Mantra Monday: Floss Daily.

I dislike going to the dentist, probably about as much as any other individual. This morning, after a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend traveling with the Mathematician and the Artist for a show and before setting foot in the office, I sat down in the dentist's chair for my 6 month check-up. My cleaning was proceeding as normal and then the dreaded question cheerfully popped - the question that strikes fear into the hearts of many patients:

"Have you been flossing daily?"

I'm reminded at this point of the bright red Lululemon shopping bags with their manifestoDance, Sing, Floss, and Travel and my heart sank. "Honestly," I replied, "not recently."

As the thin bundle of nylon fibers scraped down the sides of my teeth and snapped under the gum, I realized, that flossing is comparable to tending to the Self, the Soul; things that should be done to some extent every day. Even when the day isn't quite going right or you just done feel like it or there's another voice telling you there's something else you should be doing.

I came so close to heading directly back to my apartment after work, but a couple coworkers and friends reminded me about my practice - which is sort of like metal/physical/spiritual dental floss. At 6:10 or so this morning, on the drive back into DC I decided that I needed to go to practice. In class, I set myself in the far back corner and had probably one of my best practices. The first couple down dogs were a little difficult and I certainly considered throwing the "floss" away for the evening. But I diligently worked my way though the flow, not forcing myself into a pose that I couldn't fall into. In turn other poses opened up with fuller expression than I have achieved previously. Holding two sets of Bakasana, Crow Pose (if you remember, my nemesis from earlier this summer) for a total of 16 seconds!

Floss really isn't just a piece of nylon thread that your dentist asks you about every visit. It is an action that needs to be tended to every day. For the teeth. For the Self.

Mantra Monday: Some a day, is better than none a day.

The Artist has regularly said this to me since 6th grade.

This past weekend while I was taking a break from my regular yoga practice and fighting the good fight against the kipple* in my apartment (which has accumulated over the last...well, too long), I checked my email and there was one from a member of Bauhaus, forwarding a link to Life Hacker, what I can best describe as a Getting-Things-Done-Zen-Lifestyle tip blog. One entry on cleaning specifically struck me, 15 Minutes a Day. I immediately thought, "I'm now spending each and every one of those 15 minutes I previously didn't use cleaning - on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. GRRRRrrrrrr "

This is similar to the recent dialogs by the teachers at Down Dog, emphasizing the need to start a regular practice, even if it's just 30 minutes a day in your home. The simple act of returning to your mat every day, even if for a short practice with a yoga tape or dvd becomes cathartic and something to look forward to, just like that first cup of tea in the morning. Over the past 8 months, I feel I've developed a strong meditation and yoga practice, by just taking a little time for myself either right before or after work.

While vacuuming, my mind began to wander, it drifted to another blog started around the same time as this blog, Sixty Minute Artist. The process of a man setting out to spend a minimum of 60 minutes in his day on his painting. I've talked about this with Vespa Boy on multiple occasions and Friday night at the Dubliner, we made a pact. With the new year, each and every day we're going to spend a minimum of 60 minutes on our respective crafts.

His writing, my jewelry.

While doing battle with the forces of Kipple, I began to organize my jewelry pieces. Taking inventory of completed projects, pieces in process, thinking over my goals, and preparing for a meeting later this week. I was able to see my work in a new light. Tonight, I worked on a repair for CoffeeShop Girl and started working again on a piece I began out at Revere Academy - in January of this year. I spent well over an hour and a half working on my craft.
I feel great!

So tonight:

• I went to yoga practice.
• I finished cleaning my apartment
  (except for my paper files).
• I worked on jewelry.
• I wrote my blog entry.

Either 15, 30 or 60 minutes a day, they really do add up.

* Kipple is "useless objects, like junk mail or match folders after you use the last match or gum wrappers of yesterday's homeopape. When nobody's around, kipple reproduces itself. For instance, if you go to bed leaving any kipple around your apartment, when you wake up the next morening there's twice as much of it. It always gets more and more."
O.M.A., Rem Koolhaas, and Bruce Mau. S, M, L, XL. New York: The Monacelli Press, 1998. p.866

Mantra Monday: I will play on both sides of my edge.

