Today I rolled out my yoga mat. For the first time in a long time.
Yoga for me has been a wonderful physical and spiritual practice through our the years. But, since my horrendous back injury (over a year ago), it has been near absent in my life. I have always incorporated yoga into my dance warm ups, but laying out the yoga mat for an explicit practice has not been part of my routine.
I rolled it out today, because being on vacation I was tired of the bike machine down in the gym and needed a little bit of variety. Hence, the mat.
I didn't know what my practice would look like. I didn't know how it would go after so much time. More specifically I didn't know how I would go (or be). As I lay folded in child's pose, I wondered exactly this.
How am I? We use the question to mean the state in which we exist. How are you? I'm fine. I'm ok. I'm great! I'm wretched. But, how is not merely about a state of being. It is also describes the way we exist. The way we do things. The way we navigate the world and our experiences.
How do I do it?
How would I know?
How should I respond?
How am I standing? How am I lunging, folding, reaching, sitting? What is the way I do what I do?
Becoming aware of who we are is really becoming aware of how we are. And, being aware means asking ourselves this question at every turn. How do I eat my breakfast? How do I respond to an upset friend, family member, student?
But, being aware is just the first step. Being how you are (That's just how I am!) is not an excuse for poor behavior or unskillful practices. We have the ability to change how we are in the world. That is the sweetness of being human. We get to choose whether our behaviors or actions serve us or not. The new year is a time when many people, who may otherwise not be aware of how they are, look at themselves in the mirror and ask the million dollar question. How am I?
The winter solstice is behind us. The days will now get longer, and we will come closer to the sun with each passing moment. We have the chance to use this time to examine how we are in this world. How we are with each other. How we are on the yoga mat or walking down the street.
This time of quiet, of darkness and reflection is key to really understanding our nature.
But, the real work comes later. Discovering how we are is not a one shot deal. We get to discover how we are every single day we walk this earth. We get to discover how we are in all that we do.
So the next time you are asked How are you? Take a moment and ask yourself the deeper question of awareness so that you can continue the practice of self discovery with each step, with each moment.
May you have a Happy New Year!
Beth
Showing posts with label self discovery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label self discovery. Show all posts
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
My Life is Over.
I am now dead.
At least according to my Year to Live practice. I started this reflective and meditative practice a year ago with my spirituality group. I am the youngest of the group, and there was a moment in which I wondered: Am I doing this prematurely? But, that was just fear rearing its ugly head. I quickly began to feel deep down in my core what I always knew in my head: There is no guarantee on time. And, all we have is today. Right here, right now. To underscore the end of my Year to Live practice, I just learned of a 23 year old friend who passed away last week. This seems to offer me my final lesson, this is my final wake up call to pay attention to my life with unwavering conviction.
The Year to Live practice is based on Steven Levine's book with the same title. We started with a contemplation of our life's value, moved into a study of death and the death experience, and finally ended with the practice of letting go and transitioning. As choreographer Doris Humphrey put it: Movement is the "arc between two deaths." And, this year of practice has now come to its end, to its own death although we are still alive. Our group will be hosting a FUN-eral in a few weeks to celebrate our lives. But, the lessons we learned along the way we will carry with us.
How has it changed me? First, I wear my clothes. See my former blog on my strange need to "save" things for when they were deserved. It seems like a silly thing to note, but this practice of wearing and enjoying what I already have in my possession was a huge learning curve for me. It was a metaphor for giving myself permission to enjoy all aspects of my life TODAY!
Secondly, I learned what it really meant to put myself first. This came in the form of healing my back, or more accurately starting down the path to long term physical health and mental well being from which I am pleased to have already noticed meaningful results. The road out of physical pain was rocky and frustrating, but for the first time I am actually feeling optimistic about my back and my future in movement.
I could go on to list other things, but that will just sound and feel like bragging which is not the point at all! In fact, the real lesson wasn't in achievement. I was in the opposite of an achievement. It came in the acceptance of things as they are and in accepting myself as I am. There is still a boatload of work to be done in this area, but I see the value in the work. I see now how cultivating a stable sense of self worth changes how I experience everything in life.
Self love always seems like a farce to me. I didn't think it really existed. Or rather that I shouldn't buy into it because i either didn't deserve it or that it would lead to failure. I thought it was best to go through life by self deprecating oneself and motivating oneself with shame, hatred and fear. I mean it worked for a while! Ha! And, sometimes I still catch myself leading this life. But, after a Year to Live and all of the work I have done to more closely understand my significance, my inherent value and my legacy, I have become clearer in all of my daily interactions (both with others and myself).
What am I really here to do? How do I really want to be?
We finished the year by writing a personal mission statement. I extended that to include a personal set of values by which I want to live my life.
Mission Statement: I vow to support the personal and spiritual growth of all beings by being honest and authentic in all that I do as a leader, teacher, partner, dancer and artist. I promise to practice and teach a life of awareness and wisdom, through movement, expression, and human connection.
Values:
There is a sweetness in life and when you are ripping off the pages of YtoL calendar and getting closer to zero each and everyday, you can find the true sweetness real fast. There is no time for self delusion. Honesty is like a bullet train headed straight into the meaning of life.
For me, I realized with even greater certainty that dance is not the end goal. It is a mere a vehicle for me. It is a tool to use for greater self awareness and growth. There is a richness in movement that connects me into the present moment, the lasting questions and the ever present divine. My real goal in life is to share the process of discovery, self acceptance, personal growth and authenticity with others. Dance just helps me do that.
I would recommend that anyone willing to enter into a YtoL practice do so. But, I recommend you do it in a group with people who are going to hold you to it, because the cycle of frustration, uncertainty, hope, fear, anger and acceptance is a wild one and having a great sangha (community) by your side is essential.
There is work yet to be done. Maybe I will do this again in 10 years or 20 or 40. But, for now, I will take to heart the lessons I learned and do my best to stay true to my experience of life and love.
Want to read more of my Year to Live related blogs?
Follow through this sequence below.
At least according to my Year to Live practice. I started this reflective and meditative practice a year ago with my spirituality group. I am the youngest of the group, and there was a moment in which I wondered: Am I doing this prematurely? But, that was just fear rearing its ugly head. I quickly began to feel deep down in my core what I always knew in my head: There is no guarantee on time. And, all we have is today. Right here, right now. To underscore the end of my Year to Live practice, I just learned of a 23 year old friend who passed away last week. This seems to offer me my final lesson, this is my final wake up call to pay attention to my life with unwavering conviction.
The Year to Live practice is based on Steven Levine's book with the same title. We started with a contemplation of our life's value, moved into a study of death and the death experience, and finally ended with the practice of letting go and transitioning. As choreographer Doris Humphrey put it: Movement is the "arc between two deaths." And, this year of practice has now come to its end, to its own death although we are still alive. Our group will be hosting a FUN-eral in a few weeks to celebrate our lives. But, the lessons we learned along the way we will carry with us.
