Until yesterday, I had never consistently ran to — or away — from something for 34 minutes at once.

Let’s be honest, the most (and fastest) I ever ran was not for fun, but for evading about-to-be-uncaged dogs in a Merida, Mexico neighborhood, during which I clocked myself on a power line pole and had to explain to the eyeglass shop employees (in my limited Spanish) that “Mis gafas están rotas. ¿Puede usted ayudarme?” and spent the rest of the trip with vision askew.

But I digress.

Yesterday, I’m still not sure that I ran “for fun.” But I ran voluntarily and I ran without stopping. Eleven minute miles sure aren’t impressive, especially not to the two kids trucking that 5K in six minute increments, but for me it was never about the time.

It was about the doing.

To show you what I mean, here’s a synopsis of my thoughts, probably not unique to any runner ever but certainly new to me:

Mile 1: Holy cow, I just did that! This isn’t so bad.

Between mile 1 and 2: Hey, all these people are passing me… doesn’t matter! Keep going, keep going.

Mile 2: Good grief that took a long time. And, holy heck I STILL HAVE 1+ MILE TO GO.

Mile 2.5: When is this going to end?! Get me out of my brain please!

Mile 3: I’m almost there? I’m almost there! Walking’s not an option, YOU’VE GOT THIS.

Right before the finish line: Get it GURL! (Yes, my inner monologue sometimes sends me texts like a teenager.)

And like a freaking gazelle, as if I was finishing the most epic race of my life, I sprinted past a handful of folks to clock in at 34:04. I placed in the 28th percentile of all females, which is to say I finished.

My feet, suddenly realizing we were done, flapped the ground like a tap dancer. Mechanically, I walked and kept walking and vaguely saw cameras flashing and bagels I couldn’t eat (because I’m vegan) and some guy handed me a tote bag.

You runners sure have a unique way of saying congratulations.

Um, where’s the yoga in all this?

Two weeks ago I simultaneously found out about and volunteered to take a coworker’s place in the Colfax 5K in Denver. The universe didn’t forget that a year ago I set an intention to run a 5K before I turned 30.

Except, I always thought I’d train for one. Last year, I actually started to until I psyched myself out as my knees began to ache and my lungs began to burn. I convinced myself I just wasn’t a “runner.”

For me, running a 5K was about overcoming the brain’s barrier of “no you can’t” when my body clearly could. I know how to find my edge and move through it on the yoga mat. On the trail? Not so much.

The turning point came this past week when several people told me to set a pace for myself that was independent of others’. In other words, forget what everyone else is doing and run your own race. (click to tweet!)

Bingo — it’s exactly what I teach to my yoga students. No judgment, no comparing, just you and your breath.

With the race looming, I had no choice to do anything but. I ran/walked in short spurts with Willow over the past week and ate an avocado the night before the race. These were things I was told are good to do if you want to be a “runner.”

Until the race kick-off at 9 a.m., I still didn’t know what I was doing in the crowd.

You are a …

If you frequently tell yourself “I’m not a … [runner, yogi/yogini, insert-what-you-think-you're-not-here]” all it takes is one action to prove yourself wrong.

You know the excuses you have for yourself. They’re the reason why you think you’re just not flexible (at all or enough) to practice or teach yoga; the reason why you don’t just book the plane ticket and go; the reason why you give up before you start.

But then the race kicks off and you are ushered along by thousands of feet. And you keep going because those feet keep going. And suddenly, you are a runner.

You are a runner if you run. You are a yogi or yogini if you do yoga. It’s that simple.

It doesn’t matter if you finish in 544th place because it is never about the end. It is always about the process.

I finished my 5K because of three things, and you can steal them for whatever “I’m not a…” excuse you have:

1. Find a support system. Mine was the aforementioned slipstream of fellow runners, coworkers and strangers who periodically rooted me on.
2. Stay present. This moment, and this moment, and this moment of feet hitting pavement.
3. Train your mind, through yoga, to listen less to the voice who says “you can’t” and pay more attention to the voice who knows you can.

After all, there is no room for self doubt in a mind that knows the only option is to keep going. 

Try it: Half Splits Pose, Ardha Hanumanasana

I may not have been the fastest in the 5K, but I’ll be darned if my breath wasn’t one of the smoothest and that’s something I credit 100% to my yoga practice. I rediscovered my breath on the yoga mat doing asanas like Half Splits Pose, coincidentally a great pose for us runners (yep, I said it!).

Little dogs like to stretch their little legs, too, so don’t leave out those furry four-legged running friends.

1. Kneel on your mat with knees under your hips and hands on each hip.
2. Step your left leg forward, planting the heel on the mat and engaging the left toes back for your face. Keep a soft bend in this knee at all times. Square your hips by drawing the left hip back and right hip slightly forward.
3. Inhale and lengthen the tailbone down, engaging the belly button toward the spine.
4. Exhale and hinge from your hips, leading with the chest and maintaining a long, lengthened spine. Fold forward as much as is comfortable, until you feel a deep stretch on the left hamstring. Place your palms on your left thigh, or reach your fingertips to the ground on either side of the lengthened leg.
5. Stay for 8 to 10 deep and slow breaths, washing away discomfort with your exhales. You may find that you can hinge deeper into your fold as the leg muscles release.
6. Inhale and lift out of the pose, drawing the left heel in and returning to kneeling. Repeat on the other side.

One of the best things my mom ever did for me was probably the hardest for her.

While I was deep in depression during high school, she tried her hardest to motivate me to show up on time. Mornings were the worst, with a close second being right before I went to bed, followed by everything in between.

