Kicking Up Into Headstand and Other Bad Advice

queen

Sitting at my dark-wood roll-top desk, legs crossed under me on a grey armless chair, I turn my head to see Queen on SiriusXM radio, Another One Bites the Dust. I keep it on the 80’s on 8 channel because, you know. The volume is muted so I have to look at the album cover to see what’s playing. It makes no sense, I know, but neither does a lot of things.

When I was twenty-four, I worked at Dillard’s salon. Retail cosmetology is the absolute worst, the only consolation the multitude of stores in which to spend money while I await the promised clientele. At the same time, I dated an idiot who I let convince me I should become a real estate agent. As advice goes, this was pretty bad.

As a twenty-five year old real estate agent I was just terrible. I didn’t even do all the post licensing rigmarole because the National Association of Realtors took all my money in exchange for access to house listings and a lapel pin in the shape of an “R”. By the way, it’s pronounced “real-TOR!” and not “reel-AH-tor” as we like to say in the south. Get it right.

Thankfully, neither the guy or the real estate career worked out. While they stewed together in the sewer, I went and got a nice job waiting tables where the lapel pins were shaped like grapes and not like a ridiculous “R”.

A few years later on a cold December night, whilst rattling around in a lonesome stupor helped along by a large bottle of moderately good wine, my mother suggested to me that, perhaps, I could teach yoga. I immediately railed at her about what a horrible idea that is, given that I didn’t think my six or so years of practice constituted a decent level of experience to teach the stuff. Not only that, but there was not a single yoga teacher training academy in Pensacola.

A year later I take her relatively helpful advice, having decided for myself that a career in fitness and wellness could lift me out of the doldrums of food service, which might have inspired the previous year’s malaise. A new career was thus launched after a year of training and in less than three years I find myself enmeshed in the new and budding yoga teacher training programs in Pensacola as an instructor and mentor.

I might add that it took me a year to follow this good advice to go to teacher training, so it is plainly obvious that the speed with which I act on given advice is inverse to how good it is. For example, You say “This apple pie is hot, let it cool before you eat it.” Me – already chewing.

When I began teaching yoga I also started doing hair again. I was working at a high end salon. It was a pretty good gig because I could go teach a yoga class between clients. I could even schedule yoga classes around my budding clientele. However, I was getting advice from two corners; the salon owner advised me to dress like a stylist and less like a fitness professional at beauty boot camp and the yoga studio owner advised me to quit my job and teach yoga full time.

In response, I quit the salon and waited tables on the weekends so I could be all piss and vinegar during the yoga teaching workweek to which I was newly committed. Quitting the salon job was terrible advice. So was leaving the restaurant, which I refused to do, given its ability to pay bills and afford me the luxury of new books, high end cat food and  – ironically – flip-flops made out of yoga mats. This move might have ultimately cost me opportunities, since I didn’t really offer a great show of force in my commitment to yoga.

I’ve maneuvered, like a street magician’s sleight of hand of where’s the marble, around the three jobs of food service, cosmetology and teaching yoga, and the marble that ended up in the magician’s sleeve was teaching. Eventually I had to let something go. I was becoming a cynical instructor secretly hoping no one showed up to class. I took the advice of my own counsel and quit teaching at the studio.

The problem with being a yoga teacher without a studio home is that I sometimes see via the marvel of social media students share their practice. How is this a problem, you might wonder?

Last week I saw a video of a local student kick up into headstand. She was proud of headstand, which is a commendable pursuit and a practice with grounding and depth. It has cautions that come with it, along with important alignment cues and stability practices. One of the things I remember from my own teacher training is the emphasis on  taking care of the cervical spine and the importance of lifting into headstand with control and keeping a neutral neck in shoulder-stand. Kick right the hell up into handstand, put a hole in the wall with your foot if you want, but control is key in headstand.

I thought about leaving a comment on the clip – what do they call those now, gifs? I considered all the ways I might direct, assist or inform but felt uninvited and, quite frankly, like a troll. I have enough of that feeling when I go to Panera Bread and they tell me they are out of sprouted grain rolls for the day and I have to restrain the expression on my face – very troll like.

From my perspective I must, at best, look like an armchair quarterback. At worst, a cynical out of work yoga teacher with control issues. But I am not out of work – not with all those jobs – and if I do have control issues, the issue is with not taking responsibility  for my life sooner.

Yoga is not my main source of income and teaching it is no longer my career. With this realization comes a great bit of freedom, including the ability to teach whatever in the hell kind of class I want because paying my light bill no longer hinges on the number of students who show up. It is my job to reassure and instruct, but not necessarily to make you like me.

