The Karma Garage

Meditation Group

2009-11-27T06:48:00.003-05:00

Every first Friday of the month, The Karma Garage transforms into The Dharma Garage.
For details, check out this link.

http://www.meetup.com/The-Dharma-Garage-Talk-and-Meditation-Group/

2009-06-14T11:59:00.000-04:00

Garudasana at the Garage!

2009-04-15T23:22:00.000-04:00

New Saturday Class!

2009-02-04T21:23:00.018-05:00

You are all welcome to join our new Saturday class from 12:00 to 1:30.

Come park your mind

drive your body

and tune your spirit

with special attention to your alignment

at the Karma Garage

where we bring life to our yoga

and yoga to our lives...

in more ways than one!

"Enlighten Up"

2009-01-13T09:10:00.002-05:00

Which begs the question...

How has yoga changed your life?

Hunterdon Health and Wellness Center in Clinton

2008-12-30T18:09:00.016-05:00

http://www.hunterdonhealthcare.org/services/primary_care_wellness/wellness-clinton.asp

Well the times they are a-changing, and it looks like these times are sounding a call for my return to Physical Therapy.

I have just accepted a job at the Wellness Center in Clinton.

I AM VERY VERY VERY EXCITED ABOUT THIS!

But never fear, yogis and yoginis.

The Karma Garage lives on!!!

Please stay tuned for schedule changes in February. I will do my best to open a night class, and I will continue to see students privately for yoga, Thai yoga massage, and meditation.

I welcome, as always, your emails, phone calls, as well as comments here at this blog.

Faithfully Yours,

Val

The Bees Knees

2008-12-11T23:26:00.143-05:00

These days at The Karma Garage we are paying a lot of attention to our knees. And by paying attention, I mean that we are strengthening and stretching all of the muscles that cross these wondrous hinges. With balanced strength and flexibility across a joint, we gain stability – especially appreciated, if underneath all these muscles, our ligaments are in any way compromised.

Lets see how one pose can be used to strengthen all four muscular walls of the knee. I give you - Utkatasana.

In this powerful pose, we have the quadriceps in the front, working to hold the knees in place, and the hamstrings in the back, working to hold the hips in place. If we then add a yoga block between the thighs (and we do - just ask Jim), we can enhance the work of the inside thigh muscles. We can then remove the block and strap a yoga belt around the thighs (oh yes we can!) to get the outside muscles working. Yee Haaaaaa!

But here's the key. The feet must be balanced.
All the strengthening work in the world will offer our knees very little benefit if our knees are not aligned, and as usual, alignment begins where our feet hit the ground.

In yoga we place a lot of value in developing awareness of the four corners of each foot – one at the base of the big toe, one at the base of the pinky toe, and two at the back “corners” of the heel. If we balance our weight distribution evenly over these four corners, our arches will be honored, our ankles will be supported in neutral, and they will then be in an excellent position to better inform our knees.

Awareness of the four corners of each foot benefits us, when we do things like.... squeeze a block between our thighs in utkatasana. : ) The first thing you may notice in this endeavor is that you lose pressure through the outside corners of the feet, and then, because everything in our bodies is connected, the medial arches of the feet will begin to collapse, after which the insides of the knee joints will begin to gape, and the medial collateral ligament of each knee will be on its way to laxity; a state of instability, which is an unfortunate predisposition for degeneration of the knee joint surfaces - aka - arthritis. So we ground the outside corners of the feet a bit more, thus learning to take very good care of our knees.

You can imagine that when we do the opposite work, pressing outer thighs into a yoga belt, it is likely that we will lose grounding of the inside corners of the feet. The job becomes to exert more pressure through the inside corners.

We are doing the work of yoga. We are getting curious about making connections between opposites: the outward movement of the thighs with the increased need for grounding of the inner corners of the feet. We discover balance - alignment - stability - awareness - and so much more.

The beauty of this lesson is that it transfers to every standing pose in yoga - every single standing pose. And actually? The four corners of our feet give us very important information even when we turn our selves upside down. Most importantly, we can take this information off the mat, and try it out in "real life". I invite you to take this lesson on as your experiment. Even now! While you're sitting down at this computer! (Did your spine just lengthen?)

Onward.... What about balancing flexibility all around the knees?

1. Down dog to stretch your hamstrings and gastrocs (calf muscles).

2. Pigeon variation (eka pada kapotasana variation) to stretch your quads.
(Please feel free to drop that right arm and hold the left ankle in your hand or use a yoga belt to catch the ankle)

3. Revolved triangle (parivritta trikonasana) to stretch the outside muscles (iliotibial tract).

4. Straddle pose (upavista konasana) with legs up the wall to stretch the inside muscles (long adductors).

All of these poses can be varied to accomodate your needs. Please never take any written advice as a prescription. Instead, you can try these poses on to see if they fit you, adding props to preserve alignment and offer support. Have a conversation with these poses, listening very closely to your body, engaging your body with a spirit of curiosity and compassion. Please, take any questions you still have to class. Of course you are also very welcome to dialogue here.

Now.... It is time to connect the knees to the hips.
In many ways, the hips are like the parents of the knees, dictating what is safe for our knees to do - especially in yoga class. Unfortunately too many yoga students have taken their knees into poses like lotus and hero pose without the hips' permission. The knees were just minding their own bees wax, when they got forced somewhere they could not go, and they certainly suffered the consequences.

Take lotus (padmasana).

Here, if the hips do not have sufficient external rotation (rolling out of the thigh bones), the lateral collateral ligaments of the knees will find it for us - by overstretching or even tearing. Pinching the medial meniscus is another possible scenario. There's cartilage damage to be done. And muscles to be strained - like the possibly overzealous sartorius or adductor longus taking on more than it can handle.

You don't have to tease all these possibilities apart. What you do have to do is listen to and respect your body. The knees know. The knees know.

On to hero pose (virasana).

If you have enough knee flexion to actually sit down between your shins, the question becomes - do you really have enough internal rotation at the hips (rolling in of the thigh bones), because if you don't (and many of us don't - it's anatomical)...the medial collateral ligament may accommodate your wishes by overstretching and possibly even taking a bit of meniscus along for the ride. Again - ask your knees. If there is pain, especially along the inside of the knee joint, you must back off. It may help to sit up higher on a block or two, and also, it's very important to keep your shin bones tucked in close to your thigh bones with your ankles in neutral.

Well, we have begun a conversation about knees here. And I believe I will continue this line of thought into the next blog - perhaps something about the vastus medialis obliquus - because you know - I really care about your patella tracking, too.

