Sunset on the Isle of Skye, by keepwaddling1

Sometimes your world turns upside down in an instant, and your life is never the same again. These events might be as traumatic as the death of a loved one, or as deceptively simple as seeing a beautiful sight for the first time. We asked people to send us details about an event that acted as a catalyst for change in their lives.

Many thanks to everyone who submitted something. It was really difficult to narrow down, but here are ten of the best.

1. Escaping domestic violence and stalking

By Alexis A Moore, founder and president of Survivors in Action

In 2004 I fled a violent and abusive relationship. My abusive partner’s job involved locating people and assets, and because of this, the women’s shelter I ran to refused to take me. Despite being bloody and bruised, they gave me no help at all, and threw me out onto the streets like garbage. I had to take matters into my own hands, and went into hiding.

Over the next two years I was continually stalked and threatened by my abuser, but I couldn’t find anyone to help. Lawyers would claim to be worried about their own safety (often after taking my money), and the cops refused to take domestic violence, stalking and cyber-stalking seriously as crimes.

I sent out literally thousands of letters to different agencies, explaining my situation and asking for help. All were ignored. Finally, in 2006, one agency responded. They were supportive, though unable to help, but that response was enough to give me hope and turn my life around.

La Sagrada Familia, by Wolfgang Staudt

I started volunteering for them, doing fundraising and victim support. In 2007 I founded Survivors in Action, to advocate for victims of domestic violence. A large part of our mission is to hold domestic violence resources accountable to victims.

Enduring the hell of being abused and stalked has in some ways been a great gift. It has made me a stronger, wiser woman, and has given me a new lease on life and the opportunity to help others.

2. La Sagrada Familia and life are a work in progress

By Norbert Figueroa

The first time I stepped outside my American comfort zone was a trip to Spain, and visiting La Sagrada Familia church in Barcelona was a real eye-opening experience.

I was really moved by the building’s grandiose stature, and how the light penetrates the unfinished walls and ceilings. By how the space and character keep changing day by day, piece by piece; by how thousands of people are literally visiting a construction site.

Looking at this work in progress opened my eyes to something new, strange, and bigger than I could imagine. For me, La Sagrada Familia is like a modern ruin. We visit ancient ruins and marvel at all the history that took place there. But this is the inverse, a space ripe with potential that encourages you to participate in its ongoing construction, to wonder not just about its past and ever-changing present, but also about its possible future outcomes.

La Sagrada Familia showed me the beauty of the strange and the unknown. It’s like a metaphor for life, and made me want to build something myself out of places and experiences like this one. It awakened a sense of wonder in me about the meanings and possibilities of life, and turned me into the traveler I am today.

Narragansett Bay, by jodiiiii

3. Finding hope in the ebb and flow of life

By Cristina Dimen

I stood on the deck and gazed into the bay, waiting. Waiting for the comfort that always fills my heart when I watch the waters ebb and flow along the shoreline of Narragansett Bay, when I listen to the gulls squawk, when I see wind-filled sails burst forward or spot pebbles on the beach awash with foam. But the view was amiss, and all I could feel was stillness, as if time had stopped.

Inside the yellow house behind me, my father-in-law lay attached to a respirator. His still frame was void of the quiet strength that was his nature, and although open, his eyes no longer saw the family and friends gathered around him. But we knew our voices could still be heard. We held his hands. With tears flowing freely, we let him know he wasn’t alone. With his loved ones at his side, he succumbed to cancer and left us that night.

Today, a splash of yellow-orange tints the morning sky. Gulls glide in from afar, and the bay waters embrace the shore. Life’s rhythmic scene is beautiful, yet different. As the live painting unfolds before me, my grief has company – hope. I remember Dad’s appreciation for life, and his love for this scenery. It gives me hope that I, too, will value the ebb and flow of life. I’m learning to look up from my laptop, to really enjoy this journey with loved ones.

Keep reading to hear about a supernatural encounter on the Isle of Skye!

Photo by skyseeker

I’ve often wondered if we could tell our pre-child selves exactly what becoming a parent would mean — the sacrifices, the inhuman patience, the changes, the lack of sleep, the disappearance of late weekend brunches, the leash that binds you to your kids — how many of us would decide against procreation?

It’s not easy being a parent, but given the opportunity, would we want to return to pre-child life? I certainly wouldn’t. No, it’s not our children that make us unhappy. I’d argue that our children allow us to see the world more joyfully and with fewer pretenses. No, the source of our lugubriousness lies elsewhere.

