Yesterday I planned on writing a YogaMamaMe entry even though I really didn't have time for it.
As a result, I found myself with 10 minutes to go before yoga class began as I threw myself into the car and marveled yet again at how it always seems to be 5 minutes later by the car clock than I could swear it was a moment ago by the clock in the kitchen. Suddenly, I had just 5 short minutes to drive to the studio, perform a quick but respectable parallel park, throw my shoes into a cubby and my name onto the sign-in sheet, and set up my mat while pretending I was really calm and unhurried.
Already I was learning a lesson. I hate rushing. And yet I often am in a rush. Perhaps, I considered as I cruised past the Montessori School at a speed I hoped was appropriate both for the setting and my current predicament, I should resist stubbornly sticking to my plan to write a YogaMamaMe entry when I really don't have enough time. Perhaps instead of writing about surrendering, I should actually surrender to the fact that sometimes we just don't get to do what we had in mind. Or we insist that we do and we end up rushing around in a sweat, swearing like a sailor in a tsunami-sized storm when we accidentally hit the lock button on the car keys instead of the unlock button and are momentarily stymied in our attempts to take a panicked leap into the car while late for yoga class.
The only thing to do when you're late, by the way, is to accept that you're late and do your best not to be any later. This is easiest done when you are on your way to an astanga class that you know will begin with several minutes of sun salutes so you can unroll your mat and jump right in after class begins without too much stress.
Except when you open the door to a class fuller than you have ever seen it. So full, in fact, that there is no easy place to quietly unroll your mat and blend in with the sun salutes. So full that the teacher instructs you to place your mat in front of hers -- in the dead center of the room with all the other mats facing you from each side.
Hey, okay, I've taught enough yoga classes to be comfortable with being on stage. In fact, I took this awkward opportunity as a gift. Practicing where another student momentarily confused about which mat belongs to the teacher might look to you for an example of dwi pada sirsasana (look it up; it's scary) helps one maintain a certain amount of focus.
I quickly unrolled my mat where the teacher had indicated and joined the class in downward facing dog. It was as I jumped forward to the front of my mat that a wiggle of doubt made its way into my brain. I was face-to-face with the teacher, maybe a foot away. And as we swept up to standing I couldn't help cringing as our heads narrowly missed each other in their flight toward the ceiling.
Then we were sweeping back down, heads flying toward each other, and I began to wonder if maybe I should be facing the other way. I wouldn't be able to see the teacher, it was true, but I could probably muddle through anyhow. And, of course, I wouldn't have to swerve each time I feared a head-on collision.
Swish. Our heads greeted each other as we stood, and swish, they waved goodbye on their way down again. I was beginning to feel mightily distracted. I was pretty certain it was traditional to face the teacher's mat and equally pretty certain the teacher didn't mind. At least, she wasn't giving me any pointed looks suggesting I'd made some sort of horrible mistake.
I checked out my options during my next downward facing dog. No go. Inches beyond the back end of my mat was woman whose perpendicularly-facing mat was pulled way out so that it nearly intersected mine. If I were to turn around, I'd end up folding forward right around the vicinity of her ribcage, probably with spectacular results. Best to avoid collisions with the trained professional in front of me instead.
So once again I embraced the unexpected. This was not punishment for trying to do too much and running late, I am sure. It was merely an opportunity to practice, to let my choices be my choices and to enjoy what came of them. And, lucky me, to enjoy a great yoga class as well.
Sometimes the Reward for Facing Chaos with Calm Is . . . More Chaos
Think I got a big, fat reward for embracing this lesson?
I sure thought so, as I crept out of the yoga studio a few minutes early to make my noon therapy appointment. I noted that I would like to avoid future appointments that backed up to a sweaty class, since it was pretty uncomfortable heading out in drenched yoga pants and matted hair. But therapists are trained to ignore such unpleasantness and act as if someone like me immediately after a sweaty yoga class is not, in fact, distinctly off-putting.
I skipped stickily toward my car and then noticed a familiar blue stroller on the lawn of the church across the street. In fact, that guy sitting next to it looked an awful lot like my husband. And damned if the child asleep in the stroller wasn't my son.
"I had to pick him up from school," Mike said grimly as I approached. "I wanted you to at least get your yoga class in."
Seems nothing in particular was wrong with Jake, but the director of his school -- who pops in to his class once or twice a month to make the regular teachers edgy and nervous -- thought he seemed unhappy.
He wasn't playing with his friends, she told Mike. He suggested that 15-month-olds rarely do, being a little short of that stage of development.
He had mucous pouring out of every orifice, she continued. I haughtily informed Mike that I had brought his nasal spray to school for exactly this eventuality.
The workers, the director claimed, said he had been this bad all week and coughing forever. We should probably take him to a doctor. This, Mike allowed, was where he had lost his patience, as he doesn't much like being accused of neglecting his child.
Mike called Grandma as I drove him back to his car. I prayed that she could come watch Jake very soon, since a shower was becoming an increasingly urgent need.
Then my phone rang. "Hi," my therapist said expectantly.
I told her we were having a child care crisis. I told her I was just getting ready to call her. I told her I'd pay for the session. She didn't sound happy. But, hey, I was generously offering her her very own lesson in rolling with the unexpected punches of life.
Grandma went to lunch with my brother-in-law before coming to the house, so the sweat had a chance to dry on me in white, salty patches. But Jake did consent to play with her while I showered and didn't start howling for me until I was toweling off, so we avoided the embarrassment that results from your mother-in-law almost seeing you naked. Most importantly, he didn't seem particularly sick or miserable to me. And the three of us had a lovely afternoon together.