And also because - I think you're the bees knees.

Bodhichitta

2008-05-06T22:04:00.054-04:00

B o d h i c h i t t a.

This is my favorite word.

Today we began class with this word.

While the students were slumbering in a restorative twist, I told them how much I just love to say this word - B o d h i c h i t t a.

Bodhichitta is Indian Sanskrit, and it means awakened heart. Actually "chitta" means both heart and mind, since in Indian Sanskrit, there is no distinction between these two places.

We could say that an awakened heart is one definition of enlightenment. Somehow, that can feel like a pretty tall order.

I like the description of bodhichitta as ... s p a c e.

We have been working a lot lately with BREATH - and its relationship to space. The instruction has been to follow the journey of an inhale from its beginning to its end. I like this exercise, because for me it produces the same effect as listening to a very long gong at the beginning of a meditation practice. I can s t a y with that gong from its beginning to its end. There's a sense of travel - of taking me along - but afterwards, it won't be long before I l e a v e.

Unlike the gong, which returns only once again at the end of meditation class, an inhale is followed by an exhale, which is followed by an inhale, and this cycle is infinite (almost). The breath is so beautifully suited for working with being present, because breath itself is always present. Yet, it is never still. It is always moving. And in this way, it is also beautifully suited for teaching us something about life - there is nothing to hold on to.

After awhile of travelling the breaths from beginning to end, I asked the students to notice that place after the inhale and before the exhale - after the exhale and before the inhale - the place between breaths. In that place, there is a g a p. There is s p a c e. There is s t i l l n e s s. A place to rest. To rest the mind. This place is b i g.

Space is so very very big.

A couple of months ago we talked about the idea that time is big. Well, I had just read this idea in a yoga magazine; and it was funny to me, because I used to see a therapist in New York, who in all our time together, offered me only one certainty in life (thankfully leaving out death and taxes): "there is never enough time". At the time that worked for me, because it taught me the meaning of good enough. Now, however, reading this phrase "time is big" - hmmmmmmm - this feels so much more OPENING - not so constrictive as "there is never enough time".

Probably most of us are usually trying to accomplish more than is possible. We continually run out of time. We feel pressured for time. Doing less doesn't seem like an option. Or what about those times, when you find yourself stuck in traffic. WORSE - there's no traffic, just a very slow driver in front of you. Do you feel tense right now just thinking about that?!! Does it feel like I'M GONNA BE LATE?!! Or imagine you are actually not going to be late for anything, but still, you just want to go FASTER!!!! You could say..."time is big". And something might loosen. Open. You still won't get where you want when you want, but that's totally out of your control right now (pretend there's no way to pass). If time could feel bigger, you might stop cursing out that so-and-so in front of ya. : )

In class I often cue students to widen their collar bones or their hips. Today, I confessed that really you can do neither of these things. The point is that when you, at least with your mind, widen your collar bones or your hips, you may experience a sense of expansion, of opening, of space.

Aaaaaaaaaaaah s p a c e.

Space has an interesting power. It dissolves barriers. It dissolves separation. It connects us.

Some yogis are surprised when I say that the point of yoga and meditation is not to go inward. It is to open outward. Yoga means "to yoke" - to connect. We connect body, mind and spirit. We connect movement with breath. We connect the spaace inside us with the space outside us. We connect with gap.

Recently, I heard Pema Chodron give a meditation instruction that she heard from another teacher. "Have you ever noticed that between your thoughts, there is a gap? .... Make the gap bigger."

Gap is the experience of bodhichitta. The experience of opening out to the world. We can touch in on this place between breaths, between widening shoulders, between widening intervals of thought.

Or we may touch in on this place with a fully experienced emotion. To suppress an emotion - to not fully experience it - is to separate ourselves from our own selves and from everyone around us - to close down. To fully open up to an emotion is to open out. The fully experienced joy of a sunset is opening. The fully experienced sadness of a loss is the same. Loneliness is like that also. When we learn to make space to fully experience our emotions, we learn that we are not alone with any of this. We ALL feel these things. Just like me, that person feels angry. Just like me, that slow driver ahead also knows frustration. The walls crumble. The separation dissolves. The space opens up to the size of IT ALL.

So we can work with space.

Lightly.

We can touch in.

Tap in.

Tap into the nourishing infinite spring of bodhichitta.

Come on in, as they say....the water's fine.

And so is the space.

Kids Yoga Party!

2008-03-30T15:34:00.003-04:00

Happy birthday, sweet five year old Dylan.

Thomas the Tank does yoga.

Being Present

2008-03-27T00:15:00.026-04:00

Just over a year ago, I experienced an affliction of the most babbling mind on earth - a mind possessed by all things outside me. And though I knew how to meditate, had practiced yoga for many years, drenched myself in Buddhist readings, believed with the strongest conviction that I should "Be Here Now"...I couldn't. I couldn't be present. I didn't even know what it was.

I went for long bike rides. There were many days of long bike rides on the Delaware Canal path and all over the beautiful countryside of Bucks County, Pennsylvania. Bike rides do seem to have a way of clearing the cob webs of the mind, and I would experience an ease, a loosening....but not presence.

In fact, I can remember trying so earnestly to be present that I'd be talking to myself - "I am seeing the canal, I am seeing this meadow, I am feeling the rumble of the earth beneath my wheels, I am sweating". A narration of observations. Such an enormous effort! Kind of like contracting a muscle as tight as you can, so you know you have that muscle. You actually feel less when you're all locked up. All the subtlety is gone.

To be alive so long and to not truly be able to experience presence seems a very peculiar thing. How can it be such a difficult skill and not just a natural tendency? I am alive. I should know how to feel fully alive. How can I not know how to be present?

What IS presence?

Before I began writing this blog, I googled the topic. I found nothing I believed. It's weird that so many of us agree we need to be present, but seem to have little idea what that really means. Presence seems so illusive. Subjective. We're all making up our own definitions. Hallmark writes cards about it.

I think that it's probably not subjective at all. It's universal. It's the same for all of us. And it either takes tons and tons of practice to achieve or it arrives in an instant - unannounced - like in the face of a beautiful sunset or in the pain of a broken heart. Life has its ways of waking us up, and all of a sudden, we're Here - Now. Then the sunset is over, or the broken hearted brain moves into action, and we're...There - Then. Lol - someone should write that book - "Be There Then".

Well, I can happily happily report that I am now a great dabbler in the present moment. And so I think I may have discovered why being present is such a hard thing to write about, and why googling it turned out to be so dissatisfying.

