Drishti

We've been doing a lot of warrior 3 in my yoga classes recently. A lot of tree, and a lot of eagle. Poses that emphasize balance (like these) require a focal point, strong concentration, deep breaths, and the ability to relax despite trembling limbs. I love them- you dig into your core, and embrace the wobbles. I've learned to pick a point on which to affix my gaze - in yoga, this is called a drishti. It can be anything- a piece of lint, a ceiling tile. On Saturday, a tall dude raised his hands into tree and blocked my drishti. I found another one. Last week, I was in a mixed-level class, and sooo tempted to check out my fellow yogis' skills. But if you look around, you lose focus and fall. It's a balance of staring intently at this one central point, and not feeling so tied to it that you can't do the pose without it.

I find metaphors for faith in almost every physical activity or expression. In dancing, I'm reminded of the tension between trusting someone completely or falling flat. There still aren't a lot of dudes that I trust completely as a dance partner. When I'm out running the trails, I connect the perseverance and the steadiness to Jesus' faithfulness, the race toward heaven. Throughout my life, the drishti I need is Christ and no one else. If I look anywhere else, I wobble and fall. Even the beautiful practice of another will distract me.

Another aspect of the drishti is intangible - where your mind and heart focus during practice.  It has been a challenge for me to figure out what exactly to think about during yoga - peacefulness, acceptance of my practice, maybe non-judgment or beauty.  The last few weeks, I've been so, so happy to get back to practice (after 6 months of a sprained ankle), intention has been really important.  It's hard to explain, but through the intention of finding peace, I've learned about several other attributes like beauty, perseverance, and trust.  Then in the moments of savasana (the last pose in class), returning to my intention for a moment, I've been given scripture to consider.  I don't have a deep explanation for this - only that God has given me his word in moments of need.  It's made me want to memorize so much more scripture!

But back to the drishti:  It finally struck me that the best places to focus are attributes that please God.  (Please don't ask me why it took me this long to figure out - I think I needed God to show me this, not a person)  So, in the past week I've focused on the fruits of the Spirit: Love, Joy, Peace, and Patience.  Coming soon to my practice are: Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness and Self-control.  I'm hoping to go through the Bible to find other qualities and concepts to focus on.

I don't have any grand illusions that this will suddenly change my life.  In fact, yesterday, I completely forgot about my intention of joy, and tried to muscle my way through the class.  Not a good idea.  However, I do love the ability to focus on qualities that are spiritually and physically important to the Lord.  Love isn't just an emotion - it's a way to treat your body, when you can't accomplish a pose.  Patience is more than an ability to wait meekly, it's a perseverance through hard times.  I'm loving these new drishti, and can't wait to see where the next steps of this journey take
me.

Eating slowly

I'm sitting in my office, thinking about Jordan.  Remembering how much power I had over there (relatively speaking), and how different my life was, and how much happier I am now.  And somehow, my mind drifted toward lunchtime.  Ok, that's not so surprising, but bear with me.  In Jordan, I was in charge of this clandestine food drop-off operation, a staff of 12, and loads of U.S. taxpayer money.  But somehow, I could never get lunch to be delivered to me in a timely manner.  Either there is no system for to-go lunching in Jordan, or traffic would delay it so long, that I'd be on the verge of a hypoglycemic meltdown before the food would arrive.  There's not a category in Jordan for 'fast food,' unless it's shwarmas, for which you have to go to a little roadside stand.  There is nothing in between a full, heavy meal and a kebab wrapped in newspaper.  Why?  I think the Jordanians view food as an event, as more than just a means to an end (which for me was always to end the tummy rumbles that would interrupt my meetings).

Uganda was similar - we would wait hours for dinner.  Some days, I would choose between food and a good night's sleep.  In lieu of this response, "No, madam, today the eggs are not there," wait staff would prefer to go to the market, purchase a chicken, wait for it to lay an egg, and then cook it for you.  You think I'm joking.

