Tonight is the longest night of the year in the Northern Hemisphere (so hopefully you have someone to snuggle up against to share it with!). Today officially starts winter. It sort of feels like we have been experiencing winter already. That means from this day on, the days get longer. One would think warmer times are ahead… right? But no—the coldest days are yet to come.
Similarly, around June 21st when summer begins, it feels like the solstice is nothing more than a formality—the summer has been around for a few weeks. But the truth is that it’s all only a perception. While we have had some cold days and even one snow (in Connecticut anyway), the truth of it all is that it hasn’t overall been that cold. Today my car showed it was in the 60s just to make this point.
My 19-year-old daughter’s birthday is in June. Most years, when planning her party, I had this crazy misconception that it would be warm during the planning phase of her parties. While some years it was, much to my dismay most of the time it was rather cold and rainy—and almost always too cold at night to keep any shorts or short sleeves on that one may or may not have worn during the day.
The lesson here is that even though things may look like something is happening (days getting longer from here, for example), there is a lag from the change and perception to when things really shake down, begin to happen, and take form.
The winter has only begun, but the days are actually getting longer [yay]. The heat from the longer sun will not be apparent until spring—and it won’t be felt at its maximum potential until after the summer solstice in SIX months from now, when the days will be technically getting shorter. What was a habit for longer will linger.
When we start new habits for a desired change such as losing weight, eating differently, or beginning a new routine, the effects will not take place until a long time after.
Does that mean we should quit and give up??? NO, No & no.
Like the sun providing longer days as of today, the toughest part is truly yet to come before reaping the benefits. Nature shows us this through seasonal changes.
This picture shows it well. The bigger arrow (perhaps depicting will for change) is fighting against all the old that is established. It’s a long, hard road to get past that fight. The only way this larger arrow can lose against all those smaller little ones is to give up and join them in the direction the will does not want to go.
Expecting to see a difference in the climate tomorrow or even next month is as unrealistic as eating well for a few days and expecting to fit into those old skinny jeans. One way to guarantee that you will never shimmy into those jeans is to defy natural laws—give up, order a pizza, and enjoy a six-pack just a week after starting. It just doesn’t work that way.
Change takes time. A lot of time. While the earth is tilting back toward the sun tomorrow, it will actually be colder and tougher for a while, weather-wise, before the benefits of that tilt take effect.
So enjoy the process… believe and trust in it. It’s really the ONLY way. Results are never immediate. Don’t give up. Keep your own light shining. And do what you need to do over and over to get the results you want. It’s the only way to reach your goals.
One day I will follow this advice too! Lol 😊
Happy 2018 Winter Solstice!
Namaste
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Wide awake and pitch black. A quick look at the bedside clock reveals it’s only 4:40am. I still have over another hour to sleep.
My mind races with things I’m excited to do today. I don’t know how I could get them done, but I want to try to fit them in if at all possible. I would love to start the holiday baking. I have a scarf to finish and several more origami boxes for gifts to make. And definitely squeeze in a run. An appointment and work are the anchors of what I need to work around. I mentally strategize about how to make the fun stuff happen. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, looking back this crazy thought process was Clue #1 that I was anxious and trying to vet my energy in a positive way.
Then I remember it’s my husband Daren’s birthday! Maybe I should get up and make scones to surprise him with? I can do that, then maybe run before logging into work since I’m teleworking today. That would be a fine start to the day.
I forgo the attempt to go back to sleep and decide on birthday scones. Clue #2 that I wasn’t quite right should have been when I went into the bathroom for my Ayurvedic morning routine and didn’t quite screw a cap back on one of my oils before picking it up again… by the cap. Ugh, what a yucky mess.
I stumble downstairs in the dark, all set to make blueberry scones. The three cats are milling for breakfast and are so very underfoot. The sink is sort of full and the dishwasher needs to be emptied. I need to clear these things to bake—everything is in my way.
My heart starts to race. Clue #3. Things not going the way I expect. I take a deep breath and remind myself that nothing I am doing is truly necessary, has a deadline, and is only something I would like to do—not vital.
For a few minutes I feel calm and present as I put everything away, feed the cats, and rush over to open the blinds. Why am I rushing? Clue #4.
I also notice that last night we left a mess of pillows and blankets strewn all about the living room. Pet toys are everywhere. And there is cat puke to boot. I realize I’m rushing and that opening blinds can take place after I start to bake. Why do I need to keep reminding myself to slow down this morning? Clue #5.
I walk very slowly on purpose back to the kitchen and begin taking out the ingredients and supplies. I preheat the oven, start the coffee maker (how could I not have done that first thing? Clue #6), and begin assembling what I hope to be scones in a short 20 minutes or so.
Moments later my heart starts to race again. My breath is erratic. Clue #7.
Something is so wrong. But what?
Why, last Wednesday evening, did my son Tom snap at me when I asked him to keep the dog’s training collar on? I immediately get angry about this even though I didn’t at the time. The look of disgust on his face 10 minutes later when I asked him politely if something was wrong while I was in this same kitchen at this same counter, assembling the makings of a Thanksgiving dish.
“Like what?” I asked.
“Forget it, Ma! I’m taking the dog for a walk,” as he stormed out the door.
How dare he?
At the time I almost laughed it off. Immediately after the door slammed behind Tom, I asked my husband if I said anything wrong. He affirmed I had not in the very least. Hours later, while at his girlfriend’s house, Tom texted me to say he was sorry about snapping earlier and that he loves me. The whole episode was just not a big deal.
So why am I so upset this morning? Clue #8.
I start mixing the wet ingredients into the dry, being careful not to overmix. As I prepare the counter with a light dusting of flour before turning the dough onto the floured surface, I consider how much I cannot stand when someone accuses me of something I didn’t do and then gets mad at me for it.
