Asteya - What We Steal Without Realizing

Asteya, the third yama that I chose to focus on, is defined as non-stealing. Of all of the yamas, this probably, on the surface, feels like the easiest. Most people don’t generally go around activity stealing things from others. But as you dig into asteya, this actually, to me, feels like potentially the most tricky. 

Speaking for myself, and I’d guess others can relate, we often steal without realizing it.  I know that I’m often a stealer of time and energy. It’s not intentional, not per se. I don’t set out to steal from others. I’m a Quality Time person - it’s my “love language”, if you’re into such things (I am) and it’s also just generally something I value. The people in my life are incredibly important, and therefore spending quality time with those I hold closely is one of my key goals, even for this socially anxious introvert. Similarly, genuine connection with others is an aspect of life that I highly value and pursue. Between the two of these, I can be demanding of others time and energy. I need more quality time and connection time than many others. I crave it the way others may crave their favorite foods. And therefore, I often, without even realizing it, end up stealing time and energy from other people. Because I believe that people should come before almost anything else - like work or chores or housework or things or whatever it is - I’m often asking people to take time away from those activities or priorities to spend it together. Similarly, someone might want to relax and watch TV, and I want to do something together (I don't consider watching tv without much interaction actually doing something together, which I know is my weird quirk), and in this way, I can be demanding of people’s energy. 

There are plenty of other ways we can steal from others without realizing it. If you’ve ever been asked to  do something “for good exposure”, aka for free, you’ve probably felt this. You’re providing a service or a craft or a skill, and aren’t actually being compensated for the time and energy and possible actual money (i.e. if you had to buy materials, say), that you’ve put in. If you’ve ever had someone routinely ask to pick your brain without any form of compensation (either actual payment or a “barter”/trade type of situation), you may have felt this. They’re essentially asking to take your knowledge, knowledge that in some cases they may charge others to receive, for free.  

Now, this is not to say that we don’t sometimes give things away because we want to. As a mental health advocate, I’m constantly providing information about mental health, and offering for those struggling to reach out (as a peer, I’m not a mental health professional), because this is something I want to offer in order to normalize the conversation around mental health and to erode the stigma. I want to share my story in an effort to raise awareness. I want to be a person that others can turn to when they feel alone. I volunteer for opportunities to do this. But at the same time, there are plenty of instances in which I do feel that knowledge as a patient should be compensated - when people participate in trials, or in research studies, or when organizations ask for us to be part of a project as a patient expert, for instance. These can be quite involved, can take a significant amount of time and money and in some cases even travel, and compensation is warranted. 

To be clear, all of life is a little give and take. I don’t by any means feel that everyone should walk around simply thinking “what’s in it for me - if I don’t get anything back then they’re stealing from me!”. But I do feel that often, we take more than we realize. We of course notice if we physically take an item from someone (or hopefully we do, at least). But it’s those intangibles, those resources that can’t necessarily be quantified physically, that we manage to steal often without even being aware that we’re doing it. 

And on the mat? As a student, it could be ensuring that you’re not doing anything to “steal” from the other students’ experience - for instance, trying to talk to other students during class, or letting your phone ring or beep instead of putting it away. It could be something as basic as if there’s a more desirable spot in the room (i.e. because of room design or how the sun comes in the windows or whatever) not always taking that spot. It could be a more obvious form of not stealing - i.e. not asking a yoga teacher friend to get you a deal or get you into class for free, or to repeatedly give you yoga assistance/sessions for free. As a teacher, it could be ensuring that you give your class your full attention and energy. If you teach class, but your brain is on what you’re going to make for dinner that night, or the argument you had with your partner earlier, you’re taking away (aka “stealing”) attention and focus from your class.