Wake up. Stumble to kitchen. Fill kettle with water. Turn stove on. Pull out clothes for day. Choose shoes. Get ready for work. Pour tea. Pack bag for day. Walk to metro. Commute. Arrive work. Work. Commute home.

Generally, we're faced with the same routine every single solitary day - at some level we find comfort in these patterns that establish themselves. To make it sound more palpable, we call it a "routine." Things become predictable - in a world of quickly spinning chaos of the rest of the world it starts to feel almost "zen-like." Is that really what zen is supposed to be? Where is the exhilaration and wakefulness of life and the potential it holds?

If you're routine is numbing, it is anything but "zen-like." Then how can we actively wake up from these patterns? The easiest solution, as I started to explore in a recent post, mix it up a little. Wear flats to work one day. Try wearing a color you necessarily wouldn't try. Let go. But it's truly something more than that. Hold back. Recognize something in your life and actively seek out change. See where that change takes you.

When we hear, "play on your edge," we immediately assume that we have to do something wildly different or something that pushes closer to being superhuman or doing some fantastic feat of cortortion. That's not true at all. Sometimes it's asking for assistance or knowing to hold back.

In practice Sunday night, the visiting instructor recommended trying various modifications - to find something new. Put another way, to not automatically go to where you "always" find yourself in your pose. Instead of entering into full expression of side plank pose (vasisthasana) with your leg fully extended, try a modification, try placing your knee on the ground. A whole different series of sensations might present themselves. In the case of vasisthasana, maybe you're able to pull your hips higher and roll your shoulders open even more.

Playing on both sides of the edge gives you a gauge of where you are. The edge is not the precipice of a cliff. Think of it as the apex of a pyramid, a point to balance on, allowing self-discovery of something new about yourself by looking at yourself a little differently.

Mantra Monday: Smile! Laugh!

Yes, it's Thursday - not Monday. My thoughts, why not mix it up a little, Mantra Monday on a Thursday? At work we celebrated Halloween a day early so why not juggle the week around a bit more?

The office was inundated by a flood of the attorneys' children for pre-Halloween festivities on Tuesday this week. All in all, approximately 30 children from ages 4 mos all the way to 6 breathing life and energy into the silent, placid, taupe hallways. Needless to say a few escaped from the regimented trick-or-treating line, racing up and down the hallways hiding from their parents.

One child looked on my desk and inquired after the three bight colored balls resting there. He asked, "Are those stress balls? My dad has those on his desk too." As I reached for the balls, "No...watch." I began to juggle. His smile began to widen and his eyes brighten.

Looking at him, I instantly remembered watching the street performers and jugglers when the Artist, the Mathematician and I would travel up to Boston. I could sit for hours watching them contorting their bodies through tennis rackets, riding their unicycles, and juggling fire. Part of me likes to think that my parents had a fear that I was going to want to grow-up to be a street performer (sort of an oxymoron if you think about it), making it one of those clandestine occupations.

Many of us pass though our days without a good hearty laugh or a smile that is easily reflected back at us. One of the ways to find that smile, to find that laugh - channel the innocence and love for Life many of us have buried through hours of sitting in front of the computer, or paying bills, or commuting to work.

Maybe you'll even see me on a street corner in Georgetown during some lunch break.

What made you blissfully happy when you were a child?
Try to tap into that joy at least once a day.

Happy Halloween

On Saturday as we began our workshop, we were asked the question: What was your favorite Halloween costume?

The real question was: What was your favorite role that you played for one evening?

Halloween gives people free license to become something they cannot be in their everyday life. Super silly, super sexy, super scary – caricatures of that small voice that often doesn’t express itself. But if you think about it, don’t we play characters everyday?

We dress up in our best business suit and leather soled shoes to go to a meeting, put on a cute halter top and peep toe sandals to go out for a night on the town with our girlfriends, or put on our Lulu wear to go to yoga or relax at home. Really, they are all just costumes.

We can take this analogy one step further, stripping off that costume. Who do you see as your Self? Who is your main character? What is your role?

