Doing Nothing but Not for No Reason

In July I took a restorative yoga teacher training with Judith Hanson Lasater. Restorative yoga is officially the "practice of using props to position the body to promote health and wellness," but I think of it as yoga to regulate the nervous system, and what it looks like is people lying still on pillows, blankets, and other "props" for 20 minutes or so at a time. 

Currently in the US, many people think "yoga" means an exercise class, but restorative yoga is not exercise at all.

It is wakeful rest. It is the art of doing nothing.

Turns out that doing nothing, while in a specific position, is doing something. Depending on how you position the body, you can help support its healing process. One pose can ease your back pain, another your swollen and tired legs, another your digestion. Poses can also be indicated for emotional support such as in times of grief. By resting in stillness, awake and with eyes closed, we can activate our "rest and digest" function (the parasympathetic nervous system, or PNS) the part of our nervous system that is in charge of all forms of maintenance, repair, and healing in our body.

The sympathetic nervous system (SNS), on the other hand - also referred to as our "get up and go" or "fight, flight, or freeze" response - is in charge of our survival and activity. It gets us up and out of bed, keeps us active during the day, and is in charge of the reflexes that keep us alive when we are almost hit by a car or mugged.

The thing is, we can't use both parts of the nervous system at once - it is one or the other. Either we are resting and digesting, or getting up and going. And the thing is, even when we think we are "relaxing," or taking a break, we are often still using our SNS: watching a scary movie, riding a rollercoaster, or exercising might be a fun break from your day job, but from the perspective of your SNS it is not a break at all! So if when we are "taking a break" our SNS doesn't get a break too, how are our bodies ever supposed to go into PNS and do the repair and maintenance work we need to thrive?

Given this knowledge of how our nervous system works, is it any surprise that in our "work hard, play hard" and "go, go, go" culture, more and more people are suffering from chronic illnesses?

I was already aware of the physical benefits of restorative yoga, and it is those physical benefits that drew me to the training. I wanted to learn more to help both myself and others. But what really struck me during the week-long training was not the physical benefits of the practice, but the importance of its spiritual lesson:

Doing nothing teaches us that we are enough.

So often we get tangled up in the belief that our worth is a direct result of our productivity. We feel good when we are productive, frustrated and disappointed with ourselves if we are not. If we are busy, we assume that means our life has meaning. Not busy? Then something is wrong - you must be lazy, unintelligent, not care about yourself or the group, or somehow be "broken or "less than."

It seems like lying around doing nothing would be an easy practice to teach people, and yet as I have started to practice restorative more and teach it to others, I am finding that's not the case.

In my effort to practice one pose a day, I come up against all kinds of emotional resistance: "But I have plenty of energy today!" or "I'm fine!" or (lately, in the past few weeks) "No, I'm too angry to be still!" I seem to think I need a reason to rest, or to meet specific criteria to do so. And yet I don't need a reason or to meet specific criteria to floss, shower, or exercise - I just do it as part of my daily maintenance, no questions asked. 

It fascinates me that the idea of rest as a daily health habit is completely foreign to me and others in my culture. Really? Why does a habit of rest seem so weird?

In teaching this practice to others, I got a rainbow of reactions.

I thought restorative would be a good introduction for people who have never practiced yoga before, and yet so far I am finding that newbies are among the worst responders. They like it when I set them up in a pose, but aren't willing to do the work themselves on their own. They aren't in touch with their bodies and so it's harder for them to feel the results and therefore, understandably, stay motivated.

The students I have taught who are accustomed to being with their bodies - so far these folks have been experienced yoga practitioners and/or meditators - they can see the value in restorative yoga, and will overcome the frustrations of learning something new in order to get themselves in the habit of practicing on their own.

It's also the second group that is more receptive to the spiritual lesson of being enough. As a group, they seem to be more aware of the pain the belief "I'm not enough" causes.

I initially took the teacher training for my own benefit and to pass on to others in my Yoga for V Pain classes, but I have become more interested in it than I expected. Seemingly simple, restorative yoga is a complex creature that reaches much more deeply than I realized, asking larger questions than I thought it would. I am looking forward to continuing to grapple with this, both in my own practice and in my teaching...we'll see what unfolds...

