Despair and joy and exhaustion and curiosity

Dancer: Rachel VanDyne

I’m feeling a lot right now, but it’s all rather paradoxical. As I teach in the Peony Method, we can and must hold these paradoxes.

There’s no either/or in our existence or in our emotional lives. When we want to either/or ourselves like that, I guarantee it’s a sort of emotional bypassing — a desire to feel just “good” and push away more difficult things.

Because it’s always both. Always. We can feel good but we also feel like the world is falling apart. We can feel sad but the kitten is making us laugh.

Right now, I’m feeling both joy and curiosity about a bunch of things, including, of course, tennis and slow jogging. Both of which are definitely at the obsession and special interest level which makes not only my body happy but also my brain.

Right now, I’m also feeling despair and exhaustion. For more reasons than I care to articulate but for one tiny example…

I just watched a (“whyte spiritual”) woman on TikTok try to say that Kanye West’s blatant and violent antisemitism is really his Christ enlightenment shining through and he’s trying to elevate all of us. (WHAT the actual FUCK?)

That makes me, first, want to vomit (for real… it made me sick) and second, to start lecturing everyone about the pre-Holocaust days in Germany but it also makes me want to just shut down.

Despair and exhaustion are dangerously enticing for us, aren’t they?

As a GenXer in particular, it’s easy for me to roll my eyes and say whatever to almost anything. I think that’s true for a lot of us.

We learned to survive via a certain kind of apathy. (Which wasn’t really real. We care almost TOO deeply and have felt so powerless that we decided to pretend not to care.)

As I write this, I am thinking through this. I don’t have answers. I don’t have any sense of a pathway out of this.

I have only some… inklings.

First, I trust Mr. Merton there in that quote. His conclusions didn’t come from some idealistic monastic life. He lived through very difficult times historically. He was someone who was constantly questioning all ideas and even more so himself. He dug deep and he traveled wide, always open to wisdom coming from anywhere. He was a student of many Eastern philosophies, and though he remained Catholic, all of that informed his utterly mystical views of life.

All that’s to say, I think he was onto something with this hope thing.

But second, notice his language.

This is not some esoteric or ethereal hope.

This is active hope. Aggressive hope.

And it’s not just abstract hope. It’s concrete hope as acted through our very concrete human bodies.

Which brings me to this thing that’s been floating around on my front page and in my hashtags for quite some time and in my brain for even longer — what I call the Re/Joy Project.

I have notes upon notes upon notes about this concept but the other day I said something somewhere that gave me the piece that I think we need right now.

What would happen if you were simply, day to day, moving through life with a curiosity about joy?

I think that phrase — curiosity about joy — takes away pressure and replaces it with some sense of breathing space and freedom.

But I think it matches Merton’s “trampling down with hope.”

They’re both active.

Curiosity about joy says that joy is not some magical thinking way of living waiting for you to just stumble upon it or suddenly feel it or that joy is perhaps just for the “lucky.”

It says you need to go out and purposefully investigate. Search for clues. Pay attention. Always have your notebook and tools at the ready.

I’ll be writing about more ways to do this but for now I’m planting the seed.

Acknowledge and make space for all the sad and the despair and the fear and the anxiety and the anger but don’t forget this other stuff too.

I hate running so why am I doing it?

I’m not. I’m not technically running. I’m slow jogging, which is a very different thing.

But first… WHY? I’ve been uber clear about how much I hate running. It just doesn’t feel good in my body. But a couple of years ago, I think it was that long, I heard about this concept of slow jogging and I watched a video and thought it made sense. Still… wasn’t interested.

Then along comes tennis and one of my biggest issues is my legs aren’t fast enough. (My cardio also sucked the first couple of times but that improved quickly.)

I knew I needed something to support not just my tennis but the things I envision for my dance work in the coming years.

So the other day, I was on my desk treadmill and some good music was playing and I wanted to go faster but I was barefoot. I turned up my speed and found myself very naturally… slow jogging.