Parenting By Committee Sucks

Apparently, there are rules for parenting that baby books fail to mention:

You don’t take your child out for dinner past 8pm. Your child shouldn’t jump, shout, laugh or make any noise unless in a place specifically designated for children. Travel with children is impossible. Homeschooling is whacky, and at no time should your child ever touch another adult’s stuff.

Take for instance a recent discussion I had on You Be Mom, the counterpart parent group to the Urban Baby Jennifer Senior mentions in her article. One mom vented about another woman, a stranger, yelling at her to “keep her children in line” because her three-year-old son touched this woman’s handbag.

“She’s right. Your child shouldn’t be touching other people’s stuff,” the majority of other mothers scolded.

I chime in my two cents that kid are kids; they run around. An adult should be mature enough to understand that.

Photo by sektordua

“You must be raising some really entitled brats,” I was told.

It’s what I call parenting by committee. We imagine everything that could potentially happen based on the needs of all the others on the committee, and then create rules based on those possibilities. Individual child and circumstance don’t matter.

Imagine, though, if the adult simply turns to the child and kindly but firmly requests “Please, don’t touch my bag.” It would have more effect on Lila than hearing my repeated orders of “Don’t touch strangers’ bags.” She’d also remember this lesson the next time she thought to rifle through another person’s belongings.

The Myth of Perfection

When Noah and I fight, the pitch rises and at some point he accuses me, “You think you’re perfect.”

But it’s not that I believe myself to be perfect, it’s that ideally I want everything to be perfect. Clean house, happy kid, work done, dog well trained, healthy meals, lots of free time and nothing out of order.

It would be nice. It’s never going to happen.

The sooner we embrace our imperfections and revel in the things that do go well, the more content we will be.

We’ve Lost the Ability to See the World As Children

“Did you see Babies?” asks Lois Nachamie, a couples counselor who for years has run parenting workshops and support groups on the Upper West Side. She’s referring to the recent documentary that compares the lives of four newborns—one in Japan, one in Namibia, one in Mongolia, and one in the United States (San Francisco).

“I don’t mean to idealize the lives of the Namibian women,” she says. “But it was hard not to notice how calm they were. They were beading their children’s ankles and decorating them with sienna, clearly enjoying just sitting and playing with them, and we’re here often thinking of all of this stuff as labor.”

This sounds suspiciously like existing in the moment.

Children handle the overwhelming influx of information differently. They ask a lot of questions, ignore some of it, fixate on other parts. They rarely worry about the future or past. That’s what allows Lila one minute to tell her friend Rosie she hates her and the next minute they’re best friends again.

Photo by slightlywinded

It’s one of the best things about being a parent, really, to have this little person forcing you over and over to be with them right then and there. Play with me.
Draw with me. What is that? Why is the flag so stretchy? What is the dog eating?

We Do Not Trust Ourselves

Last week, a boy at school told Lila that she’s not as pretty as Desiree. She was crushed.

“Are you friends with him?”
“No.”
“Do you think what he says is true?”
“No.”
“Then why does it matter what he says?”
Problem solved.

Generally, the things that bother us most are the things which we ourselves already believe to be true, and are based squarely in our own already well-cultivated insecurities.

Tell me my child is an entitled brat? I’ll shrug my shoulders. Call me a blue jumping lily leaping frog, and I’ll think you’re crazy. I know none of these to be true.

Suggest to me that I spend too much time working and not enough time with Lila. That hits home.

I am a much happier person today than I was before Lila was born. I am more content and less anxious about every area of my life. Again, this has nothing to do with Lila and everything to do with myself and the way I see the world.

If I’m more worried about the contents of a stranger’s bag than myself and my child, I rely on that stranger’s approbation before I feel right in myself. If I care what another says about my house, clothes, weight, my child’s development or any other number of things, I place the onus of my happiness in their hands.

Even if a stranger manages to touch on an insecurity hot spot, we still have the ability to recognize the insecurity, address it and change it.

Why hand over that power?

We Give Up Our Own Responsibility

Just yesterday, Lila had a huge fight with Rosie, because she wanted to be the cat and Rosie was supposed to be the horse. Rosie doesn’t want to be a horse. Rosie hits Lila. This escalates into crying, and even when Rosie apologizes, Lila does not want to accept. “She doesn’t even mean it!” she screams, tears running down her face.

