For the last year and a half I have been exploring the practice of yoga both physically and mentally. As unwanted stress and anxieties flooded my body in a way that prevented me from perceiving and responding to reality in a way that resolved this suffering, I discovered restorative yoga.
Restorative yoga, as well as other forms of yoga, help to trigger the Parasympathetic nervous system (PNS). The PNS is responsible for balancing the body and bringing its response system back into equalibrium. This particular form of yoga has been defined as a supported, conscious body/mind relaxation practice that benefits both the body and mind, for conditions ranging from insomnia to asthma to chronic pain to depression.
As I began this practice, I was having trouble bringing what I had learned in class, into my daily life outside of the studio. Even in class, I was so concentrated on the poses, quieting my breathe, and remainging calm that I would often find myself distracted and overly "alert." I could never just be.
My yoga instructor, Stephanie Mortellaro of "Beyond Center for Yoga and Pilates" in Brockport, NY, lectured on the importance of the mental yogic practices, as well as the physical, and explained to me that one can not operate without the other when attempting to create anandamaya kosa, or the feeling of being "okay."
Michael Stone, a yoga teacher and pyschotherapist who teaches and lectures internationally at conferences and in academic settings harps on exactly Stephanie's advice. In his book,The Innter Tradition of Yoga, he explains this through the definition of the word "Avidyā." Avidyā is the inability to see things or be with things as they are. Stone tells us that "most of the time we are not present or engaged with things as they are, because we are so caught in deep grooves of attachement, aversion, and our stories of self.
This really spoke to me, and in a way echoed what I believe Stephanie was trying to convey. I have trouble seeing things as they are and being accepting of the present moment because of my habitual patterns of attachment and aversion. So often I find myself attached to the past, lost in a cloud of nostalgia, while other times I find myself running away from the anxiety of the present that I avert the pain to the future, resulting in a life lived either two steps behind or two steps ahead.
There is a joke in yoga that Stone shares with his readers that asks, "If you had to hide something that was the most valuable thing you had, where would you hide it?" The answer is: "in the present moment." I exist in the present moment yet I find myself missing the present completely due to a construction of self that averts and attaches to negative feelings.
I have learned the importance in staying with the present feeling, whether positive or negative. Stone tells his readers that while staying with the present feeling requires an attitude of patience and intentional acceptance, especailly when there is physical or emotional pain, this mindful awareness is "non-conceptual, non-judgmental, sometimes nonverbal, and exploratory." In yoga, we call this "tapas." It means to be grounded in reality that is not "apart from." Stone explains that the skill of "grounding" is the activity of feeling what is without plotting escape routes.
After reading Stone's book and reviewing other psychotherapists who explore the practice of yoga, I have found that the yoga I demonstrate in the classroom has found its way into my daily life; that the postures I complete become routes for awareness, and the feelings I have accepted which develop this awareness have influenced my postures and poses inside the classroom.
When I find myself consumed by either aversion or attachement, and feel as though I am succombing to anxiety, I try to remember this:
"When we accept what is in this very moment, without pushing or pulling, when there is no running after or running away, we find in our practice a level of deep acceptance and peace." -Michael Stone
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
What I will miss most about the North East...
1.) Layers for winter. Wool knee socks that peek through my brown leather boots over my softest pair of black cotton leggings; my over-sized chunky sweater from Banana paired with one of my mother's "want-to-snuggle-your-face-up-to-it" scarves patterned with polka dots and checker boards, horizontal stripes and vertical stripes; a crocheted pair of gloves and a comfortably fitting hat with a rainbow of pom poms on top. I will miss the warmth that doesn't come from the sun, but from the comfort of layers that sooth my soul from both the heaviness of the fabrics and the love and memories that have been sewed within them.
2.) Deserted Beaches. Places untouched. When I think about West Palm Beach, I think about tourists. I see mobs of vacationers dragging coolers and umbrellas across the blazing hot sand, sunscreen slopped children holding the hands of mothers toting sacks of beach toys and buckets on their backs, life guards at the ready in bright red one-pieces with safety rafts under their arms and hands over head, and coozies of beer cans held by fathers scrolling their blackberries for e-mails from work. I assume that, like in Bellport, after a period of time as a "Floridian" I will find not only beaches, but little nooks and crannies untouched by tourists, saved and cherished for those who appreciate life unmarked, for those not in search of a getaway but a home.
