The events in our world right now (climate change and losses due to fires and floods, the Covid pandemic and the uprising against discrimination and oppression) have brought grief, loss and trauma to the forefront of our collective experience, albeit in different ways. I feel like we are all the care-givers of a grieving world.

And it is SO HEAVY. 

With all this going on, I’ve been wondering:
How can I care for the people who need it?
How will we cope with ALL of this?
What can I do? 

I feel frantic to do something - get on zoom, get on Facebook or Instagram live, plan something to help...on and on and on...and simultaneously I think, "I don't know what to do." This tension between the two states is what this post is about. 

The quote that I opened this newsletter with has been a guiding one for me: 

"Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief.
Do justly now, love mercy now, walk humbly now.
You are not obligated to complete the work,
but neither are you free to abandon it.”

I will not abandon the work that needs to be done in the realm of grief support.

And yet, another guiding mantra I have is,“You are helpful in your helplessness.”

At first glance, it can seem impossible to balance these two things: Helplessness, but not abandoning the grief I witness.

I believe, however, that these two states are not incompatible with each other. Rather, there is a creative tension between them. They need each other. Especially now. 

In this context, being helpless doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means understanding that there is nothing that you can do to fix or take away someone’s pain. Recognizing helplessness creates connection and support because the griever is less alone when there is someone else willing to sit in the darkness with them. 

This, actually, is really hard for us helpers. Sometimes, the more we explore someone’s pain with them, the harder it is to remain "helpless." 

I see this in myself at times in my personal and professional life, when I’m witnessing someone else's grief or uncertainty. I want to jump in to make it all better. I want to take away the pain. I want to spew solutions, and tell them “everything is going to be OK.” 

{In moments like this, when you notice yourself placating, as yourself, "What am I trying to make more comfortable?" So often it's OUR OWN discomfort we are trying to appease, not the person we are supporting.}

Although this protective reaction is well meaning, it's not helpful. 

I have to mentally stop myself. I remind myself that there is absolutely nothing that I can say that will take the person’s pain away. Simply listening, and upholding the experience of the other person is the most genuine, compassionate and helpful response. Listen to their story, listen to their hurt. Listen to their fears. Don't try to change it for them. Stay humble.

Henri Nouwen captures this so vividly in this quote: 

“Healing means, first of all, the creation of an empty but friendly space where those who suffer can tell their story to someone who can listen with real attention.  As healers we have to receive the story of our fellow human beings with a compassionate heart, a heart that does not judge or condemn but recognizes  how the stranger’s story connects with our own.  We have to offer safe boundaries within which the often painful past can be revealed and the search for a new life can find a start.  Our most important question as healers is not, what to say or to do? But, how to develop enough inner space where the story can be received? Healing is the humble but also very demanding task of creating and offering a friendly empty space where strangers can reflect on their pain and suffering without fear, and find the confidence that makes them look for new ways right in the center of their confusion.”     

As a grief care-giver, you create the conditions for the griever to find their own way through their pain. This is how, as the quote says, "you are not obligated to complete the work." Everyone has to integrate their own loss themselves...  

Still, we cannot abandon grief, grievers, or ourselves.

In our society, how we deal with grief is a social justice issues. Perhaps it is more accurate to say how we don’t deal with grief is a social justice issue. 

We must commit to contributing to social change and justice for the grieving and the bereaved. 

We must remain open to witness and receive the discomfort within ourselves, and in our societies. 

We must do the personal work we need to be able to be in genuine connection and compassionate presence  with others. 

We cannot abandon grief. If we can support grief we can empower grievers, and with empowerment, people can integrate their losses in meaningful ways. 

​We can be helpful in our helplessness. 

The literal meaning of the word yoga comes from the Sanskrit root word yuj, which means to join or unite. Practically, however, yoga is a method of discipline, technique, philosophy, and ethical conduct, with the aim being to completely know yourself and be at peace with yourself. 

