The Retreat

After coming back from retreat last week, I’ve had some time to reflect about the whole event. I didn’t just learn yoga therapy from the presenter, I also had the opportunity to interact with many other women teaching yoga across the country. What struck me was just how similar all our experiences have been, first finding yoga during a time of crisis, and then moving forward into the light to teach it. I heard a number of stories that sounded so close to the narrative on my own bio that it was remarkable. After awhile I wasn’t sure what to do with this small epiphany, that my story really wasn’t that unique. If it’s not that special, then why do I feel the need to keep putting it out there? And is it really any better than the accounts of other teachers?

One woman I met shared how finding yoga had brought her out of the darkness of an abusive marriage and depression. The first time she did Shavasana, she just cried and cried. Her first teacher really hadn’t known much about yoga or how to teach it, but she knew they were supposed to do Shavasana at the end. That is all it took, doing Shavasana. She just stopped long enough to feel and witness her breath; this was the core to every story I heard. There is nothing complicated about it. Following the breath connects people to their true nature, and they feel the spirit within them. It is a universal experience that has been with us since the beginning.

Remembering that our experiences are universal and maybe not so unique is what keeps us as part of the whole and hopefully leads us away from making our teaching be “all about us.” The more, as teachers, we try to hold onto our stories, trying to make them better than someone else’s, the less spiritually grounded we become. We have to share our history, and I believe we are called in some way to convey it, but in the end the story is about the knowledge of the Spirit within and not about us.

Samadhi in the ashram is easy

We are having a much needed break from the heat today! The cool weather gave me so much energy that I think I about killed my class this morning. There was a lot of groaning. I just got back from a yoga retreat about a week ago, and I’ve had the worst time with “re-entry.” Since returning it seems that I’ve lost the ability to multi-task! My kids are just circling me, “mom, mom, mom, are you listening?” I guess I got so blissed out listening to my friend Doug’s pranayama voice that I’m just not ready to face real life yet. We are running out of milk, bread, and TP. Real life is calling me back to Super Target. (I only go to Wal-mart for duct tape).

As the reality of motherhood bursts back into the forefront of my consciousness, I’m realizing how ridiculous some of the things are that I say and hear. In yoga we talk about, “witnessing our own consciousness.” We learn to watch our thoughts and be aware of the spirit within. Well, in my case the watcher and the one being watched are having some pretty crazy conversations.

For instance, yesterday I heard myself say:

“Why are your sister’s underpants on the overhead fan?”
And then I thought to myself, “Did I really just say that?”

“You two sound like rowdy boys. When did I suddenly get boys?”
And then I thought to myself, “Man, school needs to start soon.”

“Mama needs a gin and tonic.”
And then I thought to myself, “Mama needs a gin and tonic.”

Here are a few things I’ve heard since I’ve returned:

“Look, I’ve made a submarine for my stuffed dog. Can I try it in the bathtub?”
And then I thought to myself…well actually, I thought nothing. I had no response.

“Mom, are you mad I’m playing submarine in the bathtub?”
And then I thought to myself, “Wow, you should really respond to her in some way.”

“Here is a crown I made for you mom. You are queen of cooking.”
And then I thought to myself, “Better get out those frozen pizzas for the kids.”

Duck Tape

Yes, that’s right. Duck tape, not Duct tape. Here in Oklahoma, we take our duck tape seriously. After all, we can make or fix almost anything with it. Most importantly, it’s cheap. I’ve seen rear-view mirrors on cars that are still functioning perfectly with about 8 layers of the silver-slick stick holding them on. We also use it to secure broken windows on our cars until such time as we can find money to replace the window, if we ever do. We might be poor, but we are resilient, and we figure out a way to tape the car back together in order to get to work on time. Duck tape can be thrown in on a garage sale deal, for example, “I’ll give you the dresser for $40, and I’ll throw in 2 rolls of duck tape, but that’s my final offer.” It can also be used to repair the $2 flip-flops you bought at Wal-mart three years ago. Wal-mart is also where you can get the best deal on “duck tape,” by the way.

So Taz, my little daughter, was over playing at a friend’s house and came home with all sorts of duct, I mean duck, tape creations. Evidently, a whole little craft booklet has come out showing children how to make everything, including clothes, with duck tape. When Taz decides she wants to do something, well you had better be in the car taking her there, or she won’t stop asking. At dinner, at the pool, while I was trying to work at my computer, Taz would blurt out the words, “DUCT TAPE.” Slim seemed only mildly amused by this new interest, so I was forced to make the journey to Wal-mart.

I don’t like going to Wal-mart, for all the reasons that everyone else doesn’t like to go to Wal-mart, but somehow when you have kids, you just end up there without really knowing how you got there. True, I was driving the car, and I could have taken us to SuperTarget, but let’s face it, the Super T isn’t going to be as cheap. After wandering around for awhile through the maze of toiletries, hardware, outdoor gear, and linens, we finally found the cherished duck tape isle. The tape was $2.50 a roll, so I told Taz that she could have 5 rolls. I told her to enjoy her 5 rolls because those poor children who have nothing would only get ½ of a roll from the garage. And it would be silver. I had no idea you could now get duck tape in ten different colors.

Since I was there anyway, I thought I should pick up a few other things, and so we started wandering aimlessly towards the grocery section. While in the bread isle I ran into some young men who looked like they were working hard to become “good ole boys.” They were covered in tattoos, with cut-off jeans and muscle shirts, along with flip-flops and earrings. They all looked freshly scrubbed as if they’d just gotten out of bed and showered (it was 4 pm). I started listening into their conversation, and it turned out that they were struggling with how much hamburger and buns to buy for their party. Clearly, this was a boys outing. They didn’t have their women with them, and no one seemed to know how many hamburgers you could get out of a pound of meat. “So you boys look like you are having a b-b-q!” I hear myself say. The whole gaggle of young men all turned and stared at me, and their leader, looking relieved, says, “Yea, how much hamburger do we need to make hamburgers for 10 guys?” Well, that is actually a complicated question, considering these guys could all probably eat 3 burgers each. I figured this was not a good time to tell them that I was a vegetarian. “My mom always made 4 burgers from a pound of meat,” I explained. Then all eyes looked up as they tried to do the math in their heads. What they lacked in math skills, they made up for with good hygiene and manners.

So the journey for duck tape came to an end. We ended up with: A foam pillow, some soap, fresh pears, soy burgers, hamburger buns, 5 rolls of tape, and one extremely happy Taz. ps. pic 1 is a CD case, pic 2 is a wallet, and pic 3 is a storage box.