Most Difficult for Us

I told someone the other day that prior to going to New Zealand, I used to teach Stress Management for Lawyers (and other professionals) workshops. I sort of laughed considering how difficult stress management has been for me recently. He very kindly said, “we are often drawn to that which is most difficult for us.” How right he is. My response to him was, “Do as I say, not as I do.”

There is no question that growing up I was full of stress. I first went to a chiropractor for intense neck pain when I was 15. I could barely move my neck at the time. College was sort of ridiculous for me when it came to stress, but that is also when I discovered yoga.

But my yoga bucket takes a lot to fill. The summer I was studying for the bar exam, I did two things – study and yoga. I was at yoga classes 4-5 times per week. It helped, and I think yoga was the only thing that got me through three days of the California bar exam, which feels like more of a marathon exercise than an actual examination of your understanding of legal material. But it required that amount of yoga just to keep me somewhat sane, and I am sure if you ask the people around me, they thought I was still a stress bucket. (Of course, they did not see everyone else studying with me.)

But some of us are patterned to be high anxiety. We could argue ad nauseam about whether it is our biology or our environment, but whichever it is, it goes deep into our bones. I think the legal profession attracts these types of people. We thrive on stress, and we understand it. But it takes its toll, and as a society we are learning that we have to counteract it, or we are going to kill ourselves. 

This blog is full of tools to do at the desk and more reminders to breathe than we know what to do with. But all of that is for naught if we do not actually do it. It is easy to know what we have to do. It is quite another story to step up and actually do it, especially when society tells us we should be “working” not managing stress. Even with the societal changes happening toward more understanding and acceptance of yoga and other stress management techniques, there is still the underlying assumption that those activities are not work, regardless of how good, and necessary, they are for us.

I found yoga because I needed it. I was at a point in my life where I knew I had to make some changes. Luckily for me, this realization happened when I was 19 years old. It was many more years, however, before yoga became an everyday part of my life. But when push comes to shove, the underlying patterns of stress return, and the yoga bucket empties fast.

But that is exactly what drew me to yoga in the first place. That is exactly what drew me to teaching yoga and teaching workshops. Staying in the yoga zone is difficult. I know what it is like to revert to the stress and all its underlying issues. Getting out of that mindset is never easy; it exists in our cells and our samskaras (patterns). It becomes our default even when we know how harmful it can be.

Teaching yoga forced me to do more yoga. It allowed me to start this blog and put my yoga practice front and center in my life. It allowed me to be honst about yoga even within the legal profession, something I was nervous about doing until I realized I am not, by any means, the only one. Plus, knowing how hard it was for me for years to reduce my stress, I knew I needed to do something drastic to ensure I would actually follow through.

But even that was not a panacea. There were moments, days, and even weeks of stress. I knew I had missed the mark when I told someone to breathe, and my colleague said, “look who’s talking” with a wee tone of sarcasm in her voice. But I may be the perfect proof of what happens when we ignore those lessons we know we need to learn. There could be any number of reasons I had a herniated disc, including the many times I have fallen down. But there is no question stress had something to do with it, and that stress is internal (a post for another day).

I know how powerful yoga, in all its forms, can be. But I also know that we have to follow through. And that can be extremely difficult at times. But perhaps the greatest lesson of these past few months is that there is no end point. Yoga is not something with a pass or fail. You are not graded on it. No one except you is keeping score. So even when it is extremely difficult, you can set the intention to start anew tomorrow. Better yet, you can set the intention to start anew right now. Yoga is about presence, no matter how difficult, and being present is one antidote to all the stress, anxiety, etc. that permeates so much of our lives today.

So, why was I drawn to yoga all those years ago? It was the answer to something that has always been extremely difficult for me. But with anything in life, that relief ebbs and flows. And so I share this post as a way to reach out and say that the best way to learn is to teach someone else. And sometimes the most important lessons are the ones most difficult for us to learn.

Do you have moments when you feel like you walk the yoga path? Do you have moments when you take a step to the side? Do you have moments where you feel like you cannot even see the path anymore? What do you do?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2013, all rights reserved.

