Wednesday, November 23, 2011

In The Flow

I'm currently taking an online class in conflict resolution from the Australian based Conflict Resolution Network. In one of the first class modules I worked on, the concept of Fight, Flight, and Flow was introduced as a model for how many of us respond to conflicts within our lives.

I was struck by how much the model resonated with me not only with the conflicts that manifest in my interpersonal relationships, but also the internal conflicts that I have on the mat within my yoga practice. The model assumes that in any given situation in which conflict arises we are faced with how we will respond (better yet, will we react, or respond). Our options are to either escalate the conflict by engaging in fight mode, which invites aggression and resistance into the conflict. We can also react with a flight response, which means we don't engage with the conflict at all inviting passivity and apathy into the conflict. The third way, or response, which invites creativity into the conflict is flow. Flow is the approach in which we shift our mindset from "Ugh, another conflict, not this again" to "Ah, conflict, what an opportunity!"

For me I pondered how this plays out within my own practice when challenges come my way--how do I respond, with fight, flight, or flow? I took time to explore what each of these could look like and encourage you to explore the ways in which you fight, flight, or flow within your own practice too.

Fight mode in practice is when we let aggression take over. It can begin when we start to enter into poses we know we are not ready for, simply because we're trying to prove we can even when we know the modification would be better for where we are in the moment. It can be forcing our body to do things too early, or when we're too tired in the practice. It can also be the "should" voice in which rather than deeply listening to the rhythm within, we "should" on ourselves and do things in our practice that aren't truly good for us in the moment. For me, it's also inflaming the voices in my head that I call the "I suck" mode--the voice that says that anything I do is not good enough and which seeks perfection rather than opening up to and accepting "what is" about this moment. What are some of the other ways fight mode can manifest?


Flight mode manifests as the resistance to doing poses we don't "like" and not putting our fullest into co-creation with the breath and pose. It happens when we stop paying attention to our breath and focus on trivial things (like in pigeon pose playing with your toes rather than being in the experience of the pose). It's the convenient excuse to go to the restroom when practice hits an important peak, or when you are asked to try something new, or something you find challenging. What are ways that flight has manifested for you in your practice?

Flow mode is that space of bravery, of being willing to come face to face with the challenge and engage with it in a co-creative dance. It's the response, "oh this again, how fascinating." It's the spark of curiosity that opens up pathways of connection and beauty in practice. It's a state of being open and the willingness to be opened. What ways has flow manifested for you?

Thinking about all the ways to respond to challenges in your practice, do you notice any patterns for yourself? For me, I am reminded of the quote from A Course in Miracles which says a miracle is just a shift in perception. To enter flow mode all that has to change is our thoughts about the situation. The shift from, "oh this again" to "Oh! This again, what an opportunity" is huge.

Blessings to all of you!

Saturday, November 12, 2011

It's always there.

Rolling out my yoga mat has taken on new significance for me this week. I have been wonderfully reminded every morning as I have practiced that no matter how we change or what we have been through, the practice is always there ready to engage with us in co-creative partnership.

What a relief to have this experience, or remembering, after what felt like a long, and quite frankly, lonely exile from a relationship that had meant so much to me over the years. For the last few years, as I exited my role as a yoga teacher, my own physical yoga practice had changed quite dramatically. What was once a tool for deep and profound physical, mental, and spiritual exploration had become over the last two years a symbol of what my life once was. Every time I practiced, it was tinged with complex feelings that kept me wrapped up in the head and far removed from my heart. I had built up quite a challenging relationship with my practice and with my identification with the larger yoga community. My asana practice had become spotty and irregular, and when it had occurred I did not bring to it the same enthusiasm I once had. I was stuck in an old way of being and not quite ready to move on, and not sure even what that meant.

Additionally, having moved around so much in the last six years I had cultivated and created many wonderful relationships with several yoga communities. I made many friends, taught alongside many great and inspiring teachers, and had several incredible heart opening connections with students. One blessing from all of that is that anytime I need to be reminded of the ONE, I reflect on all of those whose lives touched mine, and whose lives I was lucky to touch. That being said, all that moving also prevented me from having long lasting and deeply rooted connections anywhere, and by the time I had moved to Portland and was no longer teaching, I had no physical sangha (community) with which I could connect with during this time of transition.

I found myself in an awkward place. Practice and engagement with yoga had lost the meaning I once had for it. What a crises. Initially I responded to the crises with indifference, and then resentment, and then eventually acceptance. I finally came to a place where I was ok with where I was both with my practice (which was spotty) and with my relationship with the larger yoga community (absent)...or so I thought....

It was clear to me, more than two years ago, that I was quickly becoming burned out from teaching and that my body was revolting from the practice as I had been executing it. I had become psychologically and emotionally drained and rather than take a break and regroup--I kept pushing the limits and one day stopped doing everything. A wall was created that I could no longer climb over.

For those who have followed this blog in the past, or who don't know my story, a short synopsis is that after five years of teaching yoga I stopped to go back into social work. For some reason I felt as if I was not doing enough to bring peace to the world, or to address social injustices. I felt that I could, and had to do more. What I have come to discover is that it was a false choice. I don't regret my decision fully, because I certainly learned so much from my time being back in the social work arena. Never had I been tested in all my life to deeply explore the values that I claimed to live by. I had to learn forgiveness, nonviolence, compassion, resiliency, and accountability in ways that I never could through the path I was on. I had to apply those principles in complex, confusing, and heart-breaking situations both with myself and with others. I am certainly a more awake and aware and better human being for the experience, but it's only in the last few months that I have come to see it that way.

For the first time in more than two years there is a bubbling forth of creative life affirming energy inside me. There is a growing yes where for so long there was a no. I don't think I am quite out of my cocoon quite yet, and I am not even sure what is waiting to fly out once free, but I do feel the spark and at last I am ready to co-create again. I can't wait to share some the plans I have for new projects once they are more fully developed.

What I can say for now is how amazing it is that we have this ancient, time tested practice that is always there for us, ready to meet us where we are, should we choose to enter into conscious relationship with it. As I roll out my mat this week, it is with more reverence, excitement, gratitude, and humbleness of the many gifts it has given to me and the gifts it has allowed me to provide to others.

The practice is always there for us, no matter what, and if we allow it to, it will change us too.

In gratitude always,

Michael