This also means I can say whatever I want, in the name of safe and healthy alignment, so I’m going to give everyone some good advice – don’t kick up into headstand. Ask yourself, “What would Iyengar do?” and then do that.

I realized this week, between the dance between biting my tongue about technique and finding empowerment around the freedom of teaching off the clock, that giving up on my profession was the best thing I could have ever done for my practice. I am also renewed in teaching, as any good teacher will tell you, Dear Reader, because the practice informs what instructors are best able to teach.

Here’s a fantastic video on safely practicing headstand. She gives great cues and alignment instruction. https://supersisterfitness.com/safely-properly-headstand-for-beginners/ 

 

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Turn that Hot Mess into a Happy Little Tree

Back in June if you saw me with a sock on my forearm I had no compunction with telling you why it was there. You might have also noticed I was totally unwilling to show you what was under it.

I went and got a tattoo I couldn’t stand to look at. Now, you may be wondering a few things, like didn’t I see it before they put it on me? Why yes, I did. But looking at a tattoo outline is a little like looking at faces on a dating site – it’s not always accurate. The famous last words, “But when we add color and shading….” sealed the deal for real estate on my lower arm.

You might wonder if I went to a place I’d never been. Perhaps I decided to go the disreputable and half assed rout. Alas, no, I went to a custom shop where I’ve gotten work before. It is for this reason that I was willing to ignore my little voice and churning guts that had a very bad feeling and plenty to say.

Do you know what I said in response to that little feeling? “It’ll be fine.”

The artist was late and hadn’t drawn up the design, so it was all sort of a rush job which I willfully ignored because, you know, it’ll be fine.

The following day I taught my very first out of town workshop to a large group of yoga teacher trainees. So horrified by the affliction of this horrible tattoo, made worse by the swelling despair of its recipient, I re-purposed a brown stocking sock by removing its toe.  I swiped this sock from my host and dear friend to whom I am forever indebted; thank you for having such nice footwear.

I had a six hour drive home after this roller-coaster weekend of tattooing and teaching. I had plenty of time to decide what in the hell I was gonna do with the hot mess on my arm. Only recently I’d been referred to an artist in Pensacola and, after reviewing her work, called for a consultation from the exit onto I-85 south bound.

I pleaded, “I know you can’t do anything with it right now, but if I can just come in so you can tell me you can fix it, I’ll feel so much better.”

When I arrived the next day and peeled the sock away from the gooey mess of a fresh tattoo she said, “I can do something with that.” It felt like a balloon of tension and anxiety popped right there in the middle of The Psychedelic Shack. I made my appointment for a month later. This is a list of things I learned while I waited it out –

1. People are a lot more sympathetic than we give them credit. Sierra Kay, my tattoo artist and one of top twelve favorite people, made me feel a hundred times better just by meaningfully saying, “I know how you feel.”

When I explained the sock on my arm to clients or students, people seemed to understand. It was like being stuck in an outfit I hated but couldn’t take off. Everyone was nice and didn’t give me a hard time about it. Most people either tried to reassure me or make me feel better by sharing their own tattoo tale of woe. It was all very sweet.

2. Detachment is just a yogic concept until you have to take care of someone or something that you really don’t like. A tattoo is, essentially, a controlled wound that requires special care. Just because I couldn’t stand the sight of it didn’t mean I could just let it wither and crust up on my arm because it was on my arm. I had to wash it, dry it, put the stuff on it, make sure it didn’t get bumped or harpooned even though on more than one occasion the serrated edge of a butter knife looked like an appealing alternative. This teaching potentially translates well to challenging family, friends and customers. Also, the car you may no longer be in love with still requires an oil change. This is sorta reminiscent of that teaching, “People are assholes, love them anyway….” especially if you are somehow attached to them.

3. Things you think of as permanent aren’t necessarily so. I signed a waiver at a tattoo shop where I got that hot mess put on and that waiver said I understood I was having something permanent put on my body. Permanent is relative given how quickly I got it fixed, just saying.

This teaching could extend to that new haircut you hate, that boyfriend you wish you’d never met, those lip injections or that job – it can be changed, adjusted or perhaps, if you’re lucky, totally transformed.

4. Perhaps the most important thing I learned is to never, ever, under any circumstance ignore that little voice, especially when it joins with your guts. It was almost an act of will to stay in the shop when I felt things going awry. The artist was late, unprepared and distracted and I knew it. All of this is really on me, you know, because I could have left. But I didn’t. Let me tell you something, Reader, this teaching has already paid off because since getting that tattoo I have thought to myself, “it’ll be fine…” and now relate that dialogue with, “No the hell it won’t.” There is no telling how much grief and misery I may avoid because of this new found faith in my intuition.

