back to the mat?

This impermanence stuff sucks. The resolve and clarity of last week are basically gone. I want to text him 50,000 times a day and say, "No! Wait! Come back! I don't need anything. I'm sad and lonely and discouraged, and I can't sleep, and I liked it much better before when we were together." I haven't sent that text yet, thank God. Or not exactly that text. A lot of the time, I do want him back. I am quite sad and confused and not sure why we can't make it work. But I haven't heard from him, so somehow or another I just need to navigate impermanence, which is, along with suffering and egolessness, one of the marks, or truths, of life in Buddhism. According to Pema, fighting impermanence is the same as fighting life.

Spiritual truths can sure be irritating when we're in pain. I'm sick of the bright side. What I think I may be coming to though is that hanging out in pain is a big waste of time. I may have some choice in the matter. I keep telling myself how sad I am, and sometimes I am quite sad. But right now I don't feel sad. I'm just telling myself how sad I am. And how tired. And how it's unlikely I will ever meet anyone again. And what a shitty writer I am. And that no one wants to read this. And that I might as well cancel all my appointments and go back to bed.

But really, Katy? Let's check the facts. I'm not with this man because he stated clearly that he doesn't want to be in a relationship. That's the only way we know how to relate to each other, so there's not any reason (that I can think of) to hang out. People like and read my blog. You are reading my blog and every now and then I hear from you that you like it. I'm thirty-four and a catch; the odds are nil that my dating life is over. I have moments of real unhappiness, some of which I'm turning into art. I painted last night for the first time in years. I'm not wallowing. I'm getting out and doing what I have to do. I have friends who call me and care about me and want to see me. Those are, actually, the facts.

So what's the problem? What's the cause of my despair? These stupid fucking stories that I tell myself.

Isn't that why we do yoga? Yoga citta vrtti nirodah. "Yoga is the cessation of the fluctuations of the mind stuff." (That is the translation that has always stuck in my mind, although I'm not sure anymore who to attribute it to.)

My suffering right now is largely because of my thoughts, the stories I keep telling myself. I know yoga will help clear that shit away. The truth is that it's been really hard to get on the mat even though I know there's solace there. My thoughts will slow and a lot of the damaging, extraneous, untrue ones will go away for awhile. So I've managed to do a few minutes here and there. Mostly down dogs and inversions, for a change of perspective. A little is okay right now. I'm coming back home.

single again

I know I've been gone awhile. There are a few reasons why, but the big one lately is that I got all caught up in a fast and, as it seemed to me at the time, intense romance. It ended last night, so I'm back to my friend the blog for some processing and solace. Like a good friend, you are always ready to take me back when I'm ready.

It was a very sad night for me. Over dinner, a conversation was started (by me, I suppose) about the relationship and it became obvious that although we were both having a lot of fun, we had completely different ideas about what the relationship meant and where it was going. I was consciously working hard to open up to him, to be available, and it was real work. I needed ground to feel safe, and it became clear in that conversation he was unable to give it. The only thing I knew to do was to leave, so I gathered my things and went home. 

In my practice, I keep coming back to all the different ways we get our hearts open. We get flexible in the spine. We release tension from the shoulders, but most of all we find ground. The common instruction is "root down through your legs." We engage our quadriceps and make sure our feet are lined up with the shin bones which are lined up with our knees and our femurs which come right out of the hip socket exactly parallel with each other. From that foundation, with all that support, we lift up, we allow ourselves to open. Without that, we can still bend our backs, but the quality and integrity of the backbend are compromised. We injure ourselves. It's not safe to really open unless we're fully grounded.

That's my experience, anyway. I was looking for ground, and I didn't get it, so I walked away.

Now how do I deal with the pain in a way that opens me up instead of shutting me down?

I'm trying really, really hard not to slip into blame. Blame feels like an avoidance technique. Did he do something wrong? He was never dishonest. He never intentionally hurt me. He's just not available in the way that I need a partner to be available. Is that his fault? No matter how I turn it in my mind, I can't see him as being wrong. He's not right either. He just is who he is, and I am who I am, and we don't seem to be able to meet each other on this one. 

So I get to own my pain. It's mine. That's really good news. I'm not a victim, and I get to choose differently next time. I know now a little more what I need and what I'm looking for. I'm better at talking about it and asking and finding out if the person I'm with is willing and able to give it to me. And I got to practice saying no and making clear boundaries when I realized my needs weren't going to get met. I got to practice leaving because it was the right thing to do even though it made me so, so sad.

And now I get to practice being sad. I get to care for myself and experience it. The fruits of that will be that I will understand you when you are sad. I will be able to be compassionate to people who are disappointed and heart broken because I let myself go through that too. I will know more what it's like.

Last night I came home and in the midst of a storm, in the midst of strong emotional pain and tears and disappointment, I got to experience being exquisitely okay. I was okay last night, and I still am today. Where did that come from? When did I learn that I can live with my emotions and my disappointments without running away? When did I get to feel this center of me that knew I was safe, that new loves would come (or not), but that either way I was okay? Not I will be okay, or it will work out, as we love to tell each other when we're hurt, but that right there in that very instant, I was doing just fine. Where did that come from? It's brand fucking new, I tell you. I'm so happy I got to see it. I'm glad to know it's there because things do get harder than this. Much, much harder. I know now that it will be there for me then, too.

So that's it. I'm single again. It was a fun month with this man, who I continue to adore. Mostly. I do have pangs of anger and self-righteousness because I'm human and hurt and that's what we do. But I don't regret spending the time with him. And I definitely don't regret leaving. Now it's time to care for myself and my business and my dog and cat and garden, all of which have gotten a little taste of neglect over the last couple of weeks. Back to real life.

no longer cozy

I've been getting a little too cozy in my life, I have to admit. I work relatively few hours, even by the more civilized standards of countries like France and Sweden. I have all the food and shelter and clothing and organic bath products that I need. People show up for my birthday party. I make people happy just by walking in the room with my dog, although it doesn't work so well when I'm alone.

