Including today and Christmas Day, we have 7 days left to officially be in the Christmas Spirit. I know that you know what this sacred season is really and truly all about, but I also sympathize with how easy it is to get caught up in the commercialized and consumer-ized version of this season, too.

As I spend hours scouring websites and blogs trying to come up with the perfect gift for each person on my list, I find myself slipping into a rather covetous mindset as visions of cute new outfits, sassy new shoes, holiday decorations and all the latest techy items dance in my head. Gone in a flash are the purely gift-giving intentions as I indicate to add 2 of that adorable scarf from Etsy.com to my shopping cart, one for you and one for me. True confession: there have many a holiday season where I have actually purchased more for myself than I have for others, with the thrill of the purchase and the illusory need to have more holding the reigns to my proverbial sleigh.

But, as I sit here this morning after cleaning up from one of the many family Christmases that I get to celebrate over the next week or so, I remember that the true essence of this holiday does not exist in the malls, or online or even in the things that we buy. It exists in the moments that we get to share with each other, actually being together, fully present and fully appreciative of the great gift of Christmas itself. It doesn’t exist in the buying or the spending, it exists in those sweet moments when we give fully of ourselves to others.

To keep myself really present in the true meaning of the season, I am putting myself on the following CHRISTMAS CHALLENGE. Each day for the next seven days, give one act of kindness to someone who could use it. It will be a different person each day. It doesn’t have to be an actual item. It can be a simple offering of kindness to someone who is in need of it, for example, letting the woman with the unhappy child to go in front of you in line at the grocery store or it can be a more tangible item like providing a bag full of basic necessities to someone who is living on the street. It could mean giving a gift to someone that you normally wouldn’t give a gift to, maybe someone that you have had conflict with in the past. Or, it could mean baking your favorite cookies for the elderly couple down the street. It can be anything. It just has to be an act of simple giving. Nothing more. Nothing less. It is as simple as that. Gotta go get started.

Report back on how it goes, if you like!

I already feel more in the true Christmas spirit!

PS- If you want to really challenge yourself, give one random act of kindness on the first day, two on the second day, three on the third and so on and so forth.

Check out http://www.randomactsofkindness.org/Kindness-Ideas/Browse/index.php for ideas.

Gift Bag for People in Need

No one has ever been able to control his thinking,
although people may tell the story of how they have.
I don’t let go of my thoughts—I meet them with understanding.
Then they let go of me.
Byron Katie

The notion of “letting go” of thoughts has always seemed so challenging to me.

Try as I might the thoughts just keep coming, especially the ones that I want so desperately to LET GO of.

When I consider that I can meet my thoughts with compassion and understanding, that I can acknowledge them and see them for what they are, that I can notice everything about them instead of desperately trying to push them away, I actually feel so much more relaxed about the whole thing. This, I can do. This is doable.

Yogis…please always be very aware of your knees in your standing poses, especially Warrior poses.  Please. Please. Please.

Make sure that the knee of your front bent leg does not move out in front of your ankle. Allowing your knee to move in front of your ankle can be very dangerous for your knee, especially if you do it like this pose after pose, day after day.  If you already have weakness in your knees, this can definitely exacerbate it. Like Baz Luhrmann said in his song Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)…

Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Your shin should essentially be perpendicular to the ground.  Maybe even think of it as stacking your knee over your heel. From your visual perspective, this might allow for better alignment. If you need more space in your stance to allow this to happen, simply slide your back foot back a bit.

I stumbled upon this today knowing that it was a gentle reminder from the Universe.

The Language of Letting Go

To let go doesn’t mean to stop caring,
It means I can’t do it for someone else.
To let go is not to cut myself off,
It’s the realization that I can’t control another.
To let go is not to enable,
But to allow learning from natural consequences.
To let go is to admit powerlessness,
Which means the outcome is not in my hands.
To let go is not to try to change or blame another,
I can only change myself.
To let go is not to care for,
But to care about.
To let go is not to fix,
But to be supportive.
To let go is not to judge,
But to allow another to be a human being.
To let go is not to be arranging all the outcomes,
But to allow others to affect their own destinies.
To let go is not to be protective,
It’s to permit another to face reality.
To let go is not to deny,
But to accept.
To let go is not to nag, scold or argue,
But to search for my own shortcomings and to correct them.
To let go is not to adjust everything to my desires,
But to take each day as it comes.
To let go is not to criticize or regulate anyone,
But to try to become what I dream I can be.
To let go is not to regret the past,
But to grow and live for the future.

