Friday, July 31, 2009

My "Balentine"

I am an American living in Sweden. Ironically, I have a cousin married to a Dane living in Denmnark. My husband, who grew up in Sweden, was actually born in Denmark, and as it turns out my father-in-law lives only about 20 miles from my cousin.

Being a blood relative is something else. My cousin Eddie is 10 years my senior, and I only visited his family on one occasion growing up, when I was five and he was fifteen. It was in February, around Valentine's Day, and despite my young age, I was enchanted by his smile, good looks, and charisma. I decided he was my "Balentine".

As the years passed the only other times we met were at my grandparents' funerals. At this point I was a teenager, and Eddie was "grown up", but he was still as charming as I had remembered, and he had all of us, my siblings and other cousins included, in stitches laughing, despite the gravity of these social occasions.

Now that we are the only "family" we have this side of the Atlantic, we try to get together about once a year. His daughter is three years older than my daughter while our sons are born only two weeks apart. He recently opened a small brewery in Denmark that is starting to really take off, one of the reasons being that he has the Danes under the same charming spell as the rest of us.

When we sit down to eat, we swap stories from our childhood, amazed at the similarities between our families even though we so rarely met. We reminisce about our grandparents, the house they owned in Philadelphia, complete with my grandfather's spooky funeral parlor that was on the ground floor, and jovially laugh recalling how scared we were passing through there on trips from the upstairs apartment to the basement.

Even though I never got to know Eddie then, our common ground connects us, and the joy I experience meeting him is so pure, just as the love I feel knowing we share a bond like no other. Fate has played a big part in our destinies which has entailed us leaving our home country in order to build new homes in Scandinavia, with new cultures and languages to boot. A change as huge as this really challenges your sense of identity and belonging (as well as longing), but when Eddie and I get together, I can be MYSELF, and I like that.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Meditation tantrum


I'm not one to advocate forcing oneself to do anything, but I do at times have to be really tough on myself when it comes to meditating. And the only reason I do that is because there is absolutely nothing bad that can come from meditating, only good. And if I could just sit my butt down and get my act together...at best I meditate a couple of times a week, which, face it, is a joke, because what the hell I am doing that is so important that I can't sit still in silence for 15 minutes a day??? God, talking about being full of it!

I recently read in Yoga Journal that a novice meditator's mind can be compared to that of a toddler's and whose progress can be likened with the stages of child development. And as such, the need for loving encouragement is the only way to breed success. Nothing could be more true. However, if I have on ocassion succeeded in being on the same level as a 6-year-old, tonight I was definitely in my terrible two's stage. My monkey mind was more like a gorilla war (pun intended). I could so relate to my young son who at times drives me up a wall when I say something to him, and I can see that it is literally in-one-ear-out-the-other.

At this point I just smiled and took comfort in Swami Muktananda's ("Meditate - Happiness Lies Within You) ideas that since the SELF is behind all of our thought processes, we should just accept our thoughts without judgment. Seriously, what else could I do? I figure if my SELF, godlike and of pure divinity, can put up with my crap...then I'm not going to lose any sleep about not acting my age when meditating. I just try again later* (*insert fake Indian accent here).

Picture: a 2-year-old struggling to sit still and the view from my meditation spot on our back porch

Monday, July 27, 2009

La muerte


La muerte sounds so much more beautiful than the word death.

I think about death and dying every day; it' something I've done since being a child. It fascinates me at the same time it terrifies me. I am a master of dreaming up scenarios not unlike a director looking through his fingers imagining camera angles, scripts, and Oscar-worthy drama. I think I do this so that I will somehow be "prepared" should something tragic happen to a loved one. Which is so impossible, it's ludicrous. Sometimes I think I do it to be a bit of a masochist. But mostly I think it's because I would like to make peace with death so that I don't have to be afraid anymore.