One evening, after I sullenly refused to eat dinner (oh yes, hunger strikes were my thing) she broke her usual cycle of trying.

She came upstairs and, standing in the door frame of my room, took a risk:

“Every time I bend over backwards for you — well, this time I’m not gonna do it.”

And then she left.

I sucked in my breath. This wasn’t what I was used to hearing. This was important. Like a journalist who latches on to the perfect pull quote during an interview, I got out a Post-It and scribbled down her words.

In that declaration of non-help, I began to see my mom as a person — not just as a total giver of self, but as a separate self. A self whom I made suffer because of my own inescapable suffering.

This was the seed in my depressed teenage mind: You and your inner world is not all that is. There are others here, too. Pay attention to them.

My mom taught me that sometimes you need to walk away in order to help others move forward.

The first 2 steps

It’s hard to walk away when your loved ones are hurting. Even harder to know when you can do this safely. But if my mom hadn’t stepped aside when she did, my self-pity cycle would have taken longer to break.

I didn’t know about yoga when I was 17, but if I had I’d have done two things differently: 1. Realize that my 24/7 melancholy headspace was a temporary sensation, and 2. Take a cue from my mom and literally bend over backwards so she didn’t have to do it for me.

From those less-than-ideal growing pains comes my current prescription for every day doldrums:

1. Don’t let your identity be ruled by your current emotions, and
2. Move that body in a way it’s not used to moving.

It’s really that simple — and difficult at the same time. The first because you don’t just wake up one day and disassociate with all your emotions. The second because a body at rest tends to stay at rest.

But if you can think “I am not this” the next time you’re mired deep and if you can come to the mat for just 10 minutes (let it be cats/cows, bridges and cobras) — bye bye, doldrums.

Step number 3

There’s a third step, of course, because steps come better in three’s: Nothing is permanent.

Since I was a child, I’ve created moments of tiny, pinpointed clarity that made me feel special. Like the imaginary horse that trotted alongside the school bus and could only touch grass. Hop, driveway. Hop, sidewalk. Hop, intersection.

I still have moments like these but they’re based in reality. Just the other day, sitting upstairs with a Rocky Mountain view, I spotted a black bird perched on a power line. Who else was looking at this bird right now? And so the game begins.

If you play along, you start to notice not just your role in the looking, but the looking itself. Little bird balancing on a swinging wire. What is he doing there? What does it look like from his perspective?

And then I feel small. Smaller than small. I realize that life goes on around me always and I notice maybe .00000000001% of it. If I’m lucky.

I start to wonder when the bird will fly away. I’m worried where he will go. How long will he survive off the safety of the wire?

I blink and then he’s gone. And I frown because I didn’t notice him leave.

You can’t let your birds stick around too long if they’re holding you back. Doldrums usually come along and pinky promise they’ll be your best friend, but don’t believe them.

It’s time to take a cue from mom and walk away.

Altogether now: the 3 steps to evade every day doldrums:

1. Don’t let your identity be ruled by your current emotions.
2. Move that body in a way it’s not used to moving.
3. Remember, nothing is permanent.

Try it: Happy Baby Pose, Ananda Balasana

Tap into that new babe energy where doldrums have no place with Happy Baby Pose. Just like it sounds, I like to remind myself in this posture that when I was a newborn, I delighted in touching my toes.

And even better, I didn’t need strategies to be happy: I just was.

1. Lie on your back and bend your knees into your chest. Move your knees toward your armpits as you reach for the outer edges of the feet. Gently press your elbows on the insides of the legs as you hook your fingertips on the bottoms of the feet.
2. Elongate the spine by pressing the pelvis down into the mat. Allow the shoulders and back of the head to rest on the mat. Take a deep breath in as you press feet into fingers and work the knees toward your armpits.
3. If you like, roll gently side to side on the low back. Take 6 smooth inhales and exhales and consciously loosen your grip on the feet to soften the arms.
4. Release your grip on a exhale and bring the knees back into the chest. Encircle your arms around your legs to give yourself a squeeze before rolling to one side and coming back up to seated.

If we’re not careful, we can micromanage the meaning of our lives.

When you start to pay attention to how you show up in the world each day, even the minutiae takes on meaning. Living our lives in constant search of a sign or a greater meaning isn’t sustainable. In fact, it’s downright exhausting.

For us yogis and yoginis who try to decipher meaning out of every moment, these traps are dangerous:

• “I didn’t have the motivation to practice today. It must not really matter to me.”

• “My hips hurt in Pigeon Pose. What deep emotional barrier am I holding on to?”

• “My body just doesn’t bend that way. Why is this part of my path?”

Unless your gut tells you otherwise, often we spend more time trying to fabricate problems where they are none. Like new parents who seek to apply meaning to every “first” of their child’s lives, we can worry ourselves into creating meaning that doesn’t exist.

In the practice of yoga, does everything have to mean something?

Sometimes lacking motivation to practice yoga asana means you might not have slept well the night before.

Sometimes tight hips mean you sat all day, not that you’re emotionally repressed.

Sometimes it takes awhile for our bodies to become flexible (and for our minds to accept this fact.)

If it’s simple, allow it to be simple.

This is what it means

What we’re really doing on our quest to define our lives is choosing to resist or flow.

Practicing yoga and meditation helps to smooth this resistance: the mind’s peaks and valleys. A consistent practice, even just 10 minutes a day, can rewire old posture and mental patterns so we experience less of the “what does it all mean?!” moments in favor of the “huh, so this is what it means.”

