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§ August 27th, 2009 § Filed under Yoga § No Comments
Good at Yoga
from Bluebird Art & Yoga by Megan O’Laughlin – August 26, 2009
I don’t really consider myself to be good at yoga. I don’t throw my leg up behind my head, balance my weight on one hand and perform other such pretzelly balances. One of my teachers once told me that compared to my peers, who excelled at flexibility and strength, I was the “creative one”. This was likely intended as a compliment, but the statement really bummed me out. After years of pouring focus and dedication into practice, I was still just THE CREATIVE ONE, like I’ve been hearing my whole life. That could mean the quirky one, the shy one, the one who is scared of speaking in front of groups, the red faced one, blah blah blah. She also told me I had an amazing ability to balance and I thought So what, anyone can balance on one foot!…EXCEPT THAT NOT EVERYONE CAN.
This conversation from years ago bruised my ego like nobody’s business. But looking back, I realize that she was right and not right all at the same time. As the years have gone by, I’ve become more flexible and stronger, maintaining the ability to balance while also giving a lot of thanks for my tendency towards cultivating creativity. I think this creativity has helped me enjoy yoga more, as I’ve explored yoga not just through practice but also through playful art pieces. It has helped me take bits and pieces of what I’ve learned through the years and find ways to mash it all together, western yogini that I am. So she was right that yes, I am creative. But I’m also not always creative, or only creative, just as my friends aren’t only flexible or simply strong. Some days I’ve very creative, other days not at all. We are different all the time.
The reason that my ego felt so bruised was quite related to this notion that to do something, especially a physical practice, which yoga is often regarded to be in the west, you must Be Good At It.
But why?
Things we are naturally good at can get a little boring, no? We feel alive and energized when challenged, when we think there is NO WAY we’ll do something and all the sudden- TAAA DAAA! You’ve done it. Awesome! I felt that way when I tried climbing and when I learned to ski and I certainly feel that way about yoga. When I decided to leave my full time job, my kind supervisor said “but you’ve done a really good job!” and I replied by saying, truthfully, “I think I really like doing things that I’m naturally kind of bad at, it is more challenging”.
Most yogis I know have backgrounds as dancers, or runners, b-ball players, skiiers and so on. My background is pretty much in sitting in front of a canvas and making excuses not to exercise. Yep, I was never much of an athlete. In fact, I was terribly self conscious and usually too hard on myself to even try anything new. Potential failure scared me too much to get out of my comfort zone and I just figured that everyone would always be better than me. While I figuered I’d never really be fit or athletic, I knew I was smart and creative and those things were what I really clung to.
So yoga entered my life as more of a mental practice and a way to regularly honor the world. During my Peace Corps years I spent hours meditating and struggling through asanas. I’m sure my poses were quite frightening, my shoulders hunched up by my ears in downdog, my shoulders jutting forward with my hips sticking out behind me in triangle pose. But I loved it. And practicing by myself for that time (after receiving helpful lessons from friends and books sent over from my mom) I began to note the benefits of the practice. The feel of calm that washes over you after a vigorous practice, the added flexibility and strength, the reminders I’d carry with me during difficult encounters of just relaxing and breathing- these were all the things that got me hooked. Once I actually stepped into a studio on a regular basis I was sold on yoga and therefor not too discouraged by the varying abilities around me. Just like in art or in anything else, there would always be someone better than me and someone worse than me and it was all a matter of opinion, so who cares?
I’m not the yogi brought to the front of the room to give examples of amazing poses. In fact, I’ve been a yogi brought to the front of the room to demonstrate the reality of living in a body that is short limbed and extremely tight in the shoulders. That’s just me and that’s just how I am. The one time I tried to push into my shoulders to make them loosen up, I bounced around too much in the pose and in the process ripped my rotator cuff so I’m done with that. One of my teachers is amazingly flexible but has had to work through the years on strengthening her joints. We all have something to work on and we all have strengths too. My shorter limbs make it easier for me to do certain arm balances and helps keep my core body stronger. I try to make light of all of our differences in my classes, explaining to students that it isn’t a big deal to come up on your fingertips in certain poses if your arms aren’t long enough. It isn’t a big deal that your leg isn’t thrown up over your shoulder. It also isn’t a big deal if you are really loose and you do a forward bend and your head is nearly on the floor. It is just how you are, so just honor yourself.
People say they are bad at yoga because they can’t touch their feet and they feel that they are weak and inflexible. Well I say- So what! No one is bad at yoga. Just do the best you can and let the benefits infuse your life. Be patient and loving towards yourself and then try to practice that with those around you. That is what yoga is all about!
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I like that song so much I think that is the second time I’ve used it within a blog title.
I now feel safe telling the blog world that I am, in fact, leaving my job as a social worker at that one non profit agency. The reasons are vast and numerous but basically come down to one important nubbin- I haven’t been very happy. I love working with people, but for the last few months I’ve spent a lot of time alone in my office, sitting in front of the computer and then, as I’ve lamented before, getting all the kinks readjusted from my chiropracter since sitting at a computer all day doesn’t seem to work too well for me. This has been a very tough decision because I’ve loved working at that not-to-be-named agency. I’ve learned and grown so much and received invaluable mentorship and work experience. But I know it is time to move on.
