I'm learning more and more just how often I am searching, yearning, craving, obsessed, tortured by the idea that I am somehow missing out on life. I lead a full and rich life that is, by all standards, pretty fantastic. It's true! But, I don't always feel fantastic. In fact I often feel far less than fantastic. And, there are times, when I feel down right crummy. For no good reason. I even fantasize that it would be easier if I could just have a massive problem in my life to justify my malaise and rev up my engines for action. But, that is a terrible idea because my life is already incredibly full and certainly I don't want life to get crummier. It is already in a state of disharmony that is worth writing a blog about.
So, what is the issue?
The issue is that I have the luxury of comfort which leads me to the unanswerable existential questions. Why am I here? Who am I? What does it all mean? Every Ted talk I have listened to in the past couple months (in my search for relief of my discontent) talk about purpose. But, when we get really existential about it. Purpose is dependent on our having an established perspective on the value of our existence. Existential questions have lurked in the back of my brain/body my whole life. I have routinely found myself frustrated with not getting "it." What "it" is exactly is unclear, but certainly, there should be something to "it." Right? Maybe?
Or, maybe not. My world is brilliant and mundane. It stable and imbalanced. It is hard but rather easy (in that suburban way). It is a mixed bag to say the least. What drags me down the most is the sense that there is something more out there. I have serious FOMO. Not that i fear missing out on what exactly other people are doing, but I fear I am missing out on living life fully. Shouldn't I be more excited about life? It seems everyone else is (ok fine, at least some other people are) jumping out of their beds in the morning celebrating the "good vibes" and "simple pleasures" in a blissed out state of feel good. There is a line in a Buddhist chant called the Loving Kindness Sutta.
"This is what should be accomplished by the one who is wise, who seeks the good and has obtained peace. Let one be strenuous upright and sincere, Without pride, easily contented and joyous. . ."
Easily contented and joyous? My goodness! Such a tall order for this life! I have been feeling anything but content these past few months. And, the worst part about it is that nothing is wrong! Except, life. This is what we are here to do. This experience of discontent is "it" as much as anything else. This is the richness of life. But, not in a special "blissed out" way; rather in the way life as a human is messy. Life is morning that turns into afternoon that turns into evening that turns into night. It is both remarkable and entirely unremarkable.
My current lesson is that this can't be fixed. There is no "it" to fix. No fixing will change things because, this is as life is. This is what we are here to do. I can choose to surrender to the need to fix and find solutions. What would I do with my time if I weren't constantly trying to feel better all the time!? I can allow things to be what they are (which again is pretty darn good in my case). Will I ever have a sense of great optimism again? Maybe. I don't know, but, chasing after it is not going to bring me any closer to it. I will just be running away from myself again and again.
So, I'll just be over here. Allowing "it" to be what "it" is. Letting go of the hope of something more special and embracing the mishmash that is life right now. It's ok. "It" is just fine as it is.
Showing posts with label healing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label healing. Show all posts
Monday, March 18, 2019
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Expectations are the worst!
Time and time again I get caught in emotional gridlock due to expectations and assumptions made either by me of others or by others of me. Expectations are the worst! They are a sure fire way to suck enjoyment out of most situations and ruin otherwise perfectly pleasant interactions and relationships.
Too bad.
The biggest problem is that we are human. There is no perfect way to communicate; there are no perfect words. We don't come with directions and neither does any one else in the world. We stumble along our paths, bumping recklessly into each other hoping we don't bruise each other or ourselves too badly in the process. We can't help our messiness.
There is a verse from the Tao Te Ching that states "The skillful traveler leaves no tracks." What a beautiful image to remind us how we all can aim to be more skillful in our lives! It is a reminder that it is possible to skillfully navigate our way through the world-- not just toward the environment but toward each other. When we interact with each other we often leave behind a residue that they carry with them and that we carry with us from that point on. The messier our interactions the thicker and more toxic the residue becomes. If only we could act with such clarity, respect, patience and non-attachment, that we didn't leave behind our nasty residue on each other.
But, unfortunately, it takes practice, and, in the best of cases, we will only ever be one half of a relationship. When we have unvoiced expectations of each other, we are brewing a our toxic soup of emotions. We are setting ourselves up for crisis, and, when we are unclear about what others can expect from us, then we are giving them an opportunity to brew their special blend of resentment, hurt, disappointment, fear, anger, jealousy or embarrassment.
We can't avoid all misunderstandings, but the clearer we communicate our needs to others and the more clearly we establish our boundaries in what they can expect from us, we increase our chances of avoiding total disaster.
And, when the occasional disaster strikes, we do what we can to mediate with compassion so we can move forward and try again.
Read more of the Dancing Poetess here:
I want to write gooder
Did you make your bed today?
Too bad.
The biggest problem is that we are human. There is no perfect way to communicate; there are no perfect words. We don't come with directions and neither does any one else in the world. We stumble along our paths, bumping recklessly into each other hoping we don't bruise each other or ourselves too badly in the process. We can't help our messiness.
There is a verse from the Tao Te Ching that states "The skillful traveler leaves no tracks." What a beautiful image to remind us how we all can aim to be more skillful in our lives! It is a reminder that it is possible to skillfully navigate our way through the world-- not just toward the environment but toward each other. When we interact with each other we often leave behind a residue that they carry with them and that we carry with us from that point on. The messier our interactions the thicker and more toxic the residue becomes. If only we could act with such clarity, respect, patience and non-attachment, that we didn't leave behind our nasty residue on each other.
But, unfortunately, it takes practice, and, in the best of cases, we will only ever be one half of a relationship. When we have unvoiced expectations of each other, we are brewing a our toxic soup of emotions. We are setting ourselves up for crisis, and, when we are unclear about what others can expect from us, then we are giving them an opportunity to brew their special blend of resentment, hurt, disappointment, fear, anger, jealousy or embarrassment.
We can't avoid all misunderstandings, but the clearer we communicate our needs to others and the more clearly we establish our boundaries in what they can expect from us, we increase our chances of avoiding total disaster.
And, when the occasional disaster strikes, we do what we can to mediate with compassion so we can move forward and try again.
