I (Melissa Garvey) am allergic to everything, including dust, pollen, dog/cat dander, mold, grass, and cockroach poop. I grew up with a tissue in hand, if not stuffed up one nostril for convenience. Pranayama? Forget it…unless I have some Claritin-D on hand.
I’ve tried everything to get to the bottom of my year-round allergies, including dairy-free diets, allergy shots, a cocktail of medications, mattress casings, air filters, relentless cleaning, and, of course, the neti pot. Nothing worked.
Things got worse. I thought fatigue, moods, itchy skin, and occasional stomach cramps were my lot in life. But then I tried something new, something I never thought I could do. I gave up gluten.
I expected it to be another one of my crazy experiments that crashed and burned. But within 24 hours I felt the fog begin to lift. I’ll spare you the details of my experimentation, testing, lab results, blah blah blah. Suffice it to say my last allergy attack was October 6, 2009. Today is January 30, 2010, and I can breathe.
This post makes it sound like a dramatic transformation, and it is, but it didn’t always seem that way. It’s been a gradual, trial and error process. But I finally found my allergy cure. I don’t take allergy medication, I live with a cat, I don’t have to sleep with a tissue in my hand, and I make a mean batch of gluten-free chocolate chip cookies.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Let’s Get Real About Gurus
Most of you know by now that I’m not that big on gurus in the traditional sense, as in actual human, spiritual, nearly god-like teacher. I am, however, a fan of the English translation of the Sanskrit word guru: “s/he who is heavy, weighty.”
Remember the yoga teacher who said that Tantra helps you get the juice out of all of life, rather than just on the yoga mat? She also taught me a bit about what it means to learn from the guru or “weighty one.” She said that in every situation, she looks for the person, object, conversation, etc. that carries the most weight. It’s hard to explain, but think about “the force is strong with that one” kinda thing from Star Wars.
My guru for the day showed up on my metro ride into work this morning while listing to Karen Armstrong’s The Case for God. My ears first perked up when she said, “It is always dangerous to isolate religious ideas from contemporary thought.” That can be so neatly applied to the yoga world. For example, we can’t expect the Yoga Sutras to come to life without considering its cultural and historical context and ushering its grains of truth into modern-day life. (Look at extreme fundamentalism in both the East and West for examples of how failing to do this can get dangerous.)
Taking it a step further, Armstrong quotes a tenth century philosopher:
Remember the yoga teacher who said that Tantra helps you get the juice out of all of life, rather than just on the yoga mat? She also taught me a bit about what it means to learn from the guru or “weighty one.” She said that in every situation, she looks for the person, object, conversation, etc. that carries the most weight. It’s hard to explain, but think about “the force is strong with that one” kinda thing from Star Wars.
My guru for the day showed up on my metro ride into work this morning while listing to Karen Armstrong’s The Case for God. My ears first perked up when she said, “It is always dangerous to isolate religious ideas from contemporary thought.” That can be so neatly applied to the yoga world. For example, we can’t expect the Yoga Sutras to come to life without considering its cultural and historical context and ushering its grains of truth into modern-day life. (Look at extreme fundamentalism in both the East and West for examples of how failing to do this can get dangerous.)
Taking it a step further, Armstrong quotes a tenth century philosopher:
“The seeker of truth should shun no sciences, scorn no book, nor cling fanatically to a single creed.”Are you guilty of clinging to ancient texts and “real” yoga? Let those practices evolve and lead you to the truth—the guru—that’s all around you. Open your eyes.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
What if samsara isn’t all that bad?
Samsara is the root of suffering, right? It’s the conditioned existence of birth, life, death, and so on that our minds are glued to and afraid to let go of. But what if the key to letting go of attachment is not turning away from samsara, but diving into it instead?
When I was growing up in a fundamentalist Christian family (don’t worry, we’ve all recovered!), I was constantly encouraged to separate myself from the world. It was so extreme that I have a gaping cultural black hole that spans most of the 90s. I listened to Christian rock bands instead of Pearl Jam and watched G-rated movies instead of Forrest Gump. Once I reached my 20s and finished cautiously pulling away from the church, I felt like I was living in a whole new world. I was giddy with the amount of undiscovered experiences and concepts waiting for me. And, ironically, my spiritual life blossomed like never before.