However, death has his companion desire who makes it incredibly difficult to negogiate. Ever since the birth of my children I am incapable of witnessing any type of suffering, be it real or fiction, because it always spurs my maternal instincts and darkest fears. I don't own the rights to my children's souls, yet the thought of any of them passing during my lifetime is a way scarier thought than my own demise.

I do, however, believe in an afterlife. But I believe that that passage goes most smoothly when one can accept the trauma of dying. I think I would get a lot more out of life if I could stop worrying about death. Of course I think one should make responsible choices, and anyone who puts a child into this world OWES it to this child to ensure its safety and security. I really don't understand thrill seekers who challenge their mortality on a regular basis, so it's not like I'm looking to join their ranks should I manage to make any progress.

I had sort of a weird thought the other day about my father, who being old-fashioned and ultra-conservative has a lot of hateful views that I consider to be dead wrong. In my mental dialogue (I have a lot of those with my parents) I thought if he just waits and sees - when he's gone he'll see how wrong he was to hate and judge and then...and then, what? He'll see that he was wrong, and that will be that. No judgment day. No wraths of hell. Pure enlightenment.

So not only am I working on not being afraid of death, I am trying to realize that perhaps always being in the right isn't the most important thing either. After all, both are like cancer to the energy we could be using to live life to the fullest.

I think the Mexicans are onto something when they celebrate El día de los muertos (The day of the dead) and for one day a year equate death with festivities. And allow the souls that have passed to remain the same souls that walked the Earth - only having more fun afterwards.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

Blueberries





I am not what you could consider a nature freak. Given the choice between sleeping in a tent or in a hotel room I will without exception always choose the hotel room. But certain things make me feel simply wonderful: fall foliage in New England, crickets chirping in the summer, the sight, smell, and feel of ocean turf, and I suppose that's what is meant by experiencing one's interconnectedness with the divine through nature.

Last night I had the chance to try something new - blueberry picking. My neighbor had called just as I was about to go do some yoga and invited me to tag along. Since it was fantastic weather outside, I decided it would be a great thing for me and my son to do. My son, however, decided he would rather hang out with the neighbor's sons, so it ended up only being the three grownups who went out on this evening excursion.

When we got to the forest we climbed out of the car to see that the ground was covered with a sea of blueberry shrubs. Being a novice, I had no real strategy as to how to go about accumulating this blue treasure, so I just started picking. Moved along. Picked some more. Listened to the quiet.

Me not being used to the constant forward bending made itself known after a while, so I really had to focus on activating my core muscles (yet another reason to work on my abdominals...). And the blueberries were everywhere. No deep thoughts here, nor did I attempt any type of reflective meditation. I was just in the moment. Picking. Smelling the fresh air. Noticing the setting sun's rays engulf me. Tasting the tart bluerberry juice spreading itself all over my fingers and hands.

Finally, I could no longer ignore the fact that my back was really tired. No wonder; when we got to the car I found out that we had been there for two hours. I had completely transcended any sense of time.

And now I have liters of blueberries filling my fridge that will brighten my breakfast and baking for months to come.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Friday evening in Ljungbyholm

It's Friday evening, and the Clone Wars have called a ceasefire so that my son can go to bed. I await anxiously with a slim glimmer of hope the results of my husband's horse's race (my husband trains a trotter - M.Q. Cloud) and am therefore chained to the computer at least a few more minutes.

Once those results are in, I think I'll go sit outside on our porch. It is one of those wonderful summer evenings where you can easily sit outside without freezing. Even though the days grow shorter, it is still dusk at 9:30 P.M. And I can hear the birds singing through my open window, coaxing me to join them...

So either I'll try to do a little meditating before my dustridden, exhausted husband returns or else I should try to figure out what Sunday's theme is going to be for my yoga class. It's hard to believe that I have already been on summer vacation from teaching yoga for four weeks. And I really don't know where to begin upon taking up my class again.