Read more of the Dancing Poetess here:
I want to write gooder
Did you make your bed today?
Friday, April 18, 2014
The Rib Cage. . . Cage? Really?
How do you think about your ribs? Are they one unit? Are they a block that gets moved as one?
Because. . .that is pretty much how I have been using mine for a long, long time.
Of course I knew that there were 12 thoracic vertebra (from anatomy classes and massage school), and each thoracic vertebra connects to a rib on each side. Duh! And, yet, I never really thought that these bones could work independently of each other. They always seemed so locked together. I couldn't envision it, let alone feel it. I mean it is a rib "cage"right? Not a . . .
. . . a rib accordion?!?
I am just now learning to feel the motion that exists in the many areas and dimensions of my ribs, spine and sternum. I am starting to feel that my sternum moves my thoracic spine and vice verse. And, I can twist in those upper ribs! Each space between each rib has the capacity to move (even if just a little) to allow for generous twists that aren't just in my neck and low back. Yahoo!
But, here is the rub, why did I freeze it in the first place? What was I caging between my ribs? Of course, the anatomical answer is the lungs. But, the more holistic answer is my breath. I was caging my breath, locking it between my frozen ribs. Why? Because that was an easy way to hide the muck of my emotions.
In yoga they talk about prana or energy that is directly related to the breath. Yogis devote their lifetimes to controlling their prana through breath exercises. It is worthwhile practice for this very reason. Our breath is a direct link to our nervous system.
And, the stuff that gets caught. . . I call it emotional waste. When my nervous system clicks into fight or flight, I have started to notice that I lock down my chest. It's a little like an emotional lock down that functions to keep me clear headed, intellectual and problem solving-- you know a "mature adult." But, the reality is that inside I am having a tantrum! I am scared, angry, frustrated, hurt, sad. . . And, all of that is getting packed away into the rib cage. Day by day. Event by event. Challenge by challenge. When I don't let myself feel the intensity of what I am experiencing, I am just stuffing it away. Packing cement between my ribs in hopes of keeping the emotions at bay.
So, now I get to relearn that reaction. I am discovering the movement of my ribs. But, I am having to deal with a lot more than rusty muscles. I am having to rediscover what triggers my nervous system into fight or flight which causes me to hold my breath and to lock down my heart center. Sometimes, it is a clear one to one explanation. Someone criticizes me and I react defensively. Or, I forget something on my schedule that was important to me and I freak out. But, sometimes it is less clear. I start to move my upper ribs with my breath, and I all of a sudden feel sad, or irritable, or angry. Those pent up experiences are held in the cellular memory of those tissues and the nervous system.
This is big. Making change in this way requires constant vigilance as well as compassion and forgiveness. I can't just make a decision and force my ribs to move. I am undoing years and years of this reactive habit. And, forcing myself to do anything will just trigger my fight or flight again, defeating the purpose!
No, this is a gradual process. A slow unfolding of the layers of holding. Bit by bit.
Breath by breath.
Because. . .that is pretty much how I have been using mine for a long, long time.
Of course I knew that there were 12 thoracic vertebra (from anatomy classes and massage school), and each thoracic vertebra connects to a rib on each side. Duh! And, yet, I never really thought that these bones could work independently of each other. They always seemed so locked together. I couldn't envision it, let alone feel it. I mean it is a rib "cage"right? Not a . . .
. . . a rib accordion?!?
I am just now learning to feel the motion that exists in the many areas and dimensions of my ribs, spine and sternum. I am starting to feel that my sternum moves my thoracic spine and vice verse. And, I can twist in those upper ribs! Each space between each rib has the capacity to move (even if just a little) to allow for generous twists that aren't just in my neck and low back. Yahoo!
But, here is the rub, why did I freeze it in the first place? What was I caging between my ribs? Of course, the anatomical answer is the lungs. But, the more holistic answer is my breath. I was caging my breath, locking it between my frozen ribs. Why? Because that was an easy way to hide the muck of my emotions.
In yoga they talk about prana or energy that is directly related to the breath. Yogis devote their lifetimes to controlling their prana through breath exercises. It is worthwhile practice for this very reason. Our breath is a direct link to our nervous system.
And, the stuff that gets caught. . . I call it emotional waste. When my nervous system clicks into fight or flight, I have started to notice that I lock down my chest. It's a little like an emotional lock down that functions to keep me clear headed, intellectual and problem solving-- you know a "mature adult." But, the reality is that inside I am having a tantrum! I am scared, angry, frustrated, hurt, sad. . . And, all of that is getting packed away into the rib cage. Day by day. Event by event. Challenge by challenge. When I don't let myself feel the intensity of what I am experiencing, I am just stuffing it away. Packing cement between my ribs in hopes of keeping the emotions at bay.
So, now I get to relearn that reaction. I am discovering the movement of my ribs. But, I am having to deal with a lot more than rusty muscles. I am having to rediscover what triggers my nervous system into fight or flight which causes me to hold my breath and to lock down my heart center. Sometimes, it is a clear one to one explanation. Someone criticizes me and I react defensively. Or, I forget something on my schedule that was important to me and I freak out. But, sometimes it is less clear. I start to move my upper ribs with my breath, and I all of a sudden feel sad, or irritable, or angry. Those pent up experiences are held in the cellular memory of those tissues and the nervous system.
This is big. Making change in this way requires constant vigilance as well as compassion and forgiveness. I can't just make a decision and force my ribs to move. I am undoing years and years of this reactive habit. And, forcing myself to do anything will just trigger my fight or flight again, defeating the purpose!
No, this is a gradual process. A slow unfolding of the layers of holding. Bit by bit.
Breath by breath.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Pacing Your Day: Pacing Your Life
I have often been surprised by my need for rest. Most people who know me know that I nap most everyday, and, only with exceptions (and often an extra bit of caffeine and adrenaline), do I get through my day without a rest period-- if not a whole 90 minute sleep cycle.
It seems not everyone "needs" this rest in the same way. At least, many people I know express that a nap would be nice, but never actually take a nap. This is interesting because I nap in response to an intense need to reset all of my systems. When I am fatigued I feel absolutely crummy and my productivity is hopeless. If I have to, I can generate enough stress induced adrenaline to get through a day of go go go, but that comes at a cost to my health and energy level the next day.
