<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800</id><updated>2012-02-16T15:21:22.346-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Psychology of Yoga: Eastern Thoughts in a Western Mind</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>183</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2594030729184390409</id><published>2012-02-13T21:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-13T21:02:47.701-08:00</updated><title type='text'>valentine's day - it's black and white</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Today is Valentine's Day and I figure it's about time I posted a bit of Korean life. I search high and low for korean culture and often come up empty handed. Even this tradition of White and Black Days seem to have been absorbed from the Japanese.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throughout the day I have been giving out conversation hearts to my students. Having learned from experience (distributing red vines nearly induced vomiting) I had the candy in one hand and trash can in the other. As expected, I saw most of the children's faces turn from the thrill of receiving candy to shock then to disgust. Those who could not be polite had to spit it out. They find our candy to be way too sweet. The taste overwhelms them. I find this exercise to be cathartic. Kimchi is the most disgusting thing I have ever put in my mouth. It's payback. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Valentine's Day is a commitment over here. Not just a casual day to remember those you love. It is the beginning of a springtime full of events...&lt;br /&gt;February 14th (Valentine's Day) women present men with chocolate&lt;br /&gt;March 14th (White Day) men reciprocate with candy of equal or greater value&lt;br /&gt;April 14th (Black Day) single people eat Jajangmyeon (google it...I'm not looking forward to trying it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, if you are one of those people who hate Valentine's Day, it probably seems to never end.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2594030729184390409?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2594030729184390409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2012/02/valentines-day-its-black-and-white.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2594030729184390409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2594030729184390409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2012/02/valentines-day-its-black-and-white.html' title='valentine&apos;s day - it&apos;s black and white'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3524126541026574555</id><published>2011-12-27T15:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-27T15:15:52.090-08:00</updated><title type='text'>christmas</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Christmas has just passed and I thought I'd take a moment to let you know about the holiday here in Korea. It is not the same, and for the most part, dismissed. There are some folks who may give a gift or two to their children but overall, Christmas is seen as sort of a date night. Seriously. It is more like valentine's day. If you can find a holiday card, it is most often romantic in nature. Stores do not go all out with decor or selling stuff to celebrate. People do not decorate their homes (few have a tree - small, artificial). Carols do not play from every speaker. There are christian churches everywhere but I have learned they are mostly for show (showing how "western" korea is). A handful of people may fill the seats. No nativity scenes out front or anything like that. Overall, the holiday is given very little effort or thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new western friends made the most of it though. I hosted a potluck that afternoon and filled my tiny apartment with cheer and incredible food (chicken, mashed potatoes, nachos) and a hard fought game of cranium. As with anything in life, christmas is what you make of it and the most important part is being surrounded by loving happy people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OAdHtN6wJ6k/TvpQZgXyddI/AAAAAAAAAFI/8Kz1v3_S0bg/s1600/ocean+sauna+trip+12.11+012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OAdHtN6wJ6k/TvpQZgXyddI/AAAAAAAAAFI/8Kz1v3_S0bg/s320/ocean+sauna+trip+12.11+012.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the few decorations I saw in December - it was at a coffee shop near the beach a couple hours from where I live. Seems to sum up Christmas in Korea: "Ha Ha Ha!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish you very happy holidays!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3524126541026574555?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3524126541026574555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3524126541026574555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3524126541026574555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas.html' title='christmas'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OAdHtN6wJ6k/TvpQZgXyddI/AAAAAAAAAFI/8Kz1v3_S0bg/s72-c/ocean+sauna+trip+12.11+012.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-8561065895931938995</id><published>2011-12-22T15:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-22T16:38:50.620-08:00</updated><title type='text'>communicating</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;It has been a while since my last post, and it has not been due to my lack of adventure here in Korea, it has been due to my computer reaching the last moments of its life.&lt;br /&gt;The problem(s) began several weeks ago with "freezing" and just got worse from there. Unfortunately I speak as much computer as I do Korean, and I find myself responding to both in the same way: make my request clearly in english...find a blank stare in return...try to reason in english...continued blank stare in return...I decide I don't need it anyway and move on with life without it.......realize I do need it and return to making requests clearly in english...blank stare in return. It is a vicious cycle.&lt;br /&gt;Thank goodness for auto save, but even with it, it still has taken me over a week to get this far in this post. &lt;br /&gt;I cannot be too upset with the computer. It has served me well. It is just a little netbook and I have used it nearly every day for about three years. It has been to over a dozen states, has skyped from a beach in Thailand, traveled through Cambodia, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Panama, Canada, India...where I have gone, it has gone, and served me well.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot get this fixed here in Korea, and it looks like the language barrier isn't the only reason why. It seems to be a hardware issue.&lt;br /&gt;As with all things in life, a solution will come to pass and I'll find a way to move forward. Just wanted to keep you posted. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-8561065895931938995?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/8561065895931938995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/12/communicating.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8561065895931938995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8561065895931938995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/12/communicating.html' title='communicating'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3650261540976615515</id><published>2011-12-07T05:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-10T01:19:22.199-08:00</updated><title type='text'>phateeg</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;This last week I had two "consultations" in the health care industry here in Korea. After finally kicking the cold that haunted me for my first month, I find myself still worn out by the afternoon of each day. It's not debilitating, just annoying. When your job is to keep the focus of small children for hours on end, one needs lots of energy. So, I got aggressive with fixing the fatigue. I figured all I needed was a B12 shot and I'd be good to go. Simple enough right?&lt;br /&gt; My friend Marisa knew of a doctor in town who speaks a little english, so over our lunch break last Wednesday we head down there. She had seen him a few months ago (she got the cold that everyone gets upon arrival). They seemed to recognize her and the receptionist asked for her name in Korean. She replied Marisa (that's how I know what they asked her). The receptionist then turned to me. I said Misty and wrote it on a piece of paper so she would know how to spell it.&lt;br /&gt;We were then pointed to seats in the waiting room.&lt;br /&gt;I was loving this already...getting to see a doctor with nothing more than a first name. No ten pages of forms to fill out with questions I have no intention of answering. No interrogations of health insurance. No payment due in advance. Just "misty" and I'm in!&lt;br /&gt;Within a couple of minutes we were moved into the next room where the doctor is. He looks at us, points to a chair that I sit in and says "yes". I can tell instantly that this is not a man who is fluent in english. Memories of market trash bags and toilet paper flash through my mind. Here we go.&lt;br /&gt;Marisa takes the lead.&lt;br /&gt;I have learned by observing the other teachers that each person seems to have their own method for dealing with the language barrier. Some try to mix a bit of korean in with the english. Some enunciate their english clearly and slowly hoping the recipient has some english experience. Some choose their words - not making complete sentences, only saying the actions or items required. And, you all know my approach: just keep speaking at them as though they understand, hoping that if I talk long enough something will stick.&lt;br /&gt;Marisa is a choose her words kind of gal. She starts with "injection" and pantomimes giving someone a shot.&amp;nbsp; She then says "vitamin B".&lt;br /&gt;"Hmmm" he replies.&lt;br /&gt;Silence. &lt;br /&gt;Oh for goodness sakes. I haven't the patience or energy for this literal charade. I start right in..."I have been feeling fatigue. I need energy and caffeine isn't enough. I'm feeling tired every afternoon and just need a boost into my system to get me going. I feel great about everything else, I just want to be more alert. B12 is quick and easy, can you just give me the shot?"&lt;br /&gt;"Phateeg" he says as though he is seeing how the word feels in his mouth. It is like talking to ET. I have no idea if he understands the word, but he seems to understand he has a tired white woman in his office. He comes at me with the tongue depressor and I open and say ahh.&lt;br /&gt;He then speaks korean and although she also does not speak the language, Marisa has picked up a bit of understanding, and determines that there is no B12 to be had here.&lt;br /&gt;He then says in english: "you have one hour?"&lt;br /&gt;"No" we reply. We have 30 minutes max.&lt;br /&gt;"hmmm...." He then says something to a nurse and we are moved back to the waiting room. Marissa said she heard the korean word for "quickly" so whatever this is should be done in time for us to get back to school. The nurse has brought along with her an IV cart. She points to this poster (written in korean) that clearly explains what she is going to put in us. Excellent. We're in.&lt;br /&gt; Marisa's body takes the IV no problem. The nurse misses the first time on me, hitting a little nerve, but she switched to the other arm and lickety split my friend and I are "getting healed". How awesome is this?!&lt;br /&gt;I photographed the poster and when we returned to school asked a korean teacher to translate.&lt;br /&gt;Basically we received an infusion of assorted vitamins, fruit, and umbilical cord. We were thrilled. Marisa felt great soon after the infusion. I was quite excited at receiving baby cells, but it just didn't seem to get me where I need to be. So Friday (yesterday) I went to see an acupuncturist at a chinese medicine hospital near our school. Needles, electricity, and a little fire built on my belly. More awesomeness on the medical front. I have missed eastern medicine and plan to milk my opportunities here as much as I can. I have a standing appointment every friday with the acupuncturist. I'm looking forward to what I will learn and how my body will change from consistent oriental treatments, and I plan to go back for the fruit and cord infusion once a month. Six months from now I'll be a whole new woman :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3650261540976615515?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3650261540976615515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/12/phateeg.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3650261540976615515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3650261540976615515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/12/phateeg.html' title='phateeg'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-4836104923878840947</id><published>2011-11-30T15:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-30T15:25:44.073-08:00</updated><title type='text'>all things familiar</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I have now been here exactly thirty days, and I find myself beginning to settle into a routine. Each day is not completely filled with fear of the unknown...it's only 25% filled with fear now. :)&lt;br /&gt;I had a conversation with a friend the other day who reminded me that when I go to leave Korea it will be difficult. I will be attached and find myself nostalgic. Quite true I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;Human nature is to stay with that which is familiar. We take comfort in what we know, even if it is wrong, or hurts us, or holds us back from our full potential.&lt;br /&gt;Change is terrifying. Just think about it, they say the most stressful things in life are a move, a new job, death of a spouse...the common denominator here is change. Suddenly everything lifts up and shifts and you are no longer feeling in control.&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling light this morning, so I'll take a turn on this path and not go down the road of the need for detachment. Instead, I have been creating a silly list in my head of things I will &lt;u&gt;not&lt;/u&gt; miss when I leave Korea - no matter how attached I get. These are in no particular order. Hopefully this will inspire you to be grateful for what you have this morning...&lt;br /&gt;1. Having to turn on the hot water anytime I need to shower, wash dishes etc. (it does not come out of the tap automatically) and then having to remember to turn it off so it doesn't cost you a fortune being on for hours.&lt;br /&gt;2. Having to boil water anytime I want to drink water&lt;br /&gt;3. Not having a clothes dryer&lt;br /&gt;4. Not having a microwave oven&lt;br /&gt;5. Not having any type of oven&lt;br /&gt;6. Not having a dishwasher&lt;br /&gt;7. Showering over a toilet&lt;br /&gt;8. Trash all over outside&lt;br /&gt;9. the food. it just isn't for me. I'll take some photos soon and let you know what I mean&lt;br /&gt;10. Not being able to communicate - it is incredibly limiting when you cannot just ask when you need help&lt;br /&gt;11. Not having hairdressers, manicurists, massage therapists (I know, you're thinking "hey it's asia - that should be everywhere", nope) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just embracing the novelty of this environment and having an open heart and mind to whatever the universe wishes to teach me. The things on my list are waiting for me in America, and I only have 11 more months to absorb all I can while I'm here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-4836104923878840947?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/4836104923878840947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/all-things-familiar.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4836104923878840947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4836104923878840947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/all-things-familiar.html' title='all things familiar'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-421073730587083951</id><published>2011-11-28T15:06:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T15:21:38.734-08:00</updated><title type='text'>my favorite place in Korea</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;It is holiday time, and although I am in a culture that does not have decorations up and christmas music playing through every speaker, I am undeterred. I could not find holiday cards anywhere, heck, I cannot find postcards anywhere, but I was wise enough to pick up a few postcards on my trip to the green tea plantation a couple of weeks ago, and I decided to make those work. This means that if you receive a postcard from me you made the short list (and I have your address - I need to collect more addresses). Anyway, I decide to send holiday green tea postcards because one does the best they can with what they have.&lt;br /&gt;Once the postcards were ready I realized the scariest part was ahead of me - mailing these meant I had to go to a Korean post office. You may recall my adventures at the "mart". After nearly a month here I still speak no Korean, and memories of a postal system that literally turns people violent in my homeland made me apprehensive about this quest. &lt;br /&gt;As I said though, I am having happy holidays at all costs, so I take many deep breaths, calm my mind, put a smile on my face and head into the post office.&lt;br /&gt;It is heaven.&lt;br /&gt;It is incredibly organized. You take a number when you arrive, and if you'd like there are lovely orange chairs to wait in, surrounded by fresh blooming plants. When you get to the counter, there is the exchange one would assume - me speaking english and literally laying all my cards on the table, and a korean woman speaking korean sorting through my money and items. The big difference between this and what I was prepared for is the politeness, and ease of completing the task. She directs me to a little man (I had been told before about the "little man") he sorts and prepares everything for you. If you want to mail a package, you bring your items and he puts them in the proper box or envelope for shipping. The little man was all I had dreamed he would be. Very helpful, smiled the whole time. He grabs another number for me, and when it was displayed, my items were stamped and on their way. Easy Peasy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jSv9lT9WgNQ/TtQW_yFp2bI/AAAAAAAAAE0/JUNQN_0gBS4/s1600/korea+post+office+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jSv9lT9WgNQ/TtQW_yFp2bI/AAAAAAAAAE0/JUNQN_0gBS4/s320/korea+post+office+005.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qOtRKNey7WM/TtQXHe4yShI/AAAAAAAAAE8/XBCXYbW4Mn8/s1600/korea+post+office+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qOtRKNey7WM/TtQXHe4yShI/AAAAAAAAAE8/XBCXYbW4Mn8/s320/korea+post+office+006.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next time I go I will try to photograph the little man. It seemed weird to ask him to pose at the time, but maybe as we get to know each other better :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-421073730587083951?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/421073730587083951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-favorite-place-in-korea.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/421073730587083951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/421073730587083951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-favorite-place-in-korea.html' title='my favorite place in Korea'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jSv9lT9WgNQ/TtQW_yFp2bI/AAAAAAAAAE0/JUNQN_0gBS4/s72-c/korea+post+office+005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-7434609868818318314</id><published>2011-11-18T18:58:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-19T05:16:46.272-08:00</updated><title type='text'>illness</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I have been sick for a couple of weeks now. Several times a day I will cough for minutes on end, extricating all sorts of evil gunk from my body. It does not surprise me that I have caught something(s). I am in a foreign country that does not embrace "clean" by the average american standard and I spend my days surrounded by children...and we all know they are just vessels for bacteria.&lt;br /&gt;What has surprised me is the response (or lack thereof) to my being quite ill. None of the Koreans (at school or in town) even flinch when I am bent over hacking. One korean teacher even offered me food from a communal container seconds after I had coughed all over my hands. I asked her to take the item out for me and this made her uncomfortable. I told her I just coughed on my hands and I don't want to touch the food or container that others will touch as it can make them sick. She looked at me as though I were from another planet, not just another country. I realized once again that the things we take for granted as common sense for not spreading disease do not always convey in other cultures.&lt;br /&gt;No one has said I should stay home until I am well. No one has offered medical assistance or even suggested I see a doctor. No one seems concerned that this can be spread to others. &lt;br /&gt;Earlier in the week a Canadian teacher had one of his students throw up in the hallway. He had turned to a korean teacher for help who seemed confused by this. She explained to him that the vomit needed to be cleaned up (if he was unable to do it, a janitor could be found). That was all she said, so he pressed...shouldn't her parents be called? No. again, confusion...why would her parents be called? He explained that back home if a child throws up at school they are sent home until they are well. This idea seems just as odd to the Korean teacher as his finding it odd that a child would throw up and immediately be returned to a classroom.&lt;br /&gt;So, after hearing of that little girl I am grateful that all I have is a sinus infection and the cough that follows. I am drinking gallons of green tea, and several students have brought me vitamin c (god only knows what their parents think of the new american teacher who cannot stop coughing).  I am riding this out, hoping somehow at the other end of it I will have a stronger immune system.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-7434609868818318314?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/7434609868818318314/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/illness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7434609868818318314'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7434609868818318314'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/illness.html' title='illness'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3395616044590505542</id><published>2011-11-15T04:35:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-15T04:49:34.791-08:00</updated><title type='text'>An American, A Canadian, and a South African get into a cab in Korea...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I have noticed that many of my real life moments often mimic the set up of a joke, and it makes me happy on a very deep level. The taxi story is true, just the other day a few of us wanted to go buy a lamp. loading up to do that, one couldn't help but notice the reality of it all - three virtual strangers from two different continents taking a ride from a complete stranger located on a third continent. Just going to get a lamp can become an existential experience.&lt;br /&gt;On some levels we are new friends. But within each and every one of us here there is a story; a journey that brought us to this moment and the journey that will take us away. I am blessed to be surrounded by people who for all different reasons made the same choice. We start off with a mutual respect knowing we are kindered spirits, and allow deeper connections to grow or tear as they will. No rush on anything, it's like a tour of duty. These people will be my battalion for this mission and I must pull my own weight to make this a great experience for each of us.&lt;br /&gt;What a gift it is for me to have new people come into my life, people who are educated and talented and brilliant and adventurous and independent. I find myself feeling inspired by my colleagues, my friends. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3395616044590505542?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3395616044590505542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/american-canadian-and-south-african-get.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3395616044590505542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3395616044590505542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/american-canadian-and-south-african-get.html' title='An American, A Canadian, and a South African get into a cab in Korea...'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2232440527361517526</id><published>2011-11-11T17:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-11T18:00:18.959-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pepero Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I experienced my first Korean holiday yesterday. November 11th is Pepero Day; it is less a holiday and more a marketing campaign in overdrive.&lt;br /&gt;Pepero is a slender breadstick dipped in chocolate. A couple of decades ago the company that makes Pepero declared November 11 "Pepero Day" because the shape of a stick resembles the number one, hence 11/11 is just a stack of pepero sticks to be indulged in. People give them to friends and sweethearts, a brand specific valentine's day. I have heard that pepero sells more on November 11th than all other days of the year combined....Rumor or not, one cannot deny the campaign's effectiveness when displays such as these greet you in major stores:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2nj1XJAvxYs/Tr3SgwgKNqI/AAAAAAAAAEs/jSn60ML_rNA/s1600/pepero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2nj1XJAvxYs/Tr3SgwgKNqI/AAAAAAAAAEs/jSn60ML_rNA/s1600/pepero.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2232440527361517526?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2232440527361517526/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/pepero-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2232440527361517526'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2232440527361517526'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/pepero-day.html' title='Pepero Day'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2nj1XJAvxYs/Tr3SgwgKNqI/AAAAAAAAAEs/jSn60ML_rNA/s72-c/pepero.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-1584427792546850728</id><published>2011-11-10T15:22:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-10T15:33:16.380-08:00</updated><title type='text'>11.11.11</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;It is a bit misty this morning here in South Korea. It is Friday, the end of my first week being solo at teaching, and I feel I am getting settled. Last week I felt as though I had dementia, and on some levels I did. Adjusting to an 18 hour time difference and hitting the ground running with a new job in a new country. I had to make myself notes on every item....how to walk to the school, who were the other teachers, where were the classrooms I taught in, what I taught in those rooms...it got all sorts of complicated with notes for the notes and my certainty that I'd never remember anything. Finally though it is coming together and I am starting to figure it all out.&lt;br /&gt;I have an apartment, and eventually will be fully unpacked and Gwangju will feel like home. &lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately I have done no yoga for the last couple of weeks. It is absolutely on my to-do list to add to my routine and I know that it will help with this transition. There is a place nearby that offers classes in Korean and I am excited to check it out. In the meantime I am trying to kick a cold that was inevitable. Yesterday evening I met a very nice pharmacist who speaks a little bit of english...the important words like pseudoephedrine and dextromethorphan...so hopefully the little blue pills he has given me will kick my symptoms. :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-1584427792546850728?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/1584427792546850728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/111111.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1584427792546850728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1584427792546850728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/111111.html' title='11.11.11'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-1139230271266350619</id><published>2011-11-05T17:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-05T17:57:27.817-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waste</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I move out of this "love motel" and into my apartment Monday evening.&lt;br /&gt;As Mondays and Thursdays are my long days at work, my boss had mentioned to me on Friday that there were a couple of items I may wish to pick up this weekend. Both had to deal with waste - the kind that you throw out and the kind that comes out...specifically trash bags and toilet tissue.&lt;br /&gt;He explained the trash first. It seems that here in Korea instead of people paying for trash removal as a monthly bill, you pay as you go, with the trash bags. If you have trash you would like removed from your home, you must place it in a government sanctioned trash bag in front of your house. If you do not utilize the government issued trash bag, someone (no one seems to be sure who this someone is, but I have been assured he exists) will go through the bag to determine which home the trash came from, and then empty the trash out in front of your door.&lt;br /&gt;I had previously asked about recycling, and was told that if I would like to recycle bottles or paper or boxes that these items can be placed in anything and left on the street and someone (presumably a different someone than the angry trash dumper) will collect them and trade them in at a recycling facility.&lt;br /&gt;That done, he wrote out in Korean the name of these trash bags and told me a store where they could be purchased here in town.&lt;br /&gt;Next we moved on to toilet tissue. Here is that conversation pretty much verbatim:&lt;br /&gt;Boss: "In Korea it is their culture that if toilet tissue is used, it is then placed into a trash receptacle and not flushed down the toilet. &lt;i&gt;pause as he looks at me to ensure I have understood - I nod, he continues...&lt;/i&gt; If this is not your culture, you will have to purchase special toilet tissue that may be flushed. If you do not purchase the proper tissue, when your toilet clogs you are responsible for the cost of having someone come in to fix the problem".&lt;br /&gt;He then wrote out the Korean letters that will be found on the proper toilet tissue on the same piece of paper.&lt;br /&gt;No problem. I'm all over this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday morning I went to the market for what I believed to be a simple shopping trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I scour the place and find several boxes with all sorts of plastic wrap, but no trash bag boxes at all. I look and I look and I look...nothing. What I did find were several types of toilet paper though, so I figure start with that. I take my piece of paper with the phrase in Korean I am looking for and quickly realize that everything on the packages is in Korean - I don't even know where to begin to look for the words that translate to "special kind that can actually be flushed in a toilet". I'm turning them around, flipping them over...I was at a loss. I also will admit that I do not remember which words on my scrap of paper were toilet tissue and which were trash bags, so I have to look for both on each package.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see a woman who works at the store loading packages of toilet tissue onto a cart. I figure this is her area of expertise, perhaps she can help me. I smile and approach her with my tiny piece of paper with the korean words. I point to it and say (of course in English): which of the toilet papers here can be flushed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She stares at me, so I mimic a flushing toilet - swirling water sweeping away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She stares at me some more, then stares at a co-worker who has come to watch the show that is blonde white girl in korean market.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I point at the stacks of toilet paper and then back at the writing on my paper and shrug my shoulders and put out up my hands like "which one?"&amp;nbsp; The woman then begins reading all of the packages. I found this odd, as she seemed to work in the toilet paper department...wouldn't she already know the specs of each of these packages? I'm pondering this when she finally points to one package that of course costs roughly $16 US. Talk about money down the drain. I understand now that most people cannot afford to flush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that we have built this rapport (I don't think she would call it that even if she spoke english) I refuse to leave until she also assists with my trash bag situation. I point again at my scrap of paper and say "I have looked everywhere and cannot find trash bags - where are they?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She heard "garblygarblygarbly" and goes back to the stare. I point and with desperation in my eyes say "please help me".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She then says "garblygarblygarblygarbly frontay garblygarblygarblygarbly". Ah ha - I caught something there - FRONTAY - "they are in the front of the store?" I ask and point towards the front."garblygarblygarblygarbly frontay (with a nod in that direction) garbly speak korean garblygarbly".