Being Open to Change

I was stuck in the back of yoga class again yesterday.

This is not my favorite spot, for no particular reason, other than habit. I like being in the front, in my own world, diving into empty space instead of someone else's mat. No doubt books (or at least lengthy articles) could be written about one's preferred spot in yoga class. ("Melissa likes to be out in front of the crowd. She has ego-istic tendencies, preferring to be watched by others.")

The thing is, I know that a change of perspective is good for you. Many of us do, but few of us change perspective on our own. Too much going on, too important to have some sense of what needs to get done or none of it will, too hard to figure out any perspective different from the one we already have. So we wait to have change thrust upon us. Or to have a particularly annoying co-worker insist on it.

In the case of the yoga class, rather than try to elbow my way into a spot in the front row or pout about being stuck in the middle, I opened myself up to the change. And I learned some lovely things.

For one thing, I learned that there are genuinely nice people in the class. When first I began attending, I was saddened and a little bit frightened by the lack of warmth I felt, how people looked the other way rather than smile back at me. I wished for the electric energy of a shared practice and settled for my own. I felt like an outsider squeezing my way past the conversations taking place in the anteroom at the end of class. I lost any hope of finding my Asheville community at yoga.

But yesterday, as I stood on the side hopefully scanning the rows for an empty space that could accommodate my mat (and mostly waiting for the teacher to come make space for me in the front row) a woman near me beckoned. She and her friend pulled their mats over to make space for me -- unbidden.

Such a small gesture, yet so remarkable in a world where people rarely take the time to do even small things for a stranger. (How many people might have seen Jake's shoe and socks fall out of the stroller in Charleston without bringing it to our attention? Too embarrassed to yell, too certain someone else would do it? And how many times have I pushed aside a generous gesture with similar rationalizations?)

Of course, I said, "Thank you so much" with a big smile, and I got a smile back. We even smiled again a few minutes later when the teacher decided to make the women move their mats again to accommodate yet another latecomer. "That's what you get for being nice," I grinned, and we had a little bit of bonding.

It's lovely, I recalled, to practice yoga next to someone you like. It's lovely to be able to smile during a practice and not be the only one. It's lovely to imagine that people around you are happy.


Being Open to Change

After class, I spent some time thinking back to other small moments when I was introduced to an unwelcome change of perspective, something that jarred my sense of how my day was supposed to progress. I wanted to remind myself that being open to change as I was in yoga class would bring something good into my life.

Like last week when Jake had to stay home from school -- again -- because he had an inoculation-induced fever and wasn't allowed back for 24 hours. ("I don't think it counts if it was from his shots," his girlfriend's doctor-mother said when we were back in school. "I know," I agreed. "Unfortunately, he got the fever at school." At least I know next time I lie about him being fever-free, I will have a doctor's approval.)

There was a time when Jake staying home unexpectedly could throw me into a depression.

The problem is not -- as I hope is obvious by now -- that I don't enjoy spending time with him. It's that I enjoy doing things like, oh, making the money that helps feed him. It gets tiring being the one with the flexible schedule. Off Mike goes to put out another daily newspaper that will be forgotten when the next one comes out. Here I sit, planning out how I will spend the weekend writing about breaches of contract while Mike and Jake play in the park. It's enough to make anyone a little bit cranky.

But instead of feeding my crankiness, I took Jake to Health Adventure and then we had coffee downtown with Daddy. I didn't dwell on the fact that I had (have) a huge legal project to do or that a friend was coming for the weekend, further cutting into my work time. I just embraced the fact that the Universe doesn't care if it's Tuesday or Sunday or your friend is coming to visit, and It certainly doesn't care when the arbitration closing brief is due, and sometimes I have to stop caring as well.

You have a child, you get surprised. A lot. It's the way kids work. They remind us that our illusions that we can plan our lives are nothing more than illusions.

Yes, you need a plan to make it through the day with kids, but a plan only gets you so far. You are going to get that call from school or that sudden aversion to refried beans or that new refusal to sit in the stroller. And you can either fall apart because of it or embrace a new direction.

Without Jake to thrust a new perspective on me every so often, what will remind me that it really has no bearing on this world whether I make every deadline I set for myself? How will I find the wisdom to recognize that small, still moments carry more beauty than big, planned ones? Who will show me the endless joy of a big baby smile that stops all the piddling details of life in their tracks and lets me live for one unbounded true moment?

I've never doubted that Jake is a gift. But what a gift he is.


Perspective with Training Wheels: Marichyasana

Like any beautiful child, any yoga practice offers us the chance to work on changing perspectives, whether it's something as simple as moving our mat to an unfamiliar part of the studio or finding a new way to approach an asana. Even in the most focused asana practice, our mind grabs at the familiar, focusing on a particular part of the body or one way of breathing.

