Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Baby Love
Babies are popping everywhere!
I don't just mean the documentary movie following four babies around the world that just opened in cinemas this weekend (timed for Mother's Day, of course). I mean, I'm really seeing babies everywhere.
A number of friends have just had their first, second, third, and fourth (yes, fourth!) child. I haven't seen some of these friends for a couple of years. Thanks to Facebook and email, I was able to keep up with their "I've popped...again" news, and coo publicly at their newborns' photos.
Then, there was the baby entourage a couple of weeks ago outside Ariel's ballet class. It was one of those gorgeous summer-like days in early spring, and all the mums with babies somehow made a collective decision that it was a great day to roll the stroller out to play. There were at least five or six gurgling, raspberry-blowing, and napping little beings being bounced and cradled to my delight.
All these babies are making me miss my babies. My babies, as in my kids when they were babies, and my yogi babies. I used to teach a baby yoga class, and that was, hands down, my favorite class ever. Imagine having five to ten toothless cherubs to yoga play with every week! Babies are the most natural yogis, by the way. Tell me you haven't seen a baby sit in perfect butterfly or push up into downdog before taking the first stumbling steps.
I love babies. Everybody loves babies because they are soooo cute, sooo fun and smell so good (except with a diaper full of poop). But I love more than just these qualities about babies.
For a start, babies always say it like they mean. I never have to second guess what a baby is saying to me, or wonder if he is playing mind games with me. If she is hungry, she says: "Waaaa!" If she is sleepy, she says: "Waaaa!" If he needs a diaper change, he says, "Waaa!" Babies are the most honest human beings in the world. They are the only people on earth who can claim to never have lied.
Babies are also not afraid to show their true feelings. Anyone who has ever tried to take a baby from his mummy's arms would know this. He'll let you know for sure if he likes you or not straightaway (no need to wait a week for the phone call that never comes).
If you smile at a baby, she will always smile back at you...seriously. The only exceptions are when she is colicky, or her diet is being changed and she doesn't like it. If you look into a baby's eyes with admiration for her beauty, she will always respond, instead of giving you the upturned nose or cold shoulder.
Babies also don't care if you're wearing mismatched outfits, or having a bad hair day. They don't even wear makeup...or much clothes at all! I mean, a baby looks best in diapers and nothing else, right? So it makes sense that the baby is not going to have much expectations of your fashion sense (or lack thereof).
Babies don't care what color you are, or whether you believe in God or not. Babies don't care how much money you make, or which set of wheels you drive, as long as you get your act together when you're steering theirs. Ever seen a stroller fight between a baby and his parent/caregiver?
"Waaaaa!" (Push, darn it! Who said you could stop?) "OK, sweetie, here's your rattle." "Waaaaaaaa!" (Forget it, moron. Let me out now!) "Oh wait, sweetie, don't kick out of those straps."
"Waaaaaaaaaa!" (You just don't get it, do you? Right, I'm going to take a dump. That'll show you.)
While we're on the subject of baby's most effective way of registering their protest and/or dissatisfaction, my favorite memory of Amon as a baby was when he took the mother-of-all-dumps. He was six months old, and I was enjoying a chill-out Sunday afternoon with a strawberry mint smoothie in a laidback suburb cafe. The best thing about about a breastfeeding baby was that he was extremely portable, and I never have to worry about his food. So there I was, in this nice cafe, flipping through the pages of Elle with one hand, and cradle-holding the voracious nursling with the other. And then he did it. It came through his diaper, baby suit, and all over my very chic white pedal pushers (yes, serves me right for wearing fashionista white instead of practical mummy black). If you didn't already know, breastfed babies poo LIQUID (usually sticky and yellowish). That was the end of my afternoon sojourn in the cafe.
Thankfully, with Ariel, I never had the same inconvenient accident, thanks in part to her Indonesian nanny who potty-trained her to do her major transactions over a toilet bowl from six months. I had plenty of beautiful, bonding moments and memories with her, given the advantages of hindsight, experience, and yes, another pair of helping hands. She was a regular at my baby yoga classes of course, until one day, when she decided she wasn't going to stomach sharing her mummy with all these other babies. She had just started to take her first steps. I can still remember her pushing herself up from her mat and trotting over to where I was lifting one of her 'classmates' up into bridge pose. Halfway through, she gave up, got down on all fours and super sonic speed crawled to me. She let out her loudest and angriest cry. "That's MY mummy you got patting your bum, buster!" Buster was, of course, terrified. Ever notice how babies seem to have a collective emotional consciousness, such that when one is upset, everyone else begin to empathize?
So, I love babies..for all the above reasons and more. Here's to all the beautiful babies in the world, and the mummies and daddies committed to helping them grow up to make more beautiful babies.
