Brains, Memories, Energy, and Menopause

My 40s were absolutely fab. And there are a bunch of reasons that many of us are not having great 50s, including the orange clown entering our lives in 2016 and then the pandemic and more of that circus recently. But apart from all of that, from what I’ve gathered from older women, the 50s can definitely be a rollercoaster ride.

This is your reminder that if you follow me on Facebook and/or Instagram you’ll be getting new, weekly, free experiments.

On average, it’s when full menopause starts. And I say starts because that one year mark is just the beginning. Like our teenage puberty, menopause is really years long. Things take time to settle.

I’ve been noticing energy and brain changes, but what’s really been getting to me is the pit-of-my-stomach, visceral (different than ever before) understanding that I will not, for one example, ever smell my nana’s house again. It really punches me in the gut when I think about it.

I’m not someone who has been living in de-lu-lu land about such things but my 50s have brought them into my consciousness at a new level.

It turns out there’s plenty of reasons for this.

Thank God for the wisdom of Katy Bowman, right? I was lucky enough to meet her and take a workshop with her about basic biomechanics years ago, and I feel like she will always be one of those scientists who brings us gold mined from her own life experience.

As she has been in perimenopause, then, she’s, of course, been figuring shit out.

Like the very likely reason behind our brain fog and how much it’s really about us — in this toxic productivity culture — not listening to and sinking into these new bodies and minds that want to teach us new things. Like paring down. Like cutting back. Like freaking resting now that we are where we are.

Listen to or read the whole podcast here. Really. It’s worth your time. I’m still thinking about it and hoping Katy will write a freaking book.

New free weekly experiments

I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve written. Yoga Teacher Training has just made my summer so much busier and so much more tiring than I could have ever anticipated. As you read this, I will be days away from finishing! YAY!

New free stuff

In the meantime, I’m starting a new weekly share on my Facebook business page and Instagram. If you aren’t connected to me on either of those, maybe go do it so you don’t miss these. I won’t share them on my blog except every so often.

The weekly share will be around the idea of “experiment of one.”

And it will always be something really simple to play with. We want ease in these practices.

Also? We want to build a sense of devotion and not one of powering-through.

Here’s this week’s:

All week long, just notice your sitting habits. Whether at your desk, in front of the TV, in the car... wherever you sit, notice what you typically do.

Then take it another step: notice and change. See if you can find different ways of entering into your seat and different ways of sitting. Challenge yourself to be uncomfortable for a bit.

I would love to hear if you learn anything interesting!

Force versus joyful challenge

A little backstory

You know I started going to Orange Theory because I needed a serious kick in the ass when it came to my commitment/devotion to movement. I needed something outside my usual box. I needed an environment that helped me to do the thing, and Orange Theory covered all the bases.

If I signed up for a class and missed it, it cost me money, so I was always motivated to get out of bed and freaking go. When I got there, the music was fun and I didn’t need to think about anything because the coaches just tell you want to do. It was the perfect blend to keep me working harder than I had in a couple of years.

Let me emphasize this: I did need this to get me moving in the right direction.

And enter: Force

But one of my defaults is to push too hard. I have to watch for it, because it can happen so easily and so suddenly and I can justify it to the moon and back.

Eventually I was going to Orange Theory four times a week. On top of teaching a lot and doing other classes for my Yoga Teacher Training and playing tennis.

I was exhausted all of the time and “couldn’t figure out why.” ((hahahahaha))

I can be slow. ((even bigger laughter))

Eventually I figured it out. I cut my Orange Theory back to twice (and often once) a week. I almost quit altogether but I really do like the community there and have made some friends, and I figure in the winter, I’ll go more.

But that’s not the point of this post.

What’s wrong with force?

Isn’t force just big willpower? Lots of trying? It can be… I guess.

I think force comes into positive play when, for example, I’m deep in depression. If I can manage to force myself to do the things I do not want to do, well, it’s really a sign of hope, right? That kind of force shows that my willpower brain isn’t totally broken yet by the depression and that I am going to be able to drag my ass out of it (yet again).

But often force is just a sort of self inflicted violence.

When we work with force in our bodies, we’re definitely (most often) disconnected from our bodies. They’re a thing that we’re trying to change or contort. A lot of times, movement in this context is pure punishment.

This creates a toxic internal environment on the chemical level.

When we approach change from this kind of force, we’re stressing the nervous system, releasing cortisol, and keeping the body in a dysregulated state.

Change will not come in this state.

Your body is going to work against you, mistaking you for the enemy. Or not mistaking you… because when you’re treating yourself like this, you actually kinda are the enemy.