~Author Unknown

For those of you that have been sitting behind a desk for most of the day, clicking away on your MacBook Pro, I’d like to encourage you to take five minutes or so just to move through the following stretches.  These short stretches are intended to open up the body and to help relieve any stress and tension that has been accumulating in your neck, shoulders, hips and low back throughout the day, week or your whole life even.  You don’t even have to get off of your chair for these, and, YES, the email can wait.

~BREATHE~
The best place to begin is always by just taking a few deep breaths. No matter how busy your day is, you always have time for this. Just by taking a few cleansing breaths, your body, mind and spirit will begin to feel less stressed and fatigued and will instead begin to feel more invigorated and more grounded.
Begin by exhaling to empty all of the breath out.
Through your nose, sip in a very full, round breath, feeling the heart lift and the lungs expand.
When you get to the top of the inhalation, open up your mouth and exhale to empty completely. You can even make a little aaahhhhh sound there. Inquisitive looks from colleagues are a welcome thing. They might want to join in on the fun.
Repeat this for three breaths or so.
Then, softly seal your lips and breathe through your nose, inhaling to a slow count of five and exhaling to a slow count of five.
Let the breath move into the side body and the back body, as well.
Repeat for as long as you like.

~SHOULDER ROLLS~

On a big inhale bring your shoulders way up by your ears, and as you exhale let them roll wide down the back.
Repeat 3-5 times, each time creating a bit more space between the neck and the shoulders and the shoulders themselves.

~NECK STRETCH~

Begin by sitting tall, lengthening all four sides of your neck, feeling a lift up and out of the crown of the head.
Place the right hand onto your head, just above your left ear. Very gently use your hand to guide your right ear towards your right shoulder, being very careful not to apply too much pressure with your hand. No force. Just a gentle stretch along the left side of the neck.
Keep the right shoulder down.
Hold here for a few breaths, taking care not to clench your jaw.
Just as carefully return to center and change sides.

~HIP OPENER WITH A LOW BACK RELEASE AND A SHOULDER OPENER ON THE SIDE~

Start by sitting near the edge of your chair just so that your pelvis can tilt slightly forward.
Let both feet rest evenly on the ground, just about hip distance apart.
Lift your right foot off of the earth and cross your right ankle on top of your left leg just above the knee
On in inhale, lengthen the spine by grounding through the sitting bones and drawing up through the crown of the head.
Keeping the right foot flexed to protect the knee, let the right knee open to the side.
On an exhale, begin to hinge forward from the hips, folding the torso over the legs. Keep the spine very long andstraight. Draw the low belly in to protect your low back here.
Don’t worry about how far you fold forward! It’s all about creating space and relieving tension. So, be kind to your hips!
Stay rooted through both sit bones, keeping your weight evenly distributed.
Allow your breath to remain steady as you stay here for at least a minute.
Try not to grip in the bent knee hip. Keep it supple and sweet. If you need more of a stretch,
use your hand to gently guide the thigh open by pressing the knee downward.

For the added shoulder stretch, interlace your hands behind your back and try to press your palms together. Keeping the spine long and the integrity of the posture in tact, fold forward and draw your hands towards your head. Keep the collar-bones lifted and the neck long.

Slowly unwind and move into the second side.

I am so excited to report that the awesome people over at MindBodyGreen asked to be one of the Wellness Experts.  I don’t even know what that means and definitely don’t consider myself to be an expert on anything, but I am totally honored to be able to contribute to such an incredible source for all things wellness and yoga related. Here are links to the recent posts that I have written for them.  Please spend some time on their site.  It is awesome!

MindBodyGreen

While still an Indiana girl at heart, Jennifer is a yoga teacher in San Francisco who loves to laugh until it hurts, eat good food, travel to wherever the sun is shining, snuggle with her Labradoodle, Ruby, and spend as much time as possible with friends and family. She teaches atUrban Flow, a donation based studio that shares the practice of Bhatki Flow, the yoga of love and devotion.