Now my heart is really racing. I feel as if my life is at stake and I need to fight for it. Why am I even thinking about this now? Clue #9.
I continue to work, but my hands are shaking. I can’t concentrate. Clue #10.
I want to bring these things up with my son and husband. Unearth them. Find out what they were thinking. Clue #11.
There are two ways this story could go.
I could do just that… or I could remember that I have PTSD.
This morning, thankfully, I went with the latter.
In fact as soon as I came to terms with the very real fact that I have PTSD last summer it was an option at almost all moments when I had this feeling that something was just terribly wrong and at some point it started to feel like my life was at stake. My issue nowadays is that I always feel terrible when I miss the earlier clues. Sometimes I can catch them and breath or take a medication. But today I missed them all before I was fully triggered.
As I begin kneading the dough I thought more deeply about what I’m really, really feeling. I was likely triggered by Tom’s reaction simply by being in the kitchen in same way with the same light while it was dark outside. That trigger lead to thinking about my step-son months ago, but it really led all the way deep down into the child inside me that became frozen in a certain state 40+ years ago.
Being accused of something that wasn’t my fault, something I didn’t do, or something I couldn’t have possibly known was the norm. It often led to consequences where I was abused, sometimes very badly. My mom was often a bystander, not wanting to be abused herself. She would often look away or side with my father (the perpetrator). Someone standing by while I was unfairly accused hurt even more. Even though he didn’t mean it, Daren keeping his back turned or refusing to talk to me about the supposed wedding cake incident feels like a bystander not helping the child inside me in need.
Since this past summer I learned that long-term childhood abuse is particularly complex if it was at the hands of a caregiver, because as a child your actual survival is at stake. You need your caregivers to live. That terrified part of me has become frozen in time. I often handle situations like this and a handful of others that would have led to abuse in a similar manner. During the initial encounter I’m very strong. I act as if nothing is wrong, as I had to do as a child just to get through the episode. Crying wasn’t allowed, even while getting hit- in fact it made things worse. I learned to deal with an incident by being strong and doing whatever I need to do. The hurt, terror and anger always came later and still does until this day when an old wound is rubbed, some time has passed, and my body feels safe and I’m re-triggered. Which often enough strangely leads me to feel as if I’m in survival mode. My heart, my breath, the crazed thoughts. My lower brain’s alarm signals to me that I need to fight for my rights, get out, get even, I’m being wronged, etc.
We all have that lower brain (the reptilian one without higher rational thought-like a crocodile). Mine recognizes triggers that were necessary for survival long ago and all our lower brains possess the ability to shut down the executive functioning portion of the brain if survival really is at stake when we need to flight, flight or freeze. It’s how we are built. The problem with PTSD is that sometimes the danger is only perceived and not even real. If the person doesn’t catch it, they have an episode which isn’t pretty. When I’m already anxious before I’m triggered I’m far more likely to not notice.
While folding blueberries into the scone dough, my higher and lower brain were in conflict. The part that I innately identify as me(more or less the higher, rational thinking part of the brain) was telling myself I was alright, I’m only in my kitchen; totally safe- I am and will be ok.
This part of my physical symptoms of being triggered are where adrenaline has entirely flooded my body. I can feel it’s desperate need to be released. I start to boil with heat. I hyperventilate and often cry uncontrollably. The next few hours are always recovery. Sometimes this happens often – several days in a row. I’m told it’s normal as you are going through PTSD treatment to go through time periods like this. When a childhood trauma victim feel safe as an adult- however many years or decades later, the body begins healing itself through bringing up old cellular memories in order to rid the body of deep-rooted habits/reactions/etc that no longer serve it.
I put the scones in the oven and set the timer. I’m lost. What was I going to do next? Did I make the coffee yet? I’m dazed, I’m confused, I’m sad… I’m just overwhelmingly dysfunctional. Daren comes down. Today I can explain my full thought process. We hug. I cry. I can hardly pick up a cup without almost dropping it. The scones are ready. We enjoy them although I can’t finish even one.
Sounds crazy? Yes, I know. But overall, I’m feeling better day by day. I know I need to go through this to get over/past/through – however it’s best phrased “it”. I continue to be patient and greet whatever arises, being careful to not get suckered into false alarms. That’s the trickiest part.
But I’m OK. I’m enjoying the healing, one cell at a time.
Social Media Disclaimer:
Many people often ask me why I so freely share my troubles. I share because I’ve found shame for so long in not being perfect. I’ve felt for too long like damaged goods I’ve learned none of us could ever be perfect and to even try to entertain such a thing or put on that façade is a set up for failure and takes WAY too much energy. We all suffer and we can only gain strength with connection. So I’m living the change I’d like to see by normalizing what is after all very normal.
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I never heard this word until last week. I was starting to plan for the holidays and feeling really festive and excited—until my heart sank thinking about January and the rest of the winter.
I REALLY don’t like the winter. But it’s an inevitable part of life. If I’ve learned anything this year that is positively impacting my life, it is to enjoy the moment, whatever it is, as this too shall pass. Alan Watts wrote a book called This Is It. Meaning, as we are waiting for life to start or get better, we are actually wasting it—because the whole thing, the good, the bad, the ugly… the joys, sweat & tears… and even traffic is “it.”
I hardly noticed the winter until the year I was pregnant with Gabby. She was due in June, and around February I really started nesting. I had a paper calendar on the wall at the time (who didn’t in 1999?), and on the last day of February I excitedly turned the page and saw the beautiful spring picture for March. My heart filled with joy. I was so excited and ready for spring. I went to bed happily anticipating the coming months. But when I woke up, it was still freezing, dark, and wet. Weeks later, it was still freezing, dark, and wet. That same year, as the days turned darker and colder in October, I realized I am one of the thousands I had been hearing in the background who dislike what feels like the never-ending season of winter.
