franticshanti

Managing Expectations: A Reflection

As I sit at home waiting for the stormy remnants of what used to be Hurricane Hilary to pass by, a bit of reflecting…

There is a saying attributed to Buddha: “The root of all suffering is attachment.”

While there is much that can be and has been written about this, I’d like to bring it down to something very concrete in my life.

It seems so simple, this letting go of our expectations. But we humans are hard-wired not to do that!

One of the wonderful attributes that we as humans have is the ability to plan. Yes, that’s been evidenced in very clever animals, but humans take it to a whole new level.

Where that incredible gift fails us is that in the process of planning, our goals and expectations become very real in our minds, and if they don’t play out as we had anticipated…well, sometimes we don’t deal with the disappointment well.

For instance, in such situations I experience stress and anxiety. Others may react with anger and frustration.

Regardless of the outlet (whether handwringing or yelling), it’s safe to say that the outcome is not pleasant for anyone. And yet letting go is hard when we are really counting on the expectation being realized. Or perhaps even worse, when we get lost in thoughts of how things could have been.

Consider this scenario: let’s say that following a leak in our apartment and subsequent slow repair process, two months later our water-damaged kitchen cabinets haven’t yet been replaced.

But wait, I get word that the cabinets are coming finally coming in this Friday, August 25th and will be installed the following Monday (28th)! Expectation established! And it’s not a small one because most of our kitchen and the entire dining room have been sitting in the living room area for over eight weeks.

Oh, how difficult it is to sit with what’s happening in the present moment — we’re always looking to see what’s up ahead or somewhere in the past. The greatest peace I’ve ever felt is to simply be here.

WOW, do I want this to get fixed! We have a house guest arriving on Wednesday the 30th who is supposed to sleep in the living room. Weeks ago, when she arranged to visit, I was sure that all the repairs to our apartment would have been done long ago. But now, between the cabinet installation and her arrival, I don’t have a lot of time to clear out the mess and get everything back in its place.

I cannot let go of the need for everything to go smoothly. But while I’m struggling with the burden of that need, I’m simultaneously living through the stress of, “oh no, what if it doesn’t work out that way???”

So there you go, a double-whammy. All this because although I know better, I latch on to how I want/need things to be. Either expecting perfect success or total disaster.

Letting go will never be as easy to do as it is to talk about. But in my brightest moments, I am able to step outside the confines of my thinking, move out of myself and get perspective on the present situation, accepting that I cannot predict and shouldn’t expect too deeply. That’s when I experience the highest level of calmness.

And then, as will happen, I forget and sink back into my small, highly personal mind, where I once again cling to having things be a certain way.

Hang On, Honeybee!

A few days ago, I took my daughter to the train station, about a 7-mile drive.

As we pulled out of our driveway, I noticed a honeybee on my side window, close to the middle of the pane. It was a foggy morning so the little girl must have lost her way.

In the past, when I start accelerating and there’s a bug on the glass, the insect takes off (or the wind “encourages” her to take off). But not this little bee. She hung on tightly.

Part of the drive was along a stretch of road with a faster speed limit, reaching over 50mph. I wanted to get my daughter to the train early, so I couldn’t drive much slower. At the same time, I was getting very invested in the bee, still hunkered down and holding on.

My daughter suggested that we take the freeway for part of the trip, but I protested, concerned that the bee’s grip wouldn’t be able to handle the acceleration.

Through faster and slower speeds, my tiny hitchhiker clung hard. Her little wings seemed to be fluttering, battered by the wind, but she was not letting go.

She made it all the way to the train station, holding on like crazy! My tenacious little girl! Then took the opportunity to clean herself up. ❤

And then we finally arrived at the station. My daughter made her train with time to spare and I sat in the lot nearby waiting for it to depart. In the meantime, my little bee had started to preen herself, cleaning up her antennae and straightening the hairs on her legs.

I was so impressed with her ability to hold on!

