Have you ever had one of those days (or weeks) where the world is conspiring against you, and everyone around you is doing their best to annoy, irritate or hurt you? I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that you probably have, and probably more than once. I've had a few days in a row like that, and it seems to have culminated in general crankiness, distractedness and lack of focus today. It's gotten to the point that I have a batch of freshly mixed and coned henna, and I can't even get excited about doing mehndi on myself. Now that's bad.
I've been struggling with a couple of things recently. Without going into too much detail, gossip has been the bane of my existence and happiness for the past week. I've had uncomfortable and disquieting information given to me by several friends regarding several different situations, and I am unsure what to do with this information. I also discovered (again, in the insidious form of gossip) that a case of mistaken identity may have affected my good reputation in some circles. I know it's not often constructive to listen to gossip, or I thought I did. However I couldn't help but be affected by what I'd heard. With the mental and emotional turmoil of the week's informational indiscretions in full force, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.
So, it appeared, did many other people around me. My dear daughter has been contrary all day, and has by now (it's 2:13 PM) thrown at least two tantrums and refused to eat lunch or take a nap. Trying to get my kids into the car this morning was like herding cats. We barely made it to the car in time, then hit a traffic jam caused by construction on the road to their school. As I was on my way to teach my morning Asana class I was astounded by how poorly people were driving. A sample of my thoughts (edited to remove the more colorful language): 'Look at that guy, he's all over the lane and going 55 miles per hour. He must be on his phone. Yes, he is. Hang up and drive, Idiot!' 'Can't you use a signal light, Lady? Oh, NOW you turn it on, now that you've cut me off and are parked in the left turn lane where it's obvious to everyone around you what your intention is. THANKS.' I finally ran the traffic gauntlet and arrived to teach my class at the fitness club, only to find that the room was 63 degrees F with the air conditioner still blowing icy drafts, the floor was dirty and the dust mop had been removed for cleaning, and there were four spin bikes placed in areas that blocked me from accessing the yoga props I would need for my class. Seriously.
Thankfully, from the time that my dear daughter had her first tantrum upon waking this morning until the time that I had dragged the last spin bike into its proper parking spot so we could reach our yoga blocks, only one part of my mind was occupied with being annoyed at the world. Another part was watching myself with both amusement and compassion, and remembering a story I heard a few days ago.
My husband found an online broadcast of a lecture given by Pema Chodron: Buddhist nun, writer, lecturer and wise, gentle spirit. In this video clip she talked about having 'one of those days'. Wouldn't your life be much better, she said, if the person behind you on the plane wasn't wearing such strong perfume, and if the one on your left would lose 30 pounds, and the one on your right would stop snoring? Then you could be happy, if all those people would just be the way they SHOULD be. She grinned. Then she told us to imagine walking across a stony desert in bare feet. The soil is hot from the sun, and the stones are sharp, and it's understandably very uncomfortable to walk! So, here's the solution: cover the desert with strips of leather, from one side to the other. You could walk across it in perfect comfort! That makes perfect sense, right? Or... you could wrap your feet in the leather (i.e. wear shoes). With her joyful smile, she explained that wishing the world around you to change is as absurd as trying to cover the desert with leather. The way to approach it is to work on your own mind.
"It isn't the things that happen to us in our lives that cause us to suffer, it's how we relate to the things that happen to us that causes us to suffer." Pema Chodron
Sounds like I need a new pair of walking shoes.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
Are we hard-wired for happiness?
It's been a busy week filled with homework, costume creation, and fun and games for the kids in celebration of both Nevada Day and Halloween, so it has been awhile since I've had a chance to sit and write. In the intervening week I had the opportunity to view a short lecture by an inspiring and amazing person, and that video gave me a lot to process (another reason it's taken me so long to write). This video is a presentation by Jill Bolte Taylor, a neuroanatomist who suffered a stroke at the height of her career. In her short lecture she describes her experiences during the incident and in her subsequent recovery, and gives a physiological interpretation of what she experienced.
The gist of her story is that she ended up with a huge hemorrhage in the left hemisphere of her brain that rendered her unable to speak, to understand language, or to move her right arm. Despite the urgent and life-threatening nature of her illness, her experience was nothing short of euphoric - a sense that she was intimately connected with everything around her, that her body was filled with the life force energy of the universe, that she couldn't define the limits of her self, and that the experience of the present moment was all-absorbing and perfect. Wow. For those who have read the Yoga Sutras and are familiar with the 8-fold path, sounds an awful lot like Samadhi, doesn't it?