I can't describe it.

Yet, I'd say, being present is not much of anything. It's just being in my body. Being really in my body. And to elaborate would probably bring me further away from what I mean. BUT I will say that it has been my meditation practice - my meditation and my yoga - that has helped me immensely to know the home that is me. To feel whole and connected inside my body, inside this moment - to have a sense of immediate contact with me, not removed by one step, not distanced by narration.

From this very grounded feeling of being inside my skin, I become more connected with all the space outside me. For one second here. For one second there. But most importantly - for when I need it. I have access. I can come back to me. And be part of it all. And I can stay.

When I need to - like a well trained dog - I stay.

I am here now...for at least some of the moments.

What some lovely yogis and yoginis are saying about The Karma Garage

2008-03-13T09:22:00.014-04:00

Val's yoga class is a phenomenal experience to improve strength, flexibility, balance, stress relief, posture and movement quality. She tailors it to each individual's needs with cues for alignment and her gentle touch is just righ. As a fellow physical therapist, she plans the sessions with vast expertise and progression focusing on different areas of the body each session. The setting is beautiful - peaceful and relaxing and her choice of music is very fun! I highly recommend taking a class to see for yourself!
Laura Davison PT

The Karma Garage yoga experience with Val Turner is a beautiful one.
Val gently guides you through the yoga experience in her beautifully
designed studio filled with light and comforting colors. I have taken yoga for many years but Val adjusted my postures in ways that are new to me and that my body could immediately feel were taking me where it wanted to go. In her class, I feel cared for and very comfortable.
Janet Hudak Boddy

A session at the Karma Garage is wonderful for the body, the brain, and the soul.
Val attends to each individual in the class, challenging, coaxing, supporting, and
celebrating with us. The class is filled with good humor, good music, and fun!
Colleen Maloney

I love Valerie's attention to detail and ability to know just what I need. With a great sense of humor, she guides me to working with my body and a level of awareness that is hard to achieve on my own.
My only regret is that I can't get to the Karma Garage as often as I need or want to!
Best Regards,
Karen

Hi Val,
You introduced me to yoga this year and at first I must admit, I was unsure. Because of my own fears though. You totally make a person feel very comfortable and make it known that it’s possible for anybody to participate. You know just how to adjust to what that person is capable of doing. I leave tired but I also feel all the stress that I carry around with me is gone for a while. It amazes me how much stress I feel on a normal basis and how for that little time after Yoga It goes away. Thank you for your patience and kindness. It’s a pleasure to know you.
Terry

Hi Val,
I would like to thank you immensely for your yoga instruction. I had some experience with yoga years ago. I tried it on my own and didn't get very far and was probably doing everything wrong.
Since I started with the Karma Garage this past January, I have been feeling great and you have done things for my neck that are marvelous. Even though I am a beginner, you inspire me to try to improve to a more advance level. You make the class about body and mind. Your facility is class A, with an at home feel. You've definitely made yoga a big part of my life.
I would recommend your classes to everyone.
jim e roney (@)==#

hi val
just wanted to let you know how very much i enjoyed class yesterday. it's just what i've been needing for a long time. i was sore last night, and tired but i slept well and feel like my body got some use in parts that hadn't been moved in ages.
d

Val,
I miss The Karma Garage!!!! After my first class I felt such an overwhelming sense of relaxation but with an adreneline edge....like after really great sex. Tired, relaxed, and oh so happy in my body!
Laura L.

I am so grateful and honored to have worked with all of you.
Namaste.
Val

2008-03-03T20:29:00.003-05:00

Thank you, Terry, for this beautiful, beautiful blessing.

Restlessness

2008-02-07T00:15:00.001-05:00

Recently, while driving, I was listening to a DVD (already speaking volumes about my restlessness with driving), when I heard one of the characters quoting Pema Chodron. Well that was fun and unexpected for me. The quote was something about restlessness being a signal for us to listen more closely. There was no elaboration on the meaning really, which is probably why I'm still thinking about it today.

I sure know a lot of restless folks. People who seem to always have to be doing something - lots of "useful engines" out there, as Thomas the Tank would say. I wonder what they would feel if they stopped all that moving around. Boredom?

Someone once told me that someone once told her that boredom is the waiting room for feelings. Is that the thing we need to listen to more closely? When we're restless? If we just stay restless and bored, what will come up? Are we listening for our feelings?

I don't think of myself as one of those useful-engine-types, but goodness gracious I don't want to know how many times I check my email a day. When I think of all the mindless tasks I find myself needing to do... Eating. Cell phone calls. On-line Scrabble. : ) Always filling up space.

Some of us meditate, and boy is there is a lot of space there. Trungpa Rinpoche said that you have to sit to the point where you're just bored. Then sit through the restlessness of boredom. You may come to a place called cool boredom - that place where you're just okay being bored, and there's no compulsion to jump up or fill up the space. When my yoga teacher explained this to our class, I remember raising my hand to ask "then what happens?" She exclaimed, "Enlightenment!" Alright then.

Think I'll be restless for a long, long time.

In yoga we move a lot. But then again, there's a lot of staying. Especially in places where we'd rather not stay. Ever get left in suptavirasana for more than 5 minutes? Well THERE'S an exercise in restlessness for ya. How do you find cool boredom in suptavirasana? How do you get comfortable with being uncomfortable?

I think it takes a whole lot of compassion towards oneself. Loyalty to oneself. Steadfastness with oneself. I think it's like making friends with yourself. If you've ever had a friend you could sit silently with, neither of you feeling the need to fill in the space with conversation, both of you just so comfortable sitting together with all the quiet and no awkwardness - I think that's the kind of friend you need to be to yourself. Then maybe when something comes up - something that you should probably listen to closely - something uncomfortable perhaps - something that has enough restless energy to send you running to begin some important new project (where is that Swiffer mop?!!!), maybe you (I) could stop and stay, and with all the loyalty of a good friend, we could then tell ourselves that it's okay. Pull up a seat. Stay awhile.

Next time I go for a long drive, I can't wait to pop in the next episode of my show, and see what happens to that character's restlessness. Or maybe...I won't. Maybe I'll just drive...and see what happens to MY restlessness.

A Mat of Your Own

2008-01-21T23:24:00.000-05:00

Pema Chodron says that the ego is like a room of your own...

