Playin’ The Edge

You simply haven’t done Pigeon Pose until you’ve done it with a 35 pound preschooler on your back.  It makes for a great stretch.  He is available to rent as a yoga prop, by the way, but his attention span is short and he requires constant feeding.  So if that’s not an option, breath some life into your Pigeon Pose with these variations.

Let’s say you’ve got your right leg forward for each of these descriptions.   

- With hands supporting you on the mat, twist your right shoulder to the right.  If you want to go deeper, bring your right hand behind you and reach to the back of your left thigh.

- With your left hand firmly on the mat, lift your right arm straight above your head.  Feel how it changes the stretch.

- Walk your hands forward bringing your face to the mat.  Walk your hands to the left and hold.  Pause for a few breaths, then walk them to the right and hold it there.

- Roll onto your left shoulder and bring your hands to a prayer position and hold.

If Pigeon is intense for you anyways, make sure you’re well warmed up for these variations, because you’ll feel the stretch in a whole new juicy way.

Can the urge for certain foods be in your genes? I asked myself this when I had an urge and went looking for cabbage recipes.  Not new age coleslaw recipes, but cooked cabbage.  The old school stuff. 

Where did this craving come from?  My mother *never* cooked cabbage and avoided lots of the unsexy veggies like turnip and rutabaga.  But see, if I look at my great grand parents, nearly half of them come from Germanic or Eastern European countries.  Those folks ate cabbage, baby.  But none of those folks are on my Mom’s side and since Mom was the primary cook in our family, none of those dishes really filtered down.  

But I think the urge has been boiling in my veins and it’s taken this long for it to come into my consciousness.  This is the food of my people.  It’s in my genes to cook up the ol’ cabbage when the temperature drops. 

The key is to make a carmelized version because anything is good with enough sugar and salt right?  And combined with good sausages or ham, you get a bevy of fabulous flavour.  The combination on a lousy winter day is great.  You’ll look at this and say, Wow it’s kinda high in fat isn’t it?  And I say, sure you won’t eat this in August - it’s sustaining winter food. 

Also, think of all the cabbage you’re eating, it has nearly zero calories and will save you from cancer, so get eating. I’ve borrowed heavily from this recipe, but halved it and tweaked it so it’s quicker to make on a weeknight. Here’s my version:

Carmelized Cabbage with Sausages

Melt 1 TB butter in a pan while you chop a medium onion.  Add the onion to the pan and sprinkle with 1 TB sugar and 1 tsp salt.  Add 2-4 sausages depending on how many people you’re feeding.  It’s best to slice them lengthwise facedown so they cook faster. Cook on low to medium heat for 15 minutes stirring the onions frequently. 

While it cooks, slice up half a head of cabbage into 1 or 1 1/2 inch chunks.  Cut up a couple potatoes into big chunks and throw them in the microwave for 2 or 3 minutes to get them started.

Once the onions are carmelized and the sausages are well under way, pour in 1/2 a bottle of beer, add the cabbage and potatoes.  Put a lid on the pan and cook at medium while you drink the rest of the beer and wait for the cabbage to get to the tenderness you like.  Stir the whole mess every once in a while to keep things cooking evenly.  It usually takes 15 or 20 minutes.

And then dig in to the food of the people.

I’m reading Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant, it’s about cooking and eating for one and it just reminds me of all the things I want to eat. I have scribbled notes on my bookmark in green gel pen.  Make Lyn’s Chicken Cacciatore.  Find a Trader Joe’s recipe for Butternut Squash Soup.  It’s the second time I’ve read how good that soup is, but alas no TJ’s in Halifax.  And find a mix for something I can’t read in my awful handwriting. 

 I also have the corners of pages folded over to bring me back to the recipe for Cathy’s Salsa. It’s made with canned tomatoes which sounds perfect for January when my last fresh tomatoes resembled red cardboard from Santa.  Also the recipe for Grill-Curried Shrimp Quesarito with Avacado Raita.  It looks easier to make than it sounds, which is what I’m all about. 

I’m liking the book becuase it’s voyeuristic and entertaining to read what people eat when they’re alone.  I can relate to Ann Patchett who said she sometimes goes from white cheese and salsa on saltines right through to a dessert of butter and jam on saltines even though I can’t remember when I’ve last had a saltine.  I used to love making PB & honey saltine sandwiches when I was a kid.  Crumbly and delicious.  I’ve added saltines to my grocery list to remind myself.

And then there are other writers who talk about eating asparagus every day for 3 months in the spring, anchovies *on* everything and eggplant *in* everything.  Those pages are not folded over.

One of the few meals I regularly eat by myself is my post-yoga class dinner at 8:30 pm.  My favourite is rice crackers with slices of cheese and garlicy dill pickles.  Often with a beer. 

