Bully for you!

At the end of our yoga practice, sitting quietly on the mat with our hands in prayer position, we often lift our thumbs to touch our lips, a reminder that "our words matter."  I love this because yes, sometimes we do need a reminder.

As a writer, I have always been aware of the power of words.  As an educator, I am hopeful that the textual world we live in will make us all more cognizant of language and intention.  Yet, I know this will take time.  Living in a culture that prizes high-speed communication over slower, meditative response is arguably more conducive to spreading hurtful words with ill-conceived regard.

Intentions matter. Just as we say things we don't mean, the thoughts we convey in our emails, our text messages, our blogs, matter. Intentions can create heroes worthy of worship or bring nearly irreparable damage to otherwise steadfast relationships.

Words matter.  Language is our vehicle to communicate love, hate, joy, rage, envy and gratitude. There are so many opportunities for misinterpretation. Certainly we can throw in an emoticon or an "LOL" to define our intentions but the truth is, there is no guarantee of how our words will be received.

These things, harmful intentions and quick words, are the culprits of mindless communication.  They are what fuels bullying, not just in the schools with our children but in the work place with our colleagues and on the Internet with our contacts.  Yet the ever-so-bright side is that we have the power to re-set our intentions and to re-think our words.

Our words matter.  I love being reminded of that.  :)

My First 5k

I am not a runner.  Due to my lack of speed, endurance, and proper form, I have never considered myself a runner.   I have never really thought of myself as an athlete. As a kid, I was always chosen last for teams in P.E.. While most of the time this didn't bother me, once (just once!) couldn't I be second-to-last?

In September of 1993, on a glorious afternoon in Columbia, Missouri, I ran my first 5k. I didn't actually run the entire distance of the race (and I still don't).  Technically, I may not have "run" at all.  At one point, I started walking and every runner who passed by (which sort of felt like every remaining runner in the race) either told me I was doing a great job or encouraged me to keep going.  

Columbia is a college town and the race course wound through a neighborhood that butted up against the university campus. There were college kids sitting on their porches watching the runners.  I was still pretty self-conscious back then so I tried not to pay attention to the spectators.  But one bunch of guys had a boombox blaring the Rocky theme as all the runners passed. I couldn't help but laugh.  A testament that unsolicited support often comes when you need it most.

Finishing the race gave me a spectacular feeling of accomplishment.  Part of it was physical but the other part was finally realizing, at the age of 22, that I didn't have to wait to be picked for someone else's team.  I could motivate and inspire myself.  These days I love running 5ks, even if I don't run the entire course.  I always feel that I've checked off some grand goal each time I cross the finish line, that I have, in some way, given myself a wonderful gift.  Namaste :)

Eh, what good is money anyway?

I was supposed to teach a six-week class this summer but the course got canceled.  Initially I was pretty upset.  It wasn't a lot of money, but it was an income.  I couldn't really find another job for just six weeks (I had already committed to my training program at that point), so I accepted the fact that I would not be teaching and embraced the notion of having extra time this summer.

In the past 26 years, I have held at least 25 different jobs ranging from working for a professional show dog handler (where I acquired my love for Shih Tzus) to holding an Associate Dean position (where I acquired my distrust for for-profit education institutions). I had a 15(ish)-year stint as a nanny (such an amazing family) and teaching has been extremely rewarding.  I've also had some fun jobs working at an interior design studio, a real estate company, and a medical library.

There have been some less-than-desirable jobs, such as fry-cooking at McDonald's, commercial cleaning, and yes, that professional show dog gig.  Simply making a living can get in the way of what what we'd like to do or where we'd like to be.  Besides, more often than not, there is no short distance between reality and dreams.

I decided that I wanted to be a yoga instructor because I love yoga.  Yoga brings me joy and I'd like to have the opportunity to share that joy with others.  I essentially depleted what little savings I had to pay for my training.  While some may think that's a huge gamble, I don't see it that way.  As long as the intentions are honest and genuine, anything one can do to invest in one's happiness is worth the sacrifice.  

This particular Friday morning, however, I found my convictions to be less-than comforting.  I was really wishing I'd had a paycheck to deposit into my account.  Sometimes it's tough.  But then I thought about all the ways in which I am truly fortunate and I was able to, once again, feel gratitude.  I am excited about my training and look forward to a time when I can share my good fortune with others. Namaste, my friends.

Beauty and the Best

For a long time I was reluctant to tell people that I had been accepted into a yoga teacher training program. That's just me and my fear of failure (we do a number of things together...or we don't, it depends on which one of us happens to be calling the shots.).  You see, I tend to harbor good news as if it were a dangerous fugitive.  I worry that I may not succeed so in order to keep from disappointing people, I just don't tell them.  

I did tell a few people right away because I was pretty excited.  As I started attending more yoga classes and got to know the "regulars," I felt compelled to share my news with them as well.  But then I didn't want to be that annoying girl in class who is all like, "Look at me! I'm going to yoga teacher training!"  So I kept the news to myself.