How has it changed me? First, I wear my clothes. See my former blog on my strange need to "save" things for when they were deserved. It seems like a silly thing to note, but this practice of wearing and enjoying what I already have in my possession was a huge learning curve for me. It was a metaphor for giving myself permission to enjoy all aspects of my life TODAY!
Secondly, I learned what it really meant to put myself first. This came in the form of healing my back, or more accurately starting down the path to long term physical health and mental well being from which I am pleased to have already noticed meaningful results. The road out of physical pain was rocky and frustrating, but for the first time I am actually feeling optimistic about my back and my future in movement.
I could go on to list other things, but that will just sound and feel like bragging which is not the point at all! In fact, the real lesson wasn't in achievement. I was in the opposite of an achievement. It came in the acceptance of things as they are and in accepting myself as I am. There is still a boatload of work to be done in this area, but I see the value in the work. I see now how cultivating a stable sense of self worth changes how I experience everything in life.
Self love always seems like a farce to me. I didn't think it really existed. Or rather that I shouldn't buy into it because i either didn't deserve it or that it would lead to failure. I thought it was best to go through life by self deprecating oneself and motivating oneself with shame, hatred and fear. I mean it worked for a while! Ha! And, sometimes I still catch myself leading this life. But, after a Year to Live and all of the work I have done to more closely understand my significance, my inherent value and my legacy, I have become clearer in all of my daily interactions (both with others and myself).
What am I really here to do? How do I really want to be?
We finished the year by writing a personal mission statement. I extended that to include a personal set of values by which I want to live my life.
Mission Statement: I vow to support the personal and spiritual growth of all beings by being honest and authentic in all that I do as a leader, teacher, partner, dancer and artist. I promise to practice and teach a life of awareness and wisdom, through movement, expression, and human connection.
Values:
- Respect
- Relationships
- Support and Service
- Artistic Process
- Play and Curiosity
- Non-Judgement
- Holistic Balance
There is a sweetness in life and when you are ripping off the pages of YtoL calendar and getting closer to zero each and everyday, you can find the true sweetness real fast. There is no time for self delusion. Honesty is like a bullet train headed straight into the meaning of life.
For me, I realized with even greater certainty that dance is not the end goal. It is a mere a vehicle for me. It is a tool to use for greater self awareness and growth. There is a richness in movement that connects me into the present moment, the lasting questions and the ever present divine. My real goal in life is to share the process of discovery, self acceptance, personal growth and authenticity with others. Dance just helps me do that.
I would recommend that anyone willing to enter into a YtoL practice do so. But, I recommend you do it in a group with people who are going to hold you to it, because the cycle of frustration, uncertainty, hope, fear, anger and acceptance is a wild one and having a great sangha (community) by your side is essential.
There is work yet to be done. Maybe I will do this again in 10 years or 20 or 40. But, for now, I will take to heart the lessons I learned and do my best to stay true to my experience of life and love.
Want to read more of my Year to Live related blogs?
Follow through this sequence below.
- A Year to Live - 323 Days Left
- A Year to Live: Stones for Change
- Denying the Life That Is - 287 Days Left
- Are You Vain?
- Last Birthday in My Year to Live
- Boom. . . Flat on my Back
- Finding Success
- 94 Days to Live!
- Save the Blue Sweater!
- Notes from Puebla
- What do the numbers 101, 35 and 10,339 have in common?
Friday, June 28, 2013
Teaching: by Beth Megill
I often find myself wanting to be everything to everyone as a dance teacher. But, of course, not only is that impossible, but it is also exhausting.
As a teacher I am continually changing and updating my techniques, approaches, methods, tools and ideas. I continue to search for the right balance between tuning into student needs/wants and creating innovative experiences for those students to be challenged.
I mistakenly believe that I can be/want to be/should be the best teacher in the entire world! And, if I am not, then I have failed! Ha! That is just crazy talk. But, deep down that is the belief under which I am operating.
I know it is crazy. But, emotional belief sets don't see the line between realistic and crazy. So, I get worried. One minute I worry that I am not enough of a physical challenge, and the next I worry that my material is totally inaccessible and too hard. I worry that I am too boring, then I worry that I am not taking enough time to slow down and go deep. I worry that other teachers push harder, then I worry that I am pushing them too hard and risking injury. I am a mess.
It's no wonder I often leave the dance classroom feeling like I have in someway fallen short of expectation. I have set up demands and conditions for myself that are outright contradictory and therefore impossible.
I can't be everything.
And I hate to break it to you... But, you can't be everything either.
We are just as we are. And, I am ready to let that be ok.
So what type of a teacher am I?
Curious: I love curiosity. I am continually curious about the way the body moves, the way we think, the way we feel, and how/why we create art. I don't have all the answers, and I am suspicious of people who think they do have all the answers. I appreciate students who are willing to be curious with me.
Concerned: I am very concerned for the physical and psychological health of my students. I have suffered so many injuries of the years, that I can't/won't push people. If people want a drill sargeant, I am NOT the teacher for you. I would rather you think, then try, then rest, then re-think, and try again. Fatigue is a real hazzard for dancers, and I just am not willing to risk it.
Playful: I like to have fun. I have serious moments, but my love of dance really comes out when I am joyful in movement. I like to smile and be silly in most circumstances. What I notice is that this takes me out of "work" mode and into play mode. So, class starts to feel less like a "technique" class and more like a celebration.
Varied: You really never know what you will get with me. One day we might meditate, the next day we might make dances, the next we might work on alignment, the next work on fuettes. I worry that I am somehow NOT consistent enough, but I am learning to just accept that this is what I love about dance, that there are so many facets to the surface of the diamond of dance.
Guiding: I consider myself a guiding teacher rather than a driving teacher. This is tough, because it requires that the students drive their learning. I realize that this is hard for many students, and can be exhausting. Sometimes, we just want to be told what to do. I have also felt that way as a student! But, it is not in my nature to tell you what to do. I will ask you to try it, then you get to decide.
Nerdy: I am a total nerd. I know many dancers who love dance because it allows their kinesthetic brain to take over for 2 hours. I don't exactly work that way. I am interested in cultivating thinking dancers. Dancers who listen to their bodies, make connections between their inner world and the outer world. I get jazzed about dance theory. It opens up a horizon filled with movement opportunities. I believe in dance as a creative and intellectual process as much as a kinesthetic adventure.
Interested in Personal Growth: Sometimes I wonder whether it is dance that I love teaching or whether it is quality of life. The truth is one feeds the other. Dance is a vehicle for life-learning about who we are, how we operate in the world and how we express ourselves (to others and to ourselves). Dance is a vulnerable activity in which we are completely exposed in our strengths and weaknesses (physical and mental). It incorporates so many of the senses and forms of intelligence, it is the perfect tool for self reflection on all fronts. I don't really care how high you kick your leg or how many turns you can do. I might be able help you do both better, but that is just mechanics.
A good friend and fellow dance instructor said to me the other day "I am more of a trainer and you are more of an educator." I have been thinking a lot about that statement. I understand what he meant, but it forced me to ask myself, what type of teacher am I and what type of teacher do I want to be? What am I teaching through dance? And, which elements might I be missing in my current classes?