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I head to the front of the store and look at every item on every shelf. Nope, nothing trash bagish there at all. I return to the woman...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Listen, I have been here for over an hour now. I am exhausted and confused, and afraid of this strange man who lives among you who will throw trash at my door. I don't want trash at my door. There is enough trash on the streets. I will have bugs and rats and all sorts of ick. I am trying to do the right thing, but it appears to be impossible."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What she heard: "garblygarblygarblygarblygarblygarblygarbly" which I assume she interpreted as "I am an American so I am going to continue to speak english at you until you have resolved my issue"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She replies "garblygarblygarbly frontay garblygarblygarbly speak korean garblygarblygarblygarblygarbly" which I interpret as "hey, you are the one who came to this country without speaking korean or having any idea of how to dispose of waste here. You will now either have to speak Korean or go back to the front of the store and find someone else to bother.  I work in the toilet tissue department and I have provided you with your fancy flushable paper. My responsibilities towards you are complete."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I see your point" I said to her and went to pay for my $16 toilet paper. Waiting in line, I decided to go for one more last ditch effort with the cashier. She rings me up and I hand her my scrap of paper with korean. She looks at the toilet paper and nods and then looks at me and says "garblygarblygarbly". Hmmm...I lean forward trying to get her to repeat it (as though it will be more clear a second time). "garblygarblygarbly" and then she holds up two fingers, then one finger then five fingers and I realize she is asking me for how many. I have no intention of having to go through this again anytime soon, so I use all my fingers..."ten?". She leaves and comes back with ten loose government sanctioned trash bags. I'm overjoyed. She rings them up...$8. These are wastebasket size - not kitchen size bags. They are also thin as can be, and I'm sure I'll rip through the first few. Nonetheless, I left the store with the essentials; and an understanding of why there is so much loose trash on the ground and icky bathrooms all around...it is expensive and tedious to be clean.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-1139230271266350619?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/1139230271266350619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/waste.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1139230271266350619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1139230271266350619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/waste.html' title='Waste'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6595384455482537742</id><published>2011-11-01T13:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-01T13:23:13.614-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Age is just a number...but which one?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="color: #20124d;"&gt;It is early morning November 2nd here in Korea. A close friend's birthday back home.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #20124d;"&gt;In America birthdays are far more simple than in Korea. Each year the day you exited the womb is honored by your officially becoming another year older.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #20124d;"&gt;It's not so simple here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #20124d;"&gt;When I was first told about teaching my kindergarten class a few weeks ago, I was informed that the students I would teach were around four to six years old. I of course assumed that meant some students were four, some were five, some were six. Nope.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #20124d;"&gt; As it turns out, the same student can be simultaneously four and five, or four and six. I'll try to explain...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #20124d;"&gt;Koreans start counting age conceptually when the baby begins. When a person exits the womb, they are one. No need to wait for that day to come around again next year for a first birthday. It doesn't stop there though. Here in Korea everyone becomes one year older at the lunar new year (the first day of the first lunar month - the second new moon after winter solstice), no matter where you are in your own life cycle. So, let's walk through this...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #20124d;"&gt;Let's say a baby is born in Gwangju today, November 2nd (with 7 billion people on the planet, odds are one is being born right now). Anyway, they are one today. Lunar New Year this year is January 22nd. So our fictitious baby will be 2 on January 22nd. By our western standards the same baby would be considered just over 11 weeks.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #20124d;"&gt;By contrast, if a baby is born in Gwangju on February 1st next year, they would remain one until lunar new year 2013.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #20124d;"&gt;So, the students here are grouped by age ranges that are quite different than what you would see make up a western kindergarten. Two children born only weeks apart could be considered more than a year apart in their Korean age.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #20124d;"&gt;I have been overwhelmed by new information the three days I have been here, and the jet lag is grueling, so math is just beyond my comprehension. As a result I have not yet done the research to know where I fell on the lunar chart. Being a January baby, I am quite certain many years would be added to my age, and my western vanity just isn't ready to take that hit. For now I just mess with the children, when asked my years age or western age I give them the number I know. When asked my Korean age I just go to town adding decades saying 67, or 73, or 45... whatever tickles my fancy in the moment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #20124d;"&gt;This whole structure has got me thinking though. In society we often mention that there are people who have old souls. I wonder if there is any correlation between these old souls and the east asian cycle of aging. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;That research will have to wait for another day though. Today I just have to become comfortable with the fact that everyone has a birthday, but we have more than one age.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6595384455482537742?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6595384455482537742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/age-is-just-numberbut-which-one.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6595384455482537742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6595384455482537742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/11/age-is-just-numberbut-which-one.html' title='Age is just a number...but which one?'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-7616407683000248025</id><published>2011-10-31T14:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T14:29:20.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="color: #b45f06;"&gt;So I've been here just over 48 hours, and yesterday was my first day on the job. It is fitting that it was Halloween, a day of everyone dressing up to be someone or something they are not. This year I was an American teaching in Korea. It's a costume I won't soon forget. The jet lag helped to blend fantasy and reality as my brain tried to process all the new information being thrown my way.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #b45f06;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #b45f06;"&gt;Koreans do not celebrate Halloween, but as the school I work at infuses not only English, but also western culture, we had our own little world within those walls. It isn't a hard sell for the children: you get to wear a costume (which is always awesome) and say "trick or treat" then people give you candy. No wonder people love america ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #b45f06;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #b45f06;"&gt;My housing is a bit delayed, so I am living out of suitcases for a week or so which makes the transition even more difficult. As with any new job, and trans-pacific move, these next few days are long ones for me. There are moments I am grateful that things such as red bull are global. With the forced bursts of caffeine pumped into my system I'll put the pieces together on this new journey and keep you posted on the progress.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #b45f06;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color: #b45f06;"&gt;Happy Halloween!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-7616407683000248025?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/7616407683000248025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/10/halloween.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7616407683000248025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7616407683000248025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/10/halloween.html' title='Halloween'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><georss:featurename>South Korea Gwangju Nam-gu Songam-dong 633-3</georss:featurename><georss:point>35.101934057246055 126.8701171875</georss:point><georss:box>31.811788057246055 121.81640618750001 38.392080057246055 131.9238281875</georss:box></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6997102690770988215</id><published>2011-10-26T13:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-26T13:50:21.412-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rose of Jericho</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="color: #990000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;While on a girls weekend in New Orleans last February I discovered an amazing plant, Rose of Jericho. What makes it unique is that it can curl up inside of itself and go completely dormant for days, months, years. While in this state one might believe it is just a piece of dead brush; but give it a small amount of water and it flourishes, turning green and blossoming at length. The cycle can continue eternally.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #990000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #990000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;I feel a kinship with this plant as I come back to this blog after a year of turning inward. I am now ready to flourish in a new environment, to drink in the fresh water and be inspired to bloom.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #990000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #990000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Shortly I board yet another airplane. This time I am moving to Korea. The Rose of Jericho will be coming with me. I am excited about the adventure that awaits, and certain that I will discover wonderful new insights of yoga, eastern thought &amp;amp; medicine... life.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="color: #990000;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color: #351c75;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #990000;"&gt;With the travel and jet lag it may be a few days before my next post, but I promise it will not be a year. Stay tuned.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6997102690770988215?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6997102690770988215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/10/rose-of-jericho.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6997102690770988215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6997102690770988215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2011/10/rose-of-jericho.html' title='Rose of Jericho'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-5135445267366850086</id><published>2010-10-21T22:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-21T22:27:07.592-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taipei</title><content type='html'>I am loving Taiwan :)&lt;br /&gt;After the exhaustion of getting less than two hours a night sleep in hong kong, the pace here has slowed to just being a tourist.&lt;br /&gt;Super typhoon megi has adjusted her path to follow us here, but the taiwanese are not nearly as panicked about it as they were in hong kong. Everyone is happy &amp; treating it as was it is...wind &amp; rain.&lt;br /&gt;Upon arrival last night, we encountered the spirit of joy that seems to run deep among the locals. Walking through the lobby a random man smiled at me and said "you will get good news".&lt;br /&gt;When I requested additional pillows (because I do not share a bed with my husband) the woman who brought them found Zach crawling along the floor, fighting with outlets. She was giggly and kept saying "uh oh!" as she watched him struggle. She tried to help (without speaking English) Zach was tired &amp; scooted her along only to realize later she knew exactly what was happening &amp; was showing him where a more convenient outlet was above the desk.&lt;br /&gt;English was standard in hong kong. Most of the people were white. I have often said that going to hong kong is about the same ad going to new york. Not so in Taipei. Languages flourish, many locals not speaking English. The people are pleasant, not aggressive in shops, and the streets are lovely mixes of parks, shops, business buildings, homes, hotels. Bustling cityscape, and although the weather is dreary, the mood is pleasant.&lt;br /&gt;We have a tour this afternoon, then a night market. I'm so glad to have this experience with Zach. Have I mentioned how great he is? ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-5135445267366850086?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/5135445267366850086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/taipei.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5135445267366850086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5135445267366850086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/taipei.html' title='Taipei'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-7263329646079928275</id><published>2010-10-20T00:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T00:07:09.164-07:00</updated><title type='text'>megi</title><content type='html'>The weather here in Hong Kong has been "quite unusual" for the season. Each day we are given various updates about Typhoon Megi, and the possibility she may hit the islands. The air pressure, and heat/humidity have wrecked havoc on my body, especially&amp;nbsp;when intensified by jet lag. It also has been interesting to see what something looming in the air does for the mind.&lt;br /&gt;Today at a luncheon I asked a local if Megi will hit Tawain (we are scheduled to head there tomorrow).&amp;nbsp;The reply was "she has not decided yet". &lt;br /&gt;The path of this storm various from website to website, person to person, but her gender has never been in question.&lt;br /&gt;Megi is complicated, she is strong, but indecisive and spontaneous; she may be powerful in fury or simply float on by. She is every bit a woman.&lt;br /&gt;The power of nature is met with great respect in Asia, the fact that it equalizes all of us is frequently recognized. The fact that this particular force of nature has been given the conotation of feminine has not been lost on me, as a woman who understands that there are many definitions of what a woman is or isn't,&amp;nbsp;should or shouldn't be, and the power I have to choose my path at any given moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-7263329646079928275?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/7263329646079928275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/megi.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7263329646079928275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7263329646079928275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/megi.html' title='megi'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6887147658715693688</id><published>2010-10-13T06:35:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T06:35:24.593-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Love me, love my passport</title><content type='html'>I took my passport out of it's resting place in my safe today, so thrilled to see each other again.&lt;br /&gt;There is a rush that gamblers get when they hear chips clink together, a rush that alcoholics get when the hear liquor pour into a glass. My rush comes from that authoritative "stamp stamp" of immigration- validating that I have entered a foreign land.&lt;br /&gt;I don't want to study china as much as I want to GO to china...to experience it all firsthand, immersed in their culture. So, tomorrow I leave behind the struggles of being tested on traditional Chinese medicine &amp; head off to experience traditional Chinese medicine...in china.&lt;br /&gt;If ever asked for one item in my life that represents who I am, I'd hand over my passport with pride. Each stamp is filled with memories of great adventure. It is who i am, and it says all you need to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6887147658715693688?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6887147658715693688/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/love-me-love-my-passport.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6887147658715693688'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6887147658715693688'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/love-me-love-my-passport.html' title='Love me, love my passport'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-1046979336493888458</id><published>2010-10-10T20:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T20:51:03.365-07:00</updated><title type='text'>10.10.10</title><content type='html'>With numbers as in sync as today's, I could not let it pass without a quick post.&lt;br /&gt;I wish my life were as balanced as the numbers of this date, but I take comfort in the fact that even if it were, tomorrow it all changes again. Life is ebb &amp; flow.&lt;br /&gt;I'll return to classes this week with three quizzes ahead of me, while still reeling from the ones I endured last week. School is hard, even for those who conform easily; it is a bit of torture for those of us who don't.&lt;br /&gt;While struggling to transition, some may say this is the worst time for me to be taking off to asia. Maybe, but there is something worse, not going.&lt;br /&gt;Travel is my true passion, as you know, with Asian travel topping the list. I am soothed in the culture, and could use some soothing, some reminding as to why I need to stick with my studies.&lt;br /&gt;So, throwing caution &amp; responsibility to the wind, by the end of the week I'll be off again for a few days of adventure. Before that begins, I will spend a few hours content in the balance of today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-1046979336493888458?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/1046979336493888458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/101010.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1046979336493888458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1046979336493888458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/101010.html' title='10.10.10'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-9171380386448201516</id><published>2010-10-09T07:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T07:12:13.735-07:00</updated><title type='text'>zach will come</title><content type='html'>I seem to have my own version of the field of dreams mantra: &lt;br /&gt;"If you move there, Zach will come".&lt;br /&gt;I have spoken about my mobile friend and his compassion in helping me look for myself, no matter the location in which I seek (with one caveat of course, he will never never never set foot in India with me&amp;nbsp;again - &lt;u&gt;never&lt;/u&gt;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I relocated to the desert a few weeks ago to study oriental medicine, and so, of course, Zach is coming.&lt;br /&gt;I have mentioned before that Zach &amp;amp; Brian are yin and yang in my life. If I were to fall down, it is Brian who would tend to the wound, while Zach would say "I am &lt;u&gt;not&lt;/u&gt; going to carry you". &lt;br /&gt;People need both in their life, and just like Yin &amp;amp; Yang, Zach &amp;amp; Brian are not that simply defined, but it does help you to understand the options I have when I need someone to get me through - nurture and drive in two equally complicated forms. I could not survive without them, and over the years, we have come to know each other better than we know ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;In understanding someone, it is important that you&amp;nbsp;see their environments, where they live and work, the people who surround them...&amp;nbsp;all the pieces that complete their puzzle.&lt;br /&gt;I have met members of both Zach &amp;amp; Brian's family (lovely people),&amp;nbsp;and there is one story that I wish to share with you today...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several years ago Zach and I were chatting about one of us upcoming comedy shows. He mentioned to me that his father would be coming in to town to see the show. He planned to bring his wife. I would meet them for the first time.&lt;br /&gt;I had known that Zach's parents had been divorced for quite a long time, but are still great friends. I also knew that Zach's father had married a younger woman years ago. I thought I had a feel for the situation, and was looking forward to meeting father and step mother. &lt;br /&gt;The night of the show I was seated in the area of Zach groupies. Zach introduced me to his father and was then quickly distracted by the attention of other fans. I sat down, started chatting with the father and&amp;nbsp;the girl sitting next to him. They were clearly were quite familiar and comfortable with each other, and I tried my best to get to know them.&lt;br /&gt;Problem was, she was just a girl, probably younger than I at the time. When the father introduced his companion, I couldn't help myself and blurted out "wow, you are &lt;u&gt;really&lt;/u&gt; young". She just sort of smiled and went with it, not sure how to respond.&lt;br /&gt;As the evening wore on, I felt myself becoming increasingly disgusted. It all just felt so wrong to me. I'm telling you, she was much too young to have had a relationship of any length of time with this man. She was much too young to be having a relationship with him now - and to be his wife?! To take this debauchery out in public?!&lt;br /&gt;It just kept eating away at me. At one point in the conversation I turned to her and asked "how old are you anyway?". She told me, and as quickly as possible, I excused myself and chose another seat. I love Zach, I did not wish to offend his parents, so I just removed myself from the situation before any more alcohol was consumed.&lt;br /&gt;After the show I found a moment alone with Zach and told him that although his father seems like a nice man, and his wife seems equally nice, that the two of them together just didn't sit right with me. I said, "for goodness sakes Zach, that little girl could be your sister!". To which he replied: "that was my sister".&lt;br /&gt;Oops.&lt;br /&gt;In a few days Zach will meet my sister for the first time. God only knows how this will go, but since it is me and Zach (and the shenanigans that inevitably ensue)&amp;nbsp;I'm hoping she has a sense of humor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-9171380386448201516?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/9171380386448201516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/zach-will-come.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9171380386448201516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9171380386448201516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/zach-will-come.html' title='zach will come'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-9070485256913134494</id><published>2010-10-06T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-06T06:00:04.692-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping it together</title><content type='html'>There are times in life when it feels like the universe is one of those automatic tennis ball machines - running at high speed.&lt;br /&gt;We race to tackle each thing that is thrown at us, hitting some, missing a few (and not having time to even worry about that as the next one is already coming).&lt;br /&gt;Saying that life is in high gear is an understatement. I estimated last night that I'm spending 75 hours a week focused on oriental medicine. It should be more, but I just haven't the strength. I need to dig deep &amp; build up even more stamina.&lt;br /&gt;We all have been through times like this, and we all seem to get through it. I need to keep it together and have faith I will too. It's only three years.&lt;br /&gt;My yoga practice is suffering my fatigue. That's a tough one, having less of that when I need it most. The balance will come, if i stay focused.&lt;br /&gt;Right now it feels as though life is a rowboat in an ocean storm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The seas will settle though, if I just remain upright &amp; keep rowing. Calm waters will surely come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-9070485256913134494?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/9070485256913134494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/keeping-it-together.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9070485256913134494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9070485256913134494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/keeping-it-together.html' title='Keeping it together'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2789788595421144392</id><published>2010-10-03T12:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T12:04:51.557-07:00</updated><title type='text'>focus</title><content type='html'>On Monday I have my first exam in this oriental medicine program. Yes, I have only had one week of classes, but somehow, by noon on Monday, I will have had eight lecture hours of anatomy &amp;amp; physiology in addition to ten pages of homework and six textbook chapters of reading. It is all coming at me so fast.&lt;br /&gt;I have ten, yes, ten classes this semester. The normal load or so they tell me. I cannot imagine medical school being this demanding. In addition to their being ten courses, the content is all over the map from one to the other. Some courses are taught from eastern philosophy, some from western philosophy. Some are memorizing body parts and functions, some are memorizing history, some are memorizing things that don't really exist except on some higher level of tradition, some of it is memorizing chinese, some of it is chemistry, biology, physics, some of it is memorizing three hundred herbs &amp;amp; substances. Some of the classes are quite physically challenging in addition to the mental toll of learning so much so fast. (for one class we are in what is pretty much a squatting position for 50 minutes straight while my arms are working to the point my shoulders ache). On top of it all, I have to learn everything in two directions...What is the right answer in one class may be the wrong answer in the next, or it may not, and I have to know why it does or doesn't&amp;nbsp;(eastern/western thought can conflict).&lt;br /&gt;I am proud of my self discipline, my ability to do what it takes, but with getting up at four am, making sure I breathe and exercise before class, having classes and study be all that I do during the day (literally) and still not being able to keep up, I wonder how anyone has ever made it through this program before.&lt;br /&gt;Am I retaining anything at all? I have told you before that I&amp;nbsp;am a slow learner. Throwing things at me quickly seems to make me even slower. I need to learn one thing at a time - really learn it - before I am able to fully learn the next. When I know something, I know it, I'm not just regurgitating a memorized statement, I understand it with all that I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mysore style of yoga is one that a student is given some basic postures by the teacher. They practice those as long as it takes until they are mastered, and then an additional posture is given, practiced, mastered, and then another. It takes as long as it takes, a life long process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I learn better that way, by doing, again and again and again, at my pace, until I have mastered it in my way. Going to school this way, learning a lifetime of information&amp;nbsp;in three years will be incredibly challenging.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2789788595421144392?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2789788595421144392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/focus.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2789788595421144392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2789788595421144392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/10/focus.html' title='focus'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2067376753090566361</id><published>2010-09-30T06:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T06:00:03.748-07:00</updated><title type='text'>half moon</title><content type='html'>Tonight is the center point between this cycle's full and new moon - it is waning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The power of lunar cycles is something I certainly believe in. Nature will try to balance us whether we like it or not. Better to work with nature than against it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have found myself split in half these last few days, unsure if I should commit three years to this desert life, or move on to an environment (not just climate) that better suits my nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having the moon split in half during a time I feel split in half is somehow comforting. In odd ways, we are in sync i suppose. And, I know that in due time the moon, just as I, will renew itself and move forward into the next cycle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a wonderful person offer to lend me a book on the power of moon cycles before I left SF, but I just didn't have the time to get to it...or perhaps I seek her wisdom and insight to the book more than the book itself, written by a stranger. Food for thought, and either way I find myself this morning already missing the moon as the sun begins to rise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2067376753090566361?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2067376753090566361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/half-moon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2067376753090566361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2067376753090566361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/half-moon.html' title='half moon'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6814682404920415351</id><published>2010-09-30T04:26:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T04:26:06.021-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dreams</title><content type='html'>There is a lot out there about dreaming. I incorporate several schools of thought on the matter, and often have found the topic to be much like religion - impossible to prove who has the right answer to what is going on when we are not "awake &amp; living".&lt;br /&gt;Most of my life the night comes and goes without incident aside from frequent insomnia, and the occasional man who prevents enough sleep.&lt;br /&gt;This last week though I keep rising with vivid recollections of the odd things my subconscious has going on when I let it take over. &lt;br /&gt;Maybe the desert heat is taking it's toll. Maybe it is the mental exhaustion that nine classes &amp; a preceptorship has brought into my life. Maybe it is the stress of the move &amp; boxes still unpacked.&lt;br /&gt;It is all of those things I'm sure. Each part of our life has it's place within our overall puzzle.&lt;br /&gt;For now, I'm just going to be grateful for the vignettes, and let them be.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I will find insight in these little mind stories, or maybe I'll just consider them mid-night entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;Let me know if you are passionate about dreaming. I'd love various points of view as food for thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6814682404920415351?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6814682404920415351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/dreams.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6814682404920415351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6814682404920415351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/dreams.html' title='Dreams'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3284092520801405728</id><published>2010-09-27T19:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T19:47:19.047-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Subconscious</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I perused some photos of providence a friend had posted on facebook. &lt;br /&gt;That night I had a dream of my ex from when I lived there over a decade ago.&lt;br /&gt;I woke in awe at the power of the human mind. Within each of us we have filing cabinets that could rival the CIA - every moment of our lives.&lt;br /&gt;Just when we think we are fully focused on the here &amp; now, our memories remind us of that which has been left behind.&lt;br /&gt;The subconscious escapes every now &amp; again to remind us of who and where we have been, and how that makes us who we are, wherever we are, now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3284092520801405728?