Defining Ourselves

In many ways, this post has been years in the making. It sort of sums up why I created Is Yoga Legal. How do I define myself? Am I a lawyer representing children? Am I a researcher trying to find better ways to represent children? Am I a yogi? Am I a yoga teacher? This blog has always been a way to try to be all of these things as well as an attempt to recognize how they can influence each other.

But are any of these characteristics really who we are? Would I still be me if I stopped doing yoga? Would I still be me if I stopped being a lawyer? Someone asked me the other day, “how else do you want to be defined?” I really had no answer.

What I realized is that so many of us define ourselves by what we do. That is the cocktail party question, right? “So, what do you do?” In some ways, this is just an easy way to connect. It is a good way to break the ice in an otherwise super awkward moment. One of the things I have always liked about conferences is that there is an underlying assumption that everyone does the same work, even if it is from a different perspective. But that is not asking the person, "who are you?" It is simply a way to start making small talk. It might lead to interesting conversation, but it does not necessarily set the stage for truly understanding the person.

I have spent a lot of time traveling and getting away from past situations, not necessarily purposefully running, just moving and starting over again. I moved from Michigan to California when I was five (obviously not my choice), from California to Michigan when I was 18, from Michigan to France when I was 21 and again when I was 22, from France to Arizona when I was 23, from Tucson to Phoenix when I was 28, from Arizona to New Zealand when I was 29, and then back to Tucson just before I turned 30. 

I have had new experiences, “done” different things, and met hundreds of people. But I was always there. That person who cannot be defined. The same hopes, fears, relationships, etc. followed me from place to place and from experience to experience. Yoga was always the one aspect that helped me reconnect to my deeper self. It helps that I started doing yoga in college, so it has remained the one constant in my adult life, even if at times it has been more or less a part of my life.

So, how does yoga connect us to our deeper selves, the one who is beyond being defined by what we do? To be clear, this is not a way to define ourselves as yogis. Yoga helps us see beyond the definitions of “doing” rather than “being.” Yoga, through concentration on the breath, helps us step out of this cocktail party world into one where we can see what comes up for us.

We learn to see how we respond and react to difficult situations. We learn to hear our self talk. We learn to see how we connect to other people. On a yoga mat, or a meditation cushion, or even breathing deeply while lying flat on your back on the couch recovering from surgery, it does not matter what you “do” in life. The president of the United States meditating is no different than the janitor in the White House meditating. 

And the more we tap into that inner being, that inner power, the more of what we do in life becomes a manifestation of our inner self. We may not physically change our work, but we are no longer defined by it. We define how we do it. Our identity need not be tied up in what we do, but rather in who we are, and how we share that with the world. 

So, the answer is that the yogi and the lawyer can absolutely coexist when they are both manifestations of the deepest self. The conflict arises when we allow lawyer and yogi to define who we think we are. I think there is more to say on this, but right now, I am not sure what that is. I would love to hear your thoughts.

Do you define yourself by your work? Are you able to take the step to manifest your inner being and let the work flow from there?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2013, all rights reserved.

Thanksgiving Year to Year

One year ago, I was at the US Ambassador’s house in New Zealand celebrating Thanksgiving in summer. And without realizing it, I actually put the same clothes on today that I was wearing then (I looked at photos). And yes, this should tell you how a summer in NZ is very similar to a winter in Arizona, but I digress. One year ago, I was grateful for the 10 months I had spent in New Zealand, from an earthquake, to new friends, to beautiful adventures, to finishing a thesis.

And that thesis looked forward to this year. The thesis was all about representing children, and that is what I currently do, though I do it in a slightly different context than addressed in the thesis. But this year has been about integrating my years digging deep into yoga and the law and emerging with some semblance of a future. And this year has been hard. It has been a struggle to finally integrate theory and practice, in law, but also on and off the yogamat.

Law school is an interesting theoretical adventure. Traditionally, law school is learning the theory of the law, and some would argue we spend too much time on that in school. We spend our time reading cases of situations gone awry, and sometimes tragically so, but cases become stories, and the people are safely behind the pages. We are protected from their stories similarly to how we are protected from the stories of the protagonists in a movie. 