I used to have only a handful of “this” moments, most of them as a child talking to God in the woods behind my house. Now, I have them every week thanks to yoga. If you’ve got them going every day, you and me — we should talk!

“This” is the feeling you get after not having seen a dear friend for years — then picking up right where you left off. “This” means the mind goes off autopilot. “This” is the moment when everything is going to be okay.

But make no mistake: Believing that everything happens for a reason can be a cop out. It can lead you to self-defeat or simply make you complacent.

I mean, how many times have we blamed our misfortunes on “well, I guess it was supposed to work out that way”? I know I have, not coincidentally when I was depressed.

The moment we realize that we make life, not that life makes us, everything changes.

It’s not that things all of a sudden work out a thousand times better; it’s that we become present to the good in each situation.

The next time you’re quick to judge yourself or others, plant the seed: Maybe what’s happening just is. And if there is a greater purpose, let it be for the good of all involved.

In the end, I guess everything does mean something… depending on the meaning you choose to give it.

What will you pay attention to today?

Try it: Virasana, Hero’s Pose, with Tucked Toes and Eagle Arms

This pose can look deceptively simple, but you know how that goes. Often, the things that appear effortless require the most effort. In this case, effort to stay with the pose and not judge yourself when your brain is screaming to get you out.

Instead, practice recognizing the good of the pose hidden in the discomfort.

Know that while this pose may open up tension you may not have felt before (especially in those toes!), you control the flow. Lean forward to take the pressure off, lean back to add it.

Adding Eagle Arms here gives the mind something else to focus on while you breathe into your “toga.”

1. From Tabletop position on hands and knees, curl the toes under. Lean back on your heels and place your palms on your thighs. The more you lean back on the toes, the more of a deep stretch you’ll feel. Take a few deep breaths here to ease into the sensation and determine if the ache is truly painful or just uncomfortable. Adjust accordingly.
2. Bring your right arm up 90 degrees in front of you, fingertips spread. Inhale and sweep your left elbow underneath the right and gently pressing the back of the left hand against the right. Bring your elbows up shoulder height and squeeze your elbows together.
3. With the elbows lifted, roll your shoulders down and back and gently move the belly button in to the spine so your shoulders are stacked over the hips. Stay for three to five deep breaths.
4. Exhale and unwind your arms. Plant your palms down on the mat in front of you and lift and release the toes behind you. Allow blood to rush back into the knees and toes before beginning again, this time crossing the left elbow underneath the right.
5. When finished, rest in Child’s Pose, Balasana.

Yoga creates opportunities to be okay with who you are and where you are right now.

But sometimes we become so complacent with where we are that we fail to see the small superficial tweaks that can make all the difference in our happiness.

Like cutting bangs.

Oh yes, I went there. Yesterday, after two years of stylist surfing and not caring about my hair’s appearance, I found the perfect match. Coincidence that she’s a Kundalini yoga instructor?

A lot of us who follow the yogic path often downplay our looks because we know that ultimately the body will fade. In the same breath we talk about self love, but we often only love parts of ourselves (e.g. our spirits) and hold dissatisfaction against the rest (e.g. our bodies).

Do you really, right now, love everything about yourself? Maybe the better question is: Do you really want to love yourself or are you convinced it will never happen?

Maybe you just need a change. A superficial, physical change that can shake up that internal energy and replace it with the spunk of being You.

When I walked out of the salon yesterday, I felt like I tapped into that secret superpower. Suddenly, this new, improved Caren could do anything because hair was hiding her forehead.

But it’s not the haircut. (Okay, it’s partially the haircut.)

You don’t need anybody’s permission to feel better about who you are and where you are right now.

You just need your own.

The view from the outside

Whether you’re teaching or practicing yoga, it’s impossible to get everything aligned. There’s bound to be a rib or a toe or a breath out of place.

The trick is not to look the part. The trick is to be the part.

To understand that you and others will inevitably move into and out of alignment — just like the planets and traffic patterns and how you feel about yourself — is to plant the seed for happiness.

There are times when you look in the mirror and don’t like what you see.

That’s okay.

There are times when you play catch up with your exhales and times when you can’t seem to take enough inhales.

That’s okay.

There are moments of myopic gazing and wishing you knew then what you know now.

But if you wish you had done something sooner you’re forgetting about the necessary process  that brought you to a space of actually doing something. These moments are signposts for your life’s deeper journey.

Remember: Pain is a precursor to growth.

The view from the inside

I’m always coaching my yoga students to drop judgements about their bodies and what they “should” look like, so I feel a little odd about my new hairstyle love affair. Am I placing too much emphasis on the physical? Am I being superficial?

No. And don’t let yourself even go there. We are a beauty-driven people and for good reason: It can be an ugly world.

Here’s my perspective. However you choose to appear in the world, take care of your body in relation to your mind. Before considering a physical or soul-level makeover, ask yourself:

• Am I truly stuck because of my body or because of my perspective about my body?
• Will this bring me greater happiness or is this just a quick fix, non-lasting solution?
• Do I really want this for me or because someone else wants it for me?
• Am I a tiny bit scared about the consequences? (If yes, you’re on to something.)
• What’s the worst thing that could happen?

I asked myself this last question right before my hairstylist/yoga teacher/new friend snipped my bangs.

The answer? Like a starfish, you can always grow it back.

Try it: Gate Pose, Parighasana

This pose stretches the hamstrings, torso and spine, but more important than these is it feels gloriously great. Like, “I’m so glad I did that even though it was kind of uncomfortable at the time” great.

