pomegranate

Y Is for Yoga

It started at a party during the holiday season where I saw one of my favorite people in the whole world. She's an accountant and a yoga teacher. She's written checks for me since 1989, and whenever I send her an invoice, we exchange a couple of sentences about movies. But on this occasion, I asked her about teaching.

"Do you teach beginners?" I asked. That would be me. I've followed Richard Hittleman's 28 day program at home, but then strained my Achilles, and abandoned the practice all together.

She told me she did have a beginning class, once a week, 7:30 to 9:00 AM.

"I would love to do it," I told her, "But there's no way I'm getting up that early."

We continued to talk. She told me why she started yoga. She told me how she became a teacher. She told me more about the class.

"Suppose I did do it," I said. "Would it be the kind of thing where I could just show up?"

She told me about class fees and class schedules. She said the next class would be in two weeks, because she was going on retreat. She told me about the retreat.

"All right," I said, "Then I think you'll see my smiling, tired face two weeks from now."

She told me it would be the last class of the year.

"Oh," I said, "Maybe I should wait until 2008."

She laughed. "Just come," she said.

So I did. I showed up at the ungodly hour and I claimed two mats, two wood blocks, one purple block, a bolster, and a strap. I stretched and balanced and rested and twisted and lifted and then the class was over.

"But that seemed like five minutes," I told my friend.

I have now gone to three classes. I still love it. I worry the day beforehand, "Did I set the alarm? I don't want to miss my yoga."

I notice now sometimes when my shoulders are up. I sometimes now remember to breathe. Is it yoga yet?

Achille's Heel

Last week, I finally went to the doctor.

I had this sore heel, which traveled up to my knee, which made me question my gait, or my gait questioned me, as in "Are you sure you should be walking?"  "Do you realize how much this hurts?"  "When will you go to the doctor?"

I had reasons not to go.  General busyness.  A change in health plans.  The bottom line, fear.  I was afraid it was something serious.  I was afraid that I would have to be laid up for a while.  I was afraid of surgery.  I was afraid I wouldn't be able to walk.  Walking is one of my favorite things to do.

But last week, activities died down.  Anxiety flared up.  My new health plan sent me a new health card.  I called the advice nurse, and she scheduled me for an appointment that morning.

I told the doctor my symptoms and she touched the tendon behind my heel and I said, "Ow."  And she nodded and walked back to her laptop and said, "Achilles tendonitis."

She asked me how I thought I did it, and I told her about these exercises that I had started to do at home.  They were exercises that I recalled from aerobic classes of my youth, exercises I liked, but then my heel started to hurt, and I still didn't make the connection for probably a few weeks later.

She said, "Show me the exercises."

So, I stood up, and showed her what I did.

"I think this is the one," I said.  It was one for the abdominals, where you sit on the floor, propped up by your elbows, and you raise your legs up and out in a V-configuration.  I liked this exercise, I told her.  I think I kind of pounded my heels into the floor on their descent.  She nodded and said that probably did it.  I told her once I had made the connection, I had discontinued all the exercises, and had taken up Richard Hittleman's yoga instructions as an alternative.  I told her I still walked.  I said that even though it still hurt, I thought it was the thing to do.  To my relief, she said that was okay, as long as my tendon didn't rupture.

"That would be something I would know," I figured.  She nodded.

"Mine is mild, right?" I said.  She nodded.

"Since I'm an American," I told her, "I'm after the quick fix.  When will this be completely healed?"

She said it would take a long time, months.  It's a big tendon.  But since I'm an American, she gave me a prescription for a hard core drug -- at least it seems hard core to me.  It's almost completely taken all of the symptoms away.  Then I do this stretching exercise she recommended it and I ice it while watching DVDs.  Life is pretty dang good.

Bring on the Herbs

There's a Chinese man of indeterminate age, an herbalist and acupuncturist in the Oakland Chinatown district, who I went to a couple of times this spring.  I didn't really know what to expect the first time.  I was referred by another acupuncturist who told me this guy had the good stuff, and if I needed more help, that I could come to him for the needles. 

