Duty

The last blog entry I wrote never got published. I wrote about being very, very tired. It was kind of whiny, maybe, and by the time I made it into the studio to upload it, while still tired, I didn’t feel much like whining to the world about it. Now, readers, you'll be happy to know, I have internet, so I'll just post. No thinking or second guessing. You'll read every last whine.

I’m tired because things are going well. The studio is packed, which is great. I’ve also been teaching a lot. I took on three regular classes and lately I've been subbing at least one class everyday. There was the extra administrative work associated with the Groupon promotion. I really couldn’t take a day off. Sometimes it was fun, but sometimes, I just didn’t want to do it. At times while teaching, I felt like a machine, saying the same things over and over. It almost began to feel rote. I also said the same things over and over to our new Groupon customers. "Bring your Groupon. Mat rental is $1. See you in class!" My communications became a series of cut-and-paste operations. I was over-worked.

I taught Saturday morning, but then took the rest of the day and Sunday totally off. I didn’t go in at all. I hung out with friends who were in town from Texas. I went out dancing. I went sailing all around the Bay. It was great.

Of course, some balls got dropped. I didn’t go in to do a reception shift for a teacher who needs the help. I didn’t return phone calls or emails.

Monday came around, as it always does, and I had an emergency sub request from a teacher during the exact time I had another obligation, unrelated to the studio, that I needed to show up for. I sent out an email requesting a sub, but there was no one available.

It was a tough decision. What do I show up for?

I started reading the Bhagavad Gita. It’s the story of Arjuna, who was to fight a righteous war against his cousins. He is clearly in the right, and Krishna is his charioteer, guiding him through the war.

The translation that I am reading makes clear the metaphor that the war is the battle between good and evil, Krishna is our inner-consciousness, or Atman. He is our teacher.

Before the battle, Arjuna goes to the front lines to see who he is fighting. Among those on the other side are his teachers, cousins, friends and grandparents. He loses heart. He doesn't feel he can fight these people; they are his family. He rationalizes leaving the battles, surrendering before it begins, and Krishna tells him he need not grieve because Self is eternal. Dying is like changing clothes: we shed an old, worn out body for a new one. The Self does not die. So kill away, Arjuna!

Basically, what it boils down to is that Arjuna has to fight the war because it is his God-given Duty. While Arjuna is whining, Krishna says: “Yield not to weakness. It does not suit you. Shake off this petty faint heartedness. Stand up, Scorcher of foes, wake up!”

God, how often have I wanted to tell that to other people?

Arjuna replies later, “I am weighted down with weak mindedness; I am confused and cannot understand my duty. I beg of you to say for sure what is right for me to do. I am your disciple. Please teach me, for I have taken refuge in you.”

Later in the Gita, Krishna talks about doing one’s own duty and not anyone else’s. To paraphrase, it is better to do your duty poorly than someone else’s perfectly. All of this has to do with karma and escaping the wheel of death and rebirth, but we'll save that for some other time. 

Ultimately, the decision I made was to cancel the class and keep my other commitment, mostly because it was my commitment to keep. My duty to the studio was to try to find a sub for the class, which I did. My duty is not to drop everything and cover someone else's class. It's taken me a long time to realize that.

Nothing is worse for business, in my opinion, that not having a class when we say we're having class, but as Krishna would say, “Seeing the same in pleasure and pain, gain and loss, victory and defeat, in battle-just for the sake of the battle-then you will be sinless.”

That’s the path of Karma Yoga. It doesn’t matter whether what I do is good for business or bad for business. Am I doing the right thing, am I doing what I am called to do? Krishna is consciousness. Am I seeking the guidance of “Krishna,” or am I seeking the guidance of other, sensory things, like pleasure and success?

Eventually, at the last minute, someone came through to cover for me, and I was able to teach the yoga class. As I write this though, I wish that I hadn’t even asked. I wish I had just shown up for what I was supposed to show up for and let everything fall out as it will, and that's how I'll do it from now on. I’m not killing my grandfather here. The worst that can happen is a few people don’t get their yoga class.

