Riding the wave of change the last few weeks I have felt on the verge of crying and cheering all at the same time. Yes, I’m still riding that wave. Buying a yoga studio was getting in the way of me practicing yoga. Typical dichotomy of life, right? When you’ve got money, you don’t have time. When you’ve got time, you don’t have energy. Like many of my yogi friends, I had to prioritize the infinite tasks of living life and finding time, energy, and the mental strength to make it to the mat just wasn’t happening. And I knew it. And I thought, “This is just for now, sometimes we need to sacrifice more”. Finally, one night this week I went to bed at granny/kid time (8pm) and woke up for an early yoga class before a long work day. By the end of the class, I wondered, what was it that was really keeping me from this? I really couldn’t find the time? What are my real priorities? My to-do list melted away (albeit temporarily) and I felt so much more ready to tackle the many challenges that lie ahead. It was the right amount of physical challenge to get my energy flowing. It cleared my mind of the incessant “I’ve got too much shit to do” chatter. It put a smile on my face. My to-do list seemed cute rather than heavy.

I learned this week to be careful before I give up that which keeps me the most sane, energized, and happy in my life. I am so thankful to have found something that can give me those feelings/gifts. Many people never feel that way. I love that yoga welcomes me back time and time again with open arms, and always feels good no matter how long I’ve been away. I felt sore, but not so sore I hated my instructor. I felt challenged, but not so much so that I was exhausted for three days after. So, get out there, hit the mat, ride your wave, ride your bike, read a book, find your zen, and all else will follow, I promise. Just do it!

Life is suffering, the Buddha says, and even if you’re not given to abstractions it’s easy to see that life can be hard. The added strain of a major loss can make your world unremittingly bleak.

When you’re grieving, the simple fact of whatever loss you must endure is hard enough to face. Yet many of us do things that increase our suffering. We flee the moment, either by attempting to deny a reality that seems insufferably cruel or by imagining a worst-case scenario that might well never occur. We react to actual loss with fear of further loss. We convince ourselves we cannot survive the present crisis (emotionally or even physically), or that the loss is so unfathomable that we don’t want to. We cling desperately to the one thing we can never have in the present moment: what is not.

“We don’t get to live and not lose,” says Ken Druck, a grief counselor in San Diego. “If we care about anything, we’re going to experience loss.”

We just have to let grief have its way with us,” he says softly. “There was nothing to do but let it happen. I relaxed enough to breathe, and realized I’d contracted around my wound.”

People who’ve lost loved ones are often shocked to learn how brutally physical grief can be: They lose their appetite; they can’t sleep; their muscles tighten with tension.

Alternate-nostril breathwork with pranayama can promote mental clarity and calm, centered breathing. Massage can unlock unresolved pain. “What we don’t express, we may repress,” she says. “The mind can lie, but the body can’t.”

Sausys’s goal is to alter the perception and experience of grief. “In yoga,” he says, “transformation is the key. And in grief, it’s what needs to be done. We can’t change the loss, but we can transform ourselves.” Indeed, if amid the onslaught of grief you can undo the physical misery that may accompany it, the effect can be profoundly life-affirming and, yes, transformational.

Another essential (and elusive) tool for dealing with grief is understanding the all-important concept of attachment. Vairagya, or nonattachment, is a key concept in yoga. The relationship of attachment to grief is obvious, says Sausys: “We don’t grieve what we’re not attached to.” But, he adds, the attachment that compounds grief—the clinging to what is not, what cannot be—”goes against one of yoga’s primary truths: Everything changes and everything will eventually end.”

Desiree Rumbaugh learned this lesson the hard way. An Anusara Yoga teacher and the co-owner of Arizona Yoga in Scottsdale, she lost her son Brandon, 20, when he and his 19-year-old girlfriend were shot to death in their sleep while camping outside Phoenix. The horror of her son’s death precipitated a “deep, dark grief” during which Rumbaugh barely left her house. “I could eat, but I lost weight. I could sleep, but when morning came and I had to face another day, it took a lot of coaxing just to get me out of bed.” During this time, she says, “I kept practicing yoga, because I thought that by keeping my body in shape maybe that would support my mind.”

Ram Dass suggesting that the girl had “finished her work on earth.”

Sometimes our life’s work is complete at 20 and sometimes our work is to live much longer.

“I understand that I cannot change the situation,” she says. “I may always wish things were different, but that doesn’t change the way they are.”

Our culture makes it difficult to accept such hard facts. “We live as though we can deny death,” Prashant says, “and only unfortunate people have to deal with it.” Doctors and sick people alike view death as a failure rather than an inevitable conclusion to every life. Our litigious society wants to view death as a bad outcome to be avoided at all costs even though it happens every day, just like birth. The consensus, Marchionna notes, is that “death is something terrible, dark, and ugly.”

It is certainly true that some deaths constitute grave wrongs or brutal crimes, and those can be especially hard to accept. But everyone who suffers a loss is forced at some point to confront a basic truth: Every life has an arc—however prolonged or truncated—and every soul has a path. Recognizing that truth can be liberating.

We may still miss people, but that’s all about us and our feelings. I can believe that people who’ve left this world are all right.

But the point is letting the pain be there—not getting over the pain but embracing it. It belongs to you, and it’s right to feel it. It’s hard to stay with pain, but doing so is an essential part of being human.”

