Fast and Slow
I finally tracked my Mom down on Monday by way of calling her husband and asking him to make sure phoned me. My Mom gets into the habit of either a) not calling or b) avoiding calling me because she has bad news. Given the rather serious news she shared with us I was beginning to get worried having not heard from her in over two weeks. She'd also not returned a voice mail I'd left.
When she phoned she said she was doing OK. She doesn't see the opthamological oncologist at the Casey Eye Institute until the 20th. Having had cancer before she prefers to see an oncologist at Kaiser she's seen before, however, he's on sabbatical for February. She should him the first week of March.
There's all these ways in which I'd wish life would slow down. I find myself surprised that it is February. That it is 2009 seems fantastical at times. Whoosh! The weeks just fly by at an ever increasing clip. The precious hours of doing nothing but resting, enjoying some down time, I wish those times would lengthen out, get to where I can just linger.
Here I was on the phone whit Mom wishing those days and hours gone, done and at least some more information. I'm impatient with waiting for these appointments. This limbo state of
"tentative diagnosis" is uncomfortable and I feel my patience for life itself stretched thin with effort.
She apologizes for not checking in with me. A part of my mind observes how easy it is for her and I to live our very separate lives without talking often. She sometimes remarks at how I used to tell her everything. Only I didn't, but I don't break the fondness of her idealized memory. I am aware of the distance there is between us, the unresolved issues that will never know closure.
I am delighted to find out she is still trying to do Nadi Sodhana. She notes that she's practically stuck her finger in her nose a couple of times. I told her that concentration was the only fix for that problem.
I am truly delighted she is doing this and rather surprised. It is a bit strange, but she's really trying it out. I didn't actually think she'd do it without me there, that's why I'd been looking at recording myself guiding her through the breath practice. It is a pleasant shock to find out she's doing it on her own.
Grounded in Teaching
Had a great time at my class tonight. Only a couple of students showed up so I tried out the idea I'd had for a class that worked towards doing shoulder stand. I was amused to discover that after doing a series of forward bends and hip openers that my stretched leg was an inch longer than the un-stretched one! Confirmed how stiff I had felt last night after class certainly!
With just the three of us it was a small class with lots of time for questions. It was very comfortable and a lot of fun. I tried out the lift adjustment on a regular student who was there, it was a lot of fun to be able to assist someone further in shoulder stand. With it being just the two students it was very easy to check in with them both often.
The energy of a large group is fun, but it is very special to devote my attention to just a couple of people at a time. My Sunday class has become such a mix of students needing modifications and students who are more practiced that it was really nice having a easy night without a lot of modifications and the space to just flow through the whole class. I think it is the mix of Sunday that makes it challenging since I'm mindful of keeping things moving along for the students who have had more practice or are not injured.
I've noticed I feel a little tired after Sunday's class from the effort of keeping track of everyone. Not that it is bad, I don't feel drained or exhausted, just noticeably tired mentally. I feel the recharge of teaching, the way it is grounding to me. Just a bit tired from the extra effort to track so many different levels of practice at once. Even still, each class I teach grounds me in the conviction to teach more.
Speed and Slowness
I wanted to write a proposal for OSCON. Since it has been moved to San Jose I thought the best way to convince work to let me go again would be to be an invited speaker. I've talked about it since last year, giving a presentation either on change control or yoga. But the deadline is tomorrow and for the past couple of week's I've felt just entirely uninspired to come up with anything at all.
Tonight I feel burned out and exhausted. We went to have all the dissolution (divorce) paperwork reviewed and discovered we'd done such a good job it was pretty much ready to file, minus a couple of check boxes and final signatures. Suddenly the clerk was saying to us, "and you can go around the corner to the cashiers and pay the filing fee..."
There we were. So we shrugged and nodded, stepped over and paid to file all the paperwork. I'd been so stressed just going to have it reviewed, I figured there would be things missing and we'd have to take care of them first. In fact I hadn't listed the complete legal description of the house, but the clerk just had me phone over to the County Assessors office to get the information. Done. He commented on how quick this would be, the job we'd done was very thorough . I felt a little tight with shock at the unexpected speed.
