Change

“There's a trick to the Graceful Exit.
It begins with the vision to recognize when a job, a life stage,
a relationship is over - and to let go.
It means leaving what's over without denying its value.”
- Ellen Goodman

 (American journalist)

“You’ve gotta know when it’s time to turn the page.”

Tori Amos

(Music artist)

Change and I have never had an easy relationship. I am a regimented person, any variance from my routine can throw me off kilter, and I do not make spontaneous decisions well.  When I see a big change coming, I’ve been known to run the other way. But change usually finds me, sometimes sweet-talking me out of hiding, sometimes dragging me out, reluctantly!  Intellectually, I know that change can be good, that change is inevitable, that progress does not exist without the transformational power of change, but letting go can be emotionally draining, no matter how spiritually uplifting or life changing it ends up being. And I also know that change can have an ugly side, blindsiding us with hard life circumstances. Maybe that’s the side of change that keeps us humble, letting us know that ultimately we are not in control of the Universe. Change can be our best friend too; when we feel comfortable with a new transition; when we intuitively make the right decision; when it’s time to turn the page. I don’t know about you, but I always feel physically lighter when that happens. Recently, saying good-bye to a place I had been teaching at for twenty-five years was not only a big change, but an emotional one too.

Body Grace was born and raised at Vienna Presbyterian Church, and for that opportunity I will always be grateful. But just like the letting go that happens between a parent and a child, it was time to make a “graceful exit,” moving the final class out of the church, and into the studio. In 1990, I appeared before the church’s Board of Trustees to get approval to start a weekly fitness class. There were some board members and congregants who disapproved. They felt that a fitness class had no business existing in a place of worship. My presentation, based on passages from 1 Corinthians, was that our bodies are temples, that we are connected physically, mentally and spiritually, and what affects one, can affect them all. I’m sure that sounded a little “New Age-y” in 1990, but how exciting it is twenty-five years later to see the scientific evidence backing this up! Permission for a trial session was granted, and that one class eventually led to the birth of Body Grace. I will forever love and appreciate all the people who supported me throughout the years, and who spoke up for me when I needed it the most.

Change can be hard to embrace, particularly when it uproots us with unexpected life experiences: When it messes with our routines; with our health; with our faith; with our emotions.  But change can also help us undergo positive transformations, like a spiritual makeover, enlightening us with a new perspective. Change can help intensify our connection physically, mentally and spiritually, and Body Grace is a manifestation of that belief; a belief that I have not strayed from in twenty-five years. To me Body Grace is a sacred place, within the larger community, where all are welcome to take care of their body, mind and spirit; a place to help deepen our relationships with others, and with our self. 

Dear Spring

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“In the spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside

 of four and twenty hours.”   Mark Twain (1835 – 1910)

Dear Spring,

What a prophetic description of March 2015 written by Mark Twain over a century ago. Spring, you sure can be fickle. Stop teasing us!  We humbly acknowledge that you are in control. We understand that you want to make a dramatic entrance dressed in your fine couture, and honestly, with all your beauty, who can blame you? But you’ve already got us in the palm of your hand, sitting at the edge of our seats; we are a captivated audience.  Spring, we’ve been patient, now show us some mercy, and reward our patience with a steady performance of warmer, brighter days. We are so ready for the cold, gray curtain of winter to lift, and your colorful, spectacular show to begin. Spring, you have a rapt audience, now give us a reason for a standing ovation.

Respectfully,

Jan Crerie

Welcome to my new Grandson

Nash Robert Beech

Jan. 30 at 4:08 am

6 lb. 14 oz.

Another fresh new year is here...

Another year to live!

To banish worry, doubt, and fear,

To love and laugh and give!

 

This bright new year is given me

To live each day with zest...

To daily grow and try to be

My highest and my best!

 

I have the opportunity

Once more to right some wrongs,

To pray for peace, to plant a tree,

And sing more joyful songs!

 

- William Arthur Ward

(American scholar, author, editor, pastor and teacher)

 

Happy New Year!

 

I read this poem at the end of last Friday morning's yoga practice. I think it puts into words the way I see the new year, as a fresh new start. To me the new year is like getting a brand new notebook at the beginning of the school year, waiting to be filled with whatever the assignments are for that particular subject. Usually by the end of the year my notebooks would inevitably become an eclectic mix of assignments I was required to do, and lots of doodles, not only in the margins but on the covers too.  To this day I still love to doodle finding it relaxing, and meditative, helping me think.  I would also write expressive letters to myself, or others, filled with my observations about the day, hopes, complaints, whatever the feeling du jour happened to be! Of course, these pages would get torn out leaving behind the telltale ragged pieces of paper.