In his Tantra book, Georg Feuerstein gives me reason to associate samsara with the same world I was previously encouraged to deny:
When I was growing up in a fundamentalist Christian family (don’t worry, we’ve all recovered!), I was constantly encouraged to separate myself from the world. It was so extreme that I have a gaping cultural black hole that spans most of the 90s. I listened to Christian rock bands instead of Pearl Jam and watched G-rated movies instead of Forrest Gump. Once I reached my 20s and finished cautiously pulling away from the church, I felt like I was living in a whole new world. I was giddy with the amount of undiscovered experiences and concepts waiting for me. And, ironically, my spiritual life blossomed like never before.
In his Tantra book, Georg Feuerstein gives me reason to associate samsara with the same world I was previously encouraged to deny:
The Sanskrit language has a number of words that denote “world,” but none captures this endless recycling of human experience through the mechanism of time more strikingly than the term samsara.He goes on to say that samsara literally translates as “that which flows together.” I like that a lot better than “conditioned existence.” I’m still not clear as to how Tantra practitioners propose to transcend the suffering caused by attachment to samsara, but Feuerstein says it goes beyond mere escape. I have a feeling that it involves something akin to diving, swimming, or surfing into samsara.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Tip-Toeing into Tantra
My growing curiosity about Tantra Yoga finally led me to a good book that explains the tradition – Georg Feuerstein’s Tantra: The Path of Ecstasy, which I first asked my readers about last July. Thank you to those of you who recommended it because it’s exactly what I was looking for.
So far I’ve learned that Tantra masters believed enlightenment is attainable even in the worst moral and social circumstances. No monestary? No problem. It simply requires a radical, revised approach to liberation.
That makes sense. My modern life doesn’t allow for hours of daily meditation and asana. In fact, when I have vacation time and spend extra hours on yogic practices, I ultimately experience a horrible letdown when I return to my normal work schedule. It’s almost as if I get cut off from my source of connection, contentment, and bliss.
A yoga teacher once told me that Tantra helps you get “the juice” out of all of life instead of just your time on the mat or the meditation cushion. I’m always up for more juice. And here’s the part that makes me think Tantra and I are going to get along just fine:
So far I’ve learned that Tantra masters believed enlightenment is attainable even in the worst moral and social circumstances. No monestary? No problem. It simply requires a radical, revised approach to liberation.
That makes sense. My modern life doesn’t allow for hours of daily meditation and asana. In fact, when I have vacation time and spend extra hours on yogic practices, I ultimately experience a horrible letdown when I return to my normal work schedule. It’s almost as if I get cut off from my source of connection, contentment, and bliss.
A yoga teacher once told me that Tantra helps you get “the juice” out of all of life instead of just your time on the mat or the meditation cushion. I’m always up for more juice. And here’s the part that makes me think Tantra and I are going to get along just fine:
To help humanity in the kali-yuga [aka dark age], the Tantric adepts modified the old teachings and created a new repertoire of practices. Their orientation can be summed up in two words: Anything goes. Or, at least, almost anything.That sounds like my kind of tradition. I think I'll read more.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The Case for Chakras: A Logical Explanation
I’ve been having an unusual amount of thought-provoking conversations with my husband lately. The most recent one started when he accused me of having a “mushy soul” (translation, he thinks I’m too sensitive). Naturally, I took offense and explained that I don’t have a mushy soul. I have a mushy third chakra, which is alternately excessive and deficient.
That’s where I lost him. So, I sighed and launched into the following explanation of why I think it’s logical and useful to believe in chakras:
First, I don’t think there’s a ball of light sitting on my navel where my third chakra is supposed to be. I see the chakra system as yet another way to look at what’s going on in my body and my mind. It’s a scientific fact that emotions and experiences affect the body. Somebody hurts your feelings and you cry. You hear a strange noise in the middle of the night and your cortisol levels spike, causing your heart rate to increase. Doesn’t it make sense then that certain experiences and emotions can have common ways of manifesting in the body? And could those common ways of manifesting be exactly what the chakra system is attempting to describe?
It’s rare that I take time to explain why I think the chakra system is worth paying attention to. It’s easier to take shortcuts and talk about balls of light—sort of like saying “God” instead of explaining an eternal larger-than-life kind of concept or being you’re referring to. My husband understood and stopped rolling his eyes when I explained the chakras logically, although he still thinks Western medicine is entirely more practical and to the point. I disagree.
