Book Review: Warrior Pose, With A Giveaway to Win Your Own Copy!

War correspondent and ultra-yogi aren’t exactly two identities naturally linked in my mind.  At least they weren’t until I read Bhava Ram’s Warrior Pose: How Yoga (Literally) Saved My Life.  And, now, just like that, they are.

I read quite a lot of memoirs, but despite my broad exposure to them, Ram’s (aka Brad Willis) stands out as particularly remarkable.  Plus, if you’re in need of a healthy dose of inspiration, this should do it.

The story goes something like this.  Willis leaves small town America to rise up through the ranks and become a successful, hard working war correspondent, traversing the globe to cover stories of international importance.  Already, you’ve got an interesting story, right?  Willis, however, suffers an injury (a broken back), which he tries to hide and live with.  As to be expected, the injury worsens over time and, through desperate attempts to cope, Willis finds himself addicted to alcohol, pain medication, and unable to maintain his career.

Then, he gets cancer.

Yep.  That’s right.  Cancer.

Things were not looking so great for our friend, Willis.

The story that takes over from there tells of Willis’ discovery of yoga, re-discovery of his sense of self, and a transformational journey to his own health and wellness: body, mind, and spirit.

I will confess that when I started this book, I was most interested in the parts about his days as a war correspondent.  My mind was piqued by stories of war, travel, and the human condition.  I wasn’t sure how I would feel about the rest of the book.  I tend to be somewhat wary of stories that speak of such dramatic transformation through spiritual means of any sort, so my guard was a bit up.  Surprisingly to me, as Willis’ story of his career shifted into the discovery of himself as Bhava Ram, I found myself remaining just as engaged and just as intrigued as I was at the start.

Yoga may or not be your thing, but I see in this book a narrative of embracing humility, exploring possibilities, and developing wisdom that just about anyone can relate to.  Yoga is the conduit through which Ram found these things for himself, but surely there is any number of methods that could be used for similar journeys.  And, if yoga is your thing, Ram’s story will uphold the belief of the restorative powers of a dedicated and consistent yoga practice.

Read this book for some international adventure, sure, but also read this book for a bit of inspiration and, just maybe, a dash of motivation to try some new approaches in your own life.

And, now, for the giveaway.

Ram and his publisher have agreed to offer a copy of Warrior Pose to one lucky reader of Move Eat Create.  If you would like to get your hands on your very own copy, please leave a comment below.  Each reader may enter once.  Comments will be counted and ordered, a winner will be selected with a random number generator, and said winner will be contacted via email, as well as listed here on this blog post.  The giveaway opens now and will run through Wednesday, 7/17/13 at midnight (PST).  My apologies to non-US living friends, but the giveaway is only open to those who can take shipping within the U.S.  Be sure to include your email with your post so that I can contact you if you win.

This giveaway has closed.  Congratulations to zebveg who won a copy of Warrior Pose!  Thank you to all who entered.

Disclaimer:  Though I was provided a copy of this book free of charge and invited to attend a workshop with Ram, all opinions about the book are completely my own. 

Good luck and happy reading!

The Super-Incredible Reinforcing Loop of Creativity and Confidence!

photo credit: Patrick Hoesly via photopin cc

I don’t know if this happens to you, but I’ve noticed this neat cycle in my life involving creativity.  I have even given it a name.  I am calling it the Super-Incredible Reinforcing Loop of Creativity and Confidence!

What do you think?

Sometimes I’m a total cornball, but it’s kind of great, right?? Eh???

Okay, in all seriousness, let me explain what I’m talking about.  It goes something like this:

I tentatively try something new.  This something new is successful on some level (maybe it’s great, but at the bare minimum, I survive it intact).  Feelings of wonder, amazement, euphoria, surprise, relief, and etcetera ensue from the successful venture.  Emboldened by these feelings, I try something else new, this time maybe a bit less tentatively.  And the loop starts again and again and again.