Maybe it's time to start another baby yoga class.
I don't just mean the documentary movie following four babies around the world that just opened in cinemas this weekend (timed for Mother's Day, of course). I mean, I'm really seeing babies everywhere.
A number of friends have just had their first, second, third, and fourth (yes, fourth!) child. I haven't seen some of these friends for a couple of years. Thanks to Facebook and email, I was able to keep up with their "I've popped...again" news, and coo publicly at their newborns' photos.
Then, there was the baby entourage a couple of weeks ago outside Ariel's ballet class. It was one of those gorgeous summer-like days in early spring, and all the mums with babies somehow made a collective decision that it was a great day to roll the stroller out to play. There were at least five or six gurgling, raspberry-blowing, and napping little beings being bounced and cradled to my delight.
All these babies are making me miss my babies. My babies, as in my kids when they were babies, and my yogi babies. I used to teach a baby yoga class, and that was, hands down, my favorite class ever. Imagine having five to ten toothless cherubs to yoga play with every week! Babies are the most natural yogis, by the way. Tell me you haven't seen a baby sit in perfect butterfly or push up into downdog before taking the first stumbling steps.
I love babies. Everybody loves babies because they are soooo cute, sooo fun and smell so good (except with a diaper full of poop). But I love more than just these qualities about babies.
For a start, babies always say it like they mean. I never have to second guess what a baby is saying to me, or wonder if he is playing mind games with me. If she is hungry, she says: "Waaaa!" If she is sleepy, she says: "Waaaa!" If he needs a diaper change, he says, "Waaa!" Babies are the most honest human beings in the world. They are the only people on earth who can claim to never have lied.
Babies are also not afraid to show their true feelings. Anyone who has ever tried to take a baby from his mummy's arms would know this. He'll let you know for sure if he likes you or not straightaway (no need to wait a week for the phone call that never comes).
If you smile at a baby, she will always smile back at you...seriously. The only exceptions are when she is colicky, or her diet is being changed and she doesn't like it. If you look into a baby's eyes with admiration for her beauty, she will always respond, instead of giving you the upturned nose or cold shoulder.
Babies also don't care if you're wearing mismatched outfits, or having a bad hair day. They don't even wear makeup...or much clothes at all! I mean, a baby looks best in diapers and nothing else, right? So it makes sense that the baby is not going to have much expectations of your fashion sense (or lack thereof).
Babies don't care what color you are, or whether you believe in God or not. Babies don't care how much money you make, or which set of wheels you drive, as long as you get your act together when you're steering theirs. Ever seen a stroller fight between a baby and his parent/caregiver?
"Waaaaa!" (Push, darn it! Who said you could stop?) "OK, sweetie, here's your rattle." "Waaaaaaaa!" (Forget it, moron. Let me out now!) "Oh wait, sweetie, don't kick out of those straps."
"Waaaaaaaaaa!" (You just don't get it, do you? Right, I'm going to take a dump. That'll show you.)
So, I love babies..for all the above reasons and more. Here's to all the beautiful babies in the world, and the mummies and daddies committed to helping them grow up to make more beautiful babies.
Maybe it's time to start another baby yoga class.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Je suis comme je suis
I don't care if there was roll, and perhaps the wind direction could have been in my favor. A 200-yard drive is a 200-yard drive. And it was a pretty awesome drive...especially for me. After all, the longest and hardest LPGA drivers go the distance at around 270 yards (Michelle Wie and Lorena Ochoa).
More importantly, it wasn't just about the distance. When you make a good hit, in that moment when the club connects perfectly with the ball, it's like a magical spin of physics and chemistry coming together. You just know it. Then, as you complete the swing and look up towards the ball in flight and watch it land, the feeling is complete...like great literature. It is a feeling like no other.
So yeah, I'm going to celebrate that rare and immensely uplifting drive today. It was especially satisfying since I decided on a whim to play hooky from a series of assignments and deadline and hit the greens to soak up some sun (cue music).
Many of my friends do not understand my passion for golf.
Apart from the fact that I'm not great at the game (no handicap, or severely handicapped, depending on whether you're a golfer or non-golfer asking), most people can't understand how I can be as crazy about chasing a little white ball around the grass as I am about flowing with the breath on my yoga mat.
But the two really go hand-in-hand for me. The truth is, there are many things I love doing which make me feel truly happy from deep inside -- dancing, taking pictures, running, shooting hoops and sitting on a swing. Yoga and golf, though, are the two that really transformed my life, and taught me many of the life lessons that are intrinsic to my guiding principle of always going back to the basics.
