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Showing posts with label yoga. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yoga. Show all posts
August 5, 2015
wallow (v.)
I sometimes think our modern-day, over plugged-in lives don't afford us a lot of opportunities nor incentives to dive into our thoughts and observe them in greater depth. We blame the distractions that throw us into so much spotlight that we think the best course of action is shutting everything off - be it our devices or our brain, meditating till ideas just wash away in the dark. "Simply breathe in and out, forget the dramatic tides and just be."
But what of those cathartic releases that we can only experience if we wallow in our thoughts and our personal experiences? What of the tidal crashes that erode cliffs into beautiful shores from which we can enjoy the ocean so that we can see it's not such a scary monstrous thing?
There's lots of talk about mindfulness, of this benefit of taking time to let our thoughts free flow in - and out - of our line of awareness. I think this helps us create a scale for observing experience so that we don't sink from giving relatively unimportant things too much weight; but I think there's value in plunging into our dramas, too, chasing our thoughts and indulging in them, because the stories, shallow in the existentialist scheme of things, keep us afloat.
Experiences, I find, always increase in their value when we take a moment to plunge deep and wallow - "indulge in an unrestrained way in (something that creates a pleasurable sensation)." Sometimes we get through our lines too fast, the scene ends and we move on to the next without realizing this is all happening "live" - right now and only now. Wallowing allows us to to look back, knowing now what we wish we knew then, that what we experienced - whether good or bad - is never to be experienced again in quite the same way.
As a storytelling animal, I am tempted to string together a tale of my doings and re-tell it to myself and to others. It gives me a clear line to follow, even when it's crooked or faded. Most of us are like this.
We all want to indulge in our story and its arcs. (It's what gave rise to status updates, I'm sure.) It places us somewhere, when the everywhere is hard to figure out. It lets us feel we are directing when the acting gets tough. It gives us the lead rather than the inconsequential role of a prop in the background.
I do feel a constant tension, though: While I am urged to plunge into life, busy with acting and stage managing my complicated play, I'm also increasingly and undoubtedly reminded of the curtain.
There's a space where there's some comfort to be found, though - and I get there by walking for extended periods of time.
During my trips of walking and wallowing, (with a soundtrack playing as a backdrop to my internal drama,) I finally get to wallow in my experience. I invite nostalgia to take me to my bittersweet past and I let worries and hopes take me to those "somedays." I get out of the Now despite being incredibly present in a sea of people.
And I think this keeps me sane. It lets me cry over banalities when I've been too busy to cry and it lets me turn things over in my head until they lose meaning and I no longer feel like wallowing. Maybe that's what Boethius was getting at.
Every time I walk, though, I hit a wall eventually - that curtain; the dreaded fourth wall when I catch myself narrating and the illusion (and truth) is revealed; the embankment that keeps out the waters until reality spills over: That really, it's all kind of.. small in relation to that immense "story" we too often think too little about - the story in which ours are only a chapter or a line, perhaps a pause between typos, a drop of ink in an unfathomable ocean.
But the wheel keeps turning, I guess. My walks tend to eventually remind me that I'm really just on a hamster wheel like everyone else, getting nowhere really, however slowly or quickly I go. It's a bitter pill to swallow but the best I can do is use the knowledge as consolation. It's easier to navigate the ocean with a turbine. The alternative is getting swallowed up.
But what of those cathartic releases that we can only experience if we wallow in our thoughts and our personal experiences? What of the tidal crashes that erode cliffs into beautiful shores from which we can enjoy the ocean so that we can see it's not such a scary monstrous thing?
There's lots of talk about mindfulness, of this benefit of taking time to let our thoughts free flow in - and out - of our line of awareness. I think this helps us create a scale for observing experience so that we don't sink from giving relatively unimportant things too much weight; but I think there's value in plunging into our dramas, too, chasing our thoughts and indulging in them, because the stories, shallow in the existentialist scheme of things, keep us afloat.
Experiences, I find, always increase in their value when we take a moment to plunge deep and wallow - "indulge in an unrestrained way in (something that creates a pleasurable sensation)." Sometimes we get through our lines too fast, the scene ends and we move on to the next without realizing this is all happening "live" - right now and only now. Wallowing allows us to to look back, knowing now what we wish we knew then, that what we experienced - whether good or bad - is never to be experienced again in quite the same way.
wallow (v.) Old English wealwian "to roll," from PIE root *wel- "to turn, revolve," with derivatives referring to curved, enclosing objects (e.g. volvox - "genus of fresh-water algae" with Sanskrit cognates, valate, "turns round," ulvam "womb, vulva"). Figurative sense of "to plunge and remain in some state or condition" is attested from early 13c.We should roll in our thoughts every once in a while - roll around like children in the mud before an uninhibited skinny dip or pants-down getaway. We should strive to find the time to sentimentalize, over-complicate, patheticize (new word) our experiences and our telling of them so that we can infuse them with the meaning - and the value - we long to find in life, in general.
As a storytelling animal, I am tempted to string together a tale of my doings and re-tell it to myself and to others. It gives me a clear line to follow, even when it's crooked or faded. Most of us are like this.
We all want to indulge in our story and its arcs. (It's what gave rise to status updates, I'm sure.) It places us somewhere, when the everywhere is hard to figure out. It lets us feel we are directing when the acting gets tough. It gives us the lead rather than the inconsequential role of a prop in the background.
I do feel a constant tension, though: While I am urged to plunge into life, busy with acting and stage managing my complicated play, I'm also increasingly and undoubtedly reminded of the curtain.
There's a space where there's some comfort to be found, though - and I get there by walking for extended periods of time.
During my trips of walking and wallowing, (with a soundtrack playing as a backdrop to my internal drama,) I finally get to wallow in my experience. I invite nostalgia to take me to my bittersweet past and I let worries and hopes take me to those "somedays." I get out of the Now despite being incredibly present in a sea of people.
And I think this keeps me sane. It lets me cry over banalities when I've been too busy to cry and it lets me turn things over in my head until they lose meaning and I no longer feel like wallowing. Maybe that's what Boethius was getting at.
I get to process the thoughts in my head, afford them some credence and value for a time, before I whisk myself away onto the next scene or let their fabricated meaning fall away in a meditative moment. After all, it's about moving on by walking away a victor over our thoughts. (Though, I admit it feels better to give them a fighting chance every once in a while, than to win by always idly standing by in peaceful resistance until they just go away.)
- roll (v.) c. 1300 "turn over and over, move by rotating"; late 14c. as "to move (something) by turning it over and over;" from Old French roeller "wheel round," from Latin rotula, diminutive of rota "wheel".
- walk (n.) c. 1200, "a tossing, rolling;" mid-13c., Meaning "manner of action, way of living" is from 1580s; hence walk of life (1733). "easy victory," 1838, such as one that happens in the absence of competitors, when the solitary starter, being obliged to complete the event, can traverse the course at a walk. Transferred sense of "anything accomplished with great ease" is attested from 1902.
Every time I walk, though, I hit a wall eventually - that curtain; the dreaded fourth wall when I catch myself narrating and the illusion (and truth) is revealed; the embankment that keeps out the waters until reality spills over: That really, it's all kind of.. small in relation to that immense "story" we too often think too little about - the story in which ours are only a chapter or a line, perhaps a pause between typos, a drop of ink in an unfathomable ocean.
But the wheel keeps turning, I guess. My walks tend to eventually remind me that I'm really just on a hamster wheel like everyone else, getting nowhere really, however slowly or quickly I go. It's a bitter pill to swallow but the best I can do is use the knowledge as consolation. It's easier to navigate the ocean with a turbine. The alternative is getting swallowed up.
swallow (v.) Old English swelgan "swallow, imbibe, absorb." Old High German swelahan "to swallow," German schwelgen "to revel"), probably from PIE root *swel- (1) "to eat, drink". Sense of "consume, destroy" is attested from mid-14c. Meaning "to accept without question" is from 1590s.
March 15, 2015
spontaneous (adj.)
Always
For those who know me, know me to be a pretty "busy" person. My calendar is usually packed at least a week ahead, filled with a mix of work and play, exercise, friends, family, chores, extracurriculars (because those still exist even when you work a 9-5 right?), etc. Me-time, and you-time, and us-time. It's all in there.
Those who know me better, know why I don't love the word "busy." It makes it seem like I'm not enjoying it, like I haven't made enough time for other (read: better, more important) things; as though I haven't chosen any of it. But, I truly believe that what we make time for should be what we believe in. And I think my OCD planning gets me living true to that for the most part.
My calendar fuels me; it sets me in motion - whatever my pace - making me feel safe in the comfort of the rails of my plan, moving steadily forward with stops along the way. Sometimes it's a short visit, sometimes an extended stay; and sometimes it can be just a brief glance out the window; but nonetheless, I anticipate it in some way.