Most people think only of the physical poses when they think of yoga. In reality however, the poses (or asanas) are only a small part of a yoga practice. The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali refer to 8 limbs (or parts) of a yoga practice. I’ve outlined them below*: 

*Although I have listed the 8 limbs as separate, they are all interconnected and interwoven with each other. Yoga is a holistic practice that taps into multiple facets of mind and body, and has several cumulative effects. This synergy is difficult to capture with words. Nevertheless, I’ve broken down the 8 limbs of yoga below, to assist with your understanding of a holistic yoga practice, beyond just the poses…*

• Yamas - The yamas are 5 moral restraints or principles, which describe the great Vow of Yoga.  These are primarily concerned with your interaction with the world around you, or “yoga in action.” These include: 
  • Ahimsa (non violence) 
  • Satya  (truthfulness)
  • Asteya (non- stealing)
  • Brahmacarya (right use of energy)
  • Aparigraha (non-hoarding, the absence of greed)
• Niyamas - The niyamas are the 5 observances of yoga, and these are duties directed towards yourself. These include: 
  • Sauca (purity/bodily purification)
  • Santosa (contentment)
  • Tapas (zeal/ austerity/ascetic practice)
  • Svadhyaya (self study, self-reflection, study of sacred texts)
  • Isvara-pranidhana (dedication or surrender to a higher power)
• Asana - Asana is the physical postures of yoga, and the most commonly known limb of yoga in the west. The purpose of asana is to refine your body, deepen sensory awareness and enhance concentration.  Each yoga asana (pose) should be steady and comfortable, and combined with a complete relaxation of effort. 
• Pranayama - The word Prana refers to ‘energy’ or ‘life source.’ Pranayama involves the breath, by either controlling it, or freeing yourself from your habitual way of breathing. Pranayama develops inward concentration and controls the flow of prana (life force) throughout the body, to focus it for meditation.  
• Pratyahara - Pratyahara describes the ‘withdrawal,’ or ‘drawing back in’ of your senses. It is not a shutting off of your senses, but a deeper awareness and focused harmony of the senses that allows you to focus more internally without distraction by the external world. 
• Dharana - Dharana means concentration. It is the focus of your mind in one place. This requires a single point of concentration – maybe the breath, or a candle flame, or the repetition of a word.
• Dhyana - Dhyana means meditation and is defined as effortless attention, where the flow of attention is uninterrupted by erroneous ideas or thoughts.  This is not something that you actively “do,” but something that spontaneously happens as a result of all of the other elements of yoga creating the right conditions for meditation to happen spontaneously.  
• Samadhi - Samadhi is pure contemplation, bliss or enlightenment. It does not describe an escape to bliss, rather, realizing your life exactly as it is, without disturbance of your mind and thoughts, judgments, habits, distractions, or distorted perceptions. This is the ultimate union – knowing yourself and being at peace with yourself…free from suffering, doubt and confusion.  

Interestingly, the purpose of yoga is the cessation of churning  thoughts in the mind. Combined, these 8 limbs  settle a fragmented, vacillating and distracted mind into a single point of focus. A calm and focused mind is one that can connect (unite) with the body. This focused attention and connection creates the freedom to live inwardly and outwardly in an aware and peaceful way. This is yoga. 

Yoga for Grief Support: Yoga is not a fix for your pain, rather it’s a support that tends to the body and the mind. It activates your own inner resources to create the conditions you need to heal. In congruence with the word yoga meaning to unite, after loss yoga helps to “unite” all the parts of yourself that feel broken and dismembered; so that you are re-membering in a way that integrates the loss into your life, so you can eventually live well again. 

Yoga encourages you to be an active participant in your own healing. It’s a tangible practice that you can do by yourself and for yourself. Often, the effects of a practice can be felt the first time your try it, which is encouraging, and makes it more likely you will do it again.  

Yoga is a process. We call it a “yoga practice” because each time you get on your yoga mat it can feel different and we practice ‘showing up’ with compassionate curiosity, tending to each moment, each sensation and each emotion as it arises. My only "rule" in  exploring your mind and body through yoga is to be gentle and kind with yourself. 

“Words fail to convey the total value of yoga. It has to be experienced.” – B.K.S. Iyengar

Michael Meade (who hosts a wonderful podcast called Mosaic Voices that talks about soulful mythology in our present day) describes the New Year as a rite of passage; a ritual to end the old year, and celebrate the start of a new period. A time of renewal, of beginnings. A threshold time. A liminal space; 2019 is gone, 2020 is yet to come.

