Month: September 2014

21 Day Challenge – Day 11 – Shift Happens

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bigstock-Women-doing-childs-pose-in-yog-37535017

Something is shifting. It’s so subtle it would be easy to overlook.

Every challenge issued and completed under the Enchanted Living umbrella is about eliminating the space junk flying around in my (our) head so that I can enjoy every moment. It has always, ever and only been about becoming keenly present. Aware. Moment to moment.

This is where enchantment happens. It is about letting go of the to-do list and just being right here, right now. It’s a lofty goal. And for most of us not achievable every second of every day. But cultivating more moments of presence is always doable.

It’s starting to happen more and more for me.

I was recently feeling overwhelmed with a plate full of obligations. I dove deeper into my time at the gym, being there fully instead of whining my way through it. I went to my mat with curiosity for each and every posture. Then ‘magically’ the two that were causing the most angst corrected themselves seamlessly. I still have a lot to do but it’s just sort of happening, unfolding just as it should. Priorities are revealing themselves. Stuff is getting done and I’m not stressed about it.

I have more strength. In less than two weeks I can feel the difference. My lung capacity has improved, my balance and my confidence in all things physical is up. Back on that yoga mat I’ve become curious about my ability to go deeper, confidently experimenting with my own capabilities. And it’s fun.

This awareness has taken some interesting turns. I am more organized. My house is cleaner. I am purging stuff (again, I love to purge). And I have time. Time to listen to clients, time to have deep, meaningful conversations with friends, time to be.

It is all happening very slowly. If it wasn’t part of my intention of this challenge I might miss it completely.

But it’s the work.  My body loves to move. Now that it is, my mind can let go of all the chatter. My mind was never the problem as I suspected. It’s master plan all along, I suspect, was to continue to push me until I found the solutions that worked for my ultimate benefit.

In yoga, we’re always taught to get the mind out of the way, let go of the ego, but a favorite swami put it something like this: It is good to go beyond the mind, but we must use the mind to go beyond the mind. The mind is a tool.

As I continue to work through these challenges I am sharpening the best tool in my tool box.

 

21 Day Challenge – Day 10 – Speaking of Grandma

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Old Round Eyeglasses.

There is a little old man that comes to the gym. He’s probably about 128. He shuffles in with his “training book” in hand, heading to the first machine that has a seat. He’s wearing polished black dress shoes and black socks that are reaching for his knees. His short sleeve button down shirt is pressed and reveals a white undershirt beneath it. His shorts match his shirt in color.

His still bright eyes probe the room for his trainer beneath Harry Potter style glasses. He rests. All the hair on his head, and there is a surprising amount for his advanced age, is combed forward as if the wind is always at his back.

He gives up on his trainer, places his book on the ground beside the machine. I’m concerned about the picking it back up part. He sets his weights, tucks his polished shoes beneath the padded roller and begins to extend his legs. He’s a pro.

As I wipe the sweat from my eyes I notice a diminutive woman about 80 something on the elliptical machine beside me. Maybe she’s his daughter. Her head is jutted forward a little in line with her hunched shoulders.  She tightly grasps the set of handles that don’t move. She plods away. I believe she was in place before I chose to sweat beside her.

I leave her there after 10 minutes to attend to personal matters that have everything to do with consuming two cups of coffee before I got here and 2 bottles of water since.

When I come back out I hop on the treadmill. 5 minutes later she is beside me again. She sets herself up with her towel and something that may be an mp3 player. She starts to walk.

An older man walks in the door, sees her and waves with a giant smile. She returns both.

Am I in Cocoon?

It is late morning and people with jobs have come and gone or will be here later. This time is held for those of a certain age that have no use for retirement homes. They are active, a little slow, but determined. This is not the first time I have seen these two here. And there are many others.

Right now, at this time of day a solid 70% of the gym is geriatric. 25% is filled with people closer to my age that take this working out thing very seriously. Big guns, tight abs, glorious glutes. They probably got here when it opened and just don’t see any reason to leave.

The other 5% of which I am part is comprised of women like me who likely work at something but have the flexibility to slip away and get in a class or a swim.

It’s growing on me, this gym life. Once I got out of my own way and actually asked for help, a whole world of possibility opened up for me.