These next two weeks, I plan to practice Asteya both on and off the mat. On the mat, whether teacher or student, I am to put aside everything from the outside, and focus solely on the class. I generally tend to be pretty good at this, which is one of the reasons I love yoga so much - it allows me to be in the present - but I want to pay particular attention, and ensure that I’m giving my full attention to the class each moment that I’m there. Off the mat, I’m focusing on being particularly conscious of the time and energy that I tend to steal, albeit unintentionally. I’m stepping back and allowing more space for others. I’m working on noticing when I’m starting to steal time or energy, in the way of excessive quality time or connection. And don’t get me wrong, I still believe these both to be essential to fulfilling relationships with others, at least for me. But I realize that my view of the amount of time or connection “needed” might be a bit skewed, that quality time is not everyone’s way of feeling loved or valued, and that sometimes, people can connect more deeply when the room and space to also focus on their other needs, including themselves. I’m also focusing on turning my attention inward, to enjoy some quality time and connection with myself, as I feel this will, in the long run, positively influence the way I approach quality time and connection with others. 

What areas in life do you notice yourself stealing? In what ways could you practice Asteya to address these? . 

How Intentionally Do You Speak To Yourself?

Last week, I wrote about intentionality in communication. And in particular, intentionality in communication with others. This week, I’d like to focus on a topic particularly near and dear to my heart - intentionality in our own self-talk. Whether it’s actually saying it out loud, or communicating it to ourselves through thought, I’d venture to guess that many of us speak significantly worse to ourselves, possibly without even realizing it (i.e. without intentionality) than we do to those around us - especially those around us that we value and respect. 

Raise your hand if you’ve if the following phrases sound familiar at all about your yoga practice: 

• I’ll never be able to do that pose (insert impossible-seeming pose here)!

• If I were more flexible/stronger/taller/shorter/thinner/more muscular/etc ….

• I’m no good at that pose/style of yoga/type of activity 

Or off the mat

• I’m not successful/I’ll never be successful  (Or basically anything that downplays your abilities/capabilities/accomplishments).

• I’m no good at …. (insert anything)

• “Oh I’m such an idiot!/So stupid!/So clumsy!/Insert insult you’d probably never say to your loved one in seriousness. 

These are a few of countless examples of negative ways in which many of us speak to ourselves. And often, we do it without even thinking about it. We state/think these as facts, or possibly as self-deprecating remarks, and often we do so repeatedly without giving it a second thought - literally.  

And don’t get me wrong, I’m all about the ability to laugh at ourselves and to know our own selves and be comfortable with that. I’m able to say with confidence that at 5’0, I’ll probably never be able to dunk a basketball in a regular height net, and I’m totally OK with that. But that’s me looking at the evidence - my height, the height of net, and general body dynamics, and coming to a conclusion that I find perfectly acceptable, because I honestly have no desire to be able to dunk a basketball. But all too often, this negative talk is about something we do care about, whether in yoga or in life. It’s about a pose that we’ve been practicing, or practicing prep for because we hope to get into said pose one day. It’s about a relationship or a friendship. It’s about a type of workout or activity. It’s about a career or goal or dream. Or it’s simply diving into random name calling at ourselves when we do something we don’t approve of, despite the fact that we’d never do so if it was our friend or loved one that took the same action. 

I’d venture to guess that if we paused a moment and thought about it, these aren’t the types of messages that we want to be giving ourselves. They aren’t intentional thoughts that we practice. They come out of seemingly nowhere, and yet they’re often all too familiar. We often don’t think to question them, and if we do, it may be half-hearted. We don’t sit down and actually pick through the evidence and create a convincing case to ourselves of why we can be successful  or could get into that pose or are not an idiot/clumsy/etc. Instead, we often bypass it with some positive affirmation we saw or heard somewhere or were told we should practice. Which, to be clear, is not at all what I’m suggesting. 

What I’m suggesting instead is, as I’ve stated with each post about intentionality, to have a why, a purpose to the way we speak to ourselves. And unless your why is to berate and discourage yourself, (I sincerely hope that it’s not), then phrases such as those above are not spoken/thought with intentionality. So what are some ways we can speak to ourselves intentionally? We can use the same questions as we did for communicating with others:

• Why are you saying what you’re saying? (Tip: “Because it’s true” isn’t a default answer I’d suggest. Especially when emotions are running high, or when we’re feeling particularly discouraged, or when we’re struggling with something, we can easily find “evidence” to support our claim that it’s true). 