Sure, I’ve tried new things before, but what’s different right now is the way in which my creative mind is responding to it.  I’m keenly aware that with each endeavor my confidence builds just a bit more, which in turn, triggers more creative sparkage and subsequently builds even more confidence.

It’s quite the little snowball of activity, I must say.

And, my creative side is showing up in interesting ways.  I haven’t blogged about the more obvious manifestations of creative exploits lately (like my knitting) because I haven’t been doing so much of them, if I’m going to be honest.  (I miss this activity and will get back to it in time, but for various life-related reasons, I’ve had to take a knitting hiatus.)

But other creative endeavors are flourishing.

There is my cooking mojo, for instance.  I’ve been feeling much more inventive in the kitchen lately, heady with bravado, tossing strict recipes to the wayside and operating more organically, spontaneously, and fluidly as a result.

There is also my blogging/writing.  Ideas have been popping up in my head left and right.  The challenge for me right now is to organize them for filtering and action.

Then there’s my work.  Moving into a new job where I’m being given space and encouragement to think, try, and just go out and do has been refreshing and welcomed.

There are other things, too.  I’ve started a balcony garden, unleashing my creativity on the tasks of selecting seeds and planters, gathering ideas for growing methods and combinations of herbs and veggies to nurture.  I’m thinking about running and workout training methods with a fresh perspective.  I’m itching to refresh my wardrobe with some new infusions of color and style and having visions of ways to clean up and brighten up my living space.

It’s strikingly clear to me right now how much just simply surviving something that can be scary or intimidating can build new levels of confidence that filter in to so many parts of my life.  I am by no means totally triumphant in all the things I’m attempting, but just getting through them without complete disaster striking is sometimes all I need to spur the next attempt, the next idea, and the next big (to me) thing.  It’s one loop I don’t mind being stuck in.

Why Wednesdays? – Why Libraries Are Worth Saving

A Note About This Feature:  Why Wednesdays is a Move Eat Create weekly feature determined to turn the mid-week doldrums upside down and celebrate things I love to do and blog about.  I have completed series on the topics of running, creativity, and food.  Now, I’m being a bit random and discussing whatever strikes me at the time!

 

I come across quite a few blog posts, memoirs, and other stories that reflect back on happy childhoods, filled with innocence, fun, and fond memories.  If I’m going to be honest, my childhood wasn’t really like that.  I wasn’t a happy kid.  I was generally lonely and out of sorts.  I never really felt comfortable with my peers, was often trying to escape gloominess within my home, was all around a bit awkward and entirely lacked confidence in social settings.  Now, lest you think I’m sharing this to drudge up sympathy, that’s not the case.  Rather, I’m setting the scene for you, you see.  Because, though this was the reality of my childhood, it is not the whole picture.  And, it is not the whole picture, because I had the library.

My grandparents lived right behind the library and this was probably the single best thing that could have happened for me as a kid.  From a very young age, I would head over to my grandparent’s home after school, make a quick stop to drop off my schoolbooks, and then march out the back door, hurry through the back yard, hop over the wire fence, and find myself in the parking lot of the local library.  In I went, eager and full of anticipation for the time I would get to spend there.  Forget Disneyland, the library was my happiest place on Earth.

My library had a kid’s area with a sunken floor that was carpeted with game boards.  There was a giant hop scotch laid out, a checkerboard, even chess if you were that adventurous.  My library had tables just perfectly made for leaning over, with my eyes intently flying past words on pages.  My library had a magazine area with shelves of magazines covering news, politics, fashion, and entertainment all wrapped around a fireplace and a sofa.  My library had an atrium that was lined with plants and shrubbery and let the bright Arizona sun shine in on you, without also bringing the heat of being outdoors.  My library had shelves and shelves of books that offered me endless opportunities to feed my busy little head with images and stories and information that I devoured.  And, my library had Cheryl, the librarian, who knew me by name and welcomed me as an honorary young librarian.

It was extraordinary.