Even thinking about an emergency like that makes my heart quicken and I start to sweat; in short I have a fearful 'fight or flight' reaction. However what she experienced was quite different, and she attributes this to the differences in 'processing styles' in the two hemispheres of the brain. She describes the left hemisphere as the source of linear, time-based thinking: remembering the past and using that information to project into the future. The left hemisphere, according to Dr. Bolte Taylor, is also where ego (separateness of self), intellect, criticism, emotional baggage (samskara) and mind-chatter (chitta vrtti) reside. When her ego was forcibly shut down, the part of her brain that lives entirely in the moment and welcomes all of experience (her right hemisphere) was able to come to the forefront and she could experience the perfectness of the moment, even though she was in the middle of a medical emergency.
Her experiences raised a great deal of discussion between my husband and me after we watched her presentation. He asked me, 'so, is your left brain keeping you from Nirvana?'. We speculated about the temptation to use mind-altering pharmaceuticals to achieve a similar state, and wondered whether Samadhi is a mystical and spiritual experience when there is evidence of it being a biochemical and physiological brain process. After some thought I came up with the following conclusions.
It may be true that the ego-intellect-linear processing of the left hemisphere keeps us from living in a constant state of Samadhi but I'm not sure that's a bad thing. The reason Dr. Bolte-Taylor is alive to share with us today is that her injured left brain intermittently kicked back in and alerted her to the danger she was in. With effort she was able to call for help. If she'd stayed in her right brain happy place, she would not have lived. Similarly but less dramatically, we all live in the world. Though we are beings of spirit we are housed in physical bodies, and we have jobs, children, spouses, responsibilities. If we were all mystics living in caves with devoted disciples bringing us offerings of food and clothing maybe we could live in that state all the time. However as householders in the real world, we need the ego, intellect and linear processing of the left brain to survive. After all, the Buddha chose to come back to the world and share his insights rather than to stay aloof. To quote one of my favorite Zen sayings, "before enlightenment I chopped wood and carried water. After enlightenment I chopped wood and carried water."
As for taking mind-altering drugs to achieve the same state, why bother? If we consider that the left brain helps us survive, we have to realize that we need to keep it healthy and functioning, and taking a drug-induced shortcut to nirvana is downright dangerous. Besides, we have myriad tools at our disposal to help us rest the ego/intellect and access the subtle mind in a safe and healthful way. This is what yoga and meditation techniques do. Rather than being forced to relinquish ego through brain injury (like Dr. Bolte Taylor) or choosing to irresponsibly hinder brain function using drugs we can mindfully and methodically choose to exercise our right brain experience. When we meditate we place ourselves in a safe environment, we set time aside and ensure other responsibilities do not intrude, and we consciously lead the processing side of our intellect to a state of rest. When we can rest the dominant left hemisphere, we can experience life as processed through the right hemisphere, and we can stay linked to that sense of wonder and perfection even as we re-awaken the parts of our mind that we need to function in our world.
Finally, perhaps the most challenging question: is it a real spiritual experience if there is a biochemical and physiological explanation for what we are experiencing? Well, does knowing that thoughts can be seen as electrical impulses in the brain mean that their content is any less real? Does knowing that a complex series of neural impulses, chemical reactions and muscle contractions results in the creation of a pleasing painting make the artwork any less wonderful? I think that knowing our brains are wired for bliss is a great opportunity and a source of gratitude. We're built to be happy and content in the present moment, so why fight it?
(Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor will be speaking in Reno on April 20, 2011 as part of the Insight Lecture Series: http://www.insightlecture.com/speakers/jill-bolte-taylor-ph-d/)
The gist of her story is that she ended up with a huge hemorrhage in the left hemisphere of her brain that rendered her unable to speak, to understand language, or to move her right arm. Despite the urgent and life-threatening nature of her illness, her experience was nothing short of euphoric - a sense that she was intimately connected with everything around her, that her body was filled with the life force energy of the universe, that she couldn't define the limits of her self, and that the experience of the present moment was all-absorbing and perfect. Wow. For those who have read the Yoga Sutras and are familiar with the 8-fold path, sounds an awful lot like Samadhi, doesn't it?