I have had a tough month with sickness. First a stomach bug then an upper respiratory infection. Basically, I was sick for about 4 weeks straight. And, I felt like I couldn't get better. I would try to take an extra rest here and there. Extra hour of a nap. Getting to bed early. Sleeping in. But, I was still ill and my productivity was shot. I felt useless.
Enough was enough, so I spent two days in bed. Not because I had a fever of 102, but because I couldn't kick the fatigue bit my bit. I needed a huge rest or, rather, a huge reset.
So, despite my intellectual desire to get work done, I could do none of it.
During this time, I felt like I would never feel better again. I felt like I had never been productive or never had enough energy to get through teaching a dance class. I was consumed by the present experience of being ill and completely spent.
And yet, after those two days of pure rest (relief from a standing expectation to produce), I started to feel better. First 70%, then 85% and now I feel at about 95% which is such a relief! The little nagging cough is nothing compared to the overall incapacity I had experienced. And, these past two days I have been hugely productive. Catching up on a pile of paperwork that had been looming on my to do list for over a month! It felt to so good to sent off that email, follow up on that phone call, clean up that mess, file those papers. Oh, the joys of feeling the power of productivity!
But, in reflecting on this past week, having felt so ill just 7 days earlier and only having felt marginally better 3 days ago, I am taking this moment to notice and observe that there is an ebb and flow to the way I do things. And, that is ok. Not everyday will feel as productive as the past two have, so I must remember during those dreary sick days that I will recover, that I will heal and return to the high point -- and that high point will eventually turn downward again.
I will always be changing, and I want to remember the nature of the natural rising and falling at each stage in the ebb and flow. It is impossible to be hyper productive 24/7 for 365 days a year. I know this intellectually, yet I was still holding myself to a ridiculous standard of high output each and everyday.
Perhaps as I become more honest and self accepting of my rhythms (as different as they seem from the people around me) the amount of energy I will increase. But, in the meantime, I am learning that I get to rest. That I get to change my pace as life comes at me.
Have you rested lately?
It seems not everyone "needs" this rest in the same way. At least, many people I know express that a nap would be nice, but never actually take a nap. This is interesting because I nap in response to an intense need to reset all of my systems. When I am fatigued I feel absolutely crummy and my productivity is hopeless. If I have to, I can generate enough stress induced adrenaline to get through a day of go go go, but that comes at a cost to my health and energy level the next day.
I have had a tough month with sickness. First a stomach bug then an upper respiratory infection. Basically, I was sick for about 4 weeks straight. And, I felt like I couldn't get better. I would try to take an extra rest here and there. Extra hour of a nap. Getting to bed early. Sleeping in. But, I was still ill and my productivity was shot. I felt useless.
Enough was enough, so I spent two days in bed. Not because I had a fever of 102, but because I couldn't kick the fatigue bit my bit. I needed a huge rest or, rather, a huge reset.
So, despite my intellectual desire to get work done, I could do none of it.
During this time, I felt like I would never feel better again. I felt like I had never been productive or never had enough energy to get through teaching a dance class. I was consumed by the present experience of being ill and completely spent.
And yet, after those two days of pure rest (relief from a standing expectation to produce), I started to feel better. First 70%, then 85% and now I feel at about 95% which is such a relief! The little nagging cough is nothing compared to the overall incapacity I had experienced. And, these past two days I have been hugely productive. Catching up on a pile of paperwork that had been looming on my to do list for over a month! It felt to so good to sent off that email, follow up on that phone call, clean up that mess, file those papers. Oh, the joys of feeling the power of productivity!
But, in reflecting on this past week, having felt so ill just 7 days earlier and only having felt marginally better 3 days ago, I am taking this moment to notice and observe that there is an ebb and flow to the way I do things. And, that is ok. Not everyday will feel as productive as the past two have, so I must remember during those dreary sick days that I will recover, that I will heal and return to the high point -- and that high point will eventually turn downward again.
I will always be changing, and I want to remember the nature of the natural rising and falling at each stage in the ebb and flow. It is impossible to be hyper productive 24/7 for 365 days a year. I know this intellectually, yet I was still holding myself to a ridiculous standard of high output each and everyday.
Perhaps as I become more honest and self accepting of my rhythms (as different as they seem from the people around me) the amount of energy I will increase. But, in the meantime, I am learning that I get to rest. That I get to change my pace as life comes at me.
Have you rested lately?
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
How old are you now?
I had another blog lined up to share, but a dear friend asked me to post something regarding a conversation we had surrounding age and old thinking habits. So, this is for Kathy and for anyone else who has ever found themselves acting like a juvenile when they are 30 (or 40, or 50, or 70!).
I'm 33 going on 34. But this past weekend I found myself feeling 14! And, not in a good way. If I took an objective snap shot of myself at 14, things would look pretty good. I was tall, slender, talented, smart, accomplished, well spoken. . . and horribly insecure. I just wanted to feel pretty. I just wanted to feel smart. I wanted people to gush over how wonderful I was. (Man, this is embarrassing to admit). I wanted to be the best, and I wanted to feel like the best. I wanted to feel like enough. But of course. . . I didn't.
So, on Sunday I hosted a preview of my dance company's newest show "Dance Adventures in Stripes and Dots" in order to get feedback from a small test audience and see how the show worked as a whole. The evening went well. People enjoyed the dancing. I was able to actually perform (last year I was injured, and I really haven't danced that hard for 2 years!). It was a success. And, my 34 year old brain new that. I knew that it was a huge deal that I was able to dance fully for the 55 minute show and not end up crippled in back pain! This was great!
And, yet. It wasn't enough.
The 14 year old inside me was not satisfied. I wanted people to gush over me! I wanted to feel amazing and beautiful! Instead I felt insecure. I wanted overwhelming praise, and I wanted it now.
Knowing something in our head doesn't made it easier to know it in our heart. The only way I know to process through these moments of old thinking is to feel them fully, to feel them in a way that I didn't let myself feel them when I was younger. And, then get to the root and dig it out.
