Marcia's Musings: The Importance of Being Sweaty
/ GL AdminsSweating and I share a long history of grappling, resisting, camouflaging, accepting, and a plethora of other strong emotions. Never have I entertained the idea of writing an entire column on a subject that makes us cringe sometimes until now.
As a girl – an active girl living an outdoor life every season on a small Iowa farm – sweat came with the territory. We sweat in the sudden strong spring sun planting crops. We sweat as the Plains heated in the summer as we pulled weeds; fixed fences; checked stock cattle (yes, on horseback) in faraway-from-the-farmhouse pastures; cut, raked, and baled hay; and pruned and harvested the garden, and tended to chickens, milk cows, hogs, ducks, and geese (it was a bit like a Disney movie in some ways). In fall and certainly in winter, we sweat under layers and layers of heavy clothing that prevented frostbite yet didn’t breathe. And as kids we poured sweat playing in our piece of paradise.
Honestly, then, it came as a shock to hit the illogical and magical junior-high years and observe kids, particularly girls, not wanting to sweat. No more riding bikes to the pool (we might get sweaty). A hesitancy to continue to play sports (we would get sweaty). A reluctance to show a moist upper lip, forehead, and, worse of all, a damp armpit. Is there anyone among us who, like me, remembers mothers wearing “dress shields” – contraptions worn around the arms and armpits to absorb the perspiration because, God forbid, a damp circle would show? Does anyone out there recall the use strident and stringent anti-perspirants that stopped the sweat glands for what seems like weeks and sometimes discolored the delicate armpit skin? No? Count yourself lucky.
As the culture of well-being evolved and the awareness of the benefits of regular physical exercise and a good, long sweat grew – along with the increased opportunities for girls and woman to participate in sports of all kinds at all levels (thank you, Title IX, and the lawmakers who wrote and passed it). Whether many people still may dislike the feeling of sweaty or the display of sweating (spritzing), its health benefits cannot be denied as we move and literally wring out what we don’t need through our sweat. Whether you sweat only through active movement – walking, running, hiking, biking, kayaking, vinyasa and other strong movement forms of yoga – or through other methods like dry saunas or long baths (if you still have tubs in the home), perspiring ranks high on the list of healthy bodily functions. Out, damn toxins! (And, out, damn colds, flu, fevers.)
There’s more on this topic that we overlook to our detriment: Sweating often communicates the state of our emotional well-being. How many times has a friend, partner, child, spouse said to you, “I broke out into a cold sweat”? How many times have you experienced the cold sweats yourself? A case of the cold sweats is the body’s SOS about strong emotions such as fear, anxiety, shyness, nervousness, trepidation, guilt, heartbreak and many others. Often accompanied by the proverbial “pit in the stomach”, the cold sweat signal high levels of stress, the flooding of our bodies with stress hormones, the activation of our high-alert systems, commonly known as the fight-or-flight system. Often, cold sweats arrive with companion messengers like dry mouth (maybe before a speech or when facing a difficult conversation), handwringing, leg/foot tapping, or other physical tics, or avoidance of direct eye contact. All of these speak to our emotional states.
Ignore it at your peril. When we simply turn away from this signal without mindful observation and then examination, we tend to stuff the emotions deep inside where they find safe harbor and grow stronger so that the next time they are activated, the cold sweats amplify, and discomfort grows. Seen as good messenger, however, the cold or nervous sweats can help us regulate our emotions and let them pass through us. In this way, they lose their power over us, and we can choose whether to act (or not) in any situation.
Our bodies need healthy warm sweating to physically release toxins, to cool us, to restore energy. And our minds need cold sweats to call attention to our emotional states and to reestablish emotional well-being. Both kinds of sweating stand as messengers. Welcome them. Listen to them.
Break a Sweat in Our Infrared Sauna
Earlier this month, I led a training in Yoga Nidra. My heart cracked open. Emotions and feelings flowed. What a gift for us all, students and teachers alike. In sharing our inner life and our hearts’ deepest longings, we find equality.
Hey, God, are you there? It’s me, Marcia. Usually, as I sit on my cushion, I listen for and to you. As you know, sometimes, I call you God, other times Universe. Other times, Goddess. In a long life with you, I learned you hear and answer to many names. I know you’re there.
Today, I pay tribute to a man who learned to live in “the world of and”, who embraced change, a meaningful space in the philosophy of yoga, particularly in the therapeutic approach of Yoga Nidra, and in Buddhist psychology.
At this time of the year, we often feel tender: tender toward other people, tender toward the natural world and all its creatures, tender toward life itself, tender perhaps even toward ourselves. Images both sweet, like a dog and cat sleeping together, and horrifying, like the pain and suffering borne by innocent civilians on both sides of a war, elicit tender thoughts.
The headline for this soul-baring sounds faintly geopolitical and sinister. It’s as though Hercule Poirot stands on deck to solve a great mystery. This situation requires no famous investigator, however. What is unfolding is the normal flow of the sweet river of life and a happy, joyous bend in it. I can’t wait to tell you this long-held secret.
