I notice that I am feeling the effects of the White Tantric Yoga I attended a week ago. It's amazing. It could have a lot to do with the season, of course. Birds are singing more, daylight is more pervasive, and the greens, yellows, reds, and purples of spring are bountiful. However, it's still cold by my standards. Usually it's in the 50s or low 60s each day, and we've had some dreary, rainy days.
Still I'm feeling energized.
White Tantric is a form of meditation we Kundalini yogis like to put ourselves through as a kind of tune-up. It's a daylong (usually) structured event, facilitated by a woman who leads us by describing the posture and/or mudra or mantra that we have to do for each exercise. This woman then holds the space and absorbs much of our good (and bad) energy. The whole thing actually is led (if that's the right word) by someone called the Mahan Tantra, and that was (is) Yogi Bhajan. However, since his physical body is gone, it's his subtle body that we're counting on (the yogis believe the soul and the subtle body go on after we've passed from our physical and other bodies). So there is often a real sense of the presence of Yogi Bhajan in this event, and there also are the videos he made to continue the practise of White Tantric long after he died. So we watch a video, he tells us what to do and gives us a little spiritual message to go with it, and we do the meditation for (usually) 31 or 62 minutes. Some of these can seem excruciatingly long. If you can't do it or you have to leave to go to the bathroom, you raise your hand and a monitor comes along to take your place. You are never supposed to break the lines. Oh yeah, we're sitting in straight lines facing a partner. Men on one side, women on the other. There are never enough men though, so there are often women on both sides. Also, we're all dressed in white, with head coverings to protect the crown chakra at the top of the head.
My experience this last time (I've done it possibly 20 times? Definitely more than 15.) was a little different. The whole thing seemed much more laid back and easier than most. Everyone was commenting on it. But at the very end, I found out I had been hurting my partner with the mudra- gripping her too tightly. Since we had our eyes closed at this point, I didn't know, and she didn't tell me until after it was all done, when she lashed out at me. My spirits sank and I felt that old familiar guilt and shame. I wanted to crawl in a hole, and I should have been jumping for joy.
We talked it out and both apologized, but I still felt bad, going home, that night, a lot of tears, which I realized were tears of grief for other losses in my life. I asked myself what Yogiji or my father would have told me. They both would have said that I didn't know I was hurting her, it wasn't intentional, and there was nothing I could do about it now since it was in the past--so don't feel bad. I took a hot bath at home and began a 40-day meditation on Yogiji's picture. The next day I also began doing the Bound Lotus (an adjusted version) meditation for 40 days. I talked to a few people and felt better.
Today, a week later, I feel fine. I feel energized, and I'm really into these 40-day meditations. I'm not drinking any alcohol for 40 days and I'm exercising more and (hopefully) eating less.
Today doing Bound Lotus I could almost touch my toe. (In Bound Lotus your arms are crossed behind your back and your legs are crossed as your feet sit on your thighs and you are supposed to grab your big toe with each opposite hand. I just do an amended version of this, with a scarf looped around my foot, one side at a time.) I am feeling lighter by a few pounds, and more energetic. White Tantric works, even if you have challenges with your partner (or yourself).
Now if the weather would only improve!
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
Dreaming of mothers
It's almost Mother's Day, an annoying holiday for some, especially those who: A. no longer have a mother living on the planet; B. have grown children who are geographically or otherwise unavailable on Mother's Day; and/or C. think of the holiday as a sentimentalist's fabrication which unfortunately still tugs at the heartstrings, despite a cynical view of the whole idea. I guess all of the above apply to me. I want to turn off the radio or TV whenever there's a Mother's Day advertisement-they're so patently, saccharine-soppy, even when they attempt at humor. How can you not want to tear up-or throw up-when you see or hear these promotions?
That said, I had a dream last night about my mother--who's been gone almost two years now (I can hardly believe that). In it she was old, like she was before death (so often we dream about family and loved ones at different times in their and our lives). I was touching her face lovingly and talking about how soft her wrinkled skin was. It was a very sweet moment. Of course that's all I remember of that dream. I value each moment I can spend with my deceased parents in this way.