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3284092520801405728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/subconscious.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3284092520801405728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3284092520801405728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/subconscious.html' title='Subconscious'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-1185251692036194654</id><published>2010-09-27T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T16:39:00.324-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep well &amp; carry a good snack</title><content type='html'>My first day back to school. Four straight hours of anatomy &amp; physiology at lightening speed. This program condenses four years of information into three years of class time, so you have to keep up or drown. I had four chapters of text reading due before I even walked in the door then the four hours of lecture covering items topical to the reading, but not covered in the books.&lt;br /&gt;My homework has taken me two hours thus far, and I'm about halfway done, breaking just to write this post.&lt;br /&gt;I am fortunate in that I have experience with intensive study - it's how my studies in Asia were. I also have experience with the human bodies response to stress and knew in advance how to prepare.&lt;br /&gt;I gave myself ample hours to sleep last night, but of course the heat woke me repeatedly. As a side note, my electric bill is going to end up being more than my rent. Ninety degrees outside at two am?! Are you kidding me?! I'm melting here in the desert!&lt;br /&gt;Anyway...&lt;br /&gt;Knowing I would not get enough rest, I made sure I had the right fuel. I woke early enough to stretch, to clear my head and focus, and I packed the right snacks.&lt;br /&gt;Working with your metabolism is one of the easiest ways to maintain focus &amp; stamina.&lt;br /&gt;At my first break, I enjoyed a couple handfuls of blueberries. At second break, a banana. And at third break, although I hate "fake" sugars for many reasons, I had a special k bar to give me a kick for the last hour.&lt;br /&gt;I also made sure to keep myself hydrated throughout, and to move around during the breaks.&lt;br /&gt;It is amazing how easily the mind is able to function when it is operating within a happy body.&lt;br /&gt;I had no trouble being fully present for the entire class, but witnessed several classmates lose focus and become pained as the hours drug on.&lt;br /&gt;As a former preschool teacher I looked around the room and thought it sad that these adults seem to have forgotten the power of having the right snack. Ask any three year old and they'll tell you that a good snack can be the highlight of your day - and highly affect your mood and approach to the tasks of that day.&lt;br /&gt;So, I encourage everyone to take a moment to pack yourself a good snack for the day, and take a moment to remember the joy snack time can bring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-1185251692036194654?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/1185251692036194654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/sleep-well-carry-good-snack.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1185251692036194654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1185251692036194654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/sleep-well-carry-good-snack.html' title='Sleep well &amp;amp; carry a good snack'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-223809792872489977</id><published>2010-09-23T20:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-23T20:37:01.138-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blame it on the equinox</title><content type='html'>I woke this morning at six am, and spent the day with unsettled energy. It's more than moon energy, I feel the strong winds of change blowing forth.&lt;br /&gt;As I type this I am outside under the full moon - all the more powerful as it occurs during autumn equinox. All of nature pilling together to balance...something I seek each moment deep within my soul.&lt;br /&gt;I spoke with someone close to me earlier today about the adventures and unfortunate surprises that occurred during the previous twelve months.&lt;br /&gt;I have no way of knowing if balance will be found with this new season, but I can say I am more equipped to create balance than ever before, and the lessons learned that brought me here will not fade away in vain.&lt;br /&gt;I hope you are able to reflect, during this time of powerful cosmic energy, on the lessons life has brought thus far, and the wonderful insights on life that are yet to come.&lt;br /&gt;Fall has always been my favorite season, and I am optimistic that this will be a season to remember with joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-223809792872489977?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/223809792872489977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/blame-it-on-equinox.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/223809792872489977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/223809792872489977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/blame-it-on-equinox.html' title='Blame it on the equinox'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-4504703305538329497</id><published>2010-09-21T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T08:34:00.600-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's not urgent, but...well...it's urgent</title><content type='html'>I had orientation at my school of oriental medicine yesterday. It has been nearly ten years since my last degree - a degree I was able to complete without so much as an email address. Now I will have my tiny laptop &amp; wireless internet in each classroom every day.&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad to be going now. As the old saying goes: "youth is wasted on the young", &lt;br /&gt;Life experience teaches us that what we choose to study in college as teens is not likely to be our career for a lifetime. It really takes years of living in the "real world" to know who you are and how you wish to succeed.&lt;br /&gt;My life, especially, is not one of stagnation. My friend Fred may have said it best during our last visit..."misty, you really take advantage of your mobility" what do you mean? I had replied. "it's  impressive that you not let what are ultimately imaginary confinements contain you" he said.&lt;br /&gt;Knowing that fact though, that I am open to what the universe brings my way, I am uncomfortable making forever or always statements (except interpersonally). Will I always live here in the desert? Highly unlikely. Do I know where I will live three years from today? Also highly unlikely.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps this is why my heart skipped a beat yesterday when our director of education said "if you plan to ever live in California, Texas, or New Mexico, come talk to me right away about your transfer options to a school that fits their requirements".&lt;br /&gt;A fellow student raised his hand and said "you make that decision sound urgent". To which she responded "it's not urgent, but....well...it's urgent".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heck.&lt;br /&gt;I just got here. I'm TIRED of moving and had wanted to sit still for a while.&lt;br /&gt;But, what if I do decide to head back to SF one day? What if I want to live with mystics in New Mexico when I'm sixty? What if I decide I want to be a cowgirl or country singer in some small town in Texas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heck!  I cannot know those answers today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I made an appointment with her for a week from now.&lt;br /&gt;I can only hope that within six days I can discern each and every state I may or may not live in until I die.&lt;br /&gt;Not the kind of homework I had imagined for my first day of school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-4504703305538329497?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/4504703305538329497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-not-urgent-butwellit-urgent.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4504703305538329497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4504703305538329497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/it-not-urgent-butwellit-urgent.html' title='It&amp;#39;s not urgent, but...well...it&amp;#39;s urgent'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-5705790109354609062</id><published>2010-09-16T08:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T08:14:55.321-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I liked you better when I thought you were a serial killer</title><content type='html'>A few weeks ago a new character appeared in the story of my life. A mysterious character whose approach to life seems terribly complicated, and his living of it shrouded in secrets.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although many would have shied away, not me, not with this particular person. I am comfortable with building trust, allowing the&amp;nbsp;secrets to surface&amp;nbsp;in due time, and what's the worst that could come of this anyway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mentioned the new character to some friends over dinner a couple of weeks ago. It makes for fascinating conversation. The first question of course is if I truly know nothing about this person, aren't you afraid of what you will come to know? Why would I take on the risks?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, one could argue that everything in life is a risk. There is no true "safety" - anyone, anything, can be pulled out from underneath you at anytime. I go on instinct I told them. I feel him and that's what I do...I'm a psychologist, I'm a yogi, I'm an observer of life, and I can know him without knowing him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides, I said, what's the worst that he could turn out to be? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took what little information we had, and began a bit of a parlour game...throwing out options and explanations, and then tearing those apart at the seams. There was one we kept coming back to, one that could possibly fit our worst case scenario: serial killer. No many how we tried to break that option apart, it still could possibly hold water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So," James said, wrapping it up, "he's a serial killer, are you okay with that?" I thought for a moment and decided, yeah, I'm okay with that risk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I've watched too much Dexter&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days ago the new character told me several things he felt I should know. Each statement felt worst than the last, my heart breaking a bit with each word. It's&amp;nbsp;disconcerting that his actual truth was worse than my worst case scenario, was something&amp;nbsp;our parlour game&amp;nbsp;had not even considered. &lt;br /&gt;I have spent the days since that conversation thinking to myself... I liked&amp;nbsp;you so much better when&amp;nbsp;you were&amp;nbsp;a serial killer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-5705790109354609062?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/5705790109354609062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-liked-you-better-when-i-thought-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5705790109354609062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5705790109354609062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/i-liked-you-better-when-i-thought-you.html' title='I liked you better when I thought you were a serial killer'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2787634027747602402</id><published>2010-09-16T07:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T07:54:46.386-07:00</updated><title type='text'>moving on</title><content type='html'>My things have arrived here in the desert. Mishaps along the way, and unpacking will not occur for another week or so, but my things are here. I have a bed to sleep upon, and at the end of the day that is what matters most I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend of mine, who has also undergone two major moves in 2010, told me over the phone... "that second one nearly caused me to have&amp;nbsp;a nervous breakdown". I understand. I empathize. I'm holding it together and remembering&amp;nbsp;to take care of myself&amp;nbsp;while I adjust to the newness of it all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2787634027747602402?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2787634027747602402/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/moving-on.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2787634027747602402'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2787634027747602402'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/moving-on.html' title='moving on'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-9105950454378398911</id><published>2010-09-11T21:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T21:26:00.825-07:00</updated><title type='text'>sitting it out</title><content type='html'>Wisdom is a funny thing. Often if you think yourself wise, the universe finds ways to prove you otherwise. This can lead me to second guessing choices.&lt;br /&gt;But, there are times that maturity and experience force you to recognize a "wolf in sheep's clothing" if you will. In those moments, do you lead with your head or with your heart? &lt;br /&gt;Do you approach with the optimism and faith that you want to carry within always or do you not take a chance based on "knowledge"?&lt;br /&gt;This dilemma has haunted me a bit lately. I have been invited to engage in a situation that even if I choose to play, I know that I more than likely will not win. Is my heart strong enough to take the risk? Even if it is, isn't my head's job to protect it?&lt;br /&gt;I refuse to live a life led by fear, but is this a circumstance where fear is entwined with wisdom?&lt;br /&gt;Often the head is far more easily manipulated than the heart. You can analyze nearly anything to face your point of view, but the heart is not that way. It knows what it knows, simple and true.&lt;br /&gt;Wisdom often comes from the heart, and not the head. And in this moment, my heart knows that my head is right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-9105950454378398911?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/9105950454378398911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/sitting-it-out.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9105950454378398911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9105950454378398911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/sitting-it-out.html' title='sitting it out'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-5285264923171738210</id><published>2010-09-08T17:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T17:42:35.757-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Flying under the moon</title><content type='html'>I'm at the airport...tired, hungry...but things are packed and on their way to the next chapter of my life. I too will be on my way shortly.&lt;br /&gt;As fate would have it, I'll be flying under the new moon tonight. As I've mentioned before, the new moon is a time to invite things into your life. I'm ready to fully extend those invitations and be open to what the universe will bring.&lt;br /&gt;I am so grateful to be as close as humanly possible to the moon and all it's energy tonight. Although exhausted from the packing up, i wanted to take a moment, to fully be in this moment, as i fly off to my next adventure. My heart &amp; head are open to the great things that will come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-5285264923171738210?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/5285264923171738210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/flying-under-moon.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5285264923171738210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5285264923171738210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/flying-under-moon.html' title='Flying under the moon'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6592527982311163860</id><published>2010-09-07T10:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-07T10:37:02.172-07:00</updated><title type='text'>no, you're weird</title><content type='html'>I was walking through the Haight&amp;nbsp;yesterday with my sister and her friend and I saw a sign that said "no, you're weird"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so struck by it that I made them stop and photograph me standing next to it. That phrase epitomizes how I feel San Franciscans see the rest of the world. The people who live here may be unorthodox, may be eccentric, but they are who they are; and some could argue that those who live within the confines of conformity are the weird ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Living in San Francisco, even for less than a year, has changed me. Once again my understanding of people and life has broadened.&amp;nbsp;I struggled when I first arrived. I felt I would never "get it" until one day I woke up and just did it - there is nothing to "get". Life in SF is just as user friendly as the iphone that was invented here - it just becomes what you need it to be, following your lead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am leaving here more sure of who I am than I ever have been, and no longer apologetic for it. The culture of this city does not allow you to define yourself by what you do, so you have to dig deep, and present who you are. When I leave the safety of this city where anything goes, I am well aware that I will be considered weird in my next community. Perhaps more so than ever before, because I am now confident and comfortable with that. I am not trying to make a statement or stand out, I'm just trying to BE in the way that is right for me. I am working on not being guilty for the mistakes I made, or choices that were far from "the norm",&amp;nbsp;and instead being empowered by knowing what it is that makes me truly happy - the moments that I am most myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am me when I am the only white woman waiting in a dirt lot, sitting atop my luggage in India, waiting for the airport to open. I am me when I am wasted and wiped out in Narita, not sure if it is day or night, not sure if I'm awake or dreaming. I am me when I am being tough with some six your old kid in Cambodia who is trying to swindle me out of an extra couple dollars for a trinket. I am me when I am practically naked and being "healed" in front of a small crowd of locals in Indonesia. I am me when&amp;nbsp;strangers hand me bare bottomed babies in China...and I am me when I sit humbly at the feet of&amp;nbsp;the amazing&amp;nbsp;people and teachers&amp;nbsp;from around the globe and admit that I know what I know, but I don't know everything, and I have an open heart to learn - and learn - and forget, and learn - and not understand, and learn - and have my heart broken,and have my spirit lifted, and learn - and learn, and learn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mine is a road less traveled, and society is often afraid of that which does not fit their idea of "normal". Most of us carry something about ourselves that doesn't fit the norm in some way&amp;nbsp;though. I have learned many things through living my life, and through writing this blog, and one is that there are others who are frequently called out by what others consider "normal" and carry their own crosses as well - and do so with a grace I have not yet attained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My time here in San Francisco has also opened another insight for me - a deeper relationship with my sister.&amp;nbsp;She and I have traveled down a very windy road, and we are&amp;nbsp;getting darn close&amp;nbsp;to having more happy memories together than sad, and I am so grateful that we have shared San Francisco.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She and I&amp;nbsp;could not have chosen more different paths in life, but the most amazing thing about that is the fact we have not judged the other's choices. I'm still surprised by that. Surprised,and grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are different in so many ways. If someone were to hand her a free trip to a third world country, her response would be "yeah, no thanks". Hawaii is about as far as she's interested in traveling. She is also tough as nails as I've mentioned in several posts. She could give some army seals a run for their money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed something this last weekend though, a character trait we do share, and it is probably&amp;nbsp;one of our deepest bonds&amp;nbsp;- we don't flinch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Walking around San Francisco, you see a lot. I cannot even begin to try to describe all there is to see, it's just a lot. Others around us may comment on this person or that person, but in all honesty, she and I barely notice them unless they are in our way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A person may be wearing a turban or a tutu, and it makes no difference to her as long as they are competent at their chosen field. I do believe her only prejudice may be incompetence. When it comes to stupid or lazy, her intolerance runs deep. When it comes to skin color, heritage, or sexual orientation, all are welcome as long as they can make good conversation, and pull their own weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this, we can connect. It is her open heart, her ability to see people with an open mind, that allows us to be sisters for the first time in our lives. She apologizes for me even less than I apologize for myself. She actually probably saw me before I even saw myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;San Francisco has offered us the chance for me to find me together, and that has been a blessing. I get the feeling that for the last three years she has been waiting for me to find me. Many have been waiting for me to find me. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My time here has beat me down to within an inch of my life, and then it forced me to pick myself up and make choices from a core level. I would never again want to live through the struggles I have encountered, but if nothing else, I now know with certainty what I can live through and what I cannot, what I will tolerate and what I will not.&amp;nbsp;I have a much stronger sense of who I am and who I wish to be as I move forward. It is sad to be moving, but the universe has shifted in such a way that it is time. I lost a great deal here, and I gained things too. And, now, it is time to pack those experiences up and travel a new path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend put the following quote on his facebook page the other day, and it resonates with me and&amp;nbsp;with this post: &lt;br /&gt;"My barn having burned to the ground, I can now see the moon"—&amp;nbsp;Mizuta Masahide&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6592527982311163860?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6592527982311163860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/no-youre-weird.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6592527982311163860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6592527982311163860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/no-youre-weird.html' title='no, you&apos;re weird'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-4384390724055240059</id><published>2010-09-04T07:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-04T07:15:00.946-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends of friends</title><content type='html'>I remember a moment in my life over a decade ago when I headed off to a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Not the first time I had ventured off completely on my own, and as time would tell, certainly not my last.&lt;br /&gt;I was not completely alone though...I had friends who I knew had family there, and the first thing I did was pick up the phone...I need a job, I need a place to live...within hours, both were done and I was able to roll into town with new friends there to ease my transition.&lt;br /&gt;That was my first experience with the power of friends if friends, but, like the move, certainly not the last.&lt;br /&gt;A persons integrity is really all they've got in this world, and nothing speaks stronger to that than when someone connects you to a friend of theirs. They are saying you are great, they are great, lets share the love.&lt;br /&gt;Referring one friend to another is a deeper recommendation than one offers for a job or school. It means you trust deeply enough that this will add to your existing friendships in a positive way. I am honored when connected to friends of friends. I know I can trust them, and they will love me because my friend does.&lt;br /&gt;My friends here in San Francisco were technically not my friends at all...they were friends of friends, who through the relationships we have fostered over the years, chose to expand the circle and add one more. I am so grateful they did. It is also fitting that my last weekend in town I am introduced to another great person - a friend of a friend - and so the circle of love widens again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-4384390724055240059?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/4384390724055240059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/friends-of-friends.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4384390724055240059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4384390724055240059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/friends-of-friends.html' title='Friends of friends'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-8471050846719491462</id><published>2010-09-03T17:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-03T17:08:42.367-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking miles in my shoes</title><content type='html'>I first landed in San Francisco with a couple of pairs of heels &amp; the flip flops I had worn on the plane.&lt;br /&gt;I figured I'd be fine for a few days walking around to find an apartment. I'd walked miles in those shoes in dc. So, the first day I set out in those shoes. The second day I got up and walked straight to the shoe store and bought a pair of sneakers.&lt;br /&gt;San Francisco is by far the most walkable city I've ever visited. The weather is ideal, there is something interesting at every step, and the sidewalks are always full of fellow walkers.&lt;br /&gt;The terrain takes a bit of getting used to though. You wouldn't believe me if I tried to explain the incline of these hills - you really have to walk them firsthand to get it.&lt;br /&gt;Walk them I have. I realized while walking today that I have put hundreds of miles on these sneakers. Possibly even a thousand? I have walked in every neighborhood of this city, and loved every moment of it.&lt;br /&gt;My yearning to be outside walking here quite literally kept me alive my first few months here. The ability to walk (and not drive) is the most important thing for me when selecting a home...location location location. I know my spirit would shrivel up if it couldn't feel the breeze, the energy of the environment.&lt;br /&gt;I'm curious to see how my walking plays out in my new city. I know most Americans would prefer to drive, and my new neighbors may find me odd, but that's okay. There is nowhere I would rather be than walking in my shoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-8471050846719491462?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/8471050846719491462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/walking-miles-in-my-shoes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8471050846719491462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8471050846719491462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/walking-miles-in-my-shoes.html' title='Walking miles in my shoes'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3969452545413529709</id><published>2010-09-01T12:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-07T10:08:10.083-07:00</updated><title type='text'>leaving my heart</title><content type='html'>I have been remiss in posting lately, my apologies. The moving process is grueling for me. I'm terrible at it...so easily distracted...yearning to be out in the beautiful weather, walking around this amazing city, instead of boxing up my belongings once again.&lt;br /&gt;Especially difficult for me is the fact I have to leave some things behind. I mentioned the books last week, and this week it is furniture that just will not fit in my next dwelling.&lt;br /&gt;I am frequently misunderstood for my strong stance in choosing to not have children. It is days like today, while I shed tears over a sofa,&amp;nbsp;that I know with certainty that I have made the right choice. I just don't have the strength for it, the responsibility would destroy me.&lt;br /&gt;When I choose to allow something (or someone) to come into my life, to live alongside me, I feel such a strong sense of responsibility... responsible for their happiness and comfort... that at times I lose a sense of myself in that process. My loyalty and commitment runs very deep. I can be too sensitive to other's happiness, at times to my own detriment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the items that will not fit once I am in Tucson is my red velvet sofa. Oh, how I loved it from first sight - it's deep wine color, it's sultry fabric, it's sexy angles. I knew it belonged with me, that I should put on silk pajamas and sip red wine by the gallon on it. I have owned it and loved it for years...but I knew that with this move I would have to let it go.&lt;br /&gt;I placed an ad on craigslist, practically giving it away. I didn't want money for it you see, I wanted it to go to a good home. No amount of money was going to make me feel good about no longer having it around.&amp;nbsp;I wanted it to be loved in the way I felt it deserved.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;Many emails came in, lots of people interested, and for the first few days I found myself screening applicants...telling some that just didn't seem to be the right fit that the sofa had sold or was no longer for sale. I could not let just anybody haul away this item I love.&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday I woke up and realized that I was being too attached. I knew the sofa had to go, and if I didn't let someone take it, it would end up being hauled off to a recycling center next week. So, I got on the computer and decided to go ahead and let Lupe, the most recent prospect, come pick it up. As I went to do this, I had another email come in, from napa valley. Ah, napa&amp;nbsp;valley.&amp;nbsp;A man who had a small vineyard was interested in my red velvet sofa.&lt;br /&gt;Yes! I knew that if there was anywhere in the world this sofa should have to live without me, it should be on a vineyard in napa valley. &lt;br /&gt;This morning he came to pick it up, and thank goodness I am in "flaky" san francisco,&amp;nbsp;where everyone has their own bit of crazy, so&amp;nbsp;he did not find my questions odd. Everyone here is eccentric, yes, that includes me. ;-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I needed to know where it would go:...current plan was dimly lit corner of his personal home...upon seeing the piece, he is also considering a nice&amp;nbsp;place&amp;nbsp;in the tasting area of the vineyard.&lt;br /&gt;I needed to know if people would drink wine (preferably red)&amp;nbsp;while seated upon it:...of course.&lt;br /&gt;I needed to know most of all, did he love it - truly love it. If you don't, I told him, please please&amp;nbsp;don't take it...he does. he loves it.&lt;br /&gt;He gave me&amp;nbsp;his card and promises of photos to be sent once my sofa has settled into its new home. The vineyard is small, only about 2500 bottles a year, so I cannot purchase the wine outside of this area, but I was also promised that he will ship some to me in&amp;nbsp;the desert&amp;nbsp;this winter (when the weather is cool enough for it to travel).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I was strong as we loaded it into the truck, but the tears welled up once it started driving away, and I find them coming back again as I type this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought about a conversation I had had with my friend James a couple of weeks ago when I told him I had to move from San Francisco. "Leaving doesn't mean you won't come back" he said..."You know I've heard some people leave their heart here" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, that's me, leaving a bit of my heart...and most of my books...and my red velvet sofa.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3969452545413529709?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3969452545413529709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/leaving-my-heart.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3969452545413529709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3969452545413529709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/09/leaving-my-heart.html' title='leaving my heart'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6166465172783417548</id><published>2010-08-25T19:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T19:54:17.790-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's getting hot in here...</title><content type='html'>I'm packing up, as you know. What you may not know is that I'm packing up during a heat wave around 90 degrees. Should be easy to take for a girl who plans to move to the desert right?&lt;br /&gt;Wrong.