Button Up Your Overcoat...

Hopefully, we won’t be wearing any “overcoats” in the near future now that Spring is here, but for some reason I thought of this old-timey song (published in 1928) when I went out today for a walk in the blustery air. The words are actually, “Button up your overcoat when the wind is free, take good care of yourself, you belong to me!” Well, actually, you belong to you. So indeed, button up. 

       A dear friend mentioned recently that she was scheduling a self-care day. I like this idea, and I like the idea of scheduling it in—actually jotting it down or typing it into your weekly planner. And in addition to a self-care day once a week or so, I think it would be great to schedule in a rest and restore hour every day (in addition to lunch, of course!).

      Sometimes I feel like I’m running in circles and there is absolutely no time to slow down and take a break (which in the long run makes us more energized and ultimately more productive). No doubt you’re thinking it’s impossible for you, too, especially if you have a job and/or kids. God knows what would happen if you went out for a walk or took a snooze!

      But have you ever noticed that when you actually do get sick and have to stay home and take care of yourself the world does not end? I’m not wishing an illness on anyone, but it’s kind of amazing the way when something actually happens to thwart us from meeting all the obligations that we have in a given day, banks still cash checks, restaurants still make food, the sun still rises and sets, and those who we think are incapable of living without us even for a few hours (children, spouses, etc.) somehow manage to carry on? I’m not a proponent of shirking responsibilities, but the more I witness how responsibilities can swallow our time and our health, the more I believe that self-care should be just as important (if not more so) than everything else.

      Lengthy vacations are great, but it may be even more essential to take a vacation in your mind on a daily basis. Close your door, light a candle, put on some calming music, and breathe for twenty minutes or so. You don’t have to be at a yoga class to enjoy a Shavasana (this translates as “corpse pose” which may not sound very fun to non-yogis, but many yogis know it as their favorite asana!) and you don’t need an excuse to take a time out from your day. You belong to yourself, after all. That’s reason enough.

Things I've Learned From Snow

We’ve had a lot of it lately. Frankly, I’m sick of looking at it. But it’s taught me a few things. I thought I’d sum them up in a list.

1.     Slow down. While driving home from a yoga event one morning, taking my usual pace, I skidded on the ice and nearly hit a car. Fortunately, there was no one in the left lane so I was able to slide over without mishap. Sometimes we need to adjust our pace. We can’t approach every situation in the same manner. When there’s an obstacle in our path like black ice or fog, it’s a no-brainer to take our time. Icy, snowy roads teach adjustment and flexibility. Leave extra time or don’t go out at all.

2.     Be helpful. Snow creates problems for everyone. Sometimes we get caught up in our own issues and forget to look out for the other guy. Recently, I overheard an elderly woman exclaiming how relieved she was that an unknown neighbor had shoveled her walk. In my own family my husband noticed that our neighbors weren’t home during an ice storm and their dog was barking inside. He surmised that something was amiss and cleared their driveway and sidewalk. The next day my neighbor told me she’d been at the hospital all night with her sick husband and she was nearly in tears when she came home and found that she could get into her driveway. Snow teaches us how to be an angel for someone else.

3.     Be grateful to go outside (and be grateful to stay inside). My brother looks forward to snow because he loves to ski. I usually avoid going out in it, but this year I forced myself to take a couple of walks. There is nothing as clean and crisp as the feeling of walking in snow. Bundle up like your kids and get out there! Snow teaches us to play! On the flip side, snow teaches us how lucky we are to be warm and safe inside.

4.     Feed the birds before the snow comes down. For weeks I couldn’t get to my birdfeeder because the ice was so thick. Next time snow is predicted (any minute?) I’m heading out to my birdfeeder. There’s nothing more lovely than watching birds peck at their birdseed after a snow storm, and nothing sadder than looking out at an empty feeder and realizing you can’t get out there to feed your feathered friends.

5.     Have patience. It seems like it will never stop snowing, it seems like you will never be able to get to the store or back to yoga class, it seems like you may go crazy being cooped up all day. But…this will pass. This will melt. And spring will come (in just a few weeks!). Snow teaches us that patience pays.

6.     Be prepared. Not just be prepared in terms of getting milk and bread in the house (or chia seeds or whatever you think you can’t possibly live without), but be prepared to change your plans. Snow teaches us how to let go of whatever we were planning, to let go of our schedules, routines, and must-dos.