In other words, pretty much like any new change in your life — whether superficial or not.

1. Kneel in the center of your yoga mat, hands on your hips (pad your knees if necessary). Step your right leg to the side, toes pointing forward and all four corners of the foot anchored on the mat. Align the toe or inner arch with the left knee and ensure your left hip remains above your left knee.
2. Drop your right hip down so that your hip points are level, using your hands as a guide. Inhale your left arm up and lengthen the pelvis down. Exhale and slide your right hand down the leg as you reach for the ceiling with your left fingertips.
3. Take a smooth inhalation to lift the right side body; exhale and root into the outer edge of the right foot as you extend through the fingertips. Breathe into the inner right thigh and soften your shoulder blades down the back.
4. Stay for six deep breaths. Inhale and sweep your left arm back up, then place your hands back on your hips. Step your right leg back in and pause for a breath before moving to the other side.

Sometimes the simplest things can be the most difficult.

• Like responding with kindess when someone meets you with anger.
• Like letting go of the fact that sometimes there’s nothing you can do to make it better.
• Like accepting that you can look externally for help and guidance but the person who’s got to do the work? You.

Also, like Warrior I.

All of these are relatively simple decisions. In the case of Warrior I, step right foot forward, turn back toes our 45 degrees, lunge into front knee, arms up. Done, right?

But then there’s that whole “squaring the hips forward” part. And the awkward sensation in your back knee. And the lunge in your front leg feeling more like a nudge. And, and, and… soon we’re avoiding the pose just like we avoid changing behaviors we’re none too proud of.

Unfortunately, avoiding doesn’t delay suffering; it involves suffering.

And we’re back to where we began. The simplest of decisions to avoid pain and problems leads to a buildup of hurt because:

• It’s difficult to diffuse when others are shouting.
• It’s easy to hold on to suffering because we feel a sense of connection by commiserating with others.
• It’s routine to hold others responsible for our reality (the blame game) rather than say “I’m sorry.”

Warrior I — or any yoga pose you find challenging — isn’t going to make any of these directly easier, per se. Except collectively, and inevitably, they do. It all starts in the mind’s reaction.

Befriend your brain

Our brains are always on. Think about that for a minute: Your brain never takes a break. Even when you’re sleeping, the darned thing keeps on keepin’ on.

And thank goodness for that or we wouldn’t have consciousness as we know it. But our brains also present our minds with a built-in challenge: They detect negative information faster than positive, say the authors of Buddha’s Brain: The Practical Neuroscience of Happiness, Love & Wisdom.

Our “negativity bias” is so strong that Dr. John Gottman, known for his research on marital stability and divorce prediction, has found that it takes five positive interactions to overcome the effects of a single negative one.

Certainly this plays out in relationships with others. It also occurs in our relationship with self. We often miss the small wins because we’re too focused on everything we “can’t” be or everything we’re doing “wrong.”

But as Buddha’s Brain points out, your brain may have gotten you into this mess but you can get the brain out of it.

Here’s the deal: Today, you are creating You.

According to the authors, a typical neuron, of which you have 100 billion, fires 5-50 times per second. And neurons on average have 5,000 connections, or synapses with other neurons. That is a whole heck of a lot of opportunity at any moment for you to begin anew in the brain, and subsequently in the mind.

But how? Examine your reactions. This constantly shifting brain and world can only be corralled by how we choose to react to it.

Yoga is not what you do

I’ll never forget the time I came to terms with Warrior I.

My mat was rolled out on the sideline of a basketball court in an elementary school gym. Master yogi Saul David Raye walked through about 50 or so of us and guided us into stillness, except I was moving.

The best I can do with words: I stopped thinking about it. I just was. And Warrior I flowed effortlessly. All because of this from Saul:

Yoga is not what you do, but what you make. (tweet it!)

When you step onto your mat or sit in meditation, you’re transforming yourself through mind/body alchemy. We may put ourselves in difficult situations on and off the mat, but what matters is how you show up — rather than avoid — the unpleasant conversation or the very idea that you can be anything you want to be.

Say Buddha’s Brain neuroscientists: There are 10 to the millionth power possible combinations of neurons firing or not in your brain. Possible combinations of atoms in the universe? 10 to the eightieth power.

Do overs are not just reserved for playgrounds. They occur with every synapse and, likewise, every time you don’t “do” yoga.

Our vast mental universes mean ample opportunity to shape them, and in turn shape ourselves, however we want. And it’s not difficult. It’s simply returning — awakening! — to the You you’ve been all along.

What You will you create today?

Try it: Warrior I, Virabhadrasana I

Ah, Warrior I. It’s interesting how the first in the series of Warriors is so most difficult for so many. We’re used to things with a “one” after them being simplest, but in yoga, all poses are game for ease or effort. Tackle this one with a mindset of ease.

Note: It’s not uncommon to tweak your knee in this pose, especially in the standing back leg. For this reason, if this pose is painfully uncomfortable (not just awkward) stick with Crescent Lunge instead.