Photo by bobby-james

Lila’s feelings are hurt. She’s angry. She feels rejected, because her friend doesn’t want to give her what she wants. There is little Rosie can do to ease Lila’s pain. Now Lila must decide for herself to move past her emotions.

While this may seem a childish exchange, the pieces are merely variables. Lila’s experience working through interpersonal relationships mirrors the adult experience.

You decide for yourself. When is it so much more important to be the kitty instead of the horse that you’ll trade your own contentment?

The Parental Conundrum of Self Development

Having a child forces us to be more aware, more in the moment and less selfish, all things that make room for tremendous self growth. But having children also robs us of the time and energy we need in order to make the changes we’d like to improve our lives and outlook, so we find ourselves constantly off balance. Then, we worry it’s not OK to be off balance, because we’re disappointing others. In the meantime, we’re not nourishing ourselves.

So there we are, standing on one foot, juggling horses in one hand and kitties in the other, all the while wishing we could be doing it better, with more style; that we could be happier doing it. At what point do we stop, pat ourselves on the back and say, “Hey, look at me! It may not be pretty, but at least I’m doing it.”

While it is often difficult to accept that perhaps we are the cause of our own misery, isn’t it good to know that the power to turn it around lies firmly in our own hands?

Community Connection

What life lessons have you learned from parenting? Share your thoughts in the comments.

Photo by Lachlan Hardy

I’m supposed to be writing an article about the different ways in which we measure ourselves, but I can’t concentrate because somewhere in the yard behind me I can hear Lila screaming at the dog.

Sometimes she laughs, which makes me smile, but it inevitably rises into a whiny crescendo. When the pitch reaches a particular note, I know without a doubt that soon the dog will nip, scratch or do something to otherwise offend her, and it will all end in tears.

Yep, there we go. She’s crying. This time, because he’s destroyed the intricate pillow fort she’d constructed for him. Instead of doing just what she required of him, he’s broken free, grabbed the leg of her pants and is now pulling hard. The two are twirling around in circles.

I figure I’ve given her plenty of instruction on how to stop this little game, and there’s not much more I can do to help. So I sit here typing away, taking occasional sips of my tea and cringing between Lila’s shrieks, the dog barking, and hearing Noah intervene with “No, no biting. No biting.”

Excuse me a second. I have to deal with this.

Ok, five minutes later, and I’m back. The dog has been completely riled up, and I’ve just been accused by Lila of liking the dog better.

Am I the only one who wants to run away from home?

You know the feeling.

When all the things we now possess or maintain, when the weight of all the fragments of home life suddenly take on the density of star matter. Car payments, floor to clean, alarm to wake us up at 6:30 am which we then snooze because it’s winter, but you have to get up to feed the dog. They pull us in, and down, and hold us tight to suffocation.

Photo by oddsock

It’s the flip side of homesickness: sick-of-homeness, if you will.

Homesickness often hits when you least expect it. At the supermarket when you realize there’s no peanut butter or maple syrup, or when you’re tired and haven’t seen a comfortable bed in weeks. It’s disconnection.

Sick-of-homeness arises from too much connection and grabs me when I’m most frustrated. It hits hardest on weeks like this one. Lila’s been sick, and we’ve barely left the house in seven long, repetitive days.

Friday passes into Monday which becomes April, May, soon-to-be June, and the only thing marking the difference is my weekly Tuesday morning Skype call with an education consultant in New Jersey, and Lila’s Friday afternoon horse riding lessons.

Daily life requires so much tedious maintenance, and i feel trapped. Washing dishes, putting away clothes, organizing… only to realize a couple of weeks later that it’s all a mess again and needs to be reorganized. It makes me want to divest ourselves of those new dishes – already chipping after six months of use – pack a couple of small bags and get back on the road.

I begin to devise my escape, but is breaking free what I really want right now?

How To Know When It’s Time To Go

It’s actually quite simple. Ask yourself the following two questions:

• Do my choices move me toward something I want or away from something I don’t want?
• Am I afraid of making the change?

If my reasons for either staying or leaving lie only in the things I want to escape, then I have more work to do before making a choice. If fear guides me toward my decisions, it’s time to find another motivator.

As you evaluate the different parts of your life one by one, you’ll find each fits into one of these two categories.