I even leave room for "spontaneity" by clearing my calendar! I guess you could say, I plan for the unexpected. I don't jump out of the train very often, but when I do, I've mentally prepared to leave that as an option. Some would say this nullifies the spontaneity, as you shouldn't really "plan" to be spontaneous, but I beg to differ. In some ways, I think I'm always acting spontaneously - and this kind of proves it:
I can't doing something 'out of the blue' without being inspired, moved, or propelled by an outside source, something external to you that made you change your course. And ideally, we should always be taking in the world to help us decide how to fit in it; mapping it out, then choosing a way. Sometimes we take the fork, and sometimes we take a knife to our plans and have to reconfigure the journey. But, in either case, we should be feasting on life with a hungry heart.
Sure, sometimes we may not want to be somewhere, or we'd rather be somewhere else; but in the end, we've still decided it to go about it that way; we've chosen a track and stuck to the course. If you're good at it, this shouldn't bother you.
Today
The day was like most other Saturdays, with a yoga class thrown in because I was feeling this "funky" feeling and wanted to, as one friend called it, "let yoga get the itchy feeling out!" I tricked myself into thinking power yoga would help me power through this feeling, and after a few hours of vegging out after class, I peeled myself off of my mom's couch and tried to force myself out; but it just didn't jive.
See, at the back of my mind, I didn't really plan to do anything tonight - or rather, I planned to do nothing. Yet, I wasn't comfortable with this idea of "staying in on a Saturday night." I let habit and this imaginary pressure get to me, not forgiving or excusing myself for not being in the mood for any of the otherwise fantastic options I feel grateful to have had tonight; perhaps a bit too melancholy for a night out, or a bit "socially-drained" after an epic and very stimulating night of square dancing the night before (more on this later), something about today had me a seeking seclusion for shelter.
For me, to function at my best, I need to prepare myself for what's coming so I can set myself in the right 'mode'. Tonight though, I totally failed at that. My "I-wanna-be-alone" trigger got muted by "it's Saturday night!" and I found myself standing at the bar about to meet my friends, begrudgingly wanting to escape back to my apartment. I derailed a bit, I guess you could say.
I initially thought I totally lamed out. After an awkward hello and goodbye with my friends (likely interpreted as rude or selfish unfortunately - sorry), I went home. To do nothing "on a Saturday." Until that is, I did something I didn't plan to: write. And now I'm back on course, and it feels allllllright.
And it's Sunday already.
For those who know me, know me to be a pretty "busy" person. My calendar is usually packed at least a week ahead, filled with a mix of work and play, exercise, friends, family, chores, extracurriculars (because those still exist even when you work a 9-5 right?), etc. Me-time, and you-time, and us-time. It's all in there.
Those who know me better, know why I don't love the word "busy." It makes it seem like I'm not enjoying it, like I haven't made enough time for other (read: better, more important) things; as though I haven't chosen any of it. But, I truly believe that what we make time for should be what we believe in. And I think my OCD planning gets me living true to that for the most part.My calendar fuels me; it sets me in motion - whatever my pace - making me feel safe in the comfort of the rails of my plan, moving steadily forward with stops along the way. Sometimes it's a short visit, sometimes an extended stay; and sometimes it can be just a brief glance out the window; but nonetheless, I anticipate it in some way.
I even leave room for "spontaneity" by clearing my calendar! I guess you could say, I plan for the unexpected. I don't jump out of the train very often, but when I do, I've mentally prepared to leave that as an option. Some would say this nullifies the spontaneity, as you shouldn't really "plan" to be spontaneous, but I beg to differ. In some ways, I think I'm always acting spontaneously - and this kind of proves it:
We should always strive to be driven by choice. (I posit the 1650s addition had more to do with ((psuedo-)science than philosophy).
- spontaneous (adj.)
- 1650s, "occurring without external stimulus," from Late Latin "willing, of one's free will"
I can't doing something 'out of the blue' without being inspired, moved, or propelled by an outside source, something external to you that made you change your course. And ideally, we should always be taking in the world to help us decide how to fit in it; mapping it out, then choosing a way. Sometimes we take the fork, and sometimes we take a knife to our plans and have to reconfigure the journey. But, in either case, we should be feasting on life with a hungry heart.Sure, sometimes we may not want to be somewhere, or we'd rather be somewhere else; but in the end, we've still decided it to go about it that way; we've chosen a track and stuck to the course. If you're good at it, this shouldn't bother you.Today
The day was like most other Saturdays, with a yoga class thrown in because I was feeling this "funky" feeling and wanted to, as one friend called it, "let yoga get the itchy feeling out!" I tricked myself into thinking power yoga would help me power through this feeling, and after a few hours of vegging out after class, I peeled myself off of my mom's couch and tried to force myself out; but it just didn't jive.
See, at the back of my mind, I didn't really plan to do anything tonight - or rather, I planned to do nothing. Yet, I wasn't comfortable with this idea of "staying in on a Saturday night." I let habit and this imaginary pressure get to me, not forgiving or excusing myself for not being in the mood for any of the otherwise fantastic options I feel grateful to have had tonight; perhaps a bit too melancholy for a night out, or a bit "socially-drained" after an epic and very stimulating night of square dancing the night before (more on this later), something about today had me a seeking seclusion for shelter.
For me, to function at my best, I need to prepare myself for what's coming so I can set myself in the right 'mode'. Tonight though, I totally failed at that. My "I-wanna-be-alone" trigger got muted by "it's Saturday night!" and I found myself standing at the bar about to meet my friends, begrudgingly wanting to escape back to my apartment. I derailed a bit, I guess you could say.
I initially thought I totally lamed out. After an awkward hello and goodbye with my friends (likely interpreted as rude or selfish unfortunately - sorry), I went home. To do nothing "on a Saturday." Until that is, I did something I didn't plan to: write. And now I'm back on course, and it feels allllllright.
And it's Sunday already.
March 11, 2015
mindfull (adj.)
Today I experienced/ participated in my first guided "Shamata" meditation, at the Shambalah Tibetan Buddhist meditation centre (they hold free weekly classes). I say "experienced" and "participated" because of my reluctance to decide on how active or passive this "doing" was: I came away having felt the unequivocal tension and paradox present in the practice of meditation:
Arriving, then letting go; putting in effort, but not trying too hard; concentrating on not concentrating. Being gentle, but disciplined.
The gap between quietude in body and in mind eventually shrunk - as I tried to quiet the bustle of sentience and reason that seems to come naturally to us as we go about the world. On the cushion, the stillness of body gave way to my mind to start filling the space with a more calm, less visceral being.
I tagged this post with the label "travel" because I really went somewhere. Meditation ventured me somewhere between sleep and wakefulness on all fronts: For those 7 (?) minutes, I oscillated between a deep - yet subtle - feeling of just "being" (for infinitesimally short periods of time that somehow felt long enough for me to remember them) and a shallow, blunt protrusion of the most trivial thoughts, like "my eyes are watery" or "I am going to fall asleep" that brought me back to my physical existence.
What I gathered from the talk that followed, was that neither place - whether in shallow existing or in deep being - is "bad"; the aim of meditation is to become aware of both, and of everything in between; in time, you learn to hold more space for reflection on all experience, affording you a chance to mindfully respond to life rather than to impulsively react. The first step is to hold more space for ourselves, so that ultimately there is more space for one another; with enough practice, and as this becomes more normative, we can all play a part in contributing to a world of ubiquitous kindness, acceptance, compassion, tolerance - as opposed to aggression, rejection, and self-consciousness (the harmful kind).
One line from the teacher that struck me was
This reminded me that the foundation of all our forms or expressions - whether physical, spiritual, intellectual, or emotional, are the acts of the mind - how we come to reflect on our being in the world is what drives our responses and reactions, which has a huge impact (and may arguably be the sole influence) on how we come to form our identity and how we relate to others in the physical world.
Another line that resonated was the instruction to
To me, this simple notion of a thought just simply resting upon something, completely defines the act and aims of meditation. Just meditating on that spirals me closer toward that infinitesimal moment in time I experienced today and hope to tap into more often - of just being, and of being mindfull, not mindless.
*Disclaimer: I've long been curious in all sorts of philosophies, and spiritual practices (can you tell??), though I admit I've never taken to study any one kind or style at length nor in great detail; my authority to speak about meditation and mindfulness is solely based on my personal spiritual experience and my intermittent philosophical tinkering with a bit of informal everythings (or a whole lot of formalized nothing). So apologies if I've complicated, oversimplified, misnamed, misplaced, assumed, undermined or misused any terms, concepts, tenets, etc; I'm just rambling myself out of the absurdities and nausea of the existentialist's abyss following a relatively short stint into my subconscious. Thanks, and have a nice day!