But the practice of law is anything but peoples’ lives on a page. Instead, the practice of law is about peoples’ lives in your face. Crisis after crisis arises, and lawyers are expected to stay rational and calm. Human nature wants to send us into screaming fits of rage and fear, but that is not our role. Instead, we are asked to answer with calm rationality and turn the theory into practice – look at the situation from a purely legal standpoint. There are, of course, advantages to this. But it throws our systems off if we do not pay attention.

Yoga is quite the opposite. Most people in the modern world come to yoga through the practice first. In fact few of them have any idea about the theory behind it. Some want some exercise, while others want to stretch after their own exercise. But the theory creeps in. Yogis begin to act with more compassion towards others after learning to act with more compassion for themselves. Yogis learn to respond rather than react to the crises that inevitably arise in their lives.

But that flow from theory to practice and back is anything but smooth. The day after Thanksgiving last year I was not at a Black Friday Sale. Instead, I was on a boat between the north and south islands of New Zealand and who should I see but the Ambassador? I said hello to him and then sat back down. Then I started crying. I was so grateful for all that had transpired that year in New Zealand. And I knew I was coming back to the United States to a job I had, in many ways, worked my entire life to have. How amazingly lucky could one person be?

And here we are at another Thanksgiving. I have spent this month finding things for which I am grateful, from my breath to the wonderful people with whom I get to work. Being a first year lawyer is one of the most difficult things I have ever done in my life. But it is also one of the most enlightening and inspiring.

And while I was doing tree pose from the tops of mountains in New Zealand last year, this year, my yoga practice has struggled through a sprained ankle, hip pain, and simply too little time. But I have started attending classes again, meditating in the mornings, doing some asana, and even teaching once per week at the courthouse.

But just yesterday, the week of Thanksgiving, I saw it shine through like never before. Someone decided to yell at me about something, and in the midst of the yelling, I sent him a little compassion and thought to myself, “may you be free of suffering and the root of suffering.” That particular phrase is more Buddhist than Yogic, but it was a moment of reflection rather than reaction. And then I walked away from the conversation and did something else. The yoga crept out from where it was hiding and offered me a little solace in the moment - and hopefully the person yelling at me, though the thought was silent.

Theory and practice. Back and forth.

It is tomorrow in New Zealand, which means it is already Thanksgiving. So I am going to celebrate two this year. Today is a deep sense of gratitude for all I have learned this year, the people who have inspired me whether a “difficult” teacher or a friend with a shoulder, and the amazing opportunities to understand the ebb and flow between theory and practice in law and yoga.

Whether celebrating Thanksgiving in a country far away from the United States at the US Ambassador’s residence or in central Tucson in the midst of being a first year lawyer, the sentiment is the same. I think Lionel Hampton said it best, “Gratitude is when memory is stored in the heart and not in the mind.”

Our hearts go with us wherever we are, and gratitude can arise in any moment. We can find all the quotes on the internet we want about gratitude, and learn all there is to know, but then it is about practicing that gratitude and feeling it deeply in the heart. That is the moment when theory meets practice. Can we take the sentiment of this day, this week, this month and carry it forward into our daily lives?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved.

Willing to "Fail"

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

Ironically, I learned an important lesson similar to Mark Twain’s quote about twenty years ago. It was shortly after Ricky Henderson broke the record for most stolen bases in baseball. I lived near Oakland, and at the time, he was something of a hero to me.

I loved baseball so much as a kid that I attended a baseball camp. I was one of about three girls there. Every morning was trivia time where if you answered a question correctly, you got a pack of baseball cards. The question was, “who has been thrown out more times than anyone stealing bases?” I raised my hand, sure I knew the answer, and (I think because I was one of so few girls) was called on first. My answer was simple – Ricky Henderson.

All the boys laughed at me. How could I be so stupid?!?! The guy asking the question gave me a look and asked something similar to, “is that your final answer?” I remember shaking, but sticking to my convictions and saying yes.

I got a new pack of baseball cards!