• Is this the right time/place to communicate this? In the Communication post, I suggested taking into account the other person’s situation, preferences, etc. In this post, I invite you to take into account your own. This doesn’t mean avoiding difficult thoughts or emotions. But reminding yourself about all of the times you “failed” right before you go up to give a big presentation or for an important job interview isn’t the best time. Yes, we have to be honest with ourselves, but there’s a time and a place to dig into the difficult thoughts and feelings, and that time and place isn’t always right now.

• Am I communicating this in the best way possible? Here, assuming you aren’t calling or texting yourself negative things about yourself, I’m not talking about the actual communication modality - or at least not quite. Instead, I'm suggesting you look at the word choice, the “tone of voice” even if it’s internal (yes, our internal voice can have a tone). And sometimes, it might be the way in which it’s communicated. Maybe instead of having an internal conversation with yourself, you’d be better processing it through writing, or sitting with it in meditation, or some other method that helps you process.

• Am I being fully present during this communication? It’s honestly incredibly difficult to be fully present if you’re stewing in your head or ruminating or calling yourself a torrent of names. Just as arguments with others get away from us, our own self-talk can quickly snowball. Often, we stop being present in the actual circumstances, and as I mentioned above, we can almost always find proof of what our brain has decided is true. 

So this week, I invite you to think about how intentionally you speak to yourself. Whether it’s about your yoga practice or, if you’re a teacher, about your classes/sessions/yoga business, or it’s everyday life, take note of your self-talk. Are you being intentional? What is your why for the things that you say to yourself, and the way that you say them? Is it possible you’re repeating an old story, almost on auto-pilot, that your brain likes to rehash without actual proof? And then perhaps see how you can take a pause, and make that communication with yourself more intentional. 

Letting Go of the Negative Stories We Tell Ourselves

Looking ahead (Atlas Mountains outside of Marrakech, Morocco).

For the last blog in my series on letting go, I wanted to write about the “letting go” that I think can potentially be the trickiest of all (or at least of the topics discussed in this series). It encompasses a bit of everything I’ve posted about this month, and it could honestly be a series of blogs on its own, in my opinion. As with each of these topics, it can be applied both on and off the mat. That topic is Letting Go Of The Negative Stories We Tell Ourselves. 

In yoga, these stories may surround our abilities, our flexibility, our body, our fears or worries (i.e. that there’s no way we could even attempt a pose because what if we fall/can’t do it/etc). And certainly, we need to listen to our bodies, to our intuition. We don’t *have* to try any particular pose. There’s no reason we need to reach our toes in a seated fold, or balance perfectly in tree, or anything like that. But so often, it’s not simply that we’re accepting where we are in the moment and saying “Today, that pose isn’t going to serve me because ...I have an injury, I need something more restorative, it simply doesn’t feel right in my body at the moment,” etc. Instead, we tell ourselves things like “I’ll never be able to do that”. “I’m not flexible enough, strong enough, don’t have good enough balance.”  We have so many stories about who we are and aren’t, what we can and can’t do, that we put ourselves at a disadvantage even if we do attempt it. Instead of going in with the idea of “let me give this a go and see how it works,'' we're going in with the idea that we’re going to be “bad” at it (in quotes intentionally, since there is no bad in a pose). Or maybe it’s that we don’t go to a class at all. Maybe you’d like to try yoga, or to try a type of yoga, but you tell yourself you can’t do it, that you’ll embarrass yourself, that it’s too hard, or whatever it is, and you stop yourself before you even get in the door. A few weeks back in a post about My Yoga Story, I wrote about how I told myself for months, or maybe years, that I wouldn’t be able to do yoga because I wouldn’t be able to be in class and not talk for a whole hour (seriously!).  Whatever the story is, that’s all it is - a story. It’s not a fact. Even if you’ve tried that form of yoga or that class or that pose before, the only facts are that you had a particular experience on that particular day at that particular time. Everything interpreted and extrapolated from that is just a story. And if you’ve ever listened to a friend or family member or coworker tell a story that gets funnier/scarier/more phenomenal with each telling, you know that stories can change. 

