When It Rains It Pours

You know those days that seem so mundane all morning, all afternoon, and then all of a sudden, it's like a flash flood of events that pour down all over your day? This was last Friday for me.

Almost getting hit by a car will surely wake you up. I was walking out of a fairly uneventful day at the office, crossing the parking lot. I watched this guy in a white hatchback look just one way before pulling out of the row of parked cars to make sure no other cars were coming. He didn't think to look to his left, where I, unarmed with a car of my own--just exposed to the elements, was walking. Though I believe I noticed that he did not see me, I kept walking, which was not so smart on my end of course. And these would have been my last words had anything actually happened: "whoa. Whoa. WHOA Dude!".

He stopped just short of me--because I did a little hop-skip-jump-run to get out of his way. When he slammed the brakes he stopped so that I was looking into his driver's side window down at him. I saw his surprised and remorseful face, making wild hand gestures that somehow meant he was sorry--that he hadn't seen me. I waved him off, "it's okay" I said. I didn't want to have a long chat about it so I just kept walking, hoping I never run into him inside the building ever.

But, as I got into my car I felt the tears well up. My life had just been threatened. I had almost been hit by a car. This is what it feels like for life to so sharply reach out for you and miss. It was scary. Some people might respond to a situation like this one--when their life is so blatantly threatened--by opening the car door and punching that idiotic driver for being so stupid. But not me. I just wanted to be alone and cry.

I wiped the tears from my face, looked in the rear view mirror to make sure I wasn't all puffy eyed, and I made my way to Whole Foods to pick up some groceries. I was walking in to the entryway where all the carts are folded together in long steel lines, but this time the carts were all pushed from their corner and scattered amid the two automatic doors. The culprit: a woman trying to save a bird.

I asked her what she was doing. "There's a little bird stuck in here somewhere, and he keeps trying to get out and slamming up against the window here, and he's panting very hard. I've never heard a bird pant! And I think he might die if I don't get him out of here...And he's in these carts somewhere."

Personally, I didn't want to deal with a dead bird today--the way she made it sound, I thought the bird would already be all mangled and dying and hopeless--like when you find a young bird that's fallen from the nest and it's so sad, but there's really nothing you can do. I so badly wanted to say "poor thing" and walk on into the store, get my groceries and leave. But I couldn't. I helped her disentangle the carts from each other and find that silly bird, that was still very much alive and well. People looked at us like we were crazy--two crazy women in Whole Foods trying to save a bird--actually--I'm sure that happens all the time. After a few minutes I was able to keep the automatic doors open and the bird flew out on its own. We breathed a sigh of relief and the crazy woman and I went our separate ways.

Driving home, I was listening to NPR like usual--some program like All Things Considered or something on the lighter side when 5:30 hit and a voice announced "And now, the news". In a 30-second time slot I heard again about the plane that had crashed, the sad state of the economy, and a suicide bomber that had detonated among women and children. That's when I lost it. I lost it driving, which is a very bad thing to do because when tears are pouring out of your eyes, it's very difficult to watch the cars around you and that little yellow line in the road. But I was close enough to home that I just had to make one more right turn, wailing in my car, my heart plummeting to the floor...beyond the floor, to the center of the planet. I sat in the driveway and just cried and cried and cried. For almost getting hit by a car, for the little bird that I saved with a crazy woman, for the victims of the plane crash, the suicide bombing, all the people struggling with the economy.

I didn't feel much better by the time I wiped my eyes and got out of my car. I waved to my neighbor who was also just getting home from work, wishing I wasn't such a mess so that I could finally introduce myself, and hoping that from her vantage point she couldn't see my mascara smeared all over my face. I made it inside to my little apartment and concluded that I just need to stop watching and listening and reading the news. Not surprisingly, it has made me feel better.

Power of Lovingkindness

I teach every Tuesday night at a gym in Glastonbury. I love this class because it is the only class I teach that is mine every week--and has been for quite a few months now. There are many "regulars" that I have become noticeably more comfortable in class and with me as a teacher. 

Recently, my supervisor at the gym approached me with some feedback she had heard from someone who was a "long-time yoga student" at the gym. She referred to "him" and so that narrowed it down to three people--and then she said he had a more advanced practice, and I knew who she was talking about. The feedback was good--I need to break things down a bit more and offer more modifications for people who might not be able to do the full-blown pose. I like to think that I take criticism well, so I took this in stride and made a concerted effort to slow my classes down just enough to get everyone up to pace.

Though there were many familiar faces in class last night--there were a few new ones as well. One woman, in particular who was new (and, mind you, in desperate need of a clothespin--YTT will know what I'm talking about here...) looked as though she had definitely practiced yoga before--but was by no means a longtime student. Halfway through class, after a meditation on loving-kindness (loving a  loved one, loving an acquaintance, loving an enemy) and warm up, we got to it. I brought the class into extended warrior and from there, placed the hand on the mat and walked them into balancing half moon pose.

