Things My Grandmother Taught Me: Look Them In The Eye

“For God’s sake, Annie, stand up straight. Never look down at the ground.” It was Sunday and we were just leaving Mass. I was hunched over as usual…my shoulders rounded forward. (From my education in yoga I now know that people take this posture in order to protect their heart from any pain. These people live in fear and close themselves off from love.) For many reasons, I was hiding from the world….folding myself in half so no one would notice me. This was unacceptable to Anne.

Anne walked perfectly straight, shoulders back…her heart available to anyone who might need it. She did not walk in fear. After all, what was there really to be afraid of? She had looked so many situations dead in the eye. She was powerful this way…with just one look.

Anne never walked folded in half by fear. She did not bend to an abusive father…he had met his match in her. Instead, she straightened up and protected her brothers and sisters from him, hiding them in her room when he came home from the mines. She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. I wonder what he saw there. My guess is power. Toxic people can smell weakness in others. Then they prey on them, like a hawk diving to the earth for a mouse. Anne’s father could not sense weakness in her. He could not prey on her. I suppose that’s why he never had any real use for her. And that was fine with her.

Anne knew about heart-break. She  lost a sister at a very  young age (Philomena), she would also lose two children, later. She went four years without seeing my grandfather’s face because he was in Europe fighting in the war. And though they loved each other madly until the very end,  she admitted he was never quite the same when he returned home to her. And yet, in every picture I have of her she is smiling…not  a bashful, timid smile, but a brazen “just dare me to look away” smile.

Looking someone in the eye, especially during a difficult time, might be the hardest thing to do. But it must be done. You must walk straight. You must square your shoulders and hold onto the ground beneath you like it is prime real estate and it is in your name. This is what Anne taught me: Look them in the eye and they cannot ignore you. Look someone in the eye and you are a force of nature. Look someone in the eye and most of the time, that is all you will need to do to be heard.

This is the sad truth about your life: most people you meet throughout it, will try to take advantage of you somehow…try to invade your space and breach your boundaries. Don’t bow your head and eyes to the ground. Don’t submit. Once you begin the process of giving up, it will never stop. Do what Anne did. Look into someone’s eyes and dare them to make you look away. You will always win.

So, What Does Your Husband Do?

I can’t count how many times I’ve been asked this question. Nor can I count how many issues I have with it. For now, I’ll just give you three.

First: I never even notice I sly glance from the questioner to my hand to see if I’m even wearing a ring. So this means the question is an assumption. What if I’m not married and I’m really a single mom? Or what if the ring I am wearing is a family heirloom? How about I’m really a lesbian and don’t have a man in my life at all? (All not true, but can’t possibly be known by a person I’ve just met.) I hate assumptions. Especially ones that don’t revolve around me.

Second: I cannot possibly explain to you what it is my husband does in accurate terms. I have tried and before I’m  halfway through it, eyes start to wander and scan the rest of the room. I can imagine that they are trying to figure out a way to “get out of this one.” So save yourself the trouble and don’t bother asking.

Third: What about me? How about we try asking a female with kids what it is THEY do instead of always referring to the husband? This is where I become mildly insulted. Do I have an aura about me that gives off the vibe of slacker stay at home mom-part time yoga instructor? You’re speaking to me…addressing me…so let the inquiries be about me. And who knows? Maybe we’ll end up somewhere over coffee and then you can ask me what it is my husband does.

Club Kripalu

I’m trying to think of a way to sum up my experience at Kripalu with Shiva Rea in less than ten pages and without sounding like a devotee to some new age cult….which Kripalu isn’t. But it seems as though my fifth chakra is completely blocked upon returning home…surprise, surprise.

To put it short and sweetly, I survived 45 hours of Chakra Vinyasa (flow) Training over 5 days. Somewhere in there insert almost 108 prostration push ups,( I say “almost” because I lost count somewhere around 82.) and a wild time yoga trance dancing in the dark on the last night. Turns out, my second chakra isn’t as frozen as I thought it was…once you get me out of my usual environment. 

And a few words on Shiva: Hilarious, Genuine, Loving, and a talented surfer & DJ. If I wasn’t walking the path of a yoga student/instructor, I’d be jealous.

I Bought Sneakers.

Here’s a very little known fact about yours truly…in my secret, spare time, (which is limited) I’m a runner….in love with running, as a matter of fact…the whole meditative factor, you see.

My love/hate, on and off relationship with running began around the same time my nervous breakdown did…at 19, also the time I began dating yoga and meditation on the side.  Oh, Jung would eat me up like a tiny delicate finger sandwhich. 

