Shortly after the completion of my 30 day challenge, Brett and I embarked on a new challenge together: 30 days of Vegetarian Living. Since I have a proclivity for following a diet low in animal protein anyway I did not think this would be much of a feat for me. With Brett, I was not so sure considering he does tend to enjoy steak a fair bit.
We are now on the 25th day and I am realizing that for the past two months I have treated myself as a human test tube. I went from a stringent yoga regimen to maintaining an extremely high level of activity but removing “the souls of deceased animals” from my diet. As I mentioned, I don’t eat much meat at all—but upon removing it completely I came to realize that chicken and fish prove to be quiet a necessary part of my diet and help facilitate my lifestyle and energy level.
I’m not political about vegetarianism at all, but I do subscribe to a belief that local sustainability and free range farming is important. Being the over-thinker that I am, I don’t condone large scale farming and think it can be inhumane, of dubious quality as well as unhealthy.
In an ideal world, I would be an herbivore. Of this, I am certain. Throughout Brett and my challenge I’ve had the opportunity to experience a whole pantheon of foods I’ve never eaten with any amount of regularity. Suddenly, my diet became rife with quinoa, kale, spelt, seitan and tempeh to name a few. The trouble I find is that to adequately devote oneself to this lifestyle, one must dedicate an extraordinary amount of time to educating themselves on alternative protein sources as well as have the drive to be creative in the kitchen.
I’ve had the good fortune of wandering over to PCC (a posh, marginally over-priced Seattle area co-op) during my lunch hour and loading up on the ultra-healthy goodies from their expansive deli but dinner isn’t quite as easy. After a long work day and 90 minutes of yoga, time is money (so to speak). We haven’t had the chance to study the vegan and vegetarian cookbooks I’ve procured over my formative years of being a macrobiote and vegan, so we stick to what we know: pasta dishes, stir-fry, veggie burgers, beans and rice, soups and salads. This is fine and dandy, but after having hit up some really cool vegetarian restaurants in the Seattle area over the past few weeks—I just wish there were more hours in the day.
I’m learning that everything we do in life is a challenge of sorts. I’ve told Brett that I would like this to be the year of “30 day challenges” because once you devote yourself so wholeheartedly to something for a month it gets you to thinking. I’ve become keenly aware not only of my strengths, but of my weaknesses as well. I feel like I’m building character, if only the slightest bit. I am continually forced to evaluate closely what’s important to me and what I can let slide. Ultimately, balance again comes to mind. And achieving that just might be the greatest challenge of all.
3.25.2010
3.15.2010
Too much of a good thing...
To say that I lost my direction post-challenge would be an understatement. I sank into a mild depression—losing my focus and questioning my purpose. I couldn’t understand what had happened…I initially wouldn’t have thought that endeavoring to do something so good for me would have such a severe impact once I had finished.
There is definitely something to be said for a purpose driven life and I began to question exactly what that meant to me once I had completed my stringent 30 days of Bikram yoga. No matter whether I had been festooned with exhaustion or ready and rearing for my practice—I knew what had to be done. Every day I nourished and hydrated myself in preparation for the evening. Every morning I diligently recounted my experience through prose and illustration. Once that was over, I wasn’t sure what to do. I continued going to practice, but my life wasn’t the same. I deflated.
Even documentation of my shenanigans (of which there were plenty) seemed trivial and banal so I began to question whether I had achieved enlightenment or if I were just plain burned out. As I discovered last week, it was simply a matter of being exhausted beyond all comprehension. My yoga classes became arduous and though I came to recognize that not every day would hold a strong practice, each day my strength continued to wane until I thought perhaps the jig was up.
Being of firm resolve and ridiculous perseverance, I would not relent and therefore continued my daily routine and added some socializing into the mix. No longer was I serene and yogi but rather exhausted, maladjusted and irritated by the most minor of trivialities. Something had to give… so on Wednesday of last week I took a much needed mental health day in an effort to relax. I hoped to cease lambasting myself for not being stringent and fettered with activity every waking moment. Instead, I wanted to allow myself to enjoy the decompressing that ensued. To be honest, at first I had grandiose illusions of popping over to a neighborhood French bakery, cleaning the house, going to the market and running but my body had other plans in store. After 20 minutes of reading after breakfast, I drifted gently off to sleep for four glorious hours.
