An article that caught my attention this week (called “Lessons of Discovery” by Madisyn Taylor) talks about how “none of us are born with an instruction manual and that learning lessons is a lifelong journey”.  With the recent arrival of two new grandchildren in our yoga/Pilates community, it reminds us also that there is no instruction manual for parenting either.  We all seem to be muddling through our lives yet somehow we have impossibly high expections of ourselves.  The article also points out that whatever stage of life we find ourselves in “we feel like we ought to know more about who we are or how to live”.  In fact,

We may even berate ourselves for making the same mistakes, or for just not ‘getting it’, whatever ‘it’ may be. We wonder how our lives would be now, if only we had ‘known better’.

But the article goes on to remind us that “inherent in our being born is that we are here to observe, learn and grow. . . [which means] there will be mistakes and misadventures along the way.”

As we get older we can sometimes feel like we are more set in our ways.  Change, though constant and always around us, is often greeted with difficulty.  A dear friend of my mother’s used to say “People don’t change as they get older, they only get moreso.”  The ruts we’ve created in our lives run deep.  They can seem impossible to surmount.

Recent brain research, however, shows that the neural pathways we create never stop.  For many years it was thought that the brain would stop finding new ways to work as we age.  But it is now known that this is not true.  We are always capable of learning and it is never to late to learn something new.

As the article cited above points out “it is only natural that we may sometimes become overwhelmed, especially when the lessons keep coming”.  I know in my own life I have experienced many “lessons” that I would have preferred not to know if I had a choice.  Life has a way of handing (sometimes hurtling) experiences at us when we least expect or want them.  We are usually clueless about how to deal with these experiences, but circumstances force us to find a way.  So we begin to create our own instruction manual. Some of you may recall the Joni Mitchell song about Woodstock.  There is a line in it that I’ve never forgotten:  “I don’t know who I am, but life is for learning.”

So next time you think that you are too old to try yoga or Pilates it might help to remember one more quote from Madisyn Taylor:  “It may be overwhelming not knowing the way, but there is no proper [right] way, it is what you do along the way that matters.”  In other words, it is the journey that counts, not the destination.  A recurring concept in this blog.  Sure there are descriptions of various moves in both disciplines (yoga and Pilates), but these “instructions” also describe the benefits of each move.  You can find your own way to derive those benefits.  A way that works for your body as it is right now.  It might not look the same as someone else’s way, but it will be part of your own personal “instruction manual”.  Just give it a try and see if you can create some new neural pathways that work for you.  Learning something like yoga or Pilates may seem like a minor detail compared to some of the lessons life is currently throwing your way, but learning to deal with the small stuff can give you the confidence you need to believe that you can handle the big stuff, too.

Recently a friend of mine told me an amazing story.  A few years ago she was diagnosed with cancer.  Her treatment called for daily trips to Rapid City, an hour’s drive from her home each way.  My friend and her husband owned a campground at the time and this occurred during the peak of the summer season.  Compounding the stress, my friend’s mother-in-law also became ill and was unable to stay by herself, so she moved in with my friend and her husband for their assistance.  Between the stress of having cancer, daily drives for treatment, tending to the campground business and caring for her mother‑in‑law, my friend quickly became overwhelmed.  She found herself in a position that most of us find untenable:  she needed to ask for help.  Not knowing where to turn she reached out to her mother‑in‑law’s church.  The church ladies went into immediate action.  They organized daily rides for my friend to her treatments and arranged for someone to stay with my friend’s mother‑in‑law so that her husband could be free to tend to the campground business.  Although a certain amount of stress remained inevitable, the load was greatly reduced by all the shoulders who were willing to contribute to its support.

All of these people were out there holding their skills ready, waiting for someone to put them to use.  When any of us hears of someone else’s crisis our first question is usually, “What can I do to help?”  We are so willing to give when someone else needs help. Yet we are often so afraid to display our own vulnerability that we don’t give anyone a chance to put their talents into action and help us.  We’re all really good at giving, but we are lousy receivers.  For whatever reason we deem ourselves unworthy of assistance, or, perhaps worse, we think we can do it all ourselves.  But here is something to think about:  being unable to receive denies the giver a chance to shine.  Do you really want to refuse someone else that opportunity?   Being a poor receiver is disrespectful of the giver.  Thinking of it this way it is hard to believe that I could possibly say “no” when offered help.  Yet I am as guilty as anyone when it comes to trying to do everything myself.  Where does this notion come from?  Why do we think we need to be so self-sufficient?  Wasn’t there a time in human history when we recognized our interdependence?  Didn’t humans originally form tribes for the purpose of helping each other survive?  When did we lose this concept?

Although I’ve certainly been through hard times in the past, I’ve especially been reflecting on these notions through this past year  So many people have been so genuinely willing to provide whatever I might need night or day – sometimes before I even know I need it.  And yet still there have been times when I’m tempted to stoically say, “Thanks, but I’m fine”. It has become a practice opportunity to remind myself that refusing means that I am in some way telling the giver that their gift is unworthy.  Looking at it that way, how can I possibly say “no”?  As Brene Brown has said, vulnerability takes courage.  She says, “Truth and courage are not always comfortable, but they are never weaknesses.”

We South Dakotans (although we are hardly unique) fancy ourselves as independent and self-reliant.  We are quick to point fingers disdainfully at anyone who appears to be irresponsible, unwilling (or so it seems) to take care of themselves, expecting others to do it for them.  Yet there comes a time in everyone’s life – everyone – when we need help.  None of us – no matter how well prepared or independent – can manage all of life without help.

Einstein said: “A human being is part of a whole, called by us the ‘Universe,’ a part limited in time and space.”  As part of a whole, we each have a role to play and we all need each other.

This is not something we should denigrate, but rather something to celebrate.  A chance to express solidarity with our fellow human beings, to recognize that we are all minute creatures “hurtling through deep space on this tiny rock called Earth.”

A recent article in Tricycle by John Tarrant, Director of the Pacific Zen Institute, talks about the concept of generosity and how necessary it is for each of us to do things for others.  He says,

“When someone gives you something precious it means that, beyond the usefulness of the gift, you are precious. The gift marks a moment when you are welcomed into the other person’s heart. . . . Generosity keeps faith with our appreciation of each other, it stems from a natural empathy with everything that, like us, has the courage to take a shape in the world.”

And, finally, a quote from Buddhist monk and author, Matthieu Riccard:

 “The notion of interdependence makes us question our basic perception of the world . . . Thus knowledge of interdependence leads to a process of inner transformation.”