Interested in taking a restorative yoga class? Find a certified teacher at www.RelaxandRenew.com, and note: "restorative yoga" is not a trademarked name, so although it most frequently refers to Judith Hanson Lasater's work, sometimes people use that term to mean something else. Relax and Renew© is, however, a copyrighted term, so if a person is Relax and Renew© certified you know what you are getting into. :) Just a tip, I found out the hard way...

Next week I'll be sharing more photographs and talking about the effect photographing people at rest had on me. See you next week!

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PS Did this post get your brain gears crankin'?

Feel free to start a conversation below (it's okay, you can be anonymous)!

Happy First Birthday!

Holy cow! We did it!

I have been writing the YatraYoni blog for one whole year!!! - and then some. My first post was July 24th, 2014.

What a roller coaster.

I've done sooooo much. I went to a blogging conference, and the International Pelvic Pain Society 2014 Annual Fall Meeting. I joined a nascent network of SF Bay Area health professionals who want to provide integrative care for their pelvic pain patients. I started a MeetUp group for pelvic pain yoga classes. I got an awesome accountability buddy. I have done yoga trainings on holistic ayurvedic post-partum care, restorative yoga, yoga and trauma, and in a couple of days I am doing a five day training on yoga and the pelvic floor with Leslie Howard. I won a scholarship to Marie Forleo's B-School. I applied for a sex educator training that will take place next spring. Frustrated with the lack of clear and understandable language to describe what I write about, I even coined new phrases: the straightforward term "v pain" and it's sister "v health." 

Along the way I have met and "met" via phone so many awesome women: Sarah Kennedy (sexuality coach serving women with pelvic pain and low libido,) Professor Devavani Chatterjea (researches the link between immunology and vulvodynia,) Melissa Jones (Mormon sexologist, sex coach, and progressive sex toy store owner,) Tianna Meritage-Reiter (pelvic PT and yoga teacher,) and Sarah Mueller (lube maven and progressive sex toy store employee - look for her interview in the coming weeks!) I have also found other awesome v pain bloggers, like Danielle Lavieri at daniellelavieri.com, Sarah4Hope at whensexhurtsthereishope.com, and Jackie at thatsexualhealing.wordpress.com.

The past year has been a learning tornado. In the process of looking for things to help other women, I have found so many things to help myself: practices like Womb Yoga with Uma Dinsmore-Tuli and The Art of Feminine Presence, products like Commandos, Dear Kate's, & Thinx, and newly on my horizons is hormonal education via Alissa Vitti's WomanCode and floliving.com.

* * *

I remember how I felt about all of this last May and June. The nugget of an idea for a website was there, but I was reluctant to pursue it. In the months between the ten year anniversary of the start of my symptoms and the ten year anniversary of my diagnosis, I wanted so much for other women to not go what I have gone through, and yet was still deeply hesitant and scared about opening up and coming out of the v pain closet, held in by the fear of being perceived by others as "broken" or "less than."

But I ripped off the Band-Aid and did it anyway. And again, and again, and again. It is still not easy telling people about this website, but I do, and am reminded over and over why it is needed: people I just met are telling me "What's the name of that site again? My mom is having problems down there," or "I didn't know you knew about that - my younger sister is dealing with painful sex and is really having a hard time," or "I am dealing with this but live in Virginia - can you help me?" 

So I hand out my contact info and business cards and scribble down notes - books someone should read, the name of a doctor or PT in their area, whatever I think will help guide them along their journey. Usually I never hear back about whether someone found help, but I keep passing on information, knowing that just because there is silence doesn't mean nothing is happening.

* * *

I am so grateful to all of you who read and subscribe to this blog. You have been the kick in the pants that keeps me going, and knowing that I have to get my post done has propelled me along this learning journey at a speed much faster than I thought possible.

You will notice in the coming weeks changes on this site. All of this learning has made me realize that it is time to say goodbye to the name "YatraYoni" - beautiful though she may be, she is confusing to people, making v health seem difficult and strange rather than accessible and approachable. I love her and will hold her dear - I'm sure she will pop up elsewhere in my work in the future.

A new domain name means a new Facebook page, etc. I am cleaning up house, ditching things that haven't been so helpful over the past year, punching away at the things that are working, and putting plans in motion for new projects.

It has been lovely to take this time to reflect on how far I have come. There have been so many times over the past year that I have wanted to give up, throw in the towel, get a new hobby! Celebrating the positive and the progress is giving me fuel for the next year.

