winter

What is it about the cold months in Park Slope that make Brooklyn stand out like a Charles Dickens village? With all the chaos and commotion of our city, our world and our speck in the universe, it is Brooklyn that remains unchanged. Even with new renovations, new neighbors, new schools, hospitals and restaurants, the true heart of winter lives and thrives on the streets of Brooklyn. Some of this has to do with the deep roots of our borough, the history of Park Slope and it’s surrounding neighborhoods. But, some of it also has to do with Yoga.

Yoga has become a phenomenon in western culture. Brooklyn is no exception. This is nothing new. As human beings our attachment to the affects of yoga are great. Also, let’s face it; aside from the benefits we enjoy the community. It is in a yoga class where people find they can be alone. It is also in a yoga class that most people find they are not at all alone. So how great is our suffering during this season? How much time have we spent on our own hearts between the cool rush of holiday shopping and New Year’s promises? Winter in Brooklyn gives us the opportunity to deepen our practice in an open and more vulnerable way.

[pullquote]The four noble truths can guide us through a cold season and bring to light our own noble hearts. After all, winter is not about gifts or holidays or even resolution. Winter is about a solace we can find when we are quiet enough. [/pullquote]The true heart of winter resides somewhere between Windsor Terrace and Prospect Heights. I mean to say that if one walks through all of the neighborhoods that relate to these two places, there will be an abundance of coffee shops, a plethora of bars and a vast array of yoga studios. In the coffee shop laptops and frothy cappuccinos prepare us for our daily grinds by serving the daily grind. The bar allows us to unwind from the stressful perimeters of our work, family and home life. But it is inside the yoga studio where we may enter, remove our shoes and respect where we are in the moment. We do not try to escape the cold. Instead, we seek refuge and our own bodies feed us the warmth of our tired souls.

There are four noble truths that can be incorporated into these long months of winter; four noble truths seem to follow us on our paths to the heart. These truths ignite the cold months with a fiery reality. What we might find at the coffee shop, the bar or the yoga studio throughout the year is dukkha. Dukkha is the first noble truth in Buddhism and it roughly translates to “life is suffering”. I know, it sounds depressing right? Although this sounds awful it actually should have the opposite affect. It is a teaching that enriches the idea of impermanence. Our happiest moments can be considered dukkha because they too will end, and so we can say that our saddest moments are also dukkha. They will not last. Dukkha is significant in winter because the cold season too will end. Flowers will bloom again and so we can carry the first noble truth in our mind’s eye as a compass and as a means of letting go.

The second noble truth is tanha. Some translate this word as “craving”. This has to do with our human attachment to the things we desire, or just desire in general. Our need to attach ourselves to material objects, ideas and people create chaos within our hearts and minds. This truth has been realized on yoga mats all over the world. In Brooklyn throughout the cold months and the buying frenzies tahna sticks its tongue out at us and dares us to enjoy our lives as they are. Tahna asks us not to try and change anything but to see everything with a third eye as if we are hovering over ourselves without judgment but with a greater awakening of the spirit. It asks us not to hold on.

Nirhodha is the third noble truth and it is also an instruction on the end of suffering. It sounds so simple: just let go, stop craving things, stop attaching to things. But, I really want my cappuccino! This truth arrives at a slow pace. Through our yoga practice and meditation it comes. The need to grasp dissipates. We may awaken. We may stay asleep. But we practice. This is our path, which then leads us into the final and fourth noble truth.

The fourth truth, magga is our path. It is often referred to as the eightfold path because it is comprised of different areas and aspects of our lives and instructs us on how to walk our own path. In a nutshell it is a mindful way of living. The first three noble truths cannot exist or be realized without this one. The magga is like a sacred duty we have to ourselves and to the world around us.