Photo by TheAlieness GiselaGiardino

Try it. Family. Friends. Career. Pet. Significant other. Volunteer work. Favorite pizza place. Access to clean water. Exhaustion. Frustration. Sublime happiness. Great biking trails. Clean air. Horses. Backyard. Children. Access to education.

As I assess the parts of my life here in Salta, I ask myself if there is truly something here for me, right now.

It’s taken over a year to find and settle in a new house. We have a dog. Lila loves her school – which is fabulous – and she has lots of friends. I’ve started teaching again, working with a group of children in a place where I’m able to make a real difference in their lives and in mine as well.

And I love Argentina. It’s a unique country with so much to explore and so many people to meet.

The frustrations of the day will pass, just as they would resurface were I to settle elsewhere or turn full-time nomadic again. Leaving my current home would mean abandoning the promise it holds, leaving questions unanswered and projects undone.

I am not afraid of departure, but I will regret that which I leave incomplete.

Eventually, I will move on. When? I have no idea. It could be a year or three years or more. But right now, my place is where I am, even with that damn barking dog and all those other ordinary everyday joys.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION

Why are you where you are right now? Let us know in the comments below. And if you are looking for inspiration to take the plunge and head off, here are ten reasons to let you know it’s time to go.

Photo by alicepopkorn

But wait! Does this mean I can no longer call myself a bonafide traveler? In some ways, yes. Mostly, no.

Travel isn’t about having the crazy-hard story to tell, about the time you got stuck on the bad side of town with no idea where you were after missing your boat and ended up sharing your mat with a chicken. Although those are fun stories to tell. Travel also isn’t just about visiting the wonderful sights and experiences this planet has to offer, although that’s a huge part of it. I mean, imagine if I left Iceland never having visited the Blue Lagoon spa? (Which, by the way, if you’re going anyway, I suggest visiting immediately upon arriving in the country. There’s an airport bus that will take you and your luggage to the spa and then after, when you’re properly relaxed, to Reykjavik.)

True travel is something else.

There’s a certain openness of spirit common to all Travelers.

Your eyes, ears and mouth open wide to even the most mundane of daily events, and each sense welcomes the new without expectation. It is, dare-I-say-it, exactly how a child sees the world.

Travel is about adapting to the new and allowing experience to wash over you without judgment. It’s about rolling with the punches and not rolling your eyes.

And it is each person’s choice to see the world as a Traveler or not, just as happiness is so often a choice. Living in one place with one job and one weekly schedule, it’s easy to believe the restlessness or even unhappiness you feel comes from routine. Of course, it’s easier to see the world anew each day when in fact, everything you’re seeing is actually new, but it’s also just as easy to recreate your routine on the road.

The challenge, at base, is to view each day, each event and each moment with fresh eyes, because no matter how little luggage you may bring along for your next trip, you always bring yourself.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION

How far do you go to see something new in your world?

Photo by Anne Merritt

Nick’s mum came to visit two weeks ago and brought Vermont maple syrup in her luggage. Since then, we’ve been giddy and liberal with the stuff; pancakes, fruit parfaits, and a big batch of our collaborative granola. Usually, we’re on different ends of the cooking spectrum. He makes healthy, hearty dishes, curries and soups. I make the unnecessary stuff, the pies and cookies and buttery comfort foods. But we come together to make granola, and I do believe our maple nut recipe is perfection.

After a week of granola gorging, our huge batch shrank down to some crumbs in a jar. Today we passed it back and forth between us, eating handfuls, wiping crumbs on our jeans, happily planning the next recipe. Cashews instead of hazelnuts? Raisins this time? It’s an amazing recipe, but there’s always room for change. I love that.

Want to try it for yourself? Here’s the recipe!

3 cups rolled oats
1 cup sliced almonds
1 cup sliced hazelnuts
3/4 cup wheat germ
1/4 cup sunflower seeds
1/4 cup sesame seeds
1/3 cup brown sugar

Combine all of the above in a large bowl.

1/2 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup vegetable oil
3/4 tsp salt

Combine the above, then pour onto the dry mix. Pour the mix onto a cookie sheet and bake for 1 hour at 250 F, stirring every 15 minutes.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION:

You can see more of Anne’s writing and photography and hear about her travels on her personal profile in the Matador Travel community. And if you’d like to submit a photo of your own, take a look at submission guidelines.

