Kathryn E. Livingston - Yin, Yang, Yogini: a Womans Quest for Balance, Strength and Inner Peace

Yin, Yang, Yogini

A Womans Quest for Balance, Strength, and Peace

Kathryn E. Livingston

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

Copyright 2014 by Kathryn E. Livingston

ISBN: 978-1-4976-6862-1

This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

180 Maiden Lane

New York, NY 10038

www.openroadmedia.com

May the pure light within you, guide your way on.

Irish folk song

Before The Change (And I Dont Mean Menopause)

By the time you turn fifty, you expect that youll have everything in order: the socks will all finally be matched and rolled, the refrigerator will be organized with nothing suspicious hiding on the back top shelf, and your career will be stellar. You imagine that the 300 pins that fell out of your sewing box and down the basement stairs when your kids were three, five, and nine and you were way too busy to locate them (the pins, that is) would have been picked up by now. Youre done freaking out because you have to color your hair, and youve accepted the fact that youre probably never going to wear a bikini again (or, if you do, your breasts are not going to look quite up to snuff in it).

But thats not what happened to me. For me, fifty was just the start of something. Fifty was my turning point, because it was then that I began to realize I didnt want to be memyselfanymore. Or rather, that I didnt want to be the person I seemed to be. I wanted to shed the baggage Id been carrying for half a century, and start all over. But how to do that?

At fifty I was ten pounds overweight. I was perpetually worried about dying (i.e. a dented can of kidney beans purchased at the grocery store meant rigor mortis would soon set in). Airplanes scared the crap out of me. As did cars. I was obsessed about getting my kids into decent colleges. Negative self talk was rampant: I would lecture myself for hours about what a lousy writer, mother, wife, hiker, cook, swimmer, shopper, dresser, make-up putter-on-er or whatever else I could think of I was.

My mothermy best friend and fellow worrierhad died just two weeks before 9/ll. My fifteen-year-old son was about to embark on a trip to Europe, and I myself had not flown in an airplane for more than twenty years. Driving on highways terrified me. I drank inordinate amounts of wine. I was prone to smoking cigarettes. Oh, did I mention I was ten pounds overweight? Well, maybe it was more like fifteen. I couldnt really walk too far because of the closet smoking and over-drinking and really, why would I want to? I didnt know what might be lurking around the next corner: a mugger, a rapist, a pile of dog turd? To me, that was kind of what life seemed to be: a rather arduous walk and around every corner there might be skulking some kind of demoncould just be a kid with a skinned knee, could be a kid with a brain hemorrhage.

My life was like that: always looking on the dark side. Always imagining the worst. There were reasons for this, of course, and well look into them. Everyone has his or her reasons. But it doesnt have to be this way.

Im sitting, you see, in Lotus Position, which means you have to settle yourself on your rear with your spine straight, bend your knees and place your feet on your thighs. This may sound easy, but its not. Just try it: I dare you! (But try very gentlyI dont want to be sued.) That, however, is not the half it.

I am no longer ten or fifteen, or, okay, twenty pounds overweight. I weigh exactly what I should weigh. I have no negative comments to make about myself (or very few). I rarely think about death, and when I do its with curiosity and acceptance. I am proud of my children and confident that they will live long, healthy, successful lives (my eldest is now in Mexico, and my middle son spent last semester in Qatar; the youngestperhaps the bravestis in college and a rock band). I can do a headstand and a handstand, with ease. My life is filled with angelic, compassionate, gentle friendsmany of whom I have only met in the past few years. I am not afraid to drive on highways. Airplanes dont scare me. Cancer doesnt scare me (not that it excites me, either!)

The answer? Yoga. Yes, yes I know its a hackneyed word, bandied about by ancient yogis for thousands of years. And so many are doing it.

But are you doing it?

If you are , you will understand my story. If you aren t you must read my story. But rememberyoga isnt a quick fix; it seeps into your bones, your heart, and your soul over time.

YEAR ONE

The body is the temple of the soul. B.K.S. Iyengar

This life is more than just a read through. Red Hot Chili Peppers

Chapter One: June

The Family Jewels

Im off to yoga today, for the first time in my life. I go blind, deaf and very dumb; not knowing at all what yoga is about. I suspect it might involve a little stretching, and maybe keeping my eyes shut for longer than usual (as in playing Marco Polo at the pool with the kids). I have no idea that people stand on their heads, or maneuver into a Downward-Facing Dog posture that makes one feel as if ones skull will burst at the same time ones legs collapse. Im shocked that each class begins and ends with Om in unison, a practice that I find both terrifying and embarrassing.

Ive come to yoga class because Im falling apart. My therapist (a soft-spoken, slender lady whom Ive recently begun seeing) believes it might pull me together. Im doubtful, but whats to lose? I have a wonderful husband, three perfect boys, and a charming, little home in a New Jersey suburb. On the outside, I appear content and in control, but something tugs violently at my heart each morning; the mistakes Ive made, the wrong turns Ive taken, the losses that come with middle age, including the deaths of both of my parents. I have yet to find the gains of aging (except at my waist). Might yoga be a path?

I need a path because life has come to a sudden halt, as if Ive stubbed my toe at the gate to year fifty, and sit bleeding. Im afraid to pick myself up and carry on. Im afraid to move forward, and I cant go back, and in my paralyzed state I wonder if Ill even be able to figure this yoga thing out at all. In the past, I would have turned to my mother; though she couldnt calm my fears because she had too many of her own, at least we could commiserate. But now shes gone, and theres no one who seems to understand the agitated state of my mind. When I crawl into bed at night, my thoughts take hours to settle, and even when Im sleeping my worries seem to hum and vibrate beneath my pillow. Im literally driving myself crazy, and without my mom in the passenger seat, I know I cant continue to travel through life in this way.

Im afraid of little things, like traffic merges and snapping turtles, but Im also afraid of sending my fifteen year old son off to study in England for a month, afraid of flying, of losing my three nearly grown boys to adulthood and independence, frightened at the thought of them going off to college, afraid of illness, terrified of deathmy own, and everyone elsesand even scared of fully enjoying life because it can so easily slip between ones fingers. I hopeand if I prayed Id be prayingthat yoga will make a difference. But Im not a spiritual woman, and Im certainly not an avid exerciser. I havent been to church in more than twenty years, and the last time I moved fast enough to break a sweat I was chasing a toddler around a park.