And that was how I made that drive today. I didn't have much time except for a quick round on the 9-hole executive. So there was absolutely no pressure. I was also having fun because I got to go out on my own, unlike on a regular course where single players usually had to join a group of two or three. I usually play from the white tee (the men's tee-off) on the executive so that the par 3s would feel more like they would be on a regular course. There were only two longer holes, and this was one of the two. That was the only hole I would usually tee-off from red (the women's tee-off) just because the line was kinda weird from white, and there was very little fairway.
But for some strange reason, as I walked up to the tee box today, I just decided on a whim to take it from white. I couldn't explain why, but it just felt like the right thing to do. I wasn't worried about my ball landing in the rough instead of the fairway. I just walked up, teed up and took a nice, relaxed swing.
Then I saw the ball going...and going...and going. Holy cow, that looked pretty long, and right in the middle, down the straight and narrow too. I walked the few paces to the nearest marker on the ground and did a mental calculation of the distance. I had to do it twice, just to be sure.
That was the eighth hole. A little while later, when I was loading my bag into the car and changing out of my shoes, the lesson sunk in...like one of those magical putts that does a little dance around the rim of the cup before plonking itself right in.
I believe that golf reflects life, and the lessons that are learned in golf can be applied to life...and vice versa. I play my best game when I don't feel the need to impress my worst critic -- myself. I have only been playing on my own in the last two years, and there wasn't a need to impress anyone else. I readily admit that I suck at the game to anyone, and I usually get paired with nice, sweet, elderly players who have been at this for 20 to 60 years. I have always been, and continue to be, my own worst enemy...in golf, and in life. The more I tried to impress myself, the worse I played. The more I told myself I should be getting another 20 yards out of that club, the more stupid, embarrassing mistakes I would make. On the other hand, if I was relaxed, enjoying the moment, and had no expectations on the shots I should be making, I usually surprised myself...like I did today.
So, my biggest lesson in life (and golf) is really to let myself be. I'm sure, at some point, I will forget this again, and have to re-learn the lesson. That's just the way it is with the game (and life). And there are many more lessons I've learned, and will learn. For now, I will hold that *feeling* of the great shot, and this lesson, close to heart.
Je suis comme je suis.
More importantly, it wasn't just about the distance. When you make a good hit, in that moment when the club connects perfectly with the ball, it's like a magical spin of physics and chemistry coming together. You just know it. Then, as you complete the swing and look up towards the ball in flight and watch it land, the feeling is complete...like great literature. It is a feeling like no other.
So yeah, I'm going to celebrate that rare and immensely uplifting drive today. It was especially satisfying since I decided on a whim to play hooky from a series of assignments and deadline and hit the greens to soak up some sun (cue music).
Many of my friends do not understand my passion for golf.
Apart from the fact that I'm not great at the game (no handicap, or severely handicapped, depending on whether you're a golfer or non-golfer asking), most people can't understand how I can be as crazy about chasing a little white ball around the grass as I am about flowing with the breath on my yoga mat.
But the two really go hand-in-hand for me. The truth is, there are many things I love doing which make me feel truly happy from deep inside -- dancing, taking pictures, running, shooting hoops and sitting on a swing. Yoga and golf, though, are the two that really transformed my life, and taught me many of the life lessons that are intrinsic to my guiding principle of always going back to the basics.
And that was how I made that drive today. I didn't have much time except for a quick round on the 9-hole executive. So there was absolutely no pressure. I was also having fun because I got to go out on my own, unlike on a regular course where single players usually had to join a group of two or three. I usually play from the white tee (the men's tee-off) on the executive so that the par 3s would feel more like they would be on a regular course. There were only two longer holes, and this was one of the two. That was the only hole I would usually tee-off from red (the women's tee-off) just because the line was kinda weird from white, and there was very little fairway.
But for some strange reason, as I walked up to the tee box today, I just decided on a whim to take it from white. I couldn't explain why, but it just felt like the right thing to do. I wasn't worried about my ball landing in the rough instead of the fairway. I just walked up, teed up and took a nice, relaxed swing.
Then I saw the ball going...and going...and going. Holy cow, that looked pretty long, and right in the middle, down the straight and narrow too. I walked the few paces to the nearest marker on the ground and did a mental calculation of the distance. I had to do it twice, just to be sure.
That was the eighth hole. A little while later, when I was loading my bag into the car and changing out of my shoes, the lesson sunk in...like one of those magical putts that does a little dance around the rim of the cup before plonking itself right in.
