I had one of those moments yesterday, the kind where suddenly everything feels completely wrong.
It begins with a weird sense of displacement -- in my case, sitting on the floor of my yoga room/office in the middle of my asana practice. "What am I doing here?" or something like it started the internal conversation. "Who made me a mother who doesn't have time for real friends? How did I end up on a quiet street full of kids in Asheville? Since when did I look at buying groceries as a social event?"
In the space of a breath, I have convinced myself that sometime during my life in -- I don't know, maybe Washington, D.C., someplace where I was single and young and knew how to drink a martini -- sometime in the midst of this young, hip, I-can-do-anything life I fell asleep and woke up . . . here.
That's when the moment hit. "Have I really been following my heart?" I started asking myself. "Or have I abandoned it for what everyone's supposed to want -- a loving partner and a kid and a house with a deck in the backyard?"
I'm not sure, I sniffed, tears coming to my eyes, that I'm where I'm supposed to be.
Funny, Where Your Heart Can Lead You
After a few minutes in child's pose, taking deep, calming breaths, I asked myself what had me so frightened.
Part of it was the fact that I am not only a mother, but I write about it. It's become my thing.
Five years ago, before I met Mike, I was pretty comfortable with the notion of mothering nothing more genetically connected to me than my basset hound Roxanne. I had spent some time in my early thirties planning how I would have a baby if I didn't manage to get married by thirty-five. (So very scary now how young that sounds.) The lawyer in me headed straight for an anonymous donor; the law professor at a Jesuit university timed it for after I got tenure and could flaunt my shame; the business person in me -- well, there isn't a hint of business sense in me so I didn't really spend much time figuring out how I was going to afford artificial insemination with a health plan handed down indirectly from the Pope.
Eventually, though, I let go of the idea that I had to have a child. I realized I was completely complete without one. I relished my single life. I dedicated myself more and more deeply to yoga. And then I met Mike and my heart led me in the direction we expect our hearts to lead us. It's almost embarrassing, finding myself one of those women I used to find sort of uninteresting. And now I write about those formerly uninteresting I'm-a-mom things.
But fretting about the stranger writing YogaMamaMe is something I do all the time, and it doesn't make me want to throw up like I did yesterday.
What was making me feel so Sliding Doors, I think, was the feeling that my life doesn't move any longer. I have no time, and little motivation, to break the comfortable pattern that allows me a decent amount of sleep and me-time when I live with a toddler. So much easier to hang out with my best friend, who also happens to be Jake's father, going to the Ramp Celebration in Waynesville (turns out it was Sunday instead of Saturday, so we never got to eat any ramps) or just playing on that deck while he mows the lawn. Go out? See a movie, go on a date, drink too much? That takes planning, and by the time the sitter is here I'm kind of tempted to kick off my heels and join her in front of the t.v.
My fear, then, seemed to stem from this perception that I've hit a dead end. I'm a rat in an evil scientist's maze. I was making my way through it just fine and then they threw this gorgeous baby in and I scrambled toward him, whiskers twitching, trapping myself in a cramped little cubby where there seems no choice but to curl up and sleep out the rest of the experiment. No rat treats for me.
I reminded myself that I live in a mighty beautiful rat maze -- a lovely craftsman on a street full of friendly neighbors, shared with a loving husband and an amazing, blue-eyed little boy just starting to show off his snippet of Irish heritage with the reddish cast his hair has lately acquired.
Yes, I whined. That's what makes me feel so TRAPPED. It's Jake's turn to change and grow, and I have to sit here and watch.
Following Means Following
Everywhere, it seems, we are pelted with images of parents suggesting that once you have a kid you cede the life changes to him. We are quintessentially at the sidelines of our kids' soccer games. You can catch us in the audience at the school play, providing transportation to music lessons and softball practice, sitting next to our child as he does his homework at the kitchen table. Our careers are no longer fulfilling, or if they are, we become bad, distracted parents. Our drive to succeed in business is now solely about filling that 529 account so we can send our little geniuses to college.
No wonder as Jake becomes more independent I become more certain I'm being left behind.
But the fault with my thinking yesterday was the notion that my heart has led me here as a final destination. As if it has hitched a ride with the child I love so much and is ditching me so it can carry on with him. When, after all, Jake has his own heart and is already starting to find his own path (which, at the moment, very much involves balls).
Sometimes life slows down. Sometimes an asana practice slows down too. It's a chance to take advantage of all the heat and energy we've generated. In asana practice that means stretching warmed muscles. In life maybe it means pouring all the goodness we've created into a beautiful start for our children.
But, in asana practice, after we've stretched for a while, we are ready to move into the intensity of back bends or a long inversion -- which require a different type of strength from the standing poses that began the practice, a deep opening and strength that come only after we have moved and stretched. So, too, in life we will move from the opening and stretching our new children offer us to deeper challenges that require us to move in new ways.
Jake is a mere sixteen months old. Seems like he's been around a whole lot longer, but sixteen months . . . less than half my time in college; less time than I managed to stick it out at the law firm; less time, even, than my prepubescent infatuation with Shaun Cassidy lasted. Jake will get older, he will spend less and less time with me, and I will find the strength to start moving again.
Not that I'm not moving now. I'm about to launch a website, for goodness sakes. Okay, so it's about being a mother, but it's about following my heart as well. And I sure don't think it ends here.
Setu Bandha Sarvangasana (Bridge Pose) to Urdvha Danurasana (Upward Facing Bow) -- You Wanna Move in a New Way?