20 years later and I’m still a hater. I want that to change, or at least to accept it the way I can smile and catch myself from feeling grumpy during traffic. This is a totally new concept for me—to accept even a yucky present moment [most of the time anyway] and tell myself that this is really it. This is life. There is nothing else, and even this could be kind of enjoyable when I realize I’m alive and experiencing what exists in the spectrum of living experiences.
So I went to my best ally that I turn to for answers (Google, of course) and asked, “How to enjoy winter?”
Almost every search response turned up this word “Hygge,” pronounced “hoo-guh” (I personally like the way I was pronouncing it in my mind better, but that is neither here nor there). Apparently it’s a Danish word that loosely translates to coziness. The Danish are well known as one of the happiest cultures in the world, but also have one of the more harsh winters with a population of human settlers. What is their secret?
One can look on their own—I’m not going to go bonkers writing it all out—but the general concept is to embrace it, do all the things inside that you’ve been putting off, make time for friends no matter the weather, and indulge in winter foods, clothes, and warm beverages. Embracing it means hunkering down and getting cozy. Lots of candles, soft light, and blankets. Also, going outside every day for a bit no matter how dark or cold. Not only is the fresh air and movement of walking a benefit, but the contrast back into the cozy home makes it all the more sweet.
As I raked leaves at both of our homes this week, covered the stubborn little spring bulbs I recently planted that were poking up, and started to put away the outdoor summer items, I felt a sense of connection to the earth and, dare I say, even slight excitement toward this season for the first time ever.
Being prepared and doubling down on making my home cozier than ever felt right. I ordered non-holiday candles for my windows that I plan not to move until the sun starts to set at an earlier hour next year. I purchased battery-operated string lights for little places in the home near the potted plants I brought in from the outside for the winter for extra light and cheer. I hope to have a fire almost every evening (mental note: need to have the hubby show me how first), so I ordered a ton of firewood just for the occasion. AND I put it on the porch right outside the front door so it stays dry and seasoned—and it is close enough to not groan about having to trek anywhere else outside to get it.
What else?
I’m making a list of movies I’ve always wanted to see. Creating a pile of books to keep in the living room that I want to read this winter. I am putting together exciting crockpot, dessert, and soup recipes to try. I have a list of electronic things I never get to that I want to cross off my mental to-do list forever.
I also made a list of things to do on weeknights and weekends that aren’t as appealing in the warm months because the draw to be outside is so much greater. Some of those things are to use the sauna we have in the basement, cross-country ski (we have a trail within .2 miles from our front door), put together puzzles we bought and never touched, paint, write, color, knit, take online classes to get CEUs or just learn about something I’ve always wanted to know more about, go to plays and musicals at local theaters, visit museums, try new coffee shops…
Just writing it all out again makes me feel like the whole winter might not be enough time for all these great activities! Could it be that I can enjoy these months? I hope so! It still might not shake out to actually be enjoyable, but it absolutely won’t be if I don’t realize all the cool ways I could embrace and make the most of it. Fingers crossed.
If you are one of the many like me who dreads these months and found an idea or two here to make it more bearable—then this was worth the time to write and share.
Here is to embracing it all, because after all, this is it.
~Esterina
Welcome Winter
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My wood pile on the porch. This was taken only yesterday after moving a half cord of wood myself and then making a large tarp to keep it all warm & dry. I put kindling in flower pots. Today the scene is full of snow!
Now a day later.
Welcome Winter
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I have always loved the autumn. The cooler air, the deep, rich colors, the shifts in daylight; and yes—the heavier, warmer foods and attire that are part of the shifting season package. My “Vata Dosha” (the who?—something my yogi friends would get and isn’t too relevant at the moment) is supposed to really not like this time of year. And even though my body has a serious cold intolerance (I mean SERIOUS), I have still always felt some sort of magic in the air, chills notwithstanding.
Somewhere between the cooling temperatures that take place a few weeks post–Labor Day and Thanksgiving sits Halloween—smack dab in the middle-ish of it all. I realize that it’s become a very commercial holiday laced with sweets and costumes, but there had to be a reason that it’s celebrated at the time it is.
I’ve briefly read in the past that it was a Pagan tradition that the church latched onto to help converts to Christianity experience something familiar. I knew about the European tradition of the jack-o’-lantern. And last year, when my husband and I were in South Africa on Halloween Day, I wondered why it wasn’t celebrated much in the Southern Hemisphere.
I grew up going to Catholic school. Halloween for me was exciting, not just for the trick-or-treating, but because the next day was All Saints’ Day and we had no school.
I also know that Mexico celebrates this same time with a Day of the Dead celebration, Día de Muertos.
Saints? The dead? This kind of had something in common, right?
This year I volunteered to teach a yoga class on Halloween evening. While considering how not to avoid saying anything about the day of the year it is in class, I went on an online hunt to find the spiritual meaning behind this tradition. I found it fascinating enough to share what our elders may have been sensing when they established this time of year for this tradition.
I learned that Halloween really isn’t celebrated in the Southern Hemisphere because it’s the seasonal shift from warmth to coolness that makes the veil between our world and others feel thin. Southern Hemisphere traditions mark a similar shift in their own seasonal timing, which makes sense as that time of year mirrors what we are experiencing now.
The idea of a thin veil would make it easier to honor and feel connected to those who have passed—hence Mexico’s Day of the Dead.
But why now?
I couldn’t find much online, even on what I would consider to be “junky” sites. From my own understanding of nature, it actually does make sense that it is now. We just experienced the height of summer, and that strong “yang” energy is starting to dwindle away. The mix of lingering warmth and emerging coolness seems to naturally slow us down and turn us inward.