Here it is again, a fine new notebook, entitled January 2015, and I am just cracking it open to begin the process. Ironically this notebook will look similar to my school ones.  There will be

stuff I have to do, all those responsibilities and obligations that come with day-to-day life, but also making time for relaxation and fun.  I will try my best to be present with whatever life has in store for me this year, accepting the fact that the ragged edges are just as important as the smooth.  And my notebook would not be complete without an abundance of feelings yet to be

felt and expressed.  What I do know about this year is this, Body Grace will continue to be a big part of my life, and I am looking forward to experiencing 2015 with all of you!

With warm gratitude,

Jan

A Fond Memory of Vienna's Mayor Jane Seeman

Mayor Seeman passed away on February 24, 2013.

This piece was printed shortly afterward in the Body Grace's March newsletter.

Miss Jane was Nicole’s, my oldest daughter’s, first preschool teacher at the Vienna Community Center. I had just given birth to my second daughter, Allison, in the fall of 1988 and Nicole started attending shortly before then; she was 2-1/2 years old.

Nicole loved wearing dresses. One hectic morning she picked out a red jumper that my mom had made for her, a white blouse, cute frilly white socks and her black patent leather Mary Jane shoes, and off we went to drop her off at preschool. As always Miss Jane was there to welcome everyone at the door so I dropped Nicole off and came home looking forward to putting Allison and me down for a nap, but as I walked by Nicole’s bedroom door I noticed something sitting on her bed. What I found, after further inspection, was her underpants. Yes, I had just sent my fancy dressed daughter to preschool commando style!

Mortified, I frantically grabbed Nicole’s underpants, placed Allison back into her car seat, and drove back to the community center.  I peeked in the window on the preschool door, caught Miss Jane’s eye and waved for her to come out.  Once she stepped out into the hallway, I told her how embarrassed I was to have sent Nicole to school without the proper undergarments, and in a down-to-earth, non-judgmental way this is what she said to me: “You know Mrs. Crerie, Nicole was really distressed at the beginning of class and when I asked her what the problem was, she told me that her Mommy had forgotten to put underpants on her. I told her I would give you a call to bring some to her, and that sometimes Mommies forget things, especially when there is a new baby in the house, but in the meantime, until you could get here, to just keep her legs together.” I smiled – how could you not – nodded, thanked her for calming Nicole down, and her good advice. When I glanced into the room, sure enough, while all the other kids were sitting crossed-legged in their share circle, Nicole was sitting very calmly with her legs straight out, glued shut. I took Nicole to the restroom, put on her underpants, and I apologized to her for my forgetfulness, as well as for any future issues I may have caused, which at the time she probably did not understand.  To this day Nicole has very fond memories of being in Miss Jane’s preschool class for two years. Yes, she does remember being distaught about not having underpants on, however she did forgive me, and I can attribute that to the sweet way in which Miss Jane handled the situation.

Fast forward twenty something years later and as I am unlocking the studio door one afternoon, Mayor Jane drives up to drop off her granddaughter for a teen yoga class. We chatted for a moment and she asked about my daughters, which I was so impressed by. I told her that Nicole is a mom now, and we both agreed that time flies by too quickly but that being a grandparent is wonderful! Jane asked me how my business was doing. She truly cared about the success of the small businesses in the community, and I for one, appreciated that. I will miss Jane Seeman. She loved Vienna, and it showed. When I think of her, I will not only think of Mayor Jane Seeman, a woman who believed in a strong community, but I will also fondly remember Miss Jane, a caring, kind and compassionate preschool teacher, who helped a little girl and a young mother through an awkward situation. 

My Wisdom Teeth's Wisdom

“Little by little we human beings are confronted with situations that give us more and more clues that we aren’t perfect.” – Mister Rogers

Well, this is embarrassing; I forgot to breathe in a highly stressful situation. How many times in my yoga classes have I said, “Slow, deep breathing helps regulate the heartbeat, decrease the blood pressure, and calm the nervous system”?  It is a safe bet to say at least weekly.

I decided to have all four of my wisdom teeth extracted over the holiday break after having some issues with them this past year. General anesthesia would be a new experience for me, causing me a lot of anxiety.  Knowing this, I focused on taking good care of myself before the appointment. I spent time practicing calming breathing techniques, sitting more in meditation, and making sure my diet was as clean and healthy as possible, not always easy around the holidays! But even with all my self-care, on the morning of the appointment I felt extremely nervous and scared. Fear is a necessary emotion. On the plus side it allows us to protect ourselves when we feel threatened, but it can also paralyze us, keep us stagnant, make us mute, and in my case, deaf.