"...a room with a view with the temperature and the smells and the music that you like. You want it your own way. You'd just like to have a little peace, you'd like to have a little happiness, you know, just 'gimme a break.' But the more you think that way, the more you try to get life to come out so that it will always suit you, the more your fear of other people and what's outside your room grows. Rather than becoming more relaxed, you start pulling down the shades and locking the door. When you do go out, you find the experience more and more unsettling and disagreeable. You become touchier, more fearful, more irritable than ever. The more you try to get it your way, the less you feel at home."

Actually, I'm pretty partial to having things go my way. And oh how I do like a room smelling of lavender, warm enough to sit around in yoga clothes, and the sounds sprinkled with acoustic indie beats. Also, I would not mind a gift certificate to Euphoria for my birthday. :)

Yeah, but life sometimes smells more like kitty litter, and feels like stiff joints, and is there any end to the problems that come knocking at our doors? How long will we let ego continue to delude us, when really most of the time it's quite impossible to have things go our way?

Not even in yoga. Not even on your mat (though if you happen to be at The Karma Garage, your mat actually IS in a beautiful room infused with lavender and melodic guitar notes - wink, wink). But your warrior pose might have just gone on 30 seconds longer than seems reasonable. Your fingers might never touch your toes. Muscles may spasm.

We could say ego is like a mat of your own. A mat where yoga flows effortlessly, muscles rise to every occasion, balance is never lost. But when that doesn't happen, what do you do? ...Try to notice that next time... Do you close the windows? Draw the shades? Lock the door. Close down? Beat yourself up? Fight with your body? Wish it were different? Wish you were different?

I used to encourage people to leave their egos on the coat rack before they entered the studio. But you know full well that ego is gonna hop off that hook and follow you right into class anyway. Probably gonna park its butt right behind you - like a shadow - maybe even keep up an ongoing dialogue.

We may continue to desire that perfect room and that perfect mat for a long, long time. But slowly...slowly...as we continue to practice...as we continue to cultivate curiosity about the situation, watching the habits of our mind with more awareness, introducing humor into the whole picture, having a little laugh at what a big deal we make of it all, always working with a spirit of loving kindness towards ourselves...slowly...that ego might begin to recede, becoming a smaller and smaller shadow...with less and less to say on the matter. Then our yoga practice comes to rest within the embrace of all that is difficult and all that is inescapable and all that is YOU...finding its own unique flow...bumps and all.

We could invite that flow right off our mats and into our lives - windows, doors and shades opening wide to a space where we can feel less separate - more connected - with it all.

We could practice that - feeling at home - on the mat as it is.

Kids Yoga at The Karma Garage

2008-01-05T18:46:00.000-05:00

By appointment.

Call Val for details.

Thoughts and Postures

2007-12-08T21:17:00.000-05:00

Did you know that 50 to 80% of the adult population will experience back pain at some point in their life? 40% of us have back pain in any one year. Back pain is one of the most common causes of disability in the working population.

I am taking a physical therapy continuing education course right now, called Mechanical Diagnosis and Therapy, and I have just learned that on average we flex our spines (you are not going to believe this!) one thousand times a day. ONE THOUSAND! Every time you lean forward, pick something up, sit down, get up, wash your hands, grab some milk from the fridge, put a dish in the dish washer, slide a mop across the floor...you are flexing. Life is flexion!

Well this is not good news really, because the predominant source of all back pain is disc bulging or herniation, and 98% of the time, the culprit is flexion. Are you sitting right now? Are you sitting slouched? That's flexion.

(Here you can see the dark blue nucleus at the center of the disc, migrating towards the back of the spine - it is being squeezed like the jelly in the middle of a doughnut - it is bulging - as a result of flexing the spine - a lot.)

On day one of this physical therapy course, the instructor said something that did not leave me for three days. He said that back pain is normal.

Back pain is normal.

Well that was such a strange statement to me, and so, I have to confess, I have never thought of pain as normal. I thought of it more as a mistake, I suppose, the result of an accidental occurrence, the consequence of injury. I just never thought of it as normal. But I do like this thought. It feels very familiar to me.

The first principle of Buddhism is that life is suffering. Now there's a thought that tends to make a lot of folks a tad bit ticked off. And boy oh boy, the Buddhist principles get worse before they get better, because the second principle is that we actually create our own suffering. Thankfully, the third one says we can prevent future suffering, and the fourth one explains how. There is light at the end of the tunnel.

Well today, I am as curious about pain, as I am about suffering, and I have been pondering the possibility that we create pain or escalate it, by losing touch with the present moment - but also how natural a thing that really is to do (given that we flex ONE THOUSAND times a day!), and what a wealth of information there is to learn from the experience of this. Mostly, though, I am thinking about slouching.

The lessons of flexion have been magnified for me these past three days. Well, for one thing, I have been sitting for 8 hours a day in class. And for another thing, I have been driving 2 and 1/2 hours twice a day in order to attend this class. That's 39 hours of sitting so far and one day to go. I HAVE BEEN SITTING A LOT. I am really having to work with this posture.

I shift around endlessly. I sit on my right hip, sit on my left hip, the front of my sit bones, cross-legged, resting on one shin, then the other, drawing one knee up toward my chest, reclining...and all the while I keep playing with this lumbar roll I received at the beginning of the course, sliding it into the many spaces between me and my chair, so that I can feel supported. I can't stop moving! During the breaks, I get up and begin stretching everything I can into extension, the opposite of flexion. I stopped short of urdhva dhanurasana (full wheel), but tomorrow I'm determined to incorporate that one as well, no matter what the other students think : ) because I definitely do so want my juicy discs resting joyously in the center of my spine.

Now, as a yogi and a physical therapist, I happen to know a lot about posture. I know that when my skeleton is aligned, the least amount of effort is required of my muscles. To center my bones creates ease. I also believe that to be mindful of the details of my anatomy keeps me awake and present. So today, somewhere between slouching this way and that, I decided to interrupt my incessant three day wiggle to find neutral spine, with all of its natural curves, especially the curve of my lumbar region.

I slid forward in my seat, got my feet to the ground, rooted my sit bones into the chair, and climbed up from there like a tree reaching its leaves into the sun. There is some wakeful energy required for this, and I wonder why we tend to think of that as such a chore? Why do we resist it? Or why do we often not even give it a thought?

I sat with sitting. For one full hour, I sat with unsupported, anatomically aligned sitting. Every time I began to move towards a new posture, I caught myself, in the same fashion as I catch my thoughts during meditation and come back to my breath. Nonjudgementally, I noticed my exit from aligned sitting and realigned. Then I got real curious about why I wanted to exit in the first place. Was I uncomfortable? No. Not physically...