There’s a life lesson in there somewhere.

21 Day Challenge – Day 9 – Not Your Grandma’s Calorie

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Diverse Hands Holding The Word Calories

Remember when calories mattered? When they were all the rage? Then it was sugar and everything became sugar free. Then we eliminated fat, but had to add sugar so the cardboard was palatable. Soon after carbs became the enemy. The truth is we need all of that, okay, maybe less sugar, but we need good fats, and vegetables and fruits ARE carbs. And after all calories still matter. They’re just not very glamorous.

The science hasn’t changed, these diet shenanigans were mostly marketing tools used to keep us from getting bored with the same old stuff. Pulling our dollars in this way and that. And it made us fat and unhealthy. It confused our metabolism and messed with our heads.

Let’s take a trip back to simpler times and revisit the calorie.

Before you yawn and turn to something shinier, would it interest you to know that in other countries calories are called energy units?

We are going to combine two boring things you thought you would never use again and make it fun. Calories and math.

Back in the day we would look at a chart that had our age and weight and say, okay, I should be consuming 2,000 calories a day. Good start, but it’s a little more complex than that.

Food is fuel to be used as energy. We expend energy during the day, and even when we sleep.

Ergo: Energy Units Consumed (food/calories) minus Energy Expended (breathing/moving) = Energy Burned or Energy Stored.  If you take in more energy than you expend in a day what is left over becomes either stored energy or excess weight in the body.

If you use more fuel than energy units taken in you will either be depleted or lose weight.

But what I really love is this connection to food. By calling them calories we make them something unrelatable to our workaday lives. Knowing we need energy to perform tasks and well, live, we now can also see that food is the fuel that gives us said energy.

It simplifies everything. Obviously some energy units are more packed with nutrients than others. But the math still stands.

So as I start playing with my food this week I will look at my food as an energy source, not just something to satisfy my physical or emotional appetite. If I can recognize that my appetite is driven by emotions, I must also realize that eating to pacify those emotions will actually fuel them instead, leading me to eat more of the ‘bad’ stuff.

Or, I can just figure out how much energy I need to burn to make those sweet little chocolates disappear.

 

 

 

21 Day Challenge – Day 8 – Sweet Stuff

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Pouring sugar over a strawberry on a spoon

Sugar and I are madly in love and can’t be apart for more than a few hours. He’s with me during my morning coffee. He’s there for me if I’m feeling a little low. When I reach for an iced tea he’s there. We love to spend long, lazy summer afternoons together with a bowl of fresh strawberries or peaches. And at night, oh night time is the sweetest. We’ll sit for hours snuggled on the sofa and watch a movie or read a good book.

Sometimes he likes to hide from me, but I can always tell he’s been there by the flutter in my chest followed by sleepy bliss.

I wouldn’t dream of breaking up with him. Not completely.  I’ve done it before, we’ve taken a break or cooled it a little but never have we parted for long. Life loses all flavor without my little cupcake.

I know it’s not right. It’s one of those toxic relationships people just don’t want to talk about. So I think it’s time to limit our interaction with each other. He doesn’t have to linger as long in the mornings or come by at all during the day. Maybe he can stop by for a little dessert in the evenings. Little. Once in a while.

Besides, spending time away from my honey will make what time we do spend together all the sweeter.

He’s okay with it too. I tend to deplete him.

I would let him go altogether, I would, but he just comes back. And he comes on strong, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, bringing me chocolate and wine.

No, this is best, albeit bittersweet. Limited visitation. We’ll see how it goes from there.

Ah, but parting is such sweet sorrow.

21 Day Challenge – Day 7 – Skulduggery Afoot

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Diary Book

One week in and here’s what I’ve learned:

  1. I am still really good at tricking myself into and out of what is good for me. Like professional grade status.
  2. I’m getting smarter and quicker at catching the skullduggery and doing the right thing more often than not.
  3. I have not lost one ounce but I have gained a ton of energy. Before committing to the “work-out” I was fuzzy, forgetful, tired, whiney, angry and frustrated. Now I’m just occasionally and strategically forgetful.
  4. I don’t like being pushed. And apparently I “bargain” with my trainer. Whatever.
  5. And, I actually like raising my heart rate and sweating.

