You Again.

Several weeks ago, I blogged about a weekend I spent mostly solo. I honored the power it had at the time, but I could have never imagined the impact it would have from that point on. But last weekend while talking with a friend, I heard words spill out of my mouth that only a few months ago I would have never expected to hear. “I really enjoy my own company.” It completely took me by surprise, but the truth had been brewing for a while.

Over the past three and a half years, I found myself living in some really interesting places (Utah and Vermont). The downside to choosing to move to places where I knew few, if any, people was that I often found myself alone and it was rarely by choice. I couldn’t call someone at a moment’s notice and see if they wanted to grab a cup of coffee, a glass of wine, a few ski runs, a movie, or dinner. Sometimes, but not always. Instead of being comforted by my own company I was often annoyed. I'd think, You again?

It was largely for this reason that I chose to move to Chicago earlier this year. Although my job allows me to live pretty much anywhere with cell phone reception and an Internet connection (which, these days, is pretty much anywhere) I chose to move where my friends were. At the time, I barely considered all of the great things I’d get to enjoy by living in Chicago. I would have moved to the North Pole if that were where my friends were. (Visit in January and you may think that’s exactly what I did.)

Without an ounce of hesitation, I can say that I made the best move of my life. I know that I can pick up the phone or shuttle off an e-mail and within moments have plans to eat sushi or go for a walk or even take a yoga class with some of my favorite people on the planet. But what has surprised me most is that sometimes I decide not to. Sometimes, all I want to do is cook a nice meal, snuggle into my couch, and read a book or watch a DVD. Alone. Although the order of events would have been identical in any of those other places, I actually enjoy it now. Because if I don't want to do it, I don't have to do it. Because it’s a choice. Because I have options.

Now it’s, You again!

I write a lot here about finding balance on my plate and in my body. But the reality is that there’s balance to be found in every corner of my life. Even my social one.

You’re Not Going To Find Coupons For Kale

My idea of heaven

I spent a good portion of last week researching and conducting interviews for an article I’m writing about—to put it vaguely—using coupons for groceries. Some time around Tuesday or Wednesday I started feeling a sense of guilt. Not only have I never clipped a coupon in my life or checked a store’s circular before, I buy about 95 percent of my groceries at Whole Foods. Was I being irresponsible with my money? Was I willingly getting ripped off on a weekly basis? Are you nodding your head?

Slave to research that I am, I carved out a chunk of time on Thursday to put some skills I had learned into action. First, I made a list of items I needed. Then, I set out to find a coupon for as many items on my list as possible. First stop: Coupons.com. Next, I checked the grocery store's website to see if they had any coupons. Finally, for any remaining items, I did a Google search. “Fage yogurt coupon” scored me a $0.50 coupon and I got another for the bread I love (Earth Grains Wheat Berry bread) just by “liking” their Facebook page. From this experience alone, I’ll say this: It doesn’t take an enormous amount of time to track down coupons for items you need. According to one expert, a smart coupon shopper can do so in about 10 to 15 minutes per week and save as much as $200 per month.

Did the coupons help me save? Well, no. (Clearly I’m not one of those smart shoppers yet.) I made several rookie errors. While on Coupons.com, I got really excited about coupons for items I thought I might want, but don't usually buy such as canned soup. I can’t remember the last time I ate soup out of a can. Plus, I have serious concerns about the chemical, bisphenol-A (BPA), in the linings of cans that studies have found is associated with breast cancer, heart disease, and a slew of other health issues. I’m not being an alarmist—two weeks ago, Canada declared the chemical toxic. There are four cans of Progresso soup sitting in my pantry right now. Because I had a coupon for them.

But I digress.

Let me get to the whole point of this post: While I believe that, when used wisely, coupons are a very smart way to save cash, you’re more likely to find them for packaged, processed goods than for whole foods, no matter where you buy those whole foods. Shopping with a different mindset and in a different location also meant that I was checking out lots of new foods. Which brings me to my second point: If you’re not careful, it’s easy to swipe up things you think are healthy, but are really questionable.

