Life at 75 Percent: Fighting the Ego

Ah, glorious inversions! I just came home from a fabulous weekend of practicing and practice-teaching inversions with my new, beautiful group of yoga teacher trainers. It's been less than a month since I started my 300 hour, professional teacher training through YogaWorks and Prana Yoga Center in La Jolla, and I am loving every minute of it. Well, almost. The group is wonderfully small, inquisitive, open and compassionate and I feel so fortunate to be working with these beautiful individuals. The YogaWorks instructors have been fantastic -- full of energy and information, and excited to help us learn how to be better teachers. The only problem I've been having is with myself -- finding my limits and practicing ahimsa, or non-violence, with my practice.

I am so grateful to be working with a physical therapist who intimately understands yoga (check out www.embodyyogatherapy.com). Additionally, she seems to understand exactly the type of person I am, including my tendency to push my body just over its limits -- time and time again. I asked her directly this week what my limits should be. I knew we'd be practicing inversions this weekend and I really wanted to get upside down, but safely. I She said, "Anna, first of all, don't do anything that hurts or feels uncomfortable. Second, do everything at 75% of what you would normally do. So if your brain tells you that you can do five handstands, do three. If you think you can hold for another five breaths, hold for three." Basically, override the ambitious part of the ego and have compassion with my healing body.

Ironically, the lead instructor and I were dealing with the same struggle. I'm trying to safely recover from injury, and she was pregnant. She wanted to demonstrate and do each inversion, and so did I, but both of us had to rein in the ego, look at the larger picture, and find compassion.

I did it. I mean, I practiced at 75%. Or I thought I did. I'm feeling a little compression and discomfort in my low back; not pain, just discomfort. But I did less, and that feels like a good start. Next time, I think I'll take it down to 60% of what I think I can do.

This weekend I learned a lot of really helpful and solid information about how to teach inversions safely. I learned how to tell if a student isn't ready for certain inversions and why, and how to work with that student to become ready. I learned new ways of spotting students upside down and a fantastic line of preparatory poses to build strength and courage before an inversion.

But the biggest thing I learned this weekend was something that our instructor said when we were in meditation: our yoga practice is meant to heal, invigorate, and relax us. It is not meant to harm us. When we are working past the edge, or moving incorrectly, or not listening to the body, we are not practicing yoga anymore. Yoga is a union of mind, body and spirit. If we are injuring ourselves, or no longer incorporating ahimsa in our practice, we are not doing ourselves any good. Yoga is meant to be a lifestyle; that is, something that we can practice our entire lives. If we can't figure out how to listen to the body now, how will we safely practice into old age?

When the body is healing, do less. What I've come to realize is that even if my ego is as strong as ever, my body is not as strong right now. That's okay. If I take it one day at a time, at 60 to 75% of normal, then slowly, my strength will build and I will find the healing aspect of yoga and be able to practice past my 60th and even 75th birthdays.

Revitilization

It's been a long time since I've written. And not because I didn't have plenty to say, but I decided to follow the old saying, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." It wasn't that I had a mouthful of hateful words to spout, but more that I've been in such a personal transition that nothing made sense, even to myself. So, I guess more appropriately, I was following, "If you can't say anything that makes any sense, don't bother moving your tongue (or typing the keys)."

This transition has been difficult and sat at times, and inspiring and energizing at others. This "transition" I'm speaking about has several components; an injury (or re-injury); a shift in my teaching schedule; a desire to teach, practice, and understand yoga differently than I have been; and a bucket of new yoga information. And while I said this has been sometimes difficult, I also realize that the transition has been divinely inspired; each shift or piece of new information presented itself at the perfect time, whether I realized it at the time or not. All of it I created through manifestations, even the uncomfortable pieces, as a way to teach myself the lessons I want to learn and to grow into what I want to become.

For the next few days, I'll fill you in on what I've been learning the past month, starting with how injury has effected me. For the rest of the month, I'll keep you posted the new, incredible journey I'm taking. I hope you'll stick around.

Yoga is Everywhere

I've written before about hidden limits or boundaries that we attach to ourselves. Some of these limits are helpful, like the limit that says, "I shouldn't walk across a street that contains a moving vehicle." Other limits are not so helpful, and these limits are often times invisible to us.

