Change of Venue

With the 2010 Winter Olympic games less than a year away, the excitement is building in my home of hockey, skiing and other winter sport enthusiasts. Having just "completed" the 2008 Olympic experience, watching the games from Beijing, it seems that everyone loves use the Olympic sports broadcaster's favorite line, in their arsenal of expressions: "the change of venue". Honestly, I can't remember which games I first heard the announcers begin to use this term in their everyday vernacular. It became a bit of a joke in my home, as overused as the expression was. What about change in location, event, stage, locale, area, vicinity, space, neighborhood, spot, home or even 'neck of the woods'? Just as we know the Olympic anthem of trumpets sounding, we know that "change of venue" is here to stay.


Despite the anchors at the Olympic news desks overuse of the term, it's actually not a bad thought. Changing one's place can be a tremendous boon. In my Yoga classes, I often ask my students to move their mats to different positions in the room. This keeps students (and myself) from getting into a rut of behavior patterns. It's amazing to teach with regular students in new spaces in the room. For those students who normally arrange themselves in the back, they often find class is a new experience moving up front. Conversely, students who are normally right next to me, find that moving to the back of the room can also bring their practice more personal and internal, rather than keeping an eye on everything that I'm doing. Today, I had the blessing of being able to teach in a completely different building. Only half my regular students came, which was unfortunate. Our temporary space was beautiful and had a lovely view of the waterfall on the river. Yet, some people just do not feel comfortable with change, even temporarily.


Change is very important to our continuing development. Some people embrace change in all areas of their lives. They love to move, and create new lives in new places. I had friends that moved houses 4 times in 8 years....not because of work, financial or family related needs, but because they genuinely found the creation of new homes to be invigorating and exciting. I know others who have lived in the same place nearly all of their lives. They eat in the same restaurants, and they take the same vacations. They have enormous comfort in their safe zones, and this gives them the satisfaction of knowing where they will always be. And yet, I can't help but wonder if these people are selling their lives short by not experiencing something, to quote Monty Python, "completely different".


Change is good for the soul. While we need routines to help flesh out the framework of our every day lives, little changes can bring about vast implications. Routine is important to help us pay our bills on time, get to work and take care of our basic needs. But, beyond that, looking for a bit of adventure can bring us a sense of freshness to the ordinariness of life. If you normally only read one genre of book, or watch one genre of movie, how about exchanging your chick lit for a bit of a spy thriller? If you only run on the treadmill, what about heading outside for a run on the road? If you typically eat rice or pasta, how about trying something new, such as couscous or polenta? There are small changes we can make to broaden our perspectives that aren't a life altering commitment. The fact is, if you don't like the 'new thing', you can always change back to the old way.


Changes can also be brought about in larger ways than the food we eat or the movie we watch. If you have extra time on your hands, and tend to use that in your home, how about making a one time volunteer commitment? You could volunteer at a library, an elder care center or at an animal shelter. You could serve a meal at a soup kitchen or work in a food pantry. You can mentor a young person or read to someone whose eyesight is failing. Just by changing the use of our own time, even if we can't commit to it regularly, can change your own life, and that of someone else.

One of the most important aspects of change is simply being open to it. In our very quickly changing world, it's also vital to our well being to find the adaptive nature that lies within each of us. Resistance to change can bring about great harm to our bodies, minds and spirits. While we don't need to embrace every fad that's out there, being open to new possibilities, new locations and new ways of being can both powerful and necessary. And, if changing your venue helps you to be open to other changes in life, ride the journey out and see where it takes you.

Change has a considerable psychological impact on the human mind. To the fearful, it is threatening because it means that things may get worse. To the hopeful, it is encouraging because things may get better. To the confident, it is inspiring because the challenge exists to make things better. ~~ King Whitney Jr.

Balance...with your eyes closed

Balance is a buzzword we hear every day. Women are urged to balance work, motherhood, and time for self. Men are encouraged to find the correct balance between their masculinity and their sensitive sides. Families are encouraged to discover the right balance of each member's needs and 'wants'. Magazine articles and books abound on teaching us how to find inner balance within our spirits, outer balance of juggling tasks and balance the power within our relationships. We discuss balance in economic terms, in ecological terms and even in eccentricity terms. In the extraordinary, and Oscar winning, documentary, "Man on Wire", we were treated to view the story of a dizzying, and yet, illegal, walk on wire between the Twin Towers. Still, with all of this discussion of balance, both literal and metaphorical, surrounding us, is it any wonder we so often feel "off" balance?