1. Stand in Mountain Pose, Tadasana at the top of your mat. Exhale and step your left leg back about four feet and turn the toes outward 45 degrees. With both legs nearly straight, take your hands to your hips and rotate your right hip back and left hip forward. If you find your hips are not squaring over the front leg, try stepping your left foot farther to the left. Anchor into the outer edge of your left foot so as not to collapse the arch.
2. On another exhale lunge into your right knee, tracking the knee toward the pinky toe side of the foot and directly over the ankle. If the knee moves past the ankle, inch your right foot forward. Protect your back knee by maintaining a slight bend in the joint.
3. Traditional Warrior I has your arms reaching straight up overhead, palms facing one another. If you do this, extend through your fingers but soften your shoulder blades down and together on the back. Otherwise, clasp your arms together behind you as I’ve done here. This variation helps you focus more on the legs and squaring of the hips.
4. Breathe for 4 to 6 even inhalations and exhalations, continuing to square the hips and firm the low belly into the spine.
5. Release your arms back to your hips and straighten your right leg. Turn the toes both to the left and bring your heels into alignment. Rest for a few breaths in this standing wide-legged pose before turning your left toes to the back of your mat and repeating the pose on this side.

This week, I had a lot of “oh shit” moments.

At the top of the list was hurtling down a steep, slick mountain face and realizing that if I so much as acknowledged the thought of losing control, I would.

Skiing for me is a mixture of flying, freedom and fear. There’s an immense amount of trust involved in one’s abilities after you graduate from the bunny hill. Let yourself down and there’s a potential big price to pay, including a hospital bill.

Ninety-nine percent of the time I’m speeding across snow with no worries. Losing my balance, fear and falling down live in the 1 percent. But I got sick of falling and sick of getting hurt, so here’s what that half-second inner voice now says to fear:

Oh shit… No! Caren, you’ve got this, you’ve got this, YOU’VEGOTTHIS.

I pull through every time (and yes, I use 3rd person and all caps).

I pull through because I believe I can, and because I’ve laid down the law energetically. Our bodies need a champion in order to mobilize from falling.

The actual work to get back on course is much simpler once you think you can.

Mental mountains

When you’re all alone on the side of a mountain, it becomes abundantly clear that you’ve got to get your act together because no one will for you.

A lot of us recreate this sense of immediacy on our yoga mats. We think we’re not “doing” yoga if we don’t perform the poses like the pictures. Then, when our bodies don’t respond to our expectations, we perceive a deficiency.

We see something to work on or work toward, rather than something to let go.

On the yoga mat our “oh shit” moments are much more subtle. Thankfully, we get more than a half-second to decide how to react. Often, the falling down isn’t a face plant — it’s the opposite: a deep unraveling of all the emotions that strive to hold us together.

In other words, the yoga mat (not a mountainside) is a safe place to fall apart, if fall apart you must.

Which brings us to the most obvious emotional falling apart: When’s the last time you cried?

‘Oh shit’ mat moments

I cried today. I hadn’t for a while, and I used to think that not crying was a measure of how happy I was. Of course, this was when depression had the tears flowing on the daily, so any prolonged break from salty cheeks didn’t go unnoticed.

So, I cried.

And maybe you cried or have cried recently.

An interesting thing happens when we revisit feelings or memories we spend so much time trying to avoid. We realize that these things don’t just live up in our heads. They manifest in our bodies.

Few yoga asanas make this connection clearer than backbends and hip openers, especially when combined like Half Bow Pose, a prep for Bow Pose. No wonder: It’s vulnerable to open your heart and hips on oh-so-many levels.

When “oh shit” happens on the mat, tears absorb into rubber. Sometimes we don’t even know what they’re for or why they’re present.

It’s difficult because none of us like to fall apart. But if we don’t, we’d never get to practice how to be our own champions.

Your yoga practice is about blanketing yourself in hope so that when you feel overwhelmed and like you’re losing it, you have a sacred space that reminds you everything is going to be okay.

YOU’VEGOTTHIS starts on the mat.

How to: Half Bow Pose variation, Ardha Dhanurasana

For many of my students (and often to me) Bow Pose feels unattainable and effortful. It can feel like you’ve already fallen down and are powerless to get back up again.

To prep for the full thing, try this version of Half Bow Pose. Mini successes, such as capturing your foot with your hand and even lifting the chest in a slight spiral (rather than traditionally keeping your shoulders square) can help instill the confidence your body needs to open up.

1. Come into Sphinx Pose with your elbows beneath your shoulders, tailbone tucked and legs actively extended behind you, anchoring with the tops of the feet.
2. Inhale, bend the left knee and reach around with your left hand to capture the inside of the foot or the ankle. Exhale and press the foot or ankle into the hand. Keep the knee in line with your hip.
3. On your next inhale, energetically lift and firm the right upper arm into the shoulder socket, rolling the shoulder blades together on the back. Gently engage the right fingers and forearm on the mat to maintain your backbend and keep the right foot active and reaching back. Relax the back of your neck.
4. Allow your left shoulder to open to the side and the upper body to twist as you continue to press the left foot into your hand. Lift the belly button into the spine, but keep the abdomen soft to breathe deeply.
5. Take five breaths here and gently release your foot on an exhale. Return your left forearm next to your right and pause, or release down to your belly for a few breaths, before switching to the other side.

Solidarity time: Have you fallen apart on your yoga mat?

Living one’s yoga is one fess up after another.

I’m going to call myself out here, as uncomfortable as it is, and admit a pattern of mine that I’m not fond of (and no, it doesn’t include ending sentences with a preposition, but see how I cleverly got around that?).

I tend to like things done a certain way. 

You know, the small stuff. Thoroughly scraping out a food bowl to ensure nothing’s wasted. The toilet paper, unrolling from the top. Even Downward Facing Dog, taught and cued a specific way.

No problem there, right? We all have our preferences… until I hold others to the expectations of doing things the exact way I like them done, which usually doesn’t end well for all involved.