I believe that golf reflects life, and the lessons that are learned in golf can be applied to life...and vice versa. I play my best game when I don't feel the need to impress my worst critic -- myself. I have only been playing on my own in the last two years, and there wasn't a need to impress anyone else. I readily admit that I suck at the game to anyone, and I usually get paired with nice, sweet, elderly players who have been at this for 20 to 60 years. I have always been, and continue to be, my own worst enemy...in golf, and in life. The more I tried to impress myself, the worse I played. The more I told myself I should be getting another 20 yards out of that club, the more stupid, embarrassing mistakes I would make. On the other hand, if I was relaxed, enjoying the moment, and had no expectations on the shots I should be making, I usually surprised myself...like I did today.
So, my biggest lesson in life (and golf) is really to let myself be. I'm sure, at some point, I will forget this again, and have to re-learn the lesson. That's just the way it is with the game (and life). And there are many more lessons I've learned, and will learn. For now, I will hold that *feeling* of the great shot, and this lesson, close to heart.
Je suis comme je suis.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Open Hearts: If It's Meant To Be, Don't Let It Walk Right Out Of Your Life
I met someone really important tonight. But I let this person walk right out of my life without doing anything about it.
It was meant to be. For once, I was actually early for yoga practice. I saw her trying to figure out the keypad for the door to the building -- not the easiest thing since there are two keypads and despite specific instructions on the yoga center's website, almost every intelligent being (me included) gets it wrong the first time.
So I showed her the way to do it, having figured out that she was a first timer. We chatted a little as we walked down the stairs to the basement -- nothing serious, just the usual 'is it this way', 'what time does it start' type of conversation. What was interesting though was that I had this feeling straightaway that I had known this person for a long, long time.
I went ahead and did my usual things. I had been looking forward to sitting for a few minutes in the changing room and reading, while waiting for the previous session of mysore practitioners to be done. The air was permeated with sweat, but that didn't bother me as much as it usually does on Sunday mornings (for some strange reason). It was then that I noticed she had gone to the men's changing area by mistake. It was confusing. The signs were small and not immediately obvious. But that is precisely why I love practicing here. It is the most cosy, unpretentious and 'real' yoga studio I have ever stepped into. It has been around in this part of town for years and years, run and frequented by pretty much the same core group of yogis.
I called out to her.
"Excuse me, that's the guys' changing area. We're way back down the corridor."
She was a little lost and rather grateful. I explained to her how the 'system' worked. If you're a regular and have a card, just go mark it off. If you pay per class, there is a little pouch on the ledge to put the money in. I could still remember the first time I came here, six years ago (the first time I was living in D.C.), a newbie to Ashtanga and very early on in my teacher training. Every single yoga studio I had ever been to (and had been to since then) had a receptionist at the front the minute I walked through the door, and a system of cards, credit cards and cash. They were businesses, fair enough. Even yoga teachers have to make a living (as I can testify to as well). But this place blew me away, because it was so much more than a studio. It was a space where everyone -- the teachers and the students -- truly lived their yoga. It was also here that I first fell in love with Ashtanga (until my second pregnancy three months later had me throwing up all over the place and forced me to cut the jumpbacks and vinyasas and just go yin for a while).
I showed her to the women's changing room. We chatted a little. She was from Iowa and here on a business trip. She wanted to do some yoga and found this place on the internet. It was convenient, right next to the metro, along the same line from her hotel. Again, I had this feeling that I had known her before. See, I would do exactly the same thing if I had time off on a working trip -- look for a yoga studio to do a class at. But it was more than that common trait that connected us, I was sure.
She went to wait in the front and I sat down for my ten minutes of reading. Inside, she pulled her mat next to me and said, "Well, I guess I'll come next to you, since you were helping me and showing me the way." I smiled at her. But there was no chance for a reply, because David was on a roll and had already said "Come to standing at the front of your mats, samasthithi...."
So we practiced side by side. The best part about being in a space like this was that everyone who comes here comes to practice. So there isn't the self-conscious tension of people sneaking glances at one another's postures that is common in places where yoga is a fad and lifestyle, rather than a way of learning and being. (Having said that, we all start somewhere, and I've been in those places myself early on in my yoga journey. So there is no right or wrong...just little discoveries every step of the way.)
It was an awesome practice. The breath was great; the flow was great. In the changing room afterward, we chatted a little again...about the eternal dilemma of whether to eat or not after practice. Usually, I feel like I can't. But if I don't, I would be starving by midnight and end up eating more than I should. There are a few decent restaurants near her Metro stop, I told her. She asked me about the Japanese restaurant next door. As we were walking out, she asked: "Are you going to the Metro too?" No, I said. I was going to stop and ask David a question and then go to Whole Foods next door. She hesitated a moment and then walked on after I bid her a safe trip home. It was then that I realized that maybe she had that same feeling of having known me from somewhere before, too.