The question I ask myself is - do food books written by foodies make me eat more or just eat better?

This first came up when I read French Woman Don’t Get Fat.  She’s all about the quality and not quantity and enjoy what you eat and then WALK AWAY.  And even though I didn’t get a thing from her recipes (Leek soup?  bluck) I buy the philosophy.  So much so that I finished the book, went to Pete’s Frootique and bought $50 worth of foodie foods.  I don’t remember what I bought besides some weird and expensive cheese. But did I find it all so satisfying that I ate less and ate more mindfully?  Or did I eat more because I had 50 bucks worth of tasty food in the house?   I remember it not being as good as I’d hoped.  But I probably just didn’t get the right things.  I’ll have to try that experiment again.

But “Alone” is really about self-care and fulfillment.  Do you just fill the hole in your belly by standing in the kitchen eating cold refried beans from a can, or do you fulfill yourself with a decent meal at a table?  Do you eat alone in a restaurant to be nurtured and entertained?  Or do you skulk in a corner inhaling your food and then slink out as quickly as you can?

My favourite restaurants for eating alone are sushi places.  I love to sit at the bar and watch the chefs make my dinner.  A table is fun too, heck I’d eat decent sushi sitting on a garbage can in an alley. I usually throw whole piece of sushi in my mouth at a time because who wants to denigrate a nice piece of tuna by gnawing through it only to have the rice block break in half and drop into your bowl splashing you with wasabi-speckled soy sauce?  So because of that, dinner conversation over sushi is a little hit and miss with me. 

I remember once being taken to a schmooze lunch by an ad exec and I got to pick the restaurant so I picked sushi of course.  She was cute and blond and picked away daintily at her beef terriaki.  She managed to always ask me a question just as I popped a big piece of delicious sushi in my mouth.  Then she’d pretend not to look at me with mild horror as I chewed happily away, cheeks bulging with fresh raw salmon while the question hung in the air like steam from my tea cup.

But back to self-care, I loved this bit from ”Alone” from Jamie Attenberg:

But there is nothing that fills me up like taking care of myself, taking care of my desires.  Often the fullness lasts only for a minute, and then like the pain that comes from a pinch of skin, it is gone.  But it’s better than not having eaten at all. 

I wondered by Christine Kane’s blog today and love her latest post about losing and regaining joy in her life.  Here’s a bit:

Then one day, as I passed by a blackberry bush, the wall around my heart cracked open slightly. I absolutely love blackberries. Not for their taste. But for how they look. I stood there and just stared at the blackberries as tears fell down my cheeks. It dawned on me that in my quest to make it as an artist, I had adopted obsession and forgotten delight.

When you adopt obsession, you require hard hits of big things to wake up the you that has become numb. It’s as if food has to be spicier, saltier, and fattier. Music has to be louder and faster. Moments need to be “events” to get you to notice them. It takes more flash to feel good. It takes more bling to be present.

I’ve had those blackberry moments myself.  I get wound up in my stuff and when I do it takes more noise to cut through my head clutter and get my attention.  I think that I’m enjoying myself, but I’ve usually just found more entertaining clutter.  And it’s not long before I’m looking for the next thing.

But it’s always when I take the time to be in nature and my body that I slowly unwind and feel connected again. 

Some days HoneyBunny is such a better parent than I am.  And that’s OK.  Hopefully between the two of us Angus will grow up only slightly damaged by slack parentage. 

The other night our child did not want to go to sleep.  And we’re spoiled because that’s usually not a problem.  Usually our challenge is more around avoiding the destruction of our house by the Tasmanian Devil. 

We both took a turn trying to settle him down.  I tried to work my calming yoga mojo on him.  I stroked his temple.  I talked to him in my Savasana voice.  I felt like I had him.  Then just as I was about to walk away he jumped up on the bed and starting bouncing on it.  Yup, he was the picture of relaxation.  My yoga mojo is some powerful shit.

So we let him go for a few minutes and then he got really upset with unconsolable crying.

So it was HB’s turn and he went and and I couldn’t hear what was going on, but a few minutes later he came back and Angus was quiet.  And stayed that way.  I said - what the heck did you do??  He says it’s something I told him about, but I don’t remember anything about it.  I’m glad somebody did.

He calmly said, ”Angus, you don’t have to be this upset.  You just don’t. You’re cozy in your Big Red Bed.  You’re surrounded by your friends.  Look, you have Puppy (and Puppy barked).  You have Frog (who gave him a kiss). And you have Mitch Monkey (also a kissy guy).  You have your friend Yellow Blankie.  Look how he likes to snuggle with you.  You don’t have to be this upset.  You’re OK.  Mom and Dad love you.  You can go to sleep now.”