5. Everyone has bad days, even the most lauded professionals. I’ve had yoga classes I tried to teach with laryngitis. I’ve gone to work at the restaurant so hungover I thought about throwing up in the garbage can near the Coke station (I’ll happily list the benefits of sobriety if there’s sufficient interest – not being tempted to throw up at work would make the top ten). I have had receptionists book me clients for services I was not trained to perform but tried to do anyway.

I never thought of this before, but I think part of professionalism is recognizing when we are not prepared for the work. This doesn’t mean to sub your yoga class when you get a hang nail on your pinkie toe, but if you really have something going on show compassion to yourself and your students, clients or customers.

6. You probably saw this one coming, but Bob Ross was right about happy little accidents. Sierra Kay gave me this dreamy bracer piece that takes up about three quarters of my forearm. She designed a marvelous rose quartz skull in the center of a blue lotus matched in detail by lavender plumeria and moonlit waters. The hibiscus that was a little too confederate red for my taste is a dazzling cranberry. The aspects of the tattoo around which communication was stunted is now covered over with a mosaic in which symbols are nestled and held by a totem of steadiness. The whole effect is that of a vintage Hawaiian post card.

I didn’t start out with the design I have on my arm now, and I don’t know how I would have otherwise arrived at it without starting where I did. God blessed the broken road that lead me to the Psychedelic Shack – seriously folks. Thank you Sierra Kay.

They say referrals are the highest compliment – well, that and a nice tip. If you’re in the market for a tattoo artist who is easy to sit with and has a particular talent for tattooing give her a call. Her watercolor work is amazing ~ 850-479-9007

 

 

A Storybook About Life

When I was fifteen I got my first deck of tarot cards. They were a Christmas present from my dad, though they were not a surprise because I made him take me to the store to pick them out – The Tarot of the Cat People by Karen Kuykendall and I loved them.

The Star Cat People

The Star can indicate the refreshment and re-alignment with life purpose. It can mean the harmonious blending of resources for self-improvement and inspiration.

Almost immediately my uncle had a fit. He is about as tall as I was in 1995. His eyes have a tendency to run out of their sockets when provoked. Tarot of the Cat People, with its retro vibe and muted jewel tone color pallet, was enough to provoke the hell out of him.

He had a marvelous fit over my tarot cards and they ended up back at the bookstore, both my father and I effectively frightened by Early’s histrionics. Yes, his name really is Early. A year or so later, with the distance of another state between us, I realized my uncle wasn’t mature enough for Tarot of the Cat People, which I promptly re-purchased and still have, wrapped in a piece of pillowcase from the eighties and nestled in a dark wood box.

Since turning seventeen, I read lots of tarot cards and collected numerous decks. My favorites were The Cat People and The Egyptian Tarot, which is now out of print.  I also had a fun, kitschy Halloween tarot deck that is whimsical and retro. Though I parred my collection down, I kept these. The Egyptian Tarot was a particular favorite because of the liberal use of deities and sunlight.

Egyptian Tarot Death

The Death Card symbolizes transformation and releasing unhealthy attachments. Pictured here is Anubis, God of the Underworld.

Several years ago now, I dated “the wrong man” I wanted so badly to be the love of my life. We were a long distance hot mess couple who were terrible for each other but there was this gripping determination I had choking my heart and all reason.

I took to the cards to give me answers. I wrestled with them, demanded answers that fit with the way I wanted things to be. I was willful and tense until I realized I was wrestling with something so much bigger than I was. It wasn’t the cards but the Universe in question, and the Universe doesn’t so much win or lose but simply IS.

About the same time I realized I was no longer in control, or wanted to be, I met my Teacher and my spiritual practices changed. I wanted more to see where I was going than to dictate where I would go. I started to feel something uncoiling from within me which felt infinitely more freeing than investing in wrangling something outside myself.

Hanged man Halloween tarot

The Hanged Man, from The Halloween Tarot, can reflect that you’re feeling stuck or restricted, which is kinda why I got in touch with Uma in the first place.

Last December I was in turmoil because teaching yoga hadn’t quite worked out the way I’d hoped when I went into yoga teacher training seven or so years ago. I thought I was making a career change for the better but what I was investing myself in began to feel like a multi-level marketing business with fitness professionals at the top and raggedy ass cronies at the bottom driving all over the coast teaching yoga classes. This is not what I put on my vision board, people.

While contemplating where my vision board might have gone wrong, I had a random idea; Have a reading with Uma, the idea urged, and that’s what I did.

