A lot can happen in a week, especially when not much "happens".  We live in an area that has been hit hard by Hurricane Sandy.  I went back and re-read my last blog post and so many things about it seem frivolous in light of the week we all just experienced.  Who cares about yoga pants, board games, and foot massages when homes are destroyed, lives are lost, and productivity grinds to a halt.  Yes, I was advocating "slowing it down", but I didn't mean for it to STOP.  My usual productivity stopped, so not much "happened", but I feel like so much is different this week from my Pollyanna attitude of last week.

One of many fallen trees has ripped down
power lines, blocked sidewalk,
obstructed road

Yes, a lot happened.  This is the first time I've sat in front of a computer in a week.  All of my "news" has been local - obtained from the Facebook feed on my phone.  Yes, I know, first world problems, but I truthfully kept it all in perspective, and didn't complain - or at least tried not to.  I was "inconvenienced" by Hurricane Sandy. Our house came away relatively unscathed.  A few branches fell, our home had no structural damage (as we have been able yet to determine), and we have a gas hot water heater with a gas pilot.  While we lost electricity, we had hot water at home and could shower.  A mere block away, families lost half of their homes because massive trees fell and crushed them.  Given that, I'd say me without a computer is a mere inconvenience.

We had lots of candles on-hand, so dinnertime was "romantic".  Well, those dinners we actually ate at home were candle-lit, because we were so fortunate to have wonderful friends who opened their homes to us for meals, device-charging, and warmth.  We only ate evening meals at our house twice throughout the 5 days we were without power.  One friend lent us a camping lantern, and that's when my "pioneering" instincts kicked in.  On our walks home, I would tell the boys to gather downed sticks and branches for fireplace kindling.  My husband, who never camped a day in his life (putting up a tent in February with your fraternity brothers, building a huge bonfire, and getting completely drunk until you pass out in front of said fire doesn't count as "camping") wondered, "What the heck is that crazy broad up to now?"  We used matches to light the burners on our gas stove so we could cook up food before it went bad.  Luckily, our fridge wasn't overflowing with food, so this was manageable.  We monitored the freezer contents, and as something thawed out on it's own, we figured out what we could make with it, and ate it.  If someone invited us for dinner, we brought whatever was thawed.  It was turkey burgers one night, beef another night, shrimp a third night - we didn't fare too badly.  We also have eaten more meat than I've eaten in many weeks, so I feel like I've actually been overindulgent.  Let's not even mention the mounds of Hallowe'en candy I've eaten.

A home (and 2 cars) crushed by fallen trees.

So, within a week, my mindset has completely shifted.  Instead of wondering how many emails I'll send in a day, when I'll be able to browse the internet for more yoga pants, when I'll be able to hit the gym, what night I'll be able to catch up on my DVR, I needed to wonder about other things.  With electricity removed from my life, I had to wonder about how long I could go without doing laundry and how I could work out the logistics once it was time to do laundry.  I had to plan out when and what path to walk home from friends' houses because without streetlights to guide us, it was really unsafe.  There was no "work" for a week, but before people think it was a vacation, it was anything BUT.  I may not have created lessons, graded papers, or interacted with students, but I certainly worked: keeping in touch with friends via text messages, updating my family who were unable to reach us by landline, reading info feeds on Facebook that reported news of damage cleanup around our area, not to mention the fact that everything takes twice as long when you don't have electricity.  By the end of the day, I was more exhausted than I usually am after a full day of work.  I'm sure the emotional toll had an effect, but I slept soundly for 8 hours a night (maybe it was SO cold in our house that my body went into hibernation mode.)

In the past week, you could say "nothing happened" in the sense that I wasn't productive my usual way, but a lot happened, including surviving a hurricane and changing my perspective.  I'm so grateful for the small losses we had to help us notice and appreciate the bigger picture.

Thank you for reading.
Namaste. 

The "Regulars"

I need to take more yoga classes.   In fact, I need to attend 60 classes over the course of my training program (8 classes to observe, 52 to actually practice).  Prior to joining this teacher training program, I did not often practice at the studio where the training takes place.  I did most of my classes at the gym.  At a gym, you have a few "loyal" yogis, but nothing like the regulars you find in a studio class:  yogis who are there week in, week out, who know one another's names, the teacher knows their quirks and preferences, they have their "spots" in the room, their rapport with one another.  When you're not a regular and you "pop in" to the class,  you're not really an interloper (yoga is very embracing), but you might as well be, because you aren't sure where to put your mat, you don't know the next person's name, and you certainly don't get the inside jokes from last week.