I keep reading Pema Chodron, and she keeps saying run into the fear, get comfortable with the grief, know your nervous habits. Basically, make friends with yourself, not just the happy, day-at-the-park self eating veggie burgers and basking in a warm Saturday afternoon. Those moments happen, of course, but if all moments are those types, I'm missing out on all my hidden nooks and dusty corners. I actually have been wanting a little angst, and of course, I haven't had to wait long.

This isn't a dating blog. I'm not going to write about dating. Except that actually I am. Sorry. I haven't been in a romantic relationship for the better part of a decade. Yes, you read it right. The smaller side of the better part of a decade, but just that I'm using the word "decade" to describe my lack of love life is saying something.

I've been asked why a few times in the last couple of weeks. My therapist asked, of course, and so has a man that I've been on a couple dates with. One answer is that I have been magnificently successful at avoiding certain types of pain. But Pema says run toward what you fear. Get to know your neuroses. Make friends with your discomfort. Maitri. Know that you are not alone. What better way than to face what I have been avoiding? Thanks, Pema. Thanks, Universe.

I often find myself doing one of two things. I spend a lot of time either fantasizing about the future or  dreading the fact that I've already ruined my chances with someone I'm sort of into. (Maybe a little more than sort of.) I've already fucked it all up. I'm living, in other words, in what isn't happening.

What is happening is kind of interesting. I can see myself, for the first time, doing this, and I know now that it's not real. What is real are all of the emotions that I get to experience. Fear. Dread. Excitement. Curiousity. Nervousness. A little wariness. They're really, really interesting, and I get to just sit in my body and feel them. They're not killing me, y'all. Seriously. It's okay. I feel them AND I get asked out again. Weird.

And I get to play around with living in the unknown. Groundlessness. I don't know what will happen. I can experience this knowing that no matter what I think or fear or fantasize about, life is actually happening right now. Life is the uncertainity, the not knowing. The fantasies and the fears are still around, but they've lost a little of their edge. They're kind of cute. They're not unique to me. It's just part of being human and looking for ground. It's part of hope, which I'm learning to abandon.

So the coziness of the last several weeks didn't last long. Good. The business start-up is over, and I need some more excitement in my life. Until I find my silent, angel investor and start again, maybe I can just enjoy this for a little while and not freak out too much about all the different ways it can go wrong. It's not wrong yet, and I'm actually having a little fun.

Plus, as you all know, more pain means more blog entries. You'll be hearing from me.

abandon hope!

If you still haven't read or listened to Pema Chodron, go right now and order something or reserve it at the library or visit your local independent bookstore. Do what you have to do. Everyone should be reading and listening to this woman.

I was sitting in the bathtub this morning with her book, When Things Fall Apart. She's really into getting friendly with being uncomfortable, with being fearful, nervous, angry, agitated, whatever it is. It was in yoga that I first learned to be uncomfortable in my body. I went to these Iyengar classes at the Buddhist Center in Mexico City. I won't go into a lot of detail right here, but is was probably the most collapsed, defeated time of my life. I was lost. I had no bearing. Looking back, I realize that was the best possible state for me to be in, but at the time it just felt overwhelmingly difficult and hopeless.

The teacher was really strict and direct, but in an amused, slightly smiling way. She was always pushing us to be even more uncomfortable than we already were. It was fun for me, for whatever masochistic reason, and I realized in her class that I could be very uncomfortable in my body without fidgeting or running away. I had never done that before. Really, never. Then what began to happen, again and again, is that she would put us in savasana, and I would also feel enormous amounts of emotional pain. She would chant "Om mani padme hum" in this incredibly strong, ethereal voice. I was just there, still, with tears and snot running down my face. For the first time ever, I just felt it, whatever it was, and it was revolutionary in my life.

So I have learned a little about being present and awake in my discomfort. But I read something different this morning, something that takes it even one step further. Pema Chodron instructs us to "abandon hope." She says that hope and fear are two sides of the same coin, that hope is yet another way of wanting things to be different. We are going to feel lots of pain and groundlessness and insecurity. We are even going to die. She says we have to give up hope that it will ever be any different. The word in Tibetan is ye tang che. Absolutely exhausted. Complete surrender. That is the beginning.

I just read it and laughed. Of course. It's hopeless, y'all. We're on a speedboat that is definitely going to sink. We might as well get used to the idea. Pema says don't practice because you're looking for ground or for security or for a safe haven. The practice is realizing that none of that exists.

It's my birthday today. More evidence that indeed the speedboat is sinking. It's also Barack Obama's birthday, and I'm a little worried that it's not fashionable to say this anymore, but I still love Barack Obama. He provided hope in a political landscape that felt completely hopeless. So there's some dissonance there. Maybe we have to have a little hope to keep making progress. If I hadn't hoped that the studio would work, I never would have built it. If I hadn't hoped that Obama would be our president, I never would have campaigned for him, which I loved doing, and because so many of us did it, he won.

Maybe Pema will address that apparent contradiction. I'm not sure I want to be so Buddhist that I never do anything. But in my personal life, I'm becoming a little friendlier with my edginess all the time. I still have addictions, things that I grasp and cling and turn to for solace. One is shopping for clothes. I'm going to do that today. But I'm going to do it knowing that it won't help. I'm still nearer to my death than I ever have been before. I'm still nervous that my business might fail, scared that I will end up old and alone and broke, uncertain about the future of my relationships and concerned about what people think of me. It's a good thing. I need things to practice with. Enlightenment might end up being kind of boring.

if you think you're enlightened...

Here's why blogging can be so difficult: being honest is hard. Right now all I want to do it hit my cat because he won't quit howling and jumping on the computer. It's been a long night. Lots of little irritating shit keeps happening. All my computers, both at home and the studio are going at 1995 speeds. Even though there was a lot of traffic through the studio today, we didn't come close to sales goals. Then there's the pesky cat, and a conversation with someone that made me realize that I'm angrier than I thought at an important person in my life. I realize that if you read this blog at all, you're well aware that I'm not perfect, but it's still hard to admit publicly, even if I've done it a bunch of times before. I really care what you think. Yes, you.