I slowly acquiesced to my body’s needs and realized what my new purpose must be: to strive for balance. I understand that I can’t always be all things to all people and that at some point after stuffing my social calendar to the gills I’m going to burst. Yes, I understand this clearly. But what I need to be able to do is accept and know that it’s okay to take some time for myself as well—to rest, to rejuvenate. Sometimes it would seem that my purpose would be to just simply to be.
There is definitely something to be said for a purpose driven life and I began to question exactly what that meant to me once I had completed my stringent 30 days of Bikram yoga. No matter whether I had been festooned with exhaustion or ready and rearing for my practice—I knew what had to be done. Every day I nourished and hydrated myself in preparation for the evening. Every morning I diligently recounted my experience through prose and illustration. Once that was over, I wasn’t sure what to do. I continued going to practice, but my life wasn’t the same. I deflated.
Even documentation of my shenanigans (of which there were plenty) seemed trivial and banal so I began to question whether I had achieved enlightenment or if I were just plain burned out. As I discovered last week, it was simply a matter of being exhausted beyond all comprehension. My yoga classes became arduous and though I came to recognize that not every day would hold a strong practice, each day my strength continued to wane until I thought perhaps the jig was up.
Being of firm resolve and ridiculous perseverance, I would not relent and therefore continued my daily routine and added some socializing into the mix. No longer was I serene and yogi but rather exhausted, maladjusted and irritated by the most minor of trivialities. Something had to give… so on Wednesday of last week I took a much needed mental health day in an effort to relax. I hoped to cease lambasting myself for not being stringent and fettered with activity every waking moment. Instead, I wanted to allow myself to enjoy the decompressing that ensued. To be honest, at first I had grandiose illusions of popping over to a neighborhood French bakery, cleaning the house, going to the market and running but my body had other plans in store. After 20 minutes of reading after breakfast, I drifted gently off to sleep for four glorious hours.
I slowly acquiesced to my body’s needs and realized what my new purpose must be: to strive for balance. I understand that I can’t always be all things to all people and that at some point after stuffing my social calendar to the gills I’m going to burst. Yes, I understand this clearly. But what I need to be able to do is accept and know that it’s okay to take some time for myself as well—to rest, to rejuvenate. Sometimes it would seem that my purpose would be to just simply to be.
3.03.2010
30 Day Challenge! I'm a star!
The Final Day- February 25th, 2009
I collapsed in tears after finally having made it to my car. I just wasn’t sure what to think or feel once it was over, but there it was: Mission Accomplished. The biggest box of them all was finally ticked off and time kept marching on.
I was an emotionally drained train wreck because class wasn’t what I had expected it to be on my final day—not that I should have expected fireworks to shoot out my bum or a lotus blossom to lift me up into the sky….as a matter of fact, I know I shouldn’t have expected anything. This was a challenge I set out to do upon my own volition for no other reason than to prove I could do it and see what happened as a result.
Every day was a new test, intercalary to the greater 30 day challenge to which I had subjected myself. Every day—a little lesson learned.
The most popular question that I have fielded throughout this experience is “So how do you feel?” Depending upon the day, my answer would change. The common current throughout has always been that I feel more centered, focused, calm and content. On some days my responses would be laced with annoyance, on others, exhaustion; but I always sensed that I was doing something “Good” even though I wasn’t always able to pinpoint exactly what or why that was.
There were a few days nearing the end of my challenge that seemed to be imbued with a severe case of senioritis, while on other days I would faithfully hold vigil to the quietly flickering candle of my energy and perseverance—lest they burn out. As a result of this, perhaps one of the greatest lessons I have come to appreciate is that every day is different and I should never hold any expectations about what it may or may not be. I must simply accept that fact and be grateful that I have the opportunity to experience what may come.
This is my journey. More so than anything else, I have learned to be humble both on my yoga mat and in life. Almost every day I fondly regard a proverb that hangs in my studio’s lobby: “Be humble, for you are made of dung. Be noble, for you are made of stars.” I am a tiny bleating constellation in a seemingly endless galaxy of stars. All I can do is put every ounce of myself into the universe and hope that I receive a little bit in return.
I collapsed in tears after finally having made it to my car. I just wasn’t sure what to think or feel once it was over, but there it was: Mission Accomplished. The biggest box of them all was finally ticked off and time kept marching on.