Finally talked with my Mom some more today. Nothing but waiting -- she doesn't see the specialist at the eye institute until the 20th and won't see the Kaiser oncologist for her right lung until the beginning of March. I feel impatient for her to be seen, to have confirmation or perhaps the knowledge she doesn't have cancer (wild optimism).
It was a lousy day too. I am so keenly feeling the pressure from all of this already and today was yet another day that started with a panicked jolt at 5AM followed by dozing off for another two hours. I just don't feel like I'm resting, my brain is back to busy, anxious dreams so I wake up feeling just as tired as when I went to bed. On top of it I'm taken aback by both the quickness of something and slowness of others -- in quite the opposite arrangement than I'm comfortable with.
I am just going to give up the idea. I'm enjoying the ideas I'm sharing with someone from Dharma Rain Zen Center to offer teaching on yoga and meditation to the Portland tech community. I like the idea of it, but I think just letting it go this year is for the best for me. Maybe I'll work on something for the local conference and next year propose for OSCON, maybe there will even be a travel budget again by then.
JW told all of the teacher training students on Saturday that our homework this week was to do something nice for ourselves. She said it especially applied to me, that I am the worst of everyone. Practicing self-compassion is not my strong suit. The past several days have been an on-going reminder about it. Maybe letting go of some of the things I want to do, like submitting a proposal for OSCON, are part of practicing doing something for myself. Not sure JW would think it counts, but cutting myself some slack without judgement is so contrary for my usual behavior I feel how it counts.
The Ninth Precept
A part of the work towards taking Jukai in October I am supposed to make a mental notes to review the precepts each day. Not for any opportunity to judge myself, encouraging my Inner Critic to point out all the ways I fail the precepts. Rather just to keep them close, learn from them.
In looking at the ninth precept, "Not to give vent to anger, but to seek its source.", I've tried to beyond the obvious fierce rage. Instead I've tried to play close attention to all the little ways frustration comes to the surface. How at work my teammates and I even call it "venting" when you just need to have someone let you complain. Let off some of the pressure of a situation by talking about it. I've come to see how this is can be a method of seeking the source so long as the frustration being shared is done so with the intention of also examining why it is so present.
I had an unexpected way to look at frustration and anger arising in myself a couple of weeks ago while I was in the car and headed over to the house. We'd made a detour and had turned around to make sure we would come down MLK in order to stop by the bank. Those few minutes of detour meant that we were on the stuck side of a parade turning onto MLK from Killingsworth.
Not so bad, right?
Except it was a pro-life protest march.
In the car in front of us a dog barked in great agitation at all the people marching by "his" car. He jumped up and down against the window. We sat silently in the car and I felt my anger rising up to the surface. At some point it occurred to me that my mind, in it's agitated state, was just making noise like the dog.
"Just how much is this police escort costing my taxes?"
"How could they bring their children along?"
"How dare they impede my busy day with an opinion I vehemently disagree with!"
"Why did we have to make that detour, if we'd gone right the first time we'd have been past this!"
All of it just so much barking! I started to watch the anger I felt, where it traced back to. It was hard. It is far easier to just stay angry, to let frustration and indignation boil over. It is so warm and energizing, enticing to just cozy up around that energy. The choice to trace that energy down and see the fear and uncertainty laid bare takes a great deal more effort.
By the time the very last marcher had turned south onto Killingsworth I could be more honest, more compassionate. No, not that I agree with any of them at all, not even close. What I am glad is that the police would block traffic if I were to march to express my opinion, regardless of how popular my opinion is, or is not. That is part of the service to the community, to ensure the right to assemble and express opinions.
Some deep breaths and willingness to deeply look and I found a little calm in a present moment I didn't enjoy. Although I cannot come to any agreement or even true understanding of the pro-life marchers, I could agree with the idea of upholding the right to express opinions. At times what I can hold to is the common desire of all beings to be heard. I may passionately not want to hear opinions from every being, wanting to close myself off in the strength of my disagreement, but I can move beyond that in understanding of the desire to express and be listened to.