My physical practice has not at all been what I expected it to be this summer. I thought I would be using my spare time now to work on advancing myself to the next levels in my asanas (those which I learned from this winter's teacher training) but ended up going back to the basics, even back to my old DVDs, the ones that I used long before I even started taking classes. What I've developed is a whole new outlook and technique in my bandhas (energy locks), not only my abdominal lock, but especially my pelvic lock, as well as my breathing.

This is why I never get tired of doing a basic practice - even the simplest discoveries can totally rock one's world.

Trying to live up to one's name


This summer I am doing my best to be a better "Yogamamma" than I was this spring. In May I had promised myself to no longer stress out about my physical yoga practice. That doesn't mean that I don't have to every now and then grab myself by the collar and get down to some vinyasa business, but I am neither letting my vanity nor a false sense of what one "should be doing" trick me into jumping into the (female) hamster wheel of stress, exhaustion, and performance anxiety. Seriously - if any of those words describe how you feel about your exercise habits - how yogic does that sound?

If I were to have a single intention with this blog, I want it to act as a counter to any blog that either deliberately or accidentally makes its readers question themselves as to how much, or rather how little, they are working out. I want other yogic bloggers to at least reflect upon how much value they place on the number of sun salutations they do and the difficulty levels of their poses and compare it to how much they focus on the philosophical ideals connected to the true spirit of yoga. I'm sure most authors are sincere about wanting to develop all sides of themselves, but for some reason I am still reading too many blogs where the only yogic information offered solely has to do with the physical practice, which, without conscious thought or intention, becomes nothing more than stretching and acrobatics.

Here's some startling information that often times can be hard to to admit - I'm a yoga teacher, but I don't roll out my mat on a daily basis. And that's what works for me, seeing as I am like most other women my age: I work full time; I have a house, husband, and two kids; I have the need to at times relax and recharge (=SLEEP). If working out every day works for you, that's fantastic! But I don't think that applies to the majority of middle-aged people out there (Yes, my friends, all of us around 40-something are middle-aged, but that doesn't necessarily mean we are from the Middle Ages!).

BUT, and there is a BUT, I practice yoga every day! And now that I'm on vacation, and taking time to let things take time, I am noticing that I am feeling more in balance and harmonious than I have in a LONG time. I have so much more patience with my kids, and I can see how my change of mood is benefiting them immensely. The same goes for my husband. I have passed up many opportunities to roll out the mat by choosing to go for walks, hand in hand, with my soulmate. I've used quiet evenings (which start much later now that the kids are off from school) to either read some yoga literature or practice simple meditation. And when there's time, energy, and at least a little bit of motivation, I have been able to enjoy popping in a DVD and allowing myself to guided through different series of movements and flows.

What makes you feel good, deep down inside? Stop comparing; jump out of the wheel. Do what works for you.

That's at least what trying to be yogic means to me. And it's what I hope to instill in my kids, as well. Trust me, I have a long way to go, and now it's time for me to sign off and spend some time with my son.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Non-desire and Happy Yoga

A month or so ago some yoga-practicing bloggers recently selected the book, Happy Yoga, by Steve Ross, to their book circle. I didn't think much of it until last week, when something (intuition?) told me to buy this book. I don't often buy things on a whim, especially books. I usually compare prices online, think long and hard about if I want this particular book or if I should wait until somehting better comes along, and/or see if the books I am interested in can be borrowed from library.

As though fate wanted to speed things along, two days after placing my order with Amazon my book arrived. Now I've gotten through the first section which explains that "you can't get happy - you can only be happy". Fantastic stuff, and there's almost no mention of asana or physical practice. It's all about the philosophy which Ross so rightly claims has been lost in the Western schools of yoga. Philosophy and fun. He explains how our wants may offer short bouts of pleasure, but that they ultimately lead to pain - and wanting more. Very eye-opening stuff that is easy to read and understand.

Reading this has increased my desire to explore my inner potential through meditation. Maybe I am on the right track?