I spent hours there.  I read everything.  I read fiction and non-fiction.  I read all the books for kids, but when it became apparent that my reading level and comprehension were advancing rapidly, Cheryl recommended books for older kids, young adults, and adults.  I read those, too.  I got lost in pages of worlds, both real and imaginary, and used them as fuel for my creative fire.  I wrote stories of my own – some which lived only in my head and some which manifested on paper.  Not caring yet that I was a terrible artist, I drew pictures to illustrate the stories I read and wrote.  I let my vivid imagination run wild with ideas of what the world would be like when I grew up.  I could live in any of the amazing places I had read about (New York, London, California, Amsterdam).  I went on grand adventures with Charlie Bucket, learned compassion with Shel Silverstein, survived grade school with Ramona Quimby, made sense of high school with the Wakefield twins, fantastized about love with Danielle Steele, and learned to think abstractly with Vonnegut at my side.

Whether Cheryl the librarian responded to my apparent loneliness, to my ever-growing precociousness, or both, I’m not sure, but she let me at the whole place like it was my own.  When the return bin was full of books, she swung open the half door, letting me come behind the counter where I picked up one book after another, running it’s spine along the machine until it bumped up against the edge, in order to activate the security sensors.  I loved the sound of this process.  Sliiiiidddde, Thump.  Sliiiiidddde, Thump.  She let me wheel carts of books out to the floor and put them away on the shelves alongside her, lining up the spines straight and even as we went.  She gave me old copies of magazines when their time was up.  I carted them home where I lingered over the glossy images and studied how to write copy, imagining myself in the future as an editor, rushing to meet deadlines.

When summer came around, she invited me over to the annex where I helped her put together props and prizes for the youth summer reading program.  She asked my not-so-sage advice on which games to play and what theme to feature each year.  I prepped for the event and had such pride when other kids came to the program and enjoyed the fruits of our labor.

I always felt safe there.  I always felt at home.  I always felt a sense of belonging that I hadn’t been able to find anywhere else.  And I firmly believe that it is because of my experiences there, my discovery of the power of words on paper, that I developed my own creative streak.  The joy I find in a good book, in transferring my thoughts to written words, in painting images in my mind, was born in my time at this library.  As I’ve grown up, I still feel a sense of wonderment each time I’m in a library.  It’s easy for me to connect to the fact that in a relatively small, enclosed space, there exists millions of lives and stories, centuries worth of history and an abundance of prospects for the future.  I watched television and I played video games like other kids, but it was the library that taught me how to dream, how to imagine, and how to be at peace with myself (surrounded by books).

Last year, in the city that I live in now, my libraries were threatened.  Apparently, there are plenty of folks out there who don’t see the value in directing tax dollars to such a ‘luxury’.  Fortunately, Portlanders spoke up and voted to support our local library system.  Through news stories and personal accounts, I know that libraries are starting to be seen by some as a relic.  In the age of e-readers, Wi-Fi, and digital downloads, brick and mortar libraries with shelves and shelves of books may seem cumbersome.  But, for this reader and writer, they are comfort, creativity, and contentment personified.  They’re my oldest friends and my strongest inspiration.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

A Sampling of Prior ‘Why Wednesday’ Posts:

Why I Run: Crows and Tortillas

Why I Run:  The Pleasures of a Neighborhood Adventure

Why Creativity Counts: Series Recap

Why Creativity Counts:  It Connects Us

Why I Eat . . . Strictly For Myself

Why I Eat . . . Local

Why Wednesdays? – Why Creativity Counts: Series Recap

A Note about This Feature:  Why Wednesdays is a Move Eat Create weekly feature determined to turn the mid-week doldrums upside down and celebrate things I love to do and blog about.  Currently, the focus is on creating and creativity.

 

In my opinion, creativity so often gets a bad rap.  It’s too often thought of as something that a select group of people have. And while it may be considered fun, it is not necessarily considered ‘important’ by the standards of society at large.  It is not uncommon for creativity to be relegated to the ranks of crafters, kooky ‘artsy’ types and children.   There are two main things I would like to say about this.

photo credit: gfpeck via photopin cc

First, this attitude is problematic because crafters, kooky ‘artsy’ types, and children contribute wonderful things to our world which should not be undervalued.