7.     And last (though I could probably keep going) snow teaches us to open our eyes, to take our gazes off our computer screens and cell phones, and marvel at the incredible beauty around us. Just about everything looks good in the snow (at first, anyway). It’s Mother Nature's makeover-- covering cars, trees, streets, homes, and everything else in its path with an incredible substance that transforms the world to a place that is fresh, clean, and still. Enjoy!

Me...and…My Shadow Self

Wonderful person, or terrible Bi*ch? It’s all about perspective, isn’t it? Recently I had the lovely experience of being called a “wonderful person.” I won’t go into the details, but let me just say that I had gone above and beyond the call of duty for a friend, for many years in fact. Being a yogini (credo: do no harm) who was raised a Christian (love thy neighbor), I’ve always made it my goal to help others. Actually, it’s not even a goal. It’s something that just comes naturally to me; it was the way my mother was, the way I was raised--to be loving, giving, and helpful to others.

            BUT…there is a dark side to every do-gooder, as I was reminded the other night when a woman accused me of being nasty, pushy, and unreasonable. I don’t even understand how this could have happened, but one moment I was trying to clearly explain my position, and the next moment I realized that the person I was talking to was regarding me as a horrible demon. “Wait a minute!” I thought to myself. Doesn’t this individual know that I am kind, loving, caring, and giving? Apparently not. Apparently, at this moment in time, I appeared to be a terrible, evil, Bi*ch (sorry, but my blog is G rated--er, most of the time, anyway).

            Now, most of you who read this blog are my friends or associates and know this not to be true (the part about me being the B word, that is). But there are plenty of people out there who may meet us once or twice and form an entirely different opinion. How to deal with these misguided folks? Convince them of our sincerity and worthiness? Pointless and useless. Probably just better to let them think the worst. And might as well get used to it; not everyone is going to like you. Not everyone is going to accept you, or experience you as a “nice” person. And, on some days you are probably not really going to be that nice, anyway.

            Sometimes, I think, it's good to remind ourselves that we are who we are no matter what others believe. Other people can be wrong (or right). We know in our hearts whether/which they are.

After the little incident in which I was (inaccurately!) perceived to be nasty and mean, I described the experience to my youngest son and asked his opinion.

 “You just need to Namaste these people,” he advised.

I loved that response. Don’t react, don’t combat, simply “Namaste” them. Kinda like giving the finger in reverse.

            Namaste: the divine in me honors the divine in you. Even if you think I’m a Bi*ch!

            

Fish Tales

The other day, while walking in a nearby mall (the weather outside was frightful), I happened upon this rather unusual looking fish. Compared to Arnold, our family goldfish, this fish certainly is extraordinary. After staring at it for a while, and taking its picture from various angles (he seemed to pose like a movie star or a famous model), I couldn’t get the fish out of my head. It was swimming around in my thoughts for hours, and it wasn’t long before I began comparing the fish to some people I know.

There’s been a lot written about introverts and extroverts lately, and although it’s quite possible that this fish is extremely shy, it seems more likely that if this fish were a human being she/he would be quite happy to take center stage. It seems logical that a fish (or a person) with this much happening on the outside must have one helluva story to tell.

But I also know from experience that some of the most interesting people and stories (and perhaps, fish) appear to be very ordinary and unremarkable on the outside. All those frills and gills may be impressive, but they don’t really mean that this fish has had a more fascinating life than say, the average trout. And if this fish could talk, who knows if he would tell a tale that would touch one’s heart or make one laugh, or whether the fish would just be chattering on about how phenomenal he is.

Would this fish (if he/she were human) have a “better” tale to tell than the average mother who’s just given birth, or the average guy who’s served in the army, or the average nurse, teacher, janitor, or homeless person on the street? Or…the average guppy?

On the other hand, just because the fish is glitzy on the surface, doesn’t mean he’s not deep. He is what he is, and that’s as it should be. Would that we were all so apparently happy with the way we are.

Just Around the Corner...

Recently, I was talking to a friend who doesn’t like to travel. She visits the same vacation spot every year and doesn’t enjoy stepping out of her comfort zone. She doesn’t like eating at exotic restaurants, has no tolerance for airplanes, and is perfectly content to sit by a lake and read a book. I can kind of relate to that (at least the book by the lake part).