Movement is as natural as thinking, and so it is not my intention to disparage either. I happen to love my thinking brain, and I love my moving body. What I find fascinating, however, is the habits of thought and the habits of posture. Watching my thoughts teaches me more than thinking them! : ) And today, watching the habits of my posture taught me a great deal as well. I learned how really difficult it is for me to stay.

I practiced staying. I could almost here Pema Chodron whispering in my ear, quietly nudging me with her gentle voice to "stay". I noticed the quality of my mind when I stayed. Do you know what the anatomical experience reminded me of? Emptiness. That quality of the meditative experience that occurs when the story lines disappear and the mind settles. With my spine aligned, my muscles quiet, and all of my connective tissue balanced three-dimentionally, there was a sense of stillness, lightness, spaciousness...and emptiness. Do you know what I think is uncomfortable about emptiness for me? There is nothing to hold on to.

Do we move and fidget and lean and grasp with the various parts of our body, reaching out for support, crutches, ground...to avoid the emptiness of staying? When both the fidgeting of our muscles and our thoughts settle down, what is it that causes us to take off again. What is it about the present moment that causes us to run. Why is it so hard to place our trust in the immediacy of our experience. And in the example of posture, isn't it interesting to learn how hard it is to break from the comfort of habits, like a good old lazy slouch, even when we know that those habits are harmful to us, and that frankly they are not even comfortable, carrying with them the promise of some over-elongated back muscles just screaming to be re-shortened - even when we experience for ourselves that sitting up aligned is physically very comfortable.

I do realize that your experience of sitting up with "good posture" could be completely different. For one thing, you may discover, because of some muscle tightness here and there, that sitting upright is NOT physically comfortable for you. And so then there is the job of working with that and adjusting the muscle lengths of those areas. That's a good project! : ) Learning to align, learning to stay, learning to contact emptiness to see what comes up...these can all be wonderful projects, designed to wake us up, keep us present, and to keep us from escalating both suffering and pain. You could check this out for yourself - to see if this rings true for you.

In any event, please remember to EXTEND your spine today. One thousand flexions is a seriously off balanced situation. The discs of your spine will thank you.

My new peace flags from Civilian!

2007-11-19T22:24:00.000-05:00

http://civilianbasics.com/blog/

http://www.civilianbasics.com/

"May We All Remain Civilian"

: )

Looking into Mya-Lisa's shoulder troubles.

2007-11-17T00:24:00.001-05:00

Well of course this story would have to begin with an airborne flight from a mountain bike, now wouldn’t it? ; ) It seems very likely, Mya-Lisa, that your rainy day aches are secondary to good old fashioned post-traumatic arthritis, a thing that takes about ten years after an injury to sneak up on ya. With arthritis comes inflammation, and inflammation itself can have degenerative effects on a joint. This makes your shoulder a little more vulnerable to another issue known as impingement syndrome (I’ll come back to this).

Okay, so ten years ago we have your aerodynamic journey, and today we have your other great adventure in life – writing. I believe you have correctly surmised that this passionate endeavor of yours has become your overuse syndrome. Any action (or stress) that we repeat over and over again, even if it is only the quiet work of constant shoulder stabilization for the allowance of the perpetual fine motor task of typing, can easily fit the bill. The tendons that are overused become inflamed. They also thicken, taking up a lot of space, and in the shoulder, there just isn’t enough room for that.

Impingement syndrome occurs when there is inflammation between the top of the humerus (arm bone) and the acromion (tip of the shoulder blade), and that is where you will find the tendons of the rotator cuff muscles, as well as the bursa that protects them. What you described over the phone to me (when I went hunting for more details) was pain in exactly this area. The movements that you performed, which elicited pain, are controlled by the rotator cuff muscles (the most likely culprit of these right now being the supraspinatus). The impingement test I had you self-administer was somewhat painful (sorry), and the gomukasana pose with your right arm down was even more so (sorry again!). The rule for now on is to NEVER do anything that creates that pain.

The good news is that you are able to do warrior two, down dog, plank, and even wheel. If this IS an impingement syndrome, then it is in very early stages. The less good news is that there is some loss of motion in your right shoulder, and loss of motion generally leads to atrophy or weakening, and that's something we ought to address.

We need to rebuild strength in your rotator cuff muscles, Mya-Lisa. Yoga will be useful for that. Any pose where you find yourself elevating your arms (like in the warrior poses) is going to strengthen your supraspinatus. My recommendation at this time is to not go higher than 90 degrees in any pose until you have pain free movement at your computer. Typing can be your litmus test for recovery.

Though I am not in favor of too many sun salutations at this point (too much of anything is just not going to feel good I believe), what I do have in mind is an exploration of plank, chaturanga, and down dog with lots of gravity removed.

Plank, chaturanga, and down dog against the wall:

Progressing towards a table:

And on to a chair:

Hey - no making fun of my stick figures (or shoddy photography). Like your ponytail?

In all of these asanas, you must place your effort into maintaining external rotation of your shoulders by drawing the outside folds of your armpits (these are your lats) around toward the front of your body. This will strengthen your supraspinatus, infraspinatus and teres minor.

There is only one more rotator cuff muscle, the subscapularis, and there is no great way at this time to incorporate this muscle into your yoga. So, I suggest lying on your back with your palms facing up. Bend your right elbow 90 degrees by sliding your forearm along the ground. Now keep your humerus (upper arm bone) on the ground, and lift your forearm to vertical (internally rotating at your shoulder). If this is pain-free, you can introduce a can of corn or something to your hand to use as a weight and build up from there.

For some really nice mobility work, M-L, I'd like to introduce you to the work of Moshe Feldenkrais (a very big part of my education in physical therapy). This exercise is called the Shoulder Clock ATM Lesson.
http://www.feldenkrais.com/method/article/shoulder_clock_atm_lesson/
It is very quiet, mindful and juicy work. Let it be your indulgence.

I really recommend typing as little as possible right now (are you laughing at me?!!), because causing any pain at all can really worsen the situation (I will not be policing this activity by the way, should I happen to find you on the internet – wink, wink). When you are typing, please remember to “align your heart” with your shoulders drawn back and your shoulder blades gliding back and down, tucking your lower front ribs into your body.

A cold pack to that painful (subacromial) area should feel pretty good (5 to 10 minutes is enough).

And now for my disclaimer: As you know, my cyber assessment is far from the real thing. A visit to a physical therapist in your area would be ideal. (Or a quick look at Travelocity for cheap flights to NJ?)

