I just finished a fantastic book called, Radical Acceptance, by Tara Brach. This book and teacher was highly recommended by my meditation teacher Scott McBride of ClearLight Meditation. I take his suggestions very seriously.
One of the quotes that impacted me so greatly from the book was the following: "The sacred pause is the gateway to the path of awakening."
I was thrilled to read that since I have been working "the pause" in my classes for the past few months. I’ve found that it is a pause not a movement that allows me to directly experience myself and my connection to others. I’ve found that it is the pause at the end of the exhale or the peak of the inhale when I feel most alive. In meditation, I find that it is the pause and space between thoughts that allows me to feel the penetration of the divine.
Since my surgery in November, my life has become more “pause” and less speed. I really like the way that it feels. My intention to keep strengthening my ability to pause in my life as my foot heals and I begin to move around in the world more easily. It is so easy to go back to sleep.
As a teacher, I've been offering many more pauses in my classes. We can pause in high plank or in child’s pose. We can pause at the end of an inhale or exhale. As we strengthen our ability to pause on our yoga mats, we will begin to practice pausing in our lives.
We can learn to pause before we speak or react. That is where the good stuff starts to happen. Pausing and becoming more mindful of our words and actions is a life changing practice for sure.
I invite you to start small. Trying pausing your mind by taking a few deep breaths at red lights or while waiting for your emails to download.
The pause is, as Tara Brach wrote, the gateway to the path of awakening. That is enough to get me to press that pause button in every area of my life.
Peace.
Cara
Peend trying it.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Lean into the Sharp Points
Zen masters advise us to “lean into the sharp points” and to practice walking the “razor’s edge”. Ride the rollercoaster of life with your eyes wide open and your arms thrown up in the air, they say. Let go. Jump out of the nest. Surrender to the moment. Just be with “what is”, right?
Here’s the problem. It is our natural instinct is to run from pain. It's in our genetic code to avoid uncomfortable situations. We don’t want to feel uneasy. We spend our lives trying to escape from painful moments. We don’t want to walk the razor’s edge and we certainly don’t want to lean into any sharp points!
Here’s the problem. It is our natural instinct is to run from pain. It's in our genetic code to avoid uncomfortable situations. We don’t want to feel uneasy. We spend our lives trying to escape from painful moments. We don’t want to walk the razor’s edge and we certainly don’t want to lean into any sharp points!
Over the past several years, I have experienced a universal truth that the divine works in paradox. What seems big is really small and what seems small is really big. What we want to do we shouldn’t do, and the places that scare us are exactly the places we need to go. “Even if every inch of our being wants to run in the opposite direction, we stay here,” writes Pema Chödrön “There is no other way to enter the sacred world… It’s all raw material for waking up. We can use everything that occurs to show us where we are asleep and how we can wake up completely, utterly, without reservations.”
The practice of Zen and the practice of yoga train us to stand in the center of our lives with our eyes wide opened. No matter what comes up, we learn to stay with “what is”. In order to live large we need to fully see, touch, smell and taste every morsel of fear, anger and disappointment. “When we protect ourselves so we won’t feel pain, that protection becomes like armor, like armor that imprisons the softness of the heart”, writes Chödrön. Overtime, the armor gets thick and heavy. We become separated from others and we close down. Leaning into the sharp points is simply about penetrating the armor that surrounds our heart. And in so doing, writes Chödrön, “the armor begins to fall apart and we find that we can breathe deeply and relax.
Once again, our yoga mats provide us with the perfect setting to practice this. Every down dog and every up dog is raw material for waking up. Every deep breath can help to dissolve the armor that surrounds our heart. Every time we lean into the sharp points we break down the barriers that separate us from the world. In this openness, we discover the awakened heart, or what the Buddhists call the bodhichitta,.
Over these next few weeks during your yoga practice, try to lean into the sharp points and you may just discover a pure, uncensored state of joy and connection. So throw your hands up in the air, keep your eyes wide open and get ready for the ride of your life.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Abandon All Hope
Over the past several years, I have immersed myself in Buddhist teachings. What an incredible journey inward it has been. There has been one teaching in particular, however, that I don’t think I fully understood… until now. That is to abandon hope.
