I eased into today’s yoga practice looking for more space for my body tightened by training and this weekend’s unshakable energy. When we allow ourselves the possibility of finding undiscovered nooks within us we also give permisssion to embrace our entirety. It’s a messy thing especially if you find out that underneath the calmness that you’ve cultivated and nurtured, there will always be that person driven by impulse, always impatient and perpetually shifting. 

Discovering these spaces leaves us with a sense of wonder too. We smile playfully thinking about the other ways that we may surprise ourselves. I love that feeling of unlocking as you sort out this crazy hodgepodge of selves that make up your wholeness. I think this is the reason why I crave solitude. It is to make sense of the ebb and flow that come with growth and self discovery. 

Also at yoga today, the teacher spoke of deepening the stretch to find more space. I think it is important that a little discomfort is introduced and that it is not just about trying out new things to feel a rush of adrenaline. Sometimes doing something over and over again but pushing beyond what is easy make the blood rush as well. Or sometimes it is also by pushing the boundaries of relationships and interactions. You discover more of yourself as you strive to be present to the other. But the key is to stretch beyond what is, a little at a time.

I’m on week 2 of training and I still have not been able to ease and relax into the run. I’ve also been feeling a little heavy on the right side of my body. So it is so apt that I listen to a podcast where a 60 year old dancer talks about how she has been unable to dance from the heart and just flow into her movements because she has been dancing from her shoulders.  She speaks of her dance as a painful art. She is a struggling artist whose life was mostly marked by hardships. She uses the word hard eight times within the first ten minutes of the interview. She carries with her the burden of her art, with all the notion that comes with it- what a dancer’s body should look like, how graceful she should be, how she should make it seem so effortless. 

So yes, I too have been running from my shoulder. Perhaps burdened that I should already find it easy, know the form, perfect the breathing, clock in the fast times. I constantly remind myself to take it easy but I guess my intensity is channeled towards my running as this is my outlet.  Consequently it is marked by the deeply ingrained worldview that for it to be worthwhile, it has to be hard. That is why when she spoke about how she is trying to choose the opposite of hard instead, I was curious about what it meant. The opposite of hard is not easy. Otherwise our life’s work it will lose its meaning and value. Instead she chooses to dance from a space of lightness, with a soft and gentle heart. 

The gentleness is more for the self who keeps on trying. It is giving ourselves a break from our expectations and that of everyone else’s. It is failing and having fun as you fall. It is knowing that you are crazy and broken and being okay with that. It is asking “why do I do this to myself even if it ain’t easy” and answering “why not”. And believing that it is not about doing it to ourselves but about doing it FOR ourselves. It is accepting that although it takes sacrifice, it is worth it as you choose to lean into the difficulty, stumbling into a flow. It is about opening your heart to your own heart that beats as it shows up everyday. 

I had the pleasure of observing two very intense individuals yesterday. This is after I listen to a podcast on giving permission to one’s self to do less. Stark difference obviously. But I can’t help but be curious where this intensity springs from and if I had it in me too. Some call it being in a state of flow, when you are hyper focused and driven to maximum performance. A different kind of energy fills the room, a relentless and heightened one. The challenge seems to be the fuel, the thrill of the chase in the race to the top. These guys don’t seem to have a middle ground. It’s either 110% or nothing. 

I think each one of us is capable of this intensity, it just manifests in different ways. Some embrace it fully at the expense of being called eccentric, too much to handle or even an asshole. Others redirect it in hobbies or sports. But some choose to bury it and consider this a dark part of themselves that they’d rather keep quiet. This intensity might actually be creativity waiting to come to life, hoping that each one of us accepts our role as makers and shapers of what we choose to do. 

I’ve always been drawn to those who create and who build. I actually like the outliers who stay at the fringes. I’m relatively stable by nature and so I just love living vicariously through them. I like being surrounded by these types as a reminder to keep my own creativity burning and to not be afraid to live on the edge too. Standing beyond one’s comfort zone is the only way to live fully, with intention and intensity. 

We are told at such a young age that to get ahead in life, we gotta work hard and keep on trying. I grew up in a household that put a premium on hardship, that things should be painful and hard for it to matter. We need to sacrifice to achieve something. This has instilled in me a certain way of moving through life that is marked by a no pain no gain attitude. I see this in the various dimensions of my life – work, training and personal. But just going through each of these aspects in this manner is tiring. It is exhausting to just keep trying, stressing ourselves with every hustle. 

