Etcetera

Ahhh, That Hammock Has My Name On It

Posted on May 16, 2012 by Robyn Parets

(Disclaimer: the names of the yoga teachers have been changed and the yoga studio remains anonymous to protect the parties from, well, not sure what.  Although this is a true story, it is in no way meant to disrespect AntiGravity yoga. There are many styles of yoga and what’s good for one, isn’t always good for all. This is written in tongue in cheek fashion so read with an open mind and a sense of humor. If not, get yourself to a hammock immediately!)

Noah may have been dancing all week but the only thing dancing in my head last Friday was a vision of me plopped down on a nice comfy hammock. Yup, after a long, hard week doing nothing (see “Pass the Epsom Salt Please), I could hardly wait to get myself to an AntiGravity restorative yoga class.

Here’s how the AntiGravity website describes it: “AntiGravity Yoga: Restorative is the gentle, healing side of AntiGravity Yoga.  This powerful method focuses the mind…as it floats the body through a series of gentle gyro kinetic motions, deeply opening the entire spine, hips, and connective tissues of the body… This therapeutic method offers accessibility to students with physical limitations, but is loved by all as a portal into deeper spinal flexibility, and mind/body connection.” Ok, I admit it: I didn’t read this until AFTER I took the class, but I do know that restorative yoga is the relaxing form of yoga, the yoga of “non-doing.” I mean, although I had never done AntiGravity before, it was restorative so how hard could it be?

This is what I had in mind

I walked the five blocks to the yoga studio and eagerly showed up for the class. I asked the woman at the front desk, “This is relaxing, right? It’s fine for someone who hasn’t done this before, right?” While I asked these questions, I thought of my husband Joel on our last vacation. He immediately staked out the hammock and there he stayed, for hours on end. Now, this is what I was looking forward to! The front desk yogini smiled, pointed in the direction of the studio door, and said, “You’ll love it.” Ok, that was the only confirmation I needed. I walked into the studio and stared at these parachute-esque bright orange hammocks hanging on large hooks from the ceiling. I was the first one there (talk about eager to relax!) and was told by the assistant teacher to select a hammock. So I did. Right near the window. Then, she came over to me (let’s call her Jane) and said, “Have you done this before?” I said no and then she asked me to move right in front of the teacher as this way the teacher could more effectively help me. So I did. As Jane was adjusting my hammock and releasing it from the large ominous-looking metal hook, she looked at my engagement and wedding rings and asked me to remove them. “Remove them?  Why?” I asked. “They will snag the hammock so you’ll have to take them off and put them on the floor in the corner,” she said matter-of-factly.

It took everything I had not to blurt out, “Are you kidding me? You might as well be asking me to stack a wad of hundred dollar bills  in the corner. Do you really think I can close my eyes and practice yoga while thinking about my wad of hundreds laying on a floor in the middle of New York City!” But I didn’t say this. Instead I politely said, “I would rather prefer to keep my rings on. I’m not comfortable taking them off. I can turn them around, plus they don’t have any prongs that will snag the hammock.” She looked at me arrogantly and bluntly said, “Well then, you will need to go ask the person at the front desk for a Band Aide to put over your rings.”

At first I could not believe she was serious. But she was. In disbelief, I walked out and got a bandage and literally bandaged up my rings. My serene evening was off to a great start. Completely agitated and stressed out, I walked back into my so-called relaxing yoga class. By this time, the hammocks had started to fill up and class was about to begin. The teacher, let’s call her Donna, was smack in front of me and I had a feeling she didn’t like me very much (I’m thinking Jane told her I was difficult while I was out bandaging up my rings). She asked if I was a beginner. I told her I practice yoga regularly but have never done hammock yoga before. “What a great way to start. This class will be wonderful for you,” said Donna, enthusiastically. Ok, that’s two confirmations. Let’s go. The ring thing is now in the past.

