As I write this, I’m nearing the end of an impromptu six-week vacation. Impromptu because I was supposed to work abroad for two months. When those plans fell through three days before my departure, I found myself without an apartment nor a job for the summer, but in possession of a ticket to Greece. In an attempt to make lemonade out of lemons, I decided to take the time solely for myself.

Around the same time I learned that I could jump from Adho Mukha Svanasana (Downward Dog) to Bhaksana (Crow). Although it came somewhat as a surprise, I was trying to accomplish this for months by strengthening my center with jumping or “floating” exercises. As I felt my core getting stronger, I found myself feeling less and less afraid of attempting this jump, as well as many other poses. When I began practicing this sequence, I didn’t do so on the hardwood floors of most studios, but rather on the soft grass of Parc Jeanne-Mance (and then after the sandy beaches of Paros, Greece). I didn’t expect to succeed at it right away. On the contrary, I actually expected to fall many times beforehand. But to my surprise, the more I fell the less scared I became.

For those of you who read my last blog entry know that at the time of my departure I felt like I was lost in distractions. Although I didn’t know it, this trip couldn’t have come at a better, yet more confusing, time – a time when I was so afraid of loneliness yet desperately yearning for solitude. This trip is metaphorically equivalent to the process I undertook to jump from Adho Mukha Svanasana to Bakasana.

The time away allowed me to center myself after months of spending my attention and energy outwards. As I was searching for solitude, while unconsciously resisting the anticipation of loneliness, I finally understood why I wasn’t getting it despite wanting it so much. The difference, in my opinion, is in the perception of these two concepts. To put it simply, based on my experience, loneliness is being uncomfortable with being alone while solitude is being alone and embracing  it. But as I found out, there is a close enemy to solitude: being closed. When I first arrived in Greece a month ago, I instantly made friends who were very warm and inviting. Yet since I was enjoying my newfound solitude I would decline their company, invitation after invitation. Soon after I realized that I was pushing my new friends away and lingering on the opposite end of the extreme I was so used to. Once I became aware of this, I made the effort to be somewhere in between.

All this to say, after it taking weeks for me to center myself (complete with a few breakdowns) I am much less afraid to come back home and be “alone”. As is often the case, the work is far from over. Those who have returned from from retreats can attest that the real work is about to begin. Although not the same, but somewhat similar, once home it’ll take effort to not fall back into the same routines I had before my trip.

Ironically, I find comfort in knowing that it may be a difficult transition, as well as in knowing that others before me faced this challenge. In A Path with Heart Jack Kornfield touches on how to approach this process:

First it requires patience. We must recognize that transitions can be a long process. If our retreat was deep or we were away for some time, there can be weeks and months of difficulty and confusion before we again feel integrated back into our lives. As we move from one part of our life in practice to another, we must allow ourselves to feel the loss and letting go. (…)

In the same way we must honor our vulnerability. (…) To honor this sensitivity, we must take care in how we make the transition. This often means setting aside periods for silence, changing our schedule to allow for extra contemplative time, postponing the busiest or most difficult encounters, giving ourselves enough time to make a smooth transition from silence to great activity.

I feel like this post is very similar to SNL’s “Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy”. Anyway, the nice thing about staying in one place for so long (vacation-wise at least) is that you can explore the surroundings. With that said, my favorite morning hangout in Greece was this cliff over the water with waves crashing below on some rocks. There was one large rock in particular that had a large crack in it. One morning I was lost in thought and observing the waves going in and out of the crack. I’ve been invited back to teach Yoga on the island next year for two months and with this in mind, I made a mental note to come back to see how big the crack will have gotten after a year of erosion from the water and wind. Maybe a little cliché but this observation lead to a thought about impermanence, I love how things that seem permanent or solid aren’t immune to change. This doesn’t just apply to landscape but also to physical traits, the longest friendships and relationships (even the short ones), and emotions (thankfully, sometimes). In every moment change is happening, both for the good and bad (but in my opinion, even the bad is good).

All this to say, instead of fighting the inevitability of change, let’s flow with it.

Even more evidence pointing towards distraction, of course, as long as we’re aware! Click the link below to watch a video about a 10-year study finding that break ups are like giving up a cocaine addiction.

