Finding Your Voice

I have had an interesting few weeks. I have delved into physical posture issues that had me questioning whether yoga led to my current physical pain. I have delved into  emotional processes I have had my entire life wondering if they could be the root of the pain. And I have ignored the pain as much as possible and attempted to change my story around it only to have it come back and bite me in the rear, literally. There is so much to say. I have wanted to write about all of these issues and experiences, to share them as part of the yoga / modern world story.

And yet, I cannot find the words.

Where have they gone? Everyone who writes has moments like these. They come in waves and make us believe we have lost our voice for good. Is it a fear of a response to our genuine voice? Is it a fear that we have nothing to say? Is it a fear of showing too much of ourselves?

When I was living in New Zealand, writing came so easy. If nothing else, I could always fall back on the beauty surrounding me. The earthquakes provided nice, though disturbing, fodder as well. But since being back these for nearly two years, life has taken on a strange sense of normalcy even though I am finally a practicing attorney, the sole purpose for this blog. There is so much going on, but why would that matter to anyone? How do I put it into words? I do not think it is the practice of law itself that has taken my voice, but instead the implications on my practice of putting too much on a public blog.

But it's not as though my life is not interesting. I see human tragedy several times per day and opportunities to use a practice all the time. But as each day ends there are moments of regret, realizations that moments of practice were missed, and a deep sense of recognition that more often than not reaction wins when response was so necessary. It's not just my voice that is missing, it's the practice itself. And how does a yoga teacher share being caught up in the mind so much as to miss the opportunity to tune in and meet people where they are with a sense of yogic connection?

These issues go beyond the practice of law as well. A friend asked me if I wanted to teach a yoga class for her. Of course I do. But how? What if that morning I wake up unable to walk? What if I have lost my yoga teaching voice? What if I have lost my practice? When I started teaching yoga, people told me they loved my classes. Certainly they are different than the average American yoga class, but they seemed to work. But I have not taught in over a year. I have only taken a handful of classes. The fear has taken over. I don't know if my voice will come back or if my practice will either. There is a piece of the fight or flight response people often forget - the freeze response. As I have learned more about it, I see it more and more in the people around me. But more of that for a different day. Today, suffice it to say, my practice and my voice feel as though that is where they are.

And that is when yoga is needed the most. It is always there to guide us back to presence and ourselves. Yoga is not about finding something external. It is about finding the strength within us that guides us through life. I realized something this past weekend. Sometimes we have to get out of our own way in order for the magic to happen. Yoga is just a tool for making that happen. It is the path (perhaps better to say, one path) for getting out of our own heads and into our true Being.

Deep within ourselves  we cannot lose our voice. We cannot lose the practice. Both are always there. We just find incredible ways to hide them from ourselves and then fear they have disappeared forever. The truth, however, is that we can never lose our essence. By definition, it is always within us. And our voice is nothing more than our essence manifested in this reality.

And so, yoga is the practice of letting our essence shine again. Sometimes it even takes writing about it before we can trust ourselves enough to access it.

Do you tune into your essential voice? Do you let your true voice manifest in this world? If not, what is holding you back? And what do you need to break out of that rut and shine? The modern world tries to quiet us and deprive us of our deepest voice, but yoga beings us back to it simply by silencing all the noise blocking it out. And sometimes remembering it is there is the first step on the journey toward finding it again. How are you finding your voice?

Namaste.

© Rebecca Stahl 2013, all rights reserved.

The post, Finding Your Voice, first appeared on Is Yoga Legal.

That Which is Hidden is Our Greatest Treasure

"Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity." -- Pema Chodron

People come to yoga for a lot of reasons. Exercise, flexibility, stress management, and relaxation tend to dominate the list. Finding our darkness is not usually at the top of the list. Ironically this may be one of the most important ways yoga and law are connected, or at least one of the best ways yoga can inform the law and so many other aspects of modern life. That which is hidden in yoga is perhaps its greatest treasure.

Pema Chodron is an American Buddhist nun living in Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia. She has written several books, including The Places That Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times, the book from which the above quote is taken. I was reading it the other day, and this quote struck me as something I had to hear (or read, but you get the idea). I realized this is at the heart of what we do in helping professions, and probably a big piece of why they lead to so much vicarious trauma for so many.

I think about this issue a lot, but I have never really had the ability, or perhaps the courage, to fully express it on this blog. I tried here but stopped at a more superficial level (a bit ironic considering the title of the post). Yoga has the potential, perhaps the inevitability, to bring us to the deepest places within us. In words, this is the body holding onto our emotions, which is why some people burst into laughter in yoga classes and some people burst into tears. That happens spontaneously when we tap those places within us holding those emotions.

When we make the commitment to look inside, we will probably learn to be more flexible and relaxed, and we will probably notice we handle stress better. But we may also notice the darkness. We may come face-to-face with everything we have been hiding from ourselves for years.