I find my friends word choice so interesting. . . He is right in that, I don't use the word trainer for what I do -- in fact I don't think I ever have ever used train for the learning process in dance. I have never asked a someone to come "train with me." Or, say "Yes, that dancer trained under me." Interesting. I am just now thinking about this for the first time. I might say that student "studied with me." Maybe. But mostly I say I have "worked with a student" Worked WITH, because I ask the students to work 100% of the time; they do the work, with me, side by side. They make the discoveries; they make the connections; they ask the questions of themselves and others.
I have found that I learn things when I need to learn them. . . not before. So, I trust that the students will ask the questions when they are ready for the answers. And, to take it one step further, I believe they need to find the answers for themselves 90% or the time!
I am not sure, if this is the best approach. I am not sure what this means in terms of changing student's lives and their dance world. I am not sure of many things at the moment. But, I do know that I have to stop trying to be everything to every student who walks in the door. It just doesn't work that way. I have to trust myself, teaching what feels right. And, I need to trust that those students who want to learn what I have to offer will be there, and that I can walk with them on their journey of learning and learn even more about dance and myself along the way.
Beth
As a teacher I am continually changing and updating my techniques, approaches, methods, tools and ideas. I continue to search for the right balance between tuning into student needs/wants and creating innovative experiences for those students to be challenged.
I mistakenly believe that I can be/want to be/should be the best teacher in the entire world! And, if I am not, then I have failed! Ha! That is just crazy talk. But, deep down that is the belief under which I am operating.
I know it is crazy. But, emotional belief sets don't see the line between realistic and crazy. So, I get worried. One minute I worry that I am not enough of a physical challenge, and the next I worry that my material is totally inaccessible and too hard. I worry that I am too boring, then I worry that I am not taking enough time to slow down and go deep. I worry that other teachers push harder, then I worry that I am pushing them too hard and risking injury. I am a mess.
It's no wonder I often leave the dance classroom feeling like I have in someway fallen short of expectation. I have set up demands and conditions for myself that are outright contradictory and therefore impossible.
I can't be everything.
And I hate to break it to you... But, you can't be everything either.
We are just as we are. And, I am ready to let that be ok.
So what type of a teacher am I?
Curious: I love curiosity. I am continually curious about the way the body moves, the way we think, the way we feel, and how/why we create art. I don't have all the answers, and I am suspicious of people who think they do have all the answers. I appreciate students who are willing to be curious with me.
Concerned: I am very concerned for the physical and psychological health of my students. I have suffered so many injuries of the years, that I can't/won't push people. If people want a drill sargeant, I am NOT the teacher for you. I would rather you think, then try, then rest, then re-think, and try again. Fatigue is a real hazzard for dancers, and I just am not willing to risk it.
Playful: I like to have fun. I have serious moments, but my love of dance really comes out when I am joyful in movement. I like to smile and be silly in most circumstances. What I notice is that this takes me out of "work" mode and into play mode. So, class starts to feel less like a "technique" class and more like a celebration.
Varied: You really never know what you will get with me. One day we might meditate, the next day we might make dances, the next we might work on alignment, the next work on fuettes. I worry that I am somehow NOT consistent enough, but I am learning to just accept that this is what I love about dance, that there are so many facets to the surface of the diamond of dance.
Guiding: I consider myself a guiding teacher rather than a driving teacher. This is tough, because it requires that the students drive their learning. I realize that this is hard for many students, and can be exhausting. Sometimes, we just want to be told what to do. I have also felt that way as a student! But, it is not in my nature to tell you what to do. I will ask you to try it, then you get to decide.
Nerdy: I am a total nerd. I know many dancers who love dance because it allows their kinesthetic brain to take over for 2 hours. I don't exactly work that way. I am interested in cultivating thinking dancers. Dancers who listen to their bodies, make connections between their inner world and the outer world. I get jazzed about dance theory. It opens up a horizon filled with movement opportunities. I believe in dance as a creative and intellectual process as much as a kinesthetic adventure.
Interested in Personal Growth: Sometimes I wonder whether it is dance that I love teaching or whether it is quality of life. The truth is one feeds the other. Dance is a vehicle for life-learning about who we are, how we operate in the world and how we express ourselves (to others and to ourselves). Dance is a vulnerable activity in which we are completely exposed in our strengths and weaknesses (physical and mental). It incorporates so many of the senses and forms of intelligence, it is the perfect tool for self reflection on all fronts. I don't really care how high you kick your leg or how many turns you can do. I might be able help you do both better, but that is just mechanics.
A good friend and fellow dance instructor said to me the other day "I am more of a trainer and you are more of an educator." I have been thinking a lot about that statement. I understand what he meant, but it forced me to ask myself, what type of teacher am I and what type of teacher do I want to be? What am I teaching through dance? And, which elements might I be missing in my current classes?
I find my friends word choice so interesting. . . He is right in that, I don't use the word trainer for what I do -- in fact I don't think I ever have ever used train for the learning process in dance. I have never asked a someone to come "train with me." Or, say "Yes, that dancer trained under me." Interesting. I am just now thinking about this for the first time. I might say that student "studied with me." Maybe. But mostly I say I have "worked with a student" Worked WITH, because I ask the students to work 100% of the time; they do the work, with me, side by side. They make the discoveries; they make the connections; they ask the questions of themselves and others.
I have found that I learn things when I need to learn them. . . not before. So, I trust that the students will ask the questions when they are ready for the answers. And, to take it one step further, I believe they need to find the answers for themselves 90% or the time!
I am not sure, if this is the best approach. I am not sure what this means in terms of changing student's lives and their dance world. I am not sure of many things at the moment. But, I do know that I have to stop trying to be everything to every student who walks in the door. It just doesn't work that way. I have to trust myself, teaching what feels right. And, I need to trust that those students who want to learn what I have to offer will be there, and that I can walk with them on their journey of learning and learn even more about dance and myself along the way.
Beth
Friday, March 1, 2013
Giving Yourself Permission
Yes, my title says "dance instructor" but studying the arts is so much more than than. For me the dance classroom is a place students can discover life.
I've been on a bit of a tear recently: seeing the varied injustices in the dance world, the bad habits, the unhealthy behaviors and negative self images. But, rather than get angry, I have decided to combat it one class at a time. I can't let it get me down, because these struggles are at the heart life learning. The arts really are our forum for self discovery.
How we are (exist, behave, think, work, play) in the dance classroom is reflective of how we are in the rest of our lives. If you are hard on yourself in dance class, you are likely hard on yourself in all other aspects of your "life performance." If you use dance as an "escape," what are you trying to escape? If you stop yourself from trying for fear of failure, how does that exist in your home life, school life, relationships?
I had a student if my office who was suffering from lack of confidence and had started berating himself continually in class. He identified frustration with executing a tricky turn (appropriately called a lame duck-- oh the irony).
And I asked him the following series of questions:
What if you gave yourself permission to struggle with that turn?