It’s a good thing that I have my closest ones remind me that there is a different way where rest and enjoyment of life is as necessary as pounding the pavement everyday. Liz Gilbert in her podcast says it succinctly- giving ourselves the permission to do less. It is about deliberately slowing down to think through how we do things and why we do what we do. It is pausing to breathe a bit as we assess whether we are joyfully and delightfully living. It is stopping a bit in the midst of just ticking off our checklist of to do’s and maybe asking what we shouldn’t do instead. 

In our life’s work, it also means just allowing our energy and creativity to flow, without judgement. It is about doing things lovingly and wholeheartedly where it does not matter if you will make money from it or if you will even be recognized for it. It is giving our full presence in the work that we do, even if we are not sure if this is ultimately for us. What is apparent is that it is for us at this very moment. After all, every experience and everything we take on in our lives never go to waste anyway. 

To create more content, I’m learning to gather sparks of inspiration from diverse sources. I’d like to treat each interaction with people or media as a possible jump off point for reflections and writing. So today’s topic is inspired by Netflix’s Daredevil. The last three episodes I consumed had the underlying theme of an individual’s moral compass and that you can’t see a person holistically by just watching his actions. Context and background are needed to deeply understand someone.

It is in digging deeper, beyond the obvious and easy explanations do we see one’s other side. Many of us have this other side, the side that very few people know about. You catch glimpses of this in the quick reactions of defensiveness, sometimes when you are caught off guard. It’s our darker side that we’d rather keep tucked in. But it is the side that drives some of our most important actions. Whether we like it or not, it also shapes our world view.

So do we just keep this buried and just deal with it by being passive aggressive or resentful? I don’t think it will ever go away because it is imprinted in our history. It is part of who we are, the full self that we have to learn to accept. It is what makes us broken but also what keeps us striving. I’d rather be more mindful about it, a bit more aware of my tendencies and just work it out from there. With practice, maybe I’ll bring this other side to the surface a bit more to celebrate and embrace it further. 

Yesterday while running, I was listening to an animated podcast conversation between Liz Gilbert and Brene Brown, two of my most favorite writers. One of the things that struck me was the topic on how we talk to ourselves when we are in the midst of a painful or shameful experience. The first retort is one that berates. It’s a blaming voice that says things like “how can you be so stupid, so naive”, “if only you were smart enough”, “you are such a screw up”, “I knew it, you wouldn’t be able to do it”… and many other permutations of this dialogue. We may be the most compassionate of people and we speak to others soothingly and reassuringly. But when it comes to talking to ourselves we are at our harshest. We are so hard on ourselves, as if we do not deserve to be understood. There is a sense of unworthiness that drives this self talk.

 But we can choose to be gentle with ourselves instead, to speak to our hearts like how we would talk to someone we truly love. If we can choose our words and communicate lovingly with our dearly beloved why not when we address ourselves? Especially during moments when we feel that we are not enough, when shame just chokes the best out of us, we should always reserve a calm and compassionate voice for self reassurance. It is a genuine way of taking care of our fragile hearts, to nurture our spirits, nursing our weary souls until we feel ready to take on the world again. It is unfair to just save it for others. Self care is the ultimate gift we give ourselves so we can give more of us to the world and to the ones we hold dear. 

It might seem selfish to have a deliberate time for one’s self, with all the demands of our day to day. Guilt is such a strong feeling, especially among women who feel that their time and energy is best used for others. Going through our responsibilities and relationships carrying a heavy burden of guilt is not good for everyone. We end up being resentful when people don’t seem to appreciate our sacrifice. The dialogue revolves around how much we have given up just to be there for others. It is often a blame game, finding fault in others because we feel that we are doing the best that we can. It is unfair to the ones closest to us and ultimately unfair to ourselves. 

So let us find time for ourselves, be gentle when we are out of sorts and lovingly speak to our own hearts as we coax and prod it to show up everyday in what we choose to do. 

I’ve started reading Zen Habits by Leo Babauta again and it continues to resonate with me. Today I read about what he has learned in the ten years of running his blog. One of the things that struck me is his focus on intention over goals. According to him doing so has given him a deep happiness. Instead of being fixated on set objectives he sets his mind on why he chose to do something. It has allowed him to not be overly invested in an outcome that he may not have full control of. Clarifying intentions paves the way for more wholehearted living.

