Remembering the Tools

I remember the moment I decided I needed yoga and meditation in my life. I was 19 years old. It was the summer between my first and second years in university. I was having a rough summer, and I needed a way to relax. I had always been interested in yoga, but I had only tried it once myself. Yoga was becoming a big deal in America, but by no means was it yet the multi-billion dollar industry driving yogurt ads it is today. I just knew I needed something different in my life, and yoga seemed like the way to start.

Soon yoga just took over my life. It kept me sane, or at least saner than without it. Yoga became my refuge, both as a practice and as a way to connect to community. And I found a way to bring it into my world as a lawyer, not as a separate thing I did after work, but as a way to further create a professional community. My first teaching experience was at a family law conference, and for a brief time when I was "self-employed" I taught Stress Management Workshops focusing on yoga and meditation.

I attempted to fill my yoga bucket with practice and various tools, hoping to have a reserve for when the going got tough. And for awhile, I did. But then it got tougher.

For whatever reason, I am not recovering correctly from my surgery four months ago. No one seems to know why that is. But the words have begun to change from recovery to chronic pain. My life has gone from one of hiking the self-proclaimed most beautiful trail in the world to wondering whether I will be able to take a 10-minute walk home from Starbucks. And with the change in life circumstances has come the fear, the panic, etc.

I have said it before, and I will say it probably many more times. Something hit me during yoga teacher training. I was not necessarily destined to be a full-time yoga teacher, but somehow I had to bring yoga into some part of the legal profession, and perhaps to other professionals as well. The reason? Working a lot can be hazardous to your health, but it can also be rewarding. We just have to find the place where those two meet and remain healthy.

I made sure to make yoga a part of my life when I started my job in December 2011. Then there were weeks I did not go to classes, but I (usually) practiced in the mornings. Well, sometimes. And then began the nagging hip pain that eventually traveled down my leg and into my foot. That landed me on an operating table. And now I have an excuse - I cannot do yoga. But what does that mean exactly? I cannot do most asana. That is true. But everyone can do yoga. If you can breathe, you can do yoga. I often write about yoga and meditation, but there is no difference. They are one and the same.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine gave me a CD called Mindfulness Meditation for Pain Relief by Jon Kabat-Zinn. In it, he reminds us that mindfulness is not something that happens overnight. He reminds us that mindfulness is an ongoing process, a training system really. And something about that is difficult. All the tools in the world but somehow they feel beyond my grasp. I understand stress that comes from work. I have never done anything in my life except school and work. I can work with that stress. I do not understand the stress and fear that comes with a body that seems to be failing. I could always push through the pain before. But now I have to deal with it.

But we all reach these moments in life, these moments we are faced to deal with our lives and not run and hide. For some of us, many of the people I see, these moments happen as a result of work, especially in a stressful profession like law, but not only. For some it is the result of an illness, a divorce, the death of a loved one, but we all know these moments. They bring us to our edge. And if I have learned anything from yoga, it is that the edge can move. We can expand and grow. Sometimes it feels like it is impossible. Sometimes we push too far and cause ourselves more pain and suffering. But we learn to read it and understand it, and when we use the breath and mindfulness and awareness, we slowly begin to see we can handle more.

I would love to say I have had that moment of insight seeing my edge expand. But the truth is that there is not necessarily a moment. As Kabat-Zinn reminds us, it is a process. And no, it is not necessarily an easy one, even when you have all the tools. In that sense, it is sort of like practicing law - law school can only teach you so much, but then you have to practice to learn to really do it.

Practice. That's the word. Practice. No matter the endeavor, practice makes us better at it. And no matter the endeavor, there are days (or months, perhaps years) we do not want to practice. But the difference here is that practicing yoga makes all the other endeavors, including a body that does not work, easier. I am honestly not sure what has kept me off the proverbial mat/cushion. But I know that the only way to handle this is to utilize the tools I began learning when I was 19. Ironically, I'm back in the same location I was that summer, at least for another few days. Perhaps that is just the inspiration I need.

