It came out of nowhere as the workday neared its end. One minute I was making progress on my to-do list; the next I was in complete meltdown mode. Inconsolable, indefatigable, petulant. I needed a time out--or a miniature Milky Way Midnight. I called my boyfriend at home and explained, with all the ration I could muster, that I did not want to grill seafood for dinner, nor did I want to eat any vegetables. I did not want to go to the grocery store, cook dinner, or pick up something ready-made. I was hungry and just wanted dinner to appear without either of us having to cook. I blamed it all on my lunch: a lovely pocket sandwich filled with a homemade bean dip, sprouts, cucumber, red pepper, carrots, avocado, and tomato. And now I had bacon on the brain. Or maybe an ice cream sundae.
Somehow, I made it to the grocery store. I staggered through the aisles, managed to run over my own foot with the cart, and left the store with an odd assortment of food, including a few mozzarella sticks from the prepared foods counter--which I ate before even leaving the parking lot.
Once home, I collapsed on the couch and ate slices of Swiss cheese and Sun Chips while watching that awful show about the Kardashian sisters on E! I didn't feel any better. I puttered around upstairs. I hovered over Andrew. I hovered over the cat. Finally, at my wit's end, I cleared a space in our spare room, swung my legs up the wall, and closed my eyes.
Twenty minutes later I reemerged, a whole new Holly. It wasn't long before I was in the kitchen running a knife through some fresh herbs and zesting a lemon for this delightful lemon spaghetti dish (how I managed to pick up parsley and cream in my state of mind earlier, I do not know).
So, did I learn any lessons while in my self-imposed time out? Glad you asked!
While a Milky Way Midnight (or 17) would have been delightful for a moment, what I was really craving most were a few slow, deep breaths. With all systems a go, go, go--and a to-do list that was growing by the hour--I had flat-out forgotten to pay attention to myself.
Viparita karani (a.k.a. legs up the wall, one of my favorite yoga poses) has a magical way of soothing my nervous system and draining tension from my limbs. Lying still and with my eyes closed, the deep breaths I needed a few hours earlier suddenly flowed easily. No fancy props needed (though they're nice), this pose is completely worth you clearing a place along the wall and giving it a try at home.
- Sit parallel to the wall with your hip right along the baseboard, knees bent and feet flat on the floor.
- Turn your hands so that your fingertips face the wall
- Begin to lower your back to the floor as you raise your legs up the wall
- Give yourself a little wiggle so that your backside is in nice and close to the wall
- Rest your arms by your side--above or below your head--with your palms facing up
- Give your shoulder blades a little tuck, rolling them back and down
- Exhale
With your eyes closed and nothing to do and nowhere else to be, use your breath to sweep away whatever it is that's cluttering your mind or weighing you down. Feel your chest rise and fall as you recharge your mental batteries, breathing in just as deeply as you let go on the out breath. Maybe you even choose a short little mantra to repeat to yourself, letting it absorb into your psyche with each inhale annd exhale.
If the logistics (i.e., working in an office) get in the way of you being able to slide your leg up the wall, just work with the breath component of this pose. Even if it means you have to hide out in a bathroom stall. Save the chocolate for another time when you can truly enjoy it. For now, just find your breath . . . perhaps for the first time today.
_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. Ahhh, the power of positive thinking and deep breaths. (Photo credit: Debra McClinton)