Pulling from my favorite mystery stories, I identify with Harriet Vane from Dorothy Sayers’ Lord Peter stories and Tuppence from Agatha Christie’s Tommy & Tuppence stories. Both are strong, independent and intelligent women, with a sharp wit, a great sense of style and flirtatious side.

I have a friend who is convinced that her Self was written by Jane Austen and she is now actually dating an Englishman. Walking onto the sales floor, the Artist sees himself as Archie Goodwin from Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe stories.

What character do you see yourself as?
What role do you play?

Workshop: When was the last time...

…that your entire being smiled?

Every weekday morning a jungle of well suited zombies emerge from the Metro doors. I admit, some days I also fall into formation - each individual moving indiscriminately through their day. Many of us chasing something, something that we think defines us. Chasing an impression of a dream, that remains illusive until we awaken to our true reality.

Last Thursday I had the opportunity to learn how to fly. In a few short minutes I relearned what it feels like to connect, feel the warmth of joy, to be truly present. My feet didn’t touch the ground for the rest of the evening – and I still don’t think they have found the ground. Yet, I feel more grounded than I have in the last year.

In life we’re presented many opportunities, it’s awakening to the spirit of the moment, to soar far past what our minds immediately perceive to see our true potential.

To smile.
To laugh.
To live.

* * *

This past weekend, Down Dog hosted a workshop in AcroYoga, lead by a woman with boundless energy, intrepid stillness, and a beautiful spirit. In my posts for this week I can only hope to share some of the volumes I learned in 5 short hours.

Mantra Monday: Everything is moving at the proper speed*

This evening after work I stopped by the grocery store conveniently located at my metro stop and picked up some essentials for the week. You know, milk, eggs, veggies, some marshmallows. As I was heading to check out, I saw that water was on sale, $1 for 3 liters. Impulse buy, but it’s water, water is good for you, I picked up one bottle.

Going through the check out I remembered that I have to walk approximately one mile up hill to my apartment wearing my 3.5” green suede/croc print stiletto heels today. No problem. If the bus was there, I’d take the bus. I walk out the door and there in the street lamp the glorious L2, stopped right in front of my market. Lumbered with my 3 liters of water and various other groceries I take my time heading to the bus stop, only to arrive as the bus is pulling away. I place my bags on the bench, look at the schedule and much to my chagrin to discover, the next bus is in 35 min (for those of you unfamiliar with the DC Metro bus system, 35 min = 45/50 min).

I made the executive decision to walk. Yes, carrying 3 liters of water and groceries – including eggs. I turned my iPod on and began my methodical and careful trek home. Every step jostling the bag with the eggs. With each jostle, I could feel my jaw clench in fear that I’d have scrambled eggs in the shopping bag by my arrival home.

After maneuvering into my building, up the stairs and into my apartment, I carefully place the bag with my eggs on the counter. I close my eyes as I lift the lid on the egg carton. All eggs are intact.

Every day we are faced with the challenge to live as freely as possible within the constraints we are given. Robert Frost said, "You have freedom when you're easy in your harness." How do we achieve this freedom with the harnesses that society has imposed? What about those we unwittingly impose on ourselves and those around us? Whether it’s our image we present to the world, or our lifestyle choice, or whether we use whitening toothpaste or not.

Part of it I think is acceptance, acceptance that we’re on the path we’re on, heading towards something. And, also, having the willingness to take some action and tread in the face of fear. I could have waited for the bus, but I wouldn’t have had as much time to work on my drawing tonight if I had waited. Another example, the Artist is finally taking steps to focus more time on his photography.

Calculated risks are almost always better than the haphazard.

So, the eggs?

After opening the lid, the phone rang, leaping across the kitchen to answer it, I knocked the carton to the floor, breaking each and every egg. My kitchen is now spotless, giving me space to work on jewelry and drawing.

I don’t mind trading a dozen eggs for that.

* Mantra originating from: Lasater, Judith. Living Your Yoga: Finding the Spiritual in Everyday Life. California: Rodmell Press, 2000. 80.