Yet, seeing as how I will probably always be somewhat of a material girl from the capitalistic empire called the U.S. of A., then allow me sign off by adding that I love my meditation pillow. It really helps me maintain a "stable, comfortable posture (=asana)" as I, eyes closed, stumble my way ahead on my road less travelled. Besides, according to Ross, it's not that we have things that is the cause of our sorrow, it's just that we're never satisfied.

And I really love having this pillow. P.S. I bought it at Vatumannen in Stockholm.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Today's outfit!

I had a middle-age-moment in the dressing room yesterday trying on a very hot, red bathing suit that I thought I could pull off. That is until I turned to see the backside.

Even if I thought my butt passed the test, the back of my thigh suddenly resembled what could happen if a 2-year-old were ever to try his/her hand at tattooing; my reflection revealed a bright blackblue spiderweb of scribbly varicose veins. "That's why," I reminded myself, "you wear surfing shorts."

My insightful 10-year-old daughter who was with me asked me later on if I was sad about that whole episode, and I dutifully answered that this is the kind of thing that happens, and I am instead happy that at least I'm healthy (which is, of course, true).

Here's another telltale middle-age-sign: many of our younger blogging counterparts add short entries with captions such as "Today's outfit" and "Tonight's outfit"! Here's what my "Morning outfit" looks like! Note the unwashed hair and tired face sans makeup ;-) .

At least I put together a matching pink yoga t-shirt with pink plaid pajama bottoms!

Friday, July 17, 2009

Why I need to keep meditating

I went to a seánce the other day for the second time in my life. I was hoping, probably as were the other 100 or so participants, that I would get a spiritual visit, either from my best friend John or my mother-in-law A-G, but that wouldn't be the case this evening.

What was interesting was that I was physically moved by just being in that room. That was definitely not the case last fall, the last time I was there. From the second I sat down, about a ½-hour before the start of the seánce, I felt a tangible amount of pressure on my lungs, head, and muscles. It was almost to the point where I felt nauseous. So I started focusing on my breath with the mantra So-Ham (I am). When the medium, Lasse, then started the seánce, he said that some of us could feel extremely tired afterwards, as a result of all the energies present in the room. I asked him afterwards if such a reaction was a sign that one was open or if one was closed, and he replied it meant that one was open. He also said that it was all about personal development, if one were to further explore those reactions.

It was a gorgeous summer evening on Öland. On my drive home I stopped in Färjestaden to walk around the harbor and think. What I got out of the evening, through some quiet reflection was the following:

I am exactly where I am supposed to be for the moment; I just don't know where I'm headed.

Meditation has obviously had a positive effect on me being able to open my energies and come in contact with a deeper level of my self.

I need to continue on the path of meditation (I hope to take a course this fall for more specific instructions) in order to shape my future reality while I learn to release my sense of desire - easier said than done!

I need to clear my mind so that I can start to be creative and dare to pursue my dreams.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

LEGO-bricks and EGO-chains



My almost 6-year-old is a complete LEGO freak. I have to bow down to my husband who refused my demands to throw out his bags of ancient LEGO bricks, claiming that one day his children would have as much fun as he once did, building and creating and such. And right he was.

I personally hated LEGO when I was little. I don't dare to attempt anything without directions or instructions. That includes everything from recipes and yoga to travelling and fashion. My ego demands guidelines because my biggest fear is getting it wrong! I repeat: my greatest fear is failure.

My son on the other hand can freebase with his LEGO. His hands can't move fast enough putting different bricks together, not knowing until he is done what it is he's constructing. But tonight he tried something new. We had just bought him a LEGO jet kit, and he very calmly opened the illustrative instructions and proceeded to methodically build a jet, step by step, piece by piece, following the blueprints to a "t". He asked for my help, and soon it was the two of us on the living room rug, figuring out which pieces were lights, wings, and noses.

That is when I am in my comfort zone. I thrive on discipline, order, and a guarantee that the finished product is going to be PERFECT. And once you know what it is, and you've completed all the steps until the instruction book can be set aside, well, then you can be as creative as you want playing with your new, perfect toy.

