We're Molting

I've been regularly posting photos of The SweatBox remodel on Facebook to keep people in the know about where we are in the process. Today one of our regular students Carlo commented on a photo I posted with "You're molting." 

This process of recreating one of the most important spaces in my world has been fun, creative, and exciting. It's also been GRUELING. I feel like there's a pinball machine living in my head and there is unlimited play. I find closure on one idea (floor color will be Merlot), another one comes, bounces around for a while, and is then replaced and replaced and replaced. It shouldn't surprise me. I've done more remodels that most normal people-- big ones, small ones, business ones, home ones. They're all taxing, but in the end, incredibly rewarding.
The comment Carlo made, "You're molting" gave me a new lens in which to see this renovation process. To "MOLT", according to Wikipedia:

"In biology, molting , also known as sloughing, shedding, or in many invertebrates, ecdysis, is the manner in which an animal routinely casts off a part of its body (often, but not always, an outer layer or covering), either at specific times of the year, or at specific points in its life cycle.



Yes! We are shedding our old skin, even different body parts and making room for the new-- new energy, new floors, new paint. But what also speaks to me in this Wikipedia definition is the idea of a life cycle. The SweatBox is 14 years old. Full on puberty. This makes sense. We're finding our voice, forging our path, creating our independence. 

As we do when we move from middle school to high school, we are casting off the stagnancy of our awkward junior high years and deciding who we want to be now.  I remember the time in my own life. No more quilted Japanese jackets courtesy of my grandfather's travels to Asia. No more Danish sweaters (from my mom's childhood trunk). I would choose my own 1980s style- berets and double belts, lots of ear piercings. Thank God I've moved on from that style!

It's exciting, this molting. I imagine how much energy goes into a Hermit crab sloughing it's shell and then having to rebuild a new exoskeleton. That's what's happening now at The SweatBox. We've molted- shed the old, and are steadily creating our new home.

Koosh Ball

The other day I hosted a sexuality education class for 10-year-olds and their moms in my living room. A sexuality educator came equipped with a pink knit uterus, flash cards, a maxi pad and tampon demo kit, and group movement exercises.

We learned about pubic hair, breast buds, body odor, crushes, bullying, and the false images created by Photoshop in the media. Girls got to ask questions about puberty and they got to secretly ask questions via index cards that they were too shy to disclose out loud.

At the end of the two hours, the teacher took out a Koosh ball and threw it into the crowd of girls. "When I throw you this ball, I want you to say something about yourself that you like." Of course a few girls whined, "What if I can't think of anything?" "Just throw it back to me" she kindly invited.

As the content of the session grew more detailed and graphic, I noticed around the room that many of these "too cool for school 10-year-olds" who normally wouldn't be caught dead sitting next to their moms, were literally crawling their long legs and torsos into their mother's laps. By the time the Koosh ball was thrown, many of the girls were wrapped in their mother's arms.

When Lucia got the ball, she leaned heavily into my chest and very, very quietly said, "I like my long arms and my long legs." When I was ten,  a long-legged, long-armed bean pole like Lucia, I could only compare myself to my fraternal twin sister who was much shorter, and I thought, much cuter. So I was proud and happy that Lucia owned her length and declared it as a point of pride. The ball went around the room. "My hair" won as most frequently proclaimed. But there were others too-- "my brown eyes", "my eye brows", "my nose."  There was joy, contentment among the girls who declared something they liked about themselves. After a pretty intense two hours learning about hard stuff, a lightness filled the room. What a great way to end the evening.

The grown ups in the room were not invited to share what they liked about themselves, but if they had been, I think there would have been some struggle, perhaps even more than the young girls had shown. This morning I woke up thinking about what I would have said if I got the Koosh ball.  Would I be able to declare out loud in front of twenty people that I like my ankles? My neck? Maybe, but I would also feel self-conscious about it. I would likely feel awkward and embarrassed.

Maybe if we'd all practiced acknowledging what we liked about ourselves during puberty, when our bodies were really changing we were emotionally unmoored, it would be easier as adults. But most of us didn't get that practice, so it feels like pulling teeth to publicly proclaim our strengths, our positive characteristics.

How I would love to invoke the Koosh ball while teaching yoga. So often when I teach, especially newbies, I notice that people do everything they can to not focus on themselves; they employ every possible tool to distract themselves from being with themselves. I do it too, often when I practice.  But I want to invite the idea into the room (and I will people, just wait) to periodically throw yourself a Koosh ball. Sometimes you'll have to throw it back; it will simply be too hard to conjure a compliment to yourself. But keep trying. Find something; remind yourself what you like about yourself. Yoga practice, just like a two-hour puberty class, can be hard. Give yourself some love. Throw yourself some love.  It might lighten your practice a little bit.