An exercise I enjoy employing in the yoga classes I teach is to explore simple balance poses with a twist: I ask my students to get comfortable in a simple Upward Salute on their tip toes first. We work at feeling long, empowered and strong in this asana. Then, I ask them to close their eyes. It is an amazing transformation: asking one's body to trust in how it performs without sight to gain one's bearings. It's also interesting to note my students' responses: some adore this sight deprived asana. They find it to be spiritual and profound...or at the very least, an exciting challenge. Other students do not like this exercise at all. They feel unsafe, and terrified that they will fall. Their fears are quite real, and I do respect them. As a teacher, I never ask my students to step out of the comfort zones. However, I can humbly suggest that they just give it a try, knowing they can open their eyes at any time. Sometimes facing the fear of being out of balance can help to overcome that concern.

I wish I had a great deal of wisdom to offer on balancing the many aspects of our lives in contemporary society. Unfortunately, I am a juggler, just like most people today. I believe this is one of the reason I enjoy reading about the lives of historical figures so much, as well as to read historical fiction. I understand that balancing one's personal and professional lives has always been a challenge. I find, however, that I glean more wisdom from reading biographies than I do 'self-help' books. Why? Because the stories of real people, their own struggles and their own life's work is always far more practical than listening to the "Top Ten Ways" to streamline your laundry process. Again, why? Because people's true stories are the ones that have something to teach us from experience. Pop psychology has nothing on listening to the tale of a person who, against all odds, created something magical out of nothing.

One biography that met the criteria for discovering balance, in spades, is "Three Cups of Tea" by Greg Mortenson. Mr. Mortenson was a world reknowned mountain climber, and was passionate about conquering K2, the world's 2nd largest mountain. After a disheartening and unbalanced failed attempt at scaling K2, Mr. Mortenson found himself alone in rural Pakistan, injurred, starving and in need of assitance. His failure to find balance in the mountain, however, changed his life forever. He made lifelong friendships in his rescuing village, and returned to help them build a school, since Korphe was unable to fund one before. What began as personal story of balance on a peak at the top of the world, became a global story of balance as Mr. Mortenson founded an organization to help educate some of the poorest, and most desolately isolated communities on the planet. Interestingly, I found a great deal in common with Mr. Mortenson's story, as I did in reading "Seven Years in Tibet" by Heinrich Harrar, an Austrian climber who also attempted K2's peaks just prior to World War II....and whose own failure led to a lifelong friendship with the Dalai Lama. This tale was also made into a brilliant film in 1997. In both cases, what appeared to lives falling off balance, due to failed climbs, political climates and battles with personal demons, leads to greater balance, both personally and professionally.

In closing, I can only repeat words that one of my first yoga instructors told me: if you don't fall, you aren't reaching. This doesn't mean we should all strap on backpacks and head for the Himalayas. But, it does require us to allow ourselves to be off balance, with our eyes closed, to truly understand the edges of our own limits. If experience has taught me one thing, it's that we never know what our limits are unless we test them.

"Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving." Albert Einstein

The Name Game

During the time between the rebellious 1960's and the "Greed is good" culture of the 1980's, the 1970's remained an odd enigma in history. The decade encompassed the "Free to be Me" element it gained from the previous 10 years, and was beginning to show the "It's all about Me" narcissim of the following decade. In junior highs in the late 70's in California, the girls took woodshop and the boys took home economics. (Because of this, my husband still sews better than I do...). It was a period of vast changes of perspective between the changes, brought about by the 60's, becoming permanent or going away. It was a time of growing pessimism about 'older people' knowing what's best for younger, and the older people learning to be comfortable with that concept in a way they weren't ten years before. It was a time of 'back to nature' meets 'all about the future'. Fashions had everything from Little House on the Prairie inspired granny dresses to the beginning of spandex.

When I was in middle school (then called Junior High) in southern California, in keeping with this spirit of change, there was a blizzard of name changes amongst girls my age. Many girls had grown up with traditional names, such as Katherine and Anne. These girls rebelled by changing their names to more exotic fare, such as Gypsy (inspired by Fleetwood Mac) and Sutton (predating the last-name-first trend to come). The girls whose hippie parents had lovingly bestowed upon them the types of names they wish they'd had themselves, such as Rainbow and Sunshine , rebelled against those very Bohemian tendencies, and annointed themselves more common fare, such as Allison and Tracy.

The counselors of the day advised parents to let these 12 to 14 year olds make these decisions...that they were important to their daughters' self-expression and self-esteem. The parents were certain they would do more harm than good by not allowing their daughters this critical decision in their own identity. Bohemian or Traditional, parents were cautioned that not allowing the change to occur could be detreminental to their daughters' well being. And, so, the Harmony's became Heather's, almost overnight.