Grief is also a threshold time. Grief plunks you in liminal space - betwixt and between two lives that don’t seem to fit; you live suspended between a past for which you long and a future for which you hope, to quote Gerald Sittser, from his book A Grace Disguised.

Living in liminal space is hard. It’s uncomfortable. It’s unknowable. In a society that has an abundance of drive to DO things, and become "better" (what does that even mean?), existing in a threshold time can feel like you are doing it "wrong."

You aren't. 

This is precisely what grief calls us to do - slow down, and pause. Give yourself the time to be in emotional and spiritual intensive care. It’s in this threshold space that you figure out how to live your changed life, and that takes time, it takes living, and it's really, really hard. This is how loss and grief become an integrated part of your whole. 

If you’ve been living moment to moment, or hour to hour to get through the early months after a loss, extending your mind into the future (planning a resolution at New Year’s) can be especially daunting and lonesome. Opens up a new abyss of grief and longing for things to be different. And yet, they aren’t.

I remember talking to a  dear friend about this - how as time went on, and we started living day to day, then week to week, then month to month, it was harder in different ways.  As such, the custom to make a New Year’s resolution can be wrought with anxiety, especially when life has changed so much already. If this resonates with your experience, here are some things to consider:

• You don’t have to make a resolution. Although I don’t know the details of your life lately, I’d take the chance to guess that you’ve been doing the best you can with what you have. The last thing you need is to shame any part of your experience, because you “should” be doing better. You’ve been doing the best you can. Take care of this fact within you...make space for it...cover it with compassion. You’ve been doing the best you can...

 

• If you have made a New Year's resolution, resolve to understand that it takes months or years to recreate life after loss. Think of this as a marathon, not a sprint. There is no rush. The deeper the grief, the slower you go. 

 

• Remember that there are other days or times throughout the year that renewal can happen. Don’t put all your eggs in the New Year's  basket - don’t put that much pressure on yourself (see the first bullet). I write these posts at holiday times knowing that there are aspects of the "holidays" that are especially challenging for the grieving, yet I also know that there are other, random days throughout the year that are hard too (or harder). There are also days that the waves of grief will subside, and your sea will be calm. There will be other times (besides New Year's) you feel a sense of renewal, or start something new, or take baby steps into your life with more ease in your heart. If New Year's  isn’t that time, it isn’t that time. Don’t fight yourself to be where you are not.

 

• Explore Wise Hope. Rilke said, “And now let us believe in a long year that is given to us, new, untouched, full of things that have never been.” Often when I think about the future, I worry. I don’t like not knowing what is going to happen. My mind likes to pretend it’s in control. I recently came across this concept of Wise Hope, and it really spoke to me. The foundation of this is trust - trust that no matter what happens, I know I will show up for myself and do what I need to in the moment….and only in that moment of life happening will I know how I need to respond. By turning towards (instead of away from) the uncertainty of 365 unknown days before me, I see it as an open space in which I have the power to act and be a part of in whatever way I need to when the time arrives. “Wise hope is not seeing things unrealistically but rather seeing things as they are, including the truth of suffering—both its existence and our capacity to transform it. It’s when we realize we don’t know what will happen that this kind of hope comes alive; in that spaciousness of uncertainty is the very space we need to act.” Read more about Wise Hope here. 

 

• Lastly, this poem. Last winter, I took an online course called Holy Brokenness  and this poem was shared. It’s been on my mind since. I’d love to hear what you think of it...(refer to point #1 above as an introductory pre-amble)

The Wound of Love by Maya Luna
​Today
I gave up
On healing my trauma
I gave up
On practicing the skills
To become whole
Today I gave up
On evolving
Into that ever elusive
Better version of myself
Today I submitted
To the wound of love
I stopped pointing at it
Looking at it
Soothing it
Tweaking it
Fixing it
Finessing it
Hiding it
Polishing it
I stopped this game of separation
I crawled inside the wound
And spread it open
I decided to wear it like a gown
I accepted my total and utter
Failure
To be anything else
But me

Blessings to you all.

You're perfect just the way you are... I know it may not feel like it, but know your heart is still shining like the sun. 

Namaste,
Sandy

​When a loss happens, it's natural to want to solve it right away. To do something, anything to make it better. But staring a grief support group too early can be counter productive. 