This thought plagues me in a time of impersonality. We sit in offices in our private homes, alone or on endless Zoom meetings that I overhear from my home’s lower level when my children or friends stay over. Oh, yes, they see faces. The sharing, though, is all business…
When the hammer fell, or more accurately the surgeon’s scalpel, and a non-life-threatening complication ensued along with an extended rest at-home, legs-elevated time, I faced down this question: As I age, how will I fill my time and engage my mind and body?
With Barbie, there emerged a more complicated relationship. She didn’t look like anything I witnessed in the strong flesh-and-blood women around me, and it’s only by some miracle that I didn’t start to body-shame myself. I know many others did in the years before we talked about concepts like the male gaze and how it distorts the way women view themselves. This sets impossible standards that maim and warp and cause real illnesses in both men and women and their relationships, however they come together. Especially in the first decade of Barbie’s existence, her white, white world left out everyone else, which matched reality, until the great movements of the late ‘60s and ‘70s caused Mattel, Barbie’s corporate owner, to succumb to the pressure to “show dolls more like me and my daughter”. I’ll get back to that in a minute.
I want to be as truthful with you as I am able. Acknowledging my anger, exploring its roots, and deciding where and when to act feels good…
I’m happy. Right now, I can’t believe how often I am happy. The best news? I no longer wonder how long this joy will last or how to extend it. I’ve come to see that when I’m happy, I can just be in that happy place for however long it lasts.
The lingering effects of this concussion force the Energizer Bunny to slow down and remind me of my True Self which aways craved quiet and stillness. I nap, listen to books, and more deeply embrace internal practices that support my healing.
I walked out the front door of my Florida home, stepping into a sky-blue-bright day blazing with heat, only to find a chicken turtle clinging to the edge of my paver-patterned driveway. As I approached, thinking how much it looked like a painted turtle our children once raised, it appeared more lethargic than frightened.
Of all the paired human emotions, love and loss cause the most challenge for me. As an only child raised and nurtured in the embrace of two warm and closely knit families, I dreaded the passage of time with its inevitable march toward separation caused by death….
Inner wars and conflicts never pass without struggle. Whether the focus is on love, relationship, food, exercise, money, or anything else, once the inner struggle begins, we easily bog down, mired in the mud of indecision and inaction. Ask me: I’m expert on this one.
Trusting your heart demands not only deep listening but also deep feeling. You cannot think your way to discovering your heart’s deepest longing. You must hear and feel it and then give it voice, clearly and compassionately….
I started to examine how the repetitive, mundane tasks of life – whether working on the farm with all it entailed or, later, attending to my own home with its demands for care and payments – felt in my body. The more I focused on the chore, the more aware I became of the emotions and sensations emerging.
This is a song of life. Like most songs, and all stories of life, it contains both joy and sadness, and it begins like this.
The yoga Vedic teaching to speak the sweet truth – Satyaṃ brūyāt priyaṃ brūyāt in Sanskrit – invites us to use exquisite subtlety in communicating the truth which virtually demands that we pause before speaking. The teaching goes on:
Floating when depleted proves to be a strong Rx, a natural one, too. You don’t need to be on an ocean- or river-bound ship to do it, either. Floating, I’ve come to realize, comes in many versions and leads to a more- restive state of mind…
In her cheerful, quiet room, I sit as close to her hospital bed as possible, my hand on her bony shoulder, and turn my full attention to her. Even as she sleeps, I resist the phone….
All day long, I’d roamed the combative realm of divided attention: sneaking in an answer to a text or two while in Zoom meetings; answering phone calls from colleagues and friends while writing emails or editing articles, and cramming some non-descript food into my hungry body while reading business documents. I felt depleted and alienated. Split attention takes a toll on us as we now well know, giving lie to decades of training people how to multi-task.
There comes the time when we take deep stock of our lives. If we’re living a life grounded in the present and in the body, we will have taken stock frequently throughout the entire arc of our lives. What does it mean to take deep stock? When do we know it’s time to do so? How do we do it?
Sweating often communicates the state of our emotional well-being. How many times has a friend, partner, child, spouse said to you, “I broke out into a cold sweat”? How many times have you experienced the cold sweats yourself?
The feeling of happiness moved throughout my body like liquid gold, starting at my heart center. I understood what happiness feels like for me. Because I stayed present the thought was no longer just a thought – it morphed into a physical sensation….
When grief comes calling, it rarely arrives alone. Sometimes guilt accompanies it. It’s complicated and many-layered. Sometimes relief does – the innate gratitude that the loved one no longer suffers – and inadvertently triggers more guilt….
It wasn’t always easy to recognize positive outcomes in the age of the pandemic, given the brain’s preference for negative thinking. Especially in the darkest days our community faced together, all I focused on was absorbing the shock of the “unseen enemy” and its relentless assault…
My mother’s younger brother died a few weeks ago at age 88. One minute he sat chatting from his chair with his daughter, seeing her on Facetime, and the next he slumped over quietly. He left this world on the long, last exhale in an instant without noticeable stress or pain. In what certainly stands as a sign of these times, my cousin virtually witnessed her father passing, his energy moving from one dimension to the next in full digital view.
Grief arrives for many reasons. We often identify the death of a partner, spouse, friend, child, parent, or colleague as the deepest form of grief – and rightfully so. We’ve witnessed the pain of this kind of grief etched on survivors’ faces.
