Move With Awareness, Calm Your Mind, Heal Your Body
What’s happening Now?
Three little words used in a yoga therapy session to anchor you into the present moment and, as I have found, tethers you to your future goals and dreams…
To read more check out my latest post at Phoenix Rising Yoga Therapy here.
Here’s a fun picture Oliver caught of the the girls and I “playing” yoga in the back yard. I love this picture, not because my little squeakers are budding yogis, but because we were being silly and enjoying the simple fun of trying to balance on our bottoms. There was no expectation of technique, or a goal of any kind for that matter. That’s how I feel yoga should be for kids–pure, playful, and in-the-moment fun. Gets me thinking maybe we could all use a little bit more of this kind of yoga in our lives.
Have a look at my latest blog post giving you a yogic perspective on making New Years resolutions here.
Wishing you a playful New Year,
Renee
Let me start by introducing myself. I’m a woman who believes “reliability and functionality” define a good handbag, I studied science in university, my favourite iPhone app is my Reminder’s checklist, and my friends nicknamed me “The Grid” for my exceptional ability to think in straight lines. Over the years, I certainly have not placed myself on the top of the creative totem pole. In fact, I used to get low grade anxiety whenever someone invited me to a crafting event. (The echo of my subconscious reminding me, “I’m not creative–that’s reserved for that other group of people–the artsy, color-outside-the-lines people”). But recently my yoga practice revealed a new possibility to me, and a whole new perspective of what defines creativity and where I stand in this definition came into colour.
It happened gradually, like the peeling away the layers of an onion; however, recently a big chunk fell off. I was in Cobbler pose–a common pose where you join the soles of your feet and let your knees fall out to the sides. This pose has been in my practice for years, but also one I have never felt satisfied with since my left hip has slowly become less and less flexible (my suspicion is arthritis). I can’t count how many times I’d done Cobbler and pressed down on my knee as if to try to force my left hip to open like the right side–the thought was, if I spend a little more energy and focus on it, it will loosen, it will improve–but it hasn’t. Then one miraculous morning, I accepted it. I sat upright, joined the soles of my feet, and let my knees fall as they would–beautifully asymmetrical and seasoned with age. For the first time, I felt at peace with it, as if to say,” This is who I am right now and there is no need to change or fix anything.” What I realized at that moment was I was finally getting out of my own way. Letting go of the old, or fixed ideas about who I used to be or how my hip should be, and opening to the space of who I am right now.
So how does this relate to creativity you might ask… Well, it was very near after this day I saw the same awareness show up in another aspect of my life. You see, I’d always written the odd poem in my journal and this recent acceptance of “this is who I am right now” gave me a green light to write more poems. I used to think they were just something I did when I needed to vent on paper (more a process of processing, if you will) and my belief that they weren’t any good because I’m not good at writing and I’m not a creative person prevented me from truly engaging in this interest. I realized I’ve been holding this part of myself back out of fixed beliefs and old ideas of self, much like the ideas that made me believe that my left hip and right hip should perform the same. My poems, my writings (interestingly about yoga), are a genuine passion for me, and right now, this is what’s in me that’s calling to be expressed. It’s time for me to let them
exist just as they are, imperfections and all.
More to this revelation of mine. Even though my breakthrough acceptance appears like a sudden epiphany, in reality, to get to this place of resolve–to be able to say my writings and poems have value and deserve to be expressed–took inner work. It took a gradual building of trust and confidence in myself. And my yoga practice was instrumental in this process (and when I say “practice”, a word to the wise, if the yoga class you’re thinking of promotes a beach-body and rock-hard abs, this is not the type of yoga practice I’m referring to).
It required what I like to call introspective yoga to cultivate this psychological growth. What I needed was a safe, slow, and quiet space where the volume of my inner knowing could be turned up. What was revealed to me was a confidence in my inner voice and the value of expressing it. Essentially, I was building trust in following my heart’s desire, and, for the purpose of this blog post, giving me the foundation from which I’d take the next step of sharing my poems. (For those of you who are interested you can read one here).
So here’s the truth I’ve come to realize–creativity evolves out of the recognition of what you do in your life that brings you joy. You need to identify the topics and activities that naturally get you curious and excited (you know, the ones you’d spend all your free time doing just for the fun of it) because this is the place from which creation is born. And no matter the end product, it’s truly special because it’s a product of genuine passion combined with the uniqueness of you. If you’re anything like me, sometimes these inner yearnings get dampened by the “shoulds and should-nots” we carry in our heads, and what’s needed is a platform like yoga to open the space for the wise body and inner voice to be present. Perhaps it’s time to get out of your own way and ask yourself, “What’s in me that’s not being expressed?”
This post was originally published on the Phoenix Rising Yoga Therapy website’s guest blogs here.
You can close your eyes to the things you don’t want to see but you can’t close your heart to the things you don’t want to feel.