We did agree that I do have an excessive third chakra as manifested in stubbornness, as well as a deficient third chakra as manifested in my tendency to cry when people so much as look at me cross-eyed. With his comments directed appropriately to my chakras, he then revised his earlier offensive statement and deemed my soul soft and vibrant. I think I’ll take that.
That’s where I lost him. So, I sighed and launched into the following explanation of why I think it’s logical and useful to believe in chakras:
First, I don’t think there’s a ball of light sitting on my navel where my third chakra is supposed to be. I see the chakra system as yet another way to look at what’s going on in my body and my mind. It’s a scientific fact that emotions and experiences affect the body. Somebody hurts your feelings and you cry. You hear a strange noise in the middle of the night and your cortisol levels spike, causing your heart rate to increase. Doesn’t it make sense then that certain experiences and emotions can have common ways of manifesting in the body? And could those common ways of manifesting be exactly what the chakra system is attempting to describe?
It’s rare that I take time to explain why I think the chakra system is worth paying attention to. It’s easier to take shortcuts and talk about balls of light—sort of like saying “God” instead of explaining an eternal larger-than-life kind of concept or being you’re referring to. My husband understood and stopped rolling his eyes when I explained the chakras logically, although he still thinks Western medicine is entirely more practical and to the point. I disagree.
We did agree that I do have an excessive third chakra as manifested in stubbornness, as well as a deficient third chakra as manifested in my tendency to cry when people so much as look at me cross-eyed. With his comments directed appropriately to my chakras, he then revised his earlier offensive statement and deemed my soul soft and vibrant. I think I’ll take that.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Ahhh...Freak Out!
I didn't make time for asana yesterday, but fortunately, situations conspired to offer me an opportunity to practice real-life yoga. Just before walking out the door for work, I noticed that my sun room on the back of the house is sinking back and to the right, right about where the radiator sits.
My typical reaction to these types of discoveries is to call my husband, freak out, and then get mad when he reacts by inserting his fingers into his ears and saying "la la la la la." It's really a very stressful sequence of events.
So, I paused, did not call my husband, and called my mom for a freak out instead—a slight improvement? She talked me into dealing with the situation one step at a time. I now have a leveler sitting in one spot on the floor with a black line drawn over the bubble's position. If it moves in the next few days, I know to proceed with freaking out...uh, I mean respond appropriately.
The yoga of my inconvenience is this: I only freaked out when my mind got carried away forecasting possible futures. For example, it terrifies me to think of the back of the house falling off or having to use our entire savings to prevent or fix a structural catastrophe. I returned to a calm (well, calmer) state of mind when I remembered to stay in the present and ask myself "Is there anything happening right now that I can't handle?"
The answer was no. I can put a leveler on the floor. I can talk to my husband about logical next steps to keep us safe and prevent catastrophe. I can be here with my present situation. There's no need to waste energy dealing with the worst case scenario stories I've created. I'll deal with those when and if they happen.
What did you freak out about this week?
My typical reaction to these types of discoveries is to call my husband, freak out, and then get mad when he reacts by inserting his fingers into his ears and saying "la la la la la." It's really a very stressful sequence of events.
So, I paused, did not call my husband, and called my mom for a freak out instead—a slight improvement? She talked me into dealing with the situation one step at a time. I now have a leveler sitting in one spot on the floor with a black line drawn over the bubble's position. If it moves in the next few days, I know to proceed with freaking out...uh, I mean respond appropriately.
The yoga of my inconvenience is this: I only freaked out when my mind got carried away forecasting possible futures. For example, it terrifies me to think of the back of the house falling off or having to use our entire savings to prevent or fix a structural catastrophe. I returned to a calm (well, calmer) state of mind when I remembered to stay in the present and ask myself "Is there anything happening right now that I can't handle?"
The answer was no. I can put a leveler on the floor. I can talk to my husband about logical next steps to keep us safe and prevent catastrophe. I can be here with my present situation. There's no need to waste energy dealing with the worst case scenario stories I've created. I'll deal with those when and if they happen.
What did you freak out about this week?
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Cellulite Trumps Meditation
Ever wonder what your body might look like after a year-long yoga teacher training program? September 2008 through August 2009 I did a 60-90 minute asana session a minimum of 5 days per week as part of my ytt program. (Okay, I might not have met my quota a couple weeks out of that year.)
