Meditation for People Who Can’t Sit Still

Recently, I’ve been asked many times if I meditate by various people, and what my opinions of meditation are. For the people who know me, they know I can’t sit still for more than a couple minutes at a time, mostly because if I do, my stegaback tells me it’s not happy. It likes good movement. 

                   

                                           Stega. Can you spot it?                                              Believe it or not, this is actually good for my back!! 

                                                                                                                                              #livetoplay #strengththerapy                    

                                                                                      

For the record, pre-stega, I was able to sit/stand still for hours on end. When you’re a black belt in martial arts at belt testings, you have to stand for the duration of test while you watch others be tested....and you’re on call for being their testing opponent. I had to learn how to stand in the same spot, same position for a couple hours without making my joints hurt too badly. 

But now, with the stega, I’m forced to change positions every couple minutes or so (unless I’m lying down), so I don’t cause any pain for the next few days. Anyone with a bad back will be able to relate to that. 

This is how I sit. If I'm lucky. 

Having the stega has forced me to find different ways to accomplish the same things I did without the stega. Movement has been big in my life, and so has being mindful. As I got repeatedly formally introduced to meditation by a few people in the past several years, I realized that meditation is more about the state of mind and self-awareness than it is about sitting still with your legs crossed in silence. The things you accomplish during meditation should be pretty simple and clear: Know yourself more. Tune out the rest of the noise. Have a clear mind and concise intention. 

I believe these things can be done without silence. I believe they can be done without sitting or not moving. Of course, you can choose to meditate the traditional way if that works for you, but I don’t think it’s the only way. 

In school, I could never just study or even listen to lectures with complete focus without some sort of distraction. I would even tell my professors that I would have facebook open to provide short-term distractions so I could listen and pay attention to the lecture better. Sometimes I’d doodle. Sometimes I’d do work from other classes. I just needed something else there so that I could pay attention.

Eating, for example, you can meditate. You can be aware of what food is in front of you. Where the food came from, how it was cooked, what each bite tastes like, what the texture is. How’s the temperature? How do you feel when you put each bite in your mouth? Are you getting satiated? Should you eat more? Do you need more? Does this food make you feel good, clean, light, and satisfied? Do you need to add something to it, or is it fine the way it is?

By the way, meditative eating is an excellent way for people recovering from eating/food disorders to prevent going back into their old habits. Mindless eating is one of the biggest reasons why people eat too much. 

Some people use movement for their meditation. Even something as simple and common as walking. How do your feet feel on the ground? Where is your weight distributed? How does the rest of your body feel while walking? Are you walking with good posture? Is your torso rotating? Hips rotating? Good heel strike? Good supination and pronation? How is your pinky toe doing over there? 

And yet another form of meditation is just simply good goal-setting. Writing down things you want to get done. Why you want to get to that goal, and how to get there. What are the steps you need to take, what obstacles are you likely to encounter, and how are you going to approach those obstacles?

Meditating is just clearing out the noise and getting to know yourself a little better. Slow down, ask yourself questions, and notice how certain things make you feel, inside and out. You don’t have to sit in silence to make it work. Sometimes you need a little distraction to make the noise go away. 

Lessons From My Dad

My dad's life was celebrated 2 days ago. His 81 years of life. I'd only known him for 33 of those 81 years. My brother delivered the eulogy, and my dad's best friends spoke (my godbrother Steven spoke in lieu of my late godfather, who would have made the round complete). I learned a bit about my dad's history, pre-USA. I had heard the stories before, just not from those perspectives. I also had a chance to speak. I winged it. I wanted it to come from the heart. Reflecting over the last several weeks, I didn't really have much I wanted to share that people didn't already know. They knew he was funny, they knew he liked to eat, and they knew they liked him. I wanted people to know a different side of him. At the very last minute, I decided to speak about him as a father, since that had not been done yet, and I thought people should hear what a great father he was, since they already knew what a great friend he was.

My dad taught me in various ways (many he probably didn't even realize he was teaching me something valuable). He taught me to work hard to get what you want. He set the example with his entire life. He left mainland China to go to Taiwan when he was 11, selling newspapers to survive. His family couldn't go with him, so he was on his own. After he graduated college, he came to North America off borrowed money with nothing but the shoes on his feet, the clothes on his back, and a cardboard box of books. He got his masters in Canada, and moved to Michigan. He eventually got a job as a metallurgist in a tiny town called Greenville, and put up with decades of discrimination. This job kept our family financially comfortable. It allowed my brother and I a full-time mother, and the ability to see our dad every day and all weekends. It allowed family vacations, travel, good food, a house on the lake, 2 cars, and a boat. He put up with shit so his family could be taken care of. All he wanted was the best for his family. He didn't want us to go through anything close to what he had gone through growing up. He succeeded. 

My dad taught me quality over quantity. Obviously, he didn't grow up with money. He didn't spend frivolously. He only spent what was necessary, and when he was able to, he would pay himself back with something nice. It was always good quality. Why waste hard-earned money on something that will break, or not satisfy? Save a little extra, make the better quality purchase, and enjoy that purchase much more, and for a much longer time. 

Possessions are meant to be temporary. My dad was always wanting to purge things. Things that weren't being used, things that were just taking up space, things that were unnecessary. No sense in using up valuable space with junk. 

Appreciate the simpler things in life: nature, the view, flowers, food. Take the time to be in it, enjoy it, soak it all up. It does something to you that material possessions can't. Spend money on experiences. Experience things that are already free. Take nothing for granted. What's there today may not be there tomorrow.

My parents eating dinner on the patio, enjoying the view (which was the reason my dad bought the house)

Travel. Go places you haven't gone before. Take a shitload of pictures. My godbrother said that my dad was taking pictures of food before it was a thing. He told a story of when my dad had made a table of 10 hungry people (our 3 families) wait to eat a lobster dinner in Maine because he had to get the proper lens for his camera to take a picture of the lobsters lined up on the table. Dad took a lot of pictures everywhere we went.

Play. I never knew, but out of the "3 Chinese Musketeers" (my dad and his 2 best friends), my dad was the crazy one. Steven had mentioned that my dad was "the cool uncle" with his cool car, speed boat, cameras, and immediate willingness to participate in anything fun (he, without a blink, volunteered to be on the bottom of a human trapezoid---his solution to 1 too many for a human pyramid---with 4 teenagers and his 2 toddler children on top. The picture is epic). There's also a picture of him sitting on a white yak in Tibet (or somewhere like that) with his arms reached out like he was the King of the World ....at age 79. Another of him after a couple hour stair climb to a high temple in China...standing on one foot, tilted starfish pose. Age 78, I believe. I hope I'm still like that when I'm 78.

 79 years young

Tilted Starfish pose

Do things properly. Don't half-ass it. Be able to be proud of your work. My dad would sometimes spend a little too much time on projects, just to get them as perfect as he could. But he was always putting out quality work. He had a pile of patents under his belt, and various home projects that you would have sworn a professional carpenter had put together. His written work was always well thought out and triple checked. 

Never give up on your dream, no matter what life throws at you. It took my dad 30 years of hard work to get to the point where he could take a breath of air without worrying about where his next meal would come from. My dad married my mom at 45 (waited until he was financially capable of supporting a family). Kids at 46 and 47. Retired at 67. Moved to California at 69. Hiked the mountains of China at 79. Built an entertainment center at 80 (his last finished project). 

Be able to be independent. Don't rely on others. Be able to do everything yourself if need be. Figure it out. Get creative. Problem solve. If something you need doesn't exist or isn't available, create it. He was the McGuyver before McGuyver. 

Have a solid support system. Create your family. Blood, or otherwise. You really can't do it all by yourself, nor should you. Ask for help when you need it, and accept help when needed and offered. Always repay your debts. Never expect others to repay theirs. He was one of the most rationally selfless people I knew.

Of course, there are tons of other lessons my dad taught me. The list is pretty long. So many memories with my dad. I'm lucky to have had him as a father. He is missed dearly, but his impact on others will stay around for a very, very long time. I'd like to say his spirit lives within me, but if I can even have 1/10th of his spirit show through me, I'd be pretty damn lucky.

I love you, Dad

A Different Type of Rehab

Therapy and Rehabilitation comes in many forms.



It could mean physical therapy/rehab.

It could mean seeking a psychiatrist.

It could mean writing/drawing/creating.



Know your audience.



Lately, I've tried several ways to help my dad rehabilitate from all the medical procedures he's had from his cancer treatments. He's 81. Five years ago, his doctor told him he had the health/body of a 55 y/o. He was active, socially, physically, and mentally. And then came the diagnosis. Since then, he's adapted to the role of cancer patient. Lots of rest, stress (self-induced, as he is a natural worrier), and stubborn as hell (well, that's normal for him).