I didn’t realize the vast number of things I like done a certain way until I moved in with Evan last week. I’ve lived by myself (well, with Willow dog) for a long time. Enough time to develop some serious Single Girl Behaviors and not get called out on them

So it hit me two days ago that this concept of doing things “right” and doing things “wrong” is creating unnecessary conflict. And I realized:

You’re only doing something wrong if someone says you should be doing something right. (click to tweet)

Are you always right?

The most simple, mundane moments are catalysts for unhappy and happy momentum. The tone of our voices, our gestures, if we follow through with our promises or not — it’s open season when it comes to criticizing ourselves and others. And often, we do.

In some cases, we’re unaware of how our behaviors come across because, frankly, we’re used to us. Through our own lens, we’re right (well, most of the time, we justify) so there must be something wrong with them.

It’s a zero-sum game, this black and white operation of being right and expecting others to acquiesce.

I would never tell a yoga student to push themselves beyond their edge on the mat, so why do I often expect that of my loved ones?

Yoga reveals the “you-ness” in everyone else. Living your yoga is understanding that the rights and wrongs you impose on others are first and foremost imposed on yourself. And guess what? You can be your own undoing because of it.

This life and the people in yours are not controllable; this life is manifested. Everything is invited in or shut out when you place barriers on what is right and wrong.

Who or what do you want to invite in or shut out?

5 ways to curb the criticism

Your life’s fluidity comes down to your expectations. Can you let things slide, like cabinets not being closed right after they’re opened? (Again, a glimpse into my neuroses.)

The next time you’re tempted to stir up conflict, try one of these five simple awareness practices:

1. Be grateful. When something annoys you, recall something fantastic about the person, creature or thing that’s irritating you. I like to do this when my dog gets on a barking spree. My anger dissolves when I remember her morning cuddles.

2. Concede. Be wrong and be okay with it. On the small stuff, it may not be so important to be right when you’re making everyone else around you uncomfortable.

3. Ask yourself: Will what you’re about to say contribute to or detract from the happiness of all involved? This will stop lots of criticisms dead in their tracks.

4. Take a deep breath down into your soles, preferably with your feet firmly grounded. That’s it.

5. Make eye contact and really see (in a totally non-creepy way); it’ll soften things up every time. This goes for you, too, every time you beat yourself up for being “wrong” or doing something the “wrong” way. I hear pocket mirrors are making a comeback.

Changing your knee-jerk reactions to how you like things done isn’t an overnight thing. Neither is opening your side bodies and shoulders in the following yoga pose.

But these small mental and physical cues will go a long way to making certain that the only “certain” way things need to be done is neither right nor wrong. It just is.

Try it: Thread the Needle Pose

To me, the only “wrong” way to practice yoga is to completely take the intention and heart out of it. But even then, who am I to judge what yoga is and is not.

Nor should you judge yourself, no matter what yoga posture you find yourself in. Thread the Needle is one such pose that’s hard to tell if you’re doing it “right,” probably because your face is compressed on the mat.

Until you cultivate awareness of exactly where your limbs are in this pose, be grateful for where you’re at. And breathe from there.

1. Come to tabletop position with your hips over knees and shoulders over wrists.

2. Inhale, extending your right arm straight out to the side and exhale, threading it behind and past the left arm. Let the right arm rest on the ground with your right shoulder and right side of your face pressed gently against the mat.

3. Ensure your hips are aligned and not leaning to one side by placing your left hand on your sacrum to check the evenness of the low back. Plant the left palm back down and bend into the elbow, using the arm like a kickstand for leverage to deepen your side twist on the exhales. Or, extend the left arm toward the ceiling and behind you for a deeper shoulder stretch.

4. Soften your neck completely and relax your face. Stay for six deep breaths.

5. Inhale to unwind and gently take a counter twist, right fingers reaching high toward the ceiling. Place the right palm down before switching to the other side.

Your turn: How do you let the little things, like being right, go?

What would you gain today if you gave up worrying about what you can’t control and spent more time on what you could?

I’ve been asking myself this question as I prepare to move into a new house this week. To start, I tackled a stack of boxes in my closet that have followed me around the country for seven years. I sorted through piles of CDs (yes, CDs), mementos, piano music and pages upon pages of my early writings and journals.

Halfway through the second box, I realized why I’ve held onto these things (now so easily donated or tossed in the recycle bin) for so long.

Revisiting the old me used to be tough work. I preferred to squirrel away my possessions, rather than relive the discomfort those possessions carried.

But most of all, I just got lazy.

Out of sight, out of mind — but not out of my closet. So this week, I purged with purpose. I looked at my things not for how they made me feel, but for what I would gain if I gave them up.

It’s a simple shift that applies not just to things but to thoughts. A shift I never would have made had I not come to my yoga mat, first.

Enough is enough

There’s a common misconception that to be a yogi or yogini, you must be able to withstand any environment and remain non-reactive to it. If that’s the case, I fail on a daily basis due to my little dog’s barking alone. The dog, she likes to talk!

To me, practicing yoga is becoming aware of the environment you’re in and how you react to it. Then, when you’re triggered, deciding to act with love instead of ego.

This is the tough part because we all have triggers, things that set us off for no clear reason. It’s as if our minds tune in to one unwavering frequency (in my dog’s case, other barking dogs outside) and can’t focus on anything else.

Whether we physically purge these triggers in the form of items, or battle them in our minds, the challenge is the same. Eventually, we have to say “enough is enough.”

Even cold-blooded lizards that rely on the sun to regulate their body temperature seek out shadow during the hottest part of the day.

How often do you?

It’s time to molt

All this lizard talk sparked from a conversation Evan and I were having about transitioning into our new home together.