It’s much the same way in day to day life. We tell ourselves stories. About our career/job. About our relationships. About our skills and abilities. About what we are “good” and “bad” at, about our strengths and weaknesses. And most notably, about what all of these say about us as human beings. We interpret information, form stories about ourselves, and call those stories facts. Or maybe someone else has interpreted the information and told a story and called it a fact, and they’re convincing enough, or do this often enough, that we begin to believe them. And eventually, we are told or tell ourselves these stories enough that they become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Just as we may not try a pose in class because we’re convinced we’ll never be able to do it, and then without practice, we struggle to do the pose, the same happens in life. For example, despite being a yoga and barre and group fitness instructor, public speaking is not my favorite. I’ve always said I’m no good at it.  So I generally haven’t volunteered for things that involve public speaking. Which means I’m never going to be more comfortable with public speaking (that’s not teaching a class), and I’m always going to feel like I’m bad at public speaking. And truth is, it may be that I’m never going to be a great public speaker - we all have different skills and preferences, and I truly am an introvert that feels better behind the screen than in front of a crowd unless I’m teaching some sort of a yoga/workout class. But if I keep telling myself the story that I’m never going to be a good public speaker, chances are, I'm never going to do anything to change that perception because I’m too worried I will be bad at it, and I’ll always feel uncomfortable speaking in public. 

And of course, we are perfectly within our rights as human beings to not do something that we don’t prefer. If you just plain out don’t enjoy yoga or running or public speaking or whatever it is, unless for some reason you’re required to do it, you don’t need to force yourself to. Just like, if you really don’t want to apply for a job because it doesn’t sound like something you’d enjoy, then don’t do it.  But if you aren’t doing something, be it a yoga pose or a life thing or a career thing, because you’re worried about somehow not being enough/bad at it/etc, I’d ask you to pause before committing to not doing it. Ask yourself if your reasons are actual facts or preferences, or if they’re based off of a negative story that you’re telling yourself. Because often it’s holding on to these negative stories, not actual fact or ability, that’s holding us back. 

My Yoga Story

Photo credit: Elijah Northen

I’ve been running my yoga business and website for several months now, and I’ve been working on sharing my yoga knowledge, thoughts, goals, plans, and of course, the classes I’m teaching. But I realized I’ve started a bit in the middle of the story - I’ve started from the point of becoming a yoga instructor, and not from the point of becoming a yoga student (though please know, even as instructors, we’re still always students, and we’re always learning). I haven’t yet shared my full yoga journey, how and why I got to this point that I’m at now. I first began taking yoga approximately 14 years ago, so my journey is a bit long and winding, but I promise it’s all relevant. It has influenced my life and my path tremendously, and it has certainly influenced the direction in which I want to grow my yoga business, and so I felt it important to share.  

My yoga journey began at a time of major transition in my life. In March 2006, at the age of 26, I quit my full time job to open my own travel planning business. I was renting a storefront in Collingswood, NJ, not far from the town where I lived at the time. I was married, and the plan was that we would live on my (then) husband’s salary, and to put what I made in my business into savings until my business took off. We’d been putting my salary from my job into savings anyway, so this seemed like a solid plan. In January 2007, my husband and I separated and shortly after began the divorce process. Two weeks later, I learned that the owner of  the building where I’d had my new business for less than a year was selling the building, and had a cash offer for the full asking price. The prospective buyer wanted to terminate my lease and put a family member’s business in place. Within the span of 8 months, I was about to lose my marriage, my home (my ex husband stayed in it, I moved out), and my brand new storefront for my business (not to mention my health and life insurance and basically any steady income). The owner of the building was understanding, and seeing as I had been a good tenant so far, gave me “right of first refusal”. My family and I (but really them) had two weeks to come up with the full asking price in cash in order to salvage at least this piece of the situation. I, to this day, am not entirely sure how we (they) did it, but they managed to, and I was able to stay in my storefront. 