A few minutes later, as I was walking out of the building, it hit me. Why on earth did I not ask her to have dinner? Or, just have a juice or vitamin water at Whole Foods next door?! Instead of making a beeline for Whole Foods, I walked right to the Metro entrance, hoping that I could catch her and if I did, I would ask her. I didn't see her. I could have gone down the escalator and I probably would have caught up with her. But somehow, I didn't. I turned and walked back towards Whole Foods, full of regret.
How often does one meet a person whose soul one's own recognizes from the start? I just had an awesome practice but despite the backbends, why wasn't my heart fully open? What was it that blocked me from exploring this potential friendship? Perhaps it was because I had this to-do list in my mind: ask David question about workshop, MUST do groceries, kids' milk running out...etc. Sure, those were important things I had to do. But she was more important. She was a person, and the experience and connection that I would have gotten out of just spending an hour perhaps with this stranger who wasn't and needn't have been a stranger was infinitely more important than groceries. Perhaps it was because I was sweaty and stinky, and I usually try to avoid seeing people I know after yoga when I'm sweaty and stinky. But then, she was sweaty and stinky too and it really didn't matter. In fact, come to think of it, right after yoga, when I'm open and energized and flowing, would be the best time to see people I know and care about! DOH!
So, I let this person walk right out of my life. It was meant to be that I walked into her fumbling with the keypad to the building. But at a certain point, we also control how things that are meant to be turn out. One of the sweetest and most down-to-earth actors I have ever interviewed, Eric Bana, said this to me last year at the Waldorf Astoria in New York: "The way people meet and come together...that's fate and destiny. But beyond that, what we do with it, whether we exchange emails, phone numbers, etc., that's within our control." How true.
I believe that all things happen for a reason. Someone once disagreed with me strongly, and said that things don't happen for a reason, but people give it a reason, because they need to. That, too, is true, and I believe it's pretty much one and the same. This person also added a caveat which I agree with totally. He pointed out that some people use "all things happen for a reason" as an excuse to not take responsibility for their actions. That is not cool, I completely agree. So I take full responsibility for letting my potential friend walk away.
So, the next time my soul recognizes another, I hope my heart will be open enough for me to invite her (or him) in. I hope the same goes for all of you as well. There are few things that truly matter at the end of the day, and the connection with another human being is one of them.
Namaste. (The light in me sees the light in you.)
It was meant to be. For once, I was actually early for yoga practice. I saw her trying to figure out the keypad for the door to the building -- not the easiest thing since there are two keypads and despite specific instructions on the yoga center's website, almost every intelligent being (me included) gets it wrong the first time.
So I showed her the way to do it, having figured out that she was a first timer. We chatted a little as we walked down the stairs to the basement -- nothing serious, just the usual 'is it this way', 'what time does it start' type of conversation. What was interesting though was that I had this feeling straightaway that I had known this person for a long, long time.
I went ahead and did my usual things. I had been looking forward to sitting for a few minutes in the changing room and reading, while waiting for the previous session of mysore practitioners to be done. The air was permeated with sweat, but that didn't bother me as much as it usually does on Sunday mornings (for some strange reason). It was then that I noticed she had gone to the men's changing area by mistake. It was confusing. The signs were small and not immediately obvious. But that is precisely why I love practicing here. It is the most cosy, unpretentious and 'real' yoga studio I have ever stepped into. It has been around in this part of town for years and years, run and frequented by pretty much the same core group of yogis.
I called out to her.
"Excuse me, that's the guys' changing area. We're way back down the corridor."
She was a little lost and rather grateful. I explained to her how the 'system' worked. If you're a regular and have a card, just go mark it off. If you pay per class, there is a little pouch on the ledge to put the money in. I could still remember the first time I came here, six years ago (the first time I was living in D.C.), a newbie to Ashtanga and very early on in my teacher training. Every single yoga studio I had ever been to (and had been to since then) had a receptionist at the front the minute I walked through the door, and a system of cards, credit cards and cash. They were businesses, fair enough. Even yoga teachers have to make a living (as I can testify to as well). But this place blew me away, because it was so much more than a studio. It was a space where everyone -- the teachers and the students -- truly lived their yoga. It was also here that I first fell in love with Ashtanga (until my second pregnancy three months later had me throwing up all over the place and forced me to cut the jumpbacks and vinyasas and just go yin for a while).
I showed her to the women's changing room. We chatted a little. She was from Iowa and here on a business trip. She wanted to do some yoga and found this place on the internet. It was convenient, right next to the metro, along the same line from her hotel. Again, I had this feeling that I had known her before. See, I would do exactly the same thing if I had time off on a working trip -- look for a yoga studio to do a class at. But it was more than that common trait that connected us, I was sure.