So, I walked in said, "So and So sent me," and then he stood up and made a gesture to follow him, which I did, to his office, and he asked me some questions and felt my pulse, and wrote down things in Chinese, and then we went back to the main room, where he took out what looked like bark and seeds and twigs and things and told me how to make the tea.  When I got back home, I realized there were other things in my bag.  He had given me the sheet with my diagnosis in Chinese, but there was also his phone number at the bottom. 

"Those are candy," he told me.

And I opened one up and popped it in my mouth and took in the sweetness of apple.

He always seemed to wear a cardigan.  When I came into his shop, he always acted like he expected me.  When I would go in  in the afternoon, his friends were there, hanging out with him.  He would leave them for a moment and go with me to his office, and when we would come back, they would talk to each other in their language, while I wrote out my check, asked any question that I could think of that I knew would bother me if left unsaid, and then I left their world, bag in hand, candy safely in tow. I haven't been there for a month or so, but If I needed to go, I wouldn't hesitate to return.

More Sleep Stuff

I never realized before how much one's identity, at least my own, can be defined by sleep. On Monday, which was a holiday here, although I don't really understand these Monday holidays after holidays that are based on actual dates, but anyway, on the morning of the Monday holiday, my mother called me.  It was a little after 9 o'clock.  Her first words to me were, "How do I turn down the volume on my cellphone?" 

This made me smile.  In my family, I'm asked questions like this.  In any other of the tribes I know, I would be the one calling someone else to ask the question.  So, I said to my mother, "I didn't know you had a cellphone." She said she had gotten one several months ago.  I said she would most likely need to go to the menu and find settings and sounds.  And then she said, "Oh, I think I got it," and I took a sip of coffee and t hen told her that I had just gotten up, that I was just sitting down to my first cup of coffee.. And she said, "That's not like you." And I said, "I know.  I do this now."

It's one of the resolutions I made to myself way before New Year's.  It was a decision borne out of necessity, not one that I always like, because it takes away things that I took pride in.  Like getting up really early and being productive.  Like getting up early and reading all the newspapers online.  Like getting up early and taking a walk and seeing people practice Tai-Ching and Chi-Kung by the water, and everything feels quiet and still and people say good morning to you, because there's so few of us up. I don't do any of that any more.

Now I don't set an alarm.  I get up when I wake up naturally and it turns out that natural for me is normal.  It's mundane.  It's average.  It means that I don't get to wake up and watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer in the morning much, and I really liked eating breakfast to "Buffy."  But when it all comes down to it,  it turns out I'm not one of those special people who doesn't need much sleep.  It turns out I need about eight hours or else I have to take a nap in the afternoon.  And I really have to.  I was going to go to the movies last Friday afternoon with a friend I hadn't seen for a while and I had to cancel, because I was tired, and sleep is a priority. It's one of the strangest priorities that I can imagine.  Not writing a novel, not making the big bucks, not world peace.  Adequate sleep.

But sometimes it makes me cheerful. Like New Year's night, we stayed at a Ramada Limited, that lived up to that second word.  We had gone to see comedy in San Jose, a place apparently known for its lack of parking, and so we had booked rooms, sight unseen, at this known chain, which turned out to be a place of noise, where we were up at all hours, laughing  and speculating on what illegal activities were now taking place.  Often, it kind of sounded like they were performing "Riverdance" right above our heads.  At 3 o'clock in the morning, when you're not on the ground floor, that should earn you some type of citation.  But it just seemed funny to me now, because I knew that I had a big nap in the my future, and that was something I now can look forward to.