Having been given a common name, so common I was always attaching my last initial when I signed my papers, I was somewhere in nowoman's land: my name neither marked me as hopelessly old fashioned, nor did it gain me notoriety in its difference and 'authenticity'. As usual, I felt in the middle. If I had thought of changing my name, it simply never progressed past the pondering stage, but it was fascinating to come to school, and almost every week, find an old friend refuse to answer to anything but her 'new' name. It confused me in the sense that one even could change her name. I wasn't particularly thrilled with mine, in 8th grade, but I certainly didn't invest enough in it to think up a new one. And, as fads like these go, the "Name Game" of the late 70's fizzled out.

It did surprise me, years later, when my own middle school age children expressed frustration at their 'boring' names. Neither one felt as if I had given any thought to what I'd named them. Obviously, this couldn't be further from the truth. But, I came to see that the act of rebelling against one's very name is simply a developmentally appropriate stage that many young teens go through. Since I am not a 1970's pop psychology mother, I told my children that they were absolutely welcome to change their names, legally, to Talon and Mimi...after their respective 18th birthdays. Like the typical mother of the New Millenium that I am, I gave them freedom to make that choice...just not right away. I wonder how many of the girls from my class would have changed their minds, had they simply waited until adulthood.

One's name is an extremely personal form of identity. People still change their names for a variety of reasons: a change in religion, marital status or belief system. Marshal McLuhan wrote, "The name of a man is a numbing blow from which he never recovers." Clearly, his perspective was one of antagnosim at the parental naming process. And yet, of course, William Shakespeare wrote, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet." The great Bard and I are in agreement that we are who we are, regardless of whether our names are bland, bold, or somewhere in the middle.

As for me, I am content with the Japanese proverb, "Words have meaning and names have power, but only if we allow them to."

Ash Wednesday

I happen to love Ash Wednesday. As an Episcopalian, the service I attend is one of penitence, humility, reverence, preparation and hope. The beauty of the Anglican language never ceases to amaze me with its elegant prose, uniting prayers and call to self-examination. By looking at the season of Lent, in even more than dateson a theological calender, we can open the pathways to greater understanding "for us and for all mankind". The altar is stripped of all outward expressions, with the exception of the barest essentials. For the next six weeks, we have the invitation to draw closer to God, as well to our own inner selves. It's an invitation I don't take lightly. I treasure this time to reflect, to examine my heart and to prepare myself to move forward inspirationally, intellectually and intentionally.

Because I did not grow up in a religious household, the true meaning of Lent has come into my life as a teen, and then as an adult. I used to admire and even envy the kids who came to school with ashes on their foreheads. I thought those ashes signified a club of which I was not a part, and never would be. The smugness that came with those ashes didn't help matters. And, of course, it made me *want* the ashes all the more. As I can to truly understand the significance of them, as a teen, I realized that the "holier than thou" attitude that came with some of the ashen as they walked into class late bearing a note, along with their forehead bearing excused badges, was completely counter to the meaning of Ash Wednesday: which is a time of sincere reflection, self-examination and true humility of 'our own faults'. The outward ashes should simply reflect the symbol of the work that's going on inside one's heart and spirit.

When I attended my first Yoga teacher training session, I was blessed to learn the following prayer:

From darkness to light;

From ignorance to knowledge;

From fear of death to the understanding of the soul's immortality.

How completely amazed I was to learn that this was not a Christian prayer, but rather an yogic one....and yet, how much it spoke to my heart about preparing for Lent, beginning at Ash Wednesday.

The quest for inner understanding, and the need to prepare ourselves to become 'that which we have the potential to be', is not unique to the Judeo-Christian traditions. Many of the Native American religions required a period of ,interestingly close to, 40 days in the wilderness to pray, fast and listen to the spirit. The Buddha wrote, "Life is but a journey. The passing years are but dust, and we shall all return to the dust." It's incredible to me that so many belief systems share such remarkably similar imagery.

Soo, it's my call to you, to light the candle of your spirit. For the next forty days, take time each day to reflect on the kind of person you are right now, and the kind of person you wish to be. Try not to judge yourself (or others, for that matter) but simply acknowledge where you are on the journey. By figuring out that you are on Start at the beginning of a quest for self-knowledge and discovery, you will already be well on your way to your destination: hopefully, a peaceful, enlightened, contented and kind soul, whichever path you may follow. It's not always easy to look inward so intently. It's even harder to truly perceive our own faults. But, because of this extraordinary time of year, in which days grow longer and brighter, we are given the gift of possibility and change.

