If you fail to plan, plan to fail.

Anyone who knows me, knows I like order.  I like to plan, and more importantly, I like to stick to the plan.  Do not even suggest we change the plan once the plan is written in ink, because it might as well have been carved in stone. I'm also a consummate list maker and derive great pleasure from crossing things off the list once the task is accomplished.

As flexible as my body is, my actions and mindset are often a stark contradiction.  That is why Yoga is so important to me. It provides me relief from myself.  For sixty minutes or ninety minutes or for however long the class is, the only task on my "to do" list is to breathe.

So when I began this journey, it was quite out of character to not have a plan.  The truth is I felt scared.  Yoga is so important to my sanity, I didn't want to ruin it by placing expectations on what I was going to accomplish by attending teacher training.  I told myself, even if I do nothing--if I never teach a single class or earn a single dollar, it doesn't matter.  Yoga is for me.  If the only thing I get out of teacher training is a better understanding of Yoga, then it will all be worth it.

But then I started to feel pressure because that's what a control freak with a Type A personality does.  I started to brood, my heart grew heavy, a slight depression began creeping in.  Where's the path leading me?  I wondered.  Ironic considering, at the time, I was walking in circles on an outdoor track.

"If you fail to plan, plan to fail."  

The first time I heard these words, I was sitting in a large lecture hall with a few hundred other students on the campus of Michigan State University listening to Professor Jon Vredevoogd.  He spoke them loudly, clearly, and with intent.  And then he repeated them.  "If you fail to plan, plan to fail."  It was my first term at MSU.  Always a good student, I eagerly scribbled the words down in my notebook.  Nearly twenty-five years after I first sat in that classroom, those words are the only thing I remember and yet they seem counter-intuitive to what I am trying to achieve at this moment in my life...to Be. Here. Now.

 
So, just as I felt I may be on the verge of a complete meltdown because staying present is a lot harder than being present, Miss Peggy, from Lake Norman Taekwondo approached me about teaching yoga in their TKD studio.  Wow.  Talk about the universe showing up and taking charge.

Where my yoga journey takes me from here, I don't know.  In the course of writing this blog post and having the opportunity to reflect, I realized not having a plan was the plan.  So, in the future, when I start to feel anxious about where the path is leading me, I'm going to get out of my own head, go to the mat, and breathe...and trust that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be.

 Much later in life, I would learn those famous words first belonged to Benjamin Franklin not Jon D. Vredevoogd, but by that time it didn't matter.  They were already ingrained in my memory banks giving Vredevoogd total credit for placing them there.  Because I couldn't remember how to spell Vredevoogd, I googled my old Human Environments and Design professor.  In doing so I discovered Professor Jon D. Vredevoogd passed away in November 2013.  He was 70 years old and in addition to teaching at Michigan State University for 35 years, he also worked for NASA and American Airlines and  finished 6 Chicago Marathons...all of which I'm sure required rigorous planning.  

Rest in Peace, Professor.

Sanskrit Word of the Week: Karma

Yesterday, I slipped and fell.  And at my age I don't bounce well.  Crash. Boom. Bam. Splat. Owwww.  Laid out flat at the bottom of the stairs.

After accessing the situation and determining I would live, my oldest son walked back up the stairs, singing, "Kar-ma, KARRR-maa."  My younger son showed a little more concern, "Should I call an ambulance or something?" he asked standing over me.

Earlier in the day, I had carried the clean laundry upstairs and put it away; only to find that my oldest son, when looking for a pair of socks to wear, had emptied the contents of his drawer onto his bedroom floor.  And then left for Taekwondo.  When he returned home, I calmly instructed him to not only hang up his uniform, but also to re-fold and put his socks and underwear back in the drawer.  When he finished, I checked to make sure the task was completed to my satisfaction.  After determining I could live with the results, I headed back down the stairs.  And then I fell.


My son implied my slipping was a result of the universe punishing me for wrongdoing--in this case for making him undo a mess he made.  He was wrong.  The universe was not punishing me by causing me to slip and fall.  However, the universe is punishing me for sins I committed years and years ago;  it's punishing me for disrespecting my own mother as a teenager--by providing me with my own disrespectful teenager.  In fact, it's downright LAUGHING at me.  Is it too late to apologize? 

