My father was bipolar, a fact he was deeply ashamed of. Mental illness was deeply stigmatized back then, and he was raised in a patriarchal household where a man’s self-worth was narrowly defined. His diagnosis made him feel impotent, he thought it prevented him from being a “real” man. Relying on medications and therapy for the rest of his life was unacceptable; it meant he was weak, that he’d failed. The only way to be a real man was to be free of all “crutches;” to be free of mental illness. He would try to cycle off his treatments at regular intervals. Every time he cycled off it resulted in tragic, heartbreaking consequences. He died a month before my 23rd birthday because he did not want to admit he needed help.
My father’s narrow definition of health and manhood wreaked havoc on our family. My childhood was a series of fires I either helpless watched rage out of control, desperately tried to put out, ran from, into, or planned escape routes around. By the time I reached adulthood, my psyche was a tinder box - one spark could set it ablaze.
Lucky for me, about six months before my dad died, I discovered yoga. The class was taught by an Iyengar teacher in a gym. At the beginning of each class she would wheel in a tall, wobbly, metal cabinet full of props; mats, blankets, blocks, straps, bolsters, wedges. It even had folding, backless, metal chairs. We were constantly getting things out of, and putting things back in, the cart. We had to learn how to manipulate them, how to use them, how to care for them. The props were as much a part of the class as the teacher was. The message was; “These props are a part of your experience. They support you. The props are yoga.”
Before that class, I do not believe I had ever experienced “support” as a part of day to day life. The idea that support could be a mundane, routine aspect of living was truly wild to me. Support was a dirty little secret we kept behind closed doors. No one was supposed to know we needed things!
I asked my teacher, “The props - we don’t use them all the time, do we? I mean, we’re just using them because we’re bad at yoga, right? We eventually outgrow them, that’s the point, right?”
She looked confused and said, “The props? No, the props just - are. I mean maybe you don’t need them, but we always use them.”
What a novel idea that was! I could show up and, if I needed support or not, support was there. It was just going to be there. Support was this open, plain, condition-less, restriction-less, requirement-free thing in the room. There was no value judgment. The props were just a part of the practice; maybe we don’t need them, but we always use them.
That class opened a window of possibility; maybe, if I choose things that supported my overall well-being, I could fortify my life. Maybe there were ways to build a firewall, add some flame retardant, dig a fire line around my brittle, dry, flammable life. I stuck with the class and, by the time my dad died, I had started to build a foundation of support for myself. I had a small reserve to draw from, something that would eventually help me out of many dark and desperate times in my life.
We need to stop stigmatizing support. Humans are social creatures. We need each other to survive. We need to support each other. We need to ask for and give support. In every training there is this “the crossing over” – the time when our young student-teachers move from awareness of themselves as the teacher to realizing teaching is about being there for someone else. This is not an easy thing to come to grips with. Most people start taking yoga because we have a need, something we hope will help us manage.
We stay with the practice because it supports us.
When we feel pulled to teach, we have to take it a step further; we have to move from what yoga does for us to think about what we can do for others. Teaching is an act of supporting people. It is meeting them as they are, celebrating them, and working to discover how to best support them as they are. Take the “shoulds” out of your practice. If a person needs support, don’t just give it to them - celebrate them. Model support by using support and celebrating your use of it. Show gratitude and grace for support. It is necessary and it is good; both on and off the mat. Take and give support and remind yourself, “this is part of my overall my life, an aspect of my health and well-being. It is a blessing. Thank you for being there for me.”
A Yoga Christmas Story
My younger son is ten years old. Ten is a liminal age, the beginning of the tween years. Being a tween is hard because their whole “thing” is that they are straddling a line between here and there, and not being anywhere. It is confusing, sometimes lonely, and often scary.
This year has been particularly hard for Jai because, not only is he entering his tweens, but he is also mourning the loss of his grandmother. Jai was very close with his grandma. They were kindred spirits; sweet, loving, carefree artists. Losing her was like losing a piece of himself.
Jai has also decided this year that he no longer believes in Santa Claus. For weeks he has been hounding me with forlorn questions like, “Santa’s not real right? I know he’s not real.”
I didn’t really know how to respond. Conventional wisdom says we parents are supposed to take our cue from our kiddo. When the child is ready to move on, they ask. When they ask, we are supposed to give them the “Santa is within” speech. That speech is supposed to help them transition from “gift-getter” to “gift-giver” with grace. It is supposed to make them excited about their new role in the whole Christmas Experience universe.