Lizards rely on their environment for their survival. We often try to block out ours by doing everything we can to self-insulate. But blocking out what’s best for you often means putting up with, say, an abusive relationship or difficulties at work.

Take it from lizard: There’s only so much sunshine you can stand before you need to seek shade.

And get this — lizards molt. I had no idea until I watched this video. Make sure you watch until :10 seconds, otherwise this next part might not make sense.

Lizards molt and they eat their molting skin. (Collective ewww!)

Sure, sometimes our lives (not just our faces) need a major microdermabrasion, but give it to nature to take it one step further. To which my boyfriend metaphorically pointed out that when you’re shedding your past experiences, let it feed you as you grow a new skin.

Much more poetic than the reaction I had to the video.

Making a smooth transition

Even though you may not like the skin you’re in now, the truth is you grew that skin. Because of this, you have the power to shed anything that needs to molt, unstick anything that’s stuck, and take responsibility for whatever negative situation you know you need to let go.

Shedding is risky business. There’s always the chance you might look back and be nostalgic for the person you used to be.

But more often than not, you’ll open up that high school journal and have a chuckle at your old skin, realizing that at one point you shed it like all the rest.

No, literally. Over 24 hours, it’s estimated that a million skin cells fall off our bodies. A lizard eating its own skin doesn’t seem so gross now, does it?

Try it: Lizard Pose, Utthan Pristhasana

To practice Lizard Pose is to surrender to a place that’s not necessarily comfortable, but that’s good for you. It encourages a deep opening in the hips, hamstrings and thighs and helps to clear some of the emotional clutter from the body.

Modifications: Start with your palms pressed below your shoulders. On your exhales, bend into the elbows and see if you can place your forearms on the ground. You can prop your forearms on blocks if they don’t quite reach. Practice softening into the back of the heart, no matter which variation you choose. Your back knee can also remain lifted, but I like to set the knee down to hold the pose longer with less effort.

1. From Downward Facing Dog, exhale and step your right leg up to your right foot in a lunge. Bring your right hand inside the foot and turn the right toes toward the corner of your mat.
2. Stack your palms under your shoulders and drop your left knee to the mat. Hug your right inner thigh in and ensure your whole right foot is pressed into the ground. Inhale and lengthen through the spine, exhale and soften in your hips, keeping them as level as possible. If this stretch is enough, stay here.
3. Forearms variation: On your next exhale, bend the elbows and place them directly underneath the shoulders, palms flat on the ground in front of you. Continue to press your right inner thigh toward your right shoulder. Keep the left toes active as you maintain a lightness in your upper back.
4. Stay for at least eight deep cycles of breath. To come out, walk yourself back to your palms, lift your left knee and swing your right leg back into Downward Facing Dog. Pedal out your legs before switching to the other side.

Do tell: Have you ever looked back at yourself and wondered what the heck you were thinking?

It’s far too easy to resist change, even if we’ve asked for it.

When we’re unhappy we ask (plead!) for a way out, yet when change finally comes it brings along unexpected emotions. Suddenly, it’s light out past 5 p.m. and while you’re happy about it, it still takes you time to adjust.

Years and months of waiting for a break in our routine, more fuel for our passion, a kickstart for our aging bodies—how many conditions must pile up before we get the message that each moment toward change is as essential as the change itself?

Richard Rohr in Falling Upward says “…whatever reconnects our parts to the Whole is an experience of God.” For me, these experiences have included sprinting for cover during a downpour in the Smoky Mountains; weeping against cold shower tile in a windowless bathroom; and lifting into Bridge Pose during a 100-person yoga workshop in Estes Park, Colo.

And all these moments occurred after settling into big changes like jobs, new homes and relationships.They happened when I gave myself permission to start over (admittedly, not super difficult for this Sagittarius).

The experiences that make our parts part of the Whole have many disguises. That’s how I found myself and my two girlfriends sitting across from a Tarot card reader on Thursday night.

Don’t argue over toilet paper

All three times I’ve done Tarot have been in the past three years. Growing up, I was afraid and skeptical of psychics and mystics, but yoga has opened up a world where truth hides in the most unlikely places.

As well-worn cards flipped over on the table, I caught myself growing anxious, hoping that my current happiness and good fortune wouldn’t get an expiration date. (What is it that makes even positive people anticipate the worst?)

The cards largely foretold good things: a new happy home, financial success and the idea that all my efforts are driving toward something Greater Than Me. But there was one card—a heart with not one, not two, but three swords piercing it—that stood out.

This card, I was told, basically meant to not fight over which way the toilet paper roll unravels. File under: most unexpected advice ever from a Tarot card reader.

But she’s right. Little irritations like toilet paper preference (Note to Evan: It unrolls from the top, not the bottom) can destroy even the most rock-solid of relationships. Most of all, it can destroy the relationship you have with yourself.

Self doubt is one undercover irritant that prevents you from being flexible during change—or even just during a yoga pose. Changing zip codes or job titles or trying Chair Pose with Prayer Twist for the first time is one thing, but it’s much more difficult to flip a mental script that’s no longer serving.

5 permission-filled phrases for starting over

As we grow closer to the people we’re meant to be, maybe big “A-ha’s” don’t crash over us, but instead ebb and flow during the normal course of things. Catching the little irritants in our lives, whether caused by ourselves or triggered by the actions of others, can help us start over every day. That’s a whole lot better than waiting for big life changes, or being forced into them, without the means to cope.