I had been thinking about her a lot this week-- possibly because of the emphasis on Moms from the commercials. But it came to me that after my Dad died, she was really thrown for a loop, and despite her physical and emotional disasters (a major stroke, the loss of her husband, cancer) she showed an ability to laugh and keep up like I wouldn't have expected. One side of her body was basically paralyzed after the stroke. She lost some mental ability also-- the words she tried to push past her tongue just wouldn't come, or would get mixed up with other words, and her face, smoothed strangely by the stroke, would look baffled and annoyed by this trick her brain or tongue played on her.
And yet, confined to a nursing home, she still had her humor and was cheered whenever I came to visit her. We didn't have to talk about much or do much. Often I just sat with her watching old movies in black and white on her TV, holding her hand. My brother said she'd lost so much weight that holding her hand was like holding a handful of finger bones. But she had a sweet smile, and when she turned it on me I felt love and forgiveness for whatever wrongs either one of us had ever done to the other. I also felt she was a trouper: she had always depended on my father and told me she expected to "go before him." Yet she hung in there, attending the AA meeting she started at the nursing home, going to bingo and other events she'd previously scoffed at.
Some might say (and I think it) she was a captive with little choice as to her behavior in that institution and with he physical limitations. But she made some choices. She insisted on not having her hair pin-curled like so many of the other little old ladies around her. Instead it was cut relatively short and blown out, giving her a surprised, windblown look. She started the AA meeting at the nursing home on Sundays. And she held onto one of the traditions she had with my father: at each meal, her dessert was ice cream with maple syrup.
I miss her, I loved her, I'm past the rancor I used to have for her. I hope to visit her again soon in my dreams. Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
That said, I had a dream last night about my mother--who's been gone almost two years now (I can hardly believe that). In it she was old, like she was before death (so often we dream about family and loved ones at different times in their and our lives). I was touching her face lovingly and talking about how soft her wrinkled skin was. It was a very sweet moment. Of course that's all I remember of that dream. I value each moment I can spend with my deceased parents in this way.
I had been thinking about her a lot this week-- possibly because of the emphasis on Moms from the commercials. But it came to me that after my Dad died, she was really thrown for a loop, and despite her physical and emotional disasters (a major stroke, the loss of her husband, cancer) she showed an ability to laugh and keep up like I wouldn't have expected. One side of her body was basically paralyzed after the stroke. She lost some mental ability also-- the words she tried to push past her tongue just wouldn't come, or would get mixed up with other words, and her face, smoothed strangely by the stroke, would look baffled and annoyed by this trick her brain or tongue played on her.
And yet, confined to a nursing home, she still had her humor and was cheered whenever I came to visit her. We didn't have to talk about much or do much. Often I just sat with her watching old movies in black and white on her TV, holding her hand. My brother said she'd lost so much weight that holding her hand was like holding a handful of finger bones. But she had a sweet smile, and when she turned it on me I felt love and forgiveness for whatever wrongs either one of us had ever done to the other. I also felt she was a trouper: she had always depended on my father and told me she expected to "go before him." Yet she hung in there, attending the AA meeting she started at the nursing home, going to bingo and other events she'd previously scoffed at.
Some might say (and I think it) she was a captive with little choice as to her behavior in that institution and with he physical limitations. But she made some choices. She insisted on not having her hair pin-curled like so many of the other little old ladies around her. Instead it was cut relatively short and blown out, giving her a surprised, windblown look. She started the AA meeting at the nursing home on Sundays. And she held onto one of the traditions she had with my father: at each meal, her dessert was ice cream with maple syrup.
I miss her, I loved her, I'm past the rancor I used to have for her. I hope to visit her again soon in my dreams. Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Another rainy Monday
It's Monday. I'm working at the relatively quiet coffee house in town. There are a few stragglers from an AA meeting, a couple of unemployed (or self-employed? like me?) middle-aged men hanging out. I like it. The radio music is thoughtful and pleasant without being sickeningly sweet or elevator-ish. I have enough room for all my stuff. I feel like I'm out in the world without actually having to "engage" with anyone. This is when I like freelancing.
But that said I'm going to an interview with a major franchise so I can get a crummy minimum wage job that will give me the opportunity to buy health insurance at a reasonable price. Will they hire me? It's ludicrous. I've seen some of the people who work at these places. They don't even smile. I can smile at people and be nice and do my work. How much more do they need to know?