She went to wait in the front and I sat down for my ten minutes of reading. Inside, she pulled her mat next to me and said, "Well, I guess I'll come next to you, since you were helping me and showing me the way." I smiled at her. But there was no chance for a reply, because David was on a roll and had already said "Come to standing at the front of your mats, samasthithi...."
So we practiced side by side. The best part about being in a space like this was that everyone who comes here comes to practice. So there isn't the self-conscious tension of people sneaking glances at one another's postures that is common in places where yoga is a fad and lifestyle, rather than a way of learning and being. (Having said that, we all start somewhere, and I've been in those places myself early on in my yoga journey. So there is no right or wrong...just little discoveries every step of the way.)
It was an awesome practice. The breath was great; the flow was great. In the changing room afterward, we chatted a little again...about the eternal dilemma of whether to eat or not after practice. Usually, I feel like I can't. But if I don't, I would be starving by midnight and end up eating more than I should. There are a few decent restaurants near her Metro stop, I told her. She asked me about the Japanese restaurant next door. As we were walking out, she asked: "Are you going to the Metro too?" No, I said. I was going to stop and ask David a question and then go to Whole Foods next door. She hesitated a moment and then walked on after I bid her a safe trip home. It was then that I realized that maybe she had that same feeling of having known me from somewhere before, too.
A few minutes later, as I was walking out of the building, it hit me. Why on earth did I not ask her to have dinner? Or, just have a juice or vitamin water at Whole Foods next door?! Instead of making a beeline for Whole Foods, I walked right to the Metro entrance, hoping that I could catch her and if I did, I would ask her. I didn't see her. I could have gone down the escalator and I probably would have caught up with her. But somehow, I didn't. I turned and walked back towards Whole Foods, full of regret.
How often does one meet a person whose soul one's own recognizes from the start? I just had an awesome practice but despite the backbends, why wasn't my heart fully open? What was it that blocked me from exploring this potential friendship? Perhaps it was because I had this to-do list in my mind: ask David question about workshop, MUST do groceries, kids' milk running out...etc. Sure, those were important things I had to do. But she was more important. She was a person, and the experience and connection that I would have gotten out of just spending an hour perhaps with this stranger who wasn't and needn't have been a stranger was infinitely more important than groceries. Perhaps it was because I was sweaty and stinky, and I usually try to avoid seeing people I know after yoga when I'm sweaty and stinky. But then, she was sweaty and stinky too and it really didn't matter. In fact, come to think of it, right after yoga, when I'm open and energized and flowing, would be the best time to see people I know and care about! DOH!
So, I let this person walk right out of my life. It was meant to be that I walked into her fumbling with the keypad to the building. But at a certain point, we also control how things that are meant to be turn out. One of the sweetest and most down-to-earth actors I have ever interviewed, Eric Bana, said this to me last year at the Waldorf Astoria in New York: "The way people meet and come together...that's fate and destiny. But beyond that, what we do with it, whether we exchange emails, phone numbers, etc., that's within our control." How true.
I believe that all things happen for a reason. Someone once disagreed with me strongly, and said that things don't happen for a reason, but people give it a reason, because they need to. That, too, is true, and I believe it's pretty much one and the same. This person also added a caveat which I agree with totally. He pointed out that some people use "all things happen for a reason" as an excuse to not take responsibility for their actions. That is not cool, I completely agree. So I take full responsibility for letting my potential friend walk away.
So, the next time my soul recognizes another, I hope my heart will be open enough for me to invite her (or him) in. I hope the same goes for all of you as well. There are few things that truly matter at the end of the day, and the connection with another human being is one of them.
Namaste. (The light in me sees the light in you.)
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
The Answer Is....
I love my current Facebook profile photo of me and Ariel on the beach. Many of my friends do too.
"I love this picture. But why did you change that other picture of you in the swimsuit?" Because I got too many unsolicited and sometimes unsavory messages from strangers.
These days, it seems you can't be online without getting messages from strangers. It used to be just spam mail, but now you get them on Twitter, Skype, and just about anywhere online. There are a lot of people looking for 'love' online (or friendship, or whatever they choose to call what they're looking for).
I used to dismiss many of these people as 'nuts' or 'bored, with nothing better to do.' But I've come to realize that these people are just looking for the same thing that everyone else is: the simple, basic answers to the simple basic questions in life.
What makes me happy? What is happy? What is love? Is this person 'the one'? (And several others, but since I'm dealing with love in this post, I'll stay away from God for now. Although, I believe love and spirituality can be found in each other.)
We ask those questions all our lives. Sometimes we think we've found the answers. But then something happens and we start to doubt what we think we've found. Sometimes, the answers are there, but we may not know we've found them.
I think one of my friends may have found the answer, or at least, a large part of it.