Over the course of the last 3 years, his health has declined more than I could have ever imagined. He could no longer rotate any part of his body (he looked like Batman when he wanted to turn to look at something). During my infrequent trips back home in the past year, I tried various ways of helping him regain his physical strength and mobility, and mental health. Short walks, sit-to-stands and general strengthening, getting him to get out of bed in general. I was met with, at best, extremely short-lived attempts (usually one or two days at the most). The most that happened was my mom being successful in bribing him to watch tv shows in the living room (got him out of bed), and between shows to get up and walk around and drink some water before she put the next show on (ended up being about once every 2-3 shows).

A few weeks ago, we got some even more devastating news that his oncologist was lying to us since the beginning, and his prognosis was worse than she'd been telling us (We fired her after that, by the way).

Since then, I made the decision to move back to California, to help my dad live the rest of his life as happy and capable as he can, and to prevent my mom from letting her health go from inactivity due to being a sole caretaker (which had happened for over 7 months since last May, after my dad's last surgery).

I had a deep talk with my dad shortly after the terrible news. He'd been stuck in the mentality of needing help, needing to be taken care of, needing to not do anything because he's fragile. He was afraid of dying. Understandable. I explained to him again the details and severity of what had happened with the oncologist, and what that meant for him. I acknowledged his fear of dying, but raised the question of what he wants to do with the rest of his life. How did he want to live?

I encouraged him to start incorporating small, menial tasks into his daily life. Things that he didn't consider "exercise," but they involved functions that he was either quickly losing, or had already lost. Making his bed in the morning, opening his pill and water bottles by himself, washing and preparing fruit he wanted to eat, dressing himself, opening doors, getting in and out of the car by himself. I refuse(d) to help him with anything less than lifting something over 10 pounds.

He wants to be the patient because he doesn't feel well. He wants to be taken care of. But he now also understands the importance of doing little things every day to regain/maintain normal function. He knows he doesn't want to be an invalid laying on a bed for the remainder of his life. He now makes more of an attempt to be a normal person, including accompanying my mom to the senior center while she plays ping pong with their friends. He socializes while she plays. He leaves the house and breathes the fresh air and gets more sun now. He washes some dishes (no knives). He kind of cleans up after himself. He does and folds his own laundry. He's now playing mahjong with friends on a weekly basis. His spirit is much more alive.

I don't know much time my dad will have left on this earth, but I do know that he's trying to make it the best time that he can.

Rehabilitation can happen at any age, at almost any condition. You just have to find the thing that will light the fire in them.

And then, baby steps. Consistency is the most important. If the steps are too big, it is not sustainable. Baby steps. It will take trial, error, patience, encouragement, and stern love.

Most importantly, it will take actionable love.

Resolutions and Goals are Pointless

It's that time of year again. Goals and resolutions for the upcoming year. What do you have as yours? Weight loss? Saving money? Travel? Quit smoking? It's nice to have aspirations of being a better version of yourself, and we've all heard that writing down our goals increase our chances of actually reaching them by 60% or whatever (because 60% of the time, it works 100% of the time), so that's what we do.

The thing is, even if you've written down your goal for the upcoming year (and it was a pretty easy one to think up, because it's the same one you've had for the last few years as well), what are you going to do about it? Most people are all about getting inspired, which is why all those motivational posts, videos, and stories are so popular. Those allow viewers to get the "slow clap" feeling of ambition and then are inspired to "do something great." And that's where most people stop. That's also where anything goal-oriented stops. They just get the feeling, the inspiration, maybe an idea or two, and then....go to the next thing that will hold their attention for a couple minutes.

Then there are some people who are inspired and actually write down their aspirations (or goals, or resolutions, whatever you want to call them), because, well, that's how things happen, right? Don't get me wrong, writing your goals down is a great thing. It solidifies your want, it uses multiple sensory input and outputs to help you remember that's what your goal is, and it (if put in a strategic location) reminds you daily about what your goal is. Great. Now what? Wait?

I heard something about some guy named Santa, a lady called the Tooth Fairy, and some Fairy Godmother or some sort....

Ever since we've been kids, we've been led to believe that if we want something, we just wish for it, tell someone about it, and then magically, at the right time, it comes to us (I'm actually very happy my parents never introduced me to these mythical providers). And now, with the Strawberry Generation (look it up) and their sense of entitlement, it's even more so turning into a world of spoiled kids waiting for their piece of the pie. Don't let this be you. And if you realize this is you, stop being part of it. You're not doing anything to help society or yourself.