Surprisingly, in South Sudan, you could get food a little bit more quickly.  I think that's because the culture of Juba had been overtaken by the expatriate world, and vendors knew that their profits lay in fast service.  The food made my friends and me sick more often than not, so I guess they needed to work on that aspect of service.

In Spain, my roommates and I still remember the hunger pains before and after those giant midday meals.  From one extreme of hunger to the other extreme of gluttony, that food was never easy to come by.  We had one late-night snacking spree in our kitchen, which resulted in a major scolding from our mama.  Food was available at mealtimes only, no mas!

Is America the only country where even sit-down restaurants are fast food?  In Greece, it is considered the height of rudeness to bring a patron their check before they request it.  Similarly in Uganda, if the waitress brings the bill before you clap your hands, it's considered rude.  I loved that approach to time management and the lack of 'busing' tables - we more than just eaters, we were guests.  I flip-flop between appreciating speedy American service (this comes naturally to me) and loving the indulgence of a long meal.  Letting the world go by, taking each moment in, even taking my time over courses - these are all elements of patience that I'm learning.

Yoga

I was thinking last night about yoga, and the adventures that I have gone on through this practice.  I've done yoga on 3 continents, and yet the farthest journey has been within myself.  Maybe I should start with the physical manifestations of how yoga has changed my life - although yoga is so integrated, it's almost impossible to separate the physical from the mental from the spiritual.

I grew up in a family of athletes - although there is some internal debate about whether trying really hard is worthy of the word 'athlete.'  All my brothers played football, basketball, swam, ran, and did a variety of other sports.  For as long as I can remember, my parents were at the gym every single morning at 6 a.m.  My aunt was state champion in tennis, played lacrosse, did gymnastics, and, in her mid-60s, still lives an incredibly active lifestyle.  Dedicated athletes.  Trying to keep up, I swam and ran cross country.  I was pretty darn slow, but I loved the runner's high, the camaraderie, and the ability to be out on the trails.  So I've always had pretty strong legs, but have never been particularly muscular.  I started practicing yoga (seriously) in January of 2012 - I had found a groupon for a studio 2 blocks from my house.  A few months later, I noticed something remarkable:  My abs.  My arms.  My back.  There were muscles in places I didn't even know muscles could be!  While I was busy ohm'ing, yoga was building a new me.

But even better than that, in yoga we learn to be grateful to our bodies for what they give us each day, each practice.  Instead of straining to reach a certain level, to build muscle, to compete - we ask our bodies to accomplish a pose.  Sometimes my body says yes to these poses, and sometimes it says no, and I have to back off.  This experience of asking and listening is new to me - and it can be tough (remember, the family of athletes) - but there's a mental strength which is building.  In yoga, we practice mindfulness - staying present in the moment, focus on breath, intentionality, meditation.  It's so much harder than it sounds.  In D.C., a place free of competition is particularly rare; I love it.

In 2012, I experienced deep personal tragedy while working in one of the most remote countries on the planet.  Yoga was the only place where I could let go of the deep sense of sadness, the despair and chaos I felt.  Some days, I would lay in savasana (the final resting pose) and just cry.  In a world where I had to be on all the time, in a place where I felt no peace - in yoga I found a moment of joy.

As I look back on this journey, I can see tiny ways that it has changed my outlook on the world.  My new sense of patience, my new ability to embrace each day anew, my new gratitude for those instants of peace.  I'm not a great yogi.  After 2 years of practice, I still can't do a full headstand.  My form needs improvement.  I dream of poses like 'Bird of Paradise.'  But those things are secondary to the great comfort and joy that yoga has brought me.  This past Christmas, my mom and younger brother and I all did a yoga session in our kitchen.  I've made new friends, and learned new things about old friends as we practice together.  I've learned about myself and about the world.  This is one adventure that has no end in sight, and for that I am grateful.