I recently uncovered a limit that I had in my space. This limit said that the only yoga asana that I should practice was a rigorous type of Astanga or vinyasa that gave my body a noticeable workout. Last July, when an injury occurred on my body, I didn't try any types of more gentle yoga to increase healing. Instead, I went out of the yoga world and into the medical world until I was ready to jump back into a vinyasa class. Today I realize that in doing that, I missed out on so many of benefits that yoga has to offer.

This time, I am not going outside of yoga to heal. I was recently inspired to attend a Happy Back Class at Prana Yoga in La Jolla. It was fabulous! Not only was is safe for people with injury, it focused on common postures (we worked mostly standing asanas for that class) and how specifically to use the leg and belly muscles to release the back and keep it free in the posture. The class included aid from the yoga wall with straps to hold onto in standing postures, and a sling to hang from in downward facing dog and child's pose. Hanging in traction is one of my new favorite things! I've been trying to stretch my back like that for months without having the physical ability to do it; with the wall, it's easy! And as for thinking I wouldn't get enough exercise -- my legs are so sore! Our instructor's mantra to us was that we have strong legs that can hold us up; our back doesn't have to do all that work. I realized that I had been stabilizing my postures with a tailbone tuck that caused clenching in the glutes and the back; learning to stabilize myself only with my legs and low belly was very challenging, and left me more sore than I have been in months!

I am so inspired. My ego is embarrassed that I let myself go so long believing that vinyasa was the only type of yoga for me. I fully admit that I was so wrong. Today, I am taking the Happy Back Class again because I want to learn more. I want to learn how to have a practice free of pain and discomfort and free from putting my back at risk through poor alignment and weakness. I'm also taking a restorative class this evening that will focus on spinal alignment and deep relaxation. As I look towards these different and varying types of yoga, I am inspired and excited to learn as much as I can. I've realized in the past few weeks that although I love vinyasa, it's not for everyone all the time. There are people with chronic injury or recovering injury who need yoga also, and I want to be an instructor who can tailor a practice to help those people recover, to take the worry or panic from their mind, and show them, like I was shown Wednesday, that they are strong and they can train their body in a healthy way.

Namaste.

(Re)Injury

I hurt my back again.

I was having a fabulous two weeks of no pain. I started jogging lightly again. I started back bending more consistently. I was a bit tight and stiff on Friday morning, and when teaching, I folded forward into uttanasana and my low back went into those awful, painful spasms that I have come to know all too well.

It's funny, but I'm not as upset this time. Am I a tad frustrated? Yes. I don't like having to be inactive. But this time, instead of getting frustrated and blaming the world, I feel like I have a lesson to learn. I need to learn how to fix my body myself. Obviously, the advice of the experts wasn't helping me improve my low back weakness. I have the power in me and the resources at my disposal to figure out what is wrong and to fix it. For the first time in a while, I'm not looking to someone else for answers. I'll find them myself.

Oh, I could write an entire blog post about physical therapists, their high-horses, and their lack of the intricate knowledge required for yoga anatomy. But I won't, because placing blame is pointless, since my life is my own. Instead, I'll just remember that because I looked outside of myself, I didn't get the whole answer, because every BODY is different and a one-size-fits-all solution doesn't always work. I'm doing my own anatomical research, and found a missing piece to the back-pain mystery (I won't go into it now, it's a work in progress). As soon as I am well, I am excited to re-train my body to work correctly. I'm also excited to pass on the information I'll be learning to see if it can help my students.

The day I got hurt, my mental state oscillated between distraction (I caught up on episodes of "Private Practice" and watched "New Moon again") and a mindful calm. Between those bouts of rest on the bed or the couch, I retreated to my back yard, where I knelt on the ground, barefoot, to pull weeds, plant the garden, pull more weeds, slowly mow and trim the grassand plant a flat of small, green ground cover. I moved slowly, accepting my body as it was, and focused only on the task at hand. Being outside and using the simple activity of pulling weeds was so calming, so healing, that it reinforced my belief in the true healing powers of the Earth. Engaging in earth-based activities can bring a sense of calm like no other. It's one of the only places outside the occasional breakthrough yoga class where I can let thoughts of worry, frustration, or despair melt away and focus only on the moment -- on the dirt on my fingers, the spines on the weeds, the bark under my knees, and the satisfying feel of an unwanted root being pulled from the ground.

So I cannot despair. For even if I don't have my yoga asana practice, I can still have the peaceful mind, steady heart, and calm, calm, calm.