I printed a coupon for Green Giant Valley Fresh Steamers. “Green,” “fresh,” and “steam” screamed good-for-you to me, no? A package of frozen veggies (which often contain as many nutrients as their fresh counterparts) that I could toss in the microwave sounded like a convenient way to get my fill when I don’t have time to restock fresh ones. I nearly took home a few bags of a sugar snap pea, potato, and red pepper veggie medley (hey, I had a coupon), but caught a glimpse of the ingredients as they tumbled into my cart. And by ingredients, I mean dozens of them. What are dozens of ingredients doing in an item that contains three vegetables? On closer examination I saw words like “modified corn starch,” “gelatin,” “maltodextrin,” “xanthan gum,” “autolyzed yeast extract,” “natural and artificial flavor,” “sodium lactylate,” and others. Whaaaaaaaaat? Frankly, I don’t really know what sort of impact these chemicals have on our health. But shouldn’t vegetables just contain, well, vegetables? Some olive oil and herbs might kick things up a notch when you’re cooking them, but I’ve never tasted a green bean and thought it needed a dash of xanthan gum before. Ew. Back in the freezer they went. Next to the broccoli with cheese sauce. Double ew.

For better or for worse, when I walk into a grocery store, my number one priority is buying the very best foods for me. Taste and quality aren’t far behind. Whether this is the smartest financial decision I will ever make, I’m not so sure. But when it comes to health, I don’t think I can put a price tag on it. And you know that thrill some people get when they hear the ding of savings stacking up on their bill? I get that very same rush when my cart is overflowing with plants, born from the earth, that have met neither pesticide nor autolyzed yeast extract before. To me, that's worth every penny.

What Does Your Body Need?

That's me on the green mat in Wild Thing : )

Your body is one smart cookie. Unfortunately, it’s easy to forget that. We always want to do more, push harder, and exceed our own expectations. But when you give your body what it’s asking for (check in—there’s usually a message in your inbox), that’s when great stuff happens.

A few weeks ago, I noticed that I was talking myself into going to yoga almost on a daily basis. Some days I was flat out skipping it. Something was wrong. Normally, the moment the clock on the upper right hand corner of my computer monitor strikes 5 p.m., I toss on my Lululemons and head to class. It’s automatic--like going to the bathroom when I need to pee. I don’t contemplate the pros or cons or think about what else I’d like to be doing—I just go. Because I need to. Because it’s part of who I am and what I do (the yoga, not the peeing).

Instead, I was still sitting at my desk at 5:15 pm, contemplating whether I wanted a snack. Indeed, when I tuned in, I found that there was some interesting stuff going on (besides Greek yogurt).

When I first moved to Chicago, it took me a while to find the right yoga classes for me. At first I found the classes that I was taking way too slow. I didn’t want to sit or lie down for the first 10 minutes of class. My mind would wander in a million different directions. I wanted to move! And soon, I found classes that gave me exactly that. I was ecstatic. I loved flying through vinyasas, feeling my body pulse with the rhythm of the music. I could feel my heart beating against my chest. Sweat dripped from every pore. I felt alive! At the end of class I felt wrung out and satisfied. I settled into savasana, exhausted and elated.

But something had shifted. When I checked in with myself a few weeks ago, the message I received was this: Slow down. My body was craving classes that allowed me to move mindfully and methodically through my poses. I wanted to focus on and refine my alignment, which is difficult to do when you’re blasting through Sun Salutations, as fun as that is.

I was shocked to discover this. Slow down? Me? I spend all day planted at my computer, how could I possibly want to go slow? Was I sure that’s what my body wanted? (It's easy to second guess your body when it speaks to you.) Only a few months earlier, taking those kinds of classes made me feel agitated. What had changed?

Frankly, I’m still not sure what changed—maybe it’s the changing of the seasons, maybe it’s just time, maybe my body or mind is working on something that I’m still unaware of—but I heeded my body’s directions, and have been giving it exactly what it asked for.

