Hard Times

“One moment, face flat on the ground, reminded me that these hands were made for pushing strings and feeling thunder in my bones. So if lightning strikes me, what did I expect?”

If I pray for anything, I pray that I continue to tremble, that I continue to weep, that I continue to laugh, and that I continue to become inspired.

And I pray the same for every one of you.

Sometimes, when we talk about life, we talk about how hard it is. Trials, tribulations, dangers, toils, and snares. Among the numerous possible responses to these hard times, there are two in particular that crop up quite commonly: falling in love with our problems, or shying away from them.

Both are instances of victimhood. I’ve played both cards on different occasions: “Oh yeah, I went through this terrible trauma. You would never understand, you can’t even begin to dream of comparing your grief to mine,” “I will avoid becoming vulnerable because I might be forced to delve into my supposed issues, which would be painful and challenging. Not that I have any issues. I just mean if I did. You know?”  It’s either too dangerous to confront, so we continue the pattern and disconnect from others, or we are so proud of our suffering that we, well, continue the pattern and disconnect from others.

Now, it’s very likely that a lot of us have met with our demons, have looked them in the eye, and do not glorify or hide from them. And yet, many times we say, “It’s just so hard.”

Here’s the deal. What are we comparing? We are comparing our current situation with an ideal: an ideal stemming from memory, projected fantasy, or what we suppose another person’s superior situation is. WHY are we comparing? Because we don’t want to be where we are.

Think of your least favorite hip-opener, or any pose that you mentally brace yourself for. Be aware of your reaction. It’s such a hard pose, why am I putting myself in this situation? I would much rather do this other pose, it’s so much more comfortable for me right now. I can’t relax into this, I’m putting stress in other parts of my body, and it’s just so frustrating.

If it wasn’t hard, chances are I wouldn’t need to be there.

If it didn’t evoke such a strong reaction in me, chances are it isn’t where my growth is.

Perhaps a change in vocabulary is necessary. To say something is hard also implies a battle, a fight, something we need to conquer. When in reality, the greatest challenges are our greatest mentors and advisors. Is it work? Heavens, yes! It is beautiful, gritty, joyous work. I count myself lucky and blessed to be faced with such a challenge. It keeps us inspired.

I invite you to be courageous, beautiful yogis. You are worthy and capable of true growth and connection. I see you, and I see where you are. Blessed am I to be a witness to such grace.

I say YES!

“There will always be moments in life when I stand at the end of an experience, look back, and wonder how the hell I got myself into such a beautiful situation.”

~

November. The weirdest thing to me about November is that sudden shift when the sky is enveloped in blackness by mid afternoon. It may also be for that reason that I'm having such a hard time finding my feet again after finishing Veera's teacher training this last weekend. I am a creature to loves and thrives on routine, but get me off my roller coaster, and it's a challenge to try and figure out how to clamber back onto something that's still going fifty miles an hour.

Last month I wrote about connecting with our story of origin, and I feel like I'm still on a similar track. But not so far back. I want to talk about the importance of saying yes to yourself, and the powerful wisdom in thanking who you were three months ago, six months ago, a year ago, ten years ago.

Between three and six months ago, I planted a kernel in my brain that would lead to me feeling more unstable than I have in a long time. That's what happens when we start to dig, whether it be looking in the metaphoric mirror, or hanging out in half pigeon, wondering how our hip joints could be so much like legos mummified in plastic wrap.

Now? Insecurity. Completely uncomfortable to the point where my skin itches and my body feels anxious like there's miles of energy compressed inside my muscles and my bones, and it's a GOOD thing. I'm 'suffering' from what I like to call creative constipation. I go so long without expressing myself in a creative way that I eventually reach a point where when I try to get back into it, I notice how much unnameable stuff is shoving a battering ram against my heart, trying to break through a rusty lock.

So I would like to take the time and thank my former self, three to six months ago, for saying yes. Saying yes to taking that left turn that led my path here. In honor of that former self, I opened up a folder from a chapter in my life where I wrote some form of creative writing once a day without fail. Sometimes you take a look at a thing you produced a long time ago, and in that moment it's a gift to yourself in the present. Exactly three years ago, I wrote something I needed to hear right now.

Namaste, my beautiful yogis. I am thankful for each and every one of you. I challenge you, and encourage you, to say yes. Start this new day with vigor.

"beauty manifests itself in its one million skins

shaping words poured from flexing fingers.

cry! they whisper in the ears of little children wandering by:

dirty faces and wide eyes—

tears dropping in unpredicted patterns

are no less lovely than that silly little smile you keep

perched beneath your nose.

don't be quick!

your simple minded states rest easily between overwhelming joy

and heartbreak clinging to your ankles.

to sit and stare, not so wasteful

as the times you went by forgetting all you saw.

notice me! they beg, weaving between the hollows of your face,

and the human being sitting next to you—

I emerge in moments, lingering only as long

as you watch."

by Tasia-Ray Weatherly, October 28, 2008

Gratitude

How do we cultivate gratitude in the spectrum of our experiences?



As human beings we are often bombarded with such a wide array of changes. Some we effortlessly rejoice in. Others trouble our hearts and minds, testing our eagerness to feel, be vulnerable, and let go. We've all experienced these. They arrive on our doorsteps dressed in many guises, at multiple points in our lives. Yet it is always what we choose to do with these difficult experiences that make the difference. Can we greet every moment, understand them, let them go and... be grateful for them?

I suffered a back injury when I was thirteen, causing a major change in physical capability, and it sparked a journey I could never have anticipated. The best way to keep my pain under control is through physical activity, which is how I tumbled half-consciously into yoga's multifaceted lap. But as I continued my blossoming yoga practice, I discovered something absolutely amazing. While it was chronic, my pain was never the same moment to moment. I realized I could actually cultivate awareness in my own body to better understand it, and myself.

Pain has a funny way of making you hyper-aware of the moment. It's the vivid flash of light that catches our attention. After several years of having to pay attention to what my body is feeling, and understanding the subtle differences, I've begun to recognize what my core feels. Through all of this, I have a more intimate relationship with this delightful, flawed, perfect, intricate vehicle that I am in constant communion with.

This physical experience became a beautiful metaphor and lesson for the mosaic of sensations in my life. If it's possible to feel gratitude for the reality of an injury, and the reality of my body as it is... there are so many possibilities! And it all starts on the mat, with you, with your body, your heart, your beautiful self. In practice, during moments of intensity, I focus on finding a calm attention. My body courageously and humbly builds its strength, limbs shaking, sweat tumbling down my skin like a river, muscles burning. Practicing along side, I cannot help but thank my form, and what brought me to this point, with an honest grace that I'm only beginning to discover.


How do you cultivate gratitude on and off your mat? Have you ever found gratitude in unexpected places? Let us know on our Facebook page!