The one by the window was calling my name

First up: we wrap ourselves up into little alien pods and stay there for a while. I don’t know, maybe it was only a couple of minutes but it felt like forever. It was pretty claustrophobic in here and certainly not relaxing. As we emerged from these pods, Donna explained how to go upside-down but I think I was the only one who needed explanation as everyone was already hanging out there. I clumsily made it into this inverted position by looking at the position of my next-door alien’s feet, but apparently I was doing something wrong as Donna asked me to come up from upside-down. So I did. And there I sat right side up, swinging on my hammock while everyone else was still upside-down. I thought Donna or Jane would come over to me and explain how to get back into that crazy-looking position. I mean, it didn’t look relaxing but it sure looked like fun. But I just sat and sat some more, wondering why they were not helping me out (I mean I was two feet in front of Donna. I did give up my prime window seat for a little bit of help, or so I was told.). Frustrated, I jumped out of the hammock, left the room and went to the ladies’ room just to kill some time. I re-entered the land of so-called relaxation just in the nick of time for the next pose. Donna came over to me, a little too late, to ask if I was ok and I honestly responded that I left out of boredom and because I had no clue what I was supposed to be doing next. Donna apologized for not explaining that apparently my hammock was positioned wrong. She said she thought I might prefer to come out of the pose. Hmmm, not sure where she got that idea but, whatever.

I considered bolting but I knew I should stick it out. We did a few other forward folding and back-bending positions in the hammock which I would call awkward instead of calming. All I could think about now was, “Do we at least get a savasana (final relaxation pose)?” This class was stressing me out, big time. Finally, it was time for savasana. In the hammock. Except that we were huddled in fetal positions while Donna talked about visualizing being born and how it felt to be alive on your first day on earth. Now, I’m sorry but do any of YOU remember your first day on earth? And is this what you would want to be thinking about while trying to relax? All I wanted was a little time to think about nothing and de-clutter my mind. But no such luck.

Finally it was over. Hallelujah! I practically jumped out of my hammock, collected my stuff and high-tailed it outta there. Back to my apartment to de-compress. I laughed to myself the whole walk home. It may not have offered the relaxation I was looking for but it sure proved to be comic relief.

Categories: Etcetera, humor, On the Road, Yoga | Tags: , , , | 11 Comments

Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood?

Posted on April 27, 2012 by Robyn Parets

I thought last week was strange. Until this week hit me square in the face.

I’ve moved many times: to new states, new cities, new towns. It’s been said that moving is one of the most stressful things you can do in life. In fact, it’s right up there with getting divorced, having a baby or any other major life change. Nonetheless, for years I was a chronic “mover”. I think I actually thrived on the excitement and stress of changing my scenery every year or two. Maybe that’s why this upcoming move feels so very different on every level. I’ve been in Sharon, in this same house, for nine years now.  Ironically, the only other time I’ve lived anywhere longer than this was ALSO in Sharon, Ma. — the house I grew up in, where I lived for 11 years.

For the first time in memory, I actually feel truly connected to my community on many levels, especially my fellow yogis at Breathe Joy Yoga and the people in my neighborhood. In fact, I have been going about my business this week humming the tune  “People in Your Neighborhood.” Anybody else out there remember this song from Sesame Street circa late 70’s? I don’t dare mention this stuck-in-my-head song to my teenage kids lest they think I’m crazy. But it’s true. Can’t get it out of my head.

This week has been a series of verbal and silent goodbyes (till we meet again) to all the guys behind the deli counter at The Main Course market, my yoga students and teachers, Mark at French Memories (who gave me a cup o joe on the house and I put the cash right back in his tip jar), Rosa and Susan at Citizen’s Bank, my hairdresser Sara at Visions, and even Kaitlyn and staff at physical therapy.  Oh, and I can’t forget Bob the Builder. I’ve seen Bob every day for about five weeks during my home remodel project, which won’t be done until well after I am gone. And all week I’ve been humming  “People In Your Neighborhood.” You see, I have realized over the past couple of weeks just how much these people mean to me. In some cases, I don’t even know their names. Nonetheless, they help me get through my days and weeks on an ongoing basis. Oftentimes when we think of our connections and community, we consider our family of origin, religious organizations (church, temple etc.) and close friends. This  contributes to a grounding feeling, enhancing first chakra energy (see the post “Life in a Snow Globe”). But all these smaller connections with the barber, the banker, the teacher etc. are equally important. How many of us stop and consider how much the people in our neighborhood do for us? I know I never did until now.