I didn't hit the cat. I did hit the chair near the cat, which scared him away for a few blissfully quiet seconds, but he came right back. I'm sure all he wanted was food and love, but shooing him away felt like the solution to the immediate problem, which was an annoying cat. I was in a hurry. He could wait.

So as all of this was happening, I was typing away that my amazing job as a small business owner consists mostly of being nice to people, data entry and trips to Ikea. And here's the corollary to the "being honest is hard" problem with blogging: being surface-y is boring. What's really happening is I want to kill my cat for being a cat, and I'm pounding away at the keyboard thinking that will somehow make the computer go faster. I feel knotted and weird and angry. I'd rather write about my awesome yoga practice and how great the business is going. But that is definitely not what is happening for me right this second.

There is a Buddhist saying that if you think you're enlightened, look at how you behave in relationships. To be honest, I don't know if I'm behaving well or not. Definitely not doing that great with George, the cat. I do know that there are hurt feelings and confusion and anger in a couple of my human relationships, some of which I am probably responsible for.

Part of what happened tonight was that I looked at teacher stats, and there are a handful of teachers that I have been worried about, and the stats confirm my fears. They're not retaining students. Originally, part of the concept of the Collective was that the teachers would be totally autonomous and teach however they wanted. Looking at it squarely, I think that was my way of ducking the fact that at a certain point I need to offer unsolicited feedback, which I hate and dread. In the early stages of the business, I was constantly scrambling and trying new things to keep the studio afloat, so I would just take teachers off the schedule when their classes weren't doing well. I didn't offer feedback or give them a chance to improve. There are lots of problems with that. What I know now that I didn't understand then is that the primary reason a class is successful is that the same teacher has been teaching it for a long time. That's just been my experience. So I haven't fired a teacher in a long, long time. I keep them around, but I don't say anything either, even when there are simple, clear things I see that they could do to be more effective. I want to be liked too much, so I actively avoid conflict and confrontation. This particular pattern is as old as I am. Changing it won't be easy.

One of the problems with saying nothing is that I get resentful because they don't understand something that I haven't told them yet, and the relationship suffers anyway. Then I go home and want to kill my cat.

(Note credit where due. There's a Bob Dylan line that I'm sort of poaching: "You keep expecting me to remember something you forgot to say." That's what I'm doing. Like some crazy woman Bob Dylan slept with for awhile.)

There has to be a better way. My job is more than data entry and trips to Ikea. There's toilet cleaning and screwing together the Ikea crap I buy. And I have to do a certain amount of work to make sure the quality of instruction at the studio is high, which will mean having a few difficult conversations.

 I haven't opened the Bhagavad Gita since the last time I blogged, which was like a million years ago. (I guess I'm not as spiritual as I was in early July.) But as Krishna tells Arjuna, we have to show up and do what we're supposed to do. That's yoga. So here's my plan: I'm going to take at least one class from every teacher on the schedule and offer everyone some feedback as well as a look at their stats. Most of what I have to say is actually really positive, so a lot of the conversations will be fun.

As far as my other relationships, all I can say is I don't feel particularly enlightened when I'm alone, but in certain difficult relationships, I can feel particularly un-enlightened. The Buddhists, as usual, have it right. I usually feel like most of us are just bumbling along doing the best we can, but mostly thinking of ourselves and mostly blind to how all of our old habits and fears are directing us. That's me, anyway. As I get older and work at it, I get slightly more skilled at bumbling with some direction. I know better what I want now, and I'm more apt to vocalize it than I used to be. I guess the modern psych term for that is boundaries. I've set some boundaries in my personal life that not everyone involved is comfortable with. I think I'm offering enough, but it's less than what they're used to.

But at least I got clear and said it. At work, it's time to do a better job of getting clear about what the studio and its students need and vocalizing that to my teachers. I've done it, however ungracefully, in my personal life, in really weighty, important relationships, so I should be able to do it here. One would think.

After that, I will clean the toilet. Or maybe before. I'm sure it needs it.

fear

I'm on vacation, and for whatever reason, I decided to use my time away from work to go around looking for ghosts. Ghost towns, actually, but it seems like I what I found is my own ghost, irritated without cause, unable to sit still for any period of time. I have an antsy, agitated ghost living in my brain, and it may be causing more neurosis than I realized.

I also seem to have stumbled upon a haunted hotel, where I booked a room for the night. I'm in the lobby now, and I think the night clerk has just left for the evening. The lobby is one of the supposedly haunted spots, where another desk clerk, long ago, was killed after hitting on the wrong woman. I am in room 205, right next to the elevator that they say goes up and down with no passengers all night. Room 212, down the hall, is said to be haunted by a couple who died there. Buddy refuses to walk to that end of the hall. I tried to drag him, but he leaned back on his haunches and let me tug hard at his leash. He just won't do it.

Am I scared? Yes, a little creeped out, I have to admit. It's an old hotel, very quiet, and I am very alone.

I've been scared a few times on this trip. The first ghost town I found was beautiful. Just off the road, shuttered up, unmolested by historians, not made into a state park, completely overgrown. The town, Chinese Camp, still has a population of 150, and there are houses nearby that are occupied. Run down, with too many old cars and junk in the yard, but occupied.

Main Street, where the ruins are, was quiet. It was just me and the dog peaking in between boards while trying to be mindful of "Posted. NO Trespassing" signs. I heard every creak, every animal scurrying, every branch swaying, every noise, especially the ones I couldn't quite identify. It was quiet though. Too quiet, too empty, too still for noon just off a main highway into a National Park the day after the Fourth. And then someone started yelling. Incoherently. All I could understand was "fuck" and "Goddamn." Whoever it was was angry and crazy and no one was yelling back, so he was either yelling at me or he was yelling at himself. Either way, I was getting the fuck out of there.

I got back in the car and drove through Yosemite. All of the drives this whole trip have been way longer than I anticipated. All the good ghost towns are on long, winding mountain roads off a long, winding mountain highways. Ten miles takes many songs on the iPod, a whole chapter of This American Life, and meanwhile it's just me. Me and the dog and the road and my thoughts and this rising, low-key irritation with life.