Breaking Up is like giving up a cocaine addiction

Ram Dass describes the cycles of spiritual life in Be Here Now. It helped me feel better about the ups and downs I had been experiencing the past few months.

Practice is like a roller coaster. Each new high is usually followed by a new low. Understanding this, it makes it a bit easier to ride with both phases… There is in addition to the up-and-down cycles an in-and-out cycle. That is, there are stages at which you feel pulled into inner work and all you seek is a quiet place to meditate and get on with it, and there are times when you turn outward and seek to be involved in the marketplace. Both of these parts of the cycle are a part of one’s practice, for what happens to you in the marketplace helps you in the meditation, and what happens in your meditation helps you to participate in the marketplace without attachment… At first you will think of practice as a limited part of your life. In time you will realize that everything you do is part of your practice.

To read the original post “After Compassion… the Crutches”, click here.

As you know, mostly because I blogged about it in January, my four and a half year relationship had ended. It was both a significant and difficult time for me in which opening myslef completely to the experience helped me get through it. At the same time, I was compasionate with myself, giving my heart whatever it felt it needed. This included surrounding myself with good friends who gave off equally good vibes, watching tv shows and movies that warmed my heart (I’m a sucker for romantic-comedies), listening to feel-good music, and having the occasional drink or (organic dark) chocolate bar.

It’s hard to say when exactly, but at a certain point these treats stopped being compassionate and started being crutches, or distractions. Suddenly, the occasional drink became regular few-times-a-week drinks and I was unable to be without music, a movie, or the tv playing in the background. Any remaining pockets of loneliness were filled with friends and staying out so late that I’d come home just to sleep. Before I knew it, I was caught in a whirlwind of distractions that lasted months and I either didn’t know how, or was too afraid, to break free.

Lost, suffering, and mentally exhausted from all the distractions, I silently cursed myself for being so self-aware and longed for the days of “Ignorance is bliss.” That’s when I placed a call to good friend and amazing meditation teacher Pascal Auclair.

I explained to him all my suffering and expressed disappointment in myself for being where I was in my grieving process after so many months. I told him that instead of facing my fears, I distracted myself from them and they could no longer be ignored or avoided.

Pascal helped normalize my experience for me and the one thing I appreciate most that he told me was that I took care of myself as needed in the past and now that I’m emotionally stronger, a new layer of the grieving process is presenting itself.

As with all the hardships, I was once again advised to be compassionate with myself. I was concerned, though, with still holding on strongly to my distractions. That’s when Pascal pointed out that distractions are ok, as long as you’re aware that you’re distracting yourself and avoiding something. he also encouraged me, depsite my resistance, to explore my fear, especially since most emotions last only about 90 seconds (yet we do all we can to avoid even that 90 seconds of unpleasantness). After applying his advice and being compassionate once again, I’m happy to say that things do seem a lot less scary. It is still a work in progress, and thanks to the teaching of impermanence, I’m ok knowing that there may still be downs to come.

As with most things I practice in any given moment, I have become acutely aware how we all have coping mechanisms, whether it’s instantly turning on the radio or tv upon waking or arriving home, eating that sweet or salty snack when feeling down, nervous or scared, drinking, doing drugs, or even reading spiritual book after spiritual book.

What is your own crutch? What is it you’re avoiding? Instead of reaching for it, try to take a moment to tune in to see what’s there. It’s ok to depend on your crutch as long as you’re aware you’re doing so. And as with all these practices, it’s not easy so remember to stay compassionate with yourself. Freedom from fear is right around the corner. As one teacher I studied with, Hala Khouri, has said, “On the other side of your fear is everything you could ever want.” Let that be your motivation. xo

When on retreat and in life, the precept (code of ethics for lay followers) that I have the most difficulty with is refraining from false speech. (There are five basic training precepts that include refraining from: 1. Taking life/killing; 2. Taking what is not given; 3. Sexual misconduct; 4. False speech; 5. Taking intoxicants).

Right Speech, as it is referred to in Buddhism’s Eightfold Path, has many facets, the most obvious being lying, divisive, abusive, harsh, and unbeneficial speech. But it also includes more subtle forms such as timing, telling the truth affectionately and beneficially, and (the one I have the most trouble with) refraining from idle chatter.