Even thinking about an emergency like that makes my heart quicken and I start to sweat; in short I have a fearful 'fight or flight' reaction. However what she experienced was quite different, and she attributes this to the differences in 'processing styles' in the two hemispheres of the brain. She describes the left hemisphere as the source of linear, time-based thinking: remembering the past and using that information to project into the future. The left hemisphere, according to Dr. Bolte Taylor, is also where ego (separateness of self), intellect, criticism, emotional baggage (samskara) and mind-chatter (chitta vrtti) reside. When her ego was forcibly shut down, the part of her brain that lives entirely in the moment and welcomes all of experience (her right hemisphere) was able to come to the forefront and she could experience the perfectness of the moment, even though she was in the middle of a medical emergency.
Her experiences raised a great deal of discussion between my husband and me after we watched her presentation. He asked me, 'so, is your left brain keeping you from Nirvana?'. We speculated about the temptation to use mind-altering pharmaceuticals to achieve a similar state, and wondered whether Samadhi is a mystical and spiritual experience when there is evidence of it being a biochemical and physiological brain process. After some thought I came up with the following conclusions.
It may be true that the ego-intellect-linear processing of the left hemisphere keeps us from living in a constant state of Samadhi but I'm not sure that's a bad thing. The reason Dr. Bolte-Taylor is alive to share with us today is that her injured left brain intermittently kicked back in and alerted her to the danger she was in. With effort she was able to call for help. If she'd stayed in her right brain happy place, she would not have lived. Similarly but less dramatically, we all live in the world. Though we are beings of spirit we are housed in physical bodies, and we have jobs, children, spouses, responsibilities. If we were all mystics living in caves with devoted disciples bringing us offerings of food and clothing maybe we could live in that state all the time. However as householders in the real world, we need the ego, intellect and linear processing of the left brain to survive. After all, the Buddha chose to come back to the world and share his insights rather than to stay aloof. To quote one of my favorite Zen sayings, "before enlightenment I chopped wood and carried water. After enlightenment I chopped wood and carried water."
As for taking mind-altering drugs to achieve the same state, why bother? If we consider that the left brain helps us survive, we have to realize that we need to keep it healthy and functioning, and taking a drug-induced shortcut to nirvana is downright dangerous. Besides, we have myriad tools at our disposal to help us rest the ego/intellect and access the subtle mind in a safe and healthful way. This is what yoga and meditation techniques do. Rather than being forced to relinquish ego through brain injury (like Dr. Bolte Taylor) or choosing to irresponsibly hinder brain function using drugs we can mindfully and methodically choose to exercise our right brain experience. When we meditate we place ourselves in a safe environment, we set time aside and ensure other responsibilities do not intrude, and we consciously lead the processing side of our intellect to a state of rest. When we can rest the dominant left hemisphere, we can experience life as processed through the right hemisphere, and we can stay linked to that sense of wonder and perfection even as we re-awaken the parts of our mind that we need to function in our world.
Finally, perhaps the most challenging question: is it a real spiritual experience if there is a biochemical and physiological explanation for what we are experiencing? Well, does knowing that thoughts can be seen as electrical impulses in the brain mean that their content is any less real? Does knowing that a complex series of neural impulses, chemical reactions and muscle contractions results in the creation of a pleasing painting make the artwork any less wonderful? I think that knowing our brains are wired for bliss is a great opportunity and a source of gratitude. We're built to be happy and content in the present moment, so why fight it?
(Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor will be speaking in Reno on April 20, 2011 as part of the Insight Lecture Series: http://www.insightlecture.com/speakers/jill-bolte-taylor-ph-d/)
Monday, October 25, 2010
One plate at a time
When I was working at the University of Nevada Reno, beginning as a yoga teacher, and trying to make time for my family I often felt like a circus performer: specifically, the one running back and forth among numerous long poles with ceramic plates spinning on the tips (image from wikimedia Commons). I felt like I was constantly dashing between 'plates' and giving the pole supporting them a spin in order to keep that part of my life from crashing down. One lapse of attention, or one moment too long with any one task would mean crisis somewhere else. The only way to keep all the plates in the air was to be mentally one or two steps ahead of what I was actually working on.
