The path to calm is paved with good intentions.

Hello!  Finally, dear readers, life is resuming with a sense of normalcy as the kitchen project is pretty much complete.  After having to take over general contracting duties*, as our once normal, hard-working GC had some kind of psychotic break, and then nearly having a similar episode of my own, we went from this:

To this:

(Apologies to friends and family who have been subject to more kitchen update photos in person and via Facebook, than they ever were of my newborn children.)


Part of my return to my regular life, is no longer having to run to the stone or lumber yard, or turn my whole day upside down because the electrical inspector can come RIGHT NOW, and having the time to get back to my exercise class.  Much needed to get rid of the weight from the stress-induced eating pictured above (yes, I am eating directly out of a tub of ice cream).  In fact, I even had time to try a new class this week - hot yoga.

Hot yoga, at least the one I took, is a ninety minute group class in a room heated to roughly one hundred degrees.  Considering my love of exercising in public and my propensity for sweating like a Kardashian when the cameras turn off, this seems like the perfect choice for me, yes?  But, when my friend, L, mentioned this class to me and how much she loves it, instead of writing it off, I remembered how surprised I was by the barre class I now adore, and I decided to give it a shot this past Sunday.  So I grabbed my mat and a towel and headed off.

Upon my arrival it was clear this was not at all like my previous yoga experience in Florida,  It was a sleek, modern studio - completely cat hair and sheepskin free! - and all of my fellow students had hygienic mats, no prayers rugs, which considering the amount of perspiring we were about to do, seemed prudent.  Reassured, I dumped my stuff in the locker area and headed into the studio with my friend, L.

Crossing the threshold, I really knew this would not be like my time with Yogi Dev of the soothing gong.  Walking into the studio was like walking into a tea tree-scented pizza oven.  The instructor from the previous class was using a mop to clean, what appeared to be large puddles of water off the floor.  Was that sweat?   OK, I could last an hour.  Oh, yes, at this point I thought the class was only sixty minutes.  I was not corrected until our instructor, Jodi,  closed the door, trapping me in the Zen Inferno.  I looked around like a caged animal, positive by the end of the class I was going to disappear like the Wicked Witch of the West, leaving nothing but a pile of lycra clothing behind.  Sweat already dripping down my ass crack and running from my armpits, I settle onto my mat ready to fight my way through this thing and Jodi begins her opening remarks.  And...

This is traditionally where I begin a snarky retelling of my experience, but it was really very inspiring.  Yes, the sweating was pretty awful.  When I say it came off of me in buckets, I mean BUCKETS.  Four inch pools of Mary-water gathered on my soaked mat despite my swiping at them with my two ineffective, sweat-soaked hand towels.  I thought the woman in front of me a masochist, in her long-sleeved top, but I realized quickly that extra fabric absorbs the sweat, prevent the "rain" situation created when I was in plank position and liquid dripped from twenty different points of my body.  It was little comfort knowing I wasn't the only one, since I was imagining the microbes living in the sweat-fog filling the air, like swimming in a  human filth soup.  Yet, despite all this, the class was wonderful.

Yes, the physical part was challenging, but it was the mental component that I found the most compelling.  During Jodi's talk at the beginning of class she spoke about examining the emotions and reactions that come up during class instead of fighting them.  I didn't have to wait until we started getting all bendy to do that.  I was already feeling uncomfortable, and my knee-jerk reaction in those situations is to reject what's making me feel that way, typically with internal scoffing.  Like Long-sleeved Lady.  I failed to mention previously that she looked like an Athleta ad, all taught, toned muscle and super flexible.  I was feeling intimidated so I made fun of her shirt in my head.  Maybe I do that a lot.  Maybe it's not such a great thing.  "Bah!  Hippie nonsense!", my internal voice said.

Jodi also spoke of expectations.  How if we come into class expecting to perform perfect poses, we have already set ourselves up for disappointment.  Survival being my only objective, I didn't feel this applied to me.  But then she said the same is true of the rest of our lives.  Expectation breeds disappointment.  "When I come to teach, I really don't expect anyone to show up.  If you do, great."  I scoffed internally (See?  All the time!), and thought, "That seems like the attitude of a real go-getter."  It's easy to have no exptectations if you don't want to get anywhere.  Practically the only way my type-A brain can operate is with expectations.  My knee jerked wanting to think about Jodi living in some crappy apartment, scraping by on her instructor's salary, and instead I wondered what it would be like to not be constantly setting bars for one's self.  Even without being judgmental, I still believe goal-setting is part of success.

Then while in chaturanga**, something my sister, KK***, said popped into my head.  There is a big difference between expectation and intention.  You can fully intend to do something, and focus on it with all your energy, and the action of pursuing it becomes success.  Achievement of the goal is still the end game, but it becomes more of a positive process.  This was kind of a lightbulb moment for me.  Everyday, at five in the morning, I sit with my coffee and make the day's list.  It is always too long and impossible to complete, setting me up for disappointment everyday.  Healthy, yes?  For example, on the list this week would be "unpack entire house from kitchen project - kitchen, family room, basement, attic, garage".  See below:

But what if instead of setting such lofty goals, I put "unpack for two hours" on the list?

I decided this week to trying to work with intention instead of expectation.  And I have to say, not having my inner drill sergeant barking, "GET IT DONE!", in my ear was pretty freeing.  I haven't been ending my days with a feeling of failure.  If I carried through with my intentions, I feel successful.  I'm sure in a situation with a time frame Drill Sergeant MM would come back full force, combat boots and all, and I would welcome her. then.  She is very useful at times, and too much a part of my personality to ever really get rid of.  Five AM runs require some serious mental tricks.

I left that studio feeling much lighter - and not just because of the roughly two gallons of sweat I left on the floor (apologies to H for the condition of the Jeep, I didn't bring any dry pants).  I used to think yoga was about leaving in a blissed-out state and losing that state was failure   Now I know it is a time to examination your mind's reactions and the movements are way of keeping your body busy so you can do that.  Like a bag of Goldfish and a Hot Wheels for my body, to use a mothering metaphor.  Whatever discoveries you walk out with are success.

So is not not passing out in a puddle of your on secretions.  Namaste.

*The fee for my services?  Tickets to Beyonce at Mohegan Sun in August.  No, I'm not kidding.
**Again with the different language.  I need Rosetta Stone - Yoga.
***As a kid, she used to eat soap in the bathtub, now she gives me valuable emotional and spiritual advice.  Go figure.