Today, all my baseball cards are in my mom’s attic, only because they are so worthless I cannot sell them, and I know nothing about the current state of baseball, though I learned a lot on my recent vacation with my cousins. But obviously that lesson about trying has always stuck with me. Those who succeed in what they do will only get there by “failing” many, many times. We have to be willing to risk something in order to make it somewhere. And as Mark Twain reminds us, looking back on our lives we are going to be a lot more frustrated by what we chose not to do than any of the mistakes we made.

But the bigger question is, “what does it mean to fail?” In sales, it means you are willing to hear no many, many times. In stealing bases, it means you will be thrown out many, many times. In lawyering, it means losing an argument in front of a judge. But those are the nouns, what people think of as failures. They are not. They are truly teachers and opportunities to learn to listen more, tune in to how to do it better, and make another attempt.

In other words, what we think of as “failing” is really a moment to reflect and learn. And that is the yoga.

Asanas (yoga postures) are great reminders of this. What better example than Vrksasana (tree pose)? Asanas mimick life, and vrksasana mimics trees. One leg is rooted firmly into the ground, and the arms lift up to the sky. At times it feels solid, at times it feels as though you are swaying in the wind, and at other times it feels as though you are in Windy Welly, and you will be uprooted at any moment. It just depends on the day. But none of those are failures and none of them are right. They are all moments to reflect and moments to be conscious.

On the days when I feel solid in balance poses such as tree, I try to make them more difficult by closing my eyes (try it, it is fun!). On the days when I just cannot keep one leg lifted I try to laugh. But some days it is frustrating! Why is it on some days the pose is not steady? Why can I not be steady every day? That moment of frustration, of feeling like a failure, comes in. And that is the moment of reflection.

At least I tried!

It is those moments when we learn the most about ourselves. If we were always steady on the mat, we would not learn that it is ok to falter. If we could do every posture the first time we tried, we would learn nothing about our bodies and through our bodies about our deepest selves. If the first time we sat to meditate, our minds emptied fully we would never learn to watch our thoughts and recognize them as simply thoughts and not as what define us.

It is these moments of what we sometimes see as failures that truly teach us who we are and give us our strength to move forward. And it is these moments of what we see as failure that make us break records.  And it is these moments of what we see as failures upon which we look twenty years later and think, “I am glad I gave it a shot and learned something.”

Perhaps our "failures" are really our moments of perfection and yoga.

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. 

Are You Listening?

I revealed in the previous post that one of the reasons I went to law school is because everyone seemed to think I would be a good lawyer because I liked to argue. The truth, however, is the real reason I went to law school was to give children a voice. It is a long story, and not really relevant to this post, but the short explanation is simple. Children have little to no voice in the legal process, and lawyers are one way to give them that voice. I wanted to ensure the courts were listening to children. Of course, the lack of job upon graduating from undergrad helped push me along as well, but I digress.

Yoga and law both teach us, nay require us, to listen. Yoga teaches us to listen on the deepest levels. As we learn to listen to our body’s cues, we can learn to heal the pain we associate with daily living, from movements we can do “at the desk” to asanas that take us into our deepest being. We learn to listen to the mind without judgment through meditation, and we learn to listen to the breath to learn what it has to teach us. In many ways, all of yoga is training for how to listen to ourselves and all we can learn about ourselves, and therefore, the world. Listening, with more than just our ears, is fundamental to the practice of yoga. 

Listening with more than our ears is also fundamental to our lives as lawyers. As lawyers, we tell stories. In order to tell those stories, we have to listen to our clients’ stories. We have to understand our clients better than they understand themselves, at least understand how their stories relate to legal ramifications. This means listening between the details and listening to the minutest detail to ensure that no stone is left unturned in order to provide them the best representation possible. Sometimes, when our clients do not have the words, we have to listen to their lack of words, to their body language and reaction to our questions.

Listening, in both yoga and law, therefore, is a deep exercise. It means understanding. It means stepping out of our own perspectives and stepping into the perspective of the other person. It means suspending our own biases and viewpoints in order to see the world through someone else’s eyes. It is the first step to moving beyond the concept of "my way or the highway." From there, we may step back into our own world and understanding, but the first step is to deeply listen. And this is where the tension starts.