Website: JenniferJarrettYoga.com
Twitter: @jjyoga
Facebook: Jennifer Jarrett Yoga

Talking to Myself: A Powerful Lesson from Meditation

During a meditation class a few years ago, the teacher instructed the group to follow the breath, watching the rise of the inhale and the fall of the exhale. Then she suggested that we notice the moments when we found ourselves distracted and… More…

My Yoga Practice Playlist

Music melts all the separate parts of our bodies together.” ~Anais Nin…More»

I recently found this story in a tupperware keepsake bin under my bed at my my mom’s house. The bin was filled with pictures, letters, report cards, and other stuff that my mom has saved through the years.  I was 9 years old when I wrote it and it made me laugh to find it and to read it again.  It also made me think about the blessing of friendship and how fortunate I have been throughout my life to have such amazing, kind, generous and loving friends.

To all of my friends who have ever been willing to share your scales with me,  thank you and I love you very very much.

Before Nemo, there was Fritty, The Fish Who Lost His Scales

One day a fish named Fritty went to play with his friends. When he went down the slide all of his scales blew off. He was scared that the other fish wouldn’t like him so he ran away and got lost. Fritty is afraid of Hermit the whale.

Hermit is a very dangerous whale; everyone is afraid of him.

Fritty decides to be brave and goes away from home.  So he starts a very long journey. He packs a lot of food and is on his way.

He went through a lot of rough nights. One night he got really scared because it was very windy. Hermit comes out on stormy nights. Fritty hid in some seaweed all night

In the morning, Fritty goes out and who do you suppose he meets- Hermit.  Fritty runs for safety but Hermit is still following him.

They keep on swimming and swimming until Fritty goes into a deep hole where Hermit can’t reach him. Fritty spends a lot of time in there.  From 8:00 to 5:30. Hermit gets bored and goes away. Fritty checks to see if it’s all clear to come out.  It’s safe but he’s still scared.

He goes for a little swim. He is still sad because he doesn’t have any scales.

Then, Fritty meets another fish and tells her about how he lost his scales.  Her name is Allie.  Allie doesn’t want to Fritty to feel sad so she gave him some of her scales.  They turn out to be good friends. They go to the park every day together, and play at each others’ houses. But, one day they got into a big fight. They stayed away from each other for a long time.  Fritty plays with his other friends.

One day, Allie came over to say sorry. Then, they went out to play. They played until it got dark. They they went home and went to bed. The next morning Fritty went over to
Allie’s house.  They played games and had a party. They stayed up all night laughing.
They got in trouble but they weren’t in trouble for long.

They were friends forever.

MY LIFE IS A YOGA POSE.

I have a very un-yogic confession to make.  A confession that goes against many very important philosophies and yogic teachings. A confession that I’m not sure a yoga teacher is supposed to make- at least not outloud. One that I even need to take a deep breath to admit, but I really feel like it is time to come clean.

So here goes…

I strongly dislike Parivrtta Trikonasana, Revolved Triangle Pose.  It’s true.  Totally dislike everything about this pose.  I wish that I could say that it’s just a minor annoyance or slight irritation, but, truth be told, I pretty much have a profound loathing for it.  So much so, that I sometimes find myself dreading the possibility of it appearing in class.  How absurd is that?  Dreading the possibility?  Talk about not being in the moment.  And, if it so happens that it is not part of a class, I notice it afterwards and actually feel a sense of relief-  almost like I got away with something.

This pose challenges me like none other.

Everything about being in this pose is uncomfortable for me.  I feel completely unstable – wobbly – ungrounded – like a gentle breeze would unravel the very thin thread that is keeping me standing at all.  I feel entirely restricted, almost compressed, and find myself profoundly challenged in ways that initially seem unfathomable, almost incomprehensible.

It brings me right up against all of the stuff- thoughts, feelings, doubts, insecurities, judgments and fears - that I’d really rather not be up against.  It holds me by the shoulders and forces me to standface-to-face, looking right in the eyes of the things that I like to turn away from typically.  Unwelcome thoughts of failure and uncertainty show up, fully intending to stay.  I find myself wondering how many more breaths I will have to remain in this incredible discomfort, feeling like even just one more breath, just one more moment, is entirely intolerable. I often feel like I can’t breathe here.  I often feel like I want to bail and collapse right into child’s pose just so I don’t have to endure another moment of this perceived torture.

For me, this pose is so difficult on all levels- emotionally, mentally, physically and sometimes even spiritually.

This pose is the perfect Reaction Temptress- inviting me to react to the discomfort, luring me out of calm, connection, and equanimity and cornering me into a place where all of my stuff is accentuated and illuminated.

When the student is ready, the teacher appears.