My husband and I had a conversation last night about being in a state of deep happiness. We agreed that we entered the year with a sense that we are where we should be despite a lot of things being uncertain. And this gives me so much comfort as I try to embrace a whole lot of things I don’t know. Maybe it’s because we have been consciously trying to distill what it is that we hold dearly, what is most important to us. But we definitely have a long way in terms of mindfulness but it’s good that choices are now filtered against intention. 

Going back to intent helps when things get muddled with details. This could be the reason why in a company or in a relationship it makes sense to have someone always looking at the bigger picture, painting the vision and driving inspiration. Otherwise it’ll just be work or a chore that we just tick off a list. It is not imbued with a full investment of the self. Intent guides action by providing meaning to what we do. Asking why we do what we do is really a day to day practice.

Solvitur ambulando /ˈsɒlvɪtər ˌæmbjʊˈlændoʊ/ is a Latin term which means: It is solved by walking. 

Whenever I feel lost or unhinged I walk. Or run. Movement helps me settle down and gives me time to think through what I am struggling with. I find that it helps me feel less overwhelmed and more attuned to what I should do next. More often than not, the resolution I am given is to “just keep moving, just keep doing”. Dory comes to mind when I remember this mantra. 

I realized that at work, in training and in life in general what works for me is putting one foot in front of another, focusing on a task at a time, giving each aspect the time that they deserve. The seemingly repetitive nature allows me to observe marked progress. That is also why I am drawn to ashtanga yoga because of this rigorous and sequential practice. I like having a good sense of improvement to allow for further movement. This feedback loop also fuels motivation to keep moving. 

Movement has also shaped the ten years of my marriage, which I celebrate today. My husband is a steady, steadfast man who is the fitting complement to my crazy messy self. Our partnership may be described as stable and hinged on equality and equilibrium but only the two of us know that there are micromovements that have shifted this relationship in so many ways. Admittedly, most of these were brought about by a wife who is in constant search for that which she will pour her heart into.  Anchoring on each other allowed us to just flow with the changing seasons of our marriage. We both agree that what we share is both work and play. Work because we put in the time and show up everyday and play because we still are excited to explore our individual and joint boundaries. There is also movement because there remains a space in between us where a lot of back and forth happen as we each continue to be our own persons, striving to find grace and meaning in the work that we choose to do. 

I sit in the car irritated with the wrong choices that my uber driver took despite being given clear directions. I am channeling all the stoicism that I have read in the past weeks and trying not to snap at him. I am upset because I feel that he is taking away a precious resource that I have very limited amount of- time. We only have a finite amount of time per day but we live as if we have unlimited amounts of this. So people who waste time when they could’ve done otherwise just irks me so much. 

But I also reflect on the many times I have also wasted my own time, mindlessly doing things. These are the times when I know I should be focused on something but chose to do other things. These are the times when I don’t give the task the time that it deserves. And this includes idle time and consciously wasting time to recover and reset. Mindful use of time continues to be a struggle.

Even the wealthiest consider time as their most precious resource and would pay to have more of this in their busy days. Last night, during a conversation with a very successful entrepreneur he touched on time being a start-up founder’s biggest investment. A good chunk of his productive life, most of it during one’s peak, will be poured into bringing forth an idea and executing this relentlessly. So it is important that it is worth spending time on, that it brings meaning and wholeness to his life. Such is the journey I am on and everyday I beg for the grace of focus knowing that I only have a finite amount of time. 

Today marks the first day of my Boston to Big Sur training. I thought I could just pick up from where I left off six months ago but day 1 proved to be a struggle. I just could not relax into the run, maybe because I had expectations that it would not be difficult. Or maybe I was also pressuring myself to do well since I maintained a good level of fitness during the off season. But after the run, I chose to just give myself a bit of slack. It is the first day anyway and just like with everything, getting started is always the hardest part. 

I did what I was told though, stuck to what the coach said I should do today. I really am such a soldier when it comes to these things. I go with what the program tells me. I trust that it was designed to take me to the performance level that I would like to have on race day. I think it is important to have this initial trust to be able to fully submit to something. Looking at the program though I felt daunted by it even if I was told that it was easier than the previous one I had. So I’ll just take it a day at a time, one foot in front of the other. 

My running and the work that I do both teach me that things are not easy nor simple but that it’s not impossible for you to learn the ways to navigate it. Starting is hard because we are faced with what we don’t know. The stories in our head are much louder too during this time, seemingly taunting us if we really have the capacity to achieve what we said we would. The voices will always be there, the doubts perpetually present but if we just keep showing up, before we know it we have done what seemed beyond us just by choosing to plod on every single day.