Uma Simon is a monk and resident at Kashi Florida, the ashram where my Guru lived and taught and where my own Teacher studied. Uma lives there and reads tarot for a living. I considered that, even though I’d begun to doubt the depth or purpose of tarot, certainly having a reading with someone who lives on the very ashram where the Teacher of my heart studied has merit! Uma greeted my email warmly and we had an appointment early the next week.

I felt like I’d met her before, and I very well may have when I was last there. She was easy to talk to even though I could hear myself as though in third person and felt like I sounded like a hot mess. Hot mess or no, she didn’t treat me like one. She was very nice to me and had helpful things to say.

Before we got off the phone I asked her about reading tarot. I explained that I’d lost confidence in tarot and that I felt like I’d just been swimming upstream with the cards. I didn’t even know what I expected to get out of them anymore.

There was a thoughtful pause at the other end before she said one of the two sentences I replay for myself often, “Reading the cards can just be a vehicle for your intuition…”

I felt refreshed by this, like I’d taken myself off of restriction and could go play with my friends outside. I went to my decks and unwrapped them, though they no longer felt familiar to me. Not sure if it was me or them, I turned to ye ‘ole reliable internets and shopped for a new deck.

Shopping for new tarot decks after a seven year hiatus has got to be its own blog post, but just let me say here that a lot has changed since 1999 and I had to order from the bookstore or mail order from The Witch’s Almanac. There is this thing called “indie decks” which are published by independent artists that’ll make you feel like the Universe is sending you post cards.

What I experience now with tarot is that my hope isn’t to be told what to do or where to go, but to experience the landscape of my mind and life’s events with both detachment and understanding. I am learning that tarot is not divination as we think of it as fortune-telling, but that it is a means by which we may communicate with clear consciousness from where wise insights and inspiration comes. It is by tuning into this visual, symbolic tool that we intuit guidance for ourselves and others.

Returning to this practice feels like writing again after ignoring my work or shredding my journals. I forgot how much I enjoyed it and what a comfort simply shuffling the cards can be. There is a difference in maturity in myself that I can see now, and that the break from the cards served an important task of giving me perspective. I am mighty glad for the inspiration to return.

I’d like to share a fitting quote from The Hoodwitch, a most excellent mystic I follow on my new favorite social media platform – Instagram. She says, Fear is dangerous, not the tarot. The tarot represents the spectrum of the human condition, the good, the evil, the light, and the dark. Do not fear the darker aspects of the human condition. Understand them. The tarot is a storybook about life, about the greatness of human accomplishment, and also the ugliness we are each capable of. @thehoodwitch

I could not have said it better myself.

If you’d like to know more about Uma or to book a reading check out her website UMASIMON.COM

Knight of Swords starchild

The Knight of Swords begins new projects with critical thinking aligned with inspiration and fresh energy. This card reminds us not to rush but to remain excited. This is one of my favorite cards in tarot.

Starchild Tarot by Danielle Noel – starchildtarot.com

 

Vintage Word

If you have not read Night Circus yet, I suggest you put your tablet down and go buy it. Get yourself a nice paperback copy, it feels nice in the hands. Be sure and clear your calendar, you’re not going to be available for a while. When you’re finished, come on back.

I was so enamored with the book that I looked up the author, who is almost as interesting as her work (would that someone would say that about me one day!) and her website does not disappoint. I am curious about authors who have crossed the rainbow bridge into the world of publishing, and in particular the author of Night Circus, Erin Morgenstern.

Because she is a good person, she has a page on her website for aspiring writers. You see, she was an unknown who was published by cold calling agents and editors (le sigh). I’ll have what she’s having, thankyouverymuch. I figure she knows what she’s talking about, even if she is a fly by the seat of your acrobat leotard kinda girl.

In her post on writing she says that she writes on a program called Scrivener. Well, obviously I need that, too. Right? But I have written on Microsoft Word for so long that it stands to reason it’s best not to waste time teaching old dogs new tricks, or more accurately, a sassy nearly middle aged cat who isn’t interested in learning anything new.

I pecked and searched my way through quite a lot of my first draft before my computer broke. It wasn’t sudden, either. I got to watch it wither and wilt with periodic spasms and death rattles. Damn the machine! I was in a frenzy to save this long drawn out document that may one day be my retirement from all of the jobs (except the ones I love, and I’ll leave it up to you to guess which ones they are).

I go get myself a new computer with no little whining about having to learn a new operating system. The worst part, I think, is getting accustomed to the new keyboard. It never feels just right until all of the sudden it does. When that moment arrives, good luck if you have to change again; old dogs and all.