How have you gotten back into practice after a long stint away? How does your life change when you do not practice?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2013, all rights reserved.

"Remembering the Tools" first appeared on Is Yoga Legal.

Easier Said Than Done

I have not posted in weeks. It has been years since I have gone this long without posting. But really, I did not know what to say. Back surgery recovery is going much slower than expected, and this is a blog about how yoga can help in life. But some days, that is easier said than done.

Breathing has been hard these past few weeks. Taking a deep breath actually hurts at times, and the fear that it will hurt stops me at other times. And yet breathing is exactly what calms the nerves, the very things causing the pain in the first place. And sometimes the fear just takes over, and the breath falls away.  

But there are moments when it comes back. There are moments when I talk to others I know in the legal community. In fact, over the past week, I have run into two people I know through yoga, and just their “coincidental” presence in my life has been soothing.

Healing takes time. While in some ways I am a very patient person, these past few months have shown anything but my patient side. Even when driving, or perhaps especially when driving, I find myself getting upset at the other drivers on the road and even yelling out loud at them. The daily stresses of life take over, and the calm, centered awareness of breath falls away.

Sometimes, it is simply easier said than done.

But the doing is absolutely vital. Taking that breath, and tuning in to what is underlying the stress and the anxiety is the most vital thing we can do to heal and move beyond our daily stress. It is very easy for people to say, “Just breathe.” I have been known to say it myself on occasion. But that simple statement presumes that taking a breath is going to be easy. It presumes that our stress does not feel stronger than the ability to breathe.

But sometimes the pain and the stress feel more powerful. Sometimes they take us to points we had no idea we could go. That does not mean that a breath is a bad idea. It just may mean it is the scariest thing we can do at the moment.

These past few weeks especially I have noticed how tight my belly muscles are, and not in the six-pack sort of way. Instead it is in the “I cannot take a deep belly breath” sort of way. Breathing too deeply into the lower belly, where every yoga teacher I have ever had says to focus the breath, is exactly across from the incision in my back. That is a very physical manifestation of the fear that sometimes arises when taking a deep breath. Going into the places our breath can take us can be scary. And that is why it is sometimes easier said than done to take our deepest breaths.

So what do we do in those moments? I do not know anyone that has never had them. I think the lesson I have had to learn the most is that it is actually okay to be in that space. It is okay to be afraid to take a breath sometimes.

My yoga practice both made that awareness difficult and possible. As a yoga teacher, I have this vision of myself that I should always be able to take a deep breath and relax. And as a yoga teacher, I know that it is important to accept ourselves exactly as we are in the moment. Only one of those is “right” in the sense that it comports with the truth of the universe. It is, of course, the latter of the two statements. But there is always the nagging former statement – the one where we try to live up to expectations that simply do not comport with reality.

As I sit here writing this I am actually breathing better than I have on my own in weeks. There is still hesitation as the breath moves into the back body. I would be lying if I said I am totally okay with it, but it is true that I am aware of it and learning to accept it. I am also learning to understand it.

Sometimes taking a breath is the most difficult thing we can do. But then you realize that accepting that fact is even more difficult. It is with the acceptance, however, that the breath becomes possible once again.

What do you do when the breath does not come? What arises for you when you struggle with the breath?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2013, all rights reserved.

The Paralysis of the Breath

This blog has focused a lot on the breath. It sounds so easy to say – Just Breathe! The breath is always there, it is always available to us, it is always a guide for how we are doing and feeling. And sometimes the breath gets stuck. Have you ever been in a situation where you are a bit tense and then realize you have not actually breathed in several seconds even when you think you are trying to relax? Have you ever tried to take a deep breath only to feel as though every muscle in your body is fighting against it?

 Yoga leads us to deeper and calmer breathing in several ways. There is pranayama, which is specifically different breath control techniques. During asana practice, breathing helps us release more fully into any posture. In meditation, our breath keeps us focused. Breath is, therefore, the center of yoga, and it permeates all we do.