Arriving, then letting go; putting in effort, but not trying too hard; concentrating on not concentrating. Being gentle, but disciplined.
The gap between quietude in body and in mind eventually shrunk - as I tried to quiet the bustle of sentience and reason that seems to come naturally to us as we go about the world. On the cushion, the stillness of body gave way to my mind to start filling the space with a more calm, less visceral being.
I tagged this post with the label "travel" because I really went somewhere. Meditation ventured me somewhere between sleep and wakefulness on all fronts: For those 7 (?) minutes, I oscillated between a deep - yet subtle - feeling of just "being" (for infinitesimally short periods of time that somehow felt long enough for me to remember them) and a shallow, blunt protrusion of the most trivial thoughts, like "my eyes are watery" or "I am going to fall asleep" that brought me back to my physical existence.
What I gathered from the talk that followed, was that neither place - whether in shallow existing or in deep being - is "bad"; the aim of meditation is to become aware of both, and of everything in between; in time, you learn to hold more space for reflection on all experience, affording you a chance to mindfully respond to life rather than to impulsively react. The first step is to hold more space for ourselves, so that ultimately there is more space for one another; with enough practice, and as this becomes more normative, we can all play a part in contributing to a world of ubiquitous kindness, acceptance, compassion, tolerance - as opposed to aggression, rejection, and self-consciousness (the harmful kind).
One line from the teacher that struck me was
see the body as a space to hold your mind.
This reminded me that the foundation of all our forms or expressions - whether physical, spiritual, intellectual, or emotional, are the acts of the mind - how we come to reflect on our being in the world is what drives our responses and reactions, which has a huge impact (and may arguably be the sole influence) on how we come to form our identity and how we relate to others in the physical world.
Another line that resonated was the instruction to
let your thoughts sit upon the breath, rather than to think through the breath.
To me, this simple notion of a thought just simply resting upon something, completely defines the act and aims of meditation. Just meditating on that spirals me closer toward that infinitesimal moment in time I experienced today and hope to tap into more often - of just being, and of being mindfull, not mindless.
 |
| “I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.” |
*Disclaimer: I've long been curious in all sorts of philosophies, and spiritual practices (can you tell??), though I admit I've never taken to study any one kind or style at length nor in great detail; my authority to speak about meditation and mindfulness is solely based on my personal spiritual experience and my intermittent philosophical tinkering with a bit of informal everythings (or a whole lot of formalized nothing). So apologies if I've complicated, oversimplified, misnamed, misplaced, assumed, undermined or misused any terms, concepts, tenets, etc; I'm just rambling myself out of the absurdities and nausea of the existentialist's abyss following a relatively short stint into my subconscious. Thanks, and have a nice day!
December 13, 2014
integrity (n.)
Integrity. I hear this word often in yoga class when body alignment is concerned: Holding poses with integrity, pushing to a safe, healthy edge by being honest with what you're capable of or feeling so you can give your body a challenge without hurting yourself. Not being so worried about what it looks like from the outside but feeling it come from inside. Being able to look yourself in the eye in that mirror with the knowledge that you're giving it your all and your best while being good to yourself.
This is true in life, too. I try to remind myself of the importance of living with integrity, particularly when my thoughts get the best of me - when infinite options and worst-case-scenarios pollute my brain towards paralyzing indecision or confusion.
Dictionaries define integrity in three ways:
Whatever it is, you gotta do it with integrity - whether it's sticking to your guns or giving up (you can give up with integrity as much as you can fight with integrity); it's about feeling certain in the decisions you make, or rather, as certain as possible (you can't help what you feel but you can help what you do about it). And you get there by being honest with yourself. And then you push that outwards so that it's reflected in your actions - so that you are being honest with those around you, so that you're living honestly.
It's hard getting clarity in this crazy world. How can we hope to navigate the hardships, irrationalities and challenges we face in life if we can't even own up to what's actually happening or how we feel about it? Without clarity, honesty, we risk muddling everything and living in a hazy limbo, which is not a good nor productive place to be.
Ask yourself the tough questions, don't leave holes, or turn a blind eye. Then act accordingly.
This reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend a few days ago. I talked out some stuff I was confused about with her and at the core of our conversation came out my truth - something I had not really solidified as the real answer when in conversations with myself. I learned then, that sometimes it takes talking to someone else for your truth to come out in plain view; it's there, but maybe you haven't owned it yet.
After all, the opposite of integrity is deceit.
It can be fairly easy to lie to yourself - or at least to waver on your stance about something - when it's in your head and you're your only audience. Sometimes talking it out with someone can actually help you judge the integrity of your own claims. You may not know you're being dishonest of course, but hearing your claims out in the open puts them under scrutiny - under your scrutiny.
And that takes grit [integrity - an etymological coincidence but I beg to differ) - it requires a certain strength of character, courage and resolve to be willing to hear the truth out loud. But it's so worth it. Because then you're aligned, living on your edge, and growing stronger with each new challenge - no longer just posing, but living and breathing it, just like in yoga.
This is true in life, too. I try to remind myself of the importance of living with integrity, particularly when my thoughts get the best of me - when infinite options and worst-case-scenarios pollute my brain towards paralyzing indecision or confusion.
Dictionaries define integrity in three ways:
- Steadfast adherence to a strict moral or ethical code.
- The state of being unimpaired; soundness.
- The quality of being whole or undivided; completeness.
Whatever it is, you gotta do it with integrity - whether it's sticking to your guns or giving up (you can give up with integrity as much as you can fight with integrity); it's about feeling certain in the decisions you make, or rather, as certain as possible (you can't help what you feel but you can help what you do about it). And you get there by being honest with yourself. And then you push that outwards so that it's reflected in your actions - so that you are being honest with those around you, so that you're living honestly.
It's hard getting clarity in this crazy world. How can we hope to navigate the hardships, irrationalities and challenges we face in life if we can't even own up to what's actually happening or how we feel about it? Without clarity, honesty, we risk muddling everything and living in a hazy limbo, which is not a good nor productive place to be.
Ask yourself the tough questions, don't leave holes, or turn a blind eye. Then act accordingly.
This reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend a few days ago. I talked out some stuff I was confused about with her and at the core of our conversation came out my truth - something I had not really solidified as the real answer when in conversations with myself. I learned then, that sometimes it takes talking to someone else for your truth to come out in plain view; it's there, but maybe you haven't owned it yet.
After all, the opposite of integrity is deceit.
It can be fairly easy to lie to yourself - or at least to waver on your stance about something - when it's in your head and you're your only audience. Sometimes talking it out with someone can actually help you judge the integrity of your own claims. You may not know you're being dishonest of course, but hearing your claims out in the open puts them under scrutiny - under your scrutiny.
And that takes grit [integrity - an etymological coincidence but I beg to differ) - it requires a certain strength of character, courage and resolve to be willing to hear the truth out loud. But it's so worth it. Because then you're aligned, living on your edge, and growing stronger with each new challenge - no longer just posing, but living and breathing it, just like in yoga.
February 24, 2013
rest (v.)
We all know what rest feels like - from times of catching the flu, or being sleepy, fatigued, or just plain lazy.
However, an interesting aspect of rest - as it is defined in physics - is rest as it refers to an object that is in a stationary state in relation to another object: "When the position of something with respect to its surroundings does not change with time it is said to be at rest," says Wikipedia.
On resting the body:
Over the last couple of weeks, my 40-hr work week, 8-hr/week commute on the bus, and sometimes restless sleep has caught up with me. My poor immune system that's successfully warded off every bug on this planet for the last year and a half finally gave up. I got sick. I then needed to become "stationary" in respect to my status quo self - the me that goes to work and functions effectively in the outside world; in other words, I needed to rest - my body.
However, how do we integrate rest into our everyday lives when we're not sick - when our mind needs rest, rather than our body?
On resting the mind - even when you're moving:
For me, often the best rest comes from the kinds of activities that resemble the complete opposite of lounging in sick-mode on the couch with a How I Met Your Mother marathon in the background. I can't seem to let go and "forget about the rest of it" and just relax. It's precisely the rest of everything - the obligations, the fun, the events, the adventures - that my mind needs most in order to really relax.
It's the work week that slowly builds up and tires my mind. Work challenges, long hours, lots of thinking, stress; these slowly wear on the mind and once the weekend comes along, my mind needs, well, a rest. However, my mind can't sit on the couch.
So, if my mind is to rest - i.e. find a "stationary" mode in relation to its state when it's in overdrive, working and thinking hard and being productive - it needs to find an opposite state.
What I've found is that it's possible to train your brain to derive rest from all sorts of activities - even ones that many of us may not think of as being necessarily restful. I've found rest in climbing a mountain; it's also enveloped me in the middle of chaturanga in yoga class. I find it frequently as I wander through grocery aisles picking up groceries for the week. And sometimes, my mind gets a great rest from the same activities as my body - when I cut myself off from the rest of the world and let go and embrace the rest of my body.