Too often, when I'm in an intense backbend, I forget all about moving. Our instinct, when we're working so hard, is to see if we can stay in the pose until the teacher releases us. Which is not a bad thing because, next time you do it, you may notice that it's really, really hard to stay perfectly still.
The key to backbends, in my book, is to constantly lengthen your spine. It's not the sort of movement we're used to -- swinging our legs back and forth to walk, waving our arms around when we want attention, crouching down a million times a day to pick up a twenty-five pound toddler. Lengthening your spine is far more subtle. It's about exploration, going inside and finding more space and more ways to create it. When you're doing that while holding a pose that requires more than a little bit of strength, you realize just how far you've come in your practice. Most of us start yoga with pretty tight backs, and they open so beautifully.
Focusing on lengthening your spine in a back bend seems to me the loveliest way to appreciate the slowing of our lives when our children are young. It seems like we're not moving -- because we're not out at bars talking to not very interesting people made moderately more interesting by dint of the alcohol we're consuming. In fact, we are finding more intense, subtle, advanced ways of moving, ways made possible because our children have made us slow down and stretch in ways we didn't think possible.
And add this thought -- as you lengthen your spine you're also opening your heart. Just to remind you that it is still there for you to follow.
Setu Bandha Sarvangasana (Bridge Pose) Instructions
1) Lie on your mat with your knees bent and your feet on the floor. Reach down to see if you can brush your heels with your fingertips. This is the correct distance between your butt and your heels; if you don't have the flexibility to bring your heels this close, just bring them as close to your butt as you can without straining.
2) Let your arms fall to the floor by your sides and turn them palm up. Feel your shoulder blades move together. Consciously bring them closer together as if they are supporting your heart.
3) Make sure the back of your head is pressing to the floor but not your neck. If you have neck issues, you may place a small rolled up towel under your neck to ensure that it maintains its curve. Your nose should point straight at the ceiling.
4) Turn your hands palms down close to your hips, and on an inhale draw your navel in toward your spine and up toward your heart.
5) As you exhale, let your hips float off the floor as high as you can let them go. Use your palms pressing into the floor to help lift your hips. Make sure your nose is still pointing at the ceiling to protect your neck.
6) Take a moment to think of lengthening your spine, almost as if you are growing a tail. Let your inner thighs roll inward (without collapsing your legs together). Stay here if your back feels tight. Continue to breathe and lengthen.
7) The back bend is behind your heart (in your thoracic spine) NOT in your lower back (along the lumbar spine). Try to draw your lower back straight out toward your knees while using your shoulder blades to open your upper back, behind your heart.
8) If it is okay with your back to go on, draw your hands together under your back and interlace your fingers. Draw your palms toward each other and draw your hands toward your heels, bringing your shoulder blades with them. Feel your heart open.
9) Once again check in with your neck; it should remain lifted off the floor if your nose is pointed at the ceiling. Press your heels strongly into the floor and go inside, looking for ways to lengthen your spine, feeling your heart opening. Don't forget to breathe as deeply as this back bend allows you.
10) When you have fully explored the pose and found how dynamic it really is, gently release your hands and lower yourself slowly, starting at your shoulders and releasing one vertebrae at a time to the floor.
Rest here and feel how energized you are, even when you are completely still. If your back feels tight and you would like to release it, draw your knees in toward your chest and give yourself a hug. Roll to the side and push yourself up to come off the floor.
Urdhva Danurasana (Upward Facing Bow) Instructions
Attempt this deep back bend only if you are an experienced practitioner of asanas. Like any pose that requires this much strength, I recommend you try it for the first time under the direction of a yoga instructor.
1) Follow steps 1-4 above. (Do not place a towel under your neck, as you will be lifting your head off the floor.)
2) On an exhale, place your palms by your ears. Your elbows will be pointing toward the ceiling; your fingers will point toward your shoulders.
3) Take a moment here to draw your elbows toward each other. The biggest problem I have seen when people are unable to lift into urdhva danurasana is allowing their elbows to splay out to the sides. Drawing them in creates strength in the back by strongly bringing the shoulder blades together and engaging the muscles along the upper back.
4) Bearing in your mind's eye the correct opening of the back -- behind the heart in the thoracic region, not in the lumbar spine, start letting your heart lift you off the floor as you press strongly into your hands and feet until your head lifts.
5) I recommend pausing with your head on the floor to readjust your hands as necessary so your shoulder blades can draw together. Once again lift by allowing your heart to rise as you press into the space between your first finger and thumb. Don't forget to press equally into all four corners of your feet as well.
6) Straighten your arms as far as you can. If you can not straighten them, your shoulders are still a bit tight for this pose. In this case, tuck your chin toward your chest and lower yourself gently to the floor, doing bridge pose for a while instead.
7) With your arms straight, make sure your neck is long by looking away from your body (not toward your feet). Press into your big toes, let your thighs rotate toward each other, and start lengthening your spine. As it lengthens, notice your heart lifting and the pose requiring less pure muscle. Don't forget to breathe.
8) When you are done exploring, tuck your chin toward your chest as best you can and bend your elbows to gently lower to the back (not top) of your head and your upper back. Then lower your spine slowly, one vertebrae at a time.
Enjoy resting on the floor. Feel how much energy moves through you, even though you are still. Notice how open your heart is to what may come. If your back feels tight, you may hug your knees into toward your chest to release it. Be sure to roll to the side and push yourself up to come off the floor.
And use a bit of that open heart to give yourself a little love.
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