We live in the modern world, a world that moves quickly and loudly. All the extra noise and distraction make it very difficult to tune into those deepest bits of information. Instead, the ding of the smartphone, the radio, the television, the other cars on the road, the planes flying overhead, and the kids screaming around us distract our attention and rip us away from what we may otherwise want to notice. 

In addition, we live in an action society, one in which action is rewarded while listening deeply is often considered idle. Lawyers, in particular, are action oriented. We have a bigger function than listening and telling stories. The lawyer’s job is to resolve crises, either before or after they happen. Thus, lawyers have a tendency to see the world through “fix-it” eyes. We hear a problem, and instead of listening to the entire story, we stop and think, “what can I do to fix it?” We get so used to fixing crises that, over time, we jump to conclusions without all the facts and expect to solve the crisis. The desire to make things right, therefore, can sometimes supersede the need to listen to ensure we solve the appropriate problems.

Yogis do not necessarily always listen better. People push through pain in order to get to the fullest expression of a pose when their bodies are not ready. We often fall into muscle memory to flow through postures not noticing how they are affecting us on that particular day. We ignore the breath as it becomes strained.

But then we can remember that each moment is an opportunity to come back to the state of listening. Each moment is the perfect moment to recognize what it means to listen deeply. From there, we can find the appropriate solutions for the appropriate situations. Listening requires us to step outside ourselves and tune in to whatever is happening, whether it is what we expect or not. That can be a scary prospect. It means letting go of preconceived notions and simply being present in whatever is happening.

But when we hold that space options and opportunities arise that we never dreamed possible. We settle cases and learn to stand on our heads, or simply learn to stand on our own two feet with full awareness of all that is happening around us.

Are you listening?

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved.

The Power of Life

I grew up in Northern California. It has the perfect climate for an abundance of life, including trees, birds, mammals, flowers, etc. After growing up in California, I went to the University of Michigan where squirrels and birds frolic in the plethora of trees. But then I went to the University of Arizona for law school.

Prior to relocating to Tucson, I had only been there twice. I love the beauty of the rocks, but over time living there, one thing became abundantly clear – I missed trees. The lack of trees started to grate on me. It seemed almost too metaphorical for law school and the legal profession.

But then I opened my eyes. I started taking yoga seriously in law school and started taking it very seriously my third year and while studying for the bar exam. It was then that I noticed how amazing the desert really is. Life exists where all reason says it should not. My favorite example is the Ocotillo cactus, which people often cut down and use to make fence posts. Rationality suggests that cutting down the cactus would kill it, but each spring these fence posts come alive and grow leaves and even flowers. It is incredible.

Living in New Zealand since January has been healing for me. This country does not lack for trees. So it has been easy for me to forget the desert lessons, but last week, I got my reminder . . . this time on a volcano. If people did not know before February, they now know that New Zealand is earthquake prone. What is less well known, however, is that its largest city, Auckland, sits on a few (read 52) volcanoes. I’m starting to wonder why anyone lives in this country . . . but I digress.

Last week, I visited the most recent eruption. It is an island called Rangitoto, which was created 600 years ago when the volcano erupted. It is an island, therefore, made purely of lava. There is no dirt. There were no trees. There was no life.

Today, Rangitoto has the largest Pohutekawa (a NZ tree that flowers at Christmas time, so it is called the Christmas Tree) Forest in the country. I was expecting a day walking on lava. Instead, I got a day walking through lush forest. In fact, the only lava you could really see was in the lava caves and along the road where the trees had been cut down to make the road. There are even NZ fern trees.

A view of the lush landscape on the island looking back to Auckland City.

A view of the crater, full of trees.

A NZ fern tree.

In 600 short years, out of molten lava came a beautiful forest. If the ocotillo cactus is not a great testament to life, the lava forest should be. It may sound cheesy, but I like to think of these examples when life seems incredibly difficult. Sitting in an office all day, devoid of nature, it can be very easy to forget how powerful life and nature can be. It is necessary to step outside and remind ourselves. Yoga is about being present and taking stock of the world around you. Sometimes that is the best way to remember how powerful life can be. Where do you most notice the power of life?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2011, all rights reserved.