The class had been through this pose many times. It's a challenging pose, no doubt, but it is about strength and concentration--not so much on flexibility. This newer woman made a huff coming into the pose, standing up, and looking around. I noticed out of the corner of my eye and simply went throught the speil that, yes, this is a challenging pose, but if you fall out, simply try again and again, building the muscle memory. 

The second time around (on the left leg), I came over to this woman.

"If you like, you're welcome to do triangle pose instead here", I said, demonstrating.

She gave me an astounded look and said, "I just think it's way too early in the class to be doing this!"

"Okay" I was thrown. "Well, if you want to try triangle pose instead, you can do that". And with that I left her to her disbelief and amazement that I would even attempt to bring the class into a challenging pose that they had done many many times before.

For the rest of class, I could literally feel this woman's contempt oozing out of her. I think she even laughed and shook her head when I brought the class into a classical twist--or maybe that was just my imagination. Either way, by the end of class, I was feeling challenged. How dare this woman tell me what I can and cannot do in my class and what she thinks the class is ready for. It is an all-levels class. I am not going to keep everyone on the floor rolling around so that they can be soothed. People need to work in order to feel.

I sat in meditation at the end of class while the rest of the students took savanana. At first, my thoughts hovered around this woman and this situtation--how I so badly want her to say something to me after class so that I can stand up for myself and speak my mind. Oh, that would feel so good. I'm just getting used to standing up for myself, by the way. But then I remembered what this class was about: loving-kindness. So for laughs, I sent all my loving energy to this woman and to this tension between us.

I felt my heart beating with contempt--for the chance of confrontation--I felt it leaping again and again into my throat. But with this loving-kindness, I imagined this woman as a friend, as a family member. I stepped out of my own shoes and saw the situation for what it was--something I had totally blown out of proportion. Maybe she was right, maybe she wasn't--it didn't really matter. Her opinion was her opinion and as a teacher I have to make room for that and be respectful to her needs. My heart melted. The anger melted. And I sat at the front of class absolutely loving this woman for the opportunity she had brought for me to open my heart.

This might be a mushy story--but there is opportunity for this kind of feeling everywhere. The joy that came from this choice to forgive and to love, gave me an unbelievable high for the rest of the night. It's not always this easy to send loving-kindness to those that challenge and frustrate us--often times, the situations are much more complex. But it was this simple situation that gave my heart the greatest exercise of the day: opening.

Teen Yoga

Good deed of the weekend: my good friend, Carrie, subbed my Teen Yoga class on Sunday night. Thank you Carrie!

Good Things

Let's be honest. There's a lot of bad going on right now. I don't even need to list them out because you know what they are--and whenever the topic comes up, I feel like my words are only perpetuating the negativity. So I've decided to move in a different direction--because it is crucial to remain positive. There's still a lot of good things out there, and that's what this is about.

Starting today, this is my aim: to document a good thing every day. It doesn't have to be big by any means, but it must be present and heartfelt. The idea started when I was at the gym yesterday, using the changing room. I notices a pair of socks on the floor, made sure they were not mine, and thought nothing more of it. I dressed, exited and was about to dry my hair when the woman who entered the changing room after me poked her head out and asked--with a smile, "Did you lose and pair of socks?".

"No, I did not. I saw those. They must belong to someone else."

Both of us continued on, but I couldn't help but feel such deep appreciation for this woman--simply asking if I had lost my socks. Maybe because it's been a hard month at home, at work, in life. Maybe because it was just not the best day. I don't know why it touched me the way that it did, but I mulled this woman's kind action around in my mind knowing that these things happen all the time, every day--to me! How blessed I am.

So I went about my day--the normal way. I had to stop at the gas station on the way to the yoga studio, and as I was waiting to leave the parking lot, I noticed that the gas cap on the car in front of me was open. The traffic kept passing us by--there was no opportunity to exit--so I just sat there behind this car, looking at his gas cap, wondering what I should do. I actually got anxious! And I don't get anxious all that often. I knew I should get out and close it for him. But there was another part of me that felt shy--and it's not like it really made a difference if it was open or not...and it was cold...and what if the line of traffic broke just as I got out...how embarrassing. But the traffic line didn't break, and we continued to sit there in our warm cars, separated.

And then I just did it. I got out of the car, walked up and closed his gas cap shut. I could see him try to look at me in the rear view mirror. I made a pathetic gesture at the gas cap as I walked away. I was getting back into my car when I noticed he was rolling down his window."Your gas cap was open," I said.

He smiled. "Oh. Thank you."

I think we were about the same age. I was still anxious as the traffic lightened and he pulled out into the road. I made my way out after him, cautiously slowing over the ice heave in the entryway.