Gratitude
Tonight I was in a rush to leave the office, to walk to the flat, to feed Atari, and rush over to SE to meet CK and DTH for dinner. I had planned to not rush, but got caught up in finishing setting up some things at work for one of my projects, ran late and then was rushing.
I was walking very quickly and felt tense with trying to remember what I needed to do. By the time I got to the flat from MAX my right knee ached. I changed into "zendo clothes" and rushed off to Belmont to have dinner. As I parked it hit me that I'd forgotten my zafu, wagessa (a small cloth "scarf" I wear to signify that I've taken the first five of the 16 Precepts), and a little flax seed pillow I use to support my hands. These are not minor things to forget.
During dinner, which was a lot of fun, I felt myself stiffening up. My knee and my hips ached. I took some ibuprofen when we got to the Dharma Center, hoping it would help. I tried to walk evenly, but felt myself favoring my right leg a lot.
At the Dharma Center there's extra zafus around, even of the inflatable type I have that was made at Great Vow. I popped up to the zendo when we got there and set up my spot with a zafu I adjusted until it was the same amount of air as mine and a bench, so I can switch if my hip gets too sore. I set my wrap down on CK's zafu and went back downstairs.
HB caught me before I was going up with one directive for the chanting I'd do later, "Sweetly." he said smiling.
I laughed and said I was trying. He noted the progress I've made from rushing anxiously through the chanting service, now he wanted me to work on bringing sweetness to it, treating the sutras with affection and care in addition to precision and projection.
Then I headed up to sit. Only the zafu I'd set up for myself was gone. I quickly looked at the shelf at the back and didn't see another inflatable one. This set off some worry in my heart. The last time I'd tried to sit without an inflatable zafu my legs fell asleep and I had hip cramps from the pressure on my sciatic nerve. I dashed downstairs quick and HB spotted me. I noted quickly that someone had grabbed my zafu.
HB and I have discussed how to manage my chronic leg, hip and back pain during zazen and part of that management is an inflatable zafu. He and I both looked around the downstairs and didn't spot one!! He ducked into the teacher's room, came out with some of the zafus he & CB use, we sorted out the right one for me to take, I quickly went back upstairs and settled myself down.
After the bells finished I took some deep breaths to settle myself after the rushing around, so much rushing tonight! As I started to settled down my mind finally hit upon my teacher giving me one of their cushions to use. I suddenly found myself in tears.
I think it is more of that perspective shift. I was suddenly struck with profound gratitude and love for the community I have around me now, I see how it continues to include me and provide support. I have never felt the support of an organized group like this. I've always felt a bit on the outside. To feel this way provides as disorientating shift in view where I can suddenly grasp the profound lack of this kind of community I've felt. Hence the tears.
Normal
On Sunday during Sanzen I told HB about my Mom, about the two possible cancers. As we talked about it he reminded me that this is "normal", it is normal for me to be coping with my Mother's ill-health. It was something I really had to sit with for several days, this shifting in the concept of normal.
I talked with GM today during our session. She found it very interesting, HB pointing me to the normal-ness of the situation and yet I feel sorrow overwhelming me at times. I feel just pummeled by what feels like an unending litany of pain both present and past. CK commented to me this evening how deeply someone can be affected when they grow up with their primary caregiver gravely ill. When she wasn't ill I was unsupported in other ways. None of it good.
GM surprised me today by commenting that each time she sees me I look younger, lighter in energy. She liked the sweater I was wearing and noted the energy in the colors and pattern of it, how it suited who I am now. Finally she that I looked happy.
I pointed to the grief.
And she agreed there is a lot of it and probably more to come. She noted that in my practice I have cultivated far better tools for working through it. What we eventually came around to what that the support and love I feel now, regardless off it being in the middle of chaos going on around me, has given me a huge perspective shift. I suddenly can gauge the enormity of the grief and fear I felt, particularly as a child when I was expressly forbid from expressing it or punished when I did show it.