Flowers and well-wishes from one of my lovely
yoga instructors :)

Eventually, I decided that sharing the news might be a good thing.  I started by telling some of my instructors then some of the wonderful people in my yoga classes.  The response has been overwhelming.  Everyone -- especially my instructors at Estudio -- has been so amazingly supportive and excited and just plain wonderful about my training.  Of course my friends have been top-notch; they always are.  And my family and Aaron have all been fantastic.  I feel so grateful and so very blessed.  Namaste, my friends, namaste.

Yoga: Version U.0

Once I started taking a wide variety of classes and trying out different instructors, I was exposed to many different poses, techniques, and teaching styles.  I liked the challenge but sometimes the pace of the classes made me feel completely inept.  Not to mention the poses.  Many poses that I had never tried before seemed impossible to get into, especially with only two arms and two legs.

I remember the first time I really tried to do eagle pose.  Initially, every pose seems totally easy and completely doable:  Stand with your legs together. Check. Put your arms out to a "T". Check.  Bring your right knee up. Done. Cross your right ankle over your left knee, slightly softening the left knee.  Okay... Wrap your right leg around your left leg once.  Now wrap it around again.  Now wrap it around again.  And one more time...  What?  Now flap your arms and fly away!  Fly far, far away!! 

Of course, that's not really how to do eagle pose but that was my panicky, John Hughes moment.  I could never (and still cannot) hook that right foot behind my left leg.  But that's okay.  I mean, it was okay after my initial mental freak out.  You see, it's not that I couldn't ever do it.  Just that I couldn't do it right then.  I remember glancing around the studio and seeing that only about half of the other students were able to hook that foot behind their leg.  Noticing how everyone was in a different place was a very metaphorical experience.

What I love about practicing yoga is that it is so personal.  Even when I'm in the studio.  I don't push myself to do more than I can do. Pushing myself like that simply creates mental and physical stress, which defeats the whole purpose of practicing yoga, right?  So I just be where I am most happy.  More often than not, that place will vary each time I come to the mat.  But it is always my place and my practice.  And coincidentally, that's what makes me most happy.  Namaste!

Where I have come from, where I am going...

I was born in Seoul, South Korea.  When I was six-months-old, I was adopted and spent the rest of my childhood and teenage years in a small town in rural central Missouri.  I think I was the only Asian child within a 100-mile radius of my home.  From as far back as I can remember I fielded questions such as “Where are you from?” or “Do you speak Chinese?” or even “Why didn’t your real parents want you?”  I knew that I was different but in my struggle to fit in and “be like everyone else,” I rarely acknowledged that difference.

Small-town dynamics are interesting.  To some, small towns offer a close-knit, everyone-knows-everyone community; to others, that same closeness operates as a judgmental eye continually cast upon individuals within that community; and still to others, it is both.  So growing up, I had endless ambitions but limited confidence.

Self-criticism is a difficult thing to escape and pure self-acceptance is even harder to achieve.  Or at least sometimes it feels that way.  But eventually we learn that the self-criticism – the self- judgment we feel – is simply a barrier to self-acceptance.  It took me many years to learn that.  I had to learn to believe in myself and to trust myself.  I had to find things about myself that I, alone, genuinely liked; and I had to be okay with genuinely liking something about myself.   I had to learn to not be jealous of what others had but to be grateful for the things that I already possessed, none of which were worldly.  So I did learn each of these lessons at various stages in my life.  It took nearly thirty years but, with the help of some unlikely coaches and good friends, I had finally achieved self-acceptance.   While I underwent a tremendous amount of personal growth during graduate school, I honestly believe that because I experienced subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) prejudices growing up in a small town, it became second nature for me to look beyond other people’s appearances and try to truly connect with the person inside.

I was living in Columbia, Missouri when I signed up for my Beginner's Yoga class.  I walked into Alley Cat Yoga Studio in September of 2005 and immediately experienced a peace that, to this day, is difficult to describe.  The owner, Ken McRae, introduced himself to me, talked a little bit about yoga, and signed me up for the class.  While the entire process could not have taken more than twenty-minutes, it seemed as though a radiant spark had ignited within me.  I felt joy.

Although I didn’t have a consistent practice during graduate school, I was always able to experience that same inner peace and radiant joy whenever I returned to the mat.  It seems like such a natural state and yet, for years, I was hardly even aware it existed.  But once I realized it was there?  Not only did I want to harness it for myself, I wanted to share it with others.  It is that powerful.

When I moved to New York in June 2009, I returned to yoga after three years of graduate school.  This time I wanted yoga to have a larger presence in my life.  I found a hot yoga studio that I love (EStudio in Latham) and began to practice there as often as I could.  Now, as I begin the journey to (and through) my 200-hour Yoga Teacher Training program at Kripalu, I invite you to join me.

namaste,

angel