Being a lawyer provides ample opportunities for us to hold our breath with anxiety. Whether a deadline is fast approaching or a judge is telling you to get to the point, lawyering is a stressful profession. But it is more than stress that leads us away from the breath. Stress can be managed and understood, and generally we can find the breath with the right training even in very stressful situations.

Stress always has an underlying cause. Sometimes we just have too much on our plate, but why does that lead to stress? Recently, I have recognized that much of our stress comes from fear. Are we afraid we will not finish everything? Are we afraid we will not do a good enough job? Are we afraid we will not give enough time to our families if we focus on our work and vice versa? And it is when the fear becomes overbearing that we lose our breath. Fear can become debilitating.

I have heard fear and excitement as the same emotion with a different intention. We describe them somewhat similarly – butterflies in the stomach, shortness of breath, slight agitation, etc. And they arise in similar circumstances. What gives one person fear – public speaking – very much excites someone else. Similarly, excitement can be called eustress, which is defined as healthy or good stress. I do not particularly like the idea of good vs. bad stress, but it gets the point across. Sometimes, we need stress to get us excited enough to help us do great in a particular situation.

But sometimes that stress/fear overtakes us and completely paralyzes us. And it becomes obvious when even with conscious awareness the breath cannot slow and calm. It is a cycle that is difficult to break. As a yoga teacher, I want to believe that taking a deep breath relieves all situations and brings us back to our center. But as a modern human being, I know that is easier said than done. Deep down I still know and believe that coming back to the breath is the single greatest healing technique every one of us has. But using that technique is, at times, nearly impossible.

And what do we do in those moments? In those moments, it is important to recognize that we are not lesser beings because the breath is difficult. It is but another lesson. It is a window into helping us more fully understand that which causes us our greatest fears. Easy? Absolutely not! But those moments are also some of our most honest. Those are the moments when we recognize that it is okay to be afraid, it is okay to be human.

Of course we do not want the breath to stay paralyzed forever. But if we get caught up in being worried that it has momentarily stopped and that we should know better, we can get caught up in a worry that we are somehow less than. Less than what? Less than whatever your biggest fear is. Sometimes the breath being stopped by fear is a wake-up call to what is calling out to us. It is a wake-up call that something needs our attention. And when we provide that attention, the breath slowly (and sometimes quickly) returns to its prior glory.

 Our breath truly is our greatest teacher. It tells us where we are, and when we can concentrate and bring awareness to it, we are able to slowly begin to learn the lessons it has to teach. Have you had moments where your breath felt paralyzed? What do you do in those moments?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved.

Waiting Out the Storm

As I have mentioned before, yoga has helped put me in touch with nature on a different level. New Zealand was full of nature lessons, especially its healing power. There were also reminders that nature is not always tame -- sea lions like to "play". Here in the desert, there are really three lessons I have learned. First, life exists in places you would never imagine possible. Second, hot has new meaning when you live in the desert. And third, there is such a thing as monsoons! Growing up in California, summer rain was nearly unknown, but here in the desert it is a lovely respite from the heat, but the storm itself is power like nothing else I have ever experienced, and they arrive and depart almost instantaneously. Seven years after moving to the desert, they still amaze me.

This year we have had a lot more rain than normal, so I have been thinking a lot about monsoons, especially after getting caught in one while driving over the weekend. I had to drive over two hours to see a client over the weekend, and the shortest path there includes driving over a road with a lot of dips. It is a beautiful road to drive, but as one of my friends and colleagues reminded me, it is less than safe in a monsoon.  

As I was preparing to head back to Tucson on my drive, I looked out and saw nothing but black clouds on my path ahead. Thinking it would be safer to take the long road back, which traverses highways (and no dips in the road), I turned my car around and headed north. Perhaps I should have consulted the wind; it was blowing north.