I was hanging out with a group of girls from grad school a couple of weeks ago. A handful of them are graduating next month (congrats!) and we were all in good spirits. So when girls get together in the company of spirits, we talk about guys...what else? (Yes, guys, we can be like you too.)
One of the girls' boyfriend was in town to see her over the weekend. They live and work in different places and he hops on a train to come see her on the weekends. It was the first time I met him.
"You guys look so cute together!" I said to her. And they do!
Her answer to my silly, girlie gushing was so simple and profound that it stuck with me, and I've been thinking about it since. That is saying a lot. How often do you get simple and profound wisdom out of Happy Hour chatter?
"He's such a wonderful person. He makes me a much better person. I feel so calm when I'm with him, and he just inspires me to want to be a better person."
I think she just nailed it...the answer to that eternal question we girls like to ask. (Is he the one? How do you know when you've met the one? Etc.)
Let me qualify that though. I think the jury is still out on whether there is such a thing as 'the one' person or the soul mate. Some people believe in it, and have found their twin soul. Some people have experienced more than one 'the one' in their lives. Some have loved and lost. Some feel like they will never be found.
But the answer my friend found relates more to the questions about relationships that people ask themselves at a more mature stage of their lives, than in their adolescent years. It's no longer just enough to ask: "Am I crazy about him/her?" But: "Do I see myself growing old with him/her?" "What is it going to be like with this person when we've been together a long time?" "Can I even wake up every day with this person?"
Regardless of what your situation is, and what you believe, I think there's wisdom to be gleaned from my friend's response. What she was talking about is love...and the power of love. This goes beyond the usual head over heels, stars in the sky, butterflies in the gut feelings we've been taught to associate with romantic love. It's about two people, and the power their feelings for each other can create.
If a person can inspire another so much, it is a powerful force indeed! And the same can be said of all forms of love: that between a parent and a child (my kids make me want to be a better person every day), between friends, between siblings, relatives, and between a mentor and a younger person (a teacher and a student, a coach and an athlete, etc.).
And then there is a form of love that we usually overlook. Self love.
As a yogi, I believe that the center of love resides in the anahata (the heart chakra). It's easy to find it. It's in your chest, approximately four fingers below your clavicle. Try touching it. Close your eyes and visualize a warm green light all around you emanate from that center. The fourth chakra is usually represented as a lotus flower, with 12 petals. This is where you feel compassion, unconditional love and emotions.
The belief that love comes from deep within each of us, and that there is a spirituality (be it God or otherwise) within us that inspires this love is common across most religions in the world. It may be taught and represented differently, but the premise is the same.
Going back to the heart chakra. If you're still touching that spot, physiologically, this is also where the thymus is. The thymus is part of the immune system and produces T-cells, a group of white blood cells.
So now we know why they say love has healing powers, right?
This was written for friends, especially E, who is still looking for answers and S, who just had her fourth baby, and who said to me: "Spring is the season. Love is in the air."
"Ultimately, the reason why love and compassion bring us the greatest happiness is simply that our nature cherishes them above all else. " HH The Dalai Lama.
"I love this picture. But why did you change that other picture of you in the swimsuit?" Because I got too many unsolicited and sometimes unsavory messages from strangers.
These days, it seems you can't be online without getting messages from strangers. It used to be just spam mail, but now you get them on Twitter, Skype, and just about anywhere online. There are a lot of people looking for 'love' online (or friendship, or whatever they choose to call what they're looking for).
I used to dismiss many of these people as 'nuts' or 'bored, with nothing better to do.' But I've come to realize that these people are just looking for the same thing that everyone else is: the simple, basic answers to the simple basic questions in life.
What makes me happy? What is happy? What is love? Is this person 'the one'? (And several others, but since I'm dealing with love in this post, I'll stay away from God for now. Although, I believe love and spirituality can be found in each other.)
We ask those questions all our lives. Sometimes we think we've found the answers. But then something happens and we start to doubt what we think we've found. Sometimes, the answers are there, but we may not know we've found them.
I think one of my friends may have found the answer, or at least, a large part of it.
I was hanging out with a group of girls from grad school a couple of weeks ago. A handful of them are graduating next month (congrats!) and we were all in good spirits. So when girls get together in the company of spirits, we talk about guys...what else? (Yes, guys, we can be like you too.)
One of the girls' boyfriend was in town to see her over the weekend. They live and work in different places and he hops on a train to come see her on the weekends. It was the first time I met him.
"You guys look so cute together!" I said to her. And they do!
Her answer to my silly, girlie gushing was so simple and profound that it stuck with me, and I've been thinking about it since. That is saying a lot. How often do you get simple and profound wisdom out of Happy Hour chatter?
"He's such a wonderful person. He makes me a much better person. I feel so calm when I'm with him, and he just inspires me to want to be a better person."
