Tag: mind-body health

‘Tis The SeasonDecember 1st, 2011

“Are you ready for Christmas?”

What the hell does that mean?

What a season. Sure, we sing Christmas tunes. And things sparkle. For the religious, there’s the whole Jesus thing, which is probably satisfying.

But. Over twenty years in a health care practice, I saw this as a season of huge stress.

The Joy bar, if you can imagine one, is raised. You’re supposed to feel jolly, bursting with good will, eager to be with your loved ones (even the drunken aunts and the bigoted, pedophiliac, shoplifting, arsonist, B&E in-laws), and, most of all, willing to shop for all of the above. There’s nothing like an elevated expectation of joy to make you feel less joyous, to make you feel like a Scrooge-y underachiever in the realm of happiness.

Families get together, which is wonderful and not. Combined families do the absurd and hugely complicated Cirque du Soleil thing in order to be at all twelve turkey dinners around the country, stuffed to the resentful, guilty wishbone by the end of it all.

People spend themselves into debt that amounts to carrying a fat, loaded sleigh for the rest of the winter.

I drive by the mall, stare at four bizillion cars in the parking lot, and head to the library instead. I’ve done this twice in the last week. I’ll be well read, if not “ready” at all, by Christmas.

So what does it mean to be “ready” for Christmas?

Here’s my checklist:

1. Am I listening to my own values? (Do I even know what my values are?)

2. Am I doing what makes me happiest or am I just doing my best not to offend my mother, my father, my lover, my husband (same thing in some cases, but not for everybody this Christmas – talk about Cirque du Soleil stress), my kids, my in-laws, the guy who delivers the mail, every starving kid in Africa who will die because i just wasted $20 on a hat that no one will wear, the clerk who has asked me 600 times to donate an extra dollar to a cause I have no interest in?

3. Am I allowing my kids and lovely man to make their own decisions about what makes them happy (or am I pressuring the hell out of them to do what I want)?

4. Am I finding time every day to remember who I am? To breathe and be sane? To remember that Love is the Point?

Ahhhhh, that’s it.

The moment I remember that Love is the Point, I’m ready.

Are you ready? What’s the point for you? And is it easy for you to remember your own point this season? I’d love to hear.

Thanks for the conversation,

kristin


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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


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I Am More Than ThisSeptember 8th, 2011

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Warning: We are all actors.

Acting in theatre is like growing a
yoga practice. You do it with wonderful people. Some of it is
challenging, most of it is fun. There are a lot of laughs.
All the while, a character and a life story grow. Try it. You’d
love it.

If you come from theatre, acting for
film is crazy.

My agent, who calls me Christian (this
is not encouraging), sent me to a film audition this week. He prefaced
the event by telling me how unlikely it was that I’d get the role
of Lawyer in the movie. Bizillions of other actors auditioning for a
one-paragraph part, he said.

Here’s how it goes. I take half a day
to do hair, makeup, and what I hope are lawyerlike jeans and a jacket.
By noon I don’t recognize myself. I memorize the lines and do my
best to feel like a lawyer.

I arrive at the hotel where the screen
tests are being done. I see 10 other women, all 15 years
younger and beautiful, all dressed in navy suits and stilettos, all
of whom make me feel older than my grandmother (who’s been dead for 25 years) and
profoundly un-lawyerly.

I do a two-minute screen test on camera
during which no one in the room makes eye contact, and I go home,
laughing nervously, saying, that’s the end of the big film career.

Here’s the thing: I’ll bet we all
have days when we’re doing things that are beyond comfortable. New
things, difficult things, potentially humiliating or embarrassing
things. We take risks, all of us, following persistent, tickly
instincts that say, “Try this. Come on, just try.”

I’m a huge fan of risk, of trying new
things. It keeps me alive and I want to be ALIVE while I’m alive,
if you know what I mean.

What I need, in order to take risks, is
something to go home to that pats me on the back. Something that
says, “Good for you, good for you.” Something that assures me that I am
more than the risks I take, more than my successes and failures.

That something at home is yoga. As soon
as I walk in the door, I change clothes, and in full fake lawyer
makeup and hair, begin a good, thorough practice that brings me
home to the real me.

So. I’m grateful for yoga for
creating a comfort place from which I can leap a little higher and a
little more often. (This time, miraculously, I got the part. I’ll
let you know how it goes.)

Has yoga changed your approach to
confidence, risk-taking, and comfort?

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.


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Learning What I’m NotSeptember 1st, 2011

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“Don’t
pretend yourself beyond your evolution.” Byron Katie

I
thought by now I’d be calling all poses by their Sanskrit names. I
thought I’d be vegan, dressed in earthy-bushy-leafy colors and
hemp cloth, sprouting sprouts, and drinking water from my own well.

I’ve
been at this yoga practice for almost two years, and my current
thought is that it ain’t gonna happen.

Sometimes
you approach what you are by learning what you aren’t.

As
far as I can tell, I am not a disciple, one of the solemnly
eight-branch earnest. I do not see yoga as the one and only path for
all. I’m not interested in quoting the sutras the way others quote
the Bible or any other religious text as an ultimate authority.
Although I’m impressed by yoga’s longevity, I feel no obligation
to do it the way it was done 2,000 years ago.

Nor
am I one of the Lululemon movement, on a modern marketing train, doing some
miraculous hybrid of the old and the capitalist/activist new. Kudos
to them for being the reason so many people my kids’ age will love
yoga. And for making so many bums look good in yoga pants. Not my thing, so far.

Where
am I, then? So far, it’s all about feeling great. I like yoga because it feels deliriously good, inside and out. My greatest belief is that we should all pursue whatever makes us feel this good.

I
love what makes me feel at home in my body and on the planet. I love
feeling strong and increasingly peaceful. I love meeting myself
during practice every day. I love following the kind of practice that
makes me feel most alive.

I
suspect, bottom line, that yoga is the best vehicle for taking me where I’ve been
headed all my life anyway.

This
is not to disparage yoga in any way. Rather, I’m wary of setting
yoga up as the be-all and end-all, the great savior. I’m not
interested in worshiping yoga. I’m interested in questioning her, learning from her, spending time hanging out with her. I’m interested in her
companionship.

So
that’s where I am. Yoga as friend.

I’d
love to hear your thoughts about what you are and what you aren’t. About where yoga fits in your life at this point.

Thanks
to yoga for being so roomy, so multifaceted, and so generous.

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.


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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


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Everything I Need to KnowJune 13th, 2011

I’ve just returned from acting and directing at a theatre festival. Wish you’d been with us.

Here’s what came up.

1. We think healthy and not-so-healthy thoughts, we feel healthy and not-so-healthy feelings. I do better when i welcome both, and let both go.

2. The crowd may love me, the crowd may not. There’s no point in getting too bent out of shape by either of those.

3. There is nothing as good as sinking into right here, right now. Best thing about being an actor, as far as I know.

4. I’m human. Some days that pisses me off, but it’s the truth.

5. Celebrate everyone’s work, their efforts, their willingness to be here and open, and their limitations. If I’m lucky, they’ll be as generous with me when i need it.

6. What I know about myself matters more than what anyone else thinks, as long as what I know about myself has to do with being gifted, loving, and loved.

7. Javier Bardem is the best actor in the world. This has nothing to do with the weekend, but I’m in the middle of a crush, and am proud I resisted mentioning him in the first line.

8. Love wins. Loving myself. Loving the people who are easy to love. Loving the people who drive me mad. Loving my work and play. Loving whatever is in front of my face right now.

9. Whatever I need to know is right in front of me. Every time.

Hope you’re having a wonderful day.

Thanks for the conversation,

kristin


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Yoga and Energy ManagementJune 2nd, 2011

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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.


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Nervousness on the MatMay 31st, 2011

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On the phone this morning, I mentioned
to my sister that I’m often anxious about going to new yoga
studios. Truth be told, I’m nervous going back to my home studio
whenever I’ve been away for a bit.

“So what?” said my sister, “I’m
afraid before every class.”

I called her back just now to ask about
that, and we chatted for 30 minutes about when and why
nervousness is a part of yoga life for both of us.

I don’t hear much from yogaland about
this. You write, mostly, saying you’re more comfortable on your
mats in yoga class than anywhere else.

That isn’t true for me. I’m most
comfortable on my mat at home. I’d stay there forever if my
practice didn’t skew over time into 48 Sun Salutations followed by
bits and pieces of favorite and not-too-challenging asanas. In fact,
I’d be content with that happy skew if my low back, hips, knees, and general spirit weren’t so vocal in wanting more.

Are you nervous about class, ever?

I feel it when I contemplate going. I
feel it as I drive to class. I feel it as I roll out my mat and as
the others roll out mats around me. The second class begins, the
tense gut disappears. I’m in love again.

My sister suspects her fear comes from
competitiveness (she should be levitating in full lotus by now, she
says) and a feeling that she must outperform herself each time, that
it isn’t enough to just show up and do what her body would like.
Some days her body doesn’t want to do much.

My discomfort involves a judgment about
my body, my sturdiness, about looking like a pudgy 13-year-old, something i was hoping to have moved beyond by the age of 49.  It’s a wish to be somewhere other than here and now.  I see the ridiculousness of it, but it doesn’t stop the discomfort.

This week I’m grateful for looking at
this clenched gut. It isn’t new, it’s just been hiding somewhere
while I practiced at home all winter.

Can you identify? No? I’d love to
hear, either way.

Thanks to yoga (I think) for sticking
with me while I run from and return to all these bits of self.
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.


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Perfect TimingMay 26th, 2011

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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.


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

Why Meditate? Got a Grudge?May 25th, 2011

I had a grudge going this week. Full-out, personal, justified, thorny, supported by anyone to whom i presented my case, consuming, blood-pressure-raising, unattractive yet perversely seductive, impossible to let go, and exhausting.

That’s one truth.

Here’s another. I know that a week from now i’ll feel differently. In fact, if i don’t feel differently a week from now, if i haven’t moved past this, i’ll have no interest in living with myself.

That’s a funny thing about grudges. You’re okay with them in the moment. They feel good in some awful sliver-in-your-finger way, but jesus murphy, you don’t want to identify yourself as a grudge holder, you don’t want to be one of those semi-permanent bitter folk. (I picture rollers in stringy hair, gnarly knuckes, a wrinkled face under fluorescent factory lights, and cigarette smoke curling up from a thin, bitter mouth. Evil Bette Davis eyes. This could be me, i know it could.)

This is why i meditate today. In order to remind myself that who i am is deeper than a grudge, deeper than who’s to blame, deeper than the temptation to judge. Deeper than all the stuff I get right and all of the stuff I get wrong. Deeper than success and failure. Deeper than most of what goes on all day long.

Who i really am hums with a different crowd: with love, peace, good will, compassion, beauty everywhere i look, and peace.

When i don’t meditate, i fight my grudges.

When i do meditate, i remember who i am and wrap my grudges in love until they look like love inside and out.

Is that reason enough to meditate? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks for the conversation,

kristin


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