            At the other extreme, I have friends who’ve traveled all over the world. They’ve dined in Venice, dipped in the Red Sea, gambled in Macau and hung out at ashrams in India. Part of me can relate to that kind of life, too. It must be nice to see the world as your oyster.

            As much as I’d love to do more traveling (actually, I’m trying to manifest a trip to Hong Kong right now), I’m always reminded that we don’t have to go very far to see our surroundings with awe and wonder. In fact, this realization popped up yet again when I was walking less than a mile from my house recently and passed by this eagle. I’d be willing to bet that most of the people in my neighborhood don’t even know he (she?) exists, as his favorite tree is off the beaten track, on a path that pretty much leads to nowhere. For several years now, he and his family have been roosting from November until March.

            Unfortunately, it sometimes takes a dramatic turn of events to get us to open our eyes and see the beauty that’s in our own backyard. A cancer diagnosis, a near-miss with an oncoming truck, or the loss of a family member or close friend can remind us that we don’t have time to waste and that it’s a good idea to take our eyes off our computer screens every day and look up at the sky, or into the trees, or into our children’s faces. And though I’d like to go to Bali or Japan, I also want to remain aware of the fact that there are hummingbirds, butterflies and yes, even eagles, just a stone’s throw from my house.

            A young man I know often tells me he doesn’t like to visit the same place twice. But I have found certain places that I could visit hundreds of times and always find something new. Along the river where this eagle winters is one such place. Even though I don’t need to buy a plane ticket to get there, I’m always amazed by the seemingly infinite gifts of the here and now.

Christmastime

Mom and me, way back when.

When she passed on, my mother left me very big shoes to fill when it comes to Christmas (btw, we wore the same shoe size). Mom was a big believer in family and tradition; she devoted her entire life to making her husband, children, and grandchildren happy, sometimes, I fear, at the expense of her personal happiness. However, I never saw a wider smile on my mother’s face than on Christmas. She reveled in being surrounded by family, and it was her joy and honor to care for us.

            So! Not being my mother, I sometimes tend to get a little cranky around Christmastime. Cleaning, for one thing, is my least favorite activity. I enjoy cooking, but there’s a difference between roasting a pan of Brussels sprouts for my husband and me, and putting on an entire Christmas Eve and Christmas Day spread for 13 people. Shopping…well, let’s just say I’d prefer to order everything online, but because I waited until the last moment that wasn’t possible. The mall, much to my horror, simply could not be avoided.

            That said, I am not only looking forward to the holidays this year, I am enjoying the preparations as well. The reason? I’ve finally figured out that it really is about the journey, not just the arrival, as my Iyengar yoga teacher firmly pointed out (once again!) in class last week when we were all in a hurry to get into a pose.

            In many Christmases past, I’ve felt a sense of loss and sadness when the holiday ended. That was probably because I placed so much focus on its arrival, so much focus on the actual events of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. But “The Season of Light” isn’t just about the moment the lights go on; it’s also about the darkness before, and the warmth that stays with us after the lights are lit.

There’s an afterglow to Christmas, that’s for sure, that lasts long after the presents are opened, the pies are devoured, the tree is trimmed and everyone has finally arrived home from places far and wide. But there’s also a pre-glow that can be lost in the hurry and worry of it all. There’s a pre-glow as you sort and wrap presents, bake cookies (personally I hate baking cookies, but whatever floats your boat), as you write out your holiday cards (or send your holiday emails!).

That pre-glow is something I’m sure my mother knew about as well, for even though she did tend to “pre-worry,” she didn’t lose sight of the joy of preparation. It’s not just about one day; it’s also about the anticipation of waking up in the morning and knowing that your son who’s moved far away is coming home tomorrow or the next day, the pleasure of picking out just the right cranberries to make your cranberry sauce, the happiness of knowing all your grown children will be joking and sleeping again under the same roof (or if you have little children, the joy of knowing that just for this brief period, it doesn’t matter if they’re too excited to fall asleep).

There’s a reason why my mother always said she was looking forward to “Christmastime.” Religiously, it’s about the birth of Christ, of course. But it’s also about the gift of savoring the season, the season of family, friends, and the light we feel in our hearts when we’re together.

 And for me, it’s also about the joy of discovering that my mother’s “shoes” still fit.