Sometimes we forget that the things we worry about each day are impermanent. Then something happens to remind us. The vet called me on Friday to tell me my dog -my big 98 lb. playmate - has lyme disease. It didn't make his day bad. He was just as playful as ever. But it made me sad. He could get sick. We could lose him. Of course, we all know that dogs live a short life compared to us, but this really brought it home. How would my life be different without him? I started to miss him and he was still right next to me.
In those times, it seems that again yoga is helpful. I participated in a kids' yoga workshop this weekend that reminded me of how much I enjoy yoga because it reminds us to live in the moment. There will never be another moment like this one. Kids seem to automatically get that, but as adults we tend to become consumed with the what if question and time just flies by. If you've spent time with a child recently, you know this. They see all sorts of things we completely miss. Kids can make up a game using next to nothing (sorry Toys R Us). Look at the train in the clouds! See how those rocks look like dinosaur eggs! I can get there and back first!
I don't know how many mornings I'll wake up to a lab tongue licking my hand, watch the tail frenzy when the squirrel dares to cross the yard, or hear the bark of joy when the birds take flight. But this I know for sure. I'll never look at a tennis ball the same way again without a huge smile and every playtime now seems very sweet. Living in the moment can bring a lot of joy (and hey, it doesn't cost anything. Free can be great:)
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Trees Don't Move Unless They Grow
The other night while we were roasting marshmallows over the firepit, my little Aristotle (age 9) said, "Trees don't move unless they grow". I thought about this today as I took my first archery lesson. As I stood up for my turn with the bow and the target, it was amazing how quickly all my bad habits came back...I tensed up and held my breath while trying to avoid any "mistakes". Of course, mistakes are part of the learning process...necessary, in fact, to find that balance of the right place for us to be in that moment.
I now know this about myself...although it would have been very useful as a younger person to find out my "default" mode. The beauty of this, however, is that I now know some of what triggers this reaction, to identify it when it occurs, and counteract it. The blessing of getting older is that finding faults now is a plus. I want to know how to "grow". As my beautiful daughter illustrated so eloquently, I can't do that unless I move, change, resist, explore, create and expand. In doing so, I see my fears for what they are - present, but unnatural. In other words, they are not necessary. The necessary fears - don't engage rabid animals, angry people, or other dangerous situations - are helpful. The unnatural fears - don't try something new, you may not be good at it; don't soar when you can coast, it's safer to be unnoticed - go against nature. They limit us in bad ways, creating unnatural boundaries that prevent us from branching out and becoming the souls we were meant to be.
So the next time the younger set says something, stop to consider. Not everything is about cartoons, toys, stuff they want to buy,and food they want to eat. Sometimes their observant way teaches us to see the trees amidst the forest and admire their beauty. In turn, perhaps we will begin in some small way to see that same beauty in others as well as ourselves.
I now know this about myself...although it would have been very useful as a younger person to find out my "default" mode. The beauty of this, however, is that I now know some of what triggers this reaction, to identify it when it occurs, and counteract it. The blessing of getting older is that finding faults now is a plus. I want to know how to "grow". As my beautiful daughter illustrated so eloquently, I can't do that unless I move, change, resist, explore, create and expand. In doing so, I see my fears for what they are - present, but unnatural. In other words, they are not necessary. The necessary fears - don't engage rabid animals, angry people, or other dangerous situations - are helpful. The unnatural fears - don't try something new, you may not be good at it; don't soar when you can coast, it's safer to be unnoticed - go against nature. They limit us in bad ways, creating unnatural boundaries that prevent us from branching out and becoming the souls we were meant to be.
So the next time the younger set says something, stop to consider. Not everything is about cartoons, toys, stuff they want to buy,and food they want to eat. Sometimes their observant way teaches us to see the trees amidst the forest and admire their beauty. In turn, perhaps we will begin in some small way to see that same beauty in others as well as ourselves.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Fight the Chaos or Learn to See the Beauty
As I worked through my newspaper stack this weekend (yes, I am one of the apparently dwindling number who still read the newspaper), I read about a local playwright with 3 young children, whose new work is opening at Arena Stage in Crystal City. In my never-ending quest to understand how other people manage to juggle seemingly conflicting things, I laughed when I read that she "used to fight the chaos a little bit more, but...with the third child...I just gave in to it." This change of heart led to five new plays.
In my own way, I have started down this path. I know my car still carries the odor of weed killer from Home Depot last weekend and my carpeting at times resembles the color of the fur of my black lab, but that is not the whole story. My daughter turned in her state poster on Monday at school, complete with state slogan, interesting fact, state flower, state bird, map and interesting places to visit. We found a fun new water slide for the summer, I filled out my application to work with INOVA cancer patients as a yoga teacher, and I donated some items in my garage to a local rummage sale. That doesn't mean there wasn't chaos: my husband did lock us out of the house just a half hour before we were to leave to take our scheduled karate promotion test, and I did temporarily feel overwhelmed when I thought my daughter's science project was due this Monday instead of next week.
But those were temporary speed bumps. They do not define my day, my week or whether I received a passing grade as mom or business owner or karate student. It does say that I have made choices - and those choices, more often than not, make me happy on my journey. But part of that peace arrived through deliberate thought processes. It is a skill I am still working to cultivate, but I know I have made progress when my daughter's playmate can ask her "Is this black fur on your toys?" and I can smile and think to myself "It is because it was a beautiful day and when I am old I will not remember the toys. I will remember the giggles when my daughter jumped on the trampoline or the shrieks when she slid into the mouth of the water shark on her slide." Sometimes what we need to change is not our activities, but our measuring stick.
In my own way, I have started down this path. I know my car still carries the odor of weed killer from Home Depot last weekend and my carpeting at times resembles the color of the fur of my black lab, but that is not the whole story. My daughter turned in her state poster on Monday at school, complete with state slogan, interesting fact, state flower, state bird, map and interesting places to visit. We found a fun new water slide for the summer, I filled out my application to work with INOVA cancer patients as a yoga teacher, and I donated some items in my garage to a local rummage sale. That doesn't mean there wasn't chaos: my husband did lock us out of the house just a half hour before we were to leave to take our scheduled karate promotion test, and I did temporarily feel overwhelmed when I thought my daughter's science project was due this Monday instead of next week.
But those were temporary speed bumps. They do not define my day, my week or whether I received a passing grade as mom or business owner or karate student. It does say that I have made choices - and those choices, more often than not, make me happy on my journey. But part of that peace arrived through deliberate thought processes. It is a skill I am still working to cultivate, but I know I have made progress when my daughter's playmate can ask her "Is this black fur on your toys?" and I can smile and think to myself "It is because it was a beautiful day and when I am old I will not remember the toys. I will remember the giggles when my daughter jumped on the trampoline or the shrieks when she slid into the mouth of the water shark on her slide." Sometimes what we need to change is not our activities, but our measuring stick.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
No dishwasher - No problem!
This week, my dishwasher broke. The first thought is...no, not another thing on my to do list. I'm full. But it turned out, as things often do if I let them, that it led to another memory - a connection that has left me feeling a little more spring in my step.
I realized, while taking a few more minutes than usual with the dishes at the kitchen sink, why I had insisted that I wanted a window overlooking the back yard in my house. At first, it seemed like a small thing, but just this week I realized why it has an emotional connection for me. My grandmother's house, where I visited for 3 weeks each summer, had a window above her kitchen sink overlooking her yard. In the summer, the breeze would blow in, the shade tree outside made that part of the house cool, and the conversation was sweet - something that still brings a tear to my eye. You see, my grandmother represented love to me - not just familial, you're part of the family love, but unconditional, all-encompassing love and real joy. I didn't feel I needed to fulfill any expectations from her or provide something to her. She was just happy to be with me and she made me feel special. I made her smile and she made me smile. The conversation was just the icing on the cake.
Realizing this brought me something else I hope to bring to my yoga classes. Compassion. While we often discount or minimize preferences or requests from others, we may not realize the emotions tied to that "small thing". My father rose early each Easter morning to buy a fresh corsage for my mother and I to wear to services that morning, and I still smile when I see them. That flower is tied to the emotion I felt when my father did something sweet and tender toward the women in his life. So when someone asks you for something you can give, yet it seems trivial to you, perhaps pause to remember that it may have significant meaning to them - a meaning they may not even be consciously aware of, but a deeply-held emotion nonetheless. Realizing this, perhaps we can extend a little more compassion toward each other, just as a part of our everyday lives.
I realized, while taking a few more minutes than usual with the dishes at the kitchen sink, why I had insisted that I wanted a window overlooking the back yard in my house. At first, it seemed like a small thing, but just this week I realized why it has an emotional connection for me. My grandmother's house, where I visited for 3 weeks each summer, had a window above her kitchen sink overlooking her yard. In the summer, the breeze would blow in, the shade tree outside made that part of the house cool, and the conversation was sweet - something that still brings a tear to my eye. You see, my grandmother represented love to me - not just familial, you're part of the family love, but unconditional, all-encompassing love and real joy. I didn't feel I needed to fulfill any expectations from her or provide something to her. She was just happy to be with me and she made me feel special. I made her smile and she made me smile. The conversation was just the icing on the cake.
Realizing this brought me something else I hope to bring to my yoga classes. Compassion. While we often discount or minimize preferences or requests from others, we may not realize the emotions tied to that "small thing". My father rose early each Easter morning to buy a fresh corsage for my mother and I to wear to services that morning, and I still smile when I see them. That flower is tied to the emotion I felt when my father did something sweet and tender toward the women in his life. So when someone asks you for something you can give, yet it seems trivial to you, perhaps pause to remember that it may have significant meaning to them - a meaning they may not even be consciously aware of, but a deeply-held emotion nonetheless. Realizing this, perhaps we can extend a little more compassion toward each other, just as a part of our everyday lives.
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