Anything but Bliss

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Back on schedule at the studio. Samfrantastic, to quote Henry Fonda. But I had a panic attack today. First one in two months. So, I went for a walk in the snow. That was Diane's influence. And I knew that if I could just make it through the next 20 minutes, the panic would be gone and the afternoon could resume. That was Har Sharon's wisdom. Some people never know what impact they have. If I'm aware of it, I'll let you know. And I've pretty much always done that. From Fayne Pearson at the Learning Center at VWC who changed my advisor and changed my life to the guy at the nail place who bought me a deep friend banana; if you've impacted my life, I like to be able to thank you.

So, the hips are where women carry their emotions. And the jaws are connected to the hips in terms of tension. Basket-case weekend. Hips almost immovable. Jaws locked. Bliss class is described as a hip-opening class. And I go to two of them because of multiple hip injuries and a life filled with grief; it's a weak spot. And weak spots need to be strengthened and no better way to strengthen than to keep at it. But in doing that, I subject myself to an inordinate amount of pain and by the end of class, it shows. I will never win a hand of poker. I'd draw an Ace and crack a smile and it'd be all over. All emotions felt are displayed on this visage.

It isn't normal things that hurt, like muscles or tight hamstrings. The biggest thing holding me back is my hands. I can't flatten them...almost but no cigar. I can't put my weight into the underside of the knuckles and in the webbing of the fingers. My fingers don't bend that way yet. So, the weight goes into my wrists and I tire in the position quicker than I should. Frustrating. I stretch my hands every day. And sometimes my knuckles swell because I've aggravated the inflammation so much. But I want this and I want it bad. I'm not complaining. I'm just stating fact. I can type 90 words a minute with almost no errors. But I can't grip. The strength in my fingers is minimal. Writing for extended periods of time causes cramping and fatigue. And playing the piano is almost laughable. We're talking 8 years of arthritis build-up. But I expect to train my hands how to have strength and to stretch and to support my weight properly. I expect them to be what they're intended to be. And they will, but tonight, they aren't there yet.

My posture is improving greatly and my left leg has less tendency to turn in. During ankle rotations tonight on the left side, I felt a fire burning in my foot. I don't know if it was energy trying to reverse years of crookedness or if, by chance, I was causing neurological damage. As fatalist as I can be for about five minutes at a time, I'm more often than not going to choose the positive alternative. I don't think that makes me an optimist. I'm just expectant. Someday, I will stand straight with straight feet and strong leg muscles that don't allow my knees to even think about hyper-extending. That will happen.

As we lay in shavasana tonight, Angela sat behind my head. I could feel her energy there and I immediately became emotional. She lay an eye pillow across my eyes and massaged my head. I don't know if it was a feeling of concern that I felt emanating from her or if it was just how much the time invested means to me, but I wept silently. And I'm still overcome. I'm drained and exhausted, but I feel like healing is taking place. At least the door to healing has been opened. Some people have to come into our lives just to introduce us to other people. Not everyone stays and not everyone has a huge impact. But they can lead us to those who do. I would not have found Angela's studio had it not been recommended to me in passing conversation two years ago. And I may never be able to count how many times walking through those doors on November 1st, 2009 impacts my life. But everything that came before moved me toward this moment: this opening, this learning, these challenges. And everything that comes after now will have been shaped by every breath, every asana and every act of caring. My question is: how good can life get if these are the building blocks?

DVD Desperation

Monday, February 1, 2010

I nearly went insane this past weekend. I forgot where I put my bag of tools. Snowed in and no yoga class. Unable to see out of my own head long enough to cope. It wasn't the weather. It just was. Couldn't breathe...constant state of panic...not sleeping. Just trudging through, trying not to let my brains melt out my ears. It may sound like an over-dramatic description. But it's as accurate as I can be. I felt like I had a lab rat running circles inside my brain with a video projector. Visions, images, memories...you name it. Couldn't focus. Couldn't eat. The only rational thought I could muster was to send an email to Diane. So, that's what I did. And I asked for help...something I could do to get out of the crazy and back on a path. And she was gracious enough to respond. And not only did she know where I'd hidden that darn tool bag, but she added several for the next time. And between her advice and my dear friends reminding me to pray and cracking jerky jokes that made me laugh, I made it through the weekend alive and mentally intact. There isn't a word big enough to express my gratitude for my support system. There just isn't. But someday I hope to have every volume of the Oxford English Dictionary and I'll begin a search for the word.

I love Monday nights specifically because of Diane's flow class. No matter how difficult, I always feel stronger when I leave. So part of what helped me button myself up and make it through Monday was the possibility class wouldn't be cancelled. And in fact, it wasn't. Just moved to a time I couldn't go, which made sense because of the weather. I understood that. But I still cried a little. But then, it was time for Ursula to take matters into her own tentacles. I pulled out a Seane Corne DVD I've had for years, put down the mat in my home office and set about the practice.

The last time I attempted this DVD, I got 20 minutes into it and collapsed to the floor. It's an hour and 10 minutes long. That was a number of years ago. But last night, I made it through and could've gone on. I wasn't as challenged as in real life yoga classes. I know the energy was right because my little brother was in there trying to do downward facing dog underneath me, making me laugh by looking at my upside down. And all three cats filtered in and out trying to help, yeah, help. Little Bit clawed my hair during shavasana and then, stretched out on my knee pad mat. He has been my inspiration for the last five years. He only has three legs but he runs faster than the other cats. He's missing the back leg, but he still springs up and 'mountain' climbs with his front paws to get where he wants to go. And he's the sweetest by far. Wild when he came to me at 12 weeks and 11 ounces. But loving to the point of adoring now. He's amazing because he was brutally attacked and had to give up a part of himself. He not only adapted and endured but persevered and has a heart full of love. He's a cat and cats are supposed to live primarily by instinct. I am human and I have a higher consciousness. But something tells me I should take lessons from my cat.

Conscious Relaxation

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

After a week of inner panic, I entered breathing class. Let me just say that I look forward to every class, every aspect of yoga. I don't have to be convinced or dragged. I don't get home and think, 'well, maybe I'll skip this one.' Nope. Never crosses my mind. But not all classes are pleasant and some are more difficult than others. It scares me to go inside my head, inside myself. It shouldn't. I've been stuck there for a long time. But to really take a long, hard look at the inner workings...sheesh. Sometimes, I think it would be easier to medicate rather than meditate. But meditation is what I've chosen and therefore must pursue.

So, I set my intention. And this time I asked for strength. I know I am strong. I know I am strong more than I am a lot of things. But I felt the need for a specific kind of strength, one I couldn't even name. It wasn't my conscious mind asking for strength; it was my heart. I had a hard time controlling the breath in this session. The innate breath was stronger and took over. It was interesting to cease control of something in my life. Amazing that I actually try to control my breath or more accurately restrict my breath. And when I let go, the breath actually pushed into the upper breathing region and released my throat chakra. My chest burned. And so did my throat. I wonder how long it's been since I've breathed in that area. I'm sure I did once. Is it only recent tragedy that restricted it or has it been restricted for years? I lean toward the latter explanation.

Har Sharon warned that I may be more opinionated and vocal than usual. I laughed. I suspect you're laughing too. But with this desire to vocalize comes the challenge to be mindful. And with this, a challenge to see how creatively I can find ways to relax. I laughed at this, too. I'm about as relaxed as a slug in a salt mine. You might as well challenge me to take a vow of silence or to fast. It's strange to think you have to make an effort to relax. But it will certainly take a concerted effort.