I was an emotionally drained train wreck because class wasn’t what I had expected it to be on my final day—not that I should have expected fireworks to shoot out my bum or a lotus blossom to lift me up into the sky….as a matter of fact, I know I shouldn’t have expected anything. This was a challenge I set out to do upon my own volition for no other reason than to prove I could do it and see what happened as a result.
Every day was a new test, intercalary to the greater 30 day challenge to which I had subjected myself. Every day—a little lesson learned.
The most popular question that I have fielded throughout this experience is “So how do you feel?” Depending upon the day, my answer would change. The common current throughout has always been that I feel more centered, focused, calm and content. On some days my responses would be laced with annoyance, on others, exhaustion; but I always sensed that I was doing something “Good” even though I wasn’t always able to pinpoint exactly what or why that was.
There were a few days nearing the end of my challenge that seemed to be imbued with a severe case of senioritis, while on other days I would faithfully hold vigil to the quietly flickering candle of my energy and perseverance—lest they burn out. As a result of this, perhaps one of the greatest lessons I have come to appreciate is that every day is different and I should never hold any expectations about what it may or may not be. I must simply accept that fact and be grateful that I have the opportunity to experience what may come.
This is my journey. More so than anything else, I have learned to be humble both on my yoga mat and in life. Almost every day I fondly regard a proverb that hangs in my studio’s lobby: “Be humble, for you are made of dung. Be noble, for you are made of stars.” I am a tiny bleating constellation in a seemingly endless galaxy of stars. All I can do is put every ounce of myself into the universe and hope that I receive a little bit in return.
3.01.2010
30 Day Challenge- The final day
Stay tuned for a recapitulation of Thursday, February 25th....I know not yet whether it will be insightful, poetic, or a simple blow by blow.
In the mean time...please enjoy a photo of me and Quatchi- my dado's celebratory gift for having completed the challenge.
In the mean time...please enjoy a photo of me and Quatchi- my dado's celebratory gift for having completed the challenge.
I made it!
2.25.2010
30 Day Challenge! A few firsts....
Day 29- February 24thAt this point, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that I continue to experience a litany of “firsts” as I wend my way through this challenge. My sage dado always told me that I should notice or experience at least three new things per day, and on my 29th day I most certainly did.
Shortly after 3pm, my friend and instructor Jenn invited me to accompany her and a few of her co-workers to the 4:30 Bikram class in Redmond (a studio to which I’ve never been.) I immediately started making excuses for myself: I have no mat, no towel, no gear….but then I thought, “Why not?!” This is exactly the sort of thing I need to enliven my challenge. Truth be told, as much as I love Penni (a battle axe in a tiny little vixen’s body); I was in desperate need of a change.
I bolted from work ten minutes early and began my trek around Lake Sammamish with only my handbag and trusty Igloo water bottle (filled with ice from the dining hall) in tow. Upon arriving, I delighted in the natural light flooding this new studio which was at once classic and modern. A single rack stood humbly at the front window with a handful of designer duds, from which I chose a sports bra and hot shorts. This is worth mentioning because I have never, in my entire yogi career, bared my midsection during practice. I was nervous to do so but knew I had no choice.
Having acquainted myself with Glenn, who was to be my instructor that evening, I headed into the room to the space that Jenn had saved for me. En route, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the front mirror and considered for a moment. You know, I actually look pretty good. Jenn leaned over and nudged me to let me know that she instructed Glenn to give me an especially hard time.
The room was hot. Yes, this is hot yoga, but the room was BOILING. And arid. I’m accustomed to the humidity in my beloved Fremont studio so I immediately noticed a difference. Sunlight flooded into the space and during half moon pose, I bent toward a ray of light poking into the room as though I were a flower thirsty for the light. My postures were fluid and strong but my mind began to wobble as it attempted to balance on the precipice of Hades.
I started to panic. Glenn calmly intoned that if we aren’t at our edge, we are taking up too much space. “Oh, don’t worry” I thought to myself, “I’m at risk of tipping over into the depths of hell at any given moment...” At one point I reached for my water for a brief reprieve from the intensity but had barely even picked it up off the ground before Glenn told me I didn’t need it—leave it be. This was new for me. Not only was he guiding me through the practice, but he was keenly aware of my mental weaknesses and was quashing them at any opportunity.