At first glimpse, this seems like a reason to not go so deep. It seems like a reason to get off the mat and into busyness. After all, busy is safe in this world. But even when we think we are running away, we cannot. It always comes back to get us. We have all experienced the vacation sicknesses. You know, the times you get sick on your vacation because you are finally allowing all those stress hormones to let go. It is no fun when we hide from what is inside only to have it come back unexpectedly.

Yoga gives us the opportunity to get there first. It gives us the opportunity to be (somewhat) in charge of facing what is beneath the surface. At one level, it helps us face our fears. We learn to be stronger people everyday. That does not seem to be a secret among the yoga world. I feel this gets simplified, as though this process is easy. “Of course, just learning to do a balance posture will bring us into balance in life.” It certainly gives us the tools to see it is possible, but yoga takes us deeper when we allow it.

And that deeper level is to finding our truest sense. As in the quote above, it can be our darkness. It can be that place within us we have done everything to hide. One of my fellow students in teacher training said she would go home from yoga classes yelling at her family, and she did not understand why. She had touched that place, but did not yet have the tools to move through it.

And yoga takes us there as well. When we hit those moments, whether our deepest darkness or our greatest lights, we keep moving, we keep breathing, we keep being. We can bring compassion to those moments (or years) and just let them be as they are. We can use certain asanas and breathing techniques to move through them, but and eventually they shift. But once we see ourselves for who we are, we see the greatest gift of all. We can then begin to connect with others and find compassion for them wherever they are.

And that is a lesson for all of us, especially for lawyers dealing with people in crisis.

I was having a conversation with someone the other day in which she said to me, “you’re a lawyer, you live in your head.” I laughed and said, “I think it is the other way around. I live in my head, so I’m a lawyer.” And that is exactly why yoga is so important in the legal profession. The law pretends to be rational, but the problem is that people are not. We need to be able to experience both in order to be able to best serve our clients.

As friends and family, we can best help our loved ones by understanding our deepest selves. And the truth is that can sometimes be very, very scary. It can also be very, very exciting. We have no idea what we may learn when we step onto the mat or sit on the cushion. What we do know is that this seemingly solitary practice is our best learning tool for connecting with our “shared humanity.” And while Pema’s quote only talks about finding our darkness to connect with the darkness in others, her point can be expanded. When we fully understand ourselves and our humanity, we can better understand others.

And that is true compassion. That allows us to connect with people and recognize we are all in this together no matter how different we may appear superficially. There may be two sides to a story or to a lawsuit, but underlying all of that is our humanity.  Our work on the mat is a personal practice, but it can help us give ourselves to the world. Of course, I love the feeling of relaxation at the end of a yoga class, but more and more every day I am learning to be grateful for the depths of the practice, the ones I always knew were there, but also knew would take time to reach.  

How has yoga helped you connect with yourself? How has it helped you connect with others? 

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved.

What Makes a True Path?

“No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path.” – Buddha

I read a lot of yoga blogs, probably too many. I live in my head, and yoga blogs are a way to think intellectually about what I “should” be practicing. One of the blogs I read most frequently is “linda’s yoga journey.” One of the issues she often discusses is how to be on a “real” yoga path. I usually find myself nodding along to her posts, thinking, “she is totally right., the way yoga has hit mainstream America is barely recognizable as yoga. ‘Real’ yoga is something different.” And then I realize I am the person she is describing, the one talking the talk but not always walking the walk.

I do not make time for an asana practice everyday. I do not make time for a meditation practice everyday. My meditation practice is often in my car. Most days I take a few moments to sit in the morning, and I attend classes on the weekends, but my practice is not as structured as it could be. I can come up with all sorts of excuses as to why this is, but excuses are not the point of this post.

There is no question that my path is to find a way to bring yoga into daily living. Whether that means asana “At the Desk,” meditations in the car, or even ways to recognize and overcome vicarious trauma, yoga is not something we can only practice in the Himalayan peaks. It has to be something we can bring to daily living. But that means less time for the actual deepening of the practice. Sure, we can go on yoga retreats and fill our yoga buckets, but how do we bring these practices into daily life?

As the Buddha says in the quote above, “We ourselves must walk the path.” There is no substitute for practice. But how can we balance the need for practice with the need to get up in the morning and go about our daily living? That path is not for everyone, but for those of us who know our path is to find the balance, how do we do that?

On days I do not make time to practice, I feel guilty. That’s not very yogic, now is it? But on days I take the time to practice, I feel different. The sense of calm lasts a little bit longer. The ability to respond rather than react is a little bit larger. Those moments come more often the more time spent in practice. But too much time spent in practice means the unread materials pile up and the deadlines get missed. And of course that causes stress and anxiety of its own.