The Power of Intention

This month has not gone according to my expectations. December is traditionally slow for transcriptionists. I planned on learning more about computers and creating spreadsheets and reading technical books and ironing. I have a lot of clothes that need to be ironed. And the month started out according to my thoughts. No work, and so I turned on the TV and contemplated bringing out the ironing board, and there was Wayne Dyer. I had just been thinking about his book, The Power of Intention, which is one of my favorite books, a touchstone for me that I had lent out, and it had not come back, and I had been thinking about whether I wanted to call it in again, or whether it could actually just end up being a gift. So, I turn on the TV, and there's Wayne Dyer talking about the power of intention. It turned out to be pledge time for this public television station, and I ended up making a pledge and so I'll get another copy of the book and also help public television. It was a marathon show, three hours, I think, and now that some weeks have passed--the day after I watched it, work started pouring in, and so it feels like I've been too busy to think about things he said, but I remember a few. One was to wish others well, to treat people kindly and sincerely want the best for them. Another one was to really imagine what it would be like to be where you want to be. Another was to meditate. Those are all I can remember, but it was so helpful, and it truly turned this month around.

The Dentist's Chair

I see my dentist three times a year, and I always look forward to our visits, because I enjoy our conversations.

It's a different dynamic than everyday life, because he's working while he's talking.  My end of the deal is I have to lie back, open my mouth, and spit on command.  It's not a rough gig, but I don't get to talk much.  I'm mostly listening, and then after I spit, I get to fire off a few questions or a comment or two.

It's a great way to learn about someone, because they do most of the talking and because your talk time is so limited, you can put a lot of thought into what they've said and what you would like to say in return.

We've been doing this for years now, and it seems as if our conversations have gone off to many different themes.  For a while, we primarily talked about baseball.  That proved challenging as that theme wore on, as it turned out that at the time, I cared more about baseball than my dentist.  In an ideal world, I would have been monologuing, and he would have asked me questions, but that's not the set-up for our situation.  So, then we talked about Hawaii and trips.  Then we talked about books and movies.  And now we've settled on food, which works really well, because my dentist goes to a lot of restaurants, and I love hearing about his experiences there.  And since I don't go to many restaurants, I'm a better questioner than answerer.  So, it really works.

More on Sleep

I'm sleep deprived and sleep obsessed.

Everyone I see, I feel like asking them, "How many hours do you sleep a night?"  and "What's your attitude about naps?"

I even googled "naps" today, and found out the following things.  If we were a normal culture, listening to our bodies and what they wanted, we would be taking afternoon naps.  Specifically we would be napping eight hours after our initial wake time, and ideally, these times would be a consistent part of our daily routine.   Recommended nap time is 30 to 40 minutes.  Anything over an hour is going to leave you groggy for five minutes to a half an hour after waking up.  Naps are supposed to improve your concentration, your mental acuity, and your productivity.  It seems like every corporation in America would be implementing nap time, but it's so odd, so kindergarten, so intimate, so out of control to lay down and sleep, so contrary to our notion of work as pedal to the medal that I could never imagine it happening.

Fatigue

This is my current A topic right in front of my brain, because I feel I face it almost every day.

I'm tired. 

I'm very tired.

I'm tired like I feel like there's sandbags in my legs.

I'm tired down to the bone tired.  I'm cellular tired.

I'm tired, and I'm trying to chase down the thread.  When did I start feeling this way?  I think of when I was sick in June.  I felt like there were sandbags in my legs then, too.  But then I think of when I had a writing group on Wednesday night years ago and often I feel too tired to go, that kind of exhaustion when you think, "I can't operate heavy machinery."  I think that it's been several years now that I've known that falling asleep in movie theatres was  a distinct possibility.  I remember having a Chi Kung class on Sunday afternoons also years ago and that it was always an issue whether I would have enough energy to go to my class about energy.

I try to imagine what it would be like if I slept eight hours a night.  If I get six, I'm lucky.  I just haven't been able to do it.

So, now I take naps.  I sleep as if I just returned from the desert and was handed a glass of water.  I'm trying to go to bed earlier.  I'm trying to exercise more.  I'm taking more vitamins.  I'm trying to sleep and rest as much as I can.

The funny thing is that people have stopped me lately and said, "You look radiant."  A person asked me, "Did you just get back from Hawaii?" 

