Tag: mind-body health care

Light Passing ThroughOctober 6th, 2011

“You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”

This is Steve Jobs, of course.

During meditation, if we’re fortunate, we experience a kind of life-altering nakedness that permanently affects our perspective about what we are and what we are not.

What it feels like to me is the dissolving of my body. By the end of morning practice, my understanding is that I’m a body of energy that happens to be passing through this less significant physical body.

It’s a feeling that stays through the day. On a good day, I see everyone around me as the same kind of energy, and we feel like family.

One of the best consequences of this shift in perspective is that it makes me brave. When I know myself to be light passing through this day, I lose my fear of failure (light can’t fail), of humiliation, and of rejection. I lose my small-minded need for security.

I follow my heart more easily.

I don’t know whether Steve Jobs meditated. This is important, because meditation itself is not the point, any more than my physical practice of yoga is the point.

Freedom is the point. Waking up and discovering who we are is the point. Recognizing that we’re part of all that is, is the point. Living bravely from that perspective is the point.

It just happens that meditation and practice on the mat are excellent signposts saying, ‘Hey! You beautiful smacking whack of radiant light, you! Look this way! Here you are!”

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks to Steve Jobs for the reminder that we are light passing through.

Thanks to you, always, for the conversation,

kristin


Tags: , , , , , ,

Posted in blog | 14 Comments »

Truth is an Inside JobAugust 18th, 2011

The other day I mentioned that meditation is a fantastic way of detaching from the opinions (often called truths) of those around us: family, church, work, media, health care, and peers.

At a family reunion on the weekend, I saw my oldest brother for the first time in years. He escaped the “opinions” of his parents by moving across the country thirty years ago. We laugh at that, but it’s true.

In the church I grew up in, we were born sinners.

In my sister’s workplace, you’re not really working unless you answer email until 11pm. You’re not really working unless you’re overworking.

The media tells me that loving self-esteem at my age means injecting my forehead, whitening my teeth and hoovering the fat from my thighs and rear end.

Easy enough to laugh at these provided you aren’t buying any of the above.

But many, many people are.

And lots of us buy milder versions: we colour our hair, we donate to causes we don’t believe in because we’re afraid the cashier will think we’re shmucks, we pour attention into ridiculous things – grammar, hyper-antibiotic cleanliness, the car, the labels on my clothes, what our spouses say and do in public, the front lawn, our toenails, the kids’ extra-curricular activities, the dog’s food. And on and on and on.

Why? Well, it’s possible these are expressions of who I truly am. It’s possible.

More often, I suspect they’re camouflage designed to make sure the world finds me desirable.

Only I know the difference. (The hair colour is camouflage for the most part.)

So what does meditating do? It gives me quality time with myself. It helps me peel away the layers of not me.

It brings me closer to the certainty of my truth in my gut, rather than my spouse’s truth, Oprah’s truth, my doctor’s truth, the newspaper’s truth, science’s truth, etc.

It may be the only time during my day when my truth is the focus.

In order to be sane, stable, and deeply happy, we have to detach from outside opinions/truths/perspectives and find our own.

Have you done that? Are there layers and layers to discover? Is it easy or difficult? Are there consequences when you find your own truth? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks for the conversation,

kristin


Tags: , , , ,

Posted in blog | 4 Comments »

In Praise of Losing Your HeadJuly 8th, 2011

In designing-your-ideal-life circles, coaches love to ask this: What do you love that makes you lose complete track of time?

Maybe you lose track of time brushing your teeth. I don’t know. But having wasted great chunks of my life being compulsively early and time-obsessed, the answers to that question are HUGE indicators of where I ought to be running as fast as courage will take me.

So what does it? And I mean really lose track of time, like holy time warp, Batman, is that sunset out there? I haven’t brushed my teeth, for God’s sake. That’s what I mean.

There were years  when I had no answer, which would be pathetic except that those years generated the certainty that being among the living dead would not do for me.

Here are my answers now:

1. Rehearsing for a great play as an actor. It’s the discovery process. All rehearsals should be 27 hours long. Without a break. I can never understand why anyone wants to stop.

2. Rehearsing for a great play as a director. Same thing.

3. Speaking with and entertaining groups of people re: making ourselves well by making ourselves happy. I think it’s the communal discovery thing again.

4. This one is recent and is the reason I’ve been thinking about this: Kundalini yoga. I’m mad for it. I read yoga DVD reviews like Southern Baptists read bibles, over and over and over till the sane people around me cover their ears and roll their eyes back a decade. I do two classes a day and would do more if I could still hold my arms up. I fantasize about upping that to three or four and calling my entire life a Kundalini transformation camp. The dog will only sit through one class a day with me. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.

Those are it for me. I’d love to hear yours. And not just for fun, although I’m all for fun.