It’s an interesting time of year from the Ayurvedic perspective, the way I understand it, in that we are entering a cyclical time of letting go, with plant and tree life ending and the preparation of the cold, frozen season ahead. Additionally, at this time the elements feel briefly balanced—earth, water, fire, air, and ether. That balance, paired with the transition from life to dormancy, feels like a natural point of connection to the broader cycles of the universe.
As above, so below—in that the laws of nature are consistent everywhere, in the heavens as on earth. Birth and early life (spring), the high point of life (summer), the elder years and letting go (fall), and the quiet, unseen preparation for new life (winter). There is no true end point—it just continues to cycle and transform.
So without getting any more wonky than I’m starting to sound, I’m going to end it here. If you’ve followed my attempt to explain my crazy point—great! And if not, that’s ok too. Maybe a seed you would like to cultivate has been planted. Or perhaps this is just all a bunch of nonsense that many of us like to dabble in while we have fun celebrating Halloween, watching scary movies, and dressing up as something we normally wouldn’t. It’s all in good fun.
In preparation for my yoga classes this week, I think I’m going to focus on embracing the unknown and the lessons this time of year can offer us—learning to sit with what feels uncertain, honoring cycles of both life and loss, and recognizing that growth often begins in places we can’t yet see clearly.
Enjoy all that nature has to offer!
Peace
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There are some experiences in life that seem almost magical or otherworldly as they happen. Sometimes it is when you meet someone and you get a sense of déjà vu or a flash of unexplained feelings. Or when you hear or read something that just seems to strike some sort of chord within you about its unexplainable truth.
One of the dozen or so times this happened to me is when I had first read that the soul is the connection to the divine (God, nature, or whatever you choose to call all that is). I was so moved by this simple statement. The truth of it was so obvious to me in that moment that it sparked one of those otherworldly flash feelings. The article discussed how the soul doesn’t dish out advice like our loud, animal, thinking brains do. But if you quiet the monkey mind and ask your soul for guidance, the right answer is always there waiting to be heard.
Wow. Yes.
I knew that somewhere but didn’t realize it until then. A few hours later, after mulling it over, I posted something on Facebook about it—a short quote I made up as my own interpretation of this. It had very few “likes.” Guess my Facebook tribe didn’t get it.
Not long after, I heard a podcast about the moral compass. The speaker explained how we experience negative emotions (depression, hopelessness, anxiety, etc.) when we aren’t living according to our moral compass.
Right—that makes sense too. And in my own interpretation, I understood that moral compass connection to be through the soul, which is connected to all that is. When we can’t hear or follow that sound advice and live against it, we feel unhappy.
Then, not long after, I started to better understand the deeper meaning of the yoga I was attracted to. The focused attention of breath and movement quieted the monkey mind. Meditation and quieting the mind became a way to really hear that inner guidance—something that, without question, always knows the right and loving way to be in this world.
I felt so inspired to write this morning because when I opened my email, something caught my eye strongly enough for me to open it. It spoke about the idea that love is not something we earn, but something that exists as our foundation—and that it is from that place that real change happens.
The message brought the idea of the soul and moral compass home for me. It reflected on the idea that we are created in the likeness of the divine (or nature, or whatever we connect to spiritually), and that likeness is love.
The takeaway, as I understood it, is that when we are not living from a place of love, we are out of alignment with who we truly are. And when we are living with love, we are acting in accordance with our deepest truth.
Love… Love it. To me that says it all.
Maybe, just maybe… the allegory of the apple and the suffering that followed was about losing trust in that love. Not listening to the soul. Not having faith in what is.
The soul knows. Perhaps we should listen a bit closer. It’s always there—the quiet, steady voice. Not the loud one demanding attention, but the softer one that doesn’t need to shout to be true.
Maybe listening to it really is a step away from fear and suffering.
Hey… it’s worth a try!
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In the yoga classes I’ve taught this past week, the theme I have been focusing on is “The Harvest.” The chosen reason is the time of the year here in the Northern Hemisphere, especially where we live in New England. The purpose of this theme, however, is not about the crops we need to harvest before the first frost (which was last night), but all “seeds” and “harvests” for the future.
Not sure what it has to do with yoga? If you are still with me, please allow me to explain.
A seed is just a seed all by itself. A lettuce seed alone has nothing but the potential to become lettuce. If I plant lettuce seeds in the ground in the month of April (appropriate for our Connecticut hardiness zone), there is a decent chance it will grow lettuce. But if I plant a cucumber seed in April, it will absolutely not grow into lettuce, and there is a slim chance it will grow at all. Cucumber seeds can only thrive after the last frost. Hence, it would be best to plant them in mid-May for any hope of having a cucumber in August.
So far I have a seed, dirt, and weather that will hypothetically allow me to harvest cucumbers. Seeds, dirt, and weather are not that insanely different from the potential we have as humans to manifest goals or create the type of life we desire. In churches and other spiritual communities and texts, we will often hear the phrase “As above, so below.”
What does that mean? It means the physical world is not all that different from the mental and spiritual worlds. Even though we can’t see those other worlds, the laws of nature are consistent.
Like seeds, our thoughts are just thoughts alone. The properties of a thought will only bring forth that thought. If I’d like to lose 10 pounds, it’s only a thought or wish until I do something with it. Additionally, wishing it will not yield me a promotion or the improvement of a relationship that I’d like to enhance… obviously. With me so far?
Next, that thought is planted or “sown” in my mind. The mind is not so dissimilar to the soil that we plant our seeds in. The thought that I would like to lose 10 lbs in a mind racing with anxiety, wrought with depression, or full of a stressed-out “to do” list will only go into an abyss of other competing and negative thoughts. Similar to how planting a cucumber seed in sand, in the snow, or even in April—the mind’s condition would not be right to help a positive thought manifest into the raw potential it has.
This is where yoga comes in.