The storm I tried to outsmart caught up with me on Interstate 10. The wind put Wellington to shame, and there were moments I could not see the front of my car, let alone any other cars or the lines on the road. All I could do was pull off the side of the road and sit there. Other cars, and some trucks, tried to keep going, and each one that drove by scared me just a little more. It did not help that I actually thought my car was going to blow away in the wind. The fear was palpable, and my heart was racing, yet in the midst of all of it, I found a moment to breathe. After all, what could I do but be grateful I hit the storm in a place where I could find a relatively safe place to stop rather than at the bottom of a dip in the road with my car floating away?

And then it cleared! The skies revealed the post-monsoon desert serenity. There is no beauty quite like it. The air that has been holding its breath (and yours) for hours, perhaps days, is fresh and clear. And it is cool. The clouds that continue to dot the sky look light and refreshed, not bogged down with the weight of their water. But to get to that serenity, you have to wait out the storm, perhaps even with a bit of gratitude knowing you will survive and knowing what awaits you on the other side of it.

I was driving a work car, so I had to take it back to the office. When I got there, I sent a colleague a text message telling her the car survived, and I was just a little worse for wear after the scariest drive of my life. She told me she was in the office “in case I needed a shoulder.” Surprisingly, I did not need a shoulder, but I did need a friendly face. I went up to the office and laughed and chatted with her for awhile. When I left again, the air remained fresh, and the desert was full of peaceful life.

Saturday’s lesson was huge. No matter how much we try to outrun the storms in our lives, they are going to catch up to us, but we can keep them from killing us with a little bit of preparation and perhaps some friendly advice from friends and colleagues. We may freak out in the middle, then remember how to breathe and calm down a bit, and then be rewarded with a deep and true sense of peace. When we are really lucky, someone reaches out and offers us the support we need. But for all these lessons to be learned, we still have to wait out the storms, even when they are monsoons! This is why we do the yoga, this is why we do the breathing. When these storms hit, we can come back from them not too much worse for wear, even if we still need a friendly face.

How do you wait out storms? Have people reached out to you in the midst of them? After them?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved.

Taking the Practice Deeper

I attended a yoga class over the weekend where the teacher asked us what it means to us to “take the practice deeper.” As she said, to a lot of people, the answer often revolves around getting into more “advanced” postures. But regular readers of this blog know that asana (postures) are just a part of yoga. They are necessary to the deeper practices, but they are not the only deeper practices.So what does it mean to take the practice deeper? It often means looking deeper inside ourselves. It can mean facing our fears.

So much of our lives are external. There was a very interesting article about busyness in the New York Times over the weekend. We live in a world of busy where we never have to look inside. In fact, taking the time to look inside is seen as an indulgence, not a necessity. The article says that all this busyness is a way for people to feel important. After all, if we never have time for people, they will know how much other people want our time.

But I think it might be more than that. And it has something to do with taking our practice deeper. Staying busy all the time protects us from having to look inside. Most of us have a lot of emotional buildup buried deep within us, and staying busy means we never have to acknowledge it. Even our body reflects how we hide from it. Our muscles tense, our jaw tightens, and sometimes we even get physically ill. These are the issues that often bring people to a yoga mat.

Therefore, a purely asana-focused practice can help us reach into some of these issues. We may notice that the emotional baggage we hold in our hips begins to release when doing hip openers. Some people spontaneously cry or laugh while doing asana. Some people love the endorphins. As we begin to move through the holding patterns in our musculature, we begin to face the rest of our lives as well. 

Going deeper means taking the asana practice and using it to really understand what we are holding, and how we can release it. Taking our practice there is where the real healing begins. Yoga becomes more than a strong core and some breathing exercises. It becomes truly therapeutic.

But it also means entering that space of fear. It means facing the world we hide from ourselves through our busyness. The universe will never throw anything at us we are unable to handle at that time, but it may not always feel that way. Yoga, for all its great healing attributes, makes us vulnerable. Muscles that were tight expand and make us open. With all the traumatic stories and news we hear, from a friend’s divorce, to our clients’ tragedy, to wars raging across the globe, sometimes it is easier to stay closed.