While all of this seems like good news – and it is – what I am lacking is routine or ritual. I need structure. I fight structure. Do you see the problem? I exhaust myself.

A year or so ago I went through some of my old journals, and there are millions. I was expecting to find witty remarks, deep thoughts and profound insights. You know, the stuff that would comprise the movie they make about me in 100 years after they unearth these tomes of brilliance. What I found between profundities were pages and pages, years and years of planning my day. Get up at 5, 6, 5:45, work out, eat breakfast and on and on.

How depressing. Not so much that I was planning, but that I never really worked the plan.

In almost every case, everything I wanted to accomplish during the day had to be finished by 11 AM, my high point of creativity and energy during the day, so I was progressively getting up earlier and earlier. What did I expect to do with myself after 11? Have lunch with friends, skulk around independent bookstores, chat up shop owners and do gooders, come home cook a gourmet meal and share my day with my husband?

Sounds pretty amazing, actually, perhaps I should revisit those journals.

But I digress.

So now what? Plan again? Start over? Wing it? It’s the act of planning that feels solid to me. I have always been this way. I am the idea person, I’m going to lay it all out and then YOU go implement it.

There appears to be a learning opportunity for me. Can I be the implementer? I know I will fight it. For the past 8 years I have had my own businesses and my time is my own. Schedules just happen organically.

I think if I have a short list of things I plan to accomplish during the day – whenever – I will get them done.

No. That feels like a cop-out. I feel like there is a huge opportunity for me to break through this resistance to what is good for me.

I need the structure. I need to create non-negotiables. I just do these things because they are what I do. I brush my teeth every day, shower, make my bed. Why not pranayama, meditation and an hour of movement? Why not indeed.

There. Now onto the schedule.

You should know that in my head I’m already coming up with reasons why this won’t work.

 

21 Day Challenge – Day 6 – They Mean Well

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Cookie bite

Every day I try to bargain with myself. Maybe Wednesday will be my day off. Maybe Saturday should be my day of rest. I’m moving more now than I have in a while, what’s one cookie? Or five?

But then, why do I want to take a day off from radiant health? That’s what sick days are for and I really don’t ever look forward to being sick. And why would I bargain for something that ultimately will be the gateway for more creative excuses?

I’m learning. I still cheat.

When I get involved in something on the computer, I am typically sucked in, eyes glued to the screen, fingers flying, looking away only to let go of the shapes of letters so I can form original thoughts (hopefully). I enjoy it.

And it’s a very convenient excuse. I need to do this, whatever it is that’s in front of me. And if it isn’t this, I’ll make something up equally weighted with good intention.

There is the good Allison, the higher self version of my carbon based form. Let’s call her Allisun (a friend actually types my name like that and I rather like it). Allisun understands that the planning I go through with a tremendous amount of resolve is actually an intention I set for myself. She also gets that Allisin (the ne’r do well ego operated side of me) is very convincing and sometime “Sun” is powerless against “Sin.” Or let’s say weakened.

While Allisun peeks around the laptop screen gently pushing it closer and closer to the keyboard, crowding my fingers out, Allisin pushes it back open so we can ‘get things done.’

Allisun takes me to the gym, maneuvers me around food courts and cupcake trucks. She turns the music up so I’ll dance while I clean and she encourages me to do all those healthy things I promised myself.

Allisin believes that the ego should reign supreme, she is after all its spokesmodel, and as such she needs to feel a sense of accomplishment, productivity. Not a bad thing, just misdirected at times.

They could so easily work together if they could just learn to communicate.

Today, Allisin tried to convince us that it would be a good day to take a break from this silly health nonsense and eat some chocolate for crying out loud. We should cruise social media and text friends. Maybe we should think about cleaning the house or just play with the dogs.

Meanwhile, Allisun had planned on finally trying Zumba. She did clean a nice portion of the home, succumbed to a few morsels of chocolate and actually got a little work done.

Then it started to rain. Pour. Allisin saw no reason to leave the house in a downpour. Allisun waited it out.

We all went to Zumba. Then we had mashed potatoes for dinner.