Move on to what?, you ask. Well, my last day is August 17th, just 2 months exactly from the wedding! I didn’t really plan it that way. I’m going to keep teaching yoga while I look around for another social work position out there, preferably doing direct clinical practice. We’ll see how it goes. In the meantime, I will teach yoga, work on my paintings and prepare for this upcoming wedding. In a time of such transition and uncertainty, I’m finding tremendous enjoyment in considering things like What kind of flowers should be in the bouquet? and What type of basket with the flower girl carry? These are rather peaceful questions with simple answers, much easier to ponder than What the heck am I doin?! This might also explain the frequent postings about my cats or other mundane topics, as I am considering this blog as a way to vent or just avoid stress.
Image from nataliedee.com
Really, that I’m finding solace in wedding planning is a true testament to how we can move on from painful experiences. I’m thrilled and excited to marry Q and can hardly wait for our fun wedding weekend so that we can spend so much time with our closest loved ones. So instead of making a monthly budget or counting my hours towards my social worker license, let’s consider the types of amazing flowers that can go into a bouquet for an October wedding. There are going to be a lot of aqua and dark blue accents in the wedding, so I’m afraid those lovely warm orange-ish fall bouquets won’t work very well.
I really love peonies. They look so fluffy and soft. However, they aren’t easy to obtain in the fall so no peony bouquet for me. That is probably best for me, because they do resemble some kind of lovely pastry and I might end up eating them.
But, one of my favorite flowers will be available this summer and that is the hydrangea. I love these flowers and all their color variations. I would like to have a bouquet of white hydrangeas with an aqua ribbon. My mom suggested that then the bridesmaids can have blue hydrangeas and perhaps out little flower girl can have some pink ones too. So pretty!
What do you think? What kinds of flowers do you think are particularly beautiful in a wedding? And what other types of little wedding details would you like to me share with you on this here blog? (By the way, I do plan to post pictures of my DIY invites, which have now been sent out to nearly everyone and hopefully received by now).
Have you ever done something that you KNOW you just HAD to do, something that in the long run was the best decision and yet you felt like a real a**hole the entire time?
This is how I have felt since Wednesday morning, when I stuffed my cats into their carriers and took them to the kitty kennel.
The cats know what those carriers mean and with their uncanny ability to put two and two togetha, they run and hide when those carriers come out. Carriers indicate a trip in the car. Perhaps moving to a new place, going to get shots or maybe even going for a cross country trip, during which cat will get locked in the car in Wall, South Dakota. Well, I had to catch the cats and then rudely stuff them into their carriers. This was all just mere moments after discovering Bob cowering near the basement stairs, after he’d leaped off the balcony the night before.
The car ride was really fun and by really fun, I mean it in a sarcastic way because it sucked. Cuphead can only manage a little squeak of a meow and was pretty friendly in the car, nuzzling against the carrier door when I called her name. Bob, on the other hand, went totally manic, meowing and howling until I turned the radio up so loud I couldn’t really hear him. Bob was thinking about all of those annoying signs all the way to Wall, Drug and how he JUST DOESN’T WANNA GO THERE! Screw you, Wall Drug! was what Bobby was saying, even though it sounded like “MOWWWWW MOWWWW RAWRRRRRRARRRRRRRRRR!!!!”
The kitty kennel is right by work and they only house cats in there- no barking dogs! Each cat gets a spacious cage with food, clean litter and the entertainment of the ridiculous kittens who run around that place as well as the ancient cats who do nothing but sleep on the counter. I saw one of those kittens begging to be harrassed by the vacuum cleaner hose. That seems so strange to me, like cats who like to bathe. What in the world? I felt bad leaving the cats there, but we’re in the middle of moving and the chance that they’ll run off is high, plus it was MISERABLY hot this week, especially in our old apartment. If you read that Seattle broke a temperature record this week, it was actually that nasty little apartment with no air circulation that hit the highest temp. For reals.
The kitty kennel owners are nice and always seem eager for some human interaction, but then all we do is talk about cats. They say it is hard to get work done with the kittens being so cute. “Don’t you want to take a kitten home?” one of them asked me as a tiny gray striped cat rolled around on my foot. I felt a pang in my heart and then imagined what Q would say. “Noooo.” I replied reluctantly, remembering all the times I tried to sneak new cats into our family home as a kid. One time I made up some story about how the neighbors gave me the cat before they moved, but the reality is that they moved away and abandoned him. Good thing for the cat that an adoring kid across the street was all to eager to LIE on his behalf.
So I’ve been going to visit the cats since I dropped them off in this place. Both the cats recognize my voice when I come in. Cuphead rubs her head against the cage, squeaking her little meow and Bob emerges from his hiding place in the corner. Those two have suprised me as the kennel folks informed me that all Bob does is hide while Cup begs for attention. Also, one of the owners mixed up Cup’s name and called her “Overpass”. I open up their cages and pet them, I walk Bob over to Cup’s space so they can say hi and feel sad when I leave. I assure them that I’ll be back soon to take them to our new awesome home, but when I say such things all they hear is BLAH BLAH BLABBITY BLAH.
Well the cats are safe and I know it is for the best. Still, Cuphead looks startled and lonely while Bob appears quite strung out. At least it isn’t another trip to Wall Drug, though, right?