&lt;br /&gt;Ninety degrees in San Francisco is like no other. This is a city famous for 70 degrees. A city I love for the fact I had to wear a sweatshirt &amp; scarf on 4th of July (&amp; still yearn for gloves &amp; a shot of whiskey). A city where no one has air conditioning, and there really is no need... this is perfect weather paradise after all - our inland version of Hawaii if you will.&lt;br /&gt;This weather is a fantastic in its own right though, if I'm fully honest. We are loving the "inconveniences" of it all. Yesterday I made an appointment with my apartment manager for a walk through today. "how much notice do you need?" she asked. "enough to put clothes on" I replied. We both laughed, knowing that without forced cool air we are left to barely dressing to keep ourselves cool.&lt;br /&gt;Stepping out for a few blocks of fresh air today I went into the bank. Again, no air conditioning. Everyone inside literally wiped the sweat from our brows as transactions occurred. Midway through mine, the entire street lost power.&lt;br /&gt;Funny stuff considering no one was even running ac, and most of us didn't even turn on lights during the day - too many fans I guess.&lt;br /&gt;I was told of other bank locations within a one mile radius and sent on my way.&lt;br /&gt;Oddly enough, I didn't mind. It was invigorating actually - reminded me of that time a few months ago when I blogged about being sent outside to wait in the dirt in India because their airport wasn't finished.&lt;br /&gt;I realized once again that what I love about life is these strange circumstances that are forced upon us - watching a day in a life I had never intended to live. The record breaking heat may keep me from sleeping, may make packing, going to the bank (or just getting dressed) harder, but it also makes life just a bit silly and unexpected...just enough to keep us on our toes, and remind us why we love the surprises of living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6166465172783417548?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6166465172783417548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/it-getting-hot-in-here.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6166465172783417548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6166465172783417548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/it-getting-hot-in-here.html' title='It&amp;#39;s getting hot in here...'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6295622976390315616</id><published>2010-08-25T17:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-25T18:42:57.423-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking the train</title><content type='html'>Interior design shows tell you to pick one piece then design the room around it.&lt;br /&gt;The same seems to ring true for how I plan travel...pick one place then build the trip around it. Sometimes I end up choosing the most clunky, awkward piece, and the building around it is full of square pegs &amp;amp; round holes. I hate to admit it, but I've done that again...and god only knows the comedy of errors that will ensue. (India 2009 anyone?)&lt;br /&gt;It should come as no surprise that Zach is helping me design this one. &lt;br /&gt;While in dc last week I get him all liquored up and decide to join him on a work trip to hong kong this fall. Problem is, both of us have "done" hong kong &amp;amp; I stated that there is no way I'm going to Asia without knocking out a country I have not yet seen. "it will be so simple" I tell him. We hop a flight to a nearby island. I check my world map on my iPhone..."look - taiwan is RIGHT THERE - we could practically swim over". &lt;br /&gt;After much debate over my sense of scale looking at a two inch screen that encompasses half the world he asks "what is there to see in taiwan?". &lt;br /&gt;"tons of stuff - good Asian stuff" I reply - "just google it". (other than cheap trinkets in the 80s I have no idea what Taiwan is all about - I'm sure he knew that, but god bless him, he googles away).&lt;br /&gt;"there's this high speed train that takes you all over the island" he says.&lt;br /&gt;"fantastic!" I reply &amp;amp; fill up his wine glass. I start selling how we simply MUST take that train. Life will just not be worth living if we haven't taken the high speed Taiwan train!&lt;br /&gt;"okay" (he gives in - yea misty &amp;amp; her powers of persuasion - that train will change our lives!)&lt;br /&gt;So, now it's decided. come hell or high water, we are going to taiwan to take the train. I have so few moments of complete decisiveness in my life.&amp;nbsp;I relish moments like that.&lt;br /&gt;Well, the waters began to rise, and hell is yet to come...getting a ticket from the western US to hong kong then to taiwan then back to our respective homes proved impossible after hours of searching. Taking the hgk to tpe part out (we'll grab some Asian airline over there) didn't help matters. Again and again united &amp;amp; usairways shut us down. fine. We go with one of those online booking sites that put us in coach. No problem! We will just call up our super frequent traveler hotlines &amp;amp; get upgraded. After all, we are airline super heros!&lt;br /&gt;Oops.&lt;br /&gt;There are no upgraded seats available - not even in business class. Sold out.&lt;br /&gt;To give you some perspective on how devastating this is, the flight from San Francisco to hong kong alone is 15 hours. Fifteen hours in a seat about six inches wide that reclines three inches max. Fifteen hours without drinks on demand. Fifteen hours having smelly, fat, obnoxious people draped on either side of you. FIFTEEN HOURS. &lt;br /&gt;I won't fly five hours in coach - not even if someone died and it was the only way to get to the funeral. I have personal space issues. I have control issues...let's just face it, I have issues.&lt;br /&gt;But, we are trapped. I need to take that train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6295622976390315616?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6295622976390315616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/taking-train.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6295622976390315616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6295622976390315616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/taking-train.html' title='Taking the train'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6830660269462102866</id><published>2010-08-24T12:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T12:04:57.105-07:00</updated><title type='text'>purging</title><content type='html'>Want to learn the hard way what you really need to have in your home? Move, then move, then move again all within a period of eight months. When you hit that third move, it becomes easier to let go.&lt;br /&gt;That is what I am doing today, packing and purging. Although I have two weeks until the move, I picked this week, to box up and throw out as much as possible. Tonight is the full moon, the time to let go and release the excess from your life. (I wrote a post about the full moon last month if you want more on that topic).&lt;br /&gt;The energy of the full moon will help make the "losses" easier to bear, and if you are a frequent reader of my blog, you know that letting go of things tied to memories is incredibly difficult for me. The big task today was books. Even after two moves worth of purging, I still arived here with nearly fifteen boxes of books. I made a deal with myself that I will leave San Francisco with five. Each book of course holds memories - how I felt when I read it, where I was when I read it - there seems to be an old plane ticket or note or scrawled emotions in the margins of each item. Those are the hardest to let go of..."I was reading this on the beach of St. Lucia on Valentine's Day...I picked this up in an airport in Paris". But, as my sister has taught me, the memory lives beyond the item; so I was strong in my dumping books into the recycle bin. I actually had her uber anti clutter voice in my head all morning. I would come across a book I had not yet read and I could hear her saying "well, you have two weeks, read up, because it is NOT going to move with you". (Have I mentioned how &lt;em&gt;mean&lt;/em&gt; she is?) ;-)&lt;br /&gt;What I had not planned on was 90 degree heat in San Francisco as I kept carting boxes of books outside to be recycled. It is not any cooler inside since I do not have air conditioning. But, as I have spent the last few hours tackling the books, I realized it is making me stronger, physically and emotionally, to endure this day. And that, of course is what the phase of the full moon is all about - to purge the unnecessary, to release the things that stunt your growth, and to become strong in your knowledge of what truly matters in your life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6830660269462102866?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6830660269462102866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/purging.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6830660269462102866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6830660269462102866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/purging.html' title='purging'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-8191342246553711294</id><published>2010-08-23T13:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-23T13:14:16.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>simply, stop.</title><content type='html'>I am back in San Francisco, boxes just delivered for my pending move. I had the most wonderful trip to DC. Only having three days made it super tight, and I barely slept at all, and still missed seeing a couple of people I had really hoped to see. Nonetheless, as I mentioned, it was a wonderful trip for my soul.&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure a few blog entries will come from inspirations I had back east.&lt;br /&gt;At my first doctor's appointment Thursday I found myself reviewing the last few months of treatment...the infections, the pain, the drainings, the pain, the internal bleeding, the pain,&amp;nbsp;the scar tissue, the pain, the nerve damage, the pain, the assortment of drugs for the pain...etc. There's a lot to go over with curious physicians when you have become a medical anomaly.&lt;br /&gt;The greatest moment came when after much discussion about possibilities moving forward (continuing the current course, additional surgery, etc.) the doctor asked me the most important question: "what do &lt;u&gt;you&lt;/u&gt; want to do?"&lt;br /&gt;"I want to stop" I said.&lt;br /&gt;"Which part?" he asked.&lt;br /&gt;"All of it. I want to stop all of it".&lt;br /&gt;I explained to him that at this point I no longer believe western medicine is helping. I actually believe it is hurting, and has been making things worse for weeks. I talked with him about how I want to leave San Francisco, and move to the desert and study acupuncture and allow my body to heal itself for a while. If there is currently&amp;nbsp;no infection left within my body that will kill me, I would rather let the rest of the healing be done without the drugs, without the draining. I want to engage in a simple life for a while and reconnect with myself, rely on myself and eastern&amp;nbsp;philosophy&amp;nbsp;to pull me through. I want my spirit back.&lt;br /&gt;"yes" he said "that is what you should do".&lt;br /&gt;There it was, my moment of empowerment. I needed permission from someone I respected, and I got it.&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the day was filled with more doctors, more exams and tests, my arms bruising from all the blood drawn. But I knew once the day was through, once I had been tested for everything from syphilis to swine flu, that I can take it from here.&lt;br /&gt;As I box up my life again,&amp;nbsp;moving on&amp;nbsp;with a new set of circumstances -&amp;nbsp;mental, emotional, and especially physical - I feel better than I have in such a long time.&amp;nbsp;I have chosen to simply, stop; and with that I will move forward&amp;nbsp;more freely than I ever have before.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-8191342246553711294?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/8191342246553711294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/simply-stop.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8191342246553711294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8191342246553711294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/simply-stop.html' title='simply, stop.'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-4551573638927272666</id><published>2010-08-18T04:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-18T04:32:44.859-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mixed emotions</title><content type='html'>I'm making a quick trip back to dc - doctor visits mostly, the last thing I want, more poking &amp; prodding &amp; looks of astonishment, but it's what I need. I am carrying enough narcotics to please a Colombian drug lord, so I should be able to endure a day of flight.&lt;br /&gt;What I need most though is reconnection with the most important people in my life. San Francisco did not happen as I had planned, but, it happened, and now, nearly six months later, I prepare for another move. What I have learned is that my life is not to be here, not now.&lt;br /&gt;It is painful to learn, to grow, to change. I am only able to get through it by leaning, by returning to my roots, to those who know me better than I know myself. It's not easy to let go &amp; lean, hence my mixed emotions. Pride is a double edged sword. &lt;br /&gt;But, if there is anything to be proud of in my life, it is the connections I will share over the next couple of days.&lt;br /&gt;At the end of it all i suppose that is where true success is measured, in the hearts of those you love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-4551573638927272666?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/4551573638927272666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/mixed-emotions.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4551573638927272666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4551573638927272666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/mixed-emotions.html' title='Mixed emotions'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2669156649385801374</id><published>2010-08-16T18:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T18:12:39.891-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where I end &amp; the world begins</title><content type='html'>It has been a strange evening, one in which I feel the universe tilting once again, pointing me in the right direction.&lt;br /&gt;I received an unexpected email earlier, followed by an unexpected phone call.&lt;br /&gt;The email set me free on my longterm path; the phone call set me free today. The caller made a statement that has echoed within my mind: "I have learned where my life ends and the world begins - and I am okay with that".&lt;br /&gt;Knowing what we can control, and what we cannot, is one of the most valuable tidbits in life. It is being okay once you have done all you can that matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2669156649385801374?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2669156649385801374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/where-i-end-world-begins.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2669156649385801374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2669156649385801374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/where-i-end-world-begins.html' title='Where I end &amp;amp; the world begins'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-1771293996573457368</id><published>2010-08-16T06:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-16T06:18:00.640-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yoga in espanol</title><content type='html'>I went to mass in Notre Dame cathedral in Paris on my 30th birthday. It was something I loved when I was catholic - the fact that mass is universal - it does not matter the language you speak, the language of the mass is universal. I had no trouble following along, knowing in my heart where my physical or verbal participation took place. it was incredibly moving to hear the same prayer in several languages being recited simultaneously among the congregation.&lt;br /&gt;Yoga is also a universal language. I have studied with many people for whom English is a third, fourth or fifth language (if English is spoken at all). No matter the spoken word, I was still able to follow in the spirit, and I love that yoga, like love itself, crosses any language barrier.&lt;br /&gt;A couple of months ago, early in the morning, I came across a televised yoga class in spanish on public television. I quickly connected with the gentle soul of the instructor &amp; was drawn to following the class. The entire thing is in Spanish, so I cannot follow audible cues, I must follow in spirit drawing from my knowledge of the yoga posture &amp; flow. it feels good to connect and understand through the soul instead of words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-1771293996573457368?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/1771293996573457368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/yoga-in-espanol.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1771293996573457368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1771293996573457368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/yoga-in-espanol.html' title='Yoga in espanol'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6430494609500408796</id><published>2010-08-15T19:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-15T19:45:45.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Kickstart my heart</title><content type='html'>I have been seeing an acupuncturist to open my liver (my energy balance is blocked there - happens when one is frustrated for an extended period of time).&lt;br /&gt;At my session on Friday I got something I had not bargained for. When we were through he asked how I felt and I found myself saying "I feel..." and that was it, I was feeling many things and I realized I couldn't put my finger on any one emotion.&lt;br /&gt;"yeah", he nodded with understanding "I also opened your heart".&lt;br /&gt;Damn it!&lt;br /&gt; That's the downside, I suppose, with messing around with your energy. You end up opening things you had intended to hold closed.&lt;br /&gt;Walking home from that session I reflected upon conversations I have had with yogis and healers who have been mentors. Be careful what you wish for each of them have warned; for once you commit to the path of truth, the path of self-awareness, things can come to the surface that you neither intended nor expected. Those things can lead you away from what you thought was your "intended" path and instead force you into the terrifying unknown.&lt;br /&gt;For a short while, until I foolishly, humanly, create new blocks in my energy; I have received a kickstart to open my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6430494609500408796?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6430494609500408796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/kickstart-my-heart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6430494609500408796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6430494609500408796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/kickstart-my-heart.html' title='Kickstart my heart'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2444759762402157786</id><published>2010-08-13T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-13T10:24:09.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'>out of context</title><content type='html'>Okay. It's about time that I throw something silly out there. Those of you who know me know that I seek the silly in everything, but it has been a while since I could find it, except for a brief moment on Tuesday.&lt;br /&gt;Let me explain, moving from the east coast to the west, I wake each morning to find a good three hours of online snippets of life via facebook from those who have already begun their day. It takes some time for me to catch up, and there are moments I am quite certain that I have come into the middle of something completely out of context.&lt;br /&gt;For example, Tuesday, the first post that appeared when I opened my facebook on my iphone was the following (and I &lt;u&gt;quote verbatim&lt;/u&gt;): "it is pussy and gross...good thing im fascinated by oozy red squishiness"&lt;br /&gt;I nearly choked on my red bull. The statement was from a friend who is married,&amp;nbsp;devoutly christian and frequently works with young adults. I was stunned that she would use the "p word" in such a public forum -&amp;nbsp;what on earth is she talking about? She is incredibly sweet, and as it turns out, was describing her husband's recent bout of poison ivy. She meant filled with puss, which I have learned from online dictionary is an acceptable way to use that word, pronouncing it differently than I had when I read it in my mind. Myself, if I needed to make such a statement would have worded it all differently, but it did catch my attention and bring a bit of silliness to an otherwise unsilly week.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2444759762402157786?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2444759762402157786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/out-of-context.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2444759762402157786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2444759762402157786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/out-of-context.html' title='out of context'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2930189519541006878</id><published>2010-08-13T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-13T10:03:12.967-07:00</updated><title type='text'>math problems</title><content type='html'>I have always been in awe of those who can do complicated math problems. I'm talking the several chalkboard algorithm kind of math problems. I fell in love with Matt Damon when he played a genius who could solve math problems in Good Will Hunting.&lt;br /&gt;I have come to realize though that nearly every day, we all are solving problems just as complicated, but they contain words and reality.&lt;br /&gt;For example, I have another move coming up, this means I must divide my time into completing school paperwork, making a trip back east to knock out a few things, pack everything up, find a new place to live, go through all the steps of getting out of SF, do some laundry, get acupuncture, etc. I have found myself grabbing lipstick and writing on bathroom mirrors the way these math geniuses in the movies do..."if I move this over here, and knock that out over there, and add this at the end instead of the beginning..." just maybe, I can solve the immediate problem.&lt;br /&gt;Of course, complicated&amp;nbsp;math that takes years to solve&amp;nbsp;is actually easier in some ways than life. Both have unknown variables, but with life, they are REALLY unknown variables, and they can&amp;nbsp;turn what seems like a nearly solved problem into a new problem all together. Math you can build on what you have thus far, sometimes in life, you have to the thus far goes right out the window. Each day we get up and are stars of our own math genius movies. We&amp;nbsp;seek new solutions - maybe to the same problems, maybe to the unknown variables that have come our way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2930189519541006878?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2930189519541006878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/math-problems.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2930189519541006878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2930189519541006878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/math-problems.html' title='math problems'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-1318889813744901040</id><published>2010-08-09T19:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-09T19:54:34.177-07:00</updated><title type='text'>8.9.10</title><content type='html'>Life is simply, complicated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I had the pleasure of meeting one of the most amazing women I will ever know. Unfortunately, due to the circumstances of my life, I don't know that our paths will cross again.&lt;br /&gt;If that turns out to be the case though, that is okay, because her energy, her wisdom, and her spirit arrived at a time in my life when I truly needed it most. My time with her will forevermore be a part of who I am - an inspiration for a happy life as I choose to live it.&lt;br /&gt;There are those of us who are ostracized, or misunderstood, but every now and again we encounter inspiration through those who are truly inspiring &amp; we know that there are others out there who "get it" and we can go on.&lt;br /&gt;It was by accident, or by fate, that I met this person on such an ominous day: 8.9.10, the day of a new moon, of new beginnings, of fresh hope. I am deeply grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-1318889813744901040?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/1318889813744901040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/8910.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1318889813744901040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1318889813744901040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/8910.html' title='8.9.10'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-8566738808528290893</id><published>2010-08-07T21:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-07T21:17:40.814-07:00</updated><title type='text'>heaven &amp; hell</title><content type='html'>A Zen story:&lt;br /&gt;Hakuin, the fiery and intensely dynamic Zen master, was once visited by a samurai warrior.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I want to know about heaven and hell,” said the samurai. “Do they really exist?” he asked Hakuin.&lt;br /&gt;Hakuin looked at the soldier and asked, “Who are you?”&lt;br /&gt;“I am a samurai,” announced the proud warrior.&lt;br /&gt;“Ha!” exclaimed Hakuin. “What makes you think you can understand such insightful things? You are merely a callous, brutish soldier! Go away and do not waste my time with your foolish questions,” Hakuin said, waving his hand to drive away the samurai.&lt;br /&gt;The enraged samurai couldn’t take Hakuin’s insults. &lt;br /&gt;He drew his sword, readied for the kill, when Hakuin calmly retorted, “This is hell.”&lt;br /&gt;The soldier was taken aback. His face softened. Humbled by the wisdom of Hakuin, he put away his sword and bowed before the Zen Master.&lt;br /&gt;“And this is heaven,” Hakuin stated, just as calmly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few days ago, I lay down my sword, hoping to let go of the fight and embrace the calm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of you may know that four months ago I had surgery, and it resulted in very severe complications that I am still grappling with today. I have mentioned it very rarely intentionally. Part of me hoped that if I never mentioned it, it wasn't real. Each and every day I have woken with the hope that today I will be "cured", that all of the pain will have gone away, and I tried to look away from my reality. I did not want this blog, as I do not want my life, to be about pain. My life, this blog, is a celebration of hope and humor that surrounds us all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Facing my reality though, I have realized that I cannot get through this alone. And, unfortunately, San Francisco is a place where I am, on many levels, alone. Someone close to me has invited me to move in&amp;nbsp;and help to carry the burden. This means that another major&amp;nbsp;relocation is in my future. Not an easy step for me, but a necessary one. I want my hope and I want my humor back, and I am no longer too proud to lean on another to get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would love to say that I've learned from this experience, but that would not be true. I know now only what I knew before, and that is what has carried me through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep reading, loyal friends and followers, hopefully the best is yet to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-8566738808528290893?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/8566738808528290893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/heaven-hell.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8566738808528290893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8566738808528290893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/heaven-hell.html' title='heaven &amp; hell'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-9106423483347014175</id><published>2010-08-05T13:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T13:13:30.903-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"i can't go on, i'll go on"</title><content type='html'>Those of you who believe my flair for words allowed me to come up with that quote, thank you, but it must be credited to Samuel Beckett, it was the last line in &lt;em&gt;The Unnamable&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;The complexity represented within the simplicity of the phrase has always resonated with me, especially the last four months. I knew my life would turn upside down when I moved to San Francisco, but I never imagined how strongly. There have been many days when I thought I could not go on, simply standing was excruxiating, but I dug deep and clinged to&amp;nbsp;any shred of strength I had, and&amp;nbsp;I went on.&lt;br /&gt;Now, slowly, gently, I'm feeling the breeze of the wind of change coming in. I've often discussed in this blog that change is the one certainty in life, and while sometimes it is scary, other times, such as now, it is a welcome blessing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-9106423483347014175?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/9106423483347014175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-cant-go-on-ill-go-on.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9106423483347014175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9106423483347014175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-cant-go-on-ill-go-on.html' title='&quot;i can&apos;t go on, i&apos;ll go on&quot;'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2243960641575759720</id><published>2010-08-03T09:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T09:50:12.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the contents of my purse</title><content type='html'>The first time my nephew came to stay with me he was three, and from the moment the trip began, I knew I'd love getting to know him. When his mom dropped him off she said "he packed his own bag - good luck with that". What ensued was a week's worth of new discoveries. He had picked up a few things from the kitchen, random items from his bathroom, various toys, mismatched clothes...there was always something new to find and consider how he thought he could not leave the house without it.&lt;br /&gt;I was visiting my sister this weekend and while digging through my purse pulled out some ghiradelli chocolate I wanted to give to her husband. She looked at me oddly and said "you are like that crazy aunt who pulls unwrapped lozenges from the bottom of her purse and tries to give them away". Oh come on, I thought to myself, I'm not that bad.&lt;br /&gt;But, later on I had to admit that I do pick up and carry around the most random of items. I am without an answer when someone asks why I have this or that object within my possession. Somehow, somewhere, I thought I would need it. Unfortunately, I have frequently left behind the items I truly need for my journey, but am still carrying a good five pounds of stuff.&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I am stopped by airport security and they ask if I have a weapon in my bag, I always answer "maybe", because in all honesty I rarely have any idea what I am actually carrying around. I love travel, but hate packing, and seem to do so like a three year old - throwing this or that in the bag, whatever catches my fancy in the moment, and just going with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2243960641575759720?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2243960641575759720/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/contents-of-my-purse.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2243960641575759720'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2243960641575759720'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/contents-of-my-purse.html' title='the contents of my purse'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3033473454458437015</id><published>2010-08-02T15:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T15:52:35.901-07:00</updated><title type='text'>YES!...Maybe...not yet</title><content type='html'>I once feared that I had peaked too early in life - "on The Hill" at seventeen and then a slow digression downhill from there. The last couple of years I have realized that that is not the case. I'm actually a late bloomer...very late some of you may feel...I am comfortable continuing to gestate and not show my full glory till my forties, or fifties, or whenever it is time to happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a man in my life. Hmm...that's vague, I have many men in my life... In this particular instance, I have a man in my life who has spanned time and location. We haven't spoken for quite some time, but that doesn't change the fact that he is a part of me. Fifteen years ago we thought for a moment "maybe" but then outside influence convinced us "no". Years later I thought "Yes!" but his world was turning upside down and he said "no". Years later he returns, shouting yes while I mumble conflicted maybes and after a few weeks, "no".&lt;br /&gt;No wasn't the right answer though. It so rarely is in my life. A better response is "not yet". My adventures are not even close to over, my love of living not even close to running dry; and one day, eventually, I will figure it all out enough to...well...to change I suppose, to feel settled, to feel quenched.?.