IndiGlow - The Ordinary Illuminated

IndiGlow - The Ordinary Illuminated

Be Kind, Guest Editor Michelle Ladwig

Monday, June 02, 2014
“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”
                                               - Plato

I work in an environment where I see the same people at the same time every day.  It is the life of a teacher.  For 16 weeks at a time we, college professors and students alike, move like clockwork, quite consistent in our where and when.  All together we consist of about 2,000 worker bees with many queen bees holding down one ever-buzzing hive.  


Because of this time-aligned movement, I see people through seasons, through colds and sniffles, through accomplishments, mild injuries, really anything the average human can get themself into.  At the beginning of the year I ran into a young man as I was exchanging classrooms with a colleague. This young man is tall as a wildflower, thin as a rail, and has a soft and effeminate voice. 


During this 2 minute classroom exchange with limited dialogue, I watched and listened as my colleague (with more clout that I have) refer to this young man as a female.    


My heart was broken.  My eyes went from my colleague to the kid and back again.  I tried to gently interject and correct.  His expression was one of dejection and sad acceptance, like a puppy accepting his corner of the den.  Everything about my colleague was bluster and position.          


I was angry.  I couldn't call out my colleague, and I really just wanted to hug that poor kid who didn't have to seem the voice to correct him.  I guess what really bugged me is that my colleague had so much ego he couldn't get out of his own way to recognize the delicacies of another human being.        


But really, are we any more superior?  Don’t we make judgments daily?  Think about our average grocery store. There’s the fat lady with a buggy filled with poor choices; the teenager with tattoos and gauges; the dad using his food-stamps, holding up the line.  


I do.  You know you do.

      

But, the more I think about it, my colleague didn't pass judgment.  That isn't the case.  He didn't think, I’m guessing, oh, what a homely girl or some such.  He made an assumption and that isn't the same as judgment. Right?  Please someone explain this to me.

     

He assumed that kid was one thing because he didn't look a certain way.  He didn't ask questions. He didn't take the time to know each singular person in the classroom.  He just barreled through them, focusing on his agenda.       


Speaking of the dad in the grocery line, this happened to me.  Dad was trying to pay for his groceries with his food stamps.  It was taking a while.  I leaned in and chatted with his toddler girl about colors and the shapes of balloons.  The clerk apologized for the wait.  The dad apologized for the wait, but really I felt he was apologizing for being poor.  I don’t care if you’re poor.  I don’t care if you are overweight and like Little Debbie’s.      


I certainly don’t care if you want to dress outside the social construct of your gender.   Our kid has now begun cross-dressing.   And it isn't dressing for attention.  He isn't dressing in drag.  I had a kid in my high school class who dressed in drag: all kinds of wrong gathered from Grandma’s and Goodwill.    

This kid is dressed like a stylish teenage girl.

      

If I didn't know him before, I would sincerely think she is the tallest girl I have ever seen. And the prettiest. Quite pretty.  Lovely mid-west, corn silk blonde hair, blue eyes, and thin lips like a pulled bow.

I don’t know what’s in her head.  I am not in a position to ask.  My only option is to open doors when we cross paths, which happens twice a week at 10:20, and smile.  I hope my smile is thing that keeps her alive and happy and healthy and positive.  I hope a smile walks her to her future.

I love that kid with no name.  She is everyone I ever walked past.

The Truth is in the Choice, Guest Editor Michelle Ladwig

Thursday, May 01, 2014

 

Sometimes I think it’s funny that both of my professions, both of my creative loves, involve precision, creativity, attempts and failures, and no-holds-barred shoot outs with my nemesis.  The difference is here:  In academia, the nemesis is the editor.  In yoga, the nemesis is the self.


When I go to school, I dress appropriately:  slacks or skirt, blouse (no cleavage), suitably heeled shoes (no toe cleavage), proper under garments; i.e. things are covered.  I carry a bag filled with books, red-inked papers, pencils, pens, and “Good Job Stickers.”  When I head out to the studio, I carry a bag filled with a mat, a towel, water, one MP3 player, hairbands, pose-driven choreography in my head, and ambition.  When I slack off the outer garments of propriety, I am in barely anything:  a sports bra and hot shorts.


I teach and practice in the tradition of hot yoga.  We keep the room at a lovely 105 degrees.  (If you were from the south like I am, you’d agree 105 degrees ain’t nothing).  The tradition beyond the temperature is in the wall-to-wall sheet of truth staring me down.  We like mirrors!


Truth: once in a while I look in the mirror and think I should cover up. I am too old to bare my belly; too old to wear hot pants. Too old.  And here, right here, is where I not only question my wardrobe, I question where did that come from!


Mother Nature and I have been at it for about a year now.  If you are unsure, let me tell you, shit happens and it happens at glacial speed.   My mother said that one day my skinny body and my metabolism would go to pot.  Well, I haven’t gone to pot.  I’m still doing worlds better than my high school peers, but man, things are a-changing.


Now, all kinds of chicks and dudes come to hot yoga.  All bodies, all ages.  Tall boys, full-figured gals, double sport bra ta-tas, shaved legs, unshaved legs, fitness fanatics and chill lotus flowers.  Here’s the thing:  I don’t care how you look or if you shave your legs.  That’s your body and it’s a beautiful thing.    I have never once noticed if you gained weight.  I do notice when your tricep heads start defining, or your delts get sculpted, or when you finally master THAT pose.


But, when I look at my body in the big ole’ horizon of mirror, I notice things.  And, here, I am tempted to create the laundry list of ughs and wtfs, but that would be counter-productive.
I don’t like it, but what am I going to do?  Diet?  I hate grapefruit.  Run til I drop?  Hurts my everything.  No, I am going to yoga.


I am going to look in the mirror and study the body I have earned.  Positive Laundry List: I like the shape of my lips and the color of my eyes, and my curly red, Moppet hair.  I have strong core muscles, arms and back muscles that allow me into hand stands and arm balance work.  I have two healthy breasts, a hale libido, toes that point, feet that flex, and a body willing to go where the heart goes.

And my heart wants to swing from aerial hoops and silks, fly in AcroYoga with my friends and my husband, go for bike rides above water puddles and below apple blossoms, and I want to paddle the Mississippi on a SUP board.  If the nemesis is the self, then the heart is the child with no caution, only wild abandon.  I am choosing to turn that voice off.  I am choosing this body.


"Energy cannot be created or destroyed,

Monday, April 15, 2013

 it can only be changed from one form to another.”      ― Albert Einstein

This weekend during our Yoga Teacher Training program we continued our discussions on the subtle energies of the body and consciousness.  That inner-light of awareness (consciousness; the soul; the purusha) is something we all share...riding around inside of our individual 'organic body suits.'  We know the physical body has a shelf-life...it will expire someday, but the essence of who we are (the True Self) is timeless, changeless, and eternal.  

Part of what makes the practice of yoga so special to me is the opportunity to connect with, acknowledge and honor that sacred light of being within each of us.  When we bow to each other and offer the greeting of "Namaste" we are taking a moment to deeply appreciate that one-ness we all share.  While we're all unique in so many ways, at the very heart of each of us...we are one.


Namaste,

IndigoGrrl


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