The Perils of Positive Thinking

Yeah, I know. The perils of positive thinking? On a Yoga blog?? Isn’t Yoga about finding inner peace, harmony, tranquility, and all that…well, positive stuff?

Yes, it is. Definitely, yes. Except that sometimes, it isn't.

Once you develop anything more than a superficial understanding of Yoga, you begin to understand that it deals with the varying states of mind and thought that keep us in isolation, turmoil, and varying degrees of suffering. As we become aware of our thought patterns, unravel their depths and work to develop new patterns, we can change our experience of ourselves and our lives so that we feel more connected to others, the world around us and our own spiritual center.

The thing is, this takes work. Usually a lot of hard work, and the real essence of it comes when things are at their most challenging. Recently I entered the most challenging period of my life thus far, in which I find myself constantly plagued by fear, doubt, unrealistic expectations, conclusions and a whole lot of uncertainty. There are challenges with work, with finances and with relationships. To cope, I've been telling myself to think positively, have faith and keep myself feeling good and it will all work out. You know about “The Secret?” (otherwise known as the “law of attraction”)and similar metaphysical concepts to which Yoga is often linked? They say that you can control your reality, even manifest anything you desire simply by focusing on your goals, thinking positive thoughts and feeling good, virtually all the time. Sounds good, right? And it works…except that sometimes, it doesn't.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not denying the power of goal-setting, positive thinking and the need to do whatever you can to make your situation better. What I am I am saying is that there are times when, even as you work on your thought patterns -- and perhaps particularly as you do so -- you’re going to feel like crap. You may do everything you can to help a situation and it doesn’t change. You may have a moment where you change a typical thought pattern and start feeling better only to have the pattern rear its head in revolt like an angry lion and take over. Things may get worse before they get better, and some things may not get better at all.

What is crucial to realize here is that this is all part of the process, and that there can even be great value in these so-called negative thoughts and feelings.

1. They can be a gauge. Imagine someone keeps slapping you in the face and you just keep telling yourself you can think your way to making that feel better – no. Your pain can tell you when you’re not in a good situation and you need to get out of it.
2. They can give you great empathy and compassion. We all do suffer, and usually we feel better getting support from someone whom we know has lived through something. If you suffer and use the principles of working with your mind to cope, you can support someone with real wisdom and authority.
3. They can help you get support. I hate to “dump” on my friends and to think I’m being seen as less than positive but when the pain’s gotten too great I’ve shared some of my struggles with close friends, and even posted some status updates on Facebook – and received an outpouring of support, some of it unexpected, that has been absolutely uplifting. I don’t think I could get through this time without it.
4. They allow you to be human. When things aren’t going well, many of us blame ourselves and it affects our self-esteem. If we tell ourselves that if we could only think positively, we wouldn’t feel so bad, we take on the burden of a harsh, unnecessary layer of judgment that often feels worse.

Yoga is very much about balance, and while we may always be striving for self-improvement, part of life and of practice is to feel, and part of feeling is to feel it all, the good and the bad. What is most important is whether we can mobilize our energies to get support, and navigate through tough situations and learn from them, resulting in a life that is psychologically and emotionally rich, and informed by the wisdom of deep experience. Of this, I feel positive. Om shanti.

The Wisdom of Uncertainty

I've been thinking a lot lately about "knowing." My favored approach to Yoga and meditation teaches that through these practices we become a clear channel for the universal energy and develop the courage to be guided to act through intuitive prompting, even when our conscious mind is uncertain about the path. I still believe this -- but it is curious to me when the "knowing" extends to feeling that you understand the meaning of a particular experience and it turns out very differently. This came up in a recent experience where I met someone with whom I felt a mutual connection that I thought would continue. After we met, I "knew" we would meet again, it felt very clear and certain; however, it quickly became clear that we would not. This led me to question what I actually felt certain about -- I was certain about my own experience, that was easy. But I also felt certain of the other person's experience, based on words, action and...well, you know, the vibe. Isn't that what we're talking about, the vibe? And yet, I was wrong.