Second, and probably the most consistent theme that I hope has come through in this series, is that creativity is so much bigger than that.  It is not the sole domain of specific, select groups of people.  We all have at least a little bit of it in us and it shows up in a wonderful hodgepodge of ways.

Plus, where the heck would we be without it?  Museums would be empty.  Restaurants would serve unseasoned rice and noodles.  Everyone would wear black.  Movies would tell the same stories over and over again (okay, sometimes it feels like this last one is already happening).

Science would be stunted.  There wouldn’t be an iPad.  Forget about giving your kids an Etch-A-Sketch or occupying their time with crayons.  There would be no building forts out of cushions and boxes.  There would be no Martha Stewart.  No Warhol or Da Vinci (and subsequently, no wonderful Doctor Who episode about Da Vinci).  No jazz.  No Broadway.  No Eiffel Tower or Golden Gate Bridge.  No Sesame Street.  No Choose Your Own Adventure books.  No yarn bombing.  No fancy cupcakes.  No Bob Ross and his happy little trees.

No progress.

No innovation.

No fun.

Am I being melodramatic?  Maybe.  It wouldn’t be the first time.  But, maybe not.

Our world moves forward with little steps (a new yarn shop on the corner!) and big ones (a new space mission being launched!) because of individuals who have creative thoughts and aren’t afraid to let them out.  Every clever new idea, every visionary plan of the future, every inventive contraption adds a little something to our world that we didn’t have before.  Some creative output fails and some prospers, but it all matters.  It all teaches us and inspires us and keeps things churning.

It is all valuable and we all have creative instincts in some regard.

So what are you waiting for?

Where’s your creative energy at today?

______________________________________________________________

Previous Entries in This Series:

Why Creativity Counts #5:  It Connects Us

Why Creativity Counts #4:  It’s Handy When You’re Cheap and Broke Frugal

Why Creativity Counts #3:  Self-Sufficiency

Why Creativity Counts #2:  It Makes You Smarter

Why Creativity Counts #1:  Because It’s So Much More Than You May Think

Coming Up:  Why I Eat . . .

Why Wednesdays? – Why Creativity Counts #3: Self-Sufficiency

A Note about This Feature:  Why Wednesdays is a Move Eat Create weekly feature determined to turn the mid-week doldrums upside down and celebrate things I love to do and blog about.  Currently, the focus is on creating and creativity.

I have no illusions about being a completely independent, self-sufficient person.  I know that I will always rely on the skills and talents of others to get through my life.  When my toilet breaks, I’m calling a plumber.  When I want to travel, I’m putting myself in the hands of a trained pilot.  When my computer breaks, I’m shouting for help from Mr. Move Eat Create.  You get the idea.

But as sure as I am in the necessity of calling upon others for their abilities, I’m just as sure that stretching my own talents is useful, practical, and enjoyable.  I want to be as self-sufficient as possible.  I want to know how to do things and to not be afraid to try, for better or worse.  Drawing upon my creative-self to become more self-sufficient just makes sense for a number of reasons.

Photo credit: Daniel*1977 via photopin cc

I’m a pretty independent woman, don’t you know?  When I don’t know how to do something that (in my mind) seems simple, it upsets me.

No.  Wait.

It pisses me off.  Yes.  That’s more accurate.

So the more creative I get with my abilities; the more handy I become; the more adventurous and clever in my talents; the more independent I am and the less pissed off I am.  It’s simple, really.

When I was getting ready to turn 30 I freaked out.  I had some very serious early-mid-life crisis action going on.  And then it happened.  The big day came and I was still a mess for a bit.  Now I am 32.  In those two years, a lot has happened to change my view about being a woman in my thirties and one of the biggest factors has been reflecting upon how much I know and how many things I can do that I couldn’t do just a few years ago.

And, I undoubtedly owe most of it to finding my creative side and letting it prosper.