The next day, I went looking for Old Mammoth City, which is just outside the recreation mecca of Mammoth Lakes. I found the road, but it was closed for whatever reason, so I parked the car and started walking. My Ghost Town book said that the ruins were behind some thickets, off in the pines, so I took the dog and headed off the road a bit, looking for a way through the brush. We walked around for awhile, and then I looked down. We had been walking for several minutes through lots and lots of  plants with three jagged leaves. Poison oak. My dog, with his low belly and thick fur. Me, with my ankle socks and shorts. We were fucked.

Back to the road where I saw the sign: "Point of Historical Interest. Mammoth City." The State of California says it's so. It must be, even though there's nothing but the marker and a few logs from the foundation of an old cabin. I knew there was more. I just had to walk south a bit. I found a path, and I started down it, but I stopped.

Bears. I'm in bear country. Everywhere I go, there are signs, "Don't feed our bears." My pulse rose and I felt sort of clammy. Did I want to be some bear's lunch? And Buddy, his afternoon snack? I thought about it for a minute. I really wanted to see those ruins. I'd come a long way. But there was no one, nothing around. One bicyclist had come tearing down the road in the whole hour that I had been walking. That was it. I knew that eventually someone would find my car parked on the highway, and they would start piecing it all together. Again, I got the fuck out of there.

Later that day, I asked a local about poison oak. "There's no poison oak around here. Too damn cold." Ok. What about bears? Should I be worried? "They don't care a thing about you. Just yell. They'll walk away. They don't want you. Not if you don't have any food." I didn't have any food. Other than me and the dog.

Hmmm. I had a long drive ahead of me, and when I wasn't getting irritated by myself and my lateness (late for what?) or my dog who was restless and squirming and insistent on being in my lap, I was thinking about fear. I've had some experiences with fear lately. Real fear. I was very, very scared that I had cancer. I wrote about that here. I was really sure that I was almost certainly going to die. Turns out, half the women I know have had the same tests, the same procedure, the same thing exactly. It's really, really common. No one dies, or statistically very, very few die. It's really not that big of a big deal.

I never really knew this before now, but what I'm learning is not to believe anything that I tell myself when I'm scared. I will always eventually end up believing, and then living in, the absolute worst case scenario. When I thought I was going to be eaten by a bear, when I thought I was going to be hospitalized because of an internal poison oak infestation (brought on by drinking water from a bottle I had touched after touching my dog, who clearly had lethal poison oak oil all over his fur), when I was sure I was going to die or -- very best case scenario -- get extremely sick and debilitated by cervical cancer, I was absolutely unable to see any of the infinite other possibilities that could occur. There are so many ways that life can go. Infinitely many ways, but in fear, I only see one, and because of that, I think I know what's going to happen. Sometimes I even call it intuition. It's not intuition. It's narrow, fear-based thinking.

It is biological. I mean, when we were cave women or whatever, I'm sure it served us really well to think about, and then to prepare for, the worst things that could happen, the biggest threats. But now, it's not so useful. It keeps me blind. I miss opportunities. It keeps me from doing things that I really want to do.

So I'm still in the lobby of this creepy hotel, but I feel less scared. It's me that I'm scared of.

As it turns out, I happened to bring along a new Pema Chodron talk I downloaded about fear. She speaks about "ubiquitous nervousness." She says we are always, constantly, in low grade fear. It is so constant that we don't even notice it. It's me getting irritated at the dog. It's me flipping through songs after two notes, sometimes before even the first chord. "Next. Next. Next. Next." It's me, unsatisfied, in a hurry, busy. Even on vacation, I'm busy. Even on vacation I'm late. I traveled two days to get to Bodie, which many people say is the best ghost town in the whole country. I arrive at the gate at 5:50, and the park closes at 6:00. Late. Again. I am always five or ten minutes late everywhere I go. Ask my chiropractor. Ask my friends. The reason is that I'm terrified of having to wait for you. Waiting means sitting. By myself. With my thoughts and nothing to do. Emptiness. Vast emptiness and boredom and ME, ME, ME. There's too much unchartered territory. I'm not prepared to show up. I'm not ready. I'm scared.

It's still spooky here in the lobby. Every time the door opens, I jump. A few couples have come back to the hotel from dinner or drinks or whatever. They smile at me and go right to their rooms. The desk clerk is still gone. It's just me. Me and my dog, who's antsy again. And there's the quiet and the old photos and the mismatched antiques.

I'll take these ghosts, and the horror movie distraction of being in a haunted hotel, over my personal ghosts anytime. My ghosts are crazier, harder to identify, more persistent, more pervasive. I understand now why most people are paired away, insistent on being in relationships. I've been very successful avoiding that because I like to drive, if you know what I mean. I am not a negotiator. I don't know how to compromise. I go my way, so being single has always suited me. I'm not so sure anymore. Here's what's true of cancer, ghosts, screaming violent crazy people, bears, what's true of all my fears: I face them alone. It's just me. And God knows I have a hard time with that.

I need to take the dog out for a last pee before bed. We're going out on a dark street in a town I don't know. But the street is so much less scary than the hotel. And the hotel is so much less scary than me alone with my self. I hope the elevator ghost rests tonight. I'm going to need to sleep.

writing (or not)

Success is not what it seems.

Think about getting a yoga pose. I mean really getting it. Getting it so that (barring unusual circumstances like injury and illness) you do the pose 100% of the time that you try. When I started doing yoga, I couldn't get into crow. I just wasn't strong enough to support my weight on my arms. I used to practice it at home. I would practice and fall, practice and fall, practice and fall. I'm glad no one was watching. The first time I got both feet off the floor, I was thrilled. It was so exciting. But it took a long time after that to be able to do it consistently. Now I can always do crow, but I didn't notice the shift from sometimes (gleefully) getting into the pose to always bringing my feet off the ground with no fuss and no excitement and certainly no hopping. The first time is exciting, but really getting it isn't. It just happens.

Success is that way. The first few times we had freakishly good days or large classes, I was so excited. Now we have good days and large classes all the time, but I'm still the same person. Nothing's changed. It didn't make me happier in a lasting way, and I didn't notice the day that it all changed. (Some of you might wonder if it was the day the Groupon ran. Although our classes got really big then, at this point that promotion has little to do with the financial growth of the business. That might change as the Groupon people convert to regular, paying customers.)