In my case, I want people to praise me because I want proof that "I am good enough." I wanted people to tell me I amazed them so I could feel like I had met my goal and accomplished my dream. But, of course the reality is that no matter how good I am, the 14 year old belief set won't let me believe it. Somehow at that point in my life I had already convinced myself that only praise from others was going to convince me that I was good enough. I don't know exactly how I arrived at that conclusion (that part doesn't really matter), but the reality of those feeling were there.
And they will continue to live inside me until I change my 14 year old way of thinking and feeling. Until I believe I am enough (pretty enough, talented enough, creative enough) I will continue to encounter the irrational thinking of the 14 year old girl.
So, I get to start on the path by first confessing here in public that this is going on. It isn't pretty, and it isn't fun, but it is honest. And, by sharing this truth it demystifies it for my nervous system and its grasp on me loosens just a touch. This is where my 34 brain gets to help me out. My 34 year old self gets to watch with love and compassion as my 14 year old comes barreling into the picture unannounced. I will observe myself, see the hurt, fear and grief that I experienced before (as irrational as it seems now) and let it dissolve. The grip will loosen a little with each moment, with each encounter, and, once I own that I am good enough, it will disappear all together.
But, I can't rush the process. I can't intellectualize my way out of it. I can't stuff it back into the closet or sweep it under the rug and expect change. I get to own my story (as embarrassing as it is at times), and heal.
Beth
I'm 33 going on 34. But this past weekend I found myself feeling 14! And, not in a good way. If I took an objective snap shot of myself at 14, things would look pretty good. I was tall, slender, talented, smart, accomplished, well spoken. . . and horribly insecure. I just wanted to feel pretty. I just wanted to feel smart. I wanted people to gush over how wonderful I was. (Man, this is embarrassing to admit). I wanted to be the best, and I wanted to feel like the best. I wanted to feel like enough. But of course. . . I didn't.
So, on Sunday I hosted a preview of my dance company's newest show "Dance Adventures in Stripes and Dots" in order to get feedback from a small test audience and see how the show worked as a whole. The evening went well. People enjoyed the dancing. I was able to actually perform (last year I was injured, and I really haven't danced that hard for 2 years!). It was a success. And, my 34 year old brain new that. I knew that it was a huge deal that I was able to dance fully for the 55 minute show and not end up crippled in back pain! This was great!
And, yet. It wasn't enough.
The 14 year old inside me was not satisfied. I wanted people to gush over me! I wanted to feel amazing and beautiful! Instead I felt insecure. I wanted overwhelming praise, and I wanted it now.
Knowing something in our head doesn't made it easier to know it in our heart. The only way I know to process through these moments of old thinking is to feel them fully, to feel them in a way that I didn't let myself feel them when I was younger. And, then get to the root and dig it out.
In my case, I want people to praise me because I want proof that "I am good enough." I wanted people to tell me I amazed them so I could feel like I had met my goal and accomplished my dream. But, of course the reality is that no matter how good I am, the 14 year old belief set won't let me believe it. Somehow at that point in my life I had already convinced myself that only praise from others was going to convince me that I was good enough. I don't know exactly how I arrived at that conclusion (that part doesn't really matter), but the reality of those feeling were there.
And they will continue to live inside me until I change my 14 year old way of thinking and feeling. Until I believe I am enough (pretty enough, talented enough, creative enough) I will continue to encounter the irrational thinking of the 14 year old girl.
So, I get to start on the path by first confessing here in public that this is going on. It isn't pretty, and it isn't fun, but it is honest. And, by sharing this truth it demystifies it for my nervous system and its grasp on me loosens just a touch. This is where my 34 brain gets to help me out. My 34 year old self gets to watch with love and compassion as my 14 year old comes barreling into the picture unannounced. I will observe myself, see the hurt, fear and grief that I experienced before (as irrational as it seems now) and let it dissolve. The grip will loosen a little with each moment, with each encounter, and, once I own that I am good enough, it will disappear all together.
But, I can't rush the process. I can't intellectualize my way out of it. I can't stuff it back into the closet or sweep it under the rug and expect change. I get to own my story (as embarrassing as it is at times), and heal.
Beth
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Boom! . . . Flat on my back. . .
Well, in my last blog, I was my own personal champion for diving into the creative experience. And, I took the leap. . . and ended flat on my back. Literally.
Just as I was getting excited, ready to do the work!
I spent 3 days in bed with a horrible SI (Low back) injury, that kept me completely immobilized and out of work. Three whole days! I have never (ever in my 10 years of teaching) had to take 3 consecutive days off of work because of illness or injury. It was a first, and it was hard for me to swallow.
The first day, I was ok. I thought to myself "This is what it feels like to take care of myself. I can totally do this." The second day I said, "Well one more day won't be too bad, different classes will be missed. And, I just have to." Day three: "What is wrong with me? Three days? Oh no! What is everyone going to think?"
In many ways that sense of guilt hurt far more than the level 10 pain in my back. I worried that people were going to think all sorts of ugly negative things about me. I tortured myself about it for the entire time I was laying on my back, too injured to even hold up a book. I was certain that people were going to think that I wasn't trying hard enough to heal. That I wasn't being responsible and "pushing through" as truly motivated and reliable people do.
But, this was of course all in my head. The reality was I couldn't stand up or sit without intense pain. The reality was that no matter what anyone was thinking, I was physically unable to teach for three days. But, I couldn't let go of it. I was convinced of my doom and gloom as a professional dance instructor.
But, by the end of that third day of rest, I was finally able to stand without muscle spasm. On day four I gingerly went to teach, and everyone smiled, glad to see me, asked how I was feeling, expressed just how worried they were for me. One student even gave me a little Mexican incantation to help me heal. People weren't upset with me for being injured, they were compassionate. Far more compassionate than I was to myself.
A week later from the initial grab of injury. I am still healing, my pain has moved from a level 10 at the peaks to more of a constant 4. It still requires me to lay down and rest my back for long periods of the day, allowing the muscles to undo and the joint to heal. But now, I don't feel guilty taking that time to rest and heal. I am comforted by the reminder that people have shown me compassion and support. It is my job to honor them by showing the same gentle nurturing to myself. It doesn't have to be selfish; it doesn't have to be hurried. As Soto Zen Buddhist Susuki Roshi said, it is just "Things as it is."