And this got me thinking…… I’ve moved so many times and lived in so many places including California, London, Spain, and of course, Massachusetts. But I’ve never been so sad about leaving people in my neighborhood. But this time is different. In every other case, where I have left community to move to another town, I have done what we all do when we arrive in a new place: start putting down roots and getting to know the new “people in our neighborhood.” We find a new doctor, hairdresser, dry cleaner, yoga teacher/studio, gym and so on……It doesn’t happen overnight but eventually we find community again. Yet, I won’t have enough time in any one place to find all these neighborhood folks to help my life tick. That’s because when I leave Sharon — tomorrow morning — I go to L.A. for one week, then New York City for five weeks and then a new city each week for the next month or so. In July, I land back in Boston when Billy Elliot is playing here and I can’t tell you how much I am looking forward to that.

The whole feeling of being dropped from place to place without a community web is strange and a bit unnerving. As I got my haircut yesterday, I wondered, who will cut my hair next? If I need any dental work, I’ll have to find a random dentist close by to my hotel. Indeed, living with this type of uncertainty for an extended period of time isn’t sitting so well right now.

I haven’t been able to shake this feeling. Although I am so excited for my son Noah and can’t wait to join him tomorrow, I am feeling a bit lost. Tonight I will go see my older son Ethan perform with his comedy troupe, Improv Soup. I’ll be laughing in the audience with family, friends, and familiar faces. I will feel a sense of community and belonging. I will feel a sense of routine. Tomorrow I will be on a plane to another city, leaving my family and community behind. I will have to draw on the strength of my yoga practice to help me find connectedness — not just to myself but to all those around me, familiar or not so familiar.

For yoga newbies, one definition of this ancient practice  is “union.” The Yoga Sutras is a book that is sort of like a non-religious bible or roadmap for how to live a more meaningful life. According to Swami Jnaneshvara Bharati, “Yoga means union of the parts of ourselves, which were never divided in the first place. Yoga literally means to yoke…which means to join. Sutra means thread, and this thread, or multiple threads, weave a tapestry of insight and direct experience.”

I know that staying grounded and rooted will come from within me and I will weave “sutras” or connections to others, creating new experiences wherever I go. Stay tuned as I reflect on nail salons, yoga studios and all sorts of people who cross my path. These are the people in my neighborhoods. The people who you meet each day.

Categories: Etcetera, On the Road, That's Life!, Yoga | Tags: , , , , | 9 Comments

Oops, the Dog Ate My Tap Shoe

Posted on April 22, 2012 by Robyn Parets

This has been a strange week.

I could leave it at that but I figured some explanation might be nice.

I spent the first part of the week (April school vacation for those of you in Massachusetts) running around with Noah, doing last-minute errands. And then the packing began……His room looked like a tornado hit it: piles of clothing were everywhere, along with school books, shoes, and miscellaneous items. It was my way of making order out of disorder. I had to-do lists scattered in different places, among them in my head. Here’s how my train of thinking worked: I would remember something we needed to do and, lest I forget, I would run out to do it. One day I went out to pick up things I might otherwise forget.  I got back to the house and went up to Noah’s room to work on my massive organization project. While up in Noah’s room, Ethan hollered up, “Mom, you might want to see this!” Walking downstairs, I see Ethan holding up a half-eaten tap shoe. Yup, the dog, Phoebe, pushed open the door to Noah’s room while I was out and while Noah was at his grandmother’s. Phoebe took the delicious and expensive leather shoe and went to town.