In her book, When Things Fall Apart, Pema Chodron wrote:
If we’re willing to give up hope that insecurity and pain can be exterminated, then we can have the courage to relax with the groundlessness of our situation. This is the first step
on the path.
My western mind and my sort of type “A” personality has always twisted and turned around the notion of not hoping, not improving or not striving… until now.
I have had my leg cast on for over seven weeks. As I continue to practice the Stationary Sequence, my poses continue to be extremely modified and simple. There is not much that I can do to change that. I cannot heal my foot any faster and I cannot take off the cast. For the past few weeks, I have abandoned the hope that I would soon be able to balance on my left foot or take a deep Warrior 2. It’s not happening anytime soon. I have had to “relax with the groundlessness of my situation”. I have had to learn to let go. This has been a tremendous gift.
Chodron continues:
Hope and fear come from feeling that we lack something; they come from a sense of poverty. We can’t simply relax with ourselves. We hold on to hope, and hope robs us of the present moment.
In abandoning hope in my yoga practice, I have relaxed with my body, my left foot and my black cast. Since I wasn’t so busy fixing myself, I have allowed myself to hang out in the present moment and observe. Wow. I have really felt my poses perhaps for the first time in my life.
Maybe this is what my Buddhist teachers have been saying. At some point, we need to just let go of the need to push, tweak and fix ourselves. We need to let go of the hope that a teacher, an assist or a fancy pose will “improve” us. We should relax with ourselves now, with all of our issues and experience the poses of our lives. I am learning that at some point we need to abandon hope, let go of the control handles and cruise for a bit.
Perhaps I can learn to do this in my life “off the mat”. Perhaps I don’t always have to fix things, improve things or have things be perfect. Perhaps I can abandon the hope that something or someone out there will “fix” me. Perhaps then, I can start experiencing my life more fully.
Peace.
In her book, When Things Fall Apart, Pema Chodron wrote:
If we’re willing to give up hope that insecurity and pain can be exterminated, then we can have the courage to relax with the groundlessness of our situation. This is the first step
on the path.
My western mind and my sort of type “A” personality has always twisted and turned around the notion of not hoping, not improving or not striving… until now.
I have had my leg cast on for over seven weeks. As I continue to practice the Stationary Sequence, my poses continue to be extremely modified and simple. There is not much that I can do to change that. I cannot heal my foot any faster and I cannot take off the cast. For the past few weeks, I have abandoned the hope that I would soon be able to balance on my left foot or take a deep Warrior 2. It’s not happening anytime soon. I have had to “relax with the groundlessness of my situation”. I have had to learn to let go. This has been a tremendous gift.
Chodron continues:
Hope and fear come from feeling that we lack something; they come from a sense of poverty. We can’t simply relax with ourselves. We hold on to hope, and hope robs us of the present moment.
In abandoning hope in my yoga practice, I have relaxed with my body, my left foot and my black cast. Since I wasn’t so busy fixing myself, I have allowed myself to hang out in the present moment and observe. Wow. I have really felt my poses perhaps for the first time in my life.
Maybe this is what my Buddhist teachers have been saying. At some point, we need to just let go of the need to push, tweak and fix ourselves. We need to let go of the hope that a teacher, an assist or a fancy pose will “improve” us. We should relax with ourselves now, with all of our issues and experience the poses of our lives. I am learning that at some point we need to abandon hope, let go of the control handles and cruise for a bit.
Perhaps I can learn to do this in my life “off the mat”. Perhaps I don’t always have to fix things, improve things or have things be perfect. Perhaps I can abandon the hope that something or someone out there will “fix” me. Perhaps then, I can start experiencing my life more fully.
Peace.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
One Step at a Time
It has been over four weeks since my surgery. I cannot believe that I have been hobbling around on one leg for over a month. With still a long haul in front of me, I am learning to not look ahead too often but to take one day at a time.
By far, the most profound lesson I have learned so far during this time is that there is a wonderful sense of peace in my life when I slow down and take one step at a time. At this point in my recovery, my work and family life almost resembles that of pre-surgery days. However, there are many obstacles in the way of my living at my pre-surgery pace. In other words, I have to slow down and show up for every step that I take or I might just find myself on the floor in a tangle of crutches.