The heart of winter in Brooklyn can be brutal. Or maybe I’ve just attached myself to that idea. But where there is a lull in the season, there is an opportunity to awaken on the yoga mat. The four noble truths can guide us through a cold season and bring to light our own noble hearts. After all, winter is not about gifts or holidays or even resolution. Winter is about a solace we can find when we are quiet enough. When we walk past the coffee shop, skip the bar and take off our socks at the yoga studio in order to look at our own feet, the ugliness, the beauty, the impermanence and the silent possibility of our own wonder.

Art by Heather Heckel

Full disclosure: towards the end of the fall, my editor assigned me a story on winter wellness. At the time, I was in some of the best shape of my life. I was about to run my third marathon, I was taking care of myself, eating right, going to bed early, and striking a nice balance between work and rest. Then it all fell apart. The day after I ran the Philadelphia marathon, my live-in boyfriend of nine years ended our relationship. There was very little explanation. He was unhappy, we weren’t working anymore . . . it took all of two hours before my life, as I knew it, crumbled in front of me.

Just a few days before, I was obsessing over getting enough sleep, eating right, and abstaining from alcohol for one of the biggest physical challenges of my life, and now here I was, 48 hours later on the complete opposite side of the physical and mental health spectrum. I spent the next couple of weeks couch surfing, living out of the trunk of my car, suffering panic attacks, and vomiting into trash cans. My work was suffering and I had hit an all-time low—in body, mind, and spirit. Perfect time to tackle an article on winter wellness, right?

The funny thing is, it probably was. I was starting from ground zero and had to start building myself back up.

The first leg of my journey landed me in the lobby of Brooklyn Boulders. Not only was I sleep-deprived, but I hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. I walked in, and truth be told, I was a little intimidated. First thing in the morning and the place was already buzzing with smiling faces, lean bodies, and Wu Tang Clan thumping over the sound system. But then I was warmly greeted by Luke Livesy, the curriculum director and all-around nice guy. We plopped down on the couch and Luke started to share his own story about how he fell in love with the sport. “I started climbing six years ago,” explained Luke. “When I came here I started as a guy at the front desk, and then, well, eventually I ended up where I am now.” He went on to explain his personal transition from skateboarder in England to rock climbing aficionado here in Brooklyn.

“So what do you think? Are you ready to try it yourself?” he asked. After a 20-minute crash course, I stared head on at the climbing wall looking skeptically at an alien puzzle of shapes and figures. “You have to figure out your route,” he said.

So, not unlike a 3-year-old, I stood and tried to decipher the shapes and colors, figuring out where to start my ascent, where my next move would take me, and then the next. I thought I had it all figured out. And then . . . it came to actually doing it.

Turns out climbing the wall and looking at it are actually two very different things. Once you’re up there, it’s very hard to see where to plant your feet. In a bout of self-consciousness, I took my first grip. My plan went out the window. I needed to get to the top, but I was getting tired and terrified immediately. My muscles weren’t used to this type of fast-twitch anaerobic challenge. I wanted to give up right away. But meanwhile, my buddy below offered encouragingly, “Hey there Nancy, you have a foothold there on your right. Use that for support!” (Is this sounding oddly metaphorical? Well, in my mind it did. Thanks, Luke.)

So bit-by-bit, I made my less-than-graceful way to the top with a little guidance from my friend. I was unsure of myself the entire time, ready to fall and embarrass myself, and each and every time, Luke cheered me on and pushed me to the next hold. Eventually I was inches away from the top. “Go for it, grab the top!” My heart was racing and I had zero faith in my muscles to finish the task. But then I did. And there I was, clinging to the top of the wall like panicked spider monkey. I solved the puzzle and made it.

By the way, when you free-climb, you have to get down. “Luke!” “What DO I DO??!” I bellowed.

“Let Go! I’ll help fix your fall!” he called back. That was the best thing I’ve heard in a very long time. I was about to let go and plummet to a mat of undisclosed thickness under me and I was going to just trust a man I met less than an hour ago. I let go.

I didn’t bust my ass. I didn’t bust anything, actually. It felt really good to let go and just land. Luke explained, “Children have less fear than we do. They don’t brace themselves for impact. Adults are the ones that need the most help learning how to fall.” True story, brother. I felt like I had been doing a lot of falling lately, and more than anything, I was terrified of getting hurt again. Luke, not knowing me more than a half an hour, was ready to make sure that didn’t happen.

