I voted several days ago, and this year, things were different. I’m not just talking about the masks, hand sanitizer, and extra space between the stations.

Usually when I go to the polls, I get misty-eyed with pride and humility as I stand in line to honor the civic duty (and privilege) of voting.

I think about all that our forefathers endured to establish our nation, and all the suffragettes did to fight for my right to vote as a woman.

I consider those who have fought to preserve our democracy and freedom, from the world wars to the war on terrorism.

I ponder how lucky I am to live in a country where elections are fair and real.

Instead, this year I felt the darkness and heaviness of our political polarities like thick smoggy air on a hot, humid night, even though it was a crisp, sunny autumn day when I went to my nearest early voting site.

My heart is overflowing with excitement for the change in the seasons and about all the fun things I’m planning for you over the coming months.

Amidst all the joy, though, I’ve somehow managed to develop a toothache.

Not like, “Oh, my teeth feel a little sensitive when I drink cold water.”

More like, “I didn’t do anything, and I feel like my head is going to explode it hurts so much.”

The pain comes in waves, and wracks my entire lower left jaw, into my left ear, even sometimes down my neck and up to my temple. Sometimes I get nauseated and feel like I’m going to pass out.

I want to crawl out of my skin, all because of this little thing that, in yoga, we call Dvesha (Aversion to Pain).

It’s one of the five Kleshas (Afflictions) that the ancient texts tell us cause suffering and prevent us from finding union and liberation. They’re a super important part of understanding your ability to change your life through yoga.

Sometimes you know exactly what you need. At other times, it’s hard to know what your body and soul are calling for until you get it. Think about all those times you felt better after a posture class, not realizing that you needed the particular poses and sequence your teacher offered up until after you did them.

This global health situation we’ve been in these last few months is unprecedented in our lifetimes, and we’re all figuring it out as we go. Things keep changing so fast.

When I was in second or third grade, I had to interview someone (not my parents) about where they were, what they were doing, and how they felt when JFK was assassinated. I interviewed my grandmother on my dad’s side.

At the time I thought the assignment was a history lesson about JFK, and the impact of who he was as a person and president. Decades later I’m learning something new from it that has nothing to do with JFK, and everything to do with being a human.

When something shockingly monumental happens in your life, time stands still for a few moments, and your emotions engrave the experience forever in your heart and memory.

Whether it’s the birth of a child or something like 9/11, you remember where you were, what you were doing, and maybe even details like what you were wearing.

I don’t think I’ve ever met a dog that didn’t jump for joy upon seeing the leash come out. All the dogs I’ve met know the leash means they get to go for a walk, and there’s almost nothing more exciting, except for food and the return of their owner.

Not Cosmo.

He sat on a pillow on the hardwood floor and refused to get up. Phyllis had attached the leash to his collar. Even when she said, “Let’s go!” and started to walk, he didn’t budge. The pillow slid along the wooden floor with Cosmo still sitting on it. When the pillow stopped moving, Cosmo got up and walked away from Phyllis and the door.

That was before he found his Dharma, or purpose in life.

I’ll never forget the first time I tried it. It was exhilarating. I’d never felt anything like it.

I was a little embarrassed about the marks on my wrists, though… Despite the summer heat in Washington, DC, I kept my suit jacket on at work. I didn’t want my colleagues to get the wrong impression.

It was powerful too. I found when I was on it, I could try things I otherwise might not have the courage to do.

Yet when I was on it, I found I could truly “hang.” I could open my heart in ways I never knew were possible.

There’s simply nothing quite like the Great Yoga Wall®. In fact, it’s what got me teaching.

I was watching TV the other night, and a familiar feeling came up all of a sudden.

I had just seen a commercial. In it a couple sat in an airport, and through the window behind them, a plane taxied past them. I can’t even remember what the commercial was advertising, but I knew right away what I was feeling.

It’s been happening pretty consistently since probably around 2002, and it usually takes about four to six weeks to appear. I know it well by now.

It’s the air travel itch.

I was surprised to feel it so soon, as we had only been home from our holiday travels for about ten days. Then I realized that we drove for that trip, and it’s been about six weeks since the last time I flew.

It’s not that I don’t want to be home. I love sleeping in our own bed, being in the comfort of our routines, enjoying time with our friends here, and exploring in “our own backyard.”

I just love to fly. There’s something so exciting and adventurous about it. Being suspended in the air feels magical, exhilarating, and refreshing to me.

