How to practice when hell’s freezing over
by Angela
Yesterday, a wave of sadness crushed me to the rocky ocean floor and held me under for an hour. You can read my personal thoughts about that, or just jump to the numbered list below for the practical stuff.
I came in from an appointment, closed the curtains, sat on the sofa and cried. When the chemical-emotional wave ended, some part of my nervous system refused to let it go. So, without realizing what was happening or why, I started thinking sad thoughts. My imagination went on search, landing on a succession of increasingly sad subjects: homeless people; then the hundreds of orphan children I grew up with; then on to wars in the middle east.
This is one way an unenlightened nervous system works under stress. It solidifies the exact experience it wishes it weren’t having. It seizes upon—and identifies with—the thoughts, images and emotions that hurt the most.
Some part of the system relishes the strong sensations of suffering, insists on suffering at all costs. Otherwise, how do I know who I am?
Strong sensation lets me know I’m alive. When that sensation is negative, and not accompanied by equanimity (radical freaking acceptance) it lets me experience myself as separate from everything else. It’s a setup. Suffering + “I’m special and different†= huge ego boost. Getting off on negativity is a version of this: self-loathing and self-congratulation are ego hangups of equal magnitude. They’re both just separateness trips.
It’s all ok. I don’t mind a little ego drama in myself. It is actually important to go to the crossroads and think, hard, about homelessness and war. It is interesting to have full experiences of the range of pleasure and pain. And it opens up space for love when I understand, and then stop getting off on, what it feels like to be radically alone.
But seriously. My seasonal affective jag does not equal homelessness and war. I am not my seasonal affective jag. Because I’m not it, there’s no shame in going through it. And maybe, it’s not just me who feels this. Which would mean this suffering (like all suffering) does not make me special. Instead, the suffering is exactly what makes me just like (almost) everyone else.
I wanted to open up about this in honor of anyone who sensed that an energetic, hormonal or emotional low was part of the territory the past three days. Some of you are stable enough in your yoga practices that you didn’t feel it. Thank you for that stability. If I were only doing my personal practice and not teaching so intensely, I’d likely be with you. This is because when practice stabilizes, the ups and downs become gentle. That’s kind of the point.
But back to the stormy sea. Anyone else cold and nauseous? Darn if this is not a cold, cold ocean. So. Are we going to practice with this situation or what?
YES. But now I’m just talking to those of you who want to do what you want to do. You who have already committed to showing up here, consistently, not for me but for yourself. You who are with me on valuing equanimity as a developmental skill, to using the resistance life throws you to make your practice so much more effective than it would be under “ideal†conditions. So, my job for you is to support that aspiration, to hold you accountable, and to share with you my unshakeable understanding that this is a very, very, very good idea.
I’m not going to try to work the push factors. It’s just not my way. The truth is that my experience of unbroken practice is sourced in love. Practice just really turns me on. I can’t teach you to practice from guilt or shame or self-punishment because I don’t know how. I know people fuel self-punishing neuroses to propel spiritual practice all the time, but it isn’t necessary. Pull factors are what I understand.
So here’s what I’ve got so far. Like all the lists here, it’s a living document open to revision. To improve it, I’d love to add your experiences. Please talk to me about what works for you, or leave your findings in the comments.
1.
One easy way to stay in your practice when there is resistance is by deciding to be awesome. The dead of winter can be a kind of hero’s jourey. And you can use it to discover – and to decide – what you are made of.
The dark side of being a hero is that any stories about how hardcore it is to do what we do will just have to get dismantled later. If it gets you across the squalls of Februrary to think like a badass, ok. But leave the sleek fire-powered Batman wetsuit on the shore when you get to the other side. That thing will get hard to carry, especially when saturated with last season’s stories.
2.
Take a hot shower in the morning. Let the water run on the crown of the head and down the spine. Feel your feet get very warm. Stay in the water just a little longer than you usually would. Same principle at practice: if you wear a long-sleeve layer, leave it on a little longer than you usually would.
3.
Note that practice will give energy, not take it. The Mysore room is a resource for you. It has been created to give you energy, and to ease the everyday resistance that comes with having a body.