These early days of grief remind me of something important.

Early on, there is a tendency to move away from the reality of the loss. This is a protective response of the heart.

I see this in myself. Instead of using yoga as a way to process what I'm feeling, I've been using it as a distraction. I want my practice to be sweaty and muscley and fast...not a lot of time to think or feel. This is what I need right now. It would be counter productive to the needs of my heart and spirit to force exploring emotions that I'm not ready to feel.

As time passes (and there is no set timeline), and numbness wears off, you will naturally move towards the pain and realities of the loss. It's often as the numbness fades and the realities of living with loss set in,  that more support is needed. It is then, that a class like Yoga for Grief Support may be helpful.

In the Yoga for Grief Support program, we use yoga and meditation as a way to "go inside" and explore the pain and reality of the loss. One has to be "ready" to do this. Starting too early may feel like you are driving with one foot on the gas and one foot on the brake.

In most cases (not all), it may take a number of weeks to a few months to be ready for a class like Yoga for Grief Support. Each circumstance is different, with a number of factors affecting someone's readiness. Sometimes, people start a group and realize it's too soon. That's OK too - it's impossible to know what this grief experience is like because each loss is so different.

If you want to explore this further with me, feel free to reach out via email.

I find the poem below, by Wendell Berry to be helpful when considering if you need specific grief support. Sometimes, it is when you don't know what to do, that you are ready to start. 

November was a rough month in my  world. On November 14th, after a two year illness, my Dad died. He had pulmonary fibrosis.

Over the past two years, I have been mentally drafting a blog post called: When It Happens Again.

IT being death and emotional trauma. 

I remember feeling such protest as I was considering the fact that IT could (would) happen again.  A deep revolt and fear around knowing what grief is like, and not wanting to go down that path again.

This mental blog post I had drafted was going to be a piece around how I would cope with grief the next time 'round, based on everything I had experience and learnt since the first time 'round. 

Things like:

• I'd express my feelings more openly.
• I'd be more authentic. When asked "how are you?" I'd answer truthfully instead of just saying, "I'm fine." 
• I'd make self supportive choices unapologetically.

I never did write that post.

I kind of wish that I had - then I could refer back to it as a little pep talk for myself. 

The above is the quote that starts this book. I read it. Stopped. Read it again. I can relate to that, I thought.

I actually thought that many times throughout this book - which is what I liked the most. I saw myself in the pages. That, combined with the science she describes, helped me understand my own experience of grief and trauma in a much deeper way. Not only that, this book is a rabbit hole of quotable quotes and excellent references. The bibliography is pages long...a gold mine for a book worm like myself. 

Anyway...

Lisa Shulman is a Neurologist, and this book is a memoir of her own experience with grief before her husband died, and after, as the title indicates. Her personal experience is  combined with her knowledge of how the brain works to organize our reality...and in the case of grief, how it it becomes disorganized and damaged after a loss. The neurology of grief. 

Before:
Lisa writes about her life with Bill (her husband) when he was sick and dying. The one thing that struck me was how their intimacy with each other was a barrier throughout his illness. "We're stumbling because we care to deeply for each other" (page 6).  I found it heartbreaking to look into such an intense and personal time in their life and relationship...but, as Lisa writes later in the book, the trauma and disorientation of loss is based not only in the biology of sorrow, but the biology of intimacy. Our brains are wired a certain way because of our relationships and intimate bonds. Reading about Lisa's life with Bill before his death helps to illustrate this point in the "After" section of the book. 

After:
There is something about how Lisa Shulman writes. It is surprising - she captures perfectly, states, emotions and thoughts that I've had, but a) haven't been able to put into words, or b) hesitant to talk about for fear of...I dunno...judgement maybe? For example, her disdain for condolence cards (I remember feeling this way) and her desire to be more a part of "the other side" with Bill, than the side of the living (yep, I've felt this too). In her words: 

Condolences: Hundreds were received - all unwelcome. "I'm moved when I sense the grief of others, but i envy how they touch down in my world and return to theirs. Condolences don't begin to fill the canyon of loss" (page 42).
After his death: "I continue to live with Bill, in an inner world where, from moment to moment, i’m conscious of his response to the day’s events, to how my life unfolds. He continues to guide me. I was his muse; now he is mine" (page 46).

