Yoga Dreams

So.  I've been thinking of signing up to do a yoga training for a long time now.  The idea initially came to my mind when I first did the Artist's Way in the winter of 2014.  A question that comes up a few times throughout the course is, if you could do anything, what would you do?  I can't remember exactly what I wrote down, but one of them was to crochet -- which I started doing!  Another one was to learn how to play the mandolin -- which I started doing!  And another one was that I'd love to be a yoga instructor.  And none of these things are crazy.  It's not like I really really wish I could live on Mars!  But the yoga one has been harder because even though I love to do yoga, I'm not amazing at it.  There are loads of positions that I can't even begin to dream of doing.  And I'm also really hung up on the fact that I don't really look like a yogi.  And probably never will.  So why would anyone trust me to teach them anything?  Well, today I took the plunge!  I signed up for a yoga training!  And even if it doesn't lead to a blossoming teaching career, at the very least I will be following through with a goal and also delving deeper into the philosophy and history of yoga which will be great.  

Like everything in my life, the decision of where to do the yoga training was a long, complicated, and circuitous one!  I knew that I wanted to do an accelerated version, not one that would take months and months, but so many of that variety were in exotic locales -- come to Costa Rica or Bali!  And they still usually lasted at least a month.  What sorts of people can pick up and go to Bali for a month?  Young, unencumbered ones.  Pas moi.  I also was interested in doing a Kundalini training since that is the type of yoga I've done the most, and there was nothing remotely near me.  After almost two years of off and on looking, I finally decided to do a training in Memphis that met for one weekend a month for six months.  It was kind of expensive, plus I'd need to get a hotel every time, and drive 7 hours each way -- not ideal, but it was the best I could find.  I was just about to pull the trigger when I happened to be talking to my friend Twila about it and she said... "Hey!  My sister does yoga trainings!"  I have no idea how that had never come up before!  I immediately looked up the Bodhi yoga website and saw that there was a 10 day accelerated training ✓, she taught a more traditional yoga (Bodhiflow), restorative (Bodhiyin), and Kundalini (Bodhispin) ✓, it is in Provo (!) so I didn't have to worry about paying for a hotel and could visit my family -- two birds with one stone ✓, and she had two spaces left for a training that will be in June!  I'm so excited!

some body to love

I finished up a series of childbirth classes last night and on the way out one of my students asked me if I had ever used an after birth belly band to get my stomach flat again.  I said that no, I never have (partly because I have never had a very flat stomach to begin with, thanks short torso), but that she should let us know if she decides to try one.  I then quickly added, "Of course, your body may never be the same again after your first baby because your ribs and hips have probably widened."  I often speak before I think and didn't realize how utterly horrified that last sentence would make her.  "What?  I won't fit back into my clothes???"  "Maybe, you will.  And maybe you won't."  I whispered.  She is due on Saturday and that was just the last straw for her.  She just could not wrap her head around it and continued to rant and rave about the injustice of all the sacrifice for a few minutes.  I have been thinking a lot about this very topic for a few weeks as my body once again expands supernaturally to help grow a baby.  It seems to stretch even further every time.  Initially this is alarming and upsetting, especially because my actual weight was higher to begin with this time (five more pounds than when I delivered Ella) and I am almost to a significant large number that I have never had the pleasure of seeing on my scale before.  I was hoping to avoid it, but there is only five more pounds and more than four more months to go so the math isn't too difficult on that one.  I struggle with body image at the best of times, but I am trying to subdue the inner beast and just enjoy letting my tummy hang out for a few months.  I am also trying to put myself beyond self-reproach by eating healthily and going to the gym almost every day.  What more can I really do anyway?  In yoga class the teacher always asks us to set an intention for our practice so the last few times I have decided to set the intent of simply loving my body.  Being grateful for all that it can do.  Not saying mean things to it when I look in the mirror.  Not wishing it could be altogether different.  Not begrudging the discomforts I feel so keenly lately.  Not obsessing about how it will look for the few months after the baby comes.   Sometimes all of these things can be really, really difficult, but they can make all the difference in outlook.  Today in class she asked us to really think about how our bodies felt, "Observation without judgement."  Is that even possible?  I realized that I can be very hard on myself and in turn I think it makes me more judgmental of other people as well.  I see that one really does have to love oneself before truly being able to love others.  So with all of this tossing around my mind I turned to my student and gently reminded her that she was doing all this for her baby, that sometimes mommy bodies don't look the same as they used to, but we still need to love them and be so very grateful for how amazing they are.  A new human life!  What can be more incredible than taking part in that?  She still looked skeptical, but hopefully she will change her tune when she holds that baby in her arms for the first time.


Speaking of first babies, my oldest baby is turning 17 today.  I remember those first moments with her so clearly.  What a blessing she has always been for me.  Those initial days I would stare at her with so much love and think that someday, when she is 15 or so, she would hate me and wouldn't that be sad?  But she has never been like that and has been nothing but sweetness, along with her own unique dose of pragmatism that helps us all not get too dramatic about life.  Happy Birthday Eleanora!

my mamba

My affirmation for the day is that I am really good at recycling.  I am so good, in fact, that I am pretty certain that I just recycled a check worth over $150.  And now it is gone forever.