And, I am worthy of healing just as I am.
So are you.
(PS The incorrect subject verb agreement in Susuki Roshi's quote is intentional. As a Budhhist he saw the multiplicity of the world as just aspects of everything as one. No duality. Hence we see plural, but the nature is singular. . . Pretty cool stuff).
Just as I was getting excited, ready to do the work!
I spent 3 days in bed with a horrible SI (Low back) injury, that kept me completely immobilized and out of work. Three whole days! I have never (ever in my 10 years of teaching) had to take 3 consecutive days off of work because of illness or injury. It was a first, and it was hard for me to swallow.
The first day, I was ok. I thought to myself "This is what it feels like to take care of myself. I can totally do this." The second day I said, "Well one more day won't be too bad, different classes will be missed. And, I just have to." Day three: "What is wrong with me? Three days? Oh no! What is everyone going to think?"
In many ways that sense of guilt hurt far more than the level 10 pain in my back. I worried that people were going to think all sorts of ugly negative things about me. I tortured myself about it for the entire time I was laying on my back, too injured to even hold up a book. I was certain that people were going to think that I wasn't trying hard enough to heal. That I wasn't being responsible and "pushing through" as truly motivated and reliable people do.
But, this was of course all in my head. The reality was I couldn't stand up or sit without intense pain. The reality was that no matter what anyone was thinking, I was physically unable to teach for three days. But, I couldn't let go of it. I was convinced of my doom and gloom as a professional dance instructor.
But, by the end of that third day of rest, I was finally able to stand without muscle spasm. On day four I gingerly went to teach, and everyone smiled, glad to see me, asked how I was feeling, expressed just how worried they were for me. One student even gave me a little Mexican incantation to help me heal. People weren't upset with me for being injured, they were compassionate. Far more compassionate than I was to myself.
A week later from the initial grab of injury. I am still healing, my pain has moved from a level 10 at the peaks to more of a constant 4. It still requires me to lay down and rest my back for long periods of the day, allowing the muscles to undo and the joint to heal. But now, I don't feel guilty taking that time to rest and heal. I am comforted by the reminder that people have shown me compassion and support. It is my job to honor them by showing the same gentle nurturing to myself. It doesn't have to be selfish; it doesn't have to be hurried. As Soto Zen Buddhist Susuki Roshi said, it is just "Things as it is."
And, I am worthy of healing just as I am.
So are you.
(PS The incorrect subject verb agreement in Susuki Roshi's quote is intentional. As a Budhhist he saw the multiplicity of the world as just aspects of everything as one. No duality. Hence we see plural, but the nature is singular. . . Pretty cool stuff).
Friday, March 22, 2013
Last Birthday in my Year to Live
Yes! I am 33!
And, I am still working through my Year to Live reflective practice loosely based on Stephen Levine's book.
I am roughly on day 186. Officially at the half way point week. And, it just so happens it is also my birthday. Yikes. That is a lot to take in.
So, I asked myself what I want to do for my "last" birthday, and I decided I want to make a dance for myself. A solo made for me right here and now, reflective of this time and place in my life. And, this time and place is not perfect as far as a dancer is concerned.
I have been working with a back injury for that past year. I have had a history of back issues as I have blogged about in the past (see About the Back and How to Heal), but this one has been the same injury (on and off again-- but mostly on) for the past year. Only recently, when I began a new mind body practice called CFR, have I started addressing the nature of my injury and the consequences of my habitual patterns. It has been an eye opening journey.
The cyclical history of my injury is such that I haven't created a dance for myself in a long time. I create pieces for others, and I have created dances in which I also perform as part of the ensemble (often in a limited way), but I haven't created something just for myself in over a year. And, primarily because of my back injury. Every time I made an effort to create something or to "get back into shape," I would reinjure myself. This was the cycle. So, I basically stopped making dances for me.
This year to live has reminded me that I should not wait for "complete healing" or "getting back into fighting shape" or "until I am able to recapture my lost technique." I can't wait.
The challenge is accepting the fact that this solo won't look like my former solos. It can't because my former solos in fact what lead me to injury (not them exactly but the former choices surrounding their creation). Also, I won't look like I did in my former solos. I have a different shape than I did before this sequence of injuries. Those are the facts.
The movement can't be the same. I am not the same. Whatever ever types of movement and choreographic sequences I made before are basically out of the question now. I can't wow people with my extension or leaps. I won't be able to roll and get up with speed or force. I have to make different choices. I have to make the effort to break the injurious habits and form new patterns in my way of moving, in my way of working and most importantly in my way of thinking.
I need to make a dance that will serve me now. One I can perform now. And, I have to trust that I can enjoy a dance created under these circumstances. And, it can be worthy of being performed for an audience. It is strangely scary. Like I am choreographing for the first time.
But, this needs to be my birthday gift to myself. Because in my Year to Live this is my last birthday, and it can't wait.
Dancing on,
Beth
And, I am still working through my Year to Live reflective practice loosely based on Stephen Levine's book.
I am roughly on day 186. Officially at the half way point week. And, it just so happens it is also my birthday. Yikes. That is a lot to take in.
So, I asked myself what I want to do for my "last" birthday, and I decided I want to make a dance for myself. A solo made for me right here and now, reflective of this time and place in my life. And, this time and place is not perfect as far as a dancer is concerned.
I have been working with a back injury for that past year. I have had a history of back issues as I have blogged about in the past (see About the Back and How to Heal), but this one has been the same injury (on and off again-- but mostly on) for the past year. Only recently, when I began a new mind body practice called CFR, have I started addressing the nature of my injury and the consequences of my habitual patterns. It has been an eye opening journey.
The cyclical history of my injury is such that I haven't created a dance for myself in a long time. I create pieces for others, and I have created dances in which I also perform as part of the ensemble (often in a limited way), but I haven't created something just for myself in over a year. And, primarily because of my back injury. Every time I made an effort to create something or to "get back into shape," I would reinjure myself. This was the cycle. So, I basically stopped making dances for me.
This year to live has reminded me that I should not wait for "complete healing" or "getting back into fighting shape" or "until I am able to recapture my lost technique." I can't wait.
