Welcome back to my Healing Motion Blog. If you read last week’s Healing Motion Blog please scroll down to the Chapter 6 excerpt.
If you’re new to my Blog, please enjoy the full page:
I am continuing to enjoy the process of editing each chapter and flashback for my upcoming memoir, Apple In My Truck, A Pathway to Inner Peace.
Erin R Lund of Sunshine Editorial Services is currently hard at work brightening each paragraph. I am grateful to Erin for her professionalism, enthusiasm, and quick wit.
My initial editor was Angie Bihn. She had helped me to unbury my painful past while writing and editing. I have referred to Angie in previous blogs as my personal therapeutic archeologist. I am thankful to have Angie’s brilliance within the pages of Apple In My Truck.
Allow me to briefly explain my history with writing. One afternoon during elementary school recess, in 1978, my teacher kept me confined to the classroom while the other children got to play. Her reasoning was that I needed to learn how to NOT talk during the moment that she was attempting to perform the roll call duties.
My punishment was to stand in front of the chalkboard and write out, ‘I Will Not Talk In Class,’ one-hundred times. So you can imagine that I never really liked writing much when I was younger.
During 1993 through 2011 I worked in the emergency medical and fire service profession while living in Arizona. Patient documentation was a daily requirement. Therefore, while I worked for the fire service, the act of writing was never enjoyable.
However, in 2011, I discovered a Yoga Teacher Training program. It was my yoga teacher trainers who helped me to realize that yoga wasn’t only a physical practice. They’d taught me that yoga is about joining together or ‘yoking’ your mind, body and spirit. I’d learned how to connect to my higher Self mentally, emotionally, physically and spiritually.
Today, I continue to practice the ancient teachings of yoga. Specially the teachings of an ancient sage known as Patanjali. He is famous for his teachings of the Yoga Sutras. The Eight-Limb Path of Yoga is embedded within the Yoga Sutras.
Svadhyaya (self-study, study of the Self, journaling) is the fourth tenant that resides underneath the second-limb or Niyamas, which inspired me to begin journaling or writing.
My yogic path of a daily Sadhana (practice) of the Eight-Limb Path of Yoga continues. I will be a forever student of yoga continually visiting the teachings of Patanjali to learn, explore and reach my own pathway to inner peace.
Below is a short excerpt from Chapter Six, Monkey Bars, from Apple In My Truck, A Pathway to Inner Peace.
Chapter 6 - Monkey Bars
It’s not always easy to remember to feel more than think, but when I do, the benefits I receive are plentiful. In those moments, my fear, pain, doubt, shame, blame, and worry fade into the background, and I feel renewed. Eventually, though, my emotions flood back into my system. When that happens, I remember to practice my yogic techniques of relaxing the mind.
The parallel and monkey bars of a nearby park caught my eye one day while driving through town. I felt like they were staring at me, each imparting their own messages. The parallel bars’ message was: Nice work! You’ve come a long way from your Rehab days recovering from your traumatic car accident. However, the monkey bars weren’t so encouraging: You’re afraid of me, I know you are.
I slowed down and glared at the monkey bars. I felt like my mind was imprisoning me with its harsh commentary: You won’t ever be able to hang from me again like you did when you were a kid. Remember how I used to hold you by the back of your knees while your arms dangled? Those days are long gone.
I felt drained by the negative self-talk. In truth, I was terrified of falling and becoming physically dependent on others again. I wanted to maintain control over my forward trajectory on my pathway of inner peace. Yet, I was letting myself be intimidated by monkey bars. There was, after all, a very real possibility of hurting myself on them. The thought filled me with fear.
I reflected on the playground as I drove home. After pulling into the driveway, I sought a cup of java inside to help me clear my mind. I knew darn well that Tony Joe would be arriving soon, as he had volunteered to design a postcard for my small business, Healing Motion. A few moments later, Gus alerted me to Tony Joe’s arrival by quivering from paw to tail. I wrapped my arms around his tall, strong build.
“Son, it’s so good to see your smile.”
Tony Joe shared his morning’s thrilling golf experience. “Mom, I spotted a bobcat moving across the greens!”
We made our way back to my home office to begin working on my business postcard. While Tony Joe waited for the old desktop computer to warm up, he walked into the weight room, hopped up onto the multi-functional weight machine and began whipping out pull-ups.
“Mom have you been lifting weights recently?”
I knelt down slowly to do a deep lunge stretch. “No. No weights for me. My yoga practice gives me all the resistance I need by moving my own body weight.”
He was hanging by his hands and arms from the pull up bar and must have sensed I’d wanted his help when he asked, “Mom what are your fitness goals?”
I switched my lunge to the other leg. “Remember, I told you I’d tossed out all my fitness journals along with any fitness goals. Instead, I want to experience the present moment and feel, rather than log, what’s going on in my physical realm. Pausing to reflect on my current activity is much more enjoyable than my past habit of setting deadlines.”
He whipped out another round of pullups.
“Tony Joe, I need you to help me get over a big fear of mine.”
He laughed. “What’s the fear?”