Sitting here and listening to people, it seems like so many of them are so certain. They make statements with certainty. I wonder what it's like to always feel so sure of yourself. I'm sure of myself about many things, but so much mystery remains.
I got to see my daughter yesterday. When I first see her it's like a pogo stick under my heart, I feel so happy. I love her so much and she's so beautiful and smart and talented. She's also very sensitive (like me I guess). I would like to put a bubble around her, but it's too late for that. She's already been attacked once (in Tucson) and mugged once (in Philly), not to mention the pain and heartaches that come with just regular living and dealing with other people.
It was a nice visit. I took her to her train in Providence. As we entered the downtown area she said. "Providence is interesting. A college town with gangsters and dirty politicians..."
But that said I'm going to an interview with a major franchise so I can get a crummy minimum wage job that will give me the opportunity to buy health insurance at a reasonable price. Will they hire me? It's ludicrous. I've seen some of the people who work at these places. They don't even smile. I can smile at people and be nice and do my work. How much more do they need to know?
Sitting here and listening to people, it seems like so many of them are so certain. They make statements with certainty. I wonder what it's like to always feel so sure of yourself. I'm sure of myself about many things, but so much mystery remains.
I got to see my daughter yesterday. When I first see her it's like a pogo stick under my heart, I feel so happy. I love her so much and she's so beautiful and smart and talented. She's also very sensitive (like me I guess). I would like to put a bubble around her, but it's too late for that. She's already been attacked once (in Tucson) and mugged once (in Philly), not to mention the pain and heartaches that come with just regular living and dealing with other people.
It was a nice visit. I took her to her train in Providence. As we entered the downtown area she said. "Providence is interesting. A college town with gangsters and dirty politicians..."
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Springing forward
It's spring but the depression has been dogging me on and off, although this week I feel better. There have been many financial clouds over me lately, and the loneliness is crowding me too. I take walks on the waterfront and find that there are already tourists proudly parading their dogs and babies on the sidewalks. They are usually with someone else. But I am feeling better, and I have to say it has a lot to do with yoga.
Also I went to hear Snatam Kaur this weekend at Kripalu in Lenox. Despite the fact it was only her, Guruganesha, and a random drummer, the concert was awesome. I was in the second row, right at her feet. That kind of radiance that she has just spreads, and everyone just feels better. I met a woman, Dona, who seems to be into Buddhism among other things, and her friends, Jeb, who has Parkinsons, and Shenandoah, who does hula hooping for a living (!) and another friend who was some sort of healer, Judy. Dona let me sit with them up front, since her friend had a disability. It was great.
The next day I took R out to breakfast. It was a short visit. I mentioned having a budget to plan his spending and he said we can talk about that later. I'm learning that means "never." I sure do give him his space, but that is how we were brought up. We always gave R his space.
Drove home in the middle of the day--beautiful over the Mohawk Trail which is now looking much more springlike. Had to fill my car up with gas and it went over $50. This is too much, this economy. Not good for us poor slobs.
Also I went to hear Snatam Kaur this weekend at Kripalu in Lenox. Despite the fact it was only her, Guruganesha, and a random drummer, the concert was awesome. I was in the second row, right at her feet. That kind of radiance that she has just spreads, and everyone just feels better. I met a woman, Dona, who seems to be into Buddhism among other things, and her friends, Jeb, who has Parkinsons, and Shenandoah, who does hula hooping for a living (!) and another friend who was some sort of healer, Judy. Dona let me sit with them up front, since her friend had a disability. It was great.
The next day I took R out to breakfast. It was a short visit. I mentioned having a budget to plan his spending and he said we can talk about that later. I'm learning that means "never." I sure do give him his space, but that is how we were brought up. We always gave R his space.