The challenge is accepting the fact that this solo won't look like my former solos. It can't because my former solos in fact what lead me to injury (not them exactly but the former choices surrounding their creation). Also, I won't look like I did in my former solos. I have a different shape than I did before this sequence of injuries. Those are the facts.
The movement can't be the same. I am not the same. Whatever ever types of movement and choreographic sequences I made before are basically out of the question now. I can't wow people with my extension or leaps. I won't be able to roll and get up with speed or force. I have to make different choices. I have to make the effort to break the injurious habits and form new patterns in my way of moving, in my way of working and most importantly in my way of thinking.
I need to make a dance that will serve me now. One I can perform now. And, I have to trust that I can enjoy a dance created under these circumstances. And, it can be worthy of being performed for an audience. It is strangely scary. Like I am choreographing for the first time.
But, this needs to be my birthday gift to myself. Because in my Year to Live this is my last birthday, and it can't wait.
Dancing on,
Beth
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Does physical pain dictate your life? - Notes on CFR Therapy
My chronic back injury (on and off for my adult life) has played a
huge role in my quality of life and the shaping of my choices. At 32
years old, going on 33, I am sooooo ready to allow my back to NOT be a
deciding factor in the way I shape my life.
As a dance instructor, choreographer, dancer, the injuries in their many forms have been hard psychologically as well as physically. How do I do what I do when I can't move? Of course, we all live with things. Some people have addictions, some people fight their weight, some fight anxiety or depression, some are faced with learning disabilities or family obligations. The point is we all have "stuff" to deal with, and mine has most recently been my back pain.
I had been going to a chiropractor whom I really like and who has been very helpful in relieving my acute symptoms (immediate horrible pain). But, I wanted to explore something else. What if the pain never returned? What if my "back issues" became a non-thing?
Enter CFR. . .
I was referred by my chiropractor to a physical therapist who practices a technique called Cortical Field Re-education or CFR. It is a method of very, very simple movement explorations as a means of waking up the entire body to its movement potential. It focuses on the point of initiation and then the sequential paths to an action. In my case my entire mid and upper torso was frozen and shut down. My brain had shut off its awareness and sensation of the entire area in order to protect it at some point. Thus, my low back has been working overtime to compensate. Poor lower back! You were just trying to help me out!
After the first session I had, I felt completely disoriented and had a lot of discomfort and some pain in my low back, but I also noticed my mid back for the first time in years. I could feel the slightest twisting as I walked. My brain was waking up to my body.
I went into my second session in acute pain. I made the personal commitment that I would not trigger my symptoms for the duration of the 1 1/2 hour lesson. I moved VERY slowly and very small. But, at the end of the session, I was symptom free. Meaning I could walk, sit and lie down without symptoms-- if I was careful and didn't follow old patterns of overuse. This is when CFR hooked me.
The third session was a continued exploration of what I could do and how I could move without pain. I found it so interesting and rewarding to move my body with the single goal of being pain free. I am so trained from dance to "do the movement right" that I felt great relief in being able to move without performance expectations.
My most recent CFR experience was just on Saturday. It was a day-long intensive (8 hours). We worked through incredible twists, and shoulder openings and circles of the ribcage and pelvis. My midback was howling by the end. It was like I woke a monster that had been locked up for ages. The pain is not terrible, but the soreness is real and surprisingly deep, not the type you get from doing too many reps at the gym. It feels like I have wrung out the deepest and most subtle muscles possible. And, my low back is doing quite well. So. . .
I'm sticking with it. Because, I want to know what it is like to make my life decisions without the chatter of my back telling me what I can and can't do.
If you are interested in more of the scientific and nitty gritty info on CFR you can go to this general website. But I prefer my practitioner's website which I found very informative and easy to follow.
As a dance instructor, choreographer, dancer, the injuries in their many forms have been hard psychologically as well as physically. How do I do what I do when I can't move? Of course, we all live with things. Some people have addictions, some people fight their weight, some fight anxiety or depression, some are faced with learning disabilities or family obligations. The point is we all have "stuff" to deal with, and mine has most recently been my back pain.
I had been going to a chiropractor whom I really like and who has been very helpful in relieving my acute symptoms (immediate horrible pain). But, I wanted to explore something else. What if the pain never returned? What if my "back issues" became a non-thing?
Enter CFR. . .
I was referred by my chiropractor to a physical therapist who practices a technique called Cortical Field Re-education or CFR. It is a method of very, very simple movement explorations as a means of waking up the entire body to its movement potential. It focuses on the point of initiation and then the sequential paths to an action. In my case my entire mid and upper torso was frozen and shut down. My brain had shut off its awareness and sensation of the entire area in order to protect it at some point. Thus, my low back has been working overtime to compensate. Poor lower back! You were just trying to help me out!
After the first session I had, I felt completely disoriented and had a lot of discomfort and some pain in my low back, but I also noticed my mid back for the first time in years. I could feel the slightest twisting as I walked. My brain was waking up to my body.
I went into my second session in acute pain. I made the personal commitment that I would not trigger my symptoms for the duration of the 1 1/2 hour lesson. I moved VERY slowly and very small. But, at the end of the session, I was symptom free. Meaning I could walk, sit and lie down without symptoms-- if I was careful and didn't follow old patterns of overuse. This is when CFR hooked me.
The third session was a continued exploration of what I could do and how I could move without pain. I found it so interesting and rewarding to move my body with the single goal of being pain free. I am so trained from dance to "do the movement right" that I felt great relief in being able to move without performance expectations.
My most recent CFR experience was just on Saturday. It was a day-long intensive (8 hours). We worked through incredible twists, and shoulder openings and circles of the ribcage and pelvis. My midback was howling by the end. It was like I woke a monster that had been locked up for ages. The pain is not terrible, but the soreness is real and surprisingly deep, not the type you get from doing too many reps at the gym. It feels like I have wrung out the deepest and most subtle muscles possible. And, my low back is doing quite well. So. . .
I'm sticking with it. Because, I want to know what it is like to make my life decisions without the chatter of my back telling me what I can and can't do.