The two selves

I have been spending a lot of time by myself in asana, meditation, and thought this week. It has been beneficial for me. For the past week, I've practiced everyday, meditated most of those days, slept a lot, and started to reconnect with my Self.

Patanjali said that there were two selves; the True Self or the spirit, and the mind. In an article by Kate Holcombe in Yoga Journal this month (May 2010), Holcombe says to think of the True Self as the boss, and the mind as the assistant. What would happen, she asks, if the assistant acted as though she ran the place, without ever checking with the boss at all? I've found that when my mind takes over for my true self, I feel chaotic, ungrounded, unsure of myself and my abilities as a person, unconfident in my path and alone. Or, I can feel on a mission to the point of blindness, forgetful of the moral or need the fueled it, like the thought or goal has shushed everything else in my space and I have a one track mind. Usually, when I achieve the mind's goal and the white noise is gone, I usually feel defeated, guilty, or astonished that I could let the mind run the place for so long.

In Sutra 11.23, translated by Holcombe, it states, The inability to discern between the temporary fluctuating mind and our own true Self, which is eternal, is the cause of our suffering, yet this suffering provides us with the opportunity to make this distinction and to learn and grow from it, by understanding the true nature of each.

I know what my True Self sounds like. When the voice of my True Self is prominent, it speaks to my soul's desire and spiritual path on this planet. It speaks to support me and to gently guide me when I'm off track. It makes me feel beautiful, supported, loved and nourished. It reverberates through my body like a sound wave, ringing through the chakras. Depending on what it has to say, I may feel it in different chakras. When my mind, or my ego, is steering me, it's like white noise over the aura. When my mind is speaking, it acts more like a distraction or an obsession, and it blinds me from hearing my Truth. For example, I've lately spoke of this desire for purchasing. That is my Mind speaking. What is says is this: "You must have this item. When you receive this item, and not before, you will be a complete person. You will finally fit this ideal picture that I have of you." In other words, the promise of the mind is to make me complete through act. This obsession doesn't feed the True Self, who is complete already, and who bases everything, including purchases, knowing it is complete.

For the past couple weeks, the number of students in my classes has dropped off, and I have been wondering why. Is it my teaching style or ability or simply the student's shifting schedule? Like all teachers, I have my own style of teaching. My teaching reflects my personal practice and goals as a practitioner to slowly advance into more and more difficult asanas while keeping breath intact and clearness of mind. My teaching style is a little different than others at my studio. I took a nice class from another instructor, with a filled room, and realized what our differences were as teachers. During the class, I thought, "Well, I could teach this way, couldn't I, if I wanted to get more students?" But I realized that was my Mind speaking; the same mind that tells me I am inadequate if the number of students in my classes is lower than in other classes. After a day of thought, I realized that I can only teach what is true in my heart, and that the students who come find a connection with what I am teaching, and that is good.

In verse 1.29 of the Sutras, Holcombe translates: Those who have a meaningful connection with something greater than themselves will come to know their true Selves and experience a reduction in those obstacles that may deter them from reaching their goals.

This was another great "hello" for me. As I read this entire article, the cogs in my head went click and I realized how I had been affected by obstacles in my life. When difficulties occur in my life, it's my reaction to absorb them, to become them. When I injured my back, it wasn't just an injury to the person I am; I became that injury. Similarly with vertigo. I wasn't a person with vertigo, it was my vertigo; I had let it become who I was. What Patanjali was saying in this passage is that we need to learn to understand our connection with the Universe and our True Selves in order to experience difficult circumstances without identifying with them or absorbing them.

When I finished reading yesterday, I started to make separation from the difficulties that ailed me. I am starting to glimpse what I already believe: that I am a spiritual being in a body, rather than just a body with a mind. Vertigo or back injuries or PMS or weight gain or sickness or taxes do not define who I am; they are just things that happen to me. Patanjali suggested that everything that has an effect on our bodies and minds is something that is happening to us, not that those things define who we are. It could be argued then, that life on this planet is something that is just happening to us; it is an experience that we are using to grow our True Self. If that is true, then we really must learn to know and trust our True Self and the Universe (or Supreme Being, or God, or whatever you wan to call it). And of course, that we should take life less seriously and find more amusement. After all, it's just something that's happening to us. It doesn't define who we Are.

The Potential of Thinking Positively

I know that my life is shaped by the thoughts that I have. I know this. And I know that when I feel like the world is wobbling underneath me and things are getting shaky, I can change the way I view things by changing my thoughts. It is easy to know this. It is more difficult to actually do this.