This fact might not come immediately to mind if you ask yourself whether you want to go to practice at the one moment you least want to move – in a warm soft bed in the. If you catch the thought “Practice will take too much energy,†please question it or subject it to an empirical test. I sumbit that practicing more + decreased resistance about practicing = waay more energy.
As always, it doesn’t matter what your practice looks like, or how many postures you do. Surya namaskara + savasana = practice. What gives energy is to move and breathe, in the morning, with a single-minded awareness, and with the support of the community, teacher and subtle energy that make the room what it is.
4.
As Amy told me last year, the Mysore room is also a source of long-term internal heat. This is a place where you can heat up your core body temperature warmer than is possible anywhere else. As a result, you will be far more warm all day long.
5.
This isn’t a time that one can afford the energy suck of emotional eating. It isn’t the time to fall back on sugar, excessive wheat or other drug-like foods that leave a hangover.
I assume folks aren’t that in to alcohol, since it is depressive, and toxic, and makes twisting painful. But my husband says that the winter weeknight wallow is such a part of Ann Arbor intellectual culture that I should talk about it for the academics. I don’t know. I always toasted my professors’ cognac with tea back at the UCLA faculty club; it was nice. If eating late, having a beer and staying up an extra hour right now feels like a good idea, ok, that is one coping strategy. It sabotages practice. Please don’t try to do both. Trying to do both is torture. Usually, torture leads to unhappiness.
6.
Gear. Those who have lived here more than a year and aren’t too hip to wear NorthFace know how this works. (My gear is mostly from the thrift store.) If you moved here lately, ask anyone. It’s about a burly winter coat, actual boots, and all the layers you can find. The whole package costs less than a plane ticket to the islands. Please don’t just wait for winter to end: it won’t.
7.
Carpool. A few people are doing this and say it helps tremendously. They say the main resistance to frequent practice is the work it takes to leave the house. Knowing someone is waiting for you cuts through that resistance. Simple.
8.
Or walk. It’s a half mile from my house to the shala. Under all these thrift store layers with Jayashree in the headphones and fire in my belly at 4:30 in the morning, I am sweating by the time I get to the shala door. Even on the mornings it’s below zero. Try it. Could be awesome.
9.
Choose your stories deliberately. They are part of the deep structure of the nervous system.
Here’s an example. I severely frost bit my right foot 15 years ago while sleeping in a snow cave for a month. Not a good scene. For years afterwards, I would lose sensation from the knee down as soon as temps dropped below about 40. This was experienced as a re-traumatization, bringing with it fear and anger. Restoring sensation to the foot was painful, requiring gradual soaking and self-massage. The layers of association of this history with my experience of cold are complex and subtle, and have offered an awesome opportunity to do nervous system surgery on myself this winter. Turns out there is no necessary connection between that older, much less mature, experience of cold and my new experiences of Ann Arbor winter.
But there are other associations I’ve actually revived for the sake of amusement. For example, way down deep, my body remembers ice skating for miles on bumpy frozen irrigation ditches across Montana cornfields when I was a kid. Calling forth that gleeful young ice-skater, and letting her reinhabit me makes skating down treacherous ice-covered streets outright joyous in the early morning hours. My whole body relaxes into the bizarreness of my situation, and adult-y complaints about dangerous street conditions fall away. Kids are smart: they love winter.
10.
Drop your awareness into the belly and leave it there. Draw up your mula bandha, soften the front of the belly, and practice deep breathing into the abdomen. Really deep, even breathing. Imagine a little flame there in the belly, flickering brighter and brighter as you stoke it with breath. Turn the belly into a little crockpot, or as Rachel says, a portable heater. Feel the heat from this fire in the belly radiate up the body and out into the limbs. Get familiar with this technique while seated, and then learn to do it while walking around.
I wouldn’t say this if it didn’t work as well or better than this other practical stuff. If you practice ashtanga yoga, you can make contact with and use subtle body practices of this kind. Do not waste time: if you relentlessly keep drawing your awareness inside and feeling your inner experience very closely, you will learn to interact consciously with your own nervous system.