If you are interested in more of the scientific and nitty gritty info on CFR you can go to this general website. But I prefer my practitioner's website which I found very informative and easy to follow.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Denying the LIfe That Is - 287 Days Left
Of course, I remember the past 2 weeks. I actually did a lot! It involved Thanksgiving turkey, rehearsals, getting a cold, rainy days, and grading papers among other things.
But, this is my year to live! And, yesterday I had to come to terms with that fact that while I was living I had forgotten to rip off two weeks worth of days from my Year to Live Calendar! 2 weeks! Fourteen days! Gone.
I could have ripped them off all together and been done with it. I mean, I had been busy. I thought to myself: It was the holidays, I got sick, I was distracted, my back was injured. . .
True, but that is not the point. I didn't rip them off all at once in a stack.
I ripped them off one by one. Counting out 14 days of missed life.
But, I was living! Wasn't I??
Well, yes and no. I realized that while I was busy "living" and enduring colds, tough dental work appointments and an injury to my low back, I had forgotten to take note of each passing day, and I had let 2 weeks go by in a blink! I had been so good about ripping the pages off daily. I needed to figure out what had changed. Was I just because I was busier and more challenged?
No.
I realized that these past two weeks, starting with a re-aggravated lower back, I was denying the life that is. My life.
I was closing myself off (and losing days of my life) because I didn't like that I was "living" a life of pain. Better to ignore the whole thing, right?
No.
There will always be issues, there will always be pain. I was in denial of my current state of living and in so doing I was denying my life as a whole. Yet, as much as I know pain is a part of human life, going through days in pain is not easy. Intellectual understanding of pain doesn't make the pain go away. And, no amount of wishing it would heal faster will make it heal faster.
But seeing the white pages of the calendar dropping in the trash one by one was a wake up call that time will still pass whether I acknowledge it or not. So, if I am going to enjoy this "Year to Live" I need to wake up and not let an injury or a cold wipe away my days.
I see now that, somewhere in my brain I thought that not taking off the calendar sheets on these pain filled days would somehow magically make the world stop spinning and the days stop passing. But, that is not how time works. Back pain or no, today is the only thing that matters. I have to make the most of it (whatever that means to me today). So tonight when I rip off the date and watch number 287 float into the trash bin, I can feel good about my efforts to experience it all.
But, this is my year to live! And, yesterday I had to come to terms with that fact that while I was living I had forgotten to rip off two weeks worth of days from my Year to Live Calendar! 2 weeks! Fourteen days! Gone.
I could have ripped them off all together and been done with it. I mean, I had been busy. I thought to myself: It was the holidays, I got sick, I was distracted, my back was injured. . .
True, but that is not the point. I didn't rip them off all at once in a stack.
I ripped them off one by one. Counting out 14 days of missed life.
But, I was living! Wasn't I??
Well, yes and no. I realized that while I was busy "living" and enduring colds, tough dental work appointments and an injury to my low back, I had forgotten to take note of each passing day, and I had let 2 weeks go by in a blink! I had been so good about ripping the pages off daily. I needed to figure out what had changed. Was I just because I was busier and more challenged?
No.
I realized that these past two weeks, starting with a re-aggravated lower back, I was denying the life that is. My life.
I was closing myself off (and losing days of my life) because I didn't like that I was "living" a life of pain. Better to ignore the whole thing, right?
No.
There will always be issues, there will always be pain. I was in denial of my current state of living and in so doing I was denying my life as a whole. Yet, as much as I know pain is a part of human life, going through days in pain is not easy. Intellectual understanding of pain doesn't make the pain go away. And, no amount of wishing it would heal faster will make it heal faster.
But seeing the white pages of the calendar dropping in the trash one by one was a wake up call that time will still pass whether I acknowledge it or not. So, if I am going to enjoy this "Year to Live" I need to wake up and not let an injury or a cold wipe away my days.
I see now that, somewhere in my brain I thought that not taking off the calendar sheets on these pain filled days would somehow magically make the world stop spinning and the days stop passing. But, that is not how time works. Back pain or no, today is the only thing that matters. I have to make the most of it (whatever that means to me today). So tonight when I rip off the date and watch number 287 float into the trash bin, I can feel good about my efforts to experience it all.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
How to Heal
Megill & Company has its big Annual concert (2nd annual actually) on June 2nd. So I have been thinking a lot about it as a director. . . but also as a dancer.
As I have written previously, I have unfortunately suffered from (off-again on-again) chronic lower back pain... in the SI joint for those who know it (or have suffered a similar fate).
I have begun swimming again in preparation, because I need this to heal and I need to be conservative with my body while still keeping in shape. It is hard because my gut wants to walk, jog, take a yoga class, take a dance class, stretch, aerobics, anything. But, I have to do less. I have to limit my range of motion. Lessen the demand on my ligaments at the SI joint.
Ligaments are tough because they are like silly putty once they stretche they don't go back like rubber bands. A ligament may slowly, over time, recoil a little and become stable again, but the original tightness will not be had. Injury to a muscle is relatively easy to heal in that the muscle has fantastic blood flow and will heal nicely if tended with massage and easy activity and work. It can heal. Tendon and ligaments don't work that way. They are formed of connective tissue that is tightly formed to allow for strength and stability. When a ligament gets injured, it does not have the regenerative powers of muscle. It takes a lot of patience and a lot of time. And even then, it may never be the same. Potentially lax and unstable for years to come.
The Si joint is not supposed to move that much (if at all). It is connected by ligaments that most bodies will never notice in sensation. For many the pelvis feels like one unit-- solid. Not me. My pelvis has distinct parts, and I can feel the shifts that occur between the bones of the pelvis and the sacrum (base of the spine). I wish I couldn't, but I do.
But, this "woe is me" blog, is not meant to garner pity. Rather, it is my own reality check. After my second day of swimming, I see more clearly what I need to do and what I can NOT do.
First:
I can NOT stretch my hips. Hips pull on the back and that is no good for my overstretched ligaments.
I can NOT do high impact exercise. Not yet at least
I can NOT feel sorry for myself. And if I do, then I should ice because at least I can do that.