In case you were worried, I did smooth things over with the daycare people. They are, after all, trying to take care of all the children, even if they get a little bit hysterical about a cough inspired by post-nasal drip. And, although they aren't aware of it, they are providing me valuable lessons in surrendering to life and motherhood.
Be Bamboo -- Vrksasana (Tree Pose)
In Chinese medicine, my acupuncturist informs me, the wood element is fundamentally important. If it is strong, we too become strong, yet flexible, able to bend to the events around us without breaking.
It made more sense when he explained that the wood of the wood element is bamboo. Much easier to see bamboo as flexible than, say, a redwood tree.
It also makes sense when you practice vrksasana, tree pose. Like a tree, you must be willing to sway in this pose, to bend without crashing to the ground. Practicing vrksasana, it seems, should strengthen the wood element. And, depending on the variation, it offers a lovely opportunity to open your heart to whatever the Universe brings. Which means not only can you survive unexpected changes, not only can you actively surrender to them, but you eventually welcome them and trust that something beautiful is coming your way.
Vrksasana Instructions
1) Stand in tadasana (mountain pose). Take a few moments to feel deeply rooted in the earth. Lift and spread your toes and feel them settle back down. Let your inner thighs release toward the back of the room so your tailbone has space to tuck, causing your navel to draw in toward your spine and up toward your heart. Let this core strength travel back down your legs into the earth.
2) If you are still new to balance, place your hands on your hips. (Otherwise, you may place them in front of your heart in angeli mudra, prayer position.) Check in to see that you are still engaging your core by tucking your tailbone and drawing your navel in and up.
3) Actively draw energy from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head. Feel how the energy fills the space between your vertebrae. Let the energy surge into your heart so your sternum lifts and your shoulder blades slide down your back.
4) Find a point on the floor several feet in front of you to gaze at. With your eyes thus occupied it will be easier to quiet your mind.
5) As you are ready, with either an inhale or an exhale -- whichever works best for your energy -- lift your right foot off the floor, bending the knee. Do it slowly, so you don't introduce energy that might knock you off balance. Instead, try to tap into the energy around you, becoming a tree, or a bamboo reed.
6) Turn your knee out to the right side as you lift your leg and place the sole of your right foot on the inside of your left leg. It may rest anywhere that is comfortable except on your left knee, as this will create too much stress on the knee joint. If you feel steady, you may reach your hands for your right leg to help draw it further up along the inside of your left leg.
7) Try to find the balance between pressing the sole of your right foot into the inside of your left leg and pressing the sole of your left foot into the floor. Press too hard and you start stirring up your own energy without regard to the energy around you. (Just like making your own plans for life without accounting for the fact that other forces are at work.) Maintain your gaze on the floor to stay calm and let your heart lift you.
8) If your hands are not already in angeli mudra (prayer position), place them in front of your heart. Remember, this is your center, both physically and energetically. Let your heart sing with trust as you let your right knee continue to open to the wall behind you.
9) Be the flexible tree as you open your heart, open your right hip (the site of emotional energy), and experience the subtle energy around you. Welcome it, work with it, and honor it.
And, remember, the key to balance isn't maintaining the balance. It's maintaining your sense of calm when you fall. Think of that when something more important than a yoga pose makes you lose your equilibrium.
Vrksasana Variations
If you feel steady in the pose and would like to hold it for a longer time, you can work on these variations. Each one opens your heart even more strongly as it challenges your balance.
1) From full vrksasana, above, press your palms together (not too strongly, as this will create too much energy and knock you off balance) and draw them overhead.
2) Gently let your arms separate so you are holding them in a V, welcoming energy, letting it funnel into your heart. Don't let your shoulder blades creep up with your hands; keep them strongly down your back for balance and heart opening.
3) If you feel steady, you may let your gaze travel up in the direction of your hands. Welcome all life has to give and trust that it will not knock you down.
4) When you are ready, you may bring your palms back together and draw them down to your heart.
Or you may continue with the following variation.
1) From the pose above with your hands raised and your arms in a V, carefully draw your arms in a big circle behind you. Hold onto your elbows with your hands or, if you are able, press your palms together behind your back in reverse namaste, or a prayer position. Your pinky fingers will rest against your spine and all your fingers will point toward the top of your head while your shoulders must open strongly. If your palms do not come together, I do not recommend reverse namaste, as it will place too much stress on your wrists.
2) Remain here with your gaze at a point on the floor. Or let your heart lift, drawing you into a backbend. Your eyes may travel upwards with your heart as well.
3) Enjoy the unique sensation of grounding and opening simultaneously and marvel at all the different ways your body can bend simultaneously. Supple as bamboo indeed.
For The Balance-Challenged (both on and off your yoga mat)
I feel like I ought to add one note here as a balance-challenged person. It took a lot of practice for me to get the balance thing.
For a while I blamed my feet (high arches), my eyes (too nearsighted to focus), and the other students (all their falling near me sent me toppling right over). But honestly, I think I was trying too hard. I'd press too strongly into the earth and bring all my energy down, and me with it. I'd lift my heart too strongly and lose my roots. And, of course, the more frustrated I got, the more I fell.
It's sounding like life all over again, isn't it? Push too hard for what you think your goal is and you are going to be knocked off balance. Maintain your calm when you do fall, work more gently to find your pose again, and you are more likely to find your way back. Work with the larger-than-us energy that throws things your way, and you will find your balance, your trust, the beauty of an open heart.
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