But yoga opens us up. It opens us by asking us to go deeper than those surface pains and tightness in our muscles and our minds. It allows us to turn inward and see what we have been hiding from ourselves and the world. And when we can learn to be with our own inner being, we can learn to be with each other more solidly.

Easy? Absolutely not! Some days it keeps people off the mat entirely. But the healing is at that deep level as well, which is why we also come back to the mat or the cushion. The physical pains that brought us to the mat at the beginning are our reminders that overall it is safe to return to the mat when our practice deepens. It is when we go deeper into our practices that not only can we heal our aches and pains but our sorrows as well. We learn to tune into the strength that is our body and the strength that is our soul.

Maybe going deeper also means “finally” bringing your hands to the floor in a forward fold, but really it is about being with ourselves completely. Rather than blocking out parts of ourselves, we look at them squarely and feel all they have to offer. And at that moment we breathe.

So, perhaps our obsession with busyness is about proving that we have the best business, as suggested by the New York Times article. Or perhaps it is a way to hide. I actually think it is both. Yoga automatically removes us from this busyness, even if only for five minutes. It takes us away from proving to each other we matter. It takes us away from needing to prove we are better. And it certainly takes us away from hiding from ourselves.

Going deeper. What does that mean? Ironically, as my practice has deepened, I cannot get as deep into certain postures on certain days. But I know that where my practice is each day is where it needs to be. At times it is frustrating, but I learn something new from it every single time.

What does going deeper mean for you? Do you use busyness as a distraction? What happens to your mind when you let it settle?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved. 

The Honeymoon vs. The Learning Curve

Yoga starts with a honeymoon phase. It seems that people who really start yoga (as opposed to those who go for one class and decide it is not for them) simply fall in love with the practice. It begins to define their being. There was a great article about that honeymoon phase, and the end of the honeymoon phase, over on Yoga Dork last week.

The author notes, quite correctly in my experience, that there will be days we just do not feel like doing the practice. There will be times we need to take a break, sometimes because the practice has lost something and sometimes because we ignore the practice so much we hurt ourselves. But her point is that like any relationship, there comes a point when the magic feels like it is gone. But it is the initial bliss that sets the stage for the continuing relationship in the future.

The legal profession, from the day we set foot in law school, is sort of the opposite of the honeymoon phase of a yoga practice. From that very first day, we talk about the steep learning curve, about learning to “think like a lawyer” (which, as someone pointed out to me recently, is grammatically incorrect). But those first few weeks and months in law school are nothing compared to the first few weeks and months in practice.

I have now been practicing for almost five months. I have been studying how to be a lawyer for children for the past 5-7 years. I taught kids English in France, and I was a camp counselor for years. My dad is a child custody evaluator, and discussions about family law and juvenile law issues were the topic of many a dinner-table conversations. In other words, I had quite a solid foundation for this work. And yet . . . The learning curve is steeper than anything I have ever before experienced.

And at times, it feels overwhelming . . . overwhelming on the grandest scale.

Interestingly, the cure for both the end of the honeymoon phase and the overwhelming nature of a steep learning curve can be the same – returning to the passion of what brought you there in the first place. This can be extremely difficult when we are stuck in a rut. It can seem pointless when the honeymoon phase has ended. The greatness that was the beginning of the practice might be nothing but a distant memory, a memory you can barely rely on as truth anymore. The exhilaration that brought you to a legal practice (or any profession) that now seems so maddeningly overwhelming can feel like nothing more than pipe dreams of a distant age.

But the good news is that neither of those is the truth. Those belief structures are the rut and the overwhelm speaking for our true understanding. The joy and exhilaration of a practice are always there. They are sometimes more difficult to find than at other times, but they always exist.