I saved my stuff online with great displeasure. I am dubious of online storage things. My precious work, the words over which I labored and have not yet brought to conclusion, what if it ends up in the wrong hands? What if it is pirated? What if it is somehow spoiled or abducted by sand fleas and made to perform in small tents?

Then it occurred to me that I have plenty of content I put on the internet on purpose and very few people read it. I can’t drive traffic to my blog, and I’m worried someone is gonna go and pirate something I’ve written? Are they somehow going to go and get famous with work I can’t hock for free? Doubtful.

So, I started writing on a word processing program and I actually finished the first draft. I wasn’t happy about the way the word processing program felt, much like the new keyboard. The program didn’t have formatting up to my nearly professional standards (standards which I only discovered moments before my previous computer ceased its operations). This online writing program felt hollow and I knew it was a short term relationship, not unlike a passionate and combustible love affair.

Today that manuscript and how to proceed has rattled around in my mind. How to enter the next phase of editing? The Apollo phase, I like to call it. My nerves can’t take another moment of this online program, it’s too blank and generic. The obvious answer is to do what Erin Morgenstern did – write on Scrivener.

This program is confusing as hell. I’ve tried to learn it in the past and concluded it must be an operator error. There are sticky notes, cork board applications, there are even little digital push pins where you can hang your ideas and stuff. In the event you, Reader, and I have met in real life you know that I only have so much tolerance for fancy technologically advanced stuff and by my estimation there isn’t much more advanced stuff than digital pushpins and internet cork boards unless we’re talking intergalactic travel, in which case that might be more advanced.

I went running back to Microsoft Word. I’m not sure why I waited for so long. It came pre-installed but not activated on this new PC. Maybe I was trying to be different, technologically advanced or a good protege of Erin Morgenstern. But I just now put Word on my computer; it is offline and pretty much just the same as it was on my old, long lost computer. I swear even my keyboard feels better with my characters dancing around on a familiar word processor, not that my characters dance much. I will tell you that they don’t do too much yoga, either. I add this because folks are sometimes under the impression that I must be writing some sort of treatise on yoga or other advanced spirituality themed work of inspirational aphorisms.

Nope. It’s fiction and it’s ready to get the second draft treatment. I feel like someone should start the Rocky theme song. Ding. Ding.

The Great Outdoors

For the month of March we endeavored to practice one yoga pose every single day. We went with the same posture; downward facing dog. One down dog every day and see what happens.

I thought about adding onto this, building a pose by month sequence so at the end of the year we’d get up to twelve poses a day. But the weather has been so pretty lately and I can be such a shut-in that I want to offer a variation on home practice.

Let’s practice outside. I know what you’re thinking because it’s the same thing I was thinking when I wanted to practice outside – bugs. Bugs and sunshine. Yuck. Combine the two and you have a perfectly good nightmare.

Last week I ordered an all-weather picnic blanket. The thought of eating outside is almost as horrific as doing yoga outside, so a picnic blanket is not something I thought I’d ever own, but it’s Spring and I’m feeling it. The pattern on my large all-weather picnic blanket is blue flowers on a darker blue background and looks not unlike a sheet set we had when I was five. I love it.

Last Sunday, thanks to Amazon Prime and my decisive internet shopping bonanza, I take my blue hippie flower all-weather blanket outside and find a nice area of the yard free of dog poop. The wind blows through the branches above me, which I take for a good sign. I go in and slather SPF 50 on my dedicates and ink, some of which overlap. Unperturbed by the heat, I grab the dish towel with a faded strawberry pattern to keep handy in case I sweat. Even though the Florida sun cannot possibly be hotter than an unholy hot yoga class, I decide to play it safe. No need slipping in a puddle of sweat and having to wait for someone to find me.

When I begin my practice the sun has arced over head and is on its downward journey to the sea. It is still high enough to be brilliant and warm on my skin like a cosmic heating pad administering healing vibes to my sore muscles. Though it is warm, there is a steady Spring breeze that keeps me cool and inspired. There are a few clouds that hang around above me. They are full, white and comfortable in their powder blue home.

The dogs are displeased with this sojourn into the outside and that it excludes them, but they try to escape through the holes in the fence the raccoons dug and I don’t want to worry about them while I bask in sunlit tranquility. Also, they bark. I leave them inside to sulk.

I do the practices I received the last time I went to see Swami. It’s a beautiful sequence to the bright red moon. There is also a breathing practice and mantra sadhana (chanting practice) included at the conclusion. It’s the real deal, ya’ll, at least as long as a “real” yoga class, if not longer if you include the time I spent just looking up into the trees and sky.

This isn’t practical in the everyday world for a daily practice. It is hard practicing everyday and it is especially difficult if I have in my head it is supposed to look a certain way. But I think, given the warmth and sunshine, this is something I can do once a week for a month to see what happens.

