When that which is unresolved comes up for resolution

Pregnancy (no, I’m not referring to myself here) is a time in life when all that is unresolved comes up for resolution. Although I can’t confirm this from personal experience, it is one of the common experiences we touched on in my prenatal yoga teacher training earlier this month. It was the second time that resolution (and healing) had come up for me in just the first couple days of the month, and I took notice. I started to think about other times when that which is unresolved comes up for resolution. Certainly times of loss—of a job or a loved one—or confrontation with death are other examples. Perhaps marriage is also an example (I do have more recent experience with this). Running through each of these examples is the common thread of significant life change. And yet, there may be other times as well, when the time is just right—when there is an opening for resolution and healing without any clear, identifiable reason.

This is what the folks at The Power Path suggest—that this month, the month of November, is such a time when there is an opening for resolution and healing in our lives. You can read their full monthly forecast, based on the primary themes of resolution and healing, here.

Another theme for many of us this month is gratitude, with the Thanksgiving holiday coming up on Thursday. As I sat with these themes of resolution, healing, and gratitude, contemplating resolution and healing through the lens of gratitude, it occurred to me that one way we can find resolution and healing is actually through gratitude. What I mean by finding resolution and healing through gratitude is finding gratitude for what certain challenging experiences and people, which perhaps leave us feeling unresolved and hurt, teach us—how we grow and change because of them. I’m not suggesting this is easy. It may happen slowly over time, layer by layer, like peeling back the layers of an onion. In order to do this work, we need to be able to find our ground, open, and surrender.

Here are a couple ideas for how you can find your ground, open, and surrender, and move toward gratitude, resolution, and healing through yoga practice and meditation.

Practice

Earth Mudra with Strong Whole Body Breath: Find a comfortable cross-legged seat, sitting up on one or more blankets, a bolster, or block, so your knees can relax below your hips. Root down through the sitting bones, and lengthen and straighten up through the spine (You may choose to sit with your back against a wall). Allow the shoulder blades to descend down the back, broaden across the collarbones, and open the heart. Find a soft gaze or gently close your eyes. Rest your hands on your thighs, palms up, and bring the thumb and ring finger of each hand together to touch. This is Earth Mudra. Sense the downward, earth-bound energy invoked by this mudra. Bring awareness to the breath and begin strong whole body breathing, which is not a technique, but also not your habitual breathing. Rather, rediscover the natural breath, the breath you were born with. Breathing with the full body, get out of the way of the breath and allow the breath to breathe you. Inhale without pulling, exhale without pushing. Rediscover the full capacity and movement of the breath, which will likely be more than your habit. Strengthen the breath on the inhale—feel the nostrils open, the breath moves to the back of the nose, down the throat, and deep into the lungs. Exhale fully and evenly.

Warrior Poses (Virabhadrasana 1, 2, 3, and Peaceful Warrior)

Tree Pose (Vrksasana)

Gentle Backbends (perhaps leading into deeper backbends)

Standing and seated forward folds (Uttanasana, Prasarita Padottanasana, Paschimottanasana, and Upavistha Konasana)

Healing Light Meditation

Find a comfortable cross-legged seat as described above for Earth Mudra. Bring your attention to the top of your head. Imagine a sunroof implanted there. Visualize the sunroof opening, plates of the skull separate to receive healing, white light streaming down from above. See the pure, white light moving down from crown through third eye center, throat, heart center, solar plexus, and belly to the base of the spine. With every inhale, imagine the light moving up this central energy channel of the body. With every exhale, visualize the light moving down. To close, chant the sound of Om. At the end of the Om, bring the tip of your tongue to the roof of your mouth, sending your vibration up and filling your head with pure, healing light.

For the remaining days of this month, I invite you to tune into what may be presenting itself for resolution. And, at the same time, be kind to yourself and, in the words of the poet Rainer Maria Rilke, "Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart."

With light, love and gratitude,

Anneke

* Special thanks to Janice Clarfield for her instruction of Earth Mudra, Strong Whole Body Breath, and the healing light meditation during our prenatal yoga teacher training.

Running: Another Form of Meditation in Motion

I started running again this summer after injuring my back in September of last year.

My husband and I were just married and driving across the country to move from New Jersey to Colorado. At a stop in Wall Drug, South Dakota, after a few full days of driving, I bent over to replace a nail game I had been playing with in one of the souvenir shops to its place on the floor. I made it about halfway back up to standing before my back gave out on me and I collapsed on the floor. It was like nothing I had ever felt before.

I was able to heal my back over the course of 4-6 weeks through a gentle, and extremely aware, yoga practice. But I didn’t go back to running right away. Rather, I continued to immerse myself in yoga--slowly building my practice back up--and started to connect with the yoga community in Colorado, and to teach yoga classes.

