“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”  Unknown.

I received an interesting comment from a cyber friend recently.  Those of you who know me, know that I love my dog.  I adore her.  Insufferably.  I’m sure people get tired of hearing my Tasha stories, probably with good reason. Only the true dog (or cat, or rabbit or horse, or snake or…) lovers among you can understand.

I know Tasha’s not human. I know she’s “just” a dog. But she’s still part of my family. Her recent health issues have been very challenging for me on emotional, financial, and spiritual levels.  And I’m a writer.  It’s what I do.  It’s how I process emotions and use them to (hopefully positively) influence my world.

In any case, things are finally looking up for Tasha and me. We ruled out lots of deadly diseases. We made it through hip replacement surgery. And although there’s still a long recovery ahead of her, it looks like she will be with me for hopefully several more years.  To say I’m happy, if exhausted, would be an understatement.

I posted about that on Facebook.

First, let me say that I LOVE Facebook.  I enjoy seeing photos of people’s kids, updates on their daily activities, inspirational sayings, and cute puppy pictures.  I use it to ask for energy and to encourage others and give them support.  So it was natural for me to share good news from a veterinary surgeon about my dog’s likely return to health.

The vast majority of people didn’t say anything about the post. The rest replied with encouragement.

One person, however, chose a different route. She chose to berate me, saying that I wrote more about my dog in that post (a few sentences) than most people write about their dying parents.  She continued to write that I must be pretty darned lucky if I could write so much about a dog when others were suffering true hardships.

I considered replying, but I didn’t.  I just let it go.

I regret that.  So now, here is my reply.  First, yes, I’m lucky.  So very, very lucky. I know that.  I have a wonderful life, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I don’t write about my father on Facebook because sadly, he died almost 13 years ago. My mother is healthy, as is my husband, thank God.

My dog is not.

I love this four-legged creature that has blessed me so much, to a fault. I know some people don’t understand that love, and I can live with that.

Why am I writing about this? The yoga sutras say we should always act with compassion—in actions, words, and thoughts. Today, I challenge all of you—myself too—to remember that in all of our communications—be they in person or on social media.  We each have the power to make someone’s day brighter.  Let’s use it.

Come visit Whole Life Yoga in Seattle, and check out my author page for information about the Downward Dog Mysteries series.  MURDER STRIKES A POSE is available for preorder now from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Whole Life Yoga, and other retailers!

I have spent every spare moment for the last year and a half writing my first yoga mystery, Murder Strikes a Pose. My husband and dog can both attest to my writing obsession, as well as the sacrifices they made so I could pursue it.

I offered my novel to the universe last Tuesday. To be more specific, I e-mailed it to several prospective agents. As I hit the SEND button, I was struck by the parallels between writing and yoga. Both have been inexorable parts of my life this last year. My personal yoga practice kept me balanced and opened my mind to creativity. Teaching yoga kept me grounded in what was truly important. Writing allowed my mind and imagination to fly free.

According to sutra 1.12, yoga helps us overcome the limitations of our minds and the frailties of our conditioning, but only if we commit to it as a “persevering practice.” Persevering practice occurs:

• Over a long period of time
• Without interruption
• With dedication and enthusiasm
• Without attachment to results.

Easy, right?

If you’re like me, your yoga practice ebbs and flows. Sometimes it’s part of your daily routine; sometimes it falls off the radar for weeks at a time. Sometimes you leap onto your mat with the joy of a child holding a bright green lollipop; other times you drag yourself there like a fifty-year-old en route to her first colonoscopy. And that whole idea of not being attached to the results? Well, good luck with that.

But as usual, the sutras offer wisdom, for both yogis and writers. Put simply, the ancient teachings are right.

Asana done once a month or even once a week gives anemic results, and the benefits of daily practice quickly dissipate when discontinued. Without dedication, yoga practice becomes nothing more than exercise, and not very effective exercise at that. On the other hand, if we hold preconceived attachments to the results of our practice, we simply give up.

Writing offers many parallels. I wrote the first two chapters of my book over three years ago, then let it sit for almost two years. Until I worked on it daily for over a year, I made no progress. And on the days I lacked dedication and enthusiasm, my words were no more than crumpled pages at the bottom of my recycle bin.

As for attachment to results, well, I have to let that go, or I’ll never make it past my first rejection, sure to come any day now. Any writer attached to success lasts about three minutes before laughing maniacally, tossing her computer out the window, and popping popcorn over the manuscript burning in her fireplace.

So why continue? I practice both yoga and writing because word by word, pose by pose, both offer unexpected gifts: flashes of self-understanding, moments of quiet calm, a connection to laughter and joy in this sometimes challenging life. These small gifts make all the rest worth it.

Like many of my students, my yoga and writing practices both wax and wane, and my larger goals often seem unattainable. I’m more likely to become a bestselling author than attain enlightenment in this lifetime, and neither is very darned likely. But the simple act of practicing serves me, nonetheless.

So if you need me, I’ll be teaching at the studio or typing at my keyboard—persevering.

Namaste

Tracy Weber

Come visit Whole Life Yoga in Seattle!