So this is what we’re adding on; practice outside at least once a week for the month of April. I think that an enclosed porch, outdoor patio or balcony counts (one of the most amazing practices I ever enjoyed solo was on a third floor balcony in Gulf Shores around mid-night). If you like the beach and are into sand and that sort of thing, try taking your mat out there. There are also some really nice parks around, but the backyard is nice, too.

At this point, you might have a question you want to ask; Prana Devi, I’d love to practice yoga outside and bask in the tranquility of the sun. But I haven’t been practicing yoga for very long and I don’t know what to do. How do I practice yoga outside when I don’t really know how to practice yoga?

Excellent question! I’ll give you a few options. First, go to the bookstore. Find the magazine section and, I am not kidding, buy a print yoga magazine. This is how I built my own home practice. Most yoga magazines have at least one, if not several, practice sequences with pretty good explanations. Take the magazine outside with you and lay it open on your all-weather picnic blanket. Use crystals, your coffee cup or mala beads to hold the pages open. Do what the pictures tell you.

Your phone is another option. That marvel of modern technology has more computing capability than the first spaceships. Find a good educational yoga website, choose a video and do it – outside on your all-weather picnic blanket. I suggest Yoga International.

Lastly, start taking yoga classes and take notes of sequences you like. Ask the instructor to make a short sequence for you so you can take it home and practice outside on your all-weather picnic blanket. Remember your practice does not have to be long to count and it does not have to be complex to have meaning. You just have to do it. Let me know how it goes.

If you are still practicing the daily down dog stick with it and see how many days you can go. If you want to freshen up your single pose du jour, for the month of April pick an asymmetrical posture like Warrior 1 or seated spinal twist. You’ll have to do both sides which, if you think about it, is like doing two yoga poses a day!

Lastly, if you choose to order an outdoor blanket make sure its measurements are larger than your yoga mat is long. I practice on a longer 72 inch yoga mat so double-check your measurements to avoid disappointment. Who in the hell wants their yoga mat touching the ground? We mat be practicing outside, but we’re not insane!

New Moon Resolution

How have ya’ll been doing with the daily downward facing dog practice? I’ve got something cool cooked up for us to try next month, but stay with the daily posture practice, even if you vary it a little. Maybe spend some time in puppy pose or child’s pose as variations.

On the topic if daily practice, I cannot help but think about to-do lists. I don’t know if you’re into that sort of thing, but I am. I don’t try to be, but I find myself with my pastel colored index card writing out a pretty little list of stuff I want to do that day. Not only that, but what needs to get done that day.

Look, I’m not putting “go to work” on this list, because that’s a given. So is “go teach that class” and “stop by Target for cat litter”. I have all the major bases covered. What I have to itemize are the things that will fall through the cracks on me when I’m not looking.

Sometimes it feels ridiculous, the things I put on this index card. Sometimes it feels so important that I get to all of it. When I inevitably don’t get to everything it is such a major letdown that I double up on the items for tomorrow’s list, because that is a helpful remedy for time constraints and one’s sense of self efficacy, right?

I’ve been feeling a little pinched for time lately, and for no reason. I don’t have a nine to five job *whew!* and I don’t have children. What I do have is an incredibly flighty mind, a few social media accounts and no little talent for online shopping.

We have the new moon upon us Monday evening. The new moon invites us to practice restoration, withdrawal from the busy-ness of our daily grind, the ability to look at what is working in our lives and what is not and to make resolutions accordingly from the clarity we find in meditation and silent reflection.

This is a time to plant seeds, too. What do you want to watch grow over the coming weeks? Where do you want to invest your energy and attention? These are powerful questions when asked with consciousness because we answer these questions every day sometimes with a great lack of awareness.

In what do you want to invest your energy? In what way do you want to direct your Prana?

Well, I for one don’t want to invest myself in the vast wasteland of my imagined plans. I don’t want to sap my strength for real expression by running on the rodent wheel of to-do lists laid to waste by the unexpected turns of life, weariness or varying priorities. I might have had “write a blog post” on my list for yesterday, but if a friend sent me a mala to be repaired maybe I’ll choose to work on that, instead. It is not a waste of energy, just re-direction. The waste of energy is in the regret of an un-checked off list; in reality, the list is mutable. It is the mind that makes it rigid.

By some divine inspiration, I am certain, I was inspired to work with the concept of a to-do list on this New Moon in Aries. Aries, a fresh fiery sign already associated with the Spring, it’d be easy to ride the coattails of this energy and make bigger, better faster to-do lists for these longer, brighter days. Ruled by Mars, Aries energy could make it easier to use these lists and aspirations as a road to ruination. How many times have I beaten myself up over (as yet) unfulfilled dreams or poorly planned good intentions? Let’s use the spark of this sign to energize our focus on where we DO want to invest our sacred energy.