And, because of all of this- because of everything that this pose brings up and the degree to which it challenges me in the most uncomfortable ways- I have a very deep respect and admiration for it.  I find myself in a near state of awe before it, recognizing that this pose is one of my greatest teachers.  I may not like it, but it succeeds in pressing me right up against my edge, showing me the things that I need to see.

Sounds so dramatic.

But, perhaps the most dramatic part about all of this is this…being in this pose is pretty much just like being in my life right now.

I am living in Parivrtta Trikonasana.

It’s true- all life is yoga. I notice this every day, but often on a deeper, more philosophical level… recognizing that we are all connected, that we are all part of the Divine Whole, that there are infinite amounts of love and grace within each of us, that our nature is divine, that everything is temporary, that the Universe is generous, that we have everything that we need…but, I also can’t help but notice that different moments in life and the way I feel in these moments, who I am in these moments can be likened to different yoga poses, and the way I feel in them, who I am in them.

Those moments when I am super blissed out, feeling heart-wide-open and fully enlivened, and completely “hell-yeah” about life – those are my Urdhva Dhanurasana moments.

The moments when I need to invoke my inner ninja and access my own strength and power, the moments when I need to be that stealthy ninja warrior who dwells within the balance of strength and surrender – those are my Virabhadrasana 3 moments.

When I am feeling more contemplative and introspective, reflecting on my own feelings, thoughts and intentions – these precious moments are my Paschimottanasana moments.

When I know that I need to surrender, to let go of something, be it a thought, feeling, notion, opinion, or something else that no longer serves me or my higher good – these great moments of cleansing, of wringing it out, these moments are my twists.

And, then there is the sweetest of them all- dear Savasana- the pose that reminds me that I am held, that I am supported, that I am a part of this infinite Love, this divine Grace.  It invites me to soften and surrender, releasing the gripping, the holding, the wanting to do more, be more and have more, and, instead to rest in the knowing that I am enough, that I am never alone, that I am connected.  Savasana is like this sweet lullaby that comforts me, holds me and loves me for exactly who I am. And, it reminds me that because of Who walks with me through every step of this journey, there is no reason to fear.

Life has been one yoga pose after another.

And, right now I find myself in the toughest one of all.  Feeling just as wobbly, compressed, and challenged as I do in the actual asana, wanting to know how many more breaths I will be here, wanting to find relief from the intensity, wanting to move straight into that naturally joy-invoking Urdva Dhanurasana, wanting to be anywhere but “here.”

But, the reality is this…I am here.  I am in it.  This pose has been called out, and in it I stand.

And, I know that it is OK.  It just is.

I may not like it and I definitely wouldn’t choose this for anyone, but it is part of this flow. It is part of this journey.  And, while it tempts me to react, to be reactive, while it stands me face to face with my greatest fears, challenging me with near paralyzing uncertainty and anxiety, I know that I get to choose who I am in this pose.

Often, we do not get to choose what happens to us in our lives, but we do get to choose how we react.

Undoubtedly, the stuff will continue to bubble up to the surface around me, but I get to choose how I react to it.  Do I panic and allow the fear and uncertainty to overpower me?  Do I completely collapse under the pressure of it all?  Do I run away and pretend like none of it is happening?  Do I close my eyes, hold my breath, and pull the covers over my head hoping that it will all just go away?  Do I throw a temper tantrum reminiscent of the 6-year-old me, hand on hip, stomping one foot on the ground, so frustrated at my utter lack of control of what is happening around me?

Or, do I remember everything that all of the poses in my life have ever taught me?  See, for me, this pose, this experience, well, this is game time.  Every experience, every pose, every breath has brought me to this moment, to this time when I get to pay homage to this beautiful practice and use what I know to be true.  This is my opportunity to call upon who I know myself to be in other poses, in other times of my life, and I draw these qualities, these strengths in to my present self with my breath.  I let the joy of Urdhva Dhanurasana move through me.  I step into my stealthy ninja warrior self, knowing that I have the strength within me to be here now.  I allow myself to be reflective and contemplative about the profundity of this experience.  I know that I don’t have to hold on to the suffering, that I can surrender the things that separate me from my higher good, and I allow myself to rest in the knowing that I do not walk alone.  I know that even in the midst of the struggle, I can breathe in the beauty, the wonder and the miracle of it all.