I suspect there’s something healthy in losing our heads, our allegiance to the almost constant got-to-have-to-tick-tock-love-to-but-can’t-even-contemplate-it-tick-tock filter through which make our choices every day.

I look forward to hearing what you have to say.

Thanks, always, for the conversation,

kristin


Tags: , , , , ,

Posted in blog | 13 Comments »

Kundalini CrushJune 14th, 2011

kundalinicrush.jpg

I’ve got a bad, bad case of Kundalini Crush. There’s no pride in saying this. I haven’t said
much about my last crush, on Javier Bardem, for example, even though
he is the best actor in the WORLD, because it sounds, well, a bit
trashy to have crushes when you’re older than 13.

Whether or not you admit it, though,
people catch on when the only movies you rent feature Javier Bardem,
you compare all men’s eyes to his (unfavorably), and all you can
talk about is the incredible depth of feeling in his incredible face.
(The overuse of superlatives is the number one sign you’ve gone
over the crush cliff.)

So, too, do you give yourself away when you convince your fellow actors that breath of fire is the best stage warm-up ever, when you stare
up at your own eyebrows, when
you start thinking you’d look fabulous in a white turban.

I’ve got it bad, and there’s not a
thing I can do about it except to ride it out. I’ll try not to
recruit you. I’ll try to respect that you may love your own yoga
to the same depth and breadth my soul can reach with Kundalini.
(Lapsing into Shakespeare is another sign you’ve gone over the
cliff.) You, for all I know, may think that Jean-Claude Van Damme is
the finest actor in the world. You may have your own yoga crush.

Truth is I’m only a week or so
into it. Perhaps I’ll have some perspective down the line. Or not.

Has this happened to you on your yoga
path? Have you ever jumped into a new form of yoga, one that knocks your socks off?

I’d love to hear.

Thanks to Kundalini yoga for being
AMAZING, brilliant, the best of the best. Of the very instant that I
saw you, did my heart fly at your service. Sorry. Shakespeare.

Thanks to Julie and Kelly, in the photo above, for giving breath of fire a whirl right before going on stage. Thanks to yoga, and to the fact that we love to fall in love.

Thanks to you, always, for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
on Twitter,
and on iTunes.


Tags: , , , , , ,

Posted in Yoga | No Comments »

Classes in My BasementJune 9th, 2011

yjDVDs.jpg

Yoga exists on the other side of the known universe from television. That’s my opinionated opinion.

Or was. Yesterday’s mail changed that. I received my first three yoga DVDs, the ones I ordered after my introduction to Kundalini yoga. There are no Kundalini classes in my town, so I did what anyone would do: I went to Amazon, read four billion reviews, and ordered a few DVDs.

My practice has been in classes, mostly Ashtanga or Hatha, or on my own in my living room. What a departure to head to my lovely man’s yoga room in the basement this morning and pop my Kundalini teacher into the DVD player! Music! Encouragement! New moves! New teachers! New approach to yoga!

I loved it.

Will it replace classes for me? Not a chance. I’ve just recently been inspired once more to go back to classes.

Will it replace silent solo practice? I don’t think so. Silence is good. So is calling my own asanas.

I do foresee an immediate binge, though, of DVD Kundalini classes in the basement. (As binges go, one could do much worse.)

I’m curious. Do you do yoga by DVD? Do you have favourite DVDs? I’d love to hear.

Thanks to the yoga DVD industry for taking good excellent care of so many people at home. Thanks to the Raviana Kundalini videos in my basement (they are a blast) and thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr. Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web, on Facebook, on Twitter, and on iTunes.


Tags: , , , , ,

Posted in Yoga | No Comments »

Yoga and Energy ManagementJune 2nd, 2011

yjsunset.jpg

Oh, I adore yoga today.

Over a 20-year career in health
care practice, you can’t help but see that health care, indeed life
care, has everything to do with management of energy.

Some people have a strong sense of
their own power. They’re generally unafraid of their bodies, other
people, and life events. They trust. They’re the optimists, the
resilient ones who know that even when things look bad, they’re
headed in a great direction. They act out of confident joy. They are
motivated by fun, happiness, feeling good. (“It makes me feel
fantastic,” they say about traveling, about new careers, about
highland dancing, photography, about going back to school.)

At the other end of the spectrum are
those who are afraid of life, of their own bodies, of viruses and
bacteria (“Of course I’ll get that cold, I get all the colds”),
of the unknown, of scarcity, of the future. They don’t trust–they suffer. They act out of fear. Their choices are based on just-in-case scenarios and preventing bad
things from happening. They’re all about anti-cancer, anti-poverty, anti-aging,
anti-heart disease (“My mother had it, my father had it, my
brother’s going to get it, he eats so badly, god, I might as get on
the transplant list now.”), and on and on.