KARMA IS A BITCH!

...Or is it?

Urban Dictionary defines Karma as:   The Buddhist belief that whatever you do comes back to you.  For example, if you do something good, something good will happen to you and vice versa.  Merriam-Webster and Dictionary.com define it essentially the same way.

Later that evening, we dropped both boys off at their Taekwondo school for a "lock-in" which coincided with Valentine's Day weekend.
Ten minutes after leaving them for our date night, my oldest son called, "Mom, I ripped my pants.  Can you bring me another pair?" 
"Sorry kiddo.  No can do," I sang, "We have res-ser-vaaaa-tions."

Yep.  Karma is a bitch!

Thai Yoga Massage

I began my yoga teacher training in November 2013 with a weekend immersion in Restorative Yoga.  After my first weekend, I returned home and began mapping out a plan for completion.  I had every class scheduled but one. 

I struggle with decision-making.  Always looking for a connection or a sign, I cannot even buy potholders if they don’t speak to me.    And then an email appeared in my inbox.  The subject line read:  THAI YOGA MASSAGE EARLY BIRD REGISTRATION EXTENDED.  Just a few days earlier when asked what I intended to do after completing yoga teacher training, I declared my intention was to retire to Thailand and teach yoga.  This email was my sign, my message from the Universe.

As the weekend for Thai Yoga approached, my enthusiasm started to fade and I wondered if I had misread the cue from the Universe.  After all, chances of me actually retiring to Thailand are slim; the logistics messy…especially given my new found fear of flying.   I also had no real concept of what Thai Yoga massage was or how I could eventually apply it to my practice.  I hoped I was not wasting my time and money.

She had me at, “Hello, I’m Melissa.”  Melissa Smith, 500 E-RYT (500 hour Experienced-Registered Yoga Teacher) and founder of Grace Yoga, greeted everyone with a warm hug and confident demeanor.  Captivated by her energy, I listened intently trying to harness as much knowledge, enthusiasm, and Metta (loving kindness) as I could.  Quickly, I could see the therapeutic benefits of Thai Yoga massage and began to formulate imaginary classes in my head.  Wouldn't it be great to follow a fast-paced vinyasa with a short massage sequence using partners or self massage techniques? I thought.

After our first full day of class, I returned home and announced to my husband that I wanted to practice my newly acquired massage skills on him.  He was excited.  And then I told him he would remain clothed and there would be no oil involved.  His excitement waned.

I created a comfortable space on the floor, about the width of two yoga mats and instructed him to lie on his back.  I began at his feet.  He grimaced.  I continued.  He grimaced again.  And then I performed the Russian Dance, a move which twists the torso, one leg over the other.  And again, he grimaced, this time announcing, “This is not anything I’d ever pay for.”  I stopped.  Certain he would enjoy the stretching, traction and twisting, this was not the reaction I expected.  I must be doing it wrong, I thought.  After a few brief moments and some deep inhales, I composed myself and continued, making mental notes of what he appeared to like and not like.  After I finished the entire sequence, he asked me to do it again.  

Shocked, “You want me to do it again?” I asked. 

“Yeah…well…it got better as you went along,” he replied. 

When I finished going through the entire sequence again, he asked, “Did you learn anything else you want to practice?”  As a matter of fact I had.   Happy to perform a seated massage and facial sequence, he pronounced both of those worthy of payment!

Thai Yoga massage is vastly different than the more commonly experienced Swedish massage.  With Swedish massage, the receiver lies on a table unclothed while his/her muscles are kneaded or stroked using oil to release tension.  Thai Yoga Massage requires the receiver lie on a mat on the floor.  The giver utilizes his or her body weight to apply pressure in a series of stretches and twists in a rhythmic meditation that resembles a graceful dance.  It incorporates elements of yoga, acupressure, reflexology and meditation, as well as, physiotherapy, energy healing, and Ayurveda. 

According to this article posted at www.muditathaiyoga.com:

The benefits of Thai Yoga Massage are countless. By freeing the flow of vital energy in the body, Thai Massage can improve posture, breathing, flexibility, digestion and circulation. Muscles are stretched, inner organs toned and emotional and nervous tension is reduced.