Yoga is not solely about moving around in different poses (or asanas). Yoga means to “yoke.” This sacred Sanskrit term is used to signify the connections between spirit, mind, and body. Whether we are moving through poses, meditating, chanting, doing breath work, etc., what we are really doing is creating a connection of our physical body to our mind and spirit—creating a sense of equilibrium between all three, which are really one beautifully operating unit. It’s difficult to have anxiety when the mind, body, and spirit are yoked in meditation or savasana (that last pose in most yoga classes where you actually enjoy laying around doing nothing for a few minutes).
When we are in balance, the mind is clear. When we sow thoughts in a clear mind, it is akin to planting seeds in proper conditions. When the mind is not clear, thoughts will still grow in murky conditions. These conditions often generate unwanted outcomes. For example, anxious thoughts will thrive and create even more anxiety in a busy mind. The mind is constantly creating whether we get involved with what is put in or not—analogous to how weeds will grow without involvement.
Yoga helps clear the mind through pointed focus and awareness. Focusing on breathing while mindfully moving from posture to posture in an average American yoga class (which is what comes to mind for most when they picture yoga) helps us to stay in the present moment and pay less attention to the wandering mind. When we are on the mat and feeling the slight shifts and sensations of our bodies, we are connecting our physical body with our inner selves. While sitting in a posture for a short while, if the body is relaxed and the mind wanders, it becomes very clear what is in there as thoughts arise.
A beautiful characteristic of yoga is that the habits we build on the mat will begin to stay with us off the mat.
A remarkable trait about thoughts is that you can change them.
If we don’t like what is coming up, we don’t have to actually keep thinking them. With a little practice of strengthening the mind, we are able to notice thoughts that aren’t aligned with the life we want and modify them.
Ignoring or changing unwanted thoughts and clearing our minds creates the proper soil and weather conditions to grow an aspired thought into reality. This will give us the boost to perform the last and third step of harvesting what we would like. That last step is the physical work.
If we plant cucumber seeds in mid-May and walk away… maybe we will have some cucumbers, but not likely. Chances increase if we ensure the seeds are properly watered, have the right amount of sun, and weeds are kept at bay—at least initially. As the season progresses and cucumber buddings begin to grow and get stronger, we still need to keep an eye on them, but weeds and unexacting sun and water levels are less likely to halt the progression of physical cucumbers.
We have to do the work. Once new habits are built and ingrained into our neural pathways and routines, less focus needs to be put on sustaining the desired result. Keeping 10 lbs off is easy with good habits because we essentially reap what we sow—physically and mentally. If you don’t have a crop harvest right now, it’s only because you didn’t plant seeds and nurture them in the spring.
The laws of nature as we know them work the same in the mind/spirit world.
Yoga helps us to create the harvest (albeit “life”) we want by cultivating a healthy mind-body-spirit connection. The take home—mind your thoughts, as they can and will create the life and harvest you have.
Today I woke up feeling good. On 7/11/18, 2 months and 2 days ago, I had just one of the worst evenings of my life. The following few days were even more difficult. These last 2 months have been a journey that I realize is life-long and I’m in no rush to finish. I’m enjoying and embracing every step forward and every obstacle that prohibits steps forward, or that even sets me a few back. Obstacles and setbacks are really necessary learning experiences.
Today I’m in gratitude. I might not be in an hour, but for now I am and I’m incredibly grateful.
I could write for hours about how I got here (I promise I won’t). The biggest contributor was my childhood and the mal-adaptive strategies (albeit very normal) I developed early on to deal with life while my brain was forming. One of my newly favorite psychology writers Van Der Kolk calls it Developmental Traumatic Disorder (DTD). This diagnostic explanation is fairly new in the world of psychology. It didn’t quite make it to the DSM-5, which is the latest edition of the manual by which mental health clinicians diagnose and bill for disorders. For now, the closest diagnosis is PTSD, which DTD is a branch of. Particularly for me, for now it’s Delayed Onset, Complex PTSD. It turns out I’m just another statistic, and if someone were watching closely, everything that happened to me could have been predicted.
I’ve been through a gamut of emotions the past few months. Many before 7/11, but even more, and much more intensely since. Crazily, but also not surprisingly, this episode took place just 2 days and exactly 25 years after what was one of the most transformational days of my life at the time when I was 17. I’d written about it before in My Mom. It’s one of my trigger dates, something I don’t think I fully believed in until this summer. I didn’t consciously recognize the significance of how the date triggered me, but my body did. The Body Keeps the Score. It really does.
What I realized most profoundly this summer is that I have PTSD. I really do. Two and a half years ago I had my first panic attack. I was immediately diagnosed with Anxiety and Panic Disorder. Last summer the PTSD diagnosis was added. While I remember telling people about it, somehow I didn’t realize how important it was to my mental recovery to embrace and work on it. In fact, when the true awareness hit me like a ton of bricks just less than a week after 7/11 this year, I was surprised to realize that I’d been sharing and telling people about it prior to then. A few days ago I re-read something I added to my blog page in May, “About Me,” and it was there too! Why wasn’t I working on it?
I wasn’t working on my trauma and PTSD for many reasons. Because it wasn’t urgent and didn’t seem important. Because no one tells you that it’s important. In fact, no one can; it’s something you have to discover on your own when your body is ready. Also because I didn’t have the time or the lifestyle until now. That is why I’m in gratitude this morning. I’m moving in the slow lane and I love it.
From a young age I moved fast. I always had excessive energy. I never understood how anyone could sit at a meeting or in a class and not fidget. I was just always bursting out of my skin. Driving… I had to be in the fast lane. I was constantly assessing for traffic, changing lanes with the flow. Heart always racing. Breath always erratic. I was always, always, always looking for more efficient ways to do things. From driving to folding laundry to cleaning… to redesigning whole work groups and even departments at my job. I was good at it. It was a great outlet for my energy. I was efficient and I helped others to be as well. A good use of my talents. Or so I thought.