It was inevitable. Asana 5 days per week meant gym time maybe 2 days per week. I viewed it as a challenge to accept my body as is and calmly watched as it morphed into yogic—not gym standard—perfection.
Come September 2009, I was meditating in preparation for a flow-style asana session beside a full-length mirror. I happened to glance sideways and stopped mid-bliss to digest the disturbing reality staring me in the face. Freshly formed cellulite was creeping half way down my left thigh!
Enough of that experiment. I’ve discovered that my body looks and feels best with a balance of asana and more vigorous exercise like swimming and weight lifting.
What makes your body happy?
It was inevitable. Asana 5 days per week meant gym time maybe 2 days per week. I viewed it as a challenge to accept my body as is and calmly watched as it morphed into yogic—not gym standard—perfection.
Come September 2009, I was meditating in preparation for a flow-style asana session beside a full-length mirror. I happened to glance sideways and stopped mid-bliss to digest the disturbing reality staring me in the face. Freshly formed cellulite was creeping half way down my left thigh!
Enough of that experiment. I’ve discovered that my body looks and feels best with a balance of asana and more vigorous exercise like swimming and weight lifting.
What makes your body happy?
Monday, January 11, 2010
I Spy Versus Hot and Cold
I finally stumbled onto a new yoga book that piqued my interest—The Secret Power of Yoga: A Woman’s Guide to the Heart and Spirit of the Yoga Sutras by Nischala Joy Devi. It’s a woman’s interpretation of the Yoga Sutras. Hallelujah!
One of the key differences in Devi’s interpretation of the sutras is reframing them into positive rather than negative language. For example, nonstealing becomes generosity, and bramacharya (continence or chastity) becomes moderation. I respond much better to positive feedback than negative commands, so I expect this version of the sutras to resonate more deeply with me than the classical interpretation.
On the other hand, I understand where the non-whatever language originated. In their attempt to explain Brahman (the ultimate reality), the ancient sages believed they could only say what Brahman was not. It was impossible to describe Brahman with words. To put it simply, they took the “I Spy” approach.
One of the key differences in Devi’s interpretation of the sutras is reframing them into positive rather than negative language. For example, nonstealing becomes generosity, and bramacharya (continence or chastity) becomes moderation. I respond much better to positive feedback than negative commands, so I expect this version of the sutras to resonate more deeply with me than the classical interpretation.
On the other hand, I understand where the non-whatever language originated. In their attempt to explain Brahman (the ultimate reality), the ancient sages believed they could only say what Brahman was not. It was impossible to describe Brahman with words. To put it simply, they took the “I Spy” approach.
Ancient sage: “I spy Brahman.”Devi takes the “Hot and Cold” approach. She gives the reader positive clues about the secrets of the Yoga Sutras. I’ll let you know how the game goes.
Lowly monk: “Is it a he?”
Ancient sage: “Nope, it's not a he.”
Lowly monk: “Is it a she?”
Ancient sage: “Nope, it's not a she.”
Sunday, January 10, 2010
At War With the Week
For those of you worried about me becoming another snarky yoga blogger, have no fear. Tonight my mom asked me what “hollow your belly” means, and I launched into a not-necessarily-solicited, lengthy explanation of the bandhas. I’m still into it.
I broke out my computer tonight to share a mini Sunday night insight that dawned on me while I sat knitting and fretting about the impending start of another week. Yes, the insight involves Tara Brach again. Tara says over and over that we spend so much time and energy being “at war with how it is.” Already I’m tensing against getting up early tomorrow and digging my heels into my toasty living room wishing I could stay here all week instead of braving the cold and meeting my next deadline at work. I’m not saying I should be joyously anticipating the responsibilities of the week. But it’s a waste of energy to be at war with the week. Part of what I hate about the week is running out of energy by the end of it.
By the way, my husband asked me what makes Tara Brach all that. My response is that she has a knack for articulating something I already know inside.
I broke out my computer tonight to share a mini Sunday night insight that dawned on me while I sat knitting and fretting about the impending start of another week. Yes, the insight involves Tara Brach again. Tara says over and over that we spend so much time and energy being “at war with how it is.” Already I’m tensing against getting up early tomorrow and digging my heels into my toasty living room wishing I could stay here all week instead of braving the cold and meeting my next deadline at work. I’m not saying I should be joyously anticipating the responsibilities of the week. But it’s a waste of energy to be at war with the week. Part of what I hate about the week is running out of energy by the end of it.
