Give something unwrappable.

Yesterday, I saw a sign on a shop door: SIX DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS! I still hadn't shopped for Jason. So off I went. The sporting goods store. TJMaxx. Macy's. 

Nothing.  

Except that feeling of being completely uninspired.

"Why is this so hard?" I wondered, wandering around, one shirt in my arms (for me). A woman bumped into me with her cart. Two children were crying nearby. People were picking items up. Putting them down. Getting in line. Standing. Waiting. Arguing.

I hung the shirt back on the rack and closed my eyes for a minute. Trying to find center and not seeing it anywhere. "I should go," I told myself. Too tired. Too frustrated. When I let my eyelids open, my gaze connected--for a split second--with a stranger passing by. She looked at me and smiled. 

photo from: thegiftedblog.com

It felt like a gift.

The presents we bestow this time of year, what we carefully place under the tree, deserve far less consideration and importance than the everyday gestures, the presence, the gifts within us. The ones that are impossible to wrap but so very simple to give. The ones that light up the season and can be delivered to someone in need, at just the right moment and just the right time without any thought, inspiration or planning. Not by a man in a sleigh or a red suit. But by us, as we are.

Namaste' and best wishes for the most joyous gifts of the season.

 

Raising the white flag.

After many written communications, Robert E. Lee and General Grant decided to meet in Appomattox. It was April 9, 1865. Lee’s men ­– his army – were tired. Exhausted. Weary. Surrounded.

Surrender.

No way out. A last resort.

I hear the word and I feel unease. The defeat in every syllable. The end of the rope. A pair of cards folding on the table. A white flag raising admist chaos.

But what about surrender in grander terms? Does it hold the same negative anxiousness? Surrender, I mean, in regards to, not just every now and then acts, but as a part of our everyday living. The yoga practice of ishvara-pranidhana, one of Patanjali’s niyamas, or internal disciplines. Surrendering to a higher power.

God. The universe. Science. Surrender, ishvara-pranidhana, does not require a single belief point or source. Single-mindedness. Or perfection.

What I find most challenging about this niyama is breaking long-rooted beliefs in how we view control. Control, we say, is positive. It makes us the navigators of our own lives. Our work. Our path. Our love. Our plan. And it provides comfort in a chaotic world.

But control is an illusion. A pretty façade on a building that cannot be entered before it is time; its rooms, its walls, its state all unknown until the day life pushes us inside.

Four and a half years ago, I started to have health problems that rattled everything I thought was in my purview. A healthy lifestyle, exercise, was supposed to save me from becoming sick with anything, including this autoimmune disorder I got. But it did not ­– because the life of our bodies, is, scary as it sounds, largely out of our control.

The first response to illness is to grab tighter to the things we think we can control. We hold our jobs closer. Our family. Plan our days and the rest of our lives with new knowledge and awareness but fiercer grasping. And then we try to find our footing again in the world.

But such a tight grip is not sustainable. We cannot control how our todays or tomorrows unravel. Ishvara-pranidhana is not giving up, but letting go. Allowing some of the anxiousness of life and hardship to fall through our fingertips. It is the acknowledgement that, for the success of all humankind, our will has to take second to the will of the Universe. Trusting it to give abundance, and, yes, sometimes, take it away. 

Surrender. Let it bring ease. 

Photo credit | via Pinterest

To asana or not to asana.

source

My dear friend and I walked along a trail earlier this month. We talked yoga, as we often do. Spirituality. Beliefs. Change. Though new to yogic philosophy, he naturally embodies it. Reading. Learning. Living it, honestly and truthfully.

"You should start your asana practice," I tell him.

The words come out of him slowly. "I want to wait until I know more."

"You just have to... begin," I say. "It'll help you with the rest."

But how does something our culture sees as exercise – or stretching – help with philosophy? Spirituality, even? Asana's roots extend far deeper than what many of us experience or see in studios. Yes, asana builds flexibility and strength. Lets us touch our toes. Provides us with exercise. But its origin...its origin is as a tool. As a beautiful, loving, practical way to ground the body for meditation. Prepare for periods of sitting and stillness. Quiet the mind. Love. Be.

After all, silence the internal dialogue and chatter, and you are in the middle of yoga. The middle of everything. Life. Suddenly, in your vinyasa, the past is the past and the future is not even a thought. There is no mourning. No analyzing. No wondering. Just presence. Tranquility. Serenity. 

BKS Iyengar, founder of Iyengar yoga said, "The body is the bow, asana is the arrow, and the soul is the target." 

So, friend, time to step on your mat.





 

With Gratitude.

photo from kerryskronicles.blogspot.com

Yesterday, in yoga class, the teacher talked about gratitude on and off the mat. Thankfulness for all the ways our body can move. For how the universe sustains us. For the many things we take for granted or forget about when things fail to go according to plan.

There I was, frustrated and struggling through a vinyasa, my mind on the fact that I haven't been able to put weight on my wrists for these last five months. My yoga practice and the many things I want to do have been limited. No working in the garden. No arm-strengthening. No down dog. Tough to love on the cat. Upsetting and annoying, yes. But as she spoke, how could my awareness not be drawn to the two legs supporting me? To the warm home I had to return to? The clean water? The good food and sustenance?

Odd that in this American culture, we officially designate only a day to this. What about the rest of the year? Why wasn't gratitude top of my mind in yoga class? Driving in my car? Having lunch with a friend?

The catch-22 is: Our lives are so abundant that our inconveniences and disappointments take center stage. With all of our basic needs met, there's nothing left to wish better. That's how good most of us have it. Which is great. Except it means it can sometimes take seeing someone far worse off to evoke gratitude. And gratitude...is an unmatched feeling. When it washes over us, it invites the sunshine in like nothing else. Suddenly:

Awe.  
Wonder. 
Amazement. 
Contentment.
The desire to hold dear and tight.
Life is good.

“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”
 — Thornton Wilder

So how to get that feeling more and more? Cultivate. Gratitude is observance and mindset and action, which means it starts with looking around. Noticing others' struggles. How they live. How much they live with. Mindset. Feel the richness of what you have. If it meets your needs, dare to let it be enough. Know someone is living with more and someone is living with far less. Act. Volunteer. Step forward. Stand up. Do the right thing. Gratitude is, perhaps, as much about what we are able to give as it is being thankful about what we receive.

I wish each of you, American or not, a wonderful day of thanks tomorrow. But, remember, long after the turkey is gone or the sun sets: Gratitude doesn't live in a November day; it lives in the grand scheme of things. In being happy with what we have. What is offered to us. And the many ways the world provides for us. All year, every year.

“Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn’t learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn’t learn a little, at least we didn’t get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn’t die; so, let us all be thankful.” 
— Buddha