I think she just nailed it...the answer to that eternal question we girls like to ask. (Is he the one? How do you know when you've met the one? Etc.)
Let me qualify that though. I think the jury is still out on whether there is such a thing as 'the one' person or the soul mate. Some people believe in it, and have found their twin soul. Some people have experienced more than one 'the one' in their lives. Some have loved and lost. Some feel like they will never be found.
But the answer my friend found relates more to the questions about relationships that people ask themselves at a more mature stage of their lives, than in their adolescent years. It's no longer just enough to ask: "Am I crazy about him/her?" But: "Do I see myself growing old with him/her?" "What is it going to be like with this person when we've been together a long time?" "Can I even wake up every day with this person?"
Regardless of what your situation is, and what you believe, I think there's wisdom to be gleaned from my friend's response. What she was talking about is love...and the power of love. This goes beyond the usual head over heels, stars in the sky, butterflies in the gut feelings we've been taught to associate with romantic love. It's about two people, and the power their feelings for each other can create.
If a person can inspire another so much, it is a powerful force indeed! And the same can be said of all forms of love: that between a parent and a child (my kids make me want to be a better person every day), between friends, between siblings, relatives, and between a mentor and a younger person (a teacher and a student, a coach and an athlete, etc.).
And then there is a form of love that we usually overlook. Self love.
As a yogi, I believe that the center of love resides in the anahata (the heart chakra). It's easy to find it. It's in your chest, approximately four fingers below your clavicle. Try touching it. Close your eyes and visualize a warm green light all around you emanate from that center. The fourth chakra is usually represented as a lotus flower, with 12 petals. This is where you feel compassion, unconditional love and emotions.
The belief that love comes from deep within each of us, and that there is a spirituality (be it God or otherwise) within us that inspires this love is common across most religions in the world. It may be taught and represented differently, but the premise is the same.
Going back to the heart chakra. If you're still touching that spot, physiologically, this is also where the thymus is. The thymus is part of the immune system and produces T-cells, a group of white blood cells.
So now we know why they say love has healing powers, right?
This was written for friends, especially E, who is still looking for answers and S, who just had her fourth baby, and who said to me: "Spring is the season. Love is in the air."
"Ultimately, the reason why love and compassion bring us the greatest happiness is simply that our nature cherishes them above all else. " HH The Dalai Lama.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Singin' in the rain....
It's too darn hot, too darn hot! Yes, it was like summer in the last couple of days, almost hitting the 90s. I wanna sup with my baby tonight, play the pup with my baby tonight, but it's too darn hot! Actually I wanted to bum on the beach but he didn't write that.
So, lo and behold -- a thunderstorm warning?! Sure enough, I found myself drenched walking from school to the car on P Street tonight. I'm singin' in the rain, just singin' in the rain. What a glorious feeling -- I'm happy again! Yes, that was a welcome reprieve from the heat.
It didn't matter that the rain was messing up my makeup and I had to wash my hair again when I got home, 'cos rain, I get a kick out of you! I've been fighting vainly the old ennui, and I suddenly turn and see your fabulous face. I've had a rough day, tough week, crazy month, manic years. But in the moment the rain came down...the memory of all of that, no they can't take that away from me.
So, making sure that no one was watching, in one of those dark little streets in Georgetown, I did a little jig and tap in the rain, with the rain, almost like Gene Kelly. And I felt like heaven, I'm in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. And I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek.
So, thank you rain, for reminding me that you've got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, latch on to the affirmative, and don't mess with Mr. In-between!
* Inspired by rain in the night, great song writers (they don't write 'em like they used to) and gratitude for life itself.
So, lo and behold -- a thunderstorm warning?! Sure enough, I found myself drenched walking from school to the car on P Street tonight. I'm singin' in the rain, just singin' in the rain. What a glorious feeling -- I'm happy again! Yes, that was a welcome reprieve from the heat.
It didn't matter that the rain was messing up my makeup and I had to wash my hair again when I got home, 'cos rain, I get a kick out of you! I've been fighting vainly the old ennui, and I suddenly turn and see your fabulous face. I've had a rough day, tough week, crazy month, manic years. But in the moment the rain came down...the memory of all of that, no they can't take that away from me.
So, making sure that no one was watching, in one of those dark little streets in Georgetown, I did a little jig and tap in the rain, with the rain, almost like Gene Kelly. And I felt like heaven, I'm in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. And I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek.
So, thank you rain, for reminding me that you've got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, latch on to the affirmative, and don't mess with Mr. In-between!
* Inspired by rain in the night, great song writers (they don't write 'em like they used to) and gratitude for life itself.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
My Favorite Things
Silver white winters that melt into spring....
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad.
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