I digress....

So you have this list of goals or wants. What's the next step? There needs to be an action that will bring you closer to getting what you want. In comes the Plan of Action. Draw/write out a plan. Even if it's on a napkin, the back of a coloring page for your 7 y/o niece, or whatever. This Plan of Action should be altered several times, as you will revise it to fit a realistic version of your life and efforts (and include any high-chanced obstacles), rather than your "head in the clouds" goal. You should have a total of 3 versions, a low (if everything fails, this should still happen), a middle (if things go like I planned realistically), and a high (if everything goes perfectly). It's kind of like college applications. You have a safety net, a "probably going to end up going to" school, and a "if I'm lucky and they for whatever reason pick me because Admissions wanted a charity case" school. Each one of these should have some sort of step by step and written out process, varying basically with quantifications of each step. Add up the steps and see where each path leads you. These are your low, middle, and high goals. The low one should feel pretty comfortable. The middle should feel pretty exciting. The high one should make you feel pretty uncomfortable and question your capabilities.

Now that you have a plan (which should have included a start and end date, and hopefully landmark dates in the middle), time to set it into action! Make all the preparations you need to allow your plan to go as smoothly as possible. It's like packing for a trip. Get all the things you need together, put them all where they need to go, and then go on your trip. Sometimes you'll need help along the way (know when it's a good situation to figure things out for yourself, but also when you should ask for outside help). You'll also find that your goals and plan will change as you're following it. This is normal and to be expected. Just go with the flow, and make adjustments. In the end, you'll have made much more progress towards your goal than if you had just done what you always did in the past (that, well, never worked, because otherwise you wouldn't have had the same goal again).

"Belly Breathing" is Still Poor Breathing

Breathing dysfunctions are appearing on more people's radars, especially chest-breathers. It seems like all you need to do to get "healthy" breathing is to practice belly breathing. In fact, many fitness and health professionals are even telling their clients to breathe with their bellies. The truth is, if you only breathe with your belly, you're still doing it wrong.

The respiration system is compiled from various musculatures (among other structures, but we'll only focus on the involved muscles for the purposes of simplicity), including but not exclusive to the scalenes, SCM (sternocleidomastoid), subclavius, internal and external intercostals, rectus abdominis, transverse abdominis, internal and external obliques, psoas, quadratus lumborum, the pelvic floor, and of course, the diaphragm.

(photo from physio-pedia.com)

All of these muscles are important in the inspiration and expiration stages of breathing. Habitual breathing (not using focus or for sport) should include the concentric activation of the inspiration muscles (diaphragm, internal intercostals), and accessory muscles (pectoralis minors, SCMs, scalenes), and pelvic floor, along with the relaxation of the expiration muscles (external intercostals, transverse abdominals, rectus abdominis, internal/external obliques, quadratus lumborum, and psoas) during inhalation, and the opposite during exhalation. A chest breather will only use their upper structures to complete the breathing cycle, completely ignoring the use of their abdominal musculature, and overusing their neck muscles. Their diaphragm then gets "tight," and sometimes cramps or causes mid back pain. They will commonly have short breaths, dizziness, fatigue, frequent yawning, low energy, side stitches, and stiff neck/shoulders (especially a tight upper trap). They might even have numbness/tingling along their arms. Poor circulation and acid reflux are also common symptoms of chest breathers because of the overly tight diaphragm.

(photo from chronicbodypain.net)

The solution to overdoing it on top is to start doing on the bottom, right?  Well, kind of.

I'm sure you've seen people who are really good at belly breathing. You might be one of those people. Your belly makes a nice rotund shape every time you inhale, perhaps from the belt line up to your ribcage. If you're "really good" at belly breathing, your dome belly will even reach to the top of your pubic symphysis, as it should. Go ahead, take a few of those really good belly breaths.

(image from buzzle.com)

Good job!

Now notice what happens to your chest when you take those breaths. Any movement? No? Or it moves up and down (towards/away from your head)? Well, you're still not breathing properly. A proper inhalation should involve the chest wall and abdomen expanding outwardly equally, not one more than the other. By outwardly, I mean 360 degrees. You should have anterior, lateral, and posterior expansion.

