FEEDING THE KITTY

FEEDING THE KITTY

This morning I got myself to yoga class.

I have a hard time with making time for yoga (and anything else that might be deemed “self-improvement”). When I make my mental list of priorities, I have a tendency to put such activities at the bottom of the list. And then, too, I have a fear of becoming a Hollywood cliché – the self-indulgent woman in the sunglasses, totally obsessed with her own navel.

On the other hand, whenever I do go to yoga class, I find it extremely centering, relaxing, and reassuring. I don’t necessarily think it makes me a better person, but I don’t think it makes me self-indulgent, either. We have to take up time in our lives doing something, so some of it might as well be something that makes us feel better.

I have another motivation for going to yoga class, and that is my health. Evidence seems to point to the health benefits of yoga practice for everything from reducing high blood pressure to strengthening the immune system. Being a cancer survivor, I am especially interested in strengthening my immune system. That alone may be justification enough for taking time for taking this class twice a week.

But isn’t it interesting that I’m writing about it in an effort to defend my choice. There is a little voice inside that just hammers away at me saying things like, “You are so selfish”, and “What are you accomplishing, can you tell me that”? and “Who are you kidding? You can’t do yoga! You’re not spiritual enough” and “Even if you were spiritual enough, you would never be a) strong enough b) graceful enough c) persistent enough”. And, “Don’t you realize how many really ‘important’ things you could be doing – for someone else – instead of this”? And the ever popular, “What a waste of money”! There are probably a lot more such statements that go on just below conscious awareness.

My yoga teacher says that you can “invite that critical little voice in to tea”, instead of trying to suppress her. He says you can have a dialog with the “shadow side”. That rather than try to get rid of all those negative messages, we should embrace them as a part of ourselves. The idea is that if you try to put a lid on those thoughts and feelings, they’ll just grow underground and become more powerful. That makes sense to me, and yet it’s very hard to get my mind wrapped around the idea of “embracing” such a nasty persona.

But maybe I could answer that voice by saying that there’s room in my life for all of it. For being a good friend, a caring daughter, a loving sister, a wife to my husband, a writer, a dreamer, a citizen of the world, and a student of yoga. There’s room in my life for a lot more than that, too. But – remember that wonderful old game, Monopoly? You can’t even begin to play until you “feed the kitty”. The “kitty” is the fuel. Without that, you can’t even spin the dice. So in life, we also have to feed the kitty! If you starve the kitty, you won’t be any good to anyone!

May I suggest, dear reader, that you, too find some way to “feed the kitty”, whether it’s a quiet walk, reading a good book, taking a swim, or gardening. Or maybe, taking a yoga class. Namaste.

© 2005, Robin Munson

ONE MINUTE AT A TIME

ONE MINUTE AT A TIME

Yesterday I spent the day with my mother. Mom has emphysema (among other things). We had a long discussion about how best to play the hand life deals you. It seems there are two major schools of thought where such matters are concerned.

The first school of thought is the fatalistic one. Many people, when faced with very difficult issues, are convinced that they are in the grip of some larger force – be it fate, or God, or genetics – that ultimately must prevail. In essence, they follow the path of least resistance. This is known as acceptance. My father was one person who took that approach. When he was faced with a diagnosis of terminal lung cancer, he refused all treatment except for the palliative. He would not submit to invasive tests, surgeries, or even consultations. He made his peace with the inevitable. I don’t blame Daddy. He was tired. His life had been fraught with all sorts of health challenges, as well as personal and professional difficulties. I think he was just worn out and wanted some well-deserved rest.

The second school of thought is just the opposite – self-determinism. My mom is a perfect example. At 77 she is hell-bent on wringing every drop of happiness she can from her life before she throws in the towel. She takes her medicines every day – and there are a lot of them. She refuses to take her insurance company up on their offer of a motorized wheelchair because she knows that walking is better for her overall health. (She walks her little dog Mugsy four times a day)! She shows up for her doctor’s appointments even if she has to take the bus. She is even making an attempt to eat healthy foods, which is a big deal for a woman who once lived on shrimp cocktail and hot fudge sundaes. She is absolutely fearless in her battle. I can’t help but admire her and want to emulate her courage.

There may be a third school, too, as I’m thinking about it. This is the approach that is a combination of both fatalism and self-determination. You might say that it is the “A.A.” approach. To paraphrase the Alcoholics Anonymous prayer, you accept the things you cannot change, change the things you cannot accept, and pray for the wisdom to know the difference.

Back when I was facing some pretty scary health challenges, I found that I was able to place faith in my doctors as well as my own ability to heal myself. I figured it was worth a shot to try everything that I could try, and then to trust that God or Fate or some greater force would partner up with me and take care of the rest – whatever the rest was. So I did my homework, read whatever I could, talked to different health practitioners, and tried to be in tune with my own body so that I could “listen” to what it was telling me. I did not limit my search for answers to western medicine or eastern medicine or homeopathy or supplements or acupuncture. I took a “whatever it takes” approach, while in the background of all this drama, a little voice kept whispering in my ear not to be afraid – no matter what happened, I would be okay.

Of course, nobody is entirely in one camp or another. There were moments when I think Daddy was in fighting mode and could not accept. There are moments when I think my mother is too overwhelmed to fight and becomes more accepting. And as for me, I was all over the map. In my experience, when I’m in jeopardy, I bounce around like a ping-pong ball. One day I’m up, one day I’m down. One day I’m scared out of my wits, and the next day I’m cool as a cucumber. Sometimes I get really angry and other times I’m simply grateful. In fact, sometimes it’s minute-to-minute. Whatever problems may be confronting me, I can only tackle them in tiny increments – in other words – for as long as it takes for my mood to shift. So I guess I have adapted another old A.A. adage in keeping with all of this: One minute at a time.

© 2005, Robin Munson