Drove home in the middle of the day--beautiful over the Mohawk Trail which is now looking much more springlike. Had to fill my car up with gas and it went over $50. This is too much, this economy. Not good for us poor slobs.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Pulling out of depression/anxiety
Well, I intend to pull out... I realized over the past couple of days that I'm experiencing a feeling I haven't had for some time. It's a tightness in the back of my throat, and a feeling that I could start crying at any moment. I find myself thinking back to times when (in retrospect it seems) I was happy or content. I remember thinking "I have a nice life." Not always, but I did used to think this. I try not to dwell on loss, but I am dwelling on the future these days. I got a mailing from Rosie's Place, a shelter for women in Boston. The letter told of a 76-year-old woman who ended up out on the street. (She was a teacher, retired, and got very sick. Her pension ran out. It can happen to anyone was the gist of the letter.) Do I think I'll be out on the street? Not immediately. But I am well aware of the homeless men in town who walk past the row of houses where I live and stop by all the garbage bins, checking for cans or bottles. This morning a man, bearded with funky, 70s style sunglasses on, was empty handed. Later today I saw him on another street with a bag that was pretty well filled.
But anyway, to the point of all this. I'm going to yoga class tonight with my wonderful first teacher, Anne (Prabhjot is her spiritual name). I fully expect the class to offer some healing. Something about doing Kundalini yoga, especially in a group, really uplifts me. Yogi Bhajan, the dude who brought this yoga to the West from India and began teaching teachers, would have said that the yoga teacher is a forklift. You have to lift up your students, he said. Your students should be 10 times better than you. I am a teacher, too, and I struggle with sparsely attended classes, but I still feel it's important for me to be there and uplift my few students.
I've been talking to God a lot lately too. For a long time I would cringe at even hearing someone else say the word "God." I guess it seemed linked with fanatic extreme, fundamentalist types to me. Lately I feel as if I'm moving toward my god, like a salmon inexorably swimming upstream, or migrating birds or butterflies. It's like this need to come home to something.
I'm hoping my god-directedness and keeping up with Kundalini yoga will help pull me out of these sinking feelings. I can't afford a shrink or anti-depressants right now. That is a luxury for the few, I'm beginning to realize.
But anyway, to the point of all this. I'm going to yoga class tonight with my wonderful first teacher, Anne (Prabhjot is her spiritual name). I fully expect the class to offer some healing. Something about doing Kundalini yoga, especially in a group, really uplifts me. Yogi Bhajan, the dude who brought this yoga to the West from India and began teaching teachers, would have said that the yoga teacher is a forklift. You have to lift up your students, he said. Your students should be 10 times better than you. I am a teacher, too, and I struggle with sparsely attended classes, but I still feel it's important for me to be there and uplift my few students.
I've been talking to God a lot lately too. For a long time I would cringe at even hearing someone else say the word "God." I guess it seemed linked with fanatic extreme, fundamentalist types to me. Lately I feel as if I'm moving toward my god, like a salmon inexorably swimming upstream, or migrating birds or butterflies. It's like this need to come home to something.
I'm hoping my god-directedness and keeping up with Kundalini yoga will help pull me out of these sinking feelings. I can't afford a shrink or anti-depressants right now. That is a luxury for the few, I'm beginning to realize.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Financial anxiety
I've been out of work for over a year. A year and three or four months now. I'm not the only one, I know that. I do freelancing to survive, although last year at least there was some help from unemployment insurance. Last week I met with my tax lady. She's a genius, but I'm still going to have to pay big bucks this year. I'm kind of getting into that mode of anxiety, will I make it? Can I make it? I'm planning on living on a very small amount of money per month, unless I can get other work. The whole healthcare issue is another thing. I've been sending out resumes right and left and trying to apply for local "stupid jobs." They are stupid in that no one can possibly live on the pay (minimum wage or a little more.) But I need the healthcare the stupid jobs can offer me. However, even the stupid jobs aren't hiring me. The job I applied for that would have been a $5,000 cut in pay in December turned me down.
I really need to do a lot of yoga to fight off this financial anxiety. A good, easy and doable exercise is just standing up, putting your arms out horizontally and moving them like a seesaw as you inhale one side up, exhale the other side up. The arms have to stay in a straight line from each other. The breath should be deep and full. A couple of minutes of the exercise will relieve anxiety.
Sat Nam (Truth is my identity.)
I really need to do a lot of yoga to fight off this financial anxiety. A good, easy and doable exercise is just standing up, putting your arms out horizontally and moving them like a seesaw as you inhale one side up, exhale the other side up. The arms have to stay in a straight line from each other. The breath should be deep and full. A couple of minutes of the exercise will relieve anxiety.
Sat Nam (Truth is my identity.)
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Skinny is as skinny does?
