28 weeks
"There is no worse sickness for the soul, o you who are proud, than this pretense of perfection."
I like to think I'm pretty easy going. Life's thrown me a few curve balls and I've managed to stay flexible in the figurative sense by not clinging to things that were never meant for me, and in the physical sense by accepting my body and all it's beautiful limitations.
My ongoing battle- and it's a tough one- has been to try to not define myself (and self-worth) by what I have accomplished. I am not what I do... but who I am as I do it. This involves cultivating a huge amount of self-acceptance, acknowledging that I'm not perfect and loving the shit out of myself anyway.
Having said all that, I realized recently that I'm a bit of a tight ass. I like things just so. I'm a slave to routine. I drink a mug of lemon water every morning without fail, and if I don't practice yoga at least four times a week and partake in some form of writing every day I literally lose my mind. I can't write, relax or socialize unless the room I'm sitting in is clutter free and smells nice. I can't stand it when people are late, nor can I stand it when people don't respond to messages or phone calls in a timely fashion. I check my email about twenty million times a day.
Also as you may remember in my initial blog post, one of the few persistent irritations in my pregnancy so far has been a constant and sometimes debilitating pain in my ass that radiates through my hip and down my left thigh and iliotibial band. I visited my massage therapist twice in 5 days, and both times she commented that my glute and hip muscles were gripping to my pelvis and femur for dear life. Her words exactly:
It's like they don't want to let go.
Hmm. Interesting.
A few weeks ago one of my favourite Vancouver yoginis Shivani Wells gave a very poignant and timely yoga class on the lesson of svāhā, or "surrender". Literally translated from the Rigveda (an ancient Indian collection of Vedic Sanskrit hymns) svaha means "oblation", an offering, or tossing of doubt into the flames to truly let go of whatever ails us.
Shivani let go of a lot recently. She suffered a brain injury while teaching a meditation class. She spoke very candidly about the decisions she's made, giving up teaching for long periods of time and dropping out of school to give her body a chance to heal. These are brave and difficult choices and I was overwhelmed with gratitude that she chose to share her struggles with us so openly.
As I breathed my way through Shivani's class that day, I couldn't help but notice the the pain in my behind. I'd been taking it easy, modifying my regular yoga practice more than I knew was necessary. And yet there my butt was, literally screaming for attention every day. In the safe space of my worn out old yoga mat, inspired by Shivani's bravery, I finally started listening. My ass had something to say.
I need to let go. I thought I was embracing my pregnancy, but I'm not. Not completely.
For example... what if at some point in my pre or post pregnancy I needed to give up yoga? Would I be willing to surrender, or would I grip even more tightly to the person I wanted to be, fighting to practice asana gracefully through labour and beyond. Would I hate myself if all I did was sit in bed for three months and stuff my face with Betty Crocker Super Moist Yellow sponge cake and canned chocolate icing? I probably would. So what does that say about my philosophy of self-acceptance?
Not so bendy flexy now are you Christina.
And it's not just about yoga. I decided to take a year off school, forget about my M.F.A and focus on being a new Mom. I made the decision knowing I could still work on other projects and turn my attention towards my degree next year. But what if I couldn't? I've picked up a project already, collaborating on a new film festival screenplay, which if successful would have us attending workshops a few weeks before the baby is due. We'd start filming in January. I figured I could do this no problemo, but what if it doesn't work out? I have no idea what my labour and post pregnancy will bring. I could be an exhausted mess, struggling to get through the day with my eyes open never mind creating a worthwhile cinematic collaboration.
And so in the silence of savasana I realized my biggest fear of all. What if in the end I accomplish nothing more significant in life than being a mother. In all honesty how would I feel about myself then?
So this lesson of surrender is an important one, at least for me as a new Mom. Surrender does not mean giving up, it means letting go of whatever expectations you may have of an experience so you can truly appreciate the experience itself. Maybe my yogic and creative journeys won't take the path I thought they would take, but that's life. If my path changes, it will be because there's something better out there for me. I'm not giving up my dreams, I'm just surrendering to a future I never imagined was possible.
Svāhā xo
"There is no worse sickness for the soul, o you who are proud, than this pretense of perfection."
- Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī
I like to think I'm pretty easy going. Life's thrown me a few curve balls and I've managed to stay flexible in the figurative sense by not clinging to things that were never meant for me, and in the physical sense by accepting my body and all it's beautiful limitations.
My ongoing battle- and it's a tough one- has been to try to not define myself (and self-worth) by what I have accomplished. I am not what I do... but who I am as I do it. This involves cultivating a huge amount of self-acceptance, acknowledging that I'm not perfect and loving the shit out of myself anyway.
Having said all that, I realized recently that I'm a bit of a tight ass. I like things just so. I'm a slave to routine. I drink a mug of lemon water every morning without fail, and if I don't practice yoga at least four times a week and partake in some form of writing every day I literally lose my mind. I can't write, relax or socialize unless the room I'm sitting in is clutter free and smells nice. I can't stand it when people are late, nor can I stand it when people don't respond to messages or phone calls in a timely fashion. I check my email about twenty million times a day.
Also as you may remember in my initial blog post, one of the few persistent irritations in my pregnancy so far has been a constant and sometimes debilitating pain in my ass that radiates through my hip and down my left thigh and iliotibial band. I visited my massage therapist twice in 5 days, and both times she commented that my glute and hip muscles were gripping to my pelvis and femur for dear life. Her words exactly:
It's like they don't want to let go.
Hmm. Interesting.
A few weeks ago one of my favourite Vancouver yoginis Shivani Wells gave a very poignant and timely yoga class on the lesson of svāhā, or "surrender". Literally translated from the Rigveda (an ancient Indian collection of Vedic Sanskrit hymns) svaha means "oblation", an offering, or tossing of doubt into the flames to truly let go of whatever ails us.
Shivani let go of a lot recently. She suffered a brain injury while teaching a meditation class. She spoke very candidly about the decisions she's made, giving up teaching for long periods of time and dropping out of school to give her body a chance to heal. These are brave and difficult choices and I was overwhelmed with gratitude that she chose to share her struggles with us so openly.
As I breathed my way through Shivani's class that day, I couldn't help but notice the the pain in my behind. I'd been taking it easy, modifying my regular yoga practice more than I knew was necessary. And yet there my butt was, literally screaming for attention every day. In the safe space of my worn out old yoga mat, inspired by Shivani's bravery, I finally started listening. My ass had something to say.
I need to let go. I thought I was embracing my pregnancy, but I'm not. Not completely.
For example... what if at some point in my pre or post pregnancy I needed to give up yoga? Would I be willing to surrender, or would I grip even more tightly to the person I wanted to be, fighting to practice asana gracefully through labour and beyond. Would I hate myself if all I did was sit in bed for three months and stuff my face with Betty Crocker Super Moist Yellow sponge cake and canned chocolate icing? I probably would. So what does that say about my philosophy of self-acceptance?
Not so bendy flexy now are you Christina.
And it's not just about yoga. I decided to take a year off school, forget about my M.F.A and focus on being a new Mom. I made the decision knowing I could still work on other projects and turn my attention towards my degree next year. But what if I couldn't? I've picked up a project already, collaborating on a new film festival screenplay, which if successful would have us attending workshops a few weeks before the baby is due. We'd start filming in January. I figured I could do this no problemo, but what if it doesn't work out? I have no idea what my labour and post pregnancy will bring. I could be an exhausted mess, struggling to get through the day with my eyes open never mind creating a worthwhile cinematic collaboration.
And so in the silence of savasana I realized my biggest fear of all. What if in the end I accomplish nothing more significant in life than being a mother. In all honesty how would I feel about myself then?
In all honesty I'd feel really shitty. I don't want to only be a mother. I want to be a writer, yoga teacher, and PHD student. I want to make movies and fly to LA to pitch my first TV pilot. I want to publish my first novel. All these dreams may not, at least initially, fit with my experience of motherhood. It's not that I'm not excited to be a Mom. I'm just maybe not as OK with myself as I thought I was. My self-worth definitely still hinges on my own perception of success over experience.
So this lesson of surrender is an important one, at least for me as a new Mom. Surrender does not mean giving up, it means letting go of whatever expectations you may have of an experience so you can truly appreciate the experience itself. Maybe my yogic and creative journeys won't take the path I thought they would take, but that's life. If my path changes, it will be because there's something better out there for me. I'm not giving up my dreams, I'm just surrendering to a future I never imagined was possible.
And you know what's kind of cool? Even though I'm still anxious about what the next year will bring (whether it be as a writer or a yogi or a Mom) since I've been embracing this idea of surrender, the pain in my ass is gone. It's been replaced by a warm fluidity, a calm and quiet acceptance that I am much more than my accomplishments. Even if I struggle as a parent, don't write anything but a few shitty Haikus for a year, forgo my healthy plant-based ways and eat nothing but processed box cakes, I'm still a good person. I'll still be OK.
Svāhā xo
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