There is a fable about six blind men who are introduced to an elephant. Each man touches a different part of the elephant and based on that, thinks he knows what it looks like. The man who touches the ear is certain that the animal is like a hand fan. The one who touches the tail proclaims that it looks like a rope. And so it goes with each of the six men having a totally different experience and descriptions of the same thing.
Like the blind men, most yoga teachers, myself included, err on the side of teaching only from their own body and perspective. If we continue teaching over a long period of time, our own physical experience will change. We might shift to another part of the elephant and start teaching from an entirely different point of view.
For 2 ½ decades I have been intensively studying alignment-based methods of Hatha Yoga so that I might understand the bodies of my students and better assist them with their own practice. What keeps me passionate in this work is constantly finding that there is still so much more to learn.
Recently I have had some challenges with one of my shoulders. Injury has always been a great teacher for me, helping me broaden my awareness. With my understanding of anatomy and alignment, and guidance from the specialists I have seen, I have been able to work constructively with this recent pain and have had some great new insights for helping others. Dealing with pain forces us to pursue new directions and it is in the midst of working with it that we find our most profound growth.
With every passing year, I am even more grateful for my practice. Like the blind men in the story, I used to see yoga from only my vantage point. In having its way with me, Yoga has opened my eyes moment by moment to a broader understanding physically, emotionally and spiritually. I hope to see you on the mat soon so we can continue our ever evolving journeys together.
Mother’s Day is a bittersweet celebration of motherhood for me. It is a celebration of the life I brought into this world, and a reminder of the life that was taken from it. When we fall under the spell of motherhood, we are so elated by the idea of this life we are going to bring into the world – this external representation of ourselves. We do not think about how fragile life truly is, how quickly it can be taken from us. Instead, we dream about it – ‘Will he have my smile? My husband’s laugh? Will she be smart and clever, kind and caring?’
We build space for this creation in our own lives. We transform a room in a house, complete with bassinet, rocking/feeding chair, baby monitor, and nightlight, and softly colored walls and linens. We create time that right now is filled with naps and morning sickness but will soon be filled with diapers and middle of the night feedings, and a little later, tying shoes and kissing skinned knees. We create space in our hearts for this little person that is going to fill every square inch and then he will grow and change and force us to keep making the space bigger for him or her.
Children teach us how to love unconditionally, an almost foreign concept in our society. This very unique way of loving another person is easier between parent and child because they are an extension of us. We learn to care for someone else and put his or her needs ahead of our own. They teach us patience. They keep us aware, awake and responsible. They challenge us and push us to our limits and teach us that we need to learn to set boundaries. Finally, they teach us how to love fiercely and let go, the hard lesson of non-attachment, though most of us parents remain completely attached for a lifetime to these mini-me people. No matter how old they are, they are our babies.
Logically and chronologically, we start out as their caregivers, teachers and advisors, but in time, the tables turn and it is we who rely on them for guidance and care. Having children results in a thorough transformation of the mind and heart and in most cases, the sacrifices made cannot fully be appreciated until one has a child of their own.
My children taught me how to love with every bit of my heart and then how to surrender control. My son, by leaving the planet at age 20, challenged my faith and my spirit. His untimely and tragic departure forced me to work hard to understand life and death at a higher level. I had to learn how to see him and his sister as separate souls on their own journeys, rather than my creations or my possessions. My daughter continues to teach me to be courageous and have faith in life. To trust the process. She does not live under a cloud of fear, but seizes the opportunity to live her life to the fullest. She suffered deeply at the age of 18 when she lost her 20 year old brother and now, 10 years later, she lives her life in a way that honors him.
I am so grateful for both of my children – grateful for the lessons of how precious life is and that even in our darkest moments, we CAN choose to survive.
Mothers, hold your babies tight and be grateful for THIS moment. Soak it in, drink it up, pull it in to every cell of your body, memorize it as an imprint on your heart. Children, love your parents and forgive them as soon as possible. Learn from their mistakes and hold their misgivings with compassion. If you can find forgiveness and compassion in your heart for them, you will live and die without regret.
Stepping onto a yoga mat for the first time, you quickly learn that if you are going to master this artistic activity, you are going to have to let go – of preconceived notions, the physical limits you set on yourself, the mental limits that keep you from reaching further, and the emotions that you hide or hide behind. Quickly, you learn that you will have to remind yourself to let go every single time you return to your mat.
You might come into yoga shy about your body or intimidated by some of the bodies around you. You might find that you are comparing yourself to other students in the room and feeling less than. Sooner or later, you learn that it feels better to let go of comparing yourself to anyone else in the room.
Every single body has a different story to tell and no one is judging you for yours, except maybe you.
The rest of the class is focused on what’s happening on their own mats, making sure they don’t fall over and crash into their neighbors. They don’t see that your shirt has ridden up and your belly fat is exposed. Negative body image syndrome is rampant in our culture and it is debilitating. If you’re so wrapped up in holding tightly to your negative body image, you will struggle to take chances, weaken yourself, and miss the full experience of doing yoga.