Some days we’re at one end of this
scale, and some days at the other.

We also manage our energy differently
in different areas of life. Think of finances, parenting, work,
death, career choices, sports. Think of your mother, your ex, your taxes. Think about going back to yoga class.

This is a huge subject, worth far more
than a wee blog, and my intention is not to trivialize.

I raise it to say this:

I love that every morning brings us the
chance to find out where we are in terms of managing our energy, and
the opportunity to make a new choice.

On those days when the monkey mind,
before I have even opened my groggy eyes, is chatting about
stiffness, getting older, and what I can’t do, I remember this
difference between fear and joy, and that’s enough to stop my
nonsense.

Most days it’s enough to snap me
into joy so that by the time my gnarly feet reach the mat, I’m
managing my energy in a way that takes good care of my body and of
the rest of my life.

I’ll bet anything we were born to learn to manage our energy through love and joy, and to leave fear behind.

What are your thoughts?

Thanks to morning yoga for teaching me
about choice, and thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
on Twitter,
and on iTunes.


Tags: , , , , , ,

Posted in aging, choice, energy, illness, Yoga | No Comments »

Perfect TimingMay 26th, 2011

yjhavovi.jpg

On Tuesday I mentioned going to my
first Kundalini class at a new-to-me studio in Toronto.

It’d been a while since I’d been to
any class at all. The buzz it left me with was enough to bring me
back the next day for an Ashtanga class. With Havovi.

I have adored every yoga teacher who
has ever crossed my path. Every one of them has been supportive,
kind, warm, and in love with yoga.

Now and then I meet a teacher who
rattles me at a time when a good rattling is what I’m looking for.
Havovi is one of these.

The class was perfect. Hard enough to
sweat a river. Not so hard that I wanted to escape or collapse in a
heap. It found an edge that made me want to laugh. I had to work at
not laughing.

And over and over, looking right at me
(I’ll bet everyone felt she was staring at them), she said,
“Ashtanga has an incorrect reputation for being competitive. This
is your practice, and the practice is about your breath. First and
foremost, breathe. The rest will take care of itself. Whatever you
can do, do. Whatever you cannot do, accept.”

I may be paraphrasing slightly. A mild
delirium had spread by now through my body and brain.

I’m not sure what happened. Perhaps
I placed myself in her care by being in her class. Perhaps I was
just ready. Perhaps she’s crazily intuitive and a shaman as much
as a yoga teacher. Who knows? But her words about breath and about
acceptance found their way to some place that my self-talk hasn’t
reached lately during home practice. Something good opened up inside
my chest. Something that makes me feel better about myself. I don’t
know any more than that, except that whatever it is hasn’t closed
yet.

I think I’m ready to be a student
again.

Thanks to yoga for being there when I
want to chart my own course and for being there when I’m ready for
beautiful teachers. Thanks, thanks to Havovi at Bliss Yoga Studio in Toronto.

Thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
on Twitter,
and on iTunes.


Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Posted in ashtanga, kundalini, Yoga, yogaclass, yogastudio | No Comments »

Yoga TalkMarch 22nd, 2011

Yoga Chats.jpg

Last week, a great friend of my lovely man
died/passed/took-off-the-tight-shoe, and we gathered at a funeral home to send him
off.

I was in that horrid lineup, the
reception line or whatever it’s called, trying not to cry, being
one of those unfortunate saps who cry at all funerals and weddings
whether or not I know the star of the show. It’s the intensity of
grief (or joy for that matter) floating around the room. It unhinges
me.

A woman from Los Angeles, completely
unknown to me (some member of the star’s family), reached a hand
forward to take mine. I started crying. We introduced ourselves. I
wiped my nose.

“Are you the one who does yoga?”
she asked.

“What?”

“Yoga. I hear you do yoga. Is that
right?”

“Yes, I do yoga.”

“I love yoga,” she said. “We
both do,” she added, pointing to her husband. “I’ll find you later,”
she said. “We’ll talk.” I moved down the line, wondering
whether I’d imagined the whole thing.

Less than 30 minutes later, I
introduced myself to the guy who runs the funeral home.

“You’re the one who does yoga,
aren’t you?” he said.

“I’m one of them. There are lots
of us,” I said, starting to wonder what the hell was going on here.

“I did yoga in 1978, way up by James
Bay. There was no gym on the reserve. I found some Richard
Hittleman tapes. Twenty eight days of yoga. It really worked. Before that, I
thought yoga was a kind of ice cream.”

Yoga at funerals.

Something is changing. We all know
that yoga’s star is on the rise, that yoga is spreading like a kind
of gorgeous plague at an unprecedented rate.

It seems that around that
surge is an even larger wave of conversation about yoga, a
conversation taking place in grocery stores, in movie lines, at
weddings and funerals. Yoga has become an ice breaker, a
grief-breaker, a happy bonding glue.