It would have been helpful, sitting in the procedure chair, if I had listened to my own voice telling me to take slow deep breaths, but I was deaf to it, and instead became fixated on the heart rate monitor bleeping crazy rhythms, watching my blood pressure increase and getting worried that the doctor would not find a vein in my arm for an IV. I was getting upset with myself for not being able to control my body’s reaction to a stressful situation. What I needed was a teacher’s voice, a voice of reason, and that came from my youngest daughter, Allison, who was sitting in the chair beside me and witnessing her mom losing her composure. One of my last vivid memories of the morning was Allison putting her hand on my leg and saying in a calm voice, “Mom, look at me. Let’s breathe together.”  So we did.

During the next couple of days, healing took place in two different realms—my mouth and my ego. Boy, did I beat myself up emotionally!  I felt like a hypocrite. How could I not practice what I preach? Should I even be teaching yoga? Really, how embarrassing for a yoga teacher to fall apart like that! My thoughts were not pretty. And then I serendipitously came across the above quote from one of my favorite spirit guides, Mister Rogers. His words, as they so often do, pulled me out of my hypercritical attitude. I decided to give myself a break and practice another one of my teachings: “letting go of judgment.” I remembered times in my life where I had remained calm during major life storms, and that helped me feel better about myself. I am human, after all, and even yoga teachers have dark moments!

We are all teachers; we are all students. It is learning to step into the role being presented to us and accept it with humility and grace that make us a better human being. I needed a teacher the morning of my procedure. My daughter saw that, assumed that role, and in a loving, calm way helped me rediscover my breath again. I am so grateful to her and for her.

Life always gives us exactly the teacher we need at every moment. This includes every mosquito, every misfortune, every red light, every traffic jam, every obnoxious supervisor (or employee), every illness, every loss, every moment of joy or depression, every addiction, every piece of garbage, every breath. Every moment is the guru. – Joko Beck, American Zen teacher (March 27, 1917 – June 15, 2011)

Bubbles and Butterflies

“If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together... there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart... I'll always be with you.”

“Sometimes,' said Pooh, 'the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”

 - A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

It has been over two years since my mom’s death, and I’ve been missing her more than usual lately. Maybe it was my grandson, Austin’s, first birthday at the end of August triggering these feelings of unresolved issues, and surely it is just part of the grieving process. Whatever the reason, I am learning to allow myself the time to absorb my feelings and work through them, which led me to my mom’s grave to sit and meditate recently. My Mom loved butterflies. We released butterflies at her memorial service, there is a butterfly carved into her grave marker and my sister and brother-in-law hung a butterfly chime on a tree branch above her grave. As I was leaving her gravesite a light breeze struck it, sending me on my way with a sweet tinkling sound.

Austin has been my mindfulness teacher lately. I have been rediscovering the world through his eyes. Every acorn fascinates him; we followed a single worm crawling across our porch, down the stairs and into the yard one morning; he delights in the sound of the leaves crunching under our feet when we “march” home from the park; and folks, if you have never gotten on your back to look up at the sky and autumn leaves, may I encourage you to do so! However the biggest lesson he taught me this summer was how to blow bubbles the “right” way.

Austin loves bubbles! I started blowing bubbles for him in the early springtime. We would sit outside and I would blow as many bubbles as I could, because we all know that more is better, (right?) until I stopped and observed him. He was not interested in the amount of bubbles; the flight of each bubble captivated him. So I slowed down.  I would blow one wand-worth and then we would watch each bubble do its thing until the last one popped, and then the whole process would start all over again, one…bubble…at…a…time.

It was towards the end of summer, during one of our bubble blowing sessions that I noticed the yellow butterfly. Austin noticed it, too, because when the last bubble popped, we were no longer interested in bubbles we were now watching the butterfly. This went on for the next couple of weeks, the yellow butterfly getting closer to us each week. On the fourth week, a blue butterfly visited us and sat on the porch railing, so close I could have reached out and touched it. Both Austin and I instinctively knew that stillness was the name of the game now as we watched the butterfly sitting there with its delicate wings gently fluttering, looking at us, too. It was in that moment that I felt a strong connection to my mom, and then it hit me; the butterflies were a sign, a poignant reminder that even though we are apart, my mom is always with me; she will always be my mom, a bond that cannot be broken. 

The butterfly sat on the railing for a few minutes, and then just like the bubbles, she glided away out of sight, continuing on her way. But I have the faith to know that her journey did not end on the porch railing, that she would move onward even though I could no longer see her; just like my mom. Less is more sometimes.

It took a bottle of bubbles and my grandson to help teach me that, and two beautiful butterflies to remind me of the metamorphosis we all go through. Our life journey from infant to adult is full of transformations, and maybe our journey never really dies, it simply changes into a new existence.