Wisdom and Confusion

The title of my blog really sums up how I felt about Finding Om last night. Week seven (yesterday) was supposed to be the crescendo. Everything built up to the meditations presented. I went for it, really tackling issues of binge eating and the shame that results from increased mindfulness, hence increased awareness of how you have been abusing your body, using it as a way to make public your self-hatred. With increased mindfulness, that abuse becomes more apparent, resulting in feelings of shame.

Yoga is a wonderful psychotherapy tool, especially for people with eating disorders-- or, for that matter, any other disorder that results in your living entirely in your head with little regard for your physical being. Yoga forces you to pay attention to your body, to get out of your head. And for people who have not paid attention to their bodies for a long time, who have been using their bodies to express their self-hatred, this is invaluable. 

I was really excited for session 7. I've been thinking about it since session one. Since before that. I was really excited to see how people reacted. And, for the most part, they reacted well. That is, all 6 people who showed up. 

That's right. My original n (sample size) of 13 has dwindled to 10. Of those 10, only 6 showed. I was really sad and disappointed-- kind of like when the fireworks on 4th of July are duds. 

That's not entirely fair. The people who attended responded really positively. I evoked tears, which is what I was going for (masochistic as that sounds). I think I need to figure out a way to weave yesterday's topic back in next week, both as a revisit for those who were there and to make sure that message is given to the ones who weren't. 

Yet another yogic lesson: don't plan too hard. Just try and see what comes. Or something like that. 

Mindfulness

Still struggling with giving myself a break, even though I have woken up every day since Saturday feeling awful. Today I did an hour of yoga, then did a few hours of yard work later in the day. Making nice progress on that front, although I still have a lot to go.

Can't decide what I want to do tomorrow. I usually do a hill workout on Wednesdays. Do I give myself a break, since I am not being lazy but simply don't feel well? Like, maybe take a hike instead of going for a run and allow my body time to recover? Do I push myself to do my usual workout and grant myself some forgiveness if it's harder than usual? Do I wait and see what the morning brings?

Only tomorrow will tell. 

Paying for it

I ran 14 miserable miles this morning. I could make a million excuses as to why this run was so difficult. I really think it's because I have been pushing myself so hard, somehow equating stillness with weakness. Stupid, I know, and I would tell a friend to stop being so hard on herself, give herself a break, and that taking a break when you are feeling whipped is the best thing because we all know muscles need rest time to recover bla bla bla. So why is it so hard to internalize this advice myself?

Relentless Motion

It wasn't until a moment of stillness during this morning's Kundalini class that I realized I have spent the last few days indulging the unconscious desire to keep moving. I have done this by running, by assistant-coaching my kids' Landsharks track team, by weight lifting, by doing yoga, by hiking the Manitou incline. I have done this by going to the supermarket, by cooking, by going to Target and Home Depot. I have kept moving by trimming trees in my yard, by thinning out badly overgrown  scrub oaks, by bagging about 25 30-gallon bags of leaves. 

Lucky for my need to move, I have a 14 mile run on the schedule tomorrow and lots and lots more yard work to go. Just bought 25 more of those big bags. But why the need? I think it has a lot to do with the anxiety of giving Genogirl her shots. This kind of hit me over the head when, after lots of frog poses and knee bends and breath of fire, the enforced stillness was accompanied by a torrent of tears. 

Ah, yoga. Keeps me honest, anyway. 

A drinking game for you from me

Many years ago I went with my best friend to Cambridge MA to visit her brother, a student at Harvard Law school. This is what I learned there. 

Instructions: Recite without errors. When you make an error you drink and start over from the beginning. Somehow you go around in a circle but I forget that part, so make it up for yourself. 

One red hen.

A couple duck.

Three brown bear.

Four running hare. 

Five fat females sitting sipping scotch and smoking cigarettes.

Six slimy Sicilian sailors solemnly sailing the seven seas in a sloop.

Seven: I slit a sheet, a sheet I slit, upon a slitted sheet I sit. 

Eight: (I forget eight. Make up your own).

Nine nymphlike nudes nimbly nibbling on nicotine and pigs knuckles.

Ten: I'm no fig pucker. I'm no fig pucker's son. But I'll puck figs until the fig pucker's son comes. 

It's kind of embarrassing to admit that I still remember this, but I think it lodged in the part of my brain that also stores the chorus of every song that was in the top 40 when I was in 7th grade, as well as all the words to Barry Manilow's Mandy. I think it was also my first exposure to drinking games in action, and so made a greater imprint on my young, impressionable brain.

My cousin, who is 6 years younger than me, also went to HLS. I wonder if this was still being played. If not, a pity for the future of the profession.

New blog in town

Natasha just started her own blog. Check it out: Genogirl Grows On. Her first post is ready to read.

I had a little Seder

Every year since I moved to Colorado in 1997 I have traveled back to NJ to join my parents and extended family for the traditional and much-anticipated family Passover Seder. Lots of family, lots of food, as much fun as a four hour meal/service can be. This has been part of my children's lives since they were born, and is always looked forward to. 

Nonetheless, we didn't go this year. Between my dad's birthday last month and being in NJ earlier this year and our upcoming trip to Alaska in June for another family event, it's enough with the travel. So we had a seder here. It was fun! Lots of people, including my Cousin Ezra and his beautiful and adorable little girl who flew in from LA. 

Alas, one of my friends broke a wine glass and slashed her hand and had to go get 4 stitches. But then again, bloodshed is a part of the Passover story, so I guess it goes along with the whole theme.

Not sure what we'll do next year. Ezra thinks I should offer to host the whole family out here. I actually don't mind that idea. My mom, matriarch and holder of the trademark on all things Passover (at least in our family) might have an issue with it. But we'll see.