I’ll bet you’ve had some bizarre
yoga conversations of your own. Between fishing huts? In helicopters? Submarines? On safari? In
armored vehicles?  How far does it go? I’d love
to hear.

Thanks to the lovely and charming Ferg,
who is now breathing more easily. Thanks to yoga for showing up
everywhere, and thanks to you for the conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
and on Twitter,
and on iTunes.


Tags: , , , , , ,

Posted in funeral, losangeles, richardhittleman, Yoga, yogatalk | No Comments »

Why Meditate? To Go to the WellMarch 6th, 2011

I wake up with a circus in my head. Forgot to call the sound guy yesterday (theatre), have to start practicing with the snake (theatre), lots to do today including a conversation I’d rather not have (theatre), worried about one kid (parenting/love), concerned about my lovely man (partnership/love), all with a mild caffeine-withdrawal headache.

This is not the best of me.

So I go to the well.

Which means I get a coffee and sit on the living room floor to breathe.

From the start, it feels as though the job is to become aware of my breath and what it’s doing in my body until my head shuts up. That is what happens. That’s half the story.

The other half is the magic part. Not to get all Hogwartsy, but I don’t know what else to call it.

After breathing for a bit, I feel as though I’m sinking into another place. It is just like looking at those weird pictures they used to hang in dentists’ offices, the ones that look abstract squiggles until you let your focus go wonky, at which point you see a lake, and mountains, and deer.

When my head gets quiet enough, my perception changes. I go to the well.

What’s it like? Quiet, open, huge (vast, VAST, I don’t know a big enough word), with a feeling of peace and connectedness.  Love is there, but not the personal i-love-you kind of love. It’s a huge love. It resolves a kind of ambient homesickness I carry with me everywhere else.

I suspect the well is always there, always waiting for my arrival, and that the well is where I really come from. Certainly the best creativity comes from there. And the best answers to all my concerns, except that by the time I get there, I don’t have any concerns. I’m aware that my worries about lighting, sound, snakes, kids, and lovely man have nothing to do with who I really am. (When I re-emerge from that place, I have excellent answers to the questions I no longer am so worried about.)

Meditation, then, is just me walking toward the well every day. Clearing a path.

Why tell you this?

Because you might have your own version of finding your way to the well, in which case I’d love to hear about it. Because I suspect meditation is a great tool (at the very, very least) for becoming sane and staying sane in a nutty world.

Mostly, i guess, because of the desire to point to beautiful things.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks for the conversation,

kristin


Tags: , , , ,

Posted in blog | 4 Comments »

Bring on the GermsFebruary 11th, 2011

P1000405.JPG

When my lovely man began yoga classes,
he borrowed a mat from the rack of mats at the front of the studio.
It worked well enough for him, so he borrowed the same mat for the
next 9 or 10 classes, at which point he heard one of our teachers
tell a new student that the rack at the front was for privately owned
mats. Horrified and feeling like a thief, he rolled up his (no, not
his) mat and returned it, hoping its owner was not somewhere in the
room, glaring unpeacefully at him.

I’m visiting family this week, and
we’re talking about mats. I used my brother-in-law’s mat this
morning for my practice. It was on the basement floor already rolled out for me.

Later, over coffee, my sister-in-law Colleen mentions that she borrows a mat for her classes. Clay responds with a look that makes it clear that he is repulsed by this sharing of germs. Which makes me think
I should not have used his mat. (Perhaps he’d left it on the floor
after his own practice last night.) I keep my mouth shut.

I love sweat, my own and yours. I love
the sharing of germs and bacteria, and will never cover a toilet seat
with toilet paper before I sit on it. (And forget hovering over a
toilet seat. That just feels like a bad helicopter imitation to me.) I have a
profound sense of trust in my own immune system and a perhaps
arrogant belief that my germs can only improve your health if we
should be so lucky to meet face to sweaty face, bum to toilet to bum,
or hands and feet to mat.

We live in a germophobic world. We
spray mats, floors, and doorknobs. We spray ourselves, inside and out.

It looks like fear to me. Fear of
ourselves, of each other, and of anything not gleaming with antiseptic fervor.

I could be completely whacked, of
course, out of my mind with some bacterial plague I don’t know about.

What do you say?

Thanks to yoga for bringing us so
close, whether or not it makes us comfortable, and thanks to you for
the sweaty conversation,

kristin

Dr.
Kristin Shepherd is a chiropractor, actor, and speaker (About All
Things Wonderful) in North Bay, Ontario.  Join her on the web,
on Facebook,
and on Twitter,
and on iTunes


Tags: , , , ,

Posted in bacteria, germs, sharing, Yoga, yogamat | No Comments »