I like the Bhagavad Gita. I like the story of the war between good and evil. I like the emphasis on showing up for life and pushing through fear and doubt and doing it solely for the sake of doing it, not for the rewards of victory or to avoid the discomforts of loss. It’s about being engrossed in life, and constantly asking to be guided to do the right thing.

So I’m going to try to show up. For all things, not just the yoga studio. That is the hard part, because for the last 18 months, my life's primary purpose has been to get the studio going and successful. I've been very outcome-motivated, which actually may have been appropriate and necessary for the beginning of the business. But that's not all there is. Showing up for myself and getting rest and time off is part of what I’m supposed to be doing. Sometimes time off feels like not showing up. Occassionally it is, but more often for me, it's a much needed break that leaves me with the energy to keep showing up later.

Arjuna was able to ask Krishna point blank for guidance. We sort of have to ask and then wait and reflect and hope that we're doing the right thing. There is also the promise in yoga of acting decisively because our vision is clear. We know what's right. It's obvious. I'm not there yet, but I think I'm getting better.

In the meantime, I am sure enjoying my internet right here at my easy chair, and the fact that I will publish this right now. Even if it sucks.

I heart yoga part 2

Blog, oh blog, I have missed you. I've had that writer's block that I get when I'm content. I write best about drama and pain, so when there's none of that, I just eat dinner and go to bed. But I'm back, content and writing anyway.

I was reading the current issue of Yoga Journal today,  and so much of what I read smacked of self-satisfaction and the joy of being right. Here’s how my diet is so great. Here’s how I’m a giving, self-sacrificing karma yogi. Here’s how I meditate everyday and practice asana and gratitude and how I’m so, so happy. It’s not that fucking easy, y’all. Yoga is for real. I do not go into this holy and self-sacrificing and altruistic. If I do something that makes you happy, I don't mind, but believe me, it wasn't my first intention. I want to be happy and me first.

And I am happy. The studio is packed. I feel like I’m being of service in a real way. I often make decisions I’m content with and that lead to positive results. I planted a flower garden. I had a friend come visit me from far away, and it was just me she came to visit. I didn’t have to show her the Golden Gate Bridge or any museums and take her to Napa. She was happy just to sit in my tiny living room and eat tofu and couscous cooked in my very own kitchen with week old cauliflower.

How blessed I am.

I’ve been meaning to write for awhile about a second way that Desikachar defines yoga. He writes: “yoga is to attain what was previously unattainable…. In fact, every change is yoga.”

Wow. Really? It’s easy to notice this in our asana practice. I can do poses now that I thought I would probably never get. My body has changed profoundly. I used to daydream about owning a business and being self employed and that seemed totally unattainable. I thought I had to be rich first, and I didn’t know how I would do it. But it came.  I didn’t get rich first. I just pieced it together because I wanted it very, very badly, and it seemed like the time was right.

On a deeper level, I’m happy and content and satisfied way more often than not. There was a time when unhappy was a way of life.  I knew excitement, and I knew high and drunk, but I didn’t know how to be at ease. I was suicidal, crazy angry, victimized, and eaten up by fear most of the time. I still have my moments, as you all hear about here, but it’s just not like that anymore. The stretches of being okay get longer and the phases of freaking out become shorter. They are moments, not states of being. 

In yoga, I learned to be uncomfortable and still at the same time. I started to pay attention off the mat. I began to notice what wasn’t working. I was drawn to things that seemed likely to work better. Self-employment. Less stuff. Simpler life. Noticing people. And then slowly, slowly, the non-functional stuff has been dropping away. It didn’t happen on my timeline, and it wasn’t about effort or struggle or setting rules for myself. It was about showing up, day after day, doing the best I could, and letting it all take shape.  Some days were (and still can be) pretty shitty, but I’ve come a long way. Contentment was unattainable for me. Seriously. It’s not anymore. What happened in between is called yoga.