Then, there’s the shift in perspective you get when you land in and experience another place. The air smells different. The weather might have changed from where you were. People might speak in an unfamiliar way. The landscape might vary from where you originated. Untold adventures await.

If you’re going someplace new, there’s so much to explore. Even if you’re going someplace you’ve been a bunch of times before, you’ll probably notice some changes. Traveling offers a great opportunity to observe and discover.

Maybe that’s another reason why I love yoga so much.

My birthday is right before New Year's Eve, so it’s a new year for me in two ways. Maybe that’s why I used to put so much pressure on myself around the time of my birthday.

I don’t mind at all that my birthday is near the holidays. When I was growing up, my family always did a great job giving me separate presents and celebrations for each occasion. I always felt that having my birthday right before the new year helped ease the post-Christmas let down.

Yet since I was a teenager, for those few days between Christmas and my birthday, I often would find myself reflecting deeply on who I am, who I want to be, my purpose in life, what I want to accomplish, and how I want to contribute.

I gave up resolutions long ago (see my Resolution Redo post for what I tend to do instead). There’s nothing wrong with them. I just find that a different approach works better for me. I like to determine who I want to be in order to live my Dharma (purpose). Once I know this piece, I consistently consider what goals I want to set and what actions I need to take throughout the year.

Some people call it a theme for the year. In yoga, we call it Sankalpa, an intention. You might have heard your teacher invite you to set an intention at the beginning of a posture practice. If you’ve just rushed from work to get to class, your intention might be simply to relax. If you’re really tired, you might set an intention just to make it through the class.

And guess what? You usually feel better after class. You usually make it through class.

There’s no need to limit your intention setting to your yoga class though.

One of the things that always comes up in my holiday self-care workshops is navigating tough relationships. Whether you’re missing a loved one who’s gone to the other side, stressing about arguments that can arise over Christmas dinner, going through a breakup, or worrying about disappointing a child (or parent or spouse or…), the holidays can highlight relationship difficulties. It’s easy to feel sad when so much of the media around you is saying you should be living the perfect life of happiness with your loved ones at the holidays, and you’re not.

Here’s the thing. Relationship challenges aren't just inconvenient. Relationships are a key component of your health and wellbeing, and there are all kinds of studies and statistics to back it up. A lack of strong relationships can increase the risk of premature death from all causes by up to 50%, according to Harvard Women’s Health Watch. Women who felt depressed in strained marriages are at higher risk of heart disease and other illnesses, according to a study by researchers at the University of Utah. Conversely, married patients are more than three times more likely to survive the first three months after heart surgery than unmarried patients, according to researchers at Emory and Rutgers universities.

Self-care doesn’t have to be an hour-long massage, a long hike out in the woods, or a weekend retreat at a spa. Although these things are fantastic acts of self-care, let’s face it. During the holidays, the only hike you might be taking is around the mall, and it’s likely more of a crawl as you stand in long lines to pay.

With so many holiday parties, home tours, special markets, musical and dance performances, shopping, tree trimming, gift wrapping, and other fun activities at this time of year, it’s easy to feel like there’s not enough time for it all. Sometimes your schedule can get so packed that you have trouble getting enough sleep, let alone making it to your regular yoga class.

If you’re like me, you love the holidays so much that you don’t want to miss out on any of it. I used to think that if I just scheduled it all, I would get to it all. That only resulted in cramming my schedule so much that I had to rush to get everywhere, only to arrive exhausted, cranky, and less able to enjoy whatever it was. Or I would stay up all night making fudge and cookies because that’s the only time I could fit it in before the party where I was serving it, and then I’d have a hard time keeping my eyes open at the party and end up sick for days after it.

When you’re totally knocked out from holiday merry making, treat eating, and gift shopping (see my last post for how decision fatigue depletes you and a cool simple yoga trick to help), then you need look no further than what’s probably already one of your favorite poses. It’s almost universally loved, and one that you can’t wait for in a tough class. No, it’s not Savasana, but it’s just about as relieving.

It’s Adho Mukha Virasana (Downward Facing Hero’s Pose), often confused with Balasana (Child’s Pose), depending on your style or lineage of yoga. What’s the difference? In Adho Mukha Virasana (Downward Facing Hero’s Pose), the arms stay near the torso or head and the fingers point toward the wall in front of you. In Balasana (Child’s Pose), the arms go back by your legs with the palms facing up and the fingers pointing to the wall behind you.

