Friend or Foe
posted by Stephanie Ritchie on 8/27/2008 3:30:09 PM

Dilemma:

If someone gets up in your face and pushes you to your limit, calls you names, and lobs irreverent defamations at you, telling you your many faults and they are, say, being paid to train you, or you are in boot camp, then you wipe the sweat and tears from your maggotty face and say, "Sir, thank you, Sir."

If howevaaaah, you have not paid nor enlisted to receive such enticements to become a better human being, and you get your inventory taken, then what do you do?

Do you:

a) thank them for their free services rendered; cancel next shrink appt
b) poke them in the eye with a sharp stick; brag about it to friends later over cocktails
c) undertake deeper meditation on human suffering; perfect your warrior pose
d) walk slowly back to your car, get in, turn the Annie Lennox way up high and bawl your eyes out

Yes, I had a hard time deciding myself....

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Shoulding on Myself
posted by Stephanie Ritchie on 8/25/2008 10:00:40 PM

I have looked this word up at www.dictionary.com.

I have never liked this word very much.

It's a lot like shall, only with more duty, necessity, obligation, even guilt perhaps.

I should do more of this, less of that. I should be something, someone slightly other than I actually am.

Whew, how old do you have to be to get OK with who, what you really are? What kind of spectacles does one need to see what really IS, instead of what you wish were so?

My husband and I are, well, particular people. We like some things just the way we like them. We regularly get caught up in details as if they were biggies. Right now we happen to know some people who are REALLY going through some biggies, and it makes our little stuff stand out as just that: little stuff. Man, I'm blessed. I breathe it in; I breathe it out. I try to get the message deep down into my bones.

No need to should on each other. No need to should on ourselves. It is mostly little stuff after all.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Tags: Shoulding on Myself
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Slow Down Already
posted by Stephanie Ritchie on 8/18/2008 8:44:11 PM

Here's what happens: I start a yoga DVD, roll out the mat, settle in, get about 3 or 4 poses into it, realize I need to stretch before I stretch and inevitably devolve into a series of loosely yoga-like postures that just plain feel good. Right now, I'm cool with that.

I empathize with John Pinette who said he likes Starbucks coffee, but he has to stop on the way there and get a coffee so he can stand in line for coffee.

Even when I go to class I want to just stop in the midst of some pose and hang out there until my muscles release, until I get the position adjusted, until I feel like I won't fall over. But nooooo, BLAM, onto the next asana. KaPlowie! Shazam! Get up, get down, turn around, downward dog, kiss your elbow, kiss your ass, lunge forward, downward dog...hup two three four, hup two three...

Puhleeze.

Tags: Yoga schmoga
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The Yoga of Fridays
posted by Stephanie Ritchie on 8/15/2008 4:30:06 PM

Ahhh, Friday...

One might think I look forward to the weekends on account of the extravagant good time I plan to have. While I do plan to have some grown up time this Saturday night, that is not the chief reason for my Friday merriment. Real reason I get stoked on Fridays: privacy.

Much of the EY business happens in our home. What once occupied a considerable warehouse now resides in three rooms of my house and the garage. Monday through Friday this is a comedy-rich working environment for some of the nicest gals I could hope to share my toilet seats with.

As I gradually come out of the fog that is new motherhood, I am realizing that there isn't much about me left to the girls' imaginations. They've seen my worst pajamas, bed head, breastfeeding, and "Oops, I didn't know you were here already!"

So, on the weekends I can let it all hang out without the pressure of an audience.

Tangent:

Truth be told *pause to look over both shoulders* I credit the presence of these sweet, considerate, unobtrusive people to some degree for the conspicuous absence of any post partum depression on my part. There is much to be said for getting up in the morning, brushing the fur off your teeth, and making even a feeble attempt to look human because you know people are going to SEE YOU. It goes a long way toward actually being human. Yes, especially when you don't feel human. And before you go all pious because you are above caring what other people think of you, I'm really talking more about dignity than vanity.

The other credit for me not having baby blues must go to (no, yoga is not on the list):

1) my Scottish-Irish resiliency: we're simply too stubborn to know when we ought to feel sorry for ourselves; thank you Mom & Dad

2) my loving husband for being the kind of Baby Daddy who knows when to call the massage therapist. Let this one example suffice as the abstract for what is a very long list of his anti-depressive behaviors and actions for me during and after my pregnancy; Thanks, Babeee.

