Bye bye Bikram :(

Last Thursday or Friday, I drove the 20 minutes up the freeway to the Bikram studio, but there was weird traffic on the thoroughfare, making me late, which meant that I was locked out of class. And suddenly, in a moment, I had my answer: Bikram is not for me. My entire life is made up of appointments and being at the right place at the right time for other people. I need a place where I go just for myself, where I don't add stress to my day and life rushing (and no, I'm not in a place to dedicate more time over and above the already lengthy process).

My blood sugar has become so bad, and so unpredictable, that it isn't worth it. I had begun to imagine that my immune system was being activated, and perhaps even healing me, but my immune system being stimulated doesn't heal me. It hurts me. And I just have to accept that.

Thank you Bikram, for making me get in touch with my spine. Thank you for pushing me past limits I didn't know I had made for myself. Thank you for being a bad ass. You made me, for a brief period of time, feel like a bad ass too. Now I'll have to find other ways.

Peace out.

Breathe in...breathe out...

All 26 poses in the Bikram series :)

Oh man. I've really been struggling the past couple days. I've become overwhelmed by the amount of pain and suffering in the world, the constant horror stories I'm privy to. I know I can't save anyone. I know it's not my job to fix anyone else's problems. But it weighs on my soul in a way that feels like I can't breathe, and it almost feels better not to breathe, but then I get really really tired and I want to lie down and die.

This feeling makes sense to me because of Bikram. I've noticed that it often feels better in some poses to stop breathing, because breathing necessitates moving, and makes me more likely to fall down. But one has to breathe in order to get through the whole series. You might be able to get through a pose or two without breathing, but then you're too wiped out, and have to sit down. I get dizzy when I stop breathing. So I have to consciously breathe, six counts in, six counts out. Sometimes it hurts to breathe. I don't know why. But you have to breathe.

So breathing feels like dying, but won't actually kill you, and not breathing feels better, but might kill you. Quite the paradox, no? Somehow there is a psychological profundity in there, but I can't find it. Whatever it is, it isn't a pleasant thought.

Image retrieved at: http://theguiltlesslife.files.wordpress.com/2012/03/bikram.jpg

I guess it's 9/11.

I work with people who are hurting, and oftentimes within that hurt are questions of forgiveness. What is forgiveness? How does a person forgive? What does forgiveness mean? And I never answer those questions for another person, because those are deep questions about faith and belief, and it's incredibly important for a person to be able to make decisions about forgiveness autonomously, without the interests of other people getting in the way.

Larger issues of peace are incredibly complex. Forgiveness and peace may be inextricably linked, but how one goes about finding peace is also a deeply personal issue. Sometimes we get very sidetracked with blame, and wanting answers. Sometimes there are no answers. Sometimes life sucks and we just have to keep going.

In Bikram last night, the teacher (or supreme yogi, or whatever they're called) reminded us that Bikram helps us to find stillness, or forces us to be still. All I know is that at the end of the class, I want to jump up and run out the door. I want the hot to go away. I want to breathe cool air. But I heed those words (because what am I there for if I don't listen?), and I lie as still as I can, for as long as I can (probably less than the recommended three minutes), before I hurry to test my sugar and get some fresher air.

When I lived in the jungle, I had few moments of cool crisp air to breathe. When I came off the plane, I thought I would die. It felt like an oven (it was the equator, after all). And my body suffered in the heat, and my soul suffered with loneliness, but I survived. Sometimes all we can do is survive, and hope that God really is there and real, or else none of it means anything anyway and there is no point.

So breathe the hot air, because it's all you have. Be mad if you want, because it won't make the hot air go away. I like to be mad at God. God can handle it.

BIKRAM #2 (and #3)

 

So Tuesday, I went back to the hot yoga studio. There was a different instructor, and she suggested that I sit out one set of each posture (they do two sets of everything), so I did. After an hour, I thought I was going to die from the heat and I couldn't slow my heart rate down, so I just laid on the ground for the last twenty minutes and willed my breath to keep me alive. I succeeded.

Wednesday (i.e. yesterday), I went again, this time not because I had something to prove to myself or anyone else, but because I really wanted to go back. My job can be stressful if I allow it to be, and it's really nice to look forward to a time where I can let out all the bad stuff that's hanging out in my body. I'm not a big believer in toxins and all that jazz. I'm not going to buy a cleansing kit that does horrible things, nor am I going to go crazy and do the cayenne/lemonade thing. But a regular thing that makes me feel good every day? I think I can get behind that.

I know. I know. Now I'm a crazy Bikram convert. But seriously, I need something to look forward to that is different from everything else. I need something that doesn't mess with my spine or my blood sugar. So, for the time being, this is going to be it. Deal with it haters.

On another note, I moved back home last night. At one point, I had dirty laundry, clean laundry, food, all my eBay stuff, my briefcase, toiletries, and my post-yoga mat and towels all in piles in my super small living room. If the lighting were better in my apartment, I would have taken a picture. It was scary stuff.

Then I cried about turning 30 and laughed while watching Bachelor Pad. All in a day's work.