Leaning Into Curiosity In These Uncertain Times

This month my theme is fear, and while I didn’t intend to talk about it from the angle of COVID19 and the far reaching effects of what’s going on in our world right now, sometimes life throws you curve balls, and you change tactics. If I’m going to be totally honest, since we’re talking about fear, I’ll make a “confession”: curve balls are one of my biggest fears. (It’s probably obvious, but I’m talking about my fear of figurative curve balls here, not the baseball variety). I don’t like uncertainty. I’m a type A planner. I run a travel planning company, so I’ve literally made a living of planning. I have a Master’s in Marketing. Marketers plan stuff out. It’s also my general personality. I’m the type of person that likes to always know the next steps, and someone who always likes to be planning the next thing. When it boils down to it, I’m terrified of a lack of control.

I think this is the case for a lot of people, but for me, much of it comes from my chronic illnesses. I have a rapid mood cycling disorder called rapid cycling cyclothymia, which means that my moods can cycle between depression, hypomania, and “regular mood” (i.e. neither of the formers) as infrequently as every week or two, or as frequently as every few hours. When you literally feel like you have no idea what your brain is going to do in the next few hours and how it’s going to throw off your emotions, your attention span, your feelings about yourself (depression is not kind to self esteem, self worth, self confidence), it can be scary. In addition, I suffer from other chronic illnesses such as Migraine, arthritis, and GI issues that can flare up at any time. When your internal world, including your brain, often feel so uncertain and outside of your control, it can make that need for control of external circumstances feel even more crucial.

And yet right now, I am having to face that lack of control head on. (To be clear, we can’t actually ever control things outside of ourselves, especially other people, but often it feels like we at least have a little say in how things in our life work). Things have been changing daily, often hourly, and we’re having to acknowledge that we don’t know what lies ahead. Right now, things might be closed for two weeks. But that could change. It could be double that. It could be months. We don’t know. While I don’t currently work full time in either travel planning or yoga, these are both parts of my life and my livelihood. And yet I’m having to adjust. I cannot in good conscience encourage my clients to make new travel plans right now (I do almost exclusively overseas travel, much of it to Europe, so that’s more or less at a halt). I have cancelled my weekly Benefit Yoga Class for the next couple of weeks, because the health and safety of my participants and their loved ones (and my loved ones) is more important than the money I make from that, of course. And yet obviously, all of this affects my income, and our household income, and I have to adjust there. And we have no real idea how the course of things will go, how long these cancellations and changes to life and livelihood will last, or what the next change will be.

And I’ll be honest, all of this uncertainty is anxiety inducing. I’m not good with constant change, with not knowing how things will be one day to the next. My already anxious and cycling brain does not like it one bit. And of course, I’m controlling what I can by cancelling the classes and events I have the power to cancel, staying home unless necessary, finding other ways to connect with the people I care about. But I cannot control it all. So instead I’m leaning in to curiosity where I can. I’m curious to see how we’re able to be creative at my day job to get things done while working from home. It’s requiring lots of teamwork, and that’s actually really cool - different departments pulling together to make this all happen. In my yoga work, I’m exploring the idea of doing photo series of poses and flows that people can put together to create their own practice at home. I’m even considering videos, which truthfully terrifies me. But it’s forcing me to step out of my comfort zone and explore these options to help my students to develop a home practice, and to maybe help others to get some needed movement and stress relief/mindfulness. I’m learning, ever so slowly, to take things a day or two at a time. To have my main plan, and then some backup options in case the main plan doesn’t work out (even backup plans are tough for me, as I’m usually so set on my main plan). And I’m learning to acknowledge that even the back up to the back up plan may have to go out the window and I may end up in uncharted territory.

Is it my ideal? Not at all. Primarily because a global pandemic that puts people’s lives at risk is obviously never something I’d want, no matter how many lessons it teaches me. But I am learning a lot about myself in this. I’m learning what I, and so many others, are capable of (way more than we often think). So little by little, I’m being curious where I can, working to lean into the uncertainty instead of bristle against it and produce even further anxiety. It is the ultimate practice in the yama of Aparigraha, or letting go.

August Theme - Getting Uncomfortable

Happy August!  I don’t know about you, but it feels to me like this summer is flying by. I can’t believe it’s time for the August theme already, but it’s one that I’m excited about, in that  weird way that we feel excited when we push ourselves out of our comfort zone. I spent July focusing on being patient with the process, both in yoga and in life. August’s theme is a bit of an extension on that, because this idea of being in process feels super important and multifaceted to me, so I want to spend a little more time on it. This month, I’m focusing on getting uncomfortable. 

Before I continue, I’d like to make a few clarifications: when I say uncomfortable, I’m not talking about 1.) Pain/something that could be injuring you. Don’t force yourself into a yoga pose if it feels like you’re about to rupture something, and don’t force yourself into something in life if it feels like it’s legitimately not right. 2.) I’m not talking about letting other people make you uncomfortable (or making them uncomfortable, for that matter) in any type of inappropriate manner/way that feels wrong. I feel like this goes without saying, but I want to be really clear here. That is never OK. 