Thank you for your presence and your bravery.

Much love,

* * *

PS Did this post get your brain gears crankin'?

Feel free to start a conversation below (it's okay, you can be anonymous)!

From “Hot Mess" to Sacred Messenger

Although in our culture we perceive illness as an event happening to an individual, it is no secret that illnesses are indicative not only of an individual but a community out of balance.

For instance, we blame individuals for being overweight, chalking it up to a lack of willpower, even though we know that the culture around the production and eating of food in this country does not support human (or environmental) health. Easier to blame the individual for their lack of vitality, though, rather than take on the web of political, industrial, financial, and cultural forces that create the environment in which eating well takes an awful lot of swimming upstream.

And so it is with v health.

I am sitting here today having recently experienced another bout of v pain, and currently experiencing miserable menstrual cramps, among other things. 

It has not escaped my notice that as a child I wanted so much to be a boy - the status of girls and women as second-class citizens was obvious to me at a very young age - and then grew up to experience a rather full gamut of health problems directly affecting my female parts (menstrual pain, v pain, etc) as well as illnesses that in our society affect women at higher rates (depression, anorexia, and chronic pain of all kinds.)

There is an awareness, however nascent, that to take on the nation's diabetes and obesity problems we will need to change our food and exercise culture; Michelle Obama and the White House vegetable garden being a well-known example. 

But where is the awareness that the epidemic of health problems affecting female parts and female bodies also indicate a disturbing imbalance that needs to be addressed as a group? Breast cancer, PCOS, dysmenorrhea, fertility challenges, v pain, painful sex, endometriosis, post-partum incontinence, eating disorders, anxiety, burnout, depression...our female bodies are suffering so intensely and yet there is no movement or consciousness that these are anything but individual problems.

(Hell, in some cases there isn't even an idea that these symptoms are actually problems - post-partum incontinence and menstrual cramps are often assumed to be "just part of being a woman." Bulls**t. They may be common, but they aren't normal or healthy.)

My health problems are mine and I am the one in charge of addressing them, but they are also potent signs of cultural disease. I do not think that I would have half the health problems I have suffered from had I been born on a planet that values women, girls, and the feminine in all of us. At the very least, had these health problems still manifested, I would have had a hell of a lot more support in overcoming them. In a world in which the female is valued, it is researched and nourished and cared for, not hidden away under layers of fear and shame.

I write this in solidarity with others who suffer as I do, and to remind my sisters that your v pain or menstrual pain or PCOS or fertility challenges or whatever isn't just YOUR problem, it's OUR problem. Our bodies are reflecting back to us the illness of our cultures and societies, a set of values improperly prioritized.

Is it fair that you get the brunt of this suffering? No. 

I would not wish this suffering upon anyone, least of all myself. And yet I acknowledge that I have power in this situation too, a role to play in the larger ecosystem. I can sit back and suffer silently and nothing will change, for me or anyone else, OR I can recognize my role as cultural barometer and make my story public, so that my people and community can see what is happening and be given the opportunity to make change.

When studying ecology, amphibians are viewed as being excellent indicators of the health of their ecosystems. Why? They are sensitive. Watch them and they will alert you to all kinds of problems before said problems are big enough to harm others. The amphibians' vulnerability serves to protect.

Yes, vulnerability is a source of strength and power.

Toughen up the toads and you lose that early warning.

I think we ought to hold a special place in our society for amphibians, literal and metaphorical. Take care of them and you take care of everyone. Protect them and you protect everyone. Neglect them at your peril, as then all will suffer.

* * *

For so many years I have wrestled with the frustration of being chronically ill. Considering my experience from an individual standpoint, I battled the feelings of "less than" over and over again.

But when I step back and see the whole ecosystem, I realize that I am not "less than" at all. Holy crap, not in the slightest. My job is to embrace, care for, and cherish my sensitive, sweet, female body, and alert the rest of the tribe to the damage they are doing. 

Ultimately, whether they heed my warnings or not is their choice; my job is to run my own life, not everyone else's. But my personal transformation from victim to messenger is healing in and of itself. 

Re-casting my role from "hot mess" to sacred messenger has been liberating. It gives me a much stronger platform upon which to stand. It is a lot easier to push this work forward when I view my experience as a strength rather than a liability, and see sharing it as a service to my people.

