William S. Burroughs
William S. Burroughs
I don’t believe in coincidences. I believe in synchronicities, divinely inspired–and a beautiful indication that you are on the right path.
The more you practice yoga, the more synchronicities will show up in your life.
The more you breathe in and breathe out, the more synchronicities will appear “out of nowhere.”
The more you listen to your intuition, the more your life will begin to resemble a fun and exciting adventure/mystery, with clues unfolding each moment—when you are present and aware.
A few weeks ago, after I had gotten the (false) results of a negative pregnancy test, Philippe leaned over and whispered to me during our Saturday afternoon teaching training session “I saw a rabbit in our yard this morning”
I smiled, even though I “knew” that this wasn’t “our” month for Project Dakota coming to fruition. After all, the test came back negative.
Later that week, Philippe handed me a business card: “look what the cleaners found,” he said with a smile.
It was my midwife’s card—a good 3 years old—which had somehow surfaced out of a pillow on a playroom couch.
“It’s a sign!” he exclaimed. “Just like the rabbit!”
“Yes, it’s a sign, “ I sighed with a smile. Loving the sychronicities of the baby waiting to come to us, but waiting for the actual manifestation to make its way into our lives.
The following Monday it snowed. The kids had no school and my chiropractor canceled my weekly appointment. We therefore didn’t do the ultrasound work on my lower back that we sometimes do to open it up—a procedure you’d never do if you were pregnant (which I wasn’t—or so I thought).
On Friday after I taught the noon time class at Prana Newton, a student asked if I was pregnant.
“No,” I said. “I did a blood test and it was negative.”
“Hmmm, that’s weird,” she replied. “I could’ve sworn you were and I’m usually right on. But I guess no one’s right 100% of the time.”
The next afternoon another student told me she dreamt I was pregnant.
“Some day soon,” I smiled.
Meanwhile, my breasts were sore, my low back ached, I was starving all the time, had mild cramping in my abdomen, and was heading to bed every night exhausted right after I put my three kids down.
“PMS,” I told myself, as my period was 1, 2, 3…9, 10, 11 days late.
So no matter what the Universe sent my way in the form of divine messages (sychronicities) that Baby Dakota was indeed in my belly, beginning his/her journey on this planet, I was not open to this information. The blood test had spoken.
How many messages/sychronicities do we miss because we aren’t open? Because someone/something/an “authority” has told us otherwise?
How much life and joy are we closed down to—even if messages are coming from our very own bodies?
And how do we open up to these magical messages? This adventurous fun and mystery?
It’s super-simple: slow down, breathe, and connect.
For me, the easiest and most enjoyable way to do this is to get on my yoga mat. Daily. For me, my practice keeps me connected to the magic and joy that is all around me every moment—when I’m present enough to be open to it.
Sure there are times when I still miss it (hello, 7 weeks pregnant today!), but I’m on the path.
And so are you, Super-mom.
Claude M. Bristo
Winnie the Pooh
Last Thursday I woke up early, peed in a cup (as I’ve grown accustomed to doing over the last several months to ascertain whether I’m ovulating), and got on my yoga mat.
After my practice, I woke up the kiddos, got them ready for school, fed them the best breakfast ever, and was helping them get their coats, boots, hats, and gloves on when I realized: “I never did that pregnancy test!”
I ran upstairs, dipped the stick into the cup (“One one-thousand, two one-thousand…”), put the cap back on the stick and began to turn away to resume the off-to-school flurry, when something caught my eye…
There, before my eyes, in only a few seconds (much less time than the suggested two minutes) was a dark blue + sign, as plain as day.
I almost fell over as something that I can only describe as sheer joy and total surprise filled my body–although those words don’t quite capture the feeling. No words do.
My husband and one of my best friends, Alex, both said they wished they could’ve seen the expression on my face. I wish I could’ve too because that was hands down the most surprised I have ever been in my entire life.