I pray the next forty days are meaningful for you in innumerable and contemplative ways.

Powerless

We had an intense blizzard yesterday. What began as a slow and gradual accumulation of snow overnight turned into full blown (pun fully intended) white out conditions for 24 hours. While my 16 year old was thrilled with having a Snow Day (and therefore, postponing return to school, after February break, by another day), my husband and I were doing out best to keep life running smoothly, without power. We are fortunate: when my parents built this house, my visionary father had the foresight to install a generator. While the generator is a godsend (or in my case, a Dad-send), it only runs the bare essentials: heat, a few key lights and the fridge.

Although we were safe and our pantry could easily feed an Army of Huns for weeks, it was very easy to feel powerless, both literally and metaphorically. We had absolutely no control when power would be restored. We had no idea when cable and internet would come back. We found our landline phone service was sketchy at best, and there is no cell service at our house. We were, quite simply, at the mercy of Mother Nature, AT & T and Central Maine Power, not to mention, the Town of Camden's road service.

Considering the fact that I do tend to micromanage just about everything I can lay my hands on, I found myself getting very frustrated when I couldn't use my appliances, and had to light lanterns around the house. I felt powerless in the literal sense. I have such a habit of everything electronic working, I found myself walking into rooms, and switching on lights. It took me a few moments each time to grasp that *they didn't work*. The same thing happened with the stove. I tried to preheat the oven for 5 minutes before I realized that it didn't work. Thankfully, I have burners that are propane based, so I was able to light them (without burning myself) and cook up some tins of food. It wasn't a gourmet meal, but we made due. However, all I could think of was how much better dinner would have been with the oven working. Although Jeff and Joshua were perfectly content with hot dogs and beans, I felt enormous guilt that I couldn't whip up something magnificent, in a "MacGuyver meets Martha Stewart" sort of way. I felt impotent in my cooking abilities!

And yet, being powerless wasn't dreadful in the long run. Being unplugged meant I spent more time with the dogs outside, and laughing with family indoors. I was not surgically connected to the computer, the phone or chores requiring electricity. Freed from the responsibilities that come with power, I was able to ignore the floor that needed vacuuming, the laundry that needed washing and the emails I had to send. I was able to live completely in the moment, and to enjoy the blessing of a day 'off'...not just from work, but from outside distractions, as well. I was able to take the time to notice the unbelievable beauty of the Maine coast after a snow storm, and realize how truly blessed I was to live in a place that looks like children imagine Santa's home to be. I was able to devour visually the fluffy white snow against the sharp green of the evergreens, and the vivid blueness of the icicles.

While I have to admit that I was very happy when the power came back on 36 hours later, I must also say that I learned a great deal about appreciation of the peace and quiet. I just wish peace and quiet came with a Cafe au Lait.

I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it. ~ Alice Walker, "The Color Purple"

Friendship, Loyalty and Ruth

Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.

Ruth 1:16

One of my favorite books in the Bible is the book of Ruth, not the least of which is because Ruth is my middle name. The Old Testament, to scholars and historians and theologians alike, is full of metaphor, mixed with historical fact. The Old Testament is filled with images, thoughts, ideas and stories of long ago. These books are debated in Rabbinical schools and Christian seminaries. The places mentioned are among the most popular digs for archeologists. The life lessons, and ethical teachings, are still prevalent today. And yet, it's the book of Ruth that speaks to me the most, out of all the Old Testament books. Why? Because, it speaks on the level of deep abiding friendship between women, a sense of undying loyalty and perserverence in the face of wretched adversity. It's not a complex theological idea that will take me a lifetime to wrap my head around. Rather, it's a lesson in how women could, and should, behave towards one another.

Ruth is an extraordinary woman. She leaves all she knows to join her husband's household. When he passes away, and when famine threatens the land, Ruth, and her sisters in law, are released from their mother in law, Naomi, to return to their own families, where they might find a better chance of food, shelter and future promise. But, Ruth refuses to leave her aging mother in law, and instead becomes the bread winner, quite literally, insistent upon honor and kindness and a shared burden. How many women would show this type of character today? Ruth's example of standing together to face hard times was unique in her own time, and it's unique today. Her example of selflessness and hard work for another person inspire me beyond measure.