Before the floor series began, Glenn cracked the door open, which was unfortunately on the far side of the room. I waited patiently for a gentle waft of cool air to roll over my body. When it finally arrived, I was near tears at the brevity of it and tried to ensconce myself in Glenn’s calm guidance: “The human attention span is only 52 minutes so your mind is probably beginning to wander.” He could not have been more right…Nevertheless, I battened down and instead focused on his recommendation that we breathe as though we had gills along the sides of our bodies.
Somehow I managed to endure the entire 90 minutes—even though at one point Glenn took my water away from me. I don’t need it, he insisted. This was practice in a way I had never experienced before. It was regimented and ridiculously hot with little reprieve. During one of the very last postures, I was wilting. I sank to my knees but felt Jenn staring directly at me. She shot me a look that intimated "Upsy Daisy Butter Cup," and I knew I had to power through. It's one thing to hold yourself accountable, but it's quite another when you have a friend there to goad you on. On day 29, I’m not sure I could have done it without her.
2.24.2010
30 Day Challenge! 28 Days Later
Day 28- February 23rdSlowly and ever so subtly, I began to unravel. I grasped steadily at the string with my sweat-soaked fingers in an attempt to salvage the formidable yarn I’ve formed over the past four weeks. But there it was: The sweet siren song of savasana sang to me in dulceted tones and I sank…gently succumbing to the warm swath of her arms.
The tightly wound ball of fibers I’ve been knitting so studiously slowly deteriorated on the 28th day and it took every fabric of my being to keep this from happening. My practice is a blanket, it would seem: An ornate quilt which I am gradually stitching, quietly crafting, relentlessly refining. I delight in its flourish and intricacies on some days—but on others, struggle with its design. Today, I dropped a stitch. I turned my back on the project and set my knitting needles down for a moment wondering what I had gotten myself into.
Ultimately, as always, I persevered—my tenacity reaching new heights. I simply picked up where I’d left off and made the best of what I had to work with, delicately weaving in little accoutrements where I could—leaving lavish undertakings for another time.
And this is what I love about yoga. As Saiko always says: it’s a journey…this is a project to be undertaken throughout the course of my lifetime.
2.23.2010
30 Day Challenge! So Not Yogi
Day 27- February 22nd
Upon arriving to the studio I placed my mat next to one of my burgeoning yoga buddies Kent and began trumpeting my belief that I’d finally transcended the heat (which I was soon to discover was most definitely not the case.) Mid-sentence, I noticed that my mat was also kitty corner behind Kevin, and Kevin happens to be the studio owner.
I’ve always been a showboat….this can’t be helped. It seems my life’s purpose is to please others, impress them and make them smile. Kevin knows my volition to attend teacher training so I felt obligated to give it my one million per cent. Not to mention the fact that I wanted to impress Kent as well. I can’t help it…I fully recognize that my attention-seeking and pride are not at all in the spirit of a yogi. Though, at least I recognize this fact. Self-awareness is key to reaching the path of discovery and understanding…..or something like that, I think.
My breathing flourished and I felt the promise of a good class at bay. In the half moon posture I pushed my hips far to the left and reached up and over to the right so that I formed a lovely rounded 90* angle. My body glided effortlessly and I serenely focused on myself in the mirror even though I was pushing my body to the utmost maximum of each posture it could achieve.
Then something changed: the air became thick and laden with volcanic heat. I thrust into the triangle posture, deepening my squat so that my thigh, calf and shin felt as though they were being dipped into a vat of molten lava. I winced briefly and considered collapsing onto my mat, simply surrendering to the practice. Instead I buckled down and shifted my attention: breathe….just breathe. I bounced up and transitioned to the other side but felt wobbly. The volcano was rumbling and I wasn’t sure I would persevere. It took every ounce of tenacity and strength I’ve built over the past 27 days to not buckle and relent.
To make matters worse, I was stricken with pangs of hunger that were all but hooting for attention from the depths of my stomach. I felt hollow, ravenous and downright weak. “This is what you get for trying to be a showoff” I chided myself. Needless to say, class wasn’t what I expected. Just as I’ve learned over the course of the past month that things rarely are what you expect them to be. I can only observe, learn, and hopefully grow.
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