So instead of getting all “tasky” on myself at the height of my frustration with my inability to get anything done (though, in truth dear Reader, I get plenty done) I decided to turn the art of task listing on its ass.

I made a do-not-do list. You are welcome to join me.

I started by asking myself what is the project on which I wish to spend the most time. The answer is a writing project. I finished the first leg of it and am now in the perilous land of reading what I have completed – all nine hundred and seventy two pages of it (it’s not really that long, but, you know…) Essentially I have a push you pull me relationship with the love of my creative life.

So, I figured out where I don’t spend my time. So what in the hell am I doing when I am seated in my writing chair with the computer on? Come one…one more guess…

Yup. Internetting. Flipping channels between Instagram (@electricmala) facebook and ye ‘ole gmail – for no good reason. Also, amazon, because I wanted to see what kind of coin belts they have for belly dancing. I might also need a cross-body pouch for all of my outdoor activities (of which there are none). There is a new moon oracle that is back in stock from an indie publisher….

You see how this goes.

Instead torturing myself with stuff I need to get done and then doing things that are the opposite of that, I have made a New Moon in Aries resolution to not make a to-do list (for at least these two days ripe with new moon energy). I’d like to see what I gravitate towards and where I invest my energy without the guilt of a looming index card of shame.

There is no cajoling myself towards one project when I feel pulled towards something else. I might color, or read Outlander’s most recent installment – Drums of Autumn – perhaps I’ll write that blog post or practice yoga outside. I might drink coffee and think quietly to myself – which is quite the new moon activity to do.

On the other side of this New Moon Resolution is a certain level of restraint. The moon is a powerful symbol of time and presents a fantastic reflection for working with one’s relationship with time. As I admitted, I waste a lot of time internetting, pointlessly so. If I need new shoes or yoga pants I don’t take five hours in the mall shopping for them so why in the hell does it take so much longer on the internet?

So, in addition to not making a list or itemizing my activities in an effort to legitimize my existence, also, there will be no internetting.

“Ah ha! Prana Devi!” You might say, “I caught you! Already internetting! Are you not in the internet writing this blog post right now?”

That’s right, you caught me. I am, in fact, on the internet right now. But I am writing – a perfectly honorable and important endeavor to my sense of fulfillment as a human being. I am not, however, trolling zappos to see what Patagonia might have in the way of slinky sandals appropriate for drum circle dancing at the beach.

Let me tell you something, the seductive glow of the information screen has a way of shifting your perception of time. I think it also changes cognitive function and our ability to focus, which has everything to do with one’s ability to get things done, feel good about oneself and, also, reflect on the moon, which is of the utmost importance in our fast-paced daily grind.

So, even for a few minutes, stand still and watch your breathing. In the very least, instead of thinking of everything you ought to be doing, take a moment and appreciate all that you have done. Itemize each accomplishment, large and small, over the last day, week or month. Give yourself three minutes in this space and see how differently you feel from the gratitude that wells up. And know that even though from the outside it might not look like time well spent, time not wasted in unwarranted urgency is priceless.

 

 

 

Moon Hand Sun Hand

On Friday I went to Atlanta for a workshop called The Yogic Teachings of the Moon. Who wouldn’t want to go learn about all of that?

We may have been learning about the cooling light of the moon, but my Swami was on fire all weekend. She walked in Friday night with Shakti blazing and it was all Celestial from there. I wouldn’t begin to give a synopsis of the teachings, so this isn’t what the post is about. It’s about left and right, my friend, and my relationship with it.

The right side of the body is associated with the sun, brilliance, intellect and the masculine. The left side of the body is the moon, creativity, and the feminine. There are pranayama (breath practices) one can use to bring the left and right sides of the brain into harmony, so neither dominates the other. This leads to a stillness in the mind that helps us enter into deeper states of quiet and meditation. It is a point of balance so brilliant and illuminating that it is comparable to the sun and the moon.

I often think of the left and right side of the body, being a yoga instructor I deal in one side at a time. I am also intrigued with handed-ness. I quickly notice if I am dealing with a left handed person; one of my managers at the restaurant, the tattoo guy who put Bastet on my leg, the students at Uru Yoga and Beyond who sign their name on the clip-board, having to turn their bodies just so to the negotiate the pen on the straight line.