It seems to me that "knowing" and trusting the energy in a particular moment is very often attached to the idea of a particular outcome, and this subtle distinction is key. When we practice, we learn to sense what to do moment to moment and follow the energy and be willing to see what happens, and to give up our expectations. It means that despite our absolute best efforts, we still can't know another person's experience and we can't know for sure what is going to happen. It becomes clear that we are all swimming in a vast ocean of uncertainty, the realization of which I think is too much for most of us to tolerate. And yet, if we are to really try to understand our lives in the context of the greater energy, we must be willing to admit how little we actually know, shift our perspective to our present experience and become fully awake and aware to the mystery of the moment. At least, I think so.

What Spiritual Practice Is For

Spiritual practice may take on its greatest meaning not when things are going well in your life but when you feel like you just can't go on. Yoga and meditation feel great when you're "up" and "in the flow," and can easily point to the ways they are making your life better. This is often especially true in the early stages of practice, when energy starts flowing and you feel revitalized.

Eventually, however, you're going to hit those limits -- whether it's tightness in a muscle, a habitual behavior or stubborn, deeply rooted emotion. It's going to feel uncomfortable, it's going to hurt, and chances are you're going to want to run. Sometimes we back away from the edge like it's a frightening cliffhang; sometimes we run completely back to the safety and comfort of where we started, trying to forget we've seen the precipice; sometimes we retreat all the way into mental and emotional numbness.

If you're committed to the path of spiritual growth and find yourself at the edge -- of discomfort, pain, even your sanity -- then remember this is exactly the point to which your practice needed to take you. This doesn't mean the practice isn't working -- quite the opposite. It's wringing you out, clearing you, cleansing you, on every level. Feeling sadness? Grief? Anger? Breathe it, let it move through you, and take care of yourself, knowing that this too shall pass. And when it does, you will have reached a new place that you have not yet truly known, but where you are certainly meant to be. This is what spiritual practice is for. [With gratitude to Sri Sally Kempton.]

Creak...creak...

No, it's not the arthritic squeak of stiffened joints and underused limbs, it's the oiling up of writing chops that haven't been exercised in a while...time to summon up that 5th chakra energy (vissudha) and see what flows...stay tuned...

No Guru, No Method, No Teacher

I've had a love-hate relationship with Yoga since I first began it, and lately it's been more -- well, to be frank, hate. I came into it with no undertanding of it as anything but a physical practice and the intention to eventually teach it, as it seemed a natural extension of my fitness and movement experience. Once I started to learn, I thought, "Hmmm, this isn't exactly what I had in mind." I persisted, however, and along the way I've learned that there are as many views on what Yoga is as what it isn't, and so many different approaches to practice it can make your down dog dizzy. There's constant talk of developing your own "authentic" practice, but so often we find ourselves slyly looking to the side to see what the person next to us is doing, eating, wearing, thinking, chanting -- and comparing, especially if you're a teacher. Never mind that you might be a successful teacher who teaches well-attended classes, helps people tremendously and can actually make a living doing this thing called Yoga. You have your own issues that follow you along and you think, this just isn't me.

I almost gave up on Yoga recently -- I got tired of the pressure (albeit self-imposed) of thinking I just wasn't authentic enough and that I was sick of watching my every move and thinking this is or isn't Yoga. I didn't give up teaching, but I did give up on trying to define myself in any way, and just allowed myself to take life as it came, using the skills and tools I've learned the best way that I can. And it turns out, ironically, that this is becoming Yoga, or at least my Yoga. I've stopped thinking about what is the "right" way to teach my various classes and clients, and trusted the inner guidance and awareness in the moment. I reflect on what I do and think about whether I could have done more or differently, but without the judgment. The practice is coming back to life and the creativity and relevance is coming back to the teaching. So maybe, like all learning, you take as much time as it takes to study and try on and experience different attitudes, mindsets, methodologies -- them you throw it all away and see what happens. As suggested by the title of one of Van Morrison's albums, with "no guru, no method, no teacher," you find your own Way. That seems to be what it was really all about from the start.