Granted, Phoebe is a dog and dogs love chewing on leather. But Noah often leaves his dance shoes on his floor with the door open. Phoebe has never taken a tap shoe. Ever…until now. Not the dog’s fault. Not anybody’s fault, really. Just one more thing to add onto the list: buy new tap shoes. And so it was with my week. Little things like that kept coming up. Even slightly bigger things like the sharp corner of the front door slamming into the back of my heel, creating a quarter-inch gash. I sort of shrugged it off — too much to do on this day. But it wouldn’t stop bleeding. I could’ve used a couple of stitches to close up the wound but instead, I bandaged it up and hopped into CVS to buy the best wound closure strips they had and the best bandages $25 could buy. It was makeshift but it worked. Trip to the ER averted.

And so it went…but I kept on packing. We managed to whittle Noah’s life down into one suitcase weighing 46 pounds (could not go over 50), one backpack, and one small carry-on duffel bag. On Friday, Noah left with his dad for Los Angeles, where he would begin his training for Billy Elliot at the Pantages Theater in Hollywood. I spent a lot of Friday walking up and down our upstairs hallway, peeking into Noah’s empty and spotless room.

No clothes strewn all over the floor, no books piled up on the dresser, no backpack dumped out all over the bed. No half-eaten tap shoe on the floor. It was a strange day and everyone in my family felt it.

We settled into the weekend. My husband Joel and I ran errands and I began the process of getting myself ready to join Noah in L.A. next week. Ethan had a gaggle of friends over Saturday night and we sat around a bonfire, making s’mores. Joel and I flipped on the TV and what was on: a 20/20 special report on Sunset Blvd. in Hollywood. A bit strange as Noah is now there. Among the heart-wrenching tales of the homeless and drug addicts living along the Sunset Strip, we also watched tales of students at Hollywood High who move to Hollywood with their entire families because their talented kids dream of making it in showbiz, particularly musical theater. And here we were, roasting marshmallows in the utopia of our beautiful backyard as my son is about to live his dream in dance and theater at the age of 12, almost 13. How fitting that this television program is on now…But I’m not surprised. The universe has its own special way of reminding us how lucky we are and how grateful we should always be of the gifts all around us.

On this rainy Sunday — as I type away — I am reminded, yet again, of how lucky I am, how fortunate my entire family is. This year will not be “normal” for us in any sense of the word. We will spend weeks, even months away from each other. It will be hard. It will be emotional. Noah’s room will be empty for a long time. But it will also be special. It will be incredible. It will be memorable.

It will be life-changing. And the dog will have to find something else to chew on. At least for now.

Categories: Accidental Stage Mom, Etcetera, That's Life! | Tags: , , , | 3 Comments

Choices….By Noah Parets

Posted on April 10, 2012 by Robyn Parets

By Noah Parets, age 12

Choice: the power, right, or liberty to choose an option. Over the course of life, you are presented with many choices. Making the right decision leads to success while other options oftentimes do not. It’s all about choices. As a twelve-year-old, choices don’t come easy; in fact most choices are made for me. Parents, family, teachers, and  the government choose for me and this doesn’t always turn out the way I wish it could. Sometimes this limits what I can do as a kid of my age.

Some of my choices, however, have impacted my life. These include: having a good attitude towards writing and reading, being a good overall student, and becoming a dancer.

Having a good attitude towards writing and reading has brought me so much more ease in school. Every subject in school includes writing and reading, which is effective in all my classes. Also, books outside of school have become more interesting and even fun to read because I respect the books and can learn from them. I can get into the story and be sucked in for hours at a time. This attitude change has allowed me to get involved in books like the Harry Potter series and more. These books have hundreds of pages, yet I am able to finish them in a timely manner while feeling good about myself.  Also, writing has become a breeze. I can now write an essay in an hour or two, confident to pass it in for a grade, and I can even think of intriguing topics for fun, free-wheeling stories. Whether it is a short poem or a full-out novel, I am now able to step up to the plate and put the pencil to the paper. I now don’t back off from the assignment because I’m scared or think I am not good enough to fulfill the criteria my teacher is looking for. Now, English class can bring me joy and help me learn to be better at actively reading and effectively writing.