Things I couldn’t do in my twenties:

•             Cook. (Okay, I could make grilled cheese sandwiches and mashed potatoes.  Not exactly an extensive repertoire.)
•             Knit.
•             Sew on a button.
•             Organize a useful pantry.
•             Develop a fitness routine that kept me engaged.
•             Make a tasty cocktail.
•             See so much beauty in nature.
•             Make a homemade greeting card.
•             Make my own scented body scrub/bath salts.
•             Put together an attractive outfit from thrift store finds.

Things I can do in my thirties:

•             All of the above.
•             More.
•             Be damn proud of myself for it.

Photo credit: [ henning ] via photopin cc

I used to be envious of my obviously creative friends.  My friends who decorated their homes with their own artwork, wore clothes sewn in their dining rooms, threw beautiful gatherings on their cleverly lighted patios and painted their own furniture.  Now I just recognize that I needed more time to find my creative streak.  I was busy doing other things and that’s okay.  You know why?

I was just saving these particular adventures for this decade.  My thirties don’t look so bad anymore.

______________________________________________________________

Previous Entries in This Series:

Why Creativity Counts #2:  It Makes You Smarter

Why Creativity Counts #1:  Because It’s So Much More Than You May Think

Why Wednesdays? – Why Creativity Counts #1: Because It’s So Much More Than You May Think

A Note About This Feature:  Why Wednesdays is a Move Eat Create weekly feature determined to turn the mid-week doldrums upside down and celebrate things I love to do and blog about.  Currently, the focus is on creating and creativity.

I’m not sure if others can relate to this, but for the longest time I was really confused about creativity.  I didn’t actually know that I was confused at the time.  In fact, I thought I had it all figured out.  I’ll take you through it.

When I was young, I learned that there were essentially two types of people.  Left-brained versus right-brained.  A-type versus B-type.  Creative versus not-so-creative.  I easily classified myself as a left-brained, type A, not-so-creative person.  I was analytical, for sure.  I was no doubt a rationale person.  A planner.  I still am.  That piece of my identity, I was not confused about.  The problem was that I had essentially learned that being such a person was mutually exclusive from being a creative person.

And learning this ‘truth’, I short-changed myself.

In elementary school, creativity occurred in art class.  Those that excelled could sketch with talent and paint with beauty.  Those that didn’t (i.e. me) slapped stuff on a paper and waited out the tortuous period, anticipating the bell to ring.

In high school, creativity occurred in electives.  There was art again.  But there was also photography, drama, and music.  My vision of what it meant to be creative expanded – but just ever so slightly.  I tried these things.  I really did.  And, I generally failed miserably.  I still couldn’t create anything beautiful from chalk or pencils or paint.  I was way too insecure and shy to get on a stage, and musical instruments were like foreign objects to me.  If it wasn’t a triangle with a little wand to hit it with, I wasn’t going near it.

By the time I reached early adulthood, I was entrenched in the mindset that I was simply not born with creative ability and would never obtain it.

It wasn’t my thing.  When I thought about it, this disappointed me, but it was something I accepted.

But oddly enough, as I moved through the world, met other people, read new things, and took different jobs, I realized just how confused I had been about what it means to be creative.  Creativity is not limited to art or theater.  Creativity is a mental process.  It’s a method of thinking and living that involves exploring new concepts, generating ideas, trying new things, and being adventurous in experimenting with thoughts and actions.

Once I understood this, it became clear to me that I am a indeed a creative person AND a type-a, left-brained, planner, too.

I’m creative when I problem-solve with clients at work about how to make their lives more safe and comfortable.  I’m creative when I wade through my apprehension to see what it feels like to work a sewing machine.  I’m creative when I see a recipe and start thinking about what spices to swap for one another and what vegetables I might want to use that aren’t included in the instructions.  I’m creative when I read a book and let my mind wander into a world of fantasy or when I generate ideas for blog post while out on a run.

I am creative all the damn time.

Seriously.

I bet you are, too. And, you may not even notice it.

