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When The Holiday Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get To The Gym
by Yin Cai Shakya
Yin Cai Shakya, un-racking a very conservative 325 lbs. for his thrid squat attempt, during the 2011 In-House Fundraiser Powerlifting Meet at Celli's Fitness Center, Pittsburgh, PA.
A cursory glance at huffingtonpost.com revealed a smattering of "helpful" articles concerning the Christmas holiday: 3 Ways To Cope With Holiday Stress And Feel More Joy; Are We There Yet?; How To Get Through This Week Without Killing Each Other; and my favorite, 'Tis The Season To Enjoy Your Divorce which reinforces a suspicion that has taken form in my mind: "it is better to have no company than bad company" and suggests that I treat myself to a mani-pedi, and get my picture taken while giving Santa a lap dance. Further, I should publish this photo since it will give my friends notice that I have moved on. (Ah, yes... that ought to do it.)
Samsara, it would seem, guarantees job security for advice columnists, manicurists, and vice-cops.
Be that as it may, Holiday Stress is a topic worthy of some mention, and as such, I would like to relate a brief anecdote about my own recent brush with it which may or may not be edifying.
The Christmas holiday is a time when loved ones gather together and spend time with one another. It isThe Season Of Giving, and give we do. We give gifts. We give time. We give food and a warm place to stay when we are stuck being the festivities' host. We do all this to prove to those we love that, obviously, we love and cherish them. And in the process of doing all this - and daring to hope that we'll be similarly "gifted" - we give ourselves an inordinate amount of stress.
Consider a brief case-in-point: my mother.
I admire her for her diplomacy. She maintained a discrete silence when I told her, two weeks before The Big Move, that my then-wife and I had decided to move to Pittsburgh. Not even a year later, when I informed her that my then-wife and I had decided to get a divorce, and she asked me "You're not planning to stay in Pittsburgh, are you?" and I answered, "Of course I am. This is where the Steelers are," did she voice an opinion.
I know mom misses me and cares for me very much. That's why she invited me to come and visit over the Christmas holidays. She wanted me spend time with her, my Step-Father, my sister, and my sister's fiancŽe.
Of course I accepted her invitation. I was happy to.
There was just one problem...
Begonia, my pit bull.
Begonia had previously accompanied me on visits to my mother's house. And for the most part, things went well.
We discovered early on that Begonia does not appreciate the forwardness of my mother's golden retriever, Nick. Nick likes to play rough and Begonia has little tolerance for such behavior. I recall their first meeting. My mom and I observed them playing together. It delighted us to see how well they got along. And then, without provocation, Nick decided to put his mouth on Begonia's muzzle in what he probably thought was a playful bite. Begonia, had a different interpretation. Without condescending to issue a warning. she bit him and brought him down... down to the ground. No serious damage had been done. I immediately grabbed Begonia and pulled her off.
As responsible dog-owners, my mother and I decided that a strict separation of dogs was called for, which seemed equitable. Nick would stay outside part of the day, and Begonia would be free to roam the house. Then, we would bring Nick inside, and Begonia would retire to her kennel in the back bedroom. There she would sleep until the evening, when Nick would be Kenneled so he could sleep at which time Begonia would join us again.
It had worked-out well.
However, a seed was planted in the mind of my mother, and it grew into just the sort of poisoned tree that bears the fruit of Holiday Stress. And the holidays were approaching.
That I would come to visit for Christmas and bring Begonia with me meant extra planning, another schedule within a schedule, the interior schedule being dog management, the exterior an already hectic timing of cooking different dishes, coordinating visits from friends and family, and so on. The thought of having to manage two dogs on top of everything else began to cause my mother great stress, which precipitated the email she sent me the morning of December 19th, asking if perhaps my ex-wife could dog-sit Begonia for the four days that I was supposed to spend for Christmas.
This proved to be problematic on several counts. First, I'm not in the business of asking my ex-wife for last-minute favors. Don't get me wrong, she is a good, kind, cooperative person- which is probably why we are now divorced; but being human, we're fallible and predisposed to the quid-pro-quo, one-hand-washes-the-other dynamic, and I'd rather not owe her anything.
If she did me a favor, I would owe her one, and that could spoil the amicable nature of our split which I have have worked so hard and expensively to create and maintain.