Either way, Adho Mukha Virasana (Downward Facing Hero’s Pose) is my top pick for poses to help fight holiday fatigue, and I’ve got a special variation to share with you that’s even more restful than the pose usually is.

With Black Friday deals starting way before Thanksgiving nowadays, along with Small Business Saturday and Cyber Monday, you have more options than ever for shopping and finding great deals. While variety is wonderful, it can contribute to something called decision fatigue, a psychological theory that says that you get exhausted and depleted from all the choices you make each day.

From small ones like what to wear and eat, to big ones like whether to ask the boss for a promotion or what car to buy, you are constantly making decisions. Some of them might even be somewhat subconscious or automatic, like doodling during a meeting or the tone of voice you use when you say good morning.

And guess what? Your decisions get worse the more fatigued you are.

On top of that, if your decision-making style is that of a maximizer (one who tends to look at all the options and research the heck out of things to find the one with the absolute maximum benefit) as opposed to a satisficer (one who typically does some research and then selects a satisfying option), your process might be causing even more tension. Just ask my husband about how we chose the paint colors for our townhouse—he knew right away, and I looked at those paint chips for days.

So not only is there more to do in general during the holidays, your shopping list expands the number of decisions you need to make, which can create even more fatigue. When you add the strain of finding the “perfect” gift, you’ve got a recipe for stress and potentially even illness.

In fact, the last time I taught my workshop, Finding Your Holiday Self-Care Strategies, one of the biggest challenges the participants expressed experiencing during the holidays was the pressure they felt to find the perfect gifts. They wanted to make Santa look good.

My hands were sore from gripping the steering wheel. My husband and I were driving from LA to Sacramento, and sign after sign warned of gusty winds through the valley.

At first it looked like fog. When we moved through it, I felt like I was driving through a blizzard, only instead of snow it was dirt. We made our way through sand storm after sand storm. To make matters worse, the wind was whipping tumbleweeds across the road.

Then a six-foot tumbleweed came at us from the left. Now, tumbleweeds are not super heavy or dense, but get one stuck on your windshield, and you’re in for instant trouble, like the flipped car we saw a few miles up the road.

I don’t know about you, but I’m so ready for fall. I’d love some cooler temperatures (not crazy cold, just a bit crisp), cozy soups, and cuddling under a blanket with my hubby to watch a movie.

It was a tough summer for me. We moved into our new townhome in May, after completing several renovations. Where there was carpet, we put down gorgeous new hardwood floors. Where there were peach-colored Corian countertops, we installed a sparkly black and brown granite, perfect for hiding turmeric spills. Where there were old white grimy appliances, we spruced up with new stainless gadgets. Where there were drab grey walls, we put soothing colors that we love.

“OMG, I’m doing it right now!” I thought.

I had just taken a yoga class, and went to grab some lunch and write for a bit. After I finished my lunch and opened up my computer, I noticed it.

I had one elbow on the high-top table in front of me with my hand under my chin. To rest my chin on my hand, I had to hunch over. I was starting to write about upper back pain, and here I was slouching and feeling it.

The backless bar stool I was using gave me no support, and my feet were so far from the floor that I had nothing to root into so that I could lift my spine. So being the yogini that I am, I moved the chair back so I could bring my sit bones to the front edge of the chair, pressed my feet into the chair bar, lifted from my low belly through my sternum, and drew my shoulder blades down my back. Ahhh, much better.

You see, problems in the upper back and neck can happen so easily. You might droop over a computer all day. When you’re not on the computer you’re probably hunched over your phone. Then, you’re so tired you come home and slump on to the couch. Sometimes you might even get on your phone or computer while slouching on the couch (gasp!).

A fresh coastal breeze danced through the open door. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the California sun, which warmed my tired, overworked body, fresh in from Washington, DC. A soft voice guided me to bow my head and look into my heart.

I was more in my body than I had been in a long time. That voice had guided me home, to a physical location where I longed to be, to a deeper posture practice than I had ever known, and, most importantly, to myself.

I was in my first yoga certification, getting in-depth training on the Great Yoga Wall, an amazing prop that inspired me to start teaching. In less than a year, I began commuting from Washington, DC to Ventura, CA to start my 200-hour yoga teacher training with that same voice, which resonated so deeply with my own inner voice.

A year after that first trip, I packed up my place in DC, left my hectic yet stable career with the federal government, and moved to study with that voice more deeply. It became an adventure that took me places I never imagined possible, from India to the depths of my soul.