So with that disclaimer out of the way, I’m talking about the type of uncomfortable that pushes you out of complacency, or OK-ness. The kind of uncomfortable that makes you get really honest with yourself. The type that helps you grow, whether it’s in your physical yoga practice, or in life. The type of uncomfortable that we really know we should face but we put off because it’s easier not to, because letting ourselves stay comfortable doesn’t rock the boat and keeps everything status quo and it’s natural to want to stay comfortable.

Let me give an example: I am super uncomfortable speaking about my talents and skills. It feels like bragging, like I’m saying to people “look at me”, when I, in fact, strongly dislike having attention focused on me (exception: I’m fine when teaching, and I think that’s because I see it as guiding in a shared experience). But in order to grow my business, I have to tell people what I do. And I have to show them that I’m skilled at it. In the days of social media, I more or less have to post pictures, videos, evidence of me being good at it. I have to say (and show) “hey I have something valuable I can offer to you.” Whether it’s posting on social media to get people to come to classes, or it’s approaching a studio about a subbing or teaching position, or it’s posing my ideas for workplace benefit yoga to a company, I have to tell people about what I do and why I do it and how they could benefit from it.  Because I’m not going to get far in building a business that nobody knows about, or that doesn’t show potential clients the value that I can offer them. So I have to deal with getting uncomfortable. I have to share what I do, why I do it, how I do it, and my skill level/knowledge at it. I have to get past the self doubt and the impostor syndrome and the having attention on me (even from behind the screen of a computer or phone) because without clients, I won’t have a business. At least not one that’s sustainable as a part or full time endeavor. 

In yoga, it may be trusting yourself to try a new style, or a new studio, or a new pose (assuming you aren’t likely to hurt yourself or be in pain - please don’t hurt yourself!). In yoga teaching, it is, and I speak from experience here, teaching a pose you yourself aren’t super comfortable in. Yoga teacher confession time: I strongly dislike doing Ardha Chandrasana aka Half Moon pose. I might be the only yogi/instructor on the planet that doesn’t like this pose. It’s not because it scares me,or because I can’t do it. I can do the pose fine - not great, mind you, but fine. I just feel “off” in it. I don’t enjoy it. It’s like putting on an outfit that looks fine on the outside but it just feels eh and you can’t explain why. That’s how I feel about myself doing this pose. And, because of that, my natural inclination is to avoid teaching it because it’s easier to fill a classes with poses you personally love. But I also know that 1.) I can’t let my own feelings about poses limit what I offer my students and 2.) I’m never going to get more comfortable with it, practicing or teaching, if I don’t do it. So, my very first class after graduating teacher training what did I do? I put Ardha Chandrasana into my first standing flow. I made myself get uncomfortable. I made myself sit (or in this case, balance) with my uncomfortableness. And guess what? I’m OK. Nothing horrific happened. I got through it. Was it my finest pose instruction? Not sure, but probably not - it was also my first real class, so that makes it tough to tell. Was it passable. Yep!  Nobody ran out of the class or fell over due to unclear instructions or looked at me funny like I didn’t know what I was talking about. And I got past that first time of teaching the pose. I felt accomplished for doing so, and proud that I made myself go for it.

Life, and yoga, are like that. Often, it’s the poses and pieces that we most need to work on that make us the most uncomfortable. Because deep down, we know that when we avoid them, we avoid (potential) growth. And growth is scary, or at least it can be, because sometimes we have to be really honest with ourselves, and that’s not always the most fun time. 

Luckily, yoga offers us a place to practice pushing our comfort zone that’s relatively low stakes. Most poses have numerous variations and modifications that allow us to dip our toes in and get a feel for it. We have props to help us ease our way in when something feels physically or mentally uncomfortable (i.e. when we doubt ourselves, feel embarrassed, worry what we’ll look like, etc). There are beginner classes and gentle classes for those who may feel intimidated about trying yoga, or who may just want a less physically intense practice (note: I love gentle taking gentle classes myself!). And most of the time, whether you know it or not, there’s someone else in there also feeling uncomfortable, sharing in that same experience, even if neither of you know it. Maybe it’s even your instructor, teaching a pose they don’t love themselves, but value for their students.

So this month, I invite you to continue to be in the process, and to be patient with the process, by allowing yourself to sit (literally or figuratively, or possibly both) in the uncomfortable. Maybe it’s noticing when you avoid doing an unpleasant task by logging onto social media instead. Maybe it’s making excuses (oh I’m no good at that/don’t have the time/will do it later) when something makes you push beyond your usual comfort zone. Perhaps it’s an inkling to avoid teaching a pose you don’t love, or to suddenly need a bathroom break/drink of water/to step out of the room to cough/etc every time that pose comes up in a class you take. Whatever it is, take note. Even taking this pause, asking ‘why’, helps us to understand our uncomfortableness a little better. And the more we give voice to something uncomfortable, something scary, the less it becomes so.