I'm on and off obsessing about weight. I just don't want to be as fat as I am, which is definitely overweight but still at the point where I can look at other women my age or younger and think, "I'm not that bad, yet!"
So the fact that I think that makes me wonder how my skinnier friends look at me. Do they make a moral judgment on people who are heavier? I tend to assume so, but maybe that's just me being paranoid. I know when I see someone with bigger rolls than mine I say (inwardly) "But for the grace of god..." It's not that I eat that much--of course every overweight person says that. And as I have aged (in my 50s) I notice that everything sticks to my body like it never did before. I think I eat pretty healthy, although I do like sweets--honey in my tea and brown sugar in my oatmeal and a cup or so of ice cream at night or a few chocolate chips. But all in all I do eat pretty healthy. I'm staying away from meats except for occasional fish and I honestly don't eat that much bread. I hardly ever eat chips. Well, there is the popcorn thing... when I take myself to a matinee that popcorn smell is so seductive. I have to have it.
So anyway, I feel armored against my skinny friends. I told one of them that I was doing the President's Challenge. It's this free thing where you sign up on the web and just log your activity every week. You are supposed to do at least one half hour of exercise for five days a week. I thought that was pretty manageable, and so I signed up. I find that I end up doing more than the half hour, too. So that's a good thing. But getting back to my skinny friend--she told me to keep it up. Am I being too Woody Allenish if I read into that, she's thinking I'm a blimp and I better do something? Of course this is a woman who ate nothing but black garbanzo beans for 40 days in an extreme cleanse. So there is a whole other level there.
Anyway, I would like to get skinnier. I would ultimately like to lose 20 pounds to reach my "happy weight." I may have to bite the bullet and join Weight Watchers. It has worked for others I've seen and the one time I tried it with my husband I was successful (of course I had his moral support or fear of disapproval if I cheated.) But for now I'm three weeks into the President's Challenge and I haven't lost an ounce. I feel better about exercising, it's becoming more of a habit, something I need to fit into my day. But clearly the food has to be looked at.
I don't usually count my yoga as exercise, even though you can count it. I have been doing yoga every day, at least 15 minutes if not 45 minutes a day, and so I'm mainly just counting the stuff I do at the gym and the walking. We'll see...
So the fact that I think that makes me wonder how my skinnier friends look at me. Do they make a moral judgment on people who are heavier? I tend to assume so, but maybe that's just me being paranoid. I know when I see someone with bigger rolls than mine I say (inwardly) "But for the grace of god..." It's not that I eat that much--of course every overweight person says that. And as I have aged (in my 50s) I notice that everything sticks to my body like it never did before. I think I eat pretty healthy, although I do like sweets--honey in my tea and brown sugar in my oatmeal and a cup or so of ice cream at night or a few chocolate chips. But all in all I do eat pretty healthy. I'm staying away from meats except for occasional fish and I honestly don't eat that much bread. I hardly ever eat chips. Well, there is the popcorn thing... when I take myself to a matinee that popcorn smell is so seductive. I have to have it.
So anyway, I feel armored against my skinny friends. I told one of them that I was doing the President's Challenge. It's this free thing where you sign up on the web and just log your activity every week. You are supposed to do at least one half hour of exercise for five days a week. I thought that was pretty manageable, and so I signed up. I find that I end up doing more than the half hour, too. So that's a good thing. But getting back to my skinny friend--she told me to keep it up. Am I being too Woody Allenish if I read into that, she's thinking I'm a blimp and I better do something? Of course this is a woman who ate nothing but black garbanzo beans for 40 days in an extreme cleanse. So there is a whole other level there.
Anyway, I would like to get skinnier. I would ultimately like to lose 20 pounds to reach my "happy weight." I may have to bite the bullet and join Weight Watchers. It has worked for others I've seen and the one time I tried it with my husband I was successful (of course I had his moral support or fear of disapproval if I cheated.) But for now I'm three weeks into the President's Challenge and I haven't lost an ounce. I feel better about exercising, it's becoming more of a habit, something I need to fit into my day. But clearly the food has to be looked at.
I don't usually count my yoga as exercise, even though you can count it. I have been doing yoga every day, at least 15 minutes if not 45 minutes a day, and so I'm mainly just counting the stuff I do at the gym and the walking. We'll see...
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