Choose the Right

If you've spent much time in an LDS primary, you've certainly had ample opportunity to teach about, sing about and learn about the motto "choose the right". It's such a popular motto that we inscribe it in our jewelry, artwork, Mormon paraphernalia and most definitely our brains. It sticks for life! 

How does one actually follow this admonition? In primary, we teach the children to seek inspiration and to trust the spirit, then you'll know which way is "right" and which way is "wrong". To be fair, it's very good advice for children. For them to be given black-and-white advice is necessary for their black-and-white understanding to grasp. Where trouble occurs is when we continue to teach this motto in YM, YW, EQ, RS and HP. As we grow up, our minds undergo remarkable changes, and we're much more capable of grappling with all the "grayness" of life.

For me, the "right or wrong" narrative seems to have less and less significance in adulthood, and here's why:

How often in life are we faced with a choice between something good and something bad? I would estimate, regularly. Tough decisions have to be made on a regular basis at all stages of life:

• take drugs or "just say no"
• bully the new kid or walk away
• gossip about the loner or befriend the loner
• cheat on your spouse or stay loyal
• embezzle your business funds or keep your integrity intact...

Yet, if we compare the above list to how often we are faced with a choice between something good, and something else that's good, what do we find?

• choosing your spouse
• choosing where to go to school
• choosing what to study
• choosing a career
• choosing a name for your newborn child
• choosing how to invest your money
• choosing where to live
• choosing what home to buy
• choosing how to spend your day
• choosing what to eat, wear, listen to, watch, read, say...

These "good vs. good vs. good" choices are endless and make up the bulk of life. Every day represents hundreds, if not thousands, of these kinds of choices. Agency is an integral part of our mortal experience. So what's our advice now? Does inspiration prompt us in this kind of decision-making? Can we still get away with saying that ONE, and only ONE, of those options is RIGHT and all the others are WRONG?

I once learned that both the Greek and the Hebrew words for "perfect" translate much more accurately as "complete or whole" and have a correlation to the word "ripe". When you pick a perfectly ripe raspberry from the bush, you know it right away. It practically falls off the bush, it's plump, it's bright red, and it bursts with flavor. If you pick an unripe raspberry, you have to force it off the bush, it's color is pale, the texture is too firm, and the flavor is either sour or simply bland. An unripened raspberry is not WRONG, it's just not ready. Or perhaps it just wasn't intended for you at this particular point in time.

What if the bulk of our choices in life are fruit on the vine? When a particular path is opening for us, we simply need to study the signs: is it falling off the vine? Is it a vibrant color? How's the texture? Smell it. Handle it. Taste it. Then you will know if that choice is RIPE for the picking.

I'll be secretly singing this slightly adapted version of the hymn in my heart next Sunday:

Choose the RIPE when a choice is placed before you.

In the RIPE the Holy Spirit guides;

And its light is forever shining o’er you,

When in the RIPE your heart confides.

Choose the RIPE! Let no spirit of digression

Overcome you in the evil hour.

There’s the RIPE and the UNRIPE to ev’ry question;

Be safe thru inspiration’s pow’r.

Choose the RIPE! There is peace in righteous doing.

Choose the RIPE! There’s safety for the soul.

Choose the RIPE in all labors you’re pursuing;

Let God and heaven be your goal.

Choose the RIPE! Choose the RIPE!

Let wisdom mark the way before.

In its light, choose the RIPE!

And God will bless you evermore.

The Great "Partnership"

It's not by chance that the word "Partner" is included in Restorative Partner Yoga; It's integral to the practice. From my earliest training, my mentor, Syl Carson, stressed the importance of mirroring the breath and finding the complementary yoga posture. What that looks like in action? Watching for the rising belly in your client, bringing in your own deep inhale simultaneously, then moving you and your partner into the posture when you see or feel the exhale. It's not enough to simply move someone around in a series of postures. That's Thai Massage. Restorative Partner Yoga happens when the person receiving the session is pulled into a heart-lifting cobra and the person giving the session releases the low back, lifts the heart, drops the shoulders and finds that sweet spot--a modified chair pose. All of this, mind you, at the same time. The roles, at some point, begin to merge. Who is giving? Who is receiving? That is the very heart and soul of this work--in order to give, meaningfully and effectively, you must be able to receive. Certainly this goes both ways. To receive the work, you must give it freely.