So what about joyful challenge?

The body knows the difference. Period. Your state of mind is different and so you’re more likely to create the joyful chemical stew in the brain that your body needs for healthy change.

If you approach your movement from a place of play and curiosity and experimentation, you are not working from punishment.

This is the state that regulates the nervous system. It’s from this state, that you’re clear on your motivations and they’re of the healthy variety.

When I’m working with force, my motivations are definitely aesthetic. That’s poison for me.

When I’m working from joy, my motivations are all about my mental health. That is my sweet spot. And most humans’, for that matter.

When we work from joy, compassion, and care, we’re not not challenging ourselves. It just is healthy challenge. It’s sustainable challenge.

The results

Since I’ve recalibrated my movement practices back to joyful and devoted, I already have noticed the kinds of changes I really need:

• I have more energy, of course. Because I’m not killing myself in the name of, again, aesthetics.

• I am getting stronger and more balanced by the day because I have more energy to work harder when I am working. I’m not just dragging myself through my practices and hoping for the end.

• I am happier. This is the big one. This is why I do the work I do — for myself and for others. It’s always been about mental health for me.

I’ve worked really hard to overcome disordered eating and body hatred from my youth but they can still pop up. It takes constant vigilance, and even then, it can be so easy to slip back into old habits.

We teach what we need. I learn that over and over and over.

A bit of radiance

Today I started teaching a fresh online session of morning quickie kundalini, and as I was preparing, it hit me that I wanted to share a tiny reading at the beginning of class.

Then I realized… whoa, I haven’t even wanted to pick a reading for so long, much less read it aloud in class, thanks to the darkness of utter disbelief in anything but the material world that has been plaguing me for the last few years. (I wrote about my sudden release from depression related atheism in the previous post.)

This felt like a big deal… yet another layer of change or another layer of becoming myself again.

And when I was explaining this at the beginning of class, the glee with which long term students reacted to my little announcement confirmed my feeling that we’d all been missing this.

If you’ve been in classes with me, you know I select these randomly by letting the book fall open or having someone yell out a page number.

So here’s the one I read this morning. It’s from this book, which is one of my favorites ever.

Radiance Sutra #61

Adorable one,

Sit or lie down, completely immobile,
Beholding the cloudless sky —
Or if there are clouds, the sky beyond.

As vastness envelops you,
The body vanishes,
Thoughts forget to come.
In this moment,
You are the nature of the great sky.

The reality of commitment and consistency and why most people give up

This photo is from about ten years ago (and my hair is dyed so no, I didn’t go silver that fast).

A lot has happened since I took that photo (I mean… I’m taking it from a mirror which tells you a lot has happened even just with phones… ha).

A lot has happened since I took that photo. That, my beautiful nutbags, is a huge understatement.

Even if we only look at the “pandemic years,” so much has happened.

Above it all, the thing that has stunned me the most and has had the biggest impact on this body and mind:

Deep depression like I thought I would never see again came back, and yet again, ate all of the things that are my healing.

Sure, I continued to teach movement but I wasn’t wholeheartedly engaged. I was mostly going through the motions, which you may or may not have noticed. My depression was obvious in general, but I think when I was teaching, you could almost believe I was okay.

But I wasn’t creating any new methods. I wasn’t reading about movement or watching videos or seeking new movement. Big red flag.

I wasn’t listening to my favorite music when I wasn’t teaching. Big red flag.

And biggest red flag ever: I was only dancing when I was teaching and that wasn’t a lot.

Re-enter commitment

I am not sure exactly when it happened, but at some point in the last year or so, that depression started to lift. I think it had a lot to do with returning to playing tennis.

Which makes sense. The first time I seriously kicked depression out the door was when I started to dance again at the age of 40.

It seems I need some sort of return — specifically (and totally unsurprisingly) — to something physical that I have loved in the past.

I got obsessed with tennis. OBSESSED.

And it broke something open inside of me: my body was relearning commitment.

And finally consistency

But tennis is only during the good weather. (Alas, it’s too expensive around here to belong to a club.)

So I waited for the season to start again and started pretty much from scratch at rebuilding my skills.

But my obsession with tennis eventually led to consistency.

I realized I needed to be doing something more tennis-like (as in INTENSE CARDIO and lots of fast twitch muscle stuff) during the bad weather months, which made me do something I did not want to do: join some sort of gym.

I did this thinking that I would quit once tennis season started because I was only doing it to stay ready for tennis, right?

But surprise! I found the thing that created the consistency on top of the commitment. I found the thing that I am willing to get up early for, that I am willing to push myself into discomfort for, that I will not stop now that it’s summer.

Finding Orange Theory was a literal life saver (if you understand how life threatening serious depression can be).

And not because of the Orange Theory workouts. Not at all.

Finding it was a lifesaver because it supports me to do the things that are my life saving medicines.

Not only am I already, I think, showing signs of being a better tennis player this summer than last (and we’ve only played a handful of times so far), but it’s impacting my dance. It’s given me my strong legs back and my balance and of course my stamina.

And it’s only going to get better.

But here’s what I really want to say to you:

Commitment and Consistency for the Win

It takes time.

I don’t think I’ll really start to see the depths of change I want to see for another few months, and I don’t think I’ll be back to the strength and agility I had in that photo for probably a year.

And this is where most humans fail: once they don’t see the change they want within a short period, they quit. And then they blame whatever they were doing but it’s really the lack of commitment and consistency.

This is a long game, folks. As in, for the rest of your life.

Settle into it. Give into it. It’s the only way.

Intro to Kundalini Workshop

This workshop will take place in 3D in Columbus, OH on Sunday, April 21, from 5 to 7 PM. But I’ll then be taking the material online so keep your eyes open for that. (And this workshop is great whether you’re just starting with Kundalini or want a refresher/deep dive into it.)

If you’re able to be in Columbus, go here to register.

I thought now would be a great time to re-tell the story of me and Kundalini and give you an idea of what a class with me can look like:

The Story of a Magpie Mind

My mind is a magpie, always collecting shiny bits wherever it comes across them, never settling, adding forever to its already full nest. My magpie mind never thinks, “Oh! that’s the perfect amount of shiny! I am done!” Nope. My magpie mind is always in flight, searching.

I used to think that was a bad thing and maybe some of you thought the same or were taught the same about your own magpie minds.

I used to think that was a bad thing, until I realized it’s simply… NOT.

My magpie mind is fucking delightful and my students are better off for it.

I never tire of learning. I never tire of experimenting. I never tire of pushing myself just that little bit more.

Because of this, I’ve always had a hard time describing the yoga I teach. It’s steeped in so many lineages and I pull in from so many teachers and sources that it would be impossible to list them all in one place.

But underneath it all, there is Kundalini yoga — just with a whole bunch of Christine sprinkles, which change from month to month and year to year.

Kundalini Saved My Life and Prepared Me to Return to Dance AND LIFE

That’s not an exaggeration. I was deep into a severe and life threatening and long term cycle of depression and anxiety. My willingness (and I have no idea where that came from!) to try yoga and then to try Kundalini did something magical to my brain.

The focus on breath work and the quick movements of Kundalini — rather than the stationary poses of more “mainstream” yoga — washed my brain in serious amounts of happy chemicals, and yes, that would go away mere hours after practice but it was enough that it stayed in my memory and made me go back again and again. The longer I practiced — over months and years — the longer the effects lasted after each session.

Eventually this all led to my healing experience on the dance floor at a friend’s wedding when I was 40. I would never ever have stepped onto that dance floor again if I hadn’t been prepared by my Kundalini practice.

So what the HECK is Kundalini with Christine?!

In my late 20s, I started where most people start with yoga or thereabouts: Iyengar yoga. From there, though, I quickly dove into many other lineages: Integral, Vinyasa, Kripalu, Ashtanga, Yin, Restorative…and more.

I’ve also taken time to really study breath (pranayama); I have resisted but finally gotten a handle on meditation practices; I am obsessed with mudras; I am equally as obsessed with chanting. (I’m really a natural Bhakti Yogi, if that means anything to you. If not, it means I’m naturally devotional.)

I’ve studied yoga philosophy with one of the most renowned teachers in the West.

And more recently, within the last few years, I’ve dived deeply into Tantra studies, the foundation of Kundalini Yoga.

I’m also certified from Kripalu in YogaDance and YogaDance for Special populations (people with Parkinson’s, etc., and those recovering from cancer). This form is very influential to all of my movement work.

To get a rounder sense of me: everything I have ever studied relative to movement informs my approach to Kundalini.

This includes but is not limited to: Japanese Butoh, modern dance, somatic therapies, trauma and body based psychotherapies, biomechanics, and I’m probably forgetting lots.

So WHAT Does a Class LOOK LIKE?!

That’s a great question because it’s always evolving, but you can bet on a few things happening every time:

First, there’s always a TON of circular movements because that’s what the body loves.

Second, there will be repetitive and very natural feeling movements blended into and with things you more easily recognize as “yoga,” BUT there will always be a way to find all of it in YOUR OWN BODY. I’m extra good at that. ((grin))

Third, there’s a major connection to the breath and a variety of breaths in a way that most of my students say they never experienced before. The breath is actually more important than the movements.

Fourth, you won’t feel like you’ve “exercised” like some yoga classes (though that’s not always bad); instead you’ll feel like you’ve participated in a ritual of healing and joy.

Three basic somatic techniques for nervous system regulation

In a Peony Somatic Dance class, as many of you know from direct experience, the “somatic” aspects are deeply embedded. They’re in the very foundations of the practice. You could say that somatic principles and theories are the very DNA of the work.

You could break down a Peony class into dozens upon dozens of somatic specific techniques, all meant to increase our capacity to hold the reality of our life internally and express that through the body externally.

But there are definitely some basic somatic “exercises” (for lack of a better word) that I include in a variety of ways in almost every class.

And really? We should be doing all three of these every day for even just a minute or so.

Spinning

First up, spinning. Which children are constantly doing. For the pure joy of it. When was the last time you twirled?

If your first response to me is to say that it makes you too dizzy, then you really need it.

You can start by simply walking around ever-tightening circles. You can then progress to super slow spinning and over time increase your speed.

Jumping

This one is always a favorite. And it has so many benefits that the two slides listing the benefits don’t even cover it all.

Again, you don’t have to be able to jump high, and at first, you don’t even have to totally leave the floor.

Shaking

We often combine the shaking with the jumping and together they are exponentially more beneficial in terms of their efficacy to release pent up anger, frustration, fear, and sadness. Add in some yelling and you’e got a potent prescription for freedom

I’ll be covering more and more of these “basics,” and please, feel free to snag the images and share and use them.

(And be sure to follow my Instagram. It’s where I put this stuff first.)

Bodies change...

These two photos are about 9 years apart. The black and white photo is the older photo and the newer photo was taken in the studio where I teach here in Columbus, OH.

I’m 46 in the first one and 55 in the second. Though this has nothing to do with age.

It has to do with time passing, yes, but it has to do with life experiences over that time passing.

During that first photo, I was in the best fitness of my life, and I was on fire with ideas and passion and energy. I hadn’t met Craig; the pandemic hadn’t happened; so much hadn’t happened. And I was in a “flying high” sort of phase of my life. I felt completely healed of any and all mental health challenges. (Yes, I was a bit naive.)

Come to the second photo and those nine years between the two feel more like a few decades. And I’m betting that most of you reading this don’t just understand that but feel much the same about this chunk of time.

My point here is that our physical bodies end up reflecting the life we’ve lived through and our internal landscape. (Stick with me.)

It’s basic cause and effect.

There were dozens of reasons, but over those nine years, I slowly stopped moving as much. I slowly stopped engaging with life in the same joyful way.

It was so very slow… like a titration of making me and my life smaller and smaller. Again, there were a lot of external reasons for this, but those reasons then fed into old internal crap, and eventually the existential depression monster took hold and would not let go.

Until maybe a year ago. And I think it was almost harder this time through than previous times because I felt such a profound sense of loss this time. Before my depression had developed in micro-bits over decades and it felt like that was simply the water I swam in.

When I got healthy, I didn’t realize what healthy could be like. It was so new to me. To have that suddenly snatched away again felt like a cruel joke.

And so with that existential depression, my already diminishing movement practices got pretty much gobbled up. I got to the point where the only time I was moving was when I was teaching. And it was easy when I was teaching to not move in new ways because I was paying attention to others.

You can see the spiral here.

And it’s really the same for most humans. Except that we don’t look to see the connections.

We blame our bad back on our age and not on the fact that we stopped moving very much decades before.

We blame our bad relationship on the other person and not on the fact that we also disengaged and stopped trying.

We hate seeing cause and effect because it leads to responsibility.

Eventually, our bodies will change, and that change will reflect so many little choices along so many years and so many unexpressed and unprocessed griefs and traumas and so many experiences that are uncountable.

The point is to notice and to understand that bodies change is not just a negative statement.

Bodies change. When I took that new photo of myself, it kinda startled me that to make that shape was kinda... difficult. It took a bunch of tries. It was frustrating. I expected to just replicate it the first try and with ease because it’s my damn body.

But bodies change. And I had not really noticed. Even though that’s my work in this world.

Bodies change. And it's often because we've changed how we are in these bodies.

Bodies can change again.

So I'll be adding a LOT more floor play into my movement work. It was a huge part of my practice back then but it hasn't been as much lately so I can't be surprised that my body has changed in this particular way.

When I started to dance again at the age of 40, my body and mind both changed COMPLETELY in nine months. I’m gonna do that again. Starting right now.

Watch me.