I know that I am not helpless, that I am not powerless, that I am not a victim.  I know that within me I have the strength the power and the grace to endure, even though there are moments where I feel incredibly weak and powerless.  I know that embodying my own stealthy ninja strength does not mean that there will no longer be moments of fear, sadness and trepidation that will knock me off my feet.  It just means that I will continue to stand up again no matter how many times I fall.  It means that no matter how much life pushes back at me, no matter how uncomfortable I am in my revolved triangle, I will continue to breathe through it, embracing the impermanence of all of it.  I know that this will change.  All of it.  Nothing will remain the same. All of it is temporary.

I know that eventually this pose will flow into the next.  Just as it does in class, so it does in life.  And, while Parivrtta Trikonasana may never be my favorite pose, I recognize the beauty of it, the gift that it is and I honor this pose as one of my greatest teachers. I know that this pose, that this time of my life, is my greatest teacher.  I know that I am prepared to be here in it.  I am prepared to be here now.  I have spent my whole life preparing for this, and I know that I am stronger than I think I am.

May we all know that we are stronger than we think we are.

May we know that it is all temporary.

And, in that knowing, may we be encouraged to choose a reaction to all of the challenges in our lives that allows us to align with our own greater good, and may that offer us the opportunity to be of the greatest service to others.

Do you know what church giggles are?

Church giggles are when you start laughing at highly inappropriate times, at times when you are supposed to be a little more serious, respectful, maybe even silent, like in church or at a funeral, during a lecture or even in the middle of a yoga class. Because you know you aren’t supposed to laugh, you laugh all the more, to the point where it becomes practically uncontrollable, with shoulders shaking and tears streaming out of your eyes just from trying to hold it all in.

I love church giggles. It makes me laugh even now just to think about them.  I love them so much because they are so real and authentic and spontaneous and because you just feel so good after a good church giggles fit.  I love that deep sigh at the end when you feel like you have regained your composure, melting into this feeling of being cleansed and enlivened; this awareness of being fully alive.

I have been feeling, thinking and writing a lot about what it’s like to be in this place; what it’s like to be a member of this club that you really don’t ever want to be initiated into. Trust me. And, yes, so much of it is excruciating.  So much of it is painful beyond imagination and even comprehension.  Watching the person that you love the most in the world suffer, hurt and fear is debilitating on all levels- physically, emotionally, mentally and even spiritually.  It often feels like the air has quite literally been sucked out of the room and it just takes all the strength in the world just to get to the next moment.

But, somehow and someway we manage to get to the next moment.  Somehow and someway we move through this existence even though it feels like we are swimming through tar, barely able to keep our heads above the blackness.

And, one of the ways that we manage to do it is this…believe it or not, we laugh.

Maybe we don’t laugh as much as we used to, and tears are sometimes way more accessible, but we still laugh a lot and when we laugh we feel it- we really feel it.

We find reasons to laugh.  We find humor even in all of this bullshit that is cancer.  Maybe it’s because if we didn’t laugh we would cry, but that doesn’t really matter to me. I’m just grateful for all the moments of laughter that I get to share with my mom and family. And while there are plenty of times when the tears trump the giggles, laughing sure does feel a whole lot better.

We find humor in the most unlikely places.

If you told me three years ago that we (that includes my mom) would be cracking up about the hallucinations that my mom had in the hospital after her surgery, I wouldn’t have believed you.

If you had told me that we would be in hysterics during chemotherapy because my sweet uncle brought in a day old milkshake from Steak And Shake in a cooler for my mom, I would have told you you were crazy. I wouldn’t have believed that any of this could be funny.  I wouldn’t have believed that we could experience levity and light in the midst of this.

But, I have learned that even in the darkest moments, one of the most healing things that we can give  to ourselves and to others is the gift of laughter.  Even in the heaviest of times, laughter can bring comfort and communion.

Right now my mom is recovering from major surgery amongst other setbacks and is gearing up to start some pretty intense chemotherapy next week.  But, every day we find a reason to laugh. We watch The Ellen DeGeneres Show or funny movies.  We cruise down memory lane, laughing about all of the ridiculous things that have happened along the way.  We reminisce and relive the family vacations, like the infamous journey on mules down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, holidays, such as the Christmas where we all had a few too many White Russians, and normal life memories of our Brady Bunch family: soccer games, family dinners, the trouble that we all used to get into, the time that Jay and I took advantage of our authority as babysitters and cut off Casey’s coveted tail. My mom tells stories about growing up as one of nine kids in Marion, Indiana and the hilarious insanity that seemed to swirl through their days on Fifth Street.  We laugh at Joe, my stepdad, and how he consistently gets fired up by watching the news and starts yellin’ at the politicians.  Sometimes, we even laugh at the absurdity of this nasty disease and the way it has rocked our lives.  Sometimes.