It is nice and neat, and, when it works, it is a parenting win. I gave the speech to my older son and it worked. He was excited to be in on the secret and embraced Phase II of Christmas Magic with enthusiasm and pride. But with Jai, there was no joy in the big reveal. He was sad and heartbroken. His chin dropped to his chest and he choked back tears. He struggled to articulate why he was taking it so hard, but eventually said, “It was just nice you know? The idea that someone out there was looking out for me.”
Of course, this wasn’t about Santa. It was about his grandma. If Santa was real, then maybe his grandma might not be gone either. Maybe she was out there somewhere, looking out for him. Or, if grandma was gone, it was tolerable because Santa, an old, magical being, was still out there, checking on him. Santa understood his inner most heart. Santa understood what he liked. Santa would reassure him that he was seen, that he was loved.
But now, that fantasy was shattered. Santa wasn’t real and his grandma was gone. And, no matter how heartbreaking it was, no matter how badly Jai wanted to believe in Santa, he didn’t. His maturing sense of self demanded he accept it. Despite the pain, he had to accept a new reality.
This is one of the hardest parts of being a parent. I want to shield my children from every heartache. But, of course I can’t. I can’t mourn for Jai. The best I can do is offer support. I can sit with him, hold him, let him cry. I can help him find words and hold space for him, but I cannot do the emotional work for him. That burden is his. And sadly, the emotional labor is his as well.
Sutra 2.1 of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, states that we must “accept pain as purification.” We must accept that the work will be difficult and uncomfortable. In taking on the practice, I understand that it will not be easy, and it will be painful, but I do it anyway.
Basically; I choose to grow up.
What a miracle choosing to grow up is! As his parent, I would have happily let Jai spend another year in “Santa Fantasy,” - hell, I would have shielded him forever! - but he forced my hand. I think he needed a new narrative for loss, a way to mourn the loss of two beloved friends. We sat together for a while, discussing how “Santa Magic” still exists, but just in a different way, and then Jai said, “I know you have Santa Magic in you mom… I think I do too.”
We often glorify youth and say things like, “I believe!” as a testament to our blissful ignorance, but I think we should celebrate our successful maturation too. Yes, growing up comes with uncomfortable, hard moments - that is the “emotional burden” of being alive. We don’t get out of bearing that burden by running away from it. When we choose to do our own emotional labor, it moves us from the child-like “gift getter” to the adult “gift giver” – it makes us more empathic, compassionate and loving.
And those are wonderful gifts to give and receive.
May you love and be loved,
give and receive support,
and care and be care for.
This Side of Thanksgiving
Welcome to the other side of Thanksgiving! As you know, the rest of the year tends to fly by. It is classically a time to reflect on the year behind us and adjust our goals and plans for the New Year. Joining the gym, improving our diet, spending less, reading more... you know this story.
Because we are human, we tend to drop these goals shortly after the New Year starts (we all know that story too:)). It is a nice idea, but we all know there is no magical fresh start in January. We are still us and our lives are as busy and challenging as they were a month ago. Plus, the winter days are short and dark, and instinctively we want to curl up against the cold.
Dedicating ourselves to wellness does not happen overnight and sometimes is not very exciting or fun. Work, consistent action, allowing ourselves to fail and keep trying, requires new tools and new ways of approaching ourselves.
Yoga teaches us to be patient, to manage boredom, and to tune in to the beauty and joy in the mundane maintenance of being human. Yoga teaches us to enjoy simple self care: sleeping well, eating foods that nourish us, moving our bodies and making quiet time for our minds. It teaches us to notice our constantly shifting emotions, wants and needs and decide what actions to take and what thoughts to dismiss.
In our yoga teacher training program, you will find a supportive community that celebrates your decision to take time out for you, and supports your desire to focus your energy towards creating your goals. Whether you go on to change your career, or take the training as an investment in yourself, your time spent learning and growing in your yoga community, will be time well spent.
We have two intensive trainings in January 2020. One over the weekends and one during the week. Click here for more information and here to apply.
We strive to keep our trainings intimate, inclusive and affordable. TSY is dedicated to keeping our tuition reasonable and will continue to do so. Historically we have offered deep discounts for students who get their tuition in early. These “early birds” allow us to make budget projections. We now have three tuition prices: the early bird discount, the pay-in-full tuition price and payment plans. Click here for more information.
Join us on Wednesday 12/4 at 4:30pm OR 6:00pm for a free Sample Class & FAQ sessions. Come to see our studio, learn more about the training and practice together. To reserve your spot, email Kate. (Also counts as makeup hours for our alumni!)
We hope you have a successful, joy-filled end to 2019 and we hope to see you soon in the New Year!
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Love, TSY
A Jen & Kate Collaboration