So let's not get too attached to success. That's a reminder to ME, because I do. I think being happy and secure rests on whether the business is successful and profitable and supporting me and writing checks to teachers that actually mean something. I'm not going to lie. It helps. But then other things crop up to make me insecure. Security is an inside job.

Sloka 53, Chapter Two of the Gita is: "When your mind, which has been tossed all about by conflicting opinions, becomes still and centered in equilibrium, then you experience Yoga."

It's the same thing I've been talking about for months in this blog, but in different contexts. Judith Lasater's "May you be like the Lotus Flower, at home in the muddy waters." Pema Chodron's focus on equanimity. It's not about the peak experiences, nor is it about the God-awful ones. It's about how we navigate. Getting a yoga pose requires focus and attention and discipline, and we need those qualities in our life, so they're worth pursuing. But for me, looking back on it, it's the process that's useful. Actually being able to do crow pose is almost completely useless in my life. If I weren't a yoga teacher, it would serve absolutely no purpose whatsoever.

I was going to write about writing. As often happens, I got side tracked.

Writing will, no doubt, be like that too. I just keep writing and it will all fall into place. I don't need to worry that the book isn't written (or even started) or that I haven't kept up with the blog as well as I would like. I'm still writing. It's a process. The blog continues to be fun. I can sit down to write about one thing, and end up somewhere else entirely. No one has ever complained. Eventually, I want to add some structure to my writing. I do have goals around it, but I don't need to worry too much about it.

I just have to keep doing it. Like trying to get crow pose. Alone, falling, imperfect. One day I'll look back and realize that at some point along the way, I got it. I won't be thrilled or excited or filled with bliss. But I will smile. Because the process was so enjoyable.

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..

i heart yoga part 1

Ok, so the consensus is that I write about yoga. That's the consensus of one (me) because I didn't hear from anyone. I guess as the writer it is my job to figure out what to write about.

Luckily, I started reading The Heart of Yoga by T.K.V. Desikachar recently, and it's giving me lots of things that I want to think and write about. Desikachar is the son and student of Krishnamacharya, who was both Pattabhi Jois and Iyengar's teacher. But enough name dropping. It's a great book, very simply and clearly written, and I think it may be the perfect book for a new yoga student to start with. It took me five years of practicing to pick it up, but you guys don't have to be as slow as me. (Oh, and, by the way, we sell it in the shop.)

Anyway, he lists a bunch of different definitions of yoga. I'm just going to talk about one, which is from Patanjali, who in the Yoga Sutras, famously writes "yoga chitta vritti nirodah." I've seen this spelled and translated a million different ways. I like Desikachar's translation, which is "yoga is the ability to direct the mind exclusively toward an object and sustain that direction without any distractions."

So how am I doing with my yoga? God, you know, the more I read about it, the more I see ways I can grow. That's the purpose of self-study, which is actually one of the niyamas, or "dos" in yoga. Study yourself, study the scriptures. It is also possible to use a spiritual practice as a whip. "I'm not good enough. I'm not good enough," becomes the mantra. What I'm doing here is self-study. One day I'll write a blog entry about the difference. It's sort of hard to articulate, and I think I confuse the two a lot. Right now I know by the way it feels. This is self study.

Anyway, back to the topic. I am so often distracted. The only times I can think of that I am consistently not distracted are when I am teaching yoga or when I'm writing. But all the other moments of my life are ripe with multi-tasking and a viciously short attention span. I constantly need to move on to the next thing. Now. And then the next thing. And the next thing, and then, oh wait! I was doing that original thing which is still incomplete, so back to task A.

Desikachar puts it this way: "yoga means acting in such a way that all of our attention is directed toward the activity in which we are currently engaged." This makes me think of my current decisions around getting rid of things. The pruning. Too much stuff is a distraction. That's why monks live in tiny rooms with cold floors and worn, hard mattresses. In the West. In the East, I guess they live in caves.

I'm not a monk, and I'm not interested in renouncing the material world. But getting rid of what I'm not using means I will have more opportunities to focus on what is present and useful in my life. Right now, as I've written about here, I'm considering letting go of the internet at my new house. That would be huge for me. The TV went away long ago, but the TV shows didn't. I'm laptop-addicted. I may have to just sit with myself. Maybe I won't let five years go by before I read another really important book. Maybe I'll write and reflect more. Maybe my yoga will get a little deeper.

It's amazing to me how yoga happens. How it unfolds. Practice and everything falls away. Everything. It's not immediate, but when I look back and I see how much simpler and fuller and happier my life is now compared to when I started doing yoga, I'm in awe. If you had told me then to quit smoking, quit drinking, quit eating meat and give away half of my possessions, I would have told you to go fuck yourself. Seriously. But giving up those things just became so obviously the correct action when the time was right. There was no gruelling decision to make. I didn't have to try. I just kept practicing. This shit works, man. It just does.

My new BFF Desikachar says, "we begin where we are and whatever happens happens." How lovely. I don't have to be perfect. You don't have to be perfect. We start practicing yoga while we are still smoking and drinking and sleeping around or whatever it is for us. We don't start practicing after we got all that figured out. It will never happen. I love yoga. Start where you are.

Dear readers,

OK, I'm kind of sick of this blog right now. I want to keep writing, but really. Is this all I've got going on? A few Joe-joes and a cheap trip to Target? I didn't even eat the whole box. Not even a full row. Where's the angst? Where's the drama?

There is none right now. My biggest problem right this second is that between the cat napping on my right thigh and the dog's head on my left thigh, there is nowhere on my lap to put my laptop. So it's perched precariously on one knee, held up by the heels of my hands while I type. Cozy little life.

My personal finances are still a wreck, but I've gotten really used to that. The more I hear, the more I understand that that's just what happens to new entrepreneurs. It's a hump that I hope I get over on the sooner side, but I'm not alone. The business is solid and profitable, and if I just ignore a couple bills every now and then, I have enough money to get by. There's nothing else to say about that.

So, readers. What do you want to hear about? I can write about running a business. I can write about marketing and management, and maybe it will be sort of fresh and different from the rest of what's out there. But really what seems to resonate is writing about being crazy. Because we're all crazy, so y'all get it. But I'm feeling sane right now, and I want to keep writing anyway. Do you want me to write about how I used to be crazy? Or maybe I should just wait until I'm crazy again. Shouldn't take too long.

Anyway. I may give the blog a little break. I hate to do that because I have some readers, and I really enjoy it. I'm just feeling kind of stumped. Like I need a little direction. Suggestions, please!

checking out

Today I was feeling kind of down. I busted into the emergency earthquake Joe Joes and made a retail therapy trip to Target. It had to be budget retail therapy, so all I got were cheap plastic sunglasses and fake gold hoop earrings. But it kind of took my mind off things for a minute, and the truth is I like my sunglasses and I like my earrings. I see the beginnings of a summer uniform. Unfortunately, neither the cookies nor the buying helped for long. I'm not working much right now. No new projects, nothing to distract me from what ails me.

So what ails me? A few things, but I'm not sure they're really the point. There are always, simultaneously, lots of upsetting things happening and absolutely nothing upsetting happening. It's just my perception at the moment that changes. Unfortunately for me, I haven't yet figured out how to quickly change my perception, if such a thing is even possible. Also unfortunately for me, at some point in this life, I decided that being happy all the time was owed me, and when the discontent or the melancholy starts to settle in, I have to do something quick. Go somewhere. Buy something. Eat something. Drink something. I have not learned yet just to sit with it.

Sort of. Sometimes friends who read this blog tell me I don't give myself enough credit. I sit with it way better than I used to. An old friend told me yesterday that I am the healthiest person she knows. Weird, because I feel like the least healthy person I know. But let's face it. Five years ago I smoked a pack a day, drank like a fish, could inhale an eight ball of coke in one night with no help, and didn't think twice about running through the drive-thru after a long night drinking. Drunk. So compared to the vast majority of friends from that era, I'm an Olympic athlete. Compared to the San Francisco Bay Area yoga community, I eat way too many Joe Joes.

What if I didn't compare? What if I just said, hey, I've come along way, but I'm not done yet. I'm still growing. I still have work to do.

This is self-reflection, not self-flagellation. I wasn't very happy today. I have some ideas why, chief among them that I'm human, and humans have a wide range of emotions, many of which don't feel that great. What's more interesting is that my inclination continues to be to check out.

I'm not exactly sure what the solution is. I think that's why diets fail. I can tell myself that I will never, ever eat Joe Joes again, but unless I face whatever it is that Joe Joes seem to be the answer to (it's rarely hunger), I will eventually go back to eating them.

I don't know why I need busy-ness or chaos or cookies or trips to Target. I don't know why I can't just sit with myself. I'm just noticing now how that plays out, and I'm curious. Just like I'm curious about the rage. I still like myself. Really.

blog about blogging

I'm a little worried about this blog.

The business is doing fine. We are not exactly doubling attendance this week, but we're plugging along. I like the new pricing structure. Some people have paid a little more. It's not much money now, but I think as people get used to it, it will bring in a fair amount of extra revenue. Along with the new pricing structure came a really clear decision to quit using low price in our branding. It's not really the point. Do we want people to be able to come, and have we priced it in a way to facilitate that? Yes, absolutely. Is it the best, most important thing about us? No, I definitely don't think so.

So why am I worried about the blog? I'm worried about the blog because I want to keep writing, but sometimes what I do here starts to feel repetitive and without direction or structure.

I'm worried about the blog because sometimes I write things that are innocuous to everyone except the person who I'm writing about. I don't insult people here, but if you're the friend that I'm pruning, you know that, and in retrospect, writing it in a public place feels unkind. But can I write in a way that only involves myself and people who I am absolutely sure will never read this? Do I even want to do that?

I'm worried about the blog because I'm a little sick of thinking about the business, and the two sometimes go hand in hand. I'm going to take a mental break from Square One for a couple of weeks. I have to show up for some classes and certain administrative duties, but I'm not going to worry about changing or fixing anything or trying anything new. I'm feeling a little burned out. It's not that I work too hard, exactly. It's just that I think too much about work.

I'm moving this month anyway, as my readers and friends know. It's a lot of work, and I can take this time to do it slowly, thoughtfully, carefully. In the process, I'm getting rid of what's not serving me anymore. I'm thinking now I might put the internet connection on that list. No TV, no internet. My obsessing usually centers around the laptop screen. Who's signed into class? Have sales grown in the last fifteen minutes? I have an office five blocks away from my new house. I can go in and look at reasonable intervals. What if my home were a really oasis from all that? What if my home were a place where I cook and read and rest and maybe do a little gardening in my 20 square foot yard? What would that be like? Does that sound kind of boring?

Anyway, this brings us to the end of yet another chapter in the Yoga of Small Business. Life is life. Sometimes it feels a little aimless and scattered, kind of like this entry. Hang with me, y'all! I'll get thematic again soon, or maybe I'll start working with a different medium. Maybe I'll pull out the old art supplies, which are the only unused things I'm saving in the Great Purge.

Until then, keep reading. It may be that I'm not writing about the business, which I think just needs to sit on the cooker for awhile, but I plan to keep writing. Maybe I'll turn this into the Yoga of Small Living. Just for a couple weeks. That will wear off too.

pruning

A friend who's a little older and probably a hell of a lot wiser than me told me recently that at a certain point in her life, she asked God to take anything that wasn't necessary. That way, as she put it, she could be miserable for awhile and then get on with her life.

I loved that. It made so much sense to me. I've spent so much of the last year worried about losing stuff, losing face, losing money. Now I have the same prayer. God, take it! Whatever isn't useful. Let's get it over with! Let's rip that bandage right off.

God got busy pretty quick. Within a day, I found a little cottage that had exactly the things that I've been wanting since I moved into the apartment where I live now, washer/dryer, outdoor space, big kitchen. So I took it. Doesn't sound much like pruning, does it? Except that I'm going from 1000 square feet of fully furnished living space to 450. Every stick of furniture that isn't essential has to go. I love it! I'm so tired of accumulating shit I don't need. I want it gone.