Om shanti.

Economic Realities

The age of email has changed communication in many ways, some for better and some for worse. One of these changes is that it can be much easier to deal with uncomfortable issues because of the impersonality of the technological medium. However this impersonality often influences decisionmaking in ways that may shortchange you. Here's an example: naturally, I get email requests for information about services, including rates. While I prefer to speak with people directly (and I mean by phone, in which we have a live conversation), I respond to these requests honestly, and of course there are many times when I never hear from the person again. There could be any number of reasons for this, but for those who are interested in contracting for any kind of one-on-one service during the economic downturn -- be it Yoga instruction, therapy, web site design, or anything else -- there are some things to keep in mind.

It is always best to discuss rates personally, since there may be occasions when fees can be negotiable. Often there is a connection between a practitioner and a potential client that can be felt even in a phone conversation. I've negotiated with people when I thought there was an especially good fit, with seniors on fixed, incomes, etc. I've also had people at first uncertain about this kind of expense later decide it was well worth it, as the benefits far outweighed the cost.

Hourly service rates are not just profit. My fees have to cover taxes, Social Security payments, and travel time -- an hour-long in-home session could actually end up being three hours of time for me. I'm not complaining -- this is my professional choice. But you're also paying for my experience, talent, and for that sense of connection that you can't find with just anyone.

If you're searching for a teacher, therapist or counselor, don't shortchange yourself by cutting off the investigation process too quickly. You're making an investment in your health, well-being and the quality of your life that could have huge payoffs later in saved medical expenses, higher productivity and greater peace of mind. Give yourself every chance to explore the best place to make that investment. If we find ourselves working together, we'll both be the better for it. If you find yourself better off with another teacher, we all still benefit. Now is the time to spend your money wisely, not by making no investments, but by making the best ones you can find.

Wishing you peace and prosperity -- om shanti.

Getting Back in Gear

Wow, it's been about 6 months since my last post. What's been going on since that time? Seemingly, not a whole lot. I'd say it's been a transitional time but when the transitional period seems more like an epoch unto itself, it's a little embarassing! Then again, I've always been one to take a long time to make changes. I use things up till they're absolutely gone -- soap, toothpaste, etc. -- before I buy a replacement; I hold onto relationships till it's beyond clear that they've outlived their shelf life.

My first epiphany about this came back in about 1990, on an Outward Bound course. There was a lot of profound experiential learning for me on that trip but the greatest came at the very end, during the ropes course. I sat perched on the edge of a very high platform willing myself to jump off and be carried across the zip cord, but I was paralyzed by fear. I was perfectly safe -- harnessed in securely, attached to strong ropes and solid equipment -- but none of this registered right then. For a while, the rest of the group was supportive, shouting encouragment and urging me on. Eventually, though, they lost interest and wanted to move on to lunch.

I knew I could give up but I also knew I'd never forgive myself if I did. I kept thinking that if I could just hold on tightly enough, I could let go! Paradoxical, yes, but this is the battleground of the rational mind. Eventually, something in my brain just switched over -- I loosened my grip on the rope and thought, "whatever happens, happens." As I slid off the edge of the platform I thought about death, that ultimate fear that keeps us bound. I dropped, I screamed, and, of course, I was supported. It was even -- fun!

The experience taught me much about holding back versus letting go and trusting - like Yoga, which teaches that ultimately we are not in control and to live in accordance with guidance we've got to learn to listen and trust that it's taking us where we need to go. This is a lesson I've had to experience over and over, and this period in my life is no exception. Soon, I hope, that switch in my brain will flip and I'll finally be free to move forward. I just hope lunch isn't over with.