So I began documenting my life with photos this past Saturday. Since then, I’ve had some really lovely, relaxing days, but I can’t say anything of huge import and significance happened. We didn’t hike the Incan trials of Peru. There were no death defying adventure treks. The best moment of my weekend involved a little yoga and a really excellent cup of coffee while swinging in the hammock.

But isn’t that what so much of our lives tend to be? We have our highs and lows, but in between, there are what I like to call the ordinary everyday joys.

I’ll Show You A Couple of Mine

I bought this pepper plant at the Salta municipal market about two months ago. Until recently, I’d always lived in apartments and small spaces, so the idea of growing a plant and actually watch it sprout something edible amazes me.

The bushy plant behind the pepper is thyme. I plucked some leaves from it to use in a pinto I made for lunch.

Silly little finger puppet. We had Couchsurfers from Portugal staying with us this weekend. They made these puppets with Lila — my five year old — while I chopped the garlic and thyme. The puppet was a decoration for a birthday present. We went to three, yes, three little girls’ birthday parties this weekend.

Now Show Us Yours

We here at Matador Life want to know more about what happens day-to-day in the lives of our readers and our community, so we’re calling for Matadorians to send in photos and share with us the things — big or small — that are important to you. We’ll post our favorites here on Matador Life.

How To Submit: Choose a photo and email your image to leigh@matadornetwork. Your photo should be at least 1000 pixels at its largest dimension. Tell us a little about the day it was taken. Please use This Is What I Did Today! in your subject line.

Also include: Your Matador ID name and personal website.

Due Date: Ongoing project. Keep ‘em coming.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION:

Photo by skitzitilby/Feature Photo by pedrosimoes7

How often I forget that although my heart is young, my body isn’t. My weak ankle turns, reminding me how once I hopped, skipped and jumped through Calgary, Jaipur and downtown Aswan. Today, high curbs are my Katmandu. Our planet is a cook book and years of sampling its secrets has taken a toll on my midriff.

I carry the physical traits of the Wilcox women, but my wanderlust comes from the men folk. Their foreign travels were done in the name of War. Great Granfer Baker fought in the Sudan. Great Granny had never heard of London let alone Africa.

Great Granfer’s son fought in Gallipoli, convalesced in Alexandria and on the island of Malta. His journal means more to me than gold when I used it as a guidebook holidaying in Valletta in my twenties where I literally followed his steps. The poppies waving in the breeze along my path were borne from the seeds of the poppies he passed.

My father fought in Burma, was a POW in Changhai. Tears caught my throat when many years later I stood where he almost died in Singapore.

He stood with the British Army in Israel when they were handed their Mandate in 1948. When I voiced an interest in visiting Israel in the seventies, my mother was totally against it. My father told me to go.

“The Jewish are the friendliest people I know,” he said as he gave me a handful of addresses, just in case!

He served in India for many years and loved the country with a passion. I asked him once “Why?” He had no words for me other than to say it was a country that buries itself deep in the soul. He died before I managed to visit, and I never had a chance to share my own infatuation with him.

Photo by M@ruteclea

Travel to me is as gin to an addict. In my twenties, thirties and forties, I trekked solo to thirty two countries. My thirst could not be quenched, but I am slowing down now. Age and money supersede my desire to travel.

In my head, I can still climb the Himalayas and backpack down any river in the world. At 54, though, my back aches from chopping wood for our wood burning stove. My spine shouts at me after a day planting potatoes and other veggies. We have money to pay the bills and put food on the table but not to travel.

“Where shall we go next?” I ask my partner Paul, who ponders awhile before replying “Tunis.” Out comes the photo album and a bottle of Don Mendo red. I look at the photo of myself and a camel at the edge of the Sahara and am reminded of my egg timer.

“We’ll go places again,” he says thoughtfully, unable to answer when I ask when.

You twenty-somethings of today stand at the edge of the world. You can visit Patagonia, a place we didn’t even know existed. You can canoe the Amazon. A teen in south London thirty years ago had as good a chance of going to the moon. And with a fistful of dollars, you can go anywhere, and when the pocket runs bare, you can tend bar or shear sheep to pay your way.

I don’t doubt that you have your challenges, but they are more easily faced when you are twenty or thirty than when you are fifty. I envy the young people of today.

I visited my mum in London recently. She still lives in the same house where she grew up. I took her out for walks in her wheelchair, and as we went along, she spotted things like blades of grass springing through the pavement, an early crocus, an unusual air conditioning box outside a building. She noticed a lady with a hem falling down.