My childhood was a near-constant state of extreme tension, fear, uncertainty, and anxiety. Broken up with long periods of being grounded, which was peaceful since I generally passed the time reading. The adults around me weren't supportive in the ways they really needed to be and seethed with anger at most times, always kept just below the surface and let out in vicious, small sentences. And Mom was ill, so often. So many doctor's visits, hospital rooms, and the raw fear of losing my only parent.
That was "normal".
Not that it was good or that I should rejoice over any of the awfulness, it was just my version of normal. I didn't really come to figure out until my 20s just how different my concept of normal was. As I mentioned to CK tonight, I thought it was perfectly normal not have the ability to recall most of my childhood.
To have a relationship that is truly nurturing and mutually supportive feels so unusual from what I'm used to that I feel somewhat destabilized by it. It creates this enormous perspective shift and I suddenly can gauge what merely felt bad was actually horrible. With this shift it seems like I'm being closed in on by all the grief I lacked the clarity to see before.
Just a Tuesday
Nothing but the buzz of irritation today, especially during the day. I went into the office for the first time in ages and it was tough being around people. I've been so used to being on my own during the day that it felt difficult to integrate with co-workers and hard to focus on the work I need to get done.
Let a message for Curtis about changing my Tuesday evening class to a 6PM start time. Have had feedback from Sunday students that they would like to come Tuesdays, but it is just too difficult to make it there at 5;45. This shouldn't be a problem. The front desk person (kicking myself for drawing a blank on her name) even noted I should just tell people next week that we're moving the time and when people call to register the front desk crew will just tell them.
Friends from college and I are discussing trying to get everyone together within the next two years. Not really associated with Beloit, just getting a group of us together to catch up, play games, and meet families. It is a bit strange to be reconnecting with everyone after so many years, not in a bad way, just part of the general oddness of reconnecting with myself again.
I had intended to start work on the homework I have due on Saturday but instead enjoyed watching the rest of 'The Giant Buddhas'. It is a really marvelous documentary about the destruction of the sculptures at Bamiyan and the efforts to make a memorial there. Rather sadly we discover that a memorial, and being declared a World Heritage Site means the displacing of people who had lived in the caves for generations. The film also takes us to the Kabul Museum -- very sad to see the extent of destruction, but still inspiring to see efforts to restore the cultural heritage of Afganistan.
More Metta
I feel like I'm slowly pulling myself back towards practice -- sitting, writing. Last night during sanzen Hogen reminded me of doing Metta practice for myself when I was talking to him about my Mom. He said to avoid the spiraling grief, as a way anchor myself to positive practice, I needed to focus on doing Metta for myself, most importantly myself.
I had done Metta in desperation the last time my mind stumbled across horrible realization during zazen. I'd been amazed at how well I could stay with myself that time. It had been the first time I was able to do Metta for myself and it made me feel like I could stay on my cushion, not break down crying, screaming or running.
Hogen talked about there being the well of universal grief, all of us share parts in it. Whenever we experience the many sorrows of our human lives we are part of that grief. I can very easily turn towards all of that grief, focus my energy on generating compassion to all the people suffering. Turning away from my own suffering, refusing to face it. In doing so I do not offer the same love and compassion to myself that I easily can offer to others.
He brought me back to the instruction of loving-kindness for myself. That I must learn how to do this practice, whatever it takes. Start by focusing my energy on someone I genuinely love, really touch that love and then switch that energy to my face. Laughing he said even if I had to imagine the most adorable puppy ever, then put a photograph of my face on the puppy's head. Or the sweetest kitten, "With Sherri's nose ring!" he said.
Even I had to laugh at Hogen coming up with the image of a fuzzy kitten with my nose ring. He urged me to think of this, to find some way to make myself recipient of the love and compassion I so easy turn outwards. That he said is how I need to practice with the grief, to keep working with the awful intensity of it that just seems to keep building up.
A Gift of Sharing Pain
It has been a week since I saw my Mom, gauged the depth of fear in her eyes. I have been trying very hard not to freeze up myself in fear. I've also been trying not to fall deeply into any kind of blaming or anger as AM & I move towards our divorce. It has been especially difficult since I was already really feeling a lot of hurt and anger around that relationship so adding the worry about Mom has felt very hard. I've tried to create space for myself, letting go of even more of the things I think I need to do.