In the past month, my life has been broken down into micro-movements. For example, when getting a glass of water, I must break my movements down as follows: Lean right, balance, reach for the glass, re-balance, reach for the faucet, fill the glass, steady yourself, now drink.
The crazy thing is that I find myself naming these small steps in my mind. Step down the stair, balance, crutches down, foot down, balance. This practice has helped me stay to present and focused during the most basic movements of life.
This mental exercise (which some may think borders on compulsive behavior!) has profoundly shifted my yoga practice and my teaching. One step at a time. One breath at a time. There is no rush. Move slowly and precisely.
One step at a time. One breath at a time. Slow and steady. That is mindfulness. And in mindfulness there is space. And in that space, we find peace.
Cara
By far, the most profound lesson I have learned so far during this time is that there is a wonderful sense of peace in my life when I slow down and take one step at a time. At this point in my recovery, my work and family life almost resembles that of pre-surgery days. However, there are many obstacles in the way of my living at my pre-surgery pace. In other words, I have to slow down and show up for every step that I take or I might just find myself on the floor in a tangle of crutches.
In the past month, my life has been broken down into micro-movements. For example, when getting a glass of water, I must break my movements down as follows: Lean right, balance, reach for the glass, re-balance, reach for the faucet, fill the glass, steady yourself, now drink.
The crazy thing is that I find myself naming these small steps in my mind. Step down the stair, balance, crutches down, foot down, balance. This practice has helped me stay to present and focused during the most basic movements of life.
This mental exercise (which some may think borders on compulsive behavior!) has profoundly shifted my yoga practice and my teaching. One step at a time. One breath at a time. There is no rush. Move slowly and precisely.
One step at a time. One breath at a time. Slow and steady. That is mindfulness. And in mindfulness there is space. And in that space, we find peace.
Cara
Sunday, November 30, 2008
My Left Foot - Part 3: The Wonderful Stationary Sequence
This morning I practiced yoga for the first time since my surgery. I used the template of our Stationary Sequence and modified poses according to what I could and could not do. It was down right fun. I used a stool for most of the standing poses and was able to move through most of the floor poses without too much fuss. Words cannot explain how tremendously wonderful it felt for me to move my body after two weeks of being literally “stationary”.
We often tell out students at Verge Power Yoga that there is a pose for everyone in our Stationary Sequence. Our teachers are more than happy to modify poses for our students prior to class or even during our classes.
We have students practicing at Verge with hip, knee and shoulder replacements. We have students with spinal fusions and chronic low back issues. We have students with rods, plates, screws and more! If you have been off your mat due to an injury or illness, please email me at cara@vergepoweryoga.com and I will personally help you modify the Stationary Sequence so that you can return to practice.
The beauty of the Stationary Sequence practice (or any practice for that matter) is that we can all be doing the same pose but at the same time, all look a bit different. Bottom line is that our yoga practice should serve us individually and based on what we bring into the center with us on any given day, i.e. headache, busy mind, tight hamstrings, etc.
My modified practice this morning served me in a big way. I felt cleansed physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. It was a perfect practice because I did the best that I could do with what was available to me today which is very different than where I was two weeks ago. I rested in savasana feeling grateful to be amongst the physically mobile population again.
I return to teaching tomorrow and cannot wait to see everyone. I’ll continue to practice at home for a few more days and then move my stool to Verge for classes there. . You’ll be seeing me “blissed out” in a modified pose in our Stationary classes by the end of the week.
Until then… Peace.
Cara
We often tell out students at Verge Power Yoga that there is a pose for everyone in our Stationary Sequence. Our teachers are more than happy to modify poses for our students prior to class or even during our classes.
We have students practicing at Verge with hip, knee and shoulder replacements. We have students with spinal fusions and chronic low back issues. We have students with rods, plates, screws and more! If you have been off your mat due to an injury or illness, please email me at cara@vergepoweryoga.com and I will personally help you modify the Stationary Sequence so that you can return to practice.
The beauty of the Stationary Sequence practice (or any practice for that matter) is that we can all be doing the same pose but at the same time, all look a bit different. Bottom line is that our yoga practice should serve us individually and based on what we bring into the center with us on any given day, i.e. headache, busy mind, tight hamstrings, etc.
