, please comment! I would love to hear from those of you who took the time out of your day to read this post. Namaste, loved ones.

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Bring it on, 2015!

As most people do, I’ve spent a large portion of the last week reviewing the past year: the love, the pain, the lessons. This morning I looked at last year’s blog I wrote and somewhat chuckled, quite honestly. It’s amazing to me what a year can do.

For the first time, I’m setting some real resolutions; realistic yet hopeful goals for my 2015. If I feel like I’ve made such strides since last year, why wouldn’t I hope for the same in the next? Anyhow, I wrote them down last night and wanted to share a few:

1) Meditate daily (I bought Meditations from the Mat to guide me through the year, I’m too excited to start so I won’t wait til the 1st!)

2) Offer kind words or a gift to someone daily.

3) Do some form of cardio thrice weekly.

This is only a partial list, but I noticed that each of these benefits different aspects of my life: spirituality, others, physical being. In order to hope for a more well-rounded year in which I stay present, I have to plan for it! So I want to make sure I make goals for myself, my body, my mind, and of course, goals to serve and love others better.

Last night I meditated for a little bit, and I ended up using a made up mantra that I had pieced together from a few sentences I had seen:

Demonstrate love, which has no boundary.

I wish I had a deeper understanding of this mantra, maybe I’ll find it in the next chapter of my life. What mantras have found their way into your meditation? What resolutions are you excited for in 2015?

Namaste, readers. Hope to hear from you!

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What to leave, what to take…

I’ve spent far too much time away from my love of writing. Fear, insecurity, doubt: there are plenty of excuses keeping me from this blog. But no matter! Here we go.

As the year draws to a close, most of us are reflecting on it and hoping for great experiences in the next, right? Last Friday I had an incredible opportunity to go to a workshop at my yoga studio called Let It Go 2014. While the majority of the time was spent practicing, we spent a portion meditating and journaling about the things we expect of 2015.

First, my teacher guided us, we were to write on one page of our journals what we hoped to manifest or change from 2014, that is, what we hoped to take into the new year and develop toward a deeper purpose. Then, on a separate page, we wrote what we meant to release from 2014, the things that no longer serve us, whether they be sentiments, relationships, habits… Then we ripped the “release” page and handed them in. I kept wondering… Will she burn those? She had no clue to whom each page belonged, so anonymity was not an issue, but a part of me didn’t want to share the things I hope to release.

Mid-practice, it hit me: If I’m TRULY going to release it, who cares what happens to that paper?

Letting go is not an easy feat. We speak of it often, reminding each other to “just let it go”, as though we’ve reached this stage of wisdom and understanding, whilst cloaked in pretension. (I’m quite aware of my use of “whilst” in that pretentious sentence.)

Meanwhile, our own practice of letting go is often lacking. Even of the little things, like what someone else chooses to do with my “release” page, which is really just trash.

So while this year pressed and pulled me into far too many directions, I am thankful for this: I am beginning a journey of learning to let go. Of learning to legitimately move forward. Of manifesting the beauty and gifts I’ve been blessed with in my time on Earth.

In my classes lately, I often tell my students– in hopes of reminding my own person– to be thankful for the strengths and limitations of their bodies and their minds, along with the opportunities to grow. Whatever or Whomever you believe in, a Higher Power offers us endless chances to learn. To let go of what no longer serves us in order to reach our full potential.

What are you taking into 2015? What will you choose to leave behind? Wherever you are in your journey, share with me! I love to know what’s happening in the lives around me. Namaste, lovely readers.

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This picture is of the site of my accident last April… It serves as a reminder as to who I was and who
I have become, as well as an inspiration to continue!

❤️

Joy and Suffering

This last month has been somewhat strenuous for me. Lost a job. Lost friends. Rejection after rejection. But a few days ago, I saw a quote that we are not to view these happenings as rejections, but redirections towards something better. I’d rather stick with that sentiment.

Also in this last month, two influential men passed away: Robin Williams and BKS Iyengar. One brought laughter and joy to my childhood; the other gave me wisdom and hope as an adult. As I reread Iyengar’s Light on Life, I find it interesting how it helps me cope with the loss of both their lives.

While discussing the Physical Body in terms of yoga, Iyengar thoroughly explains the necessity of pain in order for growth. “We do not do yoga just for enjoyment; we do it for ultimate emancipation. Most people want to take joy without suffering. I will take both. See how far suffering takes me.”

What an interesting sentiment that we often avoid. Considering the racial unrest in Missouri (well, across the World, really) and political climate, there are countless examples of suffering on this planet that we as humans avoid. I won’t lie; I don’t like reading the news on a daily basis simply because I hate hearing about the constant pain and suffering in every corner. But there are times when we had to face the pain, as it how “we learn to act, to live, to grow”, as Iyengar states. “We all have presence of mind when everything goes well, but we need to have presence of mind when something goes wrong.”

Back to Mr. Williams. At this point, it’s common knowledge that he was recently diagnosed with Parkinson’s, likely becoming the reason he chose to end his life. It seems as though the world was much more comfortable with that explanation than if he had died of depression, which quite honestly, astounds me. Those who have read my earlier posts will know that I was diagnosed with depression over 6 years ago, and I made a decision to end my life a year ago that thankfully, was foiled by my will to live. That doesn’t mean I’m cured. It doesn’t mean I don’t have days when everything goes well; the sun shines, there’s no traffic, my family and friends love me and no one is grumbling– and I still come home wishing I were dead. That this world would legitimately function better if I didn’t exist.