I looked up more videos, and yep, my body, in bare feet at just the right speed, had naturally done the technique correctly.

You keep everything low like walking, back straight up, land on the balls of your feet, and don’t try to kick the ground away.

You should be able to talk or sing quite easily or you’re going too fast.

There are a ton of benefits but just a few to start:

1. This is super kind to your joints. Unlike with full out jogging/running, you’re very unlikely to injure yourself.

2. It still gives you all the aerobic advantages while also…

3. Preparing you to go faster (if that’s a goal).

4. And for women in peri/menopause, this is great for our freaking hormones and metabolism.

Right now I’m starting small and easy, only going for about ten minutes at a time on my treadmill in bare feet.

Over time, I’ll add longer bits, but this is perfection. I FEEL FANTASTIC after but don’t feel gross or out of breath. It’s the perfect balance of ease and challenge!

Here’s a video about all of this, but even just watching the beginning (wait until the woman in pink joins him), you’ll see the technique pretty clearly.

Another way to get going is to do one minute of this, then one minute of walking, and so on. (Slow jogging intervals.)

Tennis came to teach me all the things I have been forgetting

My favorite tennis partner

Where to begin… I haven’t played tennis since my late 20s and now I’m 53.

When Craig and I were first dating, he used to say to me that he thought it would be fun if we could be a runner couple. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

No.

If you know me well enough, you are laughing along with me. I hate running. I did a running experiment for a while and I accomplished my goal — to run a straight mile without stopping or feeling like I was going to die — and then I stopped. Just like that. Because like I said, I hate running.

But that said, I understood what he wanted: something we could do together. Beyond going to the gym or practicing pilates at home. Something more… engaging.

So he started asking me to play tennis, knowing I had played when I was younger. I had been thinking about it for quite some time before I even met him, but I always decided no because dance was(is) my life and I thought, why do something during which I could get injured and be limited in my dancing?

But then I had two frozen shoulders over the course of the last year or so. Due to no sudden injury. They just… happened (which they can). I got shots but not surgery and I worked my ass off by myself with not PT besides my own PT to get my shoulders back in working order.

Every. Single. Day.

One is 100% better and the other lingers around 95% (but I know that will also get to 100).

And then suddenly, one morning not too long ago, I announced to him out of the blue that we would be buying rackets that day. (This is often how I function. Seemingly suddenly but there’s been a lot going on in the background.)

I have loved the sport of tennis since I was a tiny girl, sitting just outside the fence, watching her father play. (He was truly gifted. For real.) I would sit with the big red thermos (you probably had one like it), and just watch … for hours.

When I got to be about 8, I think, he would then let me hit a few balls when he was done, and so it started.

I got on the boys’ tennis team in high school because there was no girls’ team and so they had to let me try out and I succeeded. But I never got as good as I could have because I didn’t work hard. I half assed. (That’s another and longer story.)

Around the age of 23, I was playing tennis at a court at Penn State Behrend and the tennis coach got all excited, thinking I was a student, and telling me he could probably get me some scholarship money. He had seen me rush the net and play hard, something that was rare for him to see in those days from a female player.

Alas, I was no longer a student but the memory is a loved one, for sure.

Fast forward to about a month ago, we got our rackets, and got home late, so we waited until the next day to go play.

I was so freaking nervous. I have serious public performance anxiety with everything BUT dance. I hate people seeing me struggle. (Another long story right there.)

I told him, “If there are a lot of people already playing, I’m not playing. You can just practice serving.” He was okay with that.

There were a lot of people playing. But I got on the court and the second I bounced the ball, I was in it.

And I kinda sucked. OF COURSE I DID. It’s been about 25 years. But I also kinda… didn’t.

We play about three times a week and here’s the point of this long blog… I am relearning all the things that dance taught me at the age of 40.