As a kid, my first urges to retrieve a Crayon or a fork was with my left hand. At the same time, I had a wonderfully well-meaning great-grandmother who wasn’t having any of that. Her name was Honey and she worked with me all the time. She taught me how to spell and write when I was very young. This is, in part, why I am so advanced to this day. I also credit her with my love of writing and books of all kinds. Granted, this love has sometimes become a bit of an obsession with reading materials, but also it is still a blessing.

While she was teaching me how to write my name and other important things like colors and animals, she insisted that I use my right hand in spite of my left handed tendencies. She was superstitious and believed that left handedness was a sign of witchcraft and other devilry that we didn’t want around. And so, my left hand was abandoned for the more wholesome right hand.

Well, it seems that left handed people are known for their creative brilliance. They are wildly innovative and successful like someone born under the sign of Leo without a single malefic planet buggering their aspirations. This is the left handed person. The right handed person, infinitely more common, is analytical and thinks ‘like the rest of us’.

Here I am, in handedness purgatory. I feel cheated. I am not ambidextrous. If I tried to write something with my left hand the entire appendage would look something like a writhing turtle chewing the eraser end of a pencil. However, there are some things I do like a left handed person, like when I went boxing I stood like someone who’d used their left hand their whole life.

I have often wondered if this little well intended change to my handedness didn’t hinder my ability to fully harness the creativity I feel coursing through me like currents of good ideas grounded too soon, like lightening with poor depth perception. I have wondered if my brain didn’t fire the way it was supposed to and so, I didn’t fire the  way I was meant to.

Last Saturday, after we learned about the Moon and Her Yogic Secrets, me and a whole bunch of ravenous yogis went to an Indian restaurant and ate our weight in delicious food. While I am scooping up some spicy brown sauce I notice the woman across from me eating with her left hand. She is a stroke survivor and now teaches yoga to other stroke survivors. I am compelled to ask, “Were you right handed before your stroke?”

She was right handed before her stroke. I was interested in the process of changing one’s handedness as an adult and due to such an intense circumstance at that. Changing her dominate hand was not a choice but a fierce act of healing. I felt a little ridiculous when I told her about Honey and my obsession with hand dominance in light of her life and death ordeal.

This woman has large brown eyes swimming in smooth, dark skin. Her hair is very short with a shock of white near her hairline, which makes her youthful appearance look very wise.  When asked about her experience, and my reason for asking, the space between us felt very quiet, held  in the silent grasp of her clear gaze.

She moves her food around with the fork as we move into a conversational tone on this topic, other friends nearby chime in here and there. While she is talking to me, I notice her right hand resting tranquilly in her lap. Then she says, “Maybe this change helped you somehow.”

I feel my head turn to the side, like a dog who isn’t sure if its human asked if it needed to go outside or if it wants a treat. She says it again, in a slightly different way, but I just hold my breath in this novel idea’s wake.

What if being forced to use my non-dominate hand during early development was somehow a boon to my thinking processes. Perhaps creativity has flourished in distinct and unprecedented ways because of my superstitious great-grandmother?

Let me tell you something, Reader, this never occurred to me. If I hadn’t been sitting down at the table, I would have had to sit down for a minute under the weight of this implication. What if my effervescent personality, quirks and all, are the product of the way my brain adapted to changing from left to right dominance when I was two? Maybe this is why I am good at mirroring a fitness class when I teach it, perhaps this is the reason you like my writing, I can draw really good horses, I make such fine malas and understand the language of cats.

This was a lesson not in handed-ness but in the thinking mind’s processes and its gravitation towards the negative. I had not even thought there could be a positive to this and so never believed in it.

This year, with the same Swami I just went to see, we are studying the Yoga Sutras. This is the instruction manual for yoga practice, and unlike my previous post I ain’t just talking about downward facing dog. In this text there is a lot of talk about the mind and its ‘fluctuations’. In this study is the invitation to choose one’s thoughts, which I think is a really seductive practice, perhaps even more appealing than floating between handstand and scorpion pose. The ability to choose my thoughts, and recognize that I am not my thoughts, is one of the wildest and most healing benefits of yoga.

I see that I was creating separation between one side of myself and the other; the left and right at odds with each other and my ability to be in the world as my fabulous self hinging on the outcome of this battle. However, if my left handedness and right handedness combined to work on behalf of  the still point between the sun and the moon within me, then I empower that unity by dis-empowering the negative mind.

This is real wild territory. Perhaps uncharted territory, but a landscape that is rich with the potential to be free from the barrage of negative thoughts. This feels like the landscape of the Cosmos, the very same one that spins within each and every heart on the planet, not too hot like the sun and not too cool like the moon, but just perfect as it beats in time to the rhythm of life. Who wouldn’t want to go learn about all of that?