By this time, the fog had lifted but it was still very cloudy–not proper bee-navigation weather. And I was concerned that if the bee took off from the station, 7 miles from home, she’d never find her way back. I needed to return her to familiar lands!

When we returned home, she sat very still. I held my breath.

Now I was 100% into this. And apparently, so was my little bee. Because in the process of grooming she had edged closer to the frame of the car window. Smart girl, because that meant less air resistance! As I started driving, she expertly tucked her wings together, widened her stance, and…if a bee could give a thumbs up, I’m sure that’s what she’d have done.

On the way home, I drove a little more slowly, trying not to go over 40mph and a lot slower whenever possible. She looked determined to make it.

But when I pulled into our driveway and parked the car, she and I both sat motionless. C’mon, I thought, you’ve made it this far. You’re home. You’ve got to be okay!

Looking more closely it seemed like one of her legs was moving, perhaps twitching a bit. But nothing more.

I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew all was well. At that point, clouds were starting to thin and the outline of the sun becoming visible through them. THE SUN! Coming to the rescue!

My little heroine recovered and immediately took to smoothing her antennae, as if 14-mile journeys were an everyday thing. ❤

Eventually, my little bee started straightening her hairs again, then grooming quite vigorously. The air was warming, the sun was coming out, and my darling girl was getting herself together after taking a battering on the road.

Finally, the sun was bright enough to cast shadows, increasing in strength by the minute. And my bee, stalwart little travel companion, walked up the glass onto the door frame to finish warming up.

One last view of her as the sun was coming out. She was vigorously brushing through her hairs and antennae. Ready to return to her sisters and charm them with stories of where she’d been, what she’d seen and how she’d held on. ❤

I returned to my apartment feeling uplifted by the tenacity of that little creature. She had a purpose and was committed to it. What a beautiful analogy for holding on when we think we can’t go any further, when no one would expect us to keep going. Even then, we manage. Because no matter how bad things seem, the sun will come out and we will find our way home.

“Am I Clenching?”; or “Wait, Where’s My Tree?”

A few days ago I realized that we were missing a tree out in front of our balcony. Not some little sapling that could be easily overlooked, but a tall, mature pine tree that offered us shade during hot summer afternoons.

It was gone, only stumps remaining. I was stunned. After I furiously texted my family for answers (WHERE IS THE TREE???), my husband texted back that it hadn’t been there for weeks, and I hadn’t noticed its disappearance even though I’d been out on the balcony numerous times.

That was weird.

So, you might be wondering what that has to do with this post. Well, it’s easy to cruise through life not being fully aware of what’s going on around us…or in our bodies. Just like I was imaging the tree was still there (while also wondering why the plants on the balcony were drying up much faster this summer), many times I’m also not aware that I’m holding tension in my body.

Perfect example: I had trouble falling asleep a few nights ago. After lying awake in bed for some time, it struck me that I was clenching just about every part of my body. My jaws, neck, shoulders, back, glutes…everything had tightened into knots.

I had been concerned about preparations for a party that we were to attend the next day–and I was aware of that–but all of those worries had passed into my physical being, and that I wasn’t aware of. Good luck trying to get to sleep when you’re as rigid as a board!

So I started a little dance of releasing those muscles, then drifting back to my “normal” state of what can only be described as oblivious unattention, until I noticed that I was still not sleeping and–oh look!–everything was rigid again, so I released my muscles again…

Sometimes I find myself clenching just a teensy bit too tightly…

Yes, I went through the process of relaxing my face, my jaw, my neck…blah blah blah…if you’re a meditator, you know the drill. But a few minutes later, everything had clenched up again without me realizing it.

This went on for a while. When I get caught in a “loop of oblivion” like this, one of the first things I do is stop. Just halt the dance. And take a very deep breath.

That’s the first start in resetting things. Think of it as a much kindler, gentler version of someone slapping you in the face and yelling, “Get it together!”