Now I’m living in the slow lane. I still have the habit of moving fast, but I catch myself at least 80% or so of the time when I realize that for no good reason my heart is in a lurch or my breath isn’t steady. I stop it and slow down. I manage my breath. I smell the roses. I ground myself in the present and it’s SO much better. I think about that quote about how nothing or everything is a miracle, and see things as beautiful. Even ugly things. I wish we could teach our children this from a young age. Instead we are programmed to “succeed,” to do more and faster, to have it all, to do it all. We are programmed to think we are a failure if we don’t meet this criteria. On paper, by this methodology, I was a huge success.
Take two driven people like my husband and myself, put them together, and what do you have? It’s debatable. 7 years ago I would have thought a match made in heaven. In fact, at our wedding we incorporated the Japanese term of kaizen (continuous improvement) into our vows. Ugh… how I cringe now.
I do believe in continuous improvement, but not in the way it was taught to me (faster, better, do more, etc.). I believe in the slow movement. That less is more. That slowing down and even stillness is where the magic of life lies. Take a look at the pets in our lives. They are content with doing less, watching the world outside the window for hours just as it is. Accepting us for who we are. Not caring about how we are dressed or what fancy letters come after our name. They are, in a sense, more human from a place of connection than we are. I have four pets. I didn’t even have time to pet them before. I would shoo them away when they came to climb on me when I collapsed on the couch after 16 hours of non-stop movement. We had to have our dog in daycare just to get exercise and go out because no one was home long enough to play with him or take him out. Picking him up and dropping him off was another burdened activity on the checklist. Why have pets, kids, a house (2 in our case), a garden, etc., when there was no time to put any love or life into any of it? It’s been a slow realization for me that none of this makes sense. That I was living by a clock and not a compass. It took even longer to do anything meaningful about it. I’m still on that journey and in no rush to any finish line. The unfolding is a beautiful experience that I’m embracing wildly.
I wrote a few paragraphs back that I could write for hours about how I got here. Everyone has their own journey, their own stories, their own level of awareness, and their own (hopefully) point in their life—more often than not in the second half of it—in which they proverbially “wake up.”
My own story started on March 1, 2012. At work I enrolled in a Franklin Covey industry-based class for The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. It was a 2-day seminar that set the path of a new life for me. At the time I was recently remarried and my husband and I were just finishing up the renovations we worked on non-stop for 2 months in our new home. I felt SO alive during those renovations. I loved working on the house. We often stayed up until 1 or 2am in the morning on work nights and didn’t feel the least bit exhausted in the morning.
Once the renovations were finishing up, I started to feel trapped, bored, and useless—something I wasn’t accustomed to feeling. Since my husband and I moved in together with our kids the year before, I felt like I was mentally unraveling. The renovations were a pleasant distraction. I began going to a Bible study at the hospital where I work, which one of my vanpool mates hosted. I hung onto many of the teachings and words, learning new language to explain what I was feeling. The Covey class used similar language but explained it in a different way that opened me up in a special fashion. Three things I really connected with were the concept of a paradigm that we see the world through, that I make my own independent choices constantly, and that to feel in line with who you are, we should be living by a compass and not a clock. Wow. This was mind-blowing and life-changing for me.
Shortly after, I explored the Bible much more. Then I ran into a Bishop Spong book quite by accident (I honestly cannot remember which one). I was never religious, but grew up Catholic and felt like it was a sin to question anything that didn’t make sense. As soon as my mind took me to those questioning places, guilt kicked in and I pushed it away. The John Shelby Spong book provided the freedom to question what made no sense and shift the focus to something that did in a more mystical, metaphysical way where it all made sense. From there I found podcasts on the Centers for Spiritual Living to help time pass while having to drive to Bedford, MA quite often for work—2½ hours each direction. Those podcasts prompted me to read the ghastly large book by Ernest Holmes called The Science of Mind. The world was opening and unfolding in ways I could have never dreamed. From there, for some unknown reason, I started taking yoga classes, which spoke the same type of language. Then I would listen to Alan Watts during my lunch walks and long commutes. All different words, but the same beautiful, timeless messages that make sense.
Years later, in January 2016, I loved yoga and this way of thinking so much that I started yoga teacher training. My regular life with work, the kids, pets, blended family, commute, and constant rush was becoming unsustainable. Why was I adding a full weekend a month commitment to this training? I don’t know, but I just felt compelled.
For some reason I thought in yoga teacher training I would learn more about the poses, teaching, and the actual class. Instead, like the Franklin Covey class years before, it became a personal journey. I quickly decided that it was a necessity to meditate regularly. Once I started quieting my mind and relaxing regularly, I realized that is how a body should feel, and how I lived for the previous 40 years was anything but calm. It started to become unbearable to not feel calm. Combine that with what I now realize is a few PTSD triggers from work at the time, it’s absolutely no surprise that I had my first panic attack exactly when I did, and they escalated from there—completely out of control. My body was releasing 40 years’ worth of emotion that was bubbling just under the surface. The same energy that kept me moving, grooving, and successful was the same energy that was keeping me stressed and mentally unaware that I was damaging myself by not dealing with the trauma that has plagued my mind, body, and spirit.
The past two and a half years since have been transformational. A lot of bad and negative things arose, but more positive learning experiences than anything bad. You have to go through it to move through it. It sounds simple, but it’s much harder than it sounds. It wasn’t until now that I’ve given myself the time and opportunity to heal. But you have to make the time. Your life has to allow it. You have to slow down.
