My Tent on The Beach

This is what the world can look like if you let it.

I’ve been really scattered lately.  Sometimes I notice that when my blog entries fall of it’s for usually one of two reasons: either I’m overwhelmed by ideas and can’t decide which one to pick that day OR I’m underwhelmed by my entire life and I’d rather stab my eyes out with hot chopsticks than keep thinking about it.  Thankfully, the recent problem has been the former. My brain has actually been “whizzing” around…stuff’s getting started and I’m thinking in 27 directions.  In the past I would just consider that busy; but I’ve actually been having inspiration in 27 different directions…thus the Thousand Points of Light. That’s a literal reference.

I think I’d be robbing you of the experience if I didn’t include a couple gems just to illustrate my point:

*I’ve been thinking all day about the dream I had in which I met Bernadette Peters at my local McDonalds for lunch.  Then we met Elaine Stritch across the street at Dunkin’ Donuts for coffee.  I’ve spent hours just on this one dream.  I’m both fascinated and a little proud that these women are in there.  Nice.

*I had a “breathing” realization the other day; all the time I think I’ve been breathing deeply…I actually had about 1/4 more room than I thought because I was holding my neck muscles so tight.  So now I’m really breathing deeply and I wonder what all that extra oxygen is doing to me.  Maybe the thousand points of light I’m seeing are actually warning me that I’m ready to pass out from over oxygenation.

*I was talking with Anna, my jewel of a yoga teacher (Anna Schabold, YogaNow North…check her out), today after class and she said the most amazing thing: that we experience the world physically and mentally and emotionally at the same time. [Pause for mind blowing.] I realized I’ve worked pretty hard to separate the two out.  So, every time I’ve experienced pain caused by my physicality (whether it be spraining my ankle or being rejected because of my physical being), I’ve only just “shut off” or isolated the pain.  You rehab the ankle or strengthen the tendon, but what do you do for the emotions that come with that?  I’ve done zero.  Thus, today I’m a mess.  Similarly, when I have emotional or mental stress (this &#*$ing graduate degree), I isolate it there and forget about the physical toll.  It was actually the latter that led me to yoga (b/c my hips and shoulders were killing me) but I think the bigger work that lies ahead for me is reconciling all of the pain my physical body has caused…and releasing it.  I shake like a leaf when I’m doing yoga…huge trembling waves…(it actually looks totally nuts…like a giant muscle spasm)…and Anna’s always like, “don’t come out of the pose…the trembling will stop…it’s energy being broken up and being released”…and by god if it doesn’t stop eventually.  Then of course, my muscles are burning like a raging fire, but no more trembling…and that’s when the work can really start. Anna and her crazy forrest yoga are changing my life. That’s like a supernova point of light.

*I want to Feng Shui my apartment.  Turns out that’s easier said than done as I can’t control the layout of the windows and doorways which apparently is central to the whole thing.  However, I’ve spent time Feng Shui-ing my bedroom and, as crazy as it sounds, I feel better.  I do.  I’m trying to comprehend this change while still trying to figure out how to reconcile all the dairy I eat which, supposedly, blocks energy.

*I saw the move Inception Friday night and I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s the rare movie that caught my imagination and will not let go.  Now I walk around wondering if people are trying to plant thoughts in my dreams.  Maybe Bernadette and Elaine aren’t so random after all.  Maybe they’re using inception to suggest I need to go to New York and see them together in that show.  Or maybe, they’re telling me that McDonald’s and Dunkin’ Donuts ain’t so bad after all.  Either way, I’ll tell ya, if Thomas Hardy is the one behind the inception, he can root around in my dreams all he wants.  That, in itself, is a dream.

See.  That’s just 4…I have hundreds of these ideas running through my head all at once.  But they’re positive, so I’m not going to work especially hard to quiet them down. It’s sometimes nice to see light, even if it is whizzing past my eyes in the style that the “Big Wheel” on the Price is Right whizzes around (thankfully, my thoughts don’t make that beeping noise or I’d go permanently insane).  I’ve been futz-ing around in the dark so long that I can say for sure that futz-ing in the light…infinitely better.

Today is one of those days.  You know the kind…my brain is just churning out a lot of thoughts that are good but really disjointed.  So, for instance, as I was waiting for my post-yoga raisin toast to prepare itself via the magic toaster this was my train of thought:

I wonder why yesterday the toaster burned the toast and today, without touching the toaster or doing anything differently, the toast is perfect? Where did I leave my flip-flops? I wonder if an all-girls high school education actually made me more masculine than many men I know? I should take a shower. Almost done with IRB. That breeze is cool. I wonder how other people experience pain?