Finding the Residue

“But once you begin to observe and pay attention and be brought into the present, it is profoundly powerful. It almost doesn’t matter what does that for you, yoga or something else. The techniques, the asanas, are not the yoga. The residue that the techniques leave is the yoga. When we begin to look deeply at our speech, our posture, our breath, our thoughts, our choices, or our values, and observe those with compassion and a certain distance, we are changed forever.” – Judith Hanson Lasater

This quote comes from an interview Judith Hanson Lasater did on YogaDork the other day, in two parts (here and here). I have always liked her style, and the interview is very interesting, though focused on what it means to be a yoga teacher today. Thus, it may not speak to many people who are not yoga teachers.

Her point in this quote, however, is vital to lawyers and other professionals. If you read this blog often, you know how important I think it is to tune into the breath, to stop for a moment, and breathe. Personally, I believe it is the #1 stress management technique we have at our disposal, if for no other reason than the fact that we can do it anywhere and at anytime. We always have our breath, and it does not take years of practice to learn to breathe. It is both the first and last individual action we take.

The breath is also the quickest way to bring us into the present. Researching and writing legal memoranda, phone calls to clients, and answering emails are all ways to think about the past and prepare for the future. Unlike focusing on the breath, these tasks of everyday life take us out of the present. Yoga, by contrast, through asanas and breath awareness, bring us back to the present. As Lasater points out, yoga is not the only tool for this; I know plenty of people who run and swim for similar reasons.

But so what? Why should we care if we are always somewhere other than the present? Why should we care if our minds are running in a million different directions?

There are many, many reasons, but I like where Lasater takes her answer. Yoga, by bringing us into the present, helps bring us a healthy distance from those thoughts. We can look at them and recognize they do not define our being; instead they are simply thoughts. Like a good lawyer who is asked to look upon a case dispassionately, focusing only on the relevant facts for the case, when we come into the present through the breath or asanas, we can look upon our thoughts going by in hyperspeed for what they are: thoughts going by in hyperspeed.

From that place of distance, ironically we find compassion. We can see these thoughts as what our mind does to stay busy. We can recognize when we get lost in the same story over and over again, and let that story go. We can recognize when other people get stuck in their stories over and over again, and we can find compassion for other peoples’ stories, even if we disagree with them.

In today’s political climate, with protests spreading around the world (yes, there was even an Occupy event here in the small town where I am living in New Zealand), more and more people are turning to their stories, whatever they are. I have watched some great yogis and Buddhists speak at these protests (here, here, and here), and their message is always the same – it is not about deciding what you are against; it is deciding what you are for!

Seane Corn, a yogi, asked people to be FOR unity and love. Robert Thurman, a Buddhist, asked the protestors to have compassion and sympathy for the bankers. Marianne Williamson, an author, asked people to keep it smart, nonviolent, and growing. But my point here is not about the protests and what they should be. The point is that it is through awareness of our breath and our asana practice that we can find the ability to have compassion for others, even the ones we are “supposed to hate.”

For lawyers, this means seeing the “other side” not as an enemy and a battle to be fought and won, but as a person with a story, a mind on hyperspeed, just like each of us. For all of us, this means seeing people with whom we disagree as human beings, worthy of our compassion. It does not mean we never get annoyed with others (just drive with me if you want to see someone get annoyed too fast). But it does mean that when we catch ourselves in that moment of annoyance, and perhaps hate and vitriol, that we stop and remember to look dispassionately and then with compassion.

The residual benefits of yoga, therefore, become the most important. What do you do to stop yourself from going down the path of vitriol? Can you find compassion for your own thoughts? For others?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2011, all rights reserved.

Being Careful with Words

I love words. I am really only starting to understand this phenomenon in my life, but I love them. Perhaps it stems from reading and writing about philosophy in my 6^th grade research project. Perhaps it stems from learning French and majoring in Comparative Literature and French and living in France two different times. Perhaps it stems from living in a house with 6 people, 3 of whom were either linguists or closely related and another one whose vocabulary rivals the Oxford English Dictionary. Perhaps it is even why I went to law school and probably why I blog. Yes, words are important in my life.