I spent six days a week in that storefront, and I loved running it. I had followed my dream and I was incredibly proud of myself, and what I was building. Still, I was now living alone, working for and by myself, and had stepped away from the majority of my friends group, as they’d been couple friends with my ex-husband. Suffice it to say, life was rocky, and I was questioning a lot about myself, and I was feeling a major lack of connection and community.

A few months later, I noticed that a yoga studio was opening almost directly across from my storefront. I had gone to undergrad for Kinesiology/Exercise Science, had spent five years working in corporate fitness full time, and was generally active, but I had yet to try yoga. I was intrigued, and felt like it might offer a missing piece to my overall wellness that I felt was lacking. I was also terrified. And since I’m being honest, I’m going to be totally honest - I was most terrified that I wouldn’t be able to be quiet for 60-90 minutes during class - for an introvert, I’m talkative, and as I’ve explained, was a bit company-deprived. I pictured sitting there, not able to talk to my neighbors, 1000s of thoughts swirling in my head (because they tend to do that, especially during a rough time in one’s life), and I truly thought: I don’t know if I can do it. I also pictured everyone else doing perfect yoga sequences and me falling over my feet, not being experienced. Neither of these felt super appealing to someone who was already feeling lost and struggling with self-esteem and confidence. But still, I was drawn to it. 

I emailed the owners of the soon-to-be-open studio, and I introduced myself by way of being their neighboring business across the street that was also new(ish) to the area. They were super welcoming and friendly and encouraging. We built up a rapport. I felt a little more comfortable. It was still probably a year before I finally, tentatively, ventured across the street for an hour-long gentle class. I explained that I was new. They made sure to make me feel comfortable. I don’t recall if I tripped over my feet (probably), but I do know that even if I did, nobody laughed at me. Or even stifled a laugh or looked away or anything of the like. There were yogis of all levels there. I didn’t feel out of place or silly. The focus on the breath and the movement calmed me, and I had no problem not talking for the 60 minutes (if you know me, you know this is an exceptional feat). In fact, I enjoyed the time to connect with my body and breath and, wordlessly, with the others in the room. For the first time since my marriage broke up, and truthfully probably even before that, I felt connected. 

I continued to take classes, eventually trying vinyasa and yin and kundalini and basically every class they offered. Pretty soon I was going three times a week. I made friends. Like “outside of the studio” friends. Yoga offered me a place, and a process, to connect with myself and with others, to believe in myself, to grow my confidence and courage and self-esteem. To find a community. 

Fast forward to 2013. Lots of life happened in the meantime (that was super important to me, but isn’t necessarily that I need to write about here). After running my business for seven years, I did eventually have to sell my storefront - not my business, the building - but by then had established clients, so the building itself didn’t feel as essential. This time it was a business decision, not a decision someone was making for me.  I’d moved into Philadelphia and gotten a part time job to supplement my income. I liked the job and my coworkers, but I worked on a different floor than everyone else, and didn’t have a ton of interaction except within my immediate group. Once again, I was feeling a loss of connection. I admittedly hadn’t been as great at going to yoga (I don’t have any great excuses, honestly, I let myself slack), though I tried to keep up with it at home. One day, I was sitting at my part time job at the front desk, when who walked in but the owner of “my’ yoga studio in Collingswood. We hugged, and she explained that she taught a weekly yoga class at my office on Wednesdays.. I’d heard mention of there being yoga offered, but I had no idea it was her who taught it. It was enough of a kick in the rear to get me to clear my schedule Wednesdays from 4-5PM. I started taking yoga at my office  weekly. I got to connect with other coworkers - other yoga-loving coworkers at that - and we got to interact in a non-business-officey way. I felt myself connecting with myself more. Connecting with others. Even if for just one hour a week, I had this community.  Several years in, my original teacher had to give up the class, but in her place was another amazing instructor from the same studio. “My” studio. We continued to practice together weekly for the next several years. 