What would that feel like?
What would that look like?
What is the worst that would happen?
How can you give yourself permission to go at your own pace, to honor your personal growth and your personal needs?
Big questions, and of course much deeper than actually performing this stinky little turn! Dance is not about the turn, dance is about your approach to life. Can we choose to cultivate healthy behaviors and thoughts in the dance class. Can we give ourselves compassion rather than self inflicted pain? Can we let go of the outcome and enjoy the process?
Of course, it will take practice. And, it should. We need to practice healthier thoughts, healthier views on learning. Can we confront challenges with self compassion? A generous spirit and love?
So, that is my motto for the weekend. As I prepare to enter the world that is the Rogue Festival in Fresno, I ask myself how can I let others know that they have permission? Permission to make healthy choices that will foster their growth and allows them to blossom.
Of course, the answer is simple I have to start with giving myself permission. So I declare today, that I give myself permission to let go of control. I grant myself freedom from expectations. I give myself permission to simply go along with the ride, to speak and dance only from the heart and to see what happens.
I've been on a bit of a tear recently: seeing the varied injustices in the dance world, the bad habits, the unhealthy behaviors and negative self images. But, rather than get angry, I have decided to combat it one class at a time. I can't let it get me down, because these struggles are at the heart life learning. The arts really are our forum for self discovery.
How we are (exist, behave, think, work, play) in the dance classroom is reflective of how we are in the rest of our lives. If you are hard on yourself in dance class, you are likely hard on yourself in all other aspects of your "life performance." If you use dance as an "escape," what are you trying to escape? If you stop yourself from trying for fear of failure, how does that exist in your home life, school life, relationships?
I had a student if my office who was suffering from lack of confidence and had started berating himself continually in class. He identified frustration with executing a tricky turn (appropriately called a lame duck-- oh the irony).
And I asked him the following series of questions:
What if you gave yourself permission to struggle with that turn?
What would that feel like?
What would that look like?
What is the worst that would happen?
How can you give yourself permission to go at your own pace, to honor your personal growth and your personal needs?
Big questions, and of course much deeper than actually performing this stinky little turn! Dance is not about the turn, dance is about your approach to life. Can we choose to cultivate healthy behaviors and thoughts in the dance class. Can we give ourselves compassion rather than self inflicted pain? Can we let go of the outcome and enjoy the process?
Of course, it will take practice. And, it should. We need to practice healthier thoughts, healthier views on learning. Can we confront challenges with self compassion? A generous spirit and love?
So, that is my motto for the weekend. As I prepare to enter the world that is the Rogue Festival in Fresno, I ask myself how can I let others know that they have permission? Permission to make healthy choices that will foster their growth and allows them to blossom.
Of course, the answer is simple I have to start with giving myself permission. So I declare today, that I give myself permission to let go of control. I grant myself freedom from expectations. I give myself permission to simply go along with the ride, to speak and dance only from the heart and to see what happens.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
A Year to Live - Stones for Change
Of course changing habits is hard! There are a million books written on the subject. I've probably read at least 20 of them over the past 10 years. I like the books. They give me hope that things can change. They make it seem possible.
But, merely reading the books doesn't help.
The only way to make change is to practice.
So, I devised a system to help me keep track of my progress. But this system is a little different, because it sits in front of me everyday on my coffee table as a reminder. A physical 3-dimensional reminder that I am on a path to change. It looks like this. . .
Yes, bowls filled with stones!
Here is the premise: I started with 44 stones in my Growth Bowl. This visually represents the practice I need to accomplish to make the changes I want to make. When I practice good behaviors I transfer a stone from the Growth Bowl to the Success Bowl*.
In my case, I have chosen 3 ways to earn a stone.
1. I can eat at home the whole day to save money and make healthier choices.
2. I can go to the gym for cardio.
3. I can take a walk around the High Road (the 1 1/2 mile loop around the Brandeis Bardin Campus where I live).
But! The stones can go both ways! If I exhibit less healthy behaviors, I have to return a stone to the Growth Bowl (reminding me I have more practice to do). However, the key is not to punish myself if I make a poor choice, but to recognize that my choices, both healthy and unhealthy, have a cumulative effect, and that I am looking for the overall success.
I "lose" a stone a few ways:
1. I eat out more than 1x a day. (3 meals out = 2 stones!)
2. I eat a gluttonous amount. (usually because I eat while I'm tired or stressed out)
3. I eat more than one sweet a day.
For me this practice is all about moderation and the visual representation that I am making more healthy choices than unhealthy ones. The result of course gives me confidence that I can make changes and the changes make me feel good.
The best lesson is the act of taking a moment to pause and think before I make a decision. Do I really want to spend money eating out? Do I really want that second brownie? Will taking a walk before bed reduce my stress level? Of course, I know the answer, but this holds me accountable to my value set.
Earning stones is my way of practicing awareness in my life and learning to be mindful of how I want to exist in the world. My stones have to do with living a healthy lifestyle in the areas where I think I need growth, but this practices could be done with any behavior. My husband has his own set of stones (in white bowls) and doing it together is fun. Some days I earn more stones than he does and other days he earns more than I do. But, it encourages us both to stay awake and alert of our actions as we go through our days.
We also will gift each other a stone for exceptional behavior that is not on the list. For instance, if he helps a friend with yard work or I have a particularly productive dance rehearsal. This allows us to be flexible in our growth and see all aspects of our lives through the mindful lens.
Today I have earned 3 stones.
1. 20 min Yoga in the morning
2. Afternoon walk around the High Road
3. Eating only fresh foods at home!
*Note: I think it is key that the terminology of the bowls be positive on both sides. Growth gives me hope that I can grow to change. If I labeled it "Bad" I would likely abandon ship-- Just writing about it gives me a heavy heart. Think positive for lasting change!
Side note: Why 44 stones? Because we only had 88 on hand so we divided them equally.
But, merely reading the books doesn't help.
The only way to make change is to practice.
So, I devised a system to help me keep track of my progress. But this system is a little different, because it sits in front of me everyday on my coffee table as a reminder. A physical 3-dimensional reminder that I am on a path to change. It looks like this. . .
Yes, bowls filled with stones!
Here is the premise: I started with 44 stones in my Growth Bowl. This visually represents the practice I need to accomplish to make the changes I want to make. When I practice good behaviors I transfer a stone from the Growth Bowl to the Success Bowl*.
In my case, I have chosen 3 ways to earn a stone.
1. I can eat at home the whole day to save money and make healthier choices.
2. I can go to the gym for cardio.
3. I can take a walk around the High Road (the 1 1/2 mile loop around the Brandeis Bardin Campus where I live).
But! The stones can go both ways! If I exhibit less healthy behaviors, I have to return a stone to the Growth Bowl (reminding me I have more practice to do). However, the key is not to punish myself if I make a poor choice, but to recognize that my choices, both healthy and unhealthy, have a cumulative effect, and that I am looking for the overall success.