The more I realize how important words are, the more I realize how careful we must be with them. While the exact percentage changes every time I see it, there is no question that the vast majority of our communication remains non-verbal. So as wonderful as words are, they are never the entire story. Thus, words on a page can be misinterpreted. They can be read with a tone not intended by the writer. This is part of the phenomenon that leads to the Downward Spiral of Email.

But there is another problem with words. We assume that they have one meaning, when in reality they can have different meanings in different languages, but sometimes in the same language but across countries. When living in France, I expected this would be a problem. We spent some time learning about les faux amies – “false friends” – words that look the same between the languages but have very different meanings.

My favorite example is the English word preservatives. While in English, this is something that is put into our “food,” in French, the word “preservatif” is the word for condom. This creates a slight problem for American students who head to France and inform their French host families and friends that they love France because there are no “preservatifs” in the food. You can imagine the look of surprise. Luckily, we were forewarned, so I did not make that mistake – came close at least once though.

I knew there were differences between English around the globe as well. When teaching in France, a French student once asked an English woman and me if we spoke the same language, and we just laughed. Examples? I learned not to tell her that I was pissed when I was around children, but to say pissed off (not at the children, do not worry, but at a situation in which I found myself where children were also present). I also learned that pants means something different, and I should use the word trousers when stating that they can be worn more than once. And to stay on the French topic, the one word I would not teach the French children was rubber, the Commonwealth word for what those in the United States would call an eraser. Are you noticing a theme to these words?

But I thought I knew them all when I came here to New Zealand. I thought I would be able to communicate effectively. Before arriving in the country, however, a friend who had spent substantial time in Australia warned me that you do not root for teams on this side of the Pacific – rooting has a very different meaning.

What does this look at words have to do with law? With yoga? I hope it is a reminder that we cannot just assume that people understand us. We cannot assume that what we think others are communicating is really what they mean. Yes, it is much quicker and easier to assume that our interpretation is correct and that others will somehow magically understand us, but that is not how the world works.  Unfortunately, the modern world requires us to move faster and faster, taking less time to ask questions, less time to clarify, and less time to actually have the face-to-face interactions that help minimize (though not eradicate) miscommunications.

Yoga off the mat means reflecting on these issues. While there are sometimes humorous interactions, believe me, there are also disastrous ones. Miscommunications become misunderstandings, which become downward spirals, which become intense dislike. But a few moments of awareness and clarification can help alleviate this problem. A few moments of yoga off the mat can ensure that we are communicating as well as we can and not gaining the essence of words rather than a knee-jerk reaction and assumption to what is happening around us.

Where have you most noticed miscommunication in your life? How have you tried to alleviate it?

Namaste!

© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved

License to Fidget

Have I mentioned how much I hate chairs? Seemingly unassuming, these flat ledges for our bums on top of four little legs are one of the most toxic additions to modern society. And yes, most lawyers (including me) spend hours upon hours per day sitting in them.

The problems are numerous – they tighten our psoas muscles, creating low back pain, they cut off circulation to our feet, and they force us to be in a position that nature never intended, certainly not for the number of hours per day we are there. But these are small potatoes compared to their allowing us to spend our days completely inactive.

The last post was about the bouncing foot syndrome that permeates law. The problem with the bouncing foot syndrome is that it is often caused by stress, and it is done usually unconsciously. Certainly, it is something about which we should be mindful, but is it all bad?

The NY Times reminded me again this week, however, that the bouncing foot syndrome serves another purpose, one that is far less problematic and is actually probably very good for us. When we bounce, we move, and when we move, good things happen in our bodies from a reduced waistline to increased brain power. Chairs mean we enter the physiology of inactivity (an old NY Times article on the topic), where our metabolism slows down, our neurons turn off, and disease begins to take over.

The good news is that the littlest movements make a difference. A recent study found that the difference between slim people and obese people who were forced to follow a strict diet without exercise was that the slim people just move more in general – the little movements, including tying shoes, and yes, bouncing feet. These little movement contract muscles and move neurons, and they help prevent the disease and other problems associated with the physiology of inactivity.

So what does yoga have to do with it? The difference between the bouncing foot “syndrome” and movement to counteract the physiology of inactivity is the very basis of yoga – mindfulness. To the outside observer, there may not be a difference. You, while sitting in a chair, can make these small movements, and others will not know whether they are stress-induced or mindful attempts to reduce the problems associated with our sedentary lifestyles.

