On silence

I’ve been quieter than usual this week. And boy, it’s been sweet.

Week Seven of Living Your Moksha has been all about the final pillar - Be Peace. The challenge is to spend an hour a day being quiet, unplugged, and alone with yourself. A challenge indeed for an Internet junkie with a big chatty mouth. That’s me, my dears. I make no assumptions about you.

Silence may be golden but it’s damn difficult. I grew up in a boisterous family. I work in retail. I’m a fast and frequent talker. I think I may have mentioned this before. In any case, even when I’m alone at home, chances are I’ve got my laptop open or the radio on or I’m on my iPhone or I’m chatting to my mum or I’m Skyping a friend or I’m writing an e-mail to someone who needs e-mailing. Few and far between are the moments (let alone hours) where I close all the electronics, close my mouth, and just keep silence.

Even in yoga, which is supposed to be all about serenity and peace, I find ways to be noisy. I’m a loud breather, a sigher, a grunter, a laugher. Those of you who have practised beside me will know what I’m talking about. If someone’s making a silly noise in Pigeon pose, chances are it’s me. And even if by some miracle I’m managing to keep a lid on my audible racket, my mind is constantly jabbering away at me. I’ll be in downward dog and grocery lists start ringing in my ears. I flow forward to high plank and all of a sudden I can’t remember if I turned the stove off. My favourite is savasana to a soundtrack of worries about getting out of yoga in enough time to shower, eat, and get a coffee before work.

So. Much. Noise.

This week in class I’ve been moving a lot slower. Breathing a lot more, and a lot more quietly. Resting frequently. Chilling out. Lying in savasana a couple breaths longer than I normally would. It’s been a challenge, but a rewarding one. I feel way more attuned to the present moment, way less worried about what’s to come. Not to mention I’ve given up my habit of surfing Facebook right before bed in favour of reading. Actually reading. Books. Sheer heaven!

It’s been a heck of a lot quieter in here, and to my immense surprise, I love it.

Re: rest

Good god, time flies.

Week Six. Live to Learn.

I like to think I’m always learning. I come from a theatre background, even thought I wanted to be an actor once upon a time, and all my acting teachers always said that to be an actor is to be a student forever. I’d go a step further and argue that to be a human being is a to be a student forever. That is, if you want to be a good human being.

Still, I’m far from perfect and no matter how open and aware I think I am, and no matter how egoless and gracious I make myself out to be, sometimes the universe just dumps me on my ass, and I am reminded what it really means to learn something new.

I hurt myself this week. My left hip twinges when I walk and the pain has started radiating through my groin and the top of my hamstring. I didn’t wrench it or pull it to the best of my knowledge, I’ve just been pushing myself too hard. Remember how I promised at the beginning of this challenge that I wasn’t going to run myself into the ground? Well, folks, it’s time to call a spade a spade. My body has been asking for a rest, and I haven’t been listening. So now it’s asking a lot louder, and it’s time for me to pull my head out of the sand and give it what it wants. Hence, a day away from the studio.

Tea. Tunes. Reading. Writing. Fridge magnet poetry. Icing my butt. Rolling my hip flexor on this weird green ball thing that a friend of mine from work gave me. (He swears it will help. I hope he’s right.) Planning my summer. Revamping my goals.

It’s all yoga.

Lesson learned.

Thanks, universe.

The attitude of gratitude

It’s late and dark and the streetlights are humming and the air is still cold enough to make me question whether summer is actually on its way. Still, my belly is full of deliciousness from The Naam and my heart is full of love for the gorgeous gals I hung out there with, and I’m curled up all warm and cosy on my couch, and week five of LYM is all about Outreach, so here I am. Reaching out.

I haven’t always been an outgoing person. I struggled through a lot of social anxiety in my teenaged years and often found it challenging to meet and connect with new people. I worried about how others perceived me, what kind of first impression I made, if I was funny enough, if I was too loud, did they think I was weird - all the usual suspects. Suffice it to say I was not the kind of person who would strike up conversations with strangers, smile at random folk on the bus, or go out of my way to have an impact on those around me moment to moment. I preferred to move through life as unnoticed as possible. It just felt safer that way.

I guess if I’m going to be totally honest (and I am, by the way) it had a lot to do with fear. Fear of the world, fear of all the possible negative outcomes, fear of the malevolent intentions of others, fear of the unknown. I had so much fear twisting around my insides that it was impossible for me to trust anyone, especially myself. 

Remember that song they made you sing at Sunday school, “This Little Light of Mine?” I was hiding my light under a bigass bushel, yo.

Did I mention I work at lululemon? Well, I do. And what started as an easy summer job two years ago has actually evolved into something instrumental in shifting my entire life on its axis.

I’ll elaborate.

Something we talk about a lot at lululemon is the concept of “asteya” - a Sanskrit word that literally translates to “non-stealing”. Asteya (pronounced ash-tayuh) means not taking more than you are offered, or demanding more than you need. I fell in love with the idea instantly, and have since chosen to apply it in my life as loving kindness and generosity towards all the people I encounter, trusting in the goodness of the universe and that I have, am, and do enough. Good karma, if you like. The attitude of gratitude.

It’s a far cry from where I once stood, let me tell you.

Life can be hard. Shit happens. It’s easy to sit back on my bum and gripe and complain and grasp the good things that come my way so tightly I can’t even enjoy them. It’s easy to be stingy with others, too, and worry that by being kind and generous I will somehow not have enough love left for myself. We are (or I was, anyway) conditioned to fear a lack in our lives, as though unless we keep our happiness under lock and key we risk losing it entirely.

Not so.

Wise people have said that the more you give, the more you receive. Love your neighbour as yourself. After all, you catch more flies with honey. Okay, I’m done mixing my metaphors. Point is, the split second I recognized that gratitude was something I could choose, I also came to understand that it’s something I have to practise. I’m just not hardwired for it. There will always be that part of me that will want to dwell down in the dark place, and the only way I can stay out of it is to set my ego aside and truly be a part of my community.

When I can live in gratitude for the incredible bounty I enjoy, I can be loving, compassionate, and generous with those I encounter. I can connect with strangers. I can give up my spot in line. I can spare change. I can be in service to others with a kind and open heart. 

Asteya. Outreach. Gratitude.

Try it. Keep a gratitude journal. Make lists of all the things in your life you feel blessed to have.

And don’t be surprised if you start smiling at strangers or having random and wonderful conversations in the checkout at grocery stores. That’s part of it, too.

You know what’s kind of beautiful?

timorleste:

In French, you don’t really say, “I miss you.”

You say, “Tu me manques,” which is closer to, “You are missing from me.”

I love that. “You are missing from me.” You are a part of me, you are essential to my being. You are like a limb or an organ, or blood. I cannot function, without you.