And that’s when my broader awareness returned and I was able to get out of autopilot mode, acknowledging my mental tension and thereby the physical one. It was a perspective shift because I wasn’t just thinking, “Will we get everything done in time?”

I realized what was actually happening: “All this concern about getting everything done in time is keeping me up.”

That slight shift enabled me to pull back and out of myself, brush off the worries about things I could do nothing about at the moment, and drift off to sleep. But it also reminded me that I need to practice awareness more than I had been. In a sense, I was now more aware of the need to stay even more aware.

Yes, even after years of understanding the importance of mindfulness, I must return to square one and refocus. I don’t think I’ll ever not be restarting, especially not as long as trees keep disappearing from under my nose. But that’s okay…the journey is soothing and the practice itself is a destination. My main task is to not stop practicing.

From a Safe Distance

It’s hard to believe that six years ago I was a week and a half away from my final chemo infusion, in the thick of being a cancer patient with no idea of what tomorrow would bring.

Cancer survivorship used to be a whole lotta “looking over your shoulder” for the next thing to hit.

I also thought that I’d live the rest of my life, however much or little of it there was left, in fear, always looking over my shoulder to see if cancer was close behind. In fact, after my active treatment was over, I expected that my anxiety would increase because I imagined that whatever had triggered my tumor growth would again be unleashed and ready to attack my again.

And when I had to stop aromatase inhibitors early due to side effects, I envisioned even more terror because I wouldn’t have the medication’s protection anymore.

None of this suggested that I would have a very pleasant future. Either I would get cancer again…or I’d be consumed by worry over getting cancer again.

Reality turned out to be quite different.

The more (1) I practiced being present, coupled with the (2) increasing distance between my last dose and today, the easier it has become. Now, that might sound like a no-brainer, but it was news to me.

And I don’t know exactly when I turned the corner on my fear but it was probably after the worst letrozole side effects ceased and I was able to reflect on and accept that cancer happened and now I was moving past it.

It took years to get to that point, but it would have probably come sooner if I hadn’t convinced myself that I’d never get there.

And how are things different now? I don’t think of cancer every minute of every day. And when I do think about it, it doesn’t seem as daunting.

I realized this after meeting a cancer survivor who works at a store that I frequent. She revealed that she’d just received her three-year “all-clear”. The relief on her face was unmistakable.

And it struck me that I used to have that incredible sense of gratitude too. And I still kind of do for a short bit, but it fades quickly as I turn my focus to the rest of my daily responsibilities.

Yes, I am still seeing my oncologist twice a year, having annual 3D mammograms AND the occasional MRI, so it’s less likely that something’s going to sneak up on me. But the concern is no longer as all-encompassing because it doesn’t feel as likely.

Of course, I could be kidding myself. Even after six-plus years I know that every set of scan results is a door to either “no evidence of disease (NED)” or “we’ll get you in to see the oncologist ASAP”. So far I keep going through the NED door…and it keeps opening onto a bright day.

In the midst of taking things for granted, it’s nice to stop and think about that.

Just Because It’s Summer: Flowers [PHOTOS]

Earth laughs in flowers.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

As we slog through extremely high temperatures in many parts of the world, I remind myself of how fortunate I am to be living in a relatively temperate area of the United States that somehow manages to evade the weather extremes faced by other parts of the country.

In this post, I’m celebrating the more pleasant parts of summer, namely the beautiful flowers that proliferate during this time of the year. My camera is an aging iPhone with limited features so my point is simply to showcase the abundance of colorful plantlife that is growing within a relatively small area around the complex where I life, rather than produce art-like photos.

Likewise, the flowers may be “lacking”, perhaps with browning edges or dirty petals or anything else that doesn’t look picture-perfect. But they are very real and a good reminder that there is so much that doesn’t look like it comes from the pages of a glossy magazine, and yet is still worthy of a mindful gaze.