But the path can be both. I know it can. The true path is learning to listen. Through yoga, we learn to listen to what we need. We eventually learn to understand it as well. Some days, doing the work that is piling up at the office is more yogic. It clears the space around us giving us a space for clear thinking. Some days, no matter how high that pile has become, we need to turn to the mat. Those are the days that no matter how much we try to tackle the pile, unless we take some time away from it, there is no way we can do it. Sound familiar?

But that still leaves the aching question – is this a “true” path? Is the only true way to bring yoga into our lives to make time to practice every single day at the same time? When the guilt is rising high, my answer to this is sometimes yes. But the rest of the time, the time when I take the time to reflect, I realize the answer is no.

A true path is in the intention we bring to it. Where is the heart? And are we willing to walk the path ourselves? Are we willing to bring our entire soul to it? When we have the intention, we can miss our mark sometimes, but we always know we can return. We always remember that we can come back to the path waiting within us.

And it is that intention that we bring to our daily lives. I still get upset with people. I still lose my temper. I still feel anxiety. But underneath those moments is a little voice reminding me it need not be that way. And in those moments, sometimes my breath returns, and I laugh at the situation. And sometimes it does not, and I leave disgruntled and guilty. And after a decade of this practice, countless hours in meditation and on the mat, and countless hours reading yoga blogs about different paths, something has finally clicked.

Those moments are the true path. All of them. When our paths are between the modern world and the yoga mountains, finding the bridge is the path. And we are going to have many, many moments on both sides of that bridge. But with the intention to continuously come back, we are on a true path . . . even if we miss a day or two on the mat. It may not look like a traditional yoga path, but it is what allows us to be true to our own hearts. 

How does your path look? Where is your intention? 

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved. 

Forging A Path

Two paths diverged in a wood, and I –

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

--The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken is one of my favorite poems of all time, and it has graced this blog before. Ironically, as I have mentioned before, my life has always felt like a predetermined path. It always just felt as though the next step was laid out before me, and I followed it. The next thing I knew, I was a practicing lawyer doing work I find interesting and exhilarating, while learning to integrate all the yoga teachings I have learned over the years.

This week marks my first week away from work since January, when I went to a conference on child maltreatment. This week, I am attending my favorite conference of the year; the conference two years ago changed my life in innumerable ways. But before the conference, I am visiting a friend in Bloomington, Indiana. It has been a surprisingly lovely little town, full of good food, trees, and a great friend.

It is also home to the Tibetan Mongolian Buddhist Cultural Center. Their website says that on the first Sunday of every month, they have an Introduction to Tibetan Buddhism session. It sounded interesting, so we decided to head over there. When we arrived, however, no one had any clue what we were talking about. But the grounds were beautiful, and there is a wee walking path, so we decided to take a walk in the woods.

As much as I would like to discuss trees, this post is actually not about trees in any way. It is about paths.

Walking through the woods at the Cultural Center, I started to think about the fact that we were on a set path. It was well marked, with little yellow, plastic flags, and even some yellow spray paint on some trees. I started ruminating on what it means to be on a life path versus a path in the woods. I found it slightly ironic that I was on such a well-marked path at a Buddhist retreat center.

Although people talk about being on a Buddhist path or a meditation path or a yoga path, there are no little plastic flags along the way. There are teachers, and there are people who have traveled before, but each path is unique to the individual on it. No two paths will look the same, and there is no specific goal at the end.

Being a lawyer, or any professional, is much the same. It used to be true that you would get out of law school, start working in a law firm, and stay there the rest of your life. On a similar vein, when my step-dad quit working for General Motors in Flint, Michigan, people thought he was crazy; just a few years later, the plant closed, and everyone who thought they had a job for life was out of work. Today, the average lawyer changes jobs five times over the course of a career, and that means many are changing several more times. Being a lawyer is about building and learning along the way, about finding the best way to serve the most clients. Just like the Buddhist path, there are teachers and mentors to guide our decisions, but at the end of the day, the path is our own. It is unique to each and every one of us.

A lack of set path is exciting. It means we each can wander and branch out in our own individual ways and find the work that inspires us to be our best. It can also be terrifying. There are all sorts of "what if?" moments, and we never know for sure if we are going to enjoy the next stage. It can be just as scary as being lost in the woods. 

But "the one less traveled by” is not "the one no one can help you understand." It is not a path upon which you can ask for no guidance; it is simply the one unique to you. As I walked off the path at the Cultural Center, I noticed we ended up right back where we started. I sort of chuckled to myself, thinking, “We know exactly where we will end up on the predetermined path, and we will not get very far." This can be great for getting back to your car to go home. It may not work so well as a life path. On that one, I plan to forge the new road ahead. 

And that, my friends, is what this week’s conference is about. But more on that when it starts. What about you? Where do you diverge from the set path?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved.