Beginner Yoga

Are you interested in trying yoga but don't know where to start? Try a 3-class beginner vinyasa yoga course at Elation Centre in Ottawa. I'm teaching the October session on Saturdays (October 2nd, 9th, and 16th) from 4:00-5:00 PM.

http://elationcentre.com/shop/product.php?productid=16428&cat=303&page=1

Hope to see you there!

Getting caught up in the story

I have dabbled in meditation off and on for the last 12 years or so, ever since my friend, Kristin, and I took a short workshop in Zen Buddist meditation. At the time, we found the whole thing quite amusing, from our confusion over the name of the teacher (was it Seisen Sensei or Sensei Seisen?), to the awkward slow shuffle they called walking meditation, to what turned out to be our favourite instruction (Don't get caught up in the story!), which we still use regularly to this day.

Since that workshop, my on-again, off-again relationship with meditation has led me to explore a variety of techniques. Gazing at a candle flame. Counting my breath. Repeating various mantras. Visualizing the chakras. All of these methods are said to have the potential to bring you to your final goal: enlightenment.

Well, I’m still nowhere near enlightenment, but I keep plugging away with this meditation business all the same. After all, it’s about the journey and not the destination. We’re not supposed to be attached to the results.

So I sit on my cushion, close my eyes, and follow my breath. I find that this is the simplest way to center myself and slow down the steady stream of thoughts. Sometimes I add in a mantra. Sometimes I ask for guidance on an issue in my life and listen quietly for an answer. Sometimes I get an answer. More often than not, my mind is too busy thinking random thoughts to hear the answer or even to clearly ask the question.

People always tell me that they can’t meditate because their minds are too active. They just can’t stop thinking. Like Kristin and I like to say, they keep getting caught up in the story. Well, join the club! Most of us have busy minds and have trouble finding stillness and silence, especially those of us who are meditation newbies.

But that’s why we practice. With practice, we find more moments of stillness, and those moments come to us more readily. We learn to notice the thoughts the moment they arise, and then allow them to float away like clouds and return to the breath. And we enjoy the benefits of those often fleeting moments of non-thinking, of simple being: the sense of peace, the relaxation, the clarity, the feeling of deep connection with the Self.

It’s not a linear path. Some days the stillness comes more easily than others. Some days 20 minutes seems like an eternity, while other days the time flies by. Last week while sitting in meditation, I fell asleep, my head bobbing forward and jerking back suddenly as I struggled to stay awake. I finally gave up and lay down for a short nap.

In a 20-minute meditation session, it’s not uncommon for me to alternate between feeling restless, angry, sleepy, joyful, impatient, annoyed, sad, uncomfortable, and blissfully relaxed. I sit with numb legs and aching hips while my “monkey mind” plans dinner, worries about the kids, writes e-mails, wonders why I suck at meditation, and re-lives entire scenes from The Bachelor.

On a good day, I catch myself early before getting too deeply caught up in the story. I congratulate myself on how good I am getting at meditating, and then I kick myself for congratulating myself , and then I kick myself for kicking myself, and then…well, you get the idea. Eventually, I simply recognize the ego at work, take a deep breath, and let it all go.

Meditating is not easy. It can be a big pain in the butt (literally). But it’s all worth it for those few short moments of absolute stillness and the positive ripple effect they have on my daily life and relationships. I sit because in the end it makes me a happier, calmer, and more present person. Maybe one day I will reach enlightenment, but for now this is more than enough.

Mommy, why are there life jackets on the plane?

Travelling with kids is always an experience. It is an extra special treat when airplanes are involved.

I recently took a family trip to Orlando, Florida with my husband and two boys (aged 7 and 4). We left our house in Ottawa at 6:50 AM, drove to Syracuse, killed an hour at Panera Bread, hung out in the Syracuse airport, flew to JFK airport in New York, killed 3 hours at JFK, flew to Orlando, and finally made it to my parents' rental townhouse at 8:30 PM.

All things considered, the kids were very well behaved. It was a long day, but we made it through relatively unscathed and with a few memorable moments. Here are some of my favourites:

1. On the drive to Syracuse, my 4-year-old announced that he wanted to say good-bye to Canada. He insisted that a proper good-bye required yelling "Good-bye Canada!!!" at the top of his lungs out an open window. This made perfect sense to me until he informed us somewhere around Prescott, which is some distance from the border, that it was time to say his good-byes. Of course, we had to repeat the performance at the actual border crossing, where he added a bonus "We'll miss you!" at the end of his farewell.
2. While exploring the children's airplane exhibit and play area at the Syracuse airport, my 7-year-old son proclaimed in a loud voice that it would be really cool if the plane were to crash and explode with a big BOOM (or something to that effect). While glancing nervously around to see whether any fellow travellers had heard his outburst, my husband and I admonished our dear son, and I silently prayed that he would not make a similar statement (or God forbid mention a bomb) within earshot of the airport security personnel.
3. My 7-year-old perused the airplane safety card as we waited to take off in Syracuse. "Mommy, why are there life jackets on the plane?" he asked. "Oh, that's just in case we need to land in water. But that's not going to happen... Hey, would you look at all the luggage being loaded onto that plane across from us!" But he was not to be distracted. "You mean, like, if we crash?" I didn't get a chance to answer that. "Hey, what are these things hanging out of the ceiling?" he asked, pointing to the pictures in the safety card. "Well, that's in case the cabin pressure changes in the plane." "What does cabin pressure mean?" "It's just the air inside the plane. If there's not enough air, you put on one of those masks to get air. But don't worry - we won't need those. Flying is perfectly safe." He looked at me skeptically, and then was silent for a while. Finally he asked, "Nothing is going to happen today, though, right?" I assured him nothing would. As the plane started to take off, he said loudly, "I feel scared that the plane is going to crash." By this point, he was starting to make me nervous. As I struggled to keep my composure and practice yogic breathing, while trying to loosen my grip on the armrests, I heard my 4-year-old say from the row in front of us, "Daddy, I'm scared we're going to crash! I don't want to crash, Daddy!" I didn't hear Daddy's response. I was too busy shushing and reassuring my elder son (and myself) in between deep, cleansing breaths.
4. I think it was on the second flight, from JFK to Orlando, that they started complaining about the smell. I was sitting in a row of 3 seats with the two boys, while Hubby read his book and relaxed in the row in front of us. The complaining started after the loud whoosh that accompanied a gust of air entering the cabin of the plane (the "cabin pressure" air, I guess. How do I know? I'm not an airplane specialist or whatever). Anyway, Elder son asked me, "What was that noise?" As I gave him the cabin-pressure-air answer, he exclaimed, "Ugh, it stinks!", and blocked his nose with his fingers. Following suit, Younger son promptly squeezed his nose shut. Elder son: "It smells like ginger ale!" Younger son: "Yeah, it smells like ginger ale!" Elder son: "No, not ginger ale, something else... Why does it smell like that, Mom?" Me: "I don't know." Younger son: "I can't breathe when I have my nose blocked like this!" Me: "Breathe through your mouth." Younger son: "I CAN'T." Me: "Yes, you can!" Elder son: "I know what it smells like. Like a dentist's office." You know, I couldn't really argue with him there. The sterile, artificial-smelling air was kind of similar to the smell in a dentist's office. Younger son: "I can't breathe when I block my nose, Mom!" Me: "Then don't block your nose. You'll get used to the smell soon." What I wanted to say was, "Come on, suck it up! Do you really think I can do anything about the cabin pressure air smell?" but I didn't think that would go over very well.
   

Ah, the joys of travel. Good times.

The best yoga style for you

I am often asked by friends and family members who are interested in getting into yoga what style of yoga is the best. The quick answer to that is, "It depends."

There are many styles of yoga to choose from, and many different types of teachers. To choose the best style for you, I recommend investigating some of the styles and trying out a couple that appeal to you.

The article at the following link describes some of the main styles of yoga offered in North America:

http://www.yogajournal.com/basics/165

And don't forget that the teacher makes a huge difference to how well you connect with the yoga class, so don't be afraid to shop around for a teacher you really love.

Frown lines

Ever since one of my girlfriends told me she had had Botox injections in her forehead, I have been obsessed with frown lines. It was like one day I woke up with these lines between my eyebrows, like they had just magically appeared overnight. I had never noticed them before, although I realize they must have been there for some time.

I've always taken my skin for granted, never worrying about wrinkles or age spots or laugh lines. After all, I always had nice skin like my mother, or at least that is what I had been told my whole life. But wait, hold on a sec - what's that between your eyebrows, Mom? Why, it's the exact same pattern of lines that I have! Darn genetics.

OK, I am approaching 40 - I'll be 39 next month - so a few lines on my face are normal. And as a yogi, I'm not supposed to care about something as shallow as wrinkles. So why did I spend an entire road trip to Maine last summer, staring in growing distaste at my frown lines in the passenger side mirror? Why am I so obsessed with wrinkles? I am a little embarrassed to admit that I even ordered these things called "Frownies", adhesive strips that you wear at night that purportedly erase frown lines - a Botox alternative, if you will. (By the way, the stupid things don't seem to work. $24.95 plus tax and shipping down the drain.)

I suppose my fixation with wrinkles is a symptom of a much deeper issue - a fear of aging. The lines on my face are an irrefutable sign that I am getting older. Like many others, I haven't yet come to terms with my own mortality. Fear of aging is pervasive in our society today, so I guess it's not surprising that the mere glimpse of my frown lines in the mirror can bring up feelings of panic, revulsion, and denial.

There is also the societal pressure, especially for women, to look younger, to deny our age, to cover the signs of a life lived with passion and emotion - with creams and makeup and cosmetic interventions like Botox and collagen injections. It's difficult to embrace our aging faces and bodies, to celebrate our older, wiser, and more experienced selves.