And in another respect, the more important one, it would be impolite of me to call her up the week of Christmas and ask her if she had time, in her busy holiday schedule, to dog sit for me.
No matter how I phrased it, no matter what words I used, it would be tantamount to saying, "I don't know what plans you've made for Christmas, and frankly I don't care because I want to go to my mother's for the holidays and I can't take Begonia with me which means you'll need to rearrange your plans so that you can dog-sit for four or five days."
And in the third and most important respect, there is the effect this disruption would have on Begonia's schedule. While I was never able to train my wife to any acceptable degree, I have succeeded well with my dog, and one does not lightly trifle with success. There was the distinct possibility that my ex-wife would put my dog in a Vet's kennel and keep the plans she had made.
While I was eating Christmas dinner, my good dog Begonia would be kenneled-up, discomfited in unfamiliar surroundings, feeling abandoned, emotionally destroying the order that I have established for her, and thus, putting her under that poisoned tree that bears the fruit of Holiday Stress.
Neti. Neti.
I explained the situation, including my analysis of the matter, to my mother, and she was very understanding. She suggested instead of asking my ex-wife to take the dog, I should board Begonia at her regular Vet. Somehow I hadn't made my point.
The unfortunate reality of this particular option, however, was that I hadn't planned on the extra expense of boarding my dog for four days. I also didn't care for the idea of my dog being caged up, surrounded by other dogs who were equally confused, disoriented, rejected and miserable waiting... waiting for the master who vanished to come back... sometime... maybe...
just so the master could frolic under that poisoned tree of Holiday Stress.
Nevertheless, my mom insisted that I call the Vet's office to inquire about boarding my dog, I know how busy my vet is and that there was no chance I could get Begonia a reservation at this late date. My mother persisted and I went through the motions. I called Begonia's Vet's office, knowing before the receptionist even picked up the phone what the final outcome would be.
"Good morning, Vet's office-" she said.
"Hi! You're booked-solid for boarding animals through Christmas, right?" I said.
"Yes, we certainly are. Boardings were booked months in-advance, through the first week of January."
"Ah! No room at the inn, I guess, huh?"
"No," she said. "But this is the home of Pittsburgh Steel. You could always try Bethlehem."
"Thanks for the tip, Honey." I replied.
Before my ego had the chance to say, "Well poor me, alone in Pittsburgh on Christmas," another voice in my head spoke-up, saying, "Thank God. You can stay home. If you went to visit your mother over the weekend, you'd miss Squat Day at the gym!" The words that voice spoke delighted me. And yes, I take my powerlifting training that seriously.
That voice spoke againÉ "You sometimes help Ryan, opening and closing the gym on Sundays. Why not see if he wants the day off, Christmas Eve?"
Right away, I got in touch with Ryan Celli, the owner of the gym where I train, and also my powerlifting mentor and coach. I volunteered to open the gym for him at the regular time on the day before Christmas, at 9AM and close at 2PM, the normal hours. I wouldn't have to miss a training day, and Ryan could take the day off and spend Christmas Eve with his family. He was grateful and so was his wife.
It was an Everybody Wins type of situation for all involved, including Begonia. She's used to my being gone on Saturday mornings until mid-afternoon.
How do we eliminate holiday stress during the Christmas season? How do we keep from "killing each other?" It's simple. We do not allow ourselves to feel sorry for ourselves when things do not go as planned. We staunchly refuse to inconvenience others and what's more, we try to make things easier for others.
In Buddhism we strive for Liberation. Liberation comes from Independence. Independence means not latching on to friends and family so that we can take from them a sense of self-worth, self-importance, and self-permanence.
I am independent from my extended family. Fellowship with them is, or can be, a good experience. But I will not go to extremes, inconveniencing some in order to accommodate others, picking and choosing the course that will benefit me most. Instead, I will take what the Universe has provided and try to make something out of it which, in the end, will be happy and productive.
This is what we do, in Zen. We take problems and try to make opportunities from them. "Making eggnog from lemons."
My mother can have a stress-free Christmas at her home where she belongs. My dog can enjoy a peaceful Christmas with me at home where she belongs. Ryan can spend a relaxing Christmas Eve at home with his wife and young son where he belongs, I can open and run the gym and keep our members happy and not miss an important training day.
And even though I won't be giving Santa a lap dance, I feel absolutely certain that this will be my best Christmas yet.