Going to sign the paperwork for the divorce really unsettled me a lot this past week. That it included a discussion around finance made it feel especially difficult. All the choices I made two and a half years ago, counting on things staying the same, don't make as much sense now. I keenly feel the weight of the debt I am in and it is painful.
After signing things the tension between AM and I was pretty great. We ended up having a painful discussion about the ways in which we've both been let down by the other. In the end it doesn't change anything, I'm still a lesbian who needs to not be married to a man any longer, but perhaps it was good for us both to let the light into the shadows between us.
I really want to see AM succeed and I don't think he would have done so with me. It is painful to think about and hard not to resent. I see him making efforts now that we're in the process of a divorce that I've wanted to see him make all along. As happy as I am that he's had any kind of catalyst in his life, it hurts that it couldn't have happened when I was there to appreciate it with him - as selfish as that sounds.
He's angry that my promise that he matter, he was different, was wrong. AM understands that at the time I made that promise, I meant it. That I continued to want it to be true, was unwilling to see that it wasn't earlier because I love him and don't want to hurt him at all. I wanted to not him more than I wanted to acknowledge that I felt hurt knowing that I was unsatisfied with him and unsatisfying to him.
That was Tuesday and after that painful conversation I had to pull myself together to go teach yoga. I was hugely relieved when only one student showed up, a student who's game for anything she can learn. It made it easier for me to only have to pull my attention to the present for one other person.
During that private class this student revealed to me that some of her neck and shoulder tension arises out of being abused as a child. I felt silenced by her sharing, touched that she felt comfortable sharing with me. After what felt like some long moments I revealed to her that for me the fear from abuse settled into my hips and lower back. We worked on gentle ways to get her shoulders to open and on some breath. I made sure to thank her for being willing to share with me and for letting me learn from her as well.
The power of yoga to settle one into the body in compassion and awareness is why I think it will be helpful to teach it to people recovering from trauma. This act of open sharing with my student, coming after such an emotionally raw day, helped me feel grounded and focused. It is a path of deeply knowing the body from the inside out and inviting compassion to flower for the body, the self.
A lot times I don't feel capable of teaching in this capacity. I'm afraid that in the middle of a workshop I'd start crying uncontrollably, overcome with grief and fear. I doubt my ability to teach and question if I am stepping beyond the boundaries of being a yoga teacher, assuming some kind of knowledge of psychotherapy when I clearly lack that training.
The act of sharing with my student on Tuesday showed me that I was safe. I was able to reveal my own PTSD and abuse to someone else and have it be met with acceptance and compassion. I was able to hear someone else and respond with love, gentleness. I am reminded that I know the asana and pranayama that help with PTSD on an intimate level. I do not offer counseling, I merely offer the space for emotions to arise, a container for the pain, and quiet space in which to observe that pain & cultivate compassion right where it hurts most.
The Brightness of Day
It has felt like an especially long week where I have felt guilty for my inattention to the present, especially to people, and feeling like my emotions are right up near the surface is very challenging to me. It can be very difficult for me to be alright with needing people, with needing support.
I am far more comfortable giving support and strength to someone than I am at receiving it. I try to be mindful that my opening up to receiving creates space for another person to practice giving, but it is still very challenging for me. I often feel like I am imposing on someone else when I am not capable of being strong and giving all the time so it makes it even more difficult to ask for support and care, even when I really need it.
One place that helps me practice are the times when my yoga students tell me the appreciate something I've taught them. It is still actually uncomfortable, receiving praise, but since it is a result of something I've done it feels easier to work with than accepting support. What it makes me realize at times, like today, is how accepting praise gratefully and gracefully offers me support in my life as well.