That Universe! Just when you think you have things figured out. J
The previous night and the night before that, when I laid in bed tossing and turning, unable to sleep and feeling starving, it didn’t occur to me that I could be pregnant. It didn’t occur to me that that has been my pattern for my last three pregnancies—I would know I was pregnant because I’d have difficulty falling asleep and/or wake up in the middle of the night starving, even if I’ve eaten abundantly during the day and night.
It didn’t “occur” to me because I had totally let go. Allow me to explain….
I had had an epiphany a week and a half earlier on my mat that that very day I was to begin my “immersion.” My “pregnancy immersion,” if you will.
It came to me that day on my mat that it was time that I really commit to this “project.” After all, “at the moment of commitment, the Universe conspires to assist you.” (Goethe)
I’d had so many fun, adventurous projects going on (running the four Prana Power Yoga studios and everything fun that comes along with that, teaching 4 doubles a week at the studios, Prana Power Yoga Teacher Training ’09, The Abundant Prana Conference (coming April 11 from 1-4 at Prana Cambridge), O Water (my 3 kids and I are going to have our own label), writing a children’s book, The Prana Cleanse™ (coming May 14-17 at Prana Cambridge), creating and building The Prana Raw Café (3 doors down from Prana Newton in Newton Corner), writing for Super-mom.com, and most of all, being a Super-mom to my children), that I hadn’t given “Project Dakota” (as my husband and I had come to affectionately call our intention of having a fourth child) my full-on focus.
“That was going to change–right now,” I told myself with a smile.
But this was a different sort of resolution than those I’d had in the past. There was no frustration, impatience, anger, regret, guilt, or fear attached to this intention. It was truly and purely a focus, and it felt so good.
Here was the “Project Dakota Immersion Plan” that my spirit laid out for me: meditate on the baby and visualize, say my mantra a lot (“I’m pregnant, I feel great, and I go to sleep at eight”), get acupuncture every other day, and take Clomid.
“Clomid?” you ask. “But isn’t that a Western Med and isn’t it, uh, a fertility medicine?”
You got that straight Sister.
And I was on a mission to take it. But that meant finding some—fast.
I was amazed that my spirit was advocating medicine (I don’t take any medicine except thyroid hormone because I have an anti-thyroid antibody), but I ALWAYS listen when my higher self speaks, no matter how my mind disagrees with the message.
Clomid, for those of you who’ve never heard of it, is a medicine you can take to help you ovulate, and roughly 10% of those who take it have twins. That’s a loose definition, but that’s what we have Google for. J
Philippe and I became ecstatic with the thought of twins. “Two babies with one pregnancy!” we giggled. “What could be better?” (as those Super-moms of twins roll their eyes at the sheer naivete’ of us non-twin parents).
My friend had gotten Clomid from her GP, so that’s where I headed. I “happened” to be going to my thyroid doc anyhow on that particular Monday to get my blood levels checked (12 hours after my big epiphany), so I casually asked him to write me a script for Clomid.
He seemed a little taken aback, and this surprised me.
“I don’t prescribe that Taylor, ask Gigi.”
It turns out that Gigi, my GP at the Marino Center, doesn’t prescribe it either.
They suggested I go to an IVF Center.
“Oh no,” I thought. I am not going THERE.
The thought filled me with trepidation.
So long story short, a friend of a friend agreed to hook me up.
I was elated.
“Twins!” I mused.
The friend of a friend happens to be a highly respected OB/GYN and so of course, she wanted me to do some blood work and come in and see her before she handed it over.
“Ugh, I just want the Clomid,” I thought, “Can’t she just write me a script?”
But then a moment later I came back to my breath and the process—the path– of “the Immersion.”
Many, hours on my mat has taught me (and will teach you) to trust the process. To “Hold your vision. See it. And trust the process.”
So I turned my boat downstream, and let go of the oars.
I went in for the blood work on Monday and our appointment—where I’d get the precious Clomid—was Friday am. I subbed out the two classes that I teach at Prana Newton that Friday morning to make the appointment with the OB, a clear indication to The Universe of my clear commitment to “The Project” and “The Immersion.”