1. When you wake up in the morning (or anytime throughout your days or nights) and the nagging sense of loss and directionless despair appear, get ye to the yoga studio. Welcome a sense of direction.
2. When dressing for yoga, be sure to wear your diamond earrings (for me it’s pigtails). Now you feel desirable again. (Bonus: you’ve found a healthy distraction.) But do not wear makeup (or cologne). That would be ridiculous.
3. When asked to state your intention at the beginning of yoga class, do NOT state this: “I wish to gain the ability through yoga to crush my ex (work/boss/mother…) with the psychic powers of my mind alone.” Instead chose this intention: “I wish to love and respect myself.”
4. When doing the chair pose (or the splits, oh they hurt so good), bend as deep as your legs will hold you. Let the lactic acid build up in your thighs until you want to scream. Realize there is a pain worse than a broken heart.
5. Breath. Don’t forget to breathe. Don’t worry about breathing through your nose or mouth specifically. Those restrictions are for the whole-hearted. Just respirate. If you can continue long enough, you won’t die. If you’re alive, then you are forced to accept that your heart isn’t actually broken. It’s functioning as normal and the other stuff is just a figure of speech.
6. When given the choice between vinyasa and child’s pose, take child’s pose. You deserve a rest. Rest. But do not stay there for long. You are better than that.
7. When in warrior’s pose, realize that you are a warrior. Applaud your inner strength. You are awesome. Repeat your intention. The loving yourself one, not the other one.
8. (When doing a backbend, try to breathe and feel your heart open. Feel love for all the other relationships and situations in your life that you are blessed with that nurture you.)
9. When the exercises are over, listen to the wise words of the yoga instructor. Realize that everything she says about letting go and about having nothing to do or UNdo and about not having anything missing in your life, all that is true. With or without a romantic interest, (job, friend, lover).
10. When in shibasana (corpse pose), imagine your consciousness as a tranquil sea (perhaps resembling the set of Cirque de Soleil’s O). When the sadness and regrets and anxieties rise up and distract you from the sea, imagine those thoughts as little flash-paper boats. Set them sail, and just before they dip over the horizon, set them on fire and watch them flash and disappear. Enjoy the tranquil sea. Repeat.
11. At the closing, when you say “Namaste,” remember what that means: That the divine in me salutes the divine in you. Remember that you possess the divine, too.
12. Go forth in peace. And do not check your cell phone until you’ve gone forth at least 30 yards from the yoga studio.

Yet, amidst what could have built into a stressed out roxtar, there were some great moments too. I got to say a final goodbye to my grandmother before she passed away. I got to be with my family during a difficult loss. I spent 2 days breathing in the fresh, clean mountain air in Colorado. I enjoyed dinner with friends, working with inspirational yogis, and practicing yoga on my travel mat. I saw an Elk. There’s always the other side of the coin, eh?

I have decided that my next “career” step should be to complete my 200 hour yoga certification with Shiva Rea. I have already studied 100 hours with her, and she is the kind of teacher that rocks my world, that takes me outside of my box every time I practice with her, that inspires me to be more than just a yoga teacher, but a living embodiment of something sweeter. I have to read 6 books, practice with her for 180 hours, and record 30 minutes of a class. I look forward to becoming a better teacher.

Wait, I have so much to say! I have also found renewed love for Kitcheree recently. Now that fall has landed, SLO is seeing it’s first rain in 9 months, my body is loving this warming, balanced dish. I shall remind you of it’s simplicity. If you work in the MINDBODY office and have wondered what that glorious aroma coming from the kitchen is every Monday, look no further.

Roxtar Lunchtime Khichdi (Kitcheree) Recipe
Yummy, heatlhy, ancient Indian comfort food. Who wants Lipton rice packets, Ramen noodles, or other instant food when you can make this? I make little dry packets of this and leave it in my office for those days when I don’t bring lunch. If you can’t cook at work, it’s a great dinner that turns into lunch leftovers kind of meal.

Prep Time: 0 min
Cook Time: 25 min
Ready In: 25 min
Yields: 1-2 servings

INGREDIENTS:
1/4 cup white basmati rice
1/4 cup lentils (split mung beans are good too)
1/2 veggie bouillon cube, preferably the sea salt variety
1 tsp to 2 tbsp dry ginger root (latter amount if high pitta)
1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp dried oregano leaves, italian seasoning, braggs dry seasoning
1/4 tsp ground cumin
pinch fennel seeds
dash powdered garlic (omit if high pitta)
+/- 2 cups H2O (at cooking time)
(optional) random veggies scrounged up from wherever you can find them

DIRECTIONS:
1. Put all dry ingredients in a cute little baggie. Tie the top in a knot. Hide it in your desk or cupboard for future consumption.
2. When ready to chow down, add 2 cups water, bring to boil, reduce heat to medium-low and simmer uncovered. As rice and beans are cooking, chop and add veggies such as carrots, zucchini, broccoli, if you have these goodies around. I use this as my opportunity to eat the leftovers from my weekly veggie farm share.
2. Cook for approximately 20 minutes, until most of the liquid is absorbed but the consistency is smooth, not mushy and sticky.
3. When done, take the pot of of heat and add ghee (clarified butter), or whatever butter like product you eat, salt, braggs liquid amino acids to taste. I like garlic pepper, or lemon pepper too.

FOOTNOTES:
Adding 1 cup of frozen peas right at the end of cooking is really good. I like to top it with a bit of feta and eat it with pita and hummus. I have also seen it made with fresh cilantro. Yum.

For everything there is a season,
And a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to throw away;
A time to tear, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate,
A time for war, and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8