This adds a glow to my big, goofy, intensely genuine smile. At the time, we were halfway into the program when the news of the marathon tragedy pierced the peace of the yoga studio. My thought then still holds true: Humanity shone despite all that shattered that Monday. I can genuinely smile as I breathe in the memory of a compassionate circle of people who gathered at TriYoga for the sole purpose of helping someone else.

Gratitude joins this big, goofy, intensely genuine smile with a deep exhale. I appreciate the flexibility each teacher displayed to break outside of ‘tradition’ or ‘what the books say’ and such to embrace this different approach to yoga practice. Not only am I thankful for these teachers who are sharing the joy and benefits lof yoga with the PD community, I appreciate all that I learn from my time with them.

Along with my sometimes unusual method, I’ve fessed up to playing a variety of music choices not typically heard during yoga class. In that light, I end with the words of Elton John, “…Each day I learn just a little bit more. I don’t know why, but I do know what for…”

    I propose that Parkinson’s Disease Awareness Month closes with a hug.

     Hug family, friends, dogs, friend’s dogs.

Consider the benefits. Studies show that hugs lower blood pressure, increase levels of hormones that trigger happy states of being and reduce the affects of  stress.

In the average embrace, both huggers lean toward each other:
O O
/= =\

When the average embrace ends (determined, typically silently, by both participants), both return to upright and part:
O O
|    |

Happy hormones for all. Except for those of us with a movement disorder; the research clearly did not include in their trials people living with PD. When someone raises both arms and leans toward me for an embrace, my state of being turns to fear. I’m not entirely steady (physically, that is) and the pressure of even a light touch can throw me off balance. If I’m already in the off-balance mode, the hug can turn to a tumble when it ends as my fellow hugger releases her arms, straightens and steps away. I need more time to regain an upright stance, so when she walks, I’m still in a forward lean.

Most of the time, I manage my activities well despite the PD. Admittedly, I attend my pity parties on occasion, but I don’t overstay my welcome. Patience, work-arounds, and lots of yoga help counter the losses of this, as Michael J Fox put it, this gift that keeps on taking. No web site, neurologist or PD pamphlet prepped me, however, that I’d lose out on hugs.

I’ve always been a hugger. Whether I was arm-in-arm with my sister or squeezing into a photo op with friends, I never shied away from a hug’s connection. It surprised me — more than that, it made me angry — to find my body tensing when running into an old friend or  avoiding a dinner guest hinging toward me to say good-bye. Afraid of a hug?

It’s time for a work-around. I’m not missing out on any more happy hormones.

As Parkinson’s Disease Awareness Month ends, I propose we close with this four-step guide on hugging a person living with PD, ensuring that both huggers reap the benefits:

Step 1.
When one hugger lives with PD (left), take a step closer to him. Arms are at your sides. Smile. Breathe.
O  O
|   |
<–

Step 2.
Allow the person to place their hands on your arms or shoulders first. Place yours next with natural pressure but without pulling the person toward you or shifting your weight toward him or her. Smile. Breathe.

Step 3. Rather than leaning toward the person, allow the PD hugger (left) to lean in.
O    O
/= =|

Step 4.
When the hug ends (again determined by both participants, with verbal communication as needed) the PD hugger returns to upright and both huggers ensure stability before they part. Smile. Breathe.
O O    O O
| =|      |  |

Have you hugged a person with PD today?

I, with Secretariat’s victories taped to every inch of my bedroom walls, envisioned my future filled with checkered silk jerseys atop a thoroughbred. My mother, an avid reader, had a more literary career in mind for me, snug in a button-down sweater surrounded by books.

Neither of us would have pictured the grown-up me in leggings on a yoga mat.

Could they be any more different: racetrack, library, studio?  Plot them out and they’d be separate points on a triangle, equally distant from each other in every way.

There are, however, similarities:

• None are get-rich-quick life choices.
• Each means no need for expensive suits or uncomfortable shoes.
• All can be done during regular hours without ever having to be on call.
• The three derive from one common point: Passion.

I’m passionate about yoga, particularly about its benefits for those of us with movement disorders. Finding peace in body, mind and spirit is like riding the three tracks of the Triple Crown.

For five days in April, I get to live that passion. Our team of health care professionals and yogis share our expertise and welcome fellow yoga teachers and therapists to learn about the disease and approaches specifically designed for people living with Parkinson’s.

For information or to register for the Teacher Training for Parkinson’s Certificate Program, please visit http://www.limyoga.com/teachertraining.html .

In yoga, Asanas are poses we move our bodies into to energize or trigger relaxation. The Mudras are gestures that, in unison with the breath, also balance our energy.  Mudras are like yoga with our hands.

From Anjali Mudra to Varaha Mudra, the gestures each involve touch. Whether it’s the tips of fingers pressed into one another, knuckles making contact or the back of the hand against a palm, each has a positive effect on our mood and on clearing our minds.