Fast forward to 2018. More life happened much of it exciting. Still, I was struggling. I no longer worked at this office, and missed the comradery of my yoga group. I was also going through a lot of personal stuff, struggling with finding my place in the world once again, struggling to connect with myself and my purpose.  I was again feeling a lack of community, of connection. I was (and am still) in touch with the second teacher that taught at my office. She posted that the studio, “my” studio, was taking sign ups for yoga teacher training They’d offered it for many years, and I’d just never felt the time was right. This time, something made me fill out the application. I got accepted to the YTT program and our first weekend of teacher training started the weekend after my 39th birthday. This felt serendipitous to me - I was going to spend the last year of my 30s coming full circle, doing yoga teacher training in the studio (though the physical location has moved down the street) where I first began my yoga journey all those years ago.  For the third time in 14 years, yoga was bringing me back to myself. It was connecting me to me, and to a community of some of the most beautiful souls that I’ve ever met, which I desperately needed. It helped me believe in myself, my abilities, my capabilities. It showed me possibilities and gave me hope. It still continues to every day. 

Over the past 14 years or so, yoga has offered me what I haven’t known how to offer myself. It has helped me through some of the worst times with my mood cycling disorder and my other chronic illnesses. It has helped me through personal and life struggles. It has helped me through a several-decade long battle with body image, not because of how it’s changed my body, but because it’s helped me see the beauty in what my body does for me, in what it is and does instead of what it isn’t and doesn’t,  in how connecting my breath to movement of my body in yoga, I have been able to get through so much.

I graduated Yoga Teacher Training in May 2019. I knew when I started teacher training that I wanted to teach (not all that go through training do), and to use yoga to help others. I want to use yoga as a bridge (no pun intended - bridge is also a yoga pose) to reach those who may be struggling to find connection, either with themselves or with a community. I want others to be able to experience the belief in self, the personal (internal) strength and quiet confidence that a yoga practice can foster over time. I want to reach those who might feel the nerves and fear I felt the first time I signed up for a class, who might think they aren't flexible or active or strong enough for yoga, to help them see that none of that matters, because they are enough just as they are. I want to bring yoga to those who might be, as I was all those years ago, afraid of literally or figuratively falling over their own feet. I want  to utilize yoga to give back, through yoga benefit programs and through helping others, as yoga has given me so much. Most of all, I want to make yoga available in a way that people can experience it not just a practice, but as a process, and to help them to feel how, with time, it can extend far beyond what you do on the mat. 

My Theme Words As I Step Into My 40th Year

As you undoubtedly know by now, because I've been posting about it regularly on every platform for approximately the last month, I'll be turning 40 in less than a week. I've been reading quite a bit about choosing theme words for the year, and while I know this feels like something traditionally done at New Year, entering into a new decade of my life seemed like as good a time as any to think about where I want to focus for the upcoming year. Plus, setting these focuses in September allows me to take the New Year, if I choose to use it as a marker like so many do, to assess where I am, and to make any adjustments I feel I want or need. Some people choose one theme word, but life right now (and always) seems so multi-dimensional, and I've got numerous areas in which I'm working to grow and refocus, that I thought I'd pick four. Turns out, I ended up choosing five (listed/described below in no particular order except the one in which they came into my head, which we all know is generally haphazard). Also, I didn't stick to a certain word type (noun, verb, etc). I simply chose what felt appropriate.

