This time of the year, as the weather warms and the trees start to bloom, everyone in my neighborhood begins to come outside and putter around their yards. It’s like a big neighborhood community stretch after the dark cold retreat of winter. We are talking over the fences or sometimes in the middle of the street, exchanging gardening and yard care advice, petting dogs, and looking at the new babies. The ice storm this year took out a few of our trees, and we’ve all watched with regret as some of the rest have had to come down.
I’ve been getting out in the yard myself, helping Slim plant some more seeds in his garden extravaganza, and I’ve been considering starting in on trimming the holly bushes, but I’m not in a big hurry. In the early spring, I feel like a big bear that is coming out of hibernation. Or in my case, I am a small mama bear. I’m slow to start, but by mid April I’ll be going strong. Winter has always been difficult for me. The lack of sunlight and the cold just puts me in a funk, and I lose my motivation to do much. Most winters I function just fine doing my yoga and meditation and making myself go outside and walk the dogs. This winter, however, has been particularly hard as I got into a bad virus cycle. You moms reading this know what I am talking about! The kids give you a virus, and then you push through it, and then just when you are over it, they give you another one, and on and on. Once my immune system gets taxed, then it’s hard to get out of the cycle, and I just pray for spring to come.
This winter I found myself in a real funk. I think the official term is “seasonal depression.” Nobody likes to talk about this or admit that they might have it, but I’ve found lately through conversations with my friends that lots of people struggle in the winter. It is incredibly common. The best words I can find to describe it, is that it felt like somehow my internal fire was flickering on and off. Somewhere deep inside me the energy and light that usually bursts out of me (often driving others crazy with a lot of bubbly talk) was on hiatus. I found myself watching TV, which I usually don’t do much, and I was watching stuff like reruns of Heat of the Night. You know it is always the same thing on Heat of the Night: Someone gets killed and then Chief sends out Mr. Tibbs and the officers to investigate. After not solving the crime for awhile, Bubba goes and talks to Mrs. Tibbs, and she helps figure it out.
I knew I needed to get moving, get back on my mat, and back sitting in meditation, but I was struggling to do it. I’ve got two people in my head, the grounded inner voice that knows what needs to happen, and another surly girl I call “bad bec.” They have arguments.
Inner voice: “Get up and walk the dogs.”
Bad Bec: “Too cold.”
Inner voice: “Go find your mat and do some sun salutations you’ll feel better”
Bad Bec: “Whatever.”
Inner voice: “Let’s go sit and meditate”
Bad Bec: “Let’s watch Matlock.”
I’ve found through my yoga practice that the only way to balance out this internal argument is to focus on my breathing – by meditating on my breath. For some reason just sitting, even for ten minutes, and attempting to focus on my breathing will send Bad Bec somewhere deeper into my mind. I don’t want to get rid of her entirely, because she is a pretty funny girl, but she cannot be in charge.
Each of us has within us a voice of groundedness, a place of inner peace, that when we quiet our minds long enough to hear, will lead us through anything our lives bring. The other day a student of mine came out of shavasana (the ending meditation in a yoga practice) and blurted out, “wow, after that maybe I won’t have to yell at my kids today.” In the end, this is what the practice is about; learning to find a place of internal eternal quiet, learning to feel the constant comforting inner fire, and then learning to live your life from that place. This is what I wake up every day and try to teach people, but I sometimes derail for a bit and forget to stop and practice myself. Wherever I find myself, wherever I wake up, I can find my breath and make my way home.
One of my yoga teacher friends sent me this quote:
"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." -Albert Camus
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