I "lose" a stone a few ways:
1. I eat out more than 1x a day. (3 meals out = 2 stones!)
2. I eat a gluttonous amount. (usually because I eat while I'm tired or stressed out)
3. I eat more than one sweet a day.
For me this practice is all about moderation and the visual representation that I am making more healthy choices than unhealthy ones. The result of course gives me confidence that I can make changes and the changes make me feel good.
The best lesson is the act of taking a moment to pause and think before I make a decision. Do I really want to spend money eating out? Do I really want that second brownie? Will taking a walk before bed reduce my stress level? Of course, I know the answer, but this holds me accountable to my value set.
Earning stones is my way of practicing awareness in my life and learning to be mindful of how I want to exist in the world. My stones have to do with living a healthy lifestyle in the areas where I think I need growth, but this practices could be done with any behavior. My husband has his own set of stones (in white bowls) and doing it together is fun. Some days I earn more stones than he does and other days he earns more than I do. But, it encourages us both to stay awake and alert of our actions as we go through our days.
We also will gift each other a stone for exceptional behavior that is not on the list. For instance, if he helps a friend with yard work or I have a particularly productive dance rehearsal. This allows us to be flexible in our growth and see all aspects of our lives through the mindful lens.
Today I have earned 3 stones.
1. 20 min Yoga in the morning
2. Afternoon walk around the High Road
3. Eating only fresh foods at home!
*Note: I think it is key that the terminology of the bowls be positive on both sides. Growth gives me hope that I can grow to change. If I labeled it "Bad" I would likely abandon ship-- Just writing about it gives me a heavy heart. Think positive for lasting change!
Side note: Why 44 stones? Because we only had 88 on hand so we divided them equally.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
A Year to Live - 323 Days Left
Don't worry! I am not ill, and I hopefully have many, many more years to live.
But, what if I didn't? What if this was my last November, my last Channukah, Christmas, New Years, Birthday. . . ? I have started a practice with my spirituality group called "A Year To Live" inspired by Stephen Levine's book with the same name. Of course we are doing it our Buddhist inspired way, but the essential questions remain the same.
How can I live my life to the fullest? . . . What does that even mean?
I started my year to live on Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, and I am now down to 323 days left. It's been a while since I have posted to this blog because this first month has been a doosey as I have reorganized my thinking, my approach to life and in some ways the contents of my life.
I started by calculating the total hours it would take for me to do everything I want to do in a week. I turns out I would need some 121 hours a week (and that was without allotting time for meals or family). Alas, I am only awake approximately 105 hours a week. So, therein was the first problem I identified in my quality of life. I wanted to do too many things and in result everything suffered and most of all I suffered. I was losing integrity. And, fast.
So I made the difficult cuts to things I enjoyed in my life but just didn't have time for. Sadly, my yoga membership and my participation in the Razor Babes was among them. But, I simply couldn't live the rest of my "year to live" feeling overwhelmed and generally disappointed in myself for not being able to accomplish everything I wanted to in a week. I was doomed to failure, by the mere math of there not being enough waking hours!
But, simplifying was just the first step. The "year to live" perspective has permeated most of my daily decisions. Now I find myself asking how I want to live my life starting with the here and now.
How do I want this moment to be? To feel?
How do I want this evening to be?
This day? This week?
The good news is that I believe I am on track with most of my life decisions. I love teaching, I love creating dances and I love learning. I have loving relationships with my husband and family. In general, I am living the way I want to live in the big scheme of things. But, the little stuff is what gets me from time to time. Getting caught up in the illusions that cause anxiety. The demands of the moment that feel like life and death, but really are trivial, silly or simply not worth my time.
This practice is, however, not as simple as it seems. It is often hard to see the truth of the situation, to dig past the eye catching details of the moment and see the essentials of life as it is. I still have bad days. I still have moments of insecurity and uncertainty. But, this practice has already changed my attitude toward myself, others and the world.
I won't last forever; no one will. This too shall pass. I shall pass. The joys, the suffering, the clarity, the confusion, the life, the death. It is all transient.
So, what do we make of the here and now?
The present. The gift of being present.
But, what if I didn't? What if this was my last November, my last Channukah, Christmas, New Years, Birthday. . . ? I have started a practice with my spirituality group called "A Year To Live" inspired by Stephen Levine's book with the same name. Of course we are doing it our Buddhist inspired way, but the essential questions remain the same.
How can I live my life to the fullest? . . . What does that even mean?
I started my year to live on Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, and I am now down to 323 days left. It's been a while since I have posted to this blog because this first month has been a doosey as I have reorganized my thinking, my approach to life and in some ways the contents of my life.
I started by calculating the total hours it would take for me to do everything I want to do in a week. I turns out I would need some 121 hours a week (and that was without allotting time for meals or family). Alas, I am only awake approximately 105 hours a week. So, therein was the first problem I identified in my quality of life. I wanted to do too many things and in result everything suffered and most of all I suffered. I was losing integrity. And, fast.
So I made the difficult cuts to things I enjoyed in my life but just didn't have time for. Sadly, my yoga membership and my participation in the Razor Babes was among them. But, I simply couldn't live the rest of my "year to live" feeling overwhelmed and generally disappointed in myself for not being able to accomplish everything I wanted to in a week. I was doomed to failure, by the mere math of there not being enough waking hours!
But, simplifying was just the first step. The "year to live" perspective has permeated most of my daily decisions. Now I find myself asking how I want to live my life starting with the here and now.
How do I want this moment to be? To feel?
How do I want this evening to be?
This day? This week?
The good news is that I believe I am on track with most of my life decisions. I love teaching, I love creating dances and I love learning. I have loving relationships with my husband and family. In general, I am living the way I want to live in the big scheme of things. But, the little stuff is what gets me from time to time. Getting caught up in the illusions that cause anxiety. The demands of the moment that feel like life and death, but really are trivial, silly or simply not worth my time.
This practice is, however, not as simple as it seems. It is often hard to see the truth of the situation, to dig past the eye catching details of the moment and see the essentials of life as it is. I still have bad days. I still have moments of insecurity and uncertainty. But, this practice has already changed my attitude toward myself, others and the world.
I won't last forever; no one will. This too shall pass. I shall pass. The joys, the suffering, the clarity, the confusion, the life, the death. It is all transient.
So, what do we make of the here and now?
The present. The gift of being present.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
My Weaker Left Side
Having trained as a dancer since the wee age of 3, I have a deeply rooted sense of my body. I can "feel" my body in space most clearly at all times. In dance we call this one's kinesthetic awareness. Well, whatever it is called, I got it. Bad. No really, it is something I enjoy. My body memory is so strong that I can "feel" myself in motion when I am lying in bed, sitting down, riding a train. I can envision dance and my brain and body produce sensations that mimic the actual movement. It's a trip.
But, I realized some time back that I am almost always right side dominant both in these mental "kinesthetic" visions and in my active life. If I am envisioning movement, my right side is the leader of the action, the initiator, the side of me that I most clearly sense and feel. This of course is also true when I choreograph. I am right sided.
If you are wondering, I am also right handed. I brush my teeth with my right hand and I balance best on my right foot. No surprise there.