Second:
I can and NEED to keep swimming (its boring, and I feel like I am not really doing a whole lot because it is so low impact, but it does build my core and poses little to no risk of over stretching my SI)
I can and NEED to stop wishing my body were something else (someone else's)
I can and NEED to re-implement the boring stability exercises I know and hate to do.
I NEED to keep my eye on the prize. A wonderful performance June 2nd which doesn't render me incapacitated.
The problem with being injured is that you can't help but want to fix it. IMMEDIATELY. But, that is the lesson of injuries. How committed are you to healing? To the boring and the mundane in order to heal?
I have to commit. Wish me luck.
As I have written previously, I have unfortunately suffered from (off-again on-again) chronic lower back pain... in the SI joint for those who know it (or have suffered a similar fate).
I have begun swimming again in preparation, because I need this to heal and I need to be conservative with my body while still keeping in shape. It is hard because my gut wants to walk, jog, take a yoga class, take a dance class, stretch, aerobics, anything. But, I have to do less. I have to limit my range of motion. Lessen the demand on my ligaments at the SI joint.
Ligaments are tough because they are like silly putty once they stretche they don't go back like rubber bands. A ligament may slowly, over time, recoil a little and become stable again, but the original tightness will not be had. Injury to a muscle is relatively easy to heal in that the muscle has fantastic blood flow and will heal nicely if tended with massage and easy activity and work. It can heal. Tendon and ligaments don't work that way. They are formed of connective tissue that is tightly formed to allow for strength and stability. When a ligament gets injured, it does not have the regenerative powers of muscle. It takes a lot of patience and a lot of time. And even then, it may never be the same. Potentially lax and unstable for years to come.
The Si joint is not supposed to move that much (if at all). It is connected by ligaments that most bodies will never notice in sensation. For many the pelvis feels like one unit-- solid. Not me. My pelvis has distinct parts, and I can feel the shifts that occur between the bones of the pelvis and the sacrum (base of the spine). I wish I couldn't, but I do.
But, this "woe is me" blog, is not meant to garner pity. Rather, it is my own reality check. After my second day of swimming, I see more clearly what I need to do and what I can NOT do.
First:
I can NOT stretch my hips. Hips pull on the back and that is no good for my overstretched ligaments.
I can NOT do high impact exercise. Not yet at least
I can NOT feel sorry for myself. And if I do, then I should ice because at least I can do that.
Second:
I can and NEED to keep swimming (its boring, and I feel like I am not really doing a whole lot because it is so low impact, but it does build my core and poses little to no risk of over stretching my SI)
I can and NEED to stop wishing my body were something else (someone else's)
I can and NEED to re-implement the boring stability exercises I know and hate to do.
I NEED to keep my eye on the prize. A wonderful performance June 2nd which doesn't render me incapacitated.
The problem with being injured is that you can't help but want to fix it. IMMEDIATELY. But, that is the lesson of injuries. How committed are you to healing? To the boring and the mundane in order to heal?
I have to commit. Wish me luck.
Friday, February 10, 2012
The Challenge of Doing Less
Sometimes the solution to a problem is not doing more but doing less. But, Uggh! Why is not doing something so much harder than doing something?
The whole "less is more philosophy" is certainly a principle I fully embrace in my choreography, but as I have been explaining in past blogs, it is something I have been struggling to embrace in my daily life. And, now I see the same epidemic in nearly everyone around me. It seems everyone is doing too much and has a hard time accepting that not doing something is the healthier more balanced option.
For instance, a student came to me with an injury (the 3rd in a list of recent injuries) wondering what else she could do to help it heal. I had to explain that her body wasn't hurting because it needed her to do more for it, but rather than it needed her to do less. To give it a rest and allow it to heal on its own.
But, when you are a busy bee (like this student and I are), you are used to taking an active role in all aspects of your life. Therefore, choosing to refrain or become passive is a tough pill to swallow. If only there was a real "tough pill" to swallow! That would be easier than suffering doing nothing at all. Because then, at least, you would be doing something.
So, I asked her when she had time to rest. She said Saturday she had nothing. . . only three hours of rehearsal. ONLY 3 hours of rehearsal?!? What is the world coming to that 3 hours of challenging dancing is nothing?
You can't rush healing, whether it be physical, emotional or psychological. Yet, if you are like me you want a quick fix (or at least a guaranteed fix), like "take this supplement 3x a day and you will be better, do this stretch before and after each class and you will feel like new in approximately a day and half." But, instead, the prescription is to stop, quiet yourself, listen and wait.
Meditation is exactly this. The practice of doing less.
Next time you feel imbalanced ask yourself: Does this concern call for doing more or doing less?
Chances are the harder option (whether it be more or less) is probably the right one.
The whole "less is more philosophy" is certainly a principle I fully embrace in my choreography, but as I have been explaining in past blogs, it is something I have been struggling to embrace in my daily life. And, now I see the same epidemic in nearly everyone around me. It seems everyone is doing too much and has a hard time accepting that not doing something is the healthier more balanced option.
For instance, a student came to me with an injury (the 3rd in a list of recent injuries) wondering what else she could do to help it heal. I had to explain that her body wasn't hurting because it needed her to do more for it, but rather than it needed her to do less. To give it a rest and allow it to heal on its own.
But, when you are a busy bee (like this student and I are), you are used to taking an active role in all aspects of your life. Therefore, choosing to refrain or become passive is a tough pill to swallow. If only there was a real "tough pill" to swallow! That would be easier than suffering doing nothing at all. Because then, at least, you would be doing something.
So, I asked her when she had time to rest. She said Saturday she had nothing. . . only three hours of rehearsal. ONLY 3 hours of rehearsal?!? What is the world coming to that 3 hours of challenging dancing is nothing?
You can't rush healing, whether it be physical, emotional or psychological. Yet, if you are like me you want a quick fix (or at least a guaranteed fix), like "take this supplement 3x a day and you will be better, do this stretch before and after each class and you will feel like new in approximately a day and half." But, instead, the prescription is to stop, quiet yourself, listen and wait.
Meditation is exactly this. The practice of doing less.
Next time you feel imbalanced ask yourself: Does this concern call for doing more or doing less?
Chances are the harder option (whether it be more or less) is probably the right one.
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