The key, I think, is in not obligating yourself to limit what rest can be. Instead, see it as something relative that depends on the world around you and where you are within it.
Perhaps you're a walking virus receptacle overhauled by a sinus headache that just needs to sleep; or perhaps you're a ball of fun that just needs to bounce somewhere new because the rhythm of the routine is deflating you; or maybe you just want to curl up somewhere and eat a bowl of chili and let the world pass you by. It doesn't matter - you'll find your rest.
Just observe: Has the world just started moving a bit faster and you need to catch up? Or is it you that's slowing down? Figure out your state and then rest up until you can get moving again.
Rest up, y'all!
However, an interesting aspect of rest - as it is defined in physics - is rest as it refers to an object that is in a stationary state in relation to another object: "When the position of something with respect to its surroundings does not change with time it is said to be at rest," says Wikipedia.
On resting the body:
Over the last couple of weeks, my 40-hr work week, 8-hr/week commute on the bus, and sometimes restless sleep has caught up with me. My poor immune system that's successfully warded off every bug on this planet for the last year and a half finally gave up. I got sick. I then needed to become "stationary" in respect to my status quo self - the me that goes to work and functions effectively in the outside world; in other words, I needed to rest - my body.
However, how do we integrate rest into our everyday lives when we're not sick - when our mind needs rest, rather than our body?
On resting the mind - even when you're moving:
For me, often the best rest comes from the kinds of activities that resemble the complete opposite of lounging in sick-mode on the couch with a How I Met Your Mother marathon in the background. I can't seem to let go and "forget about the rest of it" and just relax. It's precisely the rest of everything - the obligations, the fun, the events, the adventures - that my mind needs most in order to really relax.
It's the work week that slowly builds up and tires my mind. Work challenges, long hours, lots of thinking, stress; these slowly wear on the mind and once the weekend comes along, my mind needs, well, a rest. However, my mind can't sit on the couch.
So, if my mind is to rest - i.e. find a "stationary" mode in relation to its state when it's in overdrive, working and thinking hard and being productive - it needs to find an opposite state.
What I've found is that it's possible to train your brain to derive rest from all sorts of activities - even ones that many of us may not think of as being necessarily restful. I've found rest in climbing a mountain; it's also enveloped me in the middle of chaturanga in yoga class. I find it frequently as I wander through grocery aisles picking up groceries for the week. And sometimes, my mind gets a great rest from the same activities as my body - when I cut myself off from the rest of the world and let go and embrace the rest of my body.
The key, I think, is in not obligating yourself to limit what rest can be. Instead, see it as something relative that depends on the world around you and where you are within it.
Perhaps you're a walking virus receptacle overhauled by a sinus headache that just needs to sleep; or perhaps you're a ball of fun that just needs to bounce somewhere new because the rhythm of the routine is deflating you; or maybe you just want to curl up somewhere and eat a bowl of chili and let the world pass you by. It doesn't matter - you'll find your rest.
Just observe: Has the world just started moving a bit faster and you need to catch up? Or is it you that's slowing down? Figure out your state and then rest up until you can get moving again.
Rest up, y'all!
September 9, 2012
face value (n.)
Last week, I divulged some fatalistic philosophies, about the design behind all we face - in ourselves and our reactions, and in the behaviour of others. (After all, interaction is just a bunch of reactions firing off.) I then briefly concluded that it's important to look for the story and intricacies behind things that are happening in order to appreciate them, even if (especially, if ) they're bad. Finding compassion and understanding helps you react more calmly, get less flustered, and think your reaction through a bit better before you act and set off a negative chain reaction.
Jumping to conclusions is based on expectations. Our expectations can affect our attitude toward ourselves - take for instance in yoga class: How deep we can go into a yoga pose; how long we can hold it
for; how we should look in it, etc. That's why I think that we should look into the design of things to try and understand the motivations behind things that happen (or don't happen); in short, we should be trying to avoid judging things at face value.
Just like we have certain expectations of ourselves, we also have expectations of others. We assume people will act a certain way, and when they don't (or when they do, to our discontent) we often forget that they, too, are dealing with their own challenges, and reactions; the best we can do is not further perpetuate an icky chain reaction by being only concerned with their face value. Don't judge a book by it's cover!
A tension always exists when human beings try to face difficult truths. So, the best we can do when we are faced with a negative vibe from ourselves or someone else is to read it beyond what's simply seen right off the bat (it could be a foul or a home run, a strike or a walk, a hit or a fly ball... Except in life, it's often more than just one of these outcomes!)
Observing the world, every nook and cranny of it, rather than just reacting to it, makes it all the more satisfying to be a part of because we realize that every truth has many faces. Perhaps we'll see that the challenge is just a facade we've created to avoid having to take on new opportunities that may help us to prevail, improve, succeed. It's always easier to just throw a tantrum, freak out, turn into a baby, clench up, etc., etc.
A lot of this thinking has actually been inspired by a show that I religiously watch: America's Next Top Model. (Don't judge me, or it, at face value!) As I watch the girls endlessly battle it out in photoshoots and get all catty with each other in the house, I am reminded that I shouldn't take it at face value - like all TV, it's edited for a certain audience with certain objectives in mind. It isn't a straight-up representation of what went down in the actual competition - duh. But there's another lesson to be learned: The entertainment value of it is still in its face value. Sometimes we just have to be a bit lazy (of body and mind) and coast a bit to enjoy life. Just don't forget to look beyond the shell, the cover, the screen, the face; otherwise you'll get duped into believing a reality that just isn't or doesn't have to be.
 |
| You better believe it there's a book. |
Just like we have certain expectations of ourselves, we also have expectations of others. We assume people will act a certain way, and when they don't (or when they do, to our discontent) we often forget that they, too, are dealing with their own challenges, and reactions; the best we can do is not further perpetuate an icky chain reaction by being only concerned with their face value. Don't judge a book by it's cover!
A tension always exists when human beings try to face difficult truths. So, the best we can do when we are faced with a negative vibe from ourselves or someone else is to read it beyond what's simply seen right off the bat (it could be a foul or a home run, a strike or a walk, a hit or a fly ball... Except in life, it's often more than just one of these outcomes!)
Observing the world, every nook and cranny of it, rather than just reacting to it, makes it all the more satisfying to be a part of because we realize that every truth has many faces. Perhaps we'll see that the challenge is just a facade we've created to avoid having to take on new opportunities that may help us to prevail, improve, succeed. It's always easier to just throw a tantrum, freak out, turn into a baby, clench up, etc., etc.
A lot of this thinking has actually been inspired by a show that I religiously watch: America's Next Top Model. (Don't judge me, or it, at face value!) As I watch the girls endlessly battle it out in photoshoots and get all catty with each other in the house, I am reminded that I shouldn't take it at face value - like all TV, it's edited for a certain audience with certain objectives in mind. It isn't a straight-up representation of what went down in the actual competition - duh. But there's another lesson to be learned: The entertainment value of it is still in its face value. Sometimes we just have to be a bit lazy (of body and mind) and coast a bit to enjoy life. Just don't forget to look beyond the shell, the cover, the screen, the face; otherwise you'll get duped into believing a reality that just isn't or doesn't have to be.
September 4, 2012
design (n.)
I've spent some time navigating design files, designing logos and creating marketing materials for my job. Daily, however, I'm also exposed to design in a different way - a more holistic approach to design perhaps - the design that informs and guides our behaviour.
I've long been thinking about this sort of thing. For months I've observed my own reactions to various asanas in yoga class, which are very much a result of how I'm feeling about other things rather than the postures themselves. Every class, the teacher tells us to breathe through these "difficult" moments, these places of tension, rather than around them.
I've indulged in the convenient thinking that it's important to face challenges like difficult yoga poses dead on without being distracted by what else is going outside them. On certain days, I'll sweat through the difficulty without really observing what my breath is really all about, how it guides my thoughts about my movements and reactions, and how the challenge itself is really something I perceive as difficult rather than something that actually is physically challenging. It's often more of a mental block than a physical one.
This all leads me to a general inspiration I've had lately, to look for the design behind the seemingly obvious, immediate, and simple. With a dose of compassion and a willingness to see more than what just appears in front of us, I think we can really better our lives and ourselves - and hence, those around us. If I'm finding a certain pose challenging, that I generally think should be easy, it may be a result of something else - extra stress I'm dealing with, a lack of sleep or food, my mind wandering off elsewhere because something is keeping me from focusing on the pose.... once I become aware of these things, expectations seem to fall away and the challenge becomes easier to face and breathe through.