Today's all-levels class at Dishman posed several challenges. My body ached this morning and really didn't want to have to leave the cozy comfort of the flat. When I did arrive to Dishman one of my regular students revealed his newly broken right wrist, left elbow, pulled right hamstring, and a scrape the size of a poker chip on the left knee! I inquired if he was certain he should be there, but he assured me he wanted to be there. Everyone else arrived to reveal they felt cold, tired and "curmudgeonly". A newer student arrived who is very new to yoga asana and isn't really in is body yet, so it is extra work to help him into correct alignment. What a mix!
Looking around at all of them I announced we'd do some gentle stretches to open the legs and back, some twists to wring all that cold energy out, and we'd do a lot more breath work, Pranayama. Everyone seemed fine with that and I led them through some basic seated asana, a twist, then we sat doing Viloma breathing for a while before some time for meditation.
During this time I decided to practice in an area that's not the most comfortable for me -- guided visualization. I don't do well with visualizations or counting when I meditate. Any mental activity related to cognitive thought sets me off and I think, think, think, think, think! Nothing but monkey mind, a whole roomful of monkeys analyzing, computing, theorizing. Because of this I focus my attention on my diaphragm and the movement of breathing there.
With this bias I know that I most often teach mindful breathing, of following the breath into the body. During this time I will remind my students to just be aware of a thought arising, notice it, "Hey, there I am thinking again." and let it go, return to the sensation of breath. Sometimes I add the suggestion from Thich Nhat Hahn to mindfully label the breaths. I'll suggest that the mind's activity merely identify, "This is me breathing a long, deep breath in. This is me breathing a long, deep breath out. This is me breathing a short breath in. This is me breathing a short breath out."
I admit I'm biased so today I decided to add a visualization in there, one that Joy's taught us and I've heard before elsewhere. I suggested to everyone that they imagine their minds as a deep, blue, clear, still lake. Whenever a thought came up, just see it as a bubble rising to the surface of the lake and popping there. Watch the ripples from that arising thought move towards shore, how they get further and further apart until the lake surface is calm, still again.
We then moved through three different asana to awaken and strengthen the core abdominal muscles. With that heat and awareness built I seated everyone again to do Kabalabhati. I was pleased that this time I was able to stay more focused on what I'd be teaching next -- the first time I tried teaching this I was energized but distracted! Everyone came up into Bridge pose to lengthen out the muscles of the abdomen after working so hard. A few half salutes to shake out the body, Tree pose, ending with their choice of Down Dog or half forward bend at the wall, a supine twist and savasana. During savasana I invited them to return to the visual of their mind as a lake.
It was probably the fewest poses I've taught in a class that wasn't designated as a 'restorative' class, but no one seemed to mind at all. Afterward people commented on feeling very good, stiffness wrung out a bit, and the mental cobwebs clear. The student with the injuries especially said it had felt very good to him. He noted that people had asked him in surprise about his coming to yoga, having injured himself on Monday, but he said to me that he'd told them he knew that I'd be able to come up with something for him! Talk about my student having greater confidence in me than I do!
Another gift was from my student who is the most new to yoga and is still learning how to feel his body, be in his body. He said that he has a hard time with the breathing and meditation, but today's class focusing on those things really helped him a lot. He said the visualization of his mind as a still lake just rang true for him. That visualization, which doesn't work well at all for me, was an "Ah-ha!" moment for him. He suddenly understood and connected to the concept of watching his thoughts arise, not getting caught up in the thought, and letting the mind settle again. He left class telling me what good teacher I was, that my ability to teach him despite his confusion, stiffness, and distraction made him feel safe learning something very new and uncomfortable.
Wow. Talk about shining some pretty bright lights in my little corner of the world!
When my students tell me things like this I feel so deeply humbled by it. I've often said that I when I teach Hatha Yoga I feel like I am merely a conduit for the 5000+ plus years yoga has been practiced. I merely am the vehicle for a long lineage of teaching. A student recognizing me, the person teaching, for skillful instruction is such a precious affirmation of my ability to rise to the challenge each class presents. The idea that I personally help them to know compassion and comfort in their body, regardless of the ease or dis-ease in that body, is incredibly precious.
In honor of the brightness brought into my life by sharing Hatha Yoga with students I titled this entry after one of Alphonse Mucha's paintings, The Brightness of Day