But, I am concerned for my left side. In yoga, the left side of the body is the yin side of the body, energized by a softer, feminine, cool, dark energy. The right side in contrast is the yang side powered by a strong, masculine, hot, bright energy. Everyone needs both energies in their life. It reflects our need for exertion and recuperation in all aspects of life.
What disconcerts me is that my left side feels asleep, numb, as if it were somehow paralyzed. Of course in reality it isn't any of those things. I have full function on my entire left body. But, energetically speaking, I am deeply aware of the imbalance between my right and left sides.
My left side feels awkward, disconnected, uncoordinated, and I wonder what effect this is having on my daily life. Is that perhaps why I need so much sleep to feel rested? That I need long periods of recuperation? Is my left side limping along to such a degree that my right has taken the reigns in all aspects of my life? Maybe it has nothing to do with it, maybe it has everything to do with it.
But, regardless, I feel a need to foster my left side. And, I can tell all ready that it is going to be work. My right side is so eager to help out! But, my awareness of this fact is too strong for me to ignore it.
So, the adventure begins:
Dear weaker left side, it is time to wake up!
Beth
Here are a couple interesting resources on Brain-Body connection
The Brain Dance
http://creativedance.org/about/braindance/
Article on Integration of the Body
http://danceadvantage.net/2010/02/22/body-integration/
Video of Body Half and Cross Lateral Movement patterns (Bartenieff fundamentals)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEiVgTcinP4
But, I realized some time back that I am almost always right side dominant both in these mental "kinesthetic" visions and in my active life. If I am envisioning movement, my right side is the leader of the action, the initiator, the side of me that I most clearly sense and feel. This of course is also true when I choreograph. I am right sided.
If you are wondering, I am also right handed. I brush my teeth with my right hand and I balance best on my right foot. No surprise there.
But, I am concerned for my left side. In yoga, the left side of the body is the yin side of the body, energized by a softer, feminine, cool, dark energy. The right side in contrast is the yang side powered by a strong, masculine, hot, bright energy. Everyone needs both energies in their life. It reflects our need for exertion and recuperation in all aspects of life.
What disconcerts me is that my left side feels asleep, numb, as if it were somehow paralyzed. Of course in reality it isn't any of those things. I have full function on my entire left body. But, energetically speaking, I am deeply aware of the imbalance between my right and left sides.
My left side feels awkward, disconnected, uncoordinated, and I wonder what effect this is having on my daily life. Is that perhaps why I need so much sleep to feel rested? That I need long periods of recuperation? Is my left side limping along to such a degree that my right has taken the reigns in all aspects of my life? Maybe it has nothing to do with it, maybe it has everything to do with it.
But, regardless, I feel a need to foster my left side. And, I can tell all ready that it is going to be work. My right side is so eager to help out! But, my awareness of this fact is too strong for me to ignore it.
So, the adventure begins:
Dear weaker left side, it is time to wake up!
Beth
Here are a couple interesting resources on Brain-Body connection
The Brain Dance
http://creativedance.org/about/braindance/
Article on Integration of the Body
http://danceadvantage.net/2010/02/22/body-integration/
Video of Body Half and Cross Lateral Movement patterns (Bartenieff fundamentals)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEiVgTcinP4
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Discovering Home
Home is the sensation of relief.
I have had a truly incredible summer of travel and escapades. Starting with a road trip with the Razor Babes to San Francisco, then a solo return trip to the bay area for a visit and a wedding, then off to Chicago for the Jump Rhythm Jazz Project week long work shop, followed shortly by a fantastic honeymoon in the Northern Pacific (Oregon and Washington specifically) and finally a flight across "the pond" to Germany and Switzerland for more touring and yet another wedding.
It was great.
...
I am spent!
But, this is a good thing, a great thing, because now I want to be NOWHERE else be right here in the Kubocha Cottage (our affectionate name of our little house-- details later).
Traveling is an excellent opportunity to discover the preciousness of your daily, average life. Travel is exciting and of course I appreciate all of the different views I have seen this summer: over cities, oceans, the alps! But, travel for me often feels like I have been frozen in time. It serves for me as an incubation period during which I am suspended from completing my everyday tasks and thus making "progress". Travel forces me to step back and just observe. And, as many of you know, observing the self is often uncomfortable. It is energetically taxing and at times frustrating, irritating, and depressing to take the time to shed light on the dark and forgotten corners of the soul, sweep them out and suffer the dust cloud that follows. But, there is no better place to do exactly that than on an 11 hour flight home from Frankfurt.
All of the waiting time, in lines, for take off, for check in, for check out, at train stations, in a car... All of that time is incubating time. It feels like I truly hibernated this summer, not because I closed myself in doors, but because I divorced myself from my sense of identity in the things I do at home, namely, teaching dance, choreographing, going to yoga, going to the gym, eating at certain restaurants, taking walks... the details are not what's important. The challenge is that we become what we do, and we start to deeply identify ourselves by our habits and our practices. Of course in the Buddhist sense we are none of this. We are indefinite and these aspects of life are just details.
But, through our life we can gain insight and peace if we choose. Travel is just thing thing to shake up the routine, to help you question who you are and discover you are not your daily run around schedule. I have been reminded that I choose the routines in my life and they can be deeply satisfying and rewarding. But, being home is not about being on autopilot. Being home is the place where the real work needs to happen.
I am glad to be home.
I have had a truly incredible summer of travel and escapades. Starting with a road trip with the Razor Babes to San Francisco, then a solo return trip to the bay area for a visit and a wedding, then off to Chicago for the Jump Rhythm Jazz Project week long work shop, followed shortly by a fantastic honeymoon in the Northern Pacific (Oregon and Washington specifically) and finally a flight across "the pond" to Germany and Switzerland for more touring and yet another wedding.
It was great.
...
I am spent!
But, this is a good thing, a great thing, because now I want to be NOWHERE else be right here in the Kubocha Cottage (our affectionate name of our little house-- details later).
Traveling is an excellent opportunity to discover the preciousness of your daily, average life. Travel is exciting and of course I appreciate all of the different views I have seen this summer: over cities, oceans, the alps! But, travel for me often feels like I have been frozen in time. It serves for me as an incubation period during which I am suspended from completing my everyday tasks and thus making "progress". Travel forces me to step back and just observe. And, as many of you know, observing the self is often uncomfortable. It is energetically taxing and at times frustrating, irritating, and depressing to take the time to shed light on the dark and forgotten corners of the soul, sweep them out and suffer the dust cloud that follows. But, there is no better place to do exactly that than on an 11 hour flight home from Frankfurt.
All of the waiting time, in lines, for take off, for check in, for check out, at train stations, in a car... All of that time is incubating time. It feels like I truly hibernated this summer, not because I closed myself in doors, but because I divorced myself from my sense of identity in the things I do at home, namely, teaching dance, choreographing, going to yoga, going to the gym, eating at certain restaurants, taking walks... the details are not what's important. The challenge is that we become what we do, and we start to deeply identify ourselves by our habits and our practices. Of course in the Buddhist sense we are none of this. We are indefinite and these aspects of life are just details.
