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.

A Future Together

Today is my 31^st birthday.

I say that only because one year ago, I wrote a post on my 30^th birthday, and in it, I promised to live my life for others, to consciously use yoga to refill my reserves to be of service to the world. But as I pointed out in the last post, I had back surgery 2.5 weeks ago, and I have not been this reliant on other people since I was a child. This has gotten me thinking about my post a year ago.

Yoga and the law have something in common I have not really considered until now. In many ways, they are both solitary activities. And yet, I have learned more about community from both of them than anything else in my life. And that is just the point. Both of them could be very isolating unless we consciously open up to the support and encouragement of those around us.

For example, at my job I have my own case load. I meet with my clients, prepare for hearings, and participate in hearings. When emails and phone calls come on a case, I respond. But I work in an office with several other lawyers, and we all help each other. When I have a question, I find someone who might know the answer. If it is one of those situations where there may not be an answer (all too common in the legal profession and the world), we discuss the issue until we figure out how best to move forward. I could choose not to interact on that level, but it is through the interaction with others that I learn so much.

Yoga works similarly. A yoga practice could certainly be on a mat or a meditation cushion in your own home. And as I have learned these past few weeks, it can also be flat on your back on the couch just remembering to breathe and let go. Even in a community class, the practice is internal. No teacher, no matter how great, can know what you are feeling in your own body. And yet the teacher, as well as the other students, can help us learn to understand ourselves on a deeper level. It is the presence of the community that helps us understand and connect.

I wrote last year’s post about dedicating myself to others for a few reasons. First, I realized that my 20’s were a bit self-serving. And second, I firmly believe the legal profession is an opportunity to serve the community, and we should treat it as such.

But the individualism/community aspects of both the legal profession and yoga and great examples of how we need to balance the service to ourselves and the service to others. And sometimes we have to accept the help from others as well.

The world is more interconnected than it has ever been before. We are developing new ways to communicate faster and faster. And yet, somehow, we are more distant from one another. So many of us have our heads in ten, or more, different places at once, that they are rarely with the people around us. We have brief interactions, brief facebook notes, or brief text messages that would make Shakespeare roll over in his grave. But that is not enough to sustain us.

We can turn inward at times and be solitary creatures. We need that time alone to rest and rejuvenate. We can be part of the community just for fun at times and enjoy other human company. And we can serve the community, be there for our friends and family, and support the world. All of these happen together. They are a symbiotic relationship.

Last year’s post was called “A Future for Others.” That is why this year’s post is called “A Future Together.” I have learned this past year how necessary it is, at times, to reach out and ask for help. Sometimes that means help with writing an appeal, and sometimes that means help doing the laundry. And there are plenty of moments to offer a hand when someone is in need. And through it all, there are times we need to retreat from the world for a brief sojourn and refill our yoga buckets to continue being able to be a part of this world together.

How do you connect best with others? Have you had to ask for help recently? Have you had to offer help? How do you restore your sanity?

Namaste.

© Rebecca Stahl 2013, all rights reserved. 

Waking Up

I have a confession. I am a yoga teacher who, three weeks shy of her 31^st birthday, had back surgery. In the grand scheme of back surgery, it was minimal and non-invasive, but it was back surgery. And it changed my life. And I am finally waking up to the multitude of ways it changed my life, and all of the lessons touch on themes this blog has addressed over the years. Only a few of them can be addressed here, but there is no question this experience, the surgery and what led to it, has been a turning point in my life.

The first way it changed my life is that now I can walk again. I really did not want to get into it before, but for about a week prior to surgery, I could barely walk three steps without stabbing, shooting pain in my entire right leg and foot. Sciatica is a scary thing, and it can have so many causes, but as the orthopedist who looked at my MRI said, I was an easy diagnosis. I had a huge herniated disc. But just a few hours after surgery I walked down the hallway in the hospital. I walked slowly, and someone was with me, but I walked. The next day, I climbed two flights of stairs.  Today, two weeks after surgery, I took a 30-minute walk. 

It seems silly for someone who spent three days backpacking last year to be excited for a 30-minute walk, but that is a really big deal to me after the months of physical pain. And this is a great reminder that we cannot judge ourselves by what others can do. I was getting a bit jealous of a dog earlier today who is able to do upward facing dog pose and downward facing dog pose (there are reasons they have these names), and I was told not to stretch at all right now. But it was a great reminder to just be where I am. We cannot judge ourselves by how others are in yoga classes or at work or at life, and we certainly cannot judge ourselves by our pets. Some days a 3-day backpacking trip is where we are, and other days a 30-minute walk is where we are. Neither one is good or bad. It is simply our body, our situation, on any particular day.