So the next time you are sitting in your pity puddle, feeling sorry for yourself and (righteously) angry at the world, ask - is this really only about you? Or are you in Toad Mode, reflecting back society's ills?

Even if you are not ready to shout your v pain story from the rooftops, acknowledging your place in a wider context can help you not take your v pain so personally. It can help to derail the "I am broken" thought train. And derailing the "I am broken" thought train is half the battle.

So try on your new toad skin and see how it fits. Hop on in, the water's fine...

Ribbit.

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PS Did this post get your brain gears crankin'?

Feel free to start a conversation below (it's okay, you can be anonymous)!

“I know someone who had that."

For many years after my diagnosis, I didn't speak of my v pain to anyone other than a few close friends and my sweetheart. But when I started teaching yoga a few years ago, I wanted to be honest about what drew me to the practice. In the yoga world people often chit-chat about what brought them to the mat, and while I didn't want to be detailed in my honesty, I didn't want to lie, either.

At first I would say that I came to yoga because of a variety of chronic illnesses, but apparently that was too vague as people would always press for more. If I mentioned the pain disorder, the person conversing with me would then say "Oh, fibromyalgia?" (always fibromyalgia) at which point I would reply that no, it wasn't. Pause. Unwilling to say "vulvar pain" or explain the term "vulvodynia," I would simply say "I have a pelvic pain disorder."

At the mention of the word "pelvic" men would get uncomfortable and quickly remove themselves from the conversation, and sometimes that would happen with women too. But often - if it was a woman - she would lower her voice and say:

"I know someone who had that."

Had WHAT? Do you recall that the pelvis includes many different organs and body parts, any of which could experience pain? Some would leave the conversation at that, but often she'd talk about how horrible it had been for this person she knew. I'd try to look sympathetic and nod, having no idea if we were talking about endometriosis, interstitial cystitis, lichen sclerosis, vulvodynia, or something I'd never heard of. 

I can't pin this peculiarity to the yoga world either, as over the years these conversations took place in other contexts as well.

In all of these these situations I clearly had boundaries about how detailed I was willing to be about my health history, so I have never thought it fair to call anyone out and actually ask them what they meant. But it never ceases to amaze me how many women out there will go on about something - furtively - when it is not clear if both people are discussing the same thing.

Like last week's post, these veiled conversations have highlighted the fact that we won't make any progress without first learning how to communicate about the pelvis.

The other odd thing is that the phrase is always the same - I know someone who had that. Let's break it apart, shall we?

1.) Part One: "I know someone..." No one has ever admitted me to me right then and there that they themselves struggle with chronic pelvic pain. The closest I've gotten to that is a woman who said she would like to meet with me to talk more about this topic - we did meet, and in that safe space she did say that she had been having some struggles and asked me about my experience.

I'm not sure if women are simply more willing to discuss something sensitive with the safety of distance, while women struggling with these health issues themselves remain silent. Or perhaps "I know someone" sometimes means "I know someone - me?" I think usually the situation is the former, but I have sometimes wondered.

2.) Part Two: "...who had..."  For some reason, this person my conversation partner knows is apparently beyond her pelvic pain - it's in the past. Again, is it because sensitive topics are easier to discuss with distance, not only in terms of who it is happening to, but at what point in time? 

Statistically, it seems very unlikely to me that ONLY women who know women who had "that" in the past should ever meet me, and never the women suffering themselves, or the friends of women suffering currently.

Or is that some of these sufferers are still struggling, but its just easier for the friend to communicate about if she pretends its in the past? Maybe my conversation partners don't want to stigmatize their friends, even anonymously, by advertising her "broken" lady parts? Or is that the friend heard about it in the past and is assuming the sufferer has recovered, when in fact perhaps the sufferer has just not talked about it for a while? Given how persistent many pelvic pain disorders are, and the lack of good treatment options for many of them, I find it hard to believe that 100% of the cases women tell me about are neatly and tidily taken care of and in the past permanently.

3.) Part Three: "...that." Ah yes, "that." Which again means what??? When it comes to pelvic pain, intelligent and otherwise articulate women are reduced to communicating via pronouns without bothering to specify what that pronoun is referring to. 