There is a design around us, embedded deep, and the more we observe it and try to understand it, the better we'll be able to live with difficult factors and variables. In fact, I think that every challenge is an opportunity to test yourself, as it is a reminder that the design is there - that by listening to it, you'll strive for unity with it - and so even the ugliest and most difficult things in life will align with your rhythm and you'll better embrace them.
(Can you tell I've been reading The Alchemist - which has completely validated a lot of my "listen to the universe" philosophies.)
I've long been thinking about this sort of thing. For months I've observed my own reactions to various asanas in yoga class, which are very much a result of how I'm feeling about other things rather than the postures themselves. Every class, the teacher tells us to breathe through these "difficult" moments, these places of tension, rather than around them.I've indulged in the convenient thinking that it's important to face challenges like difficult yoga poses dead on without being distracted by what else is going outside them. On certain days, I'll sweat through the difficulty without really observing what my breath is really all about, how it guides my thoughts about my movements and reactions, and how the challenge itself is really something I perceive as difficult rather than something that actually is physically challenging. It's often more of a mental block than a physical one.
This all leads me to a general inspiration I've had lately, to look for the design behind the seemingly obvious, immediate, and simple. With a dose of compassion and a willingness to see more than what just appears in front of us, I think we can really better our lives and ourselves - and hence, those around us. If I'm finding a certain pose challenging, that I generally think should be easy, it may be a result of something else - extra stress I'm dealing with, a lack of sleep or food, my mind wandering off elsewhere because something is keeping me from focusing on the pose.... once I become aware of these things, expectations seem to fall away and the challenge becomes easier to face and breathe through.
There is a design around us, embedded deep, and the more we observe it and try to understand it, the better we'll be able to live with difficult factors and variables. In fact, I think that every challenge is an opportunity to test yourself, as it is a reminder that the design is there - that by listening to it, you'll strive for unity with it - and so even the ugliest and most difficult things in life will align with your rhythm and you'll better embrace them.
(Can you tell I've been reading The Alchemist - which has completely validated a lot of my "listen to the universe" philosophies.)
March 21, 2012
nugget (n.)
So lately, with this cleanse I was on, I've become mildly addicted to baby carrots. As I was sitting at work yesterday, munching away, I came across this:
A nugget, is what one coworker referred to it as. I instantly thought of tater tots and timbits (yes, all yummy carb-loaded foods, hinting at my junk-depraved, detoxed self!)
In either case, it got me thinking about nuggets - not deep-fried, chicken or gold. I'm talking nuggets of time, the nuggets in our lives - those tiny moments and aspects of our everyday that can really add up to quite a bit more than they seem. (The nugget was fun to eat, that's for sure.)
Sometimes, like many of us, we can fall into habit, working the 9 to 5, going through the motions of the everyday routine, that we grow accustomed to it and forget to be grateful for the little things that make up that time. The day is filled (or can be filled) with real nuggets that can knock a boring perspective out and bring in a fresher one. It's really easy to get a case of the it's-greener-on-the-other-side after getting used to something, however great.
I'm finally nearing the end of the school semester.. and will soon be entering the "work zone". The year will no longer end in May and start in September. And when that fine day comes at the end of April, when I submit my thesis and all the grades for the courses I'm TAing for, I'll be starting full-time work. Before that happens, I want to indulge in the joys of my varied schedule and my 4-day week. But I also want to reflect on all the great things I'm looking forward to when I start working for a salary. I'm doing this, lest I forget 6 months from now, how excited I am for my change of pace.
Before novelty becomes habit, I want to make sure I will always remember to take a sweet little bite out of the nuggets that make up my life, regardless of what time I'm waking up, how much money I'm making, how late into the night I'm working to make a deadline, etc.
So, there you have it folks: my nugget list*
* This definitely is an incomplete list...an exercise to recognize the beautiful things in my life, of which there are more I'm sure...
And just before I sign off, a couple more weird pictures of my deformed carrot friend:
A nugget, is what one coworker referred to it as. I instantly thought of tater tots and timbits (yes, all yummy carb-loaded foods, hinting at my junk-depraved, detoxed self!)
In either case, it got me thinking about nuggets - not deep-fried, chicken or gold. I'm talking nuggets of time, the nuggets in our lives - those tiny moments and aspects of our everyday that can really add up to quite a bit more than they seem. (The nugget was fun to eat, that's for sure.)
Sometimes, like many of us, we can fall into habit, working the 9 to 5, going through the motions of the everyday routine, that we grow accustomed to it and forget to be grateful for the little things that make up that time. The day is filled (or can be filled) with real nuggets that can knock a boring perspective out and bring in a fresher one. It's really easy to get a case of the it's-greener-on-the-other-side after getting used to something, however great.
I'm finally nearing the end of the school semester.. and will soon be entering the "work zone". The year will no longer end in May and start in September. And when that fine day comes at the end of April, when I submit my thesis and all the grades for the courses I'm TAing for, I'll be starting full-time work. Before that happens, I want to indulge in the joys of my varied schedule and my 4-day week. But I also want to reflect on all the great things I'm looking forward to when I start working for a salary. I'm doing this, lest I forget 6 months from now, how excited I am for my change of pace.
Before novelty becomes habit, I want to make sure I will always remember to take a sweet little bite out of the nuggets that make up my life, regardless of what time I'm waking up, how much money I'm making, how late into the night I'm working to make a deadline, etc.
So, there you have it folks: my nugget list*
- The feeling I get in shavasana after sweating it out in yoga class, my body hot, tired and oh so happy.
It's naturally sweet! - Walking home from work on a Friday evening in late spring, looking forward to the dinner plans I have.
- The taste of that first Americano after a two-week cleanse...or just in general :)
- Laying in the sun in the summer on a weekday, because the day is just so long.
- Getting together with my lady friends and laughing my butt off with them as we drink wine and eat sushi or hot pot or cake or...
- Sitting down at the Naam or some equally yummy establishment with my ma after a long Saturday morning walk.
- The feeling of the warm wind in my face while rollerblading with Ben around the seawall.
- The smell of Bengal spice tea while I catch up on my favourite shows late into the night, exhausted after a yoga class.
- Morning cuddles when you don't have to get up. Even if it's by yourself wrapped in a comfy duvet :)
- The smell of baking at home during the holidays and eating all the extra batter off the bowls with my mom.
- Finding a really great piece of clothing, on a massive sale, andbuying it within minutes without fuss.
- That first sip of beer in the village after a long day ofsnowboarding where I'm still warm and tired.. followed by a greasy beef burger and fries.
- The feeling I get when I read something I've written and I actually really like it.
Always get the poppy-seed dressing, though. - The dinner portion of random date nights with Ben that we don't really plan, where we just wind up hopping between places to have drinks/appies/dinner/dessert to drag out our meal.
- Boarding a plane.
- Watching the geese at Granville Island after not having been there for a long time.
- The moment I look up from my work and out the window of my favourite coffee shop. [Bojangles, Brioche...]
- Feeling how sweaty my pants are (lol) after a super night of dancing where I hit the right buzz the whole night and came home sober.
- The moment we hit the highway to start off a road trip.
- The smell of a salty sunscreen-y bathing suit.
- Putting lotion on my skin after a long day at the beach.
- Being out on the town after a very productive day.
It sure is beautiful - Waking up to the smell of crepes in the morning.
- Finding a letter or postcard in the mail.
- Picking up drinks on my way to watching the hockey game at a friend's place - and realizing it's still light out.
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| Bojangles cafe |
* This definitely is an incomplete list...an exercise to recognize the beautiful things in my life, of which there are more I'm sure...
And just before I sign off, a couple more weird pictures of my deformed carrot friend:
March 13, 2012
make up (n., v.)
I don't have a particularly messy apartment. So when it comes to spring cleaning, for me it's really about 2 things:
1. Getting rid of stuff I don't need.
2. Cleaning myself up. That means: revamping my diet so it's healthier, becoming more active, and generally drinking loads of water, vitamin C, and echinacea and garlic so that I stay immune to everything that's in the fine spring air.
This year, I've decided to take my spring cleaning to a new level by merging 1 and 2: Rather than purely going on my cleanse, I've decided to also get rid of something that we, ladies, really don't need: make up.
Today, I'm on day #3 and I'm feeling cleaner already. I must also add that it ain't all that bad. My eyes are a little sleepy as there isn't any mascara to stretch my lashes open (+ I'm not drinking coffee...) but otherwise, I'm feeling alright - if not, the same. It's also very refreshing to be able to come out of a yoga class without raccoon eyes.
I'm hoping that by doing this, I'll get to reflect a little about what I'm really made of, both literally and figuratively speaking. It's kind of like an ego detox of some sort, I guess. Plus, it cuts down my morning routine by a whole 5 minutes!