Later in the week, I had a huge blowout with a friend. It sounds very callous to say I'm pruning friends, but I am having a long, hard look at relationships. Some of my relationships are dysfunctional and kick me in the ass time after time after time. And I always go back for more. My fear, I'm sure, is of being alone. I don't have a million friends. Honestly, I'm kind of shy, and it's not that easy to get to know me. Don't I need all the friends I can get? No. Even some of the friends I love I have to let go of. They're not working. I don't have to keep trying. I'll be okay. They'll be okay, and if they're not, I probably couldn't help them much anyway.

And then today, my car got broken into. They took my little GPS. I really like that GPS. It has a lovely male British voice who tells me to "take the motorway" when I need to take the motorway. I let it guide me even when I know where I'm going. There's something soothing about never being lost. I've grown to love it. But it is an unnecessary possession. My phone has GPS. It doesn't talk to me, but it will get me from A to B. That's all I need, and really even that is a luxury I've done without 31 of the last 33 years.

I don't mind that my car got broken into. I just don't care. It makes me a tiny bit sad to think of my British friend Tom Tom being traded for a hit of crack, but I can bear it. Easily.

There are things that I am terrified of losing. My dog. My business. My family. My health. I hope God doesn't try to teach me any REALLY important lessons right now. But there is a lot that I am ready to see go. The idea with pruning of course is that what comes back is better, healthier, more vibrant. It's hurts at first, maybe, but it paves the way for better things. I'm ready! Bring it on.

Meanwhile, the business is growing. I have all my big plans, a new pricing structure, new marketing ideas, enormous new goals. But not because there's something wrong. I just like change, and I love growth. I want to keep making it better, more useful and more effective for more people. That's my job. Pruning helps.

operation double attendance

Ok, I have an ambitious goal. And a really bad name for it. I want to see twice as many people come into Square One in June than in April. Is that too much, too high of a goal? June is when the yoga business goes into the summer slumps. Thirty days is not very long. What in the world am I going to do to make it happen?

I don't know, but I have a few ideas. Postcards. Press releases. Smartly placed google and facebook ads.

But I reallly need your help too. We still have referral cards you can give to everyone you know that will get them into their first class for free. If I get ten back with your name on it, you'll get something nice. I don't know what. I think one time I said a free class. Maybe a tee shirt too? But do it because getting more people to square one is a win-win-win. You (in your new tee shirt) and your friends are happy because you do yoga together at the absolute friendliest, best priced yoga space in the whole Bay Area. Square One gets strong and healthy and fiscally strong and keeps growing so more people get to do yoga. Simple, huh? Cards are in the hall. Take a lot, and let me if we run out. I have more!!

So the challenge is to double attendance in two months. It's a big puzzle how to do it, but I think we can. Do you have any good guerrilla marketing ideas to pass along? Let me know! Share them on this blog. Let's make this happen!

Update: I am changing the pricing structure in June to sliding scale 10/12/14. There will be a $12 minimum if you use plastic. Unlimited memberships will be 75/85/95. Five class packs 47//56//65. Eleven class packs will be 100/115/130. We'll have names for the levels on the scale like low, mid and supporter.

Update #2: I'm tired, but no longer angry. I don't hate myself for blowing up. It's something to watch about myself, but just more evidence that I'm part of the human race, which is perfectly fine by me.

rage

Today presented lots of evidence that I am definitely not perfect yet. Even with all the yoga, I am still human, y'all. I lost my shit, once again, on another human being. I punched a wall and used the word "fuck" in several very personal, very loud and very angry insults.

(When I told the story later to a friend, she laughed at me because I used the side of my hand. Punching drywall is painful. She promised me that next time she's on this coast, she'll teach me the joy of a real fist. I hope maybe I won't need to know that by then.)

Anyway, this time it wasn't a landlord or a telephone customer service rep or a gas station attendant. Nope. It was a friend. I'm not going to get into whether she was wrong or not. I mean, really, does it matter? The point is that in many ways, my life and my behavior still feel totally out of control.

Self restraint is a complete mystery to me. I'm baffled by it. I've been trying to find the point in my interaction today when I could have walked away and gone to find my center again. I don't know when that point was. I was driven, like a crazy person, to keep myself in the argument until the time came when I was absolutely overcome by rage. Once the rage hit, it was a little bit like being out of my body. I knew as it was happening that I was acting insane. I could also see it in her face. I crossed the line from regular old everyday anger to something much closer to violence. But my body kept yelling and screaming and punching shit and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I was incapable in that moment of practicing self restraint.

A lot of you who know me or read my blog will point out that I quit drinking and smoking and snorting coke, but all I can tell you is that didn't happen because of self restraint. I think that if we're lucky, with the big stuff, the addictions, we get a little grace. If we've really had enough, it just falls away.

With the more subtle stuff, there's some work to do. The truth is, I have no idea how to go about it. Go back to therapy? Okay, maybe. But I can't really afford to do that right now, so get your butts to Square One. Your yoga teacher needs to pay her therapist.

Which actually brings me back to what I intended to write about when I sat down tonight: getting more butts into square one. Stay tuned...

a little dispassion

May is looking good. So far, we have made sales goals everyday. If we keep this up, I might be able to rub a few dollars together and do something extravagant. Or, God forbid, save a little.

Here's the really good news. I'm not excited about it. I don't feel any joy directly attributable to the fact that the yoga studio is pulling in enough money to support me and all my small animals. I'm happy enough. I'm working hard and really enjoying my work, but for once, my mood is not directly determined by how well the business is doing.

When things aren't going well, and I'm depressed and worried about it, I particularly want to change my mood by telling myself to be dispassionate, to let go of results, etc., etc., but the high times are fun! I don't usually want to be dispassionate when things are going great. Seeing the business succeed is a rush. There's nothing like it.

