Just Another Learning Experience

I had another dance class on Sunday. Just as the previous week went so well, this week went so badly. I showed up a little late, but was still winded half way through the warm up. I tried the moves, the same moves I had done the week before, but they failed me. I tried to clear my mind and move without thinking, which had worked the week before. Not this time. I then tried to analyze and break it down. Nada. 

 

I wasn’t the only one having problems that day and we talked about it. There were no expectations. We weren’t there to judge ourselves. We weren’t there to compete. We were there to have fun. I realized that I would be having fun if I could get out of my own way. The thing most in need of a workout wasn’t my body, but my big, flabby ego. Seeing this improved my mood and I was able to laugh at myself a little. 

The fact is, we aren’t the same from day to day. We are constantly shifting beings. Our bodies, our moods, our minds. Slight shifts internally or externally may seem imperceptible to us but may make all the difference. What works for us today may not serve us tomorrow. I can take my dance class as just another reminder to listen and honor the present moment instead of deciding what it should be.

Mind Interrupted

I’m an overthinker. I can talk myself into or out of (more the latter) virtually anything. I will be on a way to an event and have second thoughts about going. I’ll be on a date and have a continuous internal debate on how, when and where it will end up. I’ve been known to sign up for a class on an impulse only to figure out a dozen reasons why I don’t want to or can’t go. I can talk myself into feeling too tired, too sad, too sore, or too bored. I’m not sure why, but it’s epidemic throughout my life. 

This week, there have been a few instances that have stood out to me in their dissonance with my usual routine. Times where I just went for it. In dance class, our instructor showed us a rather complicated move. Usually, I would wait for a few girls to go ahead of me before attempting it myself. This time, I went first. Before my mind had time to tell me I couldn’t or analyze each move. And I surprised myself. Next move, I tried the same thing and surprised myself again. In the following days, I attended a poetry reading downtown on the fringes of my normal weekday bedtime, jumped into cold water without a backwards glance and took child’s pose in yoga because I needed a break. Instead of agonizing, I just did.

Our minds have a way of making even the simplest of tasks more difficult. They mean well. They try to keep us safe. And because they do a pretty good job, we tend listen. The more attentively we listen, the drunker they get off their power. They tell us we can’t when our hearts know we can. They fool us into thinking we are smaller than we are. Something inside us cries out when we know they’re wrong and they waste vast amounts of energy to quell us. We end up feeling conflicted and drained. 

I know my brain is smart, but I believe my heart is wise. If I’m going to live this year with an open heart, I’m going to do more. Before my mind has time to interrupt.

Acts of Nonviolence

Ahisna translates roughly into “do no harm” or “non-violence”. There are the obvious applications of this practice, but it’s the more subtler subtexts I’ve been exploring as of late. Specifically, when it comes to ones own person.

How many times have you tipped over a glass or forgot something at home and thought “I’m so stupid?” Have you ever overeaten and sat there, miserable, thinking of how you lack willpower. Or caught yourself in the mirror and instantly zoned in on your problem areas with a critical eye. This may come automatically for most of us and daily occurrences for many.  Though seemingly benign, this is hinsa, or violence, against self. 

I struggle with this. I remember being a kid with my share of insecurities but living fast and furious, regardless. Yet somehow, I grew to adulthood being my harshest critic. I’ve gotten better over the years, but there are times where I deem myself not good enough or I waste hours second guessing myself. 

Example. Friday night arrives and I don’t have plans. Or maybe I have plans that I’m not thrilled about. I question my desire to stay at home. What’s wrong with me? All my friends are our meeting people and having fabulous times. Why is it so hard for me to get dressed and socialize? Verdict: I’m a pathetic homebody who will end up a sad and lonely old woman. 

Now, what does this diatribe get me? Does this get me out the door? No, it does nothing more than make me feel like a sad, lonely woman wasting away in her apartment.  

This is a pretty broad example, but this idea of hinsa permeates into the crevices of my relationship with myself. There it festers and cracks the foundation of trust. It hurts me. If I’m to focus this year to opening my heart and opening to love, I desperately need to examine my relationship with myself, first.

I’m starting in small ways. Catching myself in the act. Looking into my heart – and the mirror -- to find the good. Giving myself foot massages and letting myself off the hook. Start the ball rolling and see how it builds.

Open to Love

I was thinking about my theme for the year. Last year it was “Say Yes,” a phrase that just came to me. I wasn’t as inspired in the beginning weeks of this year, but I found one in yoga, today. Ok, not exactly “found” as it isn’t new thought for me. I’ve been ruminating on it for months.  But I’m ready to have it surface and commit to it. My 2012 theme is “Open to Love.” 

We have two drives within us. Fear and Love. We can act out of either motive and they have adverse affects on each other. Fear wards away love and love can drive away fear. We have a choice every day, in every action, on which to act from.

I have a lot of fear in my life and I know I often act out of it. The 2011 theme “Say Yes,” was an attempt to override this fear and see what happened. The result was a pretty great year. So, I think I’m ready for the next step. Not just to say no to fear, but to welcome love in. Love is at the core of our true underlying nature, yet our experiences and our minds can make it feel foreign, at times. Such is true for me.

I’m blessed to have a lot of love in my life. I have great friends and family that throw love my way. But this doesn’t mean I’m open to it. I allow only so much in. Too much would be scary. That would mean I’d have to be vulnerable and I may get hurt. And I’m a really sensitive person when it comes to love. In order to be “safe,” I need to regulate, was what my heart believed. 

But I’m challenging that. I think I can be both safe and in a place of accepting and receiving love. Part of being open to love is giving love to myself. Accepting my being as worthy and deserving of love. Especially, my own. So, I may get hurt and my heart may feel temporarily “unsafe,” but I can feel that and meet it with love. To myself and others. 

I’m looking forward to exploring this in situations, in actions, in beliefs and in ideas. So here’s to a year full of love and loving life.

Cafe Strangers

I’m a creature of comfort. I find the thought of drawing a hot bath and curling up with a good book infinitely rewarding. In actuality, I’m a little to antsy to be satisfied. On the other hand, venturing out into the great big world on a cold night seems more than daunting. I feel like I’m being pulled out of my womb a few months too soon. But I usually end up happy for having made the venture. 

So, though I had planned to write from my couch tonight, I decided to take my laptop to a coffee shop. You would think that in the semi-burbs we would have at least a decent one, but I’ve had to make do with the Starbucks nestled inside a Barnes and Nobles. 

There is a man across from me who is intermittently snoozing and eating nuts. In addition to him, there are several other people here, most of whom are completely not within my demographic. Children and parents, high school students, and a few elderly patrons. The type of people I don’t have as friends not because of who they are as individuals, rather that I don’t come into contact with them in my every day life. They are the truly anonymous and exactly who I hoped to encounter by venturing out. Because they are unlike me in lifestyle, one could say they are outside my comfort zone. Having come back from India only recently, one might find the fact I come to a café to be with those foreign to me, slightly amusing. But I dare say that our relative closeness is the reason why our differences seem so stark.

As a writer, pushing out of my comfort zone -- even in such subtle ways -- allows me learn. As a person, I develop an energetic kinship with those I’m unbounded to, and I grow. In doing so, I’m reminded that we are more similar than we are different, regardless of what our exteriors may say.

The man across from me has woken from his snoring reverie to take a call from his mother. Next to him two men pause in their conversation, ruminating on what else there is to say. At a table nearby, a woman sits along, paging through a magazine, looking up occasionally to take in her fellow patrons. I think about their stories. How we differ. And how we connect.