*As I write this, I'm finding it hard to limit myself to just one example of a piece that "hit home" for me...*
​
She captures a lot of the nuances of the grief experience that are irrational, heart centered and spirit based very clearly and wholly. 

Hence, when Lisa shifts from writing about her personal experience of grief, to one more of science and reflection on the neurology of loss I got tense. I was worried that this beautiful piece of writing was turning cold...rational...cerebral. But, in the end, it didn't at all - she was able to still be both - rational and irrational. Head and heart. Mystical and scientific. She still used her personal experience to illustrate her points, but she refers to many studies, outcomes, and sciencey things, like the neuroplasticity of the brain. The overall effect works.  I was fascinated by the science that explains so much of what I experienced personally with grief. Everything from dreams to mindfulness to post-traumatic stress. 

I've learnt over the years that I don't need proof of anything beyond my own personal experience when it comes to grief, but it really was  reassuring to understand some of the biology and neurology behind grief.

I found the end of the book very hopeful. She  writes extensively on the science of emotional restoration and healing - from meditation to medication. She illustrates how a heightened nervous system post trauma can be tamed by periods of meditation, and warm companionship, where a healthy outcome is self-exploration and growth. She believes in both mindfulness as a way to immerse oneself in witnessing their grief, but also periods of distraction which give much needed rest. 

Do you know the phrase, "don't tell me how much you know, until I know how much you care"?
​Well, by the end of this book I truly believe that Lisa Shulman doesn't only know about how the brain changes after a death, but she cares. ​​

In summary, this is another book I'd like to add to my shelf permanently (the copy I read was from the public library). It's a book I'd refer to again and again....and, of course, to tackle that bibliography :)

​Sandy

 
It's October, the month of Canadian Thanksgiving, and messages of gratitude are inescapable. I came across an article online that was titled "Go From Grumpy to Grateful in 5 seconds!!" It irritated me.  

I'm irritated by the simplicity and instantaneous of it. Especially in October, when the bereaved are staring Thanksgiving in the face, wondering about how to navigate this "holiday" of gratitude, togetherness and abundance, when life has been irrevocably changed by something as uncontrollable and in-suppressible as death and grief.

Grumpy to grateful in 5 seconds
The premise is that  changing your language from "I have to" to "I get to" creates more gratitude. For example, changing the statement "I have to go to work today," to "I get to go to work today" does make me feel more grateful for the fact that I have a job I love. I do find that it shifts my perspective in a positive way, and I'm not denying that this could be beneficial. But, with grief, I'm not so sure it's a helpful strategy. Especially in the early days and months after a loss.  

I think back to the first Thanksgiving after Cam died. I could have said, "I get to go to our family dinner," but the only person I was looking for in that crowded room was him. I could have said, "I got to have him in my life" instead of "I have to live without him," but NO...at that time, the amount of instinctual protest I felt over his death screamed without end "I HAVE TO LIVE WITHOUT HIM IN MY LIFE." Gratefulness felt trite, empty and impossible.

In the past, wrote a blog post about this experience, and outlined some ways to make gratitude more accessible while grieving (you can read it here)...but this week, I was reminded by a grieving friend that sometimes, gratitude just isn't there. Period.

It got me thinking...

This divisive mindset of grumpy or grateful, or sad or happy, sorrow or joy, isn't helpful. It doesn't capture the complexity of human emotion, nor does it promote understanding the parts of ourselves that are so obviously calling out for attention and compassion.

What is wrong with feeling grumpy instead of grateful? I think it's an appropriate way to feel if someone you love has just died, and Thanksgiving is approaching. Just because it's October, doesn't mean your grief vanishes and is replaced  by gratitude in 5 seconds!

If you find yourself unable to feel grateful this Thanksgiving, try releasing the struggle to feel something you don't feel. Don't engage in a discordant battle with yourself. What if you gave yourself permission to just feel what you feel?

Invite the sorrow to sit beside you at the table, so it doesn't have to struggle or compete for your attention. When there is no battle inside, you can listen to yourself and your needs with more clarity. What do you really need to feel more peace/balance/support/recognized/acknowledged/heard etcetera? 