Of course, I know that I'll be returning to my regular 'programming' within a couple of weeks. This is a spring cleaning challenge and not a life-altering decision after all. This isn't about principles or making a stance on what beauty is; rather, it's a challenge to be a little more real, consume a little more of what's real, and feel like I'm not a made up version of myself.
I'll be back to mascara and blush soon enough (and heck, I'm not really a cosmetics junkie anyway), but I think I'll feel more beautiful then, despite the make up.
Happy cleaning!
1. Getting rid of stuff I don't need.
2. Cleaning myself up. That means: revamping my diet so it's healthier, becoming more active, and generally drinking loads of water, vitamin C, and echinacea and garlic so that I stay immune to everything that's in the fine spring air.
This year, I've decided to take my spring cleaning to a new level by merging 1 and 2: Rather than purely going on my cleanse, I've decided to also get rid of something that we, ladies, really don't need: make up.
Today, I'm on day #3 and I'm feeling cleaner already. I must also add that it ain't all that bad. My eyes are a little sleepy as there isn't any mascara to stretch my lashes open (+ I'm not drinking coffee...) but otherwise, I'm feeling alright - if not, the same. It's also very refreshing to be able to come out of a yoga class without raccoon eyes.
Of course, I know that I'll be returning to my regular 'programming' within a couple of weeks. This is a spring cleaning challenge and not a life-altering decision after all. This isn't about principles or making a stance on what beauty is; rather, it's a challenge to be a little more real, consume a little more of what's real, and feel like I'm not a made up version of myself.
I'll be back to mascara and blush soon enough (and heck, I'm not really a cosmetics junkie anyway), but I think I'll feel more beautiful then, despite the make up.
Happy cleaning!
February 15, 2012
professing (v.)
Since last September, I've had a position with the university as a Teaching Assistant for a couple of undergraduate courses. This got me thinking about what teaching is all about. As a recent graduate (and current MPub student), I've known I was taught all my life by others. However, all this teaching business over the last four months has me considering what it means to be on the other side of the equation.
The classes I teach in particular are 300-level publishing and design seminars. One is taught in a computer lab where I offer a weekly abundance of design critiques. In the other, I'm namely a facilitator and overseer of student projects.
All this emphasis on guidance, feedback, collaboration, and discussion has helped me conclude that the line between student and teacher is much thinner than we may realize. (I'm sure, however, Aristotle or some equally inspiring Greek teacher has said the same.)
I'm reminded that learning should always be present regardless of role. Being an expert in something or knowing more than someone else does not make you capable of teaching.
If you don't learn about what your students need, you just can't get through to them - and if you don't let them teach you something every now and then, you won't be the best teacher you can be in the long run. (You probably won't be the best expert, either.)
As with many things in my life, it all conceivably comes back to yoga. And food.
Having taken yoga classes for years now, I've learned a lot from my teachers. One thing that stands out (and it isn't 'how to hold a killer asana') is how significant it is to be our own teacher.
The ability to prepare for a challenge and overcome it (perhaps a neat definition of what it is to learn) comes from within - half of the equation is you.
I can listen to prompts from my yoga mat, watch demos, and memorize sutras; but without a willingness to also learn from myself, I profess, I'll learn little of what I set out to. Our willingness to learn and our willingness to teach are kind of one and the same. By recognizing this ebb and flow, I think we'd all be better teachers and students - of ourselves and each other.
It's tough admitting we're always students - if anything, of our own teaching. It's a constant reminder that there's more to learn (about the world and ourselves) and that enough is never enough. However, good teachers also know this, because they face the same difficulty.
We, as students, should be taught the ingredients, the tools and the techniques - what we cook up is up to us. And to continue with this yummy metaphor, as teachers, we should also learn that there are many different tastes.
So, here's to breaking down the dichotomy of teacher and student. If you are taking part in learning (and not everyone does so consciously), I hope you get your fill by being an avid teacher.
All this emphasis on guidance, feedback, collaboration, and discussion has helped me conclude that the line between student and teacher is much thinner than we may realize. (I'm sure, however, Aristotle or some equally inspiring Greek teacher has said the same.)
I'm reminded that learning should always be present regardless of role. Being an expert in something or knowing more than someone else does not make you capable of teaching.
If you don't learn about what your students need, you just can't get through to them - and if you don't let them teach you something every now and then, you won't be the best teacher you can be in the long run. (You probably won't be the best expert, either.)
As with many things in my life, it all conceivably comes back to yoga. And food.
Having taken yoga classes for years now, I've learned a lot from my teachers. One thing that stands out (and it isn't 'how to hold a killer asana') is how significant it is to be our own teacher.The ability to prepare for a challenge and overcome it (perhaps a neat definition of what it is to learn) comes from within - half of the equation is you.
I can listen to prompts from my yoga mat, watch demos, and memorize sutras; but without a willingness to also learn from myself, I profess, I'll learn little of what I set out to. Our willingness to learn and our willingness to teach are kind of one and the same. By recognizing this ebb and flow, I think we'd all be better teachers and students - of ourselves and each other.
It's tough admitting we're always students - if anything, of our own teaching. It's a constant reminder that there's more to learn (about the world and ourselves) and that enough is never enough. However, good teachers also know this, because they face the same difficulty.
So, here's to breaking down the dichotomy of teacher and student. If you are taking part in learning (and not everyone does so consciously), I hope you get your fill by being an avid teacher.
March 25, 2011
hangry (adj.)
Today I was a busy bee. Off I went to school this morning, then caught a dentist appointment around lunch, and whilst waiting for my fluoride to set into my teeth, starved my poor self putting together scholarship applications. Then, I had a very productive meeting with my lovely MPub tech group (Rabbit Hole Marketing!) and our professor, while chowing down on some lentils. After a couple of hours of that, I sat in my swivel chair working on my first digital portfolio, then ran off to a yoga class as part of my #YYoga30DayChallenge. Busy busy bee!
I must share with you that whenever I use that phrase, I am reminded of "Busy Bee Cleaners" - an establishment I drove by twice, every single day for an entire decade. Every morning, as I drove up Granville Street from 70th Avenue on my way to grade 4 (or grade what have you), I'd see Busy Bee Cleaners - a little white boxy building, in the far corner of the little strip of stores next to the Korean noodle place, looking grungy and dusty and packed.
For some reason, the name stuck; and today, I thought of myself as this crazy lil bee flying around doing way too much, not eating enough, with piles and piles of laundry to do!
Apart from feeling like a busy bee, however, I also felt HUNGRY. After yoga, I had what I call, "yoga-head". I temporarily felt fine - until, of course, my boyfriend came over and I decided to become irritable and annoyed at almost everything he said.
So, today: my entry is dedicated to Ben. I'm sorry for getting so hangry. I hope that, next time, you force feed me before we truly interact. Then you'll get some more honey, and less stinger.
(p.s. He's accepted my apology. We're having a splash of scotch with our friend Aaron right now - he cooks up a meaaannnnn stir-fry! Thanks, Aaron!)
[I would really, really appreciate some feedback on my portfolio, too. Any comments are welcome, and will be taken to heart! Thanks!]
I must share with you that whenever I use that phrase, I am reminded of "Busy Bee Cleaners" - an establishment I drove by twice, every single day for an entire decade. Every morning, as I drove up Granville Street from 70th Avenue on my way to grade 4 (or grade what have you), I'd see Busy Bee Cleaners - a little white boxy building, in the far corner of the little strip of stores next to the Korean noodle place, looking grungy and dusty and packed.For some reason, the name stuck; and today, I thought of myself as this crazy lil bee flying around doing way too much, not eating enough, with piles and piles of laundry to do!
Apart from feeling like a busy bee, however, I also felt HUNGRY. After yoga, I had what I call, "yoga-head". I temporarily felt fine - until, of course, my boyfriend came over and I decided to become irritable and annoyed at almost everything he said.
So, today: my entry is dedicated to Ben. I'm sorry for getting so hangry. I hope that, next time, you force feed me before we truly interact. Then you'll get some more honey, and less stinger.
(p.s. He's accepted my apology. We're having a splash of scotch with our friend Aaron right now - he cooks up a meaaannnnn stir-fry! Thanks, Aaron!)
[I would really, really appreciate some feedback on my portfolio, too. Any comments are welcome, and will be taken to heart! Thanks!]
March 21, 2011
cadaver (n.)
One of the most nauseating words in the English language: It's too big a hit of reality, that medical term reminding us of what we will all one day be. (And it's even worse than "corpse", because, somehow, it sounds more dead than dead).
This word came up this weekend, in (ironic) congruence with:
Purim: one of the most joyous holidays on the Jewish calendar, when people dress up costumes and are encouraged to get drunk to commemorate a time when the Jewish people living in Persia were saved from execution.