Tags: Self Aware?
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When Ahimsa is Easy
posted by Stephanie Ritchie on 8/12/2008 9:50:40 PM

Look, living ahimsa is not always easy, convenient, or satisfying. To me, that is, I speak for myself only. I drive a car. I buy products that come in too much packaging. I eat steak. And before I start bragging about how my steak is OK because it is venison steak, let me just get on with my little story.

Yesterday my husband brought home a baby gopher tortoise he had found in the middle of a busy in-town street. Its carapace was 2-3 inches long. Couldn't be more than a few weeks old. Its sweet wrinkly skin was a bright yellow. Its eyes were like tiny lustrous black beads. Cutest of all were its little gopher-like claws. How in the sam hell any gopher tortoises are surviving and breeding just off one of Pensacola's busiest streets is beyond me.

My husband knows I have a soft spot for animals that get themselves into the predicament of mistaking a paved road for a good place to travel. We kept the gopher tortoise in a box overnight and this afternoon we drove an hour north of town to the kind of scenery a tortoise would be proud to call home. Open pasture meeting mixed hardwoods bordering long leaf pine. A rural location, dear to my husband's heart, where his great grandad (and my son's namesake) used to have a homestead. There we unceremoniously released said baby reptile into yon wilderness to live a long, burrowing life.

Read in voice of credit card commercial guy:

Relocating baby gopher tortoise to a safe habitat: two hours of driving; 5 gallons of gas; one stop to nurse a teething baby; large order of fries; eleventy one rounds of "Shoefly, don't bother me."

Great big dose of juicy, non-harming goodness: priceless.

Tags: Yamas
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Stretched Thin
posted by Stephanie Ritchie on 8/11/2008 1:18:33 PM

Yesterday and today became one long day around 4am this morning. I realized this as I was stretched out on the living room floor in matsyasana, coaxing my back to unfurl from its hunched status after several hours of holding, cradling, bouncing, carrying, nursing, and diapering my baby child. He was in a state of pootyama for many, many hours. Betwixt and between his anguished spells of intestinal discomfort he practiced his new cooing technique. Were it not for this intermitent sweetness, I would not have made it through the night with my sanity.

How is it that we make it through our toughest times? How is it that we rebound from being stretched thin. And how is it that sometimes, sometimes we are able to bring forth our personal best during these moments?

My thinking is The Well must be full. No one can go for long on empty. You've got to have something in the bank in order to make a rightful withdrawal. Though I am short on sleep right now, I am good on all the other basics. If I had other survival-level needs going unmet, well, I don't think my son would be getting my best at 4am.

Tags: Fill the Well
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Whirled Peas
posted by Stephanie Ritchie on 8/7/2008 8:30:04 PM

Remember those bumper stickers? "Envision Whirled Peas."

Speaking of world peace, I have just learned about the "Songs for Tibet" CD.

"Sting, Alanis Morissette, Dave Mathews, John Mayer, Moby and more than a dozen other top artists have come together to create the historic album, 'SONGS FOR TIBET - THE ART OF PEACE', which is a heartfelt celebration of the Dalai Lama & Tibet. With Tibet's existence and culture threatened by the Chinese government, this album is a vital message of support. Album proceeds will be used to fund peace initiatives and Tibetan cultural preservation projects important to the Dalai Lama. The album's popularity will send Beijing a message that the world supports basic human rights and fundamental freedoms for the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan people."

So saith Michael Wohl, Executive Director of The Art of Peace Foundation. 

WTF do I know about Tibet? I know that they are low on the food chain in their neck of the woods. Can you really imagine for a moment what it must be like to see your culture disappear right before your very eyes? Pummeled by the very entity claiming to protect you. Sounds like a domestic violence scenario: having the crap beat out of you, being trapped, being threatened, and then asked to clean yourself up so you look pretty.

There is one of those trendy videos of people talking to the camera on Youtube if you need some motivation to get involved.  The CD isn't available until Aug 12th, but Burton and I pre-bought our copy last night.