But, through our life we can gain insight and peace if we choose. Travel is just thing thing to shake up the routine, to help you question who you are and discover you are not your daily run around schedule. I have been reminded that I choose the routines in my life and they can be deeply satisfying and rewarding. But, being home is not about being on autopilot. Being home is the place where the real work needs to happen.
I am glad to be home.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Ego vs Artist
(I wrote the first draft of this blog 2 weeks ago while I was up in the Bay Area... I never actually posted it, so I am sharing it now with some current additions. Enjoy!)
I attended the San Francisco Zen Center yesterday evening. I had a wonderful time sitting in the location where Shunryu Suzuki first established the Soto Zen practice in the United States. I had read his biography over a year ago, The Crooked Cucumber. It, in combination, of Natalie Goldberg's books (on Zen and Writing) were the two influences that prompted me to delve into Zen Buddhism.
Now, I try to go to the Northridge Beginner's Mind Zen Center when I have time and sit occasionally at home or in other meditation groups some of which are not necessary Buddhist but fill my need for sangha (like minded community).
My current question is centered around my experience as an artist and how to navigate the dance making process while not succumbing to the whims of the ego (a big No No in the Buddhist world). This line of questioning actually started about a year ago, when I first created this blog. The challenge of being a performing artist is inherent in the art itself. Dance is a live art form dependent on others. If I were just a poet, I could feasibly write and write and write without ever having to show anyone and then allow my work to be found in a trunk after I am gone, not caring whether they publish a series of books from the vast amount of writing or simply stick it in the recycle bin.
Being a poet seems like it would be so much simpler in that way. I wouldn't have to be around when others read it, I wouldn't have to worry about renting a studio or theater or gathering dancers to volunteer their time and talents for my vision. A poet can work alone, at any time, day or night without hindrance.
But, I am a performer and a creator of performance. And, here is the crux of my suffering, I want people to want to see my work and (gasp) like the work.
But, why???
I haven't quite sorted that out yet. In the worst case it is because I am egotistical. The best case is that I have a mission to bring joy and mindfulness to the world through dance. The trouble comes when I can't tell which is the driving force.
Trouble.
Am I merely a self centered egoist? Or am I the ultimate altruistic artist?
Why am I driven to do what I do?
I need to spend a lot more time figuring this out and ASAP. Because, in the meantime I am suffering. I suffer each time I feel a pang of envy, or a shake of insecurity. I feel it when I bristle upon hearing of others success and in all the hours I plague myself with self doubt and dislike for the work I create. I am suffering, and it is ugly. I don't like admitting it. I am embarrassed. But, this is the truth, and I gather that this is the truth for many or even most artists.
We may not know why we are driven to do what we do and I believe losing the context of why we create plays a large part in our suffering as artists. I am fortunate that I make my living teaching therefore I don't have to make money with my art. But, it still feels overwhelmingly important to me. And, I want to make sure it is important for the RIGHT reason. Not to feed my ego but to feed my spirit and the spirit of the dancer and audience members (more on that coming soon).
Here is a list I have come up with to help me determine whether I am working from a healthy or detrimental place. Perhaps you will enjoy the list as well.
Beth
Signs that I am an egotistical artist:
-- Focus on the other: sometimes I catch myself thinking too much about what other people are doing with their dances. This should be irrelevant. It is one thing to observe and enjoy; it is another to use these opportunities for either self validation or flagellation.
--Frustration with the product: The product is irrelevant, art making is about the process. The dance should be nothing more than the residue of the creative experience.
--Identification with the dance: I am not the dance. My success is not tied to the success of the dance. There is no success to be attained.
--Desire for validation/accolades: This is a big one for me. I want people to tell me it was good! I want people to like it. But, I need to rethink why I want a positive response. It is because I hope to create art that touches the hearts of the audience or because I want praise.
Signs I am an altruistic artist:
--Enjoyment/witness of the other: In watching a dance artist I am inspired to continue my path with the new insight from those around me.
--Joy of Process: I know I am in the right place when going to the studio or rehearsal is fun! And, even problem solving is fun.
--Focus on the Message: I create dances with a message (sometimes for me sometimes for the world). When I am creating from this place, it takes ME out of the equation and puts the goal of the art at the forefront.
--Self care/ Self love: I know I am working from a healthy place when I can offer myself deep compassion through the struggles that are inherent in a creative process. When I forget to forgive myself/love myself/have patience with myself then I am in a fighting place. I am fighting with my ego that has expectations that are unhelpful to the process.
In short when I am creating from this place....
... I know I am creating from the right place.
I attended the San Francisco Zen Center yesterday evening. I had a wonderful time sitting in the location where Shunryu Suzuki first established the Soto Zen practice in the United States. I had read his biography over a year ago, The Crooked Cucumber. It, in combination, of Natalie Goldberg's books (on Zen and Writing) were the two influences that prompted me to delve into Zen Buddhism.
Now, I try to go to the Northridge Beginner's Mind Zen Center when I have time and sit occasionally at home or in other meditation groups some of which are not necessary Buddhist but fill my need for sangha (like minded community).
My current question is centered around my experience as an artist and how to navigate the dance making process while not succumbing to the whims of the ego (a big No No in the Buddhist world). This line of questioning actually started about a year ago, when I first created this blog. The challenge of being a performing artist is inherent in the art itself. Dance is a live art form dependent on others. If I were just a poet, I could feasibly write and write and write without ever having to show anyone and then allow my work to be found in a trunk after I am gone, not caring whether they publish a series of books from the vast amount of writing or simply stick it in the recycle bin.
Being a poet seems like it would be so much simpler in that way. I wouldn't have to be around when others read it, I wouldn't have to worry about renting a studio or theater or gathering dancers to volunteer their time and talents for my vision. A poet can work alone, at any time, day or night without hindrance.
But, I am a performer and a creator of performance. And, here is the crux of my suffering, I want people to want to see my work and (gasp) like the work.
But, why???
I haven't quite sorted that out yet. In the worst case it is because I am egotistical. The best case is that I have a mission to bring joy and mindfulness to the world through dance. The trouble comes when I can't tell which is the driving force.
Trouble.
Am I merely a self centered egoist? Or am I the ultimate altruistic artist?
Why am I driven to do what I do?
I need to spend a lot more time figuring this out and ASAP. Because, in the meantime I am suffering. I suffer each time I feel a pang of envy, or a shake of insecurity. I feel it when I bristle upon hearing of others success and in all the hours I plague myself with self doubt and dislike for the work I create. I am suffering, and it is ugly. I don't like admitting it. I am embarrassed. But, this is the truth, and I gather that this is the truth for many or even most artists.
We may not know why we are driven to do what we do and I believe losing the context of why we create plays a large part in our suffering as artists. I am fortunate that I make my living teaching therefore I don't have to make money with my art. But, it still feels overwhelmingly important to me. And, I want to make sure it is important for the RIGHT reason. Not to feed my ego but to feed my spirit and the spirit of the dancer and audience members (more on that coming soon).
