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Learning to Stop - December 2000

It's interesting to note that the first word of wisdom on mindfulness is often stop: "Stop, and think. Stop, look and listen. Stop, and breathe. Stop, and smell the roses." Stopping is what allows us to make space. It gives us breathing room to consciously choose our next action or word. We need that transition time, before we can fully attend to what's happening now.

The importance of this concept was recently brought back to my attention in a very personal way by one of my colleagues, Barb Moody. "It's not what we can't do," she quipped, at the end of a workshop, "It's what we can't STOP doing, that creates the problem." Hm. That gave me cause to … pause… and reflect.

Most of us don't like to stop. We want to push the accelerator down and go. We've got things to do, people to see. We're too busy to stop. In fact, stopping gets in the way. Most of the time we try to set ourselves up to move from point A to point B with as few stops as possible. Having to stop, is seen as an impediment to our progress, it's a drag to the system. Besides, revving up is so much more fun than putting on the brakes.

Of course without stop signs, and traffic lights, the streets would be a collision course, awaiting the next victim of crash and burn.

This fall I've felt like my accelerator has been stuck, and impact is imminent. Everyday as I counseled people to slow down and take care of themselves, I was aware that my own schedule (the one I created), put more demands on my system than I was capable of handling. Even as I tried to hold myself to the multitude of commitments I had made, I felt the black hole of exhaustion sucking me down.

Exhaustion is not an unfamiliar state to me. In my pre-yoga life, I spent much of my time either tired and sick, or sick and tired. As I became more respectful of and responsible for myself, through yoga, I realized that in order to become healthy there were several things I had to stop doing.

I had to stop believing that someone else could fix me. I had to stop feeding my body and mind junk (junkfood & junkthoughts). I had to stop pretending I would feel better tomorrow, even if I didn't do anything different today. In essence, I had to stop living in ignorance.

About 10 years ago, I had a revelation while sobbing about the tremendous strain I was under, to my husband, Peter. He pointedly observed, "Robin, for every five rocks everyone else carries in their pack, you've got ten."

"I know, " I cried, "If only you would take those extra rocks, my load wouldn't be so heavy."

"I don't want your darn rocks," he retorted, "No one wants them. They're just rocks. Throw them down already and lighten up." I heard his words and the love behind them, and I got it. In that moment, I could see how my tendency to push beyond my limits created the pool of suffering that I lay weeping in.

Unfortunately, my hard-won lessons dissolved in the short-term memory banks of a busy life. Over the past two years, while building and opening the new studio, I have worked hard to develop new skills as a business woman as well as a teacher. Then, last winter, my family suffered the tragedy of my father-in-law's terminal illness and subsequent death, which put further strain on my system. In addition, my daughters have formally hit the "teenage years", need I say more?

By the time I realized that I was maxed-out, my pack was so full of rocks again, that my old friend exhaustion paid a visit, and I spent two weeks sniffling and coughing and feeling the familiar fog of the flu.

Right about then, I hooked up with Barb, and her wise words nudged me to do what I had been needing to do for some time: I cancelled workshops, called on subs for my classes. I surrendered to naps and asked my family and friends for extra support. Most importantly, I carved out a whole month of respite from teaching classes, so I could rejuvenate myself, deepen my own practice and work with my teacher privately. I'm just at the beginning of this "time off", but already I'm relaxing, knowing I can stop soon.

In the intermediate class last November, we were discussing how hard it is to carve out the time for meditation practice, to simply sit and breathe. One student suggested that the hectic, fast paced world we live in is to blame. Many of us concurred that the cultural prerogative to always do more, challenges our best intentions. Beth Wood, teacher, student & sage disagreed, "Oh no," she counseled us, "This problem's as old as The Bible itself." She then quoted Jeremiah 2:25:

"Stop wearing out your shoes." Eloquent wisdom, even a barefoot yogi could understand.

Thank you Beth. Thank you Barb. Thank you Peter. And thanks to everyone who's supported me in putting on the brakes, before I crashed and burned.

My wish for all of you in the coming year is that you gift yourself and your loved ones ample opportunities to do less, to do it slower and … to stop … in between.

May your shoes last a long, long while...

The Yoga Barn, Inc.
Robin Rothenberg, Certified Yoga Instructor
660 NW Gilman Blvd., Suite C6, Issaquah, WA  98027
Studios located in both Issaquah and Fall City
Phone: 425.427.0038  -  Fax: 425.427.0613
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