I ran into some of my Med school friends at a Purim party this weekend. It brought up a memory of our chats about "Cadaver Fridays". Last term, every Friday, my friends' Anatomy class would get really "hands on". All joking aside though, (and with utmost care and gratitude to those who offer their bodies to science), I was deeply struck by those who can deal with that word in their everyday life. I get the heebee jeebees just thinking about it. It's just so much easier to stomach rainbows and posies and just plain being alive.
In the spirit of this mentality, I began to think: yoga - "absorption", "contemplation", "union", "control".
I'm still on my #YYoga30DayChallenge (day 20, and boy are my hips open). I've learned a lot in the last few weeks. By no means, was my goal to to try and comprehend the complete principles of Hinduism, or fully experience drishti by way of yogic mantras and teachings. Completing the challenge is a way for me to motivate myself to hold a handstand, learn to use my body more fully, and stabilize my thoughts so that I can control my feelings and generally become a more pleasant person (and we could all use a few more of those).
What I have come to find is that I'm introducing myself to a bit more than just handstands, breathing exercises, and the splits.
Coincidentally (or not), in my Anusara and Power classes this weekend, we came across the idea of death - on two occasions. The first happened while we were holding the third of our three consecutive sets of dolphin plank after some killer warrior poses (that make me feel unfit for battle).
Full of burning pain, my teacher mentioned, tapas, the Sanskrit word for "heat" - a heat only available to us when we are alive; a heat that pains you, but without which one fails to grow. In my own interpretation, tapas is the burning you need to feel in order to shed away the bad so that a better self can surface. It also makes you feel like you're dying a little bit (or a lot). (But it also makes you feel alive.)
During another class this weekend, another time when the thirty of us were sprawled on our mats in deep lunges, shaking with sweat and trying to control our breathing while "dying a little bit", our teacher wisely commented on death once more: The more we die while we're alive, the less we'll die when the time truly comes (or something close to that).
However weird this may sound to some (or even absurd), it resonated with me. It resonated so far that I remembered it after I was four beers deep, talking with my future MD buddies on the dance floor. I was dressed like a quasi-belly-dancer, a giraffe was nearby, as was Castro, Mary Antoinette and a couple of jelly fish.
The thought of ever being just a body is a scary thing and I think we should all try to partake in the joy of our ability to daily defeat death. We may die just a little bit every day; some days it may feel like we died a little bit more; but if we conduct ourselves in such a way that every pain leaves us with a burning sensation of what it is to be alive, we may get to feel the benefits of that endorphin rush of tapas, our daily dose of reality that may better our lives and increase our daily wellbeing. Pain can serve as a reminder that we are so much more than mere bodies, that we are bodies with minds that enable us to move beyond pain and on to better things.
We're human, able to move, think, and speak, and if we use all three in tandem and with good intention, we will be that much more capable of sharing compassion through positive thought and that much less prone to acting out based on our limitations, whether physical or moral. In a way then, maybe we'll be less scared of that ugly word, and more concerned with whether our thoughts are alive with purpose and good will.
How easily contentment arrives when we defeat the ominous, the scary.
This word came up this weekend, in (ironic) congruence with:
Purim: one of the most joyous holidays on the Jewish calendar, when people dress up costumes and are encouraged to get drunk to commemorate a time when the Jewish people living in Persia were saved from execution.
I ran into some of my Med school friends at a Purim party this weekend. It brought up a memory of our chats about "Cadaver Fridays". Last term, every Friday, my friends' Anatomy class would get really "hands on". All joking aside though, (and with utmost care and gratitude to those who offer their bodies to science), I was deeply struck by those who can deal with that word in their everyday life. I get the heebee jeebees just thinking about it. It's just so much easier to stomach rainbows and posies and just plain being alive.
In the spirit of this mentality, I began to think: yoga - "absorption", "contemplation", "union", "control".
I'm still on my #YYoga30DayChallenge (day 20, and boy are my hips open). I've learned a lot in the last few weeks. By no means, was my goal to to try and comprehend the complete principles of Hinduism, or fully experience drishti by way of yogic mantras and teachings. Completing the challenge is a way for me to motivate myself to hold a handstand, learn to use my body more fully, and stabilize my thoughts so that I can control my feelings and generally become a more pleasant person (and we could all use a few more of those).
What I have come to find is that I'm introducing myself to a bit more than just handstands, breathing exercises, and the splits.
Coincidentally (or not), in my Anusara and Power classes this weekend, we came across the idea of death - on two occasions. The first happened while we were holding the third of our three consecutive sets of dolphin plank after some killer warrior poses (that make me feel unfit for battle).
 |
| Tapas, anyone? (I'm serious. You could probable use this as your mandala) |
During another class this weekend, another time when the thirty of us were sprawled on our mats in deep lunges, shaking with sweat and trying to control our breathing while "dying a little bit", our teacher wisely commented on death once more: The more we die while we're alive, the less we'll die when the time truly comes (or something close to that).
However weird this may sound to some (or even absurd), it resonated with me. It resonated so far that I remembered it after I was four beers deep, talking with my future MD buddies on the dance floor. I was dressed like a quasi-belly-dancer, a giraffe was nearby, as was Castro, Mary Antoinette and a couple of jelly fish.
 |
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery. Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell; And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. ~John Donne |
We're human, able to move, think, and speak, and if we use all three in tandem and with good intention, we will be that much more capable of sharing compassion through positive thought and that much less prone to acting out based on our limitations, whether physical or moral. In a way then, maybe we'll be less scared of that ugly word, and more concerned with whether our thoughts are alive with purpose and good will.
How easily contentment arrives when we defeat the ominous, the scary.
March 7, 2011
buck up (vb.)
So, in light of a previous "promise" I made - to make a list of goals, a "bucket list", if you will: It's nowhere near complete, but I did give it my best. I bucked up, took heart, gained courage, grabbed a pen (and now my Macbook) and went for it.
In the process, I discovered just how eerily difficult it is to give dreams physicality.
Also, since this experience of mine was really mind-opening and unsettling and exciting and daunting and energizing and inspiring and exhausting and refreshing and mind-blowing (for me), I figured I'd share it with you as it may be fun for you all to read something with an objective eye.
I present to you, A Bucket List: the visual edition.
1. Master the art of contentment.
2. Always find time and a space to practice yoga, however old I get.
3. Have a job that allows me to at least sometimes work from home.
4. Visit an ashram for some relatively extended period of time.
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| (yah, i know.) |
5. Go scuba diving
6. Decorate some future kitchen of mine with plaid tablecloths and curtains and other cheesy country style stuff. (and always have a huge bowl of fruit at the table.)
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| (Actually, anything in plaid will do!) |
7. Own my own home so that I can one day look back at carpet stains and cracked tiles, remember stuff, and get nostalgic.
8. Go on a yoga retreat
9. Take a guitar lesson or five
10. Learn how to sing
11. Take my future children to "the old country"
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| (Mostly so they can eat the best meat on the planet.) |
12. Visit Israel again. and again
13. Learn to get by in another language other than Serbo-Croatian
14. Write a book..a memoir....
15. Teach English in Asia
16. Have lifelong companionship
17. Paint a few wall-worthy paintings; take a few frame-worthy photographs
18. Host dinner parties
19. Learn how to sew on a sewing machine
20. Take good care of my family, especially my parents
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March 3, 2011
goal (n.)
Having begun a yoga challenge two days ago (I know, inspiration comes fast!), it's made me reflect on other ways I've challenged myself this year.
I've always been a lover of lists, as most people who know me personally know. I write 'to do' lists all the time, especially before bedtime when I feel I need to get it all out of my head so I can truly unwind and have a good night's sleep. At the risk of sounding really OCD, I'll divulge: I'll place anything from important things like "meeting with x at y:yy pm" to trivialities I can't imagine I'd forget to do (like "shower" and "watch The Office). Ha. But, to each their own, and for me it works.
Though seemingly a bad thing, I sometimes remind myself of Hugh Grant's character, Will, in About a Boy, who compartmentalizes his life into units. Except, unlike Will, it all does mean a lot, and making my lists, though not endowed with meaning themselves, help me appreciate the great things I get to do in my life every day, which make me feel and be a better, more capable person.
I also have 'wish lists' (really, shopping lists), which come in handy because they help me "keep track" (yuck) of how I can reward myself when I feel I've come to deserve it. I also prefer "wish" over "shopping" because they're things I'd like to have one day, and not things I must purchase on an errand day. It reminds me I can do without but that I also deserve sometimes to do with.
I also have 'pros and cons' lists, which I'll jot down every now and then to help me make a decision. If I'm feeling ungrateful or a but murky or overwhelmed, I'll also turn these pros and cons into those relating to my life in order to give me some perspective.
But, all in all, the most important list is probably one I've never given physical presence: a list of goals, however big or small, that shape what I'd like to do with my life.