Tags: Shameless Propagandizing
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Low Expectations
posted by Stephanie Ritchie on 8/6/2008 9:37:12 PM

I told my husband that I'm not sure about this blog business. My seedling yoga practice is having a hard time growing roots and I feel a bit like a poser. He tried to reassure me by saying (again) that he asked me to blog my EY experience, not to become an instant yogini. But most of all not to become an instant fake yogini.

Ahhh, the joy of low expectations. Now we're talking. Something I might actually be able to keep up.

Before you read down your nose at me, judging my lack of ambition (or your own) let me remind you that for 5 months now a good night's sleep for me is 5-6 hours. An average night is 4. Four non-contiguous hours of light sleep. Sleep so light I can hear frogs fart outside the window. Sleep so light that the other night, I awoke on the couch thinking I could hear water dripping at regular intervals. I got up to investigate. Like the Zombie I am, I shuffled glassy-eyed through the living room and into the kitchen toward the sound. The closer I got to the noise, the more crazed and twisted my face became in anticipation of reaching the source. Would I find the sink leaking? The washer? The refrigerator? I stood at the far kitchen wall where the sound was loudest. I looked all around but no water. Casting my eyes upward I finally rested my wild gaze on the source of the "noise" that awakened me from my so called sleep. The clock. I sleep so lightly I can hear a clock ticking in the next room.

This is mommy ear. Either that or I have gone batshit crazy.

Tags: Blaaaaaaaag
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Heeeeead, shoulders, knees, and toes...
posted by Stephanie Ritchie on 7/31/2008 11:57:40 AM

Ray Lynch? Deva Premal? Nooooo. I breathe deeply and stretch into dem bones o' mine to the melodious sounds of *drum roll please* my son's "Sing & Play" with such favored messages as "merrily, merrily, life is but a dream." Oh, ye Unbeliever, do not underestimate the healing power of lines like "I feel like a morning star." It really packs a whallop on the heart chakra when the whole EY crew, my husband, the babysitter, and myself are singing in unison, each of our faces aglow with a bizarre sort of Stepford Wife look. Almost everyday one of us walks down the hall asking aloud, "What does that mean? I feel like a morning star? How does a morning star feel exactly? What does it mean, what does it mean, what does it..."

This is the current mantra of my household; this is how we roll--like a bleepin' morning star. Hey, hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it.

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A Lesson in Yamas
posted by Stephanie Ritchie on 7/28/2008 9:37:45 PM

This weekend a dear friend came to visit me with her 4 year old daughter. This friend has been doing yoga for umpteen years, before it seemed to be the franchised pastime of the hip and haughty. Naturally I expected us to do a little yoga together.

Going to regional and national yoga conferences with my husband, I have become accustomed to yoga people showing off what they can do. Not having spent very much time around my dear friend lately, I expected her to do the same. You know, asanas from a seasoned yogini to a novice...

No dice.

We spent the whole weekend talking, hardly leaving the house. She came here to see how I am coping, to meet my new son, and to share some motherhood insights about not giving a shit what other people think.

I couldn't even tempt her with swag from the EY storerooms. How refreshing. Thank you, Susan.

Tags: Yamas
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The thraaaaack of tall timber slowly splintering...
posted by Stephanie Ritchie on 7/23/2008 9:25:51 PM

I am tired deep in my bones from so many months with so little rest. So naturally, my favorite yoga pose is that which most resembles the sublime posture of sleep. I fondly refer to this as sleepvasana. Yoga is not so bad.

Ok, yoga is bad. I turn my torso in the spinal twists and expect to hear coming from my own flesh the thraaaaack of tall timber slowly splintering under hurricane force winds. Is this what old feels like?

Don't be fooled, of course it is because I agreed to do this blog that I will submit to yoga again tomorrow! Accountability is the best exercise program on the planet.

Tags: Sleepvasana
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Very Divided Attention
posted by Stephanie Ritchie on 7/22/2008 4:37:23 PM

"A pretty good job done today is better than a perfect job done tomorrow."

With this in mind, I did yoga. I did it on the floor of my son's room with him on the play gym thingy next to me. His 4 month old mind was meditating on the plastic black-n-white kitty that meows a rather tortured-sounding electronic tune when he slaps its bottom. I was meditating on my hamstring where it attaches to the ischial tuberosity. It turns out that when seated on the floor I can still get my legs stretched out flat, toes reaching upward. For about 5 excruciating seconds. Dammit, Man!

Tags: Yoga Schmoga
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