This past summer was rough. I spent hours upon hours writing and allowing myself to remember and experience the anguish of old memories. Many were the same memories that came up during what I now know as PTSD episodes, but I’d felt too ashamed, embarrassed, or dramatic to explore. In writing, crying, thinking, gardening, exercising, waking up in the middle of the night, reading, etc., I started to explore my triggers and where they came from. It made sense. I learned more about how the brain is wired and why I seemed to lose control at times. I logged and shared trigger dates with my family. I allowed myself to feel all that I’ve always pushed away and thought I moved past years ago. It was always there waiting for me to deal with it. I just didn’t slow down enough to hear it.
Today I feel good. Over coffee this morning I saw my husband petting one of the cats who was purring where he shouldn’t be (on a counter). When my husband moved his hand away to finish getting ready for work, our cat Gilmore bipped him on the hand—asking for more petting, which Daren provided. We are in a place where we have time to pet our cats. I am thankful I am in a job where if I woke up in the middle of the night and didn’t sleep for hours, the pressure of getting dressed and driving to the office with a smile is not there because I can telework and I’m part-time. I’m thankful for the mental health breakdown this summer. I spent so much time on the days I wasn’t working living like my pets. I napped in the middle of the day if I needed to. I only ate when I was hungry. If I felt like the sun was calling me, I read and wrote outside. If I felt the urge to move, I went for a walk, run, or bike ride. Listening to my body helped me to attune to what it’s telling me in other ways too. Our bodies are a walking, living, physical communication device. It’s a compass of that path we should be on.
This summer I also listened to The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People CDs that I was provided with from that class back in March of 2012. Listening to the late Stephen Covey’s voice felt like listening to an old friend with sound, sage, timeless advice. I also spent quite a bit of time doing those old exercises again. I created a mission statement, thought about my values and principles, my “rocks,” how I communicate with people, how I think, and how I live. I thought about the life that I want to program. My own talents. Not the talents the world has barked at me—like designing things bigger, better, and faster—but what I wanted to be when I was a kid with no restrictions and what that meant. The imprint I want to leave on the world.
These aren’t overnight answers. If I thought for a New York second that I know them right now, I’d be fooling myself. I’ll be working on them for the rest of my life. I’m trying diligently to listen to the compass. If we quiet ourselves enough, and ask our inner selves for advice, the most profound wisdom is all there, right within us. Our bodies know what we need. They keep the score.
My dog Koji who teaches me all sorts of invaluable lessons without saying a word
Bored at home after carpal tunnel surgery of my right hand this past Monday (9/10), I decided to try to open my right brain by painting with my left hand
My left handed drawing depicting what is supposed to be a sunset
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Last Sunday evening after dinner I was washing a pot. I was washing it very mindfully. I was noticing the feel of the warm, soapy water on my hands. I thought about how the pot was made and how I infused the homemade vegan chili in this large, heavy blue pot with love. Most importantly I was slowly and methodically removing the food that was stuck to the bottom of the pan. I thought back to a lesson I just cannot seem to always remember – “To go faster you must slow down”.
I led a fast-paced adult life until about 2 years ago. So fast that I hardly had time to think. Washing a pot with food stuck to the bottom has always reminded me of this paradox; thanks to a visit from my mother a few years before she passed away. When my children were young and I was first married, we had little money, but I kept a really good home. I felt very on top of things. But I was rushed back then too. I was so rushed that I never really had time to deal with pots that ended up with years’ worth of stains on them. In late 2001 my mother came to visit with her new husband Boris. I had only just met him, and I know he made my mother very happy. He was from Venezuela. My mom talked so much about how laid back he was and how he got her to slow down, grow out her hair, and stop fussing so much with makeup and keeping up the house. I made a big dinner when they came to visit, and afterward there were many pots and pans that needed cleaning. My mother and Boris came into the kitchen to help and stationed themselves at the sink; she on dish duty, he on drying duty. What seemed like only moments later, while I was putting the leftover food into containers, I noticed Boris drying off one of the pots. What caught my eye about a particular pot that usually had brown and black soot on the bottom was that it was so shiny and clean. Years’ worth of food and cooking buildup was gone! I asked my mother how she did that and so fast… she only smiled with a glint in her eye and said “Boris showed me how”. She never told me with words, but with her eyes she told me to slow down and go easy. The next time I had to clean a pot, and ever since, I’ve taken my time, used far less pressure than I ever would have, and they have always come clean. Working in a rush and with too much pressure used more time and never yielded the same results. I never understood how; it’s just the way it works. I learned this 17 years ago, but I still don’t always remember or practice this principle. Two years ago I slowed down immensely, truly savoring the small, day-to-day moments, and oddly enough I found myself to be happier, more at peace, and with more time than I ever had. It’s not only time, but also about “less”. Doing less, trying less, having less… all equal less stress and more joy. Last week I had the luxury of traveling with my husband and a group of amazing individuals from my yoga studio to a jungle sanctuary in Costa Rica. Getting to this sanctuary required two commercial flights, a puddle jumper plane, a 45-minute car ride, and then a 20-minute hike crossing a river four times. It was hot and humid; the type of humidity where you never dry off, even after a shower. The only way on and off the sanctuary is a 20-minute-plus hike. On the last full day of the trip, my husband Daren and I ventured off the property to the sanctuary’s closest neighbor, Nena, in pursuit of pure organic extra virgin coconut oil. It was a short walk over a bridge that overlooks the ocean to Nena’s house. For the previous two days, Daren & I opted to take some excursions off the property with our group. Both days were a little hectic and obscenely hot at times. I felt ambivalent all morning about whether or not we should take the walk down the hill to get this coconut oil, mainly because it was hot. For some reason I said I’d like to go, but I wanted to walk slowly. So off we went to Nena’s house for coconut oil.