Sometimes we just have to look from a new perspective. And what I have learned this weekend is that the new perspective can be that place of rut / overwhelm. The difficulty of the path, wherever that path began, is what deepens the passion that brought us there in the first place. The honeymoon phase, while perhaps exciting, is not the fullest and most complete part of a relationship. The overwhelm of the steep learning curve eventually goes away and first year law students and associates eventually become mentors.

In the moment of the rut and overwhelm, hearing that is difficult. Deep down, we all know it, but stepping on the mat, or into a courtroom, can be difficult in those moments. But the new perspective on the passion and inspiration that began the path and the practice can be our strength to step back in the game.

What I find most interesting about this dynamic is that regardless of how the practice begins – either a honeymoon or a steep and difficult learning curve, the bump in the road is the same. But the bump is just a bump. It is not a brick wall. And that is a lesson both yoga and the law have taught me, and continue to teach me when I’m willing to listen.

How have you seen this play out in your life?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved.

Props, Support, and Paradox

"Using props means I am not as good of a yogi, right?" "Only people who are not flexible need props." "I can touch the floor, so what good does a prop do me?" These common myths about props in yoga correlate fairly directly with our common myths about support in our lives generally.

We live in a world that is moving more and more toward the individual, away from support structures. We are told, whether consciously or unconsciously, that we need to be able to make it on our own. I am reminded of the scene in “American Beauty,” where the mother informs the daughter, “the only person you can trust in the world is yourself.” I’m paraphrasing, but you get the idea. The notion is out there – looking to others for support is, at best, a sign of weakness, and at worst, detrimental to our survival.

Yet, deep within ourselves, I would bet that most of us know this is simply not true. As has been mentioned before, the yoga paradox shows us that the more support we have, the deeper we can go, support also allows us to to further in our lives. In addition, humans are social creatures who not only crave societal interactions but rely upon them for survival. As hunter-gatherers, if we did not have each other, large felines probably would have destroyed us as a species. Creating societies of togetherness has its downfalls – we see those outside our set worlds as “others” – but it also ensures our survival, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

And yet so many of us are afraid to ask for help.

I was at a yoga class this weekend in which we spent most of the class using props, following an Iyengar approach. It was not, however, a restorative class, where I am used to doing that. During teacher training, we learned some techniques for using props in non-restorative (as well as restorative) postures, but I had never attended a class structured around the use of props. It was a small class, and it worked great! The support from the props did not necessarily make the asanas easier. In some ways, they were more difficult. But they were also more “correct.” And the props allowed me to go into postures in ways I never had before.

With the support of the props, the focus could be on ensuring the postures were opening and strengthening properly and safely, instead of struggling just to hold the pose incorrectly. With the use of props, we could fully open up instead of cutting off circulation by pushing ourselves into positions are bodies are not ready to accomplish. In turn, the body can eventually go deeper into the poses quicker and more safely than it ever could have done on its own. The support gets the mind out of the way and allows the body to open up to its fullest potential.

Once again, the body is a lesson for the rest of life. Asking other people for support does not mean we are weak. It does not mean we cannot do it on our own. It may not even make life easier overall. It will, however, help remove the internal struggle we have with ourselves, the struggle that tells us to go further than we are ready. That is how we injure ourselves. That is how we create harm. But with the appropriate support, we can hold ourselves up and move forward in ways that would otherwise take much longer or even cause us harm. With proper support, we can soar to new heights and new ideas without worry.

Props in yoga can be used for all sorts of reasons. They can protect our vulnerable knee joints from taking on too much strain. They can lift the floor to where we can reach, so we can create space in the body instead of constriction. They can be gentle reminders to bring attention to particular parts of ourselves that need attention in a particular pose. They can also be used to keep us from literally falling over in balance postures. When we know how to properly use props, our practice can soar to new heights.