And he did.

You can imagine how scary it must be to feel a force of emotions when you’re three.  Heck, it’s scary when you’re an adult.  Which is why we usually ignore our feelings any day than give them a few minutes of stage time in our lives.

If you’re anything like me you start catastrophizing - how will I do whatever upcoming task when I feel so crappy?  I make it even worse by assuming I’ll feel this way forever and making grandious assumptions that this one emotion will cripple me and cause my life to end up in the trash can.

But I *know* that it’s better to give the feelings some stage time and I *know* that once I give them their due they’ll pass.  Or at least I know it logically, now I just need to know it in the heat of the emotional moment too.

So next time I feel some heavy duty feelings I’m going to use HB’s technique.  I don’t have to feel overwhelmed by it.  I’m surrounded by people I love and comforts I cherish.  I just need to relax.  Feel it.  Let it go.  And then sleep.

So I wrote before about Bowen Therapy and my hip.  I’ve tried everything to deal with my Piriformis syndrome.  I’ve now finished 6 sessions of Bowen and in the last couple of weeks have been trying to tweak my hip.  I’ve done all the things I either avoided or was Very Careful About.  I’ve run hills.  And lots of ‘em.  I’ve amped up my speed and distance without the appropriate ramp up period.  I should be crippled - instead - nothin’.  Happy Hips.

I actually had the thought, I wonder if I should train for a Half Marathon this spring?  Now whether I do or not, I don’t care - but this is from me, who hobbled about painfully (and grumpily) when my hip acted up.

You just don’t know how happy I am about it.

And it’s had impact on my yoga too.  I’m more flexible.  I can do a full Lotus position now.  Not like “gee I should sit here for a half hour” but at least a few minutes where my foot is not completely dislodging my inner thigh.

And while I’m on that note - let me say something to yoga teachers who are naturally flexible.  Don’t be an jerk, k?  Flexiblility is mostly god-given.  Be careful about using your yoga classes as a ”see what I can do!” Stuart thing from Mad TV.  Most people do not have the kind of flexibility that made you think “wow I’m good at yoga, I should teach”.  Let’s face it, yoga won’t make them a bunch more flexible unless they’re able to do it 4 hours a day.  Don’t let your ego teach your yoga.  Show the advanced version of the pose and then do the modified version.  People will feel included, instead of, well, bad. 

Whew glad to get that out.

So the other thing Bowen has done for my yoga practice is really increased the prana or energy flow in my hips.  We all have those poses that make us go “AH” right?  You know the ones - you feel the rush of energy and it Just. Feels. So. Good.

So because I’m a hip person, those poses for me are Seated Twist, Pigeon, also Reclining Big Toe pose where you cross your leg over into a twist - AH.  Except since I’ve done Bowen those poses give me 10 times the rush.  Like a total Yogasm.  Like wipe the drool, Corilee, it’s not attractive.   Not every time, but enough that it’s defiinitely helped me get to the mat more often

So Sarah the cute little naturopath who did the treatments on me said that I might need to come back in three months for a tune-up or when I notice my flexibility decreases.  No problem, I’ll be there in a flash if I can keep my hip, and me, this happy.

Before I had kids I said, “wow what a commitment, 20 years of your life”.   But now I have one.  Yesterday I was reading about a mother of a 9 year old and she said, “yeah at this age they don’t really want to hang out with you as much”.  And I know that.  My friend has a nine year old who runs out of the house to her friend’s and isn’t seen for the rest of the day except for a quick check-in call.  My friend spends the time sleeping.

It ocurred to me yesterday that next school year will be my son Angus’ last one at home before Kindergarten or Preschool or whatever it is.  I guess I’ll find out soon enough.  He’ll be halfway to not wanting to hang out with me as much any day now.  That’s crazy talk.

There are parts of motherhood that are so intense, I think I will *never* forget them - surviving them is challenging enough. 

It doesn’t seem like that long ago we were changing his diaper every couple of hours and now he’s slamming the bathroom door in my face because he can pee on his own thank you very much.  So I spend the time sleeping. 

When my Mom visited recently she said, “wow Angus is so busy”.  Seeing a sentimental bonding opportunity I said to her, “well us kids must have been busy too right?”.  Now let’s look at the background here - I had three - count ‘em - three brothers.  They were *all* busy.  I probably had my moments too.

And she said, “you know I don’t really remember”.  What??  How the heck do you forget something like *Busy*?  We’re not talking about an odd occasional thing.  A Busy kid is busy 12 hours a day, 7 days a week.  It’s only when they’re sleeping that they’re still and angelic.  The rest of the time it’s Manage the Business (wear them out) or Try to Cope (alcohol helps).  I was stunned.  And no my Mom doesn’t have Alzheimers (diagnosed).