The integration of grief requires authentic expression of your experience. Especially the hard stuff. And, it also requires safe people and places for you to explore your grief and changed self. May your Thanksgiving plans include some of these people and places....

With time, no timeline, and from a place of true integration of your loss(es) and grief, gratefulness may spontaneously arise. And, because you'll have been practiced at paying attention to all aspects of life (the beauty and the pain), it's presence and your awareness of it will be even deeper. 
 
I'd love to know your thoughts on this:

What is Thanksgiving like for you this year? And, what has gratitude/gratefulness been like in your experience of loss? 

Wishing you moments of peace this weekend.

Namaste,
Sandy

This summer, I created a poll on instagram to ask you about your experiences with savasana: Do you practice it? What's the easiest part about it? The hardest? Did it change after your loss? 

I got lots of replies. Here is a summary. 

Do you practice it? Yes and No. Some practice it regularly. Some did and don't any more. Some don't. The reasons for not include: not having the time (even though you know it helps, it's hard to make the time for it), and being fearful of what will come up during the pose (primarily emotion). For the ones that do, repeated and consistent practice was helpful in releasing chronically held tension. However, even with this knowledge, maintaining a regular practice of savasana was a challenge.

What's the easiest? Some reported a feeling of relaxation: "Sinking into the earth," while other reported other things like crying or sleeping.

The hardest part? Almost everyone reported the swelling of emotion or the activity in the mind being the hardest part about the pose. Finding the courage to do it was another. A couple of people mentioned the name - Corpse Pose - being disturbing enough that it was a barrier to their practice...and when the name corpse pose was used by a teacher loosely during a class, the practice became triggering, unsettling and unsafe.

Did the practice of savasana change after loss? With this question I was hoping to glean information around the effect that grief had on one's ability to relax. For most, it did change after loss - in the ways mentioned above. For some, they had never practiced it before, so post-loss it was a new experience. 

What have I noticed as a grief-sensitive yoga teacher? 
In my experience, teaching yoga as a supportive practice for grief, I've noticed how important savasana and relaxation are to living with loss. So important in fact, that I weave the essesnce of savasana into the entire class. The relaxation of effort that one finds in savasana isn't only present in the last 3, 5 or 10 minutes of class, but it is part of the entire experience of yoga asana and mindfulness throughout, especially when it comes to coping with difficult states of mind and emotion.

To me, savasana is an orientation to yoga. An emotional stance towards your practice. This pose embodies the nature and purpose of the entire practice.

And yet, when I go to "regular" yoga classes, savasana is skimmed over, or worse, skipped completely. If it's not, the guidance is around relaxing the body, with less advice on dealing with mental tension, and usually NO advice on how to deal with emotional release during the pose...which is a very  a common experience of those grieving. And so, this important pose - one that embodies the heart of yoga, and is exceptionally helpful to those experiencing ongoing states of suffering - becomes one that is avoided and misunderstood. 

That is why I created this video. I believe that savasana should be taught and practiced with the same depth of technique as headstand or a fancy arm balancing pose. I believe that the teaching of it should include, not only the body, but information about how to consciously relax the mind, as well as the emotions. And it's not simply "letting go" (a phrase that in its popularity has seemed to lose any real meaning). It's more about becoming deeply aware of your states of mind and emotions, and from there, working wisely with them.

So, I hope you enjoy this video. 

The first 10 minutes are a preamble about why savasana is hard. I recommend you listen to it and take some time to reflect on how our modern and western view of relaxation has shaped your experience and ability to relax. 

For the practice, you will need a couple of blankets - one rolled up for behind your knees (or a bolster) and one folded for your head (or a small pillow). It may also be nice to have a blanket to cover up with. 

If you want to explore some of the topics I mention in this video, I have numerous blog posts on the subject:

• It's Actually Called Corpse Pose: The Art and Science of Relaxation
• Savasana is a Practice
• Savasana: Tips and Techniques
• Savasana Versus Sleep
• The Relaxation Response

Namaste,

​Sandy

I had an exceptionally emotional week last week for a number of reasons, and had an upsurging of raw grief by the end. I was done. Exhausted. Mentally, physicaly and emotionally. I was sleepy in the car and anxious to get home, have a hot shower and crawl into bed. Which I did. But once I was lying down, self talk that resisted rest started to bubble up.
 
