A Case for Mindfulness

It’s interesting how the burgeoning spa industry is about holistic healing—at least in part; the other part is our desire to turn back the clock, or freeze-frame it at the very least, which I think is my next point.

It’s so easy, even for those of us who are ‘students’ of it, to lose sight of the reason we care about the land of spa. All these ancient treatments and practices—Ayurveda, Native American healing rituals, Balinese casting of the dream ball, European water cures, yoga—that we feel moved explore, all rise from this central idea of nurturing mindfulness.

The question of whether these practices can coexist in purity as multinational corporations that are laying claim to them is something I contemplate, and about which I feel a little vigilant.

To that end, I feel the need to lighten up a bit. The other day I came upon a blog that I really like, written by a comedian/clinical psychologist called The Healing Power of Laughter. I like the dots he’s connecting about the healing power of laughter. It’s a smart blog and you should check it out.

Pranayama mama

Everything is fixed in the breath. It’s undisputedly the life force, our source of nourishment—physically, emotionally, spiritually. When we’re challenged, feeling anxious and disconnected, within any of those self-preserving fundamental systems, always take refuge in your breath.

Yet we don’t because breathing as an involuntary function, we’re not going to forget to breathe. But meaningful breathing with intention is different—when it matters most. I forget to breathe meaningfully all the time. I find myself holding my breath when I need to breathe fully the most.

I love yoga because it’s an opportunity to focus on my breathing in a way that can deliver me into a profound state of peace. That’s why I miss it so much since I fractured the ol’ foot. Since last winter I had gotten back into a regular yoga practice with a teacher, Lee Gregory, who I totally adore, who in my whole yoga life is the only teacher I ever had who somehow, by her words, her gentle nature, allowed me to breathe consistently, deeper, for an entire 1 and ½ hour class. I continue to remember that class with all the pride of a first-grader who comes home with a star on her homework assignment.

I’ve been noticing my mood can swing from crazed to stupefied at the lack of control I have over my life right now. “It’s as if you’re under house arrest, my friend Annette said to me.” “Yeah, but I’m no Aung San Suu Kyi, I thought to myself. I can get impatient, bitchy. Physical release in the form of yoga or any kind of exercise, has always been key for keeping my sanity intact.

You probably know the word yoga means union in Sanskrit. It’s usually defined as union with the divine within—me, you, us—bringing the physical and mental exercises into union. So even though I cannot do my asanas, the postures, I can practice pranayama, meaningful breath, to transcend this rather stifling period I’m going through. Just this morning while washing my coffee cup I consciously took a big, deep and totally exhilarating breath. For a moment I felt high. That was a good reminder for me of how to take yoga off the mat, as they say.

Two good books on the subject, both by the same author, Richard Rose, are "The Yoga of Breath" and "Pranayama Beyond the Fundamentals." He's also a contributing editor for Yoga Journal.