First, play is the most important thing we can do for our mental health. Do something you love but here’s the kicker… do something that makes you LAUGH. I LAUGH a lot on the court.

But also? Do something that you love that brings out your inner “warrior.” I growl and yell on the court just as much as I laugh. Guess what? I am having just as much fun whichever I am doing.

Second, when I am moving on the tennis court, there is NOTHING ELSE IN MY WORLD. And in those moments, I am ABSOLUTELY FREE.

Dance taught me that at 40 and I was a bit shocked when I realized that tennis was teaching me the same lesson. Again, do the things you love… the physical things… because it is this level of embodiment that brings us into a state of total alignment with ourselves and this life.

Third, I am built to move. So are you. So are all of us. But I am really really built to move. I mean, there is no depression, no anxiety, no anything but the true me when I am moving. (Again, same for you. You just need to find right things.)

Fourth, I love life when and after I move. Because we are bags of chemicals and movement stirs up all the good ones.

I’m sure there’s more but that’s enough for now.

Go play! Now!

Why Slow?

““The times are urgent; let us slow down.””

— — Bayo Akomolafe

When we practice slow in the Peony Method, it's not just to practice being physically slow. Though it is that to some degree, as slower physical practices are, truly, more challenging.

Why? To start, you can’t “cheat” with momentum. Going slowly, you’ll also feel more — including if you’re pushing past a limit of some sort that could lead to injury.

You’re also able to observe your body’s strengths and deficiencies more closely.

If you DO have an injury, you can take your time working around it… flirting with its edges, deciding what to work with and what to let rest.

Slow practices also allow more focus on good breath work but also on different types of breath work. (If you’ve been in my classes, one example would be when we only move during suspended inhales or exhales.)

But beyond all of this (and I’ve really only started to touch on the physical advantages of slow), the slow in the Peony Method is about the emotional/mental/spiritual aspects of your BodyMind.

We hear our body’s messages more clearly. We hear where things might be stuck — whether old trauma, recent grief, or any emotion that is in need of your attention. It’s all in the body, of course.

We hear our heart's truth better when we slow down. The heart can speak in whispers and our busy, chaotic world is often too much for it.

We hear/feel our connections when we’re slower — whether to ourselves, our wiser self, something bigger, each other.

Truth, wisdom, the next move, the right idea… it all has the space it needs to arise and get your attention when we’re moving slowly.

This is not to say that faster movement doesn’t have its own set of pros. But our culture — including our movement culture — prizes FASTER, BIGGER, BETTER.

The Peony Method is the antidote to all of that.

SPECIAL! Four week, 70 minute Kundalini Plus session!

It’s that time again!

Reminders:

• you can participate live or you can just use the videos which are available the following day

• you can participate live AND use the videos all you want because they stay up for all four weeks

• there is a music list that you can use or not

• it’s easier to have music on one device and your video on another

• you’ll all be muted and my music will be on earbuds

• times are Eastern United States

• we meet on zoom

If you’ve never experienced Kundalini Plus as taught by me, go read over here for more information.

I’m calling it Kundalini Plus, because one, as I’ve written about over here, I don’t want to say I’m teaching yoga any more. And two, if you know me, you know I never teach straight up any system. I mix stuff together and see what happens.

So this class will be lots of circular movements and natural movements and tons of breath work and just that deep sense of shared ritual that we’ve all come to love.

You’ll be guided the entire hour, so if you’re not into free movement, there isn’t any.

DAY and TIME: Sundays, 5:30 to 6:40 PM (class “opens” at 5:25)
DATES: October 2, 9, 23, and 30 (no class on the 16th because I’m traveling)
COST: $75 (if this is an issue, please never hesitate to say so and we’ll work something out)

The Scent of the Past

Me with Nana and Pap in Florida

When we’re little, adults often tell us how much we will miss certain people or times when they are gone, and of course, we can’t possibly understand what they mean even when we are a tad bit more introspective than the average child.