My husband, and his subscription to Runner’s World, eventually inspired me to start running again. I read an article in the May 2010 issue called “Transcendental Steps (Or How I learned to Love Running Without an iPod)” about the author’s personal experience of learning to apply meditation techniques to running, while at The Shambhala Mountain Center in Colorado, on a program called, “Running with the Mind of Meditation and Yoga.” (If only we weren’t already leaving Colorado to move back east to Vermont, I would surely have signed up for this program myself the next time it was offered).

The article reminded me of my morning runs at Liberty State Park in New Jersey, just across the Hudson from lower Manhattan. As the sun rose behind the skyscrapers and through the clouds, I would find peace and joy in the knowledge that the sun was always there, even when I couldn’t see it through the clouds.

In my yoga teacher training, we discussed a metaphor for meditation along these lines. If meditation is about tapping into universal consciousness, we can visualize that consciousness, that spaciousness, that expansiveness, as the vast blue sky that is ever present above the clouds. The weather represents our daily experience on the ground. Some days, there isn’t a cloud in the sky, and we find it easy to open to and connect with our source. Other days, dark clouds fill the sky, rain falls, wind blows. And, while we might not be able to change the weather, we can change how we react to it, and find deep peace and joy in knowing that the blue sky is always there, above the weather of our everyday lives.

I ventured out on my first run since injuring my back when we were in Maine in May for my husband’s graduation from medical school. I gave myself full permission to walk as needed, and to take in the sights and smells of the ocean, the lilacs, and the wild roses. I returned feeling energized and inspired.

Then my husband and I were off on a belated honeymoon to Argentina, which didn’t offer much time for running, aside from a couple days in Buenos Aires, running through the ecological reserve, past brightly colored exotic birds, and pausing to contemplate the vastness of the mouth of the Rio de la Plata.

I really started to get into the routine of running again after we had settled in Burlington. And I made a conscious choice to take a meditative approach--to make it a meditation in motion.

I choose not to listen to music, and I use a variety of techniques to focus my awareness on the body and breath, and to observe my mind.

I bring my attention to my feet and how they connect with the earth.

I breathe evenly in and out through the nose (sometimes out through the mouth), adjusting the breath to support the needs of my activity in the moment.

I silently repeat the mantra, “My breath, my fuel; my legs, my tool.”

When my legs feel tired and heavy, I imagine breathing white light down into the muscle fiber, creating space and lightness in the legs.

When my mind wanders, I bring it back to the breath.

I focus on the inhale expanding my belly, and the exhale drawing my belly toward the spine.

On the inhale, I imagine my heart expanding and drawing me forward—a green lotus flower blossoming from my heart center. I tune into my abs contracting on the exhale, helping me maintain my posture and propelling me farther forward.

I observe my thoughts, as if I were outside myself looking in on my mind, watching the thoughts rise and fall without following them or attaching to them.

I find a soft gaze--which in Sanskrit is called drishti--a comfortable distance ahead of me.

I am reminded of something one of my high school teachers used to say, to the effect of, “Looking out at the horizon, I trip on the curb.” (I remember him attributing this quote to Che Guevara, but haven’t been able to verify it. Perhaps he was just saying he was similar to Che in this way). This quote reminds me to keep an open focus--aware of what is around me (expanded peripheral vision) and the next step (so I don’t trip over the curb or step in something undesirable), while gazing softly into the distance.

Coming Home to the Self

Autumn is a time when we start to draw inward. The birds and squirrels are preparing for winter--gathering and storing food. With the chill in the air, we too begin moving into hibernation mode, tending to become more introspective and internally-focused, and to spend more time at home. Home in the sense of the physical dwellings that shelter us, as well as the home that we find within ourselves--in our bodies and in our hearts--a home that we carry with us wherever we go. So no matter where we are, we are home.

In his writings and teachings, Thich Nhat Hahn shares a number of short verses, which are intended to be recited during daily activities to help us return to ourselves--to help us return to mindfulness. These short verses are intended to be used with the breath. So on the inhale, we recite one line. And on the exhale, we recite the second line. The first two lines of one such verse are:

(Breathing in) I have arrived
(Breathing out) I am home

The full verse that Thich Nhat Hahn shares in his writings and teachings is:

I have arrived
I am home
In the here
In the now
I am solid
I am free
In the ultimate
I dwell.
Arrived, arrived
At home, at home
Dwelling in the here
Dwelling in the now
Solid as a mountain
Free as the white clouds
The door to no-birth, no-death has opened
Free and unshakable I dwell.

Take a moment now to silently repeat just the first two lines, or the entire verse, to yourself as you breathe deeply and evenly in and out.

Then bring the palms of your hands together to touch at heart center, in a prayer position--Anjali Mudra--and gently bow your head toward your heart. We spend so much time in our heads, following our thoughts wide and far. Take this opportunity to surrender the wandering mind to the home of the heart. Welcome home. Namaste.