But is that always the right alternative? Does everything have to be built on a steadfast foundation? Or at what point is thinking outside of the box the only way to go in order to continue on the path towards developing one's sense of artistery?

How do I break out of my chains of discipline without giving in to chaos?

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Sensual seduction

Sorry to disappoint anyone looking for some online erotica, but I can tell you now that this is not THAT kind of entry. Rather it is a reflection on how the mundane act of taking a walk can completely shift my perspective through a quiet process of pure, unabashed brainwashing.

Tonight my restlessness had me feeling as though I would implode. I needed to get out, so I put on my MBT's and walked to the woods, to my stream. I felt suffocated, the way a mother who loves her children more than anything feels when she simultaneously feels she would give anything to be given a complete break from them, incapable of handling anymore of the 24/7 routine that comes along with summer vacation.

The tension seemed unbeatable, like a walk could do something about my emotional mission impossible! But on I walked. I just walked on. Not a workout kind of walk where you pump your arms and check your pulse. A walk, for God's sake, the kind where you just put one foot in front of the other.

With the wind whispering in the tree tops, I could feels its silky touch across my skin as it lifted my bangs out of my ponytail. Yet the turmoil within continued to keep its ironclad grip on my throat. So I kept on. After passing the last house before reaching the soccer fields I saw something that made me stop dead in my tracks.

The first ripened raspberry of the summer. A held out hand. Words of consolation. The warming comfort of an unselfish hug.

From that moment on things started to change. The wildflowers, some as tall as me, danced in their colorful skirts, a palette of colors and textures that could shame the fullest, brightest rainbow. The scents in the air intoxicated me and emptied my brain from all the conflicting thoughts that had invaded my mind. And as though the Universe was trying to draw some kind of paralell to where I was at that moment, the lilypads on the stream promised that their flowers would soon emerge from the moody mud banks below.

When I passed the same place where the raspberries were growing on my way back home, I helped myself to two more. And it dawned on me that never have I come back from a walk feeling anything other than better than I did before going.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Juggling acts and a riddle

At the moment I am enjoying the silence. My husband snuck out to go to work at 5:30, and the kids are still asleep. Mr. Meow, realizing I had no intention of jumping out of bed to get him food, has left his spot on my chest and is presently on a stake out from his laundry room window. In front of me lies the rest of the day.

What to do? And in what order? How will I juggle everyone's wishes and repeat the same magic act performed yesterday, the day before yesterday, and all the days prior to that?

Ok - here's the "must-do" list : A has swimming lessons, and I need to take care of the kids until P gets back from work. That's about it. Honestly, I can't let housework be a must, or in that case then me doing some yoga today is a must that ranks higher.

Nope, yoga and housecleaning are on the "things I'd like to get done today" list. Add to that making the kids happy by finding things for them to do. Luckily we have leftovers from yesterday, so I won't have to stand by the stove today.

And for some reason my "things that I would like to do while on vacation" list continues to echo its empty and sorrowful song back at me. What I would like to do, given the choice, without taking anyone else into consideration, remains a riddle to me.

picture from Google

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Short and Sweat (perhaps a little bit sweet...)

Nope. I did not have the ability to concentrate nor the stamina for a longer, dynamic session today. So instead I chose to do my Baron Baptiste "Long and Lean Yoga" which is more like a Hatha Yoga session where you do fewer poses but hold them longer, with some vinyasas in between.

Nothing (aside from Carina Bronge's Body Jam classes) gets me to break into such a sweat as this program. After 30 minutes the sweat was pouring off of me as the skies darkened, and thunder approached from a distance. My mind was begging me to just give up, but Baron assured me that I "was stronger than I thought", so I kept on. I figured that since I had done the right side, the only right thing to do was to at least do the left side as well. Suddenly my heart started pounding so much that I felt its vibrations in my ears.

And my mind surrendered, the sweet kind of surrender.