There was a time when I could have rattled off the names of all of these, but while some are still familiar, others I cannot recall. So I’m posting them simply to appreciate for their form. I hope you enjoy!

There is a glossy-leafed magnolia tree blooming outside our window with dinner plate-sized flowers. Its petals are so white that they were blinding my camera and my husband and I had to wrestle the flower into an position where its brightness wouldn’t overwhelm the iPhone.

A rose is a rose is a rose…even when it’s a little rough around the edges.

This plant looks very geranium-like to me but I’m not sure whether it actually is one. Anyone know? The flowers remind me of the peticoatted skirts of dancers kicking up their heels. Bug included at no extra cost.

I know what this flower is and I’m going to remember the name right after I submit this post! I love this image for the fluffy stamens and teeny water drops…and the gracefulness of the blossom.

Another flower whose name escapes me. This looks like a circle of red-dressed ladies holding hands and facing outwards.

I love succulents for their beautiful leaf patterns, very fractal-like and interesting, even when dusted in dirt. Echeveria species, I presume.

Another stunning succulent, a bit chewed up but beautiful in my eyes. Again Echeveria, I expect.

A succulent preparing to flower. Tightly packed buds that look ready to bust open.

Last but not least, a hibiscus. This is one of my favorite flowers — I assure you the photo does not do the colors justice. Unfortunately, this year my plant has been beset by various pests but is producing gorgeous flowers nonetheless.

Sinking into the Depths, but in a Good Way: A Meditation Visualization

As I return to really sinking down into my meditation practice, I am reminded of what I’ve been missing out over the past few months when my practice gradually changed and “shallowed”.

Due to pressures and stressors the start of this year, I had been skittering over the surface of my meditations, much as you would imagine barefoot skiing over the surface of a large body of water, and I use this as a visualization of my experience.

It is *not* fun trying to keep my head up and focused through my distractions.

Up on the surface, you have wind and waves to contend with. The more time that you spend up on top of the water, the more tumultuous distractions you find there and it becomes more difficult to find a sense of calm. The more you do that, the more it becomes habitual.

But when you stop charging across the surface — resisting the enticing attraction of thoughts — then you find yourself slowly sinking…but in a good way. Thrashing winds disappear, sounds become muffled and fade into the distance, movement slows. The deeper you descend, the more quiet you find there.

There are times that I think I’ve been meditating, only to realize that I’ve floated up to the surface and am actually bobbing around in the choppy waves of my thoughts. That realization comes more quickly the more time I’ve spent in the depths, and when I return to the process of sinking, it feels like such a relief.

The deeper I allow myself to descend, the quieter I become. It becomes less of a struggle to stay down.

I can learn to sit with frightening creatures the way I can learn to sit with unsettling thoughts…and vice versa.

And as I get progressively deeper, light dims. Initially, the darkness felt a little intimidating (I’m not a fan of dark water). But then I remembered, this is my ocean. I decide what dwells in the darkness. I can fill my ocean with fearsome, aggressive creatures — and sometimes I do this — but then because I realize that they are mine, they don’t hurt me and I am able to sit with them peacefully.

What an accurate analogy for our thoughts, no?

In this way I feel my own inner strength and power. The darkness does not have to be frightening — it is a gentle darkness that signals rest, allowing my mind to slow and focus inwards.

If that darkness is too disconcerting to you, imagine that there is a soft blue brightness in the water, illuminating your entire area of vision, and perhaps even an underwater staircase you can use to control your descent. Tweak it however you like so that it fits with your level of comfort.

This visualization is the perfect reminder of how good meditation feels when I don’t get in my way about it. Nothing to do but relax and let myself sink down…

Quitting This Stupid Job…and Going Back to Training

For a number of months now, my meditations have been “sub-par”.

I know I’m not supposed to judge, but objectively I’m aware that I’ve veered off course somewhere. In the past, I’d have good days and bad days, transcendent meditation sessions and really distracted, “no-way-I’m-gonna-focus” ones. But that was okay, because a large part of mindfulness meditation is coming back to the breath AFTER losing focus.