Use these five phrases to make room for your brand new mentality, no matter what kind of change you’re currently going, or will go, through:

1. Nothing ever stays the same, and that’s a good thing because that means I won’t stay the same, too.
2. I am in control of how I feel about myself. Always.
3. When I’m overwhelmed, I give myself permission to slow down, relax and make sleep a priority.
4. I can let go. (Inhale “I can,” and exhale “let go.” Repeat five to 10 times with eyes closed.)
5. You gotta download the Happy Momentum Mantra for this one! (Kudos if you’ve already got it.)

Try it: Chair Pose with Prayer Twist, Parivrtta Utkatasana

Build strength in your foundation while taking on a new point of view with twisted chair pose.

One of the strong points in my personal asana yoga practice is twists. My body loves and craves twisting so I do (and teach) them a lot. They’re amazing for rejuvenating our spines; as the ancient yogis said, the key to a healthy life is a healthy spine.

Tips/modification: Glueing both knees together and charging up your inner thighs will help you stay in the pose longer as you work to twist your torso to the side. If your elbow doesn’t hook outside the knee, place your hand there instead and extend your other arm behind you as you twist.

1. Stand in Mountain Pose, Tadasana, with toes together and heels 2 inches apart. Press your palms together at your heart as you exhale and sink your hips low into Chair Pose. Squeeze your inner thighs and feel your sit bones spread as you rock weight into your heels.
2. Inhale and lift the low belly, stretching tall through the crown of your head. Exhale and twist to your left, hooking your right elbow outside of your left knee. Ensure that both of your knees remain glued together, and bring them back into alignment if they move during your twist.
3. Soften your shoulder blades down the back as you gently press your palms toward the center of your chest. Inhale and lift your torso slightly away from your left thigh, giving you room to exhale into a deeper twist.
4. Relax the back of your neck and continue to stay strong in the thighs. Hold the pose for five to six deep breaths.
5. To come out, exhale and release the twist, then stand into Mountain Pose before moving to the other side.

How does yoga help you cope with change? Share your experience below!

There are many things we will never know.

“The universe that we know, that we can observe, must have all been in one place at one moment. And now it’s spreading out all over the place,” says Bill Nye the Science Guy about life’s origins.

But nobody knows why the universe is expanding.

Nobody knows why the universe is here to begin with.

So let me just put this out there, because I know you’re thinking it, too.

Why am I here?

Possible explanations:

• You’re here to love.
• You’re here because you have a purpose.
• You’re here because others want you to be here.

I’ve never felt satisfied with any of these. Yes, love—but what then? Yes, purpose—but what exactly? Yes, because of others—but why are they here, too?

Just like the unknowable time when the universe became the universe, this is the unknowable time of your soul.

To be alive

I like to identify the threads between things and knot them together until they form sense about this life and the business of living it. There are so many articles that talk about the “top 30 things you need to do before you die,” but fewer that talk about the intimate details of what it means to be alive.

I am not interested in the not being alive. I am interested in what we may never know about why we’re alive.

An article I read about drowning got me thinking about breathing, one of the physiological reasons why we’re alive. It read, “Drowning is almost always a deceptively quiet event. The waving, splashing, and yelling that dramatic conditioning (television) prepares us to look for, is rarely seen in real life… Except in rare circumstances, drowning people are physiologically unable to call out for help.”

It’s far too common to not ask for help when we need it, but what if that’s because we simply can’t breathe?

Breathing would be a lot easier if we spent our entire lives on the yoga mat. Coordinating one breath per yoga pose may seem like a big deal at first, but it’s nothing compared to the challenge of finding happiness in the midst of the most unhappy situations.

Coming up for air

We get really good at getting good in controlled, orderly environments. Like a yoga class or showing up for work each day or following your bedtime brush teeth, wash face, set the alarm ritual.

Maybe that’s why it’s so jarring when questions like, “What am I here for, anyway?” creep in and stop the bristles mid-brush.

This used to come up more frequently for me when life wasn’t so sweet, but the old pal checks in from time to time to remind me that, while I may think I’ve figured things out, I still haven’t got a clue. It’s not necessarily a bad thing to not know why or how or to what extent. In fact, this curiosity brings us closer to our unknowable truth.

But I can only think about life’s big questions for so long before it’s time to be okay with just breathing. With just showing up because I am here and maybe that is enough.

We often miss how the universe is bringing everything to us just when we need it because we’re too busy treading water. Don’t spend your entire life misidentifying what it is to drown.

Try it: Upward Plank Pose, Purvottanasana

Upward Plank and I haven’t always been best buds. My shoulders used to ache before I gained that flexibility, not to mention that the pose made me feel like I was in a calisthenics class.

Then I saw the pose through the lens of breath work. It’s less about why these poses and more about how. Bring the body back into alignment and the why of life is easier to process. A lifetime of forward folding and self-preservation is not to be outdone in one day or one pose, but this will help you get there.

1. Sit in Staff Pose, Dandasana, with your legs outstretched, feet together and palms placed outside your hips with fingers pointed to your toes. Spread your fingers and inhale to lift the ribs and firm the shoulder blades onto your back.
2. Take another inhale and press down into the palms to lift the hips. Press your big toes toward the ground.
3. As you exhale, keep the back of your neck long and elongate your lower back by tucking your tailbone toward your feet.
4. Stay for six to eight deep breaths, challenging yourself to hold the pose before your mind tells you to quit. Be mindful, however, of injury or pain that goes beyond discomfort. When ready to release, exhale and lower your hips to the ground.

What do you think you’re here for? Brave hearts, share in the comments.