1. Intentional. The number of times I find myself checking my social media, getting distracted by something unimportant, letting my mind become a runaway train into the land of "what if" and negative thoughts and so much else, without even realizing it, is a bit startling. I'll suddenly pause and realize my actions/tasks/thoughts are far from where I planned them to be. So many times on the drive to work or walking my dog, I don't recall how I got there. To clarify, I'm not sleep-driving or sleep-dog walking. I'm simply not noticing. Yes, I'm noticing the cars moving or stopping in front of me, I'm noticing my dog stop and sit at the corner and making sure it's clear before we cross. I'm noticing enough to be safe, but I'm not sinking into it. It could be a beautiful morning, sun rising over my neighborhood, flowers blooming, gentle breeze, birds chirping while I'm walking my dog, and I'm going over something in my head or planning my to do list or revisiting an argument or disagreement I had with someone from last week or stressing out over something I can do nothing about at 5:30AM while walking my dog. So my goal is to be more intentional. In my actions, in my thoughts, in my interactions with people, in my being present in the world around me. Social media checking is fine (and beneficial to my business, even). But I don't want to look up from twitter or IG or FB 30 minutes later and not even recall why I went onto the app in the first place. And I DEFINITELY don't want to be doing this while in the presence of friends, family, etc, who are actually there with me, being ignored while I absentmindedly scroll.

2. Growth. This year is a growth year for me in numerous ways. I'm growing my yoga business. I'm growing in the writing community, having just self-published my first novel. I'm also focusing on growing personally in numerous ways. I'm working on finding my voice and using it where appropriate (but not to drown out others). I'm working on recognizing dependent and codependent tendencies (revisited shortly here), and adjusting course. I'm learning how to work through parts of growth that can be difficult, triggering, painful. I'm working at recognizing my own faults and missteps and mistakes, and taking accountability, while learning NOT to take accountability and responsibility for other peoples thoughts, words, or actions,which are the responsibility of them, not me (in other words, I'm accountable for me, you're accountable for you).

3. Non-dependence. I'm not sure this is actually a word, either with or without the hyphen. Originally, I had this as independence, but that doesn't really explain what I'm aiming for. I already have a pretty independent spirit. I am generally not a conformist, I don't do things because they're "cool" or everyone else is doing them. I'm not easily swayed in my opinions or beliefs (other than about myself, and I'm working on that). But, as I mentioned above, codependency (i.e. supporting negative patterns with others by trying to 'make everything better', basically) and dependency (believing I'm not good enough/worthy/capable/don't know enough/others know better and therefore stepping aside and letting others take control, make decisions, etc) are both issues I've struggled with for years. So I'm focusing on NOT being those things. On learning those patterns and habits and how I get caught in them, and breaking those cycles. Hence, non-dependence. And to be clear, this doesn't mean I never accept help. We all have strengths and areas we're not as strong. I'm not going to refuse to let someone taller than me get something off of a high shelf when I can't reach because I "don't want to depend on anyone." We should all have people we can rely and depend upon when needed. It's about not doing so at the detriment to myself and others.

4. Reconnecting. Connecting is also my monthly theme for my yoga and wellness business, and you can read about that in my blog post discussing why I chose it. But basically, I've become disconnected. My introverted and social anxious nature lends itself to disconnecting from others. Depression doesn't help when it tells me that people don't really want to be around me, that I'm a burden, that people don't actually like me and that they're just including me or talking to me to be nice. So I'm working on reconnecting with others, and also, examining those connections. Are all the people I've been connected to still the people that I should be connected to? Am I hanging on to situations, people, that I don't need to, that aren't serving me (or them)? Am I staying around in groups, organizations, etc just because they're familiar? So I'm doing some re-examining. I'm also working on reconnecting with myself. Knowing who I truly am, deep down. Focusing on my core values, my personality type, my beliefs, my path and goals and dreams, my innate self, and getting back to that person. I'm working on not allowing fear or worry or others' opinions or values change that (or at least trying not to, as best as I can). I'm learning to be me again. And finally, I'm working on reconnecting with the world around me, especially in nature, through being present. Connecting to the earth, grounding.

5. Letting go. This was a late add, but I realized how important it was. I have held onto SO much. Guilt, shame, self-blame, self-loathing, regret, negative beliefs about myself, fears, that do not serve me. They often aren't even based in reality, in facts, they're stories I tell myself. And I can't ever move forward, ever grow, if I can't let these pieces go.