Final advice: be mindful, be protective, breathe.

~~~~~~~~~~ positive healing vibes ~~~~~~~~~~

Lets talk physical issues.

2007-11-15T16:41:00.000-05:00

I happen to know that Mya-Lisa has a shoulder issue she would like to discuss, so I thought I'd start a thread.

My question is - what bothers you?
When does it bother you, how does it bother you, does anything alleviate this, does anything make it worse, and how long has this been going on? Details please.

Aligning your heart.

2007-11-14T09:15:00.000-05:00

On an inhale, lift your sternum (breastbone)and open your chest. This open-hearted posture is the one we take, when we are feeling very brave. It becomes part of our yoga, part of our meditation, part of our way of looking out at the world - or so we may aspire. This stance says I am making myself open to you. I am not shutting down. I am here to connect. Fill all of your chest - your entire rib cage - with breath and simply observe how it fills and empties this space.

Next step:

Begin to drop your chin towards your chest. At some point, the muscles at the back of your neck or somewhere down your back will stop you from getting any closer to your chest. Take a gentle hold of your lower ribs, where they come to meet the top of your abdomen, so that your hands are resting halfway on the ribs and halfway on the soft tissue of your abdomen. The lightest touch will register the most feedback. Now allow your chin to drop a little bit more - not by forcing more stretch from your neck/back muscles, but by allowing your lower ribs to sneak inward, just ever so slightly. You may notice some tone in your abdominal muscles switch on. It is subtle. And it's just good old, plain vanilla, postural tone - there to help us support our backs - to offer some core stability. Maintaining this slightly tucked position of the lower ribs, return your neck to an upright posture. Check in with your shoulders to see if they have moved forward and bring them back to center. Check in with your shoulder blades and draw them down the back if it feels necessary. And again, fill and empty all of this space with breath. Has anything changed?

Anatomically and perhaps emotionally aligned:

This fresh alignment creates ease and stability, once the surrounding muscles have adjusted their lengths to accommodate the new position (give them some time - they like their old habits). And it's a wake up call to our abdominal muscles, which I feel can be such an emotionally loaded area for many of us. We are either crunching our lower abs in an effort to look...how we think we should look, or we are practicing letting go, letting go, letting go of the ego that lives in our bellies. Both strategies have the potential to screw up our posture and cause dire consequences for our backs. But this simple act of opening the chest, while keeping some ribs for self, lets the abdominal muscles do their involuntary, postural job all on their own, removing our brains from them entirely. What a fricking relief!

What I like even more about this alignment is the metaphor it offers me for life. I open up to the world from a place that supports me. I take care of me to take care of you. For this I am grateful to my abdominal muscles!

No Class Tuesday, November 6th

2007-11-03T00:27:00.000-04:00

That's the bad news.

But the good news is that I will be taking a course at The Institute of Physical Art, advancing my skills in functional orthopedics and soft tissue mobilization. I can't wait to see how much of this I can take to the mat! One of the most exciting aspects of my work as a yoga teacher is incorporating my knowledge as a physical therapist - an ever evolving endeavor and source of inspiration for me.

Classes will continue to be on Tuesdays and Thursday from 1:00 to 2:30.

I would really appreciate any feedback anyone has on what the most convenient times are to come to class, so that I can set up the most optimal schedule. Please feel free to comment here or email me privately at thekarmagarage@yahoo.com.

Hope to see you soon!

"No Time Like the Present" by Mya-Lisa

2007-09-27T13:40:00.000-04:00

Staying present isn’t easy for me.

Sure, I’ve read all the books, I understand the philosophy and, make no mistake, I’m on board. I’ve embraced the concept with no less than Howard-Dean-after-the-Iowa-caucus level zeal. But I’m a daydreamer of such epic proportions that trying to keep me present would give a Zen master an ulcer.

I’ve always been a daydreamer, but it wasn’t until I was a teenager that I realized, through the efforts of one peculiarly persistent English teacher, what an intractable habit it is. This teacher was extraordinary. She was one of my favorites. She was also a little crazy.

Ms. Jenkins (I’ll call her Ms. Jenkins instead of her real name, although I doubt she would mind or take exception to being called crazy) had the ability to see right through me. Most teachers saw only a conscientious student who got her work done on time and did it well, but Ms. Jenkins saw a daydreamer who frequently checked out of her class, leaving behind a body set on autopilot to nod occasionally.

Oh, she saw all right. And she did not find it particularly endearing. Or so I’m guessing because whenever I drifted off into a daydream, she’d hurl a piece of chalk at me.

In her defense, I imagine she was awaiting that venerable day on which I’d actually be paying attention, nimbly catch the chalk in one hand, raise an eyebrow, and toss the chalk back to her along with a witty rejoinder. Life lesson learned. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Time and again the chalk would hit me - on the cheek, on the shoulder - or when her aim was slightly off, shatter on the desk in front of me or hit my nearest neighbor (sorry, Ted). Once, apparently not finding any chalk handy, she threw her shoe. Now THAT got my attention.

From time to time, I find myself wishing I still had Ms. Jenkins around to throw chalk at me to keep me present. I don’t want to miss my life like I missed her lessons. Some parts of my life really hurt….and some are frustrating and tiring….and many are beautiful and fulfilling beyond expression. And I want to experience them all.

*****

I have a son who’s now 6 and he has an unidentified neurological disorder. A few years ago my husband and I were told that his disorder was likely degenerative and fatal, and we lived with that likelihood, off and on, for more than two years. It’s impossible to describe how it affected me other than to say it shredded my insides until I was nothing more than dust.

But humans are hardwired to acclimate to even the most abhorrent of circumstances, and I learned to live under the guillotine of that impossible possibility. Don’t get me wrong: I didn’t embrace nor accept that I would lose my son. And I still dissolved into a sobbing, gasping, snotty mess from time to time. But I also eventually got back to living life: reading Magic Tree House books with my daughter, crashing toy monster trucks around the house with my son, watching the loveliness of the clouds moving across a blue sky, enjoying many of these moments more fully, wholly. Coming face–to-face with a future I couldn’t abide propelled me to stay in the present.

And I found freedom there. In the present, tomorrow’s laundry, next week’s meeting, and the mountain of work I need to get done before the end of the month only matter in practical terms – not emotional ones. In the present I don’t relive what I would have done, should have done, differently yesterday. There’s no knot in my stomach over what might be or what was….only absorption in this person, this scent, this activity or this scene in front of me.

In time, we found out through further testing that it was unlikely my son’s disorder was degenerative after all, and during the giddy, euphoric time that followed, I kept close to me the lessons I’d learned during darker days. But only for a while.