I also realized an interesting pattern to my symptoms that have my doctors baffled. My vertigo is nearly obsolete in the mornings, the time of day when I feel the most optimistic, the time of day that I love the best. My vertigo worsens around mid-day, and is particularly virulent when I am around others, especially those with strong energies. My vertigo is also particularly nauseating when I haven't meditated or otherwise grounded my spiritual practice. That was a hello for me. I have recently felt like a spiritual person hiding in the closet, waiting for the safe time to come out. I am afraid that what my body is craving is a grounded, active or admitted spiritual practice. For me, that practice would be based on spiritual freedom through meditation, connection with the god of my heart and a deep connection and study of the natural world. And yoga, lots of yoga. One of the principles of my spiritual beliefs is that I create the world I live in through my thoughts, my actions and my reactions to my thoughts and the actions and intentions of others. To live this truth is my challenge.

I am trying. During a rather rough bout of vertigo on Monday (yes, I still have vertigo, can you believe it?), I was having a healing session with my friend when she sent me a huge hello. People had been reminding me for the past month to laugh and find amusement and change the way I think about my situation. But it hadn't come through, I mean really come through, until Monday. Somehow, as my friend asked for the third time over Skype if I was going to hurl, I realized that I had no routine or time set aside for spiritual practice. I am an organizational person, and I realized that I had not set aside any time for meditation or journaling, an activity that works wonders for my well-being. Instead, I had just "hoped" to find the time. Well, no more hoping, now it's in the google calendar just like everything else.

Each morning, I start with time for yoga. To move my body and feel the subtleties within. This is followed by a time for meditation, 15 minutes to an hour, depending on what comes. Followed by journaling time. If nothing else, I want to focus on what areas in my life I've been taking too seriously and see how I can change my thought patterns to create amusement and allow energy to flow in a positive direction.

I did this yesterday, and although my vertigo was still rocking and rolling, I felt somehow much more calm to deal with it. Instead of worrying about how bad it could get and how long it could last, I remembered my meditative tools and remained calm, collected, and available to participate in my life, rather than fall victim to it.

Change verses growth

The only thing constant in life is change, and for some reason, we always seem to want to resist it. I admit to loving the comfort of a good, old routine, something that stays constant from one day to the next. But the reality is that this life is always changing, and we are either left to let life change us unexpectedly, or instead become active participants in our own lives and find personal growth to either match or spur life's changes.

I made a commitment today to a professional yoga teacher training program through YogaWorks. It was a big decision; a large commitment of time, energy, endurance and money. But I hardly thought twice. Lately, I've found so much joy in teaching and helping others, and the more I teach, the more I realize where my limits are as a teacher. I realized that if I want to continue down this path of teaching yoga, I must break down those limits so that I can grow as a yoga teacher, a yoga practitioner and as a person.

Recently, I have been resisting change. Change came along for me in the form of sore back muscles and vertigo, and yet I keep resisting. "I don't want this," I keep thinking, "I hate this. I want to get back to the way my life was before this." But that can't happen. Instead, I should be saying, "Wow! I wasn't paying attention to the change in front of me. I wasn't active in my growth to keep up. Now I have vertigo and a sore back. What are these things trying to tell me? What do they want me to learn?" I am confident that once I learn the lesson they're putting in front of me, I'll find growth and move past these hurdles.

So I asked my vertigo today, "What do you want? Why are you here?" And it said back to me, "I am here because you have been playing the victim and looking for love and companionship outside of yourself. You need to learn to truly love and accept yourself." Wow, so that wasn't heavy or anything. And hadn't I just admitted to a shopping addiction due to feeling unloved and lonely? I was looking outside myself for love, and if the addiction wasn't enough of a clue, now my body was acting up, too.

Of course, you could just say, "Well, vertigo is a medical thing, right? I mean, why are you 'talking' to it?" Because it's all energy. Energy causes joy as well as pain. A happy emotion can make you feel light as air, and a stressful emotion can cause you to feel heavy and tight until your shoulders are bound to your ears. It's all energy. And it's every changing.

So. I'm moving forward. But I'm also slowing down enough to take the time to listen to what my body has to tell me. What does your body have to tell you? Do you manifest your spiritual/energetic messages through your body like me, or do your electronics stop working and your car breaks down? Stop to find the message behind the mayhem, so that you can learn to grow with the change, rather than be a victim to it.