I would venture to say that the majority of women in our training cohort are accustomed to taking higher-level yoga classes.  We may frequent a level 1 class, but most of us are probably at home in a level 2...a disciplined few in a level 3.  But when you start out teaching yoga, you don't  launch as a level 2 teacher.  You have to begin with the basics and work your way up, therefore, we are required to take at least half of our 60 classes in a level 1 setting.  We are supposed to pay attention to the language, the postures, the pacing, the modifications.  Yoga is such a discipline that this act of taking level 1 classes is not a "step backwards"...it's not "too easy"  or "too simple". There is always something to learn and observe, and sometimes we do our best observing when we slow things down.

Today, I had to leave work early for an appointment, and I ended up (fortuitously!) with just enough time to squeeze in a Level 1 practice today.  It was listed on the studio schedule as "Extra Gentle".  In the car on the way over to the studio, I wondered who would be taking a yoga class in the middle of the day and I wondered what the pacing for an Extra Gentle class would be like.  I have found that timing is everything when considering who will be in on the mat next to you.  Super-early morning classes (6 am) tend to have mostly women students who are getting a jump start on their day before work.  9/9:30 classes tend to be mostly stay-at-home or work-from-home parents who have time for a yoga class after nursery school drop off or morning carpool routes are finished (again, mostly women).  Afternoon classes have a good mix of college students who are done with classes for the day,  and working people who take a class on their way home from work.  Evening and weekend classes are where you have your best chances of finding men, although still not many, and the classes can range from deep stretching postures to something more athletic that works up the desired sweat.  But who is taking a yoga class right in the middle of the day?  In NYC, probably young professionals on their lunch break.  In the suburbs? It's older ladies - ah ha - the "extra gentle" is starting to make sense.

Since we need to attend so many Level 1 classes, there just so happened to be 4 of our cohort in today's "extra gentle" class...and the rest of the class (the Regulars) had us beat by at least 20 years.  They all knew one another's names, knew one another's "drams", were comfortable offering up advice, lively chatting away in the hallway before class started.  They clearly had their "spots" in class, and some were even a tiny bit fa-tootsed (sp?) by the extra 4 people taking up precious floor space.  They knew whose mat went where, and at one point, there was an unclaimed mat, and it took several minutes of banter to figure out that someone had left the mat from the class before, and it actually belonged to no one (the nerve of someone to take up floor space like that!)

Let's be clear:  I'm not relaying this story out of judgement or condemnation, but more out of mild amusement.  I can clearly see some of their habits becoming annoying over time (yelling out in the middle of the class: "I have no idea what we are doing right now!" and the teacher patiently, gently responding, "We're just lifting our shoulders.  I know you can do that.").  Nevertheless, these were the Regulars of the Thursday midday class, and maybe their instructor sees these quirks as endearing, maybe she embraces the dynamic of the group, which clearly is comforting enough to say what you feel whenever you need to say it.  

It definitely made me wonder what the Regulars of my eventual yoga class will be like.  I'll need to make a lot of professional decisions:  Will I like my class to be more stretching, or more athletic?  What will I do if my regulars start talking to one another in the middle of my instruction?  Will I teach in the mornings, afternoons, or evenings?  How will I begin to captivate a class so that they actually WANT to become my regulars?  I'm going to need to be engaging from the start to build a group as loyal as the one I was part of today.

I am a LONG way from establishing a regular class...but ever the planner, it is something for me to keep stewing on the back burner while I continue my journey.  Every so often, I'll lift the lid of the pot and take a peek, even stir a little, but for now, I think I'd better take a lot more level 1 classes and worry about refining my practice before I start worrying about who I'm going to teach.

Relish the quiet bliss that comes with aging gracefully (and getting on the mat can help with that!)  Yoga is for everyBODY.

"Big" Birthdays

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Soon, my mother is about to turn 60 (like, tomorrow).  That's a pretty big birthday.  It's not the biggest she or I would ever like to celebrate, but it's a big deal.  These days, though, 60 is positively "young" - Tom Cruise is just 10 years younger than that, and he's still doing hard-core action films.  Madonna is closer to 60 than she is to 50 (I think), and she's still traipsing around stage dressed like a "Carnival Stripper" (thanks, Elton John, for that spot-on analogy!), and don't get me started on the Stones and McCartney.  Some of my friends have siblings who are close to 60, and when I mention my mother is not even 60 yet, they can't believe how young she is (do I look THAT old, that you can't believe I would have a mom who is just turning 60?)

