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. 

Slow it down

It's been a busy couple of days...and so I haven't had the chance to blog lately.  Not that I haven't had the desire to!  I bought some new yoga pants and wanted to blog about that, I bought a new book and wanted to blog about that, I took a challenging class that ended with a crazy posture (thanks, Kate!) and wanted to blog about that, I taught a yoga class to colleagues at work and wanted to blog about that...  But it hasn't been until life has forced me to slow it down a bit that I actually had the time/courage/motivation to sit and put my thoughts down on paper computer screen.

Yes, I, like much of the Northeast corridor, have been crippled a bit, thanks to Hurricane Sandy.  Schools are closed, trains aren't running, flooding and mass power-loss are expected.  It's different from a Nor'easter snow storm, because there is no snow to shovel (although I am compelled to report that I heard someone outside with a leaf-blower yesterday evening.  I know you're all with me here: THAT is ridiculous.)  We are collectively being forced to "take a break", but it's an odd break to take, because I'm sure the sympathetic nervous system is still being stressed out.  With every powerful gust of wind threatening to down a tree limb or two, and every news channel urging people to stay indoors (and what about those poor weather reporters being drenched as they report alongside the swelling tides of the Jersey shore?), I'm sure few people are not feeling the stress and blood pressure spike.  As far as your nervous system is concerned, however, it's time to pause, take stock of things, realize that the weather is out of human control, and slow things down.

So, how will you spend this time?  We had the chance to sleep in today (usually early morning is my only time to squeeze in a workout - hitting an early yoga class or scooting out to the gym - but naturally,those places are all closed), and then fixed the children a leisurely breakfast.  I had the kids do their Italian homework while I cleaned up breakfast, then get caught up on cello practice (hey, we're raising a couple of renaissance men!) while I caught up on ironing.  Husband joined in on guitar and it became a regular jam session.  The boys moved on to coloring with markers, I threw in a load of laundry (in case we lose power I'd like a head start on stinky clothes piling up), and Husband busied himself with booking his travel for work next week.

Now that the "hard stuff" is out of the way, and it's not even noon, what will we do with ourselves?  I lit a sage smudge stick and threw it in the fireplace - an unconventional riff on home scent, but I'm saving my candles in case the power does go out.  At least the air will be clear (the traditional purpose of a sage smudge stick is to "clear the air").  We'll likely break out a few board games later on, and maybe get around to finally treating the boys to a screening of "Back to the Future".  A few mugs of tea are in order, maybe a foot massage.  All of those little luxuries that we don't often take.

Why have we created this society where things like this are "luxuries"?  Why do we feel like we aren't successful unless we're "busy" all the time?  More than I'd like to admit, I've lately found myself responding to the question "Hey, how are you?" with an exhausted-sounding "BUSY!"  Do we busy ourselves all the time to feel important?  Are we being busy all the time to keep pace with our peers?  I have to wonder why we have created this life for ourselves where there is always so much to do.
Yes, I'm stressed about the potential damage from this storm.   Yes, I'm worried for my friends, family, and neighbors, and praying for their collective peace and safety.  But I'm also grateful for the storm for forcing me to slow down, take stock of what's important, and get on with it.  So, slow it down, and see if you can't find some bits of enjoyment for yourself in the midst of the storm.

Try a semi-inverted pose to restore your body's essential systems in times of stress.  Lie on the floor with your legs supported on the seat of a chair.  Place your palms on your lower belly feeling it rise and fall with your breath until you feel at rest.

Everyone is having their own experience...

Any proficient classroom teacher knows that each child in front of you is having a different experience.  Ergo, the importance of differentiation in your lessons: you have to have multiple entry points to the lesson's content so that the material is interesting and accessible to all of the learners in your classroom.  It's sort of a "Well, DUH!" thought:  Of course every child is having a different experience.  They all bring varying backgrounds to the table and those differences influence the way they learn and perform.  As a teacher, you can choose the degree to which you let this influence your lesson.  GREAT teachers are flexible and talented enough to incorporate a lot of this, weaving a brightly patterned lesson. So-so teachers know what the fabric is supposed to look like and weave the same cloth over and over again.

So, when my Instructor mentioned this concept "Everyone is having their own experience..." during our lessons on Wednesday, why did they have such a profound effect on me?  When she spoke these words, I felt like the clouds opened, raining sunlight down on our class, enlightening me with the most philosophical statement I had heard in weeks!

I understood how she was relating the words to being a teacher in a yoga class - you don't know what injuries someone brings to the table and you don't know what level of yoga experience someone is bringing.  The bottom line is that you have to be careful about the way you phrase certain directions when teaching postures.  You can ask the class to slide their right ankles forward, but one student may be already at his or her edge, and the ankle can't move any further forward.  Another student may be new to yoga, and have no idea why the right ankle has to be in that position.  Other students may be recovering from injuries, and moving deeper into the posture is just too painful.  The main message of this lesson was that as the instructor, you have to be observant of your pupils and choose your words carefully.  Give personal directions when necessary, and keep in mind that "everyone is having their own experience".

Going deeper, I realized that this statement can be applied in every situation, and that's what got me, gave me pause to think.  I looked around at my colleagues in our cohort (which is 18 future-yoga-teachers big!) and listened to their (brief) biographies, realizing that each of us in in the training for different reasons.  Over the next few days, I started approaching a lot of situations with this outlook, and I swear it made me feel more compassionate.  At the kids' sports practices this weekend, every parent was having their own experience - some were fully engaged in watching the practices (even helping with coaching directives), others (like me!) took advantage of the time to catch up on emails and texts before trying to chat with fellow parents and see how the first few days of school were going.  Even at a (really, really fun) birthday party last night (it's not a proper party unless the Taco Truck shows up!!), chatting and catching up with various friends we missed seeing over the summer, everyone was having their own experience.

We are all having our own experience, no matter what situation we find ourselves in.  I encourage you to give it a try, and see if it brings you a little more understanding and compassion.  Driving around town, going to a sports practice, sitting in a class, there are always multiple viewpoints to consider.   What comes to mind at present is my training class.  No one's reason for being there has any more gravitas than anyone else's - we are all parts of the whole (cohort), and I'm sure the fabric of the lessons we weave over the next 9 months will be vibrant, brilliant, and one of the most valuable I've ever been a part of!

It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see - Henry David Thoreau