The more rational and less superficial voice inside my head tells the fearful, vain, and ego-driven voice that aging has its own rewards (wisdom, self-knowledge, opportunity for introspection, feeling more comfortable in our own skin), that I should focus on my inner strength and health, and the blessings in my life (it all comes back to gratitude), and who cares about a few lines on my forehead? And even as the media bombards me with air-brushed images of young, sexy women and celebrities who spend a fortune on cosmetic surgery and expensive creams to look half their age, I try to listen to this deeper, wiser (and yes, older) voice.

At a yoga retreat for women that I attended a few years ago, I learned the following mantra:

I am blissful, bountiful, beautiful

Excel, excel, fearless!

What a powerful and potentially life-altering message, if only we could fully internalize and believe it. And so I continue to repeat this mantra to myself on a regular basis, to remind myself of my true nature - powerful, loving, kind, strong, and beautiful (both inside and out). And I sit quietly with the feelings of fear and insecurity, acknowledge them without judgement or attachment, and then let them go.

I wish I could say that I am ready to throw out the Frownies, to stop colouring my hair, to end my quest for effective anti-aging creams and serums for good. Unfortunately, I am not quite there yet. But I am willing to consider these things, and to continue my inner work to come to terms with my own mortality and embrace the aging process. Who's with me?

New blog title!

After agonizing for hours (OK, maybe more like minutes) over a catchy yet appropriate title for my blog, this is the best I could come up with. I'm not totally sold on this name, but I was wasting too much time and energy thinking about it, so it was time to just pick something. Also, I believe I was using this little quest for a title as an excuse to procrastinate on actually writing a real blog post!

So this is it. If you can think up something better, I would love to hear your ideas. You can leave your suggestions in the 'Comments' section of the blog.

Guilt and gratitude

Being a Catholic (baptized and raised, anyway) and a mother, I have more than my fair share of guilt. It's actually ridiculous how much guilt I carry around with me. The objects of my guilt range from the most trivial and benign to the more substantial and significant. For example, here are a few things I feel guilty about almost daily:

- Watching bad (but oh so good!) reality TV
- Reading blogs about bad reality TV shows
- Procrastinating at work with said blogs and other equally escapist online materials
- Eating meat
- Binging on chocolate or chips, or both
- Not working out
- Skipping my home yoga practice
- Choosing light, escapist literature instead of spiritually uplifting books and articles
- Not meditating enough
- Choosing to meditate instead of cleaning the kitchen, all the while thinking about the dirty kitchen and other tasks to be completed instead of finding my bliss or whatever
- Not feeding my kids enough vegetables
- Working part-time, yet paying for full-time child care
- Paying someone to clean my house
- Judging people
- Not finishing my son's first year scrapbook before his 4th birthday
- Not calling my Mom every day
- Having so much when so many in the world have so little

And the list goes on... Crazy, isn't it? I truly believe that the majority of our guilty feelings are completely useless and a waste of energy, and yet, I can't seem to shake all this guilt. Just the other day, I reluctantly agreed to play hockey in the basement with my sons (Mom, you be goalie!), and felt guilty that I wasn't enjoying it more. After dutifully standing in net for a respectable amount of time, trying not to yawn uncontrollably or pass out from sheer boredom, I escaped upstairs to wash the dishes. And of course, I felt guilty about that. After all, only a bad mother would choose housework over spending time with her kids, right? Especially after blogging a few months ago about leaving those dishes behind!

So what is to be done? Guilt, it seems, is my constant companion. Like tight hamstrings and frown lines. But I digress.

I guess this is where gratitude comes in. I've been thinking a lot about gratitude lately and reminding myself to be grateful for even the small blessings in my life. Several times a day, I stop the steady stream of thoughts to consciously say thanks for my family, my health, my job, my home, my friends, the sunshine, the silence, my morning cup of tea, my car's heated seats. And when I notice that unmistakable feeling of pointless guilt rising up in me, I try to replace it with a feeling of gratitude. So when I start to feel guilty about that scrapbook, I remind myself that I wouldn't have a first-year scrapbook to work on if I didn't have my two awesome boys. And the only reason that scrapbook isn't done is that I am busy taking care of my boys and watching them grow. When I miss a yoga practice, I remember to feel grateful that I am healthy and able to practice yoga at all, and then I cut myself some slack. Gratitude is so much kinder than guilt. Yes, guilt does have its place when it alerts us to immoral or harmful behaviours and encourages us to be better human beings, but so much of our guilt is the pointless kind that just makes us feel needlessly bad about ourselves. Gratitude, on the other hand, makes us feel good, and also attracts more good things to us.

Gratitude doesn't always get rid of guilt, but it does help. So I'm working on the guilt thing. And the gratitude thing.

Now pass me my hockey stick.