Mind you, nothing in my resistance signaled that something was wrong with me physically. I do not believe in pushing oneself beyond one's limit to the point where you relinquish control. The resistance I felt was more of a lazy, tired nature. And the compromise was to do a shorter practice instead.

Em-BODY-ment of procrastination

And when I write "em-body-ment", it is no accident. Today is the third day of my vacation. I have rested, relaxed, enjoyed time with my family, and even done some yoga along with taking walks with my husband. Today I have all day to schedule in a long yoga session to my liking, and I feel the need to focus on forward folds.

So why doesn't my body want to wake up? Why is it that once I do pamper myself with some R&R my body, instead of showing some gratitude by offering me some energy on a give-and-take basis, goes into coma mode? It's like the more I rest, the more tired I become. And instead of enthusiastically going to the studio I find myself having to drag myself there. No wonder it takes me forever to get anywhere.

And yet when I do get there I know my body is going to thank me for it.

Time to get moving, even if it's in slow motion.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Chillin'

This week the whole family has off from school/preschool/work. And we have no plans; instead we are just going with the flow. Yesterday I impulsively did a few items on my summer to-do list, but followed it up by taking the kids to play mini-golf and meeting up with a girlfriend there.

Today we ate breakfast. I sat down on the couch and read the paper. Eventually I did some yoga. I took my daughter to town for lunch and shopping. I drank coffee on the porch with my husband. I got my eyebrows plucked. We stopped by friends to pick up our son and chatted a while. We bought take away pizza. And now I am lying on the couch again with my laptop, and as soon as I am done with this entry I plan on taking a short walk to get some fresh air.

Or rather a short roll; I regret having eaten my entire pizza...

All in all, a pretty nice day.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Looking for marbles

I am officially on vacation - from work. My thoughts are like a dropped bag of marbles scattered throughout my mind. I am in the process of finding them, polishing them off, all the while hoping the bag which holds them won't yet again break at the seams.

My practice has taken a turn since attending the Anusara workshop. I am delving more deeply than ever into my breathing in the hopes of finding unleashed energy. The poses themselves seem more secondary, and it's funny because I've noticed that I become even more irritated when reading other "yoga"-blogs with entries solely focusing on topics like "I broke my neck, but at least I could do headstand - woohoo!" (excuse my sarcasm).

Meditation has been almost scary. It scares me to sit down and be still. I am afraid of the lump in my throat, afraid that it's going to cause pain and that I will lose control. And yet when I do settle down, it's like my fear was nothing more than a clap of thunder: immaterial and fleeting. However I feel I am in serious need of finding a course and a method in my mediation as well as a teacher. For the time being I am rereading "Meditation - Happiness Lies Within You", by Swami Muktananda. It comforts me to know that it is better (according to the author) to acknowledge thoughts that arise while in meditation rather than make yourself crazy by trying NOT to think.

Already it feels like the arms on my clock are moving faster than they did before my vacation. I finally sat myself down to write a list over what chores I want to get done as well as a list of activities I want to do with our kids. That, too, took some effort, actually writing these things down, being afraid that it would cause insurmountable pressure. The effect was nearly the opposite. If I just do one thing, then it will be one thing less on that list. Another clap of thunder has passed.

And now, off to find my marbles. Or maybe I'll just buy some new ones during the summer sales.

picture from Google

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Simple abundance

Walking out of the store today, I passed two white-haired ladies chatting. One had a walker; the other wore a skirt with a matching blazer. From the sounds of it they hadn't seen each other for some time. Suddenly the one with the walker ask her friend, "Can't you stop by tomorrow afternoon for a cup of coffee?"

Despite all the effort I put into fulfilling my ambitions, visions, and dreams, along with all the energy spent to prepare for my future, I have difficulty envisioning what it is exactly I am striving for.

I think receiving that very question I happened to overhear would be reason enough to feel true satisfaction with one's life. After having just listened to Barack Obama's memoirs, I realize the importance of feeling that one belongs, that one's life offers a sense of community.