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am wondering if San Francisco, a city I love, is a "not yet" in my life. I can easily imagine my finding comfort here in day to day living, but my time thus far has been met with such struggle that I have to wonder if this city will become like that man in my life...my true love to whom I simultaneously say "YES!...Maybe...not yet" and have to walk away from for a while in order to help myself clearly see who I am and how I wish to live within it's grasp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3033473454458437015?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3033473454458437015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/yesmaybenot-yet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3033473454458437015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3033473454458437015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/yesmaybenot-yet.html' title='YES!...Maybe...not yet'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-8543411314617959565</id><published>2010-08-01T09:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T09:34:02.572-07:00</updated><title type='text'>forgetting</title><content type='html'>This time last year I was knee deep in ashtanga yoga in the&amp;nbsp;equally painful&amp;nbsp;hot and humid&amp;nbsp;climate of Thailand at the height of summer. It was my first exposure to ashtanga, and a memory I will always be grateful for. Reflecting on my time there, I came across the retreat center's recent post of a quote:&lt;br /&gt;‎"Soon we will have officially dissolved this retreat, into the river of time. Some of us will forget about it completely within a half hour. And this is an important part of practice, to be able to forget it. Because when you forget it you are actually open to what is happening now, and you are not clinging to what happened and to what you didn't understand, to what you didn't get." - Richard Freeman, July 2010&lt;br /&gt;This quote is of course valid for yogis...there is so very much to learn within yoga that it is incredibly humbling to recognize how much you are continuing to learn, how there is no one who truly "knows it all" when it comes to yoga. You absorb what you can when you can, and let go of that you are not yet ready to know.&lt;br /&gt;It also fits with "regular" life though. Many of us cling to&amp;nbsp;regret - be it moments or the people we once knew/the people we once were. We try to make sense of circumstances or relationships that did not work out&amp;nbsp;instead of being open to the circumstances or relationships that are in front of us at this moment. It is important to release yourself of regret, of the clinging to what you have done wrong in the past, or what you&amp;nbsp;didn't understand,&amp;nbsp;and instead leave that area of the mind and heart open and blissfully unaware of the knowledge that is to come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-8543411314617959565?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/8543411314617959565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/regret.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8543411314617959565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8543411314617959565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/08/regret.html' title='forgetting'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-9204221267152121487</id><published>2010-07-31T10:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-31T10:22:14.581-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The power of place</title><content type='html'>"the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While much can be done to control our "interior environment", the way we think about and approach our lives, a substantial amount of influence comes from our exterior environment - where we choose to live our lives.&lt;br /&gt;I love the weather of San Francisco. I have found the mild temperatures to be calming and soothing. Not having extreme weather has allowed me to not have extreme physiological responses, and inevitably be more centered.&lt;br /&gt;With the global economy and the ease with which a person can now relocate, it allows us to consider which exterior environment is best for our health. It doesn't require a cross country move if that's too much for you...it can be as simple as really looking inside of yourself and determining if you are a country mouse or a city mouse (or that in between creature I least understand - the suburbs mouse).&lt;br /&gt;The place you choose to live your life is perhaps the most important decision - it will determine what you do (career &amp; downtime equally), how you do it, who you'll meet &amp; who you'll know, cultural influences...the place where you live sets the tone for your life. It is your background music as you live, so be sure to select a song you'll love to hear each day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-9204221267152121487?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/9204221267152121487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/power-of-place.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9204221267152121487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9204221267152121487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/power-of-place.html' title='The power of place'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-8177675356611836863</id><published>2010-07-28T10:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T13:02:53.145-07:00</updated><title type='text'>wants vs needs</title><content type='html'>It is no secret that I love to travel. It is my deepest passion and there is nothing and no one that I love more than crossing an ocean to an exotic destination.&lt;br /&gt;What may surprise you is that I hate to shop - be it in Egypt or east San Francisco. I have little need for the knickknackery that clutters up homes or the tshirts that clutter up bodies. As a result, much of&amp;nbsp;the evidence of&amp;nbsp;my adventures&amp;nbsp;seem to come home in the form of toiletries from the world's finest hotels. I have bags and bags of everything from toothbrushes to shampoo. Soap from Copacabana Palace in Rio? check. Lotion from St. Regis in Beijing? check. It is fascinating to see all my favorite places commingling in the drawer.&lt;br /&gt;When my sister was unpacking my apartment, she gave me two choices...either she threw out all that "crap" immediately or I promised to not purchase a single toiletry item until I had exhausted each of these travel samples. As I agreed to her draconian terms, I have not purchased a toothbrush, or personal cleaning product in over three months (and it will be months more before I have exhausted my supply).&lt;br /&gt;I have tried to have fun with it. As I condition my hair with a product I picked up in France I remember how much I love Paris. My memories flood in with each wash. I can travel the world without leaving my bathtub.&lt;br /&gt;A couple of weeks ago I was in my kitchen to prepare a meal and I thought to myself I should order groceries. I then stopped myself and asked "why?" There is plenty of food in my cabinets and fridge, am I going to order more because of a passing craving? I made the decision then and there that I would not order groceries until I had eaten everything I already&amp;nbsp;have in my home. My cabinets contained items ordered weeks ago that I thought I wanted to eat and then never touched. It is amazing how our cupboards (not just in the kitchen)&amp;nbsp;can become full of things that we never really wanted to begin with. Being fickle is in contrast with being grateful. What I want is not always necessary for what I need.&amp;nbsp;I decided instead of giving in to the whim of craving, I would be grateful for the food I have. There is plenty in my kitchen to provide sustenance, and for that I am grateful. My next shopping excursion will certainly be more mindful of that which will provide what I truly need right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-8177675356611836863?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/8177675356611836863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/wants-vs-needs.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8177675356611836863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8177675356611836863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/wants-vs-needs.html' title='wants vs needs'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-5433480584351983321</id><published>2010-07-25T12:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-25T12:04:31.755-07:00</updated><title type='text'>full moon</title><content type='html'>The full moon is often considered to be a passionate time. The power of the moon fully lit increases our energy and often forces nature to come to a head...hospital emergency rooms often see an influx during a full moon - it can send someone into labor, into a heated fight, be a distraction of instability during an otherwise ordinary life.&lt;br /&gt;True ashtanga yogis do not practice on full moon days, knowing that the increased energy felt form a full moon can make you more prone to accidents or injury. It is important to take extra care during this powerful phase.&lt;br /&gt;In all ways,&amp;nbsp;so of course also&amp;nbsp;spiritually, the full moon is opposite of the new moon. During a new moon you offer up your intentions of things/people/circumstances/emotions you would like to see come into your life. A full moon is more about purging.&lt;br /&gt;At this time, during a full moon, set your intentions on what you would like to release from your life. A full moon reflection should incorporate those things/people/circumstances/emotions you would like to remove. As you look up at the full moon tonight, contemplate deep in your heart the negative within your life, and then with a deep breath, truly let it go out of your heart and your life. Intentionally release tonight and allow the power of the moon, of the universe to collect that negative energy making room for the positive you seek during the next new moon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-5433480584351983321?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/5433480584351983321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/full-moon.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5433480584351983321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5433480584351983321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/full-moon.html' title='full moon'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-957877484291182257</id><published>2010-07-23T12:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-23T12:38:21.627-07:00</updated><title type='text'>alternate realities</title><content type='html'>I found myself in a bit of a conundrum earlier today. In order to be accepted into the Traditional Chinese Medicine graduate program, I need to prove I took biology as an undergraduate. I did, sort of. You see, while still a teen I had this genius idea that testing out of life science (CLEP Exam) would allow me to have more time for "real" science - political science. Oh, the things I would tell my younger self if I were able to sit her down way back then.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the exams do not show up on my official transcripts. But, I know I took the tests, I remember sitting in the big room. I remember writing checks for hundreds of dollars. I remember submitting my passing grades....I just need someone to fax those over.&lt;br /&gt;I call my university and relay the situation to the girl in the registrars office. She types my ID number into her computer and says there is no record of the exams. It should be in my file I said. I'm looking at your file she said. No, not computer file, old school paper file. Oh, she replies, I don't know where those would be, maybe try the department? I'm transferred over to life sciences where I am told by another girl that she does not know how to "work" the paper files. I'll have to wait until Tuesday when the man who does comes in. I'm crossing my fingers that this "old timer" is able to alphabetize and locate the file with&amp;nbsp;my exam scores&amp;nbsp;by hand - then I need it to get onto a computer so it appears valid in today's society.&lt;br /&gt;I received my undergraduate degree in the 1990's, but it may as well have been the 1890's. For, it seems, if it does not exist on the computer, it does not exist. Regardless of reality, unless it lives digitally, it didn't really live at all.&lt;br /&gt;There is another side to this coin, and that is if something does exist online, that it must be real. Shirley Sherrod has been all over the news the last week or so for a clip edited out of context that made her appear to be racist. She has been vindicated, but it took a lot of work to fill the cyberworld with what was actually real once it existed in its mutated form. The damage to her reputation and history cannot be undone, it lives on the computer now, so it will live forever in its own alternate reality.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-957877484291182257?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/957877484291182257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/alternate-realities.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/957877484291182257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/957877484291182257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/alternate-realities.html' title='alternate realities'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-7880701311172468214</id><published>2010-07-20T19:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-20T19:06:01.510-07:00</updated><title type='text'>bonding with lindsay lohan</title><content type='html'>Today Lindsay Lohan found herself in a jail cell, and I found myself on the bus. While she and I have very little in common, I feel quite confidently that today we had the same thought: "how exactly did I end up &lt;em&gt;here&lt;/em&gt;?"&lt;br /&gt;I have never been a fan of driving. I'd much rather be driven if a ride is required (anything less than two miles, I'd rather just walk). When transportation has been required over the past few years, I was able to do that in the comfort of my hybrid lexus suv, not on a bus with a few dozen strangers. Not anymore though, I gave the lexus back, gave the whole life back, and now I start anew.&lt;br /&gt;So, Lindsay (and self), we ended up here as a result of our own choices. Each day offers a slew of new choices, and we just have to try our darndest to make the right ones.&lt;br /&gt;I will share with you my bus experience though, just for giggles...&lt;br /&gt;My iphone was kind enough to give me full information on which bus to take and where to walk to get it. I had my $2 ready (I had asked other San Franciscans about the bus and they had told me it was $2 - they had also told me not to take the bus,&amp;nbsp;but that is beside the point. I am a brave strong city girl now, and I can take a bus). ;-)&lt;br /&gt;I board the appropriate bus, put my $2 in the little machine as the guy ahead of me had done, and the driver hands me this slip of paper with today's date. Hmmm...I hadn't been told of any slip of paper involved, so I posted it on facebook asking for guidance. A kind soul, friend of a friend, let me know that this is a "transfer". She said it allows me to get on any bus for another two hours. Awesome!&lt;br /&gt;During my bus trip I noticed something odd - some people paid when they got on the bus, and many people just got on the bus - especially crazy people. The driver was oblivious to passengers - just opened the door and closed the door. One man, who was the incarnate of a black Rod Blagojevich (he was spewing about how the government was out to get him and he was innocent) just pushed his way on&amp;nbsp;- with only two full fingers left on his right hand - right into the middle of everything. No harm no foul though. No one messed with me, and I arrived just fine at my destination.&lt;br /&gt;I attend my school interview, and then use the iphone again to locate a bus to take me downtown to my doctor appointment. I end up lost while walking, but iphone eventually gets me to another bus. Upon boarding, I proudly present my "transfer" to the bus driver. "I have this piece of paper" I said. She doesn't even look up. "Okay, sit down" she says. "Do you need to punch this or check this or keep this or something?" I say. She glances up, eyes stopping on the cartier wrapped around my finger. She smiles and says "sugar, you keep that, just sit down."&lt;br /&gt;After my doctor appointment I made a stop into victoria's secret (I may have a date this weekend) and decide that although I usually walk home from downtown, today I will continue my bus exploration. With the help of the iphone I find a bus that will take me close to home and join the crowd around the stop.&lt;br /&gt;When the bus arrives people start entering and the bus driver shouts at us: "half of you go in through the back". Okay. I go with half the crowd through the back door and realize that now I am one of the people who "just got on the bus" without having paid. No one seems to mind or notice, the bus just goes. &lt;br /&gt;When I relayed this story to my sister she told me that&amp;nbsp;the drivers&amp;nbsp;get paid to go from point a to point b - on time. "They don't get your two dollars" she said "they get paid to drive on time".&lt;br /&gt;As a former delegate for Ron Paul, those of you who know me know that I believe strongly in privatizing &lt;strong&gt;everything&lt;/strong&gt;. I stand strong in this belief, especially after what I witnessed today - there is no way a private for profit company would allow the chaos I experienced on the bus system. But, it is what it is, and I at least learned that my fear was bigger than the reality, and I am stronger once again than I thought I could be. I can take the bus. I can do what is necessary to get me to the place I want to be. I'm sure Lindsay is realizing the same thing from within her cell tonight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-7880701311172468214?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/7880701311172468214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/bonding-with-lindsay-lohan.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7880701311172468214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7880701311172468214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/bonding-with-lindsay-lohan.html' title='bonding with lindsay lohan'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-8107577567987454354</id><published>2010-07-18T22:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T22:55:24.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>taking the bus</title><content type='html'>Most of the time I am blissfully unaware of how fragile &amp; vulnerable I am. My skin &amp; my spirit are pretty thick, but there are moments reality kicks in &amp; I'm just a small girl from the most rural of areas (God bless Wyoming) trying to survive life alone in the big tough city.&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday I'm going to take a bus. I have heard repeatedly since my arrival "don't take the muni" (sf's public transportation).  It is world renowned for it's undesirableness. There is filth, there is groping, there are the insane, and there are the fights. Several of the fights on buses here are so intense that they have landed on YouTube. &lt;br /&gt;I'm stuck though. I have an interview at the only accredited acupuncture school in sf, and it is five miles from my house in a neighborhood not easily accessible - even if I wanted to walk that far. If I go through with enrolling there, I have to be able to get there. A cab would cost me $50 a day, so that leaves the bus.&lt;br /&gt;I know what you are thinking..."just get a car". To be honest, I haven't negotiated a car purchase in over a decade, and all apologies to my feminist friends, that's the kind of thing I need a man to do for me. Navigating a car purchase is perhaps more frightening than the bus. ;)&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes in life we have to be brave beyond our fears. This is one of those times for me. Chances are, with all the risks I take in life, death on a San Francisco bus is not going to be where I see the end...or at least I hope not, I'm hoping for something far more glamorous &amp; interesting.&lt;br /&gt;That said, I'm curious as to how my stint on public transportation will play out. Although I have done repeated online research, I'm still unclear about which buses go where, so I may never end up at the school at all...once again I have an adventure in store. I'll keep you posted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-8107577567987454354?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/8107577567987454354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/taking-bus.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8107577567987454354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8107577567987454354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/taking-bus.html' title='taking the bus'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6483217202996907713</id><published>2010-07-18T16:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-18T16:33:57.482-07:00</updated><title type='text'>porn stars &amp; hand jobs</title><content type='html'>I was out furniture shopping with my new friends James &amp; Vince and we were making small talk, just catching up.&lt;br /&gt;I mentioned to them that I am considering acupuncture school again, and that they offer a massage certification as well.&lt;br /&gt;Do you think the program would require me to cut my fingernails? I asked them. "probably" vince replied. "I don't know if I'd want to do it then" I said "you'd think they'd let me just work around them". "I don't know if that would be possible" vince said. "well, I don't know," replied James "porn stars can still give hand jobs".&lt;br /&gt;Mmmm...there was a moment of silence while we all envisioned extra long porn star nails wrapped around a man's most delicate area. Kind of makes you realize nearly everything is possible.&lt;br /&gt;My fingernails grow long naturally. It's a true genetic gift, and one I don't take for granted. As a result, there are tasks such as typing on this iPhone that I have had to learn to do differently than most. I'm fine with adjustments, just so long as I don't have to give up the nails. I try to keep that which brings me pleasure.&lt;br /&gt;We all have things about ourselves or in our lives that we hold on to, and as a result, we adapt the way we live to keep them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6483217202996907713?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6483217202996907713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/porn-stars-hand-jobs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6483217202996907713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6483217202996907713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/porn-stars-hand-jobs.html' title='porn stars &amp;amp; hand jobs'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2050231624250534465</id><published>2010-07-15T19:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T18:05:22.315-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A new dress</title><content type='html'>I have a friend who bought herself a new dress yesterday. She texted me a photo of her in it, and no one has ever looked so beautiful. When I wrote of the lotus flower yesterday, she is the greatest example. I can only strive to live life with the grace that she seems to exude effortlessly. It isn't effortless though, it is rooted in her inner strength and a life growing through the muck and seeking the light. It only makes her more beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;There are some amazing people in this world who touch you so deeply, so truly, that neither time nor distance stops their hearts beating within yours.&lt;br /&gt;It is to those people we turn when we are most vulnerable and they hold us up when we haven't the strength to stand.&lt;br /&gt;Today I am grateful for a life filled with inspirational people, and I'm thinking someday soon I'm buying myself a new dress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2050231624250534465?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2050231624250534465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/new-dress.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2050231624250534465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2050231624250534465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/new-dress.html' title='A new dress'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-360990528520507066</id><published>2010-07-15T14:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-15T14:33:19.847-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the lotus flower</title><content type='html'>It is no secret how much I truly love flowers. I even have a tendency to keep them around long after they've died just remembering their beauty when they were in bloom.&lt;br /&gt;One of the greatest things about landing in southeast asia is being surrounded by their native flowers...orchids, birds of paradise...it is when I see them blooming in the wild&amp;nbsp;that I know in my heart I am "home".&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the most inspirational of asian flowers is the lotus. This beautiful, fragrant bloom rises up from the most ugly of places - dark and murky swamps filled with mud and pollution. Its ability to remain beautiful no matter the difficulty or despair of its environment is due to the strength of its roots. While the lovely flower is what is adored and seen on the surface, it is able to blossom because beneath the surface it has dug deep into the mud and slowly built itself up and through. The beauty of a lotus is awesome, especially because it appears to flourish so effortlessly, and to remain unaffected by challenges that surround it.&lt;br /&gt;As I have mentioned though, that beauty could not last the elements were it not solid at its core - held steadfast by the strength of the roots and the stem.&amp;nbsp;The lotus flower took&amp;nbsp;time to develop properly and grow towards the light, to bloom strong and vibrant on the surface, and remind us all to remain true to our beauty even when the world around us&amp;nbsp;appears unpleasant and difficult.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-360990528520507066?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/360990528520507066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/lotus-flower.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/360990528520507066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/360990528520507066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/lotus-flower.html' title='the lotus flower'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-7423224632776068900</id><published>2010-07-14T12:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-14T12:25:17.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dukkha</title><content type='html'>"You feel hopeless&amp;nbsp;and homeless and lost in the haze of the wine"&lt;br /&gt;-Mikel Jollett&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Siddhartha was the founder of Buddhism. His path to enlightenment and awareness can be said to have begun upon his discovery and understanding of suffering.&lt;br /&gt;The word suffering is limited by english translation of the word Siddhartha would have used:&amp;nbsp;Dukkha, which encompasses nearly everything from a circumstance that is not satisfactory to complete anguish.&lt;br /&gt;We all experience Dukkha in our lives, and there are times we can clearly see the way to "fix" our situation, and there are other times that our hands feel so completely tied.&lt;br /&gt;Siddharthat dedicated his life to finding a way to ease and end the suffering, and reached enlightenment at the age of 35, becomming Supreme Buddha. I'm around that age, and not even close to an enlightened state. But, I try to comfort myself with the fact Siddharthat was able to devote his life after age 29&amp;nbsp;to wandering around seeking enlightenment, and nothing else. I can say with confidence he never had to check his email, pay his mortgage, or design a sorority t-shirt. He lived then, we live now, and our world, as I mentioned in my last post, is filled with many distractions - some real, some self-created.&lt;br /&gt;Siddharthat was right though when he spoke of Dukkha being&amp;nbsp;a result of lack of clarity of&amp;nbsp;our minds. When faced with a struggle, with&amp;nbsp;suffering, the only true power we have is&amp;nbsp;seeking clarity and what is truly right for us in this moment. It&amp;nbsp;may not be fair, it may not be ideal, but it is what it is, and we must focus our&amp;nbsp;thoughts to guide us through.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-7423224632776068900?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/7423224632776068900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/dukkha.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7423224632776068900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7423224632776068900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/dukkha.html' title='Dukkha'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3981373815530588954</id><published>2010-07-12T19:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T20:00:03.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaping before you look</title><content type='html'>I have mentioned to you before that I have two best friends. They are more than that...if I only knew two people for a lifetime, I could not know two more beautiful, amazing, insightful, fantastically flawed, true men.&lt;br /&gt;I am not me without them, and every now again they remind me of who I am.&lt;br /&gt;I was speaking with one of them yesterday, just catching up, and he said to me: "you are making the same mistakes all over again...well, maybe not mistakes, but distractions. You are the queen of distractions."&lt;br /&gt;He's right. Drop me anywhere on this planet and within a few days I will have organized community activism, various dates with the local boys, perhaps even a chilli cook-off. There's no limit to the things I will do to prevent me from doing what I should be doing - focusing on what I actually want to do.&lt;br /&gt;I guess I have a problem with leaping before I look. The leaping can be such an adventure though, and it's hard to turn down an adventure...even if it leaves me exhausted and still seeking. I'm afraid if I start really looking I'll loose the courage to keep leaping.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3981373815530588954?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3981373815530588954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/leaping-before-you-look.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3981373815530588954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3981373815530588954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/leaping-before-you-look.html' title='Leaping before you look'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-5595938363029871648</id><published>2010-07-11T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-11T11:02:05.721-07:00</updated><title type='text'>new moon</title><content type='html'>The phases of the lunar cycle have been studied since the beginning of time. The natural&amp;nbsp;power that the moon has over each of us is still strong even in the modern, fast paced world we live in.&lt;br /&gt;Full moons tend to be times of intensity, strong energy and emotion. New moons, such as we have today, are a time for reflection and nurturing.&lt;br /&gt;A new moon is a wonderful time to&amp;nbsp;consider that which you would like to have come to the surface from within yourself or come into your life from the universe around you.&lt;br /&gt;I invite you today to take some time during this dark night and consider the growth and change you would like to see take hold during this new cycle of nature, and your life. Now is a perfect time to reflect upon your intentions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-5595938363029871648?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/5595938363029871648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/new-moon.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5595938363029871648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5595938363029871648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/new-moon.html' title='new moon'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-4375150516233750191</id><published>2010-07-09T20:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T20:52:18.760-07:00</updated><title type='text'>mailbox full</title><content type='html'>I mentioned a couple of days ago having a "staycation" of sorts - being in the town in which I lived and seeing as much of it as possible over a holiday weekend. Going so much wore me out, and I found myself amidst a different kind of staycation later in the week - one in which I stayed, literally. I&amp;nbsp;stayed as still as possible for over a day - just fully relaxing, tending to no one's needs but my own. &lt;br /&gt;Having completely unplugged, my voicemailbox became full during this sabbatical of mine. I noticed it, but let the messages sit...instead of jumping back into the hectic life of being easily accessible, I was inaccessible, and okay with that. There would be plenty of time to catch up on the things that needed doing - actually there is always something that "needs doing" - sometimes we get it all done, sometimes we don't.&lt;br /&gt;I tried to imagine life in the sixties when if you were not home to answer the phone, the call did not exist. Not an easy concept to grasp&amp;nbsp;though when you have never lived in such a world. Probably not even an easy thing to do for many of us...just allowing voicemail to stop existing. Cellphones are&amp;nbsp;our cigarettes - in the sixties everyone had a smoke in their hand, something to do with their fingers - now we have gadgets to keep those fingers occupied.