My creative pursuits are most evident these days in my knitting, cooking/baking, and writing.  (By the way, I’ve always been a writer, but never thought of it as creative.  Since I generally wrote non-fiction-type things I didn’t think it counted.  Funny.)  But, as I’ve shared, it shows up all over the place.  Some of my most creative moments don’t necessarily have any tangible end-product.  Brainstorming with co-workers and solving problems with clients is a whole world of creative energy in its own right.

Moral of this story?

It took me to practice creativity in my thinking to understand what creativity really is.  Doing so has opened up a whole new sense of self and a fascinating abundance of possibilities.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

To read the previous series in this column, select the ‘Why Wednesdays’ tag in the right side column.  The prior series in this column explored the topic of running.

Why Wednesdays? – Why I Run, Reason #5: Breaking Out of Boxes and Shutting Down “You Can’t . . .”

A Note About This Feature:  Why Wednesdays is a Move Eat Create weekly feature determined to turn the mid-week doldrums upside down and celebrate things I love to do and blog about.  Currently, the focus is on running

I like proving people wrong.  I like shattering stereotypes.  I like challenging tired, old notions.

I sound pretty antagonistic, don’t I?

Stephen McKay [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Maybe I am.  But, really, I think I’m just someone who likes to push against boundaries a little bit – for the sake of opening minds, so to speak.  I don’t pick fights and I don’t defy for the sake of defiance, but I do debate and I’m not afraid of encouraging new ways of thinking.  This approach certainly has had an impact on my journey to becoming a runner.

Until recent years, I was not a physical person.  Beyond some sad (albeit fun) attempts at casual basketball, I was never involved in sports.  I had sporadic periods of fitness, but they didn’t last.  What I was was bookish.  Intellectual.  Intuitive.  Always adrift in my mind, but not really present in my body.

Now, though, I’m all of those things – all of what I was and what I wasn’t. I guess there came a point where (whether I realized it or not) I had something to prove.  I wanted to break out of the box that I was supposed to fit in and shut down all the voices that had said “You can’t.”  Because even though it’s not as if anyone ever set me down and said, “Shannon, you cannot be a runner!” in such a matter-of-fact fashion, I certainly did get that message time and time again.  As we navigate through the world, we get so many messages about who we are and are not supposed to be, about what we are and what we are not.  You know these messages.  They come from all around us.  They come from family, friends, teachers, bosses, television, magazines, film, and just about every other place you can imagine.

Like the rest of you I’m sure, I’ve received hundreds of these messages in my life, some of which I’ve shaken off and some of which have entrenched themselves in my perceptions and self-image.  The messages that most penetrate are the ones that box you in.  I was in such a box.

And I didn’t like it.

My box was filled with messages that told me (among other things) I could never be a runner.  Messages such as these:

• I was brainy, so I couldn’t also be athletic.
• I was getting older and people don’t just start something like that after 30.
• I didn’t have a body that was built for running or other athletic activities (I mean, in all honesty, when you have to look as hard as I have to find a sports bra that fits, that’s a message, people!).
• Being fit was only about looks and size and, as a feminist, I wasn’t supposed to be concerned about appearance or weight.
• Running was for people with a certain level of affluence – people who had spare time on their hands, not for people who always worked two jobs and juggled a full schedule.

Before I knew it, as so often happens, I bought those messages and I lived in that box.  My own voice became the strongest messenger of them all.  I believed that running was NOT for me. But then one day I ran.  Then I did it again.  Now, I do it all the time and I love it.  I don’t just run, in fact, but I am a runner.  I busted through that box, shut down the “You I can’ts” and it felt good.

Damn good.

Suddenly, I was more myself than ever.  I was that person who challenged antiquated ideas and pushed against stereotypes.  I proved naysayers wrong (including myself) and learned so much about who I am and what I can do.  Best of all, I continue to do it every single time I lace up.

Previous Entries in This Series:

Why I Run, Reason #4:  For My Health, Silly!

Why I Run, Reason #3:  Because I’m Able To

Why I Run, Reason #2:  Birds and Tortillas

Why I Run, Reason #1:  Stress Relief