Everyone was happy.

21 Day Challenge – Day 5 – Gym Zombie

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Zombies IMG_6407

Today I had no appointments or classes around which to build my schedule. Sounds divine in that laissez-faire kinda way. But for me, I need an anchor, I need structure and I am not so great at setting it for myself.

I have had an incredible amount of work lately – all good – but overwhelming at times, so today was to be a get-it-done kind of day.

I slept in – which is to say 7 AM. I drank my two (ish – don’t judge) cups of coffee, had some toast and sat down to craft my plan. But first, let’s see what’s happening on Facebook. Wonder what some of my favorite bloggers are ranting about today. The dog wants out. The cat catches then releases a sparkly fish on an elastic line. Facebook pings. Let’s check email. Then the other email. Has that new Indian restaurant opened yet? Oh look, how cute is her new puppy? Is that a text? Where’s my phone?

And so it goes.

I did manage after about 30 minutes wrapped up in STS (Shiny Thing Syndrome) to focus. I think the coffee helped. Seriously. It’s medicinal.

I plunged into my work – my computer work I like to think of it. Responding to emails, texts and messages. Creating flyers for upcoming events. Writing copy for my own blogs, imaginary books and for real people who pay me. Organizing teacher trainings. Creating email blasts and Facebook posts. Editing photos. Stuff like that.

It draws me in sometimes and I can’t extract myself. Just one more tweak here, one more edit there. On my magical list in the sky today was the gym. Maybe a class. I received a more comprehensive list from my trainer, but I still don’t know what machines are what or how to use them. It’s frustrating. Still I thought maybe a class. Zumba?

I remembered it being in the afternoon, around 4, but I checked the schedule just to be sure. There was a class at 9:45. Missed that one. Around 3:30 I suited up, grabbed my iPod, and then headed out the door. On the way I double-checked the schedule. It was at 4:30 YESTERDAY. I went anyway. It’s the new me.

Since I didn’t have my new list – conveniently – I snubbed the machines. I wanted to go straight to the treadmill, we’re friends, but chose the elliptical instead. I decided on 10/10/10. Elliptical, treadmill, bike. Sounded reasonable.

About 1:30 in on the elliptical I started scrambling for excuses to abandon ship. Maybe this wasn’t good for my knees. My heart rate might be too high. Then I decided to become curious. Let’s just pay attention to how this feels, what’s going on in my body, I suggested to the ‘Flight’ part of my brain.

Four minutes in I hit my stride. I took a visual walk around my sweaty play pen. So many people looking unhappy. Working really hard and never getting there. That’s what I saw on their faces, anyway. They were doing it for someone else, to get something, not for their own energy. They were still reaping all the benefit, healthier heart, leaner muscle mass, but was that enough for them? It didn’t seem like it.

As I make my way around the vast room of clanking weights and grunting people I finally land on the stair climbers. We haven’t officially met yet. I  tend to walk a wide berth around them as if trolls can reach out and pull me onto the bottom step forcing me to walk up.

Atop the one closest to me is a man in his 30’s probably. He is leaning on the arm grip, barely able to sustain. He looks over at me, mouth open, eyes dead. He has achieved gym zombie status and apparently my brains are the only thing that can save him right now. We lock eyes as he continues to climb to nowhere. Creeped out I return my attention to reruns of Sex in the City set to the beat of the Gipsy Kings.

10 minutes done. Could have done more. 10 minutes on the treadmill. Then a relatively boring 10 minutes on the bike.

It’s raining. Hard. I can walk through the rain to my car, or stay here and do something else.

It felt good to get wet.

 

 

21 Day Challenge – Day 4 – Every Breath You Take

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437Today I feel strong. As I walk to the front of my mat in yoga class I feel steady and sure. I have my breath.

Prana. Chi. Life force.

So little is taught about breathing. I guess since it just sort of happens we don’t really pay much attention to it. Until we can’t breathe “normally” anymore. Unless we grew up with asthma or allergies. But mostly it’s just there.

If we do pay attention to the breath we can change every system in the body. We can balance the mind, stoke digestive fires, cleanse the blood and overall awaken the physical form.