In regards to the more subtle forms of Right Speech, we often get hooked through an explosion of memory and story-telling. Have you ever told a story over and over again, and with each repetition you felt more and more justified for your actions or feelings? Or worse yet, you’ve told your story to your friends and they justified for you your feelings and actions, no matter how unwholesome they were (“they” being your feelings and actions, not your friends)? All this to say, more often than not, we use our speech to justify our own anger, self-importance, our desire for fame or recognition, to deceive, to blame, to divide, to gossip.

Going back to idle chatter (sigh), it’s easy to get lost especially if your speech isn’t divisive or harmful, has good timing and complies with all the other Right Speech criteria. For those of you that know me know that I’m pretty much an open book. But after getting playfully scolded by a friend for over-sharing (and by over-sharing I mean sharing almost every detail of my life and day), it made me realize that sometimes (or a lot of times) I overshare to justify that I matter, either to the person I’m talking to, to myself, or just in this world.

As I contemplated more about this, it reminded me of how in the past when I’d be going through a difficult time, the first thing that would go out the window would be compassion or loving-kindness for myself. I would talk down to myself, judge myself, and in extreme cases, even hate myself. Yet this, in and of itself, is a violation of Right Speech, regardless of the fact that it was internal dialogue.

If anything, the internal dialogue is even more crucial because we are programming the cells of our body. You may already be familiar with Masaru Emoto’s study in which the molecular structure of water was changed when a positive or negative message was taped to its container. Positive messages (e.g. “Thank you”, “Love and Appreciation”) changed the molecular structure to snowflake-like crystals, while negative messages (e.g. “You make me sick”) clouded the water and structure. Whether you’re a believer or not in this, I do think it’s worthy to consider at the very least (“it” being that thoughts, words, ideas and music affect the molecular structure of water) especially given the fact that we humans are made up of 70% water.

So if you’ve spent years talking negatively to yourself, it may also take years to undo those messages. It can be an effortful process, but it is completely possible (I’m speaking from a few years of experience. In difficult times, compassion and loving-kindness have finally managed to stay). One of my teachers, Mark Coleman, describes this process as a block of ice around the heart. The more you practice, the more the ice around your heart melts, but you won’t really know it’s working until you break through the ice for the first time. It can take weeks, months, even years. When I say practice, it is simply repeating a few loving and positive phrases over and over. My go-to phrase (passed on to me by Mark Coleman) is “May I love and accept myself just as I am”.  You can use that phrase of any other phrase that is significant for you and your life.

One last thing I’d like to mention, that has helped me tremendously, is to tune into the mental dialogue enough to hear exactly who’s voice it is. It can be your mom’s, dad’s, grandparents’, siblings’, old lover’s, childhood friend’s, or anyone else. For example, the voice that has helped me thrive in some ways, and suffer in others,  I originally thought belonged to my dad. As I reflected more and listened more carefully, it wasn’t my dad’s voice, but was really my voice as a little girl, vying for my father’s attention (yes, daddy issues).

Figuring out who’s voice it was allowed me to target more specifically the internal dialogue (for example, I did the Forgiveness practice for my dad and Metta for myself as a little girl). It also gave me the space to ask myself “What is my intention?” before speaking, something I encourage you to try. There are many unique layers to working with Right Speech so be patient and, most of all, kind when working this.

On that note, I leave you with a quote from Friedrich Nietzsche. “Talking much about oneself can also be a means to conceal oneself.”

I had a thought the other day – I am officially a cryer. I have the urge to cry (and often times I actually do) for sad things, happy things, things that happen in my life, my friends’ life, or just in the world. For those who have met me in the past couple years, this may not seem like a surprise, but for those from way back when know that I would go long periods without crying, perhaps even years. At that point in time, I used to pride myself of the fact, but now being more open, and hence, a cryer, I realize that it was not something to be proud of. Not in any judgmental way, but rather because I realized that all that time, I was numb to the experiences of my life.