-Johnny Depp
I was just on Facebook and as I scanned through the numerous pretty pictures with inspiring quotes and affirmations, I was pleased to happen across this one post linking to Elephant Journal with an article on healing and pain, Pain is a Process; Honor It . In this article the author, Christine Gutierrez, is referring to the type of pain that comes from life’s bum deals, you know, the heartaches, failures, cruelties and unfairness, lessons of loss and grief, disappointments, etc. To heal this pain, she explains, there is a process that needs to take place, and this process doesn’t always come in the package of positive thinking and affirmations – sometimes the process needs to include the messy moments, the sadness, and hurt. I especially like her line, “No matter how good we may get at tracking a storm, the beauty of nature is that she does her own thing. Sometimes it hurts, but it is what it is.”
Reading this article was like a sigh of relief! Tbh [to be honest] I get really disconcerted when I hear “keep your chin up”, or, my personal favourite, “stay positive” when I’m really down. It seems to me that some of this proper, tea party talk has roots in the idea that it’s not okay to show your emotions, that it’s weak and improper, and god forbid imposing on another. Or, rather, if you just wish it away it will be no longer… Really? So you just learned some really crappy news or maybe you’re sorting through some painful childhood stuff. I for one, am not going to tell you how to feel, how to be, or when to be it. I can see how it would be radically confusing to chant messages of light and optimism when every cell of your being is aching in grief. And, it’s my opinion that if you look a little deeper at this notion of “staying positive” there’s a shadow called fear walking beside the mind-set. Yep, people are afraid to feel emotions, afraid to show emotions, and afraid to witness another’s emotions because this makes them feel uncomfortable, or better yet, vulnerable.
I once read that to watch a young child be with their emotions is a good example of healthy expression. When it comes to feelings, toddlers have a natural ability to flow from moment to moment – they can go from peaceful, happy play to abrupt tears and cries, and then, like the flick of a light switch, back to peaceful, happy play. I wonder, what would it be like to let our feelings move through us in this way rather than stuffing them deep down where they can do the lethal damage? Now I’m not saying we should all regress to childhood tantrums in the schoolyard, but I am suggesting to feel is good, and to feel all of it. It’s okay to cry, to be messy, to be angry and sad. This is all a part of the human experience we call life. As Dolly Parton said, You can’t have the rainbow without the rain.” And really could we even know happiness without it’s polar opposite of sadness?
So I say befriend your emotions – all of them. Acknowledge and accept them, and when the time is right, find a place and a way to be with them. Maybe something you do is journalling; some like poetry, painting, talking with a friend or therapist, watching a chick flick… whatever opens the dam and lets you feel and express. Personally I have found my yoga and yoga therapy to be the most healthy and effective ways to get in touch with what’s really going on. My promise to you is feeling the ugly won’t make you ugly. I’m betting that if you find authentic and productive ways to be with your emotions, your body, your being, will thank you for it. To quote Ms. Gutierrez, “This to me is the true art of healing – to allow the healing to be what it is.”
One of my yoga therapy course work assignments is to practice certain postures and to write about what I learn about my body in relation to the pose. One of the poses I am practicing this term is yoga mudra. I’ve chosen to do this pose while in lunge position. My body enjoys this pose; it is strangely comforting and edgy all at once. I think it’s because I fold into myself, but at the same time, I am using strength through my legs to support and balance myself while my arms extend and stretch out away from me.
One day when I was practicing this pose I realized I could stretch my arms up further than I was doing… and it was easy. At that moment I had an awareness and it brought me back to a time when I was doing this pose on the rocky shores of Maui. 
My husband had taken a picture of me doing it and I remembered seeing the photo thinking my arms were not reaching very high. What I have since realized was in this photo, and countless times thereafter, I was NOT demonstrating my full ability, and the awareness became: sometimes I hold back and even when I know I can push further (and when it is completely safe for me to do so!). Hmmm… what an interesting realization. So what am I holding back for?
This became a very insightful question for me to ask myself, “What am I holding back for?”, and with some space and acceptance, a big learning piece emerged. Without going into all the gloriously messy details, let’s just say I realized I was holding a fear of fully expressing myself, a coping strategy learned from my younger years which no longer serves me. Wow, what an awareness – all from the simple practice of one pose allowing my body to speak it’s wisdom.
So… back to “what I learned about my body in relation to this pose”, of course my arms can extend further, so let them… and I have.
Here I am doing tree pose on the black rocky shoreline of Wai’anapanapa State park in east Maui. I had been there once before, and ever since I longed to return. I imagined myself doing yoga one day along this shoreline, standing amiss the inhospitable edges of the volcanic rock and turbulent seas. So here I am, an intention unfolded… a friend asks me why I want to do a serene practice like yoga in such a rough and violent setting? “I’m not sure”, I said. Perhaps I loved the contrast, no, perhaps I longed for the fear, the feeling of being alive and humble alongside nature’s raw power.
The experience was edgy (pun intended); my feet hurt, the wind blew, the water sprayed. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was where I needed to be. And so I did yoga, on the edge of somewhere in between, ready for the next step with fear and vulnerability as I knew it would be a leap and then a dive into waters less calm. That day, I left Wai’anapanapa State Park, grateful for its unease, and ready to step.
Change never happens when you’re standing still, but shift does.