On Transformation, or Werewolves and Butterflies

I've always loved monster movies, especially the ones where the normal, run-of-the-mill folk get transformed into hideous monsters. I prefer my monster movies with the rough, pre-CGI transformations, like the original Wolf Man or American Werewolf in London.

That American Werewolf transformation is a particularly painful one to watch.

Any transformation can be painful, even the ones where you are not turning into a horrible monster. This yoga teacher training I am in has been anything but peaceful and serene, though it has provided moments of those feelings, too.

I am gearing up for Module III, the last ten day module of teacher training, after which I will be a 200 hour certified teacher. The teacher training is only part of the transformation that I have been going through, American Werewolf-style, for the past four years or so. After the birth of my twins and then my third son a brief spell after, I burned in the fire of anxiety and panic, got swallowed up in depression and fear. And somewhere in the process of trying to keep my head above water, trying to continue to be a loving and mindful mommy while my insides were churning and I was consumed in completely unregulated emotions, I learned some ways to cope with dread and still find beauty on a planet that wasn't (and frankly still isn't) living up to my high expectations. This transformation has been painful. I can see myself on the screen, writhing and howling, eyes turning yellow, teeth getting sharp, hair growing all over my body. Actually, since I turned 40, hair HAS been showing up in odd places ...

Some might find it more comfortable to compare the transformation from certified crazy person into yoga teacher to the transformation from caterpillar into butterfly. I certainly WAS chubbier before the transformation, and I DID eat a lot like The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

I imagine the transformation that a caterpillar goes through is probably pretty brutal, too. We just don't get to see it behind the screen of the cocoon. In the end the butterfly floats off on the breeze, blissful and serene (we imagine). Yes. This transformation isn't like that.

Again, there are moments of the blissful and serene, but there are more moments of hard work and continued challenges along the path to continued transformation. I still occasionally have panic attacks when I miss my "medicine" - daily yoga practice. My body is sore and my brain is tired more often than not. But I still feel like I'm transforming into something stronger, more resilient, and more aware than before.

The comparison to the werewolf movies really hit home this weekend, after Saturday morning yoga class with Bo. I have been working hard to bring space back into my cervical vertebrae, into relaxing my neck and upper back muscles while strengthening the muscles that pull my shoulder blades together and down my back. All of these areas have been set asunder by pregnancy, nursing, having giant breasts that really no one should have to carry around all day, and by stooping to compensate for being six feet tall in a world where ladies are expected to be much smaller than that. At any rate, Bo worked these areas on Saturday, and on Sunday I woke up looking like I was going through a werewolf transformation. I was sore all over, my neck was kinked, and the muscles of my shoulders were burning like they were on fire. I had that hung over feeling that you sometimes get after a really strong workout or after a massage. It was all just the pain of muscles truly exercised - no damage - but it still hurt. That's what this transformation has been like physically and emotionally more often than not.

While I have been contemplating my transformation and the upcoming finale of my teacher training, there has been a debate raging over the relative merits of yoga practice. More on that in another blog. But this quote from Barbara Benagh (from this Sunday's Boston Globe) sums up my feelings on that subject as well as my feelings on yoga and the transformation it can bring:

"...I conclude that [yoga] is neither inherently dangerous nor guaranteed to be safe and healing. Yoga is a process that requires a willingness to look at one's own physical and mental patterns with honesty and humility, and to develop the discipline to seek physical and emotional hardinesss. It's a lifelong and imperfect process for which I am thankful daily."