At the time I thought it was the external demands upon me that created the situation (too many projects at work, too little help around the house, too little time for self-care, etc.). Now I know that, like so many other circumstances in life, it is something I created all by myself. Even now with my simplified and supposedly mindful lifestyle I find I jump from one task to another without finishing things. I think this is a fairly common state of existence for all of us. We all have a multitude of responsibilities and desires that we need to balance, and we often feel the need to multitask: we start planning the next activity before we've finished what we're currently doing, or we literally have two or three activities on the go at once. We feel as though this is the only way we will be able to get everything done. Ironically this pattern of thought and behavior undermines both our ability to complete tasks and the quality of the results.
There are five levels of mental activity described in Yoga philosophy. In Sanskrit these are ksipta, mudha, viksipta, ekagrata and nirodha. Ksipta describes the frantic, undirected, unfocused and compulsive movement of our minds and actions from one place to another. It's like a monkey swinging through the trees, never lighting anywhere for long. Mudha is a place of inertia and dullness; you may have experienced this mental paralysis and indecision when the pressure of balancing many tasks becomes overwhelming. Viksipta is the state we spend most of our time in - mind in motion, but without consistent purpose and fraught with doubt and uncertainty as we try to fulfill all our responsibilities.
When we skip from task to task or think about one thing while doing another we perpetuate the three lower states of mind, swinging between frantic, ineffectual activity and inertia. However, if we mindfully focus on one task or thought we can bring the mind toward the two higher states and complete the task more effectively. Ekagrata can be described as single-minded focus: we have a direction and we can keep our attention on it. The culmination of ekagrata is nirodha, becoming so absorbed in the focus of attention that nothing else exists. Do you remember a time when you were able to focus your attention on one task to the exclusion of all distractions? Do you remember a sense of time standing still, of peace and contentment, and of deep satisfaction when the task was finished? No matter what the activity was, you were practicing yoga at that moment. Sutra 1.2 says 'yoga citta vrtti nirodha'. This means yoga is when the mind's activity is completely focused in one direction.
The creative process is a good example of single-minded focus leading to total absorption. This weekend I set aside my many other tasks and devoted myself to creating a dragon jack-o-lantern for my middle son. Despite the many other tasks I had on my 'to-do' list I cleared some space and sat down to carve. 90 minutes later I felt refreshed, satisfied and content, and I'd successfully completed the task I set for myself. This experience made me resolve to approach all my tasks, whatever they may be, one at a time with single minded focus.
Creating artwork or practicing Vinyasa yoga are natural ways for me to work with the concepts of ekagrata and nirodha, but the principles could equally apply to any and all activities we undertake. Ecclesiastes 9:10 says, 'Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might'; this to me is ekagrata. My intention for this week is to approach all my tasks, mundane or sublime, as a practice of Yoga.
With that in mind, I am on my way to clean my closet (from start to finish) with all my might.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
'Happiness is Being...'
With three kids aged 2, 5, and 8 I rarely get much time to myself. This week though, my husband's parents kindly hosted my littlest one for a few days of grandparent time. This meant that for the first time in quite a few years I had a few hours to myself during the day when the baby's older brothers were at school.
Don't get me wrong; I adore my kids and love their company. But, it has been utterly amazing to be able to attend yoga classes as a student, and not once but twice in the last three days! On top of that, Reno's weather has been at its glorious, sunny and sparkling autumn best the past few days. I fairly floated out of class on Monday morning (my first time as a student in I don't know how long), blissed-out on the practice and the weather, the prospect of spending the afternoon harvesting our garden's abundance and the pure deliciousness of my experiences. I thought to myself, "wouldn't it be great to feel this happy all the time?"
And then that thought made me pause. It would be great to be so happy and content all the time, but the implication was that the happiness was triggered by my experiences. This made me wonder whether I could be plummeted into the depths of despair by circumstances just as easily as I was buoyed to the heights of joy, and I realized that without mindful attention that can easily happen. I was also reminded that one of the great gifts of Yoga practice is that we are able to dispel the illusion that our happiness and contentment is dependent on external sources (what's happening in our lives, what other people think, what we have or don't have).
I began to think about the concept of 'equanimity'. I t seems that this term is sometimes interpreted as ambivalence or even stoicism, but in my mind it's more than that; its an ability to embrace all experiences from a clear perception of our true (blissful) nature. The following quotation from Nischala Joy Devi's wonderful translation of the Yoga Sutras ('The Secret Power of Yoga') sums things up very well:
sutra 1.33: To preserve openness of heart and calmness of mind, nurture these attitudes: kindness to those who are happy, compassion for those who are less fortunate, honor for those who embody noble qualities, and equanimity to those whose actions oppose your values.