The doc had told me that I’d start taking the Clomid on day 5 of my period, and that I needed to wean Phoenix, our 26 month old, NOW. The very night we spoke.
I weaned Phoenix somewhat easily (thanks to my husband who took over his bedtime routine) and breathed a sigh of relief and freedom as I experienced the first time I had been not pregnant and/or nursing in 6 years.
My energy increased (from not nursing)! I felt great. I said my mantra all day every day (“I’m pregnant, I feel great, and I go to sleep at eight.”) and one night after getting the three kids down I glanced at the clock and realized it was actually a possibility for me to get to bed somewhere in the 8 O’Clock range.
I was amazed, and thought “It’s happening.”
But still no period. Where was it? I was way past day 31 (when I’d gotten it last month) and of course day 27 and 29 (the two months prior), so where was it?
My friend Adrienne kept saying “Maybe you’re pregnant.”
“No, I’m not. I know I’m not,” I replied dismissively.
“Besides, when I’d had my blood work done for my thyroid last Monday, the pregnancy test was negative. And those aren’t wrong, are they?”
The second night that I couldn’t sleep I crept downstairs to eat raw chocolate pudding in the kitchen as the clock ticked away a night I would remember for the rest of my life.
I thought to myself as I savored one of my favorite raw foods on the planet (which we’ll sell at The Prana Raw Café, just for Alex. J) “Well, maybe I’ll do a pregnancy test tomorrow, just to be sure, and if I AM pregnant, I won’t tell Philippe, and then when we’re supposed to be driving to the Doctor appointment tomorrow morning to get the Clomid, I will give him a big box all wrapped up beautifully with a huge bow, and inside it he’ll find the positive pregnancy test stick and I’ll say SURPRISE!
I smiled at the thought and then fell fast asleep, full of chocolate pudding and gratitude for the ability to catch some zzzzzz’s.
So what do you think I did when that stick said HOME RUN?
Ran down the stairs and into the mudroom where I found Philippe and the kids finishing up the pre-school prep, and blurted out the best news ever: I’M PREGNANT!
So much for the surprise in the big fancy gift box, but THIS surprise needed no gift wrap.
“Every day is a great day, some days are better than others” my uncle said to me last week. Becoming a mother was one of those exceptionally “great” days. Iris’s first night I could hardly sleep. My body buzzed with adrenaline. This joy carried me through the first few weeks. I was surprised at my resilience, running on no sleep and little food. I was like the energizer bunny; I just kept going and going, fueled by love for my sweet, soft, cuddly newborn.
Fast-forward 7 months and although the novelty of having a newborn has slightly dulled (we are very much into a routine at this point), I still find myself continuously amazed. So, here we are on a Sunday night in January. Iris has been sleeping since 7pm. At around 10:00, I hear her stirring and crying. When I enter her room I hear gurgling, sniffling and coughing. It occurs to me that Iris might have her first cold (her father has had a cold for a week at this point and it seemed inevitable that she caught it). I nurse her and rock her but she is still upset, which is rare (she is normally a very happy baby). So, I decide to bring her downstairs. We snuggle on the couch and I rock her back and forth on my knees for an hour or so. When I bring her back to bed, she falls right to sleep, yes!
The next morning, as I wipe dried snot from her face (chisel it off more like). I have a feeling the next few days will be challenging, especially since I am sick as well! Monday night did not disappoint. At 3:00 in the morning I found myself in the rocking chair (for the fifth time that night), rocking, nursing, soothing, rocking, nursing, soothing, repeat, my eyes half open with a pounding headache. I thought to myself “this is what makes mothers so special”. Because even with no sleep, feeling like I’d been trampled by elephants, I still had the capacity to care for and nurture Iris. In my rocking chair meditation, I could appreciate that mothers are very special people (fathers are too but this is about mom), because as soon as you become a mother (however that may be), there is a transcendence that takes place. The person who immerges is the best version of you. You are a person with boundless energy, exploding love, you are “mommy” and everyone knows there is no substitute for “mommy”.