Linda on the mid-row machine a few years ago.
Broke the first Rule of Kath twice this week. On Wednesday, I took Linda to her doctor’s appointment to get her staples removed. She asked that I pick her up at 9:30.
In. The. Morning.
The First Rule of Kath
No humans before 11 AM.
Because if I have to deal with humans before 11 AM there’s no time for the Meditative Morning.
And when the Meditative Morning gets squeezed out because I’ve agreed to break The First Rule of Kath by interacting with humans, rather than reading, writing, and meditating, bad things happen.
My nervous system becomes dysregulated.
I can’t cope with our current dystopian nightmare of a political system, and then I start to circle the drain, and become anxious, sad, enraged, and unable to sleep.
Whereas, if I spend a Meditative Morning doing my foundational practices, I am able to “touch grass.”
A 3-page pen-write with purple ink opens the lines of communication between me and my inner wisdom guide.
Twenty minutes of meditative headspace allows me time to remember to be grateful for my privileged life, the people I love and who love me back, and my great good fortune to be in great health, and be able to do and teach yoga.
But I was very happy to forgo my meditative morning to help Linda after this hip replacement surgery, even if it meant interacting with her before eleven A.M.
It feels really good to be able to help someone.
And she is very grateful. And she’s in good spirits.
And she’s not a complainer, and she will tell you exactly what she needs. And she exhibits no self-pity.
She’s also okay with me sashaying into her house and doing stuff, unasked.
Yesterday I brought over a mattress cover for the pull-out she’s been sleeping on. That thing was as hard as a rock. I could feel the iron frame through the pathetically thin mattress.
One thing I’ve noticed about Linda is that she lives a very Spartan lifestyle.
I admire her minimalism, even if it is forced upon her by her extremely small house.
I used to think I lived in the kind of house storybook rabbits live in! But she’s the one with the true rabbit house! When I come home from her place and walk into my own small kitchen, I think: Wow, how spacious!
But while I respect her lack of stuff, I do not respect her apparent disregard for luxury.
Why the hard bed? For instance.
Why the rough, scratchy sheets and towels?
If you’re going to have very few things, why not have wonderful, soft, luxurious things?
Why not one beautiful, fluffy spa towel? Why not one set of high-thread-count sateen sheets?
It’s probably a generational thing.
Yesterday I took the scratchy muslin fitted sheet off her mattress and laid down the spongy soft mattress pad. Then I replaced the muslin fitted sheet with a buttery soft one.
I, myself, felt much better.
But even though I haven’t heard yet if she liked the new bedding, I can imagine Linda preferring the rough muslin sheets, I really can. I can hear her say, “But I LIKE the feel of muslin! I really do!
And I think: Of course she does! These are probably the fabrics of her childhood. The scratchiness could be comforting to her.
And I get it.
A little.
Kinda.
But not really.
As I’ve been helping Linda, I’ve become newly aware of the need for the kinds of help I’m providing. I’m finding out that there are quite a few people around here whose lives would be infinitely easier with a person who could take them to appointments, do their laundry, or take them shopping.
Not nursing care, just little things like replacing a washer on a drippy faucet, raking leaves, or shoveling snow.
I feel grateful I’m in a position to help. I say this to my yoga classes:
You think you’re doing this practice for yourself?
You think this practice is your personal self-care?
It’s not. It’s for you, yeah, of course. But it’s more for the people who depend on you to be healthy and calm. Because when you’re healthy and regulated, you can be truly present.
And when you’re truly present, you can show up for yourself, and also for the people you love and who depend on you (kids, parents, friends, co-workers).
When you’re healthy, you can help the people who aren’t.
You can be there when the people you love need you.
One big reason I feel so good about helping Linda is that Linda helps herself.
Linda takes care of herself.
Linda’s not sick due to years of self-neglect.
She needs my help now, because she decided, at 83, to have a hip replacement so she could continue to move and live her active life.
She’s brave, and she’s scrappy. She doesn’t have an ounce of self-pity. She just gets up, grabs the handles of her walker, and forges into the day.
Does she get tired? Sure! She’s human, but when she’s tired, she rests.
She says her big goal is to get back to yoga.
And what is the posture she’s dying to do again?
TADASANA.
Freaking Mountain Pose.
Do you know what’s involved in doing Mountain Pose?
I’ll tell you.
1. Anchor your feet with your weight evenly distributed.
2. Engage your core.
3. Roll your shoulders back.
4. Keep your chin even with the floor.
5. Keep your arms at your side.
Stand there. Perfect posture. That’s it.
That’s the pose she wants most to do again.
With her wonky hip, she couldn’t get her weight distributed even in her feet. One leg was shorter. Standing meant leaning into one leg more than the other.
This new hip will correct that imbalance and enable her to stand evenly on her two feet again.
She keeps saying how much she wants to get back to yoga.
I say her whole life is yoga.
She’s doing the purest form of the practice I’ve ever seen, and she’s doing it every damned day.
She’s my teacher. Not the other way around.
Inspiration Location 