I stood under the pull-up bar. “My fear is hanging upside down from the monkey bars at the park with no hands. Today, I want to hang from this pull up bar by using only my legs. When I can do that here, I’ll know I’ll be able to do it there.
He didn’t waste any time getting underneath the pull-up bar. “Let’s go, Mom. You got this.”
I took a deep breath and went for it. I stood up on the weight bench and swung my right leg up and over the bar, then my left. I was holding on with a death grip, so I told myself aloud to simmer down. Tony Joe laughed. I released an audible sigh as I felt his hands spot my upper back.
“Mom, you can let your hands go now, I’ve got you.”
I slowly relaxed my left-hand grip, but then panicked at the unsteady feeling of my left side dangling off the bar. What the heck am I doing? What if….?
Tony Joe clearly picked up on my deep sense of doubt, as he repeated my own words back to me: “Simmer down, now.”
The energy coursing through my legs kept me glued to the bar. Cautiously, I released my right hand, then completely relaxed both my arms. I felt a triumphant surge of freedom come over me as I hung there upside down by my knees. I hadn’t felt this carefree rush since my days as a schoolgirl! All I’d had to do was let go. A moment later I knew the time had come to release my hold when a wave of discomfort moved into the backs of my knees. After Tony Joe helped me down, I told him, “Son, you literally helped me release my grip on fear. I needed your strength to get me to this new height. You made it easy for me to trust you. Thank you for believing in me. I love you.” My process in reaching this plateau had been much greater than its short-lived climax. I had only begun to chip away at this past fear of mine, and I knew I’d need to take the next step in this journey alone.
I found myself driving by the neighborhood park again a few days later. The parallel and monkey bars called to me as if I were clairaudient, we’re over here! Excitedly, I parked my truck on the side of the road and got out. I didn’t care if anyone watched me. Heck, they could join me in my fun if they really wanted to.
I hopped up on to one of the parallel bars. This is like being back in physical therapy, yet it’s completely different. I am able to walk, run, and hop up onto these bars on my own. I had needed the parallel bars, along with my physical therapist, to help me along my healing journey. On the bars today, I knew I first needed to slow my breath. I hung on very tightly by the backs of my legs. Releasing one hand at a time, I quickly realized that the parallel bars weren’t tall enough; my head nearly touched the ground as I hung upside down.
I tried the monkey bars next, but had difficulty getting both my legs wrapped around the top without my weight bench to stand on. I decided to instead try again at home, without assistance. Driving back, I recalled how I’d climbed as easily as a monkey to the top of the steel structure when I was young. During sixth grade I’d loved everything about recess, but if Lisa, one of my best friends, had called to me from the monkey bars, I’d wander toward her before going to kick around a soccer ball.
One day, Lisa enticed me over by calling out to me by my nickname. “Lish, if you can flip like me, you’ll have fun!” She sat atop the highest bar with one leg hooked around, then flipped around it multiple times. Of course I’d wanted to have fun, but since Lisa was wearing pants while I’d sported shorts in the over-100-degree heat, I initially held back, afraid the hot bar would burn the back of my leg. But hearing the ring of Lisa’s spirited laugh as she effortlessly spun around the silver trees of bars inspired me to move from observing to joining her. My three years of scaling bars served me well as I grabbed hold of the open set of bars and hoisted myself up ‘til I was in position for my first flip. I hung on tightly, closed my eyes, and propelled my body forward. Sure enough, I had just the right amount of steam to complete a 360-degree flip, even while wearing shorts. When I tried a second whirl, though, the friction between my bare leg and the bar slowed me down. I took that as my cue to jump off and get grounded. Then I turned and ran over to stand in the tetherball line in hopes of playing a game before the bell rang.
Back then, my body had guided me through muscle memory. I hadn’t had to first think through each agile maneuver before I could climb, wrap my hands around the bar, pull myself up while crunched in half, then extend a leg for the hook. Not like I later had to. Not like now.
As soon as I arrived home, before I changed my mind, I went straight to the pull-up bar in the weight room. Lord, help me to let go of the fear of falling or being injured. Help me tap into the fearlessness I felt when I was young. I stood up on the weight bench and pushed off the steel side with one foot, then hooked my right leg over the top. I was halfway to my dream of being upside down. As I hooked the other leg over the top, it was time to slowly release one arm at a time. I slowed my breath, and then -- I was hanging upside down! I felt empowered in having overcome my fear. Now, I just had to get down without anyone’s help. Happily, my body remembered, probably from when I was a child, how to grip with my hands and flip my legs over my head until I could put my feet flat on the bench below. I’d turned my world upside down, but in a good way.
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I hope you enjoyed this short sample of Apple In My Truck, A Pathway to Inner Peace.
Stay tuned, as next week I”ll bring you another brief excerpt from my upcoming memoir.
To learn more about the Eight-Limb Path of Yoga please read my self-published fictional book, dYnO’s DaNcE, On The Eight-Limb Path.
dYnO’s DaNcE, On The Eight-Limb Path, is an imaginative tale liberally sprinkled with Patañjali’s spiritual teachings. This story offers a great pathway for you to connect with your inner child.
Find your copy online at:
Be A Flower,
Share your Beauty.
Namaste.
Alicia
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