Literally…that was in two minutes.  I walked home from yoga this morning; it took about 25 minutes and I had a lifetime’s worth of conversation with myself.  Going in 25 directions.  Whenever this happens I feel the distinct need to write everything down as quickly as possible.  There could be good nuggets of something in there which only time will reveal.  But despite this mental chattering, there was one thought I kept coming back to, I think because it didn’t originate in my brain.

In the 2 or 3 moments in between crazy shooting thoughts, I actually felt compassion.  I’ve been reading this book by Pema Chodron called The Places that Scare You and I assumed it would be a lot about fear.  It’s actually more about the opposite of fear, which as it turns out, is compassion.  Who knew?  Maybe this is where I’ve gone wrong all these years. Here’s a picture just in case you want to read (and you really should…what else are you really doing?)

Anyway I usually don’t feel ideas; I think about them, dissect them, think more about them, start to worry about them, get anxious about them, then am exhausted and can’t sleep.  That’s usual.  But, I’ve really been working on “heart opening”–I interpret it more as willing myself to feel things rather than approach them intellectually.  It’s given more dimension to my ideas; we all think a lot about love or anger or hurt.  We ultimately want to manage them, so we approach them as events and then get a plan to deal with them.  But I’m learning that if we feel them, they actually have textures…things we can grip onto a little bit and push our edges.  In other words, I think I’m learning that if we feel things, we can grow in ways that thinking about them cannot approach.

But, back to compassion.  So, I think “heart opening” is working a bit.  I was practicing feeling compassion which isn’t empathy or sympathy.  In those, we place ourselves in the shoes of others (sympathy) or recalling when we’ve actually shared the experience of another (empathy) and felt with them.  Compassion, I think, is the following step.  In compassion we stay in our own shoes, recognize the place of another (be it filled with suffering or joy), and then love them as only we can.  It’s not sharing the experience; it’s just opening our arms and loving, regardless of what happens to us or what we’ll get out of it.  I think compassion is the act of giving away love unconditionally.  We always approach that idea from the receiver’s end…I haven’t really even imagined what it feels like to give it.  I think it’s a good thing.

So this is what I’m feeling about today.  Even writing this down has slowed the chatter.  And it makes me think that in order to give this…dude, you gotta tap into a kind of strength that you just have to trust you have…because I think it’s tough.  You may hurt in the process.  But its completely worth it, I think. I mean, I feel.

Ha-HAH. Caught myself there.

So I think it would be fair to say that this spring was a tough one.  Use whatever metaphoric imagery you like, it was long and full of bumps in the road.  Doors were slamming and no windows were opening.  Mountains kept popping up left and right.  I ended up on a very stuffy mountain range of problems.  And of course in the cosmic scheme of things, my problems were relatively small.  Was I starving? No. Was I homeless? No. Did I have no shoes?  No.  Was I even walking to school uphill both ways?  No.  But while I appreciate the fact that my life could “function,” I was “less” in a lot of ways.  Vision-less, hopeless, sleepless, restless.  And some of these still persist today, but certainly not to the acute degree or the breadth that they did just several months ago.

I attribute the change to a couple things but most centrally…yoga.  It wasn’t so long ago (2 months, actually) that I regularly started taking yoga classes (not half-heartedly doing DVDs in my dining room…which I refer to as my ‘yoga studio’).  Somehow, the interaction with a teacher and other students began to work away at some of the anxieties that had built to the point of all of my ‘lesses.’  And in a way that doing yoga “at the gym” as a “workout” could never touch.  A return to the breath–the present moment–was and is the most holistically therapeutic thing I’ve ever done.  So much so, that I feel it has spurred “returns” in other places that, frankly, I thought were long gone.