I don't have a "girlfriendy" relationship with my mother - partly a result of distance (we live about 3 hours apart - she, comfortably ensconced in the rural parts of NJ, me, happily running the rat race outside of NYC), but I think it's moreso a result of my independent nature, even from a young age.  Imagine a newly-married 21 year-old (gosh she was young!), excited about the birth of her first baby, looking forward to the cuddling and care-giving, only to find this baby fiercely willful and wanting to do her own thing.  Not long after, followed another baby; a "cuddler" - you know, one of those babies who never wants to be put down.  Ever.  That was my sister.  So there's my 23 year-old mother chasing down a 2 year old who liked to throw the contents of the medicine cabinet into the tub and mix everything up (hey, it was the 70's - before childproof caps!) while trying to placate the screaming 5 month old on her hip.  Next day, said 2 year old decides to climb into the crib and wake the baby from her nap by smearing her (and the walls) with peanut butter.  Man, I can't believe my mom didn't give me away after that.  She probably tried, but no one was stupid enough to fall for it.

This isn't anything several of us hasn't experienced, believe me.  Except my mom followed up with 2 more kids!  My dad was not a banker or highly paid attorney.  There were no nannies or mother's helpers.  There was no grandma around to help out - my parents moved away from their families in western PA when I was 4 or 5, to NJ, where we had no relatives nearby.  In fact, there wasn't even a station wagon!  When my brother was born (I was soon to turn 6) my parents had to buy a "bigger" car - a Ford LTD sedan (you read that right.  A sedan). We picked one in baby blue, because we had a new baby boy.  Not even 30, with 3 kids, my mom couldn't be a stay-at-home mom anymore, so she went back to work.  Except she had to work at night because my dad worked during the day.  And then she had another baby.  I was in 6th grade, had just turned 12, and my mom was probably shitting a brick.  33 years old with 4 kids!  

There are times growing up, especially as a selfish, whiny teen with no concept of the way the world works, where I thought my parents were unfair to me for having so many kids.  I wasn't able to go to sleep away camp.  We didn't go to Disney World every year like my friends did.  In order to go on the Latin trip to Italy, I had to raise my own money by selling M&Ms (that was A LOT of M&Ms.  I "sold" a lot to myself.  I was quite chubby to prove it!).  I remember my mom being my age now, getting ready to send her oldest daughter off to college.  My dad packed my every last belonging into our car (still no station wagon...by that time, he had upgraded to a Buick), and when we arrived on campus 6 hours later, he phoned home to let my mom know we had arrived.  She replied that the new "guest room" was finished!  I never lived home again after that.
Knowing what I know now, I no longer think my mom was unfair; I think my mom was brave (and maybe a lil' bit crazy).  Growing up, it never seemed like she sacrificed much to raise us, but it's glaringly apparent now that she sacrificed an awful lot to raise four kids (especially a pain in the ass like me).  There were probably lots of times that she wanted to have "date night" with her hubby, or go on a "girls weekend getaway" with one of her sisters.  Times where she wanted to go new clothes shopping instead of grocery shopping (again).  She probably wanted a cleaning lady to help out, but she had none of that.  Sure, she cajoled us into helping out now and again, but I know what my sister's bedroom looked like, and lots of those battles were losing ones.

It wasn't all doom-and-gloom raising us.  I know that there have been many, many rays of sunshine in her first 60 years, but my greatest wish for my mom's next 60 years is that they are filled with so much sun that she's gotta wear shades - and I hope they are the biggest, coolest, most stylish shades she can find!
Happy Birthday, Mom!  I know you never, ever read my blog, but I love you and I can't wait to celebrate your birthday with you tomorrow.
xxoo.

A little something different...

To say that I've been doing a lot of yoga this summer is a bit of an understatement.  Last Summer, I tried doing a "week of yoga" - where I would practice for 7 days in a row.  I wanted to see how I felt, to see if my body began to be transformed, to see if I became more committed (or worse, addicted!).  At the end of the week, I had managed to take 5 days of gym yoga classes and 2 days of home practice with DVDs, and while I was proud of myself, I didn't experience any magical transformations.  Maybe a little more sore in my shoulders, but I didn't suddenly have flat abs and amazing shoulders.  That sort of thing takes years of dedicated practice...not a solid week.  I can report that I felt more relaxed and centered, and realized how important yoga is to me...so perhaps I renewed my commitment to the mat, and yes, started an addiction.

This summer, in light of the fact that I am starting Yoga Teacher Training in a few short weeks, I set a new goal for myself:  To try as many different classes as possible this summer.  There are my faves - the gym standbys - and I make time for them every week (as long as I'm not in Paris!) because I simply can't make their classes when I'm working.  I have no idea if Josh and Heidy feel a bit happier when I show up with my mat, but I certainly am happy and grateful to be able to be there!  I'm also branching out and trying new teachers, new studios, and new classes!  I've done Iyengar, Hatha, Restorative, Vinyasa, and now "Family Yoga"!

A new studio opened in my town, and while it is technically a "Wellness Center" - offering a variety of "mindful" experiences (Meditation, Kirtan, Nutritional counselling, eco-crafts, etc) - yoga is the main focus.  There's teen yoga, yoga camp for kids, mixed level, restorative, vinyasa, and FAMILY YOGA!  I convinced my husband to join me and the boys for this fun, 45-minute practice.  It certainly was something different!