By the way, my husband asked me what makes Tara Brach all that. My response is that she has a knack for articulating something I already know inside.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Top 10 Signs You'll End Up in a Yoga Cult
As a follow-up to my last post and last night’s CNN special on the investigation into Dahn Yoga as an alleged cult, I present a revised list excerpted from the book When God Becomes a Drug by Father Leo Booth. If 3 or more symptoms apply to you, you might have a problem.*
The Symptoms of1. Inability to think, doubt, or question information and authority [think guru and/or Iyengar Yoga alignment principles]
2. Black-and-white, simplistic thinking [see example here]
3. Shame-based belief that you aren’t good enough or you aren’t doing it [i.e. an asana or meditation] right
4. Magical thinking that God yoga will fix you
5. Scrupulosity: rigid obsessive adherence to rules, codes of ethics, or guidelines [strict adherence to yamas, niyamas, and 4am practices count]
6. Compulsive praying practicing, going to church or crusades workshops or retreats, quoting scripture the Bhagavad Gita
7. Unrealistic financial contributions [teacher training programs in excess of $2,000 count]
8. Compulsive overeating and/or excessive fasting
9. Progressive detachment from the real world, isolation, breakdown of relationship
10. Trancelike state or religious yoga high, wearing a glazed happy face
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Losing My Practice: A Case of Existential Angst
For 4 years now, yoga has been my spiritual practice. It’s been an intriguing tradition that makes me fall head over heels, deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole. But lately asana has been losing its charm.
I’m finally realizing that enlightenment does not lay in one more yoga book, a handstand in the middle of the room, or a year of daily pranayama practice. In fact, I could quit asana practice and experience every bit as deep of a spiritual life as I’ve experienced over the past 4 years. Yoga isn’t magic. Even Buddha said there are 84,000 dharma gateways (meaning spiritual practices) that can help to face you toward freedom.
This is a weird place to be in my yoga journey. I don't plan to quit. Yoga points me toward truth and helps my body age gracefully. But I think I’m starting to put it in its rightful place, off the pedestal. Can anybody relate?
I’m finally realizing that enlightenment does not lay in one more yoga book, a handstand in the middle of the room, or a year of daily pranayama practice. In fact, I could quit asana practice and experience every bit as deep of a spiritual life as I’ve experienced over the past 4 years. Yoga isn’t magic. Even Buddha said there are 84,000 dharma gateways (meaning spiritual practices) that can help to face you toward freedom.
This is a weird place to be in my yoga journey. I don't plan to quit. Yoga points me toward truth and helps my body age gracefully. But I think I’m starting to put it in its rightful place, off the pedestal. Can anybody relate?
Monday, January 4, 2010
Why Yogis Can Be So Catty
In a yoga rant posted not so long ago I bemoaned how yogis tend to criticize everybody except themselves and every other way of practicing except their own. I would now like to propose an explanation for that behavior with a simple metaphor: the prayer labyrinth.
I walked my first prayer labyrinth on Valentine’s Day 2009 at the National Cathedral. After settling into a not-so-slow-that-it’s-annoying, yet not-so-speedy-that-I-appear-flippant pace, I began to observe my path. I felt at peace as I placed one socked foot in front of the other between the narrow lines of the labyrinth. It wasn’t too long before I came head-to-head with another walker who had already reached the center and was meandering her way back out of the labyrinth. I stepped to the side, bowed, and let her pass. As my path continued to twist and turn, I had to step aside several more times to make room for the walkers in neighboring paths. In fact, one walker in particular and I found ourselves pausing and bowing to each other every so many steps. Why, you ask? We were walking at the same pace. Slow walkers were a cinch to pass with a one-time step-bow maneuver, and fast walkers allowed me to meander peacefully in their wake. But walkers who kept the same pace as me invaded my space every 20 steps or so.
I think yogis bump heads so often because we’re on similar spiritual paths…or fitness paths depending on your perspective. Whatever the case, we’re on similar paths. I wish we could pause, bow, and move on instead of being so catty to each other.