&lt;br /&gt;I am not trying to take a stand against our technological world. It is what it is, and I choose to live within it. I am trying to take a stand against never taking a moment, an hour, a day, in which you focus inward instead of outward. If you stop and listen only&amp;nbsp;to your internal voicemail every now and again it makes it easier for you to know each day which calls are worth taking and making.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-4375150516233750191?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/4375150516233750191/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/mailbox-full.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4375150516233750191'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4375150516233750191'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/mailbox-full.html' title='mailbox full'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-9037352582915850794</id><published>2010-07-08T08:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-08T08:55:50.968-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bearing fruit</title><content type='html'>A couple of weeks ago I was sitting in a friend's back yard and I noticed at the other end of the lawn a tree that appeared to bear fruit. Are those limes? I asked him. I don't know what they are, he replied, but they are awful. He then told me that when he had moved in about a year ago he had plucked one of the green fruits and when he cut it open it was "mushy &amp; gross inside".&lt;br /&gt;And that was it? I asked. You never tried again? Nope, he replied, the fruit from that tree is bad.&lt;br /&gt;I was unsettled by the fact he had spent a year with this tree living mere feet from him yet he had so quickly dismissed it, and left it in a state of neglect. I walked over to investigate myself.&lt;br /&gt;The front of the tree contained the strange green fruit I had seen from a distance, but when I immersed myself in it's branches I discovered the most beautiful huge ripe lemons buried in the back. I excitedly began picking them &amp; brought them back into the house to cut them open.&lt;br /&gt;Those lemons were so juicy that I couldn't help but bite right into one. The tartness was perfect, a little orgasm in my mouth. I brought several home with me &amp; have enjoyed them in every food &amp; drink I have prepared since.&lt;br /&gt;Reflecting on that tree I cannot help but think of how many times in life we are dismissed, by others or by ourselves, as being "bad". In reality, it may not yet be our time to bear ripe fruit. We may just be in a state of gestation and growth, slowly creating our most perfect fruit that will one day come to the surface and be discovered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-9037352582915850794?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/9037352582915850794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/bearing-fruit.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9037352582915850794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9037352582915850794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/bearing-fruit.html' title='Bearing fruit'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6339696797366573247</id><published>2010-07-07T17:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T17:29:01.992-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Long weekends</title><content type='html'>We all love long weekends...even make big plans in advance of their arrival. We fill the "extra" time with all sorts of activities we look forward to and often wear ourselves out trying to squeeze it all in.&lt;br /&gt;I myself have been victim of needing a vacation after a vacation. I'm sure you've been there too.&lt;br /&gt;It is difficult after a break in the routine to return to the routine. I suppose in some ways that has been a difficulty of mine with living in a new city &amp; taking on a new life...I have never been one to embrace routine to begin with, and it is even harder when there is no precedent in place for what that routine is.&lt;br /&gt;We all need structure in some form, but when you remove all sense of structure a third way through your life, the amount of choices as to what to bring in as your routine can feel daunting. &lt;br /&gt;I don't want to make the same mistakes twice, but that does not mean I will know the mistakes to make. We all have to return to our routines after a long weekend...even if that is the process of creating new routines from a fresh start.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6339696797366573247?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6339696797366573247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/long-weekends.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6339696797366573247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6339696797366573247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/07/long-weekends.html' title='Long weekends'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-8986305804408516420</id><published>2010-06-30T11:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T11:46:32.018-07:00</updated><title type='text'>connecting</title><content type='html'>In vinyasa yoga you do a sequence of postures repeatedly throughout the asana process. It is the same sequence again and again, always ending in downward facing dog. I hate downward facing dog. It manages to highlight every part of me that is weak. We all know by now that vinyasa is not my favorite yoga class, but it is necessary for me right now. I have found myself seeing the class as a bit of a metaphor for life.&lt;br /&gt;Before we move forward in the class, we all meet in downward facing dog time and time again. Good teachers will show you a couple of ways to get there, and remind you that it is your vinyasa (as it is your life). You get there in the way that is best for you, but, if you want to move forward, you have to&amp;nbsp;eventually reach&amp;nbsp;that downward facing dog. It is in that posture that you connect - first to yourself, and you then commit to those around you that you are moving forward with them.&lt;br /&gt;There are some times that I skip it all together and just wrap myself up in child's pose. But, it is there that I remember the metaphor, and I pull myself up to connect.&lt;br /&gt;You see, in life, it is the people you connect with after you connect with yourself that matter most. As Suzie Orman says: "people first".&lt;br /&gt;This morning I had a gchat with a dear friend of over a decade. We haven't had a conversation in many months. Busy parts of life just got in the way. It would be easier on some level to just stop trying to connect all together, but then I would lose him. We value our connection&amp;nbsp;more than any possession in life, so, although he was late for a meeting, and&amp;nbsp;I was knee deep in research for an upcoming client, and we both are exhausted, we chose to connect - just for a moment - finding ourselves in downward facing dog if you will - feeling the stress of life moving through us and around us, but taking a few breaths together.&lt;br /&gt;The memories that make you smile throughout the day are filled with connections to others - there is a rush that being with the right person at the right time can give you that nothing else can compare to. So, today I invite you to take a moment and enjoy a few deep breaths with someone you want to connect and move forward with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-8986305804408516420?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/8986305804408516420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/connecting.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8986305804408516420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8986305804408516420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/connecting.html' title='connecting'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-577648856288253709</id><published>2010-06-29T14:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-29T14:20:00.187-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my temple</title><content type='html'>If you ask people what is the most important thing in their life, you will get a slew of various answers, but rarely the right one: my body. Without it, of course, is no life.&lt;br /&gt;Each&amp;nbsp;of us is guilty, some more frequently than others,&amp;nbsp;of treating our temple of life like a low rent apartment in the bad side of town.&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm not asking you to consider striving for perfection. Perfection is not only impossible, striving for it will exhaust you and leave you little to live for. Those of you who know me intimately are well aware that I have some "bad"&amp;nbsp;habits that I have no intention of letting go of as long as grapes grow on this earth. I'm good with that.&amp;nbsp;They ease my mind, allowing&amp;nbsp;me to relax, be flawed, and embrace imperfection.&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, there are some habits that I really should be working on so my body knows it is my most prized possession. For example, some people are stress eaters - when things heat up in their life, when the boyfriend doesn't call (or there is no boyfriend), when they feel overwhelmed, overworked, etc. they turn to food for comfort. I am the opposite, I am a stress starver. When I have too much going on, when I feel overwhlemed,&amp;nbsp;I may have moments of hunger but they are brief and quickly pass when I remind myself of all I am consumed with at the moment. As a result, I can go a day or two without eating and not realize it. Not good. Thank god for the people in my life who gently offer me a piece of bread, or other small meal, to remind me that I must stop and eat.&lt;br /&gt;I also naturally require what many would consider to be a lot of sleep (at least eight hours a night), this is especially true while I am healing. Yet, there are nights like last night where I am out until 2:00am knowing full well I had to be up at six for a slew of high energy things. The lack of sleep causes stress, the stress causes me to starve, starving makes sleep difficult...you see how the vicious cycle gets going.&lt;br /&gt;So, reflecting on my neglect, I made myself a sandwich, and decided to re-commit to the most important thing in my life - the upkeep of my temple, and I encourage you to take a moment of reflection to see how you can better&amp;nbsp;maintain your most prized possession.&lt;br /&gt;I realize it can seem that you do not have the time to properly take care of yourself, but remember, without&amp;nbsp;your "self" in a healthy state,&amp;nbsp;there is no time at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-577648856288253709?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/577648856288253709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-temple.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/577648856288253709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/577648856288253709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/my-temple.html' title='my temple'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-5764217043929385622</id><published>2010-06-28T11:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-28T11:33:55.041-07:00</updated><title type='text'>overreacting</title><content type='html'>Some of you know firsthand that last week was tough for me (thank you for the facebook posts, emails &amp;amp; phone conversations to get me through). For those who do not know me personally, it showed in my lack of posting on this blog.&lt;br /&gt;An interesting insight came to be on Friday evening which I will carry with me as I move forward. I was chatting with someone new to my life about my choices in my twenties.&amp;nbsp;I was mentioning another instance where&amp;nbsp;I had gone from what I now realize was one extreme choice to another&amp;nbsp;and he said "so this was another time you overreacted to your life". Huh. Yeah, I guess it was.&lt;br /&gt;I spent Saturday nurturing myself, inhaling the&amp;nbsp;power of the ocean, allowing the simplicity of nature to simplify the thoughts in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;I remembered once again that everyone needs something in their life that grounds them, that reminds them that the world only spins as quickly as we allow it to. For me, yoga has been that grounding force, and I needed to get back to the mat to let go of "bad" decisions to allow room for good decisions.&lt;br /&gt;I have made many statements on the yoga subject: yoga cures all things... we go back to the mat to remember what we have forgotten... asana is a gateway to reaching meditation when our minds are not within our control.&lt;br /&gt;On Sundays I take the 6:00 class, but this Sunday I showed up two hours early and checked in for two classes back to back - 3.5 hours of yoga. The girl at the desk said "that's ambitious". No, I thought in mind, it's necessary. &lt;br /&gt;That 4:30 class turned out to be one of the best asana practices I have ever had. I was working harder than I have in a long time, without it feeling like work at all. I didn't even mind that I was "glistening". When I would second guess myself or a choice I had made during the week, I pushed it out of my mind&amp;nbsp;through my&amp;nbsp;physical body.&lt;br /&gt;When we reached savasana (the part where you just lie very still at the end) the teacher said to all of us: "this is what you have worked for. this is what asana does, allows us to fully fall into meditiation". Yes. Subconsciously, that is what I had sought when I dedicated my Sunday evening to this. I can reach the calm again, I can maintain peace.&lt;br /&gt;Yoga is not for everyone. I get that. I do hope that if it isn't yoga for you, that you give yourself the time and effort&amp;nbsp;to find what will work for you -&amp;nbsp;the passion that allows you to connect with your inner peace.&lt;br /&gt;As I reflect on the life I once lived, versus the life I live now, I am so grateful to have the grounding to be able to breathe, admit defeat, admit bad choices, and be okay with that... instead of overreacting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-5764217043929385622?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/5764217043929385622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/overreacting.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5764217043929385622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5764217043929385622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/overreacting.html' title='overreacting'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-4718307675349137517</id><published>2010-06-25T10:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-25T10:51:11.167-07:00</updated><title type='text'>same choices different city</title><content type='html'>Most people find a sense of security in the familiar.&amp;nbsp;That path less traveled is easily touted but difficult to walk. This last week I turned&amp;nbsp;something down&amp;nbsp;after realizing it was the same path I had walked before, just in a new city. A "new" choice that actually was the same choice. It took me weeks to realize the similarities, but once I did, those similarities were way too familiar.&amp;nbsp;It also made me recognize something about human nature... when everything around you is different, we easily regress to the familiar instead of taking the leap of faith into the unknown.&lt;br /&gt;So, once again,&amp;nbsp;I'm leaping. When I focus on the fact that the choice I made before did not reap the results I had hoped (escape from those familiar choices are actually what drove me here) it is easier to face the fear of the unknown than the fear of going through the same cycle again.&lt;br /&gt;There is a fringe expression that "shift happens" - a play on words from a phrase we have all heard before. I don't agree with it's simplicity. We actually have to push the shift to happen...to not embrace what we know, but instead embrace what can be, to let go of who we were and become who we wish to be...to shift from the same choices into choices beyond our limitations, beyond the familiar, into the realm of where we strive to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-4718307675349137517?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/4718307675349137517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/same-choices-different-city.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4718307675349137517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4718307675349137517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/same-choices-different-city.html' title='same choices different city'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-5068913812920000689</id><published>2010-06-21T09:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-21T09:36:16.444-07:00</updated><title type='text'>falling...and flying</title><content type='html'>There are some postures in yoga in which the main focus is balance - literally, balancing the body in an odd way. The "trick" with balance postures is that it is much more about control of the mind than control of the body. You cannot force balance, you surrender in order to obtain balance. As a result, good teachers will mention during balance postures to not be afraid to fall. You have to release the fear and focus on the control.&lt;br /&gt;In my experience there are more balance postures used in my stretchy hatha classes than in the vinyasa flow classes I take nearby. Nonetheless, those balance poses pop up every now and again, and a favorite within vinyasa is warrior 3, a posture in which you are balancing with one leg on the ground, one leg outstretched behind you, and your arms extend beyond the body. Warrior 3 is also a favorite of mine, not only because this balance challenge opens itself up to release ourselves in two directions...but that challenge is truly both mind and mody...&amp;nbsp;in order to be successful at the position, you have to not only be&amp;nbsp;without fear of&amp;nbsp;falling, you have to&amp;nbsp;not be afraid to&amp;nbsp;fly.&lt;br /&gt;For many of us this odd underlying fear of success, of true&amp;nbsp;"beyond the clouds" success scares us. We fill with self doubt, anxiety, quickly list ways in which the achievement just isn't possible.&amp;nbsp;Yoga&amp;nbsp;emulates life though... it is all in the mind. We have to release our thoughts of fear, and simply focus on each simple task at hand. We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted by negativity or pressure. Some&amp;nbsp;moments are only acheived through surrendering any worry of can or can't, will or won't, and just allowing the body and mind to flow together. When they do we are able to simply&amp;nbsp;soar to places beyond our "limitations".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-5068913812920000689?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/5068913812920000689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/fallingand-flying.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5068913812920000689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5068913812920000689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/fallingand-flying.html' title='falling...and flying'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-7633064774727668796</id><published>2010-06-18T14:11:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T14:11:44.409-07:00</updated><title type='text'>things happen</title><content type='html'>I am always terribly unsettled when you see someone win an award and start their speech with "I'd like to thank god..." as though god chose them above the others whom he wanted to lose. Or, someone survives an illness, accident or disaster where others did not and they say "I guess god wanted me to live". Really?! So god wanted other people to die? Try explaining that to friends and loved ones...that god didn't choose for the person in their life to live. It's b.s.&lt;br /&gt;There are sometimes difficult or unexplainable things that happen in our lives, and an easy go-to line is "everything happens for a reason". I don't know that life is that controlled or contrived though, that there is some magical force which chooses our life lessons.&lt;br /&gt;I do believe in kharma, that positive energy begets positive energy and vice-versa. It is not an exact science though, kharma, nor is it always "fair". With that understanding &amp; acceptance, that we do not always give and receive in equal measures in life, I believe that we can choose to learn and grow from any of life's experiences. Choosing to analyze a situation for growth, and digging deep to find the love through the pain, is time better spent than trying to assign blame (be it to god, others, or often ourselves).&lt;br /&gt;This is a topic I have struggled with due to my physical state of the last three months (and the next three months). It can be hard yearning for answers when there simply is no answer. This is life, in all its complications and simplicity... sometimes, things. just. happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-7633064774727668796?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/7633064774727668796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/things-happen.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7633064774727668796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7633064774727668796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/things-happen.html' title='things happen'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-7959979102499329128</id><published>2010-06-18T10:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T10:17:07.594-07:00</updated><title type='text'>commitment</title><content type='html'>I was talking with a new friend a couple of days ago and we were joking about how many people believe if you are over the age of thirty-five and never been married that you have some issue with commitment. That's crazy we laughed and patted ourselves on the back for the many ways in which we had displayed commitment in our lives.&lt;br /&gt;The subject then turned to what brought me to San Francisco and where I live in the city, etc. I talked about how if this doesn't work out I can always go back "home" to DC. I mentioned that I pay a fortune in rent here, but at least my lease is month to month, giving the security that I can go at any time. "I don't know that that is a good idea" he said. "You have to give the city at least a year or it will never really work out for you." We then talked about truly committin to something, as though there is no other option. Interesting insights flowed. Then, after some time had passed he laughed aloud and said "my lease is also month to month".&lt;br /&gt;Our conversation has led me to think substantially about what real commitment is. I know I am responsible. I have proven dedication again and again. Put me in charge of a group, or project, or put me in a relationship, and I am there giving my all, but, am I ever really committed in my heart? Am I always storing up my options and alternatives as a safety net just in case? And if I am, is that all bad or is it being prepared?&lt;br /&gt;Another conversation I had a couple of weeks ago also has played into my thoughts on this topic. It was with a great person I have met here who thought I had it all wrong in terms of the type of wedding I've always planned to have...very small...just me and spouse, officiant, and random stranger witness. He asked me to consider that I am looking at it all wrong, that a weddding deserves to be treated like a big event because it is. He said&amp;nbsp;that the fighting bridesmaids and flower debates and general pains in the behind that come with a big wedding represent the "bigness" of how you will see your marriage. It is a huge public commitment that should be witnessed by as many as possible, and treated as grand as the entity it represents.&lt;br /&gt;So, although I had always assumed in my heart that my wedding would be the most important decision I ever make, and as a result should be solemn and private, may not have represented the commitment&amp;nbsp;in the right way if I am going long term.&amp;nbsp;Who knows, there is still so very much for me in life before that day comes, but I need to remain confident within myself that one day I will sign a long term lease with someone - the absolute longest contract. I can do it, or at least hope it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-7959979102499329128?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/7959979102499329128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/commitment.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7959979102499329128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/7959979102499329128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/commitment.html' title='commitment'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3427236440532234924</id><published>2010-06-16T11:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-16T11:22:30.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i don't know</title><content type='html'>I received a card years ago that I keep on my meditation altar. It says: "Right now you're in the place between the way things were and the way things are yet to be"&lt;br /&gt;It has remained on that altar for years, and remains there today,&amp;nbsp;because I feel I have been in that "in between" place for such a long time. I have not yet seen the light of what is yet to be.&lt;br /&gt;There are phases in our life in which everything seems to make sense, it is all in order, and we have a confidence within us, that this moment, this life, is the way you had planned it all to be. Success seems to brim all around, and you feel a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.&lt;br /&gt;Then, there are those other phases, sometimes they are dark phases of sadness, loss, or grief, and other times they are simply phases of not knowing. For me, the not knowing times are the hardest.&amp;nbsp;I often tell people close to me, good or bad, always tell me the truth; for not knowing is always&amp;nbsp;harder than having to guess any given circumstance.&lt;br /&gt;Not knowing can illicit all sorts of extraordinary fears, often unfounded, but powerful nonetheless. Not knowing leaves you vulnerable, weak on some level. I am overwhelmed and ashamed&amp;nbsp;to admit that right now, in this phase of my life, in so many many ways, I just don't know. Shouldn't I have it all figured out by now?&lt;br /&gt;To combat my insecurity of being in a state of unknown future, I remind myself that technically, no matter how confident one may be in any given moment, this is life, there is always the unexpected heading down the pipeline. There is insecurity lingering in all of us, a vulnerability that may not be on the surface just yet. I try to take consolation in that while I am exposed in my state of not knowing that others who seem to know may just be in a state of pre-unknown.&lt;br /&gt;I suppose today's entry is simply this...while not knowing how your future is going to pan out, while that can be very scary in unstable phases, it is actually the constant state of life. We are all in some way moving on from the way things were to the way things are yet to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3427236440532234924?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3427236440532234924/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-dont-know.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3427236440532234924'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3427236440532234924'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-dont-know.html' title='i don&apos;t know'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2297420559619166080</id><published>2010-06-14T22:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T22:47:21.852-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Heavy lifting</title><content type='html'>The heart is the temple of the body, and any good temple is open all the time.&lt;br /&gt;It is interesting that feelings of fear or despair have a heavy weight that places itself beyond the mind and throught the body. Consider how you physically respond when you are sad or afraid. Your shoulders roll in, your fall over your stomach, and block your heart even further with your arms. The weight of the thoughts of the mind cause you to physically collapse into yourself. When you are angry you tighten all muscles, tighten your breathing, and again, are placing that weight onto the heart.&lt;br /&gt;When we are joyful, we associate that with a physical feeling of lightness. You are willing to open your arms wide and embrace, swallowing in this airy feeling.&lt;br /&gt;Light can be squashed by heavy at rapid speeds, but lifting the heavy out of you is much more difficult.&lt;br /&gt;In restorative yoga we use props and weights to gently force heavy under control and into the right areas to pull the light back out from under it's squashed place. It is fascinating how it works. For example sandbags can be used to guide tense shoulders down and back which allows for the heart to physically open. When that occurs, your mind also opens and the feelings of happiness, of calm, are able to rise.&lt;br /&gt;If you are seeking to have a more open heart for yourself and the world around you, start with opening the physical aspects first. It will surprise you.&lt;br /&gt;If you want specific suggestions for yoga positions that may assist you with this, feel free to comment here, or send me an email.&lt;br /&gt;Namaste&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2297420559619166080?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2297420559619166080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/heavy-lifting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2297420559619166080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2297420559619166080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/heavy-lifting.html' title='Heavy lifting'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-4883715782938183583</id><published>2010-06-14T13:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-14T13:23:24.328-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tales of the City</title><content type='html'>It has been said that there is no original thought.&lt;br /&gt;I am reminded of this from time to time in the most unusual ways. Most recently, it was through Vince &amp;amp; James who mentioned upon our second meeting here in San Francisco that I was like Mary Ann Singleton, a character from author Armistead Maupin who arrived in San Francisco from the midwest in the late seventies. Upon discussion of the subject matter, I commented that it was very much like Sex &amp;amp; The City (or more properly put, S&amp;amp;TC was much like Tales of the City).&lt;br /&gt;The books had been made into a mini-series a couple of decades ago, and over the weekend and early this morning, I watched it on dvd. Laura Linney plays Mary Ann, and I could see from the first few minutes how&amp;nbsp;James &amp;amp; Vince&amp;nbsp;had&amp;nbsp;made the comparison between her character and the role I play in life. After a couple of days visiting here completely on her own, she calls home and drops everything, and just stays. All her enthusiasm cannot override the fact that she frequently looks like a deer in headlights, and I have known that feeling time and time again here. San Francsico is an interesting city in that it is&amp;nbsp;easy-going&amp;nbsp;and overwhelming simultaneously.&lt;br /&gt;She initially stays with an acquaintance (Connie Bradshaw - mmhmmm) who is quite "liberated".&amp;nbsp; Early on Connie says to Mary Ann "come on, you're new. give it time, this city loosens people up".&lt;br /&gt;Throughout the mini-series you do see Mary Ann&amp;nbsp;relax over time, and she makes some bad choices, and some surprisingly good choices as well. Makes me wonder how many of each I will make, and how much of me will "loosen up" as I live my own tales in this city.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-4883715782938183583?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/4883715782938183583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/tales-of-city.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4883715782938183583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4883715782938183583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/tales-of-city.html' title='Tales of the City'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6884543871747094117</id><published>2010-06-12T09:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T09:28:34.547-07:00</updated><title type='text'>overindulgence</title><content type='html'>I blogged a couple of days ago about doing some nice for yourself whenver possible and mentioned specifically my giving in to a cheeseburger. This Saturday morning has me considering the other side of these indulgences - when it is taken too far. My online dating is drawing to a close (I only had the stomach for one month of that) and I look back upon some of the adventures I had with it and realize that many people in this world are seeking instant gratification that may actually bring them more harm than good.&lt;br /&gt;We can start with something I did, which was to judge someone very quickly on a first date who turned out to be rather pleasant on the second. Makes me wonder if there are people out there who on first meeting write me off as not perfect for them. Sure there are.&lt;br /&gt;More serious, and dangerous though, are the people I have met who do like me, but want it all now. For example, my first internet date actually told me directly "I would love to have sex with you on a regular basis". (please, of course i did not sleep with this lurid fellow).&lt;br /&gt;Or, there is the man who feels two glasses of wine feel so good, why not the whole bottle, or two? (and we all know that the whole bottle is only a good idea when you are with people who have known you for years).