Getting to Yes

I came to yoga looking for an easy way out. I was a junior in college and needed a gym credit--and bowling was already full. So, yoga it was for me. Dressed in leggings and the requisite '90s flannel shirt, I made my way to the wrestling room in my campus' athletic center. It was a windowless, padded, smelly cell of a space. I took my seat on the floor and waited to be told what to do so that I could follow the instructions, earn my credit, and get back to my life . . . Funny the way those unexpected little things grab ya. 2014 will mark 20 years that I've been practicing yoga. Aside from writing (and reading, walking, and breathing), I haven't stuck with anything in my life for that long. What started out as a easy way to earn a gym credit has grown to become one of the most important ways--mentally, even more so than physically--that I choose to take care of myself.

The mental benefits took much longer to cultivate. Or maybe they just took longer for me to realize. Whatever the case, their lessons have been both subtle and profound. My yoga practice has taught me:

• To fall gracefully, and to enter into new things with grace, too.
• That perfection is an unattainable moving target I shouldn't be aiming for in the first place.
• That feeling sensation--that experiencing experience--is the real beauty of it all.
• That my body is a living, breathing thing. Embody it! Embrace it. Respect it.
• To feel my heart beat, to quiet my mind with inhales and exhales, and to use these tools to return to my home base.
• To go at my own pace, and not to worry about comparing my trajectory to anyone else's.

I know there are plenty of other ways for people to learn these lessons. But for me, there's just something about using a physical activity in order to tap into something mental. So, *that's* what that whole mind-body thing is all about . . .

For the last four years, I've consciously kicked off my new year with my radiant friend Chanel's soul-stirring class. We flow, we stretch, we restore, and we rock out a little bit to one of her awesome playlists. At the end of it all, we grab a sparkly slip of paper and an envelope. On that paper, we jot down for ourselves just one word that we're going to carry with us into the new year. Last year, I chose "truth,"--a word that has proven itself to be so daunting, so eye-opening, and so (deep exhale) right.

This year, I am going with "yes"--a word that came to me when I spotted a metallic wine-colored tote bag at the Cole Haan outlet last week. I've spent a lifetime already saying "no" to things. Not just "thing" things. To people, to opportunities, to possibilities. To my body, my soul, my heart.

I bought the bag--and a matching cosmetics case. I almost talked myself out of going to the outlets in the first place. Crowds. Sales. Chaos. Stuff. But I said "yes"--and then I said "yes" again. And then, as I drove home, I thought about all of the things I can't wait to say "yes" to in 2014.

And when I feel the "nos" start to creep back in, I've got all those tools listed above that will remind me how to get to "yes." Incidentally, there's a negotiations book called Getting To Yes--and every time I see it on a bookshelf, my brain translates it to "getting toys."

I sort of think saying "yes" is like getting a toy. It's fun. It's new. It brings about a smile, yes?

Soundtrack: "Blackbird" by Paul McCartney

Investment Advice, Good Karma Style

Along with sending letters in the mail and talking on phones with a handset and a curly cord, I enjoy listening to the radio. I like the variety--and the live voice on the other end of the airwaves. And a few mornings ago, when I had the radio on while getting ready for work, two things caught my attention--a public service announcement and a song--both of which have been floating around in my head ever since.

"For each hour of regular exercise you get, you'll gain about two hours of additional life expectancy." --American Heart Association

"Where you invest your love, you invest your life." --Mumford & Sons, "Awake My Soul"

Each thought is profound on its own. Invest in your life--for your heart's sake. Invest in your heart--for your life's sake. But together? They deliver a terrific jolt of present-moment awareness.

The secret to living the biggest, richest life possible? Hit the gym. Unroll your yoga mat. Chase the puck. Romp around the park with the dogs. Take a long walk. Speak from your heart. Pursue your dreams. Teach. Listen. Say I love you. Make the time. Rinse, lather, repeat.