No one has ever said to me "I know someone who is struggling with a pelvic pain disorder as well." No, no, this person always had "that" as if "pelvic" as an adjective only described one body part, as opposed to a region of the body with many different parts and functions contained within it.

* * *

These conversations have been very educational, in that I have learned women do not have the tools to talk articulately about issues of the pelvis.

Also frustrating, in that they don't really come to anything. The woman I am speaking with generally tells me quickly how horrible it was for her friend, warmly wishes me good luck, and then runs for the door. 

As I write this, I think I need to re-think my policy of responding with sympathetic nods. How can I shift the conversation while still keeping my conversation partner feeling safe enough to continue the discussion?

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that someone you know is suffering - we may not have the same issue, however, as there are dozens of pelvic pain disorders affecting all of the different systems in the pelvis. I'm always looking for resources for my own health as well as to refer to others, so I would love to get your contact information - would you be comfortable asking your friend if she would be willing to talk to me and exchange resources?"

or perhaps

"You know, it's funny, I get that response a lot even though there are dozens of different pelvic pain disorders. Many women suffer from one or more of them, so I am always looking for more resources for myself and others - do you think your friend would be willing to talk with me? Maybe she and I can help each other out."

The next time this situation arises I will try and remember to use one of these responses instead. It would be great to be able to build on these points of contact - get a referral, meet someone new, whatever. Maybe by providing a woman with an experience of an articulate but still discreet and respectful conversation, she will have an easier time talking about pelvic pain in the future.

I'll let you know how it goes. In the meanwhile, does this happen to anyone else?

My Teacher, Oxalis

Oxalis. This photo was taken a couple of years ago, on a sidewalk in Oakland.

A couple of weeks ago, I asked the weeds in my garden to leave. They did.

I asked them gently and politely, explaining as I pulled that I did so to make room for the madrones. Not yet two feet high, these madrones will grow to the size of a small tree, and they are the foundation plants for the California native plant garden that already grows in my imagination and will soon grow just out my back door.

"I know these madrones don't look like they need room," I whispered, "and that the space around them looks like it is available, but it is not. Madrones need elbow room, darling. I see that you came to say hello and give me a much-needed reminder for me to spend time here in the corners of the yard. I hear you. I'm listening. Now go tell your brothers that this space needs to stay clear for the madrones and the other natives I'll be planting."

I got the bulk of my weeding done that afternoon, but when I went back to finish a couple of days later the remaining plants were wilted on the ground, the life force no longer there. A few here and there still looked alive, and so I gently pulled them only to find anemic roots, ones that wouldn't have sustained them for long.

* * *

For the record, these particular weeds were oxalis, one of the most notorious weeds in my area. They look like clover, but they sprout bright, bright, yellow flowers in the late winter and early spring. Looking dainty, they are so persistent that they will crowd out and therefore kill everything around them. When you pull them up, they leave seeds behind. They are, by local lore, nearly impossible to get rid of, a gardener's curse. I know someone who as a test cut them at the stem and painted Roundup on the exposed part (conventional Roundup application doesn't do anything.) She said it worked. Impractical for obvious reasons, but that should give you an idea of how tough these plants are. Other methods I know of for getting rid of oxalis are no less elaborate, including the classic, "Move."

And yet the oxalis in my yard were happy to bow out with a simple request.

* * *

I wrote recently about how my concept of healing is changing; rather than trying to fix myself, I am instead aligning myself with reality. 

The afternoon that I surveyed the wilted oxalis in my yard, I felt, on behalf of mankind, like a complete jackass. We drive ourselves nuts, cursing and dumping all kinds of chemicals on our lawns, gardens, and farms, when apparently all we need to do to get rid of weeds is start a conversation.

"Use your words!" we admonish our cranky three year-olds, and yet here we are, having forgotten not only our words but an entire way of being.

* * *

My talking with the plants did not end with the oxalis. As a person in search of healing I am a person in search of wholeness, and in watching plants respond to my thoughts I felt my role in the web of consciousness like I never had before. Something that had been there all along was suddenly apparent. 

So this is living through wholeness.

Remembering.

* * *

Original photo of a Pacific Madrone on Orcas Island, Washington, by and (c)2007 NaJina McEnany. Used under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 Generic License. Our little baby madrones in the backyard are too young to have developed their signature bark just yet.