To you, however, the difference is huge! It is also not discussed in either of the NY Times articles above. When we act from a place of mindfulness, asking our bodies to move, we are actually in the process of managing our stress rather than being controlled by it. Much of our stress is caused by the sedentary lifestyle, by the demands that we associate with sitting in a chair in front of a computer all day; we associate the desk with work and deadlines and stress. But if instead of allowing that stress to control us, we choose to control it, we can begin to move beyond the stress.

What can you do? Start by taking a breath. Ask yourself where your body wants to move. Is contracting your toes enough? Is tapping your foot enough? Is rolling your shoulders enough? Is standing up and sitting down enough? Do you need to take a walk down the hall? What does your body need now? The good news is that most of these little movements can be done while working at a desk, and each one will aid in counteracting the slowdown of metabolism and the stress caused by sitting all day long.

Call it your license to fidget – but to fidget mindfully.

Namaste. 

© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved

Presence of a Mountain

In the last post, I discussed the difference between living in disaster mode, as lawyers are often required to do, and living in the present, lest we create disasters within ourselves. Talking about being present, however, is different than being present. In theory, it is easy to discuss, but how do we do it?

On my Facebook page, I have a daily weekday tip, and each week has a theme / intention. This week’s intention is “remaining present.” On Wednesdays, we focus on an asana that exemplifies the week’s intention. This week’s asana is Mountain Pose or Tadasana.

Like trees, mountains have a lot to teach us, and mountain pose embodies the attributes of a mountain. Mountains are often created by earthquakes and volcanoes, the very environmental situations dominating our lives these past few weeks. The Southern Alps, running across New Zealand’s south island, have been created by the coming together of the Pacific Plate and the Indo-Australian Plate, which lie along the Pacific Rim of Fire, which has been causing all the recent activity. At any moment, these plates can create another earthquake moving the mountains and changing their structure.

But when the plates are not moving, the mountains just exist. They majestically rise up, holding steady, looking strong against the sky. While I have no research to back up the statement, I would argue that most people are awed by mountains. From Mt. Olympus, where the Greek Gods lived, to Mt. Sinai upon which Moses was provided the Ten Commandments, mountains hold a strong place in our lives and our collective stories.

In many ways, tadasana could be described as a simple pose and not very physically demanding. It could be described simply as standing. It is, however, like so much of yoga, not about outward appearance; it is about what is going on inside. Tadasana is about finding the inner strength of a mountain and rooting down through the feet, feeling deep into the Earth and then lifting the crown of your head up, straight above the spine, like the peaks of our grandest mountains. It is about finding grace and strength, all while “simply standing” and being present.

Interestingly, our greatest lesson of Tadasana may come from English. In English, “tada” is what we say when we want to call attention to something, to create fanfare but also for accomplishment and pride. It is a word of presence, of becoming present to the extraordinary. Thus, in an interesting play on words having nothing to do with mountains, the English explanation “tada” is about presence, and Tadasana, Mountain Pose, is about bringing us to the present.

Tadasana has one more purpose. It is a posture of its own, but it is also the posture from which all standing postures begin and to which we return after each standing posture. It is the place where we regroup, find our breath, and find our center. No matter where we go, whether it be a sun salutation, a balance posture, or a warrior sequence, we come back to the steady concentration of the mountain. When we are on the mat, tadasana is our home, it is our sense of presence.

Tadasana, therefore, can bring us back to the present moment at any time. We can invoke the power and grace and majesty of a mountain. No matter how scattered and crazy life gets, the mountain just gets more stable. It reaches higher to the sky with each shake of the underlying tectonic plates, and it becomes even more beautiful to view. We can embrace this power when we feel scattered, when we feel like the world is falling out from beneath us. In that moment, we can tune in, be present, and rise up like the mountain and say, “tada” I am here, I am strong, I am present.

Namaste!

© 2011 Rebecca Stahl, all rights reserved

This blog is not affiliated with Fulbright or Fulbright New Zealand, and all opinions expressed herein are my own.