*~*~*~*~

P.S. Here's where you can find that stat from the American Heart Association--and a youtube link to "Awake My Soul."

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©2012 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because it's never to late to begin investing in yourself. (Photo by Makena G via Creative Commons.)

On New Year's Resolutions and the Soul of 9

I've always loved the new year and its promise of a fresh start. Ironically though, I've been making the same resolutions for the better of 20 years now. Eat more vegetables. Watch less TV and read more books. Get more exercise and more sleep. Write more and submit my work for publication. 

I'd outline grand and precise plans in these areas, all designed to help me succeed. And then, when I'd get the slightest bit off track, I'd cast that goal aside and move on to something I could accomplish. Like watching every episode of House Hunters and What Not to Wear or walking to get a vanilla soft-serve cone with rainbow sprinkles on top for dinner.

I'm not lazy--nor am I a slacker. But I've always had trouble sticking with things. Even things that I enjoy. Turns out, it's my Soul of 9 that's holding me back.

Let me back up a bit: A few weeks ago, my kundalini yoga teacher was talking about the 10 bodies--a way of understanding and restoring balance in your life. Tantric numerology offers a window into our own bodies. Ever the curious one, I went online, entered my birthdate, and out popped my tantric reading.

My soul number--which identifies what's at the core of my consciousness--is a 9. It says that I'm very hard on myself (yep) and that I have a tendency to give up on things after a short period of time rather than sticking with them and mastering them (yep). It goes on to explain that, "without mastery, life is a mystery" to me and that "my joy in life will come from mastering things." On the one hand, I feel like this is just generic enough to apply to most all of us; but I have enough experiential evidence to know that my internal critic is snarkier than most.

So, how can I overcome this? The numerology report recommended a 1,000-day meditation. Just seeing the words "1,000 day" made me want to reach for the remote and flip on HGTV. But the perfectionist in me isn't willing to give up quite that easily this time.

After years and years of resolving to do all of these lofty and ambitious things and only making marginal success, I've decided to change my approach. In the spirit of Christine Kane's Resolution Revolution, my goal for 2010 is simply to finish.

Finish. That's it. Just one word. The goal being to infuse anything and everything that I aspire to with this intention. Those unread and partly read books on my shelves? Finish. My to-be-written essay ideas? Finish. My desire to eat vegan for two meals each day? Finish. My plans to run a 5k? Finish. You get the picture.

With just one word to aspire to, there's no room for drama, backstory, or excuses. Just do it.

"Don't fear the long road."                                                                                              --Michael Franti, Never Too Late

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2010 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because less is more--especially when it comes to setting a clear New Year's resolution. (Photo by Flowery L*u*z*a* via Creative Commons.)

All the Details

It has been a week of simple pleasures--the type of things that, all too often, I take for granted. Such as . . .

• Marveling at the clean blanket(s) of snow
• Accompanying Inky on his Caring Canines visit
• Buying holiday presents for a child whom I've never meet
• Enjoying the glow of my beautiful Christmas tree
• Cozying up on the couch with a loved one (pups nearby)
• Making breakfast for dinner (accompanied by a glass of malbec)
• Devouring my homemade calzone (even better the next day)
• Rearranging my end tables
• Adding 2010 plans to my cute new agenda book
• Accomplishing a big professional goal at work
• Fortifying myself with fresh-squeezed orange juice
• Savoring a bowl of tomato soup with parmesan croutons on a cold winter's night
• Receiving my first holiday card of the season
• Discovering a new (to me) musical group: the Vitamin String Quartet
• Making yoga + brunch plans with a good friend
• Attending my first kundalini yoga class with the gong
• Staying healthy (knock on wood and take my vitamins)
• Laughing together (oh, hello ab muscles)

How about you? What are some of the little pleasures that you've been taking for granted?

"The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life."                                                                                                                     --William Morris

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because everyday things can be pretty special, too.