But being able to walk again has not been the only benefit of surgery. It has woken me up to what it means to let go and feel true community and true gratitude. It has woken me up to the fact that we cannot always explain why things happen even if we think or know there should be a reason, but we can accept that they have happened and move forward.

I spent most of this holiday season flat on my back recuperating, but I also went to a Christmas dinner at which no one expected me until two days before Christmas, slept in three peoples’ homes (one of them twice), and had a friend come stay with me for a few nights, and have been driven to a variety of appointments by a variety of people. Never before have I had to rely on people so much. There are definite moments of frustration (on my part and theirs), but overall, I have seen that there are a lot of people willing to lend a hand, and that is an amazing feeling.

And it is not just an amazing feeling because all these people have taken care of me. Believe me, I am grateful for that. Supremely grateful. But on a deeper level, it is amazing and wonderful to be reminded of the willingness we have to help one another. I wrote about this on Christmas Day. But the past ten days since then have just been one reminder after another about the way we connect and help each other when it is necessary. I do not think we can write about this, talk about this, and live this too much. I want to shout from the rooftops about our need to connect, but alas, I cannot climb onto a roof right now. 

Acceptance has been another lesson. Not just superficial acceptance, but deep acceptance. I have missed a lot because of the pain and surgery. I missed two really big family functions and a lot of work. I missed spending time with friends and family over the holidays because even when I was with them, all I could think about what the pain or the fact that I had just had surgery. But a huge lesson we gain from yoga is the ability to accept where we are in life and let go of our expectations of what should be. This does not mean we do not try to change and work toward goals, but it means that sometimes life does not happen as we expect. And learning to accept that is a big step toward our own sanity.

Anyone who has been around me the past several weeks knows this has been a difficult lesson for me to learn. I have been analyzing this situation from every angle imaginable. I have explanations for every twinge of recovery pain and have spent hours on online forums reading and learning about herniated discs and surgery. But guess where all that analyzing has gotten me? It has made me crazy.

These past few days, however, have been different. I still notice the twinges of pain and notice how drastically different my body is. But the need to understand why has faded. That is the lawyer need. We like to understand, as if that is ever fully possible. Sometimes we just have to be. Sometimes, we just have to accept that we do not fully understand. That is a scary concept to this lawyer, and I am sure to many others as well. But I am in a very different state of mind since making that shift. And not surprisingly, I am also in less pain.

No one has an explanation as to why I herniated a disc. No one has an explanation as to why it did not respond to all the non-invasive techniques of healing that I tried. Instead, I ended up on an operating table. But I woke up from anesthesia and the experience with a very different outlook. Sometimes these things happen, and there is no explanation, and the fact that you do a bunch of yoga and take care of your body in other ways does not change the fact that our bodies are fragile at times. And learning to accept that fact without trying to understand it has been a wondrous and valuable lesson. It has also been incredibly difficult, and believe me, not fully learned.

This weekend I finally feel like I am waking up from the fog of pain and surgery, and I am waking up to a world where I can be more accepting . . . or at least attempt to be. And still, I am sometimes jealous of dogs who can stretch. But overall, the experience has woken me up to truly understanding the lessons I have been trying to learn for years. Sometimes the universe operates in mysterious ways.

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2013, all rights reserved.

When the Universe Speaks

"Nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know." - Pema Chodron

I firmly believe that the universe likes to teach us lessons, sometimes in more intense ways than others. We may not always know what the lesson is, but it continues to come at us. For some people, they end up in the same relationship over and over again. For some lawyers, they end up always dealing with opposing counsel with whom they cannot get along. For some yogis, they get that same twinge of pain every time they push themselves too far.

How many times have you been working incredibly intensely only to finally take your vacation and that is when you get sick? To me, that is the lesson that you needed to stop sooner.

But we live in a culture that not only ignores those lessons, but idolizes those most capable of ignoring them. Who can go the longest without sick leave? Who can push through the pain the most? And when we can no longer push through the pain, there are all sorts of medications we can take to dull, or completely kill, the pain, both physically and emotionally. And these meds are easy to get, very easy.