Many people focus on actively belly breathing and "not being a chest breather," and as a result, they overdo it, and cause another dysfunction. It's kind of like if you sprained your left ankle, and instead of learning how to use the proper musculatures to even yourself out, you put all your weight your right foot, and end up with a compressed right hip. So what's the solution? Work on 360 breathing. Breathe with your chest, your abdomen, your sides, and your back. Put some Kinesio Tape or Rock Tape, or an elastic band around your abdomen, lower rib cage, and upper chest, and see if you can breathe into the bands, all at once. This is tricky to do all at once if you're not already accustomed to it, so you might want to just work on one aspect at one time, but remember to incorporate them all together, so as to not be dysfunctional in a different way.

(image from urbanwellnessstudio.ca)

Cancer Month

It's one of those __(fill in the blank with appropriate type)__ Cancer Awareness months again. You'll see color schemes, ribbons, walks, and fundraisers. You'll see cancer survivors, their friends, and random people who fall into the "support-but-not-support" trend to look like they're doing something.

I'll tell you what. Cancer sucks. It sucks hard. Any type. Going through the downs, the false ups, the harder downs, and the really shithole downs. The pain that nobody can do anything about. The people nagging you to do things you don't feel like because you just want to crawl into bed and go to sleep all the time. The pills. The overtake of brain space about timing and when to take which pills and with or without what foods or drinks. These, by the way, are just very basic first-hand observations. I'm not going to pretend I know what it's like having Cancer, because I don't have it. *knock on wood* I wouldn't wish it on anyone, based on what I've seen.

Something else that's highly forgotten during these Cancer Awareness trends....are all the caregivers for the Cancer patient. They feel helpless. They try their best to do everything and anything they can to ease the pain, to forget about the suffering, to keep them strong in mind, body, and spirit. They give all of themselves to help their loved one(s). Oftentimes, they give to the point, where they forget to give to themselves, too. They'll forget to take care of themselves because the dishes need to get done, the dog needs a bath, and the sheets need to be washed....twice, because it's the day after chemo. There's no time for a nap, or a workout, or a solitude walk in the park, or outings with friends. They have to stay by their loved ones' side, just in case. They give up their quality (and quantity) of sleep to help their loved one go to the bathroom, or rub their back, or get their pain meds, or call the doctor. They have to make food, but good food, and go grocery shopping for things they don't know how to find but are supposed to be good for fighting Cancer. They spend a lot of money on efforts that are often tried only once or twice. They can give up their sanity. It's hard being a caregiver for a Cancer patient. As much as they're putting in, and TRYING, there's not much they can do, except watch their loved one constantly suffer. Even dealing with the doctors is rough. False reads, miscommunicated information, incorrect information, omission of information, and being treated by them like the details don't matter, so they give the "just do as I say because I'm the doctor and you're the patient" reason. Emergency room runs are tiring (as we all know that trips to the ER are never less than 6 hours, with most of it being painful and irritating waiting). Being so familiar with the hospitals that you could draw a map and point out the shortcuts and times of day where they have free coffee at which parts of the oncology ward.

And then there's the feeling of unfairness and guilt. The "why me?" From the patient and the caregiver. Why the person who had no prior health issues and took good care of themselves and is a good person ended up with 2 types of Stage 4 cancer, where the guy who smokes 4 packs a day, eats fast food, and kicks puppies for fun ends up with nothing more severe than mild hypertension. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It really wasn't. I don't understand why, or how, or why. Why. He's supposed to live until he's 110, with the way his life was going up until he was diagnosed. The doctors had told him he had the health of someone who was 25 years younger in age. Until that day. That day that changed his life, and everyone who cares about him 's life.

If you'd like to help with "finding a cure," go ahead, go on that 10k walk with your friends while you're dressed in your new pink sports shoes, your pink namebrand shirt, and all those pink ribbons pinned everywhere. But be aware that most of any monies raised in those events just goes in some deep, happy pockets, not actual unbiased research.

But if you would like to make an immediate impact on people who are dealing with Cancer in their lives, being themselves as the patient, or the caregiver, it takes a little more heart that bombarding passerbyers with colors. Bake a casserole, buy groceries, mow their lawn, wash their dishes, do their laundry, give their dog a walk and a bath, kick the caregiver out of the house for a few hours to do something they enjoy while you spend some time with the patient. These seem like little, meaningless, day-to-day things that aren't important. But to the caregiver, it means the world. And spending time with the patient will lift their spirits, and give them a little change of pace, which they need, even if it's just a temporary distraction from the pain.

