Power and Grace: Part 1

Here are my most recent contemplations: power and grace: how they exist and work together within me, within yoga, within science, within the universe...

Regardless of whether or not you can relate to those contemplations, let me firstly say that it is with shy, yet determined embarrassment that I share with you my 'serious' thoughts. Admittedly, I do often take myself a little too seriously; something I am trying to counter with laughter (at myself), lots. Of course it is my hopes and intentions that these hysterical fits of laughter will most frequently overwhelm me while I am engaged in civilized conversation with actual other people, instead of scaring unsuspecting passer-byers who happen to cross me while I break up into hyena-inspired breathing techniques...those occurrences are much more embarrassing than the content of this blog, I can assure you;-)
So, with that confession out of the way, I will continue on with my serious thoughts :-)

Power and grace.

The other night I had a dream, and shared it with a friend who kindly lent me her ear (bless). Thankfully she had a similar watery dream, so I was able to return the kindly ear-lending gesture (double bless, punch buggy no returns). My dream pertained to water and my fear of that which looms below the reflective surface, bubbling anxiety up within as I, holding my dream-state breath, wait for the gut-wrenching crunch on either my right or left foot. Of course, if it is truly possible to be over-analytical while dreaming, during this nerve wracking state, frozen shark bait, I struggle hopelessly against my own wits, trying desperately to stop myself from thinking about a shark for fear of the possibility that the fear itself will conjure up the blood thirsty beast. Being over analytical is obviously a subconsciously ingrained talent!

In real life, my children are the ones who brave it over the tide's break, way out into the watery depths that I am too chicken to plunge into. I sit back on the beach convinced that it is risk management for me to not brave the break (what does that even begin to say about my comfort in having my children out there). No, I am a good mother, as I logically know that the risk to my children in the surf is less than that of them staying home and leading a sedentary, video-game-filled lives. And besides, as they have not seen “Jaws”, it is unlikely they will manifest the greatest of great whites himself...

Anyhow, with the reward of bliss for their efforts, they know the real joy of becoming one with a surging, rolling wave. Riding their boards (whether it be on their bellies, knees, or on their feet), with their smiles stretched further then their jaw lines can contain, it is easy to spot their satisfaction, peace and pride, pulsing with the ocean’s tide. Of course, one son is a little keener than the other, he’ll venture out the furthest, and catch the bigger waves. The other reckons he aligns more with a velociraptor and would rather develop his innate talent chasing other children, dogs, sand crabs, seagulls, even his own shadow over and around the sandy beach.

So what does this all have to do with power and grace? Well, it just so happens that the formidable friend I was ear chewing and jaw racing with the other day is a stellar surfing mama. She knows, the way that I don't, the bliss of feeling fluid with the ocean’s swell. My comfortable excuse is that I grew up smack bang in the middle of the North American continent. Although grain stalks behave similar to waves in the wind they clearly are not the ride-able kind. And for certain the wind is a humbling force of nature to revere when you grow up in the prairies, and similar to Dorothy, I’ve encounter a few monstrous swirls, and similar to Dorothy I’ve also ended up in the land of Oz.

In Oz, life presented me with my first experience of a wave that left me shipwrecked: having had two babies 17months apart, in two different, foreign countries, before the age of 21. I felt shocked, washed up and alone. For me, this was a sink or swim scenario, a really big swell that provided me with the opportunity to practice navigation, survival and surrendering skills. I had to learn how to be in my body, to feel and flow with the forces I was presented with physically. I had to rise in my psyche and recognize thoughts and other psychological forces that were pressing into me, calling me to task. I would like to say that I also had the opportunity to rise in my consciousness to navigate the sea of my spiritual self...but that was still a relatively infantile bud in my awareness, survival was the main commodity for which I gambled.

Depression was the most frightening force I had to deal with. A looming shark whom, though I appreciate did not target me for any personal vengeance and carried no evil, was nonetheless a hungry metabolism that once awoken lurked in search for food and fuel. During the climax of my struggle it attacked with its sharpest teeth: self-pity, resentment, jealousy, comparison, self-loathing, despair and feelings of life being unfair. I was certain I had pulled a shorter straw then the rest, which of course did little to help me find my feet and fly out of the water. And, it was a short straw: my foot was impressed in a reasonable pile of shit, but how short of a straw it was or how large of a mound of shit are both irrelevant, useless bits of information that when caught up in only lay the tracks for a deeper spiral into depression and despair.

With beautiful and oh so fortunate hindsight, I can now see that life had simply built up a big enough surge for me to experience humility, compassion, self-love and learn about the practicalities of taking swimming lessons (aka yoga classes, and seeking help from other well-being leaders and therapists). With flailing limbs and desperate gaspings for air, I can hardly say I navigated that wave graceful, it was sloppy, messy, and evidence of novice wave-catching. Still, I can see that there was just enough grace, the very tiniest of bits, to wet my surfing palette; to show me that waves, challenges and pains are all opportunities to experience relatedness with other humans, to grow and learn from, and even to savour love, peace and joy as a result. That experience taught me that being on a parenting pedestal left you isolated from all the other mamas and papas who were struggling with similar conditions, that knowing what it felt like to be sad and depressed widen the array of other humans I could relate and connect two and empathize with, that speaking about and sharing your vulnerability and pains made them half as heavy on your consciousness and soul, that where ever you end up in life there is just enough love to buoy you up and inspire you onwards on your journey. My depression and struggle was one of the greatest gifts life has ever presented, and so in turn I am grateful for the pain and sadness.

But, but, how do we know whether a wave will be a joy-ride or a tsunami. Is there a point at which our power or will or intent will be met by a force that is not surf-able, surface-able? Perhaps an event that will leave us looking up from under water’s surface instead of reflecting on and above it.

Next week, I'll continue with my blog about Power and Grace, thanks for reading.