And I can’t begin to describe the shift that I have felt. Just like before, at 5 p.m. I’m slipping into my Wunder Under crops and racing out the door without a moment of hesitation. I'm getting so much better at sitting still during meditation at the beginning and end of class. I can almost say that I look forward to that peace now. I’ve learned that I can stay in Triangle pose for a dozen breaths, and still find things to work on (is my back leg inner spiraling enough? Are my kidney’s inflated? Is the tailbone on the front leg side tucking under? Is my top shoulder moving back faster than my heart? Are the fingers of my top hand spreading energetically enough? I could go on…) Before, these details felt like a nuisance (just let me move!) but lately they’ve puzzled and challenged me in new ways. My hope is that, in time, I can assimilate these principles into my body enough so that I can maintain them even when powering through poses—no matter the pace. I’ve found that beginner and level 1 classes can actually be more difficult than advanced ones. (After all, when it comes to yoga, aren’t we always beginners?)

It’s easy to forget how wise our bodies are. Sometimes the real lesson is in slowing down and doing less—if that’s what your body needs. Other times, there’s plenty to be gained from exploring your boundaries—if that’s what your body needs. As long as your actions honor your body’s requests, you’re going to reap the benefits.

Here & Now

This is what I’m doing right now. This is what I’m doing right now.

Those seven words are my new mantra. My only mantra.

For a long time and still to this day, I’ve struggled with staying in the present moment. In fact, earlier this year I e-mailed one of my best friends, a yogini, about my frustrations with the present. I wrote:

For yogis, living in the present moment is inherent. But for our Western culture, we are essentially raised with the thought that if we live in the present moment we’ll be left behind because the present becomes the past so quickly. Living in the future is how you get ahead in our world. So I have a question about this:

What is the purpose of living in the present moment?

What’s so great about it anyway?

If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that we have all of the answers to our own questions. We’ll hear them loud and clear only when we are ready. I guess I’m ready.

I’d barely considered the present moment since shuttling off that email almost six months ago. But lately, the present moment question has made itself apparent and is at the forefront of my mind. And it happens that I am finally hearing the answers.

Question: What is the purpose of living in the present moment?

Answer: Joy lives in the present moment.

Let me put it into non-yogi speak: It is impossible to experience joy—fun, happiness, abandon—if your body and mind are not in the same place at the same time. If you are physically somewhere, say, sitting at a dinner table with your most favorite people on the planet, and your mind is thinking about work or tomorrow’s plans, you can bet your sweet bottom that you will never enjoy yourself to the fullest. You can’t. It’s humanly impossible. I’ve tried and I’ve failed.

But when you show up to the metaphorical table with everything you’ve got—your humor, your kindness, your sweetness, your frankness, your quirks and the rest of your lovable self—and take in what everyone else has to offer, that’s when life becomes blissful no matter what you’re doing.

I’ve found this to be true in even the smallest things. You know how I love my walks with my dogs, but I’ve become aware that when I am not living in the present moment—when my body is moving, but my mind is still at my desk—I hardly notice its effects. I return to my iMac with exactly the same attitude that I left it. (Typically tired and perhaps a little frustrated.) But when I show up fully for my walk and feel the warm sun on my (sunscreened) skin and the cool breeze whispering across my (sunscreened) cheeks, I feel lighter, renewed, and invigorated. It’s like giving my internal Etch A Sketch a rough shake so I can start over.

Ditch the present moment and I reap none of those benefits.

Earlier this week, when I found my mind drifting to items on my To Do list during a walk (I’m talking about a real Bic-pen-on-legal-pad-paper To Do list, not a mental one that I had to be sure not to forget) I started chanting to myself: This is what I’m doing right now…This is what I’m doing right now…This is what I’m doing right now…

Immediately my mind snapped back to the present moment. I felt my body being propelled forward and my Nike Shox striking the pavement with every step. It’s such a simple phrase that quietly reminds me to be in the here and now. Since then, I’ve employed those seven words (go ahead, try it!) during countless activities when I noticed my mind wandering. Each time it has helped me to find so much more pleasure in what I was doing whether I was making one of my favorite recipes (Indonesian ginger chicken) or hanging out in Half Moon pose.