For those of us with movement disorders, the full-body experience of yoga may be daunting at times when meds are waning or fatigue takes over. Or, it’s simply one of those off days. That’s when the Mudras can be particularly beneficial.  We need only to breathe and place our fingers in various positions to reap the calming or rejuvenating benefits of yoga.  For those of us living with movement disorders who are fortunate enough to live with a dog, we know the calming and rejuvenating benefits of our canine companions. Which brings me to a (pardon the pun:) handy move sure to bring peace, balance.

While I’m a Mudra novice, and I realize there’s a symbolic number of mudras (108), I believe the gods will understand my addition of a simple, adaptable hand gesture sure to calm, center, and bring us into the present moment.

Hasta Svan Mudra: 

Hand on Dog Mudra.

Practice it regularly.

In this season of lists, must-do’s, purchases, I listen for bells. From the Salvation Army ringers to the sh-shing of a cash register, these familiar sounds can be our guides to stop for a moment. To take a breath. How yogic. How necessary when living with PD.

In “Peace Is Every Step,” Thich Nhat Hanh suggests we use the sound of bells to remind us to notice. To stop for a moment, take a breath and notice all the little miracles.

Let the microwave beep, an elevator ding, someone’s car-locking beep all feed into this pool of reminders. Tis the season of bells and miracles.

In it, four siblings and their parents are in dfferent yoga poses, each pose a unique combination of bend and reach. But the image is not one of a collection of internally focused individuals. The photographer captured what unifies them: the synchronicity of that focus. The children aren’t adjusting or re-angling or falling out of position — in the yogic sense nor in the literal sense. Ditto with the parents, who aren’t trying to maintain balance. They’re all fully there, in the same space.

Holy cow (pose), when does that happen in a family? No one is waiting for someone else to finish in the bathroom. No one is tuned in to an electronic device. No one is tuned out. Not a one is arguing, whining, pouting or late for somewhere else.

None report a chronic condition, a movement disorder. But that’s the point that struck me strongest. Clearly each family member has something going on, everyone does. In the cover shot, though, they appear so present, so aware, so together. A lesson I could use off the mat at my house.

The title of the piece refers to a family that cobras together.  Interestingly, none of them is in cobra pose, the benefits of which open the heart and relieve stress. Then again, perhaps that’s just what they’re doing.

A witness to these moments of exploration and resistance seemed so related to yoga.  A haiku formed in time write it down and share with the class:

Turtle, hawk, human

One crosses road, one a field

The other, his arms

]]> http://www.limyoga.com/wpblog/2012/08/24/sir-thomas/feed/ 0 http://www.limyoga.com/wpblog/2012/08/21/i-dis-agree/ http://www.limyoga.com/wpblog/2012/08/21/i-dis-agree/#comments Tue, 21 Aug 2012 22:45:16 +0000 Renee http://www.limyoga.com/wpblog/?p=1108 Continue reading →]]> When disease gets defined by playing on the two parts of the word — dis and ease – I cringe.  A word nerd, myself, I often enjoy the nuance of language. But dis-ease feels forced, the meaning stretched to fit into an attitude.

Dis-ease implies that the facility with which the body moves and operates lies waiting for us to diss the dis part and get back to a healthy state of being.  As though we have all the control.  As though it was likely our stressful existence that placed the dis- in front of our ease in the first place.

This may hold some truth in relation high blood pressure or forms of insomnia. To apply this to all sickness, chronic conditions,  life-threatening illnesses is dis-comforting.

Not only does it label a person as being out of whack, it implies that consuming fewer donuts and practicing some balance poses will put everything back in order. Explain that to the war vet with traumatic brain injury, or the 35-year-old pregnant woman just diagnosed with MS, or the neighbor whose cancer has returned despite daily walks and all-organic diet. Dis-concerting.

Among the medical world’s terminology to describe disease are the words defect, deviation, impairment, illness. 

The strength, flexibility and balance that gets disturbed in our systems can be improved through yoga practice. Symptoms connected with an incurable condition can lessen with yoga practice. The disease itself does not go away, no matter how much we try to snub it, turn a cold shoulder to it.  We can dwell on our past behaviors or plan out each meal into the next decade. Or, we can be present, as yoga practice teaches us. We can face the limitations, the pain, the effects of our condition with a grace that brings ease back in balance.

A good night’s sleep, so rare among Parkinson’s patients, carries many reasons to be thankful. Symptoms lessen, meds work better, mid-day fatigue disappears. I decided that if I made the list before getting out of bed in the morning, it would still count.

Item number one: the extra shut-eye.

Next: it’s peach season.  ’Nough said. 

Third came when the fog lifted. Literally.  While on vacation,  the  bike path I’d been riding the day before turned damp and gray. But the view had been there all along. As the weather cleared, the beauty emerged. It was like lifting the screen of a dark mood to a sigh of contentment.

The next time that worries or fears descend on me like a cloud, I’ll take a nap, cut a slice of peach pie and trust what lies beyond the mist.