Daren and I really took our time. We stopped and looked at monkeys. We watched little birds. We passed our friend, the white cow. When we left the property and crossed the street, we stopped on the bridge. Actually, Daren stopped on the bridge and called out to me, “Babe, look at this view!”. Slightly annoyed, I stopped to look. I was initially feeling rushed, looked at my watch, and started calculating how much time it would take to get to Nena’s, buy this coconut oil, trek back, “relax” at the pool, and then dash off to the next yoga class. However, when I turned my head to the left and saw the scene, my heart rate actually slowed down a bit. I couldn’t believe I was about to just walk by and miss this scene! I took it in. While standing there, I couldn’t help but notice this insane, harried American thought pattern, and I pushed it completely away. When I stopped and didn’t worry about the time, I was able to remember that I was here in this beautiful place, at this beautiful moment, with my beautiful husband and a group of beautiful, well-lit individuals. I stopped my physical, then mental body from the rush of insanity and fleeting thoughts to appreciate the view and the view of my husband appreciating the view.
We stood there a while in silence. I took a few pictures and resisted the urge to snap more. More is not better. More pictures, more talk, more activity… more, more, more… No, no, no… I know this, but I live in a world that tells me the opposite, so it’s easy to forget.
It was I who broke the silence after a long while. I had the profound realization that because we walked slowly, we weren’t as hot as we were the rest of the trip. I intellectually knew that before we walked and even made that suggestion, but it was even more profound to experience that it worked. It dawned on me that every time I go anywhere where the weather is warm all the time, the locals move slowly. I heard other Americans and Canadians joking about how the natives live on “Costa Rican time”. I’ve heard the same joke in other places. All these Americans and Europeans thinking it’s so funny to crack jokes about how slow everyone moves, when really the joke is on us. What is wrong with us? We are the dummies sweating in the sun because we are rushing around like lunatics. It’s our culture that is uptight, wound up, and stressed. What are we in a rush to do anyway? At that moment on the bridge, I decided to put my watch in my pocket and let the day pass as it may. Strangely, there seemed to be just the right amount of time for everything once I stopped worrying at all about it.
Daren with our friend the pretty white cow who was often on the path onto and off the sanctuary.
The view I nearly just didn’t notice
When we move too quickly, we often miss things that are right in front of us. This applies to work, our lives with our families and friends, and even how we move toward our goals. It’s not just about what we need to see, but what actually enriches our daily experience.
In the midst of this jungle last week, we were surrounded by wildlife. It was beautiful, simple, exotic, intoxicating, and natural. This was a yoga group at a yogic sanctuary. Yogis might be more aware than most about the beauty of being conscious, but are no less human and subject to falling prey to being unconscious in a world that keeps dangling shiny temptations all around. One of my teachers deliberately did not go on one of the daily excursions on a day that every other single person in the group did. She said she did not want to feel rushed, and she sat watching monkeys for several hours that day instead. The message she took away is that the monkeys were there all along, providing the same level of awe and entertainment, but had one not taken the time to stop and observe, it would have been missed.
The evening we returned to Connecticut from Costa Rica, Daren and I found ourselves in line at a McDonald’s drive-through on the way home from the airport at 11:45 at night. By that point in the day, we had been up and en route home since 5:15am. We had only one real meal. We were tired, dirty, and stressed. Hurry up and wait. We almost missed a connecting flight because Passport Control was a hot mess when we got back into the U.S. We were waiting in a very long car line at 11:45pm for an absolutely nutritionally poor meal (well, Daren was waiting, I was looking forward to some soup at home). We were stressed. Daren was tapping at the wheel. I was mentally trying hard not to fall into the trap of ordering something greasy or feeling upset over the slow-moving line, all while trying to stay cheerful so my husband could stay positive too. In my mind, I was doing math again about the number of things I needed to do the next day to get ready for the week, wondering how I could fit them in. How much mail was there? Who is taking the dog to the vet Thursday? What should I pull out for dinner tomorrow? Should I go shopping? I needed to inventory the food situation at home first, right? With every thought, I felt my blood pressure rising. And every time I noticed my breath becoming rapid and shallow or my heart racing, I made the conscious decision to breathe deeply and live in the moment. That only lasts a few moments out here in the “real world” until the thoughts and heart start to race again. How could you explain this feeling to someone in the third world?
We may have been in the middle of the jungle, but the concrete jungle creates artificial stressors that make living life to the fullest nearly impossible. It’s impossible because living life to the fullest was taught to me as fitting in as much “fun”, work, and activity as possible. This means learning as much as you can, moving quickly, multitasking, making lots of money to do these amazing things (because they aren’t free), and providing these experiences to our children. Making money means more rushing and more stress. For most, it means long commutes and doing work you rarely feel connected to. Then rushing home to activities and often hurried, unhealthy meals—if you are lucky, with loved ones. Weekends are spent putting your living space back together, cleaning, doing laundry, shopping, shuffling people around, and squeezing in “quality” time. Somewhere in between, you are supposed to exercise, meditate, perform self-care, attend appointments, cook healthy meals, and sleep enough—just so you don’t get stressed or exhausted. You know… so you can be happy and experience life to the fullest. It sounds insane when you really look at it.
I’ve also noticed that when we take the time to do things more carefully instead of rushing through them, we tend to get better results and feel less stressed in the process.
Physics teaches us that time is relative. Slowing down seems to expand our experience of time. I can’t explain why; it just is. Another interesting paradox is that it allows us to appreciate more. Life becomes less expensive, less material, and far less stressful.
The overall message for me is that slowing down equals living life more fully. I keep forgetting, but the time between which I do is growing larger and larger. I hope that others who haven’t given it a whirl do. There’s nothing to lose but old, tired ideas of what it means to live our lives to the fullest.
Sunrise one morning from the Tower at the SanctuarySunset one evening on the beach of Santa Theresa Costa Rica
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