Have I become the annoyingly self-satisfied yoga writer? Never to worry. I wrote this last night and already today, irritating things are popping into my consciousness that I'm sure will provide some material for edgier entries. More to come...

muddy water

The studio got busy. Really busy and very suddenly. We ran the Groupon, 653 of them were sold, and all the sudden people are calling and spending money and buying yoga mats and attending class. It’s great. It’s what I’ve wanted and worked hard for since I opened the place. Even without the Groupon, we had begun making sales goals more days than not, and it looks like Square One is here to stay. I’ve sort of known that for while, but now there’s no question. The thoughts of getting a job that used to float around in the back of my head are gone. I have a job. I have health insurance and working hours and people who rely on me. I just need to start paying taxes.

So why am I not elated?

I have to admit that there is some residue in my emotional body from spending two weeks sure I was dying. That’s a little bit of an exaggeration. Two weeks that I spent full of intense fear and grief and bewilderment. There were those moments in those two weeks that I’ve written about here, when I was very, very centered in the present moment. In many ways, I felt more alive then than I ever have, even though a lot of it was really hard.

So now it’s over. I’ve been thrown back into my life and all its busy-ness and activity, but there is a part of me that is very, very tired. I don’t think it’s life as usual, but I haven’t had a moment to think about what has changed. Am I stopping to smell the flowers? Am I spending more time with loved ones? Am I returning the important calls and letting the ones that can wait wait? Have I stopped texting and driving? No, no, no, and no.

But there is a shift. I don’t want to open another studio. Not right now. I thought that’s what I would do this summer, but it doesn’t sound at all appealing. It’s so much work. I want to take a vacation. I would like to take a whole week. What would two weeks feel like? For years, I took two months every summer. Now piecing together two days feels out of reach. Why in the world would I want another yoga studio?

Judith Lasater ends her classes (or she used to, anyway) by saying, “May you be like the lotus flower, at home in the muddy water.” I think some of the seize-the-day lessons from my two weeks of worry may be lost or too subtle to recognize. What is clear to me though is that when it was happening, I was in the moment, but I was also really, really uncomfortable most of the time. I was not at home in the muddy water. I was insane with anxiety and future tripping and fear. It was difficult to even be awake, and at the same time I was having a nasty battle with insomnia.

More activity is not a long-term antidote to anxiety. I am not looking for more businesses, more jobs, more money or more commitments.  They will find me anyway, I’m sure. Right now, I want time to myself. Time to go on retreat, time for vacation, time to take walks and naps and time to chill out at home and write my blog.

Thank you, Life, for giving me a successful business. That’s what I said I wanted and here it is. Help me just to be okay with that, to acclimate to that, to not need to have the biggest, best yoga empire in the whole world. Let me just stop here for awhile and get my bearings.

May I be like the lotus flower, at home in the muddy water.

back to ambition!

Thanks to all my well wishers... Results are back, and I don't have cancer! Woohoo! I was really sure that I did and halfway convinced that I was already almost dead. Goes to show that I feel fear much more acutely than intuition. Nothing weird about that.

Yesterday we sold 653 packages of 25 classes for $25 through Groupon to brand new Square One students. That's a lot of new students. I was not even excited at all yesterday because I just kept thinking, "I have cancer. I have cancer. I have cancer." I'm excited now!

So I've got a lot of work to do. I have plans to make, and I'm feeling ambitious. Like maybe a second space? Maybe a vacation to a hot, sunny beach somewhere? Maybe a yoga training? Yay! Life!

That's all for now. I know there were a few of you out there wondering...

back to the blog

I've missed my blog. I've been writing, but to myself and to God, waiting for dust to settle.

About two weeks ago, I got a call back from the ob/gyn nurse telling me that I need to come in for more tests after a pap. I'm not going to go into a lot of detail here, but at the more in-depth exam, spots were found, biopsies were taken, and I got really scared.

I'm still waiting on results, and the odds are really good that it is completely treatable. It may even just be a "let's keep an eye on it" kind of thing. But it is really, really scary. I have been completely consumed by the fear and the not knowing, and I wasn't ready to write about it here. It was too much. It also took me awhile to tell the major players in my life, and I didn't want someone in my family to find out by reading the blog. But now I can write, which I'm really happy about.

I think everyday of this little picture I cut out of a magazine once that had the Five Remembrances from Buddhism. (I just googled it and found the very image. I'm so lucky! Here it is. Thanks, Thich Nhat Hanh and plumvillage.com.)