We find the laughter that is just sitting there waiting for us to turn to it, just waiting to be noticed.

We laugh and we feel lighter.  We laugh and we feel a little more normal.  We laugh and we feel less tension, more relief. We laugh and we feel like maybe, just maybe, things really are OK.  We laugh because we get to celebrate every single moment that we get to spend together.  We laugh because this life is short and predictable and it could all disappear tomorrow.  We figure that we might as well. We sure has hell have nothing to lose!

We laugh even though we are in the trenches.  We laugh even though we are very aware of the reality within which we reside.  It doesn’t change the fact that cancer is here, but it allows us to have moments when we feel like we are more powerful than cancer.

In many ways, it is our opportunity to give cancer the great big collective middle finger, letting it know, that no matter how much it tries, it will never take our spirit from us.

When I was a little girl, I loved the “I love to laugh” scene from Mary Poppins.  Along with wanting to float on the clouds like the Care Bears did, I also wanted to be able to laugh as hard as they did in this scene so that I, too, could float to the ceiling and spin around and just be totally free.  As a child, the deeper significance of the scene was lost to me.  I just wanted to be able to float, to fly.

But, now I understand.  While, our feet may stay planted on the ground, laughter is lightness.  Laughter is freedom.  Laughter is a way to float above the suffering.  Laughter is a way to disconnect from the trauma and stress that we know so well and instead reconnect with each other and the joy that is around us and within us.  Laughter is a way to remind ourselves that we are very much alive.

Tonight, in yoga class, I couldn’t breathe.

Obviously, I managed to take in and send out some breath, but I couldn’t breathe in the way that I have become accustomed to breathing while practicing yoga.  I couldn’t breathe in the way that has comforted me since discovering my breath on the mat years ago.  I couldn’t breathe in the way that has so consistently taken me out of my fears, worries and anxieties and placed me in a place of calm and surrender.

For the first time since I have been turning to the breath, I couldn’t find it.

There was no rhythm.

There was no depth.

There certainly was no sound.

There was just me, my body, my scattered, fear-laden thoughts, and, of course, that ginormous elephant that has been sitting so comfortably on my chest for the past few weeks was present and accounted for (who resembles nothing of the elephant headed deity that I love so very much).  He had settled in to his current place of residence with such ease, I guess it was naïve of me to think that he might step off for a bit so a girl could get her yoga on and find a little bit of calm and relief.  But, he stayed put and he managed quite successfully to keep my breath away from me.

I have always turned to my mat as a place of refuge, a place of solace and comfort, a place where I could relax into the ebb and flow and the rise and the fall of my breath and watch every worry and preoccupation just melt away, if only temporarily. Life could be storming all around me and I could come to my mat, connect deeply to my breath, and feel a profound sense of calm, connectedness and, yes, even contentment move through me.

Tonight everything was different. My safety net had a huge hole in it.  Every part of my body was just pure tension.  I saw it. I felt it.  I was it.

Upon realizing that I wasn’t breathing, like a good little yogini, I placed myself in child’s pose just to try to bring some calm to this craziness that was suffocating me.  As my hips gently pressed back onto my heels and my forehead rested on the earth, my arms extended out in front of me and my palms turned up to the sky in a gesture of prayer, I closed my eyes and realized that I had no choice.  I had to just surrender into it.  I let all of the tension, all of the worry, all of the anxiety that was a part of my life off of my mat just move through me.  I knew that I couldn’t fight it.  In that moment, I knew that the fighting was what was taking my breath away from me.  I knew that I had to just be with it.

And, the feeling of it all moving through me was so intense that I wanted to create as much distance between my suffering and myself as possible.  I wanted to get up and run out of the room.  Literally.

…yoga teacher runs out of class because she can’t breathe…

But, I stayed.  I stayed because I thought about all of the people who I have asked to stay through the discomfort and the pain of whatever comes up  for them during class. I stayed because I thought about all of the times that I had suggested to someone that they just breathe through it, and, knowing now what it truly felt like to not be able to breathe, I felt incredible waves of guilt for the simplicity and sometimes complete inaccessibility of this suggestion.  I felt complete compassion and acute empathy for those who suffered this disconnection, this separation from any semblance of comfort. I stayed because I was inspired by all of the incredible acts of courage I have witnessed from people who are undoubtedly going through some very heavy stuff in their lives.  I stayed because they stayed.  I stayed because I allowed their strength to become my strength and their breath to become my breath.  I stayed simply because I needed to stay.  I stayed because I was deep in the heart of something quite profound and that’s exactly where I needed to be.