When we consciously cultivate balance and connect with our true nature, the circumstances don't cause us to bob up and down on a wave of emotions. Sutras 1.34-1.39 give some ways to cultivate unconditional peace and happiness. We can focus on an easeful exhalation, focus on an object we find inspiring, or cultivate devotion. We can focus on the divine qualities of a great soul, or remember a peaceful feeling from a previous experience and cultivate that. You can (again these are Nischala Joy Devi's words) 'dedicate yourself to anything that elevates and embraces your heart'
So many of us equate happiness to what we are, where we are, what we have. Think of all the license plate holders that bear slogans like 'happiness is... being a grandmother'. 'happiness is... being Norwegian'. 'Happiness is... being in Hawaii'. All conditional. I have seen one of these plate holders that I did agree with, and when I pulled up behind this car at a red light a few months ago I almost laughed out loud with delight.
The plate holder simply said, " Happiness is... Being'.
I'll remember that.
Don't get me wrong; I adore my kids and love their company. But, it has been utterly amazing to be able to attend yoga classes as a student, and not once but twice in the last three days! On top of that, Reno's weather has been at its glorious, sunny and sparkling autumn best the past few days. I fairly floated out of class on Monday morning (my first time as a student in I don't know how long), blissed-out on the practice and the weather, the prospect of spending the afternoon harvesting our garden's abundance and the pure deliciousness of my experiences. I thought to myself, "wouldn't it be great to feel this happy all the time?"
And then that thought made me pause. It would be great to be so happy and content all the time, but the implication was that the happiness was triggered by my experiences. This made me wonder whether I could be plummeted into the depths of despair by circumstances just as easily as I was buoyed to the heights of joy, and I realized that without mindful attention that can easily happen. I was also reminded that one of the great gifts of Yoga practice is that we are able to dispel the illusion that our happiness and contentment is dependent on external sources (what's happening in our lives, what other people think, what we have or don't have).
I began to think about the concept of 'equanimity'. I t seems that this term is sometimes interpreted as ambivalence or even stoicism, but in my mind it's more than that; its an ability to embrace all experiences from a clear perception of our true (blissful) nature. The following quotation from Nischala Joy Devi's wonderful translation of the Yoga Sutras ('The Secret Power of Yoga') sums things up very well:
sutra 1.33: To preserve openness of heart and calmness of mind, nurture these attitudes: kindness to those who are happy, compassion for those who are less fortunate, honor for those who embody noble qualities, and equanimity to those whose actions oppose your values.
When we consciously cultivate balance and connect with our true nature, the circumstances don't cause us to bob up and down on a wave of emotions. Sutras 1.34-1.39 give some ways to cultivate unconditional peace and happiness. We can focus on an easeful exhalation, focus on an object we find inspiring, or cultivate devotion. We can focus on the divine qualities of a great soul, or remember a peaceful feeling from a previous experience and cultivate that. You can (again these are Nischala Joy Devi's words) 'dedicate yourself to anything that elevates and embraces your heart'
So many of us equate happiness to what we are, where we are, what we have. Think of all the license plate holders that bear slogans like 'happiness is... being a grandmother'. 'happiness is... being Norwegian'. 'Happiness is... being in Hawaii'. All conditional. I have seen one of these plate holders that I did agree with, and when I pulled up behind this car at a red light a few months ago I almost laughed out loud with delight.
The plate holder simply said, " Happiness is... Being'.
I'll remember that.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Art and Soul
OK, I know it's not perhaps the most original name for a blog, but as I drove home from a beautiful morning Asana class at my favorite studio it crossed my mind that this phrase sums up what I do pretty well. Art, soulfulness, and even spirituality reside in both the creative process of mehndi and in the practice of Yoga Vinyasa. Connecting with others through henna application or teaching yoga multiplies and radiates those qualities a hundredfold.
It's interesting in hindsight to observe what has happened in my own soul through the course of the career decisions I've made. At one time I was passionate about ecology - understanding the complex interactions of the natural world. However, as I followed the logical progression from undergraduate student to graduate student to post-doctoral fellow, I became more and more disillusioned and eventually walked away from science. I still love ecology, the natural world, and the complexity of interactions; that is not the reason I left. Plain and simple, I decided the lifestyle of an academic was not for me.