There was an Ayurveda study done in India on obese subjects. One group was placed on a diet specifically for their individual constitution. The other group was given pranayama – a specific breath to be done a requisite number of times – 30 minutes before each meal.

The group that deliberately breathed lost significant amounts of weight.

A personal friend of mine has been experimenting with the same phenomenon. He has been practicing various forms of pranayama throughout the day – occasionally switching it up to see what difference it makes. He continues to eat and imbibe as always, his activity level has remained the same, and he has lost weight. He also reports an overall sense of well-being.

The breath he uses is different than the one used in the study. The amount of time he breathes consciously differs as well. But the results are very similar.

Pranayama is one of the eight limbs of yoga. It’s easily overlooked outside of the classroom. It’s often forgotten inside the classroom. And it’s practically non-existent in daily life as a practice.

Prana is life force, like Chi in Chinese medicine, it works with the breath, but it is not the breath. Prana is in every living thing. We receive prana from the food we eat, the sun, the air and certainly from breathing. Throughout most days we are leaking prana, giving it away to negative thoughts, anger, jealously. We are squandering Life Force. Losing. Life. Force.

All one has to do to get it back is breathe. Consciously.

Here is the breath used in the Ayurveda study. Try it. Twice a day. 5 minutes each time. Start there. Not for weight loss – although that may be a happy side effect – but for Life.

Naadhi Shodhana – alternate nostril breathing.

Vishnu mudra rightMake a fist with the right hand. Extend the thumb and last two fingers. The thumb and fingers rest lightly on the nose, just above the nostrils so very little pressure or movement is needed to close each side.

 

Take a deep breath in through the nose. Close the right nostril with the thumb.

Exhale through the left nostril. Inhale through the left nostril. Close the left nostril.

Exhale through the right nostril. Inhale through the right nostril. Close the right nostril.

Continue with this process for 5 minutes. Finish by exhaling through the right nostril. Place both hands in the lap, close the eyes briefly – maybe meditate for five minutes – then return to your normal routine.

Other ways to increase life force:

– Eat a mostly organic, plant based diet

– Exercise with intention and presence

– Be present. Thoughts of the future or past are normal, but too much time spent in either place robs you of precious life force than can be used right now.

– Cultivate compassion. Anger, jealously, regret, hate all deplete prana. When you catch yourself enveloped in any of these strong emotions, breathe.

Just breathe. Consciously. Often. Inhale gratitude. Exhale love.

 

21 Day Challenge – Day 3 – Reality

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Image of female foot running on treadmill

The insides of my elbows hurt. How is that even possible? What’s even in there?

Today I went back to the gym. It was 6-ish in the morning and many sweaty bodies were already punishing themselves.

I dutifully hopped on the treadmill to do my 5 minute warm-up. As I wandered the belted highway I glanced out at the sea of machines. My trainer had texted me a collection of letters and numbers that I was to decipher into some sort of exercise routine.

Once my heart rate was up and my mind a little clearer I walked with confidence toward the bent and twisted steel with random pads and moving parts. Some looked familiar from a past life of gym false starts. Some looked fun. Some looked torturous. Many were mysterious.

Today is legs and shoulders. I pick the leg extension machine. It’s on my list. I adjust the seat and experiment with weights – my trainer is evidently trusting me to determine this minor detail as those numbers were not included in the hieroglyphics. I do 4 sets of 12. Feeling accomplished I saunter down the row looking for anything familiar. I spot the seated leg curl machine.

I sit down. I stand up. I adjust the seat. I play with the weights. I slide my legs over the seat, under the knee pad and reach for the padded roller that my Achilles tendon is to rest on, with the heel of my right foot. The knee pad is blocking my progress. I twist a little in the seat to see if I can angle one foot up to crank the pad down. I am kicking at it like I’m trying to dislodge it from under my couch.

The twist and lean is not working. I notice the gentlemen to my left has pulled something to lower the roller then effortlessly swung his ankles over the pad. I yank on levers that are not levers but solid bars meant for me to grip when I grunt with barred teeth as I push the roller down. Which may never happen. I look over at the weights. I grab the rubber thingy that acts a pulley to see if I can lift it enough to drop the roller.