And so, as I cross the threshold from my 30s to my 40s, these are the theme words I'll be stepping into. These are the areas in which I plan to focus. They are not, of course, the only things I'll focus on, but they will help to guide me when I feel lost or confused or am questioning myself in my decisions and path. They'll help me to guide myself, both when I come to important crossroads, as well as while I move through every day life.

Thanks for taking this wild ride of life with me. Here's to 40 more years!

Cousin’s wedding in MN, so many early morning yoga/post yoga coffees, many amazing concerts, Overnight Walk & trip to Boston, the best shirt I own courtesy of a close friend, beach trips w/Grace, YTT, Yoga graduation. Just a few of the many amazing memories from my 39th year.

Don't Be Afraid To Take Up Space

In yoga, we often remind people that it’s OK to take up space. In fact, we encourage that. On the mat, this often means making your Warrior stance wider, or letting your arms and legs reach to the edges of the mat (or beyond if there’s room!) in Savasana. The idea behind taking up space on your mat, in addition to making sure you have enough room for proper alignment within the pose, is that as humans, we often tend to shrink ourselves. As we walk through life, literally and figuratively, we’re constantly excusing ourselves or apologizing for the space we occupy, worried that we could be in someone’s (again, literal or figurative) way. We apologize for our differing perspectives and way of doing things if someone criticizes or critiques us. We apologize for being different in general. We apologize for asking clarifying questions or making requests that we have every right to make (be honest, how many times have you started communication with “sorry to bother you but…”? I know I do this constantly).  We apologize for anything that could be a minor inconvenience to someone else, even if the outcome is significantly higher stakes for us. Not only that, but when we aren’t apologizing, we’re making ourselves small. We say things like “I was just wondering if it would be OK if maybe…..”. Instead of owning that we have every right to make a decision or a request, we ask timidly ask permission, and even feel bad about asking permission. 

I’ve also noticed, at least in myself, this not wanting to take up space coming up in unexpected places. The other day, I noticed that when I write my affirmations each morning (and I do this every morning), for some reason, I try to squeeze each affirmation onto a single line, smushing my writing and abbreviating words to try to make it fit. Here I am, doing these affirmations for big dreams and goals that I hope to make into a reality, and I’m shrinking them onto one line, because …. I don’t know why. Sure, maybe it takes up an extra line or two and eventually that means needing a new notebook faster, and that could mean more paper aka trees. But realistically, one affirmation going onto the next line here or there is not going to cause a catastrophic impact. I’m simply used to trying not to take up space - even when writing out my biggest, boldest goals and dreams. I’m taking an action that is supposed to make me feel confident and in my space of personal power and I’m physically constraining it to take up less room. 

When we are afraid to take up space, literally or figuratively, whether in our speech or in our notebooks, in our requests , on our mat, when walking down the sidewalk (we have the same right as everyone else to be on that sidewalk and yet we constantly apologize for our presence in a crowd), or when we’re doing whatever we’re doing, it feeds the idea, even subconsciously, that we’re less. That we’re not worthy of that space.  Or that others are more deserving of it. But we are worthy. 100 percent. We are as worthy and deserving of occupying our space as anyone else. 

And so, I encourage you to take up space. Start small. If you take yoga, spread out on your mat a little more. When you write that email, notice if you can take out phrases like “just wondering” and “if possibly” and the like. For me, I’ve stopped trying to scrunch the dreams and goals of my morning affirmations onto one line to take up less space on the page. If it feels uncomfortable, I understand. I’m right there with you. But this month, my theme is all about getting uncomfortable in ways that help me grow. And as difficult as it can be to push past that fear, that worry, that feeling (it shows up in numerous ways) that so often holds me back, I know that each time I do this, I’m getting closer to where I want to be. 

My dog Grace, who’s never afraid to take up space on the mat (even when it’s not technically hers).