During the training, I could see the tremendous value in Thai Yoga massage, especially for people with less flexibility and mobility, such as those with paralysis or rheumatoid arthritis.  As I continue my yoga journey, I believe the path I am to travel will reveal itself to me.  My first goal is to achieve my 200 hour teacher training certification.  After that, I may consider a certification in Thai Yoga Massage, but like my decision to attend the Thai Yoga Massage weekend immersion, I will wait for a sign from the Universe!

Yoga is My Thing

Early 2013 at forty-something years old, while soaking in the tub, I began to practice my three-part, ujjayi breathing.  And then I had an epiphany as if God himself had spoken to me.  I began to sob uncontrollably.  I had finally figured it out!  YOGA IS MY THING!  

Are we born with a predisposed blueprint; fated with traits and talents?  Do the choices we make and the experiences we have throughout our lifetime determine the outcome of where our life leads us and to whether or not we reach our full potential?  And does everything happen for a reason?

I used to feel cheated.  I believed God handed out talents so obvious to those around me…Joseph, with no ability to read music, could pick up any instrument and teach himself to play; Jennifer, cheerleading captain and homecoming queen, with her perfectly feathered hair (yep, it was the eighties!) had her choice of anyone to date.

I wasn’t a gymnast, a runner, swimmer, or a dancer.  I couldn’t carry a tune and I wasn’t a beauty queen.  Trust me…I tried them all.  Fail. Fail. Fail.  Oh sure…I was good at a lot of things, but nothing came naturally.  I was a good student, but I had to study A LOT.  And while I may have set the curve for some classes because I could memorize anything; other subjects like math, that required a true understanding of the subject matter, revealed my limitations. 

When I became pregnant with my first child, my focus changed.  Believing at thirty years old my window of opportunity for discovering my own talent had closed, I became determined fetus numero uno would not suffer my same fate.  And I also thought, perhaps, being a mom was my calling and if so, I was going to be the best damn mom on the planet.  And so it went—art classes, tumbling, soccer, swimming, basketball, baseball, but nothing stuck.  He was no Picasso or Beckham.  So I gave up.   Oh…and along the way, I figured out my natural talent was not parenting.

Four years after the first fetus arrived, a second was born and when the boys were just 6 and 2 years old, we moved to Shanghai, China.  And while it probably goes without saying, living in Shanghai, China with its 23.9 million people was a bit different than living in small, generic, Midwest town, USA.   Suddenly, I had opportunities available to me that had never previously crossed my path.  One of those opportunities was yoga.  

Because of my natural flexibility, yoga was something I thought I might be adept at doing.  (I now know that flexibility is not a pre-requisite to being able to enjoy the benefits of yoga, but I didn’t know it then.)  Even though the classes were taught in Mandarin, and I didn’t understand a single direction or cue, I watched and followed along.  At the time, I had no idea that there was anything more to yoga than stretching, bending, balancing, or lunging, but I was hooked.  I sought out books to learn poses and then I sought out an English-speaking teacher. 

In the beginning, the other yogis commented and complimented me on my abilities.  I felt embarrassed by the attention.  I downplayed their compliments.  “I’m not actually good at yoga,” I’d respond, “I’m just naturally flexible.”

For the first couple of years, my yoga practice was superficial and sporadic and then we repatriated and it became non-existent.  Feeling like the best part of my life was behind me, I suffered from reverse culture shock.  Depression and anxiety took hold and I gained weight.

So with the New Year approaching and resolutions to be made, I joined Weight Watchers and the YMCA, where I attended a yoga class for the first time in almost 18 months and it felt good. No, it felt great! And even though I had gained nearly 45 pounds, my flexibility remained intact.

I started attending yoga classes 3-4 times/week and started noticing a change in my disposition.  I felt happy.  I felt grounded.  I felt balanced.  Which brings me back to that fateful day in the bath tub where I was practicing my breathing, meditating.  For all those times, I felt cheated; thought God denied me, I was wrong.  My talent existed all along.  I just didn’t recognize it.

I am now on a mission to discover my authentic self.  The road to self-acceptance has been long and arduous and took me to the other side of the world and back.  I am so grateful for the experiences I’ve had because they brought me here…to the realization that YOGA IS MY THING!