3.) My accent. Yes. my accent. I realize that most of you are probably wondering how one loses an accent but the truth is, and those of you who know me all too well, know that I have a tendency to acquire different sounds and inflections based on my current city. I grew up "tawking ova cawfee" but by the time I graduated from college in Raaaachester I was "talking over coffee." And now that I am back on Long Island I have combined the two and I am somewhere between "tawking" and "coffee." God only knows what I will be doing over coffee in Florida but if the Long Island, the Rochester, and the Florida accents combine together, I may be on the road to one severe identity crisis!
4.) The Big Apple. The fast paced life brought on by business people on Wall street and millionaires on Park Ave; the Fashion District filled with miles of material for models with legs just as long; or sports fans with baseball caps and hot dogs on the 7 train on their way to Citifield; tourists in search of familial history on Ellis Island, a photograph of the Statue of Liberty while floating down the Hudson or the heart-racing feeling obtained by climbing the Empire State building, all of this powered by subways and buses, trains and taxi's, airports and trams. I'll miss the relatively quiet neighborhoods on the West Side in Chelsea where I spent a couple of summers taking the E train back and forth to my internship on Park; spending sunsets on the High Line, photographing couples holding hands, businessmen with their ties loosened, pregnant women holding their swollen bellies, children impatiently waiting in line on their tip-toes at the gelatto cart...I will miss the feeling of the cold plastic beneath my legs on the subway, the smell of chestnuts roasting on the corner cart in the winter time, the sound of taxis honking and traffic rushing by, and the taste of real New York City pizza with gooey cheese and crispy crust.
5.) My family & My friends.
This list was meant to be short, and to the point, sort of like #5. But I guess #5 is as obvious as it gets, but the others, the others needed explaining. Or at least I thought so...Ha. Look. I'm rambling again.
2.) Deserted Beaches. Places untouched. When I think about West Palm Beach, I think about tourists. I see mobs of vacationers dragging coolers and umbrellas across the blazing hot sand, sunscreen slopped children holding the hands of mothers toting sacks of beach toys and buckets on their backs, life guards at the ready in bright red one-pieces with safety rafts under their arms and hands over head, and coozies of beer cans held by fathers scrolling their blackberries for e-mails from work. I assume that, like in Bellport, after a period of time as a "Floridian" I will find not only beaches, but little nooks and crannies untouched by tourists, saved and cherished for those who appreciate life unmarked, for those not in search of a getaway but a home.
3.) My accent. Yes. my accent. I realize that most of you are probably wondering how one loses an accent but the truth is, and those of you who know me all too well, know that I have a tendency to acquire different sounds and inflections based on my current city. I grew up "tawking ova cawfee" but by the time I graduated from college in Raaaachester I was "talking over coffee." And now that I am back on Long Island I have combined the two and I am somewhere between "tawking" and "coffee." God only knows what I will be doing over coffee in Florida but if the Long Island, the Rochester, and the Florida accents combine together, I may be on the road to one severe identity crisis!
4.) The Big Apple. The fast paced life brought on by business people on Wall street and millionaires on Park Ave; the Fashion District filled with miles of material for models with legs just as long; or sports fans with baseball caps and hot dogs on the 7 train on their way to Citifield; tourists in search of familial history on Ellis Island, a photograph of the Statue of Liberty while floating down the Hudson or the heart-racing feeling obtained by climbing the Empire State building, all of this powered by subways and buses, trains and taxi's, airports and trams. I'll miss the relatively quiet neighborhoods on the West Side in Chelsea where I spent a couple of summers taking the E train back and forth to my internship on Park; spending sunsets on the High Line, photographing couples holding hands, businessmen with their ties loosened, pregnant women holding their swollen bellies, children impatiently waiting in line on their tip-toes at the gelatto cart...I will miss the feeling of the cold plastic beneath my legs on the subway, the smell of chestnuts roasting on the corner cart in the winter time, the sound of taxis honking and traffic rushing by, and the taste of real New York City pizza with gooey cheese and crispy crust.
5.) My family & My friends.
This list was meant to be short, and to the point, sort of like #5. But I guess #5 is as obvious as it gets, but the others, the others needed explaining. Or at least I thought so...Ha. Look. I'm rambling again.
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