That voice belonged to my dear yoga teacher, Bryan Legere, who unexpectedly, yet peacefully, left his body on Wednesday, July 10, at 12:15 a.m. in Eastern Oregon.

It might sound cliché, but mother nature shows us that spring is a time for waking up, refreshing, clearing out, and starting new. In the spirit of making a fresh start, my husband and I bought a townhouse, and we’re in the final stretch of finishing up a few updates before we move in the next few weeks.

This is the first time I’ve ever done these kinds of renovations, and it’s like having a second job. For the last couple months I’ve been researching wood flooring, appliances, kitchen countertops, lighting, faucets, painters, movers, and other projects that I have the delusion of being able to DIY until I look it up on You Tube and then decide, “Uh, no.”

So I’ve been meeting and coordinating with lots of folks, and the other day I was juggling three groups—the kitchen countertop installers, the painters, and our handyman—along with running a few other errands.

By late morning, the countertop guys had to stop early because of an unexpected problem. My smoothie and tea had run their courses, and my eyeballs were floating. With the water in the townhouse off, I made a mad dash back to our apartment, which thankfully is close, to relieve myself.

We’re back from our trip overseas for my father-in-law’s memorial, and March has flown by us, between jet-lag, “spring forward” into daylight savings, a couple of drop-everything-else projects, renovating our new townhouse, and guests. It’s hard to believe that we’re in the last days of March!

I’m still processing all of the ceremonies, beauty, and emotions that I experienced as our family sent my father-in-law on his way and will share more thoughts about it at some point. For now, here’s a little taste of what I learned.

As we arrived at my mother-in-law’s house, the air was hushed with sadness even as dozens of relatives and friends filled the space. Cousins and sisters ushered me in one direction to see my mother-in-law right away. Though we don’t often speak the same language of words, we understood each other clearly with our tears and hugs as the shared language of grief. I realized something important that night that will help me so much in the future.

I used to work in an office on the fourth floor of a large, seven-floor building. The cafeteria was on the first floor, and a few of my bosses were on the fifth floor. I had to meet with people on all floors and in opposite corners on a regular basis, including in the basement of the building. Unless I was going from the ground floor to seven, I always took the stairs…in heels and a skirt suit.

People would say they heard me coming, because I always walked fast and had a particularly noticeable step (that my friends of course made fun of). All those years of marching band made my heels come down first, which creates a certain clickety-clack when you’re hurrying to a meeting to tell something important to someone even more important.

I got up every weekday morning and went to the gym or for a run at 5:30 a.m. Unless, of course, I had to be at work by then for a special meeting. I worked crazy hours, and sometimes even stayed late on Friday nights when I didn’t have to so I could pack in a few hours of uninterrupted work. You might think I had no social life, but I somehow managed to squeeze in happy hours, dinners with friends, hikes, and even dating. I was rarely asleep before 12 a.m.

After a few years, I noticed that when I met a big deadline, which often came up suddenly and carried with it a lot of pressure to get things right, I was fried the next day. We’re talking like a donut fried, with nothing but fluff on the inside. I would sit and stare at my inbox, not sure where or how to start. More coffee didn’t help. More protein and sugar only slightly did until I crashed again. I should have seen it starting then.

Throughout my childhood, I LOVED pancakes. Spoiler alert—I still do.

My step mom dubbed me Pancake when I was about four because that’s all I wanted for breakfast. I made Mickie Mouse pancakes with my grandmothers every chance I got. We didn’t have any fancy pancake molds back then. We just made a big circle and added two small circles for the ears. They were magical in my wide, five-year-old eyes.

I also remember (and now regret) feeding pancakes to the chipmunks at Yosemite National Park. I thought they would love my fluffy, syrup-laden clouds of heaven just like I did—poor little Chip N Dale. I can’t imagine their gluten-loaded tummies weren’t bloated and achy after that.

Then along came my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Jenkins. She was the kind of healthy person who always wore running shoes and had a perpetual tan from running outside (I’m pretty sure there were no tanning beds in my tiny little town back then). I’m forever grateful to her because she sparked my interest in nutrition. We learned about the food groups and how to write out a recipe. We even cooked in class and had healthy eating challenges.

Between Mrs. Jenkins and my mom’s interest in nutrition and mindful eating, my love for exploring healthy foods and lifestyles, much like my curiosity of yoga, started at an early age.

My body is my laboratory, and I’ve experimented with a lot of different eating plans. Here’s what I’ve learned.