Even Vegetarians Crave Meat Sometimes

I once dated a guy who would talk with his roommates--in longing, graphic detail--about Thanksgiving dinner. About the crispy, crinkly turkey skin; the juicy meat; the flecks of sausage in the stuffing; the pan drippings for the gravy. Together they ooohed and aaahed over this fleshy feat.

"So, why not just eat it?" I asked, quite matter of factly.

"Oh no. We could never," they responded in unison.

That was my introduction to the world of not eating meat for ethical reasons. It had never occurred to me, really,  that vegetarianism was more than just a band of people who didn't like their mother's pork chops and swedish meatballs. Giving up meat a couple of years ago was not a great sacrifice for me. I just never got excited over a nicely-marbled filet or a roasted chicken like others do. Soon after though, I began thinking about what it meant to not eat meat.

Perhaps it was all those years of staring into my pets' eyes; the proliferation of words like "grass fed," "hormone-free," and "free range" in the grocery store; reading The Omnivore's Dilemma; or some combination thereof. But the idea of eating a once-living creature just didn't make sense to me--not when there were so many other food options available.

I hate it. It's just not an industry that I can support. I am grateful to know that there are an increasing number of farmers who are taking care to raise their livestock humanely--and the more people who support this kind of farming, the less profitable the factory farms will be. At the end of the day though, the outcome is the same: chili con carne and buffalo wings, lemon chicken and BLTs.

With Thanksgiving just a few days away, I too have been thinking about how much I would enjoy a juicy slice of turkey with some stuffing on the side and a drizzle of gravy across both. More so than the taste, I think it's the ritual and tradition that I'm craving most.

Early on in my yoga teacher training journey, I read a book called If the Buddha Came to Dinner. Essentially, it said that food that has been lovingly prepared--no matter what it is--is a gift, and that if somebody grilled the Buddha a steak, he'd eat every last bite and say thank you. Meat should not ever go to waste.

Does that make him any less of a vegetarian? Is it possible to still practice ahimsa and enjoy a traditional Thanksgiving dinner? Or a bacon cheeseburger for that matter. Oh, how I long for a bacon cheeseburger . . .

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Just because less is more is my philosophy on eating meat, doesn't mean it needs to be so for you.

The Blind Spot in My Kitchen Cupboard

For as long as I can remember, Andrew and I have had a can of store-brand peaches in our cupboard. These peaches were so old that they predated our relationship. So old that the grocery store they came from had since changed its name--twice.  So old that "in heavy syrup" once had some appeal. If I had to guess, I'd say they were purchased around the same time that the Presidents of the United States of America were singing about the sweet orbs. In other words: these peaches had no right hanging out in our cupboard.

Growing up, I remember there being an ancient box of rice pudding in our pantry. "Nope, not that," my mother would say when my brother and I were trolling around for something dessert worthy. That box dated back to their newlywed days. It was a relic--and so too would be our can of peaches if I hadn't thrown them out this evening.

I had just finished watching Hoarders, a new show on A&E about people on the verge of crisis because of an inability to part with their belongings. One of the women featured had an inordinate amount of food in her home--most of it inproperly stored, forgotten about, and seriously spoiled. It turned my stomach just to watch. The whole time, I kept thinking about our peaches--envisioning the nastiness inside that can--and that they had to go. Now.

I pitched the peaches, can and all--my recycling feathers all a ruffle. To my suprise, I noticed a number of items in the cupboard that were past their prime. A can of tomato paste that was meant for a pasta fagioli recipe I last made in 2004. Three bags of slivered almonds best used by August 2008. More canned fruit. An imported can of Bachelors mushy peas. Raisins from our west coast road trip trail mix two years ago. One of my best friend's half-used bag of lentils from 2006. All of it now in the trash.

I knew that some of these items were in our cupboard; others were a complete surprise--even though I'm in there daily. Huh. Makes me wonder: What else is lurking in all those other blind spots in our home? And what ever happened to the Presidents of the United States of America?