This too is the point of practice – getting focused and smart enough with your energy and your mind that you can just play with and be fully alive in whatever circumstances. Sadness, coldness, tiredness; vitality, warmth, joy. It is all here.
Very grateful for this.
I love feeling useful. Thank you.
Thank you for opening up and sharing. This was especially useful during those cold, dreary winter months.
This was lovely. Thank you for #6 — too often I find myself saying “if I make it to March I can do anything.” Instead of diving into enjoying all that February has to offer. (oh, and I live in DC where cold mornings are most often around the mid-thirties, not below zero!
Lovely!…a ray of warmth in February
this may sound absurd, or even offensive to people from places like michigan, but i deal with winter issues down here in miami. it’s not so much about the cold, obviously, but the about the light. for me the worst time is from end of daylight savings, til just about now, when i can notice the days are getting longer, if only just. so thank you for this. this is the second entry i’ve read of this blog and i really dig it.
Epic.
thanks angela. this sadness hit me in the form of bad morning dreams – tuesday and wednesday i woke up miserable and especially wednesday (when i didn’t have to teach) i didn’t manage to pull myself out of it much all day. misery usually makes me feel pretty unspecial though. staying there feels mostly like inertia when i can’t find the ounce of energy or motivation (see unspecialness) i need to step out of the negative loop. i know exactly what you’re saying about practice giving energy, but in the thick of it the knowledge often isn’t enough for me to take the first steps. i’m glad i found my way out this morning!
Thanks for these suggestions. I love #3 and #10. Patrick, I have had worse SAD issues in Denver than I did in Northeast Ohio for some reason. I think it is the altitude and also the place has never been that kind to me in general. This is my first year practicing Ashtanga and it has helped me more with SAD than anything – even the light box. Last year I was considering ECT treatments it was so bad. I still get a bit down if it gets grey here, but I can deal with that too from the witness perspective that I get from my practice. Not sure though how I would do if it went on and on. Ironically, I may be moving to Michigan, so I follow these posts as I plan to check out Ann Arbor. Having a place to practice is important to me. I must work on the getting up early part, however. I tend to practice at night as I have chronic fatigue and pain in the mornings, though I know I have to find a way to work through that one at some point.
This is just beautiful. You’re serving a wonderful purpose this winter, stuck over there in the cold… not only to your own students, but to all of us, even the lucky ones here in beautiful Mysore. You are a rock! Thank you for your writings and friendship <3
Angeli-ji, you are something. Walking to the studio at 4:30 on a frigid morning would BE my practice – !! I’d just go inside and sleep on the mat after that. Lots of love, I miss you so much.
Patrick and Cat, yes, I it makes sense that variations in the day’s length would affect you at any latitude and climate. Cat, I have seen the effects in Denver and up in Montana, but rarely seen this be conscious on the part of people experiencing it. Sounds like your experience is intense enough to remove all doubt. Bless.
Patrick, the idea that it would be offensive that you’d experience this is so funny. Because you’re right! I can see how it would be offensive. I guess if I listed the average temps at 4:30 am or the average sunrise/sunset times in January, it would offer some context, but there are also a lot of mitigating circumstances. For example, snow is really fun and beautiful. And humans and pets get ultra cuddly this time of year. And the collective gratitude for the practice and the community here gives strength and happiness. You might actually find it easier to be here than a Miami winter. 🙂
sw, of course. I do think that holding out hope for all this to end a useful coping strategy. But it actually short circuits the possibilities for really getting intimate with this experience. So it bores me a bit. 🙂
Current weather: cloudy and sleeting. A tenth-inch of black ice covers most roads, due to freezing rain last night. I won’t lie. It’s outrageously beautiful. And having the sun hide itself from here for two months now has made me realize how much I depend on, and love, and more or less worship it. Thanks for showing up today, sun, even if you didn’t roll in until 7:50am.
Lu, Christine, Elise, Lisa, Susan, Emily, much love. Thank you for your practice.
That’s great, thanks for sharing Angela. What a coincidence, i went through a similar intense emotional experience a few days ago (it’s been a cold, long winter up here in Ottawa). It was so hard not to get caught in the drama of it; the stories start to churn, the mind looks for reasons why this is happening, how do i get out of this, etc etc. So hard to just stay with what was arising without pushing it away. The off-the-mat practice is certainly the hardest series for me.