Rabbit holes are very enticing places to disappear into.

This has been a little different.

It started with a few weeks of distractibility as I was navigating stressors in the early months of this year. But gradually, things went downhill until I seemed to make it my job to use meditation time to go down rabbit holes.

Maybe I was too tired, meditating in the evening before bed or when I woke in the middle of the night and couldn’t sleep, so I didn’t check my wandering mind because I was dozing off.

If I had music in the background, my mind would dance off in a tangent and I wasn’t meditating anymore, forgetting that this was a time for calm and presence.

I’d get lost during my meditation with little hope of finding my way back on the path that I was on.

So I’d start a guided meditation — listening to someone’s voice would keep me on track, right? Nope. My ability to allow that voice to fade into the background was nothing short of impressive.

Day after day, I had dutifully taken on the task of wandering way off my meditation path until I realized that I was going nowhere and it was time to quit the restlessness and stay still for a while.

Even after years of daily meditations, I had to re-learn the habit of staying… because over the past few months, I’ve established a new habit of not coming back to my center regularly enough. And this new habit of spending my session mindlessly had managed to supplant my previous meditation flow.

So here we go again: setting aside some quiet time when I’m not particularly sleepy, finding an anchor like the breath to focus on in a patient, non-gripping manner, maintaining a gentle awareness of where my mind is, and when it inevitably wanders away from my point of focus (which it always will), calmly guiding it back.

Going back and consciously setting an anchor again. And enjoying that comfortable feeling of being present and aware of this very second.

When the breath seems like a boring place to drop my anchor, I turn to the sensations in my hands and feet (particulary useful when I’m stressed) or the sounds of automobile traffic outside ebbing and flowing or opening my awareness to all my senses and accepting whatever shows up. My focus is on the present and that’s where I aim to keep it.

So it’s true, that old “muscle memory” is bringing back my meditation practice and strengthening it as it does so. This serves as a good reminder to not get complacent, calling myself a “meditator” and throwing around stats like how many days in a row I’ve been meditating. In the end, the important thing is not my meditation streak, it’s the fact that today I will choose to meditate again.

We’ll See What Happens…

As the saga of our building’s leaky pipes continues, this experience reminds me of some of the best advice I received for getting through my cancer treatment.

How could cancer relate to a plumbing emergency? In how I perceived the news and possible outcomes. My cancer diagnosis was terrifying because I had grown up understanding that the disease meant difficult treatment and a real possibility of death. Now that I was dealing with cancer, I was jumping to conclusions, driven by FEAR.

And the leak in our unit? That meant a huge disruption in our lives as workmen enter and our belongings are piled together. But even more so, FEAR of the future, as we didn’t know the extent of the damage and whether we’d be able to to keep living here.

Getting a first glimpse of restoration. Lost some ceiling, light fixtures and a lot of kitchen cabinets.

The thought of moving brought anxiety about higher rental rates, dealing with belongings after nine years in the same apartment, even simply fear of change and uncertainty.

But that best bit of advice that I mentioned above? I found that it applied well to this situation also. And it goes like this: don’t try to tackle everything at once; take it bit by bit.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, the experience was nothing if not overwhelming. So many new terms, treatment options, possible outcomes. It was too much to handle. Someone I worked with suggested that I deal with things on a day to day basis. Not obsessing about the future, only what I needed to get through for today.

This was not easy for me, as being FEARful came naturally to me. But I understood what he was saying, even if I struggled to actually follow this advice at the time.

As with cancer, so with plumbing. My mind had already “gone there”, struggling to afford another unit (this is an older unit with rent lower than other places around us), staying up day and night to pack. Ending up in an even worse situation with inconsiderate neighbors…

But reality was not like that.