&lt;br /&gt;I suppose my thoughts are thus: sometimes people are so desperate for happiness RIGHT NOW, that instead of savoring a&amp;nbsp;kiss, they push for penetration. Instead of sipping the wine, they gulp it down, instead of a few bites of cake, they eat the whole thing. They are then&amp;nbsp;often surprised and saddened by how it feels when they wake up in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;So, with the place I am in right now, my slow turtle pace, I'm not fitting in this fast lane of online matching. I hope all I have dated are able to find the happiness they seek. The one nice thing I am going to do for myself today? remove my profile from online dating. :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6884543871747094117?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6884543871747094117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/overindulgence.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6884543871747094117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6884543871747094117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/overindulgence.html' title='overindulgence'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-659172025525101756</id><published>2010-06-10T15:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-10T15:10:42.226-07:00</updated><title type='text'>don't watch your porn with the windows open</title><content type='html'>There are many little life lessons we all pick up along the way. The learning never ends.&lt;br /&gt;For example, a few days ago I decided to sample some hand cream right before my yoga class. My hands were so smooth and smelled so lovely as we began the practice, and then we flow into downward dog and my hands "flowed" straight out from under me.&lt;br /&gt;The thought to not put something slippery on the items which will be holding my&amp;nbsp;weight soon may have occured to others, but in that moment, not to me.&lt;br /&gt;I believe (or at least I am hoping) something similar to this lack of forethought is the case with one of my neighbors.&lt;br /&gt;The last couple of weeks the pigeons who had taunted me&amp;nbsp;have flown south for the summer. So I have become accustomed to actually having restful nights again. Then, last night, about eleven pm, I hear an all new kind of moaning. Screeching actually, in the way only a porn star can. I open my blinds to see if I can locate the culprit, (and ask them to cease &amp;amp; desist)&amp;nbsp;but my apartment faces many other people's windows, and nearly all of them were open to let in the summer air. The screaming seemed to be coming from all of them simultaneously.&lt;br /&gt;It took about twenty minutes or so for my neighbor to get their fill, and all I kept thinking to myself is "why didn't they realize that they should close the windows before playing their porn?". After a while I decided that we all make bad decisions sometimes, and hopefully we are able to not only giggle when things go wrong, but to remember to think through our future choices a little more. ;-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-659172025525101756?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/659172025525101756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/dont-watch-your-porn-with-windows-open.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/659172025525101756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/659172025525101756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/dont-watch-your-porn-with-windows-open.html' title='don&apos;t watch your porn with the windows open'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2159027915724818851</id><published>2010-06-09T16:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-09T16:19:54.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cherry Coke &amp; a Cheeseburger</title><content type='html'>There's a saying that you should plant your own garden instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers. Ah, flowers. We all know how much I love them. :-)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Often in life we exhaust ourselves to do all we can for others, be it at work, with our spouse/child, friends or volunteer activities...&amp;nbsp;and place ourselves last on the list. This can lead to feelings of frustration, or neglect. When our emotional and physical well is dry, we tend to&amp;nbsp;strain others by asking why they aren't doing more for us in return.&lt;br /&gt;What if though, instead of relying on your spouse, or coworkers, or friends -&amp;nbsp;or anyone for that matter -&amp;nbsp;to do something nice for you, that &lt;em&gt;you&lt;/em&gt; started doing something nice for you? It may surprise you how good it can feel.&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I had a good day. I got&amp;nbsp;encouraging news in terms of my health (50% healed!). I had an encouraging phone call with my ex, who, god bless him, seems to be there for me&amp;nbsp;now in ways he never could be before.&amp;nbsp;The weather was beautiful, and I&amp;nbsp;had been&amp;nbsp;up and knocking things out early. In the afternoon, after yoga, I was finding myself a bit worn out, and with a strong&amp;nbsp;craving for a cheeseburger. So, I took myself to lunch at a little diner that had window seats just for people who were taking themselves out to lunch. I exchanged silly text messages with my sister&amp;nbsp;who was stuck in a horrible meeting and enjoyed my momentary indulgence. I could have focused on the things that were not getting done because of my little detour, but I didn't. I went all out, not only going for the juicy rare cheeseburger, but I also ordered a shot of cherry syrup in my diet coke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That feeling of being cared for stayed with me throughout the day and got me thinking that we all should find a way, as often as we can, to turn to ourselves and say "you deserve something fun today" and follow through. You may&amp;nbsp;find that in giving yourself more, you have more to give to those around you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2159027915724818851?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2159027915724818851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/cherry-coke-cheeseburger.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2159027915724818851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2159027915724818851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/cherry-coke-cheeseburger.html' title='Cherry Coke &amp; a Cheeseburger'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-5332120855413309132</id><published>2010-06-08T14:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T15:05:41.013-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the flow of life</title><content type='html'>I believe I have mentioned on here before that I started taking yoga classes near my apartment. Unfortunately, they only offer vinyasa (flow) classes - like an ashtanga light if you will - instead of the traditional stretchy hatha I prefer.&lt;br /&gt;This of course means there is perspiring involved when I take a class (ick), as the purpose of ashtanga is to build fire within. You are flushing out all of the toxins and anxieties and replenshing with clean flow.&lt;br /&gt;All yoga has its benefits as I have outlined before, and at different times we each need different styles. Sometimes you get to pick the&amp;nbsp;style of class you take, sometimes it picks you, and sometimes&amp;nbsp;you don't realize the style you need 'till you're knee deep in it.&lt;br /&gt;Heading to my class today my mind was already quite open, and I embraced weeks ago that this is the yoga offered, so this is the yoga I shall take.&lt;br /&gt;About&amp;nbsp;thirty minutes into the class, our body temperatures were all elevated and one of my favorite teachers was there to lead us. Feeling our struggle to push through, she&amp;nbsp;said "what do you do when things heat up in your life?"... "you do not fight, you do not flee, instead, you BE within the resistance".&lt;br /&gt;I have had variations of this phrase told to me several times&amp;nbsp;before - especially when studying Ashtanga in Thailand, but it felt great to hear it in that moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is said that as a yogi you return to the mat again and again to remember that which you have forgotten. Today, I remembered. I did not fight, I did not flee, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and celebrated that I can just be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-5332120855413309132?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/5332120855413309132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/flow-of-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5332120855413309132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5332120855413309132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/flow-of-life.html' title='the flow of life'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6931751858810280804</id><published>2010-06-08T08:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T08:15:28.430-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How much am I worth?</title><content type='html'>Very few of us have not had job searches in our life, and one of the hardest questions to answer is "how much am I worth?"&lt;br /&gt;Women especially have a difficult time asking for larger salaries (and receiving them). Often we have this feeling of being honored to be hired at all, and glad to be able to help, etc. Problem is, this can translate to selling ourselves short and feeling frustrated down the line.&lt;br /&gt;In a recent interview&amp;nbsp;when&amp;nbsp;the salary&amp;nbsp;was mentioned&amp;nbsp;my mind thought "do&amp;nbsp;you see I went to college for seven years?" "Seven. And I paid a lot of money that someone has to pay back."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting private practice in a new city is daunting, and I thought perhaps a part-time gig to supplement would help me get my footing. Several problems though: 1. Social services has never made anyone rich. They are famous for low salaries and 2. Giving away my time for less than most high school grads can get waiting tables really makes me reflect on whether or not it is the best idea to love my job. It may be a better idea to be earning in my job.&lt;br /&gt;It's a tough call nearly all of us have had to make. Do we give in to the terror of the news that tells us there are no jobs so take anything you can? Or do we hold strong and hold out knowing we are worth more?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6931751858810280804?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6931751858810280804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/how-much-am-i-worth.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6931751858810280804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6931751858810280804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/how-much-am-i-worth.html' title='How much am I worth?'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3753098088563483333</id><published>2010-06-07T11:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T11:34:43.078-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Laughter is the best medicine</title><content type='html'>There is a bit of a fad in some cities of "laughing" yoga classes where you create laughter to help healing and become more centered. I have not yet taken one of these classes, but I do see their merit.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes in life surprises (often not&amp;nbsp;good) can hit you out of nowhere. I attended a lovely brunch recently and on the drive there I was describing an odd and difficult situation and my new friend James made a joke about it. It felt good. Because it is true, life is absurd, and you have to find the humor in it all before you take it all too seriously.&lt;br /&gt;Life isn't about learning to survive the storm, it is about learning to dance in the rain.&lt;br /&gt;When it is hardest to laugh, is when you need it the most, even if you have to force it to come to the surface and break through the sadness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3753098088563483333?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3753098088563483333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/laughter-is-best-medicine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3753098088563483333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3753098088563483333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/laughter-is-best-medicine.html' title='Laughter is the best medicine'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-1884934165410184671</id><published>2010-06-06T09:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T09:51:29.544-07:00</updated><title type='text'>books &amp; covers &amp; other life surprises</title><content type='html'>It has been an interesting couple of days with my "new approach" to life. I had a second date from the internet that I really didn't think would happen from the first meeting. After several cups of tea, we had gone walking around and I made a comment that he seemed to think was odd, but we kept walking (he didn't flee) and I thought, if he asks out again, I'd go - just because of that one odd moment. Even though some of our conversation did not connect, something must have connected, because yep, we went out again. This next time felt so much more comfortable. Was I seeing him differently now that I am trying my slow, breathing approach to life or did I really just miss something the first time? Either way, I am waiting a week before thinking about another date, because I need to be genuine with this attempt to try things at a slow pace.&lt;br /&gt;I have noticed that I had set many things in order in terms of the universe and my panicked pace that I now how to re-evaluate. For example, I had a phone interview for a part-time position last week (and an in person interview on Monday) for a therapist position with the following hours: Thursday morning midnight to eight am. Friday 3 pm to midnight. Saturday 3pm to midnight. I would lose a lot of time outside of these three days because of the odd sleeping hours I would have to adjust to. Even those would not be consistent - sometimes I would have to sleep all day, other times I would be sleeping in the afternoon? My first instinct would be - take it - even though it would prevent a stab at private practice, and a social life, because it would add some level of stability and direction. My new instinct tells me to not make any sudden movements.&lt;br /&gt;I am going on that interview just to see, because sometimes things (or people) deserve a second look. The good thing about my new approach is that I can put my toes in the water, without having to dive all the way in at any given moment. I can take a moment to step back from any choice or situation and really evaluate if it is in line with what I am trying to do with my life at this moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-1884934165410184671?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/1884934165410184671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/books-covers-other-life-surprises.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1884934165410184671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/1884934165410184671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/books-covers-other-life-surprises.html' title='books &amp; covers &amp; other life surprises'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-6506582129990928840</id><published>2010-06-03T14:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T14:04:31.039-07:00</updated><title type='text'>speeding</title><content type='html'>I mentioned in a previous post that I physically broke down a week ago today. Less than&amp;nbsp;24 hours after that I had my sister and nephew here for a long weekend visit. Then first thing Tuesday morning had two hours of physical therapy. I was supposed to have one of my internet dates that evening, but I had no choice but to cancel. My body once again forced rest, so I gave in, until this morning when I decided I was going to yoga. A strange thing happened when I began to dress though. My mind, my body, everything seemed to plead with me, please, no, let's not start this again.&lt;br /&gt;I took some time to reflect on why this was happening and one thought led to another and I realized that&amp;nbsp;I have had&amp;nbsp;only one speed - and it was been way over the limit.&lt;br /&gt;I cannot remember a time prior to 2010 when I was not on a board, usually more than one, and volunteering in various ways on top of those, and with the exception of a couple of months in 2004, working as well. In addition, I spent several years taking care of another person while he focused on career. I did not (do not?)&amp;nbsp;believe I was worth anything unless I was giving everything.&lt;br /&gt;I suppose this need to go nonstop, to be an overachiever started very young. I juggled many extra-cirricular things even as a child, heck, I founded my county's young republican group when I was thirteen. I was in DC on Capitol Hill at seventeen. I suppose I could blame really bad parenting. I suppose lack of love led to me proving I could be loved, needed, important. But, thanks to termination of parental rights, I have now lived longer without bad parenting than I ever did with. So, I must take responsibility for the speed at which I lived.&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that even now, where no one even knows me so there is no possibility of asking me to lead or give&amp;nbsp;a thing, I need to keep adding spinning plates to my act?&lt;br /&gt;I reflected on the fact that within five months I have been in several states and two countries. I rushed to get myself moved into San Francisco after a&amp;nbsp;quick turn around in destination in March&amp;nbsp;- perhaps too quickly for now I wish I had chosen an apartment closer to the bay,&amp;nbsp;and that only adds to my current to-do list. I rushed into surgery which caused me to be barely able to move, and unable to even walk, for a month. Then, when walking seemed possible, I decide I will walk miles each day. That wouldn't be enough though...&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;added vinyasa yoga to the mix.&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;built a website &amp;amp; ordered business cards. I had meetings about starting my practice. I&amp;nbsp;began dating. Sure, I say&amp;nbsp;last week, I&amp;nbsp;can add&amp;nbsp;fourteen sessions of painful physical therapy to all of this. Oh, and I&amp;nbsp;applied for part time jobs so I can get out there and make friends. And, I need to start that book I've been thinking of writing. And, I still have those french cd's that need to be studied. And there is the contents of those last two damn boxes that have found themselves in piles to be unloaded throughout my apartment. And I need to get those boots repaired, and my hair done, and I am itching to get out of the country (it has been more than three months already!) And. And. And.&lt;br /&gt;No wonder my inner self and my physical body is gun shy about something as simple as a yoga class. It is not yet ready to take on regular life full time just yet, let alone life at my speed. I don't know how to do this though. I mentioned on the phone to my ex just a couple of days ago that I feel so ashamed. I feel like I am not accomplishing anything at the rate I should be, that I am letting people down. &lt;br /&gt;This is a lesson I need to learn though, to let people down...no...if I am being truly honest, I must learn to let me down. So many choices in my life have been&amp;nbsp;justified in that they&amp;nbsp;earn the respect of people I value. What I learned over the last couple of years though is that often&amp;nbsp;I have been loved in spite of my&amp;nbsp;speed,&amp;nbsp;not because of it. &lt;br /&gt;I had a lunch a few months ago with Brian &amp;amp; Zach (the&amp;nbsp;absolute best people in my life). They were staging an "intervention" if you will, and they begged me gently to not pick up and move, but instead stay, and breathe. &lt;br /&gt;I couldn't understand then what life has forced me to see now. I&amp;nbsp;am in a position where I must&amp;nbsp;take life off of the&amp;nbsp;Autobahn and onto the side streets. I am starting to get it, and it scares me. I truly do not know how to do this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-6506582129990928840?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/6506582129990928840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/speeding.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6506582129990928840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/6506582129990928840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/speeding.html' title='speeding'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3552720227048297513</id><published>2010-06-03T03:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T03:51:05.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Blessings of the Fog</title><content type='html'>I woke up just over an hour ago with an ache in my heart. That happens sometimes. I had spoken earlier in the day with someone I have longed to see for quite some time and learned that our getting together will not occur as soon as I had hoped.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not big on television, and while it helps at times with the lifelong relationship I have with insomnia, it was no help this morning.&lt;br /&gt;The one thing that two grand a month in rent can buy&amp;nbsp;in this town is a higher level of safety, so I decide to take a walk and drop some items in a mailbox. I layer up and head out into the darkness. As summer approaches this city, an incredibly wonderful phenomenon occurs - the fog begins to roll in. The fluffy white clouds surround everything early&amp;nbsp;in the morning, and makes it impossible to see more than a few blocks in front of you. Part of me missed seeing the bay, but another part of me found something incredibly beautiful in this "misty" morning. &lt;br /&gt;There are times that not knowing exactly what is&amp;nbsp;up ahead&amp;nbsp;of you can be comforting. It forces you to focus on what is directly in your view, and see the sparkling crystals that linger in the air.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3552720227048297513?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3552720227048297513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/blessings-of-fog.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3552720227048297513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3552720227048297513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/blessings-of-fog.html' title='The Blessings of the Fog'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-8645706500052225024</id><published>2010-06-02T16:15:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-02T16:16:51.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>100 Posts</title><content type='html'>"I don't know where I'm going, but I sure know where I've been"&lt;br /&gt;-Whitesnake&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to my dashboard this is my 100th post. Shocking. When I started this in late January, I would not have imagined I would have 100 things to say - and I certainly could not have imagined the twists and turns of the past&amp;nbsp;four months. I still find this format odd - like stapling pages of a journal on a city lightpost. I have no idea who reads this, or why, and how it affects them.&lt;br /&gt;I can say that I am frequently taken by surprise by the private emails I receive, and the virtual friends I make. I am also surprised by the posts that illicit response. Often I will think to myself hours later "that was stupid" and go back to delete something only to find that that particular post has already received responses. So, I leave it. I actually have not deleted or edited anything yet, and I suppose that is why. A public forum is exactly that, public, and while I start the conversation, it is open to anyone to add to it.&lt;br /&gt;A wonderful "virtual friend" sent me an email a couple of weeks ago in which she told me that there has been a shift in my writing's voice, and that does not surprise me, because I am feeling a shift in me as well. I'm not sure which direction that shift will have me facing once it is complete, but the movement within me has certainly begun - be it by hook or crook or twist of fate.&lt;br /&gt;Just over two years ago I began deconstructing everything in my life because of a deep longing inside of me. Over that time I have upped the ante again and again, literally taking myself physically and emotionally to places I never imagined or dared to&amp;nbsp;go before. Many times I stumble or fall; but at least I have the stories to tell -&amp;nbsp;and frequent flyer miles to cash in. &lt;br /&gt;My last bout of russian roulette if you will, has landed me in San Francisco. There are moments I experience true fear that I may have gone too far this time. I will not know until it is done. In the meantime all I can do is keep living and thinking and writing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-8645706500052225024?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/8645706500052225024/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/100-posts.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8645706500052225024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8645706500052225024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/100-posts.html' title='100 Posts'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2474941924219010531</id><published>2010-06-01T20:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T15:01:59.655-07:00</updated><title type='text'>fancy</title><content type='html'>Although I so very often like to play the game of life by my own rules, there are moments when I must realize that although I am playing this game, it is not fully my game; society long ago created the parameters and if I don't eventually make a permanent slot on the team, I will be forced deeper and deeper into the sidelines.&lt;br /&gt;We are all aware of the articles that say a woman has a higher chance of getting hit by lightening or killed by a terrorist than getting married from 35 on. Ten, fifteen, years ago those numbers didn't affect me. I was in great relationships with wonderful men, and I just happened to not yet know myself well enough to commit to the intense sanctity of marriage. I figured i had plenty of time to find the truly right one.&amp;nbsp;Those statistics&amp;nbsp;would fluctuate, and when I reached the place that I was ready for marriage, "he" would come along. "he" who had also spent some time really living life and figuring out who he was, and "he" too was now ready to give this marriage thing a shot Marriage on our terms, bending the rules to fit us.&lt;br /&gt;I have not sat idly by waiting for him to show up on my doorstep. I traveled the country and the world searching for him, heck even moved to San Francisco because "he" as I imagine him to be would love it here. So, here I am, Waiting for him to rescue me in his white horse (or car). I am ready with interesting stories and witty comments, and an open heart to loving deeply.&lt;br /&gt;Each day that I go out to run errands I feel badly about dressing in the standard SF uniform (workout clothes, sweaters, walking shoes). I hear Reba Macentire ringing in my ears: clean yourself up girl...go out there and land him...&amp;nbsp;"fancy this is your one chance, don't let me down".&lt;br /&gt;It is difficult for me to find complete success in this search. If I am looking for a man to please me in bed every night, I have plenty of offers (and I am grateful), if I want a man to support me financially, those options are there,&amp;nbsp;but I want more than the passion, and ownership. I want a connection, an understanding that no one else can even make sense of but it comforts us in the ways we need it to.&lt;br /&gt;I had the chance to meet Gloria Steinum years ago and wow, that conversation would have gone so differently if she and I had the chance to chat today. I have but one friend who is married and childfree by choice but she and I have not been able to connect in person in a decade. I know what I am in for if I get myself down the aisle by any means necessary. I know the struggles and concessions I must make to do that and I know how they have effected many women, and may just break my heart completely. What I do not know is how it is to live on the other side - those who did not marry (those I know who did not marry cannot because of a silly law) or the couples who married but did not have children. I would love to hear their sides to know if I should&amp;nbsp;finally climb down from my high expectations and one day agree to go out one night in my best dress, and take a turn at&amp;nbsp;being a true team player before I am benched for good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2474941924219010531?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2474941924219010531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/fancy.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2474941924219010531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2474941924219010531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/06/fancy.html' title='fancy'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-5905824633858050612</id><published>2010-05-31T20:50:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-31T20:50:27.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Starting at the End</title><content type='html'>One thing that happens when we undertake a big move and sort through so many memories is the realization of who we are versus who we were.&lt;br /&gt;There have been many cliches and sayings coined about thoughts that occur at the end of one's life and/or "if I had known then what I know now".&lt;br /&gt;I frequently, especially when stuck in a difficult choice, try to see the situation from the end of my life. How will I reflect back upon this moment? How will it look with decades of distance?&lt;br /&gt;In remembering how fragile life will appear when we know we are at the end of it, today's decisions can seem much more simple, and risks are less risky, and more about embracing the adventure.&lt;br /&gt;Welcome back everyone :) I hope you had a great holiday weekend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-5905824633858050612?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/5905824633858050612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/starting-at-end.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5905824633858050612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5905824633858050612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/starting-at-end.html' title='Starting at the End'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-5968062538288704511</id><published>2010-05-28T11:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-28T11:49:28.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>coming down from the mountaintop</title><content type='html'>There is a technique learned by yogis in which they stop breathing. It is not holding your breath, it is ceasing to breathe all together. When I was studying in Indonesia, I would use it all the time because I so loved the rush that came with it. It helped to keep me energized and focused, and completely within myself.&lt;br /&gt;My teacher sat me down one day wanting to talk about yoga "in the real world" - not in those breathless moments. We discussed how some yogis can take it all too far, moving so deeply within themselves that they are unable to be successful in the outside, among society. Interpersonal relationships can be difficult to maintain, and making a living is also a struggle. Originally yoga was practiced by gurus and monks who out of choice or necessity lived in caves, on mountaintops, in isolation. Yoga offered them fulfillment relying upon themselves. Their basic needs of food and shelter were pieced together by nature or by donation. The early yogis could not have imagined a world of constant stimulation, global economy, modern day socialization. And, one cannot be a part of this modern world and&amp;nbsp;be "all yoga all the time".&lt;br /&gt;I am not living in a cave, and although I have chosen an apartment high on the hill, I am not isolated on this moutaintop. I want to be successful not only within my mind and body but also within the society that surrounds it. So, this weekend the practice will be set aside, and I will immerse myself in my sister and nephew's visit. I'm really looking forward to coming down from the moutaintop for a bit&amp;nbsp;and immersing myself in the outside world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-5968062538288704511?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/5968062538288704511/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/coming-down-from-mountaintop.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5968062538288704511'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5968062538288704511'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/coming-down-from-mountaintop.html' title='coming down from the mountaintop'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-9015186782559858903</id><published>2010-05-27T22:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-27T22:23:00.632-07:00</updated><title type='text'>enough</title><content type='html'>Had another two hour "magic" session at doctors office today. His associate who performs it starts the morning by telling me that her dog recently got neutered. She talked about how his ears droop now when they used to sit straight up all the time, he cannot sleep,&amp;nbsp;he is listless, and he is so sad. He keeps looking at her and her husband as though he had been bad and now they are punishing him. She said it feels like&amp;nbsp;he is constantly trying to say "I'm sorry".