Jung: (with plume of smoke circling his glass-framed face) you see, anne, I don’t zink it’s the fact that you ARE running at all. I don’t zink it has anything to do with maintaining your already perfect figure (thanks, man). What I see as zee the question is: what (dramatic pause) or who….are you running from? (then does a line of coke and offers me the straw)

Me: (shaking head at straw) No thanks, I already ate. Listen, you’re not impressing me one bit with all this super cool psychoanalytical crap. So you can forget about trying to get into my pants and tell me like it is.

You’ll never see me in the gym on a treadmill. You’ll never see me running in the morning or afternoon. You might catch me at night….in the dark…if you keep your eyes peeled. Because I am just that fast. Because Jung was right. I don’t run to maintain my figure.

Arch Angel Gabriel, Pray for Me

Oh my. How could I forget to blog about therapy on Monday? Maybe because it’s getting less dramatic/melancholy.

That is to say, I’m feeling physically better with the new meds. So there’s nothing to really complain about there. I’m more awake. Which is a good and bad thing. 

Good: I have the energy and desire to interact with my kids and get daily things done like cooking for them and cleaning up their messes. 

Bad: I see more things wrong with my current situation than I was able to see before, and am stumped on how to deal with them. I suppose that comes in time. And things like these really have nothing to do with the meds. I have to actually think and devise a plan and make life altering decisions if necessary. All the things I LOVE to do.

I’m a Libra. We’re the worst decision makers in the zodiac. We weigh every aspect of every situation. The outcome has to be PERFECT. And the process takes forever. On the other side of our sign, we can be extremely impulsive…tired and exasperated by how long it takes us to make up our mind, and so we make bad decisions at the drop of a hat. I actually prefer the latter. It feels like I’m actually getting somewhere.

How did I get to the zodiac? (probably avoiding thinking about something else)

So, things I’m doing to clear my mind and improve my current “situation”:

Yoga-ing my ass off – to the point of melting down to 100lbs and missing my period like a gymnast.

Having drinks twice/thrice times a week at the most……(hmmmm)

Reiki…clearing my energy, getting rid of all the invisible negative shit weighing my mind and body down

Acupunture…hey, at this point, things are so bad, that yes, I will let a stranger poke tiny holes all over my body.

Being my creative self…to the dismay of many. This includes, more writing, drawing, dancing and singing with my kids, and tattoo-ing. 

Oh…and the most important thing: experiencing absolutely everything that scares the shit out of me. This is the only way, I’m convinced, I’ll find out who I really am. 

As for everyone else in my life….I can only help myself and wait for the ripples of reaction on their part. If some stick around, spectacular. If some don’t…they don’t. But just to be clear: I love you all, anyway.

In other news: I have no idea why…possibly because I’m crazy, but I’m seriously looking for jobs over in Switzerland. Anyone over there need a Translator or English as a Second Language teacher? I’m your gal.

Yogapalooza

I didn’t get involved with yoga to “grow spiritually”.  But that’s what happened. That being said: I DO NOT necessarily take a yoga class to work out my spiritual kinks. Sometimes..more times than not, I need to work out other kinks….emotional, physical…

Also, the spiritual growth I’m talking about is not bible thumping holy roller nonsense. I’m talking about a “one-ness” type feeling that can’t be described by any human being I know, let alone a yoga teacher, priest, rabbi… no one. This “thing” defies all attempts to label and categorize it.

So, basically, please don’t play the Jesus music during savasana.

I don’t want to hear about how god formed me in my mother’s womb and how I can rest my head on his (her) breast if I should so feel the need.  I think Jesus is great. God is terrific, too. But when an instructor plays music with a very specific subject matter, they are unknowingly (or in this case, I believe totally knowingly) dictating the stream of thought their students’ are experiencing when they should be relaxing, getting more in touch with what they themselves are feeling on a physical level, and what they may or may NOT be feeling on a spiritual level. A student’s growth in any direction should happen on that person’s own terms and on a very subtle, personal level.

If I was meant to think about god during my savasana tonight, it would have happened on it’s own and in it’s own way. Now I don’t know what the hell my savasana was supposed to be about, because it was hijacked.

The best part of all of this:

Instructor: Now, as we begin to relax, I’d like to play for you a little song that is so very close to my own heart…..

Me: (in my head) Where the fuck am I? A Neil Diamond concert?

As the song progresses:

Me : (in my head) Where the fuck am I? A pro-life rally?

Worst Savasana Ever.