That really made me laugh, because sometimes now when I'm really tired, I close my eyes and imagine that I am in Hawaii.  So, In a way I did.

New Spectacles

Last week I had to admit it.  My eyes hurt.

My last eye exam had been four years ago.  In the past year or so, I had become creative with my eyesight.  Today, can I read this with my glasses on or off?  At what distance?  And now?  It became a compensation that I adjusted to, and then this week, my eyes began to hurt, and I had to rethink the whole thing.

So, I went to the eye doctor on Friday and had one of those "oh, no" moments.  One of the reasons that I'd been avoiding going was because an eye examination is such a lengthy, complicated process.  I walked throough the door, and an employee approached me, and I realized that she was going to be the one testing me, and at first I thought this was not a good idea.

She had platinum blonde hair and a French manicure.  She had a Valley Girl voice.  She was a wee bit different than me.  The words "oil and water" came to mind.

But I made a decision, which I've been making more often lately, which is I want to string good moments together, kind of like a pretty necklace, but it would actually be my life.  So, I decided I would find ways to enjoy this time, which at the beginning seemed like it would be a challenge, because I don't particularly enjoy glacuoma tests, and my eyes hurt, and if I thought about that too much, I would admit that I felt scared being there.  I thought they would tell me some bad news, and bad news seems even worse when it's coming from someone incompatible to you.

So, I went through the tests.  I didn't say a lot, because I was scared and I didn't really know what to say.  But when the boom wasn't lowered, when things kept progressing, I began to relax.  I began to ask questions.  "After you took that picture of my eye, I'm still seeing a white light in front of it.  Is that normal?"  ("Yes, that's why I'm waiting to take the picture of the other eye after the doctor's examination.")  "Okay, that's good to know."

So, then the doctor examined me.  Her energy was totally different--she emanated this great blend of calmness and this sense of no nonsense.  She did dilate my eyes at the end, and then she called in the assistant who didn't hear the page, because the music was too loud.  So, we walked out there, and she told her to help me pick out some frames.

And that's when I looked at this woman and said, "Perfect."  I told her, "You have great fashion sense.  I really want to hear what you think would work for me."

So, we went through everything.  She told me I had a tiny face, and actually made that sound like kind of a good thing, and we looked at small frames.  Actually it seemed to me that most frames now are small, and that the company has gotten smart by veering away from clip-ons now.  So, now you not only have to buy glasses, but sunglasses as well.  I actually ended up buying three pairs--one for distance, sunglasses, and one for reading/computer activities.  But I had fun picking them out with her and I was happy with the purchases.  And I came in the next day to pick them up and the assistant made sure that she came over and chirped and had me try them all on while she appraised me and said, "Nice, very nice," and the technician carefully put all my frames away in new cases and shook my hand, and it was a really pleasant business experience, all in all.

On Sticks and Seeds

So, I still have this cough, and I was tired ot thinking about it and friends commenting on it and my assurances that "At this point, it's not contagious," and I was certainly tired of the inhaler, so I emailed my friend whose nephew is studying to be an acupuncturist and said, "Does he know anyone I can go to?"

He referred me to a doctor who turned to be going on a three week vacation the following day.  So, I got his interns's names, and I went back to my friend who called her nephew and asked him which one I should go to, and he told me, and I called, and we had a conversation about symptoms and what I've taken, and he asked me if I could go in that day to pick up some herbs and then come back the following week for a treatment, and I said I could.

When I came in, he handed me three paper bags full of sticks and seeds and twigs and all kinds of funky things and suggested that I smell it, and told me that this was something not  to drink, but to inhale, to boil it in a pot, one that was stainless steel, and to not boil it more than five minutes, and then to stick a sweatshirt or something over my head and create a kind of a tent where I could breathe in the steam twice a day for three days.

So, I just finished Day 2.  I like it much more than the inhaler.  The smell of the herbs lingers in my home, and I like that, too.