I highly suggest taking a lesson from the staff at Brooklyn Boulders. Whether you’re familiar with the sport or are a complete newbie, a quick tutorial will unlock a lot of the mystery and alleviate some potential fears. For complete beginners, you will learn the basics of how to move your body, and for more seasoned climbers, there’s such a wealth of experience and knowledge that you will be sure to refine your technique and take your game to the next level. But no matter what, I recommend everyone give the sport a chance, as there’s no better feeling than making it to the top.

The next leg of the journey led me to the home of Michael McComiskey, a healer and practitioner of Qi Gong, and who I will forever refer to as the Park Slope Jedi Master. I had nearly zero reference points when it came to Qi Gong, but the very first thing Michael taught me was that you can’t pronounce it unless your eyes are closed. “It’s pronounced chi gong” Michael said with a chuckle. So I closed my eyes, said chi gong, and then there I was ready to channel some new mojo with the help of a grinning man whose shirt read “Keep Calm and Use and The Force.”

“Qi is life force, and in Chinese, that is a very rich concept. Qi manifests itself in many ways. It’s your aliveness. It’s also the level of energy you feel. Your enthusiasm. When your Qi is high, you’re optimistic, you’re vibrant.” (My Qi was most definitely not high as of late. So I was intrigued about how to get it up again.)

Qi Gong is thousands of years old and was started by ancient Chinese shamans, or wu, and was later refined by Buddhist and Taoist monks. Qi Gong is a three-fold concept, and as Michael explained, “it’s a physical wellness practice that literally produces healthiness. It’s a meditative practice, as it’s very mind-calming and clearing. And then it’s very much a Qi-cultivating practice.” The body has a steady stream of electrical currents pulsing through it constantly, and Qi Gong is all about channeling that energy to boost your energy, centeredness, and aliveness.

In fact, Michael referred to his practice as a form of healing, and not so much a fitness-related activity. “The Chinese don’t believe in no pain, no gain.” My ears perked up. Getting through the marathon was all about working past the pain. It was intense, taxing, even devastating at times. Now, someone was telling me that I could achieve wellness through a peaceful and intuitive approach, working with my body, not against it. It’s all built on slow, gentle, repetitive movements. “The idea is that each movement has it’s own particular gift. Over the past few thousands of years, people have figured out a lot of different ways to move and reap the benefits from the variations.”

While Qi Gong has hundreds of possible movements, we started with one simple exercise. “Relax your knees, tilt your hips forward, round your neck slightly. We are elongating the spine, and creating space for the energy to flow,” he began. We then took deep, long breaths, inhaling and exhaling slowly as we rocked back and forth from heal to toe, raising our arms with the inhale, lowering them with the exhale. I felt it after the first few repetitions. This was possibly the first time in weeks that I was able to breath fully. Michael explained that when our bodies are full of anxiety and stress, it’s nearly impossibly to take a full, deep breath. Having suffered several panic attacks as of late, this simple exercise was offering some much-needed release and relaxation.

In addition to exploring two practices for the mind and body, I mustn’t leave out what spending time with two new, kind faces did for the spirit. Winter is a rough season for many of us, especially in the Northeast. Dramatic break-ups aside, 10 million people suffer from seasonal affective disorder every year, according to the National Institutes of Health, which also cites social isolation as a risk factor for depression in adults. Social interaction is an important form of self-care that should not go neglected even if all you want to do is stay inside and binge-watch Netflix alone.

Regardless of the hostile conditions outside, inside, or in my case, both, making space for new people and experiences is a simple way to improve our well-being during a time of year when we are vulnerable to sickness, depression, and boredom. Why not open yourself up to a new practice this winter? As Michael’s parting advice: “After the elephant enters the tent, the tent will never be the same again.”

winter

YOGA: The Four Noble Truths

Letting the Elephant in the Tent