Here is a list I have come up with to help me determine whether I am working from a healthy or detrimental place. Perhaps you will enjoy the list as well.
Beth
Signs that I am an egotistical artist:
-- Focus on the other: sometimes I catch myself thinking too much about what other people are doing with their dances. This should be irrelevant. It is one thing to observe and enjoy; it is another to use these opportunities for either self validation or flagellation.
--Frustration with the product: The product is irrelevant, art making is about the process. The dance should be nothing more than the residue of the creative experience.
--Identification with the dance: I am not the dance. My success is not tied to the success of the dance. There is no success to be attained.
--Desire for validation/accolades: This is a big one for me. I want people to tell me it was good! I want people to like it. But, I need to rethink why I want a positive response. It is because I hope to create art that touches the hearts of the audience or because I want praise.
Signs I am an altruistic artist:
--Enjoyment/witness of the other: In watching a dance artist I am inspired to continue my path with the new insight from those around me.
--Joy of Process: I know I am in the right place when going to the studio or rehearsal is fun! And, even problem solving is fun.
--Focus on the Message: I create dances with a message (sometimes for me sometimes for the world). When I am creating from this place, it takes ME out of the equation and puts the goal of the art at the forefront.
--Self care/ Self love: I know I am working from a healthy place when I can offer myself deep compassion through the struggles that are inherent in a creative process. When I forget to forgive myself/love myself/have patience with myself then I am in a fighting place. I am fighting with my ego that has expectations that are unhelpful to the process.
In short when I am creating from this place....
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.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
You are My Witness
Part of blogging for me is about getting ideas organized and out of my head. Sometimes they are sweet, fun and joyful other times they are thick, heavy and soaked in my mind's slop. I started this blog because I felt I had something to say, about teaching, dance, meditation, life, whatever. I didn't really know at that point what I was going to write. I just knew I had to take the leap and put my words out there. But, I didn't want to impose my thoughts on people; so, a blog seemed like a harmless way to put my thoughts out to the world. People could take them or leave them at will. No personal offense taken either way. And, this blog still serves this function. But, I have since learned it is something more. You are something more.
You are also my witness.
By writing things out, I not only sort them out for myself, but I am held true to my word because I have you as my witness. Although, I may not know all my readers by name. I see that people are reading and this is powerful stuff for me as a mindfulness practitioner.
In describing my experience of the world to you, I can better see things as they are. By putting my experiences down into this blog, they become more real, because they are real not only for me but now for you as you share in this experience. I feel bound to be honest because I am honored that you take the time to read. I know this isn't a new concept, and I am sure there are thousands upon thousands of blog entries saying exactly this (with different words). But, I am now saying it to you. I am experiencing this internet sanga for the first time in the first person, and I want to say thank you.
You give me the gift of being my witness, through the joys and through the shit.
Life really is like a road trip: always more fun with friends.
Namaste
You are also my witness.
By writing things out, I not only sort them out for myself, but I am held true to my word because I have you as my witness. Although, I may not know all my readers by name. I see that people are reading and this is powerful stuff for me as a mindfulness practitioner.
In describing my experience of the world to you, I can better see things as they are. By putting my experiences down into this blog, they become more real, because they are real not only for me but now for you as you share in this experience. I feel bound to be honest because I am honored that you take the time to read. I know this isn't a new concept, and I am sure there are thousands upon thousands of blog entries saying exactly this (with different words). But, I am now saying it to you. I am experiencing this internet sanga for the first time in the first person, and I want to say thank you.
You give me the gift of being my witness, through the joys and through the shit.
Life really is like a road trip: always more fun with friends.
Namaste
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Stillness vs Holding
A quick note about the difference between being still and holding. . .
This came to me while in seated meditation today. Being dance instructor I am constantly moving. And even as a "regular person" I find I am always on the go (and, I imagine you are too). Performing seated meditation is of course very still. But today I made the connection that seated meditation while still is not a held position.
The distinction between these two ideas is beautifully articulated in dance notation (The Language of Dance©). Holding is represented my a small circle. It basically means that one should hold or retain one's shape or orientation in space. It is an exact place, measured by external means. HOLD! One might as well say FREEZE! Because holding can often feel bound and caught. The concept of stillness in dance notation is represented by the same circle (as used for holding or retention) with a "v" shape emanating outward from the top of the circle, expressing outward flow.
It looks like this:
Now it may look a little silly at first. I, for one, think it looks a wee bit like an old TV or an alien with antennae, but I have come to understand that it is the most beautiful notation representation of stillness I can imagine. You see, I realized while sitting in my chair that I was still, but I didn't have to hold. I didn't have to be frozen in space. And, as long as I was breathing I wasn't frozen in space. The breath going in and out of my lungs gave a subtle rise and fall to the energy of my stillness. So, although my external body was mostly still my inner workings never still. By breathing I was able to continue growing, expanding and experiencing while being stationary. The subtle shifts of the ribcage, spine, collar bones and neck became my outward flow and thus my opening.
As I sit in meditation I often notice a build up of tension. I think of it like a residue: forgotten holding somewhere in my body. But, if I allow my breath to flow into that space, I remove the holding and replace it with stillness. The tension and pain disappears, the discomfort dissipates. . . And all without me "moving."
Recently I have yearned desperately to be still. I couldn't identify why for a long time. But I think I realize now that I want to be still, because I want to experience the flow within the stillness. I want to take the time to let go of the residual holding that can feel lifeless and life sucking. Stillness allows me to go inward so I naturally emanate outward. Each inhale a gift, each exhale a sigh of relief.
Try it if you like, and may you find the blessing of stillness too.
This came to me while in seated meditation today. Being dance instructor I am constantly moving. And even as a "regular person" I find I am always on the go (and, I imagine you are too). Performing seated meditation is of course very still. But today I made the connection that seated meditation while still is not a held position.
The distinction between these two ideas is beautifully articulated in dance notation (The Language of Dance©). Holding is represented my a small circle. It basically means that one should hold or retain one's shape or orientation in space. It is an exact place, measured by external means. HOLD! One might as well say FREEZE! Because holding can often feel bound and caught. The concept of stillness in dance notation is represented by the same circle (as used for holding or retention) with a "v" shape emanating outward from the top of the circle, expressing outward flow.
It looks like this:
As I sit in meditation I often notice a build up of tension. I think of it like a residue: forgotten holding somewhere in my body. But, if I allow my breath to flow into that space, I remove the holding and replace it with stillness. The tension and pain disappears, the discomfort dissipates. . . And all without me "moving."
Recently I have yearned desperately to be still. I couldn't identify why for a long time. But I think I realize now that I want to be still, because I want to experience the flow within the stillness. I want to take the time to let go of the residual holding that can feel lifeless and life sucking. Stillness allows me to go inward so I naturally emanate outward. Each inhale a gift, each exhale a sigh of relief.
Try it if you like, and may you find the blessing of stillness too.
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