“What the hell are you talking about Katie?” you must be thinking.  I understand that…the notion that enduring the burning, searing pain in my hamstrings created by a forward bend or working through the panic that arises right in my throat when I maneuver my way into a handstand or headstand could actually manifest itself in very real ways outside of the yoga studio (in this case, not my dining room) seems bizarre and crunchy-granola new agey (this is my own system of classification, just for the record).  But here’s how I’m seeing this work out:  old friends I haven’t spoken to in years have popped back up in moments that I really needed them.  (What freaks me out is that if I think real hard about it, it almost seems like I’ve “summoned” them to me…I know, I know…I’m in a panic about it myself.)  School which was an absolute albatross in February has returned as a true interest.  My financial situation–always tenuous at best–that was positively dire three months ago has positively worked itself out…and not just as a “hey I got a job at Best Buy” type of scenario but as a “hey I’m a fucking sociologist…now pay me to teach it” kind of way.  (Again, if I look hard, the Universe has clearly…CLEARLY…steered me back into the classroom in a very definitive way…and has arrange a payment system that is better than I’ve ever encountered before.)  I’ve been granted closure in the situations that were tearing me apart emotionally.  I’ve been granted insight into the most difficult challenges.  I’ve actually found in a new way what compassion means…especially in approaching myself and others with compassion.  And it’s because of those fiery forward bends and the heinous twists that make me feel like a real failure on the yoga mat.

It so interesting to really begin to understand what yoga teaches.  Everyone thinks about the “flexy-bendies”–you know, those people (usually women) who can lick their shins and turn themselves practically inside out and afterwards talk about how being a human pretzel gets them to a new level of enlightenment.  I have a new respect for them…yoga’s made them that.  But focusing on the physical stretching is just too one-dimensional; yoga has to also stretch your mind and your heart too.  Otherwise, we should call it calisthenics and be done with it.  No, yoga builds spiritual muscle-memory; it teaches you to endure, to dare, and to deal with emotions as they come and in a way that allows you to learn control and mastery of them.  Yogis talk about it in terms of detachment.  I just call it sanity.

But I’m glad I’m plugged into it.  It seems whenever I really focus on it, the Universe responds to me and returns me to exactly where I need to be.  And gives me things like this as a sign that I’m doing okay.

To say I’m a creature of habit is an understatement.  Despite my “wild and crazy” exterior (riiiight…), I love routine.  I’ve come to realize it’s a comfortable way for me to mark time.  I spend a huge part of my life waiting for the future to happen; this, admittedly, is a horrible habit that I’m trying to un-do…but I’ll tell ya it’s not easy.

Anyway, as I’ve been talking about, this “forward-looking” perspective coupled with the biggest, roiling shitstorm-of-change conditions over here have led me to what may be either my 4th or 5th mid-life crisis in the past couple weeks.  I’ve been working on re-focusing so I can free myself to do what needs to be done: get my PhD, not go insane, function in my life, find some joy.  You know…the basics.

One thing I realized is that over the past 3 years, I’ve not actively made the effort to keep things “different” or “various” or “changing.”  Of course, I realized this from a tiny little kernel of truth spoken during a yoga class last week; the instructor said to us, “okay, cross your hands like you normally would.  Now, switch it.  It’s gonna feel weird…but even that little intentional change helps us to be more comfortable with the change we find happening every day.”  She was so right…and was proven right in a bigger way by the events of last Friday.

Many of my friends in graduate school have “moved on.”  Not surprisingly, I haven’t…and because of that, I’ve been adrift in this swirl of “lost friends.”  I still see their shadows lurking around in the neighborhoods we all used to live in.  I remember the conversations we had in the bars that I walk past every day.  In that way, I’ve been living in the past.  So one of my intentions recently has been to find new opportunities to find new people to find new parts of my old self.  It sounds arduous…and sometimes it feels that way.

BUT…last Friday I got another chance to uncross and cross again.   I got a chance to turn an acquaintance into a friend…and it worked…magically.  And part of the magic was, I didn’t initiate it.  It’s been a long time since I’ve actively felt “befriended”…it was a nice change.  And the friend I think I’ve found is just comfortable and fun in the best of ways: compelling, interesting, funny, and similar. Maybe I’m technically celebrating the sameness…but this is the friend I’ve been looking for in this time and place.  And in two days, he’s breathed a kind of new life into me…and the friends I already have.

It’s been pretty interesting.  And I very much attribute it to “recrossing:”  Seeing the world in a new light and acknowledging that it might feel weird at first but that it eventually becomes another kind of reality, just ever so slightly different than the other (or last) one.

Here’s to Jerusalem*. Thank You.

*For whatever reason, when I type his name into my phone (to text or whatever) it automatically auto-corrects it to “Jerusalem.”  I have absolutely ZERO idea why…but it’s endearing…so I’ll go with it.