I walked my first prayer labyrinth on Valentine’s Day 2009 at the National Cathedral. After settling into a not-so-slow-that-it’s-annoying, yet not-so-speedy-that-I-appear-flippant pace, I began to observe my path. I felt at peace as I placed one socked foot in front of the other between the narrow lines of the labyrinth. It wasn’t too long before I came head-to-head with another walker who had already reached the center and was meandering her way back out of the labyrinth. I stepped to the side, bowed, and let her pass. As my path continued to twist and turn, I had to step aside several more times to make room for the walkers in neighboring paths. In fact, one walker in particular and I found ourselves pausing and bowing to each other every so many steps. Why, you ask? We were walking at the same pace. Slow walkers were a cinch to pass with a one-time step-bow maneuver, and fast walkers allowed me to meander peacefully in their wake. But walkers who kept the same pace as me invaded my space every 20 steps or so.
I think yogis bump heads so often because we’re on similar spiritual paths…or fitness paths depending on your perspective. Whatever the case, we’re on similar paths. I wish we could pause, bow, and move on instead of being so catty to each other.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Accomplish New Year's Resolutions with Wise Effort
In my first post of the new year, I'd like to share some insights from my current favorite episode of Tara Brach's podcast: Wise Effort and Spiritual Freedom (September 23, 2009). But first, a confession—I have a major problem with consistency, as evidenced by the jarring stop-and-start pace of my blog posts and the speed with which I commit to and drop extracurricular activities. In 2009 alone I quit my job as community liaison with Yoga Journal began and quit a work-trade agreement with Boundless Yoga, became and backed out of being a vegetarian, and took an entire year to finish knitting one lousy scarf.
I think that the reason this episode of Tara Brach's podcast resonates so deeply with me is that she describes a type of effort I'm not used to accessing. I'm incredibly skilled at muscling my way through tasks that I'd rather not do—my 9 to 5 job, house work, walking my dogs in the snow...you get the picture. But to the extent that I exert myself by sheer force of will, I pay for it with an equal and opposite dose of fatigue and burn out.
What's the alternative? According to Tara Brach, it's wise effort—a purposeful energy that guides our actions. She further explains, "Unless we pause and investigate what's going on, we keep tumbling into the future being driven by habitual states of mind." Yep, that sums up how I spent 2009. I don't completely understand the difference between the two types of effort yet, but like most truths, it must be subtle, complicated, yet simple.
I don't remember if I had any New Year's resolutions last year. I probably said I wanted to write more, but certainly don't have anything to show for it. Well, here goes my shot at 2010. This year, I want to write every day after work. I always thought I'd use my yoga teacher training knowledge to be a better writer instead of actually leading asana classes. It's what I'm good at and enjoy most. I'm afraid to commit to writing a book, but I can at least commit to exploring writing a book in 2010. And finally, I'm committed to eating gluten free, soy free, and sesame seed free. I got tested for food allergies/intolerances and discovered the reason behind my stuffy nose, itchy skin, and stomach cramps. (No wonder a warm sesame oil massage didn't deliver the promised ayurvedic benefits and those soy burgers undermined my attempt at going veggie.)
What are your goals for 2010?
I think that the reason this episode of Tara Brach's podcast resonates so deeply with me is that she describes a type of effort I'm not used to accessing. I'm incredibly skilled at muscling my way through tasks that I'd rather not do—my 9 to 5 job, house work, walking my dogs in the snow...you get the picture. But to the extent that I exert myself by sheer force of will, I pay for it with an equal and opposite dose of fatigue and burn out.
What's the alternative? According to Tara Brach, it's wise effort—a purposeful energy that guides our actions. She further explains, "Unless we pause and investigate what's going on, we keep tumbling into the future being driven by habitual states of mind." Yep, that sums up how I spent 2009. I don't completely understand the difference between the two types of effort yet, but like most truths, it must be subtle, complicated, yet simple.
I don't remember if I had any New Year's resolutions last year. I probably said I wanted to write more, but certainly don't have anything to show for it. Well, here goes my shot at 2010. This year, I want to write every day after work. I always thought I'd use my yoga teacher training knowledge to be a better writer instead of actually leading asana classes. It's what I'm good at and enjoy most. I'm afraid to commit to writing a book, but I can at least commit to exploring writing a book in 2010. And finally, I'm committed to eating gluten free, soy free, and sesame seed free. I got tested for food allergies/intolerances and discovered the reason behind my stuffy nose, itchy skin, and stomach cramps. (No wonder a warm sesame oil massage didn't deliver the promised ayurvedic benefits and those soy burgers undermined my attempt at going veggie.)
What are your goals for 2010?
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