But I like this. Maybe if I don't let myself get too high with the highs, the lows won't be so devastating. I know now that it always changes. Five days of high attendance and sales can be followed my fifteen days of mediocre sales and low attendance. Five great days can also be followed by more and more great days. Both things can be true simultaneously. It really doesn't matter much. There's not too much need to get excited.

pricing

So the studio is starting to fill up. Sort of. Most of the evening classes most of the time feel busy and thriving and full.

But they're not. Low cost yoga is a volume business. We have to get about 30% more bodies through the door before I start breathing easy, and we could easily double our current numbers, which would make me really, really happy.

So that's the goal, y'all. Start squishing your mats together, because we're about to have a new definition of full.

But the truth is we don't need 30% more bodies; we need 30% more revenue. Bodies are just one way to do it. Changing pricing is another way. I've been trying to get more bodies in for fifteen months, and while we've had amazing growth, we seem to be at a plateau. I'm still working hard at it, but it would be unwise not to at least consider my pricing structure.

But a lot of people (in fact everyone I've spoken to except the Harvard MBA who first brought the idea to me that my pricing is too low) say that if Square One raises its prices, it will be a complete shift in the core values of the studio. We are a low cost yoga studio, whose mission is to make yoga accessible to everyone. There must be 10,000 postcards out in the world that proclaim in black and white: "we heart $10 yoga."

I have no interest becoming another expensive yoga studio. But as my friend with the MBA pointed out, if the business isn't sustainable, I will not be bringing yoga, low cost or not, to anyone. If the business isn't profitable, we can't grow.

The other thing she pointed out that I know without doubt to be true is that price is a psychological indicator of quality. How many of you buy Aveda or Bumble and Bumble and Bumble or whatever it is instead of the all natural brand at Trader Joe's? Or Tide instead of the generic? I don't anymore, but I certainly have, and I know that even though I could never tell the difference in how my hair looked or felt, I kept buying the expensive products. Maybe square one customers are smarter than that, but could that have something to do with why we're not filled to capacity? I mean, don't you think we should be blowing up? We have awesome teachers and a beautiful space and we're friendly and all the elements are there.

I'm not going to take away "we heart $10 yoga." I heart $10 yoga. But I know that many square one students are coming because they love the teachers and the space and the feeling, not because it's cheap. That may have brought you in, but it's just one reason among many why you stay.

I am thinking creatively about pricing structures that keep drop ins low, but help the business stabilize financially and eventually grow so that we're reaching many, many more people. What I'm leaning toward is a sliding scale structure that starts at Square One's current prices, but that goes up from there. I am also really interested in adding more classes at unusual times that have an even lower price structure. The late night classes now are only $6. I would like to add more classes at off times at prices that make it really, really easy for everyone, even the fashionably broke, to come to yoga.

Here's your homework if you're a loyal square one customer: Help us overcome the fact that price is an indicator of quality by telling everyone you know how great the classes are and what a lovely space it is. Keep spreading the word about yoga with a mission. I know classes are looking fuller these days, but remember that low cost yoga is a volume business. We need numbers. And be patient as our mats start to slide closer and closer together.

ambitionless

I'm feeling a refreshing lack of ambition.

I taught tonight. It was a late night class, and there were two regulars there. I love teaching yoga. I'm not the best teacher out there. I'm not the wisest. I don't have the strongest asana practice, but I love doing it. It's fun. It gets me completely out of my head. And I get to do it whenever I want.

I love square one students. We have the best group of people taking classes at the studio that I can possibly imagine. They are all, every single one of them, smart and friendly and generous. They smile a lot, and they are super forgiving. I used to know all the regulars. I don't know all the regulars anymore. I'm a little bummed about that, but it's a sign of really good things.

I enjoy my job. I like looking at numbers and growth and planning schedules and hiring teachers and talking to students. I love it. I even like the really mundane stuff like stickering postcards with the new address. If put on music, I can do it for hours.

What more do I want? I could easily have more money, but even that isn't really bothering me right now. I ordered organic produce home delivery, and I'm looking forward to cooking more and eating out less. I have clothes, more than I need, and I always like what I wear. Even my dog has nice clothes. I have a house full of furniture and dishes and pots and pans and towels and sheets and all that. There's absolutely nothing to buy.

I set my own schedule and I don't have to work more than about thirty hours a week if I don't want to. I usually want to, but it's not necessary. If there's not much happening in real estate and I'm not moving the studio or starting a business, I have lots of free time. I wake up without an alarm. Today I walked the dog and then I did my morning pages as suggested by The Artist Way. I had time this afternoon to take the Sutras to the coffee shop and read and write a little. I ran into a friend and chatted for awhile. I was never in a hurry. I was never stressed. It was lovely.

To think I could live like this all the time if I just stayed ambitionless.

It's nice, but it won't happen. I have always thrived on excitement and newness and change. (Some in the professions call it chaos.) I already have plans and ideas and new ways to busy myself and achieve more. Soon I'll be overwhelmed and freaking out again.

Until then, let's just enjoy the calm.

writing

Was yesterday's entry a little intense? Should I put some distance in between me and it? In between you and it? In between you and me?

I can do that. I can write about my day today. I itemized all of my business expenses from 2010. I could tell you all about it. That's what a real business blogger would do. But I don't want to. It's just not that interesting.

I want to write about my life. It's too much for this blog, which is in present tense and has a narrow scope. I need to learn to write. I guess I kind of already know how to write. I do it a lot. I have half an MFA in creative writing. (I got the feeling that not too much else was happening in the second half.) My grammar's not bad. But I don't know how to start a big project. Weird. I started the yoga studio. That was a damn big project.

I don't know how to structure my day to make time for it. I don't know how to begin. I don't think anyone will read it. I'm terrified.

Someone told me once that procrastination is a fancier word for fear. He's right, you know. I procrastinated itemizing my expenses because I was scared of my financial situation, scared that I was spending too much money. I was, but so what? I can make progress because I've seen it. I know where I am. Avoiding doesn't help. The work is inevitable.

Can I start? Don't I need a place to write and a time of day and a window I can look out of and a more comfortable chair? Or can I just start? What would happen if I just woke up tomorrow and began? What would that be like? What if I started right now?

I'll let you know if I try.

Good night.