There are these profound moments in life when things become really uncertain and uncomfortable, when everything that seemed to be solid melts into liquid all around us.  There are times when nothing seems to work, when everything that we had previously turned to for comfort just abandons its shift and stops doing its job.  There are times when we literally can’t breathe, when it is just too much to even try to connect to the breath.  And, so often, during these times when we are right up against something, we try to run away from any discomfort that arises thinking that we need to escape it.  We try as hard as we can to minimize the intensity and soften the blow of whatever is occurring. So often, we try to force those huge elephants off of our chests with everything that we have just to get the reality of whatever the elephant really is away from us.  We think that our lives need to just be one moment of comfort after the next and anytime anything messes with that plan of ours, we pretty much freak out.

But instead of pushing it away, instead of freaking out,  maybe we need to draw it closer.  Instead of running away, maybe we need to turn toward whatever it is.  Maybe it is through these moments of discomfort that we discover the most profound truths about ourselves, about who we really are in this world, about what feeds us and nourishes our souls.  And, maybe from that place of discovery we are empowered to create a life for ourselves that is all the more fulfilling and wonderful (or even Wonder-full). By no means, am I suggesting that we wallow in our misery or that we look for opportunities to create more discomfort for ourselves.  We don’t need to be nihilistic here.  I’m just saying that when the times of discomfort and uncertainty arise, instead of pulling the lever on the escape hatch, maybe we just stay and sit through it so that we can witness what is there on the other side of it all.

In class tonight, as I struggled to find my breath, I remembered that it is only by really going in do we find our way out.  I remembered that sitting with what is in any given moment, no matter how wretched, no matter how painful, is as much a part of the process as is frolicking with the moments that are splendid and magnificent.  All of it, every moment is precious, even if it is painful.

“Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible in us be found.” ~Pema Chodron

For me, tonight, that something that I was running from was grief.  Every ounce of that elephant was grief and fear and sorrow.  I knew that the grief would annihilate me if I let it.  And, I lost my breath in the attempted escape from it all.  By trying to run away from all that I was feeling because it was uncomfortable and painful, I only contributed to my undoing, to my suffering, to the suffering that arises from not accepting the reality of what is.  The reality is that I was in pain.  The reality is that I needed to go into the pain, to feel the pain, in order to move to the other side of the pain.  By looking directly at the pain that was looming and by allowing it to move through me, I felt myself soften, surrender.  I knew that once it moved through me, I didn’t have to push it away nor did I have to hold on to it.  I knew that through this allowing it to rise and fall I was taking away any of the perceived control that it had over me. I felt my tension begin to dissipate and my anxiety begin to subside.  And even though I was sitting very much in the center of my grief, I knew that I was OK.  I knew that I was better than OK.  I knew that I was in the middle of a beautiful and tender moment that spoke volumes to the amount of love that I feel in my life.  I knew that this moment was precious because it just was.  I knew that it was glorious because I was so connected to the love in my heart and I was so very much exactly where I was.  I felt my breath begin to deepen.  And, it was a full, honest and complete breath.

I found my breath right in the center of exactly where I was in that moment.  When I tried to run away from what was really happening, when I tried to flee the discomfort, my wise breath knowingly stayed behind, continuing to dwell right there in the truth of the present moment.

And as my breath began to deepen, I felt myself return to the great truth of it all…the fact that everything is temporary. Nothing is permanent.  Nothing is forever.  Everything changes and nothing at all stays the same.  And, it is the fleeting nature of this life that makes it so sweet.  It is the fact that there are downs that make us love the ups. It is the fact that there are ups that keep us from getting swallowed alive by the downs.  It is the ebb and the flow.  It is the rise and the fall of life.  There is a tendency to cling to the rise and want to speed through the fall, but every moment is part of the beautiful process. And, instead of being terrorized by the pain and sorrow that will meet us at various times during our journey, may we move through them with grace and courage, knowing that they too shall pass and that no feeling is final, but every moment is precious, wonderful and full of Wonder exactly as it is.