I found that I could not happily devote the time and energy expected of an academic at the bottom of the totem pole. I was tired of all the lab and departmental politics and other stuff that gets in the way of doing science, I was tired of 'constructive criticism' (a necessary process but one which deteriorates into just plain criticism all to often), and I was tired of putting what I love (family, art, yoga) on the back burner in order to compete for jobs and funds with people who loved their work so much that this didn't seem like a sacrifice to them. After pretending my way through the last year of my post-doctoral appointment I finally did openly what I'd been doing subconsciously for many months: I handed my unfinished manuscripts and raw data over to my supervisor and started something new. With fear, excitement and a bit of guilt at laying our family's financial security squarely on my husband's shoulders, I completely changed careers.
Striking out first as a professional yoga instructor and then as a mehndi artist made me realize that part of what had made me so unhappy as an academic was that I had stopped doing the things that I used to do for creative expression. A scholar with a young family doesn't have the time to do things like sing in a choir, sew, paint, draw, sculpt etc. It's about all you can do to get a bare minimum of tasks done at work, get food on the table, and sometimes do some laundry (the laundry is last priority though). When I made the space in my life to pursue creative avenues I realized how much I had missed it! I experienced in a profound way the connection between art and soul. When you add to this connection the additional dimension of teaching or sharing (to receptive and appreciative recipients no less) something almost magical happens. I can now not imagine any other sort of career.
Now and then I still get the sense of being trapped where I am or feel like I am just going through the motions. Financial fears, doubts about the value of my work or my skills as a yoga instructor surface periodically. I still have trouble finding time to do the laundry. I sometimes feel I was an idiot to throw away 10 years of education. But, if I have the discipline to sit down and create something, or to get on my mat and move/breathe/meditate, I re-discover the conviction that I'm on the right path. Something about the art of creative expression and the soul of yoga practice clears away my distorted expectations and I find the space to be myself and to meet others as themselves.
It's interesting in hindsight to observe what has happened in my own soul through the course of the career decisions I've made. At one time I was passionate about ecology - understanding the complex interactions of the natural world. However, as I followed the logical progression from undergraduate student to graduate student to post-doctoral fellow, I became more and more disillusioned and eventually walked away from science. I still love ecology, the natural world, and the complexity of interactions; that is not the reason I left. Plain and simple, I decided the lifestyle of an academic was not for me.
I found that I could not happily devote the time and energy expected of an academic at the bottom of the totem pole. I was tired of all the lab and departmental politics and other stuff that gets in the way of doing science, I was tired of 'constructive criticism' (a necessary process but one which deteriorates into just plain criticism all to often), and I was tired of putting what I love (family, art, yoga) on the back burner in order to compete for jobs and funds with people who loved their work so much that this didn't seem like a sacrifice to them. After pretending my way through the last year of my post-doctoral appointment I finally did openly what I'd been doing subconsciously for many months: I handed my unfinished manuscripts and raw data over to my supervisor and started something new. With fear, excitement and a bit of guilt at laying our family's financial security squarely on my husband's shoulders, I completely changed careers.
Striking out first as a professional yoga instructor and then as a mehndi artist made me realize that part of what had made me so unhappy as an academic was that I had stopped doing the things that I used to do for creative expression. A scholar with a young family doesn't have the time to do things like sing in a choir, sew, paint, draw, sculpt etc. It's about all you can do to get a bare minimum of tasks done at work, get food on the table, and sometimes do some laundry (the laundry is last priority though). When I made the space in my life to pursue creative avenues I realized how much I had missed it! I experienced in a profound way the connection between art and soul. When you add to this connection the additional dimension of teaching or sharing (to receptive and appreciative recipients no less) something almost magical happens. I can now not imagine any other sort of career.
Now and then I still get the sense of being trapped where I am or feel like I am just going through the motions. Financial fears, doubts about the value of my work or my skills as a yoga instructor surface periodically. I still have trouble finding time to do the laundry. I sometimes feel I was an idiot to throw away 10 years of education. But, if I have the discipline to sit down and create something, or to get on my mat and move/breathe/meditate, I re-discover the conviction that I'm on the right path. Something about the art of creative expression and the soul of yoga practice clears away my distorted expectations and I find the space to be myself and to meet others as themselves.
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