She encouraged me to see simple, every day things differently. Thus, I saw the things that connect. I saw my own area with new eyes.

Travel isn’t just a fortnight kayaking down the Amazon. It can be a day right outside my door. At 54, I must leave my youth behind and adjust to the maturity of being a golden oldie. The adventures are there; they are just a little different.

My egg timer fills not with sandy particles but with the all the travel experiences that have enriched my life.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION

How do you define travel? Has this definition changed over the years? Share your answer with us in the comments below.

Photo by tanakawho

 
There’s something irresistibly satisfying about checking off an item on our to-do list. It’s the feeling of productivity, accomplishment and the knowledge you’ve freed up an afternoon to do something fun, like watch soaps in your pajamas…or get more work done.

Doing it wrong. Photo by Candice Walsh

But most of us seem to keep lists for everything, and the compulsion borders on obsession. In fact, take this conversation between Matador Life’s editor Leigh Shulman and I which exemplifies the insanity of list-makers:
 

 Leigh: I came to the realization that I need to update my to-do list and separate it into four lists for each of my main projects. If someone would pay me to update my own to-do list, I could make a full time job out of it.

 Candice: I’m the same way, lists written everywhere. My friend once told me I should write a list of reasons why I like making lists.

While browsing through a bookstore the other day, I came across a book titled Listography. The whole idea is actually based on the website, where people can sign up for “life in lists.” There’s everything from “people who have changed my life” to “websites with the best animals.” My only question is how did I not find this site earlier?

Weekend Wish List. Photo by Carina Port

Then there’s the curious question of what our lists say about us. What do we place at the top? Why do we prefer handwritten vs digital, or vice versa? Perhaps the following will enlighten.

 
The Digital List

Pros
-You’re being environmentally friendly
-Quick and easy editing
-The ability to update and keep track of your list via email, so it’s with you almost always
-Store a list on your phone, complete with reminder alerts to keep you on your toes
-The satisfaction of deleting tasks entirely
 
Cons
-They lack personal touch
-If you switch back and forth between computers, things get complicated
-You can’t express your creativity through doodling
 

New Years Resolution list of short and long term goals. Photo by Susan Forshner

The Handwritten List

Pros
-You can stick it in a backpack or purse and carry it anywhere
-If you have an affinity for stationery, fancy pens are a bonus

Photo by JoAnna Haugen

-You can keep all the lists in a journal
-Striking out a task with a flourish of the wrist is fun

Cons
-They’re easily misplaced
-Paper causes unnecessary clutter
-You’ll inevitably start a dozen different lists and start sticking them around your workspace

(And yes, I’m aware those were lists.)

Some websites even like to capitalize on our OCD behavior by offering spreadsheets and organizational tools for download, such as Productive Flourishing and Four Hour Work Week. These websites encourage being aware of your goals, setting the bar high, and getting stuff done. Productive Flourishing even offers “momentum coaching,” a process meant to generate new ideas and develop brainstorming methods. What does all this say about list-makers? We’re brilliant, obviously. Sometimes we just need a push.

Community Connection

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.
 

Feature by MiiiSH. Above by enfad

I remember sitting there, waiting for the instructor to begin my first yoga class. I wasn’t sure what to expect, was apprehensive about whether or not I’d be able to physically complete the poses — called asanas — and wondered if my body could handle it.

Now, almost twenty years later, I realize my concerns were for nothing. In fact, yoga teaches you how to feel discomfort, walk into situations where you don’t know what you’re doing and how to move your way through life with greater ease. This is what I’ve learned.

All Bodies Are Beautiful

Have you ever taken an Ashtanga class? I don’t mean ashtanga-based, but the real deal hard core ashtanga series.

It’s non-stop movement from asana to asana, and each pose requires lots of jumping, lifting, extreme balance and strength.

As you make your way through this grueling class, you find yourself marveling at how the bodies in the room move. You stop judging, noticing extra flesh or worrying what other people think and instead start to find extra space in your joints and marvel at the strength in your muscles. When you walk out, you will literally feel a greater confidence in the way you feel, stand and are.

Sometimes You Fall On Your Ass

Everyone looks ridiculous at some point while in yoga class, and chances are, you’ll end up falling many, many times. Try tree pose, crow pose or peacock, all of which ask you to balance precariously on some body part or another. In the same way, you’ll make mistakes at work, yell needlessly at your partner and forget to pay your health insurance bill.