This brings me to "goal" - my word, today (notice it's not "list"). I particularily like it because it has the word go in it. It's active, motivating, conscious, and present. It's about time I gave it form.
This list is not one to just be casually jotted down with a bunch of boxes next to each point. It's of course subject to change, but I need to think about it a little (or a lot more).
Stay tuned.
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| "My life is made up of units of time. Buying CDs - two units. Eating lunch - three units. Exercising - two units. All in all, I had a very full life...." |
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| I am not an island! And I will never hold a baby like this! |
Though seemingly a bad thing, I sometimes remind myself of Hugh Grant's character, Will, in About a Boy, who compartmentalizes his life into units. Except, unlike Will, it all does mean a lot, and making my lists, though not endowed with meaning themselves, help me appreciate the great things I get to do in my life every day, which make me feel and be a better, more capable person.
I also have 'wish lists' (really, shopping lists), which come in handy because they help me "keep track" (yuck) of how I can reward myself when I feel I've come to deserve it. I also prefer "wish" over "shopping" because they're things I'd like to have one day, and not things I must purchase on an errand day. It reminds me I can do without but that I also deserve sometimes to do with.
I also have 'pros and cons' lists, which I'll jot down every now and then to help me make a decision. If I'm feeling ungrateful or a but murky or overwhelmed, I'll also turn these pros and cons into those relating to my life in order to give me some perspective.
But, all in all, the most important list is probably one I've never given physical presence: a list of goals, however big or small, that shape what I'd like to do with my life.
This brings me to "goal" - my word, today (notice it's not "list"). I particularily like it because it has the word go in it. It's active, motivating, conscious, and present. It's about time I gave it form.
This list is not one to just be casually jotted down with a bunch of boxes next to each point. It's of course subject to change, but I need to think about it a little (or a lot more).
Stay tuned.
March 2, 2011
challenge (n.)
Yesterday, I started a 30-day yoga challenge at my favourite Yoga studio in Vancouver: YYoga in Yaletown. While I'm definitely tooting the studio's horn - and I really genuinely want people to come out and try it - this month, I initially felt a little bit differently about spreading word about "my" little secret hideaway on Homer.
But, I've changed my mind! To infinity, and beyond!
I've had an unlimited yoga pass at the studio since September, going about 3-5 times a week.
"My kind" of classes are hot and power classes.
I like breaking a sweat rather than delving so deeply into yin stretches that I fall asleep; anusara also doesn't always do it for me because it asks my heart to be active more than my mind - and the reason I started yoga was to stabilize my though process, ease my nerves and stress, and wield the physical that controls my life. (Of course, after 30 days of yoga, I may start to feel differently.)
Anyway- I digress.
.
March happens to be a "challenge" month at YYoga; the challenge is to go to 30 yoga classes in 30 days. While I'm always up for a challenge, I initially had a couple of anti-yogic thoughts that threw me out of zen (I threw myself back in eventually):
.
1. Is yoga an errand that I must do daily to "succeed"? I like to feel it's part of my lifestyle, rather than a list of 30 boxes that I must check off to feel I've accomplished something to prove I didn't let myself down. The whole point of yoga is that it is not a quantifiable competition - and not really even with yourself. It's a way of being with, and in, and within yourself, on a daily basis - yes; but, on and off the mat.
.
and
.
After having these ineffective thoughts about what I feel is kind of marketing ploy to increase membership - I thought: so what if it is!
I'm thinking about it wro ng.I'm thinking about it wrong.
People should join yoga - and the more the merrier. The group energy is wonderful. You meet people who are doing the challenge too, and you support each other along the way as you start to feel like a sore, flexy, yoga robot, dragging your mat around with you, instantly aware of when your feet go wider than hip-distance (even while brushing your teeth...naw).
Showing up (in class and in life!) is always a challenge, and to submit to a consistent practice has its benefits: You get the opportunity to show up to class despite what your mind tells you. You also get to knock your body into shape - and eventually your mind follows too.
If yoga has taught me anything, it's that the attitude you bring to the mat ("and beyond!") trumps everything else. Understanding that may be the biggest challenge of all.
So, here I go, Day 1 behind me, looking forward to the next 29, starting with today (everyday) - come hell or high water.
But, I've changed my mind! To infinity, and beyond!
I've had an unlimited yoga pass at the studio since September, going about 3-5 times a week.
"My kind" of classes are hot and power classes.
I like breaking a sweat rather than delving so deeply into yin stretches that I fall asleep; anusara also doesn't always do it for me because it asks my heart to be active more than my mind - and the reason I started yoga was to stabilize my though process, ease my nerves and stress, and wield the physical that controls my life. (Of course, after 30 days of yoga, I may start to feel differently.)
Anyway- I digress.
.
 |
| low lunge |
.
1. Is yoga an errand that I must do daily to "succeed"? I like to feel it's part of my lifestyle, rather than a list of 30 boxes that I must check off to feel I've accomplished something to prove I didn't let myself down. The whole point of yoga is that it is not a quantifiable competition - and not really even with yourself. It's a way of being with, and in, and within yourself, on a daily basis - yes; but, on and off the mat.
.
 | |
| warrior 1 |
.
2. The studio gets so damn busy. Everyone takes advantage of the deal and before you know it, March means that changing-rooms get super crowded; you have to dash to find a hook for your jacket, show up extra early to snag your third-favourite spot, and start to notice some people totally getting into a frenzy about landing an early shower slot so they can go home earlier than everyone else. Totally not in yoga spirit, and not the best energy to be around..
After having these ineffective thoughts about what I feel is kind of marketing ploy to increase membership - I thought: so what if it is!
I'm thinking about it wro ng.I'm thinking about it wrong.
People should join yoga - and the more the merrier. The group energy is wonderful. You meet people who are doing the challenge too, and you support each other along the way as you start to feel like a sore, flexy, yoga robot, dragging your mat around with you, instantly aware of when your feet go wider than hip-distance (even while brushing your teeth...naw).
 | |
| mountain pose. |
Showing up (in class and in life!) is always a challenge, and to submit to a consistent practice has its benefits: You get the opportunity to show up to class despite what your mind tells you. You also get to knock your body into shape - and eventually your mind follows too.
If yoga has taught me anything, it's that the attitude you bring to the mat ("and beyond!") trumps everything else. Understanding that may be the biggest challenge of all.
So, here I go, Day 1 behind me, looking forward to the next 29, starting with today (everyday) - come hell or high water.
January 4, 2011
yo-gah (v.)
Today I did a pretty epic thing - at least for myself.
After a fabulous new year's celebration (Happy 2011 to you all!)....
I started Day #1 of my vegan cleanse and did TWO power classes a YYoga, back to back. I ate Brazil nuts and dried apricots in between, sipping on some great ginseng/ginger tea with a friend while we waited for our sweat to dry from the previous 75 minutes and prepared for the intermediate level class.
What's interesting though, is that with a smile and a friend in tow, it really wasn't all that bad - even after my December hiatus (eggnog, rum, and couch potato-ing in lieu of yoga and oatmeal).
I gotta tell ya, this morning I was all about the "YO!"
now I'm feeling more of the "gah".
But it's a good "gah".
It's the feeling of a gigantic loud sigh gusting out of your chest after holding two-legged plank for 6 minutes - or the simple cheer at midnight to commemorate the end of a single year. We humans like cycles and endings, and while we may not understand the phenomenology of the ultimate cycle or our final end, I feel that experiencing little finishes along the way is the universe's gift to us.
Wishing you all the best for the new year - clear away any regrets from last year and let only the goodness of 2010 carry you over! (and keep a friend close!)
cmok! muah!
-Lil Yogi Vish
After a fabulous new year's celebration (Happy 2011 to you all!)....
I started Day #1 of my vegan cleanse and did TWO power classes a YYoga, back to back. I ate Brazil nuts and dried apricots in between, sipping on some great ginseng/ginger tea with a friend while we waited for our sweat to dry from the previous 75 minutes and prepared for the intermediate level class.
What's interesting though, is that with a smile and a friend in tow, it really wasn't all that bad - even after my December hiatus (eggnog, rum, and couch potato-ing in lieu of yoga and oatmeal).
I gotta tell ya, this morning I was all about the "YO!"
now I'm feeling more of the "gah".
But it's a good "gah".
It's the feeling of a gigantic loud sigh gusting out of your chest after holding two-legged plank for 6 minutes - or the simple cheer at midnight to commemorate the end of a single year. We humans like cycles and endings, and while we may not understand the phenomenology of the ultimate cycle or our final end, I feel that experiencing little finishes along the way is the universe's gift to us.
Wishing you all the best for the new year - clear away any regrets from last year and let only the goodness of 2010 carry you over! (and keep a friend close!)
cmok! muah!
-Lil Yogi Vish
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