I am NOT advocating suicide in the slightest, nor am I expressing that it is a selfless act; it is quite selfish and leaves those behind with greater pain and frustration while you are, free, really.

I am, however, trying to explain that depression isn’t logical. It’s not something I can magically turn off. I wish I could go through life feeling “normal”, with bad days that don’t cause me to crave physical pain or death because I don’t know what else to do. I long for the day that I can comfortably come off my antidepressants and be able to fully work through my “episodes” of self-loathing. But it doesn’t work that way. My brain DOES NOT work like everyone else’s. I would give almost anything to let it be “normal”— but like Iyengar, after having seen the pain, I think I would rather have both joy and suffering. I learn more from pain. I can be compassionate towards others with the same brain as myself. So when I initially hear that this great actor, comedian, and human took his life, my first reaction is not to say he is selfish. I was sad because I know how he felt. I was sad thinking of his family who perhaps thought they could have saved him.

I didn’t know Robin Williams and won’t ever know EXACTLY why he took his life; I can only assume he viewed it as the only option. I’ve been there. If you haven’t, it isn’t fair to judge. I agree that sometimes people use depression as an excuse for attention, teen angst, what have you, but that is not my place to judge. I don’t have a terrible life; I have a roof over my head, a family who loves me as best they can…. I am blessed. But I am also depressed. I deal with it daily. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I hate seeing how it affects those who love me, and I use them as a means to keep fighting.

This quote that kept going around right after RW died resonates with me: “I used to think the worst thing in life was to end up all alone, it’s not. The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel all alone.”

I’ve been there. Invisible in a crowd, in a room with only one other. My only critique, or what I’ve been learning, is that no one can make you feel anything. It comes from within. You must surround yourself with the people who know you and care, obviously. But they’re still human. You have to push through that pain of isolation. I am deeply saddened that Robin Williams didn’t feel he could any longer. It hurts me to think about another human suffering in that way. Through that pain, I will learn. I will remain steadfast in my journey to fight through depression. Use yoga to discover the peace within.

I am thankful that I was able to know of and study the lives of both Robin Williams and BKS Iyengar; they have impacted my understanding of myself and the world. Namaste, gentleman. Rest your weary souls.

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For a little further reading:

http://mobile.nytimes.com/blogs/well/2014/08/20/what-is-so-special-about-iyengar-yoga/

http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-15007/10-life-lessons-i-learned-from-b-k-s-iyengar.html

Bloody Mary’s and Books on a Sunday Afternoon

Every so often I’m reminded of lyrics that stand out to me— they might not come from a lyrical genius, or a group that stands above the rest, but it’s almost as though the one-liners from the less phenomenal bands mean more to me.

For example, there is a Coldplay lyric that kills me every time I hear it: “Am I part of the cure, or am I part of the disease?”

Yes, I’m aware that thousands of people dislike this band– get over it.

How often we complain about things that are unfair, the people who hurt us, the discrimination and violence that surrounds humanity, but how often are we doing something against it?

This doesn’t have to be on some grand scale— you might not need to sell all your possessions to feed the poor, although if you feel the need, how lovely. You’re braver than I. But let’s just talk about something smaller for a moment: friendship. How many times have you been hurt by your friends? How many times have you hurt your friends? We can all agree we would rather avoid answering BOTH of those questions.

Another lyric, “Shower the people you love with love”, always helps me when I’m trying to forgive those who have wronged me. But forgiveness, as difficult as it may be, isn’t enough. We can’t stop at that. We have to learn– not only about how WE were hurt– but how we might prevent hurting someone in that same way. Cure the seemingly never-ending cycle of miscommunication, lashing out in frustration, and insecurities that haunt us all.

I’ve been challenged by this notion far too much lately: I lost two friends for different reasons in the last month, and while I want to blame every pain I feel on their actions, I have to inspect the likely possibility that I was a part of the disease that ended our friendship.

Here’s where I hit my major dilemma: I do a post-mortem analysis and still have to move on, right? Not be stuck in my hurts or theirs, but simply move forward in my learning. I am, however, a chronic over thinker. Quite possibly the worst thing about me, it permeates my relationships and agitates all parties involved. So I can think about what I might have done differently, if only she had said this , or he had done that, but the acknowledgement of the disease is not the cure. There has to be a following step.

I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned BKS Iyengar’s book Light on Life before in this blog, potentially more than once. He has an incredible analogy about the ripples in a pond relating to our reactions to pain. There are two “hits”, the first being the initial drop on the surface and the following ripple. Then as the ripple reaches the bottom, it ricochets back to the top based on whatever shape the bank is in. If there is more sand built up, the surface will ripple a second time.

So let’s say you harbor pain from a relationship, an interaction, or anything like that. You’ve now added sand to your bank. So the next time someone says or does something that reminds you of the initial ripple–which possibly took place years ago–you will have the initial reaction and then feel it a second time. Maybe I’m not explaining this quite well enough, but this idea sticks with me. We cannot let sand build up over time so we continuously feel the ripples. That’s no way to live. It hinders us from loving.

We live in a world of constant diagnosis. WebMD. Psychiatrists. Pharmaceutical companies telling us we NEED this drug or that. Maybe there are legitimate issues, yes. But we have to cure them. Fight the buildup of the sand bank. Forgive and LEARN. Left, right, left. Feel the hurts, aches, diseases completely and then move on. And learn to love those around us better in the process.

Again, thank you for taking the time to read, loved ones. As always, I would be thrilled to hear from you!

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