 _________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after (and eat more peaches of the non-canned variety).

Maybe I Was Born to Run

Personal productivity experts say that one of the best ways to help you achieve your goals is first to put them in writing and then to share your plans with others. So, that's exactly what I'm doing, right here and right now. I am going to start running.

I had pretty much written this off a no-go quite a few years ago, remembering how silly I looked running (or so I was told) as a child, and later as a teen. With my legs flapping and my arms flopping, I too believed it wasn't a pretty sight. No big deal though; I had plenty of other activities to occupy my hours and never gave running a second thought.

Exercise has never really been my thing--that is, until I discovered yoga back in 1994. Heart-thumping, liberating, acrobatic, and introspective all at once, this package deal clicked with me and my long limbs right away. I quickly subscribed to its noncompetitive spirit and never looked back.

However, my body is calling out for some cardio--and my soul is begging for more time outdoors. I enjoy my alone time, like listening to eclectic music, and am inspired to introduce another healthy habit into my life. I need balance. So what if I have floppy arms? So what if my stride makes me look like I am hopping over puddles?

"You achieve much once you stop telling yourself you can't do things."                                                                                   -- Elizabeth Kadetsky

Here I go. I'll start this weekend; one foot in front of the other, one minute at a time. Cool Running has a Couch to 5K running program for raw beginners. In two months--with a commitment of training just three times per week--I should be able to run a 5K (that's just over 3 miles for those of us who never really learned the metric system) by the beginning of October. Just as the air starts to develop its New England crisp and the leaves begin to change colors. All the more reason to be outside.

I've satisfied the productivity experts by declaring my plans. Next, it's time to answer to the fitness pros and register for a race. My favorite part of this assignment is that so many of them are tied to some sort of charity or nonprofit cause. So, pick your platform and let that serve as motivation and inspiration to kick butt.

The plan:

• Get fitted for a new pair of sneakers from the pros at Marathon Sports. Resist the nagging temptation to purchase a heart rate monitor or a cute running skirt.
• Take a nice, long walk in my new sneakers to break them in. Load up the mp3 player with some good, rollicking music.
• Sign up for an upcoming 5K run/walk. (I'm eyeing one in my old neighborhood that benefits the Travis Roy Foundation; I wish the Boston Race for the Cure was a bit later!)
• Begin the Couch to 5K program, starting with 60 seconds of jogging followed by 90 seconds of walking, for a total of 20 minutes.
• Keep at it--three times a week for the next two months, along with twice weekly yoga.
• Celebrate!

Can I do it? Of course I can. Not only am I really looking forward to spending more time outdoors--and getting in better shape--but I'm excited to carve out this additional 90 minutes per week to do some additional mental housekeeping. To-do lists, goals lists, daydreaming, story ideas, more daydreaming . . . bring it on. 

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© 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Making the space--mentally and physically--to live happily ever after. (These two photo copyrights are not my own--though I wish I could claim them. Don't you just love that dog face?)

Spinnin' Spree

It has only been two weeks, but I think I'm ready to announce that I am in love--with my salad spinner. I know, two weeks might seem a bit premature, but I've made enough salads in my life to know a quality gadget when I see it. The generously sized basket, the sturdy construction, its no-slip base. And oh, lest not I forget the ergonomic pump. This baby has more giddy-up than my boyfriend's GTI. My greens are squeaky clean, even fluffy. Sure, I've waxed poetic over other kitchen gadgets before. The bread machine. The rice steamer. The popcorn popper. The ice cream maker. I've long since given those space hogs away (well, not the ice cream maker). But this one's different. Salads have never tasted so good. Not to mention, perfectly dried greens don't require as much dressing. And did I mention just how much fun it is to get the greens spinning really, really, really fast?

_________________________________________________________________________ © 2009 Good Karma Housekeeping. Although less really is more, I do enjoy a new kitchen gadget every now and then.