Never was this concept more powerfully illustrated for me than when I was wrapping up my certification hours. After twenty-eight hours of Giving, it was unavoidably time to Receive, for two hours of it were required before I could turn in my paperwork. One session. One beautiful, glorious, blissful session. That's when the understanding of reciprocity opened up within me. Had I forgotten what this work was all about? Had I realized how meaningful and deeply restorative this work truly was? I think I had. The secret to it all? Giving IS receiving.




Visit http://www.gobodhiyoga.com/utah-yoga-partner-training/ for more information

The Theory of Re-sensitivity

I've never had a huge tolerance for scary movies, and roller coasters have always seemed daunting and dangerous, but those realities were never enough to hold me back. I always managed to shush my common-sense, grit my teeth, bite off my nails and force myself to enjoy it. And then I would! That is, until recently. The strange phenomenon happened over seven years ago after the birth of my first child, a sweet, darling and somber daughter, which I mention as a side note. During the first few months of my postpartum I was emotional, volatile, and utterly useless. It was a rough adjustment, this thing called "motherhood". So when I sat down to watch a not-even-horror-level-but-mostly-just-morbid movie with my husband and I was haunted for weeks afterwards, I assumed it was just postpartum hormones. Then, several months later, when standing in the shadow of the park's tallest roller coaster, I knew there was no power strong enough on this Earth to make me ride that thing. What was wrong with people? Why was anyone riding it? Did they all have a death wish? No. No. And...no. Several children later, these experiences have been replaying themselves over and over again. I simply cannot do scary--not in the theatre, not in the amusement park. It completely overloads my system and I cannot separate reality from fiction, or thrills from near-death trauma. This is my conclusion: I have been re-sensitized. Children are this way, at first, anyway. It's only after years of exposure and repeated experiential training that children overcome their natural naivete, so to speak. We typically sum it by saying--they're desensitized. We're all desensitized! We can watch a show for the first time and have it shock and scandalize us, but by round two it's par for the course. But here I was, a grown woman, suddenly reverting back to my childlike ways. Something happened in me that undid all that hard work of growing callous and thick-skinned. I was raw and vulnerable. It's never been AS extreme as it was after my first baby, but it's still there. I've never reverted back to my pre-motherhood coaster-riding-scary-movie-watching-self.

So there it is, the theory of re-sensitivity...relatively speaking.

But it doesn't end there. I daresay, that was where it all began. What started as a growing sensitivity to "scary" has evolved into a growing sensitivity to "spirit". As a child, solely out of self-preservation, I consciously and willingly shut down. The method of abuse that my abuser chose to use on me, and my mom, and my sisters, and my girlfriends, and their moms, and the babysitter, and the secretary, etc. was the method of spiritual-ritualistic-manipulation. I don't actually know if such a thing technically exists, but it seems to do my childhood justice. I knew from a young age that God was not safe. If God spoke to men like my dad, then I didn't want Him to talking to me. So...I pulled in the antennae, I deferred to the memorized Mormon catechisms, and resolved to be a "good girl" with no help from anyone.

Then love came. And babies. Which brought more love, and awakening. And this wild dance of Earth and Sky took place in my heart, Shiva and Shakti shattered the glass. Mother Kundalini hissed her wrath and scorched her slithering trail of fury and redemption. Motherhood and Wifehood felt like an ill-fitted dress, or like the glass-slipper on the step-sisters foot...MY foot. But I danced the dance, I cried my buckets full, I let the forest fire burn off until the word sanctified flitted across my consciousness. And what was I left with? Sensitivity. It had been so long. But the work of motherhood and wifehood drew it up and out of me.

Still yet, the story deepens. From that sensitivity sprang up a call for God. I sought Him, finally. Yoga started me on the path of reconnecting to my physical body, because I had long since abandoned it. With that yoking stronger and surer ever day, it extends now to the mind and soul. It's no accident I felt led to RPY. With every session, I feel my antennae extending up and out, I feel the need to slow down and listen, I feel the urge to trust my instincts, I feel the subtle guidance and influence of "spirit". This is selfishly and whole-heartedly MY work, give it as I may.



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