While my legs felt like lead, and they literally sunk into the mattress, my mind started to come up with all-the-things I could be doing - stuff like: dishes, sweeping the floor, this blog post. When my legs didn't respond to that call to action, my mind started getting dramatic: "If you don't get up now, you may never get out of bed again." Has this happened to you?

"If I start crying now, I may never stop."
"If I  rest now, I may never stop."

What is this?!

Dramatic Sandy was worried I'd lay there forever and never get up again. Wise Sandy piped up with a reality check: "You'll be out of bed in 20 minutes to pee." I had to giggle at this internal dialogue. Myself cutting myself some slack to both rest, and give myself the space to do so. Sure enough, I was out of bed later that night (a couple of times), and I did, in fact, get out of bed the next day.

Why do we do this? Why do we mentally resist rest when our bodies so deeply need it? 
 
I have a few theories...

First, we live in a society that values efficiency and productivity. We hold an unusual status symbol: being busy. It's as though being busy equates with being needed...indespensable...valued...respected by the capitalist machine that makes the world go 'round.

We see this in our view of the body as well. The body as a machine. We become practiced at ignoring our instincts to stop - we work when we are sick, we take medicine to get rid of the sore throat and congestion so we can continue on as normal. We adhere to the only-a-few-days-off-after-a-death-rule, returning to work right after the funeral and before the reality of the death has even sunk in. We are always reachable by text, email, messenger or phone, and responses are expected quickly. We push ourselves, without taking care of ourselves. My car gets an oil change more frequently that I take time off work, for goodness sake.

Second, this addiction to busyness has become a coping mechanism. If I'm busy, I'm distracted. I don't have time or space to feel. Which, at some times, can be helpful. Other times, not so much.

Third, our own personal self-talk and beliefs around rest (which have perhaps been contaminated by points one and two above).

I noticed my self-talk/thought while I was lying in bed last week wondering if I'd ever get out. It went something like this:  "If I succumb to my fatigue, I've given up." And "my need to rest is proof that things are as bad as they seem, and I can't handle it." 

Look at the language I've used in the previous statements: succumb, given up, rest means things are bad, I can't handle it. The language I've chosen, highlights my beliefs about rest...interesting. And worrisome. 

(Be careful how you talk to yourself because you are listening).

I'm reminded of the yogic teachings around the constant churning and agitation of thoughts in the mind. The verse in the Yoga Sutras that reads, Yoga citta vritti nirodhah (Chapter 1, v. 2) and means "yoga is the resolution of the agitations of the mind." Judith Hanson Lasater recently described this on the Feathered Pipe Blog. She described the agitations of the mind as being continual and both conscious and unconscious. They are also the root of our lack of understanding about who we really are and what reality is. 

Noticing my agitated thoughts around rest has got me wondering: How has my culture shaped my beliefs around rest? How do my beliefs about grief and suffering relate to my beliefs about rest? How is resisting rest working for me? How is my identity wrapped up in my ability/inability to rest? What is my reality?

(Yoga is the state in which the agitations of consciousness are resolved).

I've been following the Nap Ministry on Instagram for a while now. Contrary to the resistance to rest, their slogan is REST AS RESISTANCE. This is from their website: 

"The Nap Ministry is a meditation on naps as resistance. It is an artistic, historical and spiritual examination on the liberating power of naps. It re imagines why rest is a form of resistance and shines a light on the issue of sleep deprivation as a justice issue. It is counter narrative to the belief that we all are not doing enough and should be doing more. We are community centered. We are focused on radical self-care." 
 
YES.

These are some of the phrases from Nap Ministry Instagram page that have inspired me to reframe how I view rest: 

I know that a very limiting factor with regards to rest and grief is being unable to sleep. Here again, we can broaden our narrow view of rest to include other things. 

Rest is a huge part of integrating loss and grief.

Grief and rest cannot be "managed" simply by an act of will. It takes surrender. Letting go of the conditions that create more suffering. Letting go of the conditions and agitations of the mind that create rules that simply don't benefit. Letting go of the to dos, and shoulds, simply surrendering to what is truly needed in the moment. So often it's rest. 

Namaste,
​Sandy