I’ve heard the precept that life is like a rotating wheel and one must try to move away from the wildly spinning outer edges to the still center, the present, where there’s no uncertain movement. Ahhh, being in the middle, in the stillness. But why is it so easy to get swept back out into the hubbub? And is it just a wild coincidence that centrifugal force applies not only to actually being in a physically rotating body but also applies equally aptly on the other side of the metaphor to life itself?

For me, it’s during times of difficulty that epiphanies and insights come skating in by the dozens to grab me by the shoulders and shake me until I just get it. But when the anxiety wanes and life becomes more ordinary, my epiphanies tend to get buried in the clutter of the day to day.

I find that I’ve begun letting myself get pulled into the vortex again. Increasingly, stream-of-consciousness thoughts make their autonomous march across my brain while attendant emotions swing merrily through my neurons. “I forgot to get cat food today, I’ve got to remember that on the way home ... if that cat peed on my new Tibetan rug, I swear I’ll skin it … when I dropped off the kids this morning, did I call the school secretary by the wrong name ... oh, no, I think I did … mortifying … I hope the kids’ school year goes well ... what if his seizures pick up again and it was like last year … how would we get through that again ….”

I need to feel the sting of a piece of flying chalk to remind me to get out of my head and back into the world. Fully.

I have no answers. I only know that when I’m in the present, whether that present is difficult, wonderful, or both, life itself fills the entire screen of my mind. The colors of this world are more vivid, the sounds more nuanced, the interactions more genuine.

I’ve started to meditate to practice this art of staying in the moment. I’m practicing taking my seat both physically and metaphorically. I’m practicing attending to my breath instead of all the monkeys in my head. I’m practicing because I don’t want to keep turning around to discover another of life’s beautiful moments passed by with only the merest of notice because I wasn’t really there.

I’m practicing being present because that’s where I want to be. That’s where my life is.

The Walk-In Closet

2007-09-15T00:04:00.000-04:00

I have a friend, who meditates inside a walk-in closet. God - I just love the image of her walking in there - rolling up her sleeves - getting down to the business of wrestling her demons and all manner of beasts that have taken hold of the microcosm that is her universe. It's perfect. Made for transformation. After all, isn't the walk-in closet where we do most of our changing?

Which reminds me of a yoga-teacher-friend of mine, who once opened class with a story about a mudroom. He grew up in Connecticut, where all his friends had mudrooms. But not him, and he was so envious. When he came home from a day of play, he was greeted at the front door by white, wall-to-wall carpeting. There was just no anxiety-free way of getting his body-all-covered-in-play inside a house-all-covered-in-white without making a mess. Yet that was the expectation put upon him. What a different story it was, when he visited those friends of his with magical mudrooms. Wow! You could just swing open their doors with dirty life all over you and safely cross the threshold. You could be your dirty little self and just hang up your crap, disarming in a self-paced manner. My friend suggested that we make of our yoga class a mudroom. Your yoga practice could be your personal muddy haven, where it's safe to both wear your world - your work, your play, your burdens, your defenses - and also slowly to remove those layers...till there's just you.

I don't have a walk-in closet or a mudroom. But I do have a garage (last metaphor - I swear). It's a work room. A place, where you can take everything apart, turn it upside down and inside out, and get to know it all in so much detail - with curiosity and appreciation for just what is. The getting to know you - your body and your mind - but not in an effort to fix either - lends itself to transformation. The paying attention all by itself - without a judgement that things need to change or to be better - is so liberating. The undressing of all those defenses with a new found comfort and acceptance for just who we are, even dressed in the grime of life, is freedom. Sometimes, we walk away from our meditation or our yoga practice with new clarity, but the true gift comes, when we come to feel grounded with the uncertainty of everything just as it is.

Pose of the Month: Urdhva Dhanurasana

2007-09-08T20:17:00.000-04:00

Oh wheel of my mind,
Be so steady, as my spine
Begins to recline

What is more stimulating than a good cup of coffee, a remedy for all things glum, and anatomically the absolute opposite of what you are doing right now?

Yes. Urdvha dhanurasana. AKA… the wheel pose.

Whether you are brand new to wheel or this is how you yawn yourself awake every morning, you can come to this pose with a beginner mind. This month, we’ll be exploring the wheel’s many anatomical aspects, turning the pose inside out, upside down, and right side round. Whether or not any of us actually find ourselves IN a wheel pose is beside the point actually. Because in yoga, the pose is never the goal - the journey is the goal. We’ll learn to lengthen our psoas muscles, make space for our sacrums, strengthen our triceps, and soften into a suppler spine. When we set our minds on these processes, we are practicing to be present and awake. We are learning to pay attention, thus creating a union of body and mind. We may even begin to feel that there is as much space inside us, as there is outside us, so inviting a sense of spirit to the mix.

Practice in your imagination now - then come to class and practice on the mat. (Remember: it is wise to begin any back bending practice with a warmed up body and an awareness of how to tuck your tail bone)....

Lying down on your back, begin to bend your knees, sliding your heels closer to your sit bones. Soften your feet into the ground. Lengthen your tailbone towards the backs of your knees, and continue this lengthening/tucking action as you raise your pelvis up toward the sky on an in-breath. To prevent your knees from splaying outward, roll your thighs inward toward each other. The action of the lengthening tail bone, together with this inward rotation of the thighs, helps to make room for your sacrum, thus protecting your low back.

Now, you are in bridge pose and already beginning to open up those psoas muscles that cross the fronts of your hips. You could stay there. You could even place a yoga block beneath your sacrum for support and have a seat right there. So much change is already occurring.

But to continue on to full wheel, place your hands alongside your ears, fingers facing the bottom of your mat. What matters here is that your elbows are pointing straight up, not splaying outward. By this time, it is very possible that you may have arrived at your edge. To attempt to rise up from here, if your elbows are splaying outward, could injure your shoulders ~ then I'd have to blog about rotator cuff injuries. ; ) Your practice becomes the work of opening your upper arm bones into more external rotation, as you draw those elbows closer together. Your practice also becomes the cultivation of patience.

If your elbows ARE facing straight up, then imagine that the outer folds of your arm pits are like walls, and so this is when you can urge those walls to fold inward toward your chest, helping to maintain the external rotation of your arms, and begin to press your hands into the ground, straightening your elbows and rising up on an in-breath. Check in on your wrists. Come back down if there is pain. You may be able to attempt coming up again, if you first place a rolled up towel beneath the heels of your hands, removing some of the “over” extension there.