This whole present moment thing is still a little new to me and I am excited to find out where it might take me. But I’m slowly waking up to the reason it’s called the present in the first place. Because this moment is a gift.

Salmon & Lentils

Salmon and lentils have become somewhat of a running joke with my family. It all started several weeks ago when I called my Mom one evening, as I often do, while walking home from yoga. She told me that my Dad made a delicious dinner of salmon and lentils. It sounded like an interesting dish, so I made a mental note to ask for the recipe some time. You’d think that would be the end of it.

Fast forward to last Thursday afternoon, when I found myself cooped up in the back of a Mini Cooper driving from New York City to southern Vermont with my sister and brother-in-law. We were meeting my parents at our ski house for the weekend. As hunger began to creep in, we started discussing what we’d like to eat for dinner. You see, the ski house is a magical place. Calories don’t matter and it’s all about great food and even better company. That kitchen has churned out gourmet feasts for 20-plus house-guests at a time—and that’s often after a full day of skiing. We’re talking roast turkey with the works; spaghetti and meatballs made with three different kinds of meats; chicken pot pie that gives new meaning to the words “comfort food,” and if a food can be grilled, we'll grill it especially if it’s raining, sleeting, snowing, or below zero degrees and there’s a solid threat that a 6-foot long icicle will fall on our heads at any second. Oh and if it’s pitch dark and head lamps are involved, it’s even better. Extreme grilling. It’s the only way.

My sister mentions that my Mom said she and my dad might make salmon and lentils for dinner one night. WHAT? Stop the car. What planet are they on? Salmon and lentils is a Wednesday night meal, not an I’m-on-vacation-at-the-ski-house-with-my-family-for-an-extended-weekend dinner. A few moments later, I receive a text from my mom.

“Is it raining where you are? It’s pouring here and the temperature is dropping. Drive safely.”

“We don’t want salmon and lentils.”

“Wow, saved by the bell,” she responds. She and my dad were on their way to the store that very minute to pick up ingredients for…you guessed it…salmon and lentils. “Pork roast, sweet potato, and a green vegetable?” she asks.

“Grilled pork loin, mashed potatoes, and green salad, please?”

And so that evening, in a complete deluge, my dad grilled the most incredible spice-rubbed pork you’ve ever tasted while my mom mashed potatoes, put together a green salad, and even churned out homemade apple sauce with freshly picked Vermont apples, cinnamon, and freshly grated nutmeg. It was a feast that filled the very depths of our bellies and even reached our souls. (Or maybe it was the three different kinds of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream for dessert that reached our souls.)

I returned to Chicago after a wonderful, relaxing weekend with my family. Last night, a Wednesday night, I was trying to come up with something I could make for dinner, and the first thing that came to mind was…you guessed it…salmon and lentils. I’ll tell you something—for a quick, healthy, mid-week meal—it was pretty darn good.

The Big Picture

Ever since I started this blogging journey and gave my lifestyle a label (balanced or in search of balance) I’m constantly finding new ways to think about finding the fulcrum in the seesaw of life. Lately, I’ve been thinking about it in terms of The Big Picture.

Here’s how I see it: We try to make smart, healthy choices every day. We try to make them all day every day. But sometimes life makes it difficult for us to be as heroic as we’d like to be. Work gets hectic and your sneakers don’t see the light of day. You get sick or tired or are just sick and tired. You take a vacation. Thai food delivery exists.

It’s easy to get down on yourself when you’re not able to make the healthiest choices. But when you think about things in terms of The Big Picture, you realize that you don’t have to all of the time. In The Big Picture, or the larger scheme of things, it doesn’t make a difference. Your body and your overall health are not influenced by a single day. They’re not even influenced by a single week. It’s what you do over the long run that makes the difference in how you look and feel.