But numbing the pain, or even going to a yoga class once per week to bring some "balance" into life does not rid us of whatever is trying to get our attention. It just makes it come back with more and more force until we finally pay it some heed or until it knocks us flat on our backs.

I used to ignore my body and health completely. It was about ten years, perhaps a bit more, when that began to change. But even more than a decade into this, the cues can be easy to miss, and even easier still is the cultural pressure to just push on through. But the truth is that the lesson always wins. We always have to face it, and it is much easier to face up front than when it has become too big to manage simply.

But sometimes we do not know what we are supposed to learn. Sometimes all we need to learn is that it is OK to slow down, that it is even beneficial to us long-term. Sometimes the lessons are deeper. Hiding from the repeated lesson may make the noticeable pain disappear, even forever. But it also deprives us of something we could gain. If there is a lesson, and I tend to believe there is, that lesson could do more than stop the pain from coming back. It could help us see how we can grow. Would it not be easier to stop hurting ourselves in our asana practice and eventually understand our body's cues? Would it not be easier to find ways to change ourselves so the people with whom we interact respond better to us? Would it not be better to live happier lives rather than dulled lives?

The universe talks to us in ways we may not always want to hear, and often "don't have time to hear." But it will keep talking. And while I have often pushed the lessons to the side to live my "real life," I have always regretted doing that. And this year especially, I have been forced to face the universe's lessons in new, and more powerful, ways. They literally laid me flat on my back.

I am not a big fan of New Year's resolutions. Instead, I like to think about intentions. The world is moving faster and faster than ever before, and it is easier to hide from that which we do not want to face in our lives until it literally knocks us over. If I have learned one thing from my year of being a lawyer (and I knew this going in, but it really hit me how true it is this year), it is that the work is never done. We could work 24/7, and still never be finished. That is probably true for a lot of other people as well in the modern world. 

Yoga has always been my separation from that world. I actually have yoga scheduled on my work calendar. I realized that was necessary halfway through this year. But as we sit here on the cusp of 2013, and I think about my intentions for the new year, I am struck by how important it is to actually learn to tune into the universe's messages on an entirely deeper level. 

Yes, we have to stop and breathe. But we also have to stop and listen. Anyone who has access to this blog lives in a world with more ways of connecting, healing, and living than ever before in human history. This is amazing! But how many of us actually take the time to listen? I have been lucky to have some amazing teachers along this path, but these past few weeks, I have learned the lesson that sparked this post in the first place. We can have all these tools at our disposal, we can have all the support (or lack of support) in the world, but we actually have to be the ones to do it ourselves. 

And that is my intention for the new year - follow the universe's teachings, to listen, and to learn. Interestingly it is not much different than last year's, which was to trust myself. But this is slightly different on a nuance level. It is to trust that when we stop and listen, when we trust ourselves at our deepest levels, the answers will be there. The universe speaks. And when we can clear out all the chatter of the world and the push to move faster and faster, we can hear what it has to say. After all, as Pema reminds us above, "nothing ever goes away until it has taught us what we need to know." So, my intention is to learn that lesson earlier and easier.

What is your intention for the new year?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved

Another Kind of Community

I have written frequently about community on this blog. Community is incredibly important wherever we go, and on this blog, the focus on community has, not surprisingly, focused on legal and yoga communities. Over the course of the last several years, I have learned to find community in yoga classes, at professional conferences, and even in the blogosphere. Community is what keeps us going, and finding so many different communities has been one of the greatest personal benefits of writing this blog.

These past few weeks I found more community, the one that should be staring us all in the face all the time, but sometimes we fail to see it. It is the community we always have with us, the one that steps out of the woodwork when we really need them. It includes our close friends and family, but it is larger than that.

Someone said to me yesterday, "Like most people, I want to help." I have a lot of respect for that person, both as an individual and as someone who understands other people as well. That simple statement opened my eyes to the communities we carry around with us in our lives. What better time than Christmas to recognize our connection to each other? It is that time of year when even when we do not celebrate the holiday, we notice that people smile more, people talk to each other more, and the atmosphere is full of joy.

But that sentiment need not be confined to December. As my friend reminded me, people like to help one another. Human beings are social creatures. Whether back when we were hunter gatherers or today when our food comes to us in plastic wrap, we need other people to survive. And our society does best when everyone in it is cared for, and we personally do best when we can participate in that caring.

On a yoga mat, it is easy to feel that connection to people, but it can be difficult when we are running around in the hustle and bustle of life. But that is just the point. Sometimes life forces us to remember. Sometimes life stops us in our tracks and says, people are here to help. You are not alone. Even though we live in a society that awards people who can do everything on their own and seem to be self-made, the truth is that none of us can do that forever. Eventually we need the help, and eventually we need to help others.

The conferences and yoga classes are great places to expand our communities and find new people with whom to engage and learn. But the real community is our everyday lives. It is the people we interact with on a daily basis, the ones who just want to help because that is what people do for each other.

May this holiday time be your reminder of how vast your community is and how connected we really are to each other, whether we have met in person or not. How do you get reminded about your community? How have you reached out to your community?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, 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.

Finding our Light

I have been a bit quiet recently, but there is a reason. And I have to say, Chanukah could not have come at a better time for me. These past few weeks have been intensely painful for me, and I have not been sure how to write about them. My hip pain became debilitating sciatica essentially overnight. A trip to Urgent Care, a failed MRI, medication, yoga, breathing, stretching, relaxing, chiropractic care, acupuncture, and massage all ensued. The pain just got worse.

And all I keep thinking is, “I’m a yoga teacher!!! How am I in this much pain?!”

But then this beautiful and deeply personal post arrived from Roseanne at It’s All Yoga Baby. In it she describes her own recent depression and writes:

Underneath it all, however, is a vague sense that I’m failing at my practice, that I’m as broken and f[‘]d up as I was before I committed to yoga (chronic and clinical depression was what drove me to practice in the first place), that the practice isn’t working. There’s also the vague sense that I’m not allowed to be feeling this way – there are many stories of miraculous healing from depression (and everything else) through yoga, but nobody talks about the relapses. I feel like I’m doing something wrong.

While my issue has been more physical (though I fully believe physical pain can and does stem from emotional pain), I fully understand her sentiment here. I have been feeling embarrassed about the pain on several fronts, but mostly because I’m 30 years old, and I’m a yoga teacher. How can I be in such debilitating pain, especially from what appears to be really, really tight muscles.

It is extremely easy to get caught up in the pain and ignore the lessons. I would say I sort of have been living in that space. But there are brief reprises, brief moments where I can take the time and not only cognitively, but energetically and emotionally, see the gifts and lessons the pain has to offer. And the Festival of Lights has helped me see that.

First, as discussed before, our darkest places bring us closer to compassion and connection with others. I never fully understood how debilitating physical pain can be until the past two weeks. As a yoga teacher and a lawyer, I deal with people suffering from all varieties of pain. Having had an experience to relate to that pain changes not only how I interact with the person, but how they respond to what I say. It is very easy to stand on the outside, look at someone, and give them all sorts of ideas of how to make their lives “better.” It is quite different to look at them and say, “I feel what you are experiencing. I experienced something similar myself, and you are right. It is debilitating.”

This pain has taught me a different level of compassion as well. I often get upset with people who turn everything into a story about themselves and their own experiences. But these past two weeks, it has been comforting to hear from people who understand how painful sciatica is. I get a bit overwhelmed with everyone offering different advice, but the sympathy and understanding has been greatly beneficial. As a result, I have learned the importance of connecting with others through our own stories. We can offer our stories less as a way to say, “Look at me and my suffering” and more of a way to say, “I understand, and I know you can get better.”

And of course, this pain has been the universe’s way of telling me to slow down. That is a lesson I am not heeding so well. But I have learned where I feel comfortable letting go and where I still need to work. I have said it before, and I believe it even more today, meditation and yoga are “easy” at an ashram. I put easy in quotes because they are never actually easy, but they fit a structure and their lessons come more quickly. But try meditating in Times Square. Try meditating when the pain is searing through your leg. Try just breathing when you feel like all hope is lost.

And amazingly, in those moments, sometimes the breath does come. And for a brief glimpse of relief, the breath softens whatever is currently hardening us. It may be one breath in a hundred, but that one breath can be what keeps us going. And that has been the greatest lesson so far. Even when I feel as divorced from my practice as ever, something (or someone) always manages to bring me back.

It may feel like it needs a miracle similar to the miracle of Chanukah, but the holiday can help remind us that we all have that light within, and even when it feels impossible to reach, we can turn to it, and it can offer us a little hope that things can get better.

What lessons have you learned from stress, pain, depression, etc.? Are you able to find those brief glimpses of coming back to yourself? What helps?

Namaste!

© Rebecca Stahl 2012, all rights reserved.