Mindfulness on skis

I went skiing over the holidays for the second time in my adult life!

As you might imagine, I’m pretty comfortable when it comes to trying new sports, and I’ve been working for years on improving my balance through my yoga practice.

But one wrong turn on the slopes sent me and hubby Vince down an intermediate hill that I had absolutely no business being on. This, coupled with the fact that it was really icy that day (read even more slippery than usual), meant that I was not in a comfortable or easeful position to say the least. In fact, I was literally gripped with fear. I could see to the bottom of the hill from where I was standing. Knew in my mind that it wasn’t very far away. But in my terror, miles and miles of descending ice seem to stretch out between me and the flat safety below.

What the heck was I going to do?

Luckily my practice spilled off of my mat and into my life.

In that moment, it popped into my head that I might be adding to the difficulty by tensing up in some way. So there I was, mid-mountain, checking in with my body and sure enough, my teeth were clenched, jaw locked, hands death gripped on the ski poles, shoulders bunched up around my ears.

Does this sound familiar to you? We all have our ways of physically gripping our bodies when we’re stressed. While mine is usually mostly in my jaw or belly, in this moment I was gripping EVERYWHERE! Unconsciously. It always amazes me that I can have such a physical reaction to something while my conscious mind has no idea it’s happening. It was like I had blinders on. I was no longer seeing the actual path in front of me and beneath my skis. I was so gripped by fear and the desire to get to the bottom that I wasn’t even in my body or on my skis any longer.

So what happened?

There in the middle of the mountain,
all that non-striving spilled off of my mat
and was there to support me.
I leaned into the fear,
Became aware of how I was adding to it
And invited myself to soften.

As if a little voice inside of me suggested:
Try unclenching your jaw.
Now loosen the grip of your hands.
Shoulders soft.
Breathe into your belly.

I smiled. I could hear myself in class asking my students to hold a challenging pose while noticing if there were parts of them efforting where they didn’t need to. That smile helped me to soften all over too. 

It didn’t change the fact that I was in a really tough situation. But I was no longer making it worse, or missing the tidbits of beauty that were part of the experience. It was if I had widened the lens to include more than just the things that were going wrong.

I could see the icy patches approaching,
doing my best to navigate them.
And in between enjoy the fleeting moments of control.
The edges of my skis catching,
Easeful turning and shifting,
Snow-covered trees,
Crisp, cool air,
The sound of Vince skiing behind me,
His shadow moving with me on the mountain.

The ancient teachings speak of the non-striving aspect to our formal yoga and meditation practices. "Practice and non-attachment", says Patanjali’s sutra 1.12 We are not trying to get anywhere or achieve a specific benefit. Isn't it ironic how all that non-striving can give us so much?! 

What’s so interesting is that this “spilling” is very unique for each and every one of us and so we must approach our practice with an open mind, seeing it as more of an experiment than a prescription. The teachings and practices are something to be engaged in for ourselves, not just read about in theory. As Buddhist scholar Andrew Olendzki translates the Pali term ehipassiko found in Long Discourses 18, they are a “come and see sort of teaching". Andrew goes on to explain that the teachings are "Not to be taken on faith, tradition, reason, convention, or out of devotion, the teachings are to be investigated for oneself." That is: practice, without focusing on the outcome, and see for yourself how it may spill into your life.