Photo by Lululemon

It’s going to happens sometimes, maybe often, and the sooner you get used to it, learn how to laugh through it, the happier you’ll be.

You Can’t Do Everything

Fifteen years of practice, and I still cannot do a full back bend from standing. I’ve tried, I’ve done preparatory stretches to make my back more limber. I’ve tried abdominal strengthening postures to develop the necessary strength. Yet it still hasn’t happened for me.

I know one day I will eventually do it, but even so, there will be another pose, something else I won’t be able to complete. Yoga always presents you with another challenge.

You Achieve Your Goals Faster When You Don’t Force Things

We live in a world where we’re supposed to struggle and constantly move forward, but sometimes it’s better to just let your mind and body rest.

Try a seated forward bending pose. You sit legs straight in front of you and reach gently toward your toes until you feel the stretch. Now, if you attempt to make your body move more deeply into the pose by pushing and straining, you’re more likely to hurt yourself or get discouraged than reach past your ankles.

Instead, just sit in one place and breath for a slow count of twenty. I promise, by the time you reach your final number, you will be reaching more deeply than when you began. Often, farther than you thought you could go.

Consistent Practice Is More Important Than the End Goal

You’ve probably noticed I refer to yoga as a practice.

Photo by Axel Buhrmann

That’s because it’s meant to be something you do every day. Same applies to your life. Are you frustrated with your boss? Do you wish you didn’t watch so much TV at night? Would you like to take a dance class, but don’t know when, where or how?

Do just a bit today and again tomorrow, and you’ll find the effects cumulative. Over time, you stand a little taller, breath a little deeper and perhaps face the rest of your life with more confidence. You realize you have no where in particular to go, you’re already exactly where you are and need to be.

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Share with us the lessons and benefits you’ve found in your yoga practice. Or if you don’t yet have one and would like to, search for the perfect yoga retreat or begin a vipassana meditation practice. In the meantime, here’s some great advice from Christine Garvin to help you survive the holidays with a little extra calm.

Feature photo by Aperte. Above photo by Bandita.

Someone always wants something. “Mommy, I can’t find my shoes.” Is the article done yet? Lord, I really should get to the gym today. You have a lot to do. There’s always a lot on your list. There will probably always be a lot on your list.

And that is why those dishes remain in the sink, mocking you. Worst part? The second you clean them, they immediately begin to multiply. Like laundry. Like dirty floors. Clean is only the first step on the way to dirty.

But dishes still have to be done. This is how I do them.

FIRST: I put on a pair of thick rubber gloves, to protect yourself from pruney fingers and scalded skin.

SECOND: Turn on the music. Make sure it’s something that really gets you going.

Oh, you’re telling me you don’t have any great music for that. Take a moment to explore music from around the world. Stack your ipod with fresh beats.

Do away with your excuses and turn on your favorite music, loud.

This is no time to worry about permanent ear damage. Stop thinking about your deadlines. If the baby cries, you won’t be able to hear her anyway. It’s only fifteen minutes. This is as good a time as any to give yourself permission to stop worrying about every other thing in your life.

Then I begin. Water on hot hot hot because that scrapes of the muck most quickly. Wet everything down, start scrubbing. It’s just you, music and dishes.

By now you should be dancing around the kitchen, trying the latest move you learned in belly dancing class. Oh, sorry, you haven’t been? Maybe now is the time to start? You know you’ve always wanted to try belly dancing.

Eventually I flip off my shoes, and I’m swinging barefoot around the kitchen. It’s great, too, if you happen to be wearing a flouncy skirt, because when you twirl around it flares outward.

Photo by Hankish

If you’re saying, I’m a man, I don’t wear skirts, I’m going to tell you to just shut up. Shut up now. Why are you creating more I-Can’ts?

Have you ever tried a flouncy skirt? Maybe something shiny, bubbly. Maybe try it with a shiny blue wig to match. Have you seen the men at Burning Man?

Soap the silverware and plates, put them aside. Then onto the cups and do another twirl around before the bowls.

You are an Arabe queen in your jingly skirt. You are a capoiera master flying through the air, the sexiest tango dancer on the block. You are a fire god, a water goddess rinsing away suds in time to the beat.

What? You’re embarrassed of dancing in public? Who cares? Certainly not you. Not a whit, not a bit. You’re just there to glide through life, move around, play and have fun.

Before you know it, your dishes are done.