It's impossible to observe everything that's happening in our bodies at one moment -- that's one of yoga's many beauties. Years into my practice, I thrill to discover new parts of my body with which I hadn't been familiar before.

Still, our minds figure if there's too much to take in, they'll just keep to the small piece that's easy and familiar. And, gee, doesn't it seem they do that in the rest of our lives as well?

So take some time -- on your mat or off -- to try looking at things in a new way. For example, spring offers all sort of possibilities for noticing your street in a way you hadn't before -- the way the white blossoms on the cherry tree next door float into our yard; the bright spots of the little purple flowers growing in front of our house; the way the sun hits the yellow house across the street and throws a little sunshine back into my office.

And to help introduce your mind to the process of changing perspective, try the following two versions of marichyasana.

Marichyasana A & C

1) To warm up, do janu sirsasana (head to knee pose): Sit on the floor with your left leg straight out in front of you and your right knee bent. Let your right knee open out and rest on the floor with the sole of your right foot resting on the inner thigh of your left leg. If your right knee is far from the floor, try moving your right foot further down your left leg, toward the foot. (Do not rest it on your left knee -- that's too much pressure). Or place blankets or pillows under your right knee to support it. Fold forward over your left leg and let your left hamstring open.

2) In janu sirsasana, let your mind focus on your hamstring. With each inhale, find a tight spot in your hamstring, and with each exhale let it release a bit. Hold this pose until you feel an opening.

3) Move to marichyasana A. Keeping your left leg straight out in front of you, place the sole of your right foot on the floor next to your left leg (you should have just enough space between your foot & your leg to place your hand on the ground). Draw your right heel as close to your buttocks as is comfortable without slouching in your lower back. Take a moment to bring your mind back to those left hamstrings. Notice if this makes you feel more relaxed -- if the familiar is safer for your mind.

4) Hold onto your right shin and draw your torso long by imagining your head stretching toward the ceiling. Place your left hand on the floor next to you for balance and reach your right arm in front of you, keeping it to the inside of your bent right leg. Reach your right arm around the front of your right shin and back around the outside of your leg. This motion requires you to rotate your right arm so your right palm is facing behind you.

5) Reach your left arm forward and circle it in the same way (palm facing back) to the left side of your body and around your back.

6) See if your fingers reach each other. If they do, grab fingers so you are bound. If they don't, either grab onto your shirt as an anchor or use a strap -- hold onto the strap with both hands as close together as you can comfortably place them.

7) Think about your left hamstring. Hmm. Nice to forget about your awkwardly placed upper body. Now see if you can shift your thinking. Start with your heart -- always a good place to draw your mind. Think of letting your heart sing and see if that melts your shoulders down your back. This motion will both relax you and make your arms seem longer so you can change the grip on the strap or perhaps touch fingers.

8) Bow forward keeping your mind on your heart. You don't have to think about your hamstrings (or your work or the grocery list) because they will tell you when they need you to stop. Instead, follow your heart and see where it takes you in this pose. Rest in that place and breathe until you feel relaxed and comfortable with the pose.

9) When your heart is ready, gently release your arms and sit up straight to prepare for marichyasana C.

10) Keeping your legs in the same position (left leg straight in front, right leg bent with the foot on the floor), hold onto your right shin to help you sit up straight again. Notice how your shoulders feel and the lightness of your heart.

11) When you are ready, twist your torso to the right. Reach your right arm behind you and rest your right hand on the floor. Reach your left arm around your bent right leg, hugging your heart toward it. See where your mind has gone -- toward the familiar? The uncomfortable? Plans for dinner tonight?

12) Bring your mind to your heart and let it lift. Look over your right shoulder and enjoy the pose. If you feel open, you can bend your left elbow and bring it to the outside of your right knee. If you do so, notice what it does to your pose. Does your heart still have room to sing?

13) Now challenge your mind to change perspective. Focus on your spine, starting at the base and slowly working your way up. With each inhale, let your heart sing and the crown of your head reach toward the ceiling. With each exhale, let the part of the spine you are focused on twist a little bit more deeply.

14) When you are done following your spine (which, incidentally, includes your neck as well), notice what you are looking at and see what that does to your pose. Close your eyes and see if that changes things. Finally, let your mind go back to your hamstrings and experience the full range of perspectives these different pose variations have brought you.

When you are ready, release the pose and do the sequence on the other side (right leg straight, left knee bent). It's a lot for both mind and body, but I'll bet you see the world in a new way when you're done.