The main focus of Family Yoga was to introduce smaller people and their grownups to the practice and benefits of yoga.   The obvious benefits are easily understood by the grownups, but kids may be too "literal" to understand abstract benefits like improved focus, better balance, a more "centered" and "present" mind, so this was introduced to them through a series of fun postures and games on the mat.  There was no "organized" flow - instead, the practice was very organic.  The instructor (who happens to be a co-owner of the studio) skillfully led us through a few postures and when it was time to be silly, she let it happen.  When it was time to re-center, she made fun games to bring us back to attention.  This was great for my 5 year old, who can be a bit spontaneous and is not always the best listener.  My 8 year old had practiced before, and happily followed along.  My main concern was Husband, who sees me doing yoga videos in the living room, and was a bit unsure of how he was going to balance in Half-moon or Warrior 3.  He's not exactly the "patient" type, either, and that's a big part of a yoga practice.  Naturally, I was worried he might not like it.

After the class was over, I realized that my worries were for nil.  I'm not saying that Husband is going to jump right in and start yoga teacher training with me, but I can say that a good time was had by all!  It felt wonderful to support a new small business in town, but it felt amazing to share my love of yoga with my family.  The time spent together, parent and child, on the mat was precious. Helping one another into postures and interacting together in a gentle, physical way was time well-spent!  With time and regular practice, I can envision my spontaneous 5 year old building better listening skills.  Perhaps my 8 year old will become more confident.  Maybe, just maybe, I can see Husband becoming more patient.  What is for sure is the bond we build as we spend focused, family-centered time together will only become stronger!

Gratitude

See that word over there? <---  It means "contentment" - something that I think I will be struggling with for a very long time.  Then again, what life is there without struggle?  Does struggle make life worth living?  Such a silly question, because I can think of many people who struggle a whole lot more that I do, and does that make their life worth more than mine?  I know a great many people who seem to struggle a whole let less than I do, and I'm pretty sure it doesn't make their life worth less.  I think the question I mean to ask is "what is a life without struggle?"  Is it a life with contentment?  But that's what I'm struggling with!  ...Aha, you begin to see my conundrum...
Nonetheless, sometimes things don't quite go the way I plan them (and as a working mom with 2 small children, there is often a carefully orchestrated plan in place to make sure kids get where they need to be, house cleaned, groceries shopped, laundry done, doctors appointments made, general house upkeep, etc).  When the plan fails, it's so easy to get upset, to get worked up, to get frustrated.  It takes a great amount of humility to stop and be grateful for those times when the plan actually *does* go right.  In fact, when the plan does go right, I, personally, don't stop and take a moment to express gratitude for that.  Perhaps I should...
On Monday, my older boy started his full-day summer camp.  Prior to this week, he had only been doing an activity that lasted from 8am to 10am.  My younger son has camp from 9am to noon.  What this meant was that I had only a 1-hour kid-free window to do whatever it was that needed doing.  That's not a whole lot of time.  Now, I have a 3-hour window, which opens up a world of possibilities!  Or so I thought.  I, of course, wanted to squeeze in some studio yoga classes, but by the time I drive the half-hour to the studio, take the hour and 15 minute class, and drive home for another half hour, it leaves me with 45 minutes to do whatever.  Not nearly enough time.
Huh?  I had a 1 hour window where I was too rushed to do anything, and suddenly I have a 3 hour window, and it's still not enough time?!?  I was in the studio class on Monday morning, on my mat, feeling disgruntled that by the time class was over and I drove home, I wouldn't have enough time to do any other errands.  Then it dawned on me that I wasn't feeling gratitude for the time I did have.  I made the choice to spend my time on the mat - and while my to-do list wasn't getting any shorter  - the dry cleaning wasn't getting picked up, the phone calls weren't getting made, the fresh groceries for dinner weren't being bought, I could rationalize that I was choosing to spend my time on the mat.  Time well-spent, if you ask ANY yogi!
(actually, in retrospect, a calm, relaxed and centered Mommy is quite a positive accomplishment for any family!  Count your blessings, boys!)
I often find myself telling my children: "Be thankful for the things you actually do have, do not cry for the things you don't have"  This often comes up when one brother gets a perceived "treat" that the other brother does not (ie, one gets more time on the iPad, or eats dessert at a slower pace so it seems like he had a larger serving, etc).  My reflections on Monday led me to realize that I would do well to take my own advice.  I think if I took pause and remembered to be grateful more often, then my life might begin to come closer to "contentment"

Ask inwardly for guidance, and listen for a reply - Erich Schiffmann