Cheers
MERCI !!
Well said, thank you. Northern California goes nowhere close to the depths of winter that the northern states experience, but it’s plenty cold enough for me. I like what you said (in an earlier comment) that holding out hope for the end prevents an intimacy with the experience. So true. Not just for the weather but for the varied discomforts of life.
cool. logical.
<3
kind of makes me miss winter. you are a deep thinker and clear communicator, thank you for sharing.
Thanks A for sharing. Interesting, thoughtful, provoking, affirming. Can you help me coordinate carpool from the near ypsi area?
Love, love, this list. Wise and down to earth (or should it be “down to snow”). Thanks, Angela.
Some of this is practical. Some is not. But it works for me in Edinburgh (the land that summer forgot).
Black tea with chilis. Extra backbends. Hot baths, and sauna if you can get it. Sing on the way to the shala. Sing LOUDLY on the way to the shala. The guy out walking his dog will sometimes join in, and this leads to… laugh. Even if you don’t want to at first. Laugh lots. Crack yourself up. Get a warm fuzzy hat and mits that you loooooooove. Notice every morning that frost lit by streetlamps is beautiful. If possible, throw snowballs. Train yourself to remember that the shala is much warmer than your house (this may not apply in other places, but is nearly always true in Scotland, where houses are old and drafty).
What an excellent post. I moved to Maine in 1989 and I haven’t been warm since. I do not like winter, no I do not. And all you say is true. Winter presents much opportunity for practice. And snow is beautiful – the town plow pushed up a bank of it at the end of the driveway about four feet high on Saturday. Lots of beauty to be shoveled. It could be that my attitude is part of the problem. (you lived in a snow cave for a month???)
Hi Elli, Joy, Bindi, Mara, Erin, D, Scott, Bharat, Sinead. Thank you.
Melissa. Yes. On it.
Scott and Elli, stay warm. Your far, far north of Ann Arbor.
Bharat. Snow cave. Yes, January 1998. Three Sisters Wilderness in eastern Oregon for a month. Telemarking in the back country, carrying all our food and other provisions on sleds. I brought a 0 degree bag since, coming from Montana, I considered Oregon winters to be softcore. But the nights were colder than 0; coming in as low as -17 on our little jacket-zip thermometers. My feet and hands did not take it well at the time.
Sinead, I love this. Going on the next version, all of it. Once again, I see equanimity in your way of being. 🙂
To the degree that suggestions are impractical, they may actually be especially useful. Hilarity helps.
Angela – totally in awe of your ability to step off the emotional roller coaster must faster than most.
I fall victim to the habits of my mind all the time. One piece of shocking news, and bam my mind is on an out of control thought train without brakes fueled by fear from past emotional harms. Still learning what to do about that pattern, but practice, and someone who knows what you are going through to point out your patterns, helps! Practice is like a reset button sometimes for brain/body in the am.
As for practice early in the cold, short days I seriously doubted I could get through this winter after being out west for the past fours years – practice has been my salvation! I left Michigan because of the winter, but practice keeps my energy up when there isn’t much daylight. And I prefer to practice in sleepy mode – gives me the space to gain traction on that whole focus/concentration thing to get me in that mode for my entire day, as opposed to letting the freight train of useless rumination rule my world. So no loud music for me in the am.
Wonderful advise, Angela. I especially like your point about the practical use of subtle body experience. I’ve had lots of ups and downs lately – caused by various outer circumstances, clamped on to by my ego and then blown out of proportion until I’m in a frenzy. Then I remember: oh yeah! If I just stay here for a while, if I breath it all on so deeply, my body actually knows what to do with this – even if the rest of me doesn’t.
Love your blog. I went to school at U of M and I fondly remember my time in A2. I’m hoping maybe to get back there this summer and perhaps I can take a class or two at the shala?
At any rate, I started a yoga blog of my own and I linked to you in the sidebar, if that’s okay. Check it out if you’re so inclined!