When I was working on The Yoga Body Diet last year, Ayurveda expert John Douillard explained a principle that I’ve since embraced. It’s called the 51 percent rule. As long as you make healthy choices more than half of the time, you’re on the right path. Sure, more is better, but you can feel good about doing the right things most of the time—and your body will benefit. (As you make more and more healthy choices, you’ll feel so good that you’ll continue making them because you want to keep feeling that way.) What’s more, The Big Picture and the 51 percent rule remind me that being healthy is not an all-or-nothing endeavor. That’s why I call a healthy life a balanced life: There’s room for everything in just the right amounts. Thinking about The Big Picture can help you ease up on yourself when you have a tough day or a tough week. If your overall lifestyle is aiming toward healthy, you’re going to be just fine.

The Big Picture can also help you make some decisions a little more easily. A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about how I sometimes have a difficult time deciding between a workout and something else, like dinner with friends. And just earlier this week I wanted to do it all in one day—I wanted to take an hour long walk, I wanted to take a yoga class, and I wanted to whip up a brand new recipe for dinner that I’d already purchased the ingredients to make. As I began to wrap up work, I realized that there was no time to do it all. I also realized that meeting deadlines all day had drained me of a lot of energy, and I needed to make a choice. Sure, this kind of choice is like deciding between a German chocolate and a red velvet cupcake, but I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret at missing out on whichever I didn’t choose. I remembered to consider The Big Picture. I took a moment and realized that as much as I wanted to unroll my mat, I really wanted to get outside and enjoy the beautiful weather (I already feel like the days are numbered before we enter hibernation). Would my mind and body really suffer if I missed out on a few Sun Salutations and handstands? Probably not. I fit in a several mile-long walk and took my dogs to a dog park where they happily expended every last ounce of energy, leaving them only enough to walk home, eat, and sleep until the next day. I knew just how they felt. Still, I made the delicious (and nutritious!) new recipe and kicked back for the rest of the evening, knowing that I had done my body good.

The Big Picture is your secret weapon. It’s guilt’s arch nemesis. It’s perspective and a reality check. And you have my permission to use it any time you need.

One

Sometimes the Universe gives us exactly what we need. Scratch that. The Universe always gives us exactly what we need. Sometimes we accept that.

This weekend, I got exactly what I needed: Down time. Going into this Labor Day weekend, I’ll admit that I wasn’t too excited. Many of my friends were heading out of town and I was staying here with few plans. As someone who loves the comfort of plans, this is a less than ideal situation. But as Friday rolled around, I decided that I could get wound up over my lack of plans, or I could take full advantage of my lack of plans and wind down.

I’ll admit that I spent a fair amount of time at my desk cranking out work over the weekend. For the most part, I did it because I knew that writing a few articles would make this coming week infinitely less hectic—so far I was right. And working felt so different than it normally does. Without the constant ding of new e-mails wooshing into my inbox (since no one else was working) and without the pressure of meeting a deadline that very same day, it felt almost…peaceful. I sat there steadily typing away. I wasn’t worried about what time it was or what I needed to do next. It was as if time didn’t matter.

Over the course of the weekend, this no-plans thing took on a life of its own. I filled each moment with exactly what I wanted to do in that particular moment. Have you ever stopped and asked yourself, “What do I want to do right now?” The answer might surprise you. I got so carried away with the pleasure of answering this question that I couldn’t even commit to plans when plans popped up because I wasn’t sure that’s what I’d want to do when the moment arrived.

Above all, what I needed this weekend was some alone time. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve needed time to recharge. On ski vacations, after days of being in a packed house, I'd instinctively retreat into any empty space I could find in search of a few minutes of inner and outer quiet. Now, I live alone so I thought that I had plenty of alone time, but I don’t. Like the rest of the world, I pack every moment of my day so fully and try to be as productive as I possibly can. Although I may be the only one around, I’m never actually alone.

I realized this weekend that we have to intentionally carve out this time for ourselves every now and then. Fortunately, the Universe handed me exactly that. And for once I accepted it.