You have to let go of your mental limitations when you’re on your mat. Do you want that bind? That crow pose? Release yourself from the fear-based mindset that asks in doubt, ‘can I?’ and allow yourself the space and confidence of ‘I can’ to flow in. Seemingly impossible tasks can be handled one step at a time. The real reason you cannot bind may just be that you have tightness in your shoulders and upper back which first need to be opened. The truth of why the arm balances are so impossible might be that your core needs strengthening in all of your poses, arm balances just make that point clearer. The bigger the hurdle, the more there is to learn. Each apparent roadblock is actually a gateway towards learning something we need, but we first have to let go of the thought processes that prevent us from recognizing these simpler first steps.
Letting go emotionally is one of the most therapeutic pieces of yoga. As many of you know, yoga played a pivotal role in recapturing my joy following the sudden violent death of my son. When you are feeling grief, sadness, or depression, your mat is one of the safest places to go to release these negative emotions. The intense focus required to balance on one leg in a standing pose or on your hands in an arm balance frees your mind from the ‘chitta vritti’, the unrelenting chatter, for even a moment. You can let go of the negative emotion that seems to shroud your heart and mind, and just be okay for one breath; on your mat, where it is safe, warm, quiet, and where your spirit is nurtured. In the midst of intense emotional pain, you will find your body expressing itself and letting go of what your heart is trying to hold on to so tightly. You would not be the first person to release the tears of emotional grief while lying in savasana; no one around you knows and your instructor will most assuredly understand.
The human body holds onto so much throughout its lifespan. Your muscles have a memory. Cells will hold on to toxins. The mind stores everything. The heart feels pain – and has the capacity for tremendous love. In my many years in yoga, and through my closest relationships, I have learned that it’s possible to let go of that which holds me back from being open to love and joy— the feeling states that humans seek most. I hope you can find a way to let go of whatever is holding you back and open yourself to more love and joy.
October 18th. It marks the anniversary of the death of my son, Brandon, who was age 20 at the time, in 2003. I don’t need the calendar to remember because I never forget.
Yet the day marks time and reminds me that it happened. An unresolved murder case, forever an unsolved mystery.
Nine years later, I look back, as I do every year during this month and many days throughout each year. I can see how my feelings in relation to this deep loss have morphed and changed through the year. Though grief still pays her unannounced visits, they are usually less traumatic now.
At first, grief’s waves hit me like a tsunami. They left me sobbing, shaking and sad to the point of depression. Now they are more like rainshowers or waves that ebb and flow with the tide. Losing someone so close and so dear feels like losing a part of oneself. We are never the same—we are permanently shifted. We know firsthand that even though we are eternal spirits living in human bodies, these human bodies are very fragile.
I miss my son. I wonder what he would be like no, approaching age 30. I cherish my daughter and stay very close to her. In the back corner of mind there is a place where the fear of losing her lurks and peeks out from time to time. And yet I know that worry is wasting precious time possibly attracting future unwanted events.
Here are some of the lessons I have learned:
Lesson 1 If events are going to happen anyway, our worrying does nothing to prevent them from occurring.
Lesson 2 Death is natural, even when it is tragic. Everyone dies. Perhaps not in the order or in the way we would prefer, but then its not up to us. I see now how egotistical it was of me to be angry at Life for flowing as it did, but I am human.
Lesson 3 Empowerment is uplifting and inspiring, victimization is a downer.
From the day I received the news, I decided to focus on how I could see my family in a light other than victimhood. With the aid of wise counsel and patient friends, I came to choose to see my son as a separate soul, not really mine as in “my son”. Separate souls are allowed to come and go freely to and from this plane. It is not up to us to decide. I was able to synch my mind with the understanding that even those who are murdered, like my son, on a soul level, attract that to them as an exit plan for a reason mostly impossible for us humans to understand.
People told me from the beginning that time would eventually help me. It did and yet the event changed me for life in a positive way because I allowed it to.
I now see the preciousness of all my relationships in more vivid technicolor than I ever imagined possible.
I have a deeper appreciation for ordinary days. I am never bored, nor do I see any activity, even sitting in a traffic jam or waiting for a flight delay, as a waste of time. I honor my son by living my life fully and I know he takes great delight in seeing this.
“If your daily life seems of no account, don’t blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its treasures. For the creative artist there is no impoverishment and no worthless place.” ~ Rilke
Special days of remembrance like this anniversary, birthdays or holidays are especially difficult after a deep loss. It’s understandable and pretty much universal. I would have preferred never to celebrate another holiday again after losing Brandon.
However, consider this: what if every single person who ever suffered a deep loss refused to participate in holidays or celebrations? The gatherings would be smaller each year!
I found great comfort in sharing my story because it gave me a connection with so many others who have also learned deep life lessons in this way. Yes, it is a course that on one wants to take, a club that no one wants to join, but after you do, through no choice of your own, you have the opportunity to gain deeper insights that you ever knew were possible. Our sorrow may have been self-chosen at some level of our being to bring about an enlargement of our self. Without struggle we would learn nothing about life.
On Joy and Sorrow (by Kahlil Gibran) Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.And how else can it be?The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, “Joy is greater thar sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.” But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced. When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.