My modified practice this morning served me in a big way. I felt cleansed physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. It was a perfect practice because I did the best that I could do with what was available to me today which is very different than where I was two weeks ago. I rested in savasana feeling grateful to be amongst the physically mobile population again.
I return to teaching tomorrow and cannot wait to see everyone. I’ll continue to practice at home for a few more days and then move my stool to Verge for classes there. . You’ll be seeing me “blissed out” in a modified pose in our Stationary classes by the end of the week.
Until then… Peace.
Cara
Friday, November 28, 2008
My Left Foot - Part 2: Learning to Listen
Our bodies are truly amazing instruments. And the healing process is flat out a phenomenal experience. I am 10 days out of surgery and, if I listen carefully, my body will tell me what and how much I can do on a day to day basis. And, what I am able to do right now is not a lot.
I can honestly say that I have just about surrendered to my body’s advice to rest a lot and drink a lot. I fully believe that our bodies need an abundance of rest in order to heal. I am learning that there is no substitution for quality rest and there are no short cuts.
The few times I have pushed myself by doing too much in the past ten days, I have paid the price with throbbing and pain in my left foot. I have learned the hard way that I cannot fool my body by squeezing in one more activity or one more phone call. In the past, I could ignore the physical signals that whispered to me when it was time to stop pushing. Right now, my body is in full charge and will scream at me when it is time to stop and rest. I think that I am actually learning to really listen to my body.
Listening is an incredibly important skill to develop. We are asked to listen in school, at work, to our kids, to our spouses. But do we really listen? I know that I don’t always listen when I should be. I think that I am listening but I’m really not. There are times during my yoga practice when I don’t listen to my body. There are times when I don’t listen to the teacher (yes, it is true). There are times when I don’t listen to my kids or my husband!
But now, due to this surgery, I’ve been forced to listen carefully. I will need to continue to listen carefully in order to facilitate healing. If I don’t listen, I feel physical pain. If I do listen, I let go and allow myself to rest and heal.
In many ways, this surgery has been a gift. I have a feeling that my improved listening skills will be one of the most special gifts of all.
Thank you for reading and listening to my story.
Peace. Cara
I can honestly say that I have just about surrendered to my body’s advice to rest a lot and drink a lot. I fully believe that our bodies need an abundance of rest in order to heal. I am learning that there is no substitution for quality rest and there are no short cuts.
The few times I have pushed myself by doing too much in the past ten days, I have paid the price with throbbing and pain in my left foot. I have learned the hard way that I cannot fool my body by squeezing in one more activity or one more phone call. In the past, I could ignore the physical signals that whispered to me when it was time to stop pushing. Right now, my body is in full charge and will scream at me when it is time to stop and rest. I think that I am actually learning to really listen to my body.
Listening is an incredibly important skill to develop. We are asked to listen in school, at work, to our kids, to our spouses. But do we really listen? I know that I don’t always listen when I should be. I think that I am listening but I’m really not. There are times during my yoga practice when I don’t listen to my body. There are times when I don’t listen to the teacher (yes, it is true). There are times when I don’t listen to my kids or my husband!
But now, due to this surgery, I’ve been forced to listen carefully. I will need to continue to listen carefully in order to facilitate healing. If I don’t listen, I feel physical pain. If I do listen, I let go and allow myself to rest and heal.
In many ways, this surgery has been a gift. I have a feeling that my improved listening skills will be one of the most special gifts of all.
Thank you for reading and listening to my story.
Peace. Cara
Saturday, November 22, 2008
My Left Foot - Part 1: The Basics
Stability has been the mantra in my classes, on my yoga mat and in my life for over 5 years. You may have heard me say in class, “find physical stability before physical movement, seek mental stability before acting or reacting or sit in emotional stability before speaking.”
While I intend to practice stability in my life, I have been living with an unstable left foot for most of my adult years. Last Wednesday I had some repair work done on my shaky left foot. The procedure in layman’s terms is called a Corner Fusion. Simply put, my doctors screwed together a joint in the top of my foot that I had dislocated 25 years ago.