There are different levels of suffering from the effects of Cancer. Watching your favorite football team wearing pink shoes while they play won't do much. I've heard that 1 in 2 or 3 people now will have some type of cancer in their lifetime. Those odds suck. Chances are, you know someone who is or will be going through it. Please don't be scared to just rock up to their house with food and the adamant intention to do some type of housework for them. I promise you, it will mean more to them than any colored ribbon you wear.

5 Days of Iyengar Yoga

My first experience with yoga was not a great one. In fact, it was so unmemorable that I can’t even remember when or where I took the class. All I can remember was that it turned me off of yoga completely, and I generalized it as “glorified stretching.” I was already pretty flexible because of taekwondo (and probably some natural born degree of flexibility to begin with), so going to a basic yoga class was pretty useless to me. This was at least 10 years ago. 

Fast forward to this year. I’ve had the privilege of being able to spend time with someone who lives his life as a dedicated Iyengar Yogi. Before this year, I had no idea there were different types of yoga (other than Bikram, because of its trendy phase a while back), let alone what “Iyengar” yoga was. So when Jory told me he was a yogi, my mind immediately formed pictures of a stretchy hippy (sorry to all my yogi friends, this is what pops in my brain if you’re introduced to me as a yogi). I first met Jory at a Neurokinetic Therapy seminar, one that we were both assistant teaching in Taiwan. I had no idea how he applied yoga into his therapy, only that perhaps he used the yoga as the release/stretch portion of homework for his clients. 

Jory introduced me to a few basic poses during a trip to Taroko Gorge, between NKT seminars, and gave me several specific and intricate directions that made something as simple as standing a mindful difficult task. Apparently I had been standing incorrectly all this time. Well, I knew that part, but just did nothing about it. Jory had me get inside my body, controlling parts that I knew I had the ability to communicate with, but just never had. After a couple more poses, I was intrigued. And sweating. And frustrated. How was my body so inflexible, especially my awesome TKD hips? I knew my right hip was bothering me since my left knee injury, and my back has been bothering me for the last 2 years (also since the knee, but not purely because of the knee). So I worked on them for the next several weeks. Slowly, they improved, just with the poses that Jory gave me and also some additional exercises I did on my own. They still needed more (I didn't expect any miracles). 

My next yogic experience with Jory was 5 straight days and 13 hours of his yoga classes, including a couple workshops. These were not beginner classes, and I certainly did not belong in them. I was extremely fortunate to have been given the opportunity by Jory to not only attend, but actively participate. As I knew my place in the classes, I also made it a point to do my own practice in the morning so I could review a bit of what was learned the day before. I had been doing this for the last few weeks anyway to continue with my own therapy and to get my morning movements in. Those 13 hours were HARD. Some more difficult than others, but none were particularly simple. Each second of his classes required full mental presence, an empty stomach, and the want and dedication to be better. Some of the poses required a lot of willpower for me, and breaking through some tough mental barriers, as there was quite a bit of fear trapped in a few parts of my body from injuries. Jory was clear, concise, specific, and direct with his instructions. He was not afraid to get in your face if you were being lazy, or just needed an extra push to get something to move. And right when I wanted to punch him in the face for the pain and struggle he had just put me through, he would have the class listen to a fun anecdote or let us do a resting pose for a minute. Every single time. And then, he’d move onto the next pose. The classes were very engaging, and there was no room for laziness or fluffing around. If you were there, you were there to learn and get serious work done. 

I journaled every day, wrote down what I could remember from the class, as much detail as possible, as I normally do in these types of circumstances. I think I filled up at least 7 or 8 pages, front and back. There’s undoubtedly much that I forgot, especially near the end, as the last day was excruciatingly difficult (3 hours of a shoulder and neck therapy workshop; with my right shoulder being injured, and my upper body being the lowest source of strength, comparatively). But I got through it, somehow, and was completely wiped for the rest of the day. Other students in that class were boasting post-class beers, desserts, and massages as a way to reward themselves for getting through that class.

I can’t say I enjoyed Jory's classes. I don’t enjoy when I am put in a place of incapability, frustration, and sometimes pain. But they were good. Really good. The classes were difficult, they were inspiring, they were encouraging, they were informative, they were nourishing, they were eye-opening, and they were challenging for both mind and body. Jory was specific, caring, strict, focused, respectful, professional, engaging, strong in his instructions, precise, and deeply knowledgable. Jory’s classes were fantastic. I am so grateful to have been able to experience his teachings, and inspired that there is more to yoga than simply “glorified stretching.”