I carried that little piece of paper around with me for years, pinning it on various refrigerators and office bulletin boards, but it's taken this experience to really get it.

I had a moment alone in my morning practice (which is really, really not a big deal. I sit for like 2 minutes and write a little. On a good day.) Anyway, I had this moment when I realized that I would die, and I felt totally supported, totally calm, totally without fear. Wow. I have, a few times while feeling young and healthy, tried to visualize my death as suggested by the Remembrances. The experience was frightening and dark and lonely, and I haven't ever been able to stay with it for more than a second. For the first time, I had a moment with death and with God that wasn't at all scary. It was like, "yeah, this is what happens. It's going to be okay."

I'm a little worried that this sounds morbid, but it's not. I'm not at all saying that I'm going to die from this, or that it's going to happen soon. That's very, very unlikely. Really.

Don't worry, the holy, peaceful feeling didn't stick. It never does. I became neurotic again. But something big has shifted. I'm going to die; you are going to die. Your mom and your children and your siblings and your best friend are all going to die. So there's nothing left but this one instant right now. This time with this person, this flower, this night sky, this scent of cut grass. This is all we've got. And it's really, really amazing. I swear, the Bay has never been more beautiful, my friends more sweet (even the ones who don't know yet), passers-by more fascinating, flowers more colorful, sun shinier, etc., etc., than it has been the last couple of weeks. As my mom, who is a survivor of both breast cancer and a brain aneurysm said this morning, "you get the moment."

Maybe that little slip of paper has been preparing me for this, whatever this is. Definitely, I had moments in the beginning when I just kept saying to myself, "I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready for this." Whatever this is, which is totally unknown, and what I'm realizing with this stuff is that knowing more doesn't make me any more sure. Every time there is new information, there are more questions. There is no certainty, and even though I really want those results, I know that it won't necessarily set my mind at ease, even if the news is "good." There may just be more questions. And it doesn't change the central fact that life is impermanent. We just don't ever know.

Here are some other, more mundane lessons I'm learning that I need to share with fellow health slackers:
1. Quit smoking. (Okay, I already did that, but if the news is bad, it's certain that my 15 years smoking were not helping the situation any.)
2. Get your paps as recommended by your doctor. Don't blow it off.
3. Keep your health insurance, even if you're healthy, broke and self-employed. Don't worry. I kept mine. I won't have to sell the farm.

Ok, that's it. I'm back to the blog, so you'll be getting updates.

doubt

Managing people is an oxymoron. Or at least that’s how it seems to me right now. People do what they want. I’ve been lucky; 99% of the time what I want and what the people I supervise want are close enough that I don’t have to do anything drastic. Like say no.

Occasionally, teachers and receptionists (God forbid) have higher priorities than the well being of my little yoga studio.  They have families and bodies that sometimes get sick and need attention. Obviously. And then there are situations that are a little more ambiguous, and it feels to me like the needs of the studio aren’t getting met in some way and they should be. By someone other than me.  In these cases, I view it as my responsibility as a manager to draw a line, to say no, to be clear, to set rules.

And I find this incredibly, incredibly uncomfortable. I am filled with doubt no matter what I do. If I say yes when I kinda want to say no, I feel weak and ever so slightly resentful. If I say no, I feel like an unyielding bitch that everyone hates working for. I’m supposed to be flexible, right? I’m supposed to go with the flow. On the other hand, my job is to keep the place afloat and sometimes that means drawing lines and having personal boundaries around time.

A lot of what this boils down to is being unsure of myself. Desikachar writes: “We often determine we have seen a situation ‘correctly’ and act according to that perception. In reality, however, we have deceived ourselves, and our actions may thus bring misfortune to ourselves or others. Just as difficult is the situation in which we doubt our understanding of a situation when it is actually correct, and for that reason we take no action, even though doing so would be beneficial. The Yoga Sutra uses the term avidya to describe these two ends of the spectrum of experience.”

The problem is that I don’t really know. Being right feels great, so it’s super easy to put myself squarely in the righteous camp and hang out there for awhile. But then comes that nagging feeling. Avidya is sneaky because it could be that my perception is correct and appropriate and the doubt is avidya. Or it could be that my perception is harmful and incorrect and the doubt is a crack in the veil of avidya.