I can thank several factors for this, but namely my deepened Yoga and Meditation practice (and of course, my mentor’s obsession with intense backbends). As anyone who has embarked on this path can attest, it is a long and difficult process, but well worth it (and even that is a huge understatement). As Jack Kornfield says in his book A Path with Heart, “It is the place of feeling that binds or frees us.” He goes on to say that feelings control most of our inner life, yet we are unconscious of them. As a result, we have adapted a style of contraction and suppression in regards to our feelings. Unfortunately, “showing emotions” is not seemly for a man, and only certain emotions are allowed for women.

Some people might actually prefer not being in touch with their feelings, especially the negative ones. But as any Mind-Body worker can tell you, feelings get retained as memory – not just in the brain but all the way down to the cellular level. Repressed trauma caused by overwhelming emotion can be stored in a body part, affecting our ability to feel that part, or in more serious cases, even move it.

One important point often brushed off as untrue is that all honest emotions, regardless if they are perceived as positive or negative by societal standards, are positive emotions. We need anger to define boundaries, grief to deal with our losses, and fear to protect ourselves from danger. As leading Pharmacologist and researcher Candace Pert says in her book Molecules of Emotion, it’s only when these feelings are denied, not easily nor rapidly processed through the system and released, that the situation becomes toxic.

Toxic – This opens a whole can of worms, ranging from the six levels of disease in Ayurveda to Caroline Myss’ study in the field of energy medicine that shows how every illness corresponds to a pattern of emotional and psychological stresses, amongst other things. No matter how you look at it (at least from the Mind-Body perspective), holding in emotions is a no go.

‘What can we do?’ you ask, now knowing what you know? Well, the not-so-easy step would be to let the feelings pass through you. As my good friend says, “If you resist, it’ll persist. Let it go, it’ll flow.” Or better yet, we can do what American political journalist, author, professor and world peace advocate Norman Cousins suggests – laugh. According to him, laughter is like jogging for your insides, an exercise that keeps us in emotional shape.

With that being said, I leave you with one precious gift – a YouTube video on Laughing Yoga.

Imagine that you want to break open a coconut. Whether you break it open by lovingly knocking it over your knee, or with one forceful swipe of a machete, either way you look at it, the coconut is broken; the coconut is open. This is how my heart feels after my relationship of four and a half years ended not two weeks ago. Before you offer pity, pass judgment, cast blame, please don’t. Luckily, it ended with love, care, and respect. It was a beautiful relationship with a beautiful ending. This blog post is not to talk about and analyze the relationship, but rather to share my experience of moving through this difficult time with a broken, and open, heart.

(Writer’s note: By “open”, I don’t mean “Open for Business”, so please, no “nudge nudge wink wink”s.)

Some of you may be saying to yourself, “What a way to start the month of love – talking about losing it!” This post is, by no means, meant to put a damper on the sea of red presently in pharmacies, department stores, book stores, and Hallmark shops that you may adore. Really, I feel like it’s appropriate… Yes, some may consider February to be the month of love, so what better time to open yourself to the love around you?

After my break up, I felt so fragile, so raw, and as a result, more sensitive. My suffering kept me in the present moment like no other experience (other than meditation). From experience, I knew staying stuck in the past wouldn’t be helpful, nor hanging on to future false hopes, and of course, creating stories or replaying past experiences are also really not productive, so I almost welcomed how my pain kept me in the moment. Walking, holding this pain, letting it flow through me, forced me to slow down, and as a result, I became a tourist in my own city. In a beautifully painful way, I saw the sun in a new way, felt the cold air on my skin in a new way as I walked for hours outside (something I almost never do, unless it’s at least 25 above), and had become more sensitive to other people’s stories and situations.

Although I teach from where I am in my life and practice at that moment, I don’t often share intimate details about my life in class. I teach using general dharma terms. Never (or not in a while, anyway), had I received so much positive feedback, how students felt I was speaking to them specifically, and how it was helpful for exactly what they were living in that moment. This made me realize that love and suffering are universal concepts that everyone experiences. Everyone has felt love (or longs for it) and everyone has suffered (or is suffering).