At yoga class on Wednesday as we twisted our bodies into dancers pose, our instructor started to talk about how our lives are like a dance.  We move from one thing to the next, partnering up with someone briefly to have a conversation or arrange something, then away again to do some solo work.  She said that perhaps as we held the pose we could manifest the thought to make our dance a little more graceful.  Ooowhee -- that opened a can of worms in my head.  What a fantastic image, but my dance would be a lot more like Elaine's than Martha Graham-esque.  I picture something frenetic, choppy, inefficient, repetitive, full of almost everything but Grace.  And am I really responsible for the choreography?  Could I be more purposeful?  Could I add more finesse?  Yes.  And I love the whole mental picture of it -- how expressive we can make our own individual masterpiece as we convey each part of our emotions -- sorrow, happiness, peace, lethargy.


What is your dance like?  Comical, like mine?  Or simply life-like.

tragic flaw

I suppose that everyone is aware of their own weaknesses, but there really is nothing like having teenagers to truly bring one's deficiencies front and center.  Sometimes while we were traveling I could feel myself getting snippy, which I know is just immature, but then I would look over to see my two oldest smiling at each other with knowing looks, there goes mom again.  And it would just make me even more cantankerous.  I know already and I don't need you two pointing it out, okay?  Grr.

Since we've been back I've decided that I should finally pull my weight and do seminary duty.  After all, it has been almost two years and I have not one, single, solitary time taken the absurdly early journey to the church with eldest girl.  I had a baby after all.  As with all of my endeavors, I first  had to acquire supplies.  In this case a dvd player so that I can do yoga in a classroom while I wait.  Those extra 15 pastry pounds aren't going to simply walk away without some prodding, I am afraid.  I have been very diligent for the past four days and have enjoyed the solitude as well as the fact that I can't really just roll over in bed and not do it.  I have to go.  So yesterday I was happily following the routine and there comes a part where I am supposed to hold my breath, close my eyes, and start punching the air in front of me.  The guy said, "Become incensed!  Turn your anger into inspiration."  Okay, I am enraged, punching as hard as I can and I start thinking about who I would like to hit that hard.  My husband?  No.  My kids?  No.  Rush Limbaugh...?  And suddenly the only person I could picture was myself.  I had an intense revelatory moment wherein I discovered that there is really no one in the world that irritates me as much as I do myself.  Ooh.  It was sad.  And overwhelming.  I cried alone in that room and hoped that no one would come in.  I have been thinking about it since then.  Why was it such a surprise?  I suppose because I consider myself fairly self-confident.   Also, I have been considering that it is better than it being someone else I wanted to smack because I can't change other people, much as I might like to, but I can certainly introspect and work on refining some of those flaws that bring me grief time and time again.

Right after the punching there was a segment in which I hugged myself while doing twists.  There, there now.  It will be okay.

move it

Last day of November and Happy 40th birthday to my old man!  I have enjoyed thinking about all of the many things for which I have to be thankful and I could on and on indefinitely.  One final one for now, however.  I am so grateful for a healthy body that can do so many things.  I have been trying to do yoga every day and it just feels so amazingly good!  I love it when they say things like,  "Honor the part of you that knows no doubt."  Okay!  This morning we went for a brisk walk on the beautiful trail nearby and then came home and started raking.  I love to get exercise while actually accomplishing something useful.  Whenever I am running on the treadmill, or some other activity in which I am getting nowhere fast, I can just feel my pioneer mothers looking over my shoulder snickering and wondering why I'm not simply keeping fit by whacking the carpets and chasing after the hens.  It is silly I'll admit.  Actually raking wasn't so much exercise as much as an exercise in futility once the wind sprang up and started swirling all of my piles every which way.

:: dancing on the cistern

Metaphorically Speaking

So it is Monday again and I was thinking of a favorite. I can't really write about my favorite sister, my favorite friend, or my favorite child now can I? I am just kidding, I don't have a favorite of those. I love all of them equally. I do have a favorite yoga dvd that I am liking a lot and that is "Dance the Chakras." My sister, Ellen, sent it to me and I really like doing it. The absolute best part of the practice is when I do shoulder stand and my tummy fat is no longer just sitting there, but actually going up (or down, whatever). This is very motivating and I really like it every time (not really, no). Today I was listening and discovered that apparently what happens on your yoga mat does not stay on your yoga mat. She said, "What happens on your yoga mat becomes a metaphor for your life." Oh, no!!! There are so many things wrong with that. For one, I never, ever, finish the whole dvd! What is that saying about my life? I can tell you it is pretty accurate, but one just doesn't want to be faced with that kind of truth. Another problem is that I rarely even get to yoga at all. Almost every day I think, "I will do yoga first thing in the morning. No, kids are up -- get ready for school. Now I can't because I just ate breakfast. Now I can't because I am wearing jeans. Now I can't because I just ate lunch. Now I can't because I have to pick up kids from school. Now I can't because I have to make dinner. Now I can't because I just ate dinner. Now I can't because I have to get kids in bed. Now I can't because I am too tired!" If that is a metaphor, I don't want the reality. Let's see what else. Oh, half the stuff I cannot even do. I am not flexible enough (too set in my ways?), not strong enough (timid? indecisive?), and generally unbalanced (???). When I do actually get to it, though, I really enjoy it and feel better all day. This morning the baby was climbing all over me and laying his head on my tummy -- I love that. Here is hoping that I can take this metaphor and be the conduit for my soul's expression rather than be the gutter for my incompetence.

Of course I would like to wish everyone a Happy Groundhog's Day! Six more weeks of winter, super! I would hate to be warm.