Along with my newfound talent of writing, I’ve decided to be a better student all around as school begins to be tougher. In all of my classes, I really need to make sure I’m being very attentive so I absorb as much information as possible. Taking notes vigorously, I am able to do very well in math. In science however, I just need to suck in every piece of information as my teacher vocally gives me our vocabulary and concepts that need to be understood. But in Spanish, social studies, and E.L.A., I need to finish worksheets and class activities to gather the day’s lesson. So, for each class I have a different strategy for learning. Everyday, as I walk home from school, I plan out my day to make sure I have plenty of time for homework, for it’s vital to making sure I understand the concepts of the past day’s classes. Also, getting it done could be the difference between a good grade and a great grade. Doing homework will only benefit you in the end. Study habits are important too. I choose to study until I know every bit of information that I believe I need. This is because I take pride in my work and I want to prepare myself for high school. At this point, high school is still foreign to me but I still want to be ready.

The last and greatest choice I‘ve made is to be a dancer, a male dancer at that. Yes, many people think it’s a “girl sport”, and maybe people even call me names or whisper behind my back. But dance is just as physically demanding as a sport, so no one that’s on a sports team should be saying that I’m a wimp. Nothing anyone could ever say or do could stop me from dancing. When I dance, there’s no feeling like it. A rush of happiness flows through me and I come to a state that makes me feel unstoppable. I’m well balanced with my dancing, studying many styles including ballet, jazz, modern, and tap. All styles help me strengthen my technique in the other styles. Ballet focuses me with French jargon, while jazz and modern loosen me up and help become more flexible, and tap keeps my rhythm in tune. Dance means so much to me that I decided to quit gymnastics for it which at the time was very important to me because I believed it was my talent,. But then I realized that it just wasn’t right. I needed to dance. I hope for dance to carry me through life because it’s my “sport” and my passion.

 Choices, options, can be really tough like “Should I go to medical school?” or easy like “Should I eat the lollipop?” But, either way, they are one of the many things that keep the world spinning around. The average person makes hundreds if not thousands of choices per day, which proves how our world wouldn’t work without them. Thanks to the opportunity choices have given me, I’ve been able to make a few really great decisions including having a better attitude towards reading and writing, becoming an all around better student, and becoming a dancer.

Categories: Etcetera, Noah's posts, That's Life!, Yoga | Tags: | 7 Comments

Welcome!!!!

Posted on April 10, 2012 by Robyn Parets

“The only reason for being a professional writer is that you can’t help it” — Leo Rosten

Hello and Welcome to Away From OM!

I guess you can say I’ve come full circle or returned to my roots. After spending many years as a journalist, editor and writer, I took what I would call a “hiatus” from deadlines and the stress of working ridiculous hours to devote my life to teaching yoga. Now, however, I am on “hiatus” from teaching yoga to devote myself to writing. Huh?

This time, however, it feels different. This time I am writing for the sheer love of it. Writing about my travels. Writing about my adventures with my son Noah on the road and the difficulties of being away from my other two sons and husband at home. Writing about stuff that matters to me: living yoga on and off the mat, being a responsible and loving parent and anything else that floats my boat.

Yoga is about reaching liberation or freedom from the ego and mind stuff that keeps you locked in a sort of internal prison. So I guess you can say I have merged my love of yoga and writing. For the first time ever, I feel free to write about what I want, when I want. I am writing for myself. When I first started this blog, I thought, “What if nobody reads it? What is nobody is interested?” And, then my monkey mind quickly retorted, “Who cares!” Now that’s what I call liberation!

If you do wish to join the dialog, you can find my posts under the “Posts” tab. Please comment on my musings, some of which will likely resonate with you, and share your thoughts. Let’s create a dialog in the name of love, freedom, adventure and anything else that matters.

Thank you all so much for reading!

Much love and peace.

Categories: Etcetera, That's Life!, Writing, Yoga | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

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