&amp;nbsp;When they have return visits to the vet he whimpers just at the site of the office.&lt;br /&gt;"You must feel that way" she said. "What do you mean?" I ask and she said "you must hate every inch of this office. You must hate the sight of any of us. Three times a week you are here and you know each time that there wll be more pain. And, you look at me with the same sad eyes my dog does".&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, I said, but for me it is different than your dear puppy. I brought myself here to begin with. I know that these appointments hurt, but I come back because one day they will stop hurting, and&amp;nbsp;many days&amp;nbsp;after that everything will stop hurting...and without the appointments that cannot happen. &lt;br /&gt;I'm quiet for a bit and then get a bit more honest. I tell her of how sometimes it takes me an hour to walk there just to delay the destination, that&amp;nbsp;I feel deep&amp;nbsp;physical fear when I get off the elevator. How I hide in the bathroom before each appointment getting my courage up. I tell her about the one and only day I was late for an appointment was because I had collapsed mere feet from the door and it took me twenty minutes to get the strength to get up and walk through it.&lt;br /&gt;I complete the treatment and walk two miles home, grab my yoga mat and head to class. About forty minutes in, my body is done. just done. it had had enough.&amp;nbsp;I collapse myself down and hide the tears with my eye pillow. Thank God for Allie, my Tuesday Thursday teacher and also a registered nurse. She always seems to do everything right (she is aware of my circumstance). She keeps leading the class verbally and comes over and begins touching me ever so gently, helping the tension to ease, helping me know that in this moment I am not alone, and the tears flow. I try to get up at one point to rejoin the class&amp;nbsp;and she said "it is enough misty. listen to your body, allow it to have presence in your mind... it is enough". And she left me there to cry it out privately.&lt;br /&gt;After four miles of walking, two hours of treatment and 2/3 yoga class, there was just nothing left, and what I had given in terms of effort was enough. Perhaps too much. I spent the afternoon nauseated and exhausted and began to reflect. The universe gives you what you ask for. It gives back what you give out. When you desire something deeply and with pure heart, it delivers completely.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps, just perhaps, when I sent out to the universe&amp;nbsp;a pure desire to completely deconstruct who I am and rebuild myself on solid ground that the universe took this truly to the core. Perhaps somehow a full physical breakdown was necessary for me to reach the emotional and spiritual levels I seek. I have had to fully break down in order to be built back up in San Francisco.&amp;nbsp;If that is true, then I really have to stop being so hard on myself, so competitive with who I "should" be. I need to stop forcing physical movement and instead ease into it, love my body with its wounds instead of hating their existence. As I mentioned in earlier posts, I don't heal well. I have a long history of that in many ways. So, although it may be frustrating and it makes a mess of my financial, social and career calendars, if I really want to achieve my authentic self then I must start with myself and the wounds that are presenting themselves.I need to embrace and love&amp;nbsp;who I am in this moment, bruises, blood cells, scar tissue and all. &amp;nbsp;My body and mind have had enough resistance and pressure.&amp;nbsp;My selfish inner need to succeed is not stronger than they are -&amp;nbsp;and they prove it every day.&lt;br /&gt;I am gaining something from all of this. Gaining new insight and approaches. And, also knowing completely that it is true that the world gives you what you ask for purely - maybe not in the way you had imagined, but in the way that you need to truly gain the benefit. Like Buddha - you must lose it all to gain it all. And I must be present and mindful for this part of my journey - not the fantasy of the journey I will be on in six months, but the reality of this journey, of these steps, of the loss that has come and will continue to come until there is nothing left - and&amp;nbsp;be ever so mindful of&amp;nbsp;who I am as I take each step.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-9015186782559858903?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/9015186782559858903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/enough.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9015186782559858903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9015186782559858903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/enough.html' title='enough'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-8768827288894481164</id><published>2010-05-26T14:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T14:41:27.257-07:00</updated><title type='text'>two boxes</title><content type='html'>My sister and her family are coming for the holiday weekend. She was here a month ago to unpack my apartment. You may recall those posts. It's a strange situation, my sister and I. We have only really known each other for the last three years, and I believe for her one of the hardest parts of getting to know me is my sentimental attachment to things. She slaved and barely slept on her last visit here and at the end of it she had left only two boxes untouched. She seemed astonished by their contents. "These two boxes are filled with papers!?" Yep, they were. Lots of iteneraries from past travels. Notes to myself. Unopened mail. Opened mail.&amp;nbsp;Articles I meant to read or had read but didn't want to forget. Cards, letters, notes from people I love(d). Those two boxes contained a lot of memories and their contents had been accumulating for years prior to being shoved together and traveling with me here.&lt;br /&gt;My sister is a tough gal. Sometimes she just plain scares me.&amp;nbsp;Unfortunately my&amp;nbsp;friends are always talking about how great she is whenever I turn to them for sympathy. They seem to think she is just what I need. (damn gay men, they always love a strong woman)&lt;br /&gt;It is the fear she instills in me that led me to devote today to unpacking those two boxes. I just cannot face the disappointment of her returning and my not having that done. She can do an entire apartment in 24 hours for goodness sakes I have had a month to knock out two boxes. So, I have been alternating percocet and red bull (to tackle my physical limitations) and going through piece by piece. I fall apart every now and again - a picture from Peru, a note sent to Indonesia. I quickly toss as much as possible into the fire I have lit. Part of me wants to just shove all this into a drawer or under the sofa. No doubt way too much of it will end up there, I cannot get through all of this in one day. But, I realize that this is part of my current struggle. For years I have taken the things that are emotionally&amp;nbsp;difficult&amp;nbsp;to sort through (both happy and sad) and shoved them in a dark hidden corner to be dealt with "later". I then&amp;nbsp;allow myself to get caught up in distractions so I forget it is all there.&lt;br /&gt;If my intention with this move is to truly understand who I am, to truly find my bliss, I cannot keep shoving things in. There just isn't any more room. I will have to clear out a lot of this clutter to allow space for the new memories, the new people, the new feelings, to come in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-8768827288894481164?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/8768827288894481164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/two-boxes.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8768827288894481164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/8768827288894481164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/two-boxes.html' title='two boxes'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3080341444387008929</id><published>2010-05-26T10:55:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T21:48:35.851-07:00</updated><title type='text'>misfit toys</title><content type='html'>On Sunday I had tea with a new friend here in San Francisco. We were chatting about internet dating and the people who make up this area in general. He had been raised here, then college in New England, then a few years in LA before returning to SF. He is very smart- america told him so when he finished harvard law ;) anyway...He told me that a lot of people here in San Francisco are socially awkward. He said that people come here for all sorts of reasons, but there are often common threads: dettachment from family, not seeking a "normal" relationship (married in 20s 2.5 kids by 30s), or, mostly, because they just didn't fit in where they came from, they escaped to here. Bottom line is many people move here because they are seeking to fulfill a void in their life that could not be done "back home" with those cultural limitations. There is a freedom here, being surrounded by fellow freaks &amp; geeks.&lt;br /&gt;My conversation with him reminded me of a post I had done while in India. I had been sitting around this eclectic group of global travelers and realized that no matter how "outside" I felt, at my core I was one of them. I chose and paid for what many would consider an odd experience. So how could I not place myself within this odd group? I was not an observer, I was a welcome participant &lt;br /&gt;The conversations I have had about the people of San Francisco has made me come to think of the bay area as the island of misfit toys. Each are broken or mislabeled in some way, but they all want the opportunity to give and receive joy.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps those that have told me "misty you will love San Francisco" realized something that I did not know. In this city you can be, do, wear, what you want. With that approach I have a world of freedom to be exactly who and how I want to be. &lt;br /&gt;Now the hard part begins. Im in a city that will take whatever i offer up  -but what do i offer? Who am I truly, and who have I been trained to be?&lt;br /&gt;I am going to learn to be okay with letting this process take the time it needs, the time I need, to make the right decisions, the pure and true decisions that living in this city allows me to make.&lt;br /&gt;Now that I can get our there and mingle in the city, I will, and I will learn what is right for me and what I should steer away from. A bit of an anthropological or sociological study. The comfort of knowing this is very "normal" behavior in sf givesme a bit of comfort that yes, if I stand strong enough, if I am brave enough, this city couldvery well be one of my first truly good decisions in years. I am a misfit toy, and I have come to join the flock&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3080341444387008929?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3080341444387008929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/misfit-toys.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3080341444387008929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3080341444387008929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/misfit-toys.html' title='misfit toys'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3557859321596286899</id><published>2010-05-26T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-26T10:00:01.916-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hope</title><content type='html'>Early last week I had another heart to heart with my doctor. As I mentioned previously, I have been doing everything I can (and differently) in an attempt to heal. It was time he offered me a new approach on his end. I made him stop and really look at the damage, and once he saw it, really saw it (and saw that it wasn't going away on its own), he referred me to a colleague in his office who could offer various&amp;nbsp;machine based&amp;nbsp;"treatments" to help ease the pain, swelling,&amp;nbsp;and scar tissue. Of course this means two things: more doctor time and more money. But, I have to get well, and am open to trying just about anything.&lt;br /&gt;Thursday I met with her. I stripped down naked and she looked me over. Several times she stopped and would point out a spot and say "this is an area of concern". In&amp;nbsp;a rush to get on with this magic treatment, I speed it up and twist a bit and show her where &lt;strong&gt;I&lt;/strong&gt; am most concerned. Her eyes squinted and she said "I have never seen anything like that". She rotates me in different angles, touching various parts, literally aghast. "That must hurt like hell" she said. &lt;br /&gt;I felt the need to make her comfortable, and tried to be upbeat. "Yep" I said "sometimes the pain is intense to the point&amp;nbsp;I lose all feeling, sometimes I faint, sometimes I throw up...but I promise today I won't do any of those things if you'll fix me" and I laugh a little.&lt;br /&gt;She pauses. Not speaking, not doing, just pausing. &lt;br /&gt;I keep&amp;nbsp;talking "Dr. -- said this will really help the pain - will get that scar tissue to break up". I keep smiling. All will be well, all will be better! Just get me up there and fix me! :-)&amp;nbsp;She then says to me "I told you I have never seen this before. I have been here more than five years. I worked&amp;nbsp;with other doctors before Dr. --. If I have never&amp;nbsp;seen this, neither has he".&lt;br /&gt;Now we both pause. My heart stopped for a couple of beats, and I dug deep and then looked her straight in the eye. "Okay. You have never seen this before. I have never seen this before. And, now I know Dr. -- has never seen this before. So, we are all going on blind faith here. But, that makes it even more important. I NEED this to work."&lt;br /&gt;She got it. She smiles (thank God she took that over for me because I just couldn't anymore). "Let's get started" she said&amp;nbsp;and with that she helped me onto the "magic table" and turned on the "magic machines", and&amp;nbsp;I began what will be at least a month of "aggressive treatment". I am going to heal I just know it - it may not be on my timeline, but once it happens it will be long lasting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3557859321596286899?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3557859321596286899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/hope.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3557859321596286899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3557859321596286899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/hope.html' title='hope'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-4497543061501483957</id><published>2010-05-24T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T21:14:40.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch 22</title><content type='html'>"There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's own safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he was crazy and didn't have to; but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to."&amp;nbsp; -Joseph Heller&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I was walking along Van Ness street. It is a major street here in San Francisco - six lanes of traffic taking you from one side of the city all the way to the bay. I had been crying after reading an email&amp;nbsp;that I had not expected from someone&amp;nbsp;who is trying his best to understand, and I love him&amp;nbsp;for it, but I felt ashamed that I could not yet offer answers.&amp;nbsp;I was waiting for the walk signal and saw a bus speeding up the hill. "You could make this all stop right now" went through my mind. By "this all" I meant everything - truly, literally, everything. I could take two steps off the curb and that bus could make it all...all of me...stop.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No need for panic here. I am not suicidal, and technically, I am not even crazy. It is a complicated understanding in the field of psychology - when one questions their sanity, they are not insane. Hence my reference to author Joseph Heller at the beginning of this post. The human mind - so complicated and yet so simple.&lt;br /&gt;That moment this morning when I&amp;nbsp;recognized my&amp;nbsp;choice&amp;nbsp;was a moment in which I was reminded of what is the most important thing for all of us to keep in mind - the control of&amp;nbsp;our mortality. People love to say "you are never given more than you can handle" or quotes to that effect, but that is b.s. People kill themselves every day. It may not be as severe as stepping in front of a bus, it could be a slow death of drugs or abuse, or any number of things. Those people have more than they can handle; and many of us, each and every day, surprise ourselves by handling more than&amp;nbsp;we ever imagined&amp;nbsp;we could.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I waited for that walk sign, obviously, and went forth with a sense of confidence and freedom. My struggles may seem overwhelming at times, but I am handling them. On my way home, although I have a hundred other things I "should" be doing, I took the long way home - the &lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;really&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt; long way - and just observed myself, and the environment I have placed myself in, and tried to feel proud, to feel loved. I may have no real idea of what is the "right" thing to do right now. But, given the choice to make it all stop...&lt;br /&gt;or just wait those few moments for the light to change...&lt;br /&gt;I would rather wait.&lt;br /&gt;For this day I truly chose to live. &lt;br /&gt;Life has been too wonderfully, painfully, interesting -&amp;nbsp;and excitingly wonderful -&amp;nbsp;for me to give up on it just yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-4497543061501483957?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/4497543061501483957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/catch-22.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4497543061501483957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/4497543061501483957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/catch-22.html' title='Catch 22'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-650920083644756932</id><published>2010-05-24T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T08:36:44.340-07:00</updated><title type='text'>subliminal messages</title><content type='html'>I like independent films. It seems if everyone in the world really likes a movie, I tend to not get what all the hype is about. There have also been plenty of times that a movie is panned, such as Remember Me, and I love it. So, in order to avoid having to hear a lot of other people's opinions, I tend to gravitate towards lesser known films. It was a search for one of those movies that got me thinking about subliminal messages.&lt;br /&gt;The movie is called Babies. It is a documentary about babies living all over the world. I like babies. I have traveled all over the world. I would probably enjoy spending a couple of hours watching babies all over the world. So, I look it up on blockbuster to rent it. They do not carry the title, but what surprised me was what came up in the search results which I will copy verbatim here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Results for:&lt;/strong&gt; babies &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Themes:&lt;/strong&gt; High School Life, Crumbling Marriages, Prostitutes, Self-Destructive Romance, Foibles of Marriage &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. While I have never desired having my own full time baby, goodness, even I could not come up with a list as terrifying as&amp;nbsp;this to state why. Not one positive mention of any joys that might come along with babies. It just made me think. Blockbuster is a huge company who pays plenty of money to people to build a website that will take you to the movie you would like to see. So, did we, as a movie searching society, create this list of themes around babies? Is this what is "below the threshold of consciousness" when we think of babies?&lt;br /&gt;Of course, this is a passing thought. Bigger fish to fry with my day. I just found it interesting and worth a moment to ponder.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-650920083644756932?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/650920083644756932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/subliminal-messages.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/650920083644756932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/650920083644756932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/subliminal-messages.html' title='subliminal messages'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-3764446835938952397</id><published>2010-05-23T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-23T10:54:18.513-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Sensitive"</title><content type='html'>Okay, in my efforts to recover from yesterday, I woke up this morning deciding I am going to look at the entire experience from a new angle. Perhaps my date yesterday was not trying to scare the hell out of me, perhaps he is just "sensitive". I have heard of these sensitive men, and maybe this was my first experience with one.&lt;br /&gt;I know what you're thinking - how does a gal with gay friends not have experience with sensitive men? Well, my gay friends aren't all that sensitive. ;-) (I mean that)&lt;br /&gt;People are different here in California, you hear it all the time - people make jokes about&amp;nbsp;tofu and hippies. Maybe this guy was not trying to make me feel badly, but was instead letting me know that he recognizes the challenges my current life brings. Perhaps it was the pressure of meeting someone new that led him to not have the right approach in his sympathy/empathy. Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe is&amp;nbsp;enough for me though. &lt;br /&gt;Maybe is what got me out here. &lt;br /&gt;So, I am going to approach today as a new day (and a new date), and try to keep myself, and my beliefs on why I am doing this, intact.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-3764446835938952397?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/3764446835938952397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/sensitive.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3764446835938952397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/3764446835938952397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/sensitive.html' title='&quot;Sensitive&quot;'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-2023867564100446970</id><published>2010-05-22T14:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-08T21:09:41.530-07:00</updated><title type='text'>deflated</title><content type='html'>There have been studies that show depression can be "contagious" - it can bring the spirits down of those who are connected to someone who is depressed whenever they have contact. I strongly believe this to be true, controversial or not, and as a result, I do my darndest to have an environment and social circles which are positive and uplifting. The last thing I need is more self doubt or insecurity. Unfortunately, I caught a bit of "sad" from someone today and I sure hope I can sleep it off tonight.&lt;br /&gt;I spent my lunchtime&amp;nbsp;today having the wind completely removed from my sails. Went on internet date two, and it actually made me miss internet date one (which was another experience entirely). He did nearly all of the talking, which actually is good. I don't particularly like talking about myself. Problem is, I felt his sadness, and after more than an hour of absorbing it;&amp;nbsp;near the end of the date, I let him turn it to me. He asked about how I ended up in San Francisco and I very briefly mentioned I wanted to change my life, to start fresh, the usual stuff, keeping it light. He then repeatedly stated aloud that he could never do anything like that. He said "people fantasize about doing something like that, but they don't do it". Mmmhmmm I reply, hoping to move on from the subject,&amp;nbsp;but he kept going..."it would be SO HARD... you must be SO LONELY... it would just be impossible to completely start over somewhere&amp;nbsp;all alone&amp;nbsp;- no friends, no family, no security of any kind...I could never endure something so difficult..." again and again he made it feel as though&amp;nbsp;waterboarding would be an easier option than the choice I have made.&lt;br /&gt;Halfway through my walk home, the tears were flowing. It took me a few blocks to pull myself together and realize the irony of this encounter was that at the end of the date he asked me if I would like to see a comedy show sometime. I'm not kidding.&lt;br /&gt;I'm just not sure what to do or feel after today's experience. Like I said, I'm going to try to take it easy on myself today and sleep off the sad that I have caught before it becomes a full blown illness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-2023867564100446970?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/2023867564100446970/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/deflated.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2023867564100446970'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/2023867564100446970'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/deflated.html' title='deflated'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-5823792734273393194</id><published>2010-05-20T16:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T16:53:37.736-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Strangers</title><content type='html'>When we are young, we are taught to never get in a car with a stranger. Perhaps this is why cabs have always troubled me - you are getting in a car with a stranger, often in an area where you do not know your way around, and trusting they will actually take you to your destination safely.&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I have my first internet date, (reference the pigeons from last week),&amp;nbsp;and it just keeps echoing in my mind: "I am about to interact with a stranger". I am about to spend a couple of hours with someone who knows I am new and alone in this city. Beyond the obvious physical risks of such an undertaking, which I am trying to not focus upon,&amp;nbsp;is the risk that it is just an uncomfortable pairing. Tonight's stranger happens to be of Indian descent. Do I mention that I was once detained by the military in his native country? Well, it's me, so I probably won't be able to keep myself from letting that slip :-) Will he get my sense of humour, my take on the world around me or will he just see me as an international criminal? On the flipside, I have had enough Indian men grope me against my will&amp;nbsp;to last a lifetime, so I hope he has been here long enough to be aware of the cultural norms of my native country.&lt;br /&gt;That's the thing with people&amp;nbsp;isn't it?&amp;nbsp;I must&amp;nbsp;approach this stranger with the same open mind and honesty that I hope he affords me. I would never want to be stuck in a box of categorizations, stereotypes, and generalizations. And,&amp;nbsp;I do&amp;nbsp;want to&amp;nbsp;connect with others&amp;nbsp;in my new location. So, in order to do that, I must meet strangers, and hope that a few of them eventually become friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-5823792734273393194?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/5823792734273393194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/strangers.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5823792734273393194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/5823792734273393194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/strangers.html' title='Strangers'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-9046419257545992516</id><published>2010-05-20T12:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-20T12:29:04.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>failing</title><content type='html'>My sister sent me an article a few days ago about allowing ourselves to fail. Admittedly, I have a difficult time with risk because of the fear of failure. What I have been pondering lately though is what is true failure. Some say failing is never having tried at all. Well, if that's the case, I'm succeeding by leaps and bounds I suppose. I am certainly not living the unexamined life. Socrates would be proud.&lt;br /&gt;Measuring success is a formula filled with doubt for most of us. We look at what we have accomplished then quickly consider what we have not, or what we had wanted to accomplish&amp;nbsp;and instead we only made "bad" choices.&lt;br /&gt;In my mind, I had imagined that by June I would be bursting with success here in San Francisco. In reality, I spent my first month here barely able to walk. This creates a crossroads in approaching life. Do I focus on what I have not done or do I focus on what I am doing each and every day?&lt;br /&gt;Attitude is everything, and it is important for each of us to turn away from thoughts of where we have defeated ourselves or each other - the areas of "failure", and instead celebrate the things we are doing, where we are succeeding. Pushing too far, too fast will only lead to exhaustion or worse; instead, today, take a deep breath, and be proud of what you are accomplishing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-9046419257545992516?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/9046419257545992516/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/failing.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9046419257545992516'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/9046419257545992516'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/failing.html' title='failing'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2596491435719407800.post-341783161982425070</id><published>2010-05-16T16:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-16T20:17:13.694-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bay to Breakers</title><content type='html'>I had lunch today with friends of friends Vince &amp;amp; James. We had to relocate from their first choice because of an event called "Bay to Breakers". They&amp;nbsp;instead chose a location about a mile from where I live. While walking to brunch I realize people on the street are dressed even more unusual than normal. I have mentioned before that most people in San Francisco dress as though they just rolled out of bed. Today, among the regular "fashion", were several costumes, lots of seventies inspired looks, and few people matched in any way.&lt;br /&gt;I mention this when I arrived at the restaurant and both James &amp;amp; Vince nodded their heads and said "mmmhmm - bay to breakers". I thought it was some kind of race. No, they responded, it is more like straight people halloween - their own version of "pride" if you will (referring to the annual gay pride parade). Why? I asked. "There is no why" they tell me, "it just is".&lt;br /&gt;That conversation reminded me of the many times I have experienced cultural differences within my own country. I have spent a substantial amount of time, and even lived in, most of the states in this union (Alaska still eludes me). I will never forget living in Orlando, not quite "legal" and&amp;nbsp;a man I worked with at Disney, Derrick, took me to a club - Firestone for those of you familiar with Orlando. I thought I was on&amp;nbsp;a fun date with a really nice guy. We were dancing and two of the boys next to me began kissing - french kissing! I cannot put into words how stunned, how fascinated, I was. This had NEVER happened in Wyoming.&amp;nbsp;I dug my 35mm camera out of my purse and began photographing them. "What are you doing?!" Derrick asked me and I told him - "those boys are kissing each other!". God bless him, Derrick then pulled me from the dance floor and I learned a lot that evening - first and foremost that I was not on a "date". ;-)&lt;br /&gt;A few months later I started my senior year of college on a domestic exchange program in Rhode Island. I was surrounded by pro-union, pro big government, anti-corporate&amp;nbsp;kids in my international relations class when I spoke up about how wonderful open pit coal mining is. My fellow students were stunned, and the professor, European by birth, made a very wise insight: "There are differences culturally between the states that are more extreme than the culture differences between countries in Europe".&lt;br /&gt;I have had many experiences in my life, and many of the strongest, perhaps surprisingly,&amp;nbsp;have been here in america. &lt;br /&gt;I have been covered in henna in Morroco, covered by burka in the middle east, been handed unclothed babies in rural china, been robbed (repeatedly)&amp;nbsp;in India...yet, within my own country I still frequently find myself surprised by local cultural norms...I suppose it is a global reality, that when confronted with something that exceeds the boundaries of what we consider normal, it is important to remember that sometimes "there is no why, it is just is", and go with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2596491435719407800-341783161982425070?l=psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/feeds/341783161982425070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/bay-to-breakers.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/341783161982425070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2596491435719407800/posts/default/341783161982425070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychologyofyoga.blogspot.com/2010/05/bay-to-breakers.html' title='Bay to Breakers'/><author><name>Misty Walsh</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09291853609263377683</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kVaYQdaRLDM/S2HPtPsOXLI/AAAAAAAAAAM/T_oVL1y50zU/S220/4401_85932429209_561994209_1723759_243088_s.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