Behold, the FORCE AIR 2000EC! This monstrosity is the heart of the asbestos abatement operation. The workmen couldn’t fit it back in their truck so we’re babysitting it for a couple of days. Also, it looks like it was built by orks, but that has nothing to do with anything.

Within a weekend we had moved much of the kitchen and dining area. And really overhauled our possessions — even something as complicated as draining our 20-gallon fishtank and relocating its inhabitants to my husband’s office was not as difficult as anticipated.

I had time. I had time to move things, I had time to reorganize, to declutter, to stop and think about what was next. I had time because it wasn’t all happening at once. Stopping and breathing and noticing all the space around gave me space inside my head.

Discussions with our landlady suggested that we would take it one day at a time. No one was throwing in the towel yet…

…and even if the worst case scenario happened and we had to move, there were other places that were available (all with air conditioning, which we don’t currently have), and the rental cost would have been similar to what we pay now. In some cases the places were newer and most allowed pets (!), which I’ve been longing for.

All of a sudden, things didn’t look that bad. The options seemed promising.

Taking it bit by bit gave back a sense of control. All those fears slowly fell away.

And now, I find myself hovering with acceptance. Not landing on an expectation that THIS or THAT will happen. I don’t know what will happen and I’m finding a comfortable place to simply hang here, not gripping or holding on or needing for anything to be different.

We’ll see what happens…

Lightening Your Mood By Letting Go

Quite a lot has happened here in less than a week and it deserves a bit of an introduction.

It started with a leak last Wednesday. Water dripping from a ceiling fan…which isn’t supposed to happen! I got the upstairs neighbors to check their plumbing — their carpet was wet. And it got worse from there as plumbers found several gallons of standing water contained within the studs in the floor above us, coming from cracks in our neighbors’ kitchen drain pipe, now starting to overflow those confines.

Yeah…I’m pretty sure this is not a good thing.

That water was searching for low points…which happened to be overhead electrical spaces in our unit: ceiling fan in the dining area, wires coming through our kitchen cabinets, even the overhead kitchen light. Soaking the ceiling as it traveled.

We live in an old-ish building with old-ish pipes that are showing their age. We have had quite a bit of water damage and leaks already, some of which required strict restoration measures since there is asbestos(!) in the ceilings. The current incident is no different except that this time the repairs will be more extensive due to both the asbestos and growing mold, requiring the removal of kitchen cabinets, some carpeting and lots of ceiling.

When things like this happen, the HOA’s insurance covers all issues from the walls into the interwall spaces and the homeowners’ insurance covers everything inside the unit. As risk-averse renters we have our own insurance to protect our belongings, but we are not the owners of this unit. Regrettably, our owner did not have the unit insured. This poses uncertainties that we have yet to address.

This part of the ceiling has been marked for removal…

First things first, however: a restoration company marked out the spaces that were wet and from which we needed to clean everything out. We spent all weekend doing so. And that brings me to the point of this post.

When you have a lot of stuff, it’s easy to keep holding onto it because there’s no real impetus to get rid of it. And even if you try, it’s too easy to talk yourself into not letting go. If you get rid of it and then have to repurchase, that’s like twice the cost, right?

Except that I’ve come to believe that space = money. There’s so much that we have that we’re not really using. Maybe it was on sale, maybe it was something you needed one time, maybe you decided to splurge. But if these things are taking up space unnecessarily, they are costing you. I know they take an expensive toll on me in terms of headspace, making cleaning more difficult and our living area less inviting.

So this weekend was about purging. And wow did we PURGE. It felt amazing.

…as do the cabinets and ceiling in our galley kitchen.

Old glassware, shopping lists, aged spices, an extra bathroom scale (from a time long ago when we have two bathrooms), chipped plates, dollar store containers, plastic utensils, old computer cables, and the list went on. We emptied the 20-gallon fishtank, relocated its few inhabitants to the aquarium my husband has at his office, and realized that we could probably get rid of the cart that the tank sat on too.

There was so much that we’d been holding on to that simply was not necessary to have. And the more we got rid of, the lighter I felt. Buoyed by the sensation, I started going into areas not marked for restoration and getting rid of unneeded items, because I believe a big change is imminent. Something has been put into motion that will require big decisions and big action.

So in the midst of having the majority of our kitchen items and the entirety of our dining room stacked up in the living room area, I should be stressed out. But I’m floating in quiet acceptance, staying present and reveling in the lightness. I never expected to feel like this, so positive. Maybe it’s because all those things we held on to were weighing us down?

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This saga will continue…

Ushering in Summer with a Gentle Attitude

With the upcoming longest day of the year on June 21st, many yogis celebrate the Summer Solstice by performing 108 repetitions of the series of movements known as a Sun Salutation, or Surya Namaskar in Sanskrit.

Why 108? The number 108 is significant in a number of dharmic traditions, including Hinduism, Jainism, Buddhism and Sikhism, and appears many times in sacred ancient texts (see more info at sites such as himalayanyogainstitute.com, yogajournal.com, hinduamerican.org).

Practicing 108 Sun Salutations traditionally has been done during the changing of the seasons to usher in the new phase of the year by generating an internal heat for purification (stoked by the energy of the movements), cultivating a will that pushes the practitioner forward and breaking through mental and physical barriers (youaligned.com).

sun-salutation-a_franticshanti Download

Prior to getting cancer, I would have reveled in the challenge of 108 Sun Salutations. My body was ready to go hard and fast and have everything be perfect. Today, I approach such practices more mindfully, so this post is about a more forgiving alternative to churning through so many Sun Salutations.

This is because high repetitions of these movements are not for everyone, and even otherwise fit people may begin having wrist, shoulder and back issues as they move through the repeats. Proper preparation is essential in avoiding injuries. My own body protests high volumes of some movements so I accept my limitations, reset my expectations and opt for gentler variations.

Does participating in this tradition interest you but you find the high number daunting? Don’t insist on doing all 108 repetitions; set out to do one. And if that flows well, do another. Feel into your body from the very first sequence to the very last one you do, no matter the number.

However, if it helps, set a repetition goal for yourself — keeping in the spirit of the practice, let it be a factor of 108 as there many ways to evenly divide this number: 9, 18, 27, 54 — but don’t make that goal your sole purpose. Instead, keep your attention on your breath and the flow of your body.

This is a meaningful sequence to immerse yourself in as you cycle through the movements.

Avoid worrying about how you look, wondering whether you’re “beating” the pace of others, thinking about what you’re going to do afterwards or how many calories you burned. I would argue that a single Sun Salutation done consciously, appreciating the connection between the ancient origins of the sequence and the present day, is more valuable than 108 repetitions done with your mind elsewhere, focused only on the achievement.

For this practice, send your ego off to wait patiently by itself until you’re done.

IMPORTANT: For this post, I am focusing on the mindful and spiritual benefits of Sun Salutations. It is true that there is the purely physical practice of the sequence, a full-body exercise that has benefits in its own right. If you are more interested in treating this as a workout rather than a symbolic detoxification as you transition to the next season of the year, I’m the last person to try to talk you out of it. But be aware that this is a very sacred practice for some; I encourage you to pause and approach it with respect.

Whatever number you end on, let that be the right number for you, no judgments. This is a beautiful way to add meaning to your yoga practice and nurture a connectedness to everyone else engaged in this tradition.

The next change of seasons, the Autumnal Equinox, is only three months away…

Perhaps this Solstice’s Sun Salutations will lead to a mindful daily practice of Surya Namaskar. This may blossom into the next opportunity to join everyone in the tradition for the Autumn and welcome in a season full of new possibilities…and maybe even the full 108 repetitions.

But for now, start with just one.

For a beginner-friendly version of Surya Namaskar, try the version below:

sun-salutation-a_beginner-variation_franticshanti Download