And the crazy thing is that I do remember.  I have two little brothers 4 and 6 years younger than me.  I remember her bathing them and me and my older brother would shake our heads in amazement while we listened to the friggin’ tsunami happening in the bathroom as they splashed and back stroked and dove like whales. 

And the funny thing was that my mother had already transformed.  While she would have hung us up by our big toes, for them, she was holding her cool.  She either became alot more Zen or the alcohol was helping. And she’s transformed even more now if she can’t remember how crazy they were. 

But that’s why they make such good grandparents.

HoneyBunny and I snuck out in a snowstorm the other night because his Mom was visiting and we *always* take advantage of free babysitting.  And the thing that takes new parents a while to figure out is a) your kid is always going to be better behaved for other people, and b) if it’s a grandparent, they don’t really care anyways. 

They just don’t get too freaked about the things that drive you nuts.  Your kid is not going to sleep?  They think it’s a sign their grandkid loves them and doesn’t want to be without them.  Heck, take advantage I always say.

The fact is, Motherhood messes with your head.  What seemed like a long childhood for my kid, now seems practically over except for homework and the loud music.  Here’s hoping I’ll choose to remember the right things too.

I said good-bye to one of my yoga classes.  I taught a weekly lunch-time class to my co-workers for almost 3 years.  It was a great gig, paid for by the company.  We had lay-offs last week and now most of the yogis are gone.  We had our last class and didn’t even know it.

It was a weird gig too, playing the role of yoga instructor to my co-workers.  Going from working on a project with someone to adjusting them in Triangle.  It taught me alot about boundaries.  I wanted to be open.  So I would share stuff about myself and my yoga experiences which could be scary, but I wouldn’t expect the same from them.  They’re professionals, at work after all.

When I asked if people wanted a little massage during Savasana, it was the only class where they didn’t say say ‘hell yeah!’.  The touching could be tricky, but if I felt like the right thing I did it anyways.

It was odd to teach a class where I knew so much about what people were dealing with.  When the lay-offs were looming the classes got really small, but class time was a needed break.  And sometimes during relaxation I reminded people to trust.  I reminded them to trust that the right thing was going to happen in their lives.  To be grateful.  And to breath.  And the best thing is that it reminded me too.

I hear there’s a yoga studio opening in the new year near my workplace.  Maybe I’ll be able to take in some classes with my extra lunch time.  When they ask about a massage, I’ll be the one saying “hell yeah!”.

The yogis who were my co-workers have gone on to the next thing.  Some are going to travel, some are going to take some time, some are job hunting.  And I’m not saying it’s because of my class.  But they’re all calm and they’re all trusting.  They’re looking very well rested. And I hope I’ll see them in a yoga class soon.

I have been dry as dust on the blog front.  I feel like there’s nothing interesting to say, let alone anything wise or insightful.  And while my yoga practice ain’t bad these days, I’m not seeing anything new there that needs reporting.  It’s amazing how sometimes the blog post just gets pulled out of my madly typing fingers, and other times I’m like ”blog?  what blog?”. 

And then the trick is to not feel stressed about it.  No one wants to read a blog post that talks about how long it’s been since the last blog post.  I don’t even look at the dates.  I try to make it part of my non-judgement practice.

I’m going to blame winter too.  Hybernating doesn’t always play well with baring yourself in your blog.   It feels a little too naked.  A little drafty for wintertime comfort.  But too much comfort is probably part of the problem too.   I need to be willing to get uncomfortable.

I’m also thinking too small about what I can write here.  So I hereby grant myself permission to write about any ol’ thing.  Regardless of what it says in the tagline at the top of this page

Let’s see if that helps.

I’m reading Randy Pausch’s Last Lecture called Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams.  Get it for yourself on video or transcript.  He talks about the value of playing football when he was a kid.  He says the real value is in the head fake indirect learning.  It wasn’t about the dream of playing professionally or really, about playing at all.  It was all the other stuff that had the most value - learning preserverence, teamwork and sportsmanship.

And the head fake bit is what I love about yoga too.  And that’s the challenge for the teacher.  How do you take a room full of newbies who want to ‘get fit’ or ‘touch their toes’ and help them do that as *well as* learn about mindfulness, compassion, yamas and nyamas - in an eight week session?

Well, of course you don’t.  Teaching them the poses injury-free is often a full-time job in itself. 

But the best head fake learning is what we take in from doing the yoga itself.  That a few simple deep breaths can completely alter our physiology and perspective.   That the sweet spot, the eye of the storm, is being in the moment.  That just doing the poses, whether we touch or toes or not, is its own reward.