Who the hell knows? This is when a teacher would come in handy. My only teacher right now is my breath, which frankly could use some help with enunciation.

“The goal of yoga is to reduce the film of avidya in order to act correctly,” says Desikachar. I’m working on it, T.K.V.

I just have to hold both things. I have to live with some amount of doubt about my actions, but I have to act. I’m the business’s primary steward. Saying no to intelligent, reasonable adults is sometimes my job. Sometimes it’s also my responsibility to tell reasonable adults that their actions are harmful to me or to the studio. Sometimes what I decide interferes with what others had hoped for themselves, and they don’t like it. Luckily, I’m not Barack Obama or anything. I can make mistakes without killing all the life in the Gulf of Mexico or endangering lives in faraway (and nearby) lands. 

I’m just someone who’s particularly uncomfortable being uncomfortable. So it all seems like a big deal. My sane guess is that no one involved is currently thinking about me at all right now, which is really the biggest relief of all.

(Written in Word last night with no internet connection. Proven possible.)

intentional upheaval #496

Moving's a bitch, and I do it more than most people. There was one eight-year period in my life when I moved 22 times. It started when I was eighteen, and I moved from Tallahassee, FL diagonally across the country to Portland, OR.  This current move is my fourth in three years, so my record is improving with age.

I think when I was younger, my life was inherently chaotic so the extra chaos of moving didn't sway me too much. This time, I'm a little more swayed. I love the new little house, and I REALLY love the washer/dryer, but last week just went on forever. Everytime I went back to the old apartment, it seemed like there was more junk to deal with and that everything was way filthier than it was the last time I checked. It just never ended.

Until now. It's over. I'm not completely settled in, but the old place is gone forever. The keys are turned in. Actually, they're not because I forgot to do that, but the point is I'm never going back inside that apartment. It's time to reground. I'm not eighteen anymore.

As most of you know, there's no internet at the new space. I really cannot work there, which is not so bad, although last night some work emails came in, and I couldn't help but wish that I could just take care of them right then. And, as you may have noticed, the blog hasn't been happening. My plan for blogging was that I would write in Word, and then go to the studio, connect and post. But that hasn't proved to be very satisfying. In fact, I haven't been tempted to do it at all. Part of the blogging is the instant gratification of instant publishing. I can look at my stats and see the numbers go up. I know people are reading. It's part of the experience for me.

So I'm at the coffee shop trying to decide if my resolution about not having internet was such a great idea after all or if it's another example of  all-or-nothing thinking. Something in my life becomes a little dysfuncitonal or hard to deal with, so I get rid of it all completely. I toss the baby, the bath water and whole damn tub. Sometimes kind of aggressively.

That probably is related to the fact that I move so often.

There is something that is really great about constantly reinventing and reflecting and making things better. Some people call that growth. Now, I'm not a botanist or anything, but let's play around with the plant analogy for a second. Even the fastest growing plants, say bamboo, grow so slowly that you only see the growth in retrospect. Like, "Wow! Remember when that plant was so tiny? Now look at it! It's only been a week." But watching bamboo grow would be boring as hell.

So is what I do growth? Yes, I grow, but the frequent, intentional change of external circumstances is not itself growth. The growth is internal, not controlled by me, not immediately visible. The constant reinvention is great because when I do it with direction and purpose,which I'm starting to learn to do, my life keeps getting better. I'm trading up. On the other hand, it's exhausting and disorienting. My energy is unpredictable, and right now, I feel very, very ungrounded. I don't know where the flea meds are or where I will fit all my rolls of duct tape. I don't know what the routine of my life is at this new place with no internet. It's all in upheaval. It's chaos that I invited in.

Not bad, not good, just change. I'm ready for the change to settle a bit. I'm ready for my back to quit hurting from moving heavy shit and not finding time to practice yoga. I'm ready to have a habit around blogging and writing again, whether it's at the coffee shop or at home on Word or plugged into my very own wireless connection. I'm ready for it all to take shape. And then I think I'll stay for awhile.

I heart yoga part 2 coming soon. It's linked..