One thing I feel is worthy to note is that love and suffering are relative. Whether you’re 6 years old, 30 years old, or 60 years old, it is still suffering, and can still be traumatic, regardless of your age. And as much as these universal concepts of love and suffering unite us, no-one really truly knows the dynamic of your relationship. Given that, I had friends ask me, “How can you not be angry?” Although I must agree that it is often easier to fixate on the negative and be angry, I was grateful that I wasn’t. I spent this past weekend on a silent meditation retreat and Matt Flickstein used a beautiful image of bungee jumping – even if we go into deep states of meditation (jumping off the high ledge), resentment and anger can pull us back to exactly where we began (the boing of the bungee cord). I’d rather take the 5 years of meditation and almost 100 nights in silent retreat that I’ve so far invested and put them to good use!

Staying with the discomfort of painful feelings, in my opinion, takes courage. Most people tend to push their suffering away because they feel it is or will be overwhelming. Although I’m right in the thick of it and I can’t say for sure, I do know that opening to the suffering is a lot less scary than I expected. We tend to take relationships, especially sexual and romantic relationships, very personal but as soon as you realize that you “simply” (another relative term) got caught in your partner’s suffering, you can be freed. Oddly enough, I find comfort in the “It’s not you, it’s me” phrase.

Also noteworthy is that being vulnerable is not a negative in any way, rather, it is a courageous act. I can only guess based on how I feel now that once you survive an extremely vulnerable experience, it becomes empowering. As one of my very good and supportive friends told me, “Sadness reminds us of our capacity to feel, and every feeling we have serves a purpose.”

With each New Year usually comes New Year’s Resolutions – a noteworthy concept but so rarely do they become a permanent change in our lives, which can lead to feelings of anger or disappointment. Why not try something new and different this year (or decade, for that matter!)? Resolve to Evolve – and trade in your goals for an intention.

Resolutions are great because they help provide us with a direction, but unfortunately, they’re a future objective. By definition, the very word “future” shows how they are not grounded in the present moment. With that being said, what happens if your resolution doesn’t pan out? Disappointment, confusion, or anger usually set in and without the proper tools, we are left with nothing to regain our mental footing.

This is where intentions come in. They are the underlying layer beneath our resolutions and they help us to reorient ourselves if our mind is confused with strong emotion. They also provide us with integrity and unity, and help us to be less reactive to the continuous fluctuations of life. Unlike goals, intentions are not future oriented, they are anchored in any present moment (key word being “any”, hence the itlaics and bold).

In practice, the same posture, the same sequence, the same meditation done with a different intention takes on an entirely new meaning and will have entirely different outcomes. Without a larger purpose we may be just stretching our hamstrings. But depending on our intention, we can be cultivating patience, compassion – anything we want.

What are intentions, you ask? They are phrases that are private and personal, and begin with the words, “May I…”. A common question I get is “Why ‘May I…’?” It’s not that we’re asking anyone permission to be a certain way, we are simply inviting our true nature to present itself. As with any invitation, we ask politely, as opposed to demanding its presence. Our intention does not need to be grandiose, but it does need to be sincere because it sets the stage for all that will follow.

We might have some guiding intention in our practice for months, if not years. or our intention may change from week to week.
Ironically, by being in touch with and acting from our true intentions, we become more effective in reaching our goals than when we act from wants and insecurities.

Remember! This practice is called a practice because it is an ever-renewing process. As with any spiritual discipline, the essence of intentions is our willingness to start over, and over, and over (and over) again. Every day of the year (even every moment) should be a day of resolution to live the life we want, not just on January 1st.

A few tricks I’ve tried in the past to help me integrate the practice of Intentions into daily life:
- Set a timer several times a day and when it goes off, repeat your intention (or simply set your watch to “beep” every hour)
- Stick Post-It notes in key places to remind you to repeat your intention (e.g. on your bathroom mirror, on the telephone, on the wall next to the front door)
- Ask yourself “What is my intention?” before speaking, especially when emotionally charged (from personal experience, this has saved me from many potential conflicts!)

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Inspirations:
The Energy of Money: A Spiritual Guide to Financial and Personal Fulfillment by Maria Nemeth Ph.D.
The Heart’s Intentions by Phillip Moffit
Bringing Yoga to Life: The Everyday Practice of Enlightened Living by Donna Farhi

Check out this article which lists the benefits of Yoga for children. Written by a dear student (Sarah Lolley) who had the chance to interview a great friend of mine, Yoga for Kids specialist, Jennifer Mallin (zenwithjenn.com).