We just can’t.

Until we do.

And then it’s heartbreaking.

There are moments in the last few years in particular (is it something about turning 50?) that it hits me (really HITS me) that I will never see or be around my nana, for example, ever again. That that was it. I can’t sit with these feelings for very long. They could easily become overwhelming in a negative way.

For me, a lot of these realizations come with a deep desire to smell something again. Weird, right? But then so much of our memory is tied to smell.

My Great Aunt Ardelle’s house smelled a very specific way. When I used to have a bricks and mortar studio in Erie, it was mere feet from where her house once stood, and once in a while, that scent would be on the wind. It would take my breath away — the flood of memory and the longing.

My papa smelled of fresh cut wood and coffee made in a percolator. My nana smelled of bread, sticky buns, fresh squeezed orange juice, and too many others to list. Together they smelled of Florida to me (even though they lived in Erie for a very long time) and sometimes the weather even in Ohio will make me say to Craig, “It smells like Florida after a brief rain…” and he says, Huh, not really understanding.

My grandmother on the other side smelled of church basements and gladiolas and a scent I can’t name that floated around anything she sewed.

Back to my Great Aunt, she smelled of the old school Oil of Olay which you can’t get anymore… I’ve tried. They’ve changed it too much. And she smelled of Mr. Bubble bubble bath which my sister and I would take in her giant clawfoot tub.

My Great Aunt and Nana both smelled of Christmas… well, the way I want Christmas to smell anyway and a way that it will never again. (And just writing that made me cry.)

There are other scents tied to grade school, especially the little round school I went to in State College for 2nd grade. There’s the smell of waxy crayons and sand from when we’d make those bizarre bits of art with colored sand in baby food jars. (Do you remember those?)

There’s the smell of fresh fallen leaves that every October takes me back to early grade school and certain long ago friends.

There’s the smell of plastic barbie dolls and Christmas gift baby dolls that came every year.

There’s the smell of the cheap paperbacks from Scholastic books and the newsprint that was the order form.

But mostly, to my point, it’s the smells around those people who were our whole worlds when we were little, so many of whom we’ve already said goodbye to.

When we’re little, we just can’t know. I think we’re built that way on purpose. The knowledge of so much coming heartache could easily steal joy from the little people we were … as yet unequipped to process that kind of loss and still so full of trust that it all will just go on and on…

Empathy isn't just for the hard stuff...

(I wish I could find the study I was reading because it was important but you know how … SQUIRREL!… And I’ve tried to find it again and just can’t. If I do find it some day, I’ll come back to this and update it.)

Onward… I was reading a study recently that came to the conclusion that perhaps — perhaps — almost 50% of the human population lacks the brain connections for true empathy.

Read that and weep. Or not.

If that stat is even close to true, it explains a lot about our world. It explains a lot about the seemingly endless struggle between people who focus on their own concerns and those who wish to better the world for everyone. (To put it all in compact and polite terms.)

That’s the macro look at it, but on the micro level, it can explain struggles we have with family and friends and even strangers when it comes to understanding motivations, the extension (or not) of care, the tangles we get in to over expectations, and on and on.

We are truly playing with different decks.

But with all of that, I bet in your mind, you’ve been focusing on the idea of empathy around difficult challenges.

There’s more to empathy than that and I’ve always sensed it but didn’t have the language for it.

It’s something I have been conscious of doing in my work since the beginning. I intuited that a huge part of what I do is really about making space for people to feel their feelings including BIG JOY.

That picture at the top… I love that moment between the two women on the right (Mara and Julie). They aren’t talking. They are simply finding shared joy in their playful embodiment.

Turns out there is language for this: Empathic Joy.

You can listen to a short podcast about the science of it right here.

Science, schmience… as usual it comes from an ancient philosophical/”religious” system: Buddhism.

And in Buddhism, it’s a practice. Of course, it is.