Support off the mat is similar. By finding the proper support, we can protect our vulnerabilities, ensure that our goals are within reach, focus on areas we may have overlooked without the help of outside sources, and ensure we stay as balanced as possible along the way. But the first step is recognizing we need the support and that asking for it will take us further in all our endeavors.

Where do you find support most helpful? How has support changed your yoga practice? How has it changed your life?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved.

In the Face of Fear, or Finding Yoga

I hate swimming. There, I said it. Yes, I know hate is a strong word, and I am really trying to take it out of my vocabulary, but there are few things that prompt such a visceral reaction in me as swimming in a pool. Perhaps the only other one, especially since being in New Zealand, is constantly being cold. I don’t mind cold outside, but when cold is everywhere, when you can never warm up, cold gets to me. I am not the only American in New Zealand who has been brought to the verge of tears because it is just so cold inside!

So it might come as a surprise that I volunteered to participate in a swim study, especially one that tested the effects of cold-water immersion. That’s right. I willingly entered 10 degree (50 degrees Fahrenheit) water 4 times, and 15 degree (about 60 degree) water about 10 times. Two reasons: 1) I had just sent out a survey hoping for a great response and got a dismal response rate, so I am on a kick to help others who are doing research; and 2) I wanted to face my fears.

Yes, it is a cliché – the only way to overcome your fears is to face them. But most cliché’s get there because they are true. Want proof that I was nervous? My resting heart rate before getting in the cold water the first time was 87 beats per minute (as a comparison, it was later 65 bpm while just sitting in a room, at least according to my count). I do a lot of yoga. I meditate. I know the power of breath. I know the power of the mind. I ignored all of that and freaked out.

The study worked fairly simply. They hooked me into a harness, hung me over a pool treadmill and dropped me in the water. Luckily, my head never went under. I had to do various trials, including treading water, swimming, mental tasks, etc. They did these first tests over two days while measuring my brain oxygen levels and my heart rate. Then a group of us non-swimmers received some “mental skills training” and a video on good water treading techniques. Then we practiced. Once or twice a day, I got into a tank of 15-degree water and treaded water for 3 minutes. After all the training, they did the same tests again to see if there was a difference.

I learned, or remembered, a few things. First, 10 degrees is really, really cold. Second, the mind is a powerful tool. Third, yoga off the mat really works . . . when we remember to use it.

So what was this mental skills training? It started with a video. The video was a man who swims in 1-2 degree water for fun and sits in industrial fridges to prove that he can. Most of us would die in either setting, but he is not only alive, but perfectly fine. His body temperature is no different than others when he is in the cold (a friend sat with him in the fridge for an hour), but his mind is different. His story reminded me of a story of monks who meditate in little clothing while sitting atop snowy mountains, the snow melting below them. The mind is a powerful tool.

Just like any tool, we can learn to use it. That’s the yoga off the mat. The mental skills training also included discussion about how to “handle” the cold. We learned breathing techniques (the subject of the next post), imagery techniques, and positive thinking techniques. Thus, we learned to relax, imagine the situation to reduce fear, reframe the concept of cold to “invigorating” rather than “bloody hell!,” and practiced to train the body to get used to the cold.

So, what’s the verdict? Well, I do not know my resting heart rate before being dropped in that water after all the training. But I do know how I felt. Was I nervous? Yeah, I was still nervous. But I was less nervous. Do I want to join the Polar Swim Club? Nope. Do I want to join any swim club? Nope, not really.

But guess what? The visceral reaction is gone. The thought of water no longer sends shivers down my spine. 

The mind is powerful. It can convince us of anything if we let it have the power. But we can also learn to control it. And with control of the mind, we can begin to control our fears. It will not happen overnight, but for nearly 30 years, I have hated water, and in a few short weeks, I can look at a pool with no emotion.

It just requires taking a bit of my own medicine.

What fears do you have? What would it take to face them? The next post will be a discussion of the specific breathing technique we learned. Teaser: yoga from a sports psychologist – have I entered the Twilight Zone?

Namaste!

© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved