I really like control.

As in…really like it.

When the world starts to slide, my impulse is to batten down the hatches. I make lists, design spreadsheets, and straight jacket anything that feels shaky. With steely-eyed determination, I impose order on chaos and bring entropy to its knees!

Naturally, this doesn’t always turn out very well.

The biggest shake up of my life occurred when my world came crashing down in 2006. I left a blooming life in New York City to get married and move to Vancouver, Canada. I’d never been to Vancouver before, but my boyfriend was Canadian and wanted to return home for our future together. My leap of faith felt romantic, exciting and inspiring. What joy to leap into the unknown!

However, my leap ended with a plunge into an abyss.  

Just before we arrived in Canada, my husband – an alcoholic who had been dry for more than a decade – experienced a shattering loss when his mother died and started drinking on our honeymoon.

My life suddenly got very wobbly.

Before the move, I had identified myself as a empowered and successful woman. I had a rising career in my community, a happy home, and was proud to be a New Yorker. In the space of a few months, I had moved to a new country, changed jobs, and was witnessing the unravelling of my marriage. As my husband continued to drink, I became frozen in uncertainty. I lacked the tools and resources to support his grief, and became shut down in the spotlight of his anger. He mistook my silence for apathy, and our spiral of miscommunication drove the marriage to its breaking point.

All the identifications to which I had been anchored (New Yorker, “strong” woman, good person, committed partner) fell apart. The external labels that had given me my sense of self dissolved. And at the same time, my weaknesses were crowbarred open and exposed. It was like pulling up the floorboards of my own internal basement; a lot of dark, slimy corners were suddenly exposed to light. Who was this enabling, wimpy, silent, contracted shell of a woman? Where had the devoted partner and strong feminist gone? I was a crab out of my shell: vulnerable, raw, weak, and exposed.

That year was also one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

When my life fell apart, I simply couldn’t pretend that I had it all together any longer. Nothing in the outer world was steady. No amount of list making could bandage up the reality that I was standing in ruins.

When my outer world fell apart, the inner world started to become visible. 

“Chaos should be regarded as very good news.”

– Pema Chodron

When something comes along to rock our lives and challenge our sense of self, we get scared and angry. We often stuff our feelings with Netflix, potato chips, or – as Brene Brown so insightfully notes in her Ted talk – “a few beers and a banana nut muffin.” When my world fell apart, I buried myself in work and started going to raves to avoid feeling the void. Being a workaholic felt productive and validating. Dance parties and drugs were a quick fix where I could feel exciting, loved, and connected.

But eventually, I was caught out. I couldn’t stay high forever. I’m one of the lucky ones that isn’t prone to addiction and – at some point – I had to stop running from my own emptiness. When I finally sat down in my shakiness, I realized that I hadn’t disappeared. Even though I was no longer a wife or a New Yorker, there was something else within me that was still safe and whole. But I could only feel this steadiness – my own Presence – when my control strategies fell apart.

My yoga practice became a doorway through which I began to heal. On the yoga mat, I could unclench my fists from manhandling my life, and practice staying present moment to moment. No matter how shaky I felt, yoga invited me to be in my body – and stay there one breath at a time. On the mat, I didn’t have to be strong, happy, optimistic, perfect, or even courageous. I only had to be. My yoga practice didn’t care if I had my outer life together; it only asked that I be present and feel.

Yoga philosophy has recognized our tendency to misidentify ourselves with the outer world for thousands of years. In the opening of the seminal yoga text, The Yoga Sutra, Patanjali explicitly lays out his definition for yoga. Here’s a rough paraphrase: “Yoga is the quieting of the fluctuations of your mind. When you do this, you can experience your Presence. Otherwise, you think you’re all the stuff in your head!”

Before I moved to Vancouver, my sense of self was intrinsically tied to how I was thinking about myself. Was I smart? Pretty? Hard-working? A failure? Accomplished? My sense of “Rachel” was defined by my achievements and shortcomings. When those identifications fell apart, something else had the opportunity to be seen.

When we quiet our minds, our true self – our Presence – becomes visible. But usually we’re so caught up in protecting these identities that we can’t experience our own depths. When our identifications get shaken, a space cracks open where we can question our stories. You have probably experienced this during a career change, relationship shift, or a conflict. The shakiness gives us the opportunity to rediscover who we are.

“Only the extent the we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible in us be found.”

– Pema Chodron

So here’s the good news: our lives don’t have to be completely annihilated in order to reconnect to Presence. Thank goodness! By engaging in some consciously self-imposed wobbling, we can practice reconnecting to our Presence every day. Yoga is a great place to start.

When we wobble physically on our mats, our instinct is to cover it up. The ego takes over, and we want to hide from seeming imperfect. For example, if we feel wobbly in tree pose, we may grab the wall or rigidly brace ourselves. If we fall, we look around to see if anyone caught us out.

Perfect.

In that moment, we can notice our attachment to getting it right or looking good. Here’s another time when we are defining our worth by something external! When our minds create stories and the ego gets flustered (“I’m a loser,” “My balance sucks!”), we can recognize that we are still intrinsically okay. In my yoga classes, I invite my students to embrace their wobbles and reframe their experience: “If you fall out of the pose,” I say, “the first thing I want you to think is, ‘I’m sexy!’ Falling is sexy. Being shaky is sexy. Because it means that you’re willing to go someplace that is uncertain. And that’s a so much more wonderful than being afraid to move out of your comfort zone!” The mini wobbles that we experience on our mat can help create space to reconnect to a deeper identification with who we really are.

When we meditate in our yoga practice (whether it’s a formal meditation, or a mindfulness practice), we have the perfect opportunity to witness our minds in action. As the thoughts arise, we can begin to notice that they are not reality. When we see how much flotsam and jetsam is coming and going all the time across our consciousness, we can begin to not take what the mind tells us quite so seriously. Instead, we can begin to settle into the space that lies between the fluctuations of our thoughts.

When we can practice questioning the mind on the mat, we have more space to question our stories off the mat. When our egos are threatened, there is greater grace and deeper resources to recognize that we – and those around us – are still intrinsically worthy. When life falls apart (new job, new relationship, broken heart or loss of a loved one), it gets easier to pick up the pieces. Or we may even realize that we can leave the pieces where they lay, because we don’t need them to experience who we truly are.

Embrace your wobbles. Shake your own tree. And in the midst of that shakiness, discover the unshaking ground that lies within you.

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass the world is too full to talk about.”

― Rumi

PS: If you like this blog, you may enjoy checking out some of my books. XO

As the clocks strike midnight at New Year, if not before, attention quickly turns towards setting resolutions. Resolutions are often pitched as an opportunity for new beginnings, a new you, as though the old you just wasn’t quite good enough. Setting resolutions is big business, for example, a diet regime; gym membership or such like are marketed as being worth every cent to change your life forever.

I think it’s great that we use a new year to take stock, re-assess and make changes. We need to do so in a way, however, where we are bought into this change, and not just following the latest craze or fad that society expects of us. Think about any resolutions you have set in the past. Did they stick? You would be in the minority if they did.

Setting resolutions that make dramatic changes are challenging to sustain. The initial enthusiasm soon dwindles, with ‘quitters day’ on 12th January being the day most are likely to give up on their resolutions.

I know all too well the challenges of setting resolutions that stick. I remember setting a resolution to stop eating all foods with added sugar. I would pour over ingredient lists in supermarkets, making my own no added sugar dishes. This was a time consuming exercise, however, and being a time poor Dad of twins, coupled with the lure of leftover festive sugary foods, I soon fell off the wagon.

One resolution that really stuck for me was when I ramped up my yoga practice. I remember it well. It was six months after my boys were born, and I was knackered. I organised weekly Do Yoga With Me classes for work colleagues and had seen DYWM advertise its first 30-day challenges in the run up to new year. I signed up, with this ultimately becoming the catalyst for a life-long yoga journey.

Why did this resolution stick where so many other resolutions have failed?

Here are four tips from my experience that can help you make your resolutions a habit.

1. Do something you enjoy

It’s easy to fall into the trap of setting resolutions that don’t necessarily resonate with you. A new year provides the perfect opportunity for self-reflection. Use the time wisely to think about what you enjoy doing or would love to do. Discuss with family and friends, and write down any ideas. I love practicing yoga, and thoroughly enjoyed Do Yoga With Me classes, so signing up to a challenge felt like the logical next step in deepening my practice. If you struggle for inspiration, Rachel has had a fantastic idea for 2020, where every week, we choose something that we want to do better. Preferably something small, that we may have been meaning to do for a long time, but never got round to it. For example, drink more water, not use single-use plastics or to make contact with a friend.

2. Set realistic expectations

Having figured out what you enjoy, it’s easy to get carried away, and be overly optimistic on what can be achieved. Setting unrealistic expectations increases the likelihood that the resolution will fail. With the Do Yoga With Me 30-day challenge, I had no idea where it would lead beyond the 30 days, certainly not becoming the yoga teacher I am today. Applying the principles of yoga, I set an intention each day to practice yoga, and that was enough to start the ball rolling.

When setting resolutions, consider what’s achievable and over what timescales. Consider what success looks like for you, and the incremental steps to get there.

3. Establish a new routine

Finding time to follow through on a resolution can be challenging. We are creatures of habit, and making any changes to a routine can be disruptive. When I signed up to the Do Yoga With Me challenge, my routine was eat, sleep, work, bottle feed, wind twins, repeat. Squeezing yoga in was going to be a challenge.

What I figured though was that the boys were often restless early morning, with me often laid in bed waiting for them to wake. I found that by getting up earlier, and doing the 30-day challenge, with one ear to the baby monitor worked well. I was able to use my time more productively, and by practicing yoga, I rediscovered my identity and felt a sense of control, equipped for daily life. When setting resolutions, consider the practicalities. Is this something you can do at home, or will you need to travel, and if so, how far? Are there any pockets of time available, and will you need to reprioritize or let go of tasks that don’t serve you?

4. Embrace change in all its glory

Having done the groundwork, you’re now ready to get started. Don’t think that this needs to start on 1st January, and if not, it doesn’t constitute a resolution. In the context of yoga, I set a resolution every day I arrive onto the mat, for example, framed by how I feel in body and mind on a given day. Taking stock of your personal situation means that the resolution best reflects you at that time. The beauty of the Do Yoga With Me 30-day challenge was that I could dip in and out of classes,. This meant that this didn’t become a chore. Once the 30-day challenge was over, I wanted more. As a yogi, we aspire to be flexible in both body and mind, so embrace change, and be excited by where this may take you.

Here’s the idea: every week in 2020, we choose something that we want to do better. Something small. You know, probably one of those things that we’ve been “meaning” to do for a long time, but somehow didn’t manage to quite make a habit out of it. I have a whole bunch of them.

For week one, it’s time to get hydrated.

The first “small daily act” that we’ll take on in 2020 is drinking enough water. Opinions vary, but generally speaking 8×8 (8 glasses x 8 oz) seems like a good way to go. Herbal teas count. Vodka doesn’t.

These small daily acts are the little things that form the fabric of our lives. But even though they’re small, they move our health and wellness dial. For me, these behaviours nudge me from “anxious, depressive, unhealthy” mess into “connected, empowered, resilient” human being.

But here’s the rule: if you fail, you try again the next day. We are practicing resilience as much as we are trying to reap the benefits of “the good thing.”

And naturally, you can set your own small daily acts if mine don’t work for you.

This first week is a little different: it’s only 4 days long so that we can start our new daily act on a Monday. Just seems a little more intuitive that way as we move forward.

Ready? Here we go.

#smalldailyacts #liveyourvalues2020 #52weeksofchange

Do you want to get better at living your values in 2020?

I do. So here’s my idea.

Every week in 2020, we choose something that we want to do better. Something small. You know, probably one of those things that we’ve been “meaning” to do for a long time, but somehow didn’t manage to quite make a habit out of it. I have a bunch of them.

Here are a few of my personal examples:

• drink more water
• get 8 hours of sleep
• journal
• practice gratitude
• do my physiotherapy exercises
• meditate
• don’t use any single use plastics
• connect with a friend

These are the little things, you know, those small daily acts, that form the fabric of our lives. They usually take less than ten minutes.

For me, these behaviours nudge me from “anxious, depressive, unhealthy” mess into “connected, empowered, resilient” human being.

When I was younger, I used to think that making a change (or a new year’s resolution) involved explosive, mind-blowing determination. Change was like an earthquake: tectonic and sudden. As I’ve gotten older, I believe that true change gets nudged forward in tiny, small, humble steps. It is our consistency and our resilience that helps us to truly change ourselves, and therefore, the world.

Each week for 2020, I’m going to set myself a goal. Something small that will nudge my dial. I’ll do that thing – just that thing – every day for a week. I’ll do my best. The next week I’ll move onto another small daily act. Something else that moves my dial. Maybe the behavior from the previous week will stick, maybe not. That’s okay. But I have a feeling that something will be different.

Want to join me?

#smalldailyacts #liveyourvalues2020

So many of us feel disconnected, sad, or stuck in our lives (I certainly have). Over the last twenty years, I’ve participated in a variety of processes – therapy, self-development courses, even cults (yes, cults!) – in my ongoing search to reconnect “home.” My work as both and actor and yoga teacher has been part of this desire to unpack my human nature and find my way towards increased connection and joy.

Path of Love is a process that has really worked for me.

Described as “the most intensive and life-changing meditation and personal development processes in the world today,” this 7-day experience consists of deep somatic housecleaning, personal inquiry, and coached small group work. The combination of these elements, supported by a profound commitment to support, caring and safety, creates a rare environment where deep exposure work and processing can be safely held. In other words, you get to work on some of your very deep shit.

This was my second time at the retreat. I first participated in POL about a year and a half ago when I attended as a participant. At the time, my life looked pretty good. I had a solid career, great family, and was blessed with supportive friends. However, I was struggling in my intimate relationships and sense of purpose. I had recently come through a two year process of trying to have a baby on my own and was grieving the end of that dream. I had some deep, old hurts that had never been fully mourned, and was continually castigating myself with “woulda, shoulda, coulda” been’s. My mind woudn’t shut off. I felt disconnected from my heart, vibrancy, and vulnerability.

Path of Love delivered on its mission. By the end of that week, I felt more open, alive, and true. I had danced with my ghosts: alternatively raging and embracing them – and made peace with some old pains. I felt more embodied and awake in my own skin. I felt like I had seen the true, shining face of humanity – both in myself and others. Most importantly, I put a big crack in my own armor, experienced my own vulnerability, and felt true self-love.

This year, I returned to the process to act as support staff. When you staff, you have the opportunity to support the participants, connect with the community, and engage in a mini Path of Love again of your own.

During this time, I had the privilege of witnessing what happens when we are courageous enough to embrace our vulnerability and crack open our own masks. We usually walk around in the world guarded by our personalities and defensive structures. While they keep us safe, these masks also prevent us from fully connecting with others – and ourselves. Beneath every mask is vibrant, innocent, and shining Presence. When we are safe enough – and courageous enough – to drop our defences, we can reconnect to this fundamental, radiant core.

Here is what I learned, or remembered:

• Humans are innately good. When we drop our various masks of protection, we all seek love and connection.
• Our radiance shines through us when we are no longer afraid of being judged or pushed away.
• We are all the same. The stories may be different, but the fundamental human experience – replete with loss, agony, shame, anguish, anxiety, armour, laughter, love, joy – is universal. We are far more connected than our minds think.
• We can’t do it alone. Together, we heal.
• Your body knows all your secrets. Move your body, and heal your Self.
• Being witnessed in compassionate presence heals very deep wounds.
• We are very resilient. When we don’t hide, we can heal.
• When in doubt, slow down.
• The heart and the head don’t always have to agree.
• You can’t reason with your inner critic; you just gotta say, Fuck Off.
• Prayer – no matter who you are praying to – will nourish your soul.
• Connection lies through your exquisite vulnerability.
• You belong.

If you are interested in shifting something in your life, I highly recommend this process as a resource. You will not be the same.