Mudita: sympathetic or unselfish joy, or joy in the good fortune of others. In Buddhism, mudita is significant as one of the Four Immeasurables.

(The other four immeasurables are: love, compassion, and equanimity. You can read more about them all over here.)

When someone gives us good news, do we start to think about our own lack of good news or are we just totally present to them, reflecting their experience back to them?

When we see a happy person out in the world, does that make us feel grouchy or judgy? Or do we take the opportunity to feel good with and for them?

This is the practice: all day long, watching for those moments of knee-jerk reactions that are grounded in jealousy or malice and checking them and replacing them.

I love this.

The body is the mind

I’ve been wanting to write about this for some time now but I kept stopping myself because it feels more like a book than a blog post. I finally decided it’s better to at least start getting these ideas down somewhere so here we are.

We’ve been seeing and saying the words “body, mind, and spirit” for so long, and we’re starting to wake up to the fact that that is the start of the problem: this idea that those three things are somehow separate.

Most western religions believe in some level of duality, as does most of what passes for “spirituality” and “wellness” today.

People speak of their meat suits as if they are somehow separate from them.

They are not. We are not.

Whatever you believe about what happens after you exist on this material plane, you don’t actually know. (Belief is not knowing no matter how much we want it to be.)

So starting there, we can assume that the body is us. This is the experience we are having, regardless of what — if anything — comes next.

And if anything does come next, I will still assert body’s primacy. Firstly, if we are somehow “other spirit,” there is something important about embodiment or why is it bothered with? Secondly, whatever comes next could simply be seen as evolutionary in nature and not separate from what came before. Again, it will be body that gets us wherever we are going.

All of that said…

“Mind” is the word we often use when we’re talking about some sort of higher/wiser knowing that we can feel (FEEL) does not come simply from brain — brain being an organ like any other.

But we are deceived by this language. Mind and body are not just one as in intertwined but they are one as in the same thing.

Here’s how it works:

Body is constantly receiving information and input from the world beyond your skin but also, of course, from everything within that skin.

Body is the antenna, if you will.

But then body also decides what to do with that information/input and to whom it might be delegated internally.

So body is simultaneously the processor of all the data.

After that, of course, body does what body does — it takes action; it remembers; it represses; it stores, and on and on.

All of this is happening to you all of the time in the background and in the foreground, depending on your awareness and your capacity for noticing (which can be increased consciously).

Every time you think you have “intuited” something, you have actually just received informative conclusions that have come from all of this receiving and processing that you are not aware of you. You can’t be. You would go insane.

(This also explains the difficulties that people with sensory processing disorders are living. They ARE aware of TOO MUCH and/or too little.)

Every time you think the “universe has granted you an answer/idea/etc.,” you have actually simply received that from yourself.

For example, you suddenly get a big new creative idea. You think suddenly because you’ve not been aware of all that data collecting that body has been up to and the storage it has assigned to brain and the background “thinking” that has been going on until you took that shower and yelled “AH-HA!”

You did that. It’s no Great Mystery but it is mysteriously beautiful in that we don’t totally understand the power and capabilities and wonder that these bodies and the wider ecology they exist in really have.

Another example: You know someone is an asshole the first time you meet them and you think that’s because you’re “empathic.”

Nope. Your body just happens to be extra damn amazing at collecting data like micro expressions, tone, etc. that other bodies may be missing.

What does this all mean?

It means that the more you are in your body, the more you practice listening to your body in its fullness, that the more your sense of self will grow. Your sense of agency in your life will expand the more you clear the static from your antenna. Your emotional health will increase as you defrag your processing.

It means that your body is the key to everything and that any kind of denial of that fact will only increase difficulty, challenge, and pain.

And no matter where you are in your body’s journey, its capacity for this clearing and defraging (the best metaphors I could come up with right now…) is always there but we must stop trying to “transcend.” That will happen quite naturally and eventually for all of us.