My hand comes away with black grease all over it that I will likely wipe on my face before I exit this contraption. And the weights do not budge.

I am not meant to use this machine.

I walk around like I’m taking a break between sets. Just breathing. You know.

I spy a similar leg curl machine on which one lies belly down. I like the looks of it. I lower myself on the giant pad, kick my feet under the two rollers and reach for the hand grips. As I curl my fingers around the handles I slide forward losing contact with the foot pads, defeating the purpose. Clearly this machine is set up for [insert giant man-beast here]. I get up, adjust anything that will move and flop back down. Contact. I pull my heels toward my glutes for 2 sets. Done.

On to shoulder presses. I find the machine quickly, pick a weight and pump like a pro.

There are at least four more puzzles to be solved, but I have squandered my allotted half hour and walk back toward my comfort zone – the treadmill.

As I adjust the speed and incline randomly to the encouragement of Lady Gaga and the Black Eyed Peas, I glance up at the televisions accidentally catching the image of the ISIS/ISIL executioner with his weapon of death held aloft while looking down at the young reporter he will kill. My body begins to shake. I am punched in the heart. I cannot look away quickly enough.

On the adjacent screen is some vapid reality show on the fascinating, tumultuous lives of women wrestlers.

I am struck by the reality dichotomy in which we live. For a moment I am dismayed to the point of abandoning this ridiculousness. Why bother? What is the point?

Then I remember, I must first lift the veil and scrub my energy clean so that I can reveal my own inner light. So I can be part of the solution. Defeat is not an option. I must do this.

With a renewed resolve I turn up the volume on my trusty iPod and plug into my body. I become present with every movement, every sensation. I feel my heart rate rise and fall as I adjust the incline. I slow my breathing down as I speed up my pace, experimenting with my own capacity.

I am a soldier for peace. I am a warrior of light. That is the cause for which I am working.

 

21 Day Challenge – Day 2 – Yoga a go go

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12 Daman IMG_2734

There is nothing quite like yoga to tell you what’s going on in your body. Even the gentlest class can reveal secret tight places and hidden tension.

Today I did a level I/II hatha class, it’s one of my favorites. The postures are familiar but not always easy and the pace is just right for my attention span.

However doing side plank the day after working out the back and arms – or back and bi’s as us gym rats call it – may not be so wise.  My arms felt like paint inside the mixer-upper thing at Home Depot. I found a muscle I didn’t know existed and still can’t seem to locate on any diagram. I believe it is an unchartered area of my tricep. It’s unhappy with its newly awakened state.

Although I own a yoga studio, have taught for over five years and have practiced longer than that, yoga and I still have some stuff to work out. I am in love with the philosophy and could talk spirituality all day, but the asana portion, the postures, they challenge me on so many levels.

There are eight limbs in yoga, only one of them, the third one, is about postures. The rest include a code of conduct in how to be in the world, breathwork, and a few on various forms of meditation. They are all necessary. Even the postures.

It’s not that they’re too difficult, although there are many I cannot do, it’s the pace, the holding. I like to move. I love to dance. I like to walk and swim and ride bikes. Standing still with my arms extended and one knee deeply bent for a few breaths has my mind wandering, chattering, disagreeing with the whole notion that this is necessary.

And it’s that reason alone, that it is. I have to become at peace with where I am. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Yoga does that. I can curse the teacher for making me hold a posture, making up stories about how it’s wrong, this particular posture should never be held this long, someone’s going to hurt themselves, and what’s with the breathing? Stop reminding me to breathe.

And then we’re done.

I am standing still, lost in sensation in my body, swimming blissfully in the energy just released from holding that godforsaken posture.

I am open, my mind is quiet (temporarily, but still) and I am at ease. Yoga is stilling the fluctuations of the mind. It is quieting the mental chatter by giving the body a little tension – in the best possible way – and moving the thoughts out of the head into the muscles, then out all together.

It just works.

Even though I know this, even though I will be back the next day or two, or on my mat at home, I will suffer the same process.

And in the end I will be grateful for it. Again and again.

[Photo credit: Allison L. Andersen. Taken in Daman, India. She’s facing the Arabian Sea as she does her variation of saluting the sun.]