And - Voile! You are in wheel. Be the wheel. : ) Continue to tune the wheel, finding the places you need to work less, the places you need to work more. Continue to tuck your tailbone. Notice if your ribs seem to be jutting out, and knit them back into your body. In fact, be LESS of a wheel by always looking to introduce elements of a forward bend into your backbend. You do this by drawing your hip points toward your rib cage and your rib cage toward your hip points.

See if you can stay up for maybe five luxurious breaths. Then as you descend from your wheel, continue to tuck your tailbone (basically, your brain should inhabit your tailbone for this entire process!) and to draw your elbows toward each other and your inner thighs toward each other. Continue to breathe. Always breathe. In fact, be more mindful of this practice, then anything else I have said thus far. The moment we begin to hold our breath is the moment we are no longer present and have set up the best possible scenario for injuring ourselves. Soooooooo...don’t do that. : )

And that was a very long trip into the dynamics of coming up into urdhva dhanurasana. But afterall, yoga is really all about the details.

Enjoy.

And please feel free to engage in wheel-talk, as well as all things round and beautiful, here at The Karma Garage.

How to Meditate...

2007-09-04T16:58:00.001-04:00

Or Instructions for Life.

Or Fifty-Two Ways to Lose It over a Bad Cup of Coffee.

(take your pick)

When you call up images of meditation, perhaps you call up visions of bliss. There is this figure, sitting in a Buddha-like posture, wearing serenity upon her face. And maybe you think - yeah, that’s it. I want to feel like that. Calgon – take me away!!! I need to order up some peace, please – extra tranquility on the side.

So.... You can begin with that. That desire for peace and for a sense of - settling down? Settling down amongst the unthinkable chaos that life somehow has become? How ‘bout just five minutes of quiet.

You begin....

Take a seat. Traditionally, that seat is on the ground, perhaps on a cushion, or on any support that allows you to assume an upright posture. However, you might very well be in your car at the parking lot outside Staples, because you bear a three page list of items without which your child just cannot show up to the first day of school. And guess what – you are not a monk sitting in a beautiful monastery with fancy back-supporting meditation accessories. You take your seat, wherever you can find it. Take your seat. Take it like it is yours. Take it like it is your God-given-right. Take it like a breath of oxygen. Take it .... because you really need it right now. Like this is the first time it ever occurred to you .... that you deserve this. A freaking seat. Some support.

You know what though? You may have made some time for yourself. You may have sat yourself right down in the middle of that period of time. Then you find yourself thinking - THIS is uncomfortable. : ) and Um - where’s the Calgon?

Lesson # 1: meditation is not bliss.

Right, you say - I’m off for a bubble bath then.

Come back. Because if you want to learn instructions for a life without exorbitant suffering, you need to take the hot seat. Come back. Because settling down - within the chaos of your claustrophobic mind - does not come with an infusion of lavender. Come back. Because by now you know the saying - nothing in life worthwhile comes easy.

Take your seat. With inescapable you. Who is worth ALL of this.

Take your seat AWAKE. Awake but relaxed. Paying attention but softening. Focus. Open. Ooopen. Ooooooopen.

Open your eyes, too. Half-way. Let them softly gaze upon a single point about three to six feet in front of you on the ground (or somewhere in the middle of your dashboard?). Let this gaze be soft enough to take in the periphery. Remain open to the room. To its sounds even. To its temperature. Remain open to it all. Open to the space outside of you. Open to the space inside of you.

My Lord, it is Grand Central Station in here! MY mind....is fricking Grand Central Station.

Okay. That is your experience. That is a very fine experience. Because, maybe, for the first time ever, you know that your mind is Grand Central Station. And the key to peace is not Calgon – it is in fact this new awareness. It’s the ability to watch your grand central thoughts without purchasing a ticket and taking a ride to Westport, Connecticut....or wherever Metro North happens to be heading at this hour. Or at least, if you DO find yourself in Westport, you can come all the way back in an instant - to the home that is you - on the wave of one breath.

You sit. You come to your breath. You notice your breath. Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out. .... “Well all I wanted was a cup of coffee – regular coffee – two sugars – whole milk – I HATE skim milk – she KNOWS that! – she doesn’t care – she doesn’t care about me – she doesn’t care about ANYthing – not even my kid’s birthday by the way – was it too difficult to pick up a small gift or something? – get a card? – I can’t believe my baby is nine years old now – time is moving so fast – I remember the day she was born – man, that obstetrician was a pain in the ass – all I wanted was a fricking epidural – next time I think I’ll go to the birthing center anyway – but how I HATE to give up coffee when I’m pregnant – it’s like going into a four day coma – and besides, there is nothing as good as a good cup of coffee – keep your Splenda – AND your skim milk - and God damn it, what the hell is so difficult about making a decent cup of coffee!” .... Breath in. Oh! I’m back. Whew. Where’d I go? Okay. Breathe in...breathe out...breathe in...breathe out. .... ”I sure could use a good cup of coffee right now.” : )

And that’s it. Right now, that’s your experience of meditation. You are bearing witness to the chaos of your mind. And maybe it’s like that. A cocktail of some things benign, some things triggered with anger, causes of frustration, worries about the future, perseveration on the past, wonder, anxiety...and yes, PANIC – for a good cup of coffee – an ordinary, bourgeois, modern day complaint. And all of these experiences count. Because when we learn to deal with these, we can maybe move on to the bigger stuff - like...cancer. We practice. We practice small. With cups of coffee. We learn to make space around our discomforts. First, we learn to see them. Then maybe, we learn to laugh at them. Then possibly, we try something different the next time we can’t get a good cup of coffee. Maybe, we experience a curiosity for - dare I say - 1% milk? - or – ehem – soy milk? Okay, slow down there, sailor.

Right, so these are the instructions for meditation in a nut shell:
1. Take your seat with a soft gaze on the ground before you.
2. Become aware of your breath, and stay with your observation of that, but be soft enough to keep open to the feelings of space both inside and outside of you.
3. When you find yourself lost in thought and become aware of this, be thankful to find yourself present again. Let go of those thoughts, and come back to the home that is you. Simply come back to your breath - the one thing that is always present.

But here is the main thing:

Be gentle with you.

Truly, there is only one honest window into your mind....and it is through the window of compassion.

Be gentle with you.

Hardening comes easy and brings with it so much pain. Soften.

Be gentle with you.

If you come to your meditation practice - or to your life - or to the coffee shop - with a judgement of how it is all supposed to go - then that is a self-injurious thing.

Be gentle with you.