Beginning in middle school, girls are often pitted against one another. They compete, they establish territories and they torment weaker ones with 'Mean Girl' tactics. Girls can be far worse bullies than boys....because the words and manipulation they inflict can last a lifetime. They spread rumors, they malign and they instigate fear. Sadly, this behavior can continue on until adulthood with some women vying for attention by making others around them "look badly" to their mutual friends. They are competitive, back biting and disloyal, at times. It would never occur to these girls (and women) that our bond as women, and as fellow human beings, should transcend jealousy, bitterness and hostility to make oneself feel better.

Thankfully, I've been blessed with wonderful women friends. Most of us are all around the country (and the world) these days. But, with help from the internet, I'm able to glean support, kindness and friendship in much the same way Ruth gleaned in the fields. If there is one harsh reality that I wish I could spare my own daughter, it's the pain that can be inflicted from other women. And yet, underneath the pain and throughout the lessons learned, other friendships can be formed that are lasting, true and free of competition. I don't believe we can fully appreciate the trueness of loyal friendship without feeling the sting of false.

Like Ruth, I hope to become a woman of unquestioned loyalty, hard work, kindness and commitment. I hope to show love when I'm afraid. I wish I could be as courageous, in the face of uncertainty, as she was. I hope I can pass these traits on to my daughter. I hope that she will know the kind, but more difficult, path will build character far deeper and much further reaching. It doesn't make hurt caused by other girls go away, but it does make you appreciate those who are loyal all the more.

And, I'm most definitely proud to be Ellen Ruth. I have some big shoes to fill.

Bringing It Home

The expression "Bringing It Home" has many connotations. It happens to be the name of a PBS television series about fine dining in your own house. It's a gymnastics term for sticking at landing. Bringing It Home can mean winning a trophy, acing a test or bringing revitalization to a community. In the news lately, it can often mean bringing lost jobs back to the United States. I hear people talk about this expression in reference to their work; meaning they'll tackle the projects at night. I have seen people use this analogy when they mean to make a very solid point in an argument. I have also heard it used by dancers, as they finish a particularly rough bit of choreography. And yet, lately, I've been hearing this used more and more as a Yoga term. What does it mean, in a yogic sense?

For many people who practice Yoga, the entire adventure centers on going to class. In addition to regular classes they attend, many people will even go on retreats, take weekend intensives, go to resorts where yoga is offered or read Yoga Journal. Still, the very essence of Yoga isn't about going away, but rather, about coming home. I love teaching classes, and I love attending them. It's a wonderful feeling to walk into the studio and, in either role, know that the next 90 minutes will be all about the practice, without distractions and full of intent. Attending regular classes is very important: without them, we don't learn about proper body alignment or correct positioning. We would fail to connect with other people, in various stages of yoga development. We would be islands to ourselves.

Still, Yoga isn't just about attending class. Part of the wonderful feeling we have in class isn't meant to spent there, and only there. It's meant to be brought home, to share with those we love and to continue on the journey at home. An analogy I heard from a master teacher recently was, without a home practice, it would be like taking a piano lesson once a week, and then ignoring music for the other 6 days.

Unrolling the mat at home is very difficult! In my case, as focused and single minded as I am in class, I am completely distracted at home. I look at the laundry that needs to be folded, the bills that need to be paid, the dust bunnies under the chair, the meals that need to be cooked, and yes, the distraction of checking the computer. I'll give myself 10 minutes to get my to-do list partially squared away, and before I know it, I'm emailing with my cousin, and the dogs are lying on my mat. The dogs are another distraction: they see Human Mom lying on the mat, and then believe it's "Pile on Mom Time!".

Still, a home practice is essential to overall yoga well being. It connects your home self to your studio self. It gives you more opportunities for growth. It also teaches you enormous self-discipline. I am working very hard on the clutter in my house, but it is hard to escape from completely. So, I've created one small niche in which to practice: my front hall. I realize this sounds a little bizarre, but it's open, it's got wonderful natural lighting and a good mirror. I orient myself to face the door (and not into the house and its nagging projects) and just give myself whatever time I can squeak out. Interestingly, what began as 5 minutes has turned into 30. In summer, I practice outdoors, which is far more amenable to a home practice, unless, of course, you're an avid gardener. In this case, I'd suggest to orient yourself away from your weeding.

Even if you don't practice Yoga, I believe that the idea of bringing home the very best of ourselves is crucially important to our well being. How many people do you know are passionate about their work, but come home miserably? If we can share that spark of our authentic, loving and compassionate selves with the people closest to us, we have a much better chance of enjoying our 'home' personas much better ourselves.

Just make space in one corner of your house to let your true self shine....even if it means turning away from the dust bunnies.

"If one desires a change at home, one must be the change before it takes place." Gita Bellin