The injury occurred during a touch football game in high school. Juniors against the seniors I recall. As the running back, I cut right, grabbed the ball from the QB, cut left and ran for a touchdown! It was in the pivot that I dislocated the joint and experienced a common football injury called a Lisfranc Injury. Back then however, it was called a “bone bruise”. After a quick x-ray in the ER and I was sent on my merry way with a pair of crutches.
Over the past 24 years, however, I have injured and re-injured that left foot in different ways. There have been ligament tears, nerve issues and sprains. Balancing on that foot on my yoga mat has always presented a huge challenge and has helped me learn to be patient and compassionate.
In search for some answers to my stability issues, I found Dr. Nick Romansky of Healthmark Foot and Ankle Associates, a well known podiatrist to professional athletes including the US Soccer teams at the World Cup, Olympics and more. He and I went on a quest to find the reason behind the chronic pain in my foot.
Dr. Romansky told me that my yoga practice had kept me physically balanced to date but that as I age, I run the risk of knee and hip issues due to the misalignment and instability in the foundation of my body, my feet. Those words caught my attention.
After CT Scans, MRI’s, multiple x-rays and physical therapy, his team of doctors reached the diagnosis that I had dislocated a joint at the top of my left foot that day on the football field. Simply put, what should be the most stable joint in the foot, he said, was completely unstable. My “keystone” was unstable and was becoming increasingly unable to support my body in a balanced way.
That was all I needed to hear. I know from my own yoga experience and training that our stability begins in our feet, our foundation. If the foundation is weak there will be excess stress on the body and eventually, stuff will break down.
So on Wednesday, my foot became more stable with a lot of expertise and some screws. I will not be able to bear weight on my left foot for about two months. It will be one of the most challenging practices of my life. I look forward to this time being one of growth and evolution. I will share my challenges with you in this blog that I plan to update a few times per week.
So, be grateful for your healthy feet and for your stable foundation.
I hope to stay connected to you all thru this blog and with your comments. Please share. I’ll be back to teaching shortly after Thanksgiving.
Peace.
Cara
While I intend to practice stability in my life, I have been living with an unstable left foot for most of my adult years. Last Wednesday I had some repair work done on my shaky left foot. The procedure in layman’s terms is called a Corner Fusion. Simply put, my doctors screwed together a joint in the top of my foot that I had dislocated 25 years ago.
The injury occurred during a touch football game in high school. Juniors against the seniors I recall. As the running back, I cut right, grabbed the ball from the QB, cut left and ran for a touchdown! It was in the pivot that I dislocated the joint and experienced a common football injury called a Lisfranc Injury. Back then however, it was called a “bone bruise”. After a quick x-ray in the ER and I was sent on my merry way with a pair of crutches.
Over the past 24 years, however, I have injured and re-injured that left foot in different ways. There have been ligament tears, nerve issues and sprains. Balancing on that foot on my yoga mat has always presented a huge challenge and has helped me learn to be patient and compassionate.
In search for some answers to my stability issues, I found Dr. Nick Romansky of Healthmark Foot and Ankle Associates, a well known podiatrist to professional athletes including the US Soccer teams at the World Cup, Olympics and more. He and I went on a quest to find the reason behind the chronic pain in my foot.
Dr. Romansky told me that my yoga practice had kept me physically balanced to date but that as I age, I run the risk of knee and hip issues due to the misalignment and instability in the foundation of my body, my feet. Those words caught my attention.
After CT Scans, MRI’s, multiple x-rays and physical therapy, his team of doctors reached the diagnosis that I had dislocated a joint at the top of my left foot that day on the football field. Simply put, what should be the most stable joint in the foot, he said, was completely unstable. My “keystone” was unstable and was becoming increasingly unable to support my body in a balanced way.
That was all I needed to hear. I know from my own yoga experience and training that our stability begins in our feet, our foundation. If the foundation is weak there will be excess stress on the body and eventually, stuff will break down.
So on Wednesday, my foot became more stable with a lot of expertise and some screws. I will not be able to bear weight on my left foot for about two months. It will be one of the most challenging practices of my life. I look forward to this time being one of growth and evolution. I will share my challenges with you in this blog that I plan to update